#and then when i finished it i thought 'is this actually good

[oneforthemunny]

made with love, my valentine |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: you recruit eddie's help to make valentines for your class.

contains: fluff. just lovey dovey, lovesick fluff. early in their relationship, but super sweet <3

“There?” 

Eddie grunted as lightly as he could, one hand holding the bouts of frilly, lace paper hearts, the other balancing the loaded staple gun that he should definitely not be holding so carelessly on a ladder. 

“Yes, that looks perfect.” You gave a quick nod from below, holding his ladder steady. 

Eddie caught a glimpse of the tiny smile you gave when your eyes met, beaming from the inside out the way you always did. His knees felt weak, heart skipping with an adrenaline rush of adoration and heat that poured out of his chest, crept all the way up to his cheeks. He hoped you couldn’t see, that his hair hid his blushing grin. 

“Perfect.” You grinned, stepping back when Eddie stepped down, work boots wedged into the old, creaky ladder. “That looks amazing. So much better than I could’ve done.”  

“I don’t think that’s true,” Eddie shook his head, looking around the fully decorated classroom. You’d gone all out. You always did, trying to make the holidays the very best for your kids. Decorating to the nines, even with the little supplies and budget you had. You were crafty, that was for sure, a talent that always left Eddie in complete and utter awe. 

“You did a helluva job without me. This place looks sick.” Eddie’s finger jammed against a paper heart that was dangling from the ceiling. 

“Sick is good right? Sick in a good way?” You giggled, light and airy. Eddie knew his heart was stopping. 

“Yeah, o-oh yeah, sorry, no, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like sick, bad. No, sick-sick means good. Sick in a good way, like a cool way, ya know? Or that’s what I meant. When I use it, it means good and cool, n-not ew sick as in ill-” Eddie’s cheeks flamed, stammering around fumbled words. The last thing he wanted was to insult you, he would never.

“I’m joking with you, Ed.” You grinned, bumping your hip playfully against his. “I’m glad you like it. It took me hours.” 

“Right, yeah,” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hours?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I had some of it from the years before, but most of the glue started coming undone, or they got all crinkled, so I had to start over.” You shook your head lightly. “My hands are completely torn apart. I have so many paper cuts.” You giggled, holding up your hands for Eddie to see. He had to fight the urge to hold them, intertwine your fingers in his like you had the weekend before. 

“Looks pretty gnarly, sweetheart.” Eddie sucked in a breath, pointer finger tracing over the cut on your knuckle, leaving you shuddering. “Should’ve asked me to help. Could’ve at least brought you some gloves to wear.” 

“It was fine. I did it during my planning period mostly.” Not a total lie. You had done most of it on your planning, and the other at home, until nearly two in the morning, when you were slumped over piles of shredded construction paper and glue sticks. 

“But, if you’re offering,” The sing-song in your voice had Eddie’s heart lurching with hope, trying to still himself, remain cool at your soft smile. “I do need to finish up making Valentine’s for the class.” 

You paused, giving him a tiny grin, lip tucked between your teeth. “And by finish, I mean I haven’t actually started.” Your lashes batted at him so sweetly, like you needed to sway him. Like he was on the fence of saying no, rejecting spending time with you? As if.   

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Eddie tried to play it cool, shoving his hands in his utility pants pockets. “Whatever you need me for. I’ve finished for the night, so y’know… ‘M all yours.” 

“Well,” You hummed, neck craning to look at the clock. “If you’re done, I thought maybe we could go back to my place?” Eddie was sure he was going to pass out, head reeling at your words. 

“I just think that would be a little more comfy just to not… be here, ya know? I can order us a pizza and we can knock these out.” You paused for a moment, really scanning Eddie’s features. “Maybe you could stay the night if you want? If it gets too late.” 

“Yes,” Eddie blurted before his mind could rationalize him stopping, eyes wide and words dripping with eagerness. “I mean, yeah, that would be… great.”  

“Great,” You repeated, your own heart thumping with excitement that spilled all the way to your face, lips curling in a wide grin. “I just, um, let me grab a few things, and- You remember where it is, right?” 

How could he forget? Eddie had been beyond nervous, palms too sweaty every time he came to pick you up. The handful of dates you’d been on were slowly becoming more and more frequent. 

“Yeah, I do.” Eddie’s lips twitched, swallowing down his excitement, maybe his nerves. “I just gotta put this up and lock up, and I’ll meet you there?” 

“See you in a few.” The words squeezed out of your chest, clutching your planner close to your body, slinging your purse over your shoulder. 

“Oh, is pepperoni okay with you?” You stopped, turning the lock to your classroom, your voice echoing down the dim lit hallway towards Eddie. Damn, he had moved fast with that ladder, practically sprinted down the hall. 

“Perfect for me.” Eddie called back, curls bobbing when he nodded. He’d nearly flung the ladder into the small hole of a janitor’s closet, snatching his lunch pail and keys before sprinting to the front, locking up and sailing down the cement stairs at the front of the school. 

Every second that went by was a second too long, tires flying over the snow dusted roads that led to your small home. The porch light was on when he arrived, bright and warm and welcoming. 

Eddie hesitated for a moment, whether he should ring the bell or just walk in. You knew he was coming, what would be the harm in going in? Still, it felt rude just to barge right in. Just to walk in felt arrogant, and what if you were naked? What if you were naked? Eddie’s cheeks began to heat, squirming at the thought. 

“Hey,” The door opened before Eddie could decide, leaving him standing there, wide eyed and blinking in your presence. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You giggled, leaning against the doorframe lightly. 

“I couldn’t remember if I left it unlocked or not, and then I saw you standing here, so…” You trailed off, a little unsure of what to say, what not to say. It was all still so new. 

“Yeah, s-sorry, I, uh, I was just trying to see if I-I left my wallet in the van.” Eddie stuttered out a lie, patting his pocket for emphasis, heart slightly dropping when he didn’t feel it there. Shit, did he leave it in the van? 

“No worries, um, come on in.” You stepped back, opening the door for him. 

Eddie immediately was wrapped in a warmth, a soft, sweet aroma that smelt entirely yours. He loved it, the few times he’d come over, every time it left him just as light and airy. 

“Thanks so much for coming to help me.” You hummed, watching Eddie carefully from your place in the door frame as he shed his winter jacket, hanging it on the hook. “I thought I was going to be up all night again trying to make these.” 

“Again?” Eddie lifted a brow, his tone teasing. “Sweetheart, you just call me whenever, alright? I’ll come over any time and help you out. Even if it’s the middle of the night.” 

Your giggle was music to his ears, heart bursting at your smile. “That’s sweet, thank you.” Your smile warmed over him, left him spinning with desire. “I just need to finish these. I have six done, I think?” 

Eddie followed you into your kitchen, stacks of construction paper laid out with scissors and hot glue guns, a list of names propped on the middle. “It was easier last year. I only had twenty-two kids, but with the zoning and all these new kids coming in…” You shook your head lightly, thirty-three kids listed on the attendance sheet. Eddie remembered Steve bitching about it at the beginning of the school year. He still wasn’t sure how either one of you handled it, but you both made it work, despite the district uncaring. 

“Yeah, I bet it’s… rough.” Eddie nodded, pulling out a seat. “You just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m yours for the night.” 

Your smile spread, sitting next to Eddie. You showed him how to cut the hearts out, hot glue the paper lace on the edges, then press the other heart on the back to hide it. Eddie made them, setting them to the side so you could address them. 

The better part of two hours was spent in your kitchen, giggling and chatting over pizza and beer, wiping your greasy fingers off on napkins so it didn’t stain the cards. You both wanted them to be pristine, perfect. 

“So, uh, what-” Eddie cleared his throat gently, trying to shake the rattle in his voice from his nerves. “What are you doin’ on Valentine’s Day?” 

He felt your eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. “A-Any big plans?” Eddie cringed at the tweaking crack in his voice. He felt like he was in junior high again, asking Lisa Caltrelli out to the Sweethearts Dance. He hoped you wouldn’t reject him like she did. 

“No,” Your voice squeaked in response, creasing the paper between your fingers from your tight grip. You don’t know why you were so nervous, I mean, Eddie and you had been out before. It shouldn’t have shocked you so much when he asked you, but still, you were filled with an excited thrill. 

“No, I-I didn’t really plan to do anything. I mean, I would like to, but I just… I haven’t made plans.” You winced at your babbled answer, anything but cool. 

There was a pause, one that left your heart dropping with fear, your hands shook when you cut out the heart on red construction paper. “Um, well, I-I was just wondering if, if you’re not busy- shit, well, I know you just said you’re not busy. I just- I was wondering if you’d want to maybe go and get dinner?” Eddie’s wide eyes met yours, rounded with complete and utter fear and hope, like a deer in headlights. 

“With me?” His mouth was dry, heart beating so fast he could feel it in his eyeballs, sweat starting to bead at his hairline.

You tried to swallow down your own excitement, heart soaring with adrenaline, biting back a wide grin and a squeal. “Yeah,” You nodded, lips curling and eyes shining. “Yeah, I would. I would love to go out with you again.” 

“Really?” Eddie blinked, the words falling from his mouth before he could stop them. “I mean, really? Uh, great, that sounds… great.” Eddie ducked his own head down, gluing the paper lace to the heart, hoping his curls hid his pink cheeks and dimpled grin. 

“I was thinking we could go to Dino’s- Do you like Italian food?” 

“Yeah, I do. Love Dino’s.” You nodded. 

“Great. Um, my buddy, Jeff is the manager there now, and they do this Valentine’s Day special. It’s- It’s not anything crazy, they just put like candles and rose petals and shit on the tables, but he said he could get us in.” Eddie’s knee bounced, buzzing with excitement. 

“That sounds amazing,” You tapped the pen against the table, lips twitching with a smile you tried to hide. “It’s a date.” 

Eddie laughed, grinning so wide you thought your heart might burst. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Is that enough time?” 

“That’s perfect. I’ll have to clean up after the Valentine’s Day party, but-” 

“-I’ll help you.” Eddie nodded eagerly. “I’ll swing by after I get done in the cafeteria. I’ll help you clean up.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly, ducking back to your craft. 

Eddie’s hands were clammy when he leaned in to kiss you later that night, at your doorway, under the glow of the street lamp outside. He was even more surprised when you wrapped your arms around him, pulled him closer and deeper into the kiss, one that left you both swooning and heads swirling with adoration. 

The next morning, Eddie was beyond pumped, eager for the day, knowing he had a date tonight. He nearly missed the small red heart that was waiting on his desk- a Valentine, from you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie. I can’t wait to see you tonight.” 

[0mg-bird]

Something Positive- S. Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem Agent Reader

Summary: 99 negative things and 1 positive. How will it ever turn out okay?

Warnings: season 7, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy fear, nausea, mention of miscarriage talks, Spencer being scared and probably says the wrong things 😭 anyway, fluffy, but also depressing themes. I haven’t finished proofreading, oops lol idc.

You’re supposed to know your body and every little change it makes because, well, it’s your body.

So blame this all on your brain that often skips over the small things that it should really pay attention to. You could have suspected this earlier if you would’ve just slowed down for two seconds, but what difference would it make if you came to the conclusion earlier?

Absolutely none.

The test in your hand would still be positive and you would still have the feeling you do now.

A mixture of fear and devastation.

Spencer isn’t in the apartment you just moved into a month ago, he’s at Rossi’s with the rest of the team like you’re supposed to be. But you played the flu card and forced him to go without you. Then you forced yourself to the corner store and bought two pregnancy tests, a back up for good measure. It isn’t needed, the two lines are almost bold as they stare at you. The dates of the calendar back it up, as well as the queasiness about you.

You’re pregnant.

You. You are pregnant.

That can’t be.

You throw away the test, all the evidence goes into the trash and you try to calm your racing heart. You wash your hands and your face, though tears just keep falling no matter what.

This really wasn’t supposed to happen, it shouldn’t be happening. You’re traveling so often for cases, and there’s so much going on with the team. Emily just came back from the dead, literally, that’s already too much to deal with, you don’t need to add anymore stress to the team. You’re no help if you’re pregnant.

Spencer won’t be any help either if his main concern is you.

Staring at your reflection, you suddenly don’t feel real. You rub your eyes and push your hair back, overwhelmed with so many feelings, you can’t distinguish one from the other.

You do know one feeling from the rest.

The urge to bolt.

Blame the hormones, but you quickly leave the bathroom and slip into a pair of shoes, then grab for your coat and keys, and just like that, you’re gone.

Wandering aimlessly, you suck the evening air into your lungs as you walk the streets, past shops and people with different lives. You’re lost in thought, no better than a zombie as you continue to wipe your eyes.

It took you and Spencer long enough to even get together, you just finished placing your things in his apartment, there’s no room for a crib. He has far too many books, he’d have to sacrifice even more space for things a baby needs. The both of you work odd hours and sleep in bad motel rooms and fly all over the country and get shot at. You aren’t an expert but that doesn’t seem healthy.

There is no room for a baby in your life. Period.

The team has only experienced pregnancy with JJ and-

JJ.

Your friend who would know exactly what to do and how to help, the friend you have given the cold shoulder to ever since you found out that she let you mourn Emily, your best friend, for weeks and weeks. She let you cry and talk about how hard things have been for and Spencer, especially Spencer, and she didn’t say a single thing that she knew Emily was okay.

You have a feeling of bitterness now to join your emotion smoothie.

Up ahead, you see a tired mother trying to pull her crying toddler out of a drugstore. Her hair is tied up, she’s tugging at the child, giving up on arguing with him.

You turn around and decide home is actually where you need to be so you don’t vomit up your nerves in public.

When Spencer comes home, you’re sitting at the bottom of the tub, cheek to your knees as the spray of the shower hits you from above. You hear him take off his shoes and coat and walk to the bedroom, more than likely changing. He’s definitely tired.

He knocks on the bathroom door, checking on you.

“Hey, you feeling alright, angel?”

You sigh. He’s so perfect, arguably the best thing that’s ever happened in your life, and you’re going to ruin him with this news.

“I’ll be out in a second.” You call back, smoothing your hands over your hair, then look at the rings on your fingers.

Sliding one from your right hand to your left, you decide your ring finger just is going to stay bare.

“They missed you tonight, Emily said that you call her first if you need anything.” Spencer says as you rub lotion into your skin while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You hum.

“I think she’s just overcompensating, but she means well.” He claims, pulling the covers back.

You can’t tell him tonight, it’s not the right time. Instead you’ll just get some sleep, laying on your side, facing the window. As Spencer lays behind you, you push away his hand that splays on your stomach.

He goes a little stiff with confusion, but holds your hip without question, then whispers he loves you, like he does every night.

You live out a routine for the next following days to come. You wake up tired, you tell Spencer that you never get over the flu easily and that’s why you have the urge to throw up at any given second. When you’re tired of laying on the couch, you go back to work where everyone shares a look at how moody you can be.

“Is everything…okay?”

You look up from the evidence photos to find Hotch.

Most of the team is out all over the town you just got in, trying to solve the disappearance of three young girls.

Hotch suggested you stay at the police station with him for a while, giving Spencer some air after you snapped at him for no apparent reason.

“Everything’s fine.” You say, looking back down at the crime scene pictures.

“Is everything alright with you and Reid?” He pushes.

“Yes, we’re fine. I just hate it when he hovers, drives me crazy.” You huff, not giving him your attention.

Hotch had always been a sort of father to you. Almost like how Gideon was a mentor to Spencer, Hotch tried his hardest not to act like it but he was always very protective of you. No one could really blame him, he helped you through many things over the years, and along the way he became your family. So it makes sense that he’s questioning you now with a furrowed brow.

“I want you to know that if something is going on and you felt like you were alone…you aren’t. The whole team would move mountains for you.” He says in a very fatherly tone, a tone that has always seemed to affect you but never in the way it does now.

You quickly blink away tears and nod. “I just don’t feel well, but I’ll be okay.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and as Hotch looks you over, he proves how good of a profiler he really is. Slowly, he sits at the table and takes the papers from your hand, which is probably good, you’ve been staring at them for too long. Your eyes lift up to him.

“Does Reid know?”

Three words, and you want to flee.

“No.” You say hoarsely.

He nods in understanding. “This isn’t something you can do alone, but I understand if you need some time away to figure things out.”

You wrap your arms around your stomach, something you’ve been doing subconsciously. “This is my job.” You say.

“And it’s really stressful, so if you need some downtime, I’m glad to give it to you.”

Nodding, you understand. “Don’t tell anyone.” You ask of him, knowing he’d never betray you like that.

For two moments, you have a sense of peace.

And then Spencer and Morgan return, causing you to slip a mask back on and pretend you’re fine.

By some miracle, you get through the case and get home without any problems. Spencer on the other hand is convinced that you’re going through a mental break.

“Still tired?” He asks gently, at the end of the week, sitting on the bed and rubbing your leg as you bury yourself in the comforter.

You wordlessly nod, then try to sort out your thoughts.

“Baby?” He calls softly, a name he hardly ever calls you. “I think we should take you to a doctor.”

“Why?” You croak.

You know why. Spencer thinks you’re depressed, which you can’t really blame him, you’ve been laying in bed most of the day, turning your nose up at the idea of food, knowing it will all just make you feel sick. Your boyfriend is a great profiler, he notices your odd behavior these past couple days but he still can’t figure out why.

“I’m…I think they can tell you what’s wrong with you- not that anything is wrong with you but…there’s something wrong, isn’t there?”

Bless him and his softness he unconditionally shows you, but you just don’t have it in you to match his tenderness.

“I’m fine.” You state, tone not meaning it.

Before he can deny it and rub your leg again, you sit up too quickly and flee him, foolishly thinking he’ll stay put. Spencer is a golden retriever, though, so he follows loyally, only for the bathroom door to be slammed in his face.

“I’m concerned about you, okay?” He calls, voice muffled through the wood. “And I get scared when you just brush it off, brush me off.”

You stand at the sink, head drooped. The tears start slow, they fall into the basin. What was wrong with you? You have a man as good as Spencer and you’re ruining everything.

You fall into a dangerous storm of negative thoughts, all aimed at you like it’s target practice. The tears fall much quicker now, hot and sticky, your hand presses to your mouth to keep the sobs away.

Spencer hears you squeak, and immediately opens the door you should have locked.

You turn to face him, dropping the hand to your stomach.

His features twist into something of sadness and utter concern, he’s standing in front of you in just two steps.

“What is it?” He questions, holding your face in his hands, thumbs wiping at your tears. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?”

You can’t. You have to say it but you can’t.

A breath shutters through you and you shake your head. “Spence.”

“I’m right here, it’s alright.” He promises, so adamant that he can help.

“I…”

“Just breathe-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You’ve never seen him stop talking so fast. His mouth hangs open for a moment, then it closes.

All the years you’ve known Spencer, he’s never been at a loss for words. He’s trying so hard to just say something and he can’t. Maybe it’s the fear in your eyes that has him drawing a blank, maybe it’s the fact that he’s come up with ninety nine possibilities and this is the one he didn’t imagine.

“Okay.” He says after a heavy silence. “Okay, that’s, well it’s definitely something.”

Your tears don’t stop, in fact they might just fall heavier now.

He’s mad- no, he’s upset. He doesn’t want this and now everything is ruined. Your fears are coming true.

You pull his hands from his face, then brush past him.

He calls your name. “Wait, I don’t mean it like that. I just didn’t think about this, I haven’t planned for this yet.”

You pull one of his sweatshirts on and slide into your sneakers, not bothering with the laces before you slip from the apartment with a sense of deja vu, vanishing just like that.

- - - -

You’re not even sure how you got here, you’re sure you look like a wreck, but it’s too late to turn back now.

The door opens and JJ’s face morphs into confusion.

“Hey, Jay.” You try to smile, but when she opens the door wider and pulls you inside so quickly, it’s hard to maintain a composure.

You ramble, she lets you. For ten straight minutes you go on and on about everything, because you’ve had all of these thoughts bottled up and now you resemble something of a ship sinking beneath the waves. You apologize, you’re so sorrowful and tell her how wrong you are for saying all the hurtful things you said to her. She sits beside you on her couch while Will is upstairs with Henry. At some point she starts crying too because that’s what best friends do when their other half is saying she doesn’t know what to do. By the end of the confession and rant, you physically can’t cry anymore and your nose is red, face splotchy, and you just look at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Slowly, she takes your hand and says your name, grounding you.

“No one is going to say this to you so I will.” She says. “You’re not a monster for being scared.”

Your lungs exhale and she continues.

“But all of these concerns are just anxiety, they aren’t real. You can still do your job, the team won’t hate you, you are capable of doing this, life isn’t going to fall apart.”

She’s so sure, you’re practically forced to believe her.

“Spencer.” You mumble, watching as she takes a breath and nods like she knows.

“Reid is…Reid has the highest IQ and still doesn’t know the right thing to say. But this is news you sprung on him and he’s never had to deal with this sort of thing. He’s scared too.” She reminds, a little more honest with her words now that you’ve calmed down.

Just as you open your mouth to say something, her phone rings from its spot on the coffee table.

She squeezes your knee and grabs for it.

“It’s Spencer.” She says before answering it.

You can’t hear exactly all the words he says, but based off JJ’s reaction, he’s clearly panicked.

“Spencer- hey, slow down. It’s okay. No, she’s here with me. She’s fine.”

You feel guilty, so incredibly guilty. You left your cell in the apartment, not bothering to bring it with you, and the idea of Spencer freaking out because he has no way of reaching you, has your stomach churning.

Or maybe it’s the fact you’re starving.

Canons of your self destruction fire off at yourself, you’re sitting with your head hung as JJ talks him down. This wasn’t her job, this was yours. He’s your partner.

What are you doing?

As she hangs up, she gives you look, knowing you’re already heading for the door.

“Be easy on him, okay?” She says, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright.”

What a simple thing for her to say and a not so simple thing to do.

You go home, trying to rehearse conversations in your head. Surely, you look odd on the subway, whispering to yourself, trying to anticipate what Spencer will say. A few people shuffle off at a stop, and the seat across from you opens up. A woman takes it, she has a baby wrapped in a sling, it’s napping with its head on her bust and when she pulls the cover back, you can see it’s perfect round head. She gently strokes its fuzzy, brown hair and hushes it softly when it stirs.

Maybe life wouldn’t be so bad if that were you, feeling your child’s warmth.

When you get to the front door of your apartment, you take in one final breath and decide you can face the music.

You open the door, kick off your shoes and are immediately feel the rug getting yanked out from under you.

“You can’t just storm out!” Spencer says rather loudly, giving the reaction you didn’t want. “And leaving your phone here? Giving me no way to reach you? I called everyone!”

He’s angry.

“I was with JJ.” You say softly.

“Well, I know that now.” He huffs.

Shrugging off your coat, you gently approach.

“I’m sorry I worried you, please don’t shout.”

At your meek tone, Spencer immediately softens, scorning himself for being abrasive. He runs his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes, trying to get himself back in check.

“I’m sorry. Can- can we just sit down and talk about this, please?” He asks, moving to sit on the worn couch.

After a second, you follow.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He wants to reach out and touch you, but given the way you seem to shrink into yourself, he just rubs his knees over and over again.

“How long have you known?” He asks, though he has some estimates.

You slowly breathe out. “A couple weeks.”

His lungs burn. A couple weeks?

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your fingernails dig into your palms. “I was scared…I’m still scared.” And all that work to avoid his eye, you finally meet that puppy dog look of his and immediately break down.

You just can’t seem to stop crying. Why are you crying all the time?

“I’m so scared, Spencer, I’m so scared.” You shudder out, and those hands he awkwardly kept to himself are now pulling you to him, cradling your head to his chest and putting your legs in his lap.

“Hey, I know, I know. And I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, I made it worse, I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair before moving his lips to your forehead. “I was surprised is all.”

“You aren’t mad at me?” You tremble, gripping his shirt. Never in your life have you been this clingy, and if the circumstances were different, you’d be embarrassed by this child like behavior. Spencer doesn’t mind it at all, he’s holding you like he’s the glue keeping you together.

“I’m not mad. I’m a little sad you didn’t tell me sooner, but I’m not mad. Why would I be mad at you?”

With his fingers in your hair, you take a few quick breaths. “I ruined everything.” You say as a cry.

He hates those words that just came out of your mouth.

Spencer shifts, pulling back to look at your face, red and tear streaked.

“Hey.” He coos. “You haven’t ruined anything, sweetheart, don’t even think that.”

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you shake your head. “My career is over, the team is going to be inconvenienced, and you- you’re never going to be able to do your job the same. All the work you’ve done, it’s just ruined, I’ve done this to you.”

He cups your damp cheek. “Stop, stop. Listen to me, can you do that?”

You shut your mouth and nod.

“Good.” He says. “Now, you haven’t done anything wrong. It takes two to tango, yeah? The team is going to be elated, Penelope is going to throw this biggest party ever. We worked it out when JJ had Henry, we can do it again.”

There’s a way he can say all these things and it just makes sense in your mind. You nod along, this makes him smile.

“And as for me..” He tucks hair behind your ear. “I would give up all my degrees, I’d throw away all the progress and work I’ve done if it meant the only thing I had in my life was you and a baby that’s my own.”

You love him. You’ve never loved him more than you do now, in this moment, starving and crying and so scared. That’s why you lean forward and press your trembling lips to his, trying to steal the oxygen from his lungs.

Spencer is willing to breathe into your open mouth, even if it meant he’s have no part of himself left that was just his. In his mind, he doesn’t want Spencer to be Spencer, he wants your imprint in every part of himself so he’s no longer just him.

He kisses your hairline and then places your back in that space between his collar bone and jaw, it’s carved only for you anyway.

“Tell me everything that scares you.” He instructs, finger circling your bent knee.

You can’t say ‘everything’, so you say what you can form into words.

“It’s so soon, we haven’t talked about this yet.” You start.

“It’s a little early, but we have a home and a stable income and I love you and I want this if you want this.” He says so simply, as if he’s bandaging a paper cut.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I could be really bad at it.” You state.

“We’ll figure it out together, I don’t know what to do either, but no one really does. But there is no way you will be a bad mom. That’s my professional opinion.”

You laugh lightly, he grins and subtly squeezes you.

“But what if it all goes bad? What if I can’t make it healthy, what if I…what if I lose it? Spencer, I don’t think I could live with myself if I was the reason you don’t get a living, breathing baby.” It hurts your chest to even say.

Spencer gently shushes you. “We won’t let that happen. We’ll make sure you’re healthy and doing everything you can to prevent that.”

You let that ease you into silence, then you wipe your eyes once more because you can’t stop crying.

“We’re not married.”

Did you say that out loud?

You must have because Spencer hums, not startled, but he mulls it over in his head.

“Does that matter to you?” He asks, genuinely curious. And you don’t know how to answer because you didn’t think it did.

But you said it, it’s been on your mind…so yeah, it might matter.

“Yeah, I guess…I don’t know.” You sigh, nudging your nose against his neck.

Spencer considers it, then hums like he does when he understands something. “Then we’ll get married.”

It’s the way he says it, so easy, makes you shake your head. “No, I don’t want you to marry me just because I’m pregnant now. Besides, planning a whole wedding is stressful.”

“That’s not why I said it, lovely. Yeah, we’re having this conversation because you’re pregnant but I want to marry you because it means something to me too. I don’t want to do life with anybody else besides you.” He states, dropping his chin to the top of your head, keeping you close to his pulse. “And a big wedding isn’t our style anyway. We can go to the courthouse right now if it’s what you want. Tomorrow you’ll have your name changed- or keep it, if that’s what you want.”

How perfect, how wonderful he is, and how lucky you are to be doing this with him.

Breathing in his scent once again, you nod. “I want to have the same last name as our baby. Oh god, our baby. That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever said.” You gently laugh.

“I like hearing it, though.” He says, a boyish smile, though he’s never been more of a man than in this moment.

You didn’t think your day would end like this, and perhaps this decision isn’t properly thought out, but the two of you want this.

You make it to the courthouse house just as they’re about to close, with the flashes of your credentials, they make a few exceptions. You don’t have rings, that part will get figured out later, and you there’s no grand catering, just Chinese food on the living room floor. It’s all perfect though, because you’re married and so in love with him and he’s giving you the last egg roll.

“You know, I didn’t think it was possible to be so hungry and nauseous at the same time.” You say, slurping up a noodle, washing it down with a Coke.

“You know, the fetal placenta produces a hormone called human chorionic gonadotropin that’s rapidly increasing, and if the mother is more sensitive to it, then they’re more nauseous.” Spencer states factually, proud that his knowledge applies to this.

“How do I cure it, Doctor?” You ask, a fond smile on your face.

“Don’t skip meals, like you have been doing. No more of that. We’re going to have to call your doctor tomorrow, and start prenatal vitamins. You know, if we push the dresser into the closet and shift the brown bookshelf over a few feet, that will free up space for a crib. You’ll want a side sleeper bassinet though, it slides right next to the bed so you don’t have to get out of bed as often.”

Having a baby with Doctor Spencer Reid was like having the next nine months planned out for you. As he rambles on with all the things that will need to be done, you laugh and lean over, kissing him to get him to pause.

“What was that for?” He asks, kissing you once more.

“I love you, that’s all.” I smile.

Tracing your jawline with his finger, he grins right back at you. “I love you too.”

After a moment, you speak again. “Am I a doctor now?” You ask.

“What? No.” He shakes his head.

“I’m technically Mrs. Doctor Reid.”

“Angel.” He laughs.

“That’s Doctor Angel to you.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 4

You've already won.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, discussion of past bad experiences (sexual and general relationships), toys, jk is more dominant in this, NSFW, size kink if you squint, Subspace, a teeny bit of Angst, a little of fluff, brat behavior

Wordcount: 6k

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: screw it i can't hold this back any longer. Sorry if it's disappointing..

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You never really knew that Jungkook is actually a pretty good home-cook.

Obviously, he is no michelin star collector, his chaotic nature bleeding through his every move- but it's still clear that he has skill and a genuine passion for what he’s doing. It feeds, however, also into your own personal observation about him; that while he is a dominant person by nature who enjoys controlling situations to their fullest, he’s also a pleaser. He seems to thrive most the moment you tell him you trust him, when you let him lead or even just seek out physical contact to him. It reminds you of what he told you before.

‘As long as you make me feel wanted, I’ll be just fine.’

“You’re staring.” Jungkook chuckles as he finishes cleaning the dishes from your shared breakfast earlier. There has been some tension between you, and you know he’s waiting for you this time. The training wheels are slowly coming off, and he’s becoming less and less easy on you. It's exciting because you also feel.. like you could challenge him.

And whatever the punishment, you’ll take it.

But no matter what you tried and try, nothing really seems to get a proper reaction out of him. So when you sit in front of him now on the couch that acts as your bed as well for this week, you’re stunned. “What?” You ask, making him repeat his words. You’ve just offered him yourself, told him you want to have proper sex, and instead of taking the chance, he wants to…?

“I said:” He smiles impishly as he speaks, “Get me off without touching me, and I’ll fuck you the way you want.” He repeats his lewd sentence freely as ever, long having shed the shame about the topic.

Well, the task itself isn’t what you didn’t understand. It’s more so, that you don’t understand why it needs to be so difficult? “but- I thought you want this?” You argue weakly, and he nods.

“I do.” He agrees. “that, and so much more. But you also wanted me to stop being so soft with you.” He repeats your request, and in a way, you want to smack your past self for making this so difficult for you now. “also, trust me- it’ll be a lot more interesting this way.” He almost seems to joke, and you can clearly see and feel just how excited he is as well.

Because deep down, you can understand it.

And you’re ready to take on the challenge.

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The entire rest of the day, you attempt to distract him from his placed challenge the best you can. If you can trick him into forgetting his own rules, maybe you can somehow cheat your way to the goal?

Jungkook however sems to have a sixth sense for your antics however. No matter what you do to try and get his attention, his patience never seems to snap. If anything, it just seems to amuse him- and that’s not quite what you were aiming for.

What you also weren’t aiming for was the fact that he could turn your wonderful plans against you in a heartbeat- the remote controlled toy inside you buzzing to life yet again while you went to read something on your phone on the couch. It’s been happening for almost an hour now, randomly- and never enough to really get you off properly.

Your plan was simple; after a bit of research, you read that some guys are really into the controlling part of the toy, but that it would often lead to more than that later on. So you not-so-subtly told Jungkook that you had taken the toy, and not only that- you'd mentioned that you were ‘wearing’ it, too. The look on Jungkook’s face was surprised at first- but quickly shifted, gaze changing as he acknowledged what you had informed him of.

What you didn’t think about, was that Jungkook isn’t just some guy.

He knows how to control himself, and he knows how to control others even better it feels like. A text on your phone makes your skin run hot, as it only displays a simple message.

[Don’t you dare cum.]

It’s not even like he can see you! The buzzing of the toy is a strange rhythm, and you move your hands between your thighs to shift things a bit, when Jungkook’s voice is heard.

“Can’t follow basic instructions when you’re not supervised, huh?” He chuckles, walking into the open kitchen to open the fridge and take out a bottle of soda. “I said don’t cum. Get your hands off your cunt.” He commands before unscrewing the plastic cap and bringing the neck of the bottle towards his lips to drink from it.

For some reason, you do exactly as he says. But the way he said it did not really make your situation any better.

“Not too sure where you were going with this plan of yours-” He teases, as he walks closer to you, bottle still in hand. “-But I’m giving points for creativity.” He chuckles, holding the bottle out for you. “You look thirsty, darling.” He jokes.

You glare at him, trying not to shift in order not to make it worse for yourself. But still, you look at the beverage with a bit of longing- maybe drinking something can help you calm down?

Wrong.

Especially when it’s his hand underneath your chin that holds your face at the right angle to make you drink from the bottle, look in his eyes sharp and devilish to say the least. He’s visibly happy about the clear display of dominance over you, maybe even amused by it? In a way, you don’t care. This side of Jungkook is new, and you feel excitement over the whole ordeal.

Maybe your plan is working?

But as soon as you’re done drinking, he reaches into the pocket of his pants, and turns off the device with a simple tap on his touchscreen.

“Take it out, princess.” He says, nodding towards your legs.

You stare, and wait.

“Too hard to follow?” He asks you in fake worry. “Okay, simpler terms then. Get up.” He waves his hand up, and your legs seem to move for a second without your command- making you embarrassed, before you roll your eyes and still follow his request. Standing in front of him, he nods, before he taps at your hips. “Strip.” He tells you as a next step, and you almost stubbornly kick off your shorts. “Strip further, baby.” He emphasizes, but there’s a dangerous undertone to it.

You’re testing a limit.

You slowly move to push your panties off your legs- fabric clinging to your wet folds for a second before it falls to your feet. Much to your surprise however, Jungkook gets to his knees right in front of your exposed legs- before he taps your thighs on the inside- a silent command to part your legs.

This is an oddly embarrassing position to be in. Strangely. Because technically, he’s seen it all- so why does this make you feel so.. Small?

Maybe it’s his gaze. Maybe it’s the fact that despite being in a lower position, he still controls the situation. Or maybe it’s just because it’s him.

His fingers pull on the tail of the toy that’s still outside, making your core clench involuntarily. “No.” Jungkook lowly warns. “Give it up.” He commands, and you want to look away from the scene so badly as you relax your muscles- toy finally slipping out, hanging warm and wet from Jungkook’s fingers that still hold onto the tail end of it.

You feel empty.

“Go wash up.” He kisses your cheek, tone kind again. “But no fun times in there. I’ll be checking when you come out.” Jungkook warns, and you groan in agony-

Though you have to admit, that it’s kind of fun.

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Its late, and you’re both breathing heavily.

This happened rather spontaneously to be honest- a commercial break having broken your attention to the TV show you were both watching, making Jungkook turn it off entirely before focusing on you instead. After that steamy Makeout session of the two lovers in the show, you’d stolen glances at Jungkook any second you could, stolen orgasms from the entire early day still leaving you unsatisfied and hungry for any kind of release.

And it did not go unnoticed.

Maybe it's been tough on him too, because it feels as if he can’t undress you fast enough- hands struggling with the clasp of your bra in the back for a moment, before he groans in anger about it, and just pushes the whole garment up to reveal your chest to him, fabric pulled over your head in it’s entirety. He’s hungry, clearly so- but you’re struggling on your end, despite the misery.

This is what you wanted. Something soft, slow, romantic. But right now, all it does is cause you frustration.

And you wonder why.

Did he taint you so much that you’re now forever stained with the way he does things, so much so that you’ll forever seek what he’s offered? Has he ruined you to the point of no return, that no ‘normal’ form of bedroom love can fulfill your needs any longer? This is what you had wanted at the start- something calm, casual, something you know. But for some reason, there’s something awoken inside you that makes you yearn for his touch to be more demanding, more exciting, more enticing than this. Have you gone mad?

Or are you simply not seeing the bigger picture?

His lips on your skin are sensual, warm but not hot, gentle, caring, affectionate. His hands never grab too hard, only brush over you, map out your body as if he needs to remind himself of every curve you have.

You want more. Need more. This is too slow. Or is it?

His tongue over your chest makes your breath hitch, back arching off the mattress as he gently bites your hardened bud, pulling it a little, always teasing, never going rough. You never imagined you’d want more than that, but there’s this sudden need to be absolutely ruined by him.

And that’s somehow exactly what he’s doing.

His hand only occasionally finds its way between your legs to spread around your leaking arousal, even sometimes taunting you by using it to cover his bare length in it, hand only slowly moving to close around it in a fist, hips thrusting into his hand, a mere glimpse offered at what he could be giving you.

You know he’s warm. Heavy, and thick. More than the toy could’ve offered you last time. You want him, as deep as he can go.

Your brain is filled with the most obscene visuals of his cum leaking out of you, filling you up until there’s no space for anything else. It’s as if you’ve gone rabid, head no longer functioning, only instincts left and the need for that very specific pleasure only he can offer you.

You’re a slave to his touch, and you’re not even upset about it.

“Nuh-uh.” He chuckles, as you try and reach for him. “Patience.” He scolds softly.

“Please-!” You whine, but its not working at all as he leans over you, his cock rubbing over your stomach, way to far away from where you need him most. “jungkook-“

“You sound so sweet when you beg.” He purrs, licks and bites at your neck, kisses placed with meaning behind them. “I think I could cum just from this.” He chuckles. “Can you?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Need you..” you whine.

“You have me.” Jungkook reassures you. “I’m right here.” He offers, but you reach out to touch him, this time trying to keep your self control, only letting your fingers run over his abdomen. “Such a good girl. Following rules so well.” He tells you with amusement in his tone.

It’s the rule, after all. You’re allowed to touch, to feel, to move. Just not there.

You’ll have to get creative if you want to get him off without touching him at all. Because if you do- you win. And the grand prize will be what you’ve begun to anticipate with eagerness and excitement, and no more fear.

Because it’s Jungkook.

And you’re starting to no longer think you’re falling in love with him-

But believe in it.

Suddenly, there is an idea in your head. Jungkook had made the mistake of not making the rules too clear- which means that you’ve got a bit of room to play with, as you collect your thoughts and form a new plan. He’s clearly more than just aroused, tip leaking onto your lower stomach, and that alone offers you an opportunity.

He spots the way your gaze changes instantly. Like something awoken inside you, the you that’s looking at him is no longer unsure or worried or holding back.

Your hands move between your legs, to spread your own arousal over the inside of your thighs, just for your legs to close up, and lift to be pushed towards your body- closing up on the very tip of his, and he gets the message crystal clear.

A smirk finds its way over his lips, as your hands reach for his hips.

“You want me to fuck your thighs, huh?” He chuckles, leaning in, accepting the offer seemingly and making your blood rush in your veins. You found it. You solved the problem. “cute.” He says, kissing your neck-

“But I said get me off, not make me do it myself.”

Your whole world crashes down as you realize the fatal flaw in your plan, leaving you at square one again. The frustration builds, making you whine for a moment before you snap- pushing at his chest to make him switch positions with you, his body now beneath yours. You’re not sure what to do now, a bit uncertain again as you feel too responsible in this position.

How’re you supposed to solve this?

Meanwhile Jungkook, beneath you, is mesmerized.

You know that the easy way out would be to simply jump over the rules, or give up- two options you probably would’ve made use of days prior without the experiences you’ve collected until now. But you’re following what he said, always staying on the road he set up for you, only ever looking at other ways possible, but you never dare to go against his orders.

So obedient. But what’s most amazing to him about it, is that you freely choose to be.

He’s been giving you options to take the lead left and right, but you willingly let him control you and the scene. The amount of trust you put in him makes him feel high almost, and it’s not just the fact that he’s feeling the ‘rush’ of somehow ‘corrupting’ you in any way. This isn’t just something that he feels because you play into his fantasies.

This is way more than that.

Suddenly, your body loses all tension, as you lean down on him, openly seeking his help without even asking. “A bit of a tough challenge, hm?” he reassures you, and you nod, stubborn as you sit back on his thighs, still unsure what you’re supposed to do. You’re not as adventurous as him, you don’t yet have this big collection of fantasies yet. So, in a way, he had expected this outcome- making him not even surprised, nor disappointed.

He could never be disappointed in you.

“Tell me what to do.” You request, and he watches you for a good second or two. Oh he definitely has more than a handful of ideas blossoming in his mind about what he’d love for you to do- but small steps, for now.

“I already told you, though.” He almost teases, not bowing down this easily. He’s not that quick to break under your doll-like eyes, he doesn’t falter at the way you lick your lips this quickly.

Suddenly, your gaze changes. You have an idea, and he’s curious to see it.

You remember one crucial thing about him he’s always made sure to emphasize; he doesn’t need much to come undone. Sex isn’t as straight forward with him as it is with others- some you simply need to think outside the box, and try seeing it from a different perspective. What makes him shiver? What made him sigh out in pleasure last time? What could potentially make him weak? And then it hits you.

Its right there. Right in front of you; and you simply failed to see it.

“What is it?” He asks, and you take a shuddering breath as you prepare yourself to be brave for once, before you say it.

“I don’t like this.”

Your eyes are closed, and you feel terrible for a good couple of seconds- because while it is an admission you knew you had to make, it still makes you feel incompetent and like a looser. You ruined the moment and failed his game, and not only that- you had to admit that this might just be too much for you. But this feeling doesn’t last long, because soon enough his hands hold your face to lift it towards him, your gaze finding his as he looks at you with what can only be described as pride.

“there we go.”

He needs you to understand exactly this. He needs you to feel safe, and not just in a simple way. You need to feel 100% comfortable before you can begin to rely on him to the point he so desperately wishes you would- and it looks like you’re beginning to understand this.

“That’s all it took baby.” He smiles encouragingly, hands moving to run over your skin, before he moves you to lay down on your back again. “I need you to say what you think. I want to know all your thoughts.” He almost whispers before he brings his lips down on your neck, still so careful with you.

“Jungkook-“ you sigh out, before you look at him. “-I think I can.” You spill out, unable to keep it in anymore- because if he wants to know all your thoughts, he should know this one too, as delicate as it is still.

“Can what?” He wonders, looking down at you from his position above your body.

“I think I can love you.”

The implications of this sentence are massive- because it finally gives him the feedback he was hoping to find. You want him, in every way, and it finally gives him the last push of confidence to really let you in. Now he can fully commit himself, try his hardest to make this work, because even if it doesn’t end up the way you both are hoping for, he knows that you at least want this.

You want more than sex.

You want him.

His kisses are of an entirely different nature now as he devours your soul it feels like, and this sudden display of clear vulnerability makes you feel like you’re leaving something heavy behind you. Like a backpack dropped from your shoulders, your hands no longer move in a shy way- instead they reach out to him with comfort in mind, wanting to touch him with just as much care as he’s offered you these past few days.

He deserves it.

And he feels the change in you. Your whole body behaves just a little differently now, legs pulling his own closer without hesitation as you suddenly giggle out even, drunk off of him. “Did I fail?” You ask, and he shakes his head, hand grabbing at your flesh.

“No.” He denies, out of breath. “I’m changing the rules.” He decides, leaning back a bit to let you breathe, just to witness the sight of you moving your arms up to stretch even, back arching towards him, innocently teasing.

“Can you just do that?” You challenge, and he leans his head to the side a bit, looking down at you with the eyes of something similar to a demon in disguise.

“I can.” He affirms. “And I say fuck the rules.” He states towards you.

He knows you’re on the very edge of something you yourself are completely unaware of- and he wants to see it, craves to witness it at it’s fullest. This will test whether or not you truly can be what you told him you can’t, and what he believes slumbers deep inside of you.

When he turns onto his back, and maneuvers you to sit atop of him, you’re a bit unsure- but you trust him. You want to rely on him- not just in terms of sex.

But it all starts here.

“Take as much as you like-” He reassures you with hands on your thighs. “-this isn’t a challenge.” Jungkook clears up one last time for you. “You can’t fail this. You can only win.”

And you understand. For once, you understand exactly what he’s talking about.

It’s quite different from the toy he’s pushed inside you before- the warmth that radiates off of him feels as if it’s burning you, even though it’s not. He’s slick from your own arousal and his just as much- making it easy for the head of his length to push right in. The stretch however is different- it's a lot less harsh, more welcoming this time around, as you slowly move yourself to your first stop. Your legs are trembling, but not from fear- it's excitement. Anticipation.

You can only win.

You already did, didn’t you?

You rest yourself forward on top of him, your own lips now mindlessly kissing his neck, hands holding onto whatever you can get to. His own arms wrap comfortably around your back as you gently rock yourself on what little you have already fit- unbeknownst to you taking him just a little deeper each time. But all the way through this process, your head starts to spin almost- not as if you’re dizzy, no. This feeling is strange, as if your own bodyweight suddenly doesn’t matter any longer. You’re made of nothing but air, muscles having no tension, mind clear of any real thought.

Your head was never this empty and blissfull at the same time.

You don’t even realize the mark you leave in the crook of his neck, as you become a little eager- bringing yourself down on him quite a bit, drunk off of whatever this is. You decide that you want to explore this high to it’s fullest, leaving your body to the hold of his arms, relaxed in the comfort of the fact that he will take good care of it while you leave it behind.

And then, you feel it.

There’s nothing more to take, and you’re full of him- not just physically. All your thoughts include him, his name leaving your lips in a sigh. You can’t see it through your glossed over and hazy gaze, but he can-and he wants to burn this into his mind forever.

“Move, baby.”

It’s like he’s commanding your body for you instead of you making the decision to do so- and it’s an odd feeling, but not unwanted. Like you’re nothing but a spectator able to feel what’s happening, you can just lay back and let yourself be played like an instrument made by the most talented craftsmen the world has ever seen. His grip is strong, especially when he holds onto your waist, silently commanding your pace, and you can’t help but let your eyes roll back before you close them and hold onto him.

Like waves shaking your body back and forth, you’re drowning. But it’s not unpleasant, because he makes you able to breathe amongst the waters.

You don’t even realize that the slippery sounds of your bodies should be embarrassing to you- instead, you aim for more, grabbing onto some of your strings to puppeteer your body alongside him, testing if he lets you. And he does, welcoming you to play alongside him, though he’s clear on the exact song he wants you to perform this time.

You want more- but you trust that he knows what’s best for you.

“I.. I wan-” You slur, and he understands even those broken bits of language, smiling brightly as he rolls his own hips into you, pushing you towards him in the sudden movement. It makes you laugh, before you cry out in pleasure, his pace sending you over the edge-

But he doesn’t stop. And neither do you want him to.

You both part for just a moment, before he has your back against his chest, length guided inside you one more time for a better angle as his hands grip your chest. He bites this time- teeth leaving a mark on your shoulder and neck as he almost growls it sounds like, while his hips set a pace for himself, your thighs shaking from both the exhaustion and pleasure running through you, one of your legs hooked over his forearm to keep you open for him. You come undone a second time, and it feels as if it’s happening somewhere else, before he slips out- at first something you believe might be a mistake, but it’s clearly not.

It was intentional, calculated. Controlled.

The way his cock is now running through your folds with the help of your slick after he's let go of your leg is completely wiping your head clear- you can’t hear yourself whining for nothing in particular while he chases his high between your thighs, hand of yours reaching for him but the action is denied. He instead holds your wrists above your head, while the other keeps your hips close to him, body shuddering from the orgasm rushing through you-

And then, he slows down.

Slowly, the cotton wool in your ear leaves, and you get to hear the pleasure filled moans of the man behind you, the sound of his length moving through your soaked thighs and cunt, and your own breathing and heart beating. You feel the exhaustion, the way your fingertips are cold now, and yet, you don't want the control back yet.

Luckily for you, Jungkook holds you, easily. You can trust him after all.

The sight of your thighs covered in both your own release and his cum, some of it still trickling down the pulsating head poking through, is something that would’ve made you shy, days prior. It’s dirty, and something you never thought you’d find.. Romantic.

But you do. In an odd way.

“You wanna stay like this baby?” He asks, and you drunkenly nod, making him chuckle. “Alright. But only for a bit.” He gently whispers, while you try and collect yourself.

It’s like two sides of you are fighting. One is the you you’ve come to know all your life- trying to get back into control over your body and consciousness. The other is a stranger, trying to tell you it’s alright to let this be for a moment longer.

And maybe that stranger is right.

When he moves you both into the bath, water rushing in, you’re still hazy. You can barely articulate yourself, but he doesn’t seem to care about that whatsoever- nor does he look alarmed. He most likely knows exactly what’s going on with you, and manages it perfectly just like always. And even if not, you wouldn’t be able to tell anyways- nor would you really care.

A dangerous state of mind.

But you feel no fear.

You’re clinging to him during the entirety of the clean-up process, including the time he needs to set the bed again, disposing the soiled sheets and blankets in exchange for new ones. You’re attached to him the second he lays in the new blankets with you, smell of detergent and his bodywash surrounding you. And you’re even more eager for any touch and praise he sends your way, bathing in the afterglow of whatever you just experienced.

All while he’s just as much in heaven as you are.

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When you wake up, the first thing you notice is how much your muscles ache- especially your legs.

As if you’ve run a marathon, your legs feel like rubber the moment you try and turn around- but it’s also made difficult by the man and his heavy arm around your body. Jungkook is still sound asleep, softly snoring close to you as he recovers from what happened hours prior. You don’t even know why you’re awake, until you dig into your memories.

They feel like you’ve watched a movie. As if it wasn’t you who experienced it.

But it was, and whatever it was what you were feeling, you can’t help but feel intrigued by it. When you turn in his arms he moves as well- first only burying himself closer to you, before his breathing changes, and eyes open. They find yours in the dark of the room, barely illuminated by the now setting sun dipping the entire room in an orange glow.

“Hey.”

That’s all you can really think of, and it makes him laugh sleepily into your chest, causing you to giggle as well.

“Hey.” He returns. He looks cute like this.

“Go back to sleep.” You almost tease, but he shakes his head, yawns and moves a bit to properly look at you.

“How do you feel?” He questions, a hand reaching out to move the blanket back over your shoulder, before it disappears beneath it, seeking out the bare skin of your waist beneath your pajama shirt.

“Sore.” You admit. He laughs.

“I can imagine.” He sympathizes. “Proved you wrong though.” He teases, and you nod.

“I’m glad you did.”

There’s a heavy silence for a good moment, where neither of you really know what to say- and it’s only broken when he decides on the easier topic for now, something you’re glad about. “I’m sure you wonder what.. Happened to you.” He says, and you nod.

“It felt as if I was high.” You describe. “Drunk, but not feeling sick. Like.. One of those out-of-body experiences some people talk about.” You try and picture it to him, and he nods.

“It’s called Subspace.” Jungkook explains. “It’s when.. Well, a headspace a lot of submissives fall into during scenes. Especially when all the conditions align perfectly.” He tells you. “It’s one of the biggest compliments to people like me.”

“Why?” You question.

“Because it’s the ultimate display of trust.” Jungkook offers you. “You need to feel.. Relaxed, and perfectly safe and comfortable with me to be able to let go like that. Just a moment of uncertainty, and you’re unable to slip.”

“To be honest, it felt entirely out of my control.” You respond. “I don’t think I really made a conscious choice to.. Slip.” You repeat the term that he used.

“I know.” He nods. “Some can control it, others, especially new subs, can’t. They need those conditions and a good amount of guidance. And.. Their subspace is fragile, too.” He emphasizes. “One mistake from my side, and you’re falling.” He warns.

“So, I could.. Drop, like in the shower a few days ago?” You ask, and he nods.

“Yeah.” He agrees. “But it’s more complicated, because it’s harder to comfort a person who slips in a mindset where they’re not in full control of themselves. They can’t think rationally, and are more often than not scared of the person who made them drop.” He describes, and there’s an odd look in his eyes.

You’re careful with your next words. But you need to know.

“Has that.. Ever happened to you?”

He nods. You feel your heart constrict.

“It’s a truly terrible feeling.” He sighs. “I won’t sugarcoat it. It’s not forever- but in that moment, you’ll hate me. In it’s purest form.” Jungkook tells you. “I remember how much I despised Yoongi that day. It was as if I felt every negative emotion by just looking at him. But I couldn’t help it. Not until I finally snapped out of it.” He recounts the events.

“Do you still hate him?” You wonder, but he shakes his head, laughs even. It makes you feel better.

“No, absolutely not. I understand it now.” He replies. “But when you’re in that state, you’re.. Running on default settings. You’re not capable of complicated thoughts like trying to see things from another perspective. In hindsight, it wasn’t even his fault it happened. Simply bad timing.” He shrugs. “Which is why I’m so careful with you. I know you need to experience certain things- but I don’t want you to go through things you don’t have to.”

“Do you think.. That day, as bad as it was, made you a better guy at this?” You ask, and he nods.

“It did.” He agrees. “How did you feel?” He wonders, and you shift a bit to get more comfortable, before you remember your situation.

“Weightless.” You describe. “Like I was.. Just existing. It was fun- exciting, but also strangely relaxing.” You tell him.

“You looked very pretty to me, you know?” He states, and you laugh. “No, really. That look in your eyes was something I’ll never forget.”

“Jungkook?” You ask, and he nods, looking at you. “... I think I might be..” You swallow your pride for a second before you say it. “..I might be falling in love with you.”

There’s silence again.

You can hear the clock in his open kitchen faintly ticking away, the fridge buzzing. Outside the window, there’s a car honking, and a water bottle near the window cracks as the plastic bends from the temperature difference. A soft rushing sound is also there- rain, probably, being thrown against the glass of the window by the wind outside.

And then, he speaks.

“I’m glad.” He just says with the brightest smile you've ever awen on his face, while you look at him both surprised and a little confused. But he only leans forwards, and presses a gentle kiss against your lips.

“I already did.”

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part twenty-eight preview

France feels just as haunted by ghosts, the kind that cling to silence.

The next morning, you follow the road south near the Belgium border under a punishing sun and suffocating humidity. Sweat pools under your clothes as you leave the coastline behind, passing overgrown rose bushes and grand estates crumbling to rotted beams. Without the raft or truck, supplies rest on everyone's backs, lighter now with all the food you’ve already gone through—a stark reminder that you’ll need more soon.

You were the last to wake, stirred from a deep sleep by the sounds of bags being packed. It shouldn’t be surprising—you’d slept well after two orgasms. It’s a miracle the night’s events didn’t spill into your dreams, but now, in the daylight, keeping them at bay is harder. Thankfully, Kyle and the two kids create a buffer as you all follow Price’s lead. Their presence helps keep your eyes from drifting to him. You force your gaze on the passing signs, making a mental game out of trying to pick up on some French. It's distracting enough. So far you've gathered that sortie means exit and allez means something like go. 

The first break comes when your shoulders burn from the weight of the backpack, the straps biting into your skin. You slip it off with a groan, sinking to the ground, and nurse the canteen of water. Just enough to wet your throat and keep the dizziness at bay—rationing is a habit. There’s no telling when you’ll find a clean stream to refill, and there won’t be time to search until the next safe camp.

Price's plan echoes in your head: Setques by nightfall. That’s ten hours of walking, minimum. Your toes throb at the thought, each step promising fresh blisters, but you force yourself to focus. The faster you reach Switzerland, the safer you’ll all be. If the place they heard of is actually waiting there.

"Hey. Do you want this?"

Blue lowers beside you, offering a near-empty jar of peanut butter she was snacking on.

"Not much left but it's really good," she shrugs. 

"I'll finish it off, thanks."

The salty taste is not exactly refreshing, but you choke it down anyway, the boost of protein more of a necessity than a pleasure. Blue pulls at the grass beside you, her gaze drifting to Ari, who’s sharing food with Kyle. You try not to look, but your eyes flick to Ghost anyway. The mask is still on, as always. You want to roll your eyes at how obsessed he is with it, even after you just saw him naked. Despite its presence, you can still see the furrow between his brows as he pores over the map with Price. His chest is thick with gear, and the weight of his pack—far heavier than yours—seems like something he’ll never need to put down. Sweat rings the collar of his black tee, and his biceps flex as he gestures down the road. You’re definitely checking him out when he catches your eye mid-conversation, and without missing a beat, you turn your attention back to Blue.

She is staring at you quizzically. 

You inhale sharply, suddenly alarmed of the bruise you know is somewhere under your hair. Can she see it? You unconsciously palm your hand over your neck.

"Do you think he likes him?"

You blink. "W-what?"

She moves her lips around. "Ghost, I mean. Do you think he likes Ari?"

"Oh," you exhale, relieved. "I mean, I don't see why he wouldn't. He's a nice kid."

"He's not a kid, really," she corrects, keeping her voice for just the two of you. "He's thirteen."

"That's a kid, Blue."

[alphajocklover]

Hey man, thanks for the treats! So here’s the deal, I’m a 23-year-old med student, blonde, green eyes, skinnier than I’d like to be, but I’m literally too busy to do anything but study, let alone hit the gym like I really wanna. Even though "relaxing" ain’t in my vocab right now 'cause of the stress I’m livin' with, sometimes I treat myself to a Snickers bar. So yeah, that’d be my pick!

You had never wanted to be that kind of guy, the one whose life revolved around school and studying. You had always been a hard worker, you had to be to get into medical school in the first place, but you had always prided yourself on having a good work-life-studying balance. It had never been easy, but throughout both high school and college you had managed to keep up your grades, work part time to save up for medical school, and have a satisfying social life with a number of close friends. Hell, back in high school you were actually fairly popular. Now that you were in medical school though, it seemed like everything else in your life was falling to the wayside. You didn’t have time for hobbies, parties or friends, you didn’t even have time for your old part time job anymore, as the hours conflicted with your new schedule. The worst part was that even after giving up all that you were still struggling to keep up. You had always been a smart guy, one who thrived in school, but now it seemed that no matter what you did, no matter how much you sacrificed, it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t imagine how hard things would get in two years when you had to do clinicals and actually work at a hospital. You hated to admit it, but your dream of being a doctor had started to feel like a huge trap.

Today was your first night off in months. You had just finished a big exam, one you were certain you only barely passed, and were overjoyed to finally have a moment to relax, even if you were too exhausted to actually do anything fun. You were so tired from everything and so happy to have some time that wasn’t spent studying that you didn’t even question the snickers bar you found in your pantry, convincing yourself you had bought it at a vending machine or something and simply forgotten. You tore off the snickers wrapper carelessly, and took a big bite as you flopped down on a nearby couch, your mind racing as you did. As the chocolate and caramel danced on your tongue, you let your mind wander, imagining if things were different. If you had gone a different route in life, one that allowed you a little more time to just be yourself instead of constantly working. You imagined a life where you didn’t spend so much time worrying about your grades and where you didn’t need to work a part time job to save up for college. Instead of studying you could have thrown yourself into something else, something fun like a club or a sports team. A part of you had always been jealous of how carefree the guys on the football club seemed to be, the guys who worked out for fun or to challenge themselves, not because they were trying to be responsible. Maybe if you hadn’t been so obsessed with your future career, the one you were no longer sure you wanted, you could have been like them. You were fairly athletic in high school, but if you worked out seriously you could have gotten absolutely huge. You could imagine yourself with a body like one of those jocks, or even one better than one of those jocks. In your mind you could picture yourself with broad shoulders and beastly biceps. If you hadn’t spent all that time working at a shitty job to save up for med school you could have had that. You could have joined a sports team, probably football or wrestling. You could have made friends with your teammates. Instead of being fairly popular you could have been the big man on campus! You can almost picture yourself playing football, working out with the guys, making out with cheerleaders. You never thought you wanted a life like that, and had always thought of people who lived for pleasure and fun as being frivolous, dumb even, but… looking back, you can’t help but wonder what it would have been like, what you would have been like.

You relaxed into the couch and let your imagination start to run wild, your body tingling as you did. You imagined going from high school and into college, not having to scrimp and save like some loser, getting by on family money and your football skills. You imagined not worrying about grades, cause only nerds and losers did that, and instead just enjoying your life as an all around stud and football god. You imagined having a different major, probably something cool like business or kinesiology, something that would help you open your own gym one day so that party wouldn’t have to stop when college did. You imagined a life where instead of always working towards a future that disappointed you, you enjoyed the here and now. A life where you could just relax. 

You had gotten so lost in your thoughts that it took you a moment to realize you had finished the Snickers Bar. As you realized you had eaten the whole thing without even thinking about it, you felt a slight chuckle escape your lips, one that quickly grew into a manly guffaw. Did you really just eat the whole Snicker Bar without even thinking about it or enjoying the taste? That was the one cheat on your diet you allowed yourself a week! You could be such a dumbass sometimes. Not that it really mattered. Being smart was for fucking geeks.

You laughed a little as you tried to remember what you had been thinking about moments before. You could swear you were wondering about what your life would be like if you were different… but why would you ever want to be? You had a killer body, great bros to hang with, a sweet job as a personal trainer, and chicks and twinks throwing themselves at you almost every night. Why would you want your life to be any different? The idea of you wanting to be anyone besides the awesome, laidback stud you are… its fucking laughable!

[sylusdarling]

Spa Day

Sylus x esthetician reader

✧Time for your husband to relax a little

Content: Husband Sylus, Esthetician reader, you give him a facial, over all fluffy, you want him to relax

A/N: This idea has been in my mind forever. As an esthetician in training I want nothing more than to pamper him

Handing Sylus a golden glass of Whisky, you sat down beside him with your own.

A smile danced on Sylus’ lips as he took the glass from your hand and took a swig of the amber liquid. “Hey dove, how was work?”

Cradling your glass in your hand you spoke, “It was good! Actually, I have a question for you.”

Sylus hummed acknowledging what you said.

“We have a promotion going on right now where we’re able to bring in our partners or family members for half off. I’ll be able to give you a facial!”

Sylus clearly noticed your excitement on the topic. “For half off? You know i’d pay all the money in the world for your services, dove.”

“That’s not the point Sy!” You giggled, “I know you can more than afford the normal prices but I still want to bring you in. Are you interested?”

“You’d like me to come in?” You nodded, your eyes shining. “Then I’ll come in.” Leaning in, you hugged your husband. “Thank you my love.” His arm wrapped around your waist bringing you tighter into the hug, “Anything for you.”

Checking the IPad, you smiled when Sylus’ name turned green. He was signed in and waiting for you. You made your way to the waiting room with a gown thrown over your forearm. “Hello honey!” You exclaimed.

The crimson eyed man stood up and approached you, “Hello dove, I’m ready for my treatment.” Sylus watched you as you directed him towards the change room. He thought you looked adorable with your scrubs on and your hair up. He rarely saw you in your work look.

Pointing towards the white door, you spoke. “There’s the changing room. Take off your top and throw the gown on for me. There’s a robe and slippers in the locker if you’d like. I’ll be waiting out here for you when you’re finished.”

Standing outside the door, you waited for your husband. In just a minute he emerged from behind the door with the white gown and slippers on. “Awh you’re so cute Sy!”

“Am I now?” He stood there with his arms crossed. Chuckling you began walking, “follow me again. I’m going to take you to the facial bed.”

He followed you into the dim room with spa music playing. Taking the corner of the bed sheet you opened it up for him. After toeing off his slippers he slipped into the bed. “I’m going to put the headband on you now, ok?”

He looked up at you and hummed. Scooping his bangs back with your hand, you velcroed the two sides of the hairband together. Taking out your camera you took a photo of your cute husband. His eyes opened immediately at the camera shutter sound.

“Someone must of forgotten to put her phone on silent. Isn’t it against the rules to take photos of your clients.”

“Not when it’s my adorable husband it’s not.” Sylus playfully scoffed at that.

“Ok close your eyes we’re going to begin.” Sylus obliged, closing his eyes without another word. Taking a pump of oil, you rubbed it on your hands. “Ok we’re going to begin with an inhalation. Breathe in with me, then breathe out,” Following your instructions, your husband breathed in and out at your count. The citrus scent filled the room.

“Doesn’t this oil smell so good? It’s one of my favourites.” He nodded with his eyes closed, “It’s quite refreshing.”

You then began the service. Grabbing all the cleansers and oils you needed, you placed them down on your trolly. Your hands roamed your husbands porcelain skin. For someone who gets into dangerous situations as a living, he had absolutely no scars or marks on his face. He was gorgeous. You took this time to study your husbands face, encoding every detail of it into your mind.

Seeing your husband relaxed was an unusual sight. He was always tense and on guard keeping an eye out for anything all the time. But here, he was able to let his guard down. He seemed calm, less tense. It was the touch of his beloved that calmed him.

Arriving to the massage, you kneaded his shoulders which made him let out some groans. “Feel good, honey?” Your hands roamed his neck and shoulders applying soft pressure with the warm oil in your hands.

“So goo-ah good, dove.” That made you smile. You were happy that you were able to help your husband relax even if it was only for an hour.

The end of the facial approached. Removing his hair band, you sat him up and positioned his slippers by his feet. Handing him a hand mirror, he was able to get a good look as his fresh skin. “You’re glowing Sy. Don’t you feel so refreshed.”

He nodded, “I do thanks to a wonderful someone.” Standing up, he grabbed both of your hands and placed them in his. Tilting his head down he gave you a soft peck on your lips. “Thank you, dove. I appreciate everything you do for me.”

“You know i’d do this anytime you want me to.” You gave him one more peck before escorting him back to the changing room. You were able to clean up your station before he returned.

“Do you have any more clients today?” Your husband asked.

You shook your head, “Nope, only you!”

He hummed, “Perfect let’s go home, and i’ll show you my appreciation with my…own massage.” He drawled.

Your face heated up at his comment. “Sy!”

He chuckled at your reactions. “You did a great job today, let’s go home.”

[mikkomacko]

I loved the little Nico reader and Johnny blurb! You should def do something small like that with them and holtzy next🥺 I’m in my missing Alex hours

Nico’s looking over your shoulder, a hand on your hip as he reads over the grocery list with you. You’ve both gotten pretty good at keeping the kitchen stocked and the grocery list stacked since adding Alex to the household. But between him and Nico, food seems to fly out of the fridge and cupboards faster than you can keep track of.

Which is why the list and the shopping has become a group affair.

“That’s everything,” you say, waiting a second while Nico finishes double checking for you. He squeezes your hip, humming his agreement and you tuck your phone away.

The checkout line slowly inches forward, the woman with the half filled basket in front of you sighing heavily. You meet her eyes, smiling politely and puffing out your own sigh of agreement. Maybe you should start making Nico and Alex take a day during the week to come shopping with you. The weekend crowd just isn’t cutting it anymore.

Alex is standing by the end of your overflowing cart, brown eyes downtrodden and lips pursed in that way they get when he’s scared. Not terrified scared, but anxious scared. You note the way he’s holding the edge of the cart, thoughtfully fingering the corner of the oatmilk coffee creamer stacked on top.

Oatmilk creamer, the kind Nico and you like. Not the kind Alex likes.

“Aw we forgot your vanilla one, Alex!” You say, and his gaze snaps up to yours. Relief floods his eyes, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Can I go run and get it?”

Nico nods his head back towards the dairy. “Go for it, the line’s not moving anyway.” Alex’s smiles wider, murmuring “excuse me’s” in a quiet and accented voice until he’s ducked out of the checkout lane and disappeared around the edge of it.

In the total wrong direction.

“Nico,” you whine, turning to him with pleading eyes. He pops his gum, frowning curiously at you. “Go make sure he doesn’t get lost please?”

“He’s a big kid, he’ll be fine.”

“He went the wrong way.”

Nico stands up taller, looks over the shelves and snorts quietly. “Let him get his energy out running up and down the aisles.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Nico Hischier if you don’t go right now and help him I swear to god-“

“Fine, ok,” he grunts, holding his hands up “but if you keep babying him, we’ll never get him out of our house.”

That’s not something you particularly care about though so you smile, patting him on the chest in thanks and sending him off with a short kiss. Nico makes his way down the checkout line, not bothering to say anything because everyone’s already scooting out of his way. You’ve always found it funny, how people seem to shy away from him.

Resting your elbows on the basket, you lean your weight into it and try to not be so impatient as the long lines ticks forward. The woman in front of you smiles again, briefly glancing to the area Alex was standing earlier.

“How old is he?” She questions.

“He just turned 18.”

She looks shocked, eyes slightly widening and lips parting as she looks you up and down. “Wow, you look way too young to have a son that age! I thought he was way younger.”

Oh, you gawk. No one has ever actually thought Alex was your kid. Sure you look older for your age and Nico has the personality of an old man but there’s not even close to being a normal amount of years between you and Alex for you to be his actual mother.

“He’s not-“you laugh, a bit caught off guard still “I’m not his mom. He’s just family.”

The lady’s cheeks tinge pink and you’d imagine yours are too judging by the heat burning at your face. She laughs too, holding her hand up in apology. “Oh he looks so much like your husband! I’m sorry I thought-anyway I was like I can’t believe how great this mom looks for her age.”

That makes you laugh, the awkwardness from before settling. Alex does look like Nico a bit, same color eyes, their dark and straight hair, even his nose a bit. And you’ve noticed him picking up Nico’s mannerism too, small things like the way he stands with his arms crossed or raises an eyebrow when he’s talking and is excited.

“Oof yeah I’m way too young to have a kid that old.” You agree, choosing to just breeze over her calling Nico your husband. Technically he’s not, but he’s as good as.

“Trust me there’s lots of time for that,” she assures, beginning to load her groceries onto the belt. “Seems like you’d be good at it too, if you decide to.”

Luckily, Nico and Alex slip their way back up to you just in time to save you because an uncomfortable and uncertain lump has lodged its way into your throat. Too early for the kid talk, like way too early.

Alex dumps his creamer into the basket, then a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream and finally a bag of some candy you’ve never seen before.

“Nico said I could.” He tells you with a pleased grin. “It’s Swedish.”

You had no idea there was even Swedish candy here but you laugh, shrugging off his explanation. “You can get whatever you want Alex, it’s ok.”

“As long as some of it is real food,” Nico cuts in, and you can feel the woman from before watching you three. “Not just chipotle and frozen pizza like the Hughes boys.”

Alex nods, a thoughtful look in his eyes and you can practically see him taking mental notes of every little piece of advice Nico’s given him. He blinks as if just realizing something.

“I don’t like frozen foods.”

Nico grins, smacks Alex on the shoulder like a proud father. “No harm then.” He grins, smacking his gum and then beginning to load the groceries onto the belt.

“I got it.” Alex jumps in, shooing Nico back to your side so he can empty the basket for you. Over his shoulder you meet the woman’s gaze again, the two of you sharing a knowing and amused smile before she’s walking away, a basket of bagged food going with her.

Nico rests his hand on your lower back, and you move in closer. “She thought he was our son,” you whisper into his ear, nodding towards the lady when Nico looks confused.

“Maybe your son,” Nico chuckles quietly, “we have more of a dog-owner relationship, ya know?” Even so, he’s smiling all shy and cute as he lies through his teeth.

You press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Mhm, whatever you say boss.”

[moonjellysfeast]

My Own Galatea- Crybaby x Top Male Reader

cw; (C/n) is Code name, manipulation, abuse, unethical science, dehumanization, Crybaby is @yanderefarm's character

You were probably too young to be involved in such an experiment, not even proper college age nor finished with your classes. But, you were very advanced in your studies, you were still top of your classes despite moving up several grades when you were younger, and they were getting desperate. You remember sitting in the meeting, this company had really only planned to discuss simple matters as a way of showing you how you were expected to interact once you finished school and they actually hired you. They got caught up in more urgent matters and forgot you bore witness to their panic and desperation until you raised a hand to silence the room and flatly announced.

"I have the darling gene... I could probably further his infection. He'd listen to me, I promise" They weren't happy about it, but they were truly desperate, so you were hired.

You first met him in the facility's basement, he was in a large glass room, a small hole cut into the bullet-proof glass to keep you safe when talking with him. You had several psychology classes and so you felt confident in your scheme to make him obedient.

"Hello" You spoke softly and he turned to you, clearly upset, "It's nice to meet you. Do you have a name?"

He glared at you for a bit before walking towards the hole in the glass and quietly grumbling, "I do... A real one..."

You smiled at him, he was only a year or two younger than you, but you would have to treat him more like a child until he knew you were safe. You approached him, ensuring you looked as confident as you felt, you weren't scared of him and he had no need to fear you yet.

"Give me your name, then. We can't be friends unless you tell me at least that much" Your words were laced with honey, he eyed your sweet smile with suspicion and you watched his eyes shift. He was coming around to the idea.

"Elias... I think... no, I am right... I am named Elias..." Even just at the confusion of his name, his eyes were round and damp. You held back the tug of a grin to give him a gentle smile instead.

"You can call me (Y/n). Elias is a beautiful name. It suits you" He looked at you with awe now, like it was the first compliment he'd ever heard, "You know, the people here call me (C/n), isn't that a funny name? Do they call you something like that?"

"Yes. Crybaby... I don't like it" He'd looked so adorable, crouched on the other side of the glass, confessing his thoughts like deep secrets, and watching you with those wet eyes.

You had been completely correct in your assumption that you could further his infection, when you next saw him, his irises were clear heart shapes and he hopped up to greet you at the glass.

"Good morning, Elias~ You seem energetic" You mused as he fidgeted a bit and nodded. "I'd like to play a game today, if you're up for it"

"A game?" He was clearly wary, surely experiments had been done to him in the form of 'games' previously, but he had to trust you.

"It's like simon says. Do you know that game?" he shook his head slowly, "Well, I'm going to tell you to do things, but I only want you to listen when I call you Crybaby, Ok?"

"Why?" He whined

"Because, It'll be fun. Friends play games all the time and we're friends now! We'll start easy; Crybaby, sit down," He sat with little hesitancy, "Very good. Stand up, Crybaby," He stood, "Elias, please come closer"

He walked toward you and you made quite a show of disappointment, causing him to scramble back into place and apologize, already welling up with tears.

"No, no, it's ok. You forgot the rules. Like I said, we're starting easy so it's not a big issue. Crybaby, come here" He hesitated before scrambling to the glass window, tears streaming down his face already.

The games continued each day, once he was good at listening as crybaby, you started referring to Crybaby and Elias as different people, even giving them rules.

"Crybaby doesn't know my name, you only know me as (C/n), right? You pet his head, watching him nod along to your words. "Who am I?"

"(Y)- no... (C/n)..."

"Good boy, you're really learning. I'm sure Elias would be proud of you as well, Crybaby"

You also had begun entering his cell, he adored when you did and would cling to you until you demanded he stop. With becoming so close to him, you also had to begin enforcing all of your rules more strictly.

"(Y/n) I don't kno-" He crumpled to the floor the moment you hand landed on his cheek.

"That's not what you call me, is it, Crybaby?" You sneered as he cradled his cheek and began to tear up again.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorry- mhhn, Please don't be mad! (C/n), sir, please!" You placed a hand over his own, silencing him.

"I know you didn't mean it, but we can't have you being bad, can we? No, Crybaby, you have to be a good boy and listen to me. Now, you remember where it is, mark the artery I told you to."

He shakily got up and made an x on the mannequin's neck, precisely where you told him to.

"Good boy" you smiled a bit, " We'll have to work on your crying. as much as your name is apt, no one will like you crying so much when you start to actually work..."

There will be more of this fic but I am stuck.

[swanlakex]

As a irl hairstylist, I can’t get the idea of doing Hayden Christensen’s hair/makeup on set. So here you go. 😁😁😁

Being Hayden Christensen’s film stylist was a job you never thought you’d land.

The industry is so unforgiving to less-experienced, younger hairstylists. Most companies hire a crew of 3-4 ladies, and never look for more until the eldest retires. (Like the Supreme Court) It’s a long cycle, and you were ready to spend years climbing the ladder to do what you loved.

Then your first gig was practically your dream job.

Working as a stylist on George Lucas’ set of Revenge of The Sith, you had your hands full. There were dozens of wigs, hours of SFX makeup, and plenty of styles to do. But you were ecstatic. And better yet, the actors adored you. You were a breath of fresh air from the typical grouchy, 50 year old stylists that complained about their swollen feet and the “new generation”. Not you- you were funny, patient, and talkative. Making friends was definitely the best part of your job.

Natalie was so sweet, and she always talked to you about the latest book she had been nose-deep in. They were interesting, even despite being non-fiction. Plus, she had no problem being your Guinea pig for new styles and ideas you conjured up. She would sit in your chair forever, if she had the time of course. She’s a busy girl!

Ewan opened up to you when you started playing your own music in the wardrobe. Of course, you played oldies for him specifically, but he was surprised that “kids still have taste these days”. Ewan was hilarious too, and a great listener. He would ask about your day, and actually care about the answer. He’d ask questions and tease you for hitting a curb on your way to the set that day. When you finally got him out of the chair, he’d fist bump you before whipping around and marching out the room.

Hayden, however, was a bit of a different story. He wasn’t very talkative, in fact, he seemed a little shy; a strict contrast to his character. Of course, he was very polite, but he kept to himself really. You didn’t mind this, it was always comfortable silence. Plus, his peace really came in handy on those chaotic days. You didn’t really think twice about it until you called Hayden in for wardrobe, and Ewan turned to him, smiled, and poked him. “Oh, come on..” You heard Hayden say back to Ewan with a grin on his face as he headed towards you. What was that about? Weird.

You started with makeup first. It was the scene where Anakin had turned to the dark side, and his face was full-on Sith Lord. It was going to take a bit longer than it usually would. He sits in the chair, and you clip his hair back. “You excited to turn me evil today?” He says with a smile.

You turn around, mixing the foundation onto your hand. “It’s the very reason I woke up today.”

He lets out an airy chuckle, repositioning in his seat to a more relaxed demeanor.

As you pat the base layer on his face, you ask “Have you seen the contacts you’re wearing yet?”

“No I have not..” He says, opening his eyes.

You turn to the table and pick them up, opening the lid and showing him.

“Oh, that’s awesome. I’m gonna look like a lizard.”

You chuckle. “I hope you have experience with contacts, because I do not. So if you need help, we’re a little screwed.”

He waves your concern away. “Nah, it’s all good. I can put ‘em in.”

You continue his base, and as you finish, he speaks again. “Y’know, I never asked.. How long have you been doing this?”

Your eyebrows furrow at the unexpected question. But hey, you’re not complaining. Having a gorgeous man in your chair asking you questions is never a problem to you. “Well, I’ve been doing hair since.. I was a junior in high school.”

His face makes a puzzled look.

“Grade 11.” You explain, knowing he’s Canadian, so he’s probably not familiar with American grades.

“Ahh..” he says. “That’s a long time.”

“Not as long as everybody else around here..”

“But you’re still better than ‘em.” He whispers, not wanting to offend the other artists.

Your eyes widen in shock. You smile. “Why thank you, Mr. Christensen..” you say in a funny, teasing voice.

“Please,” he scoffs. “I’m not forty.”

“I’m aware.” You joke as you bend closer to him with eyeliner in your hand. “Alright, for this you have to stay very still. No sudden movements, ‘Kay?”

He just nods and stares straight ahead. “I won’t even breathe.”

You giggle and shake your head. “Might need you to breathe, Hayden.”

He whispers a small “Okay.” And stays still as you draw small cracks around his eyes. A quarter of the way through, you notice he’s been staring at you this whole time. You keep going, but he never looks away.

“Y’know..” you say softly with a smile on your face “most people close their eyes for this part..”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He closes his eyes.

A minute later, he opens one again.

You stand up from the two of you laughing, grabbing a Q-tip to clean up the edges. “You’re funny today.” You state.

“Am I not funny every day?” He interrogates.

You shrug. “Sorry. Extra funnier today.”

He gives a “Hmph.” And nods.

You finish his makeup, smiling like an idiot the whole time. Now you just have to install the extensions, have him put in the contacts, then he’s done.

“Wig time.” You sing, plucking the hair extensions from the mannequin labeled SKYWALKER.

“Do you want me to close my eyes for this one too?”

You chuckle, and shake your head no.

“Good, cause I like lookin’ at you.”

WHAT THE FUUUUUCKKKKK?? Your stomach was suddenly swarmed with butterflies. No way he’s hitting on you. No way. Either way, you could not fumble this. Act cool.

Hayden’s face was flushed, he was obviously freaking out that he said that too.

“Yeah? Well I’m quite flattered,” you respond. “..Mr. Christensen.” You tease, breaking the awkward air. He chuckles and shakes his head. You clip in his extensions, teasing and roughing them up. “In fact, there’s a get-together Natalie and I are going to later tonight. Plenty of music and people. I’d love if you came.” He looks up to you.

“Just you and Natalie? No Ewan?” You ask.

“Nah, he’s too old.” He jokes. Suddenly, you hear a shout from outside the door.

“I heard that, you little twat!” Ewan cries from the muffled door. Hayden whips around. “What- How long have you been listening??”

You hear a faint trail of giggles travel down the hall. You laugh so hard you have to put your curling iron down. Hayden sighs. Once you recover, you answer.

“I’d love to go. Can you send me the address?”

“Really? Yeah, of course.” You hand him your phone and he types in his number as you finish his hair up. He hands it back to you.

“Thanks. Alright, you can put your contacts in now. The bathroom is right there if you need a sink.” You instruct him as you hand over the contacts. He smiles, nods, and walks into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he comes out.

“Woah!” You call out. “You look..terrifying..”

He smiles darkly, and it’s kinda hot.

“Ah, don’t tell me I’ve changed your mind then.”

You shake your head. “Not in the slightest.”

He grins, hands you back the case, and thanks you as he struts out the door. “Hope to see you there!” He calls out.

“See ya!” As soon as he leaves you watch him walk onto set from a crack in the door. He strides over to Ewan and bends over to whisper something. Ewan’s face lights up and he throws a hand up for a high-five.

20 minutes later, you get a buzz from your phone.

846 York Ave.

Can’t wait. ;)

-Your favorite Sith Lord

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° what's meant to be will always find a way

( nanase nijiro x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — for my new childhood friends to lovers series :)

♡ word count — 1.9k

♡ content — nanase nijiro x fem! reader, fem! reader, coach's daughter! reader, reader's dad has been nanase's soccer coach basically his whole life, secret relationship, goes from when they're 8 to the U-20 game, let's pretend nanase played a bit in the U-20 game

♡ synopsis — All Nanase Nijirou ever wanted was to prove himself. Not just as a player but as the person who would always be worthy of your love.

Nanase Nijiro met you when he was just eight years old, all knobby knees and a crooked grin that didn’t quite match his quiet personality. Your dad was his little league soccer coach, and from the moment Nanase joined the team, your father’s voice seemed to boom louder whenever Nanase was around.

“This kid’s got potential,” your dad had said once, hands on his hips as he watched Nanase run drills. You were sitting nearby on the sidelines, clipboard balanced on your lap, dutifully helping keep score or jotting down notes like the perfect assistant.

Nanase thought you were intimidating, standing there like a miniature version of your father—sharp-eyed, quiet, and serious. He tried his best to avoid you at first, focusing on impressing the coach instead.

But fate had other plans.

During one particularly intense practice, Nanase tripped over the ball, tumbling hard onto the ground. The sting of scraped knees bit into his skin, and dirt clung to the fresh wounds. He bit back tears, willing himself to get back up before anyone noticed.

“Shake it off, Nanase!” your dad barked from across the field.

Before he could, though, you were already walking toward him, first-aid kit in hand.

“Sit down,” you ordered gently, kneeling beside him.

Nanase froze, unsure of what to say as you cleaned the dirt from his knees with an alcohol wipe. He flinched at the sting but tried to hide it, not wanting to seem weak in front of you.

“It’s not that bad,” he muttered.

You glanced up at him, unimpressed. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t play if you’re bleeding all over the field.”

Your hands worked quickly, applying bright, colorful bandages to his scraped knees. When you finished, you gave him a small smile.

“There. Now you’re good as new.”

Something shifted in that moment. Nanase stared at you, wide-eyed, as if seeing you for the first time. You weren’t as scary as he thought—just kind.

From then on, Nanase couldn’t help but gravitate toward you. During water breaks, he’d wander over to the sidelines, chatting with you about school, soccer, or whatever came to mind. He wasn’t naturally talkative, but around you, the words came easily.

You teased him about his growing habit. “You know, you’re supposed to practice during practice, right?”

“I’m taking a break,” he’d say, grinning sheepishly.

Somewhere between bandaged knees and quiet conversations, a friendship bloomed.

By the time you both reached junior high, you and Nanase were inseparable. He still played under your dad’s coaching, but now the practices were more intense, the stakes higher. Your dad pushed Nanase harder than ever, singling him out during drills and yelling at him to work harder.

“He’s only like this because he believes in you,” you’d remind Nanase after practice when he dragged himself to the bleachers, exhausted.

“I know,” he’d reply, his smile a little strained. “Doesn’t make it easier, though.”

You’d sit together for a while, watching the sunset paint the sky orange and pink. Sometimes, he’d lean over to peek at your notebook, curious about what you were sketching or writing.

“What’s this?” he’d ask, pointing at one of your doodles.

“Nothing important,” you’d say, closing the notebook quickly, but he’d grin, knowing you didn’t actually mind his nosiness.

By the time you both hit your final year of junior high, the lines of friendship had blurred into something more. It wasn’t sudden—more like a slow, inevitable shift. Lingering touches, the way his eyes lingered on you longer than before, the flutter in your chest when he smiled at you.

One evening after practice, while the rest of the team was packing up, Nanase pulled you aside behind the equipment shed.

“I, uh…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “What is it?”

“I like you,” he blurted out, his face red as he looked at the ground. “Like, really like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could overthink it, you leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I like you too,” you admitted softly, your face just as red as his.

That was how it started—your quiet, secret relationship.

Nanase respected your dad, a lot actually, but what your dad didn’t know was that Nanase had kissed you behind the equipment shed before almost every practice.

High school came with its own challenges. Your dad, still Nanase’s coach, watched him like a hawk.

“If you’re friends with my daughter, that’s fine,” your dad told him one day after practice, his tone firm. “But no dating. Got it?”

Nanase nodded obediently, but behind closed doors, nothing changed. If anything, your relationship only deepened.

One night during a particularly bad storm, you heard a faint tapping at your window. Nervously, you peeked out and saw Nanase standing there, drenched from head to toe.

“What are you doing?!” you whispered harshly as you opened the window, helping him climb inside.

“I figured you’d be scared,” he said, dripping water onto your floor.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you tossed him a towel. “You’re insane, you know that?”

He changed into the spare clothes you kept hidden for him, and the two of you curled up under your blankets. When the thunder roared, you gripped his arm tightly, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

By morning, the storm had passed, but the real trouble came when your dad knocked on your door.

“Sweetie?” he called, opening the door before you could answer.

You stood by your closet, your face burning red. “H-Hi, Dad!”

He frowned. “You’re all sweaty. You sick?”

“Nope! Just… couldn’t sleep because of the storm,” you stammered.

He nodded, eyeing you for a moment before leaving. The second the door shut, you opened your closet, and Nanase tumbled out, laughing quietly.

“You gotta go,” you whispered, trying not to laugh yourself.

Nanase grinned, leaning down to kiss you. “I love you. See you at school.”

When the Blue Lock letter arrived, you were sitting on Nanase’s bed, textbooks spread out as you studied together.

He opened the envelope, his eyes widening as he read the words.

“What is it?” you asked, sitting up straighter.

He handed you the letter, and your jaw dropped. “Nanase, this is amazing!”

But he didn’t look as thrilled as you expected.

“What about you?” he asked quietly. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Your excitement faltered as the reality hit you. If he went, things would change.

“Oh,” you murmured.

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” he said quickly, his voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Don’t be stupid. This is your dream.”

“It’s not worth it if I lose you,” he whispered, his fingers brushing yours.

“You won’t,” you promised, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Blue Lock was unlike anything Nanase had ever experienced. The training was brutal, the pressure relentless, and the competition cutthroat. Yet, through all of it, he never took off the bracelet you made for him before he left—a simple cord with your favorite colors braided together.

At first, no one noticed it. But one day in the locker room, one of his teammates, a tall striker with a loud mouth and a knack for teasing, spotted it while Nanase was getting changed.

“Yo, Nanase,” the striker said, pointing at his wrist. “What’s with the bracelet? Got a girlfriend or something?”

Nanase froze for a moment, caught off guard. “Uh…”

The striker grinned, sensing an opportunity. “Oh, you do have a girlfriend. What, did she make that for you? That’s cute.”

Nanase turned red, instinctively pulling his wrist close to his chest. “It’s none of your business,” he mumbled.

But the striker wasn’t letting up. “Come on, man. Don’t be shy. What’s the deal? Is it like a good luck charm or something?”

Nanase tried to ignore him, but the teasing continued. Finally, something snapped.

“Yeah, she made it for me,” Nanase said, his voice louder than usual. “She spent hours on it, making sure it was perfect, even though I told her she didn’t have to. She’s the most supportive person I’ve ever known. She’s been there for me since we were kids—every practice, every game, cheering me on, even when I didn’t believe in myself. This bracelet reminds me of her and everything I’m fighting for here. So yeah, it’s important to me. You got a problem with that?”

The locker room went silent.

The striker blinked, stunned by the outburst, before muttering, “Damn, man. I wish I hadn’t asked.”

Nanase sighed, his face burning, but he didn’t regret a single word. Later that night, as he lay in his bunk, he twisted the bracelet around his wrist, a small smile tugging at his lips. Thinking of you gave him strength.

The U-20 match was the biggest stage Nanase had ever stepped onto. The stadium lights burned bright, illuminating the field where some of the best players in the country were battling it out. Nanase’s heart raced as he stood on the sidelines, watching the chaos unfold.

He didn’t get much playing time, and deep down, he felt a pang of disappointment. He wanted to prove himself—not just to the world but to you, the one who had always believed in him.

When the coach finally called his name, his pulse quickened. He stepped onto the field, taking his position.

The match was intense, every second a blur of movement, strategy, and noise. Nanase didn’t score a goal, but he played his heart out, assisting a crucial pass that led to one. The crowd roared, and though it wasn’t his name they were chanting, he felt a surge of pride.

When the final whistle blew, signaling Blue Lock’s victory, he stood on the field, chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly faded.

And then he saw you.

You were running onto the field, weaving through the crowd of players until you reached him. Without a second thought, you threw your arms around him, holding him tightly.

“You were amazing,” you said, your voice filled with pride.

Nanase hesitated. “I didn’t do much,” he said quietly, his eyes downcast. “I wasn’t even on the field for most of it.”

You pulled back, your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t say that. You made a difference. You played your heart out. That’s what matters.”

He smiled, a little sheepishly, but his chest felt lighter.

“Nanase.”

The sound of your dad’s voice made both of you freeze. You turned, seeing him standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

“Sir,” Nanase said quickly, stepping back from you. “I’m glad you came.”

Your dad didn’t say anything at first, just stared at the two of you. Finally, he spoke. “I’m not stupid, boy.”

Nanase swallowed hard.

“But,” your dad continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “you’ve made me proud today. Just don’t forget what I said—don’t hurt her.”

Nanase nodded quickly, relief flooding his face. “I won’t. I promise.”

Your dad gave a short nod before walking away, leaving the two of you standing there.

Nanase turned to you, his hand finding yours. “Did that just happen?”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “I think he’s finally on your side.”

Nanase smiled, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. He might not have been the star of the match, but to you—and now, apparently, to your dad—he was more than enough.

As you walked off the field together, the stadium lights casting long shadows, Nanase tightened his grip on your hand, silently vowing to keep proving himself—not just as a player but as the person who would always be worthy of your love.

idc if he's underrated, i will write for him til the cows come home

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[yezhi1k]

Flowers & Cherries chp.2 (Jinx x Reader)

Notes: alrighty, we have finished chapter two! Apologies in advance for any typos, I am very very very bad at proofreading. This is a SFW chapter! As per the last chapter, this one is also on AO3 (MisanthropicMoose).

Summary: Your partnership with Silco and your friendship with Jinx have been going great for months. That is, until Silco makes an absolutely outlandish proposition, and Jinx seem to know something you don't.

CW: description of needles/injections

That night, the Last Drop was a chaos of blaring music, strobing neon lights and sweaty bodies writhing against one another in motions loosely resembling dance. Sitting at the bar, you occasionally glanced out into the crowd, fruitlessly trying to focus on someone or something in particular, only for your vision to once again be overtaken by a cacophony of vibrant stimuli. It definitely didn’t help that every time you got to the bottom of your glass, a new one, filled to the brim, seemed to appear in front of you as if by magic. You weren’t in the habit of binge drinking under normal circumstances, but you haven’t had a night off in so long that you were practically itching for a hangover. Your head was spinning, and with every gulp the worries of the previous months melted away. You felt good. Alive.

As you brought the rim of your glass to your lips again your gaze shifted from the crowd back to Jinx. She sat on a bar stool next to yours, legs swinging rhythmically, sipping on something from a tall glass through a straw. You wondered if whatever she was consuming was even alcoholic. From the way she stayed perfectly sober after several portions of the mystery liquid, you assumed it wasn’t. Or maybe this girl could hold her liquor like no one you’ve ever seen.

“So, he comes up to me and goes, ‘Freeze! You’re under arrest!’. And I went, ‘Actually, you are under arrest!’. And he got all confused, had this stupid look on his face,” Jinx grimaced, presumably imitating the man in question, then took a big sip of her drink. You watched as she reached for the straw with her mouth, the way her lips wrapped around it, throat bobbing as she drank. You felt your mouth go dry, and suddenly a warmth was rising to your cheeks. It was just the alcohol doing its thing, you thought to yourself. Just the alcohol.

You cleared your throat.

“And what happened then?” you asked. Jinx’s eyes met yours, and for a second you read genuine confusion in them before she seemed to recollect the topic of the conversation again.

“Ah, well while he stood there looking all dumb, I chucked a bomb at him. And he exploded. And died. That’s sort of how all my stories end if I am being honest,” she stated matter-of-factly, but you could have sworn you saw her face drop a little.

Your brows furrowed. You knew a little about Jinx’s history, about Vander and the kids. You felt sad for them, for her. Someone told you the story once, and, at the time, it was sobering. It was one of those stories that taught you that power in the Undercity always changed hands violently, and that no one, especially not the innocents, was safe from the violence. Such a tragic waste too. From what you heard, Vander and Silco were very close once.

You shook your head a little, trying to rid it of somber thoughts. That was the past, the past that had nothing to do with you, the past you couldn’t change no matter how much you tried. There was no point in dwelling on it, not on one of your scarce nights off, not when you had a new friend sitting across from you.

“You okay?” Jinx seemed to notice your discomfort. She placed a hand on your shoulder and looked inquisitively into your face. You gave her the best smile you could manage, but you knew perfectly well that in your inebriated state it came out weird and crooked.

“Yeah. Just need to lay off the booze for a bit, I think,” you groaned, pushing the half-empty glass away lightly. Jinx’s hand was still on your shoulder, and you noticed her rubbing small circles with her thumb. It felt good. Comforting.

“Well,” Jinx’s hand travelled down your arm and grasped your slightly larger hand in hers, “I want to dance!”.

With that, she hopped off her bar stool, dragging you down with her. You were too drunk to object as she dragged you onto the dance floor. You just followed the sight of two blue braids swinging behind her, letting her drag you by the hand wherever she pleased. When you finally made it, you tried your best to steady yourself on your feet, dodging the sporadically moving people surrounding you. The next song started playing over the speaker. A man was rapping in a language you didn’t understand.

Suddenly, Jinx’s face came back into view. She was standing in front of you, having let go of your arm now. Everything else faded away, sounds became muffled. You could only make out the beat of the base, and as Jinx started moving, no, flowing around you, you mimicked her movements the best you could. Your body nearly missed collision with hers as you slithered around one another, fingertips sliding over one another ever so slightly. Blue ribbons of hair flowed behind her, circling her body, and you found yourself mesmerized by them. As she came closer, you could feel her heat, somehow different from the heat of every other body around you. In that moment, no one else existed. Only her, flashing lights, and the base of the song. It was entrancing, intoxicating, almost meditative.

The magic ended as you tripped over somebody’s foot and started on your trajectory face-first to the floor. Thankfully, your fall was interrupted as Jinx moved in closer to you, propping you up.

“You know, for someone so allegedly badass, you are quite clumsy!”

The song playing now was much louder, and Jinx was shouting over the music now, a wide grin plastered on her face as she looked at you mockingly. You regained your balance and let go of her.

“I just… I just can’t really dance,” you shouted back, trying not to let your embarrassment show.

Thank God for the mind-altering properties of alcohol. If it wasn’t for them, you would’ve been burning alive with shame right now. Instead, you started shuffling and flailing around wildly, trying to match the erratic rhythm of the music. Jinx watched you with a cocked head, openly giggling at your antics. When she had enough, she took your hand in hers again and dragged you back to your seats at the bar.

“I think that’s enough of that,” she laughed, “If people find out Smeech has such an epic dancer as his right hand, he might get too full of himself”.

The reminder of Smeech suddenly jolted you out of your drunken haze. Your eyes somehow regained the ability to focus, and you scanned your surroundings thoroughly, trying to see if anyone was shooting you weird glances. The Last Drop was a relatively safe place for people like you, people rarely did their dirty work in, or anywhere around, the place. But you still always had to be on the lookout. For goons from rivalling gangs, for spies, for assassins that could be tracking you down.

Your change of demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by Jinx.

“No, no, no,” she pouted, shaking you lightly by the shoulders, “don’t go all professional mode on me. I like you drunk and cute”.

You took one final look around the place. Satisfied with the fact that no one seemed to pay the two of you any mind, you shot Jinx an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

The blue-haired woman climbed back up on the bar stool, put and elbow on the table and leant her head on her hand.

“What do you have to worry about, anyway? You are essentially Smeech’s Sevika and I am, well, Silco’s Jinx. No one in their right minds would fuck with us.”

“If only everyone around was in their right mind.”

Over the next several months, you have settled into a bit of a rhythm. Your meetings with Silco were relocated from the empty chem baron meeting room to his own office. The transition was a little bit unsettling for you; after all, having to enter what was essentially the most dangerous room in the entire Undercity couldn’t be comfortable. The first time you showed up, a tall, muscular woman in a conspicuous cloak blocked your path and glared down at you in a way that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You knew of Sevika, of course. You knew what kind of lethal appendage was hidden under that burgundy cloak. Being in the presence of such raw physical power made you feel incredibly small, despite the fact that you knew your reputation was comparable to hers, albeit for different reasons. You introduced yourself to her and made the dangerous move of initiating a handshake. Thankfully, she used her human hand.

You and Silco have developed a close partnership, tweaking your deals whenever the need came up. Smeech’s protection services of Silco’s shimmer transportation routes became a permanent arrangement, proving to be more than profitable for the both of you. Having to do business with Silco kept you sharp; your collaboration did not mean that he was willing to be charitable, and you had to keep your foot firmly planted to ensure that your goons were not getting cheated out of their share. You harbored no illusions; Silco was a slippery, cunning man and most definitely not your friend.

The same could not be said about Jinx. Though you understood the conflict of interest that arose from your friendship, whenever she would catch up to you in the alleyway leading out of Silco’s quarters and beg you to hang out, you couldn’t say no. You weren’t sure whether this was entirely due to your affection for her as a person, or whether it was some strange unfulfilled older sibling complex left behind after the death of your family. Either way, you liked spending time with her. And you could say that you simply got cocky enough to allow yourself such pleasantries without worrying about the opinion of the criminal world. Being friendly with a member of a rivalling gang was the least scandalous affair in your circles.

The two of you would often meet at the Last Drop, though you would sometimes pop into Jinx’s workshop and watch her work on various projects. She never built weapons in front of you, you assumed under instruction from Silco. That made sense. And you didn’t feel like making things awkward by saying the quiet part out loud.

All went smoothly, until it didn’t.

One afternoon, as you were on your usual stroll to Smeech’s office, you heard a short, sharp whistle emanate from a nearby alleyway. You recognized the signal – Silco needed to speak to you. You approached the alleyway cautiously, and as you peered in you were able to make out Sevika’s looming figure. The two of you stared at each other for a moment.

“Is something the matter?” you asked. A sheer layer of cold sweat suddenly coated your palms. You had set times and dates for meeting Silco, the routine had been uninterrupted for months at that point. If he went out of his way to send Sevika for you, something out of the ordinary must have occurred. And in your experience, out of the ordinary was, more often than not, trouble.

Sevika made a beckoning gesture and retracted further into the alleyway, being quickly engulfed by the darkness. You followed. It was cool and humid in there, and the skin on your forearms erupted in goosebumps. Your eyes haven’t yet adjusted, and you stretched out your arm, trying to navigate, until you felt your fingers brush a mound of something, covered in fabric. You snatched your hand back; that was Sevika.

“Silco has requested you come see him tonight,” Sevika started in a hushed tone, “Come alone, don’t tell anyone where you are going. Not the goons, not Smeech, no one, understand?”

You squinted in the direction of her voice, trying to make out her figure.

“Why so urgently?” you asked, “Our next meeting was scheduled for Thursday.”

An annoyed huff reached you from the dark.

“Because he said so.”

You had nothing to retort. If Silco wanted to see someone, they had better come running. That was just the law of nature around here. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Sevika spoke again. Her tone seemed to have marginally softened, maybe she took pity on you. She could probably tell how nervous you were getting.

“Seriously, I don’t know. Silco’s planning something, but he’s not telling any of us yet. Except for Jinx, probably,” you noticed an edge of disdain in the latter part of her sentence. It was, famously, Sevika’s job to clean up Jinx’s messes, so the fact that she was always more in the know about Silco’s plans than even his right hand must have been infuriating.

You shifted on your feet, mind racing, trying to piece together as much as a theory. Silco was always planning something, no doubt about that. But why did he feel the need to talk to you, of all people? You were not his goon. You held your own set of interests. Was he seeking your council? Support? These were ambitious suggestions, to put it nicely. You were great at solo assassinations and business negotiation, but that’s where your list of exceptional strengths ended. You were not a raid strategist, you had nothing to offer him in that regard. You had no intel on any Piltover adjacent affairs. If he was seeking you specifically, it must have been something concerning Smeech. But what could that possibly be? To your knowledge, everything was going smoothly between your respective gangs. Were you wrong? Oh God, did Smeech fuck something up?

While you stood there, trying to collect your thoughts, you felt Sevika’s cloak brush your side. She didn’t say another word, just slithered past you and out into the acid-hue light of the Undercity. You were now alone in the dark, listening to water droplets fall monotonously somewhere deep in the alley.

Okay.

Okay.

There was no point in panicking just yet. You had no information to work with. Silco always had a flare for the theatrical, perhaps he just felt like disturbing your peace to keep you on your toes. Remind you of your place, and such. Maybe he has a new urgent deal to negotiate.

Having decided on that hypothesis, you slowly emerged from the alley and continued on your way. You found yourself with your hands shoved deep into your trouser pockets, kicking an empty can down the street as you walked. What was it? What could it be?

Nightfall came quickly, and you were now standing in front of Silco’s office door, trying to steady your breaths. Be cool, be cool. It’s just another meeting. It’s just Silco.

‘Just Silco’? Have you lost your fucking mind? The man will let his shimmer-pumped mutations rip you apart for looking at him weird. He will gut you, armpit to asshole, and then go to dinner with Jinx like nothing fucking happened.

You should have left a final note, you thought to yourself as the door to Silco’s office opened and you stepped in.

You found Silco sitting in his high-back plush chair, as usual. But to your horror, he wasn’t leisurely exhaling rings of smoke, as he usually did. Both of his elbows were planted on the table, he was leaning forward slightly. His jaw was tense. He was tense.

You shot Sevika, who was holding the door open for you, a pleading look. You didn’t know what you were pleading for, precisely. You knew she wouldn’t protect you. If anything, if you were to die in this room tonight, she would be the one to finish you off. She didn’t react to your silent cry for help, but you could have sworn you saw her eyebrow twitch. Did she still not know why you were here?

You were now standing in front of the Eye of Zaun. The flame in his obsidian eye burned you alive, you suddenly felt small. Vulnerable. Naked, even. You were trapped, had nowhere to run or hide, no one knew where you were. No one would come to help.

“Take a seat,” the man gestured to a chair opposite him. You approached it, legs suddenly the consistence of gelatine, and lowered yourself onto it in the most collected way you could manage.

A heavy silence filled the room, interrupted only by the ticking of a clock somewhere out of sight. You could barely hear it over the sound of blood rushing to your temples. You felt a migraine start coming on. You suddenly wanted to cry, not from sadness or even fear for your life, but out of frustration. You have done so many jobs, put your ass on the line so often, ran as fast as you could on the shitty fucking hamster wheel of assassinations, robberies, meetings, missions, just to stay afloat. To stay alive. And now, now that you finally got good at it, now that you finally pulled Smeech’s whole gang and yourself out the vat of shit you’ve been stewing in for years by your own fucking hair, this smug, scrawny, deformed fucker was going to take it all from you? And you couldn’t even put up a fight? What a waste, what a massive, insufferable waste! Of time, of blood, of life! If you knew it would end like this, you would’ve just laid down in that rubble with the rest of your family and froze to death. Now you wouldn’t even get to visit their graves for the last time.

“Do you like working for Smeech?”

Silco’s words sliced through the tantrum in your mind like a knife. Your brain fell deathly quiet. All that remained was a throbbing vein on your forehead, and dull pain spreading to the back of your skull. What did he say?

“What?”

“I said, do you like working for Smeech?”

The headache was now roaring like a forest fire. Feeling like you’ve got nothing to lose, you brought your fingers to both temples and massaged them roughly, closing your eyes.

“He is my boss. Working for him is what I do. Whether I like it or not doesn’t matter,” you muttered through gritted teeth. Your eyes were still closed, and you heard Silco shift in his chair. That’s it. He was coming to slit your throat.

You listened to him get up and walk behind you. You stayed seated. There was no point fighting. A wave of exhaustion, the like of which you have never felt before, crashed over you. Your temples rang.

A feeling of cold fingers on both of your temples jolted you out of your trance, like a bucket of ice water being tipped all over you. You tried to rip out of your seat, but Silco’s elbows came down on your shoulders sharply, keeping you in place. He rubbed small, gentle circles over your temples, and a sob choked in your throat. What the fuck was he doing? Couldn’t he just kill you normally and be done with it?

“Do you want something for the pain?” his voice cascaded down on you in muffled waves. You looked up at him. You knew there were tears glistening in your eyes, and under any other circumstances you would’ve been embarrassed, but you were way too tired for that. Without thinking, you nodded.

Silco glanced over at Sevika and cocked his head towards a cupboard propped up against the far-left wall. She opened it, and after a few moments of rummaging extracted a vile of neon purple, sparking liquid, and a syringe. Shimmer. You instinctively tried to rip out of Silco’s grasp again. You hated the thought of taking shimmer yourself, as hypocritical as it seemed when considering yours and Silco’s arrangements. You’ve seen what bad strands did to people. One particularly bad month several years ago, after a bad batch hit the market, you had to put down several of your goons as they descended into madness. Silco’s grip stayed firm.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, applying some more pressure to your temples, “It’s a pain killer. Completely safe. I take it all the time for my eye.”

The pain was so bad now you could barely move your jaw. All you could do was watch through heavy eyelids as Sevika inverted the vile several times, inserted the needle of the syringe into it and pulled back the plunger. She held the syringe needle up and tapped it several times, bringing any bubbles to the top. She then pushed the plunger, letting a small amount of liquid shoot out, taking the remaining bubbles with it. By all accounts, you thought, they were trying to inject you safely.

As Silco let go of your head and moved in front of you, he held out his hand in Sevika’s general direction. You saw her eyes widen in confusion a bit before dropping the syringe into his palm. He was going to inject you himself, it seemed. How sweet. He lied to you. It’ll probably make you go crazy, make your brain go all mushy bananas.

“I’m doing this intravenously,” Silco muttered, squatting down next to you and rolling up your sleeve, “Because Singed found that this stuff gets digested too quickly to make it to your brain. It’s different for the eye. Its right there, you just inject it, and it works.”

You winced a little as he pushed the needle into your vein. The purple liquid seeped into you as he pushed the plunger carefully.

“Why are you doing this?” every syllable took all your concentration and still came out wonky, “If you are going to kill me, just do it.”

His blue eye found yours, eyebrow lifted in barely registrable surprise.

“Who said anything about killing you? I want you to stop being in pain so we can talk.”

The shimmer was coursing through your veins now in glowing purple streaks under the skin. With every passing second, the pain ceased. Your vision cleared, and as you blinked away the last of your tears you saw Silco discard the syringe in a little bin next his desk and sit back down in his chair. You were now being re-filled with energy, and the embarrassment you were too exhausted to care about before now raged through you. You cried in front of him. In front of Silco. You found yourself wishing he had killed you.

Silco watched as life poured back into you.

“Do you have these episodes often?”

“Only when I’m really stressed.”

“Do you get this stressed often?”

“No, this is the first in a while.”

“And why were you so stressed just now?”

You breathed out through your nose slowly.

“Because I thought you were going to kill me. And I didn’t know what for.”

Silco studied you for a moment, then nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with your honesty. He tapped the desk with his fingers.

“I called you here today,” he started, looking at you intently, “Because I want you to join my team.”

You blinked, struggling to understand what was happening. The pain was almost entirely gone now, but you were afraid your cognitive abilities were still lagging behind.

“But,” you stated carefully, “I work for Smeech.”

“I know. I want you to leave him, and start working for me,” he gestured towards himself.

Your eyes narrowed.

“With all due respect, I am not a rat. Smeech is not the best boss, I’ll admit, everyone knows that. I have a hard time working for him, he is lazy and incompetent. But he took me in. He put a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my stomach. Back, when I had nothing to show for myself. I worked hard to help make our gang what it is today, and I will not abandon it. I believe that the only way to build something worthwhile is through patience and integrity. Smeech is my cross to bear,” you realized that that must have been the longest you have ever talked at Silco. He didn’t interrupt, only listened closely, taking in what you were saying diligently. When you were done, he pulled out a cigar from the top drawer of his desk and lit it. A familiar scent of smoke filled the room.

“I don’t doubt your loyalty,” he sent a ring of smoke in your general direction, “Loyalty is the most important thing, I value it over anything else. But don’t you think it would be nice if Smeech and his goons repaid you with the same loyalty you show them? Wouldn’t it be nice for them to stick their neck out for you a little bit? Don’t you want better working conditions, to be treated with the respect you deserve? Sure, in my gang you will not be my right hand, Sevika is doing a sufficient job, but some little birds have told me that you are not after power or influence anyway. You will continue doing what you have been doing with Smeech, except without the extra responsibility of running the entire ship, and for better pay,” he paused and leant in closer to you, “As much as it hurts, sometimes we outgrow those we once shared a path with.”

The room fell silent again. Your thoughts swarmed. Silco’s proposition was tempting, of course it was. You have longed for the kind of lifestyle he described. But did you want it bad enough to throw away everything you’ve built, your reputation? To be known as the traitor that jumped ship when a better deal came along? Would Silco himself even be able to trust you after that?

“No,” you stood up from the chair and dusted off your pant leg, “I’m sorry, Silco. All of that is tempting, and I am flattered you would even make such a proposal in the first place, but I can’t do it. I may not have much as of right now, but I have pride. You must understand me.”

His mismatched eyes followed you as you turned to the door.

“The offer will stand up until the gathering tomorrow,” he called after you, “You remember that all of your goons have to be there, along with Smeech?”

He was talking about the big monthly gathering your gang had with Silco. A performance review of sorts. You nodded and turned your head to him.

“I remember. Everyone will be there,” you were about to get going, but then a tinge of guilt ran through you. You turned to face him fully.

“And thank you. For helping me today,” you gestured at your head, “I’ll pay you back for the shimmer. And I’m sorry.”

Silco waved at you dismissively. He didn’t say another word, and if you have known him any less you would’ve thought he looked… disappointed? But that, of course, couldn’t be the case. Sevika opened the door for you, and you slipped out into the night. Silco then dismissed Sevika. The office fell gravely silent.

Silco tilted his head up and looked up at the beam running along the roof above his desk. Off to the side, in the dark, a small, blue-haired figure sat silently.

“You heard her,” Silco called out towards the ceiling, “She made her choice. I did everything I could.”

The figure said nothing. It sat, hugging its knees, lightly rocking. Then, suddenly, it dropped down onto the table and dashed out the door at a superhuman speed. Silco only registered two long flowing braids flying past him before the figure disappeared into the night. He sighed and poured himself a drink.

You stomped through the crowded streets of Zaun, unceremoniously pushing anyone that crossed your pathway out of the way. All the fear, all the confusion, all the pain, all of it morphed into a deep, scorching anger that melted your stomach from the inside, burned up the walls of your throat. How dare he? How fucking dare he? Who did he take you for? A fucking rat, a snake, a worm? Why would he even make such a proposition to you? You have always been nothing but loyal to Smeech, that fact was the course of your pride. No matter how difficult, no matter how taxing, you made it work. And now he wanted to prance in, chuck you a bag of money, and expect you to follow him like a dumb sheep? Like a–

You were suddenly swept off your feet by some invisible force and thrown into the nearest alleyway. Before your eyes could adjust to the dark, your back was pressed against the cold brick wall, and another small body was pressing against you. You were about to shout, but a small hand with long nails clamped over your mouth.

“Shh, it’s me! Please, please just listen. Don’t say anything, just listen!”

You recognized the hushed, raspy voice. It was Jinx.

“Don’t go to the meeting tomorrow. Please just trust me, don’t go! Please,” she whispered inches away from your year, her breath ticked the crook of your neck. You pulled her hand off of your mouth.

“Jinx, what the fuck are you doing? Why shouldn’t I go? All my goons will be there.”

You finally made out her face. The dim light of the streetlight just outside of the alleyway reflected in the small beads of tears in her blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you, I really, really can’t. But you have to trust me! Tell them you are sick, tell them you got another headache, anything! Just don’t go,” she begged, pushing even closer into you. How did she know about your migraines?

You pushed her off you. Your voice was cold and stern now.

“Jinx, I am really fucking tired of the mystery games you and your daddy are playing. You either tell me what is going on, and why I shouldn’t go to my job, or I am going home. To sleep before an important meeting tomorrow.”

Halfway through your rant you realized you were being overly harsh. Jinx’s bottom lip was trembling and she latched onto you again. But you couldn’t stop yourself.

“I’m sorry… I can’t. Please!”

She was crying now, her voice breaking off into squeaks. You’ve had enough of this nonsense. You ripped her hands away from yourself again, her nails leaving red trails on your arms. Your head throbbed dangerously again.

“Jinx, please, I have to go home. We can talk about this tomorrow. I am sorry, but I am fucking exhausted from all the mind games. Goodnight.”

And with that, you stormed out of the alleyway, leaving Jinx behind. You knew it wasn’t right, you knew she was upset, and you should comfort her, but in that moment all you wanted was to sleep, for this nightmarish day to be over.

Jinx watched you leave, nervously picking at the nail of her thumb. The further away you got, the more hopeless the situation seemed. A tear fell onto her cheek.

And then, spontaneously, an idea was born. The girl quickly wiped her tears away, shot you one final glance, and started sprinting back home. She had a plan.

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 9

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 4983 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

Y/N sat by a fire pit alone, stoking the flames absent-mindedly as her mind raced with the events that occurred on the beach.

In that respect, she couldn't recall much, but she remembered an unfamiliar power coursing through her - how strong she felt when it took over. And that was another thing, she didn't feel like she was the one in control.

Y/N stared into the fire and thought of the white flames that encased her and her lance before. She'd felt another presence in them, coaxing her, guiding her to using the new power.

'But who are you,' she whispered.

'Hey.'

Y/N flinched as she turned to find Dick standing there, both hands carrying two legs of lamb. His head tilted as he gave her a confused look. 'Who are you talking to?'

'No one,' she answered, shaking herself back to reality. 'Just... clearing my thoughts.'

Dick nodded in understanding. 'Oh, okay...' The two awkwardly looked at each other in silence until Dick held up the two lamb legs and said, 'So... you hungry?'

As if her stomach was listening, it growled loudly before she could give an actual reply. The two chuckled at the comedic timing.

'I think that was answer enough, don't you? Y/N asked, happily taking one of the lamb legs off Dick's hands. She hadn't realised until now how hungry she actually was. The smell of the lamb had her salivating so she took a massive bite from the leg and almost groaned with delight.

'Whoa, someone's hungry,' Dick said amused before taking a bite of his own out of the moist meat. 'Whoa!' he exclaimed. 'This is really good!'

'Much better than MacDonalds, right?' Y/N asked.

With another mouthful of meat, Dick replied, 'You bet!'

It didn't take long for Dick and Y/N to finish their meal, although if Y/N had kept up with time correctly, there was only three or so hours left until sunrise. The fight had gone on longer than she'd imagined, but then there was that whole point of the battle she couldn't recall. It frustrated and scared her to think that she could forget something so important so easily.

A hand on her shoulder brought her back out of her thoughts to see a concerned Dick looking at her. 'Hey, where'd you go just now?'

Y/N shook her head. 'I don't know, really,' she answered. 'I just... I was just thinking about the beach. I don't really remember what happened down there.'

Speaking of it, Y/N's gaze drew to the beach just down the stairs she was situated atop. She saw the fires of the lanterns the Guard that Calliope had set up, saw their light reflect off the dome that still stood around the whole of the mountain Themyscira sat upon. But that just meant she saw the wall of darkness all but pressing up against the dome.

No doubt the monsters remained in case the dome broke down, but they also didn't appear to be doing anything but waiting. What was Echidna planning? That unknown answer was the one that scared her most.

'Well, to put it plainly, you saved all of us,' Dick answered matter-of-factly, his gaze also moving to the beach.

'Don't mess around with words, Dick,' Y/N warned, though her threat was weak at best. There was no heat behind her words, no animosity, just truth. 'I meant... what happened to me down on the beach? When, you know...'

Dick hummed in understanding. 'Yes, that... Well, I don't have the answer specifically, all I know is that you had this... power that just... I don't know, it was like nothing I've ever felt or seen before.'

Y/N chuckled. 'That's saying something considering all we've been through, too.'

Dick let out a soft chuckle, the kind that could warm even a freezer up. 'I'm glad you can find the humour in all this. I can't imagine what you must be feeling all things considered.'

The honesty in his words caused Y/N to face Dick, and she found an equally honest expression on his ridiculously gorgeous face. She spared him a grateful smile before she looked down to her hands that fiddled with the stoker once more.

'I have a theory, you know,' she said. 'About what possibly happened to me.'

'And?' Dick encouraged.

'And... I think it wasn't my power that helped us just now.'

'What makes you say that?'

'When I... blanked, I do remember hearing a voice. It wasn't clear but I know the voice was guiding me, telling me exactly what to do. The most clear statement from the voice, however, was a question: But who are you? I think it was Athena herself speaking to me.'

'Athena?' Dick was stunned. 'You mean, the goddess of warfare and wisdom, as well as your ancestor, technically?'

Y/N nodded. 'I know it sounds crazy, but who else could it be that held such mighty power when it comes to weaponry and warfare.'

'Apart from Ares, no one else but Athena, I guess...' Dick gave Y/N a confused look. 'Why would Athena want to possess you for you to then use her power? If she wanted to help so much, why didn't she just fly down and help us herself?'

Y/N rolled her eyes. 'First of all, Gods don't have wings, Dick. They don't fly down, they would just... appear. Secondly, I don't know why she would want to help us, but I do know Gods never help without a reason.'

'Or a price,' Dick added solemnly.

Y/N nodded, recalling the power she'd held. The danger it possessed if she wielded it wrong. The scene of the monsters simply disintegrating into nothing but minuscule dust particles replayed at the back of her mind constantly.

'I'd like to think she'd help us because we are her blood and bone,' Y/N said, curling her fingers inwards to form frustrated fists. 'But her power... I don't know if I can wield it as she does. So precisely and destructively. What if someone innocent gets hurt because I can't control it. Goodness, I can't even remember half the battle just now; how am I supposed to control the power if I can't control myself?'

'Okay, whoa, ease up,' Dick said, holding his hands out in a "calm down" manner. 'I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself here. You don't even know if you still have the power. What if it was a one time thing?'

'But what if it wasn't?' Y/N argued.

'Then we will cross that bridge when we get to it,' Dick answered cooly, without hesitation. 'Look, Y/N, you are not some tyrant who uses power to harm others. In all the time I've known you, I don't think you're even capable of harming innocents. Your worst fears of yourself, they are never going to come to fruition because you're-'

Dick cut himself off and Y/N couldn't help but notice the red flush creeping up from his neck. The intensity of which his blue eyes were looking at her made her feel simultaneously vulnerable and impenetrable. The silence that hung between them had her heart stuttering. Out of hope, out of fear, she couldn't tell the two apart anymore.

'I'm...?' she asked, not daring to try and finish that sentence, It was silly really. They were in the middle of a war and here she was thinking about all the almosts, all the close calls. The moment back on the balcony before Echidna decided to wage her war on Themyscira. It was stupid, but Y/N couldn't help it. Even after all this time, she couldn't help it when it came to Dick Grayson.

'You're... you're the best person there is,' he finally finished, but his words sounded strained. As if he had planned something else to say. 'You're a good leader, Y/N. You are strong and compassionate and I've never known anyone else to hold onto their resolve and values as much as you can. If it's Athena's power that possessed you, then, well, I couldn't think of anyone more suitable to wield it.'

Y/N wasn't sure why she was surprised anymore. Her heart deflated at his words, or more so at the words he didn't say. She couldn't believe she was still hoping after all this time that he would ever say what she wanted him to say, to feel all that she felt for him and more.

But she wasn't some heartbroken eighteen-year-old anymore. Dick was right, she was a leader now, and they had a war to win above all else.

So she smiled her gratitude, but couldn't help a chuckle as she said, 'Athena's not a demon, you know. I don't think gods "possess" people.'

'Well what would you call it then?'

Y/N shrugged. 'I don't know. I just... I don't want the women to think I'm weird, you know?'

'Too late for that I'm afraid, Princess.'

Y/N glared at Dick at the mention of her title, but eventually dropped it and sighed. 'I more meant I don't want them to think I'm a god or something. I don't want them to fear me.'

Dick looked thoughtfully down at the beach for a moment before returning to look at Y/N. 'God or not, everyone should be right to fear you. I mean, you're an actual Amazon warrior who can lift cars above her head with one arm and can fly with just a single thought. Who wouldn't be a little fearful of you?'

'Are you really trying to make me feel better?' Y/N flatly asked.

'I'm getting to that point,' he countered. 'What I'm trying to say is, yes, you are terrifying to certain people. But anyone who knows you and cares for you knows who you truly are.'

'And what's that, Grayson?'

'A good person,' Dick answered, eyes locked with hers. 'A true leader with a heart of gold. Echidna messed with the wrong Amazon, and she's gonna regret it. I just know it.'

Despite his joking demeanour, Y/N could tell he was being sincere now. Better yet, he was being honest, and while it didn't appease the fear in her heart, she appreciated his kindness.

Another thing she frustratingly loved about him.

She smiled at him. 'Thanks. I really needed that.'

Dick smiled in return. 'I know you, Y/N. Just like you know me. I'll always be here to help keep your head on straight.' With a tired groan, Dick stands up. 'Speaking of which, you should probably get some sleep before the sunrise. Who knows what Echidna has in store for us next.'

Dick offered his hand to help Y/N up, to which she graciously accepted. He pulled her to her feet and the two of them walked to the tent that was setting up cots for soldiers not on duty to sleep on until it was time to get up.

At the first empty cot they found, Dick said, 'You take this one. I'm sure there is another one nearby.'

'Thanks,' Y/N said, offering him a sweet smile. 'And thanks... for before.'

'Don't mention it,' Dick replied, but instead of walking away he continued to stare at her. It was like he was contemplating his next move. Just as Y/N was going to go to bed, he swiftly stepped close enough to her to place a kiss on her forehead.

The action caught her so off guard she just froze, aware of nothing but his lips on her skin. Even when he stepped away, his kiss felt like it was burning into her forehead.

'Goodnight, Princess,' he said softly, and then he was turning away and striding down the aisles of cots in search of an empty one.

Long after he'd disappeared from her sight, she still looked on into space, fingers delicately pressed to her forehead. What in the name of Aphrodite was that about?

~~~

Y/N didn't remember falling asleep, only that one moment she was frozen with confusion over her conflicting emotions regarding a certain dark-haired batboy, and the next she was waking up at the first ray of sunshine.

Y/N sat up and threw her legs over the side of the cot. Her muscles ached slightly, but that was possibly the cot's fault. It really wasn't the comfiest of bedding to use. But they were at war, so they would have to make do.

It suddenly struck Y/N how quiet it was. She looked around her; everyone was still asleep. She strained to hear for any outside noise but could not register any. That's odd, she thought, and so stood up and made her way outside the tent.

Even when she had first entered the tent, there were Amazons sitting around chatting and laughing and cooking. In general, there had been a huge commotion even in the early hours of the morning. But as she stepped out of the tent, it alarmed her to see nothing but white fog around the campsite they had set up in the streets.

What in the world... Y/N walked around the fires that had long since died when they should've still been burning. She noticed the absence of warriors heavily. Where is everyone?

A thought had her running for the stairs that lead down to the beach. She could barely see the next step as they came up, but she didn't care. Some horrible feeling inside her said something was wrong.

Distracted, Y/N tripped on the last step and landed face first in the sand with a heavy thud. But she didn't waste time getting up as she spat out sand and scrambled to her feet. There should've been torches, but the fog was too thick even almost standing next to them.

Y/N walked slowly through the fog, unsure what direction she now was heading. I really should've brought a weapon, she thought, berating herself at how vulnerable she felt.

After a few metres of blindly walking, she saw a torch stand through the fog. She ran for it, but upon closer approach she noticed the flame had gone out. Y/N looked into the pit in which the flame would've been burning, and found still warm ashes sitting there.

This went out recently. Now Y/N was really regretting not bringing a weapon. She spun around blindly, expecting an attack at any point. But what was she going to do if they did? I need to get back to camp and wake everyone up.

Just as she took a step in the direction she thought the stairs were, she kicked something quite solid, almost tripping over it. She had to bend down to see through the fog to see what it had been.

To her horror, it was the body of an Amazon. Well, just her torso that is. As Y/N inspected closer, she found more body parts scattered nearby. Blood and guts littered and stained the beach, and Y/N finally realised that it wasn't just the parts of one body she was looking at. It was the entire Guard they'd assigned to watch the dome.

Y/N covered her mouth to stop her from both screaming and throwing up the lamb she had only a few hours ago. What could've done this? Unless...

A growl emanated somewhere in the fog, and Y/N put aside her disgust and picked up one of her dead comrade's swords. Again, she spun around in anticipation of an attack, but she couldn't tell where the sound was coming from. It sounded everywhere and nowhere all at once.

She backed up and to her relief her feet met with stone. The stairs. Y/N took a step up backwards, keeping her eye and sword aimed on the fog in front of her. She was trying to be quiet, but the fog made the steps slightly wet. One step she didn't quite make, and her foot slipped down, causing her to yelp in fear. Y/N quickly balanced herself, but she'd given herself away.

A giant dog-like creature leaped from the fog, its fangs bared sharp and ready to bite. Y/N reflexively put the sword up as a block and pushed the hound off. When it lunged at her again with an open mouth, she plunged the sword into the roof of the hound's mouth. It howled in agony, but Y/N only pushed the sword even more until it pierced the creature's brain.

It fell lifelessly to the ground as Y/N pulled the sword out. As she did, she noticed the fog clearing slowly and revealing more hounds and other creatures waiting on the beach. They stared up at her hungrily, snapping their jaws as if imagining how she would taste when they got to her.

Y/N didn't wait to find out that answer, instead turning and sprinting as fast as she could up the stairs and back to camp. She heard the howls and hisses of the monsters, felt the stairs tremble with their paws and hooves. Y/N ducked as a giant wasp-like monster swooped at her, but she just swiped at the monster's wings and didn't look to see it plummet to the earth.

As she approached the top of the stairs, she cried, 'Get up! Get up!' Assume offensive stations!' But as she reached the city, she was horrified to see that the fight had already begun. The fog had been a hiding place for the monsters, as well a way to keep everyone but her asleep, it seemed. Giving them enough to infiltrate the edges of the city.

The dome hadn't held, and now they were well and truly under attack.

Remembering the creatures that followed her, she turned and began slicing her sword at any that came near her. She sent some tumbling back down the stairs, knocking others down as well. But they just kept coming.

'Princess, look out!'

Y/N turned around to find some warriors about to roll a barrel down the stairs, so she dove out of the way as they did. The creatures howled as they were taken out and rolled back down the mountain. Out of nowhere, a flaming arrow arced over the mountainside and landed perfectly on the still-moving barrel, causing an explosion that sent monster guts and marble stone flying everywhere.

Y/N looked to her left to see archers lined up on the roofs of houses, some flaming, some normal. They aimed at those on the ground, as well as the giant insects and harpies that flew in the sky.

Y/N caught the eye of one of the flaming archers, no doubt the one who'd blown the barrel up, and gave a nod of approval. The warrior returned the gestures, then returned to her duties.

'Keep this up! Don't let anymore up the stairs!' she called to the barrel soldiers.

'Yes, Princess!' they replied, already moving onto their next barrel filled with, Y/N figured, explosive powder.

Satisfied that the area was being taken care of, Y/N looked to the skies. The harpies and insects were dropping rocks and attacking from on high. The screams of her friends compelled Y/N to run towards a tall pile of rubble and leap onto a harpy flying by.

The creature screeched and spun around in the effort to shake Y/N off. But Y/N gripped the scruff of the harpy's neck nape and pulled backwards. The harpy, midair, reared up like a horse, but still Y/N held on. Now with a better grip, Y/N guided the harpy to fly high and forwards. Guiding the harpy with one hand, Y/N used the other hand to slice and stab the other harpies and insects attacking her friends.

One by one, they plummeted to the ground. The insects splattered while the harpies either fell on the rubble or they were killed by nearby warriors.

A certain large gathering of hounds on the ground caught Y/N's attention, and as she flew the harpy closer she saw what brought the hounds there. Quickly, she plunged her sword into the harpy's head and leaped off it as the creature fell lifelessly to the ground.

She tumbled right into the middle of the gathering and pressed her back up against the meat that drew the hounds there. 'You sure know how to pick your battles, Grayson,' she said as she spun around with her sword at the ready.

'Hey, it's not my fault I'm so appealing,' he countered, that arrogant charm of his unfaltering even now. 'Though I have to admit, this isn't the target audience for my charms.'

'Gods, you know no shame, do you?'

'I know, it's both a flaw and a super power.'

Y/N rolled her eyes. 'Less talking, batboy, and more fighting.'

Simultaneously Y/N and Dick swung out at the hounds, causing them to leap at the two of them. It didn't take long for them to behead the creatures, leaving the two of them standing in the middle of the circle of death heaving for breath.

Dick finally broke the silence when he turned to Y/N and said between gulping breaths. 'Batboy? Really? That's low, even for you.'

Y/N shrugged. 'Sorry. Slip of the tongue.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N noticed something was happening to the slaughtered hounds. It looked like green energy was being sucked out of them, slowly causing them to completely disintegrate.

'What's happening to them?' Dick asked, coming to stand beside Y/N.

'I don't know,' she answered, eyes following the trails of green energy back to the camp. A cold stone feeling settled in her stomach. 'But we better go find out. Come on!'

Y/N and Dick ran back through the damaged streets towards the camp, leaping over fallen statues and jumping over giant holes in the cobblestone ground. Y/N had never been more grateful for her call to evacuate the city two evenings ago. Who knew how many more bodies, how many more innocents would be lying dead on the streets with their fallen warriors.

Y/N and Dick raced around the corner but stopped at the sight that greeted them. The energy from the hounds - along with the other monsters, both fallen and still fighting - wasn't just going anywhere. It was being sucked and sourced into creating something larger than all the monsters Echidna sent. The last of the energy from its fellow monsters finished the third head of the serpent-like dragon creature, causing that stone cold feeling in Y/N to spread over her whole body in terrified realisation.

'Hydra! Take cover!' Y/N cried as she grabbed Dick's hand and dragged him towards a building that had pillars out the front.

The monster reared its three heads back before spitting out fire all over the camp. Y/N and Dick ducked behind a pillar just in time, but Y/N felt the heat of the flames at the pillar's edge. Dick must've felt them too, as he quickly pulled Y/N into his chest and held her close. Y/N instinctively clutched onto his back, and there they held each other until the heat died down and they could move.

Y/N took a peep of the damage that had been done. Warriors - friends - that hadn't taken cover were melted into the ground, the walls of buildings, into carts too. Some laid screaming from where the flames had just caught them. The flames had been so intense they'd melted off the body parts unfortunate enough to be caught.

The screams threatened to consume Y/N. She couldn't take her eyes away from them all. But one girl caught Y/N's eyes. She laid just a few metres away from where Y/N stood in the safety of the building. She was on her stomach, crawling towards Y/N, towards safety. Her head was partially burnt, leaving behind only tufts of brown hair. Her legs had melted off, and still she struggled.

As the warrior's eyes met Y/N's, and she reached out with one hand and cried, 'Princess! Help me! Help me, please!'

Y/N realised what the warrior meant. She'd saved them all on the beach last night, she could pull off another miracle again. But Y/N couldn't feel any power surging inside her. In fact, she'd never felt more powerless in her life. Athena was not coming to help them this time, and there was nothing Y/N could do about it.

But I am here. I can help.

Y/N shook herself out of her thoughts and made to go down the steps of the building. 'I'm coming-'

Y/N stopped when the hydra slammed its foot down on the warrior, spraying her blood and guts all over Y/N. It took Y/N's brain a moment to compute what just happened, and even after she did, Y/N did not move. The image of the warrior pleading to her to help froze her; the feeling of blood and guts all over her made her want to hurl, but she was - for the first time in a long time - too scared to move.

The world had gone quiet, all senses but her sight had gone numb.

'Y/... /N... Y/N!'

One moment she was staring at where the warrior had just been squashed, the next Y/N was rolling along the bloodied cobblestone streets, Dick's arms around her.

Once they'd stopped, Y/N looked to where they'd been standing to see another foot of the hydra's standing there. She'd been so out of it, she almost ended up like the fallen warrior.

Y/N's attention turned to Dick as he placed a hand on her upper arm and heaved her to her feet. 'Come on, we've got to move!' he cried, dragging her to follow the other warriors who were fleeing the camp area.

It was like his touch activated her senses once more, as she was able to regain balance and a sense of surroundings in order to run alongside Dick. Together, the two scrambled through the city, following the remaining warriors that fled for the palace. The palace possessed ancient magic that dispelled any unwanted visitors. Y/N hoped that included unwanted and unexpected hydras.

As they drew closer to the palace gates, Y/N recognised Calliope was the one holding them open, ushering everyone. 'Hurry up, get inside!' she cried, then she turned and spotted Y/N and Dick. Relief softened her expression, but her eyes quickly widened as her gaze drifted somewhere behind them. 'Hurry, it's right behind you!'

Both Dick and Y/N turned to briefly look at the hydra. It had turned the pathway they'd just run on into a scorched wasteland, nothing but burning houses and scolding hot rocks in its wake. Its triple green gaze fell on the two of them and reared its three heads, ready to strike.

Y/N and Dick didn't wait to see what happened next, as they turned back around and sprinted with all their energy and will to survive to the gates of the palace.

'Come on!' Calliope called, and soon she was joined by others.

'Keep going!'

'Run faster!'

'Hurry!'

'Come on!'

They'd reach the gates as the hydra blew its fiery attack. Y/N, Calliope, Dick, and whoever was nearby gripped onto the palace gates and yanked them as hard and as fast as they could to close them.

Calliope yelped as some of the flames squeezed through the gap of the closing gates, stumbling backwards before falling into a crouch with her hands tucked tight to her chest.

Everyone stood back from the gates, waiting for fire or smoke or the hydra itself to burst through the gates. But no matter how much it attacked, nothing came through.

'We're safe,' one of the Amazons nearby said with immense relief.

'For now,' Y/N added, turning to crouch with Calliope. 'What's wrong? How can I help?'

In the time Y/N had known Calliope, she had never seen the brave warrior cry. But her she was, crouched, almost folded in on herself, offering her burnt and blistered hands out to Y/N with tears pouring like waterfalls down her flushed and dirty cheeks.

Horror and guilt tore through Y/N like a sword to the heart, piercing what she thought was a soldier's composure. She reached out to Calliope's hands and gently cradled them, avoiding actual contact less she cried more.

'I am... I am sorry, Calliope,' Y/N murmured softly, unsure how else to express the pain she felt for her friend. The pain she had caused her friend.

Y/N looked to the crowd that was huddled in the courtyard of the palace. There were, by the looks of things, less than one quarter of the warriors that were based at Y/N's camp standing before her. That including the injured, the barely standing, the barely breathing. She could hardly tell if anyone but herself and Dick had come out of the hydra encounter unscathed.

Princess! Help me! Help me, please!

Y/N swallowed the stomach acid that threatened to come up and stood up, addressing the crowd. 'Anyone here a medic?' Three girls put their hands up. 'Good. Take General Calliope and any other injured warriors to the Palace Infirmary and assist with their care. Everyone else, head to the kitchens and find some food. Then get some rest. I will... I will...'

This is where her mind went blank. Even with all her training, all her experiences with bad guys and death, she couldn't unsee the poor girl, who couldn't have been much older than herself, reaching out to her, expecting Y/N to save her. She couldn't unsee the blood, the guts, the melted bodies.

She couldn't see what their next step was.

'You heard the Princess,' Dick suddenly interjected. 'Now go.'

The remaining warriors nodded their heads in agreement and scurried away, many helping the injured to the infirmary as they went. One of the medics and another warrior came to collect Calliope, who still cried with pain.

Her howls echoed well and truly past when she left the courtyard, leaving Y/N feeling more empty and sorrowful than she'd ever been.

~~~

Tag List:

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[more-mara]

Here’s an old WIP of mine that I have yet to finish.

Only now did Oscar actually get a good look at the captain's face. The man who had basically ruled the seven seas for the last 8 years, the man whose name alone could send a man trembling to his knees. Oscar didn’t think he’d ever get the misfortune to meet him.

Oscar bowed his head, looking away from the scarred yet shockingly young looking face of the captain. He flexed his hand in his binds, feeling the rope start to burn and chafe against his damp skin.

“What is your name, boy?” The captain asked as Oscar raked his eyes up from the pristinely polished boots to stare at the sword hilted in the captain's belt.

Oscar bit the inside of his cheek, knowing that giving his name would probably be the last thing he ever did, no one survived a run in with Captain Sainz- it’s why no one knew for sure what he looked like. Oscar felt a little defiant, wanting to at least die with dignity.

Suddenly, a booted foot was planted against his back, Oscar fell forward with a groan as his face planted straight into the wooden floor of the ship, his hands still tied behind him.

“Answer when the captain speaks to you,” A voice said. He sounded French, maybe. Oscar struggled to place it exactly but as he turned his head to look at the man, he had an amused glint in his eye- as if he was enjoying Oscar’s guts for defiance.

“Oscar,” He grunted, gaze fixed on the man behind him- decidedly not at the captain. The man’s face lit up. Yeah, he was definitely enjoying this.

“Oscar? Not a very nobel name,” The man said with a smirk.

“I am not a nobel,” Oscar said, straining in his confines. The man behind him seemed to take pity, removing his foot from Oscar’s back to haul him back onto his knees. Oscar was faced with the captain once more, whose face was deep in a frown.

“What are you, then? You don’t look like you can fight,” The captain said, his eyes raking across Oscar’s figure, taking in the tattered clothing and overall dishevelled appearance.

Oscar bit his bottom lip, eyes meeting the captain’s once more. He tried not to let his voice shake as he spoke.

“Women are prohibited on our ships by the articles, sir, bad luck, you see?” Oscar said, looking almost a little desperately at the captain- praying he knew what he meant without having to explain.

“Are you seriously explaining pirate code to me?” The captain asked. He looked completely unimpressed and almost angered. Oscar winced a little, straightening his back.

“The men- they need…they are still men, and men have needs…”

The wave of silence crashed over them quicker than the ripples on the ocean. Oscar could see the tension in the captain's face and he heard a small gasp coming from his left- another of captain Sainzs crew.

“If I spare your life, will you be useful to me?” The captain asked, his gaze narrow and steely. Oscar swallowed thickly- he had done this ‘job’ for years now, a different crew would be no different. He knew how to please- how to be of worth.

“Whatever you ask, I will do, sir” Oscar said and he hated how his voice shook. When his previous ship was attacked, he thought he was saved. They flew the flag of the navy and Oscar felt his heart lurch in his chest when he spotted it. Freedom, at last, after 6 gruelling years. But no, it appears Captain Sainz had flown the flag of the monarchy as a ruse to capture their cargo. And it worked, with Oscar being captured along the way.

“You will help the men clean their weapons, you can start tomorrow morning,” The Captain said, and Oscar felt himself frowning.

“I thought-“

“You said you will do whatever I ask, correct?”

Oscar nodded.

“Well, this is what I am asking. Charles, keep him straight,” The Captain said, nodding to the man behind him. So Charles was his name, good to know, Oscar supposed. Charles gave him a smug grin before unsheathing his sword, cutting away Oscar’s binds with swift accuracy.

“Welcome aboard, matey,”

[jojoboisimagines]

Jojos react to you accidentally punching them in the face while roughhousing

Jojos (1-7) react to accidentally punching them in the face while roughhousing

.::.

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan, surprisingly, isn't completely made of brick and instantly grips his nose after you strike it rather hard.

Once you apologize over and over, he lets out a strained chuckle, not wanting to worry you even longer despite it still hurting.

"beloved, you sure have a hand on you..."

He laughs, regarding of the ache that made his head spin for a moment.

"Hang tight Jojo, I'm getting some cream!" You quickly dash off.

"wait, darling, its not that bad-" Before he finishes, you had already left to get something to ease the pain

It was gone in a couple of minutes, he was a tough guy..but perhaps play hitting is off the table for a while-

Joseph Joestar

"Owowowow---did you do that on purpose??"

He's quick to accuse. It probably wouldn't be the first time you wanted to hit him for real, but this time was an honest mistake.

"no Jojo, it was just an accident!" you swear up and down, but it takes a bit before he actually believes you.

Eventually he leaves to get an icepack for his nose before Lisa Lisa or someone else sees, which would be infinitely more embarrassing.

"maybe we should just stick to tickling or something.." He mutters in a defeated manner, holding the ice up to soothe the ache.

it was admiteddly a little funny, but for the sake of him not staying mad at you, you'll withhold your laughter for now.

"I want compensation for my beautiful eye!" He holds out his hand, expecting something.

"wh--I said i was sorry! I'll get it later!"

Jotaro Kujo

Jotaro lets out a pained hiss, facepalming as he needed a minute.

Concern quickly overcomes you and you pull his hand away to make sure there was no mark or anything broken.

"Lets stop." He's no longer in the mood for play fighting--if anything he thought it was a bad idea in the first place in fear of him hurting you--when it turned out being the other way around.

You feel awful for punching him that hard on accident, especially since you knew he was probably upset or wanted to pretend he isn't hurt.

"I'm sorry, Jotaro.." Putting a comforting hand on his arm, you lean over to look at his face that had been turned from you.

"it was just a punch, i've had worse." He was right on that front, but a punch is a punch.

"alright tough guy, but at least tell me when something hurts.." You put a bag of ice on it, making him wince.

"was it not obvious-" he argues.

That was enough to make you scoff in both humor and disbelief.

Josuke Higashikata

"Oi Timeout timeout!"

Josuke makes the T gesture with his hand and heaves, now hunching over with his hands on his knees.

"..Josuke? You good?" You lean over his crouched form, not realizing how strong the impact on his face was.

"im..i'm good, just give me a minute-" he bluffs, clearly being out of breath. You didn't believe it for a second. He never was that good of a liar, to you at least.

Ignoring his protests, you go and get the first aid kit in his house's closet, coming back with some ointment and a bandaid

"There, now you look like more of a delinquint at least!~" you smile after placing it across his nose.

"True but...lets just not tell anyone this came from you punching me in the face, alright?"

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno has a...delayed reaction for lack of a better term. He certainly stops hitting and stumbles, but it takes him a moment to actually register that what he's feeling in his cheeks is actual pain

To spare your feelings, he'll act like it didn't hurt as much as it did, only rubbing the spot a bit and standing normally again.

"..giorno? You good?" you eventually ask, since he isn't really giving any hints as to why he went silent.

"i'm fine, dearest." Giorno is actually pretty good at playing it off, but you could tell his tone sounded a bit different

He likely isn't going to admit that it hurt, so you have to make the call to stop roughhousing. It wasn't worth it to mess up his pretty face.

You'll just...subtly get him some ice cream as an apology

Jolyne Kujo

"oW! you dick!"

Jolyne punches back twice as hard, which probably wasn't the best thing to do in this situation, but she's been roughhoused enough times in her life-

Now both of you were hurting, holding your heads in pain.

"j-Jolyne, did i hurt you?"

"Yeah! I said ow, didn't I?" She snaps back, rubbing her cheek.

She won't hold it against you for long, but you figure you should buy her a snack or something to 'regain her trust' again

"..need me to kiss it better?" You suggest, both as a tease and honestly.

Jolyne's eyes dart around...well, there was no one around to see, so maybe just this once. "..fine.." She unfolds her arms, scooting towards you.

Johnny Joestar

"Okay Okay I get it!-"

Johnny puts both of his hands up to shield his face from your assualt, and for a moment you think he's joking, before a whole minute goes by with him like that and not saying anything.

"..hey, Johnny, let me see..." Your hand gently coasts over his, slowly pulling it away.

His face was super red. Tears were partially visible at the corners of her eyes.

it was almost humorous, as it usually is when his face reddens, but he was also in pain

"do you need something? I can get a bandage." You suggest, not knowing where you hit to cause that reaction

"i need you to stop hitting me that hard, goddam-"

he was only making it harder not to laugh, but you were truly sorry and will treat him to coffee to make his pout go away

[dominarava]

Angel

Ghostface × Female!Reader

CW: Dub/Non-Con, Blood, Stalking, Breaking & Entering, usual fucked up GF stuff

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: The quiet guy in your discord server decides to chat you up in the general vc, and as expected, has a lot more to unpack than you ever expected.

Notes: I was lazy and just posted the ugly default AO3 link when I first posted this, so I'm coming back and making it look nicer with new and improved tags lol

This piece doesn't specify who is really behind the mask, so whoever you want is up to you~

I had fun with this and left light references to the movies, Dead By Daylight, and Mortal Kombat to honor some of my favorite appearances of him-- hopefully it doesn't ruin the immersion lol

I don't usually leave notes, but it's been a while and I've adored all the comments and kudos I've gotten in my absence, cause at the end of the day, that's what will always bring me back. I love all your support and time reading this and hopefully I have more soon to come for you all!

Thank you again so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy! 🔪💕✨️

AO3 Link

This had become the nightly habit: get off work, make dinner, chill with the lads in a Discord call until bedtime. Mindlessly playing a game, you weren't surprised by the sound of someone joining the call, however you were surprised by who it was. He was a rando that had joined a while back, was nice enough, but didn't have much to say as he relegated himself to really only short replies or emoji reactions. You could have sworn he posted a thirst trap without his face in the #selfies channel, but you weren't 100% sure. When he would join calls he would always stay muted, opting to reply in the text chat or not at all, merely listening to and enjoying just being around the good times happening. All the same, you felt it rude to not say at least a little hello. 

“Hey! How’re you doin’ tonight?” 

“Hey there~” 

The voice on the other side was low, having a bit of a flirtatious twang in the sigh of his greeting. Your heart skipped a beat, you weren't sure if he had ever spoken to you, much less anyone else in the server. And if you were being honest, he sounded kind of hot. Letting the giddy feeling ride, you tried to keep him talking since it was just the two of you. 

“Woah–” You poked cheekily, “I dunno if I've heard you say anything before.” 

“I'm more of a one-on-one kind of guy,” He offered smoothly, “But I enjoy listening to everyone having a good time.” 

“Fair–” 

The air fell dead as you wondered what to talk about next, letting him cut into the silence with a question, “So.. what's your favorite scary movie?” 

Having just finished a server horror movie night not too long ago, the question felt like a natural segway into your interests, “Hmmnn that's actually a good question– I think if we're just talkin’ horror in general my first and favorite would have to be Silence Of The Lambs. The back and forth relationship between Clarice and Dr. Lecter was probably one of the most challenging to my mind at the ripe age of twelve, since then I've loved horror that has a female protagonist that is put under pressure by the killer to make difficult choices and solve the puzzle he left for her.

“But– that's not to say pieces like Substance or Midsommer aren't incredible mentally challenging works of art to me, I love both, along with movies like The Empty Man, Smile, It Follows, The VVitch, The Void, V/H/S–”

He cut your train with a light chuckle, “I definitely want to know which you thought was better, Smile or It Follows, but I meant to ask, what’s your favorite slasher movie?” 

You gave this one a lot more consideration as your heart swelled with a damning excitement at the thought of your favorite killers, “That's such a hard choice! Of course Micheal Myers from <i>Halloween</i> is like everyone's big daddy– but I think if I had to choose it would have to be Stab! Ghostface is just a lot more fun, playful, and let's be honest– horny.” 

“Oh yeah?” He hummed, “Why's that?” 

How his tone seemed to curl at the end of his words made your chest tighten and a heat rise to your cheeks, “I mean, at the heart of it.. the voice actor responsible for his voice changer in the movie said that his tone is flirtatious, beyond that– between the fact that the first Ghostface seemed to get off on the idea of causing his object of obsession, Sidney, the most pain possible by the mocking of her mother being the town bicycle and it's even pointed to at the end of the movie that the two who were behind the Ghostface killings were the same two that brutalized Sidney's mother–” 

“Goddamn–” Nearly groaning his words as he cut you off, he cleared his throat and pressed, “Good girl~ You sure do know your stuff.” Praising you with words that melted like chocolate over your tongue, your mind tilted at his words, ‘Good girl’. 

Good girl?!

“Excu–”

“I fuckin’ love girls like you–” He went on, swearing you could hear the ache of him through the call, “Your type always knows how really appreciate us..” 

‘Us’?

Before you could get a word in, he went on, “Buuut it looks like that's my cue– I hope you're ready for some fun this evening.” Leaving the conversation with the disconnect sound chiming through your ears in silence to process what just happened. 

The sound of him leaving the call let a wash of relief run over you, only lasting for a moment as the floor creaking caught your attention with arms wrapping you in a winding embrace. Having your arms pinned at your sides, your hands flailed looking for any sort of way out. Only, the way your grip seemed to find his length caged behind his pants before skirting over to the long hunting knife strapped to his leg, making your struggle against him stop with a gasp.

“Yeah.. that's all for you Babe, whatever you need– so.. let's behave.. alright..?” The same voice that was lingering in your headset only moments ago was in high definition against your back. 

Firmly pressing his hand over your mouth, you froze as someone else joined the empty call with you, “Hey you there?” 

Your headphones loud enough for him to hear, an uneasy pause passed between you two as his hold over your lips lessened, “Yeah-” He let you breathe through his nitrile gloved fingers.

“Good, kinda glad he's gone, he's chill and all, but it kinda bugs me that he's just in here just dead-ass silent all the time. Fuckin’ weird.” 

Looking over your shoulder a bit to get any sort of a look at him, you were only met with the deep black drooping eyes framed by a gasping bone white mask. Familiarity of the visage made your heart drop into your stomach, forcing you to chew on the harsh fact that that same familiarity you knew to fear, also brought the flutter of butterflies in with it.  

A rough bump of his hips to your back-end snapped you out of your own mind and made you bark out, “Uh– Same– he is kinda weird, I've– talked to him a little bit and he just– seems like a bit of a creep..”

“Oooh shit whaddaya mean?” 

He peered over your shoulder to look at you, curious to see how you would pull this along as his other hand pushed at the elastic of your pajama bottoms, “He uh– waited for everyone to leave– and then started hella chatting me up–” 

“Are you good? It sounds like you're doing something.” 

Eyeing him, the slight nod of his head coaxed you to keep talking while his fingers made their home in exploring your heat, “Yeah I'm fine– I think I pulled a muscle and I–”

“Oh shit– sorry, one sec– groceries are here, I'll be back in a minute!”

At the sound of her disconnection he lifted you up with a near effortless toss onto the bed, wasting no time crawling on top of you to get at what little clothing was left with his blade. Watching the fabric dance away from your frame, he gripped your wrist as you tried to switch your mic off.

“Go on.. stay in that call.. let ‘em all know what a stagy little whore you are.” He pushed, lifting the hem of his hoodie above the glimmer of the silver button hiding his length behind the black denim. 

No time was wasted getting into you, making himself at home between your legs with a few rough thrusts and shivering grunts that made your mind twist. Squirming under him the grit falling off his boots into your blankets made you buck against him in frustration, earning a low sigh from him as his beat picked up. 

“Mmn if you keep fighting me.. I'll gut you like a fucking pig.” Groaning into your ear, the delicate touch of his knife teased itself between your breasts. 

Defiance sparked in you to bite back, “If we're– oh god– following the rules, you'll just do it anyway–” 

The blade pulled its edge against your skin, splitting you like a ripe peach under its cut, “True.. but the killer's favorite little slut never dies.. she's gotta make it to the sequel, the trilogy, hell! Maybe a whole fuckin’ saga..”

Suddenly ringing in your ear the sound of the bluetooth assistant chimed,

Battery Low.. Please Charge Soon.

You held your lips tight as the length of him pushed to the hilt over and over, letting the air in the call stay dead as your friend and others passed through, thinking you were away from your keyboard. 

“What’s wrong? Suddenly have nothing to say? I thought you liked the idea of being yanked around by a big man with a knife? Little different than on the big screen, ain't it Babe?” 

You could practically hear him purring behind the mask, his pace slowing to deep grind as you felt the rub of his metal pants zipper dig into your skin like a threat.

“Mmmm– remember a couple weeks back– we were all watching that scary movie– when you wouldn't shut the fuck up about how you wanted to ride that slashers cock like a carnival ride– fuck you don't know what that did to me– hearing you get all giddy about bouncing on dick after a kill– goddamn you don't have a fuckin’ clue– how bad I wanted bust through that fuckin’ window and tear you apart–” 

Gripping his palm across your eyes to pin your head to the bed, the unrelenting barrage of what came was less of a kiss and more of a hostile takeover of your senses. You couldn't tell how long you were left to his devices, using you with the excitement of a new sex doll he'd been waiting months for. The fight in you began to fade with the swipe of your tongue to his, earning the zeal of him rutting into you harder. 

“See.. I knew you'd love it..” 

Battery Low.. Please Charge Soon.

Dipping down to your chest to kiss the fresh wound that lay spilling blood around your breasts, taking in the heavy scent of your rubies like a jewel thief making his biggest heist. Slipping his free hand over your chest to the slick of your nipple made you gasp as a perfect distraction before pulling his mask back down. Adorning his usual visage now laid a smeared print of your life in blinding crimson, letting that be the first and only thing you saw as he let you have your vision back in the darkness. Against the blur of your eyes readjusting from the pressure of his weight on them, the dip of his frame dropping against yours with his hands gripping the sides of your head in a vice made you dizzy with a feral beat between your legs. Throughout his treatment you didn't feel that familiar latex rub of a barrier between you, forcing your stomach into a twist as his panting behind the mask got heavier. 

The first grace of the evening came when you finally heard the powering down beeping of your headset giving its last bit of juice before cutting out. Unbound by the fear of being heard, your voice let out a moan that vibrated the silence of the dead air room. Relaxing a little under him, he pushed your rear up, angling himself better to pump deep before running his fingers over the tacky blood joining the fresh on your chest in a macabre mess. Having the dig of his fingertips into the open wound weeping from you was a new kind of violation before he breathed out a shaken manic pleasure from the mask that captivated you. 

“Oh fuck– I'm going to smear your blood over my every  fucking pore!” The bubbling frenzy in his tone gave away his devouring bliss as it promised to swallow you whole. 

Honestly, you weren't long for the session either way as he found just the right spot to rub his tip into the soft warmth of you hugging his length and perfect grind of his mound against your bud aching to come undone. Seeing him watch you in those last moments before you went over the edge was enough to send you there as you trembled and cried out under his grip. Moaning and reaching to touch him in any way you could, you couldn't get enough of him as your body craved the closeness it needed. Expecting swift punishment for the affection, he surprised you by taking your hand in his, slowing his pace. Lacing your fingers as one, the gentle caress of his thumb to your skin had your rose colored glasses as red as they could be. Watching with a affectionately hazed gaze while he pinned you down, your skin when cold as his words dripped from his lips like sweet poison: 

“You think you're getting away that easy? I'm just gonna cum and that be that? No.. I prepared for this all day. You're not goin’ fucking anywhere.”

[fireflylucibu]

You know, it drives me crazy to know that technically there’s two (at least in terms of prominence cause I think there’s also a TFA one though it doesn’t seem as talked about) canonical Shattered Glass continuities: the one made by FunPub and the IDW reboot.

Cause the thing is, those two comics have vastly different Megatrons and Optimus Primes.

Like we have FunPub Megatron who is a mathematician and Optronix who was a librarian that backstabbed his way to the top.

Then we have the IDW versions where Megatron is a miner/civil activist who keeps getting tossed into jail and Orion Pax who is a senator in this version.

And what fascinates me is that in the FunPub version, Optimus actually lives (though he becomes Nova Prime). Meanwhile, in the IDW version, I think he dies (?) or well his fate is much worse in comparison to FunPub!OP.

Also what’s up with both Megatrons having a fakeout death? FunPub!Megatron does get killed by Cyclonus but he comes back as Galvatron. Meanwhile IDW!Megatron gets defeated by OP and is momentarily thought to be dead (he just went into self-exile).

There’s not actually a lot of difference between the two OPs (cause honestly they both seem insane), though I guess one could interpret FunPub!OP as much more depressing cause the only reason he’s evil is cause he saw life as meaningless unless history remembers you and when he becomes Nova Prime, he’s still a little jerk but he’s tamer so I assume that was his original personality. IDW!OP just wants total power and only initially hides behind a nice facade.

The two Megatrons are vastly different though in my opinion. Cause FunPub!Megatron really was just some guy who predicted civil war and was good enough to want to stop it (this Megatron wasn’t affected by the caste system, he just genuinely saw something wrong was happening and chose to do something about it). IDW!Megatron was someone who was affected by the caste system and was trying his best to bring attention to it. FunPub!Megatron is also very nice (like not overly nice but he’s genuinely such a nice guy and this is why he’s my favorite aside from him being a nerd lmao). IDW!Megatron is a bit more jaded (which is fair cause the caste system is horrible and his “friend” is an asshole).

Even the relationship between OP and Megatron are different in both continuities. I’m pretty sure in FunPub these two never interacted before the war, where OP gets pissed that this random mathematician is opposing him. In IDW, OP and Megatron were “friends” with OP even bailing Megatron out of jail, though their “friendship” was already toxic even before the war cause Megatron seemed to really see through OP’s BS.

All this to say, there should really be a crossover between both continuities.

SGFunPub!Megs and SGIDW!OP meeting would be kinda fun and dangerous, especially if they meet each other before the civil war broke out. Megatron wouldn’t know who OP is while OP would see another version of his Megatron who he could possibly trick. Also this has the added bonus of a hilarious scenario where Megatron predicts OP is the cause of the civil war through math and that pisses off OP cause genuinely tf you mean you computed that through math. This one is more dangerous though as OP genuinely wants power and will not be swayed by whatever Megatron says.

SGIDW!Megs and SGFunPub!OP might honestly end up the happier version ngl. Cause OP clearly has an existential crisis that Megatron can probably fix by convincing him that OP can still be remembered in history by doing the right thing… such as being a civil rights activist. Like… I’m just saying maybe FunPub!OP needs therapy (and unlike IDW!OP, he actually gets a canonical redemption arc so he’s not completely lost).

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Anyway, will I write this? Maybe (I really shouldn’t though cause I have a series and two writing requests to finish lmao). Because I am officially employed now and thus have a fixed schedule unlike the previous weeks where my schedule was erratic (which is not good for my OCD as I need a fixed schedule or I will be very upset sksksksk) as I had nothing to do but read, play video games, and exist lmao