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chahnniesroom · 4 months ago

Text

hoju (home)

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: even though chan has been living in korea for so many years, he still considers australia to be home. when he finally has the opportunity to go back and visit, he can't wait to bring you along and introduce you to the people and places that he grew up with.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: none :)

a/n: hoju (호주) is the korean word for australia.

this was a request from my sweet 🦦 anon! thank you for the inspiration, i had fun writing this and i hope that it meets your expectations. sorry that i did not write this in chan's pov 😅 as usual, please let me know if there are any typos or mistakes because i didn't have the chance to proofread 🥲

read it on ao3 | masterlist

Chan has been acting strange lately. Not enough that you're worried, just a little bit suspicious. He's never tried to hide what tabs he has open on his phone before and he's looked deep in thought quite a few times, but when you ask what he's thinking of, he changes the topic quickly. You're curious, but trust that Chan will talk to you when he's ready. Still, you can't quite ignore all of the changes in behaviour.

It's the same tonight. When you look up during dinner, Chan's just stirring around the noodles in his plate, only taking a bite every so often. You frown, trying to think of if you've done anything differently to prepare the food in a way that he doesn't like, but it tastes the same to you as usual. You rule out a lack of appetite, as he had just commented that he was starving while you were cooking.

“Is everything okay?” you ask hesitantly, after a few more minutes have passed.

“What?” Chan looks up, startled by the sound of your voice. “Oh no, everything's fine! Just… thinking.”

“Is it about work? Did something happen?” You know that Chan has been busier than usual this month, the boys have some time off in a few weeks and everybody is scrambling to get things finished in the meantime. You've also requested vacation at work, although so far you and Chan haven't planned anything. In fact, he's been a little bit cagey when you've brought up the topic. You try not to think much of it and really, it's just nice to be able to spend extra time together.

Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if Chan has found out that his break has been cut short or even cancelled. It's rare that they’re able to have more than a few days off at a time which is why you had been so shocked when Chan had let you know that they didn't have schedules for a period of almost three weeks.

It would provide an explanation to everything that you've observed the past few days, you know that he would try his best to fix things before he had to tell you the bad news.

“Well-”

“It's okay if you found out you can't take time off,” you reassure him. “I understand that it's all up to the company and sometimes they change their mind at the last minute. I can just let my work know and take my vacation another time, I'm sure they might even be happy if I'm still around next month.”

“No!” Chan says, his eyes wide in panic. “We still have time off! Don't worry about that. It's actually- How would you feel about visiting Australia with me?”

It's your turn to stare at Chan in shock.

“Australia?”

“Yeah, it's been a while since I went back and-” Chan breaks eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I thought it'd be nice if I could introduce you to my family, in person.”

“You want me to meet your family? In Australia?” you repeat, dumbly.

“Only if you feel comfortable!” Chan says hurriedly. “I looked into tickets, but didn't book anything yet so it's totally up to you. I also wanted to check if my family was available beforehand and it's pretty good timing actually. If you don't want to, then it's totally fine, I'll probably go for either way and I think Felix is also considering it. It's just that we've been together for a while now and I've met your family and I know that my mom basically considers you to be her daughter-”

“I want to go,” you interrupt, not wanting Chan to spiral further. “I was just surprised, I guess, but of course I want to accompany you.”

Chan brightens at that, then grabs his computer, unlocking it and opening up a spreadsheet. As it loads, he reaches for his chopsticks and takes a huge bite of food. You can't help but smile fondly at the sight of his cheeks bulging with food as he chews, relieved that his appetite is back.

“I didn’t want to get too far ahead of myself, but I was looking at flights, and I think that if we leave on a Tuesday, it might be best. It means we can enjoy the weekend here and still have time to pack everything,” he explains excitedly. “It'll be less busy at the airport too, which will be nice, and it works out well with my parents’ schedules anyway.”

You hum in acknowledgement, content to follow along and take mental notes as Chan reads out everything else that he's thought of so far. He continues planning for the rest of the evening, trailing behind you as you clean up and do your nightly routine, only stopping to help you when you do the dishes and put away the laundry. It's cute how animated he becomes, putting together a long list of all the sites and restaurants that he wants to show you.

You can tell that he's still thinking of it as the two of you curl up in bed that night, every so often you feel him jolt behind you and turn to reach for the little pad of paper and pencil that he often keeps on his nightstand.

Eventually, you turn over and squint at him. He doesn't even pretend to be asleep.

“Hi,” he whispers. “Sorry if I'm keeping you awake.”

“Sleep,” you murmur tiredly. “We have lots of time to plan, get some rest for now and we can talk more tomorrow.”

Chan starts to protest, but you just nuzzle closer, pulling his hands to wrap around you. As you drift off to sleep, you can feel that Chan has finally relaxed too.

—

The two of you spend the first day of break slowly, sleeping in and having a lazy meal of bibimbap from all the banchan taking up space in your fridge. You only venture out of the apartment for dinner, going to your favourite local restaurant that you visit so often that the owner starts making your meals the second that the two of you step through the door. The next couple of days are also easygoing, consisting of shopping, watching dramas, and eventually preparing for your trip.

Throughout the drive to the airport and making your way through security and to your gate, you can tell Chan's a bit on edge even though you and Felix try to assure him that everything will be fine. The three of you are in incognito mode, wearing hats, face masks, and plain clothes but Chan’s still scanning your surroundings the whole time. You, on the other hand, can't help but be excited, bouncing at his side so much that he loops his arm over your shoulders to try and calm you down. Felix is more relaxed and laughs at the stark contrast between the both of you, even filming parts of it since he’s getting footage for a vlog. Luckily you know that any content with you in it is likely to be edited out and don’t bother to hide your eagerness.

While Chan is used to travelling often for concerts and other overseas schedules, you've rarely visited places outside of Korea and have certainly never flown business class. You squeeze Chan's hand when you see your seats, thrilled at the idea of having so much leg room and a divider between the two of you that can also be fully lowered. It keeps you entertained for the whole time before the plane takes off, taking pictures together and reclining your seat up and down until the seatbelt sign turns on.

The flight is over 10 hours, so it doesn't take long before you move your attention to browsing the menu that's available and scrolling through all of the movies on the in-flight entertainment system. Shortly after the dinner meal is served, you start to doze off. Wanting to make the most of the experience, you insist to Chan that you'll be able to stay awake to watch another movie with him, but only make it through the first 30 minutes before you wake up to a dark screen.

You blink up blearily as a flight attendant starts making their way through the aisles, handing out customs forms for everyone to fill out. When you receive yours, you stare at it for a few seconds before realising the problem is not the fact that you're still adjusting to being awake.

“Oh no,” you whisper in horror, causing Chan to glance over at you, concerned.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I didn’t think about practising English before this trip,” you reply, distress leaking into your voice. “The last time that I wrote anything in English was when I was in secondary school… I'm not going to survive in Australia!”

“Hey, it's not an issue, I'll be with you the whole time! You don't have to worry about any of that. And you know enough conversational English to get by, I know you do,” Chan says soothingly.

You refuse to be comforted, burying your face into your hands.

“How am I going to face your parents when I barely know anything other than ‘hi, how are you?’” you moan. “I'm not even going to make it through customs! They're going to arrest me when I can't answer any of their questions!”

You know that you're exaggerating, but it makes Chan laugh so hard that tears gather in the corners of his eyes. You try to keep up your act, but end up dissolving into laughter too at the way that Chan is trying so hard to stay quiet, not wanting to bring attention to you two.

Contrary to your fears, you manage to deplane, get through customs, and collect your luggage without any major issues. You had a moment of anxiety when Chan and Felix split up from you since you have to go into the lineup for foreign passports, but you are somehow able to fumble your way through the conversation with the border officer without being detained.

Felix splits up with you shortly after, you see that his tiredness from the long flight melts away the second that he sees his family. He gives you and Chan both a quick hug to say goodbye before running out to meet them.

Chan lights up in a similar way when he finally spots his parents. They're waiting in the pick-up zone and waves the two of you over quickly. You barely get the chance to say hi before Chan’s mother is enveloping you into a hug.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says warmly. “Come on, let’s take you home.”

The drive is fairly short and it feels like no time at all before you’re approaching the house. The second that the front door opens, you hear a distinctive scrabble of claws against hardwood before Berry shoots towards Chan, tail wagging furiously. Chan immediately kneels down to give her better access, laughing when she stands on her hind legs to lick at his face.

Once she’s finished with that, she turns to you, barking curiously before moving closer. You stick out a hand for her to get an idea of your scent and try not to jump when you feel the cool, damp press of her nose against your palm. Whatever Berry smells, she approves of, giving you a few quick licks before running back to Chan.

“She’s so cute!” you exclaim, pulling out your phone so that you can take a picture of the reunion. You don't think that Chan even hears you, caught up in talking to Berry, giving her kisses and allowing her to do the same.

“I'll help you with your bags,” Chan's father says from beside you, easily lifting them out of your hands and motioning for you to enter the house. You exchange greetings with both of Chan's siblings as you remove your shoes, familiar with them through video calls and the one time that you met Hannah when she was travelling in Korea.

Chan’s family recently moved so this was also Chan’s first time seeing the house in person, the two of you trailing behind Chan’s father as he gave you a brief tour of the first floor before leading you upstairs. When you get to the guest room that you'll be staying in, Hannah pops her head in.

“Chris doesn’t spend enough time in Australia to have his own room in this house, so you guys are in this room.” She eyes you for a moment and based on the mischievous smile that’s growing, you can guess what she’s about to say. “Y/n, if you get sick of him, then feel free to stay with me instead!”

“Hey!” Chan complains, not even looking up from where he’s unpacking his bag. He grabs onto one of his shirts and chucks it at Hannah, but she easily dodges, throwing one of her slippers at him in retaliation. It hits Chan right in the chest and he looks at her in disbelief. He abandons his task in favour of chasing her throughout the house. You don't follow after, but you hear as their yelling and laughter echoes through the halls.

It’s refreshing to see Chan at home, no matter how comfortable Chan is with the rest of the kids, he’s still the leader of the group and the oldest member and the dynamic of their relationship reflects that. Even though it has barely been a few hours, you’re relieved to find that Chan has left behind the stresses of being an idol and can instead just be a son and an older brother.

His parents are hilarious and kind, it’s easy to see how Chan’s personality is a reflection of the environment that he was raised in. During dinner, you laugh at the way Chan pouts dramatically when Chan’s father pretends to forget about Chan when serving the food and how he groans in pleasure when he finally gets to taste his mother's cooking after so long. Hannah and Lucas continually crack jokes as you eat, especially if they're at Chan's expense and he pretends that he doesn't find them funny.

—

One afternoon you find Chan fiddling with the camera that he’s brought with him. You step up behind him, resting your chin on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Are you planning on filming tonight?” you ask, knowing that Chan was always careful to alert everyone in the house beforehand.

“Not today,” he replies. “Probably tomorrow, when I take out Berry for her morning walk. Did you want to join?”

“Of course!”

“I was thinking of going right after breakfast, before it gets too hot out,” he says as he pulls out the camera battery and fits it into the charger.

“Anywhere in particular you wanted to go?”

“Mmm, maybe by the water? There's a path that's not too far away. I don't want anything that's too close to the house, you know?”

“Good idea.”

“Are you planning on putting it into a vlog?” you ask curiously. "You haven't been filming much.”

"Actually…”

“What? You're making me nervous.”

“I was hoping to use it for a music video,” Chan says sheepishly.

“What?! I'm not qualified for that!! I can't- you need to find someone else-”

“No no, it's going to be fine! It's for a record, not like, an actual music video.”

“I don't know,” you say, still feeling hesitant.

“I promise, I'm going for the casual vibes and it's either you or like, my eomma, and I guarantee that you would do a better job.”

“Okay,” you say reluctantly. “But I can't guarantee it'll come out well.”

“Thank you! I know it'll be great,” Chan says, showering you with kisses in gratitude until you're squirming away.

—

The next morning, Chan’s parents are out, leaving all the kids to prepare food on their own. It's a little chaotic, but you manage to cobble together a decent meal. It's a lot of fun to see how Chan and his siblings interact without their parents around to mediate. You're amazed by how similar the three are, not only in appearance but also the way they behave.

Although much younger, Lucas shares a strong resemblance to Chan, especially once he smiles and shows off matching dimples. They quickly disappear once Chan reaches out and musses up his hair playfully as you’re all cleaning up.

“Chris, stop it,” he complains, pushing his older brother away before trying to fix the strands that are all over the place. It only encourages Chan to move closer, wrapping his arms around his brother and lifting him into the air. When trying to wiggle free doesn’t work, he turns pleading eyes to you, knowing Hannah wouldn't step in to help. “Noona! Get him to let me down!”

The two of you had been awkward the first time you had been left alone, it hadn’t helped that Lucas’ Korean could be considered conversational at best and your English was significantly worse, but you had quickly grown close through attempts to tease Chan. Now, it’s easy to treat him like the little brother you never had.

You approach quickly, trying to avoid Lucas’ flailing limbs, and reach out to poke at Chan’s waist. He twitches away from your touch and when you persist in prodding at all his ticklish spots, unwinds one of his arms to swat at your hand.

The distraction is enough for Lucas to break away and he quickly moves out of reach. Instead of chasing after him, Chan turns his focus to you. You back away nervously, but find yourself with nowhere to go. Chan grabs you and easily slings you over your shoulder, ignoring your shrieks of protest.

“Betrayed by my own girlfriend? I should have known that introducing you to my siblings would just be asking for trouble,” he growls in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Hey! Where are you taking me?” You look to see if his siblings are going to rescue you, but they must be trying to avoid Chan's wrath as you don't see either of them as Chan brings you up to the guest room.

“I am enlisting your help,” he says casually, as if he wasn't carrying you up a flight of stairs and dropping you on the bed. “I would like your advice on what to wear for Berry's walk.”

“Ooh,” you say. “Very important business then, I'm honoured that you would ask me.”

It doesn't actually take much time to get ready, the two of you change into clothes for the heat and you just have to convince Chan that he doesn't have to try to do his hair or makeup. The second that you mention to Berry that you're going for a walk, her tail starts wagging non-stop and she even fetches her leash and drops it in front of you.

Chan doesn't give you much direction for filming, just hands you the camera and tells you to capture whatever you want. The two of you walk hand in hand through the neighbourhood, Berry happily exploring the area. As you get further away from the house, you let go of Chan, motioning for him to continue walking as you turn on the camera and get used to it.

By the time you've reached the waterfront, you're feeling more confident and have a better idea of what you like. You try out different angles, feeling a little bit like paparazzi, and after a few minutes, even try directing Chan too. You let him keep going, wanting to see how far away he'll go before he realises that you're not following. He's almost a block away before he turns back.

“You’re smiling, did it come out okay?” Chan asks as he jogs back towards you.

“Yeah, it was great! I was just thinking that Stay are going to go crazy over this,” you tell him.

“They do really like it whenever they get to see Berry,” he says thoughtfully, picking her up and scratching her head. You burst out laughing at that and Chan frowns in response and goes as far as to cover Berry’s ears, insulted on her behalf. “What? Don’t laugh at that, it’s true! Berry is just so cute.”

“I’m not saying that they don’t like Berry, of course they do. I was more referring to the fact that the video is… domestic. Very boyfriend.”

“Ooh you think that's what Stay are interested in?” he asks. “What about this?”

He gestures for you to lift up the camera, and once you're recording, grabs your hand to pull you along behind him. You let out a small noise of surprise as he tugs on your arm, struggling slightly to keep everything steady and ensure your hand is out of frame. At your sound, Chan looks back slightly and bursts into laughter.

“So concentrated, you’re so cute,” he giggles.

“Of course,” you grumble. “I want it to turn out nice.”

“Thank you,” Chan says sincerely, no traces of laughter in his voice. “I really do appreciate it a lot that you're helping me with work even though we're on vacation.”

“Hmm,” you say, turning away from him. “You're just glad that you didn't have to ask Hannah, because she would make fun of you the whole time.”

“That's not true! I mean, it is true that Hannah would do that, but that's not the only reason.” Chan uses your connected hands and pulls you close. “I also wanted to spend time with my favourite person in the whole world.”

“You're lucky I love you so much,” you sniff, still pretending to be annoyed even though you've practically melted into Chan's hug. “Now stop getting distracted, I thought it would look nice if you walked along the sand and there's nobody there right now.”

—

The rest of your time in Sydney is a whirlwind of activities. Chan is determined to take you to all his favourite places in the city and you eat more food than you thought possible. Chan’s family, and sometimes Felix and his family, accompanies you two for a majority of the outings and your initial hesitance interacting with them is replaced by fondness, eased by the way that they treat you like one of their own.

You even have a chance to meet some of Chan’s childhood friends, ones that he kept close with despite the long distance. It feels strange to eat dinner with them. Although they do their best to make you feel welcome, they have a lot of history together and you find yourself struggling to keep up with their conversation, not just because of the language barrier but due to references to people, places, and events that you're unfamiliar with. Regardless, you're glad to finally know the people that Chan grew up with and you love seeing how happy Chan is to be reunited with them.

It’s also nice that while you're meeting so many people, you don't have to hide your relationship at all. In Korea, you and Chan are more careful in public. It’s not totally a secret that you’re dating, but you are more on the cautious side due to the popularity of Stray Kids and inevitable scrutiny from fans. In Australia, Chan has no such reservations, excitedly introducing you as his girlfriend to everyone. It never fails to make you blush, feeling shy, but secretly pleased.

Wherever you go, Chan keeps you close to his side, linking your hands or looping an arm around your shoulders. Throughout the day, he presses kisses to your head or cheek. The first time he does it, you look up at him questioningly. He just shrugs, saying that he’s happy and well, you can’t argue with that.

You don’t want your vacation to end and you know you're not the only one. You and Chan have both procrastinated packing your luggage until the last possible moment, and when you finally do begin, Berry seems to sense it. She starts hiding all of your things- Chan's family members finding them lodged in one of the couch cushions or in her dog bed- and curling up inside your suitcase, making it practically impossible to continue packing.

When Chan enters your shared room and pauses when he sees you staring into the suitcase helplessly. You wave him over so that he can look inside.

“She’s too cute! Look at that little face, how could you disturb her?” you ask.

Chan has no such reservations. He reaches in and gently lifts Berry out, cradling her against his chest so that she can’t jump back in.

“Berry, do you want to come to Korea with us?” he asks patiently. When she licks at his face in reply, he groans and pretends to lower her back into the suitcase. “Ah, I guess we have no choice but to bring you! I think we can sneak you in with the rest of the souvenirs that we’re taking with us.”

Despite Chan’s promises, Berry ends up staying behind, not even joining you on the drive to the airport. You’re lucky that you decide to leave well before your flight is expected to depart as you end up taking almost half an hour saying goodbye to everybody.

You know that you’re going to treasure these memories for a long time and you’re certain that Chan will too. It’s amazing that even though you were only in Australia for a couple weeks, it already feels like a second home.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

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peachesofteal · 5 months ago

Note

Dr Riley coming back and cursing when he realizes Clover’s gone

Part One / Part Two - very rare Simon POV - warnings: discussion of PTSD

"What's going on?"

"Nothing ah, I have to run." He turns apologetically to woman he brought out tonight, the one who got all dolled up for him, clearly, only for it to let her down in the end. "Johnny, take care o' my tab, yeah?" He glances at the blonde as well, and Johnny nods.

"C'mere bonnie." He tugs her close, but she pouts.

"What's the big hurry."

"I have an emergency. With a patient. 'm sorry, it happens sometimes." He grits his teeth. This is taking too long.

His mind strays to you again. The sight of you, wild, eyes wide and glassy, barely able to stand up.

This is something you haven't disclosed to him. The drinking. The excessive use of alcohol.

"I'm just here for the alcohol, ya know."

He's seen too many go down this road. He's seen too many try to distract themselves with booze, or pills, or other things.

None of them every work. They're a poorly placed band-aid on a wound bleeding out.

He refuses to spend a single second ruminating on your lips. You were very intoxicated. You're traumatized. You're in trouble, drowning in hopelessness, desperation, anxiety, guilt. It's too easy for you to be confused in a situation like this. Any situation, at this point. He doesn't hold it against you.

He knows this means he should find you another provider. Seek out another therapist who has extensive experience with PTSD and transfer your care-

but he also knows, without a doubt, he won't.

His hands still burns where he touched you, and he shouldn't have touched you. He shouldn't have followed you out the door, he shouldn't have felt compelled to make sure you were okay.

The feeling you of you balancing between his grasp tugged a previous session forward in his mind, one where he crossed the touching boundary, in his own office.

"Clover, listen to me. You're having a flashback. You've already survived, you're okay. Can you open your eyes?" Your breathing stutters, raw, short gasps that make your body shake, and he grimaces. Slumped over on yourself, spine curled forward, diaphragm crushed. It's contributing to your lack of oxygen, which is forcing you further and further away in your mind. "Okay, here we go." His hands fold over your shoulders, straightening your back, guiding you back against the couch. It helps, you breathe easier. "Open your eyes, Clover. You're alright."

"I'm sorry, really am. Good to see you again." He gives Johnny another nod, and heads for the door.

It swings wide, cold air nipping at his face. He prepares to find you leaning against the wall, maybe vomiting, or even sitting, but panic creeps through him when he realizes you're not here.

You're gone.

"Fuck!" He hisses, running out to where the alley dumps into the street. You're nowhere to be found. Not to the left, not across, not to the right. Maybe you really did have an uber? "Bloody fuckin' hell." He left his overly intoxicated patient outside, alone, and you disappeared. He chose to make contact with you, chose to follow you outside to check on you, assumed responsibility from that moment.

And then what did he do?

He lost you.

#peaches writes #simon riley x reader

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reidmotif · 1 year ago

Text

Always Bet on Black

Summary: Reader realizes she has an advantage at the Bureau's Casino Night, when Spencer can't seem to take his eyes off her and her dress.

Prompt: The BAU throws a casino night charity fundraiser. Spencer is a menace. Someone has to find a way to distract him.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: drinking, gambling (i have never gambled in my life nor have i played poker or blackjack. this will be super apparent in this fic. many apologies), nipple play, oral sex (f!receiving) hickies, Reader POV, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist

“And that’s another win to the gentleman on my right!” The dealer announces for what feels like the millionth time that night. There's a shit-eating grin on Spencer Reid’s face as he leans over the blackjack table, wrapping his arms around the hearty stack of chips in an almost in an exaggerated manner, pulling it back towards him much to everyone’s dismay.

My dismay, especially, because while- yes, this is for charity, and what Spencer’s doing could be characterized as noble in some roundabout way, it was getting a bit repetitive. Spencer was so focused, a thousand times more than anyone else at that table, his brain working a million miles a minute to provide him with the best course of action when it came to gambling.

And so far? It worked perfectly. While everyone else was taking their chances and betting away, praying that the odds would line up in their favor, Spencer Reid did fucking math, and suddenly the odds were his bitch. I was beginning to understand why every casino in Las Vegas had him banned now. If he was giving the BAU Casino Night a run for their money like this, I can’t imagine the Bellagio being too pleased with having him either.

I sighed at the thought, and it seemed Spencer picked up on it, the corners of his lips turning upwards, trying to feign a chagrin expression as he stacked his chips on top of the other.

“Something wrong, (Y/N)?” He says, looking at me. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”

Spencer Reid is usually nice, humble, and sweet. In all honesty, I should not be feeling this hostile and sore at the fact that he’d managed to beat me almost every single time we’d played blackjack. My embarrassment was only heightened when I thought of how I’d (stupidly) bragged beforehand that I’d never lost a game in college.

How quickly my streak was destroyed.

My pride was bruised, and the man in front of me knew it.

“I’m enjoying myself just fine.” I say, trying not to grit my teeth as I say the words.

“You look a bit hot.” He says, referring to my face that had gotten slightly red after the most recent loss I’d taken. “Would you like me to get you a drink?” He asks, his gaze turning less cocky, and more sweet and polite.

I melt a bit. “Okay. No need to be a sore loser.” I think to myself. “This is a sweet man, and he’s offering you a drink. Yes, he’s destroying you right now and knows it, but it’s not like he’s acting like a complete dick about it.”

I nod at his words, sending a small smile his way.

“A drink would be great actually.” I finally respond, and he gets up, pushing his chair in.

“I’ll be right back.” He says, turning away from me, and sauntering towards the bar.

I take a second to admire him as he walks away, the suit and tie ensemble he picked out for the night complimenting him so well. I’d never say it out loud, considering we were coworkers, but something about seeing him so dapper, so much more.. mature brought out a warm feeling in my stomach, one that made me shift in my seat as I tried to rid myself of thoughts of grabbing him by his tie, placing a hand on his perfectly sculpted jawline, pulling him against me and- no!

He. Is. Your. Colleague. Snap out of it!

In lieu of my wandering thoughts, I’d realized I had actually heated up quite a few degrees and in an attempt to combat the sudden body heat, I shrugged off the shawl I’d been donning for most of the night. I felt the cool air hit my exposed shoulders and chest, and relaxed a bit, starting to feel my temperature lower. Right as I did so, Spencer returned to his seat, holding two drinks.

I turn towards him, still seated. He’s sitting in his seat, facing towards me as well, and I instinctively reach over to grab the drink in his hand, expecting him to meet me halfway and transfer the cup to me. But instead of the expected interaction, he seems a bit dazed, an intense expression on his face as he bored his eyes into me, studying me almost. It’s an expression that causes me to raise my eyebrows at him.

“Spencer?” I say. “Hello?” I wave my hand a bit, trying to break him from his trance. “The drinks?” I add, and that’s what seems to break him out of his preoccupied stupor. He blinks a bit before shaking his head.

“Sorry. Sorry. I spaced out there for a moment.” He says, hastily handing me my glass and turning away completely from me, taking a sip out of his. I can notice a small tremor in his hand as he sets down the liquid on the table, and I’m a bit concerned. He was just fine a moment ago. Did someone say something whilst he was at the bar? Did he choose to ponder some life-changing information as he took his seat at the table? Was he losing it for no reason at all?

Regardless of what it was, I didn’t have the time to contemplate it further or question him about it because the dealer was beginning to shuffle the deck of cards again.

As the next game started, there was something fundamentally different about Spencer. He looked almost panicked, even going as far as to loosen his tie as he played. I thought I’d maybe imagined the changes, until finally, I got a real indicator that something was off. For the first time that whole night- he lost.

My mouth was agape as the dealer announced the house win, and as I looked between him and the table, he didn’t seem all that fazed, simply shrugging as he attempted to get up. Before he could slip away, I grabbed his arm and brought him a bit closer to me, so that I could speak to him over the sounds of the bustling party around us.

“Spencer- wait. Is something wrong?” I ask, the genuine concern in my tone apparent to anyone who might’ve walked by.

“Yeah, no. Um. Why wouldn’t it be?” He says, his eyes everywhere except me. It was almost comical. The ceiling tiles couldn’t be that interesting.

I grip his arm a little harder, urging him to look at me, to talk to me. “You lost! That hasn’t happened all night! Was someone- did something happen? Are you feeling okay?” I ask, my eyes trying to meet his.

He gulps, finally looking at me. “Statistically, card counting can’t actually work every time so I was bound to lose at some point right?” He says, a little shakily, and despite his words making logical sense, the notion that something was wrong didn’t leave me.

“You promise?” I say, looking at him as intensely as I possibly could to ensure he wouldn’t try to evade giving me an honest answer.

He gives his signature, flat smile, nodding. “I’ll be fine. Look. I’m gonna go play some other games. Maybe rack up my luck somewhere else.”

I lick my lips and finally let go of his arm, nodding. “Have fun.” I say, and he gives me a little wave.

“You too.”

For the next hour or so, I found myself dabbling at the other assortment of games offered by the Bureau that night, until yet again, my path crossed with Spencer, who seemed to be on a pretty hefty winning streak- if the stack of chips he’d accumulated wasn’t a clear sign of that already.

I stood by the table, slightly out of his view, a little amazed by the way his eyes followed the deck and everyone’s movements so precisely. The level of focus required to do what he was was absolutely no joke, and I couldn’t help but admire in silent awe at the exactness of the whole process. It only made him that much more attractive in that moment, if that was even possible.

“Royal flush.” He announces, fanning his cards as everyone at the table groans. It’s only then when his gaze meets mine, watching him, and I can observe the signs of a tell-tale blush creeping up his neck. Odd.

“(Y/N)! Hello.” He says, quickly. “Still liking the party?”

“I am, thank you.” I say, my eyebrows slightly furrowing at how oddly he’s behaving. “Mind if I join the next round?” I ask, already starting to take my seat.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” He says, clearing his throat and turning his entire body away from me. Spencer and I usually got along just fine. There was nothing ever particularly sour about our relationship, and I’d like to think that in the time I’d spent at the Bureau, our shared experiences had brought us closer. However, the way he was acting as of right now, like we were strangers or mere acquaintances threw me off beyond belief.

It was official, something was off.

I leaned over a little closer, trying to get him to look at me.

“Spencer, I know I’ve already asked but is anything-“ I start, and I can see him glance over, and then almost rapidly turn his gaze away.

“No! Nothing’s wrong. Let’s play.” He rushes out, his words teetering on almost being high pitched.

It didn’t evade me however, in that short microsecond he took to look at me, his gaze dropped partially down. I internally followed his line of sight to realize that my breasts were practically spilling from my dress. I knew that it was a bit showy, but didn’t think much of it when I’d chosen to wear it for this occasion. The event was black-tie, and so I’d fished out a number I’d haphazardly bought during an online shopping spree. It was black and sparkly, but the main caveat of the dress was the gorgeous bodice in the front, managing to give a good show of cleavage whilst pushing up my breasts and making them all that more appealing to anyone who noticed. I began to connect the events of the night, realizing that someone clearly had noticed.

Spencer’s losing streak had coincidentally begun once I’d lost the shawl that was once covering my chest.

An idea slowly entered my head. An experiment, if you will. As we started another game, I barely paid attention as my fingers slid over to what looked like a glass of water on Spencer’s side.

“Spence?” I murmur, tapping his shoulder.

“Mm?” He asks, not even taking a moment to look away from his cards.

“Mind if I take a sip from your water?” I ask, keeping my voice saccharine and innocent.

I can see the look he shoots me, his eyes slightly narrowed in surprise but he quickly looks away. “Yeah, um. Sure. Go ahead.” He responds dismissively, as if talking to me for even a second longer would result in him breaking out in hives.

Totally out of character. For all the closeness in the world, Spencer Reid would never have shared a glass of water.

As I began to sip the water, I did something that could be categorized as deeply stupid, but in the name of my experiment, it was absolutely necessary. I slightly tipped the glass, allowing the cool water to run down my neck and drip onto the swell of my breasts. I made a show of getting up, touching my chest to try and rid myself of the moisture that was now coating my breasts.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’ll get you another glass of water.” I say,letting my breasts bounce a bit as I stand up, and when he looks at me, it’s more apparent than ever that his eyes aren’t gracing mine anytime soon. Not when I was like this.

I grinned in secret as I turned around, quickly bringing over a replacement glass to him, leaning over so that if he were to simply turn his head even slightly to his left, he’d get a direct look at what he simply couldn’t seem to take his eyes or mind off tonight.

“Uh. Thanks.” He stammers again, shakily drinking the water as he miserably failed at not looking. Bingo.

When the next round of our game commenced, he lost horrifically, as expected. His mind was in an entirely different dimension, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride, knowing it was me who’d rendered him dumb. So unfocused. So unlike himself. It wasn’t until I felt a tap on my shoulder, noticing Spencer’s hand carrying out the action.

“Walk with me.” He says, simply. His tone was so sharp and commanding, I found myself listening with no hesitation, following as we moved to a more secluded bit of the party.

“What are you doing?” He asks in an accusatory tone, his voice a hushed whisper.

“What do you mean?” I respond, a faux naivete in my words, which he only scoffed at. He leaned in closer, his brows furrowed. I could notice a small vein popping out from his forehead, and the sight only increased the ache I’d begun to feel in my panties since he’d directed me here.

“You know what I mean.” He says, dangerously. “You’re flaunting yourself.” He adds, his jaw tight. “You know what it’s doing to me. You’re enjoying it.” I could tell he wanted to say so much more, the grit in his tone leading me to believe there were some much cruder words he wished to utter to me.

Regardless, the authority in his tone only spurred me to try and resist. It was so hot watching him like this. Maybe a bit fucked up to say that, but it didn’t matter in that moment. I only wanted to test the limits. To see the new man I could bring out in Spencer Reid tonight.

“So what if I am?” I say, biting my lip. “It’s a party, Spencer. We’re all having fun, aren’t we?”

“No.” He responds, darkly. “I’m not having fun.”

A proposal came to mind. One I knew that would pan out deliciously, since I’d now gotten a look into his extensive lust tonight, and just how desperate he seemed. I leaned forward to whisper to him, my lips teasing the outer shell of his ear.

“Win another game, and I’ll show you just how much fun you could be having.”

He immediately pulls back. His eyes narrow, and I can see the weight of my words course through his mind, evaluating the odds of my statement before clicking his tongue.

“See you in 30 minutes.” is his response, as he walks away, beckoning me to follow him to yet another Blackjack table. I grin, sitting beside him.

My presence doesn’t seem to phase Spencer whatsoever this time around, his laser-point focus uninterrupted even as I stared shamelessly at him. It wasn't until the game seemed to be reaching its turning point, in which Spencer had to decide whether drawing or staying would bring forth a better outcome for him. I watched as he mulled over the decision for a few seconds before his eyes locked onto mine, gaze intense.

“Draw.” He voices, not even paying mind as the dealer announced his win.

Spencer gets up without a word, and I can see him head towards a hallway that houses a few restrooms in the building.

“Sir- your winnings!” The dealer calls out, but I smile apologetically, starting to follow Spencer to a more secluded area of the party.

“Sorry. He’s probably a bit preoccupied. I’ll let him know!” I respond, already turning around and making my way to the same hallway Spencer had gone down, finding the bathroom and opening it. I knew Spencer would be there, but what I didn’t expect was to be pulled into his arms, greeted by Spencer’s lips insistently pressing against mine, his free hand clutching the back of my head, as his other hand went to click the lock into place. I responded with a momentary bout of shock, but quickly found myself melting into his touch, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“You like watching me lose, is that it?” He whispers harshly, in between kisses. I can feel the anger, the lust and passion, all rolling into one as his lips meet mine, over and over again, creating the sweetest of sensations that wracked my whole body.

“Mm. Not just you losing. You losing because you’re distracted. Because of me.” I say, my tone a bit dazed and breathy from the intensity he was putting me through.

“Can you blame me?” He murmurs, his lips now trailing down my neck, paying close mind to a particular spot on the side that left my knees weak. “You wear this dress and expect me to not take my eyes off of you?”

His hot breath grazes over my skin and I can feel myself shiver. I’m completely overwhelmed by him. The feel of his hands caressing the small of my back and waist, his smell of his cologne wafting around me. I can only breathe unsteadily, and hold onto him, a needy whimper slipping past my lips.

“Shh. You’re okay. I got you.” He murmurs. His tone was sweet, soothing, but his actions were anything but, as his fingers slipped around to find the zipper on my dress.

In an instant, his mouth was finally all over my breasts, his mouth leaving a few marks on the expanse of my chest before his tongue began to sweep over my nipples, swirling around the raised bud, leaving me grappling to his shoulders, as more moans poured out from within me.

“You like that?” He breathes against my skin, and I nod, frantically. I’d never expected to go this weak, but he was so much more skilled with his mouth than I’d ever expected.

“Please. Keep going.” I moan, and I can feel his hands on my thighs, urging me into his arms. I comply, and can feel myself be lifted to the bathroom counter, his hands squeezing the fat of my hips before dropping to his knees. His fingers looped around my underwear, and I attempted to move in a way that would aid him in their removal. As soon as they were off, he stuffed them into his pocket, and moved to lift my dress up, his face disappearing into my now spread legs.

And suddenly he was everywhere, tongue swiping over my clit in rapid motions, flicking against me in a way that had me immediately squeezing my thighs around his face, to which Spencer responded by pushing them apart, leaving me shaking.

“Oh god, Spencer. Oh-” I moan, over and over again, my hand gripping onto the strands of his hair. My eyes squeeze shut as I feel my orgasm rapidly approaching, my legs trembling more than ever.

“Spencer- I’m gonna-” I groan out, my grip tightening, and I look down, watching him devour me with so much precision and focus, the same I’d seen during his playing all night. I watched as his eyes met mine, his lips sucking around my clit and in a fit of moans, I found myself releasing all over his tongue, my body shuddering as he worked me through my orgasm, moaning against my core.

He rose from his knees and planted a long, deep kiss on my lips, and I moaned as I tasted myself on him. My hands started to go for his belt, desperate to feel this man inside me. As soon as his cock was freed from the confines of his briefs, I guided him towards my entrance, gasping as I felt him push into me, immediately filling me up. I breathed in sharply from the pleasure of the sensation, my eyes screwing shut before opening them to see his eyes staring back at me. He gave me a moment to adjust, watching my face for any sign of discomfort, but there was none, only the carnal desperation I felt for this man. I nodded to let him know I was ready, and suddenly, like a man possessed, he began to jut his hips towards mine, causing me to whimper and dig my nails into his back.

He moaned as he slammed into me, over and over again, while his mouth kissed at my neck, at my jaw, my lips, murmuring my praises over and over again.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He groans, my hips firmly gripped by his large hands, keeping me from slipping off the counter. “And that dress. Fuck. God, I want you.”

I nod, too overwhelmed with pleasure to even speak, rather opting to moan his name and nod furiously.

He kept one hand on my hip, while the other trailed down to where we were joined, and began to rub fast, hard circles over my already sensitive bud, the action causing me to gasp out and open my eyes, letting him know that my second release of the night was inevitable.

“You wanna cum, pretty girl?” He mumbles, keeping his voice low and his fingers diligent on my clit.

“Please,” I sob out, my voice breaking with just how much I needed this right now. How much I needed him.

“Come for me.” He murmurs, and as if under a spell, I do, coming undone rapidly in his grasp, my head falling against his shoulder as he continues the movement of his hips until I feel him still, and then spill into me, his breath heavy and chest heaving.

I pull back, my forehead meeting his as he stares at me in a bit of a trance, our breaths mingling as we both came down from what had just happened.

“I think.. you should probably cover up.. after that.” He murmurs, grinning a bit at the wide array of marks he’d just left on my neck and chest, undeniably exposing us.

“Right you are.” I giggle back, leaning in for another kiss. This time sweeter, softer.

I was definitely wearing this dress again for him.

hello!! oh my god!! it has been so long since i've posted a fic. finals are over! i am free! i promise we will be back to a more normal schedule now (can i do weekly fics? who knows. i'll try). as usual, thank you for any and all reblogs, likes and comments. it's been a long time since i've even thought about writing, so i hope this is up to everyone's standards. this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins office party challenge. so, you know. look at the other fics there too! sorry for clearly not knowing anything about card games. also also, just a fun fact. i envisioned readers dress being meredith grey's prom dress from s2ep27.. hehe. okay, i've already talked enough. thank you thank you thank you for reading and supporting!!!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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urhoneycombwitch · 8 months ago

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my baby puts his mouth on me

foreword: okay this is kind of written as a bonus scene for i know what they call you bc that version of reader deals with being quiet, too! (not necessary to read that one first but does provide a bit of context as far as interpersonal setting.) sort-of AU that ignores most s4 events.

cw: discussions of college, shy!reader, oral + fingering (R receiving), R has breasts and a V, weed usage, softdom!Eddie, shifting POV a bit soz

wc: 2.2k

___

Somewhere between Eddie’s late nights at band rehearsal and your early morning diner shifts, you’ve both been too exhausted to properly fuck when you do see each other, barely time for a spare handjob in the past week. You’re crawling out of your skin by the weekend, missing and craving Eddie in equal measure.

So when your Saturday off happens to line up with his, Eddie makes an afternoon of it- picnic lunch on the shore of Lover’s Lake, lazing around in the August sun while your food settles, then stripping down to your underclothes (even though the spot Eddie scored was totally isolated, you’re still leery about skinny dipping) and cooling off with a quick dip in the lake.

You’re both sprawled out in the blanketed back of Eddie’s van, sun-warmed bodies pressed together, legs dangling out of the open rear door; smoke hangs hazy in the air from the joint being shared.

“Almost end of summer,” Eddie says, nestling his nose into your neck, arms wrapping around your middle. He can’t look at you, dread unfurling in his stomach but needing to ask, to clear the air, to prepare in case this is one of the last times he gets to touch you like this- “Thinkin’ of going to any colleges?”

”Maybe.” One of your hands slides into Eddie’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp while the other lifts the joint to your lips for a long drag. “They love me at the diner and I make good tips, so I’ll prob’ly keep doing that. Can’t afford anything fancy, anyways- I’ll likely just go to Hawkins Community.”

You still haven’t told him the full story of the mall fire, yet- or about the underground world simmering beneath the surface. He never pushes you to share more than you’re comfortable, which you’re grateful for, but he knows something happened: something that paints your sleep with dark night terrors, something that causes you to slip in the middle of conversations, mind spiraling where he can’t follow.

For reasons you can’t fully explain to Eddie, college is real low on your priority list- you’ve dedicated this summer to reconnecting with base instincts (weed and Pretty Boy being at the top of the list).

Meanwhile, Eddie tries to still the vibrant thrum of his heart at the news of you staying local, possibly for the next few years; he lifts his head to press his lips against your collarbone. “You should go to college. Jus’ try it out, at least. You’re certainly smart enough.”

“Mmm-” you hum around the joint, another inhale-exhale of smoke before murmuring, “So are you. For the record. We could apply to be nerds together, if you want-”

With a sharp gasp, your sentence drops out of midair when Eddie kisses over your nipple, already peaking through the thin material of your bra. In his hair, your grip tightens, and Eddie groans.

In one fluid movement, he props himself into his elbows on either side of your torso, bottom half of his weight pinning you in place, plucking the smoldering joint from your grasp to dampen it into a nearby ashtray.

“Gonna be my little student,” Eddie says, wet kisses trailing down your neck, flash of teeth making you squirm. “Get you some academic… skirts. The ones with the pleats. Maybe some stockings…”

“You’re so- oh, fuck- dirty…” It’s hard to keep the admonishment in your voice as Eddie noses between your thighs, bumping at your clit through the thin cover of high-cut cotton.

“Mm-hmm.” He seems pleased with the already-visible wet patch, your core leaking steadily as he burrows deeper, until all his senses are blacked-out with nothing but the sharp tang of your honeyed arousal- who needs weed. He could get high off your smell alone.

Eddie suckles at your throbbing clit, purring encouragement low in his throat when your hips jolt forward. “And you love it.”

He’s one deep inhale from being completely pussy-drunk, mouthing sloppily at the junction where thigh meets pelvis, nimble fingers toying at the band of your underwear. He slides them down and off your legs, and you let him, wiggling in anticipation against the pressure he’s keeping you pinned with.

“Could take an electrician course.” Well aware of how close to the wire this conversation is sliding, you let the crown of your head tip back, staring at the van’s ceiling, handfuls of the flannel floor blanket squeezed into fists as you try getting one last word in- “You’re good with your h- hands.”

Said hand is cupping your bare sex, warm and wide between the V of your legs, other hand pushing your thigh back to spread you wide, obscene and on display how Eddie likes; embarrassment blooms hot in your chest as he runs a finger through your folds, slick practically loud against the far-off backdrop of forest sounds.

“What was that about my hands?” He’s teasing now, can hear it in his voice even though you can’t see the lazy grin it’s paired with; a long middle finger breaches your entrance, wet warmth swallowing the length greedily.

Your eyes flutter shut, sighing. There will be a time for arguments again but right now, with a second finger addition and Eddie’s mouth working you up, there’s no room for speech.

On your end, at least- Eddie’s proven on multiple occasions to be a master at multitasking, talking you through it while managing your pleasure, and this afternoon is no exception. His fingers curl expertly into the gummy front wall of your cunt, mouth running every second it’s not latched on to your pulsing button, dirty talk smooth and easy in his low timbre.

“Yeah, honey, that’s it. Fuck, you’re so hot. Can feel you squeezin’ around my fingers, y’so tight, angel, shit… like that- there you go…”

Etcetera. Until he’s bullied his way completely into the cradle of your legs, lying flat on his stomach to get as close as possible; until your cunt is spasming around the push and pull of his fingers, wet dripping and pooling into his palm and down your ass to the blanket below.

There’s a familiar tightness coiling in your stomach, thighs bracing around Eddie’s ears in anticipation of the unraveling. A pleasure-soaked sob gets caught in your throat, dull whine escaping instead through clenched teeth, grip on the flannel doubling until your knuckles creak in protest.

“Hey.”

There’s a confusing lack of authority or command in Eddie’s voice; you sift through the brain fog of arousal, propping your weight up into your elbows to look down at him.

Eddie looks crazy. Debauched. Lips pink and spit-soaked, chin shimmering, pupils blown out with lust as he presses a chaste kiss to the wiry curls at your mound. “Kinda quiet up there. Everything okay?”

His thumb sweeps a comforting path up the soft skin of your thigh, the abrupt switch from animal to gentleness making your head swim. He’s still looking at you with those puppy-brown eyes, fingers still buried to the hilt but unmoving; you stammer out an excuse.

“Um- yeah. M’sorry. It’s just been awhile, since you’ve had me… like this.”

It’s the truth; over the last busy week in your lives, time has eroded some of what Eddie’s been working on building with you, bravery at making noise faded with the lessened practice time.

“No one else out here, ‘cept you and me, sweetheart.” Eddie’s coaxing his fingers back into steady rhythm, watching your face carefully for any signs of withholding. “Can make as much noise as you want. Lemme hear. Please?”

Usually, Eddie’s not so soft- a sharp crack of palm to ass, flesh jiggling as he draws all the noises he wants from you- but here, in the back of the van, heady weed and warm sun an intoxicating mixture as he asks you to melt for him.

You obey. Let the floor take your upper body’s weight again as you fuck yourself on his fingers, hips lifted and seeking release. His mouth seals over your clit again, tip of his tongue lashing quick and precise against it, frizz of his curls tickling the insides of your legs as he shakes his head.

The weed is certainly a help as trapped noises heave from your chest, mouth falling open, lax and pliant with moans. “Oh, my god, Eddie. Fuck. Holy shit. Hah- right there, please, don’t stop-”

As if he would. Eddie moans in tandem with you, his own hips chasing the maddening pressure of the floorboards against the hard jut of his cock, leaking through the front of his boxers as he adds a third finger, spurred on by the fountain of breathy words this pulls from you-

“Oh god, oh god- f-fuck- Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie-”

Your speech devolves into a mindless, babbling chant of his name. That coil pulls taut, has you crunching forward in a half sit-up, hands fisting at the roots of Eddie’s hair to hold him in place (perhaps harsher than you intend but based on the way his hips stutter and grind, you can safely hazard a guess that he’s into it).

The pattern breaks when he grazes his teeth against the pulsing nub in his mouth; you have just enough time to gasp out, “I- I’m coming, Eddie, shit, m’gonna come-” before the orgasm hits you full-force.

There isn’t room in your brain to hide all the noise that threatens to suffocate, so you let them all out, muscles tightening and flexing around every bright point of pleasure that he fucks you through. High-pitched whines, panting that wracks your lungs, a moan to top it all off that feels like it comes from your toes.

“Jesus christ.” Eddie swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, sounding wrecked himself as he climbs back over your body, silver chain necklace and dark curls swinging in front of your blissed-out face. “Fuck, princess. That was so hot.”

“Yeah?” Bashfulness hasn’t fully settled in yet, you’re still loopy from the force of your pleasure, arms slipping over the boy’s freckled shoulders as he leans down to kiss you.

His tongue has a bright tang of you, as you lick into his mouth, one hand leaving his shoulder to trail down his chest. Dark ink whorls beneath your fingertips as you reach the scratchy trail of hair just before his boxers-

“Shit.” Eddie hisses, forehead thunking into yours when you palm the hard length of him, precum soaking through the fabric, softness of your palm contrasting with the damp and rough drag of cotton. His long lashes tickle your cheek, eyes fluttering closed, soft exhale magnified by close proximity as he slowly pushes into your hand.

You’re mildly surprised he hasn’t come, yet- usually Eddie gets off on getting you off, then uses the rest of his energy to make you both come again, together.

What Eddie hasn’t told you yet is that he’s done some prep of his own, this week: every night you haven’t spent in his bed, his own spit-slicked fist has taken him right to the edge, stopping just short of coming with a choking grip at the base. The idea was to build up his stamina a bit, to take advantage of lonely evenings in service to a future you.

A very noble cause that is quickly being forgotten as your hand moves with more intent and pressure against his aching cock- the drug haze is almost enough to have him completely at your mercy, to tuck his nose into the curve of your neck and find sweet release by way of your pretty palm.

But he recovers. Get just enough distance from the warmth of you to clear his mind and snake his own hand down between your bodies to capture your twisting wrist.

The protest dies on your lips when Eddie brings your hand to his mouth, sucking your middle and index finger against the pad of his tongue, saturating your digits in spit.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do.” His eyes stay locked on yours, even as he guides your newly-wet fingers back down your bodies to rest atop your cunt. “You’re gonna touch yourself until you come. Again. And if I feel like you’re holding out on me with your noises, I’m gonna make it real difficult for you to make any noise. At all.”

A thrilling shiver races up your spine, goosebumps prickling in response to the shift in Eddie’s tone. His eyes flick to your lower lip, which he bites, unable to help himself, before following the path of your hand south.

There will be time for unwinding the past, for dreaming about the future. For now, there’s a boy between your legs and the feverish glow of summer calling your name.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you

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lizardkingeliot · 5 months ago

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I took a ton of notes during my rewatch of 2x07 just now but the thing I kept coming back to again and again was Armand's framing of the entire narrative and how it plays with truth vs lies in such an insidious way it's honestly brilliant in its cruelty. Truth being used as a cudgel not only against Louis, but against Lestat as well. And against, us, the viewers at home.

We obviously all know Armand is a very powerful 500 year old vampire who is not going to be held back by an infant of a vampire like Santiago. Like… Armand. Babe. Let’s get real. But that’s the narrative set-up. The coven, now being led by Santiago, has Armand captive behind his little rickety baby gate with Sam and his prop weapon not letting the puppy come out to play. He cannot prevent it! Poor baby. Someone get him a juice box and a snack.

Enter Lestat. The vengeful lover come to make Louis and Claudia pay for what they did to him. What's interesting here is that everyone—Daniel, Louis, Armand—acknowledges in Dubai that the trial IS a sham from the beginning. A tool to allow Lestat his revenge. But the truth of why it's actually a sham is being hidden behind a thousand layers of gaslighting and deceit by Armand. Lestat is merely another prop on the stage. Being forced to use the TRUTH of his love story with Louis—and to twist essential elements of their beginning as a couple—as a weapon to drive the final wedge between them so that Armand might have Louis all to himself. That's what this is about. A farce so that Armand might have what he wants more than anything in the world. Someone who will be with him always. Without Claudia, without Lestat... who else is there for Louis to run to?

The trial as we see it is told mostly through Louis' POV. It seems to be a true picture of how it all happened but the cognitive dissonance watching him try to reconcile what Lestat was doing on the stage with the framing provided by Armand (who cuts in frequently to assure us that Lestat shapes things to suit HIS narrative) is painful. Louis sees and feels and hears the sincerity of Lestat. A Lestat who is defiant from the jump and refuses to paint the story as butchery. It's about LOVE. It is always always always about the love. An entire sham trial about vengeance and murder framed around... love.

Everyone who's familiar with the books already knows Lestat didn't want to be there. I won't go into that too much but the show did a good job of showing us just how unwell Lestat was during the entire process. But there are also some really interesting moments where we are TOLD explicitly through Louis' recounting of the events that Lestat was not actually there for revenge. Namely, the moment when Lestat says HE deserves to be punished alongside them. These are not the words of someone who is seeking vengeance. These are the words of someone desperately rattling the bars of his own cage trying everything he can to prevent what's happening. Because unlike a certain someone, in that moment Lestat is quite literally unable to prevent it!

The entire episode is Louis trying to reconcile the conflicting truths that exist inside him: that Lestat was there for revenge, that Armand couldn't prevent the coven from exacting their cruelty, and that the Lestat who was on stage WAS sincere and emotional and fighting with everything he had to let the truth ring as true as it was when he was able. He refused to refer to Louis as the accused every time Santiago insisted on it. He would only refer to Louis by name. He would NOT allow the narrative to frame him as someone who didn't also do monstrous things to his lover. He was weeping and flooded with shame. Sincerely, genuinely remorseful for the awful thing he had done to Louis.

There's also something else here about Lestat acknowledging he tried to crush what he could not own vs Armand deceiving Louis into the false sense of control that is the entire basis for their relationship. Owning something he does not crush, merely confines. He's not crushing Louis with insanity, he's locking him inside his prison of empathy. He quite literally has Louis locked in a cage while allowing him to believe he's truly free. Free from the insanity of Lestat. Evil, vengeful, gaslighting Lestat who only uses the truth to shape the narrative for himself.

There's a lot more going on here. I can't possibly get it all out of my brain right now and I imagine I'm going to be picking apart the nuances for a while. There are so many layers. The truth vs lies vs intentional reshaping of the truth of it all. But if you rewatch, pay attention to Armand's face, the score that accompanies his recounting of events, the passive way in which he holds his body in both Paris and Dubai. He's locking Louis in a dream world where the truth is present in such a way it only serves to amplify its own distortion. I don't even think he's fucking with Louis' memory all that much, just framing it in such a way that Louis cannot see past what is right there in front of him. What he already knows. If only he had just a few more tiny pieces of the puzzle...

But he's trying to get there. He is getting there. The truth of Lestat is breaking though. Lestat is still present there with him in Dubai, as real as if he were really in the room. After 74 years, Louis can still recall every detail of his face, still smile at him recalling the truth of his memories. The truth he wouldn't allow himself to look at all the way. The truth he himself had to distort for his own sake because it hurt too much. He's allowing himself to see not only the truth of himself and his own actions, but the truth of Lestat. All the complicated, sincere truth of him. The truth of the one who truly could not prevent it.

#interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire spoilers #iwtv meta #loustat #otp: all my love belongs to you #holly's can't shut up disease strikes again

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fairlyang · 2 months ago

Text

Rookie III 🕷️

w/c: 8.8K

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

tags: lil miguel backstory, miguel pov recap, perv!mig, horny thoughts, so dirty & filthy, he’s plotting, sex worker (positive!), room 1 mention, to 1 on 1 room, grand reveal, slight confessions. 18+ smut. cunnilingus, fingering, slight grinding, finger sucking, blowjob, unprotected sex (do not do!!), confession, creampie

taglist: @famouscattale @wakeupkrissy @laysmt @zaunsin @yujyujj @dprmoon @jadeloverxd @cl3stevu @canigetanormalun @weirdforever @sad-author-san @resident-clown @mybvalentine

a/n: for Miguel’s birthday here’s my long ass awaited rookie 3!! happy birthday to my mf man

part one — part two | kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

Miguel was one to keep his personal life private. Very private.

Unlike you, he actually had plenty of money in all of his accounts. He had enough to buy himself and a couple of the other spider’s houses, if he really wanted.

Not only was this man loaded but he was also lonely as hell. Though he’d never admit it to anyone and would prefer to suffer in peace and silence, the loneliness was starting to get him.

Unfortunately like the saying goes, “money doesn’t buy happiness.”

Until he found out, it indeed did.

He found the brothel way before you even realized you needed to make more money. He didn’t have a hard time with women but he was just looking for an easy way to get his dick sucked with no strings attached.

And if he could help a sex worker’s life with extra cash, why not?

After receiving blowjobs by different women he specifically chose, he found out quickly how much he liked this. The voyeur in him was awakening out of nowhere and he couldn’t help but love shoving his dick down a pretty girl’s throat without even being able to see her.

There was just something about the anonymity about it that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around but boy was he obsessed with it.

So obsessed, he became a regular.

He respected all the women and always made sure to give them a big enough tip so none of them would have to worry about food, water, or rent. It made sense in his head to help any of them out if they needed it, they were obviously providing a service but he did befriend a few of them.

Many needed an easy and quick way to make money because they were struggling but even when Miguel would help them out, they realized it might be a smart move to stay anyway. Was an easy way to make some fast cash because they had tons of regulars that went in more often than him. Which said a lot.

It was rare that the brothel would get a new girl, mainly because it was hard to even spot it and was an “if you know, you know” kind of operation.

So he was surprised when he got a call from Lola herself telling him a new rookie came in. At this point he had been going there for two years and he formed a bond with the girls, especially Lola who he now considered a close friend.

Without a second thought he dropped what he was doing and used his watch to open a portal to the roof of the brothel but quickly realized he was spider-man right now and not Miguel. So he had to make another portal to his place so he could quickly change.

He scrambled to put together an alright outfit then opened a portal to the alleyway right next to the building. He quickly closed the portal and hid his watch under the sleeve of his jacket.

Thankfully Lyla already knew to only contact him in case of an absolute emergency otherwise she does not bother him when he’s there.

He was nearly sprinting to the main entrance and almost knocked other clientele over but Estelle gave him a look as if saying “calm down”, and he did. He was not in the mood to get a lecture from her.

He couldn’t help the excitement of not only trying out a new throat but also potentially being able to help someone new who might need it.

He never would’ve guessed the chaos that would ensue mainly because he didn’t think anyone in the spider society would be struggling money-wise, let alone you, who he knew was such a hard worker.

And he had no idea it was your throat he would fuck, at least not at first.

The next morning after that night Miguel couldn’t stop thinking about the new rookie who took a throat fucking like a champ and he couldn’t help as the curiousity arose of who it could be. But already knowing the rules of the anonymity of those who wish for it, he ignored it.

He had to, to feel sane otherwise he’d just lose his mind.

On another note he found it strange that you hadn’t shown up to HQ yet considering you always came in early to help around wherever you could assist. It was technically still morning but getting closer to noon which was a bit concerning.

“Lyla can you track-“ He started to say but was interrupted.

“On it!” Lyla appears in front of him and does just that.

She always seemed to be teasing him about you for some reason so it was a no brainer for her to assume who he was thinking of, which just proved her inner thoughts right.

Why you’ve recently been living in his head is actually beyond him and he couldn’t bring himself to think of it as more as just caring for a friend.

“She is at her apartment here! Do you want me to contact her-“

“No. Do not, at least not yet.” He mumbles and shakes his head.

Maybe you were feeling sick or got an injury while on the missions yesterday? You would be stubborn enough to not tell him but would that really have you sleeping in this much?

Then an idea struck him and he was frozen in place.

An idea so unlike you it really had him in disbelief he’d even think it.

But then he really thought about it and maybe it wouldn’t be impossible?

Anything could be possible.

But this really had him stumped. Could there be a possibility you were the one at the brothel last night?

He scoffed and shook his head, as well as those thoughts deep in the back of his head that were secretly hoping it was you.

There had to be a logical explanation to you not coming early…

But what would the harm be in doing a little.. experiment to see if there’s anyway it somehow was you.

“Lyla call her around one, tell her that I want to see her in my office.” He says and she nods.

He had low hopes of this sick fantasy actually somehow being real but he just had to know and he was planning on testing you. In case it really was you.

He was looking at his screens and watching as you made the walk to his office and it really seemed like a walk of shame. You looked so nervous and may as well have been breaking a sweat.

It was a complete 180 to how you usually act, you’re usually so chill but also giddy. This was unlike you and now he was confident his plan would help him determine the verdict.

The nervousness was a bit helpful, very insightful but that wasn’t enough evidence to confirm it indeed was you.

What was a bit more helpful was how even more nervous you got while standing right in front of him. You may as well have been shaking and even more when he looked at your lips for a split second.

He nearly got distracted just thinking about those possibly identical plump lips that took his cock so well but he had to get his head out of the gutter.

Then the slightest bit of gaslighting came only to make it seem like this was just a friend annoyed his friend didn’t do some work for him.

A perfect facade.

Your blank look after that nearly had him wanting to confess but he wanted more. He needed that 100% confirmation and couldn’t act properly until he had it.

If this “Rosie Angel” really was you, he didn’t want to scare you off. So he took another break from going to the brothel, as much as it physically pained him.

Whether it was you or not, he needed that throat taking his cock again but lord even better would be to just be inside-

No.

He was getting way too ahead of himself but he couldn’t help it, after all this was possibly the best case scenario for him.

As perverted as it was he wanted it to be you so badly. Maybe a bit selfish on his end or just his consciousness realizing his horny and maybe romantic thoughts towards you are becoming evidently worse than usual, he didn’t care.

So for a week straight he just dealt with the horniness with his own fist and tried his hardest to not get a boner whenever you were near because his brain just made him believe it was you who took his cock. The pavlov theory really did a number on his routine.

It was a challenge but he was also able to do regular ole missions with you. He conditioned himself to not have those thoughts when lives could be at stake, when he was doing his job as Spider-Man.

At the end of the week when he was already planning on going back to the brothel is when he got texts from both Lola and Estelle that the rookie was getting switched to room 1 and he was beyond thrilled.

Them not hearing the end of how much he liked the rookie’s service along with the amount of how much he paid plus tipped that night made them laugh at how fast he got obsessed, but little do they know just how much he’s been losing his mind.

This may as well have been a dream come true for him but he still needed that 100% confirmation. And there was one easy way to do that.

One that he should’ve thought of way sooner but better late than never.

He only tracked people’s watches when it was absolutely necessary, and this felt very necessary so he didn’t hesitate.

“Lyla can you-“

“Yep!”

He rolled his eyes and groaned, at this point he’s just becoming predictable and he hates that his AI knows what he’s thinking.

“She is…” her eyes widen and he can’t handle the anticipation.

“Where Lyla? Where is she?” He asks desperately, needing that confirmation or for her to deny it to just throw this whole idea out of his head.

“She is at your favorite place!” She says and without another word he opens a portal straight to the alleyway by the brothel since he was already dressed properly.

Lyla disappeared without another word, already knowing the routine but having a feeling this one would be slightly different for him.

He quickly closed the portal and looked around to where your watch could be. Maybe to call it irresponsible later because technically it could get into the wrong hands but he had bigger matters into his hands.

He was finally going to fuck you, and because of Lola’s clumsy manner of saying his name that night he was almost certain that you knew it was him. Now all he was thinking was why you didn’t have the courage to confront him all week?

He was losing his mind all week but then figured you might’ve also been the same way, maybe even worse because he paid you generously.

Finally after some loud beeps letting him know where the watch was he found an array of webs by some trash bags. Subtle.

He sighed noticing it was untouched and started walking towards the entrance. Now was when the horny thoughts came in and he didn’t bother to stop them this time.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to fuck you but nonetheless he’s finally gonna do it.

He took his phone out and quickly texted Lola he was outside so they could get straight to it. He walked in and there was a line of men giving money to Estelle while they murmured about fucking such a perfect pussy.

It was to no surprise they were talking about the rookie, you, of course. It only had him grow more excited that he stuck three fingers up then made a zero to Estelle so she can get the hint that’s how much extra time he wanted with you.

He only did this on special occasions, so of fucking course he was going to do that tonight of all nights.

She rolled her eyes and nodded then waved him off while she counted the bills that were going to be all for you.

He walked past the men and there was Lola with the most obnoxious smirk on her face which only prompted him to roll his eyes.

“Took you long enough Mig.” She jokes with a chuckle then turns to walk towards the long hallway.

“Couldn’t really help myself.” He says with a slight shrug making her snicker.

He turned to look at her and her lips were in a straight line trying so hard to not laugh. She coughs then chuckles, “just never seen you so… well not pussy drunk but after tonight I’m sure you will be.”

Only now did he pay attention to the melody of different moans and whimpers that were up ahead. It only had him wondering which were yours and how angelic they’d sound as he first slips inside you.

Just like that he felt his pants getting tighter and the anticipation was killing him.

“You have no idea.” He murmurs, making her chuckle again.

“Y’know sharing is caring around these parts.” She joked, making him groan.

“We’ll have to see about that.” He scoffs with another eye roll.

“Was a week too long for you? Too pent up?” She teased and pouted at him, earning herself a laugh from him.

“Yeah something like that..” he mumbled, not exactly willing to give her the explanation she so desperately wants to know.

She’s yet to know about his actual main job and not the half lie that he’s a geneticist. He wants to keep it that way, mainly for her safety.

They made a left turn and Lola cleared her throat to prepare her preppy voice. Miguel laughs and grins, “time to take our acting skills to the test yet again.”

This time she rolled her eyes and stuck her middle finger up as they enter the first room. She brought her hands down and Miguel folded his arms against his chest as all the men looked at her just because of the loud clicks of her heels.

There he was beside her looking like a guard dog when really he was just making sure no one fucked with her when she does her job.

Meanwhile you were on the left side of the room in the middle slot fucking yourself back into the man that was pounding into you. After a few strokes he finished inside you and pulled out.

Lola made a gesture with her finger to the line of men that were behind you to beat it because someone with more money than them wanted a turn.

It was basically an unspoken rule to leave when Lola appeared.

Thankfully they all scrambled and that’s mostly just because of the big man next to her and also the fact that they know Miguel would beat them to a pulp if necessary like he has done before to previous assholes.

Miguel was somehow already rock hard and just seeing you in that position was enough for precum to leak in his boxers. He was fucking ready and beyond excited but the smallest bit of nervousness was also in the mix.

What if he came too fast? Or all of a sudden wasn’t good enough? Or if he moaned out your name?

“Here’s our rookie! She just got moved up front today actually!” Lola says excitedly as if you both didn’t know that already.

“Dropped in at the perfect time then huh?” He says and is now stood behind you, admiring your ass and dripping pussy.

Just so fucked out. Probably haven’t came either because men are just so greedy. He needs to be the one to change that.

“As if this isn’t your usual time Miguel.” She says and he nearly couldn’t stop the eye roll because of her playful tone.

Ignoring her, he started to unbuckle his pants because he was growing impatient and you were right in front of him. Looking so gorgeous with your ass out and now creamy pussy.

He pulled his pants down along with his boxers making his hard cock spring up against his stomach. Lola snickers for a second before walking away and off to find her next client.

Then he grabs his cock and rubs the tip against your folds then slides it down to your clit. He was already fucking aching to feel you so he didn’t hesitate to tease your hole, dipping the tip in slightly then pulling it away.

You were oddly quiet this time and he hated it. So he slammed into you and finally you let out a loud moan.

So pretty.

“Good girl.” He moans and places his hands on to your hips, moving it back into him.

You let out a whimper then sounded muffled and he couldn’t have that so he starts pounding into you so quick that you were back to moaning for him again.

He was letting out his own moans, he couldn’t be bothered to be quiet. This really was a dream come true and your pussy was pure heaven.

You were perfectly tight and he regretted not making a move before. Who would really care about him being an unprofessional boss?

No one would ever have the nerve to complain or do anything of the sort to his face.

He was now fucking you deeper and deeper, making sure to hit his hips against yours with every thrust. His eyes were nearly rolling to the back of his head and he was somehow already starting to feel that all too familiar feeling in his abdomen.

You were just squeezing him so perfectly and he couldn’t have ever guessed this would be happening two weeks ago.

A part of him felt a bit bad, a very small, tiny part. But your moans could got rid of that part and he couldn’t be bothered to care. He’ll deal with the consequences later.

For now, he desperately wanted to make you cum and fill you up.

He looked down at your perfect ass and smacked it before alternating between both cheeks which caused them to become a bit red. “Fuck baby- you feel so good wrapped around my cock like that." He moaned out and started fucking you harder, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“Fuckkk-“

He then started slowing down slightly and started hitting deeper, now hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. "Mmm fuck yes- please!" You cried out and move your ass up against him making him groan.

He smacked it and continued his pace letting out grunts and moans because you just felt so fucking good. "Oh god yes- just like that. Please don't stop-" you moaned and he just shook his head as if you could see him.

He then switched his pace now going faster, and fucking you harder again, leaving you a pretty whimpering mess for him.

One thing he was wishing for was being able to see your face, oh how badly he wanted to see how good you’d look.

How your face is looking right this instant. All he could see was the way your legs started to shake and he could tell you were close as well.

You were letting out the sweetest little cries for him after bringing a hand down to start rubbing your clit and they were only helping him get that much closer to the edge.

He continued his pace but with how perfect you sounded, he started to twitch inside you which resulted in you clenching against him, making you both moan.

He felt so fucking close and he could tell you right there with him, "Fucking cum for me pretty girl- fuck- please cum for me baby." He groans and you cry out, your whole body shaking as Miguel holds you steady as he came inside you.

Your walls were entrapping him as he completely slowed down, riding his climax. "I fucking knew you'd feel so good angel." He murmurs and slowly pulls out.

You whine as soon as he slipped out of you which only had him grinning ear to ear. He happily watched all his cum leak out of your pussy and chuckled when you clenched against nothing. Poor thing.

He sighed and tried to control his breathing as he pulled his boxers and pants up because there was no way he had another in him.

His worst nightmare, he did cum too fast.

He’d just have to make it up to you.

So as you calmed yourself down as soon as he heard Lola’s heels he ushered her over and told her to tell Estelle to not let anyone fuck you for half an hour because he still wanted to pay for it but to use it to give you a break.

“You’re such a good man Mig.” She says and gives him a genuine smile.

He waved her off and looked at the mess below your legs. It was a lot and hopefully you wouldn’t be doing this for too long otherwise you’ll definitely have a reason to not go to work tomorrow and he wasn’t going to have that.

If it weren’t for Miguel’s generousity, you definitely would’ve been overstimulated to hell and back. You gladly took that half hour to calm down but then took another break because your legs were hurting.

Given you were getting used like a fleshlight for a straight hour before Miguel came along but he was just the one that pushed you over the edge.

You didn’t expect that was how your night was gonna go. You only stayed for another hour before deciding you couldn’t do anymore and went home. Not a singular man could give you an orgasm, only edging you for their own pleasure once again.

But not before hearing from Estelle that you didn’t ease yourself into it which had you groaning.

Once collecting your watch you just opened a portal right then and there. You closed it then went directly to the bathroom clean yourself up as fast as you could because you were ready to knock out.

After a few minutes of lazily cleaning up, you went into your room and took off all your clothes and quickly put on fresh new clothes. You then plopped onto your bed and immediately knocked out.

You woke up to the loud sounds of police sirens and cars screeching outside your window and it was times like these you wish you weren’t living in a crappy apartment.

You just groaned and covered your face with your body pillow, not wanting to wake up or even feel the sun hit you. Just stay home and relax because your body desperately needed it.

But you were more responsible than that.

So you groaned and threw your pillow to the side and looked over at your clock on your bedside table. 11:26 am.

“Shit!!” You mutter and jump out of bed only to fall straight to the floor.

You groaned and slowly got back on your feet, you steadied yourself and you were barely able to stand.

At this point it’d be so obvious.

You slowly walked to your bathroom praying a shower could ease the pain because you couldn’t go out saving lives if you couldn’t even fucking walk.

After your shower you felt a bit better, it relaxed your muscles and might barely be enough for you to go on about your day.

But you just might not go to the brothel tonight, so your body can take a break otherwise this whole ordeal might mess up with the most important part of your life.

You grab your suit and put it on before grabbing your watch and putting it on as well. You make a portal to HQ and walk towards it, mask in hand.

You ended up in the lobby and quickly made your way inside to see who you could help or if you could immediately join in on a mission.

Meanwhile Miguel was watching you on his screens very carefully. After last night he thought it was best to be upfront and honest, not just because it was morally correct but because he couldn’t handle doing everything he’s done and not even making it real.

Not behind his facade at the brothel of a rich lonely man, but as him.

As the guy who gives the orders around in your main job or the guy who sometimes goes on missions with you. Or even the guy who sometimes cracks up at the jokes you make but more importantly, as the guy who has grown to like you.

As Miguel O’Hara.

He realized that it was about time that he came to terms with his true feelings and after he’s done telling you, he’ll just have to wait for your reaction.

So he assigned Jess to take you on a handful of missions, all to catch easier anomalies because he knew you must’ve been tired. Then when you’d go to your universe, he’d wait until you got back and put his plan into action.

Finally after what seemed like the longest day imaginable, you made a portal from your universe to your apartment back at Earth-928.

You walked into your room, quickly closing the portal, and immediately plopped down onto your bed with a groan. You sighed and closed your eyes, thinking a little nap won’t hurt.

You scoot over making sure your whole body is on the mattress then laying your head against your pillow. But right when sleep was about to take over, you feel your phone buzz in your suit pocket.

You were going to ignore it until it buzzed again and you just groaned then turned to your side to pull it out. You looked at the lockscreen notifications and see it was a text from Lola.

With a furrowed brow you tap the message then unlock your phone. You scan through the text and your eyes quickly widen. She said someone was requesting for you at the one on one rooms.

Someone.

There was only one fucking person that came to mind and it brought instant anxiety to your body. Miguel had to have somehow figured out it was you because one on ones were, from what you’ve seen, the most expensive.

And if by some miracle it wasn’t him then you must’ve really been making good impressions.

You were unsure if it was a good idea to go, mostly because you feared the absolute worst. You really loved being a part of the Spider Society and would hate to not be a part of it just because you needed another job to make more money.

It would be the most unfortunate thing to happen but it made you realize it’s probably for the best to be upfront and honest. You knew from the start that it was him and it should’ve been top priority to tell him instead of keeping quiet about it.

And then proceeding to accept his money after the fact... It wasn’t technically stealing but it sure did feel like it so you’d have to return it as well.

You sighed, getting up and walking towards your closet to figure out what to wear. You eyes scanned through the side where you had your dresses and decided why not.

You grabbed a red velvet bodycon dress because if you were about to have a reveal and confrontation, you may as well look good for it.

After putting it on the dresser, you quickly went into the bathroom to take the quickest shower ever but completely avoiding your hair because there wasn’t time for it.

You got out, quickly scrambling back into your room to put on undergarments then the dress. You grabbed a pair of regular black heels, putting them on carefully then going back to your bed to put on your watch.

Realizing you couldn’t expose your watch, you turned to the small sofa by your bed and grabbed the leather jacket. You opened the portal to the alleyway then put the jacket on as you walked in.

You felt an immediate shiver as you walked onto the pavement. You closed the portal then walked towards the front entrance, trying to ignore the goosebumps on your body. Not only was it cold but you were nervous as fuck and that didn’t mix well.

You tried to shake the nerves but it was hard to. In a way, your life was on the line and heavily relied on a man who you somewhat have a decent relationship with. One who you have slowly been getting feelings for but that’s besides the point.

Now walking through the front door did not help ease your mind and only made it more real.

You went up to Estelle and she handed you the sheet, “still want the mask?”

You hummed, really thinking about it for a second but then nodded, “yes please.”

You signed in then she handed you a matching red mask while she grabbed the sheet. “Give me a second Rosie.” She says, holding a finger up and you nod as you put the mask on.

She then picks up a walkie talkie and speaks into it, “we need Lola up front.”

While you waited for Lola you tried to calm yourself down. Silently praying it wouldn’t be him. But if it was him then praying it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

You faced away from Estelle and took deep breaths, wanting this to be as fast as ripping a bandaid off.

Finally you heard Lola’s clicks and you looked to your left to find her walking up to you, “and the rookie upgrades once again!”

You chuckle then follow her lead to the stairway as Estelle wished you luck.

You’ll need it.

“How are you feeling?” She asks as you start to climb up.

“Nervous.” You mumble and quickly go up the stairs to catch up and stand next to her.

“Aw it’s okay. I remember my first time and you just gotta be honest with the guy. Communication is key for this scenario and set ground rules on what is, and isn’t okay.” She advises and you nod along.

The last part really got to you and made you realize how wrong you’ve gone about this. Maybe being honest after you sucked his dick would’ve been better than now.

Hell you weren’t so sure the booked room was even going to be used as intended, but hopefully the walls were thick.

“Oh and don’t worry about the walls, they’re better than the ones downstairs.” She adds as you made it to the second floor.

She walks ahead of you and for the most part the hall was quiet. That was until you walked past the doors and could barely hear the faint sounds of moans.

This floor looked like it was recently remodeled, fresh wallpaper, bulbs that actually worked. Huge difference from the main floor.

You walked past like eight doors, being that this floor was like an apartment hallway and it seemed they were booked early.

Finally she stopped at the number ten and motioned towards the door, “here you are. If you need anything just shoot me a text.”

You quickly nodded, reaching for your jacket pocket but realizing you forgot to grab your phone before leaving.

Well it was too late for that now.

“Have fun!” She chirped and walked away from you, going back the way you came from.

You took a deep breath then let it out and repeating it until your heart beat stopped racing. Once you finally felt emotionally and physically ready you grabbed the doorknob and opened the door.

You walked in and closed the door shut behind you, looking straight at the bed but more importantly at the familiar figure sitting on the end of it.

You held your breath and you felt your mouth run dry, shit.

He slowly turned to look at you, once his eyes met yours and that’s when you knew that he knew.

His eyes alone proved it.

You walked towards him when he stands up and turns to face you. He kept his hands to himself as you got closer until you were stood right in front of him.

His eyes bored into yours and if looks could kill, that is not what his were saying at all. It was surprisingly the opposite. His eyes were soft and warm, quite the distinction from how they usually were which made it all the more confusing.

You gulped and decided you had to be the one to start, it was only right. “Miguel I-“

But it seemed he had a different plan.

“No, please, let me go first.” He cuts you off and you’re instantly confused.

“Just starting off by saying I’m not mad, hell quite the opposite..” he starts, muttering the last part and you gasp because what.

“Also I didn’t immediately know right after the first night, I had to do some investigating before bringing it up to you to make sure that it really was you.” He says and you slowly nod.

“I did have the thought it was you after you didn’t come in the next day, bright and early like usual but couldn’t base it off just that.” He explains making you chuckle.

“You’re too smart for your own good.” You respond and he shrugs.

“I only thought of using the tracker on your watch the day you were switched to the first room so don’t give me too much credit.” He admits earning himself a scoff.

“Our watches have trackers….” You say dumbfounded with wide eyes and he just stays silent.

“Anyway… so what are your reasons for not telling me? Given that Lola said my name by accident so you definitely knew.” He changed the topic because he wanted to know bad, he’s been wanting to know all week.

“I uh.. well I guess because I was mainly thinking you were going to curse me out or fire me and I didn’t want to lose my place at the Spider Society.” You admitted then quickly added, “and because we- I, y’know… y-yesterday- well I j-just- I didn’t know how to.”

Your face burned up quick and seeing him in the flesh while thinking of everything you did was just something else.

Just last night he was-

You were bent over-

No. No time to think about it. It was not the time.

Suddenly it felt like the room grew hotter and your nerves were coming back again. What was it he said to start this all off with? Opposite of mad? The hell did that mean?

Your mind was going thousands of miles an hour right now so you were lost as fuck and not in the mood for mind games. “So what’s the opposite of mad?” You ask and he sighed.

His hand reached out to your face and he pulled up the mask then threw it to the floor. Seeing your face and now visually confirming it with his own eyes, he knew what he had to do.

“I just think that what happened doesn’t mean the end of the world..” he murmurs and you feel your heart start to race.

No fucking way-

“So what you're saying is we don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen?” You quietly ask and he slowly nods, “I think I’d prefer that.”

“Why's that?” You whisper and gulp. Was this really happening?

“I was kind of hoping it was you..” he says and takes another step closer to you.

“Listen you know I’m not good at talking about things like this- it’s just- well recently I’ve-“ he stammered and was avoiding your eyes.

You bring a hand up to his face and make him look at you, “we could do this outside of the brothel.” You suggest and he nods.

His cheeks were warm against your hands, your heart was beating out of your chest, and this all just felt so right. You could tell where things were going and you were happy this is how things were turning out. This was something you never thought you’d ever get to do with him but yet it was nice.

Well it was better than nice, it was something you’ve wanted for a while but were too scared to admit it.

“I should’ve just told you sooner- about last night-“ he couldn’t even finish either sentence so you took another step closer, now being as close as you can be.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” You whisper, moving your hands down to wrap them around his neck, “not right now anyway.”

His eyes scanned you, looking for any discomfort or hint of uneasiness but there was no sign of either.

He quickly wrapped one arm around your waist and the other to your jaw, pulling you in for a kiss. You kissed him back without a second thought immediately knowing this is what you wanted.

It’s what you both wanted all along.

So because of that, the kiss quickly went from soft and sweet to hot and heavy within mere seconds. Your hands were all over each other, quickly scrambling to take off clothes while also getting a proper feel for each other's bodies.

Your hands were on his biceps as he took your jacket off and threw it behind him. You pulled away for a split second so he can help you get on the bed but not before he took a look at your wrist. “Oh we’re having a talk about your watch later.”

“Fuck yeah we are because what did you mean by tracker-“ you test and raise an eyebrow.

He just waved you off, grabbing onto your back as he helped you lay down on the middle of the bed while he hovered over you. “Like I said, later.” He responded making you playfully roll your eyes.

That was when he grabbed onto your wrist and slipped said watch from it and he reached over, placing it on to the bedside table, before doing the same to his, “you take it off during sex?” You ask and fight back a laugh.

“Well I see you technically did the same…” he mumbled and went down to kiss you from your jaw then slowly going down.

“Whatever..” you mutter and bring your hands to his head, running your fingers through his slicked back hair.

He left soft kisses along your neck while running his hands up and down your body, now taking a proper feel for himself. This could technically count as your first, since you’re seeing each other and not blocked off by a wooden wall. Hopefully it'll be the first of many in your near future because he was already obsessed.

He sucked on your neck, making sure to leave a mark then licking it softly. He kissed down your neck, then to your collarbone and then down to your cleavage. He could take his time and really savor the moment, and you but he was too impatient and insatiable to wait.

He lowered himself down, kissing your stomach over your dress then going down even lower. He kissed your thigh and kept going to which point he lifted your left leg up just to continue his trail. He sat up and kissed your ankle gently then grabbed your heel and took it off.

He put that leg down then went to grab the next. He held it up gently, taking the heel off and putting the pair on the floor below him. He kissed your ankle then started coming up fast so he laid back down, licking eyes with you the whole time until he was right between your thighs.

His arms spread your legs and he got closer, kissing your inner thigh then switching to the other. He looked at the red panties and groaned because he was able to smell your arousal already. His heightened smell helped but even then the small indent of your slick wasn’t helping you either way.

“Didn’t have a chance to do this yet.” He mutters as he grabs the fabric, pulling it to the side and nearly drooling at the sight.

“But you knew it was me last night, right? You technically could’ve.” You teased, making him chuckle.

“Too impatient once I realized it was you.” He murmurs, looking up at you, “like you are now?” You retort and he nods.

He looks back down and dives right in, licking at your folds to have a proper taste and now he’s glad he saved it for right now.

He moaned against you as your sweet arousal filled his mouth, somehow tasting even better than he could have ever imagined. His tongue went up and flicked your clit while his left arm wrapped around your thigh.

Maybe actually seeing him, just clicked in your brain that it really was him all along.

He added the first finger in, sliding it in so easily as he went back up to suck on your clit. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you moaned his name, subconsciously grinding against the mattress to feel some sort of pleasure himself.

And of course your moans were also angelic, that should not have been a surprise since he heard them already but yet it was. He slid his finger out then back in before piling it in and out at a fast pace right off the bat, “oh fuck Miguel- just like that baby-“ you moaned and felt your eyes flutter.

The pleasure was already making you dizzy but it might just be the fact that he admitted he wanted it to be you that played a part in making your head spin. How he could suck at anything that involves feelings but be amazing at showing it, was beyond you.

He pulled away, eyes on your pretty face as his glistening lips turned into a smile. Even if he did wait to confess to more than just one thing, he felt content with how he did it. At least it made sense in terms of your relationship.

Your arousal was already dripping down his finger and it had him needing more.

So he added a second finger, and licked his lips as you locked eyes with you, “that feel good angel?” He murmurs and you quickly nod.

“Fuck yes- yes it does.” You whine as he pumps them harder into you.

“Doing so good for me too baby. Fuck I need to be inside you again.” He moans, making your walls clench against his fingers.

“Mm you like that huh? God there was nothing I wanted more than to just take you out of the box and bring you up here.” He murmurs and it makes you shake.

“I wouldn’t have complained.” You say with a grin as he groans.

“Can we switch? I need you.” You offered and didn’t even mean to sound so desperate but he couldn’t say no.

“Are you sure?” He asks, just to make sure because he’d love to still give you pleasure.

He’d be there between your legs for hours if you’d let him.

You nod and let go of his hair, “need you in my mouth again too.”

His eyes roll back before laying back on you and he slowly slips his fingers out then sits up. You quickly get on top of him and start grinding yourself against the hard imprint of his dick. He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean as you did so, the eye contact feeling so intimate.

Your hands were on his shoulders, steadying yourself as he moved you both to the top of the mattress. You push him down and he takes his fingers out of his mouth when you suddenly pull him in for a kiss.

He kissed back and slid his tongue inside your mouth so you could taste yourself as well. You could taste it so easily and it had your head spinning again.

You break away and go down his body, quickly unbuttoning his dress shirt because you needed a peek. Your hands trail along his pecs and go down the line of his abs as you gawk at his body.

Of course that tight fitting suit left nearly nothing to the imagination.

You knew he was fit, but this was the body sculpted by Greek Gods themselves because he looked so fucking good.

You broke out of your little trance and went down lower until you were between his legs, hands already working on his belt as he spoke, “not spending too much time on this, I need you.”

You fought back a moan as you undid his belt and quickly did the button then lowered the zipper, “whatever you say, boss.”

His cock twitched right before your eyes and you quickly pulled it down making it spring up and hit his stomach. You grabbed it and the tip was leaking so much, you licked it off making sure to swallow before spitting on it then stroking him with both hands.

You got closer then opened your mouth and put it inside, instantly bobbing your head since it seemed you were both impatient. He moans and his hands went to your head, just petting it for now. You pull away just for a second to make things clear, “you can fuck my throat again if you want.”

“As good as it was, we’re gonna have to save it for another time.” He murmured and you nod then got right back to work.

You made sure to take him all the way down until his hairs started tickling you and your throat was filled then went back up just to immediately go back down, “fuck baby- doing so good, you like taking my cock huh?”

You moaned, squeezing your legs together as you nodded with your mouth full, “good girl- such a good fucking girl.” He murmured and you looked up at him through your lashes.

“Need you so bad baby, fuck-“ he moans and you felt your pussy clench around nothing.

Suddenly he pulls you off and he wipes your drool away with his hand while you quickly sit up, “how do you want me?”

“On your back, wanna look at you.” He says and you lay down.

You spread your legs as much as you could handle as he positions himself between your thighs. His hands rub the back of your thighs gently as he teases you with just the tip. He slips it in then right back out making you pout, “Miguel please.” You whined and he just grinned.

“Need it so bad baby? How bad do you want it?” He murmurs and you gulp.

“So fucking badly. It was on the back of my mind all day, just needed you to fuck me.” You admit and he groans before slipping it in.

He pushed himself all the way in and then pulled back just to slam back into you making you both moan. You nearly forgot how thick he was but you didn’t need time to adjust, it was like a perfect fit already.

He started to move instantly, desperate to make you both cum because those moans were gonna be the death of him. You squeezed him to fucking perfection and he was happy you felt the same way because he wasn’t so sure how he would’ve moved on from such a perfect girl with a perfect pussy if you didn’t.

His thrusts were fast and his hips were meeting yours as he started going harder, “fuck- if I cum fast again it’s not my fault.” He says in between breaths making you laugh.

“Oh so it’s mine?” You teased and he instantly nods.

“You fit like a fucking glove-“ he grunts, making you moan.

His hands suddenly came up to your chest, bringing the top of your dress down and the bra too before his hands started to squeeze your tits in his hands, “perfect tits too, fuck you’re perfect.”

Your walls entrapped his cock, making every thrust feel even better. His fingers pinched your nipples as your hands just grabbed his arms, wanting to feel absolutely everything, “Fuck Miguel just like that- don’t stop-“

“Don’t plan on it.” He mutters then groans.

You felt even better than last night which he didn’t think was even possible.

Your juices were making a ring around his base which had him losing his mind once he noticed. He focused on going harder and deeper now since he was able to tell that he was sadly already getting close.

How it was possible that your body did this to him twice on back to back nights was crazy, but he was really surprised because it was you, of all people.

“After this I don’t think I’ll need to come back here.” He says, making you melt, “Yeah? Found what you needed?”

“Mmm I sure hope so.” He purrs and you grab onto his shirt and pull him close to you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him as close as possible which made him hit your sweet spot with every thrust, “fuck! Oh my fuck-“

“Oh baby- god you’re fucking perfect.” He moans as you wrap your arms behind his neck.

He leaned his forehead against yours as you moaned in sync every time he hit your sweet spot. You breathed against each other, just living in the moment and relishing that this was real.

You brought a hand down and started rubbing your clit because you felt that too familiar feeling building in your stomach and wanted to be able to cum with him. He could feel you clench against him even more now and he could feel his own orgasm on fast approach.

That’s when his brain decided to make a heartfelt confession, “Y’know I think I’ve a-always liked you- just too stubborn for my own good sometimes.”

You gasped then tried to keep your eyes open and on his as he continued, “Please be mine, I’ll take care of you, anything you need I’ve got you. Just need you like this and to always by my side.”

You whimpered and nodded, your heart racing fast and the butterflies mixing with your incoming orgasm overwhelming you, “yes- fuck yes absolutely-“

He then leaned in and smashed his lips against yours, he slid his tongue inside your mouth and immediately fighting for dominance as he started to twitch inside you. He moaned against your mouth and you just kept the sloppy kiss going as long as you could.

Just then both your orgasms came crashing down and you were letting out combinations of mewls and whines as he groaned and spilled his load as deep as he could. Your bodies molded together, you brought your hand up then caressed his arms as his hand was on your jaw, light stroking your cheek as you came down from your highs.

He pulled away from your mouth and leaned his forehead to yours as you both panted. His thumb stroked your cheek softly as he slowed down then slowly started to pull out but you stopped him, “wait- not yet. Let's just stay like this for a while.”

“I don’t wanna crush you though.” He murmurs then flips onto his back slowly.

You held onto him and laid your head on his chest, now bringing your right hand up to his chest. You were able to hear his heart beat and it made you smile, feeling a new sense of happiness and tranquility.

He held you gently, stroking your head as he attempted to calm his rapid breathing. Your presence helped, with just hearing your soft breaths, his slowed down and he felt overall happy that this is how things ended.

He didn’t think he’d be lucky enough for something like this to happen to him but he’ll never take it for granted. He’ll take care of you and treat you like he should’ve been doing this whole time.

And you’ll do the exact same.

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara imagine #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara oneshot #atsv miguel #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara x you #miguel o’hara fic #rookie #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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afsalovescats · 2 months ago

Note

Omg could I request a yandere gojo who’s also our next door neighbor? Maybe they met by the reader being conveniently helpful, not thinking much of it? But also assuming reader has a petty sense of humor, and doesn’t get half of his social cues suggesting his interest for other than him gluing to her whenever possible.

omg a reader whos dense? guys this is litteraly me, i love this concept smmm

Warning : yandere type shit, also reader is a smoker (vaugely and barely mentiond)

Omg yall i wanna make another part, lmk if yall want one too, lowkey wanna make a series building up to his obsession in ur pov....i might.

Btw if u havent noticed i am actually so big brain, i am storming ideas fast. Keep sending in reqs!!

You never thought that living next to someone like Satoru Gojo would be anything out of the ordinary. He was charming, a bit of a flirt, and definitely the life of anybody in the gloomy neighborhood. But you quickly learned that there was more to him than met the eye.

It all started one lazy afternoon when you noticed him struggling to carry in a mountain of grocery bags. He was balancing them awkwardly, he looked strong with muscles and everything, he just wasn't balacing them right at all. It was so obvious too. And it looked like he might drop everything at any moment if you didnt rush over. You couldn’t help but step outside from the lobby of your dingy apartment complex, your curiosity perked and wanting to converse in small talk due to boredom. “Need a hand, or are you trying out for a circus act?” you joked, a playful smirk on your face.

He looked up, his signature grin lighting up his features. “Circus? Nah, but I could use your help to make these bags disappear,” he replied, flashing that mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “What’s the point of having a neighbor if they won’t help you out?” he retorted playfully as his gaze on you never wavers.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, rolling your eyes, and before you knew it, you were taking a few bags from him, both of you heading to his front door, but not before going to the main lobby to go to the elevator. He was your neighbor too so obviously why wouldn't you help? Being a good neighbor was the least you could provide as service!

As you chatted, his conversation flowed easily, he seemed to be interested in anything you were saying, and occasionaly asked questions that may have come across as personal. But honestly you didnt seem to notice the questions. Neither did you notice the glances directed your way and his gaze lingering on you for far too long, the way his smile always slightly rised whenever you accidently brushed against him. Due to the elevator space and the amount of grocerries in hand.

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself running into Gojo more often. He was always “conveniently” around when you were outside for a smoke since smoking wasn't permitted inside the complex or apartments. While you thought he was just friendly, there was a deeper undercurrent to his attention that you were blissfully unaware of. Very blissfully unaware of, thankfully.

One evening, you decided to play a small prank on him, no harm. He'd just been annoying lately. You slipped a sticky note on a small carton of milk planted right near his door, claiming that he’d won an award for “Most Annoying Neighbor.” The corners of your mouth slightly raised, a harmless joke, as you walked away to go to work, curious as to what his reaction will be later.

The next few hours later when you were lounging on your couch, watching a show mindlessly in the dark, you heard a few knocks on the door, confused, you hesitantly try to peek out the window, near the door but instead you see a figure wearing all black. You then sigh as you check the peephole and see him. Standing out there at night as he leans on one leg with a hand on his hip.

He's now appeared at your door, the note in hand and an amused yet intense look in his eyes. “You think this is funny?” he said, stepping just a bit too close. “Maybe I should write you a letter too. How about ‘Most Unappreciative Neighbor’?” he replies back as he continues staring at down at you, litteraly since he was tall.

Your laughter faltered slightly, but you brushed it off, thinking he was just joking. “Come on, it’s a joke. Besides, you’re too much of a show-off to be offended. You should appreciate you even got an award." unaware to you, the way your wordered it, as the corners of your mouth raised, actually set something off in him.

His smile faltered for just a moment, a flicker of something darker crossing his features. “Oh, I’m not offended. Just… disappointed.” He leaned closer, slightly crouching his shoulders to lean down as his shoulders slump as one hand is on the side of the outline of the door, half in half out so it prevents you from shutting it. His breath warm against your ear in the cold chilly night.

“You should know better than to mess with someone who cares about you.” He replies blanky, as his whole facade drops and he simply stares at you. No expression, no charming smile, no teasing, nothing, his pretty blue orbs just blank.

You blinked, caught off guard by his whole demeanor. “Care about me?” you reply raising an eyebrow then you burst out laughing as you slightly cover your mouth, not trying to be mean but this was actually amusing.

He tilted his head, and the glint in his eye made you shiver, but you brushed it aside with a smile, thinking you had misread his expression. “You’re more than that to me,” he said, the seriousness of his tone finally making you feel a bit uneasy. "So much more." He finishes but you simply continue smiling, trying to be friendly in this situation. Before you could respond, he added, “But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

Now his smile came back as he stops leaning down slightly and instead stand up straight as his eyes atleast aren't blank anymore.

You laughed nervously, backing up a step. “Yeah, sure, just don’t get too attached.” You say as yet once again you are so unaware of Satoru's genuine feelings.

But Satoru didn’t respond with laughter. Instead, he stepped forward, closing the distance. “Oh, I’m already attached. You don’t get to walk away from this.”

"...Of course you are! I'm just so great!"

You dont know if you said anything wrong because now he hasnt replied and your standing there awkwardly as his arm is still against the edge of the door frame.

"Goodnight Satoru." you begin to break down the awkward silence between you two.

After a few blinks he smiles, but it dosent meet his eyes. Instead he ruffles your head then he says "You should really get those locks checked out, or get more. Its dangerous." he replies as his smile is still there but its more chilling.

You hum as you dismiss him with a wave and shut the door. Something tells you to wait it out, just in case, and you trust your intution. You wait for a little waiting til he leaves as you stand on the other side of the door. He didnt leave right away as he stares at the spot where you just were, where now his eyes meet the door.

Then just like that he walks away. Weirdo.

Another time you invited him over to your house since you date decided to ditch you for no reason! So weird! Satoru luckily found you after you ended the call and offered to cheer you up. So currently you both are watching a movie at your place in silence, he was hesitant to invite you, you didnt know why but you didn't bother asking to not be rude.

"I just wish...you know we were talking for a while and like...I thought things were going well!" you sigh yet exclaim at the same time. Still upset since you thought for once you could pull someone. You can't.

"He sounds like an asshole." Satoru says without a second thought.

You let out a groan mixed with a whine, Satoru glances at you as you then shrink to the couch as whine again annoyed.

"I wish he was like, obsessed or something! I want a guy to be like that! So that he'll never leave me or cheat! is that too much to ask for?" You ask yourself as you put popcorn in your mouth.

Apparently not, since what you wanted was right next to you, without your knowledge.

"Clingy? You into that?" he asks tilting his head as he eyes you- has this man even looked away once? You actually notice and wonder.

You hum in response as for the next few minutes you eat popcorn and the movie's audio plays into the background.

“Clingy?” he repeated again, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. I’ll be right here, always, for you.” He winks, but something tells you hes not joking.

The days passed, and while you continued your innocent banter and petty pranks and sarcastic yet teasing words, Satoru's intensity deepened. He started showing up unexpectedly, always ready to lend a hand or share a laugh. You thought it was endearing, never realizing that he was weaving himself deeper into your life—too deep for your own good. You didn't mind, you never knew why, it was slightly weird but you really couldn't care.

One evening, you found him standing outside your door, arms crossed, a look of mock irritation on his face. “You’re not just going to ignore my last prank, are you?”

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “What prank? I thought you just liked leaving me little gifts?”

He stepped closer, invading your personal space. “I do like leaving you gifts… but only if you remember who they’re from.”

You felt a teeny shiver run down your spine, but your playful nature pushed you to respond. “Oh, you mean like a restraining order? Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to need one." You retort back.

His laughter was rich and dangerous, and he leaned closer, whispering, “You really have no idea how much I care, do you? You’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. So, how about we skip the jokes and just enjoy each other’s company?” He says with a lazy smirk gracing his soft lips.

You actually freze, suddenly aware of just how serious he was. But before you could respond, he flashed that charming smile, and all your doubts faded into the background. After all, he was just your neighbor, right? A very huge fucking flirt too.

As you watched him walk away, the hint of something dark lingered in the air. You chuckled to yourself, dismissing the warning signs. “What a weirdo,” you muttered, still blissfully unaware of how deeply tangled you were in his affections.

But little did you know, in Gojo’s eyes, you were already his—forever.

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kaleldobrev · 3 months ago

Text

Prologue — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester & Unnamed Hunter Boyfriend (OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Warnings: Age Gap (15 years) & Self-Loathing Dean

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | Thoughts are in italics | Switches between reader & Dean's POV but it's still written in the second person | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

Dean sat on the edge of his bed looking at his surroundings that he hadn’t seen in so long. Although it’s only been a few months, it felt like an eternity to him. Everything was still in the exact same place he had left it; and he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved about that or not.

Being in his bedroom back in the Bunker came with a wide variety of emotions. He was happy to be back in a place that he had called home for the past several years, a place where he was finally able to have his own room again since he was four years old. But yet, there was another part of him that wanted to take his keys and drive off somewhere. He loved Sam, he loved Cas but, it was hard to face them again after everything he had done, and after everything he had put them through. Not only during the months he was gone, but during the short amount of time they were trying to cure him of a disease he strangely enjoyed.

“You weren’t you,” Sam had told him repeatedly as if he was a broken record. But Dean didn’t believe his words for a second. He enjoyed being a demon more than he liked to admit. Being able to kill whoever he wanted whenever he wanted without consequence fueled him. Being able to fuel the Mark was easy, being a demon was easy. Being a demon weirdly came natural to him.

Sitting at your desk, you endlessly scrolled through news story after news story, trying to find any excuse to leave your apartment, as it was a place that was currently not giving you the usual sense of peace it tended to provide you. Your apartment was usually your safe space, a place that you could relax and unwind in after a tough hunt. But ever since your boyfriend moved in, it had become a place that you no longer felt safe and calm in.

You and your boyfriend hadn't been together for that long — roughly a year — but during a majority of your relationship, it has been argument after argument, and the arguments were always about the same couple of things. He was either disrespecting you or upset that you didn't bring him along on one of your hunting trips.

He hadn't been a hunter for long — barely two years — and you met him within his first year. You had met him while on a werewolf case, as the two of you found the same lead and decided to work together since he really had no experience with werewolves. For some reason, the two of you clicked, and had been together ever since.

Whenever you and him tended to get into an argument, you wondered why you were still with him, knowing that you could do better. He didn't treat you right, and often undermined you in front of other hunters, sometimes taking credit for your own hunts. You tried to rationalize it, often saying that he was the best you were ever going to do because there was no way you could be with someone that wasn't a hunter, as you felt being with someone that wasn't one would put them in more harm, and you couldn't risk it. But the words of your mother started echoing in your head now, "It's better to be alone than to be with someone who disrespects you." You knew she was right; she was always right.

As you were about to give up, a news story finally jumped out at you, and it screamed poltergeist — your specialty.

Dean stared up at the ceiling, wanting more than anything to fall asleep; but the events of the last few months kept replaying in his head. "You weren't you," Sam's words repeated again and again.

No matter how many times Sam's words repeated, Dean still refused to believe it, as when he was a demon, he felt more like himself than he had been in such a long time; and that scared him.

The things that he did as a demon he would have done regardless; but the only reason he did the things that he did was because he knew there were no consequences, his conscience wasn't trying to stop him. Sam or Cas weren't there to stop him especially.

The Mark started itching again, getting hot with need. I need to kill something, he thought.

Getting off the phone with you, Sam sighed, looking at his slinged arm. There was no way he was going to be able to help you with this case, but it was far too late to call you back now; not after he already agreed to help you. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you, as you were a big help to him while Dean was gone.

Sam was impressed by you to say the least, as despite your age, you were a damn good hunter with a decent amount of experience under your belt. He hadn't known you for very long — meeting you within the last couple of months — but you had quickly become someone he had grown to deeply trust; and he was incredibly thankful for that, and thankful for you.

Placing his phone back into his pocket, he grabbed his duffel bag and started packing some of the essentials. The case you asked him to join you on was one that was pretty straightforward, so he assumed it wouldn't take more than a couple of days. That's when his mind started to wander, wondering why you had asked for his help in the first place, as poltergeists were one of your specialties and it was the type of case that you could do in your sleep, but yet, you asked him for help.

Closing up your laptop, you grabbed it bringing it over to your bed, before going underneath it and grabbing your duffel. You started packing all of the essentials for a case that would only take you a couple of days. The case was an easy one, one that you could easily do in your sleep, but yet, you called Sam Winchester to help you. There was a small twinge of regret after you got off the phone with him, and you debated back and forth as you packed to call him back up again and tell him, 'Never mind, I got this Sammy.' But deep down, you wanted the company; you wanted to be with someone that treated you like an equal unlike your boyfriend.

"Going on a case?" Your boyfriend asked from behind you.

You turned to look at him for a moment, and he was leaning against the doorway, staring at you as you packed. "Yes," you said, plainly. Even if you weren't going on a case, you felt like you didn't need to explain anything to him.

"Where's the case? I can join you," he offered. But his offer wasn't a genuine one, as the only reason he offered to go with you was to try and make up the argument to you in some way. But you weren't in the mood for any of his gestures.

"Tulsa," you said. "I already called another hunter to help me."

"What hunter?" He asked, making his way to the bed so he could sit down on the edge like he usually did whenever you were attempting to pack for a case.

You looked at him again, annoyed that he kept interrupting your packing. He didn't need to know what hunter was going with you, and he didn't know where the case was going to be. But yet, you felt like you needed to tell him in order to get him off your back. "Sam Winchester," you said simply, and you saw his eyes grow wide.

"Sam Winchester?" He questioned. "Really?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with Sam Winchester?" You asked, curious as to what he had to say about him, as you knew he had never met him. But there were times when you and him would be spending time with fellow hunters, and he would claim that he knew Sam; a bold statement that, whenever said, you tried to hold back a laugh.

“Nothing it’s just…the Winchester’s tend to get a lot of their partners killed,” he said. Your brows furrowed, not only because you were confused on where he heard that, but you’ve hunted with Sam a few times already, and your boyfriend never brought that up to you before.

“I’ve hunted with Sam a few times now, and I’m still alive,” you said, zippering up your duffel. “He’s a great hunting partner, very careful.”

“For now, you’re alive and for now he’s being careful. What happens when he bails on you to save himself?” Your boyfriend asked, his tone excitable now.

“I don’t know because I know for a fact that won’t happen,” your tone was serious and stern, defensive. Despite not knowing Sam for a long time, you trusted him more on hunts than your own boyfriend. “I trust Sam.”

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 1

#Dean Winchester x you #Dean Winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #dean x you #dean x reader #reader insert #female reader #the 15 year problem

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literaryvein-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Writing Notes: Subplots

Subplot - a side story that runs parallel to the main plot.

It has a secondary strand of characters and events that can infuse important information into the main storyline.

Also known as a minor story, a subplot creates a richer, more complex narrative arc in novel writing and other storytelling mediums.

When crafting a narrative, a writer’s job is to create a compelling story.

One way to do that is through subplots—secondary storylines found in novels, plays, television shows, and movies.

In creative writing, a subplot can reveal more about secondary characters, create plot twists, and add another dimension to a story.

Most importantly, a good subplot raises the stakes for a main character.

An Example: Romeo and Juliet

William Shakespeare weaves several subplots throughout this tragic love story.

The backstory of the long-running feud between rival families, the Capulets and Montagues, creates the central conflict in the play—two young lovers from warring families desperate to find a way to be together.

The subplots involving the warring families create dramatic plot points that escalate the tension, like when Romeo’s best friend Mercutio is killed by Juliet’s cousin Tybalt.

4 Types of Subplots

When coming up with writing ideas to enhance your main plot, think of using one or more subplots. These could include any of the following:

Mirror subplot: A smaller-scale conflict mirrors the main character’s in order to teach them a valuable lesson or illuminate how to resolve the conflict.

Contrasting subplot: A secondary character faces similar circumstances and dilemmas as the main character but makes different decisions with the opposite outcome.

Complicating subplot: A secondary character makes matters worse for the main character.

Romantic subplot: The main character has a love interest, and this relationship complicates the main plot.

6 Tips for Writing Better Subplots

When you’re writing a book, always brainstorm the best subplot ideas that can deepen the tension and make your main character’s scenario more complex.

Try these tips when you craft your next narrative:

Ensure that your subplots play second fiddle.

A subplot exists to support your main storyline but should never overpower it.

Subplots should end before the main plot.

The exception to this rule is a romantic subplot, which often concludes in the final scene.

Give your subplots a narrative arc.

Subplots are stories, too.

Create a narrative framework for each, though on a smaller scale than your main plot.

Use this technique to tell a supporting character’s story that affects the protagonist’s actions.

You might even incorporate flashbacks as a subplot, mirroring a character’s journey with something that happened in their earlier days, like high school.

Write character-driven subplots.

Just like your main story, characters should drive the action in a subplot.

Create foils that can highlight qualities in your main character.

These characters will either help or hinder the protagonist in the story.

Try a new POV.

Your subplot might provide information that your main character is unaware of.

If your main plot is told in first person, try changing the point of view in the subplot to third person.

Figure out how to connect the subplot and the main plot.

There are numerous ways to use subplots.

A parallel subplot runs throughout the entirety of the story, showing different sides of the same plot.

This builds suspense as the reader waits for the two plots to collide (think The Fugitive).

You can also write small, isolated subplots.

Briefly introduce a character who drops in early on, then revisit their journey near the end of the story to shed light on the deeper meaning of your main plot.

Ramp up the tension with a subplot.

Propel your main story with information revealed in your side stories.

Subplots are a strong medium for foreshadowing events, so use them to drop hints and clues.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

#plot #on writing #subplot #writing tips #writing advice #writeblr #writing reference #dark academia #spilled ink #literature #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #poets on tumblr #writing prompt #poetry #frank dicksee #writing resources

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myownwholewildworld · 3 months ago

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acta, non verba - i. a badge of honour

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. synopsis: scotland, 83 AD after the battle of mons graupius. the romans have come up to the boundaries of their empire with a relentless desire to conquer the savages that inhabit the highlands. they won't rest until the Caledonian tribes are subjugated. Marcus Acacius is in charge of your clansmen's fate, but if such fate is similar to your family's, you know you need to do something about it. as the only living daughter of the tribe chief, your people look to you for leadership. power plays, treason, deception, rebellion, war, love, heartbreak, betrayal. and two souls, destined to despise each other, trying to navigate it all. a/n: well, here it is! the first chapter of my new series, set in what is now scotland, during the romans' conquest of the british isles in the 1st century. hope you guys like it! as always, all interactions welcome. thank you so much for reading! <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. death, aftermath of a battle, burial of family members. reader is an original character - female, has a name (callie) and a physical description, family history, etc. i'll try to keep the references to a minimum though. age gap (callie is 26, marcus is 48). mention of infidelity and becoming a widow. marcus’ and reader’s pov. i have taken some historical licenses for ease of writing (use of "clan" as synonym for "tribe", references to irish/celtic gods, the caledonian people speak modern scottish gaelic instead of a (proto-)brittonic language). w/c: ~4.2k. dividers by @saradika-graphics i'll be tagging some people at the end of the chapter who interacted with this post. dw, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you ask me to! also, if you want to be removed from this post, please send me a dm.

A light breeze whistled through the nearby standing stones. The dying sun provided no heat, and the ethereal landscape was cold with hues of blue and grey. Despite the shimmering wildlife that came with the first hints of spring, the meadow was uncannily silent.

The crows cackling in the distance broke such tranquil peace and woke you from your slumber.

Slowly you blinked, something wet and warm covering your eyelids. You felt it slide down your skin, pooling in the dip of your collarbone. Your limbs felt so heavy, you couldn’t lift a hand to rub your eyes clean. In fact, you were so tired that even taking a deep breath hurt.

Your orbs fluttered shut, shattered and defeated.

Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, was calling you to His side. His presence was soothing, so inviting, the most melodic sounds guiding you to Him. With the eyes of your dying imagination, He extended a welcoming hand towards you, a soft smile on His mythical features.

“Come with me, sweet child of the tribes.” A guttural voice escaped His lips, so dark and sombre it enveloped you.

You nodded, gaze down, submitted to Him.

“You can’t just take her, Dhuosnos. Callie is yet to avenge them — her purpose must be fulfilled first before she can greet you as an equal.” A second voice, feminine, otherworldly and reassuring, interrupted your exchange.

Morrígan, Goddess of War, placed Her hand on Dhuosnos’ forearm as to stop Him from reaching you. A stone of relief, but also of disappointment, sat low in your stomach when He took a step back, head bowed towards Her.

Steadily you undid your curtsy, your green eyes locking on Hers. They were black as the night sky, Her pupils and irises indistinguishable from one another. You looked into the abyss of Her sight and felt a deep-rooted longing, one you never experienced before.

“You are not done yet, mo leanabh (my child). Your people await your return.” Morrígan palmed your trembling hand, escorting you back to the earthly plane.

“But…”, you turned around to look at Her, ask for Her advice.

But She had already vanished, a sweet scent of lavander left behind.

You gasped awake, your eyes so widened, the cloudy, sunset sky above felt like it was crashing down on you. You were laying down on a pool of mud. A deep, raspy grunt escaped your lungs as you tried to move your arms. When you couldn’t, you looked down, confused.

Aengus’ lifeless body was resting on top of yours. Your father’s henchman had made the ultimate sacrifice by hiding you underneath him, away from the prying eyes of the Romans. The dense liquid caressing the skin on your face was none other than his blood. A trickle of thick red dripped from the gnarly wound in his neck on to your cheek. His eyes were staring at you emptily, his soul had already left this world when you regained consciousness.

Your father, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis, the Caledonian Overlord, had come to the aid of the Taexalian Overlord, whose territory was succumbing to the legions of Gnaeus Julius Agricola, a Roman governor with a high desire to impress his Emperor, Titus Flavius Domitianus.

Your father had gathered as many fighers as the Caledonian lands could give him. Both men and women were called to arms when the tribes were threatened. Being the daughter of the Chieftain would not spare you. You would not have chosen differently anyway, had you been given the opportunity. Fighting for land, clan and honour was your duty as much as your brothers’ and sister’s.

The journey from Inbhir Nis (Inverness) to Cala na Creige (Stonehaven) had been unforgiving, with illness and evil lying in wait. But you all had been warmly welcomed by the Taexali tribe and were fed copiously, the uisge-beatha (whisky) being served like water.

Your combined armies, shy of fifteen thousand folk, had been ambushed at Raedykes during a repositioning exercise by the Roman troops led by Agricola’s most trusted man.

General Marcus Acacius.

His mere name made you sick, anger crawling under your skin.

Fighting off your own opponents, you had seen the Roman General charge against your father like a beast, wielding a gladius over his head. The metallic impact of their swords rang loud across the landscape. The men looked into each other’s souls, an exchange of words shared between them. You were too far to listen, too far to fully see what was really happening as warriors from both sides danced through the grass.

Then you foresaw it before it happened: the heavy Roman sword fell on your father, who was struck to his knees with the General’s blade lodged in his belly.

You tried to get to him, screaming “Athair (father)!” at the top of your lungs. His eyes locked on yours before he fell sideways. You lunged forward but didn’t get to him, Aengus stopping you in your tracks.

“No, Callie, it’s too late now”, he had sorrowfully whispered in your ear before throwing you off to one side to fend off an attacker.

And then blackness swallowed you, an enemy hit you in the head so hard you lost consciousness.

That was how you came to be where you were — with your back flat on the silt and Aengus’ body blanketing yours. The grey sky above you sensed your pain, and, at Taranis’ command, it parted in the middle. The God of Thunder released a downpour to clean the blood, soot and woad’s blue dye off your face and hair.

You cried your sadness away, rainy tears sliding off the corners of your eyes — your anger, your loss, your torment, you purged it all, sobbing until you were devoid of all emotion. Taking a deep breath, which caused a needling pain on your ribs, you pushed Aengus to one side to free yourself from his weight.

The thudding sound he made almost brought more tears to your eyes.

“Sorry, uncail (uncle)”, you muttered, hovering your fingertips over his eyelids to shut them for him. Now he could finally rest.

You stood up, your knees trembling like a newborn calf. A searing pain stabbed your skull, dried blood and dirt gathering on the wound on your scalp. With a straight back, you dared to look around you. The bodies of your own men and women were scattered around the hills of Raedykes. So many lives lost, you heard all your ancestors screaming from above, their cries falling upon you in the way of rain. The green, long grass was reddened with blood, but the weeping sky had started to wash away the atrocities committed by the Romans.

Then you saw him. Your athair.

“No, no, please, no...”, you whispered as your sight became blurry again, dragging your feet towards the fallen body of your dad.

Your soul tried to tear itself apart, become its own entity. You had to summon the last drop of the royal blood that ran through your veins to keep yourself in one piece. You knelt before him, craddling his bloody hand between yours. Unconciously your body rocked back and forth until you hugged him, laying flat on top of him.

Time stood still, like a thread on the expert hands of a wool weaver. It could have been minutes, hours or days, your pain too great to bear, to comprehend.

And then you felt a hand lightly tap your shoulder.

You startled, your mind and body jumping back into survival mode, gripping your sgian-dubh (small knife) close to your chest.

“It’s okay, mo phiuthar (my sister). It’s me, Torcall”, a raspy, masculine voice forced you to focus on the man in front of you.

He was your father’s most important tacksman and also husband to your older sister Mairead — your sweet Maisie, as you always called her. She was the eldest of the four siblings while you were the youngest. Always so witty and quick with a joke, Maisie kept up the spirits even when the circumstances were dire — in fact, before your paths had parted during the battle, she jested about your H-shaped shield being larger than you.

When you turned around, Torcall flattened his hands on your shoulders, slightly shaking you so you would come back to reality.

His blue eyes pierced through you, the situation becoming clearer in your mind. Thousands of your tribesmen were dead. Your father too.

“Maisie?”, you asked in a hush. Your heart clenched when your brother-in-law shook his head no. You were afraid to speak, but you did nonetheless. “Aodh and Somhairle?”

Torcall stared at you, his silence speaking loudly. “They are all dead.”

The air evacuated your lungs, feeling as if a spear had run through you. Learning about the death of Maisie and your twin brothers broke something within you, something fundamental and primal. They were your everything, your most trusted confidants. Despite being of different ages, you all were so tight-knit it was difficult to find one of you alone.

A heart-shattering wail escaped your lips as you bent over yourself, your chest snug against your knees.

Morrígan had unashamedly claimed most of your family that day, except for your beautiful mother. Now Her words made sense: you were yet to avenge them, to fulfil your purpose. She had spared you for a reason, not so you could pity yourself, knees deep in the mud.

To avenge them, you had to kill the hand who showered this tragedy upon you.

General Marcus Acacius.

A raven’s strident, gurgling croak forced you to look up to the skies — a subtle reminder that Morrígan was watching closely. The massive bird was circling above your heads, like a vulture waiting to feast on a carcass. With resolution, you wiped away your tears, your sobs now silent, and nodded at Torcall.

“I understand. How many…?”, your voice faltered before you could finish your question.

“A couple of thousands. We have found cover in the Dunnottar Woods while we regroup and… bury our dead.” Torcall replied, his eyes averted with the last sentence.

You had lost a sister, but he had lost a wife, the mother to his now half-orphaned children. “I’m sorry”, you muttered, your lips pouting once more.

“She died fighting, the death of a warrior.” His proud voice did not waver. “And your father?”

Your heart wept at his mention but managed to control the anxious fluttering.

“The General killed him.” Your teeth gritted with hatred.

“Mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)”, one of your father’s retinue members bowed his head to you once you walked into the circle they had formed in a meadow between the trees.

A few dozen men were scattered around the area, fires lighting the dark night while shades of red and orange flickered, creating fiery, dancing shades. You held a torch and carefully waved it in front of you, looking at the faces who watched you back eagerly.

You saw in your men what was brewing inside you: despair, defeat, sorrow. All your souls grieving in unison — all of you had lost someone that day.

At six and twenty, you did not expect to be in this position. You were the youngest daughter of the Overlord — you were never meant to lead your people. The task ahead of you felt titanic, unachievable.

But you had no other option. General Marcus Acacius had forced your hand.

He came, he saw, he conquered.

And now you had to deal with the gut-wrenching outcome of his departure.

“We’ll go back home to Inbhir Nis. But before that, we must give burial to our people.” You had to make a herculean effort to infuse your tone with steadiness.

Torcall first, and then the rest, bowed their heads to you.

“As you command, mo bana-phrionnsa”, he replied, and quickly barked orders around in your stead.

Your chest felt heavy with responsibility and grief. What pained you the most was not being able to carry your brothers and sister with you back home. They would not be buried under the cairns near you family home with the rest of your ancestors.

And what was worst — thousands of lives now depended on you. The weight of your tribe's destiny heavily rested on your shoulders now, like Atlas carrying the heavens.

Maisie, Aodh and Somhairle had been lined up on a patch of wildflowers that you had picked yourself the night prior — their arms were threaded together with your sister in the middle. Your clansmen had also surrounded the makeshift burial pit with wood to aid the combustion.

As you placed the last stone on top of them, you also deposited a bright, bloomed thistle. The flower that blossomed in every nook and cranny of your beautiful motherland, despite the harsh winter or conditions it faced. Like the phoenix rising from the ashes, it would always come back, stronger and more brightful than ever.

Devotion, bravery, determination, and strength — the thistle was a badge of honour for the Caledonians.

With a renewed brawn unbeknownst to you, you threw the lighted torch and watched as the fire consumed the bodies underneath the stones.

There were no tears left within you. Only purpose and resolution.

The way back to Inbhir Nis was tiring and soul-crushing. Hiking through the Cairngorms had been a difficult task with so many people behind you, but luckily you all managed to make it through without any losses.

With each mile covered, you saw the devastation left behind by the Romans. If this was any indication of what awaited ahead, you should start bracing yourself for what you would see. It seemed that the Romans were set towards the northwest — Inbhir Nis was right in their path.

You quickly recognised the landscape as you walked towards Loch Moy. A thick, dark column of smoke towered above the pine trees. Your heart raced as you picked up your dark green skirt and ran towards the loch, ignoring the calls of your brother-in-law.

You could run through those woods blindly — this was the land where you were born, the land you were named after. Your name was an unusual one — Caledonia, in honour of the earth beneath your rushing feet. Just a few people called you Callie, mainly your family and closest friends. With your bright, fiery red hair, green almond eyes and a face dotted with freckles, you were the epitome of your people. That was probably why when someone new learned your name, they always said it suited you.

Dodging the last few trees, you made it to the edge of the loch. In the shallows, the crannog of Naimh, your community’s healer, was burning down to its foundation. You covered your mouth with a sombre expression, your eyes itchy because of the dense smoke and unspent tears.

The Romans had gotten to your settlement before you did.

“Callie, wait up”, said Torcall behind you, struggling to catch up with you.

He halted right behind you, the silence between you was almost tangible.

“The rangers have returned from their reconnaissance mission.” His voice was plain, contained. You turned your heard towards him, slowly, hardening yourself for his next words. “Your mother is dead.”

The last glimmer of hope within you vanished. A single tear skidded through your cheek — angrily, you wiped it off.

You were alone in this world. Everyone you cared for had been taken from you.

“Is everything to your liking, Dominus (Master)?”, the male roman servant asked in a low hush, head bowed, eyes fixed on the cobblestone.

“Yes, now leave”, Marcus dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The General looked around him with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. He was accustomed to much more elegant surroundings. Although the barbarians did try, their architecture was nothing in comparison to Rome’s.

The castle he was in was small and it only had two floors. It was mainly made of sturdy, grey rocks and dark wood. The design was not very sophisticated, all square and rugged edges. It had two towers and a barbican. The decoration inside was bare, with just enough furniture and no luxuries.

The only warmth was brought by the colourful tapestries adorning the cold, thick walls — one had caught Marcus' attention at his arrival when he first entered the dais. It told a story he had not heard before.

A dragon-like figure lurked beneath the rippling surface of a lake, attracting the attention of the villagers. At dusk it would emerge, a guttural sound echoing in the dead of night, as if it was calling another. Any bìrlinns (wooden vessel) left on the shore would appear destroyed the next morning. Fishermen were worried and called upon the town's druids, afraid of the Loch Ness monster. To appease the beast, every full moon, the druids would whorship the creature, bringing oblations and sacrificies to quench its thirst.

Marcus made a mental note of keeping his distance from that Loch Ness. As a devoted Roman, he was wary of the mystic creatures that skulked in the depths of human fear.

Although he missed his home, he had several debts to pay. The Emperor would not accept no for an answer, so he had to be a reluctant participant in this incursion — in fact, neither Domitian nor Agricola had really asked him to tame the highlanders up in Caledonia. They knew his skills would be most needed in combat, having been praised by bards and poets alike after his many years in the battlefield.

At eight and forty, Marcus Acacius had had his good share of tragedy and death, both personal and in war. His life had not been easy, having to forge a name of his own since childbirth and then having been recently betrayed by his own spouse.

The thought of Livia still angered him — she had had the audacity of blaming him for her infidelity, accusing him of always being away, of loving Rome more than his own family. Her cheating had been going on for as many years as their arranged marriage, throwing a doubtful shade on his paternity to both his children.

His life had come crumbling down in the last few months, so maybe coming to Britannia had not been such a bad idea. Female adultery was a crime penalised with death and that was a decision that Marcus had yet to make — outing Livia’s unfaithfulness would condemn her to Pluto's realm. Did he really want that for who had been his wife for more than thirty years?

Pinching the bridge of his hooked nose, Marcus walked towards the only window in the room. The roman took a deep breath and exhaled steadily — he needed to think of something else.

His mind went back to the battle of Mons Graupius. The spilling of blood never became easier with time — if anything, it had become harder, splintering his soul further. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the piercing, pained shriek of a woman as he imparted death on Murdoch of Inbhir Nis.

Her hair was dyed with black soot and tied back, her face covered in a blue paste and ash. He was too far to catch the colour of her eyes, but he thought them dark azure. The fierceness of her expression took him aback, her voice shouting a word he did not recognise. But his eyes did not have time to linger on the feral woman a few yards away, because a savage attacked him.

His hand stilled on the rocky window’s sill. The barbarians called this place Inbhir Nis. The stone castle was that of the chief’s family, atop of a hill with views to the scenery underneath. It was rudimentary and lacked many commodities — nothing comparable to his villa in Rome. The tribal settlement was formed of huts made of stone, timber and hay.

Agricola had decided to burn down the outskirts of the town and killed the wife of the clan chief making a macabre example of her, so the people would submit to the Roman’s yoke quickly, crushing any opportunity of rebellion. The message was clear: Rome would not tolerate being challenged. Anyone who did, would face the most painful of deaths. The governor left to go northward, leaving Marcus behind to rebuild the area to Rome’s standards. The emperor had deemed the location an important enclave for his empire, being the main town in the Moray Firth.

Marcus was standing in what he thought was the bedchamber of Murdoch. With the Overlord and his family alienated, the primitive people of the highlands needed educating and he had been given the task of doing so. Not a welcomed one, but he had a duty to Rome that had to be fulfilled.

With a heavy sigh, he undid the brooch at the base of his neck, relieving himself of the heavy, white sagum (cape) that was part of his attire. He threw it on the uncomfortable bed. He unfastened the golden, laurel-shaped bracelets around his wrists, and then proceeded to undo the tight knots that held his armour in place.

Then a knock on the thick, wooden door broke the silence of the room.

“Come in”, thinking it would be his male servant, he didn’t turn around.

“Dominus, dinner is ready”, a very soft voice with a very marked accent made him look over his shoulder.

A pair of very bright, almond-shaped, emerald-green eyes locked on his, framed by what he would describe as fire hair — so red it looked like a hellish aura crowning your head.

So bright were your eyes, he almost felt his soul being examined by your hypnotising gaze. Marcus had never seen eyes like those.

How dared he stand where your father did? Anger shimmered under your skin, but you kept it in check. When you realised you were holding his gaze for longer than what was appropriate for a servant girl, you averted your eyes, inspecting the stones under your feet.

Torcall called you mad for doing this, but you had made up your mind. If you really wanted to overthrow the Roman General and win back your family’s castle and land, you would need to sew yourself into his everyday life. Gain his trust, learn his secrets and use that information against him. Your people were counting on you for freedom, and you would not allow yourself to disappoint them. Even if it was the last thing you did.

“Who are you?”, his raspy voice filled the atmosphere as he resumed the task of undoing the ties on his armour.

Did he have no shame, undressing himself in front of a maid? Mind you, you were not an innocent servant, having been widowed recently. But still. The romans had no modesty, you assumed.

You had to think quickly. You had learnt that the governor and the general both thought the whole chief’s family dead, so you could not out yourself. A very few, selected people called you Callie, almost always in the intimacy of your home, when strangers were not around. Your nickname was precious to you because it was only used by those you loved.

“My name is Callie, Dominus”, you offered your nickname in a rusty Latin. It had been a while since you had to use a language that was not your native one.

“Callie.” The way your name rolled off his tongue gave you goosebumps. You didn’t like the way he pronounced it — it lingered in his mouth for too long, dragging each letter. You wished your words back, but you couldn't change it now.

Instead of clenching your jaw, you nodded. “Yes, my lord, I’m one of the servant girls who tended to the clan chief’s family before you.” You explained, your head still bowed.

You ventured your eyes up for a second, catching a glimpse of his naked torso. Unconsciously, you pursed your lips. The way your heart pounded loud for that one second made you furrow your brows in confusion.

He might be a gorgeous man, but he was a killer. And you had no taste for soulless murderers, that much you knew about yourself.

“Call my attendant, Atticus, to help me get ready for supper. I have no need of you. And ask the kitchen staff to heat some water and bring it up here.” His tone was emphatic, unwavering.

His rejection, in other circumstances, would have been most welcomed, but you needed him to trust you, to confide in you so you could plot his demise — to destroy him. This was not a good start to your plan, but you needed to play the long game.

“I could certainly help you with a bath now, Dominus, but your wish is my command.” You forced the words out, when in reality you wanted to spit them to his murderous face.

He just nodded in your direction, his movements stiff and measured. “Just my attendant will suffice, now go.”

With your fingers laced on your back, you curtsied, walking backwards towards the door of your father’s bedchamber. You could not seem too eager, or he would become suspicious.

When you were in the corridor with the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath and straightened your back.

You would not take no for an answer. Marcus Acacius would yield to you, whatever the cost.

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romchat · 3 months ago

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The Time of Fever (Ep. 1-3) visual analysis: The Metamorphosis

Ho-tae: "I woke up to find myself transformed into a monstrous insect, lying in bed"...What is this? A story about a guy turning into a bug? Dong-hee: If I turned into a bug one day, would I still be Kim Dong-hee or just a bug?

From this piece of dialogue and the cinematography alone I know The Time of Fever is going to cause me a lot of pain. The only way to describe its style is palpable.

The moment our two main characters, Kim Dong-hee and Go Ho-tae, appear together, we can see the friction and unnamed longing between them.

Notice how often the first episode uses shots with three distinct compositional layers to provide depth and complexity to the relationships portrayed on screen:

In most of these shots, the composition places Dong-hee in the background with Ho-tae on another layer completely--they're distant and never quite aligned on what they want out of the relationship. Despite how these two characters were brought together by their mothers' friendship--I love how the second screenshot uses their bodies in the foreground to frame Dong-hee and Ho-tae--it's that very connection that also creates a wall between them. Although Ho-tae is excited about rekindling their friendship after moving away two years prior, Dong-hee doesn't want to betray his aunt's trust by admitting his romantic feelings for him.

And so he recedes into the background, alone and inscrutable.

The fact that Dong-hee also compares himself to Gregor from Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis hits like a sucker punch.

Like Gregor, Dong-hee lives a sort of transient and almost functionalist lifestyle. After being kicked out of his home by his abusive father, he focuses on his school work and trying to get by. He is isolated and his queer awakening only makes him feel more disoriented and misunderstood--he feels like Gregor in his insect form.

And yet we still see moments where he allows himself to yearn for something more and how Ho-tae begins to do the same.

(Side Note: I love love love the show's use of backlighting to highlight the lines of the actors' bodies. It's so simple but intimate and erotic as if the camera is acting like Dong-hee's artist-eye trying to memorize Ho-tae's muscular beauty.)

One of my favorite stylistic choices of The Time of Fever is how it uses close-ups to represent the characters' subjective POV and desire.

Like Dong-hee's sketches, these shots are the fragments of everyday life that are so small yet feel oh so significant while on the path towards self-discovery.

They're gloriously tactile, the shallow depth of field eliminating extraneous detail, allowing us to experience the heady excitement of accidentally grazing your crush's skin or looking into their eyes during a rainstorm.

I don't think I've seen desire that achingly displayed in a hot minute.

And so it makes sense that as Ho-tae begins to undergo his own metamorphosis and understand his own feelings, we see more and more visual parallelism in how their desire manifests.

(Side Note: The second screenshot above is such a gorgeous shot. That inky black negative space not only showcases Ho-tae's gaze at Dong-hee's lips but also his reaction to the realization that hits him. Great 2 for 1.)

I can't wait to see what visual storytelling the next three episodes bring.

#the time of fever #내 손끝에 너의 온도가 닿을 때 #time of fever #unintentional love story #korean bl #bl drama #kdrama #meta #cinematography

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cobrakaisb · 4 months ago

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humid summer

summary: summer rolls around, and for the first time in two years you find yourself outside the borders of camp half-blood but how long can you keep pretending to be a normal cruise guest on the princess andromeda?

featuring: BOOK SPOILERS (from here on out), multiple povs (reader, percy, and annabeth), plus more of reader and annabeth’s relationship, oh also angst

word count: 2.7k

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next

the summer heat combined with the florida humidity is stifling. you feel like you’re boiling in a pot of soup, as opposed to lounging on the pool deck of a cruise ship. even the ocean breeze does little to quell the heat. you almost feel bad for the other demigods — who you know are training on a deck somewhere on the princess andromeda — but you can’t bring yourself to that point. not when you, chris, and katrina offered for them to ditch too.

“how long do you plan on tanning for?” someone asks, and you recognize the voice as your boyfriend’s.

“until the sun goes down,” you answer, holding a hand up to your forehead as you give him a once over.

it is obvious that he hasn’t been training, not in khaki pants and a light blue polo, but he still has his sword hanging from a sheath around his waist. his arms are crossed over his chest, and he shoots you a disapproving glare. yet, all you can focus on are his muscles.

“you’re gonna get a farmer's tan, dude,” chris jeers, eliciting snickers from you and katrina.

“oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” katrina teases, elbowing your side as you get up from your lounger and walk towards luke.

you lift up your shades, pushing them to the top of your head and smile softly at him. you’re trying your best to be apologetic, or at least seem apologetic, but you’re sure it isn’t working. your eyes flicker across luke’s supposedly serious gaze, but you can see the humor swirling in his eyes.

“you’re not mad are you? we were really just taking a break,” you explain, a soft pout on your lips to try and sell your story.

luke raises an eyebrow along with the corner of his mouth, and while you know he doesn’t believe you, he doesn’t provide a lecture or try to contradict your words. it’s clear to all the demigods on the princess andromeda that while you’ve aligned yourself with them — with his cause — your loyalties lie in the palm of his hands, a sentiment which isn’t lost on luke either. he has the ability to cradle it or squash it like a bug. there is no inbetween. yet, he continues to push his luck.

even now as you laugh poolside with chris and katrina with his firm hand resting on your hip, he knows that you’d slip away from him if you knew what was going on in the brig. if you knew who was there and what he’d done to lure them right into his clutches, you’d flee.

he clears his throat, demanding your attention. only when all three pairs of eyes are on him does he muster up the courage to actually be a leader: “i better see the three of you at training later, otherwise you can kiss those free nights goodbye.”

luke squeezes your hip once more before departing, walking back down the hallway he originally came from.

*****

the continuous rocking back and forth is starting to get to percy. with each sway of the large cruise ship, he can feel the insides of his stomach turning. the sounds of the waves crashing against the strong hull should be calming, soothing even, yet they only increase his feelings of nausea.

“don’t tell me you’re seasick, seaweed brain?” annabeth snaps, but there is a hint of sympathy behind her cold words.

“ugh as if,” he answers, but promptly squints his eyes after a particularly large jolt.

“i knew this was too good to be true,” he mumbles, leaning his sweaty forehead against the cool metal bars in hope of some relief.

“it wouldn’t be if you’d just accepted my offer. it’d make things a lot easier for the both of us,” another voice chimes in.

percy opens his eyes, immediately reaching for the ballpoint pen residing in his pocket. he can’t help but stare at the older boy, the person he once called a friend, with nothing but resentment and hatred. luke is leaning casually against the wall across from their holding cell. his arms are crossed, sword sheathed, and he looks like he has all the time in the world. there even seems to be a flicker of annoyance in his brown eyes.

“we both know things could be much easier. right percy?” luke continues, but he doesn’t make any moves or even reach for his sword.

“what are you doing here?” percy asks, mustering up enough strength to stand from the floor of their cell.

luke chuckles, shaking his head back and forth with a small tsk. “c’mon percy, you’re smarter than that. i bet even annabeth has this figured out. isn’t that right banana?”

“don’t call me that,” annabeth growls, fists clenched at her sides.

percy watches their interaction, an intense stare down. he’s only even seen luke partake in one, and he remembers how luke was the first to recede. you’re the only person who luke allowed to bully him into getting your way, and annabeth must remember that as well as she turns away from the boy she once called a brother. percy looks at annabeth, asking her a silent question, but she doesn’t even acknowledge him, simply keeping her gaze locked on a questionable stain on the floor.

“hmm, guess not. makes this even more entertaining,” luke says, stepping away from the wall and towards their cell.

percy doesn’t hesitate this time, swiftly lifting the cap off his pen with the flick of his thumb. his sword appears in his hands, and he grips the hilt so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

luke holds his hands up in surrender, “no need for violence, percy. i haven’t even gotten a chance to speak yet.”

“really? cause you’ve been doing all the talking,” percy snaps, his eyes never leaving luke’s figure as he searches for any impending danger.

luke chuckles again, but it’s humorless. his eyes turn back to percy lacking any and all warmth. with a clenched jaw, luke looks him up and down. percy feels his breath hitch in his throat; he remembers all too well the last time he fought luke. he also remembers that he has more training under his belt than he did a year ago.

“i’ll be honest with you percy, because i think we owe that to each other. i know my dad sent you here, hoping you’d convince me to change my mind, but it’s not going to work. we both know that,” luke starts.

“you, on the other hand, still have time to join me. percy, join us and all will be forgiven,” he finishes, extending his hand to percy.

percy stares at it, and without a second thought spits at the older boy.

luke grimaces, wiping the saliva on his white linen shirt. “well then.”

he turns to walk away, leaving the two teens and their cyclops companion behind, but he stops suddenly. his black curls bounce as he whips his head around over his shoulder, brown eyes meeting annabeth’s watery gaze: “i’ve done a lot of things, banana, but associating with a cyclops isn’t one of them.” and then he’s gone.

*****

the training room is already packed when you and katrina arrive. although a majority of the space is taken up by demigods, you can see some monsters hanging around the outskirts of the crowd. their presence is looming, much like their size, and you nervously adjust the bowstring strapped around your upper body. it feels like it’s choking you, a sensation only amplified by the lump in your throat. try as you might, you can’t seem to swallow it down, and it only worsens as other demigods focus their attention on you. while katrina leads you through the crowd towards chris, their whispers echo in your ears. it’s giving you deja vu.

you blink, and you’re back at camp half-blood. the dining pavilion is silent as you walk behind luke, weaving in and out of tables to get to cabin eleven’s. they’re trying to be subtle, quiet even, but their voices are much louder than intended. not to mention, all their eyes are on you, making it fairly obvious who their target is. a young girl turns to her friend, whispering something in her ear while making direct eye contact with you. you hear every word.

“and she gets to skip morning training for a pool day. like how is that fair?” an auburn haired girl whispers not-so-quietly to her friend.

your gaze snaps towards her, lip curled in a sneer. her blue eyes widen when they meet your anger-filled irises. she takes in a shaky breath followed by a cautious step back. after giving her a once over, you recognize her as holland, a fifteen year old daughter of athena.

luke’s hand grips your shoulder roughly, pulling you along before the situation can escalate despite your incessant protests that you can handle yourself and this girl. he’s not here to do that this time though.

“remind me again, holland, how many bullseyes you’ve hit? oh that’s right, none because you can’t even keep the arrows in the quiver, much less on target,” you ridicule.

her eyes gloss over and bottom lip trembles, yet she still manages a comeback: “i’m just confused as to why luke’s girlfriend gets special privileges.”

the silence in the room is loud. everyone was already eavesdropping, but now it’s blatantly clear; you can hear a pin drop. your nostrils flare at her words, and you straighten your spine. scanning over the crowd of demigods and monsters alike, all their eyes ask the same question: what’s your next move?

“is that what you all think?” you ask rhetorically.

“well, let’s put those theories to rest,” you continue, marching to the front of the room.

silently, and with hundreds of eyes watching, you remove your bow from your shoulders. the quiver filled with a dozen arrows brushes against your right thigh as you remove one. the wooden shaft is light and pliable in your hands; if you weren’t so determined to make holland eat her words it’d probably be snapped in half. you load the arrow, inhaling as you pull back the string. on the exhale, you release; a perfect bullseye.

“let’s see if i can beat holland’s record,” you taunt, already loading up for your second shot on the second target.

it’s bullseye after bullseye, and the silence in the room only gets heavier with each shot. finally, you run out of arrows and targets. you turn on your heel, facing the crowd. it’s arrogant, but you bend over into a deep bow with your eyes focused on holland’s blue ones.

“once you can do that, holland, you can skip morning training too,” and with that, you walk out the door.

you barely make it three steps before someone stops you. it’s luke; you can tell by the way he holds your bicep, firm yet delicate, and the rough calluses on his palm. you shrug, easily wiggling out of his grasp. his eyes are burning a hole in your head, but you refuse to meet his gaze, keeping yours locked on the vast horizon.

“what was that?” he asks, voice gruff.

“your army is getting cocky. someone had to put them in check,” you snap, crossing your arms now.

he scoffs, stepping beside you with his body turned so that he’s looking at you. he waits patiently for you to acknowledge him, but you don’t. the waves rippling out on the ocean are much more entertaining.

“maybe they know they’re on the winning side,” he replies, voice oozing confidence.

you’re silent.

“and i think you need to remember that too,” he continues, walking away.

“really? cause it feels a lot like camp. if i wanted to be judged, i would’ve just stayed there. i thought my boyfriend, camp half-blood’s golden boy, would understand,” you say.

luke freezes, but he doesn’t turn around. “then go back there,” he mumbles, opening the door to the training room.

you blink, registering his monotone voice and hurtful words. maybe i will, you think.

and yet, you still end up falling asleep next to him that night. whispering apologies to each other in between kisses and tangled limbs.

*****

percy promised himself that he would never see the princess andromeda again. turns out promises are meant to be broken. he thinks you might be starting to realize that too.

“and poisoning thalia’s tree was just the beginning,” luke confirms, standing across from percy.

sword at the ready, percy waits for luke to make the first move. his eyes flicker over to you, and he’s stunned by your confused expression. it’s clear that luke is the mastermind here, but percy always assumed it was more of a co-parenting situation with heavy emphasis on your involvement in the child’s — luke’s plans to restore the golden age — life. it appears, however, that he was wrong.

“thwarted again luke. the golden fleece is already on its way back to camp. i guess clarisse can be good for something,” percy taunts, but he’s just buying time.

annabeth already has an iris message queued up, broadcasting his conversation with luke to the entirety of camp half-blood. percy’s sure that he’s never beating those seaweed brain allegations, not when he’s so obviously struggling to bait luke. yet, the older brunette clenches his jaw at percy’s words, anger flashing in his eyes.

“kronos was right. i should’ve killed you when i had the chance,” luke yells, before going on offense.

percy throws a quick, albeit sloppy, parry. luke grunts, and percy thinks that playing dodgeball with joe bob and his laistrygonian siblings at meriwether college prep really paid off. for one, it definitely made him stronger. and two, he was able to deal with all the chaos of the party ponies around him, much like he was able to win that final dodgeball game.

in between percy fighting off luke, and the ponies demolishing anything in their sight, annabeth and grover get cornered. percy can see them, backs literally against a wall, as a hellhound growls in annabeth’s face. it’s not afraid of her dagger, and grover’s pipes aren’t doing anything to help the situation. percy turns, ready to jump in and leave his side quest with luke behind, (he’s sure there will be other opportunities), but he doesn’t need to.

*****

you know it’s wrong. somebody from kronos’s army should not be protecting the so-called enemy, but you can’t help it. annabeth is the little sister you never had, and even if she doesn’t see you in that light anymore, you refuse to stand by and watch her get hurt.

you whistle, and the hellhound fixes its beady red eyes on you. it probably expects you to run or cower in fear, but it only takes one swipe of your knife to turn him to golden ash. now, there’s nothing standing between the three of you.

annabeth steps forward, her gray eyes cold and calculating as she tries to determine your ulterior motive. you never once break her stare, even though your chest is heaving, and you feel like passing out from all the new information you received today.

“i swear i had no idea,” you say, voice breathless.

annabeth’s gaze softens slightly, and you only know that because you know her so well. you can’t imagine that she believes you; you wouldn’t believe yourself. yet, there are only three people who have seen your true colors, the person buried underneath the mask of hera’s daughter, and annabeth is one of them. unlike grover, annabeth can detect the hurt in your voice. she sees the disappointment in your eyes, and that proves she can trust you.

“leave with the ponies. i’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you,” you instruct.

on her nod, you turn away, heading back into the craziness of the party ponies to stop a red boxing glove from punching out ethan nakamura. she pats grover’s shoulder, leading him towards a less congested area, and waits for their chance to slip out.

true to your word, luke doesn’t follow them home.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo@hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @maraschinocherry3 @used2beeeeee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcilla @obxstiles @dracoslovergirl @vanessa-rafesgirl @l1a-pjosversion @vikimontethegirlblogger

#luke castellan #pjo luke #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst #pjo #all american bitch series #cobrakaisb writing

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