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abby-the-druid · 4 months ago

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Love Language 3

In which Naruto defends innocence.

“So, wait, have you, like, not done it before?” Sasuke’s voice was low, his hand was still kind of resting on her cheek from plucking a soft pink eyelash from her skin, the other was resting at the waistband of her jeans, fingers not so innocently pressing her skin underneath.

Sakura inhaled, glanced away from him, words on the tip of her tongue, when the front door slammed open.

“Honey! I’m home!” Naruto’s voice resonated through the kitchen, and at the sound Sakura felt her cheeks flush with warmth almost frantically pulling her legs off of Sasuke’s lap. “Oh! Sakura-chan’s shoes are here. Bastard you better not be tainting our lovely Sakura-chan!” the blond head of their best friend poked around the door, and in Sakura’s rush to meet his gaze with as much innocence as possible she mostly missed the dusting of pink on Sasuke’s cheeks and the removal of his hand from her hip.

Naruto’s blue eyes narrowed, darting from Sasuke’s hand still poised in the air near Sakura’s face, to the woman’s crimson cheeks, and finally noting the way their knees were touching on the orange couch.

“Bastard,” his eyes slipped to his friend, a single blond brow high on his forehead. “Why are you so close to Sakura-chan?”

Sakura’s green gaze flowed to Sasuke, and she was surprised to see that he had already fought the dusting of pink away, his face had fallen into a mask of neutrality as he lifted his hand in the air.

“She had an eyelash that was bothering her, so I removed it.” He shrugged and before Naruto could demand proof, Sasuke dropped his hand and wiped the lash onto his jeans.

“Ah,” Naruto’s face screwed up a little. “You never sit that close to me to examine my eyes when I have something in them.”

“Yea because you’re a loser.” Sasuke replied smoothly, shifting to stand, and shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I'm gonna do some studying, I’ll catch you guys later.” he said evenly, moving to leave the room.

“Uh, Sasuke!” Sakura peeped, the black-haired man stopped and looked at her from the periphery of his glasses. She both wanted Naruto to fuck right off so they could continue their conversation, so she could nuzzle back into his lap and his warmth, but she was also kind of terrified that once that particular conversation happened that maybe things wouldn’t be so easy between them.

Easy besides hiding their maybe kind of sort of definitely probably relationship from all of their friends and families.

“Thanks for getting that damn thing out of my eye.” She said lamely. He nodded and stepped out of the room.

Naruto’s blue eyes glazed over her, but whatever signs he was looking for Sakura wasn’t certain. He shifted so that his hands were knotted behind his head. “Don’t mind the bastard,” he said easily, smiling. “He’s always kind of weird like that. He takes after his dad.”

“I remember Fugaku,” Sakura said quietly, mind bringing forth images of an severely intense man.

“Oh yea, I forgot we were all in school together for fourth grade before you guys moved.” He chuckled. “Fugaku never changed.” Naruto seemed to contemplate something for a brief moment, before shaking his head and nodding towards the door. “Are we still on to go to the movies? Lazy Ass texted and said he and Temari were coming along too.”

She supposed Lazy Ass was another one of their odd friend names and shrugged. “Yea, I’m still down to go.” She tucked a few pieces of bubblegum pink hair behind her ear. “Did Sasuke not want to go too?”

“No idea,” Naruto said, shuffling into the kitchen. “He never comes along to these things anyways, so I kind of stopped asking him about it years ago.” He kept talking from the other room, and Sakura heard him rummaging through cupboards and the iconic pop of a top of instant ramen and the faucet running shortly thereafter. He stepped back into the room and leaned against the wall as the microwave hummed. “I suppose we could ask him though, if you want.” His blue eyes rested on her too clearly and then he grinned. “Though from what I remember he never did like romcoms anyway.”

“Is that what we’re going to see?”

“Yea, I think Hinata and Ino decided which one this time. There was talk of it maybe being a scifi flick, but I have no idea. I just like seeing her smile.” His face grew tender, a calm smile and almost wistful eyes, and Sakura’s heart squeezed a little at her friends' happiness. They were quiet until the microwave beeped, and before he walked away to get his food, he nodded towards the short hallway.

“Sasuke’s door is on the left, if you want to invite him. I’m gonna eat really quick, we’ve got maybe 30 minutes to get there.”

She nodded, and stood, stretching a little as she stepped towards the hallway. This was the first time she had been past the common areas of the apartment and her heart fluttered a little nervously in her chest.

She knocked delicately on the door, for some reason feeling quite anxious about maybe intruding on his personal space. Barely a heartbeat passed when she heard him mutter “come in” and she opened the door and hesitantly took a step inside.

The room wasn’t really what she expected it to be. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the walls which were covered in a collage of posters, band advertisements, comic book characters, shitty drawings that were drawn by his friends, and photography depicting said friends and nature. Sasuke was sitting at his desk, laptop and notes open, and his glasses were pushed on the top of his head while he rubbed at his eyes.

“What’s up?” he ended up yawning before wiping a final time at his face and situating his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

Sakura, who was still taking in the room, noting there were a few thriving pothos sitting on the ledge of the window his desk faced and another on a bookshelf that was near collapse from the sheer number of books, comics, and notebooks stuffed on its suffering shelves. She inhaled, a mix of salt water and pine filled her lungs, before she pasted on a smile. “We’re going to the movies; I didn't know if you wanted to come along or not.”

The young man swiveled in his chair to face his computer while waving a hand towards his bed before his fingers clacked on the keyboard. “What movie are you guys going to see?”

She gingerly sat down on the blood red duvet on his bed and eyed the pile of plush pillows stacked invitingly against the wall. “I’m not actually sure, I guess Hinata and Ino are picking, and Naruto said it’s some kind of romcom that might be a scifi crossover?”

“Is it that Astral Ocean movie?”

“I have no idea, but I guess we only have like 30 minutes to decide.”

He went ahead and googled the movie title, and seemingly satisfied with the synopsis to some capacity, simply shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I just have to change.”

Sakura shifted on the bed and Sasuke shook his head. “You’re fine.” She settled back into her original position and attempted not to stare dumbly at him when he stripped his black t-shirt off over his head and stepped over to a pile of clothes on his floor.

He stretched over, skin pulled taught along the edges of his shoulder blades, lifting a few different pieces of fabric to his nose, wrinkling it and tossing them into a different pile before finding one that passed his requirement and slipped the fabric on and hiding his soft, pale skin from her vision. Sakura swallowed and looked down at her fingers, picking at the skin in her nail beds.

The bed shifted beside her as Sasuke sat down. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him yet, the brief view of his skin had sent her heart throbbing in a way she didn’t quite know was possible. He reached out to her with tender hands and tilted her chin until she was looking at him. His touch was warm, breath fanning along her pinkening cheeks, as his eyes darted around her face. Looking into her eyes, her mouth, and her eyes again. He dipped closer, mouth slanting against hers, black fringe tickling along her nose and cheekbones. Her tongue had only just gained entrance to his mouth when:

“There’s absolutely no way you’re still plucking an eyelash off of her skin.”

Sasuke and Sakura jumped apart, hearts racing and flushing, necks snapping around to look at Naruto, who was leaning innocently enough against the open frame of Sasuke’s door. He had a playful smile on his mouth, a blond brow raised at them in a challenge.

“Loser,” Sasuke turned away from his roommate, lips pursed in an almost pout. “What d’you want?”

The blond laughed and bounded into the room, throwing himself in the sliver of space between Sasuke and Sakura. Before either of them could stop him, he reached out with both arms to tug them each into a one-armed hug.

“You’re not even going to deny it! You’re not even going to deny it!” Naruto sang, placing a kiss onto Sasuke’s temple and then another onto Sakura’s between laughs.

“I never denied it,” Sasuke shot back, trying but failing to hide his own smile.

Sakura squirmed a little in Naruto’s strong grasp and grumbled quietly at him “You didn’t even ask my opinion on what was happening earlier.”

“Oh, oh,” Naruto turned his megawatt smile on her. “What’s your opinion on what was happening earlier??” he let go of their necks and half-heartedly tickled her sides.

“Naruto!” She giggled and Sasuke sat up and pushed his hair back into some semblance of order. “We were totally making out dirty style.” She tried to employ some type of seriousness in her voice, but she was laughing too hard.

“Ew,” Naruto playfully pulled away from her. “How could you ever taint the innocence of our little bastard?” he turned to look at Sasuke, reaching out to him. “What has she done to you my sweet angel?”

“As if Sasuke is the innocent one here.” Sakura joked as Sasuke pushed Naruto’s hands away.

“Ahh you’re right I already ruined him when I gifted him my uncle’s Icha Icha series.”

“Wait you gifted him the series?” Sakura’s jaw dropped and eyes widened. “Wait, Jiraya is your uncle!? Can I meet-”

“No!” Sasuke and Naruto said simultaneously.

Sakura scowled and Naruto wrinkled his nose and made a face at Sakura that made her smile.

“Yea he’s totally a perv,” Naruto added, scratching at a whiskered cheek as he stretched out his legs. “Never in my life would I introduce you to him, he’ll get all handsy, and just blech.”

Sasuke stood, scooped a large grey striped hoodie from his floor, and stepped over to his computer, tapping on the mousepad before shifting around to look at Naruto. “Didn’t you say we only had like 30 minutes until the movie starts?”

“Shit, what time is it?” Naruto pulled out a battered cell phone, blue eyes growing wide. “Shit, yea, I’ll drive us!” The blond skittered out of the room to grab his wallet, keys, and shoes. A second later a thud sounded as he skidded into a wall. “Fuck, ouch.”

Sakura smiled shaking her head as Sasuke offered her his hand. “Is it okay that Naruto knows?” she asked tentatively, taking his digits and smoothing out her oversized sweater.

Sasuke brushed her hair out of her face, letting his fingers gently untangle some of the soft pink strands, eyes tracing along her skin. He shrugged. “He knows what Fugaku is like.” Both of his hands came up to cup her jaw, thumbs brushing over her earlobes. “He’ll keep quiet.”

She nodded at him, and he met her mouth again briefly.

“Jesus, guys, stop making out! We have to go!” Naruto called from the kitchen. The pair shared a smile with each other before separating and jogging after their friend.

#naruto #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #my boy #my beloved #otp #sasusaku #sasuke x sakura #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfiction.net #college au #ssmonth24 #day 11 #my art

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thebluewritingbench · 3 years ago

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10) “Please, for the love of god, do not explain any of what I’m seeing.”

I feel like there could be a lot good comedic dialogue with this one.

I’ve enjoyed your Supercorp stories so far ❤️

thank you!! here have some more fluff: this is disgust #10 from these dialogue prompts

"Please, for the love of god, do not explain any of what I'm seeing."

“Your Monopoly set is cursed.”

Lena glares at the board, currently filled with houses and hotels, abandoned pieces still spaced around the edges. She’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch instead of sitting on it and looking disgruntled. Her nose is scrunched in disgust, and Kara kind of wants to reach over and boop it.

Instead, she leans back on her hands and grins at Lena. “I don’t think the fact that you lost means it’s cursed.”

Laughter rings out loudly from the kitchen, and Kara catches Nia’s cackle above the rest. It’s the tail end of game night, the point where the games are starting to be forgotten halfway through and abandoned in favour of fervent drunk rants and trips to the kitchen for more snacks. Right now, Kara can hear Nia trying to convince the others to climb out the fire escape and up to the roof.

It’s just her and Lena left in the living room now, and Kara’s had enough aldebaran rum and coke that everything is a little fuzzy around the edges.

Lena falls forwards slightly, like she’s tilting on her axis. She’s a lot floppier when she’s drunk. “I think that’s exactly what it means,” she says. “I always win Monopoly. I am the queen of Monopoly. I do not go bankrupt.”

“You did in this game,” Kara laughs, catching her hands. Lena beams at her, forgetting to be irritated for a moment before she quickly overcompensates with an expression that’s far too serious to be believable.

“Because it’s cursed,” she says.

“Because Alex beat you.”

Lena gasps. “Alex cursed Monopoly.”

“Alex did not curse Monopoly,” says Kara, swatting at her. Lena laughs and swats her back, so they’re hitting each other’s hands as she talks. “There were just a lot of us and you had bad luck this time.”

“Like I said, cursed!”

There’s the sound of a window opening and closing, and the chatter in the kitchen swells and fades slightly. Nia must have convinced everyone to go up to the roof. Kara cranes her neck to try and see if there’s anyone still left in the kitchen.

“Stupid Monopoly,” Lena mutters, mostly to herself. “Fuck Monopoly.” And just as Kara’s turning back to look at her, she reaches out and hits the board off the table, sending cards and plastic pieces flying.

“Lena!” says Kara.

Lena does not have the grace to look abashed. In fact, she looks quite pleased with herself, like a cat who just knocked something over.

“You can’t just knock over the Monopoly,” says Kara, scraping up handfuls of little plastic houses and hotels from the carpet. “What if we wanted to keep playing?”

“Oh, pfft,” says Lena, unbothered, flipping dark hair away from her face. “Everyone’s too drunk to play now anyways. We weren’t going to keep playing.”

“You don’t know that.” Kara plucks a Monopoly house from her palm and throws it at Lena. It bounces off her forehead, and Lena’s jaw drops in a comical exaggeration of betrayal.

“Did you just throw a hotel at me?”

“It was a house, actually,” says Kara, picking another one to throw. This one bounces off Lena’s cheekbone. “That was a hotel.”

“You did not just do that.” Lena leans across the table and snatches a stack of Monopoly money, then launches it in Kara’s direction. It flutters down over the table and carpet. A bill brushes Kara’s ear. One lands on Lena’s head.

“That’s paper, it’s not going to do anything.”

“Don’t test me,” says Lena, scrambling out from behind the coffee table and grabbing the rest of the stack of money. She flicks it off her hand, a few bills at a time, sending a rain of multicoloured money over Kara and scattering the once tidy piles across the floor. The bills slide under the couch and TV. Kara chokes out stop between her laughter, still tossing tiny houses and game pieces at Lena.

There’s a bowl of gummy bears on the table, and when Kara runs out of Monopoly pieces, she reaches for a handful of those and starts throwing them at Lena instead. Lena’s moved on to throwing the cards at her, and it’s really going to be a bitch to pick it all up tomorrow, but Kara’s laughing too hard to care. Lena’s cackling, and she stumbles to the side and crashes into the coffee table, knocking over the remaining Jenga tower as she goes down. It only makes them both laugh harder.

Popcorn. The bowl of popcorn on the couch still hasn’t been knocked over, so Kara grabs a fistful of that and throws it. It’s better than the gummy bears, it sticks in Lena’s hair and falls down her blouse.

Having finally exhausted the contents of Monopoly, Lena reaches for her own handfuls of popcorn and gummy bears. “Take that,” she says, alternating between throwing the two snacks at Kara. “And that.” A gummy bear lands in Kara’s mouth. A piece of popcorn hits her eye.

Hiccupping back her laughter, Kara reaches blindly across the table for her drink, and without really thinking about it, flicks her wrist and tosses the entire contents directly at Lena’s face.

Everything freezes. Lena looks stunned, blinking rum and coke from her eyes. Amber liquid drips from her chin, her hair.

Kara, eyes wide, only manages, “Oh my god, Lena, I am so—” before Lena’s vodka soda is hitting her in the face. She gasps, inhaling a mouthful down her windpipe. Lena looks far too smug when she finally manages to stop coughing, and some instinct in Kara must take over because she lunges forwards and tackles Lena to the carpet.

Lena shrieks and laughs and squirms, and Kara pins both her hands above her head with one hand, sitting on her knees to straddle Lena’s waist. Instinct still driving her, she leans forwards and licks a wet strip up Lena’s cheek.

When she sits back again, Lena has stopped squirming and is staring up at her, utterly bemused. “Did you just lick me?”

“You’re covered in aldebaran rum and coke,” Kara grins. “Wouldn’t want it to go to waste. It’s expensive stuff, Lena.”

“Oh, so you’re trying to drink me.”

Kara shrugs. “Drink, eat, whatever.”

She’s basically sitting over Lena’s middle, which means she feels the way Lena’s stomach jerks slightly against her pelvis in a sharp inhale. Feels the way Lena tenses, like every muscle in her body has gone taut. Lena swallows, licks her lips nervously, which of course brings Kara’s full attention to her mouth.

Her lips are so pink, and so pretty and plush, and she suddenly looks so kissable it’s unbearable. It feels like Kara has to kiss her, like it’s a physical compulsion. She takes Lena’s chin in her free hand, squishing her cheeks slightly as Lena stares at her, and whispers, “Wait, wait, wait.”

Then, very gently, softly, quickly, she presses her lips to Lena’s.

Lena blinks at her, eyelashes fluttering, when she pulls away. There’s a long silence where she searches Kara’s eyes before she says, voice low, “Again?”

Kara leans forwards and presses a second experimental kiss to Lena’s lips. She lingers a moment longer than the first one, then pulls back an inch, still holding Lena’s hands fast above her head.

“Yes?” she whispers.

Lena nods, like she can’t quite remember how to speak. Then she says, “More.”

When Kara kisses her for a third time, her lips are already parted slightly, and they slot easily between Kara’s.

They’re so soft.

She tastes like vodka soda and gummy bears, and it’s almost more than Kara’s drunk brain can process at once; Lena’s warm body pressed to hers, her slim wrists in Kara’s hand, the softness of her lips, the taste of her mouth, the slick brush of her tongue. She loses herself in it, forgets time, forgets how they got here, forgets everything but Lena.

It’s finally quiet after all their shrieking and laugher, just the sound of their lips melding together. Kara’s not sure how long they’ve been kissing—perhaps a minute, perhaps a lifetime—when someone clears their throat loudly, like they’ve already done it once or twice.

Kara breaks away, and Lena makes a small protesting sound in the back of her throat, a tiny whimper. They both look over Kara’s shoulder at Alex, who’s standing in the doorway looking faintly queasy.

Kara watches her take in the scene: Lena lying on the ground with Kara straddling her waist and pinning her hands above her head, the pile of Monopoly money and pieces that they’re lying in, the gummy bears and popcorn scattered across the floor and in their hair, the drinks that are still dripping from both their furtive, swollen-lipped faces.

Alex opens her mouth, and then presses it closed again.

“You know what,” she says, after a long moment. “I don’t think I want to know. Please, for the love of god, just… do not explain any of what I’m seeing right now.”

Without another word, she turns on her heel and disappears back into the kitchen.

Kara and Lena turn back to each other, still pressed together on the floor, breath uneven. Lena’s flushed, eyes dark, lips parted. She really does look good enough to eat. Her wrists twitch under Kara’s hand.

They stare at each other. Several long seconds tick by. Then, simultaneously, they start laughing.

It’s a long time before they stop.

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorp fic #supergirl fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #i posted some awful angst earlier this week so here's some fluff #alex is perpetually being tortured by the 'gal pals' act her sister and lena have going on and so it shall always be #fellas is it gay to pin your bestie to the floor and make out with her #prompts #asks #anon #bluewritingbench writes #bluewritingbench ficlets

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happytroopers · 3 years ago

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crosshairs fic idea: reader is gossiping with coworkers (maybe medics idk) about who the most attractive clone is and reader mentions crosshair and he somehow finds out and teases her

Teasing // Crosshair x reader

“It’s definitely Captain Rex. ” Tula, a Rodian nurse from the 212th, stated decidedly. You giggled into the shitty GAR rationed caf.

“That’s just cause your into blondes.” You teased, content with the rounds of chuckles at the mess hall table as Tula’s teal cheeks blushed blue.

“I still don’t know why we’re having this conversation, they’re clones, they all look the same! Thats like the whole thing.” Rys groaned uncomfortably, the only man at the table of civilian enlistments. It was rare for some many of your friends to be in the same place at the same time- but medical staff and engineering alike, every six months after your first deployment civilian enlistments were shipped back to Coruscant for a week long training refresher.

“You can’t say that, it’s rude!” Tula slapped his arm, eyebrow ridges furrowing over her galaxy eyes. He held his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah Rys, we won’t assume you’re any less straight if you admit that Wolffe is clearly the most attractive.” Raina grinned, her peach colored lekku twitching at the thought of the commander. You considered the idea but shook your head as other names got thrown around.

Kix, Fives, Bly, Keeli, Cody, and a couple other names you didn’t quite recognize the names of were tossed around the table. Haircuts, scars, tattoos, personality all became deciding factors as you at your dinner, occasionally chiming in to tease your friends.

“Ok then, who do you think the hottest soldier is?” An engineer from some outer moon data post asked after you teased her for her choice- Tup, a younger soldier in the 501st that you hadn’t met since your transfer to Clone Force 99.

You held your hands up, ready to evade the question. But Raina interjected, a challenging look on her face. You’d gone through academy with the peachy colored twi-lek and her sharp tongue was almost faster than her flying. You knew that look, and it didn’t bode well.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll tell every trooper I see all week that you said it was them.” She threatened with a smirk that said she already knew she had won. The smirk grew to a grin when you let out a defeated sigh.

“Well, in my own personal opinion, that Crosshair is the most attractive man we work with.” You admitted quietly. An honest answer on your part, you did think he was attractive even if you’d never say it to his face. Immediately, several pairs of disbelieving eyes landed on you.

“What? He doesn’t even count!” Rys pointed an finger at you to emphasize his point, “he doesn’t even look like the other clones!”

You shrugged as Tula slapped the back of his head again, her voice scolding as she hissed, “You can’t say that either!”

Then she looked at you, “Really though? He’s meaner than a burned gundark.”

“He’s scary.” Raina nodded.

“He’s an ass.” Another one of the 212th enlistments echoed from down the table. You’d forgotten that a few of the units they were assigned to probably had worked with Clone Force 99 at some point. Nevertheless, suddenly, you felt a need to defend the sniper who had finally become what you’d consider a friend.

“Ok, so it takes a while to get to know him, but...” you started, thinking of all the amazing qualities no one else saw because they weren’t with him all the time, “he’s loyal to a fault, really funny, always pulls me out of sticky situations and usually manages to keep me out of them to begin with, once you get to know him and how he is, you see how much he cares about his-“

“Ok, sure,” Raina cut you off, clearly not believing the cold eyed sniper could care about anything or anyone. She paused to pitch her voice up, flutter her eyelashes, and clasp her hands beside her face like a cartoon princess, “we don’t know him like you do~”

She interrupted herself with a snicker before she continued in her normal voice, “and all that bantha crap, but this is about attractiveness. What makes him hot? And don’t give me any of this, personality is all I look at shit.”

“And if I tell you, you’ll leave me alone?” You asked, though it was more of a demand. Tula nodded, she had always been a little boy crazy, and was dying to hear the scoop. You sighed again, hoping your cheeks weren’t too flushed, “fine, He’s very unique looking, in all the best ways. He’s very tall and lean, but crazy built. I’m into the silver hair, and believe it or not, under the armor that man has the best ass you’ll ever see.”

Tula was leaning on the table, giggling wildly at the juicier bits of you description. Raina had leaned back in her seat, and rolled her eyes, “To each their own, I suppose.”

Fortunately for you, the conversation switched to complaining about to the soldiers that were in charge of your training. There was a rumor the Fox used “civilian training” as punishment for his men when they earned a reprimand. It made sense, all the Coruscant guardsmen that were tasked with running drills with you weren’t exactly thrilled to be there. As if any of you were either.

“Yeah, I definitely don’t understand that attitude. We get it, you don’t want to be here, neither do we, but we are so let’s just get it over with- with out the..... are you even listening?” You were in the middle of your tangent when it was clear none of your group was listening to you. Instead there were all staring over your head with varying looks of slight fear, curiosity, and overall disdain. Tula was the one who attempted to subtly point behind you. At first you feared it was one of the troopers in charge of your training, so you quickly turned around with a forced apologetic look on your face.

To your surprise, you found Crosshair. Helmet free, as usual he had a toothpick between his teeth as he gave your group an appraising sweep. He had the same look on his face that he did when he was sizing up ‘the regs’- until he got to you. It took a year for him to stop looking at you that way, but his slight sneer eased out to neutral-which when it came to the sniper, it might as well have been an ear to ear grin.

“Crosshair! What are you doing here?” You asked, turning around in your seat. In addition to his sudden appearance, just his president was slightly confusing. Typically, Hunter would come himself, or send Tech- all to avoid a potential fight. Your training mates looked slightly bewildered at the amicable exchange.

“Springing you. We’ve got an assignment.” He shrugged after plucking the toothpick from between his lips. Like a true creature of habit, he started twirling the stick between his fingers. You quirked an eyebrow motioning to the other civilians.

“You can’t ‘spring me’, it’s GAR regulation for me to do this training refresher.” You reminded him, he rolled his eyes- but you weren’t sure if his disdain was for your use of air quotes or just disdain for GAR regulation in general. With any member of the Bad Batch, it was usually general disrespect for the rules. You gave him a look before continuing, “I still have three more days.”

“Is it really training? You could run circles around anyone here, especially them.” He drawled as he nodded his head over his shoulders at the table of red painted troopers who were eyeing him in distrust. Your eyes went a little wide, was that a compliment? And then you ducked your head at the offended glares of your table. In an effort to prevent a fight, you stood quickly before letting him lead you off.

“They’re aren’t gonna let me leave, Crosshair.” You reminded him, looking up to meet his eyes. He smirked a bit, setting his eyes forward.

“How are they gonna stop us?” He challenged, dropping his smile to glare at a passing trooper.

“Well, ion cannons come to mind.” You mused before clearing your throat, “You guys could always go with me, you went on plenty of missions before you got stuck with me. It be like the good ole days.”

He didn’t laugh at your joking tone, but shook his head, “You’re one of us, you stay with us”

You were stunned to silence for a second, despite your friendship he’s never referred you you as ‘one of them’. Heat rose to your cheeks as you exited the corridor into a lift, so Crosshair diffused the tension.

“Mission takes precedence over regulations. When have we been know to follow the rules, anyways.” He mused, swiping his ID card so the lift would let you out in the hangar. He relaxed a bit when you snorted a laugh before he continued on, “Besides, how can pull you out of sticky situation if you’re on a different planet?”

You froze in your spot, stomach dropping and cheeks flaring with red hot embarrassment; you had forgotten the cardinal rule of working with Crosshair.

If you didn’t have eyes on Crosshair, Crosshair definitely had eyes on you. And in this case, apparently ears as well.

“Ok, look-“ you started, hoping to ease your embarrassment, but all of the excuses you could come up with fell flat before they made it out of your mouth. Fortunately, the lift door slid open, allowing you to escape before you could further your embarrassment.

Crosshair actually chuckled out loud, long legs easily traipsing past you as he headed towards the Havoc Marauder. Momentarily, he twisted around to walk backwards, pointing his toothpick towards you, “Don’t worry, your ass is almost as good as mine.”

#crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you

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sluttyten · 4 years ago

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craving you like the devil craves heaven

summary: you’re a succubus (a female demon that seduces men to death) and you task yourself with seducing someone difficult. enter mark lee, a priest with a vow of celibacy that he’s already struggling with. you think you’ll have some fun. (based off this message from an anon)

length: 8,622

warnings: religious themes, sacrilegious, corruption, demons, priests, oral sex, masturbation, sex

As a newly-made succubus, you wanted to impress your peers and superiors, and therefore decided to challenge yourself by making your first time special and big.

“A priest?” Your direct superior shook her head in disbelief. “Most would start with a regular mortal who is much, much more likely to succumb to sin. Are you sure you want to commit to seducing a priest? You realize they swear to be celibate, and typically they’re committed to destroying demons like you and I?”

You do realize all of those things, but you’re sure if you find the right one you can do it. Not all priests are perfectly perfect and holy.

All it took was a little bit of divine intervention (or rather you intervening in the divine), tapping into that holy line of mortal prayers. A little eavesdropping, careful listening, and at last you plucked the correct line, listening to the reverberating prayers of a holy man dealing with such sinful thoughts, praying for help in remaining faithful to the vows of the priesthood.

It was night in this place where the young priest was. Cool and dark, the air was damp and would surely make you shiver if you were mortal, but the cold didn’t affect a demon like you, nor did the mist as it clung to your eyelashes and the strands of your hair. You stood across the street from the rectory, standing in the shadow of a doorway, gazing up at the faint golden light of a window on the second floor of the holy man’s house.

You could still hear a whisper of his prayers.

“Lord, it’s me, Mark, your servant. I pray you give me the strength to resist these desires, the sinful thoughts.” He prays, and you can almost picture him kneeling with his hands folded before him, head bowed, and lips moving slightly as he repeats the words of Latin prayers.

You decide to study him.

That night you stand there on the street and watch the house, listening to his dreams, and catching glimpses of his neighbors’ dreams, as well as the other two priests who share the home with Mark. And in the morning you shift yourself to match the wall behind you, to continue your observations as the young priest rises and dresses and walks down the street to the church. You watch as he passes through the cemetery tucked behind the church, and he pauses at some of the headstones to straighten flowers or offer a prayer, and then he enters through a side door, and you stand outside, waiting.

Several hours later a crowd begins to arrive, passing inside through the large, ornate front doors, and soon after music swells, voices rise, and you hear the chanting of prayers upon prayers. You watch as Mark emerges from the church among his parishioners, as he smiles and talks and shakes hands with them.

You take special note of the way that his eyes repeatedly flick toward another human, near the same age as himself. You notice the way his eyes follow their movements, how he smiles when they meet his eye.

Ah, this one. That one is the source of the young priest’s sinful thoughts.

You observe as the crowd thins, disappearing from the front steps of the church until it is only the priest speaking to a mother and her toddler that keeps tugging on her hand and crying, and Mark tries his best to pay full attention to her, but the lovely human who has attracted his notice stands a few feet away, holding a folder in their hands.

Eventually as the bell tower above the church chimes the hour, Mark excuses himself from the mother, stating that he has an appointment to get to, and you watch with renewed interest as he leaves the mother and beckons the nervous-looking folder-wielding individual to step back into the church with him.

They pass through the nave of the church—their footsteps echoing up to the vaulted ceiling, through all the empty pews—and bow at the altar before stepping around to the side, and passing through a doorway tucked behind a statue of a saint. They shut themselves away in the priest’s office, and you listen eavesdrop from your hiding place across from the church, a safe distance from all the blessed holiness that would try to keep you out.

You can’t quite hear Mark’s thoughts, but bear enough to it, sensing the fluctuations in his emotions as the parishioner shows him the divorce file, and pleads with him to help them resolve the issues in their marriage to their spouse in a way that won’t end like this.

You can feel Mark’s tension, the conflict within himself. It’s his duty to help. But the desire he feels for this person sitting across from him.... it’s sinful, it goes against his vows.

That night you watch him walk back to the rectory after another mass, several meetings, a meal at the home of one of his parishioner’s. You listen as he prepares himself for bed, as he prays once more for the strength to get passed this way he feels because he knows it’s not right in the eyes of the church and God.

And that night, after Mark’s window has at last gone dark, after he’s fallen into dreams, you decide that your time for first contact has come.

Mark’s dreams are easy to intrude upon. The boundaries upon the rectory, blessed though they may be, are old and worn and leave several gaping holes for you to slip through and into his mind.

What you’re doing isn’t possession. That’s not in your repertoire.

In his dream, you take the form of Mark’s desire. You form the dream into what you require, setting up the scene as being back in his office, that desk between him and you, the future-divorcée’s file open on the desk.

Mark doesn’t notice a thing, he just slips right from his normal dreams into this one, picking up his lines without a skip.

“....and pray to the Lord. You and Alex can get through this. Counseling and prayer works miracles.” Mark says, and just as he’d done earlier in the day, he reaches across the desk and takes the hand sitting there atop the file.

Unlike earlier though, you’re in control of this dream. You’d felt Mark’s mind buzzing when his hand came in contact with the hand of his secret desire, so you turn that to your benefit now, making your first changes.

“I know it’s wrong,” you say in the voice of the divorcee, “But sometimes I think there’s no use saving the marriage. Alex feels one way about it, and I can understand that. Alex could fall in love with someone else and be happier and I want that for my spouse, of course I do. And if I could fall in love too....” Your look up at Mark sitting across from you, his hand still on yours, and the look on your face is one that you put as much want and lust into as you can.

Mark gulps. His fingers twitch against your hand. “Sometimes people fall in love with someone else. A peaceful resolution to a marriage, the dissolvement, annulment.... that can happen and both parties can remarry happily.”

He’s trying so hard, the poor thing. One look into his eyes and you can see the nervousness and excitement, the way his mind is rushing at this news that the person sitting before him might want to look for new love.

“Sometimes the person that we’re meant to be with is actually right in front of us.” You say.

Mark nods, swallows again. You test the waters, stroke your thumb over the back of his hand.

He jolts in his seat and stands, rubbing a hand over the top of his head as he paces over to a water disperser in the corner of the office, and he fills a small paper cup for himself, gulps it down. And you take this as your next opportunity to try to twist this dream to your advantage.

“Father Lee,” you step closer and closer, coming up right behind him.

His hand shakes as he fills the cup again, but before he can quite lift it to his lips, you curl your hand against his, and take the cup, bringing it to your lips and draining it while you look at him. He watches with his lips parted, eyes wide. Mark drinks too—drinks in every detail of you wearing his desire’s face and putting your lips where his had just been. You can hear his adorable thoughts—the innocent rush he gets from thinking that’s like an indirect kiss.

Things are moving too slow now, you can tell that even in a dream, even when you’re offering everything up for him to make the move, Mark won’t take the opportunity. He’s trying too hard to hold back, and you just want to seduce him.

So you push things ahead just a little bit, rearrange the dream to your liking, which is you sitting on the edge of the desk, leaning back on your hands with Mark’s hands on you. He’s got one hand tangled in your hair, the other on your waist, and the overwhelming sexual frustration you taste on his tongue as he kisses you is so fucking sweet.

Mark murmurs your name.

Well, not your name. But the name that belongs with this face. You press closer, kissing him back to make him shut up, to keep him distracted and enchanted by the lust of the dream.

But perhaps doing that pushes it too far.

Mark breaks away, gasping, “No, wait. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Irritation flashes through you, and for a split second your true self shines through.

Mark’s eyes widen and he gasps, the whole dream fluctuates, shaking and tipping to the side, and then you’re ripped back to reality, just a monstrous succubi hiding in the space beneath his bed.

You hold still as Mark staggers to his feet. Bare feet brush across the floor, and you hear him slapping his face, pinching at his inner arms, and then you hear him murmuring prayers again.

“Father, I’m sorry for my sins. Please forgive me.” and “Father purge these demons from my mind.”

You wrap your arms around yourself under his bed and smile. You don’t plan to go anywhere.

Several more days pass and you let Mark be. You even return to Hell for a few days to update your supervisor on your progress, and while it’s not as much as you’d like, they are impressed with your target.

By the time you return to watch Mark again, he seems to have calmed down a bit from that naughty dream you’d given him. You return just in time for him to say his nighttime prayers, and once more you wait for him to fall asleep before you enter his space.

You bring yourself physically into the space—at first incorporeal, but then you manifest a tangible shape that you personally admire for all of your earthly adventures, and you settle in to do your work for the night.

Even with a real body, you’re still light as a breath of wind, so when you climb onto the bed and settle over Mark’s chest, he doesn’t stir. Nor does he do anything as you step into his dreams.

This time you observe the dreams for a moment.

You seem to be in a memory. Mark’s brother and himself when they were younger, riding bikes down a street that fades off into white nothingness at the edges, not that either of the two boys seem aware. The dream shifts naturally from that bike-ride to sitting in a car, the windows rolled down, a night breeze filling the interior and raking its fingers through Mark’s hair. There’s a girl sitting in the seat beside him, talking and smiling and dressed cute with a milkshake in one hand that she pauses her story every now-and-then to take a sip at. A girlfriend or a first love. When she reaches over and lays a casual hand on Mark’s thigh, he jumps a little. It’s close enough to what you need, so you grasp onto it and take control of the dream like you’re the one driving a car.

You wear the dream-girl’s face as easily as you’d worn the one in the last dream. You move her hand higher up his thigh.

Mark turns his head to the side with a sharp inhale, staring at you. And then you realize, startling even yourself, that he’s actually staring at you.

The dream ripples and you can feel it pulling away from you, Mark resisting your attempt to control the dream.

“Who are you?” His voice asks, but the Mark in the dream before you doesn’t move his mouth. The voice echoes and booms from all around you.

Abort. Fleeing a dream, tearing yourself from the web of his mind, abandoning your victim in a situation like this seems like the absolute most perfect idea.

But tragically, it seems impossible.

The dream closes in around you, squeezing tight as if holding you there. You grapple with Mark’s mind, and then suddenly the dream releases, Mark gasps awake, trying hard to suck in breaths against the new weight of you sitting on his chest, a succubi filled with the lust and dream-energy you’d been siphoning from him.

Before you can truly flee, dissolving back to your incorporeal form and slipping out into the free night, Mark’s hand closes around your wrist, and with a strength and agility you didn’t expect, he flips you under him, pinning your form to his bed. Trapping you between his warm body and the firm mattress.

“Who are you?” Mark hisses.

You let your true eyes shine through, hoping that the dimly glowing sulphuric color of them will frighten him into letting you go.

Instead, he reaches into his shirt and draws out a cross on a silver chain. You flinch back into the sheets as Mark asks the same question again.

“I’m here to help you.” You turn your gaze away from the cross, locking your eyes on his. “You’re so loud with your lustful thoughts, and I’m here to help you feel better, to tame your lusty sins.” You buck your hips up, pressing up against his hips.

Mark swallows hard. “I don’t know what you are or what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, so you don’t want to fuck that sexy, soon-to-be singleton you were dreaming about the other night?” You bring your hands up both of his arms until your fingertips are under the sleeves against his biceps. “Oh, Father Lee, don’t you know how sinful that is? What would your fellow priests think? What must He think?”

Mark’s jaw tightens, and he brings the cross closer to your skin. Your body tingles and burns.

“Let me up.” You tell him. He doesn’t budge. “I swear to all things evil, let me up or I’ll scream and moan, transform to look like your secret desire so when your Brothers came running in here all they’ll know is I’m moaning your name, and you’re....”

Mark moves.

“Demon.” He spits the word at you like an insult.

You sit up, fixing your hair, and you wink in his direction. “You got it.”

“Get out.”

“Hey.” You stand, raising your hands innocently. “You’re the one that summoned me here. I’m a succubus, and the amount of sexual frustration radiating off of you was too delicious to pass up.” You lean in and sniff at his neck, just to take the opportunity to make him uncomfortable because he’s cute like that. “I just want to help, to show you that you can still feel good, Mark. And anyway, is it breaking your vows if I was just trying to entice you in your dreams? It’s not real is it?”

Mark shakes his head, taking an unsteady step backwards. “Even thoughts are sins.”

You roll your eyes and sink back down onto the edge of his bed. “That’s such a modern misconception. Back in the early days of your faith, people weren’t quite so... prudish. They had sex, some even saw it as praising Him, thanking him for the goodness of it all. Some people still do, why do you think people scream His name during the throes of ecstasy?”

Mark blushes. “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m just trying to help.” You reply, leaning back on your hands and looking up at him. “You’re horny, I can feel that. You’re channeling all of your lust toward one unattainable person because they’re married, Mark. Not to mention, they call you Father Lee, which is very unsexy, might I add. But if you would just give in to your dreams, have a hot little dream of making out, getting down and dirty in your office, then that would give you a bit of satisfaction, right? Have a wet dream like you haven’t since you were a teenager? Or at the worst, wake up with a boner, take care of it yourself. You do jerk off still, don’t you, Father Lee?”

Mark frowns at you. “Shut up.”

“Is that a no?” You gasp, sitting up. “Seriously? But you’re still so young, you’ve got all of these hormones, this energy that you need to release. Even if you feel you can’t release it with someone else, do it yourself.”

Mark turns completely away from you then, but you can still see him reflected in the mirror across the room. “Get out.”

His tone is so dour, dark and serious, that you do get out. You flee into incorporeality, still able to observe the look on Mark’s face when he turns around a second later and sees you’re gone, can still see the shape of where you’d say on his bed. He runs his fingers through his hair, and then begins to whisper prayers to his God for forgiveness for his weakness.

You let a few more days pass before you return, scared that coming back too soon would cause too much damage. But several days, you think, gives him time to think more about what you’ve said. You do watch him though, you watch closer than you’d done before, and you see Mark clumsily try to touch himself, as if thinking about what you’d said, but he always pulls his hand away after a moment with a groan of frustration.

On the fifth night since you’d last appeared to him, Mark lingers in his office at the church, pouring over papers, notes from meetings, notices from the parish school. In the yellow half-light cast off by his desk lamp, Mark looks so much older and more tired than anyone should look at twenty-five.

“You need to do something to relax,” you tell him as you manifest right behind his seat, already rubbing at his tense shoulders.

Mark spins his chair around so quickly, he nearly falls out of it. His pupils expand with fear, his chest rising and falling with the surprised, panicked breaths you’d startled out of him.

“How are you in here?” He asks, his eyes darting around the room to the closed door and the latched windows. You know he’s thinking about how the doors of the church are locked (because he’d checked them earlier after the last service for the evening), and then you can see the switch flip in his mind as he starts thinking about how you’re a self-confessed demon currently standing on holy ground. “How are you here?”

You shrug and step around him, sitting on the edge of his desk and plucking a paper from the middle of one of the piles. “It’s easy to be here. I just feel all tingly in all the good places.” You wink at him.

Mark groans and punches the bridge of his nose. “Am I going crazy? Is that what this is? You’re a manifestation of my mental breakdown?”

“Absolutely not,” you laugh. “I’m real. See?”

You take his hand from his face and bring it down between your thighs, close enough that Mark can feel the heat radiating off your skin, but before you can actually make him touch any part of your body, Mark jerks his hand away. You sigh sadly and return your focus to the paper in your hand.

“So, marriage counseling going well for the unhappy couple?” You scan the document which is notes Mark had taken during the counseling session for his crush. “From the looks of it they have issues. The unresolvable kind. Alex just won’t put out, and your sweetheart has needs, huh? But you know all about that, don’t you, Mark?”

Mark snatches the paper out of your hands. “That’s a confidential document.”

You hold out your hand, and right before Mark’s eyes another page from his desk appears in your hand, and this time you read aloud. “When we first got married, we would have sex regularly. At least once a week, usually more.” You raise your eyes to look at Mark. He’s trying so hard not to blush; you wonder how he got through the session. The next few lines of the message are more whining about the current lack of a sex life, and then it’s gets into the sordid, juicy details that you feel certain Mark had struggled to copy down, but had done so for the specific intent of reliving the rush he felt hearing about the sex life of someone he desires.

So naturally you read that part aloud to him as well, and Mark just squirms in his seat. You look up at him and see that he’s definitely blushing, his hands folded as he stares down at them with such a forceful look of concentration, that you’re surprised they’ve not burst into flames. He’s so determined to ignore you, you can hear the prayers racing through his mind.

But when you toe off your shoes and bring a foot up into his lap, you’re amused to find a raging erection hiding there. Mark shudders as the sole of your foot caresses him. His hands untwist, and one moves to your calf, curling around it, but he doesn’t push you away. Not as you keep moving your foot over him like this. His eyelids flutter.

You don’t dare speak, just let the silence hang in the room as you rub Mark’s erection with your foot, his hand on your calf, the other clenching into a fist on the arm of his chair. His lips part, small sweet-sounding sighs falling free. His eyes close, head dropped back against the headrest of his fine leather seat, and his hips shift beneath your foot.

He looks beautiful like this, you think.

Half-lit by his lamp, blushing and glowing with list and finally-felt pleasure. Your body tingles with your own pleasure, the success of doing this.

Mark’s teeth catch his bottom lip, trapping a grunt within his lips. You press your toes to circle them at the tip of his erection, and Mark’s hips lift up, chasing the feeling, grinding against your foot. He sighs, soft moans and pretty sounds, and then at last, he whispers “oh God” and then shudders and slumps back in the chair.

You feel the wet heat beneath your heel, Mark’s cum filling his trousers.

Satisfied, you vanish before he can open his eyes.

You return the following night. This time Mark is in his room at the rectory, sitting up in bed. His eyes are closed as he leans against the wall, his bedsheets pooled in his lap, his hand resting there. He’s not touching himself, but you can tell that he’s challenging himself not to. He’s hard again, and the moment you present in the room, his eyes open as if he could feel the change in the air.

“Demon,” his eyes narrow. “What did you do to me last night?”

“Why? Did it feel good?” You smile. You don’t walk straight to his bed, though you know you’ll end up there. You walk to the closet, run your fingers over the hangers, you skim your fingers through the dust gathering on the books lining the shelf on his wall.

When Mark clears his throat, it’s then that you finally look at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because you need me.” You nod at his lap, wave your hand in a long gesture at his whole body. “I’m telling you, Mark, the energy coming off of you, it’s a wonder you don’t draw every succubus in Hell to come seduce you, drinking up all this juice you’ve got, I’ve never been so full.”

Mark’s eyes flash darkly, his eyes stuck on your face. “Well you had your fill last night right? I can’t believe.... I’ve prayed to the Lord for forgiveness so many times since last night I went to confession earlier today.”

“Oh did you?” A burst of excitement goes through you, and you hurry to sit on his bed, taking up his hand. “What did you tell them about me?”

Mark shakes your hand off. “I didn’t mention you. Why would I? They’d either think I’m losing my mind, which I’m still not convinced that I’m not, or they’d think that I’m just breaking my vows and having sex with someone. I just confessed that I lost my battle against lust and took care of myself.”

You tut at him disapprovingly, shaking your head as you say, “Lying in confession? Isn’t that an oxymoron? And a sin?”

Mark’s hands clench at the sheets. “I wasn’t lying really. Not if I believe that you’re a figment of my cracking mind.”

You smirk, and when you lean closer and lay a fingertip on Mark’s cheek, tracing along his cheekbone and then dropping to outline his lips, you whisper, “And do you believe that? Truly? That I’m just a figment of your imagination?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Mark whispers hoarsely. “I don’t know if it’s better to think I’m doing this to myself or that there’s a demon taunting me.”

“Maybe I’m actually an angel in disguise, sent in answer to your prayers.” You shift onto your knees, and lean close to Mark’s face. You hold just an inch away from his lips. He goes almost cross-eyed trying to keep looking at you. “In which case, you should take advantage of this opportunity, no? Let me help you, enjoy it.”

Mark pulls his head back, closing his eyes tight as he drops his head back gently against the wall. “This is a sin. I’m a priest, I can’t be doing this.”

You roll your eyes and move.

Mark peers curiously, and almost fearfully, through a cracked eyelid when he feels your weight leave the bed. But a split second later you’ce settled completely in his lap. He goes stiff, murmuring prayers under his breath as well as something that sounds suspiciously like some sort of chant to banish you.

You stay firmly in your spot. “Why did you become a priest, Mark?”

Your question catches him off guard. His prayers cut off and he opens his eyes, looking directly at you. “What? Because I was called. I heard His voice calling me.”

“When?”

“The first time I was young. Fifteen, I think.” He looks up at the ceiling, remembering. “Again when I was eighteen. I entered the seminary at nineteen, studied until I was twenty three, when I became a deacon, and then I was ordained earlier this year. At twenty five.”

You shift your weight. “And you never doubted it? That this was what you wanted to do? That you wanted to swear yourself to celibacy? Never have sex, never allow yourself to experience pleasure? Tell me, Mark, are you a virgin?”

Mark’s blush returns, flooding his face with heat. “Why do you care?”

“Have you ever been touched by another person?” He stays silent, and you think about what you’ve observed in him. You think about him clumsily touching himself before giving up, about how easily he’d fallen apart under your touch the night before. “Have you ever touched yourself, Mark?”

You can feel how hard his heart pounds now, and in each loud beat you hear your answer.

“Cute. Little virginal priest.” You put your hands on either of his cheeks, turning his face so he has no choice but to look right at you. “Was last night your first orgasm?”

Mark breathes through his nose, holding your gaze, trying to steady his racing heart and mind. “Can you stop.”

“But aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to feel it again?” You drop your hands from his face. “I can give that to you again. I can make you feel even better, actually. If you let me, Mark, I can open up a whole new world to you.”

When his eyes close you can tell that he’s thinking about how to banish you, to send you back to hell. You find that very attractive, particularly when a muscle in his jaw flexes.

“Mark,” you whisper, and you lift a gentle hand to his neck, tracing a finger along a vein that stands out there. “Mark, what if I’m just a figment of your imagination? It’s not wrong then, is it? To want to feel good like you did last night? I can give that to you again, I can make you feel better. Just tell me yes.”

The silence buzzes in the room as you wait for him to speak or do anything.

“Yes,” Mark’s voice comes out shaky, hoarse. “Yes, okay. Just one more time.”

You move before he can decide to change his mind. Mark just takes steadying breaths as you sink down the bed, slipping beneath the covers, fitting between his thighs. He holds his breath when you tug down the waistband of the plaid flannel pants he’s wearing, when you touch his bare erection with your fingers, the tip of your tongue, your lips closing around him.

You’re not sure that he breathes until swallow around him, pushing to take more of his cock down your throat. Your body buzzes with the heat coming off of him, the energizing power of making him feel good.

Mark doesn’t touch you. He clenches his fingers in the bedsheets on either side of his hips as you give him his very first blowjob. You can’t help looking up at him as you do this; watching every look of pleasure and satisfaction cross his face, unrestrained. And when he moans, they’re soft moans, always conscious that you’re not alone together in this house of holy men, that there’s another priest just two doors down, an empty bathroom in between.

You keep sucking him off, taking him as deep into your mouth as you can when he blows his load for the first time.

Mark bites his knuckles to keep quiet. You pull off his erection, keeping your fingers on him, playing with him as he shudders through the last waves of pleasure.

“Look at that, would you? Felt good? How could that be a bad thing?” You drop a tender kiss to his tip, and then sit up, feeling very satisfied in yourself. “Do you want more?”

“More? No. I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t.” He put his hands over his face, pinching at his nose. “Shit. What am I doing? You need to leave.”

You look at him with his face covered, his body on display to your eyes. “Well, if you want more, I’m sure you can look up a summoning ritual for me in one of your holy books, Father Mark. Call me.”

You stand up, and it’s not like you’re going to leave by the door, or anything, but you turn to look around his room one last time. You’re done here. You seduced the priest, drank energy from him, there’s nothing more to be done. You’ve enjoyed your first time, but you’re not going to do the full succubus job to this man, you’ve enjoyed him too much. You won’t drain him and leave him sick. You just hope you opened his eyes.

“Wait.” The young priest grabs your arm before you have the chance to disappear. “How do you expect me to summon you if I don’t know your name?” He says it lightly, almost joking, as if he’s still not sure that he can really take this seriously, this whole you being a seductive demon thing. But the look in his eyes is hopeful.

With a light touch to his chin, you lean in, and whisper your name in his ear.

Months pass in mortal time. You move on from the young priest, seducing many men and some women, draining a few of them dry until they’re just shells of their former selves. You’re currently seducing a wannabe actor, literally sitting on his dick, when you feel a tug inside you. It’s a strange feeling, nothing you’ve felt before, and it’s not pleasant at all.

You push at the man’s chest, the unpleasant feeling spreading through you. “I’ve got to go,” you tell him, and then you turn and vanish, following the strange feeling.

You find yourself in a strange room, a small bedroom.

“So you really never came back to me.” A voice says from behind you.

You spin around, noticing all at once the candles, and then right before you--

“Forgive me, Father. I thought you didn’t want more from me.” You reach out to Mark, standing right here before him for the first time in so long. You missed him. You missed teasing him.

“I didn’t expect you really wouldn’t come back.” Mark stands there just out of reach, his arms folded across his chest. And he looks so good, so handsome in a black button-down shirt and gray pressed slacks. But he’s barefoot and his hair is messy, adding a toned-down casual level to his attractiveness. He clears his throat and you look back up to his face as he says, “I had to make do without you around, you know.”

That piques your interest. “Oh? Did you finally learn to jerk off? Have you been touching yourself? Here in the priest house?”

Mark shakes his head. “Look around, does this look like my room there?”

No, actually. It doesn’t at all. And a quick look out the window shows that you’re in somewhere completely different.

“I left the priesthood,” Mark explains. “What you said, what you did to me, I realized that the priesthood wasn’t what was the best choice for me. I can still serve the Lord in other ways, other ways that will allow me to explore the side of me that you awakened.” And now Mark steps closer to you. At last, he reaches for your face, slipping his fingers into your hair. You practically purr at the contact with him. “I’ve been busy since you left me.”

“Oh?” You lean into his touch. “From priest to manwhore in just a few passes of the moon.”

Mark nods. “I tried to stay on that path for a little while, but I just couldn’t. I craved more, that same feeling you gave me.” He nibbles his bottom lip nervously for a second before admitting, “I actually slept with a woman before I decided to give up on the priesthood. I prayed for forgiveness afterwards, but it just felt like I fucked up too much on that one, so I decided to leave. I moved away, started over, slept around, but none of them touched me the way that you did. Nothing feels better than you.”

You shrug. “It’s part of the job description really. I’m a seductress. You think I’m not going to be the best you’ve ever had? Is that why you summoned me, you want more at last?”

“Demon, I want to make you a deal.” Mark caresses your cheek. “I am a man of faith, and you’ve steered me down some side path that I had absolutely no intention of going down. In the past, I didn’t know what to do with you, but I wanted you. Now, I still want you, but I know what I’m doing. I know about you. I did research about your kind while I was looking up how to summon you again. I want to make a deal.”

“A deal?” You pull back from him, breaking all contact. “Mark, what the hell. Don’t you know what making a deal with a demon means?”

He cuts you off with a shake of his head, dismissive. “I don’t care. I know the risk, but, fuck, I swear you got me addicted to you. Just a few hits, and I crave you.”

“Why would you want to make a deal with me? A binding pact?” You push at his chest and Mark takes a step back to balance. “Are you fucking stupid? You think I want your soul, Mark Lee? You had a good soul, a pure one. That’s why I left you and never looked back! Some things are too good starting out, and tarnishing them with my hands....” You look down at your hands, and you can see through the glamor you wear, down to your real form the ashen hell-burnt flesh.

Mark’s watching you when you look up at him. But he doesn’t look afraid, doesn’t look sad or sorry.

His eyes still burn with need.

“I don’t want your soul,” you tell him, “So I don’t want a deal.”

Mark takes another step back from you. “But I want you. So take the damned deal. Fuck me.”

“And what do you get out of it? You won’t get fame or fortune or health from this deal. You literally just get to fuck a demon until you die, so no, that’s not good enough.” If you were human you’d be sick to your stomach right now. What Mark’s offering you, if he were anyone else you would take the deal, but Mark Lee was a good man when you met him; he was cute and innocent, a pure soul that you wanted to protect so you left for his own good. You couldn’t make him pay the price of being with you.

No, Mark shakes his head in denial and desperation. He comes close to you again, standing just an inch away from you, close enough that both of you can feel each other, but not close enough that any part of you is actually touching.

“Just touch me, please.” Mark pleads. “I miss your touch. The way you made me feel, I’ve been chasing that high for months, and nothing compares. Please.”

You want to touch him. You really, really do.

With a groan of frustration, you cup Mark’s face in your hands. “I’m going to be the death of you,” you tell him in the moment before your lips meet his.

The kiss is absolutely intoxicating. Mark moans and wraps around you, moving backwards toward his bed, limbs tangling together as you both collapse onto his sheets. You pin him beneath you, kissing the air from his lungs, your fingers sliding down the front of his shirt, buttons falling open just at your touch. And when your fingertips move a bit lower, grazing the front of his pants, you find that he’s devastatingly hard.

He rolls his hips up against your hand, groaning into the kiss, whimpering delightfully when you squeeze his erection.

You sit up on him, and Mark follows, needy for your kiss. His mouth crashes against yours, sharp and hot. You push his shirt off his shoulders, and you let him roll you under him, your body nestled into his sheets as Mark unbuttons his fancy slacks, pushing them down enough that you can see his cock pop out.

You grab onto the edges of his pants, dragging him forward up your body, and you all but throw your mouth onto his cock.

Much like the last time, Mark seems caught off guard by the way you make him feel. He moans loudly, fingers knotting in your hair. But unlike the last time, he quickly recovers, seems to know what to do to get exactly what he wants, using his hands in your hair to direct your mouth.

When you can see it in his face that he’s enjoying this a bit too much, you pull off, using your hand on him instead, looking up at him as you jerk him off over your chest.

“Mmm, fuck,” Mark moans, a hand running over his chest and down his abs. “No one makes me feel this good. Not with anything they’ve done to me.” He thrusts forward into your hand. “I need to feel you around me.”

You nod. You want it too. You’re ready for him, and he’s clearly more than ready for you. Mark quickly disposes of his pants, climbing back on the bed, sinking in to kiss you again, and you fall into the kiss, more intoxicating than anything you’ve ever felt. With a hand to his chest, you press Mark onto his back, and you climb over him, straddling his thighs.

You don’t break the kiss, just reach down as you move forward to situate yourself over him. Teasing the head of his erection against your wet, dripping entrance, Mark whines, shifting his hips up eagerly. “Patience,” you murmur, and you leave his lips behind to kiss down his throat, down the center of his chest, and you glance up at him as you allow his tip to slide inside you just as you circle your tongue on one of his nipples.

He bucks up, wanting to bury himself inside you, but you’ve already pulled away again.

“Thought you said you’d know what to do now?” You ask, flicking your tongue over his pebbled nipple. “When are you going to prove that? Because from where I’m sitting--” you sit upright, right down on him so his erection is trapped between his abdomen and your wet heat, “--you’re still the innocent boy who doesn’t now how to fuck me.”

You’re not entirely sure how he does it, flipping from submissive boy trapped beneath you to you suddenly being on your back with Mark’s mouth ravaging your throat, and his cock rutting between your legs, still not inside you, but now it’s you who groans at the tease. His erection glides over your clit, and each time you feel a zip of pleasure.

You grip at his arms, fingers digging into muscle, and then Mark’s cock slips and on the next thrust, he fucks right into you.

Both of you moan as he sinks inside you, his teeth catch at your throat, instantly soothed again by his lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mark mumbles the words against your skin. “You’re so soft, warm. Heavenly.” He buries his face in your neck, his entire body presses against yours--chest and hip, legs tangled together as he shallowly fucks into you while sucking at your throat.

This is intimate and strange and fascinating and fantastic. Your usual partners are just quick fucks that you feed off of their sexual energy and then you leave. It’s not intimate at all, no matter how many times you’d fucked them, there was no intimacy--rarely were attempts made by them, and never by you--but here you can’t get enough of this. You just want Mark closer until you can’t feel where your form ends and Mark begins.

Your fingernails scrape the back of his neck, twisting in his hair as you bring his busy lips from your throat to your lips, needing to satiate the hunger.

This is pure lust, addiction to him and his addiction to you.

You’re not even feeding off the sexual energy of this intercourse, just existing in the moment for the carnality of it all.

Mark’s thrusts grow bigger, deeper, more powerful, and you wrestle with him, letting him stay on top until suddenly you want him beneath you. You want to fuck him, to ride him, and that lasts for a bit until you’re on your belly pressed into the bed, Mark thrusting into you from behind with his lips against your cheek as he murmurs praises. There’s teeth and nails, Mark’s hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. He shivers in delight when you press him again beneath you, circling your hips on his cock, tracing your fingers over the raised pink lines from your nails down his chest.

He looks high, his pupils wide, his skin flushed, and he’s alive with a glowing energy that calls out to you, begging you to drink it in. But you don’t want that here. You just want this, to feel a part of this, to make him feel the best you can because experiencing sex like this with Mark where you’re not using your demon powers feels absolutely insane, makes you feel even better than when you do answer that call, and drink off the energy of your partner.

His hand snaps against your ass, and you realize you’ve just been sitting there, gazing down at him in admiration. “Move, baby.” And he does it again.

“Fuck, Mark. Do you go to confession and tell the priest that you dream about getting fucked by a demon like this?” You roll your hips, sinking forward until your lips are beside his ear. “Do you confess your sins. Forgive me, Father, but I let a demon into my life. She fucked me so good I stopped being a priest because her pussy is worth it.”

Mark moans.

“Forgive me, Father, but when I was a priest, she made me cum for her in the Church, on holy ground.” You squeeze around his cock, and he lets out a beautiful sound. “Mmm, forgive me, Mark, but I think no amount of confession will make up for sinning like this, loving every single thing we’re doing right now.”

“Holy--!” Mark’s voice cuts off as you sit up, curling your delicate fingers around his throat. His eyes roll back from the pleasure, and you just smile down at him, applying pressure to his throat and circling your other thumb around his nipple. He blinks and looks up at you, his mouth hanging open in soundless awe and appreciation, his eyes glowing with lust and something else. You just want to make him feel good.

You press forward, unable to hold back, needing to feel his lips on yours as you ride him, as you feel that pleasure seeping through your body, a warm silvery-golden glow as your toes curl and your body goes warm and light and fuzzy.

Mark’s hands are on you -- on your hips and your hands and in your hair and on your thighs, touching you all over, pressing you down as he bucks up into you, and then he’s cumming and it feels so good too, better than when the others have done it.

You keep kissing him, rolling your hips down on him, wanting to keep this feeling going. It’s one you’ve never truly felt before.

But eventually it must end, and you roll off to the side, and Mark follows, not wanting to let you get too far. He tucks his face against your neck, breath hot and damp on your skin, and his thigh slips comfortably between yours. You feel sticky and sweaty all over in places you didn’t know you could be sweaty, and you feel like you need to catch your breath.

Mark drops a singular tiny kiss to the center of your chest, and then he pulls back, his head resting on one side of the pillow, yours on the other, only a few bare inches between the tips of your noses. You’ve never been this close to a human before (on multiple levels) and you don’t pull back.

“I made a deal with a demon,” Mark whispers, and he uses a finger to brush back a section of sweaty hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Or at least, I meant to. Don’t leave me.”

“Mark, I won’t kill you.” You tell him, absolutely refusing to let this go where he seems to carelessly want it to go.

His fingers tighten in your hair. “Then give it up. I want you. All the time. And it’s not just because you’re a succubus. I know that’s part of the enchantment, I completely understand that, but I know in a deeper place in my heart that I crave you in a way that’s separate from your crazy, mystical demon powers, okay? Give it up.”

You stare into his eyes, his wide and innocent and hopeful eyes. You want to do it for him. You want to give Mark whatever he asks for. But... “I can’t. This is who I am, I can’t just give up being a succubus. It’s what I was brought into existence to be.”

Mark shakes his head. “I refuse to believe that. You’re a demon, but what are demons except fallen angels.” His thumb strokes over your cheek. “And I see an angel when I look at you.”

You roll your eyes and push his hand away. You sit up, ready to leave his bed, to flee into the unknown from him. But Mark’s fingers circle tightly around your wrist.

“I know how to summon you, I’ll just bring you back,” he says.

“And if I asked you not to?” You flex your wrist, testing his hold. “If I told you that I truly wanted you to leave me alone. What then?”

Mark’s hand falls away and he closes his eyes, turning onto his back to face the ceiling. “I would leave you alone. I would wish I could have convinced you to stay. Because I can see that you want to be here as much as I want you to stay.” He opens his eyes, looking right at you. “You gave me your name before you left, you opened this path for me to find you again, so you must have wanted me to, right?”

Right.

“So stay. I’m a theological man, and I’ve done my research into demonology and the supernatural, into good and evil. You think you’re just a demon, but I think you’re an angel, and somewhere in between where you stand and where I stand is a happy medium, a place where you and I can have this--” he gestures between your two bare bodies in his bed “--without you being afraid of destroying my soul.”

This is absolutely ridiculous.

You want it more than you can explain.

“Make a deal with me, demon.” Mark says, taking your hand in his, guiding it to his chest. He presses your palm flat over his heartbeat. “Stay with me, and I’ll help you become the angel that I know you are.”

This story began with a demon set on destroying her sexual victims and with a priest certain of his fate as a celibate holy man, and now you’re here. Both of you have already come so far from where you began.

You take Mark’s hand, guiding it so his palm lays over where your heart would be.

“The deal is true.” You tell him, and Mark gazes into your eyes as he repeats those words back to you, and just like that a bond is formed, a pact made, and you sink down against him, pressing your cheek to his chest as his arms wrap around you.

And this time you stay.

a/n: oops, I knew as soon as I first read this message that it was probably going to end up as a drabble, but damn I didn’t think I’d make it this long lol

If you liked it please reblog, like, comment. If you’re into the corruption of religious figures thing, definitely also check out Righteous a 5-part series by the wonderful @skzctnightnight it’s not got demons but it does have seminarian student Mark being tempted by the reader and it’s very hot and good

#mark smut #mark lee #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut

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imekitty · 4 years ago

Note

Each and every hair that Danny sheds, turns white.

Maddie pulled the lint trap out of the dryer to empty it but paused when she noticed bits and specks of it glowing.

She pinched at one of the glowing parts and rubbed it between her fingers.

A hair. A single white hair just a few inches long.

Maddie combed through the rest of the lint and picked out a couple more strands of glowing white hair. She sealed them in a zippered storage bag and brought it into the kitchen.

“Jack? Have you seen strands of white hair around the house?”

Jack held the fridge door open and stared intently at the options on the shelves. “White? You mean grey? I’ve been losing a little more hair than usual lately, I guess.”

“No, it’s not yours.”

“Oh, babe.” Jack turned back to her with a frown. “They’re not yours, are they? Hey, middle age, you know I’m there with you—”

Maddie scowled, her cheeks flushing. “No, Jack. They’re not mine either.”

“Oh.” Jack blinked. “Uh, sorry. What are we talking about?”

“This.” Maddie held up the bag of white hair. “I found them when I was doing laundry.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “They’re glowing. White ghost fur?”

“No, it’s not fur. It’s definitely hair.”

“Really?” Jack took the bag from her and held it close to his face. He reached inside and pulled out a single strand, squinting in inspection. “You’re right. But I’m not seeing a follicle. Might’ve been destroyed in the wash if it was ever there at all.” He placed the hair back in the bag. “Might be tough to get a good DNA sample.”

“Maybe there’s more around the house.” Maddie held a fist to her chin and looked out at the living room. “On clothes or blankets or even just in the carpet.”

“Let’s be on the lookout for more. If there’s a ghost hanging out in our house, we’ll find it.” Jack bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m just surprised our ghost sensors haven’t detected anything.”

Maddie crossed her arms and tapped her boot against the floor. She raised her eyes as a thought struck her. “Phantom.”

“What about him?” asked Jack.

“Phantom never triggers our ghost sensors for some reason,” said Maddie, her tone rising, pace quickening. “And he knows where we live. And we’ve seen him holding one of our Thermoses or other inventions multiple times. Obviously he’s been sneaking into our house and stealing things.” She held up the bag. “And he has white hair about this length! It’s got to be his.”

Jack smirked. “You’ve got Phantom on the brain again, don’t you?”

“But doesn’t it make sense?” asked Maddie.

“We’ll need to find a strand of hair with a follicle on it to find out for sure.” Jack clenched a fist. “But if it is him, that punk ghost can’t outrun us forever.”

Later that evening, after a healthy meal Maddie made sure was not contaminated with any ectoplasm this time, the whole family watched a movie together in the living room.

“I knew that was going to happen,” said Jack. “I told you, remember?”

“But it doesn’t even make sense,” said Jazz. “That could never happen in real life.”

Jack and Jazz proceeded to debate and criticize the movie as they so often did. Maddie smiled at Danny, who was sitting next to her but had fallen asleep some time ago. His head lay back against the sofa, his mouth open slightly.

She brushed a few unruly bangs off his forehead, bangs that really needed a trim. He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, groaning slightly when he caught her looking at him.

“You’re such a light sleeper,” teased Maddie. “Are you tired?”

Danny mumbled a reply and groggily blinked.

“If you did your homework earlier, you wouldn’t need to stay up so late finishing it,” said Maddie.

Danny leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I did some of it during lunch today.”

“That’s good to hear,” said Maddie.

Jack and Jazz were still picking apart some trivial detail from the movie. Maddie started rubbing and scratching Danny’s back.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tiny light.

Maddie turned to inspect. She plucked a strand of glowing white hair from off the couch behind Danny and held it close to her face.

How long had it been here?

Didn’t matter. The important thing was this one had a follicle.

Maddie closed her fingers over the hair and stood. All heads turned to her.

“I’ll be back.” Maddie walked to the door leading down to the lab. “You don’t need to pause it for me.”

At her work station, Maddie cleaned the hair, cut off the fragment she needed, and placed it in an extraction reagent to be digested. She had done this so many times before but this time seemed to be taking forever.

Heavy footsteps fell on the basement lab stairs. Maddie did not need to turn to know who it was.

“What’s going on, Mads?” asked Jack, coming up behind her.

“I found a white ghost hair with a root on the couch.” Maddie gestured to the equipment at her station. “It’s incubating right now.”

Jack grinned. “Really? Talk about luck!”

Maddie groaned and leaned over the counter. “I just wish the extraction process didn’t take so long.”

Jack tugged on her arm. “We’ll come back later when the kids are in bed. We’re gonna analyze that sucker tonight and figure out which ghost it belongs to!”

“It has to be Phantom,” said Maddie, allowing Jack to drag her out of the lab. “Who else could it be?”

Late that night, long after they made sure their kids were in bed, Maddie and Jack determined the final sequencing results from their DNA extraction and analysis.

Jack yawned and checked the clock in the lab. “I can’t believe it’s three already. I’m beat.”

Maddie bounced lightly on her toes. “Oh, I’m not. I am ready.”

They compared the DNA sequencing from the hair sample to a sequencing they had already obtained from Phantom several months prior.

“It’s a match,” said Jack. “You were right. It’s Phantom’s hair.”

Maddie clutched the printed results in her hands, crumpling the sheet slightly. “I knew it! He’s been coming into our house to steal our inventions!”

“And sit on our couch apparently,” said Jack. “Maybe he likes our Netflix subscription.”

“We’ll need to set up cameras.” Maddie began pacing the lab. “We’ll just tell the kids it’s only for a little while. Or we don’t have to tell them; they’d never know.”

“And maybe some laser sensors that only ghosts can trip,” suggested Jack. “Worth a try even if our other sensors never pick him up.”

Maddie grinned at him. “If Phantom wants to be in our house so bad, we might as well make our lab his permanent residence.”

Over the next couple weeks, Maddie studied footage from the interior cameras installed in the house and checked the logs for the laser sensors. But there were no hits, no glimpses, no Phantom.

Saturday afternoon, Maddie drove toward her favorite hair salon with Danny in the passenger seat. She had found several more strands of Phantom’s hair around the house just that morning, but still no sign of Phantom when she checked the camera recordings.

She stared out at the traffic, her head feeling heavy and dull.

“What’s wrong?” asked Danny.

Maddie pulled up to a red light and turned to look at him. The tips of his bangs collided with his eyelashes.

“Nothing,” she said. “I just waited way too long to schedule your haircut.”

She brushed his hair out of his eyes. Danny looked annoyed but smiled anyway.

Inside the salon, the stylist gushed over how thick Danny’s hair was before taking him to the shampoo bowls in the back. Maddie sat in the waiting area nearby and checked the camera feeds and sensor logs on her phone. Jazz was doing yoga stretches in the living room. Jack was rummaging through the pantry, probably looking for the last ounce of fudge he had forgotten he already ate.

The stylist returned with Danny and guided him into a chair, wrapping a cape around his shoulders. Maddie watched from a distance for a moment before returning to the camera feeds.

Phantom had to be somewhere in the house. He just had to be. Why else would his hair keep showing up?

“What is this?” asked the stylist, holding up a pair of scissors. “Is this glitter on your shoulders?”

Maddie looked over at Danny and the stylist. Something was indeed shimmering on his cape, small specks of light.

“It’s on the floor too.” The stylist picked up a shining piece. “No, wait, I just cut this off. This is your hair—”

Maddie marched over, her eyes darting from Danny’s shoulders to the floor. Small pieces of the same white hair she had been seeing for weeks were flecked all over his cape.

Danny caught her eye and grimaced. “Mom, it’s not what you—”

She tore the cape off him and dragged him out of the salon by the wrist. Danny pleaded and whined and begged her to listen but Maddie did not relent.

Out in the parking lot, she turned around to face him, still holding his wrist. The muscles in Danny’s jaw looked tight as his lips twitched.

“Mom.” He held up a palm. “Please listen to me.”

Maddie reached forward and plucked a hair from his head. Danny yelped and rubbed the area with his free hand.

Maddie watched as the dark strand turned white in her fingers, lighting up with a ghostly aura.

She stared at the hair for some time, then stared at Danny. His face was pale.

She held the spectral hair up between them. Her hand shook, her whole body shivered.

“I’m listening.”

Follow-up

#danny phantom #maddie fenton #danny fenton #imekitty writes #prompt writing #haddley

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wing-ed-thing · 4 years ago

Text

Click (Part III: Neji)

Synopsis: You invited everyone out to dinner. You also audibly clicked. People had opinions about this

Word Count: 1,743

Warnings: Mild Bullying, Fem!Reader

Part I: Shikamaru, Part II: Shino, Part III: Neji, Part IV: Rock Lee , Part V: Naruto, Part VI: Kiba, FINALE, The Message in Click

Notes: While these can be read as oneshots, all three parts do interweave. To get all the jokes and references, do read the Shikamaru and Shino parts that have already been posted. Otherwise, enjoy!

You were always more of Hinata’s friend than Neji’s and Neji preferred it that way. You were a stark contrast compared to the infamously a severe man of few words. But even so, Neji truly never minded your presence; it was just simply one that he never particularly preferred. So when you let yourself into the Hyūga compound’s courtyard to ask him and Hinata for dinner, Neji became uncharacteristically taken aback.

“Well, I know it’s short notice, but I’m inviting everyone out for dinner tonight. My treat!” You chirped. “I was hoping you’d join me.”

Neji’s lips formed a tight line as he shifted his gaze to Hinata. Social engagements were never Neji’s forte, but he was in enough of an agreeable mood to leave the decision up to Hinata. You rocked on your heels expectantly in front of her.

“Maybe?” Hinata squeaked out and you beamed brightly, clicking as you did so. Neji shook his head at your reaction to the noncommittal response. How you could ever find enough positivity to smile about in such a weak answer made him wonder.

“Well if you can make it, it’ll be at Shushu-ya. Seven o’clock, okay?”

You left as quickly as you came and Neji continued training with Hinata. But not too long after you left, they were interrupted once more.

Kiba hurried into the courtyard with Shino not too far behind. Hinata interlocked her fingers behind her head as she tried to catch her breath again. Neji gave her modest praise for her work and decided to end training for the day given their many interruptions. Hinata’s frosted-over eyes widened with joy as she smiled at her teammates.

“Hey, Hyūga twins!” Kiba pointed finger guns at the two nobles. Hinata let out a courteous laugh. Neji crossed his arms over his chest, unamused. “Are you coming with us to Yakiniku tonight?”

Hinata looked down.

“Yes, of course.” She spoke quietly. Neji took a quick glance between the members of Team Eight. He cocked a brow.

“Don’t you mean Shus-”

“Nope!” Kiba interjected. He locked eyes with the eldest Hyūga. “Yakiniku.”

Neji let out a sharp exhale, a hand coming up to his temple. He weighed the consequences of challenging Kiba, but ultimately decided to keep quiet. If there was a problem, you would handle it, You were your own adult. You were a competent ninja. And most of all you were more Hinata’s friend so it wasn’t like he cared.

***

Neji came through the doors to Yakiniku Q first. The whole team had arrived a half hour early, because when Rock Lee is early, his whole team is early. Lee bolted through the entrance to a table he deemed long enough for everyone. Tenten sighed to herself and sat down at the opposite end. Neji ordered a round of tea and took his place near the weapons user.

He sat, legs crossed, in his quiet corner as he sipped his tea. The bell on the door rang signaling three new arrivals. Neji silently observed the room as it began to fill. Hinata and Shino greeted him quietly and took their seats at his end of the table. Another ring and Sakura and Sai joined. Sakura took it upon herself to order a few plates to grill. With each jingle of the bell above the door, he expected you. Neji shook his head. He inwardly scolded himself for mixing your clicking up with the chime. Surely, that was the reason.

He found himself studying Shino in order to take his mind off of you. Shino looked lost as he helplessly scanned the room. The bowl of rice in front of him remained untouched. His eyes settled on the meat grilling of the table. Shino lifted a hand to his chin before he abruptly stood. Neji took a sip of his tea.

His sharp eyes followed Shino as he left the table. Kiba came in front, stopping his teammate with a hand to the chest.

“I know what you did.” Neji read on Shino’s lips.

Neji exhaled sharply to himself, the pieces coming together in his head. He diverted his attention from the rest of the exchange and turned to his own bowl of rice. The bell rang out and Team Ten arrived. Shikamaru assumed Shino’s old seat.

“So,” Hinata grasped her tea with both hands. “Shikamaru how was your day?”

Shikamaru didn’t answer. Instead, he appeared as lost in his rice as Shino had been. Hinata let out a nervous laugh as the group at the end of the table began to stare at Shikamaru.

“His head’s been up in the clouds all day, don’t mind him.” Ino’s voice briefly snapped Shikamaru out of his thoughts. He grunted and a laugh went around the table. Neji studied him out of the corner of his eye.

“Hinata asked how your day was.” Sai leaned to tell him. His face remained stoic, but a sparkle of amusement shone in his eyes.

“Ah, sorry,” Shikamaru drawled, “I’ve been alright.”

With that, the conversation quickly moved on. Neji plucked a few pieces of meat from the grill. He brought his chapsticks to his lips, but paused. A sinking feeling gnawed at his core. The image of your chiper face asking him and Hinata to dinner flashed across his memory. The barbecue lowered onto the pillow of rice in his bowl.

“Wait.” Shikamaru’s head snapped up. Neji looked away, bringing a slice of meat to his mouth. He had every intention of ignoring whatever it was the Shikamaru was going to say, but what he said next made Neji stop mid-chew. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

As soon as the words left his lips, Shikamaru was out the door. The table fell silent.

Neji brought a hand up to his temple. All talk of you ceased after that, but Neji couldn’t help the pang of guilt that reverberated in his chest. The feeling ate at him and continued to eat away at him until the group decided that they were full and began to discuss the next thing they wanted to do that night. The incomplete Konoha Twelve poured out of Yakiniku, gabbering about some odd activity that Neji didn’t bother catching.

“You are not coming with us?” Lee questioned.

“No, thank you. I’ll be turning in.” The members of the group who had not already gone ahead cooed in disappointment, but didn’t push the Hyūga further.

Neji went his separate way, fully intending to head straight back to the compound. But he once again felt that pang. He stopped in the middle of the street. Neji frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose. With a huff, he turned on his heel. He was off to find you.

***

Neji found you standing with Shikamaru outside. Shikamaru had offered to walk you home, but you politely declined. He had already done so much for you and you didn’t want to put him out. Shikamaru opened his mouth just to argue with you when Neji appeared. You looked over your shoulder.

“Oh Neji! I’m sorry, you just missed dinner.” Your features drooped in genuine apology. Shikamaru gave the Jounin a pointed look. Neji returned with a look of subtle understanding.

“I apologize that I could not make it earlier.” He opted. He gulped before clearing his throat. “Do you mind if I steal you?”

“I mean, we were just about done so I don’t see why not.” You smiled up at Shikamaru who allowed the corners of his lips to upturn.

“I should be going anyway.”

“Thank you for everything, Shika!” You smiled. Looking down at your face, Shikamaru couldn’t help but return your expression. His eyes traveled from yours to Neji and the pleasantness retreated from his features. He gave the other Jounin a look of warning.

“Of course. Happy Birthday.” He told you, gaze locked with Neji.

You didn’t notice the emphasis as you waved your friend off. Instead, you turned back to Neji. You beamed at him as he inspected you and once again, Neji wondered to himself. He scowled at your batted eyelashes. You were ditched by your friends on your birthday but you still stood in front of him with a smile.

Neji took a step closer. You flinched as his hands reached up around your head. He grasped your hitai-ate and pulled it down over your eyes.

“Um… Neji?” You peaked out from under the thin sheet of metal.

“I have a surprise for you, do you want it or not?” He glanced down. Neji sighed. “I have something that I wish to show you if you would let me.”

You nodded and let him tighten the hitai-ate around your eyes.

Neji led you down the street. Your vision was pitch black beneath the blindfold. You stumbled, only to be caught by a sturdy set of hands. Neji laced his fingers around yours. You felt him gingerly wrap his arm around your shoulder as he guided you. The two of you continued on.

You faltered when you stepped off the pavement. The steps you took were careful but Neji gave you all the patience you needed. Neji stopped you and went around behind you to untie your forehead protector. As it gradually slipped off, Neji’s surprise was revealed to you.

“The Hyūga clan’s secret garden,” He told you. Your hitai-ate came to hang around your neck. “These are sacred grounds upheld by Hyūgas for generations.”

The azaleas were in full bloom. Hues of red, pink and white littered landscape in between stone fixtures. Petals flurried in the wind, wrapping around the flaps of your qipao. You wandered deeper into the garden in awe. The garden looked like a dream. You ran up to the bridge that arched over the small pond. A wisteria vine wrapped itself around the handrails. You looked out over the lotuses that bloomed in the water. Neji stood next to you as you gazed out at the view.

“Do you enjoy the garden?” You turned to him, eyes sparkling. You clicked.

“Yes! I love it.” You turned back to the dancing petals in the wind.

“Well, good.” Neji straightened his posture. “You’re always so excitable. Clicking at everything you might as well have something worth the excitement.” He scoffed. “I don’t quite understand it.” You giggled as the Hyūga rolled his eyes. He glanced down at you, frowning. “See? This is exactly-”

“Neji?” He stared into your wide, joyful eyes.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

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sgtjbbhasmyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter One

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2101

Chapter Warning: Bad Language Words, tiny bit of angst

A/N: I started this on AO3 awhile ago. Now that I have a blog dedicated primarily to just Marvel/Bucky, I thought I’d add it here, too. Enjoy!

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

Bucky heard his phone buzz as he was tugging a butter-soft tee over his head. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand next to his bed as he worked his arms into their respective holes.

9:36

Steve was long in bed already, so the text most likely wasn’t from him. Sam was on a me me kick-- No, what did he call them? Memes!-- of a disgruntled cat which he swore reminded him of the super soldier. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were him. Or possibly Nat. She picked up the new issue of Guns & Ammo the other day and was sending him pictures of a Mossberg MC1sc 9mm she was drooling over.

Smoothing the body of the shirt over his torso, Bucky ambled over to his bed. He snatched up the phone from the navy blue comforter and flipped it over. To his amazement, the text wasn’t from Sam or Nat. Or even Steve.

(917) 460-5480 work thing boring af. kinda tied one on. might be late meeting you tomorrow

He blinked several times at the message, uncertain how to respond. It was a wrong number, right? Bucky hadn’t made plans with anyone for tomorrow that he could remember. Plus, everyone he knew had the same work thing. And it was rarely boring.

Definitely a wrong number.

He set the phone down near the clock, choosing to ignore the text. Hopefully, whoever this person was, figured out quickly they were texting the wrong number and moved on.

Bucky pulled back the covers before climbing into bed. His body melted into the mattress, muscles relaxing for the first time since breakfast. Training had been non-stop all day today. It felt good to just be, for once.

He grabbed the book he was reading off the nightstand and opened it to the spot he left off. He cleared his mind, as best he could, and concentrated on the words on the page.

A few pages in, his phone vibrated alive again. Another text message.

(917) 460-5480 sis dont be mad youd be drinking too if you had to sit thru one of these business dinners

Bucky sighed. He had hoped his radio silence would have clued this person into their mistake. Wishful thinking. Before he could punch out a reply, another text came through.

(917) 460-5480 timmons is droning on about this new client. kill me now

He quickly typed out a reply:

(917) 308-3117 I think you sent this to me by mistake.

Bucky watched the text indicator pulse as this unknown person worked out their response.

(917) 460-5480 haha very funny sis

Bucky huffed at this person’s disbelief, thumbs working on typing out his next message.

(917) 308-3117 I’m not trying to be funny. I can’t be someone’s sister when I’m a man.

He set the phone down on the nightstand again, hoping this person finally took a hint. He opened his book back up to the current page, taking a deep breath.

The room’s silence was broken again by the loud thrumming of his phone skittering across the surface of the black wood veneer.

(917) 460-5480 how does kevin feel about this so close to the wedding???

(917)460-5480 will you still need a wedding dress or will you just get a tux???

(917) 460-5480 am i still your maid of honor???

Bucky chuckled at this girl (no, young woman) asking the essential questions.

(917) 308-3117 Your sister did not get a sex change. Yes, she will still need a wedding dress. Yes, you are still her maid of honor. Like I said before, wrong number.

An almost immediate reply came through.

(917) 460-5480 prove it

Bucky grew slightly irritated at the insinuation. Why couldn’t she take his word for it? He exhaled loudly through his nose.

(917) 308-3117 How?

A few moments passed before the device juddered in the palm of his large hand.

(917) 460-5480 selfie

Bucky blanched at the request. He could feel the color drain from his face, only to immediately heat with a blush. A selfie? That is the last thing he wanted to do.

Although he’d been exonerated for his crimes as The Winter Soldier, he still knew about the dislike people felt about him as a person, in general. They couldn’t get past the brainwashing or other persona. God knows he still struggled with it.

He couldn’t go broadcasting his face through texts to a stranger. What if she was one of those who didn’t understand he had no say in what he did or what happened to him under Hydra’s control?

What if he ignored the solicitation? He could do that. Maybe even turn off his phone.

She did seem the type to be very persistent until she got what she wanted.

True to form, another text rang through.

(917) 460-5480 i will keep texting until i see your manly face

One corner of his lips quirked higher. Yup, persistent.

He navigated to the camera app on his phone and switched it to selfie mode. He stared at the damp locks falling to his shoulders. His beard would require a trim soon, but it wasn’t scraggly. Luckily, he’d had the hindsight to shave his neckbeard in the shower earlier.

Was he considering this? Some girl says jump, and he asks how high?

He combed metal fingers through his hair, blowing out a breath.

(917) 460-5480 im waiting

Bucky growled at the text, running a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. Give me a second,” he said to his phone. He held it up to head height, half an arm’s length away.

Click!

He previewed the picture, assuring himself it didn’t reveal too much. It was, somehow, off-center, containing a bearded chin and half a smirked mouth, one nostril, and a half-lidded eye.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bucky pulled the messaging app back up and then sent off the picture. He tossed the phone aside, not wanting to watch the taunting blinking dots as he waited for a reply.

The picture was barely recognizable, but someone like Steve or Nat could tell it was him. It would be okay. No one would know.

His phone vibrated violently near him on the bed. Bucky cautiously plucked the device up, debating whether he wanted to read her reply. What if it said, “Holy shit! You’re The Winter Soldier!”? The hope of this woman thinking he was just some regular guy knotted up his stomach. He didn’t know why he cared so much about whether this stranger thought he was The Soldier or not. He had no control over who believed the lies perpetrated as truth through the media. He could only wish for the best.

He blew out the breath he was holding in and eyed the phone’s screen.

(917) 460-5480 is it fair to say men shouldnt be allowed to have long eyelashes??

Bucky laughed and immediately thought of poor Steve.

(917) 308-3117 You should see my buddy’s. The girls swoon and complain at the same time.

He quickly added to the message thread:

(917) 308-3117 Am I correct to assume you believe I’m a man and not your sister?

The response was swift.

(917) 460-5480 oh shit ur not my sister

(917) 460-5480 this isnt 9173083447?

Bucky laughed again, the tension in his chest slowly unfurling.

(917) 308-3117 Unfortunately for you-- no.

(917) 460-5480 ugh im such an idiot sorry for the shit i said

(917) 308-3117 Don’t worry about it. I had a good laugh at your expense.

(917) 460-5480 oh god now i feel like a bigger ass

Bucky suddenly felt like backpedaling. He hadn’t meant for her to feel bad about her mistake. It was cute in a roundabout way.

(917) 308-3117 Please don’t be embarrassed. It was the highlight of my night.

(917) 460-5480 me forcing u to prove ur a man was the best part of ur night??

Bucky thought for a moment. Was it the best part? The training sessions had become monotonous lately, even with the new agents. The team hadn’t been on any missions in a few weeks, so it was pretty accurate to say he was bored around the compound.

(917) 308-3117 I suppose it was. Work’s been a little slow, and there’s only so much training you can do before it becomes tedious.

(917) 460-5480 training? r u in the military? ooh, r u an athlete??

A laugh bubbled up from his chest. It was comical to see her try to guess his profession. His selfie hadn’t announced who he was to her after all.

(917) 308-3117 Something like that.

(917) 460-5480 so mysterious! r u some assassin who needs to keep his identity secret? is that y ur selfie only showed a quarter of ur face??

He paled at the implication. Maybe she did know and was yanking his chain. How did he block numbers again?

Another text came through from the mystery woman:

(917) 460-5480 not that i mind u have a luscious mouth

Bucky guffawed at the comment as flames rose beneath the skin of his cheeks. He hadn’t remembered blushing this much in such a short amount of time in decades.

(917) 308-3117 How much have you had to drink tonight, doll?

(917) 460-5480 doll?? what r u my grandpa??

He chuckled again. God, he was old enough and then some.

(917) 460-5480 enough to not want to shoot my brains out but not enough to know this dinner isnt a party

(917) 308-3117 Maybe you should get back to your dinner? I don’t want to get you into trouble.

He regretted the text the second he pressed send. Was he trying to get rid of her? No. Or was he looking out for her? This person he knew nothing about. She was more entertaining than the recurring nightmare he’d been having for the last week, that's for sure. He'd cling to this unknown to avoid slipping into that black abyss.

(917) 460-5480 aww does the military-trained assassin athlete mchottie not want to talk with me anymore?? 🙁

(917) 308-3117 No!! I’m honestly concerned you’ll be reprimanded if you pay more attention to your phone than Timmons.

The last thing Bucky needed was to feel more guilt, especially if it was at the expense of someone’s livelihood. His shoulders were already heavy enough.

(917) 460-5480 thats sweet but dont worry ur pretty little head over me timmons wouldnt last a day w/o me

(917) 460-5480 timmons may be the boss but i run that office

He simpered at her swagger. He could only imagine what kind of office she worked in because, again, a total stranger. Did he want to get to know her more, or was this a one and done thing? Would she wake up tomorrow and want to continue the conversation or blow him off for the drunken mistake her first text had been?

Bucky stared at his phone for several more minutes, pondering precisely what he was doing and what his expectations of the night were. It’s not like he was going to meet her in person, right? Was he that delusional? He was an Avenger now. He didn’t get a social life. Not that he had one before but still.

He was startled from his reverie as the phone shook in his hand.

(917) 460-5480 did i scare you away??

(917) 308-3117 No. Just thinking about tomorrow.

(917) 460-5480 shit a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie must have a lot to prepare for mentally ill let u get ur rest

He smiled at the gesture. If only she knew.

(917) 308-3117 Send me a text when you get home. I want to make sure you arrived okay.

(917) 460-5480 such a gentleman! i don’t want to wake u if ur asleep tho

(917) 308-3117 I doubt I’ll be sleeping, but it’ll help ease my mind.

(917) 460-5480 alright ill shoot a text ttfn

(917) 308-3117 ttfn?

(917) 460-5480 ta ta for now god u r a grandpa

(917) 308-3117 Yeah, yeah

Bucky’s mouth split into yet, another grin as he set his phone down once again on the nightstand. He picked up his discarded book and found his place on the page. After a few minutes of re-reading the same paragraph over and over, he slipped the bookmark into the gutter of the book. His mind was too preoccupied with the thought of some random girl in the city at a boring work dinner. He realized he hadn’t stopped smiling since they temporarily said goodbye.

Maybe there was a good chance this conversation would carry into tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWO

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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angrylittletrashpanda · 3 years ago

Text

What if Locke snuck into Madoc’s bedroom instead of Taryn’s

Locke felt a chill running down his spine. After all sneaking into Grand General’s stronghold without getting caught is no mean feat! Stars flickered, the sweet scent of roses was floating in the air. The breeze was as warm and moist as sin. That night the boy turn into a brave knight from a ballad, a fearless knight going to save a fair maiden from the clutches of a genuine monster. Locke was definitely no fighter, so instead of sword he wielded just a beautiful lyre. Wasn’t it a weapon enough to conquer the girl’s heart and pluck the red flower of her virginity?

The lad looked up and grinned, noticing the balcony door was open. Locke climbed a blooming apple tree, hopped on the balcony and snuck into the spacious bedroom. Liriope’s son raised his brows, pretty surprised with severity of the chamber he found himself in. How could ladylike, gentle Taryn live in this cell, lacking in any decorations, except from banners and two sabers on the wall? There were a very few pieces furniture in the chamber – only a carved wooden closet, a bedside table, a massive mahogany desk and a chair that looked pretty uncomfortable. In the middle of the room there was, four-poster canopy bed. Locke looked again at the crossed sabers. It isn’t Taryn’s room! – He realized. It’s Jude’s! He couldn’t have committed a luckiest mistake! The boy smiled to himself, took the lyre off his back and sat on a wooden chair. Yes, it actually was extremely uncomfortable. That was Jude all over! Beautiful, full-figured Jude, anxious to become a knight and willing to get used to harsh conditions. Locke looked at the bed with amused indulgence. He wouldn’t have guessed dainty Jude snores so loudly. Liriope’s son uttered a mirthful laughter then hit the strings with his fingertips and began to sing.

Oh lady fair, daughter of clay

I came to wash your tears away

A slave enthralled with your bright eyes

Effulgent lips and well – shaped thighs.

I came to sweeten this lonely night

Aching to hear your lovesome sighs

Leaving behind all of my shame

I came to taste you, oh my flame.

The canopy billowed, Locke shivered with excitement. Just a little while and he’ll have one of Grand General’s precious daughters in his arms. The boy was glad that instead adorable mellow Taryn he would taste fierce, hard-hitting Jude, as tart as sour cherries. What a lucky mistake – Locke thought once again. He couldn’t have been more wrong!

From behind the curtains emerged a tall man of sturdy arms and tousled fair hair. His gaping nightshirt revealed countless scars on his broad chest, his golden, split-pupiled eyes were glinting like the sharpest of blades.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?” – Madoc yelled, getting right up to Locke in a single bond. The boy tried to draw back, making the Grand General even more furious. At the drop of a hat Madoc whipped Locke’s beautiful lyre off the boy’s hands. “How dare you break into my house in the middle of the night willing to solicit me, you pervy little shit!” – The redcap growled, taking a swipe. Locke sprang back, spun around and make a step towards the window. The Grand General followed him. “Have you no shame? I am married!” – Madoc exclaimed, “Married! Married!” – He gnarred, swinging the lyre as hard as he could. Locke, startled and panicked, apparently had stumbled the way to get out of Grand General’s bedroom. “Married!” – the redcap cried out, “And the fact that my lawful wedded wife went to see her mother does not entitle you to seducing, I mean harassing me!” This time Locke failed to avoid Madoc’s strike, the lyre hit his head with a thud.

“I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget, you no good layabout!”- He exclaimed, hitting Locke again and again. “I swear, you’d never feel like breaking into decent people’s abodes and molesting the master of a house again!”

“Have mercy, Lord Grand General, Have mercy!” – the boy squeaked. “Trust me, forcing myself on you was the last thing I wanted! I came to visit your daughter Taryn!” Madoc froze, as though he was stricken lifeless with a thunderbolt. Taking this opportunity, Locke dived through the window and scampered off into the night. The Grand General sighed and picked up a sheet of paper that had fallen out of the boy’s pocket. To his displeasure, Madoc recognized his seal and Taryn’s handwriting.

“You have a son, you watch the son. You have a daughter, you watch the entire neighborhood”, - the redcap sighted and headed forward Taryn’s bedroom. It was with a heavy heart that the Grand General knocked at the door.

“Give me a second, I’m coming,” – the redcap heard his girl’s sweet voice. Thank gods you’re not, -Madoc thought, not without malice. After a while Taryn, flushed and wrapped in her far-too-fancy dressing-gown, showed up at the door. She looked every inch a demure young lady, yet the Grand General was not that easy to deceive, at least not after he had heard Locke’s stupid, dirty song.

“What’s the matter, Dad?” – Taryn asked, innocently fluttering her eyelashes. The Grand General said nothing, just showed his daughter the letter.

“You have understand, Dad, that I am not a little girl anymore. And I can’t help I’m pretty popular with boys,” – She chirped.

“Yes, I agree, you aren’t a baby girl anymore, so you must be aware you put your good reputation at risk. You can also guess your mother and I don’t want our daughters to become an object of either derisions or malicious gossip. You ought to leave the Isles of Elysium for some time, I mean until the rumors die down,” – Madoc said matter-of-factly. To his delight the mortal humbly hung her head in shame. Corners of his mouth curled in a smile – it seemed like Taryn, essentially a good girl, realized her mistake, but the truth was the young woman lowered her gaze so that her father wouldn’t see immense relief written across her face. A trip to a foreign court? Is it actually a punishment? - She though, surprised. He’ll probably send me to the Court of Termites, where I will be dancing at revels, dally with fairy knights, and most of all, Jude is not going to spoil my fun.

“Where am I supposed to go, Father,” – She asked with anticipation, hoping Madoc won’t hear happiness in her voice.

“Can't believe you’ve actually asked me this question, Taryn,” – the Grand General raised his eyebrows, “Of course you will head over to the Court of Teeth where your aunt will start teaching you the military arts and battle strategies. Admittedly Grima Mog doesn’t agree with many of my views, but she’ll certainly help you get this Locke boy out of your head and in your spare time, she’ll teach you how to cook.”

“Say what?” – Taryn exclaimed. “Anything, please, anything but that!”- She cried out.

“It’s already settled, my girl. Tomorrow you’ll pack up and go to the north. Off to bed, you need to get some sleep now,” – He said crisply and departed with the feeling of a well-completed duty.

#fota #tfota fanfic #holly black #crack fic #madoc #madoc x locke #locke #taryn duarte x locke #taryn duarte #the lost sisters #tcp #jurdannet #i am childish #jurdannetrevels #in love with a monster

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thedevillionaire · 3 years ago

Text

Illusionary

Cerberus, Kia, domestic bedroom snz scene with a little magic, little romance? Hmm, yeah, sounds like me. 😏 --- Wrapped in a full-length darkest burgundy dressing robe, feeling somewhat refreshed but still more than a little coldhazy, Cerberus emerges post-shower to the sight of Kia, changed from her earlier black velvet bodice and jeans into a burnished deep gold satin negligee, lying on her stomach across the bed, head resting on her hands, attention fixed on the Testing papers in front of her. He pauses at the threshold, leans against the door frame to simply look at her awhile, silently enraptured, a soft smile on his face.

:Just so you know, babe,: Mindsends Kia, keeping her eyes on the papers, :it’s not possible for you to enter a room and not be noticed.: She glances back over her shoulder at him and grins wickedly. “You’d be a terrible spy.”

Cerberus chuckles, walking over to settle beside her on the bed. “Hard to argue given the circumstances, I suppose.” He toys with her hair, looking down at the papers. “Which Level are you applying for?” A light sniffle, and he frowns slightly, rubs his nose against an irritation rising anew.

“6.” Kia sighs. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I can get that, but…I don’t know, I’m not…evenly skilled across the options or something.” She rolls over to sit up, cross-legged. “There’s a bunch of stuff I can do really well, and some other stuff I’m…just not very good at, I guess.” She gives him a rueful smile. “But I think if I maybe…”

“What is it you’re not sure of?” Cerberus reaches across her and picks up the papers, flicking through them as he moves to sit leaning back against the bedhead, rearranging the array of pillows and cushions to suit. Another sniffle, more sharply this time and he recognises the battle as lost, his focus dissolving captive to undeniable need, and he turns from Kia in surrender to an adversary already his conqueror many times over today. “HHAHTSSCCHU! Damn it, I swear Healing deal in placebos. Comple…ehh-HH ..completely…hh… Ahh-HEHTSSCH-uu!” He sniffles again and fixes Kia with a look conveying irrefutable vindication, raises an eyebrow. “*snf!*Hm? As evidenced. Completely ineffectual,” he states with authority, and takes several tissues from the box on the bedside. “Excuse me a mome… hh-HH... Oh, for f… HHAHTSSCCHU! Ah, gods. *SNF!* Pardon me, love.” He blows his nose in an attempt to stop any further irritation, at least in the short term, though he holds very little faith in that regard, and incinerates the tissues in a flashblaze of aetherfire.

“Bless you, sweetheart,” Kia says, gently strokes his forearm. “I’m fairly sure the meds have helped a bit, though,” she suggests. “Compared to earlier, at least.”

“Oh, well, yes, I’m sure I’ve had at least ten minutes respite here and there,” mutters Cerberus sardonically, though he concedes to his bonded’s wry smirk quickly enough, places a kiss on her forehead. “Ah, I’m sorry, darkling. It’s just that as a rule, I’m rather fond of breathing.” Resting back against the pillows once more, he sighs again, absently rubs his nose, and returns his attention to the papers, making a quiet hum of thought as he flicks through them, in consideration.

“Sweetheart?” Kia, curious, shuffles up along the bed a little more to kneel beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, trying to read what he was reading. “What are you doing?”

Cerberus points to the skillset of Illusion, listed as a subcategory within Hypnotics, several thick and emphatic lines scrawled beneath it. “This is underlined because…?”

Kia scoffed. “Because I suck at it,” she says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I can do the basics, but…” She looks up at him, nestling into him, trailing absent patterns across his chest with her fingers. “It’s just…it’s like…you have to sort of direct what someone else sees, so it’s…putting your images into their eyes without actually seeingthrough their eyes, so you don’t know if it’s actually working, you just kind of have to hope for it, and I can’t figure out when it is working so then I get distracted and the whole thing pretty much falls apart.”

“It’s a skill Demonics covers as well.” Cerberus kisses the top of her head, draping an arm across her as he drops the papers in his lap.

Kia stares at him, taken aback. “You can do this?!”

“Well, I don’t use it widely, nor is it my forte, but…”

“Oh, oh, oh! Want to take my Test for me?” Kia gives him a playful entreating look. “Just, I don’t know, shapeshift or something. Is that a thing? You can do that, right? I’ll let you wear whatever you like. Oh my god, I bet you’d be super-hot as me.”

Cerberus collapses into laughter, and she laughs with him, her heart warming as it always does when he loses himself to delight, and particularly now, with him unwell. She repositions herself to settle beside him, kissing him tenderly as she does so, and picks up the papers in one hand, resting her other hand on his thigh. “Alright, alright, okay, I know. I’ll take my own stupid Test. It’s mostly Vampirism specific, anyway. But still…” A devilish grin darts across her face and she bats her eyelashes at him with exaggerated flirtation. :Super-hot.:

Smiling, Cerberus looks down and shakes his head in an ill-advised move that brings about yet another stark reminder of the throbbing sinus headache he’s only just managed to almost forget. He winces slightly and does his best to ignore it. Claiming the honeyed tea from the bedside tray, he reheats it with a touch, and takes a sip. “Well, darkling,” he says, “perhaps not quite that, um…absolute, but I certainly owe you any favours I can offer at this point, so if you’ll allow me—” He kisses her forehead. “—to revisit a request that you once asked of me… Drop your Protect.”

Kia’s eyes widen and she looks up at him, confused, curious. “Why? Do you even need me to?”

“No, love, technically I don’t. But I’d prefer to have your consent, if you’ll give it.”

“For what? I mean, sure, of course, babe, but…”

And then Kia loses her words, struck voiceless, astonished, and reaches her hand out to feel for a bed that is no longer there, finding instead only the soft moss and verdure of a rainforest glade, the gentle sensation of vivid greenery under her touch; lush, thick and rampant plantlife above her, beneath her, beside her, in sensory undeniability. She turns rapidly, looking everywhere around her, unable to comprehend what’s happening even as the very atmosphere changes, the dark, thick, wet scent of fernery, pines, rich soils, and peat surrounding her, immersive and entirely real, solid, incontrovertible. The sky darkens to gunmetal greyblue, stormclouded and windswept, and the crash of distant thunder seems to vibrate the air itself. Sky? But there can’t be sky. Where’s the…where’s the ceiling? What…

“Honey?” she asks, questioning, her own voice feeling like a foreignness, seeking her love who isn’t where he had been mere seconds ago, and she runs her hand along the bark of a nearby tree, one of several, the texture rough and actual, definite. She pushes it, pushes harder; it does not yield. The thunder echoes again, muted but resonant, a certainty, and the heavy cloudcover darkens with it, bringing further shadow to the dell. Shifting her position and reaching for familiarity does nothing to transform the verdant rolling hills back into the furniture she knows so well – oak and cast iron and ornate fabric lost to, consumed by, this wilderness she’s breathing. The landscape stretches out endless and impossibly vast; bedroom walls stay invisible, dissolved. There are no hard angles. No corners. Thunder once more but softer, as if moving away. Wisps of phosphorescence dartdance across thickets and brush, phantasmal. She curls her toes against some lichen at her feet.

:Know this, love,: Cerberus Mindsends almost as if in echo, in memory, to the bone, and Kia spins around to face him, seated beside her but on the opposite side to where she last saw him, dressed as if for a fog-covered moorside in a thick cable-knit sweater and fleecelined suede coat, which she knows is not possible this is not possible it cannot be possible how can he do this how can anyone oh my god definitely not reality but still the only tangible perception she can make, and she isn’t at all sure she can speak to him and she tries to see what she knows to be real, where she knows she must be sitting, but she simply can’t, and she plucks a honeysuckle flower off a nearby creeping vine that has to be fictitious and yet it somehow isn’t, marvelling as she turns it over in her hands, touching its petals, breathing its sweet perfume.

“You’re extraordinary,” she whispers, tears in her eyes.

:Close your eyes a moment, darkling, and immerse. Remember this. Understand this.:

And feeling the reassuring touch of his hand on hers, she closes her eyes as requested, reopening them after just a brief time to see again the bedroom that she’d logically known she’d never left, only then consciously recognising that he could not have taken her hand in that way from where she’d thought she’d seen him last, and she gazes up at him, open-mouthed in astonishment, for the shortest of moments before reaching up to trace her fingers along the contours of his face, almost as if to confirm his existence. “How are you even…” she murmurs in wonder, before calling herself back to reality somewhat.

She takes a moment to rebalance, breathes deeply, recentering. “Okay.” She exhales slowly. “Alright. Okay, that was…wow, that was completely amazing and… I love you but that was… If that’s what I’m meant to do… I mean, I could feel it. I held a flower. Fuck, babe. I have enough trouble even getting an image to form. A single image. You…you made a world. There’s no way I can do that.”

“You most certainly can, love,” counters Cerberus, “and, in fact, will. Should bring you up to a Level 8 grading, I’d imagine.” He presses his index finger then the back of his hand against his nose, frowning a little at a building itch, sniffling. “Excuse me. You just, um…recall the memory, enter in and redirect, adjusting for context. You’ll only be working with mortal capacity for resistance, also, if I recall the Vampirism protocol for this sort of thing correctly, so it sh…should be…” His breath hitches, the returning urgency stealing his sentence; he excuses himself with haste and turns from Kia, succumbing desperate, heavy, absolute. “AhhHEHTSSCHuu!”

“Bless you!”

He raises an index finger and gives the briefest shake of his head, brow creased, and frozen in thrall to the crescendo of oncoming need; he takes an imposed moment, expectant, and another, inhaling shallow scissored twice and over, then deep, deeper still.

And again.

“hh-HH… Hh-TSSCHhuu!”

And oh he does not want to concede, but again.

“HMPTch! HHKTchu!” His attempt at resistance proves no contest against the still insistent, overwhelming tickle, and he gives over completely this time, abandoning any further fight. “Hh-TSSCH-uu! ah-hh… AHHTSSCHUU! Ah, gods.”

Kia’s own breath comes a touch uncertain too as she purrs a honeytoned, “Bless you, sweetheart.”

Cerberus exhales tiredly, pushes silken ebony disorder back from his face with one hand while claiming several tissues with the other. “Thanks, love,” he murmurs, adding a sotto voce curse or two about the entire situation. “Pardon me.” He blows his nose, a little more gingerly now, sniffles again and sighs, repeats the process. Ridiculous.

A thought suddenly occurs to Kia that piques her interest far too much to not to ask it. “So, um…what would have happened if you’d sneezed during that whole…you know, ‘the bedroom is a forest now’ performance?”

Cerberus wipes his nose a final time before vaporising the latest used tissue collection. He chuckles quietly, clears his throat. “You’d best tell me, I think.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t, though. I would have…” Kia breaks off, examines her beloved’s expression with wary sidelong glance, considering whether there was any chance of...

No. With a faint scoff, she rejects the possibility, positive, confident. “No, you did not. There’s no way I don’t hear that.”

“If you say so, love.”

She frowns. “You’re right here. I am next to you in the bed.”

“Yes, it’s wonderful.” He flashes her a candid, disarming smile. “My favourite thing.”

Laughing, Kia pushes him in play. “Well, mine too, sweetheart, but that’s not what I meant and you know it,” she says before returning to her point. “You did not sneeze during that, though. No way. It just isn’t… Nope. You’re teasing me.”

“Well.” Cerberus once again brings newly steaming heat to the cup of tea with a touch, the very slightest of smiles crossing his face. “I admit that thunder is rather a cliché, but I didn’t have a great deal of time to consider intricacy of plot.”

“You di… But…” Kia stares at him in complete bafflement. “How?!”

“Illusion, darkling.” He stretches an idle arm across her shoulders, presses a kiss to her temple. “This is how it works.”

“Are you serious?!” Kia shakes her head in amazement. “God, do I even know what reality is?!” She gives a half laugh of incredulity, simultaneously astounded and utterly unsurprised at the variety of skills her beloved seems able to just call to command at will. “Okay, okay, and…so now because you…set me up, is that right, I can just, what, do that now? Oh. Ohh, whoa now, wait a second. Hang on.” She gives him a sly look, comprehension dawning. “Did you just do my homework for me?”

Cerberus laughs softly, a little darkly. “Consider it a crash course. Anyway, I know that you are in fact highly skilled in…not unrelated areas. I certainly know you can direct events. Your truly…outstanding talent with Immerse and Possess proves it. I suspect you just weren’t sure where to begin in this case.” He gives her a gentle smile. “You have an advantage, love. You should use it.”

Kia smiles back. “Oh, I’ll use you alright. I mean, use it.” She winks, laughing again. “I liked your mountain man look, by the way. Do you even have a cable-knit sweater?"

Cerberus raises an eyebrow. "What? You dressed me in a sweater?"

“I dressed you? What?"

“My direction only goes so far, darkling. Illusion involves a great deal of obfuscation, but it’s not a complete taking over. Some parts of it are nothing more than guidance, suggestions. And certain aspects are – I assure you – entirely of your own creation." He looks at her in nonplussed bemusement. “Really? Cable knit?”

“Navy blue, with a tan suede jacket,” Kia specifies with haughty precision before dissolving into laughter anew and doubly at the expression on his face. "I guess that’s what you get for setting everything in a forest. Come on, I was thematically accurate, at least.” She wipes away tears of laughter before meeting his gaze with conviction, points at him as if delivering an unarguable truth. “You looked hot as fuck, incidentally."

“I feel I’ve learnt something entirely new about you tonight,” Cerberus remarks, smiling briefly at her before suddenly turning away again, a couplet of fierce, unstoppable sneezes almost catching him unprepared absolutely, and he apologises with haste. “Hh-TSSCHH-uu! Ah-TSSCHH-uu! Goddamn it. *snf!* I have had more than entirely enough of this.” He sharply pulls another pair of tissues from the box, blows his nose again, immolates them afterwards with a burst of flame rather more emphatic than required.

“Aw, bless you, hon.” Kia tuts softly, strokes his hair back from his eyes, moves to sit across his lap, facing him. She traces a finely manicured nail down his neck, across his shoulder. “You know,” she nearwhispers, her tone softly teasing, “it wouldn’t kill you to wear a sweater once in a while.”

“I’m really not…”

Kia leans closer, purrs as if sharing the wickedest of secrets. “Denim jeans too.”

:Gods, love, who are you?: Cerberus Mindsends in shadowsnarl as he wraps a strong arm around his bonded and draws them together, claiming her mouth and kissing her with fire palpable.

:You know me, sweetheart.: With deft touch and feline grace, slightest shrug, Kia allows her negligee to smoothly fall away, returning her beloved’s kiss perfervid, wanting, infusing her reciprocal Mindsend with the same.

:Your favourite thing.:

----

#supernatural soap opera #cerberus #kia #cerbia #snzfic #sneeze fic #he will never wear denim jeans nope never not gonna happen #the sweater's not completely out of the question though #my writing #my OCs

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bepp-ers · 4 years ago

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Pretty little lie | S. Todoroki X Reader

“[Name]-san, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Currently, [Name] was not happy. Why?

Her parents had only gone and made an arranged marriage for her! To some goddamn celery stick of a guy!

Her blood boiled just remembering how she found out.

On the balcony of a large bedroom, several potted plants waved idly in the breeze, echoing [Name] ‘s feelings.

Everything was peaceful, and every now and again she would activate her quirk to shoot some life into one of the plants and smile as it lifted a leaf to her, almost akin to a cat’s paw.

Then she was called into the main dining room. Not a good sign to start with, but what was coming next was much much worse.

“[Name], you’re here.” Her mother droned, not particularly caring as usual.

Her father did his best to act interested, and motioned for her to sit on a cushion. “Now, you’ve turned 18 recently and we have gone ahead and made a decision.”

[Name] sighed. “What, am I working as a botanist like I’ve wanted to for years?”

Her father scowled. “Enough of that cheek, young lady. You are getting married, as a matter of fact.”

The girl choked on her words and spluttered into panic.

“I- you- what the fuck?!” “[Name]! Language!” “Sorry, but what the hell?! You can’t just marry me off to some random guy! This is a joke, tell me it’s a joke!”

Her mother sipped her drink and rolled her eyes.

“Grow up. The young man is part of a wealthy family and has a strong quirk. You should consider yourself lucky.”

[Name] stood up, slamming her drink on the table.

“I already have a partner. And I don’t want to get married until I know I’m ready. I’m not going through with it.”

“Don’t be difficult. It’s already arranged. His name is Todoroki Shouto, and you are due to meet him next week, so I’d get those manners in check, miss.”

[Name] simply glared at them both and left the room, collapsing into her own bed after storming away.

Fumbling with her phone, she searched through her contacts before clicking on one of them.

“Hey fuzzy, you been too obsessed with those plants to talk to me?”

[Name] smiled weakly at the nickname, and sighed. “No... I’m afraid I’ve got bad news.”

“[Name] have you been crying? What’s going on?” “My parents.... have arranged a marriage for me. Crazy, right?”

She heard a yelp from the other end and frantic noises. “Wha- no! They can’t! Are they crazy?! You have a life! [Name] tell me you’re not going through with it?!”

She chuckled dryly.

“I wish it were that simple. I’m meeting the guy next week. I’m sorry sugar, I’ll try to figure something out but who knows when I’ll be able to talk to you again? I’m so sorry...”

“No, no, I’m sorry for getting mad. I’ll get you out of there somehow, even if it takes a year. You’ll be with me finally and there’ll be no forced feelings. Oh fuzzy, baby, darling, we’ll manage.”

They were not, in fact, managing as [Name] was currently face to face with her fiancé and his scary-looking father.

Now, [Name] had to admit he was decently good-looking, but nowhere near as perfect as her current partner, and he looked so dead inside. Like he would rather be anywhere else.

‘Feeling’s mutual buddy.’

“[Name]-san, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The towering man gave a small bow and motioned for [Name]’s parents to follow him.

“Now, we’ll be leaving you two here to get to know each other better. Goodbye, Shouto, [Name]-san.”

The tall redhead man accompanied [Name]’s own parents out of the room, and soon it was just [Name] and uh... Todoroki? She barely remembered his name. Great start.

[Name] sighed and immediately flopped on one of the cushions, pulling out her phone and setting down her bags so that she could talk to her significant other.

“I’m just saying, I hate this, you probably hate this, don’t you have better things you could be doing?” She asked, scrolling through her contacts.

“Not particularly.” Wow, dead conversation much?

“Ri-i-ight. Well then, I guess I’m off.”

He gave her a hint of a confused look and [Name] pointed to her phone. “I have a partner. I don’t wanna marry you, no offense so I’m just going to go outside and call them. Then I’m gonna find my parents, and-”

“-They didn’t tell you?” He interrupted.

“Heh?”

He frowned even more if that were possible. “You’re staying here. With me. Our parents decided it would be best, and they are all at your residence.”

[Name]’s phone clattered to the floor as she stood there, frozen.

“W-what?!”

“If you sit down, I can explain if you’d like.” He offered, though it sounded like a command more than anything.

“No, no, I thought my parents were assholes before, but--” She rambled, sitting down dejectedly on the cushion.

“Oh.” [Name] sighed. “What now?”

“Your phone, it’s...”

[Name] snatched her phone and gave an exasperated sigh. “Fuck. Can this get any better?”

She looked down at the phone, completely shattered from being dropped onto traditional wooden floors.

“Now how the hell am I supposed to contact anyone..? I don’t remember numbers...” She slumped forwards, pushing the phone to one side.

Todoroki’s eyes trailed over the forlorn girl, and he smiled a bit.

“We’ll get you a new one.” “You realise I can’t talk to my partner now? Oh my god just... just.... ugh, I don’t know!”

“You seem tense. We have a lovely garden if you’d like to calm down.” Thinking quickly, [Name] sighed and nodded.

“Sure, I guess. Thanks.”

It was a lovely garden, [Name] supposed, and as she stared at the Koi fish her mind calculated a plan.

“It is nice out here, I’ll admit...” She stood up, stretching a bit. Todoroki’s affection for the girl was growing every moment, so he was glad to hear it.

“Hey, what are those plants there?” She pointed to the flowers near the door.

“Hm? Oh, they’re an imported variant of rose. My mother was fond of them.” “I’ll bet, they’re really pretty.”

“Hey, [Name]-chan c’mere a second.” She turned and trotted closer to him, so close to being able to achieve her plan.

Wordlessly, he plucked a flower and brought it up to [Name]’s hair, intertwining it with the locks so that it framed her face.

“There. It suits you.” He smiled warmly, thankful that his mother had chosen [Name] for him.

“Thanks...” [Name] forced a warm smile. “You know, Todoroki-kun...” She leant in a little closer, a small smile across her lips.

“Hm?” “Everything here is so nice, are you sure it’s okay for me to just... be here?” “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know. Just thinking out loud. I’m sorry for being annoyed at you earlier, I was certain this would be another awful idea by my parents.” “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Thanks. Should we go inside? I want to see where I’ll be staying.” “Of course.”

“Wow. This sure is fancy.” “Mm, if you didn’t like it you could have picked another room, or even shared mine, but it seems you like this one?” “Yeah, it’s really nice. Hey would you do me a favour?”

“Do you want me to fetch your bags?” “Please?” [Name] batted her eyelashes and smiled as much as she could without vomiting.

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

For the rest of the evening, [Name] was not allowed to leave Todoroki’s side. It was torturous, the way he looked at her with such fondness seeing nothing wrong with the situation.

In the evening, [Name] feigned tiredness and requested to be left alone to sleep. In reality she was plotting her escape. “I’ll see you in the morning, Todoroki-kun. G’night.” “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” “Positive, now quit fussing. Good night.”

The moment he left the room, [Name] ran over to the window and opened it quietly, looking over to a nearby tree.

“Here, let me get out of this house.” She whispered, and the branched curled over to her. Hopping on, she sank down to the ground and began running.

Meanwhile, Todoroki had headed to his own room, when he saw one of [Name]’s bags on his floor.

He walked back over to her room and knocked, and walked in when he heard no answer.

“[Name]-chan you left this -- [Name]?!” He dropped the bags and sprinted to the window, where he saw [Name]‘s receding figure.

“[Name]!!” He yelled, and for a moment she stopped and turned.

“Sorry honey, but I’ve got a partner! I don’t want any part in this!”

She had barely ran another few feet when the ground underneath her was covered in ice, and she stumbled forwards.

Todoroki was upon her before she could even yell, yanking her up by the arm, a furious scowl on his face.

“What the hell are you doing? I thought... I thought you were happy with this arrangement?” “Obviously not! Let go of me!”

She struggled, but though the ice had now dissapeared she could not remove herself from his grip.

“This is happening- you cannot stop us from being together. Not after everything we went through to get you here.” He hissed as he dragged her back to the house.

“You’re staying. It’s not your decision to make, darling. I’ll make sure of that.”

haha this has been in my drafts for months. okay that’s enough of bnha yay obey me shit incoming love yall sorry this one took forever aha

#yandere bnha #bnhaxreader #yandere bnha x reader #shoto todoroki #yandere todoroki #this took so long #yandere #yandere mha #yandere x reader

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m0srael · 3 years ago

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The Fourth King

2k | T Rating | Implied death

This is the second in what will be an ongoing series about H&D as stage magicians, in love and in trouble like all good magical duos. Read the first here! This is for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: King. Thanks to @phoebedelia for the beta!!! Read on Ao3.

“No, no, for fuck’s sake Harry, I’ve explained this a hundred times--”

“You explained it exactly three times, Draco, and each time has been different!”

“Yes, well, I’m trying to find a way that penetrates your thick skull--”

“Fuck off, all the way off, out of England if you can. Sit down, let me try again, I think I’ve got it…”

----

The room was more opulent than any other Potter and Malfoy had performed in. The vaulted ceilings were crusted in elaborate crown moulding, the Baroque frescoes painted there almost blindingly bright. Any surface that could have been gilded, was. The air was warm and still--Harry thought he could hear the distant tinkling of a pianoforte.

They were set up at the front of the room, staring down a phalanx of uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs occupied by even more uncomfortable-looking aristocrats. The ladies were all breathing shallowly, fanning themselves with lacy fans clutched in gloved hands. Harry couldn’t help but notice the way several of them fluttered their eyelashes at Draco. The gentlemen each clutched a crystal glass of dark liquor, their eyes glazed and distant.

Jones had managed to procure them each a second-hand tuxedo, fine enough that they wouldn’t insult their hosts by their mere presence, but not so fine as to suggest they didn’t know their place. Draco thought Harry looked quite dashing in a tailcoat. He might tell him later, if they found one another again.

Potter and Malfoy had been booked for an hour-long performance and judging by any one of the seven ornate clocks scattered about the large room, they had ten minutes to pull off their final trick. It was more than enough time.

----

“Listen to me, Rose got her hands on the guest list, they’ll all be there. We will never have another opportunity like this, Harry.”

“Yeah, I get that, but--”

“No ‘buts’. My love--Harry, please. We’ve gone over it a hundred, a thousand, times! We will not...cannot...fail.”

“You can’t guarantee that, Draco! What if something goes wrong, what are we supposed to do if we can’t get it? What do we do if we can?”

“We’ll get it. Harry, we’ll get it. We’ve been patient for so long. I need you to trust me.”

----

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Malfoy’s deep voice resonated around the cavernous space. “I’m afraid the time has come for our final act. It is a simple, but elegant, illusion. Are you watching closely?”

Potter stepped forward from where he’d been leant against the vanishing cabinet situated on the far left of the low stage, opposite the second cabinet on the right. “We’d like to tell you a story,” he said in a soft voice. The thick blanket of stale air seemed to ripple with the low, wooden creak as the audience leaned forward as one. Potter flicked his wrist and a deck of cards appeared, pinched between the pads of his thumb and first two fingers. A woman in the third row gasped, softly. He fanned the cards out and extended his arm, moving it first to the left, then to the right.

“Your Grace,” Malfoy said, bowing and gesturing expansively at the Duke to invite him onstage, “This act requires your...particular participation.” After a moment, the Duke made his way onto the stage, accompanied by polite applause.

Potter bent at the waist, extending the deck out toward the Duke. “If you please, Your Grace, examine these cards and confirm for us that this is a complete and unaltered deck.” The Duke took his time. He fingered every card, turned them this way and that, counted silently. After a minute he looked at the audience, “Yes, this seems to be a perfectly normal deck of playing cards.”

“If it pleases Your Grace, would you remove the four kings from the deck--yes, hand them right to Potter here--and then give it a good shuffle?” Malfoy asked. The Duke complied, plucking the four king cards out of the deck one-by-one.

“This is a story about time...and greed; about four kings driven by selfishness and consumed by avarice.” Potter paced the length of the stage with the four cards splayed in his hand, slowing here and there as an audience member leaned in for a closer look. He stopped to the left of the Duke.

“You see, these kings,” Malfoy continued, coming to stand opposite Potter, “have stolen something that does not belong to them. Something priceless and very important. They are under the mistaken impression that this item will bring them wealth and influence.” Draco turned to face the Duke, holding his eye contact.

“What would you do,” Potter said as he, too, turned to face the Duke, “if someone took something from you, something precious? Would you...call the police? Confront the thief? Would you ask your neighbors for help, or keep quiet out of fear and shame? Would you do whatever it took to get it back?”

----

“Draco, I know I say this every bloody day, but you’ve finally lost your mind. It’s too risky. We don’t have enough time...the dinner is tomorrow night!”

“Look at me, Harry, bloody hell, stop and look into my eyes--”

“Stop it, you always do this…”

“Yes! Harry! Because someone has to ensure that we...that our family...that we make it back and unless you have a better suggestion--”

“Jones said! He said he’s got a lead on a series of gigs and sure, it will take longer, but it’s better than risking our bloody--”

“A SERIES OF GIGS? You would rather...keep doing cheap illusions for a bunch of drunks who couldn’t care less, getting beer--OR WORSE--poured over our heads every night…”

“WE NEED MORE TIME, DRACO! We need...you haven’t thought this through properly!”

“Hah! More time! Time is all we have, now, Harry!”

“I can’t lose you...again…”

----

Potter and Malfoy walked around the Duke in a slow, tight circle, heads bowed to the floor as if contemplating their own answers to the question. They came to a stop in their original positions, making eye contact with one another. “The kings have learned that the rightful owners of their pilfered treasure are planning to break into the palace,” Malfoy said gesturing with his free hand at the kingless deck he held in the other, “and steal it back. They form a foolproof plan to thwart them.”

“The first king decides to set a guard on the ground floor of the palace, surely the thieves will try to enter through the portcullis,” Potter slid the king of clubs into the deck near the bottom card.

“The second king thinks that the thieves can’t be so stupid as to walk right in through the front door, so he sets a guard on the second floor of the castle. They will scale the walls and enter through a window, surely!” Malfoy slid the king of spades into the deck just below the middle.

“The third king knows that the treasure has been stored in the vaults on the top floor of the palace, he intends to set a guard there and catch the thieves red-handed.” Potter slid the king of diamonds into the deck just below the top.

“The fourth king, however, thinks himself cleverest of them. He sets his guard on the roof of the palace.” Malfoy lifted the final card, the king of hearts, and placed it gently on the top of the deck before holding it out in front of the Duke’s chest “From his vantage point, he can see everything: the portcullis, the palace walls, the windows in the highest towers, the lands surrounding the palace. He will watch closely and raise an alarm as soon as he sees movement in the dark. He can gather his brethren so they can rain arrows, stones, and boiling fat down on the intruders before they ever breach the palace walls.”

“In the small hours of the morning the fourth king hears what he has been waiting for,” Potter nearly whispered, cupping a hand around his ear as if he, too, could hear it, “the sound of hoof-beats echoing through the trees near the palace. The fourth king called down to his compatriots, urging them to hurry to the roof.” Harry tapped the top of the deck in Draco’s hand, hard, with his middle finger. The gentleman sitting closest to him jumped at the solid thud the gesture produced.

Malfoy fluttered the long fingers of his free hand over the deck before lifting the top four cards. A wave of surprise rolled through the audience as they realized that he held all four kings. They began clapping, hesitantly at first, then more enthusiastically.

----

“Draco, please, we can call it off now. We can just do the gig, get our money, and go home. There will be other--”

“There will never be another opportunity like this, I’m not going to say it again. It’s too late, anyways, the triggers have been set and the charms can’t be reversed.”

“That can’t...but you PROMISED! You said, if we changed our minds we could--”

“I know what I said, Harry, I know. I’m sorry. I love you so much. I love you so much and we have to do this. I had to be sure that we have no choice but to go through with it. This is the only way.”

“You also promised you would find me, will you break that, too? How can I trust you to do that now?”

“Because I will always find you, Harry. I always have. It’s the only thing I am ever perfectly certain of.”

----

Potter held up a silencing hand, never taking his eyes off the Duke’s face. He waited until the room fell quiet once more. “What the fourth king failed to consider was that the men--back to retrieve what was rightfully theirs--had been inside the palace all along. They divined the kings’ plan before the kings themselves concocted it.”

“In fact, the men had already taken back their property, long before the kings set their watches that night,” Malfoy felt the right pocket of his jacket sag under a sudden weight. He tipped Potter a gentle wink as he handed over the four kings, then waved his free hand over the deck. Malfoy used both hands to fan the cards, face out. They were blank, every one. The audience began to murmur, ladies’ fans fluttered and men gestured with their now-empty glasses. “Your Grace, I believe this is yours?” Potter said, handing him the king of hearts.

Potter and Malfoy began to walk backwards, slowly, toward the vanishing cabinets. “As I mentioned, this story--like so many--is about greed.” Potter said loudly over the cheering audience, “More specifically, this story is about what happens to men so eaten up by greed that they no longer care who they hurt in their pursuit of power.” The king of hearts burst into flame in the Duke’s hand, drawing another collective gasp from the audience.

They opened the doors of the vanishing cabinets at the same moment. Harry turned to face Draco, his gaze hot and pleading, tears stinging his eyes. Draco nodded quickly at him, his smile watery and wavering, before stepping inside. As Harry pulled the door closed behind him he heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor, followed by a high, piercing shriek, before the dark consumed him.

#drarrymicrofic #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #Where does the fake magic end and the real magic begin #Will they ever make it home? Tune in next week to find out #Maybe #minimose

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years ago

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26. Mirio Togata

Theme: Incubus

Kinks: Wet dreams, somnophilia, non-con, rough sex, breeding

Yeah. I don’t know how male orgasms work, so this will probably be inaccurate. I’m not that big into actually having sex and I’m not in a comfortable level with my male friends how orgasms feel for them. I don’t know what else to tell you.

Very OC Mirio. And you know what else? He’s canonically 18.

Masterlist

Spread your legs for me.

This was a dream and a damned good one at that. Laying on top of you was a young man, ripped like a Greek god. He ordered you around with a honeyed voice. It worked like magic. You opened your legs and allowed him to slip between them. His large, protruding member grazed against your slit before parting your wet folds as powerful-looking hands stood on either side of your head. You stared up from your pillow and into the ocean-blue eyes leering at your body. He snagged your lower lip between his teeth and sucked.

Your eyes snapped back to the blue ones staring at you. You licked your lips. Your mouth was parched; you couldn't speak.

You dared to look down at the body shifting between your legs. You gaped at the small bulge in your lower belly, where the cock was fully seated inside of you. Hips snapped into you, making you arch your back of your mattress.

You feel good, don't you, sunshine?

Don't you worry. Let me take care of everything.

Your legs trembled the next morning. It was worse between your legs, and the muscles of your inner thighs ached with every step. Your lower back screamed at you. When you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror, you hardly recognized your own reflection. You were pale with dark circles under your eyes. You struggled to remember what time you went to bed. Your mind was running on two brain cells as you tried to work out what happened the night before. You remembered going to bed, but after that, you couldn't remember anything at all. Dreams weren't supposed to be remembered, yet it felt like you had one. In the back of your mind, you saw a man, a handsome man, sharing your bed. He was…inside you. His cock was pounding your insides like nothing else mattered to him except make you come hard. But you couldn't remember if he succeeded.

You scrubbed yourself clean in the shower and ventured back to your bed. Carefully, you peeled back the covers. Sure enough, there was a wet stain. You quickly tore the sheets off your mattress and dumped them in the hamper. No one was going to see, but you felt better with a clean set.

At work, people were already noticing the difference.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" Momo asked.

"Hm?" Was all that you could manage.

"You look like you pulled an all-nighter. Late-night project?"

You shook your head. "No, just had a bizarre dream."

You flitted away before Momo could see the faint blush coming over your cheeks. You fueled yourself with coffee all day in an attempt to stay awake. A knock at your office had you snapping upright in your chair and spinning around to face the door. Mr. Toshinori stood in your doorway.

"L/N, do you have a second?"

You tried not to rub sleep from your eyes.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"I'd like to introduce a new colleague to you. He just transferred from a different branch, so I'm showing him around. Togata, this is L/N-san."

You couldn't tell if blood drained from your face or sped towards your face. The other man in your office doorway looked uncomfortably familiar. He was broad as he was tall with a mop of blonde hair. His ocean-blue eyes beamed when he saw you.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, L/N," said Togata. "I'm Mirio. Mirio Togata."

You slowly rose from your chair. You wondered if your skirt was long enough to hide your knocking knees. You reached out to shake his hand and instantly regret that decision. His palm was warm—no, hot. It was hot to the touch, and it took everything you had not to wrench your hand away. Mirio's fingers were giant compared to yours. He gripped your hand almost possessively, but with Mr. Toshinori in the same room, that much Mirio could do. The moment your hands touched, a shiver ran up your spine. You lurched forward and almost fell into Mirio's arms. You clamped your hand over your mouth to prevent your new co-worker and boss from hearing you moan.

"L/N, what's wrong? You look sick," said Mr. Toshinori.

"I think…I think I should go home. I'm not feeling so hot." You managed to stammer out.

"By all means, L/N. If you're not feeling well, you should get some rest. I'll fill out the paperwork, and you can sign it off when you get back."

"Thank you, sir," you mumbled.

Mr. Toshinori and Mirio left the room. You gathered up your stuff, signed out of your computer, and headed out. As you rounded the corner, you felt someone follow behind you. You turned to see Mirio a few steps at your back.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to help you to your car. Mr. Toshinori was kind of enough to let me help you since you don't look so good," said Mirio.

"T-Thanks."

Mirio stayed a few steps behind you rather than walk right at your back. Which you were grateful if anyone asked. The personal space was needed before you passed out. That all changed when you realized that you would have to take the elevator to get to the parking garage below, which meant you had to share it with Mirio standing within arm's reach of you.

The elevator doors closed with a solemn grumble. Your heart pounded inside your chest. You glanced at Mirio from time to time, waiting for him to make a move. Although what should you be expecting? Were you that suspicious of a man you just met just because he looked similar to the one in your wet dream? Coincidence, you thought. It was all just a coincidence. You were silly, really. A niggling doubt in the back of your mind said otherwise. Mirio didn't just look similar to the man in your dream, he was too tentative, and the way his eyes followed you around should have shot up several red flags. You ignored it in favor of acting like a sensible, rational human being.

Mirio caught you looking at him once or twice on the way down that seemed to take a century. He merely smiled and kept his hands to himself. If he indeed was the man from your dream, then he would hesitate to put his hands all over you the moment the elevator's doors closed shut. Someone like that wouldn't give a damn about the security cameras either. His smile made you melt; you were practically a puddle when you exited the elevator. Mirio followed behind as you sprinted for your car. You bit your lip. Was this such a good idea to let a strange know what kind of car you drive and what your license plate read? No, no, that couldn't be the same kind of man Mirio was. He was too polite for that creepiness.

You made it to your car without further incident. Your heart still raced a mile a minute. Mirio stood in the periphery of your vision, never far from your sight. He remained a respectful distance away.

"Thank you so much for your help. I hope we get to work on future projects together," you said as you fished your car keys out of your purse.

"Let me get the door for you."

Mirio moved so quickly that you didn't have time to protest. He plucked the keys from your hand, pressed the button that would unlock the car, and opened the driver-side door for you. Puzzled, you didn't think twice about the matter. You settled your stuff in the passenger seat next to you and buckled in. You bated your eyelashes without thinking anything wrong. A little flirting never hurt right.

"Thank you," you said.

"Not a problem." Mirio beamed. His smile could melt icecaps.

Shutting the door, Mirio leaned through the window you don't remember rolling down.

"I'll see you tonight." His voice was velveteen.

Your brows furrowed at his meaning. You were a deer caught in a pair of headlights when you turned to look at him. Those same ocean-blue eyes held a darker intent than merely working with you. It was the vastness of the open sea, cold and ruthless. His eyes were a void meant to suck you in and drown you in their maddening depths. Mirio's smile dimmed to a smirk, and he walked away. You watched him from your car how he turned away, walked back to the elevator, and climb inside. Before the doors closed him in, you swore that Mirio winked at you before disappearing.

The rest of your day was a blur. You dressed in your favorite pajamas and hoped that some food and mindless channel surfing would solve all your problems. Not only were you not getting paid, but your excuse was also rather lame. As you sat on your couch and stared into your television screen, you wondered when was the last time you got a full night of sleep. You blanked. There had to be a time when you did, but you couldn't remember. Your brain was a jumbled mess, all thanks to those cursed dreams you'd been having. You couldn't even remember the last time you had an ordinary, non-sexy dream with a stranger you hadn't met until today.

You almost loathed it when it grew dark. Night meant bedtime, and bedtime meant dreams. The longer your brain festered on those dreams, the more you grew to dread them. You looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you brushed your teeth. You took a more extended look at the dark circles beneath your eyes and the sullenness taking over your face. Were your cheeks always that shallow? You spat, rinsed, and turned off the light.

Mirio slipped through every wall and door to get inside your apartment. He would climb through every fence in the world just to get to you. Your scent was absolutely divine; it drove him insane with want. He licked his lips as he broke past the last barrier keeping you from him. The path to the bedroom was easy and one that he knew like the back of his hand. Mirio mapped out your entire apartment during his nightly trips.

You paused at your bedside before peeling back the covers. Slowly, you got beneath your blankets and pulled them up to your neck. For the longest time, you lay there stiff as a board under your blanket and sheets. Your eyes darted around the room just to see if your new co-worker was lurking there. You set your phone face down on the nightstand after fifteen minutes of you lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. You flipped your bedside lamp off with a sigh.

You closed your eyes, still expecting Mirio to slink in. The room was silent. The only noise you could make out were the soft footsteps from the people in the apartment above you and the gust of wind against your windowpane. A prayer fell from your lips that whatever was coming for you in the night would leave you be.

He stood at the foot of the bed to watch you sleep. You snuggled up to your blankets like a child seeking protection. A few pieces of cloth weren't enough to protect you from him. Mirio crept a bit closer. When he was stood beside you, he peeled away the blankets and sheets. Lavender wafted up to his nose.

"Changed your sheets after last night, eh? You humans are so peculiar about your habitats. It is a shame, though. I might have wanted you to sleep a little longer in your come. Get you used to it. Oh, well."

His hands worked the buttons of your sleep shirt, and the silken fabric fell away with no more than a gentle tug. Your long bottoms made him scowl. How dare you hide your lovely from him. That alone deserved punishment. You murmured in your sleep as Mirio tugged your pants and underwear down in one go. Tonight, he had no intention of putting you back together again. You would sleep naked after he was done with you. The only thing he wished he could do was to see your face when you woke up and found yourself naked. No matter. Good things come to those who wait.

Mirio wasted no time dishevelling his clothes. Being a demon, he could have easily dissolved them or faded through them. He wanted this to be special and want to remember every detail. The act of stripping down made him feel a bit more compatible with you, a human. It was pretend, a show. Eventually, you would see his proper form and tremble. For now, Mirio settled for having you like this, vulnerable to his power and entirely at his mercy.

He climbed into bed with you and reclined on his side. His tongue ran across his lips just by looking at your body. You shivered in the cold. You should have stirred and awoken to your body bare of even a sheet to protect you from his gaze. Mirio's magic made it impossible for you to open your eyes unless he desired it so. You were going to belong to him shortly enough, but why spoil it now? Mirio thought himself cruel for dragging it out like this but admitted to liking this game.

Mirio ran a finger down the column of your throat and let it trail down to your belly button and back again. He hummed with delight as he touched your smooth skin. He palmed your breast and tweaked your nipple to a stiff peak. Mirio shifted on the bed until his lips found your neck and suckled. He kissed your shoulders and licked your skin. Mirio's large hands groped your chest.

"You fill my hands up nicely, Y/N. Your body feels like it already belongs to me," he murmured against your skin.

Mirio placed his knee against your cunt, rubbing your clit occasionally against the hard muscle. He drew your knees upwards and settled himself firmly between your legs. Kissing your lips, his hands never left your chest. While he kissed your mouth, his hands never ceased to pinch and massage your chest. His cock grew stiff, just thinking about what it would look like sandwiched in the middle of your perfect breasts.

"More time for that later. Let's get down to business, shall we, sunshine?"

Mirio lined his cock against your pussy, now soppy wet from his ministrations. He smiled to himself at how easy it was to manipulate your body towards his needs. If you had been awake, he imagined that your eyes would roll into the back of your head at the stretch. His cock slipped in with only a little resistance. Your walls clenched around his intrusion before easing up. His first thrust helped him bottom out. Mirio closed his eyes at the feel of your body wet, warm, and tight for him. For him alone.

"That's my sunshine. That's my girl. Oh, yes," Mirio grunted.

His hands bruised your hips as he dragged you up and down his cock, forced it to meet him thrust for thrust. While you slept, your walls clamped down around Mirio's cock. He snapped his hips back and forth as he felt your strength leave your body and enter him. Call it 'tit for tat.' Mirio was giving your body all the pleasure it could ever need and the seed it so desperately wanted. The only price was just a little bit of your energy. Soon, very soon, Mirio wouldn't need to take any more from you. He would be able to have you all to himself, and no force on earth could stop him.

Mirio adored the sweet squelching sounds your pussy made as he pounded into it. You were flooding him with your juices, and you didn't even know it. He couldn't wait to see what your eyes looked like when he pleasured your consciousness. Though your mind was too far gone to realize that it wasn't merely a dream, you couldn't wake up until Mirio wanted you to. This was the way of his kind, only most were one and done. Mirio needed more and more of you to himself. He couldn't stop after one feeding. The only way for him to keep you without draining away your life was a simple spell. All he had to do was get you pregnant.

You were close; he could feel it. Pleasured seared down his spine and threatened to burst, but he wanted to hold out a little while longer. Mirio moved faster, faster. He saw the bruises forming on your hips, the tighter he held on. He would rather crush your hips than stop when you were both so close. Your cunt squeezed around him.

"That's it, good girl. Squeeze me. I'm going to give you everything. Better not spill a drop."

You whined in your sleep as you arched your back. Mirio watched your face as it scrunched up. In pain or ecstasy, it was hard to tell the difference. Your body convulsed around him. Your floodgates opened to him and coated Mirio's cock with your come. It was more than enough to allow Mirio to do the same. The searing tingle shot down his spine and burst like an explosion. He stopped gripping your hips to seize hold of the headboard and hold it tight. Mirio shoved his cock in as far as it would go to ensure that none of his come leaked out. He could feel himself releasing so quickly that it made his head spin. When the final drop hit, he slowly, reluctantly, pulled away from your welcoming cunt. Your insides and your inner thighs were covered in him, just the way he liked.

Mirio dressed then looked over his shoulder at your sleeping and battered form. There were bound to be questions when you woke up, but it was a shame he couldn't see it. He satisfied himself for now by kissing your forehead and whispering, "Pleasant dreams."

#my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #mha smut #mha fanfiction #reader fic #kinktober #kinktober week #dark themes #non con #Mirio Togata #lemillion #mirio x reader #incubus!Mirio #Minors begone

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rosycheekedandsmilin · 4 years ago

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Here Comes the Sun

Luke Patterson Imagine

Summary: Luke sees you at one of the boys’ practice sessions.

Warnings: just fluff with a hint of angst, I think. There is a mention of a pregnancy rumor and implied bullying, but not extensively

(A/N: I’m soooo sorry this took so long. Things have been hectic. Also, this would be before they died back in 1995. Plus, I’m new to all this so any recommendations, comments, tips, etc would be appreciated)

You had told your friend, Dianne, that you had homework to do, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. The boys of Sunset Curve were rising quickly on the LA scene and your friend was just one of the many to join their legions of female fans. It also helped that they happened to go to school with you. You couldn’t deny that they were all pretty cute, but you sided with many when you decided you had a preference for the front man: Luke Patterson.

You both used to be close your freshman year, but after he joined Sunset Curve your sophomore year, you both went your separate ways. You’d actually seen him several times in the hallways this year when he wasn’t surrounded by girls. He would be stepping in time with some imaginary beat, his fingers plucking on the old messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. He was always looking up, ever the optimist, looking at the horizon like only good things could ever come his way. His bottom lip caught in his teeth through a beaming smile, his hair brushing along his long eyelashes-

Whew. He was gorgeous.

And trigonometry homework could wait for you to see that gorgeous again up close.

The boys would sometimes hold open practice for a few fans to come watch and hang out, but it was starting to become exclusive as more people began to show up than they had room for.

Thus, your friend lept at the opportunity when she cornered Reggie alone in World History. You giggled at his adorable smile as your friend twirled her hair and flirted his socks off. Before you knew it, she was running back to you with a grin and the promise to see the band practice that coming Thursday after school.

You dressed in some simple mom jeans and a graphic tshirt tied at the waist, hopefully to flatter your figure. Dianne guaranteed you looked “smokin’ hot”, in her words. 4:10 struck and you both got in her car to head that way. The practice started at 4:00, but Dianne told you repeatedly that being fashionably late would set you both apart from the crowd.

On the way to the studio garage, you found yourself extremely nervous. You didn’t even fully know why; it was just a band, just a boy. It wasn’t a date or you throwing yourself at him, but you couldn’t help the fluttering feeling in your stomach at the thought of seeing Luke Patterson perform before a selected crowd, you being one of them.

Meanwhile, the boys were starting to warm up when Reggie started rambling.

“Isn’t it weird that no one comes on Thursdays?”

Bobby snickered. Alex and Luke shared a look before Alex turned to Reggie.

“Dude, that’s because the school has lacrosse games on Thursdays. No one wants to be here when our team is on a winning streak.”

Reggie thought a moment before laughing at himself.

“Oh yeah! I completely forgot. Then Dianne must have forgot too.”

Luke, Alex and Bobby all turned back to Reggie.

Luke spoke up this time.

“Dianne as in Dianne Parker?”

Reggie nodded. Luke’s eyes widened.

“Dianne Parker, as in friends with-“

Reggie smiled. “Yep. Y/n y/l/n.”

Bobby turned to Luke.

“Isn’t that the girl you’ve liked since-“

“-freshman year. Yeah,” Luke sighed.

He turned to Alex, but Alex waved him off.

“Even I have to admit the puppy dog eyes you used to get around her.”

Luke smiled softly, falling back into a memory.

You and he had been lab partners in Chemistry your freshman year, as well as shared a homeroom together. This was back before he was introduced to the music that saved his life, so he was still a shy little kid. He hadn’t found the passion that spurred him to connect to people. You, on the other hand, were everything he wished he could be: kind, smart, and courageous.

You weren’t quite an extrovert, but you always made sure others felt included and valued. When someone fell quiet during group discussion, you encouraged them to speak up and always made sure they knew you valued their input. When he would inevitably get an answer wrong in class, you would quietly show him the correct answer and explain it to him in a way that he didn’t feel stupid. And you would regularly invite people eating alone to join your small group of friends.

There came a point where Luke’s parents pushed him to get a tutor because of his failing grades, and you offered immediately after hearing about it. Every Tuesday and Thursday, you both would meet in the public library after school. As time went on, Luke grew to enjoy your time together and even grew a crush, but he never thought you would like the little shy kid that couldn’t speak up for himself. Then his sophomore year, his parents gifted him with his first guitar and it changed him forever. He connected with people in a way he never had before. By the time he worked up the courage to tell you how he really felt, you were in your first relationship with Danny Fenton, the star quarterback.

Luke just had to watch as you walked with him everyday and cheered him on the loudest on Friday night football games. Then, you had a messy break up. Not even a week later, a rumor spread that it was because you had cheated and were pregnant. It was a nasty, false rumor, but enough people believed it that you moved away your junior year.

In the meantime, Luke had already formed a band and was rising through the social ranks. When he learned you had moved back your senior year, he flipped. Still, he could never find the nerve to talk to you again, and you kept your head low to avoid the social radar.

That all changed today. The boys cornered Reggie.

“Is she coming today?” Luke asked.

Reggie gulped, his eyes darting between the three faces in front of him.

“I-I don’t know! Dianne just stopped me in world history and started asking about the band and Luke and-“

“She asked about me?”

“Well, yeah and she was twirling her hair and you know I have a thing about hair-“

“Did she mention anything about y/n?” Alex piped in.

“Well, she said that she and a friend wanted to watch practice today-“

“A friend? I’m sure it’s her,” Luke spoke to himself, running his fingers through the scruff on the back of his neck.

“Dude, are you gonna be okay?” Bobby asked, the three other boys staring nervously at Luke’s retreated figure.

He turned slowly, his deep hazel eyes wide in uncertainty.

“Well,” he said, taking in a breath, his shoulders dropping in finality, “it’s now or never.”

•••••

“We’re here!” Dianne cheered as her mom’s van screeched to a halt in the drive of the studio garage.

Forget the butterflies, hornets filled your stomach now. And they were angrily looking for a way out.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked weerily, holding your stomach.

“Absolutely!” Dianne beamed, turning to you from the front seat.

Your eyes finally caught the obvious problem outside your window.

“Um, Di?”

“Hmm?”

You blanched.

“Where is everyone?”

“Oh. My. Gosh. Well, what do you know! I must have completely forgot that everyone goes to the lacrosse games on Thursdays! Looks like we’re the only ones to watch today!”

It took all the zen you had not to throttle her little neck.

“Why do you hate me?” You cried out.

She giggled. “‘S all love, darling.”

“Dianne,” you begged, “you know our history.”

“And I know your chemistry too.”

You let out a small wail and looked out the tinted window at the studio garage. The doors were closed, but you could hear the muffled sound of guitars and drums warming up still.

Dianne had already stepped out of the van.

“Y/n, c’mon. We’re already late.”

“That was your idea!”

She held out her hand, giving you a pleading look.

“Di, I don’t know if I’m ready to face him again. So much had happened since-“

“Since you realized you liked him? And Danny got jealous and started that rumor?”

You nodded.

“Darling, that is the past. This is the now.”

“But what if-“

“Can I let you in on a little secret?”

You took a deep breath.

“Yeah?”

A small smile made its way onto her face.

“Reggie told me that Luke still has it bad for you.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You’re lying.”

She shook her head, smiling.

“I’m completely serious. That’s one of the reasons that Reggie was so excited to have us come today.”

You rolled your eyes.

“And what was the other reason?”

Dianne blushed.

“I may have told him that I would make out with him under the bleachers tomorrow at lunch.”

You smiled softly at her.

You were still a scarlet letter when you came back to school, so you couldn’t find anyone willing to be seen with your reputation. That was until you met Dianne, who was known as a serial home-wrecker. That wasn’t true, of course, but a bended truth of a spited ex-girlfriend. Still, she’d had more romantic exploits than you could count on your fingers and toes.

“C’mon, (y/n). Prince Charming is waitin’ for ya.”

You blushed as you made your way out.

•••••

There was a knock on the studio doors and three heads snapped up.

Alex, Reggie and Bobby all looked to each other and Luke.

Luke was facing a nook in the back, his headphones playing from a Walkman. He was still trying to see if he could learn the riff from Wonderwall by Oasis before you came in, but none of the boys wanted to be the one to nudge him with the way he was practically vibrating in his seat.

They shared a silent look before Reggie nodded knowingly.

“Rock, paper, scissors, boys.”

Alex turned to him, blinking.

“Reggie, there’s three of us. That’s not gonna- ok.”

Alex walked up to the door and opened it to reveal you and Dianne, both smiling nervously.

“Hellooo, Dianne,” Reggie crooned as Dianne waved at him, a suave smile painting his features. Dianne giggled beside you and you found yourself bristling with nerves.

“Uh, hey, y/n,” Alex greeted you warmly, nudging Bobby forward as well to greet you.

You pressed your lips in an awkward smile and forced your hand up into a wave. Your mind began to get caught in a cycle.

I should not have come I should not have come I should not have come-

“Hey, y/n, welcome to our practice. Because you both made the wonderful choice to come watch today, we have decided to gift you with free merch!” Reggie grinned, winking at Dianne.

“Reggie, all our merch is free-” Alex started, but Reggie pressed a finger to his lips, pressing them to the side as Alex glared at him. Bobby laughed and you quickly joined in, eager to rid yourself of your nerves. You all began to fall into comfortable banter and the boys were hilarious. Dianne was flirtingly feeling up Reggie’s bicep, asking him about his workout schedule.

“Oh, yeah,” Reggie said, his voice jokingly low and gruff. He flexed his arm. “I have quite a regime.”

Alex scoffed. “What regime? Your type of workout is chasing down the ice cream truck and lifting meatball subs to your mouth.”

“Hey,” Reggie said, turning to Alex with a look of betrayal on his face, “it is an intense regime none the less!”

Suddenly, there was a creaking sound from the back corner.

You stiffened.

The boys had forgotten about the tense guitarist behind them, who had been blocked from your and Dianne’s view by their figures.

A footstep. Another. Then another.

The boys parted and your heart stopped.

Two perfectly sparkling hazel eyes looked up at you through brown tasseled hair. And there it was, that beaming smile that warmed every inch of your body.

You were thrown back three years to the vision of that shy boy with a nervous bounce asking you for help with number three.

That same boy stood before you now, gazing at you like you were a triple-chocolate sundae surprise, a brand new guitar, an open stage, a raging crowd, and every answer he would ever need, all wrapped up in one person.

“Hello there, Sunshine,” he said, at last.

#luke patterson #jatp #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson one shot #julie and the phantoms fanfic #fanfic #sunset curve #reggie #alex #luke #netflix #jatp netflix

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