#ugh my head spins. i could say a lot. its just a matter of if its worth it. ive been thinking a lot. for years now. still much too late

[balsamfir-fics]

man, machine, and misadventures (M)

Genres: fluff, crack, romance, comedy, lots of science, some fun trivia, implied smut and spicy themes (minors DNI), general nerdery, idiots in love, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers. modern AU in our world, in which jayvik are postdocs at MIT and LoL species coexist with humans. jayvik besties, jaymel. yes we troll his science goggles.

Summary: When Hextech's success brings you back into your childhood friends' lives and workplace, it's hard not to fall for your drinking buddy and lab partner, Viktor. Everyone else seems to be doing it despite the man's obliviousness, so Jayce and Mel start taking bets on whether you or Viktor will ever figure it out.

Warnings: implied smut and spicy themes; some kinky jokes about devices

Word Count: ~8.5k

A/N: I poked at some disparate comedy scenes set in a modern AU and this was the result. It’s very very nerdy and very science-y, but I had fun writing it. Please come say hi if you liked it and would like to see more!

“Viktor, for the love of God, PLEASE don’t try to add Bluetooth to your LEG,” you protest, throwing a half-size pencil at his desk. He ducks it expertly, long used to your attacks, but when you throw one of your chewed-up Bic pens, his stupid cybernetic arm grabs it in mid-air. Jayce lets out a loud, frat-like whistle that dies on his lips when you shoot daggers at him with a piercing gaze. Viktor merely sniffs. “I wasn’t going to add it to my leg,” he sighs, exasperated. “But there’s something to be said about not having to code my own device drivers just to have the ability to connect with third-party devices.” You groan, slumping further into your ergonomic chair and nearly falling backward as it tilts to support your wait. Jayce, you can tell, is trying his best to suppress his laughter at your plight. (You’ll find the time to kill him later). “Why? Just… why do you even want to hook yourself up to other idiots’ untested code? There are so many things that could go wrong.” “But so many things that could go right,” Jayce insists, then snickers. He gets up from his seat, stretches leisurely, then picks up his thermos before heading for the door. “Think about it. He could control his partner’s vibrator using his own hardware.” This time, it’s Viktor who actually chucks his under-desk trash can at Jayce’ head, but your third collaborator is out the door and zooming off to the campus Starbucks before the wastebasket even hits the door. “Ugh. Gross.” You spin back around to expertly hunch at your desk, eyes trying to focus on the paper you were reading instead of letting your mind wander into ‘what are Viktor’s kinks’ territory. But you sneak a look at him nonetheless, surprised to see the tips of his ears going slightly pink. “Oh my god,” you gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth and pointing at him, finger accusatory. “You’ve actually considered that!” “As a thought experiment!” Viktor hisses, dropping his head into his hands and running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “To weigh the consequences of cybernetic connectivity to a variety of third-party devices, like blood pressure monitors or security cameras and the like. Different device types and different functions.” “A vibrator, though?” You’d laugh if the subject matter weren’t so outrageously out-of-left-field for a regular lab discussion. Viktor sniffs. “All manners of smart devices are, in fact, available on the market. And even without the leg, my second to last ex seemed to quite enjoy the benefits of such near-field technologies…” He stops only when you march over to his desk and clap a hand over his mouth, before deciding to remove your hand and lift your palms over your ears instead. “No. Gross. Stop, I don’t want to hear anymore – holy Cheez-its, what the heck is wrong with you two?” You head back to your desk, but not to sit. You scramble to pack away your laptop and unplug all of your cables; perhaps it’s better to finish up your readings at home instead. Shrugging, Viktor leans back and rests his heels on his desk. “Don’t ask me, Jayce started it.” Letting out a grunt of displeasure, you hoist your backpack onto your shoulder and follow Jayce’s beeline for the door. “You two,” you pause, turning back to look at Viktor. “... are the worst.” Viktor merely rolls his eyes. Then he corrects his posture, bringing down his legs and scooting his chair into his desk – he begins to squint at the code on one of his monitors. “You love us,” he says, not bothering to look up. You hate that he’s right. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It all started almost a decade ago, when Viktor had still had a leg brace and you still had tooth-braces (and both men were still the same height as you). You were kids, nerds in your high school's engineering club together; you one of the unfortunately few women (though it seemed, through the alumni newsletter, that things were doing much better in this department ever since). The two boys wanted to create a robotics offshoot of the club and needed a third member; their idea seemed fun, so you impulsively joined as a fellow founder. For the entirety of junior year, the club only consisted of you three, but by senior year a few curious students signed on and helped build out what would eventually become one of the world’s best teams (though not exactly during your tenure; the team won awards in recent years after Viktor returned as an external coach). The club had been started for fun and games – literally so, because half of the robots exploded in competition, and the other half did incredibly well; these latter robots took your little team to state championship success beyond the three of your wildest dreams. Then it all came to an abrupt halt as you elected to go to college overseas, while the duo went to MIT. You emailed and Facebooked, of course, and saw each other on holiday, but it wasn’t quite the same. It wasn’t your favorite, having to learn about their research through Google Scholar updates or in text-only chat, but the boys did their best to keep you in the loop as they progressed into their PhD programs and their Yordle advisor helped them harness a mysterious mineral’s physics-breaking properties to build Hextech – a technology most deemed to be near-magical. They ushered in a new industrial revolution by making heavy machinery portable, with less dependency on fossil fuels. (Viktor liked to refer to this as some sort of ‘glorious evolution’ for the next era of human-machine interaction, but for the most part neither you nor Jayce paid this description any mind — though it did become somewhat of a catchphrase among your group chat). Magazine after magazine was plastered with their faces (you hated seeing these; your best friends’ grinning faces leered at you from the magazine covers, their backs pressing against the other’s with their arms crossed in front). YouTube was filled with their interviews, many of which involved edits of Jayce’ best gala outfits (for some reason – supposedly being conventionally uber-handsome only added to his scientist’s mystique), or interviews with Viktor as the world’s first cybernetic dual-limb transplantee (these infuriated you more when the two men admitted that Viktor’s ailing health led to a brush with death, before Boston Dynamics worked with Viktor to develop his new arm and leg with Hextech – the two hadn’t remembered, somehow, to tell you that Viktor was nearly dying while you were thousands of miles away). When they told you that they were planning to stay at MIT to help run the Hex Technologies-funded Heimerdinger Lab after their theses were handed in and successfully defended, you applied to the lab at once to help with medical technology research (conveniently, you’d also applied to medical residencies in the area). You’d given a fake name so to avoid an air of nepotism, and when you arrived at the lab’s office space door for your first day on the job, you’d been looked at as if you were a ghost – until you kicked Jayce (lightly) in the shin to assure him that you were real, and revealed your pseudonym to them both. It had been comforting, then, to know that both of your best friends loved your application despite you being deceptive about your background (opting for voice-only interviews and pretending you had been your own classmate when the school’s name and work experiences seemed to Viktor and Jayce to be eerily close to yours). It was less comforting, now, to have worked with them for nearly a year. Learning about their accomplishments from afar made you imagine a well-oiled machine; scientifically rigorous processes and technically perfect methods. Instead, you were faced with the reality of their scientific protocol: passion over order (there was a minimum level of organization, of course, for compliance purposes, but for the most part, Viktor and Jayce’ experiments were dangerous and unconventional). And yet, somehow, it all worked, eventually.   They hadn’t really grown up, not by much – though it would look that way to an outsider, magazine reader, or someone who met them recently. But you were grateful for their candor and camaraderie, and despite their mischief, you were glad to be back in their company. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “A pitcher sounds like a really, really bad idea.” Viktor sniffs. “I can take my alcohol, you know.” You glance around the dive bar, observing the sheer volume of the absurdly cheap pitchers of beer. With tentative fingers, you lift the one in front of the random person sitting next to you (they object, but you quickly explain it’s just an experiment); the pitcher is heavy and slightly adhered to the rather sticky wood countertop, and you’re not even sure you could finish a sixth of the pitcher by yourself. “Yeah, but how big is your stomach? Factoring in carbonation?” You lean back, fingers drumming against the bar, and give Viktor a thorough up-and-down scan with your eyes, making sure to level a gaze directly at his (full) stomach. “After eating a burger as big as your heard, with that skinny frame?” He pales a little at that, and orders a single pint instead. You shoot him a grin in triumph, and his heart seizes a little at the sight — then you order your own pint of fancy local small-batch-brewed blah-blah-blah. As the nonplussed bartender plops down two foaming, sloshing glasses of beer on the counter, your hands quickly dart out to your own, pulling your glass to your lips hurriedly so you can slurp up the foamy head before any more spills over. Something familiar and yet long-forgotten stirs in Viktor’s stomach… Butterflies, perhaps? But he swallows down the thought as his cybernetic arm drops a few crisp bills onto the counter and some ones into a nearby highball glass for a tip. You never paid for these pints; Viktor’d spot your weekly Bar Trivia Night drinks until you both grew old, if you’d let him. He feels his mind clearing its metaphorical throat as he catches himself and amends, if you were still in each other’s lives when you were old, that is. He doesn’t exactly know why that specific wish pops into his head right at this second, in the next beat you’re dragging him off to your usual corner table (so that no competitors could peer over your shoulders for answers) as the host calls the bar to attention. Huddled together, you furiously debate your responses and scribble down answers, with Viktor getting up more often to deposit your slips of paper at the host’s stand (you think he likes showing off his robot-leg-enabled athleticism; it seems to never have gotten old for him). As happens most weeks, you sweep the competition by a long margin. It wasn’t always like this; the first few times you’d taken Viktor to bar trivia nights, he’d been so abysmally uneducated in esoteric minutiae that your team had been consistently last place for months. But the longer things went on, Viktor’s competitive streak kicked in, and your team rose through the ranks to become (mostly) undefeated champions, winning bragging rights week after week. It was all worth the initial embarrassment of not knowing all the names of the Friends, Viktor thinks now as he fondly watches you bite absently at the end of a likely unhygienic golf pencil, if it meant getting to see your face light up with every correct answer. Wait, what? What was that thought? Feeling his gaunt cheeks heating up, Viktor clears his throat (aloud, this time) and chugs the rest of his pint. You look up, giving him a curious expression, and the way your eyes shine in enthusiasm and open affection  makes that weird sensation in his stomach return again. “I’m gonna get that pitcher after all,” he announces, and you wave him off , completely distracted by this tough round of bonus questions. He returns with the heavy glass in his robotic hand, tops off your glass, then refills his own. This second glass is downed as quickly as the first, before Viktor leans back towards you to share brainpower. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When a gleeful kid runs straight into your legs at a ‘Faculty and Family Barbecue’ event one sweltering campus summer, you don’t think much of it. You certainly don’t expect it to lead to a drunk Viktor telling you some of his best-kept secrets in the dark of your apartment later that evening, snuggling into your couch as he nurses a mugful of cold water and you throw him a bottle of ibuprofen. And you definitely don’t expect the secret to be the fact the chemistry professor to whom the child belonged used to be Viktor’s ex — much less a serious one. “I almost proposed to them, you know. Can you believe it? Me, almost engaged!” Viktor’s voice is nonchalant as he takes another sip from his glass, and you almost don’t catch the gravity of his words because he’s so blase about it. Just seconds before, you’d been reminiscing about fun stories from your childhood, goading each other on to then reveal sexcapades from the past, and otherwise giggling over science mishaps like the nerds you’d always been together. Such mishaps, of course, included “the time that Jayce burned off his eyebrows in an experiment gone wrong and walked around with poorly-drawn auntie-brows for a month” and “the adversarial relationship our robotics team had with the cybersecurity club in high school, when they hacked our prize robot to pants the engineering professor during class and we got in a ton of trouble.” You blink in the dark, only the flickering light of a nearly-drained candle on your coffee table illuminating your faces.“Excuse me, what? Why didn’t you tell me? And to who?” This was huge! A million questions surge into your brain, but as Viktor takes in a short breath you hold back, wondering if he might divulge everything himself. “Yeah…” He exhales heavily. “It was during our master’s; Jayce was actually supposed to attend the fundraising benefit dinner for Hextech and give a small speech, but he’d gotten completely trashed with Mel the night before and was too hungover to execute. Heimerdinger made me go instead, and the speech went as fine as it could have. I met them right after I nearly toppled off the stage; it’d been one of my first few appearances after the transplants and walking was still weird to me. We hit it off at once. They were everything I was not, and I re-learned a lot about the world through them. Learned a lot about chemistry, too, which has been particularly helpful for the nanobot medication delivery system I’ve been working on lately.” Your mind sifts through memories and chat messages as you try to think about who Viktor had been dating at the time. This had to have been several years ago, when you were taking your post-undergrad gap year to volunteer overseas before applying to med school. You vaguely remember Jayce teasing Viktor about someone serious in the group chat, but you’d been several timezones away and the chat wasn’t active that often. “What happened?” You lick experimentally at a bit of foam on the rim of your mug; you’d elected to fashion yourself an automated cappuccino to help take the edge off of all the wine you’d had a few hours earlier. Viktor’s eyes focus on the movement of your tongue, realizing in that moment just how comfortable you were in his presence — and vice versa. He sighs. “They wanted a family, and they wanted one soon while they were pursuing tenure. I… wasn’t ready. I wanted one, sure, but with what money? I wasn’t making any, and neither were they. They wanted me to cash in my Hextech shares and leave the startup – leave my research – for a more stable job.” This sounds more familiar. You remember Viktor agonizing over whether to quit (though he hadn’t explained his reasons why at the time), and Jayce being supportive on paper, but quite agitated in a private DM with you. It’s hard to recall what you actually said to Viktor at the time, but it’s Viktor now who provides this context. “I think I called you for the first time in months then, but it was weird because I hadn’t told you about them before and still didn’t feel comfortable mentioning them to you then. I’m not really sure why; I think maybe I was worried that you might not have approved of them; I thought you’d have liked them but somehow I thought you’d have been disappointed that I’d been seeing a faculty member while I was a student — never mind that we were in different departments, though I’m grateful for that, at least. Looking back now, I don’t think we would have been a good long-term fit, but I was young and liked the idea of providing for them, of being their world. And they made it seem that way. It was addicting to be someone’s hero – to hold the answers to their questions in the palm of your hands. And yet I wasn’t ready to give them that answer, to become a dad and leave the instability of Hextech behind. Or to leave research behind, for that matter, especially when they were unwilling to do so themselves. I’d worked so hard to get here despite my upbringing and constant medical issues; I wasn’t sure if I could give that all up.” It clicks for you now. It’d been a very strange, out-of-the-blue call, with Viktor being cryptic about things like ‘being true to oneself’ or the ‘necessary sacrifices for a desirable life.’ He’d asked for advice in an oblique, roundabout way, but without truly understanding his circumstances, you did the best you could with generic suggestions. Viktor continues. “You told me something I’ll never forget.” “I did?” He nods. “I asked you what you would sacrifice your future for, and you said ‘only something or someone that would do the same for me.’ The next day, I had a lengthy conversation with my ex that resulted in me returning the ring to the jeweler within a week. They didn’t want to change their lifestyle or give up their tenure-track position to support me continuing with my research part-time, or to support a growing family on a budget far more modest than me selling my stake in Hextech. I had known what you told me for some time, but I needed to hear it from someone else with no knowledge of my situation.” Viktor takes another sip of his warming beer. “Thank you for that.” He turns to you now, smile warm, and reaches out with his cybernetic arm to give your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. You glance at the arm, remembering that it has the capability of shooting high-precision lasers out of it, but otherwise pay it no mind. “Anytime,” you manage to eke out, mind still whirling from the knowledge that Viktor had almost gotten married (and that you’d apparently prevented him from doing so). That explained the weird tension you’d felt radiating off of Viktor when the faculty member’s kid bumped into you at the barbecue, and the even stranger interaction when the faculty member and their partner apologized on their kid’s behalf. The exchange had been civil and polite, with no animosity, but you’d sensed some mild discomfort and an awkwardness borne from a complicated history. You lean back into the cushions, silenced by the gravity of Viktor’s decision making process, and from the relative shock of knowing that a close friend of yours had been nearly ready to upend their life for another. You wrack your brains to think about who you’d sacrifice your future for; after all, it had been your own advice to him. Something sinks in your stomach as you realize that the pool of potential individuals was rather small. Before you can assemble an ordered list in your mind, you shake the thought away, though a part of you suspects that if you did end up writing it down, Viktor would be somewhere near the top. As a friend, of course. Jayce was in that pool, too, and so was Mel. Just friends; just friends you cared deeply about. The candle blows out as a summer breeze carries into your living room, plunging you and Viktor into darkness. He merely lifts his hand, popping out a miniature LED device from his palm (gross) and placing it onto the table. He all but beams at you, though the light casts spooky shadows across his angular features, and you can’t help but laugh. “What is it?” He raises a thick eyebrow at you over the rim of his mug (naturally, you’d given him the novelty mug he mailed to you when you finished med school that read “trust me, I’m a doctor,” because he got a kick out of his Ph.D. title being misinterpreted for the life-saving kind of doctor. “I can’t believe you rigged your transplanted limbs to have detachables,” you scoff. “Good thing you’re not a dad; you’d be disassembled like a pile of Legos, waiting to be stepped on.” Viktor snorts, then gets up to fashion himself a mug of tea now that he’s a little more hydrated and sober. “You’re probably right about that,” he muses. But as he waits for the water to boil, his mind flashes to an image of a kid who looks vaguely like you, face scrunched up in pain as the kid hops away from a stash of Viktor’s spare parts strewn all over a colorful playmat. Thoughts drifting, he stirs the teabag into hot water before lifting the mug to his lips. Sure, he’d balked at the idea of having a kid and giving up his career back then, but now? The idea of a family didn’t sound as bad as it used to, perhaps because he’d achieved what he set out to do. Wait. Why did this imaginary child look like you? “Ow!” Viktor yelps from your kitchen; you leap to your knees on the couch to peer over at him. “What’s wrong? What happened?” “Nothing,” Viktor scowls, padding back into the living room and (carefully) dumping himself back onto your sofa. “Probably burned my lip on hot tea, but such is life.” You give him a quizzical look in the thin rays of LED light. “Wow. You’re probably the first cyborg I’ve met who’s ever done something that stupid,” you lilt. “I’m the only cyborg you know,” Viktor rotates his mechanical wrist a full and very disgusting 720-degrees of motion. “Therefore, I’m the smartest cyborg you’ve met.” “And therefore also the dumbest. But I still love you,” you say affectionately. As a friend, you hastily add mentally, hoping that Viktor catches your drift and takes your words casually. He avoids your gaze, watching steam waft from the cooling mug on the coffee table instead. A voice in his mind crafts unspoken questions of his own; as a friend? Or something more? —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “One of the world’s best minds, scrambling to piece together new Hextech applications at the cutting edge of science, and yet you still can’t figure out how to hold office hours over Zoom?” Viktor leans over your shoulder, peering at your screen as you fiddle with the settings in your browser.   You purse your lips at Viktor’s question. You know how to use Zoom, it’s just that they put all the breakout room buttons in all the wrong places and don’t have a great system for holding a queue. Normally, you’d have been holding office hours in-person, but this semester you were teaching on-loan for the medical school you attended, as a favor to your advisor there. The time zone differences between the school and Cambridge were slight, but still enough of a problem for you, it seemed. “Here,” Viktor drops the teasing tone and puts his hand over yours to move your mouse. “Let me help you.” His cybernetic arm effortlessly keeps his piping-hot cup of shitty Starbucks coffee stable and far from you; good thing, too, because you were convinced that he’d tweaked the pain receptor settings in his hardware just so he could hold boiling-hot paper cups without the cardboard sleeve for bragging rights. Jayce watches intently from two desks away, wondering when this will-they-won’t-they thing you’ve got with Viktor will go in one direction or the other. Maybe he’ll ask Prof. Heims if the old codger will take bets. Or maybe he’ll start a betting pool with the PhD students; they were always looking to make a quick buck and for any entertainment that would break the monotony of data analysis. Then Viktor clears his throat. Jayce jumps in his seat, realizing that the two of you are staring at him intently. “What?” Jayce asks. “You were mumbling something about taking bets while staring us down like a serial killer,” you say matter-of-factly. “What’s the wager? I want in!” “As do I,” Viktor intones, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Terrified, Jayce blurts out some random excuse before grabbing his jacket and booking it out of the lab. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to ship his two best friends together; Viktor could be silently threatening enough on his own, and he didn’t need to be ganged up on in a two-versus-one situation. He complains about this to Mel later, while chopping vegetables for dinner, but she only laughs. “It’s only a matter of time,” she grins. “For two geniuses, they’re a little idiotic.” Jayce sags with relief as he passes her a bowl of diced onions. “You think? I’m not off the mark? They won’t kill me or experiment on me for starting a pool?” “Oh, Viktor might still murder you for it, but I think he’ll be pleased with the outcome if they do get together.” Mel raises a spoon to her lips, tasting the sauce she stirs every so often. “And put fifty bucks on them not figuring it out before the next Hextech product launch.” “The next launch isn’t even on the roadmap yet! It’ll take at least another two years before we have a viable prototype.” “Exactly,” Mel smirks, tossing in the onions. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Viktor’s new Science Goggles are absolutely ridiculous. They’re not up-to-grade, for one, because they’ve been painted on and modified with straps of leather and circular cutouts to look like they came straight from a steampunk costume store. With their modifications, they are definitely not kosher for any number of chemical or mechanical tests, and definitely won’t keep his eyes safe from anything except flying bugs and dust particles. Thus the “Science Goggles” euphemism, and not ‘safety goggles.’ “Where in the world did you get those?” Mel asks from where she’s perched in Jayce’ lap. Yes, in the lab. With all the part-time undergrad researchers flitting around. “… They were on my desk when I got in this morning,” Viktor muses, leaning closer to his monitors to stare at a bug in his code. “With a lovely note about the dangers of excessive blue-light exposure, and a short postscript on how good I might look in this kind of fashion. I find that they do help, somewhat, and the eye strain has been considerably less awful today.” You glance at your desk calendar. Ah — October 30th. Someone, it seemed, had given Viktor a Halloween present. A research assistant bumps into your chair, almost sending you spinning; a flurry of apologies rises from one of the undergrads who’s been working on smaller-scale experiments with you and Viktor this semester. It clicks; you thought you noticed furtive glances from this kid to your lab partner, and the guy did have a strangely Victorian-inspired aesthetic about him. “For what it’s worth, Doctor,” the kid says, referring to Viktor (who turns towards the sound without removing the goggles, looking somewhat like a bug with the size of the lenses against his narrow face). “I think you look great in those glasses.” Then he turns pink, spins on his heel, and runs for the machine room with his clipboard tucked tight to his chest. You chuckle, leaning back in your chair with a smirk spreading across your lips. You prop your feet up on your desk, inches away from Viktor’s; he twitches, but since your shoes haven’t touched his desk, he remains silent. Fingers tapping at your phone, you shoot a message to Jayce and Mel.

askyourdoctor: thats a dozen now, you owe me and mel twenty bucks m.medarda: indeed! pay up; i take cash app or venmo, or booty call coupons askyourdoctor: gross, mel… j-ace: ugh this was rigged i swear j-ace: who would have thought viktor would have a baker’s dozen of people crushing on him before the end of the semester? are you sure you two ladies didn’t pay anyone to fall for him m.medarda: that would be a breach of ethical conduct j-ace: ethics? in a private bet on viktor’s oblivious casanova status? askyourdoctor: wait a baker’s dozen = 13 not 12; who’s the 13th?

You glance up at Jayce, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. He swallows thickly, Adams apple bobbing, and Mel locks her phone before jumping off his lap.

askyourdoctor: guys????????

“Hey Four-Eyes, you want any coffee?” Viktor perks up, shoving the Science Goggles to his forehead as he takes off the lid of his new, re-usable coffee mug to peer inside — empty. “Yes, please,” he hands Mel the mug as the couple vacate the lab.

askyourdoctor: guys?? who’s the thirteenth person?!?!

Drumming his fingers on his desk, Viktor ponders taking a small break. Then he leans back, frowning disapprovingly at your feet, before sitting back up to roll his chair over to yours. “Who are you texting so feverishly?” “Nothing,” you yelp, nearly tripping as you jump out of your chair and dash after your coffee-running friends. “Jayce! Mel! Wait up!” Viktor watches the door swing closed behind you three. He tilts his head in confusion, but gives an exasperated sigh before turning back to his code. In usual form, he fails to notice the small gaggle of admiring young researchers peering at his lanky frame through the windows of the mechanics lab. ————————————————————————— It had been nearly four months since you had been enlightened by Jayce and Mel to your status as the first of thirteen of Viktor’s admirers, three months since you admitted to yourself (and the two of them) that they were, in fact, right, and about two months since you’d become jumpily hyperaware around Viktor in the lab. To Viktor’s hurt confusion, it had been the third week you’d bailed on your weekly tradition of shitty bar trivia. Come to think of it, your standing appointment had been a bit odd in the past few months; you’d been more quiet and less invested in winning, and had been drinking less and less during these nights until four weeks ago — the last known trivia night — when you had perhaps a few sips of your gin and tonic before ignoring your drink. He’d tried to corner you at the lab to ask you about it, but you’d been working from home more often or conducting experiments that required solo attendance (for less interference) in the machine room. The data never had any issues, and he was easily able to retrieve files from the shared Google Drive, but it felt like you’d mainly communicated in comment threads, emails, or suggested edits rather than in person. Viktor had the vague sensation he only felt when being broken up with, but that was strange; you weren’t a couple, and you were still at talking to him in some avenues, at least. When he asked Jayce if you weren’t feeling well, the taller man only gave Viktor a cryptic, disappointed look before letting out an annoyed huff of air. Mel hadn’t been much help either, being equally as mysterious when he asked her, too. And much to Viktor’s newfound annoyance, in your absence his desk had been littered with more anonymous (though helpful, and thoughtful) gifts from what he suspected were the group of undergrads that kept attending his office hours armed with questions he knew they already knew the answers to. He knew you had some clinical trials to attend to at the nearby hospital as part of your role and your duties as a resident, so Viktor intended to give you some space in the event that you were overly stressed or overworked by your work — but after receiving three tepid excuses for not making the trivia night he only liked because you seemed to love it so much, his resolve dissipated and his curiosity became too intense to bear.

viktor: have i perhaps done something wrong? viktor: if it’s because we lost last month’s trivia night by a point because i got into a minor disagreement with the host regarding the state of known subatomic particles, i’m sorry i cost us our victory askyourdoctor: that hypothesis is absolutely ridiculous and you know it viktor: then what? i feel like you’re avoiding me. something is definitely different and I have data to prove it, if you’d like me to share my notes with you askyourdoctor: … askyourdoctor: viktor, do you have spreadsheets to keep tabs on your FRIENDS viktor: no. just you, and just recently, because i can’t for the life of me deduce why you’ve been acting so strangely around me viktor: data aside, the result of my analysis is that i miss you, and tonight is trivia night. it’s not too late to go, if you don’t dislike me for whatever reason. i’d like to attend, if only just to see you. we don’t have to try to win

You glance at the corner of your phone screen at the clock readout; he was right, it wasn’t too late for you to make it to the bar from your house. You’d been planning to continue your binge-watch of LOST, which had been a helpful if highly confusing distraction from your feelings, but screw it all. As nervous as you were around him, you missed him, too, and you were beginning to get fed up with the show as well as your teenage-level awkwardness around your longtime friend and — ugh — crush.

askyourdoctor: fine. you’re buying viktor: i’d assumed i would, as per usual

How gallant. But if you were to survive an evening sitting so close to Viktor, heads huddled over novelty questions, you were going to need quite a few drinks. You say a short prayer to anyone who will listen to ‘please bless Viktor’s wallet’ as well as your sanity, before heaving yourself off your couch to get dressed. ————————————————————————— For someone so intelligent and driven, Viktor has an incredibly difficult time staying focused this evening. You pointedly try to keep the conversation centered on trivia responses, shop talk, or general topics, but Viktor infuriatingly perforates every lull with direct interrogations into your mental state — all without missing a beat. “How many moons are currently orbiting Jupiter?” Bleats the host. “79,” Viktor immediately says to you, eyes downcast on your hands as you quickly scribble in the answer on your sheet. The bar erupts with sound as other groups debate among themselves, scurrying to come up with the right answer. “No idea how you knew that before I did,” you mutter under your breath, doodling in the margins. You're usually the trivia master. You brace yourself for Viktor’s follow-up question, something he’s done since the second round. It’s been like this for fifteen minutes; trivia question, rapid-fire response, personal question. You’ve successfully fended off most of them, saved primarily by the pace of incoming trivia tidbits (“Are you sick?” “No.” “Has it been busy at the hospital?” “Mostly.” “Why do you keep working from home instead of coming into the lab?” “Kinda behind on house chores and wanted to save the commute — ah, they’re asking the next question, sshhh!”) As the questions get more and more personal or difficult to answer (things like “are you sure you’re not mad at me?” Or “are you seeing someone?”), you find yourself in need of greater creativity to answer them with lies, and thus you end up about five vodka sodas into a rather early evening. But Viktor’s next question catches you off-guard. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” “God, yes.” The words blurt out of your mouth faster than your brain can remember to filter them, and it’s only when Viktor looks shocked that you realize what you’ve said in your increasingly inebriated state. He fidgets in his seat. The host rattles off another question (“continents shift at the same growth rate as what?”); Viktor takes the paper and pencil from you and scribbles down “fingernails,” only tearing his wide-eyed gaze from you once. “Why?” He asks in the smallest voice you’ve ever heard — your heart tightens in your chest when you detect a tinge of hurt in the word. You let out a frustrated groan; a few people from one table over shoot you either concerned or dirty looks. “Look,” you lean over, world spinning a bit from your rising blood alcohol level. Viktor leans in, eyes still on yours. “Now is not the time or the place to discuss this.” He objects. “Now is the time; it’s been time for over a month now. Though I’ll agree that this isn’t the best place. I just thought it’d be better to suss this out on neutral grounds.” What common animal in North America has no gallbladder? “Deer,” you point at the next line on the answer sheet, glad to beat Viktor to the punch. He obediently scrawls down the letters, but still looks at you expectantly. You squint at his glass of wine; odd choice in a dive bar, but whatever — you try to down the rest of it in an attempt to gain more liquid courage. He yelps, pulling the glass out of your fingers before you can polish it off. “What’s gotten into you?” He hisses, not out of malice but out of concern. Kissing increases most people’s heart rate to over how many beats per minute? “One-hundred,” you’re hiccuping now, and pointedly ignoring his question. Viktor raises an eyebrow. “One-hundred and ten,” he corrects. “My data shows that simple attraction alone can raise the heart rate to over ninety-five b.p.m.; I’d imagine that kissing…” (Are you drunk, or did he just glance down at your lips?) “…should push a heart rate up to over one-ten, at least.” “Whatever you say, Casanova,” you roll your eyes. “I’d consider myself more of the expert in that department.” Your voice turns woeful; you wish could control your heartbeat around Viktor, but no —  it’s an impossibility. Even tonight, after so many weeks of successfully avoiding Viktor and trying to quell your feelings, your heart races just by being near him. He narrows his eyes at you. “What do you mean?” You fix him with an unfocused stare. The trivia host says something, but your brain doesn’t process the words. “I dunno,” you shrug, letting out the words in a sing-song fashion. “Maybe ask Jayce what the number thirteen means.” Yep, you’re drunk. You wave at the trivia host, asking him to repeat the question. He politely reminds you that he can only repeat the question twice, and has done so already, so you curl back into your seat with a pout. Next to you, Viktor taps at his phone at breakneck speed. You try to read what he’s typing out, but it’s a bit hard to see between the drunk goggles you’ve got on and the small font on his screen. The icon at the top of his chats looks familiar, though; it’s the corner of a mouth full of gleaming white teeth. Isn’t that a joke photo you took of Jayce at a long-ago gala during a speech, while giggling conspiratorially with a champagne-infused Viktor? Wait. You feel yourself sobering up instantly. Snatching Viktor’s phone out of his hand, you pull his phone towards you and squint at the screen. To Viktor’s credit, his cybernetic reflexes are scary fast and he manages to keep his thumb and index finger pressed against the corner of the glass — against his credit, however, his reflexes are a little too fast and his mechanical grip a bit too strong, and the glass cracks. “Oops, sorry,” you apologize instantly, but you don’t feel that bad when leaking LCD fluid obfuscates whatever Jayce’ response was to ‘wtf does 13 mean’ followed by ten angry-face emojis (guess Viktor wasn’t entirely sober, either — glad he was sort of keeping you company in that regard). Viktor gives a frustrated growl, but the visible portion of his screen lights up with an incoming call: gleaming teeth, again. “No, don’t take that,” you protest weakly, but you’re still not entirely clear-minded and the effort is futile. Viktor leaps to his half-flesh, half-machine feet and steps outside the bar, grateful that the “accept call” button still seems to work. You shrink into your seat, suddenly nervous. It had probably been a mistake to drink tonight; you’d wanted to calm your nerves and present yourself as you always had been around Viktor, but perhaps you’d had a little too much on an empty stomach and had been a little thrown by how much he still affected you despite your best efforts to get over your affections. Eyes fixed on the window, you watch Viktor’s posture go through a range of interesting positions during his call before he turns back towards you, his gaze laser-focused. His hand slowly drops to his side and he gives you an open expression of awe before urgently waving for you to come outside. Your trembling fingers shred up your answer sheet and tosses the pieces into a waste bin on your way out; behind you, the host declares your team forfeit as other competitors cheer. “Um, hi.” It’s chilly outside in the crisp, autumnal air. Viktor immediately wraps his jacket around your shoulders; when you protest, he gestures at his transplanted limbs. Right. He’d added heating elements to them to assist with terrible winters. “Hi,” he exhales. His eyes look clear, and you feel like your alcohol buzz is all but gone (though you expect the dehydration to hit you tomorrow). Neither of you say anything for a beat. Then a voice crackles from somewhere around Viktor’s hips. “Viktor?” You both jump — Jayce’ voice is LOUD. Viktor curses something Slavic that sounds really unbecoming, then fumbles with controls in his wrist before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Bluetooth.” He gestures at his leg. “And accidentally pressing on the speaker button, which I can’t see because of the loose LCD liquid.” You blink. He blinks. Then you burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. “For the love of all that is holy and good, please don’t connect your appendages to any other technologies,” you plead in between breaths. “I know you’re a genius and you’re my best friend and I’d be amazed by virtually anything you do, but some things are meant to be left un-experimented with.” Some of the light in Viktor’s amber eyes falters. “Best friend? Despite… the thirteen?” Ah. So Jayce did, in fact spill the beans — though you suppose you’d given the all-clear in your drunken state. You swallow, avoiding the intensity of Viktor’s gaze. “Well, now that you know the truth, I’m actually the first, not the last.” He rubs at the corners of his eyes, pressing them shut. “Wait. What do you mean? You? Jayce said that you all had a bet on how many students would end up crushing on me before the end of the semester; he mentioned that you might be feeling weirded out by it despite being an enthusiastic member of this betting pool. You’re both ridiculous, by the way, but I thought… I just thought…” Um. What? Jayce hadn’t revealed that you were part of the thirteen? “You thought what?” Viktor shuffles where he stands, now averting your gaze, which you fix on him. “I thought you might have avoided me because you were jealous. That you might have a stake in the game, or an interest in me.” He exhales. “Forget it, it’s ridiculous.” He turns to leave, shoving his hands into his pockets as he shivers; guess he hadn’t turned on his conveniently-attached heaters after all. You reach out to stop him with a hand on his arm. “Viktor, wait.” You sigh, mustering up whatever fully-sober courage you could find. “I was a little jealous, but you’re missing some key information. When I said I was the first, I meant that I’m part of those thirteen people. Surprised Jayce didn’t think to tell you that, though I’ll give him a piece of my mind later.” “First,” he says, folding the word over in his mouth as his mind runs through calculations. “The semester in question ended two months ago; how long ago did you start having feelings for me?” You pull the lapels of his jacket tighter around you, not really wanting to admit the real truth quite so readily. “Uh,” you say intelligently. “I only admitted it to myself a few months ago, but if I’m being realistic, this has been a building undercurrent for years.” “Years,” he repeats, and you begin to wonder if Viktor’s lost some of his vocabulary. You watch as the wheels turn in his head, waiting for a real response from him. Then, somehow, his lips are on yours. They’re cold and dry and yet so soft, and though he quickly leans away in what you presume to be shyness, you grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him back to you. You’re both well into adulthood, both fully experienced in the art of kissing others but not each other, but you think for a first kiss between longtime friends it’s a pretty good one. When you break apart, Viktor glances at the display embedded into his mechanical wrist. “Over one-hundred and ten b.p.m.,” he comments, showing you the readout of his heart-rate monitor. “Well, I’ll be damned,” you laugh, and tug him down for another kiss. ————————————————————————— Since you and Viktor became an official ‘Thing’ in the lab (much to the disappointment of twelve of Viktor’s students, and much to Jayce’ suddenly wealthy glee due to his won bet against Mel), you’ve settled into a much more normal cadence of interaction with Viktor. The past few months had been self-inflicted torture which you now know was entirely unnecessary, but Viktor does his best to not hold the minor hurt you caused him against you. Sure, he brings it up in arguments, but always playfully — he’s much more grateful that the short period of questioning and turmoil led to such a brilliant outcome. Rather, he’s just glad you’re not as twitchy around him anymore, and no longer avoiding him. You don’t return to that bar for trivia; you’re both pretty sure people stopped playing the game and watched your little drama transpire outside. Instead, you find a different establishment. It’s equally as dive-y and much closer to Viktor’s apartment, which makes for a very convenient escape for whenever you get too handsy when he sexily answers a nerdy question with incredible ease. You don’t go out as often, preferring to stay inside where you can snuggle to your hearts’ content. Tonight, you’re curled up against Viktor, ignoring the biting cold of the snow outside and rather enjoying your literal space heater of a boyfriend as he tries to wrap his brilliant brain around the plot of LOST. “It doesn’t make sense,” he complains, scrolling through his phone while the show is paused, trying his best to decipher the various plot lines. “After a certain point, I don’t think it’s supposed to,” you laugh, placing nibbling kisses under his jaw. He squirms, much to your delight, but he keeps scrolling through plot summaries. “And why do you watch something so nonsensical?” He frowns at the screen; you bought him a new phone, one he thankfully hasn’t connected to the Bluetooth sensors in his mechanical arms. Heimerdinger’s pet Poro, who Viktor happens to be pet-sitting, jumps into his lap in order to burrow into his warmth. You snuggle closer into both of them. “It’s an excellent distraction,” you hum. “I started watching it while I was busy trying to ignore my feelings for you.” Viktor opens his mouth in a little ‘ah’ of recognition, before lifting his arm around you and beginning to trace absentminded patterns into your arm. “I’ll give you that, but I think it’s more distracting because it’s frustrating.” He glances down at you and the very pleased Poro, thinks for a second, then lifts the rotund pet off of his lap with ease. The creature gives an indignant sound, displeased to lose such a wonderful heat source in a cold winter, but Viktor ignores it as he stands. “I can think of a better distraction,” he declares, tugging you up from the couch. You protest at the loss of warmth yourself as the blanket falls away from your body, but you follow Viktor to the bedroom nonetheless. When you hear a whirring sound, your jaw drops open in disbelief. “You didn’t.” “I didn’t what?” Viktor murmurs, pressing kisses to your forehead and peppering them down your face and décolletage as he slips warm fingers beneath your sweater. “You did NOT install a vibrator into your implants!!” “I might have. I might have not,” he muses, enjoying shock in your voice a little too much. “Would you really complain about it if I did, though?” “Yes!” You splutter. “That’s so… It’s…” “Relax,” Viktor husks into your ear with a chuckle, drawing his fingers up your bare back with feather-light touches. “I didn’t, for the record, though it’s incredible fun to watch you determine whether it’s a turn-on or a turn-off.” He divests you of your clothing quickly before gesturing for you to head to the bed. You oblige, but not before helping him out of his own vestments first. “Worst boyfriend ever,” you tease as you lean back on the bed. “You have a terrible sense of humor.” “Worst? Really?” He kneels, kissing a trail up your legs as his hands dance over your skin. “Mmhmm,” you reply weakly. You’re enjoying his ministrations a little more than you’d care to admit, and your resolve for teasing him is quickly waning. “We’ll see about that,” Viktor smiles against your skin. Then he proceeds to disprove your highly unscientific conclusion, preferring to present you with another theory: that he might be the best boyfriend ever instead. When you come down from your third high of the night, you find yourself with significant proof towards his hypothesis. You let him know, and he merely replies with a short “good” and a kiss to your cheek. Spent, you curl into him and quickly drift off to sleep in his arms. Arm trapped beneath you, he lifts his wrist to check something, your hair illuminated by the faint glow from the display. 160 beats per minute, slowing down as his own breath evens out. Viktor smiles privately to himself, turns off the display, then lets himself ship off to sleep with you.

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor smut #viktor arcane smut #viktor arcane #viktor arcane fluff #viktor arcane fanfiction #viktor arcane imagines #arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane fluff #arcane fanfiction

[hotch-stufff]

Meet the Parents

Gif is not mine

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!Reader

Warnings!: angsty, mentions of neglect, bad parenting, fighting, arguing, lots of yelling, parents saying degrading things towards reader, but happy ending between reader and hotch obviously

Description: Hotch meets your parents that have never approved of you or anything you do, how will he react when they begin picking apart your life?

A/N: not rlly sure if i love this one, but I hope you guys do. Probably a bunch of spelling errors, just warning you.

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It was a bad idea.

Of course it was a bad idea.

You really didn't know why you had to go through with this.

You never wanted to have to introduce him to your parents. You had hoped this day wouldn't come. They were... not the best parents in the world, to say the least.

But you were engaged, getting married in only a few months, and your parents had of course heard of your engagement from your older sister. She had accidently let it slip on her last visit.

And now you had to introduce him. And God you were terrified. They had belittled and picked apart each and every aspect of your life.

It wasn't really your father, more so your mother. But he had never stopped her and joined in occasionally.

They had always hated your decisions. You had joined the marines straight out of highschool, and went to the FBI academy after 4 years of service. You had then quickly made your way to the FBI's behavior analysist unit, and that was where you had met your now fiance, Aaron Hotchner.

And of course your mother disapproved. She had always wanted you to go the traditional route. Be a stay at home mom, married with kids by the time you were 20.

You were now 28 and just getting engaged, so of course your mother was going to have some complaints.

But you had never expected how the night actually had turned out.

You had been wringing your hands the entire way there. Aaron had been worried about you for the entirety of the trip. Constantly sending you glances, taking your hand in his own and squeezing reassuringly.

"It will be alright, love." He would tell you. You would simply glance at him shaking your head.

He didn't know how wrong he was.

Soon enough you pulled up into the driveway of your childhood home. Your heart beat widely as you stepped out of the car, meeting Aaron on the other side.

"I'm sorry." He shot you a confused look.

"For what?" he had asked.

"Just apologizing in advance." And with that you rang the doorbell. You heard footsteps and the door was yanked open. Your mothers shrill voice rang through the air.

"Honey! They're here." She sent a smile Aaron's way, and glanced at you dissaprovingly. "Darling. What on earth are you wearing?" You looked down at your simple dress and rolled your eyes.

"Good to see you too mom." She shook her head.

"Of course of course. Good to see you as well. And you must be Aaron? We have heard nothing about you." You scoffed, quickly covering it with a cough, as Aaron responded.

"Yes, Aaron Hotchner ma'am. Its wonderful to meet you."he stuck out his hand for her to shake, but she just turned around and strutted away.

"Do come in, we wouldn't want dinner to get cold. You're already 20 minutes late." She scolded as she walked through the kitchen door.

"Mom, we are 5 minutes early." You stated simply. She laughed like you had said the most absurd thing in the world. You just rolled your eyes.

Aaron shot you a glance and you smiled softly at him.

You gathered around your table, hoping for a somewhat pleasant meal. You father walked in glancing at Aaron before doing a double take.

"Ah you must be Aaron." Your father held out his hand hesitantly. Hotch shook it respectfully introducing himself.

"Yes sir, Aaron Hotchner." He nodded politely.

You all sat around the table and began eating in silence. Small talk here and there but mostly silence, until your mother finally spoke up.

"So, you two met at work?"she asked, disdain present in her voice.

"Uh, yes we did. We work together at the BAU." You replied, catching your mothers eye roll but electing to ignore it.

"Yes, I'm the unit chief, and Y/n is one of our best agents." You couldn't stop him before he made his mistake. And you saw the realization flashed in your father's eyes.

"Unit chief? Like the boss?" He asked.

"Shit." You muttered under your breath. "Yes dad, like the boss." You said a bit louder.

"You're dating your boss!" Your mother exclaimed.

"Mom, its not that big of a deal, he isn't my direct boss, another agent is." You tried explaining.

"Ugh, this government talk us just too much at the dinner table." She sighs dramatically and you shut up, not wanted to start a fight so early in the night.

You all continued eating until your dad spoke again.

"So Aaron you must be significantly older than Y/n." Your father continued. Aaron nearly choked on his drink.

"Um, there is a small age difference yes. But we have never let it bother us." God this was painful.

"No but, why on earth would you bother with a young, disappointment like Y/n? I mean she's obviously gained some weight. She had a dishonorable job for a woman. She doesn't have a family, and jmis just now getting into a serious relationship. I mean seriously Aaron, you could do so much better than, her." You could not believe the audacity of this woman. Your mother effectively silenced the entire table. You felt tears gather in your eyes. As you tried to stop them from falling down your face, Aaron set his wine down calmly and stood up.

"Your daughter is very far from a disapointment." He stated matter of factly. "She is by far one of the Best people that I know. She is the love of my life. She is one of THE most prestigious agents in the FBI, and is apart of one of the best teams in the country. She is the most amazing partner in the world, and had become my favorite person. I dont know how you consider yourselves decent human beings when you can sit here and degrade your own daughter like this. And I feel sorry that you can't see how amazing she truly is." He was nearly breathless when he finished. You stood up beside him.

"Aaron's, right. You guys are the most indecent human bei-"

Anger had flashed in your fathers eyes as he stood angrily, slamming his hands on the table, effectively interrupting you.

"How dare you come into our house and speak such words towards us!?" He yelled at Aaron and you with a furociousness you hadn't seen since you joined the marines.

"Sit down and shut up!" Aaron yelled right back, furious that your father had just interrupted you.

You decided it was time to step in and leave.

"Me and my fiance will be leaving now. I hope you have wonderful lives. And the next time I hear from you it better be an apology otherwise you will never be meeting your grandchildren. And my my wouldn't that just be very indecent." You finished in a mocking tone, spinning around and walking away, Aaron hot on your heals.

You somehow held off your tears till you reached the car and pulled into your driveway and then you completely broke down.

Aaron held you the best he could over the console, trying his best to make you feel better

"Sshhh, sweetheart, its okay." He whispered into your hair. "That was so brave. I'm so proud of you." You smiled slowly pulling away from him.

"Thank you Aaron, for everything you said in there. I never would have had the courage to say anything to them if it wasn't for you. So thank you." He was about to protest, but you shut him up quickly by pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

"I love you." He mumbled against your lips.

You just kissed him harder, getting your message across loud and clear. You pulled away, wiping away your tears.

"I think they liked you." You mumbled a few seconds later, causing him to burst into laughter.

"Especially when I told your dad to shut up." You giggled at his statement.

"Especially then." You continued laughing as you leaned in kissing him again.

Never had you been happier for having a man like Aaron Hotchner.

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Check out my Blurb Weekend!! Only accepting blurb requests for the weekend, but regular requests will be open afterwards.

Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#aaron hotchner x reader #imagine #angst #fluff #reader insert #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #sit down and shut up #hotch being hotch

[kitsunekissesxo]

“I’ll Pitch in and Help My Cute Apprentice”

Obey Me Solomon Smut, 3.7k words

Warnings: 18+ under the cut, afab she/herMC, pure smut, a little bit of plot actually, dom!Solomon, fingering, spitting, degradation, blowjob, penetration, a whole lot of nsfw, but a fluffy ending, Solomons a cocky bastard

Summary: You’re Solomon’s apprentice, attempting to master the arts of wizardry. Solomon challenges you to perform a spell he recently showed you, yet you have some troubles performing it successfully. Solomon shows you just how to perform it, getting a little too close-which results in frustration. Lucky for you, he decides to lend a helping hand. 

“Ugh...are you kidding me right now?” You groaned out, putting your head in your hands. It was the umpteenth time you had performed this levitation spell, yet the book sitting on the desk in front of you was not levitating no matter how much concentration you put in. You opened your mouth to recite the spell yet again but was startled by the door to your room opening.

Whipping your head around, your eyes met Solomon’s gray-yellow gaze, sparkling with amusement as he took in your frustrated state. He strode over to where you were sitting, glancing at the book before letting out a chuckle. 

“I see the book hasn't moved since I left. Having some troubles?” He smugly asked, folding his arms and leaning against the wall beside you. 

“I can see the cocky grin forming Sol, and I gotta say, it is not helping,” you mumbled, imploring your cheeks to not flush in embarrassment.  You weren’t sure what you were doing wrong. You already knew you harbored great magic skills, and you were fairly sure you memorized the incantation correctly. So why wasn’t the damn book moving? You wanted to prove to Solomon that you could do this-that you weren’t some helpless apprentice that he had to watch out for. And there he was, standing beside you, staring at your failure of levitation.

“Here,” he started, grabbing a seat and scooting next to you,  “let me help. Show me exactly what you’ve been doing and we’ll tweak it so you’re succeeding, okay?” He offered, a small smile resting on his lips. 

You nodded in response, watching as he folded his arms once more, sitting back to watch you carefully. Taking a deep breath, you recited the spell with as much concentration and force as you could muster. The book sat there like it was mocking you, and you wanted nothing more than to curse out that stupid book. 

“I see.” He commented, his hand resting against his chin thoughtfully. “The speaking portion of the spell was done wonderfully, MC. However, with levitation spells, you have to use your hand to indicate the way you’d like your object to move, along with picturing it in your mind. Shall I demonstrate for you?” He proposed, looking at you for confirmation. 

“Please do,” you responded, feeling silly for not knowing such an important part of the spell.

You watched as he stood up, smoothing his shirt down. He had on a dark gray button up, the top button undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with tight black jeans adorned with a black leather belt. His cream jacket was hanging on the back of his chair. As you watched him, you couldn’t help but admire how attractive he was. A sharp jawline, prominent nose, intense eyes, silvery white hair....it was almost unfair that such an attractive man was your mentor. 

His left hand lifted elegantly, his slender and nimble fingers motioning upwards, the book following his commands. He turned to look at you, smiling, saying, “Just like that.”

You swallowed roughly. Was he being suggestive on purpose? You shook yourself of the thought, not allowing your mind to go there right now...that would be for later tonight. “Th-thanks for showing me, Sol. I think I got it now” you responded, expecting him to have you try it again.

“Actually, I think I should instruct you on how to move your hands. It’ll help you. Come here.” He proclaimed, motioning for you to stand next to him. 

“O-okay,” you stammered, lurching forward out of nervousness, unknowing of what he was up to. 

You swore you felt your heart stop as he stepped behind you and took ahold of your waist, positioning you how he wanted. The feeling of his long, slender fingers on your waist made your mind wander yet again, wondering how amazing they would feel digging into your hips as he- no, no, stop that. We’re practicing spells, that’s all, you thought to yourself, taking a deep breath.

Suddenly Solomons chest was pressed flush against your upper back, his nose and mouth dangerously close to your ear. You let out a gasp at the movement, not expecting him to come so close to you. 

“S-Sol, you’re kinda close...” you trailed off as he hummed nonchalantly.

“I’m helping you, apprentice. You need your hand technique down if you want to succeed in levitation spells.” He murmured. “This is your dominant hand, correct?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, feeling the hair on the back of your neck stand as his warm breath fawned against your ear. 

His hand snaked up your arm, warm fingers taking ahold of your hand, positioning them perfectly. Your brain hardly registered that his other hand was still resting on your waist, his close proximity fogging your mind. His hands were calloused from years and years of experience as a sorcerer. 

“You're so obedient, my dear,” he murmured against the side of your neck, his lips ghosting against the sensitive skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively pressed yourself against him even more. “Turn around,” he mumbled, letting go of your hand and giving you space for you to spin around. As you looked up at him, your hands came up to rest on his chest. His one hand kept a strong hold on your hip, his other coming up to cup your cheek.

“I-is this really okay?” You asked him quietly, unsure if he really wanted to be doing this with you right now.

“Why?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”

You could feel the tension in the few inches between your faces, and you couldn’t deny the heat pooling in your stomach. You shook your head, closing your eyes for a few moments. Opening your eyes after taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you admitted, “I’ve been wanting this for awhile...”

The way his eyes glinted made you suddenly feel a little uneasy- his expression almost darkened, his captivating eyes somewhat narrowing. “Is that so, MC? For how long?” He inquired, his face slowly leaning closer to yours. You breathed in, notes of lavender and coriander flooding your senses. Even his scent was alluring. 

“Ever since you began teaching me,” you admitted once more, feeling your cheeks heat up, your gaze finally shifting away from him.

“Poor thing.” He paused to lick his lips, leaning in close enough to your ear to feel his warm breath fanning on the outer shell. “That pathetic excuse of a dildo just doesn’t do the trick like my cock would, does it?” He murmured in a mocking tone.

You took a sharp inhale of breath through your nose, turning your head and gaze away from him. How did he know you’d been desperately searching for something to fuck yourself with imagining it was him? Did he catch you? Did he hear you? Did he find your toys? So many thoughts raced through your flustered mind.

Suddenly, his slender fingers grabbed your chin, sharply turning your head to face him. A stern look adorned his handsome features, his gray-yellow gaze burning into yours. “I asked you a question, my dear. I would suggest that you answer me.” He demanded, feigning an offended and annoyed attitude. You subconsciously squeezed your thighs together, feeling your cheeks redden even further as you whispered, “Nothing could possibly compare to you....”

He leaned in so close that his lips barely ghosted against yours, murmuring “That’s what I thought,” before capturing your lips in a kiss.

Kissing Solomon was nothing like you imagined- in your fantasies you both were always so desperate, pawing at each other, messily kissing. But this....this was far better than anything you could’ve thought up. He was kissing you roughly but slowly, his hand coming up to the back of your head and pushing you further into him. You would be lying to yourself if you said you couldn't have stayed there and kissed him for hours.

You stifled a moan as his tongue swiped your bottom lip, acting like he was asking you for entrance. However, he quickly and forcefully shoved his tongue through your lips. You couldn't even suppress the moan that escaped you at his roughness and you began massaging his tongue with your own. Your hands came up to the nape of his neck, gently pulling on his silvery hair. 

You pulled away to gasp for air, a trail of saliva connecting your lips together. Solomon was breathing heavily as well, his eyes hazy as he continued to watch your every move. 

“Should I take you here on the desk? Or would you prefer I pin you down on your bed?” He asked huskily, gripping your hips tightly, forehead resting against yours. 

Your mind was foggy with lust, wanting him here and now. Not being able to hold back, you pleaded, “Here, fuck me here, please.” 

With a grin, he picked you up, your legs coming up around his waist, and sat you down on the desk, his crotch pressing against your lower region. You could feel his hard on through both of your pants and let out a slight moan as you pressed into him further, fingers gripping the hair on the back of his head. His face was flushed, hair tousled, and lips somewhat bruised- he looked delectable.

“You have no idea how much you’ve teased me,” Solomon said lowly, clenching his jaw as he went about removing your shirt, enunciating each word with each button he undid. “How many times I’ve endured you leaning over to see what I'm doing, practically shoving your chest in my face,” He spat, making his point by reaching around to unclasp your bra, watching as the fabric slipped off of your breasts. You could feel how red your face was, and instinctively went to cover up your chest with your arms. However, Solomon swiftly grabbed ahold of both of your wrists, holding them away from your chest. “Don’t hide from me. You’ve teased me enough for a lifetime,” he breathed out, staring at you intensely. You nodded, giving into him, and he let go of your wrists. “Stand up for a second, doll,” he murmured, and began to remove your pants, placing a kiss below your navel, leaving you in just a pair of soaked panties. 

He sucked air in through his nose as he palmed at your chest, thumb and middle finger rubbing and tweaking your pert nipples. You moaned softly at his ministrations, encouraging him to keep going while threading your fingers through his hair above his nape. He ducked his head down to take a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking as his other hand trailed down your stomach to right above your panties, fingering at the fabric teasingly, pulling it back and snapping it against your hip. You let out a louder moan at that, and his mouth popped off your swollen nipple, giving you a look you couldn’t quite read. 

“Please touch me,” you whimpered out desperately as he flattened his palm, cupping your sex through your panties. He let out a breath through his nose. 

“Look at you. Begging without me telling you to,” he whispered into your neck, biting down as his hand continued rubbing against your sex and the other still playing with your nipple. You moaned out for him, gripping onto his shoulders as his fingers slipped the fabric of your panties aside and began to thumb at your clit in slow circles, continuing to leave marks on your neck.

You opened your legs wider to provide him better access to your dripping cunt, gasping as he trailed his forefinger through your glistening folds. “You are such a whore for me, you know that? Spreading your legs for your mentor, letting him touch you as he pleases. And you fucking love it,” he spat, slipping a finger into your hole. “Show me how desperate you are. Tell me how badly you want me,” he persisted, pumping his finger in and out of you at a quickening pace, his other hand now grabbing your inner thigh.

“Please, Solomon, I need you so badly, I-I think of you every time I touch myself-oh,” you cut off with a moan as he thrusted a second finger into your needy cunt, your grip on his shoulders tightening, attempting to stifle your louder moans as his fingers pumped in and out of you roughly and quickly. 

“I don’t remember telling you I was satisfied. Keep talking,” He coaxed, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he finger-fucked you.

You took in his state as you begged for him- his upper chest -exposed from a few undone buttons- , neck, and face were flushed and he was beginning to get sweaty. His breathing was already somewhat irregular. “Please, please, please fuck me, Sol. I will do anything, I need you so badly, I can’t take it,” you pleaded with him desperately.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you felt your heart soar. He slowed his fingers down before removing them completely and brought them up to your lips. “Clean my fingers.” He demanded, tracing your bottom lip with his soaked index finger. You whined at the loss of his warm fingers in your cunt.

You parted your lips, sucking his fingers into your mouth. You winced at the taste of yourself, but was committed to pleasing him. You ran your tongue up and down and between the two fingers, ensuring his fingers would be coated with your saliva. Suddenly he shoved his fingers further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and then removing his fingers from your mouth altogether. He had an amused look on his face as you gagged from his ministrations. “Such a filthy whore.” He murmured, wiping his fingers off on his pants. 

You awaited his next move, feeling your cunt throb as he undid his belt and pushed his pants down enough to pull his cock out of his boxers. 

“Open your mouth,” He commanded, and you obediently opened your mouth, looking up into his eyes. He leaned in close enough to where his lips brushed against yours. He then proceeded to spit in your mouth, his hand grabbing your  cheeks. “Don’t you dare swallow,” he ordered, and you closed your mouth, savoring his saliva.

“Suck me off, kitty,” he demanded, and you slipped off the desk to sink down onto your knees. Pressing a kiss to his tip, you took him into your mouth, coating his cock with his and your saliva. Your tongue massaged the underside of his cock as you bobbed your head up and down, Solomons fingers threading into your hair. He suddenly yanked your head back by your hair, your mouth popping off of his cock, hands coming up to grab his thighs to steady yourself. He had your head pulled back, your neck and chest exposed to him as he spit on you once more, his saliva landing on your collarbone, beginning to trail down to your breast. He groaned at the sight before shoving you back down onto his cock.

He began to snap his hips forward, using your mouth as nothing but a toy for his own pleasure. He kept hitting the back of your throat, reveling in your gags and gasps for air. 

“You’re taking my cock like you were meant for this, you slut,” he spat out through gritted teeth, continuing to thrust into your mouth. “You’re my little cock whore, huh? Aren't you?” Your lungs burned, your throat and mouth was sore, and your jaw was beginning to hurt. Tears were forming in your eyes as he abused your mouth, but you couldn’t help but love it. He groaned out, sighing as he yanked you off his cock once more.

“Get up and turn around before I decide to finish on your face,” he demanded, lazily stroking himself. You scrambled to your feet, and turned around, your back facing him. He pushed you up against the desk and pressed down on your upper back, bending you over. You let out a shaky moan as he rubbed his cock between your folds, teasing your entrance.

“Solomon, please,” you breathed out, on the verge of tears.

“I know, my cock whore needs filled, don’t you?” He groaned out as he began to push himself into your core, his hands grabbing your hips roughly.

You let out a moan as he began to stretch your walls, not used to his size. He pushed himself all the way into you, bottoming out with a grunt. Choking out a moan, you pushed your hips back against him, needing him to move.

“So needy, so impatient,” he tutted, and briefly pulled back to slam back into your cunt, his fingers digging into your hips, bringing you back to meet his thrusts as he began to settle on a somewhat quick and rough pace. 

You let out wanton moans every time his hips snapped forward to pound into your dripping cunt. His one hand snaked up to press on your lower back, the other keeping its death grip on your hip. 

“You're gripping onto my cock so tightly, fuck,” he groaned out, speeding up his pace. “You fucking love it, don’t you? Huh? You love my cock fucking you into this desk?” He breathed out, his hand that was on your lower back snaking underneath you to rub fervent circles on your clit. 

With him leaning down to rub your clit, the position changed, and his cock was hitting deeper than beforehand, slamming into that sweet spot. The moan you let out was obscene, the pleasure he was giving you being too much to contain. 

“Shit,” he moaned out, keeping up the pace but slamming into you even harder. You so badly wanted to see his face, how beautiful he would look with his hair sticking to his forehead from sweat, his skin completely flushed, his eyebrows screwed upward, eyes tightly shut. 

The hand on your hip came up to your neck, and before you knew it he was shoving two fingers into your mouth while relentlessly pounding into your cunt. 

With him hitting your sweet spot and still fervently rubbing circles into your clit, you felt a knot begin to form in your stomach, and it was tightening fast. 

“S-sol, I’m gonna cum, please can I?” You moaned out around his fingers, and felt his thrusts becoming irregular, not able to keep the pace.

“Cum for me,” he groaned out, and you moaned out his name as you came, his fingers rubbing you all throughout your high. Your cunt clenched around him as you came, causing him to spill inside of you closely after, both hands gripping onto your bruised hips. The moan he let out while filling you was the hottest thing you had ever heard. He gave a few more thrusts before sighing, and slowly pulling his cock out of you. You whimpered at the loss of the full feeling, still trying to get your breathing under control. You felt his cum dripping out of your cunt as you heard him fiddling with his belt buckle. This was where he was going to leave you, right?

“MC, I’ll be right back,” you heard Solomon mutter, swiftly walking out of the room. You felt a pang in your chest as you wondered if maybe he wouldn’t come back, as ridiculous as that sounded. As you began to stand up, he re-entered the room.

“Whoa, whoa, don’t move yet. I need to clean you, love,” He stated, and you felt a warm washcloth gently cleaning around your lower region and thighs. Your heart swelled- he was helping you clean up. You couldn’t help but swoon at how caring and gentle he was being.

“Here, can you sit up for me?” He gently asked, helping you turn over. 

“Y’know Sol, that was the best sex of my life, but you still didn't paralyze me.” you quipped, sitting up as he began to dab the warm washcloth on your collarbone and down your chest. 

“...Yet.” He teased, raising his eyebrows and shooting you a serious look before letting out a light laugh. His smile was so lovely- you wished you could stay in this moment forever. “Also, you flatter me too much,” he added, a hint of red flushing his cheeks as he focused on cleaning you up. 

“Aaaannnddd...there we go. I think I’ve cleaned up my mess.” He announced, setting the washcloth down beside you and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He was being uncharacteristically sweet, but you weren’t complaining.

He picked up whatever clothes you had on the floor and handed them to you, helping you pull your shirt over your head after you clasped on your bra, watching as you pulled your pants on. As soon as you were situated, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. 

As shocked as you were, you embraced him back, gently rubbing his back. His arm pressed on your lower back to push into him, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. 

“I think we should continue this,” he murmured into the top of your head.

“Continue what? Having sex?” You questioned, your face buried in his chest.

“Well, yes, if you want. But I mean....this.This spark between us is worth exploring, don't you think?” He responded, and if you listened hard enough, you could hear the smallest bit of nervousness in his voice.

“Sol....” You trailed off, pulling back from him slightly to look up at his soft gaze. “I would love that.” 

“I’m glad.” He beamed, squeezing you for a moment and then pulling away.

“Now....about that levitation spell,” he began, raising an eyebrow and bringing his hand up to his chin thoughtfully, “in the midst of our fun, we knocked the book off of the desk. Show me what you’ve learned- put the book back on the desk using a levitation spell.” He said, looking at you expectantly.

With a huff of disbelief, you looked at the book, and began to recite the incantation, seeing it gracefully float up onto the desk in your mind, your hand coming up to direct the book. And, right in front of both of your eyes, the book successfully levitated and was placed gently on the desk. You looked at Solomon, expecting him to congratulate you. 

“I always knew my cock worked wonders,” he grinned, arrogance suffocating the air around him. 

You couldn't believe you chose this cocky old man. 

- FIN

authors’ note: this is heavily inspired by Solomons new human world outfit. I saw the quote he had in the announcement for the new lessons and before I knew it the spirit of horny had possessed me and this was being written. 

Total time: 4hrs 33mins

Wordcount: 3782

#obey me! #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me solomon #obey me Solomon smut #obey me smut #shall we date solomon #solomon x mc

[enjeolmii]

10 questions - p.sh

synopsis: to ask questions isn't too bad. but to end up doing something you never expected from the intention behind every question? way better!

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

word count: 2.4k

warnings: make out sesh (not written in depth), lots of teasing but it’s all playful you nasty

"Next question! Did you like anyon-"

"Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing? I'm supposed to go next." Sunghoon blocks you with an audible tap on the soft mattress, tsk-ing at your smooth but not slick enough scheme to get more answers from him.

It's a Saturday - the day of the week when assignments, works, chores, and duties are temporarily thrown down the window. On these days, you and Sunghoon go on a carefree date. It's a routine you made once a week to maintain your relationship amidst the setback caused by lockdown, and it was going great.

At a time when real interactions between people became an inappropriate thing to do, and everyone turned to technology as a resolution, you made sure that everything is done by Friday, despite it being so dreading, just so that procrastinating wouldn't be a problem dragged over the next day. And when those pressuring times occur to you, you would send each other texts, exhorting to go easy on yourselves. That's why Saturdays are the only thing you wait for every week. You weigh it up as a chance to see the only light that keeps you going, the one that helps you see clearly the path you are taking in this obscure world.

So here you are with Sunghoon in your bedroom, sitting on the bed and leaning on the wall beside it, covered in your blanket as you cuddle under the warm, comfy covers. The day has been an uneventful one. If not for him reminding you of the conversation you had prior in the week, where you asked him to gather questions he had for you, you would have slept the whole day over without accomplishing anything.

"Fine, what's your eighth question?" You admit, frowning at his attentive remark, and he snickers.

He lifts his phone and scrolls through the questions he has saved in his notes. "Have you ever had a dream about me?"

Your eyes roll around with a finger on your chin, recalling the scenarios you had of him. There were many, some surrounding the time when he decided to confess to you, and most of them came from the fantasies you had of him. Those dreams scare you more than the stare of a fiery lion. It almost even feels illegal to think about it because you aren't well over twenty. Though they were just outlines of you and him kissing innocently, you always end up making out at the end of the story.

You weren't one of those twelve-year-olds who've had their first kisses already. Your mother kept a close eye on you in situations like this, so you would rather make out with your pillow than hear her nagging your ears off. Because of that, you grew up as a child unbothered by her love life, and the mere thought of kissing someone in real life makes your hair stand up. That's when you knew he brought out a lot of changes in you.

You swallow the lump of saliva in your throat. "Yeah, I have." You answer truthfully but still cautious of the words you put out.

"Really?" His head perks in your direction. "What did I do?"

You got a little nervous knowing he would undoubtedly interrogate you on this. But thankfully, you were prepared with a streamlined answer. "That's three questions, genius," You say, reaching for his head to give it a light smack, from which earns you a groan. "Save your chances for better questions."

"What do you mean? It's a good one. What did you dream about? I want to know."

"Okayy~ Next question. Where is that..." You switch the topic hastily, hands occupied with finding the question you were waiting to ask him through your notes. "Found it. Did you like anyone before me? If so, who are they?"

"That's two questions, though?"

"Nope. Not if you put them together." You smile at him cheekily, and he throws his head back in astonishment, mouth wide open, spewing out breathy wow's.

"You're playing it dirty, I see. Well, I had two other girlfriends before you." He brings his pinky finger out. "One was my sixth-grade classmate, and the other one was my best friend from the rink." He shoots his mouth off to chaff at you yet again.

A stiff frown crawls on your face as you nod at him sarcastically. "Oh, wow. Impressive." You hum in wonderment, silence unfurling in the suddenly insipid room.

Sunghoon knew you weren't easily irritated by these circumstances. If he were talking to a random girl on the street, more often than not, you would only think of them as one of his fans from the arena, nothing more. Even if he had to accomplish things with a girl in his class, you trusted him very much with your relationship to doubt him in his actions. And so, seeing you hush after a talk like this...

Of course, he would take it as a chance to play with you.

"Aww, is my precious little y/n jealous?" His voice sharpened one octave higher as he pats your head with a pout and mock sadness in his eyes. "What do I do? I kissed them, too."

You were okay with him having two other ones before you, but at the mention of a kiss, your figure skews his way. You weren't sure if he was hoaxing you or not, but to say so honestly, it troubled you. This wasn't the intention you had with your question. All you wanted to get out of it was something to tease him about when he says he has none, yet it was still you who got ragged of your own query.

However, that's beside the point. Was it necessary to point out those last words? It wasn't you to be agitated over something as dispensable as this, but of all things, why did he have to attack your weakness?

Sunghoon's sounds of laughter tear you away from your thoughts. "Got 'em~" He pulls a finger at you in another fit of laughter, seeing you in a state of total shock.

"What the heck? It was a lie?" You pull away firmly from his body, hitting him on the shoulder with force enough to make him wobble on the bed.

"You fell for it." He provokes you, head bouncing up and down in silent titters, and you smack his hand away, leaning back down on his shoulder.

"No, I didn't," You feel him nod abut your head, seeing mentally what teasing expression he has plastered on his face this time, but you only shrug it off. "Which part was the lie, though? You kissing them or being with them?"

"Can't answer that. Save your chances for better questions, cutie."

"Touché," You scoff. "What's the next question?"

"Well, since we came to the topic of kissing... When was your first kiss?" He converts his stare to a peer of glistening fervour. Though not as subtle as he would have probably wished it to be, you could sense the perceptive intent he was hiding behind his tone.

You render motionless. Never did you tell him anything about your dreams, nor would you ever have plans to tell him. It's a product of your wildest imaginations to feed your untold desires. It's what helps restrain the ungodly in you, but it also fuels you with the need to see what it actually is like. It's a continuous internal war going on in you, its purpose being to stop you from creating trouble for yourself. And now that you finally have him here, not going to lie, it's kind of embarrassing to acknowledge the profuse amount of dreams you had of him, moreover that he stole your first kiss... Except it was in your dreams, literally.

"I never had any," You answer, trying to stay as cool as possible. "I'm a good child who listens well to her mother, so don't think no one tried to hit on me once. I turned a lot of them down." A small smile trudges its way onto his face, but the way his eyes were fixated on you remained untypically the same.

"I don't know if I should be happy that you picked me out of all of them or be sad for those 'poor hearts' you broke." He draws an air quote along with his words, and you shake your head at him. "Don't worry. I won't tease you on this one. I just wanted to know." He mumbles quietly through a simper, moving to rest his head on yours.

Hearing that he'll cut you some slack relieved you, but one thing about his utterance caught you off guard. "Why do you want to know that?"

"That's the only way I'll get to know you deeper, Einstein," He retracts his head and nudges you on his shoulder, causing you to bump your head against its edge, a grunt following you. However, while you were still in the midst of justifying the whack he did on your head, he spins his vision to you in an adventitious celebration. "Oh- that's your tenth question, then!"

"Wait, hold on!" You haul over to straighten your posture, the creaking of the bed barely audible from the loudness of your opposition.

"It's my turn again." His eyes grow invisible from his cheeks, pushing it up into a smile. He just never gets tired of making fun of you. How you wish you could do the same to him. If only punching someone straight in the face denotes no wrongdoing, you would have done that ages ago.

"Bitch, why did you answer that?" You call him, blaming him with the irritation that you weren't able to control yourself.

"You ask, I answer. Isn't that how it goes?" He grins at you matter-of-factly, and you tousle your hair around in frustration.

"Ugh, you're crazy," You send glares up his way. "Whatever. Your last question, throw."

As if that was a signal he has been waiting for, Sunghoon shuts his phone and tucks it in his pocket. "How does it feel to kiss someone?"

You were confused. You just said you've never kissed anyone before.

A dry giggle leaves your mouth after much processing. You knew you shouldn't have trusted his words. No matter what you do, he'll find the cracks and holes to slip in his every jest. "I think you got the wrong person, kid. How do you think I'd know?"

"Hmm..." He drones, the ticking sound of the clock suddenly increasing in volume with every minute passing by. "Should we try it, then?" He suggests.

"What?" You were taken aback, a sudden chill sweeping through your body like a surge of cool air gashing through the enclosed room. What is he going on about?

Inch by inch, you feel him gravitate towards you, your torso backing up from his inclining frame until the warmth you caused on the cold wall completely presses against your back. Like the fire of a gun's bullet on a steady path, your heartbeat raced in a trice. His eyes stared at yours, tracing down to your parted lips as he led his other hand across your body, trailing up your arms to your shoulders, just until it reaches your jaw. Your breath hitched, lips shutting tightly as you gulp down at the presence of his queer boldness.

It's like the scenarios you formed in your head where he pins you against the wall, lips hovering yours with soft breaths that tickle your skin. Him studying your face with obstinacy to make you his, doing whatever it is that would make you happy. Nevertheless, he made sure to be cautious of things you wouldn't want him to do. He still respected you.

He's doing just the same thing, and it's getting you set on thinking whether this is all a dream taking too long to reach its climax or if your dreams are miraculously made into reality. But his next set of words were enough to tell you the clarification to your uncertainties.

"Please don't be mad." Without warning, his lips found their place on your light, pillowy ones. It felt like he was pouring out all emotions he's been holding in until now. He always controlled himself whenever you're around because he didn't want to disappoint your mother. But with this instance is a chance to do something he has long been dreaming of. He wasn't about to lose it.

The way his head tilts to the side to get a more comfortable position, eyes closing and immersed in the pleasure of your lips against his, got you clasping onto your blanket to ease the havoc he's causing in your guts. You froze at the contact. As if time had halted and the world stopped spinning, everything seemed to slow down at that moment. Maybe it was the sweet scent of his bergamot fragrance. Maybe it was the tightening of his grip on your jaw, or perhaps the longing you had for him that's enticing you in this position.

It's not every day that we get to see our dreams come true, and for one, it's a matchless feeling, especially when the dream is worthwhile. Slowly, you give in and close your eyes in the warmth of his touch. His lips parted to bite at your lower lip, and you overtly open your mouth to let him in.

"Do you think you could answer it now?" He questions you, but you couldn't comprehend what he was saying. You were too caught up in your own feelings during the whole session; you almost forgot what happened before it was done. Just when you thought he’d stop pulling out all the hidden quirks of yours, he caught you once again. And it didn't take long enough before you recollected yourself.

"Right. It's way better than I could have ever imagined." You smile at him, giving rise to the same smile as you.

"If this is how it will usually end, maybe I should start gathering more questions for you." He proposes, his head wheeling over to you with sheer excitement.

"Uh-huh... Just make sure you don't catch anything from the streets before you come over." You reply with a cackle, getting off his lap and sitting back down on the soft mattress.

It was supposed to be a dull and boring day. But with another chance that you two meet comes another something to remember forever. And you can't help but grin from ear to ear.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen fluff #enhypen oneshots #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen angst #park sunghoon #sunghoon #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #iland sunghoon #iland x reader #iland imagines #iland fluff #ariafics #oH WOAH 200??? #👁💧👄💧👁

[nat-20s]

what’s poppin everyone please have this fun lil writing warmup/short story inspired by me thinking “Dancing in the Moonlight” was definitely 100% about werewolves

~*~

“So, this your first transformation?”

The counselor? Leader? Tour guide? Asked this with a perfectly jovial tone, as if the typical social mores surrounding, ugh, lycanthropy, didn’t apply to her. They didn’t know what exact title to call her, and her name tag just said “Luna”, which, reflecting on it, either was a joke on her part or a reflection of her parents’ sense of humor.

Picking at the scabs from last month, they cringed and replied, “No. Uh. Second.”

Luna lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That sucks. Guessing you got bitten rather than inherited the ol’ wolfman gene?”

“That’s...kind of personal?”

Unlocking the front door of the log cabin that served as King Harvest’s Headquarters, Luna shrugs and says, “Shit, sorry. Forgot the whole weird stigma around your source of the once monthly nightmare, as if it fuckin matters. Also, I know, I know, ass out of you and me. Hey, you got any dietary restrictions? Gluten, peanut allergies, the like?”

Voice flat, they tell her, “I’m vegetarian,” and waits for the obvious response.

As they wander through the cabin towards the kitchen, Luna flipping on the light switches, generic club music starts to filter in. Instead of the obvious response, Luna asks, “You like veggie burgers? Or maybe pasta? I’d offer salad, but that’s really not gonna cut it for tonight.”

“I ate before I came.”

With a snort, she tells them, “Oh yeah? Did you have about 4000 calories?”

“No? Why would I have?”

Sweeping out her arm, she gestures at the food laying out on the counter and tells them, “Then eat up! 4000 is really a minimum for the night if you don’t want to feel like someone physically beat out all of your energy in the morning. 6000 is more the target area, but we got, hmm, about 15 minutes before things get uncomfortable, and half an hour max before things get dire.”

They glance down to the food, and, admittedly, the broccoli alfredo does look pretty appealing. Still, they have to ask, “Is this a cult?”

Luna lets out a bark of a laugh that has nothing to do with her (maybe) being a werewolf. “Okay, first of all, what kind of cult is like ‘fuck yeah, we’re a cult’? Secondly, despite the first thing, I can say that we’re not a cult. I know how “King Harvest: Center for Movement Therapy” sounds, both clinical and vague enough to be suspicious as hell, but I didn’t come up with the title, blame my long deceased dad for that one. Plus, ‘King Harvest: Bitchin’ Wolf Dance House’ probably wouldn’t look good on the grant applications.”

“Grants?”

“Oh yeah. This bad boy’s been publicly funded since its opening in 1972. Hence no membership fees.”

“Is that why animal control is giving out your business card? Are they one of your sponsors?”

“Nah, that’s just Jack. Me ‘n’ him go way back, hell, to his park ranger days.  I mean, yeah, I think he’ll campaign for us, but mostly I think he just hates capturing a wolf in the night only to have a naked, trembling human in the morning, and he knows that our program significantly reduces the odds of that happening, at least in this neck of the woods.”

They let out a hum, then glance back down to the food. As appealing as it down look, they’re still about..30% convinced this is an elaborate organ harvesting operation. Or sketchy sex thing.

Apparently sensing their hesitation, Luna says, “You got a favorite chip?”

“Salt and vinegar.”

Grabbing a sealed family sized bag from the overhead cabinets, Luna tosses it to them. “If you come back next full moon, either eat enough in advance or have a real meal here. That being said, excuse the turn of phrase, you should wolf that down. It’s sure as hell better than nothing.”

They catch it, and the bag opens with a puff of air that speaks to a reassuring lack of tampering. As they toss a chip into their mouth, Luna grabs a water bottle from the fridge and places it down next to them. “So? Any questions for me? We’ve still got about ten minutes before we have to go out there.”

Rolling their eyes, they tell her, “No. None at all.”

“Great! Soon as you’re done eating we’ll get you started.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Yeah, no shit, smart-ass. Seriously, what are your, we haven’t got much time.”

“I don’t know? The whole..thing? I mean, how is it supposed to..work? Like? At all?”

“You ever see Amok Time?”

“Is that relevant?”

“It’s a yes or no question babe.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then the explanation is going to be a lot more technical and take a lot longer, ultimately to likely make less sense.”

“...I’ve seen it.”

“Great! So, Pon Farr is basically this chemical blood imbalance that results in fuck or die disorder, yeah? But then Spock neither fucks nor dies, and eventually the vulcans get their shit together and find out that an intense fight can serve the same function, and the blood fever chills out. Lycanthropy operates on a similar enough basis for comparison. You’re compelled to act out on energetically heavy base instincts, returning to the ways of the wolf or whatever. Traditionally, that’s done through running and hunting, which has, historically, been a crapshoot at best. Theoretically, sex can also get the job done, but I’m sure you can imagine how that gets extremely dicey extremely quickly. Either restraints or isolation has been implemented for a while, but, c’mon, they’re bandaid solutions, and they’re far from foolproof. Luckily for us all, my grandmother decided to connect back with her ancestors, and there was a handful of stories having huge festivals to deal with ‘moon violence’. She tried it out, and, yeah, dancing works.”

“That sounds…”

They don’t know how that sounds. Made up, mostly.

“Like a bunch of hippie bullshit? Yeah, it kind of is, Grandma Josephine was a huge hippie, but it’s hippie bullshit that works. In fact, let’s go see the others, it almost always makes things clearer.”

Figuring that whatever they’re about to see can’t be worse than their transformation last month. They head through the sliding glass door out the back, the thump of the music suddenly loud enough to be felt in their chest. The sight that awaits them makes them drop their chips and let out a gasp. Barely able to speak, they exhale out, “None of them...they’re not wolves. How..how??”

Indeed, the roughly forty people jumping to the pulse of whatever they’re listening to (some to the in house DJ, some, apparently, to what’s playing over the large headphones they have adorned), resemble the image of a wolfman much more accurately. They bare claws, fangs, elongated snouts, upright ears, and  serious amounts of hair, but they’re on two legs, and moving like humans. Some of them are even singing along to the lyrics, which really shouldn’t be possible.

Luna grins, making it obvious that she’s used to this level of shell shocks. “Ultimately, you do have to give into some damn rigorous instincts. But dancing is a human instinct, not a canine one, so you end up, well, humanoid. Pretty nifty, huh?”

“And they all..they all keep their minds? I didn’t...they don’t blackout?”

“Not since we banned alcohol in the 90s! Here, watch this.”

Luna nods her head at the DJ, and the DJ, obligingly, turns down the music for a moment. The members of the crowd not listening to their own music pause, then look towards the door. She cries out, “Hey gang! HOW WE ALL DOIN’ TONIGHT?”, and gets a mix between a howl and “WOO!” cried back. The DJ then turns the music back up, and the general movement of the crowd resumes.

They should be more skeptical. They want to be more skeptical, they were just minutes before, but it’s hard to disagree with something right in front of you. “This will work for me? I just..have to dance?”

“Well, it’s not guaranteed. Few things are. But we have yet to have someone turn violent on us. If you start to fell yourself slipping from consciousness, though, I do ask that you start heading further into the woods, as to not hurt other guest. If you find yourself just getting tired, there’s beds inside, and a fair amount of pillows around the edge of the quote unquote dance floor, if you end up in more of a nesting mood. Also, I recommend taking off your shoes before you start.”

“What? Why?”

Luna gives a pointed glance at the dancers’ feet, which, ah. They’re about twice as large as normal and at least twice as sharp. The converse on their feet would be no match. “Ah.”

“Ready?”

They shove off their shoes and place the remainder of their chips aside. “As I’ll ever be.”

Good thing, too, as they’re starting to feel an uncomfortable pressure in their chest that was the prelude to disaster last month.

Luna strides to the center of the dance floor, which is really a plush lawn surrounded by forest. The crowd naturally moves around her, and she yells out, “Aiyana! Play my song!”

Aiyana gives a nod, and the opening notes of “Dancing in the Moonlight” start to sound out. “Seriously?”

Luna shrugs, grinning like a fool, and says, “It’s a classic!”

“It’s cliché at best.”

Luna shrugs, and then begins dancing. She’s hardly elegant, but she is dazzlingly joyful in her uncoordinated movements. As the song reaches the first chorus, she gives a twirl, and in the split second it takes, she’s transformed. They blink in shock, not knowing you could transform that seamlessly, that quickly, that painlessly. Luna in half wolf form is just as expressive as the human Luna, and she gives a nod over her shoulder as if to say Come on.

Feeling somewhat foolish, they start to bop their head to the tune. Luna lets out a huff and grabs their hands, spinning them around and forcing them to get moving. At first, it’s them indulging Luna, but as they let themselves get lost in rhythm, they feel a stretching sensation in their face and limbs. It’s not unpleasant, more like when you wake up and work out the tension in your spine. They open their eyes and look down at their hands, now covered in fur in and made for slashing. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt, and they’re still themselves, and they had no idea that full moons could be like this, maybe for the rest of their lives.

They turn their head to the night sky, and their body can’t help but continue to dance. Despite all their fear, all their dread, “movement therapy” worked, and they can admit, at least to themselves, that they feel warm and bright.

#my writing #nats journey into writing short stories based on 70s songs continues lmao

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE,BLOOD Vol.09 Sakamaki Shuu [Track 3+4]

Original title: めんどくさい女 & もっと舐めろ

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 9: Sakamaki Shuu [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here & here

Seiyuu: Toriumi Kousuke

Translator’s note: Shuu whispering in your ear is honestly my weakness. > // < I guess I’m still on the Shuu hype train from recently finishing his Dark Fate route, but I’m enjoying this CD a lot! Definitely a large improvement over the mess that was Kanato’s MB CD. I’m sure Kanato stans enjoyed the other one but all the screaming and aggressive blood sucking just wasn’t for me. I’d much rather have my low-key perverted sleepy boi. xD

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 3: Bothersome Woman

*Rustle*

“...Oh. The thorns dug into the skin of your arm, and blood’s now oozing out. Does it hurt? I bet it does.”

*Rustle rustle*

“Just keep going...Try twisting your arm more as you pull.”

*Rustle rustle*

“Ahー It’s bleeding again. They still won’t snap even after tugging this much...You really are useless, huh? ...Also, take a look at my clothes. They’ve been stained by your blood.”

You apologize.

“How will you make it up to me? The scent from these blood stains alone has made my head spin and my throat’s parched once more. ...You understand where I’m getting at, right?”

You flinch.

“Hand over your blood...To be honest, biting you is an annoyance and way too much of a chore, so the fact you already made yourself bleed works in my favor. Come on...Bring that arm of yours to my lips.

You protest.

“...Aah? If you can’t stretch your arm, you have to put in a little more effort. Can’t you rip those rose vines apart by now? Hurry up...! This thirst is making me go crazy...”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Hah. See? You can do it if you try. Why didn’t you do that from the start? ...What a troublesome woman you are.”

*Rustle rustle*

“Just a little further...Yes...More...”

*Rustle*

“Exactly. Guess all it took was a little bit of effort. There’s even more blood dribbling down than earlier. What a waste. Furthermore, it got on my face now as well. ...Oi, lap up the blood from my face. Clean it up with your tongue, then give it to me mouth-to-mouth.”

Your face flushes bright red. 

“I feel like it’ll get in my eye if you don’t hurry up. Come on...Make haste.”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Ah. Right. You better lick it all off, okay? ...Come on, be a little more careful. It’s your own blood, right? Use that tongue of yours to its fullest potential.”

*Rustle*

“While doing this...More blood has oozed out. Do you want me to suck you? ...Ah. Come on. Give me a kiss. I’ll drink your blood if you give it to me mouth-to-mouth.”

You kiss Shuu.

“Mmh...Nn...”

*Gulp*

“Haah...”

*Smooch*

“Hah...Give me more...Come on...Bring your arm covered in blood...to my mouth...”

*Sluuuuurp*

“So, how do you feel...watching me lap up your blood like this? ...Hah. Guess it doesn’t matter. You look like you’re having a great time after all. Mmh...”

*Smooch*

“...My thirst has been somewhat quenched. ...Heh. You’re making a face as if you have been screaming on top of your lungs after I pierced you with my fangs. I bet you want me to drag out the ugly, dark desires hidden deep inside your heart, don’t you? I’m well aware. That you just love that sorta stuff, I mean...”

Track 4: Lick More

*Rustle*

“Haah...Seems like the thirst has settled down a little. ...That being said, I still feel very hot. ...Hah. It’s a completely different sensation from usual. Almost like I’m a dog in heat. Ridiculous. Haah...I can’t move because of these roses, so if you want something from me, you’ll have to come get it yourself. ...Hah. You’re aching, aren’t you?”

*Rustle rustle*

“All over, that is...Actually, you had some other guy bite you, no? I can pick up a strange scent from you.”

You shake your head.

“Hah? You don’t remember? You really are an idiot...”

You frown.

“I’m pretty sure it has to be one of the people who kidnapped us to this place but...Ugh. What a drag. I feel disgusted from this strong scent of another guy. I mentioned this earlier as well, but your blood is your only notable feature. Once you get a taste of it, you grow addicted. I’m sure the person who left these marks felt the same way.”

*Rustle*

“Well...I don’t know how you feel about it yourself. However, don’t get the wrong idea. You’re nothing more than delicious prey. Which means...Having someone devour you should bring you the utmost of happiness, no? So you should be grateful to me...”

You puff out your cheeks.

“Haha...Your expression immediately grows grim whenever I bring that up. It’s fascinating...Makes me want to give you more false hope, only to shatter it right after all. (1) ...Oi, if you want me to bite you more, then show me your hand one more time. I doubt you can feel satisfied just from just licking?”

You avert your gaze.

“I’m already well aware of just how much of a lewd slut you are, so there’s really no point in acting embarrassed still. Don’t even bother...”

*Rustle*

“I’ll bite you strongly and make you feel good. That’s what you want, isn’t it? I’m sure it’ll feel much better than having the thorns rip up your skin...Hurry up. What? You’re hesitating? Honestly, women like you...are such a pain in the ass.”

*Rustle*

“Come on, blood has started flowing from your wounds again...Mmh...”

*Gulp*

“Say, my face got dirty from your blood again. ...You already know what to do, don’t you?”

You ask if he wants you to lick it off again.

“Hah. ...Exactly. Keep on licking.”

*Rustle*

“Not bad...Say? Try imagining it. What you look like right now, tracing your tongue across someone’s face and neck.”

*Rustle rustle*

“How pathetic. If I were in your shoes, I’d kill myself by biting off my own tongue. ...Well, not that it’s easy for us to die.”

*Rustle*

“...Did you make it all clean? ...Then give the blood to me. Come on. I’ll use my own to taste your tongue covered in blood.”

You get flustered again.

“Why don’t you just get used to this sorta stuff already? Do you have any idea how many times you’ve already showed me your shameful side? You’ve even done things you could never admit to others out loud, no? So don’t get all flustered over every single kiss.”

*Rustle*

“Mmh...Nn...”

*Smooch*

*Gulp*

“Haah...Delicious...But I want richer blood...Mmh...”

*Gulp*

“...ーー Haah. What’s with that look in your eyes? Do you want me to kiss you more? ...Or perhaps a kiss isn’t enough to satisfy you?”

*Rustle*

“Ah...But I’m feeling incredibly heated today as well, and my throat’s parched. I’ll suck your blood. I’ll give you these sharp fangs you yearn for.”

*Rustle*

“From head to toe...I’m sure your arms hurt by now, but unfortunately, I can’t move as you can see. So you’ll have to offer me the part you want bitten yourself. ...Come on. You want this as well, don’t you? There is no way just a kiss could satisfy you. ...Be honest with yourself already.”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says ‘before pushing you off the top/peak’. 

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #shuu sakamaki #diabolik lovers more blood #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

[dasdast]

will you be my boyfriend george henry davidson?

georgenotfound x male reader

oneshot

fluff!

who wouldve know how flirty jokes would be more than just jokes in a matter of time, not george!

(name) and George are both very oblivious that they crushed on each other. George was shy, not know for confrontation while (name) liked meeting new people. One of the qualities of being (name) is that he was smooth. He’d throw in a few flirty “jokes” at the Brit, but in the end they’d both laugh it off, leaving (name) a bit disappointed if it didn’t get at least one reaction from George. On the other hand, George although being known for being secluded, knew how to keep his emotions intact from ever breaking. He would scream himself internally every time (name) would make a flirty joke regarding him, laughing it off, but just like (name), feeling disappointed that those flirty jokes were nothing more than just jokes.

Just jokes?

(name) and George were both at the rocky beaches of Brighton. The sun was just about to set, perfect weather for a proposal, and much much more. (name) had invited George out because he’d needed a break from studying and taking his final exams. Very stressful for a senior college student. (name) would always bring up how lucky George was on that he had one more year till he needed to do all these stressful preparations, George was a 3rd year, junior in college.

“Ay George?” (name) wanted to pull another one of his flirty tricks again.

“Yes?” George turned.

“Let’s go swimming, right now.” (name) smirked.

“No- No way. It’s cold and we don’t have a change of clothes.”

“Aw c’mon! It’ll be fun!”

“No.”

(name) sighed. He acted fast and felt the hands of his crush repeatedly beating his back, telling him to put him down. He ran across the rocky floors and in the process loosened up his and his friend’s shoes and even socks, getting ready to jump into the beach in his euphoric state.

“Ready?!” (name) exclaimed.

“Wait no (name)!-“

Before George could say anything else, he felt his body and head submerged into water. He clung onto (name), due to the fact he didn’t know how to swim, that also being one of the reasons he didn’t want to swim.

(name) also held onto George tight and swam further into the water. (name) was getting cold, but his state made him completely forget that feeling, radiating heat off of him.

“Woo!” (name) laughed and splashed.

He continued laughing, but stopped when he didn’t hear George reply back. Their positions only slightly changed. Instead of George being on the shoulders of (name), he was now at his front, holding him and his clothing tightly and his head laying on his shoulders instead. (name) still having one arm onto the Brit felt the shivers going down his spine. Not shivers of coldness, but shivers of fear. That’s when (name) realized what was going on, George had a fear of deep bodies of water.

“Hey man I-I had no idea y-you were actually..” (name) stuttered, now feeling the effects of the cold.

George didn’t reply, just kept on holding tight.

“I-I’m sorry George..” (name) replied.

He took his other hand and fully supported the Brit’s body, heading back onto the shore of rocks. George was able to stand properly. (name) pulled him to a part of the rocks, water dripping down their clothes and just sat.

(name) took of his top, squeezing it out of a water and layer it flat next to him. (name) hoped George would do the same to avoid any cases of hypothermia, but all he saw was the boy knees up and head on the sockets, shivering as well. (name) didn’t want to violate him, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to move because of the shock.

(name) scooter over, reaching for the ends of his friend’s shirt and quickly pulling it up.

“W-What the fuck are you-“ George exclaimed, trying to stop whatever was happening.

“You’re cold, you’re just gonna get colder with a wet shirt on you know.”

George scoffed at him, letting his arms be pulled up, remaining shirtless.

(name) squeezed the water out of George’s shirt, the same movements he did for his, and layed it flat right next to the shivering boy.

“Look.. I’m sorry.. You said to put you down and I didn’t and I just forcefully dragged you in the water without thinking if you had any bad memories with it..”

George didn’t reply, just continued staring at the sea, and the sun coming down the shore.

The mood was terrible.

“Hey, you know you’re pretty cute shirtless right?” (name) trying to see if a flirty comment would brighten him up.

George continued staring at the beach, unfazed.

He was still shivering.

(name) got up, walked behind him, sat down, and embraced him.

“W-What the fuck-“

“You’re cold.” (name) replied, still holding tight while George tried pushing his arms away.

“Fuck off leave me alone-“

“No.”

“MOVE!” George exclaimed.

They were silent, only hearing the crowd fly and the water moving.

“I’m-“ Before (name) could say anything, George stood up.

“Just stop, stop. Stop apologizing, stop getting close to me, j-just.. just stop!”

George started walking away, but (name) held one of his arms before he could fully walk away.

“Let go!”

“I-I don’t understand.. where is this-“ (name) was a bit shaken at the events that just happened, but was cut off before he could finish his sentence.

“Coming from? Where is this coming from were you gonna ask?!”

“I’m so tired of your bullshit (name).”

Man oh man was (name) about to tear up.

“You’re so fucking annoying, you’re so fucking.. ugh let go!”

George forced his arm out of (name)’s grasp, walking away again but being stopped because of his other arm being held onto.

“Wait please-“

“Get away from me!”

“Wait please.. please don’t go..” (name) as George tried pulling away from his grasp.

“W-What did I do wrong..?” Feeling tear spike his right eye.

George saw this.

“You..” George looked to his side, stopped his tries at trying to pull away from you.

“You keep pushing me, just keep on pushing me.. You always say these jokes, these jokes that I wish were real, these jokes that I wish didn’t make me feel things for you..! It hurts.. And you keep on playing with me every single time, every single thing you say about me starts to hurt, a lot..”

(name) let go.

“And it hurts because.. I know it isn’t true. In my mind I keep wishing for it to be.. For you to actually having feelings for me, for you to actually think my hair looks cute when it’s messy, thinking that baggy clothes make me look adorable, thinking I’m actually attractive, thinking that.. I’m attractive.. to you...”

The stayed silent.

“I.. I-I should go..” George said.

He went back to where you both sat, picking up his damp shirt, and heading over to where you had tossed his socks and shoes.

Before he could put on his socks, he felt someone against his back.

(name) had embraced him.

“I love you.”

George’s body frozen from the words that he had just heard.

“I fucking love you.”

George started to get mad again.

“Shut the fuck up!-“

(name) let go of his embrace.

“I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU GEORGE HENRY DAVIDSON!” (name) you yelled out just loud enough for people to start looking.

“(name) what are you!-“

“I LOVE THE WAY YOUR HAIR LOOKS WHEN ITS MESSED UP, I LOVE HOW ADORABLE YOU LOOK IN BAGGY CLOTHES, I LOVE HOW EVERYTIME YOU TAKE OFF YOUR HEADPHONES THEY LEAVE A SMALL MARK ON YOUR EARS, I LOVE HOW YOU ALWAYS LOOK AWAY WHEN I TELL YOU YOU’RE CUTE! I LOVE YOU AND EVERY SINGLE THING YOU DO!”

(name) took one last deep breath.

“GEORGE HENRY DAVIDSON! WILL YOU BE MY BOYFRIEND!”

You heard people gasping and cameras recording you, but you didn’t care, you were saying all this to prove to George that this isn’t just some cruel joke, this is your true feelings.

On the other side, George was stunned. He felt every single part of his body about to pop off and fly all over the whole world. He felt like a microwave when you accidentally forgot that you left tin foil inside when turning it on and it explodes.

“Say yes!” You both heard a random person say.

You took deep breaths as you waited for George’s answer.

George walked up to you, dropped the two socks he was holding in his two hands, and held you close.

“Yes I will be your boyfriend, will you shut up now?” He whispered to your ear.

You felt ecstatic, happy, no more than happy, overjoyed. You were the luckiest person alive right now.

You picked up George and swung him around, not minding the small rocks under you slightly puncturing your foot.

“HES MY BOYFRIEND NOW EVERYONE!! HE SAID YES!!” You exclaimed gleefully as you held George tight, still spinning.

You giggled left and right while hearing the protests from George to let him down. People clapped at you both.

You stopped after feeling a bit dizzy.

“George.”

“(name).”

“Would you mind me trying something?” You smirked.

George knew what was about to happen. He closed his eyes, ready for you.

You tilted him down a bit, bending down a bit, and kissed him.

You let go after a quick minute of holding that touch and stood him straight.

“God I must be the luckiest person in the whole entire galaxy to be dating George Henry Davidson.” You smiled as you embraced him once again.

“Oh will you shut up already..”

George wasn’t gonna let anyone know, especially not you, but he really didn’t want you to shut up.

George would disagree at your statement, because right now, HE was the luckiest person in the whole entire galaxy to have you by his side.

#george #georgenotfound #gnf #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound x m reader #georgenotfounf x m! reader #georgenotfound x male reader #mcyt #fluff #oneshot #mcyt x reader #mcyt x male reader #gnf mcyt #gnf imagine #gnf brainrot #gnf x you

[jinxthequeergirl]

Ghost of The Past

Michael myers x reader (Ending 1)

Summary: Halloween always brings back memories from your child hood, turns out memories aren't the only thing coming back

Warning: swearing, this ending involves lots of death and murder

So this has just been sitting in my drafts cause its kinda bad but its been so long since i posted writing so here

~~~~~~

"Michael!? Where'd ya go!?" You yelled into the open door, you huffed after a few seconds and pulled up the skirt of your princess costume to make your journey up the house steps easier.

 "Michale come on! All the good candy is gonna be gone if we do go nooww!" You whined stomping your foot, now yelling up the staircase for your friend. Suddenly there was a scream from upstairs, it startled you for a moment.

"Judy!? Michale!?" You quickly ran up the stairs to investigate. Stopping at the top of the stairs when you found him standing in the door frame of his sisters bedroom with a kitchen knife dripping with a dark red liquid. 

"M...m...mich...michale!?" You stuttered nervously, stumbling backward away from him slightly. 

"This isn't a fun...fun game anymore...tell judy to stop it....Stop it michael!" He slowly moved twoard you before slashing at you. you yellped just barely dodging the blade, it caught the sleve of your costume ripping it. "MICHAEL!" he slashed at you again you slid and fell down the stairs face first. "Y/n!? Oh my god!" You looked up seeing mister and misses myers running up the drive way through the still open door.

Miss Myers scooped you off the floor holding you close checking you for injury and clearing your tears. "Michael what have you done!?"

You sat up in bed quickly trying to shake the memory. It was dark now, the only light coming from the tv filling the room with dim blue light.

The phone rang,pulling you from your half sleep filled brain. "Roofus, scram!" You shooed the cat away from the table the phone sat on and answered it. "Bout damn time."

"Hello to you too PJ." You said sarcastically.

"Yea yea hello, good evening,all that crap listen throw on some clothes that slightly resembles a costume and be ready in the next half hour we've got a party to go to!"

You rolled your eyes.

"No thank you, I don't do that shit remember?"

"C'mon!!! Just one halloween party, I promise you one hour and we can leave and I dunno do whatever boring thing you want to do."

"I appreciate the offer but no thanks."

"Ugh Fine, can you at least switch with Jamie? Shes watching her neighbors kids tonight and she would much rather go."

You sighed. "Sure whatever."

"You're the best, listen I'll be there in like 20 to come get you and make the switch be ready!"

Rolling your eyes again you hung up the phone.

Briefely catching what the news was saying about an escaped mental patient before shutting it iff and going up to change.

Carefully walking up the stairs so that you didnt trip in the dark your sock stuck to something wet and sticky at the top.

"Oh god! ROOFUS how many times Have I told you! To take your kill...out..side…" you trailed off when you looked up at your bedroom door to see the said cat dead and pinned to the door.

It's blood dripping down the door and pooling below it.

"Oh fuck!" You yelped, slipping back onto the floor.

You scooted back slightly hitting something that wasn't the wall.

You let out a frightened whimper and slowly turned to see what you had hit.

You looked up to see a white faced mask starting down at you. You let out a scream and scrambled back almost slipping down the stairs but the masked stranger caught your ankle.

"No stop! Get off of me!" He slid you across the floor away from the stairs, dragging you through the blood. Nervous and fearful tears spilled down your face as he did so. He was about to reach down and grab you but you kicked him back giving yourself the advantage to stand up and run down the hall.

The kick only phased the man momentarily, maybe for a second at the least because he had stood to his full height again and was wedging himself in the doorway of the room you were attempting to lock yourself in.

"Go away!" You screamed pushing your back against the door to attempt and stop him. "Please leave me alone!" He stuck a hand in trying to gain leverage but couldn't reach anything.

Finally he  pushed his way through the door sending you across the room, you hit your head on the end of the bed post but crawled over to your parents nightstand grabbing the letter opener that sat there and holding it up in an attempt to defend yourself.  

The man stood towering over you tilting his head in amusement and curiosity at you.

"What do you want!?"

He gave no answer, only stared. Your sobbing racked through your body as you shakily held up the small weapon.  "Please go away!" You said losing your edge.

He approached you slowly causing you to stumble back into the nightstand, tipping the lamp over.

He grabbed both your wrists and lifted you up off the ground. "No,no,no! Let me go!"

You thrashed and kicked in his hold accidently losing the letter opener.

Despite your struggling he stayed grounded and barely moved, still only tilting his head at you.

He seemed to get annoyed with you and released one of your wrists but still held you up by the other. His now free hand reached out and grabbed your face stopping it from moving and forcing you to look at him.

Your cries were muffled as he pinched your cheeks together and your hair, slick with blood covered your face as well.

He made an almost Displeased sound and set you down firmly but still held your arm tightly, grounding you almost so you couldn't escape, it didn't matter you were too scared too anyways. His hand released your face and moved to swipe away the hair, then gingerly brushed against the bloody bruise on your forehead. You hissed in pain and pulled back.

That upset him, because he grunted and tightened his grip on your arm, you clenched your jaw in pain but refrained from doing anything else in case it upset him further and he broke it.

His fingers trailed from your head injury down your face and rubbed away a few tears.

You allowed it to happen because, what else were you to do? But your eyes looked everywhere but him. Suddenly you felt him pull you closer and wrap his arms around you in a hug of sorts.

It wasn't very comfortable, he was too strong for something like this and dumbly unaware of it because you almost couldn't breath.

You felt him shuffle with you still pinned against him.

He adjusted so that he was sitting on the bed and you were in his lap. You gulped slightly once he finally freed you from the hug now he simply just stared at you and pet your hair.

"W….who...who are...who are you?" You shakily stuttered out, your eyes glancing up at him before quickly turning to look out the window.

The man gave no reply but simply cupped your cheek before taking one of your hands and placing it on his masked cheek.

"Do...do...you want me to take it o..off?.." He nodded slightly and you did so ever so carefully, Gasping a little when you saw his face.

"Michale?" You drew back slightly causing him to grab your waist and pull you closer.

"How...wh…" Your head was spinning more than before as you looked at him.

His face was rouged and stern looking but the moonlight that came through the window gave it a softer look.

"I'm...I'm sorry." You offered as your hand traced the scar across his eye. "I didn't...know….you scared me!" His head leaned into your touch the same way a cat would when you pet it. You felt a smile form at the corner of your mouth as he did so.

It must've felt nice, to have human touch after so long of being locked away.

"Yo! Y/n!?" The loud booming voice and knock on the door startled him causing him to grab your hand and rip it away from his face.

You glanced out the window seeing some of Pj's friends parked outside they banged in the door. "Y/n!? Pj sent us over here! Where are you!?"

You screamed as he tossed you off of him angrily.

"Michale, no! Stop!" He pulled a shiny butcher knife from the back of his jump suit and held it tightly.

"Michale please!please don't do this!" You got up and ran as he swiped at you, only making it a foot out the door before he grabbed you, covering your mouth and muffling your scream and he plunged the knife into you.

You fell back into his arms looking up at him, you choked on the air and looked up at him.

He scooped you up and placed you on the bed, you reached your hand up to his face one last time and kissed his cheek. You wheezed as he pulled the knife from you, he stood beside the bed watching you bleed out. "Goodbye Michael..." Feeling every part of you grow heavy, and darkness consumed your vision. The last thing you could see was him placing the mask back on before everything was completely black.

#horror x reader #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #horror imagine #michael myers x reader #dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader

[icollectyoursins]

Mer!Jotaro x Fem!Reader part 3

Alright, look! I had too many ideas to keep it to just 2 parts, so I wrote a third one. Enjoy the (hopefully) final chapter. Unless someone twists my rubber arm and asks for more.

Part 1   /   Previous   /    Latest

The breeding season was here, finally, after 1 and a half weeks of Jotaro preparing your nest and decorating the cave with everything you needed to prepare for his rut, he just needed a small stock of food to keep you two held over for the week and then he was done. You were left alone with your thoughts, for now, at least. He’d be back soon, so whatever you were doing, it had to be quick.

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Well, breeding obviously, lots of horny thoughts, masturbating (with a vagina), rubbing one out (with a vagina!), fingering, claws, making out, riding, cowgirl position, creampie. It doesn’t matter how old or what creature Jotaro is, he will always be a repressed teen on the inside.

Word Count: 1955

Rest and Reproduction Part 3

   The week passed by at what seemed like a snail's pace with nothing for you to do. The pelts had dried and were now placed around the corner in the cave in some kind of a nest. You currently wrapped one of them around you, playing with the smooth fur absently. Jotaro was out hunting or something, leaving you alone with nothing to keep you company but your thoughts, which were more lewd than you would have liked.

   You couldn’t get the image of his twin cocks spilling their white seed over your hand and his stomach. You almost wished they had made a mess somewhere else. And his face had looked so hot when he came. You should have done more. God, the idea of wrapping your lips around one of them while jerking off the other; his release making a mess of both your face as well as filling your stomach. It was too much. You hoped he came back soon.

   Heat pooled in your core. What was wrong with you? Your head was spinning with how much you wanted him. His smell drove you the most insane. He was, of course, salty but there was something alluring to it. When he was calm, you would nuzzle into his neck just to inhale his scent more. He would always tense under you, but never pushed you away. It did something to him, though you weren’t quite sure what.

   You shivered, missing his warmth. Pulling the pelts over you more just wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t hurt to rub one out, right? Would he be able to tell? Probably, you haven’t learned much about him, but you did know he had a sharp sense of smell. He would smell out what you had done in an instant. Then, that begged the question of: did you care? 

   Thoughts of him pressed up against you, fingers travelling down to your sopping entrance, gentle pressing into you. Fuck it. No, no you didn’t care!

   You pushed down your bottoms quickly, wasting no time pulling your folds apart with two fingers, using your middle one to slide against your slick. A gasp slipped from your lips. God, you were so wet. Slowly and gently, you danced your finger up and down, lightly flicking your clit with each stroke.

   Eventually, you got sick of that, moving on to rubbing small circles with two fingers, making you groan. Your mind drifted to Jotaro, well, his fingers specifically. Long and rough, pushing into your clit with each swirl. Your moans gradually got louder, the more your mind wandered. 

   Finally, you allowed yourself to slip inside, scissoring and stretching you open. Visions of him doing the same flickered over your eyelids. Oh, god! His fingers plunging into your warmth, curling forward to press into your sweet spot. His lips roughly kissing your collar bones, raking his teeth along you. 

   You called out his name, getting closer to your orgasm. A third finger was added as you picked up the pace, now getting a little more violent with your thrusts. You reached up to pinch a nipple, twisting harshly. An “oooohhhh” was cried out as you reached your release.

   Panting, you gradually came down from your high.

   “Ugh,” you groaned as you felt the wetness soak into some of the furs. Just as you were about to get dressed and clean up, you heard a splash from outside. Well, the cat would be out of the bag sooner than expected. 

   When Jotaro arrived the first thing he noticed was the smell. He stopped moving, staring directly at your small form standing butt naked at the back of the cave. It was at that moment that every ounce of his resolve crumbled. His rut had only just started, he thought he would have more control but then you...

   He slung the sack he had been carrying onto the rocks then crawled towards you, trying to hide how desperate he was. You stood still, a little shell shocked, but mostly you wanted him closer; to feel his smooth skin against you.

   “(Y/N),” he growled, unable to say anything else. His head was too fogged over with lust. You hummed, kneeling down to his level on the pelts. His black claws delicately trailed up your bare leg when he got to you. Softly, he removed your shirt, kissing a trail from your breast to your jaw. He was holding back, you could tell.

   One of Jotaro’s hands rested on your hip while the other propped himself up against the rock wall, leaning into you. His breath kissed your skin as he panted. You reached up to his face with a tender hand, cupping it while you pressed your lips into his. He groaned into you, pushing further before suddenly pulling back, clearly affected by your kind gesture.

  “(Y/N),” a groan passed over his lips as he said your name. “I can’t hold back anymore,” he growled, claws digging into your hip. He needed to fill you with his pups. Now.

   A smile twitched at the corner of your lips and you pulled him into another kiss, this time with more purpose. It started out soft, tender, then as your hand travelled down his chest it became more intense, enrapturing almost. Your minds were completely overtaken by lust as you pushed him onto his back, still captured in the kiss. 

   You wasted no time tossing your legs over him, sitting pleasantly in his lap while his lips engrossed you. Hips squirmed, rolling into each other for more friction. Finally, you two pulled back for air, staring into hazy eyes. Once again, you rolled your hips forward, bracing against his chest. You felt his twin cocks slide against your backside, begging for attention. 

   Jotaro’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you down to his lengths which curled against your wet folds. You gasped, sensitive from your quick session before. The tip of one lathered itself against your slick, while the other found its way to your rear. You let out a sound that was a mix of a whimper and a moan. He brought a hand up to your face, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

   The first cock gently slid itself into your cunt, spreading you open deliciously. Both of you moaned this time. It was as though you were made for him, greedily pulling his tapered length into you more. He didn’t put the whole thing in, though. No, he had other ways to fill you now. The second tip pressed itself into your ass gently, making you keen and whine.

   You almost lurched forward to stop it, but the hand that was on your face quickly returned to your hip, stopping you completely. He looked up at your pleading face, sweet and slightly scare. When he was sure you had stopped moving, he caressed your cheek again.

   “I’ll go slow,” was all he said. You felt the first cock twirl inside you, missing its twin. Your hands came up to hold his, pressing it further into your cheek. You nodded. Okay, as long as he was gentle he could do whatever he wanted; as long as you were safe. 

   While Jotaro was less than enthused to hold back more, he knew that hurting you unintentionally would be worse than anything else. He’d let you control it, for the most part, there would be less temptation that way. You held yourself still as his other tentacle teased your behind again, gently. His claws dug into your hips out of frustration making you wince. 

   You felt a warm substance slowly ooze onto your back door, strange but not entirely unwelcome. You assumed it was just pre, but then it started-for lack of another word-buzz. A shy gasp-moan passed over your lips. His eyes trailed down to where you two were currently connected, full of focus. He was left breathless at how good you looked spread out over him.

   Then, he let the tentacle gently squeeze into you. Both of you cried out at the feeling. Even though it was just the tip, the combination of both lengths spreading your insides was delicious. Slowly he pushed more in, pausing whenever he felt you tense or saw your face react in slight pain. You were more than thankful for his patience, however, he had it in him. 

   True to his private promise, he didn’t put the full length of both cocks in you, only about half of them for now. His eyes flicked up to you, taken aback by how stunning you looked with your face flushed, eyes closed tight. You leaned into his hand again, kissing the salty palm, practically breathless yourself. Feeling brave, you began to move your hips. 

   Again, you moaned together, pleasantly shocked by how good everything felt. The two cocks twirled against each other, rubbing your walls sweetly which made you cry out in unadulterated pleasure. You picked up the pace, grinding yourself down onto his lengths, letting go of his hand to gain more leverage. 

   Jotaro gripped your hips with both hands now, slightly shocked with how enthusiastic you were. Eventually, you found yourself bouncing on his cocks, moaning out his name over and over again. He did his best to keep up with you, but the more he thrust into you, the more he felt his control slipping. He took a deep breath, holding himself still for now. There would more time to be rough. Time to work up to filling you completely, time to train your holes to take his full-lengths, time to bend you over a rock and rut into you for the rest of eternity. 

   The more you bounce, the more of him you took, unconsciously spreading yourself open. He groaned, watching his members disappear again and again. His head tossed back, slowly but surely losing himself to pleasure. You were both getting close. You couldn’t wait to feel him fill you again, this time from both ends. Your riding became more vigorous, excited for that beautiful finish. 

   You felt the coil in your core tighten to the point of it being almost painful, eyes rolling back into your head. One of his thumbs slid down to your clit, rubbing it. It was too much at this point and you barreled over the edge, slamming your hips down onto him as you came for the second time. He followed soon after, enthralled by the way your walls contracted around him, pulling him in just a little deeper. 

   Jotaro finally released his seed, pouring into you delectably. You swear you felt your abdomen swelling from his release which was still going. The two of you panted, coming down from the high. His hand came up to where he was still filling you, running a gentle thumb over it. You made eye contact after that, staring at each other with a tenderness that had never been seen before. Despite that, you could tell he wasn’t done.

   Seed dribbled out of the edges of your cunt over his cocks making both of you shiver. Much to his disdain, you lifted yourself off of him, moaning at the fluid that fell out of you as well as the emptiness. You leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, relishing in the way he tensed under you. 

   “Let’s clean up a bit, hm?” You hummed. “Maybe eat something and then you can do whatever you want with me.”

   You swear you had never seen him move so fast, clearly eager to finish what you had started. You sat for a moment, watching him prepare whatever was in the sack, hand resting over your abdomen. Despite everything that had happened, you could get used to this.

#jotaro kujo x reader not sfw #jotaro kujo x reader n/s/f/w #jotaro kujo not sfw #jotaro kujo n/s/f/w #jotaro not sfw #jotaro kujo x reader n/sfw #jotaro x reader not sfw #jotaro x reader n/s/f/w #jotaro x reader n/sfw #jotaro n/s/f/w #jotaro n/sfw #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #mer!jotaro #shark!jotaro #jotaro prompts #monster prompts #mer prompts #not sfw

[whump-a-la-mode]

A Rather Odd Heist AKA The Trophy Room

Hi! I don’t know what this is and I have (at the time of writing) work in four hours! I had this idea in a daydream and just had to get it down in writing.

I apologize if the formatting is weird. I usually write in the tumblr text editor but this was written in docs.

CW//Threats, talk of injury, talk of disease, poison, death threats, descriptions of pain, restraints, medical emergencies, collars, chains, dehumanization, being kept as a trophy

    The wound felt like disease.

    It was a long slash, started at the front of Hero’s chest, just below the clavicle, and extending to the middle of their shoulder blade. The pain was white hot, tearing through skin and into sensitive flesh below, but more than that, even as the wound was carved, the feeling of infection, of poison, seeping in was overwhelming. 

    They lost the balance from the pain alone, slamming into the worn tile floor of the subway platform with a crack from their cheekbone. 

    Their assailant, on the other hand, landed with far more grace, on their feet. Hibou’s claws, wicked constructions of metal that had clearly recently been to the whetting stone, curled inwards towards their palm. Not far, though. The twelve inch long weapons constricted their movement, not that they minded. The aluminum feathers attached to their rust-painted goggles twitched with amusement.

    “I really thought they’d sent someone with a little more skill in… standing.” They smirked, though it stretched their mouth far too wide, enough to make Hero uncomfortable. “Do they not teach you that at HQ?”

    Hero grumbled out a half-hearted reply that even they were unable to make out. After a moment of catching their breath, they scrambled to their feet; every movement of their shoulder sending a new wave of agony through the marred flesh. 

    They met Hibou’s gaze (or, at least, the black lenses of their goggles), holding it for a long moment. The world around them took a shuddering breath as a weak gust of wind managed to find its way into the abandoned subway tunnel. 

    Through Hero’s mind ran half a dozen half-baked plans. Diversions and threats they could carry out, attacks they could make. None would work, certainly, but it occupied their panic-addled mind until the footsteps sounded behind them.

    They dared not spin around and let Hibou out of their sight, but they were acutely aware of the two pairs of feet, one on either side, approaching to surround them.

    “This one was spying.” Hibou glanced to one of the unseen figures, the one on Hero’s right. “And you know what they thought would be a good hiding spot? You wanna know?”

    “Course we wanna know.” The voice had a snakelike quality to it, hissed out between fangs.

    “The catwalk! The broken down catwalk. You always said that if anyone ever walked up there it’d fall, and guess what! You were right.”

    A barrier of cackling penned Hero in on all sides for a moment. The slash on their shoulder didn’t seem to be bleeding, but the pinpricks of disease refused to stop.

    “So, that begs the question.” Hibou continued. “What are we going to do with them?”

    Hero felt as though a wire was tightened around their neck. In a motion that surprised even themself, they leapt onto the tracks, running along the rusty metal for a moment before attempting to struggle their way out of the other side.

    The cold, scaly hand gripped them before they had any chance to do so. With a horrifying strength, and a bold show of it, the hand threw them up, slamming them onto their back. A clawed hand pressed to their chest, foot-long blades threatening to prick into their skin. Those rusty goggles stared down at them in a way that seemed almost playful.

    It was supposed to be a simple mission, they couldn’t help but recall as they lay there, well-sharpened blades likely only a few inches of flesh away from their rapidly beating heart. 

    Despite their seniority within the Heroes’ Organization, the amount of solo missions they were assigned to was low. Extremely so. Even lower than that of some of the recruits and cadets. Most would have been bothered by the fact-- fearing that their superiors thought them to be worthless or not good enough. That fear didn’t apply to Hero, however.

    No. They knew exactly why they spent most of their days stalking around base, chatting with the medical staff or the engineers.

    After all, healing powers wouldn’t get you very far in a fight.

    Hell, they hadn’t even been supposed to go on this particular spying mission in the first place. Yet, of course, the cadet who was meant to take the simple job had broken their leg in a training accident. 

    It had sounded simple. Almost deceptively so-- as if there should have been something more to the whole thing. But, no. It was exactly as easy as it had been drawn out to be. Sneak into the villains’ temporary base, find out their numbers and exactly what kind of weaponry they possessed, and report back.

    They could have done it in an afternoon. But they just had to have taken the chance with the catwalk. They could have run, they’d had the chance, but…

    They’d been too scared. That was the other reason they were always stuck at base. They were a coward. The mission directors knew it.

    “What, hey, don’t die on me yet. That’d be boring.”

    Hibou’s voice cut through their swirling thoughts. Their eyes focused on the empty goggles looming above them.

    “And I hate when things are boring. So, answer my question.”

    “I- w- wh-”

    “Ugh. I said, what should we do with you?”

    “L- L-”

    “Come on, use your words.”

    “Let me go.” It croaked out of their parched throat like a forced tear. “Please.”

    “Oh, well, since you said please…” They rolled their eyes. “How about this. Let’s put it to a vote. This is a democracy, after all.”

    Next to Hibou’s goggled face appeared two more. One sharp and scaled around the eyes, the other with hair that hung down in wet mats. Akula and Zema. 

    “So, guys, what do you think? What should we do with them?”

    Hero felt to be a rabbit surrounded by cats.

    “Hey, boss?” Zema-- the scaled one-- spoke up. “What’s that on their shoulder?”

    “Hm?” Though their eyes could not be seen, Hero just knew that, in that moment, they lit up. “Oh, that. Now that is a good idea, Zema.”

    “Wh- What did you do to me!” Hero fought to jerk upwards, but was only met with a sharp hand forcing them back down. 

    “Oh, you know…” Hibou raised their other hand, the one not holding their captive down. The claws curled into as close to a fist as they could get. “When you came in to interrupt me and my work, I was just finishing up a special batch of… hm… what would a layman call it. A biopoison, I believe.”

    Hero choked.

    “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that, huh? That’s what you get for interrupting my work.”

    “So… they’re just gonna die?” Akula questioned.

    “Hm? Oh, I mean, without intervention, yes. Not immediately, though I could arrange that.” Ever so slightly, the claws moved towards Hero’s neck. “I guess we should probably just do that.”

    “W- Wait!” Hero gasped. “If it’s going to, uh, if it’s going to kill me anyways, then why not just let me go? It doesn’t matter either way, right?”

    Hibou smiled that horrible, wide smile.

    “You know, the little coward has a point. That’d be a lot more fun. You don’t want to die, though, do you?”

    One of those claws curled beneath Hero’s chin, forcing it upwards with the blunt end. It didn’t cut, but they knew that with any false move, it would.

    “No.” They managed to croak out.

    “So… hm. There’s something you want, and you can only get it from me. And, well, now that I think about it, there might just be something that you have that I want. Now, that sounds like a fair trade, doesn’t it?”

    “What is it? Please, anything. A- anything.”

    “That’s what I’d hoped you’d say. Hero, I think you know exactly what I want.”

    “N- No. I don’t.”

    “Of course you do.” The claw pushed their chin up even further, pressing the back of their head against the tile. “I want my kid back.”

    Hero’s eyes widened. They felt bile rise in their throat.

    “I can’t.”

    “Well, then, you’ll die. Easy as that.”

    “W- Wait-”

    “To me, it sounds like a very fair trade, Hero. We’ve had to spend so long watching our friend suffer… slowly rot away. And now, your friends will have to do the same. It’ll be easier for you, though. Your eyes will melt out of your skull far before the real gross stuff happens.”

    Hero gulped, feeling their throat press far too close to Hibou’s claws.

    “Is there any other way?”

    “Hmm… No. I don’t think so. Here’s my final offer, right now: You bring me my kid back. They’ll know where to find me. Then, I give you the antidote. Either that, or I cut your head off, here and now. I’ll even mail it back to your HQ, just as a little gift.”

    “I-”

    Hero felt their chest shudder. The sweat dripping from their forehead had long since dampened their hair. It was supposed to be a simple mission. Just some recon. Just a simple mission.

    But…

    “Okay. I accept.”

    “Good.”

    The pressure lifted almost immediately, finally allowing Hero to once again breathe. They scrambled to their feet, and were almost halfway out of the abandoned platform when they heard Hibou yell from behind:

    “The rash should start in about twelve hours! Just so you know!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    It was the nature of a hunter to keep trophies of those that they had killed.

    Of course, not in the wild. In the wild, animals were simply content to fill their bellies. The only trophy needed of their hunting was the fact that they were still well and alive.

    Humans, however, did not have such a luxury. Survival was not a prize to be shown off. So, other methods had to be found. Trophies had to be taken. 

    Taken and displayed.

    No one questioned the scarf that Hero had wrapped tightly about their neck, despite the fact that it was the dead of summer. They had no time to question it. The other inhabitants of the Headquarters of the Heroes’ Organization had their own duties to complete, and not a second to spare in completing them.

    So, Hero found no difficulty in walking through the front doors, every step they took threatening to aggravate the already agonizing wound on their shoulder. 

    After a few steps, they found themself in the center of the entrance lobby, legs stiffened. Hibou’s words echoed in their mind, sharper than their blades, as their head tipped upwards. Their gaze raised to the trophy room.

    That was what everyone called it, anyways. It wasn’t so much of a room as much as it was a glass cylinder, sticking out from the railing of the upper floor. On first seeing it, cadets often panicked, fearing that it would fall at any moment. It appeared simply that precarious, even though it was, supposedly, practically indestructible. Even the glass itself was rated to withstand nuclear attack.

    There was a reason for that.

    The cylinder was rather large, maybe 20 feet in diameter. However, the vast majority of it was taken up by chains-- four of them, one from each side. Heavy iron things, each link likely too heavy to be lifted on its own. The four chains all converged at one point in the center.

    The trophy.

    Villain wasn’t a particular strong person. They may have been before their capture, but any strength they had had been long since drained away. They weren’t particularly tall, to begin with, but from the angle, they looked miniscule.

    The iron collar around their neck, resting heavily on their shoulders and collarbone, was the center point of the chains. Each hooked onto one side of the collar.

    Villain’s seated position pulled the chains practically completely taut, the weight of iron resting completely and totally on their neck. The pressure would have been less had they stood, but they had stopped doing that a long time ago.

    The grey cotton prisoner uniform had about as much color to it as their face.

    Hero couldn’t say they knew the story of Villain’s capture, nor what had warranted it. The trophy room had been there as long as they had been part of the organization. They supposed it was odd, just how quickly they had gotten used to it. The trophy room and the trophy it held were simply a part of HQ.

    If Villain were to disappear for a second, everyone in the building could and would notice it. 

    Hibou’s kid… Of course, they were truly related. They seemed about the same age. But the fondness with which those horrid villains spoke about their friend…

    Hero shook their head. If they kept acting like this, they’d get dragged to the infirmary with a thermometer shoved in their mouth in an instant. They began forward again, headed towards the staging room.

    They didn’t have any missions scheduled for the day, not that they knew of at least, and they were glad for that. Still, they had their unofficial duty, preparing the other heroes for their missions. 

    The staging room sat behind a pair of steel doors, requiring a retina scan to pass through, which Hero passed easily. The doors slid open as they stepped through, already feeling a dozen pairs of eyes lock to them. 

    Colloquially, the place was often referred to as the locker room, both literally and as a joke. Lockers lined the walls, while benches filled the rest, except for at the very front, where a pair of tables were well stocked with snacks, drinks, and basic medical supplies.

    After a second, most of the heroes looked down, having been satisfied that there was no threat. The only one that kept their head up was Teammate, who quickly waved Hero over. They obliged without thinking, sitting next to them on their bench. 

    “What’s up?” Hero questioned. Teammate didn’t respond for a moment, as they were pulling a sweater off over their head. When they were finished, they replied:

    “Eh, I’m good. What’s with the scarf?”

    “‘Tis called fashion.”

    “Fair enough.”

    “Where are you headed out to?”

    “Patrolling a hospital, they had a threat or something. You?”

    “I don’t do missions.” They did their best to accompany it with a smile.

    “You did yesterday, didn’t you?”

    “Yeah.”

    “How’d that go?’

    “Eh, it was fine. Spying missions are boring.”

    “There’s no lie there. Anyways, um, when I was fighting yesterday I kinda got this cut-”

    “Where?”

    “Right here, on my leg.”

    Teammate leaned down, rolling up one of their pant legs to knee height. Sure enough, across their shin, a wicked scar carved its red mark. Hero hardly thought about it as they placed a hand on the wound.

    A green glow emanated from their palm, flowing and wrapping around the injured leg. The wound’s ragged edges solidified with scar tissue, before knitting themselves together.

    It was so simple. A grievous wound, dealt with in an instant.

    Of course, that was all they could do. Healing powers weren’t magic, not really. They couldn’t bring back the dead. They could only accelerate what the body already had the ability to do. A cold? Gone in a second? A biopoison?

    Well, they couldn’t bring back the dead.

    The wound finished its knitting, and Hero withdrew their hand. Teammate offered a quick smile, speaking:

    “Thanks so much, see ya’ later!”

    Before running off. Off on a mission. Off doing something important.

    Something good.

    Hero slumped forward on the bench, feeling a horrible exhaustion overtake them. When the call for their help came, they weren’t exactly surprised. It was quick, short, simply:

    “Is Hero here? I need Hero.”

    They raised their head, expecting to see a cadet who had hit their arm or something.

    Instead, standing halfway in the doorway, face a mask of panic, stood a person in a lab coat. They clutched themself, arms around their chest, trembling visible from halfway across the room. They met Hero’s gaze.

    “Come on, come on. Quickly, please.”

    There was nothing in their voice but panic. Even urgence was drowned out by sheer fear. Hero was on their feet in an instant, on the heels of the doctor who was moving at the same speed. They ran, together, all the way to the medical wing, on the other side of the floor.

    From there, they moved along a small catwalk, leading to-

    Hero didn’t even look up to realize the destination until they were already there.

    The only access to the trophy room was a small, horribly narrow catwalk. A horde of doctors was already flooding it, but they moved out of Hero’s way without question. The first doctor stopped in front of the door to the glass cylinder, which was sealed with just about every type of lock known to man.

    “They’re unresponsive.” The explanation was quick, curt. “Do you know how to put on a hazmat suit?”

    “What?”

    “Do you know how to put on a hazmat suit?”

    “I-”

    “Here, here, I-”

    “Why do I need a hazmat suit!”

    “It’s not safe in there, you can’t go in without one.”

    Hero’s gaze darted to the interior of the cylinder. Half of the chain had gone taut, while the other two were slack, on account of the fact that Villain had slumped over, all their weight supported only by the collar around their neck. In the little visible skin that the collar revealed, horrible red marks could be gleaned.

    “They look like they’re dead.” They whispered in horror. “Why do I need a hazmat suit?”

    “Their powers, they’ll hurt you.”

    “Even when they’re unconscious?”

    “Well, no, but-”

    Hero’s hands latched onto one of the padlocks, straining against it, trying to pull the metal apart. It did nothing, of course. They didn’t have superstrength. But it simply felt like the right thing to do.

    Eventually, someone handed them a key, then another, and another after that, until every lock on the door was opened. They swung it open, leaping inside, heart in their ears. Every panicked beat sent a new shock of diseased pain through their shoulder.

    Ducking and stepping over chains, they maneuvered until they were at Villain’s side. Their first thought was to check for a pulse-- it was weak, but there.

    They gritted their teeth.

    Hero was going to save Hibou’s kid, and by god, neither of them were going to die.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #hero whumpee #villain whumpee #powered whumpee #whump trope #whump prompt #hero villain trope #hero villain prompt

[shoichee]

Hello! Can I perhaps ask for no. 28. “Make me” from your prompt list for my beloved Imayoshi? It's so nice seeing him here on your theme and avatar and that pERFECT url, it feels like I finally found my people.

HELLO HELLO, and YES I WAS SO SURPRISED THAT NO ONE TOOK THIS URL... considering that it was just an alternative spelling of shoichi and its a rlly short handle too mwehe // im sort of a particular person when it comes to how something looks, whether itd be outfits, drawings, coloring, and the UI of a blog, u name it.... i may have spent hours trying to have the perfect colors for this theme PLEASEEEE, but without further ado here is our man, our little shit, Imayoshi

@knb-kreations howdy! another new work posted here!

Imayoshi x Reader

28. “Make me”

Word Count: 2331

prompt list here

»»—————　☼　—————««

Imayoshi doesn’t exactly know how he feels about you.

Scratch that, he does know. He’s quite amused at the shenanigans you pull on others around you, and a lot of times, you actually elicit a few dry laughs out of the guy. Other times though, he’d wish that you would just shut the fuck up, especially when all he hears amidst his studying was your loud “whispering” and “hushed” jokes. How you were always nearby no matter where he is was still a mystery that he casually ponders about from time to time. Perhaps your natural tendency to project your voice creates the illusion that you were near when you really weren’t?

No matter, such trivial thoughts can’t occupy his mind when college entrance exams loom closer. Then again, they weren’t particularly difficult; they were simply a hassle to secure near-perfect scores, especially when his chances of admittance rely critically on how well he does.

“That’s an awful drawing of a samurai,” Susa comments, snapping Imayoshi out of idle thought.

“Ho? Is it really terrible if you were able to tell what it is?” Imayoshi chuckles. “The point of a drawing is to convey the right idea or emotion. It seems that my drawing skills hit a bulls-eye with this sketch, no?” He playfully spins his pencil around, patiently waiting for his reply to goad him.

All Susa does in response is to roll his eyes before he turns his full attention back to his notes. He knows better than to try a comeback against Imayoshi, who can easily make it backfire against the person with a pleasant close-eyed smile. Imayoshi, seeing Susa’s nonverbal resign from engaging further banter, also looks down back to his book of scribbled notes and chicken-scratch drawings before he exhales an inaudible sigh.

School just doesn’t cut out to be mentally stimulating for him. It’s a little too repetitive and mundane for his taste.

“Argh!! Oh no!” your voice rang out, despite your poor attempt to be reasonably quiet. “I forgot applications for the Coca-Cola scholarship are due today!”

Coca-Cola… what?

Everyone looks up to warily eye you, and your few friends, who are currently rushing to pull you down and slap their hands over your mouth to mute you, were panicking at the new attention you managed to garner. Even still, your mind seems more fixated on whatever was on the laptop’s screen, rather than what they were doing to you.

Imayoshi can’t help but stifle his audible mirth from how you manage to change the mood of the entire library within seconds.

“How do you even forget something as important as a huge scholarship like that?” Susa says in dismay. “Makes me kind of wonder how (l/n) would handle life after graduation, to be honest.”

“Well,” Imayoshi begins. “I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s best not to underestimate (l/n)-san. Surely we’ve learned our lesson with Seirin?” He toys with the pencil grip before he sporadically draws some lines loosely resembling another sketch.

“Drawing again?” Susa raises a brow. “Have you even been studying?”

“Well,” he replies. “There’s still plenty of time before exams—months to be exact. Could you even study with the current distractions in here?” At his own words, he nudges his chin in your direction.

“It’s not just any exams though, it’s—”

“Whether they have more importance or not doesn’t really concern me. After all, standardized testing isn’t worth stressing out for when we’ve taken essentially the same thing all our lives.”

“What most are worried about is the content inside the exams, Imayoshi,” he said, carefully treading into dangerous waters with Imayoshi’s tendency to take all replies as mind-game challenges for his own amusement.

“‘If you have been paying attention consistently throughout the year, you wouldn’t be having much trouble…’ that’s what you once oh-so-wisely said to Wakamatsu yesterday, hmm?” His mimicking tone drips a hint of arrogance. “Unless you mean to tell me my ears do not work? But by all means, please feel free to correct me.”

“That’s different,” he sighed, his face clearly evident that he was done with Imayoshi’s shit. “That exam only tested content for the past year, not your entire academic repertoire over the courses of middle and high school.”

“I’d like to think that the logic still applies the same way.”

“Well,” Susa heaves with a languid stretch. “You generally score better on the exams than me, so you’re probably right. Still, don’t neglect your studying.”

“Right, right, Susa-senpai~”

“... Please don’t call me that again.”

“... If you say so,” he said, but his smile blatantly showed his real intentions of never stopping his irritable quips. Susa gets ready to pack up his book bag before he heads out the door with a friendly wave. Imayoshi half-heartedly returns the gesture with a casual wave of his own. He immediately notices you also packed up and about to leave with a worried frown, and of course, while audibly mumbling your concerns and makeshift schedules to accommodate time for last-minute essay writing. By now, all of your friends have left for home.

“Ah, biology lab due next week, kanji worksheets due tomorrow, hmm, um, how would I finish this on time… ah, calculus test is tomorrow too, ah shit… should I ask someone to tutor?—ah, but it’s super last minute, and there’s still that scholarship… argh, fuck!” Your voice peaked in volume at the end, and the librarian immediately shot daggers at you.

“Shhhhh!”

“A-Ah! S-Sorry, sorry!”

Imayoshi was watching you with his chin on his arm propped up on the desk, unable to control the smile that escaped his lips. You really were entertaining to watch, and you never cease to bore him.

He turns away to crack his neck and roll it around before methodically packing up his writing utensils and notebooks. Soft shuffling filled the air as he rearranged the items inside his bag. As he turns to pack the last thing on the table, which happened to be the notebook filled with his idle doodling, his face slightly softens at the drawing he did after the samurai. Yes, the one Susa chastised him for when he could’ve been studying. Yes, perhaps he was right when he was terrible at drawing after all; your panicked face and wild hand gestures didn’t really translate well into paper, and it looked a little too much like a horror comic and less than a sketch of you. Still, he’s oddly proud of it.

Imayoshi promptly pushes the chair in and leaves the library, but when he rounds the corner of the adjacent hallway, he bumps into you.

“Er—hi! I mean, please, uhhh… if it isn’t too much to ask—canyoupleasetutormeforthecalculustesttomorrowbecausemyfinalgradedependsonthat?”

Imayoshi winces at the sheer volume of your voice and plugs his ears in out of habit to block out some of the decibels. Wakamatsu was eerily similar to you in that regard. Only difference between the two of you was that you were deceptively intelligent. Extremely so.

“My, my, if it isn’t (l/n)-senpai!” He fakes a surprised look, earning him an eye roll on your end. “You need someone like me to teach you the works?”

“I—what? We’re literally in the same calc class, Imayoshi,” you retort. “Besides, drop the ‘senpai’ honorific. It feels so slimy when you say it so disingenuously… Aren’t we both 3rd years too?”

“I’m so hurt,” he mocks. “What if I was really genuine with you?”

“Look, right now, no remarks from you, Evil Glasses,” you say. “It’s really, really urgent and I don’t know how to grasp the material for the class lately, plus my essay, ugh…” You rub your fingers against your temples in an attempt to make the stressful headaches disappear while Imayoshi simply watches with his eyes slightly open.

“... You usually do well on all your exams, no? Unless my eyes and memory fail me.” It was true; even though you were as loud-mouthed as Wakamatsu, you would often shock a lot of people when your name always appeared in the higher percentiles of exam results. Apparently most students and teachers associate your rowdy personality with an expected subpar academic performance. He has you to thank for when your score reports always cause reactions of utter disbelief from the teachers. You really do liven up the school and make it a lot more unorthodox.

“I guess…” you mumble. “But I really wanna do especially well for this one because math is my weakest subject, and you always score the highest for these types of exams, so…”

“It may be my best subject,” he says, leaning slightly closer to your face. “But I’m not the one with the highest scores in any math subjects throughout these years, and we both know that quite well, don’t we, (l/n)? Why don’t you come clean about the real reason why you’re here?”

“Oh my literal fuck—Imayoshi, you’re one of the best students in calc right now regardless of exam results,” you petulantly huffed, not backing down from his intimidation. Imayoshi notes your cheeks reddening, and he figured it was either because of the close proximity between your faces or the fact you were frustrated… perhaps both. “And you’re the only one around here on campus who I could ask!”

“Really now,” he chimes, moving closer to whisper in your ear. “Are you sure?” With incoherent stammers, you backed away from him, slapping your hands against both of your ears to protect them.

“W-W-What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Looks like I won this one, (l/n)-san,” he purrs, relishing the fact that only he could render you this quiet. “Ho? What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“I—Shut up!” you lamely shoot back. “You can just say no if you really don’t wanna do this—urgh, I’m leaving, I’m not gonna waste any more time—”

“How hurtful,” he dryly remarks, standing up straight again after leaning for a quite a while. “It’s almost as if you’re rejecting me~” He knew you would always take his bait and quip back (unlike Susa), regardless of whether or not you tell him that you weren’t going to engage further.

“As if,” you snorted, making another exaggerated eye roll. “You’re the last person who would ever be hurt from this.”

“Dear me!” he exclaims. “Have you ever considered that perhaps I don’t help out people for free? Did you think I would be a gracious, selfless person who would help you like a saint?”

“Okay, fine! Perhaps I didn’t think that far ahead, okay? You just were the first person that came to mind, and I thought asking you wouldn’t hurt.” His smirk widens almost maliciously at your words, lips already opening to deliver another irritating quip before you immediately spoke again to stop him. “Okay, Imayoshi, you little shit, just shut up—I don’t wanna hear anything from your mouth right now.”

“I don’t see any reason why I should listen to you at all,” he muses. “Why don’t you make me?” He has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, eagerly eyeing your next move, and as he expected, you let out a frustrated noise that prompted passerby students to shoot pointed looks towards the both of you.

What he didn’t expect was for you to take a huge step towards him, unceremoniously pull him down to your level, and press a reverberating smack on his lips. His eyes are immediately blown wide open to look at your embarrassed, but determined face. His fingers unconsciously move to touch his warmed lips.

“... That was quite romantic, wasn’t it, (l/n)?” he dryly says, recovering almost immediately from the shock. All the other students fled from the blatantly bold scene to save face. Not that Imayoshi really cared.

“Okay, you know what? Bye, I’m not gonna play anymore mind games with you,” you grumble. “Essays and studying aren’t gonna be done by themselves—wah!”

Imayoshi gently tugs you back to reciprocate back a kiss, meticulously slipping his hands behind your head and on your waist to accommodate you. Your eyes are completely open from the shock that the Imayoshi Shoichi was actually kissing you. You don’t close your eyes from the sensation, completely entranced when you make eye contact with his half-lidded eyes watching your every reaction closely. The kiss ended all too soon, and Imayoshi separates himself from you, secretly admiring your dazed look.

“That was quite a strong reaction to just a simple kiss.”

“I—that was not just a ‘simple kiss!’”

“Now would you like to tell me the true reason why you approached me?”

“You’re… insinuating that you know something.”

“Well we wouldn’t know unless you come clean,” Imayoshi purrs. “I can sometimes be wrong too.”

“Ugh, what the hell—fine, I am quite enamored by you, and uh, I… find it infuriating to be with you, but it also gives me butterflies… so I thought I could be with you more… if I asked you—don’t get it twisted, though! I still need your help to study!...” He covers his mouth to suppress a laugh at your honesty.

“Was it really so hard to say that in the beginning, (l/n)-san?”

“Okay, that’s it! I’m really, really leaving! Fuck off, Imayoshi, I swear to—”

“Ho? Just a minute, darling~” he tuts, reaching to hold your hand. “Perhaps if you offer more kisses as an incentive, I’d be more inclined to offer my expertise.”

“How quaint,” you dryly reply. “It’s almost as if we’re in a relationship.”

Imayoshi can’t help but bark out a genuine laugh. You even managed to pick up some of his mannerisms so quickly.

“That’s an interesting proposal, (l/n),” he murmurs. “Should we try that?” You tut at him irritatedly as you tug your interlocked hands while speed-walking ahead.

“Hurry up, or I’ll consider breaking up with you right now.”

“Ah ha!~” he chuckles at your attitude. “How mean, (l/n)-san! Too bad that we both know that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

#ask #narnvaeron #knb #knb scenarios #kuroko no basket #imayoshi shouichi #imayoshi shoichi #imayoshi x reader #imayoshi #knb fic #knb fluff #100 followers #100 follower milestone

[toricrypticice]

The Golden Scarred

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Chapter Four (Messy Memories)

Hunter woke up feeling heavy and out of it. He blinks trying to adjust to his surroundings. 

This couldn’t be right.

 He sits up from his bed. He was back in the covens palace? His room. 

“What?-

 ..Was it all just- a dream?”

 He seemed confused and a small bit hopeful. He stands looking around the room, feeling happy until he notices Rascal isn’t on his desk. In fact the Palisman was nowhere in sight. His heart stops

 “Rascal? “ he calls, but is met by the silence of the room. He starts to look around where the Palisman usually hides.

  “Rascal!?” He sounded a bit more desperate as he tried to keep his voice down not wanting to be caught . Hunter tore through the papers on his desk, even pulling everything off his bookcase and kneeling to look under the bed. He stands panting, feeling panicked as he opens his door. He runs out into the hall frantic to find the small bird. 

“RASCAL?!!” 

He calls out helplessly, losing all composure. Only to notice he wasn’t in the hallway. He takes a breath. He was in the main throne room now. 

The Titans heart beating loudly. 

“What- but I was-“ he mumbles confused and still a little frantic. 

“Hunter” 

The voice stopped him dead and his eyes widened with fear. He felt smaller as Belos towered over him.

 “You need to be taught that there are dire consequences for your actions” 

The words were familiar. 

Bitter. 

Cold. 

He knew this. 

He knew this all too well. 

He wanted to run away 

To stop what he knew would happen. . 

But his feet stayed planted in place. 

 Belos lashed towards him. The glimpse of a haunted smirk gracing his features as he advances on the boy. 

Hunter doesn't move as he feels a sharp pain pool through his jaw. The feeling of something sharp slicing through the area deeply making his vision swim and his breath hitch. 

-…

The sound of Belos sighing as he sits down. 

“See what you made me do….”

Hunter pulls himself off the floor, sniffing as blood pools from his face. He tried to will away the hot tears that fell down his cheeks to no avail. He covers the gash feeling shakey as he kneels in front of the throne. “I-I’m sorry E-Emperor Belos“ 

“Tsk, and to cry after punishment…

Such an embarrassment “

 Belos tuts before he stands. Hunter looks down, staring at his feet, the males words piercing his very being. Belos steps forward, his footsteps making Hunter’s shoulders quiver in anticipation. He shuts his eyes expecting another blow. There was the sound of something metal clattering in front of the younger male. 

“Stand up and Hide your shame. “ 

Hunter looks down to see the shiny gold mask he knew so well. 

He frowns. 

This is where everything changed. 

He wanted to scream, 

to throw it, 

to stop what was happening and leave it in the past.

 But instead he stares at the mask before his fingers wrap around the cold metal as he slips it over his blood soaked face nodding up at Belos. 

“You’ll now be known as The Golden Guard now so no more slipping up.. you are a face to our coven. 

You understand?”

Belos lays a hand on the males shoulder. 

“You need to be better, the titan knows you are better. “

 Hunter has to stop himself from crying as his cheek throbs, blood dripping down underneath the mask.

Not this again. 

Please

His heart pounds heavily as he looks up at his uncle. 

“I only do this because I care” Belos’ squeezes his shoulder forcefully making it ache slightly. Almost as a sick way of showing affection. 

Hunter puts his head down smiling brightly as he blushes at the older males words feeling bashful. 

 He remembered being so happy when Belos said that.  

Now the smile on his face seemed to hurt.

“Yes of course, “ Hunter states distantly. 

“You’re not even listening, of course I’d get stuck with you on this?!”

Hunter looked back quickly to see he was now standing with Lilith in the forest. His uncle's hand gone from his shoulder, the pressure and pain in his face fading. Hunters voice came without him willing. 

“Yeah well you better not screw this up Belos is counting on us to deliver” he snaps as his feet move forward with purpose. He felt agitated. 

Why was this happening again!?

Lilith laughs cockily. “Of course I’ve trained my life for The Emperor's Coven- “she goes to boast but Hunter cuts her off smirking cockily. 

“Unlike you I was chosen by the Titan, they already know what I’m capable of. Unlike you I don’t have to prove anything” he laughs walking ahead of the female, the words leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

 It was a lie. 

Such a lie. 

He was constantly trying to prove himself. 

Always striving to be better. 

He had to.

He was The Golden Guard after all. 

“Spoiled brat!” Lilith snaps

Hunter turns angrily about to quip only to see he was now standing above Kikimora. He blinks in confusion, his head felt like it was spinning. 

“What the powerful Golden Guard thinks he’s worth something? “ Kiki mocking tone was evident. 

He remembered this..

This was after..

Hunter grit his teeth feeling all the anger fill him “i matter to Belos,  unlike you” he snaps. 

Kikimora only laughs “you keep telling yourself that. But you're just a spoiled brat that he takes pity on. What part could you possibly play in the Titans will? ” She smirks. 

Hunter held his ground but the words cut deep. He did wonder, ‘what part did he play in all this?’

“You're just a child” Kikimora chuckles darkly.

Hunter felt his blood boil as his ears ring. 

A child! 

That’s all anyone ever saw him as! 

He clenches his jaw as his eye throbs in irritation. 

“Watch your mouth, I am your superior and you shall treat me as such” He glares, deciding to remain formal knowing Belos’ might be listening. Kikimora only seemed to laugh, it started as a low chuckle but then got a bit more deranged making Hunter feel a bit uncomfortable as he grips his staff holding his own. 

“You think You’re all that but I'll rid you easily.” She chuckles starting to walk off as Hunter Growls loudly.

“Is that a threat!” He snaps only to be met with the Humans look of disappointment as he stands over her, staff ablaze. 

He takes a step back, eyes wide. 

‘What- Again’

Back to another memory,

 the Palisman mission.

But this was different. 

There was no Kiki. 

He was yielding Rascal as his staff instead. 

No other Palisman in sight

“You’re not my friend you’re just The Golden Guard” 

The words stung for some reason Hunter couldn’t understand then or now. 

But before he can reply like he did in the past Luz starts to melt into the floor becoming nothing but goo. Everything around him becoming a dark black sludge melting down into the earth. He gasps as Rascals wood cracks, the bird tweeting in pain before his staff turns to dust in his hands. He stares wide-eyed in fear, his hands shaking as he feels tears fall. 

No No No

That didn’t just happen?!

He didn’t-

There’s a rumble in the ground below his feet causing him to fall back. The sticky black substance soaking his clothes and hair. 

‘This never happened?!’ He panics

Hunter pants trying to get up as muddled hands rise from the sludge grabbing onto his shoulders, his cape, his hair, anywhere they could get their hands on, soaking him in the dark liquid. He coughs gagging as he sinks deeper, the substance making its way into his mouth.  

He couldn’t breathe. 

He choked back the bitter heavy muck as he wrestled to stay above. 

He tries to call out.

 To fight his way out of the thick liquid. 

“You’d be such a hassle to replace…” 

Hunter's eyes widened and all the fight in him seemed to leave immediately. He lets his body sink into the dark muck, only his mask staying above as he slips further down. The blackened sludge finally filling his lungs, the words echoing as his vision goes dark. 

Black. 

Only Black. 

And then...

“BOOM”

 The sound vibrates off his skull painfully as his ears ring. 

He gasps loudly as his eyes shoot open, sitting up quickly when he realizes there’s nothing holding him down. 

“Gah-“ he grips his side in pain as it flares up by the sudden action. His head pounding as his vision swims. 

“Titan” he pants still catching his breath as sweat pools down. What a nightmare.. Now where was he? 

He could recall what happened. 

He betrayed Belos 

His side hurt. 

He knew that much.

And he had slept. Which was- weird?

 He shakes his head to rid the dream trying to get a grip on reality as he looks around. He was resting on something soft. Nicer than the coven beds. He looks around to see he was in somewhere slightly familiar- 

Someone’s home 

“ah?” He grits his teeth as his fingers graze a fresh gauze bandage wrapped nice and secure around the male torso, way better than something he could ever do on his own. 

That’s when he remembered and his blood ran cold. His eyes widen and his heart skipped a beat as terror sunk in. 

He was in the owl lady’s home! 

She had helped him!  

He let the enemy help him?!  

How degrading.. 

He was more of a traitor than he first thought, 

He stands up only to immediately fall to his knees when he loses his footing. “Ugh” he huffs at himself holding his side as it throbs, his vision swimming. 

“Hey i hear you're awake I brought some-“ there was a gasp and the sound of a tray being put down before he was helped to his feet and back onto the couch. 

When his vision focuses he sees the worried human standing infront of him. “You gotta be careful. Eda says you have a lot of internal damage and a slight concussion. “

“What-?” Hunter was bewildered at a loss of words. What was this- He takes a breath to sort himself. “What do you want with me? If you're looking for leverage against Belos you can-”

“Whoa whoa whoa” Luz cuts him off as she puts her hands up in defense. She laughs softly. “You just woke up. Plus We are only trying to help you-” this time Hunter cuts her off.

“Why?!” Hunter snaps loudly, holding his head as it spins badly, his ears seemed to ring. “Why are you helping me?! What does this- “ Hunter takes a deep breath as the room starts to spin. 

“Easy easy, look Lilith was in the Emperor’s coven and she told us- look we know you need help just let us help." Luz hums smiling at the male. “I brought some food and some water for you, Eda went out for medicine so its just me and King-”

The rest of Luz’ words seemed to fade off as those words hit him. Eda was going into town just for him. To help… Hunter shook his head feeling guilty and angry. 

“Town! Its crawling with coven scouts. How will she defend without magic? ” Hunter states, raising an eyebrow. 

“Awe you care” Luz teases  with a big smile to which Hunter's face turns a dark red as he scoffs. 

“What- no i just-” Hunter growls in annoyance looking away. “I just think its stupid... She’s a stupid witch” he adds as he crosses his arms pouting. 

Luz laughs, smiling.

“Yeah yeah anyway make sure you eat.” She gestures to the tray heading to the door. Hunter frowns seeing flashes of his dream. 

“Human, how long have I been asleep?” Hunter absentminded taps on the arm of the couch as he questioned the girl.  

Luz seems to tense a little at the question as she freezes looking a bit worried. 

“Um only 27 hours haha but Eda said-”

“What-! I wasted so much time” He sits straighter. “Belos is-”Hunter's words stop as his eyes widen and he stands quickly, his legs wobbling. “Where’s Rascal!?” He demands, trying to hide the desperation that leaked out.

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#the Golden scarred #the golden guard #hunter toh #hunter #luz nuceda #eda the owl lady #eda #toh #the owl house

[kinglazrus]

Double Date

Phic Phight

Submitted by @ghostgothgeek: Danny/Sam and Johnny/Kitty double date

Summary: All Danny wanted was some dating advice from the only couple he knows, but of course he got more than he bargained for. At least going to the boardwalk sounds like a nice first date, right?

Word count: 9464 | links to ffn and ao3 in my bio

Danny stares at the tickets in Johnny's outstretched hand. He looks up at Johnny's slanted grin, then back down again. On the other side of the roof, Shadow lurks in the shade of the Ops-centre, drifting dangerously close to the supports.

"When I asked for dating advice, this isn't what I meant," Danny says. He thought Johnny dragged him up to the roof of Fenton Works for some "man to man" talk, not... whatever this is.

Johnny shrugs and stuffs the tickets into his jacket pocket. "Maybe so, but it's what you're getting! You want to treat your girl right? What better way to learn than watching the best boyfriend you know in action?"

"Johnny, I've seen you in action. Downtown. Driving around the community college and looking at all the girls while Kitty is off doing whatever," Danny says.

"Is that really such a big deal? Come on, kid. Listen to me." Johnny throws his arm around Danny's shoulder and drags him toward the edge of the rooftop. "Look how big this place is." He sweeps out his arm, gesturing toward the city. The sun is nearly set, but lots of people are still out at this hour. A warm haze of light glitters on the northern edge of the city, at the beachfront. Danny can almost see the top curve of the Ferris wheel from here.

Johnny continues. "Lots of people down there. Who knows who you actually saw doing what? I bet there are loads of blond guys with bikes around here. And I've got two tickets to the pier that says so."

Danny turns away from the glowing city to stare incredulously at Johnny. "You're using a double date with you and Kitty to bribe me into not telling her I caught you ogling college girls?"

"You said it, not me."

"Did you steal those tickets?"

"Kid, I know you're the goody-two-shoes type. I bought them fair and square with money right of pocket."

Danny snorts. "Whose pocket?"

"I don't think that matters. Come on, it'll be fun. I don't give advice for free, you know." Johnny squeezes Danny's shoulder, a little too hard for what's meant to be a casual chat. The desperate sheen in Johnny's eye kind of ruins the threat, though.

As Danny considers the offer, a shiver goes up his spine. His next breath leaves in a puff of pale blue air. With a sigh, he goes intangible and extracts himself from Johnny's hold, smiling a little when the older ghost stumbles at the sudden loss of Danny's support. Looking over the rooftops, he can't see another ghost, but they can't be far if they set off his ghost sense. He hopes with all his heart that they might be here for a friendly chat, like Johnny, but doubts it. Danny isn't lucky enough for that.

"Okay. I'll go," he says.

"And?" Johnny's grin stretches as he gestures for Danny to go on.

Danny tips his head back and sighs. He doesn't have time for this. "And I guess I didn't see you at the college last week."

"Great!" Johnny gives Danny a hearty slap on the back and climbs back onto his motorcycle. "You're not so bad, kid. When you're not kicking my ass. Just stick with Kitty and me on the day and I'll show the ropes." He kicks up the stand on his motorcycle and revs the engine. "Oh, and before I forget. If this date doesn't go perfectly, then... Shadow!"

The murky ghost rises from beneath the Ops-centre.

"Wait, don't!" Danny shouts, too late, as Shadow zips across the roof, cutting through as many of the Ops-Centre's supports as he can before melting into the darkness. Johnny takes off cackling as the whole thing comes crashing down.

—

The next morning, Danny keeps his head low, his gaze locked on the bowl of soggy cereal in front of him. Across the kitchen, his father stops to slap the counter.

"Didn't even hear a thing! Can you believe that?" Jack asks.

"Crazy."

"Must have happened while we were sleeping."

"Must have."

"When I find the ghost that did it, they're gonna get a face full of Fenton grade vengeance! You know what happens when a ghost looks in a mirror, Danno? Makes 'em go crazy. We're working on this new gun that makes them see—"

"Look at that, time for school!" Danny shoots to his feet. He can't meet his father's gaze as he dumps his cereal bowl—still half full—into the sink and scurries out of the kitchen.

"Have fun!" Jack calls after him.

"Yeah, sure, I will!" Danny shouts back. Under his breath, he adds, "as long as I never have to see that gun." He grabs his backpack as he leaves, snagging the strap and swinging it over his shoulder on his way out the door. Once he is outside, and there's a solid barrier between him, his ticked-off father, and whatever ghost-fighting monstrosity his parents have made now, he stops to take a deep breath.

There are still a few minutes before Tucker should arrive for their walk to school, but Jack does not know that. Danny did not want to sit there and listen to his own father talk about all the ways he could make Danny double-dead, much less re-experience his first death. In fact, he usually tries to avoid people like that. Unfortunately, that does not always work when he lives with two of them.

Danny shakes his head. He can think about those things later. Right now, his conversation with Johnny is the only thing he cares about. Only time will tell if he made a huge mistake agreeing to the double date, but it would be nice if at least one thing could go right for Danny for once.

Inside the house, something slams, followed by a shout from Jack that rattles the window. Danny jumps away from the door and nearly tumbles down the stoop, his front foot slipping off the top step. He latches onto the bannister to keep from falling back, and his foot thumps against the next step. The landing jars his leg as his knee locks, a jolt shooting up his thigh.

"Whoa, it's freshman Danny." Tucker's voice drifts through Danny's ears.

Danny turns, rubbing his now aching knee, and scowls. "What?"

"You know. Freshman Danny." Grinning wide and smug, Tucker motions to Danny's entire person first, then his leg. "Clumsy as hell and too chicken to ask Sam out."

"Shut up! Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!" Tucker waves his hand in an airy gesture of finality, turning up his nose. He spins away from Danny, a signal that their little squabble is over. His mistake.

With a final cry of "Am not!" Danny launches himself at Tucker, pouncing on his back. Tucker shrieks in surprise, a peal of laughter echoing off his cry, and stumbles under the new weight. He tries to beat Danny off with the flat of his palm. In response, Danny clings tighter. He wraps his legs around Tucker's waist and hooks his arms over his shoulders, latching on to his wrists to keep a firm grip.

"Holy shit. You're so short, why are you so heavy." Tucker wheezes as he tries to pry Danny's arms off.

Danny throws his head over Tucker's shoulders, shifting his weight forward enough that Tucker bows underneath him. "Ghost fighting muscles, baby."

"Ugh." Tucker's palm finds Danny's chin and he pushes, shoving his head back. "You totally could have asked Sam out for homecoming but nooo, you had to go with me as a hot young bachelor."

Danny's cheeks burned. "It was your idea!"

"Only because you were getting all pouty about not going with Sam, and the only reason that didn’t happen is because you never asked!"

"Well, I'm asking today!"

Tucker freezes. For a second, Danny wonders how ridiculous they must look to anyone watching, with him clinging to Tucker worse than Klemper to literally anyone, and Tucker stretching back to push Danny's head as far back as it will go. Actually, maybe they wouldn't find it so strange. Danny's neighbours have seen a lot of weird things in the past four years; him and Tucker being their usual selves can't be high up on that list.

"You're really gonna ask today, finally?" Tucker asks.

Danny nods, as much as he can Tucker still shoving his head back. "Johnny was here last night."

"Oh yeah?" Tucker pauses, giving Danny a chance to elaborate. He doesn't, waiting for the gears to click in Tucker's head instead. It takes a moment, but he gets there. "Oh! Oh, right, yeah. He finally got back to you? Is that why, uh... you know." Tucker finally withdraws his hands and points to the roof of Fenton Works.

"Oh. Yeah." Danny's limbs go intangible, slipping through Tucker's torso in one final act of petty vengeance as Danny rights himself. Tucker shivers, shooting Danny a glare, before looking back at the Ops-Centre. Normally a pinnacle of Fenton genius that stands proudly above their home, now it lays on its side. Danny managed to catch it, barely, before it could crash into the roof, but overnight the saucer-like body crushed itself under its own weight. Now, the side touching the roof is a crumpled mess, the supports that once held it up rusted beyond repair.

"Shadow," Danny says. It's all he needs to say. Tucker nods, understanding perfectly what happened here. "Other than that it went... okay. He asked me out."

"What?!" Tucker's head whips toward Danny, his eyes wide. "I hope nobody tells Kitty. But he does give off bi energy, doesn't he?"

Danny rolls his eyes. "Not like that. He invited me and Sam on a double date with him and Kitty."

"Oh, so they're swingers."

"Tucker!"

Tucker snickers. "Okay, okay. I'm serious now. Promise." The cat-like grin he gives isn't the most reassuring, but Danny will take what he can get. "You're really gonna ask her out today?"

"Got carnival tickets and everything."

"Well, shit, man. Don't blow it."

Danny grabs Tucker's beanie and yanks it down over his face. Tucker's teasing laughter chases Danny all the way to school.

—

At lunch, Danny pulls Sam aside. He meets her at her locker, which is two halls away from his and Tucker's, waiting along the opposite wall for her to finish switching out her books for her lunch bag. The hall is still fairly crowded since it's only been a minute since the lunch bell went. Down the way, Danny can see Paulina and Elliot, standing with their heads tucked together by Paulina's locker, working on the local rumour mill no doubt. When Sam looks done digging through her bag, and Danny pushes off the wall toward her, Elliot happens to glance in their direction. His sharp eyes go from Danny to Sam, then back. A wicked smile takes over his face.

Danny ducks his head, letting his hair flop forward and hide his slowly reddening cheeks. In two quick strides, he crosses the hall and thumps against the closed lockers beside Sam's.

"Done lurking?" Sam asks without looking up.

"I wasn't lurking."

"Sure you weren't." Sam knocks her elbow against her locker door. Danny's eyes catch the small, black-framed mirror taped to the inside, which reflects the exact spot Danny was standing when it hits the right angle.

At this rate, Danny's face will be red as his shoes. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh. What's up?" She finally looks up from her bag as she yanks the zipper closed. When she turns toward him, she hits her locker door with her elbow once again, this time to knock it closed; but, as the door swings, Danny glimpses Paulina and Elliot again. This time, they are both watching, and the way they cover their mouths as they talk is far from reassuring.

Danny's hand jerks out. He stops Sam's locker, shoving it back open, and holds it in place to block the gossiping duo's view.

"I wanted to ask you something," Danny says.

Sam shoots a raised eyebrow at her locker door, then turns it on him "Are you okay? You've been acting kind of weird all day."

"No, yeah, I'm fine. I was just­– you know. This weekend, yeah?"

Sam looks entirely unimpressed with his fumbled words. "I can't say that I do."

"I have tickets to the boardwalk," Danny clarifies. "For this weekend. We don't have anything planned and I know you're free. So, want to go?"

As he waits for Sam's answer, he is struck by the realization that she could say no. They have been friends for years, and he has had an inkling, the past little while, that she might like him back. But he doesn't know it. No matter what Danny feels for her—and thinking about his own feelings makes his face hot and his heart stutter—she still might not feel the same. She could say no. And it's not that Danny hasn't thought about this before; there's a reason he is only asking her out senior year even though he has had a crush on her since they were freshman. But worrying about it in the back of his mind is very different from standing in front of her knowing it could actually happen.

This was such a bad idea. He is asking her out in the hallway. Within sight of Paulina and Elliot. He should have waited until after school, at least. Oh, god. Should he have gotten her something? Are you supposed to bring something when you ask someone out? Oh, this is so bad. She is going to say no, and then Danny will have to tell the story to Tucker, and Tucker will laugh because of course she said no, this is terrible.

"Sure, sounds fun," Sam says.

Danny blinks. He shakes his head, goes over her words in his head to make sure he heard it right, then blinks again. "Yes?"

"Absolutely. It's been so long since we've gone to the boardwalk. Maybe Tucker can win that stuffed shark he couldn't get last time." Sam nudges Danny's hand off her locker door and closes it, then snaps her padlock back into place.

Danny watches her blankly, slowly processing what she just said. "Tucker," he says.

"Yeah. At the ring toss booth, remember? I think he wasted fifty bucks on that thing. I told him it was a scam, but whatever." Sam starts down the hall toward the cafeteria, but Danny stays rooted in place.

He remembers the ring toss, of course. After Tucker finished emptying his wallet on the booth, Danny took a turn and got the top prize in one go. He might have had a little telekinesis to help him along, but no one else needed to know that; the giant stuffed alien was worth it. But that had nothing to do with this, right?

Before his thoughts can spiral too far, Danny shakes his head. "I meant without Tucker."

Sam pauses mid-step. Slowly, she sets her foot down and turns back around to face Danny. Her grip on her backpack tightens, and he can see the muscle along her jaw working as she clenches her teeth. Those are... probably not good signs. "Like, just you and me?"

In the background, Danny hears Paulina and Elliot snicker. He groans, dragging a hand down his face, and glares over Sam's shoulder at them. "Can you not?"

"Not our fault you're doing this in the middle of the hall," Paulina says.

"Seriously. I had way better class," Elliot adds.

Paulina looks at Elliot and beams. "You so did. But I've been rooting for this since the beginning, and I am so invested right now."

"Oh my God, this is so embarrassing." Danny has to fight off the urge to go intangible. He almost wishes his ghost sense would go off so that he could have an excuse to leave. This is not how he imagined this going, and Paulina and Elliot are making it so much worse than it has to be.

"Come on, Danny." Sam's voice snaps him out of his pity party. At some point, while he was wallowing, she walked back toward him and now has her hand on his wrist. She tugs him forward. He gives in, letting her drag him along the hall past the tittering pair until they disappear around the corner. Once they are out of sight, Sam's hand slips down into Danny's. It's warm. She squeezes his hand, just once, then tugs him into the nearest empty classroom and closes the door.

Neither of them says anything for a long moment.

Danny's hands flex at his sides as he tries not to fidget. Sam won't pull her gaze up from the floor.

"So, uh. Just you and me?" she repeats.

Danny nods vigorously, then stops and shakes it instead. "Yeah, but no. Johnny and Kitty will be there."

Sam's head snaps up.

The first thing Danny notices is the red tinge to her face, a rosy band stretching across her cheeks and nose. Her lips pinch together, not in a show of disapproval, but an expression of hers that he has become familiar with over the years. Sam doesn't usually do hopeful most of the time. Nerves aren't her thing either. But when she wants something bad enough, and she dares to look on the brighter side, she gets this look on her face. It's like she wants to smile but she holds herself back, sucking on her lips as she tries to keep composed.

That expression wavers now, her mouth relaxing as a frown tugs at her lips instead. "Now I'm confused. Are you trying to ask me out or not?"

"Yes!" Danny bursts out. "To the boardwalk with me. But it's, like, a double date with Johnny and Kitty, because he got the tickets. Actually bought them, although I'm pretty sure he stole the money." He considers telling Sam about the deal but holds back. "I really thought this was gonna go better but now I kind of want to punch Elliot in the face or something."

"Please don't punch my ex-boyfriend in the face."

"Right, not a good look. Got it."

Silence falls again. Neither of them can meet each other's eyes, although Danny keeps stealing glances at Sam. One hand hovers in front of her mouth, but when she turns her head away from him, he sees the full-blown grin on her face. Her eyes sparkle in a way he hasn't seen before. It sounds cheesy and dumb, but it's the truth. He looks at her and all he can see is how genuinely happy she is. Soon enough, Danny wears a grin to match hers.

"So," Sam says, and that one syllable sounds so much lighter than her usual tone. "It's a date."

—

In retrospect, asking Sam to go out with him on Saturday on a Wednesday wasn't the best idea. Danny floats around school for the rest of the day with a dopey grin on his face. He actually lifts off his feet a few times and Tucker has to clamp a hand down on his shoulder to keep him down. Over the next two days, he asks Tucker no less than five times if that really happened, if Sam actually said yes. Tucker, naturally, teases Danny relentlessly over it.

By Friday, Paulina and Elliot have made good work of spreading Danny's disaster attempt to ask Sam out all around the school. More than once, he sees money changing hands in the hallway, trying to be discreet and Danny and Sam pass by, so close together that their knuckles keep brushing as they walk.

He hasn't held her hand since she dragged him to the classroom on Wednesday, even though he wants to.

When Saturday rolls around, Danny phones Tucker an hour before he and Sam are supposed to meet.

"Do I dress normally?" he asks.

On the other end of the line, Tucker sighs. "Why are you asking me?"

"It's the boardwalk. People don't get dressed up for the boardwalk. And Sam has already seen everything in my closet. Should I try to look really nice, or should I just be myself?"

"We are talking about Sam, right? Relax, man. You know what she'd like."

In the end, Danny decides to go mostly normal. He throws a button-up over his usual outfit, rolls the sleeves up, and calls it a day. If he knows Sam, she would appreciate him not making things weird by getting too fancy and not like his usual self. He maintains that attitude up until he gets to the boardwalk and sees her waiting by the ticket booths.

"I should have dressed up," he whispers.

At a glance, Sam's outfit doesn't seem too different from her usual attire. Black on black with a few purple accents thrown into the mix. He has seen her in dresses before, but rarely outside school dances, and he has never seen this one with Flowing lace sleeves that slope down her shoulders and a flared skirt. She even has a new wide brim hat to go with it, even though it's already sunset.

Before Danny even considers turning back around and putting something nicer on, Sam's gaze roves over the parking lot and settles on him. She gives his outfit a good look. A second passes. She bursts on laughing.

"Oh, come on," Danny whines as he approaches.

"I'm sorry," she says, but she is still hunched over clutching her stomach. "But your face. You should have seen your face."

It takes a good minute for her to get her giggles under control. Even still, a few quiet snickers breakthrough when she finally composes herself, smoothing out her dress and righting her hat.

"Tucker texted me," she says. "He told me all about your little fashion dilemma."

"I'm gonna kill him." Tucker just had to get in one last jab before the date began, Danny supposes. He hopes it was worth it because Tucker is going to pay dearly. Although...

He subtlety takes in Sam's outfit again, the way the dress hugs her waist, and those boots. He didn't notice them at first but now he can't stop staring at them. Slick, black, buckled up to the knees, with the purple lace edging of a pair of stocking peeking out the top. The only exposed skin on her legs is a few scant inches of her thighs between the end of the stockings and the bottom of her dress. And it's a damn good few inches.

Danny silently amends his earlier statement. He won't kill Tucker; he will collapse into his best friend’s arms crying tears of gratitude for helping him spend a whole evening with Sam dressed like that.

Realizing that he is staring, Danny quickly drags his eyes back up to Sam's face. The last thing he wants on their first date is for her to punch him because he is being a creep. Except Sam doesn't look angry to have caught him staring. In fact, she is blushing again, nervously plucking at her sleeves with her nails.

"For a second I thought you had bought a whole new outfit just for today." Danny chuckles, his own nerves showing through. Despite how long they have known each other, he feels wholly unprepared for tonight.

"Not exactly," Sam says. She drops her sleeves and smooths out her skirt again, this time pinching some of the fabric in her hand and swishing it back and forth. "I've had this outfit for a while, but I haven't worn it yet."

"Oh, man. I'm really underdressed, aren't I?" Danny tugs at the collar of his NASA shirt with a grimace. The button-up, at least, is black, because he knew she would like that. But otherwise, he is plain old Danny.

"Not that you don't look good all dressed up, but I like it when you're yourself," Sam says.

The rumble of a motorcycle approaches from the distance.

"Besides, I think you'll look pretty fancy next to Johnny."

At least Danny has that going for him. They both turn toward and watch Johnny's motorcycle peal into the parking lot. It goes intangible, along with its riders, and phases through the parked cars, only coming back into the physical world when it screeches to a stop in front of Danny and Sam.

Johnny runs a hand over his slicked-back hair—is that gel? "You're really setting the tone for your first date, huh."

To Danny's horror, Johnny is dressed up. He switched his dusty gray jacket for a shiny leather one, and instead of his usual shirt, he wears his own button-up. But unlike Danny's, Johnny's shirt is white and crisp, and actually buttoned up.

Kitty, meanwhile, looks the same as always. "Come on, don't tease the kid. He ain't half bad looking. He snagged me for a couple weeks, didn't he?"

Danny opens his mouth, about to remind her that she had been using him to make Johnny jealous the entire time; one look at Johnny's scowl and Sam's glare has him shutting up before he can utter a single syllable.

"Uh, should we go in? You do have the tickets, right Johnny?" he says instead.

Johnny scoffs and reaches into his jacket, pulling out the tickets. "Cool it, little man. I got us covered."

"Johnny! You actually bought tickets?" Kitty gasps.

"Only the best for you, babe. Let's go." Johnny holds out his elbow for Kitty to take, which she goes with glee, her steps bouncing as they take off for the ticket booth. Over his shoulder, Johnny shoots Danny a wink.

"Oh, uh. Shall we?" Danny cringes as the words fall from his mouth, but offers his arm to Sam nonetheless. She looks between Danny and Johnny, a questioning look in her eye. Just when Danny thinks she is going to leave him hanging, she shrugs and loops her arm through his.

They follow Johnny and Kitty. Already at the booth, the ghostly couple is passing the tickets over when Danny and Sam get close.

"The pipsqueaks are with us," Johnny says.

The girl at the counter, who looks only a year or two older than Danny, stares at Johnny with wide eyes. His aura, a dull grey that's usually hard to see, is much brighter at night. With the poorly lit parking lot at their back, it's impossible to ignore. Kitty's soft green aura is far more noticeable, but she stands just behind Johnny, her arm still curled around his, staring ahead at the twinkling lights of the boardwalk.

The sun hasn't completely set yet, but the top of the Ferris wheel touches the darkest part of the sky, and its colourful lights flash in a mesmerizing pattern, beckoning people in.

Johnny seems to have forgotten the whole reason he arranged this date in the first place because he takes full advantage of Kitty's distraction to lean in close to Ticket Girl, looking her up and down.

Behind them, a line is forming.

Ticket Girl's lip curls in disgust, but Danny can see fear shining in her eyes. "Sorry, sir, but I don't know if I can let a ghost in."

The fawning curl to Johnny's smile drops away abruptly, twisting into something more similar. "That's a bit rude, don't you think?" Shadow rises from Johnny's feet, growing taller until he looms over the booth, a menacing grin stretching his blank face wide.

"Johnny!" Danny slides up to the booth, nudging Johnny over with the arm not held by Sam, and beams at Ticket Girl manning the booth. "Hey. You might recognize me­—Danny Fenton, son of Maddie and Jack Fenton."

"The ghost hunters." Ticket Girl nods.

"Right. We're actually doing an experiment right now. See, some ghosts actually have really human behaviours. Like Phantom, I bet you love him. But any good scientist has to test their hypothesis multiple times. So me and my– uh, my girlfriend?" He glances at Sam, whose red face matches his, but nods in agreement. "Are here to observe these too ghosts"—he tips his head to Johnny and Kitty—"doing normal human things. Such as getting into the boardwalk with paid tickets, just like everyone else wants to do."

"But he...." Ticket Girl glances nervously at Shadow.

"The big guy will be so chill. Super chill. You won't even know he is here, because you'll be at the booth, far away from the ghosts that just want to get inside and definitely not hurt anyone here."

The kid snatches up the tickets before Danny finishes his sentence, ripping off the stubs, and shoves a handful of wristbands across the counter, along with a whole roll of game tickets. "Just don't come back, okay?"

"Thank you!" Danny grabs the items and hustles everyone along.

"Nice work, Danny." Kitty gives him a thumb up under her and Johnny's intertwined arms. "Way to use your head."

"I could have thought of something," Johnny grumbles.

"Sure you could have, babe. Now let's check out the roller coaster first!" She drags him off, both of them without their wristbands, but Danny doesn't think it will be a problem. Everyone steers clear of them as they plow through the crowd. Every second the sun gets closer to setting, every shade darker the sky turns, the more obvious it becomes that Johnny and Kitty aren't human as their auras grow brighter.

"What should we do first?" Sam plucks four of the wristbands from Danny's fist—the kid gave him seven—and puts them on, grinning at her little collection. She takes the remaining three and puts them on Danny.

"Roller coaster sounds fun. Go with the thrills first?" He watches her slip the bands around his wrist, looping them together so that all three are intertwined.

Sam pauses on the last bracelet. "But you like saving the big rides for last."

He peeks over Sam's shoulder. Johnny and Kitty are halfway across the boardwalk already, well on their way to the coaster. Johnny twists mid-step, catches Danny's eye, and beckons him forward.

Right. Stick together. See how it's done.

"Yeah, but it might be fun to shake things up." He takes over putting the last bracelet on, hurrying to slap the sticky pieces together. In his rush, he catches some of his hair, drawing out a wince, but Johnny and Kitty are nearly there, and they've fallen way too far behind. "Come on!"

Danny takes Sam's arm and pulls her along. Focused on the path left by Johnny and Kitty's charge, he misses the frown on Sam's face as she looks down at him.

—

It goes better than Danny expected. Kitty leads the way, picking attraction after attraction with such gusto that he thinks she has never been to a theme park of any kind, which may very well be. Danny doesn't know much about Johnny and Kitty's life before ghost-hood, except that they died young and poor.

More than once, Danny catches Johnny watching other girls. Kitty doesn't seem to have noticed, so far, but Danny is not taking any chances. He remembers Johnny's threat and Shadow's piercing eyes watching them every step of the way serves as a constant reminder. Whenever he catches Johnny in a moment of distraction, he nudges the ghost and draws him back to the present. It earns him a few glares, but it works.

Despite Johnny's mounting annoyance, he still fulfills his side of the deal, giving Danny quick advice, either through vague gestures or whispered words while the girls are distracted.

"Let her choose what to do." Johnny feigns examining the bright bulbs overhead as they wait in line for the bumper cars. The golden lights dangle from the tent, flashing intermittently. Neither Sam nor Kitty are paying attention to the boys. Sam leans against the railing, cheering on the current bumper car drivers. A quick glance into the rink shows Valerie Grey ramming her cart against Dash Baxter.

If Johnny weren't dispensing important advice, Danny would be right next to Sam cheering along.

"It makes her feel like you care about what she likes when you do," Johnny continues.

"I do care," Danny says.

"Perfect, then you won't have a problem."

The bumper cars don't provide ample opportunity to use Johnny's advice, but when Kitty drags them to the Tilt-a-Whirl next, he gets the perfect chance. At the front of the line, he and Sam get first pick of the available seats. The Amity Park boardwalk, unlike other theme parks, has an eclectic collection of Tilt-a-Whirl cars ranging from a cupcake, to a plain seat, to a bat to a spaceship. Danny already knows which one Sam would like.

"You want to take the spaceship?" Sam asks, tugging Danny in that direction.

He resists her pull. "Don't you like the bat?"

"Yeah, of course. But you like the spaceship."

It's the strangest tug of war Danny has ever found himself in. He nearly gives in, but Johnny kicks the back of Danny's leg—lightly—and coughs "lady's choice" under his breath.

"It's just a car. We can take the one you like," Danny says.

Sam frowns, her grip slackening. It's all that Danny needs, and he eagerly pulls her toward the bat, sliding in before she can protest further. When he turns to face her, instead of a smile, she meets him with a frown.

"Is something wrong?" Danny asks, startled. Panic rises within him. Oh, no. She is not having a good time. It's a disaster after all.

"No, it's fine," she says after a moment of silence, which does nothing to assuage Danny's worries. Everyone knows "fine" doesn't actually mean "fine." It's one of the most used words in Danny's vocabulary, typically after a nasty ghost fight that leaves him limping and bruised.

Desperate, Danny leans out of the car, searching the ride for Johnny. He finds him across the way, sliding into the cupcake next to Kitty. Johnny meets Danny's gaze and motions for him to watch. In one smooth move, Johnny stretches his arm out with a feigned yawn, then settles it down around Kitty's shoulders and tugs her close. When Danny leans back into the car, Sam is watching him.

"You're acting weird," she says.

"I'm just a little tired." Danny stretches his arm up, just like Johnny did. Sam's gaze follows it all the way until he drapes it over her shoulder. It isn't until he has settled that he realizes he forgot the yawn.

The rest of Johnny's advice follows that same vein: do what Sam wants and use every chance possible to invite her closer. Danny follows it to the letter, mimicking everything Johnny does. Take the lead when walking, but let her choose where to go. Keep her close, but let her wander when she wants to. The hardest part, though, is finding excuses to stick with Johnny and Kitty.

"We don't have to spend the whole night with them," Sam says.

They are loading onto the Ferris wheel, Johnny and Kitty taking one side of the four-person carriage while Sam and Danny get the other. Danny had hoped to save this for the end of the night, for just him and Sam, but Kitty wanted to go now. When Danny tried to suggest otherwise, or even suggest he and Sam take a different carriage, Shadow's low growl cut off his protests.

"I want to make sure they don't get into trouble. You know they like to cause drama," he whispers needlessly. Neither Kitty nor Johnny is listening.

"I don't think we have to worry about that. We've been here for three hours already and they haven't done anything. I think they just want to have a good time. Mostly." Sam tilts her head, shooting Johnny a pointed look.

To Danny's dismay, Johnny is once again feasting on the local sights. As Kitty braces herself against the rail of the carriage, staring out over the beachfront, Johnny leers at the woman who helped them onto the ride. His posture mimics Kitty's as the Ferris wheel turns for the next passengers to load on, and he leans over to get one last look at the woman.

"It's a double date. Aren't you supposed to stick together on a double date?" Danny draws Sam's attention back to him with the question and uses that moment to kick Johnny's ankle.

"Ow!" Johnny cries. He whips around, fixing a glare on Danny. "The hell was that for?"

"Do I have to say it?" They both know he won't, though. With the threat of Shadow hanging over the evening, Danny won't risk letting Kitty on to what's happening behind her back.

Sam, however, has no such qualms. "I can't believe you. You're literally on a date and you're not even paying attention to your girlfriend?"

That grabs Kitty's attention. She turns, eyes wide, and looks at Johnny. "What?"

"I bet she spent a long time getting ready for today, trying to look good for you, but here you are, faking interest when she watches, then looking to someone else whenever you think she isn't." As Sam berates Johnny, her voice slowly growing louder, Danny gets the sinking feeling that she isn't just talking about the ghost. "I wonder how long she has been looking forward to this. Probably a really long time, but you're so distracted that you can't even see she isn't enjoying herself."

Danny's stomach plummets. He really screwed up, didn't he?

"You. What?" Kitty's ice-cold voice reminds Danny that there are real stakes on this date.

"I was checking out her jacket, not her! It looks like the kind of thing you like to wear," Johnny rushes to explain.

Kitty's eyes narrow. In a blink, she lurches across the carriage and takes Johnny's place at the rail, peering back at the receding woman. Damningly, she isn't wearing a jacket.

"You! You! I can't believe you!" Kitty shrieks. "I thought you wanted to take me on a nice date. I didn't even care that you the ghost kid and his girl were coming, because he's nice, and you were finally taking me to a theme park like I always wanted!"

Viridescent tears streak down Kitty's cheeks. Danny has seen her livid and raging plenty of times over the past few years, but now she looks downright distraught. Her face crumples, scowl giving way as a sob wrenches from her throat. Johnny looks as stricken as Danny feels.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean it. You know you're the only girl for me," he says, dropping to his knees.

"I thought this– this meant something." Kitty struggles to speak through her tears, fighting against the tightening of her throat and gasping sobs. "How could you?"

She takes off, then, launching herself out of the carriage with enough force that she sends it rocking. Johnny reaches after her, but it's no use. She streaks across the sky, a blur of red and green, and disappears into the sparkling lights of the game booths, out of sight in seconds.

An oppressive silence descends for one long moment.

Johnny, shoulders trembling, turns to Danny. His shadow bubbles and bulges as two furious eyes blink open. "Kid, I am going to kill you!"

Sam jumps forward, sending the carriage rocking again, and brings her leg up. Danny glimpses the neon sole of her boot before she slams her heel down on Shadow's growing face. Shadow screeches in pain and withers into the floor, disappearing into a grey blob with a pathetic sizzle.

"Shut the hell up, Johnny, and go after your girlfriend!" Sam shouts, thrusting an arm out toward the game booths.

Johnny gnashes his teeth but doesn't fight. "This isn't over, kid." He falls through the floor of the carriage, intangible, and takes off after Kitty.

With a huff, Sam drops onto the bench opposite Danny, crossing her legs and arms, and glares at a point over Danny's shoulder.

Danny fidgets, pinching the fabric of his jeans and rolling it between his fingers. He looks up at Sam, down, then out after Johnny and Kitty. "Should we–"

"They can wait until the ride is done," Sam snaps.

Danny nods, afraid to say anything else and screw this up even further. He should have noticed Sam wasn't enjoying herself. It started off great, and now... he is not sure if there will be a second date. He wouldn't blame her. With that realization comes the dawning horror of what that might mean for their friendship. It would end because of this, right? They have fought a few times over the years, and it never lasts long, but this is different. They tried dating; that changes things. If it doesn't work and they go back to just being friends, it won't be the same. They will both know that they like each other, and they will know that it didn't work.

What would happen then? Danny can't imagine not having Sam in his life, but if she is really mad at him... she has dropped people for less. Everyone in Casper High remembers the middle school debacle that led to Sam cutting off all ties with Paulina. They might be better now, but it took six years for them to become friends again. Danny couldn't wait that long.

"Danny!" Sam jostles him, her hand on his shoulder, and yanks him back to the present. She stares into his eyes, assessing him. Once she is satisfied that he is back in the moment, she returns to her seat, this time with her gaze fixed on him.

Looking outside the carriage, Danny realizes they are over the crest. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he missed half the ride, including the best moment. The realization hits him worse than one of Skulker's ecto-seeking missiles. He nearly spirals again, but Sam reaches out and clamps onto his knee, keeping him grounded.

"Danny, I think we need to talk."

This is his nightmare. Literally, he has had nightmares about Sam rejecting him. They usually end with the haunting echo of Elliot's pompous laughter as Sam chooses him, old jealousies thriving in his dreams. Sometimes Valerie is there, too, her face overlayed with Sam's as they turn him down in unison. But the worst ones are when it is just Sam, looking him straight in the eye, and saying no. Right now, this is all too close to those nightmares.

He swallows, unable to find the right words, and nods instead.

"Why did you ask me out if you weren't even going to pay attention to me?" she asks.

Danny's mouth stays clamped shut as his earlier fears are realized. Her rant was for more than just Johnny.

"You asked me if this outfit was new." Sam skims her fingers along the lace of her stockings, tracing the spiderweb patterns hidden within. "I didn't lie when I answered. I bought this a few months ago for homecoming. It was our last one, and I thought... I thought you were going to ask me to it."

"But that's not..."

"Yeah, I didn't wear it."

The dress she did wear was fancier, with layered skirts and glittering black beads.

"I bought this one because I knew you wouldn't care if I dressed fancy or not. And I know you don't like to unless you have to." She nods to Danny's casual outfit. "So when you asked me out, I already knew what I wanted to wear, because I know you. But this whole time, you haven't acted like the Danny I know and care about. You've been clingy, and overly accommodating, but at the same time ignoring everything I wanted. And when you weren't doing that, you were watching Johnny?"

Sam ducks her head and looks away. With the brim of her hat hiding her face, he can't see her, but the quiet sniffle she makes is unmistakable.

A rotten taste seeps through Danny's mouth. This was supposed to be a nice first date, but all he did was make Sam cry.

"I know I say I don't care about this stuff. I say it all the time, but..." She reaches up, carefully dabs at her eyes so she doesn't ruin her makeup. "I wanted you to look at me."

Danny finally finds his voice. "Sam, God, no. You're beautiful. When I saw you? Holy crap, I couldn't breathe. You're always beautiful. Not that that's the only reason I like you! You're my best friend. I love your passion, and your smarts, and how you won't put up with guys like Johnny getting away with any of their shit. Or me getting away with mine. I love so much about you, and I love­–"

He cuts himself off before the last word, the unsaid "you" hanging between them. He knows what he meant. She probably does, too. Now isn't the right time to say it, though, so he lets his voice fade to quiet.

The Ferries wheel jerks to a stop, their carriage rocking back and forth, and the ride technician opens the door for them.

"Hey, weren't there for of you before?" she asks.

"They got off early," Danny says. He ignores the startled look on the technician’s face as he rises to his feet. On instinct, he reaches toward Sam but holds back at the last moment. Clingy. The word echoes in his head. He wavers, unsure what to do.

Sam takes the choice away from him, jerking to her feet before he can decide. She touches his hand, but doesn't take it and brushes past him, exiting the carriage onto the boardwalk.

"Harsh," the technician whispers.

"I deserve it," Danny mutters back before running after Sam. She walks at a brisk pace, weaving through the crowd toward the line of booths. Danny catches up as she reaches the first tent. "Where are we going?"

"We need to make sure Johnny and Kitty haven't trashed anything, don't we?" Sam says.

"Right, yeah." Danny wishes his ghost sense would go off. At the very least, it could tell them if Johnny and Kitty were close by, but that only worked if they left his range in the first place. In his freshman year, they might have, but today his range stretched over most of the boardwalk, if not the whole thing.

As it turns out, tracking them is easy even without Danny's sense. When he and Sam reach the tightest cluster of game booths, they find a trail of destruction. Fallen stands, scattered prizes, and shattered lights guide them through the maze of booths and back out into the main thoroughfare.

"This looks tame for Shadow," Sam comments.

"Twenty bucks says Johnny did it," Danny says as they pick their way through shattered boards.

"Not Kitty?"

"Right now, the only person she's mad at is Johnny. But when Johnny gets mad, he isn't the only source of bad luck in their trio," Danny explains. It doesn't come out often, since Shadow does most of the fighting, but he has seen it often enough to recognize the effects.

When they leave the booths behind, they find themselves near the boardwalk entrance. In the middle of the wide path, Johnny and Kitty are locked in a screaming match. Or Kitty screams while Johnny wilts with every new word.

"It was always supposed to be our place, Johnny! And you ruined it!" She beat her fist against his chest, wailing all the while.

Johnny's silence under the onslaught speaks volumes. He doesn't even look mad anymore, just heartbroken.

"All I ever wanted, and you couldn't even—!" She stops, shuddering, and takes a deep breath. Her next words come out quiet. "If you hadn't tried to look at that stupid girl! If you had just watched the road like you were supposed to!" A gut-wrenching sob cuts her off. "Leave me alone, Johnny."

She turns on her heels and runs toward the nearest building. For a moment, it doesn't look like Johnny is going to follow. His legs tremble, seconds from collapsing beneath him. He manages to lift his gaze, though, and finally notices the sign hanging over the building that Kitty missed: Hall of Mirrors.

"Shit! Kitty, wait!" he calls, but she ignores him. With another swear, he leaps up and flies after her.

"Oh, no," Danny says. He sprints across the boards, Sam following without question. They're halfway to the house of mirrors when they hear a piercing scream followed by a crash. The building crackles. Something inside pulses, imperceptible to regular humans, but it makes Danny stagger.

"Danny, what's going on?"

Before he can answer, a wave of power surges from the house and everything goes back.

—

Danny wakes to a sharp ringing in his ears. Hazy light edges his vision. His hearing returns slowly. First, the muffled sound of his name, then the fizzle and pop of broken lights, and finally the soft rumbling of a gathered crowd.

All at once, Danny becomes aware. Sam hovers at his side, her hair tousled, a thin cut on her temple, and her hat in her hands. He sits up, squeezing his eyes shut when the world spins around him. Sam provides a steady hand, rubbing small circles on his back until he can open his eyes again. Around them, the stalls are dark. Thirty feet out in every direction from the house of mirrors, every light is broken. Glass litters the boardwalk. The normally glowing entrance to the park is dark, the metal twisted. Beyond that, the ticket booth lies on its side.

Directly ahead of them, a large crack splits the house of mirrors.

"What... what was that?" Sam asks. "It was like Shadow's power but way bigger. I've never... did Johnny do that? I didn't know he could."

Danny groans, rubbing his head. The piercing ring lingers in the back of his head, and it probably won't fade for a while, but it is not so bad that he can't ignore it. "Normally, yeah, but..." He grimaces. "We should get in there."

Sam nods and helps Danny to his feet, pulling him up by the arm. He staggers toward the broken attraction with Sam at his shoulder, casting wary glances all around them.

The gathered crowd isn’t big, yet. It looks like Danny was the only one knocked off his feet, the only one really affected by the ghostly surge—three guesses as to why that is, and the first two don't count. Judging by the sparks still raining down down from the shattered lights, it has only been a minute since the surge. Security isn't here yet. That gives them some time.

The employee manning the attractions sits on the boards, staring wide-eyed at the broken building. He doesn't even blink as Danny and Sam slip through the curtain.

Inside, it's dark. The lights are all down. Glass crunches under their shoes, every mirror in sight shattered, leaving blank boards behind. Johnny and Kitty aren't far from the entrance, no more than a few feet. Sam sees them first, catches the glow of their auras in the corner of her eye, and points toward a dead-end alcove after the first bend in the maze.

Kitty is tucked against Johnny's chest, her jacket pulled up around her head. Johnny has his arms around her waist, and his soft voice provides the only noise beyond the glass under Danny and Sam's feet.

When Johnny hears them, lifts his head, just enough to glare at them through the darkness. No threats spill from his lips, though, and he goes back to comforting Kitty soon enough.

Danny can't help it. He looks down at the mirror shards below them, and immediately wishes he didn't. Bloody road rash stretches up Kitty's right side, torn to the bone. Her face, protected by the darkness around them, and the shadows of her jacket, remains hidden from Danny's prying eyes. He prefers it that way.

A gentle nudge at his side reminds him that Sam is with them.

"What's going on?" she mouths.

Danny crouches, carefully not to make too much noise, and picks up a shard of glass. Johnny still hears him, though, and Shadow rises threateningly at the sight of the glass. Danny holds up a placating hand, then motions to Sam, the glass, then himself.

No matter what low opinion Johnny has of Danny right now, he wouldn't stoop so far as to expose other ghosts like that. To Danny's surprise, however, Johnny thrusts an arm out and motions for the glass. Danny raises his eyebrows. Johnny sticks his hand out further. Without complaint, Danny passes it over.

Johnny holds the glass up, angling it so that they can see his face. He and Kitty have matching road rash.

Sam gasps.

"Come on," Danny says to Johnny and Kitty. "Security will come soon. And if they see a couple of ghosts, you know they'll call my parents."

Kitty sniffs. Danny can't see her well behind the jacket, but the way her hair bobs, he assumes she nodded. All four of them go intangible, Danny lending his power to Sam. They slip through the mirrors toward the side of the building and step out into the open air. As Johnny continues to comfort Kitty, Danny creeps toward the corner of the building and peers out into the open. They left just in time. A security guard pushes through the gathered crowd and heads for the front entrance.

Danny retreats before anyone can see him, leaning against the side of the building. He shudders.

"I didn't know that could happen," Sam whispers as she comes up beside Danny.

"Not your fault. Ghosts don't make a point of going near mirrors," he says.

"You do, all the time. I saw you in a mirror this week."

"In your locker, yeah. But I'm not a ghost all the time. It doesn't work when I'm in human form."

"So, when you picked up the glass..." Sam trails off. Danny doesn't answer, letting her fill in the blanks for herself.

Neither of them says anything for a long moment. They hear the shout of the security guard, calling an al clear. Danny feels sorry for the workers at the park who have to deal with the aftermath. It didn't affect the whole boardwalk—he can see the Ferris wheel operating just fine, and a glow in the air from the game booth lights.

"Hey, kid."

Danny lifts his head toward Johnny.

"We're heading out. Consider us even."

"Thanks for showing her." Danny tilts his head back and thumps it against the wall of the house of mirrors. "You know, so I didn't have to."

Johnny shrugs. "Yeah, whatever. You're too young to deal with that shit, is all. Take care of your girl, alright?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Kitty is already gone, and Johnny goes invisible before Danny can think of a reply, leaving him and Sam alone.

"You never actually answered," Sam says, breaking the silence between them. "About why you took the double date."

Thank God it's too dark for Sam to see Danny's face go scarlet. In retrospect, of course Johnny's idea wouldn't end well, Danny was just so desperate he was willing to risk it.

"I asked him for dating advice," he mutters.

Sam splutters, a startled laugh bursting out of her. "What?"

"I couldn't think of anyone else to ask, so we made a deal. He invites us on a double date and gives me some tips, and I don't tell Kitty I caught him at the girl's college."

"You are such a dork." Sam snickers. "Is that why you kept watching him? I thought for a second me and Kitty might need to band together to keep you two apart."

Danny groans. "Please don't say that. Tucker already got me with that."

"Good. I hope he did." Sam shuffles over, leaning against Danny, and rests her head on his shoulder. "Danny, I don't need to hang off you like some soul-bound lovebird. We've known each other for ten years. I don't need some idealized romance, I just need you."

Danny feels like an idiot for ever thinking otherwise. The date might have been a train wreck, but half the boardwalk is still functioning. Maybe the evening doesn't have to be a total waste. He pulls the roll of game tickets—a precious commodity at the boardwalk—from his pocket and holds them out.

"Want to win Tucker that shark?" he asks.

Sam laughs, her shoulder shaking against his. "Only if we can ride the spaceship car on the Tilt-a-Whirl."

"Deal."

#I tried to keep it fluffy but I had to throw in some conflict #phic phight #phic phight 2021 #team halfa #tumblroneshot #danny phantom fanfiction #phicc #dp fanfiction #phanfic #danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #Johnny 13 #kitty #amethyst ocean #danny/sam #johnny/kitty #danny fenton/sam manson #johnny 13/kitty #fluff #hurt/comfort #swearing

[shield-agent78]

Winter’s Lessons: Crashed Into You~ Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Clint x Reader (platonic), Clint x Bucky (platonic), Steve x Bucky (platonic), Reader x Steve (platonic), OOC x Reader (platonic) Sam x Bucky (platonic)

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, anguish, fluff, children with disabilities, mentions of autism, a little sass, cocky Bucky

Rating: R

Summary: You’re a school teacher for students with special needs who is passionate about her job but has neglected taking time out for herself. He is handsome, cocky and an Avenger. What happens when a newfound relationship just might turn out to be exactly what you both need?

Word Count: 3238

Square Filled: holding hands Marvel Fluff Bingo @marvelfluffbingo

A/N: Thank you to my beta @mindingmyownbusiness Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Dedicated to: @one-crazy-writer @averyrogers83

Since childhood, you had always wanted to be a teacher. You adored your students and they seemed to respond well to you. However, because of budget cuts, you had not been given a contract for the next school year. You stood in your classroom packing up the few personal items you had left off of your desk as your teacher’s aid walked into the room.

“So what are you planning to do y/n?” Laura sighed, as she helped you place your last remaining items into your box.

“I’m not too sure yet. I’m just thankful that I have a little time to think it over. Bucky said he wants me to come and visit him for a while so I think I might just take him up on his offer.” You grab your box as you and Laura walk down the hall of the school to the parking lot.

“How long have you two been dating?”

“8 months now," you respond happily. "He is something else.”

“I’m sure he is.” You give her a wink with a small giggle as you loaded your box into the trunk of your car. She gives you a supporting hug before leaving you to make the two-hour drive to the compound.

(Fall-8 Months Ago)

“Miss Y/L/N, does this look ok?” Darius asks as he looks up at you from his desk. His little eight-year-old hands hold up the card he made for his very favorite Avenger, the Winter Soldier. On the outside, it is a crude picture of himself with Bucky Barnes playing on swings. You beam with pride. He is doing so well in class. You had taught Darius, for over a year and a half with a special curriculum designed for students with autism. He now knows his numbers and letters and can read some basic sight words. "Miss Y/L/N do you really think that he will like it? You know he is my very favorite Avenger." You stoop down and examine his card closer as you take his little hand in yours and help him sign his name.

“I think he will love it, Darius.” The little boy looks up at you with his large chocolate eyes and smiles. His large smile could touch his eyes without even trying. Suddenly there is a knock at the door. You stand up as you run your hands down your black pencil skirt. Look professional, breathe, and they will have fun. Secretly you are as excited as your students and thankful that you had chosen your favorite black skirt with black and white blouse for today. “Ok, guys let’s give them a warm welcome,” you announce to the class. Seven little faces beam up at you as they all smile and look excitedly at the door. The kids have waited so long for this day and they can’t wait to meet their favorite superheroes.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and open the door where you are presently surprised to have three of them visit with your students. Clint, Steve, and Bucky stroll into your classroom with a round of cheers from your students. They take turns introducing themselves and shaking hands with you as well as each student. As they mingle and talk to the students you look upon them in awe. Especially one Mr. Bucky Barnes. He seems to take a liking to the students immediately. His Greek god-like features make you nervous. You watch him intensely and notice he spends a lot of time hanging out with Darius. Bucky’s eyes find you as he gives you a slight smirk. You blush knowing that you just got caught checking him out.

“So what do you think of him?” Laura, your paraprofessional, asks as she bumps down the temperature in your classroom. You eye her suspiciously as she just shrugs. “It’s 100 degrees out today and we have three very hot guys in this room….Besides, you asked me to…”

“Keep me from saying anything stupid, and keep me in check,” you mutter as you tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear eyeing the men as they visit your students.

“And?”

“I think I said, I was hoping the Greek god would cool me down not heat me up!” Laura throws back her head in laughter which in turn catches the ears of Bucky. He excuses himself from Darius and begins walking toward you two.

“Here comes the Greek god,” Laura mumbles playfully.

You look up with a wide-eyed expression. “Who has a great sense of hearing, remember?” you retort through a gritted smile. She gives you a wicked smile as her green eyes shine brightly. “Don’t you dare…”

“Me? Now would I ever do anything that would embarrass you Miss Y/L/N?”

“Every chance you get,” you giggle “but I’ve known you for how long? And outside of work you would any chance you get. Don’t you remember when…” Your words trail off as you come face to face with a set of bright blue eyes. His hair pulled back loosely, scruff, stonewashed jeans, and a black polo with the Avengers symbol on the left breast. Oh god, help me. Breathe y/n, breathe. “Augh, hi Mr. Barnes.” Laura turns and lets out a small giggle walking toward Clint who is asking about your curriculum and teaching style. You both know your job here will be might be ending this year due to budget cuts so she is determined to put a good word in with whoever on your behalf no matter when or where.

“Bucky, please.”

“Bucky.” The name tastes like sweet honey on your lips and you know right then you could get drunk on his name with just one taste.

“I was just wondering who is in the photo behind you?” He motions to the shelf behind you with his right hand as your heart stops for a moment.

“Pic…picture? Oh,” you spin around and look at it for a moment. It is a young man in a Class A Army uniform. You turn back around and smile. “My grandfather. He, ugh, he served during World War II in the South Pacific.” You beam up looking into his eyes. He smiles at you and your heart skips a beat again.

“Where are you from?”

“Y/H/S (your home state).”

“So how did you end up here? I mean in New York?”

“I wanted an adventure,” you answer honestly, “and a change of scenery so here I am. It gives me a chance to make a difference and experience the world I guess. My family thinks I’m crazy for it but you know… .” Bucky stuffs his hands in his pockets looking at you intensely for a moment.

“I think it’s very brave of you and shows that you are willing to do whatever it takes to make a difference for kids especially these here.”

“Th..thank you,” you stammer as you make your way beside him for a moment stooping down to hand Sara her card she made for Captain America. She reaches her little hand out as she rolls her wheelchair closer to Steve. She is a huge Captain America fan. You can’t help but laugh for a moment as she reaches out with her small hand and grabs hold of Steve’s right arm.

“Do you have a girlpen? Can I be et? I wike you avot.” She asks dead serious-looking up at his face. Steve smiles, stoops down and takes Sara’s small six-year-old hand in his large one.

“I think I may be a little too old for you, Doll, but you can be my best little friend until you find a boyfriend.” Sara ponders his response for a moment and then smiles widely as she hugs Steve content with his answer.

“Sorry, you were saying?” You turn and face Bucky for a moment. He shifts nervously from one foot to another for a moment while stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“How about you? You have a boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Well, in that case, can I get your number or better yet “On fait quoi ce soir?” (What are we doing tonight?) He raises his eyebrow in question with a smirk. You process his words quickly thanks to the little bit of French class you had in college. You give him a stern look; the one you give your students sometimes, and he knows immediately his cocky play won’t work with you. He opens his mouth to try again as you raise your eyes in question. This stops his next cocky remark dead in its tracks. You're not like the other modern-day girls he has dated. Just because he is an Avenger that is great eye candy doesn’t mean you are going to run into his open arms begging him to take you in more ways than you can imagine. “Coffee date?” he chuckles.

“Coffee sounds nice. Here,” you take your blue pen and scribble your number down onto a pink sticky note handing it to him. “Call me Bucky and we’ll go from there. Please.”

“It’s a date doll,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease, “ I mean y/n.” You feel your cheeks pink up as you return his smile.

By the end of their visit that afternoon, Bucky found a small friend in Darius and had your successfully scored number stored in his phone.

(October)

“I can’t believe you gave him the teacher look,” Laura states, pouring you a cup of coffee. You are sitting at a small table overlooking Central Park. The fall leaves of golds and oranges rushing in the trees make the park lovely this time of year.

“And I can’t believe you are working here where I am about to have a date with Bucky.” You sigh looking nervously down at your phone twisting it loosely in your hands. “He should be here in ten minutes. What if he doesn’t show Laura? What if he really doesn’t like me. He is an Avenger and damn good looking. Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into?” You ask staring out the window with a sigh.

“Y/N. Stop it,” she snaps. You turn your attention back to her as you hear the bell of the quiet shop doorbell ring as it is pushed open. In steps Bucky Barnes. His hair is framing his face, the right amount of scruff on his face, maroon Henley with a pair of dark jeans. A small smile creeps onto his face as he sees you sitting at the table. Your breath hitches and you don’t know whether it is him or not but right now you have to will your body to breathe. Laura looks up to see what has caught your glare as she whispers “breathe and smile,” before walking away as Bucky approaches you.

“Hi. Wow, you look beautiful doll.” He stares truthfully moving to sit down on the cushioned chair in front of you. You can’t help but smile. You had only changed ten times looking for the right dress to wear before deciding on a light mingled fall color hauteur dress. The matching blue sweater discarded around the back of your chair for ten minutes now. Yes, you had been early but Laura had calmed your nerves, well at least some of them.

“Thank you.” You shake your head in disbelief. No man has ever got you feeling this way and now you nervously fidget with the corner of your flowing skirt. Bucky gives you a smirk reading you perfectly. Of course, he does.

He clears his throat before speaking snapping you out of your trance. “I’m glad you agreed to meet me. I really had my doubts you would.” You cock your head at him in question.

“Why?” You ask while taking a swig of your coffee.

“Just because you're not like the typical dames, I mean, women I date. You’re, well, you’re not impressed because of my job nor care to bang me just because of it.” You almost choke in your drink and have to cough to cover up a slight giggle. Bucky gives you a wide-eyed look for a moment as you gain your composure. Boy, he is a cocky son of a bitch, you think.

“No, I’ve never been the type of wham bam thank you ma’am type of woman I guess. It’s fine for others but not me.” Secretly you're hoping that he's not that type of guy. Bucky shakes his head yes in understanding. His jaw set firm for a moment before speaking.

“Good to know because I’m tired of girls like those.” You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He takes a sip of his coffee Laura has just put down in front of him. “Hey, don’t you work with her?” His eyes knit together in question.

“Yes, she’s my teacher’s aide. Laura works here part-time to help pay her bills; it’s hard for her to make a living on a small salary.” You give him a small smile as you take another sip. “Why did it take you forever to call me?” You ponder out loud. It’s been a month since you have given him your number.

“I was on a mission,” Bucky answers bluntly. You feel your body tense up from his tone. You didn’t mean to sound so bitchy. Great, you are blowing this big time. He eyes you as you glance down nervously at your cup then back up. Bucky can’t help but notice your embarrassment and he now regrets his tone as well.

“Oh, I augh…I’m glad you are ok. Sorry I didn’t mean to sound, I don’t know, like a bitch about it really…” Bucky shakes his head no and it stops you dead in your tracks.

“No, no please don’t apologize,” he says quietly as his eyes soften. He reaches out and rests his large hand on top of yours sending calming vibes throughout your body. “You would have no idea.” Your body immediately relaxes from his touch, causing him to give you a small smile. “Trust me, I wasn’t blowing you off I promise it’s not like that because when I see something I want I generally go after it.” Your face becomes flushed at his words as you give him a small smile.

“Good to know.”

You two spend the next two hours getting to know one another. He asks you questions about your family and grandparents. You ask him about him and what he enjoys most in this modern time. The conversation comes easy and by the time the sun is starting to set all you want is for him to ask you out again. Bucky takes your hand softly in his and walks you out of the coffee shop down the street. You shiver slightly in the cool autumn air and pull your sweater close around your body.

Bucky stops and moves in front of you. He removes his black bomber jacket and drapes it around your shoulders.the coolness of his left hand sends delightful shivers down your spine. He gives you a cocky smile and pulls you closer to him. You stand there frozen for a moment trying to make a comprehensive sentence, however you are lost in his sapphire eyes. His eyes flicker to your lips and back up almost asking for permission to kiss you. Your lips part for a moment to speak but nothing comes out. He cups your face with his right hand stroking your pink lips slightly with his thumb. He bends down and softly tastes your lips. His kiss sends shock waves through your body. Your lips move in sync with his almost like they have been waiting for his plump lips since the beginning of time.

After a moment Bucky breaks the kiss.“Go out with me again. In fact, date only me. What do you say, Doll?”

“Ye-Yes," you stammer as your heart races so fast that you know he can hear it. Bucky looks down at you and smirks.

“So,” he drapes his arm around your shoulders as you both continue to walk down the sidewalk “you know I’m at the compound now upstate.” You hum in agreement still coming down from your high. “We have to work out the distance thing.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing that I have my cottage in upstate New York.” You snuggle closer to him enjoying his warmth.

“Cottage?” He gives you a sideways glance. “How can you pay the rent in two places?”

“The cottage I inherited from my grandparents. I’m up there almost every weekend and especially on breaks. Why?”

“Like I said when I see something I want Doll, I usually go for it hard,” he answers cockily while giving you a smirk. You stop walking and look up at him. His cocky soldier ways work great on the battlefield but that is something he doesn’t need to do in order to impress you and you hate the name Doll he keeps using. What are you? Plastic or something. Might as well address that now.

“Are you always this cocky Winter?” You tease. Buck cocks his eyebrow at you giving you an amused puzzled look that you can’t help but giggle at.

“Winter?” He draws the word out slowly as to be testing it on his lips.

“Yep just figured if you were calling me Doll I needed to call you something as well.” You say with sass.

“So I gather you don’t like Doll. Hmm how about honey?” He takes his large hand in yours. You shake your head no as you scrunch up your nose.

“That’s even worse. Sounds like I’m Winnie the Pooh or something,” you answer giving him a teasing smile that Bucky returns.

“Ok, how about Darlin’?” He questions with an eyebrow raised. You smile widely and he knows right away that is what you like.

“So Darlin’ it is.” Bucky chuckles causing a small blush to creep up onto your cheeks. He pulls you closer to his side as he walks you to your black Accord. You click the unlock button on your remote and he opens the door for you as you slide into the driver's seat. Bucky leans down and kisses you again softly. “I’ll call you tonight Darlin’.”

“You better Winter.” He beams down at you as you look up at him through your eyelashes. “Oh, your jacket!” You hand it to him. Bucky pulls it on now having it smell like your perfume. He knows Sam will probably rag him about it but he could care less. You kiss him on the cheek and drive away as every fiber in your body is calling out to you to stay.

(Later)

“How did the date go with Y/N?” Steve asks as he plops down beside Bucky at the kitchen table.

“Yah man,” Sam joins in, “You haven’t told us anything. She’s not like the typical girls you bring home.”

“Whatcha mean by that Bird Brain?” Bucky growls glancing up at Sam as he takes a bite of his burger.

“Nothin’ man, just that she’s smart, attractive and seems to really like you.” He notes each one my checking them off on his fingers. “Damn you must have done something to impress her.”

“Guess so,” Bucky grumbles. “Or, maybe I’m just damn lucky.”

#marvel #bucky barnes #avengers #robin writes #steverogers #clintbarton #sam willson #marvel fluff bingo #winter’s lessons #nicolasfam #bucky x reader #darlin' writes #mcu fanfic #avenger fanfiction #marvel fanfic series

[djxrxn]

lady of the house

paz vizsla x reader

warnings: explicit sexual content! cursing, oral (female recieving), consentual loss of virginity, unprotected vaginal sex, some edging, breeding kink, creampie, slight cum play, paz is a little rough

word count: 3.7 k

a/n: okay !! thank you to the anon who suggested this !! so this is a au of sorts - it’s definitely inspired by @magichandthing’s clan au in terms of how the houses and elders work, but i sort of envisioned this as like the empire never took mandalore so all of the major clans and houses are still around au !! this is also sort of a trial run - lady of the house is going to be a series ! i really want to like elaborate and expand on how the two met and how their relationship grows so yeehaw !! thank you AS ALWAYS to my loves miss k ( @jangofctts​ ) and miss e ( @bobafctts ) who are extremely supportive and kind and helpful ugh my QUEENS!! ily so much !! okay enjoy !

The sky looked like it was on fire. Gorgeous oranges and vibrant yellows streaked across the great vast that hung over your head. A soft pink danced among clouds, a soft violet hung around the stars that started to show above the small moon you were on. The two suns were almost done slinking behind the horizon, and you could feel the last beams of sunlight graze against your face before the cool night settled down.

You were glad you had chosen to wear something that revealed more of your back tonight - you felt his hand trail down your spine and settle on the small of your back. 

Paz Vizsla pulled you closer to his chest. Another gloved hand went to cradle your shoulder, his touch gentle and reverent. 

“It’s getting dark - I don’t want you to be cold,” he said. Paz held out his hand to you. “I, uh, can I escort you inside?”

His hand held yours - it always surprised you how large his hands were compared to you, how little you were in his shadow - he guided you through the plush courtyard and ushered you inside before the cold could catch up to you two. 

As he lead you through the long hallways and twisting corridors - stairways that lead to sections of the estate you had never seen, Elders who crossed your path with a respectful nod, Mandalorian warriors clad head-to-toe in Beskar steel, all of it a complete distraction - the request you had spent all day carefully wording began to slither up your throat. 

It had been a few months since the announcement of your betrothal to Paz Vizsla, leader of Clan Vizsla. You were comfortable with him, you enjoyed his presence immensely, so it shouldn’t be so krifing hard to ask him if you were allowed to sleep in his bed - or, yours, you supposed. It didn’t really matter, as long as you were with him.You just wanted to sleep in his arms, to feel his body curl around yours.

You swallowed your nerves. It was time to ask him - now.  “Clan Leader Vi-”

“Paz,” he said, squeezing your hand. “You’re my wife to be, you’re allowed to call me Paz.”

You looked away, your smile breaking apart your mouth, the blush on your cheeks growing almost too warm. His hand moved to guide your face back to his direction. Your eyes flicked to the black void of his visor. 

Wife. 

For weeks, the word made your stomach turn. For weeks, the idea of being the Leader of Clan Vizsla’s wife made your whole world spin. Hearing Paz’s name fall from your family’s mouths send you into a rage. You through fits and had tried every way possible to get out of this arrangement. 

But meeting Paz Vizsla was entirely different than what you had envisioned. You had anticipated a huge brute, a rude man who gave no regards to what you thought or what you wanted. 

Well, you got a huge brute, but -

“I didn’t mean-“ Paz stumbled over his words, not quite sure whether to apologize or to explain. “I only meant-“

“It’s okay,” you said, a soft smile finding its way to your face as you gave the word a try: “I don’t mind the idea being called your wife.”

A choking noise echoed from under his helmet. He faltered, not knowing what to say or do. Paz seemed stuck. He stopped walking. 

“What, not interested in me anymore?” Your voice echoed, clearly teasing him.

Paz’s hands hesitated as he reached for you - pausing slightly before surging on to hold your face. “I don’t think I could want you more,” he brushed his thumb over your cheek before tugging your head towards his. Your foreheads tapped together in a Keldabe kiss.

“What changed?” He asked softly.

“I mean - it’s not that I -“ 

You let out a frustrated noise, your brow furrowing up. You weren’t really sure how to word it correctly to him - you had been struggling to find a specific word, to pin down a specific emotion that you could explain. 

“I wanted to be married,” you said, chewing up the words, slowly getting your point across, like any syllable had the potential to hurt Paz if you weren’t careful. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt your betrothed. “And I wanted a family, I just… I just wanted everything to be on my terms.”

He nodded. “I understand that…”

A smile - sweet and genuine and adoring - crossed your face. “You’ve been patient, I appreciate it.”

Paz shrugged. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I wasn’t going to force you into something you didn’t want.”

“And…” You said, “What if I want something now?”

He laughed, tugging you along. “You know I’ll give you whatever you want. All you have to do is ask.” 

You arrived at your room too early for your liking - there was still so much you wanted from him, more touches, more affection. You didn’t want the day to end just to be alone for the whole night. 

He cleared his throat. “This is you.”

“Right…”

You waited a moment before looking at the ground. “Would…”

Paz lifted a finger to your chin, guiding your gaze back to his visor. “Ask me anything - I’m serious, whatever you want -”

“I just want you,” you said, your confession slightly taking you aback with how sure you sounded, how confident your desire for him was. “Will you… do you want to come in?”

He nodded immediately, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “Sure - I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, but do you want to come in?”

This helmet cocked to the side, and you had a feeling that if he wasn’t wearing a helmet, you would have seen Paz roll his eyes at you.

“Of course I want to come in.”

You stopped in front of the door. It slid up with a shink, revealing your room.

Lavish barely begins to describe your room. A dark blue theme echoed throughout the room, an obvious reminder of the clan you would belong to. Couches draped in soft fabrics littered the lower half of your bedroom. They were adorned with elaborate embroidery, trailing around the cushions and armrests - more time had been spent into these couches than another furniture you had seen before. The bed, larger than any you had ever slept, begged to be inhabited by two bodies. You wanted Paz to lay with you in the silk sheets, to cradle your body as you admired the murals sewn into the canopy. 

“So,” he said “You got me in your room - now what?”

“Oh, uh…” You glanced over at the bed, but thought better of it. “I, uh, mostly just wanted some alone time with you.” 

“As opposed to the time we were just spending?” 

You gave him a nervous smile. “I just thought we could use some privacy-”

“Oh, you mean you weren’t having a great time standing outside while every other member of the Clan watched us?” He poked your sides, and you giggled, swatting at his chest for him to stop - “You mean you didn’t enjoy that?” 

You pushed at his shoulder - he barely moved. He held his palm up to your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. 

 “You look nervous, what's wrong?” His hand dropped to rest near your neck. Your heartbeat felt uncomfortably loud in your own ears - you were almost positive he could feel it too. 

“I, um, I want to-”

Now. Now was the time - he had never rejected your small advances before, whether it was to dine with him, or inviting him on your daily walks. And even if he did refuse you, Paz had given you no reason to think that he would be cruel about it.

Right?

“-Sleep with you.”

He paused. He dropped his hands away from you - your stomach dropped and no, no, no -

“Was that it?” Paz asked flatly. “That’s what you were trying to ask me?”

You scoffed. “Yes, that was it.” 

He shrugged. “I just figured the request would be a lot, uh, worse?” 

“Well, I mean, we aren’t exactly wed yet, and -”

“Oh.” He paused for a moment. “Baby, are you asking to sleep in my bed or…?”

You stopped. You hadn’t considered the option to actually sleep with your betrothed. 

Fuck, it sounded so nice.

“I’m-“ You lowered your voice. “I was asking to just sleep in your bed, but, uh, now I’m asking to sleep with you.”

Paz did say anything for a moment. You felt your pulse spike, and your chest felt tight,

“I just wasn’t sure - that’s why I never brought it up, and I didn’t want to, uh…” You swallowed. “Assume, you know.”

“I know.”

Paz gave a small hum, tracing the curve of your cheeks with a single digit. 

“I don’t want to disrespect the Way,” you rambled on, twisting at your fingers. “I’m- I’m not really sure how that works…”

His finger traveled across your jaw. You let out a short huff when his finger moved to tease your lips. “I really just want you.”

“I was hoping you would ask me.” His voice was low and dark - you have never heard it like this before. It went to the pulse between your legs, stoking a fire in you.

You were so willing to burn for Paz.

He tugged at your clothes. “Take these off, and lay down on the bed, pretty.”

You swallowed, your nerves spiking you with your blood. Your steps towards the bed were nervous and unsure - you almost tripped as you moved up the few steps to the upper half of your room. 

Your face felt like it was on fire. You slipped out of your garments, your hands trembling over your skin until you were stark naked - 

A rip cut through your nerves. Your head whirled around to see that Paz had ripped off a piece of the thickest blanket from one of the couches. 

His visor moved up to graze your naked form. 

“Maker, you’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “You’re just saying that because I’m naked, Paz.”

“Mm.”

He took a few steps towards you, but he didn’t ascend to the upper half of the room.

“I, uh,” he started. “I can’t take off the helmet.”

“Right…”

Paz held up the piece of silver fabric. “If you wear this, and cover your eyes up, we can have, uh, a little leeway.”

“Leeway?” You raised an eyebrow. “Is this… is this a loophole?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Are you complaining?”

“No,” you said quickly. 

He gave another light laugh, and finally stepped up to you. 

He was still wearing so much armor, so much clothing. You supposed you never noticed it until you were standing in front of him with nothing on.

Your lips parted as Paz held the fabric up to your eyes, a small noise escaping as he tied it in a knot behind your head. His fingers brushed away any stray hairs, tucking them behind your ears, and then his touch was gone.

The sound of leather being pulled, the soft scraping of metal against cloth, a sharp clank of metal colliding against metal - 

A thud echoed to your left, and you jumped back. You really couldn’t see anything - you felt vulnerable, everything familiar to you became unknown and cold to you. 

You jump again when two hands - large, rough, sturdy, warm - graze your rib cage. 

Then his body moved closer to you, and you felt his bare face come closer to yours, and his soft lips were moving over yours, and then you felt his hot tongue on your bottom lip, and you couldn’t help the small moan that left you.

“Eager, are we?” You felt him smirk against your mouth.

“I’ve thought about this before,” you mumbled. 

“Oh, baby, so have I.” Paz nudged you back and back until your ankles were bumping into the frame of the bed. “Want me to show you what I’ve been thinking of?”

You nodded. His hands moved over your skin to push down on your shoulders, guiding you to sit down on the bed. When you attempted to crawl backwards, he held your knees and pulled you back to the edge of the bed.

“No, no, no,” he hummed as you heard him lower to his knees and spread your legs apart. “Like this - and lay back.”

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Maker, you were so wet. You could feel it dripping down your pussy and onto your thighs. You laid back, did as he said - 

And then you felt his hot tongue swipe over your cunt, and you melted down into the sheets.

Everything felt so hot - you clit was throbbing when he circled it, begging for more touch than he was teasing you with. 

You mumbled his name and reached out for him. Paz pulled away - you gave a pitiful whine - and he guided your hands to the top of his head. 

Your fingers wound themselves in his hair - soft, it was so soft, was it curly too, you weren’t sure, because you felt the muscle of his tongue press against your hole, and every thought suddenly didn’t fucking matter to you.

His thumb rubbed a rough circle into your bundle of nerves. You felt your release coming quick, roaring up behind you, threatening to overwhelm everything.

“I’m close,” you choked out. “Paz, please, I’m close.” 

You felt his tongue be replaced by two of his fingers and you felt the wave of pleasure finally crash. 

He built you up so quickly - a feeling that you should almost be embarrassed with how fast he got you off graced your foggy mind only for a moment. Then the bed shifted as Paz crawled up over you.

“Do you want to keep going?” 

“Yes,” you breathed. You didn’t need to think about it. “I want, I want you inside -”

You heard him swallow. His hand gently traced the curve of your breasts, slowly trailing down your chest. 

“Can I ask you why?”

“You want to know... why I want you inside of me?”

He snorted. “You know what I mean.”

You did. 

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh?” 

“About younglings, actually,” a warm feeling bloomed in your chest at the thought of carrying Paz child, and the overwhelming urge to mother his children, to bear the heirs of Clan Vizsla overtook any other desire. “I was being serious earlier - I want this.”

He stretched out his hand over your stomach. “You really want younglings?” 

“Paz, I want your younglings,” you said. “I know nothing is official-”

“You’re already mine,” his voice rumbled. “What we do now is up to us.”

You felt your heartbeat race a little as his hands left you to stroke his cock - you heard him grit his teeth and the words flew out of your mouth.

“I want this… and I want you, and- and I want you to use me-“

Paz growled your name, and your words turned into a tiny whimper.

His hips twitched forwards as he lined himself up with your entrance. You breathing started to come in as shallow pants, your heart was racing, everything felt too much, too fast, and - 

Paz looked up at you. You heard a low chuckle echo from his vocal modulator. “Doll, you gotta breath.”

You inhaled - he rubbed circled into your thighs with his thumb, and let out a soft hum. And there it was - Paz welcomed calm in between you, settled your nerves like he always did with you. He wouldn’t let you fall, now or ever.

“Just relax,” he hummed. “You’ve… have you ever done this before?” 

You shook your head - you almost gave an excuse, but Paz just squeezed your thigh. 

“Okay,” he said, “Okay, we can start, uh, slower.”

“I want you,” you repeated meekly, reaching out your hands to grip his shoulders. You could feel the scars from his battles and sieges, could feel his warmth skin, and Maker, fuck, you wanted to see him.

You heard him grit his teeth as the head of his cock nudged into your cunt. You opened your mouth in a silent moan as his girth stretched you out, opened you wide to take him. Your head tipped back onto the bed, your legs already shaking. He stopped short, not quite sheathing himself inside of you.

Good girl,” he mumbled, “You’re such a good girl.”

The first thrust was shallow, almost inquisitive - simply testing the waters with how much you could handle. Not that you could see, but you squeezed your eyes shut, the resistance your body gave him giving way to fire you had never felt before, a burning the felt new and good and terrifyingly vast. Each thrust grew deeper, pushing into you more, until his hips were nudging against yours. 

“Fuck, Paz -“ You breathing came in as pants, your lungs were on fire, like no amount of air would ever be enough. “This f-feels - you feel, M-maker, so fucking good.”

“Oh, honey,” he purred, “Don’t I know it.” 

He snapped his hips. Your breath was knocked out of your chest as he started his actual pace, rough and brutal, leaving no air to scream his name like you wanted to. His hands flew to your wrists, prying them away from his skin to pin them over your head. .

The pleasure in your stomach felt sickenly tight, threatening to snap. 

“Paz-” You shrieked, your voice high and strained. “Paz, I’m close.”

“What’s that?” You didn’t see him smirk as his thrusts slowed. “Did you say something?”  

You whined his name again. “I’m- I’m gonna cum, Paz, please don’t stop.”

And then Paz stopped moving completely. He leaned down to nuzzle his face against our sternum. Your whines were pathetic, and they only made him smirk more. 

His breath fanned over your chest, pulling up goosebumps and shivers as he nipped at the taught skin over your sternum. Then he tilted his head to drag his hot tongue along the sides of your breast, moving to kiss your peaked nipples. 

Then his mouth clamped down, biting over the curves of your chest. You let out a small yelp.

“Paz.”

Paz tugged at your nipple before moving to your other breast, kissing and biting, biding his time patiently as the fire he had so quickly built up in you died down. 

You clenched your jaw when you felt your eyes sting. An emptiness settled in your hips and you were almost upset at him for taking your orgasm away from you. Then Paz mumbled your name against your collar bone as he made his way up your neck. His hands went down, down, down, until they almost connected with the bundle of nerves he had neglected. You whimpered as he teased around it.

“Aw, honey,” you felt him smile against your skin. 

“You look so cute when you get all needy… Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you said, your hands reaching up to his face.

“What was I just doing?” 

“No, I- “

You let out a whine as you swallowed whatever pride you had brought before him.

“Paz, please, Maker, please make me cum - I want to cum,” you choked, desperate for him to do anything.

“Baby girl,” his hips rocking back into you - your head tipped back and you let out a high pitched wail as you felt his cock brush against your cervix.

His new pace was more - it was faster, rougher, you felt him fucking you in your bones, threatening to shatter you into tiny little pieces. 

Forget fire. This was sharp and bright, absolutely catastrophic to your cunt. It was white hot and it was eating up your skin, tearing apart your chest, and leaving you a simmering body of ashes.

“Cum inside,” you shrieked suddenly, taking both you you by surprise. “I want you to fill- fill me up - use me, Paz.”

“That what you want, doll?” Paz gave a low groan as you clenched around him at the time of his voice. “You want me to give you a youngling? You want me to get you pregnant?”

“Yes,” you shrieked. Your nails dug into the muscle of his arms. “P-please.”

“You want me to fill you up with my cum?” His laugh came out in a breathless bark as your hips tilted up to his. Paz lifted up your legs to push them against your chest. “Nasty- filthy girl.”

And just like that, the tension snapped, the coils of heat finally breaking. You screamed as you came, your spine arching up, your legs shaking against you. Your blood roared in your ears - if you weren’t wearing the blindfold you were certain you wouldn’t be able to see anyways.

One of Paz’s hands left your legs to grab your shoulder as he gave an another thrust, and another, and -

He started to growl out your name before it became a garbled, low groan when he came. You felt him spill inside of you, his hot cum coating your walls. You echoed Paz’s groan, the feeling of his seed sending you back into your bliss. 

Paz didn’t move for a good moment. You could feel him softening inside of you when he pulled out. His thumb brushed against your hole - you twitched as you realized his was pushing whatever cum had spilled back into your fluttering cunt.

Everything was silent in the room, the only noise was yours and Paz’s breathing. Your heart started to slow. You finally caught your breath, your breathing moved as deep breaths. 

“Okay, so, your first time,” he spoke after a minute. “How do you feel?”

“You know, I’m probably just never going to have sex again - it was pretty terrible,” you teased as he nestled up besides you. 

“Oh, sure, sure, sure,” he laughed. “No, I could tell - you were having a horrible time.”

“I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings, you know,” you giggled. Paz tugged the makeshift blindfold off of your eyes. He had shut the lights off - nothing in the room was visible. You wished again for a moment that you could actually see your betrothed, but then his hands were guiding your face forwards to meet his lips, and the thought vanished.

“It was- I was being dumb, Paz, it felt so fucking good,” you whispered, your eyes started to droop.

“I know, baby girl.”

You sighed. You laid your head against his chest, his steady heartbeat pulling you into sleep. Before you closed your eyes, you mumbled against his skin, “I think I love you.”

Paz let out a small hum. He nuzzled his face against the top of your head - he couldn’t help the small sigh of relief that left him. 

“I think I love you too.” 

#AHHHH #shes out here #sdhcsjdhcsh #enjoy !! #paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz visla #paz visla x reader #paz visla x you #paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #star wars #the mandalorian

[kyber-crystal]

Baby Fever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.4k

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to work up your courage is a little push. And Steve receives just that. When the two of you go to babysit Morgan, he gets a little sneak peek into what a future with you could be like - and he doesn`’t want to let that thought go.

Warnings: this sucks lol, but it’s just a bunch of fluff

A/N: so a lot of my oneshots are about getting INTO relationships instead of being in one prior, but I just couldn’t resist this trope ugh. I CANT RESIST DAD! STEVE UGHHH. also i decided to start making moodboards, inspired by @marvelsswansong teehee. dedicating this to @rynhaswritersblock​ , who recently joined tumblr! I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUU 

...

“Are you guys sure about this?” Pepper looked back and forth between you and Steve as she packed up the last of her things, rolling the suitcases to the front door. "She's a lot to handle...and I know you guys already have a lot on your plate and all.."

"I'm sure," you gave her a reassuring smile, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We're going to have fun, right, Morgan?"

"Yeah!" the little Stark giggled, raising her arms in the air, "We're gonna have so much fun together!"

"We'll be back by tomorrow night," Tony informed you, leaning down to kiss Morgan's forehead, "Bye, sweetheart. Make sure to behave for them, okay?"

"Okay!"

"I can't thank you guys enough," Pepper stated. "It's been forever since we were last able to get a break like this."

"You deserve it," you nodded, "now go! Shoo! Don't worry and just relax! That's the whole point of you going on this trip."

"Alright, alright," she chuckled, "see you soon, then!"

As soon as the door closed behind them, Morgan immediately jumped up into your arms. "Let's go play!"

"What do you want to do?" you asked.

"A tea party!"

"Well..." Steve looked down at his watch, "it's getting close to lunchtime, so how about we have something to eat first, and then we'll play, okay?"

"Yay!"

While you kept Morgan busy, Steve got set to making a simple lunch of grilled cheese for you all to eat. When he brought the plates to the living room, he saw saw you sitting in between Morgan's legs as she was plopped down on the couch, pulling your hair up into a high bun.

"Now, what's this?" Steve raised an eyebrow as he set down the food on the coffee table, ruffling Morgan's hair. "Did you bother her?"

"She didn't," you laughed lightly, "don't worry."

"Do you like it?" Morgan giggled. "I think she looks super pretty!"

"I approve," Steve nodded, giving the little girl a thumbs-up.

"So, Morgan," you cleared your throat, "Who's your favorite Avenger?"

"Daddy is!"

"Besides your dad."

"You!"

“And why is that?”

“Because you can shoot lasers out of your eyes and control the weather! And that’s really really cool!”

“I think you just hurt Steve’s feelings,” you reminded her.

“He’s my second favorite!”

“Really, kiddo?” Steve raised a brow, “after all I’ve done for you? Who took you out to ice cream after your dance recital? Who let you have dessert before dinner when your dad was too busy working? Who let you go sledding with their shield?”

“But Y/N is the cool auntie!”

"See that, Cap? She likes me more than you," you smirked, nudging Steve in the shoulder. "I'm her favorite."

Steve scoffed. “I’m right behind you. I’m her second favorite.”

"I'm better than you are, though."

After you were all done eating, Morgan grabbed Steve’s hand, then motioned for you to all follow her upstairs to her room. Within five minutes you were all dressed up with feathery boas, colorful scarves, bejeweled sunglasses, and bright pink birthday hats.

"You look ridiculous," you snorted as you adjusted Steve’s fuchsia feather boa and sunglasses. "I could just take a picture of you right now and store it for future blackmail use."

"Don't you dare," he warned.

Too late. You already had your phone out and he blinked in surprise as the flash went off. You giggled as you saw the surprise evident in his face.

"Ooh! Let's take a group selfie!" Morgan jumped up and down. Steve let out a sigh but as soon as he saw the eager look in her eyes he couldn't resist. You crowded together as you quickly took the group picture, making funny faces because she insisted on doing so.

Pepper was right in saying Morgan was a lot to handle. If being an Avenger was the most difficult thing to do, this had to be the second hardest job to take. By the time dinner rolled around, you were tired out of your mind from running around the backyard throwing a Frisbee back and forth, commentating on Barbie movies together, cartwheeling through the halls, climbing trees, and her undoing and redoing your hair.

"Why don't you take a break. I'll get dinner ready," Steve offered. "You need to rest."

"But St-" you began.

"It's fine," he waved you both off, "you deserve it."

"Thank you," you yawned, stretching your arms up in the air. As soon as you flopped down onto the couch, you drifted off.

“Auntie Y/N? Where are...oh!” Morgan hopped over and peered over the sofa, seeing that you were fast asleep. She picked up the blanket that had been strewn aside from earlier, and carefully pulled it over your body, before patting your forehead and skipping off to the kitchen to find Steve.

“Uncle Steve!” She tugged on the super-soldier’s pant leg, and he looked down from where he was chopping up cilantro at the counter. The heavenly smell of Italian spice blends began filling the air. “What are you making?”

“Garlic tomato basil chicken,” he responded with a soft smile as he set his knife down and washed his hands, crouching down to her eye level. “It’s almost ready. Is Y/N still asleep?”

“Uh huh.”

“Why don’t you wake her up for me, while I go set the table. Sounds good?”

“Yup!”

"Y/N, WAKE UP!" she began jumping up and down wildly. "Wake up wake up wake up wake up!"

You groaned and stirred awake, rubbing your eyes as you stood up. "Who woke me u- oh, hey!"

"Were you tired?"

"Yes, Morgan, very," you gave her a tired smile, "so I took a nap. Are you not tired?"

"Nope!"

“Alright,” you exhaled, picking her up. “Let’s go eat!” She instantly rested her head against your shoulder.

Steve watched you pick Morgan up and spin her around as she let out a squeal - and felt a rush of pride wash over him in seeing you being so playful with the little girl. You'd make an excellent parent to his future child, he thought to himself. All you needed now was a ring around your finger. 

He felt his heart race at the thought - since when did he start feeling this way about you?

"Dinner's ready!"

"Uncle Steve, are you one of those chef guys on TV?" Morgan's eyes widened in awe as she slid into her seat, looking down at her plate. "This looks super cool! How did you do this?"

"No, I'm not," Steve laughed, "This just takes a lot of practice."

For the majority of dinner, Morgan retold little memories along the lines of 'Remember when that one time you came over for Daddy’s birthday and then Uncle Steve came too and I went sledding with his shield? That was so fun!" 

The five year-old was definitely talkative, but nobody minded at all. She was too adorable that it didn't matter how chatty she was - even you, the tough, seemingly coldhearted Agent Y/N had warmed up to her.

After a long, jam-packed day, Morgan was completely knocked out, splayed out across the couch clutching her favorite stuffed duck. You quietly crept towards her and picked her up, carrying her upstairs to her room and gently laying her down in bed.

You lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as her brown hair fell around her face like a little halo, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took. A small smile found its way onto your face as you stood there.

Suddenly you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

"Hey," Steve exhaled, resting his chin on top of your head. You could feel his warm breath against your neck as he spoke. "What're you standing here for?"

"Hmmm...just watching, making sure she's alright..." you hummed, placing your hands over his as he gently rocked you both from side to side. "Uh...what time is it?"

"10:30."

"Wow. Who knew she could tire you out so quickly," you let out a yawn. "I normally don't go to bed until 1 or 2, or at all for that matter."

"You should get ready for bed, too," he suggested, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Come on. You’re sharing the guest room with me, if you don’t mind."

"Sounds good," you yawned again as he released you from his hold, closing the door before turning around and following him down the hall.

You were too worn out to change or wash up, crawling underneath the covers and pulling them up to your chin. Steve slid into bed besides you, and within minutes you were both fast asleep.

"Yeah!" Morgan squealed, jumping up and down on the mattress. "Auntie Y/N! Uncle Steve! Stop cuddling and get up because it's time to eat!"

The two of you slowly stirred awake, then when you realized the compromising position you were in you quickly pulled apart, sitting up as you rubbed your eyes and ducked your heads slightly to hide the blush on your faces.

"Are you guys dating?"

"No, we're not!" you and Steve replied in unison. 

"Uh huh."

Much to Morgan's delight, you ended up eating Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes for breakfast. Afterwards you took to playing Frisbee and several other games outside for a couple hours before heading back in and bingeing several episodes of Sofia the First while eating macaroni. 

Though sometimes when you glanced over at Morgan laughing and enjoying herself throughout the day, you felt a pang in your chest. You'd missed out on so many years with your parents - your early graduation from Penn State, being promoted to commander of SHIELD’s strike team at just 21, becoming an Avenger - only being able to experience a fraction of your life with them before their lives were unfairly cut short.

"Are you okay?" Steve glanced at you worriedly, placing a hand on top of yours.

"Yeah...I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Come on...what's up? Just tell me," he pleaded. "I don't like seeing you sad. It makes me sad, too."

You bit your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut. "I miss Mom and Dad...seeing Morgan reminded me so much of what I was like as a kid...the memories came flooding back. It’s been so long since then, but..."

"I know. I miss my Ma and Dad, too," he sighed. "I know it hurts, but...don't worry. Time heals all wounds. You’ll be alright."

You lifted your head from where it was resting on his shoulder, smiling slightly at him. "You know, I think that's the wisest thing I've heard you say. Not Captain America hasn’t said a lot of wise things, though."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm happy to help...you know I'm always here for you, right?"

"Mhm. I love you."

"I love you too."

When Tony and Pepper arrived the next day, they saw all of you sprawled out across the living room, cuddled up together amidst fluffy blankets and pillows. You were clinging to Steve like a koala, while Morgan was using his arm as a pillow as she hugged her stuffed duck close to her chest.

"They must've been exhausted," Pepper chuckled, resting a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"They're completely knocked out."

Morgan was the first to wake up. "Daddy!" she giggled, rushing forward and jumping into Tony's arms. "You're back!"

"Hi there," he ruffled her hair, "how did you like spending time with them?"

"It was awesome! They were the best!"

Tony's expression immediately softened as he glanced over at the still-dozing you and Steve. "I'm glad to hear that, sweetheart. Now. Let's wake them all up so they can head back to the compound."

"Hey, Cap? It's time to head home," Pepper gently shook Steve awake. He stirred slightly before sitting up, blinking several times in confusion before he saw her in front of him. "Hey."

"Oh, hi, Pepper..."

"It looks like Y/N isn't about to wake up anytime soon, though..." her brows furrowed together in concern. "She must've done a lot, huh."

"Yeah...she did..."

You stirred awake, sitting up and yawning loudly. “Oh. Tony, Pep...hey! Did I...”

“You knocked out completely,” Steve laughed. “I’ll drive. I know you’re tired.”

"Thanks,” you yawned again, placing a hand over your mouth. “I owe you.”

“No worries.”

He nodded, carefully scooping you up into his arms as Bucky woke up.

"Alright...let's get going. And Tony...it was great seeing you again."

"Likewise, Rogers. We still up for Barbados next month?"

"Definitely."

After a last round of goodbyes, you were on your way back to the Avengers HQs, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window as Steve drove.

"So,” he exhaled, adjusting his grip on the wheel, “you did good over there, putting up with her. She was a lot to deal with.”

“But we had fun, didn’t we?” you turned your head to the side, giving him a soft smile. “I now have a dozen new perfect blackmail photos of you to bring back with me.”

Steve just laughed and shook his head, “I have some of you too, you know.”

“Are you serious.”

"It’s nothing bad, you just fell asleep and I took a picture. You looked cute, if anything.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Oh.”

“You’re really good with kids, Y/N.”

“...Thanks. You are, too...Morgan loves you.”

“I’d think you’d be an amazing mother to my child someday.” The words came out so swiftly, so smoothly that he didn’t realize what he’d said until he saw your reaction.

You froze in shock. “What did you...what did you just say?”

“When can we have kids?”

“Did I just...hear you correctly...”

“But if you’re not ready to start a relationship, then I understand...I’m in it if you are. When I saw you playing with Morgan...it was like getting a little glimpse to what life with you would be like in the future, of starting a family together...and I don’t want to let go of that idea.  I can't imagine doing that with anyone else other than you."

"What's with the...sudden...confession?" you spluttered, cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

“I love you,” he said softly, gazing at you out of the corner of his eye, “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know it seems early for me to be saying something like this but I couldn’t be more confident in my answer. And if you’re willing to let me in, then...I’d be more than happy to become that ideal man you’ve always wanted to have.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

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