#but well i will not pass on an opportunity to comment as an observer of fandom

[mihai-florescu]

From the drafts, thoughts about enst. Lalala

You know what Matrix reminds me of? Beasts. Baby's first introduction to experiencing and opposing racism, respectively transphobia. And yet they are unfortunately needed considering the audience (clunky as they are, i'd be happy if they make people reconsider internalized beliefs they hadn't been aware of). The western fandom likes to think themselves superior but im gonna be honest, while the lessons are very much obvious, i still see racist and transphobic remarks even from people who think themselves above it, without even realizing it. Once you deem yourself unable to commit "the worst things morally" you stop questioning your capacity to internalize and perpetuate harmful beliefs. Because "only bad people think or do that" - it is such an incorrect way to view things, morality, life. "Those are things a bad person does and I am good, therefore I can't do it. Also bad people can't have any good traits." is a sentiment all to common seen in online fandom spaces, a result of black and white thinking, that stuns growth and stops discussions rather than solve anything.

At the same time, the writing itself is not above criticism and conversations could and should be had. Ive seen and had some great talks recently. I just wish people would understand the very basic depiction=/=endorsement before jumping in, or that good and bad parts can coexist, and above all, looking at it as a piece of fiction that functions as such (What is it trying to convey? How is it done? Is it effectiv? How? Why? Who is the audience? Rather than a wall of "Well i personally dont like it. so it's bad". Feelings are valid but it's a bit like white noise i'd like to look past into exploring the uncomfortable. Speaking of, I'd like to eventually post some drafts that could be seen as touching uncomfortable topics but it's still scary, it's easy to get misinterpreted). Anyway, i also think a story can't be judged while incomplete. I have been keeping to priv/ my phone notes mostly because i know i can get careless and catty especially under stress. Im curious to see how it's wrapped up and how things will be evolving going forward...

[severepink]

Observing Adam

Where I go way too deep into something that probably isn't that deep. It's long, it's long as hell.

Okay, so you'd think with how Adam talks he's just a typical misogynist, right?

This man worships pussy. So much so, he's named a whole ass angel, one of his best, Vagina. You'd say that he objectifies them and thinks of them as being lesser, but I don't think that's the whole story. In fact, I think he might be the original simp.

All of these exorcists so far have been women. All of them. He refers to them as ladies or bitches interchangeably, he sees them as being completely capable of absolutely decimating leagues of some of the most vile beings who have ever existed, and they have, to the point it was only after thousands of years that there's been a risk to this hierarchy.

He's a self-centered, egotistical, loud-mouthed, arrogant asshole, no doubt about it, but I'm beginning to suspect something now.

If Adam and Lilith were created from the same dust, if they were created as equals, I am more than willing to bet... Lilith is also a self-centered, egotistical, arrogant asshole. But, she's likely far more intelligent, composed, and duplicitous.

Lilith was allowed to refuse Adam and leave of her own free will and garnered her own independence. A new wife was created for Adam, she was replaced. My guess, is she thought Adam wouldn't be able to live without her, to come back and find herself replaced entirely, she was enraged.

I believe both Adam and Lilith were both incredibly dominant individuals who fought over ideas, thoughts, and ultimately in the bedroom as well, if we take into account the creationist stories.

I'm willing to bet she likely manipulated Lucifer into twisting humanity against its original concept. What if Lucifer's intention truly was to just spark something within Eve, like independence and thought and creation, but it was Lilith's poison within the fruit that tainted her, then subsequently Adam, with sin.

Lilith thrived in hell, while Lucifer's dreams of creation were dashed. She didn't suffer as he did, instead the power of her voice grew with hell. Her voice grew so powerful that heaven found it to be a threat, her actions instigated the beginning of exterminations.

Charlie said that when she was a little girl, she didn't know Lucifer at all. I don't think this was because of Lucifer, he's seen here, picking her up, inviting her to share in his thoughts and dreams, showing her something wonderful. Something she could see within herself.

Charlie says that it's this moment that sparked her will to fight for her dreams. Which is strange, because at the very beginning of the story, Charlie says it was her mother's dream that was passed down to her.

Lilith took Charlie away. In this scene, Lucifer wasn't done showing Charlie his thoughts and dreams, he's still yearning to show his daughter these things at this point.

Lucifer loves his daughter. He loves Charlie so, so, so much. So why wasn't he allowed to build a relationship with his daughter for the longest time? He was waiting for the opportunity to get to know her, but with how much he adores her why didn't he do it sooner? He didn't comment on 'It took you a while-' he just said he missed her smile. They don't want to be pulled apart, again.

Now, we know Vivziepop has said that Lucifer and Lilith love each other, but Lilith 'wears the pants' in the relationship. We see all of the pictures all over the walls of a supposedly happy family. I don't think the relationship was as loving as originally portrayed and Lilith is a woman who desires control above all else. She likely tried to mitigate what influence Lucifer had over their daughter when she thought his angelic thoughts and behaviors became more than what she approved of.

Lets take it back to Adam and Lute for a moment. Again, Adam is a loud mouthed idiot, he's a jerk. The moment he realizes there are demons in heaven, he's ready to go on the attack. It's only because of Lute that he didn't end up doing something absolutely idiotic.

I gotta say, Lute and Adam's relationship is an absolutely fascinating one. He's a disrespectful dick head in how he talks, but how he acts is a different story. He allows Lute to man-handle him. He does listen to her, even if he's a whiny bitch about it.

Look at him, this is the face of a man listening, a dumb one, but a dude listening all the same. He doesn't manhandle her back, he doesn't even pull away until she lets go of his collar. Of all the shit he complained about, between being grabbed and being told what to do, his biggest complaint is that she's telling him to shush.

We know that Adam is the one who suggested the exterminations to begin with, so Sera says, and this was because of the power that Lilith was amassing. To him, Lilith is a threat. Even when he was willing to move on, to go to another wife when Lilith didn't want him or want to submit to him (fair babe, he's a bit of an idiot), she came back with an angel and proceeded to manipulate his new wife Eve. This is the supposed progenitor of man-kind, the original dick (hilariously enough), the reason civilization even exists at all. He and Eve had to fight for their lives after being tempted with the fruit. They had immortality, they had no ideas of shame, they were supposedly 'innocent' creatures before Lilith and Lucifer came along. He and Eve had to fight tooth and nail to survive after being cast from Eden. I think it shows in how willing and ready he is to take lead and do what he believes needs to be done, now out of a need for entertainment rather than a need to defend or protect. But, he still stopped to listen to Lute's advice. In the mythological story of Adam and Eve, Adam is the one who has to tell Eve that god said don't eat the fruit. Eve never heard god speak to her, so she was vulnerable to the snake's manipulations. She will now die because she ate it, and because she did not want Adam to take another wife, convinced him to eat it unknowingly. Funnily enough, Adam tried to explain to god that 'she lied to me and gave me the fruit' and in this actual mythology, Adam was punished for listening to his wife. Even without mentioning Lilith in the original mythology, Eve didn't want Adam to take another wife, so when we consider it within the context of Hazbin Hotel, it may be likely that's how it went down. Eve knew of Lilith, knew that she could be replaced, and decided that she would take Adam with her.

I believe that Adam does and did rely on the women in his life to help him with direction. I think Adam knows he can be an idiot and is willing to listen, even if he doesn't agree with what he's hearing. He did listen to Charlie in the beginning, he just didn't believe in her, like everyone else and he, out of anyone there, probably had the most reason not to. Cain and Abel were his and Eve's sons, his own child became the first murderer. Out of jealousy, the same kind of jealousy that no doubt has caused Lilith to act how she did. Adam isn't going to have empathy for sinners. His family, his legacy, were filled with the original sinners. He probably had to kill his son Cain in hell during the first exterminations. What do you think he would have had to feel, if it came to be a fact that sinners could be redeemed? That maybe his son, could've been redeemed? Or any of his progeny for that matter? How did it feel when his sons, his progeny, weren't given the same mercy as the Hellborn that Lucifer managed to keep protected through some deal with the angels or god? Not to mention that Charlie could've been his daughter. Charlie is the product of the people who completely and totally destroyed the paradise he'd been born into. She's the daughter who is protected and immune from the slaughter while all of his sons and daughters are judged and killed. I believe, even though he was a dickish prankster to Charlie, he was surprisingly patient and even somewhat amicable, willing to even ask her how her weekend was like he was just trying to get to know her.

Adam could just see all of the angels under his employ as being disposable. He doesn't have to name them, or think about them in any individual fashion. But, he knows Vaggie, recognized her instantly. Thought she was badass. Lute's the one who saw her, tore her wings off, and walked away. I'm surprised they even let her live, because this just goes against everything they're doing. They're an army and they saw one of their own showing empathy to the enemy.

Look at this dumb ass. He's being a shit-head, a dick, a bastard. But, he admires Vaggie's ability to pull Charlie, congratulates her, this dude isn't even judging her for being a lesbian. I don't think it's because he objectifies women, this dude loves women, he just does. He respects fellow vagina lovers. I don't think he respects liars in the slightest though. He's being underhanded, he's trying to be manipulative (he's not very good at it). I think he's brutally open and honest about everything and that's probably one of the reasons he's such a bastard anyways, because sometimes you just need to shut-up and he's not good at that.

I don't think he respects Sera for that either, he's more than willing to let others know what the hell he's doing, but under Sera's lead, he can't be open about it. I don't think it's his jam to act this way, it's why he sucks so bad at it and I think that's why Lilith is so antithetical to him. I also think that's why he's possibly even being manipulated.

It's kind of crazy that Adam is the only one who tries to come up with what allows someone to get into heaven. So here's his list: 1. Act Selfless: Maybe at one point he was! He had to have been, to be one of the progenitors of mankind, he would have had to work, sacrifice, and give to his wife and children for them all to survive. Eve would have had to do the same, no doubt. He may not seem selfless, due to his raunchy behavior, but he's served heaven since he's been there. He's served humanity in some kind of facet. 2. Don't Steal: Considering the only other humans are his spawn, he likely had to try and get them to not steal from one another for them all to have an equal opportunity of survival. He and Eve likely both knew they would need to work together to survive.

3. Stick it to the man: This, however, is interesting. Who is 'The Man' he speaks of? God? The only other people over him or were equal to him were women. He speaks like a rocker, and I think in this case he's using the term 'The Man' in a gender neutral way. I think he allowed some amount of Authority to Lilith when they were supposed to be seen as equals, it comes so naturally to him as a character when it comes to the other women he's been interacting with. I think she is the 'man' that he's been sticking it to- Pun somewhat intended. ((This third one may also simply be a tongue in cheek reference to when Alex Brightman played Dewey in School of Rock on Broadway! Thank you to the user who brought this to my attention!))

Adam is a bit of a hypocrite, isn't he? He likes to fuck, he's made that abundantly clear. Full of lust you could say. It was his original purpose after all, and he is judging Angel Dust for something he probably would've done himself at one point or has considered doing (maybe not the having sex with men part). Angel Dust does all of these things, Adam doesn't even deny it. He even looks nervous. He's angry, but doesn't deny that Angel has done those things. He doesn't explain it away or try to lie or move the goal posts, he's just asking what is an actually very valid question.

Why isn't Angel Dust there if he can do things equal to what Adam himself hasn't done? Serenity continues that line of thought. It isn't until Charlie is realizing no one knows what it takes to get into heaven.

Adam is more than willing to let Lute take the lead here, he's willing to give her the stage to clap back, he's giving her back-up antics. By all means, they could be pushing and fighting one another, there could easily be body language expressing something other than their general comfort around one another. They aren't fighting for a spotlight like you'd expect Adam to try and do considering his egotistical attitude.

Adam fucking sucks at keeping his mouth shut and he sucks at lying. He nearly blew the secret out of the bag once, this time, Sera is the only one who tries to stop him and to be honest? Lute looks a bit too thrilled at it. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't think it's a big deal that anyone would know. For fucks sake, they've already condemned souls, his progeny, to suffer. What's the big deal if he kills them?

I have to re-iterate what's happening here. Charlie is proud she caused this chaos, that she caused these angels to fight amongst themselves, even if in this case it's a good thing. But, this is like history repeating itself to Adam, the reflection of his ex-wife, entering his domain, causing strife among his people, being happy about it.

And the venom he expresses when it comes to the 'liar' portion, god Alex Brightman destroyed when he got to this portion specifically. There is some vehement disgust in his tone when he says liar.

Adam isn't a good person now. But, I think he used to be a good person. By all means, Adam himself could've been the first murderer when his wife made her mistake. He, at one point in time, had to have been good enough to foster civilization itself with Eve. Both good and bad. Adam's original purpose was to be fruitful and multiply. Ordained by god (or maybe just angels) himself, divine power directed and created him to fuck. He didn't chase his ex-wife down, he was given a new one, Lilith was allowed to leave. When he left things alone, when he tried to move on, his ex-wife and a scorned angel destroyed the paradise he was in with Eve. He had to struggle and toil, he had to feel shame in his own body. He had to find out his first born son was the first murderer. His second son killed. We don't know if this is going to be canon in the story, a lot has changed, and if Adam is the first soul who reached heaven, then what did happen to Abel? Was Abel considered a sinner? Or did Cain kill Abel after Adam had passed? Either way, he had to witness his children kill, he had to watch his descendants behave in a range from saints and monsters. He's seen genocides, he's seen famine, war. Adam is desensitized to the plights of his descendants. Maybe he even saw it as a duty to cleanse the universe of their existence at one point, because they were his responsibility.

At the end of this episode, he is properly scolded by Sera and does seem ashamed of himself. He isn't huffy, he is reminded that he should be ashamed of acting that way.

I love Lute's enthusiasm, she's absolutely brutal when talking about Vaggie and with how she handled Vaggie. I think it's funny that Lute is so brutal she's even made Adam uncomfortable. It's cute that he's made uncomfortable by the excitement and all he does is tell Lute, the premier hype woman over here, to chill. She's so proud of herself too, look at her.

He fully expects these exorcist bad bitches to go in there and fuck shit up. But, you know it's hilarious that he's throwing horns? This dude, this angel. First human soul in heaven, loving rock n' roll, the devil's music, and throwing motherfucking horns. It's poetic really. I think we can probably assume where things are going.

Now, this is the first point we've seen Adam being a real piece of shit to Lute. I don't think Adam likes it when people think he's too dumb to notice something, especially something so damn obvious. This is such a drastic moment of vitriolic, uncontrolled anger directed towards Lute. Adam knows he isn't the brightest tool in the shed. He likely knows he's obtuse and misses shit. It's why he sucks at lying, he knows he's not smart. That is why I think he's afforded women opportunities to direct him without fighting back against their advice and their choices. I'm sure Lilith made it obvious how dumb she thinks Adam is. I'm wondering if this might be where their ground breaking fight might've come from. Who's to say he didn't allow Lilith to take the lead, or listen to her like he's done with Lute here and now? Perhaps to an even greater point? He listened to Eve and ate from the fruit of knowledge and he was punished for it. Being seen as so dumb he can't formulate a simple fact is a sore spot for him.

Adam is incredibly powerful. It took a bit out of him to exercise that power, probably because he's out of practice just like Lucifer said. At one point, he probably wasn't so sloppy and weak willed. He's gotten lazy. Sloth like.

I think it got real personal here. How viscerally and personally he attacked Charlie. No one but Charlie truly thought sinners could be redeemed, or that they were even worth it. Not even one of the original sinners. Maybe he never considered the possibility, maybe what happened really did make him see the world as black and white to cope with that happened to him, his wife, his children. Charlie's desire to fight this idea would destroy the foundation for all of his coping through the years. He stopped seeing them as family, even though he's grandiose about his founding role in humanity. Does that itch the guilt that may lurk under the surface?

I don't think Adam thought much of Charlie at all. I don't think he had any intention of coming to kill her in the beginning, despite seeing her, despite who her parents were. But, I think with the constant push, with how eager she was to disrupt the pre-conceived idea of order, it reminded Adam and reflected her parents so much, he was eager to kill her for revenge against them. I think this electrical interference on the mask is a direct reflection of sin. Namely, wrath, in this moment.

Now, this. THIS. Is something that made me want to write this whole fucking essay. Is Lucifer implying that he not only gave Eve the Fruit from the tree of knowledge, but FUCKED HER TOO? Homies, I'm sorry but holy shit. That is some hydrating tea. I'd be pretty pissed too, fucked over twice by women who were supposed to be literal soul mates, who you were made for, who were made for you?

I knew he would have a goatee, I could almost hear it. I gotta say, I'm a sucker for how he looks. I think he's hot. He is a bastard, but so are a lot of the hot dudes in this show. It's just a theme.

This exact series of lines prompted so many of the thoughts that I had about Adam and why he thinks or acts the way he does. At one point, Adam did have to work himself to the bone and learn to survive from scratch alongside Eve. He isn't entirely without cause to not think that he deserves some respect or recognition from his descendants.

But, that doesn't give him the right to act like god himself. It's... well... Blasphemous. Isn't it? One of the worst sins is to think yourself to be worthy of worship, as if you're a god.

This is the moment that gave me empathy for them both. You could probably see the kind of loving person Adam could have been at one point with how he looks at Lute, even as he's laying there, dying. He's not crying like a bitch, just looking at Lute softly. Lute screaming for him, screaming his name. They cared for each other deeply.

And this... and this.... and this. WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE, LILITH? Did you make it with Sera? Did you make it with Adam? Did you make it with Lute? Did you really just want a little 'vacay' away from the hell you helped create? Left her husband, depressed and lonely. Left her daughter without any care or guidance. Maybe Alastor was sent in her place, perhaps? Seven years since he was seen after all, but why wouldn't he show up sooner if Lilith did care? Did she make a deal with Lute and Adam? Did she let Adam smash it so she could stay in heaven? Did Lute let her stay in exchange for getting Adam out of a position of power? Or was it maybe Sera who commissioned Lilith with a deal? Either way, I'm in full belief that it wasn't Adam's idea to move the extermination day up. I think he's a patsy, a scapegoat. I think Lute may have been manipulated, potentially, into manipulating Adam into this position. Was it even really Adam who came up with the idea to do the exterminations? Or was he the one who simply decided to fight originally because he was told heaven was at risk due to Lilith's rising power? The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions. I think it could be any number of these. Either way, Lute certainly does think she had authority over Lilith. Is it Lute just having hubris? Or is Lilith truly bound, just like Alastor, Husk, and Angel Dust?

Of course, now that we know a soul can be redeemed... and we certainly know that angels can fall. I don't think this will be the last we see of Adam.

[grandisknight]

dots and dashes | sylus

summary: Sylus gives insight into one of the many languages he's well-versed in.

tags: nsfw (mdni), established relationship, afab!reader, banter, morse code, vibrator, sex toys, orgasm edging, f!orgasm, aftercare/morning after, gift giving, evol abilites (sylus' energy manipulation), a pinch of fluff

wc: 2.6k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: mildly inspired by one of his older text messages (affinity 37’s text message: deal)! also around his pre-debut, he had morse code in one of the teasers (official weibo post here) and i thought that was pretty neat so here we are ^_^)7

The leader of Onychinus kept a plethora of languages stored away under his sleeve. A man of multiple tongues and talents, you just wanted to know how to say one thing—anything, really.��

Though, you didn’t think he’d take a silly comment in passing so seriously, and it landed you in his personal study the following evening. A rare day where your schedules aligned, Sylus took the opportunity to extend a warm welcome into the N109 Zone under the promise of a ‘lesson.’

Of all the languages, morse code was what he decided to reveal in his cards. A curious choice, to say the least, but it piqued your interest nevertheless. Cozied in one of the cushioned chairs, a beginner’s guide laid flat across the desk with your scribbled notes. Sylus’ chair was tucked to the side in observation, accompanying your lessons as a stand-in teacher of sorts.

Time passed in this way—he would offer a series of taps and drags with his fingers against the surface, and you would write them down. He was patient with you all throughout, solidifying the foundation for the alphabet before switching to small words and phrases.

A question that had been plaguing your mind since you arrived drifted into the air during a self-proclaimed break. “By the way, why do you know morse code?” 

With a hand propping your chin, your gaze takes in his relaxed figure. Comfortably dressed in his light gray sweater, the detailed threads of silver patterns painted him in a softer aura that juxtaposed his usually formidable appearance. Rimless glass coveted the rubied gaze that would occasionally meet yours, though occupied in thought. 

It was distracting, to say the least. A handsome distraction at its finest, though it doesn’t pull away from the message he quietly relayed to you.

A dot, two dashes. A series of dashes, another dot and some more followed.  (.-- / --- / .-. / -.-)

Counting off the units that met the table in muted taps, you answer, “Work?”

“Good ear, sweetie.” Sylus nods, leaning back and adjusting the thin frames balancing atop his nose. “Sometimes, negotiations are better said without words.”

“That’s a thinly veiled way of saying threats, but sure,” you retort. He doesn’t deny your claims, rather letting out a small chuckle in acquiesce. 

Sylus taps your forehead with his forefinger, amusement quirked in his brow. “You’ve seen the kind of talks and people I’ve dealt with. Who knows, you could use this in one of your little undercover missions too.” 

His hands return to nestle in his lap, and it catches your eye then—a faint snap and swirl of black manifested into a box underneath his palm. Perfectly fitted and nearly hidden if it weren’t for the glimmering trim around the edges, and the fluttering crow feather swaying towards the floor.

“Curious, are we?” Sylus voices your thoughts, fingers drumming against the lid. 

Two dashes and a dot, a couple more dots, another dash-dot and lasting dash. (--. / .. / ..-. / -) 

“Gift,” you echo upon realization. 

Your eyes wandered between his lap and the sparkling rubied gaze that honed his presence, reading between the lines. “Don’t tell me it’s another gun? Last time I checked, my Harrier 700 still works well.” 

And the last thing you wanted to deal with was a run-in with customs, if that were the case—he’s already tried his luck before, and you weren’t counting on his luck index to grant a second chance.

“You’ve been taking good care of it, so there’s no need for a replacement,” Sylus says. He leans back, tapping a forefinger to his temple in thought. “I thought it would be nice to get you something for studying so diligently.”

It had your back straightening in attention—now you really had no idea what he could be hiding. Even so, a scowl sketched onto your face, wondering if you’ve walked into a trap. A dry chuckle parts his lips at your clear interest and adamant attempt to maintain a façade all the same.

“Sweetie, it’s all yours.”

“It’s not that simple though, is it?”

“Ah. You know me so well,” he muses. “As vigilant as ever.”

The box finds itself on the desk and his hands reach for your chair. They dance over the armrest before turning your full front towards him—where his cocked head and curled lips asked, “Let’s make a deal. How does that sound?” 

“What’s the catch?” Your heart jumped into your throat, unsure of when the air became so… palpable. Damn him and his ridiculously handsome face, you couldn’t tell if it made this more bearable or stirred your senses further. “I might be willing to wager.”

“Relax, that’s one of the conditions.” His larger fingers swipe over one of yours, which had subconsciously curled into a fist. Gently, he coaxes your hand to open into his, soon neatly slotted and all encompassing with warmth. “You look nervous, and I haven’t done a thing.”

“I know.” Your shoulders relax when his thumb massages yours in a light stroke. “But you haven’t done anything yet,” you clarify.

“Which brings me to my second condition.” He brings it closer to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours when he presses a kiss to your knuckles. “A test, if you will. You pass if you manage to decode my sequence correctly.”

“My sequence,” you pause, catching the tail end of his proposal. “So there’s only one?” 

“Why, do you want a whole pop quiz?” He snickers, a brow raised. “We’ll be stuck here all night if that’s the case.”

“Nevermind,” you shake your head, finding the prospect to be less than charming. One was more than enough to take on your plate.

You purse your lips then and poke in jest. “Are you doubting my academic prowess now?”

“I would’ve dismissed you entirely if I was,” Sylus points out, tugging your hand towards him. 

It jerked you forward unexpectedly, though it seemed he was anticipating this—smooth swirls of red and black tangled around your body, gently placing you atop his expecting lap before softly dispersing. “There’s no doubt in my mind you’re as bright as they come,” he adds in honesty.

“What the—hey, now!” A flush ran across your cheeks at the newfound proximity. 

Hips hovering above him, you nearly fell onto the fine meeting place between his thighs. You save yourself the embarrassment, reaching for the chair’s headrest to steady your shift. He allows you this much, your legs soon bracketing his own and enjoying the sight all the same.

You huffed, “Is this part necessary?”

“Par for the course, actually.” Sylus’ fingers ghost over your sides, before settling atop your thighs and his palms lying flat in a gentle caress. “You can always back out if you’re not game.”

An arrow to your pride dug into your heart at the mere offense. The competitive spirit that once laid dormant jerked into consciousness—absolutely not.  “No, we’re on. Do your worst,” you raise in steadfast confidence. “I can take it.”

“Those are fighting words,” he says. The glint in his eyes was unmistakable, teetering on a fine line of fondness and scheme alike. “But I’ll hold you to it.”

—

So, maybe your confidence could only carry you so far. 

Rather, it tumbled you into a predicament at the cost of your exposed cunt. His free hand lazily dimpled into the plush of your hip, simultaneously careful to keep you steady. No longer a comfortable chill, the study’s air swirled into a concoction of heat and burning salacity in every inhale.

“Sweetie,” Sylus purrs. “You still haven’t answered my question.” 

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. The game of codes was the last thing on your mind when a fine man of caliber was perched beneath you, gracefully stringing you along and allowing you the same right.

Easily thrown out the window, especially so, when all inhibition was lost to his kneaded touches and peppered kisses. The smooth movements that treasured your skin with care, tugging your bottoms down just enough in the process and tenderly appreciating you throughout the heat of the moment. Even his hair stuck out in one direction to the next, unkempt from the field day your tugging fingers reshaped the silver stands into. 

Be that as it may, you still groan, chest rising to catch your breath. Nails drag into planes of his firm shoulder blades, lightly leaving their mark. “It’s because you’re not playing fair, Sy.” If you had a nickel for every time you were close to crashing in his embrace from an impending climax, it would be two. While it’s not an impressive sum, both were earned in the past few minutes alone, under the direction of his cunning smile and newfound toy in hand.

To his kindness, he pulls the rounded head of the vibrator away from your clit—the once muffled hums rang out more clearly, whirring at the highest setting. It glistened to the naked eye, finely coated in a layer of your evident arousal.

“All is fair in love and war,” he says, unphased by the line of bait you failed to reel in. He leans forward to press a kiss into your temple, a sign of affection pairing with a gentle squeeze to your side. “Should I be nice and walk you through one last chance?”

Your hands trace the curves melting into his neck, grazing his nape in forewarning. “Thin ice, Onychinus head.” 

“Alright,” he muses, though reveling at the added pressure that only spurs him further. “No need to get so formal with me.” The vibrator lowers in the same breath to meet your anticipating heat.

“Five letters. Ready?”

Your hips roll forward then, impatience losing its virtue if meant you could finally, finally seek some relief. “Was practically born ready, at this point.” And then, the first rhythm played out in three, gentle presses to where you needed it most. 

Three dots. (...)

This was fine, you could handle this much.

A moment of pause soon sways into the vibrator sliding between skin, returning to the apex of your labia, and dipping once again. 

A dash, added dot, and paired dashes thereafter. (-.--) “Still with me?” Sylus asks, taking in the sight of your eyes screwed in concentration. It was endearing, in some sense of the word, and his gaze lingered on your expression in intrigue.

Though grateful for the concern, you chide when your breath allows it. “Don’t stop, go all the way already.”

To stop halfway tested what little patience there was left in you. You raised your head to find his circles of crimson brimming with a fondness and undivided attention. All for you.

The grin he graces you with carries the same sentiments, newly tinted with mirth. “Whatever the boss wants.” 

The humming returns without warning, and you jerk against the touch, gasping. A press and slide, following upwards once more in double succession. 

Another dot, dash, and two dots in a row. (.-.. )

You were quickly beginning to piece together the puzzle he left you to solve, the audacity of it all.

Before you could admonish such revelations, you bite your tongue when he continues into the next piece. It was fleeting, but memorable—identical presses and a sinister slide, the buzzing toy greeting your entrance in slick abundance. 

Two dots, and a dash. (..- )

“You’re not—” Your eyes grow wide at the newly placed prodding. 

“Getting cold feet? A minute ago you wanted me to go all the way,” Sylus recalls with a click of his tongue. “It would be unlike you to stop right before the finish line, sweetie.”

You squirm against him, sensitive and incredibly aware of the coil threatening to unfurl. He takes notice, hand stilling in consideration.

“You can do it,” he croons, forehead to yours and capturing your fluttering gaze.

“Never said I couldn’t,” you say, a swallow sealing your determination.

Sylus smiles. “Last letter. Let's make it count.” The vibrator slips into your cunt, whirring against your walls in a sense of overwhelming ecstasy. He makes quick work of it all then, three generous thrusts of the wand disappearing almost entirely, save for his firm grip around the base. 

Three final dots. (...)

It marks the end of his charades, and the beginning of your incandescent cries.

You came undone at last, release ebbing as a flurry of sounds shape themselves into your call. “Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.”

“That’s it, ride it out for me. You worked so hard to earn it, after all.” His nose brushes just beneath your jaw, a tender kiss in consolation to soothe your high. 

He relaxes the toy out of your spent heat by the time your trembling thighs subsided, power shutting off and rolling onto the desk’s surface. A brief swirling of black and crimson manifests a small cloth into his hand, gently patting away the stickied outcome before it disperses in the same specks. His fingers rake along your sides, dragging the fabric of your bottoms into their proper place.

“Sylus.” You slump against his shoulder in recovery, bemoaning amidst the moment of calm clarity. “You are unbelievable. The damn answer was your name, of all things.” “And now you know how to call for me in code. Aren’t I generous?” The slight rumble of his chest supports the chuckle he lets out, deepened further when a curl of your fist smacks his shoulder in protest.

Endearment softens his tone as he draws circles into your back, taking the rolling punches. The other tangles his fingers against your temple, smoothing out the sides in thought. “I would say our lesson went well today.”

“One hell of a lesson,” you remark. Your breathing slows for a moment, listening to the drumming heart beneath your ear. His caresses were kind, lulling, attentive. A sense of peace, wholeheartedly yours and Sylus' alone.

Your gaze shifts towards the desk, when another piece of memory, well-decorated in its untouched trim, lies next to the toy. Forgotten, nearly—the gift. “By the way,” you murmur. “What’s in the box?” Whether it was out of laziness and unwilling to move from your warmth or pure convenience, Sylus waves his hand in summoning. Accepting the floating item midair, you were about to peel off the lid when he began to shift under you, interrupting your grand reveal.

“Hold on.”

With practiced ease, Sylus single-handedly cradles you to his chest and adeptly rises from the cushioned seat. No matter how many times he’s pulled it off in the past, it still leaves you breathless as if it were the first time.

You circle an arm around his neck, the other clutching the box with a huff, “I was about to do an unboxing, you know.” 

“I know,” he confirms, and presses another kiss to your temple. “But you’re getting sleepy. Open it after a good night’s rest.”

A swirl of Evol pushes the doors open, his footsteps echoing down the hall and towards his sanctuary. Your mind willed to protest his attempt of procrastination, yet only a yawn pushed past your lips and proved his point.

Curling into his embrace, you faintly mumble into his neck, “I’m wide awake.”

“And the sun shines at midnight,” Sylus deadpans, unimpressed at your performance. “Don’t fight it. If you’re tired, then sleep. I’ll make sure the gift will be there when you wake up.”  “You promise?”

“With my heart,” he says.

It was a simple response, yet the timbre of his words imbued security and affection all the same. As if he meant more than just ensuring your box was safe, swearing to something beyond your greater comprehension. 

One blink lasted longer than the one prior, sweeping the thought and yourself away into soundless sleep. Another time, perhaps.

—

You would find out the following day that he stayed true to his word. In the quiet hums of the morning, a slumbering giant clung to your side, his breathing calm and unknowing you had finally peeled open the mysterious box. 

A finely crafted jewel twinkled amidst padded velvet, a clasp secured on one end. Engravings inlaid in a series of familiar dots and dashes; you couldn't help but softly laugh, a finger tracing the pattern.

(-... . .-.. --- ...- . -..)

Beloved.

[lev1hei1chou]

Sleeping Beauty

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 384 Synopsis: You fall asleep on Gojo Masterlist

You and Satoru Gojo had been dating for quite some time now, facing curses and missions together. Despite the chaos that often surrounded your lives, there were moments of peace that made everything worthwhile. Tonight was one of those rare calm evenings.

After a long day of exorcising curses, the two of you found yourselves back at the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical High School dormitory. The soft glow of the moon illuminated the room as you and Gojo settled onto the couch, exhaustion finally catching up to you.

In the midst of casual conversation, fatigue took its toll, and your eyes began to droop. Sensing your weariness, Gojo chuckled softly, a grin never leaving his face.

"Well, well, looks like someone's ready for a good nap," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You shot him a tired glare, your lips curving into a half-smile. "Shut up, Gojo. It's been a long day."

But Gojo wasn't one to pass up an opportunity to tease. As you rested against him, your head finding a comfortable spot on his shoulder, he couldn't help but comment, "You know, you're surprisingly light when you're asleep. Almost like a baby bird."

You groaned, both amused and annoyed. "Can't you be serious for once?"

Gojo's laughter rumbled through his chest as he wrapped his arm around you protectively. "Who said I can't be serious? I'm just making observations. Besides, it's kinda cute."

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled something unintelligible, drifting further into the realms of sleep. Gojo continued to hold you close, his teasing demeanor softened by a rare tenderness. The room fell silent, the only sound being the rhythmic breathing of two exhausted souls.

Time passed, and eventually, you stirred awake. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you found Gojo watching you with an affectionate glint in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," he said, his tone still laced with humor.

You yawned and stretched, realizing the position you were in. "Guess I dozed off, huh?"

"Just a little," Gojo replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "But you were adorable, so I'll let it slide this time."

You shot him a playful glare, swatting his arm. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"But you love me for it," he retorted, pulling you into a tight hug.

[chahnniesroom]

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

[reiding-writing]

i can totally see Spencer buying tickets for a movie and asking cold!reader to go with him cuz he knows she'd say yes

À BIENTOT— SPENCER REID!

spencer takes an opportunity to get closer to you based on nothing more than a passing comment.

spencer reid x cold!reader | fluff | 2.2k | cold!reader masterlist

a/n— this may be a tiny bit of self projection bc i’m trying to pick up my french again (ça ne marche pas)

main masterlist.

It’s a quiet day in the office. Quieter than usual for a Friday.

Quiet enough in fact, that you actually had time to take the whole hour of lunch that you were technically mandated to have every single day.

Most of it was still spent at your desk, although with a book in your hands instead of a case file. A distraction, maybe, but not a very optimistic one.

It wasn’t long before you had company. Spencer wasn’t really a ‘socialist’ in the physical sense of the word, and once he’d had enough of sitting in the kitchen eye with the group he too had decided to retreat back to the bullpen.

There’s a tinge of curiosity as he spotted you, sat cross-legged in your chair with both elbows leant on your desk and an open book in hand.

“Auschwitz and After?” He had to tilt his head to see the cover, but his ‘question’, his assessment, was confident.

You hum passively, like you’d already known he was coming over despite his quiet footsteps and your eyes trained on the pages. He’s not too surprised, it wasn’t very easy to catch you off guard.

“What drew you to it?” Spencer questioned, his gaze leaving your blank expression as it went back to observing the book in your hands, scanning the words on the pages.

“Practicing my french,”

Simple and to the point, and to your credit it made sense—when Spencer was knee-deep in a book he didn’t want to interrupt that focus either.

“You’ve read it before?” Socialist he may not be, but he wasn’t ready to leave you in your solitude yet.

“In English,” You turn the page with another small hum. “Doesn’t really count,”

Spencer hummed in agreement.

He could go on for hours about why reading a text in its intended language was superior to reading its translation. How much meaning and sub-context is lost in the transition between languages and completely distort the original meaning.

But you didn’t need to hear that. You already knew it.

So he didn’t say anything, instead choosing to focus his gaze on your face for a few more minutes, wondering if he’d be able to read the emotion on your face like he was so used to doing.

There was still nothing though. No facial twitch. No eyebrow raised. Nothing to indicate what you were thinking.

It was almost like your face was carved from marble.

If he thought about it too much he’d probably say your face deserved to be carved into marble, to keep a relic of you perfect and untouched forever.

But that was a bit too much for him to settle with.

Spencer shifted nervously on his feet, trying to think of something else to say to rid of the silence that was leaving him with his own overthinking.

“Hey— uh— There’s this um— If you’re wanting to brush up on your french—”

“Spit it out, Reid,” Your voice isn’t as harsh as it is blunt. You appreciated conciseness, although you’d never cut him out of a tangent unless it was something that was unproductive.

This one definitely was.

“Uh— Right, right,” he stumbled over his words for a moment before finally taking a deep, steadying breath. “There’s this movie coming out in a few weeks— well technically it came out in France back in May but—”

Spencer’s words came out so fast in his rush to just get to the point, that, for a moment, he was worried that you would only understand half of what he was saying.

“Reid,” You hold up your hand towards him as an indication for him to stop, before moving your hand in a single spiral as a non-verbal instruction for him to breathe.

His rambling stopped almost immediately, and if he had the conscience to be embarrassed, he most definitely would be at how readily he follows your order to take a second to calm down.

Especially considering you still hadn’t even turned your eyes up from your reading in the process.

Still, he follows you with no hesitation, and once you signal for him to continue, he starts back up again, slower this time.

“‘L’armée du crime’, uh, ‘The Army of Crime’, it’s only being shown in a few select theatres here in DC, but—”

The words came out slightly more measured this time, although that little hint of the usual rambling was still, very much present.

“It’s in the original French,” he continued after a beat, his previous hesitation slowly disappearing under the knowledge you weren’t put off by him just yet.

“With subtitles, of course— but still, the entire— dialogue is in— is in French.”

He exhales heavily.

“I was thinking of going to see it.”

He paused again, the hesitation creeping back into his voice.

“What’s it about?”

He swears the whole office can hear his sigh of relief.

“Um, it’s a war-movie,” he said after a few, silent moments, pointing lamely towards your book.

“Set during the Second World War, it talks a lot about the French Resistance, and how it’s not only the people who were fighting in the trenches who made it possible for the Allies to win…”

The start of his explanation is seemingly enough to grasp your full attention, echoed by the way you shut your book with no effort to remember your placement and leave it on your desk to look at him instead, eyebrow raised.

That little gesture, the almost unnoticeable quirk of your eyebrow, was all that Spencer needed to know that he didn’t need to summary the entire movie.

You were interested, but you didn’t want to know the entire plot ahead of the time.

He chuckled lightly at that, before biting his lower lip slightly. The next words that came out of him were almost just breaths.

“… Do you want to come with me?”

It’s enough for your eyebrow to raise more noticeably, enough that Spencer wouldn’t have to be standing less than five feet away to notice it.

“When?”

“Friday night—” It felt like the words were tumbling out of his mouth, like if he didn’t get them out fast enough he’d loose your attention and go back to square one.

But when he actually said the words out loud, he realised how much they sounded like he was asking you out on a date.

He was worried that you would reject him if you thought it was a date.

“…Unless you have other plans?”

There’s a small moment of silence, and Spencer feels like he might vomit from the anticipation.

“Friday’s fine,”

That’s it took for a small, satisfied smile to pull at Spencer’s lips. Those two words, combined with the small nod you throw in his direction, was all the reassurance that he needed to take you at your word.

“Great. That’s uh, that’s— that’s great,” he fumbled over his words, just barely reeling himself in from another ramble of him over-explaining his appreciation for your company.

“Friday’s fine for what?”

He doesn’t really have to worry about that.

Morgan walks over with a mug of coffee in his hand, eyebrow raised in amusement. “A hot date?”

“If you consider watching a french re-enactment of world war two as ‘hot’, then sure,” There isn’t a single ounce of sincerity in your tone, and Morgan glances between the two of you with a barely hidden smile, a chuckle bubbling in his throat.

Spencer, meanwhile, was just staring at Morgan with an indignant expression, silently begging him to not make this into a ‘thing’.

Unfortunately for Spencer though, Morgan was, well, Morgan.

He took one sip of the coffee in his hand, his eyes drifting between the two of you once more.

“French reinactment of the Second World War, huh?” he repeated, his smile turning into a cheeky smirk. “Why am I not surprised?”

There it was, that smirk.

It was the same one he always had on his face when it came to you two.

“It’s- it’s not like that” Spencer mumbled, his tongue quickly flickering out to lick at his suddenly dry lips.

“Sure, it’s not.” Morgan chuckled, enjoying every moment of this as he took another sip of his coffee. “The two of you are just gonna be sitting in a dark room… all alone… together…”

“Watching people get tortured…” You mimic the song-like drawl of Morgan’s voice to throw his ‘joking’ back onto him, rolling your eyes. “So romantic,”

A smirk remained fixed on Morgan’s face as he leaned over your desk until he was looking Spencer directly in the eye.

“I don’t know, you’re both nerds. This sounds like a perfect date to me”, he teased, causing Spencer to scoff in response.

“If that’s your idea of a ‘perfect date’ then I pray for whoever has the unfortunate circumstance of ending up with you,”

“Nah, don’t worry about me, Snowflake,” he chuckled, lifting the mug of coffee to his lips once more. “I’m not the one who’s gonna be sitting in a dark, lonely movie theatre with Doctor Genius here,”

“I don’t need to be ‘prayed for’, Reid is perfectly fine company,” You give Morgan another roll of your eyes, although whether at his comment or his ‘nickname’ Morgan is unsure.

“Sure, sure” he murmured, before pushing himself up off your desk with a smirk. “Enjoy the movie, lovebirds.”

He leaves the bullpen with a blown kiss in your directions, throwing the two of you a wink as he catches up to Garcia walking into the conference room.

You re-open your book once he’s out of sight, letting out a soft groan in lieu of Morgan’s tormenting.

You didn’t really hate it per se , but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get on your nerves.

Spencer wasn’t unalike in his reaction, a breath of relief leaving his lips once Morgan’s back was turned.

‘Lovebirds’.

Spencer tried to mentally scoff the thought away, and tried not to blush at the thought either.

He glanced back at you, praying that hopefully you didn’t notice that small, involuntary flush that seemed to be crawling across his cheeks.

He continued to be frozen on the spot, eyes locked on your relaxed expression as you scanned the pages to see if you recognised certain parts of the text.

“Page 212...” His voice came out quiet as he spoke.

“What?” You take a second to divert your attention from the pages, eyebrows furrowed curiously in his direction.

Spencer swallowed, hoping that he at least looked composed despite feeling like the exact opposite.

“You were on page 212,” he explained, a small smile pulling at his lips as he caught your gaze.

“Right,” You don’t question his recollection as you skip to page 212, throwing him a dismissive “Thanks,” once you confirm you’re in the right place.

“You’re welcome,”

Spencer’s voice was quieter once more, not as anxious as before but still quiet. He watched you as you returned your gaze back to the pages of the hardback copy, and he was torn between the urge to just stand there and keep looking at you reading the book, or heading back to his desk to work on one of the many case files that had stacked themselves there.

Deciding that it would probably be a little creepy for him to just stand there watching you read, even if you didn’t seem to particularly mind it, he forced himself to look away.

Just as he turned to head around to his desk, he found himself blurting out something without even realising.

“You look nice today,”

Your eyes flicker back upwards from your book through furrowed eyebrows. “Thanks,”

You hadn’t actually changed anything about your appearance, the outfit you were wearing was practically identical to the one you wore most days, your hair was done the same, you hadn’t even showered that morning.

He quickly realised that he must’ve looked like a complete idiot and, for a moment, was wondering if he could rewind time to not say what he had just said.

“Uh, I mean—” he tried to backpedal, hoping that his awkward rambling could save him from this situation. “Not that you don’t usually look nice! I meant-!”

As he fumbled over his words, he mentally slapped himself. Why couldn’t he just be normal and not blurt out something so stupid at such a random time.

God he hoped this wouldn’t make you change your mind about wanting to spend time with him one on one.

Thankfully, the universe seemed to have a little mercy on him.

“Team, I need you in the conference room.”

So much for a full lunch break.

[onismdaydream]

♡ ⋆｡˚ keep your hands to yourself !

synopsis..!: your roommate found the bathroom door open! can you blame him for wanting to join? (3.1k)

warnings..!: MDNI. fem/afab reader. aged up character. pwp. perv!yuji. voyeurism. dubcon(at first). fingering. unprotected p in v. not proofread.

notes..!: first proper writing for perv yuji based off an ask i got that was too delicious to pass up. i had a lot of fun writing this even if i was a bit nervous bc i wanted to really lean into the pervy-ness. comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

yuji’s relaxing on the beaten up couch in the shared living area, scrolling past uninteresting videos on his phone while the tv screen plays an equally uninteresting show when the familiar jingling of various keychains clanking against each other filters to his ears. he's gotten better at recognizing the sounds you make — an unintentional side effect of sneaking around you.

well, sneaking sounds bad. it makes yuji feel dirty, like he's taking advantage of you without you knowing. he'd much rather say that he observes you. after all, there's no harm in looking, right? and there's certainly no harm done if yuji stays out of your sight during those moments.

the knob turns and the door opens and you let out a loud sigh as you kick your shoes off, dropping your bag on the closest surface available.

“long day?” yuji offers, straightening up a bit when you make your way over to him. his lips twitch upwards when you flop down next to him, your body sinking into the cushion. your hands run down your face, almost as if you're trying to wipe the exhaustion away. cute.

“you don't even know.” your eyes close and yuji takes the opportunity to let his gaze linger on your body, your relaxed posture practically begging him to look.

with your head thrown back and resting against the couch, your neck is exposed. smooth skin that he wishes he could nip and suck at, positive that you'd look even better covered in marks left by him. his fingers itch to reach out and touch you, to run them along your collarbone and down the valley of your perfect breasts. he'd love to feel the weight of them in his hands, to squeeze them and pinch your pretty nipples until you cry out for him. it's like you're playing with yuji, really, with how often you show off your chest. those cute swim tops you wear that barely stay in place or the shirts with the deep neckline, they drive him crazy. he's had to excuse himself to jerk off more times than he'd like to admit, images of your tits in his face as you bounce on his cock flooding his mind.

“we could, uh,” yuji starts, swallows when his mouth gets too dry, his tongue heavy where it sits. “we could watch a movie? get your mind off of it.”

it's a genuine offer; yuji does enjoy spending time with you and considers you a very good friend. it's just an added bonus that you always end up pressed up against him during those hang outs. your plush thigh looks so soft and warm and he wants to dig his fingers into the doughy skin, maybe even leave some bruises.

a soft exhale leaves your nose, and you shake your head before you open your eyes. “thanks but not tonight.”

yuji’s heart drops a bit, a disappointment he knows he never earns the right to weighing it down.

“i'm pretty tired so i’m gonna shower and then go to bed. rain check?” you stand, stretching your arms above your head and your shirt rides up with the movement. a small sliver of your stomach is exposed, drawing yuji’s eyes instantly. a moth to a flame.

“yeah, sure.” his words trail off, yuji only half paying attention to what you said. he can't help it — his mind goes blank when he gets a peek of your body. he watches you walk away, watches the sway of your hips in a trance until you step out of his line of vision.

there should be a feeling of guilt in the pit of yuji’s stomach, but there's not. there never is and he doubts there ever will be. instead, there's unbridled lust. he craves to touch your body, to feel your warm skin underneath his fingertips and to pull the sweetest sounds from your lips.

yuji’s hand falls to his growing bulge, the front of his shorts chubbing underneath the heat of his palm. a shaky breath slips past his lips as he squeezes his cock, wishing so desperately that it was your touch instead. he wouldn't even care how you touched him. as long as it was your fingers wrapped around his length, he would feel euphoric. hell, he'd even fuck into your fist if that's all you would give him.

he groans softly and shuts his eyes, imagining you leaning forward in that low cut shirt he loves so much, the one that shows off your gorgeous tits, and your hand just barely closing around his cock, a teasing touch that he doesn't deserve. shit, he wants it so bad — wants you so bad.

the sound of the shower sputtering to life snaps him out of his horny stupor, face flushing as he realizes that if you came back for any reason, you would've seen him. the tent of his shorts is obvious and there's no doubt that you wouldn't have known what he was doing. literally caught with his hands in his pants.

with a sigh, yuji decides to go to his room. if he's going to jack off to the thought of you, at least he should have the decency to not do it in a shared area.

the door to the bathroom isn't closed fully, the warm light spilling out from the cracks and shining on the opposite wall. it's like a siren’s call and yuji doesn't even realize his feet are moving again until he's standing in front of it, his hand hovering over the door. one small push and there'd be no privacy. one small push and he could see you fully. one small push.

there’s no hesitation.

yuji licks his lips, his mouth dry despite the humidity in the small room. water droplets cling to the glass of the mirror and shower, slowly running down the surface. the image is obscured but he can still easily make out the shapes. your curves look more pronounced now that you're bare and it's a sight that he never wants to forget.

he must be dreaming, seeing your hands move along your body through the textured and fogged glass. he feels his cock twitch, throbbing and aching in neglect, his erection forgotten as he watches you. you look so beautiful, so so pretty with the water cascading down your skin. one of those ancient marble statues carved in the visage of true beauty, now come to life in front of his very eyes. but here you were, hidden and protected by glass to keep admirers from touching what isn't theirs.

if only yuji could see you without the barrier, if only he could touch you like he wants to. he'd be so delicate with his handling, so thorough to ensure that you wouldn't crack or be damaged. all he wants is the chance to fully appreciate you in all your glory.

perhaps this is his only chance.

yuji’s movements are slow, careful, as he strips down to his underwear. his clothes fall to join your own on the tile. the muggy air sticks to his already hot skin, lingering in his lungs and making every breath heavier than the last. the few steps in the small bathroom seem to be multiplied tenfold, his heart hammering against his ribs and echoing in his ears.

it's not nerves rushing through his veins, though. it's excitement and desire; the mere idea of being able to touch your skin throws logic out of the window. even if you end up hating him, yuji isn't sure that he would regret this moment.

it's a blur of how it happens, his body acting on instinct as he covers your mouth and presses his broad chest against your back. you try to scream, jumping in his hold and fighting to get away.

(you feel so warm.)

yuji easily overpowers you, keeping you exactly where he wants you, a sturdy arm wrapped around your middle. he can feel you panicking, can feel the tenseness in your muscles and the rapid beating of your heart.

(so warm and soft and perfect.)

“‘ts okay,” his lips ghost along your shoulder, his fingers flexing as he tries not to move them yet. “please, let me touch you. i’ll make you feel so good.”

you're stiff against him, hands on his wrists but no longer actively clawing and pushing. he can feel the shaky breaths you’re taking, the exhales from your nose licking against his skin.

(you must want this, too, right?)

“please.” yuji repeats, his begging bordering on pathetic. “you're all i think about. need to touch you, please.”

and it's that honesty, that confession of obsession and desire, that seems to make you relax a bit. or, that’s what yuji wants to believe as you give a small nod, the movement slightly restricted from his hold on you.

yuji’s hand leaves your mouth slowly, almost afraid that you would break if he moved too suddenly. you're so fragile in his eyes, a beautiful doll meant to be observed and admired from afar. made of porcelain and only meant to be touched with gloves.

but the warmth of your skin underneath his fingers proves you are so much better than those damn figures.

“thank you.” his palms immediately cup your tits, gently squeezing the fat of them and groaning quietly at the feel. “oh god, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

it's nothing like he imagined. your tits are so soft in his calloused hands, warmth seeping through your skin and nearly burning him. but he can't pull away, not now.

“fuck,” yuji whispers next to your ear, his hands pulling you flush against him, his cock prodding at your lower back. hooking his chin over your shoulder, he watches in a daze as he gropes at your chest. “so perfect.”

you let him fondle your breasts, biting your lip when his fingers graze over your nipples, trying your best to keep your reactions neutral. he squeezes and kneads, pushes your tits together, makes them jiggle a bit, too — anything his mind can think of. it was only a matter of time, though, until he shifted his focus to your stiffening buds.

“look at ‘em.” he pinches your nipples, a sharp pleasure pain that zings down your spine and pulls a squeak from you. “you look so pretty.”

he's no expert, but yuji prides himself on being a quick learner. he repeats the action, adds a kiss to your shoulder for good measures, desperate to get the same reaction. he promised to make you feel good after all, right?

and if you end up enjoying this as much as he wants you to, well then, maybe you wouldn't hate him so much when it's all said and done. it's a win-win, really.

you whine softly at his touch and the sound goes straight to his aching dick.

“don't hold back,” he pleads, lips trailing up your shoulder to press against your neck. now that you're finally in his hold, he doesn't plan on wasting a single second of contact. “w’nna hear all your noises. please. always sound so sexy.”

“yuji,” a sweet moan spills from your pretty mouth and yuji swears that he could cum right then. his name on your lips sounds so sinful — no, heavenly. there's surely no better sound in the world and he wants to hear it over and over again.

“fuck, say it again.” his voice is dripping with desperation, hips jumping to rut against your back. you must be made for him, must be made to say his name because nothing will ever compare.

yuji’s cock leaks globs of precum as you do as he asks — begs for — his boxer briefs sticking so uncomfortably to his heated skin. they're soaked through, the white fabric becoming practically transparent and if you were turned the other way, you'd surely see how badly he wants you.

a hand runs down your front, gradually sliding until he reaches your pussy, cupping it and feeling the warmth bleed into his skin. his breathing is heavy and hot — suffocating, almost — with the water spraying around you. slowly, carefully, yuji presses his finger between your lips, feeling as though time pauses and the world shrinks down until it's just you and him. nothing else could possibly matter because he has your slick arousal gathering on his first knuckle.

it's a fucking wet dream come true.

you're tight around him, not so much that he can't move, but enough that his cock throbs when he imagines what it'll feel like when he sinks himself inside.

(would you let him?)

his finger starts a steady pace of thrusting in and out, gentle and shallow movements.

“so wet,” yuji mumbles, voice dropping as he staves off a groan. his other hand squeezes at your tit, a lot less gentle and a lot more hungry. an internal battle of wanting to drag this out for as long as possible and needing to push you to your limits immediately. he wants to savor this, take his time exploring every inch of your body that he can, but his dick hurts from how hard it is. he wants to devour you, too.

another finger prods at your dripping pussy, pushing past and making you moan so pretty.

your body is pressed so close to his own, pinned between his strong arms and hips, unable to control himself from humping onto you. your fingers wrap around his wrists, anchoring yourself as he rubs at your puffy clit. every sound you make spurs him to pull more from you.

“can i,” his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, his breathing labored from the desire flowing through him. “can i fuck you? please, just — hah — just a few thrusts, promise i’ll stop after, just need to feel you.”

you don't even finish nodding before yuji peels his wet underwear down enough for his cock to spring free, groaning softly. his tip is drooling when he pulls his foreskin back, shiny with precum and flushed red. he presses it to your swollen clit just to hear you whine softly, hoping you're just as desperate as he is.

“thank you, fuck, need this so bad.” yuji pushes you to the shower wall, the tile cold against your skin but the scorching heat of his body still makes you shiver.

his hand shakes as he guides himself in, sliding his cock into the person he's fantasized about far too often to be normal. finally feeling your body underneath his fingertips and hearing your delicious moans and tasting your skin on his tongue. he'd be convinced this wasn't real — just some cruel dream his horny mind conjured up — if it weren't for the squeeze of your cunt as he pushes another inch deeper.

“feel so good,” his hand on your hip tightens it's hold, fingertips sure to leave a beautiful bruise. every thrust forward sinks more of his cock inside you, sheathing himself in your perfect pussy. “so warm.”

it's hard, nearly impossible, to control his hips, to restrict himself from fucking you the way he's thought about. all he can think about is burying himself inside you until he can't go any deeper, grinding until he spills his load, staying in your cunt and starting all over again. your pussy would be so swollen, lips puffy and so much cum leaking out of you, and still, yuji wouldn't be satisfied.

and those noises that fall from your lips, your breathy moans and broken cries of his name, it just makes his cock throb.

he's going to cum. you're going to make him cum.

the embarrassment that would usually accompany finishing so soon is far outweighed by the tight heat hugging his cock. how could anyone expect to last when your pussy sucks him in so well?

“oh god, don't, don't make me stop, please.” the words tumble from his mouth, his hips slapping against your ass as he fucks you fast and hard. that familiar tightening in his stomach threatening to snap at any moment. he knows he said he would pull out but he doesn't want to. he really doesn't want to.

“d-don’t stop, yuji,” you whine out, your fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth tile, the now cool water making everything more slippery. yuji’s broad body is there to keep you upright, his hands roaming over every part of you he can reach. “don't fucking stop.”

he's not sure if he could stop anyway, you just feel so good around him. he's gotten a taste for you and now he's addicted, already looking for his next hit. would you hate him if he did this again? if he falls to his knees in front of you and begs to be between your legs once again?

but with the way you're moaning and tightening around him, yuji might just be lucky enough to have your cum on his tongue later.

his teeth graze against the sensitive spot on your neck, nipping and sucking at it until there's a dark color blooming. a mark.

a claim.

this is what he's dreamed of, what he's jerked off to countless times. and it's so much better than what yuji could ever imagine.

your pussy flutters around him and he quickly snakes his hand around your front, frantically rubbing at your clit and hoping he can ensure you orgasm first.

“cum for me, please,” he whispers, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “w’nna feel you cum on my cock.”

everything feels so intense, the echoing of the spraying water mixing with the lewd sounds of fucking and skin hitting skin and a symphony of moans. and suddenly, the dam breaks.

“yuji!” you cry out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you clench, hard. it's heavenly, feeling you spasm around his cock and milking him for all he's worth. he's meant to be here, meant to be inside you.

it's inevitable that he cums, unable to hold off any longer. his hips stutter, grinding slowly against your ass as you both come down from the high.

the water is turning cold by now, a welcome relief from the heat radiating from your bodies. yuji’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, his fingers squeezing gently at your hips before he pulls out. he should feel guilty. he should feel really fucking guilty for everything he did.

but he doesn't.

seeing the marks that he left on your skin and the cum dripping from your pussy just makes him determined to leave more, to fuck you more.

“yuji,” you start, and, fuck, he still loves the way it sounds coming from your mouth. “what… what just happened?”

you turn your head and for the first time since you got off the couch, you can see him clearly. a hand at the back of his neck, a sweet chuckle, and that innocent, boyish smile gracing his features. his face is flushed a pretty pink that matches his hair, the same hair that's stuck to his forehead from the water and sweat from fucking you.

“sorry, couldn't help myself.”

[ovaryacted]

TIME CRUNCH

PAIRING: DBF! Joel Miller x fem! reader || WC: 2.7k

SYNOPSIS: The Miller household is hosting a neighborhood barbecue for the 4th of July with your father on the grill. While you're there, you steal a couple of minutes to get much more than beer and cooked meat.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. [NO OUTBREAK] SMUT. Age gap implied (Joel is 36, Reader is 21+). Kissing. Oral & Fingering (f receiving). Panty stealing. Bathroom shenanigans. Beer drinking. Allusions to secret established relationship/messing around. Joel is down bad & calls reader several pet names. Descriptions of reader wearing a dress & mini skirt. No use of y/n.

A/N: Hi hi. I don't know how this happened, but it just did. The idea came to mind yesterday and I sat down and wrote the whole thing in one sitting lol. Anywho, it's just some fun silly smut with DBF! Joel being a simp cause I love him like that. I imagined HBO Joel specifically for this one so this is a win for Pedro Pascal fans. Reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! Not-beta'd cause I'm just real like that. Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

The sun scorched the streets of Arlington, and the heat wave warning issued across the state of Texas did little to reflect the overwhelming weather. Coincidentally, it was the 4th of July, a seemingly exciting day for most patriotic Texans and Americans nationwide. You didn’t care much for the holiday, but it was a great excuse to enjoy the day off.

Your father had other plans. He hoped to use most of the weekend to crack open a cold one and fire up the grill. His good friend and neighbor offered to host a celebratory cookout at his place with mutual buddies tagging along, and with the newly available free time, you didn’t have any excuse to reject the offer. 

You found yourself in the backyard of the Miller’s residence, a home you’ve grown quite familiar with over the past few years, and especially since coming back from the college semester in Chicago. Initially, you had travel plans for the summer with friends, but your luck struck out when you landed an internship opportunity in Dallas, and your father was more than glad to welcome you back home.

It has been a busy summer for you since the beginning of June, and the prospect of a four-day weekend was too generous to pass up. You didn’t expect Joel Miller to be a face you saw regularly when returning to Texas, but you didn’t complain. Actually, you were much more content than you should be, and his close friendship with your dad only served as a better excuse to have him around more often.

Nursing a bottle of beer, you brought the lukewarm tip to your lips, sipping away at the tangy beverage as it washed down the thirst settling in your throat. You watched from afar as your dad was in his element, operating the grill like a soldier would his post. He flipped the burgers and poked at the hotdogs with ease, the black smoke surrounding him as he continued to cook.

“Meat’s looking nice.” You told him affirmingly with a smile and a hand on his shoulder, passing him a fresh bottle of beer.

“Nothing I haven’t done before.” He said, graciously accepting the bottle and taking a drink, sucking his teeth at the bitter taste. Miller Lite, it wasn’t his preferred Budweiser, but it will do the job. “Sun’s beating down on my back, though. Not easy to grill in this heat.”

“You’re handling it well, bearing the burden for all of us.” He laughed at that, gently kissing the top of your head in paternal affection.

From your peripheral, you observed Joel coming into his driveway, returning from a pitstop at the grocery store for extra hot dog buns and more beer. His younger brother Tommy strode ahead, carrying the buns in one arm and a bag filled with chips and salsa in the other. Behind him, Joel carried a large box of beer in his grasp, your sight trailing down his forearms to peek at the veins that protruded his skin.

His long legs sauntered over to the coolers near the tables, decorated in red, white, and blue embellishments. Sarah Miller came scampering towards her father, dragging Tommy along to reiterate a joke he had mentioned, playfully teasing her uncle. The next time Joel raised his head, his brown eyes landed on you, prolonging his gaze for a second more and giving you a charming grin before you looked away.

By 2 pm, other residents in the neighborhood and long-time friends of the Miller household flooded through the backyard, busying themselves with eating your dad’s cooking and drinking more alcohol. Some of Sarah’s friends had stopped by, engaging in the girlhood tradition of exchanging gossip or whatever the young kids spoke about in this day and age.

Every few minutes, you’d glance over to Joel to see what he was doing. Whether he was refilling the cooler, jesting with his brother, setting up the stereo, or even reminiscing with your dad, your eyes followed him wherever he went. As elegantly as possible, you approached the pair, politely stopping your dad’s conversation with his friend.

“Going to the bathroom. I’ll be back, Dad.” You told him, darting to Joel and meeting his eyes again before turning your back and walking towards the kitchen.

Stepping through the yard door to reach the stairs, you quickly trekked up to the bathroom down the hall and locked the door. Freshening yourself up in the room, you glimpsed at your reflection to fix the cleavage of your dress, making your breasts more prominent. A minute goes by, and you find yourself waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

At the three-minute mark, you hear a knock at the door, two firm taps followed by three smaller ones. Before opening it, you hid behind the door, allowing Joel’s broad figure to enter the gap and step inside. The click of the lock broke the tense silence in the room, and your lower back was pinned against the edge of the bathroom sink with Joel’s rough hands on your hips.

“Took you long enough. Thought you wouldn’t come up.” You muttered to him, his lips quickly leaving a trail of kisses over the side of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry darlin’, your dad wanted to have a chat,” Joel said hastily, his mouth occupied with tasting the skin of your collarbone as your hand rubbed the hair on his nape. “Been thinkin’ about you since the other night.”

You beamed at Joel’s comment, the genuine tone of his voice brought comfort after hearing his confession. You didn’t know how this “relationship” with Joel happened if you were willing to call it a relationship to begin with. He wasn’t supposed to be this close to you, to know you so intimately, but the way you’ve inhabited his mind since returning to Texas was almost too much to bear.

He drove you home one late night from a club downtown, not wanting to bother calling your dad or worrying about taking an Uber alone. Ever the gentleman, he kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel, trying his hardest not to skim at your bare thighs when your mini skirt shifted higher up your leg.

You thanked him with a drunk kiss on the cheek, drawing away only to have his thumb caress your chin, luring you forward to mesh your lips against his own. The memories of that night were fuzzy, but what you remembered most was the feel of his hand curling around your neck and his cock thrusting in and out of your cunt, molding you to the length of him until you ached and woke up in his bed the next morning.

That happened a month ago. It was meant to be a one-time thing, an accident after too many tequila shots at the bar. But the convenience of having a capable man like Joel across the street was something you wouldn’t find back on campus. It couldn’t be so wrong to fuck your father’s best friend, not when it felt like reaching a high every time he made you cum.

“If you don’t say anything, I won’t either, and your old man never needs to find out. This stays between us.”

He told you that after the second time you “accidentally” slept with him, and since then, you have been around Joel whenever your father wasn’t paying attention. Having to dodge your dad along with Tommy and Sarah on Joel’s end wasn’t easy, but it was doable. You’d usually meet him late at night when you were free, opting to have fun in the backseat of his truck. When you both had the luxury of time, you’d spend the day at his house when Sarah was having sleepovers or when your dad was out of the house.

Any time you weren’t at work, or Joel wasn’t busy juggling his job and caring for Sarah, you spent it with him. So far, your summer has gone much better than you expected.

“You just saw me two days ago.” The smirk on Joel’s face was infectious, his signature dimples poking through as he feverishly kissed you again.

“Still not enough, and your dress ain’t helpin’ my case.”

“What’s wrong with my dress? Thought you liked it when I got dolled up for you.” The lightly colored sundress was a simple addition to your wardrobe, throwing it on for the barbecue. Despite the tame silhouette that hugged your figure, the low neckline sent all the blood in Joel’s body rushing south the minute he saw you on his front doorstep.

“Oh, I like it very much. It’s just a shame I can’t fuck you the way I want.” He pressed his hips into your lower stomach, the dark denim of his jeans doing nothing to conceal the bulge hidden underneath.

“How much time do you think we have before they send over the search party?” You asked him, gasping when you felt a soft nip behind your ear. 

“Five minutes, maybe eight. Your dad’s busy makin’ ribs, and everyone’s occupied downstairs for now.”

Joel maneuvered himself down to his knees, playing with the hem of your dress and raising it to your hips. His fingers grazed over the panties you wore, placing an affectionate kiss on your sensitive mound before tugging them down your smooth legs. He helped you step out of them, discreetly shoving the damp cotton into his back pocket to save for later. 

“You said we had five minutes.” Your breathless voice began to betray you, and you felt him grip your thigh with a large hand to set it over his shoulder.

“That’s all the time I need. Be a good girl and stay quiet for me, yeah?”

That was the last thing he said before he licked a languid stripe over your pussy, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to stifle the mewl that threatened to spill out. One of your hands reached down to clutch at his dark tresses, keeping him in place as he feasted on you like a man starved. 

“Fuck, Joel.” You moaned under your breath, huffing out an exhale and tossing your head back in pleasure. He hummed in reply, spreading you wider and nuzzling his face deeper between your legs, the hair on his jaw scraping your inner thighs.

Joel quickly learned what you liked, how you wanted your pussy to be treated, whether it was by his hand, his tongue, or his dick. Precise circles on your clit, diligent sucks around the sensitive nub, and two thick fingers curling inside to hit the textured spot tucked in the very roof of your entrance. He paid attention to all the signs that would signal the best way to make your body convulse under his touch and excelled in doing so.

Nudging the bridge of his nose against your bundle of nerves, he tilted his head up to wrap his plush lips around it, pulling a suppressed whimper from you with a roll of his tongue. Your hazy eyes opened to watch Joel, maintaining his ravenous gaze and bucking your hips, greedily seeking more friction. 

“That’s right, baby. Take what you need.” He mumbled against your folds, increasing the flicks of his tongue and dipping two thick fingers deep inside you, bending them just right.

The warmth that simmered deep in your belly intensified, coursing through your veins and rushing to the center of your body. Your knuckles turned white from tightly gripping the edge of the porcelain sink, and your throat bobbed to stop yourself from crying out Joel’s name. You were so close, so fucking close, whining as you quickly reached your climax. He didn’t need a warning, already familiar with the cue of your walls clenching around him when you were about to spill over his hand.

Joel gave you a blunt suck and drove the tips of his fingers further inside with practiced precision, sending you tumbling over the edge. Your legs shook from the force of it, his hand on your thigh holding you steady as he coaxed you to ride the wave all the way through. With a gentle yank of his head, he parted from you, placing one last wet kiss on your oversensitive clit before standing up straight with a grunt.

The dopey smile plastered on your face said all that needed to be said, and Joel took it in with appreciative eyes. He brought the two digits that he used on you to his mouth, cleaning off the remnants of your slick without shame. If you two weren’t on a time crunch, you would be on your knees repaying the favor.

“You’re insane. You know that, right?” You expressed with a laugh.

“It ain’t my fault you taste better than the cool beer downstairs, sweetheart.” He kissed you then, the leftover taste of your arousal on his lips made your head fuzzy and your body pulse. “You should go back before your old man wonders where you went.”

He dropped the hem of your dress back down, smoothing out any creases while you adjusted the neckline and fixed up the rest of your flush appearance. The plan was simple: you walked out first, and Joel followed a few minutes later with some eloquent excuse to use for cover. Surprisingly, it usually worked without a hitch, you two had this down to a science after all.

“I’m still seeing you later tonight, right?” You almost didn’t want to ask him that, afraid you’d seem too eager for his attention. But he was always there with the reassuring answer you wanted to hear.

“Yeah, baby, you will. I’ll come by and grab you. Now go, I gotta take care of this.” Joel gestured to the obvious tent in his jeans, your hand reaching for it to caress him with your palm. The rumble of a groan vibrated through his chest, kissing him once more and moving to the door. He spanked your ass before you slipped out of his grasp, turning back to catch his cheeky expression and leaving him in the bathroom to tend to his own needs.

You strolled back into the backyard with a pep in your step and found your dad setting aside a fresh round of cooked hot dogs and burgers for the crowd. He drenched the ribs in a concoction reminiscent of barbecue sauce, closed the grill to leave them to cook, and saw you closing near him.

“You alright, hun? Got worried the beer hit you the wrong way for a second.” Your father’s eyes were full of concern, soothing him with a shake of your head. If only he knew where his best friend’s mouth had been a few minutes ago.

“Nah, the beer is just fine, promise. How about a bite to eat? I’m hungry.”

Munching away at your burger, Joel returned to the yard just as you expected, with no hard-on and more charcoal he was allegedly looking for in the garage. You eyed him as he spoke to Tommy, accepting a new beer bottle and taking an ample sip. He knew you were paying attention to him despite his face remaining neutral, but his eyes told you another story, something only meant for the two of you to understand.

A calm breeze swept through the backyard and up your legs through your dress, forcing you to remember that you were bare underneath the flowy material. The culprit had the evidence safely tucked in one of the drawers of his dresser, away from sight and probably already stained with his release.

You didn’t need to worry, you know you’ll get them back later tonight.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[magicians-abode]

"A slip of the tongue"

[Chilchuck Tims x gender neutral reader]

Warnings: none ‐ fluff ahead - one suggestive comment

At some point during the group's adventuring themselves deep into the dungeon once again, although he wasn't sure when, Chilchuck grew accustomed, in a way, to the way you treated him so differently from the rest.

You always liked to tease him and compliment him. Not like you didn't compliment the others. But you seemed to have a knack for sparing all your attention for when he was near you.

And despite his own rules of not mixing his personal life with work, he found himself sighing in annoyance at himself when he noticed how everyday he'd expect, almost too happy for his own liking, a compliment from you.

Today was no different for everyone. They'd been wondering through the halls of the fourth floor when Marcille's stomach rumbled, catching the attention of everyone.

—Sorry... so much walking is making me hungry again— she huffed, knowing damn well that Senshi would probably make them stop to cook another hearty monster based meal.

—Yeah, me too. After all, we've only had those coinbugs today as a snack. They were tasty but not that filling— (y/n) said as they placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. Everyone agreed to keep walking a bit more and then they would stop to eat properly this time.

And when they reached to that point, Senshi murmured something about "keeping the young ones well nourished" and he got to work on the cooking.

Chilchuck offered to help by peeling something he didn't remember the name of right now, and (y/n) couldn't help but stare as he worked skillfully with his hands.

—Those hands would be good with a partner— they mumble to him as they decide to sit by his side. The comment makes his hands falter for a quick moment, and he looks up at them perplexed.

—Don't go around saying things like that!— he huffs to them, a spark of a blush blooming on his frowning face.—That is so inappropriate...— he mumbles with embarrassment as he goes back to peeling, and (y/n) doesn't bother containing the giggle that erupts from them.

—You're so handsome when you blush, you know that?—.

—I'm not blushing— he denied the fact— and yes I am handsome, you don't need to tell me.— Despite his own embarrassment, he didn't pass the opportunity for playful or teasing banter. That's just how he was. And that's just how they loved him.

Marcille watched them and nudged Laios, excited as if she were reading another one of the chapters on her romance novels. Laios just smiled and went back to watching Senshi cook, more interested in the food than in their companions flirting with each other.

Marcille was glad she had something else to pay attention to beside the monster cooking in front of her that she had to consume later.

—You took your gloves off...— (y/n) noticed, paying that much attention to him.

—Well I wouldn't want to... contaminate the food— he mumbled. (y/n) looked at his hands, and then at the gloves, and then at their own hands. They wondered if he wouldn't mind if they just...

Slipping the finger-less gloves on one hand and then the other, the leather cold to the touch, they gasp in an exaggerated manner just to catch his attention.

—They're so comfy— they close and open their hands, and Chilchuck turns their head to see what they were talking about.

—What is–? Hey! Who said you could borrow my gloves?— he forgets the knife and the food he finished peeling and goes to grab their hands— you desperately want to be me that much?— he chuckles teasingly, observing their fingers. —honestly they don't look half bad on you— he places the palms of his hands softly against (y/n)'s, looking at the difference.

—Oh my spells, just kiss already!— shouts an incredibly happy Marcille as she watches them interact in such an adorable way, interrupting their moment.

Chilchuck scoffs, looking away but not letting go of their hands— as if— he mumbles pretending to be upset by her "stupid" comment. In reality, his heart pounded in his chest as the idea flashed on his mind, igniting a blush on his cheeks once again.

—Ouch, you think I'm that ugly?— they pout playfully, placing a hand over their chest in fake hurt.

—I–! stop it!— he tsked, his eyes flying to look at them—I never said that!— he admits aloud.

His cheeks flush further in realization, even his ears going red at his slip.

—Aww— Marcille and Laios watch from the sidelines, amused by how they joked with each other.

—Thank you— (y/n) mumbles to him, sort of embarrassed by the sudden compliment as they watch Chilchuck cross his arms.

—Whatever...— he stands up and walks to where Senshi is, faking sudden interest in the food that was almost done.

His heart beat wildly inside his ribcage, and the thought that, maybe growing closer to one party member wasn't that bad, crossed his mind to stay there for a while.

[kestisvrse]

bad for business

pairing ⋆ anthony lockwood x gn!reader. fluff with a bit of angst. fake dating.

synopsis ⋆ the three times you found yourself fake dating anthony lockwood.

warnings ⋆ swearing, reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood, being followed, kissing (written by someone without their first kiss send help). | wc: 1.4k

♫ - bad for business by sabrina carpenter

1. a walk home

“ladies first.” you snort at lockwoods comment as he holds the door for you to exit arif’s, a box of donuts secured in your hands.

“wow what a gentleman.” you joke making lockwood laugh a little as you begin your walk towards home, a comfortable silence falling between you two, a minute or so passes.

“someone’s following us.” lockwood says nonchalantly, you furrow your eyebrows looking at him, “he was standing outside arif’s when we went in, he was staring at you the whole time and now he is getting closer.” lockwood says looking over his shoulder, shuffling slightly closer towards you.

“well what do we do?” you ask slightly panicked.

“hold my hand.”

“i’m sorry?” you say, he failed to answer as he grabs the box of donuts out of your hands, using his free hand to intertwine your fingers.

“just trust me okay? maybe if he thinks we are together he will leave us alone.” lockwood clarified.

“o-okay, i guess” you mutter, a light blush painting your cheeks at the feeling of his thumb lightly rubbing your hand.

you were nearing portland row, you and lockwood standing closer together, you freeze up as he places a kiss on the top of your head to nonchalantly glance behind you two, “i see him, he is walking away. just… keeping holding on until we get home… just incase.” you nod, silently agreeing with him.

he didn’t let go of your hand until he placed the box of donuts on the kitchen table.

2. too close for comfort

lockwood had convinced you, lucy and george to go to this ‘ball’, you honestly didn’t know what to call it. it was a fancy building filled with agents dressed up and the adults that exploit their talents for money, celebrating nothing in particular and somehow, lockwood and co. got invites.

lockwood looked like he was at home, while george uncomfortably tugged at the collar of his button up and wandered off with lucy, leaving you and lockwood, standing in the middle of the ballroom.

“why are we here, lockwood?” you pried.

“why not? every agent in london is here.” he responds.

“that doesn’t mean we have to be.” you shot back, annoyed by a man who pushed past you, causing you to knock shoulders with anthony.

“it’s a good opportunity, to meet new people and get our name out there.”

“with our competition? yeah alright. i need something to drink.” you wandered off.

some time had passed, it included you leaning against the wall observing everyone that passed by, you had found george and lucy at one point where george had gave up and went home while lucy decided to investigate around for god knows what. you decided it was time to find lockwood again.

wandering around aimlessly you spotted him in the sea of tuxes, talking to a blonde girl, in a blue 90s like prom dress, inching closer and closer to lockwood.

you rolled your eyes at the sight, lockwoods charming smile seemingly working again, but it didn’t look like he used it on purpose this time.

“there you are, i’ve been looking for you everywhere!” you smoothly entered the conversation, linking your arm with his and his whole face seemed to light up.

“oh.” the blonde commented, squinting her eyes, “who’s this?”

“i’m-“ he cut you off, taking the lead.

“this is my partner.” lockwood replied, you smiled at the girl as she realized she misread the situation, quickly saying goodbyes and walking off.

“i couldn’t tell if you needed saving or not.” you explained, a hidden apology heard beneath your words just incase he was enjoying the girls company.

“no i did, thank you.” he said, making eye contact, “maybe we should head home now?”

“let’s find lucy first.” you suggested, and he sent you a grin.

that damn grin.

3. distraction

you had warned him.

you had told him there had to be a better way to get information that didn’t involve breaking and entering. but as per usual he used his charisma and webbed you into the whole plan.

and now, you two were running down alleyways, after being caught. ‘i told you so’ repeating over and over again in your head as you focused on running, and of course you reached another problem.

“shit!” you whispered, lockwood dragging you back behind a wall, your only escape had multiple body guards roaming the area.

“how the hell did they even get there.” lockwood said to himself.

“what do we do?? there are two other body guards about to block off the way we came from!” you panted out, catching your breath from running.

“i have a crazy idea.” lockwood made eye contact with you, he seemed nervous as he ran his hand through his hair.

“all your ideas are crazy, anthony.” you countered.

“just listen okay?” he whispers, you slowly nod, “if we can make it seem like, we have no idea what’s going on around us and that we accidentally stumbled up here maybe they won’t think it’s us.” you gave him a blank stare.

“what are you even suggesting right now lockwood?!” you grumbled, faintly you heard footsteps approaching.

“we do not have time for this, do you trust me?”

“do i have a choice?” you quipped, but suddenly the conversation was over as he cupped your cheeks and suddenly his lips were on yours. you froze up, you expected his plan to be anything but this, but then you heard the footsteps turn the corner and you needed to act just like him, quickly kissing back.

his lips were chapped, rough against your soft ones. as you brought your hands up to his face, his hands moved down to your waist, pulling you closer. it felt eager, like you had been waiting to do this forever, and it felt right.

“HEY!” you two snapped apart from the loud yell, breathless as you stare at the taller man infront of you “this is private property, you kids can’t be here.” his tone was threatening, making you tense up.

“we are so sorry sir.” you replied sweetly, “we didn’t know, we will leave right away!” you grab lockwood’s hand and hurried towards the exit before the man could question you anymore.

you held hands all the way home, but didn’t mutter a word to each other.

4. overdue confession

it had been around a week since lockwood had kissed you. you hadn’t spoken. the house having an awkward atmosphere as you avoided lockwood like the plague.

you couldn’t avoid the knock on your door, unfortunately.

“come in.” you called out from your spot on the bed, expecting lucy to walk in but were met with lockwood.

he was wearing his usual suit but he looked disheveled, his tie loose, his hair slightly messy and he looked so tired, even more tired than usual, he was a mess.

“hey.” he spoke just above a whisper, scared any louder you would run away from him again.

“oh. hi.” you sat up in your bed, suddenly looking anywhere but him, fiddling with your hands.

“i want to apologize, i shouldn’t have kissed yo-“ he began.

“we wouldn’t have gotten out of there if you hadn’t, it’s okay.” you stated, sniffling slightly. your bed dipped as he sat down.

“then why won’t you talk to me?” you looked up to his eyes, “please talk to me.” he begged, you looked into each others eyes for a moment.

“i was avoiding you because of the fact that i.. i didn’t want the kiss to end.” you confessed, “i like you, lockwood, and i didn’t want to ruin anything so i thought avoiding you would be better..” you trailed off, the air was tense as he stared at you.

“oh thank god.” he laughed out.

“what?” your anxiety kicked in, as you stared at him.

“i was scared to confess, i’m glad you did first.” your eyebrows furrow at his response, “i really like you, i have since i met you. i didn’t want the kiss to end either.”

your eyes widened slightly, studying his voice for any sound of sarcasm.

“can i kiss you again?” he whispered, scared of your rejection, you just slowly nodded looking down at his lips, he lent in.

his lips weren’t chapped this time, they were soft and you took notice of just how well they fit against yours. this kiss was softer than the first, it washed your anxiety away, and the tense air disappeared. he pulled away and laid his forehead against yours.

“i thought i was being dreadfully obvious about my feelings.”

“you were not.” you laughed at him

“oh no i was, you are just oblivious.” he responded

“shut up.” you said, and he did as his lips met yours yet again.

[haikyu-mp4]

In need of a manicure

word count; 2086 – gn!reader I think, nb! too much blushing

You’re a manager for Date Tech and have been watching over them since the start of the year. The most recent memorable addition to the team was Koganegawa, nicknamed by the third-years as the giant setter. He didn’t progress especially fast, but he had a strong will and nothing could fit better into the group of the iron wall.

After a training match with Karasuno, you noticed Koganegawa talking to Kageyama, the so-called genius setter, about taping up his nails and fingers. You’d already noticed the dark-haired boy fixing his nails between matches, keeping them clean-cut so he wouldn’t have to use tape. That awakened an idea, and you had your own conversation with Tobio a bit later for some tips.

That’s what led to you bringing a nail file to school the next day, quietly observing the team’s volleyball practice until they were finished. Now’s the time to initiate your plan. The boys were tired and sweaty, and you handed out their water bottles with a smile and ‘good job’ for each talented player. After they had cooled off a bit and were about to start cleaning up the gym, you tapped Koganegawa on the shoulder, waiting patiently for him to turn his attention around. As he turned to you, he straightened up with an immediate nervous reaction, as if you were some sergeant of the military.

“Hi, Kogane?” you started, heat rising to your ears at the attention. “Do you have a minute?”

“ANYTHING YOU NEED!” he responded loudly, even bowing. You weren’t that startled, already getting used to that kind of behaviour, but you waved your hand a bit to try and calm him down.

“Can I see your hands, please?” you asked, already looking down as he hesitantly put them up even if he repeated your request curiously. You could see some of the other players glancing at you two with a curiosity matching Koganegawa’s. “I asked Kageyama how he cares for his nails…” you somewhat mumbled, in the process of unwrapping the tape from the boy’s fingers while he looked at your touching hands with wide eyes. A warm blush was taking over his face, making him glance over his shoulder at his upperclassmen and then quickly back at you, almost afraid that the opportunity would just pass him by if he looked away.

“Because- uhh... because he doesn’t tape them?” he managed to ask, trying to breathe even if you were so close. You looked up at him, giving him a bright smile that almost melted him. The only person present who didn’t know about Kogane’s little crush on you seemed to be yourself, not noticing how a boy or two were hiding behind Aone so they could laugh in secret.

“Yes! I was thinking, maybe if we take care of your nails, you won’t keep hurting them. Sorry… I heard you tell him about that.” you said, relatively confidently at first before it turned into a mumble at the shy confession. Koganegawa almost teared up, bowing again.

“THANK YOU!” He didn’t get to say much more, as the other boys made dramatic comments about how lucky they were to have such a caring, beautiful manager. He wanted to say more, like how that was a really great idea, but he seemed to be stuck with the cute smile on his face. You just let their words brush off your shoulders, already fishing the nail file from your pocket and starting with his thumb. You held his hand in yours, the other one filing away carefully, avoiding the sore spots where the nails were already damaged. His hands were so strong that you imagined he wouldn’t need as much tape just for blocking.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit too straightforward.” You started excusing as you were about halfway, carefully dropping the hand you finished and looking up at his face, which wasn’t that easy when you were so close. These high school boys were so tall.

“Not at all! Well, yes.. but… I don’t mind,” he answered, finally finding his voice if only to make sure you didn’t excuse yourself for being especially nice. His eyes carefully gazed upon your face, especially focusing on the rosy tint of your cheeks. He hadn’t seen it so often because you were typically very comfortable around the team.

“Good!” You responded with a smile, but it trailed off into an awkward silence. You had expected Koganegawa to give you his other hand, so you waited until you realised you would have to pick it up yourself. “Almost done,” you mumbled as you did.

“Maybe I’ll be a better setter if I don’t need to have them taped up all the time,” he wondered under his breath, eyes now watching your connected hands again while you filed. You made sure there were no ridges or anything. That’s why it was taking so long! Not at all because holding his hand even like this was kind of nice.

“You’re progressing very well as a setter,” you answered automatically, knowing so from how you watched them. It was your job in the club, after all, to keep track. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself more than necessary just for a club,” you continued, chuckling to yourself at the thought of how Kogane made this into a contact sport within the team, tumbling into the other blockers when he got a bit too excited. His ambition and spirit were part of what drew you to him in the first place.

Kogane wondered if there was smoke in his lungs, feeling them tighten and then butterflies erupting at your kind words. “Th-thank you,” he said again. Most of the other guys had finished their own business of cleaning out the gym and were moving on to the locker room. Futakuchi might be mentally preparing something for Kogane to fix when he was done being pampered. Not out of jealousy or anything…

One week later, you’re sitting in your classroom with your friends. It’s lunch period and you’re all chatting away about this or that. There was some extra energy in you to finish this school day, knowing that you have volleyball practice after.

However, your attention suddenly diverts from your friend who is telling all of you about something she watched on TV, to a head of angry-bird hair quickly zooming past the windows out in the hallway. Only a second later, Koganegawa appeared in the doorway. His eyes looked around for a moment before finding yours and lighting up like a golden retriever. You sent him a small wave and your friends stopped talking abruptly as the tall setter walked towards you. “Hello!” He said, perhaps a little too loudly for the setting, but no one said anything about it.

“Kogane, what’s up?” You asked, a bit confused. It’s not that you minded, but you rarely communicated with the players outside of the club unless you passed each other in the hallway. The boy bowed to your friends and looked back at you.

“I was thinking, maybe we should do my nails before practice this time?” he said with emphasis on ‘before’ and looking quite determined.

You laughed, a kind of nervous yet happy reaction. It was short and light, but you couldn’t help but adore him. Kogane wasn’t sure how to feel, but he didn’t have much choice but to stare when you looked so gorgeous. “You’re right!” You finally said, leaning over your bag to fish out the nail file again and letting your friends go back to their conversation while you had your attention elsewhere. They already knew about your crush on the setter from how you spoke about him, even if you didn’t know yourself. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll do it in between finishing my lunch.”

Following this episode, some might say you paid even more attention to Kogane than before. He would come into your classroom at least once a week so you could fix up his nails, even going as far as adding nail polish which he really liked. Especially when yours matched. For volleyball practice, it seemed like he was turning to you every time he felt he did something right and it would always surprise him how you were already looking at him and sent him a thumbs up. The team was fed up, not seriously of course, but there was something disgusting about this whole young love thing. How you two would blush and stutter, awkwardly trying to spend more time together while also trying to not be too obvious in your approaches. They just had to do something.

So Futakuchi swept up beside you after one particular practice, leaning on your shoulder as if you were so much shorter than him. “Fancy joining some of us to go get food?” He asked as if it was the most charming offer ever.

You snorted a laugh and hummed for a moment as if considering, before shrugging his arm off you. “Sure.” You glanced over your shoulder at some of the other guys who were slowly emerging from the locker room. “Who’s going?” You asked, obviously curious about one person in particular, and the smirk on Futakuchi’s face made it obvious that he knew.

“Your favourite will be there.” He teased before winking and walking back to join the others.

When all of you got to the chosen fast-food restaurant, you were walking alongside your favourite setter in front of the others, not noticing anything around you as you discussed whatever odd topic came to mind. It was fun and you enjoyed talking to him outside of school or practice. Maybe you should do this more often. You were so distracted, in fact, that neither of you two noticed when all the others scrambled away and left you, giggling to themselves. Koganegawa was the one who finally looked around, about to ask Onagawa something.

You stopped as well, asking “Where the hell did the others go?” Koganegawa checked his phone, eyes widening at the message from Futakuchi in the team group chat that you managers weren’t in.

Say we had to leave and take your chance to hang out;)

So he looked at you, stuttering for a moment before explaining. “Futakuchi said they had to go.” It wasn’t a very convincing or fleshed-out explanation, but with the captain’s name involved you could only sigh and accept your fate. He wasn’t slick, to say the least.

“We can just order and leave if you want,” you suggested with that sweet smile of yours, looking up at the guy with somewhat hopeful eyes. At least he wished they were hopeful.

“I don’t mind hanging out,” he answered, sticking to the script he got. “If you want!” and so you both nodded and settled into comfortable conversation, spending the evening eating and learning more about each other outside of the court.

Next practice, the team was shocked to find out the two of you still weren’t admitting to your feelings for each other. Still blushing and giggling and trying not to be too obvious while everyone else watched on, dumbfounded.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Sakunami asked Koganegawa while they were getting dressed for practice, making him nervous just thinking about it.

“What if she says no,” he pouted. Futakuchi pinched between his eyebrows, putting a harsh hand on his underclassman’s shoulder.

“We promise you she won’t.”

So while you were handing out the water bottles, Kogane just asked.

“Y/n! Will you go out with me?” he yelled and closed his eyes, like not seeing your face would make the possible rejection better. You waited with rosy cheeks and that sweet smile of yours until he peeked one eye open.

“Yes.”

Years later, after high school had passed and you both tried to figure out your lives before settling into some jobs that might be permanent or might not be, you and your high school sweetheart decided this was a forever kind of thing. The two of you wanted to figure out all of life’s obstacles together, and Kogane got the assistance of his new teammates for a sweet and small proposal. Kyotani and Tsukishima were not exactly overly excited as they distracted you for an hour or two before leading you to the magical spot your boyfriend had picked out, where he was waiting with the brightest smile.

Let’s just say your fiance’s nails and yours looked exceptional in the engagement photos.

masterlist

/This is actually one of the first pieces I ever wrote for Haikyu, but I felt like it wasn't good enough to post

[lostinforestbound]

Hi, like your writings a lot ❤️ may I ask for a request?

What about Rolan asking sorcerer/wizard Tav to be his teacher after Lorroakan death? Tav has never been bad for him, only saving his life and his siblings, giving advices and protection, so, why not? At least, it a good way to become closer OR Rolan quietly (or not quietly) pining for powerful Tav

Thank you so much for your patience! I think I'm finally back in the game! I actually have thought up this situation a lot (especially with my own Tav who's a Storm Sorcerer, maybe I'll introduce him sometime soon)! This was a lot of fun to explore! I'm also a sucker for pining tropes!

Rolan with Sorcerer!Tav Teaching Him Magic

When Rolan takes over the tower, he makes it his sole mission to master the weave. It's harder than it looks, but he's very determined.

There's some aspects he doesn't understand yet, though. Especially how those bloody sorcerers are able to manipulate existing spells and make them more powerful

When everything is over, the Netherbrain defeated, he begrudgingly asks Tav to him about "Metamagic".

Can he learn the aspects of Metamagic on his own? Of course he can! Not only is he a prodigy, he's now the master of Ramazith's tower. All the knowledge he has access to gives him the ultimate advantage.

But he wants to get closer to Tav. He's been pining for them so helplessly since the Shadow Cursed Lands. This is his one opportunity he can spend time with them without it seeming strange.

He also knows Tav is the one person that won't treat him like an idiot. They'll treat him as an equal, a fellow peer of the arcane arts. He'll be respected.

Tav seems happy to do so, teaching all they know about the basics of Metamagic, how they're able to use it, and how Rolan might be able to use it as well.

Rolan can't see it through his frustration, but Tav is so confident in his abilities. While this may take time, they truly believe Rolan can master Metamagic even without being a sorcerer, and pass their own abilities. They may be more advanced than he is, but Rolan is a quick learner.

Gods, sometimes Rolan is so damn distracted. Why must he get so flustered when Tav adjusts his form? Why are their hands so warm? Have they always been touchy? It's all in his head, certainly.

Writing Blurb

Sparks are flying in the palms of Rolan's hands, carefully trying to split the Witch Bolt into two. He never realized the amount of strain it takes to separate one central point of magic, and the amount of concentration it takes. Rolan knows a wizard isn't supposed to be able to do this, but he's also no ordinary wizard. He can do this if he just-

Tav observes him and his hands carefully, and his concentration falters when he realizes they're staring. Sweat beads on his brow as he tries to keep the spell together, but unfortunately, it fades into nothing after all the hard work.

"Damn it!" He practically shouts, shaking out his hands in frustration.

"You were a lot closer that time." Tav comments, about to put a hand on his shoulder, but he turns away before they can.

"We've been practicing this same thing for days. DAYS!" He exclaims, running his hands through his now sweat-damp hair, "Why can't I get this? I should be able to do this by now!"

He's hardly the impressive "master of the tower" he pretends to be. How could he be such a failure? In front of Tav, no less? He's no fool, Tav is a savior of Baldur's Gate, of course they're much more advanced than he is! They know spells he hasn't even been able to touch yet, but gods damn it all, he wants to impress them with something.

He needs to be worthy of their attention. Then maybe, he'll have a slimmer of a chance with them.

They place a hand on his back, jolting him out of his thoughts. "A master of the arcane can't cast properly under stress. We can take a break-"

"No, no, I can do this," He states, raising his hands to start again, "Let me-"

Tav gently grabs his hands, interrupting the spell in an instant. Oh, how he hates it when he feels his face flush; not from exertion, but from embarrassment. He helplessly imagined a situation where he got to hold their hands, but it wasn't anything like this. He hoped it would've been in a more romantic setting when he felt ready to woo them.

"You can't focus when you're stressed like this. I would know, I've tried." They say, summoning a mage hand idly to grab the bottle of Arabellan Dry on Rolan's desk. "Let's take a break and regroup."

He huffs in annoyance but reluctantly sits with them as they fill two glasses with the wine. They hand one over, and he immediately takes a generous sip to calm his nerves. When have they ever sat so close to him? They're practically touching knees- stop, he needs to get it together.

"You'll get it. It's impossible for a wizard unless they have sorcery in their blood."

Scoffing, he takes a few gulps of wine before speaking. "Then I will be the first."

They give him a sweet smile, ignoring how it made his heart flutter. "That's the spirit."

"I don't understand what I'm getting wrong," He quickly continues on, trying to suppress the warmth in his chest. "As soon as I think I have it in my grasp, it fails."

"We'll figure it out. I know you can do it. Think about how you made some spells your own. The Mage Armor, the Thunderwave, the Magic Missle- you have so much potential. Rolan: Master of Ramazith's Tower, always achieving the impossible."

He looks away when he feels his face grow hot again, not noticing when Tav gets up. When he finally turns towards them, they're offering a hand to get back up, so he takes it after pulling himself together, wine forgotten.

"Now, let's try again."

[hype-blue-fixation]

Pt 2/2 | The Purest Kind of Entertainment | SFW Tickle Fic [RadioRose QPR]

If you'd like some extra context, here's part one. Otherwise enjoy!

A soft knock brought a certain woman to the door. “Oh, hello Alastor! What are you doing here at this unsatanly hour?” Rosie chimed. Before he could say anything, she already grabbed his shoulders and tossed him inside her emporium. Whipping him around like a ragdoll and all he could do was smile. Genuinely smile.

“To put things simply, I may be in need of your services.”

“You already know anything in the 9 rings is yours if I can help it, darlin’!”

They took a seat in her tea room, where he marveled at all her decorations and boxes of goodies. She handed him a box of fingers. At first refusing, but then deciding that a little snack might help with nerves. “So, there’s this silly thing someone said today. It doesn’t really bother me all too much, but it did make me wonder. With you being the best and most dangerous matchmaker in all of Hell, what are ways you’ve seen demons show deep affection for each other?”

Rosie almost looked surprised. “Did someone finally catch your fancy?” “None whatsoever. This is purely for the sake of deals and appeals, my dear.”

In her many hundred years of being a hellborn overlord, Rosie learned how to read anyone. Especially her intimate friend. She already knew not to suggest anything remotely related to sex or kissing, and that cuddles were something he’d only recently come to terms with “tolerating” exclusively with her. To break the silence of her thinking, she suggested the obvious: licking faces, love bites, clawing into each other’s flesh.

“I’m well aware of the ways that cannibals show affection. That would never fly outside your lovely little community…or the twisted kinky minds that deserve to be double dead.” Alastor commented.

“Of course, of course.” Rosie chuckled, lost halfway in thought. She proceeded to rattle off other things, such as songs, poetry, and art designed for your loved one. A thoughtful gift, a night out, a nice dance, playing a good ole fashioned board game in candlelight. Her strategies were endless, and some even piqued his interest.

Having the sense that she was trying to only feed him ideas that he liked, a playful twist came to his smile. “That’s all fine and well, but what about the other ideas you’ve got?”

“The others?”

“The ones you assume I wouldn’t like.”

Rosie hummed. “Kisses, nude cuddling, bondage, se–”

“You’d be quite right.”

They both laughed. The sweet sound gave her a thought. “What about tickles?”

“Pardon?”

“Tickles! It’s one of those strange things I’m not sure if you’d like.”

Alastor blinked and cocked his head sideways. At the very least, it was something he never considered as a way to enjoy or deepen a relationship. His only experiences were as a young child when his mother played games like 3 little pigs on his toes and Noah’s Ark on his arms. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to try.

“I will see if I like that one.” he said plainly, as if he were signing up for a science experiment. Rosie’s eyebrow raised curiously, but she wouldn’t deny him the request or pass up an opportunity to teach an old demon new tricks.

A puff of magic removed his jacket and hung it neatly in the closet. She gently guided his hands to the back of his head so that his only defense was a dress shirt and suspender straps. Her hands floated at his sides. He fearlessly looked her in the eyes, almost daring her to do something. And something she did.

Her claws dug into his side, ripping out a loud scream of staticy surprise. She immediately pulled back to observe him bent forward. Expecting another attack. He kept his hands on his head suggesting he was still curious about whatever this was. Again her nails dug into his sides, there to stay. At first he couldn’t even get a laugh out, only quick deep gasps. His voice gradually found a way to be heard in each gasp, taking on the form of laughter. He managed to barely keep his hands on his head. Eyes shot wide. “God! Stop! Stop!” He forced the begs to fit into each breath.

Rosie’s claws gently rested on his sides to give him a break. His heart was pounding and small giggles trailed out in the aftermath. “You do know you could have stopped me at any point, right?” Rosie leaned in, and he suddenly remembered that he could put his arms down. “Do you like that?”

Alastor fought to gain his composure, which only resulted in a cocky smile. “It’s definitely a tool I can use.”

Rosie chuckled and slowly spidered her hands toward his armpits. He froze in complete anticipation. Wondering what she’d do next. “Tickling can be a fun activity for you and your loved ones. I can go into the chemistry of it, if you like. But it can also be a tool for power.”

He looked up into her void eyes. Deeply invested in every word. Until her fingers suddenly wiggled into his armpits and his entire body seized up. Arms pressed to his sides, lower body twisted into an unnatural shape. Joy in his smile but genuine fear in his eyes as he realized his body’s inability to move or fight back. The magic of her hands put him into a state of powerless paralysis. He barely managed to force himself to breathe, which brought along little giggles with it. Rosie’s smile widened to show she was enjoying this, perhaps a bit too much.

Her face came dangerously close to his. “Do you feel scared?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“Ha! N– No!” a stream of airy laughter kept his reply quiet.

But she knew better than that. He was terrified. Excited. Enjoying the experience. But enough was enough without a break. She slipped her hands out and he immediately hugged her. Pulling her so close to his body that it was a flesh prison. He softly giggled in her ear as he recovered from the intense moment. “Don’t do…that…again…” he said between laughs, but they both knew he didn’t mean it. 

She pouted and pulled back to look at his red face. “But you liked it! And you were so so so cute!” she cupped his cheeks in her hands.

He rolled his eyes and took one last deep sigh. “Just because you’re not anyone else, I’ll be square. I…I like it.”

“What do you like about it?” Rosie seemed pleasantly surprised and curious.

“Just promise you’ll keep quiet about what I’m going to tell you or I’ll destroy the entire town.”

“As you should.” Rosie seemed entirely unfazed by his threat.

He slowly calmed down, now feeling calm and at ease. All the tension disappeared, replaced only with peaceful and fuzzy thoughts about his lady friend. How lucky he was to have someone like her in spite of every awful thing he was. “Aside from being a fun and relaxing activity, I quite liked being able to be vulnerable and still feel…safe. You’re the only person I’ve felt that way with.”

Rosie leaned in with kissy lips. “Is this a love confession? From the great Radio Demon?”

“Sure, if it can be a pla…platon…p…friendly kind of love.”

“The term you’re looking for is ‘platonic,’ dear.”

“Yes, tha– AT!” His voice peaked as she gave him a swift surprise tickle. 

The two stared as if they expected the other person to make a move first. Rosie chuckled, a playfully sinister kind of sound. “Speaking of vulnerable, you love being afraid of me and what I can do to you, don’t you?”

Alastor had to really take on a moment of introspection. His pride screamed at him to bicker and resist. But the softened depth of his heart spoke openly. “Only because it’s you, Rose.” he said. And just to appease the ego, he added, “But remember, I can stop you any time I like. You only have power because I choose to give it to you.”

Rosie could say nothing against that. Whatever they had, something beyond normal friendship but not in the realm of the romantic, was something they didn’t truly understand. But they were glad to have it. They were both happy, relaxed, and emotionally closer in the moment. The voices of guilt in Alastor’s head were finally put to rest behind his smile, right where they belonged.

[chernabogs]

Elegy

Inc: Malleus x Reader, Lilia, 1 kobold who deserves a raise Warnings: Little bit of angst/crisis, little bit of fear of death, and anxiety WC: 4.3k.... lmao Summary: Sprites are unpaid therapists, guardians are good at catsitting, and a prince has his third life crisis in 1 year. PART 1 | PART 2

The final part of the series!

He did not anticipate ending up in the mausoleum again, and yet it’s as though something had a lure on him from within, which dragged his unwilling body along until the scent of dirt and death took away all his other senses. The crown prince did not shuffle, but he did drag his feet a little as he disturbs the earth, and his gaze moves across the room. The air is stagnant and makes him feel like a burden for stirring it so. 

The last time he came here was when he was a child. He had plenty of opportunity to come back since then, but every time he would look at the dark entrance into this abode, he would feel a terrible sense of fear which would send him scurrying back to his grandmother with his tail between his legs. The fear has since diminished now that he has endured the events at NRC. Although a sense of unease still stirs in his heart, he forces it down as he sits on a stone bench fixated in the middle of the room and looks to the tombs.

His mother and father look back, expressionless and dead-eyed. 

“... hello.” His voice breaks from lack of use as he speaks to the ghosts that linger. He has said scarce few words since his return to Briar Valley for the summer, instead letting his retainers, and servants, and senate do all the talking for him. He clears away the dryness before continuing. “I figured it would be best to quickly visit and check on you. I see the groundskeepers have done well at clearing away the weeds.”

The stone statues offer no response to his comment as he takes in their features. He has inherited much of his mother, and extraordinarily little of his father. He does have Levan’s ears, and his lips, but Meleanor’s eyes and aquiline nose trump these features and demand observers’ attention. His fingers reach up to touch his face as he looks at hers, mapping their features together as he once did when he was younger. 

Then with a sigh, he drops his hands back to his lap and clasps them tightly together. He has come for reasons other then a familial obligation to check on his parents' tombs. His father had been a Duke, only a rank below his mother’s status, and so he isn’t too sure if his plight is even something he can rationalize to them.

Not that they can hear, anyway. His mother is nothing but dust and his father isn’t even in the bloody tomb. 

“I am having,” he begins slowly, before gesturing outwards. “A crisis.”

Well put. He is certain the mice and kobolds listening to him are nodding in their sympathies right now. 

“I am feeling a lot of things that I am not fully understanding, and I would quite rather brick myself up here then talk about them with anyone.” He already had Lilia giving him looks the entire boat ride back to the Valley. That had been two days of seasickness (which he still can’t rationalize how he has) and unbridled guilt eating away in his mind. “But you cannot comment, so I reasoned yours would be the best ears for listening to this.” 

He hears a chattering from somewhere in the back corner and pauses long enough to frown in the noise's direction. Kobolds, indeed. He would need to pass word to the groundskeepers about that. After the noises cease, he turns back to the tombs.

“There is a human who I seem to have developed quite an attachment to.” 

His mother would have cut him off right about here. From what he’s gathered, she was not the biggest fan of humans. His father on the other hand would have shushed her and bade him continue. Malleus finds himself creating very inspiring visuals in his mind of the entire interaction. 

“At the same time, I find myself seemingly paralyzed—”

“Silly rats, make silly hats!” A sharp, rasping voice causes Malleus’ jaw to snap shut and an unamused look to cross his face. The kobolds, again. He looks over his shoulder to see one of the small, gaudy creatures shambling along after a rat, which is scurrying as fast as possible to its nest. The kobold gnashes its sharp teeth while chanting, “Run, rat, run!” 

Malleus exhales through his nose before turning away for a second time now. “As I was saying, seemingly paralyzed at the prospect of doing anything regarding these feelings. I have lied to them numerous times now to remove myself from situations, and a few times I have acted beneath myself in their presence, and yet they have stubbornly remained by my side. They are sympathetic, and they seem to understand, but they are—”

“Rat! Rat!” The kobold’s shrill voice causes Malleus to grit his teeth again before twisting around on the bench. 

“Oh, for gods sake, I am trying to peacefully have a crisis here!” He finally hisses at the creature, which freezes in its place and looks at him with beady eyes. The rat takes this moment to skitter into a hole in one of the tombs. Only when its tail vanishes does the kobold look at where it last was with a forlorn expression. 

“Rat…” It rasps out. Then it looks back to Malleus. “Starving.”

“Aren’t we all?” Malleus grumbles before turning to the tombs again. He barely gets a word in before the kobold has skittered to his side and onto the bench. He can feel the muscle in his jaw twitch as he looks down at the creature. 

“Young master, hm?” It croaks as it begins tugging on his sleeve, likely trying to see if he has anything to offer. Malleus waves a hand and a plate of meat appears, delighting the creature as it begins to eat. 

“Anyway, I am at a loss.” Is what he concludes with as he looks at his parents once more. “My fear holds my tongue and I sense the opportunity of something slipping further away from me. Perhaps I should have remained sequestered in these halls if only to prevent such a cacophony of emotions from erupting in me.” 

“Fear inhibits us.” The kobold rasps as it pauses between bites. It licks its lips with its blackened tongue and looks up to the prince. Kobolds are cunning creatures, even if they may not present themselves as such all the time. This one assists in cleaning the tombs—for a fee. “What does young master fear?” 

“Death.” Malleus replies dryly, entertaining the kobold for now. He’s already treating his dead parents as his therapists—why not add another thing to the mix?

“Inevitable.” The kobold chokes on a piece of meat before correcting itself and continuing to gorge. It pauses between bites to keep speaking, however. “Why fear what is unavoidable? Silly. As silly as my silly rat. Best to live. Best to welcome him into the home when he comes knocking. Bam! Bam!”

The kobold lets out a shrill cackle, which causes Malleus to shake his head.

“I don’t think you understand the delicacy of my situation. Death will not come into my home before it does the home of my present disruptor.” He scoffs. “I already am surrounded by enough silent tombs. I have little interest in adding another.”

“Young master doesn’t know Death’s schedule. Death could be in his home tomorrow. Death could be in his home right now.” The kobold cackles again as it licks the remaining blood from the plate. “Silly to let Death cage you before he is required to.” 

Malleus falls quiet as he watches the kobold. It speaks so plainly to him, pointing out the holes in his mind’s argument. He knows he’s orchestrating this to keep himself safe from the pain of loss, but it feels as though he’s only hurting himself more by withholding from his wants. 

The minds battle with the heart—a war as old as time. 

“Is young master not hungry?” The kobold asks as its black eyes meet with his. It licks away blood from its fingers. “Does young master not wish to indulge? We fae are creatures of indulgences. Silly, to deny nature. Perhaps young master is my silly rat instead.”

It gives a wide, sharp grin, which Malleus returns with a sneer before waving a hand and vanishing the creature to another part of the tomb. The plate clatters onto the bench next to him, and the scent of copper lingers. 

The kobold had a point, and the more he thinks about it, the more the point makes sense. Death could be in his home tomorrow. Death could be in his home right now. Malleus didn’t know when he would go, nor when the Prefect would go. He couldn’t control that—but what he could control is what he could do right now. His fingers tap a pattern on his thigh as he looks at his parents. 

They married during a war. They had him during a war. They lived every day knowing the same thing he does—that Death could be in their home within a few minutes. And yet, they embraced life anyway. They loved, and were loved, and left a legacy behind. 

Hells. 

Hells. 

Lilia was wrong when he said Malleus wasn’t ill—what he should have said was; “Malleus, I fear you may have a case of idiotitis.”

His parents, still together despite one having gone well before the other. You, still by his side despite all that he’s done. 

Malleus swears under his breath before pushing himself to his feet again. He brushes a few stray vines away from the hands of his mother and father, which are carved to be holding each other before moving towards the tomb's exit. He has a letter to write, a mistake to rectify, and an order for a large quantity of meat to be sent to this tomb.

_____________________________________________________

There is nothing as banal and painful as waiting for a reply. Malleus wonders if he should have telephone lines installed all throughout the Valley, if only to save him the agony of waiting for your arrival. His hands are pressed against the glass of the window he leans on for the third time today as his eyes burn holes into the gates down below. He could have sent you a text by now, asking if you’re on your way yet.

Goddamn phone lines.

“I should get the royal painter.” A sly, teasing voice snaps him out of his focus as he looks over his shoulder. Lilia hovers close by—close enough that Malleus wonders how long he’s been here—with a coy glint in his gaze. “This is quite the artistic scene.”

“I am in misery.” Malleus declares as he presses his forehead to the glass. The hard thunk of his scales connecting with it makes Lilia wince briefly.

“And you’re bound to get a migraine if you do that again. Be patient, Malleus. Prefect did say they would be here today.” Lilia pauses. “With Grim in tow.”

Malleus scowls briefly as he turns his head to look to his guardian again. “You are on Grim duty. Go take him to the ponds for an hour or so.”

“Sacrificing those poor fish to that bottomless pit of a stomach...” Lilia sighs and shakes his head in false despondence. “A noble death they shall have.”

Malleus refuses to deign him with a response as he looks back to the gates. A few of the royal guards are pacing their routes, and in the courtyard below he can see the servants rushing through last minute preparations. His declaration that a ‘friend’ was arriving (because he can’t give away his motives too easily) had sent the entire palace into a frenzy. Malleus had never invited someone over, save for Silver, Sebek, and Lilia.

“You won’t be able to see the carriage until it arrives. The bend on the mountain pass certainly makes sure of that.” Lilia drifts over again and frowns out at the scene beyond. “I do think we should set up a mirror in Black Scale. If you intend to invite more people over, then we can’t keep shuttling everyone through The Leaky Pint. The poor bartender will be overwhelmed.”

The Leaky Pint, the only tavern in the town that surrounds Black Scale, serves as both a community hub and a makeshift transport stop. It’s the only building with a magic mirror since the security risks of placing one in the palace were far too great. Lilia’s point of overwhelming the poor bartender had some merit; if Malleus did intend to start inviting more people—or at the very least, one person many times—it would be good to think of alternative routes.

He doesn’t get an opportunity to consider any solutions, however, as the sight of a carriage rounding that very pass captures his attention. He straightens up suddenly—

—and then feels an undeniable sense of anxiety. It plunges to his core, rooting him on the spot and causing a cold sweat to touch his neck. He stares at the carriage as it draws closer, closer, closer. Suddenly he wishes to make some vague excuse again to lock himself in his chambers and only interact with you when surrounded by scores of other people. Not alone. Not like he intended.

“Malleus.” Lilia waves a hand in front of his face. His gaze follows it slowly straight back to Lilia’s scarlet eyes, which watch him with that familiar seriousness eons of experience can bring. When they meet gazes, Lilia’s expression softens to a small yet warm smile as that hand then ruffles Malleus’ hair.

“All will be well,” he hums, and the way that he says almost makes Malleus believe him.

_____________________________________________________

Malleus doesn’t actually get to see you until the evening, which may have been a good thing considering how long it took him to ease his nerves. This is yet another new feeling that you inspire in him—anxiety. He’s anxious if he looks good enough, anxious about how he is to approach this, anxious about what your response will be.

He spent a good portion of time preening in front of his mirror before leaving his chambers, and he isn’t afraid to admit it.

Yet when he finds you, it’s as though all of this build-up of fear and what if’s are wiped from his mind. You’ve been directed to the greenhouse which contains his portion of the rose garden. Years of plantings are blossoming in the warm summer night, filling it with a sweet scent that can lull one into a blissful peace. You’re sitting on a bench, one arm slung over the back and your head looking up at the sky. The glass is clear enough to see the numerous stars that spill across Briar Valley.

That’s one good thing about the lack of modern amenities within his homeland—the light of the celestial is not hidden by the light of man.

You seem lost in your own world, and for a moment he worries it might be intrusive of him to approach, until you finally notice his idling and a warm smile break across your face.

Gods. When the bards learn how your mere look can make the scion of the fae fold, they’ll have material for centuries.

“Well look who finally decided to say hello.” Your tone is teasing as he exhales and approaches, sitting down on the spot next to you—albeit a bit more gracefully. He can feel the heat of your arm near his back. “Lilia dragged Grim off to go fishing or something. Personally, I think nine at night is a weird time for that, but he was very insistent that the best time to catch the largest fish was right now.”

“Was he?” Malleus hums, utilizing this as a means to ease into the conversation he wants to have. “I would trust Lilia’s judgment on the matter. He has been in Briar Valley long enough to know the most ideal times for any activities.”

“I think Grim was just keen on getting more food. He wolfed down his dinner, and then my dinner, and then the dinner of a few others.” You grimace at the memory. “Reckon I might need to write a few apologies before we leave.”

“I’m sure all will be forgiven.” He’ll make sure all will be forgiven. Respectfully.

The two of you lapse into a moment of silence before you begin launching into how your trip to Briar Valley was, unprompted but certainly appreciated. Malleus listens intently as you regale him of your pilgrimage to the Mirror Chamber at Crowley’s behest (and not because Malleus sent a secondary letter expressing the urgency of your arrival—which meant no two day boat ride). You then detail the arrival to The Leaky Pint, the way you almost missed your carriage because the bartender roped you into helping him, and the several stops you made along the way to take photos—at the carriage drivers’ misery.

As you speak, Malleus finds himself relaxing to the sound of your voice. The way it changes with each emotion you put into your story, as well as the inflections and the quirks it carries. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling or that you’ve moved closer together until your tale ends with your breathless laughter over Grims behavior during your welcome feast.

“—truly he’ll get us arrested one day. I’d rather it be here, though. At least I know you’d bail me out.” You send him a smirk. “Although I also feel like you’d make me wait a while. Just to keep me on edge.”

“You think me so cruel?” Malleus chuckles softly as he watches you. “I would have you out in a heartbeat, were you to be kept in my cells.”

“How valiant. Be sure to be riding a white horse when you come sweeping to my rescue then, yes?” You laugh and lean back against the bench. Your arm is still draped around the back, still resting against him. Your warmth has crept through his body a bit too efficiently. He feels a burning in his cheeks as he turns his head away.

Another pause of silence falls then, broken by the sound of a distant fountain and an owl calling a mournful song from beyond. He hears you clear your throat as you shift and withdraw your arm.

The absence of your warmth is profound.

“I, um.” You seem to be turning many thoughts over in your mind as he looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “I know this happened a while back now, and maybe bringing this up isn’t the best idea, but the night that you and I were on Main Street together—”

Main Street. You were sitting together quite like you are now, facing each other. His mind had been in turmoil, and your gaze had been on his lips, and it had been too much—at that moment.

“I wanted to ap—”

He cuts you off mid-way through with a swiftly raised hand. The sound of your words catching in your throat and your eyebrow raising dubiously would normally fill him with amusement, but not tonight.

“There are a few things I need to say beforehand.”

Malleus once said to himself that loving you was for someone much bolder than he, but that had been a lifetime ago now. That had been when he was a recently broken boy lying on a hospital bed, trying to come back to himself after one of the most traumatic moments of his long life. That had been before his parent’s tomb, before the kobold, before he realized that to get what he wants he needs to be that bold.

He can be bold. He can be brave. He can say this.

“I was not ill that night, nor are you at fault for that. I was... I am afraid.” He confesses. Your mouth closes and now you wait for him to continue, which he soon does. “You are... gods. You do something to me. You inspire many feelings in me, and it is so overwhelming that my mind cannot wrap around them all.”

Oh, now he feels himself beginning to ramble a bit. This is very uncharacteristic of him. He faults you for this, again.

“I am afraid because I have never wanted something before. Then there you were sitting beside me when I was in that infirmary after everything that happened, and you were just talking about Grim and your day like you did just now, and I,”

He stops again. This is harder than he imagined it to be. He’s usually quite eloquent, and yet right now the words to describe what he wants to say seem to be running paces ahead of him. He shakes his head and looks out to the roses. For a moment, nothing happens, until he feels your warm hand on his arm again and it somehow spurs him to continue.

“You are... a disruptor. I had my entire life planned out before me since birth, and then you came crashing in like a comet, usurping all of that in one fell swoop—and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed your presence by my side during those evening walks, I enjoyed seeing you in Diasomnia, I enjoyed every moment you gave me. Yet that enjoyment was tainted by the fear that those moments would not last forever. You will likely die far before I do, and this thought just sits in my mind whenever we’re together. That this won’t be forever—this won’t last—and it scares me. It scares me.”

Malleus hears his voice break and for a moment he’s startled. His mind wars with his heart again—get control of yourself!—but a stinging in the back of his throat takes him off-guard and his hand flies up to cover his mouth as though in shame.

If it wasn’t intercepted by yours, that is.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask, your voice serious as he finally looks your way. You’re watching him with such focus and such warmth in your eyes that he wants to shrink back, return to his chambers, pretend this never occurred. He doesn’t. Instead, he speaks.

“... you.”

Not death. It had never been death to begin with. What he was afraid of was how much you had come to mean to him, because this was never supposed to happen. You were never supposed to come into his life. You were never supposed to impact him so much, make him want so much.

“Malleus.” Your voice is calm as you hold both of his wrists in your hands. “What do you want right now? What do you need me to do?”

You know he’s shaken which is why you’re letting him control the situation. Your kindness should be sickening, but instead it’s pulling him closer towards you, and in his fit of delirium he speaks.

“Let me know you. Make me remember every damn moment so when the inevitable does come, when Death enters our home, I have something to hold onto.” He rasps. There’s a flicker of fire in your eyes but he hardly lets it ignite before he’s surging forward and finishing what you started on Main Street.

Kissing, to his surprise, is not as the books write it to be. His lips collide with your own and your teeth hit as he kisses you hard, like a starved man before a meal. His eyes shut tight and he holds his breath until he feels you respond as your hand releases his wrist to rest on the back of his head instead. His body relaxes against your touch as you both move to find a proper rhythm.

No, kissing is not as the books write it to be, but this isn’t a terrible thing.

When you finally separate from him, he’s all but ready to move in again, only to have you move so that your lips are against the shell of his ear instead. He can’t help but shiver at the sensation as you speak. “Malleus, breathe for a second.”

Funny words coming from someone who sounds so breathless, but he obliges, resting his face against your shoulder as he does so.

“Listen carefully.” You begin as your fingers slowly thread through his hair. “I will not be going anywhere for a long time. Yes, I will not live as long as you, but I will live as long as I can for you. You wish to remember every moment, so I’ll give you enough memories that you’ll have a new one for each day you remain beyond me.”

Malleus takes in your words slowly. They sink into his mind and his body, and he can feel himself relaxing into your touch. A new memory for each day he outlives you. He can capture those memories, store them in a glass ball so that he may watch them whenever he pleases. You will never truly be gone if you can both make it work.

Semantics dictate that this will be a hard relationship anyway. He is a prince—and heir to a noble bloodline—and you are... well. You. But you are also you, and someone that he’ll go to hell and high water for. Come what may—he will end things with you by his side.

He says your name against your shoulder. Each syllable rolls off his tongue and fills the air like a melody as he withdraws just enough to see your face. You seem surprised—he has never really said your name before—as your hand comes up to wipe his cheek.

Look at him, breaking like a blubbering mess before you over a few reassurances and touches.

He says your name again, if only to see the warmth in your eyes before he moves in to test his theories about kissing once more.

Love is for the lonely.

Love is for fools.

Loving you is precisely how it’s meant to be.

[viiiiiiiiiin]

Okay so can I request zero overhearing that his crushes favorite color is green (bonus it if they describe a shade that’s close to his hair )

50 Shades of Green: Zoro x Reader

Includes: Roronoa Zoro , GN Reader

A / N: I assumed you meant Zoro lol. This is such a cute idea for a scenario ! I Hope you enjoy <3. I hope this is up to your standards !! Feel free to tell me in my AMA if you want me to redo this <33

It was a bright day , a day of relaxation. Everyone on the Sunny took this opportunity to take a break and enjoy themselves. Rather it be playing tag on the deck , listening to Brook play some beautiful tunes , or even just reading / tending to the garden. Everyone was being themselves and having fun. It was quite the break from the massive battles they've had recently.

You sat next to Nami , who was tending to her tangerines. Behind you , Robin sat reading her book. You and Nami had been chatting happily for what felt like hours. Robin , though she was reading , listened and observed everything to two of you were saying. She was ever observant , even if she was on break.

"Hey , I'll be back. I'm gonna go see if Sanji would mind making me something to drink." You said , excusing yourself from the 2 women. They nodded and waved to you as your form retreated from their vision.

As you jumped down to the kitchen , you noticed the two who normally fight . . . Well , fighting. The blonde haired cook seemed to be enraged about something while the moss headed swordsman just sarcastically commented back and basically brushed off the cook's complaints.

That swordsman. The very one that lacks a sense of direction in a literal and figurative sense. You felt your heart flutter as your eyes trailed to him. You shook your head and brushed pass them to get into the kitchen.

Though you didn't know it , Zoro's eyes followed you as the door shut behind your body. You walked over to the fridge and stared at all of your selections. As you sighed and closed the fridge , the door to the kitchen reopened. You glanced over to see who was coming in and noticed the cook. Sanji had apparently stopped arguing with Zoro and came to attend to your needs.

"What would you like , Reader ?" He asked with a smile on his face. Even if it was near dinner time , it was clear he didn't mind tending to his crewmates' needs. You smiled back at him and leaned against the counter.

"Are you able to make a drink for me ? I'm not sure exactly what I want yet. Or maybe a snack , if that's not too much to ask for." You trailed off as your mind trailed back to its thoughts.

"Of course. How about a vol - au - vent ?" He asked as he he began to take out the pastry from a sealed container. "I made some earlier for Nami and Robin , but they told me they weren't hungry." He shrugged and placed it on the counter for you.

"Thank you , Sanji." You bowed your head lightly and took one of the treats from the tray. You resealed the container and walked out of the kitchen.

Somewhere in the time that you had been inside , your ship had landed on an island. You looked at the gorgeous tree filled island in awe. It was lush with fresh vegetation and had many beautiful flowers. You've seen many different islands in the New World , but this had to be one of the nicer ones.

"Alright. I want Chopper , Usopp , and . . sadly . . . Luffy . . To go into town. Robin , I'd like you to go with them. We need you 4 to pick up some herbs for me and Chopper. Sanji , I want you and Brook to go stock up on food supplies. And Franky , you go get materials to repair the ship and for whatever else." Nami directed , pointing those people in the directions they were supposed to go. As she spoke , the groups filed out so they could get their job done as quickly as possible. It was hard to tell if it was because they wanted to go back to the sea or if they didn't wanna see Nami angry. Most likely the latter , you thought.

"What about me and Zoro ?" You questioned as you took a final bite of the tasty hollow treat Sanji had made. "I want you 2 to watch the ship. I'm going onto the island to chart it." She responded , picking up some paper and pens. Before either of you could say anything , she walked off of the ship.

You stood there , staring at the place the ginger once was. You blinked and turned your attention to Zoro , who seemed to be in the same boat as you. You wouldn't admit it , but you were happy to be alone with him.

You stood there , collecting your thoughts. While you stood like a statue , the Swordsman went off to work out. You shook your head violently and whipped your head around to find him. There he was , in all his muscular glory , at the end of the ship with a comically large weight in his hands. He had his coat discarded and he was thrusting the weight forwards and back onto his shoulder in a slicing like motion.

You couldn't help but stare. Everything about how he just so calmly lifted what you assumed to be over 400ibs surprised you. Instead of staring , you decided to go into the crows nest to keep a lookout for any enemies or your crewmates.

---

A few hours had passed by without either of you speaking to one another. The ship was in a comfortable silence , engulfing the both of you as you did separate things. You were bored sitting by yourself , if you were being honest. You were often fidgety and lost in thought instead of looking out. Of course , observation haki helped out with sensing living things but you didn't use it often.

Just as you were about to take a nap , you noticed a bag bobbing around the Sunny. You narrowed your eyes to see who it was and didn't see anyone. That was until you saw Luffy and Robin. You assumed it was either Chopper or Usopp. You smiled softly and walked down from your previous place.

You watched as the lump ran up to you. "Reader ! I got you something ! I thought it was your favorite color." The little reindeer doctor said excitedly as he ran up to you. He handed you a bag that was pink. Not your favorite color , but you liked his thought.

"I appreciate your gesture , Chopper. My favorite color isn't pink , though." You responded , putting the bag on your right side. You could definitely put your weapons and stuff in it. "Oh ! What's your favorite color then ?" He tilted his head with an adorable look on his face.

"Green , actually. I'd say a minty - moss green ? It's just really nice , in my opinion." You explained with a smile on your [shape] face. You heard a noise of surprise behind you and you turned. You didn't expect to have your [color] colored eyes meet with one brown one. Your face lit up.

"Greenisaprettycolorididntmeanitlikethat !" You sputtered out , hiding your face from his confusing stare. You couldn't tell if he was mad at you , if you were being honest.

"Green is a nice color , isn't it ?" Zoro mocked , laughing heartily. You were EXTREMELY embarrassed. Though , you didn't notice the red on his cheeks as well.

Chopper and Usopp laughed at your misery. They were even on the floor , about dying at that point. "I just didn't expect you to be into that color of green." He shrugged and smiled smugly at you. He turned and walked away from the 3 of you , cheeks reddening further.

Though you didn't know it , your words stuck in his head. It repeated like a broken record. He didn't understand why , but he liked the thought of it. Maybe his feelings for you grew , but he didn't know that. Maybe he should talk to Robin or Chopper about it. For now , he would sit and think about you. Even at night.

[cheynovak]

Echoes and Shadows - Part 3

Soldier Boy x F/Reader Y/N           

Warnings:  Fights, drugs, fluff, Ben giving racist comments... 

Side note: English isn’t my first language    

Words:  3150 

 

*Does not follow the boys storyline * 

--    

In the 1950, Soldier Boy had to train a train a young girl supe named Y/N, she had a "nice girl next door" persona. Soldier Boy hated it at first, until they started to work together, he seemed to start to like this kid.  

Years passed and Y/N didn’t seem to age a lot either. To her it seemed that Ben started to respect her. The two of them worked together just fine until his team Payback was assembled.  

His relationship with Crimson made her feel alone, and her bond with Noir made him jealous. It goes without saying her and Crimson Countess where never best friends.  

-- 

The Legend was hosting one of his infamous birthday parties, an extravagant affair filled with celebrities, strippers, and enough booze to drown an army. The air was thick with the smell of expensive cigars and perfume, the laughter and music creating a cacophony that filled the grand hall.  

At the bar, Ben stood with The Legend, a glass of bourbon in his hand. Strippers draped themselves around him, but his attention was elsewhere. His eyes kept drifting to the corner of the room where Y/N was laughing with Noir.  

Sitting closely. Every time she laughed, a flash of annoyance crossed Ben's face, his jaw clenching slightly. The Legend, ever the keen observer, noticed the subtle tension. He leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face.  

"You know, if you don't do something soon, I might just ask her to marry me." Ben waved him off, taking a swig of his drink. "She's like a sister to me, Legend. Besides, she'll never go for you, you've been what married two times already?"  

The Legend chuckled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I wouldn't tell a soul if you would fuck your so called 'sister'." Ben's expression darkened, his amusement evaporating.  

"Very funny, now drop it." The Legend raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just saying, if you keep ignoring her, someone else is going to swoop in. Maybe even Noir."  

Ben's eyes flicked back to Y/N and Noir, his grip tightening on his glass. He didn't respond, but the turmoil in his gaze was unmistakable. The Legend knew he'd hit a nerve, and he couldn't help but feel a bit satisfied. The Legend, always the life of the party, couldn't resist stirring the pot a bit more.  

He called out to Y/N, extending a hand with a charming smile. "Y/N, care for a dance honey?" Y/N laughed, accepting his hand. "Why not? Just don't step on my toes, will ya?" As they moved to the dance floor, The Legend placed his hands on her lower back, guiding her gently. They danced gracefully, Y/N enjoying the moment despite the underlying tension. 

She liked The Legend well enough, but she knew he was all charm and mischief, never to be taken too seriously. From the bar, Ben watched them closely, his jaw tightening with every spin and laugh. He couldn't tear his eyes away, even as he tried to convince himself that she was just a friend, no, more like a sister.  

Ben's gaze shifted to Noir, who was also watching Y/N and The Legend. Noir's expression was softer than usual, his dark eyes following Y/N with an intensity that made Ben's stomach churn. That soft smile on Noir's face, the way his eyes lingered on her body, there was no denying it. Noir liked her, maybe even more than that.  

"Fuck," Ben muttered under his breath, the realization hitting him hard. He did like her, Noir fucking wants her." Noir, seeing an opportunity, approached Y/N ."Can I take over?" He extended his hand, a silent invitation that Y/N accepted with a smile. As they glided across the dance floor, Noir leaned in, to whisper something in her ear.  

Whatever he said made Y/N laugh. At the bar, Ben watched the scene unfold, his emotions churning. He saw the way Noir's eyes never left Y/N, the way his hands rested lightly on her waist. Every detail grated on him, fuelling a fire he could barely contain. When Noir again whispered something in Y/N's ear, and she laughed again, Ben's patience snapped.  

His hand tightened around his glass, the pressure too much for the delicate object. With a loud crack, it shattered, shards of glass embedding into his palm. He hardly noticed it, his focus entirely on the dance floor.  

Ben stormed over, his anger a palpable force. He shoved his way through the crowd, his eyes locked on Noir and Y/N. Reaching them, he didn't bother with pleasantries. "I'm taking over." he growled, his tone making it clear it wasn't a request.  

Noir stepped back, his eyes narrowing but he didn't protest. Y/N, caught off guard by Ben's sudden aggression, glanced between the two men, her confusion evident. "Ben, what's going on?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern. 

Ignoring her question, Ben took her hand a little too forcefully, pulling her close. The dance they fell into was tense, their movements lacking the grace of her previous partners. Ben's grip on her waist was firm, almost possessive.  

Y/N tried to keep up, her mind racing. "Ben, you're hurting me," she whispered, her voice low so as not to draw attention. Ben's eyes softened slightly, his grip loosening but not letting go. "Sorry," he muttered, his voice gruff.  

Y/N looked up at him, seeing the raw emotion in his eyes. The tension between Y/N and Ben simmered as they continued their dance. Ben, still unable to fully articulate his feelings, let his jealousy get the better of him.  

"Are you interested in Noir?" he blurted out, his voice tinged with bitterness. Y/N blinked, surprised by the question. "Noir is just a friend, Ben. You know that." But Ben couldn't let it go. His insecurities and frustrations boiled over, and he spat out a racist comment that immediately soured the mood. "Yeah, well, you could do better than him anyway. He is just another black freak."  

Y/N's eyes widened in shock and anger. She pushed Ben away, her expression hardening. "Ben, that's enough! I can't believe you just said that." The party around them seemed to fade into the background as they stood there, the space between them feeling ice cold. 

Y/N’s disappointment and anger were palpable, her eyes glaring at Ben with a fierceness he hadn’t seen before. "You're better than this, Ben," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Or at least, I thought you were." Ben’s jaw clenched, but he remained silent.  

Y/N shook her head, turning away from him. "I need some air," she muttered, walking swiftly toward the exit.  

-- 

Butcher, Hughie, MM, and Y/N standing before the luxurious loft of The Legend. The ornate door loomed before them, its polished surface reflecting the tension on their faces. Butcher knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing The Legend himself, dressed in a gaudy robe and holding a glass of something expensive.  

His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his unexpected visitors. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he exclaimed, a broad grin spreading across his face. "If it isn't my favourite hero, Y/N, honey, it's been too long!" He pulled Y/N into a hug, holding her tight for a moment before stepping back.  

"When are you finally going to marry me, darling?" Y/N laughed, the tension easing slightly. "Oh, you know, Legend, I’m still waiting for you to give up those strippers and settle down." The Legend chuckled heartily. "Fair enough, fair enough."  

They stepped into the lavish loft, the opulence almost overwhelming. The Legend’s loft was a museum of memorabilia, old movie posters, and countless awards. It was a stark contrast to the grim realities they had been facing.  

"Alright, lads and lass," The Legend said, sinking into a high-backed armchair with a sigh. "What brings you to my humble abode?" Butcher leaned forward, his eyes steely with determination.  

"We've got a big problem, Legend. Soldier Boy's back, and we need to know if you've seen him or heard anything about his whereabouts." The Legend’s eyebrows shot up, his expression a mix of surprise and concern.  

"Soldier Boy? I thought he was dead." Hughie interjected, his voice tense. "He's back, and he's causing a lot of damage. We need any information you can give us." The Legend leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  

Y/N's keen eyes caught sight of something suspicious. On a side table, partially hidden by a stack of magazines, she noticed a second mirror dusted with white powder. Her curiosity piqued, she walked over and picked up the mirror, examining the residue.  

"Legend, are you sure you haven't seen Soldier Boy?" Y/N asked, holding the mirror up for him to see. "Because if you haven't, then who is this coke for?" The Legend hesitated, his confident demeanour faltering for a moment. He looked at the mirror, then at Y/N, a flicker of fear crossing his face.  

The Legend sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, alright. He was here. Came in like a storm, scared the shit out of me. He was looking for his suit and the address of his ex-girlfriend, Crimson Countess."  

"Why didn't you tell us this sooner?" Butcher demanded, his voice a low growl. The Legend shrugged helplessly. "I didn't want to get involved. Soldier Boy is dangerous, and I figured the less I knew, the better."  

Hughie looked around, anxiety clear on his face. "So he has his suit now? And he's looking for Crimson Countess?" "Yeah," The Legend confirmed, his voice trembling slightly. "He was pretty insistent. Took the suit and the address and left. That’s all I know, I swear."  

Y/N made her way to the door, her mind racing with a sense of urgency. Butcher's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Where do you think you're going, Y/N?" he asked, his tone sharp with suspicion. Y/N turned to face them, her expression unreadable.  

"I'm going to Crimson Countess's, alone." 

-- 

Her 40th birthday in 1972.  

Ben had knocked on her door, to drop off an invitation to Herogasm, But Y/N had declined, “ Me sex with strangers, ha, nice try Ben.” wanting nothing to do with that fuck up orgy, preferring the solace of her own company to the debauchery of the party scene.  

“It doesn’t have to be with a stranger.” he said flirty while walking into her apartment. “Still no thanks, it’s my birthday remember.” Ben saw her comfy, fluffy, everything except sexy pj’s.  

“Wait you’re not going out to celebrate?” She shook her head, he saw how she tried to put on a smile, but he knew her better. She was alone on her birthday and not because she wanted.  

“Noir was supposed to come over for a movie night, but eh, he had a last-minute mission...so.” Ben hesitated, feeling guilty he forgot her birthday, they had been working together for over 20 years.  

And yet she asked Noir celebrate her birthday. He was in doubt between: showing his face at his own annual party and his desire to spend time with her. “Hey, i-if you want, I can... take over.”  

Y/N looked confused, “What?” Ben shrugged his shoulders “A movie night sounds fun.” Y/N laughed “Really, you’d chose a movie night over herogasm?” 

“Yeah! Herogasm is every year.” He saw her smile “So is my birthday.” He held her chin between his fingers. “Not your 40th year sweetheart.” and kissed her cheeks seeing how she blushed. ”Happy birthday.” 

They had stayed in, watched a movie while staying in bed as they drank and laughed and shared stories until the early hours of the morning. As the night wore on, they had found themselves wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of the world fading away as they surrendered to the comfort of each other's presence.  

When Y/N had woken up the next morning, Ben was gone but she was greeted by the comforting scent of Ben lingering in her bed. She figured he couldn't stay away from his own party.

-- 

Y/N saw Ben standing in front of Countess her burned up trailer. The weight of their shared history pressing down on her shoulders like a heavy burden.  

In that night many years ago, when they had shared a quiet night together, she had felt something stir within her, a longing she had never dared to acknowledge and so he never knew. 

Ben broke the silence, his voice filled with a raw honesty that cut through the night air like a knife. "I held onto the hope that you would come and save me," he confessed, his words hanging between them like a fragile thread.  

She took a step closer, standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

Y/N felt her heart lurch in her chest, the weight of his words crashing over her like a tidal wave. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to find the right words to say. "I... I had no idea you were alive," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. 

Tears streamed down her cheeks, he reached out to her, his hand trembling as it brushed against her cheek. "If I had known..." She sobs. 

Be nods “You were the only one who fought for me sweetheart", his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and longing. Y/N felt a lump form in her throat as she took in his words. Despite the passage of time and the trials they had faced, Ben still saw her as the one who had stood by him when no one else had.  

It was a testament to the strength of their bond, a bond that had endured through years of separation and uncertainty. "I..." Y/N hesitated, her words catching in her throat as she struggled to find the right way to express herself.  

"I don't remember much since our last mission. Just some fragments of our past. Sometimes it comes back to me in bits and pieces, triggered by familiar places, pictures or... scents." 

Her voice trailed off as she looked at Ben, her heart heavy with the weight of her confession. She wished she could remember more, wished she could piece together the fragments of their shared history and make sense of the tangled web of emotions that still lingered between them.  

Ben's touch felt warm and reassuring against her cheek. "It's okay, sweetheart," he said softly. "We'll figure it out." 

Y/N offered Ben a place to stay, he couldn't help but notice the difference in her. Gone was the eternal positivity and upbeat schoolgirl attitude he remembered from their past. In its place was a sense of gravity, a weightiness that hinted at the struggles she had faced in the intervening years.  

He couldn't help but wonder if her memory loss had played a role in this change. Had she lost more than just her memories? Had she lost a part of herself along the way? Placing a tentative hand on her lower back, Ben wanted to whisper his gratitude for her kindness.  

But before he could speak, Y/N froze beneath his touch, pulling away with a suddenness that caught him off guard. "Um... I can show you to your room," she said awkwardly, her voice tinged with unease.  

Ben nodded, his own discomfort mirroring hers as they made their way through the quiet house. With each step, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were tiptoeing around something unsaid, something that lingered between them like a ghost from their past.  

As they reached the guest room, Ben turned to Y/N, his gaze searching hers for some semblance of understanding. But all he found was a guardedness that left him feeling more alone than ever.  

"Thanks," he said softly, his words hanging in the air like a question left unanswered. Y/N nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Anytime," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper before closing the door.  

The next morning 

As Butcher stood on Y/N's doorstep the next day, a proposition burning on the tip of his tongue, he couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency in his chest. He needed Soldier Boy's help, and he needed it now.  

"Morning, love," Butcher greeted Y/N, his voice rough with determination. "Got a proposition for Soldier Boy." Y/N arched an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she regarded him. "And what might that be?"  

Butcher's gaze hardened, his jaw set with resolve, as he looked at Ben eating breakfast, the white powder still on his nose. "We help you track down the rest of your team," he said, his voice low and urgent, "but in return, you help us take down Homelander."  

Ben listened carefully, his expression unreadable as he processed Butcher's offer. He had seen the pictures, heard the stories, but Homelander was still a mystery to him. Who was this man that Butcher was so eager to bring down?  

"I've seen pictures," Ben admitted, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Who is he?" Butcher's jaw tightened, his gaze hardening with determination. "He's the new you," he replied bluntly. Ben's response was resolute, his tone firm as he met Butcher's gaze head-on. "No one is the new me, pal."  

Ben's jaw tightened with determination. "You'll have it, but first Payback." He said while looking at Y/N who couldn't take the conversation anymore and fled to the bathroom. 

As Y/N stood in front of the mirror, preparing for the day ahead, Ben couldn't help but notice the fear in her eyes. Quietly, he approached her, his footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor.  

Standing behind her, he met her gaze in the reflection of the mirror. For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between them. Ben could sense Y/N's apprehension, her uncertainty about the future and the challenges that lay ahead.  

Without a word, he reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. Y/N tensed beneath his touch, her breath catching in her throat as she turned to face him.  

"Why are you so... different?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Ben's brow furrowed in confusion, his expression betraying a mixture of concern and uncertainty. “You’re so sweet.” she added. He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words to say.  

Then, a realization seemed to dawn on him, and he met her gaze with a solemn intensity. "You really don't remember anything, do you?" he said softly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with regret.  

"What do I need to know?" Ben's hand still resting on her shoulders. "Nothing, forget about it." and with those words his posture changed to the hard and tough man she remembered and left her standing alone. 

Wondering what he remembered that she didn't.

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