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planetveensz · 6 months ago

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the feeling that remains — ellie williams

— part 1/7 you meet ellie during highschool, the catalyst of some of the best years of your life... until they aren't. three years after breaking up, you're trying to move on with your life. dina and jesse are getting married; and when dina asks you to be one of her bridesmaids, how could you refuse? but guess who just so happens to be jesse's best (wo)man? tw: second chance romance! exes to lovers! modern!au, fem!reader, slow burn, mult storylines, angst, fluff, first meetings, religious trauma, homophobia, gay slurs, drinking, smoking, mild violence, possibly some ooc vibes, eventual smuttt :p wk: 5.4k, spotify playlist! an: ellie my wife <3 i hope i do you justice in this fic <3 this is probably going to be a bit slower to update, once every two weeks maybe? a lot of this is based off my own personal experiences as a gay woman so it's very near and dear to me :) i am always open to suggestions, feedback, and ideas! so pls send them in! enjoy xx

series masterlist | part 2

IT RAINED THE NIGHT you first met Ellie.

You knew who she was; there were always rumors about her floating around school. People called her terrible names behind her back, said she was someone you shouldn’t hang around. You avoided her not because you believed them, but because you were intimidated by her.

Ellie was devastatingly pretty; had such kind green eyes and a sweet smile, she was also way cooler than you could ever dream of being. You were sure if you tried to speak to her you wouldn’t get one word out, she made you so nervous.

You watched her diligently from inside Dina’s living room, a paper party hat on your head. Dina invited you over to celebrate her 16th birthday, throwing a small party. Her parents were out of town and her big sister Talia had gotten her hands on some alcohol. You’d known Dina from a very young age; you went to the same preschool and became best friends in kindergarten. Dina was one of your only friends, aside from the girls in your church choir.

Now that you had entered the second half of your sophomore year, you felt as if Dina stayed friends with you out of pity. She was always dragging you along, taking it upon herself to invite you to things. You appreciated it but had an inkling no one else wanted you around like she did. Dina required that you made an appearance at all events she hosted; she was also sure to bring you to bonfires and house parties, claiming you as her “plus one”.

You sighed and passed a red solo cup from one hand to the other, wiping the condensation off on your jeans. You were tipsy, it was the second time you had ever had alcohol outside of church. When you first arrived, you eyed the cup Dina handed you suspiciously. “Don’t worry,” Dina said, “you won’t go to hell for getting a little drunk.”

You had taken the cup with a shy smile. “Happy birthday, Dina.” You handed her the gift you’d been holding in your other hand. She gasped, hands falling on your shoulders with the most gleeful smile on her face.

The wrapping was perfectly done, you had hunched over the thing until every line was parallel and taped down perfectly. You finished it with a charming blue ribbon, tied in a neat bow at the front. “Oh, it’s lovely!” Dina gushed and you preened under her kind words. She untied the bow and carefully ripped open the paper to reveal her present. She squealed, pulling out the special edition copy of Pride and Prejudice. “You shouldn’t have!”

Really, you shouldn’t have. You saved up every cent you earned from chores the last four months to afford the book, but you wanted to spoil Dina. She deserved it, for sticking with you all these years, for being such a good friend. Before you could reply, she snapped that stupid party hat on your head and gave you a big kiss on the cheek. “You’re precious,” Dina said earnestly, “I adore you.”

You flushed at her words, unable to take the compliment. You scratched the back of your neck, attempting to brush off the twisting feeling in your stomach. You laughed awkwardly, “thanks.” Dina snorted, patting the same cheek she’d smooched.

“Now drink up, church girl, the party just started!”

You’d lost sight of Dina a while ago, choosing to stand aside in the living room while people chattered around you. Some music was bumping from an old speaker Dina thrifted with you a few months ago. There weren’t that many guests, a handful of people you knew from school, some of Talia’s friends as well. Ellie was sitting on the back porch around the firepit with Jesse and a couple of buddies, smoking a joint and talking loudly with each other.

The fire flickered and illuminated the freckles on her cheeks. You smiled to yourself when you noticed her dimple became more prominent the more animatedly she spoke. That’s when the rain started, along with a boom of thunder in the sky. Your little bubble popped and everyone shuffled inside, opting to sit in the living room. You could feel the strained expression form on your face as it became more crowded.

Jesse noisily suggested playing truth or dare and you took that as your cue to leave. You snuck off into the kitchen, filling a glass with water. Your mouth had gone dry from your drink and your head was swimming a little from the effects of the alcohol. The water soothed your throat as you drank it.

“Not interested in playing games?” You choked on the mouthful you were about to swallow, whipping around to see Ellie leaning against the entranceway to the kitchen. Her eyebrows raised at your reaction and you could see that she was fighting off a smile.

You wiped your mouth with your hand. “N-no. Well, yes, I mean—” you paused. “Just needed some water.” You lifted the cup in your hand.

“I can see that.” Her smile was sly and precarious. You weren’t sure if she was teasing, flirting, or making fun of you.

You squinted your eyes at her, “are you not interested? In playing games, I mean.” Ellie took a few steps towards you. Her auburn hair was damp from the rain and you could smell it on her sweatshirt; an earthy, rich scent.

She plucked the cup from your hands, sipping on your water. She placed it on the counter, empty. “Not really, no. They’re lame.” She tilted her head at you, a hazy look in her eyes.

“Are you high?”

She laughed right in your face, “yes, you priss. That’s what happens when you smoke.”

A raging warmth bloomed on your face. This was maybe the second time you’d ever spoken to Ellie alone; the previous being a bunch of stuttered sentences while you both waited for Dina to join you after school. You didn’t remember her being this snarky. “Okay.” You stressed, “no need to be rude.” You crossed your arms defensively.

She huffed through her nose, a smile on her lips. She flicked the hat on your head. “Just messing with you.” She bit her bottom lip and your gut twisted in anticipation.

You ripped the hat off your head, placing it on the counter next to the cup; suddenly feeling juvenile for wearing it. You plucked up all of the courage you had, from the alcohol and pure spite. “You sure you aren’t being a flirt? I’ve heard things about you, Williams,” you tilted your head playfully so she knew you were joking too.

She was full-on grinning, her eyes sparkled. That dimple below the left corner of her mouth appeared. Your breath caught in your throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She leaned in slightly, looking at you with an expression that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

You scrunched your nose at her, genuinely smiling for the first time that night since seeing Dina. “Y’know,” you turned your head away from her, looking up at the ceiling to avoid her piercing green eyes, “I’ve never smoked before.”

Her smirk was pure electricity, “well, that just won’t do.” The cutesy butterflies became a hoard of bats when she pulled a new joint out of her back pocket. Her hand grasped yours and you were taken aback at how soft her skin was. You stared at your conjoined hands as she began pulling you to the other side of the kitchen, towards the connecting hallway.

You laughed and allowed her to lead you upstairs to the last door on the right, Dina’s room. Ellie shut the door behind you both and plopped herself on Dina’s window seat. You watched, frozen, as she wrestled the creaky old window open and stuck the joint in her mouth. “C’mere,” she nodded to the space next to her, speaking around the joint, “I don’ bite.”

You sprung into action, stumbling over to her. You sat next to her, your knees knocking against hers. She lit the joint, sucking in air so that the end ignited. She grasped it between her pointer finger and thumb as she passed it to you. “Now, don’t inhale too much, you’re gonna cough a lot cuz this is your first time.” She facilitated, “just take small hits until your throat’s used to the burn.”

You nodded, letting her words sink in. You brought the joint to your mouth, curling your lips around the filter, and breathed in. The taste was pleasant, but the burn was not. You immediately let out a cough, a puff of smoke escaping your mouth, unable to help yourself. You passed the joint back to her.

She smiled at you knowingly, “I was really bad the first time I smoked,” she laughed slightly, “nobody told me to take it easy so I inhaled way too much.” She took a hit of her own. “Coughed so hard I threw up.”

You let out a surprised laugh, shocked to hear that someone with her reputation had a story like that under her belt. “When was this?” You asked curiously.

“Back in Boston, before I moved here.” Ellie explained, “I did it right in front of the girl I had a massive crush on. It was so embarrassing.”

You smiled at her affectionately; passing the joint back and forth, you allowed a light daze to settle over your mind. “The first time I ever drank, Dina and I snuck a whole glass of vodka from her mom’s stash during a sleepover. We got so drunk we had to lay on the floor, everything was spinning so bad.”

Ellie gave you a bemused smile, “damn, church girl has a bad side.”

“I didn’t really want to do it at first, but, y’know,” you shrugged, picking your fingernails.

“What?” Ellie urged.

“It’s Dina.” You stated.

Ellie nodded, understanding settling on her face. “Oh, so you have a crush on Dina?”

“What?” You exclaimed, “no! I mean, she’s my best friend—”

“Yeah.” Ellie interrupted, “your best friend. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” She shoved your shoulder, laughing at your mortified face. “All closeted girls fall in love with their best friend, it’s a right of passage.”

“Wha—?” Your face flamed with embarrassment, “Ellie, I am not gay. It’s a sin.”

Her eyebrows raised at you and she scoffed. “Right.” She said.

“I have nothing against gay people,” you held your hands up, attempting to explain yourself, “I just can’t—I can’t be gay.” She chewed the inside of her cheek as you accepted the joint from her hands, taking an especially large hit. You cough like crazy when you pass it back to her. “I have no problem with you, I’m sorry I said that.”

“‘s okay.” She said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear and dropping her head to gaze at her shoes.

“No, it’s not.” You leaned forward so that you could look her in the eye. “I’m not like the other kids at school, I’m not some bigot.”

Ellie laughed at you again, “I got it, I got it.” Her eyes sparkled when the moonlight bounced off of them; you found yourself needing to catch your breath, chest tight. It was the smoke, just the smoke.

There was a knowing look on her face when she looked at you again, like she understood something you didn’t. “So, what exactly have you heard about me, then?” She asked you suddenly.

“That you’re a… raging lesbian that sells drugs and fights people for fun.” You crooked a smile at her when you said it. Ellie laughed out loud, cackling with her head thrown back. You couldn’t help but join in.

IT BEGAN TO RAIN when your flight took off for California.

You had the window seat and because of your anxiety, you held your pee for three hours instead of squeezing past your neighbors to get to the restroom. While rushing to the airport bathroom, you felt a string of buzzing in your pocket. You pulled your phone out and watched as nearly a hundred texts from Jesse pinged on your phone, stress-ridden and panicked; finally loading after you got cell service again.

You smiled wistfully, using the toilet before even attempting to respond let alone read his manic word vomit. You headed to the baggage carousel as you began to sift through the messages. Most were just mangled screaming, some half-literate, some fully realized thoughts. You rolled your eyes affectionately, a smile tugging on your lips.

Jesse was asking Dina to marry him today.

Instead of sending a supportive text, you decided giving Jesse a call would do a lot more good. He picked up after the first ring. “Jess,” you greeted carefully, “I got your messa—”

“Please help me!” He wailed on the other side of the phone. You attempted to disrupt the laugh that passed through your lips with a cough; he had never sounded this frazzled before.

“What’s wrong?” You urged, eyes flickering to the conveyor belt as it started spitting out suitcases.

“I’m not sure if I should wear the blue suit with a red tie or the black suit with the black tie or the gray suit—”

“Jesse, dude,” you said slowly, “please, calm down. You’re working yourself up for no reason.” You spotted your luggage and huffed as you lifted it off the carousel. “This proposal is super intimate and private, I don’t think you should wear a suit at all.”

“But Joel said—”

“Jess, I love and respect Joel so much, but don’t take advice from a man who’s never been married and hasn’t had to worry about what he’s wearing for a woman since Ellie graduated from college.” You said expressionlessly, all in one breath. There was a pause over the phone.

Jesse erupted into laughter. “Oh, man,” it sounded like he was wiping a tear, “I can always count on you to make me feel better.”

You couldn’t help the smile that twitched onto your lips. “You should wear dark bottoms with a light top or light bottoms with a dark top. Think dressed up casual, if you go too fancy it’ll clash with the location.” You had the phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder as you fiddled with your purse, trying to grab your sunglasses. “I’ll find some inspiration for you on Pinterest.”

“Ugh, you’re a lifesaver.” Jesse sounded much more relaxed. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Jess, call me if you need anything else, okay?” He made an affirmative sound before you said your goodbyes and hung up. You chuckled, shaking your head at your best friend.

Your next call was to Talia, who said she was parked in front of your terminal. The California heat embraced you when you stepped outside of the airport lobby; it felt like coming home. You loved the feeling of the dry, unforgiving air against your skin. It had been too long.

A melancholy feeling took hold of your heart, squeezing it gently within its bitter palm. So much had changed since you were last in Cali; everything had changed the day you left Cali.

Talia drove a swanky little Volkswagen Beetle, it was a bright yellow and she had the top down. The wind brushed your balmy skin as you drove along the Californian coast; it was like a dream realized. In two hours, your best friends would be engaged.

“The engagement party’s gonna have an open bar,” Talia grinned, one hand on the steering wheel, “you better know I’m gonna abuse that shit after all the trouble we’ve gone through.”

It was true; keeping this massive secret from Dina, being emotional support for Jesse, and helping to plan the proposal. It was a lot of work, but it was worth it.

“She’s going to love it so much, I don’t even care how stressed I’ve been.” You replied, imagining the look that was going to be on Dina’s face when she showed off her ring.

Most guests didn’t know what the party Jesse had planned was actually for, meaning it’d be a shock for nearly everyone there. Dina loved surprises and having a surprise engagement party after her proposal was going to be like icing on the cake for her.

Talia hesitated and you looked at her inquisitively, “...are you like—worried about Ellie being there?”

You laughed nervously in response, “now that is something I’m not thinking about.” And you really hadn’t. You had gotten so good at pushing Ellie and all of the emotional baggage that came with her out of your mind. You forced yourself not to think about her; to keep her intimate smiles and loving giggles from resonating in your head.

It had been three years; having thoughts about your ex after that long was kind of concerning.

Talia relented, allowing you to stop the conversation before it happened. You spoke about the dress you’d brought to wear to the party and sent Jesse some outfit ideas from your Dina + Jesse Wedding Inspiration board.

Dina’s face sparkled as bright as the darling ring on her left fourth finger. Just as you thought it would. You were over the moon for her; the choked gasp she let out when she saw you for the first time in the cramped bar nearly made you sink to your knees. Your sweet Dina was finally getting everything she’d dreamed of.

“You’re here!” She exclaimed into your hair as she hugged you tight against her.

You rubbed her back, “of course I am. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” When you pulled apart her eyes were wet with emotion.

“Ugh,” she dabbed at her lashes, “don’t make me cry, you fucker.”

She’d slipped away into the crowd not much longer after that, tending to the other guests who were congratulating her and Jesse. Before you could huddle back into a corner, Jesse squeezed you into his embrace and kissed the top of your head. The tears that burned the back of your eyes convinced you to grab another drink before disappearing.

You signaled to the bartender, who approached you with a smile. “Whiskey, neat,” you said, propping your arms onto the bartop. “Please.”

“I see some things never change.”

Your head whipped to your right at the sound of a familiar drawling voice.

Ellie Williams’ gorgeous green eyes met yours, a hundred-watt smile forming on her face that sent your heart into palpitations. She was wider, fuller, clearly stronger. All signs of youth had been erased from her face with age. She’d always been annoyingly attractive, but apparently, you couldn’t catch a break from that fact even if she was your ex-girlfriend.

Even if she was your biggest heartbreak.

“Ellie,” her name left your mouth like a whisper, or maybe a prayer. How long had you secretly begged to see her again?

“Hey,” she greeted; leaning coolly against the bar, propping her tattooed forearm on the edge. You swallowed thickly.

“When’d—” your voice cracks, “when’d you get here? I didn’t see you come in.”

Her gaze swept down the length of your body and it felt like she just casually set you on fire. “I snuck in a couple minutes ago. I missed the big entrance, don’t tell anyone.” She gave you a half-smile, that fucking dimple creasing the corner of her mouth.

You felt like you were totally fumbling this interaction. She had completely thrown you off your axis; tossed a wrench into your meticulous plans to avoid interacting with her. The bartender placed your drink in front of you and Ellie grabbed their attention to order her own.

You gulped down your whiskey in three large mouthfuls, eye twinging at the taste. Your sinuses cleared and the additional oxygen to your brain calmed you a bit. “Oh—and another whiskey for the lady, please,” Ellie said as you placed your empty glass on the bar top.

You chuckled embarrassedly when Ellie winked at you while she spoke, mortified with yourself. Oh, you were entirely falling apart.

“How’s your mom?” Ellie asked and you released a breath.

“Um—good,” you cupped the back of your neck with your hand, avoiding her face. “She moved up to Boston last year to be closer to me. She’s uh, remarried.”

Ellie’s voice raised in surprise, “oh, you’re on the East Coast now?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, sending the bartender a smile when they placed your new drink in front of you, “moved there for work.” When Ellie didn’t say anything you spared a glance at her.

She looked kind of shell-shocked, a tick in her mouth that made your gut turn. You knew why, but didn’t have the strength to say anything about it to her. “What’s Joel up to? We haven’t spoken for a while.”

Ellie forced a smile, “oh, you know. Being an old man.” She wrung her fingers together like she was building her courage. “So, were you ever gonna tell me that—”

Someone called out your name from behind you. Abby Anderson approached you with her arms open and you let out a gasp when you saw her. “Abs!” You gave her a big hug. “Jesse said you weren’t coming!”

“I wasn’t, but when I heard you’d be here—”

You smacked her shoulder playfully, “stop that.”

“I was able to use some PTO last minute.” Abby’s pouty lips pulled into a smile.

A warm hand brushed your lower back, sending a shiver up your spine. Ellie leaned down to speak softly in your ear, “I’m gonna go congratulate the happy couple, I’ll see you later?”

The musky, spicy scent of her cologne flooded your senses and everything became hazy. She smelled downright edible.

“Yeah.” You breathed out, eyes fixed on the slope of her nose and lips.

She squeezed your hip lightly as her hand moved away. “Anderson,” she greeted Abby.

“Hey, Ellie, nice to see you,” Abby replied. Ellie sent her a two-finger salute, then walked towards the hoard of people surrounding Dina and Jesse.

“Jesus fuck,” you complained, fanning a hand on your blistering cheeks.

Abby snorted, “how ya doin’?”

You sent her a withering look. “Shut up.”

DINA FORCED YOU to come to her house for a party again.

This time, you arrived before most guests; tupperware of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies clutched in your sweaty hands. You were nervous about the social interaction, dreading it, actually. Your hand trembled when you pushed open Dina’s front door.

Ellie trailed in after you, keys dangling off her index finger while she held the screen door open for you. She was your designated driver for the night. You insisted you didn’t need one, you weren’t going to have more than one drink, but she wouldn’t surrender.

A cookie Ellie had hand-picked as the best from the batch was hanging out of her mouth. You suspected that was the real reason she wanted to drive you, first pick out of the cookie selection. You rounded the corner and entered the kitchen; some of your anxiety was chased away when you laid eyes on Dina and Jesse.

Jesse squealed in excitement when he saw the treats you brought over. He did a little dance when you opened up the container for him. “You are an angel.” He said as he groaned into the cookie he’d snatched.

Dina smacked his shoulder when he grabbed a second one, telling him to fuck off and save some for the rest. You could see the hearts in her eyes when he turned to her with a sweet smile on his face then devoured the second cookie in one bite.

Time passed, more people were filtering in from the frigid air. You could tell most of them pregamed, eyes drooping and cheeks flushed with blood. One especially belligerent guy you’d seen in the halls at school screamed, “Merry Christmas, bitches!” when he entered the doorway. You cringed, and Ellie laughed at the disgusted look on your face. She pulled you to the couch, shoving a glass of whiskey into your hands.

You cast another look at the sweater she was wearing, a reindeer with the word “horny” underneath it, and dropped into the cushions. “That sweater is so stupid,” you told her for the third time that night, and she gave you a devious smile.

“So you’ve said.” She plopped down next to you, spreading her legs comfortably, “I think you’re secretly jealous. Your sweater looks straight out of a granny catalog.”

You gasp, feigning offense. “How dare you!” Glancing down at your cheerful sweater, you realized that maybe it kind of did look like it could be found in an old lady’s arts-and-craft magazine. There were three snowmen lined up across the front with sewn-in sequins, pom-poms, and other knick-knacks as decoration. You sighed defeatedly, “but you’re right.”

Ellie shoved you on the shoulder as she laughed. You loved seeing her this way, carefree and relaxed. Whether it was the false bravado or misconstrued rumors, your impression of Ellie before your friendship began was completely wrong.

In the months since Dina’s window, you’d learned how similar Ellie really was to you. She preferred the quiet; she liked to read, play video games, and have movie nights. You look back on how nervous you were around her and laugh, Ellie was a big dorky sweetheart at her core. Nothing like the sly playboy-like image you had in your head.

You pulled your legs up, turned to face her, and tucked your socked feet under her thigh as you sipped on your drink. The burn in your throat was pleasant. You leaned your side against the back of the couch as you asked her, “have you finished Jane Eyre yet?”

“No! Shit, I’m sorry!” She turned to you with wide, guilty eyes. You laughed against the back of your hand at her expression. “I’ve been meaning to finish it, but I’ve been playing that game I told you about,” her hands flailed as she spoke, “you wouldn’t believe what happened.”

You suddenly focused in on the way her mouth moved as she spoke. The way she pressed them together when she was thinking of a word to use, the way she licked her bottom lip between sentences. She was so enthusiastic when she talked about the things she was interested in, her eyes lighting up with delight.

You realized that you had been tuning out her words as you stared, only catching the last half of her rant. “Is this about your fungus game?” You asked, playing dumb so that you could see the annoyed expression form on her face.

“I’ll have you know that fungus game is the most emotionally tormenting thing I have ever played in my entire life.” She stated, looking you dead in the eye.

“Oh, I believe you. Remember how you called me crying—”

“No.” Ellie cut in. You laughed into your whiskey as you took another sip.

“I wonder if I’d survive that apocalypse.” You mused out loud and Ellie snorted from beside you.

“Definitely not,” she said confidently, “you’re too sweet, you’d die after ten minutes outside.”

You gave her an offended look. “I am not that sweet, I’m just nice to you because you’re my friend.”

“Yeah, right.” Ellie teased, “you feel guilty after killing spiders.”

“They are an essential part of our ecosystem!” You defended yourself.

Ellie snickered like she’d won the argument; you opened your mouth to make another point when someone cleared their throat from beside you. That drunk boy you recognized from earlier stood in front of the couch, glancing between the two of you. “Hey.” He greeted.

“Hi?” Ellie responded, the tone of her voice raising into a mocking question.

The boy didn’t deter, “I’m Axel.”

“Okay?” Ellie’s voice became more sarcastic.

He was looking at you when he asked, “do you want another drink?”

You glanced at your nearly-empty glass of whisky and shrugged, “honestly, I’m good, I wasn’t planning on having more than one. Thanks, though.”

“‘Cmon,” Axel smiled broadly at you, “it’s Christmas! Just have one more—”

“She said no, Axel,” Ellie said firmly, “why don’t you fuck off?”

Axel scoffed, his eyes still trained on you, “why do you even hangout with this faggot?”

Before Ellie could get up to put him in his place, before she could even react to his words, you were out of your seat. Ellie could only watch stunned as you punched Axel so hard in his face that he stumbled, dropped his drink, then fell to the floor. There was a lull in the crowd of people as they watched it all unfold, Jesse pushing through the kitchen to see the commotion.

If that wasn’t enough, you stomped towards a man already wounded, rearing your foot back threateningly. That’s when Ellie finally reacted, standing up quickly and grabbing you around the waist to pull you away as you screamed, “don’t you ever use that word you limp-dick, good-for-nothing—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Jesse held his hands up, trying to calm you down. “What the hell is going on?”

“Get him outta here, Jesse!” You growled, fuming, “get him out or he’ll have two black eyes!”

Ellie hadn’t removed her arm from around you yet, watching as Jesse pulled the boy up and walked him to the front door. She released you when the door closed. Dina approached, grabbing your face between her hands. “You okay?” She asked, watching as you took quick, aggravated breaths.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said sternly, wiping at the angry tears forming in your eyes. “He called Ellie a—” you send a sidelong glance at Ellie, whose gaze hadn’t left your face during the entire altercation.

“We’re okay, Dee,” Ellie soothed, “he was just being an asshole.”

Dina nodded, looking between the two of you. You huffed, lurching towards the coat rack to grab your jacket and shoes. “Need some air.” You informed everyone before stepping out the back door.

The frigid winter air nipped at your nose as you huffed breaths into the night. Your fists were clenching and unclenching, the buzz of adrenaline still in your ears. Ellie stepped out not five minutes later, dressed in her boots and jacket.

“Hey…” she began cautiously. But you threw all caution to the wind.

“Aren’t you sick of it all?” You asked angrily, turning to look at the side of her face. Your implication goes unsaid. The rumors, the homophobia, the name calling.

“I mean, yeah, but what am I gonna do?” Ellie shrugged, unperturbed. “I can’t control anyone's actions, only my own. I choose to ignore it.” Then she smiled at you, tilting her head towards the grassy lawn, “‘cmere.” She grabbed your hand and a blanket off the back of a chair and pulled you away from the porch.

Ellie spread the blanket out in the middle of Dina’s yard, sitting on top of it and motioning for you to join her. You sighed, obliging. Your shoulders touched when you situated yourself next to her, laying down flat on your backs.

It was quiet for a few moments, then you saw it. A streak of white light flashed across the sky and you gasped; one hand jumping up and pointing to where the burning asteroid just was, the other grabbing her forearm. “A shooting star!”

When you turned your head to see if Ellie had caught it too, she was already looking at you. “Make a wish,” she said softly, her eyes just as tender as her voice.

You dropped your arm and the fingers on your other hand trailed down her forearm to lace her fingers within yours. You smiled, bad mood completely forgotten. “I wish I could see your face again when you realized I wasn’t as sweet as you thought I was.”

Ellie’s astonished expression made you giggle and squeeze her hand. “I can’t believe you.” She said earnestly, turning back to look at the stars.

“I know, I’m full of surprises.” You said cockily, proud that you threw her off so much that she hadn’t been able to come up with a single sarcastic comment. She laughed freely into the crisp night air, you watched her breaths condense and then evaporate.

An overwhelming feeling overcame you, something like endearment or adoration. “I’m so glad you’re here.” You whispered, just loud enough so she could hear you. You weren’t sure if “here” meant “here in this moment” or “here on planet Earth”, but Ellie didn’t seem to care.

She squeezed your hand back, “I’m glad you’re here, too.”

#my writing ⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x fem reader

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prentissluvr · 1 year ago

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something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket.

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years.

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.”

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours.

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have.

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up.

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch.

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed.

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel.

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat.

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand.

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love.

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips.

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap.

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth.

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible.

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

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egg-but-with-style · 10 months ago

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Butcher ghost 2, electric boogalo

Tw: definitely ooc

1 2 3

You were panicking at the moment, standing outside his shops door. Holding day old chicken spadini in your hands. You threw in some fettuccine alfredo that you had made too.

You had texted him yesterday night, after you left your parents house, waiting until you got home to decide if you wanted to talk to him or not. Of course you did, he was handsome, or atleast his eyes looked handsome. Or maybe you just had a thing for guys with huge arms and a small penchant for violence.

When you had texted him, he seemed so dry. Only a couple word responses, then he told you to meet him inside his shop, said Tuesdays were always slow. In the back of your head, there was a little common sense. 'What if he's actually a serial killer? How do you know he isn't a creep?' which were questions you should've probably taken more seriously, but the knife and taser in your purse gave you reassurance.

You finally, having some courage, pulled open the door and went in. He seemed alot less focused today, like he was waiting for something. You watched his head snap up once the door closed, it letting out a slight creak.

He was surprised when you actually texted him, he was speechless when you agreed to come back to the shop, and now that it was all real, you standing in front of the counter, it made his jaw hit the floor.

He wasn't good at romance, or first impressions, or flirting. But he liked what he saw, he liked what he heard. He also might've stalked your socials after you told him your name over text. Only to check if you had a partner, definitely only that.

You saw him looked a little surprised, but the mask definitely blocked most of the facial expressions you would've seen, which he was thankful for. You spoke up, "Hi, Simon. I um.. bought the chicken..oh and I put some pasta in there too, figured chicken wasn't a balanced meal on its own and all that." You walked over to the counter and set down the Tupperware container. He spoke, his voice a little less rough today for some reason. "Mum used to tell me I couldn't just eat meat, now I run a butcher shop"

You let out a giggle. Your round cheeks becoming almost circles as you smiled. He felt his face heating up behind his mask, which was already so humid. He swore if he looked in a mirror now, he'd see his pupils being about the size of a saucer. He cleared his throat, trying not to feel embarrassed.

"It..it looks good though."

He hadn't eaten for the last 5 hours just because he wanted to be able to eat whatever you gave him. (Including dessert, if you catch my drift) Which you seemed to give him an ample portion, he was a big guy after all.

You thought he seemed a tiny bit nervous. Was it..you that was making him nervous? You shook off the idea, maybe he was just a little jumpy specifically on Tuesdays.

"Do..do you want to try some? I heated it up before I drove here. Even though you probably have a microwave.."

You realized maybe it was kind of a stupid idea to heat it up for him, but you had been so worried he might not have liked it. So you just wanted him to eat it as soon as possible. Not wanting to deal with the fear.

"No, no that's fine. I'd have to run all the way upstairs to my flat to heat it up anyway."

You watched him slowly open the container and pull up his mask just slightly to get the smell in. It seemed like his shoulders physically relaxed once he got a good sniff in. It was kinda cute.

"Do..do you want me to look away or?"

You weren't sure if the mask was just for protection, or if he just didn't like people seeing his face. He looked at you and seemed a little stunned that you asked. He slowly shook his head. "It's alright."

He hoped you wouldn't judge him because of his face, of all the scars, from acne and otherwise, not to mention the nose that had clearly been broken before, but when he pulled down the mask fully, you swore you were seeing something carved from marble.

His nose was crooked, a few scars lining the philtrum and the bridge. Then to his lips, the top one have a scar through the left side and slightly cleft because of it. His jaw and chin were just as impressive, being a bit soft, but still so pretty.

"You're beautiful.." you quickly covered your mouth, looking embarrassed for even saying that. "I..I'm so sorry! I didn't, I wasn't thinking.." Oh you were thinking, you were just thinking about how handsome he was.

That's when you saw his face turn a bit red. "Its..it's no problem. Don't worry about it" He looked away for a second, coughing and then looking back to you. Trying to play off the blush finding it's way to his ears.

He picked up a fork he brought down here specifically for the chicken you were bringing him. He felt kind of like a dork, but all that was forgotten when he took a bite of the chicken. He even let out a little groan. The seasoning, the flavor from the overnight marination in the sauces. He felt like he was in heaven, he looked like he was too.

Once he chewed and swallowed, he spoke up. "This is really fucking good." He really wanted to scarf it down right in front of you, but he already felt embarrassed and vulnerable enough, so he closed the container, to his own dismay. "I'll eat the rest of it once I close down shop. I..I wanted to ask you something"

You had been staring in awe at his reaction to your cooking, snapping out of it once he addressed you directly. You had a feeling what he was gonna ask, you just hoped you were right. "What did you wanna ask me?"

He blurted it out, hoping if he said it fast enough you'd just say yes. "Do you wanna go on a date with me?" Was it a little werid to ask the lady he just met yesterday out on a date? Yes. Yes it was. But he could care less. He knew he couldn't charm you the normal way, so it was a Hail Mary.

You heart fluttered a little, hearing the words come from his lips. "YES! I..I mean sure. Yeah, totally." You really didn't mean to yell but who gets the chance to go on a date with a beefcake like him everyday?

Your enthusiastic reply made his lips quirk up into a small smile. He was glad you were just as nervous, terrified, and frankly down bad as he was.

While you were indeed as taken as him as he was with you, you were still a woman and wanted to meet in a public place. You had some common sense left. "How does coffee on Saturday sound? Or..or tea if you don't like coffee.." He in fact did not like coffee. His smile got a little wider and he nodded. "Sounds like a date."

Authors note: In my au, I don't think ghost joined the military, but I do think he did some boxing in his teens and early 20s, definitely getting roughed up alot. I'm not sure if I'm happy with how I wrote this, so who knows I might rewrite it in the future.

I also wanted to thank you guys for 300 some notes on the first part of this! I'm really new to writing, and I'm glad you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoy making it. Also, I'm a dork and a goofy ghost believer, so deal! Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!

#chubby reader #plus size reader #tall reader #simon ghost riley #butcher!simon #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #when i was writing this i felt like an idiot and also i felt like my writing was awful #something something failure means experience

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koiiiji · 1 year ago

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I would...you tenderly roughly

my favourite russian songs + lookism boys (pt.2)

тебя нежно грубо (by TARAS) = Gitae Kim

author's note ; i will never stop romanticizing bad boys. im not even gonna say that this is ooc bc we don't even know his character yet, but i feel that gitae that type of men who mercilessly outside, but in bedroom can be completely different. but yet having his... moments...

author’s note 2 ; for better immersion in the atmosphere try to search akuma_asmr on reddit [masked yan] (or just dm me, i’ll send you link)

pairing ; gitae kim x reader

tw ; gitae kim himself is an a threat, DNI IF YOU ARE MINOR, f!reader, angst, toxic, stalking, non con, slight knife play, pet names, sensual but rough sex. this fic contains non consensual sex, read on your own risk

summary ; reader being a model who came to Mexico on her indefinitely long vacation to reconnect with herself and find some peace from loud and bright paparazzi, only to catch some certain attention.

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

00:00 - 00:30 "you're on repeat in my dreams who are you, my naked drug? and if you are my thrill, dissolve yourself in me up, up, up your hands, you raised your hands up"

the sun dipped low over the Mexican horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the sprawling villa where you resided. villa, perched on a secluded beach, was meant to be a sanctuary for the weary, a place where the soul could find peace. a villa located on a secluded beach, surrounded by hills and rocks was supposed to become your shelter for about the next year, this place was supposed to become your healing, a place where you could hide from the stuffiness and dust of the big city from which you came, a place where your body finally then you could take a break from endless shows, filming, flashes of paparazzi cameras and the endless pursuit of fame and money, a place where your soul would find peace and solitude. this place was supposed to be a refuge… instead it became a gilded cage.

it’s not that you knew Gitae well - you were from different worlds - you are from the world of endless fabrics, chic, camera flashes, gloss, all kinds of bags, heels, suits and other rags, all this is your everyday life - shows, changes in looks, flights, new countries, jetlag and again and again. Gitae was from a world of violence, pain, blood, dirty money and endless fights. wars for territory and business, illegal deliveries and prohibited fraud, with everything that could be imagined were his daily routine, and this suited him quite well.

it seems one day, the owner of the agency - on behalf of which you worked, - threw a big party in honor of his birthday, just at one of the luxurious resorts in Mexico, and through Gitae’s people, various types of drugs and other illegal substances were delivered to that party. by this time, Gitae's business had grown so much that he rarely personally attended these types of transactions, but when did he refuse an invitation to secular parties? that's when he laid his eyes on you.

1:53 - 2:40 "i gently suffocate you i'll either choke you or you'll be mine and you put a knife to my throat - either i’ll stab you or will be yours i’ve never met anyone more cunning than you, but you’re making yourself look stupid but you know, it doesn’t matter much whether today you were voluntarily or by force i would take you gently, i would take you roughly i would...you gently-gently, i would...you roughly i would take you gently, i would take you roughly i would...you gently-gently, i would...you roughly" <...>

bare feet quietly padded on the white marble of your villa. the hem of a white, light silk robe silently trailed behind you as you got out of bed and headed towards the balcony. it's about three in the morning, and you still couldn't sleep. throwing the doors wide open as you step onto the terrace, the warm, gentle breeze from the ocean softly caresses your skin, carrying with it the faint scent of saltwater and tropical blooms. the night sky is filled with countless stars that twinkle like diamonds scattered across a velvet blanket. the Milky Way is clearly visible, its dense cluster of stars creating a shimmering river of light that stretches across the sky. the moon a glowing orb, casts a silvery reflection on the calm surface of the ocean, creating a path of light that seems to lead directly to the horizon.

quiet and solitude are rare and precious opportunity to reconnect with nature and yourself. as you breathe in the night air and gaze up at the star-studded sky, a profound sense of peace and contentment settles over you, until... '

"what are you doing here?" - your quiet voice cut through the distant noises of the night.

<...>

Gitae had eyes and ears everywhere. you have more than once noticed men in the crowd, - usually there are three of them - here and there, at the beginning of the street, from the other end of the market where you came for fresh fruit - a better choice than paraffined, plastic fruits in the supermarkets - and one is always in the car just few meters away, they were everywhere you went, keeping their distance, but making their presence known.

Gitae liked watching you, it was calming. there was so much lightness and calmness in your every movement and gesture that it seemed to him that you were producing the same effect on him… even from a distance. he liked to know where you were, who you were with - even if you spent almost all the time here alone or had small talk with lady from house keeping, who came a couple of times a week, and with the women at the market where you usually came to buy fruits or vegetables [the only thing you don’t know, is that this sweet woman was the mother of someone from the cortel, this small market was under their protection, and the fact that you periodically traveled several kilometers just to buy fruits from her honestly added adorability points to you in Gitae's eyes]- he liked control, and he knew that he was completely in control the situation is under control. although, to be honest, this could not be said about his… thoughts and desires, he would never admit that he felt anything other than desire towards you.

he would never admit to himself or anyone else about what emotions your sight awakens in him in the morning, when you, still half asleep, go out onto the terrace with a cup of tea clutched in your thin, slender fingers, or in the afternoon when you are basking in the rays of the sun, allowing fall asleep again while you are reading a book, or while you are sleeping. oh, this awakened in him the most familiar feelings for him, when he silently stood over you in your house, enjoying your sleeping look, your light, unobtrusive smell, looking at your cute face, looking at your things, maybe even taking that cute couple of lace panties with a bow for himself. at such moments blood rushed to his dick so much that it became painful.

<...>

it seemed to you that hours had already passed since he threw you onto the bed, bowing right in front of the bed and throwing your legs over his shoulders. contrary to the first impression that might have been formed about him, he was gentle… more precisely, his tongue on your pussy, but his hands roughly squeezed the skin on your thighs, rising higher, squeezing your waist, running along your ribs and going higher, to your chest, roughly kneading the delicate skin in his huge palms. Gitae wasn’t rough with you, kissing inner side of your thighs, your tummy, your clitor, but each of his touches felt like hot metal on thin, soft skin. maybe it was the huge knife with which a few minutes ago he, oh so carefully cut your panties and the cute little blouse in which you usually slept. oh, he said that if you turn away from him or fidget too much, he'll have to start using it.

but right now he was too busy with his tongue in your tight hole - “you like being humiliated like this, don’t you, bunny?” a deep growl vibration touched your bare pussy when he almost buried his nose in you. wet sounds filled the entire room, and you were embarrassed to admit to yourself that it was pretty hot. now one of his hands was squeezing both of your wrists on your tummy, while the other was caressing your thigh, moving his hand back and forth, not allowing you to twitch and sway your hips away from him, keeping you in place. Gitae is agonizingly slow, he likes to slowly coax your first orgasm out of you, lightly licking and teasing the tender bundle of nerves and the entrance to your tight slit. you are so pretty, lying on your huge bed, the sheets are rumpled, the blankets and pillows are scattered, half fell to the floor - the result of the little cute resistance that you tried to give to Gitae when he pushed you back into the room and threw you on the bed. even though he was now kneeling in front of your bed, burying his nose in your tight, sensetive cunny, you couldn’t help but feel the strength and dominance with which he was squeezing you, completely suppressing any attempts to resist. all that you could oppose to him was your sweet moans and quiet pleas for him to stop. he even liked it.

when the heat engulfed your entire body, trembling began to break through your legs and thighs, and without controlling yourself, you began to lean forward yourself, towards his tongue, searching for more friction. Gitae let out a low groan more like an animal growl, “there you are... good girl, now cum. cum on my tongue,” he growled protractedly letting go of your hands and cupping your ass cheeks with his huge, harsh palms, slightly lifting you above the bed, making you gasp, arching your back more and throwing your head back.

with a quiet hum, Gitae slowly licked the remains of your finish, teasing the sensitive, heated skin, allowing one finger to slip inside you, earning another pitiful moan.

“so sensitive and wet… and all mine…” his voice boomed somewhere above you as he stood up from his knees, his finger still inside you, probing the hot, gummy walls while your body instinctively tried to shrink into the fetal position and close yourself off from him. Gitae just grinned, leaning lower, crushing you under him, clinging to your plump pink lips, persistently sliding his tongue further, only to hiss a moment later and pull away from you, “fuck. did you just fucking bite me?” a loud slap rang out across the room and you yelped from the sharp, burning pain spreading across your butt cheek.

“come on, do it again,” he growled in your ear, slapping loudly again and pressing you harder into the mattress with his hips. his hands found yours again, grabbing your wrists and pressing them into the sheets above your head, pinning you completely to the bed. you felt your shoulder blades touching his bare chest, and something heavy was pressed into your ass and it clearly wasn't a knife in a sheath on his belt. “tell me, doll, you didn’t think that was all, yeah?” you felt his smirk on his lips and that mocking tone in his voice as he pinned you down on the bed with all his weight. “oh don’t worry bunny, i have so many plans for this night,” he purred in your ear, slightly biting your earlobe and slowly and persistently moving his hips, making you feel his boner in his jeans more strongly.

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

it doesn’t matter to listen whole song just this part bc i got inspiration just from there🤟🏻🤌🏻

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #webtoon lookism #lookism x reader #yandere lookism #kim gitae #kim gitae x reader #x reader #kim gitae x you #lookism kim gitae #Spotify

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caramel-maveeato · 5 months ago

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𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡˚₊ 。。。 ᴋ. ᴀᴋᴀʙᴀɴᴇ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ

❧❤ SYNOPSIS: What it’s like to date THE Akabane Karma… ♡ Pairings/Love interest: Akabane Karma x GN!reader ♡ Genre: fluff, slight hurt/comfort ♡ TW: too much yapping, might be very OOC this is just my opinion ♡ Word count: 1.5k

Note: All characters originated from “Assassination Classroom” except for y/n. All characters are 18 or older. English is not my first language!!! Sorry in advance if I make any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Oh god I love him

My bish.

Been happily married to him for 8+ years so here's a fic to describe my experience (Delusion is my middle name.)

Akabane Karma has a very Akabane Karma way to love.

Karma is rich and can afford fancy restaurant dates, but he prefers more casual dates: coffee date, study date, arcade, park, mall, concerts, outdoor movie, late night walks, throwing rocks on the rooftop of some dickhead’s houses he/you hate, going around causing troubles with you becoming his accidental accomplice, etc. He loves the light-heartedness and silliness of them.

(It’s lowkey romantic when you run away from security hand-in-hand.)

On nighttime dates, he’ll sneak you out during random midnights by climbing through your window (if you live with family) or barging through the front door just so you can go on an adventure with him.

No one’s stopping him, no one can stop him anyway.

His love language is a mix of Quality Time, Act of Service, and Gift Giving.

Quality Time: He likes being near you. Doesn’t matter if he was on his game console and you were on your phone scrolling through Tumblr or if you both are working like a dog on two different laptops, doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t mind the comfortable silence as long as he can still feel your presence or see you.

Daily contact is needed. Not that you have to chat 24/7, but enough communication (that’s the bare minimum). If you can’t see each other at all, he wants to at least text a bit or talk on the phone.

The feeling of closeness is comforting to him considering how he never really has it growing up.

Act of Service: As much as he subconsciously does little things for you like paying close attention to what you tell him and your body language, doing research on things you like, giving you his jacket when he notices you slightly shiver without you even asking him to, reminding you to eat (though his ass doesn’t eat regularly either), making you your favorite dishes—Karma secretly melts when you pays him the similar amount of attention.

You don’t have to do allat, just be yourself and love him in your own way is enough to show him that you really care.

Gift Givings: Karma spoils you to death (he’s rich af).

You stare at a bracelet for more than a few seconds at a mall? Boom he already got it nicely wrapped up while you go to the bathroom. You say a shirt is cute? Boom he’s taking his wallet out right now. You wonder whether you should get fruit smoothie or milkshake? Boom he’s paying for both. You woke up on a random Thursday morning? Boom there’s a silly, stupid looking plushie sitting on your bed with a small note, “It looks like you :P”

This is lowkey the way he’s been taught growing up—which his traveler parents would throw gifts and souvenirs at him once every blue moon they came home as a way to express that they ‘cared’.

But he isn’t like them. The gifts he buys you aren’t empty envelopes that’s called ‘love’ nor half-assed apologies for ignorance. These are just physical emphasis of what he feels for you, just something extra to add to the genuine love he already shows daily.

Physical Affection: Karma is quite closed off and despite his effort to seem like a nonchalant, I-don’t-need-no-one lonewolf, he’s diagnosed with touch starvation.

But he has trust issues, plus that colossal reputation of a “cool guy” he has to maintain, he doesn’t like it when people become too physically comfortable with him. Or at least deep down he’s programmed himself to think that he doesn’t like being touchy-feely.

(Which is the reason why bro’s always caught standing there like a sims character when Koro-sensei lovingly pats his head or Itona that one time too lol)

Inwardly, he’s a bit flabbergasted to find out (be honest with himself) that he actually doesn’t mind receiving some physical love. From people he trusts and is close to only, of course.

This explicitly includes his ✨romantic partner✨

Though despite the above belief of Karma being a touch-starved boy, I feel like he doesn’t show his true color until weeks or even months into the relationship. And still mildly bashful sometimes when he initiates the affection until completely get used to it, which can take 1-2 years or more.

I feel like he doesn’t mind PDA, but he doesn’t want to overdo it either. So usually Karma would just hold your hand, placing his hand on your waist or wrap an arm around your shoulders.

But he’d show more than just the slight touches in cases where he wants to tease you or to shoo “competitors” away, or just… when he feels like it.

Words of Affirmation: Words on the other hand isn’t something Karma will do much, he’s capable of doing so though. Compliments may be spilled once in a while, he’d rather keep them in his head. He loves you, but he’ll express it through actions instead of words because his huge ego doesn’t want to sound “overly sappy.” It’s just not his style.

This makes his “I love you”s hit harder than they’re supposed to since he doesn’t say it often.

As much as Karma cherishes his partner, he’s still a playful little shit.

He’ll poke fun at you and tease you just because. He does know when to stop and remembers certain boundaries not to cross, but still pisses you off sometimes because he.is.so.annoying.

If something he said hits a sore spot for you, he’d try to throw his pride down the stairs and apologize almost instantly because hell, how could he hurt you?? On the other hand, if you’re just having enough of his relentless teasing, then no, he wouldn’t beg for your forgiveness.

Instead, Karma would buy you some small gifts or favorite food, or crack a joke, anything to pull out even the slightest, littlest lift of your lips.

Then he’ll surprise you with a hug or a kiss, trapping you in his arms until the tension evaporates entirely.

He’s hateable but lovable at the same time ugh

Jealousy Karma we need.

He’s outward and inwardly chill most of the time.

So it’s not like him to constantly be worked up and worried about your loyalty. He trusts you a lot, if he doesn’t you two wouldn’t be dating. He knows you aren’t gonna cheat on him or do anything behind his back.

But the jealousy can be caused by something outside of your relationship, like someone shows too much interest in you. But I feel like this can only apply when that person makes him feel threatened in terms of “perfection.”

Karma doesn’t show it but his insecurities can still be triggered, he’s only human after all. So on the bad days he feels like his “love rival” is a bit too good and compatible with you, that’s where you can see a jealous version of your boyfriend.

He’s gonna be more pissy and quiet, (or just sulky in general, even clingy), and he urgently needs the confirmation that you love him. So please don’t ignore the signs and show him just that.

Being a rising bureaucrat is exhausting, but Karma wouldn’t let it affect the person he deeply treasures.

We all know Karma doesn’t trust easily. So if he goes out of his way to confess and date you, he’s extraordinarily, horribly smitten.

He grows up alone and neglected, most people in his life either hate him or respect him out of fear. So I don’t think he’s willing to let go of someone he finally, finally feels safe and loved with if the reason is simply stress/busyness.

Time management is hard, of course. But if he wants to he would, and Karma wants to.

It might be overwhelming at first, pressures from different aspects of life might kick both of you in the ass. You two probably would find yourselves arguing more than normal. But even if he’s tired and stubborn, Karma won't let you stay angry at each other overnight because his partner is so dear to him.

He’ll try to be at home every night, but omg Japan’s work culture… that can be impossible on some days due to overtime work.

He’ll text you or call you during breaks, more callings on the nights he’s stuck at work—your voice is emotional support and keeps him going. If you fall asleep during FaceTime he’ll just keep the phone there and glancing at your sleeping face once in a while, lowkey feeling more comforted while going half batshit insane with paperworks.

He’ll make it up to you afterwards.

So yeah, once you both get the hang of it it’ll be fine again. Busyness is just a dumb excuse for a relationship to fall apart, that means effort wasn’t being put in enough from both sides. Your relationship with Karma is far away from this.

I feel like when Karma finally finds someone to be openly affectionate with and the said person gives him the same amount of care, it’s healing his inner child too. (I cried)

Please love him I love him so much.

A/N: It's almost 2025 and I'm still not over assclass I want them back so bad my class E babies :((

#delulu is the solulu #Happy New Year fic I guess #akabane karma my beloved #akabane karma x reader #akabane karma #karma akabane x reader #karma x reader #karma akabane #assassination classroom #anime x reader #ansatsu kyoushitsu #pookie please come home 🏠

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kaz-dekadent · 2 months ago

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bloom of the fragile lily in january snows

viktor x gn!reader

tw // heavy mentions of bullying, ableism, internalised ableism

cw: angsty smut, sub!viktor (but also dom! if you squint), reader worships vik, yearning, confidence issues, love confessions, sky is ooc, gory and religious metaphors, feelings with porn, arguing as foreplay, venting during penetration, viktor is traumatized (reader is too if you squint), size kink (tall reader), body worship, ruined glorious orgasm (in an angsty way), soulfucking, vik smokes, vik is a pillow princess

synopsis: after an alcohol incident, you find yourself with a chance to show viktor, the man you were mesmerized by, how much you desire him. but first, you need to crash the cold, sharp walls he built around himself. not knowing of the fragile lily inside them.

note: why did i tag it like on ao3. just so you know you’ll have to wait for the porn (about 2k words of feelings),(also english is not my first language.) enjoy!

art by seledynove on ig

4,1 k words

They say that alcohol reveals your true desires. It lets you loose of the fears that bind you. It changes you into unpolluted version of yourself.

And it did, back at Jayce’s party. You lost some drinking game, and the amount of pure vodka turned you into a jabbering mess. Saying some dumb shit after some ugly secret. To save your reputation, Sky took you upstairs, away from all the people.

In vain.

Because in the same room as the two of you, sat Viktor, smoking his cigarette and petting a cat. Away from all the people and noise.

He always kept people in a safe distance, not letting them too close to his walls.

You have been enamoured with this quiet man so much it got painful. His sharp mind, constantly analysing, his sweet accent, voicing both scientific jargon and snarky remarks. The handful of moments he spent with you, that you wanted to engrave deeply in your mind with the sharpest chisel you could find, putting care in all tiniest of details.

When he was tutoring you at his dorm, not getting slightly irritated at you not understanding the concepts, as you laid with your eyelids heavy on the desk. But his voice was so calming, you closed your eyes. Three hours of sleep, indeed, had its consequences. You woke up an intangible time later with a blanket on your back.

And Viktor was not mad at all.

When he asked you to walk him back to the dorm from a gathering. You, just you. Just the two of you, together in the cold night. As you listened to him after the whole time he spent quiet, ignored and ignoring. He spoke about science, rain puddles and loneliness.

You were only responding to his words, but you knew he was the only one that could truly understand you. The deep abyss of you, the one buried deeper than your bones, your heart and your blood (your soul).

You wanted to watch over him so much.

Oh, he must have felt so safe in the presence of you. You, someone like you might have given this lovely genius the tender feeling of being protected.

Or when you met him at the café. Hearing his soft voice say “Hello, Y/N”, not knowing how many times you will replay his greeting in your mind, putting care in how he accented every letter of your name. He ordered before you – double espresso with extra sugar. Waiting for your orders, he complained to you about the prices of the pastries.

You wanted these to repeat. And not by meeting him by accident, but by going to get that coffee together. Dedicate your money for his double espresso with extra sugar. Then look at him sipping the coffee.

You wanted to call him yours.

And every time he corrected or criticised you. And you didn’t even feel stupid. When he stood up for you, when you stood up for him. When he reluctantly asked you for help, unable to hide his pains anymore.

(And you did it with a canine honour.)

(You would do anything he asked of you.)

But also his pretty little body. Waist you could encircle with both hands. Tiny figure you could easily pick up, relieving his pains. Sweet face with sharp cheekbones and gentle, golden eyes, that you wouldn’t take your gaze of if he ever found himself in the same sheets as you (when he wakes up in your embrace after you laid your hands on his naked skin), (he then lets you help him with putting on his braces).

So pretty and delicate. So sharp it hurt. So lovely and petite, he turned your guts inside out, making you want to scream in anguish.

But you didn’t scream. You let your mouth do a much worse thing.

And now, Sky was laughing. She was laughing, laying on the table, parroting what you said at that party.

“Hey Vikie, me, you, hook-up, tomorrow?”

And you wanted to bury yourself alive.

“And how did he react?” You just asked and wanted to turn time three seconds back.

“He giggled and agreed. I bet he thought you were joking, though.” Sky stopped herself from laughing. “Just let him know you were serious, if you were.”

***

Next day, you saw him at the library. So dainty and graceful, as he scanned through the books at the engineering section. The students at the table, revising their material, eating crackers and laughing, made a stark contrast to the elegant Zaunite behind them.

“Isn’t it that cripple of Mr. Talis?,” asked a girl, covering herself with a big scarf.

“Poor Jayce, he must be so useless to him,” a guy, probably her boyfriend laughed. The girl giggled.

You wanted to intervene, but Viktor was faster. Taking advantage of the carpet’s softness and its ability to suppress the noise of his cane, he approached the students from behind. So sly.

“Fortunately, it looks like he’s about to die soon,” the girl snarked.

Viktor hit the iron leg of the table with the metal part of his cane.

“Who is that cripple you are talking about, huh?” He leaned on the table.

“No one…” The girl’s tone went up. “You don’t know them anyway.”

“I’m sure I know myself pretty well. Next time don’t gossip about people in their presence, alright?”

He went back to the bookshelf, visibly proud of himself. And you were proud of him too. So much you wanted to kiss all over his face and inform the universe: that’s my man!. (But he wasn’t and he never will.)

After all, it was just a hook-up.

The boy bared his teeth at him, muttering something against his breath. And you just caught yourself leaning against the bookshelf, staring at him with adoration. You fixed yourself.

Viktor got next to you, looking up at a thick volume above.

“Hi, Vik.” You greeted him, looking down to see his face. It was usually him who greeted you first. “About that hookup… I was being serious. Do you want to?”

Viktor got up on his toes and reached his arm, trying to get the book. “Hello, Y/N.” His voice was sharp, sounding like he was trying to thicken the wall between the two of you. “I do.”

“Do you need help?,” You asked. “Should I get that book for you?”

He said nothing, instead putting his cane up, hooking the book with it’s handle.

“No.”

The atmosphere was choking. You knew you did something wrong and the answer was coated in a thick, freezing fog.

“Are you okay?”

Viktor looked up at you, examining your expression like a calculation. “I am.” Then, he walked away to the librarian, trying to hide his limp.

Yes, the frail scientist had a sharp tongue and used it when needed. But he was always so gentle with you. Was it about the hookup? You were consumed by disgust with yourself. Making someone you adore so much talk to you as if you were just a leech.

For the rest of the day, you couldn’t focus. On classes, on your environment, even your sensations. If your head was not trapped in the colorless haze, you would definitely count, how many people you bumped on.

***

Viktor came to your dorm at the evening, when the firmament blackened and the air got cold. Gas lamps lightened up the snow with a yellow light. He walked like a soldier sent to his certain death, looking at you like you were pointing a gun and he had no bulletproof vest on his chest.

„You realize how horrible you are, Y/N? How cruel your little joke is?”

“What are you talking about?” You stood up from your desk chair.

“This.” He grunted. His face was in darkness, as the only light in the room was the gas lamp on your desk. “How you think you’re so funny for luring a cripple to your bedroom, making him think you two will fuck, just so you can brag about it.”

“Jumping to conclusions, huh? I expected better of a scientist.” You came closer to him. ‘And I have really appreciated you as one, Viktor.”

“As a scientist. You still just want to fuck me to have something to brag to your friends about at parties, do you?”

“I don’t. I thought you were smart.”

“I am. I don't fall for old tricks anymore.”

“This is not a trick!” Your gaze became blurry from tears. You jumped on Viktor, hugging him, as he almost sank in your arms. “I want to do it because you’re the most mesmerizing man I have ever met in my life. I truly never felt anything similar to anyone, but you.”

“That sounded… genuine. You’re a talented actor, Y/N.”

Your hands gripped Viktor’s fragile shoulders. “This is not an act!” You tried to catch a breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. Too fast to catch any air, just enough to rip your lungs.

Viktor curled up in your grip, golden eyes wide open. His tiny chest was rising and falling.

“Please, just say you don’t want to.” You tried to make your voice as gentle as possible. “I don’t want to hurt someone I adore so much.” Your hand rested on his cheekbone, your thumb caressing his delicate, pale skin.

“I haven’t experienced a real intercourse before. I would appreciate if I got to experience it with you.”

“Oh, Viktor, my Viktor.” You picked him up bridal style, nuzzling your face in his chest. He smelled of metal, gasoline and sweat. A tear from your eye soaked into the material of his clothing.

His hand gripped the cane like it was about to vanish, leaving him without any support.

You sat on the cold, white sheets of the bed, savoring his scent, the feeling of his protruding bones and the lightness of his silhouette against your lap.

You let yourself appreciate his disheveled beauty: messy, chestnut hair covered in sweat, droopy, golden eyes looking at you from under bushy brows, the dark eyebags, big nose, thin and chapped lips, dark moles, each one saying kiss me, sharp cheekbones ready to meet your palms, Adam’s apple and sternomastoid showing on his long neck.

Now you could build a cage and lock him in, then look at him for eternity.

“I’m sure you won’t be able to cum just by looking at me, Y/N.” Viktor commanded. “Undress me.”

You slid your fingers under the line of material covering the buttons in his vest. Your fingers did one careful movement after another, unbuttoning the vest covering his little torso. After the last button, he threw the clothing on the floor.

Another vest, black as the view of the window. It was easier. Just three buttons and the piece of cloth went on the floor where it belonged.

You took Viktor off your lap, sitting him on the edge of the bed. Then, you kneeled before him like an altar. He was so divine, looking at you with eyes golden like a reliquary. And you looked up at him. Guess the roles reversed. You left a kiss on his brace.

“Tell me how to take it off,” you asked, tracing your fingers through the cold metal holding his leg.

“You see this clasp? Loosen it.”

You did as he told. You slid the brace off his leg.

Your fingers traveled to the buttons in his pants. Unbuckling one after the other, receiving more view of his white boxers and bush that peeked from them. He was hard, you saw it bulging. And it was so wet it soaked. You slid his pants down.

In the name of fairness, you took of your shirt. The January cold hit your skin, giving you goosebumps.

Viktor’s legs were a piece of fine art. Between his slender thighs, there was a gap. The delicate skin was covered in thin, dark hair. He had another brace on his weak leg.

“Can I take that one off too?” You asked him, your hands encompassing his thigh.

He nodded. “You will have to unscrew this.”

And you did. His skin was painted with an imprint of the brace in the colour of wine. You traced your finger over the rosy lines. Milky skin on his inner thighs seemed sheer with blue veins showing through. Your lips touched him there, letting you delight in the coldness, velvety smoothness of it and the salty taste of his sweat. His chapped lips parted and you got to hear sounds so sweet you would never ever need sugar. You savored his raspberry flavored moans, sighs, whimpers (and you were hungry).

“Can I get up?” You looked up at him, at his honey-colored eyes, licking your lips from the icing that wasn't there physically.

“You can.”

You sat up on the bed and pulled Viktor onto your lap. He was leaning on you, his breath hitting your chin. Your legs between his. His small, agile hands on your chest. You took his hand and it felt like a feather. Despite being covered in sturdy skin, his bones resembled filigree.

„You’re so tiny. It’s endearing.”

„Say whatever, Y/N. I know tomorrow you will tell Sky how naïve I was and how you rather would fuck someone bigger and healthier.” Despite all the tenderness and devotion, his ice was left uncrushed. Even as he sat half-naked on your lap. You squeezed his wrist. “You can already go to her and laugh how I am a virgin.”

“You’re a virgin?”

“Let’s say I consider myself one. Only time I did it was when a guy used me as a dildo, came on me and left when my leg started cramping and he couldn’t bounce anymore. Then told his friends he fucked that cripple from the undercity. It must have been truly amusing for him.” He smirked, then leaned closer to your face, as you barely felt his hands on your shoulders (but you felt his golden stare penetrating through your skin). “I want to ask you for a favor, Y/N. Show me how is it like to be made cum by someone that respects you. If you do.”

“I do.”

“That sounded genuine.”

You continued undressing him, starting with his tie (so close to his Adam’s apple), (his neck was smaller your hand). You loosened it, letting the red leash fall onto the pile of cloth on the floor. Then the first button in his shirt.

Viktor’s delicate hand wrapped among your fingers. “The shirt stays on.”

“Please. Please, just two buttons,” you panted.

“Two buttons.”

So you undid them, exposing sharp collarbones on his narrow shoulders. You let your lips kiss his neck, your teeth – bite his porcelain skin, but not to bite it off and devour (and let his blood sprinkle onto the both of you like holy water of an aspergillum).

“You taste… holy.” You whimpered, feeling the tears in your eyes coating the image of his beauty.

Viktor turned his head to the side, and covered his mouth. Then he coughed, his tiny figure convulsing. Heartshattered by the painful sound, you tightened your grip, stroking his skin with your finger and hushing. After it stopped, he looked at you again, with a fog in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He said, shifting, almost about to leave your lap. “Go tell Sky how I’m turning you off.”

Your fingers clawed into his hips. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until I fulfill my promise.” You catched a piece of fabric of his boxers in between two fingers.

“Just… please, be gentle.” Viktor shifted from opening his legs to sitting perpendicularly, with his head turned towards you.

Since you were close, you took of his underwear, revealing a dark bush that his happy trail was leading to. You touched his cock like it was the redness of his heart and softness of his soul. Stroking as gentle as he asked you. Your hand swallowed all of his length.

He curled his legs up, hugged your neck and nuzzled his face into your throat.

“I’m glad I trusted you, Y/N.” He murmured, dripping in vulnerability. Your free hand stroked his chestnut hair.

“Really?”

“Really.” He commanded, stroking your back. “Now fulfill your promise and fuck me properly.”

You took Viktor’s face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. “And what position should I fuck you in?” He looked so tired.

“Nothing to demanding. No writhing or bending in half. Let me lay down.”

And you laid him down on the bed. He was so pretty you were about cry and let him drink your tears. With shirt falling off his shoulder. Legs crossed at the ankles, hands hugging his chest. You took of your bottom and underwear. He started trembling with golden eyes flickering.

“Would you mind if I had a smoke?”

He was looking at the pack of cigarettes and a lighter peeking out of the pocket in his pants. You bent down to take it out and gave it to him. Then you sat on top of him. Light of the fire illuminated his pale face, creating a shadow on his nose and cheekbones. You could almost feel the warmth. Tip of the cigarette shined with an orange spark. Smoke shown it’s outline in the air, vanished in it like it never existed. Viktor put the blunt between his chapped lips. He inhaled the nicotine into his weak and frail lungs. Smoke left his mouth.

You put a pillow under his leg, then traced the inner thigh with your finger. “Are you ready?”

“I think I do.” He husked. You took his hand into yours.

You groaned, as you made your bodies merge into one organism (careful not to shatter him). Viktor squeezed your hand tightly. A moan left his mouth. His eyes squeezed.

Your finger caressed his hand, as you moved slowly, in the same rhythm he was breathing. His eyes opened.

“Please, speak for me. Your accent is beautiful. Confess what made you grow your walls, if I deserve the knowledge of it.”

“You want to be the first one to know?” Viktor’s eyes glossed from tears. He inhaled more smoke. “Okay, then.”

“I’m listening.”

“There were some kids once. They befriended me, as I could make toys out of nothing for us to play. Sky told me they laughed in my absence at how I walk, how loud I breathe and how awkward I am.” His voice was composed and the cigarette was being fidgeted by his fingers.

You were right, he was really the only one who had the knowledge understand your underneath.

“Oh, and once when I was a teen,” he continued with a sad smile. You laid on him, careful not to crush his fragile body under yours. “A guy asked me for a hook-up in some abandoned factory. He took his friends. They all beat me up and broke my cane in half. But at least they had entertainment watching how I struggled to move.”

Your heart hurt, as Viktor’s words torn it apart, spilling blood and tears everywhere. And he was crying too. Grinding his teeth, golden eyes drenched in blood. It was the first time you saw him in such state.

„My baby, my baby. My poor baby…” He was like a dirty, broken porcelain doll. And you loved him like the child that used all the glue to put it back into one shape. “Who did this to you?”

“The Zaun kids.”

“Give me names.”

“For what? Half of them don’t remember and half are dead by now.”

Viktor barely finished saying the word now, and choked on air and smoke of his cigarette. You left his pelvis. Tears dripped from his eyes, and his long eyelashes were damp from them. He squealed like a baby dog covered in mud. You hushed at him, seeing as he curled into a ball underneath you. He snorted ugly.

„Please, dont cry…. You’re hurting yourself.” You were reminded of his lung disease making every breath of his painful. “Breathe.”

He tried, but it only resulted in shallow, shaky gasps. You swept a bunch of damp hair of his forehead.

“That’s it, Viktor. You’re doing so good. Just a bit more, okay?”

As your voice soothed him, the falling and rising of his chest slowed down. He opened his eyes. But his skin was still shaking.

“Can we continue?” he rasped, then covered his mouth to cough.

“If you are ready.”

“I am.”

You connected back with his body. Viktor whimpered, as you covered him like a blanket, warming his cold skin, binding your arms around his shoulders. You were his shield.

You moved, listening how his breaths of fading sorrow turn into breaths of ascending serenity.

***

And Viktor felt safe.

Under your figure towering just centimeters over him, as your repeated movements put him in a gentle bliss. He let his mouth sing sweet sounds just for you and nobody else to hear. Smoke escaped the tip of the cigarette he held.

He exposed his crippled leg, rotting lungs and the mix of skin and bones he was, for you to worship. He permitted you to touch all the vulnerability of the fragile lily inside him. Dropping the weapon that was distrust and letting you under his delicate skin (the lily was blooming).

And you received him in all his awkwardness.

You kissed his cheekbone and he ascended. He hugged you, as if you were about to vanish, clawing his fingers into the skin of your back. Pleasure blinded him, and he only knew he was about to convert into a soaking mess. His lips cried out moans until his breath was to heavy to voice anything lower than ultrasound. He saw God on the ceiling, but it was just you fulfilling the promise.

“Fuck.”

And his leg electrocuted him back into the weak thing he was before.

You moved away. Gave him space.

He curled into a ball of pain. Leg shot metal nails up his spine, tearing his flesh apart. Viktor weeped quietly, not shedding a tear. He was just shaking.

“I'm sorry,” he sniffled.

You hushed at him. “Do you want to stop?”

He nodded. You brushed your hand along his spine, then cradled him in between your arms and legs like a nest. It made his pain bearable. You were as wet as him (sweat of two bodies merged into one fluid).

Your strong hands took his leg and massaged the pain out of his muscles. Viktor moaned in relief. After you chased away his pains, you laid down with him and covered both of you in a blanket.

Viktor rolled over to your side. You were as naked as in your birth, and he was wearing just a shirt. He unbuttoned it, letting you see his back brace. No, he took it off completely and knew you were looking with adoration at what he saw as rotten. He knew your eyes savored in the sight of his small, bony arms, brace that held him in place and protruding collarbones like they were a feast. You encircled your arms around his waist.

“You’re the first I ever let saw me naked that was not a doctor,” he said.

“It’s a privilege for me.”

And he studied your face. (He made a scientific breakthrough by discovering how a human looked while seeing an angel.) Your eyes were glossed with tears.

You really had only pure intentions. How couldn’t you?

The same you who fell asleep at his table and murmured his name unconsciously? And how you just before that could not grasp any of the concepts? He hid his annoyance, knowing how sensitive you were.

The same one who walked him back home after that gathering? The one that listened to his thoughts (not judging a single word), when there was just the two of you on the street? Either way, he preferred to talk to only one person, since he couldn't break through in a group when everyone was talking over each other. You made him feel so safe, too. Towering over the tinyness of him like a stronghold.

The one he was always meeting at the café (he even remembered your order)? You, who listened to him complain about the prices and didn’t even call him a grump. If you only didn’t have to hurry for the class and stayed a bit more alongside him as he worked in the café.

The picture of you and Sky laughing, as you told her how pathetic of a lover Viktor was became so absurd he’d rather believe in God.

You smiled with teary eyes, then pulled him closer.

“I want to lie in the same grave as you, Viktor.”

#viktor x reader #viktor x reader smut #arcane x reader #sub viktor #viktor x male reader #sub viktor x reader #viktor x gn reader #viktor x gn!reader #viktor x m!reader #viktor x f!reader #please reblog and leave feedback !!#Spotify

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waffledforbreakfast · 9 months ago

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Roommate - [MUTI! BLLK X F!READER]

Staring: Rin, Shidou, Sae, Niko, Kaiser, Ness, Otoya, Karasu, Reo

[ BLLK Scenario Masterlist ]

TW: heavy ooc (I MEAN HEAVY. forgive me, it gets a bit better later chapts i swear), bad grammar, bad spelling, bad formatting, etc.

Bllk as your Roomate

>Rin

It feels like he’s never home. But he is. You two always somehow eat dinner at the same time, so you eat together. He doesn’t mind :> You ask about his day (he’s not used to people caring, is secretly happy) and he’ll tell you about all the stupid things Bachira did that day LOL

He’ll even invite you to watch horror movies with him (he tells himself it’s because he can’t finish his popcorn)

If you have extra tickets to a festival, he’ll gladly come along! (he insists it’s because it’d be a waste of tickets if he didn’t)

A/N: Imagine if he runs into bachira and isagi there LOL

>Shidou

Y’all know about his morning routine- right??

No need for an alarm, this rat is never late.

Will barge into your room without asking, and rant to you about his day

He’s a great listener though, and he’ll offer to do your makeup! (He will be sad if you say no :c)

Great relationship advice. You have no clue where it comes from

He can and will comment on your outfits

Will draw you (i love artist Shidou)

Brings you left-overs from when he goes out (unless he dragged u along LOL)

>Sae

This man wakes up early. Too early.

He’d wake you up too (accidently)

Used to order take out like everyday. Until you came along and actually cooked good meals.

The first time he just eyed your food with a blank expression. You had no idea what he wanted XD

you awkwardly offered him some, he couldn’t resist and tried it

He then said he’d pay you to cook for him

When he goes out and sees smt you might like, he’ll send you a picture and ask for your thoughts. If you take too long he’ll just buy it

Will tell you about his day (after he naps)

>Niko

Will often just knock and peak into your room to see what you’re doing for no particular reason other than wanting to check up

Runs to you after reading a new chapter of his manga

“nOOOOO THEY KILLED HIM😭” sorta vibes yk? If you’re reading the same thing, you’d have to stop him from giving your spoilers, to which he’d wait patiently for you to finish so he can rant to you

Share your theories on animes/mangas together

Can’t cook, but he’ll buy the materials if you need them :3

Please get this boy a plushie, I think he’d love it sm

Man has his earbuds in 24/7 tho ;v;

He’d come into your room to steal manga

>Kaiser

Keeps calling you Ness outta instinct

This lead to you not cooking for him anymore (you’re not too sure when you agreed to cook for him in the first place, but he just kinda expected it-)

Will complain about said food, but then apologize and beg you to keep cooking once he realized you’re serious about stopping

Asks for your opinion on a lot of things “This outfit looks good right?” “Who do you think is the best striker?” “You like milk?!?!” etc. though you’re not sure if he actually cares about your answer

Kaiser would pace, rant, and talk to himself on a (concerningly) normal basis

This man would silently fold anytime you give him a genuine compliment though

He finds your affirmations very comforting, that’s why he asks you to compliment him so often LOL

He’d often give you bread. Just- bread. He’ll come home with a bagged baguette in his hands, and give it to you with a proud smile

>Ness

This man does *everything*

Ness calls you Kaiser on instinct too

Will get on his knees and apologize when he does so

Genuinely shocked when you shrug it(the kaiser calling) off

Non-stop talking about Kaiser turns into non-stop talking about you XD

“Omg you look so pretty today :D” “Let me dry your hair for you :3” “Can I braid it?” etc.

Has no clue what to do when you ask him about his day because no one has ever asked him before

But he’ll start ranting about it, and look over at you every few seconds to see if you’re listening and if you’re ok with him going on :>

Insists on doing all the house chores (except for cooking, he likes your cooking, but’ll still do it if asked)

>Otoya

…Does anyone actually want this man as a roomie??(Me.)

Would leave a mess EVERYWHERE and is genuinely shocked when you don’t offer to clean up

The way he acts has you questioning his upbringing…

Eats all your food, brings people over constantly, probably broke a plate and didn’t bother cleaning it up

The only thing he offers in return is to make out-

His jaw drops when/if you decine

>Karasu

Watches TV in the living room typa guy (ik that’s what ur supposed to do, but let’s be honest, y’all are prob cooped up in your room reading this)

Whenever you leave your room and enter his line of vision, he just stares

It’s genuinely unsettling. So like a normal person, you stare back. You’ve now been staring at each other for 2 minutes

Any/all gifts Karasu gives are things he observed from you (ex.Favourite food, scent, show, etc.) and I’m sure you’ll do the same in return

Will message you random pics he finds funny

“[Pic of a party hat on a trash can] haha, look at this”

If you cook for him, he’ll order takeout for you

>Reo

He’s either the best roomie, or the worst-

You guys never run out of food or supplies, and always have something fun to do

He’ll take you out on the weekend to do fun stuff, and you two get along pretty well!

As long as you don’t question why he has so many toothbrushes, he’s pretty chill :>

A/N: no an :3

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tht0nesimp · 4 months ago

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Muse

A obsessive stalkery dark Pelle x reader

tw: Pelle is definitely not a good person in this, mayhem are not good people in this, kidnapping, violence, self harm, mentions of death, I’m not happy with this I won’t lie

Contains behaviors the real people didn’t have, this is a dark characterization—do not take this piece of work as anything other than a ooc 3am idea! Please enjoy my brain!

first time writing for this person, wish me luck! I hate the beginning of this but I’m coping 🥰

(if you don’t like me writing this type of content for these people, scroll! Get outta here!/(seriously man, it’s cool if this ain’t your thang)

The first thing you noticed was the dark. Typically when you woke up, you were graced with the sun(however minimal it was in Norway) shining through your window—sometimes to your dismay. The second had been that you opened your eyes, but there was nothing but a black sheet over your eyes, which brought you to a third revelation of finding you were unable to untie because your hands had unfortunately been tied behind your back and even if they weren’t, you were in some strange reverse prayer position and your arms were practically numb from laying on them.

the final initial thought was that you were in an enclosed space—the panic came the most at that, what felt to be wood surrounded your frame, suspicious wet stains being felt just faintly on the padding you were on, the slight cushioning being comfortable enough.

there must have been hours of silence and waiting, from pleading to cursing to sobbing to bargaining to hopeless rambles. Eventually, there was a faint noise outside of the coffin, the sound of a guitar, so quiet it you hadn’t been on your highest alert you would have missed it.

instruments played and faint vocals ring just loud enough to hearthrough your prison for a few minutes until footsteps can be heard; eventually they stop just outside your confines, muffled words were all you could hear for a brief second. Your fear climbed as the voices stopped for a moment.

Suddenly, a loud creaking noise came from above you and while you couldn’t see anything, you could tell it was multiple people looking at you “please-I-don’t have any money please just untie me, I feel atrophied and and I have nothing to offer” the vigor of your previous sobbing wasn’t present but you could feel tears wet the blindfold. You felt something pressed over your mouth; you came to find it was tape soon enough

“Euro…what is this?” You could hear someone say in a tone too quiet and calm for this to be anything but terrifying “consider it a gift, thought it’d lift your inspiration” a casual voice spoke, you could hear the man walk but still remained blind. Someone leans down to your ear and you feel long hair tickle your face “I’m gonna un-blindfold you then we can work our way up to getting you out” the sheet of black is lifted, and a peculiar blonde face stares at you, a man with black hair stands next to the coffin with a bottle of coke in his hand, two more men stare disinteresting at you and quickly scurry away. You hear them leave and the blonde man lifts himself a bit.

“I’m Pelle, I’m telling you my name because you are not leaving okay?” He gestures slowly, like your were stupid. You nod, trying to be agreeable “I just don’t know what to do with you..” the man grabs the front of the rope, dragging it like a harness and lifting you up a bit, pressure finally releasing from your shoulders and elbows. “Please if you let me go I’ll-I’ll keep it between us just let me-“ the man shushed you, taking your face and turning it, looking at your proportions “You would be a good muse, if I ever decided to draw people” he throws you back a bit, seeming bored and dazed

“A-Are you gonna kill me?” You stare at Euronymous, trying to seem strong “I don’t think he will” the man shrugs with painful indifference. Pelle squats down to your level “I’m gonna move you into a different room okay? It’s just down the hall” he grabs the front of the rope, making your numb body try to regain feeling to follow him, legs barely moving as you take small steps forwards. A light oak door opens in front of the two of you, a room with a mattress, a desk, and writing in Swedish on the wall stands infront of you.

“I moved the coffin out yesterday, I’ll move it in later, you can sleep in it for now” he drops down onto the mattress, leaving you with your arms tied and on wobbly legs. He just stares, eyes seemingly heavy as he slowly blinks. “Come…Here” there’s a sense of hesitation in his voice, like he’s calling a stray cat as his lifeless eyes bore into your. Unsure steps eventually lead you to him, taking the hint to sit down on the edge of the mattress, surprise washes over you as a lanky arm pulls against your torso.

He slowly shifts into position, spooning you with less of a gentleness, and more of a lack of effort. “I’m not sure of anything yet, but your quite….warm” his hot breath fanned over your ear, and after some time, you were pretty sure he fell asleep.

♪───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ────♪

Time passed differently, and Pelle certainly didn’t keep a calendar(your request was met with squinted eyes and a tilted head, blonde hair draping like curtains between you two as he leaned down a bit) so it was admittedly hard to tell, but you had figured months had passed since that rather unfortunate day. It wasn’t the worst, Pelle and his bandmates never hurt you or even really touched you, but more often than not it seemed like Pelles measly funds went to your food and the band. In most scenarios trying to convince your kidnapper to eat would be crazy, but as the warmer season came and Pelle slept without a shirt on one time, the intense hollows around his ribs and spine made even your seemingly scraped away heart shrink at the sight, and you often found yourself struggling to keep your hand from feeling the spaces in between his ribs.

“Good morning” the accent made his voice sound strange at times, and your sleep addled brain often found itself struggling to comprehend his awkward rambles at night or at the crack of dawn. But now was fine, his staring wasn’t nearly as intense as normal, his eyes holding a sluggish energy.

“Would you like something to eat, Hjärtat?” He wouldn’t answer when questioned about the word, simply looking at you as if you were the interesting thing around, eyes widened and the hint of a smile ghosting over his pale lips. “No thank you, Pelle” he looks at you unamused, leaving silence for a minute or so “what would you like to eat?” “Just—i don’t know, just whatever you have the energy to get” he looks for a moment, and some part of you wondered if you could see past the mess of blonde hair if you’d see loading symbols replace his pupils but the thought evaporates as he practically disappears out of the room

When he returns, he has an orange and a bowl of cornflakes, still crisp and freshly poured. “Thank you Pelle” “you can call me me dead…” “no thank you!” You shut down the normal fight, where you end up screaming about how calling your kidnapper by a nickname is fucking crazy while Pelle stands disinterested. “Whatever” he collapses on the floor, pulling his t shirt off and laying next to the mattress whilst picking absentmindedly at a threat near a spring

You grab his hand and look at the redness around the nails, before letting go and continuing with eating your now soft breakfast. “Necrobutcher asked me if I was in love with you” he states, blue eyes drifting to yours “What did you say?” You ask, returning his eye contact “Nothing, I just went back to practicing” “alright” you hadn’t really expected him to say yes, the only people you could say he loved was his family—the conclusion primarily coming from the time you’d seen the photo of his sister in his wallet while he was giving euro some cash, he’d actually really smiled and talked for a few minutes about her. However cold and rotten his heart was, it seemed to still be pumping out love every once in a while.

“Do you like comics?” He watches it process in your head “oh uhm, I suppose so” he digs around his desk until he pulls out a few comics “Pelle, not all of these are in English” Pelle furrows his brows before smiling a little “pictures” he points. “Alright then…I figure your off to the woods” he nods and lean over you, expecting the typical ritual, you kiss him on the cheek and he puts his hand over it for a moment before running off, occasionally the days when the routine started (after his friends had gotten Pelle drunk and told him to start asking) would lead to you seeing the faintest bit of pink on his face before he would slip off into the woods, occasionally dropping a small container of snus or otherwise.

he walks out slower than normal, waving before he closes the door to the room. Leaving just you and a pile of comic books on his mattress—just like after a show, he would likely return proud of himself for killing something or playing well, and consider you his spoils for such a good job. Some days you consider screaming at him like you used to, you’d tell him to go to hell if you’re you could, but more often than not it seemed you two were already there.

So you settle for wondering if the feeling will ever go away.

#I’m not tagging this heavily because….#AHHHHH #Dark!pelle ohlin #yandere blog #Yandere mayhem #Mayhem x reader #pelle ohlin x reader #DARK #YANDERE #Yandere Pelle #candiesactualfics

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amiaclone · 5 months ago

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Thank you! I love getting compliments by my writing

By leader I’m assuming the manager guard? If so I’ll do it I hope I’m right 😭

Tw: Probably really ooc

I unfortunately can’t find a gif of him so just google the black manager guard if you don’t know who I’m talking about

Leader guard x gender neutrel! Reader

(Readers gonna be a hoodie if you don’t mind)

You sighed how long has it been?

Killing in general sucks but being forced to do it? Wow

You unfortunately lost one of the games in the last squid game it was i think the honeycomb game? You however survival instinct took in and ran and hid for a good while trying to get out of the Island

Unfortunately due to all the cameras and lack of hiding spaces you were caught but due to how long it took to find you and how much you begged and begged….The vips apparently or something requested Front man for you to live they didn’t care what they’d do with you but you were entertaining

So you became a guard honestly it was better then dying but killing hundreds of people made you sick to your stomach

Although you were promised to be let go after this game which was relieving but still….you don’t think you were ever gonna forget this

You ended up becoming a co officer? Too bad the officer front man of the workers was the most annoying guy ever…..

You were disgusted he didn’t care about the amount of lives he was taking and watching people being tortured is entertaining somehow…..and the selling the organs bit

He however unknowingly to you took a liking to you he never saw your face no matter how many times he’d insist you never took it off it’s not like it was an order he just….wanted to see your pretty face

He liked your random short snarky comments you’d make occasionally whenever you’d get comfortable enough

Now here you are with him annoying you about whatever as he kept his eyes on the cameras making fun of half the players

“Player 233 is so stupid imaging not eating your food when it’s your only meal a day-“

“I don’t care-“

“Oh come on babe can’t you just pretend to agree me and you can both agree it’s boring.”

*You rolled your eyes under your mask*

“Yeah the second we get distracted I get the blame and get killed? Yeah right”

“He thinks you’re somewhat entertaining weirdly it’ll probably be me.”

*You didn’t say anything what’s there to say?*

“……So wanna make fun of the players?”

“No.”

“Ok then, your loss….”

*You were shocked he agreed somewhat but atleast he shut up*

“Hey since nobody’s here why don’t we take our masks off can barely breathe in these….”

“Why do you always wanna take our masks off?” *It’s not like you didn’t want to or anything but the way he always insisted was he testing you? Planning something? Being paranoid in this case is perfectly justifiable*

“Well you sound cute your face is probably even cuter….besides we’ve known each other for weeks you have to atleast think I’m tolerable?” *He teased*

*You scoffed* “Yeah so tolerable…” *You pondered in thought it is getting hot in here it’s not like you can’t breathe in the mask or anything but eh you never seen his face either you haven’t seen any of the workers faces now thinking about it-*

*Your thoughts were interrupted by him taking it off he was…..attractive. Eh personality is kinda bad.*

*You quickly regained your composure* “Sweet.”

*He winked jokingly*

“Bet you weren’t expecting this face were you?” *He went through his pocket and got a cigarette and smoked puffing some air out.* “Wanted to smoke.”

*You groaned in disgust* “In this room was it really necessary?” *He shrugged* “It’s not like it’s gonna kill you.”

*You sigh taking your mask off and using your hand to wave the smoke air out of your face you noticed him staring*

“What?” *You asked in an annoyed tired tone*

“Nothing.” *He smirks a bit*

“You’re just really pretty that’s all.”

Hope you liked it!

#x reader #character #fanfiction #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 x reader #squid game black guard #squid game black hoodie #squid game black guard x reader #squid game black hoodie x reader #squid game season 2 black guard x reader #squid game season 2 black hoodie x reader

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eternal-adoration · 11 months ago

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Sukuna dating headcanons

Tw: slight angst? Ooc Sukuna probs, HeianEra!Sukuna, for the first part, fluff ofc <3, Shibuya mention

A/N: I'll write Choso headcanons after this silly willy <3

You used to be his concubine in the Heian Era.

In the beginning, Sukuna never really paid mind to you. You were just one of the many others in his harem.

But then, one night, he came back from slaughtering villages, his body covered in blood (which wasn't his, obviously).

While Uraume was running a bath for him, he was walking towards his chambers until you bumped into him.

Sukuna got annoyed at your recklessness and wanted to end your measly life then and there. But then he could see a glimmer of worry in your eyes at the sight of his bloodied state. You were brave enough to stand up and touch his bicep, asking if he was okay and if you should call Uraume.

He quickly dismissed you after that, but ever since, he felt a weird feeling in his stomach when he thought about or saw you.

Soon enough, he started to spend more time with you, spoiling your more than his other concubines. He made you sleep with him, sit on his lap while he was sitting on his throne, listening to some measly sorcerers who tried offering him all kinds of things so he would spare their lives.

Sukuna genuinely enjoyed your presence, not seeing you as just a concubine anymore. He liked hearing you talk about your day when he was gone.

Sometimes, he brought you the heads of people he killed as gifts, but he soon stopped after you made it clear you didn't want heads in your room. (Oh well, more food for him!)

One night, when he was lying with you in his bed, watching over your sleeping form, he promised himself that he would make you his Queen one day and that he'd conquer all with you by his side.

But that dream didn't become a reality as he was sealed away the day he wanted to declare you as his queen.

Or so he thought.

When he killed Jogo in Shibuya, he suddenly felt the presence of your soul nearby. Turning around, he sees Uraume kneeling behind him together with someone else. It was you. His concubine, his supposed to be Queen. You looked exactly the same as he remembered, and he could swear he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of you.

(Anyways, time for the actual headcanons)

He likes holding you close at all times. Sleeping? He's big spooning you with his face buried in your hair, smelling your fragrance. Sitting? You're sitting on his lap, no discussion. Taking a walk? He'd secretly love to carry you bridal style, but since you're a human being with some decency, you don't allow him to. Which means Sukuna has to settle for wrapping an arm around your waist

If you cook for him, he'd first complain saying how he already has a chef, but he'll eat it nonetheless

Makes fun of you and calls you names from time to time, but you know he doesn't mean anything bad behind it. It's just his love language! (Also, if someone else makes fun of you, then you can bet you'll find their head on your porch <3)

Sukuna Ryomen isn't only the King of Curses but also the King of Jealousy. If you have any guy friends, you bet Sukuna's gonna get all up in your business whenever they're involved. You're his, so why should you spend time with other men while you have him?!

If you have plushies, he'll throw them away or destroy them because he finds it stupid that you're cuddling with them and not with him.

When he found out how to use a smartphone, you kept getting spam notifications of texts and missed calls from him <3

For someone as big as he is, his footsteps are very silent. He uses that to his advantage when he's sneaking up behind you to give you a good scare. But he also likes "spying" on you at home when you're doing simple domestic tasks like cooking or cleaning. He likes seeing you sway your hips while dusting the ceiling or the way you hum and even softly sing while stirring in the pot of soup. Sometimes, you catch him staring, though, and when you do, he will never head the end of it.

Go back to Sukuna's Master List?

Go back to the JJK Master List?

#mishietishie #jjk #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna

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evilfrogcereal29 · 8 months ago

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ANOTHER NIKTO X READER I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THESE SPECIFIC SCENARIOS JUST COME TO MIND DJDHSKS

this is made with a fem!reader in mind, I try to write everything kind of GN, so sorry, but gender is kind of important for this specific piece cause reader's mistaken for a man and doesn't correct anyone to hide their identity

Tw: drinking, swearing, google translated russian, probably a bit ooc Nikto, I make him a lil softer than he probably is.

Nikto x Disguised(?)!fem!reader

- "You're pretty small for a guy"

- you were more than used to that sentence by now, and you never once saught to correct or challenge anyone on it. Who cared? There where more important things than whats in your pants, and it was better that everyone thought you you a man anways.

- You were very private about your identity, you had friends and family back home you didn't want getting wrapped up in this shit. You've seen how petty people can be for just a little bit of revenge.

- you wore a full suit of gear that masked your feminine form, including a helmet with a built in voice changer. (You sounded similar to that of a metro-cop from half-life 2, but with way more clarity)

- You didn't even push the man narrative, everyone just naturally started using he & him for you, unaware of your past or who you really were.

- You were, for the most part, one of the guys. Your file even stated you as male. A serious oversight by the higher-ups.

- So then why was Nikto currently pointing a gun amd looking at a woman in *your* armor?

- *Funny timeskip that i added here because I thought it'd be a bit confusing jumping between these two bullet points*

- You often frequented the showers late at night, it was the only time you could wash yourself uninterrupted by others prying eyes.

- You never realized how often you and Nikto barely evaded seeing eachother. You’d finish, disappear from the showers back to your room, and Nikto would come in, with the same idea of a late shower as you within a few minutes to as soon as 30 seconds after you departed.

- Tonight though, maybe by fate, you both got the idea at the same time, unfortunately for Nikto, you walked just a little faster.

- Nikto almost immediately turned around when he heard the water running, there was no point. Yet there was also frustration, and an overwhelming urge to confront whoever it was. Who the hell was showering at this hour?! He’s never had this problem before, who was deciding to give him problems tonight?

- He cracked the door open, head peeping inside, his eyes widen big at you- whoever you were- in his fellow solider's suit.

- Now it should've occured to someone as intelligent as Nikto that this *was* his fellow solider, but he had known you for a while, and had never suspected anything before, he would've known if you weren't anyone you said you are...right? Had you truely bested Nikto?

- He pulled out his gun right as you seemed to notice him, letting out a yelp. You were a confident 'man' on the battlefield, but now, you were red in the face, caught in a web of lies you didn't even mean to string.

- *Timeskip from earlier ends here :3 there will be more timeskips tho because my ADHD ass LOVES giving context*

- "ублюдок, ты кто? Where is our teammate? What did you do to him?" He growled, cocking his gun and aiming it right at the girl's head.

- Your eyes are wide, as big as half-dollars, and threw your hands up into the air.

- "Nikto its me! Its me!" You plead. Only receiving a sneer and angry grunt

- "You think I'm a stupid man, маленькая девочка?!" He yelled, stepping closer, finger twitching on the trigger, his bloodlust rising.

- The running water is the only thing breaking the terrifying tension in the room, you're mind is racing, how do you get this killer off your back. You needed to prove who you were. Think! Think!

- "Please don't shoot- let me prove it, I can prove it's me Nikto. I-..." You feel your cheeks heating up, god this was fucking embarrassing, and Mr. Emotionless here is the last person you wanted to slip up with. Even if you did prove yourself, he might kill you just because he felt a little angry that you didn't tell him personally. You gulp at that thought.

- Nikto grins under his mask, amused, truely, his gun lowers a bit.

- "Go on." He muses, "tell me something only HE would know." He smirks, thinking about how he's going to lay your body in the shower and watch the blood seep down the drain.

- *Time skip backwards again here, cause I love me some backstory :3*

- Your mind races. You and Nikto weren't 'friends' per se, but you had a past, you had met him right around when he had come out of rehabilitation after his sickening torture. He was worse back then, he would snap on teammates. He snapped on you, pinning you to the wall once, eyes dilated and filled with a primal kind of rage, he pressed down on your neck.

- "Мы сломаем твои кости, как ст��кло, маленький муравей."

- You had picked up some Russian from being around him and other fluent operators, knowing a decent amount, and in that moment you knew just enough to fear for your life.

- Thankfully Minotaur was in the area, and while he enjoyed watching a good scuffle bewteen two soldiers, he knew very well that this one would end with you dead, breaking up you two with very careful wording and while staying a very far away distance from the still ravenous, blood-thirsty Nikto.

- Surprisingly, you didn't completely avoid him after that, not like you could, the allegiance seemed to love put you two on the same team. Something about the variety of both your skillsets.

- It was true, you had to admit. You and Nikto worked very professionally on the field, quick and easy kills, communicating everything with head & hand gestures instead of talking. It was preferable for the both of you. And always ended with success. So maybe thats why you always ended up near eachother. Still, you always tried to give the Psychotic man the benefit of the doubt. Knowing the story of his past, as told to you by Rodion, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy for the broken man.

- It eventually built up to you having a very personal moment with Nikto.

- You were on a long-term mission, you'd been deployed in Yakutsk, Russia. Yes, one of the coldest fucking places in the entire country. Reaching nearly unalivable conditions- In your opinion- but of course Nikto never complained, he liked the cold after all.

- You had shacked up in an abandoned home on the outskirts of the city for the night. You laid on the one of the dirty mattresses left there by the old tenants, whoever they were.

- You shivered and shook like a rabid animal. Unable to sleep from how cold you were. Even in your full body of armor, it wasn't doing enough. You had those crap emergency blankets but even they, and the addition of the thin poo-stained mattress beneath you, didn't help with the very persistent cold that seemed to seep in through every crack of the home possible.

- You can only assume Nikto is fast asleep, at least, until you hear a soft humming, one that turns into soft singing, its gruff, and deep, but as you continue to listen, you find it rather soothing.

- "Здравствуйте, девочки Здравствуйте, мальчики Смотрите на меня в окно...." He sang, tapping his foot to a beat in his head. It seemed there *were* moments where nikto wasn't being mentally tortured by his own mind. Instead, filled with a melody from childhood.

- You rolled over and saw Nikto sitting criss-cross on the other mattress, his mask was slightly lifted up, but it was too dark to make out anything but the outline of his chin, and there was something in his hand, a bottle of Vodka.

- Now that you found weird, Nikto usually wasn't one to live up to the stereotype, in fact, he barely drank at all. Sure, he did drink lots in his youth, and still did a few lines of coke or toked off the occasional blunt when the offer somehow came up, but he was sworn off alcohol for the most part, especially vodka or anything strong, it gave him extremely awful headaches, he was hangovers bitch.

- You finally sat up after a few minutes, alerting him to your presence, his singing ceased and he pulled his mask back down over his mouth quickly, shooting you a dangerous glare.

- you frowned through your helmet that you kept on, blinking tired, dissapointed eyes at him.

- "Don't stop, I didn't know you could sing like that Nikto... Or that you drank-"

- "Господи, заткнись, сука. ты ничего обо мне не знаешь" he said defensively, you couldn't recognize every word but you recognized every swear, flinching at his vile language, but recognizing the slight slur in his words. A sign of inebriation.

- "Nikto...? You're drunk?" You try to ask, but he follows it up with a quick and defiant 'no' and more swearing. You let him, knowing better than you argue with the bullish man. Let him stop seeing red, than you could keep talking.

- "So.. what about tonight made you finally want to drink, I thought you liked the cold?" You ask, tilting your head.

- "I'm not drinking cause I'm sad." He corrected you coldly, setting the bottle down beside him, "The opposite actually."

- Nikto was...happy drinking? You didn't think normal people did that, but than again Nikto wasn't normal so- you supposed it made sense.

- "Whats the occasion?" You ask after a moment of consideration, and now that you thought about it, it was a bit rude, let the man be happy. occasion or not.

- "Everything is... Quiet tonight. I think we're just happy to be somewhere that feels like home." he says, tapping the side of his head.

- You're happy for him. He deserves moments like these. You find yourself scooting closer, settling down beside him when he doesn't shoo you away.

- "Tell me about your home, Nikto." You ask politely, taking him by surpise, catching him in a moment of vulnerability in his nostalgia and drunk-ness. The usual softness in your real voice, even with the voice changer, was present.

- He goes on to describe his early life to you, albiet, in bit and pieces, it's obvious he's holding back, relinquishing some details while stating others blantly. He also just doesn't remember much. Everything from birth to 5 years old is a blur for him. He just remembers his older brother and mom, and a vague outline of a father figure, but he left before Nikto's 6th birthday, Nikto can't remember his face or the sound of his voice anymore.

- He pointed out the song he was singing earlier, he listened to it often when he was a younger man. It reminded him of his mother and brother, of sitting at the dinnertable eating warm meals as a family whenever they scrounged up enough money to have the luxury of doing so. The laughter and love they shared, even if things around them were lackluster.

- He details early life in the military, his becoming of a spy and his... Eventual Downfall and capture.

- "One job, I got messy... I wasn't looking where I was going I..." He trailed off. He stopped telling his story and you reached a hand out, resting a hand on his shoulder.

- "Its okay. I get it. You don't need to tell me anymore if it hurts." You reassure, seeing the way he tenses under your pitiful touches.

- "I deserved it." He tried to continue, but you interupted him

- "None of that now. Just shut up and think about the now." You scold, noticing the wide eyes stare Nikto gives you.

- No one has ever told him to shut up before. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks underneath his mask, thank god he was wearing one.

- "Sorry." He muttered, and now you both sat there a bit stunned and quiet. The moment you were experiencing together left the both of your heart's racing, wondering a million things about the other.

- You because you had never seen such a soft, apologetic side of Nikto before, a man with no regrets, no empathy. He seemed so... Human?

- And Nikto because he couldn't believed he was being so soft and apologetic with someone. He always had his walls up. His mental fortress guarded with maximum security at all times. But you caught him when the Vodka- 3/4th a bottle of it that he found stashed in a drawer somewhere in the shack- had him weak, and you didn't take advantage of him. Didn't judge or even really cast much pity towards him. He didn't like being pitied. Fucking hated it actually. But here you were, rubbing his shoulder, which wasn't exactly an *unwelcomed* gesture, and sitting in silence with him. The voices were at bay tonight. Right now. It was just him, or whatever was left of Andre.

- "I used to walk 4 miles to school every morning in the freezing cold, and almost got hit by a pickup truck and stolen by a pack of wolves doing it." He suddenly blurted out, the previously warm vibes of the room returning as Nikto casted the past out of his mind. You were right. He was being too emotional, he should focus on the now.

- And right now, the booze brought him back to fonder memories, ones of childhood mischief and near death experiences.

- You looked at him with wide eyes and couldn't help the burst of laughter that followed, something that Nikto didn't find insulting, in fact, he was smiling too, underneath that mask.

- "You think that's funny, just wait til I tell you where I got my first tattoo..." He chuckled with his thick, russian accent.

- You and Nikto shared stories all night. And never once did Nikto question it, like when you told him you took ballet, or when you ripped your prom dress, or even when you told him about your first boyfriend. He shrugged it off. He wasnt exactly as straight as a board either. And the military exposed him to people from all walks of life.

- Of course, Nikto still thought you were a *man* at this point. A very effeminate acting man, but a man none the less.

- *Time skip ends here SORRY IF U HATED THAT SJSHSK*

- But now Nikto's world was flipped on it's head, as you combed through your mind, you find yourself going back to that silly song he sang. Trying to recall the words.

- "Здравствуйте.... дев-вочки.." you started, cringing at your poor pronouncations of the words and shrilly little singing voice.

- Nikto's eyes widen in recognition, all former sneers and snickers long gone. He wasn't joking anymore, and it seemed you weren't either.

- "Здравствуйте, мальчики..." You continued, your cheeks growing impossibly red, "С-Cмотрите на меня в окно.."

- "That's enough. Stop. Stop it." Nikto demanded, aiming his gun right at you again, "how do you know that? That night?"

- "Cause it's me Nikto! I'm a girl!" You exclaimed, getting annoyed yourself. You practically just performed for the bastard, and now he was still trying to shoot you, just like you figured.

- There was a moment of silence. And Nikto stood there, as if needing to process everything that just happened.

- "Put on the helmet." He demands. And you don't defy him, placing your helmet on, the change in your voice is like night and day,

- "I didn't think it mattered this much, I'm sorry." You said genuinely. Your voice deepened to it usual state, confirming your indentity.

- There a few more moments of silence before Nikto coughs, grabbing your attention. He straightens himself. Lowering his gun and putting the safety back on. There's a sense of embarrassment in his movements, he's tense, and avoiding your eye contact.

- "It...it doesn't matter. We'll just shower tomorrow morning." He says and hurries off. Another vulnerable moment with you, what was wrong with him?! He hated himself right now. For having never realized, and for having threatened you.

- Nikto did hold you in high regards, not that he would ever tell you or another soul. He respected your dedication to the work, and after that night in the cabin, a mutual but unspoken trust was formed bewteen the two of you. You never had a moment like it afterwards. Well. Until now.

- You don't dare go after Nikto in that moment, but you want to. It's late, and if you woke everyone else up and made them aware of the situation, only god knows what would happen. So you shower and head off to bed, replaying senarios in your mind, planning what you'd say to Nikto first thing in the morning.

- Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you see it, he beat you to it.

- You were still sleeping when a heavy-handed Knock came to your door, sending you scurrying out of bed for your gear. You reach for your helmet until you hear the voice on the other side.

- "Hey... Its Nikto...let us in, please." He says, his voice gruff and demanding as usual but theres something else there....Pleading? Hoping?

- You freeze, fiddling with your helmet before deciding its not worth it. You quickly move to open the door, making sure noone else is around before ushering Nikto in.

- He takes a moment to look you up and down. You're not wearing any gear now. Just some plaid pajama pants and a white tanktop.

- He sighs, shaking any stray thoughts from his head. "We should talk. About last night." He finally states, and you agree with a simple nod, motioning for him to sit next to you on your bed.

- It feels like last time, except the cards have been flipped, this time, it was your secrets that were being spilled, and Nikto had the questions.

- "Why?" He asked flatly, "why hide your gender?"

- "Why hide your face?" You fire back, rolling your eyes at him like it was obvious, "for privacy, same reason as you, as Krueger. We don't want anyone knowing what we look like, our identities" you said, using another member of the allegiance, Sebastian Krueger, as an example.

- Nikto's eyes dart down in thought, and he nods, "I see."

- Theres more silence, it seems that was a recurring theme between you two, long bouts of silence. Never once did either of you try to force conversation. It came naturally.

- Nikto really appreciated that about you in this moment. It allowed him to get his thoughts straight, arguing with the voices for a bit before he opens his mouth again.

- "No one has to know." He says, like its that simple, and stands up. He starts for the door and you move to follow, a hand on his bicep.

- "Nikto wait- that's it?" You ask, confused, but what did you really expect? Nikto wasn't the type to gossip. If information needed to be gathered and brought back his superiors, he would. But that wasn't what he was asked to do.

- "да, that's it." He said standing the in the doorway with finality.

- He shut the door behind him with a click and you stood there dumbfounded. Did any of that really just happen, or was all of this one big dream you were about to wake from?

- You pinched yourself with a winced and cursed under your breathe. This was reality. Could you really trust Nikto with this secret? Without blackmail? Without shame?

- Apparently, yes. As you would come to find out. In fact, you soon realize that this whole incident only made you and Nikto somehow closer.

- In battles, during tight situations, he was always there. Freeing you from the enemies grasp, carrying you with a bullet wound in your back. He was your personal guard.

- He wasn't being more protective just cause he knew you're a girl, he knew you were deadly. He's seen what you're capable off. No. You come to learn Nikto does this as a display of affection. Subtlety showing his appreciation for keeping his secrets, and in return, he keeps your's, and keeps you alive as well.

- After one particularly long mission, you're walking alongside each other, covered in dirt and grime, heading to the showers as the sun set and everyone heads for bed.

- You two showered together now, of course, broken up by thin curtains. It was a bit intimate, but it was an easier agreement than an already insomnia ridden-Nikto getting up at ungodly hours of the morning to shower.

- As you're walking together you nudge him gently, "good work today. You still fight well for a guy your age." You tease. Nikto knew full well you were hiding a shit eating grin under than helmet of yours, grimacing at you.

- "Yeah, good work to you too... For a girl." He says back venomously, earning him a playful punch.

- "Bastard! Don't be so loud about that!" You scold while whisper-yelling, but Nikto can still hear the smile in your voice. And knows its in jest.

- "It would be a shame if the others knew what a pretty little woman you really were."

- "It would be a shame if the others knew about the smiley face tattoed on your buttcheek."

- Both of your faces are red and concealing mischievous grins. This was you and Nikto's relationship now. Learnings eachothers secrets, and using them to pick on eachother. Playful banter.

- Everyone around base notices what you two are doing...just FUCK already you two... Damn. The tension is killing everyone.

- You and Nikto will probably end up together after a while more of this, its inevitable. You're just unjudgemental enough to deal with his freak, while also being one of the only solider's on base willing to put up with his terrifying, intimidating aura for long periods of time!

- Nikto always kind of liked you, as a man, and even now as a woman. And sharing your secrets only solidified that attraction in his mind. You were his милый, and he would keep you and your secrets safe for as long as he lived.

AHHHH HOLY FUCKING SHIT SORRY IF THE END FEELS RUSHED I TRIED TO CONCLUDE THIS LONG ASS STORY, I DIDN'T REALIZE HOW MUCH YAP I HAD IN ME😳

The song Nikto was humming is Кино - Алюминиевые огурцы, and was inspired by a comment on my post about Russian and Austrian musc left by @weepingmagazinesandwich and once I heard that song I knew I had to use it in a writing piece its just so sweet. The two playlists were made btw I just never publicly posted them (also cause Nikto's list is chronically short, and Krueger's playlist is already almost hours long) so- idk if y'all want those posted but lmk👍 I hope you enjoyed this- whatever you'd call it. Idk what to call the reader in this. Disguised!reader sounds so silly.

I have a sfw agere krueger drabble comin out soon, and I just started writing big chunks of the hubby!gromsko x reader hcs.

#HELP IDK A BETTER NAME FOR THISSS #lexwrites #nikto #nikto x reader #nikto cod #cod

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bubuslutty · 7 months ago

Text

million dollar man

ooc negan smith x afab reader (organised crime au)

suggestive (mdni please or i'll eat you)

1.8k words

no apocalypse, no walkers, haven't watched TWD yet, all I know is from fanfics so OOC Negan <3

tags: sorry for any mistakes, i was too excited to write + share this. no warnings or tw needed + mention of alcohol consumption. also worth to mention that the only driving force into me writing this is my thirst and hunger for this fictional character. I dream every day of sucking him dry and making a seat out of his lap.

a small gift for my bae @reveluving <3

You came to Negan's empire to purchase weapons and materials for a mission. It was meant to be a quick trip with the leader of your small team, Rick. He was carrying a duffel bag filled to the brim with bills while you only carried a piece of paper - a list - in your hand.

Getting inside the million-dollar villa took multiple security checks and your phones being confiscated along with any weapons you had on your person. It took a long time to follow one of the henchmen through multiple corridors and ridiculously massive stairs, to some sort of office. It was empty, and the two of you had to sit and wait in silence. Rick, placed the duffel on the floor as he sat with his back straight, looking at the office, scanning the collection of books and random objects. The place was spotless, the floor and windows shining.

You on the other hand started tapping your fingertips on your naked thighs, staring at your shoes and the clean floors. You really wanted to get back to your place so you can continue planning the mission. These trips were not your favourites, you were only here because Rick found your presence useful. He said once that he trusts you, not like he trusts his other guys any less, but that he found your presence calming. You were really good at reading people's moods and feelings, you also had good social skills. You spoke multiple languages, which is really helpful in this line of work. Rick has struggled many times in communicating with random crime gangs because of their heavy accent, or just because the leader refused to speak English and decided to only speak through an interpreter.

You were also quick on your feet and pretty, that, Rick found, helps too.

That's why you were wearing a tiny black dress, neck and legs exposed to the clean air of the office. Over it, you had on a black leather jacket with a pair of black boots. It wasn't much but it was enough. You also never really resented Rick for using your appearance to his advantage in these sort of meetings and arms purchases. It was purely business and you understand the benefit of using human nature against your enemies.

The door opened behind you two, and none of you looked back but simply stood up to greet today's seller. Rick stuck his hand out when the seller made his way to the desk and you lifted your head to see who you had to deal with it when you froze.

You really didn't mean to freeze like that, eyes wide and feeling your body already heating up in embarrassment. It was stupid, the dumbest thing in the world. Out of all assholes in the world, it had to be this one.

Negan's lips slowly formed a smirk as he brought one hand to run through his greying beard, "Huh,"

Rick's hand was still in the air, Negan gave him one glance, raising a brow then down at his hand, turning around and making his way to his desk, leaving Rick hanging.

You glanced at Rick and saw how he glared at the man before he sat back down, wiping his hand on his jeans. You sat back down, pulling down at your dress to cover another centimetre of skin of your thighs.

Negan made a show of sitting down in his seat, unbuttoning his suit jacket and waving his finger and a henchman came over with a bottle of golden liquid and glass. You couldn't tell what it was, but knew it must be expensive.

"You drink?" Negan lifted his eyes while pouring himself a glass.

You were about to answer when he grinned, "I know you don't. I'm asking him."

Rick whipped his head to look at you, then back at Negan, "No."

"Hm, what's your name anyway? First time buying from us?" Negan asked after taking a sip.

"Ri-" "I actually don't care, show me the money and I'll see what that can get you." Negan said and you didn't know whether to burst out laughing or scream in embarrassment or horror. It was awfully hard to focus when the object of many inappropriate daydreams was right in front of you. Especially since this was the first time you're seeing him under natural sunlight rather than artificial neon colours.

Rick hates being disrespected, and you could tell he was fuming even when he was wearing a poker face. So you leaned down and grabbed the duffel, a henchman appeared next to you, you glanced at Negan and handed the man the bag. "Everything we need is here." You said, holding the piece of paper up. Negan nodded at the man, who took the piece of paper from your hands and left.

As soon as you sat down Negan got up, slowly walking around his desk and standing in front of you two, crossing his arms and leaning back against the desk, "How's work?" He asked, pinning you under his heavy gaze.

"I don't work there anymore." You quickly say, tucking your hands between your thighs, feeling a little uncomfortable, not necessarily because of Negan, but because Rick didn't know you two knew each other and would definitely have some questions when you leave.

"Hm, shame, you were phenomenal at it." He hums, shamelessly dragging his eyes down your body, stopping at where you tucked your hands between your naked thighs.

Rick looks bewildered and a bit disgusted as he looks at you and Negan, "You knew each other." He stated. Not questioned, stated, because it was without a doubt 100% true.

"He was a regular at my old job." You say noting the way Negan's big veiny hands hold the edge of the desk a little tighter and his eyes get that look he gets when he's tipsy and feels good, or in this case, horny.

"Wrong, baby. I was your regular."

What the fuck.

An onslaught of memories come rushing back from your time working at the strip club, it was just meant to be a temporary job, to hide in plain sight, but ended up lasting longer than you bargained for when Negan - you didn't know he was Negan back then, he never gave you his name - randomly came in and captured your attention and gave you a lot of money.

The phantom memories of his rough yet gentle hands on your skin made you shiver. You still remember how he smelled like, you remember the feel of his hair between your fingers and remember the rumble of his voice against your back and his warm breath on your neck. You also remember the coolness of his silver rings on your flesh, and the weight of his arms around your shoulders, but also how ridiculously tall and big he was, everywhere. Well, probably, you never saw him naked, it was a boundary that you never ever crossed. It was also the club's rules anyway. You were a dancer, not a sex worker. Maybe in another universe you would've let him fuck you in his pitch black £100k Mercedes with your legs on his shoulders.

"I need a drink." Your mouth says before you can even register it, and you realise your hand is around your neck, thirsty. Shit.

You snatch your hand away from your neck, Rick will definitely have a lot to say when you leave, you were being so unprofessional. Well, as much as a criminal about to purchase materials to kidnap the daughter of an oil tycoon for £50 million.

Negan chuckles and another one of his henchmen appears next to you out of thin air, seriously how do they move without making any noises-

You were about to give up keeping composure and scream when it wasn't one of his random henchmen but his fucking driver- What was his name again? Dylan? Daniel?

"Thank you, Daryl."

Oh yeah.

And Daryl was the one who accompanied every time Negan had time to come to the club, he never really spoke, just sat down and watched. It was unnerving at times, how you would be perched on Negan's lap like a pretty bird, thumbing at his tie while his hands are running up and down your legs, snapping the band of your teeny tiny shorts, making you squeal mid-sentence, just to chuckle and place a warm kiss to your neck or shoulder, his stumble pricking your skin in a way that made you shiver.

And in his hands was a fucking Five Guys milkshakes, the sticker on it listing your usual order. The one you mindlessly mentioned ONCE to Negan while he tried to convince you that Fast Food was shit and your body deserved to eat healthy, in the middle of a lap dance you were giving him.

You don't even know how the fuck he managed to do that because she's sure as shit there was no Five Guys on their way to his place.

"Did I get it right?" Negan smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your breath came out shakily as you took the milkshake from Daryl, not meeting his eyes and grabbing the straw with your other hand, lips engulfing the paper straw and sucking. Yeah, fuck him.

Fuck him and fuck his money. Fuck his charming smile, big hands, and perfect memory and fuck his eyes and his mouth and his tongue and his stupid stupid stupid face!

You didn't say anything as you practically tried to inhale the milkshake, not meeting poor Rick's eyes. Negan clapped once and laughed, throwing his head back, amused and highly entertained.

In that moment one of his henchmen came in and said, "The order has been paid and packed."

Rick slapped in his thighs in dad fashion and stood up, ready to leave when Negan said, "Where do you think you're going?"

Rick frowned, "You got your money and we got what we came in for."

A mean grin spread across Negan's face, "No, no, buddy. We're not done yet."

"What else do you want?"

Negan ran his tongue on the top row of his teeth, "I'm only selling if you agree to come back and let me know how your little mission went." He glanced at you then back at Rick, "I want to see how good you are at your job, I might use your services in the future."

"Okay?.." Rick shrugged.

"Only if she's the one who comes back, alone, and in one piece, we got a deal?"

You eyes widen at his words and look at Rick, who's already looking at you. He looks pained and very annoyed, so you put the milkshake down on the coffee table and one of his hands, squeezing once, "It's okay, I can do it."

"Are you sure?" He genuinely looks worried and you nod, "He's not a monster."

Rick sighs and meets Negan's eyes, "Fine."

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