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pattercakebakersman · 2 years

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Traveller of the positronic

Summary: Princess Bubblegum has salvaged what remained of Lemongrab 2′s soul and placed it in a robot body so they can continue their duties as Lemongrab’s companion.

Word count: 1.1K (this is more of a drabble basically nothing happens! I might write a bit more if people want)

“Good riddance. Finally she has gone.” Lemongrab 2 watched Princess Bubblegum leaving from the window. They remembered the last time they saw her before their death, a single pink plait winking out of sight over the black wall of a fortress. At first they’d hoped that maybe despite the apathy she’d always had towards them, she would come back and they would be saved. But days became weeks, and the weeks of darkness stretched out forever. They came to realise in their heart and soul that she would never value them enough to come back for them. To her they were just a toy like all her other creations, and a broken one at that. And broken toys got discarded.

Or fixed.

Lemongrab 2 looked down at their new body, turning their hands over and over, listening to the click of the metal joints as they did so. Their entire body was made of a shiny, silvery chrome metal that made all sorts of clacking and scraping sounds as they moved, and they could hear a faint whirring from inside their head, which had to be the sound of them thinking with a brain made out of cogs and wires. The only organic thing they had left was the soul stone in their chest.

They put a hand over the metal compartment it was kept in. The princess had taken their soul after it was released by death, and placed it in the stone. So now, they could inhabit this body she’d created for them.

“And what about brother’s soul-” they’d asked in a panic, “-is…is hee?” The thought of having to see him again was so frightening. He would be so angry at them… Lemongrab 1 had never wanted to die, and especially not at the hand of someone he viewed as miles beneath him. It had taken them a long time to realise it, but they’d never really been a person in his eyes. Just a plaything. And when his plaything didn’t do what he wanted, he did what any petulant child would do and smashed it into pieces.

“Your brother is gone.” She said it softly, as if she was breaking sad news to them. But they’d been overjoyed. He was gone! He’d never hurt them again! Gone! They were free! And then they had felt so, so awful for feeling that way. He was-had been, their brother. If it wasn’t for him, they wouldn’t even be alive. They’d never see his face, or hear his voice, or know if things would ever get better between them. They’d killed him. They were all alone now. It was nothing to be happy about.

They looked over at the figure sat completely still in a chair in the middle of the room. His back was to them, so they could only see the network of stitches going across his back.

“I suppose it is just the two of us, hm.” They squatted slightly in front of the slumped over, deadened lemon in front of them. His head was lolling over without any strength to hold it up, and his eyes were glazed, staring at them aimlessly. They cocked their head to the side with a robotic whirr and studied his face, searching his stitched together skin and sewn up lips for a flicker of familiarity, for the last person they wanted to see. But the only thing they saw was a reanimated corpse with no mind of its own. Or at least not yet.

“Mee…” the thing crooned to itself, “Wee… wee…” it let out a groan. “I. Hee… Iiii… Iii…”

“Tell me about it.” They muttered. So this was it then. They were stuck with babysitting yet another Lemongrab, as if that hadn’t gone terribly enough the last time.

They backed away from the listless figure. Yes. It had gone badly last time. But they weren’t going to let themselves get hurt this time.

“Lemonhope…” they didn’t take their eyes off the figure, “are you still there my precious?”

“Yes.” came a small voice from the doorway. Lemonhope’s cut had been bandaged by Finn, and the Princess had offered Lemonhope a chance to stay in the earldom as a champion. She wanted him to be a knight. She thought he was a hero. But they’d looked at him from the work table they were lying on and seen who Lemonhope really was: a very small boy who’d just killed his father.

He’d killed them too.

“Hope. Come here.”

Lemonhope didn’t budge. “What are you going to do to me?”

They turned to look at him. “I will not hurt thee… very well, stay where you are.” They crouched down in front of him and tried to smile, but the metal mouth didn’t obey them. It was frozen in an expression of permanent apathy. “You did what had to beee done. I know it was unpleasant, but we are all free now.”

Lemonhope didn’t look any happier. “You are free now.” They added.

“I will never be free.” said Lemonhope.

They didn’t disagree with him. “You can stay in the earldom as long as you want- not as a champion but as a lemon. I will not force pretenses on yoouu. And… as much as I long for you to stay, I suspect you do not share myyy desire.”

Lemonhope shook his head. “I don’t want to stay here. I want to have adventures and do stuff, I’ll come back when I’m bored. Which will probably be in a thousand years.” he shrugged.

They would have smiled if they could. “I see. But until then, your cut needs to be taken care of.”

“Yes. Is he going to stay like that forever?” Lemonhope asked. They glanced over their shoulder at the body and then looked back.

“The princess said his brain and body will reknit and he will be a whole lemon, not just two halves. But when that will be… I cannot say.” They also had no idea what kind of person would emerge from the merging of two minds and two memories. “I shall be the sole leader for now.”

It was an overwhelming thought. Their brother had never allowed them to handle the family finances and expenses - all the record books and bank letters were locked away in his room, and politically they never had a say in how he ran things. They were both earls on paper but in reality he was created in a special lab and engineered to be the heir of the candy kingdom, he’s actually briefly ruled over it, he had royal blood in his veins. They’d been created in a pantry and the only thing they had in their veins was lemonade. But now they had nothing at all, just wires. Could they really take his place?

Did they even want to?

They slid a hand under the other Lemongrab’s armpit and hoisted him to his paralysed feet. “Help me lead him to theeee guestroom.”

#lemongrab #my writing #adventure time #lemongrab 2 #lg2 event

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sluttyminghao · 3 years

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Part 1/?

✧ pairing: wen junhui x gender neutral!reader ✧ word count: 2k ✧ genre: smut ✧ warnings in this chapter: camboy!jun, masturbation, masturbating on camera, camboy!minghao makes an appearance ✧notes for this chapter: reader only makes an appearance at the end of the installment, i hope it makes sense as you read it! ✧ a/n: you asked, and i delivered! this is the first installment of going live! a series about camboy jun and his adventures! i hope you all enjoy, and if you would like to be added to a taglist pls inbox me! feedback is appreciated! ✧ synopsis: he’s a shy college boy who is stuck in financial difficulty, and his best friends gives him a suggestion that may or may not be a good idea.

A slight glance at the clock on his nightstand indicated that it was 10:49 pm, and he knew that within a matter of minutes he’d be doing the exact thing he said he would never do. His palms had grown sweaty and he felt his heart rate quicken at the thought, and all he could think to do was wipe his palms on his sweats. He remembers the conversation he had about his thoughts with Minghao vividly, even though it had happened months before his current situation.

“I just don’t see how you can do it, how do you not get embarrassed? Aren’t you being watched by...god knows how many people?” Junhui spoke between mouthfuls of ramen, immense heat rising in his cheeks at the nature of the conversation that had come up when talking about Junhui’s increasing level of financial difficulties. Minghao raised a brow at the older, before erupting into a fit of giggles and making Junhui cock one of his brows in confusion. Did he say something funny?

“Why would I be embarrassed about my livelihood?” Minghao began, wrapping some noodles around his chopsticks expertly and blowing them lightly to cool them down. “I make so much profit off of doing camming and making videos, that I’ve been able to pay my rent and amenities for the next six months, as well as keeping on top of all my art school debts,” he continued, an amused smirk finding its way onto his face at Junhui’s shocked facial features.

“Six months? That’s crazy... I’m basically living paycheck to paycheck at the minute,” he mumbled and let out a small sigh, picking at the small pieces of meat left within his ramen bowl with his chopsticks. “Well, that’s kinda what you get for working at a small and dingy diner run by a bunch of college students,” Minghao quipped while giving him a pointed look, letting his napkin fall to the table to signify he had finished his meal.

Junhui sighed. He knew Minghao was right, 99% of the time he generally was, but this was one thing he really didn’t want to admit to him. “But...would people recognise me? That’s one thing I really don’t want,” Junhui spoke shyly, and Minghao’s face softened towards his elder, before shaking his head slightly. “You can use blurring filters or wear items on your face so people won’t recognise you, that’s what I do, and no one knows who I am to this day.”

He thought a little more about it, and Minghao could practically see the cogs turning in his brain, deciding to offer a piece of advice to his struggling long-time friend. “Hey,” he spoke, gaining Junhui’s attention, “you should really think about it, especially if you need the money. With a face and a body like yours, I’m sure you’ll have thousands of subscribers in no time.”

Well, what did he have to lose? He sure didn’t have any shreds of dignity left, may as well give it a shot.

In all his years of living, he had been very well off financially, but in recent months his rent had become increasingly more expensive and the cost of living had jumped up exponentially. To his dismay, he found himself without a choice, needing the money as soon as possible so he would still have a roof over his head and the bare minimum of food.

He had been staring at the webpage for the camming website for the past 45 minutes, trying to hype himself up, but he had just become increasingly nervous as the time had passed. Minghao had explained to him countless times that this website was very reputable and a great starting point for beginners going into camming, and he knew that he could trust the words of his younger friend.

But even still, the nerves would not stop pouring over him, almost acting like a cascading effect, flowing down his back like a waterfall and seeping into every crevice of his body.

He sucked in a breath before exhaling shakily and picking up his phone to call Minghao. He knew that if anyone was able to calm his nerves, it would be his long-time friend. He tapped on Minghao’s contact before placing the phone to his ear, listening to the phone ring a few times before he was met with Minghao’s groggy voice.

“Were you sleeping?” Junhui’s voice is quiet as he speaks into the receiver, awaiting his companion’s response even though he was almost sure he knew the answer already. “No, I was out feeding the ducks, of course, I was sleeping,” Minghao sighed sarcastically, and Junhui suddenly felt a pang of guilt for the late-night call to his friend. “What did you need, ‘Hui?” Minghao continued, sleep laced in his voice.

“I’m sorry for waking you up...I’m so nervous...I don’t even know how to start the camming videos…do you have any...pointers, maybe...” Junhui trailed off, and he could hear Minghao hum from the other end of the phone. He remained silent for a few beats, only further amplifying Junhui’s nerves to the point where his leg had begun to bounce incessantly.

“I think you just need to relax a little, maybe have a drink or two to settle your nerves,” he replied smoothly, wanting to end the conversation so that he could get back to sleep. “If you’re really worried, why don’t you just show everything from the neck down when you’re recording?” He continued, waiting for his older friend’s reply.

Junhui was contemplating the options laid out to him and decided to combine both, deciding he didn’t have anything to lose. “Thanks, Hao, I owe you,” he rushed, hanging up and throwing his phone on his desk and standing up to get himself a bottle of alcohol. He assured himself that he was only going to have a few sips to loosen himself up, but he figured that he may need to down the whole bottle by the night’s end.

A few swigs of his precious alcohol later, and he had finally built up the courage to remove his shirt but left his sweats on as a safety measure. Minghao was right, the alcohol definitely loosened him up, and before he had even realised what he was doing, he had pressed the record button and had started his live stream.

He didn’t know what he was doing, not a single clue. His mind was fuzzy and his last shreds of dignity left him the moment his pants were pulled down and thrown haphazardly to the side. The only thought that was now running rampant through his mind was how much he wanted to cum. He wasn’t even focused on the live video anymore, only focused on his hardening cock and the way his hand wrapped around it.

Normally when he got himself off, he would take his time and relish in the sensations, not wanting to rush. In his nervous and alcohol-fueled state, however, he wasn’t going to beat around the bush like he would if he was sober. His hand moved up and down the length of his cock rapidly, small whimpers eliciting from the man’s lips as he pleasured himself.

Junhui could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge the faster he pumped his cock, but he knew he didn’t want to cum just yet. He slowed his hand significantly to a steady pace, almost feather-like touches, and moved his free hand up to flick at his nipple, sighing at the sensation.

Not that he would ever admit to anyone, but his nipples had always been extra sensitive and even just the slightest feather touch would have him reeling and wanting more.

The whines poured endlessly from his mouth, even as he built up his orgasm for a second time. He kept one hand on his cock, pumping up and down swiftly and gaining speed, while the other pinched at his nipples. It was getting harder for him to hold himself back, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer in the position he was in.

Before he could even think about stopping himself from cumming again, he felt the string snap in his abdomen and felt the hot streaks of white land on his stomach. He gasped at the feeling and let his hand continue to move steadily, letting the white streaks hit his chest. His head had grown fuzzy from the sheer intensity of his orgasm, and he could feel his hips lightly bucking up into his still closed fist.

When he was sure his orgasm had ebbed away, he removed his hand from his softening cock and sighed, leaning back in his computer chair. After a moment of stillness, his eyes widened upon seeing the small red recording dot on his computer, reminding him of the act he had just performed.

He clicked the stop button hurriedly and closed all his tabs before slamming the lid of his laptop shut. He couldn’t believe what he had just done; his mind was whirring with a thousand and one thoughts, his heart was about to leap right out of his chest, and he knew that there was no going back from the acts he had just performed.

He pushed himself out of the chair and headed towards his bathroom, showering in an attempt to get the cum off his body and somehow trying to scrub off the gross feeling he had from his lewd behaviour. It wouldn’t come off that easily, however, so all he could do was face the consequences of his actions and own them as Minghao told him to.

After a hot shower and a whole lot of contemplation later, Junhui knew that he would have to use his laptop again and see the damage that he had caused, so he decided to simply bite the bullet and take a look back at his video and see if anyone had commented or liked it. It didn’t seem likely in his opinion, since it was his first video and he had no subscribers, but there was a small glimmer of hope buried deep within him.

His eyes widened at the results in front of him. He truly could not believe the sight he saw when he clicked back on to his video to check for feedback.

200 new subscribers, 800 stars and 27 comments

He blinked rapidly, thinking it was all a hallucination. How could this be? He only sat in front of his computer for roughly 10 minutes jacking himself off and had garnered a huge response to it. He clicked the refresh button, thinking that it was simply a mistake on the website’s part. Surely he, a newbie to camming, did not just rack up over a thousand notifications from a ten-minute video.

When the page refreshed he saw the same notifications, except for one new comment that had caught his attention. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to look at just one comment and then head to bed, so he let his mouse hover over the little star-shaped notification icon and pressed on it. His eyes moved across the screen quickly, and he couldn’t help but feel the heat rise to his cheeks at the comment he had seen.

angelbaby96: you’ve got such a nice cock, and such pretty noises too. I would love to hear more of them sometime <3

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sleep-i-ness · 3 years

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Wrong Door (Sirius Black x reader)

Synopsis: Your roommate wakes you up in the middle of the night because she can’t get into the flat. Or so you think. (Muggle AU) FOR MY 500 WRITING CHALLENGE

A/N: do not follow what reader does in this in real life. IF SOMEBODY PASSES OUT DRUNK AND DOESN’T WAKE UP, CALL AN AMBULANCE (usa people i don’t know what you do. call an uber to the hospital?)

WARNINGS: Alcohol, really shitty first aid, swearing

BANG! Y/N bolted upright. Fuck, were they being burgled? She checked her watch, groaning at the time. It was 3 in the bloody morning and she had an 8am class. She swore lightly under her breath; she’d clearly fallen asleep while studying on the sofa, a textbook on her lap and an empty bottle of wine in her hand.

She wasn’t one for going out in middle of the week, unlike her roommate Marlene, so being woken up in the early hours of the morning was a common occurrence. Usually Marlene would just stumble back into the apartment, tripping over everything lying in her way. Tonight, she had clearly decided to break the fucking door down.

Y/N heard a key fiddling at the door, and she sighed. That was when the pounding on the door started. Time for her to go help Marlene out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she grumbled, extracting herself from the cocoon of sheets and cushions.

The banging didn’t lessen, and Y/N groaned as black patches clouded her vision momentarily. Mentally reminding herself to grab some water on the way back from the door, she trudged over to the hallway, propping herself against the wall for two seconds as she swayed slightly. Her fingers clasped around the latch and she pulled it, swinging the door open.

“You’re not Marlene.”

“You’re not James. Did he bring you over or something?” The brunette stranger rambled, pushing past her as he stumbled into the apartment. Y/N was too taken aback to protest at first, watching the man walk in as if he owned the place. “You can close the door, y’know. I didn’t bring back a girl this time because James said he’d literally kill me if I kept him up again. What a hypocrite.”

The man reached out to hang his jacket on an empty patch of wall, staring at it blankly when it fell onto the floor. He tried again, feeling for a hook that didn’t exist and Y/N watched him confusedly from where she stood by the still-open door.

“What on earth are you doing in my flat?” She found her voice at last; his audacity was astounding!

“Your flat? Love, just because James brought you over once doesn’t mean you can start claiming our stuff,” he seemed almost affronted, slurring his words as he let his jacket be on the floor.

“No, this is my flat that I share with my roommate Marlene. Who the fuck is James? And, more importantly, who the fuck are you?” Y/N had to admit, she was getting a little riled at this point. This drunk man had just waltzed in and begun claiming the place as if she didn’t exist.

The man opened his mouth to protest before taking a good long look at the coral walls and pictures that hung all over them. He closed his mouth, paused, and turned to look at the hall table with their tatty fringed lampshade and geometric-print table runner. Y/N could almost hear the cogs whirring in his brain as he stared bemusedly at the room.

“Fuck. This isn’t my flat. Where am I?” He seemed honestly and completely confounded, scrunching his face up.

“You’re near Kensington, we’re a few roads back from the high street and the market. This flat block is number 48-53?” Y/N gesticulated as she tried to explain where exactly her apartment lay.

She was too busy explaining to notice the queasy expression spreading across the man’s face. He shoved back past her to stick his head out her door and promptly throw up all over her front step. Disgusting. And she was going to have to clean it up! He swayed back and forth, before collapsing backwards, narrowly avoiding falling feet-first into a pile of his own vomit. Y/N contemplated just leaving him there and shutting the door on him. But she knew deep down she’d sorely regret it if any harm came to him because she refused to help him. It wasn’t the dodgiest of areas, but the nights were bitterly cold.

“Hey,” she tapped him on his shoulders, calling upon her memories of first aid and how to deal with a drunk person. He didn’t stir, even as her taps got harder and she decided to take her chances and slapped him straight across the face. She gasped as a red handprint bloomed on his cheek, yet he still didn’t wake up. Hand still stinging, Y/N grabbed his arms, heaving as she attempted to pull him inside. Managing to pull him into the living room, she gently rolled him into the recovery position, ensuring that he was still breathing and that he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. A dead man in her living room would be difficult to explain to her flatmate.

Y/N trudged to the kitchen, dragging her feet along as she pinched her eyelids to try and keep herself awake. She just needed to grab a glass of water to help with tomorrow’s inevitable hangover and a blanket for the drunkard. Somehow, she managed to complete the task, leaving her standing over the man now covered in her biggest blanket. She knew that she should go back to her room, but it just seemed so far, her legs protesting at the thought of moving an inch. Besides, the blanket was big enough to cover the two of them without having to even touch each other, right?

Sliding under the furthest corner, she quickly curled into a ball, eyes drifting shut before her head even touched the carpet.

Waking in the morning, Y/N nuzzled further into the broad arms wrapped around her, sighing as she breathed in the stale scent of cologne and whisky. Her head pounding as she tried to recall the events of the night before that had led to her in a man’s arms. She startled, bolting upright as she remembered the drunkard who had stumbled through her door. And now she was in his arms. Fuck.

Seeing the man afresh with sober eyes, Y/N stopped to appreciate that he was actually really fucking attractive. It didn’t excuse him trying to break into her flat, but it helped, now knowing she’d cuddled him all night. God, that was embarrassing. How was she ever supposed to explain to the guy on the floor or Marlene what had happened. Slipping out from under the blanket, she tiptoed into the kitchen and slumped against the counter.

Coffee, she needed coffee. Then she could think about what had happened and how to sort out the man passed out in the living room.

Y/N filled the kettle up and spooned out the coffee granules into the cafetiere, frowning when her hand came into contact with air rather than her favourite mug. Fuck. It was still dirty from last night, probably abandoned on the table with her textbooks.

Meanwhile, Sirius groaned as he twisted under his covers. God, his head was aching, and his back was incredibly sore. Remus was going to kill him if he’d pulled a muscle; he was meant to be helping him move on the weekend. His mattress was uncomfortably lumpy; he knew he needed to get a new one, but he’d been putting it off. The bobbly fabric scratched his skin as he stretched out, flexing his fingers.

Hang on. Bobbly fabric?

Sirius cracked an eye open, flinching at the bright light. As his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight streaming in, his heart rate picked up. This was not his apartment. He was pretty sure they didn’t have such awful, tasselled cushions or green lace curtains.

Did he-? He glanced down, releasing a sigh of relief when he noticed he was still fully dressed. Okay, so not that drunk. So how the hell did he end up here?

“Here.” A girl stood in the doorway, an unimpressed expression on her face as she offered him a steaming mug of black coffee. “I didn’t know how you liked it, but I have milk and sugar if you need.”

Sirius nodded, still trying to process how he’d got here. She stared at him, waiting for something. He quickly backtracked the conversation in his head. “Oh, no, I’m good, thanks.”

He sipped at the scalding liquid, face contorting into an expression of pain as it scorched his tongue. His eyes trailed over the girl, surely he’d remember someone this gorgeous. “So,” he winced, “how did I get here?”

She pursed her lips, as if she’d tasted something sour. Okay so that had been a bad question to ask.

“You barged into my apartment, claiming it was yours, threw up on my doorstep and then passed out.”

Oh fuck. His head spun as it tried to remember the events of the night before. He did recall somewhat throwing up, but it was a blurry flash. “Sorry about that.”

She hmphed, stacking some scattered sheets on the small coffee table and collecting up dirty crockery. Sirius swallowed the coffee, grimacing at the awkward atmosphere. Funnily enough his parents had never bothered to teach him the etiquette for accidentally bursting into the wrong flat and passing out.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out, glad he didn’t have to feel the pressure of breaking the silence anymore.

JAMES: Where are u?

JAMES: When I said don’t bring a girl back I didn’t mean go back to hers

JAMES: Ur boss called. I said you were feeling under the weather. He said u should get over ur hangover & get into work

REMUS: Why did ur boss call me to ask if we went out last night? I said no btw

JAMES: He called again; said he’d fire you if you didn’t turn up before 11. I told him u were properly ill and I could send him a pic of the thermometer. I think I got you out of that one

JAMES: Mate, I’m getting a bit worried

Shit. When was that last one from? Okay, 11:15 and it was now 11:34. Sirius tapped out a reply to James, unsure how much detail to go into. I’m alright, be back soon. Yeah, that would do. He really couldn’t deal the endless mocking yet, once they’d found out what had happened they’d never let it go. So that would be saved for when the pounding headache had finally settled down.

His phone binged again. JAMES: We’re out of milk can you grab some on the way back?

Sure.

Sirius got to his feet, groaning as the room spun, beige walls all blurring into one. Rubbing at his face, he stumbled towards the kitchen, empty mug in hand.

“Hey, sorry, I don’t know your name.” He leant against the door frame, body sagging. God he was exhausted.

“Y/N.” Her tone was bitter, and Sirius couldn’t help the pang of guilt shooting through him. She’d probably stayed up all night worried he’d attack her or steal something.

“Well, thanks for the coffee, Y/N, and for not leaving me on the doorstep. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

He placed the mug down on the counter and slung his leather jacket on. She smiled at him, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

Y/N trailed him to the door, holding onto it as he stepped out, raising a hand goodbye.

“Bye.”

“Thanks, bye.” Sirius watched the chipped door swing shut, sunlight glinting gold off the battered number on the door. Hm, Number 51.

Y/N groaned as the doorbell went. She’d just got settled into her studying. “Marlene, did you order something?”

“No. I’m broke.” Marlene yelled back, sticking her head out of her room. Her makeup was half done, mascara brush in hand and dress round her hips. “I can’t answer it like this!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’m on it.”

She tipped the papers onto the floor, ignoring the mess they made. Future her could tidy that up. Trudging to the door, she grabbed her phone off the table. So that was where she’d left it.

“Hi,” she nodded at the delivery guy. He was holding a large bunch of flowers and Y/N bit back a sigh her eyes. Probably from another of Marlene’s boys. Honestly, she was thinking of opening up a flower shop, considering the amount of flowers Marlene’s newest was insisting on sending.

“Hi, I’m looking for,” the delivery guy scanned the list on his clipboard, “Y/N?”

She froze. Huh. “Yeah, that’s me.”

He tucked the clipboard under his arm, passing her the flowers. “These are for you. There’s a card with it.”

“Thanks.”

Y/N shut the door, staring at the bunch of vivid blooms in confusion. Who on earth would have sent her these? She racked her brains for any possible romance in her life, but nothing came to mind. With her luck, it was probably her grandma or something. Not that she’d be upset by flowers from her nan but a mystery lover was much more interesting.

She pulled out the gilded card from where it was tucked into the side of the paper, scanning the words.

Sorry for breaking in and passing out in your flat, princess. Text me if you want to go for drinks at some point: +44 7xxx xxxxxx

A smile broke across her face. Maybe she’d take him up on his offer.

all hp tags: @missmulti @acciotwinz @1marvelavengers1 @samnblack @neymarlionelmessi7 @okkulta @gredandforge @onestela@yourenotafailureoverall @milkshakelol

sirius black tags: @holybatflapexpert @methamphetaminee @thefernandasantana @uglipotata72829 @cheapglitter @lozzybowe @persephonehemingway @blisfvlll @mads-bri @fific7 @electrasworld666 @ccosmic-illusion @anniewhoiam @20coldhearts @imcreepininyourheartbabe @whointhehellisbucky @isntmadrid @blackblossomqueen @wheezyreads @tugabooos @atomic-chickenwings @its-evita-here @inkandpen22 @Rue-123 @emilianamason @mesmerisedalien

#sirius x reader #sirius #sirius black x reader #sirius x you #sirius black #sirius x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius/reader #sirius black/reader #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era #marauders imagine #muggle au #sleep-i-ness500

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readerinsertfanfiction · 2 years

Note

Neeeeeeemoooooo! Im back! Eeeek🙌❤🔥🔥😳🌈🌌

Hehehe so i had another glance at your list hehehe! And could i pretty please with condensed milk ontop request 9. T9 codes - 143 = 521 = 459 (not that i have a single clue what this means pffft)❤❤🔥🔥🌟🌸 with L from death note😳😳😳🥺🥺🥺 (other fandoms were open right? RIGHT?) 😅😅😅😅😱😱😨

Sending ya alllll the gooood vibes neeeeemoooo! Thanks for letting me spam to take my mind off my meeting in a few hours! //is freaking out 🤣🤣🌸🌟🔥❤ //slides over some vla! Hope ya have the best day!❤🔥🌸 whoop whoooop❤🌈

Prompt 9 is for L! Happy two's Zeta! I kept your request for last on purpose just for this day!

Disclaimer: I'm slowly working through my inbox from the last time I had requests open.

Note: And with this I have emptied out my inbox. I'm still not planning on opening it for requests any time soon, but feel free to hit me up for a chat!

Fandom: Death Note

Character: L - Lawliet

Warning: Codes - can you figure out what they mean?

Word count: -1k.

Masterlist

That L had a peculiar way of talking was known. His brain moved too fast for his lips to form words as he would already be midway through an explanation while others were still progressing the background of the conversation. When he started that day with; “24 hours!” you hadn’t thought much more of it than just another lapse in which L was L and his brain had reached a conclusion before he could ask the question.

“Yes, like a full day,” you had told the male in a bemused tone, pouring in his tea and adding in the sugars just as he liked. Getting the infamous detective, and notorious work-a-holic to catch a break was a feat, trying to understand the man felt like a code even the infamous Sherlock wasn’t about to crack.

“Yes, like a full day, and seven days straight,” L mumbled, falling into silence once more when he chewed on the top of his thumb, the nail there already destroyed and you wondered what particular hard case he was sitting on that had the man so anxious.

“A full day and everything comes in pairs,” he continued, wide eyes turning towards you, as if only taking you in for the first time that day. “Always in pairs,” L repeated and you wondered if the case was like Bonnie and Clyde, performed by an elusive duo that managed to elude L. It was hard to say with the way he stared at you, unblinkingly as you could see the cogs in his brain whirring at full speed, unable to utter anything dumbed down enough for the common mass to understand.

“Four, five and nine,” you could hear the male say later, and you wondered if he was doing basic maths or if it was just a string of numbers, “eight, three, one,” he would follow it up, clicking his tongue as he shook his head.

“Everything comes in pairs, two’s,” he repeated the statement once more, before absentmindedly taking the cake that you offered him while he continued to zone out in deep concentration.

This wasn’t going to do, you found. L had been stuck in the same post for such a while now, even Watari was starting to get worried. Approaching you tapped him on the shoulder, once, twice, three times…

“One, four, three, two!” he exclaimed, and then turned to you, wide eyes set a little wider and a bit crazed as you in turn stared at him in a daze, not quite understanding the exclamation.

Or perhaps you did, slowly piecing together the peculiar speech and his behaviour in overall. The numbers did all hold one thing in common after all. As outdated as they may have been, or obscure they were at the current.

“24 hours, seven days a week,” L repeated, a smile spreading across his features in that innocent childlike way that made you forget that you were dealing with a genius of the deranged sort. What he had meant with that you didn’t quite figure, but you did understand one thing;

“Yours; 24 hours a day, seven days a week,” you repeated, to which L smiled a little wider, glad to be understood.

459 - The T9 (numberpad) code for ILY 831 - Eight letters three words 143 - I Love You 24 hours a day, seven days a week - From 'Night in the Woods'

#death note #death note l #death note x reader #l lawliet #l lawliet x reader

38 notes · View notes

cleoooelizabeth · 3 years

Text

Spot Me?

Chris Evans x Black Femme Reader

Warning: smut, language, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it my lil sluts).

Word count: 5760-ish

Synopsis: You plan to go to the gym with your friend, they don’t show up so you need someone to spot you whilst using the heavier weights. All the men in the gym are vile (no surprise there lmao) and have been staring since you arrived. You decide the best person to ask is the one person that hasn’t been watching you like a creep, you didn’t realise who it was until you tap him on the shoulder and he turns to face you… (this boutta make your coochie throb).

---

You sigh dramatically, throwing your head back. “For fucks sake.” You mumble to yourself.

Your friend was supposed to meet you outside the gym in your apartment building 20 minutes ago. After realising she was bailing on you, you decide to work out anyway, needing a good sweat to wash away the stress of working a 9-hour shift. Sitting behind a desk for that long, surrounded by a bunch of old white men can’t be good for anyone. The only reason you became an accountant was because the pay cheque was a beautiful sight at the end of every month, and it allowed you to live in a bougie apartment building, far away from your toxic family.

After readjusting your duffle bag on your shoulder, you fix your mask and stroll into the gym and straight to the women’s locker room. You tap your personal digits into a small key pad on the locker closest to the floor-to-ceiling mirror that spanned one wall of the room. The locker sprung open allowing you to shove your bag into it after retrieving your water bottle, airpods and phone. You whip off the hoodie you had been wearing, throwing it on top of your bag and closing the locker, making sure you heard the whirring sound of the locks sliding home.

Before you leave the locker room, you check yourself in the mirror, adjusting your plain white sports bra and tight black Nike shorts. No one needed to see the shape of your vagina in 4K.

You decide to start with a 10-minute stretching session, you didn’t want to pull any muscles or cramp up during the rest of your work out. You could feel dozens of eyes on you as you walked through the gym into the far-right corner. You place your belongings on the floor and pull a matt out. Sitting on it, you grab your phone and scroll through your Spotify until you find your work-out playlist. With “Mo Money Mo Problems”, by The Notorious B.I.G, playing through your ears, you get up and begin your stretching routine. Reaching up as far as you can, you keep your back straight and bend at the hips until your finger tips touch your toes. You stay in that position for a second, swaying side to side softly to feel that slight burn in the backs of your thighs and calves. You stand back up, pushing your braids back over your shoulders and out of your way before you finish stretching.

After 10 minutes, your body felt warmer and ready for more challenging activities. You spray the matt and wipe it clean before returning it to its rightful place. Grabbing your belongings, you move back into the centre of the gym, finding the weight machines.

“Fucking hell.” You whisper to yourself. Realising you had no one there to spot you on the machines. I’m gonna kill her later. You thought to yourself about your flaky friend. You weren’t trying to get yourself into a position where you couldn’t lift the weight, ultimately ending in your neck being crushed, so you look around the gym for a free staff member. Finding no one around, other than the creepy men that had been staring at you like starved animals, you keep looking and you see one man a couple machines over from you, wiping his forehead with a small towel and taking a swig of some refreshing looking water.

Building up your courage for a second you decide he is the best option because he was clearly the only man in the room with even a modicum of self-control. After pausing your music, you walk over to him and tap one manicured finger on his shoulder.

He turns around, his black mask covering everything but two beautiful blue eyes, I recognise those eyes,you ponder.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you.”

“No, problem. What can I do for you?” He replies, his eyes crinkling slightly, letting you know he was smiling behind his mask.

“Ok, so basically, my friend was supposed to come here with me as we usually spot each other when using the weights. But she is a lazy fuck and didn’t show up.” You giggle.

“Right, and you need me for that?” He said, attempting to decipher what you had said.

“Well… You’re the only person in here that hasn’t been staring at my ass so I thought you would be the best candidate.” You say bluntly.

He had definitely been looking, he just wasn’t so blatantly obvious about it.

“Fair enough.” He laughs. “So, where do you want to start?”

“I usually start with the bench press, if you don’t mind.” You say to him, already walking towards it.

He follows you, eyes on your soft, slightly curvy figure as he pushes his phone and headphones into his pocket.

You place all of your things on the floor next to machine and lay back on the bench, one leg each side. Your new work-out partner dropped his belongings next to yours and moved to stand behind the machine, the front of his thighs lightly brushing the crown of your head.

“Since I’ll be relying on you to not let the weight crush me to death, I think I should probably get your name.” You giggle, looking up at him, his face upside down to you.

“That makes sense.” He laughs with you, his right hand grabbing his left pectoral muscle.

“The names Chris, and you?” He asks. You don’t reply immediately, the cogs in your brain turning until something clicks. The bright blue eyes, the laugh, the voice, the titty slap… You knew who it was.

“I’m Y/N. But Chris… as in Chris Evans?” You ask, just to confirm your suspicion, even though you were already 100% sure.

“Uhh, yes actually. What gave it away? I thought this mask and hat would be enough of a disguise.”

“Well, I was already suspicious after I tapped you earlier, but that titty slap sealed the deal my friend.” You laugh together.

“Darn it. I didn’t realise I was known for that. So, are you a fan?” He questions.

You adjust the weight on the machine to an acceptable number before laying back down and returning your brown eyes to his blue ones.

“I mean, I’ve seen a few of your movies and a couple of interviews.” You lie, knowing full well that you had seen almost all of his movies and as many interviews as you could find on YouTube.

“Oh! Congratulations on getting ASP sorted out, it’s a very admirable project.” You mention.

“Thank you very much, I’m very proud of the work we’ve done so far.”

You grab the weight, securing your hands around the bar and lift before bringing it down to your chest and back up. Chris watches you, mesmerised by your strength. He couldn’t figure out how you could lift so well, not seeing any visible muscle in your arms. He shook his head slightly to bring himself back to reality. He refocussed his attention on you, placing his hands under the bar but not lifting any of the weight for you.

After a few reps, you could feel your blood pumping and a small amount of sweat collecting in your hairline and on your cleavage, making your brown skin shimmer under the florescent lighting.

Chris takes the weight from you, and places it back on its hooks above your head.

“Thank you.” You say as you reach for your water bottle. As you take a sip, the condensation from the bottle drips onto your chest, slowly making its way between your breasts and out of sight. Your eyes wander to Chris again, his eyes already on you, or more specifically on your cleavage. You slowly move the bottle away from your mouth and lick the remaining water from your lips.

“Like what you see?” You whisper seductively. You had no idea where this burst of confidence had come from.

Chris clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” You reply, keeping your eyes locked on his, wanting desperately to see the rest of his face.

“So… you live here right?” Chris questions, pulling his eyes from yours in an attempt to take the tension out of the atmosphere that you’d both created.

You drop the bottle on the floor and lift your long braids from your neck, the fresh breeze from the air conditioning providing relief for your heated body.

“Yeah, 8th floor. I’ve never seen you here before though, did you move recently?” You ask him.

“Yeah, I’m on the 10thfloor. It’s just temporary though, it’s closest to the set of this tv show I’m working on.”

You want to spend more time with him, enjoying his presence immensely. What could I possibly say though without sounding like a creepy fan?

“Oh cool… Would you want to have dinner with me? I- uh, have extra food and I won’t be able to finish it all myself anyway. I was tested for covid today at work, negative. Just to clarify” You shy away from his eye contact slightly, nervous of his reply.

“Absolutely.”

“Really?... I thought it would take a little more convincing to be honest.” You say before standing and moving to the next machine.

He laughs a little and follows you, eyes on your ass. “Well, I have nothing to do after this, and I have a bottle of wine in my apartment that looks very tempting and I don’t want to end up drinking it all by myself.”

“I’d be more than happy to help you with that.” You joke with him.

30 minutes later, your session was complete. The both of you laughing and talking the entire time. Your abs had received more of a workout just from cackling at his ridiculous dad jokes.

“I’m just going to grab my stuff from the locker room. Should I meet you at my apartment?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll be 20 minutes tops… I kinda stink so a shower is a must right now.”

“Yeah, you do sorta stink.” You pinch your nose and laugh at his expense.

“Wow. You’re so mean.” He says with feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically.

“It’s ok, I stink too.” You laugh together.

“Ok, I guess I’ll see you soon…”

“Yeah, you will…” You wink and disappear into the locker room. But not before you see him adjust himself in his sweatpants.

20 minutes later, you were in your apartment after a steamy shower, and a quick shave. I mean, you weren’t expecting things to progress further than a potential make-out session, but you never know and you didn’t want to have to turn him down because you were too lazy to shave your cooter. You decide on grey pyjama shorts and a fitted white Henley top, not wanting it to look like you were trying really hard. Fortunately for you, as Chris should be there any minute, your skin had been cooperating recently so just a dash of mascara and some lip balm will do. Just as you were finishing, you hear a soft (but firm) knock on your front door.

Calm down, Y/N. You say to yourself whilst fanning your face and pulling your braids into a high ponytail to keep them off your clammy neck. You do a little jog to the door, opening it to a freshly showered Chris. Now, without his mask, you could see his whole face. His full beard and chiselled jaw-line was waking the butterflies in your stomach.

You attempt to hide your attraction, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You were being dramatic; he was only wearing a plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

He pulls a bottle of red wine from behind his back. “May I come in?” His eyes flickering to your braless breasts, your nipples stiffening slightly as a slight breeze blew through the open door.

You bite your lip and step to the side, allowing him to fit his large body through the doorway.

Closing the door behind him, you move to stand next to him in the hallway. You clear your throat and play with your hands a little. “Um, the living room is this way.” He kicks off his trainers and follows closely behind you. Observing your apartment on the way.

You lead him to the sofa and he sits after placing the bottle on the coffee table.

“I’m gonna grab the bottle opener and a couple glasses… back in a sec.” He gives you a small smile, relaxing into the plush sofa cushions.

Once inside the kitchen, you rush to the sink and grab a paper towel to dab some cold water on your neck. This man has done nothing but exist and you’re already over-heating like a horny teenager. You throw the paper towel in the rubbish and move to the cupboard to pull the glasses out, leaning up on the tips of your toes, you still struggle to reach. As the tips of your fingers brush the stem of the glass, a much larger hand reaches over your head and retrieves the glasses with no effort. You freeze as his chest barely brushes your back. Keeping your back to him, he places the two glasses on the surface to your right.

“Thank you…” Your voice gets lost in your throat, coming out as a whisper, your hands grasping the edge of the surface.

“No problem.” He murmurs, his lips only just coming into contact with the shell of your ear, a shiver racking its way down your spine.

And just like that, he moves away. “You coming?” He asks, walking back to the sofa, acting as though he doesn’t know that he just made you cream your panties.

“Yeah, one second.” You reply, moving to grab the bottle opener before following him to the living room. You could feel his eyes on you as you sit next to him. God, he must be able to feel the heat radiating off of you. You pass him the bottle opener, doing your best to act normal. All that confidence you had in the gym was long gone, replaced with intense arousal.

He grabs the bottle from the table and pulls off the outer wrapping before pushing the screw into the cork. You watch as his bicep muscles flex. You didn’t realise you were staring until you heard the popping sound of the cork exiting the bottle. You avert your eyes and grasp a glass in each hand, allowing him to half-fill the glasses. You pass one to him and settle into the sofa, taking a sip of your own. Your eyelashes flutter as the red liquid hits your tongue.

“God damn, that is good shit.” He laughs out loud at your sudden statement.

“I’m glad you like it.”

You fall into a comfortable silence as you each enjoy the beverage, glancing at each other, then averting your eyes when caught.

“Oh, I forgot, we were supposed to eat!” You jump up from the sofa.

Before you can get any further, you feel his hand close around your wrist, turning you around to face him. He puts your glasses on the coffee table and pulls you to stand between his legs.

“There’s only one thing I want to eat right now, Y/N.” He mumbles against your stomach, glancing up at you through his long eyelashes.

“What are you trying to do to me, Chris?” You sigh, your head rolling back onto your shoulders. He smirks as he pushes his fingers under the hem of your Henley. His thumbs massage your waist as he places soft kisses across a strip of your exposed belly. Your hands grip his shoulders as your legs began to feel weak, although you know his strong hands holding your waist would be enough to keep you from falling.

“I’m trying to seduce you, can’t you tell?” He says, the smirk still gracing his features.

“Well, you succeeded. Now what?”

He looks up at you, his hands moving to the backs of your thighs before pulling you to straddle his lap.

“Fuck.” You whimper as his semi-hard appendage pushes against your clit.

One of his hands holds onto the back of your neck, while the other arm wraps itself tightly around your lower back. He pulls you down by your neck, your lips slotting comfortably over his plush bottom lip. You gasp softly as his tongue brushes against your top lip, asking for entrance, which you allow instantly. At this point, he could do whatever he wanted with you and you’d be more than happy to oblige.

You wrap your arms around his neck and push your chest against his, wanting to be as close to him as possible in that moment. The hand that he had around your waist travelled downwards until it reached your ass, pushing it down as his hips snapped up.

“Ugh- fuck Chris!” You moan into his mouth.

He hums against your lips as he continues grinding your lower halves together.

“Is this ok with you, baby? Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop if we keep going.” He jokes.

“God- this is more than ok.” You moan, your hips frantically chasing release. Dry humping like a couple of horny teenagers. A soft warmth was building in your lower stomach, and your legs were tingling.

“Chris, you’re gonna make me come…” You gasp, kissing him passionately and squeezing your thighs against his as the heat of your orgasm spreads from your core to the very tips of your limbs.

“That’s it, honey. Use me.” He mumbles against your neck before sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh, still using his hand to push your hips against his own to prolong your release.

His head rolls back onto the back of the sofa for a second, his release not far behind yours.

“I want you to fuck me, Chris.” You whisper, taking the opportunity to suck at the side of his neck, just like how he did to you moments ago.

“God damn, you’re amazing.” He sighs, basking in the pleasure he was receiving as you continued to bite at his neck and gently roll your clothed pussy against his now fully erect dick.

The next thing you know, you’re on your back, pressed between the sofa and Chris.

He looks into your eyes for a moment, you shrink slightly under his gaze, covering your face with your hands. He pulls your hands away, pinning them to the sofa beside your head with his own.

“Don’t hide from me, baby.”

“Ok.” You whisper.

Chris sloppily presses his lips to yours before pulling your top up and over your head, throwing it behind him. Your shorts suffered the same fate.

“Fucking perfect.” He says it so quietly, you had almost missed it. His large hands wander all over your torso, from your collar bone to your slightly curved hips. When he reaches your calves, he pushes them up until your knees are brushing against your nipples.

He moves down, holding your legs up and open from the backs of your thighs, finger tips digging into the skin there. A puff of air you didn’t know you were holding escapes your lungs when you feel his lips kiss your pussy softly through the thin material of your panties. His eyes lock onto yours as his fingers pull your panties to the side, making sure he didn’t see any signs that you were uncomfortable. When he saw the lust in your eyes, your pupils blown wide, he flattens his tongue, swiping from your hole all the way to the hood of your clit, giving it 3 rapid flicks with his tongue. You moan louder than you were expecting, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and toes curling at the feeling. He smirks against your pussy as he continues his ministrations. One of his hands leaves your thigh, allowing you to relax the muscle there as it lowers onto his shoulder. Your back arches into the other leg that was still up as he presses his thick middle finger into your weeping hole, whilst sucking softly at your clit to distract you from any discomfort.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby. Squeezing me so good, and it’s only one finger. I can’t wait to feel you gripping my cock.” God, you’d never have expected THE Captain America to have such a filthy mouth, and yet here he was driving you insane with his dirty words.

Your body is thrashing around on the sofa. The sensation of his finger thrusting into you and curling up to meet that special place inside you, sending you off the deep end. His tongue was on its own mission, flicking as fast as it could against your swollen clit.

“I’m c- FUCK! I’m coming, Chris. Please, d-don’t stop.”

He increases the speed of both his finger and his tongue, watching as you fall apart underneath him. Your hands rush to roughly pinch at your nipples as you squirt into his mouth, whimpering and moaning louder than ever, your thighs shaking around his head and toes digging into his plump ass cheeks as your back arches. He slowly removes his finger, giving your over-sensitive clit a few more soft licks, sending shocks through you.

He drops your thighs from his shoulders, and removes your soaked panties, dropping them to the floor. Moving up to return his lips to yours, you could taste yourself on his lips and on his tongue, drawing a hum from deep within your chest.

“Such a good girl, coming like that for me. Have you ever squirted before, baby?” He questions, licking at your juicy bottom lip.

“Uh uh.” You say, unable to form full sentences. He’d fucked you stupid with only his tongue and finger, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what he could do with his cock.

“Look at you, honey. You can’t even speak. What did I do to you, huh?” He rasps, his voice deep and husky. He stands up, removing his clothing so you wouldn’t be the only one completely exposed and places himself back between your welcoming thighs, holding himself up with his elbows on either side of your head. You look down, admiring his size. You shivered slightly when you thought about the fact that you’d never had a cock of that girth inside you before.

“I think you broke me.” You reply, a nervous smile on your lips as you snap back to reality, and wrap your arms around his neck, your hands pushing into his soft hair.

“I’ve only just begun, baby.” He whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

With that you squeal as he wraps his arms beneath you, his now bare cock softly rubbing against your sensitive pussy. He lifts you as he moves to sit back against the sofa, pulling you into his lap, the same position you had started in.

His lips find yours immediately, you whimper into his mouth as he leaves soft scratches from your shoulders down to the small of your back, your arms hanging idly around his neck. A low growl leaves his mouth as you rut your hips against his, your pussy soaking him as you did so. You whine as the tip of his cock catches on your dripping hole

“I need you inside me.” You say, finding it hard not to just slam your hips down and let his cock penetrate you then and there.

“I don’t think you understand how much I wanted those words to come out of your mouth.”

“Do you have a condom?” You ask him, your hands holding his neck when his hands grip your hips softly.

“Fuck.” He curses himself for not being more prepared.

“I have the implant, if you’re ok with that. I was tested recently and I assure you, I don’t want to be impregnated any time soon. Also, if you give me an STI, I know where you live.” You threaten him with a giggle to let him know you weren’t completely serious.

“I have a feeling I’ll pass out if I leave here without fucking you so… fuck it.” He states, desperation obvious in his blue eyes.

“I don’t think you understand how much I wanted those words to come out of your mouth.” A deep chuckle leaves him when he realises you had plagiarised his own words from before.

“I love your laugh.” You say, before softly pecking his lips. Before you can move away, his lips press against yours as his hands move to your ass, lifting you from his lap. His leaking tip once again pressing against your opening.

He looks down to watch as he pulls you down slowly, inching inside you. Your eyes rolling back as he stretched you so good, and he wasn’t even half way in.

“Fucking shit, you’re so god damn tight and wet, baby.” He groans, his head falling back against the sofa.

You became impatient, he was moving too fucking slow. You let him thrust the first few inches of his cock in and out a few times to allow yourself to adjust to his far above-average size. You move his hands from your ass, holding them on your breasts as you slam your hips down the rest of the way. A shout is ripped from both of your throats at the feeling of immense pleasure, your toes curling as the tip of his cock had hit your cervix.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He says, half laughing and half moaning, both of you breathing heavily.

You felt butterflies in your stomach, proud that you could pleasure him.

“Shut up and fuck me.” You whisper into his ear, licking his earlobe and placing your hands on his pecs.

You watch as his pupils dilate, your foreheads pressed together, lust taking over both of you.

You feel him reposition his feet on the floor and his arms wrap securely around your back before he pulls you tight against his chest. He pulls his cock out until only the tip was left inside and brings you down onto him as hips thrust up.

“FUCK!” You scream. You struggled against him, wanting to grip onto something but your hands were stuck between your chests, his hips strong and unrelenting.

Your head rolled from his forehead until it landed on his shoulder, your neck unable to hold the weight as he continued to fuck you into the next decade. He looked down at your lolling head, your mouth open and eyes rolled back, soft moans leaving your lips.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks, a smirk on his face. He knew you couldn’t reply, and he knew how good he was making you feel, your body completely soft against his as any ounce of strength left you. He didn’t stop, he wanted to ruin you. He wanted to make sure you’d never want another man again. At some point during your time together, he realised he wanted this to be more than just a fuck and duck. He wanted to take you on a real date, spend time with you and get to know your personality, not just your body.

Your eyelashes fluttered and your nails dug into his chest to ground yourself when you regained your strength, skin slapping against skin was the only sound that could be heard. That and your own heart beat pounding in your ears.

“There’s those pretty brown eyes.” He says as he kisses you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and releases it with a pop.

“You’re so d-deep. You feel so g-gooood.” You slur, surprised you could even speak.

“I know, baby. You gotta sit up though, let me play with that pretty little clit so I can make you come around my cock.” He says, slowing his hips but still hitting you deep.

He helps you sit up straight on his lap, his hips never ceasing.

“Hold onto my shoulders, honey.” You do as he says, still not fully lucid.

His hands move to your hips, moving you back and forth. You caught on and continued moving as one of his hands released your hip and moved between your bodies. Your back arched when his rough fingers came into contact with your clit, rubbing small circles against the most sensitive point.

“Fuck, Chris. You’re so fucking good.” You moan as you felt your orgasm approaching. You mustered up the little strength you had, holding onto the back of the sofa, you pushed your breasts against his chest and began bouncing your ass hard and fast on his cock.

His eyes closed in pleasure but his magical fingers never stopped their ministrations against the swollen bud between your legs. You felt a little bit competitive at this point, after he had basically made you pass out. You wanted to make him come first. You sat up straight before standing up, his cock leaving you. His eyes snapped open at this. Before he could comprehend what was happening, you were back on his lap but this time, your back was facing his front.

Once you had gotten comfortable, you lifted your hips to line up his cock with your pussy. Chris puts his hands behind his head, relaxing as you dropped your hips down, his cock slipping in easily.

You placed your hands on his knees, using them as leverage as you bounced your ass over his cock. You gasped when one his hands made impact with your ass cheek.

“Just because you’re on top, doesn’t mean you’re in charge, Y/N.” The dominant tone of his voice made you whimper, but your determination to make him come first hadn’t wavered.

You squealed when his hands lifted you up and off of him entirely and stood you up on the floor.

“On the floor, baby. Ass up.” You couldn’t figure out what it was about him, but you wanted to do anything and everything he told you to do. So, there you were, on your hands and knees. Back arched and ass up, pussy fully exposed to him.

“Such a good girl.” You had no idea he was behind you until he spoke. His tongue swiping up the juices that had leaked from your sensitive pussy. “How is this pussy so sweet, baby?”

Before you could reply, he had slammed his cock inside you up to the hilt, his balls tapping your clit. You did your best to keep yourself in an upright position, your elbows stuttering against your weight and the force of his thrusts. Chris notices your struggle and uses his hand to put pressure between your shoulder blades, forcing your upper body and face to press against the soft carpet beneath you. He follows you down, trailing damp kisses across your back and shoulders, anywhere he could reach. Your legs now spread, he uses one hand to hold both of yours above your head, whilst the other attacked your pulsing clit.

“That’s it, baby, come for me.” He groans against your neck, feeling your pussy clenching and releasing continuously around his cock. The sensation of his balls tapping your pussy consistently, your sweat covered bodies gliding against each other, his fingers flicking, pulling and rubbing against your clit had you seeing stars.

“Fuuuuuuck! Chris, I’m coming!” You cried out, pushing back against him.

“Yes, honey. Come for me. Only me. Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

“Ughhh. You, only you, Chris. F-fuck, only you!”

The next thing you know, he’s pinching your clit between his forefinger and thumb, the shock was felt from head to toe.

“Fuck, there it is, honey.” He moans, still gently rubbing at you to ensure you had gotten the most of your orgasm.

You collapse beneath him as he grabs your ass cheeks with both hands and continues fucking you into the carpet, chasing his own release. 1, 2, 3 more thrusts and he was exploding inside you. The warmth of his come painting your walls had you whimpering in relief.

“Oh shiiiit. You’re so fucking good for me. Taking me so well, honey.”

He pulls out of you, stroking your back as he reaches over to the coffee table, grabbing the box of tissues to clean mixture of your juices leaking out of your hole. Once he was satisfied that you were clean, he rolled you over and picked you up from beneath your shoulders and the backs of your knees, lifting you until he was standing.

“Point me to the bedroom, baby.” You pointed in a general direction, still delirious after your powerful orgasm.

He pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, before walking across the room and laying you down on the bed. He tucked you in under the covers and gently stroked your sweaty forehead. Just as he was about to walk away, he felt a dainty hand wrap around his wrist.

“Stay. Please?” You asked him, your brown eyes searing into him. How could he possibly resist you when you looked at him like that, lips slightly pouted and nose scrunched up.

He thinks about it for a second before walking around the bed and getting under the covers on the other side.

You roll over, your right leg over his hip and right arm across his chest. He wrapped both of his arms around you as he felt your steady breath against his neck, letting him know you had fallen asleep. He had never felt more at peace than he did in that moment, knowing he was going to keep you for as long as you’d have him.

---

Thank you so much for reading, please like and reblog and don't be afraid to comment your opinions 🥰 lots of love 💖

I give no permission for this work, or any of my other works/writing to be translated or reposted anywhere. Reblog from the original post only please.

#chris evans #captain america #steve rogers #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #christopher jamal evans #black reader #chris evans smut #chris evans x black reader #marvel smut #marvel #steve rogers x black!reader #chris evans x black!reader #woc fanfiction #woc writers #woc reader #chris evans fanfiction #18+#smut

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thevampirearcher-md · 3 years

Text

something med school didn't cover - accurate (#3) 🩺

they're getting to know each other, my two dears

also on ao3

Evenings bring a certain kind of peace to a paediatrics ward - there’s the muffled steady beeps from the ICU beyond the glass door at the end of the hallway, there’s the faint sounds of televisions and children’s music drifting out from beneath room doors, there’s the occasional squeal of joy or screech of hunger of the younger inpatients, but wards are peaceful in the evenings. Activity winds down to the point where Denali feels relaxed enough to go back to the locker-room for the book she’s brought along.

Twenty-four hour shifts are ideal occasions to read - or do crosswords, if you’re her mother. But to Denali, reading is the perfect activity to keep her brain awake and occupied enough not to think about the late hour or the silence she’s been plunged into.

“Hey!”

The voice startles her - a sound that doesn’t belong in the evening atmosphere of the ward. It’s coming from the doctor’s lounge, the room whose lights she had just turned off. She’d thought it deserted - the attending on call had locked himself in the office and the resident on call was downstairs in the emergency room, ready to tackle all the cases that would be walking in. She thought she’d be economical.

She pushes the door to reveal a sight she didn’t think she’d be faced with: doctor McCorkell sitting at one of the desks, with her hair down around her shoulders and a pained expression on her face. Spread out in front of her are two charts - one brand new and blank and another one that has carefully been stuck together with clear tape.

“Why are you still here?” Denali’s brow furrows.

Rosé only huffs, gesturing to the messy pile in front of her. Seeming defeated, she stands, walking over to the coffee machine. Its sound startles the calm atmosphere of the evening. It takes a long while for it to warm up, whirring and sputtering in the silence. Rosé’s pink mug is already filling up by the time Denali realises the silence almost borders on weird.

“I don't get it,” she’s still rooted to her spot in the doorframe, so she takes a step into the room, leaving her book on the couch near the door.

“Professor Visage has torn another one of my charts,” Rosé shrugs, sipping her coffee.

“Another one?” Denali’s eyebrow rises.

“At least, this one she tore in the hallway, I’ll call that improvement,” Rosé jokes.

“Over what?”

Denali knows about Professor Visage’s habit of tearing apart charts that don't follow her guidelines, but she didn’t think it could happen to doctor McCorkell of all people. It is an unspoken agreement among the attentings on the ward that she is the best intern of her generation.

“Tearing them in the room next to the mothers?” she throws herself back into the chair and scans the papers again.

“When did this happen?”

Rosé breathes out a startled chuckle. “Today?” It’s her turn to quirk her eyebrows at the woman in front of her. “I really don't want to know what would happen if I took my time to redo them.”

“Wait…” Denali breathes out as the cogs in her mind turn. “This is not the first time that this happens?”

“Nurse Foxx,” Rosé begins, only to be interrupted.

“Denali,” she corrects automatically, even though none of the other interns will get to call her that for a good long while. Not even some of the upper-level residents call her by her name.

“Fine, Denali, don’t tell me you haven't noticed it,” Rosé laughs. The way she says her name is careful, slow, steady and rounding out every syllable. A complete contrast from the rest of her sentence, playful and teasing.

Denali’s pause is more than answer enough for Rosé, who smiles. “I would have hoped you were paying more attention to me, but I guess now I know,” she sips her coffee again, focusing back on the work she still has to do.

“It’s just that I never would have expected it to happen to you, Doctor McCorkell,” her lips move of their own accord, drawing the ginger’s attention back to her, and her legs move of their own accord, bringing her closer to the desk she has claimed.

The ginger’s eyes narrow. “Rosé, please. I stop being doctor McCorkell,” her face scrunches up at the name, “as soon as I clock out.”

“We’re still working,” Denali reminds her.

“No,” the ginger shakes her head, momentarily drawing Denali’s attention to her luscious curls, which she has let flow free of her usual bun. “You’re still working, I’ve been off for…” she turns her wrist to check her watch. “the last four hours,” she smirks.

Denali nods. “Fine, I didn’t expect it to happen to you, Rosé.”

“Oh, but it does… almost every week,” another shrug, as if it doesn't even bother her anymore. “Usually, though I would have figured it out by now and crawled back home to my bed and my Nelson,” she explains and Denali’s brain starts to piece it together - Rosé out of scrubs and in pyjamas, Rosé in a bed, Rosé reading a paediatrics book before bed.

“Need any help?”

Professor Visage is a particular person - someone who wants things done a certain way, who corrects people and gives out advice to improve everyone. She holds the people who work with her - attendings, residents, even nurses - to the same high standard that she holds herself. They’re working in one of the best paediatrics wards in the country because of it.

But it does sometimes scare away the interns.

“Would you?” Rosé’s eyes light up. “I don’t think I can stand to look at it much more,” she deflates. “And I’ve assured Doctor Luzon that I wouldn’t need her help, so now I’m embarrassed to call her,” she runs her hand through her hair, straightening it out to its full lenght and Denali refuses to be mesmerised by its colour.

Denali laughs, stretching over the table. She notices, sneakily out of the corner of her eye, how Rosé’s body slightly tenses up at the sudden closeness, but she smirks - a tiny pull of her lips, too small for the doctor to see it. Her hands grip the torn chart as she finds a spot to perch on the corner of the desk.

“Got a red pen?”

Rosé’s eyes narrow. “Aren’t you funny?” Her lips clamp shut as she bites back the ‘baby’ that she tends to sneak into almost every sentence that she says. Still, it’s too familiar a term. It would bring Nurse Foxx uncomfortably close.

“This,” she says, her finger pointing to a place on the second page that Rosé recognises to be the family history. “She really hates this wording,” she explains. “Says it leaves too much up for interpretation.”

Rosé huffs. “Interesting,” she murmurs. “I don’t even know how else I’m supposed to say that,” her brows furrow in focus, revealing a little crease between them.

“In the standard wording?”

“My mentor back home hated that,” she murmured, “but I guess, that’s it, Rosie, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she grabs for the new chart and her trusty pen and starts scribbling fervently.

“You went to med school in Kansas?” It’s Denali’s turn to furrow her brows. She had figured that Rosé hadn’t graduated from NYU, the med school that sent its student doctors over to be taught in their hospital, but she’d never let her curiosity wander further.

“U of T in Austin, actually. Yee haw!” she gestures vaguely with the hand that’s not writing, mimicking the tipping of a hat. Denali giggles.

“Why come to New York then?” she asks, before she can think any better of why she needs to know.

“Here,” Rosé pushes the newly written chart towards her. “That sound better?” Denali nods and she starts writing again. “Besides the illustrious reputation of Professor Visage and her ward?”

Denali rolls her eyes.

“My sister got divorced last year and, it turns out, that being alone with three kids is a lot,” she explains, her attention still split between their conversation and the chart. “I came to provide support,” she shrugs.

“That’s very nice of you,” Denali musses.

“Yeah, well, she’s one of my two favourite sisters,” she winks, finishing up the chart with her flourish of a signature. “That look good to you?”

“How many do you have?”

“Sisters? Just the two, but they’re both my favourite people on earth… And they both live here now,” she smiles. There’s an obvious fondness in her eyes that Denali knows far too well. She adores her siblings, too, even if they all live in different corners of the United States.

She mirrors her smile before her eyes scan over the paper in front of her. “Perfect.”

Rosé’s shoulders slump forward. “Great, I’m feckin’ beat,” she says on a low breath. Nobody ever believed that Rosé “I-curse-every-other-word” McCorkell had gone into paediatrics, where swear words were not even supposed to exist.

Denali’s expression turns slightly pained. She still has half a shift left.

“How do you take your coffee?”

Denali’s attention snaps back to Rosé, standing next to the coffee machine, whose whirring she hadn’t even noticed. “Milk and two sugars,” she answers automatically.

“One of these days, I’ll get you some actual good coffee,” Rosé says, busying herself with mixing in Denali’s two sugar packets. “But until then,” she hands the steaming paper cup over the desk, “thank you, Denali,” she winks. “Have a good night.”

#rosenali #rosenali ff #hospital au #omgheyrose #denali foxx

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 2 - Part Two

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for the Season 2 main storyline, which has not been released in English servers!🍒

Be sure to read Part 1 first!

Things get intense after Lu Yi discovers that a particular STF member didn’t participate in the investigation of MC’s company, and had touched the case of drugs when his teammate brought it back

That STF member’s Evol is swapping objects. Keep this in mind IT’S VERY IMPORTANT.

How his Evol works: He needs to touch two objects. The item he touches the second time can then be switched with the first

Gavin is wary that the suspect might swap himself with another STF member, so they decide not to engage in any large scale action

Gavin: Tang Chao. As arranged, let MC leave this place safely. MC, I’ll look for you later.

MC understands that this is STF territory, so she agrees to leave

The STF member who leads her out is wearing a mask and is really shady...

While MC follows behind the shady STF member, the cogs in her brain start whirring: How could the culprit verify that the drugs were real or fake if he wasn’t at the investigation? -> What if there were two people?!

She prepares to press the earpiece to talk to Gavin, but hears his voice:

Gavin: MC, get away from that person! He’s F-45!

In the earpiece and behind me, I can vaguely hear the sound of explosions.

My feet halt. After hesitating for a second, I run in the direction where we came from.

He knew he’d definitely be discovered by Lu Yi, and so made a switch beforehand!

F-45 touches her and she gets swapped with F-45′s partner to view THIS MAGNIFICENT SIGHT:

In the next second, I see the cold muzzle of Gavin’s gun. Cold light is on his face, and it’s filled with austerity.

A startled expression flashes across his face for a moment, and his eyes widen slightly.

But the sharp bullet is already flying in my direction, and time seems to stand still.

The whistling of the bullet is the only sound remaining in the world.

The fired bullet continuously draws closer to me, as though it’d split my head apart in the next instant.

I know that F-45 has switched us. He must have touched his partner in order to carry out this plan.

To let me die here.

All the truths will be silenced with my death.

I know I can’t be faster than the bullet, but I still grit my teeth, wanting to turn my head to the side.

I’ll never give up struggling. I’ll not just die here!

A violent wind whips up instantly.

Gavin: Get down!

Gavin’s eyes are stricken with terror. He stretches out his palm, green veins popping out on his forehead.

The frigid wind is mixed with an abnormal darkness, but all its strength is accurately and quickly concentrated at the front of the bullet.

The gale is at the fore of the bullet, as though they are engaging in a sharp confrontation.

The speed of the bullet is too fast, and it spins rapidly in the small windstorm.

In the next second, I see a strange figure behind Gavin.

MC: Gavin! Behind you!

The gale is next to me. In the windstorm, the bullet continues spinning fiercely.

Gavin lifts his hand, and the bullet flies off in the same direction.

It brushes the side of Gavin’s face lightly, hitting the person behind him.

F-45: Ah!!

In the next moment, F-45 touches himself. A small police emblem is swapped with where he stood previously.

Gavin protects me from the front, glaring at the STF emblem on the ground. His icy gaze is fixed on the two people.

The bullet had hit F-45′s thigh. The other culprit hits the emergency button.

MC and Gavin get trapped behind metal grilles while the culprits run off

Lu Yi speaks to them via the earpiece and identifies the other culprit, U-2, who joined STF 10 years ago. His Evol is creating explosions

U-2 uses his boom boom powers to destroy the cameras

While dramatic music ensues in the background, this happens:

MC: Gavin, can we break the glass behind us to escape?

Gavin: It’s a wall.

MC: Huh?

Gavin: It’s a projection. To beautify the environment.

Even under such circumstances, Gavin explains things to me seriously. It makes me feel like laughing.

I look at the two traitors, and my worry suddenly turns to ease.

MC: What should we do next?

Gavin: Protect yourself. Then, trust me.

He doesn’t turn his head, but his tone is specially slowed down and made tender for me. At the same time, a fierce wind whips up in our surroundings.

The sparks in the man’s hands flicker. Behind him are surveillance cameras set ablaze and knocked to the ground.

I look at Gavin, who has had his shoulders straightened all this while, and I feel vaguely uneasy.

Is Gavin still afraid of fire?

The bright blood red colours flood Gavin’s eyes. He clenches his tense fingers slowly, his entire body seeming to react more slowly than usual.

As U-2 moves his palms, explosions ignite all around us. Broken circuits sizzle with electricity. Together with the crackling sparks, they create raging flames.

??: Save mum! I beg you to save mum!

??: It’s not that I’m standing idly by. You’re too incompetent. You lack the ability to save your mother! From the start, you shouldn’t have been born. You’re the biggest flaw in my entire life!

The monstrous flames shroud his mother’s expression of despair, and Gavin’s own powerless cries for help.

A similar image suddenly surfaces in his mind, overlapping with a small voice, as though reminding him of his powerlessness.

He is unable to register the scalding sensation in his fingers. From that day onwards, something had changed.

It’s just like wanting to write an important letter on a drenched sheet of paper. No matter how much hard he tries, the writing will always be hazy and unclear.

He shifts backwards unsteadily, stepping against the tip of the girl’s shoe.

The girl’s soft and gentle fingers pause on his back, causing his shoulders to tremble slightly.

He turns his head to look at her face. The light in her eyes are crystal clear, without a trace of fear in them.

She grips his slightly trembling palm gently, giving him a smile filled with confidence.

Just like her unreasonable smile on that rainy day.

His fingers gradually regain their warmth. The explosions outside the wind-constructed wall become even more violent.

U-2: Are you going to keep hiding?

Gavin blinks slowly, his eyes flickering with light from the flames. But this time, there isn’t just fear in them.

Behind him, there’s someone he needs to protect.

In his fiery orbs, Gavin seems to see that tiny him.

There are scars all over his body, deep unwillingness and sorrow in his eyes. Tears are streaming down his face as he walks towards himself.

When he walks to his side, Gavin tousles his head gently. Their profiles intersect. But this time, he walks in the direction of the fire.

Who exactly should decide one’s value?

He steps onto the ground resolutely, looking at the man and the reckless flames, no longer retreating.

Gavin knows that this blood red colour will still be his nightmare, but she will be behind him.

Which is why he will not back down.

And this nightmare - someday, it will welcome the dawn.

Even though he can’t answer that question right now, his existence is definitely not defined by other people.

The value of this existence - he will find it himself, and will prove that he has never been a flaw!

The incisive and limpid wind courses through countless sparks, channelling even bigger flames.

The man didn’t seem to expect that the fire would grow this ferocious. He lifts his arm and retreats slightly.

At this moment, Gavin breaks through the light.

He crosses the wall of fire, one leg kicking the man onto the ground, using one leg to kneel on his back.

Without turning his head, he immediately lifts his gun, firing it behind him.

The bullet barely brushes past F-45′s finger just as he lifts it up.

Gavin: Don’t move.

Wind brushes Gavin’s hair lightly. He handcuffs the man steadily.

The man is on the ground. While he struggles, a faint branding of a snake appears on the back of his neck.

The guy suddenly spits out blood and smiles ferociously at Gavin

Gavin realises what he’s about to do and INSTANTLY LUNGES THROUGH THE LARGE FIRE TOWARDS MC T-T

The guy smashes his head on the ground, causing a gigantic explosion

In the midst of the fire, MC is surrounded by a gentle wall of wind T-T

Gavin is panting slightly, his left arm leaning against the wall of wind, looking as though he’s fine.

MC: Gavin...

Gavin: I’m fine, it’s just a small wound.

Just as I plan to lean over to take a careful look at his wound, I hear soft choking noises from afar off.

F-45 is still alive!

Gavin is prepared to stand up, but MC stops him by pressing on his shoulder, and it’s hinted that it’s coated with blood T-T

She says she’ll bring F-45 over. Despite Gavin saying she can’t carry him, he still lets her go, using his Evol to pave a small path for her amid the flames

I turn my head to look at Gavin. The corners of his lips are lifted. His head is turned to the side, the light of the fire rippling slowly in his eyes, clear and resolute.

Gavin: Go carry him.

MC manages to get to F-45, but he’s on the verge of dying so she reads his memories:

There’s a little girl crying and telling F-45 about the class president who keeps bullying her. F-45 says he’ll fetch her from school from then onwards so no one would dare to bully her

In the next image, MC sees a dark hall. Someone speaks: “The existence of Evolvers was a mistake. They will only increase the despair in this world. They shouldn't have appeared in this world. We are Gray Rhino. We will get rid of Evol, for the future of humanity.”

F-45 is in the crowd, and everyone has a snake branded on different parts of their bodies

The next image: The warehouse transaction, and a face she can’t see clearly, though he has a mocking look in his eyes

The images vanish. F-45 is dead.

My hand trembles uncontrollably as I shut his eyes gently.

Gavin: MC.

In my blurry vision, Gavin stretches out his palm.

I walk to his side slowly, and he pats the top of my head gently.

Gavin: This isn’t your fault.

Feeling awful, I nod, knowing clearly that now isn’t the time to be despondent.

What I can do is remember the anger I'm experiencing right now.

She tells Gavin what she saw, and Gavin explains that Gray Rhino is an organisation which is against the existence of Evol, consisting of normal citizens and victims of Evol

STF has been investigating them, but didn't expect them to be related to the drugs

MC notices that Gavin is sounding very fatigued, and realises he’s been concealing his back from her

The fabric on his back has long since been scorched by the flames, revealing his skin which is gradually oozing droplets of blood. The shocking large patch of red seems to emanate heat from the flames.

Simply looking at it tugs at the nerves which perceive pain.

Even though he quickly blocked off that man’s explosion, the violent explosion still completely lashed at his back.

All of the wind was encasing me, leaving only a little for himself.

Because he still used his Evol in his injured state, his wound has been exacerbated.

Waves of heat continuously rise up my chest. I grit my teeth and look at Gavin, who’s putting on a brave front.

He looks as though it doesn’t bother him, coolly and clumsily preventing his wound from getting lapped by the flames.

MC: Gavin you big fool! What do you mean by “small wound”!! You lied to me!

Gavin: [weakly] This isn’t life-threatening...

I don’t feel like talking, and only glare at him harshly.

He seems to realise something from the way I’m staring at him. He lowers his eyes, somewhat at a loss as he places his hand on the back of his neck.

Gavin: [hisses in pain]

MC: Don’t touch your wound!

I hurriedly pull on Gavin’s hand, but he unfurls his hand and grips onto mine tightly.

Gavin: Don’t be mad. Talk to me.

An unsuppressed fatigue is in his eyes. I end up reluctantly setting aside my pique, and look at him.

MC: What do you want to talk about?

Gavin: Anything is fine.

MC: Then... could you tell me why you suddenly left school?

Gavin freezes for a moment, his brows furrowed slightly. His fringe drifts with the wind. Light falls into his eyes, reflecting several dark and gloomy images.

Gavin: Back then... did you go to the library?

His tone seems to be expectant. There’s a tightening in my chest, and I hurriedly turn around.

MC: No! I...

I wanted to make an explanation, but thinking of what happened in the end, my voice grows soft. I lower my head defeatedly.

MC: I’m sorry. This time... I still didn’t receive your letter.

Gavin: This time?

There’s some shock in his expression, as though he didn’t expect that I’d say that. But I don’t explain further, but continue keeping my head lowered.

MC: They said Minor left a bloodstained letter on my desk and thought it was a threatening letter, so no one dared to go near it.

MC: But by the time I went back to the classroom, the letter was gone.

MC: I searched for such a long time... but couldn’t find it...

MC: I thought I accidentally threw it into the dustbin, so I looked through it for a long time. But... I couldn’t find that letter anywhere.

My voice grows even softer at the end, and I don’t dare to lift my head to look at him.

Even if this world were to be reset, unexpected events still present such regrets.

Like a merciless joke, an antithesis to my unwillingness to be powerless.

Gavin: That’s not important anymore. Back then, I had already left before the arranged time. So it’s all right.

MC: But...!

Gavin: MC, lift your head.

I purse my lips, staring at the floor blankly. Gavin doesn’t hurry me, but simply waits at the side quietly.

After a long time, I lift my head. Gavin is leaning his head against the wall of wind, and he reveals an evident smile.

Gavin: A few years ago, I suffered from a small injury during training.

MC: Your “small injuries” aren’t small injuries at all.

He laughs softly.

Gavin: Back then, I felt a little tired, just like in class.

MC: ...and then?

Gavin: I don’t know why, but I suddenly thought of you.

His gaze, from afar off, slowly drifts to my face.

Gavin: At that time, I was thinking...

Gavin: “What are you doing right now”?

The large fire scorches incessantly. Once again, he seems to sweep away all the regrets in my heart plainly and simply.

Gavin lifts his hand, rubbing his palm along a lock of my hair.

Gavin: All those things aren’t important anymore. The important thing is that we’ve met again.

Part Three: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #T-T

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zargsnake · 3 years

Photo

Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 7: Jane

Word Count: 2217 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

* * *

Freed, with the help of the little screwdriver Anakin gave her, on the lower floor of the space station, Zlinky uses the nearest control panel to disable the local electricity. The already dark lower-prison hall turns completely black.

As an Akarn, Zlinky has a third eye in the middle of her forehead which can adapt to almost any environment. Many droids have night vision too, but Zlinky has observed from her time in captivity that droids are poorly kept here. Knightkiller, with her telepathic powers and abundant riches, holds sway over the organic beings in her employment; the guards and patrons here are all devoted to her. But Knightkiller has neglected her mechanical servants. They are all falling into disrepair, and Zlinky has even detected them grumbling among themselves.

People forget too easily that droids, nowadays, have extremely advanced personalities. Adults underestimate how independently-minded their droids can be. But children understand. They have never known droids to be any other way.

Zlinky sneaks down the hall, past the fumbling guards. Other prisoners soon realize that their own electrobars have become deactivated, and they start to emerge into the hallway too, their arms outstretched in front of them, tripping and feeling their way through the dark. Zlinky maneuvers through them with a small measure of grace and a large measure of scrutiny.

Lightsabers, lightsabers, lightsabers, lightsabers, lightsabers. I must find all four. Once we've found them, we'll be unstoppable.

Suddenly, a guard grabs her from behind. A Togruta -- he must have used echolocation. Zlinky squirms against his arms, then stabs behind her wildly with the screwdriver. She isn't sure where she hit him -- the stomach, possibly. But he howls in pain and loosens his grip. She slithers out and leaps, calling upon the Force to help her. She hits her head on the hallway ceiling, but the ploy, otherwise, works. Holding her head, she stumbles around the corner and sees a door marked “Storage.”

Maybe our lightsabers are here? Well, SOMETHING useful must be in here! All I have now is this flimsy little tool.

But she does feel extremely grateful for the little screwdriver, and she hopes Anakin will let her keep it. She would call it good luck, if she believed in that stuff. Instead, she'll call it exceedingly useful. She picks the lock to the storage room with the screwdriver, which takes a frighteningly long minute, dashes inside, and shuts the door behind her.

Zlinky sees cabinets and closets and boxes full of files and records, piles of office and medical supplies. Who would think running a death sport would be so bureaucratic? The haphazardness offends her Temple-trained sensibilities.

But most importantly, she sees, in the corner, a rusted old murder-droid, missing much of its plating and bent over in disrepair. Its shape is about as humanoid as her own, though a couple feet taller. Compassion moves her to approach it. She sees that someone has scribbled a face with two X's for eyes and a frown on a little yellow piece of paper and taped it over the murder-droid's face to signify its death. She yanks the paper off and examines the droid’s busted innards.

There's a flipzipter. A gavel gear. A pair of old-fashioned mono-trammers. It's really not too different from the diner-droids on which she learned robotic engineering. A gunky substance has clogged its gears; she tries to scrape it off with the screwdriver, but she can't get a grip on it with that. She takes a nervous glance at the bulky laser blasters on its back, then plunges her own claws into its chest and scoops out the goop. She pulls out a burnt-up square of metal which was caught in the goop; upon closer inspection, she guesses that it used to be a memory chip. Oh well -- it's useless now. She bends the flipzipter back into its standard position, and reattaches the wires that had become unplugged from it.

With a tiny jolt of electricity that shoots through the Padawan and makes any hairs loose from her braid stick out, the murder-droid wakes up, its red eyes the only light in the darkness.

“ʙʟᴢᴢᴋᴢᴢɢᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀ! ᴀᴀᴀᴀʜ!! AAAAAHHHH!!!! ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?! ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ?! ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ?!”

“Shhh!” Zlinky pulls her sticky hands out of its chest and throws them on top of its mouth-slot -- her mouth-slot, she supposes, since the droid has a feminine voice. “Keep it down! The badguys are looking for me!”

In a muffled voice, the murder-droid responds, “ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ YOU! ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ME?”

“Well you SHOULD care about me! I just saved your life!”

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ?”

“Yeah, I repaired you, you ungrateful bucket of bolts!”

The murder-droid issues whirring noises from several parts. “ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴍʏ ʟᴇɢꜱ!”

“Well I'm not finished! I just started! And if you don't keep it down I never will!”

The murder-droid narrows the dots of light that project her eyes. “ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ?”

“Well... I'll check your brain-text, but I'm not optimistic.” Zlinky unscrews a panel on the side of the droid’s head. “Yeah. It's like I thought. You've been pirated. They scraped off your original ID number.”

“ᴡʜᴀᴛ?! ʙᴜᴛ -- ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ!”

“Nobody's nothing. They must have called you something. Unfortunately, at least one of your memory chips has melted. I think.”

With a squeaking sound, the murder-droid raises her claw to her forehead. “ᴏʜ... ᴍʏ ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ…”

“Hey, don't worry about it. These bozos didn't respect you, but you're with the Jedi now.”

“ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴇᴅɪ?”

“Yeah, like me! I'm a Jedi! My name is Zlinky Zalt.”

“ᴠᴇʀʏ ʀᴜᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ꜰʟᴀᴜɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ᴄᴏɴꜱɪᴅᴇʀɪɴɢ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ.”

“Uh, sorry. Well, let's find you a name; what do you do--?”

Zlinky accidentally zaps herself with an open wire and bites her lip in a grimace.

The murder-droid’s eyes become scattered dots that beep quickly and softly. “ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ... ᴍᴀɪɴꜰʀᴀᴍᴇ ... ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ: NEUTRALIZE.”

“Neutralize?”

Her eyes flicker back to solid red. “ᴀꜰꜰɪʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ.”

“Neutralize what?”

Her eyes become scattering dots again. “ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ... ᴍᴀɪɴꜰʀᴀᴍᴇ ... ʜᴀʀᴅᴡᴀʀᴇ ... ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ ... ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅ ... ʙᴢᴢᴛ ... ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ... ‘ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ’ ... ‘ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ’ ... вzzт ... b҉z҉z҉t҉ ... ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ: ERROR.” Her eyes flicker back to red, but with the sides tilted down in sorrow. “ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛᴇᴅ.”

“Hey, it's okay. The Jedi can get you a new purpose. As long as your programming isn't hopelessly violent…”

“ᴡʜᴇɴ? ʜᴏᴡ ꜱᴏᴏɴ?”

“Well I don't know. As soon as I can get you back to the Temple.”

“ʟᴇᴛ’ꜱ ɢᴏ.” The murder-droid stands up straight.

“Wait!” Zlinky pulls some wires apart.

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʟᴇɢꜱ! ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪxᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ!”

“Yeah, I did. Your purpose right now is to stay put.”

“ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴡᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇꜱ.”

“Deal with it. Patience is an ability, too.”

“ɪꜰ ᴀʟʟ ᴊᴇᴅɪ ᴀʀᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ.”

“Fine. Do you want me to shut you down again?”

“ʙᴜᴢᴢ ʙᴜᴢᴢ ʙᴜᴢᴢ, ɢʀᴜᴍᴍᴍm҉m҉m̵̧̌̍͋̆b̸̧̙͈͈̓̌̌ĺ̵͕͔͇͔͎̠̗͈͍ͅe̷̖͎̳͖̬̅́…”

“I'll take that as a no.” The droid is silent as Zlinky works on her. “I'm sorry we're not at the Temple right now. Believe me, I want to be there far more than you do.”

“ɪ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ꜰʟᴜx.”

I have to repair her mind AND her body! thinks Zlinky.

“Uh, okay, listen. How about I give you a temporary name and a temporary mission right now. Just to tide you over until we get back home. Er, I mean, back to the Temple.”

“ʜʀʀᴜᴍᴍʜʜᴘᴘʙᴢᴢᴢ ʙᴢᴢᴛ ʙᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴇᴇᴘ.”

Zlinky spins a cog and sees a panel of lights in the droid’s guts turn on. She thinks she’s nearly got her -- then she hears the weapons on the droid's back powering on. The young girl swallows nervously.

“Okay, your temporary mission is to protect me and the three other Jedi: my master Tila Juna, a 500-year-old gray Lollian with one broken horn -- Anakin Skywalker, a 9-year-old human with pink skin and yellow hair and blue eyes -- and -- uh -- his master too.”

“ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ɪɴꜱᴛᴀʟʟɪ-- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ɪɴᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ. ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪꜰʏ ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛʜ ᴊᴇᴅɪ!”

“I can't! I don't remember their name! I'll know them when I see them.”

“ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ʙ��ꜰᴏʀᴇ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟʟʏ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴊᴇᴅɪ?”

“Well, first of all, only neutralize when absolutely necessary.”

“... ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ... ɪɴᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀᴛɪʙʟᴇ ... ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ.”

“Oh gimme a break!”

Maybe this is a mistake, thinks Zlinky. I don't want to go on a rampage. But I must get out of here! I have to get back to Tila! That's my top priority!

“Look, I'm very sneaky,” Zlinky says, reassuringly. “You might not have to neutralize anyone. You just have to protect me.”

“... ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ, ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢʀᴀꜰᴛ ᴀ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴏꜰꜰᴇɴꜱɪᴠᴇ ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ.”

Zlinky replies, smugly, “Well I do it every day. That's what being a Jedi is all about! Protecting the innocent, defending the law!”

“... ʙʟʀʀʀɢɢɢɢ.” The droid’s eyes become one annoyed horizontal line of dots. “ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ... ᴀʟɪɢɴɪɴɢ ... ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ɪɴꜱᴜꜰꜰᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ.”

“Oh come on, grow up. It's good to be the hero.”

“ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ‘ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴏʀᴀʀʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇ,’ ᴛᴏᴏ.”

“Yeeeah. I did. Um ... Jedi ... Jedi ... Temple ... Temple Bot? Teebee?”

The murder-droid shudders. “ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɪᴅᴅɪɴɢ? ᴛᴇᴇʙᴇᴇ?”

“What's wrong with Teebee?”

“ɪ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ɪᴛ.”

“Beggars can't be choosers.”

“ɪᴅ: REJECTED. ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ: ɪɴᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀᴛɪʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ. ᴛᴏᴏ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴀʙʟᴇ.”

“Jedi Bot? Jaybee?”

Goop dribbles out of the droid’s mouth slot.

“Alright then... Neutralize. Neutralizer. Jedi ... Jedi Neutralizer. No. Wait. That sounds wrong.”

“ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ,” the murder-droid says quickly.

“Ah, wait!”

“ᴊᴇᴅɪ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟɪᴢᴇʀ.”

Zlinky sighs. “Fine. Jedi Neutralizer. JN.”

“ᴊɴ. ᴊᴀɴᴇ.”

“Jane?”

“ᴊᴀɴᴇ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ,” the droid repeats.

“Me too,” Zlinky responds, truthfully.

As soon as Jane is functionally repaired, Zlinky finds her a battery pack, since they have no time to recharge her. She looks around for a new memory card, but finds nothing. Oh, well. Jane will just have a very short-term memory until they find new hardware for her. Without the card, she can't have any more than one gig of memory. Zlinky will just have to keep reminding her that her name is Jane and her purpose is to protect the four Jedi. Zlinky fears that Jane will forget this and kill her on accident. That would be very ironic. But for now, Zlinky is glad to have her.

Once they leave the storage room, Zlinky points to a guard and begins to command Jane to knock them out, but Jane has already blasted them.

“Ah! Are they alive?” Zlinky whispers in terror.

“ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ?”

Zlinky cautiously approaches the body. “...They're alive. Keep your blaster at exactly that setting, okay? Don't change anything.”

“ᴀꜰꜰɪʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ.”

“Great.”

She tugs the armor off the guard and puts it on herself. Together, they quietly leave the lower prison in absolute chaos and locate the space station employee break room and quarters across a hall. Zlinky finds a station map on the employee computer, which someone had, happily, left logged in.

She finally gets a good look at the layout of the station. The lower floor has a prison and under-arena logistical areas; the main floor has the arena, gladiator rooms, and the best seating; and the upper floor has another prison and the balcony cheap seats.

She searches for where Knightkiller could be. Tila recognized Knightkiller as her old friend Glagret, and told her Padawan so before they were separated. Zlinky knows that the key to escaping, and to stopping this whole evil enterprise, is Glagret. Why has she turned evil? Why did she gather all these crooks together? Why is she mind-tricking Jedi children?

Zlinky figures there must be something controlling her. She imagines striking the implement off the old alien’s brain and rescuing her, restoring her to her true, good self.

What happened 400 years ago on the Liberated Comet? If she was alive, why didn't she come back?

One Padawan and one droid probably don't stand a chance against her.

Zlinky sees in the screen projection that Obi-Wan is fighting in the arena, and Tila is being held as bait. Zlinky wonders why Anakin isn't. She guesses, with a heavy heart, that Obi-Wan was so stubborn about playing along that they killed Anakin in retribution. She feels her guts writhe with fear and anger at the thought. The boy was so kind, and clever, and so very strong in the Force, strong enough to resist a mind-trick -- unheard of at his age -- even though it was stupid of him to try. Perhaps his last legacy is the screwdriver. She will not let him die in vain.

Unless, of course, he's still alive. She wonders if, perhaps, he escaped, just as she has…

She hears an ominous whirring sound, drifting away.

“Jane! Don't wander off.” Zlinky grabs Jane’s rifle-barrel and pulls her back to her side. “Stay with me. You must protect me; it is your purpose.”

“ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?”

“... Call me Guard.”

“ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛ.”

Zlinky looks around nervously at the other guards. She grabs Jane's head and whispers into her audio-slot. “Zlinky Zalt. But don't say so. I'm in disguise right now. So shhh.”

“ᴀʜʜʜʜ. ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ.”

“Uh, good.” The confidence in Jane's voice makes Zlinky doubt that Jane has any idea what's going on. She shakes her head and continues looking at this map.

Chapter 8: Priorities

#my story #my art #star wars #knightkiller: anakin and obi-wan's first adventure #zlinkgwal zalt #jane #scifi #adventure #comedy

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oakleaf--bearer · 3 years

Text

this is my third ace jon fic, this time featuring a lot more projection, particularly around jon discovering what asexuality means

aka georgie tries to take the next step and jon learns a new word

also on ao3

Jon pressed play. He was curled up in bed, back against the headboard and cross stitch in his hands. It was a hobby he'd gotten into after his grandmother had become frustrated when he interrupted his television programs with his fidgeting. Give his hands something to do and he could pay attention for hours. Cross stitches were a pleasant distraction for his thoughts.

The theme song had just finished playing when Georgie came out of the bathroom. She blinked at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching that documentary I was telling you about." He pointed to the screen of his laptop. "Oh, did you want to watch it with me? I can start it again."

"No, that's okay." She said slowly, climbing onto her side of the bed.

He hummed and returned his attention to the screen.

"My housemates will be out all night." She whispered, curling against his side.

"You said."

"It's just us."

"Mmm."

She reached out and took the cross stitch out of his hands.

"Georgie-"

"Jon."

"I'm watching-" He pointed to the screen. "I've been looking forward to this documentary."

She nuzzled against his neck. "It'll still be there."

"Yeah, but it's really interesting. This episode is about Dover Castle."

"Mmm. Sounds fascinating."

"It is, there's a Roman lighthouse there. The curtain wall, that's the bit around the outside, you know, the wall, it's a mile long. There was restoration work done on the keep, it's now fully decorated again. With original techniques, it was a whole thing- What are you doing?" She was rubbing gentle circles into his belly. It felt a bit like she was petting him like a cat.

Sighing, she sat back, closing his laptop and placing it on the bedside table, deaf to his sounds of protest. She clambered up, sitting herself on his lap. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"I don't know. If you wanted to cuddle, you could've said, I wouldn't have minded wearing headphones."

"Christ Jon, you're so oblivious." She lowered herself against him and Jon's brain suddenly caught up.

"Oh, oh no, I'm sorry, you wanted- Right, my mistake." He awkwardly put his hands on his hips. "I'll, you know, get to work, I suppose."

She snorted, shaking her head fondly. "Get to work?"

"No?"

"Not the usual phrase."

"What is the usual phrase?"

She leant forward and whispered something in his ear that made him blush furiously.

"Oh!" His voice came out as a squeak. "Oh? I see. Yes, okay, right."

She chuckled and leant down to kiss him, deep and slow, gently biting on his bottom lip. Jon just sort of sat there, letting her move (there was a shocking amount of moving) and trusting her to take the reigns, so to speak.

Apparently that was the wrong choice, because after a minute or so of kissing (and moving) she leant away from him. "You're still thinking about Dover Castle, aren't you?"

"No."

"Jon."

He ducked his head, a little sheepish. "I was thinking about Edinburgh Castle."

"Jon, your girlfriend is currently on top of you and you're thinking about Edinburgh Castle. Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly. "Everything's fine! Sorry, I'm just distracted."

"Is this because I interrupted your documentary?"

"No, not that," He shook his head, then paused. "Well, sort of. I don't know."

"Come on, tell me what's happening in that big brain of yours?" She wriggled backwards until she was sat more firmly on his thighs, a safe distance from any potential distractions.

He tilted his head back, dropping it against the headboard. "I just didn't think this was going to happen tonight. I knew it would happen at some point, but I don't know. I wasn't expecting this."

"I invited you over to my flat while my housemates were out. What did you think was going to happen?"

He shrugged. "Not this, I guess."

Jon could see her mental cogs whirring away. "Jon, is this the first time anyone's done anything like this with you?"

He nodded. "Is that bad?"

"No, no, everyone takes things at their own pace, it's just-" She frowned. "I thought I was being obvious."

"You've told me extensively how oblivious I am."

"And I love you for that, but still. I thought I was being Jonathan Sims levels of obvious."

He shrugged, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. "I didn't pick up on it. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, I just know to be even more obvious next time."

He blanched. "There will be a next time?"

"You don't want there to be a next time?"

"I've just... not considered it, I guess. It feels like a very big thing to discuss, and I knew it was going to come up at some point but I thought we would have more time."

"Are you nervous?"

He nodded. "Very much so. People make such a big deal out of having sex that I suppose I don't want to mess up."

"Mess up? Jon," Georgie laughed gently, stroking his face. "you won't mess up. It's not that big of a deal."

"Isn't it?"

"Not at all.

"But you like sex. People like sex. I'm going to like it, I just don't know how to-" He waved his hands. "I'm supposed to want to do this."

"Supposed to- Jon, if you don't want to then that's okay."

"But it's not fair to you for me to ask that you wait for me to get over my ridiculous hang ups."

Georgie shook her head. "Come on, let's talk about this tomorrow. Tonight is clearly not the night. Finish your documentary, I'm going to get some water."

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"More than."

"But aren't you-" He searched for the right words. "Don't you want to-"

Georgie grabbed his hand. "Jon, I love you, but do not finish that sentence, okay?"

"Okay."

A few days later he was sat at her kitchen table, a mug of coffee being pushed into his hands, grimacing about the smell. "I really don't understand why people like this."

"It's coffee."

"I'm aware."

Georgie gave him one of her 'I'm plotting something, play along' looks. "Lots of people like coffee."

"I know they do, I just don't get it."

"What don't you like about it?"

"The smell? The taste? Tea is just a far superior drink on all levels."

She leant forward over the table. "So there's not a single thing you like about coffee?"

He thought. "The warmth, I guess? If nothing else it's nice to hold. Comforting."

"Right."

"Right. What's this about?"

Georgie leant down to her bag and slapped a leaflet on the kitchen table. "Here."

"What's this?" He pulled the leaflet towards himself. The bright flashy words on the front read 'So You Think You're Queer?''. "Georgie, I'm bi. You know that right? We are well past this."

"Are we?" She asked. "Are you sure?"

"Is this about the other night? I know I'm attracted to women, I promise you I'm not gay."

"It's not that. I was just reading it when I was waiting for my appointment and I came across a bit that made me think of you. Particularly about the chat we had the other night." She took it out of his hands and flipped it open to one of the pages. "Here."

He stared down at the page she was holding out. "What- what is this?"

'Asexuality', the page announced. Georgie had clearly underlined it a couple of times. The page had a definition and a small chunk of text that Jon's eyes skipped right over.

"Georgie, what is this?" Jon looked up at her.

She was staring at him with an expectant expression. "Asexuality. It's the lack of sexual attraction."

He was already shaking his head. "No, I know I am attracted to you."

"Sexually?"

He paused. He knew Georgie was pretty, that much was clear. And she was funny, she always knew how to make him laugh. He liked spending time with her. He liked calling her his girlfriend. But as he tried to picture their relationship, each logical step of it, the part with sex was just... missing, he supposed. He couldn't picture it.

"But, I like you. I know I like you."

"You can like me without it being sexual. Warmth without the smell or the taste, right?"

Jon blinked at her, then remembered the coffee in his hands. "That's a drink. Did you just compare our relationship to a drink?"

"I knew if I thrust this onto you without some sort of metaphor you'd immediately panic. Make it weird or Jonathan Sims won't focus."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. But what do you think?"

He stared at the leaflet. It was a possibility. Georgie was nice, he liked dating her, but the thought of doing... that made him feel sick.

But people enjoyed sex. It seemed to be all people could talk about a lot of the time. If Jon didn't want that...

"Georgie, is there something wrong with me?"

"What?"

"Sex is normal, it's a thing normal people do. If I don't want it, surely that makes me-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Listen to me very carefully Jon." She took his hands. "Not wanting sex doesn't make you not normal. It just means you don't want sex. There isn't some preordained rule that says that sex is something everyone has to do. So you might be asexual, who cares? You're not broken. Being bi doesn't make you broken, why would this? It's just another label."

He gave her a small smile. "You're sure?"

"A thousand percent. Read the leaflet. If you agree with it, then we can do some more research. If not, then we can forget about this." She took the mug of coffee out of his hands. "Until then, let's not worry about that particular facet of a relationship."

"But what about your needs."

She gave him a look that would've been withering had she not been grinning ear to ear. "Jon, I have dated plenty of very crappy dudes who aren't nearly as considerate as you. I can look after myself. This just means I won't have to fake it."

"Fake it." He frowned. "Fake what?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh! Oh good lord. Really?"

"Oh yes."

"How often?"

"More than you'd think. Some people just don't know their way around down there."

Jon felt somewhat lightheaded. "I doubt I'd be much better."

"Well like I said, we aren't gonna worry about that until you've done your homework. Don't fall into a guilt spiral over this. Remember, you're not broken, no matter how much of that you agree with." She pointed at the leaflet.

He nodded.

Over the next half an hour of reading the leaflet, then opening up his laptop and reading some more, Jon felt more seen than he had in years. A comforting sort of warmth settled into his stomach.

Asexual. Strange how one little word could make so much sense.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #georgie barker

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recollins · 4 years

Text

Unwanted (Spencer Reid x you)

To you, Morgan refusing to room with Spencer is his clear attempt to hook you up with your long-time crush. To Spencer, though, it seems no one wants to be stuck sharing a room with him. A/N: If y’all are interested in a (probably pretty smutty) part 2, please let me know! Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader Words: 4,659 Content: Angst Warnings: None Masterlist - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

One Week Ago

It’d started simple enough: a simple jack & coke, and a basket of fries to share between you, Morgan, and Penelope. Just a little something to unwind, hopefully make it easier to get to sleep tonight. It had been a hard case, and going home to your empty apartment had been the last thing you’d wanted to do…

Morgan, of course, had taken that completely the wrong way, and began teasing about finding you someone to take back with you. One drink in, it’d been harmless joking. Now, six shots deep, your self-proclaimed wingman was on the hunt.

“You said yourself you didn’t wanna go home alone,” he pointed out, cocky grin backing up his point as he struggled to stand up.

“I didn’t mean I wanted someone to take home!” you groaned, clinging to Morgan’s arm with a death grip, trying to keep him away from the group of guys at the bar he’d decided to introduce you to.

“Ay, you just said you haven’t been with anyone in six months,” he laughed, easily untangling your unsteady hold on him to try and stand again; you reattached yourself immediately. “As your friend and wingman, I can’t let that slide.”

“You so totally can. I give you full permission to let it do exactly that,” you insisted, dropping your head against his arm. “Morgan, really, I don’t want to take any of these guys home!”

“What, you don’t trust me, sunshine?” Morgan scoffed, then nodded over your head. “Look, I got Penny G a ticket to a pretty good night…”

Instantly your eyes slid to your best friend, leaning against the bar and talking to what would normally be considered a decently attractive man. And yeah, Morgan probably could find you someone to hook up with. Except you didn’t just want any guy, you wanted –

Morgan had capitalized on your distraction and broken free, already moving for a group of guys at the bar. You scrambled after him, snagging his hand and hauling him back desperately; he didn’t even stumble. Oh god, he was really gonna do this. You had to stop him before he got you tangled up into something you didn’t want to deal with. The words came out before you could stop them.

“Morgan no, I don’t wanna just get with someone! I wanna be with someone!”

That stopped him. Morgan turned and gave you a curious look, having picked up on your not-so-subtle play on words. That had been the sign. You should’ve aborted mission right then and there, scampered out of that bar and gotten your drunken mouth as far away from Derek Morgan as possible.

“Someone, or…” a smirk curled dangerously over his lips. “Someone.”

You opened your mouth to scoff when you realized what he meant. It hung open for several seconds before you stammered,

“I – I just meant, I don’t want a random stranger coming home with me –“

“Nah, uh-uh,” he grinned, turning and walking you back to the booth, gently nudging you down before sliding in beside you. “You meant you don’t wanna have a random hookup. And by that look on your face, I think it’s cause you got your eyes set on a particular someone.”

Just play it cool, [y/n]. You’re a profiler too. You can talk your way out of this. Don’t let him figure you out!

“I never said that.”

Smooth. Okay, it’s fine. You can recover from this.

“Oh you did,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing a hint as he studied you. As he profiled you. “There’s one guy you want to take home, someone you haven’t been able to get with that you’ve liked for at least six months.”

“I – what? No. That’s not – quit profiling me!” you squeaked out, drunk thoughts desperately trying to gather themselves to build a defense. Get. It. TOGETHER. You are a profiler with the FBI. You bluff serial killers all the time. You can bluff a drunk Morgan!

“Uh huh. That’s why it’s been so long since you got any. You been hung up on this one dude the whole time. And you know what else? I bet I know him.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Carefully back out of the trap he just set. Walk around it. Don’t fall into it.

No words came out whatsoever. You opened your mouth, and it just hung there as useless as your brain was being right now. Morgan’s smirk just grew.

“That’s what I thought. So let’s see… someone I know. Six months. You transferred to the BAU just about that time, didn’t you?”

“No.”

Oh for fucks sake, [y/n]! How the hell are you a profiler?!

“Huh. Yeah, you did,” Morgan said slyly. Okay, you had to get ahead of him on this! Cut him off, before he snapped the last pieces in place. Stop the train of embarrassment before it could leave the tracks. “Which, by default, means it’s –”

“I do not like Reid!” you blurted out at the same time Morgan said,

“… probably someone at headquarters.”

You both fell quiet for a heartbeat, staring at one another wide-eyed as the words you’d just thrown out settled between you. Oh. My. God. You had just outed yourself. This was not what you’d meant when you said to get ahead of him!

The grin that spread over Morgan’s face sealed your fate. There was no going back. There was no denying your admission, no hiding the crush you’d been harboring all this time. It was out in the open, and in Morgan’s hands it was not gonna end well.

You were never drinking again.

- - -

Now

Morgan’s dark eyes flicked over Reid’s shoulder, meeting your wide, pleading gaze. A spark of mischief glinted in the wink he threw to you before turning to talk to the man in front of him. Oh god, you were gonna kill Morgan as soon as you got the chance.

He’d been quiet about your crush all last week and all through the first half of this case. You’d been expecting him to tease you non-stop, drop hints to Reid, hang a banner over your desk with your confession and throw confetti every time he passed…

The silence had been a trap. You should’ve known better than to think he would ever let this go. It’d taken time, but now that the opportunity had presented itself he wasn’t letting it pass by him. It was the perfect storm: the hotel was overbooked, Emily and JJ had already paired off, and Morgan had beat you to Hotch by half a second.

Now, he was breaking the news to Reid, and in just a few minutes you’d be stuck sleeping in the same room as the man you couldn’t get out of your head. You were still desperately making faces at him, shaking your head in a silent plea, doing whatever you could to avoid what would undoubtedly be the most awkward night of your life.

“You and I always room together,” Reid said slowly; you could see the tilt of his head as Morgan shrugged.

“We gotta mix it up every now and then. Keep it fresh,” Morgan explained, slinging an arm around Reid’s shoulder as he spun him around without warning, nudging him towards you. “Ain’t that right, [y/n]?”

You were still shaking your head, mouthing don’t you dare at Morgan when they both turned to face you. You froze for half a second and then gave a nervous smile, trying to play it off.

“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah,” you managed, clearing your throat and trying in vain to keep the blush off your face. Dropping his hold on Reid and slinging his duffle over his shoulder, Morgan wiggled his brows at you as you crossed your arms, scowling up at him as he passed.

“Have a good night, you two,” he teased before disappearing up the stairs. For several long, awkward moments you and Reid stood in painful silence, looking anywhere but each other.

Okay, you couldn’t stand in the lobby forever. You’d just have to act like you hadn’t played out this exact scenario dozens of times before with the handsome doctor standing across from you. It was fine. You could do this.

When you looked up, though, the look on Reid’s face caught you off-guard. He’d been staring at you but the moment you locked eyes he gave a quick couple of blinks before looking away, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling nervously. His hands came up to the strap of his bag and he clung to it tight; something he only did when he was uneasy.

He was uncomfortable having to be stuck with you. Your heart sunk, twisting painfully on its way down to the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t even considered that Reid wouldn’t want to be paired with you, and it came like a slap to the face.

Let’s just get tonight over with, you thought desolately, scooping up your duffel and grabbing the key card off the counter, silently leading the way up to the rooms. Reid didn’t speak until you got inside, simply mumbling a thanks as you held the door for him.

He didn’t make any eye contact, not even looking up as he dumped his own bag beside the door. As you turned to move further inside, you froze. Of fucking course. There was only one queen-sized bed. For half a heartbeat excitement shivered through you. Sharing a bed with Reid? Yes please.

Except, when you turned to gauge his response, the look on his face instantly shut those thoughts down. The best way to describe it was absolutely devastated. He stared at the bed unmoving; you could practically feel the cogs whirring in his mind.

When he turned to you, you offered the best smile you could with all the aching in your chest and his expression caught you off-guard. His face was decidedly neutral but his eyes cut through you. At first it almost looked like heartache - mirroring the own inside of you - but before you could pinpoint it he turned away and shrugged his messenger bag off his shoulders.

“Do you mind if I shower first?” his voice was soft; you would’ve missed his question if you hadn’t been so close. You went to answer and the words stuck in your throat as you felt tears welling up. Swallowing them down quickly, you nodded and said,

“No, go for it.”

He didn’t reply, simply stooping and grabbing a bundle of clothes out of his bag and disappearing into the bathroom as fast as he could. As soon as you heard the water start up, you gave a pathetic sniff and quickly tried to brush the forming tears away as you dropped onto the bed.

It was dumb, you knew it was, but Reid’s rejection hurt. Hell, this wasn’t rejection. He clearly flat-out detested being forced with you and you had no idea why. You’d never really talked to him that much, admittedly, but you hadn’t thought that was such a bad thing.

You were a listener, and more than anything you loved hearing him rattle off endless facts about everything under the sun. Whether it be statistics on female arsonists, or the percentage of adult males in the population of Indianapolis, or where German chocolate cake came from, you were all ears. The most conversational you got with him was prompting for more facts. On occasion you got paired with him on a case, but more often than not it was comfortable silence and idle chit-chat on your part, and the endless stream of knowledge from him.

More than anything, you wanted to just talk to him, have a real conversation with him, do something more than stare at him with heart-eyes and ogle his attractive face. You never had, though, because you’d been terrified of saying something stupid to him, or making yourself look like an idiot, or coming off clingy and weird because you liked him so much and sometimes you just ended up staring at him because my god that jawline, and his gorgeous eyes, and those hands -

Well, now it didn’t matter, because you’d totally ruined the tiny bit of rapport you’d built with him over the months - god only knows how - and he had made it clear that being forced to be near you for longer than an hour or two was something he couldn’t handle.

For the duration of his shower, you seriously debated calling Morgan and begging him to switch with you. This was his damn fault after all, and you didn’t want to make Reid any more uncomfortable -

Oh my god. That’s right. There was only one bed. You let out a groan and flopped back onto the mattress, burying your face in your hands. This seriously couldn’t be any more awkward. The water shut off and you sat up quickly, wiping the lingering tears off your cheeks and running a hand through your hair, trying to pull your emotions into place.

Okay, you'd take a shower and then offer to get some dinner. Food solved everything, right? You guys could eat, maybe you could talk through the awkwardness, and if not you’d just build a dividing wall of pillows down the center of the bed and force your way through the next six hours.

And if it all goes to shit I just won’t get on the jet. I’ll leave the BAU and start a new life in Indianapolis and won’t ever both Reid again, you reasoned, getting up to grab your shower bag as you heard the door open. Reid didn’t even look up at you as he came into the room, still toweling off his hair, head down and completely oblivious to the friendly smile you’d offered.

Eyes falling to the floor, you trudged into the bathroom and shut the door, sighing heavily and slumping against the door. Maybe you’d just camp out in here all night. Would that be less akward than forcing him into a bed with you?

Ugh, you had no idea. You couldn’t keep going in circles right now. Shoving off the door, you turned the shower on and as you started to undress you realized you were missing something... Right. Clothes. You sort of needed something to wear. The last thing you needed was to traipse out in a towel and dig for your pajamas; things were already uncomfortable enough between you two as it was.

Shutting off the water briefly, you ducked out of the bathroom and made for your duffle, only to freeze when you caught sight of Reid. He was literally halfway out the door with one bag in his hand and the other slung over his shoulder, eyes wide, staring at you like you’d just caught him committing murder.

Or, y’know, awkwardly trying to abandon you while you were showering.

The two of you stood in painful, tense silence and you literally fought back tears when things clicked into place. He’d been planning his escape - he’d opted to take a shower first just for this reason.

He was so miserable being stuck with you he was literally running the first chance he got. You dropped your eyes to your feet, trying to think of what to say. Had you really made him that uncomfortable? Guilt overwhelmed everything else, realizing it was all your fault Morgan had done this.

“You don’t need to leave,” you whispered, hands wringing together as you tried to keep your voice steady. “I can go crash with JJ and Emily.”

“It’s fine,” he dismissed, the hard edge in his voice cutting into your already sensitive heart. “I don’t want to inconvenience you more than I have.”

What? You peeked up at him through your lashes, frown on your face. He wasn’t looking at you, head turned away, jaw clenched tight.

“You aren’t an inconvenience.” Reid’s lips pressed together into a tight line and he took a breath before he said quietly,

“You don’t have to be nice to me to spare my feelings, [y/n]. Despite what most people think I’m not oblivious when it comes to reading emotions. I’m actually very good at picking up on unspoken cues.”

“I never thought you weren’t,” you told him almost defensively. Why did it feel like he saw himself as the one being attacked here? He was the one running out on you. “I’m not just being nice. I – I really don’t mind you here.”

Well, you could’ve sounded a bit more convincing but again, your nerves and the emotions were getting the best of you and your words weren’t coming out as you wanted them to. Finally, though, Reid turned to look at you. That same emotion was in his gaze again, chocolate eyes glinting with a sadness you hadn’t expected, though the expression on his face hardened into a defensive frown as he threw out sharply,

“You and Morgan really need to work on telling a convincing lie.”

His quip was a blow to the stomach, knocking the breath out of you as you actually recoiled from his harsh tone. When he caught sight of your reaction his frown faltered. Wounded now, all you managed to ask was,

“Why would I lie to you, Reid?”

With a heavy sigh, obviously considering just taking off down the hall, he stepped back into the room and let the door shut. Though he sat his duffle down, his messenger bag stayed in place across his shoulders and his hands came up to tangle in the strap again.

“I saw the looks you were giving Morgan earlier, [y/n]. You didn’t want room with me. And I get it.” His eyes fell to his shoes, hands wringing the strap tighter, voice tightening with emotion as he said softly, “it’s always a race to avoid being paired with me. And normally Morgan sucks it up, but I guess he’s tired of me too. It’s not fair for you to be stuck with me, so I’m not putting you in that position.”

Oh. Oh no.

Your mind replayed the moments in the lobby, guilt and shame swarming you when you realized exactly how that had looked to Reid. Morgan pushing him off with a bullshit line of “We gotta mix it up every now and then”. You, practically jumping up and down begging not to be with Reid, and then scowling at Morgan when he teased you for the matchup. It had looked like you’d drawn the short straw, like Reid was unwanted.

“I’m so sorry,” you said quickly, heart twisting when he didn’t look over at you. “That’s not it at all. I – I mean, I didn’t wanna spend the night with you but –“

“It’s okay, [y/n], I get it.”

“You don’t,” you insisted; the tone of your voice caught his attention and finally he met your eyes. He took in your expression - and the blush on your cheeks - and his brows drew into a frown. “It’s not you, okay? There’s nothing wrong with you, like at all.”

“What is it then?” he pressed, the challenge in his gaze making it clear he really didn’t believe you. He thought you were still just trying to be nice.

You know what? Fuck it. Things were already messy as it was, why not throw everything into the blender and turn it on high?

"I didn’t want to room with you because I’ve had a crush on you for months and I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable for you because I don’t know how to act when I’m with you and I didn’t wanna put you in an awkward position,” you rushed out in one breath, speaking before you could stop yourself.

The words hung in the air between you two as painful silence followed your confession. Reid’s brows drew together even more, and for a moment he ducked his head, processing what you’d just said. I mean, you knew it had just been an unexpected dump of information, but the silence was killing you. Did he not believe you? Did he maybe like you back? Had you just made things worse? Was he gonna file harassment complaints with HR and get a restraining order on you?!

Seriously, he had to say something before you imploded.

Finally, after what felt like years, Reid met your eyes again. This time, the unwavering doubt and defensiveness in his stare caught you off guard and you stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak because you had no idea what to do with the look he was giving you.

“Morgan put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Well, you hadn’t been expecting that. Clearly, Morgan hadn’t told him about your crush, but what did he think was going on? All your years on this earth and all your time as a profiler had not prepared you to figure out what the hell was happening.

“What do you mean?” you hedged; he took your roundabout answer as confirmation and he blew out a bitter breath. He deflated, like for just a heartbeat he’d let himself believe my words and now I’d ripped that away from him. “Reid –“

“It’s part of his prank war, right? I took all the spoons out of his apartment –“ ...he what? “ – so he has you pretend you like me.”

Admittedly that hurt a little bit. Your feelings for him were a joke? Defensive again, you crossed your arms and challenged,

“Why would that be a prank?” when he gave you a look as if to say why do you think, you repeated, “I like you, Reid.”

“You don’t,” he deflected immediately. You opened your mouth to argue and he gave a bitter laugh. “You can’t.”

Okay, you knew you weren’t on his level with pretty much anything – smarts, looks, personality… - but seriously. You weren’t allowed to like him because of that?

“What? Why not?” you scoffed, defensive argument on the ready as he told you simply,

“Because beautiful girls like you don’t like dorky, ugly guys like me, [y/n]. I don’t get lucky like that. I let it slip to Morgan that I liked you and I thought that was safe with him but clearly he’s just trying to use that against me.”

Your mouth was still open, having been ready to defend yourself, but now you just couldn’t comprehend what he’d just told you. Reid thought you were beautiful? He… he thought you liking him would be lucky? He’d told Morgan he liked you?! Your heart was stuttering in your chest, still stuck trying desperately to wrap around the fact that Spencer Reid thought you were beautiful.

Once again he took your silence as agreement – oblivious to your bright red face and open-mouthed stare – because he went on,

“I appreciate you trying to be kind but you really don’t need to –“

You did the only thing you could think to do. Before you could second-guess yourself, you crossed the room and stepped up to Reid, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down into a hard kiss. He made a noise of surprise, holding absolutely still as your lips moved against his, trying to convey the honesty you’d been trying to tell him. When he still hadn’t moved, concern sparked in your chest and instantly you broke away, your hand slowly trailing down his jaw as you retreated back half a step.

All he could do was stare at you in complete and total shock. His lips were parted as he drew in a ragged breath, wide eyes flicking back and forth between your own. Okay, he really needed to stop with the painful silences. The embarrassed flush crept slowly up your neck, heating up your face as your hand came up to nervously rub the back of your neck.

“What –“ his voice was an octave higher than normal and he quickly cleared his throat, blinking rapidly as he tried again, “what was that for? Not – not that I mind. I don’t – I just, I don’t understand –“

“I was being serious. I’ve had a crush on you for a long time,” you admitted, dropping your eyes, embarrassment overwhelming to the point you couldn’t meet his stare anymore. “Since I met you, actually. And it wasn’t supposed to come out, like, ever, because I never figured you would like me back. But I got drunk around Morgan and it came out… He said he’s my self-proclaimed wingman so I guess this was –“

“Why wouldn’t I like you?” he pressed softly, taking a step towards you. Unable to look up, nerves still overwhelming you, you simply shrugged your shoulders and said meekly,

“You’re so sweet, and so funny and – and you’re crazy smart. You’re like, the most brilliant person I’ve ever met. And, y’know, you’re kind of ridiculously attractive.” His words from a few moments ago sprung up and now you did flick your eyes up to his to add heatedly, “you’re not a dorky, ugly kid. I hate that you see yourself that way, because to me you’re the opposite.”

His eyes were burning into you, cutting through your core with such an intensity it took your breath away. When he didn’t say anything you had to drop your gaze just to get your thoughts back in order.

Reid’s hand tentatively reached out to you, fingers gently tucking under your chin to tilt your head up. As your eyes met again he closed the distance between the two of you, hand sliding up your jaw until his hand cupped your face. Slowly, he leaned down towards you, giving you time to pull away if you’d wanted to.

You didn’t move.

The ghost of a smile turned up his lips for just a moment before they found yours once again. His eyes fluttered shut and yours did the same as his lips moved gently against your own. Your hand came up to rest over his, making sure he staid put as you pulled back just a hint so you could steal another kiss, capturing his bottom lip between both of yours, sucking softly and drawing a near-imperceptible sigh out of Reid.

You were completely lost in the moment with him as it finally registered that you were kissing Spencer Reid. You were kissing Spencer Reid. In all the months you’d pined about doing this, all the thoughts that had run rampant about the handsome profiler you were fawning over, this easily topped your highest expectations.

When you and Reid finally pulled away, breathless from just those short moments, the smiles couldn’t be helped. You met each others eyes and your grins widened, both ducking your heads as you processed what had happened. Reid’s hand slowly slid down your cheek, fingers brushing your jaw, thumb lightly tugging against your lip and sending sparks through your body.

“I, um, I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” you admitted softly, shy smile curling over your kiss-swollen lips. As you went to step back, Spencer’s hand fell from your face to wrap over the side of your neck, holding you in place.

“I have too,” he murmured, thumb now brushing lightly over the curve of your throat, drawing a shiver out of you that darkened his eyes instantly. He leaned down, catching your lips in a hard, hungry kiss, worlds different from the tentative ones just moments ago.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip and you parted instantly, moaning softly as he took claim over your mouth, hand tightening just a hint against your neck. He tugged back for just a heartbeat, only long enough to catch his breath as he said lowly,

“I’m done waiting, [y/n].” Part 2

#Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid FanFic #Spencer Reid Fanfiction #Spencer Reid Imagine #Spencer Reid Angst #Spencer Reid x Reader #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Imagines #Criminal Minds Self Insert #Spencer Reid Self Insert #Dr. Spencer Reid #Imagines #angst #fluff #female reader #spencer reid x female reader

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sleep-i-ness · 4 years

Text

The Nature of the Beast

Blurb: The Doctor is taking you to the one person who has dealt with the Monks before and you weren’t expecting the ‘monster’ in the Vault to be quite so hot.

Content Warning: hopeless lesbian, a thing for hands (because who doesn’t)

Taglist: @kjaneway1 (if you would like to be added please fill in this form)

Beep. You eyed the Doctor with some worry as he fiddled with the extensive locks, each part letting out a further bleep of approval as he came closer to completely unlocking the Vault. He had said he had to do this, that he had no choice and that’s what scared you the most. What monster could he have locked up deep in the basement of the university? You’d never seen him so visibly nervous and your muscles felt frozen at the prospect of coming face to face with the creature. As the doors swung open, you gripped tightly onto Bill’s hand, bracing yourself for whatever beast was within.

The delicate strains of a single melody echoed around the expanse, the piano eerie in the total silence. A woman sat at the stool, head resting on one hand while the other fiddled with the keys, playing the repetitive melody. You shared a confused look with Bill as you dropped her hand, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

The Vault was bigger on the inside, perhaps Time Lords needed to overcompensate for something, and there were even wide windows letting in grey light. As you continued further into the room, you noticed that the woman and the piano were inside a hexagonal containment field. Glowing blue posts outlined the raised podium, sparse bar the figure and her piano, and a few ratty-looking pieces of furniture were scattered around the rest of the room. The Doctor flopped into a leather armchair as the doors swung shut behind you, flicking his coat out before sitting. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“But it's, it's just a woman,” Bill blurted, arms spread wide as she hesitated. The aforementioned woman stopped playing and turned around to fix the Doctor with an unimpressed look. “God, the way you and Nardole have been carrying on, I thought you had some kind of monster in here, or something!”

You eyed the woman curiously, wondering what about her was so terrifying. Hair awry, eyes a brilliant burning blue, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the spellbinding figure.

“I do.” His gaze never once shifted from eyeing the woman and he sighed. “Missy, Bill and Y/N. Bill and Y/N, Missy, the other Last of the Time Lords.”

Bill raised her hand in a small wave as the woman eyed the two of you up and you smiled weakly. You shivered involuntarily as her eyes brushed over you, feeling oddly drawn towards her.

“Wait a sec.” Bill turned to the Doctor with a frown. “Why have you got a woman locked in a vault? Because even I think that's weird, and I've been attacked by a puddle and she’s snogged a Zygon.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a snort as you realised it was not the time nor place to be making fun of the current state of your love lives. Although it was understandable why they were in such a state, considering you had the hots for an incredibly dangerous Time Lady.

“She's going cold turkey from being bad.” The Doctor glanced up at Bill, eyes finally straying away from Missy. Missy hmphed, not looking away from the piano as the Doctor zeroed back in on her. “I want to ask if you've had any dealings with the Monks before.”

“Of course. I've had adventures too,” she preened, her voice lilting as she twisted her torso to face you all. She had a strong Scottish accent, maybe that was another Time Lord thing, and her voice dropped as she teased. “My whole life doesn't revolve around you, you know.”

“Did you defeat them?” Bill piped up, desperate, brow creased. The guilt was dripping off of her and you winced, wishing you could do something to alleviate it. You knew she blamed herself for the state of the world but, despite the Doctor’s remonstrations, she’d done what she believed was right and you would stand by her for that.

“I did.” Her self-satisfactory tone was tinged with affront, as if there was no doubt in her ability to defeat the Monks. Your teeth tugged on your bottom lip as you watched her, completely enthralled.

“How?”

Missy seemed amused with Bill’s bluntness, painted lips pulling into a savage grin as she exhaled a short laugh. Giving her a once-over, her eyes caught on you again, lighting up as you fidgeted under her gaze.

She turned away again. “I've got some requests. I want some new books, some toys,” the Doctor sighed, “like a particle accelerator, a 3-D printer, and a pony.”

“I don't think that you really grasp what's going on here,” he huffed, his accent bleeding through stronger as his frustration grew. “Nice people generally don't haggle over the fate of a planet.”

“I once built a gun out of leaves. Do you think I couldn't get through a door if I wanted to?” The tension hanging in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife and you gulped as her stare drilled holes into the Doctor. You weren’t sure what you were feeling at her somewhat veiled threat, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t solely fear. Missy jumped up, spinning to face the Doctor by the side of the piano. “I'm here, all right? I'm engaging with the process.”

“Okay,” Bill jumped in, glancing at you for support. You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we can, we can get those things for you.”

“C'est supère.” Missy overenunciated the French and you bit back a grin, noting her disappointed expression at the lack of reactions. She sighed, crossing her legs, and tilting her head. “So, what have you got so far?”

As the Doctor rose, so did Missy. He began to pace, each step leading to more thoughts tumbling out of his mouth. But you were distracted by the divine figure in front of you, enshrined in a tight purple suit and sinfully demure white blouse. “They hold on to power by targeting the part of the brain specifically to do with memory and perception, correct? Right?”

Missy closed the lid of her grand piano, fingers deftly clasping around the stand for the lid and folding it down. “Getting warm. Fingers tingling.”

“But they target it with what exactly? How do they sustain it?” Missy sat on the piano lid; hands clasped in her lap as the Doctor rambled. “How do their lies infiltrate the brains of billions? Is it some kind of airborne psychoactive?”

She shifted to lying on the piano lid, gaze following him as he paced round. Something in the shrewd look in her eyes reminded you of a cat watching a mouse.

“Oh my God.” The reverent gasp slipped your lips as she kicked her legs up. The smirk tugging at the corners of her lips gave away that she’d heard you and you flushed.

“No, no, that's very cold, very cold.”

“Something that's constantly being fed to the populace, constantly consolidating its hold. Is it in the water?”

“God, no. It's freezing, freezing.” She gestured wildly; legs kicked up in the air behind her. “Absolutely freezing. Couldn't be colder. Very, very, chilly. So, so chilly.”

Missy swung her legs round and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as she straightened up and jumped off the piano. She winked at you, smoothing down her skirt.

“Oh, come on. I'm bored!” She whined. “You haven't been to see me in six months. No-one has! Not even that bald bloke who looks like an egg.”

“What, you left her alone in here for six months?” You and Bill both whirled on the Doctor, mouths agape.

“Six months,” Missy whispered, repeating Bill with an expression of mock horror.

“I was in prison for six months.” The Doctor protested.

“Start at the beginning.” She ordered, treating him as a teacher would a little kid. “How do they get a foothold on a planet?”

“Some idiot asks for their help.”

Bill glared at the Doctor and you narrowed your eyes at him. Sure, it hadn’t been the greatest idea to ask the Monks for help, but he could have at least been somewhat grateful for how much she was willing to sacrifice for him. And for regaining his vision.

“Well, not just any idiot. It has to be a properly consenting human mind. A pure request, one without agenda or ulterior motive.” Missy’s lips twitched as the Doctor spun on his heel, stalking away from you all. The mania lurking in the back of her eyes frightened you and you shrunk closer to Bill.

“It's them.” The Doctor faced you again, a resigned smile on his face. “That person creates a psychic link, which forms an anchor that keeps the Monks in power. They're the lynchpin.”

“Scalding. Ow.” Missy’s eyes darted surreptitiously from the Doctor to you and back again, lips forming a perfect ‘o’. Your brain short-circuited, eyes caressing the sharp contours of her cheekbones and jawline. God, she was hot.

“But the brainwaves of one person wouldn't be powerful enough to contain an entire planet,” he trailed off; you could almost see the cogs whirring in his great mind. He paused, waving a finger. “The statues! As soon as they got here, the Monks put up statues in every town square, and every park, and every playground.”

“You're on fire, you're literally on fire you're so caliente. That's Spanish for hot.” Missy called back to you and Bill, who could do no more than stare and try to follow on with the Time Lords’ discourse.

“The statues are transmitters. They boost the signal and beam it out all around the world.” The Doctor grinned smugly.

“Boom! You've exploded.” Missy gestured with her hands, the light glinting off the tops of her cheekbones. You inhaled sharply. “Now, all you have to do is find whoever opened the door to the Monks in the first place.”

The Doctor glanced at Bill, raising his eyebrows. “Say I already have.”

“Oh! Well then, you're sorted. Just kill them,” the Doctor’s grin dropped, “that weakens the Monks' grip on the world.”

You grabbed onto Bill’s hand tightly, watching as her face fell, crestfallen. She almost seemed resolved and you rubbed your thumb over the back of her knuckles.

“No, no. No, no, that can't be right,” the Doctor scoffed disbelievingly, somewhat taken aback. Though wasn’t this response unsurprising? “There are planets that the Monks have ruled for thousands of years.”

“It's passed on through the bloodline. Usually the lynchpin goes on to lead a normal life, have their own family, and the link is passed down through the generations.” Missy strode forward, resting one arm up against the supporting poles, the other resting on the enticing curve of her hip.

“But the Monks must have worked that out. They've been doing this for millennia.”

“Why? If the link is passed on, the Monks stay in charge, through, they think, their ruthlessness and efficiency. But if the lynchpin dies and the link isn't passed on, and the Monks get booted off the planet, well, they just chalk it up to experience,” Missy gesticulated, each new point greeted with a flick of her wrist.

She sat down once again, resuming her place at the piano and her fingers ran daintily over the keys. You followed her hands with an unnecessary fixation, wetting your lips nervously as the joints flexed and danced across the notes. Bill’s sudden movement broke your concentration, and you shared a look with the Doctor.

Bill caught the expression on your faces. “No, it's okay. I want to speak to her.”

“Yes?” You couldn’t help the rising disappointment as Missy turned to face her, hands dropping off the piano.

“So when you defeated the Monks, that's how you did it?”

“Well, at this point, all that was left of the bloodline was a wee girl,” you swallowed harshly at the thickened accent, “and I just pushed her into a volcano.”

You could have sworn Missy glanced at you when she repeated the stressing of word in her heavy Scottish accent, that her lips had twitched at your visceral reaction.

“It's me. The lynchpin is me.” Bill’s voice trembled, tears threatening to break from her eyes. You inched closer to her, not close enough to touch but enough to provide some sort of support.

Missy’s attention jumped straight back to Bill, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly.

“Awkward,” she sang, leaning back on the piano with a hint of smugness at the discordant chords.

“So you're saying I have to die.” No. The Doctor would come up with something else, he couldn’t just let your best friend die.

“No. If you were just to die, everyone's false memories would have to fade, and that could take ages. It's actually better if you keep breathing, if your brain just keeps transmitting, well, nothing. That would blot out the residue false memories.” The grin on her face almost convinced you that the option she was providing was an improvement. Almost.

“What would be left of me?” Bill’s eyes never left her face.

“You'd be a husk. Completely and irrevocably brain-dead. You couldn't even get on Celebrity Love Island.” It was her matter-of-fact tone that riled you, the inevitability in her voice.

“No.” You stepped up beside Bill, face to face with the Time Lady and almost fearful at the feral look buried deep in her eyes. A hand clasped around your elbow as the Doctor yanked you and Bill back from the containment field.

“Even if that was the truth, the fact that you're suggesting it shows there's been no change, no hope, no point.” The Doctor’s words were harsh and the spark in Missy’s eyes fizzled out, replaced with an all-encompassing sadness. Your heart ached for her, despite her sole resolution to your problem being for Bill to virtually die. “We don't sacrifice people - it's wrong - because it's easy.”

“You know, back in the day, I'd burn an entire city to the ground just to see the pretty shapes the smoke made. I'm sorry your plus one doesn't get a happy ending, but, like it or not, I just saved this world because I want to change. Your version of good is not absolute.” A watery sheen covered her eyes, missable as she blinked it away moments after it appeared. “It's vain, arrogant, and sentimental.”

As the Doctor backed down and you were left staring at the forlorn Time Lady, a pang of empathy struck a chord in your heart. The Doctor made it very hard for you to feel like a ‘good’ person - the very first time you met him, he had yelled at you for taking a decision which had saved the entire planet, albeit whilst risking your own life. And forever was a long time to be stuck in his shadow of goodness.

“If you're waiting for me to become all that, I'm going to be here for a long time yet.”

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