#so if anyone is willing to chip in for either my breaks or maybe for me to pick up weed I would appreciate it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aizawaskittenwhore · 3 years

Text

𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦.

𝘧𝘵. 𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰, 𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪 (+𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘸𝘢.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 18+ 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴: 1.5𝘬

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘴/𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺/𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 18. 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘪 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺. 𝘮𝘸𝘢𝘩.

“man, fuck you, the horse you rode in on, and your weak ass dick! just leave me the fuck alone.” you spit, arms crossed as you shoot the man in front of you a glare hot like jet fuel.

𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶:

izuku midoriya is one of the sweetest people to grace the earth

there’s no doubt about it.

but know he is not afraid to put yo ass in a fucking headlock and pound his way into you, voice thick and raspy as he asks you just who the fuck you think you’re talking to.

he’s grown up quite a bit since high school

and refuses to get bitched by anyone, especially his own girlfriend.

a saccharine smile inches across peony pink lips, spreading over porcelain teeth

“you uh... you wanna repeat that, honey?”

you know you’ve made a mistake

he’s got that look in his eye, ravenous and wicked

“look...izuku, baby, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to snap like that—“

“that’s not what i asked. i asked you...if you wanna repeat that.”

would definitely strap your ankles to a spreader bar, reveling in the way you continue to writhe against it

only to cry out in desperation once you realize that the more you struggle, the wider your legs go

or he’ll make you cry as you struggle to form a coherent apology, words choppy from the the remote controlled vibe is sending shockwaves through your heavily sensitive clit

he’d kneel above you, smile wide and innocent as he turns it up to the second most powerful setting, hard-on growing at the sight of your head lolling back while you try to appease him with sorry after sorry

“i-izuku—fuck, fuck! mmh— it’s too much....please, please, ‘m sorry! i didn’t mean it, ’m too sensitive—please just let me make it up to you baby—“

“all you gotta do is say the magic words sweetheart, and i’ll give you what you need.”

yeah, he’s one of those motherfuckers.

“remind me who’s pussy this is, and this’ll all be over with.”

“god, fine!! it’s yours okay! nobody else’s..now please, please fuck me izuku, i need you—“

doesn’t hold back for a second when he’s staking his claim all over your body, a calloused thumb roving over your clit gently, mindful of your sensitivity but edging you closer and closer to a fifth orgasm

happily smears strings of thick, sticky cum all over your stomach to mark you as his

and doesn’t hesitate to lick it off the supple, soft skin of your torso, the milky white substance congealing with transparent slippery saliva

he grasps your face firmly, fingers pushing your cheeks inwards and causing your spit slicked lips to jut out in a pretty little pout

“open.” he mutters before dripping the salty concoction onto your awaiting tongue, a throaty groan rumbling in his chest as he watches you happily swallow every last drop

“good girl.”

the aftercare is immaculate, izuku taking his time to wipe you clean so tenderly, lips pressing against each and every bruise, your body pliant as he whispers sweet reassurances into your sweat soaked skin

“much better now, right?”

you nod, eyes heavy as you sink into the warmth of his chest, hands clinging to him like he could disappear at any moment

“happy i could help you relieve some of that tension honey.”

“but talk to me like that again, and i promise you that’ll be the last time you call anything about me weak, especially how i fuck you. got it?”

prepare to be not only throughly sore the next day, but to have to conceal fingerprint shaped bruises on your hips and thighs

takes pictures of your fucked out face to have for future incidents where you decide you wanna talk like you have zero home training

and isn’t afraid to flash katsuki one or two whenever he gets to talking about how he could take you from him.

𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰:

“so that’s how you wanna act, hm? if you needed some dick you should’ve just fuckin’ said so instead of always runnin’ your damn mouth.”

he whirls you around, pelvis pressing into the small of your back, rivulets of sweat beading at the base of your neck from his close proximity

he’s such a glutton for putting little bitches like you in their place.

blade sharp canines dragging against the curve of your neck, pathetic attempts to maintain your resolve falling from unsteady lips

“the hell’s wrong with you—you already know i’m with izuku...i’m not doing this shit to him again—”

but you were already gone when his lips slotted against yours, body throbbing at the contact

now izuku was a good lover, a giver, a pleaser at heart

always putting your enjoyment above his

but eventually one grows tired of slick tongues and curved fingers, pretty whines and gentle kisses

you wanted “fuck you”s, spit flying along sick expletives hurled at your bowed, desperate figure, sweet sticky semen coating your throat after it was abused and stroked as though you were a piece of plastic.

and as luck may have it, katsuki was more than willing to provide.

yet today you’d had enough, his subtle touches when you passed one another had garnered izuku’s attention; you’d reassured the male that it was nothing to bother with, that the two of you were just coworkers.

at least when his balls aren’t in your slutty fucking mouth, thick bubbled spit dripping onto your home screen as you text izuku that you’ll be home late for “stir-friday” once again.

the best sex was on days like today, when you got just a little too reckless at the mouth

when you needed a not so gentle reminder of who’s leaving you breathless all hours of the night

takes his time with you, fingers teeming with a slight brine as they’re sloppily thrust into your mouth with a “shut the fuck up talking to me like you don’t know who the fuck i am.”

degradation? baby, you’ve met the man.

“wanna act like a bitch, that’s fine. just don’t complain when i leave you limping like one, got it?”

you’re shoved atop a desk, it’s contents forgotten as katsuki latches onto a tit and proceeds to leave mark after mark, striving to rid any trace of your lover

panties tugged to the side, fingerpads waltzing up the length of your—no, his pussy

kisses down your sternum and the plush skin of your stomach, flipping you opposite him before snaking his tongue between your southernmost lips, devouring you like a man starved

but doesn’t let you cum, not yet anyway

“katsuki—please, i need it, don’t fucking tease..”

hates when you whine because it chips at his hard exterior, he’d give anything to pull another cry from you

“beg for it then. you had so much to say earlier, eh? go ahead and put your mouth to better use, fuckin’ slut.”

spanks you while he eats it from the back cause he can

and don’t even get me started on his size kink

lives for making you feel small against his large stature and even larger ego

“damn, you’re tight...thought deku would’ve broken you in a bit more for me by now—”

his pace is angry and unforgiving like his mouth, leaving you no mercy when he finally takes his place between your thighs

“that’s it...take that shit. don’t run...come on, tell me who’s dick you go dumb for, say it—“

“yours! j-just yours, never ‘zuku. fuck! m’ so fucking close please, please—“

cant fill you up like he wants, but settles for painting your body with splotches of white, watching them mix with your now-purpling bruises

and when izuku calls your phone on the hour to ask when you’ll be home, that cocky fuck answers

“relax. your little girlfriend and i are at the office with some reports, she’s so damn uptight...been on my dick this entire time. “

“should probably loosen her up more, maybe she’d be less annoying.”

𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪:

he secretly loves it when you get like this

while dabi loves the rush of tossing around some brainless slut with a thing for fucking mass murderers

pussy was much better when it came with a little resistance, a little push back before he got what he wanted

“dabi come on..let her be. i’m sorry sweetness, this guy botherin’ you?”

his counterpart, keigo, was a top tier scumbag with grade-A looks, words mingling with a dulcet voice that could turn water into wine if he pleased

sienna wings bristled against his shoulder blades as he leaned down, an arm coming across your chest casually, bent over the back of the couch

“don’t call me that shit. actually, both of you are bothering me.” you grit, a hand swatting away tanned nimble fingers that were slowly making their way towards a breast

“see what i mean kei? she’s being a fucking brat. can’t stand bitches like her, always thinking they’re too good for guys like us.”

dabi takes a seat to your left, cyan eyes raking over the curve of your hips ravenously, staples gleaming in the bar’s gentle yellow glow

he was going to have so much fun breaking you in.

“ i think i know what her problem is....somebody just wants a little attention, right? hell, look at how she’s dressed...”

keigo’s eyes have taken on a darker energy, a hand winding around the width of your neck and squeezing lightly

“i don’t want anything from either of you assholes—wait, the hell are you trying to—ah!”

taking advantage of your pliant state, dabi’s hands begin to roam over exposed skin, a scarred set of hands slithering up your top

his abrasive fingers tweak your nipples roughly, rolling them between a forefinger and thumb with a lustful glare

“come on...don’t you want us to make you feel good? tell us you don’t want us to cream you like a fuckin’ twinkie, and we’ll leave your bitchy ass high and fucking dry, just like this.”

you hate them, the last thing you want is for either of these douchebags to be what gets you off

but god do keigo’s lips feel like heaven on earth when they’re against your pulse point like that, and dabi’s profuse experience shows in the way he manipulates your body to make you sigh in ecstasy, fingers slipping past drenched lace with ease to tease your sensitive clit...

“we—we shouldn’t do this out here, someone might see...s-shit, ah fuck—”

“so what? don’t want everyone to see how much you like getting double teamed?” keigo taunts, tongue darting out to soothe the harsh bruise he’d finished sucking into the skin beneath your ear

“nah, i think we’ll take you right here. besides, it’s just us and the boss man tonight. ‘should let him watch though, maybe he’d learn a thing or two about what a good fuck really looks like instead of that hentai shit.”

“so...you in or not? my hand’s starting to cramp.”

you nod, the motion serving at the catalyst for a number of debaucherous things that would soon happen to your body

marking is an absolute must

keigo’s practically feral once he knows you’re his to play with, love bites littering the expanse of your tits, neck, even the inside of your thighs

dabi marks you too, but he’s not nearly as nice as keigo, leaving handprints all over your ass, each one accompanied by a harsh yet tolerable burn

you can thank his quirk for that

they’re sloppy and they know it, dabi’s spit creating web-like strings connecting your pussy lips together, the metal barbell wedged between tongue muscle retreating from beneath your trembling thighs

meanwhile keigo’s reveling in the way your spit coats his dick in an effortless gloss, a hand keeping your head steady as he drives into your throat with reckless abandon

the saliva making its way down through the valley of your breasts while you struggle to breathe, eyes watering in both panic and pleasure as the two use you like a toy

they take turns, metal and heady sweat flood your tastebuds when dabi takes on keigo’s previous stance

dabi certainly makes sure you give his balls special attention. it doesnt enhance his pleasure, he just likes seeing you get so nasty for him.

not so high and mighty when you’re gargling the dick of one of japan’s most wanted, are you?

keigo’s dick reaches depths you didn’t think possible, tip prodding your innermost spots and making you sputter pathetically around dabi’s length, eyes burning as you try to control the heat in your lungs

“nah nah nah, don’t get all teary eyed now—thought it was “fuck us and our weak ass dick”? hm? well this weak ass dick’s makin’ you choke like a two dollar whore, and keigo’s about to pump that sloppy cunt full of cum...still think you’re better than us?”

you’re tossed between the two men like a ragdoll, until your body’s spent and you’re bred so good that you drip with their mix of fluids every time you shift a little

the men don’t hesitate to compliment your endurance, praising you for being “such a good little fucktoy”.

which in dabi’s words, is the closest you’ll ever get to a “sorry for bothering you”.

𝘢𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘸𝘢:

let me tell you a thing or two about shota.

he has no time, or tolerance, for bullshit.

between his atrocious sleep schedule, nightly patrols, and his day job as a high school teacher, he doesn’t have the capacity for mind games

so when you’d snapped on him like that, he did what he felt like was the most logical thing

he left you alone. he wasn’t about to get into some childish argument all because he didn’t give you the reaction you’d wanted over a dress

aizawa’s not a reactive man by nature

so when you’d purchased the sultry number, seams tight and neckline waivering on indecent

he’d merely hummed at the article of clothing in approval, committing the sight to memory before going back to finish reviewing his lesson plans for next week

which to you, wasn’t good enough. you wanted him to exhibit some sort of lust, something that made you feel like you still had him in the palm of your hand

it wasn’t like the two of you weren’t having sex, no not at all. but you wanted to feel like he wasn’t just attracted to you, but craved, desired, was desperate for your touch every now and again

and when he’d given his...lackluster feedback, you exploded, the two of you briefly exchanging words before you’d said that. shota was in no mood to argue, so he excused himself from the room to continue his work

“sorry if i actually want to, you know, feel desired by my own boyfriend? god, it’s like you don’t even look at me anymore.”

that comment stung, even recalling your wounded tone made his heart ache

was he really not paying attention to you?

but, unsurprisingly, the feelings of anger didn’t abate. just what made you think you could play these games with him, the two of you were grown, you knew if you wanted something all you had to do was ask—it made no sense

steel pen tip digging into the hurried scrawl of kaminari’s essay....if you could even call it that, he rose from his desk, relieved his tense neck from the presence of hair by knotting it into a high ponytail

beginning to strip as he made his way toward your shower

you wanted him to look at you? alright. he’d do exactly that, and then some. just remember, be careful what you wish for.

“shota? look... i’m sorry for how i acted earlier. i should’ve just communicated how i felt instead of blowing up on you like that, i just get frustrated with how much you work and how we never see each other, and it makes it hard for me to—mmph!”

he meets your lips with a subdued roughness, hands splayed across your hips, water trickling across stiffened knuckles while he fumbled and scoured for any piece of you he could manage to grasp

“you said you feel like i don’t look at you anymore.”

“lets fix that. i have a proposition for you. if you manage to hold eye contact with me for however long it takes for you to cum, my body’s yours to do whatever you want with.”

“however...look away for even a second, and i’ll have no problem reminding you just how much you can take before you’re begging for me to fuck you. you know how...efficient i can be. sound fair?”

now something he’d alluded to, but never said about this little agreement? there was no way for you to win.

on days where his exhaustion levels weren’t at an all time low, he’d find himself lapping at the slightly acidic, rich nectar between your thighs for hours and hours on end

so what made you think you even had the resolve to maintain eye contact the entire time?

you lose, though that was to be expected

and shota couldn’t be happier about it

now while it’s practically canon that he’s into bondage, let’s switch things up a bit

honestly, he’s the type to love proving a point.

he’ll make you ride his dick, not letting you stop for a second even though he’s practically in your stomach at this point

bad at it? he doesn’t care. your knees are giving out? not his problem.

“sho-please, i can’t, ‘s too big...fuck—“

“damn, and to think i had ‘weak ass dick’ before. now you can’t take it? pick a side sweetheart, your desperation is showing.”

he’s not incredibly vocal in the bedroom as that’s just not who he is

but makes an exception when it comes to making fun of you

“come on, you can swallow more than that, right? tch. you’ve gotten lazy.”

is another one of those “take a photo for future reference” type of people. but he’s respectful of not only your privacy but his own, and keeps it in the hidden photos folder of his camera roll like a sane adult.

he had to learn the hard way about the importance of concealing scandalous materials that one time hizashi was using screen sharing to suggest a new learning course during a staff meeting

only for the blonde to scroll and several pairs of eyes in the room to be blessed (or cursed) with the sight of a rather ecstatic looking woman bent in a position that would make a gymnast blush

also likes to give you sloppy, shallow half strokes to drive you to the point of insanity before spreading your ass cheeks and molding your body to the bed beneath you

“you wanna know what i was thinking about when you walked out with that dress on? hm? i wondered... ‘how long it would take before we used it as a cumrag after i was done with you?’ i thought about doing this.”

oh, and by the way, there’s a mirror above your bed for a reason. but we’ll get into that some other time, won’t we?

#izuku midoriya x reader #bakugo x reader #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #aizawa x reader #deku smut #bakugo smut #dabi smut #hawks smut #aizawa smut #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #kittybutmakeitferal #thanks once again for 1k you nasties!

2K notes · View notes

oceanid-writes · 3 years

Text

Water and Wine (Yandere Yelena x Reader)

Pairing: Yandere Yelena x Female Reader

Author’s Note: This is my first full fanfic ever, so if anyone has feedback pls lmk!! Just a reminder that since this is technically my first fic, it’s likely not perfect, and please be respectful of that when reading. Additionally, this is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions in this story. I write about different and dark topics to express my imagination and develop character ideas.

This piece is for the Too Hot To Fuck collab hosted by @captainmcslashypaws

Summary: Yelena’s been pining after you, even though the feeling isn’t mutual. With your horrible behaviour, the nice dinner she’s planned has been ruined. You understand she has to punish you for that, right?

Warnings: Non-con, yandere behaviour, drowning, waterboarding, dark themes, smut.

Word Count: 1.2k

The cold hard table slaps your face as you feel yourself being forced onto it again. You can taste the blood running down your face, your teeth chipping with every crack. You can see the tablecloth beginning to turn red under you. This is the fifth, maybe sixth time she’s slammed your face against the table.

“You dumb bitch.” She seethes, yanking you back up by your scalp. It hurts, it hurts badly, but seeing her loom over you with that murderous look on her face replaces everything in you with pure, unfiltered fear.

“Yelena, please,” You plead, hoping to resonate with something inside her. “I don’t know why you’re doing this to me! I know you’re an anti-Marylean volunteer, I know about your mission to Paradis, to help the Yeagers. I don’t get it- I- why are you doing this to me?”

She’s taller than you, much taller, and you’re painfully aware of the height difference and she’s getting closer when she gestures between you to sit down at the table. It seems like she once had it set up for a fancy dinner, with what used to be wine bottles and wine glasses now smashed upon the floor. You wouldn’t want to have dined with her knowing what you know now either way.

Suddenly, she the expression on her face turns neutral. “I think,” She says slowly, “I may have been getting ahead of myself.” You’re thankful that your half-mad kidnapper is willing to talk, talk, and stop grinding your face away. What only happened minutes ago was enough to give you scarring nightmares. “I guess that maybe you haven’t recognized that I’ve been pining after you.” She says suddenly.

What? Pining after you? But you have a boyfriend and-

“I shouldn’t have made assumptions about your… abilities to pick up your surroundings, which I also believe you lack in various other areas, but I can’t deny it stung seeing you with him.”

You know Yelena’s talking about your boyfriend, in the Garrison regiment. You can only pray he’s ok.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, leaning back in your seat to distance yourself from her. She’s terrifying, glowering at you, and then her face suddenly twists into a sharp smile.

“I can come up with a few things I’d like.”

You sit there and stare back blankly, waiting for her first words. She watches you carefully, then throws her head back and begins to laugh.

“At first I just wanted to drink and converse with you, but at this point, I want to take the pace a little quicker.” What is she saying? When you don’t react immediately, she settles back into her seat, still keeping her grin.

“It should be obvious I want to fuck you.” You sit there silently, unmoving, watching her.

“I’m not having sex with you. You’re insane.” You say slowly.

“Maybe,” She shrugs, beginning to stand up. “But you’ll do what I want or I’ll punish you.”

Instead of walking to where you are, Yelena moves towards a large mahogany cabinet at the far end of the room. She pulls out a large canister of water, a piece of cloth, and a human sized board, with a long buckle across the middle. She moves past you to lay the board down onto the table, and sets the water canister on the ground. Finally, cloth in hand, she turns to you.

It’s disturbing how quiet she is, standing there silently while her dark eyes bore into you. All of a sudden, she lifts you up and slams you down and onto the board, making sure to fasten you down right away.

“Hm,” Yelena murmurs. “I think you need to be taught a lesson,”

The last thing you see is a flash of short blond hair before the piece of cloth is forced over your face aggressively. You feel water begin to pour over your face, and your lungs begin to burn. You’re blindly drowning, you’re burning up alive, and all the while you scream.

As soon as the wave of pain comes, it stops, and only the cloth is left on your face.

“Yelena-” You wheeze, still gasping for air. She only shushes you and tightens the strap.

“Apologies, but I had to do that,” You know she’s lying. From the sound of her voice, she seems like she’s enjoying this. “You should understand that this is how I treat bad behaviour from you.”

You stay silent and tense up, as you begin to feel your shirt unbutton.

“This is going to feel good, don’t worry,” Yelena coos, her long fingers working quickly on you.

You feel her lips brush against your skin, peppering you with kisses as she moves down to your chest. She smiles at your nipples, and begins to nip at them. It feels good, in an awful and sick way. The same woman who tried to drown you was now leaving love bites all over your body, and you hate it so as a latch ditch effort you send the best sharp kick you can muster to her crotch. It lands, and for a second she yelps and jolts off you.

For a second, you feel good, until you remember that you’re the one tied down to the board.

Yelena lets out a quiet kind of laugh, before you hear even more clothing being removed. But this time it isn’t yours.

“It’s a good thing I decided to wear the strap today,” She says, and you can’t help but feel scared.

“Now I can fuck you and punish you at the same time.”

You squirm and squirm until you feel your pants being torn off, and something both hard and cold at your entrance. Yelena’s large hand rests on your upper thigh, and within seconds, you feel a thrust and your body being invaded by something too big. It hurts sitting there inside you, and it feels worse when you try to move.

And then, you begin to feel the water trickling over the cloth again, and a burning sensation returns to your lungs. All the while, Yelena begins to move and thrusts inside you. You scream your throat raw, but all Yelena does is laugh and moan.

“You’re so- urgh,” She pants, ignoring your noises. “Finally you’re being good for me.”

Water begins to fill you out even deeper, and you gargle your screams. She laughs even harder, and you feel as if you’re dying. She stops the water, but keeps moving inside you as you lie there coughing. Her bare thighs move against yours, and finally, she slows to a stop. She pulls out, and you hear clothing rustle in front of you.

Yelena pulls the cloth off your face, and leans into you with a kiss. You begin to sob uncontrollably, and she unties you. You have no energy to move or do anything but cry and attempt to thrash around. You know you look like a gutted fish, left on a hook to finish dying.

Yelena’s unreadable face begins to soften at your expense, and she sits on the table next to you, beginning gently caressing your face.

“I may have gotten overexcited,” She says, pulling you closer to her as she pets your head. You hate her. “But I had to break you before I brought you home.”

And just like that, the fear you thought was starting to melt away begins to enter you again. Deep inside, you can’t shake the feeling that the horrible experience you just had wasn’t going to be a one time thing.

#yandere yelena #yelena #yelena x reader #yelena aot #yelena snk #yandere snk #snk #yandere aot #aot #toohottofuckcollab #pining #yandere x you #yandere #yandere fic

319 notes · View notes

hobiiwan · 3 years

Text

mirror • cpt. rex

pairing: captain rex x gn!reader

warnings: post-order 66 angst, hurt-comfort but i thrive in the hurt

w/c: 1.6k

notes: i'm back with lots and lots of feelings bc i've been ghosted and it's 5 am so i should probably sleep but i hope you enjoy :D

lovely gif credit to @pieklalat!

Framed by distant moons and even further stars, the night sky never seemed more vast. If you closed your eyes, it didn’t take much to picture a Republic Star Destroyer slicing through the atmosphere of the moon whose gravity became inescapable, with you in it.

Glancing over your shoulder at where Rex had made camp for the evening, you could tell he was thinking it too. Though his eyes were closed, it was clear as watching a holofilm; reliving the searing heat of plasma bolts, shot from the blasters of his brothers, the ones he had served beside for years—the same ones he had buried just hours prior.

It felt as though there was a vice wrapped in a deadlock around your heart, constricting your chest until it threatened to collapse in on itself. You exhale sharply, willing yourself to push past the hollow ache of the now-dulled Force connection, the flashing faces of the clones and Jedi who had perished under the Order—the fear they had felt in their final moments. It was now your fear that you would never escape it.

The price of surviving the command settles atop your shoulders, making a home. A bitter, weighted reminder that you are here, alive, when you shouldn’t be—when you aren’t supposed to be.

You collapse onto the ground next to Rex, which pulls him back to the present. His eyelids flutter as he blinks slowly, once at you, then back up to the stretching expanse of the inky black overhead. He lets out a sigh, leaning up on his shoulders to cast a weary glance at his surroundings. “How long was I out?” He questions.

You reply with a thoughtful hum, “Not long. You need the rest, anyway.” It’s true. The day’s events have undoubtedly taken its toll on the both of you. But how does one go about resting after being hunted to the death?

“I’ll take first watch. Get some sleep, cyare.” He says, now sitting upright and then you know there’s no point in fighting it. You both need rest, but with the way Rex’s frame is pulled tense as a bow, his hand twitching ever-so-slightly towards his blaster, you know there’s no way he’d rest easy.

So, you offer him a victory, albeit a minute one. You pull his unarmed hand into yours and close your eyes, feeling the way he lets out a shaky breath, releasing some tension along with it. A victory—you’re still here with him.

Neither of you can be certain how long you stay that way. The low croon emitting from the transceiver is the only sign that time actually passes. Neither of you complain about the noise, either. It didn’t need to be said that the silence—this silence, was much too loud.

You do try to sleep, Rex gives you credit for that. Though, after turning for the fifth time (he counts) you give up and sit up beside him. He’s got his knees pressed to his chest, one hand curled tight around his blaster. In his other, his thumb rubs circles against the back of your hand. The answer to whether it soothes you or himself doesn’t matter.

Wordlessly, your head lowers to his shoulder, propped gently against the curve of muscle.

“Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a singer?” You murmur, glancing at the transceiver. You don’t recognise the singer on broadcast, though you do take note of the melody, slow and mellow.

Rex watches as you even try to hum along, as offbeat as you are.

“No,” he huffs something short of a chuckle, “you didn’t.”

He knows what you’re trying to do, sees it clear as day. Yet, as he watches your feet tap to the tempo of the ballad, he can’t stop himself from humouring your attempt to comfort him.

You nod eagerly, eyes widening as if to express your candor. “I was about to be one, too! Then the Jedi came and…”

Rex waits as you trail off, then clocks the far-off look in your eyes. He picks up where you left off. “Would you sing for me now?”

You return in a split second, your lips pulling into a bashful smile as you avoid his eyes. “I’m definitely rusty by now, I don’t want you losing your hearing because of me.”

The Captain nudges you teasingly, grinning when you break into soft laughter. “It would be an honour, though,” he quips.

He wonders how much of you has been hidden behind the mantle of a Jedi’s title. Who would you have been had you not been brought into the Order, raised from young to be one thing, and one thing only? Who would he be?

Once again, Rex is dragged out of his thoughts. This time, you’re tugging him to his feet. It takes an effort and a half, which you currently lack in your fatigued state.

As he looks up at you questioningly, you motion to the transceiver, dropping his hand to raise the volume. It’s enough to provide a comfortable backdrop instead of a desperate attempt to quell silence.

“Dance with me,” you propose softly, “please?”

“I don’t know how to, mesh’la.”

As if pointedly ignoring his feeble protest, your hand remains outstretched, beckoning his participation.

Maker, he’s only ever seen couples dancing on holofilms and is even more certain he has two left feet. But gazing up at your expectant self is like looking at a promise of escaping the sorrow he now knows as reality.

Really, it’s all up to him.

Rex swears he feels three times lighter from the way you beam in delight when he fits his palm into your smaller ones and helps you lift him to full height.

He stands awkwardly, clueless as to where his hands should go, how he should move. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Below him, you soften at the uncertainty tainting his features. Taking mercy on the poor man, you lift a hand to cup his cheek, garnering his attention.

“Put your hands on my waist,” you murmur, eyes twinkling when Rex’s hands fly up to root himself to you. Your own arms loop behind his neck and he takes it as a sign to pull you into his chest, no stranger to the position.

“and now we sway.”

Such a simple command, yet Rex feels like a fish out of water. His limbs are stiff, like the serenity of the movement is a stranger. To an extent, it is.

When you take over, moving him to the beat instead, he gratefully surrenders, allowing himself a moment of tranquility.

The only sounds that reach him become the silky notes of the singer and your soft, steady breaths. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend to be in a distant galaxy, where he is not a clone and you are not a Jedi, where the war is nothing more than a brash concept and his brothers are alive and well.

Rex doesn’t realise he’s crying until your thumb smooths away a tear rolling down his face. His eyes stay closed as he wills himself to keep pretending, but he can’t.

He is still a clone but you are no longer a Jedi. His brothers are gone.

You hold him when he finally breaks, cradling his head close when his shoulders tremble with the force of his sobs. His tears soak into the collar of your singed robes, but you truly can’t find the will to care—not when the man you love is falling apart, barely held together by the threads of your embrace.

“It wasn’t them,” he chokes, shaking his head, a wretched attempt to convince himself, “—it couldn’t be.”

At that, you’re positive your heart shatters. Stars, he doesn’t deserve this. You wish with all your might to take the pain away, to rewind every clock in the galaxy and then the next, but all you can do is watch.

“It wasn’t,” you nod, lowering your forehead to press against his, “not the real them. You know they loved you.” And by the Maker, you know.

Rex’s hands clutch tightly at your robes, as if letting go of that would mean letting go of you. The last tether to what is now his past, his only constant.

What if you hadn’t made it off the ship? What if Ahsoka hadn’t gotten the chip out of him in time? What if he had hurt you?

He briefly registers your voice calling his name, cutting through the despondent scenarios that could have, by any deciding factor, become his present.

“Rex, my love,” you plead, “please look at me.”

When he raises his eyes, he finds that yours are a mirror of his own. The anguish that parallels his agony. He feels you, your presence. He’s never understood much about the Force, but he thinks this is pretty damn close.

“I’m here,” you whisper. The promise of those two words anchor you both. “‘M not going anywhere.”

You mean it. If you believed it before, there was no chance in any star in the galaxy that anyone would be able to tear you away from him now.

For the current moment, you weren’t sure if there was a place to go, even if you wanted. Less than twenty four hours ago, you had been anticipating the end of the Clone Wars. Now, it feels like you’ve been thrown onto the losing side.

“What do we do now?” Rex asks, but you both know there isn’t an answer. There’s no precedent to go off of.

Two of the finest leaders in the GAR and the Jedi Order are lost, with no one left to follow them.

There’s nothing to do but move on.

“We keep living,” you say with a heavy sigh, burying your face into the crook of Rex’s neck, “we live for them. We’ll find a way.”

You always do.

#yoinks sorry i’ve been gone for so long lads #pls take this fic as an offering #rex x reader #captain rex x reader #star wars #the clone wars #the clone wars x reader #the clone wars imagine #captain rex imagine #captain rex oneshot #501st x reader

171 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 4 years

Text

Nothing Fucks with My Baby

The (not so) long awaited Hitman AU 👀

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

TW Blood, minor violence, referenced/implied murder, stalking, implied kidnapping

Iwaizumi has one rule. No kids.

They could be the damn antichrist for all he cares, if they’re underage, they’re off limits. Anyone else is fair game - kind old ladies, rich corrupt businessmen, housewives, politicians. He doesn’t give a shit so long as he gets paid, and paid well.

You were fair game.

He never cares why. Iwa has better things to do than listen to meaningless justifications and vendettas. They make no difference either way - he’s being paid to kill, so he’ll kill, ruthlessly and without prejudice. All he wants is a name, a picture and whether or not they want brains splattered on pavement or something a little more refined. An address doesn’t go astray, but he’ll work with what he’s got, it’s the reason he can charge a fucking premium.

But you… you weren’t what he expected. He’s used to filth. Liars, cheaters, bottom of the barrel trash. Every once in a while some poor idiot gets caught up in something they don’t understand and ultimately pay the price for it, but good people don’t often end up in files splayed across Iwaizumi’s desk. He’s not used to innocence, and as far as he’s concerned, you’re as close as they come.

He supposes that things might have been different if they’d wanted you dead quickly.

Publicly.

But they didn’t want that. They wanted you to disappear without a fucking trace. It wasn’t a kindness - it just meant more work for him. It meant that instead of staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle perched in the window of an empty apartment across the street from yours, he’d have to get his hands dirty.

If you want somebody to blame, sweetheart, why don’t you start with them?

In hindsight, he probably didn’t need to go inside the little coffee joint you worked at. He could lie to himself and say that it was an excuse to get closer to you, to see if you had friends at your work who might try and get in the way, but the simple truth was that he’d been up since four in the fucking morning, and he might just have shot somebody out of sheer irritation if he didn’t get a hit of caffeine and soon.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

And it wasn’t like you were going to recognise him. Three days in, and as far as Iwa can tell, you don’t have the slightest idea that you were being watched, much less that the pair of eyes watching belonged to a cold hearted killer.

People tend to be a little more scared when they sense he’s coming - there’s a kind of innate fear that seeps from every pore as they scurry about trying to hide, trying to put off the inevitable - but you, you’re just blissfully oblivious, flitting around with those wide doe eyes like you haven’t got a damn care in the world.

He honestly doesn’t know whether he wants to envy or pity you for that sweet naivety.

Currently though, he’s more concerned with whether or not you can make a half decent cup of coffee.

“I asked for an extra hot latte.”

Or he would be, if the asshole with slicked back hair and an expensive suit hadn’t cut him off just as he was about to step up to the counter to shove the coffee you’d just made him back in your face. He watches your eyes widen for a split second before you smile - apologetic and demure before you can even open your mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it not hot enough?”

The moment the words leave your lips, you all but flinch. Both you and he know that despite the fact you mean them sincerely (which kind of surprises him, considering that if your situations were reversed he wouldn’t have been nearly so generous) they’re a mistake.

The asshole sneers down at you like you’re nothing more than scum on his shoes. “If it was fucking hot enough, I wouldn’t be wasting my time complaining, now would I?”

Even before he found himself dabbling in his current line of work, Iwaizumi never considered himself much of a knight in shining armour. The world’s a shitty place, it’s not his job to go around fixing things and softening blows. He’s not a cold, emotionless bastard, as most people assume, he just has better things to do than run around playing a damn bleeding heart and sticking his neck out for strangers. It’s not his problem and as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t owe anybody shit.

Impassive olive eyes watch as you try and backtrack, apologising again, offering to make him a new drink, explaining that the reason the coffee wasn’t as hot as he wanted was because you were trying not to scorch the milk- for naught.

You in your naive little world don’t seem to realise that the asshole doesn’t actually give a shit about the coffee. He wants a power trip, and you’ve given him the perfect excuse. He wants to yell and scream and stamp his feet and take all of his repressed anger and feelings of inadequacy out on you so that he can feel like a big man. He wants to see you whimper and cry and bow down before him.

It’s pathetic, but Iwa’s content to watch it play out, drumming his fingers against the wallet in his hand, more irritated with the delay in getting his own coffee than the outburst itself-

Until the asshole reaches for his latte.

Iwa’s good at reading people, predicting their movements before they’re even made. It’s a necessary skill in his profession, one that’s saved his skin more times than he can count. He sees the little vein in the asshole’s temple throb, his jaw tighten, and the moment his hand twitches towards the still steaming cup of coffee, Iwa knows that he fully intends on throwing it at you.

He moves quicker than a man of his size has any right to, an iron grip wrapping around the asshole’s wrist, squeezing. He glares, sneering down at the man who all of a sudden doesn’t seem quite so angry, much less imposing.

“Get out,” he hisses.

It’s not a request.

But the asshole either has a death wish or he’s trying to salvage what’s left of his fragile ego, because his beady eyes narrow and he opens his mouth - no doubt to spew more vitriolic bullshit.

Iwa twists.

Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that it sends the man to his knees, whimpering like a kicked puppy, desperate to relieve the pressure on his wrist.

“I said,” he begins, his voice colder than ice, “get out.”

Yet he doesn’t spare the asshole another glance, not even as he releases his grip and the man skitters away like he’s been burned. The cafe is deathly silent, and without even glancing around, Iwa knows that they’ve managed to draw the attention of most if not all of its patrons.

And for once, he doesn’t give a single fuck.

Iwa’s eyes, his attention, all of it is focused entirely on you - on the wide eyed, stunned look on your pretty face. It’s a violent outburst, not nearly close to what he’s truly capable of, but in the quiet little cafe on a dreary Tuesday morning, glaringly out of place.

Will you burst into tears, he wonders. Ignore it, brush it aside and pretend it never happened? Stutter out more apologies for causing a fuss, for making a simple mistake? He somehow doubts you’ll be the type to scold him for it. No, you’re far too meek for that.

You surprise him, smiling slowly instead, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.

It’s a far cry from the contrite air you’d graced the asshole with earlier. It’s hesitant, nervous, but it’s very much real, and Iwa finds it difficult to stop the corners of his own lips from twitching upwards in response.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He inclines his head a fraction. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t charge him for the coffee, even when he practically shoves the bills across the counter into your hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shyly parrot back at him, and he almost fucking snorts when there’s a warmed chocolate chip muffin waiting with his coffee when it’s ready.

He’s being paid forty grand to make sure you’re dead by the end of the week, and you’re here giving him free muffins. Oikawa would see the humour in that. Of course, Oikawa would have absolutely no qualms in charming the absolute hell out of you seconds before he pulled the trigger. Realistically, he shouldn’t either. It’s his job, nothing personal.

To say he enjoys killing is probably a stretch, but he takes pride in it. Iwa’s good at what he does. It’s simple. Easy - so long as he follows his own rules.

This shouldn’t be any different. You’re cute, he supposes, in an odd sort of way. Innocent.

Endearing.

It shouldn’t have an effect on him.

It doesn’t, but-

He could have killed you two days ago. He’d be willing to bet good money that he could’ve walked right to your apartment, knocked on your door, made up some bullshit excuse on the spot and you would have smiled and invited him right inside.

And it’s not like you’d stand a chance of being able to fight him off.

Over the past few days there have been at least twelve different moments that Iwaizumi could have stepped in and snuffed that pretty little life of yours out without making a fuss and it would have been easy.

But he hadn’t.

There’s a difference between surveillance and stalking - it’s a fine line, a blurred one maybe, but it’s there all the same. After yet another night spent camped out watching you move about your apartment - cooking dinner for yourself, zoning out on the couch and fiddling with your phone while the tv plays in the background before finally curling up in bed in the early hours of the morning - Iwa comes to the realisation that he’s crossed it.

He wonders why it doesn’t bother him like it should.

The next day, he goes back to your little coffee shop. There’s no muffin this time, but your face brightens when he walks through the door and when he goes to pick up his coffee there’s a tiny, bite sized cookie sitting atop the lid.

“Don’t tell my boss,” you whisper, darting a glance back over your shoulder even as another pretty little smile graces your features.

Something unexpectedly warm and pleasant sings through his blood, and this time Iwa allows his own lips to twitch into the faintest hint of a grin in response.

You really are a truly awful judge of character.

Maybe that’s your downfall, that beautiful, naive innocence you just bleed. It’s a wonder that nobody’s come along to take advantage of you, especially when you are so very ripe for the taking.

Well, nobody until him, he supposes.

Iwa doesn’t know for certain why the men who want you dead do, he doesn’t particularly care either, but he does know that whatever their reasons are, it’s not enough.

Neither is forty thousand dollars.

It takes time, more than he’d like, to find the root of it all. It’s messy and he has to call in a few favours from old friends, but Iwa is nothing if not thorough.

He’s never particularly enjoyed killing, but there’s a certain satisfaction he gets from watching the light leave their desperate, pleading eyes knowing that he’s finally done his job. When he comes home, his shirt flecked with blood, his hands still dripping with it and coaxes your stricken, tear stained face up into a lingering kiss, Iwa feels content.

They wanted you to disappear entirely, he made sure that you did.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #yandere fic #my writing #tw stalking #tw blood #tw minor violence & implied murder

2K notes · View notes

eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 1k of domestic fluff

Summary: Kuroo is nothing if not meticulous and after weeks of review, he continuously arrives at the same conclusion.

The mid-morning light broke through the curtains of the bedroom. Kuroo had insisted on soft beige linen, said he’d never get up if the sun was completely blocked out. The bright light made staying under the covers too warm, so with one leg tucked under the sheets and the other lazily draped over her, his bare chest pressed against her back.

The occasional lazy Saturday morning was good for the soul, Kuroo reasoned. While his body at this point in his life was unfortunately hard-wired to rise and sleep early, lazing in her comfortable bed with the smell of clean cotton and her conditioner for an extra hour or two after a long work week was long awaited.

Every Friday evening they took turns making the short trip to the other’s apartment for the weekend and Kuroo found himself less and less willing to part each Sunday. It was a quiet shock to him when he realized two weeks ago as she walked him to the train station during a dreary afternoon drizzle that he wished he never had to leave and that he could greet her every morning and every evening.

He’d put up with her irritating habit of leaving the dishes until the next morning and he figured he didn’t mind that much when she purposefully kicked his flat sheet to the foot of the bed every night. For the past two weeks he carefully reviewed the past several months of their relationship and came to the same conclusion every time.

He was in love.

Easy laughter, intellectual conversations about shared and differing interests, silly competitions, off-key singing in the car, and continuous support were all aspects of the overwhelming evidence of his feelings and led him to this conclusion. However, when he really thought about it, it was never much of a surprise. The steady release of oxytocin, dopamine, and norepinephrine over the past several months would inevitably lead anyone to this final result.

But more than that, Kuroo felt that his brain chemistry had altered for her. At this point, it was hardwired in his cells to immediately point out bright colored tulips on morning walks that he knew she loved or to discreetly get rid of an insect that made its way into their apartments even though it made his skin prickle. Surely the release of hormones wasn’t enough to cause the cosmic shift of his soul when he thought about a life with her. It was irrational but wholly normal he knew, to feel so giddy on Friday evenings when they would see each other again or to feel euphoric bliss when she’d tenderly stroke his hair.

During his musings, she turned towards him and nestled her head in his chest. Smiling down at her, he sighed as she began stroking his back.

“Guess what I’m writing,” she murmured into his neck.

Easing into this familiar game, he felt her trace a large arc followed by short, angular lines.

“Cat?” he guessed.

She nodded and drowsily grinned at him.

“Let me do a harder one,” she said.

Half concentrating over the increased pace of his heart, he had her repeat her ministrations several times before he managed to spell out P-A-N-C.

Chuckling he rolled his eyes at her. “Do you want the chocolate chip pancakes at Pete’s Diner?”

“God, yes,” she groaned. “And their French toast. Oh, and maybe tater tots,” she said dreamily.

“We can get up soon,” Kuroo laughed. “Okay,” he nuzzled into her, “my turn.”

Although his face was obscured from her view while she was under his chin, he hid into her hair and felt his face flush. He stroked her back while humming, seemingly thinking of a word, but he was waiting for his pulse to steady and the nervous fluttering in stomach to calm.

“Okay, I got it,” he said.

He began with one line down her spine.

“I.”

Then two perpendicular lines.

“T?” she guessed.

“Not quite,” he murmured and repeated the motion.

“L.”

Nodding, he continued with a large swoop of his finger.

“Uhm, either ‘U’ or ‘O.’ Do it again?” she asked.

“O,” she said confidently. “I-L-O?” she questioned. “I have no idea what that could possibly be.”

“You’ll see,” he whispered. He followed up with two sharp lines to which she guessed correctly.

“I-L-O-V?" she wondered out loud. “I swear to god, if this is another obscure chemical I’m going to hit you.”

Snorting despite the racing of his heart beat and the sweat prickling at his brow he said, “I promise you’ll get it.”

Grateful that she couldn’t see the way his hand shook, hovering above her back, he clenched his fist and took a quiet breath. Four strokes.

When she realizes, she pulls away from him to finally look him in the eyes. Her cheek has faint indents running across the skin and her hair is tousled. Her face reddens and her mouth opens in silent surprise.

Feeling like he’s standing the edge of the cliff with no one to pull him back and no one to catch him, he jumps.

“I love you,” he says quickly, the words feeling foreign in his mouth. He hears his heartbeat reverberating against his skull and feels as if he’s free falling. Time feels suspended as he watches her register his confession and all of a sudden the reality of the moment catches up to him when she smiles and tells him she loves him too.

His body breaks free from the initial shock and he breathes hard. She places a soft palm on his cheek and strokes the delicate skin under his eye and it’s becoming suddenly hard to see. As she pulls him closer to her, his vision blurs with tears and the salt mingles with their kiss. Their teeth clash when they can’t contain their smiles and Kuroo adds this moment to his growing evidence that lazy Saturdays are good for the soul.

#kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuroo x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #kuroo fluff

198 notes · View notes

woogyu · 3 years

Text

42. “I turned out liking you a lot more than i originally planned.”

44. “Why should we date?” // “Because we’re attracted to each other.” // “I’m attracted to pie, but i do not feel the need to date pie.”

35. “Tell me again.”

Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny // Requests; OPEN

notes; alskdaslkdalskdjaklsjf this is one of my favourite pieces that I’ve ever written. Thank you for requesting and I really hope you like it. I am absolutely in love with how it came out.

wc; ~1609

Everyone told you that getting involved with an idol was a bad idea, that you would get your heart broken or worse. The logical side of you knew they were probably right. What chance did an unknown girl that worked at a café have with someone who could quite literally have anyone he wanted. You knew deep down you shouldn’t get involved, but when he was around, the logical part of your brain kind of shut down.

It was a few months ago now that he started showing up at the café, always in the middle of the night and always ordering the same thing; hot chocolate and whatever biscuit was available that day. For a long time, you didn’t even realize he was famous, you just assumed he was a weird college kid that didn’t sleep.

It was his odd behavioural traits that tipped you off and had you googling it. He always sat in the back, even though no one was ever there at that hour anyway. He hid his face if someone ever did happen to walk in. You learned later that his name was Hansol, or Vernon member of Seventeen.

You asked him about it one night, nearly giving the poor boy a heart attack as he tried to gauge what you were going to do with the answer. He eventually gave in and that’s how you started chatting with him. You learned about his past, his fears, what he loved about being an idol and what he hated. You learned that he came to the café when he couldn’t sleep and wanted time to himself, time to pretend at being normal.

You felt for him, wishing you could correct some of the points of stress in his life or ease his burdens. It started off innocent enough, but soon the little chats started to grow into flirtatious conversations. The fine line between café guest, idol and anything outside of those two categories growing steadily blurrier between the two of you.

You never intended to get involved with an idol, but that is just what life had planned for you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“We have your favourite tonight” you mused when the familiar hooded boy crept into the empty café. “Chocolate chip?” he perked up, taking his usual seat in the corner where people picked up their coffee. You hummed in response, nodding as you made the all too familiar order with ease.

“You know… I didn’t think I would like you at first” he said, watching as you set two cups of tea along with the biscuits down at his table. You slid into the seat across from him, raising an eyebrow at his sudden declaration.

“I was worried you would…” he trailed off, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. “Try and steal your DNA from an empty coffee cup?” you supplied, breaking off a piece of cookie and popping it into your mouth. “I already looked it up, not a huge market for illegally acquired human DNA” you shrugged, watching as his eyes widened, trying to figure out if you were being serious.

“I’m joking Hansol” you finally put him out of his misery, laughing a little as his shoulders dropped and he let out a relieved sigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your weird sarcastic sense of humour” he grumbled a bit, taking a sip of tea now that he knew his DNA was safe.

“C’mon, just admit it, I’m hilarious” you grinned, finishing off the cookie you had started. He rolled his eyes and started picking at his own sweet treat.

“I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.” He said in between bites, looking up to gauge your reaction before he continued. “Yes, dry sarcastic humour and all” he deadpanned, watching as you chuckled softly.

“You know, you’re not half bad yourself” you answered, if you were being honest you never thought you would like him as much as you do either. You thought he would be another stuck-up rich kid that would belittle you for being a café worker.

After the two of you were finished with the cookies, you gathered the plate and brought it behind the counter. You started to clean up a little bit from the day shift, cleaning the dishes in the counter. Hansol watched as you did this, badly trying to hide it by having his phone out; you could clearly see the screen was off.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Go on a date with me” Hansol told you one night, the two of you sitting in the dark recesses of the coffee shop. You laughed at his proposition, standing up and gathering the dishes. “You don’t mean that Hansol” you told him, brushing off his request. He left it alone for the night, but continued to bring it up every subsequent night, hoping for a different response from you, hoping his persistence showed you that he was being serious.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The eighth time he asked you felt the urge to snap at him, it was cute at first but this little game he was playing was starting to get annoying. You decided to indulge him, if for no other reason to put an end to whatever he thought would happen between the two of you.

“Why should we date?” you questioned, pausing your motions as you looked over at him, eyebrow raised and hoping he had a valid answer. He paused for a moment, taking a second to think about it before answering.

“Because we’re attracted to each other.” He said, like that would just solve all the obvious barriers that were present between the two of you. You smiled at his simplicity; it was obvious he didn’t realize what dating you would mean. What it could do to his career and your life. Flirting alone in a dark café was one thing, but dating was a whole other circus you didn’t know if you could handle.

“I’m attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie.” You told him, holding up a piece of pie from the display case for extra emphasis. If he wanted this to happen, he had to understand what it meant, and right now it was obvious he had not given it enough thought. You never straight up told Hansol no, and he recognized that. He knew he had a fighting chance so long as you didn’t say no.

»»————-　♡　————-««

He didn’t show up for a few days, it worried you. You thought that maybe last time you had been too harsh with him, that you had stepped over some invisible line. Your shifts were long and cold, you felt the emptiness that was left behind when he wasn’t there.

You were incredibly relieved when you saw him walk through the door, not even trying to hide it from reaching your facial features. With a little too much enthusiasm you put together his usual order, hissing when you splashed boiling water over your hand. Shaking it off you quickly brought the tray over to him, not even sparring a second glance at your red burn.

He frowned when his eyes settled on it, silently getting up and filling a small cloth with ice from behind the counter. He pressed it to the area giving you an apologetic glance when you whimpered at the coolness of it.

“I talked with my company” he told you, leaving you entirely confused about what he was telling you. You raised an eyebrow at him, taking the ice filled cloth from his hands as he sat back down.

“You’re worried about something bad happening if we started dating right?” he asked, smirking when shock passed over your features. So that’s what he had been up to. “We have a plan… if you’re willing to listen to it” he said slowly, leaning his elbows against the small table separating the two of you.

“This is the last time I’ll ask. Go on a date with me y/n” he said, his eyes pleading for you to give in and trust him on this.

“Why should we date?” you said in a whisper, your resolve slowly shrinking as it became obvious that he was 100% serious about doing this. He smiled a little, clearly expecting the question that he had gotten wrong last time.

“Because I think I’m in love with you” he said softly, his eyes twinkling in the dimly lit room. Your eyes narrowed, looking for any sign of hesitation or farce on his part… but you found none. He meant every word of what he was telling you. Your heart raced as you finally allowed yourself to consider the possibility of letting your heart rule rather than your head.

“Tell me again.” You whispered, a smile breaking out over his features when he realized that you wanted this just as much as he did.

“I’m in love with you y/n” he hummed, his fingers reaching out to brush some hair back behind your ear. “You’re the only person who has ever wanted me and not the persona that I created” he explained, your heart swelling with every word.

Everyone warned you about getting involved with an idol, but no one warned you about falling in love with one.

#idol!vernon #vernon scenarios #vernon imagines #seventeen scenarios #vernon fluff #seventeen imagines #vernon fanfic #vernon hansol chwe #hansol seventeen #seventeen vernon #seventeen drabble game #svt drabble game #seventeen fanfic #hansol fanfic #svt imagines #svt scenarios

179 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 4 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: Ransom shows you a softer side, but when the table flips he leaves you with no doubt that he’s still just as dangerous as he has always been…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 4 to our submission for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. My writing partner @southerngracela is currently on an indefinite hiatus from Tumblr, and I’ve sadly no idea when she will be back. However, this chapter was pretty much finished before she took her break and the rest of the series is also planned out to finish, so as per her blessing before she took time out, I’m intending on finishing what we started.

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 3

True to his word, Ransom had let you spend the day with him after Blanc's visit. It was a day interestingly enough your mind wandered back to, if not for the change in scenery, but for the change in his demeanour. A couple of weeks had since passed from then, but the memory was burned in your brain. And since, you'd spent far more than just a day above the confines of your room. Almost every morning since he’d ‘allowed’ you to make breakfast and most mornings, unless he was heading out to wherever he went, he then let you stay upstairs with him whilst he plugged away at the book he was writing. That in and of itself had come as a shock to you, to learn he was an aspiring author for sure, but you had simply nodded and encouraged him when he had told you. And you had quickly realised that when he was busy writing, you could get busy reading one of the many books or writing in your journal while sat in the large study and he left you pretty much alone.

Which is where you were currently sat now, curled up on the leather sofa as he sat at his desk, tapping away at his laptop, your journal open in your lap and a leather bound copy of ‘Great Expectations’ lay next to you, the page marked waiting for you to pick up from where you had left off the previous evening. As you thumbed the pages of your journal to find the next blank page, you had to smile at the little doodle of a Christmas tree that caught your eye in the top right hand corner of a page you’d written a few days back, the day you’d convinced Ransom that he should at least get one Christmas Tree. He’d obliged, had one; only the one, delivered and permitted you to decorate it how you’d wanted to and even managed a little smile when you stepped back and proudly showed the finished product to him. Then, of course, quid-pro-quo, he had had expected something in return which you’d given, because let’s face it, he’d have taken it anyway.

You’d seen a softer side to him that day, and not for the first time either. Granted, non-asshole Ransom wasn’t an everyday feature by any stretch of the imagination, but you’d seen it twice now. You paused, and then thumbed back a few pages to the day you were now remembering, the day you’d first been confronted with a very different Ransom to the one you were used to dealing with. One that came out of nowhere.

It was a wet day, an early winter storm passing through New England. You were sure it could have snowed but instead, it was just wet and cold. He'd come down with breakfast, instead of inviting you up. He'd brought you warm oatmeal with cream and cinnamon, a small bowl of blueberries on the side and a pinch dish of raisins, having forgotten how you took your oatmeal. A cup of coffee, steaming on the tray. He'd set up your breakfast on the table and sat across from you, not eating. He hadn't even brought coffee for himself.

You'd assessed his mood as morose, distant even. You didn't press, but rather waited for him to out himself and his particular mood. You'd come to recognize when he was thinking and this morning, he was all thought and no presence.

"I'll be gone most of the day," he finally came clean, just as you'd finished your oatmeal.

"Okay," you replied. He hadn't ever really announced his plans to you before. He'd just come and go at all times as he'd liked, never leaving you home alone without the doors locked. This willingness to let you in on his plans for the day fielded a small red flag in your mind and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like this was a test. He said nothing else, just picked up your breakfast dishes and left.

In the time he was gone, you'd managed to shower, nap, write and read. You were growing hungry for dinner, having had to skip lunch in his absence. Then you heard it, the tell-tale signs of his return. The clicks of doors and sounds of boots on the floor above you. The jingle of keys, and a few failed attempts at unlocking your door. A 'fuck' and a 'God damn it' before the door opened and there he stood. Soaked to the bone, dressed in all black from his coat to his toes. Was that ice on the tips of his hair? Was he drunk or just having a moment? Fingers frozen from the cold.

'Jesus Christ, you're soaked.' You said as you took him in. His lips looked a little discolored, his skin more alabaster than ivory. Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed your throw from the chair as you passed it by. 'Get that coat off,' you pulled at its thick woolen collar. The heavy fabric peeled away from his broad shoulders and you let it fall to the floor. You heaved the throw over him and pulled it closed around his thick chest. 'You're not getting sick and leaving me here to rot.'

You moved to give him some space and guide himself further into the room, but ice cold fingers wrapped around your wrist and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your eyes moved upwards from where his hand swallowed you're wrist, along the wet fabric of his black sweater, water droplet covered neck, to eyes that were lost and distant, just as they were that morning, but much worse.

You were nearly as frozen as his fingers were, not sure what to say or do. Worried about consequence. So you just stared back.

'Thank you', it was barely audible as the words poured from his lips.

'Of course.' You weren't sure what he was thankful for but you replied anyway. Cautiously, you continued, 'Will you come sit down? Do you want something warm to drink?' You wanted to ask where he'd been but that was a slippery slope.

'Not here,' he replied.

'Upstairs then, in the lounge,' you suggested. He nodded and turned on his heel, a glance over his shoulder to see if you were coming. You followed, pulling your cardigan around you tightly as the chill from the basement filtered through you, or was it coming away from him, you weren't sure.

You'd thought the lounge was where you were headed but instead, he'd headed for the kitchen, taking a seat at the table there. When he didn't provide instruction or conversation, you inhaled deeply and thought of something to warm you both from the inside-out. You felt his eyes on you as you gathered the ingredients you needed, cocoa, chocolate chips, milk. The cinnamon sticks from the cupboard. You were careful not to make too much of a clatter as you pulled the sauce pan from under the counter.

In minutes, fresh hot chocolate was in two steaming mugs with whipped cream and freshly grated cinnamon. You handed him a mug and then sat across from him, your mug between your fingers. You watched as he sipped from his mug, blowing a little on the liquid before his lips touched it. His eyes closed as if he was stuck in a memory, his expression softening.

His eyes opened and he sighed, 'I can't remember the last time I had something like this. I was just a kid, my nana was still alive. It amazes me how they turned out from the two of them.'

'Money changes people,' you commented. You assumed 'they' meant his family, or at least more specifically, his mother and her two brothers, one of which had been gone for years.

He scoffed, 'fuck my family.'

Throwing caution to the wind, you asked, 'is that where you were?' You couldn't have guessed, given he was usually extremely angry and frustrated when he'd spent time with anyone in the Thrombey-Drysdale family tree.

He frowned and nodded.

'What happened?' You couldn't resist.

'Harlan's memorial.'

'Oh' . You said unable to think of anything else to respond with, because really what else could you say. He’d attended a memorial for the grandfather that would still be alive had it not been for him.

'Oh, indeed,' he mused, long fingers flexing around the mug. 'Surely, you’ve figured out I wasn’t particularly welcome.'

You couldn't say more, he wasn't wrong. You bit the inside of your lip and swallowed hard. He needed comfort. But would you give it to him? Was he deserving of that? Hell no, but your heart ached for him a little. It couldn't have been easy. But maybe this was his punishment for avoiding the ultimate consequence.

'Go on, say it.'

'Say what?'

'That I deserve it.' He looked at you, 'I know that’s what you’re thinking.' He leaned back, 'maybe you’re right.'

Well, that threw you. 'I don't know what I'm thinking, to be honest.' You leaned forward, intending to slip the mug from his hands and take them in yours, but you caught yourself and stopped. That was a step that you weren’t quite ready for, or willing as might be more accurate, to take. 'But, I can tell you're hurting and despite what happened, how it happened, you deserve to say goodbye without the rage and selfishness that got you here.'

'Well,' he leaned back and took another sip from his mug, 'that’s certainly not what they thought. Meg assured me I'm still the stuck up prick without my trust fund.'

A small smirk played over your lips, barely noticeable, 'fuck your family.'

'Careful, Sweetheart,' he smirked, but there was no threat in his words, not this time. He was genuinely amused.

You managed a slight shrug, 'If there’s one thing I learned from writing about you and your ridiculously entitled family tree, it's that each and every one of you is all about everyone for themselves.' You took a deep breath, waiting for the repercussions to fall. 'What happened, happened. Now, this is what you have, so own it.'

You flinched a little as his hand reached to scrub at his clean shaven chin, finger tracing his bottom lip as he studied you for a second before he took a deep breath and reached back for his mug. 'I think you need to make this for me more often.' He stated simply, and just like that, the deep foray into his emotions and psyche was over, and the barriers were closed once more.

'Sure.' You nodded. 'Whatever you want.'

At that he gave a little scoff. 'Sure, whatever I want.'

Silence filled the room again, your mind not sure what to make of that last comment, and his was clearly working overtime, you could tell by the way his eyes were still glazed as he simply stared down at the mug in his hand. The rest of the time you sat by the table was quiet, and you were surprised to find yourself a little disappointed. This was the first real meaningful conversation you’d had with him since arriving here. Sure you’d talked, but never once had you got any insight into what exactly made him tick. You’d learned more in the last ten minutes or so than you had in the entire six weeks you’d been his captive.

His captive.

The words echoed in your mind and you swallowed as you remembered exactly what it was you were doing here. This wasn’t by choice, this man wasn’t your friend or your lover, he was your captor, keeping you for his own entertainment, which he was no doubt going to be seeking from you again tonight.

'I think I need a shower,' he leaned forward, disturbing your thoughts.

'Okay,' You replied. 'I'll, uh, well you know where to find me when you're ready for me. Anything in particular you'd like me to wear tonight?'

'No, not tonight,' he answered with assurance, his voice carrying a low yet soft tone. 'You can go read or whatever it is you do when I'm gone.' You blinked, temporarily dumfounded and he looked at you, snorting a little. 'What? You want me to come and have my way with you?'

'Is that a trick question?' You blurted out before you could stop yourself, before you swallowed and waited for the admonishing, but it never came. Instead he chuckled and shook his head.

'Didn’t think so.' With that he rose from his chair, reaching for your empty mug as he passed. His fingers lightly brushed yours and you were jolted by the sudden sparks that flew up your arm and you took a little breath as he passed, depositing your mugs in the sink. Without another word he breezed from the kitchen for the first time, leaving you alone in the room.

It left you perplexed. Completely and utterly perplexed. He never left you alone, even the weeks on your cycle he’d found other ways for you to satisfy him, with your mouth or your hand for instance, but tonight…

Taking a deep breath, you headed back to your room. You didn’t even look at the main door to the house, there was no point. It was always locked and you knew what the consequences would be if you left. Besides, you wouldn’t get far. Not to mention you had no idea where you actually where and the thought of being outside alone in the dark, frankly scared you to death. No, you were better here. At least you knew it was warm, and familiar.

You headed down the stairs and got ready for bed. You settled in with your book, and after a while your ears pricked up as you heard footsteps outside your room. You swallowed, clearly he had changed his mind. But, as you set your book aside, it wasn’t the sound of the door opening followed by his feet padding down the stairs that you heard, it was the lock clicking as he shut you in for the night.

The sound of the doorbell jerked you away from your memory. Ransom frowned and looked up from the screen of his laptop before his eyes caught yours and he gave a little smirk.

“Expecting someone?”

You rolled your eyes at his asshole joke and he chuckled to himself, grabbing his phone. As he saw who it was at the door his good humour slipped from his face and without another word he rose from his chair. He paused in the doorway and turned to you. “No funny business, remember…”

“Yes, I know.” You replied quietly. “You know where my family are.”

He hesitated, almost as if he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead he turned and left the room to answer the door.

The study wasn't far from the lounge merely the next room down, and the lounge was closest to the door so you tuned your focus to the voice speaking with Ransom. You recognized it and suddenly found yourself adjusting your tee and duster, making sure the cuffs on your jeans were even. You could hear the distress in his tone, the guest was unwanted and you hadn't realized you were now in the hall beside him. You noticed he took a step back towards you, as if he knew you were there.

Linda Thrombey's eyes raked over you, in shock and disbelief. “What the hell is she doing here?”

As she glared, you shifted uncomfortably, your hands pulling on the sleeves of the duster sweater you wore as you swallowed.

“She’s with me.” Ransom replied, his tone even.

“With you as in 'with you'?” Linda turned her eyes back to him, distaste evident on her face.

“Is that a problem, Mother, because you know where the door is.”

It was a problem, you could see it in her face as she once more looked at you, but instead of sniping back she simply took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"No, I just wasn't aware you'd have company." Her eyes flicked back to Ransom who simply shrugged.

"Since when did you know anything about what I do on a daily basis, Mother?"

"Don't start, Ransom. I'm not in the mood and I didn't come here for a fight."

"Then pray do tell, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Can you stop being such a sarcastic little shit for once in your life?" she snapped.

You stilled a little, your eyes flicking to Ransom and you were surprised to find that instead of the usual anger you expected, his face remained passive on the whole, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that, well had it been anyone else you'd have sworn was concern. But Hugh Ransom Drysdale wasn't concerned about anyone but himself...

“What’s happened?” he asked, his voice still gruff but there was a softer note to his voice. Linda took a deep breath and she shook her head.

"I felt a call to tell you wasn't appropriate and this needed to be handled in person." She fixed him with a look. “It’s your Greatnanna Wanetta. She died last night, Ransom.”

You froze, hearing the news leave his mother's mouth and you suddenly felt sorry for him. Ransom, stood there stoic, his eyes fixated on his mother.

“Was it peaceful?” he eventually asked, his voice measured.

“In her sleep.” Linda replied, her tone soft.

Ransom stayed silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling slowly as he took deep breaths. His expression was unreadable as he simply looked at his Mother, before he raised his eyebrows inhaling slowly.

“Was there anything else?” He exhaled, and Linda simply shook her head at him, a huff of annoyed laughter escaping her.

“That’s all you have to say?” She asked, incredulously, as Ransom shrugged with a petulantly nonchalant air, and you saw Linda’s face redden as she exploded "Oh for God's sakes, Ransom, you really are such a selfish little bastard, aren't you?”

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, his tone measured. “You said it was peaceful and she didn’t suffer.”

“No, I said she went in her sleep.” Linda corrected him. “I imagine she did suffer, how could she not after everything that happened, huh? Hell, she probably died of a broken heart”.

At that you saw Ransom’ nostril’s flare as his eyes burned into Linda’s face, a flush of red rising up his neck.

"Get out," he deadpanned. When Linda made no attempt to move, Ransom stepped forward yanked open the front door of the house, gesturing with his arm. “I’m not gonna ask again. Go.”

"Ransom..." Linda tried to strong arm her way to stay.

"Are you deaf or just fucking stupid?" Ransom replied, his voice didn't even raise in volume but something about it made you shiver. He was positively frightening when he was in this frame of mind.

You watched as Linda gave him a final glare and stepped outside without so much as a glance back, the slam of the door behind her making you jump.

Ransom saw his mother out but didn't return to the study, in fact he ignored Y/N's presence in the hall entirely. Instead, he sulkingly moved towards the wet bar in the lounge. He didn't even bother with the glass, he picked up the first bottle he could wrap his fingers around and white knuckled the neck, spinning the cap off, it clinking to the floor. He downed a long pull, the amber liquid burning sinfully as it coated his throat, his eyes stinging but not from the booze.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s soft voice startled him as he hadn’t heard her enter the lounge. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his hand over his face, and turned to look at her, his jaw clenching.

“Did I say you could leave the study? Did I say you could join the conversation with Linda?” His voice was steely, flat, but he knew full well that she understood that to mean he was pissed and she visibly recoiled in the doorway, her eyes widening. When she didn’t answer immediately he slammed the bottle he was holding down on the bar top, and when he spoke again his voice was louder as he demanded an answer. “Did I?”

“No.” She answered with a quiver, “But I…”

“But I…” he mocked, sneering before he scoffed. “You know considering how smart you’re supposed to be, at times you’re really fucking stupid.”

Y/N blinked a little, and opened her mouth to talk but she fumbled over her words as she frantically began to apologise, which simply served to irritate him even more. With a frustrated growl he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up to look at his.

"You do as I say, when I say it. That rule has NEVER changed," his voice was filled with venom. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy. And I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“That’s not...” she whimpered slightly, and the grip he had on her face tightened causing her to cry out. “Hugh, please!”

And there it was, that fucking name.

You immediately realised your mistake as his face burned red and his lips curled up into an ugly sneer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…you were hurting me and…”

“You think I give a shit?” He spat, and the hand suddenly released your face only to wrap painfully in your hair. Without so much as another word he began pulling you from the room, ignoring your shouts of pain and protest as you wrapped both your hands around his wrists, desperately trying to get him to release you. But it was no good, the more you struggled, the tighter his grip became.

Before you knew what had happened he’d dragged you to the door that led to your room and down the stairs, your feet slipping slightly, causing you to stumble, harshly banging your knee on the bottom few steps where he finally released you, shoving you harshly. Your balance already gone, you stumbled and collided harshly with the side of the vanity table, the pain in your cheekbone causing you to yell out once more as the stars exploded in front of your eyes.

It took you a moment to shake off the daze, and when you finally did you looked up to see his retreating back heading up the stairs, slamming the door behind him. With a gasp you slumped down, your back against the wood of the dressing unit, your hand reaching up to your tender face. From somewhere upstairs in the house you heard another door slam, then a moment or so later there was a roar of an engine, which was followed by nothing but eerie silence.

Hugging your knees to your chest you let out a sob as the tears streaming as uncontrollably down your face.

***** All he could see was rage. Red, hot, firey rage. He slammed the basement door and didn't miss the bar cart on his way out, a full bottle of top shelf scotch in his hand, coat and keys in the other. He drove for miles, no destination in his conscious mind but a rather interesting one in his subconscious.

Headstones came into view until his SUV stopped at the end of the grassy knoll where the mausoleum stood surrounded by trees. He climbed out of the car, bottle clutched in his hand and shut the door behind him, simply leaning against the dark metal of his vehicle. For a long while, he didn't move, he simply stared at the entry, gulping large pulls of the scotch as he stared. His thoughts raced and raced, almost making him dizzy. It was that or the fast burn of the booze.

It felt like a flash of his life replaying in his mind. His great-nana, his grandparents, his parents, a life of entitlement growing up, parties, recreational drugs, booze, women, his fight with Harlan, his sudden plot to commit murder and then the crime, his arrest, and then the visions came to a halt with a mind bending pain and at the end of that pain was Y/N.

Her face, her scent, her voice. The way she felt beneath him, around him…those breathy, little moans, sighs. They’d connected recently, Ransom was sure of it, ever since he’d invited her upstairs and let her do something as mundane as cook. They talked more, engaged more, he no longer fucked her and left, instead he’d dress and hang around for a while, and he liked it. But then, today, after his Mother’s visit, those eyes which had mesmerised him from the moment he’d met her had once more reflected fear and confusion.

And Ransom didn’t like it.

Where that fear had, at one point, given him a buzz, now it simply served to remind him exactly how things had been when he had first taken her, and he didn’t like that one bit. He’d grown to crave the other things, like the way she would touch his arm or squeeze his hand. The way she smiled and spoke. The way she made him feel human, not some ghastly, beastly monster capable of killing someone. But he hurt her, more times than he wanted to admit. He hurt her and did things to her, he was vile and despicable. He WAS those things everyone said.

He was a fucking monster.

He felt the upheaval of emotions begin to collapse around him and he fell to his knees. The sting started and he couldn't stop it. An outpouring of emotions, years, decades even of built up anger, resentment, unhappiness, disgust, fear, pain all erupted in a strangled cry as his chest heaved and his heart raced. Salty steaks of tears wet his cheeks.

And all Ransom Drysdale felt in that moment in time was utter defeat.

His Greatnanna, the only other member of his family who truly ever cared about him, that remained on his side or remotely understood him other than Harlan was now gone and the realization of loneliness hit him like a ton of bricks. His body shook, his chest ached, his mind grew numb and all he could do was cry.

What the fuck had he become, WHO had he become? What did he do? Why did he do it? This was all his fault, Harlan didn't deserve to be cold in the ground. He did this, all of this. Again, but why?

He had absolutely no answer other than because he could.

It grew cold, dark, and late. The scotch was gone, his eyes burned and he couldn't breathe through his nose. At this point he didn't care if he made it back in one piece. He was a piece of shit and deserved everything that came to him by way of a tragedy. He climbed into his SUV and tried to collect enough sobriety to drive towards home. Towards her.

******

You had no idea how long you sat on the floor, but by the time you finished crying and had mustered enough about you to move; you were cold, stiff and aching from sitting in the same position for so long. Your face hurt from the blow you’d taken against the dresser, your knee hurt from where you’d banged it but all that paled into insignificance to the pain that was going on inside your chest.

You didn’t understand why Ransom had flipped like he had. For a few weeks now, things had been okay between you, good even. He’d been reasonably amenable to most of your requests and dare you say it, almost happier in himself. But all this served to remind you what lay underneath that façade. A dangerous narcissist with the ability to swap his face and mood at the click of a finger.

Or, in this case, a visit from his mother.

You wiped at your face, hissing as your fingers brushed your tender cheekbone and with a slight whimper of pain you pushed yourself up off the floor and stumbled over to your bed where you lay down and curled up, hugging your pillow to your chest.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you recall it was dark and you were still cold. Whilst the basement was equipped with heaters, you couldn’t shake the chill from your bones so you decided that your best option to warm up, and ease your aches and pains was a nice, hot bath. Stretching out slightly, you gave yourself a moment before you pushed yourself up, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand before you got up and headed into the bathroom, flicking on the light.

You paused at the basin unit, glancing at your reflection and you swallowed at the sight of the bruise that was already forming around your right eye and cheek socket. Swallowing the emotion you felt at seeing your face marked once more in such a way, you turned your attention to the bath and the suddenly remembered that the other night Ransom had presented you with a bag from a Boutique you liked that sold home-made soaps and bath bombs, clearly having been in one of his good moods that day. You had yet to unpack it all and put it in the bathroom, so, deciding that you were going to use one tonight, you turned to head back and grab the bag, but as you emerged into the main part of your room, you were stopped short as a thick chest, covered in a ribbed white tee, a hint of a cardigan peeking out as broad shoulders kept warm by a camel coloured coat blocked your path.

You gasped and felt your belly drop out. Your body immediately began quaking in fear as he stood so close to you. You cowered away, taking a half step back but it wasn't enough to put space between you as his hand gently grabbed your upper arm and pulled you into his chest, a shriek emitting from your voice.

"Don't," his voice cracked. "Don't scream, I'm not gonna..." his words trailed off and he just shook his head.

He held you against him. You were sure he could feel you trembling as his large hands pressed against your back. You inhaled a deep, shaky breath through your nose and was met with his scent. He smelled so good, like an expensive aftershave with hints of amber and sandalwood, cedar and vanilla but there was an underlying, distinct aroma of alcohol, scotch you suspected, unless you were mistaken.

You felt his face press into your hair as he took a large, shaky deep breath, as if he was inhaling your scent, which he exhaled before he pulled away, his hands cupping your face. He tilted your face slightly so he could examine your left cheek and you saw him swallow as he took in your bruising. Something stirred behind his eyes, a sad melancholy that you’d seen only once before crossed his arrogantly handsome features, and his head dropped slowly to yours. He held your jaw in his big hands, his lips on yours. You didn’t fight, fighting was futile, but as the kiss continued it soon became clear that this wasn’t like any of the times he had kissed you in the past. No, this one was soft, like a need to just feel you pressed against him. His plump lips pulling yours in and holding you there and you realised, from the lingering taste of something sweet yet ever so slightly tinged with sour, that your suspicions were correct.

Despite your earlier fear, you willed yourself to relax into the relative comfort. It was like he was back to how he had been before his mother had visited and whilst he was in that frame of mine, you knew you were safe, so keeping him there was in your best interests. Your fingers moved from your sides to his chest, the ribbed tee rough against your skin. You continued your movements as his mouth pulled you in just a little more until he traced his tongue over your bottom lip. Your fingers moved out to and up the lapels of his coat, the soft texture like a cottony suede under your fingertips, before settling on the back of his neck, his smooth skin and hairline a definitive juxtaposition to feel. He didn't balk or pull away as he had done previously when you’d tried to show him affection, and you continued to respond to his kiss, your touch seeming to be a comfort for him and in the back of your mind you wondered what had changed to make him act this way. He broke away and rubbed his nose along yours, almost as if he were touching a butterfly, soft and unsure.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He continued to whisper, over and over. A soft, barely there kiss to your bruises and broken skin and more words, "Let me take care of you."

You were scared to admit that this felt good, the way he was being gentle, apologetic even. Pain radiated from his body once again, like it had just a few weeks ago, his eyes telling you everything he was feeling. The outpouring of emotions there were hard to ignore. You weren't sure if forgiveness was in your repertoire, but compartmentalization was. You looked back at him, and with a slow blink, almost hypnotized, you nod in reply to his request.

Long fingers reached out and tucked a tendril of hair behind your ear, the other hand simply cradling your jaw. You swallowed hard as he bent down and placed his lips on your neck. Your body shivered at the feel of his mouth warm against your skin. His breath hot on your ear, “do you trust me?”

"I don't know," your voice was breathy as you replied.

“Let me fix this," his voice wavered. It was a question, not a demand. He nipped at your skin and you shivered again from a combination of desire and disgust at the way this asshole could make you feel, how traitorous your damned body was.

Ransom felt her breath hitch against his touch. She wasn't fighting him, she wasn't combative, she was...receptive. The thought nearly made him crow for, in that moment, he could feel her trust in him coming in, even if she couldn't verbalize it. He was debating on his lips devouring hers but he was... oh God, he was actually afraid of losing her in the moment. Of her closing herself off. No, he thought, it's best to wait. Ignoring the throw blanket on the floor and the mugs of cocoa on the table, Ransom held her face in her hands. "Do you trust me?" He asked again. She swallowed hard and blinked again, slowly. It was as fair if a reply as he'd get. He could see the war in her eyes, her mind battling with her feelings, her heart. "Stay here."

He left her standing there while he started the hot water. He could feel her eyes on him, watching his every move. He felt different, better even, from the moment he sought her attention when he'd come home. He started the tub faucet and as he brushed past her again, he shucked his coat, tossing it on her bed. He took a small bag he'd brought her earlier in the week and carried it with him. He emptied the contents of a small vile like bottle and watched a moment as bubbles began to firm in the hot but tolerable water. With the bath filling, he sighed to himself and turned to face her.

He peeled his own dusty blue cardigan over his shoulders and let it set over the basin unit. He pushed the sleeves of his white thermal up his forearms and held his hand out to her. She hesitated but slowly slipped her hand in his. He pulled her close and his hands gathered the lapels of her cardigan and peeled it away from her. Underneath her cardigan, Y/N sported a firm fitting white tee and jeans that looked well fitted for her hips and ass, toned legs, bare feet curling into the tiled floor. Ransom salivated as her nipples hardened through the material. He realized she had no bra on under her tee and his hand gently slipped under her rib cage, his thumb padding over her pert nipple. He lifted the thin white tee away from her body and tossed it to the floor. He was half hard just at the thought of her naked under her clothes and now he was solid. Discomfort growing by the second.

A hooked knuckle traced down her sternum, between her breasts and along the center of her taught stomach. He watched as goose flesh covered her exposed skin. As his knuckle reached the waistline of her jeans, he took to his knees, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to her belly, just above her flies. With just his fingers, he undid the button, unzipped the zipper and the peeled the material away from her legs, all the while deep blue eyes peered up at her. He wasn't disappointed to find she'd still worn panties under the rough material, in fact he was delighted. His eyes roved down to her black, lace panties and he reached out, fingers gently tracing long the detailed waistband. Those came down next and as she stepped out of the material, Ransom's hands traced patterns up her leg, faint kisses to her thigh, her hip, her belly. He stood and admired Y/N, completely bare, with less than a foot of space between them.

Ransom hummed, his right hand reaching out, pads of his fingers again trailing a path down the valley of her heaving breasts to her navel. He paused as her breathing hitched and with a smirk his hand dropped lower still, over the faint tuft of hair he insisted she kept groomed, his fingers slipping into her folds. She gave a soft gasp, eyes widening as he continued to tease her, her hands reaching to up to grasp at his biceps as he played with her. She was wet, so wet from just this little bit of play and with a sharp flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers inside of her.

He leaned forward, mouth brushing the shell of her ear, “Just say the words and I’ll make you feel so damned good, Sweetheart, like you’ve never felt before.” Ransom pulled away, removing his fingers from where they’d been, his hand curling on her hip, sticky with her essence. He backed her toward the tub's edge, his forehead pressed into hers. All motion stopped the second the back of her legs touched the tub. "Get in," he whispered.

You sunk down into the water, the aromatic smell of calming lavender swallowing your senses. Bubbles covered your body, to the point they tickled your collar bone. You eyed him kneeling as he reached over you, grabbing the natural sea sponge loofah and dipping it into the water before he squeezed it over your skin, gently scrubbing. Your face once more met his and you carefully watched him as he exhibited a patience you had never seen from him before. Those blue orbs bore into you, but still he made no move to take you.

And it was unnerving.

But then, as you stared into those deep, icy blue pools something suddenly clicked in your mind. He wanted you to want him. That was what this was about. He’d spent his entire life with people who regarded him as unworthy of love or any kindness and he was seeking validation. Whilst you could see he was genuinely hurting, you also still knew this man was violent, angry, had taken you without your permission, taken what he wanted from you and when. You knew he would take what he wanted tonight too, regardless of what your answer was, the moment for you to back out had been and gone.

But something felt so good about his touch that you were shivering in anticipation of more rather than in fear and the feeling of enjoyment on your mind started to overpower the feeling of disgust in your belly as your core tightened with each breath you felt against your skin. You blinked, your head a whirl, as you were shamefully turned on despite the depraved nature of this entire situation. You broke from your thoughtful trance as a hand cupped your face, a thumb pad tilting you chin upward just a pinch to look at him,

"What?" You whispered.

"Let me in?" He asked, his tone a bit contrite and hopeful.

When she nodded in a slow reply, Ransom felt his stomach drop out from under him. Butterflies grew to take flight like an albatross deep in his gut. He dropped the sponge in the water and stood tall, towering over the tub. He reached behind his neck, between his shoulder blades and pulled the thermal over his head, his hair catching slightly on the fabric. He ran a hand through it to straighten it back up and tossed the garment to the floor. He watched as her eyes grew noticeably wide as they roamed over his taught, well-formed abs, his bare chest. He flexed a little, his muscles twitching as he focused on the buckle and flies of his pants. He'd kicked his boots off as he'd undone his belt, the clank an ignored sound as all he could do was watch her and she him. Ransom allowed the material to fall between them, his pants hitting his ankles and he was quick to slip out of his pants and socks. He palmed his hard cock through his boxer briefs as she watched him touch himself.

He could see the change in her, the look of desire and lust in her eyes. The way she was admiring him now, rather than cowering at him. She was appreciating what was before her. His pale skin, his sculpted body, his naked form. He’s seen her, stripped her bare. But normally he's pulled his dick out and just fucked her. This was uncharted territory, this was new. And he liked it. He liked the way she was looking at him, feeding his ego and willingly participating. This, yes, this was something fun for him. And oh yeah, she wanted this, he could see it all over her.

One foot, then the other, Ransom stepped into the tub and sat opposite of her, careful to avoid the faucet. The water felt inviting, the company even more so. Her one leg nestled between his legs while the other just to the outside of them. She slid her left foot up close to his thigh, bending her leg at the knee. At this new comfortable position, his fingers started drawing intricate circles along her shin and calf. He watched her inhale deeply and tilt her head towards her shoulder, observing him.

As you watched him, carefully, you saw him swallow, the hollow of this throat constricting a little before he took a deep breath, his touch on your leg still feather light. You wanted to lose yourself, give into the desire that you were feeling whether it be wrong or right, at that point in time you were past caring. You were in this position, nothing was going to change that, so was it really wrong to want to feel something more than fear? It was like there was a game of chess being played between your mind and heart, your gut and will.

And then, Checkmate, the idea came to you. You had a chance here to keep Ransom satisfied but on your terms. You had the power. And as long as you kept it that way you could control his temper and his actions, and get what you now shamefully admitted to yourself that you wanted. And the realisation that you had the winning move here was almost liberating.

Ransom shifted a little, the water sloshing around him as he sat up, his chest poking a little further out of the water as he studied your face, and you waited to see what he would do. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, he was clearly going through a mental battle himself and eventually he licked his lips, his gaze dropping to your breasts which were just under the water line and he swallowed once more before his hand on your leg stilled and he squeezed your calf muscle gently before he moved, leaning forward, his large hand once more resting against your cheek as he drew you in for another deep, gentle kiss.

You leaned into him, letting his lips works softly against yours as your hand dropped under the water and grasped his solid cock, giving him a gentle stroke. The kiss stuttered immediately, and he let out a choked groan as his eyes flew open, locking onto yours.

“Sit back.” You encouraged, and he did just that, his back once more resting against the top as you followed him, your hand remaining soft but firm enough to keep drawing those noises of satisfaction from his throat. His head tipped back as he let you take control, his Adams apple bobbing, eyes closing as no words left his lips, no dirty talk, no hissed little demands about what depraved position he wanted you to adopt, nothing. You held the power, and that turned you on in a way it really shouldn’t.

He gave a strangled hiss as you gripped him tighter and then you shifted, letting go to allow yourself to move your right knee to his left side, following with your other, his eyes flying open, a look of surprise on his face as you lined yourself up and his hands reached up, surprisingly gentle as they rest against your hips. There wasn’t much room, but it was doable, and you sank down onto him, his eyes flying to your hips as you both gave a little whimper as he filled you completely.

His fingers flexed against your skin, blunt nails biting ever so slightly, as you remained still, your hands sliding up his chest, curling over his shoulders. He was tense, coiled like a spring, clearly fighting back the urge to slam up into you and you began to work at a little of that tension, fingers rubbing up and down his neck, the index on your right trailing that vein that was bulging along his throat. His eyes never left yours until you softly began to knead at the strained muscles along his shoulders and neck, massaging deeply as you worked at the knots, his hands still resting on your hips, contracting every so often as you found a particularly knotty spot.

Every so often, he would make the slightest of movements, simply because he was relaxed and you could feel your walls fluttering sporadically, just from being full and stretched to your fill. But, still he made no move to take over, until at one point you hit a particularly knotty area at the point his neck met his collar bone and he gave a little jolt which caused you to groan and he opened his eyes, searching almost for permission. When he found no objection, his hands gently started rocking you.

The pressure and friction on your clit was boiling. It was slow and burned in a way that was so delightful it was almost painful. And, before you could stop yourself you were rolling into him as he kept that same delectably slow rhythm, rocking you back and forth slowly, deeply, before one hand left your hips and grasped the back of your neck, pulling you down for a deep kiss.

Ransom pulled away from her, breathless, his forehead against hers. The words were barely heard, but he knew he said, "I want you..."

"You have me," she replied in a soft whisper.

"Not here," he shook his head, their foreheads rubbing. He glided his nose against hers.

He missed the way she felt around him the second she managed to stand and slip out of the tub. Ransom was quickly behind her, following, bubbles and water dripping to the floor from them both be damned. He followed her to the bed where she stood at its edge, her eyes inviting him. He took a seat, bare ass and thighs soaking the comforter, knees bent over the edge. His eyes roamed her body, taking her all in. His own deep appreciation for her firm an awakening in his soul.

Slowly, just like she had in the tub, one knee slipped passed a hip, the other following. His lips were on her breasts, inhaling the scent of the oils and bubbles clinging to her skin as his tongue traced a hardened nipple and then the other. As he did so, she sunk back down his shaft again, a guttural groan escaping them both. She was ready, the thick vein of his cock giving a seductive friction against her wall.

Ransom ran his hands up and down her back, long index finger tracing up and down her spine as hot open mouth, needy kisses covered as much skin as he could. His hands splayed over her shoulder blades as his hips met her grind, catching her as Y/N arched into his movements. Her head tipped back, sheer wanton pleasure radiated from her with a heat he could almost feel. His mouth moved to the spot he knew drove her wild on her neck under her ear and the little whimper she made was nothing short of delectable.

As he began to lean back towards the mattress, he rolled her body against his, bringing her down with him. He planted his heels against the comforter and scooted them both to the center of the bed, still buried deep inside her. With a hand back to her hip, a gentle grip keeping his own pace with her rhythm, the other tangled in her messy hair as his tongue dove deep into her mouth, savoring each pass her own tongue made against his. He could feel her body flutter against him, sweet kisses her walls made against his solid cock. Her hands braced herself against his broad chest as she sat up, riding him with fluid, long rolls of her hips and he shivered, despite the searing fire between them. He was no longer fighting that desire to take control, he was more than happy to let her take the lead and respond accordingly, dare he say he was enjoying it. The slowness and sheer intimacy was something he never knew he’d craved until now and as she gave a particularly desperate roll of her hips he groaned, "Fuck yeah, Baby, just...like...that..."

A gasp and a shudder ran through you, your walls clenching down on him as a rush of power surged through your entire body. You rolled your hips deeper against him, the friction against your clit nearly too much. You brought your eyes down and looked down at his face, strong jaw, piercing eyes, his thick bottom lip sucked between his teeth. You had full control over him, beneath you he was as powerless as you had been made to feel. "Oh, God," you’re ready to sing a song of pure ecstasy as your body coils and tightens under your own volition. The signs of orgasm were just...right...there.

As you felt a deep thrust from his hips, hitting your sensitive and perfect spot within, your head lulled back and you felt his name roll off of your tongue, "Ransom...."

At the sound of his name spilling from her mouth Ransom gave a groan. It wasn’t Hugh, or Drysdale, it was Ransom. The one thing she had refused to say from day one and she had finally let herself go enough to give in to what he knew she wanted. His chest swelled, a warm feeling flooding from his toes right to his head and he surged up, his lips on hers, the kiss sloppy as with an easy movement he flipped them both so she was underneath him, all semblance of self-control now lost as her voice echoed round his mind, the soft, sultry way in which she’d cried his name repeating like a prayer.

"Gimme one more, baby, just one more..." his hips were thrusting hard, but not painfully so."Say it again, please," his voice was laced with fire and emotion, a whimper or sob nearly on his lips.

"Ransom...." she replied coming again and his fingers gripped into her skin, holding her in place as his seed shot deep into her, filling her, his entire body shaking, no nearly convusling as he came.

Breathlessly, they laid there, his body gently caging her in, her fingers curling around his neck and into the nape of his hair.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and you blinked, not quite sure you’d heard him right.

“What for?” You asked, your breath still punctuated by your gasps as you came down from your high.”

“For trusting me.” His nose nudged yours and you looked into his eyes, “for forgiving me.”

“I’m not sure I have.” You replied honestly, and a frown furrowed his brown before he sighed and closed his eyes, his head hanging a little.

“That’s fair, I suppose.” He looked back at you before he moved, pulling out of you and immediately you missed his presence, the heat of his body gone as he rolled to his side. You waited for him to rise and dress as he usually did but he made no effort to move. Instead he lay still, looking up at the ceiling before he turned onto his side, his fingers gently trailing down your bruised cheek as it brushed the soft pillow when you turned to look at him.

“Can I stay?” He asked.

It was a pointless question. Because, let’s face it, you didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t want to go he wasn’t going to, and it wasn’t like you could leave. But, nevertheless, the fact he had bothered to ask you in the first place was another first. And you found yourself suddenly believing that if you did say no, he would leave.

Instead you nodded, and he gave you a small smile, not a sneer or a smirk, a genuine smile that lit up his handsome face as he leaned over and pressed his lips tenderly to yours.

Together you managed to get yourself under the duvet before you reached up for the lamp and clicked it off before settling on your side, facing away from him.

“My err, my cheek hurts.” You said quietly, offering him an explanation as to why you’d turned your back on him. He gave a small sigh and one of his arms snaked under your neck, the other curled round your bare body, resting just underneath your breasts. He gave your shoulder a gentle kiss, another unspoken apology before you felt him tug you back into him, your back pressing against the hard wall of his chest.

He was the first to fall asleep, his body spent as was yours but you laid there still feeling the electricity roll through your muscles, tiredness settling into your bones. You had given him what he wanted but kept your ground and done it on your terms. It's what he'd needed this entire time, to hear his name from your lips, to be wanted to be cared about, to be "loved". You internally scoffed. To be loved... you doubted he had any idea what that actually meant, to be loved unconditionally. But as you’d questioned the other day over hot chocolate, was that really his fault?

This situation was fucked up. What you were doing was fucked up, but, if giving him what he wanted and what he needed kept you in the driving seat, so to speak, you could work with it.

**** Part 5

#murder he wrote #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you

343 notes · View notes

ragingpancake · 3 years

Text

How To Woo Your Scientist In 100 Cookies or Less

Rodney has a secret admirer. Prompt fic. See end of fic for prompt. ~1800 words.

The first time it appears is the morning after the ridiculous mission to M5-X847 (more accurately described as ‘Planet of the Bat-Shit Crazy Natives and Their Ridiculous Trading Ceremonies’ in the privacy of Rodney’s own mind and in the not-so-nearly private mess hall whenever anyone else brings it up). It’s left sitting on his desk by his absolute favorite computer on a folded up napkin from the mess hall, taunting him.

He’s still staring at it as if it holds the secrets to recharging a ZPM, the cure for male pattern baldness and the name of the man Carly Simon wrote a song about when John ambles in for his obligatory weekly hour of light switch duty.

“Ooh, cookie,” he says. Rodney smacks his hand away with a squawk of indignation.

“Mine!”

“Well, are you gonna eat it or just stare at it?”

Rodney settles for the latter while John unfairly makes Atlantis and all of her Ancient Tech roll over for him like the complete slut she is. Besides, he argues silently, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to kill him with baked goods. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Fifty nine minutes and fifty eight seconds later, John plucks the cookie off of the napkin and pops it into his mouth, crunching loudly and spewing crumbs everywhere.

“What did you do that for?” Rodney bellows.

“Just makin’ sure it was safe and citrus free,” John says with a toothy grin. “Next time, you’ll know. Cya later buddy,” he says and ambles back out of the room without a care in the world.

“Next time? How do you know there will be a next time?” Rodney yells after him. “How do you know?”

—-

There is, oddly enough, a ‘next time’. The next morning when Rodney stumbles into his lab, bleary eyed after a late night watching terrible movies and eating horrifyingly greasy food (thank you, Daedalus) with John, there’s another cookie sitting innocently on his desk, silently begging to be eaten. He’s still worried about the possibility of an assassination attempt but he rationalizes that no one is really going to use precious chocolate chips just to murder him so he lifts it up, sniffs it and then shoves it greedily into his mouth.

Less than hour later, he’s still alive and wishing he had another.

—-

By the fifth cookie, Rodney stops checking for the possibility of citrus-laced baked goods. Clearly, someone finally appreciates his genius and has decided the best way to thank him is to ply him with delicious sweet treats.

For once, Rodney doesn’t complain.

——

“Another one?” John asks, eying the 30th cookie longingly. “How many is that now?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lost count,” Rodney lies.

John just snorts in response.

——

“This is getting out of hand,” Kavanagh gripes. “How come we’re not allowed to eat around the computers, but he never says anything about that damn cookie appearing every morning? Why doesn’t Sh—”

Radek steps on Kavanagh’s foot and Miko’s elbow catches him in the side. Kavanagh squeaks and then miraculously falls silent.

Rodney eyes his scientists suspiciously “Why doesn’t who do what?”

“Nothing,” Radek says. “Is nothing but idiotic mumblings of a jealous man.”

“Jealous. Yeah, right,” Kavanagh snorts under his breath.

Rodney is still not convinced and he spends the rest of the day trying to bully Kavanagh into telling him exactly what’s going on.

Kavanagh is gleeful at the idea of knowing something that Rodney doesn’t.

—

“Hey Rodney?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you ever wonder who’s sending you cookies?”

Rodney eats the last bite of his cookie and glances over at John. “Not really, no. Don’t really care either, as long as they keep coming.”

“Oh.”

John goes back to touching uncatalogued Ancient tech while Rodney practically has oral sex with the left-over chocolate on his fingers. Rodney’s so caught up in his little delicious world that he doesn’t even notice when the device starts glowing in an ominous way.

“Uh… Rodney.”

Three seconds later, John’s unconscious on the floor and Rodney’s yelling into his headset for a medical team.

——

The next day, there is no cookie.

——

By the third cookieless day, Rodney decides that maybe Atlantis was the secret Cookie Fairy, because whoever it was is clearly pissed off that he almost killed John.

——

“I brought you something,” Rodney announces as soon as he palms the door to John’s room open. It’s the only room, other than his own that he’s ever been able to get into without resorting to screwing around with the crystals. He’s never questioned it, but now he’s grateful that John never had the urge to lock him out.

“Been stockpiling the goods from your Cookie Fairy?” John asks grumpily. Rodney cuts him slack because he knows he still has a killer headache from that damn piece of Ancient Tech.

“No,” Rodney says. “I uh, actually made these for you, and by ‘made these for you’, I really mean I bribed the kitchen staff with an extra ten minutes of hot water in the mornings but um, yeah. I got them. For you.”

John gives him an odd look and Rodney wonders if maybe there’s brain damage that Keller missed on the scans. Wouldn’t be the first time, he thinks bitterly.

“It’s just… you seemed to always be hanging around when I had my cookie and I uh… know that I wasn’t exactly willing to share with you even though I know chocolate chip is your favorite. But that’s not the point. The point… the point is… I screwed up that day. I should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and I wasn’t and I’m sorry and, and, and will you just say something and stop looking at me like that?”

John gives him a slight smile. “Thanks Rodney. You wanna watch a movie?”

For the first time since the cookies stopped coming, Rodney feels like he can breathe again.

——

The next morning, there’s still no cookie, though Rodney really didn’t expect there to be. He doesn’t even really care, because while he acquired the cookies for John the previous evening, he’s the one who ate almost the whole damn plate and if he never sees another chocolate chip cookie again, it’ll be too damn soon.

He has a lot of catching up to do because ever since John got hurt on his watch, he hasn’t exactly been able to concentrate on his work and damn if it hasn’t piled up already.

He powers up his computer and scowls at the stack of papers littering his workspace. Grabbing a handful, he flips through them and then discards them like the complete and utter trash they are. Kavanagh never could finish up the simplest of equations.

He’s just about to log in to the network with the corner of a piece of paper sticking from under his keyboard catches his eye. He frowns and pulls it out. The handwriting is vaguely familiar.

Meet me at the East Pier. 1800 hours. -Cookie Fairy

Rodney doesn’t know whether to be flattered or frightened. He just hopes that whoever the Cookie Fairy is, they’ve forgiven him as easily as John has.

——

The doors to the East Pier slide open with ease and Rodney can’t stop the nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach. The sun is already beginning to set in the Lantean sky, casting a gentle glow over the calm water. Leaning against the railing, there’s a familiar set of slouched shoulders and a crop of dark, messy hair.

“John?”

He turns and gives Rodney a nervous grin. “Hey buddy.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand. What are you… what are you doing here?”

He holds out the plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Uh… surprise?”

For once, the great Rodney McKay is completely speechless.

John clears his throat and shifts nervously from one foot to the next. He sets the plate of cookies down on the railing and rubs at the back of his reddening neck. “So I guess you… Uh, I guess this really isn’t what you were expecting.”

“No,” Rodney says dumbly, because he really wasn’t. Miko? Sure. Simpson? Maybe. But John Sheppard? John fucking Sheppard? Not in a million years. “Why?”

”M5-X847."

“The marriage ceremony? The one where they made you put stupid flowers in your hair and, and, and…”

“That’s the one.”

“But why?” Rodney asks, because he needs to know.

“Because I wanted it to be real,” John blurts out. His ears are absolutely flaming at this point and Rodney’s sure they’re going to spontaneously combust if they get any brighter. “I needed… I needed you to know and I didn’t know how to tell you so I…”

“You baked. For me.”

“Every day.”

“Until you got hurt.”

“Well, yeah. It was kind of difficult when standing long enough to get to the bathroom was a chore. I was… I wanted to tell you that day, but you didn’t… you said you didn’t want to know.”

“I was afraid it was Kavanagh or some other equally terrible person!”

“Why would Kavanagh bake you cookies?”

“I don’t know! If could have been part of some nefarious plan to clog my arteries and send me to an early grave via horrendous heart blockage!”

John just stares at him. “Seriously?”

“Hey, it could happen.”

“Rodney, shut up,” John says and then he’s suddenly there, his lips pressed to Rodney’s.

It’s wonderful and terrifying and so right.

Rodney makes a little noise of surprise against John before he relaxes into his the kiss, reaching up tentatively to card his fingers through his silly hair.

When they break apart, they’re both panting.

“Was that… was that okay?”

“I don’t know,” Rodney says. “I think… purely for research purposes, you understand, I’m going to need you to kiss me again.”

“No problem,” John says and he leans in to kiss Rodney again.

——

By the time they’ve finished kissing, they’re both shivering in the chilly night air. John’s hair is messier than usual and Rodney’s lips are red and swollen.

“Seriously though,” Rodney says, burrowing closer to John’s side as John drops an arm around his shoulders. “Cookies? Really?”

“I figured that at least when it came to you, the old saying was true. The way to your heart is definitely through your stomach.”

“So you thought you could woo me with cookies?”

“It worked though,” John says triumphantly.

Rodney grins. It worked.

“Hey, next time, you think you could do peanut butter?”

“Shut up, Rodney,” John says fondly

“Why don’t you make me?”

“My pleasure.”

Prompt

:One day you come into work and find a cookie mysteriously placed on your desk. Grateful to whoever left this anonymous cookie, you eat it. The next morning you come in and find another cookie. This continues for months until one day a different object is left--and this time there's a note.

#mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #sga #fandom: sga #stargate atlantis #ficlet #prompt fic #reposted from my old LJ as this is the only fic I've written in the past that didn't give me major second hand embarrassment.

52 notes · View notes

allthewhumpygoodness · 3 years

Text

They wake up tired. But it hardly matters; they went to bed late, got up early for school, and with all the work they’ve got to do they’ve been stressed enough to wear them down more often than usual. It’s a cold day, they can feel it even from inside. They bundle up in more layers than they probably need, and only have a small bit to eat before hurrying out the door, ready for their usual bus rid to the collage.

Their morning classes go by in a blur, between the dim florescent lights making their head ache and their already foggy brain they find it hard not to fall asleep as the professor talks. On top of that they’re still cold, despite wearing most of their layers in class. It would be so easy to curl up in a ball of warm clothing with their head on their desk and shut their eyes, but they have to keep up with their work.

By lunch hour they’ve started shivering. It’s not just the sweatshirt and winter coat now, but their scarf and even their hat. One of their classmates - all right, almost close enough to them to be called a friend - sits next to them in the break room and laughs at them. “Aren’t you hot?” they say.

“Dunno. Maybe.” They should be, and maybe they are, but if they remove even one article of clothing they feel a persistent chill across their skin. They shiver harder, hunching down and looking over their notes yet again.

“Can I have a chip?” Their friend has been inching steadily closer to their bag of potato chips they planned to eat ten minutes ago.

“Go ahead,” they say. Despite barely eating breakfast, they aren’t hungry. They have a sip of water though, and that feels good. But it makes them realize for the first time how scratchy their throat feels. Wonderful. Another thing to worry about. They cough a little, and go back to their notes.

In the afternoon they sit at the back of the class, huddled in their layers and barely concentrating on what the professor is droning on about. Everything hurts, maybe it’s from shivering so hard, and they feel like their muscles are being shredded to pieces with a fork. The cough shows up more frequently now, they try to keep it quiet for the sake of their classmates but sometimes it’s impossible not to let it out. There’s an ache behind their eyes that only just goes away if they close them, and they’re too tired to care anymore so they do, resting their head in their hand.

It shouldn’t be like this. They’re a good student, they can’t turn into one of those kids who falls asleep in class, even if they’re tired or bored, they can’t just give up so easily. After another round of half-stifled coughs they feel a hand tap their elbow and turn to see their friend beside them, looking concerned. “Are you okay?” they ask.

“Fine. I’m just tired.” Their vision swims a little and they shut their eyes again, willing the black spots in front of their eyes to go away.

“You don’t look good,” their friend says. They don’t feel good, either, it’s taken this long and this much misery for them to put it into words, but they really, really don’t.

Another voice cuts through the fog in their brain. The professor. “Are you doing all right back there?”

Everyone is staring at them. They can feel themself flushing red, it’s bad enough that they feel like they’re about to pass out, now they’re the center of attention at the worst time in the world and they can’t handle it.

“I’m fine,” they say hoarsely, praying they’ll all just leave them alone.

“They’re not,” that’s their friend, saving them and humiliating them all at once.

“Do you need to step outside?” says the professor. They’re in the middle of shaking their swimming head when their friend interrupts with, “yeah, I think they do. I’ll take them, be back in a minute.”

They don’t know how they stand up, but the next second they’re leaning heavily on their friend’s arm and escaping the crowded classroom, face still burning with embarrassment.

Soon they’re outside, and their friend helps them sit against the wall, gently pushing their head between their knees. “You went so white in there, I thought you were going to faint.”

“I’m not,” they mutter into their knees, though they might not be far away.

Their classmate’s hand touches their cheek, it’s only then they realize how cool it is, and how hot their head feels compared to the rest of their icy body. “You feel really hot...oh honey, why didn’t you say you were sick?”

They don’t know how to answer, they didn’t know they were sick until now, but it makes sense.

“Which pocket is your water bottle in?”

They frown, it’s hard to remember at the moment. “Second one,” they answer. But their bag isn’t out with them so why - ?

They feel a gentle pat on their back. “I’ll be back in a second, you stay there.”

They want to protest, but it’s all they can do to stop from collapsing even sitting down, so they focus on that instead.

Soon their friend is back, and they slowly raise their head to look at them. The floor under them rocks uncomfortably and there’s a weird shimmer around the walls. They blink hard, but it doesn’t go away. Next to them, their friend has brought their bag and fished out their water bottle, which they gratefully accept with a shaking hand. They take a sip, but all it does is confirm how much their throat hurts.

“You’ve got to go home,” their friend says. “You’re really sick, there’s no way you can keep yourself here.”

“I can’t go,” they reply, panic starting to rise in their chest. “I’ve got so much to do, I’ll never be able to finish all my assignments if I leave, I’m going to fail everything - “ And unable to stop themself, they start to cry. They feel their friend’s hand rubbing their back, hear their soft reassurances, but it’s not enough. Everything hurts and the tears aren’t helping, but they can’t stop no matter how much they try.

Eventually they’ve cried themself into a hiccupping silence. They don’t want to move, wish they could just stay slumped against the wall and their friend’s arm for the rest of their life, but far too soon they feel a tap on their shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got to get you home. I’ll walk you downstairs.”

They have to shake their head to clear it. “No...you go back to class, I’m okay...”

“Hush. Can you stand up?”

They can, but their vision swims and soon they’re clinging to their friend’s arm with their eyes shut tight. “That’s it,” they hear, “hold on to me, we’ll get there.”

They keep their eyes closed and try to distance themself from the present as they’re supported down the stairs and to the front doors, trying not to feel the aches all over their body and how much their exhaustion seems to drag their bones into the floor. How is it that they feel so terrible when they woke up just fine that very morning?

A rush of cold air hits their face when they step outside, both soothing on their too-warm cheeks and horribly uncomfortable on the rest of their body. They manage to stay standing for long enough to sit down on a bumper at the edge of the parking lot, still shivering in the depths of their many layers. Their bag is plopped down next to them - they hadn’t realized their friend brought it out for them.

Their friend sits down beside them, a hand on their shoulder. “I don’t want you trying to get home on your own...if you want I can drive you back.”

They shake their head firmly - this person they don’t even know that well outside of school has already done far too much for them today, they can’t let them miss their own class on top of that.

“Fine, if you’re sure. Is there someone I can call for you?”

Their first answer would be no, but then they remember that one person. A mutual friend, they suppose they could be called, and they never want to bother them but now...if anyone is going to help them...as little though they want to admit it, they don’t know if they can make it home by themself.

Their friend gives them a knowing look when they let them know, and starts pulling out their phone and punching in numbers. It’s embarrassing, and they hate the attention, hate that they’re going to bother yet another person with their stupid problems. But at the same time a tiny bit of tension that’s settled along their shoulders lessens. They’re going home, to their own warm bed. It’s all they want.

“I’ve called them,” their friend says. “Want me to wait with you?”

They nod, unable to keep pretending they don’t need them. Their friend goes around them, pulling them in close. “Okay. You’ll be home soon, make sure you get lots of rest and drink plenty of fluids, all right? Take care of yourself.”

They nod again, wearily. Already they can feel their consciousness slipping away on their friend’s shoulder, they know if they fall asleep they’ll have to be woken up once their ride gets there and hate it, but for now they can’t help themself. It’s been an exhausting day, and it’s not even over, full of trying so hard to pretend they’re fine, but now they’re about to go home and let someone else help them for a change.

So they stop trying.

#whump #sickfic whump #well this is...embarrassingly long #yikes #e's whump writings

203 notes · View notes

so-writing · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (22)

all parts here

“Is it ok if we don’t invite anyone over?”

The two of you had eaten your fill but there was so much extra food that you felt a little guilty about your question. Allowing yourself to bring your walls down around Matt alone was hard enough, introducing his friends into the mix would be too much at once.

You knew them all and no one would treat your poorly or anything like that, but the suspicions about the two of you they probably already had would be confirmed. You were smart enough to know that both Matt and yourself had been acting weird around each other lately, so there was no way no one else noticed.

“Of course, will you help me pack up the extra stuff? Only what you want though, we’re about to fill your fridge.”

“Matt, really? I don’t need all this.”

“I know, but I want to make sure you remember tonight and leftovers will help.”

The two of you put the food into containers and walked them to your apartment in near silence. It was awkward as hell, the only sound being your key turning in the lock and footsteps as you both stepped inside.

“Onyx!”

Matt set the containers he had on your counter and rushed over to pick up the purring cat. Onyx nuzzled his head against Matt’s neck and settled happily in his arms, more than content with being loved on. Thank fuck for him though, because you had no idea how to break the tension that had followed you from the hall and into your apartment.

“I kind of forget he exists sometimes but then I see him again and remember how good of friends we are.”

“He’s going to be good friends with everyone who treats him like that,” you waved your hand in Matt’s direction, “I’m going to put this stuff away.”

As far as dates went, this one hadn’t been too bad. Matt had gone out of his way to get more food than would ever be necessary, you had normal conversations while you ate and there was even some laughter. Guilt was eating at you a little bit for keeping the others away but Matt didn’t seem to be bothered.

“Well, I guess this is it?”

The awkward silence returned as soon as you spoke and Matt set Onyx down on the couch.

“What? No, this isn’t the end of the date. Come on back up, I still have stuff planned.”

Locking your door behind you, you let Matt lead you back to his apartment. His body language was kind of weird, and it seemed like he was going to make an attempt to grab your hand, thought better of it, and instantly pulled away, opting instead to stay about a foot ahead of you. Neither of you spoke on the elevator ride up or the walk to his door.

“Matt this is really awkward, I can’t even lie.”

The standard expression on his face shifted into a smile as he unlocked the door and ushered you inside.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m not good at dates. I don’t go on them very often.”

“You usually skip the soft part and go straight to sex, right?”

He definitely didn’t expect that, as evidenced by his wide eyes and red cheeks. When he didn’t respond, you laughed it off, “that was a mostly a joke, because you do have a reputation. Even though we’re just now doing whatever we’re doing, I’ve been here a while.”

“I always forget that.”

“It’s easy to do. You’re a professional hockey player, I’m somebody’s assistant. Had we not been forced to be roommates on, interestingly, the only roadie I’ve had to attend, I wouldn’t be here right now. You would continue to avoid me unless you had to talk to me, which would be short and rude and maybe include an insult, and I would continue to tolerate it to keep my job.”

It was not what he wanted to hear on what was supposed to be a date that was supposed to be the start of something good, but there it was. He had treated her poorly for years and to hear that she would still be continuing to deal with it today if things hadn’t changed was heartbreaking. He felt like his head was being slammed against the ice a thousand times at the sound of just a simple statement.

It hurt even worse because he knew she was right. They would be in the same exact place they had always been in and he would have completely missed out on an opportunity to meet someone who now meant so much to him, he couldn’t see himself without her.

“I don’t know what to say, sorry isn’t enough. I’ve been horrible to you for no reason at all for a long time and I don’t have any excuses as for why. I’m so fucking sorry, I really am. The fact that you had to deal with my abuse all this time, just to keep your paycheck, makes me sick to my stomach.”

“I wouldn’t call it abuse, exactly. Everyone’s got a mean coworker.”

“I made you sleep on the floor, I made you cry, I created a toxic work environment for you for two years and you couldn’t do anything about it. You wouldn’t call that abuse?”

He dropped to the couch and watched her shoulders sag and heard her sigh.

“Matt, look, I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty by saying that. I was just making an observation at how different the circumstances could be had the chips not fallen the way they did.”

He knew that wasn’t her intention, but it didn’t matter. He’d fucked up so much with her and he couldn’t believe she was even there in the first place.

“I don’t deserve you. I want you but I don’t deserve you and you should take the job in Philadelphia.”

What had you done? A lighthearted date that had started with takeout and casual conversation had spiraled into a torrential downpour. He was just begging you not to leave and inappropriately kissing you in the hallway at work and now he was telling to accept the job? What the fuck?

“Can we just stop this? Can we go back to whatever you had planned before I opened my mouth and said some dumb shit? Dates are supposed to be fun, this isn’t fun.”

Matt was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, you didn’t think he was crying but when he raised his head and met your gaze, his eyes were rimmed red and puffy.

“Why are you?! Oh my god!”

You nearly ran to sit down next to him and threw your arms around his shoulders. He didn’t push you away, but he wasn’t trying to hug you back.

“People have to deal with bullshit all the time at work, even you, most hated player in the league. You don’t seem to let it get to you, I didn’t either. The hotel room was rough, yes, but clearly I got over it. I’m here right now aren’t I? You think I would want anything to do with you if I was still upset?”

You eased away from him as he rubbed his face and ran his hands through his curls.

“Jesus, I really am terrible at dates. Crying on one is a first though.”

The tension lessened a little and you stood up from beside him, walking over to the window to take in the view of the city.

“I’m sorry I made you come to some realizations you weren’t ready to face, or maybe didn’t even know existed but I promise that the man here now is not the same one I had to share a shitty hotel mattress with.”

“You mean this one is worse?”

You both chuckled at his half hearted joke and this time, the silence hanging between the two of you was peaceful.

“I didn’t mean what I said before.”

“That you don’t deserve me? Or that I should go to Philly?”

“I meant half of it, I definitely don’t deserve you, but I don’t want you to take the job with the Flyers.”

“I know.”

“Which part of that are you referring to?”

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

He joined you by the window and the two of you stood next to each other in silence for a few minutes, both focusing on the view below you and not the confusing mix of emotions dancing around in your heads.

“I’ve gotta be honest, Matt, I’m really tired.”

“You’re probably not willing to sleep here, are you?”

“Not tonight. Tonight has been way too heavy for us to have a fucking sleepover.”

You gently punched his shoulder before pulling him into a hug.

“Can we try again?”

“Of course, we can absolutely try again.”

“I’m sorry for crying, holy fuck, that is so fucking embarrassing, shit.”

“Shut up, Tkachuk, I like a man that isn’t afraid to show his feelings.”

Matt walked you over to his door and pulled you into another tight hug, asking if he could walk you back to yours. Despite his best efforts, you went home alone.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

114 notes · View notes

saphirered · 3 years

Text

The Wizard and the Warrior

Boy it’s been busy. Double shifts whenever I’ve been free and uni starting again have really been a hassle but I managed to get in some writing so I hope you enjoy this final instalment of the Eldritch Knight series! Was going to split this one in two parts but didn’t work out so sorry for that. Hope you like it! 😘

You didn’t know what to expect when you were pulled through the world away from the homey Xhorhaus but you definitely didn’t expect the sound of waves in the distance and seagulls, the subtile smell of salt water and sand and an ocean breeze to hit you when you reappeared. Upon your vision taking in the new surroundings you find yourself standing under one of the opal archways looking out over a covered market selling all sorts of goods from street foods and drinks to knickknacks and jewellery, merchants calling for the attention of the people strolling about, negotiating prices or shouting their latest discount to pull in new customers. You’re in Nicodranas.

Essek knew he made the right decision when he sees the joy and excitement on your face. His feet tap the ground and he walks instead of floating, not wanting to draw any more attention that necessary and instead just enjoy these moments with you without the possibility of people finding out who you really are. Today you’d just be normal people without the weight of the world balanced on your shoulders. Today you got to be ordinary tourists exploring a city you otherwise never could. Nobody knows you’d be here.

You stroll about the market arm in arm moving from shop to shop and stand to stand inspecting wares, admiring them and listening to the stories the merchants tried to sell you. Both of you knew better and were able to easily distinguish truth from lies but that didn’t mean you didn’t like playing along every so often.

When you reached near the end of the market square the canopies started leaving gaps and eventually disappeared. Essek did his best to hide his winces whenever the sunlight was particularly bright. The sun was setting but it would still be another hour or so until it was fully set and he might have underestimated the brightness of the light. He didn’t let it bother him and pulled through. The slight discomfort is one-hundred percent worth looking upon your face as you bartered with another merchant.

Essek was partially blinded from where he stood while you browsed the wares of a man selling all sorts of curiosities but he couldn’t really move elsewhere without leaving your side or stepping into the path of walking people so he stuck and stayed relying on his hearing instead. You were bartering with the man as he put prices to the things you showed interest in and you tried to get a better price because you were fully aware you could get something similar if not the same for much cheaper. Essek couldn’t do anything but admire your skill and careful navigation of this encounter showing you had not left your wits with your armour back in Rosohna.

Once you got a good deal you bought your findings; a wide sheer shawl more like a thin blanket to wrap around your shoulders as you knew upon nightfall the breeze could bring a chill, a decorated silver bracelet with an inset purple gem that showed silver specks like stars whenever it caught the light just right and something else… Once done you pulled Essek aside into the full cover of one of the canopies and Essek was thankful for the break.

You’d expected Essek to have broken or admitted to his discomfort before when you noticed him wince every time the canopy lifted upon the wind and allowed the sun to bleed through right where he stood. You knew drow senses are attuned to darker spaces and in turn therefor experience a sensitivity to daylight.

“Will you stop being stubborn and just admit when something bothers you?” You say sternly as Essek rubs his eyes to get rid of the dark spots clouding his vision. When he sees the look you give him he bites his lip in shame. Apparently he hadn’t done such a good job of hiding it after all.

“I may not be able to do anything about the sunlight but I can do this.” You take out a parasol of a dark grey almost black colour with ornate lace designs added to it. It does enough to shield those under from the light and should prevent Essek from experiencing downsides of his drow heritage. Before he can protest you link your arm with his again holding the parasol above the two of you and shield yourselves from the light.

“Don’t worry. You can thank me by providing your company over a meal with me until the sun sets and we can go outside again without you burning off your retinas. I know just the place.” You smile as you begin leading Essek away to a different part of the city. You may not be the most familiar with Nicodranas but you know how to get to most places you’ve been before. You know your way from this market square to the Lavish Chateau so you begin leading Essek in that direction.

“There’s a great fish and chips shop on the way near Tidepeak I don’t think that kind of street food is really your style.” You say as the Tidepeak comes into view.

—————

Meanwhile the Nein and Verin stumble out into the teleportation circle room at the Tidepeak. They cracked the code and figured it out based on the list of places Verin had found among Essek’s notes. They knew exactly where Essek was going so it wouldn’t be much effort to find you two right? What harm has a little spying ever done to anyone? Maybe don’t answer that question. They had come for their own reasons be that to watch an epic romance unravel, dig up some dirt to tease or blackmail either of you with, or simply to keep the others in check.

“Shit. Should we have send a message?” Jester panics looking around for the goblin that usually helps them on their way and informs Yussa of their arrival.

“Not again.” Beau exclaims in exasperation. Yes again. And again they explain to Wensforth this is a matter of the utmost importance and expediency and they couldn’t have sent a message beforehand or lost too much time. Wensforth luckily for them didn’t have it within him to question their strange reasonings as he escorted them out of the tower and left the to their business.

—————

Within the Lavish Chateau you found out Essek had made a reservation and the guards and servers seemed to be extremely welcoming and attentive to the both of you for some reason you raised an eyebrow when a top shelf bottle of wine was brought out and left at your table once your glasses were poured and you awaited your food.

“Do I want to ask how you did all this?” You swirl your finger around gesturing to your surroundings. “Because last I was here, not even the daughter of the Ruby of the Sea and her friends get this kind of attendance.”

“Then perhaps it’s best you don’t ask.” Essek smiles proudly.

“How many of the Nicodranian nobility have cleared their debt with the Dynasty or reminded of their indiscretions then?” You ask giving him a look over your glass as you take a sip of delicious wine. Top shelf really is worth it.

“I thought you weren’t going to ask.” You hook your ankle around his from under the table and pull your leg back, Essek briefly loses balance but not enough to throw him off and fall from his seat. He gives you a disapproving and teasing look as you laugh. Food is served and just like everything, it’s perfect. Essek really put in the work to make this all happen and if the sunlight hadn’t thrown you off his schedule you can’t even fantom what else he had planed for your date. Though, he didn’t seem to mind the change of plans a single bit.

Pleasant conversation about everything and nothing all the same, asking questions so trivial you didn’t think Essek would ever even have been capable of being so relaxed and free of responsibility. When it falls silent for a second and Essek catches you staring at him in thought he studies you closer.

“What?” Essek asks as you hum.

“Just thinking?”

“A copper for your thoughts then?” Essek puts his glass down. He doesn’t want to pry or ask out of turn but he is curious as of what got that dreamy expression on your face when you retreated within your own mind for that moment.

“All of them?” You grin.

“If you are willing to reveal them.” Essek returns to your surprise, fully aware of the meaning behind your words and yet he still plays along. These kind of moments are rare with Essek unless you are completely alone so you’ll revel in the fact that he lets go like he does right now and hope you’d be able to see this side more often.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to get all flustered upon my voicing certain thoughts.” You tease, mischievous look in his eyes as he leans in on his elbows on the table and tilts his head amused.

“Then perhaps keep it limited to your most recent ones? For now at least.” You snort and almost choke on the sip of wine you took bur recover quickly. You definitely didn’t see that one coming.

“Oh so he does play the game in public without shame. You are full of surprises today, aren’t you?” You drop the teasing and turn to your observation. “I was just thinking I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so carefree. I’d love to see this side of you more often if you’ll let me.” The teasing drops from Essek’s face and his expression turns into one of genuine affection.

“I’d love nothing more.” Your glasses are refilled as the crowd begins gathering for the performance of the Ruby of the Sea.

—————

The Mighty Nein and Verin follow Jester leading them from place to place on the list but no matter how much they search they can’t find you. Last they heard you were seen buying some stuff from a merchant and then nothing so they had resorted to going down the list until they’d found you but still nothing. Over an hour had passed and the sun long since set, lanterns lit to lead the ways.

They search high and low following the list Verin had found but don’t find you and Essek anywhere. Nicordanas is a big city and turns out finding a buff pretty person and a hot boi drow are a lot harder to find than they initially thought. So, having given up the search they instead turn to a place to drink and wallow in self pity for not spying on the date. Jester knows just the place… No better place than the Lavish Chateau. Maybe her mom will even perform tonight!

When they reach the Lavish Chateau the crowd’s already gathering but with sheer determination and the threatening of some they make it through and find a table, their drinks served as Jester goes off to say hi to her mom before the performance. Then of course Verin and Beau ask about a couple, describing you and Essek having come through here. Instead they’re pointed to a private table out of the direct sight of the entrance but in full view of what is to be the Ruby’s performance space, and if Beau knows anything, a really really expensive bottle of wine shared between the two of you as you sit around laughing and engaging in happy conversation.

As they watch, Essek and you suddenly being the most interesting thing in the entire room they notice a blush creeping up your face as you twirl one of the flowers in your hair returning an equally daring comment of your own, your fingers dancing over the back of Essek’s hand outstretched towards you until he closes his hand and grasps them. You gasp and giggle as he intwines your fingers with his and you making a comment that sends a deep purple crawling up the wizard’s cheeks. The Nein watch, some swooning at the cuteness, the others in surprise and a hint of disgust akin to that of watching your sibling be sugary sweet romantic with their partner you do not want to witness, and the rest like encouraging friends glad their friends have found happiness within each other.

The performance is about to begin and you spot a blue tiefling running down the stairs as quick as she can darting to one of the tables. You already had the feeling you were being watched for the past fifteen minutes but thought nothing of it as since no action was taken yet and the crowd grew, if it were assassins or the likes again, they’d have come for you before as to not make a scene. Getting confirmation your friends had tracked you to Nicodranas and found you here. You’re not surprised but rather impressed and the addition of what clearly looks like a drow soldier of some repute with features similar to Essek lead you to believe this must be his infamous brother he’d been complaining about plenty of times. You move your chair as if to get a better view of the performance to come and sit right next to Essek. You weren’t the only one who noticed them.

“Do you think they know we know they’re here.” Essek leans into your shoulder as he speaks.

“No. Not this time but if you weren’t so caught up in admiring me you’d have noticed them first.” You lean in closer, whispering into his ear as you speak.

“You are quite distracting.” Essek defends with a laugh.

“I’ve seen Beau and your brother gag and complain twice now. Is this the point where we return the favour and give them a show to remember?” You suggest with a glint of mischief within your eyes.

“How could I refuse?” Essek’s word are enough for you to further provoke the Nein and take it up a notch, or several.

“Tell me if something makes you uncomfortable and I’ll stop.” You halt your teasing and allow your tone to turn more serious. Essek does the same when you do.

“Only if you promise to do the same.” Essek doesn’t know if it’s the wine or your shared desire to make them suffer for interrupting your date like they did. Probably the latter. Most definitely the latter. Let them squirm.

The Ruby comes down the stairs singing and everyone hangs onto her every word, her entire being like she’s a siren from the depths ready to lure in hopeless sailors. As her performance continues you move yourself closer to Essek until your sides are pressed together. Essek’s arm wraps around you pulling you close into his side and to your surprise, onto his lap. You lean your head against his shoulder and whisper sweet nothings, as you play with the fingers of his free hand lovingly. You pay attention to the performance, little attention needed for this display of affection as it comes surprisingly natural and unrestrained to the both of you.

You lift your head and lean towards Essek, but an inch away from his lips, making eye contact as you whisper something to him but the Nein can’t hear over the singing and you’re too far away to lip read for anyone. It’s so frustrating but holy hells, they never knew Essek had a romantic bone in his body, let alone the guts to drop his composed and emotionally constipated side completely around you. They definitely didn’t see this coming and even Beau could relate to Jester’s possible ideas of turning this into some kind of smutty romance novel because that’s what it looked like.

When you leaned back, always teasing and never close enough to actually kiss, you watched the performance more. Both you and Essek admired the show the Ruby was putting on. Her song as beautiful as she is but you might have connected with her a little more than anyone else in the room because when she passed your table and saw you and Essek she gave you a knowing smile. A knowing smile that showed she knew exactly when a performance was being put on, the courtesan’s ability to read people shining through once more when she winked at you before she turned around and found her way to the table of the Nein, distracting them from you and pulling the attention to herself.

Essek was surprised and didn’t really know what to make of what just happened but next he knows he’s being pulled away from his seat by you and dragged to a side exit, abandoning the table mid performance. Out in the street you take off running and then it hits him; a moment of privacy. You played everyone, even him in the end when you appeared to have your attention fully on the Ruby of the Sea but instead you had a nonverbal agreement with the woman. Regardless of his thoughts you kept running towards the eastern edge of the city, through the gates and to the beach. Freedom.

The moon and stars and city lights within the walls as your light source you pulled Essek along to the shoreline, laughing your asses off. You’ll have to remember to give Marion a big thanks next time you see her. Once safely away from the city sure you’re far enough away from the city you slow your pace and walk side by side along the beach.

“As clever as ever.” Essek compliments as you bump your shoulder into his with a grin. You offer Essek a hand as you climb over some rocks blocking your path. Essek takes it but instead of climbing he just hoovers over without any difficulty.

“While, I’d gladly take credit I think you deserve at least half. Did you see the looks on their faces?” Your laughter rings like chimes in reminisce of your friends. It’s music to Essek’s ears.

“I could never forget.” You stop and lower yourself onto the sand, gently pulling Essek’s arm inviting him to join. He does and sits down next to you as stare at him.

“Today was a good day. We should do this more often.” You sigh in content. There’s just something about the drow and the starry night sky behind him that makes him look so ethereal, you could look at him for ages and never get bored.

“Being run out of a city by our friends for a moment of privacy?” Essek deadpans and you playfully shove him.

“While it was certainly eventful I think I could do without uninvited company next time.” In comfortable silence you both watch the view. Moon reflecting on the ocean, sound of gentle push and pull of the water against the shore and the thousands of stars scattered throughout the sky giving the both of you a sense of warmth and comfort.

“You certainly found your courage tonight. I never thought you capable of such intimate displays of affection.” You comment and Essek turns his gaze to you. Despite the low light you notice the slight darkening of his cheeks a he takes in a breath.

“I partially blame the determination to push my brother’s buttons.” You snort.

“And the other part?” Essek decides to humour you with and answer even though you hadn’t expected one.

“You, as my partner in crime as some might say, made it easy to put on such a display. Though, I will admit to not being so open and frivolous in my affection with an audience, I did enjoy them nonetheless.”

“Well then, I’m glad my frivolous affection brings you joy.” You say and Essek is about to correct himself for his words but stops when he notices you holding back your smile. You know exactly what he meant and when Essek notices it’s his turn to gently shove you. You gasp even though you’re physically unmoved.

“Aren’y you all courage tonight? Careful now or I’ll toss you into the ocean.” You jest.

“It seems both of us have not been lacking any courage this night.” Essek comments and he’s right. With the antics of the day, and your grand escape, you might never have had it been any other situation. You really did enjoy it and wouldn’t change a single thing. Well, maybe add something but there’s no time like the present so maybe you’ll just ask.

“Then, in a bout of courage, I will ask you this. May I kiss you?” Essek does a double take in case he heard your words wrong but the expression written all over you confirms he has in fact heard you loud and clear. Still he doesn’t miss a beat in his answer. He’s already made up his min.

“You certainly may.” With that you close your eyes and lean in placing your lips onto Essek’s in a gentle kiss. No pretend, no faked lust or intimacy but honest, clear and unrestrained emotion. When you pull away you’re both smiling like fools.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You whisper as Essek leans in carefully to kiss you this time, lips moving together in a slightly deeper kiss. His hand finds your cheek holding your face lightly caressing a thumb over your cheekbone.

“I could say the same.” Essek speaks when you pull apart for a moment, foreheads leaning against each other. Many more kisses follow, varying from gentle and sweet to passionate and deep, whatever suits your needs. You have no intention of getting off this beach near Nicodranas any time soon nor do you have anywhere to be so here you’ll stay enjoying each other’s company until the sun rises.

From behind the rocks not too far away, eight people watch the wizard and the warrior finally do what some of them had hoped they would in the months they’ve gotten closer. Others are turning away while maybe peaking through at times, solely to see their friends happy with each other despite the chaos of the world but not without going right back to quieting their gagging noises of ‘not wanting to see the people who they consider their family making out’.

“Oh my god! This is going to be so good, you guys. They’re so cute!” Jester whispers already taking notes and working out the story in her head. It’s going to be an epic love tale of two star-crossed lovers for sure. Maybe she can question you on the more spicier details later, get this book to sell at the Chastity's Nook some day?

“Ugh. Let’s go. I can’t watch this any longer. Drinks?” Verin doesn’t resist and follows Beau, Yasha and Fjord back to Nicodranas. Caduceus has a bit more difficult of a time to drag the cleric and rogue away as the latter enabling her actions instead of giving you some much deserved privacy. He succeeds eventually leaving you and Essek behind to enjoy the rest of your night with a smile. Nothing better than people finding their own happiness.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #essek x reader #essek thelyss x reader

39 notes · View notes

blkgojo · 3 years

Text

Two Superheroes, One Bed | Carol Danvers x Reader

In which, you and Carol hate each other, but have to share a bed.

Request: Anonymous

Despite popular misconception being a former terrorist does not make people like you. If anything, it makes them hate you. Despise you. Question you incessently with things such as, "Why did you do this? What is wrong with you? How could you have justified those acts?" And to be honest, your answer was less than satisfying. There was no tragic backstory. No great villain speech. Just you and your hatred for the government.

Living in the Avenger facility did little to change that.

See, the thing about Carol Danvers was that she wasn't an "Earth" hero. Logically speaking, there should've been no reason you disliked eachother as much as you did. You didn't work for the Kree. You had no squabble with saving refugees from colonial rule. On paper, you two were two peas in a pod. Both looking after people who didn't have others to help them, but you hated her the moment you laid eyes on her. Carol Danvers with the huge ass ego. Carol Danvers who somehow was fighting an intergalactic empire, but saw no problem with the way the US military conducted business. She hated you because honestly, who likes a murderer. Redemption arc be damned. You know how it goes.

"I just feel like I've done nothing to deserve this."

"You've killed hundreds of people."

"In total, the Avengers have killed like 2000 so, I don't really see how that's relevant."

Natasha sighs. Steve steps forward and when you cut your eyes at him, he raises his hands in plea.

"Half the universe's population is gone. The US government just needs a win."

You nod slowly. "And sending me across the fucking galaxy with-" You gesture vaguely to the blonde who until that point had decided to be quiet. "- is somehow a win."

"I hate to say this, but I agree," Carol interjects. "I work better alone. Y/N will just hold me back."

"We just need someone to go back to the planet where the infinity stores were destroyed. Make sure there are no remnants."

"It'd be quicker if I did it by myself."

"Y/N is the only one with the ability to replicate organic life," Steve retorts. "If there's a possibility she can locate some particle of infinity stone and replicate that, we need to take that chance."

"It'd be good publicity for her image and it'd bring us one step closer to bringing them back," Natasha continues.

"The world needs you to put aside your differences for the mission."

That was another thing you regretted about joining the Avengers. Steve had no shortage of motivating speeches under his belt. The good thing about villains was that they weren't much for conversation - there was no need to give motivating speeches when the odds were in your favor.

But, people were gone. Wanda, the only one you remotely liked, was gone. Snapped. Looking at Carol now, it looks like she must've lost someone, too. Her unpleasant face looks somehow more restrained than it usually did.

You sigh and fold your arms. "Fine."

All Carol does is nod.

It would take two earth days to reach his planet. Two. There'd been complications with the engine and so, it would take not the twenty four hours you expected, you know the time span that was customary for light travel, but it would take two days. Between that and the ship having to lower the heat to maintain proper oxygen levels, it wasn't fun.

"I could fly us there," Carol offers.

"Are you forgetting I can't breathe in space?"

Carol shrugs. "You replicate organic life right? Just replicate yourself a new pair of lungs."

"Fuck you."

She smirks, takes the only other available chair next to you. At first, she seems content to annoy you by tapping her fingers against the dashboard. Then, she grows bored. Worse, she tries to talk to you.

"Isn't all of this stuff automated?"

"Yes."

"So," she begins, stretching out the word. "You don't actually need to be here monitoring it. You can get on the cot." She shrugs. "Take a nap."

"I'd rather keep watch."

You think that'll be it and she'll be done, but she continues. You never would've pegged her as the type to not like silence. But, maybe that's not even it. Maybe, she just wanted to squeeze information out of you. God knows you weren't exactly open with the other Avengers when Fury made you join.

"You ever been to outer space?"

You shake your head. "When you're flagged as a global liability they tend to prefer you on the ground."

"A global liability? Is that what terrorists call themselves?"

"At least, we don't give ourselves cutesy nicknames like Black Widow or Captain Marvel."

She scoffs. "No. You guys just blow up innocent civilians."

"Yeah, I guess accidentally killing them is way better." You smile thinly. "For the greater good and all, you know?"

She stares at you long enough that you don't think she'll actually speak. Finally, she looks away and out to the empty abyss in front of you. "I don't pretend to know what the Avengers did while I was off-world. I see them now and they're good people."

You don't respond and she continues. "You must agree. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

"Fury said it was either this or experimentation."

"Fury didn't say that."

You laugh bitterly. "He didn't, but he didn't need to. The governments experiment on all mutants - that's how we got Steve and Wanda - they just don't talk about it anymore." You spare her a glance. There's nothing in her expression that would tell you what she's thinking. "So, I chose the Avengers. And here we are."

"You could've escaped."

"Where?" You lean forward in your seat and prop your elbow on the dash. "Please tell me. Where can someone who's wanted internationally hide?"

She squints her eyes. "I'd help, but unfortunately, my knowledge of ideal vacation spots is pretty limited."

Carol's lips seem to be trapped in a permanent smirk - the corner always tilted up in vaguely hidden amusement. Even now. Her snark never stops. You feel your own anger dissipate as quick as it came. There was no point being angry with her. She loved it. Fed off it like a parasite or leech.

"It's almost like you're trying to piss me off."

She places her elbow on the console, leaning forward to shrink the gap between you two.

"Would it make you more angry if I was?"

One time, you and the raccoon had a bet. Whose eyes were more blue: Captain America or Captain Marvel? Like this, you'd have to say Carol. Her eyes had their own halo wrapped around the rim, highlighting the blue and making it fluorescent.

You rub your lips together and lean back in your seat, turning away from her to once again, look at the controls.

The ship breaks down when you reach his planet. You and Carol spend the first ten minutes after landing, arguing back and forth, blaming eachother. The next fifteen, Carol leaves you. Fucks off like a glow stick and searches the planet. When she returns, you haven't moved. Haven't left. You opted instead to lie down in the flowers. It was a beautiful planet. Perfect for retirement. The air was pure, almost light enough to get high in.

"I found his cabin."

"Great." You jump up. The blood rushing to your head and spotting your vision briefly, almost enough to cause you to wobble. "Let's go."

She steps in front of you, quick. You stop just short of bumping into her. Your faces are inches apart. That same infuriating smirk on her lips. Your eyes dart down, down to her chest - she was quite muscular, you could see that even through her clothes- down enough that she has to clear her throat.

"It's too far by foot." When your eyes meet, she's trying to not look smug.

You arch a brow. "Well, we can't fly."

"I'll have to carry you."

You groan.

"Believe me. I'd be more than willing to do anything else."

"Fine. Do it."

You step back and gesture at her to turn around. She rolls her eyes and in a breathe you didn't know you were holding, throws your arm around her shoulders, wraps her arms around your waist, and jumps. You scream. Through the rush of wind, you think you hear her laughing or perhaps, that's a lie and it's you. Laughing hysterically. No. You are screaming. Hitting her chest. And she's laughing. Fuck Natasha. Fuck Steve. When this is over, you're quitting.

When your feet touch the ground, you bend down and kiss it. Pray to it.

"Anyone ever tell you you're dramatic?" She asks.

"Anyone ever teach you about consent?"

"You told me to do it."

"I don't care!"

The two of you spend hours looking for remnants of the stones before you finally give it up and return to the ship. You were careful not to drift too close to his cabin. The Avengers never recovered the body. The rot of Thanos was thick, enough to gag over if you got too close. This planet wasn't used to death, not the harsh meat of Thanos. It had been months and he was still there, newly rotting as if it had been a week or two.

"I'll look again tomorrow before we leave." Carol pops a chip in her mouth, her feet kicked on the co-pilot chair while you lounged on the cot. "For now, you should get your rest."

"Don't you need to sleep, too?"

"I have been." She gestures to the chair.

You stare. Frown. The chairs were nowhere near comfortable.

"We can switch. I'll just take the blanket," you offer reluctantly. The nights here were cold anyways. Much colder than space. You involuntarily shiver.

"I prefer to sleep sitting up."

"Is that a military thing?"

To your surprise, she laughs. "Why?"

You shrug the blanket higher - the thin layer providing little comfort. "Cap likes to do that too."

As the sky gets darker, the cold filters in the cracks of the ship and between the layers of your comforter. You snuggle tighter within yourself, curl your knees up to your chest, burrow your hands underneath your pits. When that doesn't work, you shift again. It was always something. The blanket doesn't cover your feet here. You're uncomfortable there.

"You still up?"

You peek up to glance at Carol. She's leaned back in the chair, her head propped back against the headrest. When you shift, she pops one eye open.

"It's cold," you respond. "Are you cold?"

She shakes her head. "Temperature stops being a concern when you get superpowers like mine."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot you're a glow stick."

She snorts. "You talk a lot of shit for someone whose close to being an icicle."

"Bravado under pressure. It's my best quality."

You think she's gonna retort with another snort, but she stays silent. You make a move to stand, but she stops you.

"It's colder over here. See." She breathes out and you can see the cloud of her breathe. You frown.

"I can't sleep like this."

You think she's gonna do something like procure a blanket or throw you her jacket. You even think she might use her powers to heat the ship. It would make sense. Now, that you thought about it - she could've flew your ship to Thanos's exact location. You open your mouth to say as much, maybe, even yell at her as well, but she surprises you by standing.

Her head tilts to the side. Her mouth opening and closing again as if she's mulling over her next words carefully. If it were brighter, you might say this is the closest to nervous you've ever seen her get.

"I could lay down next to you." You blink. "My body generates a certain amount of heat due to -"

"Your powers. Yeah, I get it."

Slowly, you scoot over in the small cot. There wouldn't be enough room. You'd be touching regardless, but if you didn't turn over, it'd be okay. You could pretend instead of Carol, it was some space heater next to you.

"Come," you order.

You feel her weight in the cot, the warmth of her sinking in and spreading across the fabric. It hasn't even been a minute and already the cold has been dissipated. You could sleep if you wanted to. But, you don't. No matter how much you had wanted to pretend she was just some space heater, she was Carol. She felt stiff like a board and she was unbearably loud in her stiffness, her unwillingness to move.

"You can relax you know," you mumble.

"I sleep on my side."

You wonder now if she's smirking.

"No one's stopping you from doing that."

She moves and you know without looking that she's facing you. Her breathe tickles the hair on the back of your neck. You wouldn't be able to sleep like this. She's thinking so loud that whatever thoughts she's having are sure to interrupt your dreams. You turn over towards her - your faces are a hair apart. She's not smirking. Her lips are parted and her eyebrows raised, her expression torn between surprise and delight.

"You're making it difficult to sleep," you say simply.

"Am I?" She retorts. There it is. She's grinning. "That sounds like a personal problem."

You don't take the bait. "You know why you're making it difficult?"

She shifts her head slightly to imply 'no'.

"You're too far away. I'm still cold," you say.

She arches one brow. "This is too far away for you?"

You nod.

She shifts closer. Close enough that there's no room for you to glance at her lips. There's only her eyes staring into yours.

"This good enough?" She whispers.

"No."

"You're proving difficult to please, Y/N." And you can tell she's trying to be smooth, but right now, you just want her to shut up.

You barely have time to open your mouth to say as much before she's kissing you. Pressing her soft lips to yours, her hand finding its way to your hip and resting there. She tugs you closer to her until your bodies are flush against one another. The soft pecks growing longer. Light sparks from her fingertips, burning the trim of your jacket. She fists it as she presses you into her. Her touch still gentle if demanding.

You pull away slowly to breathe. To catch air. You forget why when your lips stop touching.

"Been wanting to do that for awhile," she says with a smile.

"I didn't know I wanted to do it honestly," you respond because it's true. All you knew was that Carol was infuriating. Still is. Only now you want to kiss her, too.

"Really?" Carol asks. "You didn't know you wanted me?"

"You find that hard to believe?"

"I do," she grins. "You know the raccoon and Groot have a running bet on which one of us would crack first. Groot bet on me."

"Groot lost, then." You mean to kiss her, but she pulls back.

"You're the one who invited me into bed with you."

"Because you offered your services."

"Because you complained about being cold."

You groan, snuggle into her chest so you don't feel the need to respond to her. Thankfully, she stops. Her spare hand strokes your back and slowly, you drift into sleep.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagine #carol danvers #captain marvel

183 notes · View notes

growsagain · 2 years

Note

What's the best way to still be willing to try marbles even though several other people keep bombarding about how dangerous it can be from them colliding with each other and causing cracks and breaking off in tiny pieces?

Ok, first of all, take a deep breath.

this is really important:

if you are less than 100% sure about doing or trying something then please, DON’T DO IT.

especially something where there *is* a risk, no matter how small.

you will not enjoy something that you are scared of all the way through, believe me. Being nervous, that’s fine, that’s understandable, it’s normal. But from your words it sounds like more than nerves so I would say hold off for now.

some facts first of all: marbles *can* crack and chip but it’s actually not that common, particularly not in my personal experience. And when they *do* it tends to be from rough use, flinging marbles at each other in the street as opposed to running a short distances into each other in your stomach. In addition you should check each marble carefully for cracks or flaws before you swallow it because if a marble already has a weakness then obviously that poses more of a risk of it cracking or chipping.

I’ve probably swallowed somewhere in the region of 2000 marbles and around the same number of glass beads and I’ve never seen one crack or chip after it’s made a journey through my digestive system.

the way you say people have been bombarding you with worries about them cracking or breaking makes me wonder how many people you’ve told about it. I think when you talk to anyone who doesn’t have this kink it’s hard for them to wrap their head around the drives we have and they literally see it as ‘you want to eat WHAT??’. That’s why when it comes to kink things it can be really hard to share some of the things we want the most even with people we love. I’m so lucky that Luce makes it easy to open up about things I want to try and has always accepted and encouraged every part of my fetish. I couldn’t imagine though telling some of my closest friends ‘I’m off to swallow some marbles, ciao!’ Because they would think I was crazy!

in short, please never do something you’re not 100% certain about. Trust your vibes. Trust your instincts. You’ll know when you’re ready because other people’s fears will no longer be enough to stop you. And if that day never comes then know you did the right thing. Maybe swallowing marbles just isn’t for you. Or maybe this is a temporary glitch that makes you stop and think for a few weeks and realise that this is absolutely something you want to do.

Either way, good luck and feel free to drop back if you need to talk some more x

#Asks #anon #object vore #Marble swallowing #swallowing marbles

11 notes · View notes

honesthammie · 3 years

Text

Prompt 39: Death wants you to be terrified. But the scariest thing is wanting death.

13th Doctor x female curvy reader

Warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughts, alcohol and drug abuse, domestic abuse, fat phobia

I'm sorry for this. Its really depressing and I've been hesitant on letting you guys see it but I kinda like how it's written. I've made the abuser gender neutral as females can also be abusive. I promise the next one will be much happier!

"Come on (y/n), you can make it! Just jump across and reach for my hand. I promise you won't fall." The Doctors voice echoes across the widening canyon. If you looked down, you would only see pitch black. You didn't know how long you'd fall. Maybe this would be the perfect time to just go for it. Its not like you'd matter, you're only slowing the team down as is.

They wouldn't even be in this mess if you didn't slip and hit the world shattering drill, turning it on full blast. Unfortunately, you smashed the button making it unable to turn it off. Of course the only way you'd be able to turn it off is to actually go towards it. Everyone in the room screamed at you and some raised their tentacles to attack you if the Doctor didn't step in front of you. You know the Doctor noticed you flinching and your eyes gloss over and noticed you bracing for the impact.

You learned over the years to just accept your fate. You can't run from anyone when you weighed this much. You couldn't hide either, which often left you to just accept what was coming and hope nothing broke. Bruises were always easy to cover and so were any cuts but broken bones, that was always on display and you'd have to break your number one rule: never lie. You hated lying. The truth always comes out anyway so why hide it? If you hide it, you get punished worse anyway so why bother?

If you jumped and actually went with the team, you'd get questioned about earlier and about hesitating at jumping. But if you fell, would the Doctor miss you? As much as you hated to admit it, you were absolutely in love with the adorable alien. Why did you hate to admit it? Because she was a goddess and you were a waste of skin and bones. You weren't skinny and you didn't fit in with the team at all. You were only here out of pity.

You remember when you first met the team. You were the only person alive when they searched underneath the hotel. Even the spiders didn't want you. You were at the hotel because you heard about killer spiders and you wanted an out. You could never do it or something would come up stopping you from ending all your misery. You were the complete opposite of the Doctor. She was so brave and said whatever she wanted and didn't really care for the consequences.

You focused on the Doctors sparkling eyes. Despite the situation, she still sparkled with hope and encouragement. She wasn't upset with you. You really wished she was. This would be such an easier decision to make. Your head was pounding and your heart was going faster than her two hearts. Did you even want her upset? You couldn't tell, your head was spinning wildly, one thought going to another without a chance to process the last one.

You had come to a clear decision. You ran back and let momentum do its thing as your feet left the muddy gravel. You felt so free as you glided in the air for a few seconds. It was the most beautiful feeling. No punishment, no tears before going to sleep and no terror of going back home. Just you and gravity.

Then with a clearer mind you regretted your choice. You were horrified. You weren't ready. It wasn't time yet. Graham can't lose you. He'd only recently lost his wife. He'd feel the same as you and that thought terrified you. He'd survived cancer and gained himself a new family. He can't be like you. Ryan needed him, wether he was willing to admit that or not.

Suddenly you panicked and last minute reached your hand out hoping you'd grab something. Anything. You felt a soft warm object and latched on for dear life. You were then lifted up and onto soil. You focused on your breathing a moment and waited for your heart to calm down. You looked up and saw what, or rather who, saved you. You shouldn't have been so surprised to see the Doctors worried face above yours. She gave you a questioning look, knowing the question, you nodded your head and she straightened herself and helped you up.

"That was great (n/n)! So brave of you! Let's go gang, we've gotta turn this drill off before it splits the planet in half!" She shouted as she ran forward, seemingly knowing the way. She didn't let go of your hand until you reached the drill about 10 minutes later. You couldn't help the blushthat formed on your cheeks. The Doctor quickly opened a panel on the side of the drill.

The drill was massive, bigger than the Eiffel Tower and that what was on surface level, it went down much deeper that it had reached halfway to the liquid nitrogen that ran in this cold planet where our magma centre would be. The drill itself was purple and spherical. The panel box was the size of a human head which was about the size of the civilisations sucker pads. Inside were 3 buttons and 1 lever. You needed to type the pattern that would gain the access to the drill and force stop. If it goes wrong, it speeds up rendering this planet uninhabitable.

You watched as the Doctor quickly typed the pattern in. Red,blue,red,red,red,blue,black,black,blue. That was the pattern she quickly pressed in and held the lever down for 10 seconds. Soon the drill came to a halt and the planet was peaceful once again. You all let out a sigh of relief as it stopped.

You made your way back to the chief of the race and explained that they should dismantle and never use that drill again unless they plan to empty the panet of everything it has within. He quickly agreed and the fam made their way back to the TARDIS.

As soon as tye TARDIS was parked on the edge of your solar system, you got into your comfy clothes ready to nap or maybe play a few games to slow your adrenaline until you were tired enough for a full nights rest. You played a few rounds of uno and some poker where you used some bits of metal instead of chips. Eventually everyone had left except you and the Doctor.

You made your way to the doors of the ship and settled down just watching the stars in front of you. If the sentient machine hadn't already been aware of your darkest thought, you would have jumped out there and been amongst them. Just floating eventually turning to nothing but bones drifting, maybe to never be found. All the sights you've seen and yet this is where you were the most impressed. This was your home, your galaxy and because of all the light pollution, you had never been fully aware of how many neighbours you had because you had been literally blind. This was only stuff captured and faked and now, it's forever in your mind.

You heard movement and a shuffle next you. You knew who it was because she was the only other person awake and you knew she was going to ask and not let it drop until you tell her truth. And you were going to give her it but that doesn't mean you were ready to do so but you had to, someone had to know. Maybe you wanted help or maybe just someone to listen and know everything making you mentally naked in front of them.

The Doctor waited a few moments. She was figuring out how to word it without sounding horrible. "Is everything alright at home?" She asked her voice laced with genuine concern. "Sorry if this sounds a bit abrupt but let me explain. You've been really weird lately. You hardly speak and when you its with as few words as possible, you keep going elsewhere mentally and Rassilion forbid anyone getting angry with you! I also noticed how you hesitated today when jumping and I saw your worry and panic when you jumped. I think I know but I can't help you if you don't at least tell me what is going on! And don't change the subject or anything, just answer me please. I lo-. I can't lose you too." Her voice raised a little as she panicked just speaking about it. Halfway through she grabbed both of your hands and continued her speech.

You looked deep into her eyes for any sign of a lie but there wasn't one. Just like at the canyon, her eyes showed nothing but love. Maybe you should tell her, just her. No Yaz, no Graham and no Ryan. Just you, The Doctor and the TARDIS. You looked away for a moment as you collected your thoughts. However, as you opened your mouth and tried to speak, you found no voice. You couldn't tell her about them. Lord knows what she's capable of. But you've been looking for an out for so damn long. Maybe this is it. She's your out, no death involved.

You walked towards a panel in the console and pushed your hands inside and focused. You focused on the worst time it happened. You concentrated on the fear and everything attached. You couldn't tell her, but you could show her. The TARDIS disappeared into the vortex but didn't seem so sure on landing. She was picking it all up, she felt everything you did and she did not like going. "Please baby girl, I need her to know. I need help but I can't tell her. She's my only out that doesn't involve death and that terrifies me! Please. I understand your hesitation but she needs to see." You spoke mentally to the sentient blue box. She made a sad sound as she gently landed in the moment.

The Doctor looked at you bewildered. Her eyes were wide and her mouth agape. You walked up to her and grabbed her hand reassuringly. You led her to the doors that separated her from your darkest secret. You took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.

You appeared to be in the basement of your house. You walked up the stairs and took her to a storage room where she could see it happen. You sat in silence for a few minutes only the sounds of breathing and your heartbeat could be heard.

You knew this day off by heart, it plagued your nightmares often. It all started to sweet and went sour so quickly. At this time you were currently on your way back from doing your weekly shop to Tescos making sure you didn't forget their vodka and gin on your way to pay. Thankfully, the shop was only 10 minuets away and you doubted that the TARDIS would make you wait longer than nessacary. Just as the Doctor opened her mouth to speak the door opened and in walked an 18 year old you.

You set the bags down and started sorting the items into their new places. The canned foods go in the cupboard and the meat goes into the fridge. There were loads of food and stuff to go through and place properly. After you placed the last can of baked beans into the cupboard, the door swung open, nearly breaking the door.

They came home from their dealers place early. They stunk of weed and alcohol and had a little white powder around their nose. They looked like they had a good time until they had to come home. It was their dealers birthday so he was having a brothel themed party meaning there were strippers, pole dancers and prostitutes as well. The dealer was a rich guy who practically ran this city. The cops couldn't do anything as he could always bail himself out of jail.

They looked you in your comfy clothes and scoffed. They looked angry. "Why aren't you in your normal clothes babes? I thought I told you to throw away all of that shit. Come on now. Don't tell me I wasted all my well earned money on those clothes I specifically chose for you?"

You shuddered, both in the past and now except now they only made bile rise into your throat. You were so young and vulnerable. Now you know better.

The past you quickly scampered off to get changed. After only 5 minutes you reappeared in what was sexy school girl. The blue miniskirt covered less than most underwear so you were forced to wear a thong. The shirt was a bralet that barely covered your nipples. Your hair was in pigtails and you wore thigh highs. The sight made you silently sick in your mouth. You looked pathetic and weak.

You looked at them expectingly. You were waiting for your next order from them. They seemed to drool at the sight of you. "That's better babes. Why didn't you go shopping like that? Show the world your fat ugly figure? I want you to walk out there and see that no one else wants you but here I am, loving you. I am the only one who will ever like you in the way we have now. Your lucky I've had some fun tonight. All I want is my vodka and a new blunt darling"

You quickly went and grabbed their stuff and walked towards them as they settled in front of the TV. They turned the TV on and put Love Island on. How you hated that show. It made you feel bad for being the size you are. The women on there were beautiful but you also knew that, that kind of beauty costs money. So while your partner had fun watching the show for the romance, you watched it to spot what part of them was bought and what was real. Almost all the women had fake teeth and breasts. You hated how your partner would make snide comments on how they looked compared to you.

"You should be looking like Becky ya know. Beautiful teeth, big perky tits and a fucking great ass. What do you have? Flabs!" And there was the first comment of the day. The first of 30, you counted.

"Yeah well you are fucking broke so I can't look like fucking fake ass Becky or the others!" You thought. Then the Doctor gave you a look of shock and pity and then you realised you said that aloud. Not loud enough for them to hear you but enough for the Doctor.

"Make yourself fucking useful and make me some dinner. I fancy a steak and chips." They ordered as you got up and waddled over to the kitchen. A few minutes in you realised you put too much oil in the pan for the steak but the steak was already in and cooking quick. So quick that it started to smoke just a little bit. You tried blowing it away from them before they realised that you fucked up their dinner but ut was too late. They were already on their feet a marching towards you.

"I'm so sorry. I accidentally poured too much oil in. I'm so sorry. I have a spare steak, you can have my meal for tonight, I could do with skipping a meal anyways, helps me lose weight!" Past you was panicked and present you wasn't much better. Even though you were safe from them, they still made you uneasy. If you were to ever see them again, you'd freeze. They made your blood run cold. Even their voice sent unpleasant shivers down your spine.

"You better make me another steak but I still have to punish you. You fucked up, a lesson needs to be learnt." They said scarily politely. They grabbed your left arm and marched you towards the sink. They also grabbed the burning pan and pinned you so you had no escape as they poured the boiling oil onto your skin. You knew not to scream do you bit into your other arm knowing a bite out of it is better than causing more punishments for screaming.

When they were done left to watch the TV and you knew what that meant. You had to cook the spare steak and make there meal before you can get proper treatment at the hospital. Through your tears of agony, you quickly ran your burnt and bleeding arm under the cold water of the sink. You bit deeper into your other arm and tasting blood, but thay didn't stop you until the left one had cooled down. Then you got an old shirt, ripped 2 pieces of fabric off and wrapped them around both arm Injuries. You then continued their meal.

Once they had the meal they kicked you and punched you in the stomach because the chips were slightly cold and then they drove you to the hospital as they promised. When you had left you didn't realise you had been crying until a drop fell on your arm. You walked out of the storage room and sat on the sofa, turning the TV off.

The Doctor looked shocked for a moment before walking over and kneeling in front of you. The Doctor went silent for a moment. Before she could speak, you decided to speak first.

"I couldn't tell you because I couldn't think if a nice way of telling you. I didn't want to appear weak to you." You cried as your voice cracked in the middle due to the tears and the strain. The Doctor looked at you in pity and disappointment.

"This does not make you weak. Being abused does not make you weak. Because being abused is like being tortured by someone who supposed to love you and cherish you. They are meant to protect you from danger not be the danger. I would never hurt you. I know that I put you in risky situations but believe me, I would never intentionally put you in danger. You mean too much to me" The Doctor softly spoke with tears making a little river down her soft cheeks and onto your black carpet below.

"Before I met them, I was like you or Yaz. I was so happy at everything. Very little could bring me down. But I met them and started dating them and suddenly, my world of sunshine faded to grey. There was no light. I wanted to die Doctor. When you found me at that spider hotel, I wanted to be free from them as I couldn't do it. I can't because they'd kill me. I don't want to be alive whilst I'm with them. I have so many scars from either them or me trying to end my own life and that the scariest thing. Death wants us to be terrified but wanting to die is so much more terrifying Doctor, I know that." You cried as you emptied all you could to her. The Doctor was silent for a moment, taking in everything you said. Waves of emotion flashed through her, anger, sadness, pity and something you couldn't quite place.

"You said wanted. That's past tense. You said wanted to die. What changed? What made you want to live?"

"You did. You saved me from the spiders. You gave me a temporary out of the relationship for a while. You made me smile for the first time in 3 years! You made me laugh. The world of grey is now full of sunshine and rainbows Doctor. You also saved me today. When I jumped across that canyon, I jumped to end my life. I made a mistake that nearly ended a planet! If I wasn't so fat and clumsy maybe i-"

"Don't you dare say that! You are not fat (n/n). Yes you have more plush to your body but you are not fat. I hate that word. Its such a nasty word. You are gorgeous, amazing and so brilliant. You can't see what I see and I really wished you could for just one moment. You are worthy of being loved and cared for. You are precious, rare, one of a kind. I've never met anyone like you. There's always some skinny, fake bodied and caked up women but there's no one with as much natural beauty as you! Let's get back to the TARDIS and we'll talk more when looking at the stars because I can see that being here isn't doing you any favours" The Doctor spoke with such passion that you started to believe that her words held more than those of a supporting friend would.

Once the TARDIS was parked in the Milky Way you settled by the door once again and found yourself accompanied by the sweet alien. You both sat there for a moment just content with wrapping your heads around what's just happened. You looked over to the blonde and noticed how the stars made her glow in such an ethereal way that you felt almost compelled to worship her. Maybe you should after everything she's done for you. Her eyes sparkled with si many emotions from the past senario.

"Are you still with them?"

"Why do you think I never left this place? I mean even if could, I wouldn't want to but it's mainly because if I go back home, I'll come back with more injuries. I feel safer with you. You are my sunshine and rainbows and they are my storm clouds. Whilst I'm here, I'm alive and mostly unbroken. Whilst I'm there, I'm as alive as a puppet and severely broken. I can't leave, not on my own anyway."

The Doctor looked at you in thought. "The starlight compliments you. You look so pretty and almost angelic. I just wish they never hurt my angel. My innocent angel had broken wings and I'm going to fix what the Devil broke, I promise. Just hold on, I'm going to take us somewhere."

You held the nearest crystal as the TARDIS transported you somewhere but it seemed like the sentient machine was determined to take you there as quick as she could. As you opened the doors you noticed a familiar smell of weed mixed with alcohol. You heard the familiar tune of Love Island and knew exactly where you were. You were home. The Doctor saw your hesitation and whispered softly, "I want you to pack everything you want. I've written a note for them to find. I'm going to put it on the bed. If they notice you scream for me and I'll be there. They will not hurt you much, hopefully not at all. I just need to do something in the TARDIS before I help you." She turned and left into the TARDIS and disappeared down a corridor.

The atmosphere sent chills down your spine and you were frozen. The TARDIS seemed to notice and words of encouragement were sent into your head which helped you move towards your bedroom. You quickly buy quietly opend your suitcase and started to fill it with clothing and hygiene products. As you entered the bathroom a bottle of their shampoo fell into the tub giving you away. You knew you only had so long before they came in and hurt you so you closed the door and barricaded it with whatever you could.

As you pushed the last cabinet to the pile they roared through the wooden door. "Let me in you fat dumb bitch. You've been gone for 3 weeks and you've got some balls coming back! You're lucky I haven't burned all your shit! Where have you been?"

Your heart ran at an extremely fast pace nd you knew only one person could help you now. And so you screamed her name so loud it hurt your throat bit that didn't stop you. You screamed until you heard talking. You couldn't understand what was said but suddenly a thud was heard and then silence.

"Hey Starlight! It's only me. I've taken care of them. They're not dead but in a venishion aikido. They can't move, they're paralysed. You can come out and finish packing"

You moved everything out of the door and opened it to a view you expected. The Doctor with 2 fingers to their pulse point on their neck. The Doctor smiled at when they saw you. You finished packing and zipped the bag up. Then Yaz walked in with her police uniform on and arrested them for domestic violence and many other things. Now you understood why The Doctor left, it was to get Yaz as a back up option to completely take them out of your life.

The Doctor helped open doors for you as you got your room and you set the suitcase to one side to empty another day. You both sat down on your bed. The sound was filled with nothing but 2 lifeforms breathing and the TARDIS faint buzzing. You two stayed like this, staring into each other, trying to read the others emotions. But we all know what The Doctor is like, she can't stay silent for long.

"I had to save you because as long as you were with them, you weren't ever going to be truly happy. I didn't want my big bright star to turn into a black hole, I wanted her to be a supernova. My Starlight deserves to be happy."

"You keep saying my Doctor. And you asked if I was still with them and then when I basically said yes, you quickly, as in a rush, sent us home so I could leave them. You keep saying all these things about me. You held my hand from the canyon to the drill. You are always the first to check on me and you always make sure I'm OK first even if I'm the farthest person from you! Doctor, be honest, I don't want any more bullshit. Doctor why?" You spoke softly but with determination. The Doctor blushed and shifted her gaze to the stars and quietly gulped. She knew this day would come. The day her secret was revealed. And she dreaded her answer and she dreaded your reaction. And whilst she figured out what to say, you already knew the answer.

You gently grabbed her chin and made her look at you. Once her gaze caught yours, you smiled and placed your lips to her soft ones. Quickly she caught up and kissed you back with all the love and passion she could muster. She wanted to relay that she did love you and that she would do exactly as she said earlier, she would cherish you.

As for you, you smiled. You finally had an out that didn't end in death but instead ended with the same love that you yearned for, for years.

#13th doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #depressing post #im sorry

30 notes · View notes