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after-witch · 2 months

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Check Out Time is Eleven [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Check Out Time is 11 [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You're invited to a hotel for a warm meal and a place to sleep by a mysterious stranger. Soulmate AU.

Word count: 7100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, a really useless and non-philosophical reference to My Dinner with Andre

The red thread on his finger loses slack for the very first time in his life, and for the smallest of moments, Chrollo Lucilfer forgets himself. His steps falter, expensive, stolen shoes nearly scuffing on the sidewalk, and a startled breath quivers through his chest. His mouth gapes, ever so slightly.

In surprise.

In trepidation.

In realization.

The red thread was, had always been, attached to you. His soulmate. Whoever you were. The gentle tugging of the thread meant that after years of fruitless searching, you were finally somewhere nearby, close enough to reach. Probably, given the tautness of the thread, even within walking distance.

How lucky for him.

How unfortunate for you.

You were finally discovered. You were finally within his grasp, fingers itching, warm satisfaction blooming through his skin. How often had he ruminated over the fact that you had yet to belong to him? How often had he wondered what you would look like, how you would feel under his touch? And what you might do to him when he had you in person? Would he find himself changed, however slightly, as the others in the Troupe had been? Or would he mold you with his own presence, looming over you like a shadow?

The mere thought of you is enough to get his heart racing, bring a bead of sweat to his neck. It was so unlike him, and wasn’t that a thrill?

And then, just like that, the moment is over. He recollects himself and his mouth closes and his mind whirs back into focused gear.

He needed to find you, first thing. The rest of the logistics could come later.

His eyes track the movements of the thread, and without missing a beat, he turns on his heels to follow the direction of the movement. It was possible--no, highly probable--that you were close enough to reach on foot. Within the city, certainly, and he didn’t mind the exercise.

As he continues to walk, the cold gleam of the business district turning into rows of glitzy restaurants and downtown attractions, he’s glad that you weren’t too close. It gives him more time to think about what he wants to do with you.

The Troupe members that had already found their soulmates--and Chrollo feels a surge of pride in his chest, counting himself among them now, fulfilled in that goal--had taken on different approaches.

Some merely kidnapped their soulmates and kept them in secure locations. Simple, effective in terms of security, but that would ensure it would take him a long time to win you over. And he knows that he will do just that, eventually, no matter how he decides to keep you. Others took their time, attempting to strike up something of an ordinary relationship before revealing their knowledge of the red thread, and persuading their soul mates to come with them for safety (and romance)’s sake. Surely the more appealing of the two options, but it did come with the downside of expended time and energy.

What he would do with you depended on so many factors. Did you live in some stationary location, or were you prone to travel? What did you do for a living? Were you already in a relationship, some inferior partnership with someone who could never appreciate you the way that he could, as your only soulmate?

All of these questions circle heavily in his mind as he walks, following the thread that was becoming tighter and tighter between the pair of you. The ritzy downtown buildings were now gone, replaced by rows of old buildings that had seen better days. In place of fine dining were small cafes and diners that practically exuded grease, laundromats with blinking signs, and the occasional busted out window. The scores of people walking, gabbing, waving around fancy handbags were replaced by only the occasional person walking with clear destinations in mind, eyes in front.

As the thread becomes even tighter, it leads him down an alley that most people would have surely avoided. But he doesn’t worry about the glances of the people leaning up against heavy exit doors, or the people crouching on the ground with needles against their arms. He thinks about you. Will he find you here, perhaps, curled up in the arms of a drug dealer pumping you full of toxic chemicals that flushed you with endorphins and heat? Or you might be on the other side of the needle, pocketing cash and going on your merry way?

But, no. Perhaps not. Instead of leading him further into the den of seedy dealings, the thread brings him away, feet crunching on broken bottles, towards some type of fenced-in parking lot. Or it had been a parking lot, once

From a short distance through the metal fence, he can see burning barrels, tents, carts. The smells of cooking grills waft over, greasy foods, easy to cook outdoors. It wasn’t a new sight, in this city or otherwise. Chrollo had seen worse. Had lived worse.

And then, there--at the end of the red thread that weaved in between one of the fence’s metal honeycombs: you.

He sees you for the first time and knows, with a burning intensity that threatens to knock him over, that he needs you. He needs you now. He needs you always. You have something that he lacks and perhaps possessing you will give it to him.

Is this what the others felt, when they first saw their soulmates? Or is it something unique to you and him? Some unfathomable bond that has shaken him to his core? Not for long, of course, never for long. He regains his senses within moments and catalogs the feeling away for later analysis.

It’s you that he focuses on, now. And the fact he will have you, as soon as he decides on the where, when, and how. He wouldn’t be the leader of the Phantom Troupe if he wasn’t skilled at taking what he wanted.

Today what he wants is not a gallery of paintings or a rare gruesome artifact, but a person.

You.

What to make of you?

You’re standing in front of one of the burning barrels, rubbing your hands together. They look red and chapped, even from his vintage point. Behind you is a shopping cart filled with odds and ends. On the side nearest the fire, you had clearly laid out clothes over the edge of the cart--wet ones, from rain or maybe you’d had the opportunity to wash them. Your current ensemble is a simple hodgepodge. Clearly, you wore whatever was cleanest, whatever was warmest, whatever you could find.

He remembers such a living.

You appear to be on the outskirts, avoiding the groups scattered around the encampment. No one approaches you and you don’t approach them. A loner… by choice, or not? You wouldn’t be alone for long, if it wasn’t by choice, and in time you might be grateful for it. If it was by choice, well, there were ways to tame feral cats.

It doesn’t take much analysis to decide what to do with you, to decide how best to approach things. He’s glad that he wore something casual today. Just some simple slacks and a nice sweater. If he was overdressed, it might be more difficult. Not that he couldn’t manage it, but he enjoys advantages when he can get them.

With no hesitation, he walks through one of the ragged gaps in the metal fence and begins to approach you.

Your head jerks towards him the moment that his steps become even remotely close. He doesn’t mind. It’s only natural, especially for someone who has been living the way you surely have. There’s a tugging somewhere inside him--memory of himself and connection with you.

He smiles, not broadly, but in a way meant to disarm.

“Hello,” he says, stopping a few feet away from you.

You stiffen.

“I’m Chrollo,” he continues. His voice is undisturbed and calm. As if he was meeting you on a sunny afternoon in the park while you were both buying ice cream from the same cart. That might have been a more charming meeting, he muses, but this one can work to his advantage just as easily. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

You snatch your hands back from the barrel and step, refusing to turn your back to him, behind your cart.

“None of your business,” you say.

And oh, he thinks, it would be heaven if he could somehow bottle the first time he hears your voice and listen to it on demand. But he supposes, he has the rest of his life--and yours--to hear you speak.

“That’s all right.” He gestures towards you, the cart, your life. “I see you are in need.” You frown at him, but he continues. “How would you like to go somewhere warm?”

Your lip pulls back in a sneer and you move yourself on the other side of the cart.

“I don’t do that. Fuck off.”

Ah. You thought he wanted you to--well. It wouldn’t be the first time people took advantage of others in less fortunate situations. There had been enough of that in Meteor City.

“No, nothing like that,” he says, voice going soft. “I should have clarified. I’m a… missionary of sorts. I look for people in need and offer what help I can give. I’d like to buy you a hotel room for the week.” He notices your wary expression. “Or even the day, if that would be more comfortable for you. Somewhere you can get some safe sleep, a shower, something to eat. I wouldn’t even be there.”

He recognizes the look on your face all too well. Wariness. Suspicion. The face of someone who knows that people are tricky and greedy and cruel. That people will take things that they haven’t earned. Oh, yes-- he knows all of that so well, from both sides.

And he also knows how to get your guard to drop enough for him to accomplish his goal. Sure, mistrust is essential in an environment like this. But mistrust can always be overpowered when there’s something essential within reach. Like comfort. Or food. A warm place to stay, even if it’s just for a few hours. A private bathroom, a toilet, a tub.

“I don’t know,” you say, finally, having given him the appropriate stare down.

He nods his head.

“I understand. I would feel wary myself, in your position. It’s perfectly reasonable.” It is more than reasonable, he thinks, but you don’t need to know that. You just need to believe that coming with him will be worth your while, worth ignoring what he’s sure is a growing pit in your stomach.

“What I would like to do is accompany you to a hotel where I often book rooms for those in need. It’s a private room, of course. And I will pay for your meals.” He sees the gears turning in your mind at the promise of a bed. The promise of food. “I have my own room in the hotel, but it’s on a different floor, and I won’t have to see you at all,” he adds, and this is how he will make you step over that cautionary line. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Everything is pre-paid on my card, of course, and you’re free to order whatever you’d like. What do you say?”

He lets his words hang in the air, wafting like smoke from the nearby barrels.

You wet your lips. You glance around at the people around you. A few of them have taken notice of Chrollo, perhaps as a mark, perhaps more; but he pays them no mind. He could kill them in a fraction of a second and whisk you out of here just as easily, if he needs to… But he hopes it will not come to that.

“All right,” you say suddenly, softly. “If… you’re just going to give me a room and feed me, then all right.”

Chrollo smiles. It is, he thinks, perhaps close to a genuine one.

“Wonderful. Follow me, if you please.”

The hotel is expensive, but thankfully not terribly ostentatious. Chrollo would hate to put you off by throwing you into some gilded lion’s den. But the hotel is more reserved, classy. Comfort and luxury without any of the ridiculous trappings that often come with them.

Chrollo does bring you with him to the front desk, if only to reduce the chances that the security will kick you out for looking out of place. And you do look out of place, but perhaps that’s for the better. It will make you appreciate what he’s going to do for you more, won’t it?

You’re quiet all the while, but that’s to be expected. You only hold tight to your backpack, where everything you hold dear has been crammed, and let him do the talking. A reservation is easily made under the guise that only you are to know the room number--you certainly don’t need to know that he’ll swing back and reserve the connected room next door--and the key is given without fanfare from the polite desk clerk who gives you curious glances but nothing more.

Chrollo walks you to the elevator, ever the gentleman, and hands you the key. You stare at it. The uncertain expression on your face is unbelievably precious, he thinks. He hopes he can see more of it before it inevitably morphs into shock and anger and fear.

“Would you like some new clothing?” Chrollo asks, after he pushes the button on the elevator for you. “I can have some sent up from the hotel’s boutique. I’ll tell the front desk, so they can give the concierge the room number. Ah, and I’ll need to know your size, if you’re willing to give it.”

“You want to buy me clothes?”

You almost splutter out the words, and he has to restrain himself from kissing you right then and there. You are terribly cute, and there’s a slight disturbing tinge to how much he finds everything about you enticing so quickly. The way you furrow your eyebrows at his question. The slight look of embarrassment, the twitch of your lips.

He needs you so much, and he’s only known you for a few moments.

You tell him your size, then glance at him before staring at the glossy metallic doors. “Um, I need something warm. No useless stuff.” Your head gestures back towards the hotel lobby, where a few women are walking on the arm of male companions, dressed in sleeveless dresses and likely heading for the restaurant.

“Of course.” Chrollo does not tell you that he can envision you wearing all sorts of useless things in the future his mind is creating, brick by brick. You would look heavenly in something strapless, something slinky. Something that hangs off your shoulders. He would drape a fine wrap over them, were you behaving enough to go out with him--no one else but him will be privy to such delicacies.

For now, though, he resolves to send you the clothes he knows you want. Things will be a little more seamless if your guard isn’t entirely raised.

The elevator doors open.

Chrollo steps aside, and gestures for you to enter.

“This is where I take my leave. I will let the restaurant host know your name, and you can order whatever you’d like. It’s on my card. Please, don’t feel the need to hold back.”

You take a step inside the elevator and ah, there it is. Just the slightest hesitation. The slightest jerk of your head as you look back at him. Do you feel bad, leaving him in a lurch when he’s giving you charity? Do you feel beholden to him in some way?

“I guess it’s okay if we share a meal. You’re paying for it, anyway. It’d be awkward otherwise.” You stare down at the elevator carpet as you say the words, and Chrollo realizes that he’s perhaps misjudged the gesture. Your sense of shame, maybe, outweighs your desire to be rid of him and his potential alternative motives for assisting you.

That might come in handy.

He nods, as you turn around and make brief eye contact with him.

“Well, then. How about we meet here in 5 hours for dinner? I can send something dressy to your room, if you’d like.”

You shrug your shoulders as the doors close, which is as good as assent in his view. The string on his finger rises with the elevator, but now there is no fear that he’ll lose you. The string, something which had been maddening in its slackness for so long, is now something of a treasure itself. A little leash, keeping you to him, wherever you go.

Which, for now, is your hotel room--meaning he needs to get moving. He won’t pick anything too flashy out from the boutique; something modest, something simple. There are delicate steps to take to avoid making you feel ashamed without offending your sense of dignity all in one go.

Thankfully--for you and himself--he’s attuned to such needs.

5 hours. That would give you enough time to take a shower or bath, to change into the fresh clothing he’ll send up, to take a nap. Perhaps you’ll stare out the hotel window at the view or curl up in the bed, rolling on the fresh sheets.

Five hours would give you time to freshen up and relax, yes. And it would give him enough time to get hold of Shalnark and procure anything he needs to make your removal from the hotel as smooth as possible.

The shower is running again. He doesn’t blame you. He remembers days where a hot shower was a luxury beyond imagining.

He keeps his side pressed against the door connecting your rooms--not that you know he is on the other side with a key to yours, of course--and holds back a contended sigh as he watches the red string on his finger twirl and shift with your every movement.

What are you thinking about? He wonders. Are you thinking about how long it’s been since you had a hot shower? Are you thinking about slipping the shampoo bottles into your backpack?

Perhaps more inviting… are you thinking about him?

He knows what’s on his mind, and has been for the last few hours now. You.

What were you like, deep down, underneath your layers and justifiably guarded stance? Maybe you liked to read, maybe you once had a dream of being a dancer before life went to hell, maybe you were shy, maybe you liked to get drunk and sing your favorite songs at full volume.

What would you be like, once you were fully his?

What do you look like, underneath all of your clothing? What has nature and nurture shown fit to bestow upon you, your skin, all those secret places you keep hidden?

The thread bobbles again. Are you stepping out of the shower soon, or still scrubbing yourself? You’re so vulnerable, naked and unawares, just a few feet away from him. The water running is a delicious sound to his ears, because he knows that you’re underneath it.

He imagines what you might look like naked. He imagines what sounds you might make, underneath him, gasping and--

Oh, but he’s getting ahead of himself. He smiles and shakes his head at the rush. He should slow down, yes. Slow down and savor it all.

He clenches both of his hands. In one is the duplicate key, in the other is a syringe. Both go into opposite pockets, awaiting their respective time to shine.

The dress that arrives at your door with a prim knock from a porter is not quite what you expected--which is a relief. You expected the stranger to send up something ridiculous. Something slinky and glittering, maybe with only a half shoulder.

But instead it’s a simple dress with a flared skirt, all made from dark blue fabric. The sleeves are elbow length, the neckline isn’t too low, and there’s a matching black belt to go with it. He’s even sent up a pair of nylons, which are something you haven’t worn since you were a little kid, desperately trying to mimic your mother’s fancy outfits.

He also--and maybe this is overkill--sent up a few pairs of shoes in different sizes, along with a transcribed note instructing you to call the front desk if none of them fit, or simply wear your own shoes if you are uncomfortable with it.

This stranger--Chrollo--is awfully accommodating. And kind. And considerate.

Which is exactly why, when the dress is on and your nylon-clad feet are resting in the shoes easiest to run in, you tuck your switchblade into one of the dress pockets for safekeeping.

Maybe he is just kind. Or he’s one of those people that makes themselves feel better by occasionally being charitable; he’s harboring some sort of guilt that can be alleviated, however temporarily, by buying a person a sandwich or two.

But maybe he’s not. You’ve known people who have been hurt or killed or sometimes worse by so-called charitable people. People that lure you in with showers and hotels, meals and clothing. People that slit your throat before or after they have their way with you.

Life was dark and life was shit, and you weren’t born yesterday. If this stranger had any nefarious intentions, you certainly weren’t going to walk into them like a bleating lamb.

And yet, and yet… some part of you wanted to believe he had good intentions. You’re not sure why, exactly. You weren’t the type to look on the bright side or always see the good in people--or at least, you hadn’t been that way since childhood. Yet something about this Chrollo made you hope that he was a good person. That you’d have a nice conversation and he wouldn’t do anything more than give you a nice afternoon and a place to sleep comfortably for a bit.

It was an almost primal feeling, which made it all the more stranger. Your gut feelings usually told you something like: this place is dangerous, this guy’s probably got a gun, that alley’s too notorious to use as a shortcut.

Your gut didn’t give you silly notions, like wanting to trust someone, hoping they would talk to you during dinner, wondering if they’d be pleasant to be around for longer.

At least, not before today.

“And the lady will have the cailles aux raisins.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Quail,” Chrollo says, allowing the waiter to take the leather-bound menu from his hands. As if your issue was with the choice of food--okay, you didn’t know what it meant, but still--and not that he ordered for you. “Stuffed with shallots, grapes, liver, and ah, I believe, some cognac, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s correct, sir,” the waiter says, not giving you a second glance--you didn’t even get a menu, which irked you, but considering you had nothing to pay with and perhaps the hotel staff knew it, it was a practical snub.

Your lips twist into a frown, although you suppose you can’t complain. The dish does sound good. Not that you’ve ever had quail. But it can’t be that different from chicken. Or duck. You had duck, once, as a kid. Your mother brought you to a hotel just like this for a Mother’s Day brunch and you sat at a table with an embroidered cloth and wore a pair of your mother’s white gloves, so that you would look extra fancy.

“I apologize,” Chrollo tells you. “I should have asked your preference first.” The strangest part is how sincere he sounds, like he really didn’t want to offend you. Like he actually might be interested in what you want to eat. Part of you can appreciate that, and part of you wants to finger the handle of your knife inside your pocket.

“It’s fine.” You shrug it all off. Because you can, and you choose to--but also because you’re famished and the smells wafting from the other tables is enough to make your stomach growl. “People usually don’t order things like this for me, anyway. If they do give me anything.”

Chrollo tilts his head slightly, looking at you like a particularly interesting painting on a wall. “No?”

You smile thinly. “Nope. I’m lucky if I get someone’s leftover fries from a fast food shop.”

“What a shame.” He places both hands on the table, clasping his fingers together. His gaze bores into yours. You look away, briefly, but find yourself wanting to look back. How odd. “I’m sure,” he begins, talking slowly, measuring out his words, “that must be demoralizing--to be treated as lesser-than.”

You can’t help the snort that comes out your nose, or the quick words that follow. “Yeah? And what would you know about that?” Your eyes rake over his outfit, your mind whirls over how much money he’s spent on you alone, as if it was nothing. A drop in the bucket. Some rich man playing with his money. Or daddy’s money, depending on the circumstance.

Of course, you expect him to get offended. You expect him to call you ungrateful and cancel the order and ship you out of here like yesterday’s trash. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has gotten angry that you didn’t play into their savior fantasies. Your muscles even prep to stand, your face goes stony, ready to block the anger that he’ll throw your way.

Only... none of that happens.

His face looks--it’s hard to describe, really. It’s almost like it glitches for a moment, and you see something you weren’t meant to see. You’re not even sure if he realizes it. And then his expression gets so remote and so quiet. He looks away from you for perhaps the first time, looking instead, at his hands.

“I know a lot about that, actually.”

It’s not offense in his expression but… sympathy? No, that’s not it either. You know “sympathy face” like the back of your hand, for all the good it does you.

It’s empathy. Trace, but there. A shared experience between you. Maybe that’s why you’ve felt inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt all day. Why you went with him in the first place, hunger pangs aside.

“So you’ve been…” You begin, but is there a need to finish. He’s been homeless, or something like it. Downtrodden. On the bottom.

He nods.

“Sorry.” The word comes out blurted but soft. Well, I’m an asshole, you think.

He smiles at you, a soft, thin thing--almost like a gloss that covers up his previous expression. “No, don’t be. You had no way of knowing, dear.”

Dear.

The word hangs between you silently, as if it’s being dangled on some sort of invisible string. He opens his mouth slightly--maybe to apologize--but shuts it when you don’t say anything. Instead, he simply blinks, and watches you.

Perhaps a minute ago you might have bristled at the nickname, might have sought to cut it right down, in fact. But for now, you brush it aside. He’s being nice--he knows what you’re going through. And sure, there’s some sort of guilt relief in his actions, but it’s not coming from the place of a rich man making himself feel better. It’s coming, you think, from a place of not just knowing where you’ve been but having been there himself.

Before either of you can speak, the waiter returns with your appetizer and despite the guilt in your gut, your hunger practically sings at the sight of the plate of bread and butter. It’s fancy bread, already cut, gleaming with what smells like garlic butter spread over the top.

The flavored butter is shaped like a rose and it’s only after you childishly dip your bread right into it and take a loud, chewy bite of the delicious goodness that you realize you’ve committed a faux-pas. There’s a tiny butter knife on the plate, obviously meant to delicately smear the butter onto your bread. And here you are, gnawing on the piece like some sort of medieval peasant during a bad harvest.

A pang of shame tingles over you. It’s a silly kind of shame--inconsequential, really. Who cares how you eat bread at some hotel you’ll never step foot in again in your life? But it lingers terribly. Until Chrollo picks up a piece of brand and dips it right into the butter, too, taking a chewy bite with far less graciousness than you imagined with his sophisticated appearance.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” He asks, not even bothering to cover his mouth.

You smile. You almost-snort. And the shame dissipates like ice crystals on a sunny day, as you and Chrollo both finish off the appetizer. He lets you eat more without saying a word, which you appreciate.

There’s a lot to appreciate about him, really. He’s been kind. He hasn’t been terribly condescending, dinner order notwithstanding. And he seems to know how to approach you with actual empathy and not just the sticky, coddling sympathy that most people do.

And you won’t lie--he is nice to look at. He even smells nice, but with the amount of money he had to spend on the clothing he sent up to your room, he can likely afford to buy expensive cologne.

If he notices you staring, he says nothing. Instead, he half-closes his eyes and appears to be deep in thought. Over… you? Or dinner?

He hums a bit under his breath, and you realize: it’s the music. It’s a delicate song being played by a small group of musicians set up on a stage in the corner. It’s familiar… your brain strives to catch up with your ears.

“You like this song?” You ask, because the silence has stretched too long, and the bread is now gone.

Chrollo opens his eyes and regards you with a sober smile. “Yes.” He pauses, then. “It’s--”

“Elgar's Chanson de matin,” you blurt, before he can. “I know it.”

His eyes widen, just a tad. Enough to show that he’s curious. A funny bit of pride thrums through you. It can be retribution for the quail earlier, you decide.

“You’re familiar with his work?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, even though you don’t get the sense that he asked to be cruel. He seems actually interested. Like he wants to know you. It’s nice, and confusing, and a little startling.

You nod, wishing there was more bread to break up the conversation. “What, you think someone like me can’t be interested in classical music?

“Of course not.” He answers swiftly, resolutely.

He reaches his hand towards yours and grasps it before you can think to pull away. It seems silly to yank your hand out of his, so you don’t. Even if the way he looks down at your interlocked fingers makes goosebumps dance up your arm.

His expression is so strange. He looks… lonely. And desperate. And relieved. But why?

Both of your gazes meet for one electric moment and for that moment, you feel like he sees you. And you see him. Not as clearly. But you see something inside him that is not quite on the surface. Something which does make you pull away, but not with distaste. You withdraw your hand from his slowly, like he’s a wild animal that you don’t want to startle.

The waiter, impeccable timing as ever, arrives with the main courses just as your hand makes its way into your lap.

And just like that, the spell is broken. Ripples of water dash whatever it was between you, and he’s speaking charmingly to the waiter, who appears swiftly again with a glass of champagne for each of you. You weren’t intending to drink, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt. It could calm your nerves.

Neither of you talk much for the rest of dinner. It’s not tense, exactly, but you can tell there’s something in the air. Questions unspoken, maybe, or just an awkwardness between two strangers who seem to both understand and misunderstand each other in equal measure.

The hotel’s restaurant begins to thin out after your main courses are taken away. A dessert menu is brought, and Chrollo orders a simple slice of cake for both of you.

Real vanilla bean frosting is on your lips when you ask your question. Quiet, but with most of the other guests gone, he has no trouble hearing it.

“So you were… homeless, before?”

You’re not sure why you need to know this. To confirm that he’s not some rich boy playing with his father’s money? To see how much he can really understand you? Maybe the champagne went to your head. You don’t normally drink, it wouldn’t be impossible.

His fork stalls as the question comes out. He glances up at you and there’s nothing offended or hurt in his eyes. He seems to weigh his answer before he gives it. It doesn’t really surprise you; he could be just as mistrustful of you as you are of him, couldn’t he?

“Something like that.” He rests his fork on his plate. “I suppose you are trying to decide just how much I can sympathize with your… situation.”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you’re grateful the water brought another glass of champagne that you can sip from to loosen the tightness in your chest.

If he notices your flushed countenance, he doesn’t remark on it. You like him better for it. He continues speaking, looking at you with a measured expression. Like before, his words come slowly and carefully, given to you with something akin to grace.

“Our situations were not exactly similar. I don’t find it terribly useful to compare them. Better in some ways, worse in others. Like anything.”

“Better?” You dab at your mouth with a napkin.

“Ah.” He seems to weigh his next words with even more scrutiny before he decides on them. “I had something you didn’t, which surely benefited me.”

“Which was?”

There’s something wistful in his voice now. It makes you lean forward over the table. With most of the other guests gone, it feels strange to talk so openly about clearly delicate matters. Chrollo mimics your lean, and while he doesn’t take your hands across the table into his, you get the feeling he’d like to, if you let him.

“Companionship,” he says simply. The word settles in the air like a brick that seems to land right on your chest. You blink and feel the beginnings of tears in your eyes. You really did have too much champagne, and this is all getting to be a lot. You start to lean backward when he speaks again.

“Aren’t you lonely?”

“No,” you lie. The shock of the question does make you lean back fully. Then, to be spiteful. “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer. He only looks down at his hands and the empty spot where yours used to be, and then back at you.

Nothing more is said on the matter. He pays for the meal and leaves a nice fat tip for the waiter--who has, you think, been lurking nearby either to witness your drama or to make sure no one swipes his tip from the table--before escorting you back to the elevators.

Shame slams back into you while you’re standing in front of the elevator doors.

“I’m sorry.” Sure, he asked it first, but fuck--you hate being rude. If you were rude. It was hard to tell how Chrollo felt about anything. The champagne making your head fuzzy doesn’t help. Not at all.

He tilts his head a little. “What for?”

Your eyebrows furrow together. “You know, for asking… for being…” You wave your hands around a little. It’s too hard to put into words. You’re tired, you feel out of sorts, and you’re tipsy bordering on drunk. You can give yourself some forgiveness in a lack of coherency in this matter, at least.

Chrollo regards you for a moment before he shakes his head, scoffing a little as he smiles.

“For being yourself? Or at least showing some small part of it to me? I don’t mind.” He holds out his arm and you, unsteady champagne fuzz in your head, take it. “I’ll escort you to your room, if that’s all right. I don’t feel comfortable letting you go there alone.”

You should tell him that you’ll be fine. You should. But the champagne in your brain and the way you feel drawn to him--however slightly--makes “should” fly out the window. So you nod and let him lead you into the elevator, where the ride up makes you dizzy enough that Chrollo has to steady you carefully, and you mumble out another apology.

He only chuckles a little and helps you walk out of the elevator without stumbling over the threshold. Your room is just down the hall and he keeps a steady grip on you the whole way, even though you’ve told yourself that you won’t stumble anymore. It feels weird, to have someone so close to you; to smell his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin.

It feels weird, yes, but giddy too. He is handsome. And he did buy you dinner. And clothes. And he’s not as shitty as you thought he might be at first. The way he ate the bread in solidarity with you earlier--you can’t forget that, can you? It was… cute, even. If someone like Chrollo could be called cute.

Is it the champagne, the newness of this stranger-but-not-entirely, the rich disarmament that comes with a full stomach and freshly washed face? All of the above? Whatever it is, it’s got you thinking too much about Chrollo as he gently takes the key from your hand and opens your hotel room door.

A gentleman, he only sees you just inside before taking his leave, promising to meet you for breakfast in the morning--if you’d like.

You would like, you tell him, and the door shuts and locks swiftly afterwards. Chrollo’s cologne lingers in the air, or maybe it rubbed off on you from all the steadying he had to do.

The hotel room is just as you left it. Clean and pristine, smelling vaguely of lemon. Your duffel bags and personal belongings are shoved in the corner. Maybe you’ll try to read one of your books tonight, before you sleep? It would be the first time you read on an actual bed in ages. Maybe you could even call for room service? A little midnight snack? It’s not like Chrollo would mind, or at least, he probably wouldn’t. It’d be something small anyway, nothing wild.

Unless you wanted a bubbly nightcap.

Full of ideas, you take your giddy champagne self back to the bathroom to change into pajamas that he sent up earlier, humming Elgar’s Chanson, thinking about bread and quail and… Chrollo. The knife in your dress pocket gets left on the bathroom counter. It was silly to bring it, now that you think about it.

Still humming, you flop on the bed and grab the menu for room service. It wouldn’t hurt to order some extra dessert. And another glass of champagne. Maybe two…

You’re so out of sorts that at no point for the rest of the night, before your weary head hits the soft pillow, do you stop to wonder how Chrollo knew your room number.

There are few things Chrollo truly regrets in his life. One of them, he knows, will be that he couldn’t plant himself in this town for a few months in order to properly court you; to introduce you, gradually, to the concept of nen. To the knowledge that you were his soul mate.

But it can’t be helped. He has to leave tomorrow night, come hell or high water. And he certainly won’t let you drown here a moment longer. It’s for your sake. You’ll come to realize that eventually, just as you will--in time--come to forgive him for what he must do.

You’ll no doubt regret letting down your barriers in the morning. But if you hadn’t been so keen to trust in someone, to trust in him, then he wouldn’t have gotten to see something of the real you underneath all of that built-up survival instinct. And didn’t you see something of him, too? He thinks you did. Just a moment, a spark, but it was there.

You sweet thing. He could hear you humming through the door earlier; heard you order room service (champagne and desserts) and he regretted not having Shalnark swoop in during dinner to set up some security cameras.

The key to your room feels heavy in his hand. On this side, he is simply himself, staring ahead as the red thread of his soulmate leads away from him. But once he turns it into the lock and quietly opens the door, there will be nothing between you but sleep.

He opens the door and relishes in the way the thread sags even further downward. If only you could have seen how beautiful the thread looked during dinner, all tangled up as he clasped your hand in his. That’s how the thread was meant to look. Not tight and taut and unforgiving.

You’re fast asleep when he silently enters the room and unlocks the deadbolt so that Shalnark can help him remove you from the premises. Curled up underneath the covers, you look like you’re in bliss. It’s likely the first restful sleep you’ve had in a long time. Months? Years?

How awful for you, to wake up tomorrow and realize that you’re no longer in the hotel bed. And that he’s the one to blame for it. How awful for him, too, to lose his grasp on the tentatively pleasant and revealing evening you had together. But he doesn’t think you’ll be empathetic on that matter. Not for a while, anyway.

He sits down on the bed next to you and it takes a considerable amount of self-control not to curl up against you. It’s not worth the risk of you waking, although the tranquilizer in his pocket could be jabbed into your thigh early, if need be.

Besides… you’ll have a lifetime of nights together after this.

There’s no need to rush what is finally his to keep forever.

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere chrollo lucilfer #afterwitch writes

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mokulule · 7 months

Text

Take Out for Dummies - part 1

Ship: Dead on Main

“Excuse me?” Jason asked in disbelief.

“How would you describe your ideal date?” the man repeated the question calmly as if he hadn’t snuck up on Red Hood on a rooftop in the middle of the night and didn’t have two guns pointed at him by said surprised vigilante.

Jason had no idea what to think, it was absurd. Only one thing made the smallest bit of sense. After all some reporters would do anything for a story.

“Is this an interview for a gossip magazine?”

The man blinked. “No, this is for personal use only.”

Okay. That was even weirder. With that thought he holstered his guns, grabbed his grapple instead and jumped off the building. He could move his patrol elsewhere for tonight.

Oo o oO

It had been a few days, the strange encounter forgotten about as he’d quickly come across a shipment of unsanctioned drugs entering his territory; Black Mask was making moves towards Crime Alley again. Red Hood had to nip that bullshit in the bud. Just because he was more vigilante than crime lord these days didn’t mean he’d gone soft.

So, Jason had forgotten about the strange man on the rooftop and was wholly unprepared when once again he was standing on a rooftop taking a small break in his patrol and someone spoke:

“So I assume dinner is out what with the whole helmet deal, but what about chocolate?”Jason spun around heart in this throat, guns pointing towards the direction of the voice. It took a moment for him to even find him. This time he was sitting on top on the slanted roof of the stairwell.

“What the-“

“A box of chocolate could be enjoyed later, would that be a suitable gift?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Too many things to remember off the top of my head.” The man jumped down and walked towards Jason, once more showing his absolute disregard for the guns pointing at him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

That for some reason brought a smile to his face.

Somehow, Jason was the one taking a step back despite being the one holding the guns. That at least stopped the man’s advance and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry man, I guess this whole showing up on a rooftop in the dark is kinda creepy.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s just with you being you, I don’t know where else to catch you.”

Jason felt an incoming headache, and he was feeling increasingly silly pointing his guns at the man when he didn’t react to them at all.

“How about you explain who you are and what you want?”

“Oh!” He slapped his forehead as if he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. “I’m Danny, and I’ve been hired to take you out.” He smiled brightly.

Jason stared in disbelief. Who in their right mind just announced they’d been hired to kill someone, to the person they intended to-

No…

It couldn’t be…

He’d been asking about dates and chocolate. He couldn’t possibly have misunderstood take out Red Hood as take out Red Hood on a date. Nobody would be that stupid…

“Why would someone hire you to take me out on a date?”

Danny, if that was his real name, shrugged. “Maybe they thought you were stressed and needed a nice evening? I don’t know. I don’t ask questions. I just do odd jobs for money, keeps the lights on, you know?”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t believe this.

“And like this job pays extremely well for some reason, so like I’d like to do a good job of it hence the questions?”

Of course it payed extremely well, it was meant to be a freaking hit! Still could be of course, but then it was the oddest way to go about it that Jason had ever experienced and he’d taken out quite a few would-be assassins in his time.

Danny’s face fell at Jason’s continued non-responsiveness. He sighed. Then brought out a notepad and scribbled something down, before ripping off the paper and holding it out to Jason.

“Look,” he said, when Jason made no move to take the paper and still just kept his guns trained on him, “here’s my number if you change your mind. If you haven’t called back in three days, I’ll return my advance and tell them I can’t do it - no matter how sad I’ll be to see that money go.” He looked pained at the admission, but then looked back up at Red Hood with determination.

“Still please reconsider, Mr Hood, I promise I’ll show you a good time if you agree to a date.”He looked expectantly from his hand with the paper to Jason’s helmet. Jason sighed. Holstering his right hand gun he took the paper. It was indeed a phone number, above the number it said Danny with a little smiley face drawn after the name.

Danny’s face brightened into a smile.

“Have a good night then Mr. Hood, I hope to hear from you.” Danny walked backwards with a wave and promptly tripped on an empty bottle someone had left.

“Woah!” His arms windmilled and he only just saved himself from falling back and hitting his head by sheer luck as he caught himself in the sort of gravity defying pose that would win him most limbo games. He laughed sheepishly as he put a hand down and turned around to push himself back up.

“So that was embarrassing. Should look where I go, huh? Never know when you’ll be assaulted by littering…” his voice trailed off as he walked away. He threw a last wave over his shoulder before jumping onto the fire escape and beginning his climb down.

Jason was left standing on the rooftop, paper clutched in one hand, trying to comprehend the whole baffling conversation. Also there was a distinct curl of embarrassment that he’d actually felt threatened by the guy at one point.

Yeah, he wasn’t gonna unpack that. He put the paper in a pocket of his utility belt and took a running leap to the next rooftop.

Oo o oO

Jason could not believe he was actually doing this.

It was three days later. In the mean time he’d asked around his old enforcers if they heard about a guy named Danny who did “odd jobs” as he’d called it.

As it turned out, there was indeed an odd-job-Danny, sometimes just called odd-Danny, with an increasing reputation on the streets of Gotham for doing all sorts of jobs - everything from helping old ladies carry groceries home for pennies and a pat on the cheek to heavier lifting by the docks. When he asked one of the street kids about him, he was told he also helped look for lost pets for pretty rocks or whatever the kids had in their pockets at the time, and he could fix just about anything - which had to be an exaggeration, but then again the street kids weren��t prone to overly positive opinions about adults, so he’d certainly made quite an impression on them.

Yet despite a lot of people knowing about him, apparently nobody knew a last name or where he lived. It was a mystery.

All that to say that Jason was curious… and apparently doing this.

He looked down at his phone, where he’d already put in the number. His thumb hovered over the call button. He still could not believe he was doing this. If this was a trap he was apparently walking in.

With a sigh he pushed the button.

It rang three times before it connected.

“Hello?” A hesitant voice asked.

“Is this Danny?” “Who’s asking?”

“You ask me on a date and you already forgot, I’m hurt,” Jason deadpanned hoping he would catch on to it not being wise to mention Red Hood’s name on an unencrypted line.

“Oh! So is that a yes?” He piped up excitedly.

Urgh, why was it charming that that he sounded so genuinely excited?

“Yes.”

“Sweet. Did you consider my questions?”

“Nope,” Jason popped the p and found himself smirking, “gonna have to impress me all on your own.”

Danny huffed. “Have it your way. I’ll show you a good time, you’ll see. How does… Sunday afternoon work for you?”

“’s fine.”

“Meet you in front of the building we last met, at 2 pm? Also unless you wanna take the bus, maybe bring your bike? I don’t drive.”

Jason scoffed. Letting some stranger hired to kill him close to him on his bike was a recipe for disaster. Still he found himself answering:

“Sure.”

“Great! I’ll see you Sunday then.”

With those words the call ended.

Jason looked down at his phone. He couldn’t believe it. Jason, no, Red Hood had a date for this Sunday. A giddy feeling bubbled up in his chest and he couldn’t help laughing. Red Hood going on a date. It was fucking ridiculous.

Yet, he was kinda looking forward to it. -

Subscribe to the masterpost here Next

#take out for dummies #dead on main #dp x dc #this is mostly just silly #but there is also some plot #because it assaulted me in a dark alley #anyways #hope you enjoyed

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beautifulhigh · 7 months

Text

The smallest of looks is the loudest moment in the room

Just a little one from me to save me from going insane and to sate my followers...

ZAHRA: How long has this been going on?

Alex is focused on Zahra, Henry is staring off into the middle distance until Alex answers her.

ALEX: Since New Year's.

And it's that Henry reacts to. Have a close up.

Henry's gaze flicks to Alex. In this exact moment (1 hour, 5 minutes, and 41 seconds), he looks at Alex for a few seconds.

This is the moment Alex has put a start date on this thing between them.

It's a little more certain here than it is in the book:

"How long has this been happening?" "Since, um, New Year's." (page 233)

The placement of that "um" holds meaning for me - in the book Alex is hesitating before he pins a start date on him and Henry. He's trying to figure it out and that's what he goes for. Because how long has it been going on? Since they started sharing intimate thoughts and fears? Since they increased the benefits they had added to their friendship? Since the Red Room?

Nope. Alex goes for the moment when the possibility between them changed and he completely ignores the weeks of silence that happened straight after. The period of time in which Henry was full of fear over what he'd done, what Alex might do. In the book we know he runs scared, going on a public date and being photographed.

If there was a prince, and he was gay, and he kissed someone, and maybe it mattered, that prince might have to run a little bit of interference. (page 125)

We don't have anything like that in the movie but we do have the silence. We see Henry's fear when he comes into the Red Room. Not just because of the line he crossed with Alex but because he has exposed himself and his most closely guarded secret, a glimpse of his true self.

He will know that Alex isn't going to out him - they've spent long enough talking and getting to know each other for that to not be Henry's fear. And if he was then it would have happened long before the State Dinner. Henry's fear is about losing Alex, losing the friendship, losing that connection with the boy he's wanted since the Olympics/Climate Conference.

I'd put money on Henry promising himself, once upon a time, that he would never do anything to risk losing what small pieces of Alex he could have in his life. And when they start up this thing he goes in thinking that this is all he can have, all he will get.

"I thought I could have some part of you, and just never say [I love you], and you'd never have to know, and one day you'd get tired of me and leave, because I'm--" (Page 272)

Henry didn't think he would have all of Alex, at least not anything of import, that Alex wouldn't be as far in as Henry is. And yet here he is in this hotel room, declaring they have been this thing since that kiss. Since before they properly made out in the Red Room, went down on each other in Alex's bedroom, talked about "keeping things casual" before embarking on the most insanely devoted shag fest known to mankind.

Alex has been in since New Year's and he tells Zahra just that.

In the movie he is more decisive. (Just like the instant "No" when Zahra asks if it would make a difference if she asked them to stop.)

Since New Year's. Since the moment Henry kissed me and I became unable to think about anything else except doing it again. And doing other stuff.

And even though Henry ghosted him right after, even though the next thing Henry said to Alex after his apology and disappearance into the night was another apology for his behaviour, Alex has labelled that moment, that kiss, as their start.

The moment when Henry was brave.

And in the movie we get to see Henry's reaction to that. They've been discovered, things are about to blow up in a way they can't control, and Alex says that as far as he's concerned this thing between them has been going on all year.

Before the emails. Before Paris. Before the State Dinner. Alex has been Henry's since New Year's and this is the moment he finds that out.

#overthinking jen is overthinking #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #prince henry of wales #red white and royal blue #rwrb #book to movie #this was supposed to be much shorter #oh well #otp: history huh

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flamingpudding · 6 months

Text

Fictober23 Prompt: 22 - "Who takes care of you?"

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Originally Cass was supposed to be the one picking up Danny... but I was not confident enough in that deleted part and so Dick's part ended up getting changed and being the last one instead.

Damian blinked at the child sitting at the playpen of the rescued kittens. He was sure there hadn't been anyone before besides this was a restricted area. Only volunteers and the actual workers of the animal shelter were allowed here. He looked around the area, hoping to see someone that could identify as the child's guardian but he was alone in the room with the child and kittens.

"How did you get in here?" He bluntly asked but the child was apparently ignoring him. The boy's back was turned to him and Damian's eyes narrowed. The child was wearing a slightly oversized NASA shirt as well as ratty looking shorts. He had black hair that appeared to be slightly unkempt with a length just enough to prevent Damian from seeing the child's eyes. He stepped over the knee high kitten fence towards the child but then stopped.

The boy was holding one of their smallest kittens they had rescued two days ago. The kitten had refused any milk or food they had offered it. Damian had planned to try and convince it to eat something before the workers would be forced to attempt force feeding. But the boy was holding it and one of the milk bottles was only used for the youngest of kittens. It was eating.

The small child was mumbling something to the kitten and Damian believed he picked up some of the words being: 'You're safe now.', 'I know it hurts but you gotta eat.', 'Being lost is always scary.', 'I am sure everyone is worried.'.

Under normal circumstances Damian would be suspicious of this boy but right now he was more relieved that the little one they all had been worried about was finally eating something. He would have to thank this little boy and his guardian. Maybe the boy even planned to give that little kitten a home with him.

With a small fond smile Damian decided to let the boy be and turned to feet the other kittens that were already excitingly climbing up his leg for their meal in his hands. He hadn't watched the child for less than five minutes but when he turned back to ask that child about his guardian.

The boy was gone. The feeding bottle was propped onto the fence in a way that allowed the little kittens to still feed off it. It was like the boy had never been there. Damian hadn't heard the door of the room open and close either. Nor the typical rustling of clothes when one stands up. He narrowed his eyes at the spot where the child had been.

Even when asking the other volunteers and workers. No one else appeared to have seen the child he had described to them.

—-

Tim blinked at the boy that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Or maybe Tim had been too tired to realize that he had sat down into a booth that was already taken when he had ordered his coffee. The child didn't appear to pay him any mind, to focus on a piece of paper they were drawing on with green crayons.

Tim looked around the coffee shop trying to spot who this child belonged to but found no one. Now the most responsible thing would probably be to alert one of the store workers about a possible abandoned child, get in contact with the authorities and make sure the child would be returned to his rightful guardians or parents.

The problem was, Tim was sleep deprived and had his own fair share of abandoned child issues as well as having seen enough corrupted authorities trafficking children like that.

"Hey there, what are you doing?" He asked the kid instead, black shaggy hair hung into the kids eyes and the head moved only so slightly indicating that the child had heard him.

"Drawing a blueprint." The boy mumbled and Tim arched an eyebrow.

"With crayons?"

"This is the only shop that gave me this for free so I wouldn't have to attempt to steal a pen and paper."

Tim hummed studying the boy more closely and his drawing more closely now. He arched an eyebrow when among the barely readable scribes he noticed something that looked a lot like a mathematical equation.

Letting his eyes wander around the store once more before resting them on the child Tim thought about it. A child seemingly alone in a coffee shop, the only place according to the kid that had willingly given him paper and crayons to draw with. The drawing being a 'blueprint' for something and among the scribbles were some actual calculations that might make sense. He would need to take a closer look to really judge that.

"Don't you have things like that at home?"

Before he could receive an answer Tim's number got called out, telling him that his order was ready. Glancing at the kid he got up to quickly retrieve it. But when he turned back to the table to continue questioning the child he found the booth empty with no indication that anyone had been there before.

Partially Tim thought his mind might have hallucinated the boy in his sleep deprived state but a broken piece of green crayon left on the floor by the place where the boy had sat was his indication that he hadn't. Strangely enough, when he tried to check for video evidence, Tim found that all surveillance videos were corrupted.

—-

Jason was just done dealing with this drug deal when he heard rustling behind some of the warehouse crates. Instinctively he pulled out his gun. It appeared like one of these goons tried to sneak away. Well not on his watch.

But once he had silently made his way over to the crates he did not find a left over underling like he expected. No when he kicked the crate and pointed his gun it was not a grown ass man trying to hide from Red Hoods wrath, no a goddamn child rolled out of the crate clutching some metal pieces and electric cables to his chest.

"Fuck!" His first thought was that these assholes he had just beat up were not only trafficking drugs but also children, it made him want to beat the ever living daylight out of them a second time. But then the child's head tilted ever so slightly, eyes covered by his shaggy looking hair but Jason thought he saw blue peeking out between the strands of hair.

"Shit." He cursed once more hurrying to put his gun away so as not to scare the kid, before he crouched in front of the boy. "Hey there, you okay?"

His hands hovered above the boy's shoulders, close enough to catch the kid should he fall over but not too close to make the boy feel threatened. Looking the kid up and down, Jason tried to see if there were any injuries on the boy.

"No! The circuit board I found is now cracked! What a waste!" The boy held up a clearly cracked and broken piece of electronics with one hand, his other arm was still clutching some cables and metal to his chest.

Not the reaction he was expecting but Jason could find a way to roll with it. "Bummer huh? Want me to show you a place where we could get a perfectly good one?"

The boy was grumbling something inaudible and threw the piece of broken electronics to the side, instead picking up something else that had rolled out with the boy from the crate. Jason watched how the boy, clearly ignoring his question, picked up what looked like a piece of surveillance equipment and inspected it.

"I guess that thing will do. No one will miss it if one of them is gone, right?"

"One of them?" Jason questioned looking at the little transmitter in the kids hands. The boy appeared to finally pay attention to him, turning his head ever so lightly up to look at Jasons. "Yea there are a bunch of these in all the boxes."

He narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder and shouted at his men. "HEY! Get someone to look at this stuff! They bugged the place!"

When he turned back towards the boy he found kid gone. Jason blinked in disbelief, his hands which had been hovering over the kids shoulder were now above an empty spot.

"Where the fuck…?!" He stood looking around the warehouse and around all the boxes and crates. But the kid was nowhere to be found. He cursed several times and had his men looking in the surrounding area but there was no trace of the child.

All that was left from his encounter with he child was that piece of broken electronic the kid had thrown to the side. Not even his helmet had retained any footage. The video one loaded onto his laptop to review it, turned out to be corrupted. So now he couldn't even print out a picture or something of the boy.

—

By now the meetings of his siblings with a small black haired boy had made the rounds in their family. While Damian, Tim and Jason appeared to have had the biggest meetings with the child they weren't the only ones. Once the topic has come up, Steph, Duke and even Cass shared small stories of having met a child with the same description.

Dick had then pouted a little, lamenting that he was the only one that hadn't gotten to meet this strange kid that appeared out of nowhere and then also disappeared like he never had been there. His siblings had only stared at him unimpressed.

Well either way it looked like Dick was getting his wish after all. If Damian hadn't mentioned what the kid was wearing and Jason hadn't added that the kid appeared to be collecting electronics Dick might have overlooked it when he had jumped from roof to roof.

But as it was he caught a little boy trying to drag an old washing machine tied with rope into an empty building. It had made Dick pause and stare at the situation long enough to realize that the kid fit the description his siblings had given him before perfectly.

On instinct he wanted to jump down and talk with the little bugger but he was also curious of what the boy was doing so he watched a little more and he was quite impressed. The child must possess some strength because after a while the kid had dragged the washing machine into the building.

Spotting an open window Dick decided to sneak in that way to continue to observe. Once in though he blinked at what he saw. The kid had built a lab out of scrap metal. There was also something that looked like an arch the boy was clearly working on but holy moly. Tim probably wasn't too far off with his boy genius on the run theory.

But looking around more Dick also noticed that the place did not look lived in. Sure there was this giant self made lab area but everything else looked very much abandoned. He glanced around and snuck into another area finding a mattress, bedding and a backpack with a thermos as well as a couple of packs of snacks but no actual food.

Dick frowned at this. Even if the boy was a child genius, this was no way to life for someone his age. He looked over his shoulder towards the entrance of the area he was in. In the distance he could hear metal clanging. Looks like the kid was already working on dismantling the washing machine he had dragged in.

He reached out to the backpack, looking into it carefully but found nothing but a second set of spare clothes and what looked like an old self made flip phone. He should feel guilty but he wanted to make sure of things, so Dick flipped the phone open, checking if it was on. What greeted him was the image of a teenage boy that held similarities to the child getting hugged by what appeared to be the teenager's friends with a red haired girl behind them.

Frowning more, dick decided enough was enough. He openly walked to the lap area where the child was currently sticking his head into the washing drum. "Hey there kid!"

He winced hearing how the boy apparently banged his head on something and let out a storm of curses that would probably make Jason proud or all of his siblings frown. Leaning over the washing machine he smiled at the kid as the boy glared up at him rubbing his forehead. Ouch there really was a bump forming. He will ice it later.

"You're one of Gotham's vigilantes, Nightwing." The kid muttered but Dick caught the hand sneaking to the side reaching for a heavy looking wrench.

"That I am and you're a little kid working in a self made lab. Where are your parents and or guardian?"

"Don't have any here." The kid was now full on glaring at him. Why was he getting the not as friendly treatment? Sure that's better than the way his siblings had described the boy ignoring them but he hadn't done anything bad to the kid yet.

"If you don't have any, who takes care of you?" He then asked, still all smiles and friendly despite internally being very worried about this child's wellbeing.

"I take care of myself. I am not doing anything illegally. Everything I got here was thrown away by other people! You can't arrest me!" The boy hissed and hadn't Jason and Cass said they saw the child's eyes being blue? Why did he just see green peek through the bangs of the kid?

"Hey, hey, hey! I am not here to arrest anyone! I promise!" He held his hands up but the boy still glared at him. "But if you are alone here, you know I can't just let you be right?"

"No, you can!" The boy sprang up holding the wrench like a weapon in front of him. "I am perfectly fine on my own and working on a way back home! You can just leave me alone and act like you never saw me!"

Dick shook his head. The boy appeared to be stubborn and set on not having anyone interfere with whatever he was building. But Dick, in good consciousness, couldn't just leave like nothing was going on. His siblings had also voiced worry for this child. So he was going to try to negotiate something with the kid, and if that didn't work… Well Dick could always pull a Bruce and bring the kid home and into his care anyway. "Sorry little guy. No can do, but if you tell me more about your situation maybe I can help you get home?"

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jaehunnyy · 5 months

Text

time's the charm | cs

Genre: 'hate everyone but you' trope, angst, fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Pairing: quiet-boy!San x fem!reader

Warnings: San has a sad past (nothing triggering mentioned tho), mentions of running from home, sadness, toxic men, crying, some harsh words, misunderstandings, happy ending tho!!, possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @pocketjoong-reads, @nebulousbrainsoup, @justhere4kpop, @bluisheye93, @i-luvsang, @ad0rechuu, @starillusion13

You had no idea when the quiet, ebony haired guy’s eyes started to form red hearts whenever they landed on you. You had no idea when he gathered the courage to look away from his phone, just so he could get a glimpse of your outfit that day, or your hair, anything when it came to you. You also had no idea that Choi San was capable of having feelings, and neither did he. That was the first time San pleasantly surprised someone.

There wasn’t much he knew about you. Aside from your not-so-good reputation around the campus, he also found out that you held the power to make his heart jolt in happiness, or whatever that feeling was supposed to be. The lingering feeling of warmth whenever he saw you was burning his skin, along with the electric arrows piercing through his spine—and he hated it. He hated that he couldn’t hate you, just like he did with everyone else around him. But he knew he brought it upon himself, and maybe this one time, he was willing to try and risk some things.

You, on the other hand, knew what the people around you wanted you to know about him. San didn’t talk to anyone except one person (the only person he called a friend, just because they were roommates), which is why you just let the guys in your class spill whatever harsh things they dreamt up whenever his headphones were covering his ears; except he wasn’t always listening to music, but also to the things they were saying about him—because what’s so great in lying is the not knowing.

Little did they know that instead of making you stay away from him, it intrigued you. You wanted to see behind the fluffy halo of black surrounding his head—you wanted to know the story of the blue streak that blended in between his black hairs, what music resonated through his ears every break, or what shop he preferred whenever he went shopping. Something told you there was something special about the guy. He was different from all the other ones you messed with, and as much as you didn’t want to hurt him, you were selfish enough to want him for yourself.

Love did its wonders in the last few weeks, cause San didn’t know what had gotten into him when he grabbed the smallest piece of paper he eyed and a pen, writing a short note and putting it into your locker. It was like Cupid was controlling him or whatever, and as much as his nose scrunched at the thought of those lovey-dovey things, his heart swelled with pride. He just wanted to be looked at from a different point of view, he thought that maybe, you would look at him differently.

“San? Did you just put something into y/n’s locker?” his only friend, Yeosang, asked him with a frown on his face.

San looked at him with puppy-like eyes, as he was caught red-handed.

“San… what did I tell you when you transferred here?”

The black haired guy looked at the older boy, whispering in a tiny voice: “To stay away from her.”

“Well, it definitely doesn’t seem like you are too great at it.” His friend snapped, dragging him along the hallway.

“Yeosang, she makes me feel things no one else has, I don't even know how to describe it.”

“She will make you feel some unique things when she will break your heart too.” The blonde haired guy said and left, not in the mood to argue with his friend.

San felt small again. He hated everyone for the way they treated him—for seeing him as nothing less than a fragile thing who could break in any second. When he ran away at the age of fourteen, everything changed inside the once bubbly guy. He became quiet, indifferent even, or that was just the wall he built around him from broken memories and dirty past; cause deep down, he just wanted to be loved, despite hate being the only thing he knew how to offer.

You truly wanted to get closer to him. You admired how his head bobbed to the beat of the music he was listening to, or how his lips would form a pout when he got out of words when writing a note—the same love notes that continued to grow into a pile on your desk, bringing a lopsided smile on your face whenever you thought about the dimpled guy who sent them. You saw him sticking one of them a few days ago, yet you had too much fun seeing him like this—as the cold boy who had a soft spot for you; so you acted a fool.

You weren’t as bad as everyone claimed you were; you were just giving nasty men a taste of their own poison. Call yourself a femme fatale or whatever, but you just enjoyed seeing them crawl for forgiveness after what they did; yet your little act of service brought you a title as dirty as your actions, so you could just bear it in exchange for some healed hearts. You grew tired of the brokenhearted girls around the campus, so you just made their exes approach you enough so you could break their heart; you would call it playing the hero; except it wasn’t seen the same by the ones who sided with the villains of the story.

The more time passed, the more you were getting infatuated with the quiet boy, as much as he was getting addicted to your intoxicating presence. You could say you two fell in love with the help of the innocent notes, hiding behind the sweet nothings plastered on the pieces of paper; and this little word game of yours gave San enough confidence, the moment he decided he was ready to ask you on a messy date. That was the second time he pleasantly surprised someone with his efforts.

You might be curious about who I am. Meet me today at 7pm in the park? ♡

You would have said yes, if only someone didn’t have a trump card. The moment San turned his back away from the lockers, the boy who had other plans for you took the note and stamped on it, before throwing it into the closest trash bin he found. He couldn’t let this date happen, and it sadly didn’t—which is why you weren’t aware of the guy waiting for you in the cold, tears threatening to stain his cheeks with the salty taste of loss. Was that all he was destined to? Pain? Where did he go wrong this time?

He waited and waited, and when the clock hit 9pm, he realized he should have probably listened to his friend. He was way out of your league—and still, your responses to his texts (though he supposed you didn’t know it was him), and the subtle smiles you threw in his direction, he thought that maybe, just maybe, in his world full of darkness and bad luck, you would be his lucky charm. He let out a bitter laugh the moment he felt the familiar wetness on his cheek, making him remember that instead of hating everyone but you, he should have stuck to hating everyone, including you. That was the moment he swore he would never waste his feelings on anyone, deciding that he was made to wallow in self-pity forever.

And as expected due to the circumstances, the notes stopped—and you were sad; that sad that you distanced yourself from your heartthrob activities, just to focus on the boy you grew to adore. But things changed—San changed. He didn’t look at you anymore, his once fond look turning into painful daggers whenever your eyes laid on him. His dimples were hidden deeply in his soft cheeks, making you wonder what happened. If it was your fault, if it was a false hope you had, if he was like the other ones. While you two were hurting each other with the lack of affection, the tragedy was happening under the eyes of the person who screwed it all.

You endured, and endured, until one day, you couldn’t endure anymore. When you finished your lectures, you followed San, stopping him at the nearest wall of the school and looking into his eyes.

“Why did you stop sending me notes? I liked them, San.” You whispered, looking for any sign of emotion on his face.

To say he was surprised that you knew it was him was an understatement—though it didn’t matter anymore. You were probably just trying to fool him again.

“I never sent you any notes. You must be mistaking me for someone else.” He said coldly, not even looking into your eyes. He was lying.

“I saw you sticking them to my locker, San. Please, tell me.”

He let out a scoff, followed by a mocking laughter.

“Why do you even care now? Are you going to tell the whole college now? That I am such a pathetic guy?”

“San, please!”

He looked at your pleading eyes, debating if he should give you an explanation or not. You didn’t deserve it, but his feelings made a step forward.

“Why would I try to hit on someone who would only laugh at me? You broke my heart—gave me hope, and then stamped on all my efforts to ask you out the moment you made me wait for you for two hours. And this isn’t even the biggest problem,” he paused, his sharp eyes laying on your confused face: “The problem is I can't even hate you for it. Because I know you deserve better; yet I still had some hope.”

Your eyes widened. What was this man talking about? While you were engulfed in your thoughts, he was ready to leave, but you were quick to grab his wrist, making him turn back to you, an annoyed expression on his face.

“San, let me talk.”

“About? I already know you don’t do relationships or anything, kind of learned it the hard way.” He said sarcastically, yet you knew he was as hurt as you were.

“If you truly like me, give me a chance to speak,” you begged, and you saw his stiff expression relaxing just a bit, a small nod of his head encouraging you to continue: “I don’t understand. What did you expect from me? You never asked me out!”

San frowned, knuckles so tense from the way he was clenching his fists.

“I literally did a week ago?”

You don’t recall receiving a note a week ago. You thought hard, but the last time you got a note from him, he asked you to expect something later. So, what if someone was sabotaging you, stealing the chance you had away?

“San, I didn't find any notes a week ago. I can show you all the notes I have if you want, I… kinda collect them.” You said, a small blush on your cheek—only that he wasn’t buying it this time.

And that’s when it hit you.

“San, wait—what if I never got the note? What if someone didn’t want us to happen?”

“Stop finding excuses to play with me.”

“San, I'm not, list—”

You were interrupted by a shuffling sound behind you, and that's when the culprit who was eavesdropping all this time appeared, a halo of fair hair surrounding his head as he looked down, drenched in guilt.

“It was me. I didn't want you to happen, because I was scared you would hurt my friend.” Yeosang whispered, head hung down in shame.

He never felt that small in front of San; it was always the other way around. But now, he felt like he did the wrongest thing ever, and he didn’t think he had any right to look his friend—or you, in the eyes.

“Yeosang…? Why would you even? You—you knew I was so into her, so… why…?”

“I know she hurts everyone she gets with. I wanted to prevent you from heartbreak.”

“I don't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. I just get revenge for my friends’ broken hearts by messing with their exes’ minds, and this might make me look like some sort of fuckgirl and whatnot, but this time, I fell in love. For real.”

San looked at you in awe, the light in his beautiful eyes shining again.

“Did you really?” he stuttered,

“I… I think I did, yeah.”

San wondered if it was too late to ask you out, again. And, as the invisible red thread of fate tied you to one another, you kinda read his thoughts.

“If you still want to, I would love to go out with you, Sannie.”

Sannie. The first nickname that got his heart running laps, along with the butterflies dancing a sweet dance of victory inside of him.

Yeosang’s eyes filled with hope, and he looked up at his friend, who gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder.

“Thank you for caring, Yeosang. But I am on my own now.” He said, before grabbing your hand and leaving with you.

This was San—the quiet guy who was pretending to hate everyone while waiting for the person who would look behind his intentions, who would see how much he craved to be loved and understood. He improved so much, and that was the third time San had pleasantly surprised someone—but this time, it would definitely not be the last.

After everything he had been through, he felt like the sun had finally risen on his street, the moment he first woke up with you in his arms. This was only the start of his journey to happiness, and he hoped it would last more than the suffering he went through in his twenty years of life.

Time’s the charm, and despite the hardships you two faced, he wouldn’t want it any other way. He felt invincible when he held your hand, happiness written all over his face, and he was sure that he wasn’t meant to cycle this beautiful trip alone, but with the love of his life by his side.

556 notes · View notes

writerpetals · 7 months

Text

uninterrupted | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

w; oral sex while on the phone.

Saturday mornings waking up to him is the most perfect thing. With the sun shining through the blinds to light the room, the birds chirping outside to fill the silence, and him nuzzled in your neck, arm around your stomach while you lay warm in bed it can’t get much better. It’s so cozy, making you relaxed and completely comfortable as long as he is next to you.

That is, until your boss starts ringing your phone to interrupt the perfect moment, the both of you knowing he is calling you to come in and work overtime. He shakes his head against you, not wanting you to leave the bed for at least another few hours.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching for the phone. You always were a bit of a pushover and he hates how you run anytime your boss needs you for even the smallest thing. “Hello?” You answer, trying not to sound disappointed while not looking at him to make it easier to ignore his pouting.

“Don’t do it,” he says, but you quickly hush him by holding up your hand.

“Um, hi,” your boss starts, but you know where this is going, “is it possible for you to come in today? We ran into some problems last night and we need all the help we can get.”

He can hear the man talking, already getting aggravated and wanting to take the phone himself to say no. He knows that will piss you off, though, so instead he thinks of a way to make you change your mind about letting your boss ruin your day off.

As your boss rambles on and on, giving excuse after excuse to guilt you into coming in, he sneaks beneath the covers, letting his hands guide the way over your hips and to your thighs to part them. Your eyes widen, catching on quickly to what he is doing and screaming at him in your head not to go there while you are on the phone. A simple ‘no’ would have made him stop his devious convincing, but maybe in the back of your mind you wanted the distraction. He instantly makes it easier to tell your boss to find someone else when you know your work is taking advantage of your generosity.

“Um, well, is there any way that it could wait until Monday?” You try to dodge the request, now feeling him brush a finger over your slit through your panties, up and down until finally resting on your clit to rub in a gentle motion. You bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep from making noise, not wanting your boss to think something is wrong. Jerking the covers up, you glare at him, but he is quick to pull the sheet out of your hand and back down to hide himself. You stifle a giggle behind a bitten bottom lip.

“Well, see…” Your boss begins again on a long rant about how no one else does as good of a job as you just when he decides to push your panties to the side before flicking his tongue over your clit. The moan you want to release becomes difficult to hold back, hearing your boss in your ear and feeling him between your legs. He begins tending to the increasingly swollen bud, drawing circles and making your thighs tremble around him.

“I’m, um, a little busy this morning though, sir.” Your mind can’t even come up with an excuse, too focused on how good his tongue feels at the moment and knowing you never want to leave the bed for him to stop.

And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, he slides two fingers inside your center that begins to drip from his tongue’s endless motions. A whimper escapes your body, causing you to shut your eyes tight and pray your boss didn’t hear.

Oh, but he did. “Are you okay?” His question makes your skin flush with embarrassment, or maybe it’s from the way he pumps his fingers in and out while continuing to lick, and now suck lightly on your clit. You can hear him groan down below from the satisfaction of teasing you, knowing any moment you are going to cave. The two of you already know it’s in your best interest to fully enjoy your day off.

“Yes.” Your voice squeaks a reply, now gaping and rolling your hips against his face before pulling the covers back to see him lock eyes with you, mouth buried deep between your legs and tongue diligently pleasuring your pussy. The sight before you is so hot and such a turn on, there is no way you are leaving him today. “I’m sorry. I really can’t come today.”

With that, you press the big red button on your phone to end the call, tossing the device to the side. He finally pulls away and you can’t help but whine now that you are off the phone and he has your undivided attention.

“Don’t worry,” he says, crawling up your body with a smirk on his glistening lips to whisper in your ear, “you’re definitely coming today.”

466 notes · View notes

marypaol · 3 months

Text

Tension in Potion-Making

Draco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Insecurity, jealously, possessive personality, that’s all :)

Summary: Reader and Draco have been friends since early childhood, and something stirs between them when asked to make Amortentia.

Note: For the wonderful

@just-another-reader1098

I don’t know why I struggled writing this, I deleted so much with the ending and re-wrote a bunch of options. I didn’t know how you wanted angst involved and I’m sorry I didn’t put as much as probably desired. I hope you enjoy it anyways and thank you so much for requesting!

Masterlist

___

The girl couldn’t remember her life before Draco, like he was a person that was meant to enter her life and guide her towards the right direction. Or he just happened to join her life story and happened to impact it so much.

Whatever the reason may be he was always there, either lingering in the back of her mind or by her side to make snarky remarks or complaints. She was used to it by now, however, having dealt with his attitude for years on end that nothing was new to her. If only she could replay their life together like a movie film she would then take the time to recognize what she truly had. She was beyond grateful for the boy, he kept her sane and whenever someone dared to bother her they would quickly realize who they were messing with.

Their friendship was a linger in memory ever since then but it didn’t ever die, nor did it go back to the way it was. They were kids, little mindless kids that didn’t know that being friends who goofed around and shoved chocolate frogs in their mouths would have such an impact on their lives.

She wouldn’t change one thing about it though, oh Merlin no, because it wouldn’t prove the development they’ve had over the years. Development meaning lingering touches and long glances but nothing strong enough to confront each other about.

That was the way she felt until one day in which she thought would be normal. She didn’t expect not only to be sharing Potions with the Gryffindors, but to be making the most powerful love Potion in existence.

“This is ridiculous.” Draco muttered when Snape informed them.

“I don’t see the purpose of this stupid Potion anyway; it’s not like I’m going to smell anything.” He snarled. “Like how does the House Cup have a scent?”

She kept in her laugh, shaking her head. “No, Draco. It’s about love and your deepest attraction… showing your deepest desire for an unknown person…I wonder who I’m going to smell.” She said, not being able to help but think of the possibilities.

Draco scoffed at the dream-like tone she was using, looking over at her from his cutting board.

“You? Smelling anyone? Oh please, I doubt someone would even smell you.”

A normal person talking to Draco would be hurt, but she was used to the teasing and banter that practically flooded from his mouth like water so instead she slapped him on the arm and watched in satisfaction when he rubbed the spot.

“I’m serious; I bet you’re curious about who you’ll smell.” She said back.

Malfoy scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard, but what she didn’t know was that he was more curious than ever. Did all his wants, besides wanting to prove to his father that he’s worthy, come to the idea of someone understanding and loving him? Was there someone already out there and he was about to find out who? Just by leaning in and taking a soft sniff of this bubbling liquid that the cauldron beheld? Yet the smallest sniff would give the strongest scent, revealing who he desired most.

Draco scoffed again to get rid of the thoughts and to prove his point further on how silly it was.

“Me, a Malfoy, wondering who I smell. Stupid and absurd, really, I tell you.” He mumbled under his breath. “I’ll stick my nose in there and smell the copper of the House Cup, that’s for sure.”

He watched as she nudged some ingredients towards him so he could cut them, rolling her eyes at his behavior.

“Really? Your deepest attraction is a cup made of copper?” She tested, scooping something into the Potion, watching as it bubbled and smoked from the addition to the mix.

Draco seemed to be scoffing a lot that day, because that’s what he did just then.

“No, take a joke. Obviously I’ll be smelling my own scent because everyone’s desire for me will be so strong this whole room will be able to smell it.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. Draco scowled.

“You think it’s funny do you? The facts are funny now; every girl is drooling over me and it’s absolutely hilarious to think about.”

She shook off the laugh coming up her throat, composing herself.

“What if I don’t smell you?” She tested, watching for his reaction.

His eyes stopped on hers, looking at her face with such intensity that it made her sink into her feet a little. He eyed her up and down, silver orbs seeming to absorb her appearance.

“You better.” He said simply, but it sounded like a threat, vanishing the playful banter in the air that was previously present, replacing it with think fog and tension that surrounded itself between them.

“And why should I smell you?” She bravely asked, staring right back into his eyes. He made a chop with his knife that was harder compared to the others, staring at her harder than before.

“You’re mine, that’s why.”

Hope you liked it! 🫶🏻

#draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #imagines #tom felton x reader #x reader #stories #@just-another-reader1098

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forever-rogue · 10 months

Note

Hiiii 🐻

What about an Eddie fic where they are at an award show nominated in the same category but they are exs. They ended things because right person wrong time type of deal. His career took off and hers was in the early stages.

And he wins the award and spots her in the crowd

Link for reference

https://www.tiktok.com/@editsmcu/video/7045316909562219782?lang=en

AN | I changed the prompt just a little but I hope y’all enjoy! 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Modern!Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"He's going to be there, you know," the soft tone of her voice caused you to look up from your phone as you caught her eye in the mirror. Your grip around your phone tightened as her expression turned doe-eyed, "Eddie. His band is nominated for a few awards."

You knew that, of course you did. You wouldn't admit that you still closely kept up with what was going on with him. But, despite the fact that you'd broken up almost a year ago, you still cared deeply for him.

"Oh," you swallowed the thick lump that had welled up in your throat, trying to keep the tears at bay, "well, that's alright. These things will continue to happen and I'll just have to learn to deal with it."

"You'll be okay?" She finished up your hair and settled her gentle hands on your shoulders. She gave you a tender squeeze as you nodded, "if you need anything, you can always text or call me. I'm not your hairdresser but your friend too, and I'm here for you."

"I'll be alright," you promised, heart constricting at the kindness she displayed, "I'll just have to learn how to deal."

"You'll do great, my love," her smile was gentle, "you're solid gold and one day you'll find exactly what you're looking for."

What if you had lost what you had been looking for?

"Thank you."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie was sprawled on the couch in the studio, scrolling endlessly through his social media. A heavy sigh escaped his lips despite his best efforts; he was feeling a type of way he couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t bored or tired or…anything really, just sort of down.

“Hey man,” Jeff sat down at the opposite end of the couch causing Eddie to lift his head in question, “I just heard that umm…well, she is going to be there tomorrow night.”

Eddie tried not to let his face light up entirely but it was hard not to perk up at even the smallest mention of you. His heart ached as he pictured your face; it had been so long since he’d even seen you in person. To put it quite frankly, it sucked.

“Oh?” He tried to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible but even he could hear the curiosity in his voice, “how did you find that out?”

“Seth told me,” ah. Of course their manager would know all about that, “wonder why she’s going. She’s not even a musician, just an actor…maybe she’s someone’s date or something…”

“Date?” and yeah he almost choked on that singular word. The idea of you going on a date made anger bubble in his blood, “you don’t seriously think that she’s dating someone, do you?”

“I dunno man,” Jeff shrugged lightly, “I mean…you were the one that broke up with her. And it’s been almost a year. She's going to date someone else eventually."

"I know!" He snapped, rubbing his tired face with his hands. Jeff recoiled slightly from Eddie's sudden sharpness. He knew that you were still a sore subject for him and he'd hope to negate any bad feelings by warning him that you'd be there. But now he was wondering if he'd made a mistake - maybe Eddie wouldn't even have noticed you.

"I'm sorry, Ed. You'll be alright," he offered him a tight lipped smile, "and it'll be over before we know it."

"Yeah," he replied dismissively, raking a hand through his messy curls, "let's fucking hope so."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You look amazing."

You studied yourself intently in the mirror, staring at the dark pink dress that you were currently sporting. Your mind had immediately drifted to wondering if Eddie would have liked your dress. He always enjoyed the fact that you were so opposite of him. Sunshine and rain, he'd always said, balancing each other out.

So much for that. But you tried not to dwell on the past. You'd already given into the fact that you would ever be completely over him. A part of your heart would always belong to him.

"Thanks," you smiled but it didn't quite reach your eyes. You were nervous going to the awards show tonight, even if you were just going to accompany one of your friends.

Your stylist touched up your hair and set your makeup before letting you go. After you slipped on your heels and waited for your ride, you couldn't help but go on to IG and scroll through photos of the red carpet to see who had already arrived.

Everything was fine until you reached a post that caused your heart to almost stop. There was Eddie, looking as gorgeous as ever, standing on the red carpet with the rest of his band members. You'd be lying if you said you weren't relieved to see that he didn't have a date.

Not that it mattered. Of course not. It was all peaches and he could do whatever he wanted. Even if it would break your heart a little further.

"Your chariot has arrived ," you looked up when you saw Angelica walk through the door. You let out a sigh of relief when you saw her standing there, looking as amazing as you hoped you did too, "ready to go?"

"Yup," you grabbed your bag and walked over to her but you could tell that something was on her mind, "what's wrong?"

"I…Gareth texted me a little while ago. They're already all there," she gave your shoulder as a squeeze. You appreciated all the concern but it really wasn't helping. It would have been preferable to just have everyone ignore the blatant obviousness that Eddie would be there.

"It's fine," you insisted softly, "really. I'd rather just not worry about it at all. It is what it is; he broke up with me and that's it."

"Babe-"

"Seriously," you took her hand and squeezed it gently, "let's just go and have fun."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One of the many wonderful things about Eddie was that he didn’t really care what anyone thought of him. Even as a world famous rockstar, he couldn’t really be bothered to worry about that. So he didn’t worry about the way he looked around the crowd, blatantly obvious as he scanned the sea of people for you. Unabashed and unashamed as ever.

Just when he’d almost given up, he found you. Clear across the room, looking stunning as ever and sitting among your friends. He knew them all and he knew that you wouldn’t be anyone’s date, not like that anyway, and that served to put him at ease. A silly, dopey little smile tugged up the corner of his mouth.

But then he remembered - you weren’t his. Not anymore and more than likely never again.

“You gonna keep staring all night?” Eddie’s cheeks pinked as he turned his gaze away and back to Jeff, “you couldn’t be anymore obvious!”

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed as he shifted in his seat so he couldn’t look at you as easily, “it was just one look.”

“Mhmm,” he raised an eyebrow and pulled up his phone, showing Eddie a few articles that had already popped up. All about the two of you - speculation that this meant that the two of you were back together or fans attempting to manifest it, “you’re only going to make it worse.”

Eddie folded his arms across his chest and shrugged, “it’ll be fine. Let’s just hope this night goes fast.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few hours had passed, in relative ease and peace, and you were relieved to know that it was almost over. Then you could go home, have a hot bath with a glass of wine, and get some much needed sleep.

But then the award that Eddie’s band was nominated for was announced. You listened to the announcer rattle off the nominees, heart beating wildly in your chest as you hoped that he didn’t win. It was so incredibly selfish, you knew that much, but it was just all too much at once.

Corroded Coffin won, which didn’t really didn’t come as a surprise to you or anyone else. It was a well deserved and hard fought win, and you knew it should have been them. You clapped along with everyone around you, watching the stage closely as the guys walked on, with Eddie coming up last. Suddenly it seemed like he was the only one in the room and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked good, but worst of all he still looked just like Eddie.

He hung back as the rest of the band all spoke, but you could see him scanning the crowd. When it was finally his turn, he laughed nervously before looking out into the audience and somehow managing to find you. His eyes looked with yours as a small gasp escaped your lips. You knew that he was aware that he was staring right at you. A smile spread on his face, easy and soft just like the one he’d blessed you with so many times. Despite everything that had happened you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

It didn’t matter what he was saying, you were only vaguely away of it, the moment was all that mattered. People scattered throughout the audience seemed to catch onto what was happening; you could hear them tittering about and looking at you and back at Eddie. It made your face warm up but none of that mattered. The moment belonged solely to you and Eddie.

Unfortunately it was over much too soon for your liking and the boys were herded off stage. You turned your attention back to the table and you could feel the silent questions being thrown your way. Ignoring them all you grabbed your glasses and chugged down the rest of the champagne.

What a series of unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, events.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After it was all said and done and you were ready to head home, insisting on taking a cab so and skipping the afterparty, much to Angelica’s dismay, you made your way out of the building, heels in hand. It was quiet here and allowed you a few moments to breathe and absorb all that happened.

Then you heard your name being called out. Urgently and loudly, in a voice you’d heard so many times before. You had two options - keep walking and pretend you hadn’t heard or didn’t care, or face him. You knew which one you wanted, long before the opportunity had even presented itself.

You turned around and found Eddie running towards you, his curls bouncing wildly. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of you, attempting to catch his breath.

“Eddie?” your voice was small, so soft he almost didn’t hear it. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, “what are you doing here?”

“You,” he said softly as your expression turned doe-eyed; that look always made him look weak in the knees, “miss you - had to see you.”

“You missed me?” he nodded, taking a last gasping breath before straightening up and looked at you.Your brain felt like it was turning to much as you tried to process everything taht was going, “what do you mean?”

“I fucked up,” he shrugged and threw up his arms in exasperation. He was so mad at himself for ever letting you go, “I fucked up and I lost and I just…I really fucking miss you.”

“Eddie, you’re the one that broke up with me,” you blinked back tears as he ran a hand through his messy curls, “but now you miss me?”

“I should never have broken up with you,” he shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping those plush lips you so desperately missed kissing, “biggest mistake ever.”

“Then why did you?”

“I…I thought I was doing the right thing,” he explained, “I thought I was going enough for you and with things really taking off with the band, it felt like I didn’t have enough time for you and didn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated. It seemed like the right thing at the time. I figured that maybe you would fine someone that deserves you but honestly, I really hate the fucking idea of anyone else having you.”

“Oh. Oh,” the realization crashed over you like ice cold waves, “well, I admit the idea behind breaking up with me was admirable, but deciding how I felt wasn’t exactly your choice. I never thought you weren’t good enough or didn’t give me enough of you. Eddie, I was so in love with you, nothing else mattered. We could have figured things out together - we always have. I never wanted anyone else, and no one even crossed my mind. Even now, almost a year later.”

“Really?” he choked on his question, feeling his own eyes start to burn with tears.

“Yeah,” you promised him, reaching over to give his arm a gentle squeeze, “it’s getting late. I should head home.”

“Ba - wait-”

“It was good to see you,” and you meant it. It was good to see him, and hear him out, and maybe it would serve as a bit of closure. You tried to walk away, but he held onto your hand and gently kept you from walking away, “Eddie?”

“Wait, just,” he stammered as he tried to format even a coherent sentence, “I-I love you. I’m still in love with you, I never stopped. Fuck, I don’t ever want anyone else. No one, just you.”

“Eddie-”

“Give me another chance,” those words made your mouth drop open as you blinked at him a few times, “please. I’ll do anything, just…don’t walk away. I don’t deserve another chance, and I’m an asshole, I know that. But please…one chance is all I’m asking for. I don’t think that this is the end of our story, I think that we’re-”

You caught him by surprise, cutting off his rambling by taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips to his. It was the first time you’d kissed him in so long, but it still felt so right, so magically wonderful. His large, warm hands settled on your waist as he pulled you into him and continued to kiss you deeply.

Neither of you were willing to break apart until you were both left dizzied and breathless. He pressed his forehead to yours, a smile dancing on his lips as you exchanged soft chuckles.

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson,” you whispered before pressing a kiss to his lips, “but you’re my idiot. And I think you’re right…”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve never thought about anyone else but you either,” that made his entire face light up with happiness, “and I think you and I have a very long story ahead of us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you promised, “you’re it for me, rockstar. You always have been and will be.”

“Baby,” he let out a slow breath, feeling like he was able to properly breathe for the first time in a long time. He took your face and peppering it in kisses, causing you to giggle at the ticklish sensation, “let me take you on a date. Let’s go right now.”

“It’s almost one in the morning-”

“And our favorite diner is open 24/7,” and yeah. You were in love with this fool, “and I don’t know about you but I’m starving. The little bits of fancy food they served were definitely not enough. Whaddaya say?”

“Let’s go,” you moved to slip your heels back on but Eddie stopped. He kneeled down and motioned for you to get on his back; you laughed but did so nonetheless, climbing onto his back as he held onto your heels. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder before closing your eyes and inhaling his familiar scent, “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, baby. So fuckin’ much.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #rockstar!eddie #joseph quinn #st

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cultofdixon · 4 months

Text

I’ll remind you everyday if I have to

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • It’s the smallest of things to startle a person, but thankfully you have someone to always make sure you’re okay • ANGST/SFW • TW: Anxiety Attacks

Requested by: Anon

Anything does it

Loud noises

Yelling

Door slams

Motorcycle engines starting

Walkers trying to claw their way in

Loud snoring if the source is unknown

Honestly, if you made a joke about something breathing and it triggering Y/N’s anxiety…most would think that’s true. She may not be outwardly expressive with her anxiety attacks but one knows she’s having one if she’s disappeared for a period of time.

Her infamous hiding spots are under tables. Carl found her in the closet once when they first arrived to Alexandria and the new people were overwhelming so no one really dared to drag her out. Not that anyone would given Daryl is usually the one to take care of these moments but there were situations where Y/N had to be dragged out of the comfort of hiding.

The farm fire

Governor attack 1

Prison outbreak

Governor attack 2

The Claimers

Terminus

The chapel

The hospital

The barn

Y/N got creative a few times with her hiding spots during the periods where they were moving a lot. But now the group resides in Alexandria and after a few days Y/N left the living room closet sticking with Daryl for the most part since he gives her the most comfort. He didn’t like the place but after all they have been through, after what they have been through, he’s willing to bend slightly so that they could possibly make this place their home.

“Are you coming with to the party?” Rick asks Daryl who seems to have never left the porch whenever he stepped outside finding him always there.

“Nah. Well I don’t know” He frowns keeping his gaze to the floor while he chewed away at his thumb. “Y/N going?”

“Nope. She’s staying in.” Rick states making his way down the steps and more over to Carol’s porch that Daryl stood on. “Judith is coming with me later so Y/N will be alone in the house if yea ever wanna check in on her”

“You make it sound like she had another attack” His worry started to eat at him and with no instant reply back, his own words are only confirming it. “Why didn’t—-“

“Because in some way, you’re also not okay here. Some people need space, others need comfort…Y/N is safe in the house and for once, after all these anxiety attacks I’ve witnessed, she asked for space” Rick gave a small smile to Daryl in the sense of there’s been improvement, but that didn’t stop the worry from brewing inside the archer. “Take the opportunity and if you change your mind about the party? Everybody else will be there”

Daryl watches the retired sheriff walk past as he looks over to his home finding Y/N turned away from the window holding herself. For a second he wanted to go on and check on her, but decided to listen to Rick.

Even if listening to him this time brought an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

The party started when the sunset and Daryl found himself watching from outside. He never felt like he fitted in with these types of crowds. The social people. Those who host parties and make charcuterie boards. It was weird how old world this place was.

When he stepped away and started to make his way back to the house Aaron the one who brought them in, stopped him to talk. This talk lead to being invited for dinner then a good thing to come out of this place…a bike frame. He can feel like his old self and make a new bike after losing the other one to the prison collapse.

But right before he left, Daryl stepped into the kitchen hesitantly but catching Eric’s attention.

“Did you need something?”

“If it’s uh…not too much” Daryl usually never has this much trouble, it’s just. Talking to new people.

Eventually Daryl got the leftovers he asked for after finally getting it out of him along with who it’s for. But when he entered the still very empty house, because of the party, he didn’t find Y/N instantly. She didn’t take a room in the Grimes’s residence, Carol offered a room in hers for her. She was in there last he saw her.

He checked everywhere.

The rooms, the kitchen, the garage, even the small areas in the front and back of the house. It should’ve been more obvious to check Carol’s but even when he looked in her place, she wasn’t instantly found. Which brought his anxiety to be vocal.

“Y/N?” He calls out, not receiving an immediate reply back. “Y/N!” He didn’t mean to shout knowing that would scare her but he was getting to an extreme level that will most likely be taken out on one of Deanna’s sons. They weren’t all that welcoming and he noticed how sad that made his partner.

A few more calls and Daryl eventually stopped in the kitchen to put away the plate in the fridge when he heard the sniffling.

“You didn’t hear me call you back?” Her hushed whisper still made it to Daryl’s ears as he quickly rounds the kitchen island to the dinning table crouching to find her sobbing in her curled position.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry” Daryl frowns bringing himself to sit on the floor and scooting up to her watching her uncurl to wrap her arms around his neck. He gently brought his around her waist pulling her into his lap as she wraps her legs around his torso. “I’m usually better at finding yea but this place is too new…”

“We aren’t used to it” Y/N finished while hiding her face in the crook of his neck for a moment.

Daryl held her for as long as she needed even if that lasted til Carol returned a few hours later. She didn’t say anything, only gave a look to the archer that if they needed anything to just call her, before heading upstairs to sleep.

But after a little while longer of being under the table, the two eventually moved out from under it and Daryl kept Y/N close the rest of the night which led them to the room she claimed. Y/N laid on top of Daryl as he gently grazes his fingers against her back in a soothing motion.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“It just…happened” Y/N frowns bringing herself to look at Daryl and his worried expression. “I feel so stupid…”

“You’re not stupid. You’re never stupid for bein’ anxious, sunshine” Daryl gently brushes the hair out of the way of her face watching her sadden expression last. “Sometimes we can’t control how we feel…just be glad yea ain’t quick to anger like some of us”

“You have reasons for your anger. A pen could drop on hard wood flooring and my mind could think someone is breaking in” Y/N laughed at her own problems which Daryl didn’t exactly like but he hasn’t heard her laugh in some time. As she rests her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head holding her a bit tighter.

“You feel safe with me…and our family. Everybody is unsettled in this place and it’ll take time to get used to it. You’re never at fault for your anxiety…I’ll remind yea everyday if I have to”

“Yeah?”

“I promise, sunshine” Daryl kissed her once more, leading her to lift her head and bring herself up so that she could kiss his lips which brought a hum from his chest. “I’ll always keep yea safe, too. From everything”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Y/N smiles bringing her head back to lay on his chest as he held her close with a hint of a smile gracing his features.

“By being you”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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carlsdarling · 10 months

Text

Being with Carl Grimes headcanons

Giving my fellow Carl people a sexy alphabet. Hope you enjoy it :) Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw

A – Aftercare

Carl is very loving and affectionate. After you both finished, he hugs you tightly and enjoys feeling your heart beating against his own. Cleaning up is not a priority for him, nor for you, so you usually fall asleep sticky and sweaty.

B - Body

Carl loves your belly and the curve of your waist to your hips and thighs. He can't stop looking at that part of your body. He also loves to cum on your belly.

C - Cum

Carl prefers to cum inside you, either in your pussy or in your mouth, but as long as he can cum anywhere on you, he's happy.

D – Dirty Secret

Carl has his secret fantasies about dominating and "punishing" you, especially when he is jealous. But it would never occur to him to hurt you.

He also secretly watched Beth changing her clothes in jail and jerked off.

E - Experience

He was completely inexperienced when the two of you got together, but he was so willing to learn. Now Carl is very experienced and knows exactly what he is doing.

F – Favourite position

You riding him and missionary. Carl wants to be able to kiss you and look at you while he fucks you, and it excites him a lot when you stroke him while he does it, brushing his hair back and moaning in his ear.

G - Gentle

Carl is usually very gentle unless you both feel needy, then it gets rougher and you both enjoy it.

H - Hair

He trims his pubes every now and then so they don't get in the way when you suck him off, but he doesn't really care.

I - Intimacy

Carl loves to lie in bed with you for hours, cuddling, talking and having sex over and over again.

J – Jack off

He hardly ever does it now because you literally can't keep your hands off each other. In the past, before Rick's group came to Alexandria and you met, he did it regularly.

K - Kink

Carl has some kind of a cum kink. He loves to see his jizz running out of you after sex and staining the bedding or the car seat, or spreading on your skin, he also gets excited when he ejaculates so much that it runs out of your mouth after you suck him off.

L - Location

Anywhere reasonably safe. But never outdoors outside Alexandria. Carl thinks that's too dangerous; he can't relax then.

M – Motivation

His sex drive is very high. He is 18, what else do you expect? ;) The smallest sign makes him get hard.

N – No Go

Humiliate you, beat you or fecal games.

O – Oral

He loves giving as much as receiving. When he eats you out, it drives him crazy how you squirm under him, clawing your fingers in his hair and begging to finally have him inside you.

P – Pace

It depends on what mood you are both in. From slow and sensual to fast and hard, Carl is flexible.

Q - Quickies

Often quickies are the only way for you to be intimate, so yes, he likes them. But preferably he has a lot of time and comfort to do it several times in a row.

R - Risk

He is definitiely a risk taker when it comes to someone potentially catching you in the act. You've already done it in various places in Alexandria - in the grass behind the horse stables, in the toolshed (you were sitting on a table with your legs wrapped around Carl's hips), once even in the dark on the wall.

S - Stamina

He can do it very often, you are constantly breaking your own records; currently the record stands at eleven times a day. You are just extremely horny for each other.

T – Time

Several times a day, unless you are on your period.

U – Unfair

Carl always tries to make you cum as often and as long as possible before he cums himself. Jokingly, he sometimes complains that this is unfair.

V - Volume

He is very loud no matter where you do it.

W – Wildcard

At one occasion, the two of you went on a tour and had a wild time in the back seat of the car very close to the Sanctuary, knowing that Negan's people could have shown up at any time.

X – X-Ray

He is a bit over average, but not much, his cock just fits you perfectly.

Y – Yes

Carl says yes to anything you want to do with him.

Z - Zzzzz

He prefers to fall asleep naked and cuddled up with you. If you have had sex at home, it doesn't take long for him to fall asleep.

#carl grimes smut #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #twd #the walking dead #carl grimes #carl grimes headcanons #carl grimes imagines #carl fanfiction

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doe-eyed-fool · 5 days

Text

Fear Of The Known

Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader

|Chapter One|

Warning: Angst, No Comfort

Y/n was a young woman, destined to work close with the higher ups of Heaven, due to the gift she was given. God chose her to be the angel who would prophesy the future.

The symbol of a bright shining star on her forehead acted as a third eye. It would be what aids her as she looks into the future. And for the longest time, the future seemed bright.

Although, the future was not just one straight line. There were many pathways that could be opened by the smallest of acts.

But from how well everything was managed in Heaven, the best future possible, seemed as if the only real future ahead.

No worries, no danger, nothing to disrupt the heavenly balance. Yes, it was all smooth sailing ahead.

Y/n loved her job, and found great joy in telling others of the wonderful future that lies ahead for everyone. However, there would come a day, where the future was changed for the worst.

And it all started with one man...

Lucifer was one of God's favorite angels. He was bright, creative, brilliant. Though, he was a bit of a trouble maker, and would often drag his brothers into joining his mischievous acts.

Well, perhaps mischief wasn't the best way to describe it. Curiosity, was a better way of putting it. But even then, that curiosity would lead him to trouble.

It was a good thing God was so forgiving of Lucifer.

Even Y/n couldn't stay mad at him whenever he got her involved, asking her to use her future vision to see how his actions would effect something or someone.

And every time she'd say-

"My power is not to be abused, Lucifer."

As disappointed as he always was whenever she refused to indulge him, he'd never force her to do something she didn't want to. But boy, was he persistent.

Eventually, his curiosity rubbed off on Y/n. And she took a small peak into Lucifer's future. As she suspected, Lucifer would live happily and sharing his creativity with all of Heaven to enjoy.

Yes. Another wonderful future for all.

But then, another path was opened to her eyes. What she saw, concerned her.

Heaven was in chaos, and Lucifer was at the center of it all.

Y/n didn't dare look any further than that. And she would not say a word about this to Lucifer either. She had a feeling it would have negatively affected him.

However, she couldn't keep this to herself. She needed to tell God about the future she saw. It was the first time she had ever seen Heaven so...frazzled.

As if something terrible were about to happen.

The suspense of not knowing ate at her. If she were to tell God of such a future, she would need to know exactly why and how it would happen. And so, she looked again.

There Lucifer was again. He looked so angry, but so sad at the same time. And there was someone else with him. A tall and beautiful woman with long blonde hair. Lucifer held an arm out protectively in front of her as he yelled something.

He looked injured. Blood stained his beautiful face, as well as his robes. Even his wings were damaged.

Ahead of Lucifer was Michael. Sword in hand, the blade pointing towards Lucifer. He looked a bit roughed up as well. Had they been fighting? Why would they ever fight?

Chains were thrown around Lucifer and the woman he was with, and then, there was a vision of Lucifer and that same woman inside of Heaven's courtroom. Words were being yelled back and forth from Lucifer and the head Seraphim, Sera.

But Joel would have the final word.

There was a look of panic on Lucifer's face. The chains that bind him disappeared and the ground beneath them gave in. With quick thinking, Lucifer held onto that woman tightly, shielding her with his wings.

And just like that, the both fell.

Y/n gasped sharply as the vision faded.

"Lucifer...Lucifer falls from Heaven."

Y/n kept that terrible vision to herself for many years to come. The only reason she refused to tell anyone, is because she couldn't see any possible reason for Lucifer to fall from Heaven.

Lucifer would never do anything to put Heaven at risk, let alone cause for Michael to draw his sword at him.

There was no way Lucifer would do such a thing.

Y/n gazed out, watching Lucifer from a far. He was speaking to God, looking as carefree as usual. It was then he noticed her, he waved his hand. Y/n smiled weakly and waves back.

Lucifer excused himself from God and made his way over to her. "Hey Y/n, I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Oh? About what?" She asks curiously. Lucifer looks around before taking Y/n's hand and leading her away somewhere more private. Once Lucifer was sure they were alone, he excitedly shared the news to her.

"So, we all know that Heaven is great and will continue to be great for like, the rest of forever, right? But what if it could be even better?" Y/n looks a little confused. "What do you mean?" She asks.

"I've been thinking of some ideas to really give Heaven some...sparkle!" Lucifer says with jazz hands. "I wanted you to be the first to hear about it before I bring it up at the meeting first thing tomorrow morning."

Y/n couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. Whatever he had planned, he sure seemed passionate about it. And so, Y/n listen to him explain his ideas.

Everything he spoke about all sounded so wonderful, magnificent even. And just the way he talked about it, Y/n could see his eyes light up with every word that left him. Passionate didn't even begin to describe it. These weren't just ideas.

These were his dreams.

"I really have a feeling this will change Heaven forever! What do you think?" Asked Lucifer after he finished.

"Lucifer, I think you should do it. Clearly this is something you really want, and I can tell it means a lot to you. I wish you luck." Y/n tells him. Lucifer smiles brightly before hugging her tight.

"Thank you, Y/n!"

"Of course, Lucifer. I can't wait to hear what they have to say."

The two parted, and Lucifer suddenly had a mischievous look on his face. "You know, you could always tell me what they'll say."

"Lucifer." Y/n says sternly.

Lucifer sighs dramatically. "I know, I know. But I just can't wait!" Y/n giggles. "Well, just try and wait a little longer. They're going to love it."

"I sure hope so." Said Lucifer with a small smile.

Curiosity could be a very dangerous thing indeed. The vision Y/n had to Lucifer's future, or at least one of them, should have been enough to keep her from looking too long of what fate has to offer. And yet, something compelled her to look again.

The once bright future ahead, had changed.

It wasn't another pathway, but the one that was most guaranteed.

And it was horrible...

Lucifer will fall from Heaven, but not before he shares his ideas with the angels. Not before he meets with Lilith, and the two create sin and unleash it onto the world that the angels worked so hard to protect.

Y/n could not allow this future come to pass. She could not allow Lucifer to be casted into eternal damnation. Not if there was something she could do about it.

She knew had to warn Lucifer. But telling him of the future she saw might have crushed him and his dreams. And she didn't want to be the reason he stopped dreaming.

But nonetheless, she still had to do something to stop that future from occurring.

Y/n caught Lucifer the morning he was to call for that meeting.

"Lucifer, may I have a word with you?" She asks. Lucifer smiles. "Sure, but be quick, I have to get going soon."

Y/n tried to appear as calm as she could. "I know you're very excited about this meeting, Lucifer."

"I'm more than excited!" Lucifer says cheerfully. "If I can convince everyone to get on board with my plan, Heaven and Earth as we know it will change forever!"

Y/n winces. "That's what I wanted to talk you about." Lucifer looked confused, but listened anyway. "You know how the Seraphims can be. They're so...strict, you know?"

Lucifer sighs. "Yeah, talk about a bunch of sticks in the mud." He smirks. Y/n laughs awkwardly. "Yes well...Maybe you should cancel this meeting. Or! A-At least, postpone it?"

Lucifer only grows more confused by this, but he shrugs with a carefree grin. "Y/n, trust me. I can get on their good sides. You know how charming and loveable I am. There's nothing to worry about." He says before starting off.

Panic started to rise in Y/n. This wasn't good. Lucifer could not go to that meeting. If he does, Heaven will soon be thrown into total chaos.

"I'll let you know how it goes, ok?" Lucifer unfolds his wings to take flight.

Y/n grabs his wrist, stopping him. "You can't!"

Lucifer gives her a bewildered look. "Y/n?"

"You can't go to that meeting Lucifer!"

Lucifer furrows his brows. "Why have you had a sudden change of heart? Yesterday you were just as excited for this as I was. I thought you liked my ideas."

"I-I do! It's just..." Y/n trailed off, unable to think of anything to say. "Y/n." Y/n looked at Lucifer, his expression now one of concern. "Did you see something? Does something go wrong?"

"Lucifer...You just can't go." Y/n says weakly. "They won't understand. I just...I just don't want you to be hurt by what they might say."

Lucifer took Y/n's hand. "Was that really what you saw? They won't listen?" He asks. Y/n nods her head, tears in her eyes. She hated this. She hated having to be the one that tells him this.

But it had to be said. Lucifer might have been hurt by this, but at least he'd still be here in Heaven.

"Then...It looks like I'll have to change their minds!"

Y/n's heart sank. "You're still going? Why? I just told you they-"

"I know. But Y/n, I can't let this opportunity pass. I believe in my dream, I know it can work. I'll just have to really knock their socks off! And make a outstanding impression!" Lucifer says determinedly.

"Lucifer..."

"It'll work, trust me. Those Seraphims won't know what hit them!"

"Lucifer."

"You can even come with me! They're bound to listen if I have someone else who believes in me!"

"Lucifer I can't!" Y/n says firmly. "I saw the future that lies ahead, I know what the outcome will be! It's certain that they will not listen to you! It doesn't matter what you say or do, it won't work Lucifer!"

Lucifer was slightly taken back by your words. Y/n's heart snapped in two at the look on his face. One of sadness, betrayal...

It had to be said.

"I'm sorry Lucifer." Y/n sighs. "Please, please don't go. Just-"

"No."

"Lucifer!"

"I'm going to that meeting, Y/n. I'm going to tell them what I have planned. Because I believe in my dream. I just thought you would too..." Lucifer lets go of her hand before taking flight.

"Lucifer! Wait!" Y/n called after him. Lucifer ignored her as he grew further and further out of sight. "Lucifer!" Tears began to drip down her cheeks.

Y/n had failed to change that horrible future. Lucifer would fall from Heaven, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"I'm sorry..."

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Note

Hi, could I please request one for Hedwig where her darling tries to end the relationship not because they don't love her but because they believe they aren't good enough and could find someone better.

since darling always hears people wonder how someone like them got someone like Hedwig.

[I really, really enjoyed this one, i think its one of my favorites!! I love writing unstable yanderes <333]

I'd kill for you!

Female!yandere OC x reader

Summary: people have been telling you that you don't deserve Hedwig and when you're trying to break up with her, all Hell breaks loose. She can't let you break up with her.

Warnings: clingy yandere, possessive behaviour, obsession, love bites, angst, suggestion towards killing

Word count: 1.8

To Hedwig’s protests, you did actually sleep at home yesterday. She wants you to be as close to her as possible at all times of the day. This morning, she tells her chauffeur to drive quicker to school so Hedwig can meet up with you before class.

You’re sitting in a chair in the back of your classroom. You’ve placed your bag on the seat next to you to make sure no one else will sit there. To be fair, you need a little break from Hedwig and her suffocating thoughts. If you let her know what you’re thinking, she will babble until you change your mind and think like she does. You have to get your head straight and make a list in your head before approaching her. If you’re not strict and firm on your ground, she’ll break you down.

People have been saying that you don’t deserve someone like Hedwig. She’s out of your league in every way possible. Their jealousy has carved a hole in your brain and caused your self esteem to spill out. People haven’t been secretive with their opinions about you. You’ve heard it all. You would be lying if you said that it didn’t make your heart clench. Hedwig is your everything. You have no other friends than her — which is all thanks to Hedwig — and she treats you so well. She gives you everything you want, brings you with her for the smallest tasks and stands up for you when others track down on you.

She deserves someone better than you.

Hedwig enters the classroom with a smile, happy to sit beside you. Except for when she’s about to move your bag, you stop her hand.

“I’d like to sit alone today”, you say.

“Why?” Hedwig asks. “Is something wrong?”

“I just need to be alone for a little while.”

“Does this have anything to do with the fact that you didn’t want to stay over at my house last night?”

“Yeah …”

Hedwig places her handbag on the table and takes your hands in hers. You try to pull them out of her grip, but she won’t let you.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, Y/N”, she pleads. “I will do anything. If I have done anything to make you sad, I will fix it immediately.”

“You haven’t done anything”, you sigh and avoid her doe eyes. “I just want to be alone for today.”

“Oh … okay …”, Hedwig says quietly and takes her designer bag. “I’ll … I’ll leave you be then … I love you, Y/N.”

You mumble something back but neither you or Hedwig is sure of what it is. She sits down by one of her friends and gives you a worried glance over her shoulder. You notice it, but you ignore it. Instead, you lean your head down on your arm to hide your face. Hedwig’s friend seems surprised that she’s sitting beside her for once, but Hedwig doesn’t give her any attention, all of her focus is on you. None of you listen to what the teacher says, you being too scared of how to break your thoughts down easily to Hedwig and her head being filled with worry for you. You’ve never asked her to sit somewhere else. Even in your darkest moments, you’ve let her sit beside you.

As soon as the break starts, she walks back to your table.

“Do you need anything?” she asks.

You shake your head and stand up, grabbing your things.

“Y/N, please talk to me”, she begs with a worried voice. “Tell me what’s wrong! I’ll help you.”

“I don’t know how to say it to you, so I’m waiting until I can come up with a good structure”, you sigh. “Give me some time.”

She gulps. “Okay … okay, I’ll give you the time you need, but can I please be with you?”

She takes your hand, but you pull yours away. Her hazel eyes fill with tears and you have to look away before you give in to her. Again.

“Y/N, please”, she whispers with a trembling voice. “You’re scaring me. Please tell me what’s wrong. Please let me be with you. I-I’m not going to make any sounds, I’m not going to bother you at all!” Her voice dies out. “I just … I just need to hold you.”

You want to give in and tell her to come with you, but you don’t. It’ll hurt her now, but she’ll be much happier when she realizes how much you weigh her down, just like everyone tells you.

You leave the classroom and hear how Hedwig starts to sob behind you. You can’t see how she wipes her tears and gives you a glare through the window. She’s not going to give up on you so easily.

The next day, it’s the same. You’ve placed your bag on the chair beside you and denies Hedwig access to it. You can tell that she’s more of a ticking time bomb today, about to explode at any minute. She’s touch deprived and needs your presence to keep her at bay. Everyone else’s attention doesn’t matter, it doesn’t satisfy her the way yours do.

“Get up”, she says sternly. “We need to talk.”

“Class is about to start”, you remind her.

“Get up, Y/N. Now.”

Surprised by the sudden strength in her voice, you find yourself doing as she says. She grabs your hand tightly and drags you out of the classroom, away from everyone’s eyes. You get pulled through corridors until she reaches the empty bathroom. She pushes you up against the wall to prevent you from running away.

“What is going on?” she asks frustratedly. “Why are you avoiding me?!”

You have never seen her eyes so light before. It’s as if they’re burning with anger.

“Why can’t you tell me?” she asks. “I don’t care if you don’t have a good structure to not hurt me, this is hurting me! This … this game of ‘show don’t tell’! Just tell me! I don’t care if it’s bad. Stop torturing me!”

“Fine … I think we should break up-”

“B-Break up?”

The furious light in her eyes is gone as quick as it appeared. Her doe eyes widen as she shakes her head, denying what you just said.

“Hedwig-”, you start, but her trembling voice cuts you off.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” she asks. “Have I done something-?”

“No, you haven’t. It’s just … I’ve heard that other people look down on us. They say that you deserve someone better than me and I’ve come to agree.” You shrug sadly. “You’re a great girl, Hedwig … and I don’t think you realize yet that I’m just ruining your reputation. I care about you so I can’t let you waste your last year of high school like this.”

“‘Waste’?” she repeats in shock with tears in her eyes. “Y-You think I’m wasting my time with you? Please don’t say that! I really love you, Y/N … a lot. Much, much more than you could ever imagine.” She grabs your face in her shaking hands. “I-I’d bring down the moon for you! I’d give you every diamond in the world! I’d … I’d kill for you!”

You shiver. Her voice has never sounded so raw before. She’s turning into a sobbing mess and you’re afraid that she’ll break. If she breaks, so will you.

“Please don’t leave me”, she cries and caresses your face with her thumbs. “I-I don’t care what other people say! I’ve never been happier than when I met you!”

“I care about you. I don’t want you to be badly treated as well.”

“I don’t fucking care, Y/N!” she shouts and leans her forehead onto your shoulder, suddenly losing all her energy. Her voice dies out again. “I want you. I don’t want anyone else. Please … please don’t let this end. You love me too, don’t you?”

You nod, voice not holding up.

“We don’t need other people’s approval”, Hedwig says and nuzzles her wet face into your warm neck. “We only need each other, right?”

“Are you sure you want to take the risk?” you ask.

Hedwig nods and kisses your neck once. “Of course.”

You sigh and nod for yourself. Maybe she’s right. You wish you had her confidence and determination. She doesn’t care what other people think. If only you could do that too.

Hedwig pulls back and wipes her runny nose with the sleeve of her white cardigan.

“So we’re not breaking up?” she asks quietly. “Right?”

You shake your head and she breaks out into a relieved smile. She dries her tears and hugs you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You hug back, holding her gently in her arms. Her happiness quickly turns into anger when she realizes that these thoughts of yours actually weren’t yours. People have been tainting her perfect darling to the point where you want to leave her. She can’t let you and her be surrounded by people who try to break you up.

“Y/N, could you please tell me who made you feel like this?” she asks carefully.

“I don’t know their names”, you admit.

“You can point them out in the yearbook, can’t you?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” She pulls back and smiles at you. “Everything will be okay, Y/N. I promise.”

You give her a small nod. Hedwig looks down at your neck, thinking.

“Can I mark you?” she asks. “Please? I want to show people that you’re not going anywhere.”

You nod again. Headwig dives into your neck to create her own watermark on you. No one can steal you and claim you as theirs. The small, almost inaudible sounds you let out convince her that she can never let you go. She loves them so much, she needs to hear them.

“So beautiful”, she smiles as she looks at her creation. “Now, let’s go back to class. I’ll sit beside you now.”

“Your makeup”, you remind her.

“Oh right, thank you.”

She fixes her makeup and in a matter of five minutes, no one can tell that she’s been a crying mess. She smiles at you and holds out her hand. You take it and together, you walk back to class. The teacher scolds you for being late, but Hedwig tells him that you were helping her with something. The students can clearly see the mark on your neck and probably think you ‘helping’ her meant something completely different.

When you come home to Hedwig’s gigantic villah after school, she sits you down on her bed and gives you the yearbook and a red pen. You have to circle everyone you’ve heard talk badly about your and Hedwig relationship. She leans against you while you let the pen mark out the students. Hedwig watches carefully, eyes darkening. Those people will pay dearly for trying to take you away from her. She will hire someone to take care of it for her and then you’ll never have to be afraid again. You’ll be able to live happily ever after with Hedwig!

#yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere oc #possessive yandere #clingy yandere #yandere angst #yandere female #unstable yandere

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desert-fern · 11 months

Text

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 8: The Boat to Riyadh

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: swearing, and I think that's it!

Word Count: 3.3k

Masterlist >> Part 7 >> Part 9

===

The journey was long and unremarkable. No one could do much and there was only so long someone could be cooped up in close quarters before they lost it. Thankfully, only petty disagreements happened, and knowing her team, Bear knew that it could definitely have been worse. For the most part, the Seals were nose deep in folders, trying to cram the smallest detail into their brains about this mission, possible formations, contingency plans, and more.

The pilots on the other hand, found themselves wandering aimlessly through the ship, alternating between bugging their Seal teammates and each other. But it was safe to say that everyone was bored out of their minds and arrival at Jebel Ali couldn’t come soon enough.

Bear groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face in frustration. The numbers weren’t adding up. There was simply no way that al-Hameed had as many people around him as he claimed. If that were the case, the drones that had been launched repeatedly over the area as well as satellite imaging would have confirmed the number she’d been given. Taking a deep breath, she got up and went in search of Flare, her expert in reconnaissance missions and information gathering. Hopefully her Lieutenant could give her some more insight into what was really going on beyond a man’s over-exaggerated body guard number.

“Flare. Mind following me?” Bear asked, finding the young woman with her nose in a book.

“Bear? Is everything okay?” Flare asked, setting the book down and following after her Commander.

Bear nodded. “For the most part, I’m struggling to grasp something and hoped that you could shed some light on the situation.”

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee anything,” Flare replied. “What was causing the issue?”

“al-Hameed’s number of followers at the compound. The IJU doesn’t have many active posts in Saudi Arabia, most are in tribal Pakistan, so unless Khrushov’s people were counted and then, I don’t know, doubled or something so it filled the space for al-Hameed, something else is going on,” Bear told her, pointing at the papers in front of her.

“Weird. Give me a second, let me grab my copies so I can compare because something is definitely off.” The young woman rushed from the room, skidding around the corners and past other Navy personnel as she made for her bunk.

Minutes later, she was back, files in hand. “Okay, so this is the satellite image from this day, that matches. But this is from… huh. I see what happened. You were sent the wrong data, because I have these two dates on images and reports, while you have this other one, from weeks ago.”

“So what you’re telling me, Flare, is that my files were changed?” Bear asked, arms crossed.

Biting her lip, Flare hummed. “I can’t say for sure, but it’s weird that I have this and you don’t. Especially since I sent you everything that came across my email in relation to this mission.”

Rubbing her temples, Bear sighed in frustration. “Okay, thanks. I’m trying to get a hold on roughly how many of you guys I will need for this, so I’m going to copy the numbers I need and give this back to you.” Bear sat back down in her chair, continuing on. “Meanwhile, before you get back to your book, I need you to draft an email to send the second we hit secure service in Riyadh. Tell them to take a look into my account, computer, and tech that is on base. I want to make sure that I haven’t been hacked.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Wonderful, thank you.” She watched Flare leave the room, letting out a huff as she went back to her planning. Time flew by, and now with the correct numbers, she knew that she would need most of the people she’d brought along. Better safe than sorry, she supposed.

For Jake, he was reminded just how much he hated the traveling portion of the deployments. Security reasons meant that outside communication was limited, not that he had anyone he wanted to talk to in the States, and that in turn limited access to the internet. At least it was limited for them, Bear had been adamant that all technology was off. Total blackout. “More like total boredom,” he muttered, standing up from his bunk and wandering off to find someone new to chat with.

His wandering brought him down random hallways until he found himself in a room with the Seals. Fireball, for some inane reason, had taken a liking to him, and they had discovered each other’s preference for rival football teams, which they dug up again and when Jake checked the time, he found that they had spent two hours explaining why the other was wrong. “Dude,” Fireball said, exasperated. “The stats speak for themselves. Your team hasn’t been good fo-” he cut himself off, glancing at the door.

Jake turned, finding himself face to face with Bear. “Bear.”

“Flyboy.”

“Commander, is there something you need?” Fireball asked, glancing between his CO and new friend.

She nodded. “But it can wait. If I stare at any more reports today, my head might explode,” Bear complained, flopping into one of the chairs. “I’d get into it, but Hangman isn’t cleared for this level of information, unfortunately.”

The room filled with silence. No one knew what to say, especially since Bear wasn’t typically one to complain. “I intruded on your space, didn’t I?” she asked after a moment. “Shit, okay. Well, food is ready in like 20 so I will see you guys there.” With a groan, Bear heaved herself up and out of the chair, quickly and quietly disappearing from the room.

Glances were exchanged, before Jake stood. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to mess so all the good bread isn’t taken,” he remarked casually, strolling off down the halls after Bear.

She looked confused when he did find her, wondering why he would ask if she was okay. “I’m fine. I just know that there are things that you don’t necessarily want to discuss in front of your CO,” Bear told him, her brown eyes meeting his green. “It’s kind of sweet that you were concerned though. I appreciate it. But I really am fine.”

He gave her a grin, walking backwards towards the door, wincing when his shoulder slammed into the side of the door. “Ow.”

“You good, Flyboy?”

The signature smirk made its appearance on Jake’s face. “Oh, I’m good, Teddy. I’m very good.”

“Oh fuck you,” she groaned. “That was terrible.”

His smirk grew and he strode towards her, backing her into the table behind her. “I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy that too much, Teddy,” he replied, voice low. Jake caught how her eyes widened, how her cheeks pinked, and the little hitch in her breath with how close he stood, and he relished that his presence was all it took for her to lose some of the rigid control she had on her reactions.

Rolling her eyes, Bear shook her head. Slipping out from against the table, she stood with her arms crossed, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You wish, Flyboy. You fucking wish.”

“Oh I do,” Jake retorted. With one more appraising glance, he left her standing in the middle of the room, shock evident on her face.

“Ugh! That motherfucker!”

===

Nearly 20 days after their original departure date and five days after the incident, as Bear had taken to calling it, the USS Abraham Lincoln made port in Saudi Arabia’s port Mina Jebel Ali.

The deck had erupted in chaos, pilots, support crew, engineers, Seals, and any number of personnel were rushing to and fro, trying to get everything settled for the disembarkation of a fraction of the number that would continue on to the naval base in Busan.

“Flare, Shrike, Bug, Fireball, are your people ready?”

“Yes Ma’am, ready and waiting to fly out. Waiting on your signal to send them off,” Bug replied.

“Send them off. Join your teams, I will do one last check with Captain Mitchell before I join you en route to Riyadh,” Bear ordered. “You are dismissed.”

Four nods from her Lieutenants followed her words before they disappeared into the flurry of movement. Bear watched the helicopters take off, each one carrying nearly ten Seals apiece. It made her nervous, knowing how many things could go wrong. Even if it was just an hour and a bit from where the port. Anything could be waiting the second they flew out of the urban areas.

Steeling herself, Bear blew out a deep breath, catching Maverick by the arm as he went to pass her. “Everything set?”

“Hell yeah. Just having them to do final checks on the jets. Should be out within 30 to 45, depending on whether or not Hondo can get everyone organized enough to send us out,” he told her, glancing over her shoulder at Payback, who was finishing up his checks.

“Get your people together, and I will see you soon, Mav.” Bear clapped him on the back before slipping through the crowd to the last running helicopter that sat on the deck of the Lincoln.

Strapping in, Bear placed the headset on, tucked her bag between her feet before signaling to the pilot. “Let’s get this bird in the air.”

===

The flight didn’t take long and when her boots hit the ground at Riyadh Air Base, Bear hurried over, offering an extended hand to the Base Commander, Air Force Colonel Michael Richmond. “Thank you for hosting us, Colonel. We appreciate your cooperation.”

“It isn’t a problem, Commander. Just glad something is finally being done about al-Hameed,” he replied, shaking her hand. “Do you know your way around?”

“I do, Sir. We’ve had some past missions that have had us based out of Riyadh. If nothing changed since I was last here, I believe we should be good to go,” Bear told him. “I hope that the arrangements for our pilots were communicated in advance?”

“Yes, they were. Admiral Harris was quite clear when he sent the request that it was anything but a request,” Richmond chuckled.

“That sounds like him.”

The Colonel nodded, calling over a few of his people. “Staff Sergeants Miller and Roux will show you to the accommodations.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Settling in only took a few hours. But thanks to the time change, most of her people and the pilots were absolutely exhausted. Luckily for them, it was evening when the last F-18 touched down, allowing most of their personnel to fall asleep quickly.

And they did.

The next morning hit them all hard. It was an early start. Maverick had the Daggers up, doing standard runs and drills to get his people back in the air and work out any final kinks as they practiced the bombing run.

Bear, on the other hand, had allowed her Seals an extra hour of sleep, knowing that in two days, they would be up for hours on end. She figured that a little extra sleep couldn’t hurt. At 0630 though, she walked through the halls banging her fist on all the doors of her people whether they were up or not. Training had to be done, but Bear had chatted with Maverick the night before to ask if her people could visit the swath of desert over which the Daggers were running their maneuvers, and he had happily agreed.

So 45 minutes later, Bear and her team traveled out to where Maverick stood next to an abandoned hangar, where they could see the planes twisting and curling through the air like kites whose strings had been let out a little too far. “Bear!” Maverick yelled over the noise, waving them down. “You’re in for a show! I’m pretty sure that they know you’re here!”

“Well we aren’t exactly a small group!” She yelled back, tilting her head up to watch two planes race past overheard, chasing each other with reckless abandon. “And I’m pretty sure they could see us coming for miles!”

He laughed, waving the group of Seals over to cluster around him. “Throw your packs against the wall, I can maybe use a few of you in running this next series.” Tapping the radio in his hand, Maverick spoke, voice crackling through the comms of the twelve pilots above him, “The Seals showed up. A few are gonna give you information. Listen for your call sign.”

“Copy Mav,” Phoenix replied, twisting over Coyote to dive low enough to wave at Bear and Bug before flying off and allowing her aircraft to hover midair, waiting for the instructions. “I can tell Bagman’s a second away from showing off though.”

“Oh fucking hell,” Omaha swore goodnaturedly. “Now wingmen really will be left hanging.”

“Fuck off you two,” Jake replied, his cheeks a little red. “I’m still this good, regardless.”

A few cackles filled his headset, and down on the ground, Bear could hear the teasing from the large radio inside the hangar. It made her grin, loving the ribbing the blonde man was on the receiving end of, thankful that it was his turn and not hers. “Alright people, who wants to go first?” she asked, scanning over her people. A few hands went up, and Bear glanced back at Maverick. “How many did you need?”

He held up four fingers and Bear picked off four people, who followed her to the radio where Maverick stood. He had written down the instructions he wanted certain pilots to have during the exercise, and passed them over to the Seal leader, who flipped them over, making her people draw blindly. “Okay, Coyote, Raptor has some instructions for you. Go ahead Raptor,” the older pilot told the young man next to him.

He relayed information that he was given with minimal issue. He had turned back to Bear, giving her a huge shrug after, saying, “I have no fucking clue what I just said.”

Up in the air, the Daggers heard his words and laughed. “Hate to break it to you, Raptor, but I could tell!” Coyote teased.

The other three Seals had their turns, each one of them making faces back at their Commander signaling their uncertainty. “Well, this will be fun,” Maverick said. Gesturing them forwards, the pilot began telling them the exercise. “So what we just told them to do, is really the most basic one we have. Coyote and Rooster are dogfighting against Phoenix and Halo. It’s just two minutes, a short one. Make sense?”

The Seals around him nodded and they watched as the drill they had relayed to the pilots began. The ducking, dodging, and weaving of the planes had most of the Seals’ jaws dropping in awe. “This is fucking cool,” Fireball exclaimed, knocking into Flare with how he’d been craning his neck to see. “It’s like they’re dancing.”

“At roughly 7000 feet, going hundreds of miles an hour,” Maverick elaborated, grinning widely. It felt good to show off their skills. And why wouldn’t they? The Seals had already had their turn back stateside.

As soon as it had begun, Coyote and the others slowed. The radio spewed joking insults and proclamations of victory all over the other and Bear delighted in the organized chaos. “Damn,” was all the Seal Commander was able to say. “Wow.”

“Hear that? Bear’s impressed with you all,” Maverick gloated, grinning when he saw the woman shake her head at him. “She’s practically speechless.”

Eyes glinting behind her sunglasses, Bear sauntered forwards, snatching the radio from Maverick’s hands. “As speechless as y’all were after we did our first drill?”

The pilots in the sky burst into laughter. “Sh-she’s got you there, Mav!” Rooster laughed, the mental image too funny for him not to.

Meanwhile, Jake was having a crisis. He loved that Bear was impressed. But he hadn’t done anything yet, and a part of him really wanted to hear her express awe at his skills. And her voice through the headset? Absolutely fucking magical. The lightness of her voice made him grin and want to hear her voice in his ear again. In whatever way he could get it.

“Okay, okay. Settle down.” Maverick was side-eyeing the Seal hard, amusement sparkling in his eyes, knowing full well the dilemma Hangman was having up in the sky. It wasn’t new to him. “Bear, want to do the honors for the next one?”

“Seriously?” Bear narrowed her eyes at him, unsure of what he was playing at.

“C’mon Bear!” One of the Seals yelled and the chant was quickly picked up by the rest of them, Maverick pressing the button on the radio to allow the pilots to listen in, which ended up with them goading her as well, all chanting “Do it. Do it. Do it.”

Waving her arms, Bear shouted over the noise, “Okay! Okay! Fucking Christ! Fine, what am I directing them in?”

A piece of paper was pressed into her hands, and she pulled a face at the words on the note. “Okay, this isn’t fucking legible in the slightest. Flare, you’re always reading the worst handwriting, what does this say?”

“Hangman, Payback and Fanboy, Halo and Omaha, and Harvard, and it looks like Mav has something here about a race?” Flare said, looking at Maverick for confirmation.

“That’s it.”

“Great,” Bear picked up the radio and read out the instructions, calling out the four pilots in question. “From the furthest hangar in the west, over the base and back,” she finished.

“Did you understand any of that?” Jake’s voice came through the speaker and she could hear the smirk in his tone.

“I’m aviationally challenged, not directionally challenged, Flyboy,” she teased back.

“Pretty sure that’s not my call sign.”

“Nope, pretty sure I have the right ‘f-boy’.”

“Oh shit!” Fireball shouted, gaping at his CO. “Bear, you can’t just straight up murder a man like that.”

Bear squinted at him. “Did you forget that that is literally part of our job?”

“Right.”

Up in the sky, Jake was still shell-shocked from her quick comeback. He prided himself in being able to put her off her game, but it seemed that she could do the same just as easily.

“All good up there, Hangman? Haven’t heard confirmation of understanding just yet,” Bear said teasingly over his headset, making him groan in frustration.

“Copy that, Ted-Bear,” he replied, the nickname he had for her slipping from his lips with ease. It was only a forced correction that had him changing it mid syllable.

Glances were exchanged. Jake was acting weird, well, weirder than usual and while everyone had a guess as to what was happening, the other party supposedly involved seemed to be unaffected. If only they knew how untrue that was. The groan Jake had let out rattled through Bear’s head, mixing with the fantasies that ran rampant through her mind late at night. It was bad enough she had to see him in that damn flight suit on a daily basis.

Maverick shouted “Go!” and the planes raced past.

Bear watched the planes take off, racing each other down the straightaway. “Which one is which?” She asked Maverick.

“Far right is Hangman. Payback and Fanboy are second left. Omaha is next to Hangman, and Harvard is far left,” he told her, watching the planes begin to distance themselves from one another.

“And here they come!” Someone yelled from behind her. They were right. The planes raced back towards them with who she thought was Hangman in first place. Her suspicions were confirmed when he gave a shout of victory, whooping with delight.

“Alright, back home Daggers,” Maverick told them. “Refuel, and we’ll come back up this afternoon.”

“Copy Mav,” came the replies, with one pilot replying “Okay dad.”

Bear turned to the Seals. “Grab your gear, we’re going back. We have a few more raid drills to practice before we’re done for the day.”

She nodded to Maverick, who returned the gesture, before Bear led the Seals off at a run in the direction of the base.

===

A/N: So they are in Saudi now! Still going to be a bit before it picks up, but Bear is still a boss bitch! Thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky for reading this part for me!

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onmyyan · 1 year

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Hi I just wanted to make a request to ask if you could make a Drabble to ask if you could make a gabe x reader as you when you talked about caspians family you mentioned how gabe is compared to his brother caspian or possibly someone else I would like to know more about him in general and about what would he do with a clay maker s/o who secretly knows about the family business and is an insomniac and also likes to sleep a lot but tries to do the most that they can and won’t fall for the manipulation tactics he uses and just says “ you know if you wanted me to stay home you could’ve just said so?🤨

sorry if your burnt out also have as much fun as you can as a 22 year old !!! You don’t have an obligation to answer this but thank you.

A/N: Ello bby i am soooo happy you asked about Gabe omfg im kicking my feet rn!!! I tried to check all the boxes of the request i apologize if i missed any, Also I'm not burnt out thank you for your sweet words i wanna give u a forehead kith anyway!!!! Heres Gabe! NOT EDITED

T/W: YANDERE, MURDER, GABE IS FUCKIN CRAZY LMAO,CURSING

Gabrielllll Mi Amor omg where do I even begin?!

Standing at a proud 6'4 this mf is big. He's the strongest of his brothers physically, and has always used it to his advantage.

Early on in his life he was being compared to Caspian. They looked so alike it wasn't hard to see why people brought it up the way they did but it still bugged him.

Subconsciously he began to act anyway his brother wasn't. Be it avoiding the kitchen like the plague or gluing himself to the workshop downstairs.

Has a voice like warm butter and can sing stupidly well.

Sings/hums little tunes whenever he's working.

Love languages are acts of service and gift giving, he just wants to take care of you.

Terrified of spiders, he will call you crying to come get it.

Loves tinkering with things, surprisingly delicate hands for such a rough guy.

He laughs with his whole body, the kinda loud boisterous one that made other people start.

Snorts when he finds something especially funny.

He has a hard time reading social cues so he's constantly making dumb jokes, especially when he's not supposed to but he's so funny it's hard to stay mad at him.

Charm up the wazoo, the kinda guy where no matter where he goes, someone's coming up to say hello to him.

He's really good at pattern recognition and it makes him come off a bit psychic at times

Like how he'd clock someone's bad mood the second he seen them, notices details most people wouldn't.

Himbo.

The kinda guy where if you accidentally burn yourself he'll do it too just so you could be in equal amounts of pain, is it dumb as hell? Yeah. Is it also the sweetest thing ever? Absolutely.

Wants the kind of love Mortica and Gomez have, unfiltered raw passion.

Morbid sense of humor.

He's always warm no matter the temperature, comes in mad handy during the colder months and means he wears the smallest amount of clothing when it's hot out which is just a win for everyone.

Scorpio male I repeat Scorpio male. Do with that what you will.

Believes in love at first sight, he's such a big softie.

Had his tongue pierced in his friend's dingy kitchen when he was 18, a secret to this day his mom doesn't know about it.

His canines are a little longer than most and he absolutely had a vampire phase.

Likes to bite. A lot. It's a love language.

He confides in Caspian for everything, expect his envy of him. For that he talks to Ricky.

He can knock someone out with his right hook and has many times before.

He grew up working for his dad's approval and that meant getting his hands dirty.

At first his was a bit weary of using his strength to hurt people but that all changed when his Father put things in perspective for him.

"Everything we do- it's to keep food on our table, to keep us safe- your mother safe." And it all clicked.

Violence for the sake of violence wasn't okay. But violence for the sake of love? That shit was poetic.

He's essentially the family's guard dog. If anyone fucked with them? You told Gabe and suddenly the problem was gone.

He loves the color red, specifically the shade of red that came outta' the first guy his Father sent him after.

He was just supposed to rough him up a little but had too much fun caving in the dude's face.

Thinks killing in the name of love is the most caring thing you can do for someone.

Lil bit of a masochist streak. Likes when he gets to fight someone who can actually keep up with him cuz that little jolt he gets down his spine when he gets hit is addicting.

Animals love him, like you got a cat that hates everyone? Loves him.

Likes preening himself, takes about an hour in the shower everyday, since he dyes his hair so often he takes extra special care of it.

He has a beauty routine and he never skips it, definitely sets up self care spa days with the two of you once you're together.

Really good at videogames, like don't let him goad you into any sort of bet around gaming bec you will lose.

He's the second oldest but carries a lot of the weight of the older brother title since Cas wants nothing to do with the family business

Loves taking things apart to see how they work then putting them back together. He's done this to his PC a lot.

Really such a sweetheart but he has a dark side that feels a lot like a caged animal.

He's not afraid to show you this side because he's proud of it, it's kept him and his kin safe time and time again, why wouldn't he want you to know he'd do anything for you?

Does not like large public spaces, he needs to have a clear way in and out of any area.

Has mad anxiety, takes meds for it.

Works out every day, his favorite way to do so is jogging, he loves being able to just turn off his brain and go.

He meets you on one of those jogs!! Runs right past your art studio but stops when he sees you about to drop this heavy ass box you're attempting to move in a truck.

"Woah- I got you don't worry." He said in an attempt not to scare you as he was some random man running at you from across the street.

You'd peak your head out with the sweetest smile he's ever seen. The honest gratefulness in your eyes warmed him to his core.

"Oh thank you!- I appreciate it." Sure the words were simple but paired with that sheepish little laugh brought heat to his cheeks, he had the sudden to urge to fix his hair, make sure he looked presentable because holy shit were you gorgeous.

You're in a dust covered pair of overalls, your hair is windswept, and you still knocked the breath from his lungs.

"Whatcha' got in there?-god sorry if it's personal you don't need to, I'm sorry." He was very obviously flustered but he was so cute it only added to the charm.

"It's some clay my friend asked for- I had some extra from this project I'm working on- anyway thank you so much.." She trailed off waiting for his name. "Gabriel, you can call me Gabe." His voice was deep and warm like molasses on a hot cookie.

He asks for your number then and there and your fate is sealed.

He runs home faster than he's ever run before, like straight to his apartment, straight to the laptop, doesn't even close the front door kinda rushing.

You only gave him your first name but since he knew you most likely worked at the pottery studio he met you outside of he could find what he needed easily.

He wasn't the most technology savvy man out there but he managed to find a few of your socials and made a quick call to a friend, he has a lot of connections and it was nothing to get the info he needed.

He's a straight shooter and texts you asking for a coffee date that night.

You accept, and despite not usually entertaining men you'd only met that day, he had this captivating energy that had you accepting before you could talk yourself out of it.

The date would be dummy cute, he shows up with flowers and what was supposed to be a quick cup of coffee turns into an all day adventure where you just talked and talked about everything and nothing.

He has you laughing the entire date, blushing from the sheer intensity of his gaze. He was blunt in the way where he said whatever was on his mind.

"I'm sorry- Ima be real I didn't catch a word you just said- the sun hit your face and I had to take a second. Holy shit- you're stunning." His genuine disbelief along with the way he shyly inched his hand to interlock your fingers had your heart skipping a few beats.

He's so into love and the idea of being entirely wrapped up in it.

Before you know it it's getting dark and if he's not walking you to your door he's politely demanding you let him know when you're safe and sound.

The kinda person who makes sure your seatbelt is on or if you're walking on the sidewalk he'll always take the street side just in case.

Would jump out of his coat if you gave the slightest inclination you were cold.

He once balled up his hoodie and threw it at you from across the room like a basketball, like he jumped and dunked.

If you wear fake lashes first time you take em off he the type of dude to be terrified thinking you're just yanking out your real one's.

If he has stuff in his hands and you jump at him he will launch the items if it means catching you better.

Definitely the type to randomly come up to you and silently demand affection.

He wants you to go with him to the gym just to see him be hot. N like maybe give him a reward kiss every time he completes a set.

Surprisingly graceful for such a big dude.

He's an all or nothing type, makes that abundantly clear on the phone one night as he'd gotten in the habit of falling asleep to your voice.

"I want you. Entirely. And I've never been good at denying myself." He'd sound so sure, so certain in his words it made your brain go a bit fuzzy.

Possessive in a hot way not an icky controlling way.

Like if someone hits on you in front of him he has to physically distract himself so he doesn't commit a crime in broad daylight.

Instead whenever his jealously is triggered he becomes a koala, latches himself to your back like a demon, his massive form hovering behind you whenever you went.

"My girl can dress however she wants. I can fight."

Does not tolerate any disrespect towards you or your relationship.

Some girl tried to grind on him at the club and he threw his drink at her.

Petty as HELL when mad, he has a shit list and you do not want to be on it.

Protective as hell, if you indulge his little tendencies (putting sunblock on you if it's warm out, always bringing extra snacks incase you get hungry when you're working) he will start talking about marriage lmao

Speaking of he loves to linger around your studio whenever he can, be warned he will distract you by being adorable so working will be hard but it's totally worth it.

Nicknames for you are : Baby girl, Ma', WIFEY,(almost always followed by a kiss) Darlin', Mi Amor.

He's struggled with insomnia before so he knows a thing or two.

Once you start sleeping over more he notices your nocturnal habits and quickly adjusts.

If you ever get up because you just can't sleep and need to get some energy out he always wakes up.

He can't sleep without you so if you're gone longer than a minute sirens go off in his mind and he's wide awake.

If you wanna watch TV until you can finally rest you know he's right there with you, likes to have you resting in his lap so he can wrap himself around you entirely.

If you simply want to exist in silence he can do that to, so long as he's with you he knows peace.

It wouldn't take long for you to realize his family's secret.

Gabe can keep a secret from anyone.

Except you.

Sometimes his Father would call for him at odd hours of the night, and he'd have to shoot out of bed with little explanation.

You'd wake up to the lightest pressure on your forehead as he kissed you goodbye.

"Shit- go back to sleep Baby, somethin' going down at the shop, they need me." He'd say this cradling your still half asleep face, gently thumbing over your cheeks before stealing another kiss.

He'd come back hours later, the sky still dark and he always showered and put his clothes in the washer before he came to lay back down.

After a while these constant exits would have you a little worried, while yes he was the single most loyal man you'd met and the idea of him cheating seemed laughable, especially considering how seriously he took you, you knew he was hiding something.

Eventually our boy slips up and leaves some blood on his shirt, it was splattered on like paint and yeah at first you were a bit terrified at the concept of your boyfriend being violent then you really started to think about it.

The way he talked about people he didn't like, that look in his eye whenever you told him someone had upset you, how he seemed almost eager to fight at any time.

It made sense.

Then there's the way he talks about his family's shop.

"It's kinda' fun working down there- yeah it can get messy but that's my favorite part."

"I mean Jimmy knew what kinda' businessman pops is- no wonder he die- retired. No wonder he uh, retired. 👀"

It's embarrassing how slick he thinks he is.

It all comes to its boiling point when one day you two are out and bump into a smaller, who at the sight of your loving boyfriend, goes pale as a sheet, nearly dropping the bags in his arm.

"H-Hey Gabe! Boy it's been a minute huh? Listen tell your pops I ain't ducking him or nothing I swear!-" The man said practically vibrating in place, sweat pooling down his flustered face. He was petrified.

Gabe cut him off with a look, his eyes glancing between you and the vermin across him.

"It's Gabriel. Only my friends get to call me Gabe. Do you think we're friends Joey?" You'd never heard this tone from your boyfriend before, it was cold and dry, as if was an entirely different person speaking.

His hold on your waist would tighten when the trembling man looked to you.

"Aye don't look at her look at me, I'm the one talking to you right?." He sneered down, he didn't move and still had the stranger flinching. "Your mama never taught you manners or somethin'?"

"My apologies- really Gabriel, I didn't mean nothin' by it." And with that he'd practically run away, checking over his shoulder every few seconds as if he though Gabe would be following.

"Forgive me, Amor. Some people-" he sucked his teeth before shaking off his nasty look. His fingers began dancing against your side.

"He owe your dad some money?" You'd ask figuring the interaction far too intense to be about a late car job or something.

Gabe would respond honestly before thinking, "Yeah, little bastard has been dodging me all week now he wants to come up to us- nevermind that, let's go were gonna miss the movie!" His flustered response would break all tension, but you'd gotten all the confirmation you needed.

All in all this big bad bastard just needs someone to hold his leash and accept his particular brand of love.

#yandere #yananswers #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc gabe #yandere oc x reader #gabriel delmont #gabe delmont x reader #gabe x reader

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rebelspykatie · 7 months

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Kinktober Day One: Mutual Masturbation

When they moved into this place, just the two of them, Steve never expected for this to happen. He needed somewhere to go after his parents sold the house and Eddie wanted to give Wayne some space of his own. Neither of them had the means to live on their own, even with the government hush money, but they did have enough to get a place together.

So in September of that fateful year they defeated Vecna, they moved into a shitty two bedroom apartment with the thinnest walls and the smallest kitchen. It wasn’t much, but it was home. They painted the walls and hung up curtains at Robin’s insistence, making it homey and less like a meth lab might have possibly once existed in their living room.

Eddie finds a job with a mechanic and gets his GED, while Steve tries out some community college courses with Robin, picking up minimum wage jobs here and there to keep them afloat. It’s not perfect, but it works.

What Steve doesn’t think about until it’s too late, is exactly how thin the walls are. The layout of their place is a big rectangle, with a living room on one end, kitchen in the middle, and the bedrooms at the end of a hall. The two bedrooms are stationed directly next to each other, just a wall separating them, with a bathroom in the hallway that they share.

It doesn’t take more than a few days for Steve to realize the mistake he’s made. It’s late one night, both of them having gone to their rooms when Steve hears it. The unmistakable sound of someone getting off. And it’s not just anyone, it’s without a doubt Eddie that he’s hearing. They’ve been there enough nights at this point for Steve to know it’s louder than when the couple next door is going at it. Their sounds are muffled, a little more distant, easy to ignore. This is like surround sound in their quiet apartment.

Breathy moans filter through the wall, little huffs and groans that reverberate in Steve’s ears. If he closes his eyes, it’s like Eddie is lying right beside him. Eddie’s bed frame is old, something they thrifted when they moved in, and it squeaks when you move too vigorously. Steve can almost time the motion of Eddie’s hips with the creaking sound that he’s hearing, can learn the rhythm of how Eddie’s stroking his cock from the pattern the bedpost is drumming on the wall.

He clenches his eyes shut and puts a pillow over his head, trying to drown out the sounds, but they just get progressively louder and Steve resigns himself to having to sit through this. He learns a lot about Eddie that night, like how long he can go before he comes, the way he likes to change the rhythm, speeding up and slowing down to edge himself, the high pitched keen that leaves his throat when he does finally come. It’s overwhelming information to have about one of your best friends.

He doesn’t know what to do with the tent in his own boxers that he tries to push down with the heel of his hand. Something electric sings through his veins when he touches his own cock while he knows Eddie is touching his on the other side of the wall. He pulls the pillow over his head again and tries to imagine anything else to get his erection to go down, eventually falling asleep once Eddie’s finished.

He doesn’t know how to bring it up the next morning. How do you tell your best friend you know what they sound like when they come now? How does he tell Eddie that he wishes he could edge himself that long before shooting off? He doesn’t. He keeps it to himself and ends up suffering through several more nights of this. He’s taken so many cold showers and gotten himself off hurriedly so as not to run up their water bill. Too scared to get off in his own bed with Eddie on the other side, knowing exactly what it sounds like through the walls.

Then, one Friday night, he finally gets a chance. Eddie is at band practice, gone for the evening. He won’t be back until at least ten, so Steve has the apartment to himself. He takes it nice and slow, working himself up, running his hands along his thighs, palming his nipples, pinching and twisting them. It feels like forever before he wraps a hand around his cock. It’s like sinking into a warm bath after a long day. Too long since he could take his time and really touch himself.

Grabbing the lube from his nightstand, he pours some into his hand and fists his cock again, sighing at the glide, the slick, cool sensation that lights up every nerve in his body. He pumps his fist slow and steady, swirling his palm over the head and then back down. He doesn’t even know when he closes his eyes and starts to fantasize, his thoughts drifting to a lot of different things, but one thing stands out. The image he’s conjured of Eddie doing this exact same thing in his own room. He’s unconsciously setting the same rhythm he remembers Eddie set that first night, speeding up and slowing down at the same rate.

Maybe Eddie was onto something because he’s never been so turned on in his whole life. He feels a pang of guilt that he’s getting off to things his friend gets off to, but there’s no way he can turn that part of his brain off right now. The lack of privacy has really started to get to him, so he lets it all out, moans coming out louder than normal, getting it out of his system before he has to go back to blue balls every night until he can shower the next day.

And maybe he should’ve taken more precautions, been a bit more conscious of his surroundings and that plans can change because he doesn’t hear the front door. He doesn’t hear anything except his own moans until Eddie is already in his room and he hears the bed squeak, halting his movement on this side of the wall.

He holds his breath, so close to the edge that he doesn’t want to stop, tightening his fist around the base of his cock to stop himself from shooting off right then. He almost cries out in frustration at being interrupted, but he waits to see what Eddie is going to do. There’s no way he missed the sounds Steve was making, he has to know what Steve is up to, and he didn’t knock on his door to say hi like he normally does when he gets home, so he definitely knows Steve is busy. You could probably hear a pin drop in their apartment at the sudden silence, but it doesn’t last long. Eddie’s bed creaks, the rustling of sheets, and then Steve can hear the familiar sound of Eddie stroking his own cock.

And if he thought palming his cock down in his shorts felt electric before, it’s nothing like the weight of his dick in his hand as he knows Eddie is doing the same on the other side of the wall. He was too close to finishing before to stop now, he can’t just roll over and pretend like this isn’t happening. As quiet as he can manage, he starts to stroke his cock again. Biting down on the knuckles of his other hand to stifle a moan.

It’s wrong to do this, but Eddie has to know what he was up to, and he has to know now that Steve can hear him when he’s going at it. Something about that knowledge and them still touching their cocks together, lights him up from the inside. His cock has never felt more alive, more ready to hurdle over that edge, but then he hears it. It’s so soft and muffled that he thinks he imagined it, but it rings in his ears anyways.

Through the wall, he hears Eddie moan his name. It’s strangled, like he’s face down on a pillow or covering his face with an arm, but it’s distinguishable and Steve’s never been more aroused in his life. It only takes a few more pumps before he’s coming all over his chest, grunting and panting as if he just ran a marathon, unable to hold it in any longer.

And then like a flip has switched, Eddie’s moans get louder, amplified like Steve’s orgasm has given him confidence that he’s allowed to do this. Steve’s heard a lot of them at this point, but this one feels different, like Eddie is putting on a show just for him. He just sits in his drying come, afraid to break the spell, listening to Eddie finish himself off. A resounding smack of a hand hitting the wall between them makes him jump, but he’s even more surprised to hear his name, no longer an embarrassed whimper into the night, but a loud unmistakable shout.

Steve’s not really sure where to go from here but he guesses they’re about to figure it out when a quiet knock on his door startles him upright a few minutes later.

AO3

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes #and they were roommates

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portsandstars · 1 month

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I recently got an ask about how I made my Vere cosplay, so I thought I'd write an (overly descriptive) explanation about what I did! Note that I have very minimal sewing and cosplay experience, so it's quite possible that there are many better ways to achieve the same look.

If you're interested in recieving the pattern that I used, please DM me, and I'll send you the files. Note that the pattern is only made to my measurements(I am very tall and small chested) and I have also altered the pattern after working with it some, though not altered the PDF.

Some of my explanations won't be the most clear, I'm happy to explain more in the comments or dms- I'm just limited on the number of pictures:)

Below the readmore because u guys this is going to be a bit exhaustively long :>

The pattern pieces for the top

I got a pattern after commissioning someone on Fiverr for about $60 dollars (let me know if you want their contact info). They were not very interested in reference photos and instead wanted me to sketch the garment I needed. I made a mock-up in a day after receiving the pattern files (took me about 8-10 hours lol). I requested a few edits from the pattern maker and recieved a second pattern. From there, I made multiple mockups and edited the PDF pattern to:

- shorten the smallest sleeve

- increase the curve of the front shirt edge

- add an unofficial collar band to increase collar height

- change the angle of the piping seam to enter the armhole at much more of a slanted angle

- increase the height and shape of the side waist openings (they are still lower than is accurate).

- add a sleeve gusset bc I couldn't move my arms (the sleeves are still tough, I'd recommend altering the dark purple sleeves if you make this)

- making the floatly sleeves way more voluminous.

Here are some photos of the top. I bought a crotch snap bodysuit premade and cut it after someone helped me pin the top to it. This is to help keep the top "tucked in" to the belt without bunching, while still allowing you to go to the bathroom. There need to be snaps because I taped the top to my skin, so you don't want to pull the top off your shoulders as you would a romper.

Ok, now let's see where the pattern pieces go to the shirt:

Fabric

I used a satin fabric for this top. I chose this primarily because it looked the closest to the right color that I could find (rather than being interested in the sheen). I'd say that it kinda sucked to work with because it frays exceptionally easily, though it does look pretty. The lilac fabric is a cotton fabric that I used throughout this project to add weight and stability - the color doesn't matter. I also used a medium weight black fabric (?), Silver pleather, and lightweight interfacing.

- back of the garment was purple satin underlined with lilac cotton

- front (orange) piece was purple satin with lightweight iron on interfacing

- collar (blue) was purple satin with the lightweight interfacing not in the seam allowances.

- front (red) piece was purple satin, iron on interfacing, and underlined lilac cotton.

- black boarder on the front (green) was a thick black fabric that was in a discount bin. Highly recommend you use a thin black cotton because the thickness of this fabric gave me a lot of trouble. Interfaced the center of these pieces.

- facings for the side opening (front and back of garment) were made from the lilac fabric and interfaced with lightweight interfacing EXCEPT for the seam allowance.

- tiny sleeve (yellow) was interfaced to give it structure, but not in the seam allowances

- I really struggled with the tension on my machine so I never sewed the satin alone. On the long, dark purple sleeves I added iron on interfacing ONLY to the seam allowance to give the seam stability so I could sew it.

- the silver piping around the collar and glued onto the front is made from a silver pleather. On one hand, this sucked to work with because my strategy involves sewing through ~10 layers of it at least, which is very hard(thimble needed). BUT, If you don't use silver pleather, I'd say your silver fabric MUST NOT FRAY for you to use the techniques I used.

STEPS TO CONSTRUCT (~30-40 hours).

You definitely need to make a mock-up unless you are very experienced. I made about 4-6 (would alter one sleeve but not bother changing the other, etc).

1. Cut all pieces except for facings, black boarder, and floaty sleeves out of purple satin.

2. Cut cotton support fabric for the following pieces - back, red, gussets, side facings (4 total)

4. Cut black boarder/facing (4 total).

3. Cut and iron on interfacing - center of collar, red (not seam allowance), orange (not seam allowance), tiny sleeve (not seam alloance), black boarder/facing- only needed on the outside ones(not seam allowance). Interfacing for the side facings. If you have issues with sewing the satin, also iron on interfacing on the seam allowances, and add it to purple satin that is alone (the long sleeves).

4. Baste all underlining fabric to the purple satin by hand (back, sleeve gusset, red).

5. Stay stitch in the seam allowance all pieces

6. Zigzag stitch all pieces.

7. Lay the lilac side facing on top of the right side of front orange piece, interfacing of the facing touching the right side of the fabric. Sew together along the inner curve. Notch the seam allowance here so it can bend easier. Flip facing to the wrong side of the garment. Iron flat. Pull the notches to the facing side and understitch. Iron again. Sew the top and bottom of the facing edges into the seam allowance of the side seam of the garment and the hem of the garment so they don't flop as much. Do the same thing on the the second orange piece (mirrored). Then do this twice, once for each side curve on the back piece.

8. Yayyy now it's time to attach the black edge. Choose your prettiest of the two of each mirrored piece to be the outside ones. Hem the longer edge of all 4 black facing pieces. Lay the facing, right side facing up, on top of the right side of the orange piece along the front hem. Sew directly on top of your hemming stitches so it is attached about an inch in. Try to not go out of the hem stitches at all. Then, lay a second facing on TOP of the facing u just sewed, wrong side facing up. Sew along the edge through all three layers. Notch this seam. Flip the top facing to the inside of the garment and iron flat. Understitch the inside facing. Iron again. Sew along the black facings inside the seam allowance of the top edge of the orange piece. Below are my notes to myself about this if they would help you LMFAO.

9. U can hem the orange piece now if you want to, I chose to not bc there is sooo much more stuff to do!!

10. Hand baste the red piece to your completed/with facings orange piece along the bottom edge of the red piece/top of orange. You're gonna have to rip this out later but you need to add the collar and measure the length of the piping that will go here and it needs to be attached to do this.

11. attach the back of the top at the shoulder seam. you can also pin or baste the side seams now under the arm hole but note that the size will be really different here with the sleeve gores later added. this turns it into a vest yayy its taking shape

12. iron all the seams u got going on

13. Hem the interior edge of the red pieces so that the collar can attach over it. Use a basting stitch bc you're going to have to undo part of this later 🙃

13. make the collar. tbh I'd recommend watching a tutorial for this, it is pretty similar to any men's dress shirt, especially a mandarin collar. sew the collar along the neckline of the garment.

14. Measure from the side seam under the arm, along the hem of red all along the back collar, to the other side seam under the other arm to see how long your piping needs to be. You can make it a bit longer than it needs to be. i chose to use piping because I couldn't find a silver cord that resembled this detail going around the collar of his shirt, and this seemed like the best solution. It would be far easier to use a silver cord if you can find it tho :). If you found cord that you liked, you could simply sew red to orange directly.

15. make the piping! This whole part is the worst part of the whole garment. You should have a thimble and strong handsewing needles. And probably pliers to pull the needle through. I cut long strips 4 of the silver pleather and bought 2 mm wide nylon cord. I then folded the strip around the cord and handsewed really close to the cord with white thread. You could machiene sew this but personally I found that it wasn't "tight" enough to the cord for me. Two of the piping strips you should cut most of the seam allowance off, the other two should be a normal amount of seam allowance on the piping.

16. Line up your 4 piping strips into a stack and measure across them to determine their width. You next want to create the ILLUSION of more piping. The way I did this was I took a wider strip of silver, the width of the 4 piping strips + one hypothetical extra piping on the top and one on the bottom and cut a strip this wide + lots of extra seam allowance that was about the length of the shirt collar. Then, I hemmed it deeply, so my hem stitches would be close to the center of the strip. There's NO cord in this piece. Then, I hand sewed this flat piece to the collar of the shirt.

17. Next, I bent my piping strips in half and marked the center points on each with a pin. I took one with long seam allowance and laid it flat so the seam allowance lay facing right, and then laid the other piping with seam allowance overlapping the previous piping facing left. Then the piping with very small seam allowance goes on top of this. Diagram crossection below, with the circles representing the cord of the piping, and = representing the orientation of the seam allowance.

O O

O=====

======O

In this way, the piping can be sewn into a continuous strip that is sturdy, without the seam allowance showing. I handsewed the piping pieces together, working from the center, for about 5 inches of length, snaking sideways through the cording of the piping with white thread so it's joined into one continuous strip. Then, I began to handsew this piping to the collar on top of the silver flat fake piping that u already sewed there. Make sure the center of the piping goes to the center of the collar. From there, you alternate handsewing the piping to itself into one continuous strip, and then handsewing it to the collar.

18. As you work, you're going to have to sew it along the edge of the red piece once you're done with the collar. You can initially sew it to the hem that you established before on the red piece. However, when the red piece meets the orange piece (at the black fabric) you need to undo the hem of the red piece there and cut a slit in the fabric (visible below). This is because the hem of the red piece now needs to hang down and attach to the orange piece, so you need the material. Your piping here will go between the red and orange pieces. You also need to cut your basting stitches here so u can sew it for real. You should gradually and evenly spaced - end each line of piping along the top of the orange, so that by the time you're at the armhole, only one piping line is remaining. I chose the bottom silver line on the collar to be my longest piping strip, as this matches (more) of the reference photos). Rather than sew through all 12- 14 layers (...) I found it easier to do a stairstep method. I sewed my first piping strip to the red, then I sewed my second piping to the first piping(but NOT to the red), my third piping to the second, my fourth to the third, and my orange piece to the fourth. Throw in some stitches that bridge more layers as a failsafe and be diligent here bc the structure of the garment depends on it lol.

19. Fantastic ! U made it through the hardest part! Hem the long purple sleeves. Gather the top of the floaty sleeves. Sew the inner seams of the floaty sleeves. Sew the inner seams of the 2 long sleeves together. Leave the length of the V of the gusset unsewed at the top of the sleeve seam. Hem the edge of your tiny sleeves (yellow).

Now you need to attach the sleeves. I sewedthe gauze to half the gusset by hand first. Next I handsewed the gusset to both the long sleeve and the floaty sleeves, leaving the other V half of it unattached to later put into the side seam under the arm. Next I pinned all three sleeves into the armhole of the top. Tbh ... The size of the armhole seemed wrong so I needed to pleat the top of the of the long sleeve to make it fit (😐). Then I handsewed all three sleeves on each side into the arm hole, and then sewed the gusset into the side of the garment, and then finished the side of the top's seam (where the side facings meet) by hand too. I think it'd be possible to do this by machiene but with all the layers, gathering, and difficult corners from the gusset, it was way easier to handsew it imo. Now do the other sleeve wow so fun

20. Get a silver ribbon /string and handsew the sleeve decorations in place. I've found that piercing the silver cord tends to make it get ugly and split so instead I sewed the ends down and then went around the cord like belt with belt loops. Leave a tiny amount of give here so it doesn't strangle ur arm. Try and make the other sleeve the same lol.

21. Cut EVA foam (very thin mm foam) into LONG strip for the vertical silver detailing. Handsew the Eva foam to your top where the silver detailing is. Honestly I might wait to do this until your belt is done bc the position of the bottom half of these lines depends on where your belt sits. But, the purpose of the Eva foam is that it provides a solid base for your silver fabric to glue to that will bend with the garment well and the glue won't stiffen or distort your fabric. Afterwards you'll glue it to the foam with contact cement or fabric glue (needs to be able to flex).

22. Personally I sewed snaps that connect to the chest harness on the inner black boarder because 1) this allows a bit of the weight of the harness to be taken off of your neck/collar, and 2) allows your top to be held closer to your body (lower chance of flashing people). Make sure to only sew them to the interior black facing, not showing to the other side. I also sewed tacking stiches through the interior facing (hidden in the hem stitching) to hold the interior black facing down. My harness was waistband elastic, stabilized with cotton so it's not stretchy, with velcro attaching to itself through the ring. So each side of the harness at the ring is velcro folded back onto itself after being looked through the ring.

23. I also sewed the snap crotch thing to it. You need to wear the top and the body suit and have someone pin the top so that it's pulled somewhat taut by the bodysuit. The small section between the left and right side of the top (by the bellybutton) of the waistband of the bodysuit I stabilized with cotton again because you don't want that part getting stretched out and widening over time. If you're someone who maybe doesn't have boobs or doesn't care about flashing people, you could just sew it to some shorts. The idea here is to keep it held down AND be able to use the bathroom later WITHOUT pulling all ur fashion tape off in the stall and then reapplying it each time.

Look here for the part two (belt/skirt explanation).

#touchstarved #touchstarved cosplay #vere #touchstarved vere #cosplay #mine #personal #ask #touchstarved game

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