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jinxs-gf · 3 months ago

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snack thief

the team x spider!reader

summary: someone is stealing your snacks and you’re going to figure out who.

content, warnings: kind of a crack fic, spider cusses a lot? not proofread

word count: 1.8k

a.n. Aunt May mentioned! who cheered?

It was peaceful in the confines of Mount Justice. So peaceful it was almost suspicious to the team. They barely get downtime nowadays, something they used to practically beg for. Now all they want is a break.

It's perfect and quiet and peaceful.

Until they hear their friend scream bloody murder.

Spider.

Everyone jumps up, alarmed and ready to fight.

You're in the kitchen holding an empty container, the refrigerator wide open, and looking more stressed out than they've ever seen you. But there was no threat?

The team is still worried but confused. There was no one else in the kitchen with you so...? Why were you screaming? And there was seemingly no spider on the container you were holding, the only creature that could scare you bad enough for you to freak out like this. (You denied this claim again and again, unfortunately they didn't believe you. How embarrassing was that? Spider had arachnophobia? How damaging to your reputation.)

You continue to stare at the container, and your friends have concluded their near heart attack at your cry for help was all for not.

Their shoulders all sag simultaneously, breaths of relief leaving their mouths.

Kaldur is the first to speak, "What has gotten into you, Spider? You scared us all." He does not sound happy.

And if you took the time to look at the rest of your teammates, the annoyance would be evident.

But no. You continued to stare at your stupid container.

"Hello!" - Artemis

"Earth to Spider!" - Robin

"We're not getting any younger over here." - Wally

Roy only sighs, shaking his head, Conner raising a brow beside him, amused for the most part.

M'gann just stands quietly, wondering if she should read your mind without your permission to figure out the problem or not.

"Which one of your imbeciles did this?" Your voice was eerily calm...it was disturbing.

They all shared the same sentiment. What?

You glare in their direction, eyeing each one of your supposed friends carefully.

"One of you is the cause of this," you hold up your empty container. "Someone ate my cookies. I've had the worst day of my life and the only thing that could help was having my precious cookies. Only I get here and they're gone!" Ah. They get it now.

"I'm going to find out which one of you is responsible. And it won't be pretty."

"Uhh why was it in the fridge anyways?"

"Shut it Robin. They’re leftovers. And you’re at the top of my suspect list. You and your little buddy there," you eye Wally.

He squirms in his spot.

You were grocery shopping for your aunt when you spotted them.

Spider-Person gummies.

You wince, the name Spider-Person did not roll off the tongue correctly. You prefer Spider like the team calls you. Or maybe Arachnid would be cool? Oh well, it's too late now. The name Spider-Person was plastered onto kid's snacks for Pete's sake! There was no coming back from that.

Whatever. You threw it in your basket and immediately opened the box when you got home. Showing off to Aunt May, she was very proud, just like you thought she’d be. Except for when—

"I always thought you'd be known for curing diseases or something, but children’s snacks? This'll do!"

"Hey!" She was joking of course (right?).

And later that day you brought it to the team's kitchen, wanting to show off to them. You didn't want them to eat it of course, it was going to be your post-mission snack. A little pick-me-up.

No one but Red Tornado was there, which was a little weird but it was a rare day off. You'll just come back when everyone is here.

You made sure to stick a post-it on the box of gummies, effectively claiming them yours that shall not be touched.

You hadn't left your snacks alone in the kitchen of Mount Justice since your cookies disappeared a mere week ago.

You still hadn't figured out who the culprit was.

You will. One of these days.

You leave and don't come back until the next day, everyone is there.

"Oh goodie! I have something to show you guys!"

Only you get to the kitchen cabinet, open the box, and...no.

Nonononono

The box of "Spider-Person Gummies" was completely empty.

The box that clearly had your name written with the words "DO NOT EAT!" on the post-it!

You scream like the first time.

"Who did it?!"

The team is a little slower this time around, not trusting your panicked screams after the first incident.

Robin face palms, "Come on spider, it's not that serious."

You gape at him, "Not that serious?! Are you crazy?!" You eye him suspiciously, "it was you, wasn't it?"

"What?! No! I'm just being reasonable here. You can always buy more,” he shrugs, clearly not seeing the bigger picture. Someone is eating your snacks without permission. Deliberately ignoring your name that was written in bold on the post-it stuck to the front. You try a different approach though.

"First of all, I don't exactly come from a background of money. I can't just waste valuable green for some fruit snacks! And second, it was the last box in that section. How do I know they'll be restocked by the time I get back? What if they were there for limited time?!" The thought terrifies you, "oh no."

The team watches you nearly have a breakdown over your gummies "...those snacks are usually less that 10 dollars, Spider."

"And that's too much!"

"You can't be that poor."

"Eh, you'd be surprised."

It’s a full two weeks of the snack thief’s attacks.

Your spidey senses go off at the two week mark and they lead you to the kitchen.

You gasp.

"You!"

Wally is caught mid slice into the chocolate cake you made for the team, he looks petrified at being caught.

His voice cracks, "what?"

"It's been you! I knew it was you!"

"What! No! You made this for the team, right? That's not fair to pin the blame on me when I have permission to eat this!"

Okay, he's got a point.

"Whatever. You're still at the top of my list."

You’re in stealth mode with the rest of the team, waiting for your cue to attack.

You communicate through the mind link to keep yourself from boredom, this is gonna take a while.

You decide to bring up the most recent snack attack.

‘I still need to figure out who this snack thief is. They took my leftover brownies this time! The ones May made for me. Do you know how upsetting it was to see the brownies made by my very precious, hardworking Aunt all gone?’

You hoped to weed the rat out through sympathy.

‘Oh...that was yours?’

‘M'gann!’

‘I'm sorry! I didn't know!’

Just then, Kaldur makes your cue to attack. And before you know it, you’re in battle. However, your mind is elsewhere.

The distraction earns you a kick to the face, your spidey senses were screaming but you couldn't be bothered to really care at the moment, too focused on the fact that M'gann admitted to eating your brownies.

She's the snack thief?! But she was at the bottom of your list...

You regret ignoring your senses immediately, that kick was more powerful that you thought it’d be. Definitely going to bruise later.

‘I'm not the snack thief! I just thought Red Tornado left them! Remember? He said he wanted to be more involved with us outside of missions? I swear I know better! You forgot a post-it with your name this time. I'm really sorry, I should've known.’

You sigh, she sounds too sincere for it to truly be her.

‘It's alright, I forgive you. This time. It was my bad anyways.’

There’s many instances of coincidences as your friends would call it.

Robin caught digging into your chips;

“But you said I could have some!”

“No not those ones! My other chips!”

“Wow, thanks for specifying that.”

Conner caught…eating your candy?!

Conner doesn’t even eat sweets like that, so what changed? Or was that all a ploy? Pretending to not be fond of sweets only to eat yours behind your back…

But his eyes pleaded forgiveness, truth. Damn him.

Roy, Kaldur, and Artemis also had their moments of suspicion.

So who was it?

You only had one more course of action. You beg May to let her borrow your phone.

“It’s an emergency!”

“An emergency that could last all day? Or more?” She lifts a brow, don’t let her intimidate you, Spider.

“Pleeeaaaase,” you bat your lashes at her.

She can’t resist you. The child she’s come to see as her own. You are hers, no one could tell her otherwise. She sighs, “Don’t know why I even try with you.”

“Thanks May!” You plant a kiss on her cheek, “love you!”

“Whatever kid,” trying not to show disappointment in herself for allowing you to get to her.

Set your phone up in the kitchen cabinet of Mount Justice with your snack. Hit FaceTime with Aunt May’s phone and accept on yours.

There’s no way you don’t catch your thief now.

You wait a good 20 minutes before you’re already tired of your plan.

You groan in annoyance, can they hurry up and attempt to take your snack already?!

It takes another three hours before something happens.

Your spidey senses blare, making you jump from your place on the couch with Artemis and Roy. They look at you like you’re crazy, yeah you were getting used to that.

There’s shuffling on the other end of the call.

Whoever is in the kitchen is toast. You look down at May’s phone.

“You!”

“Uh oh.”

“I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it! From the beginning! How could I be so stupid and not listen to my gut?!”

Wally states back at you through the phone screen, eyes wide.

“You lying son of a-”

“Listen, we can talk this out-”

“Put my cookies down! You know damn well my name is written on the box!”

He surrenders, placing the cookies back in its place.

The rest of your team came out to witness this very amusing and long awaited moment.

It was funny, the living room you were in was right next to the kitchen, meaning speaking through the phones was pretty useless. They won’t say anything, lest they catch your attention and get yelled at.

“I’m going to ruin you for what you did, Speedy Bitch.”

Roy hears his code name and it’s enough for him to scare. He holds his hands up, “whoa! What did I do?”

“Not you! Obviously not you!”

You get up from the couch, bolting to your “friend.”

Wally panics, “Someone call Superman! Spider’s gone crazy!” And he books it.

It’s okay. He may be the fastest man alive, but no one messes with a Spider’s food.

so who’s attending Wally’s funeral? definitely not spider.

this is based off a video I saw, someone’s sibling was on FaceTime w a phone in the cabinet to catch who was eating their snacks 💀 I just HAD to use it

#spider & the team #young justice x reader #conner kent x reader #robin x reader #superboy x you #superboy x reader #kaldur’ahm x reader #kaldur x reader #wally west x reader #artemis crock x reader #m’gann m’orzz x reader #roy harper x reader #aqualad x reader #red arrow x reader #dick grayson x reader #omg it’s 2am what am I doing #young justice fanfiction

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morose-melodies · 2 months ago

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the nameless stowaway | yandere! capitano x reader

summary: while on a ship trying to get to natlan, the captain found a way to pass time; watching you, a stowaway.

content warning: the captain killed someone and that's about it!! (tell me if I missed anything)

for two days and three long nights had the captain been on this ship as it aimlessly navigated the sea.

it started on the second day when the ship went slightly off course. the captain of the ship could not figure out how to get back on course and now, the captain was forced to remain on the ship and slowly get sick of it and everyone on the ship.

besides him, eight other people occupied the ship, not including the captain of the ship... oh, and you were also there.

you were a sneaky stowaway and he only ever caught glances of you at night - watching as you snagged snacks from people's bags and ran back to wherever you had come from.

he didn't mind, nor did he care enough to stop you, that was, as long as you didn't try it on him.

but, tonight was a bit different - instead of stealing from people's bags, you snuck into the galley and shut the door behind yourself. the captain chuckled, you would have a feast tonight.

most of the passengers had felt too sick to eat that morning, so most of the food had been left untouched.

you had eaten all that you could, hoping it would keep you full enough for the next two days before creeping out of the galley. you knew that the captain knew, and considering all you had heard about him, you were afraid that one day he could come and behead you for stealing people's food.

but he hadn't, not yet at least.

you went back to your hiding place, behind a large pile of luggage, and snuggled up in your thin, sort of damp blanket and rested - soon enough, you'd be in natlan.

...

when a storm came, and the waves got violet and rocked the ship - you could not rest behind the luggage, let alone outside. you got up from where you rested, blanket over your shoulder as the cold rain pelted down on your skin.

no one was out; all of them rested in the berth, and you could not enter it since you had snuck onto the ship.

at this point, you were shivering, tumbling, and drenched in rain - seeing no point in your blanket anymore, you tossed it away, as you did, you saw the captain, standing at the door of the berth... exiting it?

you stilled, this was the perfect time for him to kill you, right? he would toss you overboard and no one would notice or even know that he had killed you, maybe, or maybe he would draw his sword and chop you up into little piec-

"I'm sure you must be regretting your decision to sneak onto this ship now, right?" it was an idle conversation or perhaps a threat, was he threatening to tell everyone?

"oh? sorta... but, it'll be fine once we get to natlan."

"I doubt we'll make it to natlan. it seems more likely that we end up back in snezhaya," the captain sighed afterward - he would have to report to the tsaritsa and blame the captain of the ship which seemed all so childish.

"huh? I thought this ship was headed to natlan..."

oh, you looked so very disappointed. the captain shook his head, "that's no longer the case. the captain has no idea where he's headed."

"aren't you the captain?"

"the captain of the ship," he clarified, shrugging his coat from his shoulders and approaching you, placing it over your trembling shoulders, "I'm afraid i cannot make room for you in the berth - you'll have to make do with my coat."

...

and, of course, you made due.

you survived the storm - you might have come down with something but you survived. as you lay in your hiding spot, the large coat over your shoulders, you waited for the passengers to finish their breakfast so you could have the leftovers.

it was a while before you heard the passengers quiet down, and you figured they had split up, leaving the galley, so you got up, leaving the coat behind, and snuck into the galley.

they had hardly left anything behind today.

"hm..." still, you ate whatever was left behind. though it wasn't filling, it was something and you were grateful.

after finishing, you turned to leave but there stood the captain - wait, how long has he been standing there? "have you been watching me?"

"nonsense," he replied with a firm shake of his head, before stepping past you, "I see you haven't changed in your ways?" was he teasing? of course you haven't changed! you were starving and-

the captain set a plate of untouched biscuits and other foods on the counter, "woah... where'd you get those from?" you inched towards the plate, grabbed the biscuit, and ate it.

"it's all leftovers."

"those guys are hogs," you mumbled as you stuffed your face with another biscuit.

and the captain bit back a smile.

...

it was times like these where you doubted if you'd survive - for the last five days, all you could smell was saltwater and humid air, and now, you could smell nothing.

you hadn't bothered to get up for a while now - instead, you remained curled up in the captain's coat, pitying yourself.

perhaps this wasn't worth it...

"stowaway, where are you?"

it was the captain. he had been looking for you for a while now - he was under the assumption that you had fallen overboard but he couldn't be sure since he did not know where you went to hide every day after snagging food.

you didn't want to reply, but found yourself doing so anyway, "'m here."

the captain paused and turned to face the pile of luggage. "have you been hiding here the entire time?"

"yeah..."

you didn't sound well, not at all. the captain pushed the luggage aside and though you groaned and protested, he tugged you out of your hiding spot, his coat still wrapped around you.

"you took no precaution before getting onto the ship, did you?" the captain looked at you - sickly and pale, and sighed. "stay here, don't move an inch," he instructed you before standing and walking off.

first, he ruins your hiding spot, and then he walks off? it was a shame you were too tired to fuss about it.

when the captain came back, he had a warm drink in hand. he crouched down to your level, took your hand, and placed the drink into your hand, "I doubt it'll cure you, but, you're deathly cold, it will surely warm you but I'm afraid this is all i can do to help."

"thank you," you mumbled before sipping at the drink.

while you sipped at your drink, the captain fixed your hiding spot that he had ruined and felt the urge to give you another one of his coats to keep you comfortable, but he resisted.

...

each day, the captain would bring you a warm drink to help your cold clear up, and though he doubted it would work, you were already feeling much better.

you had crawled out of your hiding spot for the first time in a while, the captain's coat over your shoulders and you snuck to the galley.

just as you opened the door, you knew you had messed up - there was a man inside, and he had seen you.

you weakly smiled at the man, as you took a step back while he took steps towards you, "are you the rat that's been stealing all the leftovers?"

"i... um, maybe?"

"and are you the rat that's been stealing from people's luggage?"

"yes, but i'm sorry! i won't do it again, i promise-"

everything you had said was enough to piss the man off and the sight of you wearing the captain's coat only made him angrier.

the man grabbed your upper arm and tugged you along with him, even as you whined and tried to explain yourself, he did not listen.

"look, I'm sorry i won't do it again-"

"i don't wanna hear it from you-"

"I'll take the stowaway from here," it was the captain, once again swooping in and saving you, "good looking out. I'll make sure they cause you no more trouble."

the captain grabbed your arm and tugged you from the man's grip, pulling you along as he walked off, out of the man's sight. "you need to stay put," the captain commented as he brought you back to your hiding spot, "go on. I'll bring you something to eat - I'll do that for you every day, will that keep you out of trouble?"

"you don't have to-"

"I will. now, stay out of trouble."

...

"what'd you do with that stowaway?"

"i did away with them."

"really now?"

"of course. i would not lie."

"good, if you hadn't stopped me that day, i would have done it mysel-"

the man could do nothing but scream as he fell overboard and into the cold water.

soon enough he would die.

this was the preferable way, there was no need for the captain to bloody his sword over something so trivial.

...

"don't you feel hot wearing all of that armor?"

"not particularly."

"what about the mask, isn't that hot?"

"no."

"is that your hair?"

reaching forward, you tangled your fingers in his long black hair, "it is," the captain gently nudged your hand away, "there's no need to touch, though."

as sweet as you were, he had seen you sneeze into your hand moments earlier.

"my bad," you apologized, setting your hand to your side, "do i have to give you your coat back ever?"

"we've been over this, no? i have many other coats, so, keep that one," the captain replied, looking at you and the way your lip twitched at his reply.

"look at that cloud," you pointed above the two of you, and the captain looked up, "it's heart-shaped."

"I see that," he nodded before glancing at you; the way you smiled at a silly cloud was - hm, the captain found himself smiling while looking at you.

odd.

"wait-" you stood up, quickly running towards the railing and pointed ahead, "do you see that?? isn't that land??"

the captain also stood and looked to where you were pointing, and indeed, it was land. "you have a keen eye," the captain looked at you, at the way you grinned, at the way you held yourself, and dare he say he would miss you.

"ohmigosh!!" you cheered, leaning further over the railing to see where you were going... you saw snow and your shoulders dropped, "no way..."

the captain chuckled, looking at you once more, "this was all such an inconvenience," but, in a way, it felt worth it; after all, he was able to meet you.

"you were pretty cool, thanks for the coat... and um, thank you for not throwing me overboard or something," you looked up at the captain to see he was already looking at you.

"I wouldn't dream of harming you," the captain assured you and though you couldn't see it, he had hearts in his eyes as he looked at you.

he did not want this ship to reach snezhnaya - he preferred things stay the way they were but he knew that couldn't happen.

the captain was patient; he could wait. a person like you wouldn't give up on their dreams so easily.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere scenarios #capitano x reader #capitano #yandere capitano #yandere capitano x reader

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azzo0 · 10 months ago

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Had a silly thought of Bakugo eating your leftovers <3

Bakugo noticed you had a habit of leaving at least three to four bites of food on your plate on your first date. He kept staring back and forth between you and the unfinished food as you talked to him animatedly.

"Finish your food." He told you.

"Oh, I can't eat more. I'm really full."

He sighed in annoyance and stood up. He leaned over and grabbed your plate, seating himself again. He grumbled to himself about wasting delicious food and finished your leftovers for you.

You watched him dreamily as he ate. Someone who could finish your leftovers. Very convenient.

From there on, it became the norm for you to pass your plate with unfinished food to Bakugo. He made sure to show his annoyance each time, but you knew he was more than glad to empty your plate for you. Over time, he trained his stomach to make room for your leftovers after finishing his portion.

At this point, the last two bites of your food are meant for him.

One day, you're having dinner together in his apartment. He cooked you your favourite dish. He finished his portion and watched you eat, waiting for you to slide the plate over to him. He stared in shock when you brought the chopsticks with the last bite to your mouth, oblivious to Bakugo glaring at you with pure offence.

How could you do that? It was a ritual for him to finish your food for two years now. And you just broke it. How dare you.

You glanced at him in confusion when you noticed him staring at you like you committed a crime against humanity. You cocked your head in question. "What's wrong?"

"You ate the last bite."

"What about it?"

"What do you mean what's wrong? The last bite is supposed to be mine." He said as if it should have been obvious.

"Oh- that's what you're mad at." You stifled a laugh at the sight of your pouty boyfriend glaring at you. He huffed and took the empty dishes to the sink. You followed him, hugging him from the back.

"Sorry, Kats. I'll leave you the last bite next time."

"No. You finished your food. You deserve an award." You did not need to be facing him to know he rolled his eyes.

"But clearly, I haven't gotten it yet." You poked his sides, trying to get a reaction out of him. "C'mon, stop being a baby."

"I'm not being a baby." He swatted your hand away.

"Yes, you are."

He sighed and gave you a peck on your lips, still grumpy. You smiled and hugged him again, looking up at him. "I'll give you my last bite next time. Promise."

"I'm going to steal it from you anyway."

#bakugo #katsuki #bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #kacchan #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou #azzo writes

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l0nelyish · 4 months ago

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It‘s about that sandwich!

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

prompt: where you just can’t help but stun Natasha… and maybe get on her nerves? she doesn’t know which one it is.

nothin but pure fluff and nat being pouty af

lil bit of grumpy nat x sunshine reader if you squint.

3rd pov

„That‘s it.“, Wanda turned around, confused. Witnessing Natasha angry, sure thing. Witnessing her confused? never.

“What’s the matter with you, everything alright?”

Natasha huffed, pouting almost childlike. It’s so not like her to seem this openly frustrated, but she couldn’t care less. “Do I seem alright to you? No. This is the fifth time this month she’s been emptying one of the pbj ingredients before i could make one for myself.”, she dragged her eyes across the room, almost analyzing as in ‘hide and seek’. Where could you have been? And why do you have to steal ‘her’ ingredients? Natasha was bothered by you, yes. Extremely.

Wanda took another look at Natasha and chuckled: “Damn, does a peanut butter and jelly sandwich really have that much value to THE black widow? Oh my Lord.”

Natasha almost wanted to hit Wanda in the head with her slices of bread. It was really tempting, she had to admit. The witch shot her a knowing look, most likely hearing her thoughts. Again, the Russian woman huffed. Her temper was really not her strongest suit. Especially not after provoking it.

“It has a decent amount of value, thank you. What do you want me to say? ‘Oh my God! I can’t live without a pbj sandwich! Help me!’ ?”, Natasha shot her a glare, sarcasm being her best suited form of selfdefense. She truly is a witty woman.

On the other side of the kitchen aisle, Wanda tried her best not to fall into a laughing fit. Never has she ever seen Natasha this distressed, this fuzzy. And then, after really considering who they were discussing, she sent her friend a knowing smirk:

“Are you really this cranky about two bread slices or is it because of your ‘definitely not crush’ ?”

Natasha stared at her, eyes blown in shock: she got caught. Again. She usually wouldn’t let someone else read her this easily, but since this is you they’re talking about, and it’s Wanda she’s talking to, there really is no reason to facade it. Still, she tries to deny: “I told you a hundred times, I don’t like her! I can’t even stand her. I mean, she empties the food. What am I supposed to eat now?” So wrong. Even Natasha knows her whole act of trying to hate and blame you for everything is not working and it’s just her best shot at ignoring the rising feelings she’s got for you. But could anybody blame her, really? When you were this excited, extremely beautiful, empathetic and shiny human being?

You entered the kitchen, unaware of the ongoing dispute. Hot on your heels, you scanned the room and reacted to Natashas last sentence: “Did Steve forget the groceries? Are you hungry?”

And just like that, after merely 5 seconds, Natasha dreaded holding a grudge. Her whole demeanor snapped (no pun intended) and her eyes gazed almost neutrally into your warm gaze: “Someone emptied the whole peanut butter jar. And now I can’t make my dinner.”

Surprisingly, you sent her a goofy smile: “Oh! That must have been me, I’m extremely sorry, Tasha. I do have another half of my pbj sandwich left though, I was about to refrigerate it.”, you held up your plate. She gave it a look and panicked internally: were you really about to share your meal? As if gathering her freight, you again sent her a toothy smile and handed her the leftover half. “Enjoy!”, was all you stated, leaving both women standing around the kitchen isle. Plus the pbj sandwich, which Natasha stared at for longer than necessary. The corners of her mouth started to form a smile, which after some contemplation she insisted on not following through.

Wanda, who encountered the whole interaction, had a huge smirk on her face.

Natasha on the other hand, without having to look at her friends face, mentally face palmed herself for always getting so stuck up around you.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything… but enjoy your meal.”, with that, Wanda left a flushed Natasha stood in the compound’s kitchen.

The widow took another look at your, no her, plate. And after a year, she still can’t wrap her head around it:

What was she going to do about you?

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female #the avengers #marvel #fanfic #sapphic #fluff #wanda maximoff

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gilverrwrites · 1 month ago

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Two Wrongs

Roy Harper/Reader, 1.1K words Kinktober entry 14: Voyeurism Warnings: (Accidental) Non-con voyeurism | Tight spaces Requested by: Authors choice

Watching your roommate getting off through a crack in his wardrobe door certainly wasn't how you’d planned to spend your evening, but it was just one of those situations, you know, like quicksand, once you're in, it becomes increasingly difficult to get back out.

It had all started months ago when he had eaten the last of your leftover pizza. You'd gotten him back by putting glitter in one of his caps. He'd retaliated by stealing ALL of your socks, so you'd tied all of his shoes together by their laces with the most complex knots you could find tutorials for online. The war had been raging ever since. Most recently, Roy had ‘you-proofed’ every drawer, cabinet, and door in the apartment with a bunch of contraptions of his own design. Many of which now lay broken in his scrap bin, destroyed by your impatience.

You'd been in the process of hiding a series of miniature Green Arrow figures around his bedroom when he’d unexpectedly arrived home early. With zero forethought, you'd simply thrown yourself into his closet and hoped he'd either leave or fall asleep soon. Neither were the case.

You watched through a seam in the hatch as Roy entered his room, your jaw falling slack when he'd immediately unzipped his cargo trousers and started palming his dick through his boxers upon closing the door.

He doesn't bother surveying his surroundings, why would he? This should be his safe space. As he approaches the bed, he kicks off his shoes and socks. You're treated to the sight of his captivatingly firm and freckled ass when he removed his bottoms before finally, he falls unceremoniously upon the bed, still donning his cap and tank top.

You shouldn’t look, you tell yourself. You absolutely should not look. This is a huge breach of trust, and you'd never intended to see Roy naked, at least not like this. Yet, a depraved curiosity possesses you.

It's big. Bigger than you’d imagined, but not intimidatingly so. More, mouth-wateringly so. Thick, cut, straight, and surrounded by a thicket of fiery red hair to match that on his head.

The whole scene is strangely hypnotic; his even, rhythmic strokes, the sordid slap of his spit-slicked hand meeting the base of his cock while he so casually scrolls through his phone. You could watch him all day, but you can't. This goes far beyond a prank, and it certainly isn't fair to him.

You're not brave enough to come clean, you've seen too much. So you gently lean away from the door, closing your eyes and trying to block out the raunchy sound of Roy's heavy breathing until it’s over. Hopefully, he’ll shower or fall asleep after and you can sneak out then.

You're not expecting to hear a voice, so your heart almost stops when you hear someone squeal his name. Shit. Had he called someone? Was he seeing someone? You're struck with a pang of jealousy until you realise the voice in question is your own.

“Ahh, Roy! Are you filming me?” It’s quiet, and tinny but there’s no doubt in your mind. You can even recall when he’d recorded it; Back in the early days of your prank battle, on a hot summer day. You'd been strewn out on the couch, half-asleep in a moderately skimpy outfit that you certainly hadn’t hoped would grab Roy’s attention when you'd noticed him hovering over you with his camera. At the time you’d just assumed it was ammo for some harmless joke. Evidently not.

Peeking through the door again, you watch once more as he continues to stroke his dick, freckled cheeks growing ruddy, jaw tight as he loses himself more and more, eyes fixate on his phone screen as he uses his thumb to repeatedly rewinds back to the first few seconds of the clip. “Ahh, Roy! Ar- Ahh, Roy! Are y- Ahh, Roy!”

The debauched symphony of Roy getting off to the sound of your voice has your body feeling feverish, and you have to fight the urge to grind your nails into the wooden panel that separates you from your housemate. You’re not sure which you want more, to stuff your hand between your legs and knead you’re aching sex in time with Roy’s thrusts, or to exit your hiding spot, climb his husky, tattooed body, and ride him until you’re both completely and utterly fucked. Paralyzed by indecision, you instead watch him, restlessly motionless as he starts to lose control.

The phone falls from Roy’s hand as he bucks his way to the finish line, your name becoming a quiet, breathless prayer on his lips whilest he fucks into his hand from beneath. His eyes close, and he chews on his bottom lip, muscles growing tight until he finds his climax. You watch spellbound as an obscene amount of thick, white cum leaks from his cock, dripping down onto his hand. Wilder, stray droplets launch high, landing on his shirt but Roy neither cares nor notices as he writhes deeper into the mattress, riding out a full body high until he has nothing left to give.

You’re just as fascinated, watching him lay near motionless, enjoying the aftershock, as you had been observing the climax. There had always been tension between the two of you, but you’re starting to realise that you might be down worse than you’d thought.

Eventually, Roy returns to the land of the living, slowly shifting back up. With his clean hand, he removes his cap and pulls his soiled shirt over his head, using it to mop up the mess he’d made of himself and throwing it out of your limited line of sight. Whatever he was aiming for, you don’t doubt he made the shot.

Though you’re disappointed that the show is over, you’re growing angsty at being confined to the four walls of his closet, so when he kicks his legs over the side of the bed you get excited. The prospect of escape is so close you can taste it, until he grabs his phone once more. If he goes down a rabbit hole, you could be stuck here for hours you think, as he taps away at the touchscreen. You’re about to slink back against the wall and try to get comfortable when you’re heart drops. You feel it first, the buzz in your back pocket followed by the custom ringtone Roy had picked out for himself. Instinctively, your arms fumble to grab your phone and turn it off but Roy’s head has already snapped in your direction, his face looking as pale and as panicked as you feel on the inside.

If you're reading this, you have impeccable taste.

Kinktober Masterlist

#roy harper/reader #roy harper x reader #roy harper #arsenal/reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal #gilverrwrites #kinktober #gn reader #tw voyeurism #tw claustrophobia

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upsidedownwithsteve · 8 months ago

Note

eye-rolling "Well, I guess I can do that for you."

pretty please with Steve? 🥰🥰

You weren’t Steve’s girlfriend, not at all. In fact, the man hadn’t even managed to take you on a date. Not yet.

But Steve was pretty damn sure he was borderline besotted with you. Affection made him ache, the longing worse. He felt like a teenager again, a schoolboy with a soul shattering crush that he wasn’t sure he could hide much longer…

…from you, anyway. Everyone else knew.

Which is why Nancy grinned and Eddie laughed into his beer when you found him at the party, a small get together with some old high school friends that had turned into someone bigger and messier as more people returned home to Hawkins for the holidays.

Steve had been watching you move around the room for a while, sandwiched between the sofa arm and Robin, gaze watching the way you hugged each old friend, your eyes bright with excitement, your touch warm and affectionate as you hugged everyone you’d missed.

Steve didn’t even really have time to feel jealous before you were leaning over the back of the couch, your chin on Steve’s shoulder, your perfume familiar and heart racing. You were grinning when you stole his beer bottle with light fingers, non pleased as you brought it to your lips to steal a swig, uncaring that it was borderline warm from the way Steve had nursed it all night.

You didn’t notice the way Jonathan snickered at Steve’s expression, the way Eddie smirked and Robin nudged Steve’s ribs with a bony elbow. You couldn’t see how the poor man had turned pink, face flushed and chest almost still as you leaned closer, your cheek almost touching his.

And then you turned into him, lips so close to his, your nose nudging his temple as the cheap wine you’d been drinking made you bolder, less caring of your audience.

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve didn’t dare turn his head with you this close. He didn’t need his friends to witness him short circuit. He knew you’d be close, closer than ever, close enough to count the fan of your lashes, the flecks of different colours in your eyes, the tiny silver scar on your chin that you got when you were six.

So he hummed instead, taking his beer back from your hand and downing a long drag. He could barely taste the bitterness of it over the leftover stain of your cherry lip balm. It’s like he’d forgotten how to breathe—

“I was wondering, if it’s not too much hassle,” your hand found his shoulder, warm and familiar and affection as it slipped over the front of his chest, playing with his collar. “If you’re still taking Robin home, could you drop me off on the way?”

Steve took too long to reply, the feeling of your small hand against his chest too much for him to comprehend and Eddie was sitting across from his, his grin absolutely wild and Robin’s heel was grinding down on top of his trainers, urging him to answer.

“I—”

“It’s just,” you went onto explain, taking his overwhelmed silence for apprehension, “I was supposed to crash at Jenny’s but she’s going home with Chris now and I don’t really wanna walk, y’know?”

Eddie butted in then, all cheek and charm and Steve wanted to throttle him. He was still grinning, too wide and knowing, and he knocked his boot against Steve’s shin. He tsked, frowning exaggeratedly. “Hey now,” he told you, “Harrington won’t have you walkin’ anywhere, isn’t that right Steve? He’d love to give you a ride.”

Robin almost spat her drink out, waving you away when you looked at her concerned, coughing furiously into her fist and Steve was done.

He gave in then and turned, silently thankful that you moved back just a little, your eyes warm as he met your gaze and you grinned at the sight of him, like you’d missed him as much as he had you.

Fuck, you were pretty. So, so pretty.

And Steve didn’t know what to do. So he did what he always done and played his part, that character that he had in his back pocket from high school, the one he’d learned to tone down just a little and use as a shield. So he rolled his eyes but it only made you grin wider because fucking hell, you could see right through him and Steve knew that.

It’s why you kept your hand on his chest, your arm draped over his shoulder, touching him like he belonged to you and god— he did, he did, he did.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Steve pretended to consider it. “I can do that for you.”

You tilted your head at him, all quiet flirtation, coy and knowing and your fingertips ran up his chest and over the neckline of his shirt until you were touching bare skin- just for a second.

It was enough to make Steve’s brain buzz, full shutdown, engine screeching, loading screen frozen.

“For me?” You pouted.

You were still too close and your lips were glossy and Steve knew they tasted like cherry. All his friends were staring.

“Yeah,” he nodded, throat dry, eyes on your mouth and the way it curled into a smile. The act was over, his play pretend crumbling. He was too soft for you to try and keep it up for very long. “For you.”

And when you thanked him with a too quick press of your lips to his cheek and then disappeared into the crowd again, his friends waited all of six seconds before they exploded.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot #Steve baby blurb

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cold-kitty · 8 months ago

Text

Remember the Yandere Neuvillette fic? Well you know that one meme that goes like "I have two sides"? That's how I am with Neuvillette. On one hand, I like to think of him as the sweet goober that was in that fic. On the other hand? Well...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Contains: NSFW (not with darling), murder (not darling), Neuvillette is quite literally insane, Neuvillette is slightly rough with darling (not sexually), abuse of power, mentions of kidnapping, stealing darlings things, Neuvillette has masochistic tendencies

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yan!Neuvillette who hires you as an assistant. you tidy up a bit, bring him things he needs, just normal things.

Yan!Neuvillette who stares at you, stares. he only works half of the day, the rest of that time is spent staring at you.

Yan!Neuvillette who will invite you to lunch everyday, insisting that he pays even though you want to. oh don't worry, it's not like it's a date. even though it should be...

Yan!Neuvillette who will steal your used napkins, spoons/forks/chopsticks, leftovers, anything that you've touched or put your mouth on.

Yan!Neuvillette who takes those things home with him, swiping the saliva off of them and is immediately tugging down his pants.

Yan!Neuvillette who is definitely physical with you. hugs, patting your head, hooking your arm in his, standing a little too close to you, etc.. but he's very insistent with it, and he doesn't care if you turn down the offer, it only makes him squeeze you harder than usual (which is abnormally hard for someone who's supposed to be platonic with you).

Yan!Neuvillette definitely swipes some of your clothes, gaslighting you that you didn't wear it. gloves? no silly, you didn't wear any.

Yan!Neuvillette who also finds the cologne you use, spraying it on all over his room, especially his pillow.

Yan!Neuvillette is a pillow fucker 100%, his pillow is constantly nestled between his plush thighs as his hips move feverishly against it.

Yan!Neuvillette who talks to his pillow, pretending it's you. begging it, whining with it, holding it as if it were a person. p-please love- ngh... please please please i wanna cum, please- darling please l-let me- hah- cum...

Yan!Neuvillette who has fantasies of you randomly bending him over his desk, ripping his clothes apart and absolutely ravaging him.

Yan!Neuvillette who has a certain ache for pain with you. slap him, kick him, hit him, bite him, strangle him, he'd even let you cut him for Christ's sake. make him bleed and cry, bruise him and make him sore. anything that you do is ecstasy for him, and he would love you to have power over him like that.

Yan!Neuvillette who goes batshit feral when you're affectionate with someone. teeth gritted, body twitching, eyes wide with rage, but he would never ever do anything to hurt you, so he simply slits the persons throat.

Yan!Neuvillette who will quite literally tweak the law just so he can have an advantage, making loopholes so he can legally kidnap you. the government doesn't even need to know, he'll just change it whenever he wants.

Yan!Neuvillette who will stop at absolutely nothing to have you, he'll kidnap you, blackmail you, threaten people you love, anything.

Yan!Neuvillette who - if pushed to this point - will accuse you of a crime and label you guilty, sentencing you to 'behavior correction' with him for the next year.

Yan!Neuvillette who really, really doesn't like the look on your face when he takes you to his home, as much as he likes having power over you, it makes him feel sick. you're crying, begging him to understand that you haven't done anything wrong, that you were framed.

Yan!Neuvillette who won't hurt you unless you try to run away, and even then it's only a few smacks on the back with a wooden paddle. he hates your tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are only two Yandere Neuvillette's (in my opinion), the sweet baby from the first fic, and whatever rabies infested rat this is.

~🐈‍⬛

#yandere smut #yandere x reader #yandere x male darling #yandere x you #yandere #male yandere #yandere neuvillette

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phregnancy · 3 months ago

Text

i saw someone say they blanked on coming up with tit preshow questions so here are 40 questions i would ask that you can take

- does phil consume cannabis in any form for his migraines

- list three book recommendations

- will sister philip made an appearance for halloween this year

- will phil try a slutty halloween costume from spirit halloween

- if you had to change your height, what height would you be

- who bought the precious baby angel shirts

- can phil walk us through his philognese cooking process

- are you ordering deliveroo multiple times a day or do you get enough for leftovers

- what was dan’s clumsiest moment recently

- phil what are your favorite musicians/bands that aren’t muse

- dan what was the last song you learned to play on piano

- what is one aspect of your personality that you feel has changed the most over the last fifteen years

- phil once said he knows how to make salad, what does he put in his salads

- what is your least favorite liquor

- what was the most sentimental gift you’ve received recently

- has phil hurt himself since the rib breakage

- dan have you taken any color blindness tests since hearing about this theory

- phil shares little linguist facts every now and then, dan, is there anything you learned in university that’s worth sharing

- when was the last time you cried and what prompted it

- fmk: chappell roan, janelle monáe, kehlani

- who is your favorite character from scott pilgrim, and you can’t pick wallace

- what bingeworthy tv series have you watched recently

- if you couldn’t get a corgi or a shibe, what type of dog would you get

- how would you cope with going bald

- if you could each change one thing about each other what would it be

- has phil gotten more comfortable around babies since becoming a guncle

- what are your most embarrassing food moments (public spillage, being caught eating something you shouldn’t, etc)

- can’t be career related, what is one thing you both are looking forward to

- what studio ghibli character do you most relate to

- what is something not many people know about you / would assume about you

- what is your favorite quality in the other person

- has phil always been a gentle princess or is this a phlonde-era development

- when eating cereal, do you prefer to use a tablespoon or a teaspoon

- if dan is concerned with phil stealing his cereal, why doesn’t he start buying two boxes

- phil have you had any interesting dreams lately

- if dan has to cook, what is his go-to meal

- where did you get your mario piranha bouquet from

- you two have gone to many award shows and events wearing two button suits, with both buttons buttoned. are you aware that you’re always supposed to leave the bottom button open

- any nailsinki plans? will phil get his nails painted this time?

- what do you like more about manchester than you do london

#amazingphil #phil lester #dan and phil #dan howell #phan #dnpgames #terrible influence tour #dnptit #tit preshow

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zepskies · 11 months ago

Note

Hi, how are you?

I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please

Hey, lovely!

I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.

Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.

When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.

But also cautious.

He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.

And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.

That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.

He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.

You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.

You're wonderfully weird.

And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.

Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.

You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.

Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.

He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...

And yet.

He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.

You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).

But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)

It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.

And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.

Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.

Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.

"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.

You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.

"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.

Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.

"They're cute," he adds.

You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.

"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.

"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"

He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.

"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.

"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy."

"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.

"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.

You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"

He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."

"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.

Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.

Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.

"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.

You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.

"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.

Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.

Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.

It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.

He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.

Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.

There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.

But it's you.

"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"

"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.

"Thanks," he says.

You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.

Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)

"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.

This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?

You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.

Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."

"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.

Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.

"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.

You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.

It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.

Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.

When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.

Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.

You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.

You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.

With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.

Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.

He finds that and more when he looks up at you.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.

"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.

You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."

Sam takes you at your word.

AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!

(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)

Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SW Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @tipthejar

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @violetlilysunshine @nic-kolas @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @malindacath @brujaporfavor @katherineann83 @torchbearerkyle

@sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @adoringanakin @sanscas @pap3rtigers @kaleldobrev @nix-rose

#Sam reads you wrong #Sam winchester imagine #Sam winchester x reader #Sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #angst #reader requests #ask me stuff #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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yan-lorkai · 5 months ago

Note

I’m quite new to this app so i’m sorry if i wrote this wrong :’) , but would it be possible to request:

Headcanons for Undertaker with a darling who is working at his shop while also having a crush on Undertaker, yet is completely oblivious to Undertaker wanting to court them too.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Hi darling! Yes, you did everything right. Don't right :). Hope you like this!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You always thought Undertaker was funny. He was playful yet always affectionate teased you, often making jokes or comments that made you laugh so hard, though you never seem to understand some things he said. He liked his parables and riddles. But for him, you are immensely funny and you often caught him smiling while he looks at you - it's because he is thinking how much time you'll need it to realize that his gestures and words have another meaning and bear his romantic feelings for you. Another day? Another week? Another month? He have time on his hands, he can wait.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He finds excuses to be around you, “accidentally” brushing his hand against yours or standing just a bit too close. Often, he brings you treats or gifts, claiming they are leftovers or things he just happened to come across, though he goes out of his way to find things that will make you smile. And he is delighted whenever you let him feed you your food. He even lick his fingers after while maintaining eye contact.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He is very protective, insisting on walking you home or ensuring your safety, especially if you stay late at the shop. He often steals glances at you when you are busy helping someone chosing a coffin to bury their loved one or with the bureaucracy, a soft smile playing on his lips as he appreciates your dedication at your work. His compliments are cryptic or humorous, leaving you confused sometimes but always flattered.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Undertaker invites you to assist in his intricate experiments, using it as an excuse to spend more time together and share details he wouldn’t with anyone else. He gets a bit jealous if you talk about or interact too much with others, making dark jokes or snide comments, quickly covering them up with a laugh or two. He loves telling you embellished stories from his past, hoping to share pieces of his heart and hint at his affection, even if he doesn't downright admit he is a grim reaper to you. Not yet. Maybe he'll tell you in the future.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Whenever he has the chance, he lets his touch linger a bit longer than necessary, cherishing these small moments of contact. Your skin is so warm and soft, so human and he loves it. Though entertaining as it is, Undertaker really wants you to understand and realize everything he has been trying to convey. He can only wait for so long before taking things into his own hands.

#yandere undertaker #yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #black butler undertaker #kuroshitsuji undertaker #undertaker x you #undertaker x reader #undertaker #yandere undertaker x you #yandere undertaker x y/n #yandere undertaker x reader #undertaker x y/n #lorkai headcanon

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iamnotoriginalphil · 1 year ago

Text

A Helping Hand (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You accidentally drag Melissa into a ruse in order to stop your friends from setting you up on any more blind dates

Words: 7.2k

Warnings: some self esteem issues, mentions of an age gap

“Trust me. This time I’ve found you the perfect date,” Carter said, pulling up outside Abbott.

“Not necessary,” you replied.

The last perfect date he’d set you up on had been a disaster. Not that you’d particularly wanted to go on the date to begin with. Your friends kept trying to solve your perpetual singledom, but what you hadn’t told them was you were holding out while working up the courage to ask out the one person you really wanted to.

“Why?” he asked, turning to look at you.

“Because…” You were about to regret the words that came out of your mouth, “I’m already seeing someone.”

“Who?” he asked, leaning towards you.

A loud banging came from the window. You jumped, turning to look behind you. Red hair shone in the morning sunlight and green eyes were peering in, looking less than pleased.

“Oi, you coming? The news will be on soon,” Melissa called through the glass at you.

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” you called back.

When you turned back around, Carter’s eyes had widened, flicking from you to her back to you. You froze.

“Is that her?” he asked.

“What?” you scoffed, “no. Look, I have to go.”

His hand shot you, grabbing your wrist.

“That’s who you’re seeing?” he demanded.

“Fine. It’s her. But it’s really new so don’t… tell anyone,” you whispered, “please don’t make a big deal about this.”

“She’s hot,” he said, looking over your shoulder.

You turned too. Melissa was still there, arms crossed, scowling at the car. You sighed, turning back to Carter.

“I have to go. But don’t you dare mention this to anyone. I don’t need you lot messing this up before it’s even something,” you hissed at him.

“Sure, sure,” he said, gently ruffling your hair, “go see your girl.”

You sighed, stepping out of the car. You slammed the car door shut with a little more aggression than you usually would use but you were tired and you didn’t even realise the can of worms you’d opened with a little white lie.

“You okay?” Melissa asked, falling into step beside you.

A car horn sounded behind you. You glared over your shoulder at Carter who was grinning at you.

“Fine,” you said, “just dickhead friends.”

The news helped calm you down and by lunch you’d forgotten all about your lie to Carter. Sitting by her at lunch, you were reminded of the way she made your heart beat faster and your breath catch. Her voice was enough to steal your attention and the way she’d laugh enchanted you. You’d do anything to make her laugh like that.

“Hey, is there something wrong with your car?” she asked, leaning back to talk to you at the table next to hers.

“It’s in the shop,” you replied, “the engine was making a funky noise and it got so loud I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

“Who was that in the car that made you so mad?” she asked.

“Just my friend Carter. Apparently I’m now a charity case that my friends have put on a roster of car pooling,” you said.

The way she looked at you had you shifting in your seat.

“What?” you asked.

“You ain’t a charity case,” she said.

“Okay.” You weren’t sure what she was trying to say.

She nodded , turning back to her lunch. Nothing had made sense, and you still had no idea what she was getting at but the conversation was closed. You nodded to yourself, biting into the leftovers you’d been eating before.

After school, a significant amount of time after the dismissal bell had rung, you stepped out into the evening air, tightening your coat around your body. Carter lent forward on the horn, grinning at you as you hurried down the steps.

“Yeah yeah,” you muttered, sliding into the car.

“Isn’t that your girlfriend?”

You blinked, trying to figure out what he was talking about. You turned, finding Melissa striding towards the car, looking ready to breathe fire. It crashed back into you, the lie you’d told and how fucked you were about to be. She tore the door open.

“Come on,” she said to you.

“What?” You were looking up at her and she was staring down at you and it was like the world was dropping out beneath you.

“Come on.”

She grabbed your arm, hauling you out of the car. You barely had time to grab your bag from the floor mat. She lent forward, looking in at Carter as if he’d done something to personally offend her. That wasn’t something anyone would dare to do at Abbott.

“She won’t be needing your charity anymore,” she said before slamming the door.

Her hand curled around your elbow, marching you off towards one of the last cars left in the lot. She wasn’t explaining anything. Carter wasn’t leaving. Nothing made sense.

“Melissa, what are you doing?” you asked as she stopped to unlock the car.

“You’re no one’s charity case,” she said, “I can give you a lift.”

“So, what? I go from being my friends’ charity case to yours? I don’t see how this changes anything,” you said.

She pulled the door open for you, waiting with an expectant eyebrow raised. You sighed, taking your spot in her passenger seat. In the reflection of her rearview mirror you saw Carter approach, groaning at whatever was about to happen. They talked, Melissa’s eyes finding yours in the mirror before saying something to Carter.

She was looking at you oddly as she slid into the driver’s seat some minutes later. You were desperate to know what had been said, knowing it wouldn’t be good for you.

“Your friend asked me to come to a barbecue this weekend,” she said, staring the car, “as your new girlfriend.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. She dragged one away from you, forcing you to look at her. She hadn’t pulled out of her spot, sitting there in the idling car while you tried to tamp down your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” you said, slightly muffled from the one hand still doing its best to hide you from view.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

“I just.” You sighed, “my friends keep setting me up on blind dates and no matter how often I tell them I’m not interested they keep doing it. So when Carter suggested I go on another one I told him I couldn’t because I’m already seeing someone and then you turned up. He asked if it was you and I… figured he’d never actually meet you so it didn’t matter. I’m sorry, I’ll tell him I lied to get him off my back.”

She pulled out of the parking lot, still not looking at you. Guilt curdled in your stomach and you didn’t know what else to say. Your head hung and you weren’t sure what to do. Maybe apologise more. Grovel for forgiveness. Melissa was not a woman to be caught up in bullshit she didn’t agree to and you’d done just that.

“I said I’d bring mac and cheese,” she said.

Your head snapped up. She still wasn’t looking at you, focusing on the road ahead, which given the driving was a good thing. Her lips curled up and you felt your cheeks heat.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, voice small, fingers twisting in your lap.

“Do you want to go on more blind dates?” she asked.

“Not even a little bit,” you replied.

Her eyes flashed over to you then back to the road.

“You better tell me your address or you’ll never get home,” she said.

You directed her to your apartment building, not sure what else to say. She pulled up to the curb, looking up at it with a small wrinkle to her nose. Her approval was clearly lacking and that made your stomach twist again.

“Seriously Melissa,” you said as the silence stretched, “you don’t have to do this. I’ll just tell him.”

“What time should I pick you up tomorrow?” she asked.

And that was the last you talked of coming clean to your friends. She picked you up for the rest of the week as you waited for your car to be fixed, and dropped you off each night. And on Saturday, the day your friend Jenny was hosting a barbecue for Jared’s birthday, she knocked on your door rather than just sending you a one word text to get your attention.

“Hi,” you breathed out, seeing her there on the other side of your door.

Her hair was tied up, jeans and a tank top encasing her body. Casual Melissa was so very delicious, and for the afternoon she was going to be yours. It made no sense. None at all.

“How long do you think this thing’s gonna be?” she asked, pushing past into your apartment.

You followed her, watching her look over the room, eyes lingering on photos and little keepsakes. She picked up one frame, a small smile curling her lips before her expression was wiped clean.

“We don’t have to stay long,” you said, “whenever you want to go feel free to.”

“I’d never leave my girl alone,” she replied, placing the frame down again.

“Right. And I am sorry about this. Really.” You hoped she could hear the earnestness in your voice.

“Stop.” She held a hand up to you, “I’m doing this, aren’t I? If you keep apologising I’m gonna think you don’t want me to.”

“You’re being very kind,” you said, “thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, hon,” she said, “you’re my good deed for the month.”

You gave a weak laugh, picking up your container of watermelon and the cake you’d spent the previous night baking. She took them from your hands before you could ask for help. Locking the door behind you, keeping your face averted, you refused to let her see the impulse to swoon. In less than a week she’d treated you better than past girlfriends ever had.

You settled in the passenger seat, the cake resting on your lap, the wrapped present at your feet. Melissa merged into traffic, taking you closer to the party. You could feel your anxiety rising, not sure how this was going to go. Your friends and Melissa together in the same room, one believing she was your new girlfriend, the other pretending in order to help you… do what? Save face? Not go on any more awful blind dates? Use as blackmail material later down the road?

“I can hear you thinking,” she said, flicking on her indicator.

“Sorry,” you said.

“I’m not gonna give the game away,” she said, “stop worrying.”

“I just… I know you won’t,” you replied.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Why are you doing this? I’m not Barbra, you don’t… we’re not friends like that,” you said.

“Aren’t we?” She turned her head slightly, not quite towards you but not away from you.

“Are we?” You didn’t know that answer.

“Just accept the help, hon,” she sighed, and you didn’t know what the emotion in her voice was.

“Thanks Melissa,” you whispered.

She pulled up outside Jenny’s house, the balloons tied to the letterbox swaying in the air. You looked up at it, your anxiety spiking again. A warm hand landed on your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze.

“C’mon, hon,” Melissa said, “the sooner we go in the sooner you’ll see it’s all fine.”

“Right. Yeah. You’re right,” you said.

She didn’t hold your hand as you walked up to the door, nor did she try to touch you in any intentional way. She stood close enough for you to feel her warmth, but not so close that she was crowding you.

“Ready?” you asked.

Instead of answering, she adjusted her hold on both the mac and cheese she brought and the food you’d made and lent past you, knocking on the door. It took only a moment before the door was pulled open. Jenny was laughing at someone over her shoulder, before turning to look at you.

“Hey,” she said, pulling you into a hug.

You went, still feeling tense. Her eyes turned towards Melissa, interest entering her gaze. They swept over her before turning back to you.

“Is this her?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. Jenny this is Melissa,” you said, turning to her, “Mel, this is my friend Jenny.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Jenny said.

“Yeah, you too. Where can I put this?” she asked, holding the food out to her.

“Oh, the kitchen is this way,” she said, turning on her heels to stride back into the house.

You shared a glance with Melissa before following Jenny inside. She helped Melissa place the containers of food down, looking out of the open door pointed at the backyard. Your friends were gathered, most already with some kind of drink in hand, Carter behind the grill, ominous smoke rising into the sky. Music was playing faintly and there were balloons all over the place.

“You work at Abbott too, right?” Jenny asked.

“Ya,” Melissa said and you realised that involving someone with severe trust issues of anyone she didn’t know was maybe not the best idea.

“She teaches second grade,” you said, “one of the best teachers we have.”

Her head snapped towards you, something unreadable crossing over her face before disappearing. Jenny was watching with interest and you knew you had to do better if you wanted your friends to think you weren’t perpetually single.

“Where’s Jared?” you asked, hoping to distract her from whatever was going on with you and Melissa.

“Outside,” she said, “so Melissa-“

You grabbed Melissa’s arm, tugging her towards the door before Jenny could say anything else. Out of her sight, you let her arm go, stepping down onto the grass. The air smelt of smoke and grass and summer, of days long since gone and days yet to come. You took a deep breath.

“Hey,” Carter said, jogging up to you.

“Hi,” you said, “I brought Melissa.”

“Great to see you again.” He was grinning at the two of you.

You rolled your eyes, shoving past him. Melissa followed you, right on the periphery of your vision, there but not close. Maybe that was a problem. If you were newly in a relationship would there be that much distance between you? Could you reach out and bridge the gap? You weren’t sure you could.

“Hey Jared, happy birthday.”

You thrust out the present in your hands to your friend. Tall and handsome, his charisma had meant he’d done well in life and love. In comparison, you were a hot mess. And yet growing up in neighbouring houses meant you had a friend for life it seemed.

“Thanks,” he said, a lazy smile spreading over his face, “is this the woman who’s finally taken you off the market?”

“This is Melissa,” you said, turning to look at her.

Her green eyes were narrowed and she’d crossed her arms, looking less than friendly. You sighed. You might have seen the softer side of Melissa Schemmenti but she was hardly showcasing it with your friends.

“Congrats on finally being good enough with this one,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “she’s a picky one.”

“Is she?” she raised an eyebrow.

“She has turned down every single person we’ve set her up with for three years,” he said.

“Has she?” She was looking at you with too much interest.

Hopefully she wasn’t putting two and two together. Three years ago you’d started working at Abbott and for three years all your dates were with people who weren’t her. You felt your cheeks heat up and you looked away.

“Glad to see someone broke the curse,” Jared laughed, letting you go, “get drinks. We have all kinds of stuff.”

You wandered off, waving to your friends, Melissa keeping step with you. The cooler was full of ice, drinks nestled inside. You reached down, passing her one of the bottles of beer before taking a soda for yourself. It shouldn’t have been hot watching her open the bottle, but it wasn’t often someone could do it without a bottle opener.

“Three years huh?” she asked after taking a drink from the bottle.

“My friends mean well but they have no idea what I’m looking for in a partner,” you replied with a small shrug.

“That’s a long time to not have one good date,” she said.

You shrugged again, not sure what to say. You weren’t about to admit the real reason was standing in front of you. You weren’t delusional enough to think she’d appreciate it or, god forbid, return your feelings. She could do better than you.

“Holy shit, y’all have to try this mac and cheese,” Henry called out, “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Melissa looked towards them. You chuckled, looking down at your feet scuffing in the grass.

“What?” she asked.

“They’re never going to want to get rid of you now,” you said, “damn you and you’re mouth watering cooking.”

“My what?”

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. She raised her own in response, waiting for an answer.

“Oh come on. You know you’re crazy good at cooking. You brag about it at least three times a week over lunch,” you said, “modesty isn’t a good look on you.”

She laughed, the kind that you desired to hear over and over again. Head thrown back, lips curling up into a beautiful smile, you stared at her doing your best not to have your feelings show all over your face. She nudged you with her shoulder, the laughter dying but her eyes sparkling.

“Jenny said you made this.”

Henry was there, holding the plate of mac and cheese, cheeks bulging from how much he’d put in his mouth. You snorted but you knew what was coming.

“If you break up with her,” he said, turning to you, “we’re taking her side.”

You snorted, “yeah, good luck with that.”

“Seriously,” he said, turning back to Melissa, “how do you do it? This is like the perfect consistency. And the flavour profile is off the charts. Do you do catering?”

“She’s a teacher, Henry. Chill out,” you said, “and I know for a fact Caroline won’t want mac and cheese at the reception. They’re getting married next year.”

That last part was for Melissa. She was growing more incredulous as the conversation continued. She stepped just half a step closer to you, her body warmth once again brushing against you. A small sigh left your lips, shoulders relaxing just a touch more.

“You ain’t getting my secret ingredient,” Melissa said, “but I’m sure I could be convinced to make it again for youse one day.”

“Convince her,” Henry said to you.

You watched him walk away, slapping Jenny’s hand away when she tried to steal some of it.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” you said, turning to look at her.

“Do what?” she asked.

“Pretend like you’re going to be around forever,” you replied, “you never have to come to another one of these things.”

“Hon, let me decide if I’ll be back. You just worry your pretty little head about having a fun time with your friends,” she said.

Warmth bloomed in your chest. Her hand slid into yours, palm brushing against palm until her fingers tangled with yours. Your heart skipped a beat, the touch of skin against skin making you feel breathless. Her smile softened, hand tightening.

“Go have fun, sweetheart,” she said, gently pushing you towards the group gathering close by.

You kept half an eye on her as you joined your friends, tracking her movements through the afternoon. She mostly kept close to the grill, and after a few false starts, seemed to charm your friends. Watching her, it only cemented that you’d made the right choice on having a crush on her, as if you’d have any chance not to.

“I like her,” Jenny said, “and you obviously do too.”

She nudged you and Jared laughed.

“Well, yeah, I’m dating her,” you said, doing your best not to trip on the word.

“And you look at her like she’s even better than her mac and cheese,” Jared said.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“You’re the definition of heart eyes,” she said, “when you look at her you get all melty and soft.”

“I do not,” you protested.

“You so do,” she laughed, “you get that dopey smile whenever you look at her.”

“And you look at her a lot,” Jared said.

You didn’t know how to refute the claim without giving the whole game away. You sighed, eyes flicking up, as they had all day, to find Melissa. She was already watching you, those green eyes shining when they met yours.

“See? That’s the expression,” Jenny crowed.

“Lucky for you, short stack,” Jared said, resting his arm around your shoulders, “she seems just as besotted with you.”

Now that was going a step too far.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Be nice,” you said, ducking out from under his arm.

Inside the house, away from the prying questions and and knowing looks, you could breath easier. You locked yourself away in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror over the sink. Your fingers clenched, thoughts racing. On the one hand it was good that you were selling the lie to your friends, on the other you hadn’t meant to show your actual feelings and didn’t want it getting back to Melissa. She’d know. Of course she’d know.

Cold water splashed up on your face and you put your game face back on. If you could keep it under wraps during school hours you could keep it under wraps now. You patted your face dry and slipped back into the house proper.

“So what’s your intentions with our girl?”

You paused just out of sight, listening in. Your friends, bless their hearts, were doing their whole Spanish Inquisition act and you couldn’t pretend like you weren’t interested in seeing how she smacked them down. There was no doubt in your mind she wouldn’t put up with their inane questions.

“I want to make her happy,” she replied and you could see the way she would be shooting them a look telling them how idiotic she found the question. As if her answer was obvious.

“Good answer,” Henry said.

“Could be practiced,” Jared said.

“Rehearsed even,” Carter said.

“Why her?” Jenny asked.

“What?” You could hear the offence settling into her voice.

“Why choose her?” Jenny asked, “and be careful. There is a right answer.”

You internally groaned, leaning against the wall. More than once someone had decided you weren’t worth it after going through this process. That the scrutiny wasn’t worth it. Melissa had to bring her A game if she was going to get through it.

“Why wouldn’t I choose her?” Melissa asked.

“She works too much,” Henry said.

“She eats too much sugar,” Jared said.

“She’s a mess,” Carter said.

“So why her?” Jenny asked.

“You say she works too much. I say she’s passionate. I haven’t seen such a talented young teacher in a long time. And yes, she eats like a kid with too much money let loose in a candy store. But she’ll share it with anyone she thinks needs it to the point where she’ll go without. And she’s not a mess. She’s doing the best she can and she’s doing it pretty damn well. I don’t know if youse don’t see her clearly enough but if that’s the only way you see her then it’s pathetic that youse call yourself her friends. I ain’t never seen someone who makes life brighter than she does. She is kind and talented and she cares so much it’s made her physically sick before. If youse think there is any reason I wouldn’t choose her, you’re wrong. So don’t give me stupid excuses to not want her. It won’t work. I’ve been choosing her longer than you know.”

It felt as if your knees were going to give out beneath you. You trembled, pressing back against the wall, doing your best to not slide down it. Your breathing, where you’d been holding it to listen to her, was now ragged. You had to pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, forcing yourself to push the tears back.

No one had ever said anything like that about you before.

“You didn’t even mention how hot she is,” Jared said.

You pressed your hand to your lips to keep the wet laugh from making a sound.

“Her being hot is just an extra benefit. I’m not with her because she’s hot. I’m with her because she’s the sun,” Melissa said, scoffing at your friend.

Your mouth fell open. You had no idea Melissa could have been so poetic, especially without giving her a heads up that this might happen. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest and you had no idea how you were going to face her now. You ached, deep within you, to reach out to her, to press yourself to her, to bury your face in her neck until you weren’t sure where you ended and she began. Curling your arms around your body, you held on, desperate to keep yourself from falling apart.

“Good enough for ya?” Melissa asked into the silence left behind in the wake of her words.

There was a general grumbled agreement before footsteps began to sound again. You wiped the vulnerable skin under your eyes, brushing away the tears. You steeled yourself, straightening your spine, clenching your jaw. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the kitchen again.

“There you are,” Jenny called, sticking candles into the cake you’d made for Jared.

Melissa was still there, looking out the door into the backyard. You sidled up to her, shoulder brushing against shoulder. She looked down at you and you couldn’t begin to unpack the expression on her face.

“You okay?” You asked, lowering your voice to keep Jenny from hearing.

“Perfect, hon,” she replied.

Her arm curled around your waist, so warm, making you only want to press yourself against her more. Your head fell on her shoulder, resting there, scared it would be too much for her and yet not able to stop yourself from seeking out her touch.

“Come on, you two,” Jenny said, “we got cake to eat.”

Melissa’s hand slid back into yours, and as you sang happy birthday to your friend, you felt your heart in your throat and your body yearning for her. As Jared lent forward to blow out the candles, she looked down at you, smiling softly, eyes sparkling down at you. You found yourself leaning towards her, drawn in by her gravity. She let your hand go, arm sliding around your waist, hand now resting on your hip, burning through the denim of your jeans. Your breath hitched and her eyes flicked down to your lips, her own pulling up in a small smirk.

You had no idea what to do with the way she was looking at you.

“Melissa,” Jenny said, stealing her attention, breaking whatever spell was woven over the two of you, “have you had any of our girl’s baking yet?”

“I made her a tiramisu for her last birthday,” you called to her.

“You made that? Shit, hon, I thought you’d bought it,” she said.

Had you revealed too much? No. No, you couldn’t have.

“Course I made it,” you replied with a small shrug, “no big deal.”

Something in her softened.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Her lips pressed to your temple, soft and addictive and your breath caught in your chest. Your skin tingled with electricity and if you could bottle a single moment of your life it would be that one to revisit any time you wanted. It would feed you for the rest of your life.

There was a collective aw from your friends. Your cheeks heated and you had to look away, scared they’d see too much. That Melissa would see too much. Her arm tightened around you and you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Do you want some cake?” Melissa asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, cheeks still hot enough to fry an egg on.

You took a slice from Jenny, waiting to see Melissa’s reaction before taking your own bite. Her eyes slid closed and she made a noise so filthy you thought you were going to have a heart attack. It sent a shot of pleasure right between your legs and you felt your eyes widened as you looked at her. Her eyes blinked open, hooded and seductive, and you had to swallow past the lump in your throat.

“I’m going to marry you just to have access to this cake for the rest of my life,” she said, voice husky.

You laughed, a little uncomfortable even while the thought was pleasant. Being Melissa Schemmenti’s wife. It was one of those fantasies you tried not to indulge in too much. You shoved a forkful of your own cake into your mouth to keep from saying anything stupid in response.

“I wanna open presents,” Jared whined, mouth half full of cake.

Jenny laughed, shoving him over to the table of nicely wrapped gifts. He tore through wrapping paper, uncaring of the mess he was making. Melissa was still holding you, but was focused on him, no longer making you feel as if you were about to faint from the pressure of her gaze. Your head lent against her shoulder again, watching Jared holding up the awful sweatshirt you’d bought him with the president’s face on it. He was grinning at you before pulling it on despite the warmth and the sun.

“I look so hot,” he said, looking down at himself.

“You look sweaty,” Harry said, shoving at him.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you wish you had this sweet piece of ass,” he replied.

“I’ll keep my own piece of ass thank you,” he said, “she at least knows how to shower.”

“How about we don’t call women pieces of ass?” Jenny suggested.

“Sorry, Jen,” he said, “but you know what I mean.”

“And I hate it,” she said.

You laughed, pressing your face into Melissa’s shoulder to muffle it. You felt her nose brush against your temple, her own chuckle soft. Warmth bloomed through your chest, embers of fire floating through your bloodstream. You pressed more to her, hoping it would stop you from doing something stupid, like press your lips to the skin under your face. Her lips brushed your temple and you felt yourself freeze.

Cold water splashed against your stomach. You shriek, flinging yourself out of Melissa’s arms. Jared had levelled a water gun at you, huge and intimidating, the box it had come from lying at his feet. He lifted it and you ran backwards, cursing at him as you took refuge in the kitchen. Melissa was following you, looking no more like she wanted to be soaked than you did. But still, you were laughing as you looked out the window at them, the shiver of your wet shirt barely noticed while you watched the boys battling it out in the grass.

“You alright, hon?” Melissa asked.

You looked over, finding her leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes travelling over your body. Your cheeks heated again.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“You’re going to get sick if you stay in those wet clothes,” she said and you knew she didn’t mean it to sound like such an invitation.

“I’ll be fine,” you brushed off, turning away to keep her from seeing the moment of longing on your face.

Warm hands settled on your hips, pulling you back against a soft body and all thoughts fled from your head. You lent back against her, unconscious of your actions and yet desperate for it. Her breath ghosted against the shell of your ear.

“Let me take you home to change,” she said, “Ava doesn’t have the money for a sub if you get a cold.”

Of course. Of course it was about work. Even if a shiver went down your spine and a whimper threatened fall from your lips. You’d never felt such a deep well of want for another person before.

“Okay,” you whispered.

She gave your hips a squeeze before letting you go, stepping back. Thoughts flooded back in, the throb between your legs making you feel shaky. You tottered over to the door.

“Hey, assholes, we’re heading off,” you called to the boys, Jenny standing by the door as if daring the boys to try and soak her.

The chorus of complaints made you smile, shaking your head with such fondness it almost hurt. Jenny gave you a tight hug, ignoring how wet your shirt was, leaving a wet patch on her own. Jared lifted you off your feet, swinging you in a circle. You were laughing and holding on for dear life but his strength was everything. Henry have you a one arms hug, the other holding the water pistol, trying to fight off Carter. He grabbed your face with both hands, kissing you with a loud smack on your forehead.

You turned back to wave from the door before your hand was sliding into Melissa’s again and you were being led out the front door. Settling into her car, you let out a sigh, one that spoke of happiness and contentment. You lent back in your seat, the smile on your face wide, all encompassing, until the muscles in your cheek began to hurt.

“Thank you,” you said, “that was a really good afternoon.”

“Your friends are interesting,” Melissa said, pulling out onto the road.

“They mean well,” you said, “sorry if they… I dunno. Made you uncomfortable or something.”

“They didn’t,” she assured you.

“You don’t have to lie. I heard them grilling you,” you said, not quite able to look at her. You hadn’t planned on bringing it up, but the words spilled from your lips without permission.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable, hon,” she said but her voice was tight.

You sighed, shuffling in your seat until you were looking at her. Her hands had tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles growing white. You wanted to reach out to her but didn’t know how, not without making her unhappy with you.

“You answered really well,” you said, hoping it would calm her.

Her eyes flicked to you then back to the road, hands tightening. Still she said nothing. Your fingers twisted together in your lap, anxiety building again. The nice afternoon was being washed away, the calm you’d felt as you’d climbed into the car nothing but a memory.

“Melissa,” you said, hoping the words would come as you spoke.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she snapped before you could say anything more.

“I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable. And I’m sorry for eavesdropping,” you said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I could have stopped them and not… heard.”

“It’s fine,” she said, grip tightening even further, “we’re going to ignore it ever happened.”

“But what you said was so nice. I know you were only saying it so they’d believe we were together but… no one’s ever said anything like that about me,” you said, disappointment making your heart sink.

“What do you mean I only said that for them?” she asked, voice tight.

“Well, you were selling it, right? Helping convince them of the stupid lie I told Carter. Weren’t you?” You didn’t know what she was getting at.

Her head turned towards you again before back to the road.

“Hon.” You’d do anything to stop her sounding that way, like she was in pain.

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“I don’t suppose you do,” she sighed.

The silence that settled over you wasn’t comfortable. It made your skin itch and you wanted to do something to fix it. To make everything better.

“You called me the sun,” you whispered.

Her foot slammed down on the break. You jerked forward, the seatbelt cutting into you. You took a sharp inhalation, hand massaging your chest. Turning towards her, you found her already staring back at you. You stopped breathing.

“Because you are the sun, hon. To me, at least. And I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it. You need to know. You light up a room when you walk in and you’re so fucking bright. Sometimes I can’t even look at you,” burst from her, “fuck, hon, when you look at me like that I can’t think.”

“What?” You couldn’t be sure you weren’t dreaming.

“I didn’t agreed to this whole stupid thing for you,” she said, “I did it because I wanted to know what it would feel like to be yours. I was being selfish.”

“Melissa,” you breathed, overcome with the strength of your emotions.

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare. We’re going to forget this ever happened. We’re never going to talk about it. This is done,” she said, beginning to drive again.

You sat in silence, not sure how to tell her that was the opposite of what you wanted. If you never said anything then you’d never have everything you wanted. You were watching her, taking note of the way she was pointedly not looking at you.

She pulled up outside your apartment building. She sat there, still not looking at you, while you looked to her. She glanced over to you then back out the windscreen, face stoic and unfeeling.

“Go on,” she said, “what are you waiting for? An invitation?”

You continued looking at her until she huffed and turned to look at you too.

“I’ve never gone on more than a first date with anyone in three years because three years ago I met you,” you said, ignoring the disgruntled look on her face, “and since that moment I knew.”

“Knew what?” she asked.

“There wouldn’t be anyone else for me. You were it. Everything I ever wanted.”

“Don’t you fucking make fun of me,” she spat.

“Mel…”

You final bridged the gap, reaching out to her, fingers soft as they touched her wrist. She jerked back from you and it was like having your heart torn out from your chest. You were so close to having what you wanted.

“Melissa,” you said, trying again, “I want you so much it hurts. It’s like this physical ache in my heart. I look at you and it throbs like an open wound. You might think I’m the sun, but you’re the very earth beneath my feet. Solid and grounding and life giving. You’re the air I breath. I think about you all the time. To the point where I can’t sleep at night. I’m sorry. I know I’m being really intense. But you need to know how much I’m not making fun of you. I never would. Not like this.”

You’d been watching her face so closely, desperate to know what she was thinking. From anger to disbelief into something that was almost fear. Your hand landed on her wrist again, holding on now, desperate for her not to pull away again. You needed her to listen to you, to really understand what you were saying.

“What are you saying?” she whispered.

“I am hopeless and completely in love with you, Melissa,” you said, “but I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

She let out a long shaky breath, staring at you as if trying to work out where the lie was. You tightened your grip on her wrist. Her eyes shot down to it then back to you.

“You’re in love with me? Even when I’m so much older? When I can’t offer you anything?” she demanded.

“You can offer yourself and that’s really all I want,” you replied, “it’s all I’ve wanted for three years.”

Her hand rose, hovering over your cheek, before curling around the back of your neck and pulling you in. You whimpered into her mouth, lips sliding along lips. It wasn’t elegant and it wasn’t graceful, but it made your heart pound. She sighed, kissing you harder, as if trying to chase away the voices in her own head. You were swimming in want; wanting her closer, wanting more, wanting everything. Her fingers buried themselves in your hair, holding you there as her tongue sought out yours, making your head spin.

When she drew back, you were gasping for breath. Her lips were kiss stung and her eyes were bright. You surged forward, kissing her again, uncaring of the seatbelt and the centre console and awkward angle. You needed her like you needed air. She was your air. She was your everything.

She was always going to be your everything.

“Hon,” she mumbled against your lips, “wait a moment.”

You froze before reeling back. You never wanted her to ever be uncomfortable with you. You never wanted her to feel pressure or forced into anything.

Her fingers were still buried in the hair at the nape of your neck. She tugged on it and a shudder went through your body. Her eyes were smouldering and when her tongue ran along her bottom lip you groaned, loud in the enclosed space. She chuckled, tugging on your hair again.

“Let me take you out tonight,” she said, voice husky and you could hear how she was holding herself back, “please.”

“Like on a date?” you asked, breathless and desperate, thighs pressing together as you squirmed in your seat.

“Exactly like on a date,” she replied.

“Yeah.” You nodded, “yeah I’d like that.”

“Good.”

She lent forward, lips pressing to yours again. You whined into her mouth, not able to stop yourself. You wanted her so much it was making you lose all control. She pulled back again, sitting back, removing her hands from you. You tried to pull her back but she pushed you into your seat, making you almost cry out from your need for her.

“Go make yourself pretty for me, hon,” she said, eyes darkening when they swept over your body thrumming with desire, “I’ll pick you up tonight.”

“You don’t want to come up?” you asked, knowing how desperate you sounded.

“I do, but I won’t.” Disappointment plummeted through your body, “when I have you I’m taking my time to explore every inch of your body. I want to know everything that turns you on. We don’t have time for that before our date. Go on.”

“You’ll really come pick me up?” you asked, surprised you could still form coherent sentences after her declaration.

“Nothing could stop me,” she said, smiling at you with such wickedness it had your thighs clenching again.

You stumbled from the car, looking back at her. She was watching you, not even pretending not to. You waved to her from the door of your building, heart thundering, anticipation building, desire thrumming. She raised her own hand to you and you had to clench on the door handle lest you flung yourself back into the car and into her lap.

You had a date to go get ready for.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine #melissa schemmenti

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sserpente · 6 months ago

Text

The Devil's Prized Possession

Synopsis: You are Raphael's warlock and tasked with the most difficult mission: Retrieve the Crown of Karsus from the clutches of Enver Gortash. Remember, Raphael does not take kindly to failure. But do him proud and he will reward you for your troubles. As it turns out, he's been particularly eager to introduce you to a certain Incubus for a while now...

A/N: During my 5th run doing the House of Hope I had the most devilish and filthiest idea for a Raphael fic…so here we go! ;)

Words: 3637 Warnings: smut, smut, smut, blood, injuries, violence, voyeurism/exhibitionism, mentions of suicide and rape (past events), and um… incubus?

“My, my…look at how diligent my little warlock has become.”

You breathed out, the grip around your dagger loosening. You were covered in sweat, your damp training clothes sticking to you like a second skin. There was a mirror in the corner a few feet away from where you’d put the training dummy—a straw sack dressed in leather armour. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair greasy. In short, you were in no way presentable to receive your devilish patron.

You flipped around, facing Raphael with his hands clasped behind his back and a sly smile on his lips.

“Do you ever use doors? And knock? Like a normal person?”

“Oh but I am far from a normal person, am I not?”

You sighed. “I remember. That’s how I ended up in this situation in the first place. Why are you here?”

“Why am I here? Can a devil not check in on his little…protégée?”

You scoffed. “Come now, Raphael. I know you better than that. What do you want?”

“Very well. Let us cut to the chase. I have a mission for you.”

“A mission?” You frowned, removing the gloves you had been wearing to protect your knuckles. “For me? Does Korilla have annual leave?” you joked.

“I did not ask Korilla, I am asking you.”

You crossed your arms before your chest when he stalked closer, his eyes fixed on your form, observing every little movement you made. “Running errands for you was not part of our deal, Raphael.”

“Then perhaps you will be interested if I tell you what’s in it for you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Why, power, of course, my dear. What do you know of the crown of Karsus?”

Power? To hunt down the remaining thugs who’d stolen your life? “I’m listening.”

He followed you over to your small kitchen area. You kept some good wine hidden away in a cupboard for the sole purpose of his visits. Your life in Baldur’s Gate wasn’t exactly a luxurious one. When Raphael stepped into your life and you became a Warlock to take revenge on your family’s murderers and your rapist, he’d saved you from a dark pit you feared you’d never be able to get out of. You’d been close to suicide when he found you and offered you a way out. You didn’t regret it, didn��t regret the power his devilish abilities trickled into your very blood to give you abilities beyond your comprehension. Raphael was the reason you were still alive. All he had asked for in return was your soul—forever a guest in his House of Hope.

Raphael sat down at your mangled table. If he was disgusted by the leftovers of your breakfast and the dirty dishes, he hid it well.

You poured him a glass and set it before him on the wooden surface before sitting down opposite him.

“I assume you know the story of Karsus?”

You nodded. “Who doesn’t?”

“Then you’ll know what a powerful artefact the crown is. And I want it.”

“Well, where is it right now?” you asked, seemingly unaffected by his words. You knew better than to question him. You didn’t give a shit about this world anymore. If he decided to take over, at least you knew he’d make the sinners suffer, simply by seducing them into agreeing to a deal with him that they could not refuse.

“It was stolen, my dear. Stolen by someone you know all too well. It was our self-proclaimed saviour of Baldur’s Gate, Lord Enver Gortash. I hear he is up for archduke now.”

You frowned. “Why would Gortash steal the crown of Karsus?”

“Why would anyone? The crown in the hands of this Banite tyrant will bring ruin to the city, to the whole of Faerûn. I intend to save it. I want the crown,” he repeated.

“Wait. Did you say Banite? Enver Gortash is a Banite? Really?”

“The crown, dear. We were talking about the crown.”

“Alright, alright. So what do you want me to do?”

“Oh, it’s quite simple, actually.” He leaned back and smirked. “I want you to retrieve it for me.”

“And steal from the future archduke?”

“You are skilled in stealth. You will find a way.”

“Why me? Why not Korilla?”

“Korilla has been tasked with…some other business of mine.”

You blinked, considering his offer. “I still fail to see what’s in it for me.”

“The crown of Karsus will allow me to become the archdevil supreme. The most powerful devil in existence. Legions will bow to me and follow my command and the hells…will be mine. And you shall become the most powerful warlock any devil has ever taken under their wing.”

“Those were a lot of ‘most powerfuls’ in one sentence. But fine. I bite.”

“Excellent.” He waved his hand and out of a mist of smoke and sparks, a roll of parchment appeared. “Here is all you need to know to infiltrate Wyrm’s Rock. I expect results within a fortnight. Do not disappoint me, little mouse.”

He was gone before you could respond, his glass of wine left untouched.

Stupid, handsome devil. Stupid, stupid Banites! You should never have agreed to this. How could you have known that they would start a bloody cult directly at Wyrm’s Rock? Who could have known that they would, instead of questioning you, send you to the prisons to have you executed the next day? Raphael. Raphael could have known. You scoffed. That damn devil. He’d never elaborated on the consequences if you failed but knowing him, it couldn’t be good.

But then again…you’d already promised him your soul in return for your powers, so what else could he possibly take from you now? You were of little use as a lemur, after all.

If you ever made it out of here, at least you wouldn’t return completely empty-handed, you thought, as you played with the loose straws of hey on the dirty ground. You’d found out a great deal about Gortash’s plans. And he wasn’t operating alone, either. He had both the Chosen of Bhaal and the Chosen of Myrkul by his side.

You’d always known Gortash to be a bit shady but this form of evil was on another level entirely, even for him. An Elder Brain? Frozen ceromorphosis? An Illithid empire with him on top? You shook your head.

It was just then that sparks of hellfire danced through the cell. Smoke erupted in the corner, the smell of sulphur filling the stale air; and yet, despite the discomfort this very circumstance should have brought you, you felt relief flooding your body.

“My, my, what a predicament you have gotten yourself into here.”

“Raphael! Thank the gods… get me out of here, please!”

He truly was a sight to behold—hope, ironically, given your current predicament.

“Come. We have much to discuss.”

You stood, patting the dirt and the dust from your clothes. A sliver of hesitation wrapped its icy claw around your heart as you took the hand he offered and teleported you to safety. But wherever he took you…it was not your home.

“Where are we?” You peeked around, taking in your lavish surroundings. Imposing statues of devils—of Raphael himself—towered up into the air, marble pillars holding a high ceiling. Everything in here had been placed in the right spot with the utmost care, carefully chosen by Raphael himself, even the bottle of finely aged wine and the silver chalice next to it on the small table in front of a luxurious armchair by the fireplace.

The chimney was lit and spreading warmth. This…this was…

“The House of Hope,” Raphael finished your thought.

“I’m in the hells?”

“Indeed you are, my dear. Now. Have a seat. And tell me what happened.”

You did as you were told—there was little to no reason for you to resist or fall to your knees to beg him for his forgiveness. Not yet, anyway.

Raphael sat down in the armchair opposite you.

“You are…surprisingly calm,” you said.

“Should I not be?”

“Well…I failed you. Your mission. Aren’t you going to roast me over eternal hellfire?”

“You did fail. Except you did not.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“I knew that retrieving that crown was going to be no easy feat. I knew Gortash was a force not to be underestimated. You merely needed the motivation to try. So tell me. What were you able to find out?”

You blinked. You were…forgiven? By Raphael himself? Confused and still a little hesitant, you told him everything you had learned—including where his precious Crown of Karsus was right now.

“Hmm…hmm…”

He looked away and said nothing else for a while but who were you to interrupt his devilish thoughts?

“That indeed changes the game…I will need time to accommodate to these…circumstances, shall we say.”

“So…am I dismissed?”

Finally, Raphael’s gaze found yours again. His smirk burned hot in your veins, setting the power he fed you with ablaze. Damn that warlock connection.

“You are. You provided me with everything I needed to know about the crown’s whereabouts. About Gortash’s plan, the dead three, and the Elder Brain. You did well.”

You tilted your head. “No punishment? No ‘your soul will burn in eternal hellfire for failing me’?”

A pause. And then, his smirk grew even wider. “No.”

“Okay…um…thank you. So…how do I get back home?”

“You don’t.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“As of right now, you are a wanted criminal and a traitor to Baldur’s Gate. The Banites will long have infiltrated your home. It would be suicide to return just yet.”

Shit. He had a point. “But…where am I supposed to go then?”

“Why, you will stay here, of course, in my House of Hope.”

“You…you want me to stay here…in the hells…with you?”

“Now, now, I will be very busy. Do not expect me to entertain you, little mouse.”

You bit your lower lip. You despised his nickname for you…except you didn’t—and neither did, apparently, your nether regions.

“But for now…” he continued, looking you up and down as if deep in thought all of a sudden. “Let me show you around. I believe you deserve a reward for all your hard work. You can freshen up in my boudoir, wash the dirt from your skin. You will most certainly enjoy what awaits you there.”

You didn’t like his tone when he said that. Not at all. Expect you loved it. There was something sensual about Raphael’s voice—the devil loved to listen to himself talk but of course, that was nothing new. You’d grown to like his ways, his attitude, even his arrogance. After all, he was the very reason for your powers.

Raphael led you through a long and empty corridor, safe for the souls who had been unfortunate enough to strike a deal with him. If this was his way of showing you what awaited you once you perished…you swallowed thickly, your stomach churning.

“Oh…oh…oh…you will be so much fun to watch!” The soul who spoke to you had wide eyes and she was visibly…aroused. Perhaps at this point, your alarm bells should have been ringing. Whatever Raphael’s plans were…whatever awaited you in the boudoir…

“I gave them exactly what they asked for, little mouse,” Raphael said, his hand finding the small of your back. “Don’t worry. The fate you promised me will be much less hopeless and sufferable.”

You stepped through what resembled a portal—an arcane lock, you realised—keeping unwanted visitors out. Cool magic grazed your skin, and then you faced a vast pool with two running faucets on either end. Cushions, wine, delicacies, and even books formed a wreath around the pool, along the wall there were several wardrobes you assumed contained fresh clothes and towels. There was another area behind the pool, one that was barely visible from where you were standing. Still, you could make out the wooden posts and the luxurious fabric of a king-size bed.

“Please… step inside. Help yourself to some fruit and some wine.”

You hesitated—again. But this time it was because of a strange stab of excitement in your stomach.

Eventually, you stepped forward and took off your boots. Raphael, however, made no move to leave. Instead, he stalked over to a lush sofa in front of a high window and sat down with his legs spread wide as if he owned the place. Well. He did.

What was his plan? Was he going to watch you? You knew better than to object. You had no problem with nudity, although it was a little strange Raphael would want to watch you bathe.

With a sigh—if anything to shake off the nervousness eating away at your insides—you began to undress until not a single layer of fabric remained.

Your patron’s eyes followed your every move as you stepped into the pool, taking in every single inch of your exposed skin. It was…pleasant. The water was just right and as it wrapped around your limbs to clean it, it felt…soft.

You moved to the middle of the pool, submerging yourself until the water reached your collarbones. The bruises and cuts you had taken with you from this mission all but shrunk and disappeared, leaving behind healthy and unmarred skin. Restoration faucets…no wonder Raphael always looked so impeccable and untouched.

The relief was like a balm for your body. Your aches disappeared, the exhaustion draining from your core. You were about to close your eyes when all of a sudden, a tall figure appeared above you. A gust of wind tore through your hair. You looked up, discovering bat-like wings keeping a red-skinned figure in the air with its arms crossed, a sly smirk on its—his lips.

The demon, an Incubus, you recognised quickly, was the spitting image of Raphael.

“Hello, little mouse.” Fuck. He sounded like him too. “Is that your little warlock?” he asked. You were very well aware he wasn’t talking to you, yet all you could do was stare at him with wide eyes and your jaw dropped.

“Isn’t she a fine specimen?” Raphael bragged.

“She is indeed.” The incubus lowered himself down until his bare feet touched the carpeted floor, his eyes, identical to Raphael’s, never leaving your form. You were frozen in place. Meeting an incubus in the flesh was quite a remarkable experience—but also potentially dangerous. What did your patron have in mind? To show you off? You gasped for air. He’d promised you a ‘reward’. He couldn’t have been referring to…

“My name is Harleep,” the incubus purred as he flew closer. The faint smell of sulphur hit your nostrils. Every instinct inside of you screamed for you to get out, to save yourself…yet a very depraved and filthy part of you was begging you to stay to see what would happen. What could happen.

You told him your own name and he gave a toothless grin. “Such a pretty little mouse…what do you say? Should we make you feel good? I take it Raphael has brought you here because you’ve been a very, very good girl.”

You lower regions clenched. Fuck. Why did this excite you so much? It shouldn’t. And yet, you found yourself nodding. “I…I think so?”

Raphael chuckled. “I was hoping you’d say yes. Harleep is a very…thorough lover. And I do admit, after all of our time spent together, I am rather curious as to what it would be like to claim you.”

Oh. Oh. He…oh gods. If there was one thing you knew about Raphael it was that he was quite possibly the most narcissistic and self-absorbed devil in the nine hells. It was beneath him to mingle with anyone who didn’t live up to his standards—and the only one who did, apparently, was himself.

You actually had to bite back a laugh when you realised. Raphael had made Harleep take his form because he wouldn’t fuck anyone but himself. And now…he wanted to watch Harleep fuck you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the thought intriguing. It had been ages since you’d last had sex, besides, receiving pleasure from an incubus? There was nothing else like it. Should you give in?

“My…such a shy little mouse…” Harleep’s hand came up to stroke your cheek as you stood there in the water, naked and dumbfounded. It slid down the side of your face, over your neck, your shoulders, and your arm until he was able to intertwine his fingers with yours and gently pull you with him.

And just like that…all of your remaining resistance, any doubts and fears…faded away. Harleep snapped his fingers to dry your skin and had you sprawl out on the huge king-size bed. The bed sheets were soft, silk, or satin as you sank into the mattress and rested your head on the pillow. The Incubus crawled over you in an almost predatory manner, Raphael following suit behind him. He pulled up a chair and poured himself a glass of wine, his mischievous eyes glistening with curiosity and desire.

Oh gods…he really was going to do this, wasn’t he? This was going to happen. He was going to watch Harleep fuck you right before his eyes.

You breathed out when Harleep grabbed your knees and spread your legs for him to position himself between them. You glanced down, eyes widening a little at his size. He was as hard as a rock, his red skin almost glowing in the orange light of the hells. Feeling him inside you…all of a sudden, there was nothing else you wanted in this world any more than this, any more than him.

He already was fucking with your mind then…Incubi had an uncanny ability to charm their victims before they devoured them entirely. But surely, Raphael wouldn’t let him go this far…would he?

Harleep’s tip pressed against your entrance and you realised in shock that you were dripping wet. Your pussy was throbbing, eager to take a cock and ease the growing arousal he was making you feel.

“Now…let us see how you taste, little mouse.” Harleep buried himself inside you to the hilt without any forewarning, meeting no resistance from your wanton body. A gasp escaped your lips as he claimed you, causing Raphael to chuckle as he twirled the red wine in his chalice before taking a sip.

“Hmm…like a lush and ripe fruit, juicy and ready to be plucked…” the incubus raved.

Was that really how you tasted to a sex demon? You couldn’t talk, couldn’t think… You bit your lower lip, digging your nails into the sheets as Harleep began to move inside you, withdrawing almost entirely only to plunge himself back in and fuck you slowly and intimately as if to savour your body.

Your breathing grew heavier, your arousal climbing even higher. Every single thrust was an ode to an impending orgasm. It was pleasure like you had never experienced it before. Nothing else mattered anymore. Whatever Harleep was doing, whatever his superpower was…it was working. Penetrative sex alone never did the trick for you—but with him, you’d been on the brink of climax from the very moment he’d sheathed himself inside of you.

Raphael chuckled and your head fell to the side. His gaze lingered on your joined bodies, taking in your bouncing breasts and Harleep’s powerful strokes, his cock disappearing into your wet warmth over and over again. He looked…fascinated—and you couldn’t help but let it fuel your carnal desire to drown in a whirlwind of lust.

Harleep joined in on the devil’s chuckle. “Keep going, little mouse. I can feel you tightening around me. You want to come so badly, don’t you?”

You bit your lower lip harder, almost drawing blood. Forcing your eyes back on Harleep, you nodded eagerly.

“Then come, little mouse. Show us how much you are enjoying this.”

It was all you wanted to hear, all you needed to hear. You fell apart beneath him on the bed, the delicious knot in your stomach unbound. Your walls contracted around Harleep’s cock who did not relent, fucking you through your orgasm until you turned into a whimpering mess.

The pleasure cursed through you like pure electricity, your mind shutting off. You were his…his for the taking, his to feed on, his to do with you as he pleased, forever…

“Now, now, Harleep. Don’t forget your manners.”

The incubus chuckled and with a start, as the last remaining weaves of bliss ebbed away, you woke up. Harleep dug his nails into your hips, lifting them off the bed to bury himself even deeper. He fucked you hard and fast now, ready to take his own relief.

“Do not come inside of her,” you heard Raphael say. His tone allowed no contraction.

You threw your head back, enjoying every single luscious thrust until Harleep stilled and pulled out, one of his hands wrapping around his length to finish himself off.

Ropes of his seed landed on the clean bed sheets between your legs, staining the pretty fabric. You were panting, fighting for your sanity when part of you didn’t even want it back.

“My, my…what a show.”

You half-expected Raphael to clap. Instead, he only chuckled again and got up from his seat. You couldn’t help it—you glanced down, noticing the considerable bulge in his trousers.

“Join me for dinner once you’ve recovered. You must be famished, my dear.”

With that, he left, leaving you behind with a seemingly out-of-breath Incubus who was still drinking in your essence, your arousal. He seemed…satiated. Amused, even.

Fuck. You’d need that restoration faucet again before you could even consider having supper with the very devil you had promised your soul to.

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael bg3 imagine #raphael bg3 smut #raphael x reader #raphael the cambion #raphael x you #harleep #harleep x you #harleep x reader #harleep bg3 smut #andrew wincott #raphael bg3 x reader

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jenscx · 11 months ago

Text

LET ME IN — yu jimin

you return to your hometown after being overseas for years. there was no possible way for you to anticipate your old high school sweetheart waiting at the airport.

tags angst, fluff, exes to lovers, happy ending, high school sweetheart, cursing

wordcount 5.1k

the sweater that you had picked out today, feels unfamiliar on your skin. it’s the one which reads, ‘seniors of 2018’. it’s the one you had never gone near, leaving it to rot in your closet. it’s the one that holds the most painful memories for you. how could a piece of clothing cause you so much pain?

frankly, you know why. it’s the one jimin had given to you as you left for the train to the airport. “something to remember me by,” she had stated after pulling it over the top of your head.

you had huffed, playfully asking, “how could i ever forget you?”

your closet had witnessed your stares— or rather glares at the sweater. not until an hour had passed, when you finally heaved a sigh and grabbed it off the hanger that was situated at the corner of the closet. it’s just because it’s comfortable, you had reasoned before. and it didn’t matter what you wore underneath the puffer jacket, it would end up covered.

of course, these were all excuses, trying to deny the very fact that it just reminded you of jimin. and you were very welcoming towards such reminders.

reminders of what?

you shake your head, picturing a blank canvas before the melodic laughter filled your ears. jimin’s laugh.

the screeching of your luggage’s wheels distract you. aeri’s standing at the door, a hand on your suitcase.

“hey girl,” she checks the watch on her wrist, “we gotta go. flight’s at 2.”

you nod, ignoring the fact that you had spent almost two whole hours thinking about the repercussions of returning back to… home? could you even call it that?

aeri seems to notice your inner turmoil, since in the taxi, she places a comforting hand over yours, sending you a small smile. while it didn’t really settle your nerves, you appreciated the effort nonetheless.

the journey to the boarding gate is like a fever dream. your airpods betraying you, randomly shuffling to a girls’ generation song. it was like a cry back to the past, when you and jimin would listen to girls’ generation songs together.

for jimin, you had complied.

you open your eyes, you can only see the back of someone’s head above the aeroplane’s seat. if you keep your eyes closed for too long, you might start to envision a blur of jimin’s perfect eyes, her nose, her lips that were always pursed in disappointment when she caught you and minjeong stealing her snacks…

the realisation that you can’t remember the face that once made you the happiest girl on the planet hits hard. it hits harder than the guilt and misery you felt when jimin, a week after you had left korea, sent a flurry of messages that went unresponded.

“i didn’t know you liked girls’ generation,” aeri comments. startled, you stare at your phone, the lock screen wallpaper being jimin’s back displaying girls’ generation’s holiday night baseball t-shirt. the girl had forced you to buy matching ones with her, you recall bitterly.

“i don’t,” you answer coolly, swiftly turning off your phone. aeri eyes you weirdly but eventually lets you off the hook and leans back into her seat.

the rest of the thirteen hours flight, you busy yourself with work— leftovers from the time before break, drafts of sketches, thesis statements and long-winded essays. while a plane was not the best environment to finish a full drawing, you could at least make some rough sketches. somehow, your pencil graphite gravitates from sturdy, concrete buildings to soft cheekbones, hooded eyes, pouty lips.

shit, you blink, taking in your subconscious sketch of a woman, familiar to your past.

almost instantly shutting your sketchbook shut, you ignore the implications of what your mind was telling you. the crew neck sweater itches at your neck. it’s almost like the words embroidered on the cotton burn into your heart, to always make you remember and recall the time before messy relationships, longing feelings and just enjoying the present time.

time. you didn’t have much of it anyway.

maybe this trip would allow you to make peace with the past. you wouldn’t flinch whenever your friends would talk about league of legends champion, ‘katarina’, or you wouldn’t immediately decline movie night with aeri in fear that one of the actresses would look eerily similar to jimin.

allowing your brain to wander past your comfort zone, you wonder what she's doing now. was she a flight stewardess? did she manage to finally get better at pubg? was her favourite colour still blue? did she still have that sparkle in her eyes when food was brought up?

the last thought makes you chuckle, reminiscing how excited jimin was whenever food was involved. when yizhuo would bring back mala snacks from china, jimin would be gone in a flash.

(so would yizhuo’s snacks, you can’t count the number of times you were forced to lie about who the perpetrator was.

maybe it was worth it when jimin would beam at you, flashing a bright smile that rivalled the shine of diamonds).

with bittersweet memories, you drift off. sleepless nights made up for, by just giving yourself permission to think about her.

you dream of crashing waves, two people on the shore, just sitting down and gazing at the scenery. the sunset’s everlasting in this timeline. like time doesn’t exist and all they did was stare at the deep ocean.

before you even get to see their faces, the announcement rings throughout the flight.

you sigh deeply, catching the attention of aeri.

“you okay? you slept so soundly, i thought you died,” the japanese girl asks worriedly. you laugh, it was the best sleep you ever got, and it was on an aeroplane.

strange how our consciousness works.

“i’m good,” this time you weren’t lying.

you stare at the glass doors, wondering if minjeong had told anyone else to come fetch you. it wasn’t a far fetched thought, maybe the girl had asked yizhuo to come as well. the chinese girl would kill minjeong if she didn’t tell her about your arrival back in korea after what? three, almost four years?

“hey, i asked my friend to pick us up and she might have brought someone else,” you warn aeri.

“oh that’s fun… why do you sound so scared?”

“because, the other girl is a little overbearing,” you scoff, “she might try to climb you, just a warning.”

aeri widens her eyes as you two drag your luggage to the gates.

she gapes, “no kidding? is she a koala or something?”

“something like that,” you shrug.

the doors open. it’s your first step (not really) into korea. the air is the same anywhere else, but the feeling isn’t.

it’s the feeling of uncertainty. the feeling of fear. aeri clasps your free hand tightly in hers, sensing your hesitance.

your gaze glides over the crowd of people waiting for their own family. aeri makes a noise of recognition and she pulls you to the side, you finally spot someone familiar.

“minjeong…!” you call out, voice going silent at the sight of a girl that is most definitely not minjeong.

it’s not yizhuo either, that’s for sure.

“did minjeong get plastic surgery or something?”

you want to run.

“because… that’s not— that’s not minjeong,” you whisper, “that’s yu jimin.”

aeri deadpans, “you say that like i know who the hell she is.”

you want to kill minjeong. and maybe jimin wants to kill aeri with how hard she’s glaring at her.

jimin only trots slowly towards you.

jimin’s eyes dart from aeri’s face back to yours, her hard, cold gaze trailing down to your sweater that has come uncovered by the puffer jacket. your eyes narrow when she raises an eyebrow at you, as if asking you, “why are you wearing that?”

you don’t answer her, because you don’t know either.

“i’m jimin, y/n’s—”

“friend,” you interrupt, quickly turning away to avoid the flash of hurt on jimin’s face.

the mentioned girl recovers quickly, putting on a fake smile, “classmate of y/n from high school.”

“i’m uchinaga aeri, y/n’s roommate, thank you for picking us up!” aeri grins widely, ignoring the deadly lasers pointing her way.

“where are you staying, if i may ask?” jimin’s sharp tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“with y/n—”

you cover aeri’s mouth, knowing how jimin gets, “it’s none of your business.”

your roommate makes a noise of indignation and licks a long strip across your palm. you groan, taking it off her mouth and wiping it on her jacket.

“that’s so gross,” you mutter in english.

“your english has gotten better,” jimin notes as the three of you walk to her car.

you don’t know what to say, so you stay silent.

“where do you stay, jimin-ssi?” aeri makes small talk to cover up the awkward silence. you thank her internally.

jimin stares at you through the mirror, “with y/n.”

you bite your lip, nervous at what jimin might say next. you had never told aeri about your complicated relationship with jimin and you didn’t plan to. only because of kim minjeong meddling in, now it seems like everything has to be uncovered again.

“she’s a bad roommate, right?” surprisingly, aeri ignores jimin’s statement and instead continues to complain about you.

you’re shocked, to say the least. you thought aeri would have started blabbing and asking probing questions about your past roommate situation. or maybe she noticed your sullen look.

“i thought four years would have been enough for her to change her bad habits,” jimin says.

you know for a fact she isn’t talking about the same thing as aeri. jimin was even worse than you as a roommate; eating your secret snack stash, never cleaning up the pile of laundry she had in her room and always invading your alone time in bed.

“many things have changed,” you mumble, “i’m not the same as before.”

the car goes silent, jimin probably analysing your words while aeri pouts, confused by the strange tension you had with your so-called friend.

“if you desire something enough, you’d want it to stay the same forever.”

you retort, “change is inevitable.”

aeri says quietly in the corner, “i know the guy who said that, his name is like john, or something.”

struggling to keep your laughter silent, you splutter in aghast at aeri’s sudden general knowledge.

“you’re so strange,” you comment.

aeri laughs, “i know, but you like me for that, right?”

(“—only had a brain the size of a walnut, that’s why the stegosaurus was one of the dumbest dinosaurs!” jimin reads out loud from your bed.

you stand at your vanity, finishing up your skincare, trying not to laugh at jimin’s absurd dinosaur facts, “you’re so weird.”

“you like that about me though?”)

you sense how intimate the conversation feels for the both of you, so you stop answering aeri and instead focus on jimin. her grip on the steering wheel has tightened significantly, eyes burning with something you can’t identify.

“you’re being annoying again, go to sleep or something, it’s a long drive from here to my house—” you halt in the middle of your sentence, finally questioning the very fact of… why?

why is yu jimin here? even if minjeong asked her to, why? the jimin you knew would never do this. the jimin you knew would never give up her sleeping time just to fetch an old friend, who she maybe had something going on with, and a stranger? yizhuo had friends from china who were visiting, and even then, jimin refused to fetch them from the airport. she was the only one in your friend group with a licence so it only made sense to ask her.

you try to bury yourself in the sweater even more. it was fine for now. seeing jimin in the flesh. but maybe you were so jet lagged that you hadn’t made sense of the situation yet.

the only sensible thing to do for now, was to let yourself escape into dreamland and wait for the morning after.

you can only anticipate it would be full of awkward silence, tension-filled gazes, hesitant actions.

it’s difficult to fall asleep. you decide to blame your insomnia on the nap you had during the flight. even when you know it’s because of the deeply asleep body, separated by a thin wall.

you’re sitting upright, staring at the unveiled moon. it’s stunning, not like the sun which literally glares. the moon is calming, easing you into the next day, all while making you feel… loneliness.

how could you feel lonely even with so many people around you?

(“do you think soulmates exist?” you had asked, curious of jimin’s take on such tales.

the girl seems taken aback, but she ultimately replies, “if they do, i think you’re mine.”)

you clench the duvet in your fists tightly, mind grasping at any other thought than of yu jimin. it’s unfortunate that you seem to enjoy the pain and torture past memories bring with how often your brain wanders through them.

maybe it’s time to come clean with yourself.

you were back in your hometown. you were staying in the same apartment as you did before you left. one that you shared with yu jimin; one that you called home.

eyes starting to become watery, you wipe them off and take a seat at your desk. if you were going to stay awake the rest of the night, might as well get work done. pulling out your sketchbook, the first page to be opened is the drawing of jimin from the flight. the realisation slaps you.

how long would it take someone to get over the love of their life?

for you, maybe eternity.

the door creaks open slightly. your head turns sharply, hand instinctively covering the drawing.

“y/n…?”

“jimin,” you inhale, “why are you still awake?”

she doesn’t bother to answer you and instead chooses to sit on your bed. once you notice the pyjamas she’s wearing, you feel daggers stab into your heart. it’s one of your many matching pyjamas with her. you hadn’t touched any of them since you left korea.

“are you dating aeri?” she asks.

you know what she’s secretly trying to ask.

“no, she’s just a friend.”

“that’s what they always say,” jimin scoffs. her tone doesn’t sit right with you.

with a sudden urge to defend your friendship with aeri, you shoot back, “i recall you saying that about lee jeno too.”

your words clearly strike a chord in jimin, her eyes widen, hurtful remarks at the tip of her tongue. yet, she merely looks away. you hate how beautiful she looks in the moonlight.

“y’know, technically we’re still dating.”

“what are you talking about?” you ask, bewildered.

jimin rolls her eyes, “we never explicitly broke up, you only ghosted me. technically we’re still together.”

“stop spouting nonsense.”

the girl only pouts in annoyance. you hate how your heartstrings tug at her cute expression. right now, yu jimin had to be anything but cute.

“and i didn’t ghost you, i was busy.” the lie slips out easily, revealing how used you are to saying it. jimin, of course, doesn’t believe you. she had never.

jimin frowns.

“you always say that too.”

she stands up, walking bit by bit closer to you. your hand grips the sketchbook protectively.

placing a hand onto the back of your chair, jimin smirks, leaning in. you hate how attractive she looks.

her now blonde locks form a curtain around your faces, preventing any outsider to peek in and see what you were doing.

“i think you’re a bad friend,” jimin claims.

“what?”

you can’t take your eyes off her fluttering eyelashes, her red nose, probably from the cold, and her eyes filled with determination.

“you lied to aeri,” she whispers, “since when were we ever just friends?”

a lump forms in your throat. your heart constricts. you can barely even say a word. you’re speechless.

“we’re barely even friends, roommates, probably,” you splutter out.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” jimin eyes you with an amused expression, lips twitching with the threat of a big, wide smile. you realise your words bid you no help, only further supplying as a challenge for jimin— for you to admit that you were more than friends. no words needed to be exchanged about that fact, but you being you, after fulfilling years of ghosting, would never admit that you harboured any sort of feelings for jimin after being the main reason why your relationship fell apart.

you would argue that your absence was just a contributing factor. the real trigger came in the form of lee jeno, a man that you could say with your whole heart and soul, you hated with every bone in your body.

after you had left, with a promise to stay in contact with jimin, you realised how hard it was to maintain your relationship status. and when jimin posted countless instagram stories of jeno, you realised again that maybe it was best to break it off.

never in the duration of your ‘ghosting stage’ had you ever told jimin the real reason for your sudden coldness. madly jealous and insecure, you decided to disappear. disappear just from jimin though.

“i’ve always been curious,” jimin pulls back from your intense gaze, “why you started being so distant, cold and indifferent. tell me, will you?”

“that’s just my personality.” a direct white lie, you decide to tell.

“i was heartbroken,” she ignores you and continues her monolouge, “my girlfriend decides to ghost me, and just me. made me think i did something wrong.”

you lick your lips, suddenly feeling your throat constrict up. no longer was this just banter, the conversation was steering into uncharted territory.

“it wasn’t just you,” you desperately argue, trying to direct the conversation away, “moving to another country isn’t easy.”

“you’re pretending our whole relationship didn’t exist. maybe in your eyes it meant nothing, but for me, it was everything. don’t you know every single day i have nightmares? the craziest thing is that all the demons in my nightmares have your smile,” jimin whispers fiercely, “and yet, i stay faithful to those nightmares, even if i wake up crying for someone who didn’t even bother answering my calls. you may have only been in the states, but it felt like you were on another planet. i was the last person to know you were coming back, even though you promised me; promised that if you were to return, i would be the first person to—”

you can’t control yourself. hearing her words makes your blood boil. the pumping of your heart only accelerates further as you lift up your hand, delivering a heavy slap across her face. how dare she? how dare she act as if everything was your fault? how could she accuse your devotion and adoration for her?

“don’t act like you’re the fucking victim, karina,” you hiss, your words even more painful than the stinging red on jimin’s cheek, “the first morning after, i sent you so many texts, barely even seen. then i see your story. were you acting when you said you were sad about me leaving? or were you happy to finally say that you don’t have a girlfriend anymore?”

jimin cradles her cheek in her hand, eyes narrowing when you finally confess the real reason. you can tell she doesn’t remember anything. her not even knowing what she did that made you feel unneeded only drives the blade deeper into your heart.

“drinking at a club with lee jeno,” you say his name with venom, voice gradually getting louder and louder. remembering that aeri’s only a few walls away, you try to control your emotions. “could you not understand how i felt— you said nothing would come between us and the first week away from home, constantly ignoring me for some guy.”

(“call me when your plane lands,” jimin said, playing with the hem of her sweater on you.

“isn’t it gonna be midnight in korea when i land?”

the girl merely chuckles, “i’ll be up all night just to hear your voice.”)

the realisation strikes you like a lightning bolt.

“this was a mistake.”

“what?”

“this… me coming back. i should have just stayed in the states but fuck, i let aeri convince me,” you run your fingers through your tousled hair, stressed. jimin was going to cause you to have white hair.

the redness on jimin’s cheek is still there. you feel slightly guilty for ruining her clear complexion.

“that was just how i coped with you leaving,” jimin explains.

you purse your lips, placing your open palms on jimin’s chest. maybe she thinks you’re about to cave in since she sighs in relief. however, instead of pulling her in, you push her until her back is touching your door.

“i don’t need an explanation, or an apology,” you say firmly, “i need time alone away from you.”

“you’ve had 4 years to yourself,” jimin states bitterly.

“i’m sorry for slapping you, but please, either show me your actions matching your words, or just get out of my life for good.”

jimin sighs again, this one full of exasperation.

“go,” you mutter under your breath.

the knife drives deep into your already ruined heart as you push her away. the girl scoffs, grasping your open palms into her hands, intertwining your fingers.

“if you insist on pushing me away, i’ll get rid of any possibility of us being together again. just let me into your heart again,” she throws your hands away and slams the door. the loud bang echoes in your ears, but not as loudly as her words. it only takes a few seconds for you to collapse onto the floor, sobs wrecking your whole body.

“morning,” aeri yawns, “i heard a loud bang last night, was that you or is your apartment haunted?”

you drizzle maple syrup onto your stacked pancakes, sending a bittersweet smile to your friend. your night was spent tossing and turning, both guilt and anger consuming you. when the clock ticked at four in the morning, you finally let yourself think about how jimin made you feel. even if she went to drink right after you left, you should have communicated with her instead of ghosting her. you knew for a fact that she was heartbroken based on the numerous texts your friends had sent you.

fuck, you groan into your pillow. getting up from your bed, your eyes roam the room, eventually landing on the sketchbook at your desk. you never finished that drawing on the plane. after considering (or more likely procrastination), you sit down, pouring your hours and feelings into your drawings. countless of them filled up the sketchbook’s pages. the drawings’ subjects all looked eerily similar to jimin. her pointed nose, soft gaze were all captured in the pages. you finally come to terms with it. you were still in love with her. after all, she was your only muse. thinking about her words from before, you knew that she meant them. spending years waiting for someone who was basically a ghost couldn’t have been easy.

you were going to do something about it.

barely getting any sleep last night, you woke up earlier than usual and decided to prepare breakfast. aeri had woken up an hour after, stomach growling and eyes gleaming at the pancakes.

“by the way,” she says, mouth full of pancake, “i’m meeting up with a friend today and she’s bringing someone too. wanna go with me on a double date?”

fate must be messing with you since right as aeri says the words ‘double date’, yu jimin walks in. her hair tousled, puffed cheeks and eyes narrowing. you stiffen, focusing on picking at your pancakes instead. unbeknownst to you, once jimin spots the lone plate of breakfast on the counter, her gaze softens.

“do you know who your friend’s bringing…?” you whisper softly, trying not to catch the attention of jimin.

aeri, although you love her, says in the loudest voice possible, “somi will be your date! i think she’s your type.”

the scraping of the metal fork makes you squeeze your eyes shut, mentally preparing for jimin’s outburst.

“so-mi,” jimin clicks her tongue.

aeri nods, stuffing her face with more food.

she turns to you, “and you’re going on a date with her?”

“double date with me,” aeri clarifies, “don’t worry jimin-ssi, i’ll be there to protect y/n! y’know in college i always had to pick y/n up from her bad dates. her taste in guys suck.”

“seems like her taste in girls has been downgraded,” jimin comments, smirking. you roll your eyes, wanting nothing more than for her to shut up. aeri guffaws, taking out her phone. “i’ll show you somi’s instagram account and you can decide for yourself, y/n,” she says.

you nod, deciding not to say anything in case jimin flares up. somi’s very pretty, anyone would agree. she had her own attractive style and seemed really confident. you liked that. aeri wasn’t wrong to say that somi was your type. it was just unfortunate that your heart was in the hands of another girl.

while scrolling on aeri’s phone, her alarm rings, reading, ‘brunch with yunny.’

“ah! yunjin wanted to meet earlier, just the two of us,” aeri smiles, “text me later if you wanna join!” she stands up from the table. you’re astonished by how fast she managed to finish those pancakes, her stack was evidently taller than yours. jimin glances at you, amazed as well.

“did she inhale those…?”

“i’ve got no fucking clue,” you mumble, digging into your own. jimin only chuckles and you hate how it makes your heart clench up in affection.

the silence is deafening. without aeri, the air thickens with tension between you and jimin, filled with nostalgia and regret. it feels just like last time— you and jimin eating breakfast together at that very same table, giggling about whatever trouble your friends got into the previous day.

“hey, about yesterday—”

“it’s fine,” you interrupt, “is your cheek okay?”

jimin swallows hard, “yes, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“don’t lie, come here,” you instruct, “i’ve known you for so long, you can’t lie to me.”

she just laughs, showing you the slightly bruised side of her face. you feel guilt wreck you. no matter how angry you were, you shouldn’t have laid a hand on her.

“did you ice it?”

jimin shakes her head. you sigh, getting up and taking an ice pack out of the freezer. it’s too easy for you to return to past habits, moving around the kitchen like it was 2018 and jimin was the love of your life (she still is). wrapping the ice pack in a towel, you inch closer to jimin, holding it to her cheek. she winces slightly and you resist the urge to hold her hand in comfort.

“y/n…”

“hm?”

the girl seems so small now— her posture deflated, eyes barely meeting yours, biting her lip nervously. you have a feeling you know what she’s about to ask.

“are you going on that date with soyoung?” you laugh loudly, catching jimin off guard.

“jimin, her name’s somi.”

pouting, jimin turns away from you, making your hand falter. “hey, i need to ice your face.”

“i won’t let you unless you answer my question.” she’s so childish it’s adorable. the tension has gone, now filled with uncertainty instead.

“i don’t have anyone to spend the afternoon with. minjeong and yizhuo are busy today,” you explain.

“you have me,” she mutters.

ignoring her, you answer, “aeri seemed really excited for us to meet.”

“you spent all your time in the states with her, you should spend time with your friends here,” jimin retorts.

her hesitance to even admit she wants to spend time with you makes you want to tease her.

“oh? you’re right,” jimin perks up like a puppy. cute, you think. “i should text yujin if she wants to go out, remember her? she was our student council president.”

rolling her eyes, jimin swats at your hand nursing her bruise. it’s too easy for you to return to past habits, bantering with jimin like she was the only girl you’ve ever loved (she was).

it’s too easy. between the choice of going out with aeri to meet someone new and staying in with jimin. it’s such an easy choice to make.

you bring the ice pack away from her face, choosing to caress her cheek lovingly instead. she sighs, content, leaning into your touch.

“jimin,” you gulp, “i’m sorry for these past few years.”

her eyes gaze up at you, “it’s okay. i’ve come to terms with it. i honestly wasn’t expecting you to come back.”

“i wasn’t planning to either, but aeri wanted to.”

“good thing she convinced you, huh?” jimin smiles, “at least i know i was the reason for our break up.”

“it’s only a relationship if there are two people,” you say, “it was my fault too.”

her eyes momentarily flicker to your lips, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“i know these years haven’t been easy on both of us, but if you’re willing to, i think i’m okay with giving us a second chance,” you confess, “even if you hurt me again, i still want you. i just want you. you’ve always been the only one in here.” you point at your heart.

jimin’s eyes shoot straight up, finally breaking into a wide smile, “seriously? even after what i said last night? i’m not complaining but like… you were pretty angry. i just wanted to know why you ghosted me and i agree, i deserved it. but why the sudden change?”

“i mean,” you shrug, “it was what you said that made me think about this. i didn’t want you to stop loving me, because i’ve never stopped loving you.”

“you love me?”

“i love you.”

“this is so crazy, you went from slapping me to…” she trails off, grasping your chin and bringing you into a kiss. her lips were so, so, soft. you wondered why you even let her go. once your lips met, you felt her sigh before smiling into your mouth. catching your breath, you run your fingers through her blonde hair.

“still going on that date with suki?”

“jimin, you know her name’s somi.”

“whatever, i love you too.”

#aespa #aespa x reader #karina x reader #yu jimin x reader #jimin x reader

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holylulusworld · 11 months ago

Text

BFG (2)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: size kink, flirty reader, objectification of Reacher, language, violence, flirting

A/N: Please consider, that I do not follow the exact storyline of season one. Some characters known from the show may appear.

Catch up here: BFG (1)

BFG masterlist

Reacher made himself scarce over the following days. If not for the missing pie in your fridge and the fixed sink, you’d believe Reacher didn’t come to your home at all.

You don’t know what kind of business he has to take care of in your sleepy town, and you don’t want to know. He’s the kind of person you don’t ask too many questions.

“Morning,” you chirp when you walk in on Reacher wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He emptied the rest of your orange juice, drinking right out of the carton.

“Morning,” he looks at you when you pass him by to look in the fridge. “I drank your orange juice and ate the leftovers. I’ll pay you back.”

“Nah, I’m glad you ate the lasagna,” you say while poking your head inside the fridge. “It’s great to have someone around who can eat. A big man needs a lot of food.”

“Uh-thanks,” he grins as you bend a little to look for the eggs. You stick your ass out, offering a perfect view of your ass to Reacher. “I took care of the sink in the kitchen, and I’ll have a look at the heater upstairs.”

“You earned your stay already.” You place the eggs on the counter. “Do you want to have breakfast before you go? I bet you didn’t get any food last night. No wonder you had to eat the leftovers.”

“I came back late and didn’t find the time to grab food,” he dips his head to watch you grab a pan. “I wouldn’t say no to eggs.”

“How about pancakes, eggs, and bacon,” you smirk. Reacher subconsciously licks his lips. He hums and drops his eyes to the eggs. “As long as you are around, I’ll make sure you eat well. I can’t have you starving.”

He laughs. A heartfelt laughter fills the room as you join him. It’s been a while since you felt comfortable enough around a man to be just you.

That’s why you’re single at the moment. You hate playing a role and acting like you are a different person only because a man doesn’t like your attitude or personality.

You are who you are. Nothing less and nothing more.

“You think I’m starving?” He challenges.

“A man must eat to stay as big and tall as you,” you point out while unashamedly looking him up and down. “Now, pancakes yes or no?”

“I won’t say no to some pancakes and eggs…and bacon. Can I help you? I’m not a great cook, but I know a few tricks.”

“I bet you do,” you coo, and smirk. This man is a force of nature, and you try to show him that you can hold up with him. “What do you have up your sleeve, Mr. Reacher?”

Cocking your head, you watch him wipe his hand on his shirt.

“Just Reacher, mom called me that too,” he says. “And she taught me a thing or two when it comes to cooking.” He reaches for the eggs. “I can prepare the pancakes if you want me to.”

“Your mom,” you hum. “I learned baking and cooking from granny and my mom.”

“Your door needs fixing too,” he casually says while cracking the eggs. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

“Oh?” you quirk a brow. “What’s wrong with my door?”

He sighs, long and a little exasperated. “It’s not safe. Anyone could break in and steal your leftovers,” his features darken, and he squares his jaw, “or worse.”

“I got a nice baseball bat I’m burning to test on someone’s face,” you grin, but your smile fades when he shakes his head. “What? I’m not some damsel in distress.”

“I know you are not but,” he places his hand on top of yours, “there are people out there stronger than you. Maybe even stronger than me.”

You glance at Reacher. Maybe he’s not wrong. This sleepy town used to be a safe and friendly place, but things changed.

“Okay,” you agree. “This town isn’t as safe as it used to be. If you have any suggestions, tell me. I’ll buy all you’ll need.”

Reacher and you work in silence, preparing breakfast for the two of you. You glance at him from time to time, wondering about his plans for this town. He came here for a reason. You only hope he stays a little longer than a few days…

“Coffee, black,” a familiar voice barks at Sally Ann. It could’ve been a nice day, but now it’s ruined. “Chop, chop! I don’t have all day. Move your ass.”

“A good morning to you too,” you glare at the unwelcome guest. Kliner jr. - a slimy bastard you can’t stand. He believes only because his daddy has more money than his spoiled son can count that he’s better than the other people in town. “What can we bring you today?”

“Coffee, black,” his tone doesn’t change, only the way he stares at you. He cocks his head to watch you turn around to get a cup for him. “You still got that juicy ass, huh? Did anyone already fuck it? Damn, I bet—”

His voice dies, and you hear something slam onto the counter. You assume he slammed his fist down.

You twirl around to show him the way out only to watch Reacher press Kliner Jr.’s head to the counter.

He squares his jaw and lifts his hand only to slam the bastard’s head down onto the counter again.

“No one disrespects this lady in her diner or elsewhere,” Reacher whispers in Kliner Jr.’s ear. “I want you to nod if you understood what I said.”

“Do you know who my father is?” Kliner Jr. spats. He tries to act all tough, but it takes anything in him to not wet his pants. This beast of a man holds his head pinned to the counter and he’s got no clue how to free himself. “He’ll … he’ll…”

“He will do shit boy,” you snap at Kliner Jr. “Now get out of my diner or I will let you arrest for harassment.”

“Bitch!”

Reacher grabs Kliner Jr. but his neck, ready to slam him onto the counter again. “I want you to apologize to this lady. And you better mean it.”

“Fuck you!”

“Reacher. Stop.” You shake your head. “I’d like to tell you that he got the message, but he didn’t. He’s one of these guys who need a kick in the balls to leave a woman alone. I just don’t think anything will fix the mess in his head.”

Reacher looks you straight in the eyes, silently asking you if you want him to hurt Kliner Jr. even more. “You will get out of the diner and never come back. If I hear about you harassing her again, you will wish that you were never born.”

He releases Kliner Jr. and pushes him toward the door. “You are banned from the diner. Never come back.” You yell after him.

“Your coffee tastes like sweat either way,” Kliner Jr. spats while spitting blood onto the floor. “You fucked with the wrong guy.”

“You wish,” you snap and get your baseball bat out from under the counter. “You should be thankful he took care of you, not me. Betsy my bat would’ve made sure that you’ll never have a Kliner Jr.”

“You didn’t lie about that bat,” Reacher points at the baseball bat on the counter. “I knew you were trouble.”

“I could say the same about you.” You both chuckle at your flirty banter. “How about I give you a slice of pie for your help, sweetie.”

“That pet name sticks, huh?” He plops down on his seat. “Do you want me to wipe the counter?” Reacher looks at the blood on the counter. “I can clean up.”

“You handled the bastard, I can handle a little blood,” you wink at Reacher. “What do you want? Cherry, apple, or peach.”

“You know my taste.”

“I see you are already working on my door,” you duck under Reacher’s arm to enter your house. “You know, I wanted to pay for the things you’ll need to make it safer.”

“I got it handled,” he shrugs and goes back to work. It looks like he is trying to protect the crown jewels or something. “I bought orange juice too.”

“Well, if you are done for today,” you lean against the wall next to Reacher, “I’ll make you something for dinner.”

He looks at you and smirks. “I’d like that. I’m almost finished.”

“I’ll be waiting for you in the kitchen. I got a beer for you too.”

You walk toward the kitchen, swaying your hips as you feel his eyes on you.

Smiling to yourself you decide to not let this man slip through your fingers.

Part 3

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