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syoddeye · 3 days ago

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the gift that keeps on giving - part three/final, nikolai

Every year, on each of their birthdays, you're delivered with a bottle of Scotch. Shared. Savored. Spoiled.

cw: established relationship, everything is consensual, reader is shared between price+nik+kate, alcohol, pet names, nik calling himself 'old man', piv, mild scent/armpit kink, rimming, overstim

a/n: AO3. series page.

The door groans as Nikolai shoulders it open, the cold clinging like a second skin.

Snow dusts his boots, melting in thin streams into dark puddles on the wooden floor. Sweat cools beneath his clothes, seeping into the fabric of his coat. His breath clouds in the cabin’s warmth as he steps inside, dropping the firewood beside the stove with a heavy thud. He rolls his shoulders, the lingering bite of winter settled deep in his bones. Shedding his outer layers, he cracks his neck from side to side, drawing in a deep breath.

The cabin is simple—rustic, as John would put it. Remote. Tucked even further away than the hangar, well within in fuck off territory. A lonely place for a birthday.

Which makes it perfect.

For as long as he can remember, his birthday has always been just another day. So what if it marks the anniversary of him arriving in the world, red-faced and screaming? People are born. People die. It’s not an achievement. It isn’t special. He is nothing special.

She is.

Even if she is…less than pleased with their lodgings.

She sits wrapped in a thick blanket by the fireplace, face pinched in unmistakable displeasure. Legs tucked beneath her, lower lip pushed into a scowl, fingers drumming irritably.

Nikolai exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he unlaces his boots. “What is this face?” he muses, glancing at her. “You have not moved a muscle, have you?”

She glares. “I’m conserving heat. Important when you’re trapped in the wilderness against your will.”

“Mm.” He hums thoughtfully, peeling off his gloves. “Sitting indoors, by a fire, wrapped in a blanket. Yes, very tragic for you.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“Am I?”

She huffs, pulling the blanket tighter. “When are we going to do something fun?”

He raises a brow. “Not enjoying yourself?”

She fixes him with a flat look. “I enjoy heat, comfort, and WiFi. None of which exist in this godforsaken place. That hotel I recommended on the other hand…”

Nikolai tsks, stepping closer. “You are soft, tsarevna.”

“I have standards.”

He smirks. “Yes. High standards, yet still, you are here. With me. On my birthday.” Just another day, but a useful tool in his belt. “I seem to recall you said you would give this place a shot. Work on that bad attitude of yours.”

She shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “I can’t help that I’m meant for finer things. I still don’t understand why we couldn’t go somewhere warm and hospitable,” she gripes. “In Naxos, Kate and I sunbathed for hours.”

“Ah, darling.” He clicks his tongue. “You know I don’t like complaining.”

“I’m only saying, if we went through with Thoddo, or Krk—”

Nik laughs. She’s trying to push his buttons. Has to be.

John warned him about this, about scooping her up and stealing away here. Said she wouldn’t like it. Said their little indoor cat of a woman would sulk. That she’d become spoiled. A playful jab at the time, but now, Nik’s not so sure.

It doesn’t usually fall to him, the wrangling, but she usually does not test him so much. He plays rough with her, but never from a place of correction.

That may have to change. A new year, new role, perhaps.

He moves suddenly, crossing the room in a handful of strides. Her mouth falls open to argue, maybe to apologize, but his mind’s made up. Prissy thing needs a lesson.

Faster than she can react, he seizes her wrist and hauls her up, dragging her to her feet. She stumbles into him, yelping, palms splaying over his chest.

“Nikolai!”

His grin widens, wicked and full of mischief. He reaches down, grabs the hem of his damp thermal, and yanks it up—then in one smooth motion, tugs it over her head, trapping her face against his clammy skin.

Her muffled shriek is instant. “YOU ANIMAL!”

Nikolai chuckles, locking her in place with one arm around her waist. “Breathe deep,” he deadpans. “This is the scent of hard work. Of man.”

She thrashes hard, but he doesn’t budge. “Let me go!”

“Shhh.” He rubs a slow, patronizing hand over her back. “You will learn to appreciate it.”

She makes a strangled noise of absolute outrage, trying to wrench free, but he keeps her snug against him, her face buried in the coarse hair and sticky sweat of his chest.

“Nik, I swear to God—”

Finally, he lets go, stepping back as she stumbles, gasping for air like she’s survived an assassination attempt.

She wipes her face furiously, murderous. “You’re disgusting.”

Nikolai only pats her cheek, still grinning. “But you are warm now, no? Maybe vigorous activity is in order.”

She glares, but he snatches her wrist and tugs, slingshotting her toward the washroom. She stumbles, catching herself as he lands a smack to her rear, herding her into the washroom.

The claws come out when he strips her, but she doesn’t use her words once—beyond cursing him out.

“Perverted old man,” She hisses as he pushes his nose into her bunched-up panties.

“Unlike you, I like it sweaty. Adds flavor.” he laughs, nudging her under the water.

The hot water here lasts, at best, ten minutes. So after she sees to herself, he puts her to work, scrubbing soap into his back and chest, raking her nails through the thick whorls of hair. When he lifts his arms, she grimaces, suddenly face to face with the dense fur of his armpits.

He pictures doing it again, pressing her face into the hair to hear her shriek. Instead, he pulls her into a kiss, water slipping between their locked lips. Mercy to keep her on her toes.

He kisses her deeply, savoring until he’s certain he’s planted stars in her eyes. She doesn’t resist when he motions for her to continue. He sighs in contentment, eyes shutting, even as the water turns tepid. The warmth of his own skin is enough, as are the palms massaging his belly and thighs. Nothing’s left untouched despite her grousing. Sour mood or not, she knows what’s expected.

A hand wraps around his length, pulling a grunt from him.

He was wondering when she’d get to that.

Nik cracks his eyes to find her watching, drenched, her mouth curled into a small crooked smile.

There she is.

Perhaps someone’s feeling more like herself.

He plants his hands on the tile behind her, caging her in. A thin stream of water trickles from his chin, landing on her shoulder and sliding down the curve of her chest. His breath ghosts over her ear, a quiet huff of amusement. In response, she firms up her grip, the water making her strokes smooth and fluid.

It’s always better than the time before. Even just her hands, warm and slightly pruny, are heaven. He’s used to working with men who throw themselves out of helicopters, tear down walls, and kill with their bare hands. To John’s impatient, squeezing fist and borderline cruel efficiency. And while she’s not gentle with him, her grip tight and her rhythm insistent, he craves it all the same.

She buries her face against him willingly this time, lips trailing over muscle and coarse hair, his gold chain. She finds places to bite, to suck, a little leech in every sense. It’s forgivable. What they have is a mutual parasitism, after all. Everyone in their covenant gets something in return.

For a long time, he thought it was just the carnal aspects—something to spice up his and John’s relationship, keep them company. But now, well into their arrangement, with years of traditions and ritual, he knows it’s more than that.

After all, what better way to make a man feel twenty years younger than having a pretty, stubborn girl worship him?

Nik returns the affection, brushing his lips over her temple, murmuring praise, savoring. He bucks occasionally, breaking low assurances with curses he’s taught her. She swipes her thumb over the head of his cock, and he nips the shell of her ear, a quiet growl escaping him.

“Trying to make me shoot early, darling?”

She bites a nipple. Hard. Speaks with it between her teeth. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Kolya.”

Spiteful hellcat.

His skin’s on fire despite the shower. He may not be on the ground to the same extent as John, but he prides himself on his stamina, which wanes quicker than he likes nowadays. He won’t waste his cum.

He’s an old man now. He’s not eager to test how quickly he can rally.

“Let go.” He straightens, running his tongue over his lip. He gestures with his head, curtly ordering, “Turn around.”

She hesitates. He sees it in the slight shift of her weight, ready to take to whatever she imagines he has planned. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, still convinced that the real punishment is coming.

Surely, a shower can’t be it? That’s what she’s thinking—plain as day.

Her brows pinch, lips parting to speak only to shut, thinking better of it. She’s rarely nervous with him, or any of them, which makes her poker face exceedingly unpracticed.

She does as asked, steadying herself against the wall.

Nikolai admires the view. The curve of her spine, her skin. The pleasing heat pooled at the bottom of his stomach hurts, internally grumbling at the restraint.

He kneels with a grunt, the dull ache in his lower back and shoulders a lingering reminder of his labors. Worth it for this.

He meets her gaze as she peeks over her shoulder. Pressed to the wall, braced on her forearms, she’s drawn inward, legs closed. That won’t do. He fixes her stance with a pat on each inner ankle. Positions her how he wants her. Bent forward, ass out. One arm cushioning her head, the other—

“Hold a cheek, that’s it.”

Like this, there’s nothing to hide. Water splashes off her mid-back, streaming down in rivers, sluicing over her skin and down her crack. It catches and rolls off every crevice, admixing with the drip between her legs.

If he drowns, he drowns.

One hand grips the back of her knee, the other anchoring to her upper thigh. Then, without hesitation, he gets to work.

The first drag is light. A chance to savor the cherry-like taste of soap mixing with the sweet tang of her cunt. He groans against her hole, nose digging into a cheek, water diverting around the bridge. He tucks his tongue inside to feel a feeble clench, then sweeps.

He saws his tongue through her glistening cunt to the furl of her ass, adjusting his grip when the latter wrings a surprised, indignant whine out of her. He lavishes over the rim until he feels it give, chasing it when she wiggles. It’s not her favorite, never has been, but he can usually—yes, there it is. Her squirming turns from escape as soon as his hand slides up from her knee to her folds.

There’s no resistance at all to plunge two fingers into her, crooking and dragging her back onto his tongue again and again. Teasing her ass with the muscle, drawing out a string of soft, helpless whimpers.

Her whines echo when he withdraws, rising to his feet, digits still buried inside. He drapes over her back, lungs heaving in air. A couple milliliters of water in his stomach.

His cock’s trapped between them, slippery in the cleft of her ass. He pumps his fingers slowly, ignoring her fruitless wiggling, encouraging him along, instead snaking his free hand around her front to find her swollen clit.

“Mmph,” she sinks her teeth into the forearm beneath her head, eyes rolling back.

He watches, rapt. Every twitch in her facial features, each flutter of her lashes. On the edge of oblivion and circling, stuck, chasing the push and pull of his hand. Frustration mounting with every whine. Oh, it’s cruel. So mean.

Rewarding, though, when he stops. Abruptly. Unceremoniously. Tugs his fingers out and jams them into the pocket of his mouth for a taste.

The desperate complaints that erupt, the raw neediness. It satisfies.

Sometimes, he thinks he should be softer with her, the way John and Kate are. They’d both deny it, but they’re far quicker to fold and to dote. Maybe he should spoil her more. Dig out the Simbir, tell her to pack her bags, and take her somewhere warm where the sun bakes the sand white. But that’s not who he is, and she knew that when she got into this.

He already gives her everything. His time, his money, his hands when she needs them. He fixes her shit. Buys her presents. Listens. That’s enough. More than enough.

And if she ever wanted something else—Kate’s tenderness, John’s predictability—she’d speak up.

Instead, she’s clumsily insulting his haircut and shivering, their shared warmth spiraling down the drain. He entertains her a second more before reaching around, shutting the water off, and slaps her ass.

“Out, darling.”

Nik takes his time drying her off, running the towel over every bit, all while humming an innocent tune. She simmers, jaw tight, but he pays no mind. Then he repeats the process on himself, glancing into the mirror while she hovers behind him, arms crossed tightly and bouncing lightly on her heels.

“You know, maybe if you had not mouthed off, I would be inclined to move faster.”

“Who says I want you to move faster?” She shoots back. “You might break a hip.”

His face must turn demonic with how wide her eyes go. It is nothing to him, just words, he knows. He is old. Certainly not made for jumping out of birds mid-flight.

It’s enjoyable to make her sweat, though.

“Still in a bad mood, tsarevna? What happened to my nice girl? You wound me.”

Nikolai brushes past her, his nose catching the tart scent of soap clinging to her skin. The fragrance is fleeting, but intoxicating, and better that they share it. He passes into the bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed in a heap. His back hits the mattress with a grunt of relief, and he stretches out, arms bent behind his head. He flashes his teeth, enjoying her struggling composure.

He fists the base of his cock, giving it a couple lazy strokes.

“My back’s killing me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. Takes the hint.

With a half-hearted scowl, she slinks up the bed, the haze in her eyes and the slick on her thighs betraying her. Settling over him, she plants her hands firmly against his chest, threading into his hair with just enough bite to be mean.The heat of her radiates, burns, sears his knuckles on the upstroke. Eyes locked, he knows what she’s playing at.

“Hate the snow that much?”

“I hate being cold.”

“So you’ve said. Let me warm you up. Sit down.”

She hesitates, chewing her cheek as if she’s not aching for it, but the command takes.

It’s a team effort, her hand over his, guiding and holding him still until the last moment, and then it’s all her following gravity’s lead. Sinking down onto his cock, impaling herself inch by inch.

He groans. “Fuck, baby, like a glove.”

The heat’s almost too much, her cunt drenched and warmed by the shower and his teasing. He digs into her hips, kneading her flesh with a low sound as she settles fully, her mouth hanging open. It won’t be long before she remembers herself. Remember she’s supposed to be cross with him. Play petulant, mock his age, pretend he’s the meanest old bastard she’s ever crossed paths with.

Nik thrusts experimentally, knocking her out of the heavens, dragging her back down to earth with him.

Her eyelids crack open, but she bites off a noise and presses her lips tightly together, fighting herself.

“You’re not cold anymore, are you?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

She shakes her head. “Still cold.”

He swats her for that, palm cracking across a cheek. “Then get to it.”

It’s slow going at first. More of her posturing, lifting and dropping herself on his dick as mechanically as possible. But another swat makes her clench and speed up, unable to deny how that feels at least. Again, he lets her play her game. Gives her a taste of victory. In return, he doesn’t spare an ounce of effort. He’s flown through countless hot zones, under fire. With a knife to his throat. While applying pressure to a leaking wound. Ignoring a bit of pussy, even when it’s hers, even when it’s warm and perfect, isn’t difficult.

Kate taught him that—to let their pet wear herself out when she’s in a mood. Makes her pliant.

Before long, her movements falter, trembling with the strain, sweat beading along her forehead and trailing down her neck. Down the curve of her stomach, between her swinging breasts. A drop migrates from the tit squeezed in his hand, tracing a path down his wrist. He lets go to lick it off, chuckling at her wince.

“What’s the matter?” he rasps, and when she doesn’t answer, he jerks up hard, and startles a gasp out of her. “Not enough?”

Her movements are sloppier now, equal parts desperation and exhaustion. Poor baby—having to stand in the shower while he spoiled her, having to work for it now. All the while pretending she hates it. Hates the snow. Hates the cabin. Hates the entire trip.

She can lie to herself all she wants.

But she can’t lie to him.

Not when she’s digging her nails into his chest like she’ll slip through the cracks of reality if she lets go. Not when every breath that leaves her lips shakes with need. Not when she stares down at him, wide-eyed, pupils blown, mouth slack.

Makes it sweeter when she finally caves.

She nods, pausing to grind down on his cock. “Need more.”

He hums, letting his hands trace up the length of her spine, slow and easy. “Mm? Thought I was ‘disgusting’? A ‘perverted old man’?”

Before she can bite back, he moves. In a fluid motion, he grips her hips, shifts his weight, and flips her onto her back. She lands with a sharp gasp caught between her teeth. He follows, pressing in close, caging her beneath him. His palms settle at her waist, thumbs stroking over her heated skin.

“Still think that, pretty girl?” he murmurs, eyes gleaming as his breath ghosting over her throat. “Or do you want to try and be nice again?” He glides back in one harsh thrust.

“F-Fuck, Nikolai–”

“C’mon, tsarevna, surely you can do better than that,” he teases, though his control on language falters. He hits something sensitive, making her throw her head back and knock her knees to his ribs. “Shit, at least your hole is honest, what about your mouth?”

She doesn’t get much of a chance to answer—doesn’t have the breath for it. It’s good, too good. Pulling back, relishing the drag, and pushing back in deep, his pace steady and relentless.

She fights a little when he fucks her through her first orgasm. Teary-eyed, looking up at him, her expression one of pure betrayal with her wrists trapped in one of his hands, clicking his tongue at her feeble attempt to shove him off. One brief look affirms she’s fine, so he snarls down a reminder that she can take it.

When he lets go, it’s only to order her.

“Hold your—yes, baby, like that.”

It’s obscene. The view, the sounds. Her hands gripping the sweaty curves beneath her knees, holding her legs up, exposing herself completely. Where her cunt swallows him again and again, soaking him and seeping into the sheets.

He pauses and pulls out completely, like before, timing it perfectly as her muscles tighten, watching her squirm beneath him. Her hole clenches uselessly around nothing, and her hands twitch, fighting to stay put, with her teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip to keep quiet.

She’s learned that much, at least.

If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all.

“Look at you. Called me disgusting. But you?” He grinds in slow. “Filthy.”

He thumbs over her clit, drawing messy figure eights over the slippery bud, curling his free fingers in her bush. Some mean word gets tossed his way, but it rewards him with the sharp arch of her spine beneath him. She comes hard just as he pinches her clit, cutting a curse off his tongue with how tight she goes.

Chain reaction. He lets up the moment he knows it’s inevitable, covering her hands with his own and pressing her knees back as far as they’ll go.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Nikolai grunts, jaw clicking as he heaves himself in as far as he can, burying himself deep.

He swears it puts years on his life, nullifying whatever time’s stolen. It yanks a dirty laugh out of him when there’s too much, and leaks out around the plug of his cock. Her hole practically spits a glob as he slips free, milky white dribbling down her ass and smearing into his thigh.

The sound of it coming out makes her abandon her hold at last, squeaking out something like oh my god, wrestling with him until he’s flush against her back, head in the space between their pillows. An arm curled around her in a bear hug, the other drifting lower.

His name comes out in a panicked, slurred whisper. “Nik? Nik—Nik—Nik, you c-cah aaaan’t–”

The morning passes into the afternoon before the last of her fight fades. She eventually curls into him like a cat, soft and pliant against him, her muscles relaxed, her cheek pressed to his chest. There’s only one brief interruption in the long stretch of hours—just enough time for him to give her more than just his own fluids, and for him to indulge in the all-important ritual.

He lets her sleep, allowing her to come to on her own time, while he sneaks another drink directly from the bottle, appreciating the burn.

This give and take, the push and pull?

He would not trade it for anything.

She stirs with a small groan, wiping drool from her chin with the back of her hand, blinking slowly, eyes heavy with sleep. A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, and he sets the bottle down with a soft clink, his thumb absently tracing the peeling corner of the label.

Her face scrunches in discomfort, pushing herself upright, and suddenly freezes. She cringes, pulling her hand away from a damp spot.

“Kolya?” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

“Yes?”

“C’mon, let’s change the sheets…”

He arches an eyebrow, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Mm, this is the only set.”

“You animal.”

He chuckles again, pulling her back down to steal a kiss.

She sighs against his mouth. “Happy birthday, old man.”

#nikolai x reader #nikolai cod x reader #nikolai cod #f!reader

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demonic0angel · 11 hours ago

Note

Dani being violently protective of Kon and/or Tim.

She snarled.

“Spirit,” Superman argued as gently as he could. “They need help. We can help. Please let us through so we can get to them.”

“No!” She swiped at them with her claws, drawing blood as Green Lantern had tried to reach for them. He pulled back with a yelp, eying her with alarm. She hissed again, bristling like a cat.

Looking at her, she was practically feral, crouched over the unconscious bodies of Red Robin and Superboy. Her pupils turned into pinpricks as she glared at them in mindless rage, her fangs bared and her wispy hair ablaze like a living fire. If any of the heroes approached them, she was quick to scratch or blast them with her ghost rays.

Superman glanced at Batman in worry, who was similarly stiff. No one could think of a plan to both subdue her and take away the unconscious boys without more injuries.

None of them wanted to hurt Spirit or the two boys, but the latter were bleeding out and desperately needed medical attention. Spirit had been protecting them for hours now until the Justice League had finally arrived, and it looked as though she needed medical assistance herself, bleeding green from various cuts and bruises.

A voice spoke up then. “It’s a wonder how she hasn’t passed out yet. Move, please.”

Everyone stepped aside as Phantom floated over, eying Spirit who was spitting mad, furiously hissing at anyone who approached Superboy and Red Robin.

“Dani,” he said suddenly, “you need to let us see them. They’re going to die if they don’t get medical attention now.”

Spirit shook her head. “No! No!” However, she seemed to recognize Phantom and she faltered, glancing downward at where she was covering Red Robin and Superboy.

Phantom was calm. “No, they will. I can tell. You have to let us help them. Or they’ll die.”

“No! N-No…” Spirit mumbled, her hair flickering.

Phantom reached for her and she didn’t move as he gently touched her face, rubbing the blood away from a scratch. “Sleep. We’ll take care of them, alright? On my honor, little sister.”

Spirit stared at him and then her eyes fluttered shut before she dropped like a stone. There was a bright light and when everyone blinked the spots out of their eyes, Phantom had Spirit wrapped up in his jacket, concealing her underneath. He lifted her into his arms and then said, “You should take the other two. I’ll take care of Spirit.”

As he turned to leave, Batman reached for his shoulder. Phantom paused and turned with a sigh. “Before you ask, yes, we have to have a talk about why my sister is so overprotective over your son. Yes, he will have to fight to the death for her hand. No, you can’t stop it from happening.”

Batman froze in place and then sighed loudly. “No, that wasn’t what I was going to say. Spirit is your sister?”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “Yes. Now go and take care of your son.”

Batman stared after him as Phantom flew off. Superman approached him and then they both looked at each other.

They had a lot to talk about.

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hotchnerwrites · 2 days ago

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hello this is my first time requesting so sorry if it’s bad😭😭😭. but i was thinking about maybe the reader having a hard day at work (she worked at the bau) and was kinda stress out so hotch sits her in between his legs and fingers her while whispering sweet nothings in her ear ???? i just need him to take care of me😩😩😩😩😩

Reckless

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: NSFW (18+), fingering, mirror sex, kind of established but hidden relationship, no use of (y/n), afab reader

A/N: Hi, hun, thank you so much for taking the chance on me and requesting, especially since this is your first time <3 It was a great request, and I love the idea! I'm kinda new to writing smut. It's definitely a learning curve for me, but I tried my best. I really hope you like this, and it's what you wanted!!! mwah mwah mwah, enjoy. And man, I want Aaron to talk me through it so bad 😩

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

You hate Denver.

It’s ridiculously hot. Not even the AC was helping. And to add fuel to the fire, the local sheriff was utterly incompetent. Not only had he lost half the physical evidence, but he was also getting in the way of the team’s job.

And just your luck— you’d been tasked with retrieving the evidence. In a desperate effort to escape from reality, you’d locked yourself in the evidence cabinet, hands still shaking from too much caffeine. You knew it couldn’t last forever, but even ten minutes away from the local police was solace.

For a while, the only noise in the room was the ruffle of papers as you dug through cardboard boxes desperately, wishing the documents would magically reappear. Mindless work, but it was grinding your gears, and you could feel yourself becoming more stressed by the minute. But you keep at it, hoping against hope.

Just as you begin to settle into your task, you hear the door creak open. Damn it.

You tense, hoping it’s not that damn sheriff again. You didn’t want to have to punch him in the face. But a familiar cologne of warm spice and amber crowds your space and the tension eases— Hotch.

Though you were grateful for his presence, the case, the pressure, the exhaustion— it had all built up to a breaking point. The last thing you wanted was to talk, but you couldn’t shake the knot in your chest. Hotch, always attuned to your mood, noticed how you seemed to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders right now. That’s why he’d followed you into the filing cabinet.

Wordlessly, he slides you a small piece of paper. Before you could open it, he places a soft kiss on your temple and leaves the way he came.

10 pm Knock thrice if you’re feeling reckless. Twice if you want me to behave. Either way, my door is always open. - A

You smile.

———

You lay spread-eagle on your bed, listening for the sound of doors closing. You wanted the team in bed before you went to Aaron. All but one door… and there it was. The last click. The coast was clear. You swing your legs off the bed. Exhaustion racks your frame, but your excitement masks the strain.

You slip out of your hotel room, gently drawing your door close. Aaron’s room is opposite yours— convenient. As you’re about to knock on his door, you hesitate for a second. Twice or thrice? But as the week you’ve had flashes in front of your eyes, your resolve hardens.

Tap-tap-tap.

The door swings open almost immediately. Chocolate brown eyes meet yours, and the day’s irritation melts away. Aaron takes you by the wrist, guiding you into the room gently. The warmth of his palm was comforting, a reassurance that you were safe, even when your mind was racing.

As you follow him, you take in the state of the room. Files are scattered across the desk. A few are marked with sticky notes, others open to pages filled with dense reports and scribbled annotations. A half-finished glass of bourbon is balanced precariously nearby, and his blazer is draped over the back of the chair. Aaron’s tie is missing, tossed in some dark corner.

A dry chuckle escapes you, “Good to see I’m not the only one going nuts from stress.”

He doesn’t respond, but the small quirk of his lips tells you he heard.

“Sit,” he instructed softly, pointing towards the edge of the bed. With a quiet exhale, you obey, letting yourself be steered. You didn’t want to think anymore. Your knees fall open as you settle in, tension roving through your muscles.

Hotch steps between your legs, presence steady and grounding. Without a word, he places his hands on your shoulders, expert thumbs kneading the knots there.

Slow. Deliberate.

You can’t help the groan that falls from your lips. It felt heavenly.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and soothing. “Take a deep breath for me.”

The rigidity in your neck eases slowly, and your breathing evens out. For the first time since landing in Denver, you let go.

But just as you begin to get comfortable under Aaron’s ministrations, he moves.

Not far, just enough to sink down on the mattress beside you. Before you could process his decision, his large paws envelop your waist. And he pulls— guiding you effortlessly into his lap.

A quiet gasp escaped you as you let yourself be gathered into his hold, your back pressing flush against his chest, his arms winding around your middle.

“Better?” he murmured against your hair, his lips barely brushing your temple.

You exhaled, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Better.”

“Let me take care of you tonight, honey,” he whispered, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

He wasn’t kidding about being reckless. You had never done this before on a case. Despite that, you nod eagerly. You needed this. And something told you that Aaron did, too.

He doesn’t waste any time. Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hands trail up your ribs, going all the way up under your shirt. The feeling of his fingers on your skin set your senses on fire. Heat blooms across your face and your head lolls back against his shoulders as he cups your tits, the rough pad of his thumbs flicking against your nipples. A low grunt from Aaron conveys that he’s grateful for your decision to forego a bra tonight.

Without warning, he pinches your right nipple. The sudden sensation catches you off guard, and you gasp, arching into his touch. He’s barely even started touching you, and you’re already losing it.

“The mirror,” he says suddenly.

The words cut through the haze of arousal settling on your brain. “What?”

“The mirror. Look at it.” You feel him indicate with a nod, and you blink, gaze shifting forward to land on the large mirror across from the bed—one of those standard hotel-room fixtures positioned perfectly to reflect the two of you.

What you see makes heat spread across your face. You, seated in Aaron’s lap, with his arms wrapped securely around your waist. Your face is flushed, and your nipples are pointed through the material of your shirt. Your jaw hangs slightly open, and you’re breathing audibly. You look utterly wanton and at Aaron’s mercy. With a start, you realise his shirt is rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms.

Just the way you like it.

And the way they strained as they caged you against him? Words couldn’t describe how badly you needed him right now. Sensing your desire, Aaron moves faster. In the blink of an eye, he pulls your thin shirt over your head and discards it, exposing your breasts. Large, calloused hands sweep across your body and whispered sighs fall from your mouth.

“Touch me, please,” you beg, desperate for his hands to graze you where you need him the most.

Through the mirror, you watch Aaron as he slowly mouths up your neck, settling on that soft spot behind your ears. Impatience takes over, and you grind into his lap, rubbing your pussy into his hardening crotch. You needed him inside you now, and you didn’t care whether it was his fingers or his cock.

“Patience,” he rasps into your ear, “Or I’m gonna go even slower.”

Your retort burns on your tongue, but before you can do anything about it, Aaron slides his hands under the waistband of your pants. He brushes his fingers gently over your abdomen, taking his sweet time.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good tonight, sweetheart,” he continues. His voice is unfairly composed. You have no idea how his brain is still functioning because yours certainly isn’t. All you can think about is the feeling of his thick fingers, preferably buried inside your cunt.

A prolonged moan slips out of you. You couldn’t give less of a damn about who heard right now.

“Aaron,” you plead, making eye contact through the mirror. He looks so pleased— like a cat that got the cream. And then, slowly— oh, so slowly—his fingers flit over where you needed him the mouth.

“I want you to keep your eyes on yourself, sweetheart,” Aaron commanded, his Unit Chief voice seeping out. “If you don’t, I’ll stop.”

Your breath hitches. You nod. Anything. Whatever he wanted, you’d give it to him. You just wanted him inside of you.

Aaron rolls your pants down in a deft movement, letting his palms rove over your stomach. Thankfully, he decides to put you out of your misery, and slides his fingers into your panties, groaning in your ear as it slips in oh so easily, creating a wet sound. The friction sends you to heaven, and you stretch your legs further apart, too far gone to be embarrassed by how you look in the mirror right now.

“My pretty girl,” he rasps, “You’ve been so good today.”

The praise has you whimpering and you grind down on his palm.

“Didn’t even complain,” Aaron grunts, hooking his fingers inside your gummy walls, “Such a good girl.” You whimper at his words and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. The way he’s scissoring his fingers in your cunt…

“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re so wet for me right now.”

Aaron continues to slide his fingers in and out of you, ever so slowly but oh so perfectly. You bite your lips to contain the noises threatening to escape you, but when he grabs your tit, rolling a nipple between his fingers, your eyes slide shut, letting the sensations take over.

“I said,” he growls, punctuating his words with thrusts of his fingers, “Look. At. The Mirror.”

Your eyes fly open, and your hips jerk involuntarily, overwhelmed by the feel of his touch. Your body burns in pleasure, and his name falls from your lips, tangled with a soft moan.

“God, you feel so fucking good, honey,” Aaron groans, “I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re so wet. You’re doing so well, baby”

“Please, yes…” you whine back, body arching to beg for more. His fingers are dripping wet with your arousal and you watch them disappear repeatedly into your cunt, making damp sounds. You bite your lower lip to keep your impending orgasm at bay, but just then, Aaron circles your clit with the pad of his thumb.

The cry that leaves you only seems to incense Aaron. He’s fully hard by now, and you can feel his cock straining painfully against your ass. Pleasure clouds your brain, and you can’t do anything but take what he gives you and grind helplessly on his lap. Despite that, you don’t look away from the mirror, watching indulgently as you bounce on Aaron’s hand and he sucks light bruises into your neck.

Aaron keeps circling your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. The coil in your belly is tightening and you can barely even concentrate on the honeyed words he’s spilling in your ears. He continues to work you, pumping his fingers steadily into your pussy.

“Aaron, I wanna cum so bad,” you sob, hovering over the edge. The pleasure is spreading from your clit to the rest of your body, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold on.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers, “Let go.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Your orgasm crashes into you like a massive wave, walls squeezing his fingers tightly. Aaron groans deeply in your ear as you ride out your pleasure, watching you through the mirror. He continues thrusting his fingers inside you, his other hand holding your waist tightly.

Tears prick your eyes, and your body shakes. You take time to come down from your high, but when you do, you can’t even remember why you’d been in such a shit mood today to start with.

Aaron gently brushes strands of hair away from your face, still whispering sweet nothings. His eyes were still dark with lust, but he was looking at you like you’d hung the moon. You lift a trembling hand and wrap your palm around his wrist. Not pushing or pulling, just holding on.

“There’s my girl,” Aaron smiles, holding you close. “Feel any better?”

“Much,” you admit.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, as he peppers your neck and shoulders with kisses.

“Hey, Aaron,” you start suddenly, “I think I know where the sheriff put the evidence.”

“What?” Aaron blinks at you, processing your words. Then, with an exasperated smirk, “You really know how to kill a mood, sweetheart.”

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

#criminal minds #hotchnerwritescm #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #hotchner smut #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x you smut #hotch x you smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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mediocreanomaly · 3 days ago

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Thank You For This Meal.

Sinister!Mark X GN!Reader (NSFWish?)

**Content Warning: Cannibalism as foreplay, obsessed behavior, cannon typical violence, idk if this counts as dubcon but I'm going to tag it anyway to stay safe 👍 Dead dove do not eat, basically **

Authors Note: as someone whose main blog's most liked post is about cannibalism metaphoring obsessive love you know I had to do it to ‘em. It's not super over the top but I respect when it's not someone's yum.

“You look absolutely mouth-watering right now, dear,” Mark hums. Despite the saccharine-sweet tone, it comes off as mocking.

You try to remind yourself to breathe, it would only encourage him more if he thought you were scared. He liked when your heart pittered in your chest like a rabbits in a hound's jaws. But in a way… weren't you?

Mark's reign of terror had come fast and brutal, as he operated with most things in life. Funnily enough, you'd never really known the extent of your powers until he'd taken over. Figuring out you could regenerate had been easy enough; a few scraped knees and papercuts fading in an instant had been enough to clue you in, but you still felt the pain when it happened, so it had never felt practical to do anything with it.

It had remained a convenient lucky draw for most of your life the way other people ended up with a fast metabolism or a few extra inches in height.

Then he took over.

People died by the millions, it was harder to stay alive than it was to give up at this point. Cities lay in ruin or leveled all together. Scavenging for food and water was to risk being spotted and being made into an example for anyone still foolish enough to resist Mark’s rule.

For the first few weeks, you’d naively thought yourself one of the lucky ones. Wounds sealed shut in seconds, while others suffered through severed limbs and festering infections. You never had to fear bleeding out, never had to fear dying.

But there were fates much worse than death.

Being discovered by Mark was a freak accident that had somehow become the new primary event your life orbited around.

You had banded together with a small camp of survivors, hoping to make it to Canada, where whispers of a resistance had begun to spread when Mark had found your little party.

It had been over in seconds. Wet blood and intestines had painted the dirt like a bad contemporary art piece.

You hadn't been spared either, it was the first time you'd really had put your powers to the test.

You'd gasped and coughed up thick iron as muscle rewound together under repairing torn flesh and blood reflowing its way through your veins as if the clock had been rewound. Your body rejecting Mark's easy destruction, refusing to stay ruined.

And Mark… Mark had looked at you like he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

His smile had felt like a death toll.

It's hard to say what exactly you'd become to mark. Some fractured version of a beloved pet maybe, on call and in demand at all times, affection and complete obedience was expected, and if it wasn't given? Mark had zero issues putting your powers to work. Bones turned to dust like brittle sticks under his hands, muscle peeled away like slow-roasted ribs, tendons snapped with a sicking ease, and just about anything popped with the right amount of pressure.

Tonight was just another night in a long list of obscenities.

The position you found yourself in was humiliating at best. Bound with rope, bare, spread out on the table, gagged, arranged with meticulous intent. The position meant to look equal parts erotic and appetizing, meant to stir some fine line between lust and hunger in the man stalking you like a starved wolf eager to indulge in both.

He closes in enough to run a gloved hand over your exposed thighs. Your muscles betray you and tense under his feather light advance, as he licks his lips.

“What would I do without you, huh?” He thumbs over the rope preventing you from closing your legs.

“So pretty so… appetizing.” He squeezes the fat of your thighs, drinking in the way your breath picks up.

He leans in between your legs, nuzzling against you, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. Watching you through dark eyelashes, eyes half lidded but gaze no less sharp as he takes in every twitch, every flinch, every reaction. You swear he salivates when your muscles go taunt.

“What's wrong, baby? Scared I’m going to–” He nips at your thighs then laughs at the way you flinch from the graze of his teeth.

“Yeah, I’d say I don’t bite, but… we both know that’s not true.”

Your breath hitches, and your eyes flicker up to the dark ceiling, knowing what's to come. The relief is short lived when Marks hand wraps around your chin with a grip like lead.

“Hey.” He forces you to meet his eyes, the amusement gone in an instant.

“Look at me. You know I hate when you do that.”

He reaches over to dip two of his fingers into some sort of dark sauce before he spreads it across your thigh in a slow deliberate motion that borders on reverent.

“I've been thinking about how you taste” he murmurs, licking the dark liquid off his fingers.

He smirks at the way you eye him.

“Oh don't have such a dirty mind. You know what I meant, although… that's not such a bad idea either.”

He puts his hands on your knees and spreads you impossibly further forcing you to arch your back slightly to stay in the position comfortably.

“Maybe after?” He muses almost thoughtful, “As a treat.”

Despite yourself, your heartbeat flutters. Whether out of fear of what's happening or the anticipation of what's to come you don't know, Mark has a weird way of making arousal and terror feel identical.

His grin sharpens, and you sympathize with the lowly fawn stalked by the lion. It never had a chance, and it seems…

Neither did you.

“Thank you for this meal.”

Mark's mouth opens and for someone who looked so human he had a way of making it feel like it was a maw that was about to wrap around the meat of your leg.

Blunt teeth start to break skin and you can’t tell if the droplets hitting the wood below are remnants of the sauce or the first beads of blood spilling out of you.

It hardly matters. It'd be back as soon as it was gone, mouthfuls of warm flesh for him to sink his teeth into and sate his never ending gluttony over and over again.

Because Mark Grayson broke everything he touched.

And finally, he'd found something that could survive it.

#invincible #mark grayson #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #sinister!mark x reader #sinister!mark #capevincible x reader #capevincible #that dumbass name amazon came up with smh...#dead dove do not eat #my fav freak 🙏

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metaforikal · 2 days ago

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MDNI .ᐟ

𐙚 mydeimos & phainon 𐙚

nsfw, afab, no pronouns were used, mydei is a softie, phainon is a meanie.

penetration, cunnilingus, teasing.

⋆˙⟡ — mydei

➤ intercourse is like a sacred ritual between lovers to him, something that shouldn't be rushed. so he isn't one for mindless roughness despite what most people think he'd do.

�� he'd make sure you're comfortable in his lap, back against his chest as his fingers skillfully prep you down there. he's aware of his size, he wants it to go smooth sailing without hurting you that much.

➤ enjoys, enjoyssss the small little mewls that would spill from your lips just by coming undone on his fingers alone. he'd curl when it hits a certain depth, making your breath hitch.

➤ when you're wet enough, he'd use your bodily fluid as a lube, coating his arousal with it before pressing the angry tip to your aching core.

➤ he'd go slow and sensual half-way through, making sure everything feels right and snug before hilting himself forward, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

➤ his rhythm is just nice, a mixture of deep, steady and unrelenting thrusts. the room is filled with shared sounds of pleasure, a symphony that is considered a blessing to his ears.

➤ "you're so good at taking me in" he would praise you. the way he split you so deliciously makes your eyes roll back, tongue lolling out. you chant out his name like a prayer, the only word you're capable of uttering out at the moment.

➤ he loves this position. you, sitting in his lap, so close, body pressed against his, taking in his arousal deep in you while his fingers play around with your pebbled nipples.

➤ his other hand would tilt your head to the side, enough for him to access your lips. his kisses are as deep and passionate as his thrusts, drinking in your moans.

➤ he loves the look on your face, drunk on his love, eyes all hazy and glazed. you in this state, all reserved just for him.

⋆˙⟡ — phainon

➤ ceo of teasing, master of edging, nuff said.

➤ oh poor little you, you've been crying for awhile now, begging him to just please untie the knot in you! but he'd just chuckle, his fingers stop it's relentless tease just when you're about to fold.

➤ "ah ah ah, no cumming yet, my love" he taunts you, making you whimper as a form of protest. he enjoys seeing your teary eyes, lips pouting. he knows damn well that your ego won't let you beg for release in the form of words.

➤ he's a pussy eater. correct.

➤ you can try your best to close your legs, still it won't budge. he has a vice-like grip on your thighs, making sure it remains open for him to feast upon the ambrosia dripping in between your legs. whatever phagousa blessed onto amphoreus isn't enough to quench his thirst like how your bodily fluids do.

➤ he'd make you cry on his tongue for sure, especially when he feels how your velvet walls clench onto him. your back arched, no longer against the soft sheets of the bed. he loves how you squirm, shudder.

➤ the way your fingers dig into his scalp, tugging onto his snowy hair, pushing and pulling his head away, just made him even more turned-on.

➤ he's more of a bully than mydei is. his fingers join the sensual assault on your aching core alongside his tongue, gently spreading open the folds as he laps on it like a man starved.

➤ "i could never get enough of this" he murmurs against your skin, making goosebumps rise across your whole body. you swear you could just lose consciousness from the overwhelming pleasure washing over you.

➤ his favourite position is missionary, he wants to see the myriad of facial expression you'd make when he has you impaled on him. he wants to see how you'd cry and scream his name, seeing how droll spills from the edge of your plump, kiss-swollen lips.

GOT THIS DONE YAHUUU _(´ཀ`」 ∠) _ i deleted the initial one cuz of some little mistakes that i did and i kinda don't want to edit so i just deleted the whole thing and redo 😭

time to get to requests! i'll try to get it done before mydei's banner drop cuz i'll be busy staring at mydei.

#mydei'skronikal ☘︎#phainon'skronikal ☘︎#metaforikalkronikal ☘︎#mydei x reader #mydei x you #mydei smut #mydeimos x reader #phainon x reader #phainon x you #phainon smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail smut

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quadrantadvisor · 2 days ago

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Pairing Off, in which the Waynes meet the Fentons, just not all at once. 2,443 words

Damian feels less than positively about the new girl in his grade.

Danielle Fenton has already garnered a bit of a reputation. Her uniform is clearly second hand, and rumors abound about whether she has joined them at Gotham Academy on a merit scholarship or as “one of Wayne's charity cases.” Neither is true; Father has offered no fiscal support to the Fentons, and yet both she and her older brother attend the Academy, leading Damian to believe they've somehow paid their own way.

Her lower class status and midwestern accent ought to make Fenton a target, but her response to being cornered or talked down to by other students was an unsettling combination of cheerful and aggressive. She is now mostly left to her own devices, despite her notoriety.

Damian has no interest in the girl. While it is true that she excels in both mathematics and social studies, her performance in English and science are unremarkable, and she poses no challenge to his rank at the top of the class. If he finds himself pushing harder in certain classes this semester in order to maintain the edge, it's no one else's business.

Now if only she would leave him alone.

Damian preemptively slams his sketchbook shut, just as a brash, inconsiderate, annoying girl hops up to sit on his desk. “Hey Dami, what're you drawing?”

“It is none of your business,” Damian seethes. “Remove yourself from my personal space before I-” he isn't allowed to threaten classmates with bodily harm, imply that he has brought weapons to school, or use words that are derogatory to women “-do so myself. By force.” He would avoid her altogether if he could, but Fenton is annoyingly (suspiciously) sneaky. He can only ever seem to sense her when she's just about on top of him.

Fenton merely laughs, high, bright, and joyful, and Damian grits his teeth. “Did you draw me yet?” she asks, and doesn't move an inch.

“No, I have not drawn you. I never said I would, and I have no plans to. Stop asking me.”

She shrugs and kicks her feet. “Maybe you'll change your mind. Can I see what you're working on?”

Damian pulls the sketchbook a tad bit closer to himself (a protective reflex that shows his weakness, he should be better than that by now.) “Never, imbecile.”

Fenton sticks her tongue out at him like a child. “Mean,” she says, still smiling. “I wanna see your art. It's so good!”

Damian tilts his nose up at her. “Of course it is, plebeian, I have standards-” he starts, but is cut off by the teacher entering. Fenton slides off his desk and heads to her own seat. Damian stows his sketchbook in his bag and tries not to think of the unfinished work inside, featuring a girl with dark hair, light eyes, and a mischievous grin.

There's this brownstone on the outskirts of Crime Alley, an old townhouse recently converted into commercial space. There's a coffee shop on street level, a tattoo parlor down the stairs, some sorta wine emporium on the second floor, and on the third, a little second hand bookshop

It's outside the border of Jason's territory, but he feels sorta responsible for it, given that he frequents the place.

It's a little out of his way, but the atmosphere is nice, alright? Clean, with soft lighting, but not sterile or corporate like the bigger places downtown. The owners are an older couple who Jason has met a couple of times, and they seem pretty happy with the new location. They're collectors, really, who run the shop to make ends meet.

Mostly, Jason talks to their employee. Jazz.

Jazz works in the afternoons and evenings, after her classes. She goes to Gotham U, double majoring in pre-med and psych, on top of a full time job, because she's almost as insane as a bat. She assures Jason that she does alright, gets a little downtime to study on her shifts.

She always makes time to talk to Jason.

Jazz is an interesting person to talk books with. She cares less about plot and literary themes, and more about diagnosing every character with their own personal malady of the mind. She dissects their thought processes and behaviors, ruthless in her analysis.

She's gonna be a brain surgeon someday, open people up and see what really makes them tick. Jason doesn't doubt it for a second.

So maybe Jason is a little bit in love with her.

It's not a big deal. Obviously it's not going anywhere. It's just nice to have something normal, to talk to someone normal, about normal stuff like books and college and sibling antics.

Jazz's stories about her sibling, Danny, rival Jason's own, and his family is fucking disastrous. Jason isn't actually sure if Dan is older or younger than Jazz is, or, for that matter, what pronouns he should use for them, since Jazz mixes it up pretty regularly. He knows that Jazz absolutely adores them, though, and it's heartwarming, the way she smiles as she talks.

All of that to explain why Red Hood is keeping an eye on a brownstone that technically falls outside of his territory.

There's a girl inside that he needs to keep safe.

“Hey bud, late night?” Dick asks the man lying prone in an alley, a block away from the Iceberg Lounge.

The response is slurred with sleep and muffled by a cheek pressed hard into asphalt. “S'at you, Dick?”

“Sure is. We've got to stop meeting like this,” Dick tells him, and means it.

The guy's name is Dan. No last name offered, which was fair, since Dick hasn't mentioned his.

What was weird was that Dan didn't give Penguin his last name, either, when he signed his employment contract. Just Dan.

Penguin has been trying to expand his influence into Bludhaven, and Dick's been trying to figure out why. Cobblepot is a very Gotham sort of gangster, all wrapped up in the city's ideas of style and respectability; Dick honestly would've thought that Blud was beneath him. He needs to figure out who he's contacting and what they're offering him, and he needs to do it before Penguin can get a foothold on his turf.

Running into Dan was a side effect. Dick didn't mean to keep doing it. It's just that Dan has this weird habit of completely disregarding trivial concerns such as his own health and safety, and doing weird shit like, as a random example, getting tired, laying down, and passing out. In the middle of the street. In Gotham.

The main part of Dan's job seems to be bouncing at the club. It makes sense—if you wanted to hire a guy as muscle, you couldn't do much better than Dan. He's at least 6 and a half feet tall, with a chest wider than Jason's.

But Dick has also seen Dan traveling with Penguin before. Add in the fact that it's almost impossible to dig up info on him, and that tailing him is somehow even harder, and a picture starts to come together. A very vague, very suspicious picture.

It's too bad that Dick sort of likes him, and that he's incredibly hot.

Dan has removed his face from the alley floor, and is in the process of pushing himself up. “Not your business, man,” he retorts. “What are you, a cop?”

Dick can't help a wry chuckle at that. “Not anymore.”

“No shit?” Dan asks, hauling himself to his feet. He towers over Dick like that, but it's hard to be intimidated by a man whose cheek is red and pockmarked by little bits of gravel. Dick is legitimately embarrassed that he finds it charming. He needs to get better taste in men. “Yeah, no, that makes sense,” Dan continues, looking Dick up and down. “No way they could keep your ass on the force.”

“Oh yeah?” Dick asks.

Dan snorts. “I can smell the idealism on you from here.” He starts walking, heading straight past Dick, who falls into step beside him. “You remind me of this kid I know.”

Dick gives an interested hum, hoping that if he doesn't interrupt, Dan will elaborate, but no dice.

“So, where're you taking me this time?” the big man asks, still leading, and Dick stifles a grin at how silly the whole thing is.

“Maybe if I take you out for coffee, you won't faceplant onto any more concrete,” he says, reaching up to brush off some of the little rocks. Dan stutters to a stop as Dick touches his cheek, letting him, then strides off again as soon as he's done.

“Don't care, as long as you're paying.”

Dick stops him with a tug to his arm. “Coffee shop's this way,” he explains, pointing, and Dan doesn't hesitate, pivoting to take the lead once again. Dick rushes to keep up with his not-date, a criminal who he literally picked up off the street and who has no idea where he's going. He can't see his own smile, but he knows from experience that it is both delighted and a little manic. He admits to himself, begrudgingly, that he likes his men with something wrong with them.

The biggest reason that Tim played so much Doomed with Ghost_Boy, a couple of years ago, was that they were the only player he knew who kept hours as weird as his were. There were worse reasons to form a friendship. Ghost_Boy was a great player, and was always funny in chat. They were upbeat when things went well, and they were sarcastic but not bitter when things went poorly. Playing for the game's sake eventually changed to booting up the game to hang out with Ghost_Boy. They talked about how different their lives were, with Ghost_Boy in the midwest and Tim in the crime capital of America, and they talked about the things they had in common, like falling asleep in class. It was Tim's favorite form of stress relief, back then, when being Robin was new and overwhelming.

Then Tim got busy. No, that wasn't true—Tim had always been busy. More like, Tim's life fell to shambles, over and over again, and he stopped making time for stress relief when the very concept seemed out of his reach.

That was over dramatic. Tim fell off the game, and didn't keep in contact with his friend. That's all there was to it.

That was all there was to it, until a few nights ago, when he booted up his old Doomed file for nostalgia's sake and found a message from Ghost_Boy, sent a couple months back, that said he was planning to move to Gotham and, if Tim wanted, he'd be happy to meet up.

Tim immediately replied in the affirmative, and then he freaked out that he'd done that and started cyber stalking the guy. He couldn’t be bothered to pretend to be embarrassed by this behavior. He knew who he was.

Daniel Fenton was, in fact, a real teenager from a real midwestern town (Amity Park, Illinois.) He had moved to Gotham right when his message said he would, and lived with his older sister, Jasmine (who had custody over him,) and his younger sister, Danielle.

And that was where Tim was planning to stop his research, for the sake of his friend's privacy. Once he confirmed that he wasn't being catfished by either a supervillain or a run-of-the-mill creep, he was going to stop looking.

But Danielle Fenton's situation was incredibly weird.

Apparently, she had never lived with Daniel, Jasmine, and their parents before. Instead, after she was born, she'd been adopted by the kids’ godfather, eccentric billionaire Vlad Masters, and he was still her legal guardian. It was only after the Doctors Jack and Madeline died that she moved in with her siblings and started attending Gotham Academy, states away from her adoptive parent.

Vlad Masters was a man of eclectic tastes. The stories about him in the news were always covering some weird investment he had made, like purchasing a cheese castle in Wisconsin, or buying up property in Green Bay just to have a stake in the Packers, or pouring money into experimental forms of alternative energy. He was always refined in his public appearances, but he had the desperate edge of new money wanting to fit in with the old. Tim knew of him, but had never given him much thought before. He'd never made a move into Gotham, after all.

But the whole story was bizarre. Masters had gone to college with the Fentons, the three of them creating their own field of study in “Ectology,” before Masters had been contaminated in a lab accident, bedridden and unable to finish his degree. Jack and Maddie had continued their research, garnering just enough interest in their work to receive the funding needed to keep afloat, until some sort of breakthrough a few years ago added validity to their theories. They were practically celebrities in the niche forums Tim skimmed through. Masters, meanwhile, stopped working directly in the sciences and instead turned to networking, gaining some generous help from the friends he made and playing the stock market like a fiddle, until he was one of the most well known and lucrative investors in the world. He owned a few companies publicly, and managed some others under the table (Tim had to snort at the ridiculous naming of Dalv Co.)

And then the Fentons had kids, and they raised two of them (seemingly quite happily, if the photos on their memorialized facebook accounts meant anything.) And then, for some reason, they named the third one nearly identically to their second child and gave her straight to Vlad. Masters raised the girl in Wisconsin, until suddenly relocating to Amity Park and becoming the town's mayor. There he stayed, until the Fenton's recent passing in a lab accident of their own.

Tim doesn't know what it all adds up to. But there was something going on, with both Vlad Masters and the Fentons, and if there's something nefarious in Masters’ actions or his wealth, it could be entirely possible that Daniel was a plant—a way for him to get an in with the Waynes. Tim has to be cautious, and he has to get to the bottom of this.

That's why Tim is waiting in a coffee shop, pretending to be engrossed in his laptop while keeping an eye on the door, waiting for the appearance of a teen with black hair and blue eyes.

Tim idly thinks that Bruce had better not adopt this one.

#i wanted to write the next section before posting this but it's been sitting in my wips for months at this point so #hopefully I'll get to it and there will be a part 2 with an introductory segment like this for each of the fentons #because i think it does work better with their context also #I have Dan's done and I love it so much #Damian calls Dani 'Fenton' or 'Danielle' but please know that for the purposes of this au she's 'Dani' because it makes the situation funny #speaking of which if anyone didn't get what jason was going on about #Jazz talks about Dan Danny and Dani to him but has never bothered to specify that she has three siblings #Leading Jason to assume that they are all one person who is gender fluid because he's heard Jazz use he/him she/her and they/them #yes this is relevant to the hypothetical future identity shenanigans #this au is such a mess lololololol #oh shit right I should add actual tags and not just commentary #danny phantom #dc #batfam #dpxdc #dp x dc #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #danny fenton #danielle phantom #jazz fenton #dan phantom #oh boy time for ship names #anger management #brain dead #double edged sword #first failures #my writing

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madamechrissy · 2 days ago

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Baby You're No Good - part four Preview

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

CW -Spoilers- don't read if you haven't read part three - heavy, heavy fucking angst, sexual connotations. Will be out this week <3

Preview below

He lets out a shaky breath, cupping your face gently, something Suguru Geto just did not do. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark with pupils dilated, glimmering with something you would almost think were tears, but there was no way, was there? No way that Suguru Geto could truly feel, not this cult leader who has lost his mind, who you’re clinging to just glimpses of currently.

His breath ghosts across your sore, bitten lips, thumb swiping away a tear that falls without you truly knowing, brushing the salty tear across the apple of your cheek, his other hand drifting down your back. It’s too intimate, it’s too sweet of a way to touch you, causing you to break apart piece by piece, hands that had clutched to fists on his robes releasing their grip, your head tilting down.

“Don’t do this, Suguru.” Your words strike him like a stab to the chest, your teary eyes looking back up at him, hair falling softly to the side, brushing against his arm softly, while he pulls you closer.

“There’s a good chance Satoru will kill me.” His words are flat, matter of fact, as if you’re having a conversation about tea, not murder. Your heart thuds in your chest as he speaks. “I may not come back.”

“You’re choosing this, instead of me. Instead of us.” Your hand goes to your tummy, vivid images of it growing in his mind, of seeing your glow, seeing a smile, and not the pain that he brings instead.

If he wasn’t so selfish, he’d let you escape.

“I’ll make sure you and the baby are taken care of, if I don’t return. I have things set in place-”

“No, no! You think they won’t kill me without the connection of being your wife?” You’re pulling away, but Suguru is dragging you back against his chest, sighing, brows drawing together while the girl he loves looks so hopeless.

“I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Just choose me. Choose us. Stop this madness, it’s not who you are-”

“You do not know me.” His dark tone takes over, earning you shoving at his chest, turning away, only for him to drag you back against him, pressing your back against his hard frame, an arm coming around to wrap you tighter.

“You won’t let me, you won’t let anyone. I miss my family, I miss my friends, yet you keep me trapped here, and now you won’t even choose me?”

“I would choose you, over anyone. You’re… beautiful-”

“No. Do not.” You’re wriggling in his hold, as his big palm presses against your tummy now, and you’re sniffling tears of fury, chest heaving when he turns your face towards him, hand gripping your face even tighter.

“You are. Allow me this night with you, even if it’s just me drinking all of you up.” Your sobs make you shaky, when he grips you right between your thighs, pressing up against your heat, eliciting a whine he shouldn’t deserve.

“Allow what, you to fuck me before you go on a murder rampage!?”

“No. Allow me to do what I should have with you.” He turns you now, picking you up like it’s nothing despite your struggling, gently lowering you on the bed, watching you avidly as his fingers trail down the silk brocade of your robes. “Allow me to worship you for tonight.”

“Worship a human? Before you end us all?” Your hesitation waivers with every moment that Suguru lays on you, every gentle brush of his rough fingertips on your skin, while violet eyes grow deeper, more vulnerable. For a moment you see it, you see him, the dream that you believe in so foolishly.

“I will never end you. You are my only exception.” His whisper breaks you into pieces, his hand unknotting the ties of your obi, letting that purple silk fall against the bed with a whisper, baring a breast as he presses the material apart.

“Exception?” Your little breathy voice ignites too much in him, his lips hovering over yours, while his thumb brushes a sensitive peak, heat pooling in your tummy so unwillingly, fingers itching to entangle in his silken raven locks.

“You’re the exception.” He repeats, hand gripping a breast now, squishing in his huge hands, eliciting the cry from your pretty lips, as he instead wishes to say more.

That he’s fallen.

But how can he ever truly love someone?

If he did- he’d let you go, not take such liberties he knows he does not truly deserve from you. “It’s your choice, if you want to share this last night with me.”

“Oh I get a choice in something now?” Your words hurt, but they’re true, as your own hand slips to your robe, parting it fully and revealing your gorgeous body to his fiery gaze, making Suguru falter. “One last time then.”

“One last time.”

Ahhhh :'( This chapter will be rough. So remember there will be two endings - one sad/one happy after this chapter. I will try to have them out together if I can! This is set right before Suguru's march of a thousand curses.

Perm Tags: @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @naomi-main @fairygardenprincesss @estrellaexists @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143

#suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #suguru geto angst #suguru geto smut #clan leader geto #cult leader geto #story preview #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 1 day ago

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i can def see voodoo!reader not being herself ever again if she cannot practice her true self. image her losing everything, her sparks and the batfamily reaction??

they will never see that smile again.

they are just a empty shell

I feel like the Batfam will try to mirror her religion as hard as they can, so you can do your ceremonies, pray to your lwa, offer food, and dance for your altar. You’re most likely to wake up early before everyone else to dance for Bondye as the morning sun rises, not just to praise your lord or expel your amulet of darkness, but to avoid Bruce and the others. It's like a game of cat and mouse; you have to escape them at all costs. But soon they figure out your morning dancing, and by the goddesses, now you're dancing for them every early morning, like a little puppet on a string—maybe a wind-up ballerina in a box—except they won't stop winding you up. Bruce will find a new dress for you to wear, the most luxurious one he can find. He knows you dance for Erzulie, so why not wear something expensive to show how much you care? Not because he wants to see a little girl in a dress he picked out for her. Dick, oh god, might just be the worst out of them; he'll brag about you like you're some kind of mythical creature, like you're out of this world. You’re not. He's so invested in your life that he's starting to invade your personal space. He's the reason why you can't dance in the morning anymore. Jason, my god, he's controlling. If you see someone playing on the drums in the Gotham subway and you're feeling the beat, you start dancing. Then a group surrounds you, clapping on beat with the drums. You use your dress as a way to guide your movements. You're having so much fun until you see a tall man in a red hoodie staring at you with those bright green eyes. You drop your dress to your sides and immediately stop moving, saying "sorry" in a soft voice and running over to Jason. If you didn't know any better, he looks like he might shoot up the whole subway. Tim, oh, he's getting bad at hiding his newfound obsession—YOU. He installed cameras all around the manor. If you're cleaning up with Alfred while listening to music, he’ll see you do some freestyle dances. It’s even better when you think no one’s around, so you blast music in your room, but there’s a camera there. He’s laughing as he watches his baby sis dance her heart out. He'll never share these videos with the fam; they're for him and only him—his pretty bird in a cage. Duke will learn how to dance or drum just so you don't have to go to your temple. Sometimes he goes off beat since he's so busy watching you; it makes you misstep, and you fall on your butt laughing. Now Duke’s obsession is getting worse. Sometimes he picks up the pace or slows it down just to watch you stumble; that way, he has an excuse to help you up or make your time at the manor longer. His little sis is struggling with the dances; he has to help, or else how will she become high priestess? But behind that sweet smile, as his strong hands help you up, he’s going behind your back to elder mambo, telling them you’re not capable of being high priestess if you can’t get the dance right. Don’t be mad; he’s looking after you. Damian, good goddesses, he's acting like a little boy. "'Ukht story please," he says in a sweet voice, pulling on your dress. You can't even notice his yandere tendencies, but they're strong. He's acting like a sweet little boy sitting on your lap as you tell him the story of the Great Bondye. He’s staring at you the whole time. "'Ukht stay still; I want to paint you." He draws you like a goddess dancing in the hot rain. He'll sit in your lap at breakfast, sticking his tongue out at the others. But don’t be fooled by that cute face; he’s just as bad. These boys are tiring, Indra. You have no time to clear out your amulet of darkness, and you're missing your church and your lwa. You need a long break before you go insane. You miss your mambo, the girls you used to dance with, the marching parade—you miss it all. Oh, great Bondye, whatever will you do? The serpents are sucking you dry of all your love and joy; they're ruining you. But what the lwa value more is family. Should you stick to family?

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fairyhaos · 23 hours ago

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◈ over the hills and far away // boo seungkwan

seungkwan x gn!reader, 2.1k+ words

tags: requested by anon and @raevyng, established relationship, fluff, picnics, ducks, spring, cw for food mentions

notes: is that nursery rhyme reference in the title? why yes. yes it is. also this is pure 100% rambly fluff lol enjoy

summary: you and seungkwan go on a picnic date out to the park. that's it, thats the fic.

“did you know,” you say conversationally, swinging a basket by your side, “that ducks are partially nocturnal?”

seungkwan, walking side by side with you down the pavement, smiles and shakes his head. “no way. have you seen a duck before? they're the most non-nocturnal birds you'll ever see.”

you laugh, tugging seungkwan into your side by your intertwined hands. “well, they're not fully nocturnal. they're just often active at night also, ‘cause… hm, actually i don't know why. but i do know they like hunting and stuff at night because they have great night vision.”

a look of horror dawns over your boyfriend's face. “so i can still get chased by ducks even in the middle of the night?”

“just stay indoors at night, babe.”

“what?! so now the ducks are locking me inside my house?”

seungkwan wrinkles his nose in distaste, dramatically horrified by this revelation, before you laugh again and his face melts into a smile. he doesn't actually have anything against ducks, but he likes making you laugh.

today, the two of you are out on a date. nothing special, but the weather is finally, finally warming up after what felt like the longest winter ever, and so you've decided to have a picnic date with your boyfriend in the park, under the blue sky and among the green grass.

seungkwan's quite excited about this date, to be honest. he hates the cold months, so march is always like a godsend to him. and to top it all off, he's spending time with you, the literal love of his life. nothing can be better than that.

“hey, don't swing the basket like that! be careful, you're going to ruin the apple pie i made,” seungkwan complains, just as the two of you arrive at the park.

you look down at the basket, peering inside it worriedly. “it's fine,” you reassure. “also, what do you mean? we made this pie together.”

“you mean you bought the pastry and then sat there twiddling your thumbs whilst i did the actual baking?”

you beam brightly. “but i looked so pretty while you baked, didn't i?”

seungkwan rolls his eyes, fond. “i suppose.” he looks out at the park, surveying the green area. “where do you wanna sit, by the way?”

“oh!” your eyes light up, and you tug on your intertwined hands towards the willow trees framing the pond on the other side of the park. “come on. let's go over there.”

you make your way across the park, and once a spot has been found that you deem acceptable, seungkwan spreads out the picnic blanket he was carrying and then takes the basket from your hands, taking out all the food as you remove your shoes and kneel on the blanket.

“be careful,” you echo his words from earlier, when seungkwan lifts the apple pie out of the weave basket. “you’re going to ruin the apple pie you made.”

seungkwan raises an eyebrow at you, unimpressed, and you giggle.

“c'mon, kwan,” you say, shuffling forward, crossing your legs, “quick, get out the food. there's bread inside, and i wanna feed it to the ducks.”

at that moment, seungkwan fishes out the bag of bread, and your face lights up. you make a move to grab it from him, but he instantly draws back, holding up a hand to stop you.

“hey, hey, not yet,” he says, when you pout at him. “let’s eat first, hm? then you can feed the ducks as much as you want.” he gestures to the food he’s already taken out of the basket. “i worked so hard to prepare all of this, i don’t want it to just sit here sadly whilst you do something else.”

he looks genuinely very sad as he says this, corners of his mouth turned downwards at an adorable angle as his eyes melt with disappointment. you smile, endeared, happily settling down next to him again with a placating kiss on his cheek.

“okay, babe. let’s eat the food we made.”

“uh, actually, i made most of it.”

“nonsense. i had the very important role of sitting there and looking pretty.”

───────────── ‘🌿,

if anyone asked you, you'd say that this outing, this activity right now—the sitting out in the park, eating sandwiches with your boyfriend underthe big willow tree—is actually part 2 of your date which started, like, a week ago.

you've been patiently waiting (or, impatiently waiting, in seungkwan's opinion) for the weather to clear up so you can finally go out on that picnic date that you've been dying to have for ages. having a picnic with your boyfriend (a.k.a the most wonderful person on the planet) on a lovely pleasant day sounds like heaven, and you know that seungkwan feels the same way.

(that's kind of why the two of you work so well together. you're kind of telepathically linked.)

and so, when you'd checked the forecast a week ago and seen that today would be a delightfully sunny day, you'd jumped at the chance to finally begin preparing for the perfect park picnic date. in your opinion, there are very few things that are better than getting to sit and talk and eat with seungkwan as the spring breeze rustles the leaves on the trees and the sun shines merrily down on you. so for the past week, you've been very busily preparing for this date.

for example, the spread of cheese and crackers you're currently feeding seungkwan? you cut them into flower shapes with him five whole days ago.

“is it good?” you ask, as seungkwan chews thoughtfully through his mouthful, half of the cracker still in your hands.

“not bad,” he says, slightly muffled, wiping the crumbs from his lips. “i liked the cranberry cheese more, though.”

your eyes light up, and you feed seungkwan the rest of the cracker. “right? i thought so too! let's buy more of the cranberry cheddar later.”

the two of you have been working on all this food for a week, together, and in your honest opinion, that time spent together counts as part 1 of your date. it's just… all quality time spent with seungkwan counts as a date, you think. you just love doing anything with him.

currently, most of the food you've prepared is pretty much gone. both of you are pretty big eaters, and the pleasant weather has only increased your appetite. there's only the apple pie left.

“alright,” seungkwan says, once the two of you have had time to fully prepare yourselves for the main event. he really did work hard on this pie, and he'll be damned if you don't get to appreciate it to its fullest. “i hope you're ready for the best thing you've ever had in your entire life.”

you laugh, adjusting yourself on the picnic blanket as seungkwan brandishes a serrated knife at the apple pie. it really is such a pretty creation, and you praise him for it now as he cuts you a slice.

“you really worked so hard, i'm so proud of you,” you coo, smiling when his ears instantly turn red at the compliments. “this looks gorgeous, my love. i can't believe you did this.”

“well you better believe it, ‘cause i did,” seungkwan says, face red but his eyes shining. he places a slice onto your plate at the same time as he places a kiss onto the top of your hair. “and i hope it tastes as good as it looks, else i'm throwing myself into the pond.”

you laugh, picking up your place and inspecting the slice carefully. “have more faith in yourself, kwan. i'm sure this tastes amazing.”

with that, you lift your fork and take a bite of the pie, chewing very slowly as seungkwan watches you, expression pensive and anxious.

your face freezes mid-bite, turning wide eyes to seungkwan and he freezes too, scared. you slowly resume chewing, and then after what feels like an eternity, you swallow and clear your throat.

“oh my god. kwan, that's amazing.”

his face melts in relief so prominent that it's almost tangible, and you laugh.

“you made me so worried there!” he complains, finally relaxed enough to finish cutting himself a slice. “i thought i did really badly or something.”

“of course not,” you say, still laughing as you continue eating your slice. “it's delicious. i love it so much.”

he smiles at you, your cheeks full of his pastry, your eyes crinkled with joy that he instilled in you. “and i love you so much.”

your face contorts at that, somewhere between cringing and cooing at his words. “baby, that's so cheesy!”

“i can't help it,” he says, smiling. “you bring out the sap in me.” and then seungkwan takes a bite of his own pie, and he does a double take in amazement. “oh my—wow. this really is amazing.”

he's looking at you in disbelief, and you can't help but beam back.

“i told you. i love it so much.”

seungkwan's eyes crinkle, overjoyed.

───────────── ‘🌿,

“okay, so can i go feed the ducks now?”

after polishing off your second slice of apple pie, you're now more than ready to finally give the lovely ducks some of your attention now too. seungkwan looks up at your question from where he's tidying away the cutlery, and nods with a dramatic sigh.

“i guess. i guess you can leave your boyfriend to go throw bread at some ducks, if that's what you really—”

“awesome! you're the best!”

you grab the bag of bread before seungkwan can even finish, shuffling over to the side of the picnic blanket to get your shoes. he rolls his eyes in faux exasperation at your excitement, before moving over to you also.

“wait, y/n.”

you look up as he nears you, before he leans down, closer to your face, and the pad of his thumb swipes over the skin on the side of your mouth. he pulls away, looking terribly pleased with himself.

“you had some apple sauce on your face,” he says, all sweet, as if your face isn't burning from that one simple gesture.

“woah,” you say softly, dumbfounded. “that was so smooth.”

seungkwan laughs, incredibly delighted with your reaction. he leans in a presses a swift kiss to your cheek. “off you go,” he says brightly. “you can go feed your ducks now.”

you blink rapidly at him, looking like you're in a daze, before a slow smile spreads across your face and you reach over to peck him on the mouth.

“if you're going to kiss me, do it right,” you say, smiling, before jumping up and running off to the pond.

seungkwan watches you go, a smile on his face and his heart in your hands, so devastatingly fond that it makes his chest hurt. and then he turns back to continue packing away the picnic, pulse singing in his ears.

you're the sweetest, loveliest person he's ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he's so lucky to love you. everything you do is just so—kind, so sweet, so full of affection and it has him melting.

like this date, for example. you've been so excited to go out with him now the weather's finally turned, and he's had so much fun prepping for it with you. for any other couple, going to the park and having a picnic wouldn't be such a big deal, but it is for you: partially because it's something you love, but also because you know seungkwan will love it too.

he loves how you pay attention to those kinds of details, how you light up his day by being so passionate and so kind.

he feels so lucky to love you, because truly, he loves you so much.

“ah!”

your panicked scream makes him look up, and he sees you whirling around to face him, an incredulous look on your face.

“seungkwan! the duck just stole the bread right from my hands!”

you look so wronged, like the duck has committed an unspeakable crime, and seungkwan can only laugh, endeared.

“clearly they don't appreciate you,” he calls. “unlike me. come back to me and don't pay attention to the ducks anymore.”

in an instant, your face brightens into a brilliant beam.

“okay!’ you say, and come skipping back to the picnic blanket, situating yourself at seungkwan's side, resting your cheek against his shoulder, asking him about what else there is in the basket.

and there, under the sun with your laughter warm in his ears, seungkwan feels perfectly content.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery @aaa-sia

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renae-nicole-lynn · 2 days ago

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Invincible x Frankenstein’s Monster!Reader

(GIFS are not mine)

So 'Why Him?' did pretty well, and it turns out I missed writing fanfiction so I decided to try my hand at some other Mark x Reader stuff. Holy fuck this is so bad I am so sorry 🫠.

Originally I thought of idea as an OC but I can’t draw for shit so Reader it is!

Why Frankenstein's Creature/The Bride? Best explanation I can come up with is watching Creature Commandos and Invincible in a short timespan 🤷‍♀️. I took inspiration from a couple of different Frankenstein's Monster/The Bride tropes from different sources and squished them all together; so that means white streaks in your hair and scars/stitches hold your limbs together and your powers are super strength, enhanced intelligence, and the ability to detach your limbs from your body and retain sentience over them.

The first time you saw him, you were perched on top of a building picking off the flaxan invaders with a rifle as they streamed through the portal and you see him through your scope. He's familiar to you, but in the moment the 'why and where' wasn't important as Atom Eve yelled at him to take the civilian in his arms to the hospital. It's not until three days later when he approaches Eve at school does it click. You've seen him around school for years, and only now does he have super powers; Mark Grayson is [title card].

Things are a little… rocky at first. You think he’s too easily influenced by his father and he thinks you’re out of your mind for that. Poor Eve is forced to play referee as arguments start spilling into the hero side of things, but even your best friend couldn’t get through you, or him for that matter.

“Why don’t hate me so much!?”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t hate you!”

You’d be a hypocrite if you did.

Mark crossed his arms. “Bullshit!”

“I don’t… you piss me off because I know you have the potential to be so good, probably one of the best! But you’re too caught up in being just like daddy dearest!”

He started floating. “My dad is one of the best.”

…you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t attack you here in a high school lab, but that doesn’t stop your fists from clenching. “So that means what? You’re content on being a copy of your father instead of your own person?”

“I am my own person!”

“Bullshit!”

“Who’s going to teach me then, you?”

“You bet your ass I will! 5:00pm at Teen Team headquarters!”

“Fine!”

You didn’t really mean to offer to teach him, but your offer stayed in the front of your mind as you punched away at one of the punching bags engineered for your strength. It's not like he's going to show up. Except he did, and you were surprised he even showed up around the time you gave... granted, ten minutes late.

Mark doesn't know why he showed up. Maybe it was a pride thing, maybe it was because of what you said. He came in almost shyly, asking if you really think he could be one of the best. You surprise both him and yourself with how quickly you reaffirm what you said before.

"Just because I do though, doesn't mean I'm going take it easy on you."

He kind of scoffed when you said this. "No offence, but I have super strength."

"Oh no way." You crack your knuckles with a grin. "So do I. Keep fighting until tap out?"

"You're on!"

You won, mostly because you managed to outmaneuver him.

Mark stayed on the ground when you realeased him from the hold you had him in. "So did you do all this to kick my ass?"

You scoff and drag a hand through your hair. "No, just seeing what I have to work with... I'm not saying learning from your dad is a bad thing." Oh how wrong you were. "But knowing different disciplines is going to help you in the long run."

He... didn't quite know what to say to that. In a way, what you were saying was similar to what his mother has been telling him and his father for years. "Same time next week?"

From there the two of you come to an agreement; the two of you spar together and you stay off each other's cases in civilian life. Plain and simple right? Wrong.

In civilian life, the two of you end up gravitating towards each other. Turns out you can find that you have a lot in common with someone when you're not constantly at each other's throats (comic books of all things, ya freakin' nerds). Before you know it, you can comfortably call him a friend, much to Eve's delight.

It's not long before the two of you hang out together outside of the supersuits, whether you're just walking around town or going to the comic book stores for the latest issues of your respective favorites. You tease him for Seance Dog and he teases you for your favorite.

You roll your eyes as you (carefully) snatch the issue back from him. "Don't knock it 'til you try it."

"Only if you read at least one issue of Seance Dog."

"...Fine."

He grinned brightly cutely as the two of you traded comic books “Fine!”

At some point, you do show him the rest of your abilities. He’s amazed by your intelligence, but lowkey freaks out when you casually pop your hand off your wrist and subtly let it drop to the floor. He can only watch in horrified amazement as your hand uses your fingers to scuttle along the ground and up your leg so you can reattach it. The look on his face when you yanked your head clean off your shoulders was absolutely priceless and you may or may not have a picture of it.

The two of you begin confiding in each other. He tells you about Viltrum and how he doesn't know how to live up to the legacy, to which you reiterated that just being himself should be enough and if his father or other viltrumites thought otherwise they can fuck right off. Oh the way he looked at you when you said that…

You tell him how you were created, your subsequent abandonment, and how you had to learn everything from scratch. Mark tries to ignore the white hot anger because who the fuck would just abandon you like that?! The person he's gotten to know over the last few months, as hidden as your kind heart is, you didn't deserve that. When he tells you as much, something in your eyes shifts and (surprising you both) you shyly squeeze his hand in thanks but say nothing else. Neither of you pull away for a very long time .

Realization hits for the both of you when you’re running along rooftops for patrol and swan dive off a skyscraper. You never like talking about your past, it always put you in a bad headspace. So maybe you let yourself get a little too close to the ground, not that it would have killed you you’ve tried that and other ways with obvious results. You had your grappling line ready, but before you could fire it at the next building, Mark appears out of nowhere and all but plucks you out of the air before flying to the top of the closest building.

You blink in shock at your friend as he sets you on your feet but doesn’t take his hands off your hips. “Hi?”

Even with the goggles you knew his eyes were staring deep into yours. “You’re not disposable.”

“What are you-”

His grip ever-so-slightly tightened. “You mean a lot to people; Eve, the Guardians-”

You grimaced at that. “I’m pretty sure the Guardians old or new couldn’t give-"

“Will you please let me finish?!” Something in the way his voice cracked kept you from saying anything else, and he paused before continuing on. “You mean a lot to me… If you ever feel like this again, you call me. Call me and I’ll be there.”

Your heart started doing a weird dance in your chest, and you tried to bring yourself back to reality. “You mean a lot to me too. But we’re heroes, Mark. You can’t just promise that.”

Something clicked for Mark then. Getting to know you, speed running to a level of trust and vulnerability that usually took years to get to within the span of a few months, what else was there to say? “Fine, then we’ll just have to stick together.”

Oh.

It clicked for you then. This boy trusts and cares about you. He cares about your physical and emotional wellbeing and whether or not you were safe, and seems hellbent on ensuring it.

You hug him close, burying your face in his shoulder when he hugs you back.

“Okay.”

Everything and nothing changed. Despite the words and actions shared on the rooftop that evening, you both carried on as usual… save for now always being together for hero work and the emotional tension in the air.

True to the nature of your relationship leading up to this point, both of you were waiting for the other to crack. Remember the flirty sparring matches comment I made on 'Why Him'? As Mark gets better with hand-to-hand and the two of you find a flow when sparring together, a few teasing comments from the both of you are thrown here and there until eventually the two of you are point blank flirting.

Later, you'll insist he was the one who said it first and he'll argue right back that you were the one to say it.

"Loser kisses the winner?"

"You're on.”

#invincible #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x general neutral reader #mark grayson x male reader #mark grayson x female reader #invincible x reader #i actually hate this

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megalony · 23 hours ago

Text

Sealed Their Fates

This is a new Tobias Eaton/ Four imagine for the Divergent fandom. I hope you will all like it, thank you for the amazing feedback on my first Four imagine.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585 @nickie-amore @elliott-calls @person-005

Main Masterlist

Summary: Everyone in Dauntless knows of (Y/n)'s relationship with Four, but some think that it gives her an unfair advantage. When they try and hurt (Y/n), she doesn't feel safe in her faction anymore.

Enjoy.

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Closing her eyes, (Y/n) tilted her head back when she felt a pair of arms encase around her middle. She let her head fall back onto a firm shoulder and her hands slid down to hold onto the wrists resting over her waist.

She didn't have to look to know who it was behind her. The arms around her were familiar, like a safety blanket. The firm chest that was now glued up against her back was a comfort like no other and the pair of lips that hovered over the shell of her ear were another familiar sense.

Tobias.

"Morning," His voice was gritty and low against her ear and (Y/n) slouched back against him a little more. Grinning to herself when she felt Tobias lean back too until his shoulders were pressed up against the stone wall behind them.

"Hi." It was getting routine to keep her voice quiet when they found little moments like these.

It wasn't necessarily a secret that the pair of them had found solace and comfort in each other.

Others had noticed the way that Four would smile towards (Y/n) whereas he would generally be cold and ruthless towards anyone else. They had seen him take her hand and interlock their fingers, and they noticed that Four wasn't the instructor who trained (Y/n). He wouldn't do that; he wouldn't train the girl he had fallen for, not when he knew people would turn against her and accuse him of giving her points and helping her stay in Dauntless.

That didn't mean to say that Tobias wouldn't help train her late into the night when no one else was around. And he would give her tips and pointers and tell her how to outsmart the others, but he wouldn't do any of that in public, and he certainly wouldn't go around giving her any points.

They didn't hide what they had, but they didn't display it either. Quiet moments together in the mornings like this and little interludes wherever they could was what they decided to do until (Y/n) made it as a fully fledged member of Dauntless.

"You okay?" Tobias kept his lips hovering over (Y/n)'s ear while his hand smoothed up and down (Y/n)'s sternum like he was drawing aimless patterns into her shirt.

She nodded to his words, nudging the tip of her nose against his neck before she angled her head better so she could lean over and kiss him. She liked the way his arms tightened around her, like he was making sure she stayed right where she was and didn't dare pull out of his embrace for a moment. And the feeling of his palms pressing down into her sternum and waist made butterflies swarm through her system.

Sometimes (Y/n) wished it could be like this all the time. She wished she could lean against Tobias or take his hand or walk around with him and no one would bat an eyelid or make a bad comment.

And maybe after the initiates were all chosen and blended into Dauntless, after the dust settled and there was no more competing to stay and for status, things would change. (Y/n) was sure they would. She was sure that things would settle down, that they would all find their own rooms after they were fully fledged members of the faction. They would partner off and find their best suited jobs and no one would care that (Y/n) and Tobias were together.

She just hoped that it wouldn't feel like a lifetime to get to that point.

It proved to be some effort to turn around in his tight embrace, but (Y/n) managed the small task and looped her arms around the back of his neck. Her fingers brushed against the short gazed hairs at the back of his head and she let her chest slouch into his chest, effectively pinning Tobias between her and the wall. Not that he minded at all, he seemed happy to be sandwiched up against her in the corridor. Especially since they were alone without any onlookers.

"What're you thinking?" Tobias's words were hushed and (Y/n) barely heard them when he spoke with his lips so close to hers that they were almost touching.

Their noses brushed and she could feel his temple resting against hers, but it was the feeling of those cold lips hovering less than a centimetre away from hers that made (Y/n)'s knees want to give in. She pushed up on her toes, keeping her chest merged with his as her arms tightened slightly around his neck and her eyes creased with a smile.

"Just that I can't wait for training to be over."

(Y/n) knew being in Dauntless meant endless training, they would never stop, per say. They would always be training and running and fighting and sharpening their skills. But at least they wouldn't be fighting against one another, they wouldn't be opposites anymore. They would all be working together as a group, a family, a faction. That was the goal and (Y/n) wanted to skip this tournament of sorts and be at that point.

She felt Tobias sigh down at her with that half smile pulling at his lips and one arched brow. He knew how she felt, he had never been worried about his training, he had beaten all others in his group, including Eric with no problems. But he was desperate now for (Y/n) to make it through this phase with no problems.

"Me too." His words were nothing more than a whisper on the wind and (Y/n) managed to catch a glimmer of a smile pulling on his lips before she moved one hand to cradle the side of his face.

Her fingers danced a pattern on his cheek and (Y/n) pressed another kiss too his lips, savouring the cold touch and the feeling of Tobias tightening his hand around her hip. They didn't have long before they would have to go. They needed to go to the training room and begin their day, and that meant the start of the rest of the day without being too close to one another.

Another hint of a smile traced over Tobias's lips when he felt (Y/n) murmur "I'm not ready," against his mouth that was savouring her touch and stealing as many elicit kisses as he could manage.

His nose pressed against hers and his lips felt positively bruised in the best way when they finally parted. He allowed himself to lean his cheek into her palm that was cradling his face and shivers coursed up and down his skin from her touch.

"There aren't any fights scheduled for today, just remember what I taught you in training, and you'll be fine."

There was something about the coy grin that lit up (Y/n)'s face which made Tobias intrigued. He arched a brow and squinted down at her, wondering why that look had suddenly flooded her eyes and why she had such a grin all of a sudden.

"Hm, I might need a refresher course on that training."

"Oh really?" He couldn't help but laugh and he kept his cheek leaning into her palm which thankfully hadn't moved away from his face yet. He quite liked the touch. "We'll have to train later then to remind you, won't we?"

It wasn't wrong, not technically when anyone could ask for help with training and anyone could put the hours in to do more. (Y/n) wanted to do better, she wanted to have a better shot at staying in Dauntless and doing the best she possibly could, and Tobias was giving her hints. He watched her practice and told her what she could do to improve. He helped her straighten her frame and improve her throw and taut her how to duck and punch better.

It was the same hints and pointers that he gave to anyone he was instructing, it just happened to be late on in the evening when everyone else gave up to rest.

"Suppose we'd better go." Surprise flooded through (Y/n) when Tobias leaned down to snag another kiss from her lips and he pushed off the wall until he was practically pushing down onto her instead.

Neither of them wanted to part and head off into the training area, into the room that would be flooded with the rest of their faction. But they didn't have much of a choice. This was their faction and they had to make themselves useful, after all.

It was comforting to feel Tobias slip his hand into hers and the feeling of his fingers tapping against the back of her hand was comforting.

When he stood- or rather towered- beside her it felt like (Y/n) had a protective armor around her. The way his shoulder brushed against hers, how tense his arms felt, the sound of his leather boots hitting the stone floor, it was all dominating and overpowering in the best possible way.

It wasn't until they actually reached the training room that the aura seemed to change and (Y/n) felt like she was three inches tall. She barely felt Tobias give her hand a squeeze like he was trying to give her some of his courage.

Eyes were upon them immediately. Some just glances, some long stares and some with pits of jealousy that (Y/n) could feel burning through her skin.

She wanted to shrink in on herself and become invisible, but that wasn't what a Dauntless would do and she didn't have to feel this way.

She felt Tobias give her hand another squeeze so tight he almost cut off the circulation to her fingers. And he leaned down to murmur "Good luck," in her ear because he knew training was as hard and draining as it was rewarding. And with his head angled down, he managed to press a kiss to the back of her head without anyone noticing.

The moment his hand slipped from hers and (Y/n) heard his footsteps retreating, she suddenly felt cold. But she tried to brush it off, shaking the feeling away as she rolled her shoulders and clicked her neck into place.

She wanted to work on her throwing and her aim today, especially since there weren't any fights lined up so there was no imposing need to work on her punches and her balance.

She took a deep breath, sinking her teeth down into her bottom lip when she approached the targets and noticed a few of the other initiates hovering around. One of them happened to be Peter. (Y/n) wasn't sure why, but he had taken an instant disliking to her. He liked to make jibes and jokes and play the tormenter.

Nothing to serious which (Y/n) suspected was because he got his fair share of irritating and pushing her buttons when they were paired up to fight.

"Where's your loverboy, stiff?" Peter clasped his hands behind his back and took a look around but he missed Tobias who mingled in with the other initiates near the climbing ropes in the far corner.

"Where's your girlfriend, Pete?"

(Y/n) didn't bother looking up at him as she spoke. He could be as crude and annoying as he wanted, she would simply respond and annoy him back until he stopped. He could try and make jokes about her relationship with Tobias as much as he liked, (Y/n) would just make jokes about his love life in response, or lack there of.

Her words made his smile slip into a frown and he looked down at his hands for a moment, clearly irritated that she had quipped back at him so fast.

"Suppose I should fine one soon, preferably an instructor. After all, you got in there quick and ranked up your points." His head ticked towards the scoreboard which showed (Y/n) was two places higher up than Peter. Both of them were in the clear, they weren't in the red on the verge of being factionless, but that could all change. They all knew the scoreboard was changing daily with people improving and slipping all the time.

(Y/n) swiped a pack of four knives up from the table and moved towards a target, taking aim and throwing a knife dead centre into the targets middle where the heart would be.

"Then you'd better hurry Pete. From what I saw, I don't think many girls in here would be pleased with the little you have to offer." She didn't bother to look at him as she spoke. She was only trying to level the playing field and irritate him in the same way he was doing to her.

She threw another knife, but this one didn't hit anywhere on the target when Peter roughly barged his shoulder into her side and knocked her forwards.

A huff escaped her lips and she shook her head to herself, but when she glanced her eyes to the right, they locked on Tobias. His features were ever the same, blank and fierce, warding people to stay away from him and not to bother even trying to strike up a conversation.

But his hands- which were now wrapped in tape around the knuckles, ready for both fighting and climbing the ropes- were balled into fists at his sides. He turned away from the wall and took three strides in (Y/n)'s direction before he stopped.

She shook her head.

He didn't need to do anything. As annoying as Peter was, he was only making jibes, he hadn't done anything that warranted Tobias coming over and giving him the third degree. (Y/n) would rather ignore Peter than have her partner come over and try to sort it for her. She knew he meant well and she knew Tobias would threaten Peter to stay in line like he did with everyone else, but it would be easier to let this one go than to make a fuss.

Tobias took a deep breath, letting his eyes linger on (Y/n) for a few seconds longer as he nodded at her and stepped back. She could hold her own, he knew that, but he didn't want Peter to think he could keep stepping out of line and being rude and get away with it.

If any of the initiates started fights or casting others out when they weren't in the ring, the instructors put a stop to it. Competition was fine as long as it was healthy and in good faith. If Peter really belonged in Dauntless than he had nothing to fear, and no reason to be picking on (Y/n) or anyone else.

(Y/n) kept her eyes on Tobias even after he turned and aimed for the rope again which he wasted no time in climbing like he was desperate to get away from everyone else.

She twirled the knife in her hand between her fingers as she watched him, letting herself relax and bask in the aura Tobias exuded, even from across the room.

Roll on phase two when all the competition would be over.

***

A slight sting burned in (Y/n)'s knuckles and she wrung her hands out at her sides, trying to shake away the dull sting and get the feeling back in her fingers. Most of the day had been spent fighting and (Y/n) could feel the bruises that were no doubt blossoming on her skin beneath her clothes.

Her knuckles had split open, grazes littered her hands and her fingers were practically on fire. She had fought against Peter today, curtesy of Eric who had noticed the pair arguing and getting annoyed with each other and thought a fight between them would air out the tension.

It hadn't.

Peter seemed to lose himself when he lost. (Y/n) had barely managed to win, but when she got Peter in a choke hold and made him blackout, he didn't have a choice but to back out of the fight. He physically couldn't get up and it took him too long to regain his breath back, so Eric called (Y/n) the winner and that was that.

He had stormed off in a rage, kicking anything and everything within sight and cradling his sore neck that had been inflamed red and would be littered with bruises and marks in the morning.

(Y/n) had done her best to stay out of his way since this morning and she was ready to sleep.

She didn't want to bother with any extra training tonight, her hands were too sore and she was too tired. Getting some rest would be a better idea than working herself to the bone and being run down tomorrow. Eric might try and pit her against someone else in a fight tomorrow and (Y/n) would need her energy for that.

Her hand rubbed at the back of her neck which she clicked into place as she slowly aimed down the corridor.

It was a long trek back towards the dorms and it was irritating to have to share a room with over twenty others, but it was only until they had passed. Once their training was over and the select few were included into Dauntless, they would each be able to get their own little apartment like the rest of the faction.

Thank God. (Y/n) was fed up sharing with others, fed up of hearing them snore and the beds creak and people getting up to use the toilet. She was fed up of getting up early to shower before everyone else and trying to change without people peering over to get a look.

Her own room would be a dream compared to what these last few weeks had been like.

All she wanted to do now was climb into her bed and disappear until the morning rolled around.

But as she turned from the corridor and headed towards the next hall, her hands clenched into fists and a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. She found herself stepping towards the wall as if it would provide some kind of safety when she saw who was walking down the hall towards her.

Peter. Followed swiftly by two of his cronies, and all three of them seemed to grin wider when they noticed her; and the fact that she was alone.

"Oh look, it's the stiff."

(Y/n) refrained from rolling her eyes, she didn't need to cause any arguments. It was late, she didn't want to stand around and berate each other when there was no need. He could go his own way and (Y/n) would aim for the dorms and they didn't need to have any interaction at all.

With her head ducked down, (Y/n) stuck close to the wall and tried to walk past them. She jabbed her elbow out to push Peter when he tried to get close. She didn't know what he was trying to do and she didn't want to know either, she just wanted to get away from him.

One of them, she wasn't sure which, tried to grab her wrist, but (Y/n) lashed out and slammed her heel against his inner leg which caused him to stumble.

"Just fuck off." She wasn't in the mood for a fight or an argument, she just wanted to go to sleep.

(Y/n) quickened her steps and veered down the hall with speed, praying that the three of them would just huff and carry on their way. And for a few seconds, she thought they had.

But then they grabbed her.

She hadn't heard them coming up behind her, not until it was too late. An arm deadlocked around her neck causing her to stumble backwards and her head slammed into a bony shoulder. A strangled sound escaped (Y/n)'s lips and she scratched her nails into the arm around her neck, about to lean forward so she could ram her elbow behind her. But her legs were swept from beneath her.

One of them snagged her ankles and heaved her legs up until it felt like she was about to fall down and slam her head into the ground.

A scream burst past her lips as much as she could with the arm pinned to her throat and her shoulders slid down the person's chest behind her until the third boy grappled to hold her waist.

Tears burned in the corners of her eyes which slammed closed as she began to writhe. She didn't quite know what to do to get out of this situation, but (Y/n) did whatever she could think of. She wriggled, she thrust her torso down and tried to whip her legs up in the air so they'd let her go. She shimmied her shoulders, desperate not to land with a bang on her head or back in case she injured herself or knocked herself out.

"Let me go!"

Another scream left her lips and she dug her nails viciously into the arm over her chest, continuing to writhe as the three of them struggled to hurry with her down the corridor. This was clearly an act of opportunity. They hadn't been anticipating this, (Y/n) could tell they were acting in the heat of the moment.

She wouldn't tell. If they put her down and let her go, she wouldn't tell on them and get them dropped down the scoreboard. But she needed them to put her down.

It felt like her lungs had popped when she managed to slam her foot into Alan's chest who was grappling with her legs. He dropped her. As soon as he did, the other two couldn't hold her up on their own and (Y/n) went down to the stone floor with such a bang she feared she had left a crack in the floor. Her lungs struggled to restart themselves and she laid gasping like a fish out of water.

Her eyes stung as she struggled to hold back her tears that were more out of pain than fear. And her lungs startled once again when a rough hand fisted in her hair and yanked her head back.

Her grazed hands scoured against the floor and her elbows straightened out as she tried to hold herself up while Peter yanked her head back so she was looking up at him. While he crouched down beside her, leaning so close he was sneering and almost spitting at her.

"You're putting out for him, that's why you're fifteen on the scoreboard."

Shivers coursed up and down (Y/n)'s spine causing her arms to tremble as she tried to hold herself up properly. Her lips curled up into a grimace and she closed her eyes when Peter leaned closer to her.

"No-"

"Maybe she'll put out for us." Alan's words made a sliver of fright dwell in (Y/n)'s stomach and she snapped her eyes open to look up at him.

They couldn't be serious. They couldn't try anything, they wouldn't get away with it and all of them had to know that.

Peter's hand in her hair tightened into a closed fist and (Y/n) swallowed down a yelp when he used her hair as leverage to yank her up to her feet. She tried to grapple for his arm, desperate for him to let go, but she couldn't do very much when his other hand gripped her chin and another pair of hands closed around her arms.

They steered her forwards, yanking her from side to side and causing her to stumble in almost every direction. She did her best to elbow them, to wriggle and become a nuisance in the hopes that they would stop and let her go or get tired of having to fight against her.

"No! G-get off!" She wouldn't let them do anything and she wouldn't just stand and let them mess with her. They needed to stop.

"We don't wanna play with you, we wanna get rid of you." Those words hit right at the pit of (Y/n)'s stomach, especially when she realised they were now close to the casm.

Hovering along the small corridor that acted as a ledge towards the edge of the casm. (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to look over the edge, not once despite the countless times she had walked down here. She couldn't lean over and look at the hundred foot drop that would kill anyone who fell down. Merciless.

And now these boys were trying to force her near the edge.

The will to fight burned bright inside of (Y/n) and adrenaline shot through her veins like a high as she bent forward and thrust her elbows back, trying to whack them and wind any of them so she could break free.

She screamed like a lion roaring into the wilderness when the third boy, Garrett- someone she barely knew- grabbed her ankles and yanked, pulling until (Y/n) fell and her front hit the ground. He tried to lift her by the ankles and Peter nodded, laughing maliciously as he tried to grapple for (Y/n)'s shoulders to lift her up. They were going to try and get her over the edge.

Garrett couldn't lift her when (Y/n) rammed her foot into his face. She heard the successful sound of his nose snapping like a twig before he groaned and dropped her ankles, letting her knees slam into the floor which shook her entire being.

"Get her over-"

"No!" (Y/n) shrieked and lifted her arm, using all the force she had to scratch her nails down Peter's face. She tried not to squirm when she felt her finger prod him in the eye and she felt the skin raking beneath her nails as she scratched deep enough to draw blood and leave sizzling burn lines down his face.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

It was Eric. His voice boomed through the air and echoed off the stone walls like he was a God among mortals.

But it was enough. His voice was enough to make them let go of (Y/n) just as her head was hanging close to the edge. Her already bruised and split knuckles scraped along the floor, gathering grit and dirt as she shuffled on her stomach until she was backed up near the wall. Near safety.

Her knees tucked up towards her chest and her arms coiled in on herself as she slammed her right side against the wall, not caring about the shockwaves it sent through her system. She just wanted to be safe. She wanted to be away from the ledge she had almost been thrown over.

It took some effort for (Y/n) to lift her eyes from the floor to look up and take in the scene around her.

Eric was stood with his hands on his hips and a face like thunder. She had never seen such confusion in his eyes and such clear rage across his face.

And the others looked petrified. Peter's chest was heaving and he had one hand cradling his scratched, bloodied face while his other hand flexed and shook at his side. Garrett was cradling his broken nose, knelt on the floor rather close to the edge of the casm which (Y/n) desperately wanted to throw him off right now. And Alan was stood to one side, both arms bound around his chest as he gasped for air and heaved for breath.

None of them answered. None of them had the words to explain what they had been doing when it was crystal clear what their intentions had been. (Y/n) was screaming, they were bloodied and beaten and they were near the casm. Added with the fact that (Y/n) was petrified and openly crying, it was clear what the three of them had tried to do to her.

"You think killing an opponent will get you on top of the scoreboard? Faction is family, you don't hurt your own." Eric snapped his jaw like a crocodile towards them but the way he sighed made him look like an annoyed parent who was fed up with his kids.

They were in trouble. They would be at the bottom of the scoreboard for this. They could have healthy competition with each other. They could fight in the ring and get grumpy and be annoyed, but that was it. They couldn't take that anger out on each other when they weren't training. They couldn't purposely intimidate or beat or attack a fellow member of the faction. They were all family in the end and this wasn't how family treated each other.

(Y/n) couldn't breathe.

Her lungs were burning, her eyes were stinging and her face was sopping wet as tears flushed her skin that she couldn't be bothered to hide.

When Eric tried to reach his hand down for her, he seemed a little more than surprised when (Y/n) slapped his wrist away and shuffled back. She didn't want his help. She didn't want him touching her. She didn't want any of them touching her; she just wanted to get away.

Eric sighed and held his hands out at his sides like he had no idea what to do when (Y/n) scurried to her feet. He watched her with a sense of sadness as she used the wall as leverage and stumbled away from them. He had a feeling he knew exactly where she was going and he didn't blame her, she hadn't done anything wrong.

He would have to remember to go easy on her over the next few days, she had fought for her life tonight and that earned her some points on the scoreboard and some respect from him.

(Y/n) heard the distinct sound of a slap and it echoed off the walls almost like a gunshot would have resonated, but she didn't look back to see which of them Eric had lashed out at.

She didn't care.

She wanted all three of them to be thrown off that casm.

Gasps and stuttering breaths left (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to swipe her sleeve against her eyes to clear her vision, but it didn't work very well. She still couldn't see where she was going, everything was a blur of grey and black with speckles of white in the mix.

She had to use her initiative and memory to guide her towards the stairs which she ended up crawling up like a toddler or some kind of deformed dog. Her body succumbed to trembling by the time she half jogged, half stumbled down the corridor towards Tobias's room.

It seemed rather like him to not bother locking the door, and (Y/n) was grateful. She was grateful that when she grabbed the handle and shimmied the door, it swung open like it had been expecting her all along.

Suddenly it didn't matter about calling out and alerting Tobias that she had found her way to his room and entered without knocking. All (Y/n) cared about was getting inside and staying away from everyone else; every possible source of danger and threat.

As soon as she was in the room, (Y/n) slammed the door closed behind her and fumbled to twist the lock to keep herself safe and secure.

Her eyes closed tightly until it became painful and her body slumped down to the cold floor that was soothing against her burning skin. She didn't bother trying to crawl into the room, she had no more energy left for that. (Y/n) shuffled back until she was against the wall and coiled her knees up to her chest.

Her trembling arms bound around her knees, locking them in place and her head dropped forward like her neck had snapped, slamming her temple onto her knees. She couldn't breathe as she began to rock back and forth, gasping, crying and heaving to gain a little bit of air.

"What the fuck-" Anger bubbled up in Tobias's voice when he heard the sound of his door slamming shut.

No one had knocked, no one had called out his name or asked if they could come in but clearly someone had waltzed straight in without an invitation. He didn't like the sound of that. He wasn't used to getting visitors to his room, barely anyone wanted to bump into him when walking around the buildings they claimed as Dauntless; why would someone come up to his room?

A deep frown set into his features as he wandered out the bathroom, jeans hung low on his waist and his shirt laid out on the bed which he didn't bother to grab in his haste to get to the door.

He didn't reach the door before all the anger dwindled out of his system and he was left with a wave of confusion and paranoia washing over him like the sea coming in across the sand.

"(Y/n)?" Her name fell from his lips in a hollow whisper as his brows furrowed and his lips curled into a grimace.

What had gone on since he saw her a few hours ago?

Tobias let himself scuff down to his knees on the floor once he was close enough to where (Y/n) was curled up beside the door. He shuffled closer until his knees were almost touching her feet but he wasn't sure whether to reach out for her or not when he realised how badly she was trembling. She looked like she was in shock.

Her face was buried down into the top of her knees, her arms were bound so tightly around her knees that she was going to hurt herself and she could barely breathe with her legs pushed up against her chest like that.

He took the risk and reached his hands out, carefully sliding his hands up (Y/n)'s arms until he was holding onto her just below her shoulders. His thumbs glided up and down her skin and he tilted his head down, trying to wait for her to look up at him, but she wouldn't lift her head.

"Baby what's the matter, what's happened?"

He couldn't very well do anything until he knew why she was so upset and what had happened. She could be hurt, she could have seen something, she could have been in an altercation. Hundreds of thoughts sped through Tobias's mind like lightning and he didn't like the sound of any of them.

When he didn't gain a response, Tobias sighed and slid his hand down to reach for her chin. He was careful and as gentle as he could be when he lifted her head so they were finally looking at one another. The tears pouring down her face made his heart lurch up into his throat while he tilted his head down a bit more until their gazes locked and she finally looked at him.

There was a sense of fear in her eyes that Tobias had never seen before, and that he wished never to see again. His thumb traced along her chin and up towards her lower lip and he leaned in closer until their temples were touching. Something broke inside of him when he watched another tear cascade down her face and he saw how hard it was to stop her lips from wobbling and letting out the broken sound she was holding at bay.

It took a few seconds for (Y/n) to gather enough air to speak without crying and it made her feel weak. She was Dauntless now, breaking down after an altercation like this wasn't what they were supposed to do. But no one else in the faction had almost been tossed over the side by their own group.

She had to divert her eyes down to Tobias's chin because looking into those dark brown eyes felt like a death sentence. And she knew she would never be able to tell him what happened if she was staring into his eyes.

"Peter, Alan and Garrett, t-they tried… tried to throw me down the c-casm. Said you're raising my score."

She wanted desperately to tilt her head down and bury her face back in her knees, but that proved impossible with Tobias still holding her chin. She was forced to see the lines appear on his face and watch how his muscles tensed and his jaw tightened until his teeth seemed like they were going to grind and break apart. But it was the way his eyes narrowed and a look of pure rage fuelled them that made (Y/n) want to cower down and hide.

"Did they hurt you?" His voice had never sounded so deep and it came with a low rumbling in his chest that was starting to feel an incessant fire surging throughout his body.

He watched as (Y/n) moved one shaky arm to wipe her eyes with her sleeve before she shook her head. "Eric caught them."

Her throat felt tender where one of them had practically gotten her into a headlock. Her chest was even worse than it had been from her fight with Peter earlier in the day and she was definitely bruised, but it was nothing that wouldn't heal. The scrapes and abrasions she had gathered tonight would heal, they weren't anything to worry about.

(Y/n) knew she was lucky. She could have smacked her head when they kept dropping her. She could have broken something in the scuffle to get away from them. And she knew she was forever lucky that Eric had been there at that exact moment, or else something worse might have happened.

She might have gone down the casm or she could have ended up knocking one of them down, and that may have been worse. They would have branded (Y/n) as a bad person, said she did it on purpose and she wouldn't have any way to defend herself or prove that they had been the ones to attack her.

When Tobias mumbled a gruff but quiet "Come here," (Y/n) tried to stop herself from tensing up and let her muscles go limp when he reached across for her. She wasn't sure whether he was going to try and get her up from the floor and take her to the bed or the bathroom.

But he didn't seem to have either of those things in mind. Instead, Tobias looped both his arms around her waist and pulled her across until she was sitting on his lap.

(Y/n) wriggled her legs around to curl them over his hips and she looped her shaking arms around the back of his neck, clinging to his front like a baby monkey of sorts. Her face burrowed down into the crook of his neck which caused him to shiver.

She could feel his hand splaying out in the centre of her back, trying to pin their chests together. Tobias wanted to tuck (Y/n) into his chest, to keep her safe and as close to his own heart as he could manage.

His lips attached to the side of her head but it didn't stop (Y/n) from being able to feel how tense he was and how each breath was laboured. He was trying his best not to implode. He was holding himself together when he desperately wanted to go off on a tangent and murder those three boys that had decided to mess with (Y/n). His girl.

It was comforting when Tobias began to rock back and forth, ever so slowly and very carefully like he wasn't sure whether the movement would be appreciated, but he knew he needed to do something.

"I… I don't wanna go back to the dorms, if th- if they're still there-"

"You're not going back there. You can stay here with me."

Tobias cut her off before she could even finish her trail of thought. She didn't want to go back to the dorms where all the other initiates would be. She didn't want to stay there if those three would be allowed back in there.

What if the others found out what happened? They might side with (Y/n), or they could agree that Tobias was giving her points and also bear a grudge against her. They might try and be spiteful and hurt her, and (Y/n) couldn't deal with anyone else turning on her like that. Those three were enough.

But she didn't have to go back. Tobias didn't want her leaving his sights. He didn't want (Y/n) to go back there and be with the others when three of them had just attacked her because she was doing better than them and they were afraid of becoming factionless.

She could stay here, Tobias didn't care how it looked or if anyone tried to say anything. She would be safer here with him and that was the point. He wasn't going to have this happen again, (Y/n) might not be so lucky if this occurred again.

"They won't be in this faction after tomorrow; they just sealed their fates." Tobias's tone was calmer than before, but his words were anything but.

He knew Eric would be on the same train of thought. They couldn't allow any of the newbies to act like this and think they still had a chance to stay in Dauntless. And their own families and factions wouldn't have them back after leaving and being in Dauntless for weeks. They had made their choice, and now they would have to deal with the consequences.

The rest of Dauntless might not feel safe, but at least here, sat on Tobias's lap, entangled in his arms, (Y/n) knew she was safe.

She pressed her lips against the side of his throat, breathing in his scent as she finally felt herself beginning to calm down. She was safe here. She wouldn't be running into Peter, Alan or Garrett anytime soon. Eric would be dealing with them right now and if he didn't, they'd better pray if Tobias found them in the morning.

#imagine #tobias eaton x reader #tobias eaton imagine #tobias imagine #four x reader #four imagine #four divergent #four #divergent series #divergent #divergent universe #divergent imagine #theo james x reader #theo james imagine #theo james

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ckret2 · 2 days ago

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Im really really working on an animatic now. im gonna do it. can I get your most on-model drawings of Bill for reference? i also have a million other ideas and have a rough animation ive lost to my school revoking toonboom access that i must recover. but goddamnit i need to make him MOVE!

good luck getting access back. by whatever means necessary ��‍☠️

Sure, first here's a bunch of general references I haven't posted before:

That last picture is THE character model I currently use (until I next tweak it)—it's a vector so I can move and pose his body parts like a rag doll. I use it for my intermediate lineart stage—I sketch, then slap this down so I don't have to redraw his face shape/eyes/hair/arms and pose them, then pose his torso and legs so I have a skeleton I can draw the final lines on top of. It's traced off of the "Didja miss me yet?" image. so, you can use that as primary reference for his proportions & shape

Now with that aside, behold my most on-model Bills, in a variety of outfits & poses & facial expressions; along with some tips on how I draw him

Bikini pics, primarily for anatomy without clothes in the way:

Profile view & cross-legged view, because those are rare:

some notes:

my goal is 4 top lashes 4 bottom lashes, but if they don't all fit that's okay. Often I can only fit 3 on the bottom.

sometimes his pupil rolls around parallel to the circumference of his eye rather than remaining vertical

the eye patch switches sides on purpose.

any time I don't draw him with his friendship bracelet, it means I fucked up

his bracelet is oriented so that if he holds his hand in front of his face with his fingers sticking up, the yellow triangles are pointing upward

You can leave out some of the rings on the nazars on his bracelet when you're drawing it real small.

in a choice between too much or too little tiddy, go with too little.

in a choice between too wide and too narrow hips, go with too wide.

his arms noodle a bit. His legs noodle less but it happens.

hair only has visible separate curls when he's under extreme duress.

small hands and feet

no, smaller

height is midway between the kids and the Stans.

I try to keep the ratio of head-size-to-body-size similar to canon characters. I don't always succeed.

before you draw his torso draw an equilateral triangle. No part of the triangle should stick out of his torso.

his scar is also on his back

when in doubt: use Bipper for facial expression references.

in early chapters I made the tips of his shoes pointy and then went "wait why am i doing that, that's dumb, Bill doesn't have pointy feet" so now I draw them round. Round is correct.

I used to draw him with more neck. Now his neck's rarely visible.

#marsupials of mars #reference #my art #bill goldilocks cipher #ask

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strayingawayy · 24 hours ago

Text

i've loved you in scribbles and silences...

...the one where the silent creator meets the effortless muse

{ @jeonginsleftcheek requested a fic w/ reader as popular kid in class and hyunjin as the shy piner. i hope i did this justice, sweetheart 💌 word count: 1900 words approx}

hwang hyunjin was not the kind of guy you could just ignore.

even in his silence, he commanded attention, not in an intentional way, but in the way that made people naturally gravitate toward him. maybe it was his presence, lean and elegant, draped in effortlessly cool outfits that looked straight out of a fashion editorial. or maybe it was the way his sharp, expressive eyes always seemed lost in thought, like he was seeing something beyond the walls of the classroom, like he understood the depth lying in the professor's words in a way none of you ever could.

or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that he looked like a literal prince but behaved like an artist stuck in his own little world, constantly sketching by the window instead of paying attention. not that your professors minded. after all, he was an art major for a reason.

one thing was that hyunjin didn’t talk much in class. he wasn’t unfriendly, but he wasn’t the type to insert himself into conversations either. people knew him, of course. the hot, mysterious art guy. the one who made lazy doodles look like renaissance masterpieces. the one who unintentionally broke hearts just by existing.

and then. well then there was you.

if hyunjin was the quiet presence in the corner, you were the center of attraction.

popular, passionate, hardworking, you weren’t just well-known, but well-loved too. a lethal combo. you had this energy about you, the kind that made people want to be around you, like standing in your orbit made their lives more exciting. balancing academics, extracurriculars, and a good social life, you made it all seem effortless.

and hyunjin?

he had been hopelessly, pathetically in love with you since the first semester.

but like he’d ever say it out loud.

he wasn’t delusional. he knew how different the two of you were. while you thrived under the attention of others, he was perfectly content sitting in the background, watching you shine from afar, his lips curling and eyes crinkling in the corners when you'd crack a joke that would have the entire class rolling over with laughter.

maybe that’s why his sketchbook was filled with you.

your laughter, frozen mid-motion like a memory, because it probably was. your hands, caught in the middle of an animated conversation. your eyes, wide with excitement when you spoke about something you loved. he'd hoped that one day you'd have that look in your eyes if you'd ever talk about him too.

god. he was so gone for you.

and it was getting out of hand.

because lately, his friends (ahem han jisung and lee felix) had started catching on.

"you're ridiculous," jisung had said one evening, watching hyunjin rip yet another drawing out of his sketchbook, crumpling it up. "just tell them."

"or don’t," felix added, flipping through hyunjin’s abandoned sketchbook like it was a diary. "just keep pining like a tragic 19th century ahh poet."

hyunjin groaned, yanking his sketchbook back from his friends. “they’re way out of my league.”

jisung rolled his eyes. "dude. you do know you're one of the hottest guys in college right?"

"careful ji, your bi confusion is on full display," seungmin says, only dropping into the conversation with a one liner before grabbing a donut off the table and leaving a flustered jisung stammering.

"that aside, yeah, if anyone has a chance with them, it's you mate." felix nodded, as if stating a fact, munching on a donut himself.

hyunjin scowled. “that’s not the point. they’re not just like, cool. they’re brilliant. they’re like, fuck,” he waved his hands wildly, searching for the words. “the human embodiment of shooting stars and ambition and-”

"oh my god" jisung clapped his hands dramatically. "he’s waxing poetic now."

felix gasped. "he's down bad. we need to stop him before he bends shakespeare over with his words."

hyunjin groaned, shoving his face into his ink stained hands and immediately regretting it. “i hate you both.”

but unfortu-fucking-nately, they were right.

maybe it was time he did something about it.

...

hyunjin was NOT going to half-ass this.

if he was going to confess, he was going to do it right.

so, naturally, he spent two hours spiraling over what right even meant, another hour staring at pinterest's idea of proposals for no reason, and then another seventeen hours crafting the most romantic, heartfelt, artistic confession ever.

his plan?

a huge, mural sized drawing.

of you.

obviously.

because, in his mind, there was no better way to show his feelings than through art.

the plan was simple:

1. sneak into the art room where you often kept your paintings too.

2. place inside the room, a breathtaking sketch of you.

3. casually bring you there and let the art do the talking.

4. pray you didn’t laugh in his face and pat his shoulder mockingly.

it should have gone smoothly.

but this was hyunjin.

and nothing, nothing, ever went smoothly when it involved his feelings.

...

the moment he finished the drawing, he knew two things:

1. it was the best thing he’d ever drawn in his life.

2. he was going to pass out from nerves.

but whatever. it was done. he just had to get you to see it.

so, the next day, he walked up to you, heart pounding, palms sweaty, already regretting everything, and blurted out:

“hey-wamma-see-something-cool?”

you blinked, mouth half-stuffed with the infamous campus canteen donuts, bottom lip covered in chocolate frosting (it was still one of the most breathtaking things hyunjin had ever seen in his life, he noted) “uh. sure?”

without thinking, he grabbed your wrist when you stood up (oh my god, he grabbed your wrist, what was he thinking, jisung was gonna scream when he told him this) and practically dragged you down the hallway.

"hyunjin, where are we-"

"just trust me," he muttered, swallowing hard, his cheeks already flushing when you spoke his name so tenderly, as if you hadn't dozens of times before in classes and group projects.

when he finally shoved open the door to the art room, he braced himself for the big reveal as he placed his fingers over the cloth covering the canvas.

"i- w-words fail me when i need them most. that's- probably why you don't hear me talk too often. and probably why i'm an art major instead of like- in mass communication or something. pfft can you imagine- anyway. (god he was rambling, he was rambling and you were smiling). just...just see for yourself yeah? please?" he said almost pleading. when you nodded, he inhaled deeply, like he was about to reveal the meaning of life itself ,and pulled the cloth off in one dramatic swoop.

hyunjin froze, his eyes widening.

no.

oh hell no.

staring back at him was a giant, fat, fucking cat drawn messily. big, googly eyes. a grin that was more terrifying than friendly, and nothing remotely close to being romantic. he can't believe a cat doodle was gonna get him rejected.

his entire drawing was gone and in front of him was a fat ass cat one covered by the same cloth he had used.

hyunjin’s soul left his body.

this was not happening.

you stared at the board. then at hyunjin. then at the board again.

“…hyunjin,” you said slowly. "i mean- it's. it's cool as fuck yeah-"

“nononono-there was-” he turned, searching every corner of the room like his drawing might miraculously reappear. “i drew something else. i swear it was romantic. it was you of course it was romantic-”

“-you drew me?“ you asked, a small teasing, curious smile on your face.

he turned back to you, ears burning, palms sweaty. “yes. i mean. yes.”

your teasing expression softened. “so… you were confessing?” you asked, expression almost hopeful.

hyunjin opened his mouth, closed it, then ran a frustrated hand through his short, blonde hair. "this is not how this was supposed to go."

you suddenly glanced to the side, eyes widening. “wait… is that it?”

hyunjin followed your gaze, spinning on his feet, and there it was.

his drawing.

propped against an easel in the corner, untouched, perfect.

the second you saw it, the teasing stopped.

your expression shifted, eyes widening, lips parting slightly, the kind of reaction that made hyunjin feel like time had paused.

because it wasn’t just a drawing of you.

it was you.

the way you laughed, the way you looked when you were deep in thought, the way your eyes shone when you talked about something you loved, it was all there, put into the strokes and shadows and scribbles like a love letter without words.

you didn’t say anything at first. just stared.

hyunjin swallowed hard. “…so.”

slowly, you turned to him, something unreadable in your expression.

"i-" he stammered, his voice cracking. "i just- gods-i wanted to do something... something that was real, something that would... show you how much i..."

his throat tightened. there it was again. the words that refused to come. the weight of his feelings choking him with each failed attempt to articulate it. he couldn't bring himself to say it. his head hung in shame, eyes fixed on the floor, desperate to escape the vulnerability that was threatening to suffocate him.

and you weren’t making it any easier. you were still looking at him with that unreadable expression. he felt like he was unravelling in front of you, a mix of fear and hope and something else twisted in his gut. why were you so quiet?

then, finally, your lips parted.

"hyunjin," you murmured, your voice soft, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. "this is... the most beautiful thing anyone's ever done for me."

hyunjin blinked, his breath catching in his throat as he prayed silently.

"really?" he asked, a little too desperately, the hope in his voice clear.

you nodded, stepping forward slowly, and the world felt like it was holding its own breath as you closed the distance between you. hyunjin stood frozen, unsure.

"you really see me," you whispered, your gaze locking with his. "all of me. even the parts i don’t really show...like...the little mole below my lip."

hyunjin’s heart skipped, a new rush of warmth spreading through him as he dared to meet your eyes again. "i do. i see everything. and it’s... perfect. you're perfect."

the words barely left his mouth before you reached up, your hand brushing against his cheek with a softness that was foreign but not unwelcome.

his breath stopped, and for a moment, everything in him screamed to pull away, to shield himself, but all he could do was blink slowly and lean into your touch.

"i’m not good with words either," you whispered, and before he could react, you gently placed your lips against his.

the kiss was tender, the kind that spoke volumes even in its softness. hyunjin’s breath caught as he melted into it, his hand reaching out instinctively to touch your arm, as if afraid you’d vanish the moment he didn’t hold on tight enough. when he realised he needed you closer, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

and as you both smiled into the kiss, hyunjin knew that words didn't have to be exchanged further. you understood each other. through brushstrokes and gestures that would take you down the road of life together.

somewhere above the classroom, felix and jisung screamed as they watched it all go down through the cctv camera while the security personnel snored beside them.

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