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sunder-soul · 4 years ago

Note

okay but like... tom (if he was like actually able to love and have emotions) dating the biggest ball of fluff and sunshine who’s literally known as the only nice slytherin,,,, they’re like really clingy and are always clinging onto him and he tries to get annoyed but they’re just so cute that he stands there like 😐 not even bothering to push them off. and omg when he’s being all dark and stuff like “i will kill your friends and family if you leave me” they assume he’s joking and respond with stuff like “i would never leave you silly”... stop i’m crying😭😭

I took some creative liberties with this so it ended up a lil different, but I kept the core essentials of your prompt 💖 Thanks for this!!

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Dangerous

Summary: Ball-of-sunshine Slytherin Reader encounters a hint of Tom’s dark side for the first time, but it doesn’t necessarily go how Tom expects.

Wordcount: 1.3k

Content warning: none

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

He doesn’t even hear you before it’s too late. You collide into him full-force outside the Great Hall, nearly knocking him back a step with the pure velocity of the hug.

“Hey!” you beam. “How was Potions?”

“It was fine,” Tom says mechanically, even-faced as he gently leans forward and sets you back on the ground – though neither of you step away, and your arms are left around his neck as you grin up at him.

“Fine, huh,” you laugh, “geez, don’t blow me away with all the details, Tom.”

Tom visibly hesitates, frowning slightly as he looks down at you, but right as he opens his mouth to say something another voice rings out.

“Can’t you take a hint?” scoffs Lestrange. “Get off him and go be a disgrace to Slytherin someplace else.”

“Disgrace to Slytherin?” you echo in amusement as you look over at the motley gang of boys always following Tom around. “I’ll have you know that last term Professor Beery told me that I was a delight to have in class.”

“Beery’s an idiot, and you’re not welcome here,” Avery snaps.

“Just because the only time you’re a delight to have in class is on your way out, Avery,” you say teasingly, before looking back at Tom and sliding your hands down to his shoulders. “Hey, I gotta go, I promised Rutherford that I’d help him with the Astronomy assignment before dinner –”

“Rutherford? You’re wasting your time with that idiot?” Black snorts.

“ – but I’ll see you later,” you grin, ignoring Black’s comment entirely as you step back from Tom, “make sure you actually eat something at dinner, Riddle, hugging you just about gives me a paper cut!”

You’re gone before any of them can say another word, your robes billowing wildly behind you as you dash away.

“Why do you put up with that, Riddle?” Lestrange mutters, shaking his head. “It’s embarrassing.”

Tom wrenches his eyes off of your retreating form and steps through the doors into the Great Hall. “It’s harmless,” he says blankly.

The boys shoot each other curious looks but they follow him in silence – they know all too well the consequences of disagreeing with Tom Riddle.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Why are you making me do this?” Tom says flatly, looking around the common room disinterestedly.

You carefully slide the parchment under the glass that Tom was holding, trying to not accidentally sandwich the spider’s legs. “Hold still,” you say seriously, “I’ve nearly got it.”

The spider had crawled across the huge circular study table in the corner of the Slytherin common room about five minutes prior and had made Matilda Greengrass shriek at the top of her lungs.

“I thought you were afraid of spiders,” Tom mutters.

You smile absently, attention captivated by carefully lifting both the glass and the parchment. “I am.”

“Then why aren’t you just killing it?” he asks with a curt wave of his hand.

“Don’t be silly,” you laugh, turning to the stairs. “Now are you coming or not?”

“Where are you going?” Tom demands, but it’s no use – you’re already halfway up the stairs. He grits his teeth, but a second later he follows after you.

“We’ve got to put it outside, don’t we?” you say brightly when he catches up to you.

“You’re breaking curfew to put a spider outside?” he asks, exasperated.

“I’ve got a prefect with me, I’ll be fine,” you say with a wink.

Tom looks away, his expression stony, but he still follows you down the dungeon corridor. “That’s why you asked me to help you?” he asks flatly. “An alibi to avoid detention?”

“More like an alibi for your company,” you grin.

Tom looks back at you impassively, and he doesn’t speak another word until you’re returning to the common room with an empty, spider-less glass. “You should be more careful whose company you seek,” he says evenly.

“Should I?” you smile, glancing at him. “Are you talking about yourself?”

“Everyone knows you only see the good parts of people,” Tom says smoothly, his fingers lacing behind his back as he takes long, even strides beside you, “but it could be very dangerous to ignore the rest.”

“You think I’m ignoring the dangerous parts of you?” you laugh.

Tom looks at you, expression impenetrable. “Does that amuse you?” he asks softly. “I could be anything, after all.”

“Are you going to try to convince me that you’re a secret mass murderer?” you say teasingly.

Tom laughs, much too coldly. “Perhaps not a mass murderer,” he says contemplatively, looking around the corridor with detached interest. “But perhaps I’ve done other things you’d find… abhorrent.”

You draw to a halt and catch his arm, making him stop, too. “You’re being serious,” you say in realisation, frowning.

Tom doesn’t say anything, he only looks down at you with cool, impassive eyes like he was considering his options. Suddenly the dungeon corridor seems too big and too empty, the air colder and darker than moments before.

“Are you dangerous, Tom?” you ask, barely above whisper.

“What would you do if I was?” he replies softly, his head tilting slightly as he turns to you.

Your stomach twists but you try to ignore it. “I’m not sure,” you say slowly. “That might depend on how you’re dangerous.”

Tom’s lips curve into a small smirk and he takes a single step towards you that makes your pulse triple. “Would you really like to know?” he murmurs, lifting a hand and – so gently that your skin erupts into goosebumps – trailing his fingers down your cheek. “Should I tell you what I’m capable of? Would you still want my company afterwards?”

“Are you trying to scare me?” you whisper, swallowing the trembling feeling in your chest.

“Are you scared?” Tom breathes as he steps towards you again, pushing you backwards. Your back hits the wall and you stare up at him, eyes wide. You swallow hard as Tom’s fingers delicately take hold of your jaw and tilt your face up to his, trying to stop your knees from shaking.

“Is that why Lestrange and the others follow you around even though you obviously don’t even like them?” you ask with the faintest tremor in your voice. “Are they afraid of you?”

Tom’s smirk grows and his fingers trail the curve of your jaw and down on your neck, leaving shivers in their wake. “Observant, aren’t you?” he whispers, watching his fingertips brush your skin with interest. “A true Slytherin after all...”

“It would be easier, wouldn’t it?” you manage to say.

Tom’s fingers grow still against your skin, a minute crease appearing between his brows as his eyes dart up to yours. “Easier?” he repeats sharply.

“If I were scared of you,” you whisper, “that way I’d leave you alone.”

His dark eyes flick between yours like he hadn’t been expecting your response.

“Maybe you’re the one who’s scared,” you breathe.

Tom laughs again, a single derisive scoff as he lifts his jaw and looks down at you. “And what about you should frighten me?” he asks contemptuously.

“Maybe you’re scared that I actually like you,” you say quietly, “and maybe it scares you that you like being liked.”

Tom’s eyes widen and his hand drops from your neck like you’ve burned him as he steps back quickly. “It’s late,” he says harshly, looking away down the corridor. “You should get to your dorm.”

You frown. “What about you?”

“I have patrols,” he says curtly, turning on his heel and leaving without another word. You watch him go for a moment and then turn back to the Slytherin common room, your heart still beating fast.

The feeling of Tom’s fingers trailing feather-light across your skin haunts you until you finally fall asleep.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

To request sequels/being tagged in follow-ups, leave a reply in the notes! 💖

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #slytherin reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle imagines #prompt #dark tom #minific #established relationship #anon #dangerous #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #gn reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

I'd like to see more of the Jiang Cheng has spider venom fic. Mostly because I want to see him bite someone else. How about a Jin?

Normal For the Spider - Extra: 5 People Jiang Cheng Bit, Some of Whom Deserved It

ao3

1 – Wei Wuxian

“So I’ve been exchanging letters with shijie on account of the whole theoretically banished business,” Wei Wuxian said as they strolled down the Qiongqi Path together, Wen Ning behind them making shy stuttering friends with the handful of Jiang sect disciples Jiang Cheng had brought along with him – he’d deliberately picked the friendliest and most social of the lot, the ones that acted like overgrown puppies and wanted to adopt everyone they met, and sure enough they’d mobbed Wen Ning like a bunch of crows intent on raising the poor little sparrow they found into a proper bird. It was no more than Wen Ning deserved, in Jiang Cheng’s opinion. Someone needed to socialize him, and clearly neither his sister nor Wei Wuxian were doing crap about it.

“That’s nice,” Jiang Cheng said. “If by nice you mean extremely suspicious. What about in particular?”

“Your family inheritance.”

“Is this about the summer house we have near that mountain lake? I told you, it’s been deserted for years and may possibly be haunted by something resistant to the usual liberation techniques, but if you really want to go there, you’re of course allowed…”

“That’s not the inheritance I meant and you know it.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. He did know it. “What questions do you have now?” he asked. “More medical stuff from Wen Qing?”

She’d recovered from the venom very well and immediately started wanting to know everything. Recovered a little too well, in Jiang Cheng’s opinion.

“No, this one’s for me,” Wei Wuxian said. “We’re going to Lanling City in order to let Jin Ling bite me as a way to establish familial ties and let him ‘absorb’ good aspects from my personality, right?”

Jiang Cheng nodded.

“So in some cases, biting is an act of affection?”

Jiang Cheng nodded, a little more warily.

“Then how come you’ve never bitten me?”

“It’s only affectionate when you’re a baby,” Jiang Cheng said. “Once you grow into your childhood venom, it starts being dangerous, even to family; you don’t do affection-bites after that point. And when you’re an adult…well, you saw Wen Qing!”

“Eh, she’s fine now,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully. “I feel like I missed out! It’s not fair, Jiang Cheng. I deserve a bite! I’m practically your brother! We share essential bodily organs!”

“Wei Wuxian! Don’t talk about that!”

“Bite me and I’ll stop.”

“I’m not biting you just to make you stop being annoying –”

2 – Jin Zixun

“What are you doing here?!” Jiang Cheng demanded. “This is an ambush! Is the Jin sect considering waging an act of war against the Jiang sect?”

Jin Zixun scowled at him. “Not against the Jiang sect,” he said haughtily. “Against the Yiling Patriarch.”

“He’s my head disciple!”

That got a confused sort of frown. “But you banished him…?”

“Rumor,” Jiang Cheng said, with dignity, the way they’d always planned. “Baseless rumor, that’s all.”

Rumor he’d never denied, and had instead implicitly encouraged so that people would leave his Jiang sect alone for a little while as he gathered up strength and resources to tell them to fuck off.

“But…” Jin Zixun hesitated. “You just – attacked him?”

Jiang Cheng glared at Wei Wuxian, still lying prone on the ground with his head in Wen Ning’s lap to elevate it and his neck bandaged but still a little red – surely the paralytic had worn off by now?

Wei Wuxian noticed him staring and gave a jaunty little wave, grinning and very clearly regretting nothing, which meant that the paralytic had worn off and he was just lying there to be comfortable while watching the fun.

Typical.

“A friendly exchange,” he said, trying to maintain his dignity. “Also? Not the Jin sect’s business. What about you? What did you want with him?”

“I want him to remove the curse he cast on me,” Jin Zixun said, and he strode forward before Jiang Cheng could stop him and kicked Wei Wuxian in the side. “You hear me, you bastard?! I want the damn thing gone this instant or else –”

3 – Wen Ning

“So this is going to be a little awkward to explain,” Jin Zixuan said, rubbing his face. He looked tired, but that was possibly a side-effect of having Jin Zixun as a cousin. “Tell me, why are my cousin’s flunkies – er, I mean, my cousin’s friends convinced that it was Wen Ning that poisoned him?”

Jiang Cheng scowled.

“No offense meant,” Jin Zixuan added, nodding politely to Wen Ning. “It’s just, you know, you’re very much not a Yu, or even a Jiang.”

“No offense taken,” Wen Ning mumbled, though to Jiang Cheng’s eyes he looked a little pleased, even if his stiff wooden face still didn’t do emotions all that well. “It’s nice not to be automatically feared.”

“It’s because Wen Ning punched Jin Zixun in the face at the same moment that I bit him,” Jiang Cheng interjected, because someone needed to answer the actual question. “And then Jin Zixun fell over and someone started shouting about corpse poison – even though he’s obviously turned purple! Purple venom, purple spider, purple lightning…what part of this thematic color scheme is not obvious?!”

“Technically, the livor mortis spots generated by corpse poison are also purple,” Wei Wuxian said, completely unhelpfully. “According to Wen Qing, it’s the lack of oxygen in the blood pooling under the skin or something, which is the same thing your mom’s poison does.”

“Do you think you’re helping?” Jiang Cheng demanded.

“No, not at all. Did I sound like I was helping? I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m going to bite you again, you little…”

“My father isn’t going to want to let Wen Ning through the door if he’s considered a possible threat,” Jin Zixuan said, wisely deciding to carry on with the conversation despite their bickering. “You know he’s been saying all those things about how dangerous the Yiling Patriarch is – this’ll just feed into that.”

“I’m not going to Lanling City without Wen Ning!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “Wen Qing made me promise! It’s his first time visiting such a big place, too!”

“I’m pretty sure Wen Qing made you promise not to leave him behind because she was worried about your well-being, not Wen Ning’s ability to be a tourist,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Doesn’t matter! I’m not leaving him, and I’m definitely not going to not attend the party, so you have to fix this!”

“I don’t know how to fix this –”

Wen Ning coughed lightly. “Uh,” he said. “Jin-gongzi…would your father let me in if I wasn’t a threat? Say, if I was unconscious?”

A moment of silence.

“…does venom work even on fierce corpses?”

“Of course it does,” Jiang Cheng said irritably. “It wouldn’t be much of a defense mechanism for a cultivator if it didn’t.”

4 – Jin Guangshan

“I didn’t mean to!” Jiang Cheng said, his hands over his mouth. “I really didn’t mean to! It’s Wei Wuxian’s fault!”

“How is this my fault?!” Wei Wuxian asked. He looked amused, which was never a good sign, and even less so given the extreme crisis of the situation. “I wasn’t even in the room.”

“You encouraged me to keep biting people as a solution to everything!” Jiang Cheng hissed. “It got me in the mood. I wasn’t thinking!”

He looked down at the unconscious (and swiftly purpling) Jin Guangshan and grimaced. There was no convenient Wen Ning to put the blame on this time: it had been just the two of them, Jin Guangshan and Jiang Cheng, alone in a room together. Jin Guangshan had wanted to have words with him, sect leader to sect leader, which mostly meant that he wanted to throw his weight and seniority around to try to brow-beat Jiang Cheng into doing what he wanted, except that wasn’t going to work because Jiang Cheng was prepared, okay, he’d worked so long and so hard to try to build up the Jiang sect until it could resist Jin sect pressure.

And he’d probably just ruined everything.

“He has legitimate grounds to declare war against us now,” Jiang Cheng said miserably. “Or maybe to demand that we hand over that stupid Tiger Seal he keeps bugging you about as reparations, or in order to keep him from declaring war…”

“We can’t let him have it,” Wei Wuxian said at once. “It’s far too dangerous. I’d destroy it, first.”

“But then he’d still have a reason to strike against us…”

There was the soft sound of someone clearing their throat, and at first Jiang Cheng thought it was Wen Ning but when he looked up it was Jin Guangyao, instead. He looked the same as always, gentle and personable and smiling, which struck Jiang Cheng as being unaccountably weird for some reason that he couldn’t figure out until he remembered that the man’s father was currently lying on the ground being poisoned and maybe Jin Guangyao shouldn’t be smiling so much.

“If you don’t mind,” Jin Guangyao said, “I might have a suggestion that would get rid of that problem…”

5 – Wen Qing

“…and long story short, Jin Guangyao is going to run Lanling Jin until Jin Zixuan is done having kids, which may be never based on the soppy looks he and my shijie keep exchanging, and we all have the Jin sect’s blessing to move back into the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian concluded. “All’s well that ends well, right, Jiang Cheng?”

Jiang Cheng crossed his arms and glared, admitting nothing.

“I’ll be happy to move anywhere that has decent food,” Wen Qing remarked. “This damn place won’t even grow radishes properly, and it’s Yiling; the radishes should be practically growing themselves.”

“I’ve arranged for some farmland for your people,” Jiang Cheng said, because practicalities he could do. “There’s still lots left over from before the war, lying fallow, and some of the places are medicinal herb fields – we need people with cultivation to tend to those, so I figured that might work for you. You’d have half regular farmland, to make sure you can grow whatever food you feel you need to be comfortable, and the other half, the herbs, can be sold to the Jiang sect at profit.”

“That sounds good,” Wen Qing said.

“Especially since they’re medicinal herb plants,” Wei Wuxian chimed in. “You could stock up on medicines you need!”

“A lot of medicines have to be obtained through trade, you utter nincompoop! I can’t make medicine just using what a single medicinal herb field will generate!”

Jiang Cheng nodded approvingly, thinking to himself that at least there was someone else in the world who understood exactly how aggravating it was to have to deal with Wei Wuxian’s unbridled and illogical optimism on a regular basis.

“And as for you,” Wen Qing said, turning to Jiang Cheng, who blinked owlishly at her. “Don’t think I missed the part of that story about how biting people is a sign of affection!”

“It’s – what?! No, you don’t – that’s when we’re children– it’s –”

Wei Wuxian started cackling.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #wen ning #jin zixun #jin zixuan #jin guangyao #wen qing #my fic #my fics #normal for the spider

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make-me-imagine · 3 years ago

Text

Late Night Admissions

Prompts: 'As you begin to fall asleep, you feel a gentle kiss pressed to your temple and a blanket draped over you' + 'Fingertips brushing hair from your face' and 'Body warmth as someone holds you against them' Requested by: @twisted-monster

Pairing: Loki x Gen!Neutral Reader

Triggers: None

Words: I wanted to make this longer, but I was only able to get it to 1.9k

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000 Marvel Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovyfluxie, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy

*An alternate timeline in which Loki survived Thanos and ended up helping the Avengers defeat him, because why not.

**Little angst, mostly fluff

Part of you hated how your entire being reacted when you so much as heard his name. Heart beat increased to an annoying rate, your hands get sweaty, and you feel a jolt of excitement rocket through your body as butterflies rampage in your stomach.

The other part of you was glad for it. Because it proved to you that the way you felt about him, that the way he made you feel, was real. Whether it was for him or not, still haunted your thoughts.

You wiped your sweaty hands on your pants as you looked around the room, hoping that no one noticed your sudden change in demeanor at the mention of the mischievous God. He and Thor were coming for a visit. It had been just over two weeks since you last saw Loki. His last visit was only known to you, and only for you.

Ever since Loki had helped to fight Thanos with the rest of you, he was now welcome on Earth. Many of the Avengers were cautious around him, just in case he resorted back to wanting to take over Earth. You had been cautious at first as well. But at some point, you and Loki had developed a friendship, which then developed into more. And for the last couple of months, you secretly had been "together". You tried not to think of it as a relationship, because sometimes you doubted how he really felt about you.

Loki was the one who acted secretive around you, as though he wanted no one to know you had something between you. At first you had been unsure of whether you wanted the others to know, but the longer you were with him, you no longer cared how they would react. But still, Loki refused. You often wondered if he was dissatisfied with being with someone from Midgard, maybe he was ashamed of the thought.

At times he would be gentle and kind, funny and generous. And sometimes he would be distant, as though you were only acquaintances, or less. The last time he had been here, he came in secret, and you spent the whole night watching the night sky and talking, his arms wrapped around you from behind as he told you stories of Asgard. And in the moment you felt like he might really care deeply about you, just as deeply as you felt for him. You fell asleep in his arms, and when you woke up, he was gone.

"Tony! Pepper!" Thor bellowed as he entered, greeting the two as they walked towards him. You jumped slightly as you were shaken from your thoughts at his boisterous entry.

"Thor, back so soon?" Tony asked as Pepper nudged his shoulder and smiled at Thor.

"Hello Thor, It's good to see you too, where's Loki?" She asked as she peaked behind Thor.

As she asked this, part of you was afraid he had decided not to come at all. But just as you began to feel disappointed Loki entered the room. His eyes scanned the room, over the others and on to you, where his eyes barely held for a second. Your small faltered before it even graced your face. He at least usually nods his head in acknowledgement to you, or even says your name in greeting with a polite smile, but that was barely more than nothing. You shouldn't have been hurt by that, but you were.

Pushing the thought down, you walked across the room and towards the brothers. Thor grinned at you "Hello Y/n."

"Hi Thor, Loki." You smiled as you greeted them.

When Loki did nothing but hold your gaze casually, you looked back to Thor "Your message never said why you were coming back, nothing's wrong I hope."

"No, no. Well...I'm not quite sure. We are here to speak to Strange. Apparently he has something he wants to discuss with us, a possible Asgardian causing trouble I think."

"And he needs you to deal with it?" You asked curiously.

"We'll see I suppose." He said casually with a slight grudge "We're going there now, but I wanted to say hello. We will return later." He said his voice now merry again, turning he began to leave, Loki followed with no word and barely a look at you, sending a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Feeling Pepper staring at you, you looked at her "What?" You asked cautiously, gaining Tony's attention.

"Was it just me or was Loki acting odd?" She asked.

"Now that you mention it-" Tony broke in "He was much more silent than he normally is, though that's not saying much." He said before turning and walking away.

You met Peppers eyes again and shrugged and she eyed you almost suspiciously before turning "Okay." She said unconvinced "I'll talk to you later then."

"Bye" You said as she began to follow Tony. Looking back at where Loki had been standing you felt a uneasy feeling flowing through your entire being.

- - - - -

After Thor and Loki's departure, you couldn't help but worry something had happened since the last time you and Loki were together. Had he gotten tired of you? Of pretending that he felt anything for you? Was it all just a game?

Countless thoughts troubled your mind, and only a few of them were defending his actions. Defending his disregard of you.

"Y/n." A gentle voice greeted from close behind you making you spin around in alarm at the sudden intrusion of your thoughts.

Seeing Loki standing there, a faint smile on his face, your usual butterflies were replaced with an anxious tightening of your stomach "Loki." You greeted simply.

Walking up to you, he stopped only a few inches away. Reaching down he took your hands gently in his own before bringing them up and pressing a kiss to the back of each of them.

You frowned in confusion at his sudden change, and as he looked at you he saw it clearly "What's wrong?" He asked.

Scoffing lightly you pulled your hands away from him, and you saw a small reaction on his face that seemed to be hurt. But pushing past it you tried to speak boldly "What do you mean? Isn't it obvious? I don't understand how you can move so smoothly from total disregard to- to...this?" You motioned your hands at him. "You acted as though you didn't even care I was in the room earlier, did you seriously think that I wouldn't notice? Or care?"

Loki stared at you with his mouth ajar "I- didn't think about it. I just assumed that you knew I would act...casual around you, as to not show our connection. If they knew." He chuckled lightly under his breath "They would think me....weaker, I think."

You scoffed again and Loki rose his brow at you "Love is not a weakness Loki." You said with obvious hurt in your voice. But as the words left your mouth, and you saw Loki's face change to surprise, you realized what you had said, what you had unintentionally admitted to him, and yourself in part. Quickly you stepped back from him and felt yourself become awkward "I need to go." You said as you quickly walked past him and left the room, leaving behind a somewhat astounded God behind you.

- - - - -

You stared at your curtain covered window, the white lacy fabric allowing you to see the silhouettes and faded lights of the city outside your window. Your last interaction with Loki replaced in your head on a loop. 'I really said "Love" didn't I?' You thought to yourself. You had been afraid to admit it to yourself, that you had fallen in love with him. But it came out so naturally, you must have meant it. You did mean it. You loved him. And that's why his casual disregard of your feelings hurt you so much. Surely he would not feel the same for you.

The more you thought about it, the more you felt yourself finally begin drifting to sleep. You didn't hear your door open and close, but you were aware of the footsteps coming towards your bed. Purposefully soft as they approached. If you were not in such a safe place, you'd be on guard. But even in you tired minded state, you knew who it was.

Instead of waking yourself up to deal with what might come with his presence, you continued to let yourself be taken by your sleepiness. But as you did, you felt a kiss pressed to your temple, and you blanket brought up and draped over you. The soft action caused your heart to beat rapidly, and the sleep you were fighting to take was fading away as his presence became too overpowering.

Finally, you let out a small breath and turned your head a bit further into your pillow, causing a bit of your hair to fall across your face. Speaking quietly out into the darkness of your room "What are you doing here?"

He remained silent for a moment as he reached over, and gently brushed the stray hands of hair from your face and back behind your ears. "You were right-" he began "love is not a weakness." Your heart began to beat heavier in your chest as he spoke gently from behind you, his hand rested gentle on your side. "But I became scared, of...your mortality. Of loving someone I can lose so easily and in what feels like, such a short amount of time. And that scared me more than I wish to think about." So I pushed it away a bit, never letting the others see it. Hoping that I..could stop it, I could take it back. But those were lies I told myself. I don't really want to stop it. I want to cherish it.So I have decided, it is much better to be with you while I can, rather than run from it and not have you at all. So I promise I will no longer run from it, or from you. I will make it my strength. My love. For you."

You never realized they built up, but a tear streamed from your cheek as he spoke. Remaining still you let the fabric of your pillow soak it up. "I was afraid you didn't feel anything for me." You admitted, ad you felt his hand grip your side a bit "I've thought about it too you know. You being immortal, and me not. But I more thought it was because I was human that you did not want me."

Loki brought his face beside yours "No. I want you. And...your humanity is what makes me love you more. You are so kind, and loving and strong, and so...human. I couldn't help but fall for you."

You smiled at this, and Loki pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, and you could feel the smile he had as well. Leaning back, he adjusted himself so that he was holding you now, his arms wrapped around you and his head resting just above yours. His body heat made you sink into the comfort of your bed easier, and you felt yourself drifting away again.

A sudden thought popped back into your mind just as you were losing yourself to sleep. You mumbled out quietly to him "Will you be gone when I wake up?"

Loki smiled to himself, pressing a kiss to the back of your head he then rested it on the pillow "Not this time."

No, not this time. He would no longer flee. He would no longer run from him desire to be with you. From this point on, he would cherish every moment. He would love you as you deserved.

xx End xx

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something-fanfiction-ie · 5 years ago

Text

The Years

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.

A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!

___

“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.

“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”

A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.

Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.

When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.

“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”

Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.

“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.

“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.

“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”

“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.

“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”

“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.

“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.

“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.

“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”

It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.

“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”

It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.

The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.

Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.

The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.

It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.

The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.

No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.

“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.

“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.

You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.

But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.

“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.

“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.

“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.

Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.

“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”

From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.

“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.

“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”

“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.

“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.

“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.

“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.

“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.

“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.

“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.

“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.

“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.

“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.

“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.

“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.

“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.

The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.

“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.

“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.

You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.

“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.

“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.

You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.

When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.

He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.

“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.

As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.

By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.

Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.

“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.

Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.

Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.

“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.

“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.

“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.

The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.

It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.

Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.

As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.

“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.

“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.

“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.

Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.

The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.

His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.

“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.

He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?

You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.

Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.

Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.

Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.

“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.

The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.

“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.

“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.

“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.

“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.

Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.

His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”

If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.

“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”

You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.

“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.

“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.

On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.

By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.

“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.

Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.

“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.

“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.

The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.

“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.

“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.

He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.

Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.

He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.

You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.

“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.

But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.

“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.

“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.

He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.

There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.

Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.

Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.

“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.

His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.

“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.

Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.

Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.

When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.

The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.

That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.

He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.

From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.

His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.

“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.

In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.

Oh boy, were you in trouble.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spence reid #dr spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds smut #smut

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maddiem4 · 2 years ago

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Reposado

A novella thing about letting go, and other things that I'd rather not spoil. I'll try to queue up daily updates, but I promise nothing. This is, essentially, writing practice that I'm doing in the open, rather than anything attempting to be a grand work unto itself.

Chapter 1

In hindsight, I think I first noticed the blood in the women’s bathroom. If there was something more subtle, it never caught me by the hair and dragged my face to it, like a dog being scolded for soiling the carpet. Maybe there was something subtle I missed. Maybe several things. But the first one I remember is a Monday morning, looking in the mirror as I put on mascara, and there it was reflected in the smudgy glass, painted on a stall door.

Like… you remember, when you see a crusty, dark brown handprint. That sort of thing stands out.

It had clearly dried over the course of the weekend, there was nobody else in the bathroom, but… ew. We all bleed, it’s gross, whatever. You don’t have to smear it on the door of a bathroom stall like a psycho. But on the other hand, it’s high school, there are psychos here. You just hope none of them are the shoot-y type, and you live your life.

Lashes, lips, done. I’d originally been planning to chill here for awhile, but the bathroom had less of a sanctuary vibe with that period blood handprint - nasty - so I might as well get back out into the fray. It was whatever. Seventeen isn’t technically grown up, but it’s the worst parts of adulthood, and the worst parts of being a kid. You’re just… stuck in the middle, you know? You’re not really allowed to be anybody.

And your problems aren’t really adult or kid either. They’re in between, like everything else. This was not a great moment for me, and yeah, it was for teen drama reasons. Even in the moment, I was rolling my eyes about it, but… I couldn’t solve it. It’s like having to fax in a job application, it’s the most awful feeling. You just get absolutely bushwhacked by something you’d love to be making fun of, that deserves to be made fun of, and is absolutely ruining your life.

The halls were empty, but not ambiently quiet, on the way back to science class. There’s a hum of living people in all the classrooms, you know what I mean? I didn’t feel lonely in a haunted house kind of way, even though I was technically alone. It honestly felt like a relief, and one I was dreading to see the end of. Room 232 was up ahead, and I felt every footstep on the way there. Being alone with people is so much worse than being alone by yourself, because you can feel that it’s wrong. There’s no excuses. You’re just disconnected.

Hand on doorknob. Turn however many degrees. Note that it’s whogivesashit in radians. Smile. Pull.

And yeah, there was a whole classroom there. And a teacher. I saw Cassie. My oldest friend, and one of the best. She was twirling her curly black hair around a pen, when she looked up to see me and smiled. I smiled a little wider and felt bittersweet about it. After a few seconds that felt like autopilot, I was sitting next to her again. Back to the lab grind.

“Oh god you missed so much stuff, Lees!” she said, mockingly. “I tried to take notes, but it was way too fast. Mr. Brownstone unfolded new worlds of knowledge that our puny minds will be coping with for centuries. The written word could never capture it. You’re just doomed, kid, dooooomed!” I laughed, and Mr. Brownstone glared at us, and I’m still not sure which of us he was more annoyed with in that moment. Not that I could ask him now, obviously.

“God, stop it. Jeez. I wasn’t even gone for long, and it’s a lab. What are you on, now, number 7? Lemme copy your worksheet.” I began scribbling on my blank copy, tongue planted in the corner of my mouth, a focused machine.

“Hey, you can’t cheat!” Cassie play protested. She made a big show of covering her work.

“Come on, Cassie, you’re my lab partner, I would never cheat on you! Now was that Fahrenheit or Celsius? Stop hiding it.”

“Never ever, huh? Suuuure. But alright, partner.” She got a little quieter in that moment. There was a softness that snuck into her voice, maybe a little shine in her eyes. “Anyways. It was meters actually.”

“Fuck.”

I remember, I’d looked it up. One year, 3 months, 25 days. It’s still crystal clear to me now, the exact duration until graduation, and god did I want to be out of the kiddie pool, but… that’s when friends say they’re gonna keep in touch, and they all know they’re gonna drift off in different directions with their lives. And half of ‘em are gonna be burnout losers or something. And we all just know it’s coming, whether we’re ready or not. I wanted real bad to be too grown up to be afraid of something like that, but… I wasn’t.

I guess the rest of the lab went fine. I don’t really remember it that much.

#reposado #novella #my writing #maddiem4

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ikeromantic · 3 years ago

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Piano Lessons

An ObeyMe! Lucifer fic, approx. 1800 words. G/N MC, Fluff.

The infernal grand piano squatted in one shadowed corner of the music room. To any human, at first glance it looked no different from the version in the human world. A dangerous assumption, you knew. If an easy one to make. This instrument was capable of compositions that would drive a mortal listener mad, or even cause death.

You thought that would be reason enough to be given a pass on your Devilish Music I, but Lucifer didn’t agree. In fact, he considered your ignorance of the instrument and its compositions an opportunity. And that was how you found yourself in the House of Lamentation’s music room every afternoon when RAD let out.

Lucifer was already waiting on the bench. He looked up as you came in, lips compressed in an expression of near-constant disapproval. “You’re late.”

“I’m on time!” You glanced at the clock on the wall.

“If you aren’t five minutes early, that counts as late. Now come here and sit next to me.”

Arguing with Lucifer was futile. Besides, you did want to sit next to him. During your time in the Devildom, you’d developed a bit of a crush on the eldest brother. One that had you working hard to be on the receiving end of his rare smiles and sparse compliments.

Today you were hoping to impress Luci with your rendition from Certovski, Faust’s Mistake. It was one of the mortal-safe pieces you could attempt without risking your mind or your soul.

“Fingers on the keys.” Lucifer’s red eyes followed your hands as you tried for the appropriate position. “Elbows out. Move your left hand in.”

You did as instructed, but apparently you were still off. He reached for your hands, positioning them. Part of you wanted to fight him on it. The rest of you just enjoyed the feel of his hands on yours. His skin was always so warm and smooth.

He frowned. “Focus.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. With your hands in place, you ran through the demonic scale. Some of the tones were too low or too high to hear. You could feel them though, shivering your bones and raising the hairs at the back of your neck.

Your warm-up didn’t get any objection from the Prince of Pride, which meant you were doing well. A quick glance showed he wasn’t frowning any more. Good.

Lucifer stood and began to pace behind you. “What are you going to play for me?”

“I’ve been practicing Faust’s Mistake.” As if he didn’t know.

“Then begin.”

You take a breath. This is it. You try to psych yourself up. All that practice will pay off. All those evenings you gave up gaming with Levi and Mammon, the weekends you stayed in instead of going out with Satan or Asmo. You could play this in your sleep.

Your hands float across the keys, the melody pouring from the hidden strings, describing the terrible bargain Faust made. The fast, tripping notes gave way to the long, slow sounds of regret, and finally, to the clashing finish.

Sweat beaded your forehead as you lowered your hands to your lap. The tension in your chest stopped your breath as you waited for Lucifer’s judgement.

“That was . . . not bad.”

From anyone else, you’d take this as a criticism but from Luci? It was a gold star. You smiled over your shoulder at him.

The left corner of his lip turned up in a slight half smile. “I’m impressed you memorized the whole piece in such a short time. I can tell you’ve worked hard.”

You felt like if he gave you one more compliment, you might completely melt.

“But -”

Your heart sank.

“I didn’t feel the tension, the passion of the moment in your rendition. You were too focused on technical mastery.” Lucifer sat down beside you, his hip brushing yours. “The Faustian epic is classic. It must evoke the emotion of the moment, the story, that birthed it. Let me show you what I mean.”

His hands went to the keys. “This is from earlier in the story. The Fall.” He began playing in a low octave, a heavy, slow rhythm that made your heart pound. Or perhaps that was just from sitting so close to him.

Lucifer kept that going as he began to layer higher, lighter notes atop it. These sounded almost playful, innocent. If not for the ominous beat beneath it. “Here we have naivete. The mortal at play, unaware of the trap laid for him.”

You nod.

“The music is the story, the story lives in the music. Now -” The lighter notes began to slow, creeping closer to the lower octave. “The mortal becomes aware of the nearness of death. The lingering, slow demise that comes to all men.”

Your breath slows in time to the music, and you can almost feel the weight of your years, few though they are. It is as if you lived a century and now your bones are heavy and your body is weary. Your eyelids drift half closed.

Lucifer continues to play, the ominous chords grow louder and the higher tones fade until both melodies close in on each other.

There is a subaudible component now, and though you can’t hear it, you can feel it move with the pulse of your blood. An arrhythmia that pulls you into the moment. The music surges beneath your eyelids, a spiral of red across a dark abyss. A false light.

“Here Faust decides his soul is worth less than his earthly pleasures, and denies Death its due. You can hear the strains of rage from Death’s denial beside the demon’s triumph. And there, Faust’s -”

The music stops but you can still feel it inside you. Something slick and warm slides down your cheek.

Lucifer’s voice, demanding. Trembling. “Wake up. Open your eyes this instant.”

You wish you could obey. You’d like to but the music holds you where you are. Limbo. A space bereft of everything but the music. Death and the demon, Faust’s lust and greed.

“Please.” Lucifer’s voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it before.

You feel the pad of his thumb against your cheek. A sudden burst of magic like static on a distant radio. Then silence. Your mind slips under a dark, quiet ocean.

The water is warm. Peaceful. You can feel it cradling you. Stroking your hair, your cheeks. The touches become more insistent. Pushing you toward the surface. Toward wakefulness.

“I am sorry. Please. If you open your eyes, I will do . . . I will do anything, anything you want. I won’t make you practice anymore. I’ll give you a - a bigger room.”

The voice belongs to Lucifer, you’re sure of it. But it doesn’t sound like him. When has he ever pleaded, begged, for anything? You realize it is his hands on your skin, stroking your arms, your face. Then it hits you. The music. It wasn’t safe for your mind and now . . . was this real?

You open your eyes.

Lucifer’s face is the first thing you see. He is so close, you can feel his breath on your cheek. His eyes are wide and damp, and full of concern. You are held tight against him, like a child.

“Can you hear me? See me?” His fingertip slides along your jawline, a delicate touch.

“Yes.” Your voice comes out throaty and low. Rough as if you’d been screaming.

His relief is palpable. He squeezes you tighter, pressing your face to his chest. “I . . . I apologize. I got carried away with the music. And you’ve taken injury because of it - because of me.”

The words are halting, stiff. Hard for the proud eldest to say, and yet, for you, he does. “It’s okay,” you croak. “It was beautiful.” And it’s true. Some remnant of the cursed melodies still echo in the chambers of your heart. Haunting you with a promise that has no words.

“I will see you are fully recovered.” The briskness returns to Lucifer’s voice.

You try to push yourself up, off his chest. He doesn’t loosen his hold on you.

“Stop struggling. Are you uncomfortable?” Lucifer adjusts his grip, sliding your head to the crook of his arm. “Is that better?”

It isn’t, really. But at least you can see you aren’t in the music room anymore. Lucifer must have carried you to his chambers. He must have been worried, but you don’t know why. You feel alright. You try to sit up again.

With an exasperated look, Lucifer partially lifts you. He doesn’t release you. “Didn’t I say to stop struggling? You need to relax until you are . . . repaired.”

“I feel fine,” you tell him.

He frowns. “You are still bleeding from your ears.”

You lift a hand to the side of your head. It comes away red and wet. “Oh.”

“It will take a few days for the effects to wear off.” The concern in his scarlet gaze frightens you more than the blood.

“Will I be ok?”

“Mostly.” He looks away. “Until then, I will keep you here and see to your needs. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Does anything hurt?”

You shake your head. This, you discovered, was a mistake. The shadows of the room move with your vision, growing one direction and then the other. Wide swaths of darkness that catch your eye.

“Are you seeing things?” Lucifer looks back at you. His thumb caresses your cheek.

“N-no.”

“Rather, tell me what you are seeing. And don’t lie about it a second time.”

There is a flicker of warning in the crimson depths of his gaze. You tell him about the shadows, and the way the music still sings in you.

He frowns. “If the effects do not fade, I may have to keep you in my rooms forever.”

You note that he doesn’t sound annoyed at this prospect. But he didn’t ask you, and his assumptions don’t sit well. “You can’t lock me up, Lucifer.”

“I can.”

Wrong tactic to take. You amend. “It probably isn’t a good idea to burden yourself with caring for me. You have a lot to do. Diavolo needs you.”

Lucifer knows what you’re up to. He has millenniums on you, after all. He smiles and brushes the hair back from your forehead. “I have informed my brothers, and the Prince, that you fell ill yesterday afternoon. I’ve taken time off to care for you.”

Your mind takes a moment to catch up. “Yesterday?”

“Yes. I cast a spell to knock you unconscious when I realized what I’d done. It helped, briefly. But you started screaming some time in the night and . . .”

You realize he’s been sitting here, holding you, for hours. Warmth blossoms in your chest. A happiness completely out of place, all things considered. But despite the blood loss and possibly permanent madness, you feel loved. Cared for.

Lucifer seems to read your mind. He says nothing, just places a light kiss on your forehead.

Neither of you need to speak. He knows and you know and words just complicate things anyway.

He stands, still holding you, and carries you to bed. When you drift back to sleep, it’s with your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders to pull you close.

#obey me shall we date #om #om lucifer #otome guys #otome #devildom #obey me lucifer #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

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When the Chips are Down

part 12

masterlist

Y/N froze, staring at Namjoon like a cornered animal while Namjoon had her pinned down like that sharp, dark gaze that reminded her so much of a predator.

“What others, Y/N?” he growled, getting impatient with her silence.

“Namjoon…”

“What others.” he demanded, slamming a hand down on the table startling both Y/N and Moni, and yet she said nothing simply staring at him with wide, apprehensive eyes while her fingers clutched the arms of her chair, her knuckles turning white. Namjoon took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself down even though his words still came out gruff and annoyed. “What others, Y/N?”

“Don’t yell at me!” she snapped, standing up from her chair, chest heaving as she stared him down.

“What others?” he growled, returning her harsh stare.

“You don’t get to yell at me, not now.”

He sighed, taking another deep breath. Despite the tension and high emotions, he knew she was right. He had no right to yell at her about things that happened before they met, and he knew that she had been through hell before him. Yelling at her and demanding answers wasn’t going to do either of them any good. It never did.

“I shouldn’t have shouted.” his voice was softer now, an attempt on his part to be more soothing, especially as she looked like a frightened rabbit. “I need to know what others, jagi.” he took one of her shaking hands gently in his, treating her like the fragile doll she seemed like in that moment.

“Were there other pregnancies? Before?” she nodded slowly, eyeing him warily as he carefully steered her back into her chair. “When you were with Marcus, you were pregnant?” she nodded again. “Can you tell me about them, jagi?”

“There were two.” she admitted staring down at her lap, fiddling with her fingers. “The first didn’t get very far. I was only a few weeks along when I lost it.”

“And the other?” Namjoon asked, almost scared of the answer he was going to receive.

“I was five months along.” one of her arms came up to curl protectively around her belly.

Namjoon could see the way her hands were shaking, the distant almost haunted look in her eye, and it pained him. “What happened, jagi?”

“I was twenty one weeks. It was a boy” she smiled sadly “but there was so much blood, and I couldn’t get to the hospital. Marcus wouldn’t��. He left. I shouldn’t have made him angry. I knew- I knew better.” she blinked back tears, and Namjoon had to tamp down his growing rage, not towards her but towards the man who had put her through this. “By the time I got to the hospital it was too late to do anything. There wasn’t much they could have done anyway.” she shuddered at the memory. “The baby had been in distress for too long, and he came breech. There was nothing they could do. He was… he was too little, and it was too early. He couldn’t...”

Namjoon stopped her, pulling her into her arms as she trembled, gently stroking her hair as she began to cry. There was nothing he could say to make this better, nothing he could do no matter how much he wanted to.

“You gave birth?” he asked, the horrible realization, the full extent of what she must have gone through sweeping over him. She hadn’t just been pregnant. She’d given birth to a child, traumatically, and the child hadn’t survived. From the sound of it, there was nothing she could have done, nor was the loss naturally occurring. Part of him regretted asking her, for making her relive this memory, but he needed to know, and knowing what she had been through, he only loved her more. She was so unbelievably strong.

She laughed tearily, a fond but terribly sad smile passing over her features. “He was alive for about twenty minutes. I held him until he passed.”

“What was his name?”

“Noah. His name was Noah. I buried him at the little cemetery just past the bridge.”

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, gathering her into his arms again. “I’m so sorry, jagi.”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t breath after it happened. I couldn’t look at him. That’s when I met Jackson.” she admitted a more rueful smile taking over her features. “He gave me an out, and I made them pay.”

So many things made sense now. A missing piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, and suddenly it all made sense. He’d known she was in a bad situation with Marcus. He knew she had only entered the relationship to try to provide for herself and her sister, but it never made sense why she toppled a whole criminal organization to escape. Something about it just never seemed to fit with what he knew of her, but losing a child was just the sort of catalyst that would send her down that path.

His poor sweet Y/N had been through more than he could have ever imagined, more than even he had been through, but that was part of the reason he loved her, part of the reason she was perfect for him. She had seen the same darkness he had been raised in, and yet she was nothing like the women he had known in his youth, nothing like his mother had been.

Namjoon’s memory of his mother was vague. He was only a child the last time he’d seen her, but he could remember the drugs, the bottles of alcohol. He remembered the dingy half basement they lived in, how it always smelled faintly of mold. He remembered the men- lovers, loan sharks, dealers, and none of them had anything against knocking around a scrawny kid from the bad side of town. His mother had allowed it all. Nothing mattered to her except getting her next fix. Even as a child, Namjoon had known he was meant for more. He was so much smarter than the other children, so much better, and he wanted better for himself. It seemed impossible though. What could a child do to get himself out of the gutter? And then Si-Hyuk came.

Namjoon had been only eight at the time, but he could remember that day so clearly. Si-Hyuk had come to their home looking for him and his mother. He hadn’t known that he had an uncle before that day. It had always just been him and his mother, but suddenly there was this man claiming to be his mother’s half brother. His mother was out most likely meeting her dealer or one of the loan sharks she owed money too, so it had just been Namjoon and Si-Hyuk in the apartment.

Si-Hyuk was a wealthy man, a powerful man, but he lacked one thing, an heir. He needed a son to carry on the business, but his wife had failed to provide one before her untimely death. He could have simply adopted a child, but he wanted an heir of his own blood, someone with the blood of his father and his grandfather. It was a family business, and he wanted it to stay in the family, but Si-Hyuk had no siblings, no legitimate ones anyway, but there was one woman.

His father had had a daughter with one of his mistresses. Both the woman and the child had left soon after. His father had had no use for an illegitimate daughter, but Si-Hyuk had use for her now. It was a long shot, but if there was any chance that his sister had had a son, he had to take it. So he’d gone looking for her, and lo and behold, there was indeed a son. They found the perfect solution for both of their problems within each other. Si-Hyuk wanted a son, and Namjoon wanted out of the gutter, to be away from the mess of a woman he called a mother. There was only one problem, the woman herself. She might not have cared about Namjoonj, but she was a greedy woman by nature, and if she had thought there was anything to be gained from her son, she would cling to him like a leech. Everything would have been fine if Namjoon and his uncle had been able to leave before she returned. She never would have known what had happened to her son nor would she have cared, but she had come stumbling home just as Si-Hyuk and Namjoon were preparing to leave.

Distaste was too mild of a word to describe how both Si-Hyuk and Namjoon had felt about the woman before them. She might have been a beauty once, but a life of bad habits had degraded that beauty until she was nothing but a shell of the woman she had been, rotted from the inside out. She wasn’t willing to let go of her son without ensuring a life of comfort and debauchery for herself, and Bang Si-Hyuk was not a man to be blackmailed, so he’d given young Namjoon a choice: him or his mother. Only one could live, and Namjoon was nothing if not a survivor.

“Nothing will ever… I promise nothing will ever happen to our baby. I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” He urged, holding her tight to his chest.

She was a survivor too, but she didn’t have to be anymore. He was there to take care of her now. If only he’d found her sooner, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that she was here now. She was here in his arms, pregnant with his child, and nothing would happen to either of them.

“You can’t promise that.” she shook her head, pushing on his chest so she could stare up at him with those fathomless eyes of hers. “You don’t know.”

But he did know. This was his kingdom, and he made the decisions here.

“I promise you, jagiya, you will never lose another child. I won’t let that happen, not again.” she stared at him, brows furrowed in uncertainty. It was sweet in its own way. Logically, she knew there was no way for him to keep that promise. There was no real surety, but it was nice nonetheless. “As long as I’m beside you, nothing will happen.” he promised again, and she melted into his arms, too tired to fight both emotionally and physically, something Namjoon was quick to notice.

“Why don’t we go inside, jagi?” he murmured, still holding her close. “You’re tired, and you shouldn’t overdo it.”

“Okay.”

Namjoon helped her up from her chair and led her back into the house with Moni trailing at their heels. Miss In stood guard just past the door waiting for the couple to come back inside.

“We’ll take breakfast in the master bedroom. Y/N is tired and needs to rest. Another day of bed rest wouldn’t hurt.” she had a feeling that the last comment was directed more at her than it was his faithful housekeeper.

“Of course, sajangnim.”

Namjoon treated her like glass as he led her back to their room. One arm was wrapped around her waist to steady her while the other held her hand as though she was going to stumble and fall at any moment. She wasn’t, but she was grateful for the extra support. She didn’t talk about her other babies often, and each time it filled her with the same soul numbing sadness.

Soon enough breakfast was over, and Y/N had been put back to bed with Namjoon beside her, keeping her tucked protectively into his side as he put on a movie for them to watch. Apparently, he had no plans to leave her today.

As for Namjoon, he had always known that she was meant for him, ever since that first night. Everytime she challenged him, everytime he learned something new about her and her past, it only strengthened that conviction. She was perfect for him in every way. She was smart, beautiful, unbelievably strong, and she was his. They were both survivors, and what’s more, she was everything his mother wasn’t. Y/N would do anything to protect her family. She would fight for them till her last breath, sacrifice anything including herself. His mother had thrown away everything on drugs and liquor in a vain attempt to make her life better. He was happy the day she died. He’d been happy to be the one to shoot her. The world was better off without her, but the same couldn’t be said for Y/N.

She was light. She was music. She was everything, and he would tear the world to pieces for her. Anyone who hurt her, anyone who tried to take her from him would pay. Nothing was going to keep Namjoon from having his perfect family.

part 13

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yanderenightmare · 4 years ago

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yandere ! BNHA headcannons

PUNISHMENTS

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, abuse, anxiety, blood, guilt, mind control, NONCON/DUBCON, self-harm, slavery, starvation, isolation, torture, violence

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

Her fear is much too satisfying to ever feel the need to actually hurt her. He’s still a sadist, don’t get me wrong, however laying off the physical pain and preying on the emotional side of things.

I can take and do whatever I fucking want with you, whenever I want, and you can do nothing to stop me, Pumpkin.

However, his temper will always get the best of him despite him constantly fighting against it. The sad truth is, he doesn’t want to hurt her, he really doesn’t, but a lack of self-control is something that will always burden Katsuki. Where ignoring his building frustrations only get the best of him in the end.

Do you think I want to hurt you?! Well, I don’t! I fucking hate it!

He will stick to threatening for the most part, discouraging bad behavior as it arises. Seemingly unaffected by most of it, given his paramount strength in contrast to his darling, he manages to ignore most of her transgressions and settle for simply ridiculing her pathetic efforts, and doing so with perverted delight. His cock growing heavy and warm at the feel of her meek struggles. In short words: refusal will be met with salacious mockery.

Watcha gonna do about it, princess?

You’re such a crybaby!

I’d think again, if I were you, sweetheart.

So cute, so hopelessly adorable, good thing you’re all mine.

Words will set him off faster than actions. Tell him she hates him, she’ll soon be preaching otherwise, his cock pounding her into a silly hot wet cross-eyed mess, feeling foolish for ever even humoring the idea of retaliating.

What the fuck did you just say, slut? Say that again, I beg you. You’ll regret it, bitch.

Katsuki’s tolerance for unwanted behavior all depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s in a nasty mood, where he might just steer his darling into making a bad decision only to give him an excuse to punish her. These will be light punishments, sexual more times than most. He’ll have her bent over his lap, slapping the bare soft plump flesh of her ass again and again until she’s convincing enough in her apology.

Who owns this ass? Say my name! That’s right, you freak. Mine.

However, other times the smallest thing can set him off, and certainly not in any good way. He’ll be fuming, flames licking up and about his arms, crackles of hellbent fire mingling with his maniacal cackles. She’ll be lucky to come out with minor burns.

Time to learn your fucking lesson. Time for you to understand who here’s in charge.

However, the times where he’s silent, those times where he’s tired and fed up, those are the times she should really fear. Where he’ll be taunting like some haunting ghost, playing with her, perhaps opening the locked outer-door only to find satisfaction in hunting her down and dragging her back to do it all over again.

I’ll give you a reason to cry.

Continue to scream, and I’ll do it again.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Dabi doesn’t ever need to punish his darling too severely because his presence is an intimidating enough detergent on its own, encouraging her to stay away from doing anything too reckless. He looks like the onset of death, it’s only logical for her to think he might be as well.

Waddya look so scared for, Doll? I haven’t even done anything yet.

However, he won’t shy away from making it clear who’s in charge, something of which he’ll do from the get-go. But again, the fact is in-mistakeable whence he’s large and lanky form towers over her, smiling that crooked grin that have his skin stretching in stiches and staples. Leathery fingers brushing over sensitive areas, cyan eyes intently watching her every move.

That’s right, Babygirl, you know your place. Don’t make me remind you.

Besides he’ll sprinkle a couple path-keeping scares here and there, as in: he’ll correct behavior while she’s committing the crime and prove how idiotic her reluctance really is. Seeing how he’s much larger and much stronger than her, fighting truly is futile. He’ll make it clear she’s being foolish, lacing his words with condescension as he scolds her as though she were a child, while making her bounce up and down the length of his cock.

Silly little doll, thinks she has an actual fighting chance. You’re adorable, Pumpkin.

For the most part he’ll just ignore when she refuses him or fights him, it’s not like her pathetic struggles can do anything to stop him. In fact, he quite enjoys it in some malicious sadistic sense. How her delicious little wiggles have trembles running pleasantly up his spine, nestling somewhere in the bulging tip of his cock.

You’re so cute, begging like anything could get you out of this.

In some ways he’ll actually encourage misbehavior. Leaving her just enough freewill, just enough room to fight back, constantly egging her on and provoking her to retaliate either physically or verbally.

Babydoll, so feisty today. Try that again, why dontcha?

As far as punishments actually go, they’ll never leave out the element of pleasure. Spanking is always fun, hearing her scream his name over and over until it leaves her wet lips like a broken cry. Whilst gifting as well as reprimanding her with thumbprint scorch-mark hearts never gets old either.

Such a crybaby. Come one, cry some more for me, Angel.

Dabi is not the one to snap. He’s very calm, collected, reserved, calculating. Therefore, when his darling crosses the line, as in escapes, he’ll have punishments instore for her, punishments containing of her on her knees sucking his dick like her life is on the line, however�� he’ll never go any farther. His darling is precious, he can’t have her getting damaged beyond repair.

Let’s get you home, where you belong, Buttercup.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

Tomura will try to avoid threats and punishments altogether, knowing how his guilt will ultimately defeat the purpose of correcting his darling’s behavior. He wants to be happy when with his darling, and nothing but happy, but that won’t be possible if he serves as a constant reminder of dread to his darling with the display of fear ever so prominent and gut-wrenching in her eyes.

Don’t look so scared when I’m around. I won’t hurt you.

However, that doesn’t mean he’ll resist his carnal desires. He will resist in hurting her when she tries to fend him off, but he’ll still bury his dick deep inside her and hold her down as he starts rocking his hips sharply into the underside of her thighs, the slap of skin on skin echoing in his barren room.

You feel so good… just relax, I’ll make you feel good too.

He’ll lie more often than not as opposed to spouting threats. Promises upon promises, all bound to break. All in an effort to calm his darling down or to build some unstable trust in their relationship.

I’m not gonna hurt you.

You’re safe here.

He gets more annoyed than actually mad, her efforts mediocre against his lanky slender fingers wrapped tightly around her wrists. Giving mere half-hearted vocal corrections as he keeps her still for his cock to abuse.

Give up already.

Stop fighting.

You’re only wasting your energy.

But… he walks on constant eggshells. He will try to ignore her unwanted retaliation to the best of his capability and reel in the reigns of his temper, but he’s prone to snap at some point, knowing there lies a dormant yearning to touch her in more vile ways than one.

Careful now, don’t tempt me.

He’ll try to the very best of his efforts to be soft and understanding, not realizing before it’s too late that his actions only aided in watering the seeds of his darker desires, soon to be blooming with all hell breaking loose.

I’m a monster? Who’s fucking fault is that?

He’s easily vexed. He doesn’t enjoy her crying and will try to make it stop immediately. Screaming is even worse, piercing his ears making him scratch at his neck frantically.

Stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP! Stop, or I’ll give you a reason to cry.

But, the worst is when she runs. He’ll keep her locked in his room for the most part, but sometimes she’ll manage to sneak away and get lost in her attempt to find her way out of the compound he’s situated her in. He doesn’t enjoy any part of it. Running after her in empty rundown hallways like some monster in a horror-game. Catching her and hugging her close, dragging her back into his cold dark dreary room.

Don’t even look at the door. I don’t want to feel like you’re trying to run away from me again.

Wherever you go, I will find you, and bring you back… even if I have to drag you by your hair.

He’s a sore loser as well. He’s basically a child and will throw a temper tantrum when she beats him in a videogame. This will call for punishment, however he won’t call it that, he’ll call it another game, a game he knows she’s got no chance of winning.

You think you can beat me?

I’ll show you who’s boss.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Here’s one that rarely feels a need to punish his darling, mostly because he finds her struggles absolutely adorable when she’s trying to fend off either his mind-control or his scarf.

How precious, Kitty thinks she has a choice.

You’re so cute when you’re struggling.

But, she can choose to look at it as a punishment when he ties every inch of her body up in tight rope and spreads her thighs so far apart she doesn’t even have room to tremble when he slides his cockhead up and down the slick of the velvety folds on her exposed pussy.

You’re such a pretty little thing, tied up like that, Kitten.

He will threaten her though, if only to see her squirm in discomfort beneath him. See her lips quiver as her mind reels upon his words, her eyes spiraling in complete chaos, not knowing what to expect.

Pussy on a platter, where should I start? I love playing with my food.

Not much can actually anger him, but silence, cold-dreaded pin-drop deafening silence that racks at his mind, that can really bring out the eerie viciousness dwelling inside him.

Kitty, I asked you a question. If you know what’s good for you, you better answer.

Remember the last time you didn’t listen to me?

His lessons leaving her psyche crumbling in their wake. Fucked completely silly, his words rummaging through her mind, ordering her to cum again and again and again and one more time for master.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re begging for me to take control.

Let me show you what happens to little kittens who don’t follow the rules.

True punishments will lack all forms of fun, coming in the form of utter solitude. He knows how ferally and how painfully deep loneliness bites. He’ll leave her alone for days if not weeks in complete abandonment, starving her at times, simply waiting for as long as it takes before she comes crawling back to him.

You must be truly desperate to come to me for comfort, Kitten. I was beginning to think you were incapable of learning.

Saying the wrong thing will also set him off, even more so than silence. He loves noise. She can call him anything, yell and scream and cry until her lungs feel like they’re bleeding, and he won’t mind, but… call him a villain… don’t be surprised when he acts like one.

People warned you about me, didn’t they? Calling me a villain. Should’ve listened… look where you are now.

She never even saw it coming, him and his large hands, how easily they could bruise and choke and scar when truly motivated.

What? You thought you were gonna get away with that? Think again.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Keigo deals out punishment as he sees fit. He’ll punish the crime when it’s being committed. Crimes ranging from ignoring him to saying the wrong thing to saying the right thing with the wrong attitude. But when the punishment is dealt, he’ll forget the whole ordeal ever happened, never dwelling on the past, never holding a grudge and always, constantly talking about the future.

I really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? You’re so pretty when you smile.

I love you, Dove. Just let me love you and perhaps you’ll learn how to love me too someday.

He will grow frustrated and impatient though, and that aggression will bubble up and escape his grip on it at times. But, he’ll yell more than anything, yell and cry and kiss and lick and slobber all over her, pinning her wrists to her sides and hugging her with his massive wings, suffocating her in crimson.

Say you love me. Would that be so hard? I just need you to say you love me. Just pretend, only for a little while. Please, Dove.

He’ll humor other forms of making her more lenient. He’ll wash her hair, message her, carry or fly her places, even though she recoils back and flinches with every touch his calloused fingertips adorn her silky-smooth body with.

Maybe branding you will help.

He has this theory that sex will bring them closer and excuses his advances with this belief each time she starts sobbing when he pries her legs open to plant his sloppy warm worming tongue between them.

I can make you feel so good, Dove, you just gotta let me.

Don't be so difficult, I'm doing this for you!

His real violent nature lies dormant however. It’ll only come out when she crosses the line of trying to leave him. His wings will turn razor-sharp and she’ll catch herself in the heat of her regret, missing the time he would wrap them around her ever so softly and cry into her chest. Now, he’s baring his teeth, feathers coming to slice through her skin as a punishment of a million cuts.

What’s wrong with you!?

Don’t you dare fucking try it, you know you can’t outrun me.

He’ll feel really bad afterwards, cleaning every wound, embalming them with cooling salves, kiss and apologize for each and every one, but on the inside, he can feel the crawling feeling of contentment linger. Seeing her so catatonically compliant is refreshing and such a well-needed break form the exhaustion of fighting all the time.

I’m so sorry, Angel. I love you so much. You know that, right?

She barely flinches when he decides to get in the bath with her, and when he comes to message the anxiety from out of her back he can feel the slight shift of her leaning into the touch. His protective mode fades as he holds her close, and the pure earth-shattering woeful relief comes wafting over the residue of his fear of losing her, leaving him in a fit of rather ugly sobbing.

Nothing. Without you, Angel, I’m nothing.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Izuku acts oblivious to undesired behavior and retaliation. He will very much be aware of it all, yet he believes making her feel safe is paramount. So, he’ll forgive all her nasty words, and respect her wish to keep the intimacy to a minimum. In fact, the only time he sees her completely naked is in the bath, where he actually lets her do most of her own washing.

You’re safe here, Darling.

Other than that, he’ll coo and explain as much as he sees fit when she asks her bitter questions, however… there will always be the slight irking presence of self-righteous condescension.

Cruel, terrible people live out there, Sweetie, people who want to hurt you.

You’re lucky I’m so nice. Anyone else would’ve taken advantage of you and done something horrible, by now.

Although Izuku is a patient guy, he can easily see when something isn’t progressing. Good thing he has plenty of methods to make things go his way. While making her feel safe was plan A, Plan B is not as forgiving. If a soft touch isn’t to her liking, then perhaps a firm touch is what she needs.

I know it hurts, Honey, but that’s what happens when you don’t do as I say.

She’ll wake up with her wrists and ankles tied snuggly together, face in the pillow and her exposed tender tight little pussy raised to the high skies, all for Izuku to touch and feel and suck on.

Be good for me, Baby. We wouldn’t want to see those tears again, now would we?

He’ll be cooing her all the while when she cries out for him to stop, as well as landing a sharp painful blood-curdling smack against the plump dome of ass nudged up and pressing against his throbbing cock.

I think this is what we needed, Baby, for both of us to be reminded of who’s in charge.

He’s far from ever causing her any real pain though, settling for claiming her tight little hole again and again until she eventually understands where she belongs and who she belongs with, or to.

That’s right, Honey. I love you, you don't need anything or anyone but me.

He will eerily threaten her when finding her doing something not to his liking. For example: picking at the locks on her handcuffs when he leaves the room.

What do you think you’re doing, Sweetie?

Give up, Honey.

I’m gonna count to three, Sweetheart.

However, with the sheer strength and adept abilities Izuku is in possession of, he can never truly feel threatened by his darling, and a fear of her leaving fades more and more when he proves time and time again how very impossible it is for her to ever manage such a thing. He’s good at assuring himself she’ll never leave, and therefor he should only spend time making those good memories instead of those foul ones.

No need to be scared, Sweetie. I’m gonna take good care of you, like I always do.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

Kai is larger than life when it comes to threats. He puts all his assets into making them clear. Godly golden orbs and hellishly black pupils staring menacingly down into her swirling glossy puppy-dog eyes. Fingers digging manicured talons into her soft and tender cheeks, the feeling of buzzing on his fingertips, threatening to dissolve what found beneath them. Words spoken like the eerie calm found in the massive dark of fog-strewn forests.

I shouldn’t have to repeat myself, Darling. Say you’re sorry, and perhaps I’ll forgive you.

Kai will threaten and promise his darling a life of pain is she ever to disobey him, however… he’s all bark and no bite, never having the heart to follow through on his promises. Not after seeing how sorry she is. Seeing the look of utter tearful fear in her eyes, he cannot help but think that there can be no harm in forgiving her.

You’re the only person I’d make an exception for.

Count yourself lucky. I won’t be as forgiving next time you decide to misbehave.

He soon comes to the conclusion, or comforts himself with the thought, that due to his darlings chaotic and clumsy nature, she’s in fact incapable of following his restrictions.

Such a clumsy mess you are, Darling. Unable to follow the simplest of commands.

Besides, he’s come to find her forgetfulness quite endearing, understanding or choosing to believe that she doesn’t disobey to spite him. If anything, it’s a constant reminder of how in need she is of his protection.

Such a hopeless fragile little thing. How grateful you must be to have me to protect you from your own mishaps.

Chisaki will threaten first of all, biting his own tongue when the time comes to follow through on said threats after never seeing a proper lasting change in obedience in his darling’s behavior. He always tells himself that her actions should be reprimanded sooner rather than later, but those large eyes and that frail body he uses to warm himself each night has a way of strumming his heartstrings.

Please don’t do anything to upset me, Darling. The mess wouldn’t be good for either of us.

He does have his limits though. She crosses the line when she ends up hurting herself with her clumsiness. Tripping when running away from him, falling out the window when trying to escape, cutting herself when throwing broken shards of glass his way, getting dirt and all sorts of bacteria to infect her wounds.

Look what you’ve done now, Darling.

He figures his quirk is the only safe measure there is to correct his darling’s behavior. Safe to pull her apart and safe to put her back together again, and again and again and again with little sympathy battling his fascination.

Run, cry, scream; you’re simply dancing in the palm of my hand. You only have yourself to blame.

TODOROKO SHOTO

Shoto doesn’t view his darling as something to control, at least not on a regular basis. And because of this, he doesn’t see punishment, in its term, as something he has a right to exert on his darling when she fights back. He doesn’t view himself as a master correcting his pet. Admiring her efforts over feeling vexation because of them.

So much life in you, little one.

Freewill and passion he’ll put no chains on, but pain, however, is no unfamiliar pastime for his darling nonetheless. Shoto views pain as a pleasure, as a luxury, as a lifeline.

Don’t think of it as a punishment, Snowflake, it’s more a lesson of appreciation. You’ll thank me later, I’m sure.

When his darling is being particularly impossible, he’ll blame himself over her, knowing how it’s his fault that he can’t properly please her. Figuring more of his attention and care is in order of need, something of which he will happily oblige her with.

Is my little blizzard feeling lonely?

He’ll have her over his lap in no time, exchanging what fingers on what hand he uses when tickling the soft sensitive spot found between her thighs, going from hot to cold and steamy and feverish.

Is this what you wanted, Snowball? All you needed is ask. I’ll give you what you need.

But, during their more unorthodox sessions, Shoto is strict. He has to be, in order to give them both what they supposedly need. Shoto believes his darling needs his firm hand as much as his soft touch, she needs balance, whereas he needs someone to apply his balance to.

Be a good little firecracker for me and hold still.

However, he still doesn’t view it as punishment per se. He believes his darling is asking for the applied pain when disobeying his commands, therefore the pain is something she wants more of, something she’s begging for.

Don’t move, Crystal.

My little snowstorm, I told you. Don’t move…

He can get angry however. Not by words, knowing how many times he screamed at his father in the fit of his rage, never genuinely meaning any of the spiteful words he’d say, he knows his darling doesn’t mean anything by them either.

It’s okay, Wildfire. You’re just frustrated. Let me help you.

But escape… escape is a fragile topic and any attempts on achieving it will be met with stone-cold nonchalant wrath. Safe to say she won’t ever try leaving him again, not if she wants more of those irredeemable frostbite burns across her soft skin.

You think you know pain? I’ll make you long for something as sweet as pain.

Shoto doesn’t easily forgive. He doesn’t easily forget. He doesn’t easily cope at all in any healthy way. And he definitely doesn’t easily trust after being betrayed. He might just do something brash in his strive to feel comfortable again, or else the prickling feeling of uncertainty will linger about beneath his skin. Paranoia is a better word for it.

You think you can just up and leave? Think again, Snowball.

You’re not going anywhere. Nowhere without me. I’ll have you crippled before that happens. Mark my words, Icicle.

His flexibility regarding the amount of freewill his darling possessed will change drastically after his trust is broken. Chains are a great reassurance he’s come to find, and if she ever finds a way out of those as well… bones will break.

I didn’t want this, Snowfall, but… I must say… you do look your best when you’re at my mercy.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

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dropssofjupitter · 3 years ago

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Of Pride and Promises - P. 2

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: It has been a mere three weeks since your breakup with Draco Malfoy. Though your feelings haven’t changed, circumstances have.

Word Count: 2.1 k

Warnings: Angst-ish(?), swearing, sectumsempra, fist-fights, blood (minor?), aftermath of a breakup

Requested? - Yes

Masterlist Part One

A/N: For the lovely nonnie that requested it! I hope you like it! (I’m not exactly happy with it but hey, something is something!) [This work has not been beta read. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone]

Edit: I would also like to announce that I am looking for one, possibly two, beta readers! If you are interested please let me know!

Loving Draco Malfoy was like wading through quicksand. The more you resisted, the stronger the pull. Until eventually, you were pulled under.

That’s what it had been like for you. That’s what it had felt like. You were suffocated and sedated until you couldn’t think straight, until you couldn’t see straight. Your hands were no longer your own, your magic was merely an extension of his. Everything that you owned, was his to use.

Until you broke free. And then suddenly you could breathe. You felt lighter, you felt happier. You felt like you were more. But every time you saw him in the halls, every time you passed him in the Great hall, every time you so much as glanced in his direction, an intense wave of hurt and pain swept through you.

And Draco only seemed to be getting worse. Dark circles clung to his eyes like forgotten friends, his cheeks had sunken in, and his skin was a brand new shade of waxy white. He looked sickly, often reminding you of the Victorian children that haunted the paintings in the Slytherin common room. You were no fool. You knew that although the breakup may have been hard on him, it was nowhere near the severity of whatever threatened him now.

“Merlin, is that Katie Bell?” Pansy whispered to you, her chin propped up on her hands as she shamelessly stared at the girl who had just entered the Great Hall. “She looks like shite,” she said with a laugh, dragging her gaze back towards you.

“Yeah Pans,” you replied, stabbing your fork into one of the many potatoes that lay on your plate. “Being cursed will do that to you.”

The girl groaned, paying no mind to your snarky comment as she sat back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. “And there goes Saint Potter, probably trying to be first in line to the pity parade and get all the sympathy points.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, chancing a look over your shoulder at the scene unraveling in the middle of the Hall. You had to hand it to Pansy, she had nailed Katie’s description perfectly. The girl looked almost as haggard as Draco did.

You watched uninterested as Harry no doubt grilled the poor girl about the happenings of her curse, your hand perched under your chin. You were about to turn back to your food and to Pansy, who had not stopped talking to you apparently, when your eyes caught on Draco’s form.

He seemed frozen in place at the entrance to the Hall, unmoving as he looked at Harry and Katie in what appeared to be mute horror. He locked eyes with Potter and turned around, quickly making his way out of the Hall and down an unknown corridor. Harry soon followed him, and it was pure instinct that drove you to stand up from the table and follow after the two boys, much to Pansy’s dismay. Something else was happening here, and whether it had to do with Draco’s distance before your break up or not, you were going to find out just what the hell it was.

Chasing after Harry, you frantically tried to match his pace, running into students and Professors alike as you turned corners and skidded down hallways. It was a miracle that you hadn’t run into a wall yet, truly. You watched as he disappeared from view, ducking into the usually haunted girls bathroom. With a frown etched into your face and nary a thought to the consequences, you followed him.

Curses being flung across the bathroom at lightning speed met you on the other side of the door, and you had to duck almost immediately to avoid being hit. You lay flat on the ground, mumbling things like “What the bloody hell could have set them off in three minutes?!” as you fumbled for your wand with one hand and protected your head from shattered stalls with the other.

You crawled forward as soon as your wand was in your grasp, dragging yourself through the wrecked toilet stalls and avoiding most of the spells being hurled across the room as you prepared yourself to intervene. You moved into a crouch, murmuring a quick shielding charm before walking through the door half torn off its hinges and into the middle of their duel.

“Wands down -” You were barely able to get a sentence out before you had to dodge a curse sent by Potter himself, drawing your arms into your body as you heard him yell “Sectumsempra!”

Draco was flung across the room, his body hitting the floor with a dull thud. Both you and Harry looked over at him, pausing your actions as you realized that he wasn’t moving. “Draco?” you called out anxiously, taking a step closer to him. That was when you saw the blood blooming on his shirt and bleeding into the water. “Merlin,” you muttered to yourself, wasting no time in rushing over to his body, hands shaking as you tried to remember the proper healing spells.

“What the hell did you do to him, Potter?!” you yelled, looking over at Harry quickly before looking back at Draco. Dozens of cuts had opened up on his body, continuously bleeding and showing absolutely no signs of stopping. “Shit shit shit shit.” You hated to admit it but you still loved him. You still loved how it had been when you were with him. And you were so, so scared that you would lose him like this. So suddenly.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Professor Snape appeared out of nowhere, quickly rushing to Draco’s side and sending a long, slow look at Harry.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, rushed as you stared down at Draco. “They won’t stop bleeding. He won’t wake up.” The professor placed a seemingly comforting hand on your shoulder before wordlessly beginning to move his wand over Draco’s body, murmuring a spell underneath his breath so quietly that you couldn’t catch what he was saying. You didn’t care. The blood that had previously been pouring out of Draco’s body was returning to it, and the wounds were sealing.

Footsteps sounded behind you, and you realized that Harry was running away. You shouldn’t chase after him. Not when you were no longer with Draco. And certainly not with a Professor standing right next to you. But all rational thought had left your mind, and all you could think about was making Harry pay. So you stood, and you ran.

If you thought that Harry was fast before, he was even quicker now, running as if he knew he was being pursued. And maybe he did. But that just made it more satisfying for you as you ran him down, slowly but surely beginning to catch up with him until you hit him with a stunning hex and sent him careening to the ground.

“What the fuck was that Potter! What, do you preach the absence of curses until it’s convenient for you like a fucking hypocrite?”

Students and staff alike were turning to watch the exchange, gathering nearer as they sensed a fight. It was likely that you didn’t have much time before you were stopped so you decided to make it count. The stinging hex was wearing off by now, you knew it would be. So you kicked his wand away before pocketing yours. If they wanted a fight they would get one.

Harry turned to look at you, quickly standing up and getting to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The way he turned up his nose and squared his shoulders told you that he was trying to appear confident. The sweat on his brow and the shiftiness of his eyes also told you that he was epically failing.

“Is that really how you want to play this Potter?” you asked, danger creeping into your voice as you squared off with the boy wonder.

“Well it’s how your boyfriend wanted to play when he threw a hex at me,” he retorted, taking a step closer to you in a challenge.

You barely had time to think before you were punching the Chosen One. Punching him poorly, might you add. You were pretty sure that you heard a faint crack from your thumb. But the blood that had begun to spurt from his nose made your minor injury all worth it.

Harry cried out, falling back and to the floor as he immediately held one hand up to his nose. He looked at you in surprise, and it only took a few short seconds before a teacher was calling out your name and dragging you up towards Dumbledore’s office.

You passed Snape on the way up, making eye contact as you noted the unconscious Draco in his arms. You nodded once, more towards yourself than towards him, before turning your gaze back to the professor currently lecturing you on the do’s and don'ts of fights at school. You tuned them out and every interaction after.

~~~~~~~

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity that the tables had been turned on you. Yet again. Instead of you waiting in the dark to confront Draco, he had waited for you. You had known he was there as soon as you had closed the portrait, your eyes catching on his barely illuminated form as he sat in front of the fireplace.

“I suppose I should ask you why you aren’t asleep yet.” You threw his words back in his face as you walked over to the couches, deciding to not even try and avoid him. Your arms were crossed protectively in front of your chest, a poor attempt to try and prevent what was probably about to come.

Draco raised his hands under his chin, propping it up in a habit that he had learned from you long ago. “Why were you there,” he asked slowly, still not turning his head to look at you. It annoyed you, but you would let him have this for now.

“I was tired of being lied to.” It was the truth, and that was more than he deserved.

He clenched his jaw and turned to face you, his eyes narrowed. “You could have died. Didn’t you stop to think about that at all?”

You sat down in the arm chair to his left, arms and now legs crossed in defiance. “I didn’t think that I would be barging in on a duel. It’s not my fault that you and Potter couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

“This isn’t a joke!” His voice echoed across the common room and you froze. His gaze was level with yours, eyes glaring at you and hands clenched into fists. “You could have died!”

“You could have too!”

“That’s different!”

“How? How is it different Draco.” At some point you had stood up again, a finger pointed in his face in your anger. The sheer familiarity of the situation was hitting. The two of you had been in these kinds of arguments many times before. “See this self-sacrificing bullshit is why we broke up. Because you couldn’t realize that your life was worth just as much as mine!”

“No, we broke up because you got scared,” he retorted, standing up and matching your stance. “You got scared that I was actually being self-sufficient for once and you couldn’t handle not being in control!”

You knew he was deflecting. You knew that the two of you were both lashing out, emotions high from the day that you had, but still you recoiled slightly. “Is that really what you think?”

He just stared at you, stubborn ignorance formed in every fraction of his being.

You swallowed thickly, straightening your clothes and taking a step back from him. “Alright then. Gad we cleared that up.” You turned around and took but two steps before you moved to face him again. “And for the record? I was scared. But I was scared that you were recklessly risking your own life because you couldn’t handle even the slightest threat to mine. Not because I wasn’t in control.” You paused, clenching your jaw as you searched his face for any type of reaction. There was none. “I guess today just proved that breaking up had been the right thing to do. Goodnight Malfoy.”

You didn’t stop walking until you made it to your room with the door closed securely behind you. Letting out a breath, you allowed your body to sag against the door. You weren’t even sure if you could call that conversation closure. It felt more like another couples spat if you were honest, but you had meant your words.

From now on, you didn’t care what Draco did. You didn’t care if he was sneaking around at odd hours of the night, or looking positively zombie-like. He wasn’t your problem anymore, so you were going to stop making him one. You were done with him. For good.

Taglist:

@hydrasbitches @tayyymeek

Add yourself to my taglist

#Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #professor snape #Pansy Parkinson #katie bell #angst #jupe writes

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kyberphilosopher · 4 years ago

Text

Mᴏʀɴɪɴɢ Lɪɢʜᴛ

Word Count: 2061

“The Sun card represents radiance. Like the sun itself, it gives strength and vitality to all those that are lucky enough to feel its rays. There is much joy and happiness that is coming to you. On the other hand, the Sun reversed might be indicative that you are being unrealistic. It might be a sign that you have an overly optimistic perception of certain situations. Be warned, for when the sun ceases to shine on you, depression is soon to follow.” - ‘The Sun’ Tarot Card; Full Meaning.

Tap Tap Tap.

How early was it? Too early. You knew you had training today, but you were certain that wasn’t for another few hours. So what was that insufferable tapping for?

Tap... Tap Tap.

You shift against your pillow. You can feel your hair stick against your neck, in sync with the tightening fist by your face. Your eyes do open, slowly but surely. You feel groggy, despite the growing alertness inside of you. You’re waking up. What’s more, you’re waking up before you really have to.

Tap... Tap.

Your sleepy eyes search around the room. Behind the glass of the window, you can make out a blurry image of yellow and pale skin. Still, you’re exhausted. It could be a silly little trick pulled by your own brain. But on the off chance that it is-

Annie.

You sit up. Your vision is still smeared like oil, but you stumble out of bed. Your heel skims against the wood of the floor. It probably gave you a splinter, but now that you’ve started thinking about her, you know it’d be difficult to stop.

You partially hop to the window across from your bed. Your right hand reaches out to unlatch the thing, while the left rubs at your eyes to get the gift of clear sight. As you turn the wood to the right to unlock it, you step back and away.

The blond handles the rest. Her palms slip under the window and pull it up, and then she pushes herself through. She brushes the clear white curtains to the side and lands on the floor, just as your vision returns to you.

She’s wearing her favorite white sweatshirt, and standard brown slacks. There’s ODM gear at her hips, complete with all the strappings and buckles. But her face... oh, her face. Despite the time apart, it’s the same one you’d fallen in love with. The big, still blue eyes were gazing at the wood she landed on. Her pale blond hair is pulled back in the usual bun, her bangs hanging loose as always. But her lips look shinier today. Perhaps she tried the new lip tint you’d bought the last time you’d gone shopping.

“Annie,” you sighed with a soft smile. Any kind of stress you’d been feeling in the past few weeks without her was fading away, at long last. You knew she’d see you again soon, but you hadn’t realized she’d pick today. She must’ve wanted to surprise you.

Annie’s right hand reaches up to rub the back of her neck. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be up yet.” The girl looks your form up and down. “Or dressed.”

One of your feet rubs against the opposite shin. She’s not wrong. You’re wearing an oversized white shirt and cheap underwear that she can’t even see. Your hair is a mess, your eyes groggy, and your breath making your own throat want to gag. But you’re overwhelmed with happiness to finally see her again.

“Yes you did,” you challenge firmly, but tiredly.

Annie’s eyes soften. You’re right. She could picture your tired form in her head long before she’d even set out to surprise you. That and the fact that she’d purposely arrived before the morning chimes.

“Whatever,” you wave off. You step towards her, your heart reaching out to hers. Her chest is like a magnet to your own.

Your arms stretch out to embrace her. And you do. Tugging her to you, you feel her warmth. Her chest and neck flushed against yours, feeling your heartbeats fall into sync. Annie smells so good. She always has, but it must be that body wash the Military Police get to use.

Annie is everything to you. The attraction was immediate, and the build up of trust came naturally over time. Despite the two introverted natures, you spent time together. You ate silent dinners, went through the motions of the days with each other. You taught Annie more about life and perspective more than she cared to admit, and in turn, she had made you feel more confident in your own character. It became fact among the cadets that where either you or Annie was found, the other was never far behind.

And then, sometime in the midst of it all, the dynamic changed.

Your faces got closer when you pinned the other down during sparring. You’d share your food from the same spoon when there wasn’t enough. Even begun sharing the same shower. You’d always thought Annie was attractive, but now the attraction was rapidly becoming a solid, almost tangible force.

The heat radiating between the two of you was undeniable. One night, in the top bunk of your barracks, she crept into your bed and shared a kiss. It was wet and sloppy, but you were close to her. You didn’t care about the lack of experience from either of you. Annie mattered to you. You wanted to be with her, and apparently she felt the same.

Things were never made official by title, but you were even more inseparable than before. You’d witnessed her threaten Reiner for both hitting on you and insulting you on separate occasions. You judo flipped a boy for getting handsy with her. You went to winter markets, stargazed, and spent late nights sparring ending in clumsy make-out sessions. You loved her. You’d do anything for her. You’d already made a nonverbal promise to each other that you’d grow and mature together. What more could you ask for?

“I really missed you,” you admit, taking her in as much as you can. Annie sinks into your touch, closing her eyes in affection.

“Yeah,” she replies, which is her own way of letting it slip that she missed you too. Both her hands come to rest under your elbows, effectively keeping them in place around her. Pft, as if you were going to remove them for longer than a split second anyway.

“So,” you drawl as you saunter back to your bed. You collapse on it, rubbing the space next to you as a call for Annie. “Tell me what I’ve been missing. The MP’s still treating you alright?”

Annie shifts and averts her eyes in thought. Then she follows your lead, sitting on the edge of the bed as she starts to unbuckle her harnesses. “It’s the same,” she tells you.

“I know you don’t like them, Ann. You don’t have to pretend.”

And with anybody else, Annie would’ve been quick to annoyance. But with you, she was glad. Even though she definitely didn’t tell you the truth about everything, she knew she could still be herself around you. She knew you could sense she kept some secrets from you still, but you’d never forced the issue. Everything about your love was focused on understanding. It was more than the girl thought she deserved.

“What about the Scouts?” Annie decides in return. It’s a tactic at changing the subject, and one that doesn’t slip past you. Still, you don’t push.

“Just as annoying as we thought. I have to officially get up and at ‘em in a few hours.”

Your lover unties her boots. “Have you been outside the wall yet?”

She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear you say your piece anyway.

“No,” you sigh. Your hand rests on your forehead, your elbow bent as you stare up at the ceiling. “We have our first expedition this week. We’re taking Jaeger out to try the Commander’s new strategy.”

Annie freezes. Then she continues her movement. “Right. I’d almost forgotten Eren was here.”

You doubted that. “The bastard talked about the Scouts non stop back in cadet training,” you say as Annie twists around to face you. “You sure you didn’t hit your head on the way over here?”

Annie doesn’t answer. But she does gift a hint of a smile. It’s gone in a flash, but it’s more than others get.

Her ice blue eyes pierce into yours. It’s not threatening, however. It’s loving. Appreciating. She’s trying to memorize all the details inside of them like she’s about to do so for the last time.

Then Annie lowers head head slowly, until it rests by the crook of your neck.

“You got up early to see me today,” you say softly.

Your love shifts off of you, and props her up on her elbow at her side. You mirror her movements to observe her as well.

“I skinned my knee climbing from my barracks. My gear was giving me trouble.”

Some people may have expressed concern, but you knew your other half was strong. She didn’t need your pity. “Well maybe you shouldn’t have done that,” you shrug with snark back.

“Heh, thanks,” she responds, looking down to stare at your white cotton sheets.

There is quiet. The sunlight illuminates her hair. Her long eyelashes flutter up and down slowly. Annie is beautiful. No. Annie surpasses the boundaries of being beautiful.

“Y/N,” she whispers. “Would you love me, if I were evil?”

What?

“What did you say?”

Silence. Annie doesn’t look at you. She seems solemn, troubled. Haunted, even. No, not quite haunted. Maybe just hollow.

“Nothing,” Annie says decidedly. “I’m just muttering.”

You frown anyway. You know that Annie is weighed down by things that you can’t explain, or understand. It’s different from other soldiers, or just other people. But you didn’t think there was anything she could do to be evil. You had already shown and told her that you were in love with her. You wouldn’t go back on that if you even could.

Annie was your world. Your lion. Your entire purpose for even making it this far.

One of your hands reaches out to brush her fringe behind her ear. “I’d always be on your side,” you tell her softly. “There’s nothing you could do to change that.”

You’d be surprised, thought Annie.

“I didn’t mean to be depressing,” she mutters further. “I was looking forward to seeing you again.”

Annie is sad today.

Both of your arms wrap around her slim figure. You pull her close to you, so her head is between your chest and your neck. Both your bodies cradle against each other as you stroke the soft strands of yellow hair. The sun is seeping through the windows for only a passing moment, before it is covered by a blanket of grey clouds.

“Let’s go back to sleep,” you whisper to her, your eyes transfixed on the drops of rain hitting the roof one by one.

“I am sorry,” you hear her speak against your shirt.

You pull away, your palms against her cheeks so you can look at her stunning face. “Don’t ever apologize to me, Annie.” What more can you say to reassure her? “I’m with you.”

Annie is heartbroken inside. Maybe it was better that she didn’t say anything. Or maybe it was better in another timeline, where you knew. But Annie kept her mouth shut and tried to just relax her nerves. There was no reason to wake up feeling as guilty as she had. She was with you now. You would protect her against the nightmares with her father, or Reiner. Nothing to be afraid of.

“After this,” Annie says as you coax her head back against your body. “I’ll buy you one of those breakfast sweets you like so much. From the village.”

The rain taps against your window. The sun has all but disappeared by now. Surely the open window mixed with sheets of light rain will result in a damp floor, but there’s no way in hell either of you are going to get up and close it now. Instead you watch the water fall, thinking about how the shade of the sun matches that of your lovers mane.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I wrote this really fast. I just really love Annie and wanted to give her some appreciation. A weak plot, but oh well.

#annie leonhardt #annie leonhart x reader #annie leonhardt x reader #annie leonhart imagine #annie leonhart imagines #annie leonhardt imagine #annie leonhardt imagines #attack on titan x reader #annie leonhardt fanfiction #fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #fem reader #annie x reader #annie x fem reader #annie imagines

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cdarkheartzero · 3 years ago

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Diary of a Security Guard

For the always wonderful Rissy @rissynicole who I promised this to for being just...amazing.

Prequel found here-

https://cdarkheartzara.tumblr.com/post/622506786343288833

Data log entry 6555

Been watching Zim battle his PAK for a few (days) now. It has been SO mentally exhausting just to see, let alone experience. But that determination to get his PAK legs working. Imma be honest, it’s downright inspiring seeing him spaz, spark and struggle just to get back up n’ try it again once he catches his breath.

He even got Skoodge trying to activate his- few of the other smeets too, actually. I can’t tell whether he knows it or not (he’s pretty oblivious to the world around him so I doubt it), but he has a lot of fans among the youngins. They might find him annoying (cuz let’s be honest here, he is) but he has this unique…. charm(?) to him. Little bastard just doesn’t know when ta quit.

I can see the stress and strain of his struggles are starting to get to him though. He just hasn’t been himself lately. Physically Exhausted. Less destructive (again- lemme be honest- I AM ALL FOR but under normal circumstances). Hasn’t been doing much eating or sleeping. He’s just so fixated on this that it’s basically taken over his entire life. Can’t tell you how many times I have found him in the incubation room the past few shifts, tryin’ so damn hard to stand on his legs he basically passes out.

The smeets should be sleeping now. It’s pretty late and I see all the other guards settling into their seats relaxin’. Now’s the time to piss around, the break we all deserve. Alas, I can’t get that little shit outta my head. The pain on his face. The dedication and exhaustion in his eyes. It’s been burned into my organic brain ever since I had to stun him the first time. I don’t think I have ever been that scared before. I thought… I thought I could have killed him. That he wouldn’t be there the next morning. That this little ball of chaos would be erased from my life. And it was worse than anything I coulda imagined.

I wanna do something for him. I know I shouldn’t. ‘Specially after all the shit he puts me through. And I really shouldn’t play favoritisms but I dunno. There is just something about Zim.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He drives me crazy. He’s a little demon spawn. A selfish little piece of shit. More than once have I seen him sacrifice a playmate to make a quick escape or use poor Skoodge as a flesh shield. His bomb gifts haunt me very soul- I swear I hear them ticking in the walls relentlessly, taunting me. But he brings me such a calming ease. It’s so weird. Like… I wanna ring his neck sometimes but just having his little body in my arms brings me such warmth. His voice makes me want to slam my face against a wall but I honestly can’t fathom it not being there. I just want to be there for him. And do everything in my power to make him as happy as I can.

What did he do to me?

Ugh. I’m pulling my lekku out at my desk. Think, Zara. Think. There’s gotta be something I can do. I’m mindlessly fumbling through my clutter, still rackin’ my brain around what to do next. Suddenly, a sweet scent fills the air and I realize I opened my candy drawer.

Hmmmm…. it’s not much but it’s the thought that counts.

I look over to Kira and tell her imma need to take 5. “Candy break?” She asks, watching me sneak a few pieces away. “Something like that” I reply.

Walking down the hallway to the smeetery felt like an eternity. What do I say? How will he respond? Lord, what if he wakes the other smeets and I gotta clear out my whole snack stash to not upset the others? What if he cries? If his PAK spazes out again, what if I have to shock him again? What if I fail my mission? What will the control brains do to me? what if… what if I have to kill him? How would I live with myself if I...hurt my smeet? Shit. I gotta stop doing that. He’s not MY smeet. He belongs to Irk. I’m just a guardian, nothing more. But… I never want him to leave my side. But he also has a job to do! For Irk! I hope he never becomes an invader. Keep him here, where it’s safe. Maybe the science division or something… hmmmmm.”

“Uhhh…” I hear next to me, a random voice sounding concerned. It breaks my concentration and I see another guard, head slightly tilted, staring at me. “You good, man?”

Oh! Seems I have been standing at the door for some time. I laughed. “Yeah. Sorry. Just got a lot on my mind.”

“It’s cool” she smiled “just don’t let the higher ups catch you wandering around aimlessly.”

“I appreciate it. Thanks!” I said waving as she went about her way. “Higher ups?” Yeah. Not a whole lot of fear there. Nothing can be worse than what we’ve already experienced.

The door opened, inviting me to the darkness of the smeetery. Was it always so cold in here? The only light shines from a few wires and screens on the walls but other than that, it’s pretty pitch black. A totally different feel to the liveliness of the early shift when spirits are high and bodies are active. Luckily, our vision is enhanced in our tubes, far before we go online so nighttime is never an issue for us.

I creep over to the nesting area, where all the little bodies are snoozing (or snoring in Skoodge’s case) and see those ruby eyes staring at the ceiling. I notice his antenna perk and he looks my direction, instantly making a face of aggression.

“What?”

That the hell kinda greeting is that? Little rude shit. I wanna smack him outside his little skull but I take a deep breath and calmly whisper. “Ain’t you supposed to be asleep?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I’m your guard. It IS my business. Why ain’t you asleep?”

“I’m not tired.”

“Something bothering you?”

“No.”

I can see it written all over his face in glow in the dark paint. “Ah-ha. You really are a bad liar. Is it cuz your legs?”

“NO.” He turned to face away from me.

“Hey. Listen: you’re going to get it. I know you will.”

“But how come Tak could so easily? All mine do is attack me.”

“Just because she got it faster than you, that doesn’t make her better than you.”

“Zim never claimed it did.”

He’s hurt. His words and his feelings are battling against each other. Tak being able to activate her PAK legs without any difficulties was eating him alive but he would never admit it.

“Listen… Zim. It’s going to get easier. You just gotta keep at it. Small steps get you far in life.”

He shrugged, sitting up, curling into himself. “Zim wonders about that sometimes. Maybe… he isn’t meant to get it.”

There it is. “Of course you are.” I said, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. “I believe in you. You are going to find a way. You never give up. I don’t think you know how.”

He looked my way, eyes wide and glassy. SHIT. Imma make him cry!? I didn’t mean to!

“You… you do?”

Huh?

“Of course I believe in you, dummy. And I will be here every step of the way. I got you.” I said, grazing my thumb across his cheek. A smile took the place of that awful frown and his eyes lit. “Here. I got you a little something, but only if you try to get some sleep. You got a long day of training with your PAK and you need all the rest you can get. Oh, and don’t let anyone know I did this.” I said putting my finger to my lips.

I reached into a belt pocket and grabbed a wrapped hard candy. With two fingers I held it in front of him, he looked at it inquisitively. His grubby little hands reached for it and I let him grab it. He stared at it, slowly unwrapping it and Then glanced back at me. I guess he didn’t trust it.

“It’s not drugged or nuthin’. Just some sweets.”

Again, he stared at me.

“What?”

“Your accent is really weird.”

“Just eat the damn candy and shut up” I said, pushing the sweet into his mouth. He just huffed but suckled on.

“Now DON'T cause anymore problems and get some shut eye. I will see you bright n’ early.”

He just puffed his cheeks and rolled over. Think I handled that well. And maybe, hopefully tomorrow will be a better day for him.

Smiled and waved on my way out. Dunno if he saw me but it doesn’t hurt. Walked into the hallway, into dread. Leaned against the wall and slid down.

Us E.L.I.T.E.S can’t disobey orders from the Control brains but… I pray with everything I have in me that things stay like this forever. Cuz’ if i ever had my mission changed or if I had to hurt him… idunno what I would do.

Zara out

#invader zim #iz #zim #zero’s art #sketch #invader zim fanart #iz fanart #zero’s oc zara #diary of a security guard #smeet zim #long post

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yandere-sins · 4 years ago

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The Fox Wedding - Prologue I

Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!

Characters: Kitsune!Kita Shinsuke, Kitsune!Miya Atsumu, Kitsune!Miya Osamu, Kitsune!Suna Rintarou, afab!Reader

Rating: Explicit Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced/Unhealthy Relationships

a/n: Welcome to my new series! I’ve been carrying the starts of this idea around for a while now, but while I was doing commissions it really began to spread it’s roots, so here we are! You can, of course, read every chapter that will come out, or choose your ‘route’ from the ones available after they are all finished (; Please mind the specific warnings for each chapter, as they will vary. Here’s the prologue, please enjoy and leave me a comment what you thought about it! ♥

There was no use in screaming and crying, only a few annoyed sighs you heard from the guard on top of the staircase leading outside. No matter how hard you banged on the bars, yelled for someone to release you, or sobbed into your hands, no one came to your aid, having decided to let you have your ‘temper tantrum’ down here alone. What an inhuman way to keep you, in a moldy, make-shift cell, underground, with only a bucket for your needs and a - stolen - bottle of water.

“If we’re lucky, you’ll lose a few pounds before the wedding,” they said, bringing their long kimono sleeves to their faces to hide the ill-willed smirks behind them. But that was the least terrible thing the foxes appearing as human women had done to you so far.

Walking back from the bars to the small window, you stepped onto the single chair in your cell to look outside. Occasionally, you heard voices echoing from the buildings around you. The wind swayed the tall grasses covering every inch of the small village, aside from that, everything seemed abandoned. Roofs you could see had holes, there were no streets with cars or rails with trains nearby. The only thing you knew was there were the animals. The bugs in the grass, the deers in the forest, and the foxes in the village.

Crouching off the chair, you sat down, deflated, scared, cold. Not even your pullover could keep you warm, and you shivered, rubbing your hands against each other and blowing air on them in an attempt to warm up. But it was an effort in vain, you just tried to trick your mind into doing anything. Anything, besides freaking out.

You had every right to be unnerved. It wasn’t every day that some strange man with perky fox ears and a fluffy tail swaying left to right appeared in front of you, announcing you were to become his wife. Actually, the chances of that to happen were so low, you couldn’t even speak of it as a common occurrence at all. He introduced himself, but no matter how hard you tried to remember, the name ‘Kita Shinsuke’ wasn’t one you were familiar with. As absurd as it sounded, you really tried to use logic on a person that was beyond any kind of human reason in the first place.

For the first few seconds, you thought you had actually made a promise to marry this man. Perhaps by accident, maybe drunk? But the longer you thought about it, the clearer you realized that there was no such thing as accidentally accepting a marriage proposal. However, by that time, you had already let him into your newly bought home, served him tea, and questioned his announcement.

“It’s in the contract,” he had explained, softly, no immediate expression on his face. You couldn’t tell if his voice sounded upset or amused. Everything about him was so relaxed and indifferent, he made the situation seem almost laughable easy. “You agreed to be my wife when you bought the land.”

That was ridiculous. Even you knew there had been no such agreement, and yet, you still tried to find your contract, unable to discern it from all the other documents you hadn’t yet sorted in after just moving into this house two days ago. Much to your surprise, it had been Kita who helped you find what you were looking for, all the other papers seemingly flying out of his hand’s way as he reached by you to grab the contract from them. The old, parchment-like deed of ownership in his hand made you realize for the first time how odd the features of this man were. Fingers as pristine as a child, yet, with sharp, pointy claws instead of nails on them. Not to count the ears and tail that moved accordingly to his doings.

It also made you realize for the first time how deep in trouble you were as you read over the deed again.

In a matter of seconds, your life had changed around completely. You saw darkness in front of your eyes every time you tried to focus, your mind becoming dizzy from realizing your name underneath the additional marriage condition listed on the deed. Next thing you knew, he caught you with one arm, and you held on to the soft fabric of his kimono, scared you might lose conscience with your heart both setting out and raising your blood pressure way too fast. But that was only just the beginning of your troubles.

You barely remembered everything that happened until you eventually ended up in this cell. Just a lot of denial and refusal, people storming your house and dragging you out. You could still feel their long fingers and sharp claws pressing into your skin, your wrists and digging into your shoulders, and how their mouths formed grins too wide to be human. Screaming and kicking, you didn’t make it easy for them, but with your house so secluded from everyone else’s, you doubted anyone could hear you.

Moving to Japan, starting over, and live the best life you could imagine for yourself, that had been your dream. Now, more than ever, and in a scenario you couldn’t even have imagined in your worst nightmares, it was taking a turn for the worse.

“Kita-san,” you greeted him, your lips shaking as you held back more tears. Looking at him, it was almost unbearable to see him so calm in your distraught presence. “I want to leave--”

“You’re cold,” he noted, unfazed by the words you were about to mutter. Hugging yourself a bit tighter, you couldn’t deny what he was saying. The bars - as sturdy and metal as they seemed when you rattled them before - twisted and turned as his hand approached them, creating a gap big enough for him to step through. Only now, in the dim light of a candle he was holding, did you see the fur blanket over his arm, which he brought to you. Though you dodged away, Kita was unfazed by your fear, letting the cover fall from his arm and draping it over your shoulder no matter if you wanted him to or not. Admittedly, you were glad to receive a little something to warm up, gripping it with your hands quickly to pull it tighter around you.

Only when you were done shivering, you noticed his hand hadn’t vanished, picking at the part around your neck. With a flinch, you felt his cold fingers dig beneath your hair, pulling it out from under the fur and adjusting the neck properly. It was uncomfortable to have him touch you so casually, perhaps more like a parent would than a stranger who called himself your fiance, but you had to admit it was warmer this way.

“Do you want to marry?” you asked him quietly, a bold question perhaps, but what else was there to talk about? His hand halted, laying down on your shoulder gently, yet you felt almost as if this was a simplified neck hold like you’d do with a cat or dog if they misbehaved. “There’s no use questioning what we want or not. We have a contract, and you signed it. That’s why we are marrying.”

There was a logic to the way he was speaking, yet his words haunted you. Contract here, contract there, what did it matter when this was about marriage? An act of love and partnership? Was this what people called ‘settling for someone’? He couldn’t be seriously wanting to go through with marrying a total stranger just because of a contract, right?

“But I don’t love you! I don’t even know you!” Turning to him, you regretted searching for eye contact with this man, his eyes being just as unnerving as his whole demeanor. Especially now that they seemed to be lit even without the candlelight reflecting in them. Almost as scary was the deep breath that he took after you said what was on your tongue for too long, and you turned away again, not expecting an answer from him. Shrugging off the blanket, you mumbled, “I don’t want to marry you…”

Before it could leave your shoulder, Kita caught it, placing it back where he thought it belonged, and proceeded to make sure it sat right again. This time, the tugs on your hair were a bit rougher, and one of his fingers even scratched you, which you noted briefly with a whine. Kita rounded you, hand falling from your shoulder to the front of your neck, driving up your throat with its claws until it reached your chin, and lifting it, he made you look back into his eyes, despite the tears collecting in yours falling from your cheeks and wetting his hand too.

“My family wants us to marry, and I care about my family.”

He dragged his hand up your cheek, wiping the tears collecting in your eye with his thumb before leaning down to give your forehead a short kiss. “And now you’re my family too, so I care about you. Keep the fur on, I don’t want my wife to be sick on our wedding day, and then sleep until you’re woken up.”

“How can you care for me if you don’t even know me?” you sobbed, lowering your eyes, unable to keep looking at him.

“Who said I don’t?”

Ears peaking up, you held your breath, trying to listen if he said anything more. But Kita didn’t care to explain until you finally looked up again, expecting an explanation that you feared he wouldn’t give you. “The ways of the gods are unfathomable, but that doesn’t mean everything that happens is without reason. We met before, [Name], even if I’m afraid you don’t remember.”

For a split second, and perhaps, for the first time that you met him, you saw his brows furrow slightly as he said the last words, his hand falling from your face, as he turned towards the exit, his feet not making any sounds as he stepped away from you. “What do you mean?” you mumbled after him, his back now illuminated by the white moonlight coming through your cell’s window.

“Who are you?” you kept asking, standing up, barely able to hold on to the fur as you chased after him. However, the moment he stepped through the opening in the bars, they closed rapidly, keeping you from following him outside. All you could do was grip the cold iron with your hands, as Kita turned around briefly. “What are you?” You wished he’d answer you, at least now, at least before this whole ordeal was about to go down. Answer all questions, or even just one, so you could tame those raging feelings of confusion and fear inside of you.

But instead, he merely put his free hand next to yours, fingers laying down on your wrist for a moment before they patted down your arm, telling you to let go of the bars. Instead, he caught your hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the cold knuckles tenderly.

The candlelight vanished as a cold draft filled the air, coming from above the stairs. “Kita-sama?” an unknown voice asked, and you shied away as all you heard was a short growl in return. However, he held your hand tightly in his, not letting go even when the door seemed to fall shut quickly.

“I’m your husband,” were his last words before he finally let go of you, taking his quiet, barely noticeable leave.

Even when you assumed he was gone, you couldn’t find a calm second to collect your thoughts, the questions and lost answers working you up endlessly. You wished for some clarity, a miracle, or preferable even - an explanation.

But your night was far from over, even if there might be even more questions than answers awaiting you.

➤ [Move forward to Prologue II]

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