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dragonridersandhighlords · 2 months ago

Note

Hello!

U don’t have to write this but I was wondering if u could do a a one shot for Ridoc where he and reader are in a situationship that no one knows about but then he almost sees them die so his funny demeanour slips away and he’s worried about them.

And everyone around him is taken a back by how serious he is. This could be angsty, hurt/comfort or fluffy, truly up to u!

What We Never Said | Ridoc Gamlyn

Summary: You kept things casual because it was easier, but in the aftermath of a battle you’re forced to confront deeper feelings when someone almost doesn’t make it back

Pairing: Ridoc Gamlyn x Reader

Warnings: angst followed by fluff, violence, near death experience, emotional distress, fear, descriptions of blood and battle injuries, emotional vulnerability, gn!reader (I think I kept it pretty neutral)

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist | FW Masterlist

You and Ridoc aren’t anything official.

In the shadows of the mess hall, beneath cluttered tables, your fingers dance dangerously close, brushing against each other like whispered secrets. The late-night visits have become an unspoken ritual, and every shared laugh and fleeting touch is a game you both play—until the sun rises, and he’s just another cocky cadet among the ranks. You roll your eyes at his teasing, feign indifference when he flirts with others, all while you pretend your heart isn’t racing every time he calls you “hotshot.”

As a Rider in the Riders Quadrant, feelings are traps, emotions a liability. You’ve learned that the hard way. Better to keep things light, to keep him at arm’s length. But today is different.

When the attack hits, it comes like a thunderclap, swift and brutal. The chaos swells around you—screams cutting through the air like jagged blades, magic crackling in the sky above. Orders are lost in the wind, and before you know it, you’re separated from Ridoc, fighting for breath and survival.

You dodge one strike, parry another, adrenaline surging. But then a flash of pain slices through your side—a sharp sting just under your ribs. It’s not deep, but it’s enough to slow you down, enough to leave you vulnerable. A third strike comes, but it never lands.

Ridoc is there, a blur of motion, and suddenly the attacker crumples before you, a blade protruding from his chest. The ground rushes up to meet you, and you barely catch yourself, blood pooling beneath you, hot and heavy.

“Hey—hey, look at me,” Ridoc’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and urgent. He’s kneeling beside you, his eyes wild, face streaked with blood. You try to joke, to ease the tension, but the words stick in your throat.

His expression is foreign—no smugness, no lazy charm, just raw fear and desperation. In that moment, beneath the weight of chaos, everything shifts. You realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re not as safe as you thought. And maybe this time, keeping it light won’t be enough to protect either of you.

He presses a hand to your side, his palm warm against the cold, slick surface of your skin. The moment he pulls back, his fingers glisten with crimson, and a curse slips through his lips, raw and panicked. “No, no, no. Not like this. Don’t you fucking dare.” The urgency in his voice is a desperate plea.

“Ridoc…” you manage, the word scraping against your throat like shattered glass. Your vision flickers at the edges.

“I’m here. I’ve got you,” he insists, urgency lacing his tone. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” His voice is a lifeline, tethering you to the moment as he tears the edge of his shirt and presses it against your wound, hands trembling slightly.

You blink in disbelief. “Are you—serious?”

He lets out a humorless laugh, a sound tinged with disbelief and desperation. “Of course I’m serious. You think I’m gonna let you bleed out just so I can find someone else to flirt with? Get over yourself.”

You almost laugh at his stubbornness. Almost. But the world begins to tilt, shadows creeping in from the corners of your sight, dulling the edges of reality.

“Stay awake,” he commands, his voice firm, as if it alone can keep you from slipping away. One hand cradles your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin in a gesture that feels impossibly tender. “I swear to Malek, if you die, I’ll—I’ll kill you myself.”

A weak breath escapes your lips, a feeble attempt at humor. “You’re an idiot.”

“That’s rich, coming from the person who thought they could solo two venin while I was distracted.” His voice rises, a mix of exasperation and fear.

“Was—holding the line.”

“Yeah? Well, next time let the line bend a little, alright? I can’t—” His voice cracks. “I can’t lose you.”

And just then the others arrive. Violet. Imogen. Sloane. A few riders whose faces blur in your vision, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm. They stop mid-step, eyes darting to Ridoc on his knees, bloodied and frantic, both hands pressed to your body as if he could somehow force life back into you.

His head snaps up, eyes blazing with a fierce determination that sets them apart from the chaos surrounding you. “Help!” He roars. “Please!”

Everyone freezes in the charged air of the battlefield, the aftermath of chaos hanging heavy like a shroud. Ridoc Gamlyn, the same guy who once faked his own death during a spar just to avoid extra drills, now stands like a tower of unwavering authority. His usual smirks and playful jests are replaced by a fierce, raw intensity. The wild panic in his eyes reflects the urgency of the moment as he barks orders with the weight of a commander leading troops into battle.

Imogen opens her mouth, a frown creasing her brow, but Violet is quicker. “Okay,” she says, her voice steady despite the turmoil, already rummaging through her pack for a bandage kit. Her movements are swift, practiced, yet her eyes betray the gravity of the situation. She exchanges a wide-eyed glance with Sloane who mumbles something under her breath about the world ending.

But Ridoc’s focus never falters. He keeps his gaze locked onto you, unwavering and fierce, as if you are the only thing that exists in this moment of turmoil. With a faint squeeze, you grasp his hand. His eyes flicker down to yours, wide with concern, as if he’s drinking in the sight of you, grounding himself in the reality of your presence.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he whispers, the words laced with a raw vulnerability that cuts through the adrenaline haze. “And I’m not easy to scare.”

A smile flickers on your lips, barely escaping. “Gonna kiss me in front of the whole squad now?”

He huffs out a sound that could almost be a laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “If you ever pull something that reckless again, I’ll do more than kiss you. I’ll chain you to the barracks wall.”

“That’s... hot,” you mumble, a playful challenge threaded through the pain.

His eyes narrow and then, he leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours—not in a kiss, nor as a grand declaration, but as a gentle touch. It’s steady, grounding, a silent promise in the storm of chaos.

As the world begins to fade into darkness around you, you surrender to the sound of his voice, whispering your name like a prayer, a plea he refuses to let go unanswered.

When you wake up, your ribs ache, each pulse echoing through your body with an unsettling insistence. Your head feels heavy, as if it’s been stuffed with cotton, muffling the world around you. You groan softly, the sound barely escaping your lips as you blink against the dim magelights of your room, their glow casting a warm, flickering hue across the stone walls.

“Hey.”

The voice is low, not quite steady, breaking the stillness that envelops the room. You turn your head, the movement slow and deliberate, and there he is—Ridoc. He’s sitting beside your bed, his legs spread wide in a casual yet protective stance, elbows braced on his knees as if he’s anchored himself to the earth beneath him. His hair’s a wild tangle, strands falling across his forehead in a way that makes him look both rugged and vulnerable.

A bloodstain, dark and dried, clings to the collar of his shirt, a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. A long cut runs along his temple, an unfinished bandage hinting at the frantic attempts to heal him amidst the turmoil. His eyes lock onto yours the moment you move, a storm of relief and tension swirling in their depths.

He breathes, the words escaping him in a rush, and he slumps forward, the weight of his body visibly lifting as if he’s been holding himself upright through sheer force of will. “You’re awake.”

You give him a dry look, the corners of your mouth twitching despite the pain. “No, I’m dead and haunting you.”

He huffed a laugh. There’s no teasing behind it, just that same rawness you saw before you passed out. It’s softened now, less panic and more exhaustion, but the intensity lingers, real and palpable.

“Your heart stopped for a minute,” he says after a beat, the confession rolling off his tongue like a heavy stone. “Just enough to make me question every decision I’ve ever made, so… thanks for that.”

You blink, processing his words. “I died?”

“You paused. Briefly.” He leans back in his chair, rubbing both hands over his face, a gesture laden with fatigue. “And I stopped breathing, so we’re even.”

You let silence fall for a moment, watching him, the weight of unspoken words thickening the air between you. “You stayed?” you ask quietly, and his gaze drops, the casual bravado slipping further away.

Ridoc lowers his hands and shrugs, but it’s hollow. “They couldn’t get me to leave. Violet tried. Then Imogen threatened me. I told her she could duel me if she wanted to drag me out.”

You smile faintly, a flicker of warmth igniting in your chest. “She didn’t?”

“She knows she’d lose.”

There it is—a flash of the usual Ridoc, the cocky one with a permanent smirk and a one-liner locked and loaded. But as quickly as it appears, it fades, swallowed by the shadows of concern that still linger in his eyes.

He leans forward again, fingers curling loosely in the blanket near your side, the fabric soft but heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. The air crackles with tension, a delicate balance of hope and fear swirling around you both.

“I didn’t realize how bad it was,” he says, his voice dipping to a gravelly whisper, as if the weight of his confession might shatter the fragile tranquility of the moment. “Until I saw your blood. Until I thought… fuck. That I wouldn’t get another one of those stupid little smirks you do when you win an argument.”

You search his face, looking for the familiar spark of mischief that usually accompanies his words, but instead, you find a storm brewing in his eyes, dark clouds of concern battling against the remnants of cocky bravado. “You weren’t supposed to care this much,” you manage, your voice barely more than a breath, laced with disbelief.

“I know,” he replies, a rough exhalation escaping him.

“We said—”

“I know.” His gaze pierces through you, holding yours with an intensity that feels both suffocating and liberating. “We were keeping it light. No strings. No risk. But somewhere between sneaking around and pretending not to look at you, I started memorizing the sound of your laugh and counting your footsteps when you came down the hall.”

Your heart flips, a dizzying sensation that morphs into an ache, reverberating through your chest with each pulse. “Ridoc…”

He shakes his head, cutting you off gently, as if the truth itself is a fragile thing that could splinter under the weight of scrutiny. “I know we didn’t say it out loud. But I need you to hear it now. I care. I care so much it makes me reckless.”

The rawness of his admission hangs in the air, thick and palpable, like the charged silence before a storm. You stare at him, grappling with the vulnerability laid bare before you. His features are chiseled by tension and illuminated by the flickering glow of the magelights, casting shadows that dance across his face, creating an ethereal quality to the moment.

He lets out a shaky exhale, a release of pent-up fear. “If you don’t want that—if it’s too much—just say so. I’ll back off. Go back to being the sarcastic asshole who barely looks your way. But if you do—if there’s any part of you that wants to stop pretending this doesn’t matter—tell me now.”

A lump forms in your throat, heavy and unyielding, as you process the gravity of his words. The walls you’ve built around yourself start to crumble, brick by brick, leaving you exposed in a way you never anticipated.

You reach out, your fingers trembling as they seek his, moving slow and deliberate, a silent question lingering in the space between you. When you finally make contact, he stills, as if even this small touch might shatter him.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” you whisper, each word a fragile thread that binds your hearts closer together. “I want this. Whatever this is.”

Ridoc doesn’t respond with words; instead, he shifts forward with a gentleness that belies the storm raging inside him. He presses a kiss to your forehead and it’s so painfully careful, so tender, it makes your eyes sting with unspent tears.

When he pulls back, his voice is thick with emotion, roughened by vulnerability. “You’re not getting rid of me now, you know.”

You smile, a genuine spark igniting in your chest. “Good. I like having you around.”

And in that moment, the barriers that once separated you begin to dissolve. He finally lets his fingers lace with yours properly, intertwining like the roots of two trees growing side by side, unyielding in the face of the storm.

This time, there’s no one to hide from. No reason to pretend. Just him. Just you. And something real, at last.

Everything Taglist: @lxnvmvrzx @bodhidurrans @bookwormysblog @nikfigueiredo

#iron flame #fourth wing #onyx storm #the empyrean #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing fanfic #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn x reader #ridoc gamlyn x y/n #ridoc gamlyn x you #ridoc gamlyn angst

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seventiesweetheart · 1 year ago

Text

𓆩♱𓆪 party monster.

dark! ex bf! rafe x pogue! fem! reader

SUMMARY. in which y/n and the infamous rafe cameron once shared a secret relationship, one that she knew the pogues would be heavily against. and so eventually, after a series of events, y/n decided to break up with him and be done with his toxic behavior once and for all. but while sneaking into some kook’s house party with the pogues, she’s caught by the one person she was hoping not to find.

WARNING. smut, dubcon, a bit of violence, implied toxic relationship, oral (reader receiving), choking, manipulative behavior, jealousy, tons of swearing

A/N. this is the first ever fic i’m posting yaaaay >< just a note that this definitely ended up being way longer than i planned, so i might write a part two tomorrow since it also still feels kind of lacking :( but hope you enjoy!

it wasn’t easy sneaking in. but with sarah’s help, they managed to slip through unnoticed. and of course, jj wasted no time diving into the kitchen where bottles of booze were scattered like treasure, hence why y/n found herself struggling to maintain control of the situation, fearing that at any moment, someone would eventually realize who they were and the fact that they completely weren’t supposed to be here.

to be honest, y/n never wanted to come here. if anything, the last place she wanted to be after her recent breakup was anywhere near the kooks. yet, as soon as john b and jj heard about the party, they couldn't resist the temptation to crash it in true pogue fashion.

as usual, y/n and ki couldn’t bear the idea of those boys getting their asses kicked again, especially after the millions of times that that happened in the past.

“jj, seriously, that’s enough. this is absolutely no place to get wasted right now. please.” she begged her best friend who was now downing his third bottle and moving along to music.

“god relax y/n, no one’s gonna figure us out, alright? just drink, dance, and we’ll be out of here as soon as possible.”

her eyes bored into him, clearly not believing a word he said, “uh huh, you say that now but—“

“c’mon! just dance with me.” before y/n could protest any more, jj had her by the hand, dragging her out of the kitchen and into the living room. the air was thick with the scent of flavored smoke and alcohol. loud trap music pounded from the speakers, the bass vibrating through the floors and walls, matching the rhythm of her racing heart.

“jesus christ…” the girl muttered, watching jj get lost in the music, his head swinging and hair flying as he danced amidst the throng of bodies.

y/n's eyes scanned around the room, her anxiety mounting with each passing second. sweat slicked her forehead as she continuously looked around the crowd for any familiar faces who might recognize them.

and then she saw him.

his pair of piercing grey-blue eyes locked onto hers, sending a jolt of fear through her body. those same eyes flicked between her and jj, and before she knew it, she felt a chill run down her spine.

rafe cameron lounged on a plush couch, arms draped over the backrest with the usual unreadable expression on his face. next to him was some girl who was bent forward towards the glass table, snorting a line of powder. she raised her head back and pinched her nose, waiting for the rush to hit.

but y/n’s focus was solely on rafe. whoever the girl was didn't matter. either way, rafe’s attention was fixed on her, and she couldn't tell if that excited or terrified her more.

snapping out of the daze, she turned to her best friend again, “jj, we gotta go. rafe’s here.” she desperately tried to tug on her friend’s arm.

“jj!” she yelled over the music and that finally caught his attention.

“what?!” he yelled back, irritation flashing across his face at the sight of her anxious expression.

“we have to go! now.”

rafe never liked jj. throughout their secret relationship, he always thought of him to be a little too loud, violent, and far too carefree. on top of that, he also thought jj was always too close to y/n for his liking.

and y/n knew this. she knew both of them well enough to understand that she needed to act quickly before things escalated and this night became another reminder of why sneaking into this party had been a terrible idea in the first place.

her hand wrapped tightly around her best friend’s wrist as she moved as quickly as she can through the crowd in order to find an exit.

but almost immediately, she felt jj's wrist slip from her grasp. her heart dropped as she pushed through a dense cluster of bodies, the press of people making it hard to move.

"fuck, jj—" she started, her voice barely audible over the pounding music.

but it wasn’t jj behind her anymore. instead, she found herself face-to-face with the same pair of ominous blue eyes she saw earlier. she barely had time to think as she shoved past more bodies.

finally breaking free from the crowd, she found herself at the foot of the stairs. without hesitation, she dashed upwards. it didn’t matter, she was going to find a window and get the hell out of here. kiara would find jj, y/n was sure of it. and pope had to be somewhere downstairs as well.

reaching the second floor, her heart raced even faster. she frantically looked left and right, searching for a room to hide in. she pushed open the first door she came to, only to recoil at the sight of two strangers making out.

“fuck, sorry,” she mumbled, cringing as she backed out and moved to the next room.

she hurried down the hall to the last room, cautiously peeking inside. finding it empty, she slipped in quickly.

but the door couldn’t close behind her.

she attempted to push it again, but it wouldn’t budge. y/n stumbled backward as the door pushed back against her efforts, her breath hitching when she realized it wasn’t any problem with the door—it was rafe on the other side.

“closing the door on me again? i’m starting to think you love doing that.” a mischievous smirk played on his lips as he slowly stepped into the room, his presence making the space more suffocating as he closed the door behind him.

the silence in the room was deafening and the growing tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. y/n definitely did not miss the sound of the lock clicking into place.

she could still hear the music blaring from downstairs, the bass vibrating through the walls and floorboards. or maybe this time it was just her own heart, pounding in her chest as she kept her eyes locked on his. every fiber of her being braced for his next move.

rafe took a step closer, his gaze never wavering from hers. the dim light cast shadows across his face, making his expression even more unreadable.

she never expected for this situation to happen again, wherein they would be both locked in a room and none of her friends were even slightly aware of the fact that they were alone together. every instinct screamed at her to run, but she stayed rooted at her spot.

“not running this time?” he inched closer, his voice a low and threatening.

“i know you won’t hurt me.” it sounded like a whisper, as y/n back slowly to the desk behind her.

rafe scoffed, “you say that but i see you still trying to escape from me.”

y/n glared at him, defiance flickering in her eyes “well, what do you expect? for me to run to you?”

his glare intensified, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he moved closer. but then, in a flash, his expression softened.

“i missed you, you know?” his tone turned manipulative, a tactic she recognized all too well from their relationship. she had fallen for it many times before, but she wasn’t going to this time. “i really did, y/n… we were so perfect together and you-you just left without giving me the chance to explain myself.”

“well, i don’t think any more could have been said after you beat the fuck out of my best friend, don’t you think?” y/n's voice grew more aggressive, her anger flaring.

“yeah well he hit me too! and what’d you do? nothing!” he yelled, and she flinched at every word, her body tensing as she tried desperately to find an escape from the suffocating situation.

his breathing grew heavier as he looked at her with pain and frustration in his eyes, “you said you loved me but-but you didn’t even come to defend me.”

“rafe… you started that fight and i-i told you if you laid a hand on any of my friends then that would be the end for us.”

“god, fuck!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. rafe's hand shot out, knocking the floor lamp until it crashed to the floor with a loud shatter, fragments of glass scattering across the hardwood.

y/n flinched, raising her arms to shield herself as she inched closer to the corner where the bed was.

“it’s always you and those fucking friends of yours.” he spat, his face contorted with rage.

and before she could even process his movements, his hand was on her throat, pulling her forcefully towards him. she gasped, feeling the pressure against her windpipe, her fingers clawing desperately at his chest in an attempt to break free.

but even in her panic, she couldn't ignore the familiar sensation of his solid chest beneath her hand.

“and now, let me guess, you’re moving on to that fucking blonde you claim to be your best friend.”

“jj really is just my best friend! p-please, rafe. let go of me.” y/n pleaded as she fought the urge to look at how close his lips were from hers instead of holding the weight of his intense gaze.

“see, that’s where you’re wrong, y/n. i’ve never let you go, and i’m not fucking letting you go now or ever.”

his lips crashed down on hers, the kiss intense and demanding, leaving her gasping for air as she struggled to keep up with his pace. his other hand found her waist, pulling her closer against his body.

“r-rafe…” the moan she tried to hide escaped freely from her lips, coming out as a breathless whisper as his lips trailed down to her neck, no doubt leaving a trail of marks.

“god, l-let me go.” y/n weakly pushed him while he backed her up towards the bed.

“you say that, but your body tells me otherwise. you’ll have to tell me what you really want, sweetheart.”

he continued to suck on her skin, marking her with dark red and purple bruises as his hands trailed down to the hem of her floral sundress. slowly, he slipped his fingers underneath the fabric until he was hooking one side of her lacy underwear.

“still haven’t answered my question, y/n. or do you seriously want me to fuck it out of you?”

his eyes locked onto hers with growing frustration and need, “just fuck me, rafe.”

finally, the mischievous smirk returned to his face, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he leaned in closer.

despite her initial reluctance, y/n lifted her hips, allowing him to easily pull her underwear down until it hung around her ankles.

her hand grew clammy as she clutched the sheets beneath her, her breath catching in her throat as she lay staring at the ceiling.

meanwhile, rafe moved his hand back up her thighs, brushing her skirt up slowly to tease her until the fabric pooled at her waist. she could feel the air around them mixing with his breath against her skin, making her exposed wetness grow colder.

“d’you let anyone get near this after you left me?” his voice came low and deadly as his fingers played at her entrance, sliding against the slick liquid between her lips.

y/n whimpered at his touch, trying to hide her face with her hand while she shook her head in response.

“use your words, princess.”

“n-no, i didn’t.” she stammered out, her breath hitching as she felt his finger plunge through her hole.

satisfaction evident in his voice as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin, “good girl.”

her eyes shut tightly as soon as she felt his lips wrap around her soft bud, tongue lapping over and over it, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body.

“w-wait, rafe! slow down!” she groaned, her hands moving to tightly clutching his hair, her body trembling with the overwhelming sensation.

but rafe didn’t slow down, his hands holding her legs firmly in place before they tried to snap shut and he continued running his tongue over her clit, his warm saliva mixing with her wetness, making his actions even sloppier and faster.

“sh-shit, i’m close—rafe, please.” she begged, her voice thick with desperation. her hips moved involuntarily, seeking more friction and intensity, driving her to buck her hips against his face, urging him to keep going.

her fingers pulled his hair as she arched her back, and rafe buried his face deeper between her legs, his hands gently and possessively molding her thighs like they were lovers. like they never broke up and she had always belonged to him all this time.

“come for me, princess. c’mon.” he voiced breathlessly, the tip of his tongue tracing maddening circles around her bud, pushing her closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

it was all too overwhelming for y/n. she felt her orgasm building up, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to engulf her completely.

“fuck, rafe!” she moaned, her entire body tensing as her release crashed over her in waves, leaving her breathless and shaking.

rafe wasted no time in savoring all her juices, his lips and tongue eagerly lapping up every drop as they poured onto the sheets of some stranger's bed.

with gentle kisses kisses trailing along her inner thighs, he moved up to face her, delicately wiping the sweat off her forehead and gently brushing her hair out of her face.

still recovering from the intensity of her climax, y/n struggled to catch her breath as she locked eyes with him. the full weight of her actions had yet to sink in but she pushed the thought aside for later as his lips came down again to meet hers, softly grazing the bottom with a gentle nip.

“finally remember who you belong to, sweetheart?”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks fic #toxic rafe cameron #tw dubcon #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagines #yandere rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron obx #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #dark rafe cameron x reader #smut fic #obx #obx fic #outer banks x reader

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takamimami · 7 months ago

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Omg omg, could I request “Your hand feels so much better than mine.” For Benn Beckman please? I just need more smut of him 🥺💜 thank you so much!! ✨😊

Hello, lovely. Firstly, I want to apologize for how LONG it took me to get to this request and thank you for your patience :3 I said this in a previous request too, but I didn't want to just force myself to write something I wouldn't be proud of, so I needed to wait to find some inspiration for this (on top of being heavily distracted by my other vices lately >.>)

Anyway, this is the first ever piece I've written for Benn, so I hope I did him justice for you!! <3

Benn Beckman x F!Reader - NSFW - “Your hand feels so much better than mine.” STORY UNDER THE CUT - MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 🔞 CW: SMUT; exhibitionism/public sex, sexual tension, benn's got a filthy mouth, fingering, benn calls you 'doll' and 'good girl' :3, shanks is a menace, why does the red force have trees on deck???, kinda cool but still ---word count 1.7k

Perched underneath one of the trees at the stern of the ship, you flipped through the pages of the newspaper you’d snagged from the vendor on the port town your crew had just left – noting the headline on the innermost page.

‘Rockstar “Soul King” Joins Straw Hat Pirates – Claims Straw Hat Luffy Lives!’

You often found yourself in this same spot when you struggled to fall asleep, your brain running rampant and unrelenting to the exhaustion your body felt.

“They’ll make anything a headline, these days,” a deep voice echoes over your shoulder, and you fight your initial reaction and do your best to appear unfazed at the frame that stops in front of you.

Tonight had been the closest you’d come to giving into the game you and your vice-captain had been playing for weeks now. You knew he was giving you your space to sort through your feelings, but the sexual tension between the two of you only grew more intense the longer you tried to ignore it.

You drop the newspaper down far enough to look up at the tall man, just in time to watch him lift his cigarette to his lips and pull a long drag from it. He lets the smoke flow slowly from his nostrils as he stares down at you, brow cocked as you hold his stare intently.

“Soul King's not your style, Becks?” You muse, watching the smirk that curls up on his lips when you finally speak to him.

“Didn’t say that,” he retorts, and you fold the newspaper in half to offer him your full attention. “I just think anyone who thought Straw Hat was dead could use a few extra brain cells.”

You chuckle and stand from the spot you were leaning against the tree, shifting awkwardly as Benn takes a step toward you.

“So, doll,” he drawls, “What’s got you awake this late?”

The knowing smirk on his lips has a blush heating up your cheeks, mind racing back to the booth you two had been cozied up in at the tavern just last night.

“Just... not tired,” you answer, keeping your words short in case your voice betrays you as you try to feign nonchalance. “You?”

“Same,” he says flatly, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the dirt and stamping it out with his boot. “Can’t seem to stop thinking about this pretty little thing I was... chatting with tonight. She ran off on me and left me all by my lonesome.”

Your blush only intensifies as he takes another step closer to you, chin dropping so he can crane over your smaller frame.

“Starting to think she might be scared of me, or that she’s got someone else warming her bed.”

You keep your eyes on his lips as he speaks, his voice dropping an octave and sending a surge of desire straight to your core. When he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip your eyes flick up to meet his, feeling his breath tickle your neck as he leans in closer.

“I doubt it's either of those things,” you manage to form the words despite the tension threatening to consume both of you. “Maybe she just didn’t think you'd feel the same way about her.”

Benn quirks his brow and you smirk as he offers one of his own, your shoulders relaxing slightly as he snakes a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he muses, lips just an inch from yours as he speaks, “If she would have opened her eyes a little wider, she might have been able to see just how much I feel for her.” He growls out the last of his sentence and the sound snaps a cord in your mind, your brain unable to control your body as it presses further into him.

You connect your lips to his and he welcomes the kiss, letting you feel some semblance of control over the situation as you nip and bite at his lips. When he parts them for you, your tongue presses into his mouth fervently, tangling with his own as he grips your hips and guides you back toward the tree you had been leaning against previously.

Once your back presses against the wood, you feel Benn’s rough hands slide down and grab at the back of your knees, lifting you up towards his chest and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You feel him growing hard under the pressure of your core against his, and you hiss into his mouth when he ruts his hips against you roughly, the movement full of need and desire as he takes command of the kiss. He pulls his lips from your mouth to pepper wet kisses along your jaw, slowly moving lower as he alternates between open-mouth kisses and gentle nips at your skin.

A sound from the bow of the ship reminds you where you are, and how exposed the two of you are as you whip your head around, scanning the area for anyone who might be watching.

“Everyone’s asleep, doll,” he groans against your neck, hips moving again between your legs and causing you to whimper under his touch. “No one’ll see.”

His words do little to reassure you, so in order to pull your attention back to him, Benn reaches up and tugs at the hem of your top, pulling it down far enough to expose one of your breasts to him before dipping his head down and taking a nipple between his teeth teasingly.

“Don’t know if I can wait any longer,” he growls, and again your mind melts as he sucks down on the sensitive bud in his mouth, his hand shifting to fumble with the button of your pants as you fist his grey hair. “I shouldn’t admit this, but... I came by your room earlier. Heard all those pretty sounds you were making.”

Your eyes go wide at his admission, face flushing deeply as he tugs your pants down your legs.

“Didn’t want to interrupt in case you weren’t alone, but now that I know that wasn’t the case... I gotta know,” his voice hitches as he traces the lace of your underwear, feeling the dampness of them as he strokes over your clothed cunt.

“Were you thinking of me when you touched yourself, doll? Did you imagine they were my hands?”

A nod is all you can manage as he tugs your underwear to the side, and a moan slips from your lips as he runs his fingers through your wet folds.

“Good,” he croons, his face dipping down so that his mouth grazes your earlobe. “’Cause I’ve thought about having your tight cunt wrapped around my cock for ages. Thought about how good those pretty little hands would feel stroking me.”

A sudden stretch has your eyes screwing shut and your head pressing back against the tree, his thick fingers curling against your walls as he presses two of them deep inside you. You bite your lip to keep quiet, but your moans still manage to slip through as Benn lifts his eyes from your soaking cunt.

“That feel good, doll?”

You nod and Benn presses his forehead against yours, commanding your attention as he continues his ministrations.

“Huh-uh. Use your words.”

You whimper at the command in his tone, eyes opening to look into his as he awaits your response.

“Y-yes, Becks,” you whine, your eyes dropping to where he is touching you as another moan escapes you. “Your hands feel so much better than mine.”

Benn’s eyes twitch and you grip his shoulders as he shifts to pull his erection from his pants, your eyes widening at the considerable size of him.

“Hmm, I bet this will feel even better than, doll,” he growls as he pulls his fingers from you, using the same hand to stroke himself and lubricate his shaft with your arousal.

After a few tantalizingly long moments he shifts you higher into his grasp, lining himself up at your entrance and pressing into you slowly as you feel all the air leave your lungs.

“Fuuuuuck,” he hisses, and you dig your nails into his shoulders as he presses into your fully, giving you a moment to adjust to the stretch of him.

When he starts moving again your mouth falls open, the drag of his cock along your walls pulling obscene sounds from you and your cunt as he quickens his pace. Your whole body hitches from the power of his thrusts, your back scraping against the bark of the tree with each movement.

“You like that, doll?” He growls into your neck, sinking his teeth into your neck gently as he tries to muffle the sounds of his own moans. “You gonna sing me a pretty song while you come on my cock?”

You manage to gasp out a feeble “Yes” as Benn brings his calloused finger to your clit, thumbing gentle circles around it as you feel yourself tighten around him. Unable to contain it any longer, you let your mouth fall open as his name falls from your lips, the pitch in your voice signaling your end as your body begins to shake with pleasure.

“Good girl,” he croons in your ear, keeping his thrusts precise and sharp as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Your voice breaks as your mouth goes dry, your labored breathing causing your chest to rise and fall against Benn's as his hips slowly come to a halt. He holds you close, letting his cloak fall over your exposed body.

“D-did you...”

“Good Gods, Beck!” You hear a familiar voice call out from the nearby staircase. “When I said ‘by any means necessary’, this is NOT what I had in mind.”

Your body goes still as you feel all the color drain from your face, blood running cold as you realize that it is the voice of your captain.

Benn, seemingly unfazed, simply holds you closer to him as he flips Shanks a middle finger, and much to your relief the sounds of laughing and footsteps grow further away as he pulls your pants back up your legs for you.

“Don’t worry, doll,” he smirks mischievously, tugging you into his arms again and carrying you toward his quarters. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

✨come say hai :3✨

#benn beckman #benn beckman smut #benn beckman x you #benn beckman x reader #one piece #x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #red haired pirates #cw: smut #cw: exhibitionism #cw: dirty talk #limitlesswrites #limitlessrequests

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toruforuu · 4 months ago

Text

gojo satoru x reader || hogwarts au (18+)

wonderwall chp.5 incandescent glow

✼pairing:hogwarts au - slytherin!gojo x ravenclaw!reader

✼summary: gojo satoru, the golden boy of a famous family lineage of wizards sets his sights on you, a half blood defying his pureblood morals. he makes it a goal in his life to make yours a living hell. years of endless pestering, teasing and rivalry stretching out. as times goes on, he finds himself thinking about you more than he isn’t. he grows torn between his family’s beliefs and the forbidden ache tickling his chest whenever he sees you

✼meaning: wonderwall - the person you cannot stop thinking about (song by oasis)

✼genre/tags: hogwarts au, female reader, strangers to enemies/sort of academic rivals to forbidden lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut, pining and yearning (mostly gojo), built up tension, teasing, bickering and pestering, jealousy, slightly spoiled gojo, obsessed and lovesick gojo, both are pretty oblivious to their feelings

✼warnings: discrimination, death, grief, shitty parents, light bullying, mentions of hook ups, sexual topics, family pressure and trauma, mentions of injuries and violence, degradation, mentions of political views, escalating political situation, lgbtq representation, cheating

✼word count: 8.9k

✼chapter: 5/?

a/n: hello lovelies! I always wondered how these writes pull up with long ass chapters and I guess I get it now lmao. I also decided to include my favourite greek mythology legend of the star crossed lovers. the constellation is gonna play a little cute role later! anyway, i am taking another entrance exam this saturday and my graduation process is starting soon as well and i am not too sure when another chapter is gonna come out. hopefully soon, but my psychology and education topics for viva are sure giving me a hard time:<

based on this // previous chapter // next chapter

˚⟡˖ ࣪:link to the playlist

˚⟡˖ ࣪:link to the vision-board

Present, summer of 07’

The ripe age of adulthood felt bittersweet as you stood on a hill, one close to where Arabella lives in the countryside. You couldn’t help but recall those sweltering days in the countryside spent beneath the trees near her house or running up this very hill till your lungs might’ve given out. This nostalgia you’re feeling is a mere proof you are living a life to be proud of, what a privilege it is to yearn for your own memories. But now you’re both grown, almost old enough to use magic outside of the school walls and it’s almost melancholic. Couple of months and the power to wield magic would be yours.

It’s the start of July, only couple of days ago you were at Hogwarts, listening to the speech given by the headmaster. Nothing changed since then, only that you had managed to calm down your racing mind, which was filled with anxious whereabouts about the near future. Arabella stands at your side, a hat sitting on her head to shield her from the heat, strawberry blonde curls tucked away beneath it. The scent of sunscreen lingering in the air. You were anxiously picking at the cuticles around your fingers as you mindlessly waited for the arrival of the misfits along with their port-key. While the heat wave suffocates you and sweat builds up at the back of your neck.

Portkeys are magical objects that allow travel across extreme distances or to places that have been charmed against detection from entering or leaving. Portkeys may send unsuspecting people anywhere, and so they require Ministry authorisation to use and operate. Port-keys are usually disguised as ordinary rubbish so muggles are more likely to ignore them. They are set to activate either at a prearranged time, or as soon as the person comes in contact with it.

“Are you bloody sure this a good idea?” you protest impatiently with arms resting across your chest as bees buzz in the air, blades of grass itching the bare side of your lower thigh. You certainly weren’t keen on the idea of trusting such an important part of your weekend to the hands of the Slytherins who hate your guts since the start of your first year. The white haired disaster to blame for that.

“Do you want to see the semifinals or not?” Arabella huffs a bit grumpily due to the overwhelming intensity of the weather as she toys around with the adjustable strings of her backpack, which is hanging over her shoulders. Cool breeze hits your frames for a small fraction of a second, bringing relief.

“We could have used apparition,” you shrug your shoulder with the intention of blaming your friend for this obscene situation you found yourself to be in. Because your friend refused to use apparition regardless of the fact you had for license for it handful of months now (she was right though, it was dangerous to use it for such a distance). Given the fact it’s your dream to go to the World Cup, not even crossing paths with the boy who made your life a living hell and depending on him would stop you from going.

The Quidditch World Cup is held every four years since the 15th century. The competition has Quidditch teams representing themselves and their countries sprawled all around the world, fighting for the World Cup and the title of champions. It is simultaneously the most exhilarating sporting event and a logistical nightmare for the host nation, which happens to be your country after nearly fifty years of waiting. When it was announced, you begged all of your friends to attend with you. Sadly, the twins couldn’t afford such a luxury. You understood, the ticket was pricey. Whole 40 Galleons at its cheapest. You yourself had to save for months, skipping on your usual purchases. For your sake, Arabella promised to join you, leaving her to do such drastic changes in her shopping as well. However at the end of the day, it wasn’t only you she went for. Her girlfriend agreed to go along with her older brother who happens to be a part of the untouchables.

The poor girl is connected to both your ex boyfriend and the Slytherins, you thought.

“We’ll transport together and go our separate ways, it’s not a big deal,” she presses further, hoping you would drop the subject and take it as it will come. However, you’re not feeling like letting it to fizzle on its own.

“I don’t trust Gojo. He might as well leave us there,” at the sound of your scoff, Arabella tilts her body towards yours.

“But Margaret wouldn’t,” she lets the words out gently and it instantly fills you with guilt, causing your features to soften up. You were so preoccupied with the fact it’s Gojo out of all people, you didn’t realise Arabella’s girlfriend was going to make a difference. Their relationship was complicated and pointing out your worries didn’t do your friend any good.

Margaret came out of a pureblood household, her older brother mentioned earlier was sorted into Slytherin and is part of the group which includes the blue eyed menace. While she is a year younger than you and surprisingly got sorted into Gryffindor. One of a few in her lineage. Her views are not filled with poison and she is open, therefore, a romance could spark between her and the short strawberry blonde Ravenclaw. Though it has to be held a secret, disguised as mere friendship. The outlook of it was already bad if a pureblood of her rank befriended a muggle born witch (especially in the upcoming times). What would it be like if the truth bubbled up to the surface? Her family would perhaps forbid it, or worse. But you’re certain they wouldn’t let it slide.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you try apologising for doubting the intentions of her lover.

You couldn’t continue the interaction any further as a swirl of wind hurled into the space on top of the hill where you stood, bringing four figures along. The first voice you mapped out was the girlish voice of Margaret, her frame running into a prison formed by Arabella’s arms. She hugged her a little tighter. Something that goes unnoticed by those who don’t know, but not by you. You turned your gaze away from the two of them, the blinding sun making you narrow your eyes in order to catch a glimpse of the others. It’s the first time throughout the years you’re seeing Satoru Gojo outside of your shared school, more importantly in summer — the essence of your free time. The casualness scares you. And as you blink away the sun, the outlines of figures inch closer. When you can make out the their existence, you nod your head as a form of greeting rather than using your words, the three Slytherins chose to replicate the action. All of them draped with backpacks, hats and sweat. Margaret then walks over to you, hugging you in a similar way.

Seeing her reminds you of him, your ex boyfriend.

“I’ll crash in your tent, you won’t mind, Y/N, will you?” her sweet voice rings in your ears as she speaks while her hands cage you in a welcoming hug. You assumed she would since her brother and his company is overpoweringly manly, so you weren’t against it. As a matter of fact, you brought a bigger tent which would serve you over the weekend.

“You’re all good,” your hand pats her back in a comforting manner before you pull away.

She shoots you a grateful smile and proceeds to engage in conversation with Arabella, leaving you to listen to them from the sidelines. It doesn’t bother though, you know if it weren’t for this opportunity they wouldn’t see each other during the break as it was that way last summer. They wrote letters to one another, but writing is far from the magic of meeting in person. Your attention occasionally glides over to the intruders, who stand couple of feet away and watch you while they wait for the three of you to finish talking.

“Taking muggles, are we?” one of Gojo’s friends groans out and your ears perk up at the words, your blood pressure instantly rises. Sadly, all you three managed to make out the words. To Arabella it meant nothing. Sure, it still hurt, yet she was somehow used to the insults and willing to let it go. But you aren’t that open minded.

“Hey! I heard that,” you huff out for the sake of your friend and Arabella grabs your hand in the process and steps in front of you to prevent you from doing anything stupid. Your eyes fall onto the grip she has on your wrist . Then they bore into her orbs, which are filled up with pleading.

“I told you to behave, Robin,” another boy from the Slytherin house slides into the conversation and from his words you could already depict it was he, who was the older brother of your best friend’s girlfriend.

“Yeah, your dumb sister,” the initial guy whispers as he turns around to face the other way, utterly ignoring you and your attempt at putting him into his place. The blue eyed wizard next to him chuckles and without any further due begins to stroll towards you, the sight of you almost lyrical.

“Woah, couldn’t have been better,” you utter under your own breath with an eye-roll. Arabella squeezes your wrist before she lets it go, signalling and begging one more to remain calm. And when she steps out of your way, you’re once again facing the one and only, Gojo Satoru.

“Fuming, already?” he piques with his brows arching in playful curiosity, his other two friends closing up the distance as well. The burning sun, humid air and now this, was a dangerous combination for the sake of holding your temper back.

Yes, you were already fuming.

“You better keep your pretentious friends in check, Gojo,” your voice drops a tone so the words wouldn’t reach the said friends while burning a hole through the white haired prodigy with your sharp gaze. Unlike them, you are cautious about your intentions.

“Ah, you wound me,” he places his palm over his chest, long fingers sprawling across it as he pouts his lips in addition. To get even bigger rise out of you. Which he succeeds in, but you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of voicing it out loud.

“I mean it,” you said, firm and steady. No extra edge in the sound of your tone.

“Let’s gather into a circle and get this over with,” Satoru’s voice calls out a moment later, ending the conversation laced with your snarky banter. His two friends perk up at his words, finally closing up the distance fully.

Satoru pulls out the port-key, instructing you and Arabella on what to do. Or rather what to not do. You both silently listen. He then carefully places the port-key into the grass, crouching down to place a hand over it. His friends crouch down as well, gripping each other’s hands and reaching for their white haired friend. Arabella and Margaret falter down too, hands already intertwined and Margaret grabs her older brother. After that, it only comes down to you.

“You need to hold my hand for it work,” he holds out his hand to you from where he’s crouching and you hesitate. He waits for you to take it. They all wait for you to take it. All five pairs of eyes, however, only one boring into your soul with its depth.

“I don’t bite, come on,” you open your mouth to protest, but decide to close it. You huff out a low sound before you grab Arabella’s hand, squatting down in between her and the Slytherin’s menace. Then you finally take his hand in yours. The contact simple, yet soft. His skin smooth and untainted, a true hand of someone of his rank. He grips your smaller hand loosely, ensuring the teleportation goes without a hitch. The brush of his fingers leaves its mark.

In a blink of a crinkling eye you’re pulled into the port-key, the sensation of being teleported leaving your stomach in knots. The next moment you open your eyes you’re met with a vast quidditch field towering in the distance, busy chatter enveloping you. You watch in awe as other wizards brush past you, the atmosphere of the tournament fulfilling each fantasy you ever had about the World Cup and it hasn’t even started properly. As you scan your surrounding, you realise one small detail. Your hand is still lazily coaxed in his, which makes you instantly retrieve it to your side without sparing the boy any glance.

“Margaret, find some place near us, mkay’? Mom would kill me if anything were to happen to you,” the older brother of Arabella’s girlfriend says as we pick yourselves up from the ground, soothing out dust from your clothes.

“Yeah, I’ll stop by, don’t worry,” she answers with a simple nod of her head, urging her brother to finally take his leave. It was clear to you she couldn’t wait to be alone with her girlfriend. Her brother scanned all three of you without a word, turning on his heel and walking to the opposite direction. Robin, the guy who badmouthed Arabella, and Satoru following his lead.

You haven’t bothered to fetch a place for the tent. No, the three of you figured exploring the area and mostly the food stands would benefit you more. You checked out the menus of the street food businesses and the girls shyly admitted to not knowing the history of the tournament. So you started on with your rambling, explaining the truth behind the scenes as best as you could.

To be qualified for the world cup meant a lot of work. Each team played all of the other teams in their group over a two year period. During the group phase, there was always a timer of four hours on every game to avoid exhaustion of the players. On the occasion that the game ended after four hours of play and the Golden Snitch wasn't caught, the result was decided by the amount of goals scored. A win earned two points. In addition to these two points, a win by 150 points earned five points, by 100 points an extra three points and by 50 points an extra one point. If two teams were level on points, they were separated by whichever team captured the Snitch most often, or most quickly during their matches. The sixteen teams who finished top of the sixteen groups qualified for the World Cup. Throughout the tournament a team who won the most points played the team who earned the least, the team who earned the second most played the team who earned the second least, and so on. This theoretically allowed the two best teams from the qualifying phase to meet in the final. Making it all more exciting to watch. And you were clever enough to wait and pick tickets for the later games, tonight’s being the semifinal. Truthfully, Arabella and Margaret got lost somewhere in the bylines of your explaining, however, they remained focused.

You munched on chips dipped in ketchup while passing all sorts of shops, the backpacks heaving down onto your shoulders. You had to put your hair up by a clip, the heat stronger as it already hit past noon, which meant the sun was at its highest point. Due to that you all agreed finding a place to put up the tent and resting for a bit would be a wiser decision than to wander around.

The tent was easy to put together, one simple verbal spell and the job was done in a flash. You placed it few rows away from the Slytherins. Close enough for Margaret to be near her brother, far enough to ensure you a peace of mind. The tent looked tiny, but as you brushed past the flaps of entrance a humongous room spilled in front of you. Arabella voiced out her excitement through a little giggle, she then proceeded to share the fact she never even knew such tents existed. Clearly glad they did. Margaret was smiling from ear to ear as her girlfriend went on explaining how she missed out on so many things and how she can’t believe she lived without them. You both find it incredibly cute.

Originally, you were supposed to be seated at the highest lane in the very back in the stadium. However, your company ensured you better views and brought you to the VIP section. Mostly due to the charms of Margaret, who was quick to convince her brother to take both Arabella and you along, regardless of protests. From both you and the other Slytherin boys.

It was already past midnight when the mach ended and each step towards the tent felt like a knife to your worn out body.

“I feel bad for even asking, but could you maybe, go out for a bit? Margaret and I need to have a little chat. About us and well, to see if she’s embarrassed of being seen with me,” Arabella rubs the back of her neck nervously as she speaks, shy to maintain eye contact as you both stand in front of the entrance to the tent.

It was true Margaret acted a tad weirder than usual during the match.

“I was planning on taking a stroll around anyway,” you decide to ease her down with a small innocent lie. You are actually mad exhausted from the sprinkling heat and walking all day, nonetheless, you remain understanding of the situation and want to grant your friend a sense of privacy. She repeats the words “thank you” tons of times like a holy prayer, caressing your shoulder to show her gratitude.

“Arabella?” the sound of her name makes her head turn and stop her mid entering the tent.

“Yeah?” she whispers faintly as she looks over her shoulder.

“She would be a fool to be embarrassed by having someone like you,” the silky sound of your voice urges a twinkle of smile to form against her lips. She mouths one last “thank you” before she disappears into the tent. The sudden absence of her presence leaving you in the haze of a warm July night. Crickets crinkle in the background and you let out a heavy breath, wondering whatever to do.

After a small pause, your steps head somewhere in between the rows which separate the tents. You drag the walk out, slowly pacing back and forth through the made up streets of tents. The world is curled up in a blanket of stillness, the air still heavy and thick from the sunny day. You have no clue of what time it was, the passage unclear so you aren’t sure when to return. So you continue to wander, feet aching even in your most comfortable pair of shoes. Most of the stands around the place closed up already, some of them having yet to do so as the owners pack their stuff for the night.

You take one more lap around the area and then head back, unsure whenever they have finished talking, yet too tired to keep strolling around. When you reach your tent you place an ear against the fabric. Muffled voices of the two girls could be still heard as you stood at the entrance again. You don’t want to interrupt them so you sit down onto the damp grass. The stables tickle your legs as you hunch down your back out of soreness, head thrown back to look over the night sky. Leaving you to wonder if the stars look back down on you.

A sound of footsteps pulls you out of your trance, head twitching to the left. A figure walks down your way. A familiar one.

“Got kicked out?” he says when he approaches, you don’t bother to avert your gaze as you had already seen him coming from the corner of your eye. Even when he was meters away. You ponder whenever to answer. More like what to answer, your short-circulated brain unable to make up an act, which wouldn’t blow their cover.

“Look, I am not blind. I noticed,” it made you stop dead in any movement as he plainly hinted at the ongoing relationship between Arabella and the younger sister of his companion. Fear swallowed you.

You don’t answer.

“Can I sit?” the white haired wizard breathes out at last, close to being frustrated at your lack of responsiveness.

“Don’t have a choice, do I?” a snicker escapes your mouth, not attacking nor inviting him.

“Nope,” the p rolls on his tongue before he chuckles and takes a seat next to you on the ground, leaving fair amount of space between you.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he once more hints at their relationship and you don’t answer this time either.

“A constellation. Which one is that, do you know? I don’t think I’ve seen it before,” he asks as he points his finger towards the night sky, eager to make you speak. Your eyes travel in the direction of his fingers, meanwhile curiosity overflows his senses and you easily pick up on the untainted emotion. He’s different to what he normally sounds like.

“It’s called Lyra, and it can only be seen now, around midnight at the start of summer,” you share the information on the collection of stars. The one you are the most fond of ever since the professor introduced it in the advanced lessons of astronomy. Beatrice and you were thriving off the story the moment you came to acknowledge it.

To be fair, you don’t know why you are sharing it.

Out of feeling bad, you guess.

“Lyra? It sounds vaguely familiar,” the young man replies with fascination. His eyes edge the sky, not looking away still as if utterly mesmerised by the sight. Your gaze lingers too, though not on the stars. The side of his face shines, his porcelain skin reflecting the moonlight.

“It’s connected to the greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice,” the sound of your voice brings his gaze back down to you and you manage to avert yours just in time for him to miss it. And if he didn’t miss it, he decided to go on without giving you a hard time about it. His eyes swirling with intrigue.

“Do tell,” two simple yet powerful words.

“Apollo, the greek God of sun, granted Orpheus a lyre which tunes were so beautiful no enemies nor beasts could resist, and taught him how to play. Later on, he fell in love with a woman named Eurydice and married her. She was a woman of grace and beauty. However, their marriage was prophesied to not last by the Gods. Soon after the prophecy was spoken, Eurydice died. Some stories tell she was bitten by a snake, some that she drowned. It’s unclear,” you flickered your eyes away from him before your lips opened to spill the words pinching your tongue. You chose to stay focused on the story rather than on the warmth building within your body as the white haired wizard truly seemed to be paying attention.

“I’m listening,” his voice is low, head nodding as he wishes for you to continue. This was also most possibly the longest time you two spoke without being at each other’s throats and he wonders what else lies in that thick skull of yours. What else he has no idea of.

“Orpheus portrayed his grief with the tunes of his lyre. The strength of it so strong it moved things in the world. Both humans and Gods learnt about his sorrows. At some point, Orpheus descended towards Hades — the God of the underworld. The God was moved to compassion by the lyre and told the musician he could return to the living world with his wife, under one condition: she would have to follow behind him while walking out from the caves of the underworld, and he could not turn to look at her as they walked. He thought it to be an easy task since he was a man of patience. He thanked Hades with delight and left to ascend back into the living world. Unable to hear Eurydice's footsteps, however, he began to fear the Gods had fooled him. Only a few feet away from the exit, Orpheus couldn’t resist and turned to see his beloved Eurydice behind him. The act immediately sending her back to be trapped in Hades's reign forever,” the sound of your voice dies down, the story picking up its end.

“So he turned around because he had loved her so much he couldn’t resist?” Satoru declares unsurely while you almost cannot hide your shock at how easily he assumes the reason behind the act, most would remain unaware or uninterested.

“Yes. They are star crossed lovers, doomed from the start. Hades himself would have failed the test, you simply cannot cheat death,” the edge of your tone gathers passion as you speak about what ignites a spark within you.

“He killed himself to be reunited with her in the underworld after. The constellation formed, because a God casted his lyre into the sky,” you go on, telling him how the heroic musician’s fate faded into a sloppy calamity at last.

“How tragic,” the dazzling boy mumbles underneath his nose and he smiles a little then at the thought of the story, a smile unlike any other he had given you. Disposed of any irony. The sight nearly illicit to drink in. It made you rethink everything, perhaps he wasn’t as bad as he painted himself to be. Just maybe. And you were willing to let the small acknowledged slip if it contained the small meaningless word maybe.

“I must say I wasn’t a fan of summer till recently, but the story is nice,” he announces as he leans his hand into his palm, elbow resting against his thighs. The sound of his delicate breathing hear-able in the dead of the night.

“What made you change your mind?” the question slips into the space out of politeness.

“Nothing in particular,” you look at him, only to find him already looking at you. A memory of seeing you last summer springs his mind. This moment serving as a mirror to it. Panic sweeps over you, making your gaze flicker away.

“Do you?” he questions in addition to your small talk.

“Yeah, of course. Not my favourite, but sure,” you answer nonchalantly while a wave of something unknown washes over you and then you bring your knees to your chest. Hugging them with your arms. Head falling down onto them.

“I heard your father has gotten seriously ill, by the way. I am sorry about that,” his words make you irk. It’s as if the sentence buries the unusual emotions you had just caught a glimpse of back beneath the surface. Into the unexplored depths.

Your parents returned from overseas in January, spending something over a month there. The treatment they used worked like a miracle, feeding your father with doses of life and you were over the moon to find out the life threatening sickness was retrieving. Only for it fall like a house of cards. It started out with symptoms showing up again, the same ones he firstly proceeded to ignore before he was diagnosed. It’s getting bad and they’re already scheduling another process of treatment. And most people knew. Of corse they did. Your mother had to make it public in order for her to keep her job, without it she wouldn’t be able to fly over to another continent. Without reasonable camouflage she would lose her spot at the ministry.

“Are you truly?” you scoff in disbelief, shaking your head lightly as you look down on the ground. Bitterness spikes your system, you bite down the urge to burst into your tent. To hide from him and the world.

“Yes, I am not a monster,” his voice declares, layered with customary coldness.

“But you do agree with your family’s views, don’t you?” you laugh out quietly and sarcastically, gathering yourself to stand up from where you’ve been sitting till now.

He quiets down, piercing eyes looking up at you from the low angle. And for a split moment it seems he is hesitant about his answer, eyes flashing with a flee of — and it’s gone. Like he flipped a switch.

It amuses you in all the wrong ways.

“I do,” he states sharply and gets up on his feet as well, towering above you with face set neutrally as if to corner you. You wouldn’t let him. What were you thinking he might be different? He is the pretentious douchebag you had him for. The one who’s been fed nonsense before he could even walk. It was certain, he would surely take after his parents, there was no need to question him. Yet that flicker of something in his-

No.

“Then don’t pity me,” you empathise the word pity as you bravely stare back at him, the peaceful fondness of the conversation forgotten and left in past of the moment.

“I wasn’t. Isn’t it polite to give condolences?” you can’t stand how clever he makes himself sound, rubbing it smugly in your face like salt into a wound. He cunningly ticks his head. Witty charm reappearing.

“Not when you don’t mean them,” you mumble with a shaken voice, the crack in your words would be evident to anyone. He opens his mouth to respond, his shallow ego faltering, but he is not given the chance to speak back.

“Goodnight,”

And with that you brush past him to enter your tent, zipping it up. Thankfully, by the time you do enter, Arabella has finished talking with her secret lover. Margaret had actually fell asleep in her lap during the time spent sitting outside. Her head is cradled into Arabella’s lap, which causes you to grow cautious with your steps, tiptoeing quietly towards your bed after changing into a comfortable set of pyjamas. Your friend who is on the verge of falling asleep herself asks you what went on outside. She heard the conversation between you and the Slytherin distinctively. But you truly don’t feel like talking. So instead of that you wish her a good night of sleep as well, promising to share what’s happened tomorrow morning.

Despite your past exhaustion, falling asleep takes time as your thoughts spiral somewhere you would prefer to avoid.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ✼

The sun lowered itself down past the horizon, soft pastel spurts of orange, yellow and pink enchanting the sky. Sky clear of clouds, casting a ray of last bits of sunshine before the star would bid its goodbyes. Leaving for the night to take over. The match of the day was already over, not lasting the same amount of time as the night before since one of teams caught a Snitch. You’re leaving tomorrow morning, but it didn’t bother you, the time was well spent anyway.

And now you are lined up in a queue for pretzels, taking one for the team and ordering for everyone. Including the Slytherin boys. Your way of saying thank you for bringing you along with them to the VIP section.

You locate the larger ground chatting in front of the boys tent an eternity later (or at least if felt like an eternity standing in the queue) and give each one of them their pretzel, praying you mesmerised their orders right. They handed you money in return for the food and thanked you.

“Try mine!” you squal out laughing and hand Arabella your pretzel dipped in cheddar cheese. She takes it to take a bite and right away groans in pleasure at the taste. Approving your choice.

“Your sister sure knows how to pick friends,” Robin mumbles to his peers bitterly, the sight of you three happily together not resonating right with him. He hated seeing his friend’s sister tagging along with a muggle and a half blood who is so open.

Though he isn’t met with a reply, because Satoru is busy recalling the events of last night where he unsurprisingly once again caused harm with his actions. He meant to give you his sympathies, show empathy, however it came out wrong. His sights are resting on you and the way your head throws back in laughter. The sunrise throws a hue of colours against your cheeks. Making you glow.

And Margaret’s brother is too focused on enjoying his pretzel.

“I’ll be right back,” Satoru announces to his two friends whose sights are sewn into you three.

They hum. He’s gone. Lost in the crowd.

You finish your pretzels and throw the remains into the bin. All three of you then decide to take a walk through the stands once more time, just like yesterday. To look at trinkets and gifts you could bring home. Jackets of the teams, pins, broaches, hats, photographs. It’s all there. You purchase pins of your father’s and yours favourite team.

The world somewhere in between night and day.

And as you pay, the clouds start to form on the ivory sky. One moment it was clear and another it began to darken. You furrow your brows as the situation only escalates. The stratosphere dipping into darkness, when it was still alluring seconds ago.

The constellation of Lyra peaking from above one last time before it’s consumed by the hurling clouds.

“Margaret, go pick your things up. You two as well. We’re leaving,” Margaret’s brother orders you around and neither of you dares to have any objections. Well, there’s no time really as Margaret is already dragging you away.

Millions of questions pop in your head.

The three of you walk up to your tent, steps hurried and impatient and suddenly — a scream pierces through the air and the world goes temporarily quiet.

The silence bursts into pure horror and hysteria. People begin to yell over one another. Push past each other to get to safety and you wonder why, why, why. Why is this happening?

Do the Slytherins know?

Did they know it was gonna happen?

Another scream cracks into the open and you take notice of remains of a spell flying around in the distance.

“Do you need help?” Arabella panics as her and Margaret secure their backpacks onto their bags, bringing yours out of the tent as well.

“No, let’s go,” you urge them before you speak the bounded spell, the tent slouching down into a squared shape. You pick it into your arms, pressing it against your chest, and throw your bag over your shoulder. The intensity of terror around you spikes.

The three of you run. As fast as the crowd of bodies pushing against one another allows you to. Even though you don’t know what you’re running from. Another tormented screams pierces through the air and it makes you freeze in the spot. Wizards around you are nudging your shoulders, throwing you around while they bolt. You prop your head back and your watery eyes glimpse at the sky in the middle of dawn. The sight of smoke taking the shape of evil on it as if it were a canvas dethrones you utterly.

Incandescent green glow aligns the symbol of the wicked.

Death Eaters.

It hits you, this is truly happening and you’re in the eye of the storm. And another wave crashes over you through the passing moment, you had lost your friends in the crowd. You press the tent formed into a shape tighter against your chest, heart thundering in your body as ringing roars in your earbuds. You slump together a ball of courage to shove away others, slipping into an alley of tents out of the main route, where not as many people are rushing. You do your best and try to ease down the nauseous pit in your stomach. And your legs burn agonisingly, however, you’re not willing to give up.

Orientation in such a panicked state is hard thing to do, but you are successful of mapping the place after few turns and spins. One second you’re back on track running and another you’re shoved to the ground. You hiss in pain and get up anyway. Your knees and palms are muddy, a slight cut is painted over your palms. You mould it into a fist, which causes blood to spill.

You arrive back to where the boy’s tent should’ve been, instead there’s an empty space now. You look around in panic, trying to see anyone you would recognise. But it’s in vain.

They left.

They left

They left.

Fright seizes you, makes you utterly motionless as your gaze flickers between the rushing people. Your heart pounds against your ribs like a caged animal, every beat rattling through your chest. A cold sweat slicks your palms, making them clammy, useless. Your breathing is shallow. Too fast. Too uneven. Your stomach clenches and nausea creeps up the walls of your throat. You try to steady your hands, to make a valiant effort to think of a way to get out, but you’re met with betrayal of your body. And even though nobody can hear the deafening roar of panic flooding your head, drowning out all logic, all reason: it’s all reflected in your expression — body screaming for you to run, to escape, but there is nowhere to go.

Until one face turns into your direction. Your eyes widen in disbelief and this one look skyrockets your adrenaline, causing you to flee. To your dismay, the figure follows. A figure wearing a black hood and a mask with snake-like eye slits, covering the person’s identity. You race through the lanes, heart thumping so loud you can barely hear anything besides it. You don’t have the courage to look behind you, however, the sounds of footsteps closing in on you are unmistakable. You reach for your wand tugged away in the waist line of your shorts. You shouldn’t. You’re not allowed. Nevertheless, your safety is currently of importance. You’ll deal with the Ministry later.

“Protego,” you whisper out of breath and the wand in your grip fizzles out sparks of magic, casting a spell to protect you from any incoming attacks. And it seems it was right on time as the shield bounces off a curse thrown your way. It wouldn’t grant death, nonetheless, it would’ve been very painful.

You take turns in between the alleys, letting yourself fade into the crowd to shake off the masked evil tracing you. Roaring screams echoes again and overwhelming guilt suffocates you. You were the one to lead the evil into the sum of bodies.

“Fuck, L/N, here!” Margaret’s older brother calls out and immense gratitude washes over you. They’re still here. As soon as your eyes register where it came from, you feel like crying in bliss.

You’re too stunned as you reach them and before you can say or do anything, Margaret pulls you by your wrist into the port-key. The teleportation sets at the touch and sends you instantly to the hill where it all started. To safety.

“Merlin’s beard!”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,”

“I’m okay,”

Rushed whispers of reassurance pass between all of you. A brief worry for each other is spread through all of you, regardless of your unfriendly past.

“We gotta head back for Satoru,” Robin wheezes out and the sudden calmness of your surroundings startles you. Only then, when he speaks the words out loud and clear, you notice you’re indeed missing one member.

Right, you saw him leave earlier and head for the food stands.

“Don’t be crazy. We’re not going back there,” Margaret’s older brother declares and grabs his sister’s shoulder to shove her behind me in protectiveness.

“Knowing him, he’s already somewhere safe,” he adds and his eyes beam with something simple, only what they can decipher. A moment of understanding passes between. Robin nods and lets the whole situation go.

“Why didn’t you find him?” you make a lazy effort to understand what went on while you were separated.

“You think we didn’t look everywhere?” he spits fiercely. So much that it urges you to take a step back.

You have so many things you want to ask, but so little energy.

“Enough,” Margaret’s brother hisses “we’re going to check his family mansion,” he then places a hand over Robin’s chest to push him away from you and Arabella.

“Okay, be careful,” Arabella manages to mumble out in spite of the panic and rush, the meaning behind mostly served for Margaret.

You don’t say anything. And with that, they’re gone and you finally feel like breathing again. Your head spins and you truly feel like throwing up. You collide with the ground, knees hurting from the impact. Mild breeze caresses your side and you lie down into the grass to catch your breath. Arabella doesn’t interrupt the silence and lies down beside you, dropping her backpack first.

The cool grass cradles your body as it sinks into the earth, limbs heavy with exhaustion. The scent of summer—warm soil, dried greenery, the lingering trace of something sweet in the air fills your lungs. It does little to steady your racing heart. The echoes of what just happened still grip your mind, flashing behind your closed eyes like a movie you’ve just seen. Your fingers curl into the grass, grasping at something real, something solid, as if the earth itself might anchor you. The warm night air hums with the sound of distant cicadas, the world continues as if nothing has changed — though for the two of you, everything has.

Your breathings slow down. Not because the pain has lessened, but because there is nothing left to do but exist beneath the vastness of the sky, small and fragile and utterly human.

The sound of ruffling leaves and bending of grass crunches in the distance. Your friend sits up instantly out of fear. While you can’t be bothered as you’re somehow still processing the events.

“Gojo? Gojo!” Arabella huffs in disbelief and then squawks out as she realises it is truly him. She’s back on her feet, running towards the trees where he is. You tear your gaze away from the sky. His hand is cupping his shoulder. He’s hurt. You too sit up, but your reflexes aren’t as sharp as your friend’s after what you’ve been through so you remain in place.

“I panicked and this was the first place I thought of,” you hear his voice, the rest of their conversation unregistered. You curse under your breath, fingers gripping the stables of the grass and ripping them out before you do the same as Arabella.

“Where the hell were you?” your voice interrupts their conversation sharply and Arabella doesn’t protest, only watches. His head cocks towards you and your eyes slide down to his shoulder where the fabric of his shirt is slightly torn.

“Scared ya?” even at this moment he finds the strength to sound as cocky as ever.

You weren’t worried, although maybe a little, but you thought his actions to be misleading.

Strange.

“No, idiot, it’s suspicious,”

“And how did you manage to get splinched anyway, mister good at everything?” you ask instead of pressing further for answers.

“Wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind as they chased me,” this time his voice sounds more sincere and it’s clear he’s in pain, trying to mask it by his cockiness.

“I have herbs at home. I will bring them, hold on,” Arabella suddenly beams, shooting you both a worried look. Moment later she’s running down the hill through the meadows of tall grass and flowers.

“Herbs?” he echoes.

“She’s the best in herbology, you got nothing to worry about,” you say, not to reassure him down but to remind him.

“I know. She lives around here?” he huffs out, his breathing a little rough.

“Down the hill, behind the trees, yeah,” you look over your shoulder and point to where her house should be.

“Lucky me,” Satoru breathes out in relief and leans against one of the trees for support, his back sliding down.

Silence then hangs in the air as the two of you are alone in the dead of night, both still bewildered from the ruined tournament.

“Seriously, where were you?” you press again, voice smoother and less attacking. Still demanding.

“Picking up drinks,” he shrugs with ease and you can tell he’s not telling you the entire truth.

All sorts of scenarios bubble up.

You don’t pressure him, assuming he wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. You’re not friends after all. And he’s not your responsibility. However, the gnawing distress eats at you from the inside.

“Let me have a look at the splinch,” your body squats down next to him, eyeing his bloody shirt.

“Tenting to my wounds? How heroic of you,” he chuckles smugly with eyes baffled.

“Stop playing,” you flicker his shoulder and he winces in pain as a response.

“Ah, okay, okay. No need to get so aggressive,” voice filled with mockery and fake defensiveness. A pout decorates his lips, nonetheless, you can tell it’s all a facade right now.

Your fingers roll the fabric of his sleeve and he sucks in his breath, keeping quiet. The degree of the splinch didn’t seem to be a life threatening injury. His skin was torn open — no flesh nor muscles missing. Your eyes look up from his shoulders to see his expression, but to your dismay his eyes were fluttered shut so you couldn’t read it.

The wound was unusual. It was no splinching incident. Something else must have happened.

“You’ll live,” you tell him the outcome you’ve come to, pushing away the need for answers.

This isn’t yours to solve, you repeat to yourself.

You’re saved from the uncomfortable silence fizzling in the atmosphere by the return of Arabella who managed to seize the herbs from her room. You leave the job to her since she knows what’s she’s doing the best.

Essence of Dittany. The magical solution to his wound made from dried and crushed dittany leaves and salt water, which posses powerful properties that can be used on open shallow wounds for immediate healing and skin regeneration. You patiently watch your friend work her magic as his porcelain skin begins to bound together, leaving the spot flawless. Looking fresher than before.

From the look on her face you knew that she noticed it was no splinch wound either.

“Y/N,” the sound of your name jolts you back to reality.

You turn your head to the directions from where it came from.

“Mom, how did you-“ you fly to your feet, straightening yourself in an instant. You freeze as her hand lifts, gesturing for you to stop.

Silently telling you to leave it for later.

“You casted a spell, remember? You’re incredibly lucky I came across it before anyone else did,” she speaks slowly and gently, though her behaviour indicating that she is displeased with this whole situation. You open your mouth to defend yourself, but it’s no use, so you close it. You grip the denim fabric of your shorts, telling yourself to keep quiet. You know how vast the punishments for underage wizards were, sometimes so cruel as to expel you from Hogwarts if the circumstances were serious. Which a mere spell of deference such as the one you used wasn’t. Anyway, it could still land you trouble.

And the fact Satoru Gojo, out of all people heard — made you want to vanish from the surface.

He is already eighteen, free to cast spells.

While you aren’t.

And he’s free to report you.

“Get up, boy. I will get you home. Your mother must be worried sick,” her motions are robot like, cold yet polite as she makes the offer. Her gaze fleets towards the only son of the Gojo family. And for the first time you see your mother acting like the true Head Auror of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement she is and not like a parental figure. You saw her at work thousands of times, yet never before like this.

“Thank you, Ma’m,” the young white haired wizard blinks at her before managing an answer. He clumsily collects himself, his arm healed yet still lacking its usual flexibility.

“You two go back to Arabella’s place. Be ready in fifteen minutes,” your mother calls out to you and Arabella as she turns around to face you, wand in her hand. She reaches for Satoru.

“Please, let me explain,” you plea

You’re met with a firm answer: “In fifteen minutes. Go. Now,”

“Bye,” Satoru mumbles awkwardly. His eyes flying over to your friend and then to you, lingering unnecessarily a moment longer before he disappears with your mother. Out of your sights.

Dehumanising sense washes over you. This isn’t how your summer was supposed to start off. It was meant to be sweet.

You turn to look at Arabella who’s staring out into the open, plains of fields which are barely visible as they are tucked away beneath the darkness of the night sprawled ahead. Your voice breaks into the open to encourage her to move, to leave the terror’s of the night behind.

The walk to her house is alien like.

“The spell was a self defence, your mom will surely understand,” she speaks as you head down the hill, muscles of your legs burning from all the sprinting earlier.

“I am not worried about that,” you beam, heading down.

“What do you mean?”

“You saw the wound,”

Arabella hitched lightly at your words.

“I did,” she agrees “you don’t think he-?”

“I’m not sure about anything anymore,” you confess in defeat.

A vivid memory of your conversation with him in front of the tent replays and it bugs you.

I do.

He does.

He does share their views, but surely, he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

Right?

“It’s not any good. They are pressing down onto mom and if anyone finds out what she did for me then- then-“ you break out, however, tears don’t come. Perhaps you’re utterly spent, who knows, but nothing comes out.

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” a hand lands on your lower back in a gentle manner, seeking to soothe down your nerves.

“It’s gonna be okay, you’ll see,”

But you’re not so sure about it. Couple of hours maybe, not now.

You stop in front of Arabella’s house and it bittersweetly makes you recall all those times you spent at her house. Endless summer days filled with youth and deprived of any worries. The silly routine you two had leaves a sense of longing in your chest.

“Please. Don’t mention anything to my parents. They were already anxious enough to even let me go and if they figured what happened, it would only worry them,” her voice is low, the lights in her parent’s house out. They must be sleeping.

“Write me, will you?” you pull her into your arms and whisper small promises into her ear. Both about keeping quiet and reaching out. You held her for a moment longer, unsure of everything.

“Take care, Ara,” you rub her shoulder and bid your goodbyes.

And it isn’t long till your mother arrives, empty handed now.

“What were you thinking, trusting that boy?” she starts the second she appears and the words. They sting. You can’t comprehend how she’s able to ask such a thing when the history between you and the pure-blood of the Gojo family is known. And not for its fondness.

“He had a registered port-key and we needed to get to the tournament. That’s all. I never trusted him and I won’t. We were separated and kept to ourselves. When the attack happened, Gojo was missing and he stumbled here,” you explain.

“What if he had been there? Do you think they would have waited for you?”

“Mom, we’re not on good terms, but I am sure they-“

“You shall not be close to that boy again. I do not wish it,” her tone is light as she can’t bear to stay mad at you. Not now, at least. She had been worried sick the second the news of the attack reached her and when she saw your name in the register of the casted spell, she thought of the worst possibilities.

“You don’t need to say that twice,” you slum your shoulders. Your mother drops the act, steps closer to wrap you into her arms and whispers how glad she is you’re okay. Her familiar scent reaches your senses and then you’re hugging her back.

“Let’s go home. Your father is probably going crazy,” she mumbles into the shell of your ear before pulling away.

credits for dividers: [@enchanthings-a @cafekitsune]

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vinnyvamppp · 3 months ago

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Can I request for Ladybug! Reader? I saw a TikTok video where Marinette was telling some heroes she could just Miraculous ladybug everything back to normal and they want to hire her because of that.

So imagine this but with Invincible, Reader's like his next door neighbor - yes she witnessed him learning how to land and she got pissed at that cuz IT WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

I like the idea of her revealing her identity to Mark so she can join him in missions whenever, so anytime he destroyed half of a city she just Miraculous ladybug everything and goes "YOUR WELCOME ASSHOLEEE!!"

And maybe during the Invincible war, she lucky charms a whip while fighting a variant (either Mohawk Mark or No goggles Mark cuz they freaky like that) and she goes wtf am I supposed to do with this?

(sorry I'm rambling a lot I just like the potential of this concept)

Friendly Neighborhood Inconvenience

NOTE: THIS IDEA WAS SOOOO FUN, Its 1 am for me and I've been giggling away while typing. I've taken a different approach to my usually long writing to make this more conversationally driven. I'm not straying too much so the vision is accurate. Up and away!

Synopsis: Mark Grayson, is your biggest inconvenience and friend... whom you also live next to. Super-powered besties...? :) Warnings: None, my first non-smut-related blog yes yes! Just two idiots with powers. Mark Grayson x Ladybug!Reader Word Count: 1,000

You knew Mark Grayson was going to be a problem the moment he crashed into your backyard.

Not metaphorically. Not in a "he’s my annoying next-door neighbor" way. No, Mark Grayson, your classmate, occasional physics partner, and guy who still owed you ten bucks from a group project, literally smashed into the ground outside your window at 2 AM.

You had been peacefully sleeping, dreaming of things far, far away from the absolute disaster that was your life, when a loud THUD shook your house. The crashes you had been imagining in your dreams began to manifest outside of your home. Were you under attack? Has the house shifted? Did your insomnia finally catch up to you? You jolted awake, heart racing, and sprinting as you immediately threw open your window to find Mark groaning in a crater. Oh…

"...Are you serious right now?"

He looked up, squinting and disoriented. "Huh—? Oh. Uh. Hey, neighbor."

"You woke me up," you deadpanned.

"Sorry," he wheezed, struggling to stand. His hands planting themselves against his knees.

"Mark. Why are you in my backyard." Your fingers gestured to the now three unevenly placed craters, one having a busted water pipe.

At that, he winced. "I was... learning how to land."

"You… know how to fly?” Correction: Barely. “...In the middle of the night?"

"Y-Yeah?"

You sighed so hard it could’ve put out a candle. "Grayson, I swear to God, if you ever—"

His attention suddenly turned towards his bedroom, the voice of his mothers concerned cries calling out for him jolted him into focus. And then he zoomed away, barely getting his balance, leaving you seething in your pajamas.

Yeah. Mark Grayson was going to be a problem. One you couldn’t avoid. Mark thought he was so slick. Just how did he manage his grades being so reckless? He’d show up to school exhausted, disappear at the most inconvenient times, and had that whole "Oops, did I break another building? Teehee!" energy about him. You knew. Oh, you knew.

Because the second you saw him with a black eye in the hallway after a “plumbing accident,” you put two and two together. You’d seen Invincible on the news. You’d seen him stumble into your backyard like an idiot. Not to mention the various times he’d confidently strut into his home WEARING HIS COSTUME. Though, you always assumed he was just into comic con and somewhat of a superhero nerd.

So when the time finally came to throw off the mask, you did it spectacularly.

Mark stood in your living room, eyes wide, staring at you in full Ladybug attire. "Wait—YOU’RE LADYBUG?!"

You smirked, spinning your yo-yo. "Surpriiiise~!"

"But—how—why—?!"

"Bro, did you really think you were the only one sneaking around at night?!"

Mark ran a hand through his hair, still struggling to process. "You fix everything after my fights?"

"Ding ding ding!" You clapped your hands. "Every time you break a city block, I put it back together. Every. Single. Time."

His jaw dropped. "Oh my God."

"Oh your God is right. Do you know how hard it is to undo your messes?! Half the time, I don’t even know what I’m fixing! You knock over a skyscraper, I gotta wing it! And every fight wrecks at least ten buildings!"

Mark laughed, but there was guilt in his eyes. "...So, uh. Guess this means you can help out more?"

You crossed your arms. "Help? Babe, I’ve been your cleanup crew this entire time. You should be helping me."

And thus, the most chaotic partnership in hero history was born. Cecil had been hounding you anyway, so this panned out in your favor. Being close and personal to his hero-ly escapades made the clean up easier to maintain… for your sanity of course. You had been through some rough days. Fought some wild villains. But nothing could have prepared you for an entire army of Invincibles tearing through the planet. Honestly, you were terrified; and left ragged, but keeping your wits about you would be the best bet you had for survival.

You were dodging a punch from one of them, Mohawk Mark, which was an awful fashion choice, by the way, when your Lucky Charm activated. Perhaps it was something helpful like a pair of shears to correct his funky haircut. A bright light flashed, and in your hand, you felt—

A whip.

You blinked.

"...What the hell am I supposed to do with this?!"

Mohawk Mark lunged at you with a cheeky grin, enthralled more than anything. “Didn’t know you were into that, could use another one of you.” He teased.

"Shit—!"

You improvised. And like a thirsty mutt, he hounded you like a new obsession. Who knew men with harems could be so freaky? Later, when the war was over, when the dust settled and the leveled cities were, miraculously, nearly restored, you stood next to Mark, arms crossed, glaring at him.

"Go ahead," he muttered.

"You know what I’m gonna say," you grinned, nudging him slightly.

He sighed.

"Go on," you sing-songed.

"…Thanks."

"And—?"

"...Sorry for all the messes."

You smirked, patting his shoulder. "See? That wasn’t so hard. Now go buy me dinner, asshole."

Mark groaned. "You're never gonna let this go, huh?

"Not in a million years." Secretly, he would be happy too, but the poor boy was embarrassed from being proven wrong that his lips sealed shut. As Mark begrudgingly led the way to the nearest burger joint, you grinned, spinning your yo-yo around your finger. The city skyline gleamed, perfectly restored, thanks to you. The world was safe again—also thanks to you. And despite the chaos, the near-death experiences, and the fact that you were probably stuck dealing with Mark’s messes forever… you wouldn’t have it any other way. Ugh, I just love writing in-character stories. I HOPE THIS LIVED UP TO YOUR REQUESTS EXPECTATIONS LMAO.

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

#invincible #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #fanfic #x reader #fem reader #creative writing #anon ask #mark grayson invincible #mark grayson x you #miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #invincible show #invincible comic #invincible season 3

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kukustreehouse · 3 months ago

Text

MAYBE ITS FATE?

・❥・Shin Asakura x reader

{VERY SHORT AND VERY AWKWARD >_<}

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Business was slow today.

But to be fair, it was a rainy monday.

Lu was asleep somewhere and Sakamoto stepped out with his family for a bit. So, with no customers coming in and no one to talk to, Shin occupied his time by watching the raindrops race each other. Eventually, that got boring, so he made paper airplanes out of any paper he could find; post-it notes, regular paper, even old flyers.

The more the time ticked, the more he felt his motivation leave his body. He felt like he was a kid again stuck at the lab to do whatever minus the people he could bother. A sigh escaped his mouth before he leaned against the wall behind the cash register, eyes closed.

‘Oh, a convenience store, perfect!’

Swiftly, he opened his eyes and returned to his typical spot. It was about time he got something to actually do. The moment you walked in was the moment he questioned everything about himself, from inside and out. His sight was glued onto your every move. Anyone else would assume you’re stealing something by how much he stared! But honestly, could you blame him? The way how your h/c hair still managed to look flawless in this kind of weather, your sense in fashion, your beautiful s/c skin. Everything about you caught his full attention.

When you finished picking out your items, you approached him with a small smile on your face; greeting him with a soft “Hello!” as you placed the items down on the counter. He blinked before turning red.

“A-Ah, hey! My bad, I uh, spaced out!” he stammered. You laughed gently, reassuring him that you didn't take offense. As he rang up your things, you took a peek at the downpour outside.

“Gloomy day we’re having huh?” you added to the conversation.

He placed his hand on the back of his neck before chuckling.

“Geez, tell me about it…” He sighed, “And it’s a monday too, just horrible!”

You laughed again. ‘I’m glad I stopped by here, this guy is making my day much better…and he’s cute.’ You thought to yourself as you watched him put your things in a bag. Shin became flustered again. Gosh he felt like a pot boiling over! An attractive person- heavensent probably, complimenting him.

“Hopefully your day gets better.” He sputtered out, trying to keep his cool as he slid the bag to you.

“How much do I pay?”

“Ah, right! It’s 10 dollars.”

You huffed out of adoration. As you took out your wallet to hand him the money, you silently cringed at your impulsive thoughts;

‘What if I gave him my phone number then leave? That would be weird…I wouldn’t wanna make him uncomfortable… a guy like him probably has a lover already.’

That was when you remembered.

“Wait, you told me you hoped my day would get better- How’d you know my day was bad?”

Shin gulped. Sweat began racing down his face and he failed to hold eye contact. He was selling! How embarrassing. There's no coming back from this one, huh?

“Your tone kinda gave it away…it sounded as if you were forcing it to be mellow.” he explained off the top of his head (Which was complete bullshit. It was either that or come out as a clairvoyance.)

‘My tone..? Is it really that obvious?’ you shook it off, putting your questions behind you and focusing on the real world; storing your wallet back where it came from and getting ready to say your goodbyes.

Shin went to war with his mind. There was no way he was gonna stand by and let someone like you walk away without his contacts!

“You know, I would love to see you more,” He called out. You turned around to see him writing with a pen on a post it note, before holding it out for you. “Here’s my number, call me sometime, ‘kay?”

Truly, you were at a loss for words. At this point, you had a face of a barbie doll with how long your smile was staying on your face.

“Will do!” You chirped, promptly taking the post it note and putting it in your pocket. After you left, Shin let out an exhale of relief, smirking to himself as he thought about you.

“Man, Sakamoto would be proud.”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

#sakamoto days #shin asakura #sakamoto days shin #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days x you #short story #shin asakura x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #this is cringe #so sorry

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stayteezdreams · 9 months ago

Text

Movie Night

Plot: During your bi-monthly movie night with the guys, Yunho, your long time friend and secret crush, decides to finally make a move.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Detailed Kissing, mild touching. Not nsfw or smut, but hinting at that direction. 18+ only please.

A/n: This is the first fic in which I am getting a bit more detailed with kissing/suggestive content, so I hope you like it. Note: I will not write nsfw/smut detailed content.

Words: 3.4k

After grabbing the final bowl of popcorn you headed into the living room. Everyone was finding their spots as you moved to your favorite corner of the large couch.

As you began to settle, Wooyoung moved to sit beside you, but Yunho appeared as well. You watched as Yunho wordlessly tapped Wooyoung's shoulder before waving his hand, gesturing for him to go somewhere else.

As Wooyoung let out an annoyed whine before moving over to sit beside Yeosang, you felt your heart flutter as Yunho grinned at you as he sat down beside you.

You smiled at him with light amusement, trying to ignore your increasing heart rate and warming cheeks due to his actions. Yunho often sat beside you, but if someone else sat next to you first he would just sit somewhere else. This was the first time he made sure he sat beside you.

While Yunho got comfortable beside you, you pushed away your hopeful thoughts, assuming you were looking for something that wasn't really there. Though, the proximity of Yunho's body next to yours was unusually close. Much closer than normal. Glancing beside Yunho, you noticed almost a foot of space between him and San.

He didn't have to be this close, so why was he? Your heart fluttered again as you moved your attention to Wooyoung and Hongjoong arguing about which movie to play first.

As Yunho chuckled at them, he pushed himself further into the couch, his arms noticeably pressing against yours, almost as if he was doing it on purpose.

When Hongjoong and Wooyoung finally decided on a movie, you managed to concentrate on it as it played. At least for a short time, up until Yunho nestled himself closer to you as he moved his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side.

Your felt your breath catch as your heart skipped a beat. You resisted glancing over at him, not wanting him to see how his actions affected you.

You had sat like this before, hell you two had cuddled a hundred times. But ever since you realized you had feelings for your best-friend, every time felt different now, a form of pleasant torture.

You forced yourself to focus on the movie, but as hard as you tried, your mind kept drifting back to Yunho's arm draped around your shoulder. And you couldn't help but notice the way he seemed to press circles into your shoulder with his fingers absentmindedly.

Although your stomach was in a constant flutter, you allowed yourself to relax more into the couch. And you finally began to grow comfortable again, until the second movie began to play, and San decided he wanted to lie down.

He stretched himself out, purposefully pushing Yunho against you with a playful grin. Yunho playfully smacked him, making San chuckle, but as San relaxed himself, you noticed Yunho did not move away from you. His arm had moved from your shoulders and was now wrapped around your waist, and you felt like one slight movement towards him would put you on his lap.

Your heart was racing as your neck burned hot. Did this not affect him at all?

You reminded yourself with a soft breath that it used to not bother you either. You used to never notice how close the two of you would get sometimes. But now you seemed hyper aware of every action, of every touch.

Wanting to relieve yourself of some of this torture, you started to adjust yourself so you weren't invading his space so much, you tried to position your legs comfortably, but as Mingi sat on the ground in front of you, you couldn't quite do it.

Suddenly, Yunho reached over with his free arm, grabbing your legs, and lifting them. He pivoted you until you were turned more towards him, your legs draped across his lap. The arm around your waist, held you closer as he moved himself towards you again, pressing the two of you together into the corner of the couch. You were about 70% on top of him, as he held you in his arms.

Your eyes locked with his as he finished adjusting the two of you. You knew your face must have appeared stunned as Yunho smiled in amusement. Something seemed to sparkle in his eyes, something almost mischievous, before he covered it up with an innocent and quizzical hum.

Pulling you closer so you were against his chest, your heart raced as you weren't sure what to do. He placed his attention back on the movie with a simple clearing of his throat, as if what he did didn't affect you. This was different than normal, tonight his actions almost seemed calculated, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

Did he become aware of your feelings? Was he teasing you? Or maybe he felt the same? Or, maybe it was just your cuddle loving best-friend being a bit clingier tonight.

As your heart and mind raced, Yunho kept his hand on your waist, holding you against him, his other hand gripping your thigh lightly. Occasionally, his hands would lightly squeeze, and every single time, your heart jolted.

No matter how much your heart or mind raced, you found yourself relaxing into him. No matter how much his touch drove you crazy, you felt comfortable in his arms.

Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, you allowed yourself to sink into his embrace as the night went on.

As it grew later into the night, all the snacks had been eaten, and the last movie was played. Seonghwa had turned the lights off, leaving the living room dark apart from the light from the television screen.

Wooyoung, Mingi and Hongjoong were half asleep, as the others casually watched the movie while playing on their phones or chatting quietly.

You were still lying against Yunho, having not moved since he first pulled you against him. Not just because you didn't want to move, but because he wouldn't let you. Any time you adjusted or slightly moved, his grip would tighten, as if he feared you were going to get up.

As the late-night chill began to settle, you felt a shiver radiate through you, you felt yourself leaning into Yunho for warmth. Yunho glanced down at you, having noticed. Reaching over, he tapped San who lazily looked over, obviously having been on the verge of sleep. Yunho motioned for one of the blankets on the edge of the couch.

You looked over as Yunho moved, seeing him taking a blanket from San before opening it to place it over the two of you.

You felt your heart flutter as you realized he must have noticed you were getting colder. After fixing the blanket over the two of you he held you a bit closer as he brought his mouth near your ear.

"Better?"

Another shiver ran up your spine, but not because of the cold. Glancing up, you caught his eyes and nodded with a soft smile. He smiled in return, and you swear you saw his gaze flick to your lips for a moment.

You looked away from him quickly, missing the soft smirk playing on his lips as he continued to watch you for a moment.

Yunho knew you must have noticed his change behavior by now. With the way you would freeze, or your breath would catch anytime he moved to hold you closer.

He needed to be more obvious with his feelings for you to really notice how he felt about you. The two of you were already so close, his past actions seemed normal, so he decided to be a bit riskier with his touches.

Ever since he noticed how you started to be a bit more distant or react to his touch more than you had before, he realized your feelings had changed. And now he knew it was finally his chance to show you he felt the same, that he had for a long time.

Yunho was emotionally intelligent, and he knew exactly what he wanted, and needed to say to you, but anytime he wanted to, he felt it was too hard. So, he decided to let his actions speak louder than his words, in hopes you would understand, finally, how he felt. How you made him feel.

With his actions tonight, you would know now, just how your touch had affected him for so long. How every time you rested your head on his shoulder his heart would flutter. Or how you would wrap your arms around him in a hug, his breath would catch. How every time you were close to him, he wanted to reach out and hold you.

It had been torture for him for so long, and now you were feeling the same. He wanted it to end for the both of you, and become something so much more.

Gently, Yunho's fingers began rubbing circles into your side, gradually, the movement caused your shirt to rise until his fingers were touching your skin, but still, he didn't stop. His other hand seemed to be squeezing your thigh absentmindedly as he continued to watch the movie, seemingly paying you no mind.

His touches were driving you crazy, but was worse was that you were still unsure if he was doing it on purpose or not. You wanted to believe he was, that way you would know he felt the same. But you two had been far too comfortable with each other during your friendship for you to know for sure if this was different.

You hadn't realized you let out a sigh, but Yunho did. He smiled softly to himself, wondering just how crazy he was driving you. You seemed to be avoiding his gaze, trying your best to ignore his actions. Maybe you still didn't get it.

Your breath caught as Yunho's hand slid from your thigh, slowly up your waist, his fingers gently grazing until he found your hand resting against your stomach. Taking your hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours to hold your hand.

From the positioning of your hands, you were certain he must feel the way your heart was beating painfully in your chest. Slowly, you moved your head from his shoulder to look up at him, only to find him already looking at you.

You froze as his eyes locked with yours, he had a soft smile on his lips. A knowing one, one that told you he did know what he was doing. As the light from the tv lit up his face you saw his eyes shifting around your face, as if he was admiring you. His gaze paused on your lips before he met your eyes again.

Yunho could see the unspoken confusion in your gaze, the questions racing through your mind. His smile grew just a bit as he pulled you a bit closer and squeezed your hand.

His face continued to grow closer, before you felt his breath brush your lips, his nose pressing gently against yours. There was a subtle smile still present on his face as his eyes remained locked with yours.

At an almost agonizingly slow pace, his lips pressed against yours. A gentle, soft kiss, before he pulled away just to look into your eyes. Seeing how you would react. You were obviously stunned but made no move to pull away or tell him to stop. So he leaned in again, the kiss more affectionate this time. Your eyes closed as you felt yourself melt into him, your mind going blank.

Slow, yet determined, his mouth explored yours. His tongue gently grazed your lips as if he was uncertain to go further. His hand around your waist pulled you closer to him as his other hand gripped your own tightly. The kiss became a little sloppy as Yunho had a hard time restraining himself. As badly as he wanted to show you just how much he wanted you, he was still aware of the others in the room.

With a soft tug of your bottom lip as he pulled away, he let out a soft restrained breath. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. Releasing your hand, he brought his hand up to gently caress your cheek.

Leaning closer, he pressed his cheek against yours as he whispered softly, "I've been wanting to do that for so long."

Pulling away he saw the shock in your gaze, as if you truly did not expect him to have had feelings for you, let alone for a long time. He smiled softly.

Your mind was racing with various thoughts, questions, and screaming. Unable to find words to express yourself, you found yourself repressing a flustered grin as you pressed your face into Yunho's neck to hide your shy embarrassment.

Yunho let out a silent chuckle as he cupped the back of your head, pressing a kiss to the top of it. Your reaction was endearing, and all he wanted was to hold you and express to you just how much he cared for you.

Hearing Wooyoung make an annoyed comment at the movie, your heart jumped. You had almost forgotten the others were there. Looking around, you were glad to find no one paying you any attention, half of them being asleep now.

Sparing a shy glance up at Yunho he was grinning down at you. Looking around himself, he met your eyes again before suddenly leaning down and kissing you again.

You barely caught the gasp that tried to escape. He pulled away and smiled teasingly before he looked around again. Meeting your eyes, he gently cupped your chin as he leaned forward. His lips barely brushed yours before he pulled you into another kiss.

This time the kiss was not restrained, his tongue pushed past your lips as he explored your mouth. Your heart jolted at the action as your hands gripped his shirt. His hand on your waist tightened as if he was losing a battle with himself. His hand moved from your face to the back of your head as he deepened the kiss even more.

You found it hard to breath as you almost saw stars from the desperation behind his kiss. A loud noise from the movie allowed you to pull yourself from the gradual loss of awareness. Pushing Yunho lightly, he pulled away. He repressed his panting breaths, not wanting to draw attention.

His eyes met yours and you saw a bit of guilt behind them, as he realized he had let himself go a bit too much.

You looked around to see you had still not drawn an attention to yourself. Meeting Yunho's eyes again you smiled softly out of shyness, and he smiled in return.

Yunho swallowed harshly, reminding himself he needed to hold back. You responded well to his actions, but you were not alone.

As Hongjoong began speaking to Wooyoung and Jongho, Yunho pulled away from you a bit. His hand remained on your waist, as he gently took your other hand in his own.

Yunho wished the movie would go faster as he gently played with your fingers underneath the blanket. You shared a few bashful and longing looks for the rest of the movie.

Yunho risked a few kisses to your temple and cheek, causing you to only sink further into the couch out of shyness and fear of being caught. Every time, Yunho repressed a proud and teasing chuckle.

When the movie finally came to an end, Seonghwa flicked on the lights in hopes of waking those who fell asleep. A chorus of groans filled the room as the lights burned your eyes.

Yunho, though reluctantly, let go of you and pulled away, so that no one noticed just how close you had gotten by the end of the night.

Your mind raced with questions to ask Yunho. How long had he liked you? Did he already know about your feelings? Why did he decide to make them known tonight?

Your heart also burned with want, you wanted him to kiss you more, to hold you close again. You almost felt shameful, but the way Yunho kept finding your gaze and matching it with his own almost lustful stare told you it was not you alone who felt it.

After helping to clean up, some decided to stay the night at Seonghwa's rather than making the journey home. Yunho volunteered to walk you home, since you lived only a short walk away.

Your heart jolted at his offer, but it came as no surprise to the others. You said your goodbyes before you and Yunho began walking down the road. Yunho wasted no time in taking your hand in his.

You smiled over at him as he grinned. All of your questions came rushing to mind again, but you weren't sure where to start.

"Yunho-"

"Three years."

You looked at him with a questioning gaze as he smiled. "That's how long I've had feelings for you."

You were shocked, hesitating in your steps for a moment. "Three years?!"

He chuckled softly, "I knew your feelings hadn't changed, so I didn't bother to say anything."

You looked down at your feet as you walked, guilt racing through you. "Then….how did you know my feelings did change? And when?"

He thought for a moment, "I started to notice you acting more reserved or shy around me a few months ago, especially when we were close, physically."

You felt your ears burning as Yunho smiled slyly at you. "At first I wasn't sure if I was looking for something that wasn't there. But eventually I figured out it was what I thought. So, I decided to do something about it."

"Tonight was you doing something about it?" You let out a soft laugh as he nodded. "Why not just ask me on a date, or tell me?"

He hummed, "I guess I wanted to tease you a bit." He smirked at your soft glare at him. "I had been dealing with the torture of being close to you without getting to do anything, so I thought…"

You stopped walking, "You thought I deserved to feel it too?"

Yunho hesitated for a second. Should he have thought about it more? Was it going to make you angry?

Smacking his shoulder with an annoyed expression Yunho let out a laugh. "I'm sorry." He pulled you towards him as he looked into your eyes. "I guess it was a little petty. But…I liked how you reacted."

You glared at him, your heart and stomach fluttering heavily at his words. He leaned closer to you, brushing his nose against yours, he questioned you with his eyes, and when your already forced glare faltered and you repressed a smile, he dove in for a kiss.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he kissed you almost hungrily. With no others around to possibly see you, he allowed himself to pull you closer, his hand travelling down your back and resting just above your hips as his fingers dug into your skin.

Pulling away, he smiled at you while licking his lips, repressing the urge to kiss you again, he took your hand in his once again and started to walk with you.

You were flustered by his quick changing actions, as your heart raced, and face burned hot.

As you turned down a street, you looked around confused. "My house is the other way."

You could see a smile spread on his face, "I know. We aren't going to your house."

"Then where are we going?"

"My house."

He glanced back at you, a soft smirk on his face as his eyes seemed heavy, a hunger in them you felt twist your stomach in excitement.

You didn't refuse him as you allowed him to lead you down road after road, the streets becoming familiar again as you got closer and closer to his apartment building.

Your chest was heavy with anxiety, as your heart and stomach fluttered with anticipation. This wasn't how you imagined a relationship with Yunho beginning, but you really weren't complaining. Both of you had tortured yourselves with silent pining for long enough.

Yunho's thoughts echoed your own, but with a hunger he couldn't repress. Three years was too long for Yunho to go slow in this relationship. He wanted to be in the middle before you even began. He had adored you, craved you, and loved you for long enough. It was your turn to understand just how much.

xx End xx

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#yunho x reader #yunho/reader #ateez x reader #ateez/reader #yunho imagine #yunho fic #yunho oneshot #ateez imagine #ateez fic #ateez oneshot #ateez reader insert #yunho reader insert #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho/reader #jeong yunho imagine

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peachsayshi · 1 year ago

Note

Hey Peach! How are you?

I want to request number 64 (Unexpected kisses that get all hot and heavy) with geto suguru please and thank you 🌸💓

➳ minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

⥽ notes: hello, sweets! thank you so much for sending over this request. I'm sorry it took me some time to write out but I do hope you enjoy this little scenario between geto x reader! I hope you are doing well! tags: non-curse au; geto x reader are "rivals". a little angsty and steamy.

"why do you hate me?" suguru asks, but he's standing far too close to your liking. his pretty boy smile a glow in the shadows, his body closing in as he takes another step forward.

you stutter when you breathe, your chest rising and falling. you place one hand against his heart, feeling it beat as you halt his movements. your eyes shift to the window behind you, watching the rain shower underneath the thunderous applause from clouds above.

there is truly no escaping. a part of you wishing you had left with your group in the morning as intended. but now you're stuck here all by yourself with suguru. with no place to go, and no light to guide you out.

"I don't hate you," you say through gritted teeth, irritation igniting in the depths of your core. you swallow the uncomfortable knot in your throat.

it's a shame that you can't get along with suguru. it's not like you haven't tried, but for whatever reason that man manages to get under your skin in ways you can't even explain. you don't know if it's his infuriating attention to detail, or the fact that he knows what is the right thing to say to send you over the edge.

"you do," he replies, making you catch your breath because he actually sounds disappointed.

two hands come to both sides of your face, his palms pressing against the wall as he looks down at you. a crackle of lighting shatters the sky, illuminating the serious expression on his infuriatingly handsome features.

how did you both end up here after being in a heated argument only a few minutes ago?

"well, you don't like me either," you insist, lifting your head high and turning your chin up proudly.

he taps his thumb against the wall, contemplative. a twitch in his jaw as he takes in your words.

"I never said I didn't like you-"

"of course you did," you bite back, stubborn to believe that these words are true because why else do you both keep getting off on the wrong foot.

"when?"

your brain filters through every memory, every conversation, every exchange to recall any ounce of evidence to validate your statement.

suguru dips his head down, your hand squeezing the fabric of his shirt. so tight your knuckles turn white, and you're ready to push him away. but your spine tingles when you feel him lightly graze his lips over yours, his breath fanning your skin.

"when?" he repeats.

your mind spins, your heart races. you find yourself easing your grip, while Suguru's hand meets your waist.

he must be teasing you, you think. playing a dirty joke. but before you can fight back, he leans in for a kiss, pressing his mouth firmly against yours.

the gesture is soft and kind. so sweet it's like you're eating a spoonful of sugar. he pecks your mouth once, pulls away to give you a second, before returning for another kiss.

waiting, hoping, you'll invite him for more.

and when you do he slides his tongue hungrily, one hand dropping to the curve of your shoulder while the other reaches for your thigh to hook your leg over his hip, keeping you pinned up against the wall.

you rock your hips against him, desperate for friction. and when he returns the gesture it only makes you moan. an explosion erupts from within - engulfing you with a desire that's foreign to your being. there's a clash of lips, teeth and tongue - nips and kisses that make the space between your legs pulse. your hand grips onto his hair, the other curling around his neck.

you don't even want to breathe. you want to keep fighting. keep arguing. and this new form of communication works out nicely for you, you think.

but there's a flicker above, warm light colliding against the cool bolts from the lightning outside. the power returns abruptly, shocking you and suguru when you both stop kissing to stare up at the ceiling.

you're both panting, limbs linked as you remain intertwined in complications that you don't have the time to sift through at the moment.

suguru returns to look at you, licking his lips to taste you once more. he eases his hold, helps readjust your posture as he takes a small step back. his gaze never leaves yours, confusion boiling in his irises. you part your lips to say his name, but instead he cups your cheeks with both palms and leaves one more innocent kiss in his wake.

you are stunned when he drops his hands, a tiny grin a sign of relief.

he hums, "maybe, you don't hate me either..."

your heart is feverish watching him walk away, and for the first time in your life, he manages to leave you speechless.

requests for these prompts are closed.

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto x female reader #geto fluff #geto angst #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years ago

Text

Title: Undetered.

Continuation of Unrequited.

Pairing: Arlecchino x Reader x Furina (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Obnoxious Sapphic Pining, Lesbian Melodrama, and Spoilers for the Fontaine Story Quest. Live Dove: Tender and Sweet.

Truly, you were fortunate to have such a persistent suitor.

And, truly, Arlecchino was lucky to be so desperately in love with someone who so often left their windows unlocked.

Lady Furina – or, rather, Miss Furina now – might not have had the limitless means of an archon, but her manor was still sizable enough to leave convenient gaps between patrolling guards. Vaulting the stone gate was child’s play, climbing to the second floor a task that would’ve been easily passed off to one of her less capable subordinates, remaining unseen as she worked a dagger between the glass pane and its wooden frame until the mechanism gave and she could slip into your bedroom an art she’d perfected over decades of careful practice. She never expected to use her talents for a matter so personal, but still, expertise couldn’t be denied.

Although Furina’s burdens weren’t quite as heavy as an opera star as they’d been as an archon, you still took care of her affairs dutifully – ever the loyal companion despite your favored idol having been proved false. Even now, in the dead of night, you were chained to your desk, your fingertips stained with ink and your quill abused to the point of dullness. It took a moment for you to take notice of the draft, to straighten your back and glance blearily in her direction, but whatever exhaustion stole your attention from her seemed to disappear the moment you met her eyes. You scrambled to rise, to call for your guards, but she was already closing the distance between you, already trapping you against the edge of your desk, an arm caging you in on either side. Too breathless to spare a proper greeting, she took your hand in her own and held it to her chest. If she had a heartbeat, you might’ve been able to hear it racing. “My love, my light,” You opened your mouth, undoubtedly preparing one of the dismissive platitudes you so often offered her, but just this once, she refused herself the pleasure that was listening to your voice. Time was precious, tonight, and she couldn’t afford to be so indulgent. “I’m leaving for Snezhnaya at dawn, and I will only dare to ask this once—” She paused, forced herself to breath. “Come with me.”

Your eyes remained wide and horrified. “Lord Arlecchino.” And then, after a short lapse, “You’re in my bedroom.”

“If you must serve a god,” she went on, unfazed by your shock. “Then serve me. I know you think you’ve found a purpose in Furina, but there is nothing in the world she can give you that I can’t. There’s nothing she does for you that I’m not willing to.” She raised your hand to her mouth, her lips grazing over your knuckles. “You don’t have to love me. All I ask is to be able to pretend you might, one day.”

It was your turn to manage a ragged inhale, now, to draw yourself out of her hold with a quick shake of your head, a dry swallow. “You can’t—” You started towards the door, then thought better of it, taking to pacing as you glared daggers towards the carpeting. “You cannot be here. You have to leave, and you have to make sure no one sees you.”

“I’m not afraid of a few guards,” she cut in. “If I had to fight a thousand men for your hand, I’d draw my sword without a second thought.”

“You don’t understand. She thinks I don’t know, but—” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “She writes these— these fictions, and if she finds that you’ve broken into her estate in the middle of the night wearing—” You gestured vaguely to her, or more specifically, to the pitch-black bodysuit she usually wore to her less scrupulous encounters. “—that, I’ll have to travel far past Snezhnaya before I ever hear the end of it.”

With an airy chuckle, she found her way back to your side. As gently as she could, she took you by the arm, and when you failed to protest, drew you into a delicate embrace. “What are you afraid of, dear?”

You slackened against her chest. “I… I honestly don’t know how to explain it,” you admitted. “It’s just, ever since you first came to Fontaine, she’s been inf—”

This time, you were interrupted by the door to your bedroom slamming open, your mistress appearing above the threshold – already posed with one hand on her waist and the other curled around the handle of a mahogany cane, her eyes shut and her smile wide. “Teyvat’s brightest star has returned!” She declared herself with a turn on her heel – a dramatic flourish worthy of a retired archon. “You would not believe how well rehearsal went, there’s already a—”

Her eyes flickered op, and whatever she meant to tell you died on her tongue as her gaze fell onto Arlecchino. Immediately, you wrenched yourself out of Arlecchino’s arms, rushing towards Furina. “My lady, it’s not—"

“Save your excuses.” Her voice was low, her tone steely. Furina posed no threat to you, much less to her, but Arlecchino still had to temper the urge to step in front of you – if only out of some long buried, sickeningly knightly instinct. “I can see what’s going on.”

A beat passed in silence, then another. Ultimately, Arlecchino took it upon herself to break it. “…you can?”

“For exactly what it is.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, gasping sharply. “My greatest foe, here to use my closest confidant against me. I will not allow it! Whatever you plan to do with them – let me take their place. No matter what you plan to take – my mind, my soul, my body, I insist that you take it from me!”

Her rambling went on, but Arlecchino diverted her attention, sparing you a glance out of the corner of her eye. “She’s got a bit of a crush,” you whispered, smiling apologetically. “This is just how she behaves when she’s nervous.”

Arlecchino’s looked back to Furina. Upon closer examination, her cheeks were flushed, her movements erratic. As she described the torture she would go through for your sake in truly graphic and well-imagined detail, Arlecchino cleared her throat. “With as little respect as possible,” she cut in. “You’re not the one I’m here for, Furina.” She took up your hand, intertwining her fingers with your own and falling to one knee. You pursed your lips, but didn’t protest, content to let the gesture stand – if only for the sake of your mistress. “It’s your confidant who has my heart, despite how callous the hands I’ve entrusted it to may be.”

“But, my lady, my loyalty is with you.” For the first time, Arlecchino watched your expression wither. Your worry – not for your mistress’ safety, but purely for her happiness – would’ve been touching, if her selfishness hadn’t been the cause of your concern. “And… my love, as well. If you’d care to accept it.”

It was a pitiful confession, pale in comparison to even the meekest of hers, but it seemed to be enough. Furina took a moment to examine you, to evaluate Arlecchino where she kneeled. Slowly, she straightened herself, squaring her shoulders. “If that’s the case,” she began, finally, taking on an air that could be easily mistaken for dignified. “Then as the former sovereign of your nation and the mistress of this estate…”

She raised a hand, a near radiant grin painting itself across her lips as she encompassed you both in one sweeping gesture.

“I demand a threeway!”

#woman loving wednesday #on thursday #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x you #furina x reader #furina x you #furina x arlecchino #arlefuri #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x furina

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cafecitoygorditas · 2 months ago

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D.K. “Drift King”

Tokyo Drift

summary: after meeting D.K. at a race you decide to indulge into your urges

-not smut sorry to disappoint you dawgsss

a/n:let’s just pretend that dk owns Hans garage LMAOO, I was halfway though writing this by the time i realized and got to lazy to change it. IK ITS IN SOME CASINO ARCADE PLACE WHATEVER 😭

The Tokyo night hummed with energy—engines revving, neon lights bleeding into the dark like spilled paint, and the unmistakable scent of burnt rubber curling into the air.

You didn’t come to race. You just came to watch.Yet somehow, your eyes kept finding him.

The Drift King

He wasn’t doing anything special when you first saw him—just leaning against his black Nissan 350Z, arms crossed, talking with Morimoto and his little crew. He turned his head slightly when he noticed you watching, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, and it wasn’t long before he made his way over.

“You’re not from around here,” he said smoothly, his voice low and confident.

“Is it that easy to tell?” you asked, arching a bro

“Only a little.” He glanced back at the car lineup, then at you. “You here for someone, or what ?”

You shrugged. “I like the way the city looks at night.”

That made him smile—just a little. “Then you’re in the right place.”

Morimoto calls him back with urgency. D.K. turns around acknowledging him, then back at you

“See you around.”

—

Cars roared down the mountain pass, one after another. You stood with a borrowed drink in hand, watching the races. And every time you turned, he was there. Not too close. Watching you. The third time you caught him looking, he didn’t bother pretending. He just walked over again.

“You ever gone drifting?”

You smirked. “That a line?”

He chuckled. “Only if it’s working.”

You considered his subtle offer, the lights from the cars casting soft colors across his face. “Maybe. Later.”

“Later,” he echoed, like a promise.

—

The crowd had thinned. The mountain air was cooler now, wrapping around your shoulders as you leaned against the same 350Z you saw earlier. DK stood beside you, keys twirling around his finger. “It’s quieter now,” he said. “You’ll see the city better.”

You nodded. “Alright…. Show me.” You didn’t know what you expected, maybe reckless speed, maybe arrogant stunts, but the way he drove was something else. It was fluid, controlled chaos. Like dancing on the edge of destruction, but never falling in.

He glanced over at you in the passenger seat, his expression cockier than before.

When you reached the top, the city stretched below you like a blanket of stars.

“You don’t talk much,” you said quietly.

“I don’t need to,” he replied. “Not when I know what I want.”

You met his gaze then, more serious now. “And what’s that?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just leaned closer, not quite touching you.“I think you know.”

Your voice was almost a whisper. “Maybe.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Then maybe you’ll come back tomorrow night.” He looked at you in anticipation, “Pass by my shop, we can talk more.” He said with a coy smile.

You looked back at the glittering city, then at him.

“Maybe I will.”

—

The next night, you were back. You told yourself it was just curiosity. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the look in his eyes

Han was the one who saw you first when you stepped into the garage.

He raised an eyebrow. “Either you’re lost, or Takashis already gotten under your skin.”

“Maybe I like the cars,” you said coolly knowing you were lying through your teeth.

He laughed. “No one comes here for the cars, not really.” He opened his arms in invitation, “Come! Sit down, have a beer.” he sat back down on the couch with a crowd of women surrounding him. “Mi casa es a su casa!.” He stated barely managing to get the words out.

The girls were lounging around, dressed for the heat, tossing glances your way that weren’t exactly friendly. All of them trying to get Hans attention.

You looked around the shop as you slowly made your way up the stairs towards them. There were hydraulic lifts and dozens of car parts, waiting to find their perfect match. Cars in different stages of repair, with colorful modifications. A garage men would envy.

You spent your time conversating with Han and the girls. Not all of them were bad. Until you heard the sound of a garage door opening and the engine of a certain car.

D.K. pulledinto the garage. Your eyes meeting through the windshield. A slight look of surprise washing over his face.

D.K. got out of the car slamming his door shut and made his way towards you. He gave Han a quick glance, in acknowledgment.

“You came,” he said, voice low.

You shrugged. “You made a decent case.”

He stepped closer, and this time, his fingers brushed your wrist. Light at first, then a little firmer—testing your boundaries.

You didn’t pull away.

“Come with me,” he said.

You stood up, feeling the stares of everyone as you followed him closely.

“USE PROTECTION!” exclaimed Han as you both walked into the hallway, hearing his laugh fade as it closed. You could only imagine his face. You slowly shook your head in embarrassment.

D.K. walked you through a maze of small hallways away from the garage, past the shimmer of vending machines and roooms filled with parties. The hum of the music faded behind you, replaced by a low, private kind of silence.

The door at the end of the hallways was cracked open. Warm light spilled out, along with low music and the faint scent of leather and motor oil.

His expression was unreadable, but the glint in his eyes told you he’d been waiting.

“You look good,” he murmured.

You tilted your head, letting him in just a little closer. “You say that to every girl who shows up twice?”

“No,” he said, stepping into your space, his palm resting on your hip. “Just the ones I want to see again.”

Morimoto walked into the office unannounced , his face tight. He said something sharp in Japanese. DK’s expression shifted. Cold. Calculating. And that’s when it clicked. The low whispers and rumors of what D.K. was in involved with were true.

Yakuza.

You watched DK speak with him, voice low, clipped. Her handed D.K. an envelope, he opened, it was filled with cash. However they got it, it wasn’t friendly.

You didn’t speak. You just watched as Morimoto left the room after their exchange. “You’re involved in some heavy shit” you said finally.

He turned, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t come here for a safe ride.”

Confirming your suspicions.

He stepped toward you again, slower this time. Watching for your reaction.

“No,” you admitted. “I didn’t.”

He didn’t flinch. “That’s part of who I am.”

You turned to look at him. “And you’re proud of it.”

I’m good with what gets me ahead. What about you?” His voice dropped a little, eyes locked on yours. “You here looking for a fairytale?”His hand slid to your thigh. His fingers curled a little tighter.

“I built this,” he said, voice low. “Everything I have, everything I run. No apologies.”

You didn’t say anything. Because you didn’t hate it. That was the worst part.

You should’ve been scared. But instead, your pulse quickened, and you leaned in closer. “I’m just here for a good time,” you said.

He looked at you, eyes dark. “I don’t want forever.”

One moment you were breathing in the heat between you, the next his hands were on your hips, your back was pressed against the desk. He kissed you like he’d been holding it back all day—like he had something to prove. Your hands tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, letting the heat swallow you whole.

It wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t sweet, either. It was the kiss of two people who didn’t owe each other anything. Hungry, electric. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you let him.

When you finally broke apart, you didn’t move far. He rested his forehead against yours. You didn’t care who he was. Not tonight.

His thumb traced a lazy line over your lower lip “You should stay,” he murmured.

You looked at him. “For how long?”

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Until the thrill runs out.”

You smiled back. “Then you better keep it interesting.”

#tokyo drift #han lue x reader #takashi x reader #D.K. Tokyo Drift #x reader #fast and furious x reader #2 fast 2 furious #fast and furious #brian o'conner #sean boswell #neela #d.k. x reader

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snakeunderyourboot · 5 months ago

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back when s5 started I had a WILD theory how everything was about to go, but with new information, relistening to s1-2 and me pondering about it in my free time - this is a Canon Divergent AU now, BUT LISTEN

RACE TO THE BLACKSTONE AGAINST OTHER VARIANTS OF ARTHUR

So my idea was, is that there is only one Blackstone in the whole multiverse and it constantly jumps between the universes. There are hints and mentions about it in all universes, but it exists physically in only one. To make it even worse, it stays in one place and in one time period and only for some time frame, before jumping into the next universe with a new place, time period, and time frame. Kayne was, along with killing his other versions, trying to track down where exactly Blackstone was going to end up and for how long. Unfortunately for him, not only it was escaping him, but he couldn't look at it, like he couldn't perceive Blackstone at all. The only reason he managed to find it and pinpoint was because he started looking at it's absence, rather than it's presence.

And Kayne being Kayne decides the spice thing up

Kayne throws our Arthur (and John) into the timeline where Blackstone exists (still Medieval England, in 1300) and gives him the quest to find it. BUT THEN, he throws other Arthurs and gives them the same objective. Basically, he makes a treasure hunt including 4-5 different versions of Arthurs, who are the best of the best. The one who gets him the Blackstone will get what he asked.

So, I was thinking apart from our Arthur (Canon Arthur next) there are Darkthur, Darkthur Without Right Hand, Anna Stanczyk and maybe another variant of Arthur, which was similar to Canon Arthur, but there was something different about him(sense of wrongness you know) (I am not sure about him now, but I still kind of like him)

So, now Arthurs would need to try and find Blackstone. Either helping each other or fighting each other. I was thinking that to differentiate one another they would give themselves the names of their favourite poets. I was also thinking about Anna actually being Faroe from Faroeverse but hiding her identity from other versions of her father.

I was also thinking about giving different names to Johns. Maybe Darkthur variant of John doesn't have a name, Darkthur Without Right Hand's variant of John is actually named Hastur (I was thinking this different version of Darkthur is John accepting his identity as the King). Slightly Different Arthur's John named Parker or Peter. Of course Jane for Anna/Faroe's variant

And now it is a grand adventure of weird versions of you trying to reach for an object of immense power. I wasn't sure how exactly everything would play out (Darkthur definitely wouldn't operate with others, Darkthur Without Right Hand would want to but couldn't do so because of Hastur, Anna/Faroe avoiding all Arthur Variants, and Slightly Different Arthur being the only one who cooperates with Canon Arthur). There could be mysteries about how exactly all variants' timelines are different, the grand revelation that Anna is Faroe, who will betray who to reach the Blackstone or will they try to work together, and whats the deal with Slightly Different Arthur. And the finale of who will get the Blackstone

Rereading this, and this is a WILD au, someone please write a fic about it

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lvest · 7 months ago

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Omg I love your William headcanon! Idk if you accept requests, but i would love to see you write a fic either on Albert or Von Herder

Lots of love,

Anon.

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ Albert James Moriarty x reader.

|| Thank you for requesting!! I'm genuinely happy that you all enjoy my writing, and thank you for requesting anon!! I hope I don't mischaracterize him. Gn!reader and enjoy!

|| TW : None!! (ˊᗜˋ )

The sounds of birds chirping can be heard outside the window as the sunlight shines through the small gap between the curtains, making [name] turned in their sleep.

Albert felt his heart flutter at the sight of his beloved looking so peaceful during their slumber. Albert found his fingers moving on their own as if it has a mind of it's own as they gently, hold a strand of [name]'s hair, twirling it between his index finger; it felt so soft against it, he could smell the sweet scent of shampoo [name] usually used.

He couldn't help but crack a smile at the sight of his beloved, his fingers moving to reached their cheek as he caresses them, feeling the soft skin. He could see [name]'s lashes flutter as he watched them flutter their eyes open, seeing a small scowl on their face, making Albert chuckle underneath his breath as [name] eyes then met his, turning the scowl into a smile.

Oh how Albert felt his heart skips a beat at the sight of that sweet smile, a small "Good morning." left his lips as he held their cheek with one hand. "Mhm, morning Al, have you been watching me sleep?" [name] replied with a teasing tone, even when they just woke up they're already teasing him, resulting in him crackling a small chuckle.

He took a moment to recall how he remembered [name] being so adventurous whenever he and [name] finished their mission a little earlier, he recalled their memories together; [name] calling Albert's name with those cheerful tone he cherishe and adore utterly, seeing [name] smile while playing with stray cats or dogs whenever [name] managed to found one. He would wonder how one's soul could be so adventurous as if [name] isn't afraid of anything. How [name] managed to make Albert crack a smile whenever he's feeling stressed and pressured he could always come to [name] and he'll always find a reason to smile.

[name] truly means a lot to him, how [name] always there for him, anyone knows how smitten he is for his beloved, even Heavens above would agree. How his heart races everytime he sees [name] even if it's only a glimpse of them, would he trade [name]? No. Never in million years, decades, centuries.

Does "fate" agrees?

Unfortunately, no.

Albert fluttered his eyes open, seeing the other side of the bed empty; leaving a melancholia atmosphere even when the sunlight shines through the window, it still couldn't help make the void in his heart disappear. He couldn't help but let a single tear rolled down his cheek, seeing the empty side.. He misses [name]'s presence... a lot.

How cruel of it, to take away his only joy, his other half, his significant other.. He took away [name] out of all things. Albert would rather "fate" took away his wealth, his strength, his life.. not his beloved, his dear [name]. Even after their death he couldn't forget them, no, how could he? Everything reminds him of [name]. Even small things like books, tea, flowers..

He remembered the time where they would spend their free time snuggling against one another with a cup of hot freshly brewed tea, how [name] would gently caressed his hair while muttering about the book they've read.

Albert misses their voice, that sweet tone, how gentle it sounded to his ears, how it sounded like a sweet melody that'll captived him anytime, and yet, he couldn't hear it again. Never. Even if he begs to Heavens above; to God to bring back his beloved, his significant other it wouldn't change a thing.

[name]'s gone, and Albert couldn't let go.

|| I look forward to what you guys think about this, I'm sorry if i make any mistakes in spelling, grammar, etc, English isn't my first language. I tried my best though!! I'm sorry if i mischaracterize him, but i think this is how he'll act ( ｡– ‸ –｡). I'll make more soon, feel free to request!!

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #moriarty the patriot x reader #moriarty the patriot #albert james moriarty #albert james moriarty x reader #x reader #Ellune's letters #anon ask #reqs open #mtp albert

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1k1ga1 · 2 years ago

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Hello hope you are doing well, I am not quite sure if you are taking requests but if you are could you please write Yandere Deon hart i'm not that kind of talent

❝ 𝓣𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 , 𝓐𝐓 𝓢𝐊𝐘𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 . . . ❞

━━ 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐖𝐀 💭 𝐈’𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓

━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 💭 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗 𝐆𝐍 ! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

━━ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 💭 18+ , 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 , 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 , 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 , 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐑

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 never had the time to truly give the idea of a romantic relationship any thought. he’s a busy man, having grew up in a disorganized family and forced into the army at a young age, all that he had ever known was the cruelty of others and the rustic scent of blood. even when he crawled his way into the hero’s group, there was only ever more bloodshed and sacrifices. he’s only ever been exposed to war, not the affection which one shares with their lover.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 honestly expected his life to stay that way. what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, and having never experienced the gentleness of a lover, he never cared much to yearn for one. he already has his hands full enough with playing spy for both the lunatic emperor and the clingy demon king, all whilst trying to survive. it’s not like he’d ever have time to fall in love with anyone, right? well, that’s what he thought, until you came along.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 singled you out from the rest of his subordinates immediately. you had been assigned as his assistant. you, a demon that could easily overpower a weak human like him. you, a demon that was supposed to be bloodthirsty and cruel. and yet despite being a demon, he’s never met anyone as perfectly human as you.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 thinks you’re more human than demon when you smile at him so sweetly, exchanging kind gestures every now and then as an appreciation to your commander. you’re always going out of your way to take care of those around you, always smiling and complimenting and humming with that ridiculously melodious voice, the same voice that would call out his name so excitedly. you were never like the other demons who were constantly seeking to test their powers against him or were blindly subservient to him, although you didn’t quite see him as an equal either. you simply saw him as someone who “works hard and has a respectable work ethic. someone admirable.”

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 fell hopelessly in love with you right then and there, a metaphorical pink cupid’s arrow shooting through his heart at just how absolutely precious you are. it truly baffles the commander just how you could manage to be so wholesome despite hailing of the demon race.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 finds himself quietly pining for you after that moment. he’s not very experienced with the concept of crushing on someone or falling in love, therefore he’s absolutely clueless on what to do with his feelings or how to act on it. he doesn’t know what course of action he should take, and it’s not as if he could just ask one of the demons for advice. he’s left completely in the dark, yet there was still an instinctual human need to be closer to the object of his affection, and so the commander finds himself loitering around where he would usually spot you, hoping to catch a glimpse of your sparkling smile within the nest of havoc.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 is satisfied with just catching glimpses of you for a while. it’s enough for him that he could see your smile almost everyday, that is until you pick up on his regular appearances around the places you often visit and instead of calling him out on it or attempting to murder him, you instead invited him to chat with you.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 slowly but surely grew on you, and your little chats with your commander here and there gradually grew into longer conversations with topics focusing more on yourselves than the fleeting events around you. on some days, you even find yourself loitering in your commander’s room late into the night to continue whatever deep conversation the two of you were having. occasionally, you’d fall asleep and spend your night in his room, and deon never had the heart to disturb you, so he just let you be. although more often than not, the moment you’re asleep, deon finds himself quietly admiring you. he doesn’t do anything more than that at first, merely noting the way you breath and the murmurs you would say sleepily. it was honestly just heartwarming to him.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 considers you his close friend after all that time the two of you spent conversing and learning more about each other. you’re his friend, so he wants you to stay closer to him and spend more time with him. you’re his friend, so he wants you to move your room closer to his’. you’re his friend, so he wants you to always stay by his side every minute of the day. you’re his friend, so it’s fine if he gets a little possessive, right?

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 is an over thinker. who could blame him after all the horror he’s had to witness in his youth? he’s always been surrounded by people with ill intentions, those seeking to use him and those seeking to ruin him, yet in the midst of the chaos, there was you; a shining beacon of benevolence, practically heaven-sent with your generosity and beaming smile. yes, that’s right, you really must be an angel. an angel sent just for him, your touch just for him, your voice just for him, your smile just for him — it’s not as though anyone else in this world could be deserving of you.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 develops some odd habits after that realization. sure, he might’ve grown closer to you, but he never found the chance to express his feelings, and they’ve only grown deeper after the two of you became friends. his heart is untamed and clumsy, like a toddler handed destructive power when it barely knew how to walk. he doesn’t see the wrong in manipulating you to constantly stay by his side because “his body is still weak from the battle with the hero.” you’re his angelic friend, so there’s no way you could leave him be when he’s unhealthy, right? you’re always so generous too, so you won’t mind if he snag some trinkets from your room for safe keeping either, right?

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 develops these habits unconsciously, half the time not even realizing what he’s doing before it’s already done. perhaps it’s a true testament to how deep his feelings run for you to the point that he doesn’t even realize that he’s acting on it.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 is still inexperienced, but if by chance he somehow confesses to you about his true feelings, and if you were to accept, than expect his behavior to grow tenfold. deon will get more protective of you. he completely disregards wether you can protect yourself or not, it’s better if he is the one to protect you. oh, and those demon friends of yours, it’s better if you distance yourself from them too, they’re no good influences on your mind. if you don’t listen to his advice the first time, deon has no qualms using his title as the commander to seal those demons manipulating you behind a cell.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 usually doesn’t act on a whim with violent tendencies, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty if it’s for his beloved’s benefit. you’ve become the center of his world the moment you accepted his affection, so there’s no way he’d allow anything or anyone to ever lay a hand on you with ill intent.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 is exceptionally needy. he’s constantly clinging to you, seeking for affection like a touch-starved puppy. it’s almost as if he’s seeking out the affection that he couldn’t receive during his childhood, and just who are you to reject his advances when he sadly tells you the story of his past? deon has no problems guilt-tripping you into accepting his affectionate hold, and you’re just too kind for your own good.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 believes you can do no wrong. it’s not as if you’re a troublemaker like the other demons he’s been forced to meet in the first place, but deon’s so convinced that you must be some perfect saint that he practically worships you. in his eyes, you can do no wrong, but anyone who does you wrong can expect to have a glinting blade swiping at their neck when they least expect it. whatever you say or do is law, and deon will be the faithful servant who carries out your will.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐓, his other personality that was crafted upon his insatiable bloodlust and ruthlessness, needs some time to adjust to your presence, however he’s more or less the same as the usual deon when he’s not faced with an enemy. demon arut is definitely more protective and controlling of you, always making you the first priority whenever a battle arises. he needs to keep you in his range of sight or else the he goes absolutely mad trying to find you, destroying anything that hinders his path.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐓 is more sadistic than your usual commander. unlike deon who cares about your image of him and therefore has placed some restraints on himself, demon arut has no such concerns. he openly likes to tease you, almost going overboard with it because he likes getting any kind of reaction from you. he won’t intentionally be malicious towards you, he still loves you after all. however, if you receive a few cuts and bruises from battle or the likes, he will mock your competence and press on a few bruises, only after he’s made a bloody mess of the perpetrator who dared to touch an inch of your body.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐓 will insist that you train with him so you can polish your skills. as a demon, you’re not lacking by any means, probably even better than the strength of five soldiers combined, however that doesn’t mean that you stand a chance against him. demon arut has beaten entire armies by his lonesome, so don’t be too disappointed when you fail for the nth time. he won’t praise you often, however, he will go easier on you compared to his unrelenting nature on the battlefield. although, it’s not as if you would ever need to put these skills to use and lift even a finger, he’ll always have you as his first priority to protect and get to safety.

━━ ✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐓 is, like his name suggests, a demon. a demon who’s cruel and bloodthirsty and a hundred times more possessive and easily jealous. he won’t hesitate to make an example out of one of your comrades by gutting them in front of you if you get to chummy with them. well, he won’t hesitate to make an example out of anyone really, even his fellow commanders as long as he gets it through that cute head of your’s what lengths you’re capable of pushing him to.

━━ ✧ 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍, you’re basically holding onto the reins of a catastrophe that could take empires by storm, just be careful not to take your eyes off him for too long or that storm might just ruin you… although, it’s not as if he’d particularly care for your opinion on this matter. the two of you are lovers now, so it’s only right that you never part. even if the sky falls and the world is coming to and end, even in life and in death, the two of you will always be together, deon hart will make sure of it.

#manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere x reader #im not that kind of talent #intkot #—ichigo 💭#deon hart #demon arut #yandere imagines #male yandere #intkot x reader #im not that kind of talent x reader #yandere im not that kind of talent #webtoon #_𝟏𝐊𝟏𝐆𝐀𝟏_

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