#go sit in the lectures without taking the exams in the end | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gorejo · 7 months

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▸ I'LL MEET YOU FOREVER IN THIS MEMORY. - GOJO SATORU. forbes30!gojo

synopsis: he'll argue it's fate — a divine moment — that he's always in your proximity, and you call it bullshit. he says his class was in the same building, panting with a sweat pebbling on his forehead, yet you've seen him run across campus just couple minutes prior as he awkwardly stood in front of you. he's a man on a mission, determined to succeed. to have you finally fall for him.

content: wc: 6.6 k (sigh), fluff, light cursing, uses of she/her to align with the original au but the fic can be read without it. reader lovingly calls him stupid for one part and is shorter than him because the man is canonically tall af. petnames (babe, sweetheart, angel). slight nsfw towards the end, Gojo calls himself daddy in one scene just for jokes. college forbes30!gojo !!

There was nothing but the sound of chalk hitting the board, the frustrated sighs of students trying to keep up, and the monotonous tone of Takashi sensei talking that filled the lecture hall.

Students hastily typed on their electronics, while others chose to go old-fashioned with simple pen and paper.

But for Gojo Satoru, none of that mattered, really.

11:47.

Impatiently shaking his legs, his body just barely fitting in the cramped seat, uncaring if the attendant in front of him sent multiple glares for his crude manner of bumping his knees against the back — why the hell were these spaces always so damn cramped?

Satoru released another long sigh as he clicked open his phone to check the time, again.

Infuriatingly, it was still fucking 11:47.

It'll take me about six minutes to get to the quad, and another five to make it to the east building...

“Dammit,” Satoru cursed, his supposed whisper radiating a bit too loudly throughout the silent hall as he slumped further into his seat groaning as his impatience imbued his mind with thoughts.

One more minute and it’ll be just enough time to make it over —

“Gojo-kun,” releasing an annoyed sigh, “would you mind sharing with the class what could’ve gotten you so possibly worked up today?” his professor questioned without even turning his back to look at who just so rudely interrupted his class — again.

What excuse should I make today? Maybe I can leave now and act as if —

“Gojo-kun?” The professor's voice laced with irritation as he put the chalk down, the click of the powder hitting the rail echoed throughout the auditorium — no one dared to speak a word — not especially when the semester was so close to ending.

“Can you answer this question because you seem to be awfully more interested in something else rather than studying for your exam tomorrow?”

maybe I can ask her to study for finals? Oh, that’s good… I can show how studious and dependable I am, and then maybe she’ll fall for me. Goddamn call me a genius! But wait — fuck, I can’t use that because —

“Satoru, uh… sensei's coming,” Gojo felt a nudge on his side, his colleague nervously squirming in his seat, whispering to get his attention but yet it went unacknowledged — far over Satoru’s head — surely, the man currently had other priorities than to be rotting in business calculus.

Business calculus… the bane of his existence, his utter torture of attending every session, a complete fifty minutes wasted three times a week just for him to sit there and ponder about something else — most of the time, it was him getting antsy to get to you.

It was much to everyone’s surprise that he even went to all his lectures — the one student no one ever expects to have perfect attendance for a class he gives two shits about — well, he does give a shit because it’s all for his plan.

….

“So tell me why you’re trying to take this class?” His best friend glanced over Satoru’s shoulder.

“Don’t bother me, I can’t multi-task,” Gojo murmured, ignoring his raven hair friend as he lightly bit his lips, furiously typing up his course number into the system, his back hunched as he anxiously stared at his loading computer screen, “never thought getting a class would be so stressful," Satoru groaned.

“Why are you so stressed, it’s unlike you,” Geto’s voice was serene, “and what other dumb shit are you up to?” he chuckled while taking a sip of his coffee.

“It’s not dumb,” Satoru shot back.

“You tested out of calculus, Satoru.”

“So what?” he grumbled — just a couple seconds more…

Geto didn’t quite understand why Gojo had to go to such lengths, completely acting out of his character as he pitifully waited for his screen to load.

He’d never seen his friend so riled up about something so simple. The last time Satoru got like this was a couple of years back when a small pastry shop he searched online closed an hour before they got there. His defeat and whines were understandable since the trip took three hours by train.

But this… yea, Suguru couldn’t quite put a finger on it… well not until a very minor dialogue he had with a certain someone, such small talk that even he forgot that it occurred a semester prior.

“Are you by chance doing this because —”

Cutting him off, “fuck…” was all Suguru heard as his best friend rested his forehead on his arm, body slumping from the adrenal fatigue.

In bold, a message read:

Congrats! You have successfully registered for all your classes

Perhaps, it wouldn't hurt to learn a bit more about limits and infinities, Satoru thought before taking a nap in the library.

….

Or I can ask if she can help me study. because she’s good at that, right? she’s always at the library, always ignoring my texts because of her goddamn exams…

Gojo pondered, crossing his arms with his index and thumb rubbing against his chin, his cheeks squeezed while furrowing his brows.

but fuck, that means I won’t be able to talk to her because last time — I mean, it’s been a month since then, maybe it’ll be different now, I figure we got closer. she's smiling a bit more and we’ve gone on a couple of dates… I suppose —

…

“Psst,” Gojo harshly whispered from across the table, “psst!”

Glaring at him over your laptop, eyes sparkling and round, face needy for attention, “what do you want?” You spat out.

“Just wondering,” Gojo chirped, his ears perked in your direction with his elbows resting on the table, body leaning towards your direction, “Have you fallen for me yet?”

“No, you’re not my type.” you retorted emotionless.

“What’s your type then?” Gojo countered, unfazed, smiling as he challenged your words.

“Someone, not Gojo Satoru.”

“Well, aren’t you spicy?” He stretched out his legs while leaning back on his chair, boyishly smiling with his arms thrown behind his neck, the lean physique of his body outlined in this position — he looked hot, no doubt about that, and… he knew that.

“but i’m just going to tell you now,” cocking his head to the side, licking his soft lips that shined a pretty pink, confidently proclaiming,

“there will come a day when your words will bite you in the ass.”

“Did your parents ever teach you about having some class —“

“Can you guys lower it down, or move someplace else?” a student hushed, stating through gritted teeth as he witnessed the tortuous and unforgivable sight of you both, love, bantering in the library of all places.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, apologetically smiling at them before facing forward to meet your stalker — you swore he was stalking you because there was no way he and you could have this many “random” encounters, that would work out so perfectly with him just magically appearing wherever you go — it's bullshit you thought, especially when his acting skills weren’t necessarily that great…

“Hey babe,” Gojo cheekily whispered,

“I’m not your babe,” you hissed back.

“Ooo, so you like the sweet pet names huh? Noted,” he nodded, the curve of his lips turned upward, humming a tune while he typed something on his phone.

you couldn’t tell what annoyed you more, his devilishly handsome smile, or the fact that your heart was beating in unrhythmic patterns the more you talked with him.

A facade maybe, but you’ve come to undeniably enjoy his rambunctious company despite him getting on your nerves.

“Then, sweetheart, do you wanna —“

“No.” you numbly stated while typing away at your report.

“But I didn’t even get to —“

“Still, no.”

“Fine…” for a moment Satoru slumped into his chair, before quickly asking again, “how about —”

“No.”

Smiling as he rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward as he pushes down your laptop, his long, pretty fingers lightly tapping the case, “Do you hate Gojo Satoru?” His words slyly spewed out of his lips, anticipating your shy face when he catches you slipping for saying ‘no’ without much thought.

“Yes.”

“Boo,” Satoru pouted while retreating to his side, slumping his back to rest his cheeks on his textbook as he closed his eyes.

With your screen down it was easier to take notice of his features. Not that you were blatantly indifferent about his looks — everyone knew Gojo Satoru was handsome — but you rarely got to see him for who he was underneath all the layers of superficial worth people praised him for.

There was a lot on his shoulders from the brief mentions about his family and childhood that you could sense. It was easy to tell that behind all the crazy and loud was a little boy hiding his loneliness and pain under a mask and careless demeanor.

You noticed his lips were mildly protruding out, his brows slightly furrowed and his white hair gently frayed down on his forehead with his lashes long and occasionally fluttering. His skin was unblemished and his jaw was sharp yet his face still held the youth of his age.

He’ll soon prepare to work for his family business, learning about the intricacies of the business and possibly becoming one of those cutthroat bosses you’ve seen in the dramas.

He’ll probably grow a bit more — he’s been working out a lot Gojo would say, proven by the multiple thirst traps he’ll post. His arms were getting a lot more defined, and his abs… oh, you didn’t mean to take a peak. But guess you did have a front-row seat to his almost topless torso when he mindlessly pulled up his shirt while he took off his sweatshirt.

can't say you disliked the view.

You remember feeling warm that day — stomach fluttering with something, while your back felt gently embraced with his scent and clothing.

“You checking me out?” Gojo muttered without taking a glance at you, pulling you back into reality.

“N-no!” you quickly looked away, opening up your laptop as you grimaced at the harsh stares you got from those around you for the noise, “j-just wondering if you were going to study or not?” you murmured, hiding your face behind your laptop and your cheeks starting to feel hot.

“For someone so smart you ask dumb questions,” Gojo chuckled as he stretched out his legs, his feet purposefully tapping against yours, “what does it look like I’m doing, sweetheart?” he quietly mumbled before his voice started to fade out, “you know,” silently yawning as his body curled inward — all 6’3’’ of him on the small desk that barely housed his long legs — the tapping of his foot now softly, soothingly, rubbing against yours, “you gotta work smarter, not hard…er…”

You weren’t sure if the man before you was a complete idiot or a genius. but for unknown reasons, this guy surprisingly scores the top grade in his classes when his only method of “studying” is sleeping with his head on top of his textbook — surely, the world isn’t fair.

Despite the little snore you heard in front of you, with the light grunts he made from the uncomfortable position, you couldn’t help but fondly look at the guy in front of you.

Smiling — yea, you’ve been doing that a lot these days.

You decided — maybe, opening up wouldn’t be so bad…

For you, you remembered it was the first time you felt odd in the stomach. A bit like butterflies as you watched him doze off to sleep, trying your absolute best to restrain your hands from moving a piece of hair that covered his face as he slightly drooled while you studied. You’ve been catching yourself stalling time to meet him where he supposedly just ran into you — he was nice and the epitome of warmth, and you liked that in your dull world.

But for Satoru, it was another failed attempt to get closer to you.

He remembered waking up in an empty library — alone. he swore he rested his head for no more than thirty minutes, but how the hell was the time three hours past that?

Stretching as he released a low groan, his gaze foggy as he squinted his eyes to look for you, only to frown when he realized you were nowhere to be seen.

“dammit” Satoru grumbled while quickly packing his bags, “I wanted to buy dinner —”

A neon post it leafed its way down to the table, planting face down as Gojo slowly blinked in confusion while touching his forehead.

Picking up the piece of paper, it read:

Hey loser, you were mumbling about some food while you slept, so I got you dinner and placed it next to your backpack. go home and eat ( :

p.s. also, stop bothering me, weirdo.

p.p.s. you know you drool while sleeping?

Dumbfoundedly wiping his lips with the back of his hand, Gojo wasn’t sure if he was blushing from embarrassment or the fact that you were the first girl to buy him dinner — well, it wasn’t in the typical romantic sense… but who the fuck cares, it’s the fact that you bought him dinner; therefore, a step a closer to his goal. So he wins.

Carefully folding the note and placing it into the safeguard of his wallet, Gojo quickly strapped on his bag as he gently held onto his dinner, cradling it like a prized possession, mentally noting what to use for his excuse tomorrow while he made his way down the stairs to the exit.

The air felt oddly cold for the summer. the slight breeze brushed against his face, the ends of his hair tickling his cheeks as he breathed in the damp air.

Everything felt good — right almost despite his lost chances of getting dinner with you. Perhaps he can save that for another day.

“Just you wait,” beaming up at the moon lighting up the campus, his blue eyes sparkling as Gojo declared, “you will be mine.”

…

“ — Gojo-kun,” his professor called out. His impatience ran thin as he tapped his foot against the floor, “if you don’t answer, I will fail you —”

“Sensei, the limit just simply doesn’t exist — it’s limitless.” Satoru nonchalantly responded, cooly peaking at his watch now — maybe the time would read faster with that — but the second hand still stayed the same, seconds excruciatingly feeling long.

“No matter how difficult you propose this function, if the derivative doesn’t exist, nor will its limit.” Gojo continued to calmly iterated his reasoning.

“But doesn’t this point here,” pointing at the board, the chalk panging against the surface, “exist?” his professor challenged, “it’s a point on the graph.”

“Well, no matter how far you stretch this graph within the axes, going as far as trying to touch the asymptotes, it will never. because the limit will always be limitless since the function at those points won’t exist. So, no, that point isn’t on the graph.”

“And what about here?,” pointing to the chalkboard,“what is your answer, Gojo-kun?”

“Assuming you only have one x to one y, then the answer is simple. By definition, the limit will exist if the points on both sides of that graph approach the same point. To find that point, well that depends on the graph given. And looking at this graph, no. there are two points that are open.”

It should be about damn time.

Gojo felt his blood rushing through his body, heart anxiously pumping with each heavy thud drumming to his ears, the only sound audible that his brain could decipher instead of the pointless questions his professor was asking — why was he making it so goddamn difficult.

His urgency spiked up as adrenaline pumped through his body, anxiously shaking his leg, Gojo clicked his phone open again, his large hand covering the device as he peeped down.

11:48 — shit.

“Well, what about when —”

“Shit, I'm late,” Gojo cursed, frantically packing up his bag and zipping it up.

“Excuse me?” His professor frowned, obviously taken aback by his student’s daring use of profanity in his lecture.

But paying no mind, Gojo quickly stood up and paved his way out, harshly whispering past with a light smile as he hugged onto his bag, “Psst, sorry, going through!” doing his best to swiftly move through the cramped isles while his giant, uncaring if his lanky build caused a nuisance in the middle of the lecture, unbothered if his professor was done talking to him or not,

“Gojo-kun?” His professor was flabbergasted at his student’s rude ignorance.

“excuse me, sorry!” Satoru cheekily exclaimed while finally making his way out.

“I haven’t dismissed —”

“Sensei sorry!” Gojo exclaimed while opening the lecture door, ready to sprint out, “I promise, I’ll pass your exam tomorrow!” he blurted, voice fading off into the distance and Gojo now nowhere to be seen.

“... at least don’t sit in the middle if you’re always going to barge out like that,” his professor murmured to himself, massaging the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

Yet the only response he got was silence, the awkward creaking of the door closing, and the clock striking the end of his lecture.

“Fuck,” he panted while brushing his fingers through his hair, a little damp from his sweat, his chest huffing from the sprint across campus as he looked at his watch, brows furrowed as his eyes searched everywhere for a glimpse of you.

“Not there,” he mumbled, gazing to his side, “no, not here,” frustratingly turning around as he scanned the area just in case you slipped out the back door, his eyes loosely looking past a couple of figures, “damn it, not here too.”

“What’s not here?” he heard a soft voice from behind him.

“Just looking for someone,” without processing, Satoru blurted out, “uhm… sorry just talking to myself —” Gojo mumbled as he slowly turned around, impatient that someone was taking away his precious time to find you.

Call him a dreamer but he was still hopeful that you possibly didn’t just leave — I mean how could you, when he made it a point to always see you after class, you couldn’t be that clueless.

“You’re late,” you stated, trying to stifle your laugh, his busy eyes quickly changed to ones of nervousness as he registered who was exactly in front of him. His clear, azul eyes were imbued in sheer panic as his expression dwindled to eventual ease as a droplet of sweat ran down from his temple.

“Oh god, uhm,” scratching his head as he awkwardly looked off to the side, whispering under his breath, “I- I ended class a little late, but great to see you again,” he tried composing himself while smiling — the one that made his lips twitch from nervousness.

“I see,” you hummed, “you seem out of breath, Gojo,” you teased, remembering just how frantic he looked minutes prior while running over.

You ended class a bit earlier, wondering if he’d be waiting outside like he normally did, pacing back and forth to make it seem like he simply ran into you — how utterly stupid was he?

But it was you that would giggle, feeling the type of happiness that made your heart full and cheeks hurting — guess you were the stupid one for falling for such an act.

So you decided to wait today, standing off in the corner to witness how he would stage his act — you just didn’t expect him to be in such a panic rush trying to get here.

“Yea, y-you know those stairs, it gets me all the time,” Gojo stiffly laughed as he fisted his hand behind his back, trying to steady his breath and nose from embarrassingly flaring.

“Satoru,” giggling as you peeped up, noticing just how much taller he was compared to you while his hands nervously twitched and cheeks rosy despite his firm stance that his class was only but a few steps away from yours, you couldn’t help but smile at his innocence, “there are no stairs in this building.”

“Satoru, huh… that’s a change… sounds so nice rolling off your tongue,” he pondered while staring at your lips. It was cute and just perfect as you said every letter, every syllable of his name —

“Earth to Gojo Sa-to-ru,” waving your hands, tip-toeing to get his attention.

“Ah, right…. Sorry,” he mumbled, shyly looking away only to take a quick glance at you looking up at him.

“So…” cocking your head to the side, eyes doe-like while looking up through your lashes, “ what’s the plan for today? You softly chirped.

“uhm,” eyes widen, shocked at your response, “what?” his voice was unexpectedly sharp.

“I asked what are we doing today….” Rolling on your heels, “I-isn’t that why you’re here?” you nervously asked.

“Just like that?” Gojo glanced at you, eyes full of suspicion.

“What do you mean?” you questioned, lips starting to form a pout as you awaited his answer.

“Sorry,” he sighed, stretching his legs out to match his height with yours, “didn’t mean to sound harsh,” he apologetically whispered while gazing into your eyes.

“It’s just that you always reject me… I - I mean,” holding his hands up, shaking in defense to not offend you, “don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it,” furrowing his brows as he shook his head, “no, no, let’s retract back. I’m thrilled that you’re asking me. It's just that…” his voice slowly fading as if embarrassment finally caught up to his head.

“It's just what?” you softly mumbled.

“Well,” sighing, “I had all these excuses planned out just in case you said no,” he confessed as he pulled his phone from his pocket, “It’s all in my notes app.”

“Notes app huh?” your lips twitched from trying to contain your laugh.

“So what was the excuse for today? or… ” you teased, gently hitting your elbow against his arm, “should I say no, so your efforts don’t go to waste?”

“Thought we could go for coffee after I uncoincidentally bumped into you after your class,” Satoru shrugged.

“Coffee sounds nice,” you hummed, “you’re buying?”

“Here gimme,” he softly encouraged, quickly taking your bag and swinging it over his shoulder, “I mean, I do owe you one for bumping into you that one day.”

“Ah, so you do admit, that was your fault,” you jokingly glared, “the headache you put me through because of your stupid five hundred dollar shirt,” you grumbled.

“Well technically it was a bit more,” he grinned, “but not really, I believe in fate,” he winked, “it was a divine moment.”

“You’re ridiculous,” rolling your eyes, “but I need to study.”

“I have an excuse for that too.”

“And what could that be?”

“I got an exam tomorrow, so you can watch me be handsomely studious,” Satoru smiled.

“For what class?” stunned to hear Gojo Satoru and studying be spoken in a sentence together.

“Business calc,” he frowned.

“Oh my god! Who’s your professor?” you beamed.

“The one and only Takashi sensei,” Satoru chuckled, softly patting your head as he couldn’t resist your cute enthusiasm.

“What?” your voice suspicious, yet you had no resolve to remove it — it felt nice, his hands were big… you realized.

“Nothing,” biting his lip to contain his laugh,” it’s just… that’s the most you’ve shown interest in me.”

“Whatever…” you huffed to flush out the embarassment, “I have him next semester —”

“I know,” he softly responded, his words going unnoticed.

“— and I’m worried because math isn’t really my forte,” you honestly confessed.

“That’s why you have me!” he stood with his chest tall, his thumb pointing at himself, “I’ll be your dependable, hot tutor that you fall in love with.”

“You’re ridiculous…”

Winking, “I don’t charge pretty girls like you —”

“So you’re telling me, you tutored other girls by being their hot and dependable tutor?” you raised a brow, standing to one side as you crossed your arms.

“What? N-no, that’s not it!”

“mhm, yea… playboy,” shaking your head,” so why are you taking business calculus? Thought you tested out of it, no?”

“Well… a man has his reasons,” he cheekily stated.

“And how does that help me to study?” raising one brow as you questioned his logic, “ I thought your method of studying was sleeping on your textbook.”

“Okay wow, I was not prepared for that. You’re making it difficult for me again, but you know what?” pulling his sleeves up as he stood tall in front of you, “I’m prepared for your rejections. And in answer to that, then we can study together.”

“But you talk too much, and snore when you fall asleep.”

“Not true,” Satoru murmured, “Suguru said I was generally a peaceful and quiet sleeper.”

“Explain generally,” you eyed him suspiciously, “and I didn’t know you both were like that,” giggling, your heart slowly expanding in adoration the more you talked with him, “... sleeping together and such.”

“We just had one too many nights where we would pass out a little drunk after a party,” scratching the back of his head, “and m-my body runs a little hot… so…”

“So…?”

“So, Shoko may or may not have some photos of us,” Gojo’s face started to contort in disgust, “cuddling…”

“But aside from that,” he tried defending himself, “I’m very great to sleep with!”

“Sure…” you gave him a teasing glance, “I’ll ask Geto the next time I see him about that.”

“Hey…” suddenly stepping closer to you, his voice serious yet soft. He was careful to not overstep any boundaries you might have placed, slowly reaching down to grasp hold of your fingers,

“just give me a chance yea? I’ll be good, I- I won’t snore, I won't drool, and I’ll only talk when I need to, hmm?” he reassured

You can almost feel the sore desperation in his voice as you feel the feathery grazes of his fingers against yours; his breath held as he anxiously awaited your answer.

“Okay,” you softly mumbled.

“Great,” releasing his breath, “you won’t regret it, I promise,” Gojo whispered while smiling.

“Hey Satoru,” you lightly called out, his name perfectly rolling off your tongue — so delicate, so pretty.

“Mhm,” he invited you to continue.

“Did you run here?” You questioned, playing with your foot as you rolled a rock on your shoe, “you’re normally not so out of breath.”

“Pssh, no,” he awkwardly laughed, “I told you my class is in this building as well —“

“Stupid, come here,” you murmured, pulling him slightly down, taking a piece of your sleeve as you tiptoed to reach his face. Gently dabbing the small droplets of sweat under his soft white bangs, “next time don’t run. And finish your class, Sensei’s going to hate you,” you softly told him.

“I- I told you,” blushing because your face was way too close — dangerous even — examining your features, ‘pretty’ he thought as he watched you concentrate on him,

“I just happened to have class —“

“I’ll be waiting next time, so take your time coming,” you smiled, looking into his eyes before quickly flattening your feet, “it’s quite far to come here from across campus, no?”

Satoru just gives in, like the hundred different times where he willingly lost to you, “Not as hard as scoring a date with you,” he smiled while spreading his feet out to make it easier for you to continue.

“It’s not a date,” you mumbled, your cheeks feeling hot as his soft eyes gazed at you, his two hands lightly placed on your hips to draw you closer.

“It is so definitely a date,” Satoru professed, “and I can just tell,” his voice feathery and light, “that we’ll have many more.”

10 years later —

The light scratching on his pen against the document loomed in his office. Ijichi, his most trusted secretary anxiously waited for his boss to finish signing his papers, watching guard just in case he didn’t go running off before finishing all his duties — again.

“You don’t need to stand there hovering,” Gojo nonchalantly stated, his wrist gently peeking through his cuffs, his watch shining with every stroke of his name.

“Well, these reports are important that you have them signed by today,” Ijichi nervously answered.

“Do you have it ready?” Gojo responded without removing his gaze from the file he was reading just before signing.

“I-I do, the flower shop did say it was difficult to find the specific color, but they made it work. I’ll bring it over when you’re done… and reservations have been made, sir.”

“Perfect, because…” his voice calm and emotionless, his hair once perfectly set in the morning, now just a little frazzled from his busy day, his tie now loose from his stress, “this should be the last one I do,” Satoru smiled while giving his secretary the folder.

“Sir, uhm you still have —”

“I’ll do them tomorrow,” Gojo stood up, reaching over to grab his coat, quickly throwing it over his broad shoulder.

“B-but!” Ijichi was frantic, his eyes shaking at the visible stack of papers Satoru had yet to sign — and oh, god, he didn’t even get to read over the file for tomorrow’s presentation.

“Satoru-sachou, the Chairman will be there for tomorrow—“

“And the flowers are beautiful, she’ll love them, thank you,” Gojo warmly smiled while taking a whiff of its scent, walking past the frazzled man to a mirror to quickly freshen up his white hair and clothes, reapply your favorite cologne and spray some mint into his mouth.

“Satoru-sach —”

“Relax, when have I ever worried you?”

'always,' Ijichi thought.

Nonchalant and unbothered as he fixed his tie, “It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, and you’ll be fine,” Satoru stated as he took one look at the mirror, his sharp cerulean eyes looking at his secretary, “go take the night off, you look exhausted.”

You! You are the source of my stress and mental breakdowns! Ijichi wanted to scream.

While making his way to the door, Satoru quickly noted, “I’ll be here in the morning with all of it finished,” he stated before leaving his office.

At a loss for words, helpless in front of his careless boss, Ijichi just stood frozen, mind racing at all the changes and accommodations, the phone calls and e-mails he’d have to make to fit into Gojo’s schedule because he knew for sure… Gojo Satoru will not be here bright and early in the morning to finish his work — especially when it is date night.

“I should just quit,” falling to his knees, defeated by his boss’s carelessness to simply skadoodle off on a date when he was one impacted by the brunt repercussions of his actions, “surely he wants to kill me with all this— ”

Disrupting his internal monologue, “Ah, I almost forgot,” Ijichi’s mortal enemy spoke while opening the door and holding onto the knob, “I booked a small vacation for you and your wife for this weekend, it should be in my drawer,” the man simply blinked in response, “and don’t call me until I text you, I got important business for tonight,” Gojo warned before his voice quickly changed to that of pity, “yea… you definitely need that break,” he stated as he shook his head and closed the door again.

Registering what just occurred, Ijichi grunted as he lifted himself up, brushing his knees as he walked towards Satoru’s desk, lightly skipping as the scales of his exhaustion flaked off from the caring act of his boss, “Well, guess I gotta start sending those emails now…” Ijichi hummed.

…

“Traffic doesn’t seem too bad,” Gojo muttered while looking at his phone’s navigation, his steps pacing as the clicks of his heels echoed through the halls of the empty parking garage.

Sliding his hand behind the handle, the car automatically turned on as he opened the door. Lowly grunting as he entered his Bentley, his eyes quickly scanned his back seat from the rearview mirror, his mind recalling a moment a couple of days prior that left you rather speechless in his arms — hot and sticky as he reconfirmed once again his love for you in a rather lustfully carnal matter.

He could do that with you — boyfriend privileges.

It’s not like he picked out this specific car, testing out the back specifically for its… spacious seating and tinted window. Totally didn’t bring this car to work today because he wanted to test those specifications out again… but only if you were up for it.

And stepping on the gas pedal, Gojo drove out, the light screeches of his car heard from inside.

“Daddy’s coming, sweetheart,” Gojo chuckled while firmly placing a grip on his wheel, his vacant arm resting on the side.

Though a decade has gone by, Satoru still feels the same giddiness that he did when he was eighteen. He’s gotten taller, bulkier in his frame, and styled his clothes better from the god-awful sweats he always wore — though you still seem to always complain if he wasn’t wearing his specific gray ones, he doesn’t blame you. It makes his dick look nice.

He kisses you a lot better than the sloppy ones he gave you in his teen years. He gets to wake up with you — face cutely bloated, tummy peaking through his loose shirt, legs entangled with his as he takes in your beauty. He likes that, all of it.

He reads and understands your quirks before you even tell him. And strangely so, when you have a headache, well god be damned, he had one too.

He’s become more influential and held power to his name, leading a multi-billion company, but in the privacy of his home, he was still silly, honest, and vulnerable. Contrary to the changes throughout the years, Satoru was still the same — a lovesick man.

Despite your harsh decision to break up with him from a simple misunderstanding, Gojo never held it against you. He’s grown to understand and works to amend the loss — together. It was his time to grow, his time to expand his horizons and his time to explore his options. But guess fate was really on his side because he walked back to where it all started with a fresh start — finding you two years ago at a college reunion.

Life was good for Satoru — better when you came back into his world. Mornings weren’t so tough and nights didn’t feel so lonely. His mundane days of meeting and mediocre dates were of the past. Now, even the simplest days felt refreshing.

Looking out as he drove through the highway, a couple minutes from your workplace, he watched the city’s skyline sparkle in the dark. He recalled the days when he looked out the night sky, thinking if you were happy, wishing he could just understand why you decided to leave him — only for him to make some regrettable choices of relying on alcohol and texting quick fucks, slipping into weakness during the quietest of times.

It’s often when everything was quiet that felt the loudest — the most difficult to bear for him.

But now, when he sees the night sky he can’t help but feel warm with a slight tingling resonating from his core because even if it's quiet, he isn’t alone — you’ve nestled into a portion of his heart that he could never forsake, nor did he want to.

She’ll like that, Gojo thought while looking up, making a mental note to mention it to you later.

He felt his heart beating fast as he imagined what face you would make when you would see him today — happy, relieved, excited? Or did you happen to have a bad day, the exhaustion dripping from your slumped shoulders simply needing a hug with light kisses as he expressed his love?

And parking his car, carefully grabbing the bouquet as he took another whiff — he doesn’t remember flowers smelling so beautifully fragrant when you weren’t in his life, but strangely now… it does.

“Yellow tulips are my favorite,” you mentioned once while Satoru dropped you off at your dorm.

“Why,” he asked. Repeating ‘yellow tulips’ in his head multiple times just so he can type it into his notes app later when he was alone.

“Just cause… they’re beautiful and they symbolize hope and happiness,” you softly said, “I like to think there’s something out there I can be hopeful for… and maybe find the answer to finding true happiness, if that even exists, ” you shyly confessed with a gentle laugh.

And grabbing hold of your hand, gently bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss, specific to a finger on your left hand, Satoru marked a promise, “I’ll buy you all the yellow tulips in the world, till you find that answer.”

Obviously, no flower could come abysmally close to your natural scent when he held you tightly in his arms, naked bodies touching as he breathed into your skin.

And he hoped the time he spent with you was a step closer to finding your true happiness because, to him, you meant the world.

“She’ll be out in a few, so...” he murmured while taking a look at his watch, briefly scanning the entrance to find a good spot to wait.

“There should be perfect,” he whispered to himself as he made his way to the corner — a place difficult to see through from the dangling tree leaves and vines.

Satoru couldn’t help but pleasingly reminiscence the times when he would run from his lecture to pick you up. Who can blame him, he was a man on a mission to find his princess — just so happens that she broke his heart eight years ago — but who the fuck cares about setbacks, things were good now.

He feels his heart beating, the familiar thumping in his chest as he waits for you. The usual sweating of his palms as he checked his phone for the time again, mentally groaning as time seemed to be infinitely fixed. Good thing there was no sensei asking him useless questions as he nervously waited.

“I’ll see you next week, have a great weekend Tanaka-san.”

Gojo could realize that voice anywhere.

There you were, waving goodbye to a fellow male coworker that he had never liked — the lovely Tanaka-san, you always had so many great things to say about. He should just have you transferred to his company, you’ll thrive, and even have a chance to expand your talents … but you’ll give him an earful if he does.

But that’ll be a conversation for another day when he’s more willing to put up a friendly fight with you.

Because right now, he had a mission — one he’s been striving for since eighteen.

“Ah, fancy I see you here,” Satoru voiced out, coming out from the dark with a hand behind his back, “must’ve been fate that we meet,” he stated with a wink.

Rolling your eyes with a chuckle, turning around to see your boyfriend walking over, “did you run here? Or…” you hummed while looking over to find his Bentley parked on the right, “are you gonna tell me you work here too?”

“Neither,” he shrugged while walking, “just came here to ask a pretty girl out on a date, that’s all,” his voice soft yet enticing as he now stood so closely in front of you.

“Oh, I’m sorry but I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend,” you looked around, your knees feeling weak when you caught his confident smirk, the sweet scent of his cologne hypnotizing your senses, “have you seen him? He’s really handsome, you know?” you played on.

“You do?” Satoru warmly stated as he gave you the bouquet he was hiding behind his back, his fingers gently resting on your hips as he pulled you in, your dainty heels standing in between his larger dress shoes while he pressed a warm kiss to your cheek, “Bet your handsome boyfriend doesn’t have flowers for you like this, no?”

“He gets them for me all the time,” you took a whiff of the rose and caught sight of the yellow incarnation of hope, “and always picks me up from work even though it drives his secretary insane.”

“Pssh, what a bad boyfriend,” he whispered with his gaze traveling to your lips, “you should totally dump him for me,” he pitched while cupping your face, lips teasing to touch, the slight minty breeze of his breath warming your cheeks, as he slowly closed the impending gap between you two,

“what do you say, sweetheart? Give me a chance and I’ll treat you to more than just coffee for our date tonight.”

note: hope you all enjoyed! it was rather difficult to pull out this piece because I was heartbroken from the last jjk chapter... but all is well now because gojo is healthy and well in the forbes30! universe. this was a headcanon that spiraled into a 6k fic... and hopefully i'll be able to expand on the other hc's i have for him, without breaking the word count rip

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #forbes30!gojo

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etherealyoungk · 10 months

Text

college boyfriend!chan

because i really wanted to write something with these pictures of chan <3

college bf!chan who had a crush on you ever since you joined, and it took him a whole year and a half before he gathered the courage to finally talk to you and (clumsily) ask you out. chan likes you so much and is always waiting for you by your locker or outside of your class so you both can go to lunch together. he's just so enamored by you really.

college bf!chan who would see your schedules for the new semester and see if you had any classes together. but you didn't since you both were doing different courses. you just happened to have one class a week together and he's just complaining about how he's supposed to spend the entire day without out?? that's a crime in his opinion. so the one class he's with you he's gonna flirt with you nonstop, sending you cute smiles and winks and air kisses because he didn't get a seat next to you and ended up sitting at the other end of the lecture hall. he'll def be the type to pass little love notes to you during class if he manages to sit next to you. and he's also gonna hold your hand underneath the table the one class you have together. he's just so enamored by you really.

college bf!chan who would always aks for a goodluck kiss before a test or exam because why not. "they really do help, last time you forgot to kiss me and my grade dropped", he says with the most serious face and how can you even say no to that cute face.

college bf!chan who loves having little library study dates with you and he brings all your favorite snacks. he'll say "okay let's study for 1 hour and then take a break", but he's getting distracted within the first 15 minutes and scooting his chair closer to yours as he leans his head against your shoulder. "one hour isn't over genius", you tell, knowing well what he's trying to do. "hm i think i need a recharge kiss", he says, lifting his head up as he looks at you. "please?", he adds, puckering his lips. you give him a knowing look but give him a peck anyways. he proceeds to feed you some chips and looks at what you're studying.

college bf!chan who convinced you to skip class to watch a movie and you couldn't even say no because he'd already booked the tickets. so that's how you were both in the theater watching a movie instead of being in class. but you didn't really care, seeing chan smiling and eagerly watching the movie he was so excited made your heart full. he'll spoil you with an added dinner date too, which ends up being mcdonalds but who are you to complain, these were the best kind of dates.

college bf!chan who would hate seeing you stressed out and anxious during exams season and complained about how exams are actually stupid and should be banned. he'll make sure you don't overwork yourself by staying up late, pulling all-nighters - because he knows you've done it before and hates seeing you breakdown later.

college bf!chan who attended a class for you when you were down with a nasty cold and took the time to make notes for you so you wouldn't miss out and have to stress out over catching up. the notes he took were cutely messy and scattered but he did mange to get down the important information. he'll even be ready to do the assignment for you, but you tell him it's okay, feeling bad. he cups his cheeks in his hands as he tells you he'd do anything for you and this is the least he can do before he's giving you a warm hug. you did end up getting a decent grade for the assignment because of chan.

college bf!chan who will spoil you after your exam, treating you to a cute lunch and buying you your favortie cake as a little celebration for getting through exam season. expect lots of handholding as you both walk hand in hand.

college bf!chan who would smile and be your biggest hypeman when you're presenting your presentation to the whole class. he'll also be a little goofy, shooting you smiles and winks and you're trying not to smile too hard and laugh at his antics. he'll even write a" y/n is the best" with a little heart on a small piece of paper and hold it up, shooting you a silly smile as you see what he's done and bite your lip, trying not to grin. the moment your presentation is over, you're gathering your stuff back and going back to your seat, whisper yelling at chan. "what were you doing!", you say as you put your stuff on the table and sit down. luckily you both were in the back so no one could hear or pay much attention to you both. "i was supporting my lovely partner who worked so hard on their presentation" "by trying to make me laugh?", you say deadpan. "what no i was being supportive...baby cmon. fine next time i won't be supportive i guess", he says, frowning as he crosses his arms. "you're such an idiot, my idiot", you say, smiling, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "thank you", you add and he finally cracks into a smile and he intertwines his hand in yours.

college bf!chan who's always supportive of whatever you decide to do. he's your little pillar of support and you're so grateful to him for being with you.

taglist: @daisycheols @ylliris-hanniehae @naaaaafla @slytherinshua @joshuaahong @fairyhaos @rubywonu @gam3bo1z @cutiepatutie13 @ibsysbsfunsbs @rksbae @kyeomyun @icyminghao

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mrswint3rs · 3 months

Note

Can you do a Zeke one?

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 ᯐ

pairings- Professor! Zeke x Fem! Reader

a/n- i love this man with all my heart // not proofreading bc if i do i’ll cringe and delete the whole thing

cw- Teacher x Student relations, fantasizing, some mentions of guilt, public masturbation, age gap (reader is early 20s / Zeke is mid 40s), unprotected sex, use of praise as always ❦

➽────── ──────

In all his years of teaching, he’d never had a student quite like you. Never had he even considered looking at one of his students as anything more. Then you came along. Or rather, he did.

It was good to start a clean slate every now and then, to get a chance at doing something new. So he decided to take a sabbatical leave, temporarily parting from his home country.

It wasn’t the first time he had traveled to the states, but teaching there was a different story.

Seemed phyc was a more common course to take for a GPA raise rather than it was important. Most students didn’t take his teachings all that seriously, handing in the most atrocious attempts at an essay.

No one engaged in his lectures, even when he made an effort to make them more interesting and interactive. They all just lifelessly sat through each day, like his words went in one ear and right out the other.

Only you seemed to be interested in actually learning, laughed at his dry humored jokes when none of your other peers did. It was his only motivation to get through each day. He considered going back to his roots. It all felt sort of pointless, like he wasn’t getting through to anyone.

Sure his lessons and theories were a little old fashioned and boring at times, but he didn’t think he was all that bad. It was what he worked so hard through his youth for. He was pretty confident in all his knowledge and wanted nothing more than to provide his insight which you finally gave him a chance at.

You never skipped class, always turned in assignments on time, and you actually participated. Every question you’d be the first to raise your hand, most times you’d be the only one to do so. You even went out of your way to speak with him after class ended, either questions about the lecture or just to talk to him in general.

He knew he shouldn’t favor his students, but really he couldn’t help it.

You put so much effort into studying, and it showed in all your test results. Exams were a breeze for you because you actually heard him when he spoke. Always front row.

He looked forward to seeing you there, probably more than he should. And he absolutely despised seeing you talking to your other teachers. He could only hope he was your favorite.

It was that jealous build up that made him realize just how much you started to cloud his thoughts.

He started to favor you so much he could hardly see your faults. Any mistakes on your papers, he’d ignore, just to see you beam at his approval when it was handed back. Not that he needed any excuse to praise you, you were without a doubt at the top of your class even without his foul play.

In no way did you try to provoke him. You were a humble girl, just trying to get your credits. Yet he couldn’t help but wish it was something more than that.

The way you looked at him, as if waiting for something. He couldn’t resist the feeling of wanting you. And that want was gradually shifting into a need. No woman in his age group ever got him that needy. Only you and your possibly yearning gaze.

He grips his cock, stroking to the thought of you like a mad man after class. Nobody came into his office after lunch hours anyway.

He cusps his freehand over his mouth to silence his pathetic groaning as he fucks into his other one, closing his eyes tight and imagining you at the front of his class. Just sitting and listening to him so intently. You were so innocently enticing.

Just the thought of you doing something so normal was enough to make him lose himself.

It was so morally wrong and he knew that deep down. It only made it feel more thrilling, making him shoot spurts all over the underside of his desk.

God, he was a sick man. Completely thinking with his dick as if he was a teenaged boy again. He felt like he needed to be baptized or something.

But even with the aftermath guilt, his need for you was unwavering. He just didn’t know how to get closer to you. You probably didn’t see him that way. He didn’t think he fit the role of the ‘sexy professor’ that all the girls fawned over. He was just a dorky middle aged man trying to be what his parents wanted him to be. It was more than likely that you only saw him for what he was.

It was normal to have at least one teachers pet. You just tried harder than most to be successful. If you want something, you have to earn it.

You knew that all too well. Which was the real reason behind your commitment to his class.

Sure, you needed those credits and a straight grade, but those weren’t your main concerns. The second you stepped foot in that room and laid eyes on him, he became the whole focus point. He was beautiful and not in a self absorbed way, which was so rare. It was like he didn’t even realize how appealing he was, and you wanted nothing more than to show him.

Anyone could take notice of how awkward his lectures were. When he tried to interact and joke around and they were all so blandly silent. You felt bad.

Soon, you started putting yourself in front of him as much as you possibly could, becoming one of the only ones to make an effort to engage with the poor man. It was clear he was trying his best.

And he was an excellent instructor. You weren’t all brains, and his lectures made more sense than any of the previous. To you, everything he taught just clicked. You were fascinated by his witt, even his profound opinions. It was the only class you didn’t feel obligated to attend.

At first he was just eye candy. But over time you grew to actually appreciate his unique personality as well. He wore his heart on his sleeve more than he probably realized. You could read him like an open book. And it was especially clear how he felt in the way he looked at you, and that lopsided greeting smile when you looked back.

He seemed so happy every time you’d approach him after class. It was clear he was lonely. No one appreciated him the way you did, and you couldn’t understand why. It was beyond pity. You just wanted to see those blue-grey eyes light up, and for his smile to actually reach them.

And him in general.

You could hardly sit still at the sound of his voice going on about the ‘hierarchy of needs’. Well he was leaving out a major one.

You clench your thighs together tighly, shifting like you’re uncomfortable just for the friction from the seem in the crotch of your jeans, gnawing on your inner cheek like a dog with a bone. The last thing you wanted was to let a moan slip in front of everyone. Even you realize how desperate you were behaving. The man was just talking for fucks sake.

It was always so easy for you to take it in before, but now you’re not following what he’s teaching at all, only focusing on the rasp undertone of his voice. Imagining how it’d sound if he was buried deep inside you.

You orgasm so easily, making a mess inside your pants. You just hoped no one took notice of your writhing, and that he wasn’t looking at the way your eyes rolled back as you came so hard to the thought of him. Though a part of you wanted him to catch on.

Eventually your lack of ability to pay attention caught up to you. Your grades started to slip, which shocked him since you were doing so well before. He couldn’t help but feel concerned and he wanted to know the cause of the change. Which led you to being called into his office, with the door and blinds shut for privacy.

Where you always deep down aspired to be. Just preferably not for this reason. You never wanted to disappoint him.

“Have a seat wherever you’re comfortable,” he says, pulling up one of your recent works.

You pull out the chair in front of his desk, plopping down and looking everywhere but at him. Blatantly obvious you’re aware of the reason you were summoned.

“Forgive me for being vague in my email… I just wanted to check on you.” he says. “Lately you’ve been…sort of out of it. I just want to be sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“No need to be concerned about me, Professor Yeager.” you immediately chime in. “I’ll pick up the slack.”

“I’m not as much worried about your grades as I am about you. You’re a very talented girl. I’d hate to see you struggle, especially on my account.”

“It’s not your fault,” yes it is. “You’re one of the greatest teachers i’ve ever had.”

And that’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever heard. He struggles to keep up his professional facade as those words come out of your mouth. Something he had wanted to receive throughout his whole career.

“Is that so?” he presses on. “Why is that? I fear i’m nothing short of the average.”

You breathe out, almost frustrated by his self undermining. “You’re anything but average, professor. In all aspects.”

You couldn’t be more obvious. The only way you were getting anywhere with him was by being flat out bold. Even if he turned you down, you couldn’t miss out on the chance to reveal yourself. It was nearing the end of his sabbatical leave. You knew he would only be there for one semester.

“In…all aspects?”

You wanted to curl up and die. You knew he was a bit of a loser, but thought surely he could take a hint. He had to have had a woman in his life at some point.

Instead of further delving into the details of feelings, you shoot your shot, leaning in to take his lips. No way to misinterpret that.

It finally clicks with him then. You wanted him all the same, came straight to him.

Next thing you know, you’re flat on your stomach, face smooshed against the smooth wood of his desk with his cock jabbing in and out of your drenched cunt. He didn’t have to restrain himself any longer, finally you were right where he wanted you to be. All those days of pumping into his hand were nothing compared to actually having you. Just as tight and eager as he imagined. He knew you were innocent on the outside, but nobody is ever fully innocent on the inside.

“Such a pretty girl,” he moans. “I’ve waited so long to have you like this.”

He hits that spot repeatedly, making you gasp for breaths. “s’ too good…” you mewl, your pussy practically swallowing him up whole.

“Thank you for being such a wonderful student,” he groans, hips stuttering as he feels you tighten around his length. “Taking me so damn good…”

“I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come.” he adds, and you turn into a puddle. “All for me,”

He continues to rut into you, neither of you caring about the consequences. Your moans are so angelic to him. He wishes he could watch your face, look into your eyes while he fucks you. He just wants you to need him.

“Gonna cum, Professor!” you warn with a whine, only urging him to pick up the pace. He hooks his arm underneath you, rapidly rubbing your puffy clit to break you further.

“That’s it…” he pants. “Cum with me. All over my cock.”

“ Give it to me, please.”

You clamp down as you finally burst. The feeling takes you whole. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out. You feel your body tingling from head to toe as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release.

You’re put down to a breathless, whiny mess, unable to even see straight or think about anything but your teacher’s cock, stuffing you oh so full of his cum with no regard.

He keeps going until it’s overstimulating him. He didn’t want to part from you. Ever. But as it got to be too much, he forces himself to pull out, releasing a pitiful whimper at the separation.

But you looked so beautiful, sprawled out and twitching on his desk. He couldn’t control the hardening of his cock again. He needed a break, though he didn’t know how long he could last without your warmth again. He needed to have all of you for himself. He’d never be satisfied otherwise.

“Can you take me again?” he asks, not wanting to tire you out entirely. You still had class after this.

You babble out repetitive pleads for more in response and he has to grip his length to calm the throbbing. He couldn’t wait, even for five minutes. You had him completely addicted at the first taste.

“That’s my girl.”

mlist

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alotofpockets · 10 months

Text

On my way | Leighton Murray

Pairing: Leighton Murray x Reader Summary: Leighton takes care of you when you get sick. [Full request] Warnings: Food poisoning and mention of throwing up. Masterlist | Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1.2K

You were fighting your way through your bio-chem class, not because the topic was hard to understand but because your stomach felt awful. This was a very important class, so you wanted to stay until the end to gather all the necessary information for the upcoming exam.

A few rows higher Bela and Whitney were studying your restlessness closely. They couldn't see your face, but they had a feeling something was wrong. When you stood up and ran out of the lecture, their suspicion was confirmed. The teacher looked after you in surprise. "I'll go check on her." Whitney said as she ran after you.

In the meantime Bela texts Leighton, and continues her notes. Knowing how important today’s lecture is.

Bela: Hey, just a heads up, I think y/n is sick. Whit is with her.

Within seconds Bela got a text back.

Leighton: On my way.

Luckily you made it to the restrooms in time, because seconds later you threw up the contents of your stomach. You felt weak as you walked out of the stall and up to the sink. You saw how pale your face was when you looked in the mirror. You take a few sips of water, hoping to get the awful taste out of your mouth. You heard someone walk up to the restroom and tensed, hoping no one had heard you throw up, that would have been embarrassing. When you knew it was Whitney the tension left, not that your girlfriend's roommate and friend hearing what happened would be any less embarrassing, but at least you know that she wouldn't judge you. "Hey, are you okay?" Whitney asks while she hands you some paper towels. You shake your head, not yet feeling like you're able to tall without another wave of nausea overtaking you. You take a few sips of water, hoping to get the awful taste out of your mouth.

Not even a minute later your girlfriend walks into the restroom and is by your side immediately, soothingly rubbing a hand over your back. "Let's get you to a bed shall we?" You nod in agreement, Leighton puts an arm around your waist for support. She guides you to the right, which instantly worries you. "No no, my stuff." Whitney places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "Don't worry, Bela and I will get it and share our notes of course. You just take care of yourself okay." You shoot her a thankful smile but it quickly crumbles as another wave of pain hits your stomach.

Leighton takes you to her dorm room and walks you to her bed. As you sit down, Leighton ruffles through her closed to grab you something comfortable to wear. She lays what she's picked out next to you on the bed and kneels down to take off your shoes. After that she helps you get out of your clothes and into hers. "Okay, all set. Come on, lay down sweetheart." She lifts up the covers for you, and makes sure before she gets up. "I'll be right back, I'm just going to get you some medicine and a glass of water." As promised she was by your side again quickly, you took the medicine and laid right back down. Leighton sat down next to you in her bed leaning her back against the headboard, you lay your head down on her lap, and Leighton is quick to play with your hair. Something she knew would help you relax.

She was right, soon after she started moving her fingers through your hair and gently scratching your scalp, your eyes started to flutter shut. You tried fighting it but as soon as Leighton saw it she said, "It's okay, baby, close your eyes. I'm not going anywhere."

Two hours later you wake up to the sound of the dorm door opening, you try lifting your head off Leighton's lap but you don't have enough strength to do so. "It's okay, it's just the girls getting home." A soft knock on Leighton's bedroom door follows. "Yeah, come in." Leighton says and the door slowly opens to reveal Bela. Once she sees that your eyes are open she walks into the room. "Hey, I brought your stuff. Whit and I emailed you our notes, and Professor Harpin said he would send you some extra information too after we told him what happened. So, you should be all set for the exam. I know you’re probably not thinking about it right now, but if you want you can study with Whit and I, we can all help each other.” - “Thanks Bela, I appreciate it.” Bela nods and walks over to her side of the room. “Alright, I’m just grabbing some stuff before I head over to my Foxy meeting. It’s gonna be an all night session, we’re party hopping to get some inspiration, so please feel free to stay the night. Leighton mouths a ‘thank you’ to Bela before she heads out. The interaction with Bela drained your energy so much that you closed your eyes again.

The next knock on the door doesn’t wake you, Leighton softly tells the person to come in. This time Whitney puts her head around the door, when she sees that you’re asleep she whispers to Leighton, “I’m about to head out, do you need anything before I leave?” Leighton asks for her bag so she can work on her homework and lets Whitney know that besides that they’re fine. “Alright, I’ll see you later. Oh, and I texted Kimberly, she’ll bring y/n some soup on her way back from Sips.” - “Thanks guys, you’re the best.” And with that Whitney leaves as well. Leighton opens up her Math 360 book and starts working on her homework while you’re asleep.

About an hour later you stir awake again. “Baby?” You say with a groggy voice. “Yeah, I’m right here.” Leighton says as she puts down her books and places her hand on your side. “What’s wrong?” You sit up slightly, now leaning into her side. “I’m never having those burritos from the cafeteria again.” She chuckles at your comment, “Okay, baby, I’ll make sure to get you something else to eat on burrito days.” She kisses your forehead and you melt into her. “Wanna watch a movie to get your mind off things?” - “Yes, please.”

Soon after you hear the dormroom open and footsteps heading your way. Another knock sounds on the door, this time it’s Kimeberly. “Hey guys, I hope you’re feeling a bit better, y/n. I brought you some soup, and Leighton, I figured you stayed by y/n’s side, so I brought you something to eat as well.” You take a few sips of the vegetable broth and thank Kimberly. “Yeah, thank you Kimberly, that was really sweet of you.” Kimberly smiles widely, “Of course!” And with that she heads to her own room.

You finish watching the movie in Leighton’s arms. She made sure you got everything you needed and took care of you the whole night. You knew Leighton cared about you, but the way she took care of you tonight made you feel really loved. Domestic Leighton was definitely something you wanted to see more of in the future, hopefully without the food poisoning next time though.

#leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #the sex lives of college girls #tslocg #renee rapp #whitney chase #bela malhotra #kimberly finkle

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jaydizzel2844 · 6 months

Text

Marie x Jordan Drabble

(NSFW)

No. 5

Marie is having a pretty good day. She woke up feeling refreshed to a text from Jordan wishing them good luck in their exam today with a gym selfie from their morning workout. Marie shamelessly enjoyed the picture of their partner sweaty and flexing in their smaller form before heading out.

She skipped breakfast to go straight to the lecture hall her exam’s in to get a bit of last minute cramming in which worked out brilliantly cuz the section that she went over happened to what half the exam was about.

She left the exam feeling like she definitely passed and maybe even aced it. The hunger from skipping breakfast started to set in and just as she was trying to remember if there is a vending machine between her and her next lecture hall that she could hit up in the 10 minutes she had before her class; her amazing partner appeared, holding a Vought burger breakfast sandwich.

“Hey, you mentioned that you were skipping breakfast so I thought you be hungry. “ they said, striding over to her. An anxiety seems to hit them and they continue with. “Sorry if this is weird, you don’t have eat it.”

Marie quickly cut off Jordan’s rambling with a kiss. “Thank you so much, you’re to good to me.”

“I have to go to class but… um… you have a good have a good day.” They said, lightly blushing with their big, toothy grin.

“I will,” Marie said, holding up the sandwich “thanks to you. “

The two parted ways, with Marie scarfing her sandwich on her way to class. Any food would have been appreciated but Jordan got her breakfast order perfect (Eggs, bacon and sausage in a role with extra ketchup and a dash of mustard) so an extra thank you was due.

The rest of her day went similarly well, classes were interesting, she didn’t get much homework and she had a great chat with Emma over lunch.

So yeah Marie was having a pretty good day and hoped to end it with some special time with her boyfriend-girlfriend-themfriend.

***

To Jordan 💙🤍

Hey, I’m done with class for the day. Would you like to hang out?

From Jordan 💙🤍

im just hanging in my dorm

To Jordan 💙🤍

Omw

***

Marie let herself into Jordan’s room (she knows the password) to find Jordan sitting on the couch, furiously pressing buttons on their PlayStation controller.

“Hey, two secs.” They said not taking their eyes off the screen.

“Take your time.” She said, taking off her shoes and putting down her bag. By the time she was done, Jordan had finished and put down the controller.

“Hey, what do you want to do?”

“I’ve got some ideas.” Marie said as she straddled Jordan on the couch, running her hands through their shoulder length hair.

“I like your ideas.” Jordan said smirking. They switched, unsettling Marie a bit as the lap beneath her raised and widened before leaning in for a kiss.

Jordan’s hands quickly found their way to her ass as her own cradled their face.

“You were very good to me today,” Marie said as she made her way to Jordan’s neck, kissing as she goes. “Taking care of me, bringing me food, even got my order right without me having to tell you. You’re so considerate and you pay attention. You’re honestly just the best. I’m so lucky.”

Jordan moaned as Marie kissed these words into their jaw, neck and collarbone. Marie could feel Jordan’s blood rushing south through her powers and reached a hand down to check.

“Someone’s excited.” She smiled, feeling the tangible evidence of her effect on Jordan.

“Yeah, well…”Jordan blushed and looked away. “You’re grinning on my lap and saying nice things to me. What do you expect.”

“I should say nice things to you more often,” she said kisses their cheek. “It wouldn’t be hard, complementing someone as good as you.”

Jordan wimped.

Marie lightly squeezed their crotch, it was fascinating to feel the blood moving beneath her hand. Rushing into the tissue to expand it, pushing the appendage up against the forces of gravity and Jordan’s jeans. She gets a bit too entranced by the sensation and just sits there, feeling it, for a while.

Jordan cleared their throat. “You ok?”

“Yes. Sorry. The blood flow… it’s interesting. Anyway I shouldn’t just sit here holding your dick, that’s weird.” Marie stammered out, blushing furiously. ‘Why do I have to be so fucking weird’ she thought to herself. ‘I’ve exploded the blood in a dick before. This is probably freaking them out. I need to get off them and leave right now.’

“I’m actually totally ok with you holding my dick.” Jordan said with a laugh, their hands on her ass tighten a bit as though they could tell she was about to make a break for it. “You can do whatever you want, I trust you.”

Marie leaned her forehead against Jordan’s, taking a deep breath. “Thanks,” she said, trying to get things back on track as she began to slowly unbutton their jeans “why don’t you show me exactly what you’d like me to do with your dick?”

“Oh I’d be delighted to.”

#gen v #jordan li #jordan x marie #marie moreau #limoreau

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klufu · 1 year

Text

put your head on my shoulder. ✧

description - falling asleep on their shoulders (scaramouche, albedo, tighnari, cyno, aether) modern au!

trying out a new layout... anyways i hope you like these headcanons

mentions - pure fluff, albedo wears glasses, tighnari acting cocky, small snippet of lumine in aether’s part, and highschool au

(this took a while because i was busy, sorry if its rushed)

scaramouche

scaramouche was extremely stubborn when it came to telling him what to do. he would either scoff and complain to himself before complying, or he would glare at you and act like he never heard you.

"come on scaramouche! we're gonna be late for work, the boss is going to lecture us again because of you!" you tried dragging him out of bed by his wrist, but he wouldn't budge. instead, he grumbled and swiped his arm away before going back to sleep.

you sighed, wondering how the hell you're supposed to get him out now. you looked at him and his annoyed impression, before heading to the kitchen to leave him alone for now.

scaramouche smiled to himself, thinking that he could finally get some shut eye without being bothered for once. he started getting comfortable until he heard your footsteps approaching.

he pretended to be asleep, that was until he felt a stinging, cold feeling pouring onto his face. he got up almost immediately from where he was resting, looking at you holding a glass of ice water with a smirk.

he scowled and looked at you with a pissed expression, and your eyes widened, knowing you were done for. he tackled you onto the floor and pinned your wrists, making you yelp. freezing waterdrops dripped from his soaked clothes and hair, and you squealed trying to push him off but to no avail.

"w-wait! you can kill me all you want when we get back from work, but we really should be going now!" you said in a tremulous voice. he gave you the death stare for a couple of seconds before finally releasing you.

he got up and locked himself in the restroom, probably to take a shower and dry himself off from what stunt you just pulled. you sighed out of relief, and hurried out the door to wait for him instead of receiving more dirty looks.

...

both of you got into the subway and looked around for an vacant place to sit. in the corner were two seats that looked open, so you grabbed scaramouche's hand and pushed through the crowd.

just as you were about to sit, scaramouche sat in the middle of both seats and gave you a sly smile. he was still heated, so he wanted to get back at you for that. you put your hand on your forehead and shook your head, groaning at how childish he could be. you held onto a pole instead.

as the subway started to deport, scaramouche noticed how you weren't holding onto the pole properly. one push and you could fall over completely. he opened his mouth to tease you, but he noticed that you were closing your eyes.

he crossed his arms and mumbled to himself before pulling you onto him. he sat you in the seat beside him, wrapping an arm around your waist so you wouldn't fall in the opposite direction. your head flopped over onto his shoulder unconsciously, catching him off guard.

he carefully looked over at your peaceful resting face, admiring how beautiful your aspects were. he looked away and started to drift to sleep as well. you wrapped your arms around his while you were asleep, unbeknownst to you.

little did both of you know that you weren't making it on time to work after all.

albedo

albedo holds the end of the pen against his lips, carefully deciding how he’s going to write out the solution to the equation that sits in bold letters on top of the paper in front of him.

he taps the pen against the table impatiently, too engrossed in the subject to realize that you were standing behind him.

“what are you doing here, albedo?”

he nearly flinches when you leaned down to whisper in his ear. his body relaxed, knowing that it was only you. “i am studying for the upcoming exam, (name.) do you require anything from me?”

you give him a shrug before grabbing the seat next to him and pulling it closer to where he is. you sit and closely watch his movements.

albedo doesn’t falter at this. after all, he’s never been bothered whenever you observe him. his lips curve to form a small smile, but he focuses on his work so you wouldn’t see it.

you drag the chair you were sitting in closer to him which made a loud squeaking noise. he quickly puts his hand on your arm to tell you to be quiet, with his finger on his lips. “don’t make so much noise. they’ll kick us out of the library again,” he chuckled.

“ah, sorry sorry. i just wanted to get closer. seriously, they really have to get better chairs next time,” you joked. albedo simply nodded and proceeded to write something on a notebook to which you payed no mind to. you sighed, sitting in silence with him for what seemed like minutes.

“hey.. albedo. you’ll be here for awhile, won’t you?” albedo nodded his head and looked at you as you started to shift in your seat. “are you leaving? it is a bit late, actually. here, i’ll drive you hom-“ he gets interrupted when you lean your head on his shoulder.

“there’s no need. i’ll keep you company here so you won’t feel bored while studying. besides, i missed you,” you mumble, leaning in more while wrapping your arms around his torso. he gulps, a sudden warmth rushing to his cheeks he was all too familiar with.

he continues to do his work for a few minutes before your eyes start to feel heavy. the smell of vanilla coming from albedo’s cardigan and the gentle scribbles of a pen make you fall asleep, shifting your weight onto the man beside you.

he adjusts his glasses to find you dreaming contently on his shoulder. he smiles, running a hand through your hair that further soothes you. he presses a kiss to your cheek, looking at you again before returning to the paper in front of him with you in his mind.

tighnari

the sound of wind brushes past your ears and the sweet aroma of flowers makes you certain that you would find tighnari in a place like this. he has a sense of belonging around wildlife, always taking in the beauty of what life has given him.

you hear rustling in a tree above you, peering up to be met with an apple falling onto your head. you curse to yourself, rubbing the spot that you’ve been hit. you look up again to see tighnari looking back at you, lounged comfortably on a tree branch eating a fruit. he simply sneers while you frown at him.

“did i hit you just now? well, it’s only natural. i thought a bear was approaching to come and eat me,” he said sarcastically, feigning innocence. you grit your teeth, and it seems to make him more amused.

“you-! you little brat, that hurt! come down right now so i can kick your ass!” you yell. silence passes before he bursts out laughing and you stare at him looking stunned. “y-you’re going to kick my ass, is that what you said? how interesting,” he giggles to himself before jumping off the branch and onto the grass.

the air felt tense around you as he stared at you like a predator circling its prey. you gulped down your nervousness, gradually taking a step back every time he stepped towards you. he smirked before quickly making his move.

the second he jumped at you, you stepped to the side and ran away. he smiled playfully, feeling more excited than before. “shit! don’t come near me, tighnari!” you yelled nervously, not wanting to turn back as he was already chasing you.

whenever tighnari felt to be in an extremely playful mood, there was no stopping what he would do. he wouldn’t give up until he got what he wanted. perhaps it was his animalistic tendencies, or maybe it was just the thrill of getting what he desired. you tried to outrun him, but he ended up catching up to you anyway.

“caught you, (name).”

you shrieked when he suddenly pulled you by your arms closer to him. his grin was unnerving, not knowing what he was about to do next.

all of your worries are washed away when a chaste kiss is pressed to your forehead. you’re even more confused now, wondering why he chased you down only to do such an innocent action which was totally unexpected.

furthermore, you were also confused about the strange feeling in your heart that ached when he pulled away.

"what.. did you just do to me?" you gulped, looking up at tighnari with a flushed expression. he only gave a cheeky smile, the one you hated but loved about him the most.

he offered your hand to you, and you hesitantly took it. you were curious about what he was going to do next, but you didn't let your guard down at all.

he led you to a beautiful tree, scarlet leaves falling with an overall breath-taking sight. you looked at it with admiration, while tighnari looked at you in the same way. he found it adorable, but his pride would never let him admit that.

you snapped out of your dazed state when you felt a tug at your hand. tighnari sat against the bark of the tree, patting the ground next to him to signal for you to take a seat. you complied, and he brought you closer.

for a moment, you relaxed in his arms, until you remembered that you weren't supposed to give in. you were about to stand up until he gently pressed your head against his neck. he hushed and reassured you, and just like that all your worries were washed away.

you sighed contently, closing your eyes while holding onto the boy beside you. he hummed a slow tune, enough to lull you to sleep just by his voice. he chuckled to himself before pressing another kiss to your forehead, watching you with a loving expression on his face before you fall asleep completely.

cyno

the silver haired boy sat in silence as he stared at his reflection in the glass. despite his intimidating appearance, he puts effort into being friendly by telling lame jokes. but that only seems to irk them more and drive them away.

he frowned, looking at his appearance once more. was it his eyes? he doesn’t intend to be feared over on purpose, but knowing him he could send a chill running down your spine in a mere matter of seconds with one blink of an eye if he dared to do so.

he stood up in his seat by a call of his name. he turned his head around to be met with a smile on your face.

he had to admit, he had a small crush on you. you weren’t afraid of him at all, dismissing all of the comments that would be told when people saw you two walking together in the hallway. he admired your boldness, especially your friendly personality.

he snapped back to reality when you put your hand on his desk, trying to get his attention. “my apologies, (name). what seems to be the matter?”

“i totally flunked my biology test today!” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i didn’t know it’d be that hard, i even studied all night,” you said, handing him the paper with your test score.

cyno picked up the paper and examined it, humming before placing it down on his desk. “i can identify some minor errors that led to these answers. if you’d like, i could hel-“

“that’s great!” you blurted out, immediately grabbing a chair next to you while dragging it towards the desk that cyno was seated at. he looked at you with his mouth agape, quickly ignoring the fast beating of his chest to face you with a calm expression.

he helped you through the test as time passed by without both of you noticing. occasionally, he threw in a few humorous remarks to make it more entertaining, even though he knew he would only get a disappointed sigh in return.

to his surprise, you actually beamed with laughter. he didn’t know how he did it, but something about the way you looked so joyous made something inside him stir. his cheeks bloomed into a red shade, which he covered up by pressing his sleeves against his face.

after you stopped laughing, a giddy smile worked its way onto your face, showing cyno how unbelievably funny his joke was. he was swoon right then and there, moving onto a different topic before his heart decided to burst.

he hadn’t realized how the distance between both of you started to close in, was it always this close? your chair was practically right next to his, and your shoulders were already touching each other. he swallowed, dismissing the thought.

he felt an extra weight being pressed against his shoulder. he turned his head to see what it was, and he almost died on the spot.

there you were, sleeping soundly on his shoulder like a cliché scene straight out of a romance movie. his heart started to beat out of his chest, not knowing what to do.

he was thankful that you came to him afterschool, otherwise anybody seeing both of you right now would spread the sight like wildfire. he remained his composure, gently shaking your body to wake you.

you responded with an annoyed grumble, scooting closer to cyno for more warmth. he was out of ideas on what to do so he laid there with you wrapped around his arm. his stomach was practically swarming with butterflies, he wouldn’t deny that he’s never yearned for a moment like this, cliché or not.

he breathed out and continued to finish the work for you. he would probably just wake you up later once more so you can get a proper nap, but for now he wanted to embrace this.

he smiled, writing as his eyes stayed focused on the paper with his mind full of you.

aether

ink dragged across the paper to reveal your handwriting. you blocked out the chatters happening in the room to focus solely on the assignment in front of you. you had to get it done fast, otherwise you'd have to come in early in the morning next week to finish it.

the bell rang and the students around you quickly grabbed their bags and left, excited for the weekend plans they were having. you on the other hand, were stressed about turning this in on time. you decided you were going to sleep in the whole weekend, feeling spent while writing faster.

when you finished up the last paragraph, you sighed at last. you could finally rest easy without anything having to bother you until the next week.

as soon as you were about to pack your stuff up to head home for the day, aether barged into the empty classroom with an exhausted expression. you almost fell over when he came running towards you.

"(name)!! there you are! i was looking for you to ask if you wanted to come over today, or at least walk home together," he said with a cheery expression, despite running across the entire campus just to catch up to you.

you straightened up with your bag in your hands. "i'd be happy to. i didn't have any original plans for today anyway," you chuckle. aether's face lit up as he suddenly took your hand and dashed out of the classroom with a smile on his face.

you held onto him tightly as if you were about to fall if you didn't keep moving. why was he so fast!? sure, he was at the top of all of his classes including sports, but what was he in a rush for?

when both of you reached the gate, aether's name was called out by another teacher. aether groaned to himself, almost so quiet that you wouldn't be able to hear if you weren't so close. aether turned around and gave his signature smile.

"oh, aether! i'm sorry to bother you at this time but could you please help me out with the books at the library? they're quite heavy to carry around, and i'm sure you are capable of this task," she chuckled. aether looked at you and then looked back at the teacher, before sighing.

“of course, just give me a se-“ “actually, he should be heading home now, he’s pretty busy today,” you spoke up, aether looking at you with widened eyes. the teacher looked shocked too, before continuing.

“ah, no worries! it’s the weekend anyway, i don’t want to be taking all of your fun after all,” she smiled. “have a good day, you two!” she said, before heading back into the school.

aether was still frozen in place until you took his hand and started walking in the direction of his house. he was caught by surprise, but nonetheless followed.

“you don’t always have to say yes to everyone y’know. people have their own problems that they can deal with. i know it sucks to be the errand boy of the school,” you frowned. aether looked down, letting your words sink in.

“i know that, but i still feel the need to help people. i’m not being forced obviously, but it feels nice to know that i’m being counted on,” aether’s hand tightened around yours, and you could tell that he felt sad.

minutes of silence passed until both of you reached his doorstep. he was about to put his bag down until you took it for him and headed in. he was confused by this gesture, until you finally uttered words under your breath.

“if everyone’s going to count on you for help, who’s going to help you when you need it?“ you scoffed, turning around so he wouldn’t see your face.

“…if you need anyone to talk to, i’ll be there. i’ll always be there for you.”

although he couldn’t see your face, he could tell that you were being genuine. his lips curved upwards to form a smile, one that showed that he was grateful for you.

you walked upstairs to aether’s room before he could say anything to you. you passed lumine on your way there with a quick “hello,” to which she greeted you back. aether was right behind you until lumine stopped him.

“you didn’t do the laundry today, didn’t you?” she groaned, crossing her arms and blocking aether’s path. he tried moving past, but lumine kept blocking him. he sighed, “i’ll do the laundry later! (name) is over here today, i have to spend time with them as much as i can.”

lumine raised her eyebrow, looking at him with a teasing tone. “you still don’t have a crush on them, do you? come on, don’t tell me you didn’t know everyone knew you were head over heels for (name),”

aether’s cheeks flushed up in embarrassment, shoving lumine out of the way to get to his room and slam the door. “don’t forget about the laundry aetherrrr!!” she shouted out from behind it, which he was pressed up against.

he finally relaxed until he remembered that you were sitting atop his bed, looking up at him with concern. “what was that about?” you asked nervously. he quickly waved his hands around saying it was nothing, sending the thought away.

you took a deep breath and yawned, taking aether’s attention. “are you tired?” he asks, walking up to the bed and sitting down closely to you.

you nod your head, gently leaning closely to him with your head resting on his neck. he smiled, “go ahead and get some rest then. it’s been a long day, i’m sure you’re exhausted,” he states, pulling the blanket over both of you.

he sighs contently, holding you close to him while falling asleep with you.

936 notes · View notes

sl-newsie · 7 months

Text

Mature (Dr. Spencer Reid x College Student)

(Summary: The BAU gets a case that takes place near a college campus, and one student seems to catch Reid’s attention. There is a bit of an age gap. This is based during the end of Season 6. Warnings: Talk of cannibalism, gun violence)

“Remember class: Monday’s exam will have 150 questions and no makeups. Remember to study hard!”

My dental hygiene professor finally releases us, signaling the beginning of the weekend. It’s currently 5:30 on a sunny but crisp Friday in October. Nothing special, but the lack of leaves and chilly frosts makes it one of my favorite seasons. But I can’t take too much time to watch the weather- I’ve got work to do.

Of course I’m the only student who dares to sit in the front of the lecture hall, and I take my time to gather up my things as the others start filing out.

“You going to the game tonight?” One guys asks his friends.

“Yeah it’s gonna be sick! You’re bringing the beer, right?”

“Sure am! And what about-” He whispers: “The pot?”

Their conversation dies away as the walk out of the room, leaving me to shake my head in disappointment. No doubt their whole weekend will involve drinking, getting high, and possible sexual content. More than likely they’ll fail the exam.

“Merrian! Are you coming to the game?” I hear one classmate, Regina, ask.

“No, I can’t. I’m going for a jog and then starting my flashcards for the exam.”

Regina, one of the more popular and *cough* snobby girls gives me a fake smile. “Oh you never go to any social events! Why not give that brain a break and be a college student for once?”

I just shake my head and continue to look through my notes. “I am being a college student, only I’m being a smart one and actually trying to get through this class without depleting any brain cells through alcohol abuse.”

But my insult flies right over Regina’s head. She just keeps smiling, turns and walks away, leaving me (no surprise) alone again. But it appears today has something else in store, because the door opens and my professor walks back in leading a group of people who look way too professional for a place like this. The one that appears to be the leader is tall, dark-haired, and is wearing a traditional business suit. The man following next to him appears to be of Italian descent and is wearing a dark suit similar to the leader’s. Next is a blonde woman wearing- quite honestly, one of the most unique outfits I’ve ever seen. It’s a purple and blue patterned dress, hot pink heels, and a big purple bow with her hair in pigtails (it almost puts my current Veronica Sawyer gray skirt and blue blazer outfit to shame). Another man is bald with darker skin and a more athletic build, wearing a more laid-back style of clothing, obviously the muscle of the group. And last behind him is- huh. He’s a lot younger (and much cuter) than the others, one might say a few years older than me. He’s dark-haired like the other men and wearing slacks with a white shirt with a gray vest and blue tie, almost matching me. But what stands apart from his attire is the pistol tucked in a holster attached to his belt. It’s almost like the one I’ve got tucked under my skirt (for protection, of course). Are these guys from the police station? They don’t look like local authorities.

But sadly I’m still in the front and am caught looking.

“Who’s the model?” The blonde with pigtails asks, making me turn pink.

My professor finally notices me. “Oh yes. This is Merrian, one of my students. She’s just packing up-”

“On the contrary, it might be nice to have a younger person’s opinion on this matter,” the Italian agent speaks.

A younger opinion?

“By the way, I love your blazer!” The blonde squeals and rushes over to get a better look.

I title my head. “Not too bad yourself, Barbie.”

But the leader doesn’t seem too impressed. “At ease, Garcia. Remember why we’re here.”

The blonde nods and backs off, leaving me facing the group head-on.

“Is she trustworthy? We need to keep this as confidential as possible,” the athlete says.

My professor nods her head. “Merrian is one of the most dedicated students I have. I guarantee she’ll give you her best effort.”

“Very well.” The leader steps forward to shake my hand. “I’m FBI Agent Hotchner of the BAU. These are Agents Rossi, Morgan, Garcia, and Dr. Reid.” He points to each agent, and when he introduces Agent Reid I can’t help but notice his body language shifts. He keeps playing with his hands and changing his footing, and isn’t as relaxed as the other agents. Maybe he just drank coffee.

I give a small wave. “Hello. So, what is it you guys do? Obviously you’re a government department but I’ve never really paid attention to that stuff.”

“Don’t you watch the news?” The blonde ‘Garcia’ asks.

“Nope.”

This answer gets me surprised reactions, especially from Reid.

“Why not?”

Yes, he’s definitely younger. His voice reminds me of the smart nerd type, but with my educational history I’ve never actually been able to meet many smart guys so it’s very new to hear this.

I shrug. “Ignorance is bliss. I figure if there’s something that’s truly important that’ll affect me then I’ll hear about it sooner or later. I try not to let the fear that strands from current events control my life.”

“Ok. Then to catch you up, we have a potential threat that’s been sited near the edge of town. There’s a man who’s been catching people in hunting traps and then eating them.”

Uh- Oh my! Was not expecting that.

I try to keep a steady face. “Alright. So what does this have to do with me?”

“Your current study of dental work, plus the unsub seems to prefer female victims,” Reid speaks up. “There’s one witness who managed to escape his trap, but not before he bit her. We’ve been able to analyze the teeth marks, but it doesn’t match the correct dental records. They show the unsub’s supposed to be someone who died 10 years ago. We checked the death certificate and sure enough the body’s buried in a nearby cemetery. Do you have any ideas why?”

I take a deep breath and try to piece together what I’ve learned so far. I’ve only been in this program for a year, but that doesn’t mean I’m useless.

“Take your time,” Agent Rossi assures. “It doesn’t have to be much, just anything we might have missed-”

I snap. “I got it! Have any of you guys ever seen the movie The Whole Nine Yards with Bruce Willis?”

Most shake their heads, but then Reid seems to follow my idea.

“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Brilliant, Marrian!”

“Excuse me, mind letting us in on your inside joke?” Agent Morgan questions.

“At the end of the movie, they modify another body’s teeth to match Bruce Willis’ character and then burn it in a fire so the mafia will think he’s dead. What if this unsub had dental work done so he couldn’t be traced? ” My explanation starts the agents sparking up new conversations, leaving me to believe I might have actually just helped solve an FBI case.

“I know it’s not the type of professional answer you might have wanted.”

“That’s just the kind of insight we were looking for,” Agent Hotchner finally addresses me. “Thank you, Merrian. We’ll be sure to stay in touch and inform you if this threat is neutralized.”

He walks out, followed by Morgan. But the others linger for a moment.

“You’re taking all of this surprisingly well,” Rossi points out. “Ever consider becoming a profiler?”

I chuckle. “I did once, a few years ago. Sociology is one of my favorite subjects to learn, but I’ve just used that as a hobby. When I looked further into the job description I decided I wanted a career that wouldn’t take so much out of my free time. So for now I’m sticking with dental hygiene.”

He nods. “Well if you change your mind, here’s my card.” He hands me his contact info and exits after the other 2 agents.

“Tell me- where did you get your shoes?” Garcia asks when she points to my feet.

“Oh. Um, Goodwill actually.” I’m a bit embarrassed to say I’m a thrifter, but in college all money must go to classes.

“They’re so cute! I’ll email you my list of favorite thrift websites later,” she remarks as she walks to the door.

“B- But Agent Garcia you don’t have my email-?”

“I’ll find it.” She winks. “And call me Penelope!”

She gives Reid a smirk and shuts the door, leaving me alone with the last agent.

“I gotta ask, how old are you?”

My blunt question doesn’t seem to be new to him. “30.”

I was right!

“Sorry for asking, but it’s just very different-”

“To see someone like me on a government bureau team,” he finishes. “It’s ok, lots of people ask. I could say the same thing about you.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

He mirrors my confusion. “Aren’t you close to my age?”

“I’m 22.”

Reid’s eyes widen. “No way! You look- I mean, you seem- Um… you don’t act 22.”

I chuckle and go to grab my backpack. “I get that a lot. My mom says I’m more mature than most people my age, which means I have to be forced to associate with immature peers. I just hope other people never assume I’m the typical college type. You know, drugs, drinking, sex, procrastination. I’ve never even gone to one party. I apologize for the idiots you might come across here.”

I expect the FBI agent to leave it at that and go off to find his team, but instead he jogs up behind and walks with me down the hall.

“No I don’t see you like that, it’s just… you’re definitely more mature, and seem more clear-headed than the other students I’ve seen here so far.

I hold my head back and laugh. “Oh, no. By no means am I as smart as you might think. I have what I call ‘selective knowledge.’ I never picked just one topic I like, so I find bits and pieces of information about all kinds of topics. But not too much in depth that I’m an expert. With what I know about you so far I’d say you’re way more smart.”

He looks down. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Spill it. What’s your education background?”

“Um… I’ve got PhDs in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. Bachelor’s in psychology, sociology, and in the process of one in philosophy.”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at him with wide eyes. “And you’re downplaying that? Jesus, you’ve got more knowledge stuffed in your brain then I’d ever have in 5 lifetimes! Why choose a job in the BAU?”

He considers this. “I find that I do some of my best work under intense terror.”

I nod. “It’s nice to know what type of job works best. I’ve jumped around different jobs, and still haven’t found one that fits right. As for the terror thing, props to you for dealing with that on a daily basis.”

Dr. Reid seems surprised. “Hm. You don’t mind crazy talk, do you?”

I stifle a laugh and hold the next door open for him to pass. “‘Crazy talk?’ What’s that?”

“Talking about subjects that any random passerby would find odd, like murder or psychological disease.”

“You’re talking to someone who watches The Conjuring as a comfort film. I don’t call that crazy talk, I call that enjoyable conversation,” I smile cheekily as he walks past me through the doorway. “You gonna go find your team now?”

Reid clears his throat and bites his lip. “Well, um… Since the unsub’s been sighted near the city I should make sure to get you to your dorm safely.”

This unsub must be pretty dangerous for him to be this anxious. Or is it something else that’s got him so worried? I must say it feels nice to have a smart guy to talk with who’s actually taking the time to make sure I’m safe instead of daring me to chug a beer.

“Aw, that’s sweet. But I don’t live in a dorm, I live in a small rented room downtown.”

“Really? I guess you really aren’t like normal students. So where are you going now?”

Is he asking professionally or out of curiosity?

“There’s a secret spot I have in the theatre lab. Dark and quiet with a nice table. Good for studying.”

He perks up. “Dark? Do you think you could show me?”

I shrug and start leading him to the lab, pushing my sleeve back to check my watch. “Sure, just don’t tell anyone. I like having a place where stupidity is at a minimum.”

Reid gets a wide grin on his face and follows eagerly. “Your secret’s safe with me. It’s kind of embarrassing but lately I’ve been dealing with- Oh my gosh! Are you hurt?”

I follow his gaze to my arm, which has gauze wrapped around it. I’m surprised he noticed- usually people don’t give it a second thought.

“Wha-? Oh, no. I donated plasma earlier today and have to keep this on for 2 hours.”

“I see. Do you get paid?”

“Yup. If they’re willing to pay me to sit in a chair for an hour, money is money. Gotta pay the college bills somehow. So what have you been dealing with?”

“Right. Um, I’ve had these headaches for a while now and none of the doctors I’ve seen can tell me what’s wrong. They’re triggered by bright lights, so that’s why I like to find dark places to think.”

Hearing this makes me sad, especially since a nice guy like him shouldn’t have to go through something like that.

“Then don’t have me keep ya waiting. Here we are!”

Now we’re at the theatre lab and when I open the door to let him in, Reid . “So then how are you liking your dental hygiene clinicals?”

I set my backpack down and switch a small light on. “I like it, but it’s more of a job that pays well and allows me free time. Next summer I’m looking into a program that gives me a certificate in culinary pastry design-” I stop myself before I start ranting. “Sorry, I don’t mean to talk your ear off. People don’t always listen this long so I usually just talk to keep away any awkward silence. Americans are intimidated by it, you know.”

Agent Reid just nods and sits down on a nearby stool. “I don’t mind. I like hearing you talk.”

“But it’s not as intellectual as you’re used to.”

“Maybe not, but- how should I describe it? You’re like a funfetti cake.”

Reid’s analogy makes me giggle and give him an odd look. “Um, thanks? How so?”

“Because you’re not just one flavor. You bring a sprinkling of all different topics, and none of them are boring or immature. Go ahead, continue.” Reid sits back as if he’s sitting in for a lecture, and I’m the teacher.

“Um… ok. So anyways, between work, school, and all my other hobbies it’s no surprise when I keep telling my mom I haven't gone on a date-”

“Wait, seriously?” Reid interrupts. “You’ve never gone on a date?”

I try to ignore the heat rushing to my cheeks and go turn on the music speaker. “Never got a chance to. Back in high school I was more introverted and read all the time. Now no one wants to be around a boring, mature college student who dresses… like this.” I gesture to my unusual outfit.

“Hm. I’d think you would’ve been able to find at least one decent guy.”

I’m not sure if he’s kidding or just trying to be nice.

“Don’t make me laugh. Even the few guys I’ve talked to see me as a colleague or acquaintance, not even friendship status. I’ve steered clear of all the red flags and bad habits college kids typically get into, and it’s gotten me this far. All I’ve got is some family, my cat, and my brain.”

Reid doesn’t say anything, and a part of me is glad for it while the other half is a nervous wreck. While I don’t want to really get into the details of my miserable social life, at the same time I’m strangely anxious about what the handsome doctor thinks of me.

“It’s the musical season, isn’t it? I can tell you’re a fan.” How does he-? “I’m guessing on account of the Newsies sticker on your water bottle and your outfit that resembles Veronica Sawyer from Heathers.”

A smile grows on my face. “Oh! A profiling genius and a theatre fan! You’ve got quite the brain, Dr. Reid.”

“I actually only recently got interested in it after watching one of Garcia’s plays- oh! You actually remembered!” Reid scratches his head and smiles. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“People don’t always address me by my full title. So what’s on your agenda now?” He seems to rethink and adds: “Not that I’m being nosy!”

His curiosity isn’t uncomfortable for me. If anything it’s nice to have someone take an interest.

“I was going to practice for musical auditions, but since you’re here I’ll just do some homework.”

“Oh I don’t mind! Really! I won’t laugh, promise,” Reid says sincerely.

“No, no. I do my best work alone, as always.”

He frowns. “That’s not a healthy mindset.”

I chuckle darkly. “I’m not exactly the ‘teamwork makes the dreamwork’ kinda gal. I’ve always done best on my own, so I don’t argue it-”

“Attention, attention!” The intercom starts blasting an alarm overhead. “There has been a potential shooter spotted near the edge of campus. All students, staff, and visitors are to head immediately towards a sheltered area. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill!”

Agent Reid immediately goes alert and checks his pistol. “We better get to a more secure location. Come with me!”

He goes for the door, but I don’t see a reason to leave.

“No, you go find your team. I’ll stay here. It’s a hidden spot, anyway.”

But Reid shakes his head with concern and takes my hand. “No, I can’t allow that. If the unsub is here he’ll go after you. You’re his type, Marrian, and I won’t let you get hurt.”

Wow. I’m sure he’s just doing his job. Still it’s becoming incredibly difficult to ignore the growing affection for the geeky agent. And it doesn't help that normally I’m a very anti-touching person.

He pulls out a cell phone and dials a number. “Hotch, this is Reid. What’s your location?” After a few moments he says: “Yes, I’m here with the student we interviewed in the theatre lab. We’ll meet you there. Yeah I know, we’ll be careful.” Reid seems to notice my slight reaction to his physical touch and his hold tightens. “I need you to stick close to me, understand?”

I nod and follow him out. “This is… definitely not what I planned for a regular Friday evening, but as my mom always says I need to stay open-minded. Lead the way, Dr. Reid!”

His stern face lightens by a fraction. “Um, you can call me Spencer if you want.”

Is- Is he trying to flirt? Seriously, I wouldn’t know. Somebody tell me!

“Isn’t that less professional? I thought you FBI guys were all suits and no humor.”

He doesn’t answer and triple-checks the hallway before signaling the all-clear. We quietly make our way to the main office, and the whole time I’m trying to ignore Reid’s hand clutching mine.

“We'll be able to-”

“Look out!” I push Spencer out of the way just as a bullet flies past my head, but I’m not too lucky with the second one. It buries itself in my left shoulder blade and the sudden force sends me crashing to the cold floor.

“Oh my God!” Reid shouts and kneels down to address my wound.

“Well hello, my pretty,” a deep sinister voice chuckles. A figure in a black hood lurks out from the corner, with a hunting rifle pointed directly at Spencer.

“I’ve gone too far this time, too far to disappear. But I’ve got one more chance, right? That’s right.” He points at me, the gun wedged pointed on his shoulder. “I’ve been watching you, girly. And I like you. Your healthy diet is most delightful, and…” He gets a twisted look with a sinister smile on his face. “Such a pretty face…”

“You leave her alone!” Reid speaks sternly.

I turn to find him pointing his pistol at the unsub, but the man just laughs.

“My my, Dr. Reid. You’ve grown quite attached to this woman. I’m almost sad to have to kill her and end such a blooming young love.”

Love? I don’t know who this guy thinks he is, but he’s creeping me out! Still not what I planned for a regular Friday evening…

The unsub starts to creep closer, and before I know it I’m backed against the wall with Spencer at my right.

“Don’t you touch her!” Reid shouts. “Stand back or I will shoot!”

“Oh no you won’t, Dr. Reid!” The unsub turns angry. “You won’t, or else I will skip my evening meal and blow a hole in this girl’s brain right now!”

He’s going to kill me… Eat me… Oh God. But I can’t let him hurt Spencer. His life is worth a thousand times more, and I couldn’t stand to see him get hurt.

The unsub is still focused on Spencer, so while he’s distracted I slowly inch my hand towards my skirt, almost to my concealed pistol-

Bam!

The unsub fires what seems like a warning shot and in the sudden chaos Reid fires his gun too. Reid doesn’t get shot, and instead his own bullet buries itself in the unsub’s calf. He stumbles out of sight around the corner.

“Quick! In here!” Reid pulls me into a nearby classroom and shuts the door. “Are you in pain?”

Yes! Every inch of skin in my shoulder is screaming at me and the adrenaline is starting to wear off, allowing the pain to escalate. But I need Reid to focus on the task at hand.

“I’m fine. I’m fine…” My head starts to feel dizzy and I put a hand to my shoulder, pulling it away to find it covered in blood.

“No you’re not fine. Here-” Spencer takes off his tie and does a makeshift tourniquet near my acromial region. “It won’t last long, but it’s the best I can do.” He kneels down and starts searching through his pockets. “I’m all out of bullets!”

“My… my skirt. Under my skirt…”

He lifts the fabric up to reveal my pistol. “When did you get that?”

“Since I turned 21, but I’m too dizzy to shoot it. Take it!” Reid removes my pistol from its holster, using careful hands to show modest intentions. “Now go. Go stop him.”

“But if you don’t keep appropriate pressure on it then you could bleed out!”

“Just go! I’ll figure it out. I don’t care if I pass out, you gotta go stop him and end this.”

I’m pretty sure Reid’s now speaking through panic mode. “No you can’t die! I still need to ask you out!” Did I hear that right?

“You- what? I think I’m starting to blank out. You need to what?”

But Reid doesn’t answer. He just rubs a hand through his messy hair in frustration, while all I can do is slowly slip in and out of consciousness. When he’s decided his next move he leans down and kisses my forehead, and if it weren’t such an unusual situation I’d actually have butterflies in my stomach.

“I’ll be right back, Merrian. I promise.”

And just like that he sprints out. I don’t know how long it’s been, but soon I hear gunshots in the hall and all I can do before I pass out is pray that Spencer’s ok…

“She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’ll live.”

“Quiet an injury. She’s lucky you were with her.”

“And where is she going to?”

My mind buzzes to life and I start to become aware of my surroundings, opening my eyes to find myself in a hospital bed. My arm has an IV. More than likely they’ve given me morphine for pain control. But the biggest relief is when I see Reid talking to one of the doctors at the foot of the bed.

“Spencer… you’re ok,” I croak through a groggy voice.

He notices I’m awake and quickly rushes over to give me a gentle hug. I see he has no wounds, another relief.

“God Merrian, I’m so sorry. I was supposed to protect you-” He whispers into my hair.

“No, don’t worry about me. You did all you could, Spencer. Is the unsub taken care of?”

He nods repeatedly. “Yeah. I shot him dead right after I left, but by the time I got back you’d already blacked out-”

“Excuse me sir,” the doctor steps forward. “I’m afraid she has to be transferred now.”

I look up with wide eyes. “Transferred? Where? What do you mean?”

“The bullet nicked one of your main arteries,” the doctor explains in a calm voice. “We don’t have the proper tools or expertise to perform the surgery on your shoulder, so you are being transferred to Grand Rapids.

“Then I’m going with her,” Reid pipes up.

“I’m sorry sir, but unless you are a guardian or next of kin then you cannot accompany the patient-”

“She’s the victim of a BAU unsub. That makes this a government matter so I should be able to find an excuse to go-”

“No you can’t, Reid.”

We all turn and find Agent Hotchner, along with the rest of the BAU team, walking into the room.

“We’ve been called back to Quantico. I’m afraid you need to say your goodbyes now.”

Spencer and I exchange disappointed looks, but I figure good things must come to an end. All this unsub business is enough excitement to last me a long time, even though I am sad to see the handsome agent go.

“I’ll be fine, Spencer.” I give him a small smile. “Go do what you do best.”

He nods, seeming to debate something in his head. “I- I’m glad I got to meet you, Merrian.”

I chuckle. “I should be the one saying that about you, the great Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Spencer returns my laughter and takes my hand again. “Feel better. I know from personal experience that recovering from a gunshot is no easy task. I’ll come visit as soon as I have free time. And… I’d like to take you out sometime, maybe someplace where you won’t get shot?”

His question is asked as if it’s a simple classroom inquiry, but it’s making my heart jump (unfortunately shown by the heartbeat monitor). I can tell Reid’s nervous just as I am, but I know it’s all part of the dating ritual.

“I’d like that.”

He cocks his head. “What part?”

“The not being shot part is definitely a perk, but I’d like to finally go on my first date. With you.”

Spencer gets excited and I can already see the wheels spinning in his head just as Agent Hotchner calls for Reid to get going.

“I- I’ll see you later, then! Hope you won’t mind me ranting about literature by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?”

I squeeze his hand just as the paramedics start to get me ready to leave. “It’s a date, Spencer.”

Reid’s POV

The ride on the Jet is quiet, and as usual I chose to read alone in a corner. This time I’ve chosen Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie, most appropriate for the upcoming holiday in a few weeks.

“Hey loverboy! You gonna join us for a card game?” Morgan smirks from the table. “Or is your head too fuzzy thinking about your new friend?”

“You do know I could still beat you, right?” I ask matter-of-factly.

“Screw cards! I wanna hear all about the boy genius’ new girlfriend!” Garcia giggles.

I just shake my head and turn back to my book, ignoring their gossiping chatter. I won’t let their teasing get to me. Ever since Emily died my mind’s been in a fog, but meeting Merrian seemed to snap me back into reality. Give me something to hope for. All I know is I can’t wait to get time off so I can see her again…

#criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #criminal minds fandom

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moonchildreads · 10 months

Text

small town

Chapter 19 - We Built This City

IN THIS CHAPTER: Finals week, a friendly invitation, and the Hellfire Class of 86' takes a bow [7.6k]

WARNINGS: vague foreshadowing, mentions of fantasy violence? they play dnd, it's not real (again, taking the liberty of making them play 5e because i wasn't about to learn advanced dnd for this when i already play 5e)

A/N: whew! didn't think i'd ever get to finish this one lol. huge HUGE shout out to @gutterratt, who not only is a wonderful friend i was hugging and sharing the same air with just a few days ago, but also my dm (the best dm in the world, don't @ me). this chapter would have been impossible without your guidance, knowledge, and support. thank you for teaching me to dm through eddie. also shout out to brian murphy and NADDPOD for the inspiration for this chapter! check them out on spotify if you like dnd podcasts, they deserve all the love they get. onto the update!

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

We just want to dance here Someone stole the stage They call us irresponsible Write us off the page

Wednesday, May 28th - 1986

Finals week in Hawkins High was going pretty well or terribly wrong depending on who you asked. On Monday, freshman Cindy Jackson had come out of her Geography classroom sobbing, claiming that she had flunked the entire test and her GPA was going to fall drastically below average. Dustin and Mike had simply stepped around her in the hallway and headed to the parking lot to get their bikes without sparing a single thought for her. Eddie couldn’t believe how calm he felt whenever he sat down at his desk and a new test was placed in front of him. By the time Wednesday lunch period was upon them, he had already taken four of his six final exams, Dottie had taken five of her nine, and band practice had been suspended so everyone could study for tomorrow’s new round of tests, or in Eddie’s case, put the finishing touches to their upcoming D&D Friday session.

So far, their plan to stick to each other and not walk around the school alone like sitting ducks for the bullies had been working. Dottie only shared one class with Andy Humphrey, and it seemed that her threat to rat him out to their teacher had worked because no one in the basketball team had bothered them since then. At least, not any more than the usual jeers and disgusted glances they so often directed to her friends in Hellfire. Eddie had been keeping a low profile for the past couple of months, his entire thought process having been claimed by his ever growing crush on a certain short curly-haired girl; his frequent tirades in the cafeteria had been reduced to only one loud proclamation in the hallways every couple of weeks, and to be completely honest, no one cared about him or his unconventional opinions so close to the end of the school year, so him suddenly turning into a wallflower hadn’t really been noteworthy to his peers. Everyone just simply assumed that he was stressed about failing senior year for the third time in a row and left him alone to his devices.

When the group compared schedules on Monday and saw that Dottie was going to be headed to the same lecture as Andy three times that week, it was quickly decided that Donny would be her guardian since his Italian lessons were at the same time she’d be taking AP Spanish in the classroom opposite of his. Dustin and Mike were to be inseparable, and when they had different schedules, Mike was supposed to shadow Nancy as much as he could while Dustin stuck to Jeff on their way to the east wing for their respective classes. Eddie watched over Dottie like a hawk during their shared free periods, going so far as to stand outside the girls’ bathroom while she went about her private business in case any idiot got strange ideas about cornering her in a place where she was supposed to be safe. Ms. Kelly had looked very surprised to see all six boys waiting for Dottie to come out of their latest check-in session; it was strange to see how subdued they had all gotten in recent months and she knew it had everything to do with the sunshine girl that happily linked arms with the freshmen, Dustin excitedly skipping alongside her down the hallway while Mike dragged his feet next to them in protest.

It was, perhaps, that false sense of security that had her approaching the basketball team’s table after students had begun trickling out of the cafeteria, surely headed to their last classes of the day. Donny was supposed to safeguard her on their way to her second AP Spanish class of the week, but he had asked her to please wait for him near the teachers while he excused himself to the bathroom and promptly left her alone. When Dottie realized Andy wasn’t seated at the jock-filled table but one Lucas Sinclair was, she quickly forgot about her friends’ insistent requests to “lay low” until the school year was over and headed towards him without a second thought entering her mind. She stopped right in front of the freshman who eyed her curiously, brows raised in an unspoken question.

“Hi! You’re Lucas, right?” Dottie said, smiling brightly.

“Uh, yeah, I’m Lucas.”

“Nice to meet you! Would you mind giving these to Erica for me, please?” she extended her closed fist towards him and he instinctively held his palm open for her. Two pieces of shiny plastic hit his skin softly; he recognized them as part of his old dice set, the one he assumed had been gathering dust tucked away in his bedroom. “I must have accidentally taken them with me a couple of weeks ago - I would give them to her myself but I won’t see her until Friday and it’d suck if she bought a new set because she thought she lost these.”

“Yeah, that would really suck,” he chuckled uncomfortably, shifting in his seat knowing his new friends were watching the uncommon interaction unfold. “I’ll give them to her for you, don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you so much! Here, for your troubles,” she gave him a pack of Smarties as payment in kind. “See you around!”

“Thanks,” he managed to mutter before she bolted out of the room and into the hallway in search of Donny.

Lucas stared at the candy bag in his hand next to one d20 and one d4 that had belonged to him a couple of months before. They were black with gold numbers that he’d repainted himself with one of Will’s thinnest brushes, trying his hardest to cover the tacky white underneath. He hadn’t opened his D&D box in a while, the hard plastic container hidden away underneath his bed and pushed all the way back until it touched the wall. He’d yell at Erica for touching and stealing his things, but that would have meant admitting that he still cared about the part of him he’d been trying so hard to deny lately and he couldn’t allow himself to fail like that. Lucas was tired of being the bigger man; let his former friends apologize to him for once. Though, as days went on, he was starting to realize that maybe they would never come back at all.

“How do you know that chick?” asked Chance, one of his seniors.

“I don’t,” Lucas replied quickly. “I don’t have classes with her.”

“She’s a senior,” Patrick said. “I’m with her in English. She always sits with that Munson freak.”

“What does she want with you? Who’s Erica?”

“Erica, she’s my little sister. She wanted to return some dice to her, I think they are in a club together, I don’t know,” Lucas said, but he did know. He’d noticed Dottie sitting at lunch with his club members, he’d seen her wearing the same Hellfire shirt he owned, he’d heard Erica talk about her to their Mom. Lucas Sinclair knew exactly who Dorothy Burke was.

“Isn’t your sister like… eight?” Chance laughed.

“Eleven,” the freshman corrected him, but that seemed to peak Jason Carver, the basketball team’s captain’s attention.

“Your little sister is hanging out with those… freaks?” Jason asked, eyebrows bunching together.

“They play board games together, it’s so dumb-”

“She shouldn’t be around them, she’s just a kid. Who knows what they could do to her if… They aren’t good people, they- they could hurt her,” the captain said, tone stern.

“She’ll be fine, they’re just a bunch of nerds-”

“Lucas,” Jason insisted. “You’re a good friend and a good teammate to us. I’m sure you’re a good son to your parents too, but you have to be good to her as well. That’s your duty as her older brother.”

“Yeah, I-” he quickly put away the dice and Smarties in his pocket and nodded. “You’re right, I’ll talk to her about it.”

“You make sure you do that, okay? Take care of her,” the senior said, patting his shoulder in a friendly way and getting up. “Come on, guys, let’s go to class.”

Lucas walked behind his teammates until he reached his classroom and unassumingly disappeared from the group. He took his seat at the back and noticed Mike and Dustin sitting at the front, bickering with one another as usual. Bitterly, he recalled switching seats with the girl who now sat next to Dustin after Spring Break. Jason wasn’t being mean with his warning, he knew that. His captain had siblings too, he knew what being a big brother meant and he extended that same level of protectiveness towards his friends and younger members of the team. Lucas felt grateful that Jason, the current King of Hawkins High, was so willing to look out for not only him, but Erica too, if only because she was related to him. But when Mike snorted loudly at something Dustin had said, he couldn’t help but think that there weren’t people on Earth he would trust more to take care of Erica when he couldn’t watch her than Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson. And perhaps Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley too, but they didn’t have to know that, lest their egos got even bigger than they already were.

Friday, May 30th - 1986

The last day of finals week came towards them at neck breaking speed, causing Eddie and Dottie to stick to each other like velcro during the final three hours of the day. During third period, he’d had his Latin exam and she sat with him during every available second prior to it quizzing him on his vocab. After that, they both had had their Calc final, where they sat side by side suffering through it all together. He’d finished before her and quickly returned to his seat, noticing how her nerves seemed to be heightened every time someone got up and was granted permission to head to the cafeteria early. He slipped one of his rings off and slid it across the table until it bumped with her eraser; she smiled, thankful, and put it on her index finger to twirl with her left thumb while she concentrated on the numbers in front of her. After that came lunch and everyone was positively buzzing. Most of the student body had already finished all their exams and there was a sense of freedom in the air, a shared joy that couldn’t enter Dottie’s brain yet as she frantically reviewed her AP Spanish notes for her ninth final exam of the week. One look at her tired, wet eyes after someone had shouted a little bit too loud, and Eddie pulled her out of the room and into the back of his van where she could finally breathe and concentrate on reading her own writing before the bell rang.

After exams were finally over, Eddie headed to the woods to wait for Chrissy who had asked him if she could buy a rather unusual amount of weed considering her casual habits, and Dottie seeked refuge in The Weekly Streak’s newsroom until it was time for Hellfire to begin. She was helping Fred put together a mockup for a story he wanted to present to Nancy the next week when the editor-in-chief herself asked her if she wanted to go to the bathroom. Dottie, being well-versed in girl language, accepted without complaint and followed the blue-eyed girl into the nearest bathroom where she immediately began washing her hands in an attempt to hide the fact that she was so very much nervous about whatever she was about to say.

“Nance? Is everything okay?” Dottie asked, eyeing her carefully.

“Yeah- yes, everything’s okay. I just… I wanted you to know since you were the one that said I should just go for it so… I called Jonathan.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised that she was getting an update on the topic at all.

“We talked and he says he understands that I’m upset. We didn’t break up but we’re going to take a break, officially this time,” Nancy shut off the water tap and stepped to the side to wipe her hands dry with coarse paper towels.

“Well, how do you feel about that?”

“Good, I think. He says he has a job now, and he’ll go full-time for the summer after graduation so he might be able to save up some money to come see me,” she smiled, hope swimming behind her eyes.

“That’s great, Nancy!” Dottie said, giving a big hug to her friend. Nancy went stiff at first but after a second, she breathed out and hugged her back. “I’m so proud of you, I know that was probably a really hard conversation for you both.”

“It was but… I feel better now. I want to trust him again, and we agree that maybe this will help us get there.”

“So you’re still off the market then? Asking for a friend that’s totally not Fred,” Dottie joked, and Nancy let out a girly giggle that surprised the both of them.

“Off the market, and out of his league,” the editor-in-chief said, playfully stern.

“Oh my god, Nance!” she let out a loud snort that sent Nancy into a fit.

It felt good to laugh like this, to shoulder a silly burden together, to foster a new friendship and be vulnerable with one another. Growing up hadn’t been easy for either girl in wildly different ways, but the summer of ‘86 was right ahead of them and promised greener pastures if one could get the courage to take the first step outside. Nancy hadn’t let herself have a friend for so long. It had been easy with Jonathan - shared trauma bonds you like nothing else in the world after all - but it was undeniable that a part of her had died that day when Barb went missing. Even though Dottie wasn’t Barb, Nancy could feel like Nancy again right that moment, in that bathroom, hiding from their nosy journalist-aspiring colleagues and the junior that kept following her around like a lovesick puppy. She felt herself breathe a little bit easier almost a full year after the nightmare that still woke her up in the middle of night, prompting her to double check the guns she had stashed in the topmost part of her closet so her little sister Holly could never find them by accident.

The door to the bathroom opened and a group of cheerleaders came in, fussing over their makeup and hair before practice began. They were chatting excitedly about an upcoming party, and Nancy and Dottie moved aside to let them get access to the mirrors. They were about to leave when another girl pushed the door open in a frenzy; a slightly out of breath Chrissy Cunningham ran inside in haste.

“Where were you?!” shouted Melissa, rounding on her as soon as the door had slammed itself shut.

“I got held up by a teacher, calm down,” Chrissy lied seamlessly, but her glossy eyes were a dead giveaway to anyone that had spent any significant amount of time with the elder Hellfire members. “What are we talking about?”

“Your boyfriend’s party. What are you gonna wear?” Kathleen asked, putting away her lip gloss.

“Are we allowed to go?” Libby asked, eyes hopeful. Standing next to her was another junior tumbler, Valerie, who was downright pouting at their captain.

“Of course you are!” Chrissy said, taking full advantage of the fact that Jason would never complain about her inviting her younger cheerleader friends if she pouted at him a little. “Everyone is invited. Are you two coming too?”

It took a few milliseconds for Dottie to register that Chrissy was talking to Nancy and her, and she only realized because Nancy quickly put on a friendly smile and shook her head, a quick excuse on her lips.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. I already told my Mom I would babysit my sister. It’s their date night and I’d hate it if they had to cancel,” she said, and Dottie knew she was lying because her eyebrows bunched upwards in the very familiar way they bunched whenever she lied to other people in the school’s newspaper about how great their ideas were.

“Aw, they still go on dates, that’s so cute,” Valerie said, ever the romantic.

“What about you, Dot? Are you coming?” Chrissy asked, ignoring the way her friends looked at her like she was inviting a rabid dog inside for dinner.

“Uh, I- I wasn’t aware there was gonna be a party.”

“It’s tomorrow night at my boyfriend’s house but I’m organizing it so it’s honestly my party,” she giggled, and Dottie swore she’d heard Gareth make that same sound whenever he was high. “We’re saying goodbye to senior year! I just told Eddie you were all invited, you should totally come.”

“You did what?” Melissa asked and Kathleen scoffed.

“It’s our last senior year party. All seniors can come,” Chrissy said in a tone that left no questions to be asked before she turned back to Dottie. “It’s gonna be really fun, we can probably convince Jason to let us play Queen at some point! Please think about it at least? For me?”

“Okay, I’ll- I’ll think about it. For you,” Dottie smiled, and Chrissy grinned.

“We should go now,” Nancy said, interrupting the awkward tension. “Lots of newspaper club things to do.”

“Oh, sure! We’ll see you around!”

Nancy guided Dottie out with a hand on her elbow; Chrissy and Valerie were the only ones that waved them goodbye. Just before the door closed, Melissa snarled “You invited the freaks? What’s wrong with you?” but they never heard what Chrissy replied. They made their way back to the newspaper club’s room in silence, each of them deep in their own thoughts. Nancy realized that she hadn’t been to a party since she’d broken up with Steve, her ex before she’d started dating Jonathan. Had it really been that long? It seemed like it had been ages since the last time Nancy tried to act like she was a normal teenager, like she didn’t need to keep a light on while she slept, scared of the shadows in the corner of her own bedroom. Like she didn’t have sleeping pills issued by a military doctor that she refused to take hidden inside a pair of old sneakers. Nancy would never be the same Nancy she was before November 8th, 1983, but she had to try.

“We should go,” she said, Dottie’s head snapping up from the papers in front of her. “To Chrissy’s party.”

“You wanna go?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“O-okay! I can ask my Dad to take us if you want,” Dottie offered.

“I drive, I can pick you up if you want.”

“Sure, if that’s better for you. Thank you!” the brown eyed girl smiled. “I actually haven’t been to any parties since senior year began.”

“We better make this one count then,” Nancy said, and went back to work with a timid but happy expression on her face.

Dottie tried really hard not to grin, but the thought of not only being invited to her first high school party in Hawkins, but also going with her newest friend and possibly her Hellfire gang made her impossibly giddy. Senior year had certainly sucked royal ass when it began, but it was definitely ending with a bang, not a whimper.

As Eddie ticked final after final on his list, he had allowed himself to think that he would be DMing his last session as the leader of the Hellfire Club that Friday. He had carefully crafted an emotional ending to the adventure they were currently on, and hoped his players would be on board to having a less action packed meeting than usual. They were, after all, not only saying goodbye to him as a leader, but also Jeff, Gareth, Donny, and Dottie. When classes started again in September, Mike and Dustin would be sophomores and the club would be in their hands, new sheep ready to be recruited walking down the hallways of Hawkins High.

The session had started, as usual, with a recap of the previous session's shenanigans. After finding out that their dead mutual friend Orfuel wasn’t, in fact, dead but instead trapped within Shadowfell, the party quickly realized what their next move was: to embark on a journey towards the Forest of Moonstone where Jeff’s character Tharivol had grown up and lived in, all in search for guidance and help of his elders. Orfuel’s partner in crime and girlfriend, Dedlock, had sacrificed him to Mask, the Lord of the Shadows, and was being kept in his divine realm inside Shadowfell - a castle known as the Shadow Keep. Dedlock wanted to rise above the ranks in the church of Mask, and this worthy act of manipulation was going to give her entry into the Circle of the Gray Ribbon, which is where his most loyal priests belonged.

The table was buzzing in excitement as they traveled through Eddie’s carefully crafted world in what would be their last time exploring it. They took their time on their way over to Moonstone, Eddie forcing them into lengthy conversations around a campfire, sharing stories about Orfuel and how they’d become such good friends with him that they were all willing to cross planes of existence to get him back in their lives. They attuned weapons and readied spells, and got a long rest in before the final challenge of the campaign finally arrived. Upon arrival to the Forest of Moonstone, they immediately seeked an audience with the druid that had taught Tharivol everything he knew. The slender elf advised them against their plan; they simply weren’t powerful enough to face the dangers of Shadowfell at this point in time. Instead, he proposed a different alternative.

The next steps were quite easy. They would wait until the new moon, which was, coincidentally, that same night. They’d hold a ritual to open a portal between the planes and bring back Orfuel from the terrible place he had been banished to. The eldest, most powerful cleric from the Circle, a halfling cleric named Portia, would guide them through the ritual, and they’d all have to contribute, each in their own time whenever Eddie prompted them to act. Between conversations and preparations, it was getting late, and so Eddie proposed a little bathroom break before the ritual began, which the boys accepted gratefully, cans of soda littering the table. Dottie inched her chair towards him, voice low like she was about to tell him a secret.

“So,” she began.

“So,” he said, curiosity piqued.

“I talked to Chrissy today and she invited me to a party.”

“Did she now?”

“Nancy and I are going.”

“Oh?” Eddie’s eyebrows rose. “Didn’t know you were interested in that.”

“I’m not but Nancy asked me to and I dunno, it could be fun. Our last senior year party,” Dottie said in a dramatic tone. “You’re going too, right? Chrissy said she invited you and the guys.”

“She did, but I-” he scratched his neck. “I’m gonna be honest with you, darling, I don’t really like those parties very much. I go to them, I sell a few ounces, and then we go to Jeff’s for a movie night.”

“But Chrissy wants us there, she said that all seniors should go. Please, Ed?” she pleaded, eyes rounded with weaponized innocence. “I like hanging out with Nancy but I’d feel so much better about going if I knew you were gonna be there too.”

Eddie sighed. I am so whipped for her and she knows it, he thought before turning to their other friends who were refilling the snack bowls while the freshmen got more sodas.

“Gentlemen!” he called, making Gareth, Jeff, and Donny look at him. “Princess here has a request.”

“What’s up?” Donny asked, sliding into his seat next to hers.

“Nancy and I are going to Chrissy’s party tomorrow night. I want you guys to go with us too,” she said, and the boys instantly laughed.

“Dot, we can’t go to Jason Carver’s house,” Gareth said between chuckles. “He hates us.”

“And also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but no one invites the freaks to parties,” Jeff added.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. The party is at Carver’s house, yes, but-” Eddie put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a piece of scrap paper with girly writing on it. “-Chrissy Cunningham is planning it. We got an invite this time, fellow weirdos.”

“Chrissy invited you to her party?” Gareth asked in disbelief.

“I believe she invited us all.”

“She did,” Dottie said. “She told me she told Eddie to tell you we were all invited.”

“Those are too many uses of the verb to tell in one sentence,” Donny said, poking fun at her. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Okay, so, let me get this straight. Chrissy Cunningham, the Uncrowned Queen of Hawkins High, invited all of us to her party? And you’re actually going? With Nancy Wheeler of all people?” Gareth’s eyes were wide open.

“How much of a discount have you been giving her?” Jeff joked, implying something less illegal than simply selling her weed, but also dirtier was going on between them.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie threw a ball of paper at his head. “She’s a friend, and she invited Dottie too. In person, not through me.”

“Yeah, Nancy and I ran into her in the bathroom and she told us to come.”

“What is it with girls and bathrooms?” Gareth looked at Donny, the only other one at the table who had sisters. He shrugged in response.

“So? Are we all going? If it sucks we can leave, but I just thought it’d be fun to, y’know, do something different for once,” Dottie said with a hopeful smile.

“Okay, I’m in,” Donny announced.

“Dude!” Jeff and Gareth looked at him like he had betrayed them.

“Oh, come on! It’s now or never, we’re never gonna see these assholes again after graduation. And you know those rich kids always have so much beer at their parties. Are you really gonna say no to free booze?”

“Okay, when you put it like that…,” Gareth conceded. “I’ll go if we all go.”

“Ditto,” said Jeff.

“Guess we’re going to Jason Carver’s house tomorrow night, boys,” Eddie said, reluctantly.

“It’s gonna be awesome, you’ll see,” said Dottie, right as Dustin, Mike, and Erica rejoined the group and settled for the next part of the adventure.

“If everyone’s ready,” Dustin looked around the table at his friends after a lengthy discussion. “-we go to the clearing.”

“You come into the clearing right before midnight and you see everyone sitting on the grass, making a big circle around a huge oak tree. This is where Tharivol’s Circle prays to Silvanus, The Oak Father, the God of Wild Nature. You can feel energy underneath your feet, coming up your legs and into your chest as you approach everyone else. This place is sacred, and the people here are willing to help you rescue your innocent friend. Do not take their kindness for granted,” Eddie narrated, solemn voice ringing through the tension in the room. “Portia is standing next to the base of the tree in beautiful, shiny robes, her long silver hair blowing in the breeze. She beckons you to come closer.”

“We go to her,” Erica said, firmly.

“The old halfling lady instructs you to sit at her feet where the tree’s roots come out of the dirt. She looks at her Circle and begins her speech,” Eddie held his head high as he embodied Portia with a mystic drawl. “Children of Silvanus. We are gathered here tonight to help our very own Tharivol and his allies restore order and balance to where chaos and injustice has spread. Pray with us. Let Silvanus help them return a lost friend home,” in his normal voice, Eddie continued. “Portia turns around and with her staff, she draws a line into the earth where the portal will appear, if, and only if you succeed.”

“Hang on, Portia is opening a portal?” Jeff said, holding in a chuckle.

“Portia the Portal Lady,” Dustin muttered, and Mike next to him snorted loudly.

“You’re killing the fuckin’ mood,” Gareth complained, kicking Jeff who sat opposite him.

“Moving on, please,” Erica rolled her eyes and motioned at Eddie to continue. He bowed his head in acknowledgement and carried on with his narration.

“Portia starts praying loudly in a language you don’t quite understand. At first, you think she might be praying in Elven but you quickly realize she’s praying in Sylvan, the language of the fey,” Eddie said, tense silence falling over the room once again. “Tharivol,” he looked at Jeff. “You recognize a few words and it sounds like she’s requesting access to a kingdom, to a place called Shadowfell. She’s asking the Raven Queen for help in rectifying a wrong that has happened within her realm. I want you all to tell me what you do to help Portia during the ritual.”

“What’s everyone else doing?” asked Jeff.

“They are still sitting in a circle while they pray.”

“I’m gonna pray to Silvanus too then.”

“Go ahead. Let me hear what you say to him.”

“Oh, Silvanus, God of Wild Nature, Old Father Tree,” Jeff began, in character as Tharivol with his head bowed, eyes closed and hands clasped above the table. “Orfuel saved my life once. Let me return the favor. Let me repay the kindness he showed me by righting what is wrong in his name. Let him come home to us. Let him live long and prosper.”

“Damn,” said Gareth under his breath. It was showtime at the Hellfire Club, and everyone was taking it seriously.

“I’m gonna pray to Moradin for assistance,” Erica said as Boldhild. “I’m gonna invoke my Oath, and say: Fight the Greater Evil. No Mercy for the Wicked. By Any Means Necessary. Retribution. I honor these values today, and tomorrow. In your name, Moradin, the All-Father.”

“I’ll pray too,” Dottie joined them as Holly. “I’m going to lay down my quarterstaff, my symbol of Lathander touching the earth, and I’m gonna call out to him for help like they did.”

“You can do better than that, darling,” Eddie crossed his fingers and rested his chin on them. “Show me how you commune with your god.”

“O-okay,” she said, attributing her nerves to the expectation of performing an impromptu prayer in front of everyone and definitely not because of the sultry voice Eddie was talking to her with. She bowed her head and began praying. “Lathander, I come to you as a child of the light to ask you for aid in a time of need. My siblings in arms are asking Silvanus and Moradin to come together and help, but I fear their calls might go unanswered. Morninglord, I beg of you, take pity on us. Take pity on Orfuel, who has been banished to the plane of shadows. Take pity on those who cannot walk in your light like we do every new dawn, and please let us be joyous when the morning comes.”

There was the sense in the room that this wasn’t just a regular end of a campaign. They could feel it in the way Eddie had guided the session so far: minimal combat, heavy on the roleplay, distinctively interested in character growth. He was gearing up to something, and from the looks of it, it was going to be something big. With the understanding of a party that trusts their DM to bring a satisfying story to life, they gave themselves to him freely and wholeheartedly. This wasn’t just the end of an adventure. This was the end of Eddie’s reign as the leader of the Hellfire Club and he deserved a proper farewell.

“I-,” said Mike, gearing up to join his friends in the ritual as Mozikith. “I don’t think I can pray to Asmodeus for help, I mean… Doesn’t really feel right. So I’m gonna give Silvanus an offering instead.”

“What kind of offering do you wish to give him?” asked Eddie.

“Uh, a blood offering? My own blood.”

“No!” cried Jeff. “Offerings to Silvanus can’t be blood sacrifices. You have to destroy something made out of wood or wooden materials and bury it.”

“Okay, well, uh- Do I even own something made out of wood?” Mike wondered aloud as he looked down at his inventory notes.

“You have your staff,” Dustin suggested in a sheepish tone.

“Can… Can I break my staff and still keep my arcane stone?” he looked at his DM.

“I’ll allow it but you can’t cast spells simply holding the stone. You either get a new staff or do something with it, like put it inside a locket,” warned Eddie.

“It’s fine. I won’t need it anymore anyways,” Mike reasoned. “I’m gonna break my staff in two and bury it under where the portal is supposed to be created.”

“Me too,” said Gareth, making Despair join the sacrifice. “I’m gonna add my javelins to his pile.”

“How many?”

“All four of them.”

“Very well,” Eddie smiled. “Anyone else has something they’d like to add?”

“I want to offer something to the Raven Queen in exchange for her to let us through,” said Dustin as Seebo.

“Oh?”

“She collects trinkets, right?”

“That she does, Seebo. What do you have to offer to her?” Eddie leaned forward. “It has to be something interesting, remember, she doesn’t exactly care too much about cheap junk.”

“I want to offer her my father’s ring.”

A few sharp gasps could be heard as Dustin held Eddie’s eyes as if he was challenging him to say no. Everyone at the table knew what that ring meant to Dustin’s character. The heavy brass ring was all he had to remember his parents by after a war had left him and his ten younger siblings as orphans, begging on the streets for a small mercy until Orfuel taught him to run petty scams and pickpocket. At first he’d been reluctant but he had ten mouths to feed and couldn’t afford to pity those who had so much more than he did. Dustin placed a tacky ring he’d gotten at a yard sale in the middle of the table. Trust him to always keep props on his body for D&D related purposes.

“Okay, I’ll take it. Let’s see if she does too,” Eddie accepted his token.

“I’ll offer her a memory,” added Donny as Odorr. “I know she collects those too.”

“Which memory are you offering to the Raven Queen, dearest Odorr?”

“I want to give to her the night I burned down my village. That’s why I was a hermit until Orfuel found me,” he turned to the table to explain. “I was exiled as a kid because I couldn’t control my Wild Magic and set a barn on fire. It spread to the rest of the village so they said I was a danger and casted me out.”

“Shit,” Erica said, impressed that he’d kept his origin secret for so long. “Did you kill someone or what?”

“No, but I hurt a lot of people. It’s in the past now.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” Dottie told him sincerely. Odorr had been her first friend on the campaign, and she cared for him like he was a real person. Donny squeezed her hand as a thank you.

“Okay, are we ready to proceed? Good. Since everyone has played their part in the ritual, I’ll explain how this is going to work,” Eddie brought them back to the game. “I’m gonna ask Tharivol to make an Arcana check, with advantage. To that you’re gonna add 1d6 of Inspiration for each member of your party, so that’s 6d6.”

“Can I roll Religion instead of Arcana? Since I’m praying to Silvanus,” Jeff bargained.

“Sure. Roll in front of everyone.”

Jeff grabbed 2d20 and breathed deeply, calming his nerves. He shook the dice in his hands, letting them fall to the tabletop, the two green and gold flecked pieces of plastic glinting in the moody lighting Eddie had set for the evening.

“18 and 19,” he announced.

“I’m guessing we’re starting with 19. Mozikith, if you will,” Eddie prompted Mike to start the inspiration dice rolls.

“Wait!” Dottie interrupted. “I want to cast Guidance on Tharivol.”

“Remind me again what that does, princess?”

“You touch one willing creature. Once before the spell ends, the target can roll a d4 and add the number rolled to one ability check of its choice. It can roll the die before or after making the ability check. The spell then ends,” she read with a smile. “You told me the other day that I always use the same two cantrips so I’m using a new one today.”

“I need to stop teaching you things if you’re gonna use them against me,” Eddie grumbled, but deep down was proud that she listened to his advice so intently. “Fine, Tharivol, add a d4.”

“Thank you,” Jeff said to Dottie and rolled. “2.”

“We’re at 21. Mozikith, please.”

“Shit,” Mike said. “That’s a 2.”

“We’re at 23. Seebo, your turn.”

“Fuck. Sorry guys, that’s gonna be a one,” Dustin mumbled angrily.

“Tough start. We’re at 24. Boldhild?”

“Four!” Erica cheered.

“We go up to 28! Despair, you go.”

“Please, please, please,” Gareth whispered. “SIX!”

“34! Odorr’s turn now.”

“Fuck yeah! That’s a six!” Donny punched the air excitedly. Everyone started becoming antsy but hopeful.

“We’re at 38. Holly, please.”

“Four?” Dottie said, timidly.

“That brings us to 42. Everyone in the clearing starts humming as Portia continues praying. Seebo, the ring in your hand begins burning until you can’t stand the heat anymore and drop it. It sinks into the earth beneath you as a gash appears where the line in the dirt was drawn,” Eddie began describing, his players waiting with bated breaths for confirmation of their success. “Tharivol, you feel a surge of magic from deep inside you, like a gentle warmth crawling up from your feet all the way up and into your chest. You see the oak tree begins glowing in the moonlight.”

“Holy shit,” Jeff said.

“The ground beneath you begins to shake and suddenly, Odorr, you feel a piercing pain in your head, like a needle pushing right in the middle of your forehead between your tiny horns. You fall to your knees in agony and see that the gash begins opening more, revealing fog on the other side.

“It’s working!” Dustin cried, and Mike shushed him immediately.

“Holly, you see your Lathander holy symbols begin to shine. First, it’s the one attached to your staff. Then, your armlet. It feels warm, like sunshine seeping into your skin on a cool day. The gash keeps opening and opening until it becomes a shadowy circle right in front of you. The pain in Odorr’s head stops,” Eddie said theatrically, making a pause for dramatic effect. “The DC you had to beat… was 40.”

“WE DID IT!” Erica screeched, and everyone began yelling at the same time.

“You almost gave me a heart attack, you piece of shit!” Donny yelled.

“Fuck, that was close,” moaned Dustin, bracing himself against the table, tension finally leaving his body.

“Congratulations, adventurers. You’ve just opened a portal to Shadowfell,” Eddie laughed, throwing his head back.

“Do we go in now? How does this work?” Dottie asked, wanting to continue the story.

“You have to speak the name of a creature and they’ll be sucked in through the portal towards your plane.”

“What was Orfuel’s last name?” Gareth looked at Jeff.

“Evensorrow,” said Mike.

“We call for Orfuel Evensorrow to come back to the material plane,” Jeff said, back in action.

“You see a shadow moving behind the fog, it seems like it’s fighting back the tendrils. Call out to him again, all of you,” Eddie instructed.

“Orfuel! Orfuel!” everyone began chanting. “Orfuel, it’s us! Stop fighting back!”

“The creature becomes prone when it hears your voices and lets itself be dragged into the material plane. A dirty human man lays at your feet, gasping for air after the shadowy vines retreat. Portia loses strength and the portal closes itself, severing the connection to Shadowfell.”

“I catch her before she falls,” Mike said quickly.

“Thank you, dearie,” Eddie said in a pitiful voice that belonged to an old frail lady. He continued in his normal voice. “Portia is okay, she just needs to rest.”

“We go to help Orfuel then,” Gareth looked at his friends, who nodded in agreement.

“Orfuel is a shell of the man you all used to know. His hair is long and matted, his beard is graying at the edges. He has dark circles under his eyes and looks like he hasn’t had a drink of water in days. He tries to speak, but his voice doesn’t come out.”

“I give him my water bottle,” Erica said.

“He drinks half of your waterskin in a rush and now that he feels better he looks at everyone surrounding him with fearful eyes,” Eddie began trembling, like it took a toll on his body to even utter a single syllable. “He’s coming. We have to- we have to hide. He’s coming.”

“Mask’s coming?” Donny asked.

“Mask’s just a pawn,” Eddie scoffed. “Orcus is coming.”

“Who’s Orcus?” Dottie looked around the table.

“The Lord of the Undead,” Dustin said, wary. “He’s the master of the undead that live in The Abyss. He wants to exterminate all life on every plane of existence until only his undead soldiers remain.”

“Wait, what do you mean Orcus is coming?” Erica asked Eddie, but really, it was Boldhild asking Orfuel.

“Mask knows Orcus hates the Raven Queen, so they made a deal. Mask kills the Raven Queen, and he becomes the keeper of Shadowfell for Orcus. Dedlock gave me up as a sacrifice to grow Mask’s power.”

“Shit. What do we do now?” Donny asked everyone else in the room.

“We fight back,” Dustin said, like it was obvious. “First we go for Dedlock and the Circle of the Gray Ribbon. Then we go for Mask.”

“And then…,” Mike mused. “We go into The Abyss.”

“And that’s where we’ll end our session,” Eddie said, and everyone groaned in protest.

“What the fuck, man?!”

“You said this session was the last one!”

“That’s such a non-ending, what is wrong with you?”

Eddie laughed and looked at his friends who kept begging him for more. More stories, more adventures, more guidance. They weren’t asking for entertainment. They were looking for more friendship. He moved to lower down his DM screen and hauled his prop box onto the table. Everyone stared at him curiously, wondering what trick he was gonna pull out of his metaphorical hat next. He simply reached in and grabbed two pins, putting them on the table: one said Chapter Leader, and the other said Dungeon Master. He’d had the first one for three years, and the second one for longer. He looked up at his club members with shiny eyes, and Dottie thought he’d never looked more at peace than in that moment.

“As you all know, my beloved sheep, I’m hoping I finally get to graduate this year. I don’t know if I am just yet, but in any case, this is my last session as Hellfire’s very own DM and leader. There’s more story to tell in this campaign, but I won’t be doing it here, on this throne, in this props room that always smells a little bit like glue,” he smiled when everyone huffed in agreement. “We’re going to take a break from this adventure until Dustin comes back from his nerd camp for geniuses-”

“Hey!” Dustin protested, but he looked proudly at Eddie while he did it.

“If you still want to find out what happens next after all that, I’ll be more than pleased to keep the action going outside of school grounds. But! A king shouldn’t rule over their kingdom forever, and it’s time for me to pass the crown onto the next generation. Wheeler, Henderson, please,” he motioned to the side. The freshmen followed him a few steps away from the table where Eddie dropped to one knee and bowed regally. “Michael Wheeler, you are Hellfire’s new Dungeon Master. I trust that the tales you tell will always be as grand as Mike the Magnificent was under my reign.”

“Woah,” Mike said when Eddie presented the Dungeon Master pin to him. “Eddie, this is- thanks, man.”

“Dustin Henderson,” Eddie continued, looking into the hopeful eyes of the kid he so very much admired. “The crown is too heavy for one man to wear alone, so I am choosing you to be the next Chapter Leader of the Hellfire Club. May you be as brave as Dustin the Daring was when he was under my wing.”

“I-” Dustin managed to get out before he launched himself across the floor and tackled Eddie into a tight hug.

“I won’t disappoint you, Eddie, I swear to god-”

But there was no need for him to promise anything, because Eddie knew that Hellfire was in safe hands with the two boys that had gone from looking at him like he was their Lord and Savior to simply calling him a friend. And as Eddie said goodbye to his time in high school, he was so grateful that even if he hadn’t learned a single thing valuable within those walls, he had come out of it with a group of people that he could always count on when life got too rough to handle on his own.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

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projectbluearcadia · 6 days

Text

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue, And Cacti Are Prickly.

[ Trigger Warning: Sexual Harassment via comments and gestures. Reader Discretion Advised ]

Annelie walks into her first class at RAD, and she watches as pair after pair of eyes settle to look back at her. She stops in place, moderately confused.

Annelie: What? I know I'm not late to an in-class exam because we just had one that I had to make up. Unfortunately.

Annelie catches Lizzy's gaze, and the latter points to her eyes, mouthing the word "This."

Seriously? Like they don't have weird eyes all over? For Dia's sake, it's just my eyes. It's not like I turned into some kind of slime monster.

Annelie: Nevermind. I don't care.

Annelie sits at her desk.

Stupid Demon: Who are you supposed to be? Some kind of knockoff K**eki K*n?

Why do you even know that reference?

Annelie: ...

Stupid Demon: Y'know, I've never liked you. First you schmooze up to Lord Lucifer, and then you start trying to act like you're some kind of bigshot with that HDRA bullshit.

What in the fuck are you talking about? I haven't even done anything with that position yet except post some bare-minimum rules in the hallways.

The demon approaches Annelie's desk and sits on top of it, spreading their legs on either side of her. They smirk.

Demon with a Deathwish: In the end, you're just a sex-driven low-life that slept your way to Lord Lucifer's side. But, well... if you're really that good at pleasuring him, then maybe I should try and get a taste of the toy he uses. Haha. Since it's all the same to you, I'm pretty fond of oral.

Murmuring covers the classroom as Annelie looks up at the demon with an unreadable expression on her face. Moments later, the demon is writhing on the ground in agony, horrendously screaming without her having moved. Blood drips through the crotch of their trousers.

Demon with a Deathwish: MAKE IT STOP! MY SKIN IS BURNING! I CAN'T...! BREa...the...! he...lp... me... pl...

Annelie: If you stopped writhing around like a disgusting piece of shit, you'd be able to breathe.

Corpse: ....

...? Are they dead? Did I just kill them?

Corpse: [No response; it's just a corpse.]

Annelie: ;;;;

Fuck. That demon was an asshole, but fuck.

Annelie: ...I'm just going to take them to the nurse's office. Uh... Lizzy?

Lizzy turns to look at her, terrified out of her wits.

Annelie: Can you, uh... take notes for me for this class?

Lizzy: O-O-Of course... Y-Yeah.

Annelie: Thanks... I'll buy you macarons from Madame Scream's.

Annelie makes her way out of the classroom again, hauling the body over her back while the other students stare at her in shock. Once out of earshot, she calls Lucifer.

Lucifer: What did you do?

Annelie: I-I haven't even said anything yet!

Lucifer: I could feel the waves of your magic from Diavolo's office. I'm not stupid enough to think you were lighting a candle.

Annelie: I, uh... I may or may not have just accidentally killed someone for harassing me.

Lucifer sighs through the D.D.D..

Lucifer: Well, I can't exactly lecture you since I probably would have killed them myself... Still, you're supposed to be the cooler-headed one in this relationship.

Annelie: ...sorry.

Lucifer: What's done is done. I'll help you take care of the body, and then I'll talk to Diavolo. Honestly, I'm sure the most you'll get is a slap on the wrist, given the fact that Diavolo has a zero-tolerance policy for harassment towards marginalized groups like succubi, but there's no harm in making sure.

Annelie: My dad always told me to find a guy who would help me bury a body.

Lucifer: (Quietly) Our.

Annelie: What?

Lucifer: Nothing. I assume you're carrying the corpse.

Annelie: Yeah; their crotch is bleeding all over.

Lucifer: Their what?

Annelie: Uh... tell you later. For now, just meet me in the nurse's office.

Lucifer: You're such a handful sometimes.

Lucifer chuckles to himself.

Lucifer: But good job nevertheless. I love you.

Annelie: Love you too. Bye-bye.

Lucifer: You're cute.

Annelie: Lucifer, I just killed a man. Well, something.

Annelie pauses, then looks at her D.D.D.

That little shit always get the last word in.

#the sweetheart and the borderline psychopath #get you a man that does both #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #fanfiction #obey me!#shameless self indulgence #obey me angst #LuciAnne

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birth-stories · 2 years

Text

Idea that I decided to write up, no fandoms or canon characters in this one

Word count: 900

Requests and comissions open

DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT ASKING ME

Holly knew the risks of such a late in life pregnancy, hitting the age of 40 she had succeeded in becoming pregnant.

The pregnancy in itself came with various challenges, but she managed to face them head on. Up until now anyway.

Being a college professor meant long days full of tests, lectures, grading papers. It seemed to drag on even more now that she was so heavily pregnant.

She had been holding off on her leave until the last possible minute, she wanted to at least finish off this semester.

Today was finals day for the students, so it should've been fairly easy- but it wasn't her luck. She had awoken to mild cramping that seemed to get worse as she entered the classroom.

The exam would take 2 hours, but she always reminded the students they could take as long as they needed on this exam, but now she was regretting those words.

Awkwardly sitting back in her seat, it had creaked from her weight. Running a hand over her tight stomach, she let out a shaky sigh.

Glancing around the room, she noticed there were only a handful of students left. She was hoping they'd finish up soon, the contractions were getting stronger and more frequent.

"Miss Connors, are you okay?" One of the students asked as they approached the desk to hand in their finals.

Holly had been trying to grade some finals, but the tightness in her stomach was distracting.

Blinking a few times, she looked up and nodded with a forced smile. "I'm alright, enjoy your break!" She responded, taking the paper and sitting it with the other upgraded papers that were quickly mounting on the desk.

Biting on her inner cheek, she went back to grading papers. That is until the last student approached her desk with their final, as water suddenly trickled down her leg.

Biting back a yelp of surprise, she allowed the last student to leave as she leaned back. The baby seemed to move down quickly into her aching birth canal.

She had worn a loose winter dress, with black leggings that were feeling unusually tight. She could feel the baby's head force her vagina to bulge out a bit.

"N-no.." she whispered, knowing she probably didn't have time to even get back to the hospital or even her apartment.

Pulling in a sharp breath and waiting for the contraction to end, she went back to grading papers.

She knew she should've left, but considering this was her first baby- she thought she had time. She had heard many times that labor took up to 12 or more hours for first time mothers.

By the last exam she was grading, her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the pen. Tears and sweat stinging her eyes, biting down on her lower lip so hard it drew blood.

"Please hold on baby-" she whispered, cradling the bottom of her belly. The head was still causing her to bulge painfully against her tight pants that were now soaked with fluids.

As she finished the last paper, she quickly stood and began gathering up her things. As she stood, she quickly covered her mouth to stifle a moan.

Her body felt so heavy, the baby's head still nestled between her legs which were spread slightly to try to accommodate it.

The baby was on the heavier side, weighing in at 12lbs, but that didn't stop her from wanting an all natural birth.

Though she was regretting that decision now, realizing just how large the baby was against her tight lips.

Shuffling down the hallway, she cringed as she heard a co-worker begin to call for her down the hallway.

Forcing herself to turn around, she gave a brief smile to the co-worker and began talking to her. Even though she desperately wanted to go to the bathroom, the baby's head was in a full crown now. She could barely hold herself up, pressing her sweaty back against the wall.

Finally the co worker left and she quickly (or at least tried to) made her way to the single stall bathroom just for staff.

Thankful there was nobody in there, she opened the door and quickly shut it. Locking the door as her hands shook. Dropping her bag onto the floor, she barely made it to the toilet.

She didn't even sit down, her hands tugging off the soaked leggings, then her underwear. Lifting up her dress in the front exposing her gravid stomach, a hand reached down down cradle the head.

"Oooh.." she moaned out weakly, legs shaking- ready to buckle at any moment.

She could feel the fleshy head push against her fingers with each contraction, which felt as though they were on top of each other now.

Holding onto the handicap bar and bending her legs, she gave a big push- finally caving to her instincts to deliver the baby.

Grunting, she felt the head suddenly pop out with a gush of fluids.

"Ooh-" she whimpered softly under her breath, moving her hand from the railing to the massive head. It barely fit into her small hands which were shaking.

As she tried to catch her breath, she felt the baby begin to turn painfully, with small pushes the shoulders had popped free.

With one final push, the baby fell into her arms with a loud wail as she sat back on the toilet seat and held the squalling newborn against her leaking chest.

#birth #birth kink #birthing blog #fem birth #fem pregnancy #fic #writing

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cheeriecherrymain · 1 year

Text

Incorrigible Flirts And Besweatered Men [Chapter 5]

Pairing: TA!Viktor x fem!Reader Rating: T Warnings: Descriptions of anxiety and stress, i wrote this without my adhd meds so, good luck you lot :S Proofread: no beta we die like men Chapter Summary: You officially start your career as a musician, and it’s nothing like you thought it would be; thankfully Viktor is kind, and does what he can to care for you, even though you feel like you don’t really deserve it.

On Monday, you finally find the energy to send an email back to the studio; apologizing for the delay and explaining that you’re a full time student. You thank them for the opportunity, and agree to set up a time to meet - whenever they’re available, of course, and you’ll do your best to work your schedule around it.

The professionalism and anxiety pretty much destroys your mood afterwards. You’re barely able to pay attention in class that day, too full of nervous energy to absorb the lecture.

Thankfully, Viktor texts you later and offers to send you a recording of the lesson.

—

On Tuesday, you’re able to recover a little bit. The only class you have that day is in the afternoon, and you’re thrilled to be able to sleep in for once; not as late as you’d like to, but waking at ten was still better than waking at seven.

You run into Viktor after your class, and the two of you end up grabbing coffee while he’s on his break. You talk for a little while, telling him about the meeting you had coming up on thursday and expressing your worries about everything.

He, as usual, encourages your skill and capability.

But the mood shifts when a couple of your classmates walk into the small cafe, and find seats not far from you. Viktor doesn’t seem to notice them - or if he does, he pays them no mind - and continues telling you about one of the most recent papers he’s read.

You, however, are unable to ignore the dirty looks being shot your way.

—

On Wednesday, you take the first test of the semester. There are seven of them in total - according to the syllabus you’d been given at the start of the course - worth twenty percent of your grade, and not including your final exam.

Part of you is grateful that most of your grade relies on your ability to absorb information; as opposed to having to write, source, and properly format a multitude of academic papers. Sitting for hours while scouring through books and internet pages wasn’t your favourite way of learning, and more often than not it had you getting sucked down wikipedia rabbit holes that had nothing to do with the subject you were supposed to be researching.

Though you also kind of miss being able to add things to your bank of useless knowledge.

In any case, the test goes well, and you’re pleased with your performance. It had been challenging enough that you really had to think and apply what you’d learned in class, but still straightforward in its wording, and not purposefully convoluted as a means of confusing you.

—

On Thursday, you have your meeting at the studio.

You get lunch with Viktor beforehand, going over the prior days’ test and talking about which concepts you fully understood, and which ones you maybe had a little more difficulty with. He seemed to be fairly confident in your grasp of the course so far, going as far as revealing that you were among the top three students in the class.

“I would not be surprised if you get an invite to one of the winter galas,” Viktor had admitted, much to your surprise.

“I thought those were only for the faculty and university sponsors?”

“Typically, they are,” he’d explained, going on to tell you about the singular event at the end of the year where certain students could be invited to attend and talk about their experiences with the school.

“So it’s basically to get more funding?” you’d asked, and Viktor had nodded with a smile.

You were thankful that he’d been able to take the time to sit with you for a little while before your meeting, his presence temporarily mitigating your ever-present anxiety. You didn’t tell him that, but you weren’t sure you needed to; his hand on your shoulder and a gentle encouragement as you departed suggested he already knew how stressed you were.

Now, you’re waiting in a small lobby. Waiting to be called back into an office to discuss the next five years of your life. You poke idly at your phone, playing some silly, repetitive game that didn’t require any skill or thought, but it had cute cartoon cats in it, so it automatically held your interest.

Kind of.

It keeps you entertained for all of thirty seconds, before your thoughts start wandering. What would it be like to work with an actual studio? Would you have to write your own music, or would you have help? Thus far in your life, you’d gotten on by mostly playing covers - some with lyrics, some not; you’d only ever written a couple pieces, and none of them had words. God, how were you going to do this? You didn’t know how to write! You were a physicist in training, not a songwriter-

You ball your hands into fists, so tightly that your knuckles turn white and your nails bite into your palms, and you force yourself to take a deep breath. Wait a couple seconds, breathe out, says Viktor’s voice, in your mind. Again. That’s it, good girl.

You try not to think about how much the sound of his voice flusters you, instead focusing on the little encouragements and praises he’d give you: kind words, a pat on the shoulder. Maybe even his hand wrapped around yours, thumb smoothing over your skin, like he had done the weekend prior.

Your anxiety eventually recedes, though the fluttering in your chest remains. At least the palpitations aren’t from fear, you think, and slouch back in your chair.

—

Four hours later, you meander through the doorway of your home, dragging your feet and overwhelmed with exhaustion. The toe of your boot catches on the lip of the entrance, causing you to topple forwards. You barely manage to catch yourself on the way down, twisting so most of your weight lands on your knee instead of your face; and you still end up sprawled out on the floor surrounded by loose books, but at least you don’t have a broken nose.

You lay there in the front hallway for a few minutes, unmoving and unmotivated to get up. Even when the cold air starts coming in through the screen door, you remain frozen.

Disappearing into the woods sounded like a really good option.

You know that you’re just being dramatic, and that nothing particularly terrible had happened, but that’s not really the point. The point is that you know you’re going to be stressed in the coming weeks, and you’re not looking forward to it.

You’d gotten through your appointment without much issue - you’d talked through the contract with your new boss, and been honest with him about the fact that you were a full time student. You’d met your mentor, a couple of other people you’d be working with at some point, and gone over what would be expected of you should you sign with the studio.

Everything had been thorough and friendly, and it had been written into your terms that your schedule would be modified to fit your student lifestyle.

In theory, there was no reason to be anxious.

Yet here you were.

On the floor.

Seriously considering running into the woods to become a mushroom.

It would be easier than writing an entire album in six months, you think, finally gaining the willpower to push yourself up into a sitting position. You gather up the books strewn around you, carefully sorting them into little piles before sliding them back into the bags you’d carried them in.

While the meeting had gone well, and everyone you’d been introduced to had been kind and understanding, you’d still been…criticized, to some extent. Or rather, you’d been told that at least two thirds of your first album needed pieces with lyrics.

“Your instrumentals are fantastic,” your new boss had said, pairing a couple more praises as you went through the CD you’d sent in weeks ago. Then, he skips ahead to one of your more impressive covers. “Your voice, though? That’s a gift not many people have.”

He’d been somewhat disappointed when you’d admitted that you’d never actually written lyrics before, and even moreso when you and your mentor had tried to come up with something on the spot.

It was obvious that they were looking for well-rounded musicians - not necessarily traditionally educated, but with at least some kind of natural talent that could be built upon. And you were certainly what they were looking for in most areas: you just…didn’t have a way with words. You couldn’t take your feelings and turn them into sung poetry.

Which was apparently a detriment only to you.

You’d left the studio with a modified contract - instead of five years, you were cut down to six months. If you could produce a worthwhile album in that amount of time, then the longer deal would be reextended and you’d officially become one of their artists.

And if not?

You didn’t want to think about that.

Your mentor had been kind enough to catch you on the way out of the studio, offering you a list of resources that you could look into to start learning how to write lyrics, as well as a few words of encouragement. You had thanked him, and exchanged numbers in case you had any questions, and he’d disappeared back into the building.

You’d stopped at a couple of bookstores on the way home, picking up as many of the recommended books as you could afford, and…well, now you were on the floor in your front hallway.

One of your cats chirps at your side, pressing up against you and knocking her head on your arm.

“You have no idea what kind of nonsense the world is,” you tell her, trailing your hand over her fur. She - as expected - says nothing, and begins to purr.

—

Your life gets a hell of a lot more hectic after that.

Every moment you’re not studying for class, you’re studying what it takes to write a decent song. Beats and syllables, word shapes and styles that are pleasing to the ear, how to breathe properly, what to avoid; it’s maddening, and not in a good way.

You knew that it would take longer than a week to grasp concepts that were entirely new to you - it had been years since you’d studied a subject that you didn’t already have some base knowledge of - but that didn’t do much to lessen the frustration you feel each time you try to write something, only to scribble it out minutes later because it sounded wrong.

You’d hardly had enough time to keep up with your classes before, but now?

Now you can hardly pay attention.

You’re tired, your sleep schedule is a mess, you’re stressed. Each time you walk into the lecture hall, you feel like the entire room is staring at you with malice, and yet you can’t find the ability to care, because all of your energy is being put towards spongeing up information.

You feel like you’re learning so little about music, that you even start bringing your books to class: you figure you know enough about physics to get by for a couple of days, a fact which proves true when you’re called upon to participate in some discussion taking place around you.

You can tell that Heimerdinger doesn’t quite believe you when you say that you’re ‘just distracted by writing everything down’, but he doesn’t press you on the matter, which you’re grateful for.

Viktor, on the other hand, is less gracious.

He wanders up to your seat once the lecture is finished, and finds a spot beside you. He doesn’t say anything while you pack up your things, but you can feel his gaze boring into you - you worry you’ll find disappointment if you look at him.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask, keeping your tone lighthearted. Viktor sighs.

“Are you alright?” he wonders quietly, making guilt well up in your stomach.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you reply, but you know your resolve is slipping: and Viktor’s hand on your shoulder is the last straw.

“You’ve just started a very demanding job, and you’re still in class full-time,” he says, and then taps a finger against the cover of the book you’d been reading out of. “That, and I don’t think poetry is part of the curriculum.”

You cease gathering your things up, and slouch back in defeat. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” you mumble, “I’m in way over my head. I thought I knew so much about music, but now I- I’m learning entirely new concepts, and I have no idea how to apply them!”

Viktor quietly slides the thin textbook towards himself, glancing over the cover and opening it to take a look at the table of contents.

“I’m sure you didn’t always understand physics, either. Learning takes time, Y/N.”

“I know that,” you cry, “but I don’t have time! I have to make an entire album in six months! Less than that, really, because I’m spending so much time studying and not enough time actually writing, and a good chunk of the time I have is going to be spent recording so the writing needs to be done by then, and-”

A pair of warm hands cupping your jaw draws you out of your anxiety spiral.

“Darling, breathe.”

His thumbs stroke over your cheeks, giving you something to focus on while he helps you monitor your air intake: you’re amazed you don’t start crying, with how tenderly he cares for you.

It takes a couple of minutes, but finally, you sigh.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Viktor’s hands drop from your face, to your shoulders.

“We are going to head to the library, to go over what you missed in class today.”

“But-”

“No buts. We’re going to go over the entire curriculum, and we’re going to see which parts you need to study, and which parts you already understand. Then, we’re going to make a schedule around that.”

You cast your gaze away from him, anxiety beginning to claw its way back into your thoughts. “I’m not going to be able to change your mind, am I?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“No,” he says, with every ounce of warmth and kindness he possesses. “But I could perhaps be convinced to stop for a snack on the way there, should you desire one.”

You perk up slightly. “But the library doesn’t allow food.”

Viktor smiles then, giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “We can sit elsewhere while we eat,” he promises. “And maybe you can tell me more about ah…poetry and songwriting, is it? We could work it into your study schedule.”

#Incorrigible Flirts And Besweatered Men #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #TA!Viktor #fem!Reader #viktor x you #arcane x you #im real sorry guys #i ran out of my meds #and im barely able to form coherent thoughts #but i wanted to write #so #behold my pile of Nonsense

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springdandelixn · 2 years

Text

The Shade of Darkness - Part I

Summary: Life in university is what you expected it to be until one night, you receive a visit from someone unexpected.

Warnings: The story contains rape/noncon elements, somnophilia undertones, power imbalance. Proceed with caution if that is not your cup of tea. Age gap. A little fluff, I think lmao

Characters: Dark!Librarian!Vision x F!Student!Reader

Your feedback and likes are highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing! I hope you enjoy this ride with our favorite synthezoid boii 💛

The university library is swimming with students when you walk through the revolving doors. Your backpack hanging from your shoulders and your laptop tucked protectively in your arms.

You knew that the library would be packed at this time with almost all the students cramming for their finals before leaving for the holidays. But the noise coming from the room next to yours was too much to bear. You don’t even know why they were playing such loud music in the middle of the day.

You look around and decide to head to the 7th floor, the one you know where the study rooms are and tables with dividers made for people like you. People who enjoy their own company. People who want to be left alone.

But just like the lower floors, the place is packed though thankfully enough, quiet. Students with their noses buried deep into their notebooks with only the sounds of their pen tapping and the clicking of their keyboards filling the space.

You find a spot and to your delight, it was one that had an electrical outlet to it too, saving you the embarrassment of having to crawl underneath the tables just to plug in your laptop.

Once settled, you open up your laptop and grab your notebook from your bag before opening it, plugging in your headset to the auxiliary port of your computer and playing the recorded lecture of your history professor, and begin writing the important notes you feel would appear on the exam.

After condensing three subjects into bullet points and footnotes, you lean back on your seat and stretch your arms above your head, hearing your back pop from the stiffness from sitting too long.

It’s probably the longest you had to sit still while studying, although looking down at your notes, you can’t help but think that it’s all worth it for you feel confident, excited even, that you would skate through the exams without a hitch.

It’s what your parents are proud of you for. That you have the will and patience to study. And frankly, you like studying. The adrenaline that rushes through your veins when the cramming period starts and the satisfaction of seeing the marks on your paper, knowing that your hard work has truly paid off.

And besides, you’ve been doing this for two years now, going three. And by now, it’s all just routinary for you. Nothing new yet each time special.

You decide to reward yourself with a cup of coffee from the cafe on the 2nd floor. Even thinking of getting one of their delicious chocolate croissants to give you more energy to finish studying before the day ends.

Taking your wallet from your bag, you tap the shoulder of the girl next to you and ask her to look after your things, to which she nods in agreement while turning the page of the book she’s busying herself with.

You make it to the cafe and to your dismay, there’s a line. Not as long as you’re expecting but long enough to keep you waiting for 5 minutes. You pop your earbuds in, The Weeknd keeping you company while waiting in line to order.

You eventually make it to the front, reciting your order to the employee and tapping your card on the machine to pay. And just as quick, your drink and your pastry are in your hands and you make your way back to your table, except you don’t see it vacant any longer, a boy wearing a black leather jacket now sitting in your seat, your bag dropped on the floor along with your laptop and notebook while the girl you asked to look after your things giggles at whatever he’s whispering in her ear.

Pulling out your earbuds and tucking them in your pocket, you frown as you approach them, looking down at your discarded things.

“Excuse me,” You whisper, not wanting to cause a disturbance to the other students. “But that’s my seat.”

“Sorry.” The boy simply says, not even looking up at you, and continues on with his business, leaning closer to the girl as she shows him something on her phone.

You look down at the girl and groan inwardly, patting the guy once again to which this time, he faces you with a scowl. “I’d like to take my seat back, please.”

“Can’t you see we’re busy?” The boy sneers and turns his attention back to the girl. “Go find somewhere else to sit.”

“I believe she was there first.” A voice suddenly appears from behind you, a voice you recognize, and you turn around to see Victor looking down at the boy, anger evident on his face. “And it’s first come first serve in this library.” He says with annoyance.

“Look, she was gone and the seat was vacant. No one even told me it was taken.” The boy explains.

“I asked her to look after my things.” You reason, frowning as you face the girl who refuses to look at you and bend down to grab your laptop from the floor, only to be stopped by a hand on your shoulder.

“If you cannot follow the rules of this establishment then I suggest you leave or I will have to call security,” Victor says, his eyes narrowed as he eyes the boy.

“What gives you the right to tell me what to do, old man?” The boy stands abruptly making the chair topple over with a loud thud, causing several heads to turn in their direction.

“I am the Library Manager here, punk, and I make the rules.” Victor takes a step towards the boy, making you grab his elbow to stop him from getting closer.

“Victor, it’s okay.” You say in a calm voice but the look he gives you makes you release him and step back in embarrassment.

“It is not okay.” He snaps and faces the boy once more. “So again, if you cannot follow the rules of this establishment, I suggest you fuck off. Both of you.” His eyes then trail towards the girl who immediately packs her things in her bag.

“C’mon, Darren.” The girl says as she slings her bag on her shoulder and takes hold of his hand. “Let’s just go.” There’s a hint of fear evident on her face. “We’re sorry. Please. We’ll just go.”

The boy, Darren, eventually concedes and grabs his bag, pulling away from the girl and storming out of the study hall while mumbling the word “nerds”, the girl looking dumbstruck at the boy and then at both you and Victor before scurrying away soon after.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say as you place your food and drink on the table and bend down to take your laptop and check it for any damage. “I could have just found another table.”

“With a crowd like this, we both know you won’t,” Victor says as he picks up your bag from the ground and places it on the chair the girl vacated. “Everything is there?” He asks, and you rummage through your bag to make sure everything is in place.

You nod.

“I was almost done anyway,” You say while tucking your laptop back in its sleeve, wounding up your charger and stuffing it into the front pocket of your bag. “I was just getting something to eat.”

“Well, would you want to join me then? I’m on my break right now.” He says, already taking your backpack and zipping it close. “I saw you at the cafe and tried calling you but you seem to not have heard me.” His mouth slants as he looks down at you.

You met Victor during your second year at university. Similar to the present, you were procrastinating for your finals for your Medieval and Early Modern Europe class, walking the aisles countless times and going back to the help desk, where he was stationed at that time for being a new employee, and asking him once in a while if the book you were looking for was available to borrow and him responding the same thing each time you ask. “No one has returned it yet.” Leaving you hopeless and worried that you would fail your final.

But to your surprise, he appears at the side of your desk and places a tablet beside your laptop, the title of the book you were looking for staring at you in bold, red letters.

“You can take this with you and return it when you’re done.” He tells you with a smile, his finger tapping on his name tag, reading the words Victor Shade pinned on his right chest before leaving you to your notes.

And since then, you have both become friends. Victor always lending a hand with any resource materials you need for your classes and at times keeping you company when you stay in the library til close to review.

But as much as you like Victor, he can get a bit aggressive, especially when things don’t go his way. Seeing his temper once in a while when you reject his invitations to go out for a drink or when dealing with students that, to put in his words, “disgrace the sanctity of the library.”

You know he only means well and that his irritation towards your continuous refusal only lasts a short amount of time, telling you that he understands your desire to put your studies first and recreation after.

“I’m sorry.” You say as you tuck your laptop sleeve between your chest and your arm again, taking your drink and pastry in the other hand. “I had my earbuds on. And sure—any place you want to chill for your break?”

“Well, since every student is either in here or in their dorms, why don’t we venture off to the science building? They have that covered garden right?” He suggests as he slings your bag on his shoulder. “It’ll be more peaceful there than breathing in the tense atmosphere here.” You nod in response and walk beside him, leaving the study hall and towards the elevators.

The Garden of Eden that can be found in the life and sciences building is one that you consider a hidden gem in the university. Not only was it not frequented by students and staff alike, but the flowers that grow from within the dome bloomed in diversity, reds, yellows, and pinks blending together in harmony, creating a vision of ethereal beauty in the heart of the grey and white structure.

Victor places your bag down on one of the wooden benches, taking a seat after which you follow suit, crossing your legs and setting down your laptop sleeve and your drink before taking a bite of the flakey pastry. It’s not as warm as you’d like but the taste still makes up for it.

“How many exams do you have this week?” He asks as he crosses his leg over the other and rests his arm over the back of the bench, his body turned to face you.

“Three.” You mumble with a mouthful. “Two on Thursday then my last one on Friday.” You nod in confirmation and take your drink to take a hearty sip of coffee.

“I see.” He hums and taps his hand against the bench as if thinking of his next question.

You observe him in your seat, his blonde hair slightly unruly as if he’s been running his hand against it a couple of times yet still looking neat with how it drops to his forehead. The glasses he wears have a yellow tint to them, matching perfectly with his powder blue button-up and the yellow tie around his neck that is covered by a navy sweater, which you can’t help but notice accentuates his muscly physique.

If you didn’t know he was a librarian, you’d think he was one of the professors, especially with his unmatched knowledge of different subject matters, that with every question you ask him, he seems to always have an answer.

“I was just wondering, that you would finally consider my invitation for drinks down at the campus pub?” He asks, looking a little sheepish as he faces you. “To celebrate your finals and all that.”

His invitation stops you mid-bite on your pastry, lowering it to your lap as you look down and consider his request.

You’ve been putting off his invitation so long since you met, not only because you choose to study and get ahead in class but the fact that he’s a staff in the university worries you. You’re not blind, he is an attractive man, and you aren’t dense either, feeling that his invitation means more than friends simply going out for drinks.

And you’ve seen the way he looks at you. How his blue eyes shine with a hint of desire whenever you are within his orbit. The subtle brushing of your hands when you walk close by and how he seems protective of you when he senses your distress. And how he goes the extra mile to help you with your studies, making things easier by providing the materials you need for your classes and most of all for your exams.

You just don’t want to be the talk of the university. Something you dread even during your time in high school; is that students would find something to use to poke fun at you or worse, be the target of their bullying, and as shitty as it sounds, the university is not spared from such baser creatures.

It’s okay. He’s not a professor. A small voice in your head whispers, making you look up at Victor and see those blue eyes shining once again. And it’s just a drink. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You mutter and sip on your coffee before fully looking at him and giving him a wide smile. “Friday night then?” You ask.

And the smile he gives you seems to take your breath away.

“Friday night.” He agrees.

The week passes by in a blur. Your routine consisting of waking up, grabbing some breakfast, attending your classes, studying in the library with Victor keeping you company, going back to your dorm, eating the usual ramen for dinner, and heading to bed.

Even so, you’ve finally finished your final exam. The weight of academic responsibilities lifting from your shoulders as you leave the lecture hall, confident about your answers and the small thesis you wrote for the final question.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you immediately know who it is.

‘Do you want me to pick you up at your dorm or should we meet at the pub instead?’ Victor’s message stares up at you from your phone.

‘I can just meet you there. Going to drop my bag and change my coat.’ You type and tuck your phone back into your coat. Your phone buzzes again as you leave the building, assuming it’s Victor for he’s the only one that ever messages you aside from your parents, not really having any friends in university.

You trudge through the snow-covered path on your way to your dorm, seeing several students littering the streets, tugging luggages behind them, and loading them up in the trunk of their awaiting cars, leaving campus for the holidays. Even the frat house five buildings from yours seem to be emptying out with the jocks hollering, already sounding drunk while tossing their bags inside a black van.

You were supposed to go home for the holidays as well, wanting to see your parents and enjoy the comfort of your own bed in your own home. But your mom told you that they would be spending Christmas with your aunt who lives in San Diego.

They invited you to go with them, but your aunt’s family is a weird bunch, not the company you wish to spend your vacation with. So you turned down their request and told them you’ll visit in the summer instead.

Upon reaching your dorm, you drop your bag onto your computer chair and relieve yourself from your scarf and coat, hanging them on the hooks by your door and toeing off your boots, leaving you in your leggings, your sweater, and your blue fuzzy socks before laying down on your bed with an audible sigh leaving your lips, feeling the sleepless nights catching up on you.

You check the clock above your desk and see that it’s only 5:30. Giving you enough time for a quick nap before you head over to the pub to meet Victor.

You grab your phone and read his last message, tapping on the clock app after and setting an alarm for 6:30. That’s enough time for a nap. You tell yourself as you pull the comforter over your body and slowly drift into a much-needed sleep.

The winter chill picks up when you make your way to the pub. Your shoes crunching against the slushy snow, making you curse when the water splatters on the legs of your pants.

You’re thankful for the heat though once you enter the campus pub, the place is not as crowded as you expected, just how you like it, and look around in search of Victor.

You hear your name being called at the side, turning your head and smiling when you see Victor decked in a white button-up shirt and a black leather jacket, his glasses gone but his hair combed back, making him look dashing, especially with the wide smile playing on his lips.

He’s got an empty pint of beer sitting on the table when you join him, taking a seat across from him on the booth and pulling off your coat to set it down beside you.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” You tell him, a small frown forming on your face. “I took a nap when I got back to the dorm and I slept through my alarm for some reason.”

“No need to apologize. I’ve waited almost three years for this. A couple more minutes wouldn’t hurt.” Victor chuckles then holds up his hand to call a server. “What matters is you’re here now and we can enjoy the rest of the night together.” The grin on his face is contagious, making you smile back at his words.

A server then appears at the side of your table and you order a Peach Bellini, showing your ID when she asks for it, Victor ordering another pint of beer and a plate of nachos to share.

You look at him curiously when he presents his ID to the server. The woman simply nods, scanning his card after and walking away from their table. Not that Victor is old but anyone who would look at him at the first glance would know that he isn’t that young either to provide an ID just to drink.

“University staff gets 20% off.” He simply answers your unsaid question when he catches you staring at him, a blush forming on your cheeks as embarrassment washes over you.

“I didn’t know you had that perk.” You mumble shyly, peeking up to look at him.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He simply says with a playful smirk and frankly, you couldn’t agree more.

You’re left in awe as Victor tells you stories about his life before becoming the Library Manager at your campus. How he used to work for the infamous Tony Stark and helped him create the computer program that powers the Iron Man suits.

“I felt that I needed something new.” He says when you ask why he decided to switch career paths. “And I’ve always been fond of books. So, I thought, why not work with them.” And you can’t help but agree with his reasoning as well and find the smile he gives you somewhat adorable, a dimple forming on his cheek when he does.

“Have you ever had a relationship before?” He asks after you take a sip of your third frozen bellini, your eyes widening in surprise at the sudden turn of conversation. “I’m sorry—” He blinks when he sees you staring, his eyes darting everywhere but at you. “You don’t have to tell me anything—”

“No.” You confess, a light chuckle leaving your lips. “I’ve never been in a relationship before.” You’re usually shy at such topics, avoiding your auntie when she asks you if you already have a boyfriend whenever she comes to visit your mom back home. But the alcohol swirling within you gives you the courage you never expected. “Have you?” You ask.

“I’m not certain if it was a relationship we had but I was smitten by this woman in the past.” He says while caressing his pint of beer, the foam still floating to the brim. “We enjoyed each other’s company and I eventually told her of my fears, but in the end, she manipulated me and hurt me. I’ve never looked back ever since and I won’t allow such a thing to happen again.”

You can’t help but feel remorse as he tells you of his experience. Your heart aching for the man before you as you think why someone would do such a thing to someone as attentive and sweet as him. It’s one of the things you fear in being committed to someone. That you’d pour your heart and soul and expect them to do the same only for them to do the complete opposite and leave you broken.

You reach over the table and place your hand over his, giving it a gentle pat and giving him a soft smile. “She’s stupid then.” You tell him. “You seem like a sweet guy. And if she didn’t see that, well, she definitely missed out.”

“Your words are kind.” He says, placing a hand atop yours and giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you. How about you though?” He turns the tables, putting you on the spot with the question. “How come you’ve never been with anyone before? If I’m being honest, you’re beautiful. Inside and out.” His comment makes you blush hard, your hand reaching up to give your cheek a pat. “I’m being serious.” And the look he gives you, how his eyes beam at you makes you know that he truly is.

“It’s just that—studying has always been my number one priority. It’s what I was taught when I was a kid and it’s what I believe in until now.” You hum as your fingers fiddle with the stem of your glass. “And besides, I don’t really need a man to make me happy. I’m fine on my own and I do enjoy my own company.” You chuckle. “I like being independent.”

“But what if someone makes their interests known?” He asks, his question slightly expectant. And you can’t help but feel that he’s the someone he’s talking about. “Would you entertain them?”

“If I like them back and they understand my desire to focus on my studies, then why not.” You giggle and hide your lips behind your glass. “Though I don’t think I would make a good girlfriend.”

“Why’s that?”

“Like I said,” you lift your glass to your lips and down the last of its contents, giving Victor a full, tipsy smile. “I like being independent.”

The bellinis have truly done their job as you stumble out of the pub in a fit of giggles and walk down the path to your dorm. Victor’s hand is at your elbow, trying to keep you upright, his chuckles resounding in your ears when he tells you you’re drunk, to which you respond in a slur of words, “I’m just tipsy.”

You tried to tell him that you can make it on your own, that you don’t need to take up his time by having him walk you back to your place. But with the way your vision blurs, the trees mixing together in the dead of the night, you’re thankful for his insistence and rely on him to take you back safely.

You smile when your building comes into view, feeling Victor’s hands rest on your hips as you ascend the three steps to the front door.

“I’m home.” You say as you face him with a loopy smile, your eyes meeting his as he stands on the bottom step, having you notice how tall he truly is. “Thank you for tonight.”

“It is I who should thank you for finally agreeing to have drinks with me.” He smiles as he reaches down to take your hand in his, feeling his thumb caress your knuckles. “I had a lovely evening.”

Even though you’re squiffy, you feel the tension building between the both of you. How his sapphire eyes bore into yours and the warmth of his hand pulling at your heartstrings. Without a second thought, you lean over and press a soft lingering kiss against his lips. Innocent and sweet. He moves closer and you have no choice but to lean up, your free hand gently pressing against his strong chest as he grips on your coat to hold you in place.

He moves his lips slowly and you follow his lead, your eyes closing as you breathe him in, the warmth emanating from him enveloping you in a soft embrace, blocking away the cold breeze of winter that brushes against your cheeks.

You pull away and giggle as your lips tingle with delight. It’s your first kiss and you’re happy that it wasn’t sloppy and messy, but gentle and warm. He whispers your name and you feel your heart jump with how his tongue rolls on each syllable. He then takes both your hands in his grasp and lifts them to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he presses a kiss on your knuckles.

“May you have sweet dreams tonight, Darling.”

“You too.” You whisper before turning back and walking into your dorm, seeing him still standing outside as you turn to climb the flight of stairs.

You stir awake when you feel a chill run over your skin, your body shivering from what you suspect is the winter breeze blowing through the screen of your window and the unknown sensation pulling at the pit of your stomach.

Your head lols as you try to pat for your blanket, wanting to shield yourself from the cold but a mewl surprisingly emits from your throat, and the wetness coming from the apex of your thighs completely pulls you from your sleep.

That’s when you become aware of someone between your legs, your eyes opening wide in a surge of panic as you feel your thighs pushed apart by strong hands, your night shift bunched up at your middle, the assault of their tongue on your cunt relentless and intent.

“Stop!” You shout as you move your hands despite your groggy state, forcing your body to fully wake up and lifting your hands to slap their head and push them away from you.

But you’re only met with pain as if you’ve hit something rock-hard, another scream forming on your lips as tears begin rolling down the side of your face, but it only comes out as a moan as your body convulses from the unwelcome arousal, your back arching from the unexpected orgasm.

You pant heavily unto your mattress, the adrenaline you felt when you woke up seeping out of you in an instant and you shiver when the mouth of your attacker leaves your cunt, and feel the press of their lips on the sides of your inner thighs.

You’re disoriented and confused. Your tears continuously flowing down your face as you try to think of how they got in and who they are. You made sure to lock your door and you know the building of your dorm to have a security system on it. One only known to its tenants.

“Who are you?” You whimper as you try to pull your body close. But the way they grip on your ankle prevents you from doing so, making you look up to face the devil in your room.

Your eyes grow wide when you see a shadow of a man, illuminated only by the glow of yellow light from his forehead, having a glimpse of his crimson skin and the silver lines around his head.

You recognize him. He’s one of them. The Avengers. The synthezoid, as they called him, that went missing 3 years ago. Whose face was all over the news when Tony Stark made the announcement that they will reward anyone who would give them knowledge of his whereabouts.

The Vision.

“Why are you doing this?” You choke out from your tears as he crawls on top of you, his hand taking your thighs and wrapping them around his torso, pressing your cunt flush against his erection. “Please, I won’t tell anyone.” You beg. “Just leave me alone.”

He remains silent. Nothing but the sound of your panicked breathing and his calm one mixing in the four corners of your small room. Seeing no reaction on his face except for the way his eyes look at you in hunger as the yellow light continues to glow at his forehead.

You try to push him away, pressing your hands against his abdomen but he grabs your wrists and grips them tightly in one of his while his other hand reaches down to your pussy, a strangled moan leaving your lips when he rolls his thumb against your swollen clit, stimulating you even further and cursing yourself as your body sings, from his monstrous touch.

He then moves to lift himself and prod his cock against your entrance, a low groan leaving his throat, the first sound you hear from him, when he slowly pushes himself inside of you inch by inch, your teeth gritting in pain as your pussy walls stretch from his size and your body writhing from the discomfort you feel within.

“Please— don’t—“ but your begging stops as your breath catches in your throat when he sheaths himself completely inside of you, your chest heaving as your pussy pulses around his shaft.

You bite your lips as he slowly pulls back, the fullness of your abdomen leaving you when he leaves only the head inside. But soon after, a cry of pain escapes from your lips when he pushes back in hard, snapping his hips fast as he begins to thrust his hips at a brutal pace.

The tears begin running down your face once more as you lay on your bed helpless, your eyes shut tight and your hands bound in his firm grasp while he violates you, his cock going in and out of your wet cunt, your juices from earlier lubricating him further, allowing him to fuck you easily, the bed rocking underneath the both of you from his frantic momentum.

You don’t understand why this is happening to you. You’re a nobody. An unseen entity amidst the sea of people that pass you by every day, and yet, this crimson demon, a being who’s promised to protect the human race, has seen you and decided to bestow upon you this tragedy.

Your eyes then open wide when you feel his weight press against you, your hands released from his grip yet his body preventing you from moving any further. His lips find your neck and he sucks on a patch of skin, bruising the flesh from underneath his lips and making you bare your teeth from the pain when his teeth sink in.

A sudden pull at the pit of your stomach stirs your body, squirming underneath him as your hips lift from the bed, pressing against his own and your back arching from the pressure.

His pace quickens even further, his breath on your neck labored and heavy, the low groan on his throat mixing with the sound of your pants. Then something breaks in you, the sensation from earlier making itself known once more as you feel your body go rigid when you reach your peak, a gasp escaping you as your clutch on his arms, his body stilling soon after, feeling his cock push deeper inside of you, the yellow light burning brightly in your room when he releases inside of you, a growl pouring out of his mouth as you feel the warmth of his seed coat your walls deep within.

His heavy breathing gradually slows as he eases the rhythm of his thrusts, riding out his orgasm and pulling you back down from your unwanted high.

He eventually pulls out, leaving you spent on the bed and feeling his lips trail kisses against the bruise on your neck and down your shoulder while his hands run down from your hips and to your thighs.

“Why?” You whimper and close your eyes as you refuse to look at your abuser. But just like before, you receive no response.

And when you open your eyes, he’s gone.

You look around the room and see the locks on the door still in place and the window ajar but with the screen still intact. You have no knowledge of what his abilities are except for the fact that he is not of your kind, inhuman, not only for his features but for his actions.

You make yourself small on the bed, pulling your legs to your knees as you try to rid yourself of the memory of his hands and mouth on you. How his grip tightened around your hands almost to the point of him crushing them.

A chime then fills the silence of your room and the glow of your phone resting on your nightstand grabs your attention. Picking up the device and crying once again when you see Victor’s name on the screen, a good night message with a heart next to it.

You open up his chat box and see multiple messages from him since both of you parted. Expressing his happiness for such a wonderful evening and his desire to see you once again.

Without giving a second thought, you press the phone icon beside his name and listen to the ringing at the other end of the line, your heart constricting when he says your name with such joy.

You don’t respond but a whimper escapes you all at once, Victor seemingly sensing your distress when he asks, “Darling, what’s wrong?”

“C-can you c-come ov-ver?” You stutter as you look around your room once more in fear that he would show up again. “Please?” You beg quietly.

“Give me 10 minutes.” He says in a rush and you end the call, sending him a message with the number code of your building, not caring anymore that it’s against the rules to share it, for if someone can simply get inside and ensue chaos, there’s nothing stopping anyone from doing the same.

You always wanted to be alone. Simply enjoying the solace that your company gives you, the peace of having fruitful conversations with yourself. But after his visit, after doing what he did, a being people expected to protect you from harm and not inflict it, an Avenger, you don’t think you’d want to be alone anymore. After the damage he’s inflicted, you don’t desire to be alone ever.

You sit on your computer chair in silence as Victor fusses over your room. The light from your lamp revealing the bloody sheets in his hands, evidence of the nightmare you’ve lived, as he discards them into your hamper.

You’re changed too. Wearing a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that swallows you whole after cleaning yourself in the dormitory bathroom, crying on the floor while rubbing your skin raw, trying to remove any remnants of his touch while Victor stayed outside keeping watch.

You haven’t told him what happened yet. You don’t think you have the courage nor the energy to relive the trauma. To see the face of the devil that took what he wanted from you. But from the way he blanched when you opened your door, his eyes wide while looking down at the blood that stains your inner thighs and legs, you know that he has an idea of the monstrosity that’s happened.

Once Victor finishes changing the sheets, he kneels in front of you, his blue eyes full of concern as he carefully takes your hand and presses a light kiss on your bruised wrist.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” He asks, but you can’t find it in you to speak. So you nod your response and slowly, he helps you off the chair and to the bed, your tired body dropping onto the mattress unceremoniously and Victor pulling the comforter over you.

You feel his hand gently caress your hair and you cannot help but cry once more. A mix of emotions surges into you, leaving you hollow, the confusion running in your head as you keep asking yourself why it happened to you. What you’ve done to deserve such misfortune.

“I’m here now, Darling.” He whispers softly, feeling his lips press against your temple. “I’ll protect you.”

The feel of his hand on your head slowly lulls you to sleep, your eyes drooping when the exhaustion finally takes over you. Darkness bathing your room when you hear the click of your lamp, and the glow of yellow bouncing on your walls is the last thing you see before you fall into oblivion.

#the vision #vision #vision x reader #victor shade #dark vision #dark!vision #dark fic #mcu au #vision mcu #coconut bun stories #the shade of darkness

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 2 years

Text

Study Break - Frank Iero x Reader

Summary: You’re stressing yourself out over an exam while on tour and Frank tries to take care of you. Reader: can be read as any gender Warnings: stress, language Word count: 2 153 A/N: I have an exam in pretty exactly 12hours from posting this. Instead of studying I wrote what was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this.

You had known it was a stupid idea even before you had decided on it, but the idea of letting someone else play your part, of letting someone else play the songs and melodies you had helped come up with had just felt absolutely wrong. But now that you were on tour with My Chemical Romance, knowing you would have to write this stupid exam two days after returning home, you felt like perhaps, just maybe, you should have sat this one out.

The past years had already been hard enough, with driving or flying out to foreign cities as soon as the last lecture of the week was over, playing two or three shows and barely making it back to the classroom in time on Monday morning. One more year of this, you told yourself, and then you would have your degree, and could go on tour with your friends, relaxing between shows just like them, instead of studying for what felt like every waking minute you did not spend on stage. But right now the promise of a whole more year of this was agonizing, especially when you already felt like the next exercise was too much.

Falling backwards onto the mattress of your bunk, in which you had sat, crouched over your book, you let out a quiet sigh. Three days until the exam. The last show of this leg of the tour was tonight, a little more than eight hours away. Maybe you should take a break, have some milk or a snack. After all you had studied since you had finished breakfast, after only a short night.

As if your thoughts had been heard, there was a quiet knock against the frame of your bunk. You groaned affirmatively, and a moment later Frank pushed the curtain you had drawn closed aside, and poked his head in.

“I brought snacks,” he declared, showing you how he was balancing a cup of cold strawberry milk and a plate with cut fruits, crackers and cheese in one hand. The cup was so cold, that condensed water from the warm bus was already running down at the sides, collecting as drops on the bottom.

“Oh my god, you are an angel,” you laughed, and sat up, taking the treats from him, and placing them on the narrow board that functioned as your headboard. “Where are the others?”

The bus had stopped what you assumed must have been a few hours ago, and not much later you had heard the other band members getting ready to go out.

“Exploring the city,” Frank shrugged. “I’m kinda certain Mikey’ll be close to missing sound-check again because he found some ice cream parlour or something.”

With furrowed brows you watched Frank gesture at you.

“What?”

“Move! I’m coming in.”

“Frank-”

All protest was futile as Frank heaved himself up and into your bunk, falling half on top of you in the narrow space.

“Oh, hello there,” he grinned, his face only inches away from yours, leaning on his elbow right besides your head.

“Get off,” you grumbled, quickly trying to crawl out from underneath Frank without him noticing the how embarrassed you had gotten all of a sudden. It was not unusual for Frank to invade your space, which you anything but minded. Still he hardly was ever as close as now, and you did not trust yourself to not do something really stupid if he stayed this close for longer.

“Whoa, so hostile,” Frank pouted, but rolled off of you, almost falling out of the bunk bed in the process, before he sat up. “So, when was the last time you took a proper break?”

The speed at which he went from childishly playful to caring and serious might one day give you whiplash.

“When was the last time you minded your own business,” you answered, sitting up again, so your back was to him and leaning over the book once more, checking the sheet of paper besides it to see which exercise you had to do next.

“I’m serious. You won’t learn anything without proper breaks.”

You had lost count of how many times you had lead similar conversations with him in the past weeks.

“I know, just another...” you counted the numbers on the sheet, “another 4 exercises.”

“How about-” you felt Frank move behind you, before he leant over your shoulder and reached for a piece of cut strawberry, “you do these exercises after the break.”

Placing his other hand on your chin, he turned your head enough to feed you the piece of strawberry, which most definitely made your face heat up. If he noticed, he did not say anything, and instead watched you with raised eyebrows, as you unhappily chewed on the fruit. But you had to admit, the sweet taste and intense aroma was better than most of the stuff you had had in the last weeks, if not months.

“Good?”

Begrudgingly you nodded in agreement, making Frank smile.

“See, not that hard.”

He reached for another piece of fruit, intending to continue feeding you, but you turned your head away, trying to maintain some sort of pride.

“I can eat myself, thanks,” you mumbled, and took the piece of apple from Frank.

“Fine, but then do it,” he replied, not at all salty, rather amused. He knew how close to a breakdown you were due to all the stress and the pressure of performing well both on stage and in the upcoming exam.

With a deep sigh you popped the apple in your mouth, and grabbed the plate before turning so your back was leaning against the outside of the bus. A victorious grin spread over Frank’s face as he watched you take a cracker first, before he grabbed a few grapes for himself. Sitting in silence you shared the food he had brought for you. It was a comfortable silence, one you were only able to share with him, nobody else. And yet the whole time you noticed him watching you. By the time you had finished eating, your mood had brightened a little, and quizzically you looked at Frank.

“What is it?”

Frank shrugged, his eyes scanning your face worriedly.

“Just… you need to take better care of yourself, you know?”

You sighed, having heard the same sermon many times already.

“I know, I know,” you shook your head. “But it’s not like I can pass this exam without studying for it.”

“That’s not- Listen, I have the highest respect for you, doing both the band and college at the same time, and I know you have to study. It’s just… I think you’d do still way good enough with a little less stressing yourself out. I just don’t want you to- I don’t know, have a breakdown or something.”

“I’m having a breakdown approximately every thirty minutes,” you joked humourlessly.

“And that’s the problem! I mean, how much did you sleep last night, huh?” Frank scooted a little closer to you, taking the plate out of your hand and placing it next to the untouched glass of strawberry milk on the little shelf. “Four hours? Five at max, right?”

You only shrugged in response, not feeling like telling him that it had probably been closer to three than to four hours.

“Please,” Frank pleaded, his eyes big as he grabbed your hands in his rough ones. “Take breaks, take a walk or a nap, eat something, drink a glass of water- I don’t care what, just take better care of yourself.”

Only half of what he was saying actually reached you, since he had lent so close that his face was only inches from yours. Up this close you could see every single dark lash, the small specks in his eyes, the faint, almost invisible freckles on his nose.

It seemed as if in just that moment Frank himself had grown aware of the proximity, of how you were holding your breath, of the intimacy of the moment.

You were about to take a breath, about to say something to diffuse the tension like you always did, in order to not make him uncomfortable, when Frank’s eyes shortly, but noticeably, skipped to your lips.

“Fuck this,” he swore in the small space between you, before closing it and pressing his lips to yours.

Surprised – pleasantly surprised – you inhaled, your hand, which was not clasped in Frank’s, coming up to his neck, holding him in place. The kiss was soft and warm, in the already too warm bunk, it tasted of summer, of strawberries and watermelon and the relief of breaks from studying. It was fresh air, and yet familiar, Frank was familiar, his smell, the feeling of his hair between your fingers. The way he kissed you was gentle, nothing like the kisses he threatened to chase Gerard or Ray around on stage with. Those were sweat and spit and teeth, but this, right here, right now, was careful, as if he was scared to hurt you, or to be pushed away.

You lost track of time, had no idea for how long you had been kissing Frank, only that you began to grow dizzy with happiness, or lack of oxygen, it was hard to tell. But it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter because you were kissing Frank, and Frank was kissing you, and it felt like somehow, in all that stress and chaos and pressure, somehow everything had fallen into place, as if you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Eventually Frank broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, but the way he kept his forehead pressed to yours told you he did not feel all too guilty about having kissed you without having asked for your consent first.

“Don’t be,” you answered, and kissed him again, short, softer this time, but it made him smile so hard he broke the kiss again.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long,” he grinned, his eyes searching for yours.

The only thing you were able to say to that was a weak ‘yeah’, which made Frank grin even more, if that was still possible.

For a while you sat like that, heads leant against each other, shut away from the real world outside the small bunk bed, Frank playing with your fingers and you watching him.

Only the crash of the forcefully thrown open bus door startled you, and all of a sudden everything came flooding back, the tour, the other band members, the show tonight, the exam, the studying-

“Hey Frankie, where are you,” Gerard shouted, his steps nearing the bed area.

Alarmed you sat up, anxiously looking over to Frank. As perfect as the kiss and the silence afterwards had been, you had no idea if Frank meant the others to find out. But Frank just tightened his fingers around yours gently, before answering the lead singer.

“Hey, Frankie, (y/n), we were just wondering- did you two make out?”

Gerard had, with far less care for boundaries than Frank previously, ripped open the curtain to your bunk bed and eyed the two of you suspiciously. Only then you realised that, even if there were a decent amount of distance between the two of you, and no hand-holding, Frank’s lips were still red and slightly swollen from the kiss, and so were yours most likely.

“Jealous,” Frank asked cockily, demonstratively intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Of (y/n)? Definitely,” Gerard giggled, making Frank and you both laugh. “Anyway, we were going to order some pizza, you guys want some too?”

Both Frank and you nodded in agreement, and Gerard let you know to join the rest of the band in front of the bus to choose what you wanted from a flyer the others had found somewhere, before he disappeared as quickly as he had turned up.

“Just so we’re clear here,” Frank started, watching as you slowly stretched, “I’ve liked you for a real fucking long time, and if it were up to me, we wouldn’t go back to how things were… before.”

You turned to look at him, a comfortable warmth spreading through your chest at his words.

“Then we won’t,” you told him, noticing how he relaxed at your reply.

He grinned, before he slipped out of the bunk bed, and once you had gotten out as well, he immediately intertwined his fingers with yours again. He was about to lead out to the front of the bus, when his eyes fell to your other hand, holding the book you had been working with before.

“Seriously,” he deadpanned and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Seriously. Only four more exercises, I’ll be finished by the time the pizza arrives.”

Frank rolled his eyes but grinned.

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, and pressed a kiss to your forehead before he led you out to the others.

Tagged:

@alexstyx @jayloverthe3rd @robinruns @lookalivefrosty @butterflycore @vamp-void @omgsuperstarg @reinaeru @deadlovers @kpopchangedmylifesstuff

#frank iero x reader #frank iero x reader imagine #frank iero x reader fluff #frank iero x reader fanfic #frank iero x reader fanfiction #frank iero x reader imagines #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance x reader #my chemical romance x reader imagine #friends to lovers #fluff

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llyncooljones · 2 years

Text

tell me how you really feel - elorcan.

ao3 || masterlist || elorcan masterlist

word count: 3240

trigger warnings: language, innuendo, slight sexual content.

tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp @rowanaelin @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @themoonthestarsthesuriel @autumnbabylon @letstakethedawn

her apartment, early hours of the morning.

Elide knows she shouldn’t have done it. She isn’t an idiot. She isn’t slow, nor is she stupid. She’s got a little dose of anxiety but that certainly isn’t enough to prompt her to screw up on such a massive scale.

It all started early one Saturday morning. And when she says early, she means at four in the morning in the college library whilst they are both starving themselves of sleep revising for exams that are in little more than seventy-two hours.

one year and two months ago, the library, four in the morning.

The words are blurring on the page, and she really isn’t sure whether the words she’s reading are about early childhood brain development, or whether they’re about the risk the lack of parental security poses for children in the foster care system.

She could probably guess, but she really doesn’t have the brain power to. She also just doesn’t feel like it. The idea of using anything: her eyes, her mouth, her laptop, her brain, her fucking lungs; hurts her body.

So, she doesn’t.

She’s just going to rest her head on this textbook, and she’s going to close her eyes and she’s going to wake up in a few hours ready for the day, ready for the gym session she has with her best friends every morning.

And she’s almost there, she’s almost asleep when the damnedest thing happens. A rumble akin to that of a battering ram bounces her head from the old, crinkly pages of her textbook. She restrains herself from shouting out, not because she gives a damn about whichever rude bastard just ruined her almost drifting off, but more because she knows every other student in this damned fucking library is also just trying to sleep on their textbooks and not fret too much.

The slow movement of her neck ends up hurting her aching spine, but she feels powerful as her eyes finally pull up alongside her head and she’s faced with him.

Tall, cocky, and muscular him.

Black hair, brown eyes, long legs him.

In her early childhood development classes, books the same study rooms as her, best friends with her best friend's boyfriend (does that make him her best-friend-in-law?) him.

Lorcan Motherfucking Salvaterre him.

And if she’s being perfectly honest with herself, she wouldn’t be surprised if his middle name really is motherfucking. Because from what she’s heard about his childhood through the everlasting grapevine her best friend is, it’s that his mother was in high enough during her pregnancy to make his middle name Motherfucking, and it to be a miracle he came out with a fully formed brain.

Funnily enough, he was born an addict.

This means he’s an uptight ass at parties who doesn’t drink or do drugs, who just sits on the stairs and looks at people when they try to get to the rooms upstairs.

Which means he’s an uptight ass at parties who always has the honour of helping her up the stairs to the good bathroom and holding back her hair, the uptight ass who always dresses her in one of his overly large t-shirts without managing to peek, the uptight ass who lets her sleep in his bed whilst his six-foot-seven self takes the armchair in the corner.

And this means he’s the unhappy, still-sleepy, uptight ass who gets to see her trainwreck self after a hangover, who brings her tomato juice and raw eggs and whatever else hangover cure he’s come across over the week. He’s the one who sees her with raccoon eyes, because he hasn’t quite learnt the trick of getting mascara off eyelashes whilst the subject sleeps.

And all this from Lorcan.

Lorcan who doesn’t acknowledge her presence outside of their Saturday night ritual, and their Sunday morning breakfasts-in-bed, Lorcan who sits as far as humanly possible from her in the lecture halls, who makes sure to take the seat on the opposite end from when they have dinners with their friends, Lorcan who’s an ass in general to her except when he’s taking care of her pint-sized ass and dropping her home in his too-tall truck that he lifts her in and out of, with the passenger seat permanently fixed to her height.

She would say they’re friends, he would say they don’t even know each other.

“Lorcan, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” she smiles sweetly, saccharinely, sleepily. And maybe, violently.

“Look, I get it. We don’t know each other outside of Saturday and Sunday, but I could really use your help for the upcoming final. It’s gonna kick my ass all the way to next Christmas if I don’t try to do anything.” His voice. Oh, how she platonically loves his voice, oh, how she platonically wet dreams about his voice.

“So, you decide to interrupt precious sleep, to ask for mentoring? Tutoring? Damn, Lor, new lows. New fucking lows.”

“I get it if you need your fucking beauty sleep, but what I need is to pass this fucking exam. I don’t give two fucks what I have to do, as long it ends with me passing.” His voice is rough, gravelly and dark, and even slightly sexual. But Elide is so tired she can’t read properly, there isn’t a chance in hell she can accurately discern tonal differences.

That edge to his voice isn’t unfamiliar to her, she knows it all too well. The same voice whispers in her ear about disappearing upstairs before the night is over. He says it so overtly that if she didn’t know he was joking, she’d just about fall to her knees and find out just how many inches her throat can take.

“You know what would wake me up? Do you know, Lorcan?” the answer, if she says so herself, is obvious.

So obvious in fact that they say it in perfect unison, despite never having said the word in front of the other before. “An orgasm.”

present-day, her apartment, early in the morning.

It’s been fourteen months of covert hook-ups; of fingering her under the table; of blow jobs in their friends’ bathrooms. Fourteen months of sparking sexual tension that even their most clueless of friends have caught onto. Fourteen months of his big self, pleasing her tiny one.

And now, he’s lying in her bed. In fact, they’re lying in her bed together, the covers pulled high to fight off the brutal air conditioning, with his body curled around hers, that massive hard-on of his poking deliciously at the lush curves of her.

They’re spooning in her bed, and she can’t remember the last time they didn’t sleep in the same bed as each other, can’t remember a time when his toothbrush wasn’t in the cup next to hers, can’t think of the last moment his hoodie wasn’t hanging off one of her dining chairs.

It’s either his room or hers, and whichever one you walk into, the other’s presence is painfully obvious. Elide has left her cacti tote bag hanging on the coat hooks in his hallways, and her embroidered Doc Martens are at the foot of his bed, and a bottle of her favourite perfume sits next to his delightful cologne.

Her head is resting comfortably against the muscles in his biceps and triceps, her hair falling all over her shoulders and his forearms. And her eyes are heavy even though her mind is racing, and it’s all because of the steady breaths her fuckbuddy is taking, and the slow rise and fall of his chest against her back, and the gentle reminder of his heartbeat on her shoulder.

That comforting scent of his that’s all man, and rugged, and cinnamon, and just delicious. That’s soothing and home-like to her conditioned brain.

Her eyes are still closed but what keeps her awake is as clear to her now as it would be if she were looking at it.

It’s sitting in the back left corner of her nightstand drawer, and it’s a little box wrapped in ‘woodland man’ wrapping paper. It’s maybe the size of her palm, the width of his wrist, the height of the soles of her Vans. So, it’s small, inconspicuous, and really quite insignificant.

But at the same time, it’s the most important box that’s ever existed, in relation to her and Lorcan’s situation. Because it changes everything, no matter the reaction.

No matter how many times she’s tried to convince herself it doesn’t matter, she knows it really does. No matter how many times she tells herself it’s something every friends-with-benefits relationship does, she knows it isn’t.

Underneath the neat wrapping that took her far too long to complete, is a black box with a faintly embossed logo that is written in the Old Language, and then underneath a layer of tissue paper, in a silk pouch, is a delicate, faux-weathered chain; a little medallion attached to it.

The silver oval is also faux-weathered, looking as though it has lasted a lifetime against someone’s chest, being brushed by clothes, eroded by rubbing against the sheets. Words that are smaller than others, and a face that isn’t perfect.

The necklace wasn’t supposed to happen.

She had seen it in the shop window whilst running errands in downtown Orynth, and the first thought that popped into her head was that Lorcan would love it. After that: she put it out of her mind, she forgot about it.

Until the next day whilst she was going for a run down the main high street – building up her endurance for whatever reason (whatever reason being so that she and Lorcan could go for longer without her getting out of breath so suddenly).

She had ignored it again, knowing it was wrong. Knowing she shouldn’t.

But then she did, she bought the necklace, she chose what she knew Lorcan would love, and she had it gift-wrapped to the very fucking max. She bought him a present, and it might as well have been the most nerve-wracking moment of her life.

Excluding every single moment since then, constantly plagued with the notion that he might hate it, that he might reject her, that it might be the straw that broke the metaphorical camel’s back of their relationship. Their relationship that she isn’t sure is a relationship.

A shift of Lorcan’s thigh between her own has her thoughts slipping, as the hard muscle brushes against the most intimate parts of her. With her cunt throbbing against his thigh, she makes the scariest decision.

Her sudden stillness, or maybe it’s the lack of grinding back onto his thigh, catches the attention of her fuckbuddy, and creates a sudden stillness in him as well. She hates it. They should be fuckbuddies. They should fuck, be buddies, and leave the other’s bed.

Instead, they fuck, then they fuck again, then they chat and talk like they’re married, fuck again, have breakfast, spend the day together; and so, it goes on. You get the point. She knows his habits in the way she never her ex-boyfriend's habits, he knows her moods and how to fix them like even her best friend doesn’t.

So, they aren’t fuckbuddies. Not really. They’re a couple in a year-long, hidden relationship who masquerade as fuckbuddies and keep their whole sham of a relationship (whichever way they may choose to define it) hidden from the prying eyes of their friends.

With a hand around her waist, and the other gently cupping her neck, his chest vibrates as he utters the words, she knew he would: “What you got on your mind, El?” She doesn’t respond, not for a beat, and then not for another beat. She can feel his heart racing as her shoulder blades press into the wide expanse of his chest.

“Nothing,” simple, concise, evasive (and gods, does Lorcan know that).

The dark-haired man behind her doesn’t even deign her bullshit with an answer, not even an action, not even the tilting of his neck. Instead, he stares at the back of her head like he can see the lies, like he can see the truths, like he can see the love.

“No, really, it's nothing. It’s ir-fucking-relevant.” A hint of anger has crept up into her tone, like a dog on a scent, Lorcan picks up on it. She can tell by the quick indrawn breath he takes when she curses. When his arms begin to tighten around her, as his hand forms a fist somewhere under the pillows. She can tell in a million different ways that this has bothered him, and gods-damn, does it bother Elide that she knows it.

“Seriously, El. What has your panties in a bunch?” trust Lorcan fucking Salvaterre to be relentless, trust Lorcan fucking Salvaterre to see straight through every boundary, brick wall, and bullshitted response. Trust Elide fucking Lochan to become fuckbuddies who aren’t really fuckbuddies with the one person in the entire universe who will ever know her better than she knows herself.

Trust in that.

Trust, that in any awkward situation, Elide fucking Lochan will make a dirty joke, trust that she’ll fuck it all up.

“Nothing—because I don’t have any on. Which you know, Mr Salvaterre. Which you know very well.” Her sentences are punctuated with steady grinding movements against the thick muscle of his thigh, against the dark hair there that always sends her for a loop (or five).

“Elide. I am not, in any way, in the mood for this. C’mon. Be straight with me about this. Who can we tell, if we can’t tell each other.” His words hurt. Because she knows, she knows that the next words out of her mouth are going to stab him deeper than any knife could have ever dreamed of. She’s going to make a weapon of words, and she’s going to make sure that the knife can never be pulled out.

And she’s going to hate herself for it.

“See, this! This, this right here! This is my exact fucking issue. When we go from fuckbuddies to each other’s confessor, to each other’s confidant, to each other’s one and fucking lonely. We’ve become content to stay in with each other, we’ve become ten years married during the span of a year-long fuckbuddy relationship. Isn’t that so fucked!” her outburst is loud and proud and so terribly contradictory to Lorcan’s calm demeanour, his hurt expression, she watches the progression of it across the stone-hewn features of his face.

Elide had never known his face could look like that, so utterly destroyed. It sort of folds inwards, his forehead creasing with lines, his eyebrows furrowing, crow’s feet that a twenty-something shouldn’t have even more pronounced. His nose scrunching up like a toddler that’s eaten something bad.

And then she’s angry again.

Because they’re fuckbuddies, she shouldn’t notice all the minuscule changes in his face, shouldn’t notice what she does. And yet she does.

“Well fuck me sideways, Elide. Tell me how you really feel, then. I don’t think you got it all out that time.” His tone isn’t even angry, not even vicious. Its deeply sympathetic, understanding, and forever patient.

Because, fuck her, he knows her in the horrifying detail. And she knows him in the very same manner. Every single secret he’s kept is trusted to her, each scar he wears is hers to weep for, all his anger is hers to understand.

“I— Lor, you know that’s not how I feel. It’s just that… well you know, don’t you. Fucking serves me right for telling you everything. After all that, I don’t want to have to let anyone in, and yet you arrived at my front door and coaxed it open without even trying to. So much so that you’re in my head fucking everywhere I go,” she stands up abruptly, shivering as the warmth of the bed and of Lorcan rifts away from her, shivering as the nerves take over her body, and shivering as she walks across weathered floorboards to her nightstand drawer and pulls out her very own poltergeist. “Anyway. You want to know: so fucking know.”

She chucks the wrapped box at his head and closes her eyes, turning her back to the hunk of man behind her. She holds herself still and he moves to sit up, her knowledge aided by the squeaking of the mattress and bed frame. She holds her breath as he pulls the paper from the tape, savouring the wrapping paper with a laugh. She loses her mind so thoroughly when she hears the crinkling of tissue paper and the slide of the string against the pouch. She just about collapses into herself when the dinging of the chain hits her ears, as she bears her soul so completely to him without even looking into his eyes.

Wringing her hands, she still faces away, her breathing in fucking shambles. So much for breathing techniques, she thinks, thanking her therapist profusely.

“It’s, uh, it’s Saint Rita of Cascia. She was, at her canonization ceremony, made the Patroness of Impossible Causes. Though she became known as the patroness of abused wives and heartbroken women. She is known as the patron—or rather patroness—saint of lost, or improbable causes, sickness, and wounds, marital problems, abuse, and mothers.

“I saw the medallion walking through downtown and it made me think of your mother, and all she went through. And then I thought of you, and what you believe about yourself. And I want it to be a sign of the future for you, a sign of what was, rather than what is. You and your mother escaped the fucking hell of your dad, and I simply will not allow you to think of yourself as a lost cause. And I know it’s stupid and you probably hate it, but I hope it reminds you of how far you’ve come a—” she cut off abruptly when she’s wrapped in, quite possibly, the tightest, warmest, most deliciously perfect hug in the history of the world.

With his thick arms wrapped around her, banded under her breasts, his chest is pressed into her back, not leaving a single atom between them. His chin is tucked against the crown of her head, and she feels the safest she ever has.

Those soft, plush, sinful lips let loose the secrets of the world as they spill the most perfect sentence, she’s ever had the pleasure of listening to, “I love it. Lochan, fuck, I love it a little less than I love you, Elide Lochan.”

His heartbeat doesn’t even change. Doesn’t speed up, doesn’t slow down, doesn’t skip a beat. He’s so painfully in love with her that he doesn’t even react. He’s so used to feeling this way, that it’s like unlocking a front door he’s been knocking on. It’s like sitting down on the sofa and wrapping a blanket around himself, it’s like everything he ever wished for when he was young, it’s like everything he thought it would be, and better.

Elide can barely believe what he’s saying, but the heart of her knows he’s right, knows he’s telling the most wonderful truth, and knows that she’s feeling the exact same fucking way.

“Ditto, Lorcan Salvaterre, ditto.”

And that is all they’ve ever needed. That’s all they ever will. As they travel through life together, their love for each other.

#elorcan #lorcan salvaterre #elide lochan #tog #throne of glass #tog fic #throne of glass fic #my fic #my writing #llyncooljones' writing

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