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1-800-kami · 3 months

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how to (properly) make tomato soup | gojo satoru

.. it’s three pm, you’re sick, and satoru takes it upon himself to take care of you (except there’s one problem: he does not possess any shred of culinary ability whatsoever).

content: 1.7k words, no explicit gender mention but pet names like angel and baby are used, gojo being silly while geto is absolutely done w his bullshit, reader has a migraine, mainly a self indulgent comfort/crack fic

when you feel the pounding in your ears again, tears start to form in your eyes. fuck, you just can’t help it.

you’re tired. so tired of the constant headaches–the migraines that plague your days and make staying awake completely unbearable.

the familiar ache settles in, but you can tell that this time, it’s much worse than usual. the nauseating pressure that can be described as thousands of needles pricking the back of your eyes, the blinding light in the room that’s assaulting your vision, the overwhelming sounds around you that are so intense to the point where you want to do nothing but cry.

so… that’s exactly what you do.

you succumb to the pain, letting out a choked sob that arguably just makes everything worse. tears slowly make their way down your cheeks, and you put your head in your hands to simultaneously muffle your cries and shield yourself from the light around you. you want to turn off the light. your head screams at you to turn off the light, but you’re so dizzy that you can barely even move.

“y/n?”

the first call of your name barely registers amidst the ringing in your ears. you hear it when your name is said a second time, though, and you feel yourself coming back to your surroundings.

he’s… here.

your boyfriend, satoru. yeah, he’s here.

head still buried in your hands, you carefully move one of your fingers to peek at him. he’s crouched down in front of you, a look of concern on his face. he’s saying something…

“where does it hurt, baby?” you’re still so stunned that you can’t find the strength in you to speak. so you close your eyes and point to the area where it hurts the most, sniffling. “is it okay if i massage that area, angel?”

throughout the midst of all your pain and tears, your heart manages to swell. it swells for satoru, because he’s here–he’s present, and he cares about you.

you manage out a small nod, eyes still shut. you let out a shaky breath—a breath that you just found out you were holding, since everything hurt so much that you forgot to breathe.

satoru massages your temples gently, even making an effort to softly wipe the tears off of your face. he feels your forehead with the back of his hand and frowns at your temperature. you’re starting to burn up. “s more than a headache, baby. i’m gonna take you to the bed, okay?”

this was going to be a long afternoon.

he carries you bridal style to your bedroom and gently places you on the mattress. he turns off the lights and draws the blinds shut, providing a welcome respite from the sensory assault just moments ago. you exhale a sigh of relief, slowly opening your eyes as you wipe the dried tears off your face. he climbs into the bed with you, and you instinctively cling to him for support as you wrap your arms around his neck. it hurts. everything hurts, but satoru’s presence makes it slightly more bearable. “my poor angel. have you been overworking yourself lately?”

you bury your face in his neck, finding comfort in being close to your boyfriend. he presses a feather-light kiss on your forehead, and it makes you want to cry again. “maybe. the headaches are getting worse.”

“you should take it easier on yourself. i can’t have you cryin’ like this. not on my watch,” he remarks, making sure to keep his voice low as not to overwhelm you. “y’know, if your migraines were a person, i’d make sure to hollow purple ‘em. no hesitation.”

a soft laugh escapes you, but you regret it almost immediately as it just intensifies the pain. he lets out an apology, but you just huff.

you close your eyes again, exhaustion taking over as your eyelids grow heavier. satoru slowly releases himself from your vice grip, much to your chagrin. you try and weakly protest, but he just shushes you gently. “just go to sleep, baby. i’ll be right back, okay? when was the last time you ate?”

“hm… i remember having a little bit of breakfast when i woke up-”

“alright.” he says, making a mental note that he should make food. “i’m going to go make you something, okay? i promise i’ll be back soon.”

“...don’t burn down the kitchen, please.”

“i can’t promise that, though.”

“you found the soup packet? okay, finally. now you just turn on the stove…”

satoru’s a little embarrassed to say that he doesn’t know how to cook.

growing up, he’s had practically everything served to him on a silver platter, so he never had to worry about making his own food. and frankly, despite your statement earlier being a joke, he is genuinely afraid to burn the house down. so, he has his best friend suguru on a video call right now, teaching him–gojo satoru, a twenty-eight-year-old man–how to make instant soup.

“the stove?”

“yeah…? don’t tell me you don’t know-”

“-no, no. i know how to turn the stove on. of course i do.” it feels like he’s trying to convince himself more than suguru. the camera shows satoru in his kitchen, sweating profusely and glaring at the stove like it’s his biggest enemy. satoru has fought countless curses in his life, has had near-death experiences multiple times, and even faced the king of curses himself, but he thinks that everything pales in comparison to this task. he tries to turn the knob, but it won’t budge. “what the hell?-“

“satoru-” it seems like the azure-eyed man doesn’t hear him as he keeps trying to turn on the stove (suguru swears he hears him muttering the phrase “with this treasure i summon”, but that’s not even his technique). he can’t help but facepalm for the hundredth time during the duration of this call. “satoru!”

he finally gets his attention, and satoru looks at his phone and sees geto with a look that screams “are you fucking kidding me?”—or really, just a look of utter disappointment. “you’re turning the stove the wrong way.”

“...”

he turns the knob the opposite way, and the burner sets ablaze instantly.

“oh, yeah… um, i definitely knew that.”

“satoru, how do you survive whenever you’re not on a mission?”

“sometimes i think about that too, really. i think it’s because y/n is the one who always cooks.”

“you think i can’t tell already?”

much to both of their surprise, satoru managed to make a pot of tomato soup. it only took him approximately forty-five minutes. satoru seems so proud of himself, meanwhile suguru looks so ready to block his number and never talk to him again.

he pours some of the soup into a bowl, and places it on a tray. he also takes a few painkillers from the medicine cabinet–along with a bottle of water. he thanks suguru for helping him, and is about to hang up but stops short when his best friend freezes. “wait, hold on. did you turn off the stove?”

and after making suguru swear on his life to never speak of this event to you and airing out the house to get rid of the smell of smoke, gojo satoru, “the strongest”, thinks he’s the first ever man to somehow burn a pot full of soup.

“it’s an impressive feat, really.” he claims.

suguru just says that he should never be allowed near a kitchen ever again, and satoru actually finds it in himself to silently agree.

an hour has passed, and he sets the tray on the nightstand, relieved that the past hour of his life is finally over, never wanting to do that ever again. you’re sleeping soundly on the bed, and he almost doesn’t have the heart to wake you up, but he knows that you have to eat something. he turns the nightlight on and gently taps you on the shoulder as you wake up with a stir. “toru? s’that you?”

“it’s me. can you wake up for me, baby? i promise you can sleep again after, but you need to eat.” when you slowly sit up from your sleeping position, he places the tray on your lap and softly coaxes you to eat. you take a spoonful of soup into your mouth, relishing in the flavor as you’re just now realizing how hungry you are.

“this is good,” you say, letting out a smile. the nap helped you come back to your senses a little, and you can finally breathe a little easy now that the pounding in your head has eased. “didn’t know you could make this.”

“yeah, well, you better savor it.” cause i’m never making that again.

when you finish the soup, you swallow a few painkillers while taking a greedy gulp of water from the bottle on the tray.

just in case the pain comes back, you think. though you really, really wish that it wouldn’t.

satoru sets the tray on the nightstand, and you settle back into the covers, wanting to just sleep the rest of the day away. satoru follows not long after, turning off the nightlight and letting out a yawn.

you bury your face in his neck once more, kissing him on the cheek. “thank you, for um—for all of this.”

“s nothing. just promise that you won’t overwork yourself again, okay?” he says, carefully caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“i’ll try not to.”

“hey, you can’t say just that. you have to say, ‘i promise not to overwork myself again, toru. i love you, and thank you for the tomato soup.’” he says while poorly imitating your voice, and you can’t help but laugh.

“okay, okay. i promise not to overwork myself again, love. i love you so, so much.” you say while peppering kisses all over his face, and he’s so glad that the lights are off so that you’re unable to see how his cheeks are beet red. “thank you for taking care of me… and for the soup. it was good.”

and as your eyelids begin to grow heavy once more, satoru thinks that his efforts aren’t in vain after all. because the sight of you, finding comfort in his presence, stirs a little bit of determination from within him. and maybe, just maybe, he’d take it upon himself to learn how to properly cook, not just (partially burnt) instant soup, but a real meal for the next time that you’re feeling like this.

and as he watches your chest rise up and down as you sleep, he can’t help but whisper, “yeah. next time, i’ll make you more than just soup. i’ll cook something special, just for you. ‘nd i won’t burn the pot again, either.”

because for you, satoru would do anything as long as he gets to see you happy. and part of that includes learning how to (properly) make tomato soup… and more.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru comfort #gojo comfort

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clipartdinosaur · 3 months

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Griddlehark Fics

I have read an absolutely insane amount of Griddlehark fanfics in the past few months so I figured I could make a like...list of all of my favorites that I bookmarked. I'm not sure if anyone will use this but if anything it will be for my own self-indulgence LOL. Just a heads up, this list WILL contain spoilers up to Nona the Ninth, so proceed with your own discretion. Anyway here we go!

(♥︎ = favorite!)

Short (<15k):

"By the Sword" by JeanLuciferGohard (2.6k)

The Reverend Daughter of the Ninth, Necrosaint, Ascended, the greatest bone adept in an Age, does one push-up, and collapses. Harrow does not beg for her cavalier. Harrow rakes her hair back and snarls, “Nav, I am going to unzip your cranial sutures. One by one. And zip them up again sideways.”

"Your Necro Questions Answered" by Magichorse (8.8k)

Syndicated columnist "Nav the Cav" offers a sympathetic ear to cavaliers across the galaxy and dispenses practical, no-nonsense, real talk advice on how to properly manage and care for your necromancer.

"A Lesson in Bones" by Magichorse (3.8k)

One of the laboratory trials at Canaan House compels Harrowhark to swap bodies with her cavalier. What will Gideon do with the power of the most talented bone adept in generations at her disposal? Nothing good, probably.

"Visions of Gideon" by tothewillofthepeople (13k)

Oh my god they were roommates...

"true love's kiss, or something equally nauseating" by corpsesoldier (4.6k)

She was where she needed to be. She was going to pull her necro out of this godforsaken tomb, end the game of musical bodies they were playing, and then everything would be all right. Harrow would be alive. And Gideon was going to give her shit for approximately the next myriad for not just taking what she’d offered and saving them a whole lot of trouble.

"The Big Warm Dark" by decalexas (haelstorm) (2.7k)

Gideon Nav knows how to swing a longsword, brandish a rapier, bridge the gap between life and death, punch the dead in the face, and maybe overthrow an Empire along the way. What she doesn't know how to do is reach for the girl who made all of this possible.

"carrion comfort, despair (not feast on thee)" by NotAFicWriter (5k)

Some time after Alecto wakes, Harrow and Gideon finally have a moment to speak to one another. Hearts are bared. Teeth are bared. Intentions are bared. It all comes at great personal cost (emotional honesty).

"never exhale all the way" by pigflight (1.2k)

Harrowhark paints Gideon's face.

"such an almighty sound" by CountingNothings (10k)♥︎

“I need you to marry me,” Harrow says, a propos of absolutely nothing that Gideon can see. And, uh, okay, this is not what childhood best frenemies say to each other upon discovering that both of their graduate programs have weird residence requirements. “What,” Gideon asks, “the fuck?”

"A Handsomely Dangerous Thing" by zoicite (1.5k)

Had Harrow ever looked at Gideon and felt pride before? Surely not. It sat like a tumor in her chest, a cancerous lump that had grown where it did not belong.

"How it didn't happen" by Nary (1.5k)

"How did you lose it?" Coronabeth asked, more softly than her sister's shrill voice. The group assembled at Canaan House barely knew her, and yet here they were, asking the most irritatingly personal questions, and acting as if they were being kind and thoughtful by prying into her secrets. "I dropped my pen into a vat of acid and reached in to grab it without thinking," Harrow said dryly. Coronabeth recoiled, screwing up her pretty nose. Ianthe looked unsure whether to believe her or not. Their meatslab of cavalier just stared blankly. "The Daughter of the Ninth House was blessed in this manner from her birth, as a symbol of her strength and power over the mysteries of necromancy," Ortus interjected. Harrow glared at him. "Oh," Coronabeth said, an expression of disgusting sympathy on her flawless face. "But then you would never have known who your soulmate was!" Harrow's glare intensified. "My soulmate is bones."

"Halcyon Nights" by Morike91 (10k)

It was hard to tell what was worse: feeling the full warmth of those unguarded honey eyes fall on Harrow, or watching them narrow in recognition and contempt, their warmth now hotter with something else. “What can I get you?” It has been at least four years since Harrow last heard the voice of Gideon Nav, but it was still as familiar as her right hand.

"I completely fucking hate you" by ClaraZorEl (7.5k)

In the coming weeks, Harrowhark learns an unfortunate great deal about Gideon Nav. The kind of porn she likes, the number of bread rolls she can fit into her mouth at once, that she always leans too heavily on her left leg when she fights but can do fifty-seven push-ups in a row without stopping, that her biceps rates 11/10 on the scale of good biceps, that her laugh rumbles like an army of skeletons, and most importantly, that she can’t fucking stand her. Gideon Nav is so grating that Harrow has no doubt she will be her undoing. OR Harrowhark Nonagesimus has been invited to Canaan University's ball. But to successfully represent her house, she needs a cavalier, and unfortunately, her only option is her least favourite barista from her least favourite coffee shop.

"A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them" by pipistrelle (7k)

"In the end, she poisoned Ortus; so it was Harrow Nova who walked out to the shuttle a half-step behind the Daughter of the Ninth, the chain of Samael Novenary wound about her offhand wrist, the black blade of the Ninth at her side."

"The Only Prayer We Know" by pipistrelle (12k) [Part 2 of "A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them"]

It's like a bad joke: two cavaliers (alive) and two necromancers (one dead) walk into a rebel faction of humanity, looking for a new life -- in every sense of the phrase. What they find is each other, and (in some cases) themselves.

"The Flames of Hell Are Warm" by silverapples (7k)

In which Harrow is a repressed evangelical Christian and Gideon performs burlesque in a lesbian nightclub. Feat. nipple pasties, chewing gum, and a steaming mug of gay coffee (wake up and smell it, Harrow).

"Necro Business" by rnanqo (1.6k) ♥︎

“Gideon,” you said carefully, “I will need to examine your mouth. Various structures, primarily the jaw, but also the lingual muscles—the tongue—” You stopped there. Your cheeks were going red, probably with indignity. “Yeah,” I said, a bit too loudly, “yeah, sure. Do it.”

"Holy Cross, Alaska" by softieghost (10k) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Harrow meets Gideon. They go through it together.

"my love will be your armor" by TheKnightsWhoSayBook (2.3k)

"The princess has a right to bestow her favor on whoever she wishes to win a match," Gideon tells her. "Are you going to?" "Why would I? I don't want to marry him," Harrow answers bitterly. "Do you want me to win?" Princess Harrow will be engaged to the winner of the tournament, and her only champion is her useless bodyguard Sir Gideon Nav, who isn't going to save her. Unless...?

"The Meaning Of The Word" by pipistrelle (8.4k)

Harrow, along with a good percentage of Canaan University's necromancy students, has the flu. Gideon has a lot of feelings that she is in no way equipped to handle. It's a tough week.

"(i shine only with the light you gave me)" by sashawire (1.7k) ♥︎

God prods, gently, “Even just starting with their physical description, and we can go from there.” “Imagine,” you say, from somewhere outside your body, “the worst shade of orange you’ve ever seen in your life.” * Harrowhark receives her saintly title.

"i will learn to love the shears" by corpsesoldier (4.7k)

The avulsion trial left Harrow's hair in a sorry state and Gideon offers up her expertise with a blade. Or, Gideon gives Harrow a haircut.

"The Titty Texts: A Work of a Stupendous Titty Nature" by EleniaTrexer (3k)

Gideon accidentally sends Harrow boobs. And then just keeps on sending them.

"can we start over?" by breeeliss (10k)

Gideon needs a tutor. Harrow needs someone to get her out of college gym class. All in all, a pretty straightforward arrangement to make with your ex.

"Dark Mode Enabled" by senseoftheday (12k)

Tech Company AU in which a certain Sales bro with no filter decides to ruin Harrow's life (and feature roadmap) by initiating the cross-functional project from hell. At least, Gideon has the decency to work remotely, and Harrow's new office crush makes some pretty great coffee.

"deconsecrated graves" by emotionsandphenomena (4k)

Gideon and Harrow got out of the cult they were raised in. Okay, what's next?

"settle up in heaven" by liesmyth (3k) ♥︎

“Isn’t this arrogance, Harrow?” Kiriona says. “Think you could fix what God couldn’t?”

"Quoth the Maiden" by Sarsaparilla (10.9k)

The bold outlaws Nova Hawk and Gideon meet for the first time on a narrow log-bridge. But is it really their first meeting? Or: what if Robin Hood and Little John were both lesbians?

"twice in a blue moon" by sinshine (8.7k) ♥︎

Gideon snapped out of her depressing reverie and blinked at her. "That's a really good idea." "Obviously," said Harrow, and it was only a little bit condescending. "Step one, sneak out of the party. Step two, acquire the necessary items at a store. Step three–" Harrow gestured vaguely at the deer in Gideon's hands– "And step four, profit." [G&H rush to fix a smashed snow globe that Dulcinea made so that Cam doesn't kill them before the clock strikes midnight at their NYE party. The fact that Gideon is back in her hometown after a long time away and she and Harrow have unresolved romantic tension is secondary and definitely won't be a problem.]

"It Came From Planet Slut" by LockedTombMemes (8k)

Well. Evidently going undercover to an Idan society fling in order to deliver a message to a high-profile BoE agent was a tits-out kind of look.

"Apostate's Yuletide" by sinshine (12.6k)♥︎

Gideon raised one eyebrow comically high. She smiled easily, erasing any hint of the anxiety that Harrow might have sensed. "What's with all the questions today?" Harrow huffed indignantly and fidgeted with the blanket draped across her lap, worrying the frayed hem with her fingers. "I thought your ego would appreciate the interest." "Yeah, but it's weird coming from you. I'm used to you monologuing, not playing twenty questions." "Perhaps it's a Christmas miracle," suggested Harrow, with an expression so absolutely devoid of joy that Gideon couldn't help but laugh. [Harrow and Gideon burn down a church on Xmas.]

"when it's over" by Adertily (2.5k)

Harrowhark had sworn to herself to live to see the girl in the locked tomb awaken. Alecto has risen. Now God is dead, along with everyone who had ever been dear to her - and Gideon has returned as a distorted creature. The war is over. Harrow wishes she could be too. Or: A character study based on Harrow's suicidal ideation and Gideon's determination to never run anywhere unless she absolutely has to.

"Supernova Bloom!" by sinshine (13k)

"It's just for a week, and then you never have to see me again," said Gideon. "I don't have time to find anyone else." And, "Please." Slowly, Harrow took her hand off the door and cautiously turned around. Gideon watched a dozen unspoken questions flicker across her face. She voiced none of them, but eventually settled on an expression of grim resignation. "I suppose I could suffer you for a week." [Gideon needs help getting her new flower shop ready for the grand opening. Harrow needs cash.]

"I still need your teeth around my organs" by sinshine (7.8k)

Although she was a beloved Daughter and a talented necromancer, Gideon's greatest vice was that she dearly loved to fuck around and find out. Knowing this, perhaps it shouldn't have been as shocking when she lifted one of Nova's hands, flipped it over, and kissed her palm. [4 times Gideon kisses Harrow, 1 time Harrow kisses Gideon]

"cuckoo, cuckoo" by sashawire (1.2k)

What Wake gives it is not a name. To do so would be a moronic, unnecessary cruelty. But she does deign to give it the microscopic dignity of a title, a goal, a purpose. Bomb. Eighteen years later, in the rubble of a once-sacred home, Harrowhark Nonagesimus reaches up and touches Gideon Nav’s grit-covered, blood-rimed face, splits a laugh like the world is ending, and calls her “flower.” * Six times God's unwanted daughter was nicknamed, and once she wasn't.

"my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear" by sashawire (<1k) ♥︎

Gideon chomps into her tongue as hard as she can convince herself, stifling a very dignified squawk. Her eyes water, Emperor’s left tit that fucking hurts, but—it works. Blood weeps from the bite marks, creeping down the back of her throat, up into her nasal cavity, staining her teeth. Okay. She has blood in her mouth. Blood that, somehow, needs to get into Harrow’s mouth. * Step #6: Consume the flesh.

"fifteen percent concentrated power of will" by surreptitiously (9k)

Teaching someone to do a push-up is a love language, when that person is very annoying.

"GHAZAL WHERE I'M BEGGING YOU TO TOUCH ME" by igneousbitch (12k)

You had your body and I had mine, and it was a miracle. Your hands against my face were a miracle. The rest of your meat attached to your hands was a prayer answered and a promise broken, but we were flush and gasping and alive, and Harrow—I really thought you might’ve kissed me then. But I felt it happen. The way your breath suddenly stilled, and your body locked up beneath mine, remembering. How with splintering gentleness, you pushed me away. “I’m so sorry,” was the second thing you said upon waking. The first thing had been my name. Stranded in a safehouse on an Edenite moon, Gideon and Harrow try to put themselves back together.

"catch you on the flip side, sugar lips" by corpsesoldier (4.9k)

Maybe if Harrow's brain runs enough scenarios, she'll find a way to keep what she's lost.

"hand to heart, I swear" by corpsesoldier (5k)

Gideon has a broken heart, and there's only one necromancer who can fix it.

Medium (15-30k)

"If you're doing it right you'll break their ribs" by almostnectarine (22.4k)

"How do you know Nonagesimus has gone somewhere dangerous?" asked Isaac. "Have you wired some kind of alert system?" "It's, uh. It's on the schedule," said Gideon. "I just... forgot. Because of the bread." Nobody was convinced by this, least of all Gideon. "It's a Ninth House thing," Gideon went on, backing away with increasing desperation. This was a slightly more plausible explanation, if only because nobody wanted to look too closely at what fell under the awful skeletal-ribbed and rotting umbrella of Ninth House things. "Gotta go—!" And she was out the door, gone. But it wasn't a Ninth House thing, except inasmuch as it was happening to the only two representatives of the noble and decrepit Ninth House on this quite literally godforsaken rock. Gideon knew Harrow had gone somewhere dangerous—knew that Harrow was back in the lab where they had only just completed a horrible trial—because she could see it, clear as day: an awful overlay on her vision of that terrible dangerous room and a pair of terrible dangerous hands drawing some kind of ward next to the plinth. The hands were definitely Harrow's. This was definitely a problem.

"If Home Is Where the Heart Is (Then We're All Just Fucked)" by JeanLuciferGohard (17k) ♥︎

When Gideon Nav gets a call that her ex-girlfriend, who never bothered to change her designated emergency contact, is in the hospital, she goes against her better judgement and responds. Everything after that just gets more complicated.

"blue gray green lavender" by smolranger (29k) ♥︎

Laser Radial sailor Gideon Nav just wants pass her classes, win a few regattas, and keep her head down. FJ sailor Harrowhark Nonagesimus has grand plans to qualify for the Olympics, preserve her parent's legacy, and save her home town. Despite the ties binding them together, the two have kept their college lives carefully separate for two years. But when Harrow's helm, Ortus, suffers a concussion mid-way through the fall season, their carefully separated lives collide. Harrow needs someone capable of taking Ortus' place for the remainder of the season or her Olympic dreams — and Canaan College's entire sail team — are in peril. And Gideon is her only option.

"Daughters of Hungry Ghosts" by zoicite (24k)

Harrow and Gideon and times they have (and also have not) shared a bed over the years.

"Disney World, Florida" by softieghost (24.6k) [Part 2 of "Holy Cross, Alaska"]

After the events of Alaska, Harrow thanks Gideon the only way she knows how: devotion. -- Chapter 3: The journey concludes. More confessions.

"we've got a good thing goin' " by sinshine (14.6k) ♥︎

“Not to sound ungrateful, but being here makes me wish that you had left me for dead,” said Harrow. Gideon had been staring hard at the face of the fountain’s statue. She was pretty sure that it was carved in the likeness of Naberius himself, but she didn’t want to say it out loud and make it true. She shook her head and turned to Harrow. “Leaving me to live out eternity in your bony sock puppet of a body? Hard pass.” Palamedes and Camilla shared a look. It was the mutual understanding of two people who had been trapped in close quarters with the bickering of Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus for far too long. [Team 69 hide out in Babs's vacation home. Because it's not like he's using it anyway.]

"Cake by the Ocean" by zoicite (15k)♥︎

Okay, so the thing was, Gideon had always been shit at plans. She knew that. Everyone knew that, but this--she really didn’t think it would be this hard! Gideon’s voice was like the least memorable thing about her. Bargaining her voice for a well-shaped set of human legs--that really should have worked in her favor.

"careful fear and (un)dead devotion" by sinshine (23k)

[Gideon and Harrow wake up back in their own bodies but both of them are missing large parts of their memory. Camilla tries not to kill everyone.]

"who ya gonna call?" by igneousbitch (24k)

“Fret not, honeybun.” Gideon shook her red hair out of her eyes, belligerent. “I’m not totally sold on your whole skepticism thing.” “Well,” Harrow said, ignoring the nickname. She turned to the rest of the room, clearing her throat politely before addressing the empty air. “Ghosts, if you’re real, give us a sign. Make a noise. Move something. Send a shiver down our backs. Whisper softly into Nav’s left ear—” “I seriously fucking hate you.” - (Casual sex and paranormal investigation. Not necessarily in that order.) (or: the Buzzfeed Unsolved AU in which Gideon is ready to fight a ghost, and Harrow just wants to be haunted.)

Long(>30k):

"Beneath a Blue and Foreign Sky" by zoicite (35k)

Harrow has a decision to make.

"A Heart Full Of Sutures" by Rohad (40k)

All Gideon wanted was to get outside and ride her motorcycle. No part of that plan had included eight weeks in Canaan Medical Center with a broken Pelvis and the meanest little doctor this side of the eastern seabord.

"Midnight at the Mithraeum" by zoicite (66k) ♥︎

It'd been two years since Gideon Nav gathered her wine key and her gaming license and escaped The Locked Tomb, a speakeasy-style cocktail bar managed by the hateful Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Now, dealing tables at The Mithraeum Hotel & Casino, things were really looking up. So when Gideon scored a date with the most beautiful showgirl in the Gilded Halls of Ida, the last thing she expected was to wake up married to her old nemesis and former coworker. The story starts the night of Gideon's date and alternates between the events leading up to the wedding and the weeks that follow as Gideon tries to navigate life married to someone who claims to want nothing more than to forget she exists.

"Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" by pipistrelle (90k)

Being the journal of Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus, chronicling the journey of the Emperor's warship Cenotaph on its hunt to slay an immortal Resurrection Beast. Or: the Moby Dick crossover AU that nobody asked for.

"The Darkest Night, The Brightest Light" by eternaleponine (50k)

Harrowhark has known for a long time that her home's financial situation is dire, and not getting better. She has plans to fix it all, but can't implement them until she turns eighteen in a few months. When her parents announce that the best (perhaps only) way to save Drearburh is to marry off its heir, Harrow realizes the timeline has changed and she needs to take action now to save her home... and herself. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all. Enter Gideon Nav. Detested foe, and Harrow's only hope.

"putting your fist through a thick sheet of glass (i know you don't want to)" by oretsev (46k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus and Gideon Nav have always been at each other’s throats, and the animosity has only intensified since the death of Harrow’s parents. But when a car accident leaves Gideon without any memories of her past, Harrow sees a chance at the clean slate she’s wanted for years. Becoming involved in Gideon’s recovery assuages some of the guilt, but as she and Gideon become closer and increasingly involved in each other's lives, Harrow worries that some of her secrets may be more than she can atone for.

Ongoing:

"semi-charmed kinda life" by strangedelight (182k+) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Gideon asked questions. Harrow surprised her with answers. They reached an agreement; they decided to be smart, to be patient. Gideon made a promise, Harrow gave her one in return. Wait and see. OR the year is 1994, and Gideon and Harrow leave their small town for life in the city. OR team 69 roommates au only this time it's the 90s

"Intern the Sixth" by apocalypticTaco (33k+)

ADDRESSING THE HEIR TO THE NINTH HOUSE, OR PRESUMED EQUIVALENT: PALAMEDES SEXTUS, HEIR TO THE SIXTH HOUSE, PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS TO THE NINTH AND REQUESTS A FORMAL ARRANGEMENT WHEREIN HIS MASTER WARDEN AND CAVALIER APPRENTICESHIP UNDER THE NINTH FOR FOUR YEARS IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SIXTH’S SERVICES. *Details to be discussed. Please turn to back page. Timeframe variable. Services and agreements variable upon the Ninth's request. An internship of this caliber is highly unprecedented and likely unheard of, but any information valuable to the Ninth and into the Tomb will remain undisclosed upon request; Primary experience and study is required as the Master Warden has already decided upon such being his final thesis prior to his end studies. No takebacks, no denials. Pleased to meet you. Palamedes Sextus, Heir to the Sixth and Master Warden and Camilla the Sixth, Cavalier Primary and Warden's Hand of the Library

TO THE MASTER WARDEN: FORMALLY REJECTED.

"What's Eating Gideon Nav?" by labyrinthineRetribution (40k+)

After a miserable fifteen years at Blessed Saint Anastasia's School for Girls, Gideon's luck finally changes.

"We Have Always Lived in the Apartment" by labyrinthineRetribution (171k+)

John looks up from his Jack and Coke in drunken curiosity. "What's with the face, Harrowhark?" he asks, genuinely concerned. "Contrary to popular belief," Gideon butts in, "her face just fuckin' looks like that, bitch." She tends to use "bitch" as liberally as commas when off her ass. "You're piss drunk," you shoot back. "And you, my good bitch, are just as contemptible as the day you clawed your way up from Hell." - It is Harrowhark Nonagesimus' birthday, and it only gets worse from there.

PWP (basically):

"I'll hold in these hands all that remains" by corvidlesbian (6.5k) ♥︎

“Do you want me to try?” Gideon said. “What?” “You got all hot and bothered without me trying. Do you want me to try?” Their newfound habit of cuddling gets interesting.

"sting of a wasp" by brightbolt, imperfectlyctor (42k) ♥︎

"You’re a virgin,” Gideon said, testing it out. "Huh." Harrow didn’t like the sound of that huh. She knew Gideon’s noises, and that was a thoughtful, sinister huh. That was the same huh she’d made before putting canned tuna in Crux’s work boots. Her eyes narrowed. “What.” Gideon cocked her head to the side. “Is there a reason you’re waiting?” There was no judgement in the question— only genuine curiosity. Perhaps it was this that made Harrow more inclined to answer. “I don’t have the time to look for someone new,” She shrugged. “And my available pool is… somewhat limited.” “Well,” Gideon said, with just a hint of conspiracy in those glittering golden eyes. “If you ever want to change that, you have my number.” What? What? Harrow blinked. “What?” Or: the five times Gideon and Harrow successfully bone, and the one time they don't.

"Suckle, Honey" by zoicite (7.9k)

“You crave my juice,” Gideon accused. “I do not crave your juice.” “Fuck, you do though. You went off to explore that study alone, without your cavalier, using a key that I nearly gave my life for, and then you snorted some powder that made you crave my juice! Harrow. I never would have let you sniff powder from a ten thousand year old jar.” This was untrue--Gideon probably wouldn’t have noticed Harrow breathing in a puff of jar powder until it was too late--but it sounded like something Camilla Hect might say, so Gideon went with it anyway. Camilla definitely would have stopped Palamedes from accidentally sniffing old as fuck Eighth House jarred juice addiction powder.

"Five Times We Hatefucked and One Time We Didn't" by rnanqo (8k)

“Fuck you,” you said. “Fuck me yourself, you coward.” You ran a hand through my hair, fisted it, and pulled my head up. From here I had a spectacular view of your weird blown-out seething expression, like I was the worst thing you’d ever seen. Also a view up your blood-crusted nostrils. Choice. “Maybe I will, Griddle,” you said. “Maybe I will stop fucking you over and start fucking you." Gideon and Harrow realize, abruptly, that their hatefucking is no longer hatefucking.

"a call to motion" by groundedsaucer (coasterchild) (10k) ♥︎

Harrow and Gideon watch a porno.

"put her canine teeth in the side of my neck" by stranded_star (8.8k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus is getting a PhD and a divorce. Against her better judgment, she goes out to the bar to celebrate and meets an incorrigible, absolutely ripped salt-and-paprika butch who takes her home and gives it to her good. To her horror, it's the best night of her life, and she sneaks home with her tail between her legs. Harrow has more important things to worry about - like raising her daughter and building the next stages of her career. But when her daughter's favorite teacher, someone named Griddle, turns about to be the Gideon she met at the bar, she's forced to contend with allowing herself (and her daughter) to find the happy ending she never thought they'd have. Featuring MILF!Harrow, Teacher!Gideon, and a very amused Camilla Hect.

"The Wound That Swallows" by seelieunseelie (7.8k)

Harrow can make out an uncomfortable amount of detail about Gideon’s body beneath. Powerful, strong as ever, yet somehow vulnerable for its supplication below Harrow’s. “Are we gonna get this over with?” Gideon says in a voice softly scratchy. She blushes then when Harrow sits on the edge of the bed. “It will hurt,” Harrow says. “Yeah,” Gideon says. “I think I can handle it.”

#holy shit this is way longer than i thought it would be #uhm i literally gave myself a headache i sat here for like 3 hours doing this #that being said if you have any fic recs lmk LOL #griddlehark #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #the locked tomb #tlt #tlt fic #tlt fanfiction #griddlehark fanfic #rec #long post

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nocturnalrat · 10 months

Note

Hear me out…

1610! Miles comforting reader after she get jealous because of how much he’s been around Gwen and he’s just touching and kissing her in all the right places and makes sure that reader knows that he loves her and only her 🙈💕

Thank you for the great prompt! I had lots of fun writing this. :p <3

---

It was truly infuriating.

You hadn’t seen each other in a week due to school work keeping you busy, and there had been a surge of criminal activities in New York, which is why Miles had been occupied most of the time as well.

And now, when the two of you were finally able to hang out again, he kept talking about someone else entirely.

You were lying on the bunk bed in his dorm room, listening to him ramble on about the adventures he had lived through last week.

“You should have been there, the way Gwen incapacitated the guy was like something out of a movie.” He gesticulated frantically with his hands as he vividly described last night’s care chase.

"That sounds really fascinating," you grumbled.

After hearing your unfazed (and slightly sarcastic) tone, he looked up from his chair. "You don't sound very impressed, though."

How could you have told him that his constant stories and songs of praise about Gwen were starting to annoy the heck out of you?

Jealousy was an ugly emotion. To confess to it was shameful, exposing; you wanted to be the easy-going, cool and confident kind of girlfriend, but Miles was making it really hard for you to not seethe with anger and discontent.

"Everything okay?" he asked, and you avoided his gaze. Lying was easier when you didn’t look him into his eyes. They always were too honest and seemed to notice too much.

"Sure," you said.

He saw through your charade immediately, and climbed onto the bunk bed to be closer to you. "There's something bothering you. I can tell."

"You can't tell shit," you said before you could stop yourself. There was anger in the pits of your stomach threatening to take over.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Yes.

"No."

"Then why are you frowning like that? It looks like you’re ready to kill someone. It better not be me."

Fuck. Were you really scowling that obviously?

"You and Gwen get along great, huh?”

"We certainly do." He tilted his head. You recognized that look on his face – it was the same one he had when struggling to solve complicated math problems. "Why’d you bring her up?"

"Why do you keep bringing her up?" you snarled. "We weren’t able to have a single conversation in the last few weeks without you mentioning her a dozen times. Not to mention the fact that you spend way more time with her than you do with your actual girlfriend.”

Shoot. Now you had done it; you had shown weakness.

Miles stared at you incredulously. "Wait a minute - are you jealous?"

You crossed your arms and looked pointedly at the ceiling.

"Absolutely not."

"Nuh-huh. That's why you're pouting." He grinned, and his lighthearted reaction only intensified the nauseating feeling of jealousy. "You know, part of me wishes you could come with us when we're patrolling, just so you could witness how much I talk about you when I'm with Gwen. But the other part of me is terrified of you being with us, as it would be incredibly dangerous for a civilian.”

"Yeah." Biting sarcasm. "I'm sure that's what you talk to her about."

"It is!" He scrambled over to you and leaned in close. "You don't have the faintest idea how important you are to me, do you?

"Can’t be that important, judging by your behavior.”

"Not that important!" he repeated indignantly. "I think about you all the time. How you're doing, what you're doing, if you need anything - always. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing when I go to sleep!"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it,” you mumbled.

“What do I have to do to make you believe me?” He brushed an unruly strand of hair from your forehead, and the gentleness of his touch loosened the knot in your stomach the jealousy had caused. You had only recently started dating, so every little touch of his felt all the more exciting.

You looked at him, and his wide eyes were filled with worry.

“Do you guys have to hang out so much?” you asked reluctantly. “How would you feel if I suddenly spent all of my time with an attractive guy who was single?”

He furrowed his brows. “Well, I wouldn’t be thrilled,” he began slowly. Then he shook his head. “Okay, scratch that, I’d be really pissed.”

You almost laughed. He was just like you.

“Then you know exactly how I feel.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth. "You really have no idea, do you?"

The almost-kiss had distracted you, and it took a moment for you to reply. “No idea about what?” you asked, a little breathless.

"About the things I'd do to make you happy." With a tender gesture, he took your face in his hand and caressed your cheek. "I love you more than anything in this world." The kiss that followed made any doubt you had disappear in an instant. He was telling the truth, that much was evident. “Next time, you can just straight up tell me what’s bothering you. Although I have to say, I kind of like it when you’re acting all jealous and cute.”

“Fuck off,” you said, but it was with a smile. You playfully tried to push him off of you, but he buried his face in your neck.

He was stronger than you, and his weight was pressing against you in a way that made it impossible for you to escape. Not that you wanted to - not when his lips had found your neck and left a sensation so new and good that you couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment.

“I love you,” he said, His voice was so full of affection that it warmed your heart. “Only you. Always you. I won’t be patrolling with her as much in the future, I promise.”

At times, you wondered how someone as great as him had ended up with someone like you. The room was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmered with an amber-like hue; the smile that graced his face was a breathtaking image.

He appeared radiant in the sunlight, and in his presence, you felt a profound sense of peace and trust overcome you.

#miles morales x reader #miles x y/n #1610 miles is the cutest i love him so much <3 <3 <3 #miles morales x y/n #miles x reader

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jester-lover · 6 months

Note

I’m sorry if this is a bother or if your requests aren’t open, feel free to ignore this!

I totally loved the Cinderella one shot you did with the first years, could you do one with the same concept but with the dorm heads? (Or if not all of them, Malleus, Azul and Leona) thank you! 💙

Magic Moment

W/ the Dorm Leaders! + PLATONIC! Trein (I had to for this ask, the same as the last one) FIRST YEARS VERS.

this was literally one of my favorite works I've ever done, thank you for this.

CW/ Fem! Reader, fluff, shyness, nervousness, MR. TREIN BEING A BETTER ADOPTIVE FATHER THAN CROWLEY, I tried to leave the dress details vague, but the general ballgown shape is mentioned, late night walks>>>

As you took a couple of deep breaths and frantically straightened the shining expense of your lush, glimmering ball gown, the echo of music in the ballroom hummed gently. The silken gloves felt lovely against the smooth skin of your freshly manicured fingers. For once in your turbulent school life, you allowed yourself to feel beautiful.

You could hear the happy gnawing sounds made by Grim, who was enjoying a comically large turkey leg. Such a sight would have usually made you laugh if you weren't solely focused on your pounding heartbeat and nauseating nervousness. The sounds of the ballroom music were still picking up as the events of the night were only about to begin.

You felt a warm, fatherly presence by your side, and you turned to see Professor Trein in formal navy-colored robes. His lips curled into a comforting smile as a look of sweet nostalgia filled his eyes.

“I believe the event is about to start; you have absolutely nothing to fear…”

His words trailed off as the other professors called him to join them in the waiting room. The words caught in your throat, but you managed to give him a quick response.

“Thank you, professor!”

Holding your head up a little higher, you gripped onto the delicate fabric of your dress, and a smile enchanted your features as you walked forward towards the grand hall. As you opened up the door and stepped onto the wide golden staircase, you realized that all eyes were on you.

Your dress flowed downward gracefully, as if you were a bird, walking slowly down the steps so as to not ruin your pair of strangely comfortable glass heels.

The beautiful hall was ornately decorated, the sweet-smelling dessert tables were framed with rose petals, and fresh lilies wrapped themselves around the pillars holding up the stained glass ceiling. The elegantly dressed young men in the room seemed to pause in unison as you took small, unsure steps down to the base of the staircase.

With that many eyes on you, peering into your very soul and seeping into any small bit of exposed flesh, the nervousness in your bones returned tenfold.

However, when you saw him standing there, everything was truly magical once again.

Riddle

A sound close to a sigh leaves Riddle’s lips as he takes in the sight of you.

Rushing into the crowd of clamoring boys, he quickly gets to your side and composes himself.

“How indignant, crowding around a young lady as if she doesn’t need personal space! I will have all of your heads for such an offense!”

And he will most likely collar a couple people, but after the ball, after he dances with you, of course!

Despite being taught (rather vigorously) to dance formally, he’s very shy about being so close to you, and in such a public environment too!

Riddle tries his best to give you a nice moment; he knows how stressed out you are on a daily basis, and the experience is beautiful for the both of you.

He wears a burgundy suit with frilly sleeves and an almost delicate collar, complemented by a black tie.

The two of you dance for a brief half hour before leaving for the quietness of the front entrance steps.

The low lighting and gentle nighttime breeze calm Riddle down enough to start a light conversation.

….which proceeds to last the two of you until midnight.

Riddle will walk you home afterwards, like a true gentleman should.

Perhaps a little more red-faced than he intended to be.

“Tonight was so wonderful…maybe we could do something like this again..?”

Leona

A smile forms on Leona’s face the moment he sees you, parting confidently through the crowds of rambunctious teenage boys, he takes your hand gently in his own before pressing a kiss against your gloved wrist.

“Herbivore… I think you owe me a dance for all those times you ruined my sleep…”

Leona’s movements as he pulls you into a dance are sharp and precise, he wants to impress you with his abilities and show you how much better he is than any other suitor who may dare to pursue you.

His head rests on top of yours, taking in the delicate scent of your perfume as he sways you side to side.

As the music continues, he sees you grow a bit tired and steps aside with you, away from the crowd and closer to the windows.

The two of you banter onwards about your personal lives, mostly him telling lighthearted stories about his nephew.

The time slips away so soon, and your gentle mixed laughter soon fills an empty hall, prompting a quick exit.

He walks you home with your arms linked and his blazer over your shoulders, protecting you from the cold nighttime air.

As soon as you reach the steps of Ramshackle, he seems almost hesitant to let you go, the year of joy and tenderness he got with you comes flooding back to him.

“I know I don't usually get all sappy…but I can really see myself building a life with you…”

He kisses you on your forehead and only lets go of your hand as you walk through your front door.

Azul

A sharp gasp escapes from Azul as he speeds towards you, almost tripping against the air as he pushes against the other young men in the room, whispering small apologies to anyone he practically runs over.

Azul blushes when he sees you, but musters up enough courage to take your hand in his.

“In return for your help at the Lounge, I wish to offer you a dance!”

(Let him have this, please; he can’t talk to women.)

His moves while slow dancing are a bit stiff, but the calm atmosphere loosens him up enough to look decent and presentable.

This boy has horrible endurance, and the two of you stop dancing pretty quickly.

Azul steadily moves into the crowd of young men with you on his arm, a pep in his step like never before.

He’s an opportunistic businessman, so this ball of sorts constitutes the perfect networking opportunity for him.

The two of you small talk with a lot of people, spurring rumors about your closeness.

Fairly soon after the event, he decides to walk you back to Ramshackle, where he kisses your hand and bids you goodnight.

“If you have any free time, perhaps we can do something like this again..?”

Kalim

Kalim smiles brightly and rushes forward to you, the crowd parting ways for him, a beaming ray of sunlight basically leaping towards you.

His hands brush against yours as he presses a charming kiss to your gloved fingers, leading you toward the center of the practically vacant dancefloor as the music slows.

“I’ve had dreams about a moment like this!”

Kalim’s style of dancing is more fast-paced and lighthearted, spinning you around and dipping you haphazardly.

Making you laugh is his first priority, and he achieves it pretty quickly.

After dancing, he invites you to eat something alongside him—something quick and sweet, like cake or ice cream.

The two of you talk about your homelands, which mostly consists of him telling you about all the sights you’ll see when he takes you to his.

Kalim won’t realize it's late until you let him know.

Then he’ll walk you home, joking about how carried away the two of you got.

Right before you enter Ramshackle, he’ll press a kiss on your cheek and practically beam if you reciprocate it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe we could get lunch together!”

Vil

The sheer confidence Vil exhibits as he walks towards you is the polar opposite of the general uneasiness he feels inside.

I mean, usually he wouldn't care about the rest of those potatoes, but as he walked down rows of well-dressed boys, it seemed like everyone had ramped up their looks for the night.

Suddenly, he wasn't the brightest star in the sky.

However, when he got to your side and saw the look of awe in your eyes, everything fell into place for him again.

“You look enchanting, I’m glad you’ve been taking my fashion advice seriously.”

Vil dances almost like a bird, moving as if the music is chasing after him.

He’s tough to keep up with on the dance floor; he’s just so speedy, but he holds on to you quite tightly.

Being so close to Vil, he presses his head close to your neck and holds your waist sweetly. His slender hands are firm, guiding you.

You can probably see Rook in your peripheral vision, snapping photos (and maybe tearing up in sheer joy).

Because of his celebrity status, the two of you can’t exactly leave without a massive paparazzi presence.

So you decide to sneak out of a back door, something he considers improper but necessary.

The walk home is quiet but comfortable, and Vil’s hand is intertwined with yours.

When you reach the broken gate to Ramshackle House, he presses a kiss on your temple, leaving a pinkish stain.

“Remember to take off that makeup before bed, Potato. I’ll see you for breakfast this morning.”

Idia

Idia would rather be anywhere but here, but maybe that grand entrance cutscene wasn’t all that bad…

Unlike the other boys, Idia would not go after you first.

Instead, he would go find a place where no one would pester him.

Maybe after dancing quite formally and inflexibly with a boring cast of young men, you get quite socially tired and wander off, looking for a place to be alone for a bit.

That is how you find Idia, sitting on the floor in the empty kitchen section of the venue.

“H-hey! You of all people—you weren’t supposed to find me..”

Tiredly sitting down next to him, your big poofy dress impairing you from comfortably slouching.

You looked like a sad bear, just tired and done.

His face is burning so hard, it's crazy that the fire alarms have not gone off yet.

Idia raises a shaking hand to pat your back gently, placing his tablet on your lap.

“Wanna see the 3D model for my new desk…? I-I don’t know… you seem kinda bored.”

Cue the massive tangent he goes on about how horrible the dance is and how tiresome social interaction is with IRL people.

After some point, you start laughing at how ridiculously exasperated he sounds.

You two sneak out of the back door of the venue soon before the event is over.

Idia walks you home reluctantly, before realizing how cliche such a moment is and lowkey squealing a little into his hands.

He stays outside the doors of Ramshackle but waves you goodbye quickly.

You take the chance and kiss his cheek, prompting him to walk away from you, saying bye again in a slightly lower tone before turning his heel and walking away.

Malleus

It's safe to assume he’s waited for this moment since he’s met you.

Malleus steps towards you, any other person within his eyesight stepping out of it in fear or confusion.

He takes your hands in his and gives you a sweet smile, his towering form almost obscuring you from the peering eyes of the room.

“Might I be selfish this once and have your first dance?”

As the two of you dance, his guiding hand completely envelops yours, his eyes catching any missed steps and correcting you with a nudge in the right direction.

Circling around the marbled flooring, he holds you by your back and dips you by your waist.

It’s a scene straight out of a period piece.

The dimmed lights and moving crowd alert Malleus that the other festivities are starting, but he doesn’t want to waste a second out of your sight.

“Come along, Child of Man, we barely get a moment to ourselves these days…”

Your arm links around his as the two of you leave from the front entrance, evading the eyes of his retainers and sneaking off down the street.

Malleus listens to you ramble on about whatever fuels your curiosity.

Being in a new world must be difficult, and he finds your questions amusing.

When you reach the front door of Ramshackle, his hands find yours, and he pauses for a brief moment, like he’s debating something in his head.

Leaning downward, Malleus’s hair falls against his shoulders as you look up at him. Your lips connect for a brief moment before you walk back into your dorm.

He stands there for a moment, watching you walk in with a sweet smile on his face as he hears the voice of a familiar green-haired retainer yelling out for him.

The cool night air that filters through the cracked windows of Ramshackle House serves to calm you down after a long night of dancing and socializing. You lay on the dusty couch, still clad in your oversized ball gown, sparkling in the dim candlelight.

Grim was asleep beside you, his warm, fluffy fur pressed against your arm, and his gentle purring made your painted eyelids flutter with tiredness.

You thought back to the unforgettable night; spending time with him was a memory to cherish forever.

As you shook your arm to try and remove Grim, you realized he wouldn't budge, succumbing to your fate. You smiled and closed your eyes.

A wonderful ending to a wonderful night.

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avatarkv · 1 year

Text

III ! I watch the fathers with their little girls and wonder what I did to deserve this, (How could you hurt a little kid?)

✎ Synopsis ! You've been thrusted to carry the burden of the eldest after his passing. (First | Second)

Content & warning: Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. Mentions of death and violence! (wc; 3538)

This is like stones in your heart.

The journey felt like forever; soaring high above the lush forests of pandora and just beyond the great currents. The rush of wind was nauseating– a stark contrast to the fluttering feeling when you’re amidst the warm orange glow across the sky, the thrill of flying over the vibrant forest. It was as if the scent of the trees and the sounds of the animals below called for all you, bidding their goodbyes. You marveled at the beauty nonetheless– home. This was home and you couldn’t help but doubt your father again, asking yourself how he could ever stomach leaving.

You’re too young to feel this kind of hurt, you think, but could you still consider yourself a child after so many losses? Your Ikran would slightly falter whenever your mind drifted too far, thoughts taunting you to no end.

“Ma’ite,” Neytiri would softly call for you with Tuk hugging her tightly near her chest. You were sandwiched between her ikran and your father’s, throwing you glances every second. They were worried, you couldn’t even sit upright. Jake’s heart faltered every look shot towards him by his mate, but he couldn’t risk stopping; the enemy could be sleeping anywhere for all he knows. Everyone had to move forward.

When you finally arrived at Awa’atlu, the people there weren't exactly welcoming. Your skin felt slight discomfort, burning against the ambience and sand. It felt weird under the soles of your feet and it would sink slightly with every step. You approached the clan, hands upward like your father’s. They avoided you like the plague– like your family was some sort of incurable disease that they wouldn’t dare touch. Tonowari, the clan’s olo’eyktan, was condoling enough– unlike his hostile wife. She had addressed everyone with great disdain and perhaps, rightfully so. Ronal was skeptical– untrusting.

Demon-blood, she openly disclosed, tightly gripping your sister’s hands for everyone to see. You immediately pushed Kiri behind you, suppressing a hiss that threatened to leave your throat. “We are na’vi!” The look your father shot at you was enough reason to pipe down and let him do the talking, extremely careful not to enrage the Tsahik already.

Something softened inside her from seeing the troubled family. Ronal is Tsahik, but a mother nonetheless. She knew very well the struggle. After exchanging knowing looks, Tonowari approached Jake and granted them Uturu.

“Teach them our ways,” He had announced to the clan which was met with a few gasps of disbelief, “So they don’t suffer the shame of being useless.”

Their lifestyle intimidated you, Tonowari was right. You felt like a toddler taking your first step and it made your heart heavy. Everything you have ever known and learned– gone. You had no choice but to power through. Tsireya and Rotxo were accommodating, the kindest souls who had ever approached you since coming here. Ao’nung was a pain in the ass, but for the sake of keeping up images, you knew better than to piss him off.

“Breathe in,” Tsireya instructed while everyone inhaled, “And breathe out. Imagine flickering a flame– slow down your heartbeat.” While Tsireya was hospitable, she was a relentless teacher, absolutely eager to teach everyone their ways. Kiri seemed to have gotten the hang of it already and although you couldn't admit it, it set a pang of jealousy inside you.

You thought you’d learn in a span of days, letting yourself go easy the first few weeks but time passed quickly, blurring alongside the thrashing waves and the seafoam. Your body burned from fatigue, but your mind was the heaviest of all. It remained a mess and it did not help with your training, oh Eywa, you were falling behind– it was almost a month. A month of you trying to control your Ilu.

Ao’nung was equally frustrated, angry even. Not only was he wasting his time babysitting the Sullys’, you just couldn’t get the hang of it. His patience was wearing thin, if not nonexistent already. The olo’eyktan’s son tried to steady his breathing as he watched you situate yourself above the Ilu once again, hands grasping on the handles tightly. You lowered your body, chest meeting the creature’s back with a deep sigh.

“Control your form,” He reminded, “This is like riding your Ikran, tell them what to do. Clear your mind.” It was a mantra at this point, you swear you could even hear his voice while you slept. You knew very well you weren’t doing good, but it was your damn best already. Although Ao’nung wasn’t the friendliest, he did his part as a mentor nonetheless; he had carefully explained the technique, demonstrated it for you, and even spent time riding with you on its back to help you get a feel for it– but as the sun began to set over the tranquil waters, it was another reminder that you had to try again tomorrow.

You weren’t gonna give up so easily, despite the many bruises and scratches from the nearby corals whenever the Ilu would throw you off. With a determined nod, you asked it to go. The water rippled around you as you surged forward, pushing the creature to its ability, but as you went deeper, your mind had drifted once again to another memory.

The sun was just beginning to rise over the Hallelujah Mountains, casting a golden glow over the lush, verdant jungle below. You and your brothers each had mounted on your Ikrans, soared high above the treetops, their wings slicing through the crisp morning air. Neteyam let out a wild whoop of excitement, egging you on to pick up your pace. You responded with a grin, urging your Ikran to tilt her wings to gain speed and keep up with your brother's soaring figure.

While everyone weaved through the trees, their ikran's agile bodies allowed them to execute the most incredible maneuvers. The sun was now high in the sky, casting dappled shadows over the forest floor as the siblings continued their exhilarating race. Lo’ak struggled, the rush of wind hitting him straight to the face from behind. He groaned, feeling displeasure in letting his older siblings best him again. Neteyam cast a knowing glance, tilting his head towards him– you could only grin in approval.

He slowed down slightly, causing you to lag behind his Ikran. Lo’ak took this as an advantage and immediately surged forward. Your ikrans let out triumphant roars as they touched down and you could already see the smug smile plastered on your younger brother’s face as he approached you.

“Neteyam, did you see that?” He beamed in pride, hitting his brother in the shoulder. “Sis, this has got to be one of your bad days, hate to break it to ya.” He continued, saying how none of you should not have slacked and that he would never let this day live down ever– Lo’ak is a man of his words. The moment you returned back to the clan, it was all he could tell; he couldn’t stop talking about his win and you indulged him nonetheless.

“Mighty warrior,” Neteyam teased, putting his weight on Lo’ak’s shoulders as he tried to shake him off. “Maybe you can beat me in training next time then.” The laugh that erupted your throat was painful– too painful, you couldn’t breathe.

You flailed your arms in panic, suddenly aware of the lack of oxygen on your chest and your Ilu was long gone. You tried to shout, but your voice was lost in the roar of the waves crashing against you and was only met with bubbles gushing out your mouth. You kicked your legs violently, trying to swim above. You couldn’t see anything but the murky depths of the sea and you felt weaker by the second, muscles burning from the strain. This was it. Eywa had cursed you the death of being useless and you failed once again.

Maybe you weren’t cut out for this– weren’t used to sticking out like a sore thumb. You were your brother’s shadow and you liked it that way, being there with him through thick and thin. Now that he was gone, there was no shade to hide from the glaring sun and you had no choice but to stare back. Your mind was clouded with nothing but fear and desperation, most of all guilt. Your lungs ached from the lack of oxygen and before your body could finally still, a hand reached out and grabbed your arm. As you resurfaced, you coughed up water and gasped for air, body shivering against him as your hold tightened around his figure, but Ao’nung didn’t relent.

“What was that?” He barked as you two neared the shore, approaching the concerned expressions of your siblings. Ao’nung immediately retracts from your hold, nudging you off. “Something is blocking your mind and I could not care less for whatever it is. Get it off your head and stop being so incompetent– even Tuk can manage.”

He’s then met with a harsh shove from Lo’ak. “She’s new to this, cut her some slack bro.”

“It’s been weeks, she could’ve died there!” Tsireya held him back, shooting him a glare. He could only run a hand through his hair, anger wavering and was replaced with an equal pounding heart. “Great mother, help this sad excuse of a Na’vi.”

You hung your head in shame, feeling absolutely small and foolish. You were burning from embarrassment, the coldness from drowning immediately leaving your body. Their argument blurred from the background, only feeling Kiri’s hands searching your skin for any serious injuries. She then nudged your stiff shoulders softly, muttering a series of “Are you okay” and “Did it hurt?”. Vehemently shaking your head, you stormed off and made your way back to your pod.

You passed by Jake who was sharpening his hunting spear and immediately, he felt the aura you emitted. It was ominous– sad. He looks around for Neytiri, only to meet an empty space. He knew he had to deal with this one, “What’s wrong kid?” You heard him ask, but your reply still bubbled like acid inside your stomach, mouth opening only to close it shut again.

When he doesn’t get an answer, he finally approaches you and realizes you were hyperventilating– shaking. Your face was wet with tears and your fists were tightly clenched. He places a hand on your shoulder only for you to draw back sharply, almost as if his slightest touch had burned you and that was what put you on edge– the breaking point.

“I want to go home!” You cried, voice cracking and laced with nothing but longing. You circled around the Marui frantically and away from him, “Why are we here?”

He didn’t understand why you were mad at him. The look you threw was nauseating– a look you’ll never want to receive from your child. It was full of hate, borderline disgust. He slowly exhaled from his nose, exhausted himself. Jake just got back from a hunt with Tonowari and today wasn’t on his side either, having to embarrass himself multiple times in front of the clan’s olo’eyktan and his warriors. He’d be a big fat liar if he said that the training was a piece of cake, that he already got the hang of it.

The last thing he wanted now was to argue with his daughter, but the way his chest tightened told him that he needed to let it out. “You know damn well, __” His tone was steady, slowly brewing like the calm before a raging storm.

“No, why are we running? Why are we here when we could have ended the war back in the forest? Let it remain there instead of having it roam around to search for us?" You replied, “Do they know that? Are they aware that we’re only bringing them here?”

His fear was only now confirmed and he fought the urge to hang his head low and dissociate. You blamed him, he thought, and the creeping insecurities of being a father had once again rushed inside, now double in size. Jake thought he was doing good– better, even, but after all the occurrences and the strings he had to pull, there was no more proving himself. For a moment, he felt human again– unwanted. Right now he was just that sad marine who had lost everything and had nothing at all.

He palmed his face in frustration, unable to explain himself properly. “This is our last chance for home, do you hear me? No one is coming, no one!” His voice heightened, figure slightly towering over you. “Pull your weight–, bare some teeth and show skin. It’s just an Ilu, for Christ’s sake!” Of course he was aware of how his children struggled, listening attentively while they talked between meals or when they got back from a tiring day.

“You don’t understand! I didn’t grow here– throw me into the sea and they spit me right back out. I don’t belong here!” You responded in the same fierceness, chin raising. “I want to go home!”

“Then go! You’re so desperate to follow in your brother’s footsteps, then you might as well go! Get yourself killed there, is that what you want?” The loud snort he let out was only a hard jab to your beaten stomach. A father shouldn’t be his daughter’s first heartbreaker– hell, he should be the one to instill fear in whoever dares lay a finger even, but here he was, watching you crumble in front of him and it was from his own words.

You couldn’t help the frown deepening your features and he wanted nothing more than to rush to you in an embrace– to take back what he said, but your siblings had hurriedly entered the pod with Neytiri trailing behind with a basket of fruits she just washed. “What do you intend to do, let the whole clan know that you two are fighting?” She had butted in, pitch not the lowest either. Neytiri immediately rushes to you, while the others stand unmoving at the mouth of the Marui.

You missed your father; perhaps it was the reason for this argument boiling over. You haven’t talked to him ever since arriving at Awa’atlu, nor had he regarded you with even a faint nod. It took a toll on you, not having your father’s recognition. When you seeked the comfort of his arms back at home, he had only stared and while it was little no nothing at all, it gnawed your insides. You feared that he blamed you– it was your fault that he had to bury his child. The stupidest part of you hoped that he didn’t, that he was still your mighty warrior– his first baby girl.

The way he stood now, gaze still unwavering and cold, had crushed that small hope of yours.

The creases on your forehead was long gone as your legs threatened to cave in, “I wish you were more of a father than whatever a Toruk Makto is,”

You missed the way his ears flattened, the way his look had finally faltered. Neytiri had engulfed you in a hug, almost like she was trying to undo what you said. You could only hear his steps retreating and Tuk calling for your father– you could only cry harder when you felt the hands of your family, pulling you into a tighter embrace.

The night loomed heavily.

You desperately tugged on the woven cloth pulled up below your chin. You were no stranger to the lulling waves anymore, but you felt that the evening’s air was denser; it carried along a certain guilt you desperately sought to leave behind, and yet it continues to deprive you of rest. Everyone was soundly asleep, too tired to discuss today’s occurrences and too scared of what might leave their mouths the further it unravels. They were pretty good at doing just that– it was so unlikely for everyone to share their feelings, to tell each other where it hurts and where it’s heavy. You wondered how many more bottles could be filled before they realize that it’s already leaking from the brim, that it’s fine to let it all out before keeping it all in again.

Looking at everyone, you were almost convinced that they would never and that made you want to shout at your family– ask them why you were the only one crying your eyes out and mourning him to no end. It was confusing, so confusing for a child; just where do you unload all this grief?

Your father had not yet returned after the argument and while Neytiri assured you that he only needed air, you couldn’t help but feel worried. The night continued on without any sight of him and your stomach would only churn impossibly tighter.

The pod was silent except for your family’s soft snores and your own ragged breathing– tears streamed down your face and your body racked with sobs as you desperately tried to stifle them. You tried to breathe through your mouth, your nose too clogged to even function, and your chest heaved deeply with every attempt. Suddenly, a hand landed on your waist and for a second, you were still, afraid that you might have woken someone up– but the night continued on with the same silence and you were forced to turn your body to check.

Tuk immediately buries her face against your chest, wriggling her body closer to yours. You waited until she was completely unmoving again before you could let out a sigh of relief, stroking her hair gently.

“I dream about him sometimes,” Her whisper startled you. It sounded so small it could go unnoticed, but the way it muffled and vibrated off your chest told you that Tuk was indeed awake and speaking. You waited for her to continue, rubbing soft circles on her back. “He's still in the forest and we play there, just like before.”

You swallowed hard, trying to will the tears away. “Yeah? How’s he looking over there?”

“Mighty,” Tuk replies with a giggle, “Kiri and Lo’ak would sometimes be with us too and we would go on adventures–! could you believe that? Neteyam is finally letting me go with the bigger kids now.”

You let her ramble, listening intently to her stories and what her dreams contained. There was a sense of normality to hearing her talk without a problem, Tuk had that kind of power– trust her to lighten up a gloomy room. You couldn’t even remember the time you had a conversation as heartfelt as this, just you and your little sister. She continued babbling, drawing shapes on your stomach and tracing the stripes on your skin.

“But you know, you’ve never joined us– never seen you in my dream even once.” Her voice starts to lower again as she digs her head further into your chest, hugging you closer, “I miss him too, tsmuke, but I think I miss you more now. I hardly see you and you’re just right here– feels like I'm losing you too.”

Your eyes widen. You forget that Tuk is still a child– literally years younger and that must be so confusing for a little girl; it was impossible for her thin arms and small fingers to hold shards of grief that continues to wound you, let alone for all the family– so just what were you doing? Why are you letting her carry such a burden already?

You start to sob again and you feel the same wetness against your chest. You frantically search for her face and desperately try to wipe the tears falling from her eyes, peppering her with kisses all over as you let out apologies. Every sorry grew miserable, slurring with each peck and she would only cry harder. “I’m here, sweet child, just here.” You would comfort her, “If you feel troubled, come to me, yeah? Your sister is strong– let her carry everything for you, alright?”

Her hand reaches up, attempting to wipe away your tears as well. You both stared at each other and it was enough words said; only now can you see her troubled doe eyes and it pierces through your heart with a thousand more needles. This was your epiphany; the realization that everyone endured differently and no matter how much you wept, they mourned just the same– hurt just as bad. You had to move forward, even if it meant letting your condolences rest.

Unknowingly, your father listened just outside, his heart wringing him of any more emotions. He knew very well how he failed as a father. He missed his son– misses him terribly. His eyes were locked on the handle of his dagger, fingers tracing against the messily etched names of his children on the wooden hilt. A reminder of what he was fighting for– of who he was trying so hard to protect, and yet he still needed to bury his eldest and break the heart of his daughter. Maybe Eywa did turn his back on the chosen one already, maybe his luck had already run out.

This is like stones in his heart, and he could never lessen the weight.

☆ mauve here! finally finished with chapter 3, had to rewrite this like one or two times. it was a pain in my ass, im crying hahah will be inactive for a week! traveling to the rural and the signal there is whack. special tag for @eywas-heir bec i love her SMOOCH

Tags: @aonungsmate @cappsikle @minkyungseokie @wwwellacom @dearstell @alohastitch0626 @gcldtom @aleracrovn

#mauve writes ☆#family angst #sully family x sister!reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #neteyam x sister!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #tuk x sister!reader #angst #avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water

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clairdelunelove · 1 year

Text

dry the rain

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (rainy day drabble)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, awkward!ghost

synopsis: getting caught up in the rain during a mission is pretty miserable. but ghost makes it his goal to keep you dry and warm– even if it includes shedding off a layer!

a.n. I've been pushing myself to write more and I had a small idea come to mind since it's been raining a lot recently! personally, I imagine him in his 'jawbone' outfit in this one! stay safe, cuties! and if you wish to show more support here's my kofi! <3

thinking about ghost's inner dilemma when the weather gets colder and he realizes that he'd offer anything to you– including his clothes.

missions in the rain were, in many cases, the absolute worst. unbearably muddy terrain caused the task force to reroute several times, delaying the overall pick-up time, and he was essentially losing his patience over the whole ordeal. he still had inventory to check, weapons to reload, and strategies to draft. too much on the agenda; too little time. a huff leaves his lips as he hankers down in a rather secluded spot. there aren’t too many recruits flocking around him in this area since they’re preoccupied with shielding away from the incessant rainstorm. many of them crowd around large trees to find cover under the broad leaves. some were huddling to retain warmth because the onslaught of rain meant that a frigid breeze accompanied it. but he settles in the outskirts and it's tolerable. he’s adapted to shouldering the storm and chilliness. though, he does admit that the downpour was intense and his drenched balaclava was a consequence of that. it was so damp and sodden that it clung uncomfortably to the contours of his face. his hand claws at the front of his mask to ease the irritating feeling.

ghost who overhears your quiet sniffling despite your efforts of muffling the noise. it’s so hushed that he barely recognizes it over the harsh thundering of rain but his ears perk at the typical sound. and sure, he distinctly recalls that this is probably your first experience with such severe weather since you were belatedly tossed into this group but it’s a run-of-the-mill incident. technically, it’s not his problem. the icy wind is numbing enough to discern that a person is bound to experience some of the symptoms that coexist with this type of extreme weather. it’s only natural– nothing to fret over. yet, his head turns in your direction before logic can kick in.

ghost who stiffly asks, “you cold?” like his eyes don’t frantically scan your face for any signs of discomfort. he’d already deduced your current state; spotting the blueish tint creeping up on the edge of your lips and how your eyes appear hazy. he shoves himself into your proximity and at this angle his physique engulfs you. his gloved hand reaches to push the hood of his khaki poncho down so he can properly assess your condition and at this moment he’s unbothered by how sopping wet his mask is. or how intense the rain is. doesn’t care about it anyway– just intends on helping you. with rain droplets pouring down your face, you look like a hollow version of yourself. vaguely perceives the nauseating tug in his chest when you manage a bleak smile and joke, “was unprepared for this since I didn’t know it’d be raining cats and dogs.”

ghost who knowingly shakes his head at your banter but still indulges you by murmuring, “is that how the sayin’ goes?” because he fancies the way your lips curl into a lopsided grin. thunder rumbles in the distance and the cozy moment is partially interrupted. ghost notices that your shoulders tense at the occasional roar and you absentmindedly hum in response to his question. you have the best intentions but it’s too late because he’s uttering a curse as your teeth chatter from the blitz of a strong gust of wind that seeps through your layers of clothing.

ghost who silently begins to shed off his poncho; his only layer of rain-resistant clothing. doesn’t mull over the consequences of catching a cold or worse– never even considers it. he’s prepared to sacrifice for you. “oh,” he hears your surprised gasp and sees how quickly your hands outstretch to ward off his offering, “you need it more than I do, lieutenant. thank you though.” and there’s that sheepish smile on your face again. the flicker of your eyes informs him that you’re embarrassed for needing extra support. for being human. and he’ll never quite understand how genuinely selfless you are. the trait is synonymous to you and a source of strength that is entirely yours to keep. to thrive off of. “s’just take it, pup,” his voice rumbles as profound as a pass of thunder, “you’re cold.”

ghost who jabs, “don’t fancy carryin’ ya when you get fuckin’ hypothermia,” and then adds under his breath, “don’t want to risk it. ‘specially not with you.” the first half is a total lie and it’s obvious by how he shifts when he says it. he’d carry you to the ends of the earth. however, the second half of his comment is drowned out by the ample rainfall. and you never do hear those words that would’ve kept you warm for eternity but you’re given the next best circumstance when he crouches closer to you. the pouches of his tactical vest, housing grenades or ammunition, dig into your chest and it’s supposed to be uncomfortable if it wasn’t for the gentle way ghost drapes the large garment over your shoulders.

ghost who takes it upon himself to secure the poncho’s hood over your head so it rests snugly under your chin. you’re still shivering, hot puffs of air escape your lips, but the function of the extra layer slowly warms you up. his gaze on you is burning, “you don’t ever have to pretend,” and then murmurs, “not with me. not ever.” the fabric does its job immediately and shields you from the onslaught of rain. that isn’t the issue he’s concerned about, however.

ghost who, when he pulls away, sucks in a shaky breath because the view that greets him will frequent his dreams. he’s certain of it. his touch accidentally dips down to the slope of your collarbones and he’s directly reminded that you’re wearing his poncho. his clothes. and it drapes over your body so alluringly. dips and presses into every curve of your body. possessiveness creeps up on him like a threatened animal, baring sharp canines and all. your prying eyes don’t aid in the situation either. raking up his exposed forearms, sifting and inquisitive about the tattoos that swirl in a manic pattern. a rare strip of his skin that graces your vision.

ghost who awkwardly indicates how the fabric loosely hangs off your upper torso since it’s made for his broader physique, “looks ridiculous,” but he’s tugging the hood of the poncho over your eyes. can’t physically operate when he watches how your dewy lashes flutter when he allows his fingers to graze over your shoulders and pat down the cloth for wrinkles. his actions are meant to be mindless, calculative, and intended to take his mind off of you. yet, he can’t– and doesn’t wish to. desires to douse himself in the ethereal glow you embody. the wide, grateful glint in your gaze that brands him vulnerable and when you smile up at him he feels the clouds break. lets the sun warm his skin.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon riley #call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon riley imagine #cod x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley drabble #ghost x you #ghost x y/n

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chvoswxtch · 1 year

Note

just started the punisher & absolutely in love with how you write frank castle. i’m already a huge simp and NEED a bodyguard!frank x reader fic where the reader gets a lil tipsy & likes to run away from him? ofc she runs into trouble with other guys at the bar and immediately regrets losing frank but he comes in at the right time?

if not i totally understand and will continue to binge all of your fics!!

-thor ✨🥰

thor!!! my sweet sparkly angel baby god of thunder!!! ✨

you're so PRECIOUS. thank you so much, and thank you so much for the request. I can't believe I hadn't thought of bodyguard!frank before like...you're a genius. I left this one kinda open ended bc I wasn't sure exactly what kind of relationship we were going for between frankie & reader, so I kept it subtle BUT as always, if you want more just let me know. 😏 ❤️

warning: contains violence and mentions of blood (frankie is the punisher after all), swearing, mentions of alcohol, & mentions of harassment (if this makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip!) word count: 3k

it's my job.

[next chapter] | [series masterlist]

You should’ve listened. He told you to stay close. He told you not to have that sixth drink. He told you to stay where he could see you. But you didn’t listen.

Why hadn’t you fucking listened?

Because he frustrated you. Because he was all stone cold gazes and silence. Because he ignored you like he was paid to do that instead of protecting you. Because his eyes were always over you or around you, but never on you.

Because you had a school girl crush on your body guard and you couldn’t figure out why.

Well, you knew part of that why. He was incredibly handsome in a rugged way. He was big and broad and looked like he could snap you in half with his bare hands if he wanted. You’d seen him crack a smile once, not at you of course, but another one of the guys that was assigned to you, and God was it beautiful. It softened his face in a way that made you stupid, and that was probably why you had made the dumbass decision that you had.

You weren’t a damsel in distress by any means, but you’d certainly play the part if it meant Frank Castle was coming to your rescue.

The plan was simple. Slip away from Frank at the bar, find a random guy to flirt with, wait for Frank to find you, and finally be his center of attention. Simple, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Frank had turned his head for one second, and you were gone, giggling to yourself as you pictured the pissed off look on his face. Were you being a brat? Absolutely. But as pretty as Frank was, he was also a huge dick most of the time. It was only fair to return the favor considering he had been driving you crazy for months now. Tipsy you had completely justified your actions, and you agreed with her.

It didn’t take long to find an unsuspecting player in your little game. He had a godawful smirk on his face that definitely wasn’t as attractive as he thought it was, and clearly screamed ‘no one’s ever told me no in my entire life’. That should’ve been red flag number one. His overconfidence was as nauseating as the sound of his voice, but you reminded yourself you had a game to win. You subtly kept glancing around for Frank, wondering what the hell was taking so long. All of a sudden, Jason…Jake…whatever the hell his name was-decided to invite his entire frat house apparently to crash your little party.

That was when the chaos started.

They all crowded around you in a corner in the back, completely blocking your view from the rest of the bar. You started to feel a little nervous, realizing that if you couldn’t see Frank, he couldn’t see you. That thought, along with the ravenous gaze in each of the men’s eyes, completely sobered you up. You didn’t like their lingering stares. You didn’t like how close they all were. This wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t a game. It was a mistake.

“I-I think I should go find my friend. Excuse me.”

“Whoa, where you going, princess? I thought we were your friends?”

The ringleader didn’t hide the path of his eyes as they traveled down your body, and it made you feel sick. His friends snickered as they moved in closer towards you, not bothering to hide their shameless gazes either.

“What, you don’t like us anymore?”

Think. Think. Think.

Don’t piss them off.

Play along.

Be smart.

You attempted your best polite smile, shaking your head slowly as you tried to find a gap between their bodies.

“Just wanna make sure no one sends a search party and ruins the fun. I’ll be right back.”

You tried not to move too quickly as you went to step between two of them, but a tight grip on your wrist yanked you backwards against an uncomfortable chest.

“Why don’t you just text them later. C’mon, don’t be difficult.”

There was a fear bubbling up in your chest and your throat felt tight. God why hadn’t you just fucking listened to Frank? Where the hell was he? You just wanted to go home. You sent a silent prayer up to whoever was listening that you’d never do anything stupid like this again if you could just go home.

“You’re hurting me.”

You winced, not from the weakness in your own voice, but from the harsh orchestra of laughter at your words. You felt like a lamb trapped in a circle of wolves. The horrid feeling of the man’s hand caressing your face caused your fingers to tremble, whimpering slightly as his hand gripped your jaw tightly when you tried to turn away from his touch.

“What’s the matter, princess? Don’t like it rough?”

“Frank?!”

If he couldn’t see you, maybe he could at least hear you.

“That’s not my name, baby. Don’t worry, we can practice you screaming it later. I promise, it’ll be the only one you remember after I-”

A high pitched yelp rang loudly in your ears and it took a couple of seconds to realize that it came from the man that was grabbing you. Blinking a few times, you stared dumbfounded as you realized Frank had pinned his arm behind his back in a very painful looking position and had slammed his face into the closest wall.

“You put this fuckin’ hand where it don’t belong again, and I’m gonna break it. You got that?”

Frank must have done something to prove his point, because the man cried out as he furiously tried to nod his head that was trapped against the wall.

“Fuck…y-yeah, yeah I got it! Just fucking let go!”

As Frank released him and took a step backwards, the man fervently turned around, ready to strike until he took in the look on Frank’s face. There was pure fear in that man’s eyes, and you could’ve sworn you saw him gulp as he quickly took a step backwards. He looked comically small compared to Frank. It fueled something within you to see him look so small and fragile. Frank turned his head slightly to shoot a warning look to the others, one they quickly responded to by taking a step back and holding their hands up in surrender.

Shooting one last glare to the ring leader, Frank finally turned around to face you. A shiver tumbled down your spine at the fury burning in his eyes. He was pissed.

“You alright?”

The tone of his voice was so harsh and gruff it almost hurt your ears, having the complete opposite effect it normally did. You brought your trembling hand up and held your wrist against your chest, trying to ignore the sting of pain you felt as you cast your eyes downward and nodded.

You jumped slightly when you felt the warm weight of Frank’s palm on your arm, noticing the way his face fell ever so slightly as he recognized the terror in your eyes. He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, nodding his head towards your wrist.

“Lemme see.”

If Frank was pissed before, he was fucking enraged now. Allowing him to hold out your wrist to inspect it, his jaw immediately hardened when he saw the faint outline of fingerprints blooming on your skin in light shades of maroon.

“Fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Before you had a chance to stop him, Frank’s fist was colliding with the man’s jaw, causing you to wince as you heard it crack like thunder across the sky in a violent storm. You could hear one of his ribs shattering like glass as Frank landed a powerful blow to his chest, grunting as he dragged him back up by his collar.

“Thought you liked it rough, huh? You pussyin’ out on me now?”

The man feebly tried to push at Frank’s chest to create some distance. He would’ve had better luck trying to knock down a brick wall with his bare hands. His friends stood stunned in place by Frank’s wrath, paralyzed with horror as their fearless leader sobbed and pleaded for mercy.

“You like putin’ your hands on women, yeah? That make you feel big? Make you feel like a man?”

Frank’s voice boomed in your ears the louder he got. There was a frenzied look in his eyes, and you’d lost count of how many times his fist had collided with various parts of the man’s body.

“Frank, please.”

Frank’s unrelenting fist paused midair at the sound of your voice, head snapping in your direction. He wasn’t going to stop unless you begged him to. You could see it in his eyes.

“I wanna go home. Please, Frank. Please take me home.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw as he glanced between you and the man whose bloodied face was now unrecognizable. Grabbing onto his jaw roughly, the man whimpered as a fresh stream of blood leaked from his mouth. Frank leaned in close, staring directly into the eye that wasn’t swollen shut as he growled lowly.

“You ever come near her again, or I hear anythin' ‘bout you putin’ your hands on another woman, I’ll fuckin’ make you scream. And it’ll be the last goddamn thing you do. You got that?”

Frank didn’t wait for an answer. He swiftly guided you out with his hand on your lower back, ignoring the horrified looks from everyone as they parted for him like the red sea. The slam of the passenger door caused you to jump, buckling yourself in with trembling hands as Frank sped out of the parking lot like a madman.

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t face the rage on his face and the disappointment in his eyes. One glance in his direction had you immediately turning away. His fist was coated in the man’s blood as it gripped onto the steering wheel, crimson almost gleaming under the moonlight as it dripped down his wrist. You pushed it too far. You pushed him too far.

The entire drive home was silent. You desperately wanted to get out and get away from him. How were you ever supposed to look at him again? He was probably going to quit after what you did. How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? You stared at your reflection in the side mirror.

Well, you got what you wanted.

As soon as his truck pulled into the driveway you were unbuckling yourself and dashing out towards the front door. Your fingers trembled as you struggled with the lock, heart thrashing in your ribcage hearing Frank’s heavy boots pounding angrily against the concrete. He silently reached around you to grab the keys, turning the lock and shoving the door open angrily as you rushed through the threshold.

His large hand caught your arm before you could disappear into your bedroom, spinning you around quickly as he stared down at you furiously.

“Why do you gotta always be so goddamn difficult? Why can’t you just do what the fuck I ask, when I ask it?”

“Frank-”

“You are a fuckin’ relentless pain in my ass, you know that? You got any idea what coulda happened to you? What they woulda done? Is that what you want?”

“No, I-”

“Because that woulda been on me. Somethin’ happens to you, it’s on me. It don’t matter that you’re a goddamn spoiled brat that can’t fuckin’ listen to save her fuckin’ life, it’s my ass. You get that? Or are you so goddamn selfish, you can’t see past yourself?”

He was right. You knew he was right. You had been selfish. You could’ve gotten yourself seriously hurt, or worse. You could’ve gotten Frank hurt or worse. And for what? Because he did his job too well? Because he wouldn’t entertain your bullshit? A lump of regret caught in your throat and you could feel guilt brimming along your waterline. You were a selfish, spoiled brat to him. That’s all he saw you as, and would ever see you as, because that was all you had proven to him. He probably hated you, and that thought alone is what finally broke you.

“I’m sorry, Frank. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-I wasn’t thinking. I was being stupid. I…I was being selfish. If you hadn’t been there…I don’t…I can’t…”

You shuddered as you thought about how that sentence would end. You didn’t even wanna think about it. You realized in that moment how complacent you had gotten because of Frank. He was always there. The thought of someone getting past him never even occurred to you. There was never a chance for anyone to get too close to you until you created one.

Frank paused his irritated pacing, his face softening as he heard the remorse that cracked through your voice. Your hands were trembling as you choked words out through your heavy tears, and for the first time that night he thought about how scared you must have been. He glanced at the bruises that marked your wrist and let out a deep exhale through his nose. You were a pain in the ass, but he knew you hadn’t intended for tonight to happen. You could be careless sometimes, but not enough to put yourself in that situation.

Frank took a few cautious steps forward, placing his hands delicately on your shoulders.

“Hey, breathe. Everythin’s alright, yeah? You’re home. You’re alright. Just…breathe for me, sweetheart.”

“I’m so sorry, Frank-”

Frank let out another deep sigh as he pulled you in close, hugging your head against his chest as he gently rubbed your back.

“Hey…hey, I know. I know you didn’t mean for it to happen. Look, it’s over, yeah? Don’t matter anymore. Just focus on breathin’ for me.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt, and I-”

Frank pulled back slightly as he cupped your jaw delicately, searching your eyes with confusion knit between his dark brows. It felt drastically different than when that man had grabbed your face earlier. Frank’s fingers were rough, but they were soft as they touched you. Frank would never hurt you. His full lips were pursed in almost a pout as he searched your eyes, and it was the first time you were able to look at them so closely. They were a breathtaking shade of chocolate brown, and looked so different when he wasn’t angry. His entire face was different when he let that brooding mask slip.

After a beat of silence, the edge of his mouth curved in the tiniest of smirks as his eyes lit up with mischief.

“The hell you worryin’ ‘bout me for? I’m the one protectin’ you, ya’know.”

“I don’t make that easy.”

“No, you don’t.”

There was a somewhat playful tone to the normal edge of his voice. He was trying to make you feel better, but you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

“And I could’ve gotten us both hurt because of it.”

Frank had expected you to banter back with him. You always had some smartass comeback ready to fire, and he secretly enjoyed it. But the dejection in your voice made him worry he’d been too hard on you earlier. A bigger part of him was nervous that he’d scared you in the bar, and that gnawed at the pit of his stomach.

“Have I ever let a single thing happen to you?”

“No, but-”

“Do you think I ever would?”

“No, but Frank-”

“Good. My job is to protect you. I don’t need you worryin’ ‘bout me, sweetheart. I can take a lot more than you give me credit for. What I do need is you to worry ‘bout yourself, and listen. I don’t tell you shit to be a hardass or try to control you. It’s to keep you safe. You got that?”

“Yes, Frank.”

“So, we understand each other now? You gonna start listenin’?”

“I will, I promise.”

“Attagirl.”

Frank granted you a miniscule smile as he wiped a stray tear away from your cheek, and a tiny surge of pride flowed through you at his praise. You wanted more of that. You gently wrapped your hand around his wrist, finding yourself unable to break his mesmerizing gaze.

“I don’t ever want anything like tonight to happen again.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I was really scared, Frank.”

“Did I scare you?”

Frank’s voice was quieter as he voiced his inquisition, and you could hear the vulnerability laced in it. You quickly shook your head, holding onto his wrist a little tighter.

“I wasn’t scared of you, Frank. I never have been. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to find you. That you wouldn’t be able to find me. That I…might never see you again.”

“I’ll always find you, sweetheart. I promise.”

You thought you liked how your name sounded coming from Frank’s mouth, and God you did, but sweetheart…yeah you liked that much better.

“Frank-”

“Go get some sleep. We’ll talk in the mornin’.”

“Are you leaving?”

Frank quirked one of his brows as he looked at you, a smile ghosting over his mouth so fast you had to convince yourself you hadn’t imagined it.

“Kinda defeats the purpose of body guardin’ if I ain’t here to guard your body, yeah? And since someone can’t manage to keep herself outta trouble, can’t really take any chances.”

Something about that sentence had heat violently spreading across your cheeks, and traveled very far downwards. You nodded your head quickly, trying to will your brain to remember how to speak as you cleared your throat.

“Right…um…guest room is-”

“Across from yours, I remember.”

“Um…goodnight, Frank.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

You flashed him a tight lipped smile, trying to gather yourself as you turned around and headed towards your bedroom. What a fucking night. As you opened your bedroom door, you paused for a second and turned around, only to find Frank still in the same spot you had left him, watching you closely. He turned his body to face you expectantly, cocking his head slightly to the side in question.

“Thank you.”

Frank’s hand twitched slightly as his side, giving you a slight nod.

“It’s my job, sweetheart.”

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle request #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher request #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

Note

Hey darling.

I love your writing! I have an idea in my head that I was hoping you could write up.

Hangman fic based on the song Cowboy Casanova by Carrie Underwood. I heard the song recently and immediately thought of Jake❤️

A/N: Aww thank you so much, anon! I have to say that I hadn't heard this song before but I'm now obsessed with it, so thank you for that XD And I agree, it's absolutely perfect for him, isn't it? Hope you like it!

Devil in Disguise

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: You try to discourage your friend from getting involved with the infamous Jake Seresin, but your counsel is pointless because this cowboy has other plans anyway.

CW: mild angst, drinking, swearing

WC: 1200+

Masterlist

“Don’t even think about it,” you mutter, slurping on your strawberry daiquiri while you eye the smirking man from across the bar.

Your friend blinks at you innocently. “What are you talking about?” she says.

“Trust me,” you warn. “You don’t want to go there.”

Your friend licks her lips and glances back at the man leaning on the jukebox, riffling through the various options. For as long as you’ve known him, Jake Seresin has always been riffling through options, musical and otherwise.

“He’s going to rip your heart out,” you caution, lifting the straw out of your drink and chugging the rest of it right from the glass.

“He’s so beautiful.” Your friend pouts.

“Yes, he is,” you agree, setting your empty glass down while the pub starts to spin around you as if your bar stool is mounted atop a carousel. “He’s also the devil.”

Your friend laughs and you try to focus on her face with a stern expression. “You sound like you speak from experience,” she comments.

You grimace. “Unfortunately.”

“Don’t worry,” she says, rising from her seat. “I know what I’m getting myself into.”

You grab her hand. “No, you don’t. You think you’re just going to have a fun night, no strings attached. You think you’re going to be in control of the situation.” Your tone is almost pleading now as you wiggle your friend’s wrist. “He’ll have other plans, babe. He’s going to make you fall for him. You’re going to fall so hard.”

Your friend takes you by the shoulders, stabilizing you. “Y/N,” she says. “Are you in love with him?”

You cringe, suddenly extremely nauseated. “God, no!”

“Then he’s fair game, right?”

You wince. “You don’t want to do this,” you say, but your words come out a little bit slurred and you’re not so sure that your message has been received. Because your friend nods at you and starts for the damn cowboy in khakis with his sunglasses hanging off the collar of his uniform. You groan and promptly turn away, not at all eager to see your friend hit it off with the man who has made the last six months of your life a living hell. You wave down the bartender and request your fifth drink of the night, but who’s keeping count? Certainly not you.

You’re almost finished your beverage when your friend returns with a giant grin on her face. “I’m taking off,” she says excitedly.

“No!” you moan.

“Relax, not with Cowboy Casanova,” she replies. “His friend, though!” She winks at you. You glance over your shoulder to see one of the other aviators smiling sheepishly at your friend as she gives you a quick hug. “You’ll get home okay?” she asks in a hurry.

You nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll grab an Uber.”

“By the way,” she murmurs in your ear before taking off. “Pretty boy can’t keep his eyes off you.”

But she’s gone before you can respond with an assortment of your favorite profanities. You down the remainder of your drink in silence and then stand to pull your phone out of your pocket so you could call for a ride. You’ve already got the app open when he strolls into your periphery and starts drumming obnoxiously on the counter with the tips of his fingers. You lift your eyes grimly and watch as he flags down the bartender while completely ignoring your existence. You try not to let your body react the way it always does in his presence, but you’re already feeling your palms begin to sweat.

Then, he looks over at you, smirking when he sees that you’ve already spotted him. Your heart does a somersault which adds to your vertigo and amplifies your perspiration. “I hear you’ve been talking about me,” he says.

You give him a dirty look. “Just a little PSA. I feel it is my civic duty.”

He chuckles slightly. “I’ve left an impression, then?”

You do your best to not roll your eyes like a schoolgirl. Licking your lips with contempt, you grace him with a deadpan expression. “More like a sour taste in my mouth.”

He turns to face you, leaning lazily into the bar. “Look at that, you’re all out of alcohol.” He nods at your empty glass.

“Look at that,” you reply with a tight smile. “It’s time for me to go.” You turn to leave, concentrating all your efforts on walking in a straight line despite the spinning of the room. You blink as the tables around you drift from side to side as though they were floating on water.

Before you can make it to the door however, Jake fuckboy Seresin catches up to you, casually stepping into your path with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You seem upset,” he says with a knowing squint.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you respond flatly.

“You know,” Jake says, leaning back into the door to open it for you. “You wasted your time warning her off.”

You glare at him as you walk out. “If I could save just one friend the heartache, it’s not a waste.”

Jake meets your gaze with a subtle smirk, stepping into the dusk after you. “I don’t want her.”

You stare at him as he follows you outside, the insinuation of his statement making you slightly queasy.

He takes a slow but very deliberate step toward you. “There’s only one person I want,” he says in a low voice.

You scoff while simultaneously gulping in apprehension. “You mean one thing,” you manage to say.

Jake Seresin is no longer smiling; he knows the game, and the current play calls for sincerity or, at the very least, a decent simulation of it. “It’s you,” he says simply.

And despite knowing that every word that comes out of his mouth is a big, fat lie, you feel an irrational desire to just believe. You take several fevered breaths as his face nears yours before replying, “Fuck off.” But you don’t resist when his hand snakes around your waist.

His eyes rake over your face, his gaze lingering on your lips for several torturous seconds before he looks back up. “I want you,” he says, all serious as if he hadn’t already promised you forever once upon a time.

“You can’t have me,” you say, forcing an element of defiance into your voice as his face gets close enough for you to smell his aftershave.

You feel his thumb stroke your ribcage, his touch featherlight. “I know,” he mutters, pushing his forehead into yours insistently.

You close your eyes as his breath sweeps over your face. “It’s too late, Jake,” you whisper.

He nods, his other hand closing around your arm as his nose brushes against yours. “I know,” he repeats.

You feel yourself melting underneath his searing touch but somehow you find the strength to keep talking. “I don’t trust you.”

Jake’s hold on your arm tightens slightly while his other hand drops down to your hip. He tugs you forward. “You shouldn’t,” he says quietly; the first honest words he’s ever spoken – at least to you.

His bottom lip skims your cheek, just shy of your mouth. Not a kiss but rather a loitering pause along your skin. You exhale with a shudder when you feel his lips brush the corner of your mouth. Your lips part; not kissing, just waiting. “I’m leaving,” you murmur against his mouth.

You feel his lips spreading into a grin. “Good idea,” he responds.

Then, he kisses you.

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@letskeepthislo-ki

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pinkanonwrites · 6 months

Note

HEHEHE I LOVE THE RODIMUS STORYY I'm obsessed with all the first contact au stories with rodimus and I would love if you could please do more if you ever feel like it 😭 the ones with language barrier and size difference are muah 🤌💫

If youre ever up for it or would feel comfortable, would you be willing to please write one where maybe the reader is sick with the flu and is either about to or actually does throw up and rodimus has no idea what the flu is or what throwing up is for humans and he has no idea how to deal with it 😅 and ofc the human can't explain bc language barrier.

Or any other rodimus with lil human stuff you can post I will happily gobble up hehe

I liked this idea too much for it to just be in bullet points, so it turned into a mini fic. Hope you enjoy!

Rodimus/Reader First Contact AU, Human Reader, GN Pronouns, Sickfic, emeto mention

Gazing blearily up at the ceiling as fluorescent lighting above whizzed past, you couldn’t fully tell if the nauseating pitch and wave of your surroundings was just from your sickness, or if panic was making Rodimus significantly less gentle than usual. Either way, if you had anything left in your stomach you probably would have thrown up again by now.

How foolish you were, to assume that being on an interdimensional traveling spaceship meant you would be less likely to suffer from the illnesses and maladies that you would normally find on Earth. No, now you were subject to an entire galaxy’s worth of potential contractible ailments instead. And though you could compare this one to some of the worse stomach viruses you’d had throughout your life back home, you didn’t really have a way to communicate to Rodimus that you weren’t, in fact, dying. No matter how much it felt like you were.

The hiss of a hydraulic powered door was almost drowned out by your caretaker’s panicked boops and screeches as he ran up to another one of the bots aboard the ship. A black helm and a shoulder-mounted cannon stepped into your nausea-warped vision, and a familiar gleam of a single, blue lens stared down at you. One of the scientist bots, the nicer one of the two that had poked and prodded at you when Rodimus first presented you to them. His name was… Perceptor?

But when he reached out a giant metal finger to you, Rodimus was quick to pull you back against his chest and out of the other’s reach. A kind gesture, but one that left you nearly gagging from the sudden wave of vertigo that racked your system. You winced at the feeling of Rodimus’s thumb brushing your cheek, the sticky pull of sweaty skin against hot metal, and the warble he let out in response sounded absolutely heartbroken. Through your hazy vision you could see tense corners of his mouth pull down, the soft glow of his eyes looking dimmer than usual as he cradled you. Then, with as much care as he could muster, he laid you so delicately upon Perceptor’s desk. His fingers stroked the top of your head, hands still bracketing you as if he was afraid you’d slip through his fingertips and right off the edge of the table as soon as he let his guard down. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel safer knowing he was worried about you. It was hard to imagine many worse scenarios than getting sick in outer space, but getting sick alone in outer space seemed pretty high up there.

So you let yourself be gently prodded at and scanned by Perceptor, Rodimus’s hands never straying far enough for you to not reach him. They murmured back and forth to each other all the while, a chittering of mechanical whirs and buzzes like an old fax machine pumping out a distant message. The chill of the metal surface under your back left goosebumps crawling up your skin, another detail that quickly drew Perceptor’s curiosity. After an amount of time you couldn’t possibly have estimated with your sickness-addled, swimming mind working at less than half the capacity of usual, both bots leaned away from the table to discuss something, like they were afraid you’d somehow overhear.

The sudden, harsh glow of the ceiling lights above left you squinting, a soft whimper escaping your throat despite yourself. Immediately Rodimus was upon you again, his giant chin resting on the edge of the table as his eyes flitted about over your shaking, exhausted frame. His hands hovered around you, fingers tense like he wasn’t sure if he should pick you up or not. But the warmth of his massive hands was a lot more comforting right now than the sterile chill of the tabletop, so with a great amount of effort you wormed your way back into his grasp.

Perceptor let out another, stern sounding buzz. Rodimus brought you back to his chest, resting your cheek against the smooth slope of metal as he responded in kind. You let your eyelids flutter shut as they continued to chatter. Whatever they were talking about didn’t really matter to you right now. Regardless of whatever was going on, you knew Rodimus would take care of you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“And it’s not atrophosia? You’re sure?”

“Just because atrophosia comes from organics, Rodimus, does not mean they can contract it. No, what we’re looking at seems to be some form of organic virus.”

“That’s good, right?” Rodimus peeked at Perceptor from the corner of his optic, unwilling to take his full attention off of you for too long. Your little frame was sprawled weakly across the scientist’s desk, organic coolant and these strange, microscopic bumps beading across your body. Perceptor let out a curious hum, lifting your tiny servo up with the tip of his pen. Rodimus stifled the urge to slap it away. “If it’s a virus, it can be removed, right?”

“It’s not quite that simple. Organics don’t have accessible coding to allow ourselves entry. Their only solution is the old fashioned way, get plenty of recharge and wait it out.”

“But look at them! They’re all shaky and covered in coolant! A-And just earlier today, they purged their tanks!”

“That’s a good thing. Organics will purge their tanks as an emergency reflex to intrusive disease or illness. There’s actually a fascinating organic, a form of amphibian which can expel their entire tank when in-”

“Great! Cool! Love the fun facts, Perceptor! But are they-” And here Rodimus gestured to your small, shivering frame, “-going to be okay?”

“I’ve acquired some information on human illness- from Swerve of all bots, if you’d believe it. When humans are ill they require copious recharge, plenty of clean, desalinated water, and, apparently, a fuel comprised of the boiled carcass of an Earth bird and various edible flora.”

“I don’t have any Earth birds! Earth has the Earth birds!” Rodimus sat up with a jolt, a bristling wave of heat rolling off of his frame that was swiftly ignored by Perceptor.

“I am certain the replicator could produce a suitable substitute. It has worked for providing nourishment thus far.”

Both bots’ attention snapped back to you when you let out a small whine, squinting under the blaring light of the overhead systems.

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry bud!” Rodimus’s voice dropped to a soft coo as he hovered his servos back around your frame. “Is it too bright in here, your optics sensitive?”

“Perhaps it would be good for the human to rest here, where they can be monitored. You have other duties aboard the ship, after all.”

“Yeah, but…” Rodimus stared as you dragged yourself across the table, curling weakly into the crook of his servo with a soft sigh. He cradled you again, letting you rest your helm upon his chassis as he supported you with both arms. “I- I think I’ll keep an optic on them. What if being in here makes them nervous? Then they can’t recharge properly.”

Perceptor let out a soft huff, pinching the bridge of his olfactory ridge between two digits. “...Whatever you insist, Rodimus. But do allow them to rest. No joyrides.”

As Rodimus looked down at your frame in his arms, for once, joyriding was the last thing on his mind.

#transformers #transformers x reader #rodimus #rodimus x reader #rodimus imagines #maccadam #g/t #my writing #mtmte

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cemeterything · 2 months

Note

the silt verses having no background music is also why it works so well i’d say. but yeah, a regular tma listener would genuinely go crazy hearing episode 38, or any val scene

yeah, the lack of background music definitely gives it a very intimately immersive, almost sensory, feeling, as though you're walking right alongside the characters as they narrate to you. tma is better at creating an atmosphere for being told spooky stories, less at creating real-time Situations that are happening to the characters as you hear them. which is fine, they're very different podcasts. if i had to name a horror podcast that excels in truly visceral, nauseating sound design though, it'd be archive 81. there's something absolutely skin-crawling about some of the noises they manage to produce. i will never get the sound of iris voss having half of her face burned off out of my head.

#although whatever sound effect they used for the rat in that podcast was laughably terrible

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slut4thebroken · 5 months

Text

Exposure Therapy pt. 12

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Jon comes home to find you crying and in a moment of weakness, you make a mistake.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, smut, pregnancy scare, post panic attack?, angst, comfort, body worship?, deep throating, fingering, vaginal sex, breeding, disgusting fluff

Words | 4.3k

Notes | I recommend grabbing a barf bag before proceeding because the fluff in this is absolutely nauseating. (Also I’m reusing gifs now I guess😭)

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 11

The front door opened softly, then shut just as quiet, and you held your breath as you listened for his footsteps. He called your name, presumably walking around the apartment to find you. Then the handle on the bathroom door jiggled, but it wouldn’t open.

“Don’t come in.” You croaked, even though it was locked anyway.

“Are you crying? What happened?” He sounded significantly more worried now, which only made you feel worse.

“Nothing, I- I’m just.. going to the bathroom.” You muttered weakly, hugging your legs tighter to your chest.

“Please let me in, little one.” You let out a quiet sob and buried your face in your knees. After a moment, you heard the door crack open and you lifted your head as he walked in, pocketing his keys. You cursed at yourself for not remembering that these kinds of door handle locks can be turned from the outside.

“What happened?” He kneeled next to you and brushed your hair away from your face to see you better as his other hand gently wiped the tears off your cheeks.

“I- I threw up.” You said through a sob, feeling your chest start to tighten and your breathing start to come in short pants again.

“That’s why you’re crying?” You knew he didn’t understand it yet.

“Jon, I threw up.” You gave him a knowing look as you bit your trembling lip, waiting for him to figure it out. His lips parted and his eyes just barely widened, so you gave him a pained smile before looking at your knees again.

“Do you still feel sick?”

“Not because of that.” You muttered, mostly sure that you were nauseous from anxiety and fear now, rather than actual morning sickness. He helped you to your feet and brought you over to the sink, instructing you to just rinse your mouth out a little so you didn’t have to keep tasting it. When you finished, he led you to the bed and pulled you onto it, letting you lay over him as he wrapped his arms around your torso.

“You can take a test, then we’ll go from there, okay?” He said softly, placing a kiss on your hair.

“What about after that? It’s not like I can exactly just walk into a clinic now.”

“I know a doctor who owes me a favor. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Jon.” The exhaustion was clear in your voice, especially now that you were laying down, in his arms.

“Regardless, I’m still sorry you had to go through that alone. I won’t leave your side until we have it figured out.”

“You don’t have to do that… I overreacted.”

“I’d hardly call having a panic attack over a very valid fear overreacting.” He scoffed teasingly, making the corners of your lips turn up a little.

“Still, if I would’ve just thought it through for a moment I wouldn’t have spiraled.”

“They’re called irrational fears for a reason, darling.”

“You keep doing that.” You muttered, cheeks burning.

“Doing what?”

“Calling me new names.”

“You like them.” He said simply, as if that explained the total switch from reluctantly calling you one name, to now using multiple, voluntarily.

“But you don’t…” The way you said it made it sound like a question, but he didn’t answer. You did, however, hear his heart rate increase slightly. “Do you?” You asked skeptically, practically able to feel the way he probably rolled his eyes.

“It’s tolerable.” He muttered and you lifted your head to look at him, finding the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

“God- you’re such a softie.” You mumbled, laying back down, biting back a grin. He scoffed in response.

“Once you’re feeling better, we’ll see if you still think I’m a softie.” The seductive tone made your stomach flutter.

“Sex doesn’t count. That’s pretend.” After a moment of silence, he seemed to realize you won this round because the only response you got was a huff.

You laid there silently, listening to his heart beating and trying to feel the warmth of his chest beneath his suit. His hand moved up to lightly play with your hair and scratch your head, making your eyes flutter shut as you smiled.

“Feels good.” You mumbled against him, eyes growing incredibly heavy all of a sudden.

“Are you tired?” He asked quietly and you hummed in agreement. “Go to sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He placed another kiss on top of your head, making your heart flutter.

“Thanks. Love you.” You mumbled, words slurring together. His hand froze and he stiffened beneath you, but it barely registered in your exhausted brain. He placed another kiss on your head, this one longer and gentler, then continued petting your hair, his heart pounding much louder in his chest now.

Despite getting a few hours of sleep, you still felt tired and drained when you woke up, more than likely because of your extremely long and intense crying session. The second you realized that all you felt were the sheets, you opened your eyes and reached out on the bed, feeling for him.

“Jon?” You mumbled, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light.

“I’m here.” You turned over and found him sitting on the bed next to you, now in sweatpants and a shirt, with some papers on his lap.

“God- I feel like shit.” You groaned, letting your head drop into the pillow.

“I left water for you on the nightstand. Do you want anything else?” Fuck— water sounds amazing right now. Keeping your head buried in the pillow, you blindly reached for the nightstand and moved your hand around until you met the bottle sitting there. You barely lifted your head enough to chug the drink.

“I hate crying, I always feel so gross and tired after.” You grumbled, setting the bottle back on the nightstand.

“You seem to be in a better mood despite that.” He noted. You laid back down on the pillow and placed a hand on his bicep, wanting to touch him, but still trying to let him work.

“I trust you and I know you’re going to help me figure it out.” You let your eyes fall shut, listening to his pen gliding across the paper.

“Are you okay with a normal test? Or would you prefer to get tested at the doctor's office.”

“Um…” You bit your lip, feeling embarrassed about your answer. False negatives on drugstore tests are not uncommon. Plus you just trust an ‘official’ test more. He seemed to pick up on what you were thinking though.

“I’ll take you.”

“Thanks.” Your heart suddenly dropped when you got hit with deja vu. “Thanks. Love you.” Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Clearing your throat, you tried to organize your thoughts and not panic. Maybe he didn’t hear it? He doesn’t seem upset so maybe he did hear it but he doesn’t care? Because he didn’t say it back… Is that why he’s not laying with you anymore and laying beside you instead?

He shushed you softly and placed his hand over yours on his arm.

“I didn’t say anything…”

“Not aloud, no.” Sometimes it’s a little unnerving how easily he can read you. Should you apologize? Take it back? He would’ve said it back by now if he felt the same way though… You tried not to tear up at the thought, but it made your chest ache and you couldn’t help it.

“I- I didn’t mean… I said that by accident. I didn’t mean to.” You said weakly. The pen on the paper suddenly stopped and you held your breath, waiting to be yelled at or left alone.

“You didn’t mean to say it or you didn’t mean it?” He asked quietly. You bit your lip and angled your face more toward the pillow because you could practically feel his eyes on your head.

“Um…” You did mean it. And you’re pretty sure he knows that. This felt like one of those moments that would change the way everything goes from here. If you tell him the truth, he either feels the same way, or he doesn’t. If you lie, he’ll either be relieved or disappointed. You’re not sure which option is more worth the risk.

“It’s okay if you didn’t mean it.” What the fuck does that mean?

“Did you want me to mean it?” He just paused, then sighed quietly at your response. He was silent for so long that you could practically hear your heart breaking. “Let’s just- forget about it. Pretend it never happened… I’m sorry for saying it in the first place, I shouldn’t have.” Taking in a shaky breath, you realized that your eyes were completely blurry with tears that were on the verge of falling any second now. You quickly sat up and started moving toward the edge of the bed to get up and go to the bathroom, but he stopped you with a hand on your wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“…The bathroom?” Your voice trembled embarrassingly, making you feel worse about all of this. When you tried pulling away, his grip tightened, but not enough to actually hurt you.

“Yes.” He said, voice strained.

“What?”

“I… I want you to have meant it.”

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,”

“I’m not.” He said firmly, cutting you off. “I- I… feel the same.” You turned back around and he looked down once he met your gaze. You’ve never heard him stumble over his words like this.

“Are you fucking with me?” Your tone was harsher now, a warning. If he was lying or making fun of you… you’re not afraid to go find your wristband with his toxin and use it on him.

“Do you really think I would do that?” He scoffed in what might’ve been amusement.

“Answer me.”

“No, I’m not.” He sighed. “I just— Don’t expect me to be able to say it. I haven’t since I was a child.” The thought made you frown. He probably didn’t say it to his family as a child based on what he told you, but he’s never had anyone in his adult life that he felt that way about?

“You’ve never had any girlfriends or anything?” You asked, trying to get rid of your frown so he didn’t take it the wrong way.

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t very popular with women. I’m still not.” Even though part of you can believe that, another part is just completely surprised that he hasn’t had one girlfriend.

“How?? You’re smart and kinky and funny and kind and pretty and you have fluffy hair. How has no one been interested?” His cheeks turned pink and he looked away from you again.

“Most people don’t agree with my… line of work.”

“I see… Well that’s their loss.” You shrugged, making the corners of his lips turn up.

“You think I’m pretty?” He suddenly asked, making you smile.

“I think you’re very pretty.” You crawled toward him and moved the papers away so you could sit on his lap, his hands lightly holding your hips. “Your lips are so pink and soft,” You said quietly, cupping his cheek and trailing your thumb over them, “and I don’t even know how it’s possible to have bone structure like this.” You softly trailed your fingers over his cheekbones, staring at them in awe and feeling how warm his cheeks were getting. “And you have freckles. They’re really faint, but I like them a lot.” You brushed your fingers across his nose and cheeks, following the path of freckles.

“Your eyes are pretty too.” You gently removed his glasses and set them on top of the papers. “Mesmerizing.” You muttered, absentmindedly, as your gaze shifted between his eyes. He looked away from you, snapping you out of the trance you were in.

“Why do you think I had such a big crush on you after we first met?” You chuckled, making him look at you again.

“You did?”

“Yes, you dork. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing. You made me so nervous.” Now it was your turn to blush a little.

“I thought you were just nervous because of the.. usual topic of our discussions.”

“It was a bit of both.” There was a lull in the conversation, so you decided to change the subject. “You know what else I think is pretty?” He didn’t give you a verbal response, trying to seem nonchalant about it. Placing your hands on his chest, you snaked them down his stomach to his pants, teasing the waistband. “Your cock.” You smirked, carefully studying his reaction. Which was worth it because for half a second, he was flustered and surprised before he schooled his face into a more neutral expression.

“How on earth can that be pretty?” He scoffed, cheeks glowing red now.

“You tell me, doctor.” You said teasingly. His hands started dragging down your thighs, then back up to your hips. “How about I compliment it properly, hm?” You moved down to sit over his thighs and grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, waiting for him to stop you, but he never did. So you kept going, only pulling them down to his mid thigh.

It didn’t take long for you to stroke him to full hardness as you laid on your stomach between his legs. When you kissed the tip of his cock and licked up the bead of precum, he let out a shaky breath and placed a gentle hand on the back of your head.

“You get so pink,” you said quietly, mouthing at the head of his cock, “and there’s this vein down here,” you licked a long stripe up the bottom of his cock, over the vein, “it’s so fucking hot.” You whispered. Glancing up at him, you noticed that his cheeks were even more red now as he stared down at you in almost awe.

Wanting to tease him, you kissed down his cock until you reached his balls and started licking and kissing them gently. Your hand was still holding his cock, but it was unmoving. When his hips bucked, you couldn’t help but smirk against him.

“Be patient, Jon.” You reprimanded softly.

“Stop being a tease.” He said through a breath, making you pull away with a pout.

“Jonny, please just let me take my time. Haven’t had you in my mouth in so long.” You whined, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. He cursed under his breath and let his head fall back until it hit the headboard quietly.

“Stop calling me that.” The weak demand was the only protest you got, so you leaned back down to continue.

“But I like calling you Jonny. Makes your face so red.” You giggled quietly, barely pulling away to speak. As you mouthed at his balls, he threaded his fingers through your hair and lightly grabbed it, not moving you at all though.

“Red from annoyance maybe.” He grumbled, making you smile. When you sucked one of his balls in your mouth, his breath caught in his throat and his grip tightened just the slightest amount. You released his cock, letting it rest on his stomach, and he huffed as the barest amount of stimulation went to no stimulation. You pulled off with a wet pop and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Are you sure, Jonny?” You asked innocently, but your grin turned outright devious when his cock twitched on his stomach. He rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“That means nothing.” He muttered, gently pushing your head back down. You decided to give him a break from the teasing and focus on the task at hand. Sucking the other one in your mouth, you picked up his cock and stroked slowly, forcing a shaky breath out of him as he ran his fingers through your hair, letting you have full control. If he keeps acting like this, you’re going to get on a total power trip— especially after the last time you had sex. Maybe not a dominant power trip, but a power trip nonetheless.

You continued licking and kissing and sucking, all while slowly stroking him and savoring his soft sounds. After another moment, you decided to kiss back up his cock until you reached the tip. When you licked the bead of precum, he cursed under his breath and you smiled to yourself, licking the head of his cock again just to tease him.

“C’mon.” He urged quietly, not yet forcing you though. When you held the base of his cock and mouthed at the tip, he all but whined as he squirmed under you. “Please, little one.” You barely heard it, but you knew you didn’t hallucinate it.

“You’re being so patient, Jonny.” You said proudly, making his cock jump in your hand. “I promise I’ll start soon, I just wanna enjoy this first.” He let out a quiet sigh when you continued licking and sucking on the tip, never going any lower.

“Baby, please.” He whined, making you moan around him. Something about that pet name is just different than the others and you couldn’t help but give in.

“Okay, Jonny.” You gave him a small smile before leaning back down and wrapping your lips around him, immediately taking him half way. Your hand stayed at the base as you bobbed up and down.

“Fuck… Good girl.” He said through a breath. His fingers threaded through your hair again, but he didn’t take control yet. When your hand slipped down to cup his balls and you took him deeper in your mouth, he let out a choked moan as his hips flinched up, making you gag. He didn’t verbally apologize, he just brought his other hand up to gently pet your head as you continued.

You took him deeper and deeper each time until his cock was hitting the back of your mouth. When you reached up and put your hand on top of the one he had in your hair, pushing down on it, he cursed under his breath, but complied eagerly. His cock breached your throat barrier and you choked as he let out a low groan.

“So fucking good.” He groaned and if you were able to make any sounds, you would’ve whined at the praise. He pulled you off and let you catch your breath. While you panted, you stroked his cock, looking up at him and he cursed under his breath at the sight of you, then moved you back onto his cock.

He fucked your throat slowly, but pushed you all the way down everytime, making you gag as saliva and tears started building up. When he pushed you down and held you there, you tried to control your gag reflex so you could stay like this, but you weren’t successful. You couldn’t pull off so you placed your hands on his thighs and tried harder, but he just grabbed your hand in his free one and held it, letting you squeeze to ground yourself.

He removed the pressure and you shot up with a gasp, trying to calm down quickly so you could keep going. His thumb was rubbing back and forth on your hand, soothing you while simultaneously making your stomach flutter.

“Come up here, little one.” He said softly, making you frown.

“But ‘m not done.” You pouted, making the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile.

“I know, darling, but I don’t want to come in your mouth.” His tone was far too sweet for the words that left his mouth. You glanced at his cock with a blush, then looked back up at him and nodded.

“Okay.” You got up on your knees and started pushing his shirt up, making him stiffen a little. When you reached his chest, you told him to take it off and he obeyed. Instead of settling on his lap, you stayed between his legs and snaked your hands back down his torso. The scars littering his body made you frown, especially now that you knew where most of them were from. When you leaned down to kiss one, his body went completely stiff under you, making you pause.

“What are you doing?” His tone was guarded and a little harsh, and you faltered.

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t have to.” You said quietly, pulling away more to look up at him. He stared down at you with apprehension, looking like he was having an internal battle in his mind about what he wanted. Even after he relaxed a little, you still waited, only moving when he gave you a small nod.

You just barely pressed your lips to the raised skin, still worried you were making him uncomfortable. When he didn’t go stiff or push you away, you continued. You kissed most of the scars on his stomach, going up to his chest. You reached the highest one, just below his collar bone, and finally straddled his legs. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you leaned down to kiss him and his hands settled on your hips.

One of his hands snaked over your stomach and down until he reached your underwear. He slipped his hand inside and cursed under his breath at your obvious arousal. When he started rubbing slow circles on your clit, you whined into the kiss and squirmed on his lap.

“Fuck me.” You whispered, making his grip tighten on your hip.

“You’re not ready yet.” He replied, just as quietly, then started trailing kisses over your jaw and down to your neck to darken the fading bruises.

“Please, Jonny… s’too empty.” You whimpered, grinding against his hand.

“Soon, little one.” You huffed and he bit down on your skin, making you wince, but grind harder against him. He slipped your shirt over your head, then leaned forward, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking gently.

“Please— ‘m ready…” You whined. All he did was switch to the other nipple to give it the same treatment. When he finally pulled back and removed his hand, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling lightly. He suddenly grabbed your panties with both hands and ripped them clean off your body, making you gasp out a moan.

“I liked those…” You whined, pouting.

“I’ll buy you more.” He didn’t actually roll his eyes, but his tone made it seem like he was about to. When he lined his cock up with your entrance, your breath caught in your throat and you waited anxiously. “Relax.” He whispered, pulling you down to kiss you again. Your body obeyed and as soon as he felt your muscles loosen up, he pulled you down onto him, making you both moan into the kiss. It was still a little tight, and there was a faint burning sensation, but it satisfied every part of you that was needing to feel full.

He started pulling your hips forward and back, rocking you against him slowly until you picked up the pace on your own. When he pulled away from the kiss, you whined, but he ignored you and just brushed your hair out of your face, then cupped your cheek.

“Say it again.” He said through a breath, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“What?”

“Say it. Please.” His eyes bored into yours with an almost desperate look that you weren’t used to, that’s when it finally clicked. You stared down at him, trying to ignore the overwhelming feeling of his cock inside you and focus on getting the words out, but it was hard. Even though you’re the more vulnerable one in this relationship, you’re still not used to it.

“I—” You choked out, unable to finish.

“Please, little one.” He whispered, squeezing your hip a little harder. So you took a deep breath and tried again.

“I love you,” The words were still foreign on your tongue. He let out a shaky breath and pulled you back down into a kiss, making you moan at the suddenness.

“Again.” He mumbled against your lips.

“I love you.” Your movements were growing more eager and he moved his hand down to rub your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. “I love you, Jon.” He had to separate from the kiss as he panted, but he kept his forehead pressed to yours.

“I—” He started, making your heart skip a beat. But his breathing quickly grew more labored and you could tell it was out of anxiety rather than arousal.

“I know. You don’t have to say it yet.” You whispered, even though your entire being was craving the opposite. He didn’t seem convinced that that was enough, so you added, “I love you too.”

Too.

Because he loves you.

He loves you and you love him too.

Your orgasm hit you suddenly and you moaned and whined as you writhed in his lap. His eyes fluttered shut and his grip got even tighter on your hip as his release crashed over him. Through the almost intense orgasm, you could feel hot come painting your walls, adding to your already overwhelming pleasure. When it finally passed and you were both panting, he pushed your hair that had fallen forward out of your face and cupped your cheek again, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Do you really mean it?” He asked quietly, looking up at you nervously. You moved your hands from his hair to the sides of his head and held him there gently, not letting him look away.

“Yes. More than anything.” You whispered, watching his eyes flutter as he swallowed thickly. “Do you really mean it?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate this time.

Part 13

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greelin · 4 months

Text

do have a potent moment in my mind (probably late act 1? idk) where my bard is off bathing in the river late at night (which he does. always by himself. for a multitude of reasons) and singing to himself (also happens. all the time. habit) and it’s. not THAT loud, ever, not really. but of course astarion is off hunting because he’s bored (antsy) and the hunger never really ceases but he stumbles across him post-kill. freezes. stands there a safe distance away but close enough to hear him and get caught off-guard. then he scoffs. tries to be all “Tch. Of course the fool is out here, alone, in the dark, humming a merry little tune. Blissfully unaware of the world around him. How fickle. Naive. The lack of stealth and even a remote sense of self-preservation is astounding. Someone could hear him from a mile away and sidle up to slit his throat and he’d never even know until the blade has already finished its journey.” to himself while he feels an almost nauseating amount of fondness start to take hold. transfixed by the sound of his voice. absolutely FUMING because it’s endearing and frustrating in equal measure. teehee

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ghouljams · 6 months

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can the fae!boys use the taps in ways for like fully good intent like lets say if libeling was freaked and stressed out of her mind and well overworked just one tap and shes putty in königs arms to take care of- or the panic attack with her fic got me thinking if she was in one he could just go tap

Taps can absolutely be used with good intent. This is where I say that magic in this au cannot be good or evil, it's all in how you use it. Blessings and curses are two sides of the same coin: a spell for a baby might be a blessing for one and a curse for another, but at the end of the day it's the same magic. But yeah let's have someone other than the kinksters use the tap for good vibes.

You're completely run down, drained of everything that isn't numbers and money or worries about numbers and money. You should call your accountant. Instead you're sitting at your little kitchen table with receipts and month income reports. You're pretty sure you're turning a profit. You might not be. Who knows? Not you.

You haven't had a day off in... fuck when was the last time you took a day off? Maybe two, three(?), months ago? When you got dragged to that Renn Faire? That sounds about right. Today doesn't count. End of the quarter accounting doesn't count as a day off even if you had to close the shop.

König seems restless. He's been pacing around the flat with nothing to occupy him all day. You've snapped at him a couple times, sent him outside or to the shops just for a moment's piece. You rub your eyes with the heel of your hand, tapping you pencil against your calculator as you stare down the list you've been making on spare notebook paper. You're starting to get a migraine. The lights are too brightly haloed, each ambient noise too loud against your skin, you can feel your bones and it's nauseating.

You sit back in your chair and press your hands to your face, giving yourself a moment's darkness as you try to weigh Advil against just going to bed. When you finally slide your hands from your face you're staring up at König, his concern radiating off of him, or maybe he's just blocking your overhead light.

"Are you sick meine liebe?" he asks, leaning to press the back of his hand against your forehead. He takes it back with a frown, fingers hovering close.

"No, I'm just-" You shake your head, sit forward again to keep working, König's hand covers your eyes. You sigh and lean against the gentle touch, "I'm just tired König."

"Everything will still be there in the morning Liebling, come to bed." His thumb rubs at your forehead, soothing the worried creases.

"I'll just keep thinking about it," You let out another sigh, press your hands against König's, press his warmth and darkness into your tired eyes. You feel a childish whine building behind your ribs, your head hurts and you don't want to think anymore. You think- you think Love talked about Ghost doing something about that. God the last thing you want is to engage with anything similar to her reckless behavior, but the thump of a migraine against your skull is highly convincing.

"Can you-" The only experience you have with König's magic is what he gives you during sex, you don't really know what to ask for. You don't really know what to call what you want. Good fucking God you hate asking for help. König stays quiet, lets you sort through your thoughts without his interjection. "Can you make me stop thinking?" You ask, the migraine has started migrating towards nausea and the threat of being curled over the toilet overpowers your self sufficiency.

"You would put yourself in my care?" His voice is so soft, so careful and almost hopeful. You don't really know how not thinking would need care, but you nod against his hand. König takes a breath, his pointer finger raising to tap your forehead lightly.

Everything about you drops as you sag forward. All of the building pain is gone in an instant as König's magic sweeps through you, pushing every thought from your head. It settles like a blanket over your mind, hushing your sense of self and independence, and leaving you at König's mercy.

It's dark. No. There's something covering your eyes. A very careful movement, a hand sliding off your line of sight to cup your face and tip your head back. You're kissed so sweetly, gentle pressure and soft lips against your own. König, your sluggish brain supplies. König's magic seems eager to pick and choose what you know. Just the important things, his kiss tells you.

He pulls away with a low purr. You watch the twitch of his gaze, transfixed by the way he searches your eyes. He takes a breath and when he exhales it blows over you like a mist. Your eyes lid, then close, and you threaten to tip over again. Everything is heavy and soft. His hands slide under your arms, lifting you out of your uncomfortable seat.

"Up Schatz," König coaxes you to stand, helps you move your fuzzy, floaty, limbs, "There you go." You hardly stand from your chair before König's hand is pressing between your shoulders, tipping you forward at the waist to rest your hands against the table and scatter papers. His hands are big on your hips, holding you up as he drops to his knees behind you. "Let me help you," His voice is so husky, you hum and drop your head forward. It feels too heavy to keep holding up.

But it's so blissfully quiet, your thoughts silent and still as a lake. Any thought that slips through König's filter falls like sand through your fingers. Too slick to hold onto, not that you want to. No, this is good. Somewhere between sleeping and wakefulness, your body tingly and warm, just at the edge of a dream. You feel so peaceful. König drags your pants down. You feel kept. You feel like you're forgetting something.

"Am I supposed to be doing something?" You ask König, he'll know. He pauses, his hands squeezing your ass appreciatively.

"No, I'm going to eat you, and then you're going to bed." He tells you. You hum, that sounds nice. "Alles gut?"

"Yeah, good." You pull the syllables out into a low hum as his tongue licks a flat stripe over your slit. You rock back against his hold when he repeats the motion, slicking you with long teasing strokes. His tongue is so strange, twisting and circling against your clit, between your folds. Inhuman, entirely inhuman. The thought hums pleasantly in your veins, stirring heat alongside his long thick tongue.

It's hot and wet, his breath ghosting over you as he laps at your cunt making you shiver with need. Each slick drag rolls back and forth as his fingers squeeze your hips, your ass, every inch of softness appreciated for what it is. You. König closes his lips around your clit and sucks, his tongue fluttering against the sensitive nub, making heat race through you. You stomach jumps, your breath hitches, you press your hands against the table to try and press back against him. His hands hold you firmly in place as pleasure leaps up your spine.

The clench of your needy cunt catches his attention, and he shift to wiggle his tongue into the hole. He slurps greedily as you drip into his mouth, one of his hands leaving your hip to thumb your clit, coaxing you to clench on his tongue and whine. One of his claws catches your clit and you jerk, only for the ones on your hip to dig in further. Your breath stutters feeling the firm pressure of skin at its breaking point, the hot pinpricks of beading blood.

You freeze, grip the scattered papers under your hands with unsteady fists. If you focus past the slick liquid pleasure he's licking into you, you can feel the flat dangerous press of teeth just behind his lips. You shiver, his tongue twisting inside of you to push against your gummy walls, stroking alongside the fingers at your clit. He's more monster than man, and you're reminded how much you love that when he growls against your cunt.

"More," You beg, pressing back against his mouth. He pulls back and his hand leaves your hip, hardly giving your knees time to buckle before it smacks your ass. You jolt forward, your thighs hitting the edge of the table as quickly as he's holding your hip to pull you back onto his tongue.

"Such a greedy thing liebchen, remember your manners," He spits on your cunt, watches his saliva drip down with the rest of your slick before gathering it on his tongue.

"Please," You mumble, letting the word drop from your lips as he licks you. The hot roll of his tongue before his mouth closes over you, before he sucks at your slick skin, makes your back arch. His hum reverberates through you, and you let your eyes roll. König pinches your clit meanly, before soothing the ache with his tongue, his fingers moving to press into your hole.

He lets you rock back against them. The two thick digits rough with callouses, crook to press against your spongy sweet spot, claws all but forgotten as he strokes your soft inner walls. Each gentle thrust of his fingers drags a new coil of heat through you, tightens the feeling deep in your stomach. His tongue coaxes it tighter, easing you towards a hard release.

"Don't tell me I made you so stupid you forgot how to cum Schatzi," He murmurs, pressing sucking kisses to your clit. You don't think so, but you certainly feel like you're missing something. Every touch of him inches you a bit higher, winds your muscles a little tenser, until you don't think you can take any more.

His grip on your hip loosens as his hand slides up under your shirt. König's fingers spread wide under the fabric, hooking themselves in the strands between you with practiced ease. They grip, hard, and rip you forward to collapse against the table, all your tethers bursting into full technicolor. Everything inside of you breaks and you feel your orgasm crash into you.

"There you go, there you go," He groans, fingers thrusting a little faster into your cunt, hitting your sweet spot a little harder as you squirt against his mouth. Every muscle firing to shake and shudder as you collapse forward onto the table, letting König work you through your orgasm. Your legs shake, hips jerking as he keeps fucking you, keeps sucking at your clit, overstimulating you when you don't have the energy to tell him not to. You whine high and tight in your throat, feel another spring snap and bring the shivers back in full. It hurts so good. He drinks you down so nicely.

You don't know if your really standing as much as König's letting you sit on his face. Dimly you think it doesn't matter. You said you'd put yourself in his care, and you don't regret it. You're tingling and warm, wrung out. He's gentle moving you, you hardly feel it when he stands, when he helps you pull your shirt over your head so he can pick you up.

You settle against him, his hand holding you up as your arms drape over his shoulders. You close your eyes and enjoy the darkness of it, the calm peace in your mind. The sink turns on as you nod off in König's grip. The rush of water is almost a welcome sound, but does nothing to eclipse the soft purr that rumbles from your partner. He moves and you lose track of where you are in space in favor of letting his purring pull you further under his spell.

He settles you in bed, just like he promised. A warm washcloth wipes between your legs, cleaning you up as gently as König can manage before he's crawling onto the bed behind you, and tugging the covers up. He murmurs something your brain is too sluggish to hold onto, and kisses the top of your head. You're tugged snugly back against his chest, his arms oh-so tightly wrapped around you. Comfortably held, your body wastes no time dragging you down into sleep.

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yanderu-deredere · 1 year

Text

swallow.

★ you don't know what the hell you drank last night but whatever it was, you needed to stay away from it forever. and you needed to get out of here. even if last night was the most perfect night in the world.

a/n: here's that next part that i promised ya'll and it's full of lore and i really enjoyed it a lot! it's definitely something and i hope you guys enjoy it! the next and last part will be out tomorrow so hope you guys are excited for that

like always, heed the warnings and hope you like it! not as smutty as the usual content! might actually be a bit sad...

part one (bite.) ★ part two ★ (chew.) ★ extras (bite and chew.) ★ extras (taste) ★ part three ★ (here) ★ part four (digest.)

pairing: poly werewolves x male reader word count: 2544

warning: bottom reader with male parts and pronoun, no explicit sexual stuff but allusions to what happened in the previous chapter

It felt like you woke up slowly and then all at once; you were vaguely aware of the things around you like the blanket over you, the body against you, the clothes on you, and then, suddenly, it hit you like a truck.

You bolted upright, heart palpitating in your chest, your eyes wide and your breaths coming in short soft spirts.

Then, you were looking behind you, still panicked, hoping everything last night was some sort of fever dream.

Beside you, on the couch, was Leonard, his fluffy hair a messy nest this early in the morning. His glasses were off, probably tucked safely away somewhere. He was yawning and rubbing at his eyes, looking at you all dazed and confused.

Oh, no.

"Wh-Wh-- Leo." You stuttered out before cupping your forehead, your head feeling like it was spinning "Please, tell me, last night--"

"You didn't fuck me within an inch of my life? No can do." Leonard didn't even give it to you slow and soft.

You let out a sound like a dying cat.

"What, don't tell me I was wrong about you." Leonard crossed his arms, looking angry at the fact that you were looking a little anxious "You said you were into guys."

"I'm into guys!" You snapped a little, your panic rising to something you couldn't control "I just-- I have a girlfriend! I hadn't even broken up with her yet! I cheated on her!"

Leonard looked a bit off-put by how you spoke to him; understandable seeing as your tone wasn't exactly friendly.

You wanted to apologise because it wasn't entirely his fault. It took two to cheat and, though he pushed you, you were the one that ended up caving eventually.

Before you could apologise, however, he just huffed and threw a pillow into your lap "Oh yeah, stellar girlfriend you have there! She hasn't even messaged you about where you are and she left you at the bonfire!"

You stopped for a second, confused, your anger dissipating as a nauseating feeling appeared in your stomach "How do you know that?"

Leonard seemed to realise that he made a mistake because his anger dissipated immediately too, replaced with an embarrassed expression "I-I--"

"I'm sorry he went through your phone."

Your head snapped back and you looked to see it was Mel with a tray in his hand. Behind him and to the side was Isamu with a similar tray in his hands too.

"Mel! L-Look, I-I didn't mean to!" Leonard snapped, turning his body away from you "I was just charging your phone and it turned on! There weren't any notifications so I looked through it and checked!"

"What kind of a pathetic girlfriend doesn't even text her boyfriend after he's been gone an entire night?" He continued, shaking his head, his tone absolutely disgusted.

"We wouldn't treat you like that." Leonard added, that disgust made way for a more sheepish expression as he finally glanced at you, hoping you would pick up what he was putting down.

You could, if you wanted to and, honestly, a part of you did. But you were scared to. So, instead, your eyes flickered to Mel, hoping he'd help you out.

Mel was just sternly looking at Leonard.

"Here, we made breakfast." Mel pushed the coffee table close with his shin before placing the trays down, Isamu placing his tray down right after.

Then, Isamu sat on the floor while Mel sat on the other side of you, the two of them looking at you expectantly, like they were excited for you to praise them.

The two trays contained four plates of waffles, each with butter. There was also a little thing for maple syrup and honey as well as a glass of orange and apple juice for each of you.

Then, if that wasn't enough, there were some eggs on the plates too and some bacon. It was a whole buffet, just for you. The cheater. The person who was going to leave them and go crawling back to your girlfriend.

You immediately felt bad "This is too much--"

"It's not too much! Especially after last night!" Isamu quickly interrupted you as he sat beside you, small smile on his face.

You felt your heart break a little bit in your chest but you knew you had to nip this in the bud or else you'd just end up leading them all on.

"I'm sorry, but last night-- I was drunk, and it was a mistake--"

"A mistake!" Leonard stood, his expression aghast like you'd just told him you murdered his parents "It wasn't a mistake! How could you-- Why would you--"

Mel held up a hand and Leonard immediately shut up but you could see that there were tears in his eyes that he was desperately holding back.

"I can see that there's some communication issues going on, okay, so let me just clear the air." Mel sighed, his hand still up like, if he put it down, Leonard would immediately pounce "He didn't mean it was a mistake like that, Leo, you know that."

"He just feels really guilty about cheating with his girlfriend, right?" Mel turned to you, that polite smile on his face not exactly reaching his eyes "If you didn't have a girlfriend right now, you would stay with us, wouldn't you?"

You gulped, your mouth suddenly feeling a little dry. You took a second to think about it. In all honesty? You nodded, cheeks feeling suddenly a little hot.

"You all are really great and I had a great time. It was really fun talking with you guys and drinking with you guys and the-- uhmmm--" Your voice cracked as you got even more flustered "The sex was really great, I swear!"

Mel grinned, that brightness finally reaching his eyes. He reached over and clapped a hand on the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin "Our darling here is just loyal to a fault, is all. Can we really blame him for that?"

Darling. You flushed even hotter at the nickname.

Like all the hot air was taken out of him, Leonard deflated, his shoulders sagging as he sighed "Whatever. Your girlfriend doesn't deserve it."

"You're right, Leo." Mel's hand on your neck fell and he used it to grab something. You realised it was your phone because he plopped it in your lap. "That's why he's going to break up with her right now."

You felt like ice water was dumped all over you.

"D-Du-Dump her? Right now?" You stuttered out as you looked to Mel, eyes wide and shaking fingers slowly taking hold of your phone.

You could see Isamu looking at you hopefully and Leonard smirking victoriously at you from the corners of your eye but all you could do was stare at Mel.

There was that polite smile again, the one that he used to cover up something much darker. It showed in his eyes; it was something predatorial, something that made you feel like a pinned insect, something that made you feel like you were in danger.

"I-I can't just break up with her." Your brain worked to find excuse after excuse, your instincts screaming at you to get out and run "I-I'd at least like to break up with her in person. She deserves that much."

Then, for some reason, you broke his gaze and looked down at your lap. When Mel sighed, you knew it had been a mistake to look away.

Instead of replying, Mel cupped your chin, his thumb and forefinger digging into your cheek a little bit. He tilted your head up so you were looking at him again and that polite smile that you were so wary of was gone.

Instead, it was replaced with that dark look he had that night, when he had Isamu in his lap. You felt less like an insect and more like a small rabbit surrounded by a bunch of wolves.

A bunch of hungry rabid wolves that wanted nothing but to chase you.

"You know we can't do that." Mel let the words out slowly, like he was speaking to an idiot or, perhaps, like it was hard for him to say "We can't let you leave for right now, darling."

"Wh-Why not?" You felt a zing of fear crawl up your spine as you tried to pull your face away from his hand. Instead of really succeeding, his grip on you just got harder.

"You have to understand that we just want what's best for you, darling. You understand that, don't you?" Mel spoke softly, soothingly, but the words weren't effective when he looked at you like that.

Like he could eat you without regret.

But, still, you tried your hardest to remember him yesterday, the way he took care of you and housed you. So, you nodded.

When you did, he let go of your chin and pulled you in by your waist, perching you on his lap.

As soon as he did that, Leonard and Isamu crowded close, the expressions on their faces akin to ravenous wolves.

It was like a trigger had been pulled and now there was something to how they were acting. You didn't understand it very well but you felt both scared and safe trapped in between all three of them.

"Why don't I explain while Sam and Leo feed you, hmmm, puppy?" Mel nosed behind your ear, his breath warm and causing your ears to turn hot.

You didn't think you had any say in it but you nodded for show anyway.

Mel looked thankful for that at least.

You thought that, when he said feed you, he meant like with a fork or something, However, Isamu and Leonard took turns ripping bite sized pieces off of the waffles and soaking them in syrup to feed you. With their hands.

You accepted them, even going so far as to lick their fingers feebly, since you felt like you didn't have much of a choice. And it seemed to placate all three of them too.

They didn't look as wolfish as before, that was for sure.

"You might not believe me but please keep your mind open." Mel sighed as if he'd had this conversation one too many times before "You see, the reason we can't let you leave is because... we're werewolves."

You stiffened in his lap. And not in the fun way.

Now, your previous wolfish comparisons felt like jokes.

Leonard snickered at your reaction, obviously amused before stuffing another piece of a waffle accompanied by a small piece of bacon into your mouth.

Mel was less amused and pressed a kiss to your temple "I know it's-- It's not exactly easy to believe. But, it's true. We're werewolves and you're our mate."

"It's why you can't leave. We won't be able to control ourselves if you try to leave." Mel continued to explain, his hand flexing around your waist as if just the thought of it made him angry or scared or something.

"It's worse for Leo. He's not had that much training." Mel hesitantly let go of your waist to run a hand through Leonard's blonde fluffy hair "His parents paraded him around in a circus. It took him a long time to find us. He hasn't had much time to learn control."

"So, what, the wolf--"

"No, not the wolf. Us." Mel immediately dismissed that thought "I know, the media promotes this idea that the wolf and the human are separate but it's not-- we're not two separate beings in one brain. We're werewolves. We're one thing."

"It's just that, when we shift, it's like being inebriated, you know? We can't control ourselves." Mel sighed, pressing his cheek against your temple "It becomes all instinct to try and help our shifted bodies to survive."

You had enough of this. You know you you said you'd keep your mind open but this was ridiculous.

Still, you supposed you owed them for housing you for a night and for, you know, hopefully eventually leading you out of the forest.

So, you gave them the benefit of your doubt "Can I see?"

It was their turn to stiffen and stare at you with shock.

"What, you seriously didn't think you'd tell me about werewolves and I wouldn't ask to see?" You huffed, crossing your arms and looking at them like they were the crazy ones.

Mel nodded like 'yeah, that made sense' but, when he looked to Isamu, the man shrunk back and shook his head like Mel was volunteering him for the War or something.

"N-No way! No way! I-I can't! I can't!" Isamu stuttered out, the panic obvious in his voice "I can't control it, not around him!"

"Well, Leonard definitely can't... You have better control--" Mel moved his hand to cup the back of Isamu's neck but Isamu moved away, shocking both you and Mel.

Leonard looked like you pissed in his cereal "That's not true! I could totally control myself!"

Mel shook his head, sigh ragged "No, you're going to end up hurting someone--"

You turned in Mel's lap and looked up at him "Why don't you do it?"

Isamu and Leonard audibly gasped and Mel looked at you like you'd suggested he cut off his dick or something. The grimace on his face would've been hilarious if it weren't for the fact that it was confusing.

"I'm-- It's not the same for me. I'm not like Sam and Leo." Mel tried to pull you back against him but you resisted, obviously displeased. "Darling, I don't want you to see me like that."

When they all looked at you like you were the crazy one, you just let out a loud noise of frustration "You get why I'm angry, right? You're telling me all of this unbelievable stuff and then, when I ask you to prove it, you won't!"

"You just keep making up excuses why you can't prove it! How can I believe you then?" You finally fought your way out of Mel's grasp, your phone in your hand as you stood, your face hot but this time with anger.

You were tired of being left to their whims! You were tired of letting them decide everything. You were tired of being scared of Mel, of being intimidated by how beefy and sexy they were.

"I'm sorry, but I just-- I think you're crazy!" You screamed, stomping your foot as a show that you were putting your foot down.

Mel looked at you sadly, like you were about to make the worst mistake of your life "Please, darling, don't."

Part of you felt like you were. The part of you that enjoyed them doting on you, that enjoyed their attention and their affection, that enjoyed the fantasy they offered you, wanted to believe them.

But the other part of you overtook that. The other part of you knew that these three were just crazy and you needed to wake up from this weird dream.

"If you won't help me find my way out of the forest, I'll just find my way out! Fucking keep playing this weird freak fantasy of yours for all I care." You stomped to the door "I need to get to my girlfriend."

Freak. Fantasy. Girlfriend.

Oh, no.

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #oc x reader #male oc #male werewolf x reader #werewolf oc x reader #werewolf x reader #chaptered #melchior #isamu #leonard

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