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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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Sum of All 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’re drenched. Sweat slakes on your forehead and down the back of your neck. Your chest is sticky and your clothes are damp. You grumble as you drift up to consciousness into the stolid air. Your mouth is dry your throat coarse, and your scalp slick.

It’s so damn hot in here. You wipe the sheen from your cheek as you bend your leg higher around the edge of the blanket. You open your eyes as your skirt rides up over your ass, exposing your hot flesh to the room. The hotel room...

You’re not alone.

You push yourself up as the previous day washes over you. You blink dizzily as your vision clears. Your gaze clings to the man next to you. Naked, exposed except for the fortunately placed corner of the blanket across his pelvis. You gulp at the power woven into his firm muscles.

You turn your legs over the edge of the bed and peel your thighs apart. You cross the room, groaning, and twist the dial on the air conditioner. Nothing happens. You click it back and forth groggily.

The grunt from behind you makes you jump. You stand straight and face Rogers,as his arm fall over the edge of the bed. He stretches, arching his back, and drags his other hand over his face.

“The hell is it so hot?” He growls.

“AC’s broke,” you shrug.

He turns his head and his lashes flick as he sees you. You shuffle step and stop. His eyes wander down your body. You look down and flinch. Your camisole is crooked, exposing one side of your bra and your skirt is wrinkled up above your thighs. You fix your clothes and clear your throat.

“Great,” he sits up curls his shoulders forward as he uses his fingers to untangle his hair. “So much for that shower.”

“Uh, yeah,” you try to smooth out the fabric of your skirt. “Shoot.”

“Bag’s in the car,” he grumbles. He grabs a pillow and stands, shielding himself with it as he moves around. You turn away, embarrassed.

“I could get it--”

“Keys are on the table,” he grumbles and crosses to the bathroom.

You flit around him and snatch up the keys. You need space as much as you need the fresh air. You step into your heels and hurry out the door. This is strange and awkward. How can he be so unbothered by all of it? And you still don’t know what this mysterious job is.

You go down to the car and after finding the trunk empty, discover his leather bag in the back seat. It’s heavier than you expect. Probably not to him.

You take your time going back and hesitate to enter. What if he’s just... naked...

You enter with your eyes down. He’s on the bed, the blanket over his lap as he stares at his phone. You don’t like how familiar this is getting.

“Here,” you put the bag by the bed. “I’ll give you the room. Guess you don’t want to waste time--” You go to grab your blouse.

“You should wash up,” he insists. “Got a long day and important people to meet.”

“Right, er...” you look at your blouse and your skirt, “you think there’s an iron in here?”

He grabs the bag and lifts it onto the bed with one arm. He unzips it and pulls out a pair of folded slacks, then some more fabric; boxers you try to ignore.

“Stay, shower,” he says. “I’ll go find something you can wear.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I can make this work--”

“Hey,” he says sharply. “Let’s get something straight, right now. The people we’re dealing with, you don’t argue with me in front of them. You just do what I say.”

“Gee, okay,” you say, startled by the sudden edge in his voice.

He sighs and unfolds the boxer. Your eyes round and quickly step around the bed. “You’re right, I'll have a shower.”

You quickly hide in the bathroom before you can see much more. It’s only hot because of the AC, nothing else. A nice cold shower will do the trick.

You get undressed and crank on the water. You step behind the curtain and sigh. You never knew ice cold water could be this refreshing. As it pings off your chest, you hear an odd creak.

The curtain darkens with a silhouette on the other side. Is he... in there? You can make out his dark clothing and his vague figure. You’re all too conscious of how much he can probably see of you.

He turns on the sink and you hear him brushing his teeth. He takes his time as he readies, entirely unfazed by the strange circumstance of it all. You shrivel under the downpour and wait him out. Or try to.

“Oh shit,” you utter as the shower swirls and your head swims. It must be the sudden shift from hot to cold but you��re entirely off-balance.

You reach and grab the towel bar as you tilt to the side. You lean into the curtain and your legs hit the raised lip. The plastic wraps around you as you topple and hit the floor, the rings tearing through the curtain. You’re not out, just foggy.

“Huh?” Rogers grunts. “Hell. You okay?”

“I’m...” you fight the curtain, “I’m good. Just... stuck.”

He huffs again and bends to help unsheath you from the curtain. It isn’t until you’re free that you remember how exposed you are. Completely. He stares at you. Your skin is even hotter than before. His throat bobs and without looking, he reaches over you. He pulls the towel off the bar and drapes it over you.

“Get up,” he stands straight and turns his back on you.

The tension is as unbearable as the still heat. You cover yourself and stand. You sidle around him and out of the room. You’re mortified. Stressed. And still dizzy.

This job is going to be even harder than you thought. Why couldn’t he just let you be? You should be headed off to a new life, instead, he’s dragging you into this one.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #au #mob au #drabble #sum of all #marvel #mcu #captain america #avengers

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mypoisonedvine · 6 months ago

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𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 (part I) | frater imperator x reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 | when the newly-appointed head of the clergy decides (or, has it decided for him) that it is time to marry, he neither has time for nor has to worry about the stress of dating... he can just take his pick.

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 | 5.2k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 | for the series overall: smut (18+ only!!), arranged marriage, extreme religious themes, shy!reader, and lots of pining/slow-ish burn. for this chapter: mention of death and mostly just reader having anxiety... and a hint of my glove kink coming through but that's neither here nor there

this is probably not worth saying when it's already in the title but uh, rite here rite now spoilers. so sorry but it's literally what the fic is based on so I couldn't help it.

Frater Imperator… Frater Imperator…

He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the title, still. It was a shock already when he first read the letter from his mother— on top of the shock of losing her, which was more than enough— but it still hadn’t quite sunk in.

He was so shocked by the promotion, in fact, that he’d been entirely unable to process the paragraph afterwards:

And please, do as I’ve been asking for quite some time and finally take a wife. Or husband! I’m not picky. But you need someone beside you to keep things in order and keep you in line.

Yes, Copia’s mother had been encouraging him towards marriage for quite some time, even before he knew she was his mother; in some ways, it made more sense once that element came to light, though it did change the tone of her request quite a lot. It also made him take it much more seriously.

And now, it could be argued that this was basically her dying wish. He really had no other choice: he couldn’t put off a marriage any longer.

See, he’d never had a problem with the idea of it— he’d always imagined getting married some day, like most people seem to— but he wasn’t the luckiest in love. A broken heart or two (or five) had convinced him to focus more on his work with the church, and to be fair, no one could deny that the work had paid off. But, as they say, it gets lonely at the top: and now, he was the leader of the whole church, and he had no prospects or even romantic interests to speak of.

Fortunately, he had realized that because he was the leader, he didn’t need all that: all he had to do was say the word.

The announcement spread through the congregation like wildfire: the newly-minted Frater Imperator was going to get married. The part they neglected to mention— and the part everyone wanted to know the most— was to whom.

There were already plenty of rumors, which you avoided because you felt they were all baseless. Even within one day you’d heard three different stories about this mysterious future spouse, each more preposterous than the last: that he had a secret lover in the ministry he would wed, that he met a fan at a ritual and swept her off her feet, and that he had some previously unmentioned long-term girlfriend who wasn’t even in the church.

The wedding was less than a week away and all anyone knew was that everyone would be there.

Unfortunately, it was hard to ignore the gossip, even if you weren’t participating in it. The night when it all began, you were trying to read while several of the other Sisters were giggling amongst themselves over their various theories. “I wasn’t sure he’d ever marry,” someone admitted, “even though he could probably have anyone he wanted.”

“Not me,” one Sister announced smugly, “I never thought he was all that good-looking.”

“Oh please,” another scoffed incredulously, “you’d be on your knees in a second if you saw him at a ritual.”

“Besides, his looks aren’t the most important thing: this is the head of the clergy. Whoever he marries is probably going to be spoiled rotten!”

They laughed excitedly, and though you’d been trying to tune it out, you couldn’t help but wonder about it as well. The announcement had left so much unanswered, but the timing of it seemed too important to ignore. Perhaps the clergy had forbidden the Papa to marry— you weren’t aware of any rule against it, since to your knowledge none of them had ever tried— and so he’d had to wait until his time was complete to be with the person he loved. Perhaps it was the death of his mother that triggered it: at best, a renewed desire to find happiness and family when faced with a reminder of mortality; at worst, his mother hadn’t approved of his lover and only now was his final obstacle removed.

Ironically, after all those times you failed to ignore them before, it took the other Sisters several attempts to tear you out of your train of thought now: you blinked quickly and looked up from your book as you realized they were saying your name to get your attention.

“Hm?” you mumbled hazily when you looked at them.

“A message for you,” Sister Agnes informed you, leaning over to hand you a rolled parchment. You weren’t sure if it was private or not, but everyone was staring at you in anticipation— in fact, you noticed then that their entire conversation had died down to silence— and so you awkwardly unrolled it and read the writing inside.

MESSAGE FROM THE CLERGY:

Frater Imperator and the clergy request your presence in the upper sanctum imminently.

As soon as you descended the stairway back to the mail halls of the abbey, a gaggle of Sisters descended on you, wide-eyed and desperate for gossip. “So?!” Sister Lilith asked expectantly, like the rest of her question should be obvious. “What was it about?”

“Was the whole clergy there?”

“U-uhm, all but Frater,” you replied shyly.

“What did they say?”

“Don’t be silly, ladies,” Sister Agnes scoffed, “it was obviously about the wedding. What else would there be meetings about today? They must want her to help in some way: communion, maybe?”

“Ooh! A bridesmaid!” another in the group suggested excitedly. “Do you know who he’s marrying?”

“Of course she knows!” someone answered for you. “Who is it? I was right, wasn’t I— it’s someone in the church!”

“Well… yes, I know who it is,” you mumbled, “but I… I’m not sure I’m permitted to speak on it.”

That was a lie, but you were too busy trying to process it all yourself to share it with anyone.

“Just tell us,” they begged. “You won’t get in trouble!”

“The wedding’s only a few days away,” Sister Lilith pointed out, “so there’s no point in it being a secret now— and if I’m right about who it is, Sister Magdalena owes me a fifty.”

“I’m sure you didn’t guess it,” you promised her.

But the questions just kept coming: “It is a woman, though, right?” “Is it someone you know? Wait, is it someone we know?” “

You realized that if you didn’t tell them now, they would either figure it out soon or be entirely blindsided at the ceremony. Not to mention that if you refused to answer their questions, they’d just keep grilling you until they got something. Your voice was actually quite feeble in that moment, not loud or strong enough to cut through all that chatter— but your words were enough to stop every question being thrown at you in its tracks.

“It’s me.”

You waited for them to react, but for a moment, they didn’t.

“I was asked to— to take the position,” you specified, putting it as vaguely as possible. I’m going to marry Frater Imperator was just as true but was just as hard to say as it was to wrap your head around.

They erupted into a variety of reactions, all of which at least had some element of shock involved. “I had no idea you were so close!” Sister Agnes exclaimed.

“We’ve… never even spoken…” you shyly replied, and the excitement quickly died down. You weren't offended by their quizzical stares; if anything, it was a relief to see some of them looking as confused as you felt.

Why did he choose her? you caught a few whispers in the back of the group. They're strangers? What makes her so special, then?

You wish you knew the answers to those questions.

That night as you laid in bed, you couldn’t do anything but replay the clergy meeting in your mind. You’d felt so small across the table from all of them; you had no idea air could feel so heavy and stiff, matching the tense energy as you waited for them to explain why you’d been summoned. As it all happened, you thought you would never forget every detail— but already you were losing your memory of what was said in what order, when exactly you realized you weren’t in trouble, how long it took you to believe what you were hearing.

Should we not court first? Or have a meeting, maybe? You had suggested. Frater does not feel it is necessary, a clergyman firmly replied.

And he’s not here now, because… you trailed off.

We all feel you should make this decision privately— in case his presence would sway you one way or another, a high Sister answered.

You could see the logic in that, and appreciated the concern for your uncoerced consent… except, of course, that this was an offer already impossible to say no to. They’d successfully convinced you that you wouldn't be punished for turning down the proposal, but the marriage itself had already been announced: if you rejected the offer, someone else would surely take your place. And for some reason, though the idea of going through with this terrified you, passing it up sounded even worse. Even just imagining another woman taking her place at his side… why did it bother you so much?

Because you will take your husband's title, but will not have decision-making power over the clergy, your title from henceforth shall be Sister Imperator Consortia.

It had a ring to it, but it didn’t feel like you— at least not yet. It felt too… formal, too important. Generally, people don’t join a convent and put on a habit because they’re intent on standing out, Satanic or not.

You told yourself that you needed to rest while you could, you had a busy week ahead starting with a dress fitting first thing tomorrow. But still, you hardly got a moment of sleep that first night; part of you thought if you shut your eyes long enough, you would wake up to learn this had all been some bizarre dream.

You couldn’t decide, though, if you’d be relieved or heartbroken if you awoke.

In some ways, the wedding mass was quite similar to how you’d always pictured yours would be… except for the attendance. You were sure you’d never met this many people in your life! Even tonight, you wouldn’t be able to meet them all!

But, of course, this was the social event of the year, if not decade, for any church member or Satanist: it only made sense that there were throngs of people not only in the church but outside, waiting to see the new couple.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, face obscured by the black veil, your eyes widened with the thought that you might be basically the Kate Middleton of Satanism in this moment…

Trading your opaque veil for one of lace, your loose and simple dress for a form-fitting and extravagant one made of dark red silk and sporting an over-the-top train, you wondered if you were going to be swallowed up by all this overwhelming intricacy, all this… pomp.

Taking a shaky breath, you tried not to imagine that everyone else watching you walk down the aisle would agree with you that you were horribly out of place. You wished you’d had a chance to understand why you were chosen— to even just meet the high Frater, but the clergy had insisted several times that he was too busy with his new duties and planning the wedding. Yes, your fiance was too busy planning your wedding to speak to you. It was all horrifically ironic, and irritating. So, as you turned and stepped out of the bridal suite, taking your bouquet of Dahlias from one of the Sisters assisting you, you thought to yourself if nothing else, at least I’ll get to finally try to understand all this by the end of the night.

The doors to the main hall opened for you, and there was no turning back.

It was a massive room, with easily a thousand people between you and the altar, but the very first thing your eyes fell on was Copia all the way at the other end of the aisle: the all black suit was no surprise, yet even from so far his white eye stood out prominently, and it was fixed on you.

Walking down the aisle took quite some time— you’d been reminded to take slow steps, as if you were just going to break into a sprint or something. You tried to keep your eyes ahead, and ignore all the eyes on you: people seated on the furthest ends of the pews leaned and stood on their tiptoes to try to get a glimpse, but between all the encouraging smiles you caught an occasional glare of disapproval… it seemed plenty of your siblings were jealous of or disappointed by you one way or another.

Adjusting your clammy hands slightly, you realized you were unintentionally holding a concerningly tight grip on the Dahlia stems and the ribbon they were wrapped with; that said, you were very thankful for something you do with your hands.

Your heart was pounding by the time you reached the front of the hall, where the priest, the clergy, and your betrothed waited for you at the altar. A Sister took your bouquet away to free your hands just as you passed the front row, and when you looked forward again there were only a few carpeted steps between you and… everything.

Copia surprised you by reaching forward— at first you weren’t sure what he meant by it, until you realized and quickly took his hand, letting him guide you up the stairs. He was wearing those leather gloves you hardly ever saw him without, but even still, it was the first time you’d ever touched him; was his hand shaking? You couldn’t tell, yet it almost felt like it. Not to say that his grip wasn’t a strange sort of comfort in that moment; as he helped you up the stairs, you felt yourself relaxing slightly, despite being far from over with the hardest parts of this.

The first few minutes were just a matter of standing and waiting while the priest spoke: you wish you could say you remembered a damn word of it, he must’ve said something about love or marriages or… you know, all that. Whatever it was, you were relieved when it was over and you could move on to the communion and prayer— the more familiar parts, and the parts where you got to kneel. You were actually amazed that your legs hadn’t been noticeably wobbly so far, but they definitely could use a break.

In the time that your head was meant to be bowed in your prayer, you carefully opened your eyes and turned your head— just enough to take a peek at him quickly. Well, your intention was to be quick about it, but once you started looking, you became distracted rather easily. It was just that you'd never seen him so up close, you were sure: you'd never noticed the slope of his nose before, or how long his eyelashes were, or the shape of his lips in this profile—

Suddenly, as if he sensed your stare somehow, his eyes popped open and glanced over to return it. He gave you a half smirk as your eyes widened and you snapped your gaze back down to your clasped hands.

“...and may they be joined in unholy matrimony for all eternity,” the priest ended his prayer: “Nema.”

“Nema,” you and Copia and the rest of the congregation replied.

The penultimate step of the ceremony was the exchanging of the rings, which were extended towards you both on a little velvet pillow— it was actually kind of adorable, you thought.

You figured he might take his gloves off for you to put the ring on, but it was apparently designed to fit around them; alternately, you had to suppress a startled reaction to your own ring as he gently placed it on your finger. It was a massive ruby surrounded with onyx and black diamonds, intricate and completely unsubtle. You knew Copia had expensive taste, and it was certainly in keeping with such a lavish wedding, but you wondered if it would look entirely out of place on you for daily wear.

I’ll wear this ring every day, forever, you reminded yourself; you breathed out shakily as his hands held yours so tenderly for one more moment after your ring was in place.

And then there was only one thing left. The thing you’d been preparing yourself for since this morning— or perhaps since that fateful meeting with the clergy: the kiss.

It felt pretty melodramatic with him lifting your veil over your head, and it felt surreal to be in the part of this that you’d been imagining in hopes of preparing yourself. Of course, it was a little different than how you’d pictured it, most of all the look on his face: it was subtle, but he didn’t seem as serious or muted as you were used to. It wasn’t like he was grinning or anything— that would’ve actually been sort of creepy— but there was a small smile on his face.

You heard the priest say something about husband and wife but you weren’t paying attention, it all sounded distant somehow. And maybe you sort of psyched yourself up for this moment too much— maybe you wanted to get the wedding over with, maybe you were afraid if you didn’t commit fully that you’d end up instinctively backing away when he came closer and you’d both be humiliated in front of all these people.

There were other possible explanations for what you did, but for whatever reason, you all but threw yourself onto him and kissed him.

It only lasted for a few seconds, but that moment may as well have been frozen in time; it took him a second to react, his hands settling near your waist— and it took the crowd a moment too, but they began to clap and cheer for you both at some point.

Truthfully, you weren’t thinking much about how it felt to kiss him… you couldn’t, really, without losing focus on the point of all this. You weren’t here to have a nice kiss or meet someone you might like— you were here to serve a purpose, to fill a role. And that’s not to say you weren’t grateful, but you weren’t going to let yourself be distracted from your duty to the church.

You backed away as suddenly as you’d latched onto him, and when you opened your eyes after scrunching them shut during the kiss, you saw him looking at you with a bit of shock in his expression. Only then did you wince to yourself and wonder, was that too much?

He took your hand and turned to face the congregation, so you followed suit of course, and as he smiled and waved at them politely you were a little surprised to see them all standing and applauding. It definitely felt like a bigger crowd from this side of the cathedral…

You were almost frozen for a second, until you felt his hand guiding you down— he was already on the first step down, so you quickly picked up your skirt and followed him. You had wondered before if you would feel different walking back down the aisle with him, compared to when you processed on it alone. You weren’t sure if you really felt married or something— what would that even feel like?— but you did feel different.

You felt better, actually— relieved, happier, you even caught yourself smiling at the crowd, but it was hard not to with how… energetic they were. Despite not really knowing what to do with all that attention, you at least appreciated it, though it surely had little to do with you. They were cheering for him because he’s Copia— Frater, the former Papa, heir of the Emeritus bloodline— and they were only cheering for you because you’re his wife.

And no, just because you understood that logically didn’t mean it felt at all real yet.

Frater Imperator and Sister Imperator Consortia! you could hear the announcement echoing through the hall, though it was distant compared to the claps and hollers. You dared one glance at him by your side, thinking it might be easier than looking at this massive crowd around you, and found him already smiling at you; and with a warmth beginning to spread on your face, you let him guide you out of the doors, into the rest of the church submerged in nightfall.

After a crowded spectacle like that, the quiet of his chambers was quite a relief. So much so, actually, that it dampened some of that eerie, anxious feeling of being alone with Copia in his bedroom; it wasn’t quite as spacious as you would’ve assumed someone with his level of importance would have, but the ornate and luxurious furniture made perfect sense.

You were so caught up in taking it all in, almost entranced by the beauty all around you, that when he spoke it slightly startled you.

“That kiss,” he said suddenly. “Wow.”

It was just that his voice sounded so different like this: no microphone, no massive chapel, just one small room with stone walls. There was a brief pause as he ran his gloved hand over his hair, blowing air quickly out of his mouth, and you realized you should probably respond somehow: for some reason, your mind struggled to accept that he was speaking to you directly. “I’m sorry if I was too forward, I just—”

“No! No, not at all,” he laughed thinly, “no, you did very well. I’m sure today was… overwhelming for you.”

It felt good to just hear him confirm that: up until now, everyone in the clergy had been sort of acting like this was normal, never really acknowledging (let alone validating) your stress.

“If it’s any comfort, it was for me, too. And I’ve had a lot more experience with large crowds than you,” he added.

You smiled a little; “Yes, that’s true— but it must be different here, at home.”

“Mm,” he nodded, pondering that for a second. “It is. But it’s preferable in some ways, too— like now, being able to come back to my own space.”

You envied that a bit; you were likely never to return to your chambers across the building, and while you didn’t necessarily enjoy sharing that space with a dozen other Sisters, it was probably easier than sharing a bed with just one man.

Before you could get a little too caught up in that train of thought, he spoke again. “I can’t believe I haven’t already told you how exquisite you look in your dress,” he offered.

“O-oh, thank you,” you hummed, “I’m very fortunate, it’s a beautiful gown.”

“Of course it is, I picked it out,” he informed you proudly. “I have excellent taste, no?”

“You do,” you agreed with a small laugh.

“And you liked the ceremony, I hope?”

“Yes, Papa,” you answered dutifully. “I-I mean, Frater.”

“Force of habit,” he noticed, “literally. But, I'm not Frater to you anymore, I'm your husband.”

That certainly made your heart skip a beat, even though you couldn’t imagine you had forgotten it in the last ten minutes. “So what should I call you, then?”

“Well, just my name should do,” he laughed slightly, seeming a bit surprised by the question. “Spouses call each other pet names from time to time, would you like that?”

You might have been able to think about that idea more clearly if his hand wasn't on your waist, petting along the curve of it absent-mindedly. “I… don't know,” you admitted, “I’ve never really tried it.”

“It will come naturally, I suppose,” he shrugged.

“So, it is a proper marriage then,” you realized.

“Hm?”

You wondered if you shouldn’t have said it aloud. “I-I just mean, I wasn’t sure at first… if maybe it was all political, you know,” you admitted. “A marriage for show, not necessarily of a personal nature, I guess.”

“If it were political, I would have been paired up with someone from another church, I imagine,” he explained, one of his eyebrows raising. “Did you think I chose you randomly?”

It felt pretty fucking random, you wanted to say, but that would have been a little bit harsh. Instead, you sat down on the edge of the bed (which was only a little cumbersome with your dress) and he copied you, sitting just a few feet away. “I’m so honored you chose me, Copia,” you began, feeling a little odd about using his name so casually, “but I just… I can’t imagine why.”

“The clergy asked me the same thing,” he recalled, “but they weren’t satisfied with my answer— I’m sure you won’t be, either.”

“Try me,” you encouraged.

“Well… I saw you once,” he explained slowly, “in a Mass— I gave you communion, do you remember that?”

“O-oh, yes, I think you’ve served me the elements a few times.”

“This was the first time,” he assured, “I know, because I thought to myself she must be new, if I’d seen her before I would’ve remembered it.”

You tried not to smile too wide, but you couldn't help some reaction. You never imagined you'd left such an impression on him.

“You looked up at me, and you just looked so sweet… I couldn’t get the image out of my mind, you on your knees before me…”

You crossed your legs tightly. “I mean, I remember that too, of course. But it’s because it was the first time I saw you in your papal robes— I was just one of hundreds, I didn’t even know you could tell us apart.”

“Well, you stood out to me— maybe it was fate, eh?” he smirked. But he was the head of the clergy, the most important man in the church: he made his own fate.

“And that’s it?” you realized sheepishly. “You thought I was pretty, or something, a few years ago and so you married me?”

“Not pretty, no— pretty is cheap, cara mia. You were enchanting.”

Was this flattery? It seemed too perfect to be totally genuine, but hell, he was smooth.

“I thought of you often,” he admitted, moving closer to you, “I imagined if I might have you to myself someday… and now I do.”

His gloved hand rested on your shoulder before carefully moving up to the back of your neck; he guided you towards him, slowly and patiently, looking into your eyes for a moment but taking longer to look at your lips.

You swallowed nervously once before letting your eyes fall shut.

The kiss was soft at first, but grew more intense with every moment; he breathed a little heavier through his nose and you could feel it against your face.

His arms wrapped around you, and it should've felt nice, like a loving embrace; it sort of did, it just also started to make you feel claustrophobic, forcing you to fight the urge to squirm out of his grasp.

You wanted to give into it, you wanted to let yourself melt into his arms… but as he held you tighter and kissed you harder, your heart started to race in a way that wasn’t pleasant anymore.

Pulling back and pushing against him, you broke away and hoped he wouldn’t be angry with you or hurt by your rejection. Fortunately, he let you move back as soon as you tried, and looked at you with an expression more of surprise than frustration.

“W-wait, I—” you mumbled nervously, willing your hands not to shake with nervousness. “It’s not that I don’t— we’ve only just— I do find you attractive, but—”

“We don’t know each other very well,” he finished for you. “It's alright, you seemed nervous already.”

“Yes,” you sighed, smiling with relief. “I just thought… maybe we could get to know each other better first, before we…”

“I didn't expect you to be so shy,” he noticed with a soft laugh. You were keeping close watch on his tone and, from what you could tell, he thankfully didn't sound too disappointed.

“I-I’m usually not,” you assured, “maybe compared to some other Sisters…”

“Well, that's a low bar,” he noted with a raised brow, “but anyhow, it doesn't bother me. I'm happy to wait until you're… more comfortable.”

You smiled a little, glancing away briefly. “Thank you,” you began, barely managing to stop yourself from calling him by a title again.

“I just hope you'll stay in my bed tonight— it's your bed, too, you know. Nothing else has to happen.”

“Of course,” you smiled, “I'd like that.”

He nodded shortly at you and moved as if he was going to get up, but you opened your mouth impulsively to speak— even if nothing came out right away— and he stopped.

“But, um— you could kiss me again,” you suggested quickly, before you lost the nerve. He smiled, with a certain sparkle in his eyes that made you squirm slightly against the bed.

His hand brushed under your chin gently, lifting your face until you were forced to look right up at him. “If it would please you,” he returned with a purr.

Swallowing thickly, you nodded; “Yes,” you insisted softly.

This kiss was slower, but no less intoxicating: he touched you like you were the most fragile thing, and the movements of his lips seemed to gently guide your own. You heard yourself sigh against him, and his thumb started to pet your jawline tenderly.

You remembered that moment clearer now, the one he described to you before. Taking communion from him, kneeling under him, waiting with an open mouth for him to deliver the mana to your tongue… the cool golden chalice against your lip and the bittersweet wine…

His other hand delicately landed on your lower back, and you opened your mouth wider, letting his tongue graze against yours.

When he pulled back, you found yourself leaning forward just for a second, chasing him for more. And he obviously noticed, it was clear from the way he smiled down at you. You wondered if he would indulge your desire for more— for a second, you imagined he might decide that you were more ready than you'd let on and take you right then and there. A little brutish, yes, but the idea tickled a certain corner of your brain.

But, no, he sat up straight and let out a short breath. “I'll get ready for bed,” he announced. “You should too— you've had a long day.”

You nodded back; “Yes, Papa,” you returned compulsively once again. “Damn it!”

“It seems you have a lot of new things to get used to,” he laughed.

More than you know, you thought to yourself as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

#rhrn spoilers #rite here rite now spoilers #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #frater imperator x reader #ghost bc fanfic

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kedsandtubesocks · 8 months ago

Text

your favorite kryptonite

Comic Bookstore Owner!Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

summary: you think it should be illegal for someone this hot to work at your favorite comics & fandom shop

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MDNI. non canon AU. Dieter as a big fandom nerd (affectionate), brief one sided annoyance to lovers, mentions and discussions of various medias including marvel, video games & anime/manga, light use of gendered language, moment of harassment from a creep, Dieter cosplaying surprise, spicy themes, reader wears Dieter’s robe but no physical description is mentioned, light drug use (marijuana), silly chaotic but sweet!Dieter

word count: 4.3k

a/n: So I’m back with another wacky AU LOL this is my love letter to all things wonderfully nerdy & to nerd Dieter who in my heart i believe is totally a Kakashi and Goku fanboy lol the biggest thanks go out to @perotovar & @burntheedges who helped championed this and gave me the power up strength to continue, so grateful for y’all babes! And to you reading this thank you so much ♡

The new mecha anime figurines immediately draw your attention. Their sharp beautiful sleek designs stand impressively and although you might not be a huge fan you admire the striking style.

You’ve been coming to Atomic Planet Shop since your best friend dragged you here in high school years ago. Containing a wide range of things like a whole area to flip through comics, to a wall of Japanese manga - it’s a nerd’s paradise.

Currently you search for a birthday gift to get your best friend and maybe snag a treat for yourself.

“Oh, a fan of Gundam I see.” An eager and new voice calls from behind.

Turning back you discover someone slinking out from behind the register. Normally Raymond, the sweet older man who runs the store, would be here. But now someone new stands in his place and you’re stunned.

The guy emerging from behind the counter is gorgeous.

Scruffy beard, fluffy hair, wearing earrings and rings on his hand, he’s hot. The shirt he wears says “Wolverine Call Me” in a heart shape. His deep chocolate even eyes seem to dance curiously.

“Uh, just looking.” You politely reply.

“Whatcha looking for?”

You explain how you’re here looking for a birthday gift for your friend.

“Oh nice.” He nods appreciatively.

While you’re turned, giving this new worker your attrition, you finally notice the glass shelf behind the register.

Your eyes go wide fast at what you spot.

“Is that a new Stardew Valley cookbook?” You can’t even process the words, you’re still in awe at the sight. Precious little drawings fill the space to show familiar dishes, like pink cake and lucky lunch, from the game. It’s gorgeous and so unique.

“Oh hell yeah, you a fan?” The mystery man exclaims. “You know we have a whole little-”

“Video game section off to the side. Yeah.” You warmly cut him off.

Originally the store had been very comics and graphic novel focused. However over the years it’s evolved to add more fandom-like elements and now there’s even a small but impressive video game focused area.

A sweetly surprised look falls over the guy’s face and it paints him utterly charming.

“So who’s your go-to spouse in SDV?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

You tell him and he nods sagely.

“I always go for Krobus. Gotta respect our cute sewer dweller.” He says.

While you laugh a flutter scurries across your heart.

A ring at the door chimes in breaking your sweet conversation and a cluster of guys walk into the store.

“Guess I’ll get back to birthday gift hunting.” You smile at the cute worker then return to the comic stacks.

Flipping through the different series and passing through many fun options, you catch the conversation off to the side.

The pack of young guys that walked in seem to know the cute worker and snicker with him about something.

“Oh yeah man, so I was rewatching Endgame the other day and the part where Scarlet Witch goes one on one with Thanos? Unrealistic!” One of them cackles and you pause.

Did they not even see or know about how powerful she’s confirmed to be in the other MCU projects? Even then, in the comics Scarlet Witch flat out changes the trajectory of reality. If anything Thanos is only strong because he got lucky.

But you hold your tongue and continue scanning through the comics.

These guys are probably just punk ass kids. You don’t want to waste your energy on these guys who probably also hate on other characters like Shuri and Carol Danvers.

Now the cute store worker scoffs amused but doesn’t correct them. Your face scrunches up.

You thought he was charming, maybe a bit eccentric, like a 90’s vibrant Lisa Frank vibe. Yet now your skin crawls just a little bit thinking he might be one of those unfortunately toxic gatekeeping jackass guys.

You decide to leave now. You still had time to look for a birthday gift for your best friend. So you’ll just come back later. Without a second glance to the cute worker, you slip out and wonder about maybe checking out another store.

Of course, you’re too tired to actively look for another store. The next time you return to Atomic Planet, you pray Raymond is there.

You’re excited and almost relieved to see the familiar eccentric older man smiling toothy at you from behind the counter.

“Well, you’re a wonderful sight for sore eyes!” He greets you and happily you catch up and chat with him.

Suddenly a chaotic bang clamors in. The handsome worker from last time tumbles out from the back room into the front as if he tried to rush over.

“Dieter man, what’s the rush?” Raymond laughs.

Dieter. So that’s his name.

The guy, Dieter, this time wears a Naruto shirt under a sleepy and cozy green robe. His hair is still fluffy and you don’t miss how wide eyes stare at you.

“Hey.” You politely but curtly reply.

“Hi.” Dieter waves and you hate how cute he looks.

“By the annoyed look on your face, I take it you’ve met this new headache.” Raymond chuckles and embarrassment rams into you knowing your annoyance is that obvious.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless.” Raymond waves. “He cries when he watches My Neighbor Totoro.”

“Hey what the fuck!” Dieter cries and you press your lips together trying not to laugh.

“Just ignore him, honey.” Raymond winks and you grin wide.

After thanking him, you head back to the birthday gift search. Searching now through the manga selection you notice something moves by the corner of your eye.

Turning to the side, a large Totoro plushie floats beside you obviously being held up.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” A high pitch tone acting as the adorable creature's voice speaks out and your lips twitch.

From the side Dieter pops his head out.

His hair, rivaling a bird's nest, creates a cloud around him and his wide doe-like eyes peeking out are so hard to be fully annoyed at.

“You know,” he now fully speaks in his voice, moving to hold the large adorable plushie in his arms. “Never got your name.”

“You have my full permission to beat his ass if you need to, dear.” Raymond yells dully from the cash register and Dieter squawks horrified.

You laugh bright. Turning to the side you see Dieter already holds his hand out. The half crooked grin on his face paints him so boyish.

“Name’s Dieter.”

You shake his hand, finally giving him your name.

“So, do you really think Scarlet Witch can’t take on Thanos?” You offer light.

Dieter sighs loud. “I knew those guys and what we were talking about might’ve pissed you off.”

So he was watching you. That brings in a curious warmth that courses through you.

“Well I do apologize.” He bows his head a bit. You at least appreciate that.

“I bet those guys are the same ones that don’t like Carol Danvers either or even know that Squirrel Girl defeated Thanos.” You add a bit snippy.

“You know your shit, I like that.” Dieter replies proud and the way his voice drips out smooth does something dangerous to your heart.

You shrug but fight off the smug grin threatening to mirror his.

“Maybe you need to go Gandalf on my ass and teach me a thing or two, like maybe over coffee?” Dieter offers and you’re knocked out.

So he feels this spark, chemistry or whatever it is, between you too.

“Maybe,” you reply back with a grin. “For now I gotta get back to gift shopping.”

“You still haven’t found your friend a gift?! Geeze, what kind of bestie are you?!” He cries out teasing and you roll your eyes.

It’s getting harder staying annoyed with him and not taking up his offer to get coffee.

You eventually decide on a comic art book for your friend and then spot the assorted mystery box trinkets to maybe snag a few for her and even for yourself.

“I know everyone says Goku would beat the fuck out of Thanos, but you know who else would too without breaking a sweat?” Dieter’s voice again arrives at your side. He’s rather persistent, your cute, slightly not so annoying gnat.

“Sailor Moon.” He answers himself sagely.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You snicker amused.

He practically beams besides you when you agree.

You ask if he’s a fan.

“Oh hell yeah! Sailor Venus is my fav.” Dieter cries. “I can sing the entire song theme opening for you if you’d like. Not to brag, but that and the second Naruto theme opening are my go to karaoke songs.”

You laugh, feeling it deep into your bones. He’s chaotic, but unbearably endearing.

In a blink, a rush comes in all at once. The fun sweet bubble you had been cultivating deflates and you hate how disappointed you get seeing Dieter scramble to try and work.

When you go check out, you’re surprised he’s the one at your register.

Even though he’s focused on working you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker up to you shyly but with a confident smirk. He turns to fully gift wrap the items knowing they’re going to be a present and you thank him for that.

When you grab your bag he gives you a smooth wink and you playfully glare at him.

Later at home, when you unpack everything, you find an extra surprise in the bag.

It’s a small box of strawberry pocky snacks you know you didn’t buy.

There’s a sticky note attached to it.

A sweet treat for a sweet customer! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ ♡)

Call me if you ever wanna get coffee or just talk nerd shit and make me absolutely fall even harder for you

Underneath the message, he left you his number and you can’t believe it. After squealing about it with a few of your friends, you text him.

Dieter replies back quick with the funniest excited cat reaction meme and you realize you might be in the best kind of trouble with this guy.

— . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.—

You didn’t expect the convention to be this crowded. Chatter fills the air as cosplayers move all around.

The booths stretch endless with countless tempting merch.

Your best friend tried to get you to plan a fun cosplay with her. However neither you or her could decide on what to pick in time. Now you're gladly comfortable in an everyday outfit and simply allow yourself to be in awe at the intricate lovely costumes.

While scanning the convention and taking in the beautifully controlled chaos in, you also hope to catch sight of someone in particular.

“Dude, stop trying to look for your hot nerd boyfriend.” Your best friend snorts and your heart trips over itself.

Embarrassed, you chide her and remind her that Dieter isn’t your boyfriend.

“Oh yeah because texting a guy everyday for the past month and going to cute cat cafes with him isn't dating.” She deadpans with a smirk.

You playfully glare at her.

It’s not official and you don’t want to rush whatever this is with Dieter. You haven’t even been to his place yet. You don’t mind though. You’ve just been enjoying getting to know him more.

You learn Dieter’s favorite video game is Hollow Knight and his favorite anime is Neon Genesis Evangelion.

His favorite comic book villain of all time is the Condiment King.

Matcha flavored Kit Kats have become his newest obsession session.

He saw all the Lord of the Rings movies in theater and can practically quote The Two Towers. Still has the comic book his best friend in middle school gave to him. Also refuses to let any of his Animal Crossing villagers leave because he’s so attached to them.

Dieter had made you laugh more than you can count, but he can be a bit ridiculous.

Like when he called you after he got off a late closing night shift to ask if Pacific Rim was real did you think the Kaiju monsters would maybe stop attacking if they found out how much he loves them.

Dieter does have his headache moments, but he’s an endearing kaleidoscope of a soul.

Earlier this week when you visited him at the shop, he said he was going to be here at the conversation. But with how bad the convention center’s wifi is, you haven’t been able to contact him.

“He even said he was coming in cosplay just for today right? Any ideas what he’s showing up as?” Your best friend wiggles her eyes while you and her stroll down an artist alley.

“No!” You huff still upset. “He said he wanted it to be a surprise.”

While you appreciate him wanting to wait for a dramatic reveal, you wanted to know what his outfit was from the minute he told you.

You wanted to maybe try dedicatedly searching for him, but you get completely enthralled by the mass amounts of merchandise delightfully distracting you.

You spot incredible fan art pieces, adorable handmade keychains, and very expensive but beautiful figurines.

It’s like a mini wonderland.

Checking out the cute earrings at the stall you’re at, you lose sight of your best friend. When you turn to excitedly talk with her, that’s when you spot it.

She’s a few steps away, very politely trying to inch away from a guy, dressed in a Deadpool suit without the mask on. He’s talking way too aggressively and getting way too close to your friend.

Immediately you rush over and happily jump in.

“I gotta show you this!” You thankfully have the best excuse to pull her away.

But the guy only takes it as an opening to instead follow you both now.

“Just ignore him.” Your best friend whispers to you.

You and her continue to stare at the jewelry. Yet the guy remains. He continues his discussion and seems to get upset that you or your friend aren’t replying. It’s creepy and persistent especially with how he refuses to budge or take the hint.

You try lightly deflating the situation by apologizing and saying you and your friend just want to enjoy shopping.

“Oh, is shopping all you two came here for? You know, you fucking losers aren’t even in cosplay. Fake ass fans.”

Now he gets really aggressive.

The air and tension shift. The poor cute shop owner in her adorable R2D2 dress even reacts getting upset.

“Look, we just wanna enjoy the con.” Your best friend replies sharp with a hard scowl.

“What in the fantastic fuck do we have here?”

Suddenly Dieter’s voice rings out excited and bright and you almost sob.

You whip your face around to spot him.

Except it is and isn’t him.

His hair is slicked back, gelled and curled. Thick gray colored hairs line his temples. It even looks like he shaved a bit.

He’s dressed as Reed Richards, Mr. Fantastic himself.

The outfit looks based on the classic 1960’s first comic book released aesthetic and it compliments Dieter’s frame gorgeously. His shoulders look unbelievably broad and his even arms seemed bigger in the tight soft baby blue material. You’ve never seen him in something so form fitting and it has your throat drying up.

You’ve even momentarily forgotten about the guy bothering you and your best friend.

“You bothering these two, ya fucking creep?” Dieter says with a nudge of his chin.

It’s hot as fuck.

The guy stunned gapes like a fish and stammers, but no words come out.

“Beat it before I shove a lightsaber up your ass.” Dieter replies bored, but it adds a sense of deadliness to his words.

The Deadpool cosplayer turns on his heels and immediately scrambles away. Your knees almost buckle overwhelmed.

Your best friend and even the stall owner cry out wildly excited in a bright neon awe of Dieter. You swallow back a sob as you turn to embrace him. His warm large hands pat you comfortingly.

“You saved us.” You teasingly sob, but truthfully you know he did.

“I’d been looking for you for a hot minute and was about to make some sort of raptor call noise to get your attention until I saw that shit going down.” Dieter explains.

“What a hero.” Your friend jokingly adds, but you hear it in her voice how grateful she is.

Dieter snickers.

“Guess you could almost say I was fantastic… mister fantast-”

You cut Dieter off with a quick kiss to his cheek before he can make the pun and your friend along with the stall owner laugh.

Gingerly, almost tentatively you move to intertwine your hand with his. He reacts immediately pulling you to his side.

For the rest of the convention Dieter stays besides you, walking hand in hand with you.

Even when you arrive at the booth for Atomic Planet, the real reason why Dieter was here to help work, Raymond waves him away saying to enjoy the convention with you.

Your heart flutters and Dieter squeezes your hand excitedly.

The rest of the time is a blissful geeked out dream. Dieter buys you a few keychains, even treats you and your best friend to a bite to eat.

You came to the convention with your best friend…

But you leave with Dieter.

Especially when your best friend urges you to go home with him and enjoy his hot cosplay.

You give her a look when she cheekily tells you that, but she isn’t wrong. Even when you grabbed the quick bite before the night ended, it was hard trying to ignore the amount of people turning to stare at Dieter with wide curious eyes.

And a little twinge of something faintly possessive bubbles in you.

That’s why when you slide into the passenger seat of his car, your heart drums loudly in your ears trying to fight against the urge to just suck his cock right here in the car.

“So uh…” Dieter begins cautiously and even a bit bashfully. “I don’t wanna sound too aggressive and you can tell me no, but can I kiss you-”

You don’t even let him finish before you’re sliding over the seat to him.

He scrambles and immediately pulls you close as his lips become a magnet to yours.

This is the first time you’re really truly kissing Dieter. You’ve kissed him gently good night before. He’s been cute with leaving kisses to your cheek or even against the back of your head like a Victorian gentleman. But now it’s a raw unraveling getting to tasting him from the source so greedy.

You won’t dare admit it outloud, but the soft feel of his lips, the scrape of his jaw, the smell of his delicious cologne, and how warm he consumes you -

It’s pretty fantastic.

— . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.—

Dieter’s room is a treasure trove.

Framed posters of Pacific Rim, AKIRA, The Iron Giant, and the original Pokemon Kanto generation line the walls. His bookshelf is filled not just with comic books and manga, but various impressive graphic novels.

A mock infinity gauntlet sits beside his television. So many anime figurines, including a really nice Goku one, stand protecting his reading collection.

What surprises you is his expansive and sleek gaming corner which includes a striking computer set up.

“You look hot as fuck standing in my robe and knowing I just came in you a few hours ago is even hotter.” Dieter says from his bed in the most sinful but half groggily asleep voice.

You smirk and continue to soak in his room.

“So do you get good discounts from the store?” You ask.

“Yeah, but it also helps that I co-own it.” Dieter casually tells you. You hear him shifting among the seats then catch the flicker of the lighter igniting.

However your eyes go wide realizing what he said and you whip back around to him.

“Wait?! You co-own the shop?”

“Well yeah, Raymond, that old fuck, is my uncle.” Dieter coughs out as he exhales from the hit he took off his weed pipe.

Dieter even explains how, because his uncle is starting to get a bit older, he decided to step in to help run the place.

“Besides, how else could I show off my extensive knowledge of elvish language other than at the shop?” He says proudly.

How did you just now learn this?

Dieter reminds you of a rubik cube you think you’ve finally figured out, think you found a groove for - until one out of the corners a jack in the box pops out.

Before you can even ask him about the shop or about his uncle, Dieter’s phone goes off.

The loud ringtone sings into the room and your eyes go wide hearing it. Dieter checks who’s calling then denies the call muttering out about how spam scam callers need to be fed to a sarlacc pit.

“Wait…is Cascada’s ‘Everytime We Touch’ actually your ringtone?” You ask, still not believing it.

“Fuck yeah it is, baby! That song is untouchable!” He cries and you can’t help but laugh.

Dieter smirks then pats the open spot on the bed where you had been resting before. Sliding back into the warmth with him, he gently pulls your face to him and kisses you softly.

The taste of the smoke lingers on his lips, but it’s still him beneath it all. You eventually wind up in his arms, cozy and warm in his embrace.

“I noticed the nice audio and mic setup.” You comment while his fingers draw aimlessly against your skin. “You trying to maybe go the YouTuber route?”

“Nah. Maybe. Who knows.” He shrugs. “It’s mainly for something else.”

Now his voice grows a bit distant.

You gently ask him what that something else is and Dieter fidgets

“Don’t… don’t laugh okay.” He mumbles adorably.

You reassure him earnestly you won’t.

He sighs.

“So I’ve been wanting to get into voice acting work.” Dieter reveals with a mutter, even sounding a bit embarrassed

However, you perk up so bright. Turning in his arms you eagerly smile at him.

“Di, that sounds amazing!” You mean those words.

You can’t help but ramble about how great he would be for that. He has the personality for it and he’s told you how he’s done some stage acting work. Plus, it just fits him. You think of all the silly voices he does and you hope now he can make this path a reality.

Dieter’s handsome face falls a bit and you stop. You wonder if you’ve scared him off, or maybe he thinks you’re possibly making fun of him.

You’re about to apologize when Dieter swiftly moves to kiss you feral and fierce. His tongue slides into your mouth with a moan you greedily swallow.

The conversation is put on pause when his hands slide up your thighs, straight to your core, and you fall apart with him once again.

Basking in the afterglow you rest against his chest now feeling sleepy, not even knowing what time it is. You realize being with Dieter is like existing in a realm a bit separated from reality sometimes and it’s beautiful.

“I don’t wanna be that lame guy,” Dieter begins. “But shit, I already really really kind of like you a fucking lot.”

Your lips fight back a smile you can’t beat. You turn to bury your face against his warm bared chest.

“I really kinda like you a lot too.” You admit.

“That’s unfortunate.” He replies and you snort.

“It’s okay. I only want the good discount on merch at the shop.” You reply cheekily.

“Aw! You don’t even want me for my body? Just my discount?!” He cries hurt and even jokingly moves to shove you off.

“Well.” Then he pauses. “Guess I could call my dick a discount, but then again… there isn’t anything short about that-”

You cut him off with an eye roll and he snickers wildly amused.

His fingers move to tickle you, to corrupt you into his same fit of giggles and you wheezing trying to squirm away from him.

Dieter’s hands eventually snake around you and draw you back into his chest. You melt against him willingly and even sigh comforted.

“Next time if we go to a convention, if you feel comfortable with it, you should cosplay.” He comments.

You admit that you’ve thought about it and list a few ideas you’ve had. But mainly, your mind thinks about the different outfits Dieter could go as.

The thought of him now as Doctor Doom instead of the heroic Reed Richards is a glorious thought.

But of course there’s so many other incredible options.

Dieter as Harvey or even Marlon from Stardew Valley.

Even a few anime characters that would fit him so well come to mind.

Specifically Kishibe from the series Chainsaw Man, with his striking cut across his mouth and incredibly lazy hot older demeanor, just fits Dieter so well it stirs something in you again.

“Maybe next con,” Dieter offers and pulls you from your thoughts. “I’m thinking about going as Tuxedo Mask. Do you wanna be my Sailor Moon?”

A couples matching outfit.

You didn’t even think of that. That’s what he was nudging towards.

You didn’t even think of that. But just getting to be beside him is something sweetly moving.

Then thinking about him in the sleek tuxedo outfit, in the white mask, is a dangerous thought you already ache to maybe see come true.

“We’ll see.” You hum with a smile, but when you go to kiss him it feels like a gilded warm promise.

“Never mind. I want us to go as Undertale characters and I wanna be Sans.” Dieter says suddenly and you snort against his shoulder.

This time spent with him, and the promise of maybe something more, is sweet starlit bliss.

#I blame this on wanting another anime tattoo so I’m sorry I’m here to spread the nerd Dieter agenda lol #comic bookstore owner!Dieter #nerd!Dieter #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #pedrostories

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toapohatu67 · 6 months ago

Text

I love how Bionicle plotlines for every year basically go like

2001: mysterious robot guys wash up on tribal island and fight local wildlife because evil has taken over

2002: scary balls

2003: little man gets cool golden mask and grows up and defeats evil

2004: remember those old guys? yeah they were heroes too

2005: old heroes get turned into furries

2006: back to the present, six small guys go to mysterious island and fight a gang

2007: god is dying. But don't worry the ice one saved him

2008: uh oh evil man took over big robot that also is god (plot twist x2 combo)

2009: new planet, there's tribal guys that are elemental but not really, also god is now a tiny guy on this planet

2010: ah damn it Bionicle is not selling well anymore might as well have big evil robot fight big good robot in a cool battle for the end

#bionicle #plot summary

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vaguesxrrow · 6 months ago

Note

Platonic monty x witch reader where the reader would frequently visit esther with witchy duties and would always bring crow monty trinkets so when human monty came around he just starts fanboying seeing reader but they're confused about it so he just tries to act cool talking ab hearing good things about them from his "ghost friend" thank u <3

(p.s this was actually a dream I had and I think it's cute😭😭😭)

I AM SOOO SORRY THIS TOOK OVER A MONTH LIKE ACTUALLY 😭😭😭🙏

monty & witch!reader

a/n: yayy cheers for my first monty fic

wc: 1408

tags: gender neutral reader, witch reader, platonic monty & reader

"hi, esther!" you called as you opened the door to her house, lugging behind you a rucksack filled with... well, the contents of your bag were probably best left unsaid. "hi, monty!" you said as you caught sight of the crow in his cage. "oh, it's been so long. missed you, buddy."

you usually came around to esther's twice a month for your witchy duties. 'duties' meaning exchanging ingredients, and the occasional (frequent) gossip of other witches in the magic community. really, though, your favourite part of your visits were visiting monty.

the crow chirped at you in greeting. you grinned, retrieving from your pocket two trinkets. first, you handed him the necklace, which you had found when you were doing some spring cleaning. the gem on it was almost black, but blue enough that you thought it would pop against monty's feathers. and you were right - as you handed it to him, he deftly swung it up as if to put it on, but wasn't quite successful and instead it landed on his head. you laughed, unlocking the door of the cage to adjust it for him. he cawed and puffed up his chest, clearly pleased with the new gift.

next, you handed him a shiny pebble. this, you only just found on your journey here. you had parked at the beach, intending to collect some green seaglass for a spell, when you found a rock gleaming so brightly it could have been a crystal. it held no magical properties as far as you were concerned, but you knew monty had to have it.

monty took that, too, setting it down on a cushion in the corner of his enclosure. then, he flew out the open door to perch on your shoulder, nipping your hair affectionately.

"are you planning on stealing my monty, [name]?" esther teased, appearing from the kitchen.

"you know what? maybe i will," you mused as you stroked monty's feathers.

esther barked out a laugh that was equal parts disbelieving and threatening. "sure, honey. now let's talk business."

you left the place two elemental teeth and three vials of blood richer, and with a promise to visit again soon.

⌦ --

'soon' ended up being a whole month and a half later, having missed your second visit last month. you had an extra bounce in your step as you strolled up to esther's front porch, yet still taking care not to jostle your bag full of potions in glass jars.

before you could open the door, it swung open, revealing a boy who seemed to be about your age.

your first thought was, did esther have children?

after ruling out the first question with a no way in hell, your second thought was, did esther kidnap a teenager?

"uh.. hi," you said awkwardly. "is esther home?"

"not at the moment! she went to the store, but we were expecting you, so she shouldn't be much longer," he told you. "but, uh, come in, please!"

he held the door open for you as you walked inside. you set your bag down on the table. "how'd you end up living with esther?" you questioned. you weren't judging (mostly), just surprised that esther would ever live with another human, especially a teenager. she seemed to barely tolerate you. "and what's your name?"

"well, esther calls me 'handsome' most of the time." he rolled his eyes. "really annoying habit, but i let her do it, cause you know her!"

nice evasion, you thought to yourself, noting that mystery boy had deigned to actually answer any of your questions. he was getting more interesting by the second.

you sat down on a stool at the kitchen table. "well, nice to meet you. i'm-"

"[name]!" he blurted. "i know."

you paused in surprise. "and how do you know that, exactly?"

he froze for a millisecond, before launching into another long-winded explanation. "well, you're actually pretty famous, in case you didn't know! i heard about you from this, uh, cool ghost friend of mine. yeah, they're like, super cool, and if they think you're cool then you must be, like, even cooler."

you gave him a once-over, still confused. he noticed you staring and self-consciously tugged at a chain around his neck, tucking the necklace into his shirt. weird.

before you could interrogate him more, the front door audibly swung open, creaking on its hinges. esther's voice sing-songed from the entrance as she complained about the cashier at the supermarket, vaguely plottint his demise.

"where are you, m- oh!" she paused as she caught sight of you. "[name]!" her tone was cheerful, but you weren't sure if she was exactly happy to see you. then again, you never were.

"hi, esther," you greeted back. "just came to drop off the potions." you gave your bag a jostle, and the glass jars inside clinked against each other noisily.

she half-grinned, half-grimaced at you. "thank you, dear. you can be on your way now." she waved you away, undoubtedly using her magic, as you felt an invisible force tug you towards the front door.

"uh, my bag-" you began.

"i'll return it!" mystery boy piped up. "um, meet me at the park tomorrow at noon? we can be friends!"

"sure!" you called, having to raise your voice as your body moves further and further away. "um, see you then!"

it wasn't until you arrived at the sole motel in port townsend that you realised you'd never gotten the name of your to-be friend.

⌦ --

you met mystery boy on the bench at the park, as you had arranged yesterday. you were determined to get his name this time; if you were going to be friends, then you couldn't call him mystery boy forever. he already knew your name after all.

"[name]!"

you turned around to find him approaching, two paper coffee cups in his hands, along with your bag, as promised. smiling, you waved at him.

"hi. wow," he said. he handed you back your bag, and one of the cups. "this is for you. i wasn't sure what kind of coffee you like, so i just chose the special, cause y'know, from what i heard from my ghost friend, you seem like the kind of laid back person who can just do whatever, which i admire."

amused, and slightly puzzled, you chuckled. "thank you?" you took a sip of the drink he offered, nodding in approval to let him know it was good. "i didn't think i had that high of a reputation. i mean, you seem to know a lot about me, but i don't even know your name."

he fiddled with the chain around his neck again, drawing your attention to the piece of jewelry. today, it wasn't concealed under his shirt. you squinted. it was a metal chain, with a gem that was a dark sapphire blue. you could recognise it anywhere.

"is that... the necklace i gave esther's crow?" you blurted.

he froze.

your eyes widened. "wait..." you scanned him, and the more you scrutinised his features the more oddly familiar they looked. "monty?"

"uhh, about that..."

"oh my god." you stood up in shock. "did esther turn you into a crow? i didn't think she'd do something like that, transforming humans.. if she's been keeping you with her all this time-"

"what? no!" he shook his head. "she recently turned me human."

your rant ended abruptly. "oh."

you were a bit confused about that, too. how? when? why? but you supposed you might as well enjoy it for what it was: finally being able to talk to your favourite crow-boy.

"but thanks for looking out for me." he - monty (monty!) smiled.

"it's no problem," you responded, slightly embarrassed at your outburst. "i mean, you're my friend. so like, any time." you really were touched. being a witch didn't give much time for socialising, and even within the magic community, relationships were often kept professional. talking to monty, even when he couldn't respond, was nice for you.

"we're friends?" he asked, eyes sparkling hopefully.

"yeah, duh," you said. "i didn't give you all those trinkets for nothing. i'm glad to see you kept some of them, though." you motioned to the necklace.

"of course i did. guess i'm kind of wired to like shiny things. ex-crow and all."

"makes sense." you shrugged. "how'd you end up becoming human, anyway?"

he huffed, grinning. "oh, boy, it's a long story…”

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives x reader #dead boy detectives fic #monty the crow #monty dead boy detectives #monty the crow/reader #monty/reader #monty x reader

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year ago

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Malleus x Reader Drabble

I write Reader as female

Masterlist

You really should be paying attention to what Malleus was saying, considering how considerate and enthusiastic he was. It was sweet of him, really, to offer you the seat next to him during break time when you offhandedly mentioned eating lunch alone in the library instead of at your usual table at the cafeteria because of Ace and Deuce’s shared detention - in fact, he even offered to help you with your Defense Magic essay. And what were you doing as a response to his kindness? Letting his words fade away as you observed how the sunlight did an exquisite job at highlighting his orphic beauty.

Despite being a creature of the night, a puissant being who can play with and control the nocturnal elements of his as easily and elegantly as he does his beloved violin, he looked just as ethereal under celestial rays as he does bathed in the colours of his domain.

You never really understood his cloak-and-dagger reputation, considering the fact that the same fairy whose name never failed to drain the blood from your schoolmates’ faces was also the one who’d pout childishly when Lilia would deny him his second box of ice cream or light up giddily whenever his Gao-Gao Dragon-kun would so much as move a pixel. Of course, you yourself felt the chill of intimidation slither up your spine when you saw the way he presented himself in public, from the way authority and might would adhere his form in every step he took, to the way resolution was laced in every word he spoke, to how he could rebuild an entire demolished building from crushed rubble to brand new in a blink of an eye. You were more than aware that the companion to your nighttime rendezvous was someone who should be respected and feared.

But the strangest thing was - you never felt scared. Sure you had your moments of awe and outright reverence whenever his pure, unadulterated power was displayed, but you could never really feel anything other than that tempting allure that would tug you towards him, the tendrils of curiosity that made you want to know more about him. When you first met, you felt a kinship, a fondness to another lonely soul who felt out of place amongst their peers.

“Are you feeling well, child of man?” a deep velvety voice pulled you out of your reverie and you sheepishly noted how the page of your notebook was still mainly blank, your traitorous fingers having chosen to absentmindedly swirl your pen between them instead of jotting down what he was saying.

“Oh well I-,” you felt your face heat up at your obvious distracted mind, “I’m really sorry Tsunotarou, truly I - I guess I was just uh-”

“‘Away with the fairies’ is the correct term, I believe,” he gave you a fond smile.

“Well, yeah, I suppose,” you agree shamefully, completely embarrassed at how technically true his statement was and wishing that the ground would swallow you whole, “I am really sorry. You’re here doing me a huge favour and I’m not even paying attention. I guess - oh.”

Your still fiddling fingers had lost grip of your pen, letting it clatter against the marble floor and roll under the table.

“Sorry,” you were really getting more and more frazzled as the seconds went by, “let me just- ”

“Please, child of man, allow me,” and before you could even comprehend what was happening, the sixth foot supernatural dorm leader of Diasomnia had abandoned his seat and knelt down to retrieve your pen before holding it in front of you, a coy smile on his face, not making a single move to get up.

This nyctophilic fairy prince, whose entire existence is shrouded in fear and mystery, was kneeling before you in broad daylight, handing you your pen as if it was worth more than quadruple its weight in gold. Underneath the static in your head, you could hear the shocked exclamations of Grim and Sebek and Lilia’s ever suspicious snickering and you could feel the burning gazes of the entire cafeteria scalding against your frame. Dumbly, you simply took your pen back, all cerebral functions doing absolutely nothing - you couldn’t even remember how to breathe.

Unaware, or unbothered, of the looks being thrown your way, Malleus sat back in his chair, just as regal and refined as he does everything else before turning to you with a secretive smile, “as we were, my dear. However, this time let’s try to keep your thoughts on me alone.”

#malleus draconia x reader #fem reader

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kira-broflovski · 2 years ago

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Secret || Kyle Broflovski x Reader

note: characters are aged up to high school!! decided to add an element of social media into this one 🫣

It was an evening just like any other in the Marsh residence. However, in a moment of impulse, Randy decided to treat Sharon for a night out.

Shelly was now in charge of her younger brother and sister, Stan and Y/N. Not that either of you needed supervision considering you were in your senior year of high school. Your older sister was fully aware of this, so she just kept to herself in the living room.

She decided to reside downstairs, also knowing that you and Stan would stay in your respective rooms.

Playing all the video games he wanted with nobody to tell him to keep it down, Stan lazed about in his room and mumbled along to his gaming playlist that was blasting from his speaker. He sat back without a care in the world. Although, he was starting to get a little hungry.

Then, there was you. Cool wind was blowing in from your wide-open window, your 'love' playlist contrasting the music coming from your brother's room, as you laid on your bed and texted your boyfriend.

The boyfriend that nobody else knew about, none other than Kyle Broflovski, of course.

You had been dating Kyle for a few months now, and how you haven't been caught is a mystery to both of you.

Most of your conversations did happen over the phone for the sake of not blowing your cover, just like the conversation you were having with him right now. God forbid Stan found out about his own best friend dating his twin sister!

You mentioned your parents were out, so Kyle decided to play a risky game.

Curious, you slowly turned your head to look at the window like your boyfriend had said to do. You jumped out of surprise, not exactly expecting said boyfriend to be leaning into the window.

"Kyle?" You whisper-shouted.

"Help me in." He laughed.

You scrambled out of bed to help, not wanting him to get hurt.

Your room was at the side of the house where the garage was underneath the window, so Kyle had somehow got onto the roof and waited for you to notice him standing in your open window.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, sitting back down on your bed.

"Uh, I didn't want to wait to see you again." He shot you a sheepish smile that you couldn't stay mad at.

Shaking your head and laughing quietly, you patted the bed next to you and he immediately sat down beside you. He threw his arms around you, unable to contain his affection. You laid back, still holding Kyle in your arms, and he gladly leaned back with you, getting as close as physically possible.

Thankfully, the music playing from both your room and Stan's room was loud enough that your brother next door couldn't hear anything, nor could Shelly downstairs.

After taking a deep breath, Kyle mumbled into your neck, "this is nice."

"Yeah, it is."

Due to your relationship being a secret, moments like these were rare. But that made you both appreciate them much more.

The last time Kyle was able to sneak in was a month ago. He told his parents he would be at Stan's, which wasn't a total lie, but they didn't know Stan was out on a camping trip with his scouts group.

Everything was going well. You and Kyle just laying in each other's arms, listening to music and talking about whatever came to mind.

It seems, however, the music was a little too loud as you didn't hear Stan walking downstairs, back up, and down the hall.

"Hey, Y/N, Shelly's ordering food so— what the fuck!?" He interrupted himself when he saw a random person laying with you.

"Oh shit!" You yelped.

"Who the fuck is that?" He couldn't see who it was as Kyle's hood was up and he was facing away from the door, where Stan was stood with his arms crossed.

"Uh..." You had no idea what to say. What could you say?

Kyle slowly got off of you, still refusing to turn around and face his best friend. This was not how either of you were expecting your relationship to be found out.

"Well?" Stan stepped closer.

Knowing there was no getting out of it, Kyle slowly turned around and looked at him.

"Kyle!?"

"Now, Stan, listen—" you started.

"Listen? What the fuck is going on here?" Your brother exploded. "Guys, I'm not fucking stupid, so don't treat me like I am."

"We never said you were," Kyle mumbled.

If looks could kill, Kyle would be dead where he sat.

"Of all people, you decided to date my best friend?"

"Stan."

"How long have the both of you been doing all this behind my back?"

"Stan!"

"Answer my question, Y/N."

"A few months." You mumbled.

"Months!?" He yelled out of disbelief, feeling like he had been betrayed by two of the closest people in his life. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Listen! For once, just fucking listen." You got up and stood in front of him, getting fed up of his shouting.

Kyle stared at the floor and played with his hands nervously.

"Neither of us can control who we like, alright? And we just so happen to like each other. We knew you'd try to stop us, so we kept it from you and have been dating in secret." You stated calmly. "He treats me so fucking well and makes me feel like nobody ever has in my life, so excuse me for wanting what's best for me, Stan."

"But my best friend? Really?"

In reality, he had no idea what else to say. He knew you were right as he knows you've been happier the past few months.

"Hey, I didn't say shit when you started dating Wendy!" Now it was your turn to get mad.

Your brother stared back and forth at the two of you in disbelief, trying to find something to say. "Just wait until mom and dad find out about this."

You simply rolled your eyes in response, and Stan turned to Kyle.

"I'll tell your fucking parents as well, about how you've secretly been dating my sister. I'm sure they'll love that!" He pointed a finger deep into Kyle's chest, before turning around and storming out, slamming the door on his way out.

A couple minutes of uncomfortable silence passed before Kyle peeped up. "That could've gone a lot better..."

"Tell me about it." You sat back down and grabbed your phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Texting Shelly what we want to eat."

#kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park boys #stan marsh #shelly marsh #randy marsh #sharon marsh

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hockeyandhrsepwr · 1 year ago

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Yeehaw baby! 🤠

Mat Barzal x reader insta edit

Note: I’m not a Barzal gal but I am a ho for a man in a cowboy hat which I blame on my proximity to Alberta. Someone has probably done something similar to this so I just want to be clear that I’m not copying anyone

Summary: Barzy takes on Stampede

Yourusername

Yourusername it’s July now, y’all know what that means 🤠

Yourbro it’s Canada Day?

Yourusername bruh

Yourbff yeehaw?

Yourusername haw-yee baby🤪

User2 oh slay, time for the yearly content

User4 can’t wait for your outfits!!

User457 this is my met gala lol

Yourfriend Pede?

Yourusername Pede

Yourfriend well hurry up bitch!! We’re waiting

Yourusername hope you’re ready

Lenasianed can’t wait to see you!

Yourusername it’s time to celebrate you my sweet girl!! Please tell me I can have baby snuggles?

Lenasianed she’s with the grandparents this weekend

Yourusername ☹️

Barzal97

Barzal97 a rootin tootin good time celebrating EBear

Titobeauvi oh dear god

Bboeser buddy you’re from Vancouver

Barzal97 I’m a cowboy at heart

MamaBarzal oh really?

User78 oh fuck Cowboy Barzy

User67 HELLO?!

Yourusername The Longest Ride (TM)

User33 um, something you wanna tell us?

Yourusername he’s giving Scott Eastwood in the classic film The Longest Ride. Obviously

User25 not where I thought that was going tbh

Barzal97 thanks I think?

EBear thanks for coming out man!!

Barzal97 anytime man!

Friend78 YYC > YVR

Barzal97 I will not accept Van slander. Calgs only better when it comes to this

HockeyGoss

Hockeygoss howdy y’all, look what we have here. Mat Barzal spotted getting close to a mysterious woman during Stampede

User4 girlies living the dream

User90 god the hat

User69 random but anyone else think that could be yourusername?

User2 girl what?

User69 idk, something about the jewelry we can see

User268 girl you tripping

Yourusername

Yourusername Wear the hat, something something 🤔

Yourbff pretty sure you know how it goes

Yourusername ummm nope

Yourbff well maybe B can refresh your memory

Yourusername oh he’s working on that 😘

Barzal97 context please?

Yourusername cowboy hat rule hockey boy. Google it

User56 Queen!

Friend56 ride him baby!

Yourusername 🫶yeehaw

Yourusername

Yourusername don’t take but two to have a little soirée (me & Sam if that wasn’t clear)

Highlight of the month CowboysMusicFestival SamHunt

Yourbff truly iconic performance

Yourusername I don’t think I’ll ever recover

Barzal97 okay I get the hype now

Yourusername was a crime that you weren’t a fan tbh

Yourotherbff can’t believe you didn’t before now given how often she plays him

Barzal97 I just to see her in her element to get it. She really sold it

Yourbff stop sucking up

Yourusername no please, continue

User89 did everyone just skip over her friends comment!!

Lenasianed it was a party all right

Barzal97

Barzal97 I met a girl with crazy shoes and baby blues. The way she moves is changing my whole world.

Yourusername crazy shoes are my specialty 😘

User7 OH?!

User25 my two worlds colliding

Yourbff if you don’t take care of her, I’ll kill you with your own skates

Barzal97 uh

Yourusername babe, we talked about threatening people on the internet

Yourotherbff but mom!

Yourusername no!

Titobeavi she’s so out of your league

Yourusername thank you Tito. See you next week?

User85 she’s already met his bf?

Barzal97 I should hope so, she lived in NY all last year

User64 💀 he didn’t deny the bf allegations but omg they’ve been dating a year?!

Yourusername

Yourusername save a horse, Vancouver Edition

Yourbff what?

Yourusername save a Zamboni, ride a hockey player 😏

Yourbro 🤮

Barzal97 🤦‍♂️ (I love you crazy woman)

#mat barzal x reader #yeehaw motherfuckers!!#mat barzal #nhl insta edit #new york islanders #jjs insta edits #hockey instagram au #nhl fic #mat Barzal insta au #barzy #ny isles #nhl Instagram au

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yeolsaintlaurent · 11 months ago

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Crimson Veins, Midnight Flames ch.1 [BBH]

pairing - baekhyun x fem reader

genre - mature, smut, thriller

themes - Social Divide, Ambition and Privilege, Dark Desires, Identity and Self-Discovery, Love triangle, Sex, Mystery and Gothic Elements

Synopsis - Explore the intricate world of Oxford University, where Baekhyun, a scholarship student, intertwines with the wealthy elite led by Sehun Oh and Y/N Van der Bilt. Against the backdrop of seductive parties and concealed love, the tale unfolds at the grand Ivy Crest Estate in the picturesque town of Willowbrook. Here, secrets and power plays unravel, revealing a collision between societal expectations and personal truths, with gothic nuances weaving through the rich tapestry of privilege and deceit. This is where the heart of the story beats, echoing with the footsteps of characters entwined in a dance of love, betrayal, and hidden mysteries.

A/N - Hi my lovelies~ I am so so so excited to be sharing this new series with you guys. Ever since I watched Saltburn at the cinema, I had wanted to write a fic inspired by it. As always, let me know what you guys think about my new series. <3

Chapter 1: Freshman Impressions

The air at Oxford University was alive with anticipation as freshmen flooded the campus, eager faces filled with excitement and trepidation. Banners fluttered in the crisp autumn breeze, welcoming the newcomers to a journey of knowledge and self-discovery. The courtyards were abuzz with freshmen finding their way, guided by the hopeful energy that marked the beginning of their academic adventure.

Baekhyun, clad in his drab attire, navigated through the sea of unfamiliar faces with wide-eyed wonder. His jet-black hair, styled in an old-fashioned way, hinted at his reserved personality. The banners overhead welcomed the freshmen, but Baekhyun felt like a stranger in a foreign land, an outcast amidst the throngs of students who seemed to effortlessly find their place.

As he lugged his bags, Baekhyun's gaze wandered, taking in the vibrant atmosphere. He saw students with smiles that mirrored the banners' enthusiasm, groups forming friendships that would last a lifetime, and laughter that echoed through the courtyards. His introverted nature left him feeling like an observer on the fringe of a world that he yearned to belong to.

The first day unfolded like a whirlwind, a cascade of introductions, campus tours, and the overwhelming realization that the journey ahead was as daunting as it was promising. Baekhyun, however, found himself struggling to connect with anyone. Ignored and brushed off when seeking directions to his dormitory, he felt the weight of his scholarship status more acutely than ever.

Upon reaching his dorm room, Baekhyun peered out of the window overlooking the courtyard, a view that would become a daily spectacle. It was there, amidst the crowd, that he saw Y/N for the first time. Her uber fashionable outfit, designer bag and shoes, and captivating beauty drew his attention like a moth to a flame. She stood with her friends chatting away, a cigarette in hand, an embodiment of the privilege that seemed so distant from his own reality.

Despite the magnetic pull he felt toward Y/N, Baekhyun remained introverted and nervous. He watched her from a distance, his silent admiration painting a picture of unspoken desire. The window-sill overlooking the courtyard became his silent refuge, and Y/N's presence, a beacon of aspiration in his mundane world.

The University's welcome reception dinner, a grand affair filled with chatter and clinking cutlery, brought Baekhyun face-to-face with the stark realities of his social standing. Most seats were occupied, and the few attempts to find a place were met with dismissive glances. Eventually settling into a solitary spot, Baekhyun's solitude was interrupted by Chanyeol.

"Hey mate, mind if I sit here?" Chanyeol asked, already pulling out a chair opposite to him.

Baekhyun, surprised by the friendly gesture, nodded. "Uh, sure. Go ahead."

Chanyeol flashed a friendly grin as he settled into the chair. "I'm Chanyeol, Chanyeol Park. What's your major?"

"Baekhyun Byun," he replied, still adjusting to the social interaction. "Psychology."

"Sound choice!" Chanyeol exclaimed. "I'm going for Business Administration. Got big shoes to fill as the family heir and all that."

The grand hall echoed with the chatter of students, and the vibrant atmosphere contrasted with Baekhyun's more reserved demeanor. As Chanyeol animatedly shared stories, the world around Baekhyun seemed to fade into the background, and his undecipherable expressions spoke volumes.

Chanyeol, with his outgoing personality, remained oblivious to the intricacies playing out in Baekhyun's mind. The topic veered towards Y/N as Baekhyun's gaze occasionally flickered toward her table, a subtle yet persistent attraction that Chanyeol noticed with a knowing smirk.

"I see where your interests lie," Chanyeol teased, nudging Baekhyun with a playful grin. Baekhyun responded with a nonchalant shrug, but his expressions betrayed a depth of emotion that went beyond mere acknowledgment.

Leaning in conspiratorially, Chanyeol continued his narrative. "That one there, whispering sweet nothings in her ear? That's Sehun Oh. Summered in Spain together after sixth form, so they're practically inseparable now."

Chanyeol, always eager to share insights, revealed another layer to the story. "Sehun and I are good mates. Our fathers are business partners, and I've been a frequent guest at the Van der Bilt family galas at their estate," he confided in Baekhyun, unaware of the internal turmoil brewing within the quieter companion.

With each word, Chanyeol's extroverted energy almost felt like an intrusion for Baekhyun, who continued to listen to the endless stream of information about Sehun and Y/N. The dynamics between the trio unfolded in the narratives Chanyeol wove, and Baekhyun's expressions served as a silent canvas for emotions that ran deeper than the surface suggested.

Two weeks later :

The day of the first assessments arrived, and Baekhyun, armed with a sharp mind and a focused determination, emerged from the exam hall. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the bustling courtyard. As the other students dispersed, Baekhyun, oblivious to the world around him, made his way to the nearest notice board. The anticipation of upcoming exams lingered, and he scrutinized the posted details for any schedule changes or possible rearrangements of exam halls.

Lost in the sea of information, Baekhyun suddenly became aware of a commotion nearby. A voice, soft but urgent, reached his ears, seeking a graphing calculator amidst the departing students. He hesitated, not wanting to be drawn into the social currents that flowed around him. The solitary pursuit of knowledge called to him, urging him to retreat to the quiet confines of his dorm room for a session of solitary reading.

A tap on his shoulder shattered his reverie, and Baekhyun turned, finding himself face-to-face with the very object of his admiration—Y/N. Time seemed to freeze, and he felt a strange mixture of elation and nervousness as she stood before him. Her flustered demeanor and earnest expression captivated him, momentarily blurring the lines between his introverted world and the vibrant social tapestry around him.

Y/N, with a hint of desperation in her voice, asked if he had a spare graphing calculator. She explained that she needed it for her upcoming exam and had forgotten her own. Baekhyun, still in the grip of surprise, felt his hands instinctively reaching into his corduroy messenger bag. Without uttering a word, he handed her the calculator, a simple yet profound act of kindness.

The transformation in Y/N's expression was instantaneous. Gratitude and happiness radiated from her as she clutched the calculator in her hands. In a burst of genuine emotion, she planted a quick but heartfelt kiss on Baekhyun's cheek, catching him completely off guard. Before he could fully comprehend the moment, she enveloped him in a warm hug, expressing her thanks.

"I'll get it back to you! Thank you so much!!" her voice echoed behind her as she sprinted towards her exam hall. Baekhyun stood there, frozen for a moment longer, the weight of the unexpected encounter lingering in the air. The courtyard resumed its rhythm, but for Baekhyun, a simple act of generosity had set in motion a chain of events of social dynamics and hidden desires.

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tumb1rprincess · 4 months ago

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lol whenever I’m about to start a new episode, I always have to take a deep breath and just think “Okay” before I click on it, like I’m bracing myself for whatever’s going to happen.

Uh oh, John’s pretty much asking if it’s okay to lie if it’s to help someone and he’s getting snappy when Arthur questions why he’s asking something like that, shit, shit, shit. How close are we to finding out what John’s been hiding? And how bad is the fallout going to be when Arthur knows?

Nothing like finding out the mattress you’ve been sleeping on has tons of blood on the underside, yay!

Ah, the infamous Oscar finally arrives. Been looking forward to seeing this guy, saw a lot of fanart of him when I was first checking this series out.

I feel like we’re kind of shifting away from a horror story and towards a detective mystery instead, it’s kind of interesting. Arthur’s way more in his element now, it’ll be interesting to see how he carries himself here compared to previous seasons.

#oscar malevolent #malevolent #john doe #arthur lester #malevolent part 32

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the-mountain-flower · 3 days ago

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Translation

Falst finds something in Erin's bag that just might help him solve a mystery from several years ago

Before leaving to charter a ship to Helm, Erin had opted to leave his bag with the members of their group that were, supposedly, resting back at the inn. The rules were the same as he’d told Kendal back in Zuurith: they were welcome to anything other than the notebooks.

Falst was admittedly tempted to peek into at least one of the aforementioned notebooks just for the sake of it. But that probably wouldn’t stave off his boredom enough and he wasn’t in the mood. After his slight familiarity with spellcarving had been useful a few days ago, he’d decided that further study would be a good idea.

To no one’s surprise, Erin’s bag had an extensive personal library to work with. The amount of comprehensive studies on every aspect of elemental magic was actually pretty absurd. Coming across something other than that was a bit of a surprise to Falst, though in hindsight it made sense for the Magus to have brought with him. His interest was piqued the second he read the title of the slim volume.

Zella’s Guide to Translating the Ancient Runic Language

Did Erin have this the entire time? And he never mentioned it?

Why would he? I haven’t mentioned any reason I'd be interested, and there’s no other reason to bring it up.

Clutching the tome in one hand, Falst closed the bag and left for the suite’s secondary room to read in private.

“Falst?”

“What?” Falst nearly snapped, turning around to see Dainix had drawn his attention away from whatever he was making in the pot above the fireplace and toward Falst.

“Where are you going? Alinua said we’re on bed rest, remember?”

“I know.” Falst held up the book, title cover facing away from the others. “Just doing some reading, nothing wild.”

“Oh,” Dainix gave Falst what was probably a look of concern, but didn’t press the subject. “Okay well, have fun.”

“Uh huh.” Falst retreated to the relative privacy of other room.

At the last second, he decided to not close the door all the way.

Falst opened the book before he even sat down. Despite the short length, it took him a few moments to find the section on names, that he wasn’t even sure it would have. He found it near the end, only two pages long.

The words just below the chapter title read: Luckily for our scholarly purposes, an almost-direct cypher can be applied to almost all proper nouns, making this part of our translation efforts relatively easy.

The rest of the section was dedicated to a simple chart, that showed Ancient runes next to those of the modern runic alphabet they correlated with.

He should’ve brought something to write with. There was a wooden desk next to him and one in front of him, he could just use one of those. Erin would get on his ass about damaging the hotel furniture, though. The book in his hands felt slightly heavier at that thought.

Whatever, it wouldn’t be that hard to just stick to mental notes on this one. After all, the version he knew was only five runes.

Five runes that he he knew so well he could draw them with his eyes closed. Five runes to make up a name carved onto his very heart, whose meaning was a mystery to him even after all these years.

And the answer was right in front of him.

The first rune he searched for was near the top of the cypher. Two horizontal lines connected by a diagonal stroke angled to the left, beneath a filled-in triangle shape. According to the book, the character it correlated with one of the most simple of the First Language alphabet: a dot beneath a small curve.

It had only taken Falst a moment to find. And the rest were found just as easily as the first.

The next was the simplest of the Ancient runes, a horizontal line directly above a longer one. It translated to two diagonal curves, next to a dot.

Two horizontal lines above an upside-down triangle, translating to a diagonal line above and beside two consecutive dots.

Two horizontal lines, the one on top accented with diagonal lines on the top side, translating to two concentric curves.

A diagonal line inside the angle of two connected ones and a sideways triangle, translating to a curved triangle with one of its sides open.

Falst’s throat tightened when he began to sound out the name, voice cracking as he said it aloud for the first time.

“Emira…”

A teardrop fell onto the page.

“Shit!” Falst quickly tried to wipe the moisture away. How had he not even noticed he was… He swore again when a small amount of ink smeared beneath his finger.

The next tense moments were devoted to getting rid of any sign of the moisture. If Erin ever found out about this, Falst just might die of embarrassment long before the scholar got his revenge.

Luckily, none of the actual runes had been ruined, just some of the line dividing the parts of the cypher. Once any trace of his mistake had been removed, it was nothing too out of the ordinary from the usual wear and tear over time. There was no reason to suspect anything.

It took even less time to make sure his face was dry, to keep that mistake from happening again.

A knock at the door, and the sound of it opening further, caused Falst to slam the book shut.

Kendal poked his head inside. “Is it okay if I use this room for a bit? Argist requested an audience, and Dainix is using the fireplace and I don’t want to upset Alinua by leaving, so this is the best option.”

“Go ahead.” Falst gave Kendal a serious look as he left the room. “But if they try anything,”

“Argist is much friendlier than Zuurith, so I’m sure it’ll be fine, but thank you.”

Kendal closed the door behind all the way; but it was, what, two inches thick? Yeah, Falst could listen in no problem.

Falst left his position for just a moment to put the book back into Erin’s bag without a second thought, no longer having use for it. He’d spent years wondering what the name on his mom’s gravestone was. He wasn’t going to forget it anytime soon.

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

I wanted to write this ever since writing "I wish I could remember every second we had". IDK why this one took so much longer but here it is :)

Remember to drink water, eat food, take your meds (if applicable), and get enough sleep. Love you all, and have a great [insert time here]! <3

#the mountain flower art #aurora #aurora comic #comic aurora #comicaurora #aurora webcomic #falst #falst aurora #aurora falst #writing #short story #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

Text

All In 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellllllooooo 😁

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You can’t help but admire the books balanced in your lap. You’re overly aware of another set of eyes on you as you once more trace the title with your fingertips, not wanting to touch too much but simply unable to resist. It can’t be real. All the books you ever had come from the Goodwill or your grandmother’s closet.

Bucky leans into you, his proximity still sweltering to you. You glance over at him sheepishly as you grip the edges of the top book to hold them steady.

“Thank you,” you babble again, probably for the ten dozenth time.

“You like them, doll?”

“Yes, very much,” you push your shoulders up bashfully.

“See, doll, all I wanna see is you happy,” he intones, “you’re happy, aren’t you?”

“Sure, yes,” you stammer, “thank you.”

He chuckles, amused by your incessant thanks yous. He rubs your shoulder and grips it tight, pulling you closer.

“So, I made you happy,” he shifts his body slightly against the seat belt, “how are you going to make me happy?”

You blink and gulp, clutching the books tighter. You bite down as you stare at him. Oh.

“Can I tell you how?” He brings his fingertips up to pet your chin, “promise, it’s not too much.”

“Mm, okay,” you utter.

He grins and presses his thumb against your chin, “a kiss? Just one.”

You let out a wispy noise and barely keep the books from slipping away. What? You can't be entirely surprised, you have no illusions, well as little as you can have, about what he wants and yet it’s like you’ve been slammed into by a sixteen-wheeler. Your clamp your lips tight as your bat your eyes.

He considers you and his lips straighten, his dimples pitting beneath his beard, “you don’t want to?”

“Uh, no, it isn’t...” your bottom lip quivers and your voice quakes. “I just...”

You shudder and look at his mouth then his neck. You can’t look him in the face. Your whole body is alight and your heart is throbbing. How do you tell him the one thing you’re terrified to ever admit to anyone, though you’re certain they can see it clear enough.

“You just what?” His voice is grittier, deeper. It adds an extra beat to your heart.

“I never...” your eyes wander away, “I never kissed anyone. I’m sorry. I’m just... nervous. So I... I don’t know if I would be good.”

He hums and rubs your chin, turning your head to him. He moves his hand to cradle your entire jaw and your throat bobs once more. You can’t help but reach to his wrist, clasping around his silver watch as your other hand strains to keep hold of the books in your lap.

“Why wouldn’t you be any good, doll? Those lips can’t be anything but delicious.”

You squeak and squirm in the seat. A tingle flows up your spine and strangles you. Your lips open and close like a fish out of water, a fluttering breath escaping you.

“Doll, close your eyes,” he says.

You can’t argue. You can’t move. You can barely think. So you obey.

You shut your eyes and feel the heat around you stir. You can sense him leaning in and you stiffen as his breath glosses over you. He tilts your head up as his lips brush yours, his beard tickling your skin, and he presses firmly against you. You squeeze your eyes tight as he hums again and you let out a surprised squeak as his tongue pokes against your mouth.

He pulls back as the books fall out of your lap onto the floor. Your eyes flick open and you try to look down. He holds you in place and pushes you back against the seat.

“Forget them,” he urges as his hand stretches across your neck, “and open your mouth, doll.”

He leans in once more and you’re plastered against the seat by his weight and the seatbelt. His mouth covers yours again and you let your lips go slack as his tongue delves within. You let out a murmur around him and slap your hand against the suede as his hand moves under your ear, a perfect vee beneath your lobe. He groans as he keeps his tending firm but soft, drawing back with a nibble as he leaves your lips wet.

You sit there, eyes closed, puffing and trembling. He caresses your chin and purrs, “how was it, doll? Everything you expected and more?”

You force your eyes open and look at him, shrinking down as you reach for his arm and try to dislodge his hand, “wow... I...”

He smirks, “been a while since I left a lady breathless.”

“I’m... sorry.”

“Sorry?” He drags his touch along your jawline, “for what?”

“I... was I bad?” You ask.

He once more looms over you and you brace yourself. He kisses your forehead and slowly retracts his arm, “you are too good, doll. If I don’t stop myself...”

You look around, fluttering lashes, shaky hands, and slowly bend forward. You gather up the books and slowly sit back. You stare forward, stunned stupid as the feel of his lips lingers. It wasn’t bad, just new, a little bit scary. Just like his words.

What would happen if he didn’t stop himself? Could you stop him?

🃏

The car rolls through a gate topped with golden points. You peer up at the urban mansion. You’ve never been to this part of town. The towering homes and curated lawns make you feel tiny. More so than usual.

You fumble to undo your seatbelt as Merv opens the door. You slide out ahead of Bucky and he trails after, his hand on your back as he guides you up the stone walk to the front door. He punches in a code into the keypad and lets you in ahead of him.

As you enter, you smell maple and bacon. He stays close to you, directing you with a point over your shoulder. You enter a dining room, the large table only set for two. He takes the books from you and sets them aside on the corner table. You swallow tightly.

“My personal chef should be about done,” he pulls out a chair and looks back at you expectantly.

You scurry up and sit with a thank you. He tucks the chair in under you and takes the chair on the other side of the corner, still close. Before you can settle in, a woman appears with two stemmed glasses. She sets one down before each of you as Bucky nods in fleeting acknowledgement, though his blue eyes only twinkle in your direction.

“Smells good,” you chew your lip nervously and his gaze follows the gesture.

“Nothing but the best, doll,” he winks and sips from his glass.

You do the same, surprised by the bubbliness. There’s a slight tang to the orange juice you don’t expect. He’s still watching you, seemingly amused by the play of emotions on your face.

“What?” You give a brittle giggle.

“You,” he says, “it’s a mimosa...” he leans forward, “still tryna figure out what you like.”

“It’s nice. Sweet,” you look at the glass and take another drink.

“Mm, maybe something strawberry next time,” he suggests.

“Ooo,” you smile but stop yourself as you feel goofy.

You blow out between your lips, trying to expel the tension as his eyes stay stuck to you. His attention is flattering but no less intimidating. You were never one to be in the spot light. You peer around the room, admiring the modern but elegant decor.

“Your house is so nice,” you rub your hands together nervously. “Must be nice living here...”

“Eh, bit empty but not bad,” he says, “lonely.”

“Oh,” you turn back to him.

“Doll,” he pinches the stem of the glass, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here. I know I got a reputation, you probably read all about it online. But I’m a changed man... or trying to change.”

You lower your brow in confusion. It’s strange to have anyone, let alone him, explain themselves to you.

“You know, I was with a certain type for a long time but... nothing serious. No one like you.”

Oh, you know. Why would he be with someone like you? You don’t dare to ask the question.

“It’s... okay,” you stammer.

“I don’t know any other way to do this,” he sits back and pushes his hair away from his face, “I’m taking it slow but...” his chest rises and he exhales heavily, “I hope you know how into you I am.”

Your cheeks sting hotly and you can’t help but touch them. You avert your eyes, looking down, then cross your arms across your chest. You look at him and shrug.

“Why?”

He narrows his eyes and brushes his fingers along the trim of his beard. He puckers his lips thoughtfully.

“I didn’t know until I saw you,” he drops his hand, resting it against the table. “I don’t know, you just looked... sweet. A bit lost. But I meant what I said, the skirt was cute. Kinda hoped you’d wear it today.”

“Oh?” You let out apologetically.

“That’s okay, doll, wishful thinking,” he says, “can’t have everything I want at once. I’m learning that.” He sits forward, “you’re teaching me how.”

“I am?”

“Sure you are,” he smirks, “waiting on you, aren’t I?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you twiddle your fingers nervously.

Before it can grow awkward, the same woman returns. She has a tray in her hands, large and spread with serving dishes. She leans it on the table and lays it all out; bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, french toast, waffles, pancakes. Everything you could dream of for a perfect breakfast buffet.

Your stomach grumbles loudly and Bucky tilts his head coyly. Did he hear that? You wait until the woman leaves to reach for your fork and knife, mirroring him as he does the same. He uses the tongs to put some bacon on his plate and offers you some. You take only one, it usually makes your stomach hurt.

“You’ll be waiting on me tomorrow,” he says, as he continues to serve himself. Each time, he adds some to your plate as well.

“I will?”

“Probably a long day for me. You’re gonna have to get into the night shift, doll,” he explains. “Business and all that tripe. I’d rather have you by my side later anyhow. I’m not much of a morning person. Besides, I’ll need something pretty on my arm at the casino.”

“Casino?” You echo.

“Sure thing, doll. I gotta keep a watch over what’s mine,” he insists.

“Right, er...” you look at your plate.

The idea of stepping back into the casino makes your insides jelly. It’s so crowded and bright and busy. And with him, the one person everyone will be watching. At least there are no cameras permitted on the floor.

“Just stick close,” he says, “shouldn’t be hard. I won’t let you get very far.”

He chuckles and you poke at the scrambled eggs. What do you wear? What do you do? Just follow him around like a duckling?

The woman returns, plaintive as she stands in the doorway. You glance over at her but Bucky keeps his attention on his food.

“Thea?” He calls to her.

“Sir, a package,” she declares.

“Ah, yes, bring it in,” he demands and bites into a sausage.

He chews and you opt to turn your focus to the growling in your stomach. You may as well enjoy what you can and you’ve never been shy of a good meal. You pour syrup onto the waffle and dust some icing sugar over it. He’s watching you, you peek up briefly to confirm it. You make your bites small and tidy. You wilt beneath his constant surveillance.

The woman, Thea, returns. Bucky waves her over as she carries a white box. He drops his fork and stands. You hover your cutlery over the plate and watch as he dismisses her with a curt nod.

“Please, enjoy,” he insists as he sets the box on the other side of the array of food.

You stick to your conservative progress, curiously watching him as he pops open the lid of the box. He looks inside and smiles. He goes back to his seat to retrieve his napkin and wipes his hands.

“How do you like them?” He pulls out a shirt, the edges scalloped around the bottom and neck, little purple hearts speckled all over.

“Pajamas?” You wonder aloud.

“Thought they’d be cute,” he smiles and drapes the shirt over the back of the chair in front of them, revealing the matching shorts. “You can take some pictures for me tonight.”

You nearly choke. You tried to forget that picture. Both of them. His and yours. Right then, you can only think of him in the towel.

“I’ll have it packed up with the books for you to take,” he puts the pajamas back in the box and closes the lid. “Let’s finish our food.”

“Uh, okay, thank you,” you stammer.

“Doll, it’s all just beginning,” he sits and reaches for his mimosa, holding it out. You take yours and he clinks your glass. “Here’s to us.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #casino au #mcu #marvel #all in #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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aricat7 · 5 months ago

Text

🔞DON'T FUCK WITH BUCKS 🔞 (Alastor X Reader X Vox)

Chapter One

Summary: An opportunity of a lifetime enters your taxidermy shop, adorned with a smile.

Warnings: Will contain smut and may contain eventual rape/non-con elements in future chapters.

“Imp heads….imp heads….I know I have one…” You say to yourself as you search through your back stock. Normally, you're a bit more organized and have all your ducks in a row so to speak, but business for you has been booming recently. So, less popular items - such as imp heads - are buried behind all the hot-selling items.

You're relieved when you spot a set of curved imp horns behind a majestic elephant head, but scowl as you pick it up and think back to how fucking disgusting this imp was to you. Most people from this side of hell knew not to ever fuck with you, the others either learn very quickly or end up with a price tag on their severed head like this imp.

You leave the stockroom with a kick of the door and return to your waiting customer at the register. You hear him utter sounds of approval as you package up the head for him. As he's excitedly retrieving his wallet, the front door chime dings and a face you've never seen before steps into the low, ambient lighting of the shop.

And, wow, is this a face you're not gonna forget anytime soon. Or more frankly, the smile.

Perhaps you weren't the only one who found this particular visitor unsettling, for other patrons within the shop frantically scurry out the door when they take notice of him. Striding with a smooth grace, holding a staff with hands placed behind his red-suited back, he halts in front of the buck mount on the wall nearest to you.

Switching your focus, you process the transaction for the customer in front of you and hand him his purchase. “Perfect!” He exclaims, hugging the box as if it's his last meal. “I've got a question though.”

“Yeah?” You say without looking up at him, doing a count of all the money in your register.

“You got any…phallic items, perchance?”

“No.”

“What if I uh… show you what I got on my display, huh?”

You slowly turn your head to him, eyes like daggers. “You need to leave.”

“Oh don't be like that, sugartits-”

Naturally, you grab the pistol in your desk compartment and point it at him.

The smiling man enthralled with the buck mount watches the situation intently out of the corner of his eye with his deer-like ear flicked in your direction.

Aggravated by the gun in his ugly face, the customer rolls his eyes and mutters, “Tch. Whore.” He turns on his heel and leaves with a huff, leaving you and this tall, mysterious man alone in the shop.

“What a charming fellow~”

His staticky voice throws you off completely, your body stiffening for a split second as you put your pistol back in your desk. You steal a quick glance at him, his mannerisms and appearance giving you an old-timey vibe.

“Yeah,” you continue counting your money. “Last time it was a cannibal who got all mad when I told them I don't sell fresh meat.”

“Well, I'm sure that also makes for some lofty entertainment now, does it not?”

“Sure,” you shut your register and look at the man again, the buck on the wall still absorbing all his attention, “until they threaten to gouge my eyeballs out and eat ‘em like olives.”

“Oh?” The man meets your gaze and it's as if that creepy smile of his is stuck permanently. “And what do you do next in such a situation, my dear?”

You nod your head at the display adjacent to him. “Add ‘em to my collection.”

He studies the cannibal section in what appears to be wonder, hard to tell with that damn smile. “My my, so slaying cannibals is your specialty?”

“Pfft, take a look around, dude. I own this place. All of what you see is my work.”

He cleans his monocle with a puff of air and scans the entirety of the shop - from the stoic wildlife to the variety of sinners who have crossed you. “You don't say? All by yourself?”

“Mhm.” You open up the display case of your entomological collection upon your desk and do a bit of fine-tuning, ensuring your array of roaches and moths are in orderly fashion.

“Very impressive. You've got quite the sickening talent, darling~ No doubt it's part of how you wound up being here in hell, I'm sure.”

You look up from your mindless task and catch him staring at the buck mount again, realizing the man has small antlers atop his red hair. “‘Guy you're looking at related to you or something?”

“Say he was, would you provide me with a discount?~”

“Nope.”

The man chuckles. His eyes wander your frame from head to toe, but that's unbeknownst to you, since you're already glued to your next task: making a spreadsheet on your computer of everything you've got in your inventory - that way you’re not ripping your hair out looking for an item like earlier. Just as you're about to head to the back to get a count of everything, the man walks over to you and outstretches his hand across your desk.

“The name’s Alastor, darling. Pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure.”

“Yeahhh, no. I don't do introductions.”

“What a shame.” Alastor retracts his hand and sets his staff out in front of him in a poised fashion. “Such a lovely establishment, from the authentic - and overly priced - craftsmanship, to its spik and span environment!” He sighs dramatically, “Oh, if only I could know the name of its owner, the brilliant mind behind it all~”

You roll your eyes. “You gonna buy one of these ‘overpriced’ craftsmanship or not?”

He tilts his head to the side. “How long have you been here in hell, sweetheart?”

Your hand hovers over where your pistol is kept. “Enough with the nicknames. And it’s…almost been a year now.”

“A year?! Why, it takes many moons here in hell for someone to be as reputable as you are right now. You're quite the little entrepreneur!”

You refrain from grabbing your pistol because something is tugging at your brain, telling you to tread lightly; to play whatever this game of his he’s playing and to play nice.

“‘Preciate that.” You cross your arms and nod to a poster that advertises the Vees on the storefront window. “‘Think I’ll be as big as them?”

“Ah, the notorious Vees. Well, my dear nameless business woman, with one simple deal I can make that happen.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Your ignorance is excused,” he retorts, sudden malice creeping in his tone and demeanor. He steps closer to you till he’s towering over you. “You really aren’t aware of who I am and what power I hold, are you?”

So much for playing nice.

You whip out your gun and point it at his chest. “How about you enlighten me before I decide on making a face mask for good ol’ buck up there?”

“Ooo, such a feisty one. I like that.” He puts his palm to the barrel and traps your weapon in his slender, pointed fingers. “I’m the radio demon, darling.”

Your eyes widen in fear, your hand loosening its grip on the gun. He gently, yet assertively, pulls your gun down to rest atop your desk - neither of you letting go of it. You've heard of the radio demon and the stupid amount of power he has - toppling over overlords at an unbelievable rate. A pure evil.

“I thought the radio demon had disappeared and has been gone for years.”

“And now I’ve returned~”

“Right…” You clear your throat and regain your composure, despite now knowing you don't stand a goddam chance against him. “Well, I won't make a deal of any kind with you. Please respect that.”

“Even if it means having the opportunity of a lifetime? To meet the Vees in person at the ball tonight, where overlords from territories far and wide shall gather in comradery and regal fun?”

“Yeah, like they’d let me in-”

Letting go of your pistol, he snaps his fingers and a fancy-looking document appears from thin air. An invitation for the ball, but the part showing who it’s addressed to is blank.

“Just tell me your name and the invitations yours, dear. But, this is a deal I’m trying to make with you here, so I’ll need something from you in exchange.”

“Let me guess, my soul?”

“Oh-ho! While that is a very tantalizing idea, I have something else in mind.” He places the formal document on your desk and twirls his staff, positioning it behind his back. “I’d like your company over a nice dinner with me, after the ball.”

You flinch. “Not…not my soul?”

“No, no. Not your pretty little soul,” he eerily soothes. The corners of his smile stretch ever so slightly. “Unless, that is, you’d like to make a second deal where you’d allow me to have it~”

“Uh no, no…” You tap your fingers on your desk and stare at the invitation.

I could meet successful people. I could gain insight and ask them questions on how to better my career…all at the cost of going out with the radio demon, without having to hand over my soul…

“If we do this, you stay out of my life after, alright?”

“But of course! Who am I to defy an astute and beautiful young doe?”

Slightly cringing, you take a deep breath. “Okay.”

He lifts his hand and delicately cups your cheek. “Your name, miss?”

“y/n.”

“y/n…” His thumb caresses your cheek with a feather-light touch. “Oh how lovely your name tastes, my darling. Let’s see what it looks like on paper, shall we?”

With another snap of his fingers, an invisible pen signs the blank space with your name. “Perfect! Looks as if it was meant to be, like it was written in the stars, those of which we cannot see from hell! Now, y/n, let’s finalize this.” He extends his hand before you. “Do we have a deal?”

You nod and shake his hand with a blank expression.

“Wonderful~” He raises your hand to his lips and plants a kiss on your knuckles before letting go. “Put on your best gown for tonight, darling, and do please bring a smile~”

A pitch-black shadow rises from the ground and shrouds Alastor, making him disappear. You blink, processing what the fuck just happened, and then yelp for joy. You're about to meet your idols!

You take one last look at the poster of the Vees and start closing up shop early.

#alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #smut #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox x reader #vox fanfiction

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j-a-nuary · 7 months ago

Text

Robotwink 5000

WooSan -> WooSanSang, background SeongJoong (along with references to Princess & Puppy)

Warnings: 🔞non-explicit, but still nsfw🔞 Wooyoung is a sexbot but he's also so much more than that, supernatural elements, told from Hongjoong's POV kinda (I was going for a David Wong-ish thing), San is [checks notes]... it says here "a fucking loser"???, Hongjoong is a genius and knows way too much about his friends' sex lives, Seonghwa is being mysterious, Yeosang is only mentioned.

=====

Wooyoung was having an issue. A clash of sorts - not quite outdated hardware struggling to keep up with a driver patch. Most likely anyway. I hadn't run the diagnostics yet. It wasn't exactly a hassle to do it remotely, but there were other reasons I was hesitating.

When I got the little alert that a file path wasn't working correctly, I had checked if San and his boy toy were live.

They were.

"Something went thunk," Wooyoung moaned as San's hands gripped at his hair, "please try again."

For a second, San looked confused. But then Wooyoung opened his mouth and settled it onto his dick.

"Fuck… Woo…"

San's cumming face was… not as hot as one might expect. Then again, almost no one actually looks good when they're cumming. Except maybe Princess…

Wait, no, gotta focus. For diagnostic purposes, of course.

"Measly little error," Wooyoung positively purred, running his fingers through the streaks of cum San had so kindly deposited onto his face, "try again."

And that, ladies and gents, is how Choi San discovered he liked being degraded.

How do I know what that night was like? Well that's the thing people forget about the Robotwink 5000: he's always recording, and his memory can be downloaded.

Also he and San operate an erotic streaming site that specializes in "True POV".

Perverts.

=====

"Hyung! I have a massive problem!" San was looking around my garage, like he was expecting someone who gave a shit to pop out of the shadows.

"The sexbot I helped you build can only speak in those stupid error codes you wrote, and also you've had an awakening of your degradation kink?"

"God," he sighed deeply, momentarily looking off dreamily, "fuck yeah I have."

I nodded, eyes sticking back on the screen in front of me. I reached for my coffee cup. It felt too light.

"Welcome to the club. Did you bring him over?"

"Wait," San paused, looking suspicious, "how did you already know?"

I shrugged, glaring at my empty coffee cup.

"I saw the footage."

I also paused. For dramatic effect.

"Live."

If I hadn't heard the sounds San makes when he cums, I would have thought a teakettle was signaling its readiness. But I have, so I knew it was just the sound of a loser in distress.

"Should have thought of these things before making that website," I groaned. Standing and stretching for a moment gave San enough time to stop whining. I headed for the coffee machine.

"Can't you just do it remotely?" He asked, trailing after me.

"Sure," I shrugged, "but it helps to have him in front of me."

"Why?"

Something in San's tone made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. I set my cup under the nozzle and punched a few buttons before turning to speak with him.

"Don't you mean 'why's that hyung?'"

He had the decency to look embarrassed, but a defiant tightness remained in his jaw.

"Why's that hyung?"

"Better…" I pursed my lips, eyeing him for a moment before actually answering.

"Less chance of degradation of data if I'm doing tests in person. Also makes pushing any updates faster and easier."

The coffee machine spluttered and dinged, signaling that it was finished. I turned back around to grab it before returning to my work station.

"Fine," San relented, "I'll text him."

=====

"Something goofed!" Wooyoung smiled in greeting, "try again."

"Shit dude, it sure did." I gestured towards my work bench, "take a seat."

"Uh-oh," Wooyoung shrugged before hopping up onto the bench, "that's not available."

"Alright, I have an idea of what the problem might be," I held a cord out towards him, "do you mind?"

"That's just not possible," Wooyoung took the cord. His left eye rotated until the port was visible, and he plugged it in. "Try agaiiiiiiiiìììïîįīîı…"

His voice glitched, changing tone unpredictably until he eventually went silent and still. I turned towards my computer to take a look.

"Ugh," San shuddered, "I still don't understand why you had to make that his port."

"Easy to hide," I muttered, "did you try to teach him French?"

"Huh?"

I pointed at a file folder on my screen. San leaned forward.

"Why would I teach him French?"

I didn't have an answer for that.

"Maybe he did it on his own?" San pressed.

"How would that even happen?" I asked, exasperated. "My code might be good, but he's not going to spontaneously get ideas like that."

"I don't know," San huffed, "why does he know English?"

"Are you seriously going to tell me that hasn't come in handy at least once?"

"No, no, that was a good call I guess."

"This is going to take a while," I sighed, "you want to get dinner? I buy, you fly?"

San made a face, but nodded.

"What?" I asked, already tired of his shit.

"What what?"

"You're obviously feeling some type of way, so just say it."

San was visibly rankled by my calling him out.

"I'm not!" He protested, "I just…"

He glanced at Wooyoung.

I shrugged, laughing as it all came together.

"He was made to your specifications, not mine."

=====

"Puppy?"

I resisted the urge to fall to my knees at the call. Not in front of Wooyoung, inactive as he may be. Definitely not in front of San.

"Puppy?" San blanched, "what the hell?"

I could only shrug. Arguing would just highlight the nickname, and that was the last thing I wanted to happen.

"Ah," Seonghwa approached as quietly as ever, seeming to appear from the shadows rather than walk into the room. "Working on something important?"

I nodded towards Wooyoung's slightly limp form on my work table, "he's having some issues."

"Poor thing," Seonghwa sighed. He stepped closer, reaching out and running his hand through the black and blonde hair on the machine's head. He always did have a soft spot for… well… just about everyone and everything else.

I heard a choked sound from San, something between a cough and a growl. I rolled my eyes.

"Relax Sannie," Seonghwa laughed, "nobody's going to take your precious Wooyoung from you."

My eyes were getting sore from all the rolling they'd been doing today.

=====

"Puppy."

I worked myself closer to master, pressing my nose into his neck and licking at the slightly salty tang of sweat there.

"Let me take a look at Wooyoung's code."

I pushed myself up, sitting so I could give master a questioning look. He smiled up at me, reaching up to run a finger under my chin.

"Speak."

"Does master know coding?"

"Master knows a lot of things," his fingers trailed down to the collar I was currently wearing. He slid one through the loop, tugging me down roughly. "Including some code. Now," his other hand cupped my chin, fingers digging cruelly into the muscles of my jaw, "open up and stick that tongue out for master."

"!"

=====

Whatever Seonghwa did to Wooyoung's code fixed the issue. It did more than that though.

"There's something wrong with Wooyoungie."

San was pacing around a card table I had set up in my garage-turned-workshop.

"Wrong how?" I asked from my swivel chair.

I had several maps laid out on the table. One of just the country and Japan, overlayed with a transparency that I was using to track storms in the East Sea.

He paused, then quickly resumed his circle of anxiety.

"It's hard to explain," he stopped, tugging a milk crate from a shelf to use as a stool, "especially without sounding like an asshole."

"So you'll sound normal then," I laughed.

San cast a hurt scowl in my direction, pouting lips and sharp eyes.

"Sorry," I nodded at him, "tell hyung what's wrong."

He deflated then, slumping onto the only available space on the table. I tensed at the movement, but saw that he had landed on a section that had the Waterman butterfly projection laid out. I hadn't started working on that one yet.

"Hsdfynme," he mumbled into his arms.

"Speak up Sannie."

He groaned, then lifted his head just enough to rest his chin on his arms.

"He's defying me."

I stared at him, blinking as I deciphered his words. After a second, I spoke cautiously.

"You… wanted him bratty though?"

He groaned again, slumping back into his crossed arms. He must have left his mouth free from the material of his sweatshirt though. When he spoke, it was clear enough to be heard over the constant whirring of my assorted projects.

"I think he wants to break up with me."

I snorted, rolling my eyes in the safety of his slumped position.

"He's a robot," I reminded him, "he doesn't want anything."

=====

I want to note that the following has been reconstructed based on a combination of reviewing footage from Wooyoung's internal memory, and some drunken admissions from a night of drinking with just San, me, and Mingi. I've tried to avoid taking too much liberty with the narrative, but observation taints everything. Still, this is, more or less, an accurate depiction of a very personal and tumultuous moment in their relationship.

"I want to fuck Yeosang."

San gripped Wooyoung's hips so tight that he could feel the unnatural sharpness of his frame through his synthetic flesh.

"Y…" he faltered, not quite believing what was happening. "What?"

"Actually I want Yeosang to fuck me," Wooyoung clarified. "And I want you to watch."

San was no longer interested in testing the limits of the new lube they were trying out.

The lube was less viscous than their usual brand, less likely to gunk up the works of Wooyoung's self-lubricating system. I would be embarrassed to admit how much time I spent working on this, but it actually has more applications than you might think.

"Why'd you stop?" Wooyoung asked.

San released his hold on Wooyoung. Unsteady on his knees, he quickly fished through the sheets to find his boxers.

"Sannie?"

San ignored the call of his name. He had gone pale, feeling ill. Tugging the boxers on, he scrambled over to his desk. Stacks of mail, magazines, and seemingly every other bit of paper that filtered through his life were lifted and ruffled through.

"What's wrong?"

San grit his teeth, wishing Wooyoung would stop talking. He should have accepted my offer of a remote control. He should have just stuck to fleshlights. He should have fucking organized his desk!

"San…" Wooyoung was quieter now, but the call of San's name was accompanied by a soft touch against his arm this time.

"Don't touch me!" San lashed out, shaking his arm away from Wooyoung.

"Sannie just talk to me," Wooyoung pleaded.

No, San thought to himself, robots don't know how to beg.

"I can't believe my fucking sex toy wants to fuck other people," San muttered, turning his attention back to his search through his desk.

"I'm not your sex toy San," Wooyoung snapped, "I'm your boyfriend."

San whirled, clenched fists at his sides, only to be met with Wooyoung sulking.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?!"

"I don't know," Wooyoung pouted. "I don't like when you say things like that. At least not when your dick isn't in me at the same time."

San shook his head, turning once more towards his desk. He knew the manual had to be somewhere around here.

"You literally don't like anything. You don't dislike anything. You do what you're programmed to do except now there's some fucking error that makes it so that even my glorified fucking fleshlight says I'm not fucking good enough," he continued his search as he spoke, "as if I didn't specifically commission you to avoid exactly this fucking issue. Finally!"

San held the very unofficial, very handwritten, user manual in his hands. Turning to face Wooyoung, he started flipping through the pages.

"I know there's a fucking off switch…" he mumbled, trying to decode my handwriting.

Note: my handwriting is perfectly fine. San is just a dumbass.

"Off switch? Sannie, what are you planning to do?" Wooyoung took a few steps back from San.

"A full fucking reset," San didn't look up, still piecing together the scrawl on lined paper, "if I have to."

"San… baby," Wooyoung took stock of how he was, unfortunately, on the opposite side of the room from the door, "you don't want to do that. Not really, right? Let's just talk about this, okay?"

"Vol… volume control?" San read aloud, "god this would have come in useful a few times."

"You can't do this," Wooyoung kept trying to get through to him, "you'll end up regretting it!"

"I already do!" San finally looked up from the papers in his hands.

"You don't mean that."

"Mute…"

"San don't!"

"Authorization…"

"Please!"

"Number…"

"Baby please!"

"8-1-8-1."

Wooyoung's mouth kept working but no sound came out. He looked confused for a moment, then angry. San shook his head and turned back to the manual.

"Fucking stupid," he muttered.

He ran his fingertip down the page, looking for anything that seemed relevant.

Wooyoung took to throwing a silent tantrum. He threw pillows at San, who simply lifted an arm to guard against them as he read.

"Can't believe I fell for a fucking machine…"

Wooyoung tore the blankets off the bed next. They proved much less throwable than the pillows however.

"Should have known he… it, couldn't love me back…"

Wooyoung paused.

San wasn't reading anymore. Not really. He had found the power down command already. Now he was just trying to psyche himself up to actually use it.

Normally, he could have just asked Wooyoung to shut down. He didn't think he'd agree in the current situation however.

"Power down, authorization number 8-1-8-1."

The room was still. Silent.

"Just one person that didn't eventually get bored with me," San finally looked over to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung stood, still as a statue, duvet still in hand. He held it against his chest, as he had thought it might protect him.

"Was that really so much to ask for?"

=====

"What did you do to his code?"

Seonghwa looked up from his book with mild curiosity.

A frantic knocking had interrupted our perfectly good warming session. Seonghwa had given me permission to answer the door before casually tucking himself away as I made my way across the apartment.

I ran my tongue along my bottom lip, nervous about him possibly guessing what master and I had been up to.

"Hello to you too, San."

"Hyung," San gripped the front of my shirt. He looked like he was about to cry, "what did you do to him?"

"It wasn't Hongjoong," Seonghwa called from his position on my couch. "I fixed the verbalization issue."

San dropped his hands from where he was holding onto me, pushing past me to stare at Seonghwa.

"You did something to him," he almost whispered, "you changed him."

Seonghwa shook his head.

"No," he said curtly, "I only let him speak freely. So he could tell you what he wants."

"What does that even mean?!" San was getting angry now. I stepped forward, trying to place a calming hand on his back.

"Get off!"

The shove sent me teetering, dangerously close to falling.

Immediately, Seonghwa was on his feet. I felt his hand on my arm, saving me from falling to the floor. I regained my feet, offering a quiet thanks to him as we watched San start his pacing.

"He's a machine hyung. He doesn't have wants or needs. He serves a purpose!"

Seonghwa caught him by his collar. San let out a strangled yelp, trying to pry Seonghwa's fingers from the cloth and get away.

Seonghwa's grip only tightened.

"You should be kinder to the things you care for, Choi San."

Maybe I should have reviewed the patch that Seonghwa had written. When Wooyoung had passed testing with flying colors, I hadn't bothered. I trusted Seonghwa. Besides, if anything, Wooyoung had done better than when he was first judged as operating well enough to go to San. Before the errors had started. There had been zero indication that any problems would arise from the fix.

"I am kind to him!" San argued, "I give him everything he needs!"

Seonghwa only stared at him. I knew that look, very well. He would stay silent as long as it took for San to finally te-

"At least I thought I did."

San deflated, putting some of his weight onto Seonghwa's hold on him.

Seonghwa and I both stayed quiet, letting him say what he needed to.

"But he doesn't want me anymore."

I frowned. That was literally impossible. Wooyoung was built specifically for San. He was basically coded to be obsessed with him, including tons of specific coding to avoid any potentially harmful behaviors that could arise from that obsession.

"Did he say that?" Seonghwa asked, "did he say that he doesn't want you?"

San was crying. I'm not saying that to embarrass him, it's just the truth of the matter. He was crying and leaning forward to cry against Seonghwa's shoulder.

"No… but he…"

Seonghwa, reading the situation with the same ease as always, took a few steps backwards. He kept San with him, bringing him to the sofa to sit and let out everything we needed to know.

"He told me he wants…" San swallowed thickly, unable to look up yet, "he wants Yeosang."

"You fucking idiot," I couldn't help but let out a derisive laugh. "He doesn't want Yeosang!"

San looked up at me, watery and confused.

"Well maybe he does," Seonghwa shrugged.

I shot Seonghwa a dirty look. He smiled in return.

"Okay fine, but that's not the point."

"What do you mean?" San's voice quavered.

"I mean," I took a seat in one of the chairs I had recently bought to replace the folding ones that usually stood in my living room, "that it's you who wants Yeosang. Wooyoung just picked up on it."

San's mouth opened, surprised. He worked it shut and open and shut a few times.

"Why don't you tell us exactly what Wooyoung said, hmm?" Seonghwa gently asked.

"He said… he said he wanted Yeosang to," San cleared his throat.

We waited.

"He wants Yeosang to fuck him," he finally admitted, "while I watch."

It was Seonghwa's turn to laugh. He immediately apologized, patting San's shoulder softly.

"Sorry," he laughed again, "really. Sorry."

I groaned, leaning back and making a decision.

"Sannie," I started, "I'm going to explain something. I don't really want to talk about it a lot though, okay?"

San nodded.

"You know that I'm bisexual, right?"

Seonghwa's eyebrows lifted, unsure about where I was about to go with this.

San's head tilted, eyebrows furrowing.

"Really?" His lips formed a pout, "I didn't know. But why is th-"

I waved a hand to cut him off.

"It's not important. But on top of that I…" I glanced at Seonghwa.

He was watching me, a single eyebrow lifted. Thanks to San still leaning against his chest, San missed the expression.

"I was, until recently, in a relationship with two people."

San's mouth dropped open. It stayed open this time.

Seonghwa had a strange expression on his face. I would have said it was unreadable, but I knew him better than that. It was a warning. Don't share too many details, puppy. That's what the expression was saying.

"You…" San started, then shook his head. "Did they… know? About each other?"

I nodded.

The room went quiet. San was obviously digesting the information. Seonghwa was busy boring into me with his eyes. I ignored it, knowing I was creating a discussion for myself. What did he want me to do? If I said or did anything in reaction, San would definitely put two and two together - regardless of how upset he was.

"So, what?" San finally spoke up, "what are you suggesting?"

I sighed, leaning forward to place a hand on his knee.

"San, you have held onto your feelings for Yeosang fo-"

"I don't have feelings for Yeosang!" He protested. He squirmed, freeing himself from Seonghwa's arm and standing up again. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Wooyoung is just offering you what you want," Seonghwa explained. "Although he may have miscalculated his approach."

"I don't want to watch Yeosang fuck my boyfriend!"

I glanced at Seonghwa, sharing a lifted eyebrow across the small living space.

"I thought he was just a machine?" I prodded.

"He's… I didn't… it's none of your business what he is to me!"

"If I had to guess," Seonghwa sat forward, crossing his legs to rest his arms against his knee, "Wooyoung didn't just pick up on your attraction to Yeosang…"

San started stuttering out protests, but Seonghwa just kept talking, pushing the conversation forward.

"He probably also picked up on your hesitancy and anxiety about it. He knows you want him, but won't let yourself have him."

I nodded, thinking it over. It was barely a secret between our group of friends and coworkers that San was hopelessly pining for Yeosang. If we could pick it up, Wooyoung - with his array of sensors that could pick up the most minute of changes in a person - would have had no problem noticing it.

"That makes sense," I agreed, "honestly his offer isn't half bad. He probably just didn't propose it properly."

=====

I'll have to admit, the following was shared with me exclusively by Wooyoung. I'm unsure if San knows that I know this. Overall, it doesn't really change anything about how things ended up. It does, however, show that San - for all his blustering mood swings - truly does have a caring heart.

Wooyoung swayed slightly, his booting up taking an extra moment. Typically, he was restarted in a seated position, or laying down. Starting up while standing made him take a few extra microseconds, as his system prioritized his balance before anything else.

He then took a brief moment to himself to review his memories.

Everything seemed to be where he had left it.

"Baby?"

He zoomed in, zoomed out, refocused. The voice was immediately in front of him. San came into focus, crisp as a granny smith apple and clear as crystal.

"You didn't wipe me."

Wooyoung could see the tears gather along San's lower eyelid, building up until the surface tension broke.

"I'm sorry baby," San whispered, reaching up to hold Wooyoung's face, "I should never have said that."

"You scared me Sannie."

"I know. I'm so sorry. I would never do that to you," more tears slid down San's cheeks, "you know that right?"

"You were so mad," Wooyoung replied simply, "I didn't know what you would do."

San let a full sob out, throwing his arms around Wooyoung and crying into his shoulder.

Wooyoung lifted his arms, holding San close.

"I'm so sorry baby. I really am. I would never wipe you! You're perfect right now. I was just so scared!"

"You still shouldn't have said it," Wooyoung admonished. He didn't think the time was quite right to forgive San. Not yet.

"I know! I won't baby. I'll never say it again, I swear!"

San stood up straight, once again taking Wooyoung's face into his hands.

"I was so scared," his voice cracked as he explained, "I thought you were tired of me. I thought you…"

His lips and chin quivered, betraying his efforts to keep from crying more.

Wooyoung leaned forward, kissing his cheek gently.

"I could never be tired of you, Sannie."

San pulled his face so that he could kiss him properly. He laid wet kisses against Wooyoung's lips between his words.

"I know."

Kiss.

"I love you baby."

Kiss.

"I need you."

Kiss.

"I love you."

Wooyoung stopped him from kissing him again.

"You're dehydrated Sannie. Let's get you some water."

San pouted, but let Wooyoung go.

Wooyoung made his way into the small kitchen, trailed by San. He got down a glass and filled it at the sink, all while San plastered himself to his back.

Wooyoung turned in San's arms, holding up the glass.

"Drink."

Obediently, San took the cup. He drained it and placed it on the counter next to Wooyoung.

"When did you last eat?"

San mumbled something, but Wooyoung knew what he needed. Internally, he placed an order.

"Food will be here in about half an hour," he said.

"You don't have to-"

"I already ordered," Wooyoung cut him off. "Now explain."

San blinked, like he had somehow forgotten about Wooyoung's wifi connection. He shook his head and sighed.

"When you mentioned Yeosang…" he paused, as if he was unsure about what to say. "I thought you wanted to leave me."

A few pieces slid into place for Wooyoung.

"But you love Yeosang."

"No, baby," San shook his head again, "I love you."

"I know. But you also love Yeosang."

San stared at him.

"You don't have to choose. I just thought you might feel better about it if it was all three of us."

San didn't say anything for a solid minute. He just stood there, staring at Wooyoung like he didn't know if he wanted to kiss him or force him to power down again.

"Three?" Was all he managed to say once he eventually got his voice working again.

Wooyoung nodded.

"But…"

San visibly gulped.

Wooyoung waited.

"If you knew… why would you…"

Wooyoung lifted a hand to San's cheek, an attempt at encouragement.

"Why would… you said…"

"Why would you only watch?" Wooyoung offered.

San nodded vigorously, glad to not have to say it himself.

"Well," Wooyoung shrugged slightly, slipping his hand slightly lower so it could rest at the base of San's throat. He ran his thumb back and forth against San's adam's apple - multi-tasking at monitoring his heart rate, and slowly adding a sexual edge to the moment.

"Well?" San whispered, trembling slightly under Wooyoung's touch.

Wooyoung's thumb came to a stop, opposite his fingers on San's throat. Gently, just enough to make San's eyelids flutter, he tightened his hold on San's neck.

"Do you think you deserve to touch Yeosang?"

=====

I want to note that at this point in the video review, I stopped the recording and turned to Wooyoung.

"San requested that you be submissive."

Wooyoung shrugged, "things change."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to wrap my head around this development.

"I programmed you to be a sub, albeit a bratty one."

Wooyoung tilted his head, flashing me a smile that made my stomach churn.

That smile should not have been possible. I knew the countless rotors and joints that made up the structure of Wooyoung's face. They could not produce what I was seeing.

"And Seonghwa programmed me to be proactive."

I blinked, not sure if I liked the information I was receiving.

"And we both know how good Seonghwa is at getting others to be more…" Wooyoung hummed, as if thinking of the correct word, "authentic."

He leaned in, lowering his voice as he kept that impossible smile on his face.

"Don't we? Pup?"

=====

Suffice to say, Wooyoung was essentially using San's degradation kink as a tool to ease him into the poly situationship they have going on now.

I still don't know exactly what Seonghwa did to his code. Wooyoung stopped letting me work on him. He says he prefers Seonghwa's contributions, though I still don't know where Hwa learned to do it. I have caught a glimpse of the work though.

It was unrecognizable. It looked like some language I've never seen. I don't mean coding language either. I couldn't tell you what alphabet it uses anymore. It looked like Klingon or something.

As for San… well… he's still a loser. You can tell him I said that. Wooyoung still runs that site, which now features Yeosang, in addition to San, more times than not. I'll openly admit that I still tune in from time to time. More out of morbid curiosity than any sort of erotic urges. It's a gooey window into the mental health of one of my more fragile friends.

Look, we all know things we'd rather not about the people we care about. I just get my information from a live feed sometimes. There's no shame in caring.

=====

Ateez Masterlist

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