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shipsandlattes · 3 years

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So I know everyone has already dissected this scene to its core, but it’s taken me a good 48 hours to digest this and I just needed to get it out.

I’m an aspiring actor, I’ve been training for a long time, with a lot of amazing teachers. I’ve watched a lot of shows and shipped a lot of couples. Some of them beautiful and canon, others, well, let’s just say waiting 22 years and counting for acknowledgement, closure, anything, it’s a damn challenge. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of will-they-wont-they’s, baiting, purposeful ignorance, deliberate fake outs, zero explanations, storylines that basically caused canon disintegration, the works.

In saying that, Dean and Cas were right up there on the list with the other “impossibles” because honestly, I didn’t think the writers would have the guts to do it, but I am so f*cking proud they did. It’s safe to say I’ve watched the scene a good hundred+ times already.

I’ve seen a lot of “controversy” around Dean’s reaction/Jensen’s acting choices and whether or not Dean reciprocates Cas’ feelings, and obviously, I needed to add my own views to the mix.

Just work with me for a minute here.

Dean Winchester is an emotionally repressed trainwreck, and ironically enough, the one that is so full of emotion it hurts to watch. When Cas first starts his speech, he’s confused, really confused because why on earth would Cas start off on a rant now? Billie’s waiting to kill them, he just said he knew something that was more powerful than she was, something that could save them. That’s where he thought this speech was going.

The confusion turns to realisation that it’s a goodbye when Cas starts telling him how incredible he is, how his entire essence is love. Go back and watch the scene again, when Cas says “you’re the most caring man on Earth”, you physically see Dean look down, his eyes searching, he’s actively trying to make sense of what’s happening, he knows what’s coming and you can see him coming to terms with the shock of the words being said to him. He then looks directly at Cas. That look, that was pure shock.

Also, notice how he doesn’t stop Cas from talking? He doesn’t interject, make a joke, doesn’t talk about how there is no time for this now, they’ve got to at least try and stop Billie. He. says. nothing. He listens, he listens like I’ve never seen Dean listen before. Because it’s sinking in now.

When Cas really starts crying, when he says “you changed me, Dean”, you can actually see the pain in Dean’s eyes. He’s no longer in control of his emotions, he’s crying too. He’s never seen Cas like this, so raw, and vulnerable and human. This is the hardest, most emotional conversation they’ve both ever had. They are talking about the one thing that everybody knows, but is never addressed. When it wasn’t talked about, they could deny it, live in the lie. Once it’s said aloud, it’s real and they can’t turn back.

This above series of interactions is the part that kills me the most. The moment Cas says “because it is”, that’s the exact moment of realisation. Look at that last GIF, really look. He’s just worked it out, that he is Cas’ true happiness. He knows what’s coming before Cas even says it. Go back and watch the scene again, they pulled that off so well, the way the music swells at this exact moment. Jensen is giving us everything here, you can see what’s happening in his head - he is Cas’ happiness. He is the one thing on Earth Cas wants and thinks he can’t have. He is the reason Cas is about to die. He knows what Cas is about to say and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it, not now, not like this. It’s almost a silent plea not to say it, because he knows. Of course he knows. It’s like he can’t quite believe Cas is really, after all this time, finally going to say it.

And because obviously Jensen decided that that wasn’t enough to break us, the loaded reaction when Cas says “I love you” has me nothing but convinced that it’s reciprocated. Because Dean knows. He’s always known. Those tears, that head tilt, that gulp. He’s so genuinely confused that they’re really having this conversation. It’s like he can’t quite believe that this is the reality before him because he’s been living in that denial, in that self-loathing and unlovable layer he believes to be true. He’s been under the ‘what if... but it could never be’ umbrella for so long.

What also makes this real is that there isn’t anyone else around this time. When “I love you’s” have been said before, they have always been able to deflect it, with other people or other words. Now it’s just the two of them. No deflecting, no running away. Dean is forced to hear it, to absorb it, to realise it’s for nobody else but him.

Now, I don’t know if you guys felt this, but when Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas”, he wasn’t just referring to Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty, he’s telling Cas that he can’t just say this, not now, knowing he’s going to die, knowing that Dean won’t get a chance to think, to process, to say what he needs too. I keep staring at that GIF above, Dean is breaking down, I’m almost convinced that Jensen was using an “I love you too, please just stop this” inner monologue for this bit. Look at the way he’s looking at Cas before he realises the Empty has started materialising and turns around. That’s a look of pure heartbreak. Trust me when I tell you, it’s really hard to keep those inner thoughts inside if you’re so in the moment - actually, don’t just take my word for it, read any acting book, ask any actor, it’s so hard to keep that in and sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you do - it’s in both the resistance and the letting go that the gold happens. This my friends, is gold.

Did anyone else hear “Cas, I-”, well, regardless of whether or not it was an “I” or a very sharp breath, the outcome is the same. Dean’s gone into immediate panic mode. The Empty at one end and Billie at the other, and all poor Dean wants to do is gather his thoughts on not what to say but how to say it. I don’t think he comprehended just how little time he had, he was so focused on what was being said that the reality of the situation caught him completely off guard.

Also, I know this post was about dissecting Dean’s reaction, but can we sidebar a minute to talk about Cas as he pushes Dean out of the way? He’s sobbing, he’s fully crying. That hit me really hard, I’ve never seen Cas cry like that, I’ve never seen Misha get to play that level of emotion before and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch since The Doctor and Rose and Buffy and Spike, to which by the way, I find many parallels between those couples and this scene.

Speaking of crying, that brings me to this: Dean slumped on the floor, ignoring a call from Sam, sobbing his heart out knowing he’s lost everything. Dean-I’m-emotionally-unavailable-Winchester is sobbing. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever seeing Dean cry like this before either, the sobbing was so evident and piercing in that silence. The look around the room, the burying of his head in his hands, that is a classic writers romantic love trope if I’ve ever seen it, they really pulled out all the stops with this one.

So, to summarise, I think Jensen’s choices and Dean’s reactions were absolutely and utterly perfect. They both did it so well that it didn’t break from character that these two emotionally distant and repressed men are in love and finally voicing it. Jensen barely said two words and still managed to cause mass coronary’s across the fandom. That my friends is what you call a brilliant actor. I bow down to the talents of these two amazing human beings.

Before I leave this novel, I have to say there are now a few things I’m going to need from the powers that be to not screw this up, help me manifest this:

1. Dean gets to reciprocate his feelings to Cas in person. So, I’m gonna need Cas back and a very emotional Dean.

2. Dean to be actively dealing with heartbreak in the next episode (unless they decided to bring Cas back that soon, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point).

3. Sam to confront Dean about his feelings for Cas, because out of everyone, he’d be the one to hit Dean with the truth of his fears. Sam knows. Sam is supportive. Sam sees it all.

4. I’m gonna need some physical affection, cause after 12 years of nonsense, we damn well deserve it. A hug, and not just any old reunion hug, a proper, this is different now hug. A kiss because hello, in love out loud now. Forehead touching, handholding, really gonna need the works here.

5. A happy ending for the two of them, one way or another. We’ve never had one, it’s time.

Okay, have at it now, let’s speak these into existence please.

Note: GIFs are not mine, I did not make them, credit to owners who I’m not sure of, but they’re beautiful, thanks for making them. EDIT: I’ve just been informed that these gorgeous gifs belong to @michaeldean and @inacatastrophicmind!

#supernatural #SPN #DeanCas #destiel #deanwinchtser #castiel #15x18 #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #actor #acting #I ship it #shipper #i love you #spn spoilers #opinion piece #thoughts #my two cents #ships and lattes

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

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It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One. I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then....

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left.

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact. You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues.

It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down.

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck.

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace.

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront. It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network.

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags. And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere.

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye.

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you. It just felt right.

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic.

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much.

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together.

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions.

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success.

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well.

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again.

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move.

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about.

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed.

Kevin.

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks. Chris was in a rage for a week.

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding.

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else.

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth.

Maybe you too could be friends.

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm. He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond. He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later.

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play.

-----

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him.

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris? This is Y/N. I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you.

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry. I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone. You just never believed that Chris would really move on. And you didn’t know why.

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries! Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed.

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot.

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him.

And that wink.

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed.

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off.

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology.

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging.

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin. You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped.

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option.

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend.

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics. His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy. Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered.

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance. Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set. Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over.

“What can I get you, Sir.”

“I don’t need a drink. I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party. I need it to be extra special.”

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see.

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.”

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin.

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be. You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills.

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking.

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN! WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.”

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban.

“Listen to me.. Listen. I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent. You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him. He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face. Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred. That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan. Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad. Chris was so sweet. You thought about him and you thought about Kevin.

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.” You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.

“Word?” You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand. The one you knew he jacked off with. You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm. Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again.

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.”

Then you snapped out of it.

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him.

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?” Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.”

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell.

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

You looked at Kevin, too. You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.”

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him. The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you. “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?” You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard. Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.”

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it. He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe. He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own. He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue. You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage. He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him. You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long. You pulled it out with a pop.

“You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X. He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more. His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.” You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City. He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.

“So you want me to feel you up?” He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you.

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass? Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game.

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too. It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult. He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down. Is it true?”

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand. Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris. Only you.. Since you and I….” Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again.

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly. He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!” Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted? You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh? You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?” He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.” Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him.

“Please!”

“I know why.”

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit. He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly.

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick. He didn’t have to move. Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him. He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?”

You searched his face. He sounded like he was about to cry. You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid. You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris. I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly. You on your knees for him again was a dream.

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you.

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you. It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought.

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give.

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet.

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you.

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done. You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.”

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor. He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know. None of that meant that we’re back together. That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?”

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own. You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.” You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove.

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees. He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body. He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you. He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

---

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.

“We’re going to Aruba?”

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching. That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.”

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower. You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog!

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babybluebex · 3 years

Text

next week [baron zemo x reader]

summary ↠ you're hired to give a message to a german prisoner, but you never expected to actually take a liking to him. pairing ↠ baron helmut zemo x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 2.9k warnings ↠ explicit language, a bit of nonsexual choking, zemo calls you a bitch a/n ↠ after a week, here she is!! also, if there's demand for it... part 2? until then, enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

The prison felt cold and unforgiving, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. You followed the guard down the halls, twists and turns with no hope of remembering the correct way out.You figured that they had designed it that way on purpose; nobody could leave and escape if the way out was a labyrinth. Finally, you were led to a man sitting at a desk. His eyes followed you as you approached, and it was only once you were fully in front of him did he speak. “Name?” he asked in German, and you cleared your throat. Your German was shaky, but would have to do.

“Zemo,” you replied. “I’m here for visitation with my husband.”

The man laughed a bit. “Pretty girl visiting her man in prison,” he mumbled. “Such a waste. Take off your jacket, Frau Zemo.”

You had no reason to be nervous, but you still shook a bit when you slid your jacket off and held your arms out for the necessary pat-down. But, as you pondered it, you actually had quite a lot to be scared of. The past three days had been hell, for sure. It started with a firm knock on your apartment door in your home of New York City, and you had opened it to see a man with a metal arm and surprisingly kind eyes. He had introduced himself as simply James, and he had told you that he needed you to do something for him.

“I know you’re Sokovian,” James had explained. “I found your name on a registry of citizens that were moved to the US following the Sokovia incident a few years back. If you do this for me, I’ll help you get access to the city ruins. You were young when you lost your parents, yeah? I know the feeling. Not having closure is… Awful. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But, in order to do that, I need you to do something for me?”

You had looked James up and down. “What is the something?” you asked.

“I have a friend,” he began and gave a little wince. “Acquaintance. Umm, I know someone who’s in a German prison right now, and he’s going to be a big help to me and my business partner. All you need to do is go in and give him a message.”

“What sort of message?”

“‘Winter’s coming soon. Next week, I imagine.’ Has to be that, verbatim; don’t say anything about who sent you or why. I’ve already got the meeting and everything set up, you just need to go visit him and give him that message.”

“What does that mean?” you asked.

James had hesitated for a moment, tapping his metal fingers against the arm of his chair. “It’s better if you didn’t know,” he said. “I need as little people involved here as possible. I would go in and give him the message myself, but I’m kind-of a wanted man myself. Will you help us?”

James had been thorough in setting up the meeting, even going as far as purchasing a gently-used set of rings for you to wear. He told you that this man, Helmut Zemo, had been in prison for seven years for a variety of things, the heftiest being murder. “He was justified, though,” James said, and you pretended not to notice his small “I guess.”

The guard said something into his radio unit, and you caught enough of it to know that he was approving you to enter. You knew nothing about this Helmut Zemo other than what James had told you, only the bare basics. Sokovian, had a family that was killed at the same time as yours. According to James, Zemo wasn’t dangerous. He would be more confused than anything, he told you. But, no matter what Zemo did, if he denied he had in you no right, you had to keep with it and deliver the message in a natural way. You were his wife, and you were happy to see him.

The light flicked on over the bed, and Zemo gave a quiet grunt of disdain. It was four in the afternoon, and he always asked for the light to be off. Four was when other prisoners were granted visitation, but he had nobody. Stupid light must have accidentally been triggered.

“Zemo!” he heard a guard call from down the hall, and he pulled himself from bed and approached the plexiglass divider that separated him from freedom. “I thought you said you don’t have a wife!”

“I don’t!” Zemo called back, an irritated edge in his voice.

He finally saw the guard turn the corner and approach, and his eyes instantly fixed on the girl that was trailing behind him. She was young, much, much younger than him, and strikingly beautiful. Maybe it was the seven years in jail, but he could have sworn that he was looking at an angel. She seemed nervous, and Helmut focused his gaze on the rings on her left hand. Before he could speak up and correct the guard that this woman wasn’t his wife, she spoke up. “My God,” she whispered in a soft English, her voice heavy with a familiar Sokovian accent. “Helmut, you look… Tired, my love.”

Zemo tried to gauge the woman. She seemed too green to be an assassin, so at least that was something. And she knew his name. How did she know his name? “I am tired, mein lieber,” he sighed, and he pressed his palms up against the glass. She stepped closer and did the same, laying her hands just opposite his, and he examined her rings. Small, simple, unassuming. Props. “You’re so beautiful.”

You gave a small laugh, one that you hoped sounded like a woman whose husband had complimented her. Did he really mean it? Or had he caught onto the act as well? He seemed smart, you had to admit. And he was handsome too. Though his eyes were dull and dark with exhaustion, they were still a lovely brown. His hair was messy but showed hints of ginger in the dark locks, and his scruffy facial hair accented his soft jaw. However exhausted he was, he was still quite the looker. And he was the first full-blooded Sokovian that you had willingly met since the incident. “Can I hold him?” you asked the guard, lowering your voice and tightening your throat to try to feign emotion. “Please?”

The guard blinked slowly, and he nodded. He translated the request through his radio, and, just a moment later, there was the loud buzz as the cell door was unlocked, and it slowly creaked open. You wasted no time in meeting Zemo at the door and throwing your arms around him, and he held you with the strength of a thousand men as you dug your face into his neck. He shushed you gently, stroking your back, and he pressed his mouth to your temple in a fake kiss. “Why’re you here?” he mumbled through gritted teeth, praying the guard hadn’t noticed it. “Who are you?”

“I missed you,” you whimpered into his neck. “I’m sorry, Helmut, but I moved to the States, and I couldn’t exactly tell people who I was or who you were or why I was living in New York alone but married--”

Zemo moved his lips from your temple to your mouth, and he captured you in a slow and deliberate kiss. Whatever game you were playing, he would join. What’s a bit of fun? Anyway, seven years was a long time to not even touch a woman. If he wanted to kiss you, you would let him. According to the stories James had told you about his family, you figured that he deserved it.

You finally pulled out of the kiss and embraced the man once more, and you mumbled, “It’s so cold in here, Helmut. How do you manage?”

“I make do, mein lieber,” Zemo said. “At least you’re here to keep me warm now.”

“Not for very long,” you said softly. Then, you looked over your shoulder at the guard, and you asked, “Ten minutes, yes?”

The guard nodded silently, and you turned back to Zemo. “Well,” you started, breaking away from him and passing your hand over your cheek to wipe up (nonexistent) tears. “Show me your room.”

Zemo gave a small smile and took your hand, the one with the rings, and you pulled you into the cell. You weren’t lying; it was awfully cold. The room was devoid of much of anything, just the bed and a small sink and toilet in the corner. Books were stacked up beside the bed, all dog-eared and torn at the corners, and a small woven mat was in front of the bed.

“You’ve taken good care of them,” Zemo said suddenly, and you looked away from the stack of books to see him holding your hand up to see the rings. “I figured you wouldn’t even wear them after…”

“What makes you think that?” you asked gently. “I married you, I’d never pretend I didn’t.”

“I love you,” Zemo said quickly, nearly interrupting your sentence. “I missed you.”

You nodded silently, and Zemo tugged you into him once more. His arms were tight around your waist, his hand stroking up and down your back, and he laid a small kiss on your neck. Zemo kept his mouth at your pulse point for long enough to gauge just how fast your heart was beating, and he nodded to himself. A spy of some sort. But what did you want?

You looked at the glass wall of the cell, and you saw that the guard had stepped away, and suddenly every piece of James’ plan fell into place in your mind. Like James said, he couldn’t give Zemo the message himself, and it would be weird for someone like James’ partner to come visit Zemo in prison, especially after seven years of absolutely nobody, so someone else would have to do. You, a young Sokovian girl, Zemo’s wife, made sense. But after seven years, what wouldn’t make sense was if the married couple’s first meeting was just a conversation through a wall. No, the only way it made sense was if it was a conjugal visit.

Fuck.

Apparently, Zemo had caught onto this quicker than you had. His mouth on your neck pulled away in exchange for your lips, his hands captured your waist, and he tugged you fully into him so that your bodies were flushed together. Your anxiety made a quick squeak fall from your mouth, and you covered it with a giggle; you were sure that, even though the guard was gone, you were still being watched. “Seven years hasn’t dulled your charms, so it seems,” you said, and Zemo laughed.

“Of course not,” he chuckled. His hands slid up your body, carefully delving under your shirt, and he added, “I haven’t seen you in so long, it’s almost like I’m starting from the beginning.” He pulled out of the kiss, and you saw his eyes canvasing you, and he said, “My name’s Helmut. And yours, beautiful lady?”

“Goodness,” you huffed. “You’ve already married me, silly.”

“Indulge me, mein lieber,” Zemo said. Even though it was an act for the security cameras, he truly wanted to know your name. Maybe, with that, he could piece together why you were there. “Won’t you play my little game?”

You rolled your eyes, but played along. You told him your name, and he gave you a tight smile. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he said gently, and you could see that he really meant it. Married or not, you could tell that Zemo-- Helmut-- was grateful for your presence. “Can I offer you a dance, mein lieber?”

You pressed your arms around his neck and laid your head on his chest, and he squeezed you in a tight hug. Softly, he began to hum something in your ear, only for the two of you to hear, and he sighed as the two of you began to sway to his humming.

“Who are you?” he whispered, planting a kiss on the side of your face. “Who sent you?”

You swallowed thickly. You remembered that James had instructed you not to speak of him, and you mumbled, “I can’t imagine how it must feel to be here.”

“What are you talking about?” Zemo snarled, and he pushed his leg in-between yours as an “explanation” for the sudden change in temper. “I asked who you are.”

“Helmut, you have to trust me,” you whispered quickly.

“Trust?” he huffed. “You come in here, lying about yourself, and ask me to trust you? You, the bitch who claims to be my wife? That’s a big ask, sweetheart.”

“I--” you began. You really didn’t want to anger James by breaking from the meticulous plan he had made up, but you were more afraid of the man between your legs at the moment. He was a more urgent threat. You took fistfuls of Zemo’s off-ginger hair and pulled him closer, pressing your forehead against his, and you whispered, “A man came to my apartment two days ago. He said he needed my help, and he told me to come here and deliver a message.”

To the outside onlooker, when Zemo put his hand on your throat, it might have looked innocent. Not truly innocent, but certainly harmless. But it scared you shitless. His fingers were strong, and his thumb dug straight into your windpipe. It hurt, and your throat immediately began to burn with the urge for breath. “I’ll ask again,” he said easily. His eyes were a new sort of dark, not by exhaustion or confusion or arousal, but by rage. “Who sent you here?”

“I don’t know who he is,” you said quickly. “I only know his first name.”

“Which is?”

“James,” you choked out. “Light eyes, dark hair, prosthetic arm.”

Zemo’s grip loosened for only a moment, but then his thumb went back to its place. “He sent you to give me a message, didn’t he?” he asked. “About the winter. What did he say?”

You felt lightheaded, but you tried to stand your ground. “It comes in a week,” you said quickly. “Please let go of me.”

“Why you?” Zemo asked. “Of everyone in the world, why you?”

“My mother was killed in Sokovia,” you said, and fought back the urge to gag. “I only found out because I heard her name on the radio. Her apartment is still there, and James promised me that he could bypass the military blockade and get me there to say goodbye.”

Zemo’s hand fell slack around your throat, then off altogether. He took a small step back, and his eyes fell to the floor as his brain whirred to life. “He lied to you,” Zemo said carefully. “There’s nothing left. Not when I last went, and certainly not now.”

Your heart sank, and you pressed your hand to your neck, right where he had been. “You’re lying,” you said. “Th-There has to be something there.”

“That military blockade is there to keep people from settling on the land,” Zemo said. “Most of it was taken by surrounding countries, but the worst of it was… Is, just barren land. There’s nothing left for you to mourn.”

“How do you know?” you sniffled. “You’ve been in prison for nearly a decade.”

“Because I was there,” Zemo said. “My wife, son, and father were killed there. You wasted your time coming here; James can’t do anything for you.”

You hesitated for a second, then said, “But you can, right?”

Zemo froze. It was momentary, and you wouldn’t have noticed it if you yourself hadn’t said the words that triggered it, but he let out a heavy breath and resumed with the close-quarters dancing, his grip suddenly gentle again. “What makes you think that, mein lieber?”

“I’m not stupid,” you chuckled lightly. “I was young when I lived in Sokovia, but I recognized you when I saw you. Baron Helmut Zemo, locked up in a German prison; how aristocratic is that?”

“I have no power anymore,” Zemo mumbled. Sometimes, he nearly forgot his lineage, especially since the country he served didn’t exist anymore past his memories. “I cannot do anything.”

“Right,” you whispered slowly. “I figured as much... Who is James?”

“A man that I used to know,” Zemo said. “A man that I’ve never been friendly with, which is why I’m surprised that he would seek me out. He didn’t say why he was coming, did he?”

You shook your head, and Zemo laughed humourlessly. “Of course he didn’t,” he mused. “Shouldn’t have expected that… Next week? Guess I have to keep you here, make sure I stay plenty warm, huh?”

“I wish,” you chuckled. “You are rather cute, Helmut.”

Helmut Zemo laughed, the tops of his cheeks going pink. “And you tease me about my charms,” he said, his voice finally above a whisper; suddenly, the act of estranged husband and wife was back. You could easily pass off the bought of anger and crying as Helmut being too passionate, as Sokovians tended to be. “If you don’t watch yourself, Y/N, I might have to marry you all over again.”

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sentinelpri · 3 years

Text

Intervention, Baby

Unlike many of his Autobot counterparts, Prowl adored organics- especially the ones on earth, whether that be the plants, animals, or humans.

His favorite, though? You. You by far.

After arriving on earth, Prowl had become obsessed with people watching, usually taking long strolls around the city or going to public parks to watch how humans lived their daily lives. Something about the human species by itself was captivating, but when he’d seen you for the first time, (e/c) eyes and (h/l) (h/c) hair shining under the bright sun as you walked into the local flower shop, he had been completely and utterly enthralled. He’d known that he was supposed to avoid interactions with humans that weren’t necessary according to Prime, but he hadn’t been able to help himself that day. So, he’d gone into the flower shop and sparked a conversation with you to figure out exactly what it was that had him so interested; what it was about you that was so different than the other humans he watched.

You had just moved to Detroit from your hometown for a new job, which explained why he hadn’t seen you before that, and as he’d talked to you that day, he became more and more intrigued. You’d started renting a house nearby, with your very own flower garden, which you showed him that day. He hadn’t been able to tell you much at the time about Cybertron for security reasons, but what he did tell you about himself, you listened to intently. You were a great listener, with kind eyes and a bright smile that made his spark stop at times.

Prowl had been a cautious bot. Whatever caution he had maintained since being on earth had flown out the window with you, though, as he fell quickly, often sneaking away from the Autobots to spend time with you at your house or visit you at your job. A strong friendship was quickly formed, and with how much he was gone, his teammates quickly became suspicious.

It started with questions, the others asking where he was all the time and why he was suddenly so interested in stopping by flower and gardening shops whenever they were out. Naturally, Optimus was the first to figure it out, asking if he’d met someone and then leaving the subject alone when Prowl avoided the subject. However, Bumblebee was the next to catch on, and he had no sense of personal boundaries, so he dragged Bulkhead along to follow him to your house. While it wasn’t the best first impression, that was how you met Bumblebee and Bulkhead, and eventually Optimus and Ratchet as well- since the secret was out in the open now and no one seemed to disapprove of you, Prowl had started bringing you around the Autobot base.

The rest was history, but the more Prowl developed his relationship with you, the more fearful he became for the future. He was a wise and emotionally mature bot, he figured, but he didn’t know how to handle his feelings for you. He had fallen in love. He was cybertronian, you were human, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to initiate anything- not that he thought you returned the feelings anyways. No, you were too pure and sweet, kind and beautiful, fragile and soft. He feared hurting you most of the time. He feared falling deeper. He feared starting something he couldn’t finish and leaving you hurt in the end, but each day he spent with you only made it worse.

Why did he love you? Why couldn’t he have fallen for another Autobot? Why a human? The thoughts plagued his processor constantly, but when you reached over to grab one of his digits and pull him along to show him something in your garden or smiled up at him, he couldn’t help it. You were so soft and delicate, but you still treated him like you would anyone else. You weren’t scared of him, you always offered a listening ear when he needed it, and you opened up to him in return.

Warm, bright, radiant- Prowl felt like you were all of the things that he wasn’t, and as he returned to base and walked into the main room, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Spending time with you seemed exhausting nowadays. He always left with a troubled processor and an uneasy feeling. Was it right to keep seeing you when he knew it wouldn’t go anywhere? Would his unresolved feelings get in the way of your friendship? What was he to do at this point? As much as he’d tried to simply make the feelings go away, he couldn’t; couldn’t develop an interest in anyone else, couldn’t think of anything he didn’t like about you to kill his attraction, couldn’t will it away. Nothing worked, so he drowned himself in it, and while he would have loved to sulk for a little bit, his attention was captured by his team.

He’d walked into... Something, though he wasn’t quite sure what that something was yet. His entire team was crowded onto the living room couch, silent, staring up at him. Seeing them all in one room at the same time was rare when they weren’t sharing energon or working against the Decepticons, but seeing them all in one room and quiet? Something was wrong.

“Where did you just come from, Prowl?” Bumblebee, who was sitting in the middle of the couch with Bulkhead to his right, crossed his arms as he asked the oddly accusatory question and leaned forward.

“(y/n)’s, why?” Prowl answered. He was so uneasy that he found himself shifting his weight from one pede to the other and averting his gaze. While he wasn’t normally avoidant like that, when it came to you, he couldn’t help how nervous he got.

“Don’t worry about it, but-” Bulkhead started, letting out a nervous chuckle.

The atmosphere was tense and awkward. Optimus Prime, next to Bulkhead on the edge of the couch, wouldn’t even look at him. Meanwhile, Ratchet, who was on the other side of Bumblebee, appeared to be growing increasingly agitated with each second that passed.

“What is the meaning of this?” Prowl finally demanded, which made Bumblebee stand up and point right at him with a huge grin.

“Intervention, baby!” The yellow bot cheered.

“Intervention? I’m not abusing substances if that’s what you’re-”

“No, no, that’s not what we’re getting at, you bucket of bolts!” Ratchet groaned and face-palmed. “We’re here to talk about you and (y/n)!”

There were two ways this could go, and Prowl wasn’t sure which one he hated more.

One, his team could be concerned about him spending so much time with a human who had nothing to do with their cause. It was a valid concern and he knew it- spending so much time with you put you in at risk of getting involved with the Decepticons like Sari, and unlike Sari, you had no key or Cyber-organic powers to protect you. You were simply human, and it wasn’t fair to you to put you in danger the way he was. But he was selfish.

Two, his team could be concerned about his feelings for you. Whether for the aforementioned reasons or because they had to watch the two of you interact all the time, he wasn’t sure, but it would make sense. He certainly hadn’t expected them to call an intervention over either issue, though, so all he could do was stand there.

They were staring at him.

It was... Embarrassing, to say the least.

“I don’t see why this would be considered even remotely appropriate- And Optimus, Ratchet,” Prowl glared at the two older bots, knowing damn well that they knew better than to do this to him. “I expect it from these two, but you? I thought you were more mature than this, but I see I was mistaken.”

“Don’t come at us with your maturity spiel when you can’t even mech up enough to tell (y/n) your true feelings,” Ratchet spat.

“Ratchet, you could have phrased that with a bit more tact, but I do believe you are correct,” Optimus agreed with a small nod and offered a smile, glancing at Ratchet and then at Prowl. “While we don’t have the right to dictate what you do, Prowl, it’s become obvious to everybot what’s going on, and... We all support you. You should be honest with (y/n) and tell her the truth. Love is something that should be appreciated and cherished, not hidden away.”

“Yeah! Plus, it hurts to watch you two dance around each other when it’s so obvious what’s going on,” Bumblebee argued. “She likes you back-”

“No, she doesn’t, and even if she did, how would this work?” Prowl raised his voice without meaning to, and the moment he heard how loud his volume was, he paused to take a deep breath and reflect. His team had good intentions, they wanted him to be happy and enjoy a relationship for once, but he was so scared. Why couldn’t they leave him alone? With a sigh, he spoke again, not daring to look at any of his friends. “I’m Cybertronian and she’s organic, and we could have to go back to Cybertron any day now- or, even worse, the Decepticons could kill us. Would it not be selfish of me to confess my feelings for her, start a relationship, and then leave or die? Assuming that she wants anything to do with me, that is.”

“Listen, I get where you’re coming from, but you’ve heard the saying here on earth that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, haven’t you? (y/n) would be more upset if you left or died without telling her the truth than she would be if you told her beforehand. No matter what happens in the end, at least she’d have some closure that way, because she does love you too,” Bulkhead insisted.

“No, she doesn’t,” Prowl mumbled, not having any other defense. Did he think you loved him like that? No, but did he have definite proof that you didn’t? Also no, so he was left without a solid defense, but too stubborn to concede to his friends’ (valid) points. “You’re wrong.”

“Yeah she does, dude, you’re just wrong,” Bumblebee walked over to him and put a servo on his shoulder, meeting his optics, uncharacteristically intense- borderline angry. “How can you even know if you haven’t talked to her about it?”

“How can you know?” Prowl defended and jabbed a digit into the younger bot’s chest plate. The two continued to stare each other down for a few moments before Bee finally sighed and looked away.

“Because I’ve talked to her about it.”

“...Oh. I see,” The black and gold bot took a step back and fidgeted with his servos. He had never expected for you to confide in Bumblebee about such a matter, but then again... Aside from Prowl himself, Bumblebee was your best friend and always had been since he’d started bringing you around. The two of you were similar; innocent, kindred souls with similar interests. Unlike Prowl, the yellow bot brought out your more energetic, fun side, making you laugh constantly, but... He hadn’t been aware of the fact that Bumblebee was a confidant for you, too. Part of him was jealous, but he tried to shove that down with a tense swallow. “I’m going to take my leave, then.”

“That’s what I thought,” The smaller bot smirked, earning a glare from Prowl in return.

“Get bent.”

That entire night and the day after were spent locked in his room reflecting upon everything; his feelings, you, the advice that his teammates had given him during their little “intervention”, the potential consequences of what he was about to do.

Whether he wanted to or not, he knew that he needed to confess. What if one of you died without ever saying anything? What if he went back to Cybertron without ever having the chance to tell you the truth and regretted it? What if you had to leave Detroit someday? It was too big of a problem to leave unresolved given how chaotic and unpredictable your lives were, even if he was scared of what could happen. Plus, half the battle was you loving him back, and if Bumblebee told the truth the day prior, you already did.

So, Prowl sat on your roof. Waiting. You were outside for whatever reason despite it being midnight on a Tuesday in human time, laying in your backyard and admiring your flowers. Since it was a warm fall, they were growing quite well, your pumpkin crop in particular thriving. He’d been watching you for a while; (s/c) skin glowing as the moonlight shone upon your body, (f/c) shorts and a black sleepshirt hugging your frame. Your (e/c) eyes were currently trained on your rosebush, though he was sure you had noticed his presence- even though he wasn’t visible behind your chimney, you had an amazing knack for being able to feel when he was there, visible or not.

“(y/n)?” The Autobot finally spoke, emerging from his hiding place and jumping down into your backyard to stand next to where you lay.

You sat up to look at him with a tired smile. It was late and you had work tomorrow... Something must’ve been on your mind, too. Perhaps the two of you were in sync with your recent concerns.

“Hey, Prowl, you’re up late. Why don’t you lay with me?” Unable to say no to you, Prowl did just that, joining you on the grass and laying with his back on the ground. The stars that littered the sky were fogged up by the city lights, but while he normally would’ve been agitated by it, you were better to stare at, so he didn’t mind too much. “You sat on my roof for a while and didn’t even talk to me. What’s keeping you?”

“Ah, it’s nothing, I just-” The ninjabot started, close to denying everything flat out and ignoring the subject of his feelings yet again before realizing that’s what the problem was. He couldn’t open up to you and it was making everything convoluted, so with a sharp breath, he gathered all of his willpower and spoke to you again. “No, you know what? I’m tired of this.”

“What?” You looked shocked at the sound of his agitated tone, eyebrows furrowing together as you sat up and glanced at him, making him sit up as well. Your (e/c) eyes burned into his ocean optics in that moment, and a brief silence washed over the two of you before he spoke again.

“I’m tired of us hiding from each other,” Unable to help himself, Prowl leaned closer to you and reached over to rest a servo on one of your hands. “Be honest, what are your feelings towards me?”

You stopped, your breath visibly catching in your throat. The black and gold bot could immediately tell you were nervous, terrible at hiding your negative emotions like you had been since he’d met you, but he let you have as much time as you needed.

“Prowl, it’s a bit sudden for you to ask something like that out of nowhere. You know we’re friends-” You started, but when you looked closer at his face, you gave him a defeated sigh that made him realize; you knew he knew. “Who told you?”

“So it’s true,” He stated, holding your hand tightly and giving a soft frown. Your face was painted with the same fear and anxiety that he’d felt over loving you for so long now.

Part of him was happy that you loved him back. The other part almost wished you didn’t, wished you could live your life happy and blissfully unaware to avoid the risk of getting your heart broken.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized.

“What do you have to be sorry for, sweetspark?” Prowl asked, tone gentle as he used his spare hand to caress your cheek and leaned in to rest his helm against yours. “I’d be a fool not to reciprocate, but I want to hear it for myself before I do anything. Tell me how you feel.”

“I’m in love with you, Prowl,” You admitted. A couple of tears welled up in your eyes and flowed down your cheeks, those of which Prowl wiped away with his thumb. “I’ve been captivated since the moment I saw you, and I never planned on telling you. I’m afraid of you getting attached to me and not being able to handle it if we ever have to separate because I’m sure there will be a day when you have to go back to your home planet. You can’t stay forever, and I can’t go with you.”

“I feel the same way... I love you too, (y/n)- so much that I don’t think you understand. I held off because I fear having to leave you someday, but I realized that we should take advantage of what time we have left and try our best to make this work,” In between his words, you let out what he assumed was a sigh of relief, making him do the same. Prowl quickly felt the weight of his anxieties leaving his chest and shoulders. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your plump, warm lips, then withdrew to press a few more against your cheeks and forehead. You giggled; a sound he would listen to for the rest of his life if he could. “I think we’ll be alright in the end.”

“I...” You grinned and leaned into him with another laugh. “I think so, too. But who told you?”

“That’s... Quite the story. You see, yesterday afternoon, I got back to the base after visiting you and...”

Prowl smiled as well as he started his story. Things were complicated, and he knew this was risky, but you wrapping an arm around one of his and gripping his hand made him realize just how worth it you were.

Maybe that intervention hadn’t been too bad of an idea after all.

232 notes · View notes

bluecookies02 · 3 years

Text

Dabi x Reader- I Run To You /nsfw/

warnings: praise/degradation, sex oriented quirk?(meaning succubus-ish!Reader), choking, overstimulation, squirting, pinning/slightly obsessed reader.

The reader becomes a villain-->brief mentions of blood, mentions of Touya's "death".

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Maybe you're supposed to feel some sort of remorse when you see your childhood friend on the screen, blue flames hugging every corner of the building he's in, the poor glass shattering and melting as the reporters hurriedly fly around to catch every evidence and information they can.

You couldn't see much of his face, but the way he carried himself and the exact patterns of his scarred arm were enough for her. You only needed one glance.

It took a few months for you to wrap your head around it. Trying to push down the anger and grief by finding excuses for whatever he's doing. You became obsessed though, super fixated on every last trail of him you can find.

Years went by fast. Gaining the trust of other villains was fairly easy when you share the same hatred for the heroes. It brings you a sense of belonging and they listen. They listen and feel your anger, understand loss better than anyone else you tried to talk to before. You don't receive stupid condolences and bullshit like "it gets better" or "that's what faith had in store for you". You get raw emotion, telling you exactly what you yearned to hear, finally knowing that you're not crazy and that there are people who have enough braincells to see through the terrible facades the society has been smearing over everybody's eyes.

It's hard at first, watching blood and flesh rip through the air you breathe as your shoes leave red trails that follow your step...until they don't...they get mixed and lost and the footprints you once knew were yours look foreign, you don't know where you came from, you just know where you're headed.

You come back to your small apartment almost every night, writing down and scribbling each piece of information before it has the chance to be forgotten, intent on not letting a single detail slip.

You find it bizarre. You wanted to be a hero. For as long as your memory goes, you admired and glorified the kind and selfless faces you saw on TV, and in your own house.

He wanted to be a hero too? Even more than you. You're close, just a handful of months and you'd earn yourself a place. You know it.

Would he remember you?

Your pen breaks under the pressure of your palm, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You stack the notebooks neatly, locking your door before plopping on your pillow.

All of this for a boy...how silly of you...Would he be happy to have someone familiar next to him?

You feel lonely...You miss the comfort of the past and you wonder if he does too. Did he even like you back then? You dig for every memory of him smiling at you, gracing your hand while the two of you played the games on his computer.

Then your eyes wander to the pictures on your wall, collages of newspapers with his face on it. He aged like fine wine. Strong and handsome. His hands are something you can't look away from, his long fingers keeping you in a trance while you snuggle under your blanket, slipping your hand in your shorts. Just this time.

You bend your legs at your knees, head craned to look at the pictures on your walls, mouth loosely open. You take your time working your clit, imagining how he would do it. How he would take his time exploring you after not seeing you for so long.

Your ass bucks off the bed a little, humping against your fingers, almost dipping into your greedy pussy, ghosting over the slicked up hole and spreading the nice coat of the slimy wetness across your folds.

Would he be good at eating you out? Stretching his scarred jaw to fit his mouth over your cunt and lap at it, sticking his tongue out as far as it can go.

You stretch your shorts to fit your hand in, pressing two fingers on each side of the sensitive nub, using your other hand to flick at the exposed pearl. It almost burns from the pressure, too sensitive when it's not hidden under the thin layer.

What if he had his tongue pierced? Imagining the metal on you, swirling over every inch, digging into you as it bumps your clit. You can't make yourself wait anymore, pulling your shorts down and pressing your knees to your tummy. Like he's there in the room, giving him a perfect view of your dripping hole, untouched and clenching around nothing as you trail your finger across it.

You slip two of them in, too horny to drag it out anymore, you start pumping them in and out of your pussy, convulsing and shivering each time you hit that spot while you arch off the bed. Your other hand works your clit, chasing the trashing of your hips while your drenched cunt pools around your fingers, the sound making you high. It's wet and erotic, your palm slamming against your other hand, the rhythm on your clit rushed and messy, interrupting the pace you need.

You imagine his skilled fingers on you again, precisely circling your swollen nub as he stuffs you with his cock, his hot breath on your neck while his dyed hair tickles your face, wet kisses adoring your skin as he's about to stuff you full of his cum, press your legs to your stomach until they feel like they're gonna break. He'd try to go deeper than possible, holding your neck so that he can kiss you properly as your bodies rock the bed.

He'd cum first, seconds before you just to make sure that you milk every last drop as you cum and pulse around his shaft, your pussy gripping and sucking him in while he still balls deep inside you, groaning into your mouth.

The sensation of him shaking against you sends you over the edge, your breath being knocked out of you as your thighs flex and clench together, squeezing your hands and trapping them in place.

You're gasping for breath, eyes closing and ears buzzing from your high, light thrust against your clit coming to a stop as you slowly calm down.

Bliss washes over you as you lay there for a bit, chest rising and falling, your body completely relaxed.

You hope it'll all turn out to be worth it and joining the League would just be another step from many to go. Yet you still hope that your feelings were mutual back then. You experience loss too early in your teen years and a lot has changed since. But one thing was constant, you never stop loving someone even after they're gone, and Touya is the biggest proof of that.

You still had his books, pens, shirts and all of the notes the two of you passed around during dinners or classes...and you held onto them long before you found out he was still somewhere out there.

He was stoic and cold most of the time, his affections looked calculated, keeping you on the line throughout the whole friendship, not letting the two of you slip into a relationship. Pausing his flirting as soon as you seemed to get your hopes up.

If not a relationship, you want closure, and you want him, in any form you can have him.

_______________

Slowly you wake up to a pattern of knocks on your bedside table, not having the time to panic or get scared as you're slipping away from your dreams.

When you finally do see a tall white-haired man next to your bed, you raise your hands up in defense, heart skipping beats and toes curling as you back away to the headboard.

"Quiet a stalker aren't you?" Red eyes pierce through you, your quirk activating for a split second until he grabs a hold of your ankle with four fingers.

"You know what the fifth one does...so behave nicely, I'm not here to kill you" You look around the room, avoiding the uncomfortable gaze of the leader.

The shame of your interior upsetting you more than the initial fear of getting murdered.

"How did you get in?" Your locks are too good to be broken down, your alarm system expensive(but stolen) and working perfectly.

A purple portal flashes in the middle of the room. Well not so perfectly, you figure.

"I won't snitch on your obsession cause I couldn't care less, I want you in the League. Pack your shit or run." Your eyes are wide open, watching as the man slips into a portal and disappears, the purple mist still glowing in front of you.

You hurriedly grab a small suitcase, stuffing everything you know is important, already having some luggage packed in case you had to move fast for whatever reason. It comes in handy being organized.

You hide the newspapers you took off your walls, slipping them between your clothes and zipping the suitcase. First impression matters, so you risk wasting a bit of time to pick out an outfit, making yourself look presentable before you slip into a mellow cloud, dragging your stuff with you.

Your heart is pounding, blood rushing to the tips of your ears and the pads of your fingers, pulsing and warming you up.

The leader greets you again, grinning as he leads you to a room, telling you to make yourself at home.

"I wanted to give you a roommate, but that would be distracting" he teases, his teeth still showing as he closes the door behind you. The room is warm and surprisingly not messy at all. Yes, some things are carelessly tossed on the bed or draped over the chair but everything else is neat. You figure out fairly quickly that it was probably occasionally used.

You take your time to explore the room, piling up the stuff that wasn't yours in one corner of it. You unpack one of your suitcases and half of the other, cursing yourself for bringing the evidence of your little plan.

You don't know why you brought it, it seemed useless after you found out where you're going, but you guess it's for sentimental reasons. You didn't plan for it to happen so fast. But they were indeed a bit low on numbers after recent attacks so they must've gotten impatient and started seeking out more people.

You did do everything in your power to get noticed so you do want to take some credit. You smoothen out the sheets before you sit on the bed, thighs rubbing together from nervousness.

Is he on a mission?

How can you play it cool?

What's his favorite food now?

What are his interests?

Does anything make him particularly happy...maybe a hobby?

Should you try using your quirk to lure him in?

Does he know you exist?

Will he recognize you?

Would he remember you even after you tell him?

Maybe you shouldn't tell him.

You stop before you get too deep in your thoughts, deciding that you should make yourself comfortable. It's very likely that he's not there anyways, and he might not even show up soon, sitting there all alone is just making you more anxious.

You decide to leave the room, curious to meet other members that you heard in the hallways a few minutes ago. They were all headed to the same place, so you decided to go to what you figured was the living room.

The smell of alcohol got stronger, and the small giggles and banter got louder. You fixed your clothes one last time before opening the door, seeing the all too familiar faces in the room.

A blonde-haired girl ran to you, almost tumbling them both to the floor as she giggled excitedly.

"I was dying for more girls in this dump, they all stink" she whined, sniffing your shirt. She was grabbed by the collar by the boss, his pinkie up as the girl huffed.

_________________

So that's exactly how you met everyone, sitting on the bar as you silently wished the last member showed any desire in greeting you. He was sprawled out on the sofa in the far end of the room, a beer in hand and a cigarette in his mouth. You've never seen someone so unapproachable before, and it had to be him of all people.

Yet you didn't take it to heart. He was always like this...well minus the alcohol. New people didn't phase him, even more, he hated new. You're not worthy of his time until he deems you as so and you figure he never met "you" before.

But you do glance at him. The whole fucking night, chatting with others but always slipping and almost getting caught. They pointed it out but you just brushed it off as being curious to why he doesn't look like he's enjoying himself.

Even tho, you can practically feel his gaze on your back each time you turn away, feeling flustered you sip on your drink through the night, blushing when you catch him averting his gaze.

He is intrigued, to say the least. The way you move and talk is intoxicating, your voice feeling like something he had forgotten a long time ago. It reminds him of his past and it makes him fairly angry...but it brings some form of comfort he didn't feel in a while. He'll be selfish enough to indulge himself.

And he does. Months. Seeping into years.

________________

Missions are exhausting, so far you've been on more than you could bring yourself to count. On the run for weeks with little to no rest wasn't the luxurious lifestyle younger you dreamed about.

The comfort of the not so soft bed never felt more heavenly than now. A cheap motel wasn't your form of rest either, but you had to deal, hopping in for a not so relaxing shower with water that jumped from freezing to burning hot every second, tho it did an amazing job on easing the coil in your stomach.

Your quirk is taking a toll on you, control over it fading away as soon as you are laying clean and fresh on the bed. Too much...You were working too much and just teasing the victims never seemed to satiate your quirks' hunger. You second guess your path a lot, especially when you end up alone and exhausted, but you never think about quitting...as weird as that feels. It has its perks you guess...

Him being your partner wasn't one of them. He's practically eating you up, showing off in front of you but ignoring you all the same. You feel like crying from frustration, huffing to yourself before digging into your backpack and grabbing your small toy. It's been a few weeks since you could indulge yourself, the tension of your muscles painful.

Tears are almost freely rolling down your cheeks, your quirk making you feel dizzy as you slip the toy against your clit.

His voice is rough and quiet in your head, the conversations you had playing on repeat, searching for anything that you might've missed.

Every time you thought of one, it was followed by a memory of him pushing you away, smirking before going to do his own thing. He always had a smart mouth, flirting with you but making sure to step right off when he feels like he's dancing on that line.

You bit back equally though, returning the snarky comments and putting up a tough facade all while you tried to cling onto every thread of hope he threw your way.

He was almost sure he heard you though, his real name followed by a muffled cough as you tried your hardest to drown it with small talk. A moment of pure joy after you both made it out alive and safe made you let your guard down.

And when he called off the rest of the mission for the day out of nowhere, you were almost sure too.

But he isn't here now. He didn't follow you, and you're certainly all alone in this empty room. He'll come around...or he'll leave in the middle of the night. You wouldn't be able to blame him for either.

He's in the room right next to you, his fist wrapped tightly around his cock and his eyes squinted shut. He knows exactly who you remind him of, knows exactly what he felt as soon as you joined. You were always similar to her.

Awfully similar.

He knows.

It doesn't feel fair. Not to you or him. But he can't think. He can't focus and he can't stop himself from moaning out your name as his cock slicks up with pre-cum, his other going to his balls and squeezing them lightly.

He feels drunk, even though he didn't drink...well more than the usual amount... his body is burning like it's on fire...which isn't a foreign feeling to him. But it's different, the blood in his veins is warm, surging to the tips of his hands and toes as he fucks into his own fist. He's almost in a haze, fighting the urge to get up and slam your door open. If he runs away now, you'll be safer, maybe quit the League if he's lucky.

But he can't win, messily pulling his pants up and slipping on his shoes, grabbing your door handle in less than a blink as he tries to go back one last time. He has a primal need that pulls him towards you, even when he's not in the same room, it urges him to reach out and chase you, grip on the last straw of sanity and happiness that happens to be you.

Your toy buzzes faintly, sweat gracing your body while you so desperately try to cum. You're too sad and it doesn't help in reaching your high at all, but if you don't do it you feel like you might explode. He knows and he doesn't want you. You wasted your life away. You deserve it for being a creep.

He opens the door cautiously, feeling his cock pulse against the loose buckle. The lamp highlights your tear-stained cheeks and it's criminally hot, illegal even, making his toes curl.

You notice him immediately, dropping the toy on the mattress and using the sheet to cover as best as you can.

"I can't believe you" he whispers.

"Please..." you whine, drinking in the sight of him, wiping the tears with the back of your hand. To leave or to stay...any of the two.You know desire when you see it, praying that he came to quench it.

You're so desperate, craving him, letting go of your quirk and sending hormones to clash and bite against his skin.

You'll lie if you have to, say how you couldn't control it for a second more.

Nothing matters now when he's crawling up your naked body like a starved man, ripping the sheets away, digging his nails into your sides as he ravages your skin like it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

And it probably is, the soft nibbles turning rough and hungry as you struggle to hold one, tangling your hands in his hair. You try to pull on it, yearning to kiss him and pour everything you feel against his lips, even if you're just a fuck, you need him to know that you never forgot him.

He doesn't budge, instead, he makes quick work of his pants, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

The room is too warm for you, the air too thick to breathe. You don't know if you want to stop and talk first....maybe you'll have the chance later?

"This is your fault" he huffs, slipping one hand to his boxers to ease the tension, gripping his cock tightly. He'll have to rush it, groaning when your legs subconsciously twitch and spread to let him fit in between.

"I feel like a fucking teenager" he argues, cupping your pussy and hunching over you.

He's missing a few steps, but seeing you so desperate and aching to cum urges him to help you out first.

"Since when did you start luring me in with your stupid quirk huh? Part of your little plan?" he questions, not letting you answer.

You're shaking your head, trying to mumble how you never tricked him into wanting you, not until this exact moment. But words are not your friend right now.

His eyes pierce through yours, beautiful blue swallowed up by the black of his pupils, half-lidded stare stripping you naked. Bare and vulnerable as your back arches, ghosting his fingers over the right spots and making you moan out a soft "Dabi".

It doesn't sound right on your tongue, and he sees the way it rolls off your lips, strained and dishonest.

His large hand wraps around your throat, holding you in place as he works the small bud, lowering his lips dangerously close, whispering across yours.

"Don't close your eyes." he demands.

It's in his arms reach, and everything is so close to making sense. If you look at him, he might start feeling like himself again. One of his fingers slowly dips inside your warmth, dragging the pad of it gently while he presses his thumb against your clit.

Your soft lips fit on his, your hands pulling him in by the back of his neck. He wants to make it slow and romantic, a nice reunion, yet he lets you slip your tongue in his mouth, deepening the kiss.

He's not holding himself up anymore, his body's weight shifting onto you with each thrust of his finger, the clacking sound of your pussy urging him to move even faster, make you feel even better. He adds in another one, watching you mewl and relax.

"That's fucking right, you wanted it, you fucking planned this, you sick fuck" he muses, catching you off guard. There's something bittersweet in the fact that he'll never be able to leave every little aspect of his life behind.

Before you even try to mumble something out, his lips are slamming against yours, teeth clashing and pulling on your soft skin.

You clench around him, riding his fingers greedily and roaming your hands across his back, fisting and gripping at his shirt.

You can feel the blood on your tongue, hissing when he pulls out only to slap his palm over your clit, causing you to yelp and pull away from the kiss.

"Touya, listen-" He shakes his head, nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

"You little stalker...how much work did you do for this cock huh?" he presses against you for good measure, making you feel his hot length on your cunt.

"You have no fucking idea" you snarl, gaining some of the confidence back, wiggling from beneath him.

He kicks his shoes and boxers all the way off, getting on your bed and pulling you to him.

His shirt is thrown messily to the edge of the bed, his hands pressing on the small of your back so that you can tower over him, trapping him between your thighs as he leans against the headboard.

Your ass slides over his cock, your hips moving slowly while he trails your figure, gliding his warm fingers across your thighs and up to your breasts.

Both of his hands cup the soft mounds, eyes glued to yours as he sticks his tongue out of his mouth. Hypersensitive to every little touch, your body shivers as he takes gentle, almost there swipes across your nipple, moving his arms back to your sides while he slips the sensitive bud in his mouth.

He lowers his thumb to your clit, flicking it slowly while he nips at your tits, biting and sucking marks across the smooth skin. His cock hooks and prods at your hole each time you both sway against each other, teasing you until the knot in your belly becomes too tight, skin crawling with pleasure wherever his body meets yours. He can hear your breath hitching in your throat, grinning while he speeds up the work on your clit, patiently waiting for you to start arching into his hand. He's gonna make you feel so good...convince you that chasing after him was the best decision you made in your life. Make up for all the years you had to deal with everything on your own.

He can feel your pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, making him push up in one slow and deep motion, immediately feeling the spasms of your soft walls gripping tight around his length. You let out a shaky breath, riding out the first high that finally satiates your quirk if only for a bit, making you drop your weight on him.

"There we go...Feeling better?" the ground might swallow you up, but when his hips start to lazily buck into you, you get distracted...You didn't notice how full you are, every inch pushing and stretching perfectly. You realize his finger never really stopped, only slowed down while he built up the agonizing pace he's bouncing you on.

You know your quirk makes you needy, but it makes everyone even more so, the realization that he probably feels like 9 circles of hell causing your hips to move, meeting his thrusts more roughly.

His head moves back to the headboard, eyes glued to yours as you ride him, propping yourself on his shoulders.

He ignored the burn of his body, too intoxicated and keen on making you feel better to focus on his aching cock, getting drowned in pleasure now that he can experience everything clearly.

You're beautiful.... and he wants to break you, make you blabber his name as you cling to him like he's the only one that can make you feel good. And he's gonna make sure he is. He admires you for a moment, cheeks heating up while watches your tits bounce, your eyes averting under his stare.

Your world turns upside down, your head sinking into a soft pillow as your legs are pushed as far as they can go.

You're scared to look away now, his gaze never breaking when he starts plowing in and out of your cunt, slamming his cock all the way in with each thrust.

His feet dig into your mattress, making the cheap bed creak.

You don't know where to put your hands, switching from the sheets to your thighs.

"Dumb little whore...is this all it takes?" he moves lower to you, pressing your spit coated lips against his.

You manage to hook your arms around his neck, swinging your legs behind his back.

He's plowing too deep, his navel bumping against your clit. He can't make himself pull out at all anymore, stuck on humping inside your pussy, slamming and angling his cock until you cry out.

Panting and groaning against your lips, he manages to slip a few curses, hissing when he tries to stop himself from cumming. Your quirk is cruel.

His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you still as he bottoms out completely, feeling his cock throb and spill, your walls tightening up against his shaft as hot cum paints them white.

He's high and addicted, already fucking his cum deeper, making sure it goes into every little crease and pore it can reach. You slip your fingers to your clit, trying to get yourself off while he rocks both of you.

"You wanna cum? Wanna milk my cock again huh? Want me to knock you up?" He's stammering it out, words spilling from his mouth in a rush, feeling the burning of his sensitive head as he picks up the pace again, slapping your hands away.

He raises just a bit, pressing one of his large palms on your belly.

His other hand slips to your clit instead, circling and flicking it to make you reach your high before he fills you up again.

Your whining does nothing to slow him down, his motions too rough and almost painful, your cervix bruising up when he presses even harder on your tummy, making your hips buck off the bed.

"Want you to cum...want you to make a mess..." he urges, a low rumble in his throat.

You can only nod, grabbing both of your thighs and spreading them further for him, your pussy open and on display to him to watch as it hugs his cock, slick and dripping.

You have to close your eyes, too embarrassed as you feel the burning sensation surge through you, eyes watering from the pressure as you finally let go. Your whole body tenses up, a low scream slipping out of your mouth when clear liquid splashes over your thighs and stomach, leaking onto his cock.

"Fucking hell" is all you can hear before he stuffs you full again, this time dropping onto your chest as his knees and feet numb out, hot breath tickling your neck as he moans against your skin.

Your weak hands slump on his back, muscles relaxed and barely working.

Someone is supposed to say something...minutes passing by quickly.

Your tired voice fills the room, a soft "Touya..." reaching his ears as you trail off. You're not sure what you wanted to say, but he holds you a little tighter, heart beating faster at the sound of his name.

He kisses your cheek softly, snuggling into the crook of your neck. "Fucking creep".

#dabi x reader #dabi x reader smut #touya x reader #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x reader lemon #dabi #bnha #mha #touya x reader lemon #touya x reader smut #idk #tags are weird

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hxseok-honee · 3 years

Text

blossom || part 20

blossom [part 20] || "Closure..."

[‘cause all i need is to see you blossom out, blossom out, blossom out]

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : welcome to another 'is this a hobi chapter or is this a yoongi chapter' chapter!!!

taglist [open] :

@deepseavibez @thetrueghostqueen @reddeathraven @dingzerenistall @skyrro @unadulteratedlyunique @ramyagovindraj @itismochirice @wwhseokjin @drpepperobsessed @monamone @thekookiecorner @army-moa75 @burningupp-replies @lele-bb @pb-n-juju @red-kebab @heonsbebe @peachyyoongs @superloverpielamp @marifujioka @butterflylion @heyitsgigi @lochness-butmakeitsexy @miki-chi @cahowlkook @worshiphoseok @lilacdreams-00 @bongsbeforebibles @miriamxsworld @oasiswithmyg @calling-dips-on-j-hope @taeshuworld @x-xjaeminx-x @missmadwoman @somelazysundays @evan-rose @ary002 @unicornbabylover @dr-bitch-bby @squirrelandcrafts @bobrouxsky @peonyplace

When Y/n leaves Gryffindor common room, her bottom lip is quivering. She’s not sure why, and she’s definitely not sure what to do about it. So she just walks. She doesn’t make the active choice to head in a certain direction, but before she knows it she’s heading downstairs toward the kitchens — she only realizes that she’d been walking to Hoseok when she turns the corner toward Hufflepuff common room and finds him there, sitting in the corridor, exactly where he said he’d be.

He looks up when he hears her shoes on the cement, his face lighting up when he sees that it’s her.

“Y/n! I was wondering if you were gonna come find me. That’s actually the reason I told you where I was-- wait, what’s wrong?” The excited rambling dies in his throat when he looks up at her properly and sees her face -- the loss in her eyes, the way she’s pursing her lips to stop them from shaking. She looks so unbelievably sad, but it clearly hasn’t registered in her own mind that she is, because she’s looking at him in confusion now.

“What do you mean?” Assessing the situation in the split-second way only someone as observant as him could, Hoseok pats the ground beside him, deciding not to be so up-front about his concerns. She settles onto the cold ground, scooting in close to press her side against his, seeking warmth. He says nothing about it, but he’s grateful -- it gets cold in the corridors in winter, and he likes the feelings she gives him when she’s close more than he’d care to admit.

“Did something happen today?” He asks while he’s looping a flower through the twine and taping it down, the same one he’d been working on when she’d arrived. When she doesn’t respond right away, he glances over at her, taking in the faraway look in her eyes -- and then he leaves her be. She’ll tell him when she’s ready.

“I talked to Jungkook tonight… we just finished talking, actually.” Hoseok isn’t sure why he’s tensing -- whether it’s because he’s worried about how she’s doing or whether Jungkook had said something to upset her. Or maybe it’s because of the little irrational voice in the back of his head telling him that somehow, Jungkook had convinced her to get back together with him. The idea of that makes him vaguely nauseous, but he does his best not to show it when he responds.

“Oh… How did it go?” He can see her nodding slowly out of the corner of his eye, meaning that it went well.

“He apologized. Said he would leave me alone and do his best to work on himself before trying to be my friend again… I guess he really wants to do things the right way this time… So that’s good…” Hoseok doesn’t say anything, staring at the ground in front of them as he waits for something else from her, any indication of how she’s feeling because all she’s done so far is give an objective retelling of the conversation. But she doesn’t speak again, so he turns to her slowly, suddenly apprehensive.

“Are you okay?” Blinking rapidly until she’s able to focus on Hoseok again, she nods, turning to him with a small smile.

“I’m okay, Hobi… relieved… sad… but okay.” He feels glad that she trusts him enough to tell him that she’s upset, but he’s not sure how to help. So he sets the unfinished flower crown on the floor in front of him, reaching over and pulling her hand into his lap so he can interlock his fingers with hers. He doesn’t say anything -- he’s not sure why she’s sad, but he knows there has to be a really good reason for her to not be overwhelmed by the happiness of finally having gotten the closure she needed--

“Closure…” He whispers to himself, realizing with a small shake of his head that he’d taken too long to put it together. Y/n looks up at him from where she’s just rested her head on his shoulder, wondering where his thoughts have gone. He squeezes her hand, meeting her eyes with a small smile. “It’s the closure… isn’t it?”

Y/n frowns, unsure what he’s getting at. And then she thinks about it -- the amount of time she’d spent being annoyed with Jungkook for not letting her have exactly that. The summer spent crying over him and then deciding that she needed to be over him by the time school started again, never giving herself a chance to reach her own form of acceptance. Closure’s exactly what she’d needed this whole time, and months later, she’s got it at last. But for some reason, knowing that she and Jungkook are finally done -- knowing that now they needed to work on their friendship more than anything — it brings her a sense of incredible loss, like finally tossing the key to the door she’d locked up so long ago and moving on from it for good.

She eventually nods, laying her head against Hoseok’s shoulder again. She doesn’t want to say more, still trying to work through her own emotions, but she knows he won’t mind -- he’s always known what she needs without her saying it aloud. But she wants to make sure he knows that she’s fully aware of him, that he’s not just the boy she runs to when she’s an emotional wreck. Because it’s starting to worry her, and she would hate for him to think that about their relationship.

Hoseok seems like a really good guy. I hope he makes you happy.

The memory of Jungkook’s text shakes her, and her stomach’s alight with nerves when she realizes that, yeah, Hoseok does make her happy. Even when he thinks he’s not doing anything at all, he’s making her happier than she’d felt in a long time. He makes her happy even when she doesn’t realize that happy’s the one thing she’s been longing for.

“Thank you, Hobi. I don’t know what I’d do without you…” Hoseok stills when she whispers it, never lifting her head from his shoulder. He almost feels like he imagined it. But she’s pulling away from him now, craning her neck so she can find his eyes. He turns to her, too, eyes wide and a breathless laugh of disbelief leaving him.

“But I didn’t do anything…” She smiles then, having known he’d say that.

“You’re perfect as you are. Right next to me like this.” It makes her nervous, saying something like that to his face, but she means it. Because Jung Hoseok never believes he’s enough, even if he hides it well. And she needs him to know that he’s not just enough -- he’s perfect. To her, he’s perfect.

Apparently, saying it so blatantly like that has sent a shock through him, because his eyes are blown wide and his mouth is hanging slightly open. She thinks maybe she’s gone too far, but she can also see that his ears are turning red the longer he looks at her, his cheeks coloring in the same way soon after.

“I-- no one’s ever…” He trails off, nowhere near done with his thought but unable to get the rest of the words out. No one’s ever thought of me as important. The way Y/n’s looking at him, he knows that she’s aware of where his thoughts had gone, that she can see him even when he’s hiding. It’s scary, being vulnerable to someone the way he is right now. But he can’t say he would have it any other way, not if it’s her that’s seeing right through him.

“Y/n… I think… I think I--” I think I have feelings for you. It should have been so easy to say -- he almost has all the words out, he just has to finish saying them. But he can’t. Because he’d already told her the kiss had meant nothing. He’d already told her they could keep going as they are now. That nothing had to change. Because he hadn’t wanted to take advantage of their friendship, not when things between her and her ex were so precarious. He’d been too happy beside her like he is now, and he hadn’t been willing to risk it. But now he wishes he had. And he has no idea, but she wishes he had, too.

Before he can gather the courage to start again -- to say it again, clearly this time -- her phone is buzzing, Yoongi’s face and contact lighting up the screen when she pulls it out of her pocket. Hoseok swallows whatever awkward confession he’d been about to make, watching as Y/n frowns at her phone.

She’d texted him over an hour ago, and when he hadn’t responded right away, she’d just assumed he was in the midst of his usual nighttime business -- there’s no way he could already be done. It’s not even 11pm yet. Lifting the phone to her ear, she answers with confusion.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” Yoongi’s voice is calm, and she can tell he’s aiming to keep it that way, but his breathlessness is coming through the speaker against his will.

“Uh… by Hufflepuff -- why?” She hears him sigh, a huff of irritation that’s somehow also him trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck, I came all the way to Gryffindor Tower for nothing? So many fucking stairs--” He cuts off again, and she can hear his feet hitting the ground in quick succession, so she knows he’s running. He keeps talking, but it’s mostly to himself. “Fucking magical moving staircase, never where I need it when I need it most-- your text was really vague. You good?” Y/n blinks, not having expected to be addressed so suddenly.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m fine--”

“Liar.” Y/n scoffs, not appreciating his tone.

“Then why ask if you already know, hm?” He chuckles deeply, knowing he’s pissed her off.

“I always like to check if you’ll be honest with me when I ask. You never are.”

“Then stop asking!” Hoseok looks to her then, eyebrows hiding behind his fringe as he watches her expression turn to empty rage. She’s annoyed, but it doesn’t seem like it’ll last. In fact, it’s already gone, because at the end of the corridor, Yoongi’s rounding the corner, phone pressed against his ear as he locates her, sitting there on the ground with Hoseok. When she sees him, her face becomes one of surprise, and she’s lowering her phone when he does, sliding the device into his pocket as he approaches them.

He’s only half-dressed, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his sneakers completely untied, the shoelaces dragging across the floor while he walks. How did he not trip on his way here, Hoseok wonders, because that is really an impressive feat in a school as big as Hogwarts. But there are a few things that catch his eye while Yoongi flops down on the ground in front of them and levels Y/n with a hard stare when he finally settles into his spot.

“Why are you guys out here on the cold ass floor?”

“Hobi’s doing flower crowns.”

“That didn’t even come close to answering my question.”

Hoseok doesn’t react to the conversation he’s clearly now a part of, too distracted as his eyes roam the shirtless boy’s form curiously. Because there on Yoongi’s left ribcage is Y/n’s name — not the full thing, just her given name, scribbled in black ink across the expanse of his ribs. Right under his heart. Simple and to the point, much like everything uncomplicated about Min Yoongi, Hoseok’s coming to realize. It’s interesting to him that Yoongi has Y/n’s name tattooed on his body, mostly because he’s wondering how many of Yoongi’s ‘late night visitors’ would have had a problem with it -- just how many times Yoongi’s had to make it clear that he doesn’t care what they think.

The other thing to catch Hoseok’s eye is the necklace that Yoongi wears, a thin silver chain with a simple charm, a black star that sits comfortably between his collarbones. It’s something that otherwise would never have gotten Hoseok’s attention, but he’s seen it before. In fact, he knows that if he’d just turn his head, he’d see its double peeking out from beneath Y/n’s sweater. He thinks that if their bond is this tight, he wouldn’t be surprised to find that Y/n has Yoongi’s name tattooed somewhere on her body, too. It’s a curious thing, their relationship, but he’d said it that day in the forest with her, and he’d meant it. He’s grateful for Yoongi, because he would never have met this version of Y/n without him.

“--checking me out right now, I just know it.”

“He’s not checking you out, dumbass.” Hoseok blinks, coming back to reality at the sound of Y/n’s voice, clear as day. When he looks up from Yoongi’s chest, he finds the boy smirking at him, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“If you’re interested, I am very free tomorrow night.” Hoseok makes a noise of surprise, eyes wide, before he realizes that he’d just been looking Yoongi up and down for at least a full minute. Immediately he’s flushing red because Yoongi’s just propositioned him over a misunderstanding, and the Slytherin is now chuckling at how flustered he is, shaking his head with a sigh.

“Actually, I’m not so sure Y/n would be okay with that -- sorry, Flower Boy. Maybe in another life, when Best Friend Rule 32 doesn’t exist.” Hoseok has no idea what any of the words Yoongi’s just said means, so he’s shaking his head and looking to Y/n for help. She smiles, laying a hand on his shoulder in understanding.

“You’ll have to forgive him -- he reached his sexual awakening way too young in life and now his internal wiring’s a little wonky.” She says it with sarcastic pity, and Yoongi only rolls his eyes before standing.

“Well, I’d love to sit here all night freezing my balls off, but that sounds like something I would definitely not love to do. You gonna be alright here, man? You’re welcome to use Slytherin common room for your flowering if you want.” Hoseok had guessed when Yoongi arrived that he’d come to pick up Y/n, but he hadn’t been expecting the Slytherin to do much more than bid him goodnight. Although warmed by the kindness that Yoongi probably doesn’t even think twice about, he shakes his head with a smile anyway.

“I’m good! I’m just gonna finish this crown and then go to bed — hopefully the party’s dying down a little.” He gestures toward the door to his common room innocently, like he can’t hear the music still blaring loudly even from here. Yoongi raises an eyebrow but nods, reaching out and lifting Y/n to her feet when she takes his hand. He doesn’t let her go, only leading her slowly down the corridor as she turns back to Hoseok.

“Let me know if you get too cold! And make sure you get inside soon, it’s late and you might get sick, and—“

“Oh my God, let the boy live his life, Y/n — you’re not his mom!” Hoseok chuckles when they round the corner, the sounds of their bickering fading into the night.

“Weren’t you busy? You’re impossible to get to after the sun goes down, especially when we first get back to school and you have ‘lost time to make up for’ or whatever your crazy logic is.” Yoongi shakes his head with a snicker, pulling her into his bedroom and shutting the door behind them. Jin’s not back yet, and Y/n turns to Yoongi in confusion. He only shrugs.

“Probably with Jimin.” He says nothing more, gesturing to his bed while he slips his shoes off. She does the same, climbing onto the mattress and scooting over to give him room. He’s not telling her something, so she pries because that’s what they do — nothing goes unsaid between them.

“So if you weren’t sleeping with someone…” Yoongi sighs as he turns the light off, making his way to her in the dark.

“I was with Jimin, but we weren’t fucking. My phone died — that’s why I didn’t see your text until I was getting ready for bed, waiting for it to charge.” That explains his state of undress, but it doesn’t explain literally anything else.

“What happened with Jimin? Did you get into a fight or something?” She hears Yoongi snort beside her, and he wiggles an arm under her head so he can be more comfortable.

“Actually, yeah.” Y/n sits up right away, and Yoongi sighs, thinking about how much time he’d just wasted getting his arm under her neck.

“What happened?!” Reaching out, he takes hold of her upper arm, pulling her back down onto the bed.

“Calm down, dork. Nothing’s gonna happen to our group.” She had actually been worried about Yoongi himself, but now that he mentions it, she’s starting to stress about the group dynamic again. Of course something would happen as soon as she and Jungkook resolve their issues.

“He said he didn’t want me coming around just to fuck anymore — that he wasn’t going to be ‘one of many’, whatever that means…” She can see him now that she’s so close to his face, so she catches the way he rolls his eyes in frustration and holds back another sigh. He’s obviously worked up over this, regardless of how he acts.

“But you haven’t been sleeping with anyone else since the first time you slept with Jimin… right?” He’d never actually told her that, and she hadn’t wanted to say anything, but she’d picked up on his behavior since getting back to school — he’d started avoiding making eye contact with people he sleeps with regularly, ignoring texts from numbers he hasn’t saved. It’s all very unlike the Yoongi she knows, so it must be because he’s changing. And it’s confirmed so easily, when he looks into her eyes for a long moment, finally giving an almost imperceptible nod, one that she only picks up on because he’s breaking eye contact, embarrassed.

“Yeah… it’s just Jimin…” She tries so hard to hide her smile, but she fails — this is the first time Yoongi’s ever slept with only one person consistently, if sleeping with Jimin twice could be considered ‘consistent’. She can’t help that she’s a little proud of him.

When he sees the edges of her lips turning up, he rolls his eyes, grabbing her shoulder and pushing her away from him until she’s facing the other direction.

“Enough about me. What happened with Jungkook? Did he apologize or do I have to put him in the Hospital Wing?” She turns back around to face him, smiling when he rolls his eyes again, a habit when they’re together.

“He apologized. Said he would work on himself. That he doesn’t want to lose me or the group.” She keeps it short, gives him the cliffnotes because she knows he’ll fill in the gaps himself. And he does, nodding slowly as he looks her over.

“Relieved because you’re free of his demonic badgering — sad because you actually have to cut the cord with him this time?” She purses her lips, finding it interesting that both Hoseok and Yoongi had reached the same conclusion but had delivered their findings in comically different ways. Nodding, she reaches out to play with his piercings while she thinks, fiddling with the rings on his ear just as she has nearly every day since he’d gotten the double helix.

“I’m just happy that things are finally looking up… but yeah, it hurts a little to let go for good. But I’m okay, I promise.” He nods, the piercings slipping from her fingers. She drops her hand to his shoulder with a small sigh, waiting for his response.

“I know you’re okay — you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Suddenly overcome with emotion, Y/n finds herself frowning deeply, her bottom lip starting to quiver just as it had when she’d left Gryffindor. Yoongi sees it, changing the conversation before the waterworks can start.

“Okay, so we talked about Jungkook. Now let’s talk about Hoseok.” Y/n rolls her eyes, shoving at his shoulder this time and forcing him to turn onto his other side.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“I’m just saying, if you’re not going to cuff that man, let me know. Because he really was giving me ‘the eyes’ earlier, if you catch my drift—“

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jung hoseok #hoseok x reader

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Soured Nostalgia

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When Reader moves their stuff in to Spencer’s apartment they find photos that he kept over the years. One photo of the past springs up memories of Spencer’s precious relationship with Elle.

A/N: hey heeeyyy everybody- here’s a fic I’ve been really excited to share with everyone. It’s my eleventh fic for my 30 fics in 30 days!!! This was the original request (I made it a little different lol I hope you like it)I had a fun time with it mostly cause I totally think Spencer and Elle had something going on at some point 😉 Plus I got to incorporate older angsty post prison Spencer and mention how he used to be a little baby ☺️ I’m curious to hear y’all’s thoughts about the Reidaway ship, or really anything so feel free to drop an ask to my inbox here. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Joking about being jealous???, Reidaway in the past, Spencer being sad about the people who’ve left him, Sub Spencer, Only a bit of dry sex, Masturbation, Unprotected sex, Use of a belt to restrain, A few taps on the cheek, Reader’s hand is around Spencer’s throat for a second

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.2k

Reminiscing on the past was difficult depending on how the story had ended. Memories that may have been happy could turn too painful because of the ending result. Age turned the memories into unreliable accounts as well, unable to truly remember how things had been back then and how you had truly felt.

Memories were still something to hold onto and cherish even though they got twisted with age and opinion. Nostalgia, a sentimental or wishful affection for the past, was an addictive feeling even if it made you cry. It remained addictive even if most of your past memories had hurt you with no sentiment attached. Everyone always chased the euphoric feelings they had when looking at the ghosts of their past. Sometimes even when looking back you can find something that had once soured had turned sweet again.

Spencer had many memories that he was no longer able to look back upon for a host of reasons. Most often it was because he could no longer bear to look back on a memory of someone who had left him. Whether it was his Dad, Gideon, Hotch, Blake, Elle, and many others, looking back at them just made him often feel like everyone in his entire life had left him.

That wasn’t true of course, he still had his Mom- and you. Even with his Mom there were still many of his memories with her were still stained with guilt, though that had gotten better with time and with your help.

You had begun helping him find the benefit in looking back, trying to make the soured nostalgia a bit sweeter again. It was getting easier as time ticked by for him to open up to you about everything in his past, the good and the bad. At first you had been staring at a wall that he had been building higher and higher throughout the years, it was daunting how tall it was. When you helped take a sledgehammer to it, making it crumble beneath your effort, he pulled away for a while. He felt comfortable by himself behind his own Great Wall until you showed him the benefits of sharing the secrets he held behind it. But, you still stayed, helping him as much as you could until he was willing to open up.

It had been many months since you started your effort to help him break it down. At some point in the last months you had both fallen into a relationship, a romantic one. What had once been a platonic relationship forged from shared interests evolved into a romance emerging from the rubble of his wall.

He had even given you a key to his apartment at one point, which he had never done with anyone except the bureau. Emily was the one that really had it, but that was strictly for work reasons. This was a show of trust which was much more helpful than his wall that had reached the heights of a skyscraper.

A simple key soon turned into you staying at his place more often than at your own. You had casually mentioned one day while watching one of Spencer’s favorite documentaries that you basically lived here now. It was a true statement, most of the clothes you wore on a daily basis had been given a spot in his dresser and the toothbrush you kept there was not the one you used for travel- that one was at your place. You had begun to put your mark on Spencer’s life in a more permanent way than before.

When he had spontaneously suggested the next day that you should move in with him, you knew that your small comment had stuck in his brain. It was easy to agree to, you had said you basically already lived here, plus living with the love of your life sounded like a dream. You only had a few things that you wanted to bring over and it was mostly decorative stuff that you could’ve let go if Spencer hadn’t insisted that he wanted you to make the space your own.

While turning the space that was once solely Spencer’s into something for you both, you had found a small clear box with a blue lid, filled with pictures. Spencer didn’t have a lot of personal pictures framed, there was one with you and him by the bed, one with the team by his desk, one with him and Morgan on the living room wall, and one with you two and his Mom also hung up in the living room.

When you had shown him the box he could tell you were curious, letting you look through it without a moment of hesitation. In the past Spencer would have been wary sharing his memories with you, but now he’d let you look. If only you could get him to look at the box with you.

You weren’t surprised he didn't want to look with you once you saw the people littered throughout the snapshots. Varying people that had left were in most of them, even some you never met.

Ones with Hotch and Gideon- even one from a long time ago with his father buried at the bottom. As you browsed through them you were glad he was able to hang up that photo of him and Morgan, at least they had parted with some closure. It also helped that he still saw him regularly, he had never fully left like some of the people from his past.

One picture in particular stood out to you, it was another team photo, they seemed more carefree in this one compared to now. There was baby Spencer, before you had known him, in a birthday boy hat smiling with the rest of the team. You guessed it was around his 23rd or 24th birthday, going by the slick back gelled hair he had sported in his earlier years. He seemed so much more different back then, perhaps more carefree compared to now. But, he also seemed much more unsure of himself, maybe a bit self conscious. In the photo you could tell he was nervous, just by the look in his eyes. He still had that same look in his eyes whenever he felt nervous.

Then you looked closer at where his eyes were focused on, there was a clear line of sight from him to Elle. Elle was way less nervous in this captured moment compared to Spencer, though from what you had heard she had always been like that.

Your gaze on the photo was broken when Spencer then came into the living room where you were sitting on the couch.

You decided to test the waters to see if he might want to take a look at the photo with you, “Why do you look so nervous in this photo?”

He stopped the path he had been taking, then stood still for a second before deciding to sit next to you on the couch. Straining his neck he gazed over at the photo you were holding in your hands. It was silent for a while as he looked over it, stopping to look at his old team. Some of the team still remained intact, namely JJ, but she wasn’t the same as she had been all those years ago. You let him take it from your hands, so he could look at it closer. He cleared his throat a little, though his voice still came out slightly raspy when he spoke, though he didn’t answer the question you had asked him,“It’s the only picture I ever had taken with Elle…”

“I know you guys were- close.” You didn’t ask your previous question again, sensing that it was still too much to talk about in specifics. What he was telling you right now was even more than what he told you, only telling you that she was his first, everything. Any supplemental information was from talking discreetly to JJ about it one night because you were somewhat curious.

Tiptoeing around the relationship you knew that they had previously was like walking through a minefield. You tried the best that you could to avoid making him too upset. When you got him to open up, it wasn’t by forcing him to talk all at once. Busting the wall down was done brick by brick, not all at once.

“I’m glad you aren’t jealous of her.” His comment was said with less sadness than before. It was nice to see a glimpse of the weight coming off of his shoulders, even if it was just for a moment.

“What? Do you want me to be jealous of her?” You teased, lightheartedly so he wouldn’t dwell on the sad aspect of their past relationship. He smiled softly which deepened when you playfully stuck your tongue out and crossed your arms.

“No- you’ve got nothing to be jealous about…” Any playfulness in his voice was erased as his sentence trailed off. You didn’t say anything for a moment in case he wanted to continue his thought. And, after a moment of silence he did, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left…”

“I know- I was just joking about being jealous. I know how much she meant to you…” His eyes moved away from you, at first you thought it might be because he was still feeling the pain of losing her all those years ago. But, there was something else in his eyes, it naturally made you curious, “What are you thinking about?”

“If you were jealous- what would you have done?�� His mind must have shifted away from thinking about the ending of his memories with Elle, which was a step in the right direction. At least he wasn’t avoiding the topic all together, he was still talking about her in a sense.

You bit your lip, thinking about what direction you could take this in. You weren’t going to lie, your mind had gone straight into the gutter at his suggestion and by the look on Spencer’s face so had his.

“Hmmm…” You pretended to ponder while you moved from where you were sitting on the couch to sit on something better, Spencer’s lap. Straddling him then with ease you looked down at his face tracing his cheeks with your fingers. His pupils were blown wide now, almost completely devouring his iris that had become a small ring. He didn’t say anything yet, waiting for you to continue your thought obediently, “I think I would do things to you that I suspect she never did.”

He gulped hard, hard enough that you could hear it. You continued to trace your fingers along his face, sometimes picking a lock of his hair to twirl, waiting for him to say something else like you knew he wanted to. It only took a few more seconds of your touches and your eyes staring into his own before he asked, “C-Can you show me?”

You stopped your movements, pausing for dramatic effect before crushing his lips onto your own. He squared into your mouth at first, clearly taken off guard by your sudden kiss. Before he had processed what was going on enough to let you, you forced your tongue into his mouth, earning you a delicious moan from him.

When you moved again suddenly, separating your mouth with his for just a moment, he tried to chase your lips. Pushing a finger to his lips you then used that to push him back into the couch, then answering his question, “Gladly.”

You kept your finger on his mouth to seal them shut. He could have opened it easily to respond to you, but he wanted to see what you might do next.

Instead of going back to kissing him you started to pull his belt off of him. It was difficult with one hand, taking much longer than it would be with two. But, you still kept your finger rested in the position most people use to shush someone.

Once the belt had finally been pulled from the belt loops of his slacks you finally removed your finger from his mouth. He still remained quiet, his eyes following your every move intently. You then went to work, pinning his hands above his head, then beginning to restrain them with his belt.

“Did she do this to you?” Goading him while you looped the belt around his hands. You made sure to go as slow as possible while you restrained him just to make it last longer until you gave him what he wanted. You even began to grind down on his cock a little bit, it obviously ached to be free from its confines in his trousers by how strained the slacks were getting.

“No!” His voice was broken and breathy, exactly how you wanted it as you tightened the belt around his hand a little more.

Once you were satisfied that the belt was tight enough you got off of him to remove the shorts you had been wearing, along with the rest of your clothes. Normally when you were naked and Spencer was clothed it would be when you were underneath him as a sort of power play. In this position, where he couldn’t move without fear of consequences while you restraddled him completely naked was almost even more empowering.

To play with the dynamic even more you had him remain confined in his slacks for a while longer, while you touched yourself. You were already quite wet from seeing Spencer in this position and exerting that power by pumping your fingers in you while he could do nothing had you dripping onto his slacks.

Spencer’s jaw had gone slack while watching you moan above him, completely speechless from your actions. It was almost comical and entirely too easy to tease him about, “Close your mouth you might catch flies.” His mouth clenched shut at that. It soon fell slack again at your next words while you brought yourself closer to the edge with your fingers, “What? Did she never do this for you?”

All Spencer could do was sit there and take it, shaking his head side to side, only a little so he could keep his eyes on you. You decided to be merciful, pulling your fingers out of you just before you orgasmed. You wanted to finish at the same time as him anyway.

Finally, you pulled his aching cock out of his slacks. It was throbbing in your hand as you spread your wetness with the fingers that had been inside you. Because you had edged yourself earlier, you couldn’t take teasing him any longer. You lined the head of his cock that was red and weeping up to your entrance, sinking down as fast as you could take him. While you sunk down you rubbed your clit in slow circles, not enough to make you orgasm, but enough to make it easier to take him.

Once you had fully taken him you wasted no time, immediately beginning to build up a fast pace. And, of course you couldn’t help but goad him again,

“Did she make you feel this good?” Your pace you had chosen was rough, bouncing and rolling your hips with reckless abandon while he had to take it without being able to move. He could have thrusted up into you even without the use of his hands, but he had one too many of your punishments in the past to be willing to break the rules so explicitly. Now if he ever broke the rules now it was him subtly bending them. Though, you could tell by the way his eyes rolled back into his head that he had no intention of doing that tonight. It felt too good to be used like this by you.

He still had not answered you though, not on purpose, but you still needed an answer. Tapping his cheek a few times, just hard enough to get his attention. It caused him to whine, but he still didn’t give you an answer. Since that didn’t work you decided to ask again, “I asked you a question. Did she make you feel this good? Did she use you like this?”

To add an extra edge to your words filled with a deadly tone you reached one of your hands forward to grasp around his neck. To make him look at you directly you forcefully tilted his neck, eyes once again trained on yours. He finally found it in himself to answer, “It felt good with her, but it feels best with you! I love you!”

“Good.” You simply stated and dropped your hold on his neck so you could return it to its place on his chest, using it as leverage to help you continue your fast pace. Your orgasm was fast approaching, his cock hitting you in the perfect spot, all you needed was a bit more stimulation. When you brought your hand down to run fast circles onto your clit, you soon fell apart above him. Spencer couldn’t help but look up at you in awe, speechless at how beautiful you look while you writhed on top of him.

Your own release pushed Spencer close to the edge and he started to beg, “I’m gonna cum! Please, can I?”

His hands had tightened into fists above him, knuckles going white over the effort of keeping them right where you had placed them originally. You were pleased with the way he had begged, glad that he had asked permission before even thinking about cumming. You still left him in suspense for a bit longer as you continued to work yourself on his painfully hard cock. Pressing a few kisses to his exposed skin under his collar was admittedly just to torture him a bit longer before you finally gave the command.

“Cum for me then.” Spencer followed your command eagerly, taking only two more of you bouncing on top of him to release inside you with a groan. While he rode out his release his lips captured around one of your pebbled peaks, sucking hard to get one last moan out of you.

Slumping forward after you had both finished and you had taken the belt off his wrists with the promise you’d lotion them up after you cuddled. You rested your head on his shoulder, wanting to stay as close as possible for a little while longer. He started tracing his fingers up and down your spine, relaxing you even further, almost to the point of falling asleep.

Before your eyes closed shut in post coital sleepiness your mind wandered a bit back to Elle. Elle had been an important figure in his life, his first real connection with someone special. Sure you teased about being jealous, but you thought it was important to tell him that you were ok with him thinking back on her. You knew he loved you. It most likely would take time till he was able to think or talk about her without a sharp pain in his chest, reminding him of how it all ended.

He hadn’t told you exactly what had happened, but it wasn’t hard to fill in all of the gaps. You turned your head, eyelashes fluttering when you nuzzled into his hair. Then you spoke quietly just enough so the sound could travel the short distance to his ear, “You should frame the picture, you look cute in it. And, I meant to say it earlier, I love you too.”

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie

Sub Spencer: @thatsonezesty13 @pastathighs @virtualpeanutartisanjudge @calm-and-doctor @princesssmooshie

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #30 fics in 30 days

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septic-skele · 2 years

Text

UTMV - Shadows of Things That Might Be

Summary: There's nowhere else Sans would rather be than right at your side. When he sees his name written on your skin in shining letters, he's overjoyed. For a moment, at least, until he sees you running to the arms of someone else.

A/N: Soulmate AU. Warning for self-harm. It comes after the line break if you want to skip it.

It was…a common enough name, he supposed, at least in these new times. Given the recent opening of everyone’s eyes to the multiverse, he couldn’t really fault his human for being confused, and he had never been one to call them predictable.

It was just…the shock of it all.

His soul aflutter, brimming with joy and purpose and so much love, thinking that they would be his and he theirs. There was a place for him right at his human’s side—and nowhere else he’d rather be. He had an ache for them that no one else could soothe, a hole no one else could fill, and they surely felt the same. It was the first time in his life that he knew he was desired not for all he could do but who he was. He could simply be with them; it was his design, his destiny.

Or so he thought, for the few seconds it lasted. He barely had a chance to open his mouth before he watched the hope crash before his very eyes.

Was he so easily replaced, so interchangeable, that the universe(s) decided to make a cruel joke at his expense?

Blue wasn’t laughing.

But his—the human still was, nestled in against Comic with their arm draped across his lap, letting him idly trace his name on their skin. They kept giggling as his touch tickled the soul mark there.

Sans.

“Sans” was a common name now. Tossed about until it couldn't be told apart, like it was nothing. Like Blue was nothing, he and the rest of his other selves. It wasn’t fair. Because Comic was their namesake, he was somehow entitled to everything served to him first? Even love?

That seemed to be the human’s opinion. When their soul mark pulsed with light, they had run straight to him, without a spare thought for any of the other Sans they knew, for anyone else who may have “Y/N” scrawled on their radius.

No. Somehow, among any number of worthy skeleton contenders, Comic was the One. He didn’t even make an effort to seem all that excited, taking this news with barely a blush, the same languid smile and the same lackadaisical jokes. And they kept laughing and looking at him like he was made of gold.

There were a lot of things Blue could say. “You’re making a mistake. You can do so much better. I can love you well. How can you know the mark means it’s him and not me?”

Why would you choose him over me? What have I done wrong? I’d go to the ends of the universe, I’d do anything for you and he can’t even pick up a sock. Am I not “Sans” enough for you? Why am I not good enough?

He could say that.

But he wouldn’t.

If he vowed to do anything for them, respecting their decision would be the truest of tests.

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Through sheer force of will, armed with the idea that the human might hear, that knowing this would only cause them undue pain, Blue managed to stifle his sobs and keep the mess closely contained to the toilet bowl as he scraped away his own mark little by little. He wouldn’t burden them with this knowledge. They were happier now without him.

Stars, how it burned. His hand kept slipping, jittering around the knife’s hilt. The human’s name went quickly and quietly, swept away under a river of dust and blood magic. He could barely make it out through the nausea and tears. No clear sense of closure or goodbye.

A stray thought swam through the sea of swirling, spiraling pain, and for a moment it gave him pause: there were probably other Y/Ns in the multiverse too.

But if his…this human was anything to go by, it wouldn’t matter. He and they were merely shadows of the originals. No hope of comparison. No hope of that love.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he managed to get himself together, choking down a few tasteless healing items to staunch the flow. Magic still pulsed hotly along his radius, unbelievably tender and bruised, but a few layers of bandaging and his long sleeves could maintain cover.

With a trembling sigh he dragged himself up onto rickety legs, fumbling against the counter for balance. A glance in the mirror betrayed sore, magic-rimmed eye sockets, chattering teeth, and damp splotches on his shirt where he had wiped his face as he worked.

Not ideal. Maybe he could salvage it by saying there were stray splashes as he washed his hands. To make his story more honest, he briefly ran his hands under the water and found that he was still shaking. He swore weakly.

Composure. Breathe. One. Two. Three. Square the shoulders. Head up. You’ll be alright. You always are.

The human didn’t need him now. Maybe, against all odds, Comic would see how blessed he was to have them and would step up, change his act. Or maybe he would keep being an apathetic, jaded, lazy lump and the human would be happy with that. Either way, it wouldn’t be Blue’s business. He was…free of them now. Free of any ties or stakes. No say in the conversation. They had both made their choice.

When he finally emerged into the hallway, Red shouldered past him toward the bathroom with some unintelligible, bitter remark.

On any other day Blue would counter with something that emphasized his cheer but it absolutely wasn’t today. He whirled around, brimming with an unspoken heave of emotion and ready to snap back at him. The door promptly slammed and locked in his face.

It wasn’t the quaint, homey design of the door that left Blue still standing there, wavering in shaken silence.

It was only a moment’s glimpse.

Something slim and sharp had glinted in Red’s palm, reflecting against the mirror, and his sleeves were already rolled back.

_________________________________

A/N: This occurred to me when I noticed how prevalent it is for people to call the Undertale universe's Sans "Original Sans", "Main Sans", etc., even in the context of their stories. It's possibly because they can't think of a clever nickname for him like Blue and Red and the rest have, but imagine being one of them and being deemed nothing but a lesser copy.

That's not OG Sans' doing, of course, but it would probably stir some resentment from those who know they're just as real and valid as he is. Seeing a loved one instinctively choose him over them because he's "the original" (or so they assume/have been led to believe) would just feel awful.

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jedifarmerr · 3 years

Text

She’s Just Not That Into You (Marcus Pike x F!Reader)

Hello everyone!! This is my first try at fan fiction, so please give feedback! This is somewhat based on He’s Just Not That Into You, Alex and Gigi relationship (which I do not own). I have the whole story laid out, and should be around 8 to 10 chapters (if there is interest)

I do not own the mentalist or the picture above (so credit to them)

Summary: After a failed marriage, and the world’s shortest engagement, Marcus is starting to give up on love. One late night, Marcus stumbles into a diner, and meets a young waitress, with whom he develops an unlikely friendship with.

Warnings: Food, eating, mentions of heartbreak, some sadness, sad!Marcus, no use of Y/N! (If any more let me know)

Rating: M (just to be safe) 18+

Chapter 1: Diner Girl

Seeing Lisbon again had been a punch to Marcus’s gut. He thought it would give him closure, that he would feel better after seeing her. Maybe he hoped she would change her mind once she saw him. That she would be reminded of what they had. Instead, he was hit with the realization that it was really over. She had moved on, and was happy with Jane. He was just a pit stop to her final destination, it was always going to be Jane for her. He needed to accept that. He needed to move on. He just wondered what could Jane offer her that he couldn’t? When would it be his turn to finally have someone?

Since his return to D.C., he had been in a trance. His thoughts consumed him, stuck in his own self-loathing. Matthew’s voice breaks him from his thoughts reminding him of the meeting starting in a few minutes. He rubs his face, needing to pull himself together, focus on his job, he’s the leader of this department he needs to get it together. He catches his reflection on the black screen of his laptop, he examines himself noting that his eyes are tired, dark circles underneath them, and his beard really needs a trim. Marcus closes his laptop abruptly, and heads for the conference room. He just hopes this meeting is short so he can head home.

Marcus’s luck was never great, the meeting ran long, and he was starving. He missed the diners in Austin, missed his regular breakfast places. In between his office and his apartment, there were three breakfast places. He had tried two of them so far, and had been gravely disappointed by both of them. The only one left was Lucy’s Diner, and he was just hoping it was better than the last place. He was scared, and didn’t know if he could face more disappointment. How does a breakfast place mess up pancakes?

Marcus entered the diner, the small bell above the door ringing. The diner was empty, he was guessing since most people aren’t in the mood for pancakes this late at night. He hears a voice from the back telling him to sit wherever he wants. While walking towards the bar top he gazes around the room taking in his surroundings. The diner had fluorescent lights that gave a yellow tint to the dining room, the booths and seats were covered with a teal sparkly leather covering, and a jukebox was in the corner playing Elvis Pressley. Really had the classic diner look down he thought.

Marcus sits down and opens the menu, when suddenly he is hit with a memory of him with Lisbon on their first date. They had gone to a diner that had the best banana pancakes. He could remember how happy he felt that day, how she laughed at all his jokes, how beautiful she looked in that red leather booth. He could remember going home that night with the biggest smile on his face, and a feeling that she was his future. A voice breaks him from his thoughts, painfully reminded that he is here alone.

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You were annoyed at the sound of the small ding. You needed to study for your upcoming test, you had stretched yourself a bit thin this week. Taking extra hours at the diner to help pay for school. You check yourself in the mirror, making sure you look presentable before heading out the swinging door. Before even fully entering the dining room you start on your spiel “Welcome to Lucy’s Diner! What can I get you?” The customer jolts back a bit, startled from his own thoughts. The man’s eyes quickly dart around, lingering for a second on your name tag, then your face. He then looks down to the menu and states his order. Once he finishes, his eyes meet yours for just a few seconds, and you see that his brown eyes are glassy and have dark circles under them. He must be also having a pretty stressful week you think. You give him a quick smile before heading back to get his order in. You start a fresh pot of decaf coffee, unable to give him the stale shit that has been sitting there for hours. He looks like he has had a bad enough day.

After a few minutes you return to the man with his decaf coffee, “Freshly brewed, sir. Would you like any cream or sugar?” He shakes his head and gives you a quick thank you, while taking a sip of his coffee. The man didn’t seem in the mood to chat, so you leave him alone to sulk in his own thoughts. Not wanting to be a nuisance to the man.

When in the back room, you can’t help but peek through the little window in the door to spy on him. He looks so sad, so lost in his own mind, he looks like he can hardly hold himself together. He looks like a child lost in a supermarket, and for some reason you want to comfort him. You wonder what he is going through, was it just a bad day at work? Or was it more? Lenny breaks you from your reverie, letting you know that the order is up. When you pick it up, Lenny gives you a side glance, “I thought you had a test to study for, but seems you got something a little bit more interesting to look at then those books.” You roll your eyes at him, and turn to leave, the kitchen now full of laughter as you walk away.

Once you set the food down in front of the man, he immediately digs in. He eats like he hasn’t seen food in days, and you are honestly worried for this man’s health. You don’t want to disturb him, but you break his focus anyway to ask how it is tasting and if you can get him anything else. His mouth is full, and he meets your eyes fully for the second time that night. It seems as if the taste of the food has boosted his mood. He smiles, a real smile for the first time that night and his eyes are not as glassy, and you swear you see a glow to them. He lightly chuckles, before replying “This is fantastic. Could I get a little more coffee when you have the chance?”

You smile at him and motion to the room, “Yeah, I mean we are so busy, but I think I can do that for you.” He lets out a little giggle, while you go to get the pot from the back. You return only a minute later, and find that his plate is almost empty.

“Wow! You must have really enjoyed those pancakes!” You slap yourself internally for not being able to think of anything better to say to the man.

“These are the best pancakes I have had in a while, I have tried the other places around here” he says with a smile, “And they are nothing compared to this.”

You return his sweet smile, “I will let Lenny know you enjoyed them! I am glad you liked it.”

After that, you are met with a bit of awkward silence that you decide to break “So, are you from around here or just visiting?”

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He was trying to chew as fast as he could, this is the second time you have asked him a question mid-chew tonight. “Just moved here a few months ago actually, from Texas. Haven’t been able to explore too much, the new job is keeping me pretty busy.” He meets your eyes, placing one elbow on the table, giving you a small smirk “Do you have any suggestions for a newbie?”

Your face lights up as you give him a few food suggestions, some hidden gems, and a low down on the days to visit certain monuments and when to avoid them. You continue to converse about local tips, and after a few minutes he checks his watch

“I didn’t realize how late it was getting. Can I get the check? I am sure you are ready to close down.”

He senses that you are a bit disappointed with him leaving, guessing you must be bored with the lack of patrons in the establishment. You hand him the check in which he quickly pays, leaving a very generous tip.

Before reaching the door he hears your voice shout out “Hope to see you again soon!”

He turns while opening the door giving you a quick smile “I will definitely be back.”

#marcus pike #pedro pascal #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #the mentalist #pedro pascal fanfiction

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

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Dream SMP Recap (March 2/2021) - The Day After

The server grieves, building tributes to Tommy. Ranboo ponders to himself and confronts Sam about what happened as Sam continues to search for answers.

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VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Captain Puffy

Ranboo

Eret

Skeppy

Badboyhalo

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- Foolish builds a tribute to Tommy in front of Tommy’s house.

- Captain Puffy builds a shrine to Tommy.

- Ranboo reads through the Memory Book. On the eighth page is written, “He’s dead.”

- Throughout the stream, “It’s Raining Somewhere Else” plays in the background.

- Ranboo doesn’t understand how it could have happened. How could Sam have let it happen?

- He eventually decides there’s no sense in trying to rationalize why it happened...it already did.

- The only person who could stand up to the person in that prison is now gone, and there’s nothing he can do about it. But he can’t cry about it.

“Why do I want to? It’s not like he was kind to me...in fact, he was the opposite most of the time...But it was the fact that...he was kind once. That’s really all it takes. That’s really all it takes for me is...one person being kind to me, and then I’m indebted to them. Because I’m indebted to Tommy...although he didn’t really keep up friendship, he was still technically the first person I considered a friend on this server.”

...

“But now...I can never repay him anymore, so...there’s only so much that I can do.”

- Ranboo wanders away into the wilderness, passing by Jack’s restaurant. He goes into the forest to collect flowers.

“Why now are the same people who argued against him suddenly being sad? Because they see it...they see it as a relief. People only really see Tommy’s death as...relief. For them, it’s relief from...well...Tommy. They didn’t want to deal with him anymore, so now that he’s gone, their mourning isn’t sadness. It’s celebration, because no longer is the one person who, if I’m entirely honest, made this server interesting...now people can do whatever they want with little to no repercussions.”

“The reason so many people hated Tommy is because Tommy made them think.”

“For the first time, the people who were so deeply rooted in their beliefs...they had conflict."

- He was stuck in the prison for an entire week, and no one thought to help.

- Now that he’s gone, people are becoming virtuous. Afterwards, he’s now viewed as a reason why people want to help, to not let it happen again.

- Eret jumps down to the spider spawner and heads to the Egg Room to check his kingdom taxes chest. He peeks into the Egg Room but heads out before too long.

- Ranboo continues his monologue. All these people who claimed they were going to “protect the children of the server!” They just assumed that Tommy was safe when he was locked in with a murderer.

“I should’ve done something but I didn’t because I was scared...I was scared to help, and that was my fault, and I know that...I’m being...I’m going back on what I’ve said previously, I’m doing all this because I don’t know how to handle this! I don’t know how to handle this.”

- He forces himself not to cry. He says things that are wrong sometimes, he says things about what he believes that don’t work.

- Puffy completes her cobblestone shrine for Tommy.

- Ranboo continues.

“Monologues about my beliefs aren’t gonna change anything, right?”

“And who knows who else could be next? ‘Cause it’s not like no one else is going to die...”

“But what are we gonna do? We’re just gonna react!”

“God, I’m such a hypocrite...I don’t know what to do!”

“Why didn’t I do anything? Why didn’t I do anything to help Tommy in the prison? I -- I should’ve, I could’ve...But then why didn’t I? I was aware of it, I could’ve done something, but...what stopped me from going in? And saying something? I mean I know I’m banned, but I still see Sam outside. What stopped me from going inside, or at least telling Sam that...what stopped me?”

- He starts swimming across the lake to walk back.

“I know I’m hypocritical, I know I’m a...non-redeemable character, but...I just don’t know what to do...just doesn’t make any sense.”

- Ranboo walks up the Prime Path to Tommy’s House and begins to plant the flowers there.

“That’s how most people deal with it, right? We’ll just make a quick little shrine and move on...make their shrines, make their statements about how they’re gonna make it better, and then...they aren’t gonna change a single thing. They’re gonna say their piece and continue on. And me, of course, being the hypocrite that I am...I’m gonna do the same thing.”

“...At least I can remember this.”

- He holds an allium.

“Remember this? I gave him one of these and he immediately insulted me...that was one of the first times we ever interacted. I gave him one of these, he insulted me, and then I helped with one of the things that led to his demise...so here, Tommy. A flower...there’s no one there to pick it up anymore.”

- He watches the dropped flower on the ground.

“If you don’t make the most of what you have before it leaves, then you’ll have regret. You’ll think to yourself, ‘why didn’t I do something more?’ Why didn’t I do something more to help?"

- The flower despawns.

“Goodbye, Tommy. You were interesting, but...you were still a friend.”

- Ranboo decides that he wants to figure out how it happened. Because even if he doesn’t need closure, other people might. He decides to speak with Sam.

- He meets Sam (Awesam) at the Big Innit Hotel, asking how he’s holding up.

- Ranboo says he’s confused about a couple things and wants to ask about what happened.

Ranboo: “I’m not talking about Tommy’s final days, I’m talking about the period of time before that. Before...prison. Before even the Disc War, do you know what happened to Tommy?”

Sam: “Yes. Dream...was in the prison, and I would...he...started admitting, telling me about what happened, and...yeah, I know.”

Ranboo: “So you know what Tommy had to go through.”

Sam: “Yeah, I know.”

- Sam insists that there was nothing he could do.

Ranboo: “You never thought ONCE that maybe, maybe, having a visitation with one of the most dangerous people on this server wouldn’t lead to ANYTHING bad for the visitor? So you installed NOTHING about it? You did nothing about it?”

Sam: “I didn’t think that something wouldn’t happen to Tommy specifically.”

Sam: “There’s some people that I never let go and don’t forget. I didn’t let Tubbo go visit him, there’s a reason for that...but I didn’t think that he would kill him.”

Ranboo: “What would make you think that he wouldn’t!?”

Sam: “He admitted himself that he needed Tommy. It’s the only thing that he would talk about when he was in there alone, was Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. And Tommy came and wanted closure...and I thought it would be good for him to move on.”

...

Ranboo: “So you never let him out after a WEEK?”

Sam: “Ranboo, I couldn’t let him out!”

- Sam explains that trying to make more entrances also means more exits, and that he was following protocol. Ranboo protests that Dream had Sam make the protocol in the first place.

Sam: “If I thought there was something I could’ve done, I would’ve done it. By the time I realized Dream was -- attacking him, I headed back there to try and stop him immediately, and when I got to the main cell he had already done it. And then...I was standing on the other side of the lava just screaming at him, and he just laughed. I know I should’ve tried to do something, but you have to understand I couldn’t let him leave. What if Dream left with him, where would I be?"

- Ranboo then asks about the explosions. Sam explains that there’s no sign anywhere of who did it.

Sam: “I need to find who it was. ‘Cause...whoever did that...trapped Tommy in there, and made me leave him in there with him. And they saw what it did, and they knew he was trapped in there, and they still didn’t come...they didn’t tell me that it was them, so they...they wanted him to die.”

...

Ranboo: “I can help you with that. I think, if I see anything, ‘cause...obviously if the person that did it probably had...no...connection with anything. I mean, they must’ve just...someone who was against Tommy.”

Sam: “Someone who was for Dream.”

Ranboo: “No one’s for Dream.”

Sam: “I would hope not.”

- Meanwhile, Eret meets with Captain Puffy at their castle. Puffy asks if he knows...Eret doesn’t. They go on a walk down the Prime Path and Puffy shows them the shrine as she tells them.

- Ranboo then confesses about George’s house.

Ranboo: “It’s kind of my fault!”

Sam: “No, it’s none of your fault.”

Ranboo: “No, you remember -- George’s house, the thing that started all of this, that led everything to this moment? I...helped with that. And...Tommy covered. Tommy covered for me, and he could’ve not, and then everything probably would’ve been fine.”

Sam: “You don’t know.”

Ranboo: “But I do. The only reason why Dream built the prison was because of Tommy’s exile, because he realized how nice someone being away was, on the server. The only reason why Tommy’s exile happened was because of the house, and because of the fact that he covered for me. It’s a butterfly effect, Sam.”

- Sam asks for Ranboo’s Memory Book. He writes a page saying it’s not Ranboo’s fault, Sam is responsible.

- He says that, if Ranboo finds something, to come and talk with him. Sam then says goodbye and leaves.

- Ranboo thinks, maybe there was some evidence that Sam didn’t see around here. He walks closer to the prison.

“But there is at least one thing I can do, and that’s...at least take care of our friends. Like Tubbo, my friend.”

- Eret is devasted by the news. Everything was supposed to be fine! Like the old days before L’manburg! He was only gone for a little while. Puffy isn’t sure what she’s fighting for anymore. They walk down to see the prison as well.

- Ranboo decides to work on the hotel, at least. He sees Sam Nook standing by Tommy’s hotel. Sam Nook asks how Ranboo’s hotel is coming along, and says that Tommy is excited about the competition. Ranboo says he’ll see Sam around.

- Puffy fills Eret in on how corrupted the Eggpire has become. Eret reminisces about the L’manburg War, and the duel Tommy lost to Dream.

- Ranboo sits on the bench for a quiet moment.

- He then remembers something. He descends into the Power Tower war room.

“This is where he told me our plan...of going to burn down George’s house.”

- He mines down and finds the chest, still filled.

- Puffy tells Eret that she tried to break the Egg, but it hurt her back. They make their way to L’manhole. Eret has a theory that, in trying to revive Wilbur, they may have caused some sort of rift that caused the corruption to accelerate -- but it’s just their theory.

- Puffy remembers how Bad and Skeppy had a heated moment where Skeppy asked Bad to choose, the Egg or him.

- Ranboo goes to leave but then...wait...was that...?

- He checks the chest again and finds the allium.

- Ranboo continues walking down the Prime Path. There is one constant, and that’s death. And no matter how you try to run from it...it’ll always come eventually.

“Hardships are hard, death is tough...but...loss is a part of life, chat. You gotta make sure that you’re open to the lesson, ‘cause you never know when it’s gonna be able to help. You never know.”

- Puffy shows Eret the McPuffy’s.

- Ranboo goes into the Nether to pull a 180 out of the lore and immediately falls in lava. Welp.

- Puffy and Eret explore the Oogway Shrine and then Puffy decides to show Eret Ponk’s Maze.

- They walk around, Eret turns on shaders and Puffy shows them her secret chamber in the mansion.

- Foolish speaks with them.

- Bad does a hangout stream with Skeppy.

- Puffy starts building a statue at Tommy’s house and the others help.

- They decide to have a beach party funeral at Logsted, a celebration of life.

- They place a coffin at the site of the beach party. They say some parting words.

- They then walk around Logsted and explore.

- Bad speaks with George, Dream, Quackity and Foolish too

- Obama lore

---

Upcoming Events:

- Tales From the SMP: “Haunted Mansion”

- Quackity’s business opening and lore stream

- Puffy’s origin story stream

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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