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cyphertripping · 2 years

Note

Could you do a KAY/O x reader where the reader is a mechanic and KAY/O keeps on coming to her because he keeps malfunctioning in his ult (downed) and she tries to fix him? Thank you !!!

thanks for the req! this is my longest fic for valo yet hope you enjoy :)

Need Repairs (Kayo x f!reader)

Word Count: 2k

The first time the robot came to your shop, you’d been about to toss your radio out the window. The thing was an old, buggy piece of junk that only seemed to break the more you tried to fix it and only seemed to play the old hits station.

When he walked into your shop you were on the verge of taking a hammer ot the radio and he paused. “Bad time? I can come back later?” he asked.

His voice had so much nuance, you double took him, convinced he was some cosplayer in an elaborate costume with a vocalizer. Yet upon further inspection he was… if not a cyborg, an extremely well put together machine that also appeared to have fully functioning general intelligence.

The robot was huge, his figure taking up the entrance to your poorly lit shop, darkening the room except for the glowing parts on his chest and arms, as well as the large screen that made up his face. He was dressed in practical clothing, almost mercenary like.

You realized you’d been staring for an unknown amount of time, the robot ever patient, and stood up and away from your desk. You dropped the hammer unceremoniously. “Shit, sorry. Um, how can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you could assist me. I believe there is something flawed with my system and I heard recommendations from the locals that you are competent,” he started.

You scoffed, “please— competent. I can do better than competent.” You wondered who had been underselling you.

“You seem to be struggling with the radio,” he pointed out and you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, well— robots I can do, okay?” you make eye contact with vaguely where you imagine his eyes to be, reassuring him. Here was the sell, if he chose to take your services or not. As a freelancer, a little extra money was always nice.

He finally nodded. “Very well. Where is a good place for you to work? My maintenance panel is in the back.”

You pet the bench next to you. “There’s good. Just sit down and I’ll get my tools.” He did as you ask and you realized you didn’t even know his name (did robots for hire have that sort of thing?). You could hear your mother’s voice in your head— you got to take someone out first before you open up their back!

“Um, what’s is your name. Do you have one?” You awkwardly asked as you began unscrewing the back panel. As you set it off to the side you resisted the urge to whistle. Whoever this guy was, his construction was top notch. It was better than anything you’d seen at conventions or in the latest tech news. The panel had been so subtle, you wouldn’t have even known it was there if you hadn’t been told.

“Kay/o,” the robot finally answered. “My task is to eliminate radiants,” he added, matter of fact.

You blinked. You were under the impression that radiants were good— or at least the few individuals unlucky enough to be changed biologically by the First Light.

“Or it was… before,” Kay/o cut himself off. “Anyway. My issue is— there’s a special backup mode I go into when I sustain heavy damage.” You nodded, pleased that your guess that he was some kind of mercenary was right. “But recently, it’s been feeling… strange after I’m restarted.”

You hummed. Stranger than experiencing dying and coming back? If there was something irregular, you supposed a robot was the best to sense it. If something was quantitatively off, he would be able to tell.

You smiled wryly, “have you tried shutting off and on again?”

Kay/o seemed to take the joke at face value. “I have, however the next time I’m reset, it still happens again. It shouldn’t be happening— a reset is a reset.” You can’t see his face but the colors of the changing screen reflect off the wall.

“Well?” he finally asked after you don’t respond for a moment. “I’m no radio, think you can fix me?”

You blinked for a moment, not even expecting the joke. A small laugh escaped you unconsciously. Yeah, you think you should be able to help this robot.

“Do you have your blueprints? That would make this easier,” you asked. That and perhaps analyzing general AI was perhaps beyond the knowledge of a homegrown mechanic who dropped out of college. But looking at the parts, seeing if anything was different, and fixing them— that was where you excelled.

He shook his head, shoulders bent. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

You nodded. Things happened. You brushed over the wiring and interface within his back. He truly was an inspired creation, you marvelled. To find whatever was causing the off-feeling would be… difficult without the blueprints.

You stood up. Regardless, Kay/o was now your customer and you had a duty to help him as best you could. “We’ll take a scan then and break down the different parts. See what could be influencing it.”

Kay/o nodded. “This is acceptable. Just as long as I don’t end up in the recycling.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the unexpected joke.

“No, that shouldn’t be necessary,” you smiled.

You spent the rest of the day creating 3D models of the scans you did of his back components and head mainframe. The two of you talked, filling the silence (silence as of your radio being excommunicated), and you were surprised to find yourself entertained. Kay/o was a good conversationalist and honestly far above the average of most of your customers. You tried not to pry too deeply into his past or who he was, and the atmosphere was calm.

Kay/o eventually had to leave. “I’ll return as soon as my work allows it,” he promised.

You nodded absentmindedly, already absorbed in the task that was his design. But when his figure finally left the workshop, it felt strangely quiet.

You hadn’t quite realized that ‘back soon’ apparently meant three weeks. You supposed Kay/o perhaps was also a person who had to take odd jobs and the like, but he had your business phone and hadn’t bothered to call?

When he hadn’t returned in the first week, you had to set aside his project for other tasks in the meantime to keep the lights on. But in the evening when everything was cleaned up and your quicker jobs completed, you would pull up your computer and the model, taking apart and putting Kay/o together.

As the days went on, you found yourself, in a strange way, falling in love with Kay/o. Or at least, only in a way someone who worked with their hands could understand— the way metal merged seamlessly with leather and silicon and other synthesized materials. Metal so hard it was bulletproof, yet light enough to move quickly. He was… for lack of better words, a killer robot. And apparently damn good at it.

You had no idea who could’ve made him. Most renown mechanics had their own touches— their signature marks in the way they intuitively put together their machines or, in some cases, an actual mark. Yet, Kay/o was flawless— unmarked.

The most fascinating part was his mind. The tangle of wires and synapses that were able to mimic a thinking, human brain. The way signals traveled through it were able to not only mimic the connectivity of a human mind but at the same speed, without overheating. It was a miracle of engineering.

You also discovered the drive behind what was listed as his “NULL/cmd” ability. It seemed to trigger a huge wave of energy which also allowed Kay/o to shut down into a minimal energy-consumption state that he could be revived from. It also seemed to be directly connected to his neuron system.

Wait… what? You looked closer at the model, not sure if your tiredness was making the lines overlap. But no, your first impression had been correct. Everytime Kay/o was downed and then brought back, the shock of energy it sent to his brain— what powered his AI— got a sort of boost. Instead of the system falling back upon coded defaults, it was as though the “rules” of what made Kay/o Kay/o changed. They were instead based on probabilities, the collectivized experiences of every iteration of Kay/o that had ever been reset.

He was evolving.

The original coding, buried under years of distance and experience, painted the picture of a no-nonsense weapon, built to kill radiants. It was miles from the robot who had come to your shop and joked about recycling. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if Kay/o needed fixing.

You went to sleep that night, uneasy thoughts keeping you up late.

The next day, naturally, was when Kay/o reappeared.

“You’re back,” you said. Clearly.

Kay/o nodded. “I’m sorry it took so long. I’ll pay extra for the work.”

You blinked in surprise, having almost forgotten your side hobby of working his designs had started as a job. “Were you able to find a solution to the issue?” he prompted you.

“Well,” you hesitated. “Not exactly.” You grabbed your computer that had the scans and pulled them up. “I was looking at the designs— which was not very easy, by the way— and it looks like the component that powers your CMD/null is malfunctioning in a way that it’s changing. Self-evolving.”

You looked at him, concerned. His face was the standard projection, nothing showing what he was thinking in that brain of wires.

“Kay/o?” you asked nervously.

His head finally snapped away from the diagram you were showing him to stare at you. Again, you felt the weight of his gaze. Finally, he spoke. “I… didn’t expect this.” It was strange to hear a robot hesitate.

“My system was always designed to innovate— to analyze radiants’ abilities and adapt. But this is different— more internal,” he explained slowly. “I am not the robot I should be.”

A red warning light appeared on his screen. “I must undo this.”

You stood up quickly, reaching out to him. “Wait— what do you mean? What are you going to do?”

“Some damage must have happened when I came here. To this time. I need to undo it all,” Kay/o said grimly. Something dropped to the bottom of your stomach in dread.

“Wait! Is… is the change such a bad thing?” you pleaded.

Kay/o tilted his head, confused. “I am not performing optimally.” He looked down and you realized without meaning to, you had grabbed his arm. “I cannot, not here. Perhaps I must find another mechanic—”

“No! Kay/o, please. I… I like you this way.” You immediately flush at your own forwardness. “I mean— you’re… funny,” you ended lamely.

His shoulders bent forward. “I… I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“How?”

“Scared. Sad, angry. I never felt this before. There’s a pain in me that I can’t shut off,” he said, as quiet as his vocalizer allowed. He looked at you slowly. “There’s a feeling I can’t quite place. But in my database it matches what seems to be… longing.”

You smiled at him sadly, feeling on the brink of tears. “Yeah. I mean. That’s being human, you know?”

His hand reached out, hesitating to let you move away, until it reached your cheek. You leaned into his touch, the slight whir of mechanics vibrating against you like a pulse. You tried to ignore how your heart was racing right now.

“It’s not bad?” he asked, sounding lost like a kid. Your heart broke and was sewn back at the same time by his gentle touch.

“No, Kay, no it’s not,” you whispered. Happy tears streamed down your face. “We’ll figure this out together, but no. I don’t think this is bad.”

You wrapped him in a hug and he melted into you.

“Okay,” he said. And you could hear the relief in his voice.

#kayo x reader fic #x f reader #kayo x reader #valorant x reader #valorant x reader fic #x reader requests #valorant x reader requests #kayo valorant #reader fic #valorant headcanons #x reader insert #reader insert #x female reader #valorant fanfiction #valorant fic

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five-rivers · 4 years

Note

imagine if at a christmas truce party the ghosts discover that danny has a second obsession of space

Wrote a fic~ *does a little dance*

"Here's your invitation to the truce party," said Skulker, dropping the letter by Danny's head, "and here's the duty list. Pick something." He shoved a piece of paper into Danny's face.

"You know," said Danny, testing the rope Skulker had tied him with, "you get a lot better at chasing me when you're doing it for non-murder purposes."

Skulker scowled, but Danny knew better than to take his apparent facial expression as a sign of his true emotions. After all, the face Danny could see wasn't really Skulker's. It was a mask. One the tiny green jellybean inside could manipulate as he pleased.

"What do you mean, 'duty list,' anyway?" Danny blew the paper off his nose.

"It's a list. Of duties. For people who want to attend the party. You can't possibly imagine that one ghost does it all on their own, do you?"

"I don't know. Some living people are really into the holidays. Wouldn't surprise me if there was someone over in the GZ Obsessing."

"There are," said Skulker flatly. "But going to those parties is risky."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess that makes sense. So, is this, like, a potluck deal, or white elephant, or do I have to come set up, or what?"

"Read the list, whelp!"

"I would," said Danny, "if you held it far enough away for me to see what was written on it. "My eyes don't focus that close."

Grumbling, Skulker adjusted his position.

A lot of the things on the list were already checked off. The rest looked dangerous (fighting the Krampus), time consuming (holly acquisition, with a stupidly high number of branches listed next to it), expensive (providing new holiday table settings), confusing (Danny didn't know what a 'consoda' was, or why he would fetch offerings from it), or simply extraordinarily unappealing (after party cleanup). Except for one.

One that caught Danny's eye because of a very specific word that was included.

"Why's the star all by itself?" asked Danny.

"Because the star is important," said Skulker. "Adding the star to the tree is what starts off the real celebration. A star needs to be impressive. Dramatic! Not one of those little dinky tinsel things you can find at human stores."

Part of Danny knew he shouldn't- But when had he ever listened to that part of himself?

Actually, that wasn't really fair. He listened, otherwise he'd be fully dead instead of just half.

Still.

(The idea of making a star made his skin feel sparkly and fuzzy, like his whole body was half an inch from the surface of freshly poured soda, but all over.)

"I'll take it," he said.

"Humf," said Skulker. "Don't screw up, or you'll be in for a beating as soon as the truce is over." He made a mark by the name and started to fly off.

"Hey! Aren't you going to untie me?"

"Nah."

"He's late," said Desiree, sharply, glaring at Skulker as if he had any control over what the whelp did or did not do.

She wasn't the only one.

"He's not late yet," defended Skulker.

"You shouldn't have given him the star as a choice," complained Technus, his voice squaking like a poorly connected computer speaker. "You should have just told him what he'd have to do. Something that wouldn't ruin the party. He's a teenager! Teenagers are easily distracted."

"I didn't know you were a teen, techie," drawled Spectra, who really shouldn't have been at the party at all, seeing as she wasn't, and never had been, invited. Skulker was hoping someone would find a way to throw her and her little minion out before midnight.

"It's TECHNUS, MASTER OF TECHNOLOGY, CONTROLLER OF ALL THINGS ELECTRONIC AND BEEPING."

"I am sure Sir Phantom is on his way," said Princess Dora, softly, ignoring Technus's continuing rant with the ease of long practice. She would not be here the whole evening. Her kingdom had its own, separate celebrations, but they wouldn't start for well over half a human day. "He is a very responsible person, and he was speaking to me about stars just earlier this month." She frowned, slightly, swirling the darkly luminous wine in her glass. "That is, I think he was talking about stars. The conversation was somewhat difficult for me to follow."

"Oh, no," said Desiree, putting one hand delicately over a smile.

"What?" growled Skulker.

"It always bothered me a little, you see, but I hadn't realized quite why until just now." She was barely even trying to hide her delight. "The second time I fought him, it was during a meteor shower."

"So?" asked Amorpho.

"He was rather cross with me during the fight. At the time, I thought it was because he was missing that girl's party, or because of the whole memory wiping thing, but in retrospect..."

"Just spit it out already," said Skulker.

"I do believe you gave the task of making the tree star to a ghost Obsessed with outer space."

Inside the suit, Skulker's true hands slip off his controls for just a moment. "Oh, Ancients," he groaned.

"We're not getting a star this year, are we?" asked Ember.

Phantom chose that moment to barrel through the door. "Sorry!" he exclaimed, looking and sounding more like a little kid than Skulker had ever witnessed. "Am I late? No, I'm not. Never mind. I'm not sorry. What do you think?"

He held out the... thing in his hands for the assembled ghosts to view. It was... It was definitely a star. A round blue star. Complete with solar flares and sunspots. Animated flares and sunspots.

"How the hell?" whispered Walker in the background, despite the fact that he and his pink prison really had no room to talk.

"Is it no good?" asked Phantom, managing to shift his weight even though he was floating. "I turned the brightness way down so that everyone could see the details, but I think I could turn it back up again without too much trouble." He blinked up at the other ghosts, and Skulker noticed with some unease that his pupils were currently shaped like crescent moons. "I mean, the other one exploded, but I think I've got it, now."

All of the ghosts slid back, just slightly. Not that they were afraid of explosions, but, well, being cautious didn't hurt.

"Er," said Dora, "what is it, exactly?"

"A star! A blue giant, specifically. Well, a model of one, anyway, but I think it's a good model. I mean, it's a blue giant right now. I've got it set up so that it'll go through the whole life cycle of a massive star. Or, not the whole life cycle, because that would include the nebula, but the life cycle from this point? It'll change color and expand as the night goes on and it uses up its 'hydrogen'- I've scaled the expansion, though, don't worry, it won't take over- and then the core will collapse and the outer layers will be ejected, and- BOOM!- supernova!"

"Ghost child," said Technus, in a more strangled than usual voice, "are you telling us that's a bomb?"

"No, it's a star," said Phantom, blankly. On closer inspection, the crescents in his eyes were not the only modification to Phantom's appearance. He had pale green and silver stars scattered liberally across his nose and cheeks, and similar shapes in the black of his costume.

In the background, Desiree was dying of laughter.

"Don't you think a supernova might be... dangerous?"

"Oh, a real one, sure. But I tested one before I brought this, and all it did to me was singe my eyebrows off, and I was standing really close."

"Whelp," said Skulker, searching for some reason to reject Phantom's 'contribution,' "how is that even supposed to stay on the tree? It's just a ball."

"Oh, it'll float wherever I tell it to, don't worry, I've tested it!"

It perhaps said something about ghostly parties that the sudden detonation of the tree topper several hours later, the subsequent glee of the supposed superhero in attendance when the room was filled with star-shaped glitter and confetti, and the attempted homicide on the part of several glitter-unfriendly ghosts was not the most exciting series of events to occur that night.

#danny phantom #ask #answer #fic

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

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Hiya, I was wondering if I could please request 3 (Echo) with B+O (Injury/sickness recovery + first kiss)? I don’t really mind who’s in recovery or whether it’s 501st echo/bad batch echo, I just thought these prompts would lead nicely into a confession between our two main characters; also I just want to say I love your writing!! ❤️

Aww, thank you so much for the request and for being so kind, Anon! Sorry this took forever, but I’ve been stuck in an idea block for a week or two, and I ended up writing about four different versions of this. You’re very sweet, but you probably shouldn’t be nice to me, because apparently, it makes me write one-shots that are way too long. So here’s a 2700 word one-shot...

Also! It ended up being a tad spicy toward the end. Nothing anywhere close to M-rating, but more than I usually write in one-shots.

Echo + Injury/Sickness Recovery + First Kiss

The first time you met Echo, you didn't like him very much.

You were in the medbay for a sickness that was taking Coruscant by storm, hitting nat-born GAR members especially hard. As a nat-born intelligence officer, you had been ordered to the GAR's main medbay, which had been sub-divided into large bays full of cots. Almost every cot was filled with GAR personnel who needed treatment for the same sickness.

It wouldn't have been bad if you had been able to take the meds right away and start the healing process, but you had been on a dangerous mission and fought the sickness off for longer than you should have. It had worked and you had survived your mission, but you were severely dehydrated. The medics - all clone troopers, by that point - had ordered you to stay until you were fully healed and they could get your fluid levels back where they should have been. Faced with no other options, you had agreed.

And then the 501st had arrived.

Through your IV, you had gotten through half a bag of a liquid you preferred not to think too hard about. The medics promised that your meds would be kicking in soon, and you would feel much better before the day was over. For the moment, you felt nauseated and every part of your body ached, especially your head.

When the troopers came in, their white armor painted with blue accents in various styles, they were so loud that the rest of the medbay went quiet.

One of the medics, his hair shaved short to show off a set of intricate tattoos, hurried up to them as he pulled off his gloves. You could hear his hissed question from your bed on the other side of the large room. "What are you idiots doing here?"

One of the men beamed at him. "We're in trouble!"

You scoffed to yourself. You had no difficulty believing they had gotten on someone's bad side.

The tattooed medic rubbed his temples. "Hardcase… what did you guys do now?"

You had heard stories about the rowdy 501st from other operatives. They were supposed to be a nightmare to work alongside, all explosions and heroics without any grasp of subtlety.

One of the other men stepped forward and seemed to be offering an explanation, but he did it in a voice pitched low enough that you couldn't hear him. You were grateful for that, and did your best to fall asleep.

It wasn't to be, however, as one of the 501st made his way down the row of beds in your direction. He chatted with some of the other patients, laughing loudly at their responses. By the time he reached you, you could have cheerfully put a blaster to the 5 tattooed on his temple.

"And how are you doing today?" the trooper belted out.

"In a lot of pain, actually," you snapped at him, a visceral response to the effect his voice had on your roiling stomach. "Can you please talk more quietly?"

There. A please. You were being polite.

"If I'm quiet, does that mean I can stay over here with you, pretty lady?" he asked with a wink, settling onto the foot of your bed.

You eyed him stonily. You felt revolting from the effects of the sickness, and you were wearing a GAR-issued medical gown besides. ‘Pretty’ was an attempt at flattery, and not even a believable one.

"Fives," the medic with the head tattoos admonished, stepping up to your bedside as well. "Stop. She doesn't feel well and she doesn't need you hanging around, making it worse."

"Me?" Fives asked, sounding both shocked and offended. "We both know I only make things better, Kix."

You sighed and wished with your whole soul that they would both go away. You just wanted to sleep.

"Besides," Fives continued, "We were ordered to help in the medbay. You wouldn't want me to disobey orders, would you?"

From the look on Kix's face, he had lined up a scathing retort that you were dying to hear, but you needed to make a brief announcement. "If this conversation continues right here, I am going to vomit."

You had never seen two grown men move so quickly. You would have smiled if you didn't feel so rotten.

"Echo," Kix called softly with a worried glance in your direction, beckoning yet another trooper over.

This one had no tattoos, but you vaguely recognized him as the only trooper you hadn't been able to overhear earlier.

"Get Fives away from here," Kix ordered. "Keep him productive and occupied, but don't let him talk."

Echo nodded and gave you an apologetic nod. "I'm sorry about him," he said, indicating Fives, who looked deeply offended.

"Please," was the only response you could muster, cradling your head delicately in your hands. From the bit of your peripheral vision that wasn’t blocked by your palms, you watched his shoulders slump slightly as he towed his brother away. When you finally fell asleep, your dreams were full of Echo’s disappointed face along with strong feelings of guilt.

The second time you met him was only a few hours later. You were having fever dreams. The medication had apparently worn off and no one had noticed. In your dreams, you had called a medic over a dozen times, but you always woke to find that you hadn’t said a thing, and fell asleep again before you could.

It was one of these shallow, fitful dreams that Echo interrupted. “Hey. Hey! Shhh, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

Thoroughly confused by the world of the surrounding medbay, you squinted up at him. “Echo?” He nodded and you launched right into the speech you had prepared in your sleep. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. I just… my head hurt, and you guys are loud, and-”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Echo assured you, crouching by your bedside to put himself on your level. “The 501st - and Fives in particular - is very loud. It’s our best quality.”

You snorted at that and Echo’s kind face broke into a warm smile. “You should get back to sleep. It’s really late. Or early. I’m not sure which, but everyone else is asleep, and you should be, too.”

“I think I need some meds, actually,” you admitted. “I feel like death.”

Echo frowned and reached up to brush his fingers over your forehead, flinching back almost immediately. “Kriff, you’re burning up! Hang on, let me grab a medic for you.”

You nodded, but grabbed his wrist before he could leave, “If you bring me some water, I’ll love you forever.”

It was just a childish hyperbole, something you and your family had said whenever you had asked for a favor, particularly a minor one. Echo didn’t seem to have the same connection with it, based on the way he had frozen in place and was staring at you with wide eyes that flashed between your face and your grip on his wrist.

Clearing your throat, you released him and corrected yourself. “I mean, please? I’m very thirsty.”

Echo turned around a moment later and you sighed, hoping your hot face looked like the flush of a fever.

You were half-drowsing when Echo came back with Kix in tow. You jumped a bit when Kix said your name, and Echo was quick to soothe you. “Easy, easy. It’s just us.”

He handed you the biggest glass of water you had ever seen and retreated halfway across the medbay before you had chugged half of it.

The next day, you were actually feeling better. Granted, ‘better’ was a relative term, but you didn’t actively want to die any more, and that was something. The only thing messing up your day was the lingering awkwardness between you and Echo. Every time his circuit around the room took him past your cot, he would avoid your eyes.

From your calculations, he looped around the gigantic medbay room every six minutes or so. On his next lap past, you softly asked, “Echo?”

You had meant to be subtle and quiet, but you were still a bit less hydrated than you should have been, and it came out as a horrifying croak. If someone had called your name in that voice, you would have immediately run away, but Echo just turned slightly and looked your direction.

“I’m sorry for last night,” you apologized.

“You already said that,” Echo reminded you gently. “The 501st is loud. I understand why you weren’t happy with us.”

“Not about that,” you forced out, half-wishing you could just let him think you had been delirious with fever and thus not responsible for anything you had said or done. “I mean that I’m sorry for saying the whole love you forever thing. It was a joke, but I feel like it landed poorly.”

“There’s no need, really,” Echo told you. He smiled then, a small sad smile. “We clones don’t get to see much good in the universe. Not with this war going on. Even though you were joking, it was nice to hear something like that.”

You stared at him, trying to keep the poker face the GAR had hired you for.

“Besides,” Echo said with a laugh, “if you want to see how a bad joke really sounds, hang out with Fives for a few minutes. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to see the difference!”

You chuckled at that and the smile he gave lit his whole face as he continued his patrol. You watched Echo leave, thinking hard. It was ironic that this was the conversation where your heart had melted just a touch. It wasn’t love, not yet, but this third exchange left feelings that were inappropriate considering that you had known him for less than a day.

That night, you couldn’t sleep, betrayed by all of the napping you had done during the day. Echo was patrolling the room again and noticed you on his fourth lap.

He crouched by your bedside once again. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope,” you admitted with a sigh. “Can you?”

Echo frowned. “I can, but I’m on watch right now.”

“On watch,” you repeated skeptically. “For what?”

“Someone has to make sure the patients are doing okay while the medics sleep,” he explained. “It’s a very important job.”

“Your brothers are all playing sabacc in the corner,” you pointed out. “Go join them. Or, better yet, get some sleep. I haven’t seen you take a break yet.”

“You were unconscious for over half of the day,” Echo reminded you. “I could have been on break then.”

“You weren’t,” you told him confidently. “Because you wouldn’t have known that I slept the whole time.”

Echo frowned. “You’re too smart to work for the army.”

“Intelligence officer,” you explained simply.

Lifting his eyebrows in exaggerated shock, Echo leapt to his feet and gave a dramatic salute. You pretended to aim a kick in his direction and you both dissolved into muffled giggles in an attempt not to wake any of the other patients.

“If you won’t try to sleep, at least sit down?” you requested, indicating the foot of your cot as you struggled to sit up so you could move out of his way. “You’re stressing me out. I can’t be expected to get better if I’m stressed.”

“We can’t have that,” Echo teased. He helped you sit up before he did anything else, but the awkwardness of the position left him hauling you up by your armpits. You were thankful that you had found the strength to walk to the sonic shower that day, at least. “Not like I can get sick from you, anyway.”

Echo sat talking with you for hours, even after his brothers had all drifted off at their sabacc table. Before you fell asleep again, he brought you another giant glass of water. You accepted it with a smile. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

He nodded and left so you could get some sleep. By the time you had finished the glass, he was on the other side of the medbay and couldn’t hear you mutter, “Love you forever.”

For the next few days, Echo lived by your bedside. The conversations you had made you laugh so hard that you went into the occasional coughing fit and got the evil eye from Kix. So, you were less pleased than you had expected to be when Kix told you that you could be discharged the following day.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Getting your sleep pattern back under control was going to be the biggest struggle, you reflected, staring at the massive beams supporting the ceiling.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Echo teased, walking up. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

You waved a hand around dramatically. “I’m trying to commit these beautiful surroundings to memory. If I’m leaving tomorrow, I’ll need to remember the enchanting way the dust clings to that wall over there.”

Suddenly serious, Echo asked, “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

You nodded, and couldn’t tell if it was your imagination, or if he really looked disappointed. Still, he mustered a smile. “I’m glad.”

With a falsely offended gasp, you replied, “You’re glad I’m leaving? That’s rude!”

“No, I mean-!” Echo sputtered, grimacing at you when you started to laugh. “I’m glad you’re getting better. Even if you’re just as mean as the day I met you.”

“Yeah, I’m terrible,” you agreed with a grin.

“You are not,” he countered immediately. “You’re sweet and funny and- I’ll miss you. Selfish, huh?”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you admitted. “I guess we’re both selfish. But, hey, you’ll finally get some sleep now!”

“I suppose I will,” Echo said with the ghost of his usual smile. “At least we can have one last overnight conversation. Unless you’re too tired?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Sit down, Echo.”

The two of you talked for hours that night. The medbay steadily got more silent and your eyes began to ache. Try as you might, you were still recovering from your illness and the point came when you couldn’t fight it off any longer. You fell into a light doze as Echo was talking.

You were dimly aware as he finished his sentence and waited for a response, but you couldn’t make yourself say anything. Echo gave an amused sounding hum and stood from your cot. You immediately missed his warmth, but felt like he was still standing by you.

Soft lips pressed against your forehead and left as Echo started to move away. “What was that cop-out bantha dung?” you asked blearily.

Echo jumped a bit and stared down at you, but you were half-asleep, impulsive, and you knew what you wanted. You sat up to grab his shoulders and brought him back down to you, kissing him with as much fervor as an extremely tired person could muster.

He kissed you back, opening his mouth to release an almost-soundless groan, and you were suddenly wide awake. With both of you actively participating in your embrace, it didn’t take long for the pair of you to get carried away.

When you finally broke apart, it was only because someone had cleared their throat sharply.

Echo pulled back, bracing on his forearms to look up at Kix while you peered at the medic from under Echo’s chest. When had he gotten on top of you? His hip brushed against your upper thigh and you abruptly didn’t care anymore.

“I take it you’re well enough to be released from here?” Kix asked, a raised brow accentuating his smirk.

You glanced around to find that half of the medbay was awake and staring at you and Echo with expressions ranging from bleary bewilderment to amused approval. Some of Echo’s brothers were awake as well, though their faces ran heavily to outright shock.

“Uh, yeah. I’m ready to go home,” you agreed, glancing up at Echo. “Wanna come with me?”

Echo nodded and glanced up at Kix. The medic shrugged and looked at the ceiling. “No, I have no idea where Echo went. He worked several around the chrono shifts and then he disappeared. I assume he went to get some well-deserved rest. Sign here.”

The last part was directed at you and you obligingly scrawled your name on the datapad he was holding out in your direction.

“Your personal effects are in the front room,” Kix informed you. “Drink some water now and then, would you?”

“Of course, thanks,” you said absently, attention already stolen away by the fascinating blush creeping up Echo’s cheeks. You slipped out from under him and grabbed his hand to tow him behind you. “C’mon. You’re gonna love my apartment.”

---

A/N - ahh, why did this end up being such a novel? Sorry about that! If you want to read similar works, check out my masterlist or make a request based on this post (or make something up and I’ll do my best!). Thanks for reading!

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #sw tcw #tcw fanfic #tcw #echo #echo x you #echo x reader #kix #fives #illness #first kiss #star wars fanfiction #fic request

170 notes · View notes

faulty-writes · 3 years

Note

Me: sees thine holy writing: (°▽°)

Sees that you write lots for tenya: (^○^)

Me remembering that I’m a tenya simp: (*ﾟ∀ﾟ*)

Haha, something to cheer you day up ^-^

But can you write the most fluffiest fanfic for iida? Much thank

A fluffy fic you say? Well, this is what I present to you! Mainly inspired by this gif, interesting what gives you inspiration. But I hope you enjoy this, I tried to make it fluffy.

[ Tenya was normally attentive to those that needed it, however when you get a cut on your finger and Tenya insists he patch it up for you. Things get a little strange when you request a few more things from him. ]

A cough escapes as the dirt continues to float around you, your hero suit was covered in debris and a soft ache coursed through your shoulder. More than likely because you landed on it when you tried to outmaneuver the turbo hero, Ingenium.

But, most of the time you knew him as Tenya Iida. Class A had come to a mutual agreement to take part in extra training and had been granted permission to use Ground Omega by your teacher Shota Aizawa, but it seemed the training backfired.

“Y/n!” Tenya’s urgent voice came as you cradled your hand to your chest, but you held your index finger out. A bloody cut, about an inch or so, ran down the tip of your finger. Small droplets of red soaked into the ground below you and moments later, you felt a gust of wind.

It carried your hair and another cloud of dirt which made you turn your head and cough yet again. “Ah,” Tenya looked at you from behind the eyepiece of his helmet before he removed it completely, deciding to allow it to hang from the side of his hip instead.

His glasses were slightly tilted on the bridge of his nose, but that didn’t stop him from scanning you from head to toe. His arms were held up and bent slightly, fingers separated in a panic. Then a moment later, he dropped to his knees and began chopping his hand through the air.

“Y/n! Are you alright? My sincerest apologies!” his voice was slightly frantic as he begins to bow repeatedly and you couldn’t do much but look at him with slight amusement. Tenya always took things too seriously and it was humorous, but most of the time unnecessary.

It wasn’t right to expect one person to carry the consequence of other's actions or even their own, to some extent. But Tenya seemed to feel guilt over the smallest of things, including what had gone wrong during the training exercise and, “Y/n! Your finger!” Uraraka’s voice suddenly cut through the air.

“Huh?” you blinked and turned to look at her, Izuku was by her side and Eijirou next to him. “Hey, uh...do you need to see Recovery Girl?” the redhead questioned before letting out a wince as Katsuki smacked him in the back of the head.

“Shut the hell up!” the furious blond exclaimed before stomping his foot and placing his gloved hands on his hips. He turned to you, eyes narrowing on your finger. “Pff,” he then turned to walk away, “the extra is fine! Now come on! We’re here to train, damn it!” he growled through clenched teeth before using his quirk to blast off the ground.

“Hey wait!” Eijirou called after him, raising one of his hands in the air as if he could touch Katsuki before he stopped short. “Uh,” he looked between you, Tenya, Izuku, and Uraraka. “Sorry! I’ll catch you all later!” he said before he resumed running out of sight.

Uraraka frowned and turned to Izuku who stepped forward as Tenya focused his attention back on you. A gasp came when he noticed the state of your finger, “Y/n, may I…” he hesitated as he motioned to your hand. “Oh,” you looked at your cut before nodding and holding it out for him.

He grasped your wrist gently and was careful to avoid touching the cut as he held your finger between two of his own. “Hm, I see,” he released your hand and reached up to push his glasses back into place before standing on his feet.

“Midoriya, Ochako,” he said, effectively catching their attention. “I’m going to take Y/n back to the dormitory building, their cut doesn’t look too serious. However, I’d rather take precautionary measures to ensure it does not become infected or is otherwise untreated,” he placed his hands on his hips.

“Is that acceptable to the two of you?” he questioned and Izuku nodded. “Of course, it is! You’re such a good friend Iida, take care of them well!” Uraraka said with a smile. “Yeah, and it’s alright i-if...you don’t make it back to training. It’s only...practice after all,” Izuku confirmed before he looked at you.

“If you um, ever want to practice training again. I’m sure we can organize something,” he said and you smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied before watching the two of them walk away. “Iida, you don’t have to take care of my cut,” you knew that was rude to say considering Tenya seemed stern in his new objective to do exactly that.

You didn't bother looking at him, or his reaction to your words. Rather your attention was on the red liquid that still poured from the cut. “Forgive me, but I disagree.” he crossed his arms over his chest, a present frown now on his lips.

“It is my fault that you got injured, though be it a small cut. I take full responsibility and I will make this fault up to you,” he spoke proudly and his voice slightly deepened which caused a shiver to run down your spine. You glanced away hoping to hide your flushed expression.

There was always something about Tenya when he spoke in a certain tone, maybe you found it attractive. But you’d never tell him that. “Please allow me to carry you,” your head shot back in his direction. “W-What?” you questioned, clearly dumbfounded especially when you saw him smile.

Once more, he brought his hand up. Pressing his fingers against the metal plate of his suit. “Forgive me, perhaps that question is rather shocking and inappropriate without proper permission, allow me to make my intentions clear,” he said before bringing his hands to his sides.

“Will you please allow me permission to carry you to the Class A dormitory building?” he asked, his voice deepening once more and you felt your mouth get slightly dry. “Uh…” you swallowed hard, “I guess...you can,” you replied sheepishly and that’s all the confirmation Tenya needed.

Before you could register what was happening, you felt one arm brace the back of your knees and another pressing firmly across your shoulder blades. A squeak escaped when you realized you were being lifted and your arms snaked around Tenya’s neck, taking a firm grip.

“Apologies, I do not mean to frighten you. But please know, I would never drop nor purposely hurt you. You are safe within my arms,” he stated as he looked at you. “Hm!?” your reaction wasn’t exactly voluntary and neither was the pink-tinted color coming to your cheeks which Tenya noticed.

“Are you alright? Do you feel ill!?” he questioned in a frantic manner, leaning dangerously close to you. “I...I-I’m fine!” you managed to squeak out which caused Tenya to narrow his eyes. “Are you certa-” you interrupted him by nodding your head, but you knew he didn’t believe you.

Still, you were relieved when he finally leaned away. Giving you a chance to breathe, the dull ache from your finger somewhat brings you back to reality along with the rumbling sound of Tenya’s engines. “Please hold on tight, I will not drop you as your safety is my number one concern as of this moment,” he reassured you, completely oblivious to the fact he was making your heart race.

But that changed the moment he kicked off the ground and your world blurred. The wind felt as though it were piercing right through you and your hair whipped around violently. It was a little pathetic, but you found yourself curling into Tenya.

Partly trying to block the wind from affecting you while your stomach continued to twist slightly, unused to the high speeds Tenya could reach. While it felt like moments had passed by, in a matter of seconds you were closing in on the dormitory building.

The wind got less intense as Tenya slowed down and you lifted your head to look at him, listening to those soft pants that left his mouth. “Tenya…?” you questioned, and watched as he turned his attention on you.

“Hm, yes?” he responded, those soft pants of his continuing to fill the air. “Oh...um nothing,” you said before deciding to focus on the front porch of the dormitory instead. But, you should have known better. ‘Nothing’ wasn’t an answer that could or would satisfy Tenya.

“Are you most certain? You do not have to be afraid to ask a question even if the subject of which concerns me, you, or something unrelated," he began, once more dropping down to that serious tone of his.

"I am more than happy to provide an answer as your classmate, class president, and dear friend,” you felt your heart sink as he began to slowly walk up the stairs, and with each step, you could feel the pressure of his fingertips digging into the skin of your shoulder.

“I know…” you replied as you pressed your hand to his chest, feeling how warm the metal had gotten due to his run. It made you wonder if Tenya was sweating on the inside of his hero suit or if he had some type of cooling system similar to the ones in his boots that prevented his engines from overheating.

“Just...thank you,” the words came out in a shy whisper just before you glanced away. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me, it’s only a little cut,” you reminded him, but Tenya shook his head.

“I am afraid you got harmed as a direct result of my poorly timed actions, perhaps I was not fully comprehending or registering them during our training. But such behavior is unbefitting of a hero, especially toward someone they care deeply for," he said as he turned back to look at you, eyebrows slanted in another serious expression.

You parted your lips slightly, letting out a soft almost inaudible noise as he continued to speak. "In addition, as I stated earlier. I will do what I must to right this fault I have committed,” those subtle noises now turned into a defeated sigh.

Tenya was admirable in some sense of the word but once more you found yourself wishing he wasn't so serious. Your thoughts were broken as he walked through the door and the eerie silence of the dorm came to attention. It was strange to see the place empty.

“I am going to take you to the restroom, does that sound acceptable?” he questioned and you jumped in his arms. “Uh…” a moment of hesitation came before you shook your head. “Oh, I mean! Uh, t-that’s fine!” you replied and yet again got a strange look from Tenya.

“Are you most certain you are well?” you latched onto your bottom lip, cursing yourself for your rather stupid response. But, you nodded. “Y-Yeah! Fine...just not used to being carried,” your explanation was accompanied by an awkward laugh that almost made you want to smack yourself in the face.

Especially as Tenya raised his eyebrow yet again which caused you to latch onto your bottom lip, silencing your laugh. “S-Sorry,” you replied before focusing your attention down the hall where Tenya took another turn before he came to a stop in front of the restroom door.

Despite the fact the dormitory was empty, Tenya carefully balanced you in his arms before he extended one hand out and knocked. Once he was sure the restroom was actually and truly empty, he slid the door open and stepped inside.

“Here we are,” he said as he slowly placed you onto the toilet. Ensuring the lid was down first as he didn’t want another uncomfortable or awkward situation to occur, much less put you in harm's way again.

“Forgive me, but may I excuse myself for a short moment? I wish to change into something more appropriate. I shall only be gone for five minutes,” he explained, yet again bowing as he rambled off. Your hands reached down, clenching to the outside of the toilet seat. You were mindful of your cut finger.

“Uh, sure Iida. N-No problem!” you said, knowing your cheeks were still warm and continuing to rise in heat. You tried taking a deep breath but ended up coughing a few times and tried to play it off by glancing around the bathroom.

Maybe if you distract your thoughts away from Tenya, you'd remain calm. But Tenya seemed rather confused by the fact you coughed and reached up to cup his chin, tapping it a few times as he observed you. He wanted to ask if you were alright, but perhaps you were still getting over the shock of what happened.

"Thank you, please remain here." he bowed politely before exiting the bathroom, leaving you alone for a few minutes. You fidgeted some and ran your hands up and down your thighs. Trying to get rid of the butterflies in your stomach before you glanced at your finger. It didn't look too bad, apart from the dried blood.

You may have gotten too lost in your thoughts considering you jumped when three loud knocks sounded, your hand immediately reached up to fist into the front of your hero suit. “Y/n,” came Tenya’s voice, “may I come in?” he questioned and you dropped your hand. But your heart was still racing from the small scare.

“Uh, yeah!” you replied and watched as the door slid open and Tenya walked in. You swallowed as you glanced over him from head to toe. He was now wearing a plain white top with an unbuttoned long-sleeved blue plaid shirt over it.

This was accompanied by loose jeans that were neatly folded up at his ankles. “Is something wrong?” he questioned, more than likely realizing that you were staring at him. “Ah! Oh no, no!” you said, waving your arms in front of you like mad.

“I just...um…” you paused and looked down, trying to figure out what you could possibly say. You reached up, rubbing the back of your head. “You l-look very nice!” you managed to stutter out which, in turn, surprised Tenya.

He took a half step back and his cheeks grew a faint red color. “Oh, I see. Thank you very much,” he stated, hands coming down press against the sides of his thighs and his shoulders squared. He gave another bow before he approached you, carefully kneeling down but not allowing himself to touch the floor.

Then he held his hand out, “May I see your injured finger?” he questioned and you stared at that awaiting hand before slowly reaching out for it. His touch was gentle but that firm urgency was still there as he looked over the cut and the small amount of dried blood that had stained your hand.

“Please wait a moment,” he said as he gently placed your hand back down, resting it against your thigh. You watched as he rose to his feet and walked to the nearby closet where he grabbed three hand towels. “I believe we need to properly clean your hand first,” he said just before turning on the faucet.

The sound of water hitting the porcelain surface echoed through the room and caused you to shift on the toilet seat. You watched as Tenya began to wash his hands before using one of the three towels to dry them off. He then tossed it into the nearby laundry basket, you watched as he wet another hand towel and turned to you.

Once more he kneeled in front of you and presented his hand which you took. “Please accept my apologies once again, and forgive my assumptions. But I believe you are uncomfortable in your current state," he said, referring to the fact you were still covered in dirt and there were some rips that now needed to be repaired on your hero suit.

He began to clean your hand, dripping a fair amount of water everywhere as he started with your knuckles and palm. You could see the dark smears of dirt against the white-colored towel and tensed up when Tenya took your finger.

Making sure he was using a clean part of the towel as he wiped the cut and dried blood away. He only paused for a moment to glance at you. “Forgive me, is it tender?” he questioned before his attention turned back to your finger.

The cut itself looked deep and irritated, the skin around the opening bright red and slightly inflamed. “Only when you touch it,” you responded. “I will be more gentle,” he promised before once again getting up.

He tossed the dirty towel into the laundry basket before washing his hands yet again and grabbed the last towel which he used to dry your hand off as opposed to his own. “I’m going to clean it properly now,” he stated before disposing of the last towel and turned back to the closet.

You could hear the slight rummaging sound, and soft clinks as Tenya pulled out the items one by one. A bag of cotton balls, a box of bandaids, disinfectant, and a single packet of antibacterial gel were now laid across the bathroom counter.

You blinked, “Iida, do you...really need all that to clean my cut?” you questioned and Tenya raised his eyebrow as he glanced over each item. He then brought his hand up to his chin, cupping it as he thought.

“Do you believe I missed something perhaps?” he questioned and you couldn’t help but chuckle which caught Tenya’s attention. “Pardon? Did I say something amusing?” you leaned back. “Oh,” that’s right, Tenya didn’t favor when others laughed at him or at least when he believed they were laughing at him.

“No, I...just wanted to say thank you, Iida,” it was best not to provoke him. Despite knowing that it would take more than a laugh or insult to break his serious and otherwise calm personality. Still, you didn't feel like starting an argument or confrontation with him.

“You’re quite welcome, however, I do not believe you should be giving me any form of thanks,” he said as he pulled out a cotton ball and proceeded to wet it with the disinfectant. “This may cause an uncomfortable stinging sensation," he said as he turned to you, the cotton ball held securely between his thumb and index finger.

"Please let me know if it becomes too much. I would not want to cause any further harm to you,” he said as he once again took your hand and began to gently dab the wounded area with the cotton ball. You watched as it fizzled and popped before a white foam began to fill the cut.

You clenched your jaw, it stung somewhat. But it wasn’t anything that could make you cry out. “It...doesn’t hurt that bad,” you responded and Tenya glanced at you, allowing a moment to pass before he nodded.

Then he turned his attention back to your finger, applying pressure to the cotton ball before dragging it along the length of the cut. “It only seems minorly irritated,” he noted before he got up once more and threw the dirty cotton ball into the trash.

He then carefully grabbed the small packet of antibacterial gel and poured a small amount onto a new cotton ball. “Please keep still,” you held your breath as he rubbed the gel around your cut, it was almost attractive watching Tenya like this.

But, he always had a tendency to be very caring. At least with those he considered to be close with. You wondered for a moment if that’s the only thing he saw you as or if there was any chance you could somehow make him see you in a different light.

Once he threw the last cotton ball away, he grabbed a bandaid and carefully unwrapped it. “Hold your finger out please,” he instructed and of course, you followed through. Extending your index finger out enough for him to carefully wrap the bandage around it.

“I believe that’s on correctly, does it feel too restrictive?” he questioned and you spread your fingers as you looked at the bandaid. You flexed your finger, making sure you could move it properly before you nodded.

“It’s fine Tenya…” you then looked over at the box of bandaids, “but…” you paused. “But?” Tenya questioned, pushing you to complete your sentence. “Are you unsatisfied?” he questioned as he stepped closer to you, invading your space.

You latched onto your lip, trying not to make a noise as Tenya leaned over. “Uh…” your breath hitched as his hand came to rest on your shoulder and he appeared to be looking you over. “Do you have any other injuries on your person I am not aware of?” he questioned.

“Pardon my touch,” he said before you felt his hand thread into your hair. You swallowed before leaning away, somewhat in a panic which was evident enough by the way you held your hands up. “N-No!” you suddenly exclaimed and Tenya immediately stepped back, creating a fair amount of distance between himself and you.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, I did not mean to invade your personal space, and I-” you shook your head, stumbling to your feet. “I-Iida!” you stuttered out, “I was...I was just going to say that…” you blinked and lowered your hands to your sides.

Your gaze was to the floor and you knew he would notice how red your cheeks were. “Hm?” he reached up to grab the left side of his glasses, moving them slightly as if trying to correct his vision. “Then nothing is wrong?” you almost felt bad for confusing him and closed your eyes.

Another deep breath came before you spoke again, “I...just wanted another one,” you sheepishly said and lifted your head as you opened your eyes, catching Tenya’s confused expression. “I...I’m afraid I do not understand, you required one bandage for your cut,” he said as he raised his arm.

“Are you most certain you do not have another injury? I will not be angered if you state that you, in fact, do and require more medical attention!” you stepped back and watched him chop that hand through the air. It was such a repetitive movement.

But Tenya did it with ease, you wondered if his arm ever got sore. “Well, I…” you turned your head, once again looking away from the boy in front of you. “I would...feel better if I had another one,” you explained and Tenya blinked, his movements coming to a halt.

“I….are you certain it would make you feel better?” he questioned before you shyly glanced back at him, but remained silent as you nodded. Tenya’s eyebrows came down and you could hear a soft humming coming from the inside of his throat.

“Heh,” you gave a sheepish smile, maybe he was thinking too hard again? You slowly raised your hand, extending your bandaged finger out to him. “Hm?” such an action seemed to have caught his attention, but he was unsure of what he was supposed to do.

“Are...may I ask why you feel the need to present your finger?” he asked and you knew that there was a possibility of rejection or for Tenya to laugh at you for what you were about to ask next. “Well, a-actually can you…” the words you wanted to speak seemed stuck and Tenya stepped closer, reaching out to gently take your hand.

“Please, do not be afraid to ask me anything," he seemed to be repeating himself again. "I assure you, I would not find something you wish to say or ask to be humorous in any matter,” once more that deep tone was associated with his voice and it caused you to shiver.

You felt your mouth go dry, though you knew you could trust Tenya to keep his word. “O-Okay,” you said, though you knew your shaky voice held some uncertainty to it. “Would you...or c-can you...kiss it?” you questioned and almost immediately you felt him release your hand.

More than likely surprised by your bold question. “I...f-forgive me, I believe I must have misheard you. Please repeat your question,” you took note of Tenya’s wide eyes, clenched jaw, and overall unwillingness to go through with what you asked.

But you knew you’d never get anywhere if you didn’t push through the limitations in front of you. “I asked…” you began as you took a step forward, now standing only inches away from Tenya. You raised your hand to present your finger once more.

“Could you kiss my finger?” Tenya’s stiff posture seemed to soften, but you noticed how flushed he was. “I...I do not understand, I have taken the proper steps to clean it and you assured me you weren’t in any pain an-” you frowned before deciding to shove your hand in his face.

“Please Iida,” you might as well try begging. “I know you cleaned it and everything, but a kiss would make it feel better too,” you insisted and took note of the soft revving sound, more than likely coming from Tenya’s engines. Was he nervous? It certainly seemed that way, especially with how he stuttered out his response.

“I uh...I am afraid that’s too i-inappropriate and I do not b-believe even if this was a-appropriate in the context that would allow such an affectionate or o-otherwise romantic f-form of action t-that I would know h-how to-” you pressed your bandaged finger against his lips and tried to resist chuckling as you watched him tremble in response.

It was a surprise that his glasses weren’t fogging up with how deep red his cheeks were beginning to get. “It’s not inappropriate Iida,” you tried to reassure him. “It’s something that brings a lot of people comfort. It’s more of the thought behind the action. So please?” you questioned yet again as you removed your finger from his lips and held it out in hopes he’d follow through with doing what you wanted.

But you took note of how his eyebrows were slanted, and the way he looked at your finger as if it was something new and foreign to him. Actually, had Tenya ever done something like this before? Had he kissed anyone or anything?

You knew it wasn’t your place to ask, but you got a little concerned when you glanced down and watched as Tenya’s hands folded into loose fights which shook slightly. Then he brought those hands up, his palms facing out. His head was turned and his eyes slipped closed, he looked tense.

“If you continue to insist that you will feel better if I were to ‘kiss’ your finger. Then perhaps I have no choice,” he said, and you could tell he was a little annoyed as he lowered his hands and turned his head to face you once more.

But a sense of relief came when Tenya opened his eyes and reached up to gently take your hand. Then, he leaned forward. “I will try to be gentle, I can imagine your finger is still sore. Yes?” he questioned, but you were too busy watching as he guided your finger up to his mouth.

Then came the soft warmth of his lips which caused a tingle to course from the tip of your finger to the top of your head and down to the end of your toes. The faint echo of your pounding heart sounded in your ears and much like Tenya, you felt your cheeks heat up.

They were a dark shade of pink by the time Tenya pulled away. “I...trust your finger feels better now, yes?” he questioned and you swallowed, taking note of how his glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“Uh...y-yeah...but,” you glanced back to the sink counter, “c-can I have another?” Tenya blinked. “A-Another? But I just followed through with kissing your finger as you requested and-” you shook your head. “No I mean...can I have another bandaid now?” you questioned as you pointed to the box that remained sitting on the counter.

Tenya frowned and gently released your hand before crossing his arms, “I believe one is quite enough for you,” he stated and you knew by his tone that you shouldn’t try to argue. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t. “Please?” you folded your hands together to resemble a begging position.

“Just one more!” he let out a soft growl. “I do not wish to waste the bandaids as our classmates might be in need of them as well,” he said before he reached over to take the box. “Come on Iida,” you decided to press as he turned to put the box of bandages back into the closet.

But, you reached out to grab his shoulder and a loud sigh came. The angry look he gave somewhat scared you, it was a rare sight to see Tenya scowl. “If you continue to insist yet again that this item is something that you need to feel better,” he began, “I will allow it for this one instance,” he said as he placed the bandages back onto the counter.

“But this is the last bandage, do you understand?” he said as he pulled one out, holding it between his fingers as he gave you a soft glare. “Uh…” you felt your stomach twist before you nodded. “Yeah, I understand,” you replied before Tenya began to peel back the paper that surrounded the bandage.

“Where would you like me to place this one?” he questioned, “Oh!” you hadn’t thought of that and quickly looked at your hand. “How about…” you held your hand in front of him, wiggling your ring finger. “Very well…” Tenya said as he stepped forward and yet again, wrapped a bandage around your finger.

You couldn’t help but smile as he turned to throw the excess paper away. “Thank you, Iida,” you said before looking at the box and quickly snatched another bandage out of it. You peeled off the outer wrapping and carelessly allowed it to fall to the floor.

“Hm?” Tenya glanced over his shoulder at you, almost suspiciously and you hid the bandage behind your back in hopes it would deter that suspicious glance of his. It seemed to fool him for the moment and he once more walked over to you.

It was almost embarrassing how tall Tenya was in comparison to yourself, but he was one of the tallest in your class. But at the same time, it was heartwarming. You know many outsiders could be intimidated by Tenya, but once you got to know him.

You’d find that he had a soft and caring side to him which was often perfectly balanced with his more serious and heroic side. Everything he did seemed to be with purpose and in a way that was admirable. “Allow me to walk you to your room,” he offered his arm for you to take and you glanced at.

“Actually Iida...um...I have something to tell you,” your fingers grazed across the bandage you held behind your back. “Hm?” he raised his eyebrow, “Of course, I assure you I am the most attentive listener,” you smiled, that’s kind of what you hoped for. You raised your free hand, using your finger to motion him to lean over.

He seemed confused at first but leaned down to your height as you wanted. You then brought your other hand forward, quickly peeling back the strips that covered the bottom side of the bandage. “Y/n!” Tenya exclaimed as if you committed some unforgivable sin, then came his hand.

Once more chopping through the air with urgency. “I believe I stated that I did not wish to waste any more bandages that are otherwise unnecessary!” you expected as much from Tenya and there was one thing you could do to stop him.

“Mm!” he suddenly flinched back when he realized the bandage you were previously holding was now placed over his lips. “Mmmm!” he mumbled, bringing his hands up to remove it but you quickly grabbed them which caused his eyes to widen.

You then offered a kind smile, though a few chuckles accompanied it before you leaned close. Pressing your lips against his mouth. Though that bandage did separate you from actually kissing his lips. But Tenya looked surprised, downright thrown off by your actions.

You knew there were countless thoughts running through his head, especially as you stepped away and proceeded to bow politely. “Thank you for saving me, Iida.” you grinned as you walked past him, taking some amusement in his flushed and furiously confused expression.

#tenya x reader #iida x reader #bnha x reader

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

There You Are

PART 2: ‘Finally, You’re Back’

Karl Heisenberg x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mild spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Romance, Mild Angst

Summary: It’s the life before the nightmare. It’s the breath of fresh air before the pollution. The sunshine before the storm. And there they are, standing in the warmth of a sunny spring day in that Romanian village, their meeting coincidental yet fated at the same time.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! I’m sorry for the long wait but here it finally is - you request turned into a fic! Also, big thanks to that other Anon who gave me the idea of modifying the fic in a way where it’s now gonna be a two-parter, a sort of the before the nightmare and the aftermath of Heisenberg’s turning. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the read. Love, Vy ❤

Because one is incapable of expecting the unexpected One can never see what the future may hold One can never know what storms await One can never fully prepare And neither did he Because he could’ve never guessed Never known He could only see so far ahead He could only plan so much Yet he always thought he’d run free Let the winds and rivers guide him forward Never did he think his fate would uproot him into a nightmare He had no idea what to expect He had no idea he’d never be the same again Hell, to him it was the first and last time But to his hope it was a lightning spark Praying for more Regardless, in that moment When eyes met eyes, all he could think was... ‘There you are’

And there they were, standing in the almost completely melted snow on the outskirts of the Romanian village, the shy sun rays shimmering on their skin, making their hair glow. Their gaze gave away nothing yet so much simultaneously. Their crystal, shining yet still tired orbs were busy taking in their surroundings, their back turned to him. They didn’t have to face him for him to be able to guess they weren’t from around here. Truth be told, there were several clues that let him know: the clothes, the shoes, the sun-kissed skin - which there’s no way they could’ve obtained from the gloomy sunless winter in the village- but most important, the dead giveaway was the huge rucksack burdening their back and shoulders.

‘A traveler‘, he thought, ‘They’re probably lost. There’s no way they landed in this shithole on purpose.‘

The contemplation of whether to address them or not ends shortly and not really willingly - it mostly has to do with the fact that his thoughts were momentarily shut up when the traveler’s eyes met his.

Even with the amount of distance between them, something in those E/C pools glinting in the faint sunlight while also reflecting the brightness of the last remaining snow on the ground stole his breath away and paralyzed him. He was rendered helpless and unmoving from simple eye contact with this stranger.

But they weren’t done surprising him with the overwhelming power they unknowingly possessed.

They, out of the blue, shot him a smile that could only be described as blinding. One that sent his heart racing, eyes widening ever so slightly with disbelief. He was rarely offered such a kind reaction upon being seen by someone. A smile - not a mocking or menacing one - was an expression he rarely saw directed towards him.

‘They don’t know you, idiot!‘ He scolds himself mentally, ‘They don’t know what kind of lowlife piece of shit you are.‘

Yeah, they don’t. And they’re never gonna find out

He was willing to pull every lie from the book to keep his miserable life as a nearly homeless, poorly treated worker of three jobs hidden from this stranger. He didn’t want to see pity in those eyes nor sympathy in their smile.

He didn’t want things to change. Though, he simultaneously didn’t know what ‘things’ he didn’t want changed.

And so, he decided to create some, knowing full-well they would be temporary.

“Need any help? You lost or something?“ He calls out to them as he makes his way down from the cliff and into the large field where they’re standing.

They shake their head in response, loose strands of hair forming a curtain over their features as they do so, their smile never fading, “Nope, not at all. I’m exactly where I wanna be.”

“What could you possibly wanna see here?“ He asks, now without having to belch his lungs out due to the smaller distance between them.

They turn away from him, pointing to the monstrosity of a building he’s more than familiar with, towering over the village and dominating the outskirts. Having been abandoned for years now, the factory has become a home for rats, roaches, bats and Karl Heisenberg. The young man runs the risk of having it all crumble atop him while he sleeps the three hours he’s allowed each night. He’s not usually embarrassed by this fact but he doesn’t proudly announce it either. Sure, some people who pick on him and are determined to make his life a living hell have spread rumors about his place of stay but no one dares go into the factory to fact-check. It’s menacing exterior looking to be straight from a horror movie or a nightmare is more than enough to drive any person away, but the haunting noises the place harbors accompanied by the many creatures that produce said noises just add to the fear factor among the villagers when it comes to the century old structure.

“That.“ The traveler says, looking almost dreamily at the building so many people turn to with disgust and fear. “Would it be trespassing to enter? I really wanna have a look inside.“

Forgetting to mask his confused and surprised expression, Karl is caught with that wide-eyed, mouth-slightly-agape look on his face which sends the traveler in a fit of laughter.

“I know I probably sound crazy saying that, but abandoned places are sort of my thing, you know. I can’t simply pass by one without going in and doing a literal scavenger hunt. Not that I ever find much apart from graffiti and crap all over the place, but it’s worth having a look. Especially inside a place that looks that old. And man is it huge.“ No, his assumption was right the first time - their eyes do indeed get dreamy when they turn to observe the giant structure further down the overgrown path.

Who gives him the right to tell them no?

“Lucky I found you then.“ He says, shedding every last bit of confusion and replacing it with enthusiasm, a wide smile plastered on his face, “Follow me, I know all the entrances.“

He needn’t tell them twice. Hell, he barely had to finish his sentence before they literally took flight as they rushed - as much as they could with the heavy backpack they were carrying - towards the factory, taking his hand to drag him along, never stopping their river of gratitude the whole way there.

It awoke something in him, something warm and genuine that made him want to get to know this sunshine in human form better. He hasn’t had a chance to smile plenty in his life, never having a reason to do so. But during this less than five minute interaction, he hasn’t been able to contain the grin brought upon him as a side effect of their own happiness.

“I’m Karl, by the way!“ He informed them as they stomped their way up the path.

“Nice to meet you, Karl!“ They called back, giving him a brief glance over their shoulder, “My name’s Y/N.“

‘Y/N‘ the name echoed and repeated itself in his head, intensifying that feeling dangerously close to adoration.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.“

* * *

Dust and dirt had stuck to their clothes, practically merging with the textile by the time the pair left the factory to see the setting sun once again. The darkness and dinginess of the factory periodically made them forget how beautiful the outside world was. The place was filthy but what Y/N didn’t know is that it had been in a worse state before. Before Karl started staying there.

The young man always had a fascination with mechanical engineering, having met many workers who worked in the factory prior to its closing. They often times snuck him in so he could admire the work process the different types of machinery they had in there - many of which still remained in the factory covered in rust and spiderwebs. That being said, he took it upon himself to clean up a bit, treat the powerful mechanical giants with the respect and decency a machine of their kind deserved. Some he even miraculously repaired - probably the biggest achievement in his life - but he was yet to put them to good use, given that he still didn’t know how to properly operate them and what their true purpose was.

“That was incredible!“ Y/N cheered once the two had stepped onto the grass outside in the field again, “I can’t believe I almost started debating whether to go or not after so many of the villagers tried to scare me.“ They turned to give the factory one more lingering look, “Damn, I wish I could go back in there again to see if we missed anything. Unfortunately, my time’s limited.“ They sigh, checking their wristwatch before sparing the setting sun a look as well. “And it’s almost up.“

The knot that suddenly appeared in Karl’s throat made him choke on the oxygen he had inhaled. The worry of what those words of Y/N’s meant made his stomach turn.

But, before he could ask what they meant, they gave him an apologetic smile, their eyes still shining, but saddened now, “I have to get going. I have a different destination I need to reach by dawn.“ They sighed heavily, looking down at their boots. Karl opened his mouth to say something, but he found himself to be at a loss for words. He felt hollow and empty and couldn’t bring himself to stomach what he had been told. However, Y/N once again beat him to the opportunity of saying something. Their head snapped back up, their eyes meeting his, now glimmering with the glow he had grown to think of as familiar at that point. “However, that doesn’t mean I won’t be back.“ They took him by the wrist and brought his hand up, opening his clenched palm to drop a small chain in it. “Growing up, I was taught to not expect people to return things you give them but to go and take them back yourself. And so, Karl, I’m giving you this necklace and promising I’ll be back to retrieve it.“ They closes his palm again, letting his arm fall by his side. While he still had only processed half of all that happened when they spoke up again, “Ok, so now I ask of you to stay here, not see me off, not follow me, just stand right here. Or you can turn around and walk away too, that’d be even better. Can you do that for me?” They asked, cringing suddenly, “Sorry, I’m bad at goodbyes.“

He faintly nodded, unable to get any words out yet again. That was probably a good thing, cause there was a huge risk that he would’ve asked them to stay if he spoke.

Taking his nod as a positive response, they gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning around and walking off in the direction they came from earlier, leaving him behind. Karl wanted to force himself to walk in the opposite direction like they had told him to, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off them. He stood there, heart aching, watching them go. All the while squeezing the dog tag necklace tightly in his hand. The physical proof of the person that reminded him how it felt to feel.

The physical proof of the promise that they’d come back.

They’d come back to him.

He’d see them.

And he’d once again think to himself...

There you are, finally, you’re back

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obae-me · 4 years

Note

Hi! If your inbox is open, I'd like to request a scenario with all (or any) of the demon brothers, + undatables reacting to a blind MC? Like, none of them expected to have a blind human and Devildom and they have to revamp everything to make it as safe for MC as possible. Can be she/her or they/them pronouns for MC. Bonus points if MC is extremely talkative and won't shut up lmao. Thank you!

I’m still learning how I best want to write the Undateables, so I’m sorry if they’re a bit lacking. This was really wholesome to write, thank you for your request! 💜

Lucifer

When first summoned down to the Devildom, MC looked more disoriented than he would’ve expected. “Where am I? Who are you guys?” They hadn’t managed to look at Diavolo yet, even while he was speaking to them. They already put him in a bad mood.

“Didn’t you learn its bad manners to ignore the people that are talking to you? Look at Lord Diavolo while he’s speaking.” Lucifer growled, leaving MC with an exasperated expression.

“I’m BLIND.”

Error.

They were blind?? Humans were so fragile that they could just lose their eyesight?? Permanently?! He’s already got several new grey hairs. He’d have to entirely change up the house, he’d need to have someone with them at all times. How would they read? How would they get school work done?

MC has to explain to him that they’ve been this way for a long time, so they can handle themselves. They’ll have to tell him about things they use to help them out, like a cane for starters. They’ll tell him later how they best do schoolwork, but he’s already busy contacting someone about a cane.

It doesn’t matter what MC says, he now feels obligated to keep them under his watch as much as possible. He’s responsible for keeping them safe after all, and he can’t feel relaxed until he can confirm that they’re okay.

Although he did find out that MC was as talkative and feisty as a human could be. If things went too quiet they’d quickly fill up the empty space with chatter. Not to mention anytime he, or any demon for that matter, went into demon form, the intimidation factor was lost. MC never budged. They didn’t mind standing up to him, which annoyed him greatly, but absolutely blew his mind. How such a tiny human, who didn’t have a major part of functioning, could easily stand up to a demon was beyond him.

When MC first asked if it was okay to ‘see’ him, he had no idea what they meant, but was curious to see where it would lead. He wasn’t aware that MC knew any magic. He didn’t expect MC to come over and gently touch his face, running their fingers gingerly over his features. MC politely asked if he could show his true self, and he agreed. MC drifted their way up to his horns, feeling the texture and shape. They had an expression of awe on their face, probably because they now knew that it was real, he wasn’t human. They struggled to find these supposed wings of his, and with one of his gloved hands, Lucifer took their wrist and guided MC along. They made a little gasp as the feathers brushed against their skin.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, his demon form was supposed to strike shock and fear into people. He was supposed to be respected. He was supposed to be above this. So how was it he was sitting here, MC running their hands all over him, and he was the one who was shocked and speechless. He hated how MC had lost their eyesight, but in this one moment he was grateful that they couldn’t see his reddened face with such an embarrassing expression plastered over it.

Mammon

“What do you mean they can’t see? It’s not that dark in the Devildom. Oi, human, just open your eyes, don’t you know how seeing works?!...Oh...Oooh...”

He had a less than grand first impression when he first met MC, and to be honest, it kept getting worse before it got better. He didn’t know when to shut his mouth. He tried asking Lucifer if they could get a different human, one that wasn’t broken. He must’ve somehow thought that whispering from only about a foot away would keep MC from hearing him.

He didn’t get a different human, he was stuck with them, and he was going to receive a particularly severe punishment that night for how poorly he treated MC. He was in a bad mood, not to mention out of his mind with panic.

“I don’t know what to do with people who can’t see? Can we fix ya? Surely there’s some magic here that’ll make you good as new!”

He tried spells, he tried potions, he even paid a fortune to one of the Devildom’s best doctors. None of his antics worked, and out of all the brothers, Mammon took the longest to process that this was how MC was. It was a part of them. They would be like this forever.

He’ll stay by their side constantly, escorting them by the arm and hand, talking their ear off about this and that to keep them distracted. It causes MC to laugh about it every time. Who needs a seeing eye dog when you’ve got a wonderfully trained seeing eye Mammon. Sometimes he would even pick them up to go up and down stairs if he felt they would be too dangerous.

Anytime they’re at any sort of store, MC will have to touch almost everything, and if their hands brush across anything they like, even if only for it’s tactile nature, Mammon will buy it for them at the drop of a hat. It’ll drive Lucifer a bit crazy over the fact that MC won’t ever have a need for most of the things Mammon buys, but he’ll not bother them about it if he sees it makes MC happy even just to hold it.

MC is super talkative, but it’s typically just to fill empty dark space and make things seem more comfortable, but when they’re with Mammon, they don’t need to say a word. He does all the talking, and MC’s grown accustomed to the sound of his voice. It’s so different from his other brothers, the mannerisms he uses and the slight accent to it. Mammon still doesn’t realize that, for this reason, MC can single him out among the crowds at RAD, or how Mammon can never seem to sneak up on them. MC loves how loud he is. No matter how quiet he tries being, MC can always pick him out of the darkness, for them, he’s always there. Mammon will never say it, but he loves how his human knows him apart from everyone else.

Levi

“Huh, so you don’t watch anime, what a typical normie.”

“I actually can’t watch anything, just for your information.”

Fatality.

He knows the concept of blindness from anime and manga, but it almost seemed as foreign to him as magic seemed to MC. Typically in the stories he saw, it was never permanent, always the cause of some curse or spell or even a fight! MC had gone through none of that, it was what it was.

He almost found it relaxing for a moment, because he felt a bit more confident in himself. MC couldn’t see what an ugly shut-in looked like. However, his moods were quickly dashed when MC tripped over an empty can he had lying on the floor. He caught them from falling but quickly went into a state of despair. He was a dirty trashy shut-in. Lucifer would later find that Levi now had his room clean of trash at all times, his floor spotless.

Levi would absolutely cry, and I mean cry, over the fact that MC would never be able to fully enjoy anime or manga or video games. They could maybe enjoy some Dubbed shows but it wouldn’t be the same. If MC hangs out with him, Levi will give them the full commentator experience. He’ll explain what’s going on in his games or shows in hopes MC can still enjoy his favorite form of entertainment.

The first time in his Demon form, MC stepped on his tail in attempt to get to his wings. He yelped in shock. MC was vastly confused. What was that? Where was his wings? Lucifer and Mammon had wings so where were his? He hated being compared to them like that. He couldn’t fly, he couldn’t look nearly as intimidating. No he didn’t have wings, he just has this clunky ugly tail. MC grabbed his tail, making him turn bright red. They ran their fingers over his scales, petting it, pulling it out to see how long it was. MC endlessly talked about how cool it was, and how it felt amazing to touch. Lucifer and Mammon didn’t have a tail. Levi never felt envious of not having wings ever again.

Satan

He can’t believe his brothers didn’t know that humans were capable of being blind. They were extremely fragile creatures but somehow were heartier and more stubborn than they looked, capable of thriving despite everything they go through.

He didn’t know everything about being blind, since it never seemed to come up often enough for him to need to learn about. So you can bet that in just the first few days MC was there, he thoroughly studied up on anything he thought would help him.

He was surprised to find that there was a form of reading available for people who had lost their sight. He had never heard about Braille before this. As a demon who wanted to learn as many languages and reading forms as possible, he was angry he missed something like this.

He wasn’t as angry, however, when MC offered to help teach him how to read Braille if he helped them with their schoolwork and studies. The Devildom school was surprisingly accommodating but until Diavolo and Lucifer finished sorting things out, they couldn’t read any of their schoolwork.

He usually preferred silence, but he didn’t mind when MC would come in his room and feel comfortable enough to talk in detail everything that had happened that day. In return, he liked when MC would listen intently as his narrating voice filled up the room while he would read his favorite stories to them. He loved the way their face would crinkle when he’d attempt to voice a particular character. They put their hand on his chest and would beg him to do it again with a laugh. He’d attempt the line again, MC feeling the deep rumble in his chest. Reading would now not be the same without them.

The more he got to know them, the more the heat in his chest over their blank non-focused eyes grew hotter. How could they not see? How could someone like them be deprived of something like that? He couldn’t show them art, photographs, the beauty of the Devildom’s stars. MC assured him that it was alright, anytime they wanted to know what something looked like, they would ask him. Anything he described sounded like poetry. With him around, his words would be enough.

Asmo

Blind, as in they couldn’t see anything, see him?! His radiant shine? His picture perfect features? His allure? They wouldn’t see any of that? He was astounded. He was upset. He was dramatically depressed. He got over it pretty quickly, though, he’s very attractive yes, but all of his other qualities were just as attractive.

He’ll help tweak their uniform, he’ll buy them clothes that not only feel amazing, but look amazing. If touch is important to them, he’ll get them lotions, skincare products, anything they wanted to keep them well taken care of. Their hands will never worry about being dry.

He loves when MC touches his face to know what he looks like. He’ll use this as an excuse. “How do you know it’s Asmo? I might have put a spell on my voice, double check.” He’ll put his hands over theirs while they amuse him and feel the details on his face down to the bridge of his nose.

One particularly pleasant evening for Asmo, he goes on and on about new clothes he bought, and then brings MC into it.

“Right right? I think it’ll look ravishing on me, the color matches MC’s eyes.” MC smiles and states that they had forgotten their eyes were that color. Asmo sits there for a moment before shrieking, standing up so fast his chair falls over. “You don’t even know what you look like!”

Of course MC had a pretty general idea of what they looked like, but yes he was right for the most part. They didn’t understand why Asmo was so shocked about it. However, Asmo refuses to let this go, and he takes them to his bedroom describing MC down to the bone. He’ll tell them what their eye color reminds him of, the particular way their eyelashes curl, how their complexion looked under the moonlight. He’ll go on and on and on, not realizing that he’s never ever spoke so long about someone else before, so MC lets him continue. They’ve never cared about appearances before, but the way Asmo talks about them makes them cozy on the inside. He made them feel like the most gorgeous thing on earth.

They’ll then change it up, making Asmo close their eyes as they talk about all the things about him that they love. The way the air smells around him when he comes into the room. The way his tone raises up when he’s excited about something. The way his footsteps sound on hard surfaces. They adore how one side of his hair is longer than the other. They love his presence. Asmo is dumbfounded, no one has ever described him in that way before. He’ll melt and might call a doctor for this strange new feeling in his chest.

Beel

They can’t see anything? Can they at least eat?? Well then it’s not the end of the world. If MC had somehow been deprived of taste, he would’ve really been upset. Food doesn’t have to look great to taste great. Still, the fact that they couldn’t see made the Devildom even more dangerous, and he didn’t want anything to happen to them. He couldn’t let anyone get hurt around him, not again.

He’s among the most considerate of the brothers even though he’s not used to being around someone that can’t see. He’s real worried he’ll hurt MC, so he’s always extra careful. He’ll announce that he’s beside them even though they heard his footsteps near them and could feel the heat coming off of his body. He’ll always ask them first if it’s okay to touch them so he can help them out. He’s even extra wary about hugs at first, what if he just...breaks them even more? As time goes by he learns he doesn’t need to walk on eggshells.

He finds it a fun game to let them try to figure out what stuff he made for them before they eat it, more times than not, they figure it out. Then he’ll eat it with them, unnecessarily guiding the fork to their mouth.

If Mammon isn’t by their side, it’s usually Beel who’s next. If he’s not busy with sports or working out, he’ll stick around by MC wherever they want to go. However, it’s usually MC who stays by him whenever he sees something tasty to make sure he doesn’t run off.

MC knew he worked out, but had always envisioned him to be like a big teddy bear. It wasn’t until MC asked to feel him until they understood just how strong Beel was. Under his soft clothes, they felt his tough muscles. He was built like a brick, no matter where they felt him, his arms, his sides, he was completely different than they had expected. His face was soft at least. His hair fun to play with. In his demon form adored touching his horns, exclaiming that they were perfect for fitting doughnuts. He didn’t need to know that, now Lucifer’s going to have to question why in the world Beel has doughnuts stacked on his horns. His wings felt silky and surprisingly fragile despite how strong he felt everywhere else. They were sure they weren’t as weak as they felt, but it let MC know that Beel was still soft. MC couldn’t stop gawking over how big and strong Beel was, pretending to punch him in the gut even though they could probably punch him for real and he wouldn’t feel it.

All Beel wanted was to tell MC how strong he thought they were.

Belphie

At first, he couldn’t believe that, somehow, they had chosen someone who couldn’t even see to be a part of the program. He felt like this supported his idea that it was a terrible idea to begin with, but fortunately, he thought, this made it easy for him to manipulate MC’s actions. How guilty this made him feel, afterwards.

He’d stay silent and sneak around MC, feeling that it was best if they didn’t even know he was there. They knew where he was, no matter how hard he tried. They could follow his dragging footsteps as he lazily walked through the house. His sighs and breathing were also very distinguishable.

They didn’t start getting to know each other till MC was wandering through the house, trying to still burn the number of steps in their mind in this massive place. Their cane found a strange obstacle in the middle of the floor, something that wasn’t usually there. They poked it, it was surprisingly soft. They got down on their knees and reached over, feeling cozy clothes and skin. They found a face and traced it over. It wasn’t anyone they had memorized, so it must’ve been Belphie. Made sense that he was the only one crazy enough to sleep in the middle of the floor. They loved how soft he felt, softer than any of his other brothers. Even his hair was like a velvety down you’d find in a pillow.

They knew he had woken up from his nap. The little muscles in his face were twitching, and his breathing was strained. He was trying to pretend he was asleep, but MC just kept going. They traced down his slender arms to his hands. They were free of any callouses or cuts. They took his hand and grasped it firmly in their own.

“I forgive you, you don’t need to avoid me anymore, or pretend that you’re asleep.” They heard his breathing go still, and then he sat up.

“You knew?”

“I’m not as stupid as people think I am. I may not be able to see, but I can still figure things out just fine.” They gently whacked him with their cane. “So I know you’ve been sneaking around me.”

Belphie didn’t think they wanted him around, after everything he’d done. He was still surprised his brothers kept him around at the end of the day. He just sighed. Emotions were exhausting.

MC felt for his waist and then gave him a tight hug. They knew what it meant to be ashamed of you you were, of the things you’d done, but it didn’t matter. They wanted bygones to be bygones, and they wanted to learn about Belphie for who he really was, not what grief had made him out to be.

MC now finds a new lump in their bed every so often. A lump that moans when you lie on it apparently. Naps are pleasant with him around. MC loves sleeping with their hands in his hair.

MC can’t dream, not in the same way other people do, so Belphie does enough dreaming for the both of them. He’ll share stories of rippling meadows and drifting clouds. He’ll make sure they hear all sorts of pleasant things before they fall asleep. He hopes he can make it up to them.

Diavolo

Figuring out MC was blind didn’t come as a shock, he knew they were after all. He wouldn’t choose someone without knowing the important things about them, and having no eyesight definitely checked out as important.

Knowing him, he did this as a test. He was testing out how the brothers would react and if they indeed could keep MC safe. If a blind human could make it through an entire year in the realm of demons, it would be more than a major success for his program.

The more he got to know about MC, the more he grew close to them instead of just treating them like a test subject or a campaign plan. He loved how they weren’t intimidated by him in the slightest, and he also loved how he could spend hours with them, MC talking the entire time. It drove Lucifer wild, but Diavolo found it fascinating and fun.

“Is this what having friends is like? Amazing.”

He’ll have things all set up for them in a matter of days, having whatever accommodations they need to make their school life as easy as possible. Of course, this supposed ‘special treatment’ didn’t go well over demons who opposed the program. Some demons who disapproved didn’t have the courage to defy him directly at first, but now they were starting to scurry out of the sewers like rats. They headed straight over to Diavolo’s new ‘pet’.

They would abuse MC’s lack of sight to mess with them, stealing their things, purposefully knocking them around since they wouldn’t be able to tell who they were, but any demon who thinks Diavolo doesn’t see everything is sadly mistaken. MC tried standing up for themselves, but they could feel a tremendous and overwhelming presence behind them, larger than anything they had felt before. The demons would gasp, and the bullying would stop. Diavolo would put a hand on MC’s shoulder and they’d never be bothered again.

MC knew that this was the Lord of Demons, but they wanted to feel him in his demon form anyway, should he permit. He did permit, and at last MC was able to figure out this terrifying form of his. In his human form he was large, yes, but in demon form he was even bigger, impossibly big. Demonically big. His horns and wings were sharp and decorated in all manner of jewelry. The skin that stretched over bone to serve as his wings were littered with veins, and even just touching them allowed MC to feel the power pumping through them. He was intimidating yes, but after running their hands over his features, they were able to see how beautiful he was in his frightening glory.

Diavolo won’t tell them this, but they’re the only human who has ever laid a hand on him without immediately perishing or being subjected to torment. He’ll let MC do it again too, if they ever ask him.

Barbatos

The fact that he could’ve chosen a timeline where MC wasn’t like this is irrelevant. MC remained relatively the same throughout the different branches, blind or not. He does have control over time but mostly he’ll let time decide for itself, and he’ll take whatever MC the thread of fate decides to give him in this universe. No matter who shows up, he’ll take care of them.

He’s their secret shadow. MC’s working eyes. Diavolo always has him keeping tabs on them, keeping them safe whenever the brothers can’t. MC at first didn’t understand the whisper in the wind that told them to move to the side right before a demon blazed past. They were confused about the phenomenon of something wrapping around their leg to pull them down to the floor before an object whizzed above their head, causing something to explode behind them. It took MC until they finally heard Barbatos’ voice before it clicked.

When they asked to associate a form with that soft voice, he accepted, the normally even and calm tone just slightly more enthusiastic than normal. He had very wide shoulders and strong hands. Serving hands. Hands that felt almost familiar in a funny way, almost like they were hands that had pulled them away from an problem or two. His hair was longer on one side than the other, and they loved that. Even his demon form was intriguing. In every way that Diavolo’s presence boldly screamed, his aura clearly there, Barbatos was subtle. His horns were different than any horns MC had felt thus far. They were slender, bony, like two skeletal hands were reaching around his face to rest just above his forehead. Even his tail was different, splitting off near the bottom to have two controllable ends. He almost scared MC more than Diavolo.

Sometimes MC will talk to themselves alone in their room, filling up the silent space with their voice so it’s not as dark, not as dismal. Occasionally MC will feel like there’s someone there. Like there’s something nodding along with their ramble in the darkness as shadows quietly tidy up their room. MC will find their clothes folded in distinguishable piles. The floor clear of any potential obstacles. Their cane is easily accessible right near their bed.

“Thank you, Barbatos.”

Sometimes the shadow will answer MC back, quietly drifting across the room to touch MC’s cheek before disappearing like a whisper. The darkness doesn’t seem as lonely anymore.

Simeon

He’s definitely going to be the kind of person who says “There must be a reason if God intended it.” MC had heard that throughout their life too many times. Religious or not, they hated when someone took their life and their disability and summed it up to God’s works. Their life was theirs alone, it belonged to no one else. They have a hard time around this angel at first.

Like Barbatos, Simeon can be impossibly quiet, which makes it hard for MC to be able to tell if he’s moving around. The only giveaways are the sounds his cloak makes, the little diamond shaped decor making slight clinking sounds as he moves. It’s melodic in a way, which MC sums up to angelic grace.

He’s not all bad, though. Yes he does believe God has his hands in all things, but that doesn’t mean he pities MC. That he thinks any less of them as a being. It doesn’t mean he’s chalking up their life to a charity case. He’s actually very sweet and fun. He’s one of the only people besides perhaps Solomon who believes MC is stronger than what they seem.

MC will admit sometimes they absolutely love how much the demons coddle and pamper them, but it can get too much too quickly. So sometimes they’ll run off and hang out with Simeon. He treats them like a person, not like a disability, not like a fragile little flower, but...normal.

“Hello, Simeon here...yes, MC is here...stop screaming, they’re fine...we’ve just been talking.”

He’ll let them talk and talk and talk. He’s quiet himself but he loves to hear MC’s voice. How happy they sound when they share stories and discussions and things that happened during their day.

MC can’t get enough of him now, they love hanging around this angel. There’s no sun in the Devildom, but anytime they’re around Simeon, they feel the same rays of warmth the sunshine gives.

Simeon will never call MC ‘human’ sometimes God’s Miracle, sometimes a Godsend, more often than not, a blessing, but never just ‘human’.

Solomon

Yes, MC is blind, and? He doesn’t care what disability they do or do not have, he still finds them intriguing, and they’re his sole human companion in this place, a kindred spirit.

He’s also mischief wrapped in mystery, so he does his best to teach MC some simple spells to make their life a little easier down in the Devildom. Letting things they drop come right back into their hands, giving a shock to anyone who touches them that they don’t know, simple things like that. He did underestimate MC’s power, though. He may or may not have had seven demons at his door the next day when he learned that MC had accidentally dragged all the furniture in the living room towards them at a disturbing pace after they dropped a schoolbook. He did find it very funny, but taught them how to control their powers better.

MC also doesn’t realize how much magic Solomon uses for their benefit. Objects they feel around for sometimes drift towards their hand. They will magically walk over holes in the ground. If any little pesky demon even dares try to mess with them, they’ll find themselves cursed. He knows that MC has nine powerful demons and two angels looking after them, but he does his part.

When he finally does let MC touch his face, they’re disappointed to find that Solomon is very much in control of his expressions. They can’t get a reading off of what he’s feeling at all. They love anytime the brothers can’t help but let their lip quiver or their eyes flutter. Solomon stays blank, maybe letting them feel a smile on his face, nothing more. However, they are pleased to find not even Solomon can control his temperature, they can feel his cheeks get warmer by the second as they caress his face.

They run their hands though his hair and find that touching him gives them a strange sensation. It’s something akin to static, but without the shock. It’s wonderfully addictive and strange. It leaves their fingers tingling and their nerves vibrating.

Because of this sensation, MC has to touch him anytime they meet. Solomon doesn’t mind, in fact he lives for this. He’ll look over MC’s shoulder and give a small smirk to any of the demon brothers standing behind them. The expressions they pull make everything so much better.

Luke

He’s ready to fight every demon in the Devildom when he learns they’re blind. Everything bad comes from demons, so it had to be one of them, not even hours they had been there before they took MC’s sight!

MC had to calm down the small yapping angel and tell them that they had been this way for a very long time. It just happened, it was just life. He has a very hard time dealing with this.

“But you’re so nice and sweet and wonderful, why can’t you see?” Was he crying?

MC has to promise him that it is okay, there’s still plenty to enjoy in their life. Humans don’t have it easy but they learned to move on anyway. He still doesn’t understand how MC’s not an angel. He suddenly shakes off their supporting words because he’s supposed to be the protector, not a human! He swears to protect them no matter what, no demon will stop him!

He loves to hang out with them, making sure they’re away from demons every now and then for the sake of their soul. He makes sure they’ve been treating MC okay. Even if the answer is yes, he doesn’t care what MC says, he cannot trust demons. So he brings MC the sweets he made to make sure they get plenty to eat. (No, he doesn’t know they can’t live off of sweets just yet)

If he lets MC touch his face, MC cannot get over how soft and squishy this little angel is. He’s just as cute as he sounds.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke

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crash-cinematic-universe · 3 years

Text

a beautiful sight

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: peter maximoff is good at getting himself into trouble. you’re good at getting him out of trouble. what happens when you get tired of the same old routine?

warnings: there is angst for a moment and then they just start fucking. language warning and also sexual content warning

notes: this took so long. this took me so long to write. this took me so long to write and i am so sorry about that. this is 4k words long i hope that eases the pain. also i tried to keep the pronouns gender neutral but since they are having sex the reader is written to have “female” genitalia

taglist: @stranger-names @gooseyhouse @parkersdarling @amourtentiaa @toodles-me-doodles @rottenstyx

Your hands gripped the leather steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip, your teeth clenching so hard you feared your jaw would snap. Fat raindrops smashed against the windshield before quickly being swept away by the automatic wipers. Street lamps and stop lights sparkle in the rain, making for a beautiful sight; if you were traveling under different circumstances, you’d probably enjoy the drive. Unfortunately, you were currently being crushed by your current situation, anger simmering within your stomach.

You pulled up in front of the police station, a withering sigh escaping your chest before the car locks popped open. Determined to keep your composure in front of a bunch of cops-- who, admittedly, you were not on the best terms with-- you kept your chin up and expression stoic as you walked through the rain into the main lobby of the station.

The police station was exactly like how someone would expect it to be: the floor was covered with dull white, the walls a similar shade of white. An unsuspecting visitor would be immediately greeted by the uncomfortable and unwelcoming lobby, decorated only with a dying fern in the corner. Four grey chairs sat against the wall, a small wooden side table between them. There were magazines on the table, each one more brain dead and empty than the last. One could only compare reading said magazines to eating only empty calories for their entire lives.

A shell of a receptionist sat behind a large desk across the room, and you walked directly over. This one is new-- you’d been here three times in the past three months, but you didn’t recognize her. She was typing away at a computer, her eyes tired and sunken in. There was a coffee cup sitting next to her, but it looked as if it remained untouched for hours. Sluggishly, she looked up at you.

“How can I help you?” Her voice matched her exterior, a deep fatigue dripping off her words, Obviously, she didn’t want to be there, but you couldn’t really blame her. Who would want to work in such a lifeless place?

“I’m here to pick up my boyfriend,” You sound tired, not as tired as the receptionist, but still tired. She shoots you a sympathetic look.

“Name?”

“Peter Maximoff.”

You catch a glimpse of the receptionist’s name tag, quickly learning that her name is Nicole. She types something into her computer, adjusting her glasses and leaning in slightly.

“Alright, miss, he’ll be out in a few minutes. You can take a seat over there,” Nicole gestured over to the makeshift waiting room and you nodded.

“Thank you,” Like clockwork, you spun on your heel and landed in the uncomfortable chair that had gotten used to your presence.

You hated police stations. They had a certain soul-sucking quality to them; whether or not that quality comes from the poor souls that get thrown behind bars or the pieces of shit that put them there is up for individual interpretation. Police stations reeked of stale coffee and sweat, the occasional police siren cutting through the air every hour or so. The sound alone was hair-raising, especially to someone who landed themselves on the “wrong” side of the law uncomfortably often.

The sound of footsteps approached the double doors to your left, and soon enough Peter walked through them, his hands still bound in handcuffs. The police officer that escorted him out unlocked his cuffs before disappearing back behind the doors, leaving the two of you in the lobby alone. Well, mostly alone. Nicole was still sitting behind the counter, looking as unenthused as ever. Peter rubbed his wrists, his pale skin an angry red where his cuffs constricted them.

He had a black eye, his silver hair messy and unkempt. The Nirvana t-shirt he was wearing was ripped, and dozens of small cuts and bruises littered his body. You already knew he got into a fight, you just didn’t realize how banged up he had gotten. A part of you pitied him. Upon seeing his injuries, you almost allowed yourself to let go of the anger that had been festering inside of you. Somehow, you restrained yourself. Silently, you turned and walked out the front doors of the police station.

“Y/n--” Peter calls after you, an incoming apology hanging on his lips. You got to the car before he could catch up to you, quickly entering the driver’s seat and waiting in silence. Soon enough, Peter clambers in.

“Y/n, I--”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you cut him off, frustration evident in your voice. Wisely, Peter held his tongue. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep recklessly running through the city doing whatever the hell you want. I can’t keep bailing you out, I won’t keep bailing you out.”

“I’m really sorry, doll,” He sounds like he’s being genuine, but you were going to need a lot more than one measly ‘sorry’. “I just… I saw these guys beating up some teenager in an alley. I couldn’t let that slide, and god knows the cops aren’t going to do anything about it. I did what I thought was right,”

“I’m not mad at you for that, Peter. I would’ve done the exact same thing if I was in your position, I’m just… worried. I know you think you need to stand up for the little guys, but you can’t keep putting yourself at risk. I hate seeing you all beaten up like this,” You sighed, taking Peter’s hand in yours. His knuckles were bruised, the new purple splotches decorating his skin. The bruises from the last unfortunate encounter weren’t even fully healed you.

“I swear, this is the last time you’ll have to do this. I promise,” He smiled weakly at you, and somehow, you managed to swallow the fury that had built up inside of you.

“It better be.” You ran your thumb over his injured hand, watching as the dark purple patches disappeared. Thankfully, your mutation guarantees that all of the scrapes and scratches will heal quickly. “Now, let’s go home so I can bandage you up.”

“I’d like that,” Peter smiles softly. His hand remains in yours as he rests his head against the car window, watching other cars whiz by in the rain. The street lights illuminated the sharp angles and delicate curves that made up his face. Even with a busted lip, Peter was still one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the sound of raindrops pattering against the windshield lulling you both. It was late, the sun had long plunged past the horizon and a dusting of stars had appeared in the night sky. You noticed a few constellations as you drove to your apartment, the three signature stars of Orion’s belt catching your eye. A few months prior, Peter had taken you to a large field in the middle of nowhere, the scenery free of the light pollution the cityscape provided. He talked for hours about the stars, going from constellations to the lore behind them to the planets themselves; he even spoke about the star signs. He spoke with such passion, you felt as if you could listen to him talk for hours.

You pulled up in front of your apartment, quickly switching off the car. The rain gradually grows harder as you and Peter scurry up the pathway to the apartment lobby. Peter practically dragged you inside; it was obvious that he was struggling to contain his speed. As it turns out, hiding superpowers is much harder than initially expected. With every mutation-suppressing day that passes, Peter grows more antsy and you grow more anxious.

“You alright, silver?”

“Yeah, I just wanna get home,” he replies, but it’s too quick. He’s too eager to ward off your concern. He’s hiding something.

“Peter, don’t lie to me,” Your words are obviously a warning, but they come out much softer than intended. Peter is visibly unwell-- you can’t believe you hadn’t noticed it sooner.

“Really, I’m fine, it’s no big deal,” It was obvious that he was trying to reassure you and quell your worries, but he was failing miserably. Finally, he surrendered. “Seriously, I’m totally okay. I’m just a little sore and, uh… bleeding,” It’s only then that he lifts up the part of his shirt that hadn’t been torn, revealing a poorly bandaged gash-- you can only assume he got stabbed.

“Oh my god,” You gasped, taking a sharp step forward. “Peter, you-- what-- how have-- oh my god,”

“It’s okay! Don’t freak out, it’s just--”

“It is not okay! Not in the slightest!” You pulled him into the nearest empty elevator, immediately slamming your hand on the button for the fourth floor. Peter looked pale and sickly, and upon closer inspection you realized that he was trembling. Still, Peter managed to smile softly.

“I’m okay, dollface, really,” The elevator dinged, and you practically yanked him out of the small compartment. “Once we get home, you can patch me up, good as new, just like always,”

“Peter, why didn’t you tell me?” You fumble with the keys to your apartment, a metallic jingling punctuating your words. After what felt like a billion years, you finally managed to shove the key into the handle and throw the door open.

Like clockwork, you fell into the routine you’d come to know so well. Peter sat on the kitchen counter, taking off his torn and tattered shirt and waiting patiently for you to come to his aid. You took a sharp left into the bathroom, your knees hitting the floor as you dig through the cabinet under the sink. The glimmering white gloss of the first aid kit caught your eye; within seconds you had yanked it out from between the extra toilet paper and the windex. Although you could heal the worst of the cut with your mutation, you still had to bandage it and disinfect the giant gash.

“Okay-- just try to hold still. You know the drill,” Peter nodded slightly, sharply inhaling as you pressed your fingertips to his pale skin. He leans back on his hands, his eyebrows furrowing as he hisses. The open wound on his abdomen begins to slowly recombine causing blood to gush out of the cut. You’re quick to wash it away with a wet cloth. As extraordinary as your healing abilities might be, they don’t take away the painfulness of any given laceration. For the next minute or so, your beautiful boyfriend is going to be in near agony. Peter’s head falls back as he tries his best to avoid looking at his injury-- he claims it “always makes it worse”.

“We’re almost done, Peter. You’re doing very well,” You soothe, trying your best to make the process as quick as possible. Peter whimpers as the cut closes and the blood flow stops. The skin where the cut closed was still very red and tender, and any sudden movement risks reopening the wound. This one was particularly bad, the severity and depth of the injury dangerous enough to warrant the consideration of double bandaging.

A deep sigh escaped your chest; you were tired of this routine. This awful, never-ending chain reaction that almost always ended with you trying to scrub blood out of your clothes. The police station, the arguments, the cuts and gashes and hushed apologies-- you were just so tired. And you loved Peter, you really did, but he didn’t love himself. He was willing to put his own survival on the backburner at the drop of a hat, and even though he usually came out fine, the thought of him getting hurt was weighing down on you.

“Y/n?” Peter chimes up, his voice pained and gravelly. You hum in response, too occupied with disinfecting the now healed cut to answer with a full sentence. Peter winced every time you pressed the washcloth to his skin. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly, his voice wavering with each brush of the rag. Genuine remorse coated his every word, and beneath the gentle tremors and the sharp breathing, his voice is thick with building tears.

Peter sits up, a strangled grunt forcing its way out of his mouth. He moves slowly, trying desperately not to agitate the healing skin on his stomach. His shoulders slumped over and his head hung low, strands of silver hair falling over his eyes. It’s getting long. You’ll have to cut it later. Gently, you run your hand through his hair and pull his head up so your eyes meet. Some of the tears had spilled over, leaving glistening tracks in their wake.

“I’m so sorry,” He coughed, although it seemed as if he was trying to cover a sob. You pulled him off the counter before wrapping your arms around his waist, minding his injury. His skin is warm and littered with scars. He practically collapses on your, gripping at your shirt like it’s his lifeline. “You do so much for me, and I always end up asking for more. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,”

“Peter, it’s okay--”

“No! It isn’t! You drove all the way across town at midnight to pick me up from the police station, only to immediately find out that I got stabbed and decided to hide it from you,” he stuttered, his grip on you tightening ever-so-slightly. “I’ve been a really shitty boyfriend lately,”

“Hey, look at me,” you softly cup his face with your hand, running your thumb over the fading bruises from past altercations with assholes in alleyways. Peter Maximoff is nothing if not a hero at heart. “Yes, lately you’ve been reckless and it freaks me out. Sure, I didn’t exactly think I’d be spending my Friday night sitting in a police station waiting room. And, yeah, I’d prefer if you didn’t hide stab wounds from me, but you are not a shitty boyfriend. You’re a wonderful boyfriend who happens to have an uncontrollable urge to help others, even at your own expense,” You press a kiss to his forehead, brushing the hair out of his eyes once again.

“I just don’t want you to get tired of me,” Peter’s voice is quiet and vulnerable, hesitancy hiding between the syllables.

“Me? Tired of you? Impossible,” you enthused, reveling in the slight smile that cracked on Peter’s porcelain face. “I just hope you don’t get sick of my constant worrying,”

“You know I could never,” A grin grew on his face, and suddenly the sadness and the tension in the air was replaced with content. Peter looked at you with admiration, and within seconds his lips were on yours.

Any remnants of the anger you once felt was snuffed out like a dying candle. Your head felt warm and fuzzy as Peter’s hands found their way to your hips. If someone were to tell you that Peter had a secret secondary mutation that granted him the power to subdue any person just by kissing them, you’d believe them wholeheartedly. There was something about the way he leaned against you, encapsulating you in a tight embrace as every aspect of personal space was thrown out the window. You’d call it intimacy, but it seemed like so much more than that. Sometimes words aren’t heavy enough to describe what you felt for Peter, and what he felt for you. That’s alright, though. You do what you can with the words you have.

Your silver-haired companion takes a tentative step forwards and you proceed to follow his lead, walking backwards until your back hits the wall. He huffs, pulling away from you for a split second so he can whirl you around; Peter always preferred to be the one against the wall, for lack of a better analogy. It didn’t take a genius or a prognosticator to see where this was heading, and judging by the eagerness behind his movements, Peter could see it too.

Hesitantly, you push him away from you for just a moment. His chest rises and falls in a brisk rhythm as he rests his forehead against yours. You’re still pressed against his chest, and he’s still clutching you like you’re some sort of flight risk. Almost instinctively, you run your hand through his shimmering silver hair.

“Peter, less than ten minutes ago you were lying on my counter with an open wound. Are you sure you’re feeling up for this?” A wide smile grew on Peter’s face, and with each passion second you could see his signature cocky stature returning. You knew it wouldn’t last much longer, but hey, might as well let him enjoy it while it’s there.

“You fixed me up pretty well, dollface,” Peter pecks you on the cheek and a momentary chuckle escapes you. “I feel better already,”

“Alright, if you say so,” You grab him by the collar and pull his lips to yours once again. The kiss was eager and needy-- Peter melted beneath your touches, just like always. You ran your hands over his bare skin, reveling in the shutters and shivers that ran up his spine. He pulled you closer, almost as if he thought you’d disappear if he let go. Gently, you raised your arm and began to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, accidentally tugging on the silver strands.

This seemed to set something off in Peter, and in the blink of an eye you found yourself lying on your bed with him hovering over you. His lips were on your neck in an instant, leaving a trail of soft kisses that led all the way down to your collarbone. You could feel Peter’s warm hands snaking under your shirt, tentatively caressing your skin. Although you’ve done this a thousand times, he was still incredibly focused on making sure you were enjoying the interaction as much as he was.

You spurred him on in the most obvious way possible; by pulling him back up to your face and flipping him over, swinging your leg over his hips and resting your hands on his bare chest. This position oh-so-conveniently happened to result in your knee pressing directly against Peter’s crotch. You’re quick to replace your knee with your hand, gentle palming him through his impossibly tight jeans. He swallows back a groan, his teeth digging into his bottom lip hard enough to break his skin. You’re quick to reach up and wipe away the blood that formed on his lip, a smirk growing on your face.

“Careful, pretty boy. Wouldn’t wanna hurt yourself any more than you already have, now, would you?” The sudden use of his favorite pet name sent shivers down Peter’s spine, his heart rate steadily increasing with every second that passes. You quickly unbutton his jeans before pulling them off, dragging your nails down his thighs as you do so. Before you had the chance to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, he managed to use his mutation to flip you onto your back. His hands pinned your wrists to the mattress, a smirk stuck on his face.

“Y’know, you really do take great care of me,” Slowly, Peter starts making his way down your body. There’s something about how the light hits his face, casting shadows over his sharp features that make him look like some sort of greek god. He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops along your waistband, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second. “I think it’s about time I take care of you,” With that, Peter fluidly tugs off your jeans, discarding the rest of your clothing before settling between your thighs. He rests your legs on his shoulders, his hot breath fanning over your cunt and sending shivers up your spine. The feeling of light kisses on your thighs catches your attention and frustration spreads throughout your chest. You reach down and tug on Peter’s hair, whining in reaction to his ceaseless teasing. He looks up at you through his eyelashes with a cocky smirk growing on his face. After one last sultry look, Peter lurches forward and buries his face in the apex of your thighs.

A low moan escapes you as a soft string of praises falls from your lips. The grip you held on his hair tightened as Peter’s tongue circled your clit, sending white-hot waves of pleasure through your body. He pulls his hand off your thigh and immediately buries two of his fingers inside of you. Your head was scrambled, any semblance of coherency that you once had flying out the window with each jerk of Peter’s hand.

“Fuck, Peter,” You moaned just a little too loud. Just when you were regaining some sense of composure, the earth-shattering feeling of rapid vibrations ignites every nerve in your body. The combination of Peter’s vibrating fingers buried inside of you and the feeling of his lips working at your clit was just too much, and within seconds you were spasming around his fingers and calling his name.

You can’t bring yourself to form words, instead opting to pull him back up to your lips. All either of you could do was grab at each other, desperately trying to pull the other closer than you already were. Peter practically tore off whatever clothing that got in his way, leaving the both of you completely bare. With one last glance up at your face, he waited for confirmation before pushing his cock inside of you.

It was as if everything fell into place, the feeling of fullness and passion sending electricity through your body. You hooked your leg around his side, pulling him deeper inside of you as his thrusts fell into a steady rhythm. His pounding was relentless, his chest heaving with every jerk. Peter’s name fell from your lips like a mantra as he punctuated your words with deep thrusts.

“S-So good, Peter,” Your words are slightly slurred as you look up at his face. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration; long, low moans fell from his swollen lips, and for a moment, it felt like music to your ears. “Such a good boy for me,”

Peter whimpered and his movements faltered; in one final act of defiance, you used your leverage to flip in around once more. You anchor yourself on his chest before rolling your hips against his, watching Peter’s eyes roll back as you begin bouncing on his cock. A string of senseless noises and incoherent ramblings fall from his lips as he thrusts his hips upwards to meet your movement. His nails dig into your hips so hard that it hurts-- you can’t exactly blame him.

“Y-Y/n, please,” Peter begged helplessly, tears building in his eyes. He didn’t know exactly what he was begging for, but he begged regardless. The feeling was so much; it was everything at once, and it was so good he almost couldn’t take it. “P-please, please...” He trailed off.

One slight adjustment resulted in Peter slamming into your sweet spot, causing your moans to get damn near screams. Your nails left angry red trails on Peter’s chest, taking their place amongst the countless hickies you left behind before. Then, in a beautiful amalgamation of moans and whimpers and screams, you and Peter came in unison. He snapped his one last time before throwing his head back, emptying himself deep inside of you.

You watch Peter’s face intently, his eyes fluttering closed and his hair sticking out in every direction. He was practically glowing; completely blissed-out with a golden halo hanging over his head. A soft smile played about his lips as he began to finally catch his breath-- it’s only now that you see the dozens of little marks you left on his body. An odd sense of pride filled your body and for a moment you felt like an expert artist admiring your latest mural.

Slowly, you pulled yourself off of him, collapsing to his side and exhaling deeply. He immediately wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into his chest and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. Peter is practically radiating warmth, a strong sense of comfort settling over you and you gently trace his collarbones.

“I love you, y’know that?” His voice is quiet and dripping with fatigue; it’s music to your ears.

“Oh, really? I couldn’t tell,” You joked. Peter chuckled and rolled his eyes before resting his head on top of your shoulder. “Seriously, though, I love you too. Nerd.” He seemed satisfied with that response, nuzzling his face further into your touch.

Rain softly drummed against the windows, light from the moon and from the city skyline reflecting off the droplets like a billion multi-colored stars. Peter had drifted off to sleep, the gentle glow from the outside world making him look like an angel that fell out of the sky and into your bedroom. Your eyelids grow heavy, and as you succumbed to the influence of a deep sleep, you kept your eyes trained on Peter’s face. He truly was a beautiful sight.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #xmen #wandavision

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 4 years

Text

Golden Prince Naga Boyfriend (Shesmetet) 3

I may have to break this down into another part as it’s so long already.

Warning: some threats and language.

Words: 3k

1 [NSFW] - 2 - 4 - 5 (FINALE)

Divine Worship Part 3

His chambers were poorly lit compared to the countless times you had been there to share his bed, the fading candles blowing softly in the aromatic room of sweet pomegranates and lemon slices that filled your nostrils but did not seem to calm your nerves.

You knew of the consequences, the outcome in which your life would be on the line, but you didn’t know exactly how to take it all.

The Jade Prince was by his table drinking from his golden cobra chalice the same wine he had ‘borrowed’ from his sister, observing how he poured and drank from it like it was water. Two, then three, then four.

His body was showing all signs of fatigue and strain: his usual sleek ink-black hair was so unkempt and tangled, the stress of being the representative of his father on top of all the things surrounding you.

You couldn’t help but feel that this was all your fault, had you kept this all from happening and not even going to his bedchambers more and more, you wouldn’t be having to stress for your life being taken by the Princess Iseka.

You had been on the verge of doubling over and pouring your tears out in front of the prince, your last moment of courage bringing you to speak his name. “Your Grace-”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was gravelly and deeper than expected, but his body didn’t show any signs of inebriation, “I’m sorry for all of this.”

You twisted your fingers to clench at your dress, your hair guarding you of your eyes that were threatening to spill those tears.

“No, this is my fault.” You confessed forlornly. “The Rising Sun is your betrothed and I will ruin that alliance if it is to be revealed to the court. I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

You understood your punishment would be a fate worse than death if his father found out, but your morbid mentality had come to slowly accept this.

Before you, the large naga had twisted so sudden and swift that you didn’t think was possible for a creature his size. Like a coiled viper, Shesmetet had moved up the stairs to come to face you fully, his large head and torso still towering over you even when his entire body and tail was lying from the base of the stairs.

His large clawed fingers came to rest and cradled you from the curve of your cheeks to your jaw, his hands almost swallowing your face whole. You breathed in relief to his touch, relishing in how your body instinctively moved in closer.

“I do not want to hear you speak those words again, my love.” His golden eyes were pooling with emotion and sadness, his darkened scales looked like encrusted rocks from the far corners of the world. “We will get through this together.”

Your heart fluttered at the term of endearment he had used so soon and so suddenly, but it made your stomach quiver with adoration and admiration for the golden prince. “What about the Princess? Or your father?”

“I would rather burn the four corners of the eastern hemisphere and the other courts before she could touch you or harm you in any way.” He protectively declared, his bare muscular chest swelled with pride, his eyes flickered with further thought.

“As for my father, well... the old man will not see fit to have my beloved taken away from me without it costing my life or my titles thrown across the sands.”

You needed to know whether it was true or not, his words that he had told his sister, the Star of The Sea: ‘I know, but as long as I get to spend a lifetime with you, that is all that will matter.’

He brought you back to his attention with a gentle stroke of his fingers against your knuckles. “You’re pensive.”

“I’m anxious, I worry that this will all flare up and come down horribly.” You cradled yourself as you pulled your gaze from him. “Your sister isn’t pleased with this arrangement.”

“My sister has been free from my father’s laws since she had been declared his heir. She takes her plights of fancy wherever she goes.” The Young Flame chortled wryly, his gaze melting for you once more. “But, I don’t believe she is infuriated with you—no, someone would have to be witless to have bad blood with you, my dear. Let Amvalma cool before the storm; she will be using it against me rather than anyone else. My sister’s wroth can last for many moons.”

You wanted to believe his words, but you knew that it was true for Princess Amvalma to hold her stubbornness close to her. If there was anyone you wanted to check over with, it was definitely her.

“Let us enjoy the rest of this evening, I would rather have you in my arms than to worry about anything else in this world.” Shesmetet pressed warming kisses to each of your fingers, dispelling any further worries from brewing and frothing over, gently leaning you into the pillows behind as he took his place beside you, his large coils curling around you lovingly.

“The break of day will bring another hurdle.” You reminded yourself softly, bringing the prince’s attention. “One that we will face together.” He kissed at your flesh once more tenderly. “I’m on your side, no matter what.” Your body coiled into the curve of his arm, using his rising and falling chest to rest your head as the two of you allowed sleep to take over.

The Star of the Sea had ignored you at breakfast, her posture stiff as well as her face being wrangled free from her relaxed nature, painfully kissing her future sister in law’s cheeks dutifully as the food was being served around them.

Quail eggs and blood sausages, fried and skewered lizard with a sea of fruits of all sorts that had been imported, but the Jade emperor’s children had picked at the food lightly as they sat in a stiff-necked silence.

It was never this quiet, always the table had been filled with merriment and soft music, but the hall had been all-so dead with no soul to be heard. The staff had been too sapped of all life as they served the sweet wines to the royals silently.

The Princess Iseka had been sat next to her husband-to-be, dressed in a beaded headpiece that was nothing in comparison to Amvalma’s golden piece. Instead, hers took after the Jade court’s colours of deep greens and blacks; the small bells jingling in her braided hair whenever her head moved.

You had found Kira in the back of the room, and when you had gone to stand beside her from the opposite side of the room, she was already discreetly leading you out of the room with her hold around your wrist.

“Is it true? His Grace wishes to denounce his marriage to the Rising Sun?” Her voice was in a hushed whisper.

“How did you know?”

“I’m not surprised the entire court hasn’t heard of this, sparing the ears of the Emperor and Princess Iseka.” Her stance read disappointment, the motherly figure standing before you was all you needed in feeling more worthless.

Her hands reached out towards you suddenly, feeling at your palms and forearms, onlooking the flesh for any bruises or marks. “He’s not forcing you to do this… His Grace… is he?”

“Gods, no, Kira.” You held her by her hands carefully, squeezing on emphasis. “His Grace hasn’t hurt me or threatened me ever since I was chosen to lay with him. This isn’t what I wanted… the gossip, the rumours being told from staff to be spread to the handmaidens then to someone who I wouldn’t want them knowing.”

Kira’s eyebrow raised in confusion. “…His Grace… The Young Flame is smitten with you, truly it seems.”

“He promises me my safety, but I do not know whether I shall be safe if he is not around always. He has been tired from his work, and I know where the grass lurks, snakes do too.”

“The worst ones for sure.” Kira gave a sympathetic smile, pulling something from her pocket as she pressed it into the palm of your hand. “My sweet, I hope that the Gods are kind to you. You are a bright soul too. I pray that Iseka never finds out.”

“Thank you, Kira.” You smiled woefully, looking to the gift she had given you: pressed into you palm was a golden amulet, its curves familiar to you in what was given to those for good fortune and help. “That was my sisters, but I know that this will come in handy for you more than I.”

“Oh, Kira.” You reached to hug the older woman, not expecting her to reciprocate it, but when you felt her arms wrap around your waist, you felt the tears spill from your eyes. “I’m so afraid.”

“I know, my sweet. But His Grace sees something in you that must leave him wanting more. No doubt of it, I see that he is more lifted when you are in the room.” She smiled and pulled back, wiping back your tears, glaring at the passing staff who gave odd looks.

It got you thinking: how in the name of the Jade Empire were you going to get away from the grasps of Iseka? There was no doubt you would be able to, but you couldn’t think of any other ways of being able to be excused if something terrible were to happen.

Your thoughts for the rest of the day included trying to ignore any invasive thoughts that could endanger yourself, tending to be silent and obedient to those whenever they wanted something.

Princess Amvalma had been ignoring you for the entirety of the day, and when it came to her tending to her affairs, you had been more than surprised when she had picked another one of her handmaidens to help her get ready for the night, brushing you and the other ladies-in-waiting with little regard.

It left you a bit heartbroken: knowing full well that this wasn’t going to as easy as Shesmetet had stated. Amvalma’s wroth was worse than I had expected. You thought as you walked the poorly-lit halls and passageways to get back to your chambers. And now, I was to be hated by her.

There had been the glinting of metal scraping along the golden marble as you looked up in time to bump into the tall figures; two exactly. Their amour was a burnt copper of rust and oranges, their bardiches glinting in contrast to their smooth scales of dark greens to pale browns. You didn’t recognise them to be of the royal Jade court guard, but the realisation was spreading quickly in your mind like wildfire.

Oh, your thought had been, and then you had been grabbed at you and your noises of protest began.

They dragged you by each up back up the corridor you had come from, your protests and yelping for help came as futile when they had ignored you and spoke in tongues that you didn’t understand. Threats, and those blades had told you to keep quiet.

West then east, the corridors spiralled, growing confused and lost as to where you were going. Finally, their rough touches and hands pushed you to the ground as they halted, bowing as four others appeared from the loitering shadows.

You should’ve known that you were in deep waters when you heard the eerie noise grow closer and finally emerged out. The gleeful bells of misery.

“This is the one? The one they have been speaking of?” Princess Iseka’s was heavily laced with a thick accent and venom on her tongue from how she spoke so lowly of your presence, gliding out from the dimness to present herself.

Her size alone was smaller than the Star of The Sea, but she alone was still long and twice in height compared to you, dwarfing you like you were a meek mouse in the awaiting jaws of a cat.

Her bells didn’t stop jingling until she was standing up-close and above you, towering you with ease, her cat-like gaze acidifying at the sight of you, scowling. “A common base harlot, I see. This one stole my intended.”

Your body had rocked you with free that shocked your system from doing anything, shakily raising your hands above your head in a plea. “Forgive me, Princess—I never wanted any trouble.”

“And yet, you stole my betrothed, your Prince, and used your parts to get you into his bed.” She hissed lowly, and when you caught sight of the long pointed nails attached to her fingers, you flinched at what she would do.

“My Shesmetet, partaking in fucking human whores, how I will change his ways when we are wedded. As for you,” the same hand you had been looking at grabbed at you suddenly by your face, lifting you up in the air with ease by the grip around your throat, her nails digging into your skin painfully. “I will deal with you accordingly.”

You body scrambled to get some air, the tears falling like diamonds from your cheeks, dropping to her own flesh, blinding you from how much you begged in choked cries.

“Such a pitiful little thing. I can see why he took interest in you, you were easy to break, I see. He will grow bored of you when I pretty you up for him. He will find you ever so comely.” She grinned amused, her eyes glinting with murderous intent.

You final wrack of a sob echoed through the dark hall, your thoughts going to whether the Gods themselves had been cruel to curse you like this. Iseka was right: you were more suited as a street whore than handmaiden to the heir. And you would be remembered as one for your crimes.

A deep rasping hiss broke the hostile air, Iseka herself had stiffened on sight, her gaze wavering to what was standing behind, her grip loosening bit by bit until she dropped you to the ground not so nicely in fear.

The floor bruised your knees your skin blotchy and bloody as you gripped at your neck to get air in. When you had looked back to what was there, you realised you hadn’t been alone.

You recognised the colours: the jade and blacks, the glinting gold and gilded armour of the guards of the court, and charging in so dangerously and heatedly the Prince himself.

You didn’t think the stare he was holding would make yourself quake: a look of such repugnance and abhorrence for the Rising Sun that you thought it had been originally for you.

With all power of his tail, he had parted through his guards down the middle like parting the sea waves, before growing himself to hover over Iseka, his eyes of liquid gold pooling with such spite and fury. “Get yourself out of my father’s court before I have my men cut you and your dogs into ribbons.”

The Rising Sun looked to be on the verge of tears at his threat - even her tears appeared to the colour of leaking gold. “But, m-my love!-”

“Don’t make me say it again, you heard me the first time. I don’t want to share your presence again.” He turned from her with little thought, with the Princess and you being left in hysteria from what had just happened.

With his back to her, he called to his men with a beckon. “Escort the Princess to her chambers, I wish her good travels back to her court.”

Her pleas and cries could be heard as both she and the Jade Prince’s guards accompanied her out from the hallway, leaving the two of you alone once more. With the fury and resentment replaced with tenderness and devotion, Shesmetet collected you into his broad arms, hugging you tightly to his chest.

“My love.” His voice was full of relief.

You didn’t care now whether or not you two had been alone now, for you had allowed yourself to fully cry in his presence, the Golden naga had embraced you warmly and allowed you to weep into his chest whilst he murmured softly and sweetly in reassurance.

“I’m… I’m sorry this all happened.”

“No, I’m sorry on her behalf.” Shesmetet began gravelly, pulling away to carefully wipe away a tear with the back of his finger. “I don’t think I have ever felt so much rage for what she almost did to you there. I could’ve sliced her in half in that very moment.”

You gasped softly to yourself: not thinking that he would do so much to protect you, but it warmed your chest and made your heart flutter with butterflies, the small sad smile that adorned your features brought him to tenderly kiss at your lips so fearlessly, not caring of who was there nor not.

“I will never let you out of my sight, you hear? I will never let another lay a hand on you again.” He promised softly, and you believed him truly. “But your father? Your sister? They will not be pleased with you dropping the marriage.”

The smile and laughter that erupted over the Gold Prince’s features were pleasing and beautiful to hear, his rich eyes drinking you in with so much appreciation and love.

“My sister knows so far as what I must do, but I know it is what I have to do for duty and for my family.”

You were expecting him to reject his love for you for his family and royal blood, but instead, he cradled you close as he kissed at your knuckles. “My father will not like the news when I tell him how much I wish to marry you.”

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

1950

Wanda Maximoff x reader

warnings: talks abt wanda’s mental health

a/n: this was written pre-wandavision release so im actually completely bullshitting the storyline...this turned into really poorly written angst really quickly

prompt: @the-radio-star: “OMG for the song event can I request Wanda Maximoff (MCU) with 1950 - King Princess”//1950 - King Princess

One thousand nine hundred eighty-nine days. That’s how long you waited for this moment. To stand in front of Wanda and see her beautiful face again. To hold her hands and pull her close to you. It was at that moment you realized that if you had to, you would wait an entire lifetime for her to return to you.

“Did you miss me?” Wanda coyly asked, watching as you fought tearing up. You’d be a liar if you denied it.

“Maybe just a little.” You honestly couldn’t stop thinking about her when she was gone. You didn’t think it’d be possible to see her again.

“Glad to know someone did.” She smiled slightly, but you knew there was something on her mind. She had lost people, too. Only her people...they weren’t coming back.

The thing is, she’d mourn for a while, but not forever. You’d be there with her through it all, though. Because you loved her, and not just as a friend. You and Wanda had been back and forth for a while, you just never caught each other at the right times. But now you were sitting side by side on a bench in the park and she was smiling, really smiling. It’s like she’d healed from all that had hurt her in the past, you were glad to be able to witness that.

“You look really pretty today, Wanda.” She heard you compliment, making her face turn pink.

“You’re just being nice.” Wanda rolled her eyes with a chuckle, but she knew you weren’t kidding. You wished that it could have stayed this simple, but your lives...they just didn’t work like that. So that leads us into our next part of the story, just shortly after.

—————

“Mx. l/n! You can’t go in there!” An agent camped outside the restricted town called to you as you marched right in, there was nothing that would stop you from saving her from herself. You may be the only person that could.

Once you were inside, you took a gander around at the puzzling scenery. It’s like you stepped right into a portal to 1950, and there you saw one house that looked more detailed than the rest, there she is.

You didn’t know what kind of state of mind she may be in, but this couldn’t go on for much longer, so you walked right up to her door and gave a less-than-gentle knock. There was an almost immediate answer.

“Hello? Can I help you?” Wanda asked with a peculiar tone, her accent was completely gone. And...she didn’t recognize you. It was almost heartbreaking.

“Wanda?” Your voice shook, but Wanda stayed upbeat as ever with a smile practically glued to her face.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!” She joked, every part of this got more and more uncomfortable. You should have listened to that agent.

“Who’s at the door, Wanda?” You heard a familiar voice from inside.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Wanda tilted her head gently and you whispered your answer by accident. She thought you were odd, but she couldn’t imagine how you felt. “It’s y/n, honey!”

“Do we know an ‘y/n?’” He asked yet another question.

“We do now! Come on in.” The stranger of a friend dragged you inside and...wow. You just wanted to know how you could help her at this point. This entire reality, it couldn’t bring anything good. “So, y/n, tell us more about yourself.”

“I, uh...” You were focusing on Vision, who was sitting on a recliner reading his newspaper. He was supposed to be dead. Oh, Wanda, what have you done? Wait—Did something in the room just change? “You don’t remember me?”

“Remember you? Why, I’ve never seen you in my life.” Vision commented, folding his newspaper and sitting up straight. Now the two of them were uncomfortably staring at you. “Who are you?” How could you answer this question without hurting Wanda’s mental state. You looked at her clock and saw that it was now ticking one way, and then the other. They were still staring and you were holding onto your breath. Good god.

“Well, we haven’t got all day. Me and Vision have dinner plans!” Wanda finally broke her deafening silence and clapped her hands together. Maybe...maybe you should snap her out of this. You awkwardly contemplated it for another few moments while the fictional couple stared, observing the surroundings of the 1950s-themed home. Is this really what she wanted?

“This...this isn’t real, Wanda.” You finally told her, but she laughed. She just laughed. “I’m serious. All of this around us? You made it up.”

“That’s preposterous!” Vision decided to interject as he began reading the paper again, crossing one leg over another. But Wanda hadn’t yet commented on your world-breaking news.

“Wanda? You’ve got to believe me. Think about it for a minute. What do you remember from the past few days?” You tried to reason with her, but instead looked down to see yourself wearing 50s attire. She wasn’t going to give up this reality so easily. You decided to move onto the couch her hand been sitting on. “This is wrong. All wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?” She furrowed her eyebrows and watched you reach for her hand. Vision was frozen in time right then and there, almost like Cap himself.

“I care about you...so, so much.” You admitted as you squeezed her soft hands. “That’s why I need you to escape this fantasy and come back to the real world.” Wanda was starting to gain some clarity, but not enough to fully give up her dream life, even if you were a tad disappointed that Vision was there and you weren’t. Grief shows itself in funny ways, I guess. “Listen, Wanda. I didn’t want to have to do this, but...I love you too much to see you like this. A lie isn’t going to fix everything.” You reluctantly used her powers against her, a lovely ability you had. Mimicking her powers came at a cost, though.

“What—what are you doing?” Wanda asked as her world came undone. Her powers overwhelmed you greatly, but this was your last resort.

“I’m helping, Wanda. You’ll thank me later.” You grunted as you tried to concentrate. She was at a loss for words, actually. You watched as she ran outside and saw it all crumble to pieces. You hated hearing her cry, but the sooner you stopped this, the easier it might be.

You were weak now. It was hard to handle all of what she posessed when you weren’t quite used to it. It was time to find Wanda, but that wasn’t very hard. She was sitting in the middle of the road sobbing, but why exactly was she? There were so many reasons she may have.

“Are you okay?” You foolishly questioned. She didn’t answer at first...you sat beside her. You needed to sit, you were exhausted.

“I’m sorry.” She told you. “I’m a mess.”

“Don’t...” You placed your hand on her shoulder. “I know why you did it. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, though. I keep making these awful mistakes.” Wanda argued, biting her lip as more tears flowed down her cheeks and into her lap. Her jeans began catching them all. “It was wrong, perverted. I created a fake Vision, I took over a town, I went back in time. I created a false reality for myself and let it consume me, I couldn’t even remember who you were and you...you’re all that matters to me.”

“I—” This was such a complex situation, becoming an Avenger never prepared you for this. You decided a hug might be best right about now. No words for a minute. So you just pulled Wanda closer to you and let her cry on your shoulder. “I’m here for you Wanda.”

“I know you are. I’ve always known that.” She sniffled, still crying just a bit. And she was finally able to look you in the eye. “We’ve just never caught each other at the right time, have we?” Wanda asked, pulling your hand towards her lips to give your knuckles a light kiss.

“It seems that way.” You sighed. “But I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you.”

“I need to get on with my life, don’t I?” Her half-shrug was accompanied by the shake of her head.

“You need to take your time with it, Wanda.” You looked up at the cloudy sky and felt warmth on your cheek. A kiss.

“Maybe a little longer. But I think our time is soon.” She looked up with you and birds began to fly by, it was a bit peaceful.

“I just hope you’ll be happy with me.” You admitted, turning your head over to her. Your soon-to-be girlfriend’s eyes were still glossy, but she was seemingly okay for the time being.

“Out of the question, y/n.” She leaned her head against your shoulder once more. “I have no doubt that we’ll both be happy.” Her words were comforting, but tiredness was consuming you as you sat with your eyelids drooping.

“Let’s hope so...”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiantfavs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm // @ofthedewthesunlight //

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wandavision #wanda maximoff #wandavision x reader #wandavision imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers imagine

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

Text

Never Have I Ever

Daryl Dixon x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1662 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Daryl gets a bit too rough after having a drink with Beth and the reader has to remind him who he really is

——————————————————————————————————

You knew that playing that game with Daryl and Beth was a bad idea.

He had his daddy's temper when he drank, which was why he didn’t do it in the first place, and he was impossible to reason with. The only fights you two had were when he drank.

That was why he didn’t.

The last time he’d had a sip, you told him you’d never speak to him again if he ever treated you that way. So, he didn’t do it, from that moment on, he decided that staying sober and keeping you safe was more important.

In this world, he didn’t have the luxury of being what he was before. He didn’t get to drink and spend all his nights in the woods alone. You counted on him, and now Beth did too.

Being that way was dangerous, and he didn’t want to lose you because of something like that. Alcohol could never fill the space in his life that you filled when he met you.

You were his everything.

...But sometimes life caught up to you too fast and you did things that you weren’t really planning on.

That was how he ended up taking that jar from Beth, and drinking the whole thing, before finishing another and another after that. It was a slippery slope like that, and it always had been for him.

Not that that was an excuse for how he was acting.

You had chosen not to drink any of it, knowing for a fact that you hated moonshine. The only time you’d ever drank it, you’d been so sick you were spewing chunks for days.

It was horrible.

The last thing you wanted was to have to go through that again. So, you sat back, between the young blonde and Daryl, watching her twirl the liquid around the bottom of the glass.

It smelled like rubbing alcohol, smacking you in the face with every twist of that mason jar, but that wasn’t nearly as bad as the musty smell of the old house.

It was just like the house Daryl had grown up in, and nearly gave you flashbacks to when you used to spend time with him there. Some of them were happy memories, but most of them were just loud and chaotic.

Just like most of his childhood had been.

It started out slow, with Daryl slowly grasping the point of the game, his eyes focused on the young girl's face as he spoke. “I've never been out of Georgia”

Beth seemed almost shocked at that, confusing you but you chose not to acknowledge it. You knew that Daryl had seen it too, you could tell based on the tightness in his jaw.

There was something wrong, but you didn’t have to guess what it was. The booze had just started to hit him, which had to be why he was being so bitey.

It wasn’t until she continued with her bubbly teasing that things really started to escalate.

“I've never... been in jail. I mean, as a prisoner”

That did it.

Beth didn’t mean any harm by it, you knew that but it didn’t matter. Daryl had enough to drink that any semblance of calm left him immediately but more than anything, he was hurt.

It was hard enough for him to be in this place, but now she was questioning his character as a person, as if he was dangerous or something. He couldn’t believe it.

“Daryl-”

You started to speak, to try and calm him down before he could get himself too worked up but the wheels in his head had already started turning and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Is that what you think of me?” there was a pain in his voice, a pain that was quickly replaced with anger. It hurt him, but it filled him with rage more.

He had been working his ass off to keep her alive, and to help as many people as he could, but clearly that didn’t matter. She didn’t think anything of who he was.

All she saw when she looked at him was some criminal, and nothing was ever going to change that. That was how everyone saw him, and they always would.

He was just some redneck from the mountains of Georgia and they all knew. He wasn’t going to be anything more than that if they didn’t let him. If she didn’t let him.

It escalated from there.

Daryl ignored your every attempt to calm him and fully spiraled into his anger and upset, until finally you were forced to stop him, knocking him on his ass.

The action alone caught him off guard, but you didn’t care.

He was acting like a total jackass and you weren’t going to let him act that way just because she’s made one comment.

“What the hell are you doing?” Daryl barked, looking up at you with shock dressing his handsome, dirt covered face. There was a brief flash of recollection on his face, telling you he knew he was overreacting.

However, it was too late for that.

There was an anger in your face now too, letting him know just how much he’d messed up.

“You stay there until you get your head out of your ass and stop acting like a child!” you huffed, reaching out casually to take Beth’s arm in your right hand, pulling her away from where Daryl had just had her.

He didn’t do it to hurt her and never would in his right mind but he wasn’t in his right mind right now. As of a few seconds ago, he had been swinging her around like a rag doll, playing with a corpse like a party game.

It was ridiculous and Daryl was better than that.

You knew that Daryl was better than that and you weren’t about to let him act like his daddy and his drunkard of a brother just because he got his feelings hurt.

All over some children's party game.

You could hardly believe it.

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart, I love him but he can be a real asshole when he drinks” you sighed, reaching out to brush one of Beth’s stray blond hairs out of her face.

She wasn’t afraid of Daryl and seemed to understand that the alcohol had a huge impact on the way he was acting, but that didn’t stop her from laughing.

To her, this whole thing was pretty amusing.

You had practically put Daryl in a timeout just now and it was hard not to think that was hilarious. Before now, she thought he was untouchable but that clearly wasn’t the case.

Where you were concerned, Daryl couldn’t bring himself to argue, especially not knowing that he was wrong.

He could have seriously hurt someone or gotten one of you killed and that wasn’t okay. Not to mention the way he’d acted, toward you and toward the girl.

You had every right to do what you did and more but realizing that wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was dealing with what happened afterwards, when he had to apologize for acting that way.

When you first met, he told you that he didn’t believe in apologizing because Merle said only bitches did that but he didn’t believe that.

He never really did believe that. Still, he had always hated apologizing, even though it was absolutely necessary.

“You finally got up outta the dirt?” you started, calling out to him as soon as he rounded the porch, to find both you and Beth sitting there, drinking water and watching the sun go down.

Personally, you had been waiting for him to come but you knew how stubborn he could be, especially if he knew he was wrong. It didn’t surprise you that he was upset.

...But you were just glad he’d showed up before dark.

“‘Sorry ‘bout all that”

The words were for Beth, as they should have been after how he treated her. You were upset with him for how he acted but he hadn’t wronged you, not in the way he had hurt her.

Every word of his apology had better be just for her, but once he’d gotten all settled with her and she had forgiven him, Daryl had a much more foreboding task ahead.

He had to talk to you.

After the last time, he promised you that he wasn’t going to drink again. It was bad for him and bad for everyone around him and that wasn’t even taking this world into account.

He could have gotten himself killed and you weren’t just going to move on from that.

“I-uh”

It was more of a grumble, coming from his throat as he sat down beside you on the wooden porch. He didn’t know where to start, he didn’t even have a clue but it didn’t matter.

The best part about the two of you was that you always knew what he was going to say, even if he didn’t know how to.

“I know you’re sorry, you big lug. Drink up” you suggested, though it was much more of an order as it left your lips. You weren’t in the mood to deal with his stammering apology, you just wanted him.

You wanted your Daryl, not that drunk clone of his big brother who you’d had to deal with for so many years already.

Daryl took the water you offered him gingerly, letting his free arm come to rest across your shoulders, so that you could rest on his chest.

It had been such a long few days, the last thing you needed was to be at each other's throats. “We are never playing that silly game ever again” you muttered, taking in the scent of him.

Daryl smelled like a mix of musk and dirt but to you, he smelled like home and you didn’t need any poorly-made moonshine tainting that.

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anythingandeverything1d · 4 years

Text

Just Friends

“Hey love, how’s it going?” Louis settled himself on the couch next to you with a smile.

You grinned, settling your feet on top of his. “Not too bad, just been crazy busy with work. How have you been? How’s El?”

“She’s good yeah, just been enjoying all this extra time we’ve had. We’ve been going on a lot of walks with the dogs so ya know can’t complain too much.”

“Fitting right into that quarantine life style are ya?” you teased, knocking one of his feet off the table.

He laughed and nodded, moving your feet off his with a swift movement of his legs. “Yeah, yeah, just smashing it really. How are things with you and the crush?” He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed some more, color flooding your cheeks at the thought.

“I mean....he’s with someone else so...”

“Please. If you told him how you felt, he would definitely choose you. You’re better than what’s her face anyway.”

You smiled and nodded, “Thanks Lou, I wish it were that easy.”

“It can be if you want it to be. Just gotta fess up and talk to him now don’t ya?”

“I guess...” You looked at your buzzing phone, smiling at the name. “Speaking go the devil...” You looked up at Louis who was laughing at the irony. “Hey Harry, what’s up?”

“Hey, what are you up to?” His voice was mumbled and distracted but you were just happy he had called.

“Not much, Louis is over here hanging. What are you doing? Do you want to join?” You shook your head, trying not to laugh at the suggestions Louis was mouthing for the conversation.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could do me a favor...I need a ride to Camille’s. The paps were all over my car today when I got home so I was hoping to try and throw them off.”

“Oh.” Your heart dropped and Louis frowned, noticing the shift in mood. “Yeah, yeah I can drive you...when did you want to leave?”

“Sooner the better. Can you pick me up in say 10 minutes?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there soon. Bye.” You hung up and sighed, looking at Louis who was trying to decide what to say.

“Tell him how you feel...”

“On the way to his girlfriend’s house? Yeah right.” You stood up and watched Louis pull out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. “Excuse me? Not in the house. Get out, go on...” You ushered Louis through the door so you could grab your keys. “I’ll only be a bit if you want to stay and hang.”

“No, no that’s okay. I have dinner plans with El tonight so I better get home and clean up. Let me know if you finally decide to tell him how you really feel.”

“Whatever.” You called watching him climb in his car.

“I love you.” “Yeah, yeah, I love you too.” You laughed as Louis flicked you off and hoped in the car to drive to Harry’s.

Harry was waiting down the block from his apartment and you slowed along the curb letting him climb in. “Hey you.” Harry grinned, his cologne filling the car with a relaxing scent and the dimple on his cheek appearing.

“Hi.” You don’t know why you felt nervous, but you did. Maybe Louis’ words had left you with the anxious feeling that you needed to tell him.

“Thanks again for doing this. I really appreciate it. You know how ruthless the paparazzi can be.”

“No problem.” You smiled and tried to cover up the nerves but then again, Harry was too busy texting to really notice anything different.

“You have her address right?”

“Yeah...it’s a few blocks down on the left right?”

“Right. I’m surprising her, she thinks I’m still out of town.”

“Oh...that will be nice.” He looked over a little worried but you quickly added, “I’m sure she will be super excited to see you.”

“I hope.” You pulled up next to her house and he climbed out. “Thanks for the ride (y/n)...you’re the best.”

“No problem....do you need a ride home later?”

“No. I’ll stay with her or she will drive me but thanks again. Love you.”

“Love you too...” you sighed as he closed the door before you could finish. You were a little disappointed...maybe Louis had been right. Maybe you should have confessed. You shook your head, ignoring the feeling of despair sinking lower into your system and drove home.

It had been a few hours and you had settled your feelings with a massive bowl of ice cream and some binge watching of the Office. You had nearly forgotten about the whole Harry incident and wishing you had told him how you felt, distracted by the comedy on the screen in front of you. Your phone buzzed and you laughed at Louis *Loser* text. He knew you hadn’t confronted Harry. You sent back a middle finger emoji and clicked through some of the notifications. Your phone ringing caused you to jump and quickly answered when you saw his name. “Hey H, everything okay?”

“No. I need you to come get me. Please? Like now.” His voice was panicked, and desperate, causing your heart to speed up as if something was wrong.

“Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?” You were already up and on your feet moving towards the car.

“No. Just get here. Fast.”

“I’m on my way.” You hung up and jumped in, flooring it as fast as possible to Camille’s house and thinking about everything that could’ve happened. Was he hurt? Was she hurt? Did he get sick? Is he in pain? Should I call an ambulance or the police? Harry was sitting outside, looking behind him as if someone was following. He jumped in the car, tears trailing down his cheeks. “H...what’s wrong?”

“She’s been cheating on me. I walked in for the surprise and there she was in bed with another guy... She didn’t even try to explain it, just said sorry. Like who does that?”

“I’m sorry...” You bit your lip and tried to think of ways to cheer him up, but nothing logical came to mind other than being supportive and talking through things as always. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“No. No...I don’t want to be alone. Can I just come back with you?” Your heart skipped a beat. Even though he was upset, and clearly just now getting over his girlfriend, you were excited that he relied enough on you to come with you.

You nodded, driving home and glancing over at him. “You know she’s not the one if she caused you pain like this, right Harry?”

“Yeah I know.” He seemed less upset and more thoughtful the closer you got to home. When you pulled in the driveway and turned the car off he turned to you, ready to say something but you were already climbing out. “(y/n).” He hustled around the car and over to you and froze a foot away.

“Yeah?” you stopped, turning to meet him for the question but instead he rushed forward, pulling your body to his, his lips grabbed onto yours and his hands cupping your cheeks. You stood frozen and confused at first, but soon let the feelings take over, responding to the kiss with the enthusiasm that he had as well. You kissed him like you wouldn’t get the chance to again, your hands wrinkling the neatly pressed shirt on his chest.

He briefly pulled away and grinned. Your mouth fell open and you suddenly felt anger ripple through your body. “What the hell was that? You find out your girlfriend is cheating so you just aim for a rebound? Well guess what Harry, I don’t fucking want to be your rebound.” You pushed him farther away and marched toward the door.

“No. Wait. (y/n).” He ran after you, grabbing your elbow and spinning you around to face him. “That wasn’t me looking for a rebound....That was me finally acting on the feelings I’ve been feeling for months.”

“What?” You pulled your arm from his grasp and held both arms close to your chest, trying to understand everything going on.

Harry laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. “(y/n) I’ve been in love with you for months.”

You shook you’re head and scooted farther back, “no...”

Harry was frustrated and upset. He hadn’t seen this going so poorly in his head. “I have...ever since that day when you came to visit on tour. The day I saw you with Noah.” Noah was your ex. You and him had gone to one of Harry’s concerts together, only breaking up shortly after you returned home because he thought you were into Harry more than him...which had been true. “When I saw you with him....him kissing you....dancing with you....making you laugh...I knew I wanted to be that guy. The guy who got to love you unconditionally... I met Camille the following day and knew that if you were with Noah...and if you loved him...I wouldn’t get in the middle. So I started dating Camille. And yeah she was great, I mean she cheated on me but it’s whatever because I knew she was never the one. You are. I really believe that.” He took a step toward you and ran a finger down your cheek.

“Harry....” you sighed, leaning into his hand that was now cupping your cheek. While part of you was enthused about his declaration, another part was confused. “You just got hurt...you just got cheated on...”

“I know but that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t care. You’re the one I want, have wanted...You’re the one who’s always there for me...who”

“That’s the problem though. Don’t you see?” You took another step away and looked at the ground. “When you called me tonight, you were more than upset, I could hear it in your voice. You loved Camille. And while you may love me-”

“I do. I love you.”

“You also need time to heal...I can’t fully trust that you love me...when you were just that upset about losing your girlfriend.”

“(y/n)...” He reached out for you but you shook your head.

“No.” You pulled away again. “I don’t want to be the person you settle for because your girlfriend cheated on you. I know you don’t think that’s what you’re doing but that’s what it feels like. I mean you walked in on your girlfriend cheating and your immediate response was to kiss me...”

“I’m not here to use you. I don’t want you as a rebound...I want you as everything...as my girlfriend...my support system...”

“I’ll always support you....but I also feel like maybe we should just stay where we are.”

“What do you mean? Don’t you have feelings for me? Isn’t there some part of you that wants-”

“Of course!” You yelled. You were frustrated he wasn’t listening. “Harry I’ve been in love with you for months....but I don’t want to be a backup...I want to be the one you actually want...not the one that you go to because your girlfriend picked someone else.”

“That’s not-”

“I know.” You looked into his green eyes and wiped the tear falling down his cheek. “But that’s what it feels like right now...we both need time...time to figure out our feelings when our heads are clear and clustered with all these feelings and emotions...”

“But-”

You shook your head and sighed. “I think...right now...what we need is to just be friends. Just like before. We can see what happens when you’re not upset and tired...”

“Just friends?”

“Just friends.”

#one direction #one direction fanfiction #directioners #one direction imagines #Harry Styles #harrystyles #Harry Syles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

What if; Sooga had a diary that he wrote ALL his dirty little fantasies about Kohga in. And one day, Kohga finds it. Instead of just reading it by himself, which would be humiliating enough for Sooga, Kohga decides to gather all the members of the clan around, and READ SOOGA’S DIARY OUT LOUD FOR EVERYONE TO HEAR

Oooh this is something fun to work with! Let’s go!

“Where the HELL did he hide it?? Dammit Sooga!”

Sooga was currently out training some new yiga members, and Kohga decided to have something sexy planned for when he got back. Only, what he was looking for, Sooga had hidden in his own goddamn room. It was smaller than his own, and yet, Kohga couldn’t fucking find it. A bottle of oil. His FAVORITE oil, that Sooga had used to jerk himself off. Was it hot? Yes. Was it convenient? No. He kept looking through Sooga’s shit, before he finally found what he was looking for. He grabbed it, and was about to make his way back to the room, when he accidentally knocked something over. Some small book.

“Oops. Hopefully that wasn’t anything too important-waaait. What’s this?”

Kohga thumbed through the small, leather bound book. He didn’t read the whole thing, but he soon realized; this was his diary. With a few mentions of Kohga’s ass. Oooh this was a diary. A PERVY diary. This was WAY better than the surprise he had in mind.

----------------------------------

“Alright everyone, asses in front! All of you!”

No one had any idea why Kohga had commanded them forward, much less to his napping spot. It was important, given the fact that he was in his favorite seat. Sooga joined as well, of course, as he did with any event.

“Master Kohga. I was unaware you had something important planned.”

“It’s a last minute thing. Everyone comfy? Good. Because we’re going to have a BIT of a story time.”

Everyone was clearly excited about that, a few even clapped. Anyone loved ANY chance to listen to Kohga’s voice. Kohga whipped out the book, and Sooga looked over it curiously. He didn’t even know just what he was holding. This was going to be good. Kohga cleared his throat, getting comfy.

“Now. Everyone we got today’s material by a certain loyal lackey. He knows who he is.”

Kohga turned to a random page, and stopped as soon as he saw the word ‘ass’. Perfect.

“Ahem. ‘I’m ashamed to admit this, but I caught myself looking at Master Kohga’s ass today. I was just watching over as he slept, and I noticed how full and voluptuous it was. I was SO tempted to touch it, and had I not been interrupted by another member of the clan, wanting to know if Kohga needed snacks, I may have succumbed to those emotions. Even now, as I try to rest, I picture how it would feel in my hands’”

The recognition in his face. The recognition in ALL of their faces. Sooga made a beeline for the book, eager to silence him, but Kohga held his hand up. Sooga stopped on instinct, but he could tell he wanted SO badly to snatch it. Kohga wagged his finger in the air.

“Ah ah ah~. Sit, Sooga.”

“But Master Kohga, you CANNOT read-”

“Are you telling me what I can and can’t do, Sooga?”

He hesitated, before sitting down on his knees, keeping his gaze to the ground. Sooga patted his head, before turning to the next page.

“Oh here’s a good one. ‘I have acted poorly today. Instead of just resting, like one is supposed to for peak performance, I was up all night. I wasn’t trying to, I swear it, but I kept thinking of Kohga’s hands. Kohga’s hands are so nimble, so soft looking, I’d do anything to have them touch me. My own hand upon my cock is surely a poor comparison to the real thing. I’d do anything to just cum in his palm, just once, have him shove it in my face and tell me I’ve been filthy’. Damn Sooga, you got a bit into that one!”

A few members chuckled, some were eager to hear more of Sooga’s dirty, dirty fantasies, and Kohga swore he caught one or two touching themselves. All while Sooga stood there, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze. He was humiliated, and there was something so sexy, knowing his pride of a boyfriend wrote such dirty words. Kohga skimmed through before finding another page.

“‘I couldn’t believe myself. I had meant to deliver something to Master Kohga today, only to accidentally catch him in his bath. The door wasn’t fully closed, so I caught a glimpse of his nude body. I forced myself to walk away, but I only came back. It was worse off this time, as I had my favorite toy inside of me (the yellow one). I don’t know what compelled me to sit there and watch, picturing the fake gerth inside of me was Kohga’s. Kohga had such a soft looking body, but his random bouts of chuckling led me to believe that he is quite heavy handed in the bedroom. It wasn’t difficult for me to orgasm, right as I was watching him scrub his legs. I felt embarrassed, knowing I had puddle of cum in my pants, but it was worth it, if only to live in the fantasy that Master Kohga would one day have me, to use me as he wishes’. Didn’t know you were such a pervert, Sooga!”

Even Kohga had to palm himself a little bit, a bit aroused by so many naughty confessions from his second hand. A few more were palming themselves, a few others were muttering over how naughty it was. All while Sooga stood there, gripping onto his knees, as if he was bracing for the pain. Kohga flipped through another page, not struggling to find another dirty page.

“Ooh okay okay, wait guys hold on, this ones gonna be good. ‘Kohga demanded I stay in his quarters tonight. Something about not feeling safe for whatever reason. No matter, I was determined to keep him safe. Little did I know, he wasn’t safe. Not from me. Master Kohga was asleep, and his mask was nudged. I saw his lips. I saw that they were luscious, soft as the clouds and pretty as a flower petal. I should’ve looked away. I should’ve covered him back up. I didn’t. I’m such a disgrace, I started to touch myself. I was sitting there in the corner, wanking off like a damn ape, picturing Kohga’s lips on my own. It was awful, but it felt SO good. Even as Kohga grumbled in his slumber, I felt only more and more aroused. Even as I write, my cock throbs at recalling just how it was possibly one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I found myself cumming all over Kohga’s mask. Ribbons of cum littered his mask, and I was thankful that I was able to get it off. Master Kohga must never know. No one must never know that I defiled my Master’s body, and trust’. Hooo, Sooga! You busted a nut right on me? I think I remember this date!”

Kohga swore he was at half chub now. Dirty, dirty boy he had in his hands. The clan was eager for him to read more, prompting him to keep going. Kohga turned to the last page, and he noticed Sooga’s demeanor changed. He had shrunken down, as if he didn’t want to be seen by his peers. This was gonna be the WORST one, he could tell.

“Okay, last one guys, then we’ll spare our poor, poor Sooga. ‘I’ve done many things in my life that I am not proud of. Knowing Master Kohga has become one of them.’”

Kohga sat up at that. Hello, that was new. The amusement seemed to die down a bit at such a statement. Kohga sat up, fully paying attention, in case he was reading it wrong.

“I have known many sick minded people. From my father, to the enemies I encounter on a daily basis. But not once have I encountered someone so deranged, so on the peak of insanity, as the grand Master Kohga’.”

He wasn’t finished with the page, but the yiga clan looked damn ready to beat the shit out of Sooga. Sooga sat there in shame, not ONCE defending himself. Kohga felt his mouth dry up, but if dirty laundry had to be aired, might as well do all of it. He swallowed, and with a quiver from his voice due to the anger, forced himself to continue.

“‘Master Kohga is nothing short of a madman. He may hold everyone’s adoration, may have everyone convinced he is that like a god, but I have been unblinded, ever since the day after the party. I know the truth.’”

The clan was boring holes into Sooga’s head, and Kohga was besides himself. How could he say all of those things? Even in his stupid diary. Kohga was fully pissed now, standing up as he finished it off, ready to beat Sooga’s no good, back stabbing ass.

“‘For why else would the most beautiful, the most charismatic, the most talented man I’ve ever met, be in love with me? Someone who is far from charming, someone is such a fool to believe that someone so incredible could love him as much as he claims? Kohga had to be insane, and I must be a fool.’”

Kohga suddenly found himself standing there like an idiot, honestly unable to form words. He looked at Sooga, who refused to look back up at him. He wasn’t ashamed over his dirty fantasies (well maybe he was a little), he was ashamed over this part, right here. Kohga motioned for everyone to leave, and everyone obeyed, though they clearly looked hesitant to do so. Once the room cleared, Sooga stood up, clearly in a panic.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t want you to read me saying something so AWFUL towards y-”

He was interrupted by Kohga suddenly wrapping his arms around him in a hug, nearly squeezing the life out of him.

“I love you. I really love you.”

Sooga was unsure what to do, before he just squeezed him just as tightly.

“I...take it I’m forgiven.”

“For nearly giving me a heart attack? Barely. For the wanking stuff? Yeah. You’re so stupid, dammit.”

He was crazy. But it seems as though they both were.

#asks #kohga #sooga #lemon

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cyn-00 · 4 years

Text

Moreid one shot, 22 - "strings"

Another one inspired by season 5, episode 10 "The slave of duty", though with an entirely different focus compared to my other fic based on that same episode (which btw was my FIRST can u believe that)

I'm gonna remind you of a couple things that are important to understand this work (the plot of the episode/case aren't tbh): this is that period in the show where Morgan is taking Hotch's place in leading the team; plus Reid's been recently shot in the knee so he has his cane and everything. The first dialogue is word by word reported from the show and then I go from there ;)

@upsetti0spaghettiii and @rollcreditsyall asked me to tag 'em <3 hope u like it

Read it on AO3

-------------

"We need fresh eyes..." Rossi mumbled, more as if telling himself than the rest of the team.

Morgan acknowledged the older man's hint and sighed deeply, sinking further in his swivel chair. "A'ight, listen up,"

He continued once everyone's eyes darted up to him almost as quickly as they'd dart up to Hotch - which always lit Spencer up with pride, somehow.

"I want everybody to go back to the hotel and try to get some rest. We're gonna have to pick this up again in the morning."

Prentiss poorly contained a taken aback expression. "Wha- we're giving up?"

Reid was this close to piercing her skull with a laser-glare, because Morgan was RIGHT - how could she not see that they were getting nowhere? But then again: would've looked like he was playing the part of the blindly supportive boyfriend. Which, he never did.

"No." Morgan shot his head up to glance at her; albeit with anything but malice in his eyes. "We're gonna take a break. We have to give the profile at morning roll and none of us has slept since the funeral."

Realization; painted on Emily's features. Now do you see? Reid wanted to ask - he didn't, of course.

"Once Garcia can get us a paper trail, then we can expand our canvas. 'Till then there's really not a lot we can do." Morgan concluded, and silence fell in the room like a heavy blanket, smothering whatever other retort his teammates may raise.

Reid waited for the others to exit the room before standing up and making his way around the desk, straining against the searing pang that shot up from his healing knee at the motion.

He settled behind Morgan's chair and let his free arm loosely encircle him from behind, resting his palm on the man's broad, tense chest.

After unnecessarily checking once again that there weren't any nosy officers peeking from outside, he carefully bent down to reach Derek's temple and place a lingering kiss there.

"You did the right thing." he murmured, and immediately felt the other man releasing a breath at his words.

"I know." Derek responded shortly, finally moving from that concerningly petrified position to place his palm over Spencer's hand, pressing more firmly to discourage him from breaking contact.

Spencer allowed his tired eyes to flutter close for a few seconds as he rested his cheek on his boyfriend's head, relying on his trusted cane not to let him fall headlong on the moquette - "who's the idiot that decided putting moquette in a police station conference room was a good idea?", he recalled the comment Derek had whispered to his ear a few hours before, and he recalled thinking that only someone as obsessed with everything furniture-wise as Derek Morgan could notice and care about such a thing as a police station flooring. "Pfft... good luck with washing that if someone spills coffee".

The thought awakened him before it could bring a stupid, unbidden smile to his lips.

Washing. Soap, warm water, shampoo... he needed a well deserved-

"Shower." Derek's voice and the noise of lips briefly smacking on his palm resonated in the genius' half-asleep ears. "Need a shower."

Spencer smiled now. "Me too."

"I know. Could hear you thinkin' about it." Derek left another kiss on Spencer's wrist before gripping on the armrests to stand up, needing him to lift his warm cheek seemingly melting on the top of his head to do so.

"C'mon," he encouraged, turning around to finally take a look at the man's sleepy face.

"Gotta help Goldilocks here shampoo up." he grinned warmly, tilting his head.

Spencer only snorted, because with that damn smile what the hell could he say to the man.

Reid sighed deeply as he slumped onto the toilet lid, resting his cane against the tiled wall of the bathroom.

He took off his jacket and pulled his sweater vest over his head, and the second he began maneuvering with his tie, a pair of hands landed over his.

He glanced up slightly annoyed, but gave in to let those hands do the work nonetheless.

"It's the pants I struggle with, not the upper part of my body." he specified for the millionth time - the millionth time he'd found Derek helping him get out of his tie and shirt even though he could do that by himself just fine.

Morgan arched a brow and scoffed, keeping his gaze leveled with the collar of the other man's button-up. "What's in it for me if I don't at least get to undress my boy, uh?"

Spencer contained a smile, ducking his head to look at Derek's hands proceeding to undo the buttons once he'd slid the tie away.

"Not exactly the type of undressing you'd wished for, I'm guessing..." he mumbled sheepishly after a couple seconds.

Derek's eyebrows furrowed now. He said more with those eyebrows of his than he did with his words.

"Any type of undressing you is the type of undressing I wish for..." he trailed off, and Spencer noticed his shirt had magically slid off of his shoulders and was being untucked from his slacks.

Derek's smile grew as his pupils traced from the skinny man's hips up to his chest and laced with his eyes at last.

"It's that I enjoy the view regardless, pretty boy." he added winking, before placing a kiss right over the man's heart.

Spencer didn't say anything. His usual "whatever you say" or the like would only supply him with Derek's eye-roll and another cascade of cheesy praising followed by Spencer's impulse to kiss him and then a few other things which he didn't have the physical strength to engage in, in that moment.

So he settled for thinking those things, lost in his own head while his eyes followed each one of Derek's careful motions that only resulted in layers and layers of clothing peeling off of his body, unable to pinpoint when exactly he had propped up to let the man pull his pants down to his ankles.

The only thing he managed to feel, right after the piercing cold ceramic under his thighs once his slacks were no longer cladding them, was the noise of the brace straps and the sensation of it freeing his leg and then-

"Ouch- Waitwaitwait, Der- wait" he pleaded through gritted teeth, as a twinge of pain awakened him from his pleasant reverie.

"I'm sorry baby, I know this part always hurts like hell" Derek said, and they both knew the 'part' he was referring to was the one where Spencer had to stretch his leg, numb and strained from having it caged in that hellish plastic brace for hours straight.

Spencer nodded and let his boyfriend do the rest - the first couple times he had tried to protest and get through everything on his own, feeling nothing short of a burden and decidedly embarrassed. Now, though, he knew there was no point in arguing, not simply because arguing with Derek when it came to taking care of Spencer was pointless to say the very least; but mostly because Derek was inexplicably good at taking care of him. Doctor Reid could surely brag about his PhDs, but Derek seemed to own every medical training in the world when he had to care for Spencer's pain.

The other man rose to his feet for a few seconds, taking the forgotten plastic stool in the corner of the room and placing it in the shower, before starting the water to get it as warm as Spencer liked it. Which meant, 3rd-degree-burn warm.

He returned to kneel in front of the naked genius in his briefs and mismatched socks only, smiling fondly at the sight.

He gently grabbed Spencer's ankles to slip off his socks - it made his toes curl and Derek adored it - and wrapped his strong arms around his boyfriend's skinny torso to pull him up to his bare feet.

Spencer only slightly hissed and grasped onto Derek's shoulders like his life depended on it - which, it kinda did, seeing how the worryingly sharp edge of the marble bathroom counter seemed to be waiting just for the man to wobble under the weight of his recently wounded knee.

Derek hooked his fingers in the elastic band of his boyfriend's underwear and let it fall to the floor so the other could step out of it - just a week ago that same, easy action almost cost Spencer to trip over and smash his skull straight into the sliding glass door of his shower; but Derek pushed that memory away because acting like the overly protective boyfriend wasn't gonna make things any better or easier, anyway.

It's just. Spencer was so fragile. There was no denying that. His brain was worth all their brains added together if not more, but dammit could a bruise stain his fair skin for weeks on end; reason why they'd given up on hickeys a long time ago - at least visible ones - in light of the fact that ever-lasting purple marks weren't exactly a good idea in their line of work.

"Derek, uhm, I'm taking a wild guess your fully clothed self doesn't know how cold it is in this bathroom, but, it's cold." Spencer's complaint brought him out of his head.

He looked down at himself and, indeed, he was fully clothed still.

"Wanna bet that I won't be as cold as you? You just like to whine a lot don't you?" Derek teased, pulling his henley off.

"It would be decidedly stupid of me to bet on such obviousness ? It's granted that you won't feel as cold as me considering that I'm skinnier; muscle heats up the body through metabolism as well as fat which works as an insulating-"

Reid's babbling was cut off by the man's laughter.

"...what? What's so funny?"

"I finally got naked for you and that's still not enough to stop your fact-spewing?"

Derek saw Spencer gulping and scanning him from head to toe.

"...right" he murmured, biting the inside of his cheek.

Morgan brought the other's pink-tinted face back up with his hands, lifting his gaze from where it was lingering on some undefined area very much below his usual approximately 5'8-something horizon line, and placed a kiss between his eyebrows.

"Come on. I ain't gonna risk you getting a cold on top of everything else." he said softly, securing Spencer's waist with two hands from behind to lead him first into the shower.

And thank God that one was an actual shower, instead of that bathtub the two of them barely fit in with a half-unhooked plastic curtain from that crappy motel the team found themselves having to spend a whole 6 days in, just a couple weeks before. And thank God for the stool, also, because helping Spencer through a shower while either standing or sitting on the floor were provenly exhausting techniques for both of them.

Derek eased his boyfriend into said stool and could immediately see him relaxing under the warm water. He dropped on his knees and started untangling the man's matted curls with his fingers - Spencer had confessed that, before Derek, he only used to untangle the knots with a comb after having showered because he didn't have the time or patience to do otherwise, but Morgan had rightfully reminded him that he had not one but two sisters, hence he was so used to observe how carefully their mom routinely brushed and braided their hair when they were little he could repeat the process by heart - so at the end of the day, "I might be bald but I sure know more about curls than you do, pretty boy".

After having managed to loosen maybe a couple of major tangles at most - nothing out of the ordinary - he reached for the shampoo and squeezed a generous amount on his palm, smearing it on both hands before spreading it onto Spencer's mop of hair.

Morgan had always wondered how the hell the kid always smelt so good; the rare times he could perceive something other than the cozy smell of coffee that almost perpetually imbued Spencer's aura. For some unfounded reason, his first guess had been that the source of such sweet smell must've been Spencer's cologne. After a month at most of knowing him, though, the hypothesis that the lanky genius with the crooked tie and that cardigan Morgan couldn't picture as anyone else's but his grandfather's actually wore cologne, was thrown out of the window. So he'd quite confidently settled for option B, which entailed that the scent had to have something to do with the detergent he used for his clothes. Little did he know he would find himself in Reid's bathroom some night after a case, and his eyes would be caught by a plastic, peach-pink bottle of shampoo that, to his "surprise", smelled like...like Spencer. Like something sweet and fruity with a spicy hint of cinnamon. And it's not like Morgan wasn't aware of the notorious, rom-com cliché that the aphrodisiac smell of the person you're hopelessly pining over is more likely due to their shampoo than anything else; it's more that he didn't want to give in the realization that not only Spencer's hair looked good - and, much later on, felt good twirled around his fingers - but on top of that it smelt good. Oh, dammit, my crush's hair smells like heaven which only adds to the fact that he probably fell from there, seeing how it makes him look like a downright ANGEL. Come on. Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan would've preferred without a smidge of doubt to remain unbeknownst of that, for the sake of his poor heart.

Poor heart, indeed, when Spencer started literally purring close-eyed under the soothingly kneading motions of Derek's digits through his hair. There was really no reason to keep on massaging the shampoo on Spencer's scalp for 5 minutes straight, if not that sight.

"Spencer?" he called, failing to contain the urge to lean in and peck at his lips.

"Hmm ?" the dopey man hummed in response.

"Sweetie, don't fall asleep on me here, yeah?"

" 'm trying. But you're not helping." Spencer mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his fingers from the water streaming down his face to open them in slits.

"Ah, so now it's my fault that you get all dreamy when I play with your hair?"

Spencer frowned. "Uhm, yes ?"

The other man chuckled. "Alright. Got the message." he claimed before standing briefly to his feet to grab the sprayer.

"Mmh' no this is even worse..." Spencer mewled when his boyfriend started rinsing his hair with warm water, running his fingers through it to be as thorough as possible.

Derek burst out laughing. "You're unbelievable, I swear to God." he said, making quick work of the rinsing process or else he would've undoubtedly have to drag a passed out, naked Spencer out of the shower.

He put the sprayer back in place and took the shower gel - he had to use the unscented, cheap, exceedingly liquid sample from the hotel - and poured it on his palm.

Spencer held out his hands in a cup-like shape as if waiting for Derek to give him a share of the gel. He looked up at him and arched a brow.

The genius rolled his eyes. "If you don't provide me with something to do I'm gonna seriously fall asleep in here."

Derek nodded and complied. "Lame excuse."

"For what?" the other asked like he didn't know when actually he knew.

"For laying your hands on me?" Derek teased with his 'you can't fool me' tone. "But I ain't complaining, just so we're clear..." he smirked.

After that, Spencer gave up on countering further but his expression didn't waver much; and Derek couldn't even relish in the satisfaction of holding that comment 100% accountable for the flush dyeing Spencer's chest and neck, because it could've very well been mostly due to the steam and hot water.

Both started spreading the gel onto each other's shoulders and necks and torsos, and Morgan wouldn't have managed to tear his gaze away from the skinny man sat in front of him even if he'd purposely tried. Spencer's concentrated expression was the same whether he was solving Schrödinger's equation or he was stirring his coffee with a spoon.

Hazel eyes locked with Derek's after a while, only for a split second before their owner launched himself into his arms; a soapy hand cupping the back of his neck and a warm muzzle burying in his slippery shoulder.

Derek didn't question and simply indulged in the hug, tracing circles with his thumbs on the nubs of Spencer's spine as he let his cheek lean against the top of his head.

"Thank you." a muffled whisper breached through the continuous noise of water thrumming on ceramic and glass and steel surfaces.

"Stop thanking me, kid. I love you." how many times had Morgan found himself saying those exact words, if maybe arranged in different fashions, throughout 5 years of working with Reid? Only difference was that the last bit hadn't always born the meaning it bore now. Almost, though.

After one or two minutes more - Derek couldn't quite gauge, and the fact that Spencer most definitely could brought a slight smile to his lips - Reid let go of the hug; and it was only because being soaked from head to toe blurred out things a little that Morgan couldn't swear the man was a second away from crying.

Reid looked down at his wrinkly finger pads.

"We're wasting an unnecessary amount of water." he said with a small grin curling one edge of his mouth. If Spencer's previous expression rendered almost unreadable by that soaked-head-to-toe situation hadn't been enough to go by, his current tone and the look that went along with it surely were.

However, Morgan didn't mention it, and the couple spent the rest of the shower rinsing the bubbles off of their bodies in soothing quiet.

The comfortable quiet kept going unhindered as Derek helped Spencer up and out of the shower, as he wrapped a towel around his bony hips, as Spencer brushed his dripping hair with a wooden comb while watching the standing man put on his sweats and t-shirt. Their exchanges merely fond glances here and hands caressing cheeks there and fingers bumping on skins like silent reminders that they were together in this just as much as in everything else that might come in their way and break them, whether inside or out or both it didn't matter as long as they were Spencer and Derek and Derek and Spencer.

And so together they walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, both pleasantly surprised by how they managed to not let Spencer slip on the steam-coated floor.

In a matter of minutes he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, which wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as sitting on the crappy stool or the toilet lid, much to Spencer's relief.

And Spencer Reid was notoriously not one to count his chickens before they'd hatched, but this time...

"Oh baby...does it still hurt so bad?" Morgan asked with full-on worry creasing his handsome features, at the sight of his boyfriend screwing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw while his leg bounced up and down - the leg not injured, that is. He'd caught Spencer doing that sometimes during work and he'd quickly figured it was his way to cope with pangs.

Spencer simply nodded his head frantically and grabbed both the man's hands to squeeze them in a knuckle-whitening clutch.

His boyfriend's sigh was so deep Spencer didn't need to actually see to picture the rising and falling of his chest as visible to the naked eye.

"I'm gonna get the pills the doctor prescribed you and I don't wanna hear you complain." the man asserted.

The second Reid felt him on the verge of standing up, he squeezed his hands even tighter and made an effort to open his eyes.

"No, nonono I- I took it 2 and a half hours ago I can't take anymore for another hour and a half at least." he protested, shaking his head vigorously and staring pleadingly at him.

Morgan sighed again, and this time Reid could see it.

"Ok, alright, then...did you bring that ointment he gave you?"

Spencer's pupils fidgeted around in thought.

"Yeah. Y- yeah, I- I have that in my bag." he replied, stuttering with the abruptness of his realization.

Derek stood up for real now, fetching said ointment.

He came back a minute later and resumed his kneeling position, squeezing some of the balm on his fingers and warming it up by rubbing his hands. He started massaging it onto his boyfriend's knee, and the heavy mass weighing on his chest was lifted like magic when Spencer's muscles relaxed and his deadly grip on the blankets loosened.

Another 'thank you' was about to escape Spencer's mouth, but then he opted to swallow it and instead relish in the sensation of Derek's thumbs rubbing the slick balm in circles at either side of his wounded kneecap; watching him as though if he didn't keep an eye on him he would disappear.

He didn't know how much time had passed, because that was one of those few occasions he'd allowed himself not to keep count of things - most of those occasions were the ones he spent with Derek - but it must have been quite a while because by the time Derek spoke up again, the pain had melted away and his knee was glistening and warm and his heart was fuzzy and vibrating inside his ribcage.

"Better?" the man asked.

Spencer waited a second for him to raise his gaze from the task at hand and direct it toward his, and for the smile that he knew was coming to actually come, before answering.

When that happened, he said: "Definitely."

And if Derek's grin didn't widen it was just because it couldn't get bigger than half of his face, and because it had to be a crime to smile more brightly than that.

"Alright then. Gonna get cleaned up and then I'll help you with pj's."

Spencer opened his mouth to dismiss his offer but was immediately cut off by a finger raised threateningly at him.

"Nope. I don't wanna hear it, I told you." Derek reprimanded before heading to the bathroom.

The few minutes Morgan spent washing his hands and pacing around the room to get the other's t-shirt and flannel pants were enough for the warm and fuzzy feeling to seep out of Reid's skin and be replaced by unsettling thoughts he never enjoyed wallowing in, but especially not in that moment.

It was exactly that same feeling from earlier reoccurring to him, the feeling that if he let Derek out of his sight for a second he would lose him - more specifically Derek would leave him. And of course during work the time they spent apart was much more than the one they spent together, but in a working context it was simply...different. Different in a way Spencer couldn't name. It was when they were alone that the feeling came back to choke him with its evil claws; and it was such a foreign one considering that Reid had spent most of his childhood AND adulthood alone, so one would simply guess he was used to it. Maybe it was exactly that: that he'd got so used to being alone he couldn't help but cling onto the first thing that made him not alone, and if in the beginning that thing had been his team and later on the team stopped being enough and it became Dilaudid, now that thing was Derek, and Derek was more than enough for the time being - Spencer was pretty confident he would be enough for the rest of his life, but what if it weren't mutual ? What if Spencer wasn't enough for Derek - for that matter, how could Spencer be enough for anyone? What if Derek left ?

"-encer? Baby you good in there?"

Then what would the next thing be and would a 'next thing' even exist or should he just settle for being alone all over again, only this time he would know the feeling of NOT being alone - would he ever recover from that?

"Hey, kid, c'mon now,"

Could he forget what it had felt like not being alone and learn to suffice for himself?

"Spencer seriously, talk to me ?"

Could Spencer Reid learn to finally FORGET if forgetting meant surviving?

"Spencer, come on baby you're starting to scare me here."

Reid ultimately managed to snap out of his head and realize Morgan had been trying to pull him out of it all along. He felt a hand cradling his jaw and words reaching his eardrums and his name being called in endless sequence.

He shook his head and gaped for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm here, sorry I- just, I was...thinking, I'm sorry..." he swallowed and jerked his eyes away from Derek's because the look he was giving him was a bit too much.

Morgan released a heavy exhale, as his hand shifted to rest on the back of Reid's head, massaging his nape to ground him again.

"Sorry."

"Don't start. Just tell me what you were thinking."

A grimace of reluctance crinkled Spencer's sweet face. "...do I have to?"

"Yes." Derek asserted. "Puppy-eyes won't work this time."

Spencer bit his lip to contain a lopsided, amused smile.

"Well," he shrugged. "it was worth the shot."

Derek snorted in response, visibly relaxing at having managed to reclaim their usual playful banter.

The other man was grateful that Morgan hadn't pried, instead reaching a hand out beside the spot where Spencer was sitting to grab his fresh pair of briefs. The warm-fuzzy feeling partially found its way back through Spencer's bloodstream at the thought that Derek probably knew by now how he was more likely to talk brake-free and open heartedly when he wasn't being overtly pressured to do so.

Derek carefully untucked the towel from around Spencer's hips and rose to a half-standing position to prop him up a few inches from the bed and slide it away from underneath him. He helped the man's long legs inside his underwear and lifted him once again to pull it up; he took the slightly moist towel and used it to ruffle Spencer's hair in the attempt to wipe it dry a little - again: a cold wasn't the greatest idea at the moment - gaining his signature nose scrunch and finally, Spencer started spilling.

"I was thinking about this whole...situation." Reid murmured with a sigh.

Morgan considered his words for a few seconds - uncaring of having probably given the man the impression that he wasn't listening - while minutely un-messing the strands of brunette, damp hair he'd messed up with the towel and adjusting them behind Spencer's ears.

"Meaning?" he asked at last; more to give the man the liberty of elaborating how he wanted than because he hadn't picked up on the 'situation' he was referring to.

"Meaning...you taking on Hotch's role temporarily ?" Spencer supplied, raising his pitch at the end as though it were a question.

"What about it, sweetie?" he urged on gently, stopping his ministrations to rub his hands up and down Spencer's sides affectionately.

"I, uh..." Reid cleared his voice. "I just realized that- well, m- maybe it's that I didn't want to think about it so that's why I'm realizing it only now but, anyway; I realized that if...if Hotch isn't coming back..." he trailed off, looking down at his knees.

Derek took the hint and started moving again, picking Spencer's flannel pants and guiding his feet inside them.

Spencer waited for the lift-and-pull-up part to be over - because it was too draining to do that AND talk simultaneously - before conjuring his train of thought again.

"If Hotch doesn't come back, you'll be the new Unit Chief." Reid said, once he was sitting down.

Morgan hesitated, furrowing his brows in confusion as to why Reid would feel the need to state the obvious.

"Yeah." he simply confirmed.

Spencer visibly refrained from explaining, choosing to spend the next few seconds picking at the worn fabric of his pajama pants - now that he wasn't naked anymore and finally had something to fiddle with - sticking uncomfortably to the layer of ointment covering his knee.

As per usual, Morgan's brain was struggling to keep up with his boyfriend's pondering.

But then it hit him.

"Oh..." Derek dropped his gaze; his confused and apprehensive expression fading away to make space for a melancholic and apologetic one.

"...yeah" Spencer murmured. But then decided that a monosyllabic answer wasn't enough, and opted to unfold his thoughts more clearly.

"It means that...that you'll be our superior- my superior, hence we couldn't...you and I, we, we won't be allowed to..." he gulped. He knew his bottom lip was trembling. He could feel it. But he had to say it, or else the concept would eat him alive.

"...to be together anymore. Right?" Spencer concluded with a quivering voice.

Derek wanted to get back to doing what he was supposed to be doing to give them both some more seconds to digest that, but for some reason he feared that if he'd proceeded to help Spencer in his last piece of clothing, the man would've looked even more vulnerable and small in that saggy t-shirt than he did now that he was bare in any sense of the word in front of him.

So he slowly brushed his hands down Spencer's lap to entangle them with his.

"...unless I choose not to." he mumbled.

The genius' scowling glance shot up.

"What?? No. No, I won't let you do that."

Morgan sighed, tilting his head. "Spencer-"

"No, Derek. I couldn't live with myself knowing that you turned down the greatest job opportunity of your life to stay with me."

And that much was the truest statement Spencer had ever made, even if the only thought of breaking up with Derek made every cell in his body ache and his heart bleed out and his bones shatter like a china cup dropping on a granite floor.

Derek stared at him for a while with flat-out disbelief pasted on his face.

"Spencer," he started, and immediately shook his head, unable to contain a snort. Spencer's frown didn't but intensify at that.

"Kid, look. I know that you'd respect my decision to accept the job. I know it because you're one of the most ambitious and over-achieving people I know and I feel nothing but blessed to have someone like you by my side." he paused. "You inspire me in that sense, you know?"

Spencer didn't answer, but his gaze softened instinctively.

"But it's because I know you respect everything I do that I'd be disappointed to know that you made the exception to NOT support me if I decided to turn down the offer."

The words hit Spencer in a certain spot at the base of his skull, but he couldn't bring himself to be ungrateful for Derek being so honest and blunt about the matter.

So he nodded.

Derek continued, because he wasn't convinced at all that the man had got the message.

"And believe me when I say that the reason why I wouldn't accept it isn't because I pity you or I don't wanna leave 'poor Spencer' alone or whatever." he made the air-quote gesture and untangled a hand from Spencer's to bring it to his cheek.

"It's because to me accepting a title that by the way, I'm not even 100% sure that I want, it's not worth leaving the person I'm in love with."

With that last bit, Derek didn't need to forcibly bring his boyfriend's chin up to meet his eyes - Spencer had instantly done that on his own initiative.

"I would NOT be able to leave you, Spencer. For my sake, not out of pity. I know myself." he whispered, stroking his thumb on the other's cheek.

Spencer kept returning the other's stare for what they both perceived like 30 minutes, in search for the slightest hint of lie in Derek's eyes. Which, obviously, he gladly failed to summon.

So he inched closer and pressed their lips together, because kissing Derek seemed like the easier way to both reply to his confession and stop his bottom lip from trembling with the force of emotion welling up in his eyes.

Derek's mouth went along as his arms encircled his boyfriend's dainty frame to carefully shift him closer, until his body was the only thing keeping him from falling off the mattress. He captured every silky motion of Spencer's tongue with unmatched slowness; as if the more thorough the kiss, the better he could savor the man's unspoken words and enshrine them forever in his mind, only fueling his already unarguable conviction that no, he couldn't let this man slip away like it wasn't him that kept Derek's lungs breathing and his heart pounding and his limbs working.

With one last smack of lips Spencer gasped out of the kiss, keeping their foreheads glued together and his eyes shuttered because it was clear now that he didn't need to see the man to know he wouldn't leave, but his skin couldn't do without the feeling of Derek's against it nonetheless.

Slowly, he opened his lids and noticed the pair of pitch-black eyes in front of his were staring at him.

He smiled when he spotted a bright glimmer deep inside them, and was returned with a smile of Derek's own.

"Plus," Morgan's hoarse voice gently poked through the silence, as both his hands rose to cup the other's face.

"I know we shouldn't profile each other and all that, but dad really doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not with us, so my money's on him coming back." he joked.

Spencer burst in the prettiest giggle Derek had ever heard and let his head fall onto the other's shoulder.

"Y-yeah, mine too." he agreed once he'd recomposed himself enough to straighten in his seat again.

"Let's put this t-shirt on and go to sleep, uh?" Derek offered.

The genius nodded, and in a matter of 5 minutes at most, the two were a mess of entangled limbs - both injured and not - instants away from falling asleep; with a few less doubts stinging their hearts and just as many newfound strings keeping them together.

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