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misserabella · 7 months ago

Text

brat

spencer reid x f! reader

summary; spencer decides it’s a good day to test your patience by being sassy with you. let’s see if he can keep the act up when you’re punishing him for being a fucking brat.

cw!!; +18 content, minors dni!, s1/s2 spence!, spencer being a brat, cursing, fighting, kind of enemies to lovers, secret relationship, handcuffing (bondage), handjob (s receiving), masturbation (r) (spencer watches), orgasm denial, edging, untouched orgasm, lots of begging, dirty talking, dom! reader and sub! spencer, multiple orgasms, brat taming, piv sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this guys), breeding kink?, hickeys, creampie…

spencer was having a really shitty day. firstly; he had tripped with the sheets of his bed and landed onto the floor with a grunt, secondly; the coffee shop he always stopped by had closed for the day for some electric problems, what left him without his favorite sugary order and with the really not that great tasting bau’s coffee, thirdly; he was stressed out from the constant load of work, specially this really hard case, and lastly; you hadn’t touched him in a week. a whole fucking week.

spencer and you had this… thing going on. it all started after a rough case in which the two of you had fallen into each other’s arms and ended up sleeping together, something that surprised the two of you, since your relationship wasn’t “the best” to be frank. you two argued and bickered a lot like two little kids with crushes, and had been dancing around each other for quite a long time. it was obvious that you liked each other, but nothing had happened until that night. and after that you two were hooked. of course, the team didn’t know. and you had decided that they wouldn’t yet.

“okay, what about those marks on their bodies, they’re not found exactly in the same place or have the same shape but maybe…”

“no offense, y/n, but you don’t really know what you’re talking about do you?” your mouth gaped slightly at the ring in his tone and the squinting of his eyes. you stalked him as he got up from his seat and went towards the board of evidence, taking a marker and starting to write. “we have no evidence, no apparent interaction between the unsub and the victims pre or post mortem and an indistinguishable mo…” he turned around to face the team once again. “should be simple.” he arched his brows with a mocking pout pulling from his pinky lips as sarcasm tinged his voice.

“you know…?” you looked at him as you crossed your arms over your chest. “instead of taking your fucking temper out on us because you’ve had a shitty day, you could take all that energy and use it to help us, reid.” you had to bite down an impressed chuckle by pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek as his pretty hazel eyes rolled at your words.

“and you should save your comments concerning your hate towards me ‘cause it’s hard to give a fuck when you’re the smartest motherfucker in the fbi.”

“spencer.” hotch cut the two of you off before the situation could escalate. “take 5.” he ordered.

“but-“

“now.” he silently thew the marker on the table and walked out of the door, leaving the team astonished by his behavior.

derek whistled, shock written over his face. “what was that?”

you gritted your teeth. fucking brat.

“no fucking idea.” you hissed.

seems like you’d have to teach him a lesson.

“please…!” he’s whimpering, thrashing, his wrists becoming raw from the tugging against the handcuffs that restrained him to the head of your bed.

his cock was beautifully swollen and heavy on your palm, slicked with your spit and his dribbling precum, which can’t stop dripping from the red flushed head. you’re chuckling. his mind was dizzy with the need to cum, his hips sputtering up against the warmth of your hand in need of release. you’d been at this for a while now, bringing him to the edge of an orgasm just to stop all together, squeezing his base, edging him, driving him insane.

“please, i’m sorry…” he begged, gasping, his breathing was ragged, his back arching from the bed you had pinned him down to. you bit harshly down onto his neck, sucking a new bruise that made him whine.

“what did you do, hm?” you inquired him before starting to jerk him once again, humming when more pre cum stained your fingers and the back of your hand. he was making such a fucking mess. he was a fucking mess. and you loved it.

“i-i was a brat…” he whined and you chuckled again at his desperate and breathy answer.

“yeah?”

“yes, yes…” he sounded desperate. it was cute.

“what else?”

“i…” a moan left his lips at the movement of your hand on his cock, up and down, slowly. he was getting lost in that pretty little head of his again. so you stopped, making a pained sound leave his plushy lips. “no, please! please don’t stop!”

“answer me and i’ll keep going, pretty boy.” you thumbed his slit and his whole body shivered in a pretty whine.

“i talked bad at you…” he gulped. “i…i was disrespectful in front of the team.” he gasped, flinching and moaning when you squeezed him. “oh god. fuck. please, please…”

“atta boy. see? that wasn’t difficult.” his adam’s apple bobbed when you spat down on the head of his twitching pretty dick, slicking him up even if he didn’t need it and starting the process of bringing him to the edge once again. after the stress, pent up energy of a whole week and your touch and teasing, it was easy to drive him right to it in a record time. he was a mess of moans and whines, his hips bucking up in the heat and slick of your palm. “looks like you’re about to cum, baby. are you gonna cum?” you inquired him, going faster up and down his cock, and he nodded, whispering little ‘yes’s in between gasps. “i don’t think you deserve it, though, you’ve been such a fucking brat, spencer…” he whimpered. “and all of it for what, hm?” pretty tears started to swell in his eyes as you pushed away your touch from him.

“i just… i just wanted you to touch me.” he whispered, hurt, puppy eyes behind his glasses staring up at you.

“so you went ahead and acted like a fucking brat expecting to win it that way?” you chuckled, incredulous.

he crooked his head, his mouth gaping like a fish in search of words. “please…”

“some pretty pleases ain’t gonna cut it.” you got up and started to undress in front of his eyes, his beautiful cock was flushed and resting against his lower stomach, dribbling white pearls of precum onto his skin. you smirked when you saw it twitch at the sight of your body only on your lace bra and panties. spencer tugged on his restrains when you cupped your breasts obscenely once you had unclasped and thrown away your bra into the pile of clothes decorating the floor of the room. “you like the view, spence?”

his eyes squeezed shut. you were toying with him. he painfully whined, but he still —knowing better— nodded, licking his lips. you hummed, your hands coming down to your panties, your smirk growing when you watched as his eyes followed the trail down and tugged once again at the handcuffs. “you want me to take them off, hm?”

“yes…” he nodded eagerly, his cock twitching at the idea. “please.” he added.

“such good manners… this is what you needed isn’t it, baby? just a little lesson.” you purred, and pushed down the last piece of clothing on your body past your thighs until it fell pooling at your feet. spencer whined needily at the view. you crawled into the bed once again, seating yourself in front of him and spreading open your legs for his hungry eyes. he let out a shaky breath at the sight of your sticky folds and gaping entrance, begging to be filled by him. you hummed as one of your hands made its way down your stomach and in between your legs, your back slightly arching with a soft moan as your fingers bumped your clit. you were soaking wet. spencer moaned as well, fighting his restrains. “hmmm, spencer…” you sighed, touching yourself in front of his hungry eyes, he whined, in need to put his hands on you. “you see this baby? if only you’d been good… you could be fucking me right now…” he whimpered, his hips bucking up in the air in need of relieve.

“please… please, let me touch you, please…” he begged. “i’ll be good, i promise…” you sank two of your fingers inside of your pussy, gasping at the stretch and letting out a moan at the feeling as you started to slowly thrust them in and out. “please baby, please… i need you, i need to touch you…” he pleaded but you ignored him, continuing to touch and pleasure yourself in between gasps and moans. he whined, swallowing harshly, the sound and sight of you was enough to make him about to blow his load. he grunted as he fought with the handcuffs, his cock throbbing in need to be deep inside your cunt.

your fingers curled and your back arched. “fuck, spence…!” he was sure you were moaning his name just to rile him up. and it was working. his wrists were bruised by now, the same color of the hickeys on his neck and chest that you had branded.

“please…” he was desperate now. “please baby, please…”

“spence, i’m gonna cum…!” you gasped, speeding up the curling of your fingers. he whined, it was as if you were touching him, his cock throbbing against his stomach, now with a pool of precum decorating it. he was so close to his own orgasm it scared him. he was not the most experienced, but he had never come untouched, and it was astonishing, ‘cause he was about to do it just by watching you. and it felt so good…

he groaned when he saw it, the way your back arched, the way your mouth hung in a scream and the way creamy white cum coated your fingers and dribbled down onto the mattress, staining the sheets.

he moaned out your name in heavy pants. “i can’t… i can’t.” he babbled. “i can’t hold it…!” he moaned, his hips grinding against the air once, twice, thrice before he was cumming all over himself. untouched. like a fucking teenager.

holy fuck. spencer had come untouched. the thought of it was enough to drive you inane.

“mmph!!!” he moaned once again at the feeling of your tongue on his dick, licking him and his skin clean of his cum. “f-fuck!!” his hips twitched up, and a broken whimper ripped his throat when you straddled him, your soaked cunt against his still sensitive —and hardening— dick. “what are you-oh my god…!” he babbled, his back arching when in a quick succession of movements, you took him, aligned him with your entrance and sat down on him down to the hilt.

“you wasted that pretty load, pretty boy…” you moaned as you started to dirtily ride him, hips and jumps on his cock desperate. you didn’t even wait for the burning of the stretch to subside. “but that’s okay, ‘cause you’re gonna give me another one, huh? gonna cum for me and fill my pussy up just like you wanted.” he whimpered, his body shaking in overstimulation, his hazel puppy eyes welling with tears. “isn’t this what you wanted, baby? what you were begging for?” you sped up and he moaned.

“i can’t, oh god, i can’t…” but he still somehow found himself thrusting up against you in need for more.

“your body doesn’t say the same thing, baby.” you chuckled, amazed by the beautiful reactions he was giving you. “you’re so hard already… and you just came.” you hummed as you bounced on his cock, the tip kissing your cervix with every jump. he moaned, his glasses slightly fogged and crooked, his hair messy and with some strands glued in sweat against his temple and his lips swollen from all the biting. “so pretty… god and you fuck me so good baby, fill me so good…” he whined, gone under the thought of you using him like some toy to get off. he wasn’t even fighting to get off the handcuffs anymore, he was just taking it, and letting you take anything you wanted from him. “being so good for me, spence…” he keened under the praise, his dick twitching in between your walls due to your speeding movements. he wasn’t gonna last. and you knew it.

“i’m-i’m gonna cum…” he moaned, panting, his eyes squeezing shut. “i need to cum… please, please can i cum?” “can i come inside? please let me cum inside, please…” he was begging, and you moaned, feeling your own high approaching, every thrust of his hips up against yours pressing against that perfect spot in between your gummy walls.

“yes, yes, cum inside me baby, fill me up.” you whimpered behind him, your mouth gaping when you felt it, his sticky warm load painting your walls as you kept bouncing on him. “oh my god…”

“fuck, ah, fuckfuckfuck!” he moaned and babbled as he felt you reaching your own high, squeezing and milking him dry.

you two moved against each other to ride out your orgasms, leaving a mess out of the sheets and his cock, now drenched in both your juices.

the two of you were panting as you stilled, his softening dick still inside you as you rested your hands on his chest.

“lesson learned?” you questioned and he gulped, nodding, out of air.

“lesson learned.” “…” “can you uncuff me now?”

bratty spencer💚

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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1-800-hot-n-fun — fushiguro toji.

"Hey, doll." Toji called out as you approached the exit, a hint of something serious in his tone for the first time. "What’s your number?" You turned around, flashing him a grin that was all playful mischief. "My number? Sure. It's 1-800-hot-n-fun, stranger." you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you stepped closer to him.

GENRE: alternate universe — modern au;

WARNING/s: NSFW (R18+), Smut, AFAB! Reader, Romance, Age Gap (Reader is in Her 20s, Toji is in his 30s), Strangers to Potential Lovers, Pet Names (Doll, Stranger;), Profanity, Cursing, Stripping Clothes, Fingering, P to V Sex, Kissing, Making Out, Humor, Flirting, Teasing, Mention of Stripping, Mention of Body Parts, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Smoking, Mention of Age Gap, Depiction of Bar Experience, Depiction of Sexual Acts, Depiction of Nudity, Depiction of Smoking;

WORDS: 3.8k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: lately i keep thinking about toji and how he's genuinely the type to have been someone who wanders into bars and places for fun before and after mamaguro. i think in a way, he's looking for a place to belong. i wanted to make a fun thought about that and as usual, in keeping with kinktober. anyway, i indulge myself to be his controversially young partner for shits and giggles while writing this. in any case, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all!! 🫶

ADDENDUM: another little gift - i've published a original story on my wattpad on my eleventh anniversary on the app. its like a little indulgence of mine which i worked on a long while ago. if you would like to read it, please click here!!! thank you so much!!! <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS JUST A REGULAR FRIDAY NIGHT OUT. The club was alive with energy, lights flashing in rhythmic patterns that matched the heavy bass reverberating through your body. You had come out tonight to lose yourself in the music, to dance, to have fun—your favorite escape.

The moment you stepped onto the dance floor, you were in your element, moving with confidence and ease. You didn’t care about anything else, just the thrill of the moment. But then, you saw him.

Fushiguro Toji. But you didn’t know his name yet. The man who seemed to tower over everyone else, his presence impossible to ignore. He was older, easily a decade older than you, but there was something about him that pulled you in instantly.

You couldn’t look away. His rugged, confident demeanor was a sharp contrast to the carefree crowd around him. He was dressed sharply in that suit and coat. He was businessman, you like to think.

You can't help but watch his every move. He was beautiful. He wasn’t dancing like everyone else, just standing by the bar, watching, with that sharp, intense gaze that sent a thrill down your spine. He was trying to light a cigarette with that bright silver lighter with precision.

You wanted to approach him. An it was a good thing that you weren’t shy. It was obvious that he was older than you. But even with the age difference, you knew what you wanted, and right now, all you wanted was him.

Your pulse quickened, not from the music, but from the thought of getting closer to him. You danced your way through the crowd, your movements playful and enticing, knowing his eyes would eventually find you.

And they did.

His gaze locked onto you, and it was like the world narrowed down to just the two of you. Every sway of your hips, every flick of your hair, you made sure he was watching. You like trying to tease him like this. And surely enough, he was caught in your trap.

The music pulsed louder, but all you could feel was the heat building between you both, the silent pull that was undeniable. You watched as the smoke poured out of his lips, almost erotically. He looked at you in the eyes, a smirk on his lips. Oh, he’s enjoying playing games with you.

Without hesitation, you made your way over, bold and confident. The closer you got, the more you could see the rough edges of his jaw, the scar that gave him an air of danger, and those sharp green eyes that made your heart race. You leaned against the bar beside him, flashing him a playful smile.

"You don’t seem like the type to just stand around, stranger." you teased, loud enough to be heard over the music, your voice laced with flirtation.

Toji raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth squirming up into a smirk. His smoke tied through in his fingertips. "And you don’t seem like the type to be this bold," he shot back, his voice deep and rough, sending shivers through you.

You laughed, tossing your hair over your shoulder, feeling the electric tension between you thickening. "I like to party, kiss everybody, have a good time, stranger." you said, quoting the song playing in the background, letting the words roll off your tongue in a teasing, suggestive way. "But tonight, I’ve got my eyes on you."

He leaned in slightly, just enough that you could feel the heat of his body. "You sure you can handle that?" he asked, his voice dropping to a lower, more dangerous tone that made your heart skip a beat.

"Try me, stranger." you challenged, meeting his gaze head-on.

Without another word, he killed the light of his cigarette in the ashtray. He quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the bar and into the shadows, out of the chaotic light of the dance floor but still close enough to feel the energy of the crowd. His grip was firm, possessive, and it made you crave more.

Pressed against the wall, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the heat radiating between the two of you, Toji’s body loomed over you, making you feel small in the best way. His hands rested on either side of your head, trapping you, but you weren’t scared. You wanted this.

The thrill of the chase, the excitement of being with someone older, someone who had an edge to him that made your pulse race with both excitement and danger.

"You’re too young for me, doll." he murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned in closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. “You can’t be more than 20.”

"I’m a bit older than that. But that doesn't matter, doesn't it? I like what I want." you whispered back, your voice breathy with anticipation. "And I want you, stranger."

That was all it took. His lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, as if he’d been holding back and finally let himself give in. The kiss was hot, intense, and full of raw energy, making your knees go weak as you clung to him.

And the taste, oh the rough taste of nicotine passing from you to him giving you a whiplash. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you tightly, pulling you flush against his body. The age gap, the club, the people around you—it all melted away, leaving only the heat between you.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, tugging him closer, wanting more. Every touch, every movement between you was electric, and you knew there was no turning back now.

"I like to kiss everybody." you whispered against his lips, teasing him with a grin as you broke the kiss for just a second before pulling him back in, your body pressed even tighter against his.

Toji chuckled lowly against your mouth, his hand sliding up your back, possessive and firm. "Guess you’ll be kissing only me tonight, doll." he growled, his voice sending a thrill through you.

Toji’s lips crashed into yours again, rougher this time, fueled by the undeniable heat between you both. It wasn’t gentle or sweet—it was a raw hunger that made your head spin.

His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between your bodies. You could feel the hardness of his muscles through his shirt, and it made your pulse race faster. His presence was overwhelming, and you loved every second of it.

Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, pulling him even closer, wanting more. His hands roamed your body with a rough possessiveness, sliding from your waist down to your hips, gripping you as if he didn’t want to let go. You could feel the power behind every touch, the way he held you like he owned you, and it made your body heat up in ways you hadn’t expected.

Toji broke the kiss for just a second, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You’re playing a dangerous game, doll." he murmured, his voice rough and husky, laced with dark amusement. His breath was hot against your skin, and it made you shiver.

You tilted your head back slightly, giving him more access to your neck as he trailed hot kisses down the side of your throat. "Maybe I like it dangerous, stranger." you whispered, your voice breathy as you clung to him, feeling the tension in your body coil tighter with every kiss, every touch.

His lips hovered over the sensitive spot on your neck, and you gasped when he bit down softly, enough to leave a mark but not enough to hurt. It was possessive, a silent claim, and it made your body tremble with anticipation. You weren’t afraid—if anything, you wanted more of him. More of the rough edges, more of the heat that burned between you two like a wildfire.

"You’re gonna regret this, doll." he growled, but the way his hands slid down your body told you that he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. His grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you even closer, pinning you against the wall with his body.

"I doubt it, stranger." you teased, arching into him, feeling the tension between you build to an almost unbearable level.

The age gap, the danger, the intensity—it was all part of the thrill, and you craved it. Toji wasn’t like anyone you’d been with before, and that’s what made you want him even more. He was interesting, he was brutish, he was charming, he was rough and it all excites you. More than you hoped.

He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands roaming your body with a rough urgency that made you feel like he was claiming every inch of you. You kissed him back just as fiercely, letting him know that you weren’t backing down. You wanted this, wanted him, and nothing was going to stop you.

The music from the club pulsed around you, but it felt distant now, like it was just background noise to the heat between the two of you. The flashing lights only served to highlight the intensity of the moment, casting shadows and making everything feel more electric.

"Tell me what you want, doll." Toji growled against your lips, his hands sliding under your shirt, the heat of his touch searing your skin.

"I want you, stranger. Badly." you whispered, your voice breathy with desire. You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. "I’ve wanted you since I saw you."

Toji’s eyes darkened at your words, and without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you harder against the wall. He doens't care who comes through the door of the toilets. You're more what matters right now. He wants you so badly. And he'll claim you, no matter what.

You could feel his lips were on yours again, the kiss deep and hungry, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel the strength of his body against yours, the way he moved with an intensity that made your head spin.

"You don’t know what you’re getting into, doll." he muttered between kisses, his voice rough and filled with a dark promise. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as his lips moved from your mouth to your neck again, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you gasp.

"Then show me." you challenged, your body arching into him, craving more of his touch. You wanted all of it—the heat, the danger, the thrill of being with someone older, someone who wasn’t afraid to take control.

Toji growled low in his throat, his hands tightening on your body as he kissed you harder, the intensity between you reaching a fever pitch. The air was thick with desire, the tension almost too much to bear as you clung to him, your fingers gripping his shoulders for support.

Every kiss, every touch was filled with a fiery passion that made your heart race and your body ache for more. Toji was dangerous, unpredictable, and that only made you want him more. Nothing else mattered anymore when it comes to this—all that mattered was the heat between you, the way his hands roamed your body like he owned it, and the way his lips left a trail of fire everywhere they touched.

The door to the club bathroom slammed shut behind you, muffling the pounding music outside. Toji's mouth was on yours before you could even catch your breath, his hands rough and needy as they gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was intoxicating, every kiss deeper, every pull more frantic.

"You’re so fucking hot, doll." Toji growled against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. His hands slid up your sides, yanking at your shirt, fingers fumbling with the fabric. "I can’t get enough of you. Y'r too sweet, too good."

You didn’t answer—your breath caught in your throat as his hands found their way under your skirt, fingers brushing against your core. You moaned, arching into him, tugging at his shirt with equal desperation.

"Take it off already." you panted, voice breathless as you tried to strip him bare, needing to feel more of him, all of him.

"Impatient, huh?" he teased, his lips curving into a wicked grin as he shoved his shirt over his head. But before you could respond, his fingers were inside you, two thick digits stretching you out, making you gasp as your head fell back against the tiled wall.

"That’s it, pretty doll." Toji whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers pumped in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made your body hum with pleasure. "Ride my fingers. I wanna feel you come."

Your hips moved on their own, grinding down against his hand as he curled his fingers just right, his thumb brushing against your clit in slow, torturous circles. You whimpered, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, trying to stay grounded as waves of pleasure started to crash over you.

"Fuck, fuck……" you gasped, barely able to hold back the moans that spilled from your lips. His mouth found your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers down your spine, the sensation overwhelming as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"You’re so tight, doll." he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. "God, I love how you feel. Come on, let go of it all for me."

And you did. Your body seized as pleasure exploded inside you, your vision blurring as you came, trembling against him, your slick coating his fingers. You felt like you were floating, barely able to catch your breath as you came down from the high.

Toji grinned against your skin, his fingers slowly slipping out of you as he brought them to his lips, eyes locked on yours as he sucked your slick from them, tasting you with a low, satisfied groan. He was smug about it all, and all you could do was stare at him.

"Mm, you taste even better than I imagined, doll." he murmured, his voice thick with hunger as he pressed his body closer, his lips ghosting over yours. "But we’re not done yet, doll. Not even close."

His words hung heavy in the air, and you could feel your pulse quicken at the way he looked at you—dark, possessive, like he had all the time in the world to wreck you. Toji pressed his body closer to yours, his chest warm and solid against your trembling form. The grin on his lips was dangerous, teasing, as if daring you to give in again.

"You think you’re ready for more?" he asked, his voice a low rumble as his fingers trailed down your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. His touch was deliberate, lingering, as if savoring every second. "Because I’m not stopping until you’re begging me to."

You swallowed hard, your body still buzzing from the aftermath of your climax. His fingers, slick with your release, grazed your skin, making you twitch with sensitivity. The throbbing heat between your legs hadn’t faded—it only seemed to grow with every word he said, every look he gave you.

"Stranger...…" you breathed, your voice coming out in a shaky whisper. You could barely think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence. The hunger in his eyes was relentless, and it sent a surge of desire straight to your core. You wanted him—needed him—and it was almost maddening how much. "Please."

"I know, doll." he muttered, his lips ghosting over yours in a featherlight touch that sent a shockwave of need through you. "I know exactly what you need."

His hands moved swiftly, fingers curling around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down before you even had a chance to protest—not that you would. He pressed his hips against yours, and you could feel how hard he was through his pants, the outline of his length pressing into your stomach.

He chuckled, low and predatory, as he kissed you again, this time rougher, more demanding. You were lost in it, in him, and before you knew it, your hands were at his belt, fumbling with the buckle.

"You’re driving me crazy, stranger." you muttered against his lips, your fingers finally unfastening his belt and yanking at the zipper.

His pants dropped to the floor, and Toji wasted no time, his large hands grabbing the backs of your thighs, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he pinned you harder against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours.

"You’re the one driving me fucking insane, doll." he groaned, his voice rough with barely controlled restraint. His hand found your heat again, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, but not pushing in just yet, savoring the moment as he brushed against your swollen folds. "You just feel too good, yeah, huh.”

"Then what are you waiting for?" you whispered, your voice breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as you rocked your hips, trying to close the agonizing distance between you.

Toji grinned wickedly, his eyes flashing with desire. "Patience won't you, doll?"

His hand gripped your hip, positioning you just right before, with one hard thrust, he pushed inside you, stretching you in ways that made you gasp. The sudden fullness left you breathless, your walls tightening around him as you clung to his broad shoulders.

"Fuck!" you both cursed at the same time, the sensation of him filling you sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. His forehead pressed against yours as he stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the delicious stretch.

"You feel so good, doll." he rasped, his breath hot against your lips, eyes dark with lust as he began to move, slow at first, savoring the way your body responded to him. "So tight. I’m gonna make you come again—over and over until you can’t take it anymore."

You moaned as he picked up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper, hitting all the right spots. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your head falling back against the wall as you surrendered to the pleasure, completely at his mercy.

"That’s it, that’s—oh." Toji groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the cramped bathroom. "Give it to me—fuck, you’re so perfect."

Your vision blurred as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, every thrust pushing you closer to your breaking point. The world outside ceased to exist—all you could feel was him, the heat between you, the way he filled you so completely.

"Come for me, doll." he whispered, his voice thick and commanding as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Come on, I know you’re close."

It was all you needed. Your body tightened around him, your nails digging into his back as your second orgasm crashed over you, harder than the first. You cried out his name, your body trembling as waves of pleasure pulsed through you.

Toji followed right after, groaning low in your ear as he thrust into you one last time, spilling inside you. His body shuddered against yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the two of you lost in each other, breathing heavily as the aftermath of your passion washed over you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, still holding you against the wall, both of you breathless. Toji has never felt like this before. Not for any person he's ever encountered. He felt hot. Too hot inside and out. And he wanted more. He wanted to be consumed by you more.

"Damn, doll…." he murmured with a lazy grin, pulling back slightly to look at you. "I knew you’d feel good, but that…"

You smirked, still panting, your arms draped loosely around his neck. "Yeah?" you whispered, feeling the aftershocks of your climax still coursing through you.

Toji chuckled, his grin widening as he kissed you again, slow and deliberate this time. "Yeah. And next time, we’re not stopping until you beg me to."

As the haze of pleasure slowly lifted, you both took a moment to catch your breath. Toji's body still pressed close to yours, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and lust. But the reality of your surroundings began to sink in, and with a mischievous grin, you reached for your discarded clothes, the remnants of your heated moment lingering in the small, cramped bathroom.

You could feel the evidence of your encounter still dripping down your thighs as you slipped your panties back on, the sensation sending a rush of satisfaction through you. Toji watched you, his eyes dark and satisfied, a lazy grin curling his lips as he pulled his pants up, fastening his belt. His gaze lingered on you, like he was already planning the next time he’d have you pinned up against another wall.

"You good?" he asked, his voice low and gruff as he slipped his shirt back on. He was still watching you with that same predatory look, like he wasn’t quite done yet.

You winked at him, unable to suppress the playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Better than good, stranger." you teased, smoothing down your skirt as you finished adjusting your clothes.

Toji’s eyes darkened again, clearly ready for round two, but before he could make a move, you brushed past him, opening the door and stepping back into the dimly lit hallway of the club.

As you both strolled out of the bathroom, you could still feel him leaking inside you, a delicious reminder of what just happened. You glanced over your shoulder at him, the corner of your lips quivering in amusement. His gaze hadn’t left you for a second, his eyes trailing your every move.

"Hey, doll." Toji called out as you approached the exit, a hint of something serious in his tone for the first time. "What’s your number?"

You turned around, flashing him a grin that was all playful mischief. "My number? Sure. It's 1-800-hot-n-fun, stranger." you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you stepped closer to him.

Before he could react, you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to kiss him roughly, your lips crashing against his in a heated, final goodbye kiss. You winked at him when you finished, patting his shoulder softly.

He grinned against your lips, his hands finding your waist again as if he couldn’t help himself. But before things could heat up again, you pulled back, giving him a coy smile. "Check your pocket, stranger." you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

With a smirk, you turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of the club without another word. Toji’s eyes followed you until you were out of sight, his lips still curved in amusement as he slipped a hand into his pocket.

When he pulled out the crumpled piece of paper, his grin widened as he read your phone number scrawled in bold letters. "Looks like she’s not done with me after all, huh?" he muttered under his breath, tucking the paper back into his pocket with a satisfied smirk.

Toji chuckled to himself, his mind already racing with the thought of calling you up for another round of fun. "Guess I’ll be making that call real soon."

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marauroon · 2 months ago

Note

How about Remus with werewolf reader? Reader is new at Hogwarts and Minnie introduces her to Remus and tell them they will share the Shrieking Shack on full moons. After the first one they comfort each other and fell in love

AND THEY WERE SHACKMATES — R.LUPIN

remus finds out there’s another werewolf at hogwarts, and whilst he’s excited to meet you, you’re not as thrilled to meet him.

remus lupin x fem!werewolf!reader | flangst? | 3.2k | masterlist.

a/n — so i changed some of the specifics of this ask quite a bit (sorry) but the general gist of it is still there

WARNINGS | dismissive reader, brief mention of fighting, mentions of injury and bleeding, lots of sarcasm (british staple m’fraid), no explicit romance (sorry) but i’ll probably end up writing a p2 for this anyway

Another werewolf at Hogwarts. Who would’ve guessed?

Five years into school and only now he was being told there was somebody like him in his year the entire time.

He almost didn’t believe McGonagall when she called him into her office. But there you were, and the scars littering your hands told him everything he needed to know.

His immediate instinct was to feel relieved, that there was finally a person like him who could understand what he was going through.

But the expression you had as he neared you had him questioning whether ��relief’ was the emotion he was supposed to be feeling.

“Um… hi,” he said in his usual, soft voice, his hands fiddling with the hem of his tie.

“Hi,” You press your lips together awkwardly, the odd atmosphere probably not helped by the fact that McGonagall was still in the room.

Although, you really had no interest in ‘acquainting’ yourself with Remus anyway.

He felt a pang of disappointment when you made no signs of trying to further the conversation. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to start talking to someone like him. Maybe he would feel a little bit less, alone.

He awkwardly looked back over at Professor McGonagall, silently asking whether she was leaving. When that wasn’t obvious enough, he took the more direct approach.

“Professor, would you mind… uh, would you mind giving us a moment?”

She, of course, nodded and silently left the room, closing the door behind her and leaving the two of you completely alone.

He took the opportunity to awkwardly sit himself in the chair opposite you, his knee bouncing unconsciously under the table, eyes glued to the scars on your hands. They reminded him of his own.

He bit into his lip, unsure of what to say to you. Hey, how about we talk about how we both turn into vicious monsters once a month that could rip out the throats of anyone nearby?

Probably not the best conversation starter.

He awkwardly cleared his throat and tried again, opening his mouth to try and speak - yet immediately snapping it shut again, his leg bouncing more furiously than before.

“I’m not interested in being your friend,” You speak before Remus can, pressing your tongue into my cheek awkwardly, like you don’t mean to be as harsh as you do straightforward.

Remus was visibly taken aback by your bluntness though, his eyes widening slightly as his leg stopped bouncing entirely, his hands instead fiddling with his tie.

“Oh. I—”

He was completely surprised. The thought of you being just as miserable and alone as he was had never even crossed his mind, and he didn’t know how to react to you not wanting to talk to him.

“I’m not a charity case, and neither are you. This—” You gesture vaguely to the ‘meeting’ you were coerced into having by the staff. “Is stupid and pointless,”

Despite the fact that your words seemed to have a sharp tone to them, there was no doubt in his mind that you were right. This was a stupid and pointless situation.

So why did he suddenly feel a pang of disappointment when you said those words? He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him had thought there was the slightest possibility that he would finally have someone to talk to about what had been troubling him since he was four.

Yet now that it was suddenly taken away, it became more and more obvious to him how badly he wanted to talk to someone who understood everything about what he was going through.

His heart dropped when he realised that you didn’t want to be friends at all, just for the reason alone that you were probably trying to protect his self-esteem. And he, stupidly, had tried to destroy those walls just so he could feel less alone.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to hide the disappointment with his expression. “Right. Well, I suppose you’re right.”

He forced a chuckle and stood from his chair, making an effort to make it look as though he wasn’t affected by your words whatsoever.

“Good, glad we agree,” You nod shortly as you mirror his action, although without the slight limp that you fail not to notice.

He shoved his hands into his pockets in a lazy attempt to hide the way they were shaking slightly, his feet itching to just walk straight out of the door and forget the whole conversation was even happening.

Yet a voice inside his head that annoyingly sounded a lot like Sirius refused to let him give up without at least attempting to continue talking to you.

“Uh, before I go,” he murmured, his eyes still averted to everywhere except you. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Hm?” You hum indifferently.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he tried to find the best way to word what he was hoping to say.

“Is there any reason why you don’t want to talk to me?” He asked carefully, doing everything in his power to make sure he didn’t offend you or say anything that could potentially make you snap at him.

“You have friends, I have friends, what’s the point?”

He was surprised by the way you answered his question almost immediately, without any pause for thought.

“Do your friends know…” He trailed off, silently gesturing to the scars on your hands, his voice quiet.

“Why should they?” You shrug. “It’s not their problem to deal with,”

He sighs. Your friends clearly weren’t people you could talk to if you were unable to even tell them such an important (albeit scary) piece of information about yourself.

Then again, it took him four years of knowing the boys before telling them about himself, so he supposed he wasn’t doing much better.

“I think you should at least tell them,” he said, before quickly adding, “your friends, I mean. They should know, or- or at the absolute least, there should be a person you’re close to that you trust enough to tell.”

There’s a small pause before he continues. “It can help…”

“I’ll take your word for it,”

Surprisingly, he chuckled, a smile almost appearing on his face. You were clearly very defensive and not open to the idea at all, and somehow, he found that somewhat humorous.

“Look, I’m not saying we have to be best friends, and I’m definitely not saying that you have to spill all your secrets to me. But what I am saying is that it might be helpful to have somebody to talk to about it. It… it certainly helped me.”

“I’m sure it did,”

—

Remus slumped onto the worn sofa by the fire, rubbing his temples as James, Sirius, and Peter crowded around him.

“Well?” James asked, raising his brows. “How’d it go? Are you and mystery werewolf best mates now?”

Remus shot him a look. “Hardly. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Sirius tilted his head, frowning. “That’s weird. I figured anyone in their position would be thrilled to know they’re not the only one. Like, misery loves company, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe she’s scared,” Peter piped up. “Of you, I mean. Not to be rude, but... you’re a stranger to her,”

“She’s not scared,” Remus said firmly. “If anything, she’s just... wary. I don’t think she wants me—or you lot—to know her secret,” He hesitated, before adding, “I can’t really blame her,”

The room fell quiet for a moment before James clapped his hands together, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I have an idea,”

“Merlin help us,” Remus muttered.

“No, no, hear me out!” James insisted. “You should invite her to spend the full moon in the Shrieking Shack with you,”

Remus’s jaw dropped. “Are you insane? That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard—”

“Is it, though?” Sirius asked, smirking. “Think about it. You’d be able to keep each other company—maybe even form some sort of... I don’t know, a pack.”

“You’ve been reading too many books about wolves,” Remus said flatly.

James leaned forward. “I’m serious, though. She’s probably just as miserable as you are every month. And if anyone knows how to make the full moon even slightly bearable, it’s you,”

“And you think locking us both in the same room as wolves is a good idea?” Remus shot back. “We’d rip each other to shreds.”

Sirius shrugged. “Or maybe not. Maybe you’d sort yourselves out and actually bond,”

Peter looked concerned. “But what if you do try to kill each other?”

James waved a hand dismissively. “We’d be right there with them. If it got bad, we’d step in,”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous. I’m not suggesting that to her,”

Sirius grinned. “Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?”

—

“Are you fucking dense?”

He flinched. “I’m just—”

“We’d tear each other apart, Lupin,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “Werewolves are territorial. You think putting two of us in a confined space is going to end with some kind of heartwarming bonding moment? It’d be a bloodbath.”

Remus winced but didn’t back down. “I thought the same thing at first. But... I don’t know. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe we could... I don’t know, figure it out.”

You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Figure it out?” you repeated, incredulous. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Probably,” he admitted with a small laugh. “But I’ve been doing this alone for so long, and I just... I thought maybe we could try.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m not saying we have to. I just wanted to put it out there.”

You crossed your arms, considering his words. It was reckless, stupid, and probably the worst idea you’d ever heard.

But a tiny, annoying part of you wondered if he was right.

“It’s got a bed,” He offers. “King size, mattress funded by the ever-wealthy House of Black, silk sheets too,”

—

The idea of sharing the Shrieking Shack with Remus during the full moon was absurd. Absolutely, completely absurd. Yet, less than two weeks later, you found yourself standing in front of its battered wooden door with him, feeling a pit of dread deep in your stomach.

You turned to glare at him. “I hope you know I didn’t agree to this.”

“You think I did?” he muttered, his voice clipped. “I argued against it, believe me.”

“Not hard enough,” you bit back, folding your arms.

The teachers had been firm. The Shrieking Shack was the safest place for both of you, they’d said. Having you both in the same location allowed them to keep a closer watch—“just in case.” As if you’d suddenly lose all control and go rampaging through the Forbidden Forest if left on your own.

You didn’t believe for a second that this was actually about safety. It felt more like an experiment, like they were trying to prove some point about unity or shared struggle. And now, here you were, standing shoulder to shoulder with someone you hardly knew, both of you dreading what the night had in store.

Remus shifted awkwardly beside you, running a hand through his hair. “Look,” he started, “I know this isn’t ideal, but—”

“Spare me the pep talk,” you interrupted. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He sighed, pushing the door open with a loud creak. “Fine by me.”

—

The transformation was as excruciating as always. Every bone in your body broke and reformed, your muscles tearing apart only to knit themselves back together. You were dimly aware of Remus writhing across the room, his muffled groans blending with your own.

And then it was over.

You opened your eyes, your vision sharper, clearer than it had been moments before. The familiar burn of aggression and territorial instinct flared in your chest as your gaze locked onto the other wolf in the room.

Remus.

He crouched low to the ground, his eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight streaming through the boarded-up windows. His posture was tense, his lips pulled back in a low snarl.

You mirrored him instinctively, a growl rumbling in your throat as you both began circling each other, muscles coiled tight like springs. The first lunge came from you, and the two of you collided with a force that rattled the floorboards.

Teeth sank into fur, claws raked across flesh. It wasn’t vicious, not exactly—it was more testing, each of you gauging the other’s strength, establishing boundaries. You pinned him once, only for him to twist out from under you and knock you onto your back.

After several minutes, the snarls began to fade. The tension in the room ebbed slightly as you both pulled back, panting heavily, your bodies dotted with superficial cuts and bruises.

Remus lowered himself to the floor cautiously, his head tilted slightly as if to say, Are we done now?

You huffed, shaking out your fur before settling across the room, your posture still guarded but less aggressive. He watched you for a moment before mirroring your actions, lying down with his head resting on his paws.

You could swear you saw the tail of a mouse from behind them. Or was it a rat?

—

The sunrise brought a merciful end to the night. The sharp pains of transformation clawed through your body as your bones and muscles restructured, leaving you weak and aching on the dusty floorboards of the Shrieking Shack.

Groaning, you curled into yourself, feeling the stickiness of dried blood on your skin and the sting of fresh scratches across your arms and torso.

You were in a bed. How were you in a bed?

behind you, Remus stirred, his laboured breathing matching yours. For a moment, the only sound was the wind whistling through the cracks in the walls and the faint rustle of sheets as you very begrudgingly turned over to look at him, shooting him a tired glare.

“Well, that was fun. Let’s definitely do this again sometime. Same time next month?”

Remus snorted weakly, cradling his ribs as he propped himself up on his elbow. “Oh, absolutely. I’m thinking next time we should invite the whole school. Really make it a party,”

You let out a breathless laugh, despite yourself. “We’re both idiots,”

“No argument there,”

The humour didn’t entirely mask the heaviness in the room. You both bore the evidence of the night’s struggle: claw marks, bruises, and exhaustion etched deep into your bones. But neither of you had the energy to pick a fight about it—not now.

—

By the time Madam Pomfrey bustled into the hospital wing to find you both slumped on adjacent beds, you had been too drained to complain about being patched up. She clicked her tongue and muttered disapprovingly as she dabbed at the shallow wounds on your arms, but even her scolding was surprisingly gentle.

When she finally left to retrieve fresh bandages, you turned your head to look at Remus. He was lying back on his pillow, staring at the ceiling with a faraway expression, the scratches on his face already beginning to fade.

“You know,” you said, breaking the silence, “if you wanted to spend time with me, there are easier ways than inviting me to a death match,”

He turned his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Noted. Next time, I’ll send an owl with chocolates and a heartfelt apology,”

“Chocolates are a start,” you replied dryly.

A comfortable silence settled between you for a moment before he sighed. “Look... I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t exactly handle things well,”

You raised a brow. “Which part? The fighting, or the brilliant idea to lock us in the same room in the first place?”

“Both,” he admitted with a sheepish look. “I thought... maybe it would be easier if we weren’t doing this alone. But I should’ve listened when you said it was a bad idea,”

You hesitated, staring at him. It was hard to stay angry when he looked so genuinely regretful—and when you felt the same pang of guilt sitting heavy in your chest. “You weren’t wrong,” you admitted quietly.

He blinked in surprise. “Come again?”

“Don’t make me say it twice,” you muttered, your face warming slightly. “I mean... you’re right. This sucks. And maybe it’s nice—having someone who actually gets it.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the exhaustion and tension seemed to lift. “Yeah. Maybe it is,”

The two of you shared a look, and for the first time, the air between you felt lighter.

“You’re not too bad for a feral monster,” you said, smirking.

He chuckled. “You’re not so bad yourself,”

The playful banter didn’t quite mask the flicker of something deeper—an unspoken understanding, a shared acknowledgment of the burdens you both carried. And maybe, just maybe, the faintest hint of something else.

“I guess this means we’re... friends now?” you teased, raising a brow.

“Friends might be pushing it,” he shot back, his lips twitching into a grin. “But... we’ll see.”

You laughed, leaning back against your pillow. The morning sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room, and for the first time in a long while, you felt something close to hope.

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #remus lupin

160 notes · View notes

batfamily14 · 4 months ago

Text

Bruce Wanye had graciously allowed you to stay at Wayne Manor for the week—and make no mistake, he wasn’t leaving anything to chance. You’re human, or at least that’s what you claim; he’s still looking into it. As you crossed the threshold and stepped into the grand hall, you quickly realized that the guest experience here came with its own set of very specific—and rather peculiar—rules. Bruce had thoughtfully prepared a list of guidelines to ensure you don’t trigger anyone in the Manor. Please use them at your discretion.

Dick Grayson

1. Do not touch him without being in his line of sight, especially on his lower back.

2. Do NOT mention tarantulas.

3. If it isn’t already obvious, don’t play out loud circus or theatrical musicals.

4. Can be emotionally sensitive to the smell of popcorn or peanuts.

5. If he’s upset, just leave him to himself. He can become more enraged if anyone tries to calm him down before he’s ready.

6. If you wanted to help calm him, you could order from a Romani restaurant downtown.

7. Avoid calling him ‘Robin’ or referring to his past role as Batman’s partner unless necessary.

8. Don’t bring up his days circus or bring up his acrobat training unless he does it first.

9. If he’s having a difficult day, don’t try to cheer him up with humor or jokes; it might only make things worse.

10. Do not assume he wants to be the center of attention at social gatherings. He prefers to keep a low profile.

11. If you compliment him, please stay away from physical compliments.

Jason Todd

1. Do not touch him AT ALL. Unless he touches you first.

2. Don’t mention his scars, obviously, or stare.

3. The rumors you’ve heard around Gotham are probably true or false, either way, don’t ask him. Especially not about any bloody duffle bags.

4. He hates 1950s to 1960s music, as you know Joker loves it. Especially when tormenting his victims.

5. If you want to insult him, calling him ‘Robin’ will do it.

6. Don’t call him ‘Jaybird.’ He only allows Dick to do this.

7. If he’s brooding, don’t try to lighten the mood with jokes or sarcasm. He will shut you down.

8. Never imply that he’s not part of the family, even in jest.

9. Avoid taking anyone's side in arguments, especially against him, he takes things more personally than Dick.

10. Don’t ask him about his past with any of Batfamily unless he brings it up.

11. If you leave the Manor let him know, he obsesses sometimes about where everyone is.

12. Don’t playful threaten him.

Tim Drake

1. Don’t make any jokes about him, even lighthearted teasing.

2. If he’s sleepy, constantly make yourself known when entering his room or any other rooms in the household.

3. If he’s not eating much, don’t mention this directly. Instead, you could pretend to eat a snack and then offer him some.

4. He doesn’t have a spleen, so don’t hug him too tightly.

5. Don’t refer to him as “just a kid” or imply he’s not as capable as the older members of the family.

6. Avoid questioning his decisions or his ability to handle situations without offering unsolicited advice.

7. If you’re trying to comfort him, avoid overly emotional gestures. A simple, low-pressure offer of help works better than trying to “fix” the problem.

8. Do not bring up the topic of replacements—he does not like to feel like he’s “filling in” for anyone.

9. Avoid giving him unsolicited praise. He’s used to doing things under the radar and can find compliments awkward or unnecessary.

10. If he’s working on a problem or case, don’t interrupt him unless it’s important. Tim can get frustrated with distractions.

Duke Thomas

1. He’s usually tired after his day shift, so please make sure he rests and no one disturbs.

2. Don’t bring up his parents, unless he talks about it.

3. Do NOT mention Joker gas.

4. He enjoys classical music when stressed, especially piano.

5. Don’t treat him like he’s fragile—he’s been through a lot and prefers to handle things himself.

6. Avoid pushing him into leadership roles or responsibilities he’s not comfortable with. He prefers to work in the background.

7. If he’s meditating or doing personal exercises, don’t interrupt unless it’s urgent.

8. Don’t make assumptions about his powers or the “We Are Robin” group. He’s more than just his role in the city.

9. if you wanna calm him down, he does enjoy a good old school sitcom.

10. If he’s quiet or withdrawn, don’t push him to talk. Let him open up on his own terms.

Damian Wayne

1. Don’t treat him like a child when it comes to conversation. Despite his age, treat him as an equal, but appropriately. He wants to feel respected and listened to, not controlled.

2. It’s easy for him to feel inadequate, especially if you overlook him. To fix this, you can try creating tasks that are challenging yet accomplishable.

3. He can forget to be a child, and you will too sometimes. He may make you angry or stress you, but he’s still a kid. Remember he enjoys childhood things, even if he won’t mention it. Play video games, go outside, and do things as you remember from your own childhood.

4. Do NOT mention the sword scar.

5. Avoid belittling his pride or his skills. He is very sensitive about being underestimated.

6. Don’t bring up his mother, Talia, unless he initiates the conversation. He’s conflicted about her and the League of Assassins.

7. Don’t call him ‘little demon’ or any other nickname that mocks his heritage. He takes his legacy very seriously.

8. If he’s pushing himself too hard, don’t dismiss his need for rest. He may act like he doesn’t need it, but he’s still growing and has limits.

9. Don’t imply that he’s just trying to prove himself. Damian is often trying to be seen as worthy, and suggesting he’s just seeking approval can hurt his pride.

10. If he’s upset or angry, don’t try to rush him through it. Let him cool down on his own before approaching him.

Cassandra Cain

1. She spends too much time alone; please don’t push her away.

2. Do not walk up on her. Make your presence known if you value your bones.

3. If you’re picking the movie, don’t choose “Kill Bill.”

4. If you want to cheer her up, take her to the ballet.

5. Avoid making assumptions about her because of her silence. She’s not shy, just more selective with her words.

6. Don’t bring up her past as an assassin unless she initiates the topic.

7. Don’t force her into social situations. She’s comfortable in her own space and will engage when she’s ready.

8. If she’s in a bad mood, give her time to process things alone. Don’t try to “fix” it.

9. Don’t treat her like she’s broken or fragile. Her silence doesn’t mean weakness.

10. Respect her boundaries. She values her autonomy and can feel trapped if pushed too much.

11. Do touch her hair or pet her head.

Stephanie Brown

1. Do not get drunk around her, especially if you are a belligerent drunk.

2. Don’t belittle her efforts or dismiss her contributions—she’s very self-conscious about being underestimated.

3. Avoid comparing her to the others girls, she’s working hard to prove herself, and it’s a sensitive topic.

4. If she’s struggling with something, don’t try to fix it right away. She might just need someone to listen and give her space to figure things out.

5. Don’t assume she’s just the “optimistic, cheerful” one. Stephanie has her own burdens and isn’t always in the mood to be “the bright spot.”

6. Never imply she’s not capable. She’ll do anything to prove her worth.

7. Don’t joke about her past failures. She’s been through a lot, and some things are still very fresh for her.

8. If she’s in a bad mood, give her time and don’t push her to open up. Let her come to you when she’s ready.

9. Avoid any talk of the riddler.

10. If she’s feeling anxious or uncertain, don’t rush her through it or try to “cheer her up.” Let her work through things at her own pace.

Barbra Gordon

1. She’s savvy and incredibly intelligent, but even she needs a break—don’t consistently bother her.

2. Don’t push her wheelchair; she doesn’t need pity or your help unless she asks for it.

3. Do NOT touch her back.

4. Be considerate of movies or shows with a lot of gun violence and loud, abrupt sounds.

5. Avoid reminding her of her past as Batgirl, unless she brings it up herself.

6. Don’t assume she’s incapable of handling something herself. She’s incredibly resourceful and prefers to figure things out on her own.

7. Respect her boundaries when it comes to her personal space—she doesn’t like to feel crowded or rushed.

8. Never offer unsolicited assistance, especially when it comes to tech or systems. She’s more than capable and might find it patronizing.

9. If she’s not responding right away, don’t assume she’s ignoring you—she may just be deep in thought or focusing on something.

10. If she’s having a difficult day, don’t push her to “talk it out.” She might need space to process things on her own.

11. If you wanna take pictures with her she’s okay, unless it’s with a polaroid camera.

Alfred Pennyworth

1. He desires his own space; he does so much already. That being said, he doesn’t really like people cooking in his kitchen—what’s wrong with what he made?

2. Don’t interfere with his routines or try to take over his responsibilities. He’s been running the Manor for years and prefers to handle things his way.

3. Avoid offering unsolicited advice about the family. He’s seen it all and knows what’s best for everyone—no need to second-guess his judgment.

4. Don’t overcomplicate things for him. Alfred is a man of simple, practical solutions. Keep it straightforward.

5. Don’t treat him like a servant. He’s family, and he values being respected as such.

6. Never try to undermine his authority or give the children permission to do things he’s already said no to. He’s earned their respect as a father figure.

7. If he’s tired or overworked, don’t push him to keep going. Alfred will always put others first, but don’t take advantage of his generosity.

8. Avoid mentioning his past in the military unless he brings it up. He doesn’t care to dwell on it and would rather focus on the present.

9. Don’t try to be overly affectionate or emotional with him, especially in public. Alfred prefers to keep things composed and proper.

10. If he’s making tea or offering a meal, don’t turn it down unless you absolutely have to. It’s one of the ways he shows he cares.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #batman #tim drake #nightwing #dick grayson #dc comics #red robin #batfamily #stephanie brown #barbra gordon

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inhuman-obey-me · 12 days ago

Text

Waltz at the Phoenix Hotel

Word Count: 4,075 Description: Spy!AU: You're attending a rather luxurious party, the scene for your agency's latest mission: an interception case. Things seem to be going smoothly...until they aren't, thanks to two strangers who ruin your plans and turn everything upside-down. Characters: MC, Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon Note: This is rather different for this blog. I (Mod Cosmos) started this fic nearly four years ago, when the Spy event came out on OG. I abandoned it shortly after, but Mod Chaos kept bugging me every now and then about finishing the fic because they just really wanted to read it for some reason. So, after all this time, I got some motivation and went back and finished it. Sorry if there seems to be a writing shift at one point -- didn't really go back and edit much in what I had written before. But I did change the random woman to Thirteen for fun, so hope you enjoy her little cameo. Can be found on Ao3 here.

You’re standing on the grand stone staircase leading to the expansive pool at the Phoenix Hotel, champagne glass in hand as you observe the crowd. The agency had received valuable intel that there was going to be an exchange tonight, one that would put an important amount of data in the wrong person’s hands. Tasked with intercepting the drop, you found yourself at a fancy cocktail party, rubbing elbows with some of the city’s most notable socialites. You have your eyes out for the target — you had a pretty good description — when you get a signal in your earpiece.

“Black Sheep. How are things looking over there?” It was Lucifer, who was currently doing a perimeter check with Mammon.

“Not much to report here, boss.” You took a sip of your champagne, hiding your lips so that no one noticed you speaking to thin air. “How about you?”

“We’re finishing up. We’ll be back in the main party soon to help keep an eye out.”

“Keep us posted!” Mammon’s voice suddenly comes in, and you can hear a bit of a sigh from Lucifer’s end. “And make sure to watch out for any shady characters. Some of these guys can be real damn obvious.”

“Some shady guys might look shady, huh? Thanks for the advice.” There’s no hiding the sarcasm in your voice, which earns a huff from the crowing agent.

You sign off, taking a moment to admire the way the light reflects off of the surface of the pool, a web of light then bouncing off the surrounding marble statues. There are a good number of people out here, but there also wasn’t a clear and quick exit route. It might not be the most strategic place for a drop to take place, but you never knew what tricks your targets could pull.

Deciding it might be best to check out the main party hall, you head back inside, giving a smile to the waitress who takes your now empty champagne glass from your hand. You give a few more smiles and nods of acknowledgment to those you pass by — wait, is that the actor from The Twilight of a Great Family? — no, stay focused.

Grand chandeliers float above the floor where the crux of the party is, a great many more people than outside mingling and drinking the night away. You catch sight of Asmodeus and Satan, who are both working the crowd. You pass close by to hear snippets of their conversations — they’re both excellent liars, but as Asmodeus had said, Lies are like accessories, hun!, and you have to keep yourself from smiling as you hear their fibs. You catch Satan’s eye, who gives you a wink before returning to his conversation.

“To your left, Black Sheep.” You look in the aforementioned direction to see Mammon saunter in, Lucifer a few feet away. “We’ve got eyes over here.”

“And we’re covering the right wing.” It still felt odd hearing Barbatos’ voice through the ear piece. After the whole incident with the property purchase, no one expected that both he and Diavolo would now be part of their agency. They were good at what they did, there was no doubt about that, but countless missions later you still couldn’t get completely used to it.

“Got it, I —” Suddenly, you notice a woman with long, colorful hair and piercing green eyes. She fits the description of the one who would be performing the drop tonight. “Alert. Target spotted.”

“Where?” Lucifer inquires.

“Hard to miss. She stands out a bit for a covert drop. She’s near the bar, busy talking with others. She seems to be paying a bit of extra attention to her clutch.” You start making your way to the bar, figuring it provided a good vantage point to keep an eye on her while not drawing suspicion. “I’ll stay close.”

“Be careful. We’ll be here to see if any of the mentioned accomplices are around.”

You go to hover at the bar, though ask if you can just get some sparkling water with lemon. As tempting as a drink would be right now, you had a mission, and the last thing you needed was to mess up because you thought to get boozy.

“Excuse me, can I get the house whiskey, neat?” You turn to see a young handsome gentleman right by your side, silver wintry locks framing his face. He turns slightly to you with a charming smile, one that reaches his eyes, an interesting mix of brown and blue — but you know not to ever let your guard down. “Why, hello. Enjoying the party?”

“Yes, it’s been a marvelous evening so far.” You give him a polite smile. If you strike up a conversation with him, you can keep an eye on your target without appearing suspicious or obvious. “And how about yourself?”

“I could say the same, though I do wonder,” He nods his head in the direction of the pool. “How smart of an idea it is to have a bar by the pool with all these people in their fancy dress. Imagine someone just falling right in. Terrible.” Despite his words, he has a grin on his face.

You let out a soft laugh before taking another sip of your beverage, glancing in the direction of the woman you were tailing. She was still busy in conversation with a small crowd, though you caught her looking towards one of the bartenders. Is that who she’s going to give the data to…?

“Why do I get the feeling like you’re suggesting pushing someone in?” You respond, turning slightly to lean against the bar.

“Me? Never!” The man laughed, his eyes seeming to sparkle. He gave the bartender a ‘Thank you!’ as he received his drink. Taking a small sip, he continued to converse with you. “Are you here with anyone else?”

“Oh, a few friends.” You make a vague motion to the rest of the crowd. “They’re all mingling out there. How about yourself?”

“I came here with one other friend, but I lost sight of him … he’s probably in the middle of one of these groups.” He waves his hand dismissively after taking a glance around, lifting his glass up for another sip. “Hopefully I’m not bothering you?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” You smile your loveliest of smiles, hoping to continue conversing with him as a cover. Your target was inching her way closer to the bar, and you counted yourself lucky that this was going so smoothly so far. “So, tell me about the symbols on that ring…”

Ugh, these people are a bore, Asmodeus thinks to himself as he shifts into yet another conversation. No one he had talked to had been particularly interesting, and even less so informative. That was the nature of their work, in the end — not every situation would actually be helpful. The few he was talking to currently were droning on and on and — Oh? Suddenly, Asmodeus catches sight of a rather beautiful stranger. That perks him right up, and so he excuses himself from the monotonous individuals and made his way over to the other.

“Hello there, handsome.” Asmodeus flashes his most charming smile, long lashes fluttering. “How are you doing this fine evening?”

“Oh, you flatter me.” The attractive stranger smiles warmly, a tinge of red appearing on his dark skin as he brushes aside a strand of soft, brown hair. “And I’m doing quite well, thank you. Yourself?”

“Much better now that I have some wonderful company.” Asmo raises his champagne glass, one that he had hardly taken a sip of the entire time he held it this evening. “The name’s Ayden. What’s yours?”

“Scorpion, make sure you’re staying on task.” Lucifer’s warning voice came through his earpiece. The flirtatious agent makes a signal behind his back, communicating “Don’t worry, this is work!”

“You can call me Henry.” He raised his glass to meet the other’s. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there are far more people here than I thought there would be.” His brilliant cerulean eyes glance around the hall before returning to Asmodeus, his gaze soft. “Apologies if I come across as a bit nervous. I moved here recently, so a friend insisted I tag along. Though, not sure where he’s gone off to now … ”

“Ah, don’t worry about a thing, my dear Henry! I’m sure you’ll find your friend. But until then, I’ll keep you company. So, tell me, what brought you to the city .. ?” Asmodeus began his series of questions to get people to open up, to perhaps give something away, let just the tiniest detail slip that might give him something that he wants … flirting was just a bonus.

As they converse, Satan hovers close by. He also hadn’t much luck with those he had been speaking to, none of them potential suspects for accomplices. Just rich and well-known folks running in the upper circles of society. Not to say that the conversations still couldn’t be interesting — there was always plenty to learn — but it was getting frustrating that they were having so little luck finding the people they wanted. At least Black Sheep has the main target, he muses, looking over to the bar to see them conversing with a stranger. The target was still nearby, arguably even closer to them then she had been before.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Satan walks over to his fellow agent and the stranger, earning a quick glare from Asmodeus. “But I just have to ask, where did you get that lovely white vest?” And just like that, Satan eases himself into the conversation, all the while continuing to observe the target from afar.

Henry smiles at them both, continuing to engage in conversation quite happily, fingers seemingly idly fiddling with a ring on his right hand.

“Fascinating. I really do wonder if you’re just trying to pull my leg here.” You’ve been deep in conversation with this man for a bit now — Sal, he said his name was — and you had to admit he was certainly entertaining company.

“Well, it’s up to you if you believe me or not.” He shrugs with a bit of a mischievous grin.

“Black Sheep, looks like she’s getting ready to make the drop.” You hear Diavolo’s voice through your earpiece — he must have been watching from his current station. Sure enough, your target has removed a small silver case from her clutch as she leans against the bar a bit a ways from where you currently are — and the bartender is walking towards her.

“Ah, apologies, I see one of my friends over there,” You push yourself away from the bar counter, taking a step towards the woman — though you make sure to take your still half-full glass of sparkling water with you. “It was very nice to meet you, Sal. Perhaps I’ll see you around later?”

“Oh, of course. It was a pleasure to meet you as well.” He smiles, but there almost seems to be something off about it. You don’t have time to dwell on that, you remind yourself, and quickly make your way to the target, who looks like she’s about to order a drink. She’s covered the small case with a black bar napkin. Perfect.

You pretend to trip, purposefully letting your beverage spill all over the woman’s dress, eliciting a shocked gasp.

“Oh no! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, hand going to grab the napkins from their place on the bar, swiftly collecting the one that hid the data as well.

The woman is obviously irritated, but tries to brush it off. “Mm. Accidents happen.”

“Thankfully it was just water, so it should dry up without any damage!” You reassure her, passing the ordinary napkins to her hand so that she could dab at the spill, all the while tucking your prize into your sleeve. A few more apologies and exchanges later, you make your exit, ready to declare mission success and get yourself out of here before the woman realized she was missing something very important.

At least, that was your plan.

You’re about to radio in your triumph when a series of actions happens so quickly you don’t have time to react. Something (or rather, someone) causes you to actually trip this time, but you’re saved from an unsightly fall by fingers that gently but firmly wrap around your wrist and an arm around your waist. Before you can even begin to turn around to thank your savior, you hear a familiar voice in your ear,

“Sorry about this.”

A response can’t even leave your lips as you’re suddenly twirled away as if you were dancing the waltz, only to be found without a partner when you come back full circle. You can feel dread beginning to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, and you check to see if you have the small drive, patting yourself down.

It’s gone. Shit.

Your eyes dart around to find the culprit, and you manage to catch a glimpse of those silver locks disappearing into the crowd.

“Uh, we’ve got a problem.” You run after him while alerting the rest of the agency. “Looks like someone else was after the data too. Tall guy, silver hair, navy blue suit with a lighter blue shirt. He’s running towards the West exit.”

You’re only met with static.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

The white noise continues.

This couldn’t be happening … was something jamming their communicators?!

You’ve lost sight of Sal — If that’s even his real name! — so you look around for any other familiar faces. Surely the others noticed by now that they couldn’t communicate with each other..?

“Hey!” Diavolo’s suddenly at your side. “Thank goodness I was keeping watch nearby — I can’t get through to anyone, but several of them had eyes on you, so they should be going after the guy.”

Sure enough, you catch Lucifer and Mammon running out the West doors. Both you and Diavolo follow suit, trying not to raise too much of a commotion as you weave through the crowd. The cool night air is welcome as you’re feeling a bit too warm from running as your heartbeat races. A security guard tries to get in your way, but you both dash past him, calling out a “Sorry!” behind you as you continue your chase.

Moments Before ...

“Sorry, gentlemen, but looks like my friend is calling.” Henry gives the other two an apologetic smile. “It was lovely to meet you both. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.”

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Satan starts.

“—And I’d love to see you again. Give me a call when you get the chance?" Asmo finishes, slipping a card into Henry's hand. "Bye-bye, now!” He gives the departing gentleman a wink and wave before turning to his fellow agent with a sigh. “Well, he was an interesting fellow. Think he might be of interest in the future?”

“He certainly seemed sharp,” Satan hums. “But also hard to read …” The blond shakes his head, taking the last sip of his drink. "Think our sheep's got the drop yet? Haven't heard an update…" He takes a moment to look around the party, and it dawns on him that he can't hear or see any of the others. "I think we have a problem."

"Hm?" Asmodeus slams the compact mirror in his hand shut, eyes narrowing as he notices a sudden commotion by the West entrance. "Well, I think we've got a bit of fun on our hands."

Static comes over the communicators, a distorted voice coming through: Tchhh…upstairs…tchhh…roof…tchhh

"Fun isn't the word I'd use." Satan huffed. "Let's go."

You're thankful that Barbatos memorized the layout of the hotel and its surroundings before the mission, as he managed to get ahead of the thief and block him from going any further on this quieter side of the promenade. Lucifer and Mammon flank him from the other side, effectively backing him against the wall.

"Really thought you could get past all of us?" Mammon mocks, confidently putting out a hand, fingers waving in a 'gimme' motion. "Hand it over, pal."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Oh, save it!" You catch up, slightly out of breath with Diavolo on your heels. "You know exactly what he means. You stole something from me, so hand it over."

"Stole?" That damned mischievous smile again. "Weren't you doing the same thing? Not sure any of you have more right to it than I do."

"That may be true." Chills run down your spine as Barbatos speaks. "But it would be in your best interest to comply and give us what we're asking for, before things take a rather nasty turn."

"HEY!" A couple of burly hotel security personal charge towards you. "What's going on?!"

"Well, have fun with that!" Taking advantage of the distraction, Sal managed to hoist himself up to the fire escape that was hanging above, scampering up a ladder before diving through an open window that's promptly shut behind him. He's not alone!

"Sorry, officers. We'll be out of your hair in a moment!" Diavolo steps forward to distract the guards, signaling for the rest to pursue. "It's just a bit of a personal issue. I'll be happy to explain everything…"

"Door to the right, should go into the service stairwell." Barbatos taps a hacked keycard and unlocks the door, yanking it wide open. "I'll stay here in case they come back down, you all better hurry."

"Don't have to tell us twice," you sprint up the stairs, Mammon ahead and Lucifer behind.

"They're escapin' by going up? This place has 9 floors, right?" Mammon asks, and you think back to what you remember of the hotel blueprint.

"Crap." Realization dawns on you, your heart pounding as loud as your steps hitting the concrete stairs. "There's a private helipad on the roof. Think they got an escape helicopter?"

"Let's assume they do." Lucifer replies, but your upward ascent is shortly interrupted by a loud scream on floor seven. The door swings open, a housekeeper stumbling into the stairwell, her eyes widening as she sees all of you.

"Sorry ma'am!" A familiar voice from the hallway, and you whip around the landing and housekeeper to dart into the corridor, jumping over an overturned housekeeping cart to see that Satan and Asmodeus have cornered Sal — and another. His accomplice.

"And I thought we had something special, Henry! Or whatever your name is!" Asmodeus pouts, stun gun in hand and pointed firmly at the beautiful stranger. Satan had his aimed at the one more familiar to you. "Now, how about you hand it over and we can forget all about this, hm?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Henry responds with a soft yet dazzling smile.

"You're outnumbered, five to two." Lucifer steps forward, his expression stern. "You don't have much of a choice."

"Now, now," Sal responds, putting his hands up as if to surrender. "I think we might actually all be on the same side here. We're both trying to make sure this data doesn't get in the wrong hands, right?"

"You could very well be the wrong hands." Satan snarls. "You don't exactly inspire confidence."

"Ouch!" Sal chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, we've actually heard about you guys. One of the best agencies around. We didn't realize you'd also be here when we picked up this intelligence. A fault on our contact's part."

"We do, however, have good reason to believe that this data is essential to a very important case." Henry shifts in place, and you notice his thumb brushing against a ring on is middle finger. "Which is why we're reluctant to give it up. If we can come to an agreement…"

"Not a chance!" Mammon huffs, his hand going to his own stun gun. "We've got no reason to trust you two."

"Hmph." Lucifer shoots a look to Mammon. "Hand it over to us first, and then we can see about any agreements."

"And what if you just take it for yourselves?" Sal shakes his head, a hand going into his inner suit pocket. "We'll need something a bit more concrete than that."

Ding. The sound of an arriving elevator sets a flurry into motion.

"Oh no you don't!" Asmodeus snaps as the two start moving, his finger hitting the trigger on his weapon — only for nothing to happen, and you feel the hair on your neck rise. "What the…?"

A loud hiss hits your ear next and you recognize the sound of a smoke bomb going off, your vision clouded. Coughing as you try to get a handle on your surroundings, you make out two shadows sprinting through the hallway.

"Fuck, they hit us with an EMP! No wonder our guns didn't work." You hear Satan behind you as you lunge towards the elevator lobby, cursing as you slam right into the doors as they shut.

"Damn it. Everyone, to the stairs!"

"Wait," Lucifer is beside you now. "They're not going up — they're going down."

"Down…wait, the parking garage!"

"You lot go upstairs just in case," Lucifer commands of Mammon, Satan, and Asmodeus as you all reach the stairwell. "We'll go down and try to get a hold of the other two."

Hands gripping the railing, you and Lucifer both leap down the stairs, nearly free-falling at times as you skip over landings — one moment your foot touches the floor, the next you're in the air again as you make another leap.

"Dragon. Butler. Can you two hear us? They're escaping through the parking garage!" You frantically speak, hoping the communicators are working again.

"Tchhh…can't…zhhhh…in pursuit."

The garbled message means something got through, and you can only hope that Diavolo and Barbatos got the gist of your message.

Bursting through the doors of the parking garage, you hear a motor revving along with a chorus of yells. You exchange a look with Lucifer and both dash towards the furor, only to hear a loud crash in a matter of seconds.

"We've got them!" Diavolo shouts the moment he sees you and Lucifer, his hand on the car's driver-side handle, ready to rip the door open.

But when he does, there's no one inside.

"What—" Diavolo's jaw hangs open, with Barbatos glowering beside him.

A screech of tires, and you all turn to see a motorbike peel out on the far other side of the garage. The shock leaves your bodies as you all race to the other exit, only to see that the two intruders were long gone.

"How many escape plans did they come up with?!" Adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you kick a concrete pillar in frustration.

"You lost them?!" Satan's voice echoes through the structure, the others having now come to join the rest of the agents left bewildered by the night's events.

"Those two…they're good." Asmodeus whistles, bristling as several others shoot him a glare. "What? They are! They managed to get away from us, all seven of us!"

"We need to find out who they are." Barbatos sighs. "Perhaps Leviathan can help track them down if we can collect any footage."

"I think we'll be needin' to make our escape first." Mammon glances over his shoulder. "Somethin' tells me the hotel staff and security aren't gonna be too happy with us causing such a ruckus."

"Right, let's get out of here and regroup." Lucifer massages his temple. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Defeated, you all scamper to your own getaway vehicles, the faint sound of approaching police sirens putting an extra pep to your step and a rev to the engines.

As you settle into your seat, you take stock of what you still had on you. Your stun gun, your communicator, a few other covert tools, and — wait, what's this?

A business card tucked into your belt, thick and smooth to the touch. Through the passing streetlights, you can see there's a single word in the center, embossed in blue and gold:

PURGATORY

Flipping it over, there's a string of digits, with a handwritten note underneath:

Call me. ;)

You scoff in disbelief.

"What've you got there, hun?" Asmodeus looks up from his phone, glancing at your hand.

"Oh," you calmly pocket the card again. "…It's nothing."

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fandomnsfw · 2 years ago

Text

Because He Listens - Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Prompt: I tried my best with this one. It isn't as long as some of my others but I wrote what felt right at the time. love triangles are hard enough pentagons much harder.

Warnings: None just swearing really.

Beta'd by my lovely long time friend, beta and fellow writer @lets-imagine-fanfics

ENJOY!!

*********

You started your day like every other day.

Wake up brush your teeth, take a shower, get dressed, makeup, hair, then out the door. However, this morning you were bombarded with Damon Salvatore laying on your bed causally when you came out with a towel on your body, and one wrapped around your hair. You gave him a silent glare as you picked out your clothes in silence.

Once you’d gotten what you needed out of your closet, you spun around to face him when it became obvious that he wasn’t going away, no matter how much you ignored his presence. You gave him a fake sweet smile that did nothing but amuse the older man.

“How can I help you, Damon?” You asked with a sickeningly sweet tone.

“Have you thought about what I said last night?” He responded, his tone turning serious.

“Why are you doing this Damon? You’ve never cared if I was at the centre of danger before!” You shouted as you walked through your front door after fighting against some witch who came for a doppelganger or more specifically doppelganger blood.

“Because I care okay! Oh yes, I know that’s a shocking concept but I. CARE.” He punctuated with his usual level of sarcasm and sass.

“About Elena yes. Me? Never.” You snarked back with an eye roll.

“Well, I care about you, okay?” He sighed seriously, his usually sarcastic demeanour dropping.

“Why?” You snapped making him close his eyes as if exasperated by this entire situation.

“Because-” He seemed to stop, wondering whether his reason was worth stating but you crossed your arms in a way that said you wouldn’t drop this, so he stared down at you as he walked closer.

“Because...I love you.” He muttered quietly.

“Tell me your joking?” You whispered with wide eyes.

“Oh yeah, this seems like the type of prank I’m fond of, doesn’t it?” He growled in annoyance.

“What is it with you brothers!?” You screamed as you lightly pushed Damon away.

“So, I guess Stefan got here first.” He grumbled like a pouting child.

“What is there to think about, Damon?” You sighed as you stepped away from him, your eyes dropping to the floor as you contemplated how to handle this.

You’d never really been told ‘I love you’ by anyone who seriously meant it and now you had Stefan, who had told you before the fight; and Damon, who had told you after the fight. Oh, and let's not forget the good Mikaelson brothers who seemed to have taken an interest too. How the hell were you supposed to deal with this?

“Well, do you like either of us?” Damon tried with an eye roll to show his frustration.

“Between the Salvatore brothers, the Mikaelson brothers and a witch trying to kill me I haven’t exactly thought about it!” You shouted as you disappeared into the bathroom to change.

You slid on your undies, bra and jeans before realising you hadn’t grabbed your top as you were too busy thinking about how your life was turning out. You knew Klaus had a thing for Caroline as well, so you never really took him seriously until last night while fighting this witch, he jumped in front of a giant flaming ball to save you all the while Elijah hid you behind him.

“I’m not doing this. I’m not Elena and I don’t enjoy being stuck in a love triangle...or a pentagon in this case.” You snapped through the door before wrapping the towel around your bra-covered torso and making your way out of the bathroom to grab your top.

You grabbed the article of clothing ignoring Damon’s eyes on you before rushing back to the bathroom. Once you’d tucked your plain black V-neck t-shirt into your high waisted jeans you exited the bathroom to Damon who was sitting on the end of your bed staring at the floor.

“If you can’t decide then I guess we’ll do it for you.” Damon hissed before speeding out of your room and your apartment before you could even ask what he meant.

You stood there with a frown on your face as you pulled out a pair of socks and started putting them on but once again you were interrupted by a knock on your door. You finished putting your socks on and walked out of your bedroom to answer the apartment door.

You stared at the British vampire with narrowed eyes as she looked at you in confusion, her eyebrow raised as if silently asking what was wrong.

“You’re not here to profess your undying love for me too, are you Bex?” You whispered suspiciously.

“No, definitely not love.” Rebekah snorted as she pushed her way into the apartment without another word.

“So Damon told you?” Rebekah chuckled as she flopped down onto your couch.

“Yeah, and Stefan. All the while your biggest brother protected me from a witch and your other brother took a fireball for me. I feel like I’m in the cheesiest rom-com ever to exist. I have my own Harem.” You sighed dramatically as you flopped down next to her, sinking into the couch as if that would protect you from this entire situation.

“Did you get Bonnie to cast a spell?” She whispered jokingly.

“In what world is this something I would want?” You asked seriously making Rebekah shrug in response.

“To break 4 people's hearts all in one go!” You huffed angrily making her smile sympathetically.

“So...you don’t like any of them?” Rebekah asked with a raised brow.

“I didn’t say that! But I’m not gonna choose one so the others can watch as I have a happy ending with the one I do like!” You snapped as you jumped up from the couch.

“Well, it's better than letting yourself be unhappy just to save these idiots. They all chose to pursue you, that was their choice. Forget about them and do what makes you happy.” She responded with a kind smile on her face.

“Everyone is gonna be unhappy with my choice.” You muttered sadly, your eyes casting down to the floor the fear of your friends hating you was eating away at you.

“So? Why does it matter? Do something for you.” She stated calmly as she stood from the couch.

“Is it really that simple though?” You asked uneasily, your heart pounding a little at the thought of finally pursuing the one person you’d been head over heels for, for months.

“Yeah, it’s really that simple.” She stated as she pulled you into a hug.

You spend the rest of the day with Rebekah, eating waffles and drinking coffee while you watch bad tv. You didn’t know what you’d do without her in your corner to back you up. At least if your friends abandoned you, you’d always have Rebekah.

It was now 4pm and Rebekah was about to leave but before she was out of the door one of her brothers texted her. The text had Rebekah staring at her phone with wide eyes before glancing up at you with a pained look on her face. You frowned as she passed you the phone but once you looked at the words you couldn’t help the scream of frustration that came out of your mouth.

Kol - Why are our dear brothers having dinner with the Salvatores’?

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” You screamed making Rebekah wince at the volume.

“I’ll drive you.” was all Rebekah said as she took out her car keys and started to head out of the apartment.

You slid your boots on, running after her with an angry frown on your face. You couldn’t believe these idiots! What were you, some prize to be won! You glanced at Rebekah who looked rather angry herself, but you knew it was because she, as a woman who fought for woman’s rights back in the twenties, thought this whole thing was barbaric.

She sped to her house which wasn’t far her fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as she pulled up to the Mikaelson mansion. She got out of the car, followed by you as you both stormed into the house.

You’re glad you had backup because this wasn’t something you wanted to deal with at all, let alone by yourself.

She flung the door open to the dining room rather dramatically. If it was any other day, you’d probably have laughed at her antics but right now all you could see was red. You stared at the four men who were casually eating dinner and sipping glasses of blood.

“What the hell do you wankers think you’re doing!?” Rebekah screeched, her arms crossing over her chest.

“That is not your concern, Rebekah. If you could please leave that would be much appreciated.” Elijah stated politely, making you raise a brow at him.

“It’s definitely my business don’t you think, oh noble one.” You snapped sarcastically as you mirrored Rebekah’s stance.

“I would like to point out I didn’t put this dinner together.” Klaus chuckled as he glanced at Damon and his own brother, snitching on them quite happily.

“Seriously, Elijah? What happened to be a feminist? I guess we can’t just forget you were from a Viking era! Fucking caveman.” You snarled making Elijah look down at the floor, shame taking over his expression.

“What did you think was going to come from this?” You asked seriously.

“We were trying to find a fair way we could all throw our hat in the ring,” Stefan muttered quietly his face covered in shame just like Elijah’s.

“THERE IS NO FUCKING RING! KEEP YOUR FUCKING HATS ASSHOLES!” You snapped.

“That’s exactly what Klaus said you’d say.” Damon scoffed as he glanced over at the hybrid.

“That’s because he listens to me!” You snapped angrily making everyone's eyes snap to Klaus who looked rather proud of himself.

“Him? Seriously!” Damon shouted as he jumped up from his seat at the table.

“I am so not getting into this right now.” You sighed as your caught Klaus’s eyes staring at you curiously, but he kept quiet.

“He’s a fucking monster!” Damon growled angrily.

“She only said he listened Damon. Calm down.” Stefan sighed softly.

“She’s obviously not going to pick one of you nutters. What do ya say, darling?” You heard a mischievous voice chuckled behind you and Rebekah.

“You’re so not funny Kol.” You huffed as you pushed him away from you with a small laugh.

“Well, it’s obviously going to be one of the noble ones.” Kol snorted as he pointed to Stefan and Elijah.

“Ya know what! I’m sick of you ancient bastards assuming you have all the answers, okay, so here we have it!” You shouted as you stormed over to Klaus’s chair and stood behind it.

“SEE!” Damon screamed as he got into a position like he was about to fight anyone who disagreed.

“SHUT UP! Do you even know why I’m picking him? Hmm or do you only care if I picked you? Hmm.” You snarled as you started towards Damon.

“That man over there was abused and betrayed his entire life! Yes, he did some shit but so have ALL of you, so have I. He gifted me things-”

“I gifted you things!” Damon shouted, interrupting you.

“Yes, because I seem like a diamond and Prada kind of girl, don’t I!?” You snapped making his eyes widen.

“What did he gift you? Princess dresses and horses?” Damon snapped right back at you.

“No! He bought me a stuffed wolf, drew a picture of me, he gave me a hand-carved figurine of my favourite tv character and last, but definitely not least, he took my dead mother’s coat to be mended by the best he could find so it would look brand new! But gifts aren't everything Damon! He also listened to me talk for hours about things I like, even though he has no idea what I’m talking about half the time. He drops off coffee and food for me when I’m so busy with college work, I don’t eat or drink. He even brought me a full 2 weeks' worth of grocery shopping with all the things I would usually get. He never once touched me or came into my house without me saying so. The way he looks at me as he draws me doing mundane things, makes me feel so seen and cared for. I am very much in love with him and if you don’t fucking like it, there's the door!” You screamed as Klaus glanced at you in absolute disbelief.

“You see that look right there?” You exclaimed as you looked at him from where you were originally screaming at Damon.

“He’s shocked I chose him. You lot think you have the right to put your hat in the ring but he’s just happy to be around me and before anyone says anything else. It’s been him long before you lot made your feelings for me known.” You chuckled softly as you gave Klaus the sweetest smile you could muster which he returned rather shyly.

“I think it’s time we leave, brother,” Stefan stated as Elijah stared between you and his brother.

“I did not realise you cared for her so much Niklaus. I am sorry to have gotten in the way of that dear brother.” Elijah stated seriously his tone apologetic.

“Congrats on doing what you wanted, Y/N. Can’t wait to be sister in laws!” Rebekah chuckled as she ran out of the room dragging Kol with her.

Once you were alone with Klaus you stared at him from the other side of the dining room table with a soft nervous smile. Your heart was pounding in your chest as he stood up and stride over to you. You barely had a chance to know what was happening but when he took you into his arms holding you like this wasn’t real and it would vanish if he blinked too hard.

“I love you, Niklaus Mikaelson.” You whispered into his ear softly.

He pulled away to look down at you as he cupped the back of your head. His ocean blue eyes staring down at you in amazement. He opened his mouth a few times but for the first time in 1000 years, his words seemed to be failing him.

“I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N.” He whispered as his eyes flickered to your lips.

“Kiss me, Niklaus.” You whispered, clutching his Henley like it was the only thing grounding you.

He leant down, his plush lips pressing against yours so carefully it made your heart pound against your chest as if looking for an escape. His lips were soft and gentle as he kissed you, holding onto you as if you’d disappear at any second.

Once he pulled away you wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in your chest which he returned by holding you as close as he could.

“T-Thank you for loving me.” He whispered into your hair before placing a kiss there.

“I always will. Speaking of we should probably talk about me changing.” You stated softly making him frown.

“I don’t see why you need to change. You look fine the way you are now.” He stated in confusion which had you giggling.

“I meant into a vampire. I don’t wanna be old and wrinkly while you still look hotter than hell itself.” You chuckled and he pulled away from you his eyes widening.

“You’d become a vampire for me?” He asked as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Of course, I would. I’m waiting till I turn 21 though.” You chuckled making him smile down at you with a loving smile.

“Yes, love.” He laughed as you pulled him back in for another hug.

This was the man you loved, no matter what.

#klaus mikaelson x you #klaus mikaelson x reader #reader insert #requested #tvd #the originals #imagine #vampire diaries #fluff #damon salvatore #elijah mikaelson #stefan salvatore #klaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson x reader

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lila-lou · 3 months ago

Text

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 4✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, Fluff, John being a dick

Word Count: 6498

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

Dean’s eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint, but there was a gentleness beneath it that you hadn’t seen before, a warmth that seemed to speak of all the unspoken things between you. He leaned in a little closer, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looked down at you.

“Still making me work for it, huh?”, he teased, his tone playful but filled with an affection that felt deeply personal. “I swear, you haven’t changed a bit”.

He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary, the tender gesture sending a wave of warmth through you. “But maybe that’s just part of your charm”, he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, so soft it felt like it was meant only for you. “You always knew how to keep me on my damn toes”.

His gaze never wavered, locked on yours with an intensity that seemed to cut through the noise of the world around you. There was a vulnerability there, a hint of something deeper that he was offering without saying a word. The teasing smirk softened, his eyes reflecting the weight of everything he was trying to convey, all the words he hadn’t said back then and the feelings that had lingered, just waiting for this moment.

“Think you might give me another chance to make a few new memories?”, he asked softly, the question hanging in the air, equal parts hopeful and sincere.

You felt a spark of excitement mingling with a sudden wave of nerves, the mixture leaving you a bit breathless. Dean’s presence, his soft teasing, his gaze that seemed to reach right through you—it was overwhelming in the best way, but the memory of yesterday lingered. You took a shaky breath, letting your fingers brush against his hand before you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, a little smile tugging at your lips despite your nerves.

“What about that whole goodbye yesterday?”, you asked, raising an eyebrow, hoping the question might mask just how giddy you felt inside. “I thought you were out of here, off to some other town by now”.

Before Dean could answer, Sam, who was still deeply engrossed in his book, piped up with a deadpan comment, not even bothering to lift his eyes from the page. “Oh, we’re sticking around for a few more days”, he mumbled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Dean’s a little too… distracted to focus on the case right now”.

Dean shot Sam a glare, though he couldn’t hide the faint blush that crept up his neck. “Thanks, Sammy. Real subtle”.

Sam still didn’t even look up, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he flipped another page. “Hey, someone’s gotta point out the obvious”, he said, shrugging casually. “Otherwise, we’ll be here forever while you pretend it’s all about ‘research’”.

Dean groaned, rolling his eyes. “Real funny, Sam. I’m just trying to… handle things”, he said. But Sam wasn’t done.

“Yeah, ‘handle things’. That what we’re calling it now?”, Sam finally looked up, his grin unrepentant. “Pretty sure this case could’ve been wrapped up yesterday if someone hadn’t been, you know..”.

Dean looked ready to retort, but you cut in, suppressing a laugh. “Well, I’m glad he’s sticking around for the ‘case’”, you teased, raising an eyebrow at Dean. “Though, maybe Sam’s right. Wouldn’t want you to get too… distracted”.

Sam’s laughter bubbled up as he leaned back in the armchair, clearly enjoying every moment of Dean’s embarrassment. “See, she gets it”, he said, winking at you. “Guess I’ll just take the lead on the case. Let you two ‘handle things’ in the meantime”.

Dean gave an exasperated sigh, but there was no hiding the smile that played on his lips as he shot his brother a look. “Fine. You get point on the case”, he grumbled, “but I swear, one more comment out of you and you’re sleeping in the car”.

“Worth it”, Sam replied, unfazed, his grin wide.

Then, Sam stood up, holding up a book he’d clearly deemed useful, and looked at you with a casual, “How much?”. But before he could reach for his wallet, you shook your head gently, a small smile on your lips as you looked between the two brothers.

“It’s on the house”, you murmured, “if your brother agrees to get those milkshakes with me”.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, surprised but clearly pleased, his smirk quickly replacing his stunned expression. “Well, that sounds like a deal to me”, he replied, shooting Sam a triumphant look. “Milkshakes it is”.

Sam rolled his eyes with a good-natured sigh, tossing Dean a look that said, I knew this was coming. “I’ll wait in the car”, he said, clearly amused by the whole situation. He held the book up in a half-hearted salute, then headed toward the door, the bell above jingling as he stepped outside.

Dean watched his brother leave, rolling his eyes but smiling to himself. As the door closed, he turned back to you, the teasing smirk gone, replaced by something softer, more genuine.

“So”, he said, his voice warm and almost hesitant, “guess we’re on for those milkshakes?”.

You felt your heart skip a beat, but you nodded, feeling a quiet excitement settle over you. “Guess so”, you replied, your smile mirroring his.

Dean shifted slightly, hands finding their way into his pockets, his gaze never wavering from yours as he spoke. “Well… when do you close up here?”, he asked, his tone casual but his eyes carrying that unmistakable spark of anticipation. “Figure I can come back and pick you up”.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you looked back at him. “I’ll be done around six”, you replied, feeling a little thrill run through you at the thought of him coming back, of sharing a night out with him like old times.

Dean nodded, that familiar grin breaking through. “Alright, I’ll be here”, he said, his voice warm with certainty. He took a small step back, as if giving you space but still keeping close enough to make it clear he wasn’t in a hurry to leave. “Guess I’ll see you at six, then”.

“Looking forward to it”, you replied, your voice softer than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. The easy charm in his smile, the way he looked at you—it all made it impossible to hide your excitement.

He hesitated for a moment, then gave you a final, lingering look before heading toward the door. “See you soon”, he said, the words carrying a promise. With one last grin, he stepped out, leaving the door to chime softly in his wake.

Back in the car, Sam was already nose-deep in the book he’d picked up from your shop, eyes scanning the pages as he began to mutter. “Alright, I think I might have a lead here. Looks like there’s something about local lore—could be tied to a spirit or curse”. He continued to flip through the pages, his voice growing more animated as he pieced together the clues. But a few moments later, he glanced up, quickly realizing that Dean’s focus was nowhere near the case.

Dean was leaning back in the driver’s seat, staring out the windshield with a faint smile on his face, his gaze distant and his expression soft. Sam raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes as he closed the book slightly to get his brother’s attention.

“Earth to Dean”, Sam said, nudging his shoulder. “I’m over here talking about the case, and you’re clearly somewhere else”.

Dean blinked, snapping out of his thoughts, but the smirk on his face didn’t fade. “Huh? Oh, yeah, the case. Ghosts and… stuff”. He shrugged, clearly trying to play it off, though he wasn’t fooling Sam in the slightest.

Sam rolled his eyes, leaning back with an exasperated sigh. “You’re seriously gone, aren’t you?”, he teased, crossing his arms as he watched Dean with a knowing grin. “Don’t think I’ve seen you this distracted since—well, probably since the last time you saw her”.

Dean tried to hide his grin, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “Can you blame me?”, he muttered, glancing out the window as if trying to avoid Sam’s teasing look. “I mean… she’s different. Always was”.

Sam’s expression softened slightly, his teasing tone fading as he nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I know”, he said quietly, giving Dean a small, supportive smile. “Guess it’s about time you got a second chance, huh? Without… dad being a dick about it”.

Dean looked toward Sam, his expression shifting as a flicker of something unspoken passed between them. He knew Sam was right—this was a second chance, a rare one in their lives. The memory surfaced then, unbidden, of the last time he’d felt this strongly, back when he’d snuck into the motel after that first night with you, only to find his father waiting, disapproval practically radiating off him.

-Flashback-

The motel was silent as Dean carefully turned the doorknob, hoping to sneak back in unnoticed. He was exhausted, still floating in the quiet afterglow of the night he’d spent with you, and all he wanted was a few hours of sleep before facing another day of the usual grind. But as he stepped inside, he froze. John was sitting at the small table by the window, a cup of coffee in hand, his eyes dark and cold as he stared at his son.

Dean swallowed, knowing immediately that he wasn’t getting off easy. He barely managed to shut the door before John spoke, his voice low and laced with that familiar edge of disappointment.

"Where the hell have you been, Dean?", John’s tone wasn’t just accusatory—it was dismissive, as if he already knew the answer and couldn’t bring himself to care about anything other than his own frustration. "Out wasting time, doing God-knows-what? Thought you were better than some lovesick idiot chasing after a girl".

Dean clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body tense. "Just needed some air", he muttered, trying to downplay it, hoping that would be enough. But John wasn’t having it.

"Air, huh?", John scoffed, standing up and moving closer, his presence filling the small room. "You're supposed to be focused, Dean. Not out there making a fool of yourself over some girl". The way he spat out the word "girl" made it clear how little he thought of you—or anyone outside their world.

Dean felt his fists clench, a sharp pang of anger shooting through him. "I know my priorities, Dad", he replied, his voice controlled but barely hiding the frustration he felt.

"Doesn’t look like it", John shot back, his voice growing louder. "You’ve got responsibilities. You think any girl out there is gonna understand that? Gonna put up with our life?". He shook his head, a harsh laugh escaping him. "No, Dean, you’re fooling yourself. And you’re wasting your damn time. Love is for idiots who can afford it".

The noise stirred Sam, who was asleep in the bed. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, clearly disoriented. "What’s going on?".

"Nothing", John snapped, shooting a glare at Sam. "Just your brother learning the hard way that our family doesn’t get to have normal lives. We don’t get to waste time on pointless things". He turned his gaze back to Dean, his expression hard and unyielding. "You’re gonna end up just like me, Dean. Chained to this life because it’s all you’ll ever have".

The words hit Dean like a punch to the gut, and for a second, he felt every bit the "lovesick kid" his father accused him of being. He wanted to argue, to push back, to tell John he was wrong. But the weight of his father’s expectations, of the life they’d been handed, pressed down on him, leaving him feeling trapped and small.

As John finally walked away, heading to the bathroom without another word, Sam looked at Dean, his eyes wide with sympathy and quiet understanding.

“Dean…”, Sam began, his voice tentative, but Dean shook his head, silencing his brother. He didn’t want Sam’s sympathy. He didn’t want to admit that John’s words had gotten to him, that they’d dug deep into his insecurities.

“Go back to sleep, Sammy”, Dean mumbled, his voice thick, trying to bury everything he felt.

-End of the Flashback-

Dean let out a quiet sigh, his gaze distant as he thought about that night, about how he’d felt torn between his father’s expectations and his own desire for something real, something normal. Sitting here now, next to Sam, he realized just how different things could be now, with John gone and the two of them forging their own path.

“Guess I don’t have to worry about Dad breathing down my neck this time”, Dean said softly, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, well, Dad’s not here to tell you what you can’t do”, Sam replied quietly, his tone both gentle and encouraging. “So maybe… it’s time to focus on what you actually want”.

Dean let Sam’s words sink in. For years, every choice he’d made, every relationship he’d considered, had always been shaped by his father’s voice in the back of his mind. But now? There was no rulebook.

“Maybe”, Dean murmured, looking out the window as if he could already see a new path forming before him. He gave a wry smile, finally meeting Sam’s gaze. “Didn’t think you’d be my life coach, Sammy, but… thanks”.

Sam shrugged, that familiar teasing smirk returning. “Don’t mention it. Just try not to screw this up, alright?”, he joked, though there was real warmth behind the words.

Dean laughed, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement settle in his chest. He knew what he wanted—to be with you, at least for now, without worrying about where it might lead or how it might end. It was a freedom he hadn’t felt in a long time, and it filled him with a renewed sense of purpose.

A few hours later, Dean found himself in tiny bathroom of the motel, carefully trimming his beard with a level of precision he usually reserved for his Impala’s engine. The air was thick with his familiar cologne, the rich, woodsy scent mixing with the stale air of the cramped bathroom. He traced his jawline with his fingertips, checking the results in the mirror.

Just then, Sam appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, a wide, amused grin spreading across his face.

Dean caught sight of Sam’s reflection in the mirror and groaned, already anticipating the ribbing he was about to get. He turned off the trimmer, setting it down.

“Well, I’d say you look a little too good for just ‘milkshakes’, don’t you think?”, Sam teased, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. His gaze dropped pointedly to Dean’s chest, which was notably smoother than usual.

Dean shot him a mock glare, though a slight blush crept up his neck. “Give it a rest, Sammy”, he muttered, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head a little too quickly, as if that might cover up both the grooming and his embarrassment. “Nothing wrong with looking decent once in a while”.

“Decent? Dean, you shaved your damn chest. Just admit it—you’re trying to impress her”.

Dean rolled his eyes, looking down at the red flannel in his hands with a hint of frustration. He didn’t have anything particularly nice to wear—nothing that screamed “date night” instead of “hunter”. Besides his usual gear, the only remotely formal outfit he owned was the standard FBI getup he kept stashed for cases. The thought crossed his mind that it would’ve been nice to have something a little different, something that didn’t reek of constant travel, hunts, and long hours on the road.

With a resigned sigh, he slipped into the flannel over his black T-shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. It wasn’t flashy, but at least it was him. He caught his reflection in the mirror, his expression softening, and he mumbled almost to himself, “Just don’t want her to think… bad of me, you know?”.

Sam’s smirk softened into a small, understanding smile. “Dean”, he murmured, his voice carrying that brotherly reassurance, “She’s known you since high school. You looked the same back then”.

Dean scoffed lightly, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well, I was hoping I’d improved a little since then”, he replied, though the tension in his voice had softened. “It’s been a while, Sammy”.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, she’s not interested in the clothes or the cologne, Dean. She’s interested in you”. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “And honestly, I think she’s already pretty into you, flannel and all”.

Dean ran a hand over his face, the trace of a blush still visible. “Guess it’s not like I’ve got a whole lot of options anyway”, he muttered, but Sam could hear the hint of nerves in his tone—the rare, genuine excitement that Dean hadn’t shown in a long time.

Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… be yourself”.

Dean groaned, rolling his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair, feeling like he was 18 all over again, back in those early days when he’d first met you. “Be myself”, he muttered, shaking his head. “That’s what I’m worried about”.

Sam chuckled, leaning back with a knowing look. “Yeah, but it worked back then, didn’t it? Flannel, leather jacket, that same cocky smile… trust me, Dean, it’s part of the package”.

Dean let out a reluctant laugh, but there was a hint of warmth there, too. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”.

“I try”, Sam replied, grinning. “Now, go on—don’t keep her waiting”.

Dean took a steadying breath, letting himself absorb the moment, that nervous energy thrumming beneath the surface. “Fine, fine”, he muttered, grabbing his jacket and tossing Sam a smirk as he headed toward the door. “Just don’t get too cozy in the motel room without me, alright?”.

Sam’s laugh echoed behind him as Dean stepped outside, each step bringing him closer to that familiar flutter of excitement and nerves he hadn’t felt in ages. He couldn’t believe it—he was actually nervous.

Dean drove through town toward your bookstore, his fingers tapping the wheel rhythmically as he tried to calm his nerves. It wasn’t like him to feel this jittery over a simple outing, but with you, it felt like so much more than just milkshakes.

When he finally pulled up outside your shop, you greeted him with a warm smile as you slid into the passenger seat. He could feel his heart pick up as you buckled in, your presence somehow amplifying his nerves and excitement all at once.

After a few minutes, you glanced at him, biting your lip as you hesitated before asking, “Hey, would you mind making a quick stop at my apartment? I just want to freshen up a bit”.

Dean glanced over, caught off guard by the question. His instinct was to say there was no need—he thought you looked perfect already, but he wasn’t quite sure how to say that without sounding too forward. Instead, he fumbled slightly, scratching the back of his neck. “Oh, uh, sure. I mean, you… you don’t have to or anything. You look great”. His words tumbled out in an awkward rush, and he added, “But yeah, if you want, of course. No problem”.

You smiled, clearly amused by his flustered response, and gave him the directions. The short drive to your apartment was filled with light conversation, but he could sense the undercurrent of anticipation between you both. As he parked outside, he cleared his throat, giving you a little grin as you got out. “I’ll be here”, he said, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Come on, Dean, you can wait upstairs”, you teased. “No more parents around”. You gave him a wink, which had him chuckling awkwardly, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

He cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance as he stepped out of the car to follow you up, but his mind was already wandering back to those sneaking-around days and you both had been a little less lucky…

-Flashback-

It was early morning, the sunlight streaming through the window brighter than either of you had planned for. Dean blinked himself awake, his arm draped over you, only to realize with a jolt that you’d both overslept. “Crap”, he muttered under his breath, easing himself out of bed as quietly as he could manage.

You were still drowsy, wrapped up in a blanket, a sleepy smile on your face as you watched him stumble around, pulling on his jeans and grabbing his boots. You knew the drill by now—Dean’s early exits were routine, sneaking out before your parents could suspect anything. But today, you both miscalculated.

Dean had just tied one boot and was reaching for the other when the door creaked open. He froze, his eyes wide, and you quickly pulled the blanket tighter around you, but it was too late.

Your mom stood there, taking in the scene with an expression that was both shocked and… slightly amused.

Your mom crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look, and then turned her gaze to you, arching a brow. “Good morning. I didn’t realize we had… company”.

You bit your lip, scrambling for something, anything, to say, but the words just wouldn’t come. She raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her watch with a slightly exasperated smile. “Shouldn’t you have been out of the window, say… two hours ago?”.

Your eyes went wide, and you glanced at Dean, whose face mirrored your expression of pure disbelief. Neither of you had expected this; for all the times he’d snuck in and out, you’d never imagined she’d known about it.

“Wait”, Dean stammered, looking between you and your mom, “you… you knew?”.

Your mom gave a half-sigh, half-smile, crossing her arms with a look that was almost amused. “A mother knows when her daughter’s sneaking someone in”. she said matter-of-factly. “I let it slide because… well, I had my suspicions that it was just you two being young and… figuring things out”. She glanced pointedly at Dean’s boots on the floor, then back at you. “But you’d better hope your dad never catches you, because he’s nowhere near as… understanding”.

Your cheeks burned, and you could barely look up at Dean, who was still frozen in place. But, as mortifying as it was, there was a warmth to her tone, an unspoken acknowledgment that somehow, she understood. It softened the edge of the embarrassment, though only slightly.

Dean managed a small smile, one that held a hint of sheepishness. “I, uh… appreciate the heads-up, ma’am”.

She gave him a look that was both stern and kind. “Just be smart”, she replied, giving you both one last glance before she turned to leave, muttering, “And next time… maybe set an alarm”.

The door closed, and the two of you sat in stunned silence for a moment before you both burst into nervous laughter, the shared shock and relief pulling you closer.

-End of the Flashback-

Standing in your apartment now, you looked back at Dean, the memory filling the space between you. Dean chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Guess we weren’t as sneaky as we thought”, he murmured, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart skip.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth rise in your cheeks again. “Yeah, guess we were a little obvious, huh?”, you said, shaking your head as the memory settled between you both. It felt strangely comforting, this shared history that only the two of you truly understood.

Dean’s grin softened, his gaze lingering on you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “Well, at least we’re a little older now”, he teased, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the doorframe. “No more sneaking out windows or dodging your mom”.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “Right. Now it’s just dodging Sam’s smart comments”, you joked, but there was an undeniable sweetness beneath your words.

Dean’s gaze drifted around your apartment, taking in the small details that made it feel so distinctly you—the cozy throw draped over the couch, the collection of books stacked in one corner, the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air. He paused in front of a framed family picture on a nearby shelf, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he looked at it.

“How’s your mom?”, he asked softly, his tone gentle, as if the question held a dozen other questions he hadn’t quite figured out how to ask yet.

You stepped beside him, following his gaze to the photo. It was a snapshot from a family picnic years ago, your mom’s arm around you, both of you laughing at some long-forgotten joke. A rush of warmth and nostalgia filled you, mingling with the lingering nervous excitement of having Dean here, in your space, sharing these memories with you.

“She’s good”, you replied, a fond smile slipping onto your face. “Still looking out for me, always asking if I’ve ‘met any nice boys’ lately”. You gave him a playful nudge, rolling your eyes at the memory. “Not sure what she’d say if she knew I was spending time with… well, you again”.

Dean chuckled, but his expression softened, a hint of warmth in his gaze as he looked at you. “Guess I didn’t leave the best impression back then, huh?”. There was a flicker of something like regret in his eyes, but he brushed it off quickly, his gaze settling back on you. “Even though I liked her… a lot”, he murmured, almost to himself, like he was processing the weight of his own memories. His gaze dropped for a moment, a flicker of nostalgia and maybe even a touch of regret lingering there.

You raised an eyebrow, looking up at him with an incredulous smile. “You’re kidding, right?”, you chuckled, nudging him lightly. “Dean, she loved you. At least every two months, she’s sitting with me and Dad at dinner, looking all thoughtful and sighing, ‘I bet you and Dean would’ve given me a grandchild by now’”.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth dropping open slightly before he let out a surprised laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly caught off guard. “Seriously? She said that?”. He grinned, a little self-conscious, but you could see the hint of pride in his expression, like he hadn’t expected to have left that kind of impression on her.

“Every time”, you affirmed, laughing as you thought back to the countless times your mom had brought him up. “It’s like, no matter how much time passes, she just can’t let go of the idea that you and I were supposed to… I don’t know, end up together or something”.

You looked up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “You won her over on Halloween”, you murmured, remembering that night vividly.

-Flashback-

Halloween night had settled in with the chill of autumn, pumpkins lit on doorsteps and a hint of wood smoke in the air. Your dad was out of town, as he often was, leaving just you and your mom to keep up the Halloween traditions. You’d promised her a cozy movie night, just the two of you with popcorn, cookies, and your favorite horror flicks.

When Dean asked if you’d wanted to see a movie with him, the thought of slipping away for a bit had been tempting. But you hesitated, mumbling, “I promised my mom I’d stay in tonight. She’s got this whole thing planned—snacks, homemade cookies. I just… I don’t want to leave her alone, you know?”.

Dean’s face softened in understanding, a warmth in his tone that took you by surprise. “Yeah, I get it”, he said, nodding as if he genuinely respected that. He’d never quite been used to this kind of affection or tradition, but he could see how much it meant to you.

You bit your lip, feeling a bit shy as you added, “And… Actually… She sort of asked if you were planning on sneaking in again tonight or… if you’d want to come by a little earlier. Through the front door this time”. You glanced up at him, nerves fluttering in your stomach. “She said she wouldn’t mind getting to know you… you know, officially”.

Dean blinked, taken aback for a moment, a faint blush creeping up his neck. But then a small smile broke through, soft and genuine. “Yeah?”, he murmured, surprised but clearly pleased. “Well, I could do that. I mean… if you’re sure she’s okay with it?”.

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “She’s more than okay with it. She was… well, I think she’s actually a little curious about the guy I keep sneaking around with”.

Dean chuckled, the sound warm and a bit bashful. “Alright, then. I guess I’ll bring my best manners”. There was a glimmer of humor in his eyes, but you could tell that underneath it, he was touched by the invitation.

A couple of hours later, Dean stood on your front porch, fidgeting slightly as he smoothed down his jacket, looking more nervous than ever. When you opened the door, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him standing there, his usual bravado softened into something more real, more earnest.

As you led him into the cozy warmth of your home, the aroma of freshly baked cookies greeted him. Your mom appeared in the kitchen doorway, a warm smile lighting up her face as she wiped her hands on a towel. “So, Dean was it, right?”, she said, her tone welcoming but curious. She extended her hand, and he shook it, his smile both charming and a little shy.

“Yes, ma’am”, he replied, his voice respectful, clearly wanting to make a good impression.

Your mom chuckled softly as she looked him over, her eyes bright with curiosity and a hint of approval. “ma'am? Uhh, I like him”, she mused aloud, turning to you with a playful smile before looking back at Dean. “I like you, Dean! You’ve got good manners”. She winked, clearly enjoying herself, making Dean shift a bit under the unexpected praise, but his grin didn’t falter.

“Thank you, ma’am”, Dean replied, his voice genuinely grateful.

Your mom led you both toward the kitchen, where the smell of warm cider filled the air. She grabbed three mugs, filling them with the steaming drink before setting them on the table. “I made this batch a little special”, she said with a conspiratorial grin. “Added a touch of something stronger—don’t worry, Dean, in Europe you’re well within the drinking age”, she winked. “Helps with the Halloween chill”.

Dean chuckled, his eyes lighting up as he took the warm mug from her hands. “Well, can’t say no to that”, he said, looking at you with a playful smirk before taking a sip. The taste was warm, spiced, and a little sharper than he expected, but he took it in stride, enjoying the drink and the friendly welcome.

The three of you settled around the kitchen table, and your mom wasted no time in asking Dean questions about his life, his family, and his interests. She listened with genuine interest, her gaze flicking between you and Dean with a subtle smile. You could tell she was pleased, maybe even relieved, to see the two of you together like this, as if her instincts about him had been right all along.

As the evening went on, Dean’s natural charm and respectful demeanor had your mom fully captivated. Even though he had to be careful about what he shared, steering away from the supernatural realities of his life, he answered her questions with an easy politeness that felt genuine. He spoke about his love of cars, a few of his favorite bands, and, without meaning to, started talking about you.

Every time he mentioned your name, there was a softness in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed by your mom. He described the way you’d sneak out for late-night talks, how you could make him laugh no matter what was going on, and his voice took on a rare tenderness when he looked your way. It was clear he was speaking from a place of true admiration and respect, and he had your mom completely wrapped around his finger, though he didn’t seem aware of it.

Your mom beamed, clearly enjoying every bit of his stories. “Well”, she said with a warm smile, looking between you and Dean, “it sounds like you two have been getting along just fine. And you know, Dean, I’m glad she has a friend like you around. She’s always been independent, but it’s good to know there’s someone watching out for her”.

Dean glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment, as if he was still taking in the fact that he was here, being welcomed like this. “She’s something special”, he said, almost to himself, his voice carrying a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

Your mom smiled, nodding. “I can see that”, she replied, looking at you with a proud, knowing expression before shifting her gaze back to Dean. “And you’re welcome here anytime, Dean”.

-End of the Flashback-

Dean took a deep breath, grounding himself back in the present as the warm memory faded, leaving behind a bittersweet ache. He looked around your apartment, taking in the familiar comfort of your space, and he felt that same warmth from years ago, the kind that made him feel at home in a way he rarely did.

You caught him staring at the family photo again, a soft smile pulling at your lips as you noticed the look of nostalgia in his eyes. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Having these memories”.

Dean nodded, his gaze meeting yours, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah”, he murmured. “It is”.

The silence between you felt heavy but comforting, filled with words left unsaid and memories that spoke for themselves. There was something in Dean’s eyes that made you feel like he was seeing you as that teenager all over again—the girl he’d climbed through windows for.

“Didn’t think of them for a while tho”, Dean mumbled, his gaze still fixed on the family photo, though his mind was miles away. His voice held a quiet vulnerability, as if he were opening a door he’d kept closed for years, trying to keep those memories and all they meant at arm’s length.

You moved a little closer, your presence grounding him as he stood there, shoulders slightly slouched, a small, soft smile pulling at his lips despite himself. “It’s strange, but… it feels like it hasn’t been that long since—well, since all of this”.

You felt the weight of his words, sensing that he wasn’t just talking about your apartment or even the past itself but something deeper, something that still connected the two of you. There was a warmth in his eyes, a lingering reminder of that young man he’d been, and the version of yourself that had found something so real in him, even when everything else was uncertain.

“Maybe some things are worth remembering”, you said softly, meeting his gaze and letting the words hang in the air.

Dean nodded, his eyes holding yours, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah”. he replied, his voice barely a whisper, filled with a sincerity that made your heart flutter. “Some things definitely are”.

The quiet, unspoken understanding between you felt like a fragile bridge, connecting who you were then with who you were now.

Before the moment could deepen, you took a small step back, feeling the intensity of the conversation settle over you like a warm but slightly overwhelming blanket. “I’m just… gonna head to the bathroom real quick”, you murmured, offering a shy smile. “Make yourself at home”.

Dean gave you a quick nod, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Will do”, he replied, watching as you slipped away. He took a deep breath, looking around your apartment once more with a sense of reverence, noticing all the small details that made it so distinctly yours.

As you closed the bathroom door, you leaned against it for a moment, catching your breath. The quiet excitement of having him here, of feeling the past rush back with such clarity, filled you with a thrill that was both comforting and new. You could still feel the warmth of his gaze, the sense that no matter how many years had passed, there was still something alive between you, something that neither time nor distance had managed to erase.

Meanwhile, Dean took in the space around him, glancing at your bookshelf, running his fingers along the spines of well-loved novels, and finding little reminders of who you’d grown into. He smiled to himself, feeling at home in a way he hadn’t in a long time, as if this space held all the things that had been missing from his life on the road.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 5

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @globetrotter28

#deanwinchester #jesen ackles #dean and sam #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #spn cast #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural

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xyurishux · 6 months ago

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CHAPTER 1 - AS A WHOLE, TOGETHER

Word Count: ~1.7k

Tags: GN!reader, Mentions of family disputes

Summary: You begin to tell Sebastian how deep UrbanShades rabbit hole truly goes, starting with yourself.

Pardon any writing errors, they may happen!

“ oh sweetie, you’re not ugly, society is,”

“So,

When I was younger, life was as normal as can be. I was in mediocre family, it was me, my mom and my dad. I’d only see my mom in the morning, and when I was back from school my dad would be home for dinner. It wasn’t until way later I learned about his job, but that isn’t relevant right now. My dad was a mystery to me, he’s my dad but I didn’t know much to anything about him. I saw him everyday when I got home but it’s was for such a small period of time, did it even count?

Life was so mundane and repetitive. Go to school, pass tests, summer break then restart it all over again. Life was boring but it wasn’t difficult.

I would do anything to be back there…” You paused looking out into the ocean, it was dark you could mistake it for the above, only simply at night. You breathe out from your nose continuing on with your story.

“Anyways, it was back in September of 2009 when my father got a promotion. Seeing his face 4 to 5 hours per day dwindled down to seeing him once every two weeks or so, usually on Sundays. He became an enigma.

“You see, something I couldn’t see at the time was that as I grew older, his need to be in my life lowered, and sadly, that same fate fell too with my mother by default.

His job already took a toll on their relationship. Only spending 4 to 5 hours with your partner every day over the span of five years isn’t so great.

My mother would see him as much as I did and now, he just wasn’t there. The signs of a falling relationship presented themselves beforehand, but now it was obvious to anyone that the only thing keeping them together was me. At least, for my mom that was the case.

“The house was more silent than it ever was empty…”

You looked to the side with your eyes to see Sebastians full attention on you, perhaps it was the story? Or maybe he didn’t have anything better to do or it might have been the way your voice spoke with full sincerity and no sarcasm. It was like someone else took control but it was undoubtedly you and he was fully enthralled.

Your eyes met and you looked back down at the cold tile as you carried on.

“Ether way, it was in November of that same year where things would shift. My mom would realize the steady money flowing in and at growing amounts. Now you have to understand that my mother isn’t of the suspicious type nor is she a person who comes up with wild conclusions. She was (and still is, I hope) a reasonable and sensible woman. She knew that this wasn’t a simple ‘promotion’, but to know where all this money came from, well…she didn’t have the slightest clue. She didn’t know and she would never know. Well, truly know…

“The first snow started to fall as December began and Winter break freed me from my studying. Shockingly, dad came home for the holidays and New Years. Funny anecdote, I remember getting my first iPhone as a gift from him that year. It was an iPhone 3GS, God the memories…my mother was not pleased in slightest.” You laughed silent tilting your head to the side as your reminisced, it was good and loyal phone…

“Continuing on, after Christmas as a family and with the family the next day, my parents had the only disagreement I’ve ever witnessed (only a disagreement, it wasn’t enough to count as a fight).

I think it was about 2 am and the only light that was on was the one above the kitchen table. My dad was sitting facing my mother who standing up, the last of the family who came over for the party had finally left. Chip bowls and wine glasses were still scattered on the coffee table, only barely visible by the outside Christmas lights. I watched as my mom tapped her nails against the wooden chair she was partly leaning on as she took a deep breath. I could tell she was tired, exhausted even but I could also tell she had something bugging her and she needed to let it out. I watched them from the darkness that the staircase provided, I was undetectable. I listened to them talk, leaning my upper body to the wooden railing trying not to miss a single word. I don’t remember much; it was about the money at first but it was nothing compared to what my mother said next.”

“Samantha, look- “

“I’m breaking up with you”

“My mother broke up with my father. I sat upon the steps dumbfounded, I didn’t expect that from their conversation but even then, I didn’t know what to expect. The last of the conversation consisted of my father staying silent and staring at the table as my mom talked important matters to him. She told him that she would stay for the New Years and then move in with a friend in an apartment she found. After that she finished the glass of wine my dad poured for her at the start and left the kitchen when he didn’t have anything to add.

I’m pretty sure that night was the only time I saw my dad cry. He was still in love with her, never ever once thinking of ending their relationship. Never ever once thinking of loving another woman.

Most children would walk down the stairs they sat on and go comfort their weeping father or at least ask if he was okay. But our relationship was so estranged to the point where I felt no reason to go down and comfort him. He simply was just my father, nothing else nothing more.

I watched him cry silently with his head in his hand as I sat on the steps with my legs close to my chest. I sat there for a few more minutes. I don’t know why I sat there watching for so long. Maybe I was intrigued with the sight, it was something new. A man I’ve know all my life was a mystery to me and now the last sight I might ever see of him is him crying his heart out. But soon enough I got tired, I walked back up to my bedroom and fell asleep to noise of the on going shower my mom was taking downstairs.

The next morning felt cold and unbalanced. The floor was cold to the touch and it was actually closer to noon then morning. The hall was silent as I walked down it and saw at the end of it that my mom was packing a suitcase and a large duffle bag. They were both placed on the bed with an equal amount of folded and unfolded clothes thrown around the two. It was enough to be unable to see the white and blue floral comforter underneath (or I remember it to be enough). I walked into the room and as if I didn’t witness the scene at the kitchen table last night I asked, “Are we going somewhere?”

She was so concentrated with her packing that she jumped startled when she heard my voice. With her hand over her heart, she turned to me with a forced smile (I knew that it was) and spoke words that I will never forget.”

“What were they?” Sebastian asked quietly, his full upper body now laying against the desk where you two sorted files on together almost an hour ago.

You smiled, “Well,

“Sweetheart! You scared me there,” She said, her smile faltering, “No, mommy is going somewhere, alone, but not forever. You’ll have to stay with dad for awhile.” She turned her head away as she folded a few pants and placed them into her suitcase. Then she squatted, and I had to look down to see her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and her lashes wet. I felt her hands on my upper arms as she continued to talk, “Mommy, mommy needs to go find herself for a bit, okay? Not for long but mommy needs this…I love you, eternally and always”

She left the same day with kiss on the forehead, her phone number seared into my mind and a “Be good while I’m gone, I’m a single phone call away”

And then I was there, at my door step, cold and watching as my mom entered her friend’s car with one last kiss blown to me. I caught it and placed it onto my cheek as she drove off. Now it was me and my estranged father and a lot of complex emotions I didn’t know how to decipher or begin to understand at the age of ten.”

You finished, pausing to take a breath for a second while also stretching your aching muscles.

“And then what? What does this have to do with us? With me?” Sebastian asked harshly as he raised himself from the desk.

“Give me a second, I need water and a snack, I’m a bit peckish,” you joked, smirking to him, before continuing, “Ether way, we’re barely getting into the meat of the story. I was just explaining how I got stuck with my father. Now will be getting into what he was doing

behind closed doors…”

And we start rolling, ~

@splatting-stampede

#pressure roblox #roblox pressure #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace roblox #roblox sebastian solace #projecteternity

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tkdb-hell · 2 months ago

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#16 - One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

You flopped onto the elegant velvet couch in the Frostheim common room, arms crossed tightly as you glared at the floor. The sharp sting of Jin Kamurai’s earlier words still lingered in your mind, his scathing tone echoing like a slap you hadn’t prepared for.

Tohma looked up from the table where he was arranging the Frostheim case schedules, his pale blue eyes briefly flicking over you before he returned to his work. “You look like someone stole your dessert. What’s wrong?”

You huffed, sitting up and crossing your legs. “Jin. He’s what’s wrong.”

Tohma arched a brow, tapping his pen against the desk. “What did he say this time?”

“He said I was ‘overstepping for someone so new.’ That I should ‘know my place’ before offering opinions on anomalies like I’m an expert,” you recited bitterly, your hands gripping the edges of the couch.

Tohma sighed, setting the pen down and giving you his full attention. “That does sound like Jin,” he said matter-of-factly.

“That’s it?” you snapped, your glare turning on him now. “No defense, no sympathy, no ‘he’s wrong and you’re brilliant’? Just that sounds like Jin?”

Tohma shrugged lightly, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve met him. He’s always like that—especially when he feels like someone’s encroaching on his space. Don’t take it personally.”

Your lips pressed into a tight line, and your arms crossed over your chest again. “Don’t take it personally?” you muttered, voice tinged with sarcasm. “Easy for you to say. You’re his vice-captain, not his verbal punching bag.”

Tohma gave you a long, measured look. “You’re pouting,” he noted, his tone laced with amusement.

“I am not,” you shot back, though the way you turned your head sharply away from him only made it more obvious.

He chuckled softly, rising from his chair and walking over to you. “You definitely are,” he teased, sitting beside you on the couch.

“I am not pouting,” you insisted, though your lips had pressed into an unmistakable pout.

Tohma tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned closer. “You are. And it’s kind of cute.”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “I don’t need you patronizing me too, Tohma.”

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop… but only if you stop pouting.”

Your lips pressed tighter together in defiance, your eyes narrowing.

Tohma sighed again, this time with exaggerated weariness. “Guess I’ll have to do something about it, then.”

Before you could ask what he meant, his hand cupped your cheek gently, and he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that caught you completely off guard. It wasn’t rushed or fiery—just warm, tender, and full of reassurance.

When he pulled back, his hand still resting against your cheek, his blue eyes met yours with a small, amused smile. “There. No more pout.”

Your cheeks burned, and you touched your lips with a dazed expression. “You—you can’t just–!”

“Why not?” he asked, his smirk widening. “It worked, didn’t it?”

You wanted to argue, but your lips betrayed you by curling into a reluctant smile. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied expression. “If Jin gives you trouble again, just come to me. I’ll kiss it away every time.”

Your blush deepened, but the thought of Jin’s scathing words faded into insignificance. Somehow, Tohma always knew exactly how to make you feel better—even if his methods left your heart racing.

#tokyo debunker #tkdb #tohma ishibashi #asks

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jaidens · 1 year ago

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Can you do a Steve randle fic where the reader's dad won't let her keep dating him so they have to keep it a secret but they get found out anyway and the fic is really angsty but it ends fluffy between Steve and y/n

i would marry you in secret

pairing [s] : steve randle x fem!reader

warnings [s] mentions of : controlling parents, hatred against greasers, violence with the plot of “The Outsiders��

a/n [s] : hey… hi everyone

In Tulsa, there was an obvious separation between the Greasers and the Socs. It was hard enough living in an environment with such prejudice, but when you fell head over heels for one of the Greasers; it was even worse. Your father was a wealthy businessman man, who had already set up your life. You would inherit the money which would go to your husband, who was already decided to be one of his partners son; who was the head of the football team.

You couldn’t have cared less about his son’s ignorance, or the way he creepily sneaked up on you in the hallways. His disgusting aftershave that made you sick, and the switchblade that he kept in the back of his expensive pant pockets. Your secret life hadn’t been known by many. How you hung around the east side more than your own. Steve Randle had been the reason why you became such a ‘rebel’ by your parents. He had treated you better than anybody, even if it began on a stigma between the two of you. You were walking through the eastside, your purse pulled to the front of your body.

It wasn’t that you were scared of walking through, it was the cold weather that made you regret wearing the dress without a pair of warmer stockings. The wispy October air sent a shiver down your spine, and the trees blew leaves onto the ground. You ran your hands over your arms, hugging into yourself.

When you were relaxed, a voice had suddenly appeared behind you.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” The voice spoke, a small twang intertwined. “What’cha doing on this part of town?” You were finally given a look at the man. A thick denim jacket, smears of grease and oil splattered on his blue uniform. His hair was perfectly swooped, and a warm smile grazed his lips.

“I don’t want any trouble. I’m just walking home.” Embarrassingly, a chitter hit your voice when you were talking. The man waved his hands in the air. “No trouble here. Do you want my jacket, you seem cold.” You weren’t able to even disagree, when his jacket was wrapped around your shoulders.

“I’m Steve. Steve Randle.” Steve smiled at you, and put his hand out to be shaken. You shook it with a matching smile on his face. He happened to walk you home, and only show you the kindness of a southern gentleman. Steve explained about his job, his family, his brothers, and told you many facts about his favorite type of car.

You undeniably began to swoon over the man. You chose to walk the wrong route home, just in case Steve showed up to walk you home. One of the days, it had happened. He was waiting for you, and small flower that had been plucked from one of the local florist stands. You took it, and Steve put it in the pocket of your handbag.

You had traded your number for the flower, and now you had been anxiously awaiting his call in the depths of your room. You shivered underneath your blankets whenever the phone rattled on your wall, and you jumped up to answer it. “Hello!” You had blurted quite loudly.

“Were you waiting for my call, doll? Can I come over? It has been awhile since you visited me.” Steve said, clicking his tongue as he finished to signify his sarcasm laced words. “Sure.. but be quiet. My parents are on a date, but I still have neighbors." You giggle once the phone is hung up against the wall.

You looked in your vanity mirror, giving yourself a quick smile and lying down back in bed. Ten minutes later, you can hear the sound of knocks against your bedroom window. You open your curtains and find Steve with a big smile crowding his face. You smile once the window is open and he attaches a small peck to the apple of your cheek. “Well hello to you too!”

Steve crawls through the window and falls against your bed. His usual work uniform was replaced with a pair of dark blue jeans, and a relaxed white tee. You couldn’t lie to his face, but he was the most handsome man you had seen in a while. He gives you a dumb smile, his pearly whites shining at you. Steve made you giddy, and made you want to draw hearts all over his face.

“I missed you.” You admit quietly. Steve’s hand goes to the heart of your face and he caresses the skin gently. His eyes capture yours, and he nods. There's bruises that litter his face, and on his nose is a dark purple and green bruise. “What happened here, love?" The name makes Steve perk up, but then sink down.

“Some Socs on our side of town were messing with me when I was doing stuff.” Steve explains, a sense of anger that pulls through his words. You give him a small frown, and put a small kiss against the tip of his nose. “It was that guy your Dad wants you to marry.” Steve’s added words makes your heart race with added anger. David had been one of the worst men you had met, and he would walk the wrong way home just to mess with the Greasers.

“I hate him.” You groaned, slapping the back of your hand across your forehead and falling against your pillows. Steve followed, putting his head against your secondary pillow. He pulled you close, his hands wrapping around your back. You giggled as he kissed you, your hand falling against his chest. In the quietly moment, you had fallen asleep against his warmth. The sound of his heart beating, and the idea that he was a portable heater caused you to doze off into the corner of his shoulder and neck.

In what seemed to be a perfect moment, a sudden rush of yelling at the sound of your father screaming at Steve. His face was more angry than anything you had seen. He had picked Steve up by the shoulder and was yelling at him to leave. “Dad! What are you doing!?” You frantically screamed, but your mother’s crabby hands had pulled you away from attacking your father’s face.

Steve caught your eye as he solemnly left, embarrassed more than anything. You, on the other hand, had your blood boiling as you huffed and yelled at your dad. However, your father would have always been right.

“Dad, I love him and he loves me! What’s so hard about that?” Your father put his hand on the table, his finger in your face, and broke the thin glass. “It is because he is a dirty Greaser! He’s trouble!” In a fit of rage, you grabbed your sweater and left the house with a slam of the door. You wipe away the tears that drip, with only two things in your mind: Steve Randle and the east side.

Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to leave with the freezing air breaking through your sweater. You walk quicker once you hear some distant yelling and the recognizable neighborhood that lived The Curtis’ home. It was where Steve would go during hard times, and it also held where his best friend was. You hadn’t ever been in the house, you had only seen him walking there or saying bye to his friends that disappeared in the small home.

You walk closer to the home, whose porch light was on and you could hear distant shouts of unhappy couples. You run up to the door, knocking against it and attempting to not freeze in the time it takes to open the door. A taller, older man opens the door. A dirty white t-shirt and baggy jeans. “Who is it!?” A shout from further away, knocks you back into reality. “Is Steve here?” The man nods, and yells for Steve to come out to the front door.

Steve walks in, hands in his pockets. You give him a small smile, and he frowns at you. “You shouldn’t be here.” He whispers once he comes into contact with your hand. “I know. But, I couldn’t leave you.” Steve pulls you forward before he kisses you while holding onto you tightly.

“Your daddy is gonna kill me.” Steve says once he pulls you back in for another round of shared kisses.

Maybe he would, but you’d rather die than be separated from Steve.

#steve randle x y/n #steve randle the outsiders #steve randle x reader #steve randle x female reader #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfic #the outsiders steve

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iwanthermidnightz · 1 year ago

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To me, these articles responding to that opinion piece aren’t so much concerned with contributing to the conversation, but with jumping on a topic for clicks that has been blown out of proportion because it made some Swifties uncomfortable. Meanwhile, the actual subject the piece is about has been unbothered by it and taken a woman on her arm to the Golden Globes.

And before anyone tries to counter—yes. We all know why Travis wasn’t there. Yet she has other male friends and even Austin she could have taken with her. Or gone alone.

I think the real conversation should be why it’s ok to “obsess and speculate” over Taylor’s sexuality when it’s assumed to be heterosexual, but an issue to “obsess and speculate” over her sexuality when posited that she could be queer or that her lyrics have queer undertones (if that’s the right wording).

People speculated for SIX YEARS that she was married to Joe Alwyn and were very much recently speculating that Travis was proposing over Christmas. Someone on Deuxmoi speculated she had a miscarriage, which (in addition to the pushed marriage ceremony narrative) pissed Tree off and prompted a direct response. But hey, those are completely fine, because those are built around a heterosexual construct. (*sarcasm*)

Yet, when an article brings up queerness and Taylor Swift in the same sentence, based on words written a spoken and actions conducted by Taylor herself (who as we know, prides herself on writing her own lyrics), it’s suddenly “harmful speculation” or a “delusional obsession” by a group of people projecting their “fantasies” and sexualities on a woman who has said she is straight.

Yeah, all while placing herself smack dab in the middle of the (LGBT) community in YNTCD….when she could have been Ryan Reynolds in her own video.

But I digress.

I think what’s really harmful is when people like Misha Collins (for example) tweet at Taylor about the piece saying his DM’s are open if she wants to talk because “he’s been there” (when idk, she could just talk to Shawn Mendes, who her “associates” threw in traffic while voicing their dismay).

After all, a few years ago at an event, Misha himself said:

"By a show of force, how many of you would consider yourself introverts? How many extroverts? And how many bisexuals?" Then said “I’m all three”.

He later “apologized” calling it “clumsiness of his language”. Saying his intent “was to wave off actually discussing my sexuality”, but he “badly fumbled that” and understood that it was seen as him coming out as bisexual.

So….here we are. Bisexuality (in the queerness family tree and used among the words “extrovert” and “introvert”) is being posed as “clumsiness of language”.

It’s just interesting to me how people use “obsession” and “speculation” in context of sexuality.

I very much agree. Thank you for putting this into words.

The most concerning part (and this has been the case for years and years) is how comfortable people (usually straight) are with accusing queer people of a whole slew of problematic accusations rooted in their ignorance and unwillingness to understand queer experience, culture and history, and their obvious intent of trying to hurt and gaslight an already vulnerable community with the most malicious rhetoric. It tells me the views/experiences of the lgbtqia+ community are not valued. At least not as much as heteronormative standards.

Like the guardian article mentioned yesterday,

“the entertainment industry is perfectly fine with its biggest stars flirting with LGBTQ+ imagery. It’s fine with its biggest stars draping themselves in rainbow flags and making statements about allyship. Dare to suggest that those stars might actually be gay, though, and you’ll see quite a lot of old-fashioned homophobia coming out.”

Moral is, it’s clear society is ok with using queer culture when it’s beneficial, and at the same time using it as a scapegoat when they feel threatened by it.

It’s the double standards and hypocrisy for me. It’s exhausting.

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mortemoppetere · 7 months ago

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TIMING: current LOCATION: a bar in wicked's rest PARTIES: @rn-zane & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: emilio recruits zane to his plan to take down the good neighbors. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

He’d been told — in no uncertain terms, and by more than one person — that he needed to learn when to ask someone for help. It wasn’t something he particularly liked doing, and it always made him feel a little too much like a failure, like he wasn’t strong enough to handle things on his own. Most of the time, he still avoided it until it was just a little too late. But he was getting better. He was trying to get better. For Teddy, for Wynne, for Nora, for Xó and Jade and all the people who gave a shit whether or not he lived or died. And maybe a little for himself, too.

Still… he felt he needed to be careful who he turned to, in this case. Nora and Wynne were utterly out of the question. He wouldn’t put either of them into danger, even if they’d both be more than willing to help. He wasn’t sure Jade would have much interest in helping him rescue a zombie, given her still-complicated feelings on the undead. Teddy would probably get a little too invested, and Emilio wanted to keep them out of the line of fire as best he could. There were still some people he could ask — people he knew would say yes.

People like Zane, for example.

He’d been doing a lot better with the training. Emilio would never admit it, but there was some pride in how much the vampire kept him on his toes during their practice fights these days. The fact that he was undead meant that he was one of Emilio’s more durable friends, too. (Or acquaintances. If asked, Emilio would say acquaintances.) The thing was, Emilio didn’t know how much buttering up he’d need. Zane was a good guy, but not one who seemed to enjoy walking into a fight. It might take some convincing.

So, he invited him to a bar. He bought him a few beers. He did his version of schmoozing. He was bad at it, but there was a definite effort being made. It was probably a noticeable one, too.

—

Zane had been skeptical from the moment Emilio had reached out. Something was definitely up, obvious right from the moment the slayer actually initiated a meet up without making it sound like he was being forced to do so. After all this time, it had gotten easier to read between the lines when it came to Emilio, how a sarcastic insult was actually anything but and the way his actions were usually way more reliable than his words. Both were out of whack this evening.

Now, Emilio was bringing over the third beer of the evening for Zane, who had politely finished the other two - it had felt rude to not drink it since drink buying seemed to literally be the slayer’s love language. Friendship language? Either way, Zane was usually the one mildly bullied into cashing out at the bar, ironically since he never bought anything alcoholic for himself, so this shuffle up of roles was already weird enough. The niceties though, not even vaguely laced with sarcasm or bundled up in the form of an insult? Too weird.

“Okay, out with it,” Zane confronted him the second the beer hit the table, pushing the bottle designated for him back towards Emilio. Two disgusting drinks was his quota. “You’re being really weird so what’s up? Are you dying or something? Is this a pity thing because of my dad? Honestly, if you make one more attempt at a compliment, I’ll find someone to perform an exorcism on you.”

—

Zane was more observant than Emilio tended to give him credit for. He still probably wouldn’t make much of a detective — he was much better suited as a nurse — but he knew how to spot the difference in someone’s behavior. Emilio wasn’t a subtle man, was built to be explosive and brash and loud even if he wasn’t built to be any of those things for his own benefit, but his type of ‘not subtle’ still wasn’t easy for the average person to read. He thought the only person alive who might have been able to unpack what this kind of behavior from Emilio might mean was Rhett, then he amended that thought with a twist in his stomach at the realization that his brother no longer knew him as well as he once had. No one alive was fluent enough in Emilio Cortez to unpack this without help translating.

But Zane came pretty close.

Emilio pulled a face, shoving the beer towards Zane again with a quiet grumble. He’d hoped to get Zane a lot drunker before they got to this point but, in honesty, he didn’t even know how much alcohol it would take to get a dead man buzzed. Grabbing his own drink — his usual cheap whiskey — he downed it with a sigh.

“Probably not dying any faster than I was last week,” he replied. “And I don’t do pity. You should know that.” Pity, as far as he was concerned, was an insult. And not the kind of insult he usually delivered to Zane. “I don’t need an exorcism, either. I…” He trailed off, grimacing as if saying the words was physically painful. “I need a favor.”

—

Zane raised a knowing eyebrow as Emilio faltered, face screwing up in annoyance at his plans - whatever they even were - being thwarted. For a moment, he had toyed with the possibility of the slayer actually just wanting to be nice but it just didn’t make sense. Weird compliments and drink buying wasn’t his style of nice. Whether Emilio would admit to them being proper acts of kindness or not, teaching Zane to fight or punching his dad, those were the things he did to prove he cared. Hence, tonight being completely and totally off.

Instead of pushing the beer back again, knowing he’d probably lose in a battle of stubbornness, Zane grabbed the bottle but made no move to actually drink from it. Waiting patiently for Emilio to work up the nerve to actually reply with something other than annoyed noises, slight worry growing in the pit of his stomach. He’d mostly been joking with the proposed reasons for the slayer’s strange behavior but for a moment, wondered if it was true. If there really was something horrible looming on the horizon. It was a relief when Emilio finally quelled that worry, helping loosen the tension in Zane’s shoulders some.

It was hard, more so than he could have imagined, not to laugh. Zane knew that it would be among the worst possible reactions to the request but honestly, all this to ask a favor? If he was supposed to know that Emilio didn’t do pity, then it felt just as obvious that Zane didn’t need much, if any, convincing to offer his help. “That’s all? I don’t mind the hang out and honestly, it was fun watching you try to not insult me for the past hour but…” His tone softened, joking tint vanishing as he continued. “You know you could have just asked, right? Because whatever it is, of course I’ll help.”

Was that true? ‘Whatever’ was a very broad statement and Zane both knew and had seen Emilio do some rather unseemly things but… yeah, it was true. Maybe because he hoped the slayer knew him well enough at this point to not ask for a favor involving straight up death or maybe just because he felt honored to even be asked to help. To be allowed to repay all the things Emilio had done for him so far.

—

It was harder than it should have been. Most things were, for Emilio. Javier told him once, with a laugh and an arm tossed carelessly around his shoulder, that he must have just enjoyed making things more difficult for himself. And Emilio had rolled his eyes, had shrugged out from under that embrace, had refused to pay his tab and played it off as a silly thing, but he’d wondered if there was some truth to it. Wasn’t there some strange comfort in struggling? When things were easy, the paranoia crept in. When things were simple, he found himself wondering whether or not he was walking into a trap, found his palms itching and his neck sweating. Adversity was familiar. He’d spent all his life struggling against one thing or another, fought tooth and nail just for the right to exist in a family that might have been better off without him and knew as much.

So, he made things harder. He refused to ask for help until it became impossible not to, he dragged his heels in the dirt even when there was no reason to do so. He fought and thrashed against hands meant to help him, snapped his teeth and reared his head against anyone who tried to make his life even a little easier. It was supposed to be hard. He understood it when it was hard. Kindness was a great, unknown entity, and Emilio had never done well with those.

But his friends had been through a lot recently. They had all been struggling. And if Emilio went out on his own, if he got himself killed because he was too goddamn stubborn to ask for help, wouldn’t they ache with it? Wouldn’t they mourn and grieve and blame themselves? He didn’t give much of a shit about his own life, but he cared about them. He cared about not piling on when they were all already going through a lot. So he bought Zane a drink and he buttered him up and he asked for a favor.

And it turned out, he’d made that harder than it needed to be, too.

Zane didn’t even ask to hear what it was first. He offered to help like it was easy, like it was nothing. And Emilio felt… undeserving. Like he was reaping without sowing, like he was stealing something that belonged to someone else. He’d done nothing to earn this kind of loyalty, had he? He’d made Zane’s life pretty goddamn difficult the entire time he’d known him, and Zane was ready to help with anything Emilio needed, anyway. His chest felt tight in a different way than it usually did; he wasn’t sure what to call it.

“It’s… for a case,” he said uncertainly. “I found something. Something — big, maybe. Some kind of…” He searched for the word, frustration flashing briefly across his face when he couldn’t find it. “People, a group of them, who are… taking people. Uh, nonhuman people. Locking them away. My client, she’s got a friend in there, but I want…” He trailed off, the word want feeling strange on his tongue. He didn’t usually let himself do much of that. Still, he steeled himself and continued. “I want to get them all out. And I think if I do it alone, I’ll probably end up dead, and a lot of people will be pissed at me for it, so…” He trailed off, letting it hang. After a moment, he added, “You can say no. I can ask someone else.” He wouldn’t. If Zane said no, Emilio would go at it alone. But Zane didn’t need to know that.

—

There was still some hesitation, as if Emilio himself was still coming to terms with the fact that he was actually asking for help. Where Zane usually had a bit of trouble letting silence just be in a conversation, he did know the importance of it. Of letting thoughts form or information get processed - after witnessing a doctor barrel through a delivery of bad news, never allowing just a moment of silence to pass, he’d sworn to take notice of the importance of silence. So he just leaned in and waited, then listened.

The case sounded big, with high stakes. Someone was kidnapping nonhumans and even though Emilio mentioned them being locked away, Zane couldn’t help but wonder if this client’s friend was still alive. Couldn’t help but wonder if that was maybe better than the alternative, a dark basement where hungry victims curled up, confused and afraid and looking at him with blame and desperation in their eyes… “Okay,” he responded, mostly to break the cycle of eerie memories, processing the information. “Definitely right on people not wanting you to run into certain death.” Including Zane.

Emilio was backtracking, or trying to. He had to know that there was no going back now, not after admitting that this case would get him killed without help. “I already said I would help. In any way I can. Not exactly a detective or much of a fighter but… if you think I can be useful, I’m in.” It scared him, of course it did. Going into a dangerous situation wasn’t even really the unnerving part, more so the thought of not being able to help. To be there as some sort of backup and fail. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

–

“It’s not certain death,” Emilio argued, though he wasn’t really sure why. The idea of Zane helping only because he wanted to prevent Emilio from meeting an ‘untimely’ (was it really untimely if you’d been ready to die all your life?) end left a sour taste in his mouth. He wasn’t the sort of person people ought to put their lives on the line for. He knew that. If anything, it was Emilio who was supposed to be doing the sacrificing, Emilio who was years past his expected date of expiration. No one ought to die for the benefit of a dull knife. That certainly included Zane.

But here he was, asking anyway. He had no intention of letting the vampire sacrifice himself for this cause, of course, but knowing that Zane probably would if it came down to it scared him a little. Part of him wanted to backtrack, wanted to take back the request and walk out, but he knew Zane well enough to know it wouldn’t work. Now that he knew about it, he was involved. He was going to stay involved. Emilio had known as much when he’d invited him out.

“You agreed without knowing what I was going to ask,” he pointed out. “You can back out if you want to. I’m just saying, you know, don’t… Agree to something you don’t want to do just to keep from pissing me off or something.” That wasn’t why Zane was agreeing. They both knew that. But the real reason — that Zane was his friend, that he wanted Emilio safe — felt too big to say aloud. “I don’t need a detective. I’ve got that covered. I’m good at what I do.” He was, despite what people seemed to think. “And I’m a good fighter, too. I just need… someone I can trust. I’ve got a few people on the inside I’m working with, but I don’t know if…” He trailed off, letting it hang. He was pretty sure Daiyu wouldn’t hang him out to dry — hunters tended to maintain some kind of a code, and Daiyu was a good one — but he didn’t trust the necromancer as far as he could throw him. He needed someone he knew wouldn’t screw him over. Zane fit that bill. “I’m meeting with them to go over a plan. If you mean it, if you really do want to help… You can come with me. We’ll figure out how to get those people out. And, I don’t know, maybe we don’t die.”

—

The mere fact that Emilio was asking for help seemed like the only necessary contradiction to that statement. If he hadn’t been more than just a bit worried, the slayer probably would have muddled through, shown up to their next practice with a new wound or slightly creakier joints. “If you say so.” It didn’t matter to Zane either way - not when Emilio had willingly walked into a room full of vampires, an elder, because he’d asked him to. At the time, it had definitely been more for the sake of the humans down there but Zane liked to think that if the same scenario was presented now, a part of Emilio had been there to save his ass, too.

And he had gotten himself stabbed fully through the shoulder which on its own was enough to earn him at least one giant favor.

“I did,” Zane deadpanned but the excuses, the backtracking, prattled out anyway. He huffed out a quiet laugh at the thought of agreeing just to not piss off Emilio - it was never that serious but the slayer definitely made a big deal out of pretending everything Zane did pissed him off. “Is there a way to keep from pissing you off?” he countered, cocking an eyebrow. “Because I haven’t found it yet.”

Being sarcastic, making jokes that would make a bystander think the two of them hated each other's guts, that was easy. As much as Zane kept trying to learn more about the slayer, every bit of serious conversation they had always seemed to hurt - terrifying, since he guessed he’d barely scratched the surface of Emilio’s damage. It came with perks alongside the emotional toll, like now having the certainty of the slayer’s trust. No small feat. “I like the not dying part,” Zane agreed, less unnerved now at the prospect of there being a team and a plan. “So for the third time, I’m in.”

—

Emilio rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in a brief show of frustration. “Is not very mature,” he said sullenly, looking the very picture of maturity himself as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. If he could see himself, in this moment, he might have been reminded of Flora when she was told no, of the way her tiny brow furrowed and her small lips pulled into a frown. It was probably a lot cuter on a toddler.

In any case, he knew he owed Zane for this. This was no small ask, no tiny request. This was the kind of thing that could end poorly. It was the kind of thing that probably would end poorly. But Emilio asked, and Zane said yes. He had to believe that that made it okay. He had to let himself believe that.

“You should really… not do that,” he said. “Someday, maybe I ask you to do something you really don’t want to do. If you say yes before I ask, you’ll be stuck with it. And then what?” Zane asked if there was some way to not piss Emilio off, and Emilio let out a laugh. I’m always pissed off, he could say. I don’t think I’m anything at all if I’m not angry. Aren’t there worse things to be? Doesn’t it weigh less? But he didn’t want Zane to give him that look, so he only shrugged. “Probably not.”

He’d done his part here, hadn’t he? He gave Zane an out — more than one, even. If Zane didn’t take it and something happened to him, was Emilio absolved of blame? Could he ever be? He sighed, nodding his head. “All right,” he relented. “Yeah. You’re in, then. I’ll let you know when we’re meeting. You can come along, you can… help come up with a plan. You��re better at those than I am.” Most people were. Emilio’s plans only ever ended in disaster.

—

There was no trying to hide the quirk of his lips at Emilio’s brief tantrum and for a moment, Zane allowed himself to be amused. He wouldn’t be reprimanded, not after the slayer had spent the better part of this evening playing nice to a disconcerting point. “You’re the old one,” he replied simply, smile growing. The moments were always fleeting but he reveled in them all the same, the ones where he could pretend Emilio wasn’t broken and Zane could do nothing to fix it. That they were just buddies with regular troubles, ones that hadn’t met under the threat of death.

It never lasted and this moment was no exception, joking thrown outside to make it clear how reckless the decision to help was. “I don’t think you’d ask me to do something I really didn’t want to do,” Zane answered honestly, somber. “And if you did, you’d have a good reason.” He’d never ask for a selfish reason - Zane wasn’t sure this man even knew how to be selfish and it was to his detriment. If there ever came a time where Emilio asked something completely unreasonable, Zane would say yes, knowing it would be for a good cause. He just wanted to do something worthy.

“I thought you were done with the compliments,” Zane jabbed, even if he knew that one had been genuine, giving Emilio an out from this weird setting of kindness he’d found himself in. “But yeah, alright. That settles it.” He paused. “You do know I like… hate beer, right?”

—

“And you’re the one who will live forever. You should learn to be mature now, save yourself time later,” Emilio shot back, rolling his eyes again. He didn’t add the obvious — that there would come a time, probably in the very near future, when Emilio would no longer be around to offer Zane advice or drag him into trouble. Emilio’s presence in the vampire’s life was destined to be a brief one; they both knew that, even if Zane was far less fond of admitting it.

Zane had a lot of faith in him. Too much, probably. Emilio was selfish, sometimes. There’d probably come a time when he did ask Zane to do something Zane wasn’t comfortable with, probably come a day when his single-minded focus on avenging people dead and buried would clash with Zane’s inherent goodness. Maybe that was a bridge they’d cross when they came to it, though. Maybe by then, Zane would know how to say no and mean it. Emilio could only hope.

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Not much of a compliment. I’m shit at plans.” Most of what Emilio did was of the ‘act first, think never’ variety. It wasn’t exactly ideal for something like this. He nodded as Zane agreed again, letting the quiet settle until the vampire broke it. The words elicited another quiet snort from the slayer, and then an actual chuckle. There was something undeniably hilarious about Zane choking down beer after beer just because he was too polite to tell Emilio he hated the stuff.

Another laugh bubbled up at the thought. “Jesus Christ,” Emilio huffed, rolling his eyes and reaching across the table. He took the beer and slid it back towards himself. “Next time, I’m buying you a goldfish or something.”

—

It was still an eerie thought, living forever. Zane really didn’t like to spend time on the notion, it made his insides feel all scratchy and uncomfortable. How did one even begin to come to terms with immortality? Well, at least he had plenty of time to figure that out which meant he could continue to ignore it for now. “Maybe when I reach my thirties,” he offered instead with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Maybe forcing Emilio to warm up to him had been a bad idea from the start. Aside from the obvious conflict of the man literally being born to kill things like Zane, it was a doomed thing. He was fighting a losing battle in trying to fix something that wasn’t his to fix and even if it had been, probably was beyond fixing anyway. For what was basically the start to some strange, found family, Emilio was an iffy choice. But maybe it was worth it just for these moments, for an actual laugh that wasn’t tinted with the usual self-deprecation.

“Alright, laugh it out just because you don’t know how to be polite,” Zane huffed, no real offense in his voice. Tossing a napkin at Emilio as the laughter continued, he stood up with a fond roll of his eyes. “I’m going to get something that doesn’t taste like shit,” he announced, shaking his head at the proposed option for ‘next time.’ It was nice when Emilio forgot to feel that he was doomed and let himself talk about next times. “If you get me a goldfish, I’m naming it Emilio.”

#rn zane #zane: a friendly favor #wickedswriting

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