#but instead having him silently observe what's happening around him and mentally commentate on it

[666writingcafe]

The Adventure Begins

Levi's overacting. Again. The only reason it wasn't obvious during the school play was because Simeon kept him reined in. Levi gets excited quite easily, and it causes him to get lost in whatever role he's playing.

I'll have to ask Simeon, but I don't think he intended the Lord of Shadow to act so...dramatically? badly? I don't know how to describe it, really. It just isn't very good.

Unlike MC. I'm not sure why I like their acting better, especially since they're currently matching Levi's energy. Maybe it's because they're intentionally hamming it up. They did mumble an apology to me before they started talking to him, after all, so they must know that Levi's acting isn't the best.

Satan's isn't much better, either. He's not as over-the-top as Levi, but I don't find him convincing as the "villain" of this story. If anything, he'd make a good anti-hero, but Solomon probably didn't want to make things too complicated.

Solomon's not a very good author.

However, I'm choosing to keep all this to myself, because the point of all this is to help MC get their first star. Lucifer, on the other hand, is having a hard time suspending his disbelief. So, I understand why MC told him to shut up. I just hope they're prepared to get their ass handed to them once Lucifer's back to normal size, because while he has a soft spot for MC, he doesn't like being silenced. Messes with his pride.

Speaking of which...the stars.

They represent the seven virtues, which are direct opposites of our sins. For me, that virtue is temperance. Solomon probably knows this, but he may not realize the full extent of my relationship with temperance.

Once upon a time, I was able to control myself and my urges. Until I wasn't. For my brothers, their sin was triggered by specific events; that wasn't the case for me. It just...happened. And I didn't realize it until it was too late.

Now, it's what most people know me for. They think I'm a meathead that only thinks about food. Even my brothers.

Which isn't fair.

Why are they allowed to have complex personalities, but not me? Why can they participate in mentally stimulating activities, while I'm cast off to the side and dismissed as too dumb to understand any of it? It's never made sense to me.

I think that's part of why I like MC so much. They're the first person in a really, really long time that sees me beyond my sin. They actually listen to what I have to say and seem to value my opinion, even if it's not related to food or sports.

Yet somehow, deep inside, I don't fully trust them. I think it's coming from my subconscious. Somewhere in there lives a hurt angel that feels like everyone he cares about will die and leave him behind. And in a way, it's true.

Lilith may have been the only person in our little family that actually lost their life, but my brothers barely resemble what they were in the Celestial Realm. It's weird. They wear the same faces, but they're completely different people. Sometimes, I feel like they're complete strangers, or perhaps taken over by aliens.

Oddly, the one person I can rely on to stay the same is Satan. Then again, he didn't have his own form until we arrived in the Devildom, so this version of him is all I've ever known.

"Beel?"

Shit.

I missed a lot, didn't I?

"Are you okay? You seem out of it."

"I could say the same to you." Why is that the first thing that comes out of my mouth? I sound like a jerk.

MC merely sighs as they sit next to me on the...bed? I take a proper look at my surroundings and realize that we're in a hotel room of some kind. Lucifer appears to be sleeping on the nightstand, using tissues as both pillow and blanket.

"Wanna go first, or shall I?" Interesting question. They don't seem upset at me.

"Your call." MC rests their head on my shoulder.

"Simeon needs my help making an important decision." Their tone indicates something serious.

"With what?" MC sighs again.

"His future." Huh? Why would an angel need a human's help with that? I know that the two of them are fairly close, but still.

"But that's neither here nor there," they quickly add, sighing. "It's not like I can do anything about it now." They glance up at me. "What's on your mind?"

"My past."

"As an angel?" I nod.

"Back then, the only thing that mattered to people was that I was strong. I wanted to be useful, so I decided to become a soldier and fight for the Celestial Realm. Problem was, I had trouble controlling my powers."

"Like I did before receiving the Ring?"

"You know, I hadn't really thought about it until you said it, but yeah. I suppose we have that in common. In your case, everyone had your back, which is good, because I wouldn't have wanted you to go through that experience the way I did." MC sits up and properly looks at me.

"What do you mean?"

"Every time I would destroy something--even though most of the time it was a complete accident--Raphael would make some sort of sarcastic remark about it. I think he started calling me the Hulk at one point, but it was meant as an insult." I pause.

"At least he had the decency to do it to my face. Lots of angels would talk shit about me behind my back. They thought I was too stupid to pick up on it, but I knew. They acted overly sweet towards me whenever I would walk in the room. Condescending, even. It was like I was a dumb kid to them." MC places a hand on my thigh and pats it.

"Sounds depressing," they remark.

"It was. Oddly enough, the one person in authority that didn't treat me that way was Lucifer. I initially thought he was too busy with his duties to really care about much else, but then one day he approached me and started talking to me. We had a legitimate conversation."

"About?"

"He told me to keep in mind that being a Celestial Realm soldier wasn't about attacking--"

"--but protecting." We must have woken Lucifer up. "You had the power to protect everyone--to keep them safe--and that you shouldn't feel bad because you were special. If you learned to control your powers, I'd recommend you to the cherubim and have you serve as a Celestial Realm gatekeeper. You did, and so I kept my promise." Lucifer beckons MC to pick him up and bring him closer to me.

"MC and I may be connected by the Ring of Light, but the two of you have a strong connection as well," he continues. "You're both motivated by the need to protect the ones you love, even if it means sacrificing yourself in the process. Drawing on that similarity is going to be the key to pass Solomon's test."

"Are you saying Solomon knew we had that in common?" MC asks incredulously.

"No. I did. I simply passed the knowledge along to him."

"How long--"

"The rooftop."

"Of Dogi Magi?" I'm glad MC understands what he's referring to, because I'm completely lost. Must have been something I wasn't involved with.

"You knew that Belphie would hurt you if you went against his order to reject me, but you did it anyway."

"I didn't want to lie to you."

"Because that would have meant hurting his feelings." Asmo may have used his powers to pick up on Lucifer's crush on MC early on, but I knew pretty much from the moment they set eyes on each other. Granted, he was more attracted to their soul initially, but who could blame him? It was bright and shiny, even back then. If we weren't under orders to not eat them, then they wouldn't have made it out of the assembly hall alive. Even Diavolo was struggling to contain himself.

Anyway, the point is MC cared enough about Lucifer in that moment to feel the need to protect him.

Just like I felt the need to protect Lucifer after I became a cherub.

MC's going to get their star.

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #basically what i'm doing with beel is depicting him as someone constantly in his head #and not in the 'i wonder what i'll eat next' kind of way #but instead having him silently observe what's happening around him and mentally commentate on it #sometimes it involves going on little rambles as certain things remind him of other things #but i'm trying to showcase someone who's able to pick up on people's personalities and feeling #simply by watching them interact with the world around them #i think he's emotionally intelligent #that doesn't always transfer to academia #but it is an important type of intelligence #because it helps guide interactions with real people in real situations #also #headcanon that lucifer was the last one to realize/accept that he had a crush on mc #asmo and beel may have picked up on it first #but eventually the others caught on #even the other exchange students #and diavolo #cue relentless teasing from diavolo to lucifer #diavolo: you have feelings for mc #lucifer: no i don't #diavolo: yes you do #and they'd go back and forth about it #diavolo just wanted his friend/occasional lover to be happy #and he thought mc was good for lucifer #so he rooted for them to get together #and was happy when they did

[bitchassbucky]

Ｃａｓｕａｌ Ｃｏｎｖｅｒｓａｔｉｏｎｓ

📎Word Count: 1k

📎Warning/s: MINORS DNI, NSFW! bucky eating your WAP while conversing about what to have for dinner lmfao that’s all you need to know

📎A/N: there’s a bit of banter in here bc normal seggs usually have those (as i was told)

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

“I’m hungry,” you whine, settling on the unmade bed with your legs and feet down on the plush carpeting that Bucky insisted to get.

He laughs, sitting down beside you and squeezing your knee, “then get up and let’s go out.”

The sun was about to set, the bustle of the 5th street coming to life as commuters and pedestrians mill about their life. City lights peeking through the buildings in the distance, contrasting the soft glow of the sky.

You let out an overdramatic groan, putting a pillow that smells like Bucky onto your face instead, “no... Too lazy.” Your speech was muffled by feathers and plush.

Adoration and a hint of mischief floods Bucky’s veins, “well, I for one can go for a snack right now.” Just as soon as those words leave his lips, you feel his metal hand against your inner thighs.

The vibranium and gold complementing your soft flesh as he digs his fingers gently, teasingly. Inching closer to the hem of your shorts.

You swipe away his hands, balancing the pillow on your face. “What kind of snack?”

“Something sweet.” Bucky continues, now sitting on the floor and facing you. Your legs are on the either side of his torso. He rests his chin on your knee then, his stubble tickling your skin just right—sending sparkles and shivers up your limbs.

A delightful hum slips past you, propping yourself up by your elbows and squinting at your boyfriend, “what are you doing?”

“About to eat a snack.”

“Ew.”

Bucky scrunches his face and bites your thigh, earring a regal yelp from you. “Hey!” Despite yourself, you put your thighs just so on his broad shoulders—a tinge of arousal coiling on the pit of your stomach.

“I’m hungry but,” you run your fingers through his hair, tugging gently, “please continue.”

Bucky’s baby blues are now tainted in lust; half-lidded and in love. So fucking in love.

He helps you out of those restrictions—“interesting underwear choice, my darling.”

You prop yourself up again, looking at him, your brow arched in a semi-incredulous position, “I like floral prints.” You defend yourself and your panties. How dare he make a comment when not even a month ago he bought you “All You Can Eat” booty shorts.

The 21st century and Bucky Barnes.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” He muses between your thighs, his hands pawing your thighs. The cocky asshole blows a breath on your slit, smirking when he feels goosebumps rising from your skin.

“Um, yes, that’s what usually happens when I’m horny.”

Bucky nips your skin again, you and your smart-ass mouth.

And then finally, he dives in—well, not quite. His tongue snaking into the crease of your thighs, his lips touching everything and everywhere but your clit. Your back arches as you feel his cold fingers caressing your lips, prying them open. Bucky groans at the scene unfolding before his eyes: pink, swollen, and dripping wet.

“Fuck me, baby, this is beautiful.”

The tip of his nose nudges your clit as his tongue laps at the wetness pooling by your hole, gonna fuck that pussy later. He notes mentally, refocusing on his mission of making you come undone with his mouth.

Slow stripes sent you keening towards his mouth, both your hands finding themselves on Bucky’s mane, “motherfuck—“ it dies on your lips as he closes his mouth around your clit and sucked.

Your hips unabashedly undulating as Bucky’s tongue swipes against your cunt, moving his head side to side, making the most obscene sound as he eats you out.

You wonder where he got that from.

He moans—oh, he moans like he’s the one enjoying himself. “Not to sound like Steve but I can do this all day,” Bucky mutters under his breath and against your heat. The timbre and low vibrations of his voice sending you into another spiral of pleasure.

Your mouth splits into a silent scream as Bucky pushes a finger into your pussy—fluttering around his thick digit. “Ow, fuck.”

He stops much to your dismay: overprotectiveness on display. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine—my lips are chapped though.” You observe, bringing up a finger to your lips and picking the skin. “Remind me to get lip balm next time.”

Placing a soft kiss on your thigh, he smiles sweetly, “yes, ma’am.” Continuing on his slow strokes, curling his finger just right into the spot that makes your toes curl.

Bucky feels your walls clench and flutter around his finger, and he adds another one for good measure. His tongue circling your clit lazily.

“Hey, we should go get—god, fuck—pasta later.”

So you’re still hungry, “maybe some—right there!—ice cream too?”

If he, doing his best work, can’t even pry you out of cravings, then maybe nothing will. Except for when you get what you wanted to eat in the first place.

“Can you let me finish and then we can get whatever the hell you want.” He smirks against your mound, placing a kiss.

“Sounds good—fuck, so good.”

Bucky picks up his pace; he’s a man on a mission. His metal fingers pumping in and out your cunt as his mouth once again closing around your bud—a move that makes you come every single time.

“I’m gonna come!” You call out, your eyes are screwed shut and your thighs are closing around his head. Bucky doesn’t mind that the balls of your feet are digging into his back.

He pulls out and grabs your hips, lifting you up closer to him. Bucky takes advantage of his strength and grinds your pussy on his mouth, drinking up every bit of your essence.

Your body is on fire—your leg muscles are quivering from the orgasm that Bucky just gave you. On both of your foreheads, there sits a sheen of sweat, glistening under the glow of string lights.

“Are you still hungry?” Bucky asks, passing you an opened packet of wet wipes.

You nod, pulling up your underwear, “actually, yeah. That made me more hungry.” Huffing as you get up from the bed and tossing the trash into a bin.

As if to prove a point, your stomach growled and you point at it, “see? Hungry!”

Bucky, zero; food, one.

#bitchassbucky writes #works: one shots #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff

[cacoetheswriting]

library hours [reimagined] - spencer reid

warnings: age gap, professor / student, maybe a swear word or two, a lil tension, but mainly a fluffy first interaction word count: 1.7k summary: a late night at the university library leads to reader meeting a certain handsome professor.

a/n: this is a reimagined / rewritten version of this fic. for those interested, the original centres around baby!spencer. both fics start off pretty much the same, what differs is the interaction between spencer and reader.

-

There was something you always enjoyed about the going to the library.

Perhaps it was the way every single person that walked through the threshold had a purpose. A mission to complete. Perhaps it was the quiet. The solace you felt sitting alone in a corner researching various topics, for class and for recreational purposes.

The university library had quickly become your second home. A location you frequented more than your own dorm room. It wasn’t always to study, no. You people watched. Doodled. Even napped there from time to time. The place brought you peace, and by the time you senior year rolled around, you saw the librarians more than your college friends.

The university library was also the place where you first met a certain handsome professor, doctor - which in time became the main reason why you liked it so much.

Lights were slowly being turned off section by section. A vacuum came to life in one of the aisles. People started to scramble from their seats - shoving their things into their backpacks, throwing out empty coffee cups into the overflowing bins, checking out books they might still use that evening.

All signs indicating it was time to go.

Dolly, one of the librarians, ushered towards you. Her jacket draped over her shoulders, her bag in hand. She gave you the usual spiel of how you can stay until the janitor is finished cleaning, to which you politely nodded along. She wished you a pleasant night, and with a “see you tomorrow” she hurried out the door.

Once she was out of sight, you groaned under your breath and ran your fingers through your hair. You had an assignment due tomorrow, one you started hours ago and only managed to formulate three total sentences. Your gut was telling you there was no way you were going to finish now, especially since you had about thirty minutes until you would have to leave.

Leaning back in your chair, you fluttered your eyes closed in an attempt to collect your thoughts. The tranquil feeling didn’t last long however, as you were abruptly brought back to reality by someone loudly clearing their throat. You immediately sat back up and quickly scanned the space for the source of the interruption.

A tall brunette man stood a few tables away, his hands slowly sliding into the pockets of his pants. He was definitely older, by how much you couldn't quite tell. But, you definitely took notice of how handsome he was.

“The library is closed for the night.” He stated, the tone of his voice calm yet stern.

“I have permission to be here.” You retorted with as much confidence as you could muster, but the mysterious man didn't seem impressed with your answer. With an arched brow, he took a firm step in your direction.

“From who?” He challenged, as if he was waiting to catch you in a lie.

You folded your arms across your chest, unwilling to give in to whatever game he was playing. “Dolly, the librarian. I could call her if you don't believe me?”

The brunette didn’t respond. Instead, his lips twirled slightly upwards into a sly smirk and with the way he was now looking at you, you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You only hoped he didn't see the faint pink blush now present on your facial features.

“May I?” The man asked after a brief moment of silence, pointing to to the chair beside yours. You found yourself nodding, before quickly turning your attention away from him, and back to the book in front of you.

While he made himself comfortable, his leg brushed against yours. The sudden close contact sent a jolt down your spine and you shivered. A small act he definitely noticed.

“You’re not some sort of killer, are you? You’re not here to murder me?” You asked, tilting your head to once again look at the man. Shaking his head, he let out a wholehearted chuckle.

“No, I’m definitely not a murder.” He reassured.

“Definitely? That's over selling it, don't you think? It’s exactly the kind of thing a murder would say.” You teased in response, gaining a little bit of your courage back. He didn't reply. The smirk on his face widened just a little and he eyed you silently, as if you were a treasure map he was desperate to solve.

The two of you stared at one another for what felt like eternity. There was something amicable about the seconds that passed as you looked into his hazel eyes. Something harmonious. Friendly. Strong.

When you finally broke contact and proceeded to return to working on your assignment, you could still feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. In any other situation, with any other stranger, the feeling would have made you uncomfortable. Scared even. But there was something quite thrilling about the mysterious brunette sitting beside you.

“I’m a profiler.” He said after another moment of comfortable silence. “I work for the FBI as part of their Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He added as you glanced up at him from your notes, intrigue gracing your facial features. The statement was to make you feel safer in his presence - not that it was needed since you already felt strangely guarded around him.

You smiled, dropping your pen and shifting in your chair to face him completely. “So, agent, what are you doing at a university library on a Thursday night? Did the bad guys take a break?”

“Doctor.” He calmly corrected.

“What?”

“It’s doctor, not agent.” He said, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I have PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering.”

The smug look on his face earned him a playful eye roll. “You don’t happen to have a PhD in History under your belt, do you, doctor? Because that would be very helpful right about now.”

“No, but I do have an eidetic memory and can read twenty-thousand words per minute.” He declared and you gaped at him in disbelief, mouth parting ever so slightly in shock.

Great, you thought, as if he wasn't intimidating enough.

“You could have just said you were a superhero.” You joked before leaning in towards him ever so slightly. The faint whiff of his cologne caught you off a little off guard, and you took a mental note to never again settle for someone that only used body spray. “Don’t worry, I’m really good with secrets. I won’t tell anyone.” You whispered and gently pressed your index finger to your lips.

The comment caused the handsome doctor to throw his head back in a whole-hearted laugh. He placed a hand on his stomach as you slowly shifted back to your previous position, chewing down on the inside of your cheek down to stop yourself from commenting on how good he looked.

“Am I going to get an answer to my previous question?” You asked once the laughter died down, your assignment long forgotten.

“I teach here.”

The statement earned him another eye roll. “Seriously? Is there anything you don't or can't do?”

It was his turn to lean in. He rested his elbows on his knees and intertwined his fingers together, his hazel eyes never leaving yours. The air hitched in your lungs at his proximity. You felt as if every single cell in your body was shaking.

“Well, us superheroes, we like to stay busy.” He whispered, his cool minty breath hitting you in the process, sending a shiver down your spine.

You cleared your throat, a timid smile appearing on your face. “There uhm, there’s this diner not far from here. It’s twenty-four hours meaning they won’t kick us out. Would you like to come with me? We can have coffee?”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved back in his seat and ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. You bit down on your bottom lip, wondering what was going through his mind. Wondering if perhaps you had overstepped some sort of boundary since he was a professor and you were a student.

But, it was just coffee. Nothing more. That wasn't so bad... Right?

“Coffee sounds nice.” He responded with a smile, after what felt like forever.

Outside, there wasn’t a cloud in the night sky making the million stars shine all that brighter. They looked like perfect sugar granules spilled on a dark surface, accompanied by the glowing moonlight.

The breathtaking sight was accompanied by street lamps. They illuminated the path while you walked side by side, almost in sync. Shoulders faintly brushing against one another.

“How long have you been a profiler?” You asked, looking ahead. The wind blew lightly through your hair causing your brunette companion to turn his head and observe you quietly. A smile crept up on his lips.

“I joined when I was twenty-two.” He answered. You glanced up at him for a brief moment - that wasn't much younger than you now. The look in his eyes suggested he knew that’s what you were thinking.

“Do you like it? Or do you prefer teaching?”

He licked his lips, thinking. As he furrowed his brows together, you noticed the unobtrusive age lines defining his handsome features. Each individual crease telling a different story, and you found yourself hoping you would one day be lucky enough to hear them.

“Every job has its pros and cons.” The brunette man stated eventually, lightly shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn't help but let out a soft giggle at his answer. “Okay professor, now you just sound conventional.”

He chuckled, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his pants. “I’ve been called many things in my life, miss. Conventional was never one of them.”

“It’s Y/N. My name, uhm, my name is Y/N.”

You both stopped once you introduced yourself, simultaneously turning in your spots, so that you were facing each other completely.

“Y/N...” He tested your name on his tongue, and a smile embellished your features because for some reason it sounded incredibly striking coming out of his lips.

“It suits you.” He retorted and the blood rushed to your face. Now, he definitely noticed the blush, you thought. He didn’t comment on it however. Instead, he proceeded to introduce himself, “My name is Spencer. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @willowrose99

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #professor spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #professor reid #prof reid

[americancowgirl19]

Eyes of the Devil

Summary: Pietro finds someone faster than him and you find your missing piece.

Warnings: violence, curse words, angst?, fluff

Reader: I wrote this with the reader being a male but it could be read as gender neutral; Male Vampire Reader

Pairings: Pietro x Male Vampire Reader (Gender Neutral); Laura Barton x Male Vampire Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 3,312

A/n: Reader speaks Slavic. According to Google Translate =  Moja duša - My soul. Malá holubica - Little dove. Malý - Little one.... I plan on doing more one shots in relation to this one. I wouldn’t really call it a series just a collection of random one shots with Pietro and this type of reader. Let me know if you wanna be tagged in them or if you have a request for a specific one shot you wanna see. This one shot was really just a starter for those future one shots coming.

Masterlist

If you were being honest, you didn’t know how old you were. You knew you were at least a few millennia’s old but after the first thousand years, who cares to keep track? 

You also knew that life could get very boring if you didn’t spice things up a little bit. Being a part time Avenger did just the thing for you. You didn’t care enough to help out full time but you were there if they were dealing with something extra tricky. Like an alien invasion or enhanced individuals.

It had been a hot minute since you had seen the rest of the team and was pleasantly surprised to get a call from them. Apparently Hydra had managed to pass abilities from Loki’s scepter onto humans giving them powers. One of them had an ability you shared thus pushing the Avenger’s to call you in.

Of course, you had a life of your own (surprisingly) and couldn’t just drop everything to help them. Although, once you managed to push your responsibilities to a loyal friend you left to track down the team.

This lead you to a seemingly abandoned factory. Shocker. 

You stayed in the shadows, undetected by everyone on the lower levels. You listened to the exchange between your team and the large robot. Your eyes then fluttered to the two that stood on the robots side. You deducted that those were the special individuals the team had called you in for.

You took in a deep breath, separating their scent from the others. You could sense the power coursing through their veins. While they had both gotten their abilities from the same source, you knew that they were very different.

If you gambled you would bet that the man was the speedster that Clint had complained about. Apparently he was a cocky little bastard. You didn’t have to know the guy to know he was arrogant. He stood tall, his chest slightly puffed out and his chin high. 

The talking didn’t last long before a brawl broke out. Your eyes followed the male as he zoomed around the room. While it would be impossible for the others to see him moving at such speeds, it was as if he were walking to you. 

He started coming your way, oblivious to the fact that you were even in the building. When he got close enough you stepped out and slammed a punch in his jaw. The force knocked him out of motion and over the railing. You watched as he fell to the main floor.

He groans, rolling onto his side as you land silently in front of him. Your entire body is covered making it impossible for him to see what you look like. Even your face, head and eyes were covered by some form of cloth or glasses.

“What? You didn’t see that coming?” You ask, smirking behind the face covering.

You had to admit, with Clint’s description of him you were expecting him to look different. Instead he’s older and more attractive. The arrogance clung to the air around him and it only drew you in.

“Welcome to the party, Y/n,” Clint greets from somewhere in the building. You didn’t respond knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you like you could hear him.

“Who are you?” The man asks, standing up on his feet. The Sokovian accent thick on his tongue.

“Someone you don’t want to piss off,” You warn fairly. He scoffs, causing your smirk to deepen. “Wood of advice, stay out of the way, Moja duša” You said, the name rolling off your tongue so casually you didn’t realize what you had said at first. When you do realize, the weight of the situation falls onto your shoulders. 

You stare at the man in front of you, his eyebrows furrowed. You knew that he could translate the words but he did not know the true meaning of them. Before he could ask anything, you sped out of sight.

You help out the rest of the team whilst keeping an eye on the speedster. After a few minutes, you noticed the others slowly begin to drop. Natasha stopped responding, Thor was muttering to himself and Steve looked lost. You could hear Hulk going on a rampage with Tony trying to stop him.

You snap out of it when you sense a presence behind you. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was the witch that had single handedly taken down the team.

When she got close enough to you, you whipped around and wrapped your hand around her throat. Her eyes widened and she becomes panicked. Her hand claws at your wrist as you lift her a few inch off the ground to become eyelevel with you.

“There is no nightmare you can show me that I haven’t already lived,” You hiss, tightening your grip around her. “Be careful, little witch, or you’ll find a fight you can’t win,”

You see, out of the corner of your eye, her brother speeding to her rescue. You hold onto her for a moment longer before dropping her to the ground and wrapping that same hand around his throat. While your grip is firm, it doesn’t constrict his airway. You take a moment to admire how he looks with your hand around his throat. An unseeable grin comes to your lips.

“Are you mentally challenged or do you just not listen?” You ask, tilting your head. He glares and fights your grip but it’s iron tight. “Take your sister and run far away, Moja duša,” You tell him, the name slipping your tongue once again.

“Who are you?” He asks, once again.

“Someone who will get you killed,” You tell him. You hand slowly leaves his neck. He stands there, observing you pensively. When he blinks, you’re out of sight.

...

You stuck around with the team. You got caught up on what was going on and what had happened since you last saw them. They asked if you would stay for a bit longer and your agreed.

You spent the night at Clint's with the others. His children hanging off of you as if you were a jungle gym. You tossed them into the air as many times as they pleaded you too. You also sped them around and played games with them. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, the children had you wrapped around your finger. They have since they were born.

When you weren’t entertaining children, you’re mind lingering on the male enhanced. You had learned their names through Steve. Wanda and Pietro.

You found yourself whispering his name as the night rolled on. You would smile a bit but it never lasted. You knew what he was to you and you to him. You also knew nothing could come of it, no matter how much you desired.

“You’re up late,” Your head snaps to the side to see Laura waddling into the kitchen. You winced when she flicks the lights on. She mutters a small apology.

“I don’t sleep, remember?” You reminded her.

“Ah, right,” She whispers. “In my defense, I have pregnancy brain mixed with morning brain,” She admits. “I’m forgetful,”

“I’ve known you since you were a child, how could you forget me?” You question, smirking at her. “I feel as if I’m quite unforgettable,” You admit, watching as she reaches for a glass to fill with water.

"I can’t forget you because you continue to pop up in the most random moments demanding for attention,” Laura tells you, slowly lowering herself into a seat at the table.

“I may be an isolated creature but even I need some socializing,” You tell her. She motions for you to sit as she sips on her water. “You should go back to sleep, Clint will be leaving in the morning. You need your rest, malá holubica,” You whisper to her.

“You leave as well and who knows when the next time you’re going to pop in,” She says, patting the spot beside her. Her eyes pour into yours. Without the threat of the sun, you didn’t need so much covering. You stayed in your trousers and vest but your arms, neck and head were exposed. “Don’t make me beg for you to sit next to me,”

Sighing, you give into her wishes. You glide across the floor and sit beside her. She shifts so that the both of you are face to face. One of her hands rest on her stomach while the other falls onto your lap. You smile a bit, holding her hand within yours.

“Something’s on your mind,” She mutters.

“Something’s always on my mind,” You whisper back, keeping your gaze on her hand. It’s significantly smaller their yours. It reminds you how fragile she is compared to you. “Its nothing for you to worry about,” You assure her.

“Well, we can still talk about it and make conversation,” Laura smiles.

“There’s plenty of other things to talk about, it’s been a while since we've seen each other,” You said, finally meeting her gaze. She doesn’t say anything for a moment as she stares into your eyes. She’s always been fascinated with them. They’re so inhuman. It always amused you how she found something about you, that struck fear and panic into so many, so beautiful.

The color of your iris’s are different shades of red. The red around your narrow pupil is bright and rich before transitioning into a deeper, darker red. The dark red seemed the slowly blend into the blackness of your sclera. Although, at the moment your eyes are significantly darker than normal as your throat continues to ache with hunger.

“You need to feed,” She tells you. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Dinner was lovely,” You comment. Her eyes narrow. “I’m fine, malá holubica,”

“You need to take care of yourself,” She scolds.

“What will happen if I don’t? I’ll die?” You growl, your hand clutching her a smidge too tight. Your anger vanishes when you notice her subtle flinch. “I’m sorry,” You whisper, gentle massaging away the ache you had caused in her hand.

“What happened today?” She asks. “Did you get affected like the others?” You smile, laughing quietly.

“No amateur witch can sneak up on me, you should have more faith in me than that,” You tell her.

“Then what’s going on?” She asks you. “You’ve been distant, lost in your own world. You snapped at me, you never snap at me,” She playfully pouts.

“I apologized, malý,” You practically whined. She smiles giving your hand a squeeze. 

“I know but it just shows that something is bothering you... I won’t be able to sleep unless we talk this out,” She threatens. You narrow your eyes at her. “Like you said, I’ve known you since I was a little girl. You can’t intimidate me,” Your glaring snarl turns into a pout. “Talk to me,” Sighing, you give in.

“Moja duša,” You whisper. Laura stares at you.

“My soul,” She mumbles under her breath. “Dimitri?” Your dead heart pangs at the sound of his name. Her face softens, her hand gripping yours in comfort.

“Pietro,” You correct her.

“Pietro?” She questions. “As in..?” You nod. “Maybe this is fates way of using you to get him and his sister on the right path,”

“Or it’s way of cursing me into another heartbreak,” You growl, withdrawing your hand from hers. You stand and return to your spot by the window. “The fates are cruel and hateful,” You snap.

“You don’t mean that,” She whispers. “She never meant to bring you more pain. She only wanted you to find unconditional love during a heartless time,”

“She should have kept to herself,” You growled. “Should have left me to my isolation. If she had she would still be alive and I would be-”

“Alone,” Laura cuts you off. “Your sister didn’t want you to live alone. She knew she couldn’t live as long as you. She knew you would outgrow everyone you knew,”

“Way to cheer me up,” You mumble. Laura sighs, pushing herself out of her chair. “Point is, this wasn’t supposed to be a curse... She had the right intentions,” She mutters, rubbing your back gently.

“I miss her,” You whisper, closing your eyes tightly.

“I know but you have me for the time being,” Laura whispers, hugging you tightly. You wrapped your arms around her, resting your chin on the crown of her head.

“Have I ever told you how similar your soul is to hers?” You whisper. “It’s what drew me to you... It’s like I have her back through you,”

“I just want you to be happy, she would too,”

“Can you women just let me find my own happiness on my own terms and stop meddling with things?” You grumble. She laughs quietly. 

“We can’t help it,” She whispers. “I love you, Y/n,” She whispers.

“I love you too, malá holubica,” You whisper, kissing her head. “Now, you’re caught up on the drama’s of my life. Please, go get some rest,” 

“Fine,” She sighs. “But do me a favor,” You sigh as she steps away from you. “Think about the good that will happen if you let Pietro in instead of pushing him away. Then remember all the times you tried to push them away but ended up holding them close,”

“Why am I so open with you about my past?” You sigh. “All you do is throw it in my face,” She laugh, gently tapping your face.

“Think about it,”

...

In the morning, you left with your team. You gave the kids extra long hugs before giving an equally tight hug to Laura. She scolds you for not visiting more and you promise to change that before climbing onto the jet.

When you find Ultron, you stick with Steve. The two of you fight the large robot to keep him occupied. While Steve managed to push the tin man around a bit, your punches managed to dent his plating. 

Ultron began to put his focus towards you, which you found flattering. You took the brunt of the punches while Steve basically danced around him. The both of you were managing to fight off the robot when Ultron got a hand on your hood and ripped the jacket off of your body. 

You screamed as your arms, neck and face began to burn under the sun’s rays. You barely register Steve tackling Ultron into a train. You fall to your knees feeling your skin begin to catch on fire.

Your mind pushes you through the pain. You look for shade but before you can run for cover your being grabbed and put onto the train. You lean against the wall, away from the sun.

You breathe heavily, your eyes opening a little to see Pietro kneeling in front of you. There’s concern in his eyes and despite the pain you’re in you smile.

“Perfect timing, Moja duša,” You pant.

“Y/n, you alright?” Steve asks, standing beside you. You just give him the thumbs up. “Lost sight of Ultron, there’s civilian’s in our path,” Steve say looking to Pietro knowing that your body is too focused on healing to help.

“Go,” You whisper, seeing his hesitance. Pietro nods and speeds off. You groan when the train goes off the rails. 

“You sure you’re going to pull through?” Steve asks, once the train stops. While the burns on your skin were to a lesser degree they were still red and you were still sore.

“Just help me up,” You grumble, holding out a hand. Steve grips it and hauls you to your feel. “Fucking robots and trains... I miss the days when humanity didn’t have fucking technology,” You grumble, following Steve off the train.

“-need to take a minute,” Pietro pants.

“I’m very tempted not to give you one,” Steve snaps, marching up to him.

“The Cradle, did you get it?”

“Stark will take care of it,” Steve assures them as you speed past the sun and back into the shade. Pietro stares at you for a moment before disappearing only to reappear with a sweatshirt. He hands it to you.

“Thanks,” You mutter, pulling it on to shield you from the sun.

“Don’t mention it,” He smirks.

...

Vision’s introduction was dramatic, to say the least. You stayed out of the drama. The only reason you continued to stick around was for Pietro. Although, you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Death follows you wherever you go, even more so than the Avengers.

You knew you needed to make a decision soon before the bond got to the point where you couldn’t leave. It didn’t help that Pietro didn’t respect the distance you were putting between the two of you. He followed you around like a damn puppy.

“What are you?” He asks.

“Take a wild guess,” You say, looking through the fridge for something to drink.

“I can only think of myths and legends... Stories to scare children,”

“You believe in talking robots but not me?” You ask, turning towards him with a blood bag in hand. He watches as your fangs extend and sink into the bag.

“So, you are real...” Pietro mutters.

“Unfortunately,” You mutter, tossing the empty bag to the side.

“What does Moja duša mean?” 

“You know what it means,”

“I don’t think I do,” He says moving toward you. “I think it means something more to you,”

“Stop,” You tell him but he doesn’t until you’re toe to toe.

“My grandmother would tell my sister and I stories about you... or your kind,” He tells you. “Said that certain people were cursed to be stuck with your kind for eternity,”

“She’s right... it is a curse,” You tell him.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” He tells you.

“Candy, bread, beer, it all tastes good but they’re not necessarily good for you,” You tell him. “Think of this on a much bigger, much deadlier scale,”

“Sounds exciting,” He smirks. You sigh pressing your lips together. He raises his hand toward the glasses you had yet to take off. Your hands shoot up and wrap around his wrist.

“Turn around and go back to your sister,” You demand. “Forget you ever saw me,”

“You’re unforgettable,” Pietro whispers. The two of you stay still until Pietro begins to move his hands again. They slip from your wrist as you allow him to take the glasses off. “Oči diabla,” He recites the line that is in all the stories. “Eyes of the devil,” He translates. “Who would have thought the devil would be so attractive?”

...

“If I see another Goddamn robot after this, I’m going to blow a gasket,” You hiss towards the end of the battle against Ultron and his multiples. You run around the city killing robots and rescuing civilians.

Eventually, ships come to the edge of the city to evacuate everyone. You run through the city multiple times in order to make sure nobody is left behind. You return to the ships in time to see Pietro go to save Clint and the child he’s protecting.

Your instincts over take you. Your by his side faster than a heart beat. Your arms wrap around him. You speed out of harms way without missing a beat. When you’re out of the way, you rip a door off a car and launch it at the spaceship sending it to the ground before turning to Pietro.

“Are you alr-” Pietro cuts you off with a kiss. The simple kiss amplifies the already strong bond between the two of you. Your hand instinctively rest on his hips and pull him against you.

“Thank you,” He mutters against your lips. You smirk, returning your lips to his.

...

I plan on doing more one shots in relation to this one. I wouldn’t really call it a series just a collection of random one shots with Pietro and this type of reader. 

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in them or if you have a request for a specific one shot you wanna see

#vampire #enhanced #pietro maximoff #pietro #age of ultron #soulmate #mate #avengers #avenger!reader #x avengers!reader #x female!reader #x fem!reader #x male!reader #x gender neutral reader #Laura Barton #maximoff #quicksilver #fanfiction #fanfic #vampire x human #vampire!reader #x vampire!reader #mcu #x you #x reader #pietro x reader #pietro x you

[obae-me]

Hi again! If it's not too much trouble, can I request the brothers reacting to an MC who usually bottles up their anger (they have a LOT of patience) until one day they just explode? You are an amazing person, and thank you for everything! I hope you aren't pushing yourself too hard!!

Hi, welcome everyone to another episode of Mara Doesn’t Know When To Stop, this time featuring this lovely request! I had a small idea, which then turned into five whole pages for Lucifer alone, so, I will also be doing this request into parts, I really hope you don’t mind! I get a bit carried away sometimes...I admit it... Anyway, Lucifer’s part is first! I hope you like it! 💜

Warning: Angst, arguing, cussing, It does lead to a happy end though, it’s a bit cheesy but sometimes we love it

We All Get Angry Sometimes

Word Count: 2707

He was fully aware of MC bottling up their true emotions. Being well acquainted with angels, he knew, despite all their holy patience, that even they had their limits. He will admit, he was impressed and proud with how far they had taken it, being human after all. Their control was practically as good as his own. No matter what his brothers did, what they said, how much they pushed them, for weeks MC just smiled and swallowed it. He was pleased. Until they could no longer retain their anger, and turned it all on him.

It had been at dinner, nothing unlike their meals every day, except recently Lucifer’s nerves had been on edge. It had been a few days since he had been blessed with adequate sleep, and his brothers were more bothersome than usual. Little did he know, MC’s mental state was about the same, close to the breaking point. An unhappy MC meant unhappy brothers, which meant it would all lead back up the ladder to Lucifer. There was only so far MC could be shoved around, only so long they could stay calm, and Lucifer had been the last straw. No one can really remember how it started, it hadn’t been important, simply some passing comment from one of the brothers discussing recent school projects. MC had scoffed, explaining their thoughts on how ridiculous the rules of said assignments were. Then it all went downhill from there.

“I’m not sure it’s your place to be making claims like that based on what your grades have been looking like recently,” Lucifer quipped. The rest of the siblings prepared to stand up for the human, knowing that MC was typically passive in nature.

Only, that same human beat them to the punch. “So, you’re saying that because I don’t meet your lofty standards, I’m not entitled to my opinions?” MC set down their fork, sending chills down the other demon’s spines as the room went silent.

Lucifer narrowed his gaze, already annoyed with their tone. “I’m merely explaining that maybe your statement would have more merit if you worked a little more at your studies instead of slacking off. And for the record, no, you haven’t been reaching my standards. I honestly expected more from you.” Every member of the household felt that line deep in their bones.

MC’s jaw clenched, the fire building up in their chest overwhelmed them to the point where if they shoved it down any longer, they felt like they would explode under the pressure. “You expected more from me? What more could you possibly want?! You’ve taken my home, my family, my friends, my culture, my time! You’ve constantly belittled me, ordered me around, expected nothing but perfection from me, and you still want more?! What have you possibly done to deserve more of me?!”

He was stunned at first, yes, but it didn’t last long. The shock factor was quickly replaced with a wave of fervent irritation. There’s no surprise he was already in demon form, doing his best to intimidate MC into submission. His eyes were glowing that deep red of his, looking down at the human as he got to his feet. His siblings slowly raised up from their seats as well, at the ready to intervene at any second. This whole event had them astonished to their core. Mammon and Levi had their jaws open. Asmo had his hand covering his mouth. Satan would have appeared proud of MC if not for the wary frown. Beel was instantly engaged in protection mode, already in a stance to grab onto Lucifer if he needed to. The eldest was barely able to control himself. Somehow MC had gotten deep under his skin, his body prickling with anger. “What have I--I’ve brought you into my home, ensured your protection, done nothing but make sure your experience down here is sufficient for your fragile little life! Do Not speak to me that way. Know your place.”

MC was physically vibrating from rage and frustration, their mind clouded with fury. Logic was far out the window now, they simply were saying whatever came to mind. Profanities were no longer held back. “I’m sick of your pompous holier-than-thou shit! I’m sick of working my ass off for you and not being good enough! You have a serious fucking lack of respect for everyone around you!”

The air was thick with his aura, his wings fully extended from his body. “Not another wor-”

“Fuck you!”

In a quick blur of motion, everyone worked together in tandem. As Lucifer lunged forward, his brothers held him back. Mammon scooped MC up in his arms and raced to the safety of their room before MC could get hurt, although deep in his heart he hoped Lucifer wouldn’t resort to violence. Lucifer growled inhumanly, flinging his brothers off of him in a single swift movement, ready to pursue the person that dared attempt to say such things to his face.

“How pathetic for you to have gotten so riled up over a few words from a human,” Satan shouted at him as he got up from his spot on the floor. Swallowing the small lump in his throat, he hoped this would prove a decent distraction as well as a way to snap his brother back under control.

Lucifer loomed over him. Satan seemed hardly disturbed. “Watch yourself.” But Satan’s words proved efficient, Lucifer’s Pride wounded as he realized how quickly he allowed MC’s words to get to him, how quickly he had lost control. All of his sibling’s eyes were on him, observing how he was acting. His head was pounding, but instead of heading up to MC’s room, he swiftly retired to his private study where he locked the entrance behind him. He paced around the area for a while, magically turning on some soothing music as his wings twitched in vexation.

He had been completely unprepared for MC’s retaliation, for their venom towards him, but perhaps he knew there was only so much a living being could take before they snapped. Had he been pushing them too hard? Expecting too much of them? Mistreating them? Had he gone too far? What if this spat ended up becoming a problem for the program? What if MC relayed this to Diavolo? His image, his reputation, they would be tarnished. Did MC think less of him now? Did he really care what they thought of him? He was better than this. He expected more from himself. He lowered his head as he sat heavily down into the chair behind his desk. He sunk down low, proper posture be damned. As he took a deep breath in, he realized he hadn’t been breathing for a while, lungs aching. He hadn’t meant to rub MC the wrong way. He simply strived to lead them towards the potential he knew they had. All he wanted was for them to feel proud of their accomplishments, to show the world what he knew they were capable of. But perhaps, it was unfair for the same standards he kept for himself to apply to MC as well. He pinched the bridge of his nose as that deep breath turned into a heavy sigh. He had failed in nurturing the success they’d already accomplished. He’d made them feel like they weren’t good enough, and now look at what he had done, in front of his family no less. Humiliating.

Meanwhile, Mammon was in the process of rubbing MC’s back as they lay on their bed, screaming into their pillow as angry tears fell from their eyes. They hadn’t meant to snap at Lucifer, it all...was just so much. They finally had cracked from the pressure. Everyone’s expectations had gotten the best of them. Be a human representative. Don’t let anyone down. Don’t show weakness. They weren’t purposefully slacking off from their studies, they just were burnt out, almost completely. Lucifer demanding even more from them...was the last thing they needed to hear today. Their own words made them feel sick to their stomach. Being angry wasn’t like them, it never sat well, which is why they always attempted to bury it in the first place. Mammon continued to tell them to breathe and calm down, doing his best not to freak out himself. He’d never seen his human act like this before. After some time, they both heard a polite knock on the door. As MC tensed, Mammon got up to answer it on their behalf. Lucifer was waiting, back in his casual clothes as his arms were settled folded across his chest, foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

“You’ve got a lotta nerve coming back here so soon,” Mammon scowled. “I won’t let anything happen to them, ya hear?”

“Nonsense, Mammon, I have no intention of harming them, I just want to talk. Calmly.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t think they’re in the mood for talkin’.” Mammon did his best to let his body block the entrance to the room, his shoulders nearly touching both sides of the door frame as he made his stature appear bigger. Lucifer peered over his younger brother’s figure, spotting MC sitting with their legs crossed on top of the bed, mostly calmed down as well, refusing to look at him. He noted the tear stains on their cheeks, and he resorted to having to clench his own teeth to stop the bubbling guilt rising up in his chest. He would make this right, if he couldn’t do this, how could he possibly call himself the wise and mature older brother?

“It’s...okay, Mammon,” MC assured him. The demon of greed scoffed, stating much too loudly that he would be right outside the door. He threatened his older brother not to even think about laying a single finger on them, unafraid of any punishment when it came to protecting MC. Lucifer waved him away with a single hand, too exhausted to deal with him further. As the door shut, he strode over to MC’s bed, chin high but spirits low. He had no intention of apologizing first, but if he could just persuade MC to start, he might be able to swallow enough pride to follow.

“Have we calmed down now?” He asked, MC simply nodding in response. “Very well.” He paused for a moment, letting an uncomfortable silence settle over the room. He did have many things he wanted to say, things he wanted to rectify, but for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to say them. Not yet. “Did you have anything you wanted to say to me?”

He observed them fight back their irritation before slumping their shoulders as they gave in. “I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

“And?” His voice sounded like a parent scolding a child, causing MC to nearly flinch in humiliation.

They bit their lip. “And the things I said to you were uncalled for. I know how much you do for all of us...for me.” They sat up a bit straighter as they stammered over the thoughts they wanted to say, to explain their feelings. They were afraid to be honest and vulnerable, much like he was, but they had the courage and humility to be open. It was a trait he secretly admired. “I just...I’m finding it difficult to--to find the--the energy and motivation to make everyone happy. And...and it hurt when…” They looked down, swallowing their emotions once more as they halted their watery eyes from crying again.

Lucifer let his body unwind ever so slightly. It would be rude of him now to not follow their example. “I...regret my words and my actions. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me, it won’t happen again.” He let the conversation fall once more as he took the time to straighten his coat around his shoulders and his gloves tighter over his fingers. “It was not my intention to invalidate your efforts. You’ve already accomplished more than I originally thought you were capable of, and it was foolish on my part to expect more from a simple human.” His rather backhanded compliment forced MC to rest their face in their hands in shame. The nerves in Lucifer’s spine shot a jolt up his back as he realized how terribly this was going. His temples were pounding, and he finally put his pride aside for the sake of reconciliation. He couldn’t stand to be the cause of their distress. MC stiffened as he sat himself beside them on their bed. A gentle hesitant hand hovered above their body before it settled between their shoulder blades. He glanced at the door where he knew Mammon was behind, probably listening in, and so he spoke softer. “I’m...sorry.” He had to ignore how harshly the words hurt him, but something about it was freeing. “I seem to have pushed you too far. I am thankful and truthfully astonished of what you’ve done during your time here. Not only did I cross a line today but I was blind to the fact that you’ve been overtaxing yourself. I know how hard it is to juggle my siblings and my work.”

He allowed his hand to drift up and down their back in a soothing rhythm, relaxing some himself as their muscles eased at his touch. MC finally raised their head from the confines of their palms and looked him in the eyes. “Do you think I’m a disappointment? A burden?” He found himself stunned for the second time today, and for a while he wondered when it was that he could be so easily swayed by the words and emotions of this human. Here he was, not only apologizing, but expending every effort he had in consoling them. He wanted MC to be happy again, because somehow it seemed to make his days a little brighter, his mood a little softer. Perhaps...he cared more for them than he realized. Their shouts had wounded him deeply at dinner, but somehow these new words hurt him more. Their forlorn face spurred an unfamiliar pain in his chest. 

“I’m sure it will be hard to convince you after the unforgivable things I said to you today, but it could not be further from the truth. I suppose the fact that you question yourself is one of my biggest failures. Clearly, we have not been communicating properly. For that I am..s...sor…” The words got caught in his throat. Apologizing once had been difficult enough, a second time seemed impossible. Out of the blue, he felt a tight set of arms wrap around his torso. He held his arms up in the air, his body turning rigid as his little hairs stood up on end. MC had pulled him into a tight hug, burying their face in his side. He felt their nose nestle against his ribs. As soon as he found his breath, his arms slowly lowered, settling around the smaller human. His body felt warm. Allowing himself a small smile, he cleared his throat. “I would prefer a situation like this to never happen again, do you understand?” MC detached from his sides, sitting back up as they nodded silently. “So, for the future, instead of quarreling with me, I expect you to come straight to me to discuss any woes or issues you may have. Fair enough?”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

He gingerly brushed his fingers against MC’s cheeks. “But it would be remiss of me to ignore the faults of my own. Since our meal was interrupted, what do you say to me taking you out to dinner, as my way of making amends?”

MC felt themselves blush a bit. “Sure-”

The door burst open, Mammon leading the charge as the rest of the siblings spilled into the doorway. They’d all been eavesdropping. Mammon came over and tugged MC further away from Lucifer. “Oi, what did I say about touching MC?!”

“And our dinner was interrupted too, I think we deserve something!” Asmo whined.

A loud grumble echoed from Beel’s gut. “I’m starving…”

Lucifer’s eyelid twitched a bit, and he gave MC one last apologetic look before he sighed. “Fine...we’re all going to dinner then.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc

[aspiringauthorintraining]

Take Me Out (2/2)

(A/N): ehem, this second part’s a little steamy (by my standards lol)

Part 1 here!

______

The next time you had found yourself in the king of curses’ domain, it was the first time you properly saw him in his physical form. 

“You could at least be a little nicer to me, Sukuna.” you expressed your disappointment of not being greeted warmly by the curse when you had made your way to the bottom of his throne of skulls. “I accepted your date even without seeing what you looked like first. The least you could do is say hi the first time we meet officially.”

Leaning on the side of the throne with his chin rested on his hand, he clicked his tongue at you.

“I should just kill you right now and get it over with.”

But you weren’t even listening, too distracted with staring at Sukuna’s appearance. Having always talked to the curse on Yuuji’s cheek, his physical form was unfamiliar to you. 

You unconsciously bit your bottom lip when your eyes trailed down his body, taking in every one of its features. Even though most of his torso was covered by the robe, anyone could tell he had a fit physique. Your appreciative stares seemed to further inflate his already large ego, prompting him to suddenly rip apart his white robe to properly showcasing his form.

Not that you were complaining. Not one bit.

Watching your still-dazed look with a pleased grin, he teleported down from his throne to where you were standing. 

“I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t think you were a pervert as well.” Sukuna smirked, smugly. 

Unknowingly, you swallowed at the sudden close proximity. It took everything in you not to reach out and touch his abs that were presented before you. 

After realizing you weren’t going to tear your eyes away from his chest anytime soon, Sukuna grabbed your chin with two fingers, pointing your face upward towards his.

“Eyes up here, woman.” he ordered you.

Meeting his eyes, you gulped at the look in them. And your breath hitched when his gaze flitted down to your lips.

A second later, his lips came down on yours.

Your eyes widened at the sensation of his mouth devouring yours, but it didn’t take long for you to adjust to the situation. You could feel him smirk when you returned the kiss with equal fervor. 

One of his hands wrapped around the back of your head, the other around your waist, pulling you in closer. Whatever space there was between the two of you was nonexistent now. Even when the two of you pulled apart in order for you to breathe, he didn’t let go of his hold on you. 

The room was filled with your heavy pants when the two of you finally broke away from each other. 

Sukuna observed your dazed look and swollen lips with a satisfied look on his face. It was the first time you were the flustered one, unable to say anything.

And when the strong force pulled at his consciousness, yanking him back to his designated resting corner in Yuuji’s brain, a devious plan brewed in his mind.

_____

Unbeknownst to you, something had been brewing in Sukuna’s mind ever since your previous encounter with him. And on the next assignment you had with the brat, he was going to put the plan into action.

But when the opportunity came the following week, he was met with the sight of you laying on the ground, clutching your stomach in pain. A steady stream of blood was seeping through your fingers, while a smaller trail leaked from the corner of your mouth. Cackling from an unidentified curse was heard over your coughing of blood, the laughter mocking the current state your were in.

At the sight of your injuries and loss of blood, Sukuna’s brows furrowed. He didn’t comment on your situation, instead choosing to direct his attention to the curse that was celebrating your currently wounded state.

When the curse noticed Sukuna’s glare, it flinched under his gaze. 

Realizing who had just entered the room and knowing the obvious outcome if it stayed in the king of curses’ presence any longer, the weaker curse tried to make a run for it. But before it could it could take a step back, its body was slashed into large chunks- thick, black liquid pooling on the ground from the sudden dismemberment. The head of the curse, fully detached from its body, dropped to the floor; briefly rolling a few feet away before coming to a stop on the side of its cheek.

Sukuna grinned in satisfaction as he watched the curse’s dark blood spew out from the its mouth. He neared the now detached head, shoes scrunching from all the blood on the floor. 

“You touched what’s mine.” he stated, with a psychotic smile.

Now, unable to attempt any form of escape, the bloodshot eyes on the severed head widened in terror at the stronger curse in the room. 

Placing a foot on the dismembered head, Sukuna’s smile dropped. 

“Now you’ll die.” 

All of the dismembered body parts were suddenly engulfed in burning cursed flames- and despite being detached to the rest of it’s body, the curse was able to feel the pain of each lick of fire. 

The curse’s face scrunched in pain from the pressing on it’s head from Sukuna’s foot, An only watch as all its body parts were suddenly engulfed in burning red flames, feeling the pain of each lick of the fire despite being detached to the rest of its body. 

Once the fire dissipated after there was nothing left to burn, Sukuna pressed down heavily on the dismembered head; a series of crunches sounding from beneath his foot until nothing stood in the way between his shoe and the floor.

A cough brought Sukuna’s attention back to you.

You hadn’t moved from your original spot, still laying down on the floor; struggling to take in a breath without coughing. He teleported to where you were, the weak curse now out of the way.

A trail of red leaked from the hand you had used to cover your mouth with. And the bright liquid stained the shirt you wore, darkening the white fabric with each drop.

“I guess I’m not going to be able to make it to our date.” you chuckled weakly, staring up at him. Your lips were coated with a mix of dried and fresh blood.

“You’re not going to die.” Sukuna muttered. “I told you, I’m going to be the one who kills you.” 

Placing a hand out, he used the Reverse Cursed technique to direct his cursed energy into sealing up your gaping wounds. In an instant, you were healed. Well, for the most part. The pain from the previous wounds still lingered in your nerves and there was the fact that you had lost quite a good amount of blood, causing your head to spin when you tried to stand up.

Your whole body groaned in protest as you forced your legs to support the rest of your weight; swaying a bit before grabbing onto the nearest stable thing- which was Sukuna. He didn’t seem to mind too much being used as a substitute for a wall, seeing as you weren’t pushed back onto the ground by him.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” you said, clutching your spinning head with a moan. 

The overwhelming presence of iron from the blood on your lips left a bad taste in your mouth. You leaned further onto him for support, trying to avoid looking at spinning floor by closing your eyes.

“Don’t throw up on me, woman.”

You breathed in and out deeply, trying to ignore the pungent smell of blood filling your senses, instead focusing on the musky scent coming from the person in front of you. You wondered if the scent belong to him or Yuuji, since the body technically belonged to the latter of the two.

“Distract me, then.” you replied without thought. 

Expecting another monologue on ways he was going to murder you in cold blood, you mentally braced yourself. 

But to your surprise, he remained silent. Instead, he grabbed your chin, lifting it up to his face.

Your eyes opened blearily in an attempt to figure out what his plan was.  Focusing your blurry, spinning vision, your eyes fixated on the suspicious smirk on his face. Before you could deduce where you had seen the specific smirk- without warning, he enveloped your lips with his own. And when he finally let you breathe, your were sure your head was spinning for a different reason than before.

He held your gaze with dark eyes, making a show of licking some of your blood that had gotten on his bottom lip. The action should have disgusted you, but you could only react with a hard swallow.

You gave him a questioning look when the smirk on his face quickly morphed into a frown. It was when the black marks decorating his body began fading away, that you realized Yuuji was regaining control of his body again.

“(Y/N)-senpai, are you okay?” Yuuji’s face turned into worry after registering your current appearance. “Sukuna wasn’t the one who did this to you, was he?”

You shook your head, giving your kouhai a reassuring smile. 

“No, just the opposite actually.”

“That’s a relief!” Yuuji gave a sigh of relief, completely clueless of what had just happened.

___

It seemed Sukuna had finally come up with the best way to kill you off. 

The cause of your death; prolonged loss of breath due to kissing. Whether this method was going to be effective or not, Sukuna was definitely attempting to find out through a series of experimentations. 

The moment that Sukuna was able to take control of his host’s body, he would seek you out wherever you were on campus, and you somehow always ended up sandwiched between him and a couch, or a wall, or the floor, or a bed, etc. After a round of suffocating you with his lips, he would allow you to catch your breath for a brief moment, giving you the false hope that you could finally breathe like a normal person.  Once he deemed you had breathed enough to continue, he would attack your lips once again, repeating the cycle right until he was forced to hand the reigns of control back to Yuuji.

To say that you tried stopping him would be a blatant lie. Besides, if he was always locking lips with you during his time of control, it meant he wasn’t out somewhere on a killing spree or committing mass genocide of some kind. It was a difficult(?) sacrifice, yes, but one that you were very willing to take for the greater good.

“Mffm- Su-“ you words were again interrupted by his addicting lips. 

Before you could succumb to his temptation for the fifth time that hour, you placed your hands firmly against his cheeks, pulling them away from your face.

“Sukuna, I need to go or I’m going to miss my flight.” you tried to convince him.

But your words fell on deaf ears, as he swatted away your hands, trying to near your lips again.

“Miss it then,” he grumbled.

It took all of your willpower to back away out of his enticing reach.

“As much as we would both like me to stay,” you laughed at his scoff of denial, “my flight leaves in an hour.”

You couldn’t help but grin at him, his disgruntled look resembling somewhat of a childish pout.

“Fine then, get lost.” he griped, but didn’t make a move to get off of you.

“Is that really your parting words to me?” you jokingly frowned. “What if I die out there, Sukuna? This is your last chance to leave behind no regrets and finally confess your secret love for me.”

“I’m the one who’s going to kill you, woman. I’ll confess my undying love for you then.“ he said sarcastically.

“So you do love me.” 

“Tch.” Sukuna rolled his eyes at your cheekiness. “Just don’t get killed out there by some weak-ass curse, like last time.”

You patted his cheek gently with a grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t miss our date. I’m looking forward to it too much to die now.”

He sighed once again at your flirtation, now used to your teasing. He motioned to get off from you, but was stopped by a tug on his shirt. 

He raised a brow at your hand gripping down onto his clothing. “You just said you had to leave, woman. Make up your mind.”

“I guess I could catch one of the later flights.” you reasoned with a grin.

And this time you were the one reaching for his lips. 

___________________________

*(A/N): hehe, this was supposed to be angsty but then somehow it ended up like this lol. anyways, thank you for reading~ ^^

#jjk #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #ryomen sukuna imagine #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna imagine #ryomen sukuna x you #no beta we die like sukuna did hundreds of years ago lol

[siimjaeyun]

blue bag- jay park

genre: fluff, angst, bad boy au

tw: street violence, mentions of gangs

-------

Jay's reputation at Belift wasn't exactly a secret to most people. The loose uniform with the leather jacket, covered bruises, and exposed tattoos were noticeable to anyone who bothered to pay attention.

Most people would like to assume to not judge him by his appearance, but his character matched it to a tea. He never bothered to give anyone the time of the day, much less even look in their direction. The only people who received such privileges were his closest six friends.

Or anyone who dared to cross his path- including the slight punches he's thrown at the occasional classmate.

But people couldn't see behind his intentions. Like the time he almost beat one of uppers to a pulp when they tried picking on jungwon his first year. All good intentions.

On this fateful day, the teacher had thought a slight change would mix things up. Instead of placing Jay in the back by himself like usual, he placed him right beside you.

"Hi Jay!" Your warm welcome startled him to say the least. Sure, he was used to love letters by other girls, but you didn't really look at him that way.

He stayed silent and placed his head back onto the desk. At the end of class, you bid him goodbye and walked out with your friends who seemed to tattle over him almost immediately.

-------

After yet again another argument with the rivaling gang leader, he finds himself cornered in the back of an alley way. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to think you could fight five men at once.

Tired, and out of breath, he's barely holding onto himself before there's a final blow to his lower stomach, collapsing onto the ground before him.

The men are about to approach him, this time, aiming towards his back, but retreat at the sounds of a siren.

"Here, hurry! They might come back." He looks up and finds it's you, carrying a bag in one hand and reaching out towards him with the other.

"Get lost." Jay, who is too stubborn to ask for help, attempts to get up before his knees give up on him.

"You can't walk. Stop being a bitch and let me help you." You swing his arm over your shoulder, and pull him up, guiding him towards the exit of alley way. At the closest convenience store, you rest him on a bench, bringing a towel to his face to wipe off the blood from his brow and lip.

"How did you see me?" He barely manages to ask.

"I didn't know it was you until I saw your face, which is very beat up by the way." He observes quietly and patiently waits for you retreat the towel from his face, slowly admiring the way you move your eyebrows while humming a small beat. 

“I’m done. I’ll call a taxi to take you home so you can finish up. I’m going to assume this isn’t the first time you get beat up.” Jay, snapping back to reality, stands up quickly and blocks your view of the street. 

“I can manage. Now go home.” He nods towards the direction of the grand city. 

“You can barely walk. Either I take you home, or text someone to come pick you up.” Jay immediately takes the second option, and searches quickly for his phone before realizing he must of left at it home. 

“Go ahead, call the taxi.” He mutters under his breath. The bright lights signal to him that he has arrived, and in silence, you drop him off, and leave, not letting Jay even look back and say a quick ‘thank you.’ 

----- 

If Jay didn’t know any better, it’s almost as if nothing had occurred yesterday. He’s still wearing his black mask to cover up his bruises, but you walked in with a smile and the same welcome from the past two weeks. 

Usually, he would turn the other way or not even bother to look at you, but his slight nod was reassurance enough. 

At the end of class, he was almost the last to leave, given that he had woken up from napping the entire class. Rather than seeing the empty room he was used to waking up in, he saw you again in front of him, holding a blue bag. 

“Here. Eat well okay?” You left the bag onto his desk and walked out again before he could respond. He stuffed the bag into his backpack and went towards the lunch room he was used to meeting his friends in. 

“Jay’s late and beat up. What a surprise.” Sunoo’s snarky comment doesn’t catch him off guard, and instead pulls out the blue bag from his backpack and rests it on the table. 

“Oh? Jay brought lunch? Quick, let’s rate his cooking skills.” Before Jay can react, Heeseung had already snatched it from the table, pulling out a Tupperware with a sticky note on top. 

“Who’s y/n? And why did she call you a loser?” Heeseung asks, opening the container to a bento box. 

“No one, now give it back.” Jay takes back the container, almost admiring the contents inside. 

It was the first time his heart began to take notice of you. 

----- 

Everyone was quickly suspicious about Jay’s relationship with you. It all started with him publicly going to you and thanking you for the food. Then it was the constant good mornings when you would welcome him at the beginning of class. Then it was the morning coffee, and walking you to class in the morning. He was practically stuck to you when he wasn’t with his friends. 

“You know, I think Jay likes you.” One of your friends mentioned casually, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Stop taking those rumors too seriously, he’s just paying back a favor.”

Yet, your friends weren’t the only ones who were beginning to notice. Most noticeably, Jay’s very own friends. 

“Sunghoon, I don’t like her, so can you shut up?” Jay, almost irritated by the constant confusion of emotions. 

“So, you wouldn’t mind her being so close with Sunoo?” Jake points at your direction. You laughing and trying to hold yourself together while punching Sunoo in the arm. 

“No. Of course not." Yet, he still finds himself burning holes into Sunoo's skull as he sees you wrap an arm around his neck to pull him into a head lock.

It seemed as if that was the last straw because in the next moment, Sunghoon was attempting to prevent Jay's next big mess.

"Get your hands off him." Jay commands, catching not only your attention, but those around him as well.

"Relax Jay, she's just playing around." Sunoo gets himself out of the head lock, and looks at your face who's been cleared of any laughter.

"I'll see you later Sunoo." You can't even look at Jay in the eyes before walking off with another friend.

"What's wrong with you? You know she wasn't hurting me!"

"Don't talk to me right now Sunoo." Jay storms off in the opposite direction while Sunoo turns his head to the side at Sunghoon.

"Am I going to die?"

"Not yet anyway. I think if you stay off y/n, maybe it'll extend your life line." Sunghoon states honestly.

"What do you think would happen if I told him she's my cousin?"

"I don't know but I've never seen Jay so..like this. Its a good look on him."

However, Jay is his full fledged rage, begins to shove everyone in his way including a poor freshman who happens to fall in front of your locker.

"Jay what the fuck!? Are you okay?" You crouch down and reach your hand out, giving Jay a bitter feeling.

"Is this how you catch men? You pretend to be the good guy?"

"Excuse me?" You repeat, shocked at Jay's sudden attitude.

"Nevermind just stay away from me? Got it?" You don't even process the words before he dashes off, ignoring his friends who are attempting to catch his attention.

"Sunghoon, what's his issue ?" Sunghoon only let's out a heavy sigh before shrugging his shoulders.

"It's not my business, but I can assure you that anger won't end well."

-----

And it just so happens that Sunghoon's response was quiet accurate considering Jay's familiar situation. He's been long enough member of his gang to know what territories they're not exactly welcomed.

Yet, he doesn't care and does so anyway because anything is better than having to imagine you with some one else.

"Haven't seen you in a while Jay, must have been busy hmm." The leader mocks him, but it only infuriates the pent up anger within him causing him to land a punch at his gut.

"Don't test me." And as if history repeats itself, he finds himself once more cornered in the back of an alley way. With the collection of bruises forming on his stomach, one could tell he was a kick or two away from a good surgery.

"Jay! Stop!" He curses himself mentally when he watches you run towards him.

"You better leave pretty one...I mean unless..." He approaches you, reaching for your chin to tilt it sidewards, leading to Jay using his last strength to push him off you.

"Don't touch her." Jay grits his teeth, earning a smirk that quickly turns into a frown at hearing the sound of police sirens.

"You got lucky this time." He flees the scene leaving you again with a bloodied up Jay.

"You promised me to not fight anymore!" Jay chooses to ignore you and limps away to a nearby post.

"And I told you to stay away from me y/n. I don't need people like you to worry about me because they pity me" He responds.

"How am I not supposed to worry when you left so suddenly? One moment we're good and the next you're mad at Sunoo and everyone?" You place him on the stair case while getting your first aid kit ready.

"How am I supposed to stay away when you worry me? Do you have any idea how fast I ran here with this when Jake told me you weren't at your house?" You continue to apply a bit of alcohol on his open cuts.

"I'm sorry, I was upset. I saw you with Sunoo earlier and I don't know what came over me. Sunoo is so darn perfect, and what about me? I was afraid you'd leave me." Jay mumbles the last part quietly, but you manage to hear it well.

Without much hesitancy, you press a light kiss onto his bruised and swollen lips. He gasps slightly but manages to wrap his arms around your waist.

"I'm not leaving okay, I'm here to stay if you want me to." Jay grabs you and pulls you in for a hug, resting his face in the crook of your neck.

"Please stay." He mumbles, letting his grip on you get stronger. He stays there for a while, before looking at the blue bag in your hand.

"What's this?"

"I brought some dinner because I figured you would be too lazy to do it yourself and end up eating frozen nuggets again." He smiles slightly before admiring your features.

"I really like you y/n.." Jay confesses, still in the position of hugging you.

"I like you too Jay...I really do." A grin forms on his face and he drops another kiss on your cheek before leading the way out.

Perhaps Jay wasn't exactly perfect, but you always knew he was more than ready to love and learn by your side.

------

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts haha, but I figured we could all use a little fluff with everything going on :( <3

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #heeseung #jungwon #sunghoon #jay #enhypen riki #enhypen jay

[candychronicles]

violence // k. takami (hawks)

A/N: my lovely take on @sightoru​’s dante’s inferno collab! congrats on 1k (and many more)! i loved writing this, was definitely so different and so much fun!! also, please please please heed the warnings. i mention some potential very triggering things in here! 

CHARACTER PAIRING: Takami Keigo x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,645

WARNINGS: sacreligious themes (it is dante’s inferno, after all), death, grief, mentions of eating disorders & self harm, negative coping mechanisms, violence and overall violent themes

SYNOPSIS: the seventh circle of hell is violence: what will you face here?

Want to indulge yourself in all the circles of hell? Click here! 

panting, you prepared yourself for the next circle, chill seeping into your bones as you pressed yourself against the cold metal of the creaking elevator. sir nighteye looked forward, no emotion betraying his face as he continued to guide you through hell. you weren’t certain what would happen in the next cycle but you were so close, nearing the seventh beast, and you were more than determined to finish and see your mom once again.

“this next one will be no more or less difficult than anything else but you may find it particularly hard to handle nonetheless. please exit and i will see you on the other side,” was all sir nighteye said before the elevator screeched to a halt. 

he gestured with one slim hand towards the now open door, a blinding light flashing in your eyes. you shielded your vision from the assault but marched forward, determined to get out of this hell hole as fast as possible. taking one step forward, you fell into the light, a silent scream ripping from your lips as you careened towards nothing.

isopropyl alcohol

that was the first thing you noticed as you came back to your senses. rubbing your eyes, you jolted your body forward, blinking at the harsh light, cocking your head as you tried to gather your surroundings.

an unsteady thrum of beeping caught your attention and with careful consideration, you opened your eyes, blinking once, twice, three times to make sure you were right in what you saw.

your mom laid under a plain white cotton sheet, monitors going off left and right, doctors swarming around you like you were absolutely nothing, like you weren’t even there. they spoke gibberish to you but what you did know is that you were watching your mother die all over again. you tried to help, tried to do something, anything to keep her alive, but your hands went through her body like she was made of thin air. you sunk to your knees, pain and despair clawing its way into your heart once more. your brain was confused, unsure of what was going on, only knowing intense emotions and suffering.

you burst your way through the crowd, slipping through them like a ghost as you panicked, struggling to find your way out and somewhere where you could calm down and figure out how to get back to the elevator.

“whoa,” a gentle voice said, hand placed firmly against your shoulder to stop your body from running.

“you can see me?” you questioned, looking up at him quizzically, trying to place where you had recognized him before.

“yeah, you’re running like a chicken with your head cut off in the middle of a hospital. kind of hard not to notice.”

quickly, you observed all the people around you, everyone looking at you with sympathetic eyes. you felt ashamed that you had acted that way, let the emotions get the best of you all over again as you watched your mom die once more.

“who are you?” you finally asked, blinking owlishly at him as you tried to understand what was going on.

“you can call me Keigo,” he replied, ushering you over to an empty waiting room so you could catch your breath.

“why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Keigo asked, a kind and gentle smile on his face as he encouraged you to talk.

without hesitation, you began to speak, expressing all the feelings you had, feelings of guilt that you couldn’t help your mother more, feelings of sadness that she was gone, of anger that she was taken away from you, of anger that you didn’t do enough to save her. he listened with rapt attention, the air getting thicker and heavier the more you ranted and raved about yourself and the whole situation. before you even had a chance to process what was going on, he grabbed your hands with his own, eyes peering deep into your soul.

“is that why caused so much harm to yourself? not eating or drinking for days, not showering, wallowing in your self pity, punching walls and slitting wrists? lashing out at yourself because you felt like you were too weak to help your mother, punishing yourself for not being there for her enough, for not loving her enough in her weakest hour?”

“w-what?” you asked, struggling to pull your hands away.

“i mean, i agree with what you did. your mother deserved better, deserved a child who could be there for her unconditionally, but you shouldn’t only be mad at yourself darling. those doctors didn’t do enough to save her either. it wasn’t just you who failed her but every healthcare worker out there too. they should’ve caught the cancer earlier, they should’ve treated her better, they could’ve saved her life but instead let her die on that creaky old bed, you by her side crying and not trying to help either. absolutely pathetic, all of you.”

as he went on and on, you felt your anger grow. not only at yourself and the doctors but him as well. you knew you were angry with them, you knew you hated yourself but for him to infer that you weren’t good enough, that nobody was good enough, set your heart ablaze. wrenching your arms out of his hands, you smacked him in the face, blood boiling at his insinuations and words.

you expected him to look shocked, angry or even confused but instead went wide eyed as he cackled, hand coming up to rub the imprint you left on his face.

“that’s it baby, hit me again. c’mon, don’t be shy, hit me once more. get all that anger out, make yourself feel better,” he cooed, tilting his head to give you better access.

without even thinking, you launched yourself at him, punching and kicking and screaming, angry at the world, angry at yourself, not even caring about him or what he was, enraptured with the feeling of power that came over you as you wailed on Keigo. 

as the blood pooled around him, you felt yourself getting weaker, the anger continuing to rage inside of you but the energy draining out of your body. red rivulets of blood danced and moved along the floor, attaching itself to his back, creating a dripping red pair of wings. realization flashed before your eyes as you watched the man stand up and crack his back, seemingly no worse for wear despite the beating you gave him. 

“y-you’re Hawks, aren’t you?” you asked, remembering the fallen hero who had lost his wings and turned to the side of villandry in times of hardship.

“in the flesh, baby.”

“you’re in charge of violence… a man who was once a hero, turned villain as his friends and partners betrayed him.”

“you make it sound so sad but really, it was enlightening, a real treat to be able to punish those who put me through so much pain,” he confessed, flashing red stained teeth as he leaned over you, his bloody wings dripping onto your face.

“how do you feel after all that fighting, hm? want to keep going? i’ve got all of eternity to fight you.”

you went to protest but before you got a chance, a fist connected with your face and you were hit with the flashback of your mother dying once again. 

a kick to your stomach had you thinking of the days laying on the bedroom floor, too tired to even crawl into bed.

a shot to the knees had you thinking about the time you sat with blood dripping from your thighs, wanting so badly to feel something, anything other than the emptiness you had felt before.

punch after punch, kick after kick had you wallowing in despair, anger at yourself for ever allowing yourself to feel again, anger at Hawks for kicking you while you were down, angry at the doctors for letting your mother die and angry at the world for taking her away from you.

just as you were about to give up and let the feeling of despair and anger consume you, you thought about all the good times you had with your mother, all of the memories of love and devotion, how she made you promise her that you would be happy after her death, how that promise got you out of grief the first time and how you so desperately needed to hear those words again.

with a determined nod, you rolled under a couch, kicking it up from above you towards the man with the feral grin. you shot out into the hallway, not caring about the pain and anger anymore, wanting to live and be happy for your mother, forgiving yourself, everyone around you and the universe itself for putting you through so much pain. turning a corner, you spotted the light at the end of the tunnel, the elevator glistening from the harsh hospital lights.

“come on little bird, don’t you want to play? don’t you want to fight your anger away and be punished for the failure that you are?”

“you may have caused so much violence in your life Keigo, you may have chose the wrong path and led a life of anger and pain, but i won’t do the same. i will live happy and free, not only for my mom but for me as well.”

with that said, you rushed through the empty hallway, leaping into the elevator, turning around to face the fluorescent light as the doors promptly shut in front of you.

“you’ve seen better days,” was all sir nighteye managed to comment as he took in your bloody and disheveled appearance.

you frowned and scoffed, the pain disappearing as you readjusted your hair and clothes, mentally preparing yourself for the next circle. 

you were not about to give up. 

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #tw: self half #tw: eating problems #tw: religious themes

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14

Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse

You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.

It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.

You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.

"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"

"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."

You leaned against the door. "Oh?"

"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.

"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."

"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.

"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."

"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"

Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."

You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.

"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"

Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."

"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."

"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."

You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."

"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."

"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.

"Hm?"

You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Max returned the smile. "Of course not."

You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.

"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.

"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.

Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.

"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."

"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.

"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.

"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.

"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."

Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."

"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."

"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.

"Hannibal-"

"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."

"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.

Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."

"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."

You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time. 

“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember. 

“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.” 

You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.” 

“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].” 

You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found. 

“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.” 

Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.” 

“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.” 

“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story. 

“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.” 

"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."

You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"

"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."

"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."

"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.

"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."

"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.

"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."

Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."

You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.

"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."

"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."

"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."

"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"

"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."

"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."

"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."

You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.

"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.

"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."

"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."

"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.

"I know." You conceded.

He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.

"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."

You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #cult girl #more cult girl #cult girl doctorate #cult girl 2 #tw death #tw family #pregnant reader #hannibal x pregnant reader

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 3): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Things are explained, and you’re taken by surprise more than once. 

wc: 2.7k

tw: none

masterlist

Moonlight streams into the tent from a gash in the fabric above, illuminating your captor as he sleeps in the massive bed built for a giant or two. You, however, lay on the ground beside the bed, eyes glued to the sleeping general in spite.

Geto had yet again embarrassed you at dinner, making you kneel on the floor next to his chair instead of taking your place at the table. His kinsmen had laughed at you under their breath, and when he began to feed you from his plate by handing you pieces of food from his hand, that had completely annihilated any piece of pride you had left. Gojo made a joke about you being a beautiful, albeit begrudgingly obedient puppy which earned him a round of riotous laughter. It took all you had not to burst into tears right there.

And when the General got tipsy and began to pet your hair with a fondness you could only describe as possession, you felt even more defeated. 

But now it was all over. You were alone with him once more, trapped - even on the ground - and unable to leave. You were physically unrestrained - because where could you go when the camp stretched on for miles? - but the entrapment was mental. Nothing like this had ever crossed your mind when you considered your future. It all rested on Yuko’s shoulders not two da--

Yuko. 

What had that one soldier mentioned? 

“Is she really as beautiful as Yuko said?” 

Yuko. 

The idea that he had anything to do with this encounter would have been absurd to you, except… now, it wasn’t. 

When you gasp and sit up abruptly, Geto cracks open an eye and his hand shoots out to grab the neck of your kimono. “Easy there, little one.” But when he sees your tears, his features go from scrutiny to a softer gaze, and his hand releases from your kimono and flops to the side of the bed. 

“Why am I here?” you whisper, wiping your nose. “What am I to you?” 

“You’re here because I want you here,” Geto replies, sitting up fully and letting the sheets slide down his perfect frame.

“Why me?” 

“You were headed to the Imperial Court. Like I said, it’s a hellish life there. You should thank me, really. If we hadn’t gotten to you befo--” 

“What does Yuko have to do with any of this?” As soon as you mention Yuko, the atmosphere in the room changes from careful and concerned to an inquisition. Geto places his feet on the floor, eyes glued to your tear-stained face as he stands and then crouches in front of you. His hand drifts to your cheek, rubbing away a fresh tear before a thumb is smoothed over your dry lips.

“I almost forgot… you were close to him, weren’t you?” You neither confirm nor deny the accusations by remaining dreadfully still, eyes locked with the man in front of you. “Your silence confirms this.” Geto stands again, moving past you before lighting a few lanterns and then walking around you much like the previous night. 

“I have eyes everywhere, little one. When I heard that the Imperial Matchmaker was headed around the country, I made sure of two things: one, that she would conveniently look for a common girl to wed to a Prince, and two, that she would be from one of the towns where my eyes were.” 

‘My eyes’… Yuko is a… traitor?

“You see,” Geto leans down to brush his lips against your ear as his hair tickles your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for a moment like this ever since I was denied my rightful place in line for the throne, and I’ve tried everything to get it back.” A shiver runs down your spine at his admission, and you crane your head up to look at him in shock, fearing the next words out of his mouth. His onyx eyes are crazed, almost feral with ambition. “Well, that is… except start a war. And what better way to begin one than over a stolen princess-to-be?” 

_______________________________________________________________________

When Kaori enters the tent later on that morning, you’ve made up your mind. The eater of curses made it very clear that you were a pawn in his bid to usurp the Imperial Throne, and he also reiterated that escape was absolutely impossible. You were being watched by eyes you couldn’t see, listened to by ears you couldn’t deafen, and talked about by mouths you couldn’t shut. 

But there was one thing you could do. 

As the woman tends to your bruised knees, you examine her tools. 

“Do you have something that I could use to mend my old gown? And do you know where it went?” Kaori looks up at you, her brown hair falling behind her ears as her face contorts into a confused expression.

“Your old dress is gone, my Lady.” 

“It is?” 

“Sent downriver to the nearest village and made to look like you had been killed.” The news of your faked death is alarming, to say the least. 

“You mean I’m--” 

“Like most captives, you will no longer be searched for.” How many others had this happened to? 

“I-” 

“And I know what you’re thinking, Lady y/n. I am not permitted any sharp tools aside from what I am allowed to use in the hot springs with the other ladies, but they are not sharp enough to take a life. I am sure Master Geto will allow you to join us one day, though.” 

“H-how many women has he had before me?” Kaori looks up at you again; her eyes cold and unforgiving. 

“Only one, and she almost ruined him.” Her hands return to your calf, massaging the muscle carefully. “But that will never happen again. That we will all make sure of.” 

Another blue kimono, another morning spent alone until lunch had been brought to you. You now roam around the camp, followed closely by Kaori and another young woman you don’t know yet. As you bite into the pear in your hand, you try to catch bits and pieces of their chatter, but you lose the noise as soon as you encounter something new - which is every three seconds. Out of all of the women you see - most young women probably not above the age of twenty-nine - none of them wear blue kimonos. They’re either in red or green, perhaps signifying rank or job. But in all of the days you’ve seen Kaori, she’s dressed in multiple different colors, all except blue. 

You wonder what that means for a moment before you chance upon a large, open field full of men practicing their swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. You’re standing on a high part of a hill just before it slopes downward to where they are sparring. As your eyes scan the crowd from above, you look for your long-haired captor, and you cannot find him until a hand points over your shoulder. 

“You see that ring there?” The other woman speaks, and your eyes instantly hone in on a ring of men huddled around two figures fighting. “Master Geto and Master Gojo fight there all the time.” 

“Who wins?” you wonder, looking back at the giggling maid. 

“Which way will the wind blow tomorrow?” she answers, and at your confused expression, Kaori steps in.

“Some days it is Master Geto. Other days it is Master Gojo. We can never tell until the spar has ended and the dust has settled.” Your eyes turn back to the men in the circle, and you see a long stream of jet black hair and then long white hair, but they’re moving much too fast for you to be able to discern their movements. 

“They won’t be done for a while,” The other maid adds, and places a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure Master Geto will come find you when he’s ready to… unwind.” The giggles at this comment do nothing for your nerves. 

_______________________________________________________________________

The General returns to the tent after a few hours, cuts and bruises dotting his half-clothed physique. You eye him carefully as he stalks past you on the bed, followed by a male attendant who rushes to help him undress and take a bath on the other side of the curtain. 

He’s silent as the water sloshes around, and you can barely make out any other noises besides the occasional hiss of pain or deep exhale. It’s obvious that the man who attends to his wounds did his job properly when Geto emerges with only a bandage on his right side, blood dotting the cloth taped to his ribs. 

“Scoot over,” Geto waves his hand at you, flopping onto the space you’ve made with barely so much as a ‘thank you’.

“Did you win?” you inquire and Geto looks over at you before touching his arms behind his head and giving you a toothy grin. 

“Of course I did.” You both lapse into another silence before Geto clears his throat and slides a hand from under his head and onto your back. “You went to see us train… I’m surprised you’d be interested in that.” 

“I was walking around and happened to observe the melee.” 

“Kaori told you about how our fights end, then.” 

“She and her companion didn’t add much to the already obvious; you two spar well.” 

“Do you fight, little one?” he asks innocently. You give him a look and that’s all he needs to see to know that the answer is ‘no’. “I should teach you to fight, then.”

“Why, so I can fight you and then run away after I win against you?” you retort, and Geto laughs suddenly, clutching at his injured side. 

“I didn’t say I would teach you how to beat me, I just said ‘to fight’,” he chokes out, wiping away the tears that dot his bottom eyelid. “You have a very interesting sense of humor.”

“It keeps me alive,” you mumble and you feel the hand on your back run up and down your spine. While the comforting gesture is kind in nature, it makes your skin crawl that someone so evil could touch anyone in an affectionate way. 

“Did Yuko ever touch you like this?” At this question, you look over at the man who spoke, eyes blazing. 

“He would never,” you snarl.  

“Smart man,” Geto grumbles, sitting up; now placing his hand on your leg. “I told him not to touch my things. He learned that lesson as a child and it seems it has carried over well.” 

“I’m your thing, now?” You snatch your body away from his grip and climb off the bed, shuffling to the far side of the tent to be alone. “You know, when people get pets, they at least give them something to play with and keep them busy during the day.”

“You want something to play with?” Geto moves off of the bed and raises a brow, fingering the waistband of his pants thoughtfully. “That can be arranged.” Fear leaps into your throat even though the man doesn’t move a single inch closer to you. You swallow hard, then Geto speaks, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly. “When I imagined taking a woman, it did not seem as hard as it actually is. Besides the frustrating part, you vex me entirely in areas I have never been tried in. I’m trying to keep you pure, so when this is over and I can release you to your hometown and you’ll be free to do as you please… but little one, you make it hard for me to control myself when you act this way.”

“It is obvious that you are a patient man and tha-” 

“It is not enough when that very vexation causes me to be kinder than I’ve ever been toward someone who repeatedly disrespects my existence.” 

“Kind? To me?” You scoff, turning away and crossing your arms. 

“I have been far kinder to you than anyone else I have held captive.” He’s advancing on you, but you can’t do much except back up against the tent side with fear. 

“All for some war so you can take the throne?” 

“All for my rightful place as Emperor.” 

“As a bastard son of the current Emperor, really.” Your cheeks are squeezed between fingers, and you taste the tang of iron in your mouth. You try to yank your face out of his grip, but it’s too strong, and you find that you’re held quite close to him as a result. He brings your face closer to his, eyes running wild over your features for a moment as he holds you captive. 

“Watch your tongue,” Geto warns, then lets you go, inhaling deeply before shaking out an exhale. You rub at your cheeks and now bitten tongue mournfully, giving the General a nasty look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I would if you told me everything,” you mumble, looking away from the way his muscles were illuminated and painted perfectly and to the ground. “If I’m to be a pawn in your game, at least let me in on your plan.” 

Geto looks over his shoulder at you, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips up. It’s something you can’t look away from, and your mouth dries up at the gesture of familiarity. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? I’ll tell you my secrets and then you’ll go and tell your kinsmen the plan, right? Somehow get that information to them… then plan your escape.” The smile falls, and the General turns back to you, his face now utterly serious. “I’m not a fool, little one. Foolishness did not get me this far, and I won’t begin to act like one now.” 

At this, he stalks out of the tent and leaves you alone again, stuck with your thoughts and your increasing desire to run away and never look back.

_______________________________________________________________________

Dinner. 

You’d come to dread the most decadent meal of the day where you would be sitting on the floor next to the General. You were not permitted to speak, but only eat from his hand and drink from his cup when allowed, and anyone could make fun of you behind hands or openly, as you were nothing more than an object. 

As you contemplate your fate yet again, you feel the familiar tap of something warm at your lips. 

“Eat.” Geto urges you, and you reluctantly open your mouth to accept the piece of meat. When you look around the table, you can just barely see the eyes of Gojo and Haibara following the motions of Geto’s hands as they converse about military strategy, but you can definitely see the eyes of the one they called Nanami following your movements with precision. 

Another piece of meat is presented for you to consume, and you do so mindlessly, observing the others at the table with less interest. That is, until you catch the little eyes of a child who sits at the other end of the table. He’s mid-chew with his little hands in the food, perhaps just now seeing you sitting on the floor like an obedient dog. 

You hadn’t seen children here before now, and it seems that the “little one” here was actually him, with his pink hair and brown eyes observing you curiously. It isn’t until he hops down from the table - his little hands plucking a piece of fish off of his plate - and disappears that your head eagerly follows his movements. 

Geto notices that you’re distracted and puts a hand on your shoulder, directing your attention back to him.

“If you--”

“Eat.” The voice of the child and the sliver of fish pressed to your mouth shocks both you and Geto, and the whole table is silenced by the interaction. “Eat.” The child encourages you again, and you accept the fish, his little fingers placing it in your mouth with care. As expected, the laughter begins anew, but you feel like laughing too as the child climbs back up to his seat and continues his own meal, unaware of the spectacle he’d just created. 

“It appears you have an effect on little Yuji, Geto,” Gojo howls at the end of the table, holding his stomach as he and Haibara roar with laughter. “Soon he’ll be feeding his own lady just like you!” 

And Geto laughs as well, tossing his head back and letting the sound carry into the night.

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou x reader #jjk gojo #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #getou suguru

[whentommymetalfie]

Home to you -chapter 5

-Closer-

Prologue//1//2//3/4

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Summary: Tommy and Alfie both want to take things further. But it turns out, things might be more complicated than simply wanting. 

Warnings: mental instability, hallucinations, self harm, self-hatred, ptsd, panic attacks, disordered eating

Content note: sexual content

Wordcount: 3,7

Tommy wakes up with led in his veins, head too heavy to lift from the pillow and confused about his whereabouts. The warmth of a hand on top of his head tells him he’s not alone, at least. It prompts him to squeeze his eyes open just a fraction to observe the world through his lashes.  Alfie’s sat next to him, paper in his lap and with his glasses balancing low on his nose as he thumbs the pages with one hand, combing gently through Tommy’s hair with the other. Tommy stays completely still. Wants to stay in this moment, sink back into sleep and hide from the memories of the past night before they fully catch up with him. His right palm throbs dully and he clutches it against his chest, willing away the feeling of glass digging into fragile skin. He squeezes his eyes shut. Wants to stay in the warm safety of here and now, with Alfie, in bed, with Alfie’s fingers in his hair. Far away from the coppery smell of blood and the voices echoing between the tiles.

“It’s so easy, Tom, so easy, and then you’ll get to rest.”

“It’ll never be anything more than this. What do you have to offer him? Look at you.”

and he looks and looks until he can’t bear it anymore until it’s all too much and-

“Tommy?” Alfie scratches lightly at the nape of his neck. “You awake?”

He nods, because he needs Alfie to talk, bring him out of the darkness. Like last night.

Alfie keeps stroking his hair.

“You gonna open those pretty eyes and greet the day and your companion any time soon, eh? Nearly lunchtime innit.”

He can hear in his voice that he’s smiling. And he wants to see that, so he opens one eye to peer up at Alfie. Who is indeed smiling down at him. Tommy curls up impossibly closer, as if he could fully melt into him, face pressed into his soft side. Alfie flinches when his nose digs into a ticklish spot and lets out an indignant snort, but then continues petting him with a fond chuckle.

“Just a little kitten, aren’t you, petal? Yeah. Bet you’ll start purring one of these days.”

Tommy ignores the comment and drags in Alfie’s familiar scent into his nose.  

“How’re your hands feeling?” Alfie asks. “You in much pain”

“It’s not too bad,” he mutters into his shirt.

With an unconvinced hum, Alfie takes his hand gently and presses his lips against the back, just softly, continuing over his knuckles, up his fingers and down the inside of them, featherlight over his bandaged palm, until he can kiss the inside of his wrist. Which sends a thrill of pleasure up Tommy’s spine.

Then, Alfie leans down and kisses him. It brings out different memories altogether from last night. Alfie kissed him then too. Lifted him up onto a counter and kissed him until his head was swimming. He sinks into that feeling now, happily following where Alfie leads.

The steps approaching outside makes Tommy pull away, but Esther just passes. He looks towards the door, unable to relax. Esther has certainly seen him in more compromising positions. But still---

Taking his chin lightly in hand, Alfie turns him away from the door and smiles again before pressing another kiss against his lips.

When the steps approach a second time, this time accompanied by low humming, Alfie relents.

“How about we pick this up later tonight,” he whispers into the hot air between them. “When we know we won’t be disturbed. And I can take care of you good and proper.”

The words light a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, his chest, and fluttering and fragile as it may be, it’s definitely real. So much so that Tommy finds his lips twitching into a smile as he whispers, “Is that a promise?”

Alfie chuckles, low and dark and the way his eyes light up makes Tommy wish he could find more enticing things to say, anything to keep that expression on his face always.

“Indeed it is, love.”

…

The day passes impossibly slowly. Alfie helps him stick to the usual routine, the firm schedule of eating, walking, resting, doing a crossword or two, followed by the usual afternoon nap. The one Tommy swears he doesn’t need but still always ends up taking sometime in the afternoon, cuddled up against Alfie’s chest in front of the fire as he reads, when the ever present weariness overcomes him.

It’s easy enough to fall into the familiar pattern, even if he can’t stop counting the hours until sundown, for once feeling something other than dread at the thought of going to bed. Everything makes him think of it: Alfie’s hands lingering after he’s helped him with his coat. The soft brushing of lips against his forehead as he dozes off in the afternoon. The firm warmth of an arm around his waist during the walk. Little things that remind him. He clings to those, to keep his head quiet. Tell the voices that no, Alfie doesn’t find him repulsive, Alfie likes touching him, Alfie doesn’t look at him and see something ugly and broken. It helps a little. Even if they’re not silent for long.

…

Despite what happened last night, Alfie lets Tommy take a bath on his own, that evening. Not without fussing first, and not with the door locked. And as Tommy reclines against the cool porcelain, all the anticipation that’s been building throughout the day seems to vibrate through him. Despite the heat of the water he trembles, and he tries to force himself to relax without much success. He glances towards the mirror. Where it used to hang, at least, the empty space above the sink. The bones inside of him seem to poke through his skin, bruising his insides and he can’t find a comfortable position. He wishes he could lay down completely, sink underneath the surface until the water makes him weightless and takes the pressure from his bones, but the mere thought of being under the surface makes his throat constrict in panic. Instead he sits up. Draws his legs towards his chest and stares at his bruised knees. Scratches hard over the place where the bone sits too close to the skin.

Alfie asked, last night, if he’d been trying to hurt himself. More than you already had, that’s what he said. Tommy doesn’t know. If Alfie hadn’t showed up when he did, to shield him from the ghosts and pry away the sharp piece of glass from his hand… he doesn’t know what would’ve happened.

The thought scares him enough to stop scratching at his knee and put his legs back down, hiding the thin trail of blood left by his nail.

Eventually he climbs out of the cooling bathwater. It’s a small mercy, not seeing his reflection. But it’s not enough. And they still remind him, even when he can’t see himself, they tell him, won’t let him forget-

He dries himself off and puts on the large flannel shirt, burying himself in the safe scent and the soft warm fabric. Pulls his underwear on and makes sure the long sleeves on the shirt cover his hands, cover as much of him as possible.

When he emerges from the bathroom on legs that still feel unsteady, Alfie is sat on the bed, glasses in place and with a book on his lap. The scene exudes safety and familiarity. He looks up when the door swings shut. Something dark and hungry seeps into his gaze, and it makes Tommy stop in his tracks, a shiver running down his spine under the intensity. He must be looking like a deer in headlights. Feels like one, at least, frozen and helpless.  

“Come here, love,” Alfie says, beckoning him over with an outstretched hand. The hand is unnecessary because the command in his voice is enough to physically pull Tommy towards him. The book lies forgotten on the bed and when he’s close enough, Alfie grabs him by the waist and pulls him down onto his lap and into a kiss. It’s surprisingly gentle at first, but Tommy eagerly parts his lips and soon it becomes deeper, hungrier. Alfie kisses him like no one’s ever kissed him before. So self-assured and firm, taking the lead and making him follow. And he gives into it completely, desperate for more.

In a swift movement, Alfie spins them around, leaving Tommy laid out under him on the mattress, legs around his waist. A surge of heat rushes into the pit of his stomach, making his hips buck up against Alfie’s solid frame. Already gasping and aching for it.

“If you want me to stop or slow down, you just let me know, alright, pet?” Alfie says, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. “Yeah? Just say the word. Or give me a poke in the shoulder if that’s too difficult. But other than that all you need to do is relax. I’ll take care of you.”

Tommy nods and sinks into the feeling of relief. Alfie’s got this. Alfie knows what he’s doing, even if Tommy himself suddenly feels like a blushing virgin all over again. Alfie flashes him a grin and plants a quick kiss on his nose. “Alright then.”

And take care of him, he does. Begins by kissing him on every inch of bare skin he can reach, the sharp edge of his cheekbone, his temple, trailing his lips down his jaw, stopping right at where his pulse throbs to scratch his teeth gently against the skin. It sends a pleasant shiver down his spine and Alfie must be able to tell because he lingers on the spot, sucking a mark onto the skin before moving further, down to where his collarbones peak above the shirt. His hands meanwhile are stroking down his sides, his hips and thighs, leaving burning trails behind. Lighting a dizzying arousal that collects in the pit of his stomach, burning hot and all consuming.

Tommy’s own hands are buried in the back of Alfie’s shirt. Eventually he works up the courage to tug it up towards his shoulders. Alfie sits back between his legs. Pulls the shirt off and smiles down at Tommy when he reaches out to touch, running his hands down his hairy chest, solid muscle and the swell of his stomach. If he could, he would’ve told him, how beautiful he is, how much he wants him, how much he wants this. Instead he pulls him closer, tries to show him. Needs to have that powerful body fully pressed against him, needs all of him at once-

Alfie is so warm and heavy on top of him when he kisses him again, cock hard and straining against his boxers, pressing against Tommy’s hip. Tommy wraps his arms tight, tight around his chest and just clings to him while Alfie’s tongue laps against the roof of his mouth, entwining with his own, setting the pace. He drinks in the kisses eagerly, desperately wanting more, more- His hips buck, searching for friction any way they can.

When Alfie’s hand finally trails up the inside of his shirt, tension ripples through his muscles like icy water. The hand stops and Alfie raises both eyebrows in a silent question. One Tommy knew would come but still doesn’t know how to respond to.

Alfie’s seen him in less clothes before. But so many of those times he was too far gone to even reflect on it. Now he’s painfully aware of his own body again. And Alfie is right, he doesn’t believe him when he says he’s beautiful. Only thinks of that scrawny figure in the reflection. He hides his face against Alfie’s chest. Alfie strokes his side gently. Each time a finger dips into the hollow spots between the ribs he feels his stomach turns into knots.

How can he let Alfie see, when he knows what he’s become?

“How could anyone want you? Look at you-“

Look at you

Alfie wouldn’t

Look at you

“There must be something you can do?” Lizzie’s voice is sharp and demanding as she speaks to the shadows looming over his bed. “Look at him, he’s wasting away.”

Wasting away locked away forgotten in this room

“The only option is to feed him more often, but-“

They keep talking over him and he wonders if he’s really here at all

“-considering his aversion to it that might have a negative effect on his wellbeing overall, I’m afraid.”

In this room

Where the door is always closed

And no one touches him except the men in the white shirts with their tubes and their cold hands and all the dark figures who try to keep him still and he’s wasting away nothing but a black hole

Cold mud

Pushing the air from his chest filling all the empty crevices-

No one can stand touching him.

“Shh, treacle, ‘s okay.” Alfie’s voice emerges from the chorus of others, whispered against his ear. “You’re beautiful. Let me show you. Let me take care of you”

He desperately tries to ignore the snide remarks that follow Alfie’s softly spoken words, things that echo in his own head, that’s all, not real. This is real, Alfie’s voice, Alfie’s body against his-

Alfie kisses him but he can’t feel it, the scratch of his beard or the soft press of lips against his.

He tears himself away, presses his face into his chest again as he struggles to breathe. Coughs to get the mud out, has to get it out, out pushes harder into the firm surface to find an anchor, it’s cold against his forehead, cold wet dirt and the smell of earth and

blood splitting pain and wetness trickling slowly down his face

splutters and coughs and chokes as bits of mud hack up his throat.

“God, there’s nothing there Tommy! Will you just fucking listen to me?” Lizzie’s fingers can reach all the way around his wrists. “Frances, get in here!”

“Fuck-“ the weight on top of him shifts but he still can’t breathe- “Tommy?”

he struggles uselessly against the hands.  

Until they disappear and footsteps echo across the floor, doors slamming, new hands,  shushing, dark figures and faces he doesn’t recognize.

The room floods with warm light and Alfie’s face swims into view. He cradles his face, holds it still, but he can’t feel it, can’t feel the heat against his skin-  

“It’s alright, sweetheart, breathe with me, in and out- I’ve got you.”  

He’s moved, pulled closer, ear pressed against Alfie’s chest, he listens to his breaths, the steady beating of his heart. In and out. In and out, the familiar mantra.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Alfie’s got him, he’s safe. Alfie’s got him, and he’s safe, Alfie- he clings to the words with every stuttering in and exhale, until feeling slowly seeps back into his limbs again, he can feel the warmth of Alfie’s skin, the firm hold of his arms encircling his waist and cradling his head against his chest. He winces when he comes back to himself enough to remember why they’re in bed together.

“I’m s-sorry,” he chokes out. His teeth clatter together so hard that getting any words out at all is a struggle. “I don’t know why- why this is happening,”

“Shh, fuckin’ nonsense that is. Apologizing. Nothing but a bad habit. If you’re not ready, we’ll take it slower. Simple as that, eh?  

He grasps desperately at Alfie, shaking fingers against firm muscle.

“No, no, I want to- I-“  

“Shh, love, just you focus on breathing and leave the talking to me. Sometimes your head knows it’s wants something but the rest can’t quite keep up,” Alfie says and rocks him slowly in his arms. “The opposite ‘s true too, I reckon. But I’m nothing if not persistent, so I promise we’ll figure it out. Don’t you worry your pretty little head ‘bout it.”  

He presses his nose into the crook of Alfie’s neck and sinks into his embrace.

Alfie begins rubbing his back slowly. The hand moves up along his waist, outside of the shirt this time. He stays in one place. Rubbing warm circles into the skin. Tommy forgets to breathe.

“Relax, pet. ‘s nothing dangerous, this. I’m keeping it right here, see? Does that feel okay?”

The thin barrier the shirt provides helps somewhat. He nods. And as he gets used to the sensation the worst of the terror it caused before fades, at least enough for him to relax.

“There you go. Doing wonderfully, aren’t you?” Alfie moves his hand further down to his waist, caresses all the way to his hipbone and up again. Over and over. “Yeah, you’re doing so good, sweetheart. Just relax. It’s all fine.”

And as the adrenaline seeps out of his veins, his eyelids become heavy. Alfie keeps stroking him, lingering in each spot for a long time. And before he can even feel himself slipping, he’s asleep.

…

For once it’s not a nightmare that wakes him, but Alfie tossing and turning in bed next to him. By now Tommy’s instincts have him reaching for Alfie already in his sleep, so once he drags himself out of it he’s already firmly pressed against him, face buried in the crook of his neck and one arm wrapped around his bare chest. He drags his scent into his nose. Reassures himself that he’s safe. Not alone. Never alone again. And he’s already sinking back into sleep when Alfie lets out a grunt into his hair and presses closer. He’s hard, the outline of his cock pressing into Tommy’s thigh, thick and straining against his boxers. The feeling sends a sharp spike of arousal to the pit of his stomach. He lies frozen, barely daring to breathe. Alfie’s arm is tight around his waist, keeping him firmly pressed against him. His hips roll forward, making Tommy’s heart jump. Heat floods through him, pooling in his groin, and he presses his thigh harder against Alfie, can’t resist. Fuck, he’s so big. It’s a thing he never knew he’d find so arousing: the feeling of a big, hard cock pressing into him. Now, the reaction is so strong it almost frightens him.

Alfie’s arm tightens around his waist and another moan escapes him, hot and raspy against Tommy’s ear. His own cock quickly becomes achingly hard and he swallows down the urge to shove a hand down his shorts and touch himself. Or turn around. Rub himself against Alfie until- oh fuck-

Alfie suddenly jolts awake, unsuccessfully attempting to untangle himself from both the blankets and his own grip around Tommy all at once. He looks blearily around the room before setting his eyes on him, half closed and with a confused crease between his eyebrows.

“Fuck, sorry ‘bout that, love” he slurs. Gestures awkwardly downwards as he relaxes back against the pillows. “Don’t pay any attention to it-“

He clears his throat and once again shifts to pull away. Tommy kisses him. Surges forward and crashes his lips against Alfie’s, clumsy with need, tongues and teeth clashing as Alfie kisses him back with equal fervor. He tugs at the thick arm around his waist and Alfie rolls them over, settling his entire weight on top of him. Tommy spreads his legs, grinds up against him and whimpering at the feeling.

Alfie stills for only a second, but he squeezes his thighs tighter around his hips.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers against his lips and with a growl, Alfie thrusts forward, rubbing his stiff cock against Tommy’s. He moans, open mouthed and desperate against Alfie’s lips.

Then they’re moving frantically together, Alfie’s hands digging into his arse to push him closer, grinding down against him, hard and unforgiving. Pinning him against the mattress with his entire weight. Tommy rolls his hips, heels digging into the backs of Alfie’s thighs, desperately chasing friction and fuck, fuck, he’s so close already- it’s all too much, and not enough, Alfie’s cock, hard and thick under the thin fabric of his boxers, the soft ,heavy press of his stomach, he writhes against the heat and the firm pressure of muscle and flesh, close- so fucking close now-

“Oh, oh Alfie-“ he keens and the release washes over him in sharp waves of pleasure, quick and relentless and absolutely brutal, he’s crying out, voice cracking into sobs and Alfie doesn’t stop moving, chasing his own pleasure against his over sensitized cock.

“Fuck, Tommy-“ he groans into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck, that’s so good, love. Fucking hell-“  his hips push harder and faster until they stutter. He pushes his face into the crock of Tommy’s neck, hands painfully tight around his arse as he comes, shuddering through his release. Then he collapses on top of him, breath hot against his neck.      

A warm stillness settles in the room, where only their breaths are heard. Tommy’s head is full of cotton, muffling all the noise, softening it. Eventually Alfie raises himself up on his elbows and lets out a chuckle.

“Fucking hell, love. Not exactly how I’d pictured it, bedding you for the first time. Thought’ I’d be more of a gentleman about it.” He brushes away a sweaty lock of hair from Tommy’s brow and smiles. “But I’ve always believed in doing what comes naturally. I promise to take better care of you in the future. Do it properly.”

Tommy knows he’s blushing and the cotton makes it impossible to come up with any words. Alfie rolls over onto his side to tuck him against his chest. He’s shivering for some reason.

“But perhaps some drowsy, half-asleep rutting was just what we needed, eh? Just to blow off some steam. And can I just say that you make for quite a sight when you- Fuck, sweetheart, you’re shaking.”

Alfie rubs his back and pulls the blankets up higher around him, tucking them around his face and wherever he can reach.

“You alright, love?”

Tommy hums, even if his teeth clatter together and every breath hacks its way up his throat. Because Alfie is here and Alfie holds him and keeps him safe.

And he’s alright. At least in that moment.

#tommy x alfie #breathe again verse #home to you #peaky blinders fanfiction #disordered eating tw #panic attacks tw #hallucinations tw #ptsd tw #self harm tw #I don't even know what to say it's here it's posted #it is what it is

[nanasparadise]

“Your musketeer in a blue tunic” Yan! Polnareff x female reader (musketeer AU)

Hiya everyone! As promised, here is a Yan! Polnareff writing, since he was in the top four of the poll for the special but hasn’t reached the top three. I thought it might be a fun idea to make him a musketeer and now I’ve realised this fic turned out to be low-key a Belle and Gaston situation from Beauty and the Beast lmao. Anyway, there might be historical inaccuracies in the story, I’m sorry for that.

Summary: You’re a farmer woman in 18th century France and a certain musketeer keeps crossing paths with you…

TW: toxic relationship, noncon kiss, low-key harassment, forced marriage, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Word count: 3900

“Just about half an hour and I’ll be there”, you mumble to yourself. 

The pouring rain drenches your whole form, an icy cold having already nested deep in your bones. But you can’t stop now, even if it’s raining cats and dogs. You know you have to arrive to the main market place, which is located a good three hours from the farm you live in. If the wool – which you hope isn’t too wet, knowing the burlap bags aren’t protecting it well from the rain – won’t be sold today, you don’t know how you could afford some bread for your family. You think of your little siblings, how they always stare at you with big eyes, expecting at least some crumbs of stale bread in order to satiate their hunger a bit. Your heart aches painfully at that mental image. No, you’re going to sell the wool at all cost, no matter if it means you get sick due to the weather. You owe it to your loved ones, needing to protect and provide for them as the oldest sibling. 

A chilly wind blows intensely into your face, making you shiver even more. Lucky for you, no other person is currently on the road, meaning you’re in safety. You’re aware about how many sketchy men lurk in these streets by the countryside, just waiting for a young woman like yourself to pass by and to do God knows what with her. As a protection measure, you always carry a knife with you, hidden in your boot. Fortunately, you haven’t needed to use it, yet…

Suddenly, you hear the footsteps of a horse approaching you, the characteristic sounds of its hooves drawing closer to you. Your first instinct is to immediately pull out your knife, but you refrain yourself. 

“It’s probably just another merchant who wants to go to the market, too”, you think, comforting yourself. And even if that shouldn’t be the case, it would be wiser to take your possible aggressor by surprise with an attack if needed. 

The steps are now dangerously close to you, too close for your liking, until they come to a halt. Surprised, you stop your walking as well and look up to the person on the horse. Next to you on his steed is a man around your age, probably a few years older, with peculiar silver hair and bright blue eyes. Through his uniform, consisting of a characteristic blue tunic with a white cross on it, you immediately recognise the stranger as a King’s musketeer. You hastily curtsy and meekly avert your gaze, given that he’s of a higher social rank. Why would a musketeer want from you, a farmer? 

“Good day, Monsieur”, you greet the musketeer politely. 

“Good day, Mademoiselle”, the stranger answers jovially. “Please forgive my intervention, but what does a young lady like you travel alone on such a dangerous road?”, he asks you, sincere concern marking his voice. 

Why would he care? And why would he refer to you as a lady when you’re clearly just a commoner? You get the sudden urge to grab your knife again, but of course your rational brain side hinders you from doing so.

“I’m only going to the market place, good sir. I’d like to sell some wool”, you explain shortly, your eyes still not meeting the stranger’s. 

“All alone?”, the Frenchman wonders. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice, Monsieur. My father has to work on the farm and my mother looks after my younger siblings”, you reply truthfully. Honestly, you’d prefer not giving too much information away to the stranger, but lying doesn’t seem like a safe option either. 

“I see, Mademoiselle,” the musketeer utters politely, “in that case, I’d be pleased to escort you to the market place. After all, my heart couldn’t handle if something happened to a damsel.” 

“Thank you for your generous offer, Monsieur”, you answer civilly, curtsying gracefully again. Though internally, you sigh and roll your eyes at the Frenchman’s words. 

“More like his ego couldn’t handle getting rejected by a common woman”, you ponder cynically. You’re about to continue your walking as the stranger stops your action abruptly. 

“Wait a moment, Mademoiselle,” he shouted hastily, “I’ll take your bags and settle them on my horse.” The silver-haired man dismounts from his white horse and takes the bags filled with wool from your hands, placing and tying them on the animal’s back. 

“You are far too kind, Monsieur”, you say with an overly sweet voice. Lucky for you, the stranger doesn’t seem to notice the hint of sarcasm hidden in your tone. Instead, he smiles brightly at you, revealing a row of impeccable white teeth. 

“As a musketeer, it’s my duty to help a lady in need”, he boasts proudly. Again, you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Ah, how rude of me, Mademoiselle, I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Jean-Pierre Polnareff, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss…?” 

“Y/N L/N”, you reply meekly. 

“What a lovely name, Milady.”

~

The pair of you have been walking silently side by side for a while. You simply wish to arrive as fast as possible to the market place, wanting to get rid of Polnareff’s present. After some time, the stormy weather has changed into a brighter, more pleasant sky. Though some sun rays peek through the clouds, the cold from the previous rain remains. Upon seeing your slightly quivering form, Polnareff offers you a blanket he has in his supplies with him. Politely, you decline his offer. You certainly don’t want to be more in the debt of such a high ranking man. 

“I apologise if this may come across as rude, Mademoiselle Y/N, but I couldn’t help but notice that there isn’t a ring on your finger”, the musketeer suddenly mentions. The hairs on your arms stand up at his observation and you instinctively straighten your back. If Polnareff has seen your discomfort, he still chooses to continue speaking. “And you’ve said previously you’re living with your family on a farm. How come such a fair maiden like you isn’t married yet? I reckon you must have many suitors.” Something about his tone and the dangerous gleam in his blue eyes sets you on edge. 

“Oh, I do have had some suitors in the past,” you answer truthfully, but cautiously, “but I’ve chosen to not marry. My family needs me and I don’t wish to let them down.” Polnareff gives you a tender glance, the prying shimmer being replaced with sympathy now. 

“Maybe you’ll soon find a wealthy man who’s able to help your family out”, he mumbles softly, though you still could hear his words. 

“I’d rather not base my life on such an improbable dream. After all, I’m just a common farmer,” you say, slightly amused. “He doesn’t have a clue how life’s for a commoner, does he?” 

“So you’d like to marry? It’s your dream, didn’t you say that, Mademoiselle?”, Polnareff counters, hope swinging in his voice. Why is he hopeful? But you decide to not voice this thought. 

“Well, that’s quite a difficult question, Monsieur Polnareff,” you retort,  feeling unsure now “it would be the wisest choice for me to marry, but at the moment, I feel content to take care of my family.” For some reason, the musketeer’s face falls at your last sentence. Disappointment takes over it instead, his lips turning into a bitter, thin line. 

“Ah, I see”, he replies wearily. You immediately notice the change of atmosphere, though you don’t comment on it. Instead, you two continue strolling in silence.

Eventually, the pair of you arrive at the market place. During your travel, none of you spoke further, the mood being too tense and awkward. You settle your burlap bags on the floor on a free spot after the silver-haired man has removed them from his horse for you. 

“My sincerest thanks, Monsieur Polnareff.” You bow politely. Even though your eyes have been trained on the floor for only a matter of seconds, some stealthy thief has been able to snatch one of your bags. Immediately, your head leaps up. 

“Hey, this belongs to me! Give it back!”, you scream angrily. You wouldn’t let some trickster take your wool, not after working so hard for your family! You’re ready to run after the knave, but a hand on your forearm hinders you from doing so. 

“Let me handle this, Mademoiselle Y/N,” Polnareff says confidently, “you’ll have your merchandise back in no time. Just wait for me here.” Quickly, the musketeer dashes into an alleyway after the thief. Confused, you’re left alone at the market place, the man’s horse being your only companion. A sigh rolls off your lips. 

“Guess I’ll have to do what he says if I ever want that wool back”, you exclaim exasperatedly. This is the last thing you’ve needed today. First, you’ve been drenched by the rain, then a weird musketeer has started following you and asking you eerily invasive question and now your precious goods have been stolen. In the meantime, you try your best to sell the remaining wool.

After half an hour, you still haven’t sold any wool at all. Though you were definitely drawing attention on you by shouting out some offers, no one has seemed to be interested yet. No one even cared enough to look towards your direction. 

“I guess I’ll just have to stay all day, then”, you think gloomily. From the corner of your eyes, you notice an all too familiar form approaching you, though this time with a bag in his hand. 

“Mademoiselle Y/N!”, Polnareff shouts excitedly, “I’ve retrieved your bag from the thief!” A sincere expression of gratitude appears on your face. Yes, the man is more than annoying to you with his clingy behaviour, but at least he was chasing the trickster for you! 

“Thank you so much, Monsieur Polnareff!”, you exclaim happily, relieved to have your wool back. Now there’s only the matter of selling it left… 

“Of course, nothing to thank for, Mademoiselle! I’d never want to see such a charming lady like you in need.” 

Purposefully, you ignore his statement, an awkward feeling bubbling up in you. Instead you’re thanking him again. All the while, the Frenchman keeps staring at you with a look of fondness, a huge and proud smile adorning his face. In his mind, he’s just proven to you how capable he is of taking care of you and your family. How could you refuse him now? He’s literally your knight in shining armour! Or your musketeer in a blue tunic. It doesn’t matter, he’s practically your hero! 

Polnareff’s grin only widens at the thought of you swooning over him. The silver-haired man doesn’t know why he feels like this towards you. Maybe it’s because you just looked so pitiful when he saw you on that road, soaking wet from the rain. Maybe it’s his pride that doesn’t let him relent. Maybe it’s the way your eyes sparked with determination and love when you talked about your family. Maybe it’s your radiant atmosphere, which draws him in like a moth. Maybe you’re secretly a witch who put a love spell on his poor self, making him a fool for you after having only met you. Maybe, maybe, maybe…  

Polnareff quickly stops his pondering. “It’s not of importance,” he muses, “as long as she’ll realise I’m the best choice for her.”

“I see you haven’t sold any of your goods yet”, the musketeer says, trying to sound casually. Though in his thoughts, he already has a plan schemed. 

“No, unfortunately not,” you reply, an exasperated sigh following swiftly, “but there’s still some time left until I have to return home. Surely, I’ll be able to sell some.” 

“You know, Mademoiselle Y/N, I’d rather not see you standing here all day, maybe even for it to be in vain,” Polnareff utters, concerning coating his voice, “let me help you, I’ll buy the wool.” Your eyes grow big at his proposition. Even though it’s more than a generous offer, especially after all he’s been through for you today, you can’t help but feeling alerted. Why would he go all these lengths for you? He can’t be that kind, there must be something he wants in return. 

“You’re far too generous, Monsieur Polnareff. I can’t accept such an offer”, you tell the musketeer, hoping he’ll actually drop his suggestion. But the Frenchman remains stubborn as a mule. 

“Ah ah Mademoiselle,” he tuts you condescendingly, “I’m a man of my word. How much would you like? Are two livres enough?”

Your eyes widen so much at his offer, you wouldn’t be surprised if your eyeballs fell out. Two livres? Is that man insane? The wool is hardly five sous worth! 

“I think you must have meant two sous, Monsieur Polnareff,” you answer him, still shocked. 

“Pas du tout, Mademoiselle. Two livres is what I said and what I meant. Or would you maybe want more?” 

Vehemently, you shake your head. Two livres… That would feed your family for at least three months! “No Y/N, you can’t take this offer!” Your thoughts interrupt you suddenly. Not only does your conscience forbid you from doing so, your parents would also wonder where all that money comes from. They might assume you’ve stolen it as no one would believe a stranger to be so kind to just give a random farmer way too much money. 

“Monsieur Polnareff,” you try again to change his mind, “I really don’t think you should-“ 

“Ah, there’s my pouch!”, the silver-haired man exclaims happily, ignoring your previous words. Eagerly, he takes two shiny coins out of it, pressing them in your palm. Admitting your defeat, you curtsy and express your deep gratitude again. Though a small part inside you does enjoy the fact of getting provided for.

After your exchange, Polnareff insisted on bringing you home again. You dislike the idea of him knowing exactly where you live, but that man’s stubbornness and pride is bigger than the Palace of Versailles. Which is why the two of you are walking back to your farm, the wool resting on Polnareff’s horse’s back. 

“What are you doing with all the wool, if I may ask?”, you say with a questioning look on your face, “Surely, a musketeer doesn’t need to fabricate his own clothes.” The Frenchman rubs sheepishly behind his neck and offers you a smile. 

“Ah Mademoiselle, you see, I might just donate it. I’ve just wanted to help you out, I don’t need it myself.” Even though you still cannot bring yourself to trust him, your heart warms at his statement. 

“That’s indeed very noble of you, Monsieur Polnareff”, you reply candidly. The musketeer sends you another bright grin, a subtle blush forming on his pale cheeks.

The sun has begun to set as the two of you arrive on the farm. With a polite curtsy, you’re ready to finally return home, excited to tell your family the good news regarding the money. But Polnareff stops your goodbye. His hand finds its way to your wrist, halting your movement. 

“Before we must depart, Mademoiselle Y/N,” he counters hastily, “I’d like to be assured that we’ll meet again soon. I find myself enthralled by your presence.” 

Your heart beats faster at his proposition. Suddenly, you realise the dangerous situation you’re in, the big hand capturing your smaller wrist. Could you really deny him without facing consequences? Thoughts like these rush through your head as the man in front of you keeps waiting for your reaction. Still, you’re going to try. If something should happen, you still have your knife with you and your father would surely rush out once he hears your screams. 

“Monsieur Polnareff,” you start hesitantly, “I’m deeply flattered by your words. You are truly an admirable and honourable man whose kind actions shall always carry my most sincere gratitude. Though I must admit, I don’t think it would be a wise idea to meet again.” The Frenchman makes a crestfallen face at your words. You feel almost bad for him. “Ah, I think I should explain myself further. Well, Monsieur Polnareff, we are of two different social classes, continuing mingling with me would put a bad reputation on you. I cannot offer you something of interest. Plus, I like staying with my family so far, this is my home.” 

“Y/N”, Polnareff whispers affectionately, his thumb rubbing softly on the inside of your wrist. You shoot him a surprised look, confused by him dropping the formal title. If anyone would have heard this, they’d turn it into a scandal. 

“I know my offer might appear strange to you, but I wish to marry out of love one day. I’m aware it’s fairly uncommon and even looked upon with scorn to marry below someone’s station, but the matters of the heart outshine the matters of the mind in my case. I have more than enough money, a comfortable estate and an honourable title. So you’re correct by saying you can’t offer me anything. Though you forgot one important thing, dear Y/N: you can offer me companionship, love, a meaningful bond between two souls.” Upon his last sentence, Polnareff tenderly grabs both of your hands in his, admiring how they seem to fit perfectly. Too astounded by his words, you let the man do as he pleases. Quickly, Polnareff catches on with his speech. “Please Y/N, let me see you again. Let me court you properly. I can give you and your family a beautiful life, a life you deserve.” The silver-haired male’s form moves now closer to yours, his blue eyes fixated on your lips. This action breaks you from the spell you’ve been caught in previously as you abruptly rip your hands off his grip and step back. 

“I’m sorry, Monsieur Polnareff,” you manage to say, your voice sounding breathless from the adrenaline rushing in your veins, “I don’t think I’m the right woman for you. I do not wish to disappoint you further, that’s why I’m being direct with you. I’m going home now, please do not seek out for me. Have a good evening, Monsieur Polnareff.” You give him one last glance, noting his furious facial expression, before you eventually walk rapidly the path up to your family’s farm. 

“I’ll be coming back, Mademoiselle Y/N!”, you hear the musketeer shouting behind you, “I’m not giving up that easily!” His sentences only make you pick up your pace as fear makes itself present in your body. Why couldn’t he just respect your choice? You’re sure there are enough suitable ladies in his rank pining for him, so why would he bother you? Finally, to your happiness, you arrive at the front door. Quickly, you enter your home, locking the door from the inside. Still, it feels as if a pair of blue eyes continues burning holes in your back…

The following month had been both positive and negative. Positive, because your family didn’t need to worry about food thanks to the two livres Polnareff gave you. Negative, because the latter had been true to his word and kept showing up at your place. Every time you told him you won’t change your mind, the musketeer only seemed to be more encouraged to prove you otherwise. 

Today isn’t any different. As you make your way to the market to buy some food, you hear the familiar hooves approaching you. Annoyed, you let out a sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Bonjour Y/N! What a pleasant day to see you again, mon amour!”, Polnareff exclaims happily while he dismounts from his horse to walk next to you. 

“Bonjour Polnareff”, you reply politely. In the meantime, you’ve dropped the titles when you two were alone, not seeing the point of them anymore. Plus, the Frenchman even decides to call you pet names, so why showing him respect? 

“Ah, ma puce, no need to be so cold today! After all, I bring some splendid news”, the Frenchman replies excitedly. You eye him suspiciously, brows knitted together. What on earth is he planning now?  

“And that would be?”, you answer matter-of-factly. “You’re finally leaving me alone?” 

“You see, before I came to meet you, I’ve finally talked with your parents.” At these words, you immediately stop your steps. A feeling of dread emerges in your stomach, making you feel sick. 

“Oh no,” you think desperately, “this can’t be good.” 

“Very lovely people, indeed. It hurts my feelings knowing you haven’t invited me to them, mon cœur”, Polnareff continues his talk, a hand put on his chest in mock concern. 

“And why should I have done such thing?”, you reply coolly, though internally you’re freaking out. You already know you won’t like the answer… 

“My dearest, how come you act so cruel? Don’t you think your future husband should see your parents? After all, we’re betrothed now!” 

“No”, you retort without thinking. Your palms grow sweaty, a deep fear manifesting in your body. The silver-haired man smirks at your reaction. 

“Non? I think your parents disagree with you, ma chérie. In fact, we’ve already picked out a date for the ceremony. Can you believe it? In two months, we’ll be finally one.” Panic overflows your mind, your breathing becoming laboured. How could your parents decide on such a matter behind your bag? After everything you’ve done for your family? Polnareff notices your stress as he softly wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to his chest. The musketeer tries to comfort you by shushing you and gently brushing over your back, though his actions only fuel your terror. You squirm in his grasp, trying to escape him, escape this situation, but his grip on you only strengthens. 

“Let me go!”, you scream all while tears stream down your cheeks, “I don’t want to be with you! Why can’t you just accept that?” 

“My little Y/N,” Polnareff mumbles calmly, “if you hadn’t  been so stubborn, we could have discussed the wedding plans together. I know you think our union is not favourable, but if even your family agrees to it, it surely can’t be that wrong, hm? You’re so blinded by your little provincial life that you can’t see what’s best for you. And trust me, my dove, I’m the best choice.” The Frenchman grabs your chin, staring lovingly in your by now puffy eyes. “It’s fine if you need some time to realise that. As long as you remain by my side.” With these words, the silver-haired man puts his mouth on yours, his hand now wandering to your cheek. You wriggle harder in his grasp, though your attempts to escape remain futile. Tenderly, Polnareff caresses your face as his lips finally leave yours. 

“Je t’aime de tout mon cœur, mon ange*”, he whispers adoringly, pressing your face against his chest again. Your tears smudge the blue fabric of his tunic, your voice hoarse from screaming. And even though you wish this is but a nightmare, you start comprehending you’re truly trapped in Polnareff’s oh so loving arms for the rest of your life.

*former French currency. 2 livres are about 30 euros, which was a lot of money back then

*former French currency. 5 sous are about 3,70 euros, which was still quite some money back in the day

*”I love you with all my heart, my angel”

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #yandere jojo #yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere jjba x reader #yandere polnareff #yandere polnareff x reader #minors dni #tw: yandere #tw: arranged marriage #tw: noncon touching

[swtltlmrvlgrl]

Accidents Happen

Summary:

The story is set in an alternative MC universe where Tony Stark is still alive and is paying for Peter Parker’s college tuition fees. The college life is not really something that he looks forward to, especially when he’s far away from Ned and MJ. But luckily he was able to meet the reader!

This story is part of my one-shot compilations inspired by the song “You Shine” from the musical “Carrie”, wherein two people see the way each other shines.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Fluff, awkward university students, accident, injury

Word Count: 2,906

First Day of School. Peter Parker cringes at the thought. It’s not that he hates school, he just feels uneasy at the thought that he’s new and he doesn’t have his friends, Ned and MJ, with him.

And I’m Spider-Man, I have better things to do, he thought.

If it wasn’t for his promise to Mr. Stark, to finish his college degree in exchange for full access to the Avengers Compound and all the tech that comes with it, he would’ve webbed his way out of the school before he could even get in the school.

Tony Stark, a genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist, initially wanted to enroll Peter in the most elite school in America but good thing Peter was able to convince him not too. With the looks of how the students dress up and the amount of cars outside the parking area, this would’ve gotten much worse if he followed Mr. Stark’s initial plan. Peter adjusts his second-hand, thrift-store-bought backpack and walks straight towards his classroom.

Before entering the classroom, he double checks the text written on his ID to see if it matches the name of the room. He slowly enters the room and lo-and-behold, a classroom that can be converted to an IMAX movie theater, welcomes him.

He scans the room and decides to sit on the desk located a few meters away from the exit door. With his elbow on the desk and his chin resting on the palm of his hand, he observes the students already forming groups amongst themselves. Peter made no attempt to join a clique or to join any group, just looking at his wrinkled plaid shirt over his 5-year old white shirt, he knows he doesn’t belong. But he knows that’s not enough of a reason to just stop making new friends.

You’re an Avenger, man. With all the courage that he could muster, he scans the room and tries to find at least one person who hasn't had any chance to make friends yet.

Before he could turn around to check if the seat behind him is also empty, you walk towards Peter’s direction. You were wearing a blue oversized sweatshirt. A tinge of reds were peaking through the gaps between the folds of your black denim pants and white sneakers also caught Peter’s attention.

This is my chance.

Before Peter could even speak with you, a voice coming from the professor disrupted Peter’s plans.

“Hi class. Good morning.” The professor flashes his name and the subject name on the screen of the projector. “For today, I will be discussing the syllabus, I think we’ll finish early. I won’t be sharing the soft copy of my slide, so please take down notes.”

Bummed that he wasn’t able to talk to you, Peter made a mental note to at least try to start a conversation with you after class. He then rummages through his things, only to realize that he wasn’t able to bring any pens. He vaguely remembers Aunt May borrowing it earlier, but he’s not really sure if she was able to return it. “Oh no.” He whispers and takes out his notebook instead.

Peter is in the middle of pretending that he’s taking down notes, when he feels a soft tap on his shoulders.

“You can borrow this if you want.” You offer a ballpen to Peter.

Peter is taken aback by this sudden interaction.

“Ah!” You exclaim. “Don’t worry, the case is pink but the ink’s black.”

“T-thanks.” Peter stuttered. “I - I don’t mind the color.”

I don’t mind the color?? What the hell does that mean?! Peter smiles at your direction while mentally cursing at his awkward self on the inside.

-----

The professor finishes up his lecture and you start to fix up your things.

“Thank you for this.” Peter interrupts, while you were in the middle of putting your notebook in your black leather backpack. “I-I left my pen at home and -” With his left hand, he rubs his nape, as he hands you the pen with his right. “I’m Peter, by the way, Peter Parker.”

“Y/N. Y/N, L/N.” You respond and push back the pen. “You can have the pen for a while. You’ll probably need that for your next classes.”

“Oh. Uh!.” That… makes sense. Not gonna lie, Peter was a little surprised by your response, he definitely did not include that in his list of possible scenarios. “Right. I’ll just return this tomorrow.”

“Sure! What time’s your lunch tomorrow?” You ask, as the two of you walk out of the room. “My lunch time is...” He looks at the back of his ID, “a little early… 11:30AM. How about you?”

“Ow. Too bad. Mine’s 12nn.”

Your small pout wasn’t left unnoticed (and it was a little cute and Peter couldn’t help but smile.) “Wanna compare schedules?” Peter asks.

“Sure!” you answer excitedly.

“So…” Peter scans your schedule. "We’re classmates in… Literature… and…”

“History.” You add. The two of you looked at each other and smiled.

“I guess we’ll see each other a lot?” Peter comments.

“Yeah. I hope so.” You answer and smile at him.

-----

The two of you started eating together ever since the day returned the pen to you. Seating next to Peter is probably one of the best decisions that you made in your life. Having someone to eat with during lunch time was a thorn out of your chest because eating alone is one of your fears.

Generally, it takes a long time before you can adjust yourself to someone (contrary to the popular belief that you’re “friendly’), but Peter’s obvious awkwardness and warmth just made it more comfortable for you. Knowing that someone is as shy as you, but still trying to converse with you is something that you really appreciate 0 it makes you want to try to converse too.

From having lunch together, you two ended up walking home together, as well. Some days you would wait for him, some days he would wait for you and then some days he has to go earlier because he had something to do for Mr. Stark. Walking home together wasn’t really something that you explicitly told each other to do, it just felt like a natural thing to do.

“Hey.” you say, one day. “Let’s go to the clinic on our way home.”

“Why?” Peter asks, his voice sounds a little worried.“ Do you feel sick?”

You don’t answer and continue walking instead. After arriving at the clinic, you open the door and Mary, the University nurse, greets you with a warm smile.

“Y/N! What’s up?” Mary inquires.

“Hi Mary!” You stride inside and Peter follows. “Can I have some of your bandages?”

“Sure! Why? Don’t tell me you got injured again.” Mary echoes your soft chuckle. “No, not me this time.”

Mary pauses whatever she’s doing and observes you, as you point at the empty chair to where Peter can sit while you look for the bandages in the cabinet. Peter looks a little confused. With a white square bag in one hand, you approach the chair where Peter was seated.

“Give me your hand.” You instruct Peter, he hands you his left hand. “Your other hand, you silly.” You smile.

“I don’t think -” The pain he felt after you touch his right hand stops him mid-sentence.

“Sorry.” You whisper. Peter was wearing a long-sleeved flannel shirt that you had to slide up. His hand is swollen as you expected.

“I-” Peter starts. “I fell from the stairs.” Of course that is a lie. Because, he, in fact, fell from a building because he was running late for Literature class. He didn’t really mind it, because it happens all the time and he knows he’ll heal eventually.

You gently place a cold compress on Peter’s hand. “I noticed that you were having a hard time writing a while ago.” You pause for a while and look at him. “You don’t have to explain anything Peter. Plus, since you injured your dominant hand, I just thought you might need help with wrapping this up.”

“My mom’s a nurse.” You mention, while wrapping the bandage around Peter’s hand. “We used to pretend to be injured and wrap bandages during play time.”

Peter hums, amused. “You’re amazing, you know.” He comments. “You’ve always been like this since the day we first met. It’s like, you can read my mind.”

You laugh. “I don’t know why, but I always get that comment about me.” You pull down and button up Peter’s Sleeve. “But I don’t think I’m amazing, though.”

Before Peter could say anything, you stand up, fix the chair and return the bandage to where you got it. “Let’s go home?”

Peter nods and you bid goodbye to Mary.

“Bye, Mary. Thanks.” Peter echoes and waves his hand briefly.

“Take care, you two.” Mary responds.

-----

On your way home, Peter stops in his tracks and points at the ice cream truck by the park. “Hey. Let’s get some ice cream. Sit by the bench over there.” He pauses and looks at you. “I’ll go get you some. My treat.” He winks and runs towards the truck.

You sit down on the bench located under a tree, stretch your arms a little while taking a breath of fresh air. A few moments later, you see Peter striding towards the bench. He stops in front of you, with two ice creams in his left hand - his fingers strategically intertwined to make sure the ice creams won’t fall down. One of the ice cream was probably cookies and cream flavored and the other one was chocolate for sure.

“You know” You comment, as you reach out for what you assume as the cookies and cream flavored ice cream. “If you can hold two ice cream cones in one hand you should might as well try to write with it.”

Peter laughs and sits next to you and hands you a paper towel. “I’ll put that on my to-do list.”

You grab the paper towel that Peter handed you and the two of you proceed eating. You were silent for a whole minute until Peter started speaking again.

“I still think you’re amazing though.” Peter comments. While you were focusing on eating your ice cream, he looked at you briefly and looked away when you started laughing.

“Why are you bringing up that topic again?” A layer of ice cream got stuck on your throat making you cough a little, you clear your throat, and continue. “I don’t think being… hmm… how should I call this?” You pause to think for a second. “Sensitive? I don’t think it’s something amazing.”

“Why is that?” Peter was curious. “It’s like you’re a mind-reader! It’s amazing!”

You chuckle. “Why? Are you going to recruit me to the Avengers or something?”

Did she notice that I’m Spider-Man, too? “Hehe-he.” Peter laughs awkwardly and continues eating his ice cream.

“But seriously though.” You continue, while chewing some of the ice cream cone bits in your mouth. “As much as being...err...hyper-sensitive with other people’s non-verbal nuances is a good thing, especially when I have a friend like Peter Parker who tends to keep their struggles to themselves.”

“Hey! I don’t do that…”

You glare at him, smile a little and take a deep breath. “It’s not particularly amazing when I have to stand in front of many people…” You finish up with your ice cream and crumple the piece of paper towel on your hand. “...and notice every little change in expression each time you utter a word… Or when you sit alone in the middle of crowded places and just feel the eyes of people staring at you, judging you.” You look at Peter and smile a little more as you try to make it look like it’s not that big of an issue.

Peter had finished his ice cream as well. “Y/N…” Peter might not be as sensitive as you, but he looks at you as if he sees beyond your half-hearted smile. Peter moves and scoots closer to you while adjusting himself to face you. He takes your hand, opens it, and takes the balled up paper towel that you’ve been gripping while you were speaking. With his left hand, he puts the paper towel into his bag’s side pocket, while making sure that his right hand never left yours.

“I’m sorry… I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable.” You look at Peter. He was gazing at you, looking straight into your eyes.

“It’s fine, Peter. It’s not like you -”

“Y/N.” Peter cuts you off. “Whether or not I wanted to, I made you feel uncomfortable and I have to apologize. Okay?” Peter pauses. “Can you promise me one thing?”

“What is it?” You ask.

“I - I’m not as sensitive as you and I might not always notice whether you feel bad or not.” Peter continues. “If it’s alright with you… can you promise to not hide your feelings when you’re with me? I mean - it’s difficult, you know. Having to hide your feelings all the time. At least if you’re with me… even if it’s for a short time, you don’t have to carry the burden of hiding it.”

You smile at Peter, tears welling up on your eyes. “Peter…”

“But if you’re not comfortable with that, it’s fine -”

You release your hand from Peter’s hand, form a fist and raise your pinky finger. “I promise.”

Peter smiles and entangles his pinky finger into yours. “Promise.”

“Just promise that you won’t fall down the stairs again.” You joke.

Peter chuckles while reaching out for your face to wipe the tear that you didn’t notice fall from your eye.

“If you have presentations where you have to speak in front of the class, whether I’m your classmate or not, I’ll try to be there and maybe you can try to focus on me?” Peter clears his throat. “I mean… just to keep your attention out of the other people.”

You laugh and Peter joins you too. “Thanks, Pete.”

-----

“I have something to buy at the grocery.” You tell Peter while the two of you are waiting for the traffic light to turn green. “You can go ahead.”

“Take care!” Peter shouts as the two of you go your separate ways.

“You too!” You shout back and make your way towards the grocery.

Peter waits until you’re out of sight before he goes to the alleyway to change into his suit and start his patrol. He webs his way up the building and gets a glimpse of you entering the grocery. He nods a little and webs away to find people he needs to help out.

-----

Normal. That’s what Peter would probably describe the first hour of his patrol today - stopping thieves from running away, saving cats that got stuck on a tree and telling a lost man the directions. It was all just normal everyday, neighborhood Spider-Man things.

He was about to take a break when he felt the hair in his arms stand up.

Peter tingle.

“Y/N!” He exclaims as he hurries down towards the direction of the grocery where he last saw you.

I hope I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong. He repeats in his head. Y/N, please, please be safe.

-----

You were on your way to cross the street when a running child and stumbled into you, causing your groceries to fall down. You squat to pick up the groceries, you look up to search for the child, only to find him still running.

Towards the pedestrian lane.

Red light.

Huge truck.

Fast.

You stand up and dash towards the kid, leaving your groceries scattered across the pavement.

Will I make it?

You run as fast as you can.

I won’t make it. The truck’s too fast.

You run faster.

A little more.

You reach for him and you push him towards (what you think is) safety as hard as hard as you can. All the energy in your body had left you and the last thing you can remember was the loud honk from the truck and then everything was silent.

-----

Your eyes are still closed when you feel an arm tightly wrapped around you. You look up only to find yourself swinging in the air while being held and carried by none other than Spider-Man.

The two of you reach what seems to be the top of some building, you're not even sure what building it is because everything happened so fast.

Spider-Man put you down at last.

“Thank you.” You tell him as you pat down and straighten your clothes. “I’m sorry you had to...carry me. Is the - uhm - is the kid safe?” You ask him.

Spider-Man chuckles. “You were literally about to die a while ago and the first thing you think of is the well-being of other people.” He sighs. “Are YOU okay?”

You pause for a second to the sudden idea that popped into your mind while you're face-to-face with THE Spider-Man.

Familiar.

Oddly familiar.

His voice is a little muffled, but you know that voice. You hear that voice every day. And that height. You take a step forward. That scent.

That warmth.

“Peter?” You step closer to the man that you’re 90% sure is your friend, Peter Parker, dressed in the Spider-Man costume. “Is that you?”

A/N: It's my first time writing for Peter Parker! How was it?? Haha. I hope I did his character justice.

I'm so excited to write five different stories with different pairings inspired from the song "You Shine". I haven't watched the musical but whenever I hear that song, I feel so encouraged and it makes me feel assured that somewhere out there, there are people who can see good things in me that I can't see for myself. Next up, Bucky Barnes x Reader! Look forward to it!

Masterlist

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker reader-insert #peter parker x you #peter parker and reader #peter parker fanart #peter parker oneshot #peter parker college au #spider-man x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman reader-insert #spiderman fluff #peter parker x y/n college au #peter parker imagines #peter parker fanfic #tony stark is alive

[cacoetheswriting]

little riddle

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: gossip / rumours, talk of tattoos, a lil mutual pining, mainly fluff word count: 1.9k summary: crude workplace gossip brings you and spencer even closer. 

a/n: this is a follow up to little mystery. you don’t necessarily need to read the first part, but it will give you some context/background if you do.

-

News of the friendly little tattoo bet spread through the office like wildfire. And the news of who won was like adding gasoline to the heavily burning flame considering the risqué nature of your secret ink.

The thing about rumours is they don’t always start out that way.

Half the time it is simply an overheard conversation between friends, in this case also colleagues. The snippet is usually taken out of context. Passed from person to person to person until it spirals out of control and transforms into an unverified information statement. A believable one at that.

You were no stranger to workplace gossip, and truthfully it never bothered you. People will say what they want to say. Think what they want to think. It was a useless affair to try and stop them, or change their mind. Therefore, you never batted an eye.

Until now.

The current story going around didn't just involve you. It also focused on a certain young doctor who took things extremely literally, and often to heart.

Watching people walk through the bullpen whispering to one another, pointing fingers, and giggling. That sort of behaviour made you really angry. Primarily because you knew how to protect yourself and your feelings, but Spencer didn't quite grasp the concept of a rumour.

He currently sat slouching at his desk thinking he did something wrong.

With a soft sigh, you swiftly got to your feet and ambled towards him. Gently, you placed one hand on his shoulder causing him to glance up and meet your gaze. His lips pursed into an awkward half-smile.

“What do you say we get out of here? Maybe grab a quick bite to eat?” you suggested, raising a brow.

Spencer briefly glanced between the couple of agents currently looking at the two of you, whispering to one another. He nervously cleared his throat, and proceeded to slowly nod his head.

Once he stood up, you linked your arms together, unafraid of the judgemental stares.

Spencer on the other hand tensed under your touch, under your sudden closeness, under the lingering gaze of the gossiping agents. You noticed it instantly, and leaned in slightly so that your lips were at his ear.

“Don’t pay attention to them. They’re just jealous.” you whispered with a small smile.

The young doctor huffed quietly, clearly confused. “I don’t understand. Why would they be jealous?”

“Because you’ve seen what no other person in this sad joint has seen.” you teased, hoping it would lighten the mood just a little. It didn’t.

Spencer furrowed his brows together. “You mean the tattoo? If I knew it would cause this much drama I would have kept my mouth shut.”

“Don’t talk like that, doc. I’m glad you won the bet, I’m glad you got to see the tattoo, and I’m glad it’s you and me they’re talking about.” you reassured him as best you could, waiting for the elevator.

The metal machine appears momentarily and the two of you stepped inside. It was then you let go of his arm and leaned against the wall. Spencer slid his hands into the pockets of his pants, confusion still visible on his features.

“Why are you glad they're talking about us, Y/N?”

You shrugged. “Gotta make the best out of every situation, right? Plus, doc, I’m quite flattered they think I have a chance with someone like you.” you smiled, as his eyes widened.

Nervously, Spencer twitched his nose. “I-I... You-u think ehm, you think I’m out of your league?”

You nodded. “Of course! You’re incredibly smart, unknowingly funny, and not to mention really handsome. I’d be very lucky if you even considered being with someone like me.”

The young doctor wasn't entirely sure whether you meant what you said, or if perhaps you were just trying to cheer him up. Either way, it was the confidence boost he needed. His whole body instantly relaxed and his lips twirled upwards.

“I’d be the lucky one, Y/N.” he stated, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Blood rushed to your face at the comment. You bit down on your bottom lip and simply stared at the man ahead, getting completely lost in his golden-eyes.

-

“Do I have something on my face?” you asked while bringing one hand up to your cheek, ready to wipe any crumbs away.

The young doctor quickly shook his head. “N-no... I-I ehm, I was just thinking.”

“About what?” you pried.

Spencer swallowed his breath. “Why don’t you want to know how I found out about your secret tattoo?” he asked in a low tone, and as soon as the question escaped his lips, he looked down at his empty plate, suddenly afraid of what your answer might be.

You observed him for a moment. The honest answer was you liked the mystery of not knowing. Spencer was always full of surprises, which is one of the many things you adored about him. To you, it didn’t matter how he found out.

The young doctor however, always liked to have all of the answers and you knew the topic would continue to bother him.

Dropping your fork, you placed your elbows on the edge of the table and rested your head in the palms of your hands. “Tell you what, doctor...” you began, grabbing his attention. He looked back up at you. “How about I guess how you knew? It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

The idea seemed to interest Spencer because his ears perked up and a timid smile circled his lips.

“But I’m gonna need some sort of clue because I am nowhere near as smart as you.” you added with a smirk, and he nodded.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, just smiling at one another. An unfamiliar, yet unmistakably happy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach as his eyes searched yours with such amity you thought you would melt into your chair at any given second.

“So,” you cleared your throat, “What’s my clue?”

Spencer pursed his lips.

You could see the wheels turning, as he took his time to think of something that wouldn’t be too hard for you to guess. He would never underestimate your intelligence, and in all honesty Spencer had a feeling you probably already had the answer, you were just giving him the benefit of the doubt. Always putting him first. He couldn’t help but chew on the inside of his cheek, containing the goofy smile the thought brought.

“It is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of the end and the end of every space. What is it?” Spencer asked, and you furrowed your brows.

“Are you seriously giving me a riddle right now?” you gawked, “That’s my clue?”

“You said not to make it easy on you,” he pointed out, and you were slightly taken aback by his sudden confidence. It was a good look on him, confidence. You took a mental note to point it out to him later.

“Touché.”

-

The riddle played on your mind the rest of the afternoon. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t interfere with your work just a little.

Leaning back in your chair, fiddling with the pen in your hand, you silently mouthed the words to yourself over and over again - trying to make sense of what the answer was.

The first to notice the contemplation spread across your features was Morgan. He approached your desk, propping himself against the item and crossing his arms. Your eyes snapped up and you immediately took note of the grin circling his lips.

“What’s on your mind, pretty lady?”

“A riddle.” you answered honestly.

Derek furrowed his brows. “A riddle?”

You nodded.

“Well, care to share? Maybe I can be of some assistance.” Morgan offered, leaning down towards you for a brief second.

“No,” you hummed, “I think I got this.”

Derek rolled his eyes, scoffing. “You and your secrets.”

The comment made you chuckle, but before you got to say anything back, Morgan continued, “I thought the mysteries ended when Elle left. The two of you always giggling and whispering to one another.”

Your eyes widened a little and you hopped on your feet. The action seemingly insignificant, but enough to alarm the man leaning against your desk.

“What?” he asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

You shook your head, a wide smile appearing on your face. “No. You said something exactly right.” And with that you were rushing out of the bullpen, in search for the young doctor.

You found him about five minutes later in the file room, too deep in thought to even hear you approach, so he just about jumped out of his skin when you walked up behind him and exclaimed: “The letter E!”

Spencer turned on his heel to face you. Palms of his hands instantly began to sweat when he registered how close you were standing to him.

“W-what?” he managed to breathe.

“It is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of the end and the end of every space,” you repeated the riddle before adding, “The answer is the letter E and the E is for Elle! Elle told you, didn’t she?!”

Spencer gaped at you for a moment, taking note of the giddy look in your eyes and the proud smile. He then proceeded to inhale a whiff of your perfume which was now overpowering all of his senses.

“Spencer, did Elle tell you?” you enquired, poking his arm, and in turn dragging him back to earth.

The young doctor quickly nodded his head. “Y-yes. She did.”

“Why? I mean… How does that even come up in conversation?” you weren’t angry, no. As far as Spencer could tell you were just curious.

“Because, uhm... She said if I-I knew something... intimate... about you...” he paused and swallowed his breath, “... I would have an easier time asking you out.”

As soon as the confession escaped his lips, he inhaled a sharp breath and waited. Waited for you to tell him you don’t want to go out with him before apologising and walking out, leaving him all alone to wallow. But that never happened.

Instead, your hand was now grasping his, your thumb gently rubbing circles into his burning skin. Spencer’s knees buckled at your touch, and he hoped you didn’t see the slight shake.

“Why didn’t you? Ask me, I mean.” you wondered, breaking the silence.

“B-because I didn’t think you liked me like that.” Spencer replied, exhaling the breath he was holding.

You licked your lips and smiled at the brunette doctor. “Well, I think you should ask me now.”

“Uhm...” he swore if his heart was beating any faster it would explode, which was not entirely impossible, “Y/N, would you- do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

Smiling at him, you leaned upwards and placed your lips to his cheek. You kissed it gently before once again meeting his gaze, “I would love to.”

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @willowrose99, @blameitonthenight21

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #little mystery fic

[the-darklings]

—𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞;

⤫ pairing: johnny silverhand x corp!v(ermillion)

⤫ summary: Usually, they’re a calamity together—destructive and volatile as each other. But right now, just for a second, there is only music and them.

⤫ word count: 2.3k+

⤫ warnings: spoilers for act i & side mission the ballad of buck ravers, third person but can be read as RI ig, swearing, written in one sitting so who knows what the final result is - certainly not me. 

⤫ notes: let me leave my clown shoes outside.

It starts out the way it always does. 

One ring leads to another and she suddenly finds herself running or driving around the Night City with little to no rest, pulling one job after another. The more jobs she closes the more she seems to be in demand.

Good for business. Good for making a name for herself, too, but not so good on her overall being. 

She’s been running. Like a fucking coward. Filing her days with meaningless shit while trying desperately not to think about her ticking clock. About Jackie. 

Guilt gnaws on her bones daily. She should have done more, been better, more careful. Jackie never should have died. It was stupid and blind ambition that drove them both to try and pull this near impossible heist in the first place. Her own reckless drive has blinded her, and now the person closest to her in this fucking city is nothing more than a cold corpse. 

Fuck.

She should have sent him to his family instead. She only wanted to spare them from the grief of having to see Jackie in the state he was in but now Araska has his body and god knows what those assholes might be doing with it. 

And now…

Well she has nothing to lose, does she? She’s already dying, already hunted, her only close friend is dead. She promised to make him proud. Make it to the big leagues or make a league all on her own if that’s what it takes. Bleed this city dry if that’s the price to pay for what she wants. 

Back when she worked for Arasaka she wanted knowledge which led to power. Then she wanted guns and money and a roof over her head. 

Now she wants something more. After coming face to face with her own fragile morality, she has begun to realise how meaningless things like money and power are. Now she wants to surpass that. To become something immortal—something that will outlive her body. Maybe even outlive this city.  

Jackie should have been one of such people. 

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself,” a voice drawls from beside her, a crackle filling the air as a too familiar silhouette of a man appears in her sight. “Or cry.”

“Fuck off.”

V turns away from one Johnny Silverhand because it’s hard to look at him and not be reminded of the fact that she’s slowly dying and the construct only she can see and hear is the one doing the deed.

“This self-pitying bullshit needs to stop,” he says, ignoring her vicious words. “We share a brain, remember? I feel what you feel. It’s downright depressing in your head right now.”   

Her jaw clicks at the reminder. Everyday she wakes up and feels like they’re linked by a bridge—he stands on one side, and she on another. When they come closer, she can feel it—feel him. The overlap is near dizzying, overwhelming, even a little addictive. But it’s always followed by agony because she fights back, tries to shove him away. If not, he will consume her, but she will get him out of her head before that ever happens. 

You share a brain now, Vik had told her only days prior, his eyebrows knitted tight and—albeit subdued—but clear worry in his low voice, senses and memories, even perception. Eventually it will become impossible to tell whose who anymore. 

The worst thing is the fact that he’s right. 

She can feel Silverhand rooted inside her; a constant, a presence that is persistent to a point she knows she’s not alone even if she wishes to be. 

An echo of a being deep inside her.

“Then get the hell out,” she bites back, fighting to keep her temper leashed so she doesn’t burst out at him like she did at the diner. She can still remember the wary stares she received from the diners when she started shouting verbally at a figment only she could perceive in the first place. “I didn’t ask for a parasite to make himself home in my brain.”

Johnny scoffs under his breath, raising a cigarette to his mouth, and she’s nearly overcome with need to remind him that he’s fucking dead, and can’t smoke. That, and the fact that she would prefer him to leave her the fuck alone. 

“You did the job, didn’t ya? You sure you didn’t have this comin’?”

Flipping him off, she storms past him, her jaw clenched to appoint it aches and eyes narrowed. Just her luck not only to get stuck with a human tumour but for the said tumour to be a bastard to boot.  

So much for being buddies. 

Sun has set over Westbrook hours ago yet Chinatown is as busting with life as always. Overflowing with conversations all spoken in different languages, smells, distant gunshots, and people from all walks of life just trying to survive. Even during her years with the Arasaka, she never quite got used to the vastness of the Night City—not even when she was sure she was at the top. The way this city seems to breathe and fester day in and out; a living beast full of dangers and potential is unique. 

Lost in the crowd, it’s almost easy to forget who she is aside from another face in the said crowd. She’s not a merc, not an ex-corp working counterintelligence—she’s not anything. 

Her optics catch sight of several Tiger Claws lingering around the market, and she makes sure to give them a wide berth, especially when she notes the impressive list of their stats. She’s not stupid enough to attack outright when they outclass her—for now—and there are several of them around. With the market this busy the only outcome to that fight would be a bloodbath with police on her ass when that’s the last thing she needs right now. 

Despite that logical part inside her steering her well clear of the gang members the need to blow off some steam bubbles under her skin. An ache starts to form against her temple soon after, making her focus blur around the edges as she wanders from vendor to vendor aimlessly. 

“Hey, V,” a rumble of a voice cuts through her thoughts—and she hates how she can’t quite ignore his voice unlike everyone else—and turns her head in the direction of the call. She had foolishly assumed he was going to give her some peace of mind for tonight at least. “Check this guy out.”

Walking up a dimly lit staircase, she had barely noticed a man sitting on a rickety chair and playing a guitar. Much like her, others walk right past him, ignoring the man altogether. 

Johnny glimmers into sight, squatting in place and oddly intent on observing the old man while he plays.   

She entertains the idea of walking away simply to piss him off. If something is of interest to him, then she wants to ignore it so hard it gets under his nonexistent skin. Petty, perhaps, but ever so satisfying. 

Hearing no reply or receiving much reaction at all, Johnny slants his head her way, nodding once towards the man, “What do you think?”

Squinting, she drags her gaze towards the guitarist, crossing her arms over her chest while she listens. She’s not even sure why she’s bothering but…

The melody is slow, near drowned out by the bustling sounds of the nearby market and chatter of people walking past. 

“He’s...fine?” she offers lamely. “I mean he’s pretty good.”

A slight smirk crosses over Johnny’s mouth—gone in a blink but the focus he places on the man who seems to be unaware of her or the silent second spectator surprises her. 

“Loses tempo more than he keeps it,” he comments, almost absently, and she feels her eyebrows arch in another show of bewilderment. A quiet spells falls over their little nook, and Johnny listens more, thoughts rolling inside his head if his body language is any sign. “Sloppy on the technique but he has feeling in the way he plays. Can’t teach that.”

“If only you didn’t die,” she sighs softly, closing her eyes in mock sympathy. “This could have been you.”

He surprises her again by laughing at that. It’s a deep rumble of a sound, and she can almost feel it echo between them and their mental bridge. “You’re kinda of a bitch. Has anyone told you that before?”

Her teeth flash in the dim orange glow of the neon lights. “And you’re sort of a dick. Anyone tell you that before?” she wonders with a charming, practiced smile. 

He flickers out of sight and she’s about to call it a mental victory but a tickle of electricity kisses across the bare curve of her shoulder and neck, and she shivers when he appears beside her. His arms are crossed as well, and he glances her way briefly.

“Seems to me like we’re two peas in a fuckin’ pot, then,” he points out easily, and shakes his head, seemingly amused by his own words. “I might have tried to kill you a few weeks ago but look at us being chummy, Ver.”

Her throat closes up at that, expression tightening. He notices of course. Or maybe it’s the unease that slices through her mind at the casual way he uses her nickname. 

“What? Am I not allowed to call you that or somethin’?” he wonders curiously, seemingly entertained by her reaction. Asshole. 

“Only my friends call me Ver.”

Jackie was the first. 

That thought makes her swallow painfully, a dull ache clawing against her heart. One would think that years being a corpo would have wiped whatever humanity still lived in her but Jackie’s death had been a stark reminder that she couldn’t be further from the truth if she tried.  

“Why?”

She gives him a flat look. “Because my full name is Vermillion, but people tend to find it a mouthful so…”

“Vermillion,” he repeats, his intonation dry, and she shoots him a quick glare, daring him to make an issue of it. Naturally, his next words don’t surprise her, “That’s a stupid fuckin’ name.”

“Oh, because Johnny Silverhand is so much better.”

She expects him to say something snarky in return, argue maybe, but he only snorts. His metal hand lifts, pushing his aviators down slightly as he glances at her over them.

“You got me there.” 

Usually, they’re a calamity together—destructive and volatile as each other. But right now, just for a second, there is only music and them. Shadows and life of the Night City holding them both suspended in this moment. No arguments or biting comments. No guilt, either. 

A slight smile tugs across her mouth as she continues listening to the man play his downbeat little tune. Her shoulders loosen, drooping slightly and she lets herself breathe for a moment. Just the one. 

“Used to be just like him,” Johnny speaks up suddenly, his voice more subdued, lower, and taps his fingers against the cigarette he’s holding. “But better. Used to play everywhere we could. Garages, bars. Anywhere that would have us, and we always had an audience.”

She hums, offering him a brief glance. “You mean you were actually good?”

She can’t see his eyes in the darkness of the street or through his tinted shades. But despite that, she can still feel his glare and the mental bite of chagrin/irritation/why is she so annoying? and deeper than that a spark of amusement/little shit thinks she’s funny. 

“What’s this?” he muses, his words sarcastic. “A corpo rat that actually has a sense of humour? Colour me surprised.”

“No can do,” she shoots back promptly, fighting back a wider grin. “You’re too dead for that.”

He tsks, throwing his cigarette to the ground and she almost rolls her eyes. “Can’t wait to be out of your damn head, princess.” 

“Can’t wait to be rid of you, either, so the feeling is mutual.”

Their words might be stringent but she can almost taste the faint amusement trickling between them and under that bridge that connects them. 

“There might still be some bootlegs of those old days,” he muses thoughtfully. “People used to record everything back in my day.”

She drags her gaze his way, lips thinning into a firm line, “I’m not becoming a fan, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Afraid you’ll hear real music and won’t be able to go back to this modern garbage I hear everywhere?”

There is challenge in his words and she bristles. Maybe this is what she needs. She may not be able to put holes in some Tiger Claws with her sniper rifle but she sure as hell can go on a scavenger hunt and see what she finds. 

Besides, it might help her to understand the man nested inside her mind a little better.

So when an hour later the old, wrinkly vendor asks her why he should give her his oldest, most precious Samurai vinyl, she tells him the truth. 

A twisted truth. 

But truth all the same.

“He’s with me every step I take, every move I make,” she confesses softly, something deep down breathing awake at that admittance. “Johnny’s like my conscience. My eternal, infernal moral compass.”  

She doesn’t miss how the man in question doesn’t appear, doesn’t say anything even after hearing that. She would have figured he would be the first in line to offer her some mocking, snarky comment but there is only silence. 

In fact, she can barely feel him at all. The tether between them is still and quiet. 

And his silence says a lot more than he probably realises. 

.

an: hello. guess whose not dead and kinda back to writing. dunno how much of cp77 you should expect because coa is still my priority but maybe occasional fic for these dumbos is on the cards. oh, and takemura because cdpr are cowards for not giving us that enemies to friends/partners to lovers romance. also I know this isn’t strictly RI and I honestly considered writing it as such but saw...no point? since the premise still would have been the same, so something a little different today ig. 

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand x female v #keanu reeves #johnny silverhand imagine #johnny silverhand fic #cyberpunk 2077 imagine #cyberpunk 2077 fic #c: vermillion #s: get out of my head

[mendespideys]

in need of saving | e.y.

pairing: eren yeager x reader 

warnings: mentions of fighting, swearing, blood, etc. it’s angsty

summary: eren’s emotions get the best of him and you’re his last hope. based on the line “you’ve been talking with your fists” from when you love someone by james tw.

a/n: this is my first ever drabble/fic/one-shot (whatever you wanna call it) of aot. my husband made me watch it, i became obsessed and now i am here putting my obsession into my writing lol. hope you guys like it. enjoy! 

also, to the people following me for marvel/sm content - i’m sorry lol

gif credit 

it was no secret that eren jaeger was slowly but surely losing it. maybe not losing it, but definitely losing his cool. and a lot more frequently than what everyone had deemed normal for him.

because it was also no secret that eren was known for losing it time and time again. everyone in the 104th cadet corps had seen the green-eyed boy pick a fight more than once - especially with jean. the two of them seemed to bubble with anger just at the sight of one another and no one really knew the real reason why. 

whether it was jean using what was definitely eren’s least favorite nickname he had ever gotten (suicidal maniac) or eren making a comment about the redhead being a coward - the two of them could barely get along on a good day. 

but, lately, everyone seemed to be getting on eren’s bad side. horse-face was no longer the only insult coming from him and it certainly was not the most cruel one that had slipped past his lips either. eren’s anger - or whatever it was - was no longer only focused jean. he seemed to be taking his feelings out on everyone. everyone except you. 

even the captain and the commander had been getting their fair share of snarky comments and attitudes from the titan shifter. while they were undoubtedly unable to hold their ground, eren was definitely crossing lines he shouldn’t have. 

and, so, you were forced into your current situation. 

“tch,” captain levi pushed himself off the table he had been leaning on. “the brat is out of control. while i have no problem beating the living shit out of him, i doubt more fighting is what he needs.”

hange nodded. “it seems he’s either too tired to heal himself or he chooses not to. his injuries are taking longer and longer to disappear. we have to do something before it’s too late.” 

before it’s too late. 

you shuddered. the thought of something happening to eren sent a shiver down your spine. worrying about him was like second nature to you and the only one who appeared to understand you was mikasa. 

“with all due respect, commander,” armin spoke up, his bright blue eyes studying the room before continuing. “we have all tried. he doesn’t want to listen to any of us. it’s pointless.”

a sigh fell from his lips, as a subconscious hand rubbed his bandaged shoulder. poor armin. even the innocent, genius best friend had been unlucky enough to experience eren’s wrath. 

“everyone but y/n.”

your eyes darted toward the mention of your name and you met captain levi’s steady gaze. you cowered under his intense stare, feeling other eyes on you as well. you cleared your throat, feeling a weird sense of pressure in the pit of your stomach. 

“i’ve tried, too,” you swallowed thickly, refusing to remember all the times you had tried to talk him. “i- he doesn’t want to listen.” 

“you haven’t really tried,” levi remarked. “the brat’s picking fights left and right. every little thing seems to set him off and you are the only one who can get him to stop. y/n, we all see the way he looks at you. eren might be humanity’s last hope, but right now, you’re his.” 

your heart was thumping in your chest. you had noticed the difference in eren’s actions toward you as well. the touches that lingered a little bit longer than normal, the longing stares he thought you never noticed, the way his anger practically melted away when his name left your lips... 

but to hear someone else confirm it aloud felt weird. foreign. because you had pushed those observations to the back of your mind, desperate not to over-analyze any of them. the two of you were just friends. 

a knock on the door startled you out of your messy web of thoughts. the door opened before either one of the superiors could give permission to do so, revealing a timid yet determined sasha. she addressed the whole room, but her brown eyes were on you. 

“um, sir, sorry to interrupt, but eren and jean are back at it again and i’m afraid neither one of them is stopping, sir.” 

no one seemed to notice the half-eaten potato clutched in her hand - or if they did, they chose not to mention it - as she saluted the captain and commander. you were already practically out of your seat before she could finish and the look from sasha that went unnoticed by everyone else certainly did not go unnoticed by you. 

you followed hot on her heels, your gaze fixated on her bobbing ponytail as she scurried through the hallways but your mind totally elsewhere. there was an uneasy feeling bubbling deep inside you and no matter what you told yourself, you couldn’t shake it. 

while eren did lack the ability to take control of his emotions and strategically plan out his next moves, his brute strength and impeccable hand-to-hand combat techniques made up for it. therefore, you were more worried about jean than eren, to say the least. 

so, to say you were surprised when you entered the field and laid eyes on the two was an understatement. the sight you had imagined and prepared yourself for was nowhere to be seen. instead, the one eren was injuring was himself. by the look of it, there definitely had been a fight between him and jean, but the latter was merely watching connie’s attempts at stopping the brunette. 

you came to a halt immediately, unsure of how to process the scene playing out in front of you. a trembling hand mutes a sob, which is now nothing more than a pained whimper as your eyes traveled up and down eren’s body, mentally assessing his injuries. 

his nose was definitely bleeding. this wasn’t an unusual sight as it tended to happened a lot during his early experiment stages with hange. but you weren’t prepared for the bruising that was already forming and there was no doubt in your mind that his nose was broken. 

his forehead was stained red as well, strands of his growing hair sticking to the sides of his face. it was impossible for you to appraise the extent of the damage as you were unable to determine the origin of the crimson liquid. 

everything seemed to happen in slow motion and too fast all at once. at the sight of the your group, connie’s attempts were replaced by captain levi’s with mikasa not far behind. hange made a beeline for jean, who was muttering frustrated nothings while rubbing his jaw. 

so eren had gotten a few hits in. 

a gentle nudge brought you back, once again, from the dark chaos within your mind. you met armin’s blue orbs, attempting to ignore the pure worry swimming within them. his eyebrows arched as a silent plea and you followed his gaze to where eren was wildly trashing against the captain. 

in any other situation, you would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. the captain’s height was a frequent talking point among your group and there was no denying how small he looked compared to eren’s towering frame. in any other situation, you also would not have bothered hiding how impressed you were with the captain’s ability to overpower the younger boy. 

“y/n-” levi warned, voice strained, as the bloodied boy continued to attempt resisting him. 

with a nod (to convince yourself or as a response to levi, you were unsure), your unsteady legs carried you toward the two of them. eren’s eyes were wild with determination, his nostrils flaring with anger. but you quickly realized when walking closer that there were a dozen other emotions pooling within his emerald orbs. 

“eren,” his name fell from your mouth with ease. skillfully, you maneuvered your hand around his flailing limbs, placing your palm on his swollen cheek. “eren, it’s okay. hey - stop, it’s okay, i’m here.” 

it was as if a boulder had fallen off his shoulders. his actions halted immediately and his entire body relaxed at the sound of your voice. you wouldn’t have believed the effect you had on him if you hadn’t just witnessed it. levi reluctantly let go of eren, still on stand-by in case the boy would try anything.

“y/n,” your name fell from his lips just as easily, his voice nothing more than a whisper. 

and just like that, he crumbled underneath your touch. you fell to the ground with him, ignoring the pain as your knees came in contact with the hardened dirt beneath you. bringing your other hand up as well, you trapped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. 

he didn’t try to look anywhere else. he couldn’t. the pained look he was giving you was almost too much and you resisted the urge to look away. his bottom lip was trembling, the slit in it leaking blood with every movement. you found yourself having to withstand the yearning to kiss the pain away. 

“eren, what’s going on with you?” you tried to maintain a steady voice but there was no doubt that everybody could pick up on the worry behind every word. “this is- you can’t keep doing this. you have done nothing but talk with your fists and you need to stop. you can’t go picking fights with everybody over the smallest things.”

eren didn’t respond. the mixture of dirt and blood - both dried and fresh - and the threat of nightfall made it hard to see, but the violent jerks of his body made it obvious: he was crying. your own tears fell as well as sob after sob raked through his body. 

“i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” you swallowed down your own cries, your mind focused on nothing but helping the heartbroken boy in your arms. “eren, i need you to talk to me. please?”

“w-why? you shouldn’t- i’m a monster. a stupid good-for-nothing bastard. you- why do you want to help me?”

anger coursed through your veins. you wanted to beat the living shit out of whoever had made him feel this way about himself. they had absolutely no right. eren’s cries echoed in the twilight. you didn’t check if your comrades were still an audience. frankly, you didn’t care. 

“you want to know why? because you’re human. because you have the abilities you have. because i truly believe you’re one of humanity’s last hopes. because you deserve to have someone believe in you the way you believe in saving all of us,” you inhaled deeply, overcome with emotion. “because i love you.” 

eren’s sobs stopped just like that; as if they had an off button that you just pushed. the momentary silence - which felt way longer than you would ever admit - was broken by a sound somewhere between a shaky sigh and a surprised gasp coming from eren. 

you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your confession. you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse and definitely not any embarrassment. maybe it was due to eren also showing vulnerability or maybe it was because you had practiced said confession more than once. 

you didn’t care. he knew. he knew now and that was all that mattered. 

his eyes searched your face. you weren’t sure for what, but you assumed for a sign of wether or not you were speaking the truth. your features held nothing but earnest as you returned his analyzing stare and it seemed to satisfy his silent investigation. 

“i feel- it’s too much. too much pressure. i don’t know what i’m doing anymore. i’m not- there has to be someone else. i-i can’t do it... so many people. they’re all dead because of me. i’m not strong enough to-” 

the last drops of self-control you had were eliminated by his proclamation. while it might have been difficult to comprehend for some, you had understood every word and with each broken sentence, your heart ached more and more. 

eren’s disjointed admissions were halted by your lips on his. you didn’t know where your newfound confidence had come from but you were grateful for its presence. his lips molded against yours almost instantly - so effortlessly. 

you ignored the taste of iron just as eren ignored the stinging from the cut on his lip. while the kiss was nowhere near being sexual, it was definitely more than just a peck. your lips moved together in pain and understand and love and relief. 

unwillingly, you pulled away. suddenly aware that you more than likely still had an audience, the fresh evening air felt good against your flushed cheeks. the two of you remained silent, attempting to revert your breathing patterns back to normal. 

eren rested his forehead against yours. you were sure sasha could practically hear the way your heart was stammering in your chest. and if not, eren definitely could. with each thump, your chest tightened and you were sure that if human bodies had not been designed with rib cages, your heart would have been long gone. 

your thumb caressed his cheek, his fresh tears smearing with the dried crimson in the process. a gust of wind took ahold of the few pieces of hair framing your face. eren gingerly grabbed the loose strands, tucking them behind your ear. he had done so countless times before, but something just felt different this time around. 

“i love you, too,” he whispered, the previous insecurities long gone from his voice. he had never spoken truer words. 

you smiled. “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? and i think you might owe someone an apology.” 

eren’s limbs ached and although he didn’t want to admit to that, his body betrayed him. he had just barely stood back up when his trembling legs buckled. he prepared to meet the cold ground and the pain that would ensue, but a pair of hands caught him before it happened. 

you were just as surprised as eren appeared to be as levi attempted to steady him. it seemed the captain hadn’t ventured far. hyper aware that he probably had heard every word shared between you and eren, you didn’t dare meet his eyes. 

you sprung into action immediately, moving to eren’s other side. he winced as you navigated his arm around your shoulders, causing you to sputter out apologies while doing so. captain levi’s amusement didn’t go unnoticed by you or eren, but neither of you decided to comment on it. 

with you and captain levi both being significantly shorter than eren, supporting his weight was easier said than done. after some trial and error, though, the three of you were able to move almost seamlessly. 

eren’s strength was wavering by the second, you could tell, but he had enough left to come to a halt when you neared his most recent victim. you met jean’s eyes, hoping he could sense how apologetic you were. he confirmed with a nod then turned his attention to the boy who seemed to be getting heavier and heavier in your arms. 

“i’m sorry, jean, i-i honestly don’t even know... i’m sorry.”

“what? no ‘horse-face’?” the redhead chuckled, almost sadly. you realized that they had already cleaned him up. “don’t worry about it, eren. you did more damage to yourself than me anyway.” 

jean placed a hand on eren’s arm that was thrown over your shoulder. the interaction was brief but seemed to mean a lot to the both of them. then, they nodded and jean walked back toward the remainder of the group. sasha and connie were both saying words to him that you couldn't hear. 

you could feel the distressed stares that armin and mikasa were both sending in your direction. you gave them a nod, promising that their childhood friend was okay. he would be, at least. you had already made it your mission to ensure it. 

as you and captain levi hauled eren toward his dorm, the severity of the situation began feeling heavy on your shoulders. eren had definitely broken more than a few rules and you were sure captain levi would make sure he was punished for his insubordination. 

you weren’t entirely sure you would be off the hook either. sure, you hadn’t broken rules or gone against direct orders, but you hadn’t exactly abided either. captain levi could easily find a reason for why you should receive punishment as well and no one would even question it. 

captain levi’s steel eyes followed your every move as you opened the door to eren’s room, you could feel it. it didn’t feel like his typical burning glare but you couldn’t quite place your finger on the emotion behind the action either. 

as if sensing your thoughts that were now moving a hundred miles a minute, a groan came from eren. you watched them both quietly as captain levi managed to plop eren down on the chair you had placed next to the bath. another groan escaped the green-eyed boy and you could tell he was exhausted and in pain.

“captain, i’m-”

“tch. save it, brat. we have all been there and if they haven’t, they will. i’m surprised it took you this long. you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, kid,” levi interrupted, turning his attention toward you. “y/n, i trust you’ll take good care of humanity’s last hope. i’ll see the both of you at breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“i- yes, sir.” 

captain levi left without another word, leaving you and eren alone for the first time all day. you suddenly felt hesitant, unsure of what to do next. eren’s grunts of frustration filled the silent room as he began - well, tried to anyway - removing his tunic. 

you swatted his hands away gently, removing the article of clothing with ease. you had seen eren’s bare body before but you were still just as awestruck. this time, though, his skin was littered with scrapes, cuts and bruises of almost every color imaginable. you swallowed the urge to yell at him. 

the silence continued as you washed his body ever-so-gently. once you had been able to get him into the tub, that is. more than once, you had to momentarily stop your actions to check if eren had either fallen asleep or passed out. 

every time, his eyelids would flutter open instinctively, as if missing the warmth of your touch the second it disappeared. his green eyes would widen until they landed on you and he would relax, his lids falling shut once again. 

the silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was filled with unspoken words of gratitude and affection. the two of you enjoyed it to the fullest - maybe even a little too much. reluctantly, you stopped running your fingers through his brown locks that never seemed to stop growing. 

eren didn’t protest when you told him it was time to get out despite how much he wanted to. he also didn’t protest and tried his best to help when you began putting a change of clothes on him. he didn’t protest when you whispered it was time for bed, either. 

he did protest when you attempted to take your leave, however. 

“stay,” it was a soft plea that pulled on your heartstrings. “please?”

and, so, you climbed into bed with him without hesitation. he nuzzled into the crook of your neck so quickly that it seemed like second-nature to him and was asleep within minutes, his soft snores the only sound within range. 

well, you had definitely broken rules now. but you decided that eren sleeping next to you was more than worth whatever form of discipline captain levi could ever devise. you would handle whatever it was with pride if it meant you could stay like this forever. 

/ / / / / 

ok, um, this didn’t exactly go where i had envisioned it to but i’m not really mad? idk. i had to put some levi x eren in there bc i live for their mentor/mentee relationship. if you made it this far, please send me some asks and let me know what you thought 🥺

#aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger x reader #reader x aot #aot x reader #levi ackerman #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #sasha braus #sasha blouse #connie springer #jean kirstein #hange zoë #reader x eren jaeger #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yeager x y/n #snk x reader