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purinjoong · 8 months ago

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take off your halo and wings (j.yh)

summary: yunho can't keep his hands off his angel, especially when he stumbles on one of your less than angelic desires.

jeong yunho x reader :: established relationship, smut, fluff, pervert!yunho, soft and slight mean dom yunho, fem bodied reader (gender not specified)

warnings below the cut!

praise, dacryphilia, marking, slight size kink, fingering, unprotected sex (!!!), dirty talk, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, love, puppy)

notes: sadly not proofread im too impatient .. </3 approx 4.9k words!

Yunho swears he would never do anything you’re not ready for, and he doesn’t have any ulterior motives as he snuggles deeper into your embrace on the couch, the colors dancing on the TV flickering across your face. He likes this show, he really does— he was the one who asked to watch it with you— but with the way your head is nuzzled just under his chin and your body is pressed comfortably against his, he has front-row tickets to the tantalizing scent of your hair products and the dizzying warmth of your skin under his palms and against his thighs.

Every breath he takes thrusts him further into his thoughts, heart thumping against his chest so hard he’s afraid it’ll start jostling you with its movement if it beats any faster. He’s overwhelmed by the need to smooth his palms against the sweet curve of your hips, to kiss you until you’re gasping for air, your clenched fists cutely twisting at the fabric of his loose shirt as he drops his head to your neck, nipping at the soft skin.

He’s staring blankly ahead, lost in thoughts of you when you let out a cute squeak at something happening in the show. At the noise, his gaze flits down to where your bodies are tangled together, breath hitching as you shuffle around in his hold to get more comfortable. Your thighs are sandwiching one of his arms now, and he’s genuinely holding his breath trying not to whimper from how desperately he needs to have his mouth between your thighs instead, your fingers weaved into his hair as he licks and sucks at you.

You seem to have noticed something is off, since you tear your eyes away from the screen to fix him with an angelic look of concern, pretty eyes wide and sparkly as you ask him if he’s feeling alright. Fuck, he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, but he responds with a mumbled noise of confusion because he genuinely can’t focus on anything other than the way your lips curve around every vowel you utter and how badly he needs your lips moving against his own.

Your arm (the one that isn’t wrapped around his back) comes up to brush some of his hair out of his face, and it’s just a soft, gentle touch, but he can’t stop the shuddered breath that escapes his chest. He’s so thankful the back of your hand covers the sinful way his eyes threaten to roll back into his head from the mere brush of your fingers against his forehead.

“You’re warm, baby,” you say worriedly, flipping the hand resting against his forehead so that your palm is pressed against it instead.

“‘M fine,” he replies, inwardly pumping his fist at how normal he sounds in spite of the desire thrumming through his veins. “Let’s keep watching,”

You give him a look, eyebrows cutely knitting together in disapproval, but you bring your hand away from his forehead and go back to resting your cheek against his chest to comfortably face the TV.

The measured rise and fall of your body as it lays against his lulls him further into his daze. He tries to tug his arm away from the back of the couch so he can stroke your hair, but his limbs move like he’s trying to swim through a pool of syrup.

It doesn’t help that he’s so acutely aware of how close his other arm is to your core— the bare skin of your thighs are so soft and warm where they’re sandwiched around his forearm, and if you shift any closer he’ll literally be pressed right against the seat of your cute pajama shorts, applying sweet pressure that he knows would have you struggling to stifle a moan.

He feels like a pervert, he is a pervert, with the way he cartoonishly gulps at the slightest movement of the neckline of the shirt you’re borrowing from him. With the way it’s driving him insane right now, he can’t decide whether he wants you wearing it forever or if he should put all his clothes into a suitcase and throw it out into the ocean before he short circuits from how much he loves you and how seeing you in his clothes stokes the flames of the possessive little fire blazing in his heart, burning bright for you. It makes him want to growl mine, into every part of your body he can get his hands on, pressing a soft kiss and a sharp bite anywhere you’ll let him until you’re a collage of marks proving his adoration for you.

Yunho’s fingers have been absentmindedly stroking your hair for a while now, and as his thoughts grow more possessive, his strokes have turned into delicious little tugs that feel just right, leading you to bite at your bottom lip and tense your thighs to prevent them from closing tighter around his arm. A particularly insistent tug at your hair from his long fingers draws a pathetic whine from your throat, a needy and wanton plea that causes both of you to freeze.

You shut your eyes tightly, bashful— you’re just cuddling, for fuck’s sake, but as you’re smoldering with embarrassment, Yunho is fighting the urge to flip you onto your back and kiss the shit out of you. To draw more pretty sounds out of his favorite person until you’re begging him to stop, it’s too much, you can’t take it, but you both know you can and you love that he’ll make you take it.

He opts for being more casual, so as not to scare you with the overwhelming wave of affection that washes over him from his forehead— where your hand was resting earlier— down to the tips of his toes, and tugs at your hair again. He manages to draw another sound out of you, a muffled little whimper (because you’ve doubled down on the force you’re biting your lip with), but it sends his heart reeling nonetheless.

“What’s this, baby?” he breathes against your ear, and you shudder at his close proximity.

“Nothing,” is your petulant response, and you both know it’s a lie with how your thighs shift around his arm.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” Yunho says with a soft chuckle, the slight rasp to his voice shooting a bolt of arousal straight to your core. “It sounds like my angel has a dirty little secret to spill,”

You open your mouth to protest, but he chooses that moment to apply just the right amount of pressure with his nails against your scalp and pulls. With your lips now accessible, a debauched moan floats free from your chest, and it's Yunho’s turn to feel a jolt of arousal shock his body. He wants nothing more than to take you, play you like a delicate instrument that sings a sweet melody just for him, but he sets his feelings aside because he decides he wants to hear you beg first.

Everything about you is cute, and Yunho can go on for hours given the chance, but there’s something so delectable about seeing you soft and flustered in his arms, everything from your supple cheeks to your shy gaze just begging him to keep teasing you until you melt into his embrace like a marshmallow over an open flame.

You won’t meet his eyes, not after the tempting way you keened into the pull of his fingers, and it drives him crazy. You’re embarrassed, but you don’t even have a clue how worked up everything you do makes him. It’s delightful, and it’s infuriating, but more than anything, it conjures that perverted, possessive beast in him that belongs to you, just like the rest of him.

“Why are you so shy, baby?” he whispers. “Tell me how to make you feel good, and it’s yours,” Your gaze flickers to his bow-shaped lips, but it’s still shy, measured, like you’re afraid another whine will pierce the air if you let up on how harshly you’re biting your lip.

There’s something so lewd about the way he unabashedly growls dirty words into your ears when you fuck, with his soft cheeks, sparkly eyes, and cute lips. It’s worse when his fluffy hair is half-covering his eyes, because he looks so cozy as he’s pounding into you so perfectly you can’t even form a train of thought. At the same time, whenever his pretty fingers roughly push his hair away from his face so he can fix you with a dark, predatory look as he hits that spot inside of you, you unravel for him without fail.

There’s a method to the madness that is Yunho piecing you apart and molding you back together just to ruin you again. When you don’t respond, bashful gaze still trained on his lips, he coos. “All you have to do is tell me, baby, I’ll give it to you so good,” he coaxes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try, but the way your voice trembles gives you away, and his lip curls up in triumph.

He hums in response, cocky smirk still quirking his lip as he toys with a lock of your hair. “No?” he asks. “So if I took off these flimsy shorts of yours, you wouldn’t be dripping through your panties?”

Suddenly, you’re aware of the way your thighs have been clenching around his forearm, and how you’re trapped between his sturdy chest and the plush cushions of the couch.

“Yunho,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” At your lack of a response, he coos, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the side of your lips but not quite on the plush flesh that’s practically tingling with the desire to be engulfed by Yunho’s.

“I need it,” you breathe. “Need you,” And as badly as he wants to ravage your body with kisses until you’re moaning his name into his mouth, he’s transfixed by the image of your eyes welling with desperate tears, lips swollen from how you bite at them when you try to restrain your sounds and pleas for him to just give himself to you and to stop teasing already. Weak as he is to his desires of your flesh, he settles for pressing a sweet kiss to your collarbone and revels in the way your eyes flutter shut.

“To do what, my love?” His voice is muffled by your skin as he litters it with more kisses.

“Stop teasing me, please,” you whine pitifully, and you would have the strength to be embarrassed if it wasn’t for Yunho’s responding deep chuckle. His long fingers brush against your core, applying insistent, sweet pressure for a moment where its soaked the flimsy fabric of your shorts. He brings the glistening digits up to his mouth, pausing to admire the way your arousal clings to his fingers as he separates them. “Yunho,” you whisper, pleading with him to do something, anything to soothe the ache between your thighs.

He sucks his fingers— coated in your desire— into his mouth, answering your desperate plea with a cocky smirk and a teasing hum around the fingers in his mouth. When your eyes well with tears, he takes pity on you, cooing and swiping at your cheeks with his clean hand. It’s his turn to be embarrassed from how hard your teary, pouting face makes him; he can’t bring himself to tease his angel any further when the only thing he can think about is having you cry on his cock. Yunho brings a thumb to your lips, parting them and kissing you so fervently it feels like he’s pulling the breath out of your lungs.

You’re so lost in his lips that the gentle yet firm brush of Yunho’s knuckles against the seat of your shorts sends a delicious jolt of arousal up your spine, a cute squeak slipping out of your mouth and into his. You feel the way his lips quirk in amusement, a silent pledge to draw as many lewd noises from you as he can before the night is over. The circles he rubs against your clothed clit are anything but soothing, forcing you to break away from Yunho’s intoxicating kisses to catch your breath, face pressed against his chest while your hips buck against his hand.

“More, please,” you beg, hand sliding under his shirt to run your fingers along his soft skin.

“Yeah?” he chuckles, but how can he deny his angel, especially when asked so sweetly? He finally makes direct contact with your drooling cunt, long fingers teasing your folds until one is eagerly sucked in by your walls.

“So good,” you babble into his shirt, and the laugh that rips from his chest is mean, but so, so sexy.

“Just like that, huh, baby?” he coos. When your answer is nothing but a pathetic whine of his name, he chuckles again, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know, sweetheart, I’ll give it to you just how you like it,”

“Need you to fuck me, Yunho,” you gasp, fists clenching uselessly around his shirt while he scissors his fingers in you. You know he’s trying to stretch you out, make it easier for you to take him, but you don’t care at this point. Every moment without his warmth filling you up and fucking you full is driving you crazy. The sharp glint of his smirk at your words has your walls clenching frantically around his fingers, drawing a guttural groan from Yunho’s throat that he throws his head back for.

You can’t even bite back the pitiful whine the sight pulls out of you— you want to bite his neck, to bury your face in him and drown in his ocean, never coming back up for air if it means you can be surrounded by him, engulfed by him. “Please Yun, I can’t take it,” you whimper, voice catching when his fingers press against that spongy spot inside of you that draws a litany of sounds and broken cries of his name as he takes advantage of it.

“But you’re soaking my hand, love,” he teases, a cruel smirk taking over his features as your fingers scrabble to grab a hold of his wrist. His ministrations have your limbs tingling, grip weak as you try to halt his pleasing assault on your pussy. “So wet, just for me, hm?”

“Yours,” you nod frantically, nails lightly scratching at his forearm as you moan at the stimulation. “Put it in, Yunho, please?” you break, too far gone, too lost in the pleasure he pushes on you to care about the indecency and lewdness of your words, not when he’s staring you down like this. Not with his fingers mercilessly teasing your g-spot, sadistically cooing at the staccato whimpers that escape your mouth despite how hard you’re trying to stay quiet.

“I can’t hear you honey, what was that?” he chuckles, voice dropping a little deeper at the frustrated moan you let out at his tormenting.

“Yunho,” you huff, indignant, but it comes out as a breathy purr when he crooks his fingers against that spot just right. His sharp, cocky grin tells you it was no accident— he plays your body like an instrument, toying with you to draw out those pretty sounds you make just for him.

“You’re clinging onto my fingers so tightly, baby, I need a little motivation to get them out to put my cock in you,” he says, voice dripping with faux sadness as though he isn’t enjoying every second of your helplessness beneath him.

“You’re the wo-rst, Yunnie,” you scowl, face warming with embarrassment at the eroticism of your voice. Even you can’t take yourself seriously with the obscene moans punctuating your every word.

“Awww, you want Yunnie that bad, baby?” he mocks. “It’s too bad you won’t beg for it,”

Your trembling fingers curl tighter around his wrist to no avail, his assault on your g-spot so pleasurably mind-numbing that you stumble over your words as you try to beg for his cock, unintelligible cries of his name slipping past your lips. “Please, Yun, need you so badly, need you to fuck me so bad,” you finally manage, head thrown back to escape his piercing stare and perverse smile. “I’ll do anything, I’ll be so good, please just give it to me,”

“There’s my angel,” he groans. Your pleading eyes brimming with unshed tears makes him want to hold you against the plush cushions of the couch and draw orgasm after orgasm from you until those tears are spilling down your cheeks, pleasure-addled brain unable to focus on anything but whining his name and pawing at his shirt the way you so endearingly do when he fucks you dumb. But since you asked so sweetly, so good for him as always, Yunho pulls his fingers out (with a firm rub against your g-spot and your pliant walls on the way out for good measure) and presses a reverent kiss to your clit before shucking down pants.

You’re practically salivating, hands wringing the hem of his shirt in anticipation after so cruelly being denied his cock for so long. ”So eager, love,” Yunho chuckles, the weight of dick resting deliciously against your pussy.

“It’s not my fault you’re such a tease,” you snark. “You could have been inside me ages ago, you sadist,”

“Yeah?” is his only response, but his tone is so dangerous— airy, but threatening, with some hidden promise beneath it that you’re morbidly curious to discover.

“Yeah,” you answer, but it comes out softly and timidly at the shift in his demeanor. The smirk on his face that disappeared at your brattiness returns, a more sinful glint in his eye as he takes in just how pliant you are for him.

“So cute, puppy,” he grins. “Fuck around and find out, huh?” And find out you do as he slides in, the glide laughably easy from how wet you’ve gotten from his teasing.

“Yunho,” you whimper, a silent plea in your wide eyes to go faster, to stop tormenting you and to just give you all of him until there’s nothing left.

“You’re soaking, angel,” he observes, blatantly ignoring your unspoken request. Instead, his thumbs find your folds, gently spreading them apart to expose your throbbing clit. You’re almost embarrassed at how closely he’s inspecting you, but you’re too overwhelmed by the hunger in his eyes as he bites his lip at your arousal. He brings a thumb against your clit, applying delicious pressure that has your body jerking against his, sheathing his cock snugly within your walls. He laughs at the cute yelp you make when his pelvis finally connects with yours, pressing a little harder against your clit to hear you squeal and watch you shut your eyes tightly to escape the pleasure.

He devours you in every sense— drinking in the sight of your trembling form trapped beneath him, savoring the erotic mewls and desperate moans you make for him as he feasts on the feeling of your hot skin beneath his fingers and trapping his cock. He has to fight the urge to gather you up in his arms and press you against him, chest to chest, face preferably buried in your neck or hair or lips smothering yours so he can be close to you in every sense of the word, but you look too lovely splayed against the couch cushions for him to manhandle you any further.

“Feel good?” he asks softly, bringing his free hand up to your face to fondly brush away the hair obstructing his view of his angel. He’s checking in on you, making sure he isn’t being too rough, making sure you can still feel all the love behind his teasing.

“So good, Yuyu,” you pant. “Please move, please fuck me,” As always, your wish is his command, so he complies, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back in. Your moan is so obscene its practically pornographic, and coupled with the tight warmth of your walls sucking him in, Yunho has to throw his head back with a guttural groan to keep himself sane. You’re so fucking cute, calling him Yuyu with his cock buried within you, your pretty, teary eyes blinking up at him so sincerely as you ask him to fuck you.

He’ll be damned if he doesn’t give his angel the world on a silver platter, so if it’s a good fuck you want it’s a good fuck you’ll get. With every thrust, you let out a breathy moan or a lascivious “please.” If he angles himself just right, you punch out a sweet keen of that nickname that he would find gut-wrenchingly cute under any other circumstances— but with your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, brows drawn up and arms splayed limply above your head as you’re left helpless to the pleasure he fucks into you, Yunho would have to be some kind of deity not to lose his mind. For how pliant and weak he makes you, you return it twofold, leaving him powerless before your charm.

You bring an arm down to your stomach, hand finding one of his to intertwine your fingers as he fucks you deep and calculated, thrusts perfectly orchestrated to have you falling apart on his cock. “Feels so good, Yuyu, I love you so much,” you whimper as your fingers slot into the gaps between his, and Yunho has to grip your hip with all the strength he has to stop himself from filling you up with his cum then and there.

“I love you too, angel,” he praises, fighting to keep his voice level. “Always so fucking good for me,”

Your moans begin to rise in pitch, broken little gasps and desperate whimpers of “Yuyu, just like that, please don’t stop,” that come to a peak as your back arches into a pretty crescent, hips bucking madly against his as you fall apart on his cock, cumming with a satisfied sob of his name.

Yunho has many hobbies, some more productive than others, but his absolute favorite is watching you cum, treasuring the pretty expressions you make only for him and the debauched sounds he can pull out of you. It was good, he can tell from the way you’re panting and blinking slowly like you’re still coming down, but he doesn’t let up because you aren’t crying yet and he promised he would have you falling apart on him so good that you wouldn’t be able to think of anything else.

You’re so cute, eyes widening in surprise as he fucks you through your orgasm. Yunho isn’t sure if he wants to show the whole world how his angel is the loveliest there could ever be, or if he wants to keep you all to himself, so sweet, all fucked out and pliant for him.

That possessive beast you conjured in him always seems to win, though, and he shifts so he’s looming over you even more dangerously now, broad shoulders filling your view with nothing but Yunho, Yunho, Yunho. You’d never have it any other way though, mewling at the overstimulation, squirming beneath him and tugging uselessly at his shirt as he fucks you relentlessly.

“Can you t-take this off, at least?” you whimper, and he heeds your request with a breathy chuckle, his pace inside you never faltering as he tears his hands away from your hips to pull his shirt off. He feels your walls flutter desperately around his cock at his exposed torso, pulling a more throaty laugh from his chest.

“What a pervert,” he teases, licking his unfairly pretty bow-shaped lips as his palms find your hips once more.

“Y-You’re such a hypocrite,” you punch out between soft little whines, an indignant squeak preceding your words.

“Mmm, never said I wasn’t a pervert, my love,” Yunho grins, pinching your hip and grinning wider at the way you squirm. “I’m a proud pervert when it comes to you, but you’re just as bad, aren’t you, angel?”

You want to retort, cheeks warm with humiliation, but you can’t form the words or the thought when Yunho’s penetrating you so perfectly. You’re only able to manage a feeble moan, which draws another mean-spirited laugh from Yunho and the rewarding pressure of his thumb against your clit once more. He finally stops teasing you with his words only for his mouth to latch onto one of your nipples, the hand that’s not busy at your clit making its way up to your other nipple to toy with it until you’re jerking against his body, helpless to his desires as his chest secures you against the cushions.

Yunho has the gall to laugh against your skin when he bites the pillowy flesh around your nipple, resulting in a cute yelp from you that has him hardening impossibly further within you. The assault on all your sweet spots has you clenching uselessly around him, walls hugging him so tight he can’t tell if you’re trying to push him out or suck him in deeper, if that was even possible. Your thighs are twitching uncontrollably around his hips, fingers scrabbling against his back, seeking purchase in the soft skin and hard muscles contracting under your fingertips from how powerfully he’s thrusting into you.

You’re almost there, he can tell from the litany of pitiful whines and maddeningly sexy pleas of his name spilling from your lips, but he needs to give you just a little more to have you coming undone for him the way he wants, to give you pleasure so good it leaves you floating for the rest of the evening; so he painstakingly pulls his hand away from your (now swollen from his attention) nipple to press his palm flat against your stomach, applying just the right amount of force to have you gasping and digging your nails into his skin. It hurts so good, his eyes roll back into his head, but he has to keep himself under control at least until he draws that orgasm from you that he knows you’re craving.

Your eyes find his, and those unshed tears that have been driving him crazy finally fall past your lashes, spilling down your cheeks as you moan his name. You’re so perfect, in every sense of the word, squirting all over his cock as he fills you up. “That’s it, my love,” he praises you, voice deep and strained as he cums for you, “So good for me,”

“I love you, Yuyu,” you mumble as he pulls out, slowly and cautiously because he knows you’re probably sensitive from all his teasing from earlier. The painstakingly slow drag of his cock against your walls has you twitching against his hips, though— you can feel every ridge and every vein this way and you’re starting to think that Yunho probably had a point when he called you a pervert earlier. If you are a pervert, it’s only for him.

“I love you too, angel,” he says sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your thighs twitch as he soothingly cleans them with a warm, damp towel, carefully brushing your hair away from your face and rubbing comforting circles into your hip with his free hand. “It was okay, baby?” he asks, movements faltering slightly as he looks up at you from between your thighs with those sparkling puppy-like eyes that got you into this predicament in the first place.

“It was perfect, Yun,” you say sincerely. “You felt so good that I couldn’t really… control myself,” you mumble, trailing off out of embarrassment. You have to avert your eyes for your own sanity when that puppy face splits into a teasing grin, his canines back on display.

“Hmm, I can tell,” he chuckles, leaning up towards your face to warmly kiss away the few tears still adorning your cheeks.

“Yunho,” you whine, indignant. “You asked me just to tease,”

“Nooooo, baby,” he laughs. “It’s not my fault you’re so cute when you get like this,”

You can’t really retort, not when he’s giggling like that, what with his pretty smile and soft cheeks.

“If my angel has any other dirty little secrets to share, I think we could have a lot of fun with it, don’t you?” he lilts, taunting you by sliding his long fingers through your hair to rest firmly at your scalp. Not tugging, not yet, but the possibility lingers, kicking up your heartbeat again.

“You’re the one hiding all these kinky secrets,” you counter, pouting. “I know you took that pair of lacy panties I asked you about the other week, you pervert, so who’s the real false angel?”

Yunho just laughs, again, a throaty chuckle rumbling in his chest that would have your thighs clenching to alleviate the jolt of arousal shocking your core if he wasn’t settled between your legs. “You have a point, love,” he acquiesces, and shoots you a wink that already has you needy for him to draw yet another orgasm from you. You’ll save this information for next time, though— you have a lifetime to explore Yunho and a lifetime to fall deeper in love with every new inch he reveals.

#yunho smut #ateez smut

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queercoshon · 11 days ago

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Thanks to a comment on my post, I think I'll release the parts as I write them on Tumblr, but post it all at once on deviantart once I'm done. Here's the first candle of advent;P

Pity Party

Holiday season. Christmas, once again, and once again, you were alone.

Every year before you had worked retail, so you couldn't take time to fly back to your family. This year you had a real desk job that had 2 weeks break over the holidays! When you called your mom to coordinate Christmas, she informed you they assumed you couldn't make it, and booked a sold out (and let's be real, too expensive for you) cruise that was non-refundable. But you'll do something with them next year, okay?

That sucked, but at least you had your partner. Until two days ago. They had decided you were getting too fat, even though you had met on Feabie. You know, to get fat. They actively worked to make you this fat. You had noticed they started pulling away after you said you couldn't shop for clothes in normal retail stores anymore, they just didn't have your sizes. That fucker only wanted your fat body for sexual pleasure, but was ashamed to be seen with you.

You lost 190lbs of dead weight that day, but felt a different kind of heaviness on your chest.

So, completely alone, and with office job money to spend, you decided to let loose for the few days over Christmas. You had enough weed and booze for a college house party, and a list of all restaurants that were delivering on Christmas. You also stocked the freezer with easy meals like pizza and lasagne, and horded snacks for when you just got peckish.

Eve of Christmas Eve

You dropped the last of your snacks within arms' reach in the living room and checked the wait time on your delivery. 20 minutes. You crack open a beer and drink deeply, carbonation fizzling in your gut. The malty taste starts to trigger something in you, and after a quick pause to burp, you quickly chug down the rest. The feeling of beer bloating up your big empty stomach before a night of binging always got you going. And this was going to be more than just a night of binging.

Your joint rolling has gotten better, but the condensation from the second beer can on your fingers makes it harder. Finally the edge is sealed and you can light up. Your personal blend of death star and girl scout cookies has an herbal but sweet tinge to it, and it fills your lungs and quickly clouds your brain. The second beer certainly helps with that.

Your food arrives, and you're feeling good. So what it takes you extra effort to haul your ass off the couch to get to the door? So what you haven't been able to do up your pants at all for the past week? So what if you had gotten too fat for your feeder, someone who said they got off to this? You would get off to this, but that would be a long time from now.

Tonight is an order from a pizza place. There's an extra large pizza, a full order of loaded cheesy bread, a double order of cauliflower bites, and it looks like they sent two lava cakes even though you only ordered one.

After getting settled back on your worn couch, you choose your mindless tv. Now the high is taking over, and you just want the comfort of a dumb Christmas movie. You quickly choose and then turn to your feast.

Beer and pizza is one of your favourite combos. The greasy slices pair perfectly with the calorie-filled alcohol. The alcohol fuels your haze which just makes you want more.

You let your brain turn off entirely and get to work. After a few swigs that empty half of beer number three, you stack two pieces together and dig in. You found you can trick your brain into thinking you've eaten less than you actually have this way. You can also eat faster, which means you can shovel more in before your gut starts to signal how full you are.

Your gluttonous trance takes over, and you mindlessly glut out on your pizza, pausing to take another drink, drag, or bite of cheesybread or cauliflower. Your pizza sandwich technique means you eat half the pizza in 15 minutes, along with a quarter of the cheesy bread, and you're well into beer number four. You don't feel full yet, but you do feel heavy. All of that food sits in your belly, and your belly sits on your plush thighs, slowly pushing your knees apart.

As you get higher, you're reduced to your desires and your pleasures. You get distracted by the flashy family comedy, your laughs interrupted by surprised boozy pizza belches. You rub your gut, pudgy fingers sinking into your inches of flab. The flavours of everything explode on your tongue, and you just need more. Every bite is nearly orgasmic and not so slowly, but surely, your gut stretches to accommodate your massive meal. Your upper belly juts out, soon sticking out past your flabby chest and fat-laden lower belly. Gurgles and churns echo louder than your tv, more and more sloppy belches falling from your mouth. At some point your shirt comes off to give you easier access to your belly, and so you rub and jostle it, trying to ease the aching organ while also getting riled up.

You slow your frantic gorging, instead slowly snacking on everything, switching up flavours to trick yourself into eating more. Forty-five minutes later all that remains is two pieces of cheesy bread, five cauliflower bites, and one piece of pizza. The last bite of lava cake feels like cement in your mouth, but you swallow it down and chase it with another swig of beer. You feel your skin stretch with every gulp, the itching sending shivers up your spine. Once beer number 6 is empty your hand just lets go, and the can falls down your body into the pile of cans and pizza boxes from tonight, leaving a trail of sticky booze down your belly.

Your head falls back and you pant through the burps and moans. You don't remember the last time you were this stuffed. Every breath feels like a gamble, your stomach actually creaking with every movement.

You wish they were here, your feeder. Well, ex-feeder. They would have lit the bong for you, rubbed your gut as you faded in and out of conciousness, and then started stuffing you once they thought you had room.

Fuck them, I can do this myself. You were too fat for them now? You were just getting started.

You grab the bong from the seat beside you and lit up. You take a few more shallow hits, your lungs just out of room to expand for a deep inhale. After a few minutes the more intense aches ease and your eyes get heavy, but you are determined to stay awake. At the very least, you're going to finish the pizza and cheesy bread.

There are more beers on the coffee table, but you physically cannot lean forward to get them. You're completely pinned down by the mass in your gut, compounding on your rapidly climbing weight that your body hadn't gotten used to yet. 112lbs in one year was a lot to take on. So you'll have to finish this dry. Not that you weren't fucking trashed by now, but having a sip between items usually helped.

The first piece of cheesybread goes down quickly, your last hit somehow spurring the munchies again, despite your current state. Your stomach starts to protest though, and the last piece is completed by little nibbles. A dangerous burp works its way up so you take another break, trying to gingerly massage your belly. Everything is swimming, and your arm feels like its being controlled by a puppet string, uncoordinated and foreign. You feel your stomach move under your hand as if a baby is kicking, but it's just the absurd amount of food and booze you've forced inside your body, churning away.

You casually eat the cauliflower bites, trying to focus on the end of the movie rather than your body fighting back against every swallow. You can barely understand what's being said on the tv, your pulse in your ears and in your crotch, and yet new levels of intoxication washing over you. You try to grab the last piece of pizza to get this over with, but your marionette arm just won't cooperate. You miss the slice twice entirely, your swaying vision making coordination incredibly hard. The third time you grab it awkwardly, hand half on the crust and half in the sauce, but you call this a success and bring it to your slack jaw.

Every bite feels like you have to remember how to chew, jaw sore, gut viscerally protesting, weed and booze zapping all of your focus, every part of your body is working against you.

Finally, bite after agonizing bite, the credits roll, and the entire pizza is gone. Everything is gone, into your overtaxed stomach. You can only moan now, too stuffed, high, and drunk to form a coherent thought. You rest your hads on top of your shelf of a gut, unable to figure out how to make your arms move to rub your belly without jostling it. Every breath sends another flash of cramps over your middle, your lungs just putting that much extra pressure on your abused organ. Fuck, you've really overdone it now. There is no way you could move even if your life depended on it.

Day one of Christmas Binge: Success.

#queer feedism #intox kink #intox feedee #stuffed fatty #feedism story #intox wg #stuffing literature #stuffing story #drunk stuffing #feedist #queer feedist #feedee belly #feed me #stuffing burps #stuffing wg

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everwitch-magiks · 9 months ago

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It’s Beas nice ask day!

So my question for you: What is your craziest “truth is stranger than fiction” moment you have experienced in real life

Hi Beas! What a fun initiative! ♡

Alright, buckle up. This happened to me once. Is it strange? You bet. Is it true? Unfortunately.

It was a fairly normal day and I was changing a lightbulb. This is relevant because, when I heard an alarmingly loud noise, I initially thought it had something to do with the electricity in the building. It was simply my first association - I was changing a lightbulb and something went 'bang!' and that is not what you want to happen when you're changing a lightbulb.

But it wasn’t the electricity at all. The source of the 'bang!' was a roof that had blown off. I learned this by walking out of the kitchen and into the living room and looking out the window at the building next to ours, which had a large sheet of steel roof hanging off of it sort of like a slice of ham that'd slid halfway off a sandwich. This is not something you want to happen with a roof.

I feel it's relevant to mention here that this building - like ours - was an apartment building four storeys high that went along the entire street. The size of the roof hanging off of that building was very, very large.

Another relevant fact: it was fucken wimdy.

(Third relevant fact: nobody was injured in this incident.)

Anyhow. Half the neighborhood must have called various emergency services, because the street below the precariously dangling roof was quickly fenced off behind loudly yellow tape, and a lot of competent persons started working to get the roof down from there. It was quite the spectacle. Meanwhile, we were live tweeting the whole thing, because what else do you do when the neighbors' roof blows off because it's fucken wimdy?

And this is when the story takes a turn. I got a text from my mom going 'we saw on the news that your roof blew off, are you guys okay?' I texted her back assuring her that yes we are okay, and no it's not our roof, it's the neighbors. She immediately texted me back: 'no, it is your roof.'

What?

We went back and forth a while. No mom, it's the neighbors. It's hanging off of their building. Yes, the roof on our building is fine. No, I cannot go out and check - it is kind of busy outside given this whole roof sitch. But really, it isn't our building - we are literally here, watching it unfold. It isn’t our roof. It's the neighbors.

'But it really looks like your building in this photo from above?'

So I sighed and rolled my eyes and went to check the photo she was talking about and-

And it was definitely, 100% our roof.

Our roof had flown off of our building and landed on the building next to ours. That was what we were witnessing. We were roof-less and hadn't even realized, and we didn't find out until my mom - hours away! - linked me an article about it.

Just like that, our stress levels about the roof situation went from a weak 20 to a solid 90.

The whole thing was weirdly fine, though. Our building was surrounded by scaffolding topped with a makeshift roof for a few months while they installed a new one. This did not, all things considered, impact us very much. All our lightbulbs worked perfectly throughout. We don't live there anymore, but I hear the new roof has weathered windy weather better than the old one.

Thus ends my anecdote from a strange event in my real life. Thank you again for the ask! ♡

#answered

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sunnywalnut · 3 months ago

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The worst part of this is that some of these claims actually sound like they could be true.

"portion sizes change how hungry you feel" well yeah if I eat too little I still feel hungry. But you could also flip that around to aid diet culture to be like "hey! Here's how to trick your body into being smaller! Because smaller people eat less, riiiiight? :D" which is. Blatantly not true. At all. Genetics can play a big frickin role in your weight due to fat distribution, muscle mass, and also actual medical phenomenons such as thyroid issues.

"if you're served second portions you're more likely to eat them" yeah. Cause I feel RUDE if it's already on my plate that I already ate off of. But if I didn't ask for them, I'll probably just pick at em a bit then ask if I can take it home. So yk. Technically true.

Funsized candy has always been stupid to me but I can understand where people are like "well I don't want to eat a full candy bar right now that's too much sugar for me in one sitting" but like. It's barely even a bite and it's gone in two seconds before you can even register the flavor. Which leads you to eat more. Or at least. For me.

"boredom and stress can make you eat more and that's not normal" I mean. I GUESS? Bc eating disorders go both ways and should be taken seriously but like. Food is also comfort. Unless your actual doctor says that you can't do something for your own health, like if you eat too much sugar your diabetes will act up, whatever you decide helps as a little pick me up is perfectly healthy. As long as it's in moderation with healthy choices in the mix. Whatever that looks like for you.

"eating in front of a screen is bad for digestion" I mean like. A bunch of weirder things have been proven correct. Especially about human bodies. Then again. I feel like before TV people would put on plays or reenact stories for entertainment. Because. They still do that to this day.

"Western food is unhealthy" I mean yeah. Some of our stuff is flavored with grease or oil of some sort(like butter or bacon grease if you're real country). Which isn't healthy in large amounts. But also it's commonly very high in protein and carbs. Things you need in order to power through a day at the farm. Which a lot of us originated. Because America was originally unfarmed land(or at least. Unfarmed by white people. Natives had their own business going on before the colonizers came around). Literally one of the most common staples in the Midwest is chili with ground beef and a peanut butter sandwich. It's warm, it's simple, it's filling, and it's good. Not everything should be equated to a salad. And even then the kind of restrictions on those things can be kind of weird sometimes.

"Cereal mascots draw in children through eye contact and being at eye level" kids do learn a lot through colors and eye contact/body language. But they also like sugar, tasty snacks, toys in boxes and the games on the back. Which is all included. But I can confirm that as a child, I never once looked at a mascot or been super hyped about a cereal just because of one. It's a piece of cardboard. All the colors blended into all the other ones in the store. I have, however, begged my mom for a cereal because of the cool toy inside.

Like. Statements like this that feel like they can be true but don't actually have much to back them up or are conflated by word of mouth are very common when rolling around in society. Because in the situations that these things are brought up, it's usually in conversation among people you know or are comfortable with. And the conversation moves fast enough that you either don't pick up on it, or just forget to fact check it later.

Sometimes you just accept them as fact because you can pretty much "tell" by the way it sounds that it's plausible.

Which is also how a lot of people fall for conservative rhetoric even if they or their loved ones are part of the "problem" that these people are trying to "solve"

And that is also why I want to remind everyone that NOBODY is immune to propaganda.

Not me. Not your mom or your teachers or even your leader. President, King, governor or otherwise.

Because the literal definition taken from Google, word for word is:

Information, especially of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote or publicize a particular political cause or point of view.

Which could mean anything. Because propaganda could be anything. Even something as little and harmless as thinking that shopping while hungry makes you buy more. The worst thing that could happen is you just buy too much junk food and then you eat it. Because food isn't the devil. It's fuel. Even if it's just for the soul.

So yeah. Be careful out there.

"don't go grocery shopping when hungry" doesn't work for me because Not Hungry Me cannot conceive of a universe in which food is needed so she buys like a cup of pomegranate seeds and some fancy cheese and thinks that'll get us through the week.

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icarusthelunarguard · 5 months ago

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This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter. Better yet! Check out “Heart of the Game, Fredonia” and see if they can sell you those D12’s with the symbols on them. Tell them “Shujin Tribble” sentcha. And “Hail, Hail, Fredonia!” Home of the Blue Devil!

Normally there’s a common theme running through the Horrible-Scopes, but not THIS time! Nope! The intention this week is to get as random as possible and still make sense. What makes that different from every other week’s listing? We’re not sure, but we’re willing to go out on a limb and say, “The Man of La Mancha.”

Aries

You’re a “Straight Ahead Jazz” personality in an ABACAB world. You want to carve your own path while nearly everything around you is following identifiable patterns. You’re the one going for the High-Score in Frogger while trying to find exploitable timings and pixel hit-boxes. So This Week… There are plenty of companies that refurbish and sell arcade game cabinets from the 80’s. Just buy one and be done with it.

Taurus

No matter what you might think, there really ARE women’s shoes called “Kitten Heels”. And no, Catwoman never wore a set. If you want to learn how to wear heels but afraid that you’ll break your ankles the first time you try to walk in them, these are the shoes for you! So This Week… GUYS! If you wear a Size 10, go with a Women’s Size 12 - maybe in a wide version. Spirit Halloween Stores are being readied as we speak. Get Used To Your Costume’s Footwear Now!

Gemini

The biggest problem for you getting a new computer is realizing how little money you have to work with. Don’t think spending less for a Pre-Built model is a good value all the time. With just a little coaching you can set up a damned good computer on a budget with only minimal amounts of corner cutting. So This Week… Do not watercool your computer yourself. There’s only so many corners you can successfully cut - and heat management isn’t one of them to screw around with.

Cancer Moon-Child

We understand that you want to please everyone around you, but you have to take time out for yourself. It’s not being selfish, it’s being concerned for the person that’s helping all those other people. So This Week… Get your sleep. Stay Hydrated. And for crying out loud! Learn how to make a Long Island Egg Sandwich Breakfast! It’s LOADS better than anything BK or Micky-Dees will put out.

Leo

While the summer months are still here we’re going to suggest you consider and then disregard a very specific new hobby - Model Rocketry! Sure, it’s fun to play Kerbal Space Program in real life. But only until you start learning the math and realize you’ve just made a rocket with an acceleration of about 50g’s. So This Week… If a Kerbonaut weighs 30kg on Kerbin, putting them in a rocket pulling 50g’s would make them weigh “Chunky Salsa”. PLUS the ground is too dry - you’re gunna set off a wildfire. Don’t Do It!

Virgo

Speaking of it being Summerime, there’s a good way to pass the time in air conditioned goodness while not spending the money on the electricity; go out and watch a movie for a change. You haven’t been to see one in a couple years, but this is your big opportunity. And if you’re really lucky you’ll get to see upcoming trailers for movies like “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.” So This Week… How wild would it be for the star “Betelgeuse” to finally go Supernova the same week that the movie comes out! That’d be pretty amazing, right? Maybe place a bet on it happening?

Libra

Remember the “G.I. Joe” toys from the 1980’s? Originally there was never supposed to be a villain group, but the Marvel Comics stories written by Larry Hama created them. Eventually Cobra toys sold 40% of all the Joe toy sales. And since each medium to feature G.I. Joe has had its own continuity, not unlike the Marvel Multiverse, the origin and portrayal of Cobra has differed in each of them. And do you know what "C.O.B.R.A." is an acronym for? Time for you to learn! So This Week… MOST people think it stands for "COnversion by Blackmail, Revolution and Anarchy". Trouble is, the guy who wrote the original comics vehemently denies this. So what’s it gunna be? Reality or Fun?

Scorpio

Back in 1979 there was a TV series, “Buck Rogers in the 25th Century”. And just like the original “Battlestar Galactica” the pilot episode was turned into a motion picture release in theatres. If ever you wanted to learn what “Plot Armor” is all about, watch it! This single-person shuttle, Ranger 3, is shot at by laser guns from a Draconian Fighter and all it does is singe the outside a little. So This Week… If you get HURT but not HARMED in your day-to-day life, it means you’re The Special! The fourth wall is out there for you to look through. Use It!

Sagittarius

We've got some really important life advice for you, so listen closely. DON’T. BE. A. DICK. No, seriously - just don’t. If you go into a store, looking for something to buy, and for some reason it doesn’t have a price tag and the staff shows you WHERE the tag WAS and the obvious scrape-off residue… Do NOT pitch a fit because they won’t sell it to you!! So This Week… Grow a pair and apologize to the people you treated like crap! Because if you don’t SOMEONE’S going to notice and have you pay for it later, somehow….

Capricorn

There are reasons to drink, and what the drink is will determine the timeframe. For Instance; Coffee? Fresh ground and brewed, flaming hot? First Thing In The Morning. Dry Red Wine? The First Hour At An All-You-Can-Eat Meat Buffet Like Texas De Brazil. See? It’s simple! So This Week… Don’t you EVER consider INSTANT FREEZE-DRIED DECAF COFFEE! We WILL disown you!

Aquarius

Not much time left in the summer so you better get a little splurge time in. We’ve suggested taking a drive for a day trip a couple times before… but how about a twist on it? Rent A Supercar! It’ll be a little more expensive than renting a Ford Fusion or a Nissan Leaf, but imagine all the people staring at you as you drive by in a McLaren Artura Spider! So This Week… You might not be able to afford renting one, but you can at least SIT in one. See if you can do that. It’ll be worth it.

Pisces

Do you have any idea how cared about you are? We didn’t think so. You are so tough to convince, but we’re never going to stop trying. You are special and valid and don’t need to try so hard. As hard as it’ll be for you to do, slow down just a little bit. That sore muscle is your Yellow Card; it’s a warning. Pay attention to it. So This Week… Yellow Cards are used in European Futball and Letterkenny Business Pitch Meetings. Go binge on some Letterkenny episodes this week.

And THOSE are your Horrible-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know - or check out the Ko-Fi page ( https://ko-fi.com/icarusthelunarguard )! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Discord, and BLUESKY.

#parody #horrorscope #funny #horoscope #humor #comedy #hollywood squares #george gobel #true or false drinking five martinis a day can destroy your brain #i would have to say that the answer is The Man of La Mancha

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tsjmakeovers · 1 year ago

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Ideas for Easy and Quick Breakfasts: How Many Ounces Are in a Cup?

Are you sick and weary of wasting valuable morning time making a complicated breakfast? We will look at quick and easy breakfast ideas in this blog so you can start the day feeling energized and prepared.

How Many Ounces in a Cup?

How many ounces in a cup, Eight fluid ounces is the normal cup size in the United States. It is important to remember, however, that the conversion can be different elsewhere in the globe. Use the cup measurement called for in the recipe directions when following a recipe; otherwise, you risk getting unreliable results.

Quick Breakfast Ideas?

Eight-ounce cup of overnight oats: These oats are a time-saver's paradise. All you need to do is mix 1/2 cup of rolled oats, 1/2 cup of plant-based or dairy milk, and your preferred sweetener. Add your preferred nuts, seeds, or fruits on top. After an overnight chill in the refrigerator, voilà! When you wake up, a filling and healthy breakfast is waiting.

Parfait with Greek Yogurt (8-ounce cup): In an 8-ounce cup, arrange 1/2 cup Greek yogurt, 1/4 cup granola, and your favorite fruit. Pour some honey over it for more sweetness. In addition to being tasty, this parfait is loaded with fiber and protein to keep you full.

Smoothie (8 oz cup): Blend 1/2 cup frozen fruits, 1/2 cup milk of your choice, a spoonful of your preferred nut butter, and a handful of spinach or kale. Add sweeteners such as agave syrup or honey to personalize it. You will have a wholesome meal to go in a matter of minutes.

Simple Breakfast Ideas:

Avocado Toast (8 oz cup): Spread half of an avocado over a piece of whole-grain toast after mashing it. For more flavor, add a dash of red pepper flakes, salt, and pepper. This easy meal is high in fiber and good fats, and it comes together quickly.

Eggs scrambled (8 oz cup): Beat two eggs with a dash of pepper and salt. Pour the eggs onto a nonstick pan that has been heated to medium heat and lightly coated with butter or oil. Gently stir until they are just set. You can whip up this high-protein meal in less than five minutes.

Peanut Butter Banana Sandwich (8 oz cup): On whole-grain bread, spread two teaspoons of peanut butter. Add a honey drizzle and the sliced bananas. Put your sandwich together and enjoy a delicious blend of tastes.

Overall, including quick and simple breakfast ideas in your daily routine guarantees that you eat a healthy meal to start the day off as well as saves time. In case you have ever wondered how to convert ounces to cups, keep in mind that an 8-ounce standard cup is equivalent to one in the US. There are plenty of delectable recipes, culinary tips, and solutions to frequently asked questions about the kitchen. Utilize your hectic days to the most by enjoying your mornings with these simple breakfast options!

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wolken-himmel · 2 years ago

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In which a young Azul grows curious of a human child on a nearby ship.

When a storm hits the ship, he saves the child from drowning.

Request by anon.

"You shouldn't be watching that human ship, Azul..."

"Humans are really interesting, Jade."

"You're so right, Azul! They're so... dry."

Three mer-children remained hidden behind a jagged formation of rocks that peeked out from beneath a few platoons of ice. At this time of the year, it was normal for the ocean to be covered in floes of ice, so much that it sometimes obstructed the entire surface and prevented any merfolk to reach the surface. Such had been the case a few days ago, but now, the icy surface had been reduced to lone floes. However, the ship in front of them still was surrounded by them, rendering it unable to move.

The ship was filled with humans of all sizes and ages, but only a few of them dared to venture out onto the cold deck and stare off into the endless ocean. Even now, only a dozen of the hundreds stuck on the ship stood atop for the three mer-children to observe.

Jade quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "Isn't this the ship that has been stuck for days in the ice already? Why would humans even travel around here during this season?"

His words fell only fell on deaf ears. Azul's eyes were wide and glossy, a dreamy sheen covering them. "I do wonder how life on land is..." he muttered to himself and gazed at his many tentacles in dismay. A hearty sigh escaped his lips as he watched them writhe under his control. "Perhaps humans are kinder than merfolk?"

"I do not think that cruelty is merely constricted to the sea," Jade retorted in amusement. "I have heard stories of sailors capturing mermaids and taking them away from their homes, for example."

"Surely, at least the human children have to be nicer than the other mer-children at our school..."

"Oh hey—" Floyd suddenly piped up, "you see that human child there—?"

Azul immediately jumped up and propelled himself out of the water with his strong tentacles. A frantic expression on his face, he easily peeked out from above the rock formation and searched for the human that his eel friend had mentioned. "Where?! Where—" he cried out and continued his search, succeeding when he found a small silhouette standing at the very front of the deck — you.

"Oh, does someone have a crush~?" Jade asked teasingly, laughing when he noticed how Azul's cheeks turned a soft red.

With a heavy heart, Azul let himself sink into the water again and returned to his place sandwiched between his two fellow friends. A little smile decorated his chubby face as he scratched the back of his head. "I— I just really like watching (Y/n) on deck," he murmured shyly. "Those eyes are full of kindness and happiness."

Just as he had uttered these words, a long bout of laughter escaped your lips, the sound of it heavenly and heart-touching to Azul.

Floyd began snickering. "Hey, he even knows the human's name!"

However, Jade merely shook his head, and plainly stated, "You know that you'll never meet (Y/n)."

At that, a wistful sigh escaped the octopus' trembling lips. "I know..." he muttered under his breath and let his tentacles curl up around himself.

"We'll just lure your human off the ship and take it home with us!" Floyd exclaimed.

"Humans can't breathe underwater like us..." Azul began, his dejection soon turning into determination. "But I am working on a potion to give them such an ability!" A proud giggle escaped his lips when he slapped his chest proudly.

Jade rolled his eyes. "You and your potions, Azul." Then, he tilted his head to the side, and like a disappointed parents, continued, "Talking of that, you should study for tomorrow's alchemy test instead, no? Leave the poor human alone."

"You're right, Jade... Let's just go home."

And yet, Jade couldn't have been more wrong. Within less than a few days, Azul got his opportunity to meet you.

During the night, the loud sound of thunder from above the surface had awoken him from his slumber. At once, he knew that this must have been the thunderstorm that his mother had talked about just earlier this evening. Unlike the other children at his school, he didn't fear the sound of thunder and the sight of lightning as much as he should have. Rarely ever having seen bolts of lightning strike anything due to living at the bottom of the sea, his curiosity took the best of him.

Moreover, he also feared for the ship stuck between floes of ice. And indeed, his greatest worry became reality when he arrived on the surface, hidden behind the same rock formation from earlier that day. He appeared just in time to watch a large bolt of lightning strike the main mast of the ship, sending the large pole of wood crashing to the side. The ship lost its balance and dangerously tilted to the right.

And in the middle of it all, you seemed to be holding onto the railing for dear life, separated from your parents by the fallen mast.

"(Y/n)! Hold on— don't let go of the railing!"

"Mommy, I can't hold on much longer!"

"(Y/n)! No—!"

His eyes grew wide in horror as he watched you being flung into the hungry waves when the railing gave away. Your body disappeared beneath the pitch-black surface with a large splash. Your parents watched helplessly, being held back by the crew of the ship.

Azul had always been told that he should never, under no circumstances, interact with humans. But, in a moment of pity and worry, he decided that he couldn't stand idly by and watch as the sea consumed you whole. Without wasting a second, he jolted forward and swam as quickly as he could to the spot where you had fallen into.

The sea was treacherous and uncontrollable, especially at the surface. There were times when he couldn't swim straight properly, being tossed around by the waves like a rag-doll. But, he pushed on, and when he dove deeper upon seeing traces of your hair in the dark water, the water around him seemed to calm down. And suddenly, the darkness was vanquished by a rays of the sun barely reaching down into such depths.

The storm seemed to have ended.

A relieved look flashed across his face as he grabbed your arm and yanked you upwards, into the direction of the surface. Your eyes were struggling to stay open, and your lips already were a little bit blue-ish. You were clearly struggling with staying conscious. As he swam as quickly as his tentacles would let him, he worried for your lungs, and for your body temperature. Would you make it? He desperately hoped so.

When you arrived at the surface, you instinctively took in deep breaths of air, your chest rising and falling heavily. You spat out what seemed like litres of salty water, all the while holding onto your saviour for dear life. And in return, he wrapped half of his tentacles around you, hoping to warm you and keep you steady.

"W-What happened?" you cried out, frantically looking around in disorientation.

Azul shot you a shy smile when your eyes met his. "Don't worry, you're safe now..." Without another word, he swam towards a plank of wood that floated on the silent surface of the sea. His moves were careful as he transferred you to the plank, making sure you lay on top and had evaded the cold water.

"Did you save me?" you asked with wide eyes.

Azul nodded awkwardly, about to swim away when you grabbed one of his tentacles and pulled him back to you. He cursed himself for having put his tentacles on the plank in the first place. With a heavy heart, he let himself be pulled back. A frightened gasp escaped his lips when you let go of his tentacle and wrapped your arms around him. He forced his eyes close at first, frightened.

"Thank you... Thank you so much," you breathed out and tightened your grasp around him. "I would have surely died... without you."

"I-It's no problem!" Azul cried out with red cheeks.

"(Y/n)!" a voice yelled from the ship. "Are you alright? Your mother and I were so worried—"

Upon seeing your parents, he pried himself out of your arms and swam a few metres back, much to your confusion. A sheepish smile appeared on his face as he pointed to your parents. "I think it's time for me to leave..." he muttered under his breath, about to dive into the safety of the water again, only for you to shake your head vigorously.

"Tell me your name first."

"Azul," he stuttered out.

A smile blossomed on your face, and you began waving at him when he turned around and swam away from you. "I'll never forget you, Azul!" you yelled after him, making his heart flutter heavily.

It was only when he was behind his formation of rocks again, hidden from anyone's sight, that he exhaled proudly and clutched his chest in happiness. "And I'll never forget you, (Y/n)..."

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert #y/n #disney twst #twst x you #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #twst azul ashengrotto #twst azul x reader #twisted wonderland azul #gender neutral reader

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absolutelyfizzing · 3 years ago

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angels and demons

warren worthington x reader fluff

@shuckfaced-fangirl Hi! can I request a warren worthington x female mutant reader where her powers are shadow summoning? So I guess everyone in the school kind of views her as some sort of demon? With a lot of fluff? Thank you!!

Description - Y/N is a shadow summoner and is isolated from her peers. Warren helps her see that not everyone fears her and that she is worthy of affection.

warnings - its so fluffy. fem pronouns. some angsty stuff (isolation, depression, sadness), one innuendo, devastating fluff, warren being an angel. i tried to make it POC inclusive, please let me know if it feels restricting or excluding and i will edit it.

word count - 3700, i got carried away

A/N - im so sorry this took so long, i took a break from writing while i am working on moving to college. i will still be spotty for the next few weeks but hopefully, i will post a few more things in that time and then get back on a normal schedule. also, thanks so much for this request, i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope it is something you enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

You walked through the halls with a lowered head. You knew that you made others uncomfortable and so you chose to try to make yourself as small and unthreatening as possible. You had been 'gifted' powers with which you could manipulate and create darkness. You were a shadow summoner. That wasn't a name that many found reassuring or comforting.

There were a few who could see past it and who was close to being what you might call friends but those people were few and far between. There were overwhelmingly more people who believed that you must have been a scary and mean person, that you were some sort of demon. This couldn't have been further from the truth if one were to look past appearances. Your shadow was larger and darker than that of your peers and it trailed behind you with a mind of its own, moving and growing without you even meaning for it to happen. Your hands were constantly covered in something darker and dustier than the rest of your skin, a deep and pure black. It trailed from the tips of your fingers and faded on your forearm so it looked as though you had just dipped your arms into a chimney or that shadows were crawling up your arms.

When you first got them, you thought they were sort of cool. They made you look sort of goth and that was fun. That feeling quickly faded when you saw how others, even your family, reacted. They said it was a curse from hell. You were barely convinced otherwise.

You sat away from others at the school during free periods. During lunch you sat alone and in the sun when you could, you hoped it might make others be less scared of you as it might make you look brighter but your shadow, dark and ominous, maintained a spot near you. You wore clothes that made you look more approachable to try to maintain that you weren't scary. Your brightly colored outfit didn't ever seem to work though, no matter how hard you tried.

You looked down at the food in your hands, the sandwich only half-eaten, and you noted your hands. They were so normal looking, your nails were well kept and you thought they were a good size. That they might even be a good size for someone to hold. The only thing was the unnaturally colored dust that seemed to cover them. It was a cool black, it glistened and sparkled in the sun when your fingers moved. It never moved or transferred to anything else, always stuck securely to your skin. You were distracted by the way your fingers seemed to shine when a shadow came near yours, wings outlined in it. You looked up to see a tall blond boy above you with curly hair and bags under his eyes. He nodded to a spot on the grass near you.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

You shook your head and even scooted away from the spot to give him more space despite the fact that you were in a large field.

"Do you want me to move?" You asked gently, wondering if maybe he wanted this particular spot and you took it from him unknowingly.

"I mean, I think that would sort of take away the whole point of me trying to sit with you." He smirked and you felt blood rush to your cheeks. "I like your hands" He hummed and you looked at him in shock. When his eyes met yours you tilted your head a bit.

"They don't bother you?" You tried to speak softly.

"No, I think they're awesome. They make you look punk." He smiled and you felt the corners of your mouth tug up a bit too.

"I like your wings." You almost mumbled as you allowed your gaze to move to the large feathery wings behind him. They moved in the wind and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers through them. "They make you look like an angel." You smiled and he groaned dramatically.

"I'm trying to look grunge." He pouted and you giggled a bit. At the sound, he looked up at you and blushed a bit. "Maybe we should trade."

"If I could trade you I would. Everyone is scared of how I look." You gazed back at the grass.

"I'm not." His simple statement made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you smiled a bit. You looked back at him and made eye contact for a moment.

"What's your name?" You asked and he maintained his gaze into your eyes. It was the most contact or conversation with someone else you'd had in a long time.

"I'm Warren." He smiled a bit and stuck a hand out to you to shake. You looked at his hand in shock. Nobody ever voluntarily touched your hands. Most of them worried that whatever was on them would spread. You hesitantly brought your hand to his, purposefully giving him plenty of time to remove his hand if he felt uncomfortable. But he didn't. Instead, your hand reached his and he shook it before letting go as if it was no big deal.

"I'm Y/N." You smiled a bit more and you felt a giggle come out of you from the joy of realizing this wasn't a dream, that someone was trying to talk to you and they weren't afraid.

"Is my name that funny?" He teased.

"No, I just-" you paused to think, "it's been so long since anyone has done this with me."

"Talked to you?" He questioned, obviously expecting you to say no and explain what you meant. Instead, you just nodded and his heart clenched for a moment. "Well, you can stick with me then."

"I don't know if you want your reputation to take a hit like that."

"My reputation is 'the angry and damaged kid', I'm sure it can handle the breaking news of me talking to a nice and pretty girl." He reassured before he even realized what he was saying. You could have cried at the feeling that rose up in your chest.

After that day, you stuck to his side like glue and he took no issue with it. The more you got to know him the more you appreciated the fact that he had taken you in. With his help, over the coming months, he helped you develop a stable friend group. That group included people like Ororo and Jane who had heard rumors about you and never bothered to check and see if they were real. They apologized profusely, especially Jean as she felt like she could have easily found out that you were kinder than she thought with her abilities but just had never done so, and you gladly accepted, just happy to be within a group.

You and Warren had developed a reputation. He was overly protective and gruff while you were overly nice and empathetic. You balanced each other well and if you were honest, you were in love with him. That always felt weird to say, you'd never been in love with anyone before but every second you spent with him made you more and more sure of your feelings.

When you and Warren were together, you would daydream about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. Being held by him and wrapped in his wings. Getting to play with his unkempt hair. Holding his hand.

Sometimes he would try to encourage you to hold his hand. He would hold it out to you when he was helping you jump down from somewhere high. He would ask you to hand him things and then make decisive contact as he took it from you. He knew that it meant a lot to you, you practically gasped and blushed every time he did it. He had never met anyone so touch starved. He wanted to give you all the affection that you craved.

Unfortunately, Warren was rather oblivious, especially towards things like feelings and emotions. He had no clue that you had any interest in him, even though he hoped you did every day. If he wasn't so attached to your friendship, he might ask you out. Instead, he tried to maintain a friendly distance so he didn't cross any lines while also being as affectionate with you as he could be. You followed a similar path.

The person caught in the middle of this was poor Jean Gray. she had watched you pine over each other since you met and had heard every thought that went through both of your heads. She knew you would never complain or ask for help about anything so she liked to keep tabs on your thoughts every once in a while to make sure you were okay. Still, she tried her best to not listen very often or when you were thinking about anything very personal, she honestly did. But she was a romantic. All she wanted was for you two idiots to get together but you were both oblivious. She decided, probably 3 months into you becoming friends, that she had to do something about it.

She was sitting on your bed while you sat across your bedroom on your small couch. She fiddled with her thumbs while she tried to ignore your constant thoughts about Warren, his hands, his wings, his smile. She was exhausted. she took a small breath while she planned how she would try to say this to you.

"Do you want to know what I heard today?" She called and you looked up at her from the book you were pretending to read.

"Do you mean heard or 'heard'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes.

"Either." Then she tilted her head. "Both."

"Yeah, I wanna know! What's it about?" You asked while leaning forward in your seat. Jean always had the best gossip to tell because she could literally hear it.

"Warren." She stated simply and watched your reaction. You flushed and stopped breathing for a moment.

"Wha-" you stuttered, "what about him?"

"That he has a thing for you." she winked and you flushed even more.

"You're lying." You assured, a questioning look on your face.

"I'm not and I'm tired of watching you two longing after one another while the rest of the school watches." She smiled and your heart picked up.

"I thought I told you not to look in my head!" You scolded but you weren't actually all that upset. You knew that it was very hard for her to control.

"I cant help it! Both of you think so loud. And I wouldn't have to anyway, Ororo mentioned it to me the other day and she definitely cants read minds." She giggled and you smiled a bit.

"Does he actually like me?" You almost whispered in disbelief.

"Yes! He's been obsessed with you since you started talking."

"But like he would want to actually go-"

"Y/N, I swear to god. If you don't go and talk to him right now I'm going to have a fit." She laughed and you glared at her.

"Okay okay fine, I'm going," you grumbled as you stood and walked toward your door. "If you are wrong I'm gonna be so upset with you."

She just laughed again and you started to walk down the hallway. You thought he might be in his room or outside. You decided to check his room first.

You knocked on his door but you were met with silence. You tried the handle and it moved.

"Warren?" you paused, "I'm coming in," you warned and pushed the door open. When you looked inside, he wasn't there. You took a moment to gaze around his room, it wasn't the first time you had been in there but every time was a bit exciting as you got to see all of the things he had that represented him. He had a boombox and a CD collection on his dresser. Some of his clothes were thrown around his room haphazardly and some of his drawers were open. You looked at the wall next to you where he kept photos that you took. You would carry around a camera or take pictures on your phone of everyone around campus. He always asked for them and then printed them out so he could hang them up. He had even managed to get a couple of you. You smiled a bit before heading back into the hallway, closing the door behind you.

You instead moved towards the door to get out onto the lawn where you thought he would probably be. He often sat under the big oak trees or on the roof if he wanted to get away from people. When you made it outside, you looked around for him.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout. You turned to look for him and saw his silhouette flying from the roof. You paused to admire him and his wings. He always looked so angelic to you. So powerful. You thought about how your power emanated darkness. That you would never appear angelic to someone and would more likely look like a demon. You looked down at your hands for a second, a habit you had when you were thinking about your powers. They sparkled a bit in the sun but it did little to quell the distaste in your mouth.

Suddenly there was a shadow in front of you that was not part of the darkness that surrounded you.

"Y/N?" he asked gently. "Are you okay?" he tried not to startle you. Being empathetic wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he tried extra hard around you. he noticed the way you were staring at your hands. The growth of your shadow as you thought about your powers more. He moved to touch one of your hands but you flinched back a bit. He brought his hand back and looked at you with concern. "Whats wrong, angel?" He asked lightly and you looked up at the pet name. He had started calling you that soon after you became friends. You thought it was out of irony but he really was convinced that you were some sort of angel. He also loved the way that your eyes would light up when he said it. You stared at him for a moment in silence.

"Do I scare you?" You asked quietly and your voice shook. He looked surprised by your question and you were surprised too. You didn't know why you were suddenly getting emotional. Why this was now all you could think about. Why it had to come up now when you were trying to express your feelings for him. Instead of responding he reached out to your hand, holding onto it when you let him, despite flinching away slightly. He started to walk, leading you toward the same tree you had met under. Once you both reached it he sat down and looked up at you, waiting for you to sit down too. You did, maybe a bit farther away from him than you needed to be.

"Do you think you scare me?" he asked genuinely and you took a second to think, looking back down at your hands which were now pulled back into your lap.

"I scare me," you stated simply and paused.

"That's not what I asked."

"I don't know." You mumbled. "I think I freak everyone out. Including you I guess." Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. you really hadn't thought about it in a little while. It had been on your mind plenty when you first started talking to him. You were extra conscious of not pushing him to be around you or near your shadow. You knew that he would move away if he needed to but you also had so many memories of everyone around you fearing you, running from you, telling you that you were a curse. Instead of responding he held his hand out in between the two of you, palm up. You knew that he was inviting you to take it but that he wouldn't push you to. Instead of taking it, you placed your hand near his on the ground and he left his next to yours, not trying to take it if you didn't want him to.

"You don't." He let out, sounding sure of himself and slightly pained. "You don't scare me." You looked at each other. He had tears in his eyes. He was never one to get emotional so you were surprised. "Do I scare you?" he questioned, already knowing your answer but trying to prove a point.

"Of course not." You sighed.

"You have a lot more reason to be afraid of me than I have to be afraid of you." he looked at your hand again. "I'm the one who has a rough history, I'm the one who is angry and has a reputation of being aggressive."

"But, Warren, your mutation is-"

"Mutation has nothing to do with it, Y/N." he sighed. "You have control over your abilities, I have control over mine. The only difference between us is our personalities and I have never had any reason to fear you or dislike you. You're the kindest person I know and everyone in your life who has let you think that there was something wrong with you was terrible. And that was on them."

Your hand reached for his and you laced your fingers together. He squeezed your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"I love you." The words came out of your mouth faster than you could think and you sucked in a breath, almost hoping he didn't hear you. When you glanced up at him he had a gentle smile on his face. He brought the back of your hand up to his face and kissed it before placing it against his cheek.

"I love you too, Y/N" He reached out for your waist and pulled you toward his lap, giving you plenty of time to give him a sign that you were uncomfortable. Instead, you put your leg over his waist so you were straddling his thighs. You held one of his hands in between you and fiddled with his fingers, admiring how your hands contrasted with his. Somehow, him holding your hand made it seem less out of place. You almost felt pride.

You were suddenly surrounded by warmth and shadow, the sounds of the quad around you becoming muted. You looked up around you and his wings were wrapped around the two of you, closing you off into your own little world. You felt the urge to reach out to them but you had never asked. You had never seen him let anyone touch them and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Go ahead." your eyes snapped to his in shock.

"Warren, you never let any-"

"I want you to," he admitted and it was true. He had thought many times about asking you to run your fingers through his wings. He would never complain about it but they were a little high maintenance and also sensitive. He never let anyone touch them because most people weren't gentle or he didn't trust them. He knew though that you were the gentlest person on Earth and that he could count on you to be careful.

At his reassurance, you smiled a bit. You reached a hand out to the part of his wing next to his shoulder. You both gasped a bit when your fingers made contact. Warren was a bit surprised at how sensitive they were to your touch and it had been a long time since anyone but himself had touched them. You were entranced by how soft they were. The feathers were delicate and there were so many. You were very careful in how you moved your hand along his wing, looking at him often to see if he was uncomfortable. As you were carding your fingers through his feathers, one came out. You gasped slightly horrified that you had hurt him.

"Hey, it's okay!" he rushed out as he saw your panic. "They just sort of... shed sometimes." He almost seemed embarrassed. Feathers would come off occasionally and he would often have to brush through them himself to release all of the loose feathers, sort of like brushing your hair. He reached to pick up the feather and held it in front of you for you to take. You gladly did and you twirled it in your fingers. "Maybe sometime, if you wouldn't mind, of course, you could help me brush through them?" he asked quietly and you smiled.

"Yeah of course. They seem like they might be a lot of work." you were touched that he trusted you to do that and you thought about how hard it must be to take care of them by himself when they were so big and most of his wings were behind him.

"You should see what it's like to shower with them," he grumbled and then his eyes widened at what he had said. He hadn't meant it to be an innuendo but now he was worried he offended you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and you fell into a fit of giggles.

"I might have to take you up on that offer." Your gentle gaze made him blush. He had never felt this comfortable with anyone. This safe. He decided right then that he would do anything you ever asked of him.

After that day, you and Warren became the cutest couple at the school. You were opposites in multiple ways and your relationship was more wholesome than any of your friends could handle. You got more confident in yourself and your abilities and he allowed himself to be more vulnerable. everyone agreed that you were a match made in heaven.

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 4 years ago

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I Can’t Say Anything to Your Face

Summary: Lunchtime is Spencer Reid’s favorite time of day and not because of the crappy endless coffee, dry sandwiches, or the occasional chocolate donut. Spencer’s favorite time of day comes in the shape of a little post it notes and fits perfectly into his heart.

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader

Content: Fluff (1 use of a$$)

Author’s Note: The idea of for this came from @shemarmooresfedora for giving Spencer compliment cards

Word Count: 2.6 K

I Can't Say Anything To Your Face

When Spencer checks his watch for the twelfth time that day, he can practically feel Derek’s eyes roll. He tries to cover up his action by picking at his sleeve, but that just seems to draw attention to the situation. Derek raises his eyebrows at Spencer, as if to tell him, I saw that.

When it comes to teasing Spencer, Derek doesn’t miss a beat.

The team, minus Derek and Spencer, continue to work diligently. JJ walks back and forth from her office to Hotch’s, constantly shuffling through piles and piles of paperwork. Emily seems to keep herself busy with the 33 tabs that she has open on her screen. Y/N, who’s tongue slips out of her teeth in concentration, doesn’t look up from her mound of case files. Spencer likes studying how each of the members of his team works, but he particularly likes to watch Y/N. She always sticks her tongue out when she’s deep in thought. Sometimes she’ll close her eyes and rub the butt of her palm against them. Other times she’ll push her glasses up on top of her head and her hair frames her face perfectly. Spencer couldn’t care less what she looked like or how she wore her hair, but watching her was his favorite part of the day.

In a totally platonic, non-creepy way.

A beep distracts Spencer from being distracted by Y/N. It’s an IM from Derek, telling him something to the effect of asking Y/N out. Instead of responding, Spencer decides to send Derek a more direct message. He shuts off his computer, which isn’t really used, besides for Y/N to send Spencer requests for online scrabble.

Spencer, ignoring Derek’s gloating, walks from the bullpen into the team’s lunch room. It’s a small kitchenette with a couple tables, a very old coffee machine, and an even older refrigerator. Peeking into the refrigerator, Spencer takes out two lunch boxes. One is light green with patterned purple and orange dinosaurs all over and the other is a light blue with green plants. Like clockwork, Y/N rounds the corner with a smile plastered to her face.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Spencer asks, placing his lunch box down across from Y/N’s seat.

“It’s just my favorite time of day,” Y/N responds, unzipping her bag and taking out her banana, water bottle, granola, and turkey sandwich.

Spencer tries to hold back his smile at Y/N saying that lunch is her favorite time of day. He likes to believe that it’s because of him and not because of the top tier kitchen facility the government provides for them. But who’s he kidding, there’s no way that lunch is Y/N favorite part of the day because of Spencer when he’s up against a crappy coffee maker.

“Did you know that sandwiches were only called sandwiches because the Earl of Sandwich ate his meals with bread, meat and cheese like modern day sandwiches? However, there’s much debate if sandwiches existed prior to this. Researchers actually believe that sandwiches were simply referred to as bread and meat or bread cheese, depending on the ingredients. There’s hundreds of works of literature that help to determine this,” Spencer says, as he unwraps his leftovers from dinner the previous night.

Y/N, who takes a bite of her turkey sandwich, listens intently to Spencer’s oral history of sandwiches. She starts to respond to Spencer, but before she can even get the chance, Derek interjects into the conversation.

“Hold your horses, there Reid,” Derek says, his voice tainted with sarcasm and Spencer braces himself for a clipping comment, “you don’t want to scare away the newbie,”

Y/N, ever quick witted, rolls her eyes dramatically at Derek. She gets up and moves her seat closer to Spencer who’s heart rate, at the thought of her sitting even closer to him, speeds up. He knows that it's just an effort to tease Derek. That she'd rather suffer next to Spencer, than to have to entertain the idea of sitting next to Derek. But still, Spencer is a dreamer; he'd like to think she'd sit next to him even without the added bonus at avoiding Derek's playful teasing.

“Derek, leave Spencer alone, I happen to adore his facts. You know, I’ve seen I’ve been here I’ve been a Jeopardy beast. And when are you going to realize that I’m not a newbie, I’ve been here for what 2 years-”

“2 years, 4 months, and 4 days,” Spencer says, cursing himself silently for interrupting Y/N.

Derek grabs his lunch from the refrigerator, and sits down across from Spencer and Y/N.

“You remember the day I started?” Y/N asks, turning her attention from Derek to Spencer, whose face is twisted in what he can only assume is an extremely unattractive deer-in-head-lights look. He shrugs off Y/N’s comment, as if to say it’s just normal for him.

"Of course I do, I remember how long each of us has been here,"

"Oh, right. Eidetic Memory," Y/N mumbles, almost like she's slightly disappointed in something.

Suddenly Spencer’s mouth is quite dry; he reaches into his lunch bag to grab his water bottle, but his fingers brush across a small card taped to the outside. Forgetting that showing the card to Morgan would give him enough ammunition for the rest of day, Spencer quickly scans the card. It’s a small piece of paper, but it suddenly has become Spencer’s most treasured object. More than the set of Chaucer tales that his mother gave him, or Gideon’s watch, or his first microscope that his biology teacher in high school gave him at his graduation.

The one side of the card is decorated in small hearts and there’s a sketch of a dinosaur on the other side. In careful handwriting, the giver of the card wrote “Are you made of Nickel, Cerium, Arsenic, and Sulfur? Because you got a NiCe AsS!”

Spencer’s eyes grow a couple sizes once his brain registers the meaning of the card. Handling it less than gracefully, he chokes on his water, which catches Derek and Y/N’s attention.

“You okay there, Spence?’ Derek asks, questioning what sent Spencer coughing and choking on water like that.

Spencer, not wanting Y/N or Derek, especially Derek, to read the card, attempts to put it in the front pocket of his lunch box. Unfortunately, Derek catches sight of the card and snatches it out of Spencer’s hand.

“Derek!” Spencer whines.

He can feel his embarrassment deepen as Morgan’s smile grows. Spencer seriously thinks that this is how he’s going to die. His death, being in his line of work, is something that plagues his thoughts from time to time, but any gory hero’s death pales in comparison to Derek Morgan reading Spencer’s love notes about his ass.

“Nice ass? I’m not too sure about this, Reid, but looks like your secret lover likes your ass just as much as your brains,” Derek teases, handing back Spencer his card.

“Those are private,” Spencer says, grateful that Derek’s going to leave him alone, places the card back in it’s temporary resting spot near his driver’s license and photographs of him and Y/N at the arcade.

“Hey man, I was just going to put in that shoe box you have tucked under your desk, you must have hundreds of them by now,” Derek says, taking a bite of his ham and cheese wrap. His eyes dash between Spencer and Y/N, like the pair of them is the most entertaining reality show he could think of.

“I have 645, now,” Spencer says, unable to help himself much to Derek’s amusement. Spencer hears the chair next to him screech and Y/N rushes to pack up her half eaten lunch.

“I completely forgot, Anderson needs me to uh, help him with something,” Y/N says, stuffing her water bottle into her lunch box in a flustered state. Spencer watches as she rushes, her need to leave the kitchenette quite evident. Spencer is left wondering why she has to go see Anderson, of all people.

“Anderson? What does he want with you? I don’t remember Hotch saying anything about that,” Spencer says, his voice comes off a little more bitter than he indented.

“Maybe Anderson has some extracurriculars that he needs Y/N’s help with Spencer,” Derek says with a wink. Spencer’s brow tightens and his blush deepens as if he’s trying to decipher the way that Derek’s voice is laced with suggestion. The only logical conclusion is that Y/N is flustered because she’s sneaking off to see Anderson, because she likes him.

Y/N likes Anderson? Something about that doesn’t taste right in Spencer’s mouth.

Like the wind, Y/N is gone and all that remains is Derek’s sly chuckle.

“What!” Spencer says, much too loud for him to continue the coy and unassuming demeanor he usually produces when Y/N gets hit on at the bar or on case by local cops.

“Nothing, Reid. You're just clueless. Just think about how many of those little compliment cards you’ve gotten,” Derek says. He reaches into Spencer’s lunch box and takes his brownie. Usually, Spencer would have protested, but Derek’s words sent him into a confused spiral.

“645,” Spencer responds.

“Okay,” Derek continues, “645 days you’ve gotten those cute little cards in your lunch box or taped to your hotel room door on cases. Now, Reid think. How many years, months, and days, is 645 days”

“That’s 2 years, 4 months, and 3 days,” Spencer starts, “now given if it’s a Leap Year that could change it a little bit bit-”

“Think about it Reid,” Derek says, talking slowly to get the words sink in and hoping that he doesn’t have to spell it out for him.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks, kind of like he can’t believe it, but desperately wants to believe it at the same time.

“Y/N,” Derek repeats, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long, Reid. She’s been making eyes at you the day she’s gotten here. It’s almost sickening to watch you to dance around each other,”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, it’s like he’s saying her name for the first time. It’s the most beautiful string of syllables to ever come from his lips.

Spencer pushes back the chair and swings the door open. As he walks to Y/N’s desk he gets distracted by the little brown shoe box that sticks out slightly from under his desk. He crouches down and picks it up, hoping that it can be helpful. He approaches Y/N’s desk, but JJ stops him before he can go closer.

“Stairwell,” Is all she says before she brushes past with an armful of case files. Spencer, heading JJ’s advice, practically runs to the stairwell. As he approaches he can hear quiet sobs, which he can only imagine are Y/N’s.

Spencer opens the door and Y/N, startled, stands up and tries to mop the tears away from her face.

“Spencer, oh god, I didn’t know you were here, I’m okay, it’s just me being a little silly,” she says, trying to laugh through what she can only assume is going to be rejection.

“I really hope you don’t think these are silly, well some are kind of silly, but others were very poetic,” Spencer says, taking a step forward and gesturing with the shoe box to make it obvious to Y/N that he’s talking about the compliment cards.

“What are you talking about, Spencer?” Y/N says, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You're much too smart to play dumb,” Spencer says, moving closer to Y/N so he can wipe her tear-stricken face with the sleeve of his soft cardigan. He tries not to focus on the way that Y/N seems to melt into his touch. He knows that if he can get another touch of that, he’ll never want to touch another person ever again.

“I’m not playing dumb, Spence. I just never planned for you to find out,” Y/N mumbles. Spencer’s face resembles a mix between shock and confusion.

“Why would you not tell me, I don’t think I made it anything but obvious that I’m crazy about you,” Spencer says, deeply wondering why Y/N would ever hide something like this from him.

“God Spencer, have you ever looked in a mirror?” Y/N asks him, sitting down on the third step, “you’re so gorgeous, Spencer, I can’t say anything to your face. So the next best thing was to write down everything that I wanted to say to you,” Y/N finishes, a little embarrassed. She tries to hide that embarrassment by not making eye contact with Spencer, who sits down next to her.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Spencer asks, not entirely sure that he heard her correctly.

Y/N peaks at him with teary eyes and a runny nose. Spencer thanks science and the universe for his Eidetic Memory. He knows that there won’t be a single day of his life that he won’t want to think back to this day and remember the way that Y/N looked when she first told him that she thinks he’s gorgeous.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen,” Y/N says breathily, her voice laced with restraint. She’s terrified of rejection, terrified that Spencer will turn her down still.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that,” Spencer says, equally as quiet and equally as terrified. He notices that Y/N’s hand creeps closer to his. Spencer is itching to intertwine it to his and never let go.

“You deserve to hear it more often, hence the cards,” Y/N explains, moving her hand even more closer to Spencer’s. He has no choice but to wrap his much larger one in Y/N’s smaller one.

“You meant it, right?” Spencer asks, bravely putting her heart out there on the line, “because if you did Y/N, that I’d really like to kiss you right now. But if you didn’t then that’s-”

Spencer tries to finish the sentence, to give Y/N an out, but somehow she doesn’t take it. Somehow she decides to kiss him.

Spencer has kissed a total of three people in his entire life, but none of them ever mattered again the second he feels Y/N’s lips against his and her hands in his hair. Spencer doesn’t complain when Y/N starts to set the pace. Her lips roam across his face. They venture across his jaw, up closer to his nose and then back down to his lips. Spencer had no clue Y/N can kiss like this. It's a little passionate for a first kiss, but maybe it's just the pent up tension and frustration 2 years in the making finally being let out. He's dreamt of the way that Y/N's pillowy lips would feel when they were finally pressed up against his. Spencer, from the fibers that make him up to the hormones that surge throughout his body, tries to be brave. He places his hands so they rest on Y/N’s neck. He’s not passive, but he’s happy to sit back and let Y/N have her way as she continues her feverish assault on his lips.

Her ministrations are interrupted, however, when the box of cards falls from Spencer’s lap. It seems to remind both of them that they are in the stairwell of the FBI making out like over zealous teenagers for the first time. Y/N lets out a small giggle. Spencer wishes he can write down the feeling it gives him and tuck it away safely in a shoe box.

“I hope you know that those compliments aren’t platonic, Spencer. I really do think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Y/N says, her fingers gravitating to the brown curls behind Spencer’s ears. He has the softest, silkiest hair she’s ever felt.

“That’s a good thing, Y/N, because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,”

Standing up, Y/N winks and pecks Spencer on the cheek, “I hate to break it to you, darling, but I think I win when it comes compliments,”

--Thank you for reading--

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#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader happy ending #criminal minds fanfiction

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jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA

It's curious.

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is.

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos.

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

And yes, you tried to slip by for this one.

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye.

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?"

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but—

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut.

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit."

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?"

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information.

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.”

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.”

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting.

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.”

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height.

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces.

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed."

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder.

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well.

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me."

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts.

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this?

This is too good.

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions."

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that."

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride.

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest.

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you."

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.”

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left.

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet.

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss.

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this.

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything.

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin.

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water.

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this?

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—”

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name.

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.”

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it.

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.”

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones.

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate.

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part.

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.”

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.”

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away.

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit.

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly—

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands.

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here.

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.”

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch.

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him.

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.”

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages.

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin.

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever.

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

#we out here #yeehaw #my writing #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #ct-7567 #captai rex #clone x reader #clone trooper x reader #the clone wars #tcw #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #sw

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emiewritesthings · 4 years ago

Text

doctor, doctor - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n takes it into her own hands to look after a sick jay

a/n: i’m not gonna lie i think this is one of my fav things i’ve ever written, i would really appreciate some feedback and p.s the beginning of it is based on that scene from brooklyn 99 :)

masterlist

“okay, it’s 10 o’clock, meaning halstead is officially an hour late to work,” y/n announced as she appeared from the break room with a mug of poorly made coffee. looking around, she had immediately distracted everyone in the room with her playful smile. “okay let’s do this, theories!” she encouraged, taking a sip with excitement, but immediately regretting it as s he spat it back in the mug and abandoned it on adam’s desk as she leant against it.

“uh, he forgot to set his alarm?” antonio suggested, willing to play along with the little game that y/n had created. however clearly his answer didn’t suffice as y/n scrunched up her nose and shook her head in disappointment.

“you are a detective in a unit that just last week rescued 5 people kidnapped and used as chess pieces in a human sized version of the game and the best you could come up with is he forgot to set his alarm? pfft, disappointing, dawson. who’s willing to take this seriously?” she scoffed, brushing his idea off with a simple roll of the eyes as the group laughed at her ridiculousness.

“maybe he has been murdered by a gang looking for revenge.” adam piped up, earning a sudden and rather forceful slap on the back as y/n cheered. her eyes looking over at antonio as she gestured towards the less experienced detective.

“yes, that’s what i’m talking about. bit dark, ruzek, but better than dawson’s,” y/n hummed, adam clearly pleased with the praise he had received by the pretty detective. “any one else wanna shot?” she offered it out into the room, suddenly the sound of rolling wheels on the chair had everyone turn to face al who was munching on a ham sandwich.

“he walked into the middle of a drug ring, slept with the kingpins daughter and is now having limbs removed, one by the hour.” suddenly an eery silence fell in the bullpen as al suddenly disappeared back to his desk and everyone was left with an image that she was sure was burned on the inside of everyones mind.

“uh, okay, someone might want to arrange a psych check for olinsky asap,” y/n mumbled, pointing in the direction where he had once been and looking around as if checking that she hadn’t been the only one to hear al’s suggestion. “anyways, all of you are wrong. clearly he has joined a motorbike gang and now makes his money on the road striking off names on the government’s hit list.”

just as the room erupted into discussion about how idiotic this conversation was, as well as their ideas, the sound of footsteps caught y/n’s attention as she arrived at her desk. however as he reached the floor, the reason for his absence was clear.

“woah, you look like death.” adam chuckled, it immediately being silenced as jay sent a deadly glare his way. with his skin paler than normal with undertones of green, a layer of sweat draped over his forehead. jay flashed as smile at y/n as he passed, reaching his desk and collapsing on his chair with a wince.

as everyone went back to what they were doing, y/n found herself straying her eyes away from her computer screen for longer and longer periods of time until she found herself by his side with a sickly sweet grin, pun intended.

“i don’t wanna hear it, y/l/n.” jay mumbled, massaging his temples with his fingers hoping it would somehow sooth his pounding skull. whilst usually he had every minute of his day just to hear the woman chat away about whatever crossed her mind, he had found himself in quite the state since last night, leaving him restless and irritable.

“believe it or not, i just wanted to make sure you were alright,” y/n’s entire demeanour crumbled as she melted at the soft features of his face that came with being so vulnerable. but from the look in jay’s eyes, it was clear he didn’t 100% believe her excuse. “and to ask what the hell you think you are doing here? you are sick jay, you need to rest.”

it was very rare that jay found himself ill. in the years that y/n had been working by the man’s side, she could count on one hand the times she had seen him with so much as a cough. in fact she had called him captain immune system for a period of time when she realised he was pretty much indestructible. y/n couldn’t deny the concern bubbling in her gut seeing him so weak.

“i’m fine,” with her eyes slitted in a look that practically shouted ‘bullshit’, jay continued. “i promise, it’s just a little cold. nothing serious, i think i’ll survive.” he joked dryly, finding it incredibly hard to look away from y/n for her eyes were filled with a warmth that he knew was an expression usually saved for those she cared deeply about.

“yeah well, you need to take care of yourself, jay, i’m being serious. chicago can cope if you just have one day off, get your energy back.”

y/n was reminded of the times she had the exact same words spoken to her by the exact person that didn’t seem to want to take them onboard. every time she had so much as a sniffle he would be straight over with some soup that his mother used to swear by and the name of a box set that he would put on for the two of them to watch as he sat stroking her hair in order to try and convince her body to rest. neither of them had anyone else to take care of them, so had taken it upon themselves to be that person for the other.

“now, i’m gonna go tell voight that i’m taking you home before you infect this whole office.” before he could object, she had already ran (not literally but jay was impressed by her speed walking) to her boss’ office. knocking on the door, with a sweet smile and a sea of words running off her tongue so quickly that voight had to agree just to shut her up, y/n returned by his side. “come on, germ face, your carriage awaits.”

“you know i love it when you talk dirty to me, y/l/n.” winking at her, y/n giggled as she supported him back down the stairs and out of the station. the two chatted away, y/n explaining how she thought al was secretly a sociopath and jay filing her in on the newest instalment of his apartment block drama until they pulled up in front of jay’s apartment building.

as they walked through the door, jay’s arm resting around y/n’s shoulders as he struggled to find strength, they managed to reach the sofa before y/n’s body gave up. both of them letting out large breathes before looking at each other and falling into laughter.

“you hungry, i could try making your mom’s soup?” y/n asked, as she pushed herself up to look down at the man. her hair falling down around her face and tickling jay’s skin. “i’m sure it won’t be as good as her’s but i’m willing to give it a try.”

the way she was sat with the large window gleaming light behind her, y/n almost looked like an angel. her eyes and smile were wide, with her beauty wrapping its hands around jay’s neck squeezing until his head felt light and he nearly reached up to touch her porcelain skin. but jay had noticed the sensation way before he was blocked up with a cold.

“yeah, uh, that sounds nice.” jay agreed with a minimal amount of sass, but y/n didn’t seem to notice as she moved off the cushions and towards the kitchen. she had pretty much memorised the recipe when jay had finally given it to her on her birthday after offering to pay for it multiple times. whizzing around the kitchen, she was too busy to notice the tired eyes admiring her from afar.

jay wished his mom was alive to see the woman that she would have loved. all the times he had brought girls back to his family when he was younger didn’t add up to an ounce of the beauty and power that y/n held in her middle finger. the way she bit back at his wit, but also had the ability to spot when he was upset from the other side of the city. she was everything her mother wanted in a daughter in law, everything she wanted for her little boy.

“okay, give me your honest opinion. i can take it i promise.” y/n sudden appeared with a tray that held a large bowl of the semi-thick orange liquid, a glass of water and a couple pills. approaching jay, she carefully helped him up from where he laid and placed it onto his lap. “actually that was a complete lie, do not tell me the truth. i may just cry.”

“why thank you, nurse y/l/n.” he teased.

“it’s doctor actually.” she quipped back.

jay chuckled lowly, as he grabbed the spoon and took a large spoonful to his mouth. feeling the slight sting of his tongue at the heat, it was only when the flavours hit that he was suddenly transported to an earlier time in his life. a simpler time. only this time there was y/n by his side.

“the verdict?” she prompted, taking a seat besides him, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“not sure whether i want to tell you, don’t think you’ll fit in this room if your ego grows any bigger.” y/n grinned as she leaned over to press a kiss against his shoulder. jay closed his eyes at the contact, feeling the ache in his body freeze for a moment as it registered the tingling sensation. “all jokes aside, it really is good.”

“i’m glad, your mother was a smart woman.” she nodded, leaning forward to turn tv on. jay continued to spoon the soup into his mouth, as y/n chose a show that they both had started together and had refused to watch another minute without the other. y/n leaned back making herself comfortable, having already texted voight telling him that she would most likely need the entire day off, and getting the go ahead, she had no plans other than being by jay’s side for the next however many hours.

it was sometime in the early evening and the tv continued to emit light, but neither jay nor y/n was paying any attention to the drama. jay, with his head on y/n lap, was leaning into her touch as her short, thin fingers ran through the dark strands that sprouted from his scalp. his body wrapped in a blanket that y/n had grabbed from his room, he felt completely at peace.

“you know what, i think you are more bearable when you are at death’s door.” y/n joked quietly, as the forest green eyes were exposed back to her own. jay groaned in annoyance, realising that there was no sweet y/n without the sharped tongue y/n. a trait he adored, but at his own expense.

“and to think i was starting to think you had gone soft on me, y/l/n.” he hummed, wishing he could forever have her giggle on repeat wherever he went, for the sound made goosebumps run down his neck and down his arms, like some kind of magic that only y/n possessed.

“as much as i love you, i can’t risk my bad ass reputation for you.”

although jay was sure it was just part of her banter, the moment the ‘i love you’ fell off her tongue, he found himself wide awake, unable to push past the feeling in his gut as it looped over again and again in his mind. y/n could see the conflict in his face, as he glanced up at her with something she had never noticed before.

“you mean it?” he asked.

“mean what?” confused, her fingers fell from his hair, making jay regret ever opening his mouth.

“do you really, you know, love me?” he knew he had committed too far to try and retreat. maybe he could blame it on the fact he couldn’t think straight, although she was like a lie detector that wouldn’t let such a bogus excuse pass. y/n blinked down at him, watching as he sat up to look at her with a hunger that needed to be addressed. swallowing the lump in her throat, y/n nodded.

“of course, you are one of my best friends, jay.” it was true, but it wasn’t the full truth, both of them knew that.

“i didn’t realise we had started lying to one another,” jay’s eyes were soft, as he reached to place his hand against her cheek, smiling as she slowly leaned into it. closing her eyes, she tried to find what direction she was looking for, but didn’t dare take the first step. without even thinking, jay jutted forward and captured her lips before they could form a single syllable.

gently, but passionately, jay and y/n moved their lips against the others. the feeling was ever-growing as the kiss deepened and deepened until they had no choice to pull back, deprived of their ability to breath. as jay’s eyes came back into view, y/n, for the first time in her life, had lost the ability to form a sentence.

“we just...” she began but it ran off quickly. jay chuckled.

“we did.”

the two sat in silence, examining the other one’s face until y/n found herself moving forward until she was sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as she pressed her lips against his. just like before their bodies and minds were set ablaze with desire and what had remained unspoken for what felt like forever. jay had nearly completely forgotten about the illness that had put him in the care of the woman that he craved more than anything else the world had to offer.

as their lips parted ways, suddenly the air had thinned and everything felt... normal. jay’s lips were unable to break out of the large grin mould that y/n had put them in, which was soon mirrored by the young woman. a small giggle escaping her lips.

“if i get whatever it is you have, i expect the exact same treatment.”

“only for you, doctor y/l/n.”

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years ago

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Hot Girl Summer

Summary: Dean and the reader are enjoying a day at the beach when Dean notices the reader is still dressed on the scorching hot summer day...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Positive Body Image

Word Count: 1,300ish

Warnings: language, body insecurities

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story bingo!

______

“How are you not boiling?” asked Dean. He was seated next to you in his lawn chair on the lake shore beach. Shirt off, swim trunks pushed up some, sweat covering his face behind his sunglasses and baseball cap. He grabbed his beer from the cooler between you, chugging it down. “Want to dip in the water to cool off for a minute?”

“Go ahead. I gotta run to the bathroom,” you said.

“Pee in the lake.”

“Dean.”

“I’ve already peed in the lake today.”

“Oh my God.”

“You think none of those other people out in the water have peed in it? At least half of them, I guarantee it.”

“Dean. You’re being gross.”

“At least I’m not being silly.”

“About wanting to use a hygienic bathroom?”

“First off, it’s a county park bathroom. Taking a piss in the parking lot would be more hygienic. Second, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” You narrowed your eyes behind your sunglasses, Dean reaching a hand over, resting it on your t-shirt. “Would you take off your shirt and shorts and go swimming with me? Please?”

“There are people here,” you said quietly.

“Sweetheart.”

“I don’t look like that,” you said, nodding at the woman that stood from her chair nearby and started to walk into the water, wearing a tiny red bikini.

“I’d be concerned if you did. I might think you were a shifter or something.”

“Dean.”

“Y/N. Do I have six pack abs?” he asked, poking his stomach.

“You’re normal and muscular. Your thighs are smaller than mine.”

“Your arms are smaller than mine,” he said. You rolled your eyes, Dean sliding his hand down to yours. “Your hands are smaller than mine. Why does it matter about being smaller?”

“Because that’s what’s pretty and I don’t want people looking at me all day.”

“Because you haven’t been obsessively staring at every single woman on this beach all morning yourself. Whether they’re a size zero or twenty, you’ve stared at every single one and they’ve stared at you already. They’re already looking so why give a fuck?”

“It’s just...some days I think I look great and others I don’t and today is one of those ones where I don’t. I just don’t want someone staring at my stomach or hips or thighs or boobs or whatever and saying stuff. It’s always...it’s always the clothes look good on the model or the bikini looks good on the mannequin when I buy it and then I just…”

Dean squeezed your hand before resting it on your thigh.

“You don’t have to convince me of anything sweetheart. I know what I see in you. I know what I see and what I love. I know I can’t tell you how attractive I find you and suddenly you’ll feel that way about yourself. I don’t like me sometimes. Most of the time. But I get shoved in my face how to be a man more than what I should look like so I don’t think I’ll ever know to the extent women get it. I just want to go swimming with my girl and have some fun today, not solve both our body insecurities in one discussion. If you want to wear your shirt and shorts that’s okay. I’d like it if we could just have fun today and not sit here baking in the sun fretting the whole day.”

“Me too,” you said quietly. You took off your sunglasses, Dean ditching his and his hat on top of the cooler. “Let me put some more sunscreen on your shoulders first.”

You grabbed the bottle and squirted some of the cool liquid on his back, Dean humming as you rubbed it in.

“Your freckles have really come out today already,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to play your counting game tonight,” he chuckled. You wiped the excess down his back and arms, Dean standing as you set the bottle down. He held out a hand for yours but you looked down at yourself instead.

Two hours you’d already spent spinning your wheels, nitpicking your body, wondering why you couldn’t fit in smaller shorts. Wondering why you took up more space than you thought you should. You looked to the right, a woman in a white bandeau top and floral high waisted cheeky bottoms. She looked about your height, your size. But she had a big smile on her face, looked so fucking good and pretty. The guy she was with wasn’t hiding the fact of how he was openly taking her in, a big smirk on his face. The girl seated a ways back in a different group of people wasn’t hiding it either.

“Would you put some more on me?” you asked, glancing at the bottle.

“Sure,” said Dean. You pushed down your shorts as he picked it up, kicking them off and leaving them on your chair. Your shirt came off next and you adjusted your bottoms some as Dean squirted the sunscreen into his hand. “Let me get your chest so you don’t burn.”

“Don’t try to cop a feel,” you teased, hating how it sounded a little forced.

“Don’t tempt me,” he chuckled. You looked past him as he made sure to get the newly uncovered spots, Dean’s lips brushing your ear after a moment. “Okay?”

“I’m okay. Let’s go cool off, Dean.”

“That’s a cute shirt,” said Dean late that night as you were out to dinner at a place near the lake and your cabin you were renting. He took a bite of his chicken sandwich and hummed. “Is it new?”

“Bought it awhile ago,” you said. It was a tube top with a bottom that flowed out at the hips and had a cutout in the back, showing off more skin than you normally were comfortable with.

“I like it,” he said, letting out a quiet burp. “Wanna get this ice cream thing for dessert? It’s still pretty warm out.”

“Sure,” you said, surprised to see a dirty glare cross Dean’s face. You spun around when you saw he was looking behind you. Two guys were leaving the bar area for a table, both of them staring at what you guessed was your back. You sighed, Dean grumbling to himself. “Dean. Let it go.”

“You’re not meat,” he mumbled.

“Huh?”

“The tall one’s been checking you out from the second he got in.” Dean leaned over and kissed you, shooting the guy a warning glance.

“I think he got the message,” you said.

“Better have,” he mumbled. “See? The only the one that hasn’t thought you were hot this whole time is you.”

“Well...maybe I don’t think I’m hot but maybe I’ll be less nervous to show some skin, wear what I want to wear.”

“You’re still gonna wear my shirts though right?”

“Obviously.”

“Good cause that shit is extra hot. Like you in that dark henley and those shorts fucks me up in a good way.”

“I could just wear nothing at all?” you teased. He grinned, leaning closer across the table. “That’ll be second dessert.”

“Yes it will,” he hummed. He pecked a quick kiss to your lips, slipping back into his seat. “Have fun today?”

“A lot of fun,” you said. “After I got out of my head.”

“Good,” he said quietly. You reached over the table and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Dessert?”

“Let’s make it to go,” you said. “Save it for after your other dessert.”

“Sounds perfect to me sweetheart.”

_________

#tell me a story bingo #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #dean fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester x

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years ago

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Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst writing #twst fanfic #fanfic: courtship #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #x reader

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gummy-friend · 4 years ago

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35 with bench trio maybe? :3 Your pick of who's what size.

Thank you so much for the ask, this was a very relaxing one to make ✌:D

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"Did they fall asleep on your hand?"

With Tiny Tommy, Tiny Tubbo, and Human Ranboo.

Content Warning: Language :D

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The light breeze washed over Ranboo, Tommy, and Tubbo as they ran around the field.

It's a nice day.

It was a summer they lived in when Tommy and Tubbo got founded by Ranboo— who thought he was living alone at the time— after they ate a poisonous potato. Ranboo nursed them to healing, and eventually, they lived together in a no-longer lonely house in the forest.

"Woohoo!" Tommy shouted while running around in the grass, the clear weather made him more visible for Ranboo to not be worrying about not being able to see the two borrowers in the grass.

Tubbo joined in on Tommy running around, carrying an apple he got(stole) from Ranboo's house as a toy. When asked, he said "Ranboo, you'll peel the apple before sharing it, right?" and continued rolling it.

It's a nice day.

Another slow breeze washed over them as they're now playing beside a big tree— Ranboo said to not play in the shade, for he worry he cannot see the two borrowers in the shade— Tommy and Tubbo rolled around the grass on the bright sunshine, and Ranboo blew bubbles. The soap-made shape dancing around in the slow breeze before eventually popping into a small rain— but before that happens, there are already more of them being made.

The three of them has been planning this for quite a few days after summer rolled around.

"Please, Big man, if the sun is bright enough, you can see us clearly in the sun! Me and Tommy has tested it—"

"You went outside??? Tubbo, you do realize it's dangerous, right?"

"Not the point there— but it'll be nice, trust us on this!"

"Yeah!"

Was a conversation (or a one-sided argument, really. Tubbo and Tommy understood their friend too well for him to not be able to decline requests like this) they had one day. It was sundown when they had the conversation— hence the worry practically radiating from Ranboo. But a quick "C'mon, Ranboo, don't be a pussy" from Tommy and and a "We'll be okay, promise!" from Tubbo, made Ranboo took a quick sigh and agreed.

"C'mon Ranboo, your turn! Try finding us!" Tommy's shout quickly brought Ranboo back from his flashback. Right. They were playing hide and seek (The shade is still not allowed for the borrowers) and this time, Ranboo is the seeker.

It's a count to twenty.

"One.." Ranboo counted. Closing his eyes and facing towards the bark of the tree.

"Two.." Ranboo heard grass around him shuffled. Maybe it was the breeze, maybe it was the borrowers running around. Either way, Ranboo smiled fondly at the thought.

"Three.." a strong breeze picks up. Ranboo heard a small "Tommy—!" shout from Tubbo. Oh no, did Tommy got picked up by the wind?

"Four.." Ranboo heard a "What the fuck" followed by a "There you are" From Tommy and Tubbo simultaneously. They're fine

"Five.." A small laugh in Ranboo's voice, picturing the image of Tommy being swept by the wind. "That fucker is laughing at me, I knew it" a small grumble from Tommy. Ranboo didn't hear the sentence, but he heard the annoyed tone in that. Another laugh laced in Ranboo's words as he continued counting.

By fourteen, The small conversation between Tommy and Tubbo has stopped

And by eighteen, The shuffling sound of the grass from the borrower's movement has stopped,

And by twenty, everything is silent.

Ranboo turned around from his position, eyes no longer being shut by his arm— he took a few seconds to adjust his eyes to the bright sunshine, though— and he sees a bright green field. The sun is shining brightly above him (and the tree) and that's why he can see red quickly.

"Tommy, found you" Ranboo called out, walking towards Tommy. Who was laying face-down, trying to blend in with the grass.

Smiling at the sight, Ranboo poked the borrower. Earning an ear-hurting screech from the startled borrower.

"You fucking cheated, didn't you?!" Tommy accused after the screech. Pointing his finger to the human.

"I did not!" Ranboo refuted, holding up his hand "You should consider not wearing red in the middle of a green field, next time"

"You still fucking cheated" Tommy grumbled, while walking begrudgingly walking to Ranboo's open hand, ready to be stuffed in his pocket.

In all honesty, it's hot inside Ranboo's pocket. But if remembering how hot it is if Ranboo is wearing his normal suit, maybe it's bearable. The madman still chose the black suit aesthetic even in the heat of the summer, that's why he wore a thinner black suit, calling it "Summer suit" (which is a fucking stupid name, in Tommy's opinion, but it's not his suit). He and Tubbo tried talking about that with him one day, fortunately, Ranboo seems a bit interested in those hawaiian wear— it's a lot less warm in that clothing, at least.

When Tommy tuned back to the present, Ranboo has already found Tubbo.

"Why are you hiding inside a rock?!" Ranboo cried out. Apparently, Tubbo was hiding inside a hole of a large rock— much to Ranboo's relief and worry "When did you found out this hiding spot?"

"I know a lot of things, bossman" Tubbo smirked. Hopping to Ranboo's hand, about to be placed in the pocket beside Tommy's one. "By the way, did you saw my apple? I think it got rolled away by the wind earlier"

"I'll just take more from the house. It's probably dirty anyway" Ranboo sighed, walking towards his house.

It's an old house, and he lived there alone from when he found this house. According to Tommy, he and Tubbo had lived there before Ranboo 'barged in and inserted himself to their life'— Ranboo was originally about to be adopted by a nice man with two sons, but Ranboo declined. Ranboo thinks having two sons is probably already too much for the man, he shouldn't take an orphan from the streets just because the orphan has no home— and fortunately, the orphan has found a house in the edge of the forest. With a "Now I have a house, so you don't have to worry", The orphan made the nice man gave up with a "I'll send foods periodically. Eat well, okay?" and a nod.

The orphan was Ranboo, and Ranboo's house became a home now. A place where the heart is. He's glad he lived in this house— Being able to meet Tommy and Tubbo.

And as of now, Ranboo is currently getting Tubbo, Tommy, and himself various fruits and two sandwiches (he figured a sandwich is enough for Tommy and Tubbo to eat), and went back to the shade beneath the tree.

"Here, the food is ready" Ranboo said, placing down three plates— each one of them contains a piece of sandwich and fruits (He did peel the apple)— much to the borrowers delight.

It's a nice day. They talked about various of things, funny stories about how Ranboo got lost in the forest, about how Tubbo found the hole in the rock, about how Tommy managed to befriend a moth one time.

It's a nice day. Slow breeze blew softly with them and bright sun being blocked by a tree. Plus, the rustling of the grass and leaves made a relaxing sound. Not to mention Ranboo's soft hand beneath Tommy and Tubbo— acting as a cushion for them to sleep on.

It's a nice day to doze off on a summer day like this.

Ranboo was about to sleep as well, looking at the sleeping figures in his hand. But before he could, he heard footsteps from wooden sandals.

The orphan met a nice man, and the nice man is standing in front of the orphan right now.

"Hey, Phil" Ranboo greets sleepily, the rustling sounds of leaves is so relaxing.

"Hey mate" Phil answered, taking a seat in front of Ranboo. "I was dropping off this harvest season's food, and was wondering why you weren't home" he smiled at the sight— The edge of the forest is a good place for Ranboo to live in, there's no one to bother him on days like these "Did they fell asleep on your hand?"

Ranboo looked towards where Phil is gesturing, and gave a "Yeah, we were having a picnic or some sorts" laced with a yawn.

"Good for you, mate" Phil stood up, giving Ranboo a little pat "You have fun, I'm going home— don't sleep too long out here, alright?"

"Okay, Phil"

After that, Ranboo felt a quick wind alongside the sound of wings flapping. And with a yawn, Ranboo closed his eyes.

It's a nice day.

—————

Again, Thank you so much for the prompt!! :DD

The dialogue prompt is from here. Do give me a prompt! :D

Masterlist (If you're interested in my other writings)

#mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #g!ranboo #t!tommy #t!tubbo #g!philza #prompt ask #anon ask #amacawrites

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eloquent-vowel · 4 years ago

Text

Part 5 "Comfortable" Bucky X OFC (#043)

Description: A series of attacks on Russian diplomats lead to Fury dispatching some members of the avengers to defend them. There they meet a very new threat- one they have never seen before.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, very much a slow burn. Bucky Barnes x OFC, Winter Soldier X OFC

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Thank you all for reading this far! Here is a little time skip for you and the first time some of the Avengers meet Eris. Time is probably going to be very disjointed after this part! <3

Part 4

Bruce stared out of the Avenger's tower window, New York looked so small from up here. Looking down everyone seemed so unimportant, there were hundreds of people walking to the same place they always did, dressed in the same clothes they always wore. Were they happy with their lives? Were they living their dreams? What did they regret?

"See anything interesting Doc?" Tony's voice broke Bruce's trance. "Seen any muggings? Street fights? You know, I once saw a pigeon fly down and steal someone's sandwich right from their hand, the whole thing." Tony came into view, two cups of coffee in his hands. His eyes sparkled with the usual joy but under it all there was the slightest hint of concern.

Bruce took the offered coffee cup. "Buff pigeon."

"Perhaps it was a tiny pigeon hulk."

Bruce huffed a laugh before sipping is coffee. "The Incredible Squawk?" Despite Bruce's attempt at humour his voice came out as bitter as his coffee. Bruce watched the steam slowly rise before letting out a broken sigh. "She would have been 24 today."

Tony placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder, there was silence for a while. He had to think about what to say next, "We'll find her, Bruce. We won't stop looking I can pro-"

"Tony." Bruce turned to face Tony, the bags under his eyes were deeper than usual. "Thank you for trying to cheer me up but, let's be realistic, its been 20 years. The truth is either she doesn't want to be found or never will be."

"You are aloud to be realistic, Bruce, but don't lose hope."

The two shared an understanding stare, Bruce looked like he was going to say something but was interrupted by Natasha entering the room.

"We have a problem."

"When do we not?"

"Funny, Tony." Nat approached the two of them, she was staring down at the tablet in her hand very intently, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "A Russian diplomat was murdered at his safe house last week."

"And this concerns us how." Tony's tone was flippant.

"Because he as an informant for Shield but before he could talk he was beaten so badly they had to use dental records to confirm his identity."

Nat handed over the tablet to Tony who flicked through the photos of the crime scene. It was brutal. The guards that were put in to defend the diplomat were beaten to death, violently. It was obvious, even to his untrained eye, that whoever did this used their fists and no other weapon. Most of the guards had dents in their temples and some had broken knees. The path of the killer was followed by a nice trail of beaten corpses. Until they lead to the bedroom of the diplomat. Just like the other corpses, his body was beaten with blunt objects but unlike the others the killer really wanted to make sure he was dead. There was practically no skull that remains intact and there was blood everywhere. Tony blanched a bit and returned the tablet to Nat.

"What exactly do you want us to do? Bring a guy back from the dead?"

"No." Nat sounded tired, stressed, Tony kicked himself slightly for not being able to be serious. "We are being tasked for protecting someone we strongly suspect to being a second target." She turned the tablet around to show another angry looking man.

"Who pissed in his cornflakes?"

Nat ignored Tony. "This is Panin Rostislavovich, Russian ambassador here in America and more importantly mole for Shield. We think there is a large possibility he will be attacked at some point this week. Fury has asked that we personally see to guarding him. Something about improving relations with Russia."

"So, we sit in a room with someone and get paid for it?"

Nat just raised her eyebrow.

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"Getting comfortable there, Mr. Rostislavovich?"

Tony quipped to the stern man who was currently pacing violently up and down the length of the room. Normally he wouldn't have commented on it but his footfalls were terribly annoying and Tony was nursing one hell of a hangover.

"Would you be comfortable in this situation? Would you Mr. Stark." Tony fought the urge to roll his eyes. "When your colleague has been beaten to death in his apparently 100% secure and safe house!"

"Panin, buddy, listen- we are just here on a hunch no one said for certain that they were after you."

Tony made eye contact with Natasha and Steve who were standing guard by the door. They both shook their heads, no signs of intrusion at the moment. They were in direct contact with the guards outside the house and inside of the house, if Tony said so himself, this place seemed pretty impenetrable.

"Team Delta. Team Delta, report."

Him and his big mouth,

Nat's voice was panicked as she began to check in with all the teams around the perimeter of the house. She got more and more intense with each team name.

"No one on the perimeter is responding. Tony get him to the safe room, be ready to take the back exit."

"You don't have to tell me twice, come on buddy, let's not get you killed."

With that the escorted Panin to the solid metal safe room leaving Steve and Nat to do what they did best, beat people up.

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Natasha turned to Steve, he looked calm but the tight grip he had on his shield gave him away. The sound of fighting and violence started to be heard through the door.

"Hide and we get the jump on them." Nat whispered as she ducked behind one of the large sofas, Steve look up place adjacent to her. She began to count her bullets, double checking that she had enough ammunition.

There was silence for a moment.

Then a massive crash as the door flew off its hinges and into the wall behind Steve. She couldn't help the slight gasp that she let out as Steve slowly moved away from the rubble.

"I can hear you." A female voice, gravelly and harsh spoke in perfect Russian. It sent shivers down Nat's spine, Steve looked at her questionably. She just gritted her teeth and shot at the doorframe. She watched as Steve leapt out once she ran out of bullets. She reloaded as quickly as possible to cover Steve, as soon as she aimed her pistol over the couch she was stunned into inaction.

She could hardly keep track of who was hitting who as Steve fought the intruder. It was evident that this person was the same as Steve, they were a super soldier. Nat tried to find a pattern in their movements, an opening to fire a shot but every move they made was unexpected and chaotic. They were covered almost head to toe in black tactical gear, the only exception being their legs that reflected in the low lights of the room, metal legs? Whatever they were made of their legs were definitely strong as one well placed kick threw Steve back against the wall to joint the door.

Nat didn't hesitate to engage. Vaulting over the couch and throwing her gun by the window, she went immediately for a choke hold, swinging her legs over the other woman's neck. Nat felt some sort of pride as she succeeded to bring the intruder down to the floor, she squeezed tightly in an effort to choke them. Until the glint of metal over the intruder's fists slammed right into the back of Nat's knee, it didn't quite dislocate as intended but the force was enough to let the intruder get free.

The two women stood up once more and took a moment to size each other up. Nat realised that this woman was as tall as Steve and looked as strong. The bottom half of her face was covered in a protective mask and her hair was wild, perhaps from a previous scuffle? Now that Natasha had a good look she realised that both of the woman's legs were made of a shining metal, they whirred and clicked as she stood up. She glanced at Steve who was just beginning to stand up, clutching his ribs- the two exchanged a quick nod and together began to try and take down this new threat.

Unfortunately it was not as easy as either of them thought. Their opponent was brutal, unpredictable and yet seemed to predict every move they made. Steve would attack from behind and she was sidestep, only to throw a devastating punch at her. It was down right terrifying that one woman was able to take on both Steve and herself at once. Even worse was that this woman didn't seem to tire, while Steve and the woman were able to breathe normally Nat was beginning to falter. The intruder saw this and with one well timed switch kick Nat saw stars as a metallic leg collided with her temple.

Steve watched in horror as Nat fell, his opponent showed no sense of regret and did not hesitate to begin her brutal assault on him once more. Thrown by Natasha bleeding from the head it didn't take long for the woman to have her arms around his neck in a less than friendly way. Black spots danced in his vision, he thought this was it. He began to run through ways to get out of this but every time he struggled the edge of the brass knuckles dug deeper into his throat.

He thought he was gone until he felt her shift slightly and then let go of him altogether. He fell on the floor gasping and turned to see where the woman had gone. He saw her pick up Natasha's pistol and making a running leap out of the window. Shattering the glass into a hailstorm of chaos.

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Tony had little warning other than the sound of glass shattering and the violent bang of a gunshot. The man who he had previously been talking to about his plans for the future fell to the ground, a bullet hole directly through the centre of his brain.

Tony turned around violently to just catch the sight of some meta glinting under streetlights and a figure darting off into the dark.

Fury was going to be so mad at him.

Part 6

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