#I think if I wasn’t starting my masters in fucking May I’d have a bit more motivation

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Me: Okay so what are we gonna do tonight brain

Brain: we’re gonna do that work that we really need to get done

Me: Right, so what’s the first step

Brain: We’re gonna listen to some music

Me: Uh hm well okay but that’s not what I-

Brain: And we’re gonna think about that fanfic you want to write

Me: We’re gonna what

#I’m so dumb #Between my dndads hyperfixation and just being kinda burnt out from school #I’m drowning a bit this semester ngl #So the fic is a non-magical au sort of enemies to lovers Grant x Lark road trip fucking mess #Also gonna throw Nicky in at some point and he’ll be lovable but absolutely unhinged #And he and Grant are exes #I’m so dumbb #😭😭😭 I don’t want to do school anymore #I think if I wasn’t starting my masters in fucking May I’d have a bit more motivation #But no #😩 And I’ve been DYING to draw more #And write some analysis pieces… #Maaaaaan #But I stay silly :3 #but I stay sillly #But I sta #BLUGH WHY IS THIS SHOWING UP IN THE DNDADS TAG NO TUMBLR THIS WAS FOR THE BESTIES

[harlequin-hangout]

For a Mortal Chapter 1

Series Master List | Loki Master List

Part 2 >

Pairing: Dom!Loki x f!Reader

Warnings: Self esteem problems, self deprecation, ⚠️abuse (past, not from Loki)⚠️, minor breaking and entering

Contains: Maybe angst, definitely a little fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

Dividers are made by me! Want some for yourself? Send me an ask!

I do not nor will I ever give permission for my writing to be copied, pasted, reposted to other sites, or edited in any way shape or form. Seriously, just don’t.

A/N: This was inspired by this ask by @michelleleewise​. This is my first attempt at writing any kind of fan fiction, so please be kind. I’m hoping to get better, though inspiration doesn’t strike as often as I’d like. I may turn this into an ongoing series, I haven’t completely decided yet. I hope you all like it!!

“FUCK!!”

Your phone hits the bed and bounces to the floor. You threw it harder than you meant to. Sighing through your gritted teeth, you pick up the device. At least the screen wasn’t cracked, but your case had definitely busted when it hit the ground. You had just hung up a call with your boss. The company wasn’t bringing in cash flow, which meant for the second month in a row, you weren’t going to get paid. At least he had told you that you didn’t need to come into the office until there was money again. You take a deep breath and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, as if the pressure could stop the stress and the headache it was about to bring on. 

“God, I don’t want to know how much I’m short,” you think to yourself as you pull the busted case off of your phone and open your banking app. A pit forms in your stomach as you realize your account is overdrawn by $56.41. Well . . . Ramen again tonight. It isn’t the healthiest, but anything is better than being hungry.

It’s been two weeks since your last conversation with anyone in the small startup company you work for. You can feel the exhaustion creeping in, trying to find freelance work while donating plasma just to make sure you can eat has taken its toll on you. Your phone vibrates in your pocket. The caller ID reads “Darren Albright”. Dammit. It’s your boss.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you answer, trying to not let your exhaustion show through in your voice.

“Hey, Y/N, we need to talk. You’ve barely done any work since the last time you were in the office. I feel like I’m just a paycheck to you, and I’m not okay with that. We talked when you came on board, I have decades of experience in production, but this company is still essentially a start-up and Rob and I both work for free, and it’s insulting that you don’t even try to come in to help out. I always go out of my way to help out friends, and I just thought you’d do the same. I’ve offered you gas money to come out here if you need it, we’re all in the same boat here. I’m broke too. I haven’t paid my mortgage for this month, so don’t tell me it isn’t possible.”

You don’t really process the rest of what Darren says as you stare at the wall in disbelief. 

Not working . . . ? You’ve been working for free for over two months. The only difference is you’ve been working from home instead of from the office. You can’t help it if you live an hour away. Hell, it isn’t the same boat. Darren lives in the office, owns the company, and when you were in the office, you mostly saw him playing around on an art app while you worked. You knew you were signing on to a startup, but you’d been reassured that you’d be paid at least something. You mumbled apologies that you don’t really mean as you hang up the phone. First it was his now ex-girlfriend, Crystal, doxxing you online after harassing you for days on end because she somehow got it in her head that you and Darren were sleeping together. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Sure, Darren was tall, but he wasn’t your type at all. The bushy beard just didn’t do it for you. Your type was a bit more . . . sleek. Sleek, dark, put together . . . You sigh as you try to fight back your tears. 

What the hell were you doing? Was this even worth it? You’d worked so hard to break into the world of production. You worked with all three of Darren’s companies, and had built the backend for two of them. You spent every day maintaining those backends, running admin, and doing literally anything he called and asked you for, including finding and making proposals for marketing clients, something you’d had to teach yourself just to be able to do the job. You lost your fight as tears start to run down your face. How could he say those things? You’d worked yourself mostly to death trying to make the situation work, and he thinks you’ve done nothing because you aren’t being paid? You choke back a sob, leave your apartment unlocked,  and just run. You run towards the woods and don’t look back. Branches whip at your skin as you break off the narrow walking path, just wanting to be as far away from everything that’s been causing you to nearly break. Finally, coming to a clearing, you drop to your knees and wail at the top of your lungs. Sobs wrack your form as you let out all the emotion that’s been building over the last months. You don’t like being vulnerable around others, so this is the only safe place you know where you can let everything out.

“Why?? Why am I fucking killing myself for someone who obviously doesn’t give a fuck about me?? Why . . . why am I here? Why am I trying so hard? . . . Why did I think I could do this?” You choke, your self doubt taking control. In all honesty, you couldn’t answer those questions. You’d long since seen a point in continuing to follow your dream career, maybe it was just better to get a regular job. You knew you’d hate it, but at least you knew your bills would be paid.

As your sobs quieted, you wiped your tears on your sleeves and slowly made your way back to your apartment. Nightfall had long since passed. When did it get dark? It didn’t really matter, as the numb feeling across your whole body makes it hard to care about much of anything. Locking your front door, you pull off your now dirt-stained clothes and take a deep breath. You didn’t really remember getting back to the apartment, or much since you left. You just wanted this to be over. For the stress to be gone. And more than anything, for support. You look upwards, and for the first time in years, you pray.

“Please, whoever’s listening, I don’t care. Please. PLEASE give me some encouragement. I can’t keep doing this, and I don’t even know if my dreams are worth it anymore. Please . . . Just send me a sign that I shouldn’t give up . . .” You fall ungracefully onto the bed, not bothering to put on the pajamas that lay on your floor. As you fall into a deep sleep, you fail to hear the soft, almost magical hum that floats through the air and miss the soft touch that brushes your temples. A tall figure kneels next to your bed as you start to toss and turn as your mind turns to nightmares.”

You bold upwards in bed, cold sweat drenching your body. You could have sworn that you felt someone’s presence. . . You rub your bleary, sleep-filled eyes as you look at your phone. 3:47am . . . what the hell were you doing awake? You know one thing, though, once you’re up, you need to get something to drink before you can sleep again. You padded towards your kitchen, but an unfamiliar scent stops you dead in your tracks. What was that . . . Fir trees, sandalwood and . . . leather? You cautiously take the last couple steps and peek around the corner. An unlit candle that had definitely NOT been bought by you sat on your counter on top of an emerald green envelope with “Dear Y/N” scrawled on it in an elegant cursive hand. Turning it over in your hand, you break the gold colored wax seal that depicts two snakes intertwined. Where have you seen that before?

Dear Y/N,

I am sorry to hear that you are not receiving the support or recognition that you deserve. I have learned in my long life that sometimes the only ones we can rely on is ourselves, and if these people do not support you, they are not worthy of your greatness. My Dear, your dream, your passion is always worth your efforts. Do it for you, because it is what you desire and you will succeed, I have no doubt. You are a strong, independent, intelligent person . . . for a mortal. Never doubt yourself, My Dear. Should you ever find yourself in need of one who can see your worth, then just light this candle. I wish you all the best in your pursuits and remember . . . You can do whatever you set your mind to. Until we meet . . .

Loki

The name was elegantly scrolled, even if the word choice was a bit odd. The entire letter . . . Loki. Who was he? How did this get in your kitchen? Your windows had been painted shut by the complex, and you were relatively sure you had locked the door behind you when you came back inside . . . Not that it mattered. The numb feeling didn’t seem to want to leave. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about your own personal safety. Maybe a shower would help you relax enough to sleep. After the letter, you couldn’t bring yourself to crawl back into bed. Still . . . You eye the candle, your hands mindlessly tracing the paper in your hands. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to have someone . . . I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? My bathroom doesn’t have any windows. There’s no way anyone could see it,”  you think to yourself as you grab the candle and head towards the bathroom.

The steam feels amazing on your skin already as you get the water near scalding in preparation for your shower. If you’re going to do this at 4am, you might as well do it right. You place your towels and bathrobe on the hook on the back of the bathroom door and glance at the candle. You still hadn’t really decided whether or not to light it. It was a deep green and scented like the forest that you ran into to escape the reality of life. That still didn’t account for the leather and sandalwood you’d smelled, though. Fuck it, at least if some random snuck into your bathroom, there was about a 50/50 chance that he’d just put you out of your misery. You flick your lighter and the familiar scent of pine fills the room. You sigh and step into the steam-filled stall, running your fingers through your hair.

“I really wish you wouldn’t think such things about yourself, Darling.”

You freeze as the deep voice fills the room. He spoke softly, almost as if he were your friend. You whip your head around to see a man in a black suit sitting on your toilet, directly across from the entrance to the shower. You almost want to scream but . . . 

“I . . . Do I know you? I mean I know I’ve never met you, but I feel like . . . I mean . . .” You fumble your words. The man’s sudden appearance should have been the thing to catch you off guard, but it was . . . Him. His features were somehow soft, yet stern at the same time. The green of his eyes almost perfectly matched the candle and stationary. His jawline was regal, just like his posture. The suit was well fitted, and you could vaguely make out the tone of his arms. Not to mention, those LEGS. The look of gentle worry that graced his features . . . for some reason, it put you at ease. 

Wait. The eyes. Could this be . . . “Loki?” Your voice is almost a whisper as you stand in the water’s heat, hands tucked gently against your chest. The man gave a soft smile, and what seemed like . . . Relief?

“Yes, My Dear. It’s me. I was worried you wouldn’t recognize me. I must say, I’m pleasantly surprised.” His voice was comforting, yet his tone was that of someone who was undoubtedly in charge. “I must apologize for the sudden entrance, I didn’t expect you to light that thing so soon.” You eyed the man, with both curiosity and apprehension. When you did not speak, he continued. “You are such a clever mortal, though I would guess that your waking memory doesn’t know much of your dreams.”

“N-no, I really don’t remember when I dream, but what does that have to do with anything? Why do you keep calling me ‘Mortal’? It’s almost as if you’re implying that you aren’t.” Loki smirks, one eyebrow raised.

“Little mortal, I am a God. You prayed, and I answered. Isn’t that what you wanted? ‘Whoever’s listening’, I believe, were your exact words?” You stand there, dumbfounded. “I have seen your nightmares and I must say, you are definitely a capable mortal. So determined. You have so much life in you, why would you give it up now?”

“I . . . I mean, if Darren doesn't see all the work I do, if he doesn’t think I’m valuable, then why should I try?”

“Then tell me, why does Mr. Albright deserve your efforts and your loyalty? What has he done? I see a large potential in you, My Dear, and I would like to offer you something. However, first I must confirm my suspicions. If I may?” Loki motions at your temples. After only a couple seconds of hesitation, you kneel in front of the God sitting in your bathroom. The pleased hum doesn’t escape your notice and you smile just faintly enough that you hope he didn’t see. 

Your eyes flash the moment Loki’s cold fingers touch your temple, and suddenly you’re back in your abuser’s house. 

It was winter, and he was drunk. He had lost his phone cord and blamed you he’s screaming, the bourbon on his breath obvious. 

“You’re a shit girlfriend! You’re a shit girlfriend now, and you were a shit girlfriend when I met you, that’s why you were single. Go die!!” As he pushes past you, he punches a hole in the wall, mere inches from your head. You fight to keep your face still and unfeeling, hoping that he’ll go back to his office and leave you to lock yourself in the guest room. 

The scene shifts, and you find yourself in that same guest room. 

You’re bracing against the locked door with all your body weight. No matter how heavy you try to make yourself, you can feel the door start to budge. You make the split second decision to unlock it and let him in, as it will be much worse on you if he has to break in. You retreat into your mind and try to tune him out as he rants and screams about his right to grab your throat. You had fought him in his office when he had grabbed you and tried to sexually assault you. You got away, but at what cost?

Scene after scene flashes before your eyes, each more traumatizing than the last. Finally, Loki comes back into focus in front of you. You hastily grab the trash can beside the toilet and heave into it, bile being the only thing in your system to come up. You cough, and you feel a gentle hand rub your back as you fight to regain your composure.

“Little mortal . . . You’ve been through so much. You are so strong, and are worthy of someone who can see your value. Stand.” You push yourself up, leaning on Loki for support as you steady your face, willing it to neutrality. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Now darling, we’ve moved quite a ways past that. Shower.” You step into the stall, feeling the warmth wash over you. “May I?” The God reaches for the shampoo bottle on the floor of the shower, seemingly unbothered by his suit getting wet. You sit obediently near the shower’s door, and he sits behind you, gently massaging the product into your hair. He takes gentle care to not pull or scrub too hard. You rinse when he tells you to, and hand him the conditioner. As he works the second product into your hair, he sighs. “I did not realize the extent of your abuse. You did not deserve what that ant of a man did to you. Please, take your own wants and needs into consideration when you hear my offer.” 

You chew your lip, unsure of how to respond. Do you even remember how to do things for yourself? You could take care of your own necessities, but this is different. When was the last time you’d done something just because you’d wanted to?

“I . . . I don’t even know what I need, much less want. Not anymore.” Your eyes never leave the floor of the shower. Loki’s movements don’t falter as he carefully chooses his words.

“Darling, I have been inside your mind. I know your wants, your needs, your fears and desires, your passions and your sorrows. You want someone to dominate you, but not for the thrill or gratification. No, your desire is much less selfish than that. You desire trust. You want to trust someone enough that you feel confident handing over control. To trust that they have your best interests at heart, and will always act with your needs taken into account. Rinse.” You stand, silently mulling what he says over in your mind.

“And what if you’re wrong? What if I want to be the one with the reins?” He chuckles, a small smile playing his lips. 

“Then, Y/N, take those wants into account when you make your decision. However, I can guarantee I am not wrong. You would give up control so willingly if someone had your wellbeing in mind. Just like you did for me. With the shower.”

Goddammit. He was right. You hadn’t even realized what you were doing. Was he telling the truth? Could your outlook be so skewed that basic care and consideration is all you really want? 

“Well then, Darling, now it is time for your choice. Come with me. I’ve been watching your drive and your passion for some time, and you are worthy of my attention. Of my care. Come with me, and let me earn the trust that you so crave to share with another being. I promise, you’ll be safe with a God.” You blink in disbelief. Is he offering you a way out? A way to get away from Darren, from the bills, from not always knowing where your next meal was coming from? Was this truely a fresh start?

“And what if I’m not strong enough to build that trust? What if I’m too far gone?” Your voice is soft, uncertain. Loki gently cups your chin and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him.

“Darling, I know you can do it. You can come back from whatever dark place those undeserving insects have left you. You are so, very strong . . . For a Mortal.” You beam and take Loki’s hand. As his Seidr envelops you in a green glow, you think for the first time in forever that maybe, just possibly, everything might be alright.

#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #loki one shot #loki x reader #dom!loki x reader #fluff #angst #possible angst #loki fluff #loki x reader fluff #loki fanfic #loki god of mischief #loki of asgard #marvel mcu #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #mcu fanfiction #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x y/n #For a Mortal

[thearvariblues]

Sing Me a Song

“You Geralt of Rivia’s bard?”

Jaskier looks up from his notepad and grins at the man who’s just sat at the opposite side of the table.

“Technically, I used to be,” the bard says, taking a sip of his ale. “We had a tiny misunderstanding last year. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine, though, I’m just giving him some time to cool down and wallow in self-pity.”

Jaskier frowns, because his brain has finally caught up with his mouth and informs him that even though the man who asked the question is very pretty (and he is – a bit short, but lean and clearly very agile, brown-skinned, with dark, wavy hair and stunningly unnatural green eyes), he also has got two big, scary swords strapped to his back, way too many scars and has, in fact, only one green eye, the other being covered by an eye patch, presumably missing.

And then there’s the Cat school medallion on his chest.

As Geralt would say… fuck.

“Unless you’re here to kidnap me and torture me to lure him into a trap. If that’s the case, I’ve never met a Geralt of Rivia in my life. Also, if you harm a hair on my head, he will hunt you down and kill you, very slowly and painfully. Just a heads up,” Jaskier smiles, utterly failing to sound at least a little bit threatening.

“Thanks for the warning,” the Witcher laughs. “But I actually need you to write me a song.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid this bard already has a Witcher to praise,” Jaskier protests, shaking his head firmly.

“Ugh. Who says I want praise?” the man says, making a face. “I just can’t seem to find a friend of mine, so I need to make him find me.”

“With a song? Do I look like a fucking pied piper?” Jaskier smirks.

“A little, yeah.”

“Fair enough. What’s in it for me?”

“What do you think is going to happen once Geralt hears that his bard has found himself a new muse?” the Witcher grins.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, chuckling. “Oh, but that’s good.”

“Are you in, then?”

“Absolutely. And, uhm… What did you say your name was?”

“By the gods, where are my manners?” the Witcher laughs. “I’m Aiden.”

*

Geralt places two tankards of ale on the table and sits down with a grunt.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting old, Wolf,” his brother Lambert smirks and promptly pulls one of the tankards closer. “Because that almost sounded like Vesemir when he’s trying to get up from his chair.”

“You’re so fucking funny,” Geralt murmurs.

“I know, right?” Lambert grins, tucking a strand of curly red hair behind his ear. “So, how’s life on the Path without your beloved bard?”

“Not my bard.”

“So pretty fucking terrible, eh?” Lambert chuckles.

“Fuck off, Lambert.”

“You’re being very nice and friendly today, you know?”

“I bought you a drink. So shut up and… drink.”

Lambert shrugs and for once does what he’s told. Within a few seconds, half of the tankard’s content vanishes.

“If it’s any consolation, life without my Cat is also pretty fucking unbearable,” he says then.

“Hm.”

“Oh, really, Geralt? You’re using your famous hm against me? Me, your brother?!”

Geralt groans.

“By the gods… Why can’t I just run into Eskel for once? Why does it always have to be you?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess.”

“Lucky. Yeah.”

Lambert rolls his eyes and focuses on his ale again – until the local bard grabs his lute and starts playing a slow, romantic ballad. Lambert growls.

“Fuck, I hate that song!”

“Why?” Geralt blinks, because he’s never heard the song before, and to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t really sound that bad.

“A brown-skinned woman with dark hair who’s seemingly killed, then comes back to life already plotting her revenge, only to find out that her lover’s already avenged her? Always reminds me of Aiden.”

“Aiden wasn’t exactly… A woman, was he?”

“He also hasn’t come back to life, as far as I know,” Lambert mutters.

“Who wrote it?” Geralt frowns, listening carefully. “It sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Some Master Dandelion. Never heard of him, but it seems he’s very popular now.”

“Hmmm…”

“Oh, not again!” Lambert groans.

“It just… It really does sound like Jaskier’s song.”

“You just fucking miss the bard, Geralt, that’s all.”

“No. No, I actually think…”

“That might be exactly the problem,” Lambert says and places his empty tankard back on the table. “The second round’s on me.”

*

“Seems like your plan’s not working as intended,” Jaskier comments. He’s spent weeks traveling with Aiden, and they still haven’t even heard about another Witcher trying to find them.

“I’m aware,” Aiden mutters, chewing his dinner without even noticing its taste – which is, honestly, probably for the best. “Could you be, like… less subtle?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“I suppose.”

“Fine,” Aiden nods. “Do it.”

*

“It’s a man now,” Geralt frowns, listening to the song he’s heard countless times already. “That’s new.”

“Looks like Master Dandelion might like to, uhm, dual wield,” Lambert snorts.

“It still sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Does Jaskier like to dual wield?”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dreamily.

“All the more reason to apologize, then, eh?”

“Oh, shut up, Lambert…”

*

“Still not working!” Aiden groans. He’s been waiting for three months for his Wolf to find him, and to no avail.

“I could, you know… Try something more obvious,” Jaskier offers.

“Please.”

*

“It’s a cat now,” Geralt blinks. “Dark-skinned, dark-haired… cat.”

Lambert sighs.

“Yeah, I hate those fucking metaphors.”

*

“I’m starting to think I should have just… kept trying to find him,” Aiden sighs, staring out of the tavern’s window.

Jaskier, cheeks still flushed from his performance, downs his ale and shakes his head.

“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he says. “I’ve already made a few changes to the song.”

“Oh, have you?” Aiden smirks. “Does it now say Lambert, I’m alive you moron, stop hiding and fucking find me?”

“Well, not yet… But almost.”

“Great. I can’t wait to hear it.”

*

Lambert is staring at yet another local bard singing the fucking ballad. He doesn’t even blink. Geralt is getting a little worried that his brother’s brain might have actually exploded.

“It says a Cat Witcher now,” he says, hoping it would get a reaction out of Lambert.

The redhead finally blinks. That’s probably good.

“A Cat Witcher who comes back to life only to find out his Wolf lover has already avenged him,” Geralt adds.

Lambert blinks again.

“And you know, I’m almost sure that this Master Dandelion is just Jaskier’s new alias.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Lambert mutters when the song finally comes to its end.

“Which one of them?” Geralt smirks.

“Both of them!” Lambert growls. “I swear to gods, if I find out your stupid bard stole my Cat…”

“Excuse me, madam,” Geralt says to the innkeeper who’s just brought them their dinner. “Where did your bard learn this song?”

“That sappy ballad?” the innkeeper frowns. “From this Master Dandelion himself. He passed through the town last week with a Witcher.”

“And Master Dandelion…”

“You know the bard that calls himself Jaskier? It’s him with a fancy hat on,” she smirks.

“About this Witcher,” Lambert growls. “Does he look like in the song?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Kind of small for a Witcher, and almost too pretty, you know, but we had a little griffin problem and he slayed that beast like it was nothing, so…”

“I’m so gonna kill them both,” Lambert murmurs while Geralt has to try very hard not to chuckle.

“Would you happen to know where were they heading?” he asks.

“I would,” the woman says and looks at the Witcher expectantly.

“I see,” Geralt sighs. “You have another monster problem, don’t you?”

“Well. It turns out the griffin probably had a mate…”

“Of course it fucking did,” Geralt nods and picks up his fork. He simply refuses to deal with this with an empty stomach…

*

Jaskier critically eyes the clothes he’s picked for tonight’s performance.

“What do you think, Aiden?” he asks his companion. “Isn’t the purple a bit too much? It’s a small town, after all. Wouldn’t the steel blue look better?”

“I don’t know, I like the red one best,” Aiden shrugs from his spot on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Reminds you of Lambert’s hair,” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Melitele’s tits, I wish he’d find us already, because this is getting really–”

As if on cue, the door of the room slams open and a big, red-haired man walks in.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells when he sees Aiden.

The dark-haired Witcher beams and gets to his feet.

“Lambs!”

“Oh. Okay. That was fast,” Jaskier nods.

Lambert growls and grabs Aiden by the collar.

“Asshole!” he hisses. “I fucking mourned you!”

“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet,” Aiden smiles.

Lambert pushes him against the wall, so hard that Aiden grunts.

“I cried for you!”

“In my defense, it wasn’t exactly my fault,” Aiden smiles.

Jaskier inches towards the door.

“I guess I’ll just… leave you two to it.”

Needless to say, Lambert ignores him completely.

“I fucking avenged you!”

“Yes, that was very kind of you,” Aiden grins, utterly unaffected by Lambert’s angry face so close to his own. “You saved me a lot of trouble.”

Lambert groans, buries his face in Aiden’s shoulder and sighs deeply.

“You fucker,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I missed you too, puppy,” Aiden smiles, wrapping his arms around Lambert.

Jaskier, who’s already standing in the doorway, places his hand on his heart and takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” he whispers. “I shall write the most beautiful ballad about this… Ow!”

He’s unceremoniously dragged out of the room and this time it’s his turned to be slammed against the wall by a big, angry Witcher – but this one is white-haired and dressed all in black.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, his face brightening up.

“You won’t write a fucking thing,” Geralt growls.

“Is that so? May I ask why, dear heart?”

“Because you’re mine. My bard. And if I ever find out you’re writing about another Witcher again–”

“Then what?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head. “But before you answer, I’d like to remind you that I am not yours anymore, as you have made it quite clear on the mountain that you are not interested in having me as a companion–”

Jaskier is effectively shut up by Geralt’s lips pressing against his with determination that makes it absolutely clear that Geralt hasn’t merely lost his balance and happened to be falling in Jaskier’s general direction.

“Mine,” he growls.

“Well,” Jaskier sighs, slipping his fingers into Geralt’s hair. “When you put it like that… Fuck the mountain, I suppose.”

“Fuck the mountain,” Geralt agrees. “But I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“Apology very much accepted,” Jaskier laughs. “I’d ask you to fuck me, but I’m afraid my room is currently… occupied.”

Lambert’s loud moan only confirms Jaskier’s statement.

“Hm,” Geralt hums. “Do you think this tavern has a bath? I think I still have some griffin blood in my hair from last week.”

“Oh,” Jaskier purrs. “Oh, yes. And I’m sure I could get some chamomile oil…”

They hear another moan, this time Aiden’s.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Geralt grins and grabs Jaskier’s hand. “Come on, bard. We have some catching up to do…”

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #lambden #lambert x aiden #idiots in love #(but mostly they're just idiots) #aiden lived bitches #major character resurrection #they're stupid your honor #my fics #attempt at humor

[nevertheless-moving]

Ok so I don’t know if u remember that snippet u wrote about obi wan starting in Space Moulin Rouge but I’m obsessed with it. I want to know how that screening went down SO BAD. the entire concept is fucking hilarious and I can’t watch that movie without thinking about how delighted quinlan would be.

Thank you very much anon, of course I remember Space Moulin Rouge! May it put all the temple padawans through the same awakening Earth Moulin Rouge! put me through. I did actually write the next minute of the ficlet, but decided to cut it where I did for maximum comedic, so it picks up immediately where the fic left off. Here's what I've got:

Obi-Wan’s horror reached new levels. The entire temple had seen him...him prancing and, and singing. About love. He cleared his throat.

“Master Windu, I’d like to request a temporary transfer to a watchman position in the outer rim territories. I’m sure-”

“Request denied.” Mace interrupted. “Come on, Knight, on your feet.”

Obi-Wan staggered up, staring blankly into the void.

Master Windu clasped him on the shoulder and Obi-Wan almost fell on his face. The Master of the Order sighed. “Really, Kenobi. Everyone on the council assumed it was some bizarre scheme of Jinn’s. The Corellian Guilds assignment, right?”

Obi-Wan nodded, numbly allowing himself to be steered by Mace on one side on and Garen on the other as he accepted the fact that the entire HIGH COUNCIL had apparently watched him make goo-goo eyes at a burlesque dancer, or at least knew that he had. Master Windu hummed in acknowledgement. “I had wondered how he resolved that so quickly.”

“Well...now you know.” Obi-Wan continued to walk, shattered pieces of dignity falling to the ground with every step.

“Come on, Obi-Wan, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Garen assured him. “You were great! You won all kind of nominations and awards! I cried at the end, it was that moving!”

Obi-Wan almost fell to his knees once more. “It- I don’t even remember the plot- It was only two weeks of filming, really-”

“Oh now you have to watch it,” Quinlan said solemnly.

Windu sent a bolstering wave of reassurance through the force, which was immediately undermined by his words. “Really, Knight Kenobi, you're a fine actor. I’d recommend you for shadow work just on this if it wasn’t for- well, maybe in a few years.”

Obi-Wan whimpered. “It- it wasn’t supposed to be released with my name.”

“It wasn’t!” Bant reassured him quickly. “It was actually quite the mystery apparently, the Globes nomination committee didn’t know where to send your invite for the ceremony-”

He did not whimper again, but he wanted to.

“But at somepoint a Nabooian citizen put together the musical stills together with the holophootage from the, ah, Nabooian liberation parade-”

Naboo. Of course. All terrible things can be traced back to Naboo.

Okay, perhaps he was being a little melodramatic.

“Let me guess,” Obi-Wan asked hollowly. “The mystery already was a source of gossip, and when they realized that the unknown actor was actually a Jedi, the news really sunk its teeth in.”

Quinlan coughed, clearly still wrestling with amusement. "Yeah...you might not want to use the front door for a little bit. Or any of the public entrances."

I suppose I didn't have it in me to make Obi-Wan sit through the screening. Assume that everyone is genuinely impressed and—Obi-Wan's good! Obi-Wan is just embarrassed because he's him and doesn't like the attention.

Eventually the fervor dies down. Obi-Wan shaves his head, grows out his beard, learns to stop flinching when the movie is mentioned and instead laughs it off before changing the subject. Gets recognized less frequently the more time goes by

Obviously when the war starts and they plaster his face on every space billboard it becomes a thing again, because Obi-Wan is meant for infinite suffering.

The big positive from all this (though Obi-Wan in universe fails to see it as such) is that Anakin gets super into musical theatre. Turns out that having a Healthy Creative Outlet does wonders for his general...Anakin-ness. Narrowly avoids the Tusken genocide. [Maybe saves Shmi? Not sure how—return to later] Slows down his relationship with Padme just a tad. Dramatically improves his relationship with Mace Windu, since Windu is also a huge theatre geek, so that's nice.

#star wars #moulin rouge #moulin rouge au #ask #my au #star wars au no 24

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy II

SYNOPSIS: college AU. Armin, your brilliant tutor, invites you over to his house for some studying. Naturally, you're nervous and he seems to be giving you a reason to be.

PAIRING: SCUMBAG!Tutor Armin x FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: half edited, noncon/dubcon, fingering, non-penetrative sexual content. gaslighting, manipulating,

A/N: really need the motivation to write again and I've been slacking on my multi-parters so here's a somewhat highly anticipated one. Armin fuckers, this is for you. non-Armin fuckers, I hope this converts you

WORD COUNT: 2.0k

II. I.

“You’re not paying attention.”

You feel his voice right by the shell of your ear, and the proximity nearly makes you reel back in surprise but you manage to catch yourself.

“S-sorry” You apologize, wishing you didn’t stutter.

The thing is you’re just really out of your element. This is the first time you’ve been to Armin’s house for personal tutoring, and it was hard to focus on the material when his presence was so distracting.

It wasn’t like you were fantasizing about him or anything [well…]-you always tried to banish those thoughts as soon as it came. But still, being alone with an attractive boy with a disarming charm was causing some jitters. You felt like a shy middle schooler, on edge and jittery.

The last tutoring session in the library when he [basically] called you stupid plagued your mind. The memory of him feeling up your thighs lived in your head rent-free.

“Let’s take a break.” He sighs. Your heart drops at the noise of disappointment but you suppose it’s what you deserve.

You push your laptop lightly aside on the table, the bleak light straining your eyes, and ask for the bathroom. You just wanted to freshen up and be alone for a few seconds. The bathroom is meticulously clean, something even you knew was unexpected for a boy. You looked at yourself through the spotless mirror, scrutinizing every flaw.

You sigh, fiddling with your dress collar. Why you had tried dressing pretty for a boy so out of your league, he may as well be in Mars--you didn’t know.

When you return, there is a tall glass of lemonade waiting for you.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

It’s a simple gesture that makes you blush so you thank him earnestly. Like the gentleman he is, he assures you it’s no problem. Not wanting to prolong the awkward silence, you compliment his apartment, “This is a really nice place. So much light and space.”

You’re babbling but he engages you regardless, and you two are mindlessly discussing the benefits of living at off-campus housing over dorming. His words are pleasant but there’s a sinking feeling within you as you notice he’s bored. Or maybe distracted was a better word.

“So, do you have a boyfriend? Or anyone you’re seeing?”

You nearly choke at the question uttered through a buttery voice.

“Oh um, not really.”

“Not really?”

You made a mental note to answer in definitives. Armin seemed the type to snuff out anything he reasoned as half-truths.

“No. I uh, don’t have a boyfriend.” And then you clarified a pin-drop later, “And I’m not seeing anyone either.”

The blond hums a playful tune that’s vaguely nostalgic.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You don’t understand the point of this line of incessant questioning, and can’t calm your heart rate.

“I-um, I don’t-“

Taking one look at your serious face, eyes rimmed with worry and cheeks pink, he laughs. It’s a startling sound like bell chimes.

“Relax. I just wanted to know if you had any experience.”

The sentence flies out of your mouth before you can even ponder it: “What do you mean by experience?”

It’s not his fault if he can’t hide the feral grin that crosses his mouth right at that moment. You can’t discern his expression as you’re staring at anywhere but him, so you don’t notice the uncontained excitement that glimmers in cerulean eyes.

“Let’s move to the couch. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

You think about saying that you’re fine wherever you are and didn’t really feel like changing positions, but he’s already striding towards the couch. So you start packing up the materials, before a clear voice calls out to you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to bring all that. Just bring your flashcards.”

You hoped that wouldn’t mean he’d quiz you, but that’s exactly what he meant to do.

“Law of diminishing returns.”

“Wait! I know that one!” You brightly exclaimed, “ Uhh..it gives way to the catch-up effect which means poor countries tend to grow more rapidly and they’ll one day essentially catch up with wealthier economies.”

The blond ran his hand through his hair before sighing. You could feel your heart drop. You were sure you were right. Was your answer wrong enough to cause exasperation?

“Stick with the formal definition next time. I didn’t ask for the theory based on the law.”

You pouted, and Armin couldn’t help but relish in how eagerly you sought his approval, like a puppy performing tricks to appease their master.

“You should sit closer. Can you even see the word?”

You moved closer to him, knees knocking into each other. He looks down at the completed set.

“Well, you didn’t do as bad as I expected.” Ouch. But maybe he meant it as a compliment?

“But,” the corners of his mouth curled, “I’d say you’re still struggling.” Never mind.

“T-this is a new chapter though. I don’t think we’ve even gone over it in class.”

Blue eyes narrow, and you wonder if he’s going to give the well-meaning spiel about how staying ahead was the only way to keep up. That mantra may work for someone with high ambitions and an extremely good work ethic but you were no well-oiled machine. You had other classes too!

“Why are you so defensive?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the question, spoken so softly and casually, you almost miss the disdained lilt.

“Oh uh-“

“Listen to me. I quizzed you so I’m able to assert your skill level. And your response to my assertion is that it’s something you haven’t gone over in class yet. Do those things relate to each other at all?”

Meekly, you shift your attention to the rug.

“Answer me.”

“N-no”, you squeaked.

“And what have I always told you? The only way to keep up is to-“

“Stay ahead.” You finished, “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Did I say you could interrupt me?”

You could feel the blood rushing to your ears, unsure when the atmosphere had shifted. Your heartbeat was beating rapidly and you could feel your body go warm.

He sighed, and placed a hand over over your folded ones, squeezing your palms.

“You know I’m just looking out for you right? It almost feels like you don’t care-“

“No!” You exclaim, “I-I do.” Heat pools into your cheeks once you realize your grave mistake, “I-I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

The blond smiles radiantly and it nearly melts away all of your worries…until he opens his mouth to deliver another damning remark.

“You know, with your looks…you don’t really even have to graduate. Maybe choose an easy major and then get some rich husband to take care of you.” There’s a distinct lack of humor in his tone as if he wholeheartedly believed every word he was saying.

Your eyebrows furrow in blatant confusion, and in the back of your mind, danger signs are flashing at the back of your head. Your thighs are growing warmer. Oh no, this could not be happening right now.

“That’s what most girls’ dreams are anyways.” He inspects his spotless nails, “You chose this class because Ackerman’s attractive right? That’s why his class has such a high drop rate…silly girls join, not understanding how harsh of a grader he is.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but the next inflammatory remark he spews almost sends you to shock, “Though I bet, if you got on your knees for him, you’d be getting an A on those finals.” He laughs as if he was saying something particularly amusing, an undercurrent of spite coloring his words, “You wouldn’t even need me as your tutor.”

There are a million things on the tip of your tongue but no voice to speak them out. You want to ask him why he’s been so weirdly invasive, what his weird hang-up with professor Ackerman was, and of course, the casual sexism was really throwing you in a loop. Still, you have no doubt Armin could beat you to a bloody pulp several times over in a verbal lashing, and your mind was too fragile to deal with this.

You’ll sign up for a new tutor or better yet no tutor. You’ll get over your social anxiety and join a study group. You’ll go to all of Professor Ackerman’s office hours. Anything had to be better than this. You’re giving yourself this pep talk in your head but there’s no denying that your legs feel warm, and the self-improvement speech is withering away in your mind as it seeks to instead process how Armin fucking Arltert is touching you right now.

He pins you against the cushions, one hand locking both of your wrists. You’re shaking but your pupils are blown out wide.

He smirks, “There’s an excellent stress reliever for studying you know.”

You limp in his hold but the cocky attitude behind his words brings you back. You thrash under him, earning an annoyed growl from the blond.

“I’ve been so fucking patient with you, you know? Planning out your study guides, sharing my notes with you, proofreading homework, going over the mock exams—don’t you think I deserve a little compensation?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

He's right. He's right. Armin actually has done so much for you. Maybe it was too easy to take for granted because of how efficient he was, and how he acted like it was nothing. But right now, nothing really was everything.

He smiles. Yeah, this is who you were. Add just a little bit of pressure and you crumble. That flash of bravery from before was nothing but a petulant outburst from a child who didn’t know any better.

Armin coos, “Isn’t it a little embarrassing to be a virgin at your age?”

With unbridled precision, while he’s still holding your lower body down with the weight of his legs, he unbuckles his belt and ties it around your strained wrists. Red fills your face, and like always, you’re struggling to find the right words to respond. To say anything at all. Most of all, you can feel a wetness building at your core.

“I know the way you look at me, you know.” He kisses the dip of your neck, slender fingers splayed from under your shirt, “I know you’re into this.”

And because he is a scientist who must have evidence to back up his hypothesis, his hands find themselves under the waistband of your floral skirt that you foolishly wore, pushing the cure pastel underwear aside. You’re writhing in his grasp but maybe not as much as you should be, but it’s not your fault your movements are sluggish right?

“You have such a funny habit of not deleting your windows and keeping your bookmarks open.”

You freeze.

“This entire time I thought you were some prudish virgin even though you dress like a whore. Someone with who I had to be gentle. But all that fucking porn you read? Nasty. Is that why you need help in this class?” He punctuates slowly, "Because you're wasting your brain for something else?"

Immediately, you remember how you left your laptop on the table. You remember how many times he used your computer to double-check the notes, and you trustingly let him, forgetting that despite deleting your tabs, the hidden windows of steamy erotica were not yet erased out of their existence. Embarrassment violently paints your body.

He doesn’t wait or care for your response as he starts a vigorous assault on your clit with his slender finger, rubbing up and down in a vicious manner. The second finger prods at your entrance, feeling a tight cavern despite the amount of slick collected. Your eyes roll back in pleasure-is this what being with someone is like?

Stop. Get a hold of yourself. Why are you so fucking horny right now? It doesn’t matter what Armin said about you or how he called you out for the fiction you’ve read, because this is real life. But Christ, it’s Armin, the boy you’ve had a crush on since the moment he explained to you what a marginal abasement curve was. Stupidly handsome Armin with a gentle voice and too-blue oceanic eyes. Stupidly handsome Armin who coerced you into being under him.

You’re so fucking warm and tight, and Armin can’t wait to sink himself inside of you, can’t wait to humiliate you further. With nimble fingers he untied the ribbons of your dress like you were a Christmas present, groping your soft mounds and marking up your collarbone with teeth and tongue. Crystalline tears roll down the side of your face. You really shouldn’t be crying when you’re this wet.

“So fucking funny how you can’t look at me in the eye when we have a conversation but you read the filthiest fucking smut I’ve ever seen.”

taglist: @candy-hime

#tw noncon #tw dubcon #attack on titan fanfiction #armin arlert fanfic #yandere armin arlert #armin arlet x reader #armin arlet x you #manipulator armin #armin x y/n #armin arlet imagines #armin smut #tw manipulation #tw gaslighting

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half Demon and They’re- Oh Crap They’re Barbatos’ Kid!

This is the second part of that one request I answered for Dia and Barb’s possible kids. Sorry this took so long! Writer’s block, y’know? Anyhoo~ enjoy, everyone!

This story didn’t start on the first day of the exchange program, it started five days before in Barbatos’ room at three in the morning with the poor butler waking up in a cold sweat.

Oh dear, it appeared the exchange program would be up in a bit of a tizzy. He had… a child? Oh my… Barbatos hoped the young master wouldn’t be too miffed about the student not being a totally normal human.

On the day of the exchange program, Barbatos insisted he had to be present for the event, he carefully pushed a cushioned sofa in the drop zone before opening the portal. The child fell right out of the sky and landed perfectly on the couch, they were already wearing a helmet and looked quite shocked by the cushioned fall.

Well, it was a big shock to the assembled crowd, but the child gave everyone a lopsided smile and removed their helmet.

“So, I assume I’m here for the exchange program?”

Dadbatos

Well, this child was incredibly… what was the word the kids were using? chill? They were quite chill considering the situation, and was surprisingly prepared for the sudden drop into hell.

“Oh, I had a dream that this was going to happen, and I dream about the future n’stuff. I thought I’d come prepared.” “Ah, that’s very sensible.”

Diavolo recovered quickly from his shock and was positively delighted to meet this little munchkin. He insisted that they had to stay with their dad.

MC was polite, if not a bit overly calm about a lot of things. They didn’t run off to start trouble, and they didn’t seem very impressed by the Devildom itself. It was sort of like this child had a very low maximum level of excitement. Barbatos was glad his child wasn’t some little hellraiser.

He was never a child himself, so he’s a bit clueless about what children actually enjoy. Here child, have a… have an old torture weapon. Don’t use it on anyone who doesn’t deserve it :)

(I’m kidding, Barbatos is too responsible to give one of his instruments of torture to a child. That’s for when they’re older.)

“MC,” Barbatos knocked on his child’s door. “Have you done your homework?”

MC answered the door with a grin on their face. “Yep, done this week’s and next week’s. I’m getting a head start on the potions project due next week.”

Barbatos almost breathed a small sigh of relief. Thank the stars his child was responsible, it already took a big chunk of his energy to make sure Diavolo didn’t get distracted from his paperwork. Though, his stress levels did rise a tad when he got a glimpse at the mess in MC’s room.

“Are you going to clean that?”

“Nah,” MC shrugged. “It’s whatever. I know where everything is and nothing’s a fall risk. See you at dinner, father.”

And with that, MC shut the door. Well… no child was perfect.

As much as MC’s lack of cleanliness bothers Barbatos, he knows his kid isn’t being maliciously lazy, just for the love of the Demon King please stop leaving cups on the coffee tables without a coaster!

Oh yeah, Luke has a big sib. Sorry- little sib, because Luke isn’t some chihuahua child, he’s a totally mature grown-up Angel.

Barbatos is the type of father who will let his child go off and have whatever kind of fun they want as long as they don’t slack on their important duties.

Barbs also has a goddamn torture dungeon so we here at Stupid Headcanons inc. do NOT recommend trying to eat MC. Doing so may result in you wishing you were dead.

Don’t fuck with the butler.

Lucifer

…out of literally everyone in the room, the last person Lucifer expected to have a secret scandal baby… had a scandal baby. Damn.

At least the human wouldn’t have to live with him and his brothers. The last thing Lucifer wanted was for Barbatos to be even more aware of the chaos that went down in that house every single day.

MC and Lucifer have a healthy level of respect for one another, but Lucifer just can’t shake the feeling that this kid is messing with him somehow.

Just, little things… MC offering him fruit and loudly assuring him that it was just blackberries and nothing poisonous, asking if the RAD uniform suits his tastes, proclaiming that the dirt was high quality-

SOMEONE TOLD MC ABOUT LUCIFER’S FIRST VISIT TO THE DEVILDOM!

MC wasn’t exactly visibly goading him, they said everything with an innocent smile on their face.

When MC starts getting nosy with the attic, he’s not terribly sure how to deal with it. He was going up against a child that could at least partially tell the future. After the first time Lucifer told them to scram, they never went back to the steps… at least not when Lucifer was there to guard it…

After everything goes down, Lucifer is glad that MC wasn’t hurt or anything. He’d come to like the child and it’d be awful to lose the only person who could get his more hyperactive brothers to calm down.

Mammon

Mammon wasn’t present for the meeting, but when he was informed later, the news was met with an eloquent: “the fuck? Huh, wild.”

He isn’t too interested in MC at first. At least until the little runt saved him from getting busted for skipping class. Mammon was just eating his lunch in the courtyard when MC passed by and calmly told him that if he skipped class he should not hang out in the west staircase because Lucifer was going to walk down those steps during third period.

At first Mammon tried to brush off the warning, but ended up listening to the kid anyway, and what do ya know! He didn’t get caught by Lucifer!

That’s when it clicked that MC could see the future, right? Right?! Ya know what Mammon could use that for?! Right?!

Gambling! Scams! Schemes! General shennaniganery!

MC wasn’t terribly enthused about the entire situation, so they may have messed with Mammon a little. Just a bit.

It’s not like Mammon ever listened when MC told him to cut his losses and leave the casino anyway 🙄

Leviathan

First reaction? Thank the anime gods that there wouldn’t be another normie living in the house with him…

Reaction upon hearing that the MC was Barb’s kid? Really? Barbatos? Wow… well, to be fair Levi totally understood why someone would be attracted to Barbatos, I mean, Levi’s watched plenty of anime involving butlers, but Barbatos actually having a living breathing child? Damn.

But still, Levi wasn’t going to hang out with some normie brat. He had better and nerdier things to devote his time to.

Whenever MC visited, Levi was up in his room. But once MC decided to poke their head in the door while Levi was in the middle of gamer raging.

They calmly sat Levi down and explained to him that he could be upset about whatever happened in his game, but lashing out wasn’t going to fix anything or make him better at the actual game.

…damn it… they were right.

Slowly but surely Levi and MC built up a friendship, and the brothers rejoiced at the lack of rage related Lotan summons.

Satan

Out of everything Satan could have possibly expected from the second exchange student, this was not one of them.

Satan began to wonder exactly how MC’s powers worked, he didn’t exactly have any concrete data to compare them to because Barbatos was so mysterious

Hm, how very interesting. Satan decided that it was up to him to satiate his own curiosity and began to study MC. To be honest, MC wasn’t being terribly interesting.

They were a pretty normal kid all things considered. MC went to class, made friends, did their work, very very normal. Well, except for the fact that they seemed to dodge practically every unfortunate thing that could have happened to them.

They’d stop at the perfect time to avoid something accidentally being spilled on them, they always had pencils ready, and they always seemed to know exactly when a teacher was coming… mad sus.

Satan eventually confronted MC about this, and they just shrugged and explained that they tend to dream about what was most likely to happen the next day and would adjust their actions accordingly.

It may have been anticlimactic, but MC did inform Satan that there would be a cat in the courtyard in fifteen minutes.

HE NEEDED TO GO!

Asmodeus

Asmo had genuinely been looking forward to the new exchange program, he was excited to have a new face around the house to shake things up! He loves his dear brothers but spending thousands of years with them makes their shenanigans become a bit… well, a bit boring.

But my oh my, the new face was being obscured by that tacky bicycle helmet… the new face looked an awful lot like Barbatos…

Once Asmo registered what was going on, he was positively enchanted with the little half human. They were just so cute! They looked like a baby Barbatos with those adorably chubby cheeks!

Oh Barbatos~ he just had to let Asmo babysit!

When Asmo managed to sweep MC away for a fun day with shifty uncle Solomon, he was reminded of all the shenanigans that he, Barbatos, and Solomon used to get up to.

*sigh, Barbie was always so busy… no time for a fun night of torture, chaos, and revelry

Anyhoodles~ MC was always such a relaxed little thing. They let Asmo vent whenever any awful tragedies occur, like when Asmo finds a sweater that isn’t in his size… *sniffle*

Beelzebub

A child of Barbatos? The best cook in the three realms Barbatos?! …hey kid want to hang out with cool uncle Beel?

Beel tried everything in his power to get MC to make him food. I mean, the genetic disposition for making good food has to have been passed down from father to child!

When MC finally made Beel food, he was ecstatic!

…Until the food touched Beel’s tongue and he realized it wasn’t good, it was just… okay. Average. Passable.

Aw man… but the kid looked so excited to have made something for Beel…

Beel really hammed up his reaction to make MC feel better. Beel was like “Wow. So good. Amazing.” “Thanks Beel.”

Very sweet child, they don’t mind being used in place as a dumbell.

Belphegor

Damn, and here Belphie was, thinking Barbatos has standards. Apparently not!

When MC went and walked up the attic steps, Belphie was almost bouncing on his toes in anticipation. This human had been a pain in the rear to call up, so he was excited to finally get a good look at them. And lo and behold, a half demon child of Lord Diavolo’s butler.

MC grinned and greeted Belphie first, using his name and asking why the Avatar of Sloth was stuck up in the attic of his own home when he was supposed to be in the human world. Belphie was flabbergasted and didn’t exactly know how to respond.

He came up with a new plan quickly. Belphie didn’t exactly know how this kid’s powers worked, so he’d continue with trying to trick them into opening the attic door. Allowing Belphie to end their miserable little life and thus ruining the exchange program.

The child continued to visit Belphie up in the attic, relaying the events of what was going on, and Belphie continued to play the part of prisoner. Until one day in particular…

MC appeared in front of the door, looking a tad more unkempt than normal, they weren’t smiling their usual carefree smile either. Their eyes bore holes into Belphegor’s skull as they flared at him.

“How long have you been planning on killing me?”

MC had seen the future where they died at Belphie’s hand, and they sure as hell were not going to let him out of the attic after that. Though, they did tell Belphie about Lilith’s true fate before they left, and assured Belphie they had no reason to lie to him about something he wasn’t directly involved in.

So, Belphie did get let out of the attic eventually, and even though MC smiled and welcomed him back all the same, there would always a barrier between the two. Broken trust wasn’t easy to mend, after all.

#I just like to think that the kid just carries weapons with them in their bag #But they never use the weapons for what they’re SUPPOSED to be used for #Like- MC: Oh yea this is meant for pulling out teeth but it’s big and heavy enough that I can just clobber someone with it #obey me #obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #Obey me Headcanons #Obey me! Headcanons #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor

[jiminrings]

yoongi grills stem koo’s ass <3

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo wants to explain himself and yoongi may not want to listen

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

“the one that’s all knuckle?”

oh my god

IS THIS A RIDDLE????

yoongi tilts his head in amusement when this pathetic excuse for your past crush is calculating what he just said in his mind

what is a sandwich that’s all knuckle?? but it doesn’t even rhyme!!

aren’t riddles sUPPOSED to rhyme????

jungkook’s more than well-versed in stem-related problems that are just rephrased 237 times over and over so that it wouldn’t be as easy to solve

he can solve that!!!

but this!!! :O his mind is short-circuiting pls do not approach him

“hm?” yoongi’s smile patronizes him further and puts him on the spot, straightening his figure and jungkook’s quick to stop him from coming back inside your dorm

“i want to-“

“i asked you — have you ever had a knuckle sandwich?”

yoongi enunciates with so much clarity that kook finds his mind blanking, tripping over his words he hasn’t even formed yet

“i-is it-...” he stalls, trying to rack his mind for the bread he’s not sure he’s ever even heard of in his life, “i-is it like, a pork thing? uhm, t-the pig’s knuckle? and then you put it between, uhm, bread?”

,,,, laughable

jungkook’s supposed to be smart, isn’t he? or atleast that’s what yoongi thinks he’s supposed to be

lmao he would’ve laughed at the boy’s poor attempts if only he wasn’t furious at him

he’s dumb but not the endearing kind ://

“no,” yoongi drawls out, pretending to fish something out from his pocket

jungkook watches in intrigue, thinking that yoongi’s reaching for his phone to show him a picture of what it looks like

the hypothetical situation in jungkook’s mind is clearly not the one that happens

jungkook SHRIEKS as he stumbles on his heels backward — crystal clear to him that yoongi was not looking for his phone, but instead balling his fist and him being the receiving end

almost the receiving end

yoongi almost sucker-punches jungkook in a blink, fist literally a millimeter away from his nose and the only thing he could see at the moment is red

... red and jungkook’s wide eyes that have never carried this much fear up until now

“that’s a knuckle sandwich, kid. would’ve fed it to you if only y/n isn’t in the room right behind me.”

holy fuck

his heart is beating right against his ribcage and that shouldn’t be possible, fists closing upon themselves nervously as he tries to soothe his thumb so his mind relaxes

spoiler alert: it doesn’t work

jungkook’s mind is all over the place, even more rattled than it was when he takes a text without studying (he was so low he got a 98), but the only thing that’s clear is that you’re behind this door

“yoongi — mister yoongi, please. i-i need to explain myself, and if only you let me try, i can!! i swear. i’m not forcing you but-...”

there he is again

jungkook’s only been in his sight for like two minutes but his eyes are already sore

“why are you even here?” he scowls and even if the younger boy’s taller than him, every bit of his posture and demeanor at the bite of his words scream small, “why go all this length for someone you stomped on today, then have the gall to be a crybaby about it?”

he's speechless and it only serves him right, looking at his mudded-up converse and trying to focus on anything besides the guilt within

"m-my explanation," jungkook mutters, hands behind his back as if he's being scolded, “will you tell y/n?”

yoongi releases an agitated breath at him muttering your name

he dOESN'T get to say your name!! no!!! not after what he did to you

“i’m not concerned about you. what i decide to do or not, has nothing to do with whatever you say right now.”

kook solemnly nods, and even if yoongi's much harsher in your words compared to yours, the gravity of yours with him not being related to you cuts deeper

there's nothing else he could care about, actually

jungkook follows campus curfews to a T and would come home two hours earlier in the rare event that he goes somewhere

but now, he couldn't care less when the dorm master could just be there any second and he'd pass a hall monitor like usual

for the whole day, you were the only one that occupied his mind

"i know hyeji isn’t the one."

god, it was clear as day

he'll be the first one to admit that he can't read people very well, but he knew from the start that it's probably not hyeji who's been packing his lunchboxes

jungkook sometimes takes attendance in behalf of the professor because as much as he's shy, he's also a teacher's pet

the classes she shared with hyeji? she wasn't present everyday for the whole duration of two weeks, and how could it be that she still managed to make him a lunchbox if she wasn't present in the campus at all?

there was a probability that it could've been her, but it was so low that it sat right next to improbable

"i-i entertained the possibility briefly that she was, but then nothing was making sense the more i thought about it."

jungkook sometimes also checks papers because his professors trust him enough and he has perfect scores anyway, so he uses his own as his answer key

"i needed to interview y/n for an assignment, a-and a signature above a name was needed and it was just so familiar."

the moment he racks his head for hyeji's writing, it seemed fAR from the writing on the sticky notes on the lunchboxes

"then she seemed mad at me, but when i went to her on the field to try and confront her-" jungkook pauses and almost whispers the next part, the shame on his skin starting to seep into his bones, "she told me that we weren't related for me to feel hurt about it."

yoongi clenches his jaw, a pressure forming on the center of his eyebrows because he knows where this is leading

"a-and i thought it was hyeji again."

jungkook can't bring himself to be elated that it's been you the whole time because he might be a little too late; a little too late when he's already subjected you to the heartbreak you didn't deserve

"i-i didn’t know what clicked in my mind but i was just so hurt that-"

that's the fiNAL straw for yoongi

this has been him trying to keep his anger at bay the whole time, but this one!! this one he can't just accept

"you are a fucking asshole. honestly."

jungkook slightly winces with the sudden cussing, but it barely scratches the surface

"you think you’re the only one hurt? tell that to me who’s never seen y/n cry so hard before — or even cry at all."

his explanation wasn't an excuse and he knows it, but nonetheless, it tears him apart

"i’m sorry."

his lips quiver and he's trying sO hard not to cry in front of his senior, but yoongi doesn't feel even the slightest remorse for the kid

"i don’t care. you don’t apologize to me; you apologize to y/n. whether she forgives you or not, which for the record i don’t think she should, you cannot take back what you said."

if what jungkook said was eVER said to yoongi, given that he had the same circumstances as you did, he wouldn't know how to bounce back at all

it's a pain he doesn't wish to feel and he could only helplessly look at you who's trying to navigate it

perhaps you don't even plan to navigate it — knowing you, you're just gonna sail through it all to the point you're not giving yourself enough time to even realize that you already are

it was the same cycle of trying to move on without grieving through it properly that it hurts yoongi and seokjin and the tiny amount of people around you

"grovel at her feet. cry her an ocean. commit penitence. whatever you wanna come up with, no matter what, you do not make my y/n feel like she isn’t deserving of love."

you're family and yoongi goes above and beyond for family.

"i don’t care if you make up. i don’t care if you don’t. all i know is that in any other place besides outside the room she sleeps in, i’d hurt you like you hurt her."

jungkook almost wishes that yoongi punches him now and he won't even try to dodge it

"i deserve it."

"you do."

they whole-heartedly agree and it's the only time that yoongi can get behind jungkook's words

"i’m always gonna be on y/n’s side, kid."

there's no other way around it and as much as you know it or not, you've cemented your position in yoongi's heart unknowingly

"the only way that i’m gonna be on yours is when you’ve earned my utmost respect," he can't even see when that happens, crossing his arms across his chest, "and you don’t."

jungkook's tears are falling to the floor but they don't get on his cheeks, the sudden set of footsteps coming from his side making his head straighten and wipe his eyes immediately

he's the only one alarmed and he spares yoongi a glance, then to said person

yeah right that couldn't have been you :((

the guy who's approaching doesn't stop walking and he looks like.... he's uh,,, coming to where he's exactly standing????

he seems oddly familiar though

“oh, taehyung!"

where did he hear that name before??

taehyung stands at the same height as jungkook, maybe a centimeter or two taller, but he just couldn't stop looking at him from the corner of his eyes

yoongi's oblivious to jungkook's ongoing deduction, immediately engulfing taehyung in conversation

"y/n’s already asleep. i could do her part of the project-“

he offers because he recalls that right, you told him that taehyung's coming over to finish your shared project of a business plan late tonight

uhhhhh you're kinda zooted and going through it rOUGH so yoongi doesn't mind doing your contribution for you

“yoongi!! oh no man, it’s not what i came here for," he leans for a side hug, eyes landing on jungkook to drop a polite smile to acknowledge him

jungkook only slightly bows, confused but even more intrigued because he heard your name in the conversation

"i just uh, i just saw y/n crying while i was on my way home awhile ago, and i didn’t get to ask why, but i felt bad, so i came by to drop some cookies.”

oh

taehyung continues talking and it leaves yoongi and jungkook stunned, but he only focuses his attention on the former

“you looked like a hazelnut cookie kind of guy, so i baked some too!! is y/n allergic to peanuts? i put some too in a separate container in case she is.”

yoongi laughs and they go from there

IT'S LIKE JUNGKOOK ISN'T EVEN HERE!!!!

baby he's here he's nOT a hallucination!!!!

despite the fact that he's sticking out like and (unacknowledged) sore thumb, no one makes a move to take the conversation elsewhere

“thanks, tae. damn, you did all this yourself?”

yoongi whistles when he takes the tupperware opening it and almost watering at the sight

he doesn't mind baking cookies for you in case you wake up hungry, but taehyung really just did himself a nice favor without knowing it

he smiles softly, eyes narrowing in intrigue now that he realizes

"taehyung. no offense, but you’ve only interacted with y/n like once and it’s only for a project. why would you bake her uhhh 28 cookies?”

hehe

“35, actually :D”

tae interjects, waving him off when yoongi's jaw drops even further

“yeah, i know. i just felt so sorry for her — i’m not related to y/n but i just felt like i wanted to make her feel better.”

jungkook's jaw locks at this, his breathing becoming shaky all over again, fists balled this time

“it’s like,, economics!! i don’t actually know, maybe??? i’m in visual arts. y/n took over my part for me when i was sick-“

".... so you made her 30 cookies."

taehyung's the personification of a golden retriever and now that he thinks about it, jungkook reckons seeing him more than a handful of times

he laughs deeply at yoongi's rebutt and it may be in unfortunate timing that jungkook realizes he kNOWS him

he's in the same year!! he's the one that takes the portraits for the school paper and it's always his name in the credits

"good night, yoongs. hug y/n for me. tell her i'll take over her part, no questions asked."

taehyung walks away and he's perfectly content even if he didn't get to give you the cookies like jungkook thought he would

"night, taehyung."

yoongi looks at the retreating figure briefly, then looks at jungkook pointedly

he doesn't realize that he's still budging and listened on an entire conversation, dropping his head when yoongi points to the elevator

"bye, jungkook."

"good night, yoongi."

he feels hesitant to leave but it's probably for the better, putting his hands in his pockets still not enough to make his hands stop trembling

kook stops at the middle of his walking, turning his head to look back at yoongi whose mouth already has crumbs

"c-can i see y/n tomorrow?"

"i'm not her dad."

jungkook nods somberly, leaving it at that while his bulk of emotions consume him

he thinks all about the ways he could attempt to make it up to you, a million ideas in his head but his head doesn't hurt

his nose twitches at the lingering scent the cookies left, annoyed at the persistent smell and perhaps the boy that brought them

jungkook's never really liked cookies.

#WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT :O PLACE UR BETS BESTIES #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook scenario

[midnightsunnyday]

When With His Father, Diavolo Is A Lot More Stern, The Demon King, On The Other Hand...Part Seven (Final)

A/N: it’s the final conclusion for this series! Thank you all for sticking through it. This has been a fun headcanon to write. I wanted to write the Demon King in my own way, yet would love to see him one day in canon. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this series. Until the next one, stay safe everyone!

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

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

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

8:10 PM

Diavolo: before we leave, I suppose we should check up on the...oh.

*Mammon, head occupying the inside of a wall*

*Satan, buried under a bookshelf*

*Belphegor, sprawled out near a broken window*

*Solomon and Asmodeus, outside the window, knocked out and covered in glass*

*Leviathan, tangled on the chandelier*

*Beelzebub, torso jammed between a wooden chair*

Barbatos: Young Master, there you are.

Diavolo: let me guess, father threw yet another one of his tantrums after losing to Lucifer?

Barbatos: indeed.

Diavolo, looking around: though if anything, I'd say this party was an absolute success. This isn't half as bad as the damage he did last time.

Barbatos: Young Master, it is my deepest regret for not tending to you sooner. You were in pain, and I completely disregarded it for my majesty's sake. Had I only been more proactive, I could have prevented such a disaster. I am not worthy of being your butler. I will resign immediately.

Diavolo: well, I wouldn't say I was in pain, yet still, absolutely not! I will not allow you to resign!

Barbatos: but--

Diavolo: --you're my family, Barbatos. I couldn't possibly imagine you leaving my side, not now or ever. Without you I'm not sure what I'd do. So please, don't ever speak those words again.

Barbatos, blushing: Young Master I...thank you.

MC: aww.

Diavolo: now then, what to do about all this?

Barbatos: should we tend to everyone?

Diavolo: well, that depends. Father, are you still cognizant?

The Demon King, slumped over the couch: the fuck is a cognizant?

Diavolo: good. What say you, Lucifer?

Lucifer, flat on his back: where’s my MC? MC. MCCCCCC.

MC, sighing: what?

Lucifer: guess what IIIIII won?

MC: ....Me?

Lucifer, stretching out his arms: yaaaay. Now come...come give me a hug.

MC: no.

Lucifer, pouting: but I want one.

Diavolo: and what about the rest of you? Still holding on?

Everyone: *groans in pain*

Diavolo: well, I believe that settles it. Everyone's fine.

Leviathan: heeeelp.

Diavolo: just fine.

Barbatos: but Young Master--

Diavolo: --Barb, please. The last thing I need after an extensive therapeutic session is to be burdened with unneeded physical and emotional stress.

Barbatos: I beg your pardon?

MC: *clears throat* hi there, "certified" demonic counselor speaking. For the past 72 hours, Lord Diavolo has suffered through extensive psychological stress. Therefore, it is of my "professional opinion" that he, as we humans tend to say, "Fuck it."

Barbatos: I see. Though I am not certain of your qualifications, I do agree that the Young Master has been under a great deal more stress than usual. Though I must admit, this behavior is completely unlike him. Should I be concerned?

Diavolo: of course not. However, I've done nothing but run myself ragged trying to chase after my father. I think being a bit selfish for once won't harm anything. Besides, I'm sure they'll live, considering they're immortal, after all.

Barbatos: if that is what you wish, then I will oblige.

Diavolo: besides, I could really use something to eat.

MC: we still have some food in the kitchen, though it needs to be cooked.

Barbatos: then I will start immediately.

Diavolo: Barbatos, you truly are one of a kind.

Barbatos: and truly, I am humbled by your words.

MC, smiling: good grief.

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

*a few days later*

Barbatos: and?

The Demon King: and that such actions are unbecoming of a king and…oh, come now, do I really need to say all this?

Barbatos: I believe you should, yes.

The Demon King: *rolls eyes* and that it is within my birthright to not only set the standard of what is expected of royalty but maintain it at all times. So in other words…sorry.

Barbatos: very good, Your Majesty.

MC: it’s cool. Also, I don’t mind visiting you at the castle. Just don’t put me in a collar, please.

The Demon King, blushing: very well, little human. I’ll try to compose myself from now on. The same goes for you, sorcerer. I hope the gifts my son provided you are to your liking.

Solomon: very much so, Your Highness. Pegasus blood is especially rare to come by and will do absolute wonders for my spell casting.

Diavolo: let's just hope we haven't sealed our fates with such a gift.

Solomon: rest assured you have nothing to worry about *whispers to MC* when my empire is built, you shall be the first spared.

MC: I call dibs on evil ruler.

Solomon: oh MC, that's the only fun kind of ruler there is.

Diavolo: I heard that.

Barbatos: is there anything you would like to add, Lucifer?

Lucifer, folding his arms: not in the slightest.

MC: please?

Lucifer: …I’m sorry for beating Your Highness at a drinking contest.

MC: and?

Lucifer: and for teasing Di—Diavolo…even if it was hilarious.

MC: that’s as good as it’s gonna get, huh?

Lucifer: I’m the Avatar of Pride. Not the Avatar of Apologizing.

Diavolo, sighing: good enough.

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

*at the House of Lamentation*

Mammon: never again. Not for a million Grimm.

Leviathan: oh, so now you finally have standards.

Satan: crushed under the written word. An ironic fate indeed.

Belphegor: you doing alright there, Beel?

Beelzebub: so many splinters *shivers* I…don’t wanna talk about it.

Asmodeus: I can't believe I was knocked out a window. Thank goodness my perfect skin wasn't scratched or scarred. Poor Solomon, though. A fall like that would've broken every bone in his body...and it did! Good thing he knows magic.

Belphegor: though, isn’t this all technically MC’s fault?

Leviathan: hey, yeah! I can’t believe they just went off with Lord Diavolo and Barbatos and left us like that!

Mammon: I say we torture em’!

Asmodeus: ooh, how about we tie them up in pretty pink ribbons!

Mammon: and make em’ wear a cute, frilly outfit.

Asmodeus: with a tail!

Mammon: and those fluffy cat ears!

Satan: go on.

Belphegor: wait, what do any of those things have to do with torture?

Asmodeus and Mammon: torture what now?

Beelzebub, shaking his head: can we please just get some food and never speak of this moment ever again?

Mammon: and may we also never, ever, ever attend or throw another party for the Demon King.

Belphegor: agreed.

*text notification goes off*

Asmodeus: oh, Lucifer sent a message to the chat. It says, "All of you please make your way towards the castle. The king would like to...throw us an apology party."

Everyone: *groans*

Mammon: welp, spoke too soon. Yet think about it this way, at least we're immortal, right?

Leviathan: Mammon, shut up.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me demon king #obey me headcanons #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #midnightsunnyday

[troubatrain]

good for you - t. jost

a/n: one day it dawned at me that tyson jost really had just been hitting different lately, and so i just needed to write some filth about it. i'm thinking of making this a smut based mini series so let me know what you guys think :)

part two

warnings: it's smush time (smut)

I can’t believe you’re leaving me like this.

Mat Barzal was pouting, laying across your bedroom in your apartment whining about how you were heading off to Colorado and leaving him. It wasn’t by choice, you’d gotten into a grad program that was an amazing opportunity, separating you and your childhood best friend for the first time in ages. Mat was your friend by accident, a kid was picking on him and you got mad because only you’re allowed to do that and punched that kid square in the nose. Mat covered for you so you wouldn’t get suspended and you’d been inseparable ever since.

“This place is going to be too quiet without you,” Mat whines, dodging the book you’d thrown in his direction, “And not that I keep you to clean up after me but I do need you to teach me how to use the dishwasher.”

“How about you help me pack then?” You suggest, rolling your eyes at his inability to take care of himself. He’d always been like that, his own mother relieved when you moved in because it eased her worries about Mat burning his place down.

“You should give Tyson a call,” Mat hops up, grabbing a box and some stuff off your shelf, “Sure he’d be able to show you around.”

“Tyson Jost?” You furrow your brows, trying to clarify exactly who Mat was talking about. There wasn’t anything wrong with Tyson, that was the problem. Tyson was like sunshine in the summer and in another life, he’d be your dream man. He was kind and the way he talked about his mother made every one of your girlfriends swoon. Tyson had the kind of drive you respected and he just seemed so steady, “I thought we agreed I’d break him.”

“You agreed with yourself on that one not me,” Mat chuckles, shaking his head at your response. Mat couldn’t think of any one of his friends that he’d let date you besides Tyson. Tyson was an astronomically better person than Mat was, always the kind of kid his parents encouraged him to hang out with, “What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot?”

“I’m not sleeping with Tyson, he’s too innocent,” It wasn’t an excuse, it was the truth. Everything about Tyson screamed that he’d get you off but it wouldn’t be all that exciting. Tyson was a relationship type, and you weren’t and aside from the obvious sexual incompatibility - he was Mat’s friend. Despite his efforts, you always swore that was a line you’d never cross. Besides, as kind and endearing as Tyson was, he was still a hockey player, he just got away with it better than most.

“Just promise me you’ll call him? Especially if something’s wrong,” Mat pleads, a soft expression on his face even if it was just for a second before you had a t-shirt tossed in your direction, “You can’t let him replace me though, I’m number one around here.”

“I cannot wait to live alone,” You tease, laughing when Mat’s middle finger is thrown in your direction. It was bittersweet, leaving the comfort of having Mat around to buy you ice cream when you were sad and to take care of his best friend duties and onto a new adventure.

“You won’t be alone Josty will be there,” Mat jokes, his laugh bouncing off the now barren walls of your bedroom, “I swear I’m done now.”

“You better be.”

“I give it two weeks before you fuck Josty though.”

***

Just swing by her place, please.

Mat was like a mother who just sent their first kid away for college, and he was panicking. So, yes, he was begging Tyson to just drop in on to make sure your move was going as smoothly as you made it sound on the phone. Tyson could have been doing anything else on a Friday night with no game, but he was getting closer and closer to giving in by the second.

Tyson could admit, he wanted to see you, and he was excited when Mat shared the news you were moving to Denver. He looked forward to seeing you in the summer, carefree and light and so far out of his league he’d never even try. You made Tyson fumble his words, and every time he saw you he would think with his dick and he couldn’t focus on anything else. Above all else, Tyson wanted you to know he was a phone call away, a promise he made to Mat that he’d be there if you needed anything that he was going to keep for his own selfish reasons.

So Tyson was off to your apartment, a bottle of wine in one hand and a case of Coors Light in the other. He lifted his hand to knock, taking a deep breath and just thinking to himself, don’t fuck this up.

You knew that familiar tuft of curls in your peephole anywhere, summers spent watching the way Tyson’s curls bounced against his forehead whenever he spoke. This had Mat written all over it, no doubt your best friend put Tyson up to his welcoming committee bit. You turn around, boxes piled everywhere with nothing set up in your place aside from your mattress in the middle of the floor and your tv in your living room. Unpacking had been a bit overwhelming, and you may have lied on the phone to Mat that you were doing just fine. You take one deep breath, holding your head up high and pretending like your place wasn’t a mess.

“Hi,” You smile, leaning against your doorframe and taking in the man in front of you. Did he get bigger? Maybe it’s the hair, it’s longer. No, the scruff. Whatever it was, your feet were glued to the floor because you were stunned by the fact that Tyson Jost had gotten hot.

“Welcome,” Tyson cheeses, holding up the beer and wine in his hands and shrugging his shoulders, “I hope it’s fine I stopped by, Mat called and-”

“Told you to come?” You finished his sentence, Tyson nodding at your question, “Well, I have no furniture because it won’t be here until tomorrow, but you’re more than welcome to come join in my sad empty apartment.”

“I’d love to,” Tyson chuckles, bumping his shoulder with yours when he walked into your place. It was definitely empty, Tyson wishing he’d known sooner you’d be without most of your stuff for another day so he could offer up his guest room. It didn’t matter to him, his mind focused more on the fact that you looked incredible, a too big Islanders shirt and a pair of shorts that were leaving little to the eye. You were digging through a box, a small aha leaving your mouth when you pulled out a mug, “Wine in a mug?”

“That’s how Mat used to pour me glasses when we first moved in together,” You admit, gripping the mug in your hand tightly. You may have stolen it from your former kitchen, but it was a memory you wanted to remember, “You can sit, I mean the only place is on my mattress but-”

“Sounds like a tradition then,” Tyson hums, sitting down and leaning against your pillows, taking a sip of his beer. You sat cross legged next to him, pouring yourself some of the wine he’d brought over in that silly I <3 New York mug Mat bought for your first place. You settled on a movie, thankful you at least had wi-fi and didn’t have to make awkward conversation with Tyson.

It’s only awkward because you’re making it awkward, you thought to yourself. Maybe Tyson was doing it on purpose, peacocking around your apartment because Mat told him he had this weird thing about you sleeping with him. He wouldn’t do that, remembering every other time Tyson’s ignored one of Mat’s grand schemes because they were bad ideas, “Excited for the season to start? A few more weeks right?”

“I’m excited for camp to be over,” Tyson groans, snuggling himself into

your mattress, “My entire body’s on fire.”

Yeah mine too. You watched the way Tyson rolled his shoulders, clear pain across his face, “Ty’s let me-”

You were usually bold, confident enough to make the first move without the fear of rejection. It could be from years of watching Mat, a true master at his craft of picking up women, and constantly encouraging you to do the same. That’s how a player plays the game Y/N. Tyson’s brows were raised at you, a blush on his neck while he let himself sit a bit. You slipped your fingers under the soft cotton of his t-shirt, digging them into the knots in his shoulder. Tyson let his eyes rest, embracing the relief you were giving him.

Of course your fingers felt like magic. Tyson was doing everything in his power to keep his cool, and not blow this one chance he’s had with you without Mat’s stupid antics in the middle of it. Just ask her out, she’ll probably reject you, but at least you’ll get laid. Mat was right, he had to be because he knew you better than anyone. It wasn’t just some claim he made either, you didn’t do relationships, never giving your heart to someone else, “How are you good at this?”

“Tito used to tell me I had a career in deep tissue massages in my future,” You joke, Tyson’s head falling back to look at you while he let out a laugh, “Sometimes I think he just wanted to save a trip to the rink…do you mind if I-?”

You were tugging at Tyson’s shirt, waiting for him to nod in response and grab it from the back and toss it off. You never took the time to look at Tyson like this, eyes scanning over his skin and taking him in. Scars on his skin, no doubt from his choice in sport and one from that time Mat took roughhousing too far over the summer. Your finger curled around a loose curl at the base of his neck, Tyson letting out a hum, “I like the curls grown out Tys.”

“Keep pulling on them,” Tyson grunts, the words falling through his lips before he could stop them. You let out a small giggle, Tyson thanking his lucky stars you didn’t just hit him. He turned around, a glimmer in his eyes that you’d seen dozens of times before. Your hand stayed in his hair, gripping his hair softly when Tyson’s lips finally landed on yours. It was slow at first, testing out the waters and Tyson waiting for the blow of rejection. His hand was on your waist, hand slipping under your shirt and rubbing your skin softly. His lips moved down your neck, scruff tickling your skin, “Been wanting this for a while…”

“Yeah?” You muse, tilting your head back while Tyson’s teeth sunk into them. His grip got tighter, your breath hitching in your throat.

“If you don’t count the years I spent wondering what the fuck you and Mat were, then every summer for the past four years,” Tyson’s eyes had gotten a shade darker, flipping you over so you were underneath him, “Don’t act like you don’t know you’re hot, or that I’ve been mentally undressing you for years.”

“Now’s your chance Tys, don’t blow it,” You chirp, waiting for Tyson’s laugh to follow, except it didn’t. Tyson’s hands pulled yours over your head, grip tight on your wrists. What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot. Mat’s words were spinning your head, taunting you because there was a chance he was actually right.

“Don’t move them,” Tyson grits, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands pulled your shirt off slowly, stifling a groan when his suspicions about your lack of bra were true, “Be a good girl-”

“Or what?” You smirk, wondering how many buttons you could press before Tyson just railed you. This was new, welcome, and maybe you shouldn’t have assumed Tyson was the boring type behind closed doors.

“Or I’ll fuck you until you’re begging to cum, but I still won’t let you,” Tyson mutters, his lips pressed against your skin while his fingers hooked under your shorts, “So are you going to be good for me?”

Tyson waited for your answer, gaining himself a plus one in your book on consent and when you nodded, your shorts and panties came clean off. Tyson hooked your thighs over his shoulders and pressed a kiss to your clit lightly, “Don’t tease Tys.”

“Am I the first person who gets you like this?” Tyson groans, watching the way your hips were squirming every light kiss he pressed around your pussy. You were an alpha female, Mat’s words, never Tyson’s, and that meant that under most circumstances you were in charge.

“Yes,” You whimper, desperate for some sort of relief. Tyson had you wound up, in a position you were used to being in and you were eating up every bit of it. He finally gave in, Tyson’s well skilled tongue swirling around your clit, pulling a moan out of you that echoed through your empty apartment. You clasped your hands together, taking every bit of strength you had not to tug on Tyson’s curls, “Fuck, Tyson let me touch you.”

“Not what we agreed to, princess,” Tyson reminds you, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit. His tongue slid up your folds, Tyson climbing back up your body and letting his spit slide down his tongue and into your mouth, “Taste yourself babe.”

You nod, obliging happily with Tyson, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head at how fucking hot this was. His lips landed on yours, reminding you just how good you were being against your mouth. Tyson’s hand grabbed one of yours, intertwining your fingers with his, “Tyson, please I wanna cum so badly.”

“Where?” Tyson hums, sucking at your skin, undoubtedly leaving you a little gift to cover up for your first day of class.

“On your cock,” You bat your eyelashes, playing into Tyson’s game because you needed some release, “All over it, please-”

Tyson kicked off his boxers, taking his own cock in his hand and pumping it a few times. He tapped your clit the head, smirking when you moaned underneath him. This was better than he imagined, all of those unwanted dirty dreams about you that seemed to be more frequent over the summer. You let your free hand move, Tyson’s head thrown back when you lined his dick up your core, guiding him inside of you, “God, you feel so fucking good.”

Tyson dropped your hand, both of his large hands gripped your hips tightly while he slammed into you. Your legs with shaking from pleasure, “Fuck, right there, please I’m so close-”

Tyson wrapped one of your legs around his waist, hitting you deeper. His arms were on both sides of your head, his lips pressed up against your ears when he spoke, “Cum for me princess.”

Tyson’s deep groans sent you over the edge, your pussy fluttering around his cock while he fucked you through your orgasm. His lips parted, hips sputtering when he pulled out and came all over your stomach with a loud fuck. You both fell silent, the realization that you broke your own rule about Mat’s stupid friends washing over you. It wasn’t regret, it was something you couldn’t quite explain. Tyson finally fell next to you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, letting his light kisses trail down your shoulder, “Let me get the shower ready for you.”

You nod, letting your eyes follow Tyson’s ass as he wandered through your place in search of your bathroom. An aftercare king too? Maybe you were biting off more than even you could chew with this one. You grab your phone, rolling your eyes at Mat’s unanswered texts complaining that you’d already replaced him with Tyson. Your fingers dance across the screen, typing up the text you’d been meaning to send since Tyson was at your front door.

You could’ve warned me Tyson got hot, you know?

You didn’t even last two weeks did you?

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

[kyberheart]

A Deceitful Creation Part #1 -  Wolffe x F!Reader

Part #2

Summary: You’ve been trying for a while now to get pregnant with your lover. Knowing that may never happen, you ask for some outside help from Wolffe on the down-low...

Word Count: 1483

Warnings: 18+, piv sex, infidelity, pregnancy/trying for a baby, cursing, angst

A/N: Heyyyyyyyy.... I’m still here! I had some stuff going on this past week so I missed my Friday fic upload, but hey! It’s Sunday, only missed it by a few days so whatever. I’m still working on part #3 of my little Techy-boy story. Hopefully will be finished by Friday the 3rd! Heh... part #3 on the 3rd... perfect. ANYWAY I hope you like this little blurb I wrote. I wanted maximum sad with lots of OOF. I kept the summary and header as vague as possible to not spoil the end. Good luck in there!

(Ao3 Link if ya want it)

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Wolffe was different with you. All teeth and tongue and nails dug into the plump flesh of your thighs. The look adorning his eyes in this moment is akin to a knife’s edge; he was holding back as not to tear you to shreds.

Your lover on the other hand, well… he was the whisper of a cool breeze in the night. A cascading avalanche of stolen breaths and languid strokes. Completely and utterly tender with you.

“C-close Wolffe, almost…I’m—!”

He nods, stooping to kiss you, but swiftly retracts his head with a tiny scowl. He knew the rules. No marks that can’t be covered up, no pet names, and under no circumstances can he kiss you. This was just a mutually beneficial transaction. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I got you… I got you…”

He’s reaching down, down, down to make contact with your clit. You keen, dropping your head back into the mattress. He fucks you through your orgasm, spilling inside of you as your legs wrap tightly around his waist. You tremble under him as you come down from your high. In a blur of muscle-memory Wolffe is reaching behind you for a pillow. He props your hips upward with it, grinding into you a few more times to make sure his seed is in there nice and deep.

“If this isn’t the one, I’m not sure if I can help. Maybe what they say is true, maybe we’re all infertile. I mean, I’ve heard rumors of defectors running off and getting people knocked up, but…” He shrugs, pulling out of you to head into the ‘fresher. You sigh, staring at the grey ceiling above you. That really wasn’t the case. Some were infertile, yes. You knew that all too well…

“I’m headed out. I have a supply run to facilitate. You alright?”

Wolffe grunts as he snaps his scratched armor around himself. He wasn’t much for conversations after the act. Rather, he preferred to be on his merry way as fast as possible. It wasn’t so much to avoid catching feelings as it was to steer clear of talking. He was undoubtedly the most stand-offish of the clones you knew. You were often surprised at how easy it was to lure him into the bedroom with how hostile his demeanor could be. Though on second thought he was just a normal guy. Sex is just as fun for him as it is for others.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks Wolffe. If this one doesn’t stick I’ll leave you alone.”

He pauses to search your face. You smile at him, wrapping your arms around your chest with a sleepy yawn. A garbled message blips from his forearm, which he answers with a quick acknowledgement before seating his helmet onto his head.

“Understood. I’ll see you around. Say hi to my vod for me when he gets back.”

And with that, he’s silently leaving your apartment into the void beyond. In the silence of the room your mind wanders once more. You think of your lover. Where was he right now? Somewhere far, far away? Somewhere he was safe? Was he warm, fed, and happy?

The cool dribble of Wolffe’s cum down your thigh snaps you from your rumination. You glance at the clock, finding it’s already been twenty minutes since he’d left. More than enough time, you think. With a quick curl of your spine you’re up on your feet and heading to the ‘fresher for a nice long shower. Hopefully when you were out you’d have a comm or a message from your lover.

----------------- He hunches low, lips hovering so close to your ear his hot breaths could have burned a hole through your head.

“That’s it baby, such a good girl. Just a—oh, squeezing me so tight tonight, huh? This’ll be the one, the kriffing ONE. Gonna fuck you full, fill you up to bursting. Make you s-swell with my baby. Can’t wait to see you like that… all mine…”

You cum so hard the world around you dissipates into nothing but him. He growls, pitching you forward with his angled thrusts. His hips crush you into the bed as he cums right along with you. His amber eyes sizzle with freshly tapped desire. Whispered adorations mingle between the two of you, lost to the spinning darkness of the night. When you’ve calmed your heaving breaths, you reach up to grab one of the pillows above you. He helps you position it under your hips before kissing you roughly. Between pecks, he speaks with a heart full of gentle sweetness.

“I’ll keep doing this—you’ll see. We’ll have a little one running around before you know it. Our little adi’ka… yeah…”

His eyes grow distant, lips stilling at the nape of your neck. You huff, smacking his shoulder with your hand.

“I know babe, don’t worry. With how much you’ve been between my legs I think we’ll be having LOTS of them running around.”

You wink at him, leaning up to kiss him again. He chuckles, reciprocating your heavy prodding tongue with his own within your mouth.

“I just… I know we’ve been trying for over a year… what if I...”

You shoot him a frown, tilting your head up to look him straight in the eyes. The fact of the matter was daunting and sat like tepid acid on your tongue. If he knew he wasn’t able to sire children, it would truly break him.

“NO! You are perfectly fine the way you are. I’d know, remember? I’m chief medical officer here dummy. You—WE have nothing to worry about. It’ll happen when the time is right. Trust me.”

He smiles at you, the sight of which could warm even the frostiest planet of Hoth into the dunes of Tatooine. All your love, all your patience and turmoil and sympathy and curiosity and… kriff, you’re everything was him. All him, always was and always will be. Him.

-------------------- The vividness of your dream wakes you with a start. It seemed to be recurring the last few days, a memory of the last time you and your lover were together. You shake your head of the images that haunted you. If only he was home, you wouldn’t worry so much about him.

It had already been a few weeks since Wolffe had occupied your bed. A queasy feeling was beginning to settle low in your stomach. Your lover hadn’t been back in a long while, and you were starting to think something wasn’t right.

You rise to pee, realizing in the dimly lit hush of dawn that this was becoming a frequent occurrence for you. When your shirt brushes a bit too roughly against one of your nipples you yelp. Were they always so sore in the morning? Wait…

Could this be it? A surge of adrenaline hits you like a Hammerhead Corvette as you rush into the ‘fresher. Not long after, you have a small white strip laying on your counter. Your knee bobs with anticipation, head in your hands as you sit on the hard tiled floor. This might just be it!

As the lines swell in the tiny viewport, you force yourself to breathe as deeply as possible. The memory pushes it’s way to the front of your mind once more to taunt you, to make you feel a twinge of guilt at what you’ve done. With a groan you run your fingers soothingly through your hair. You knew you could do this. Joy, passion, and relief would pave over the deceit from which this baby would be born. Your lover would never know the truth, but it was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Forging a life, a family for the two of you was all that mattered right now.

The time is up. The minutes counted down with bated breaths. A scream tears its way from your throat as you see the result:

Pregnant

Before you can have a full-blown excitement meltdown, a beeping from the other room draws your attention. Your comm sits on your nightstand, signaling you of an incoming message. The words flash on the screen as you wipe tears from your eyes:

Dropping in to save a Jedi Master on Lola Sayu. Don’t worry, should be home before your pretty little head hits the pillow. See you soon my love. My heart is yours, forever.

Oh, you were squealing with delight now. It was finally happening! For REAL! This was a dream come true. A baby… you were going to have a baby! And your lover was going to be home by the end of the day. You wanted to comm him, send him a picture of the test, yell it to the kriffing UNIVERSE that you were fulfilling a long-awaited dream. Both of you were. You calmed yourself, resolving to tell him in person when he got home.

You couldn’t wait until Echo was back!

#star wars #clone wars #nsft #fanfic #sw #tcw #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #ct-1409 #echo #echo x reader #tbb #tbb echo #ouchie #angst #the clone wars #f!reader #wolffe #tcw echo #wolffe x reader #wolf writes

[mochegato]

Well, Well, Well, If It Isn’t the Consequences of My Actions

Continuation of Truth Be Told

Marinette was still trying to parse through the events of the previous night.  Time, advice from Tikki, sleep, hysterical laughter, and the alcohol she’d drunk as soon as she’d gotten home hadn’t really helped.  To make it worse, Adrien had noticed something was up with her and had followed her to her studio so he could make sure she was okay, so she hadn’t been able to continue her breakdown in peace, because that would mean explaining the previous night to him.  And although Red H… Jason may have issues with secret identities, she did not.

She looked at her notice-free phone again with a sigh.  Maybe she should restart it.  Maybe he had tried calling or texting, but her phone wasn’t working correctly.  That had happened before, right?  That would explain why he hadn’t tried to contact her yet. Or, maybe with a more sober mind, he had decided he really wasn’t that interested.  Or!  Or he didn’t remember her.  Maybe he didn’t remember anything about her and was staring at his own phone right now in utter confusion about why her number was in it.

She was brought out of her spiral by the sound of the bell over the door.  “Sorry we’re…” she started until she saw who it was, “…closed.”  Her breath caught for a second when Jason smiled charmingly at her. “Oh no, no, no, no,” she muttered to herself, glancing over at Adrien nervously.  This could not be happening right now.  He was supposed to call or text.  Not… how did he even know where she would be?  Damned bats.

Adrien perked up from his spot grading students’ papers, an incredulous grin on his lips.  “Oh my God, please tell me that’s Rose’s boy that you told to fuck off. Can I get rid of him, please?  I haven’t gotten to be destructive in a while.”

Marinette wrinkled her face in disgust at the idea of seeing that guy again.  “No! He happened after,” she said getting up to meet Jason.

“You ran into him after your date?  How dare you not tell me about him!” Adrien hissed at her as she walked away.

She turned around to face him as she walked away. “Oh, I dare,” she hissed back.

“Is he why you’ve been so off today?” he whisper yelled.

“Weren’t you going to go get some coffee?  Now?” She called back.

Adrien looked between the two of them and raised an eyebrow at Marinette making sure she really wanted to be left alone with this guy who was easily as big as her dad.  “Yeah.  I need… caffeine apparently.  Something for you too?”  She nodded at him, but kept her eyes on Jason.  “Hey guy I’m suspiciously not allowed to talk to, you want anything from the coffee shop?”

Jason’s eyes flicked over to him for a few seconds to shake his head.  “No, thank you.  I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you are,” Marinette whispered to herself, not anticipating Adrien passing by just then on his way out the door.  

“Heard that,” he grinned before leaving.  

Marinette glared at him but quickly returned her gaze to Jason.  Once she was sure Adrien had gone and couldn’t hear them, Marinette finally broke the silence.  “I was expecting a call or a text,” she said carefully.  “Not that I mind the in-person appearance,” she added quickly.  “It was just… unexpected,” she finished awkwardly.

“I could have sworn you said to meet you at your work,” Jason said a little more innocently than was natural.  Marinette smiled, but quickly schooled her expression and shook her head.  Jason smiled back and shrugged.  “Huh, must be the memory lapses.  Kind of hazy.  Things come in and out.”  He knocked his knuckles against his head lightly.

Marinette raised an eyebrow.  “Is that so?”

“Yep,” he nodded popping the P.  His smile morphed into a smirk.

“Poor you,” she pouted in mock sympathy.  “Then I don't suppose you remember the proposal.”

Jason's smirk dropped. This time his wide eyes looked completely natural and believable. “Proposal?” he asked apprehensively.

“Yeah, the proposal,” she prompted him.  “Don't tell me you forgot about it,” she continued, her own eyes going wide to match his and her voice turning timid.  “You said you didn't have a ring on you, but you couldn't imagine living another day without me.  You wanted to get married as soon as possible.  Oh no.”  She gasped quietly for effect.  “You have forgotten.”

Jason blinked a few times.  He was doing a masterful job of containing any outward signs of his panic.  Marinette could just barely see a few flickers in his eyes that he quickly tamped out.  “What? No!  No, no, no.  That’s just… No, no, not at all,” he stammered.  “It's just, that's so…” he chuckled nervously, “so not like me.  I'm just... impressed how, uh… how bold I was,” he offered.

Marinette watched him closely for a few seconds before she burst out laughing.  Jason's jaw dropped to the floor.  “You were joking,” he observed in awe.  Marinette couldn't answer.  She was gasping too hard for breath, doubled over and grasping her sides.  “Oh thank God.  I want to be mad but I'm just too grateful. Shit, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

Marinette grinned at him when her laughs finally edged down to chuckles.  “Well, that seems fair.  You almost gave me quite a few last night.  And your brother, I think.”

Jason grimaced.  “Was I that bad?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side in thought. “No, not bad.  Just… like when you just kind of stared at me for a few minutes, without saying anything, which apparently was because you were impressed but I thought it was because you were a serial killer.”  Jason chuckled lightly and bobbed his head in apology.  “Or when you revealed your face, no mask.  Or, when you told me your full name and your brother’s first name, and that he was your brother.”  

Jason winced at that revelation.  That would explain the dagger he was almost too sluggish to dodge this morning.  And the glares and lecture on the importance of security and identities.  “Maybe not my finest moment,” he conceded as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Marinette giggled at that.  “Maybe not, but you were extremely drugged and extremely endearing.”  She looked down, a light blush settling on her cheeks.  “And very complimentary.”  

“Well, that’s good at least.  I don’t really remember anything I said.”  He rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet, looking around the store instead of at her.  “So, did you want to talk about last night?” he offered a bit more casually than was natural.

Marinette could see the discomfort in his eyes even if they weren’t pointed at her.  She smiled kindly at him, hoping it would put him at ease.  “Why?  You worried that you said something embarrassing?” she teased lightly.  “You didn’t.”

“Not really,” he shrugged and looked back at her and relaxed into a charming smile.  “I don't embarrass that easily.  And if I said anything I should be embarrassed about, you wouldn't have given me your number.”

Marinette scoffed at him and leaned against the table they were next to.  “I gave you my number, so you’d stop giving me clues to your identity… and your brother’s.  Didn’t work. You were quite determined.”

“I must have thought you were worth it,” Jason smiled. “High me is a very astute me.”  Marinette blushed at the sincerity in his eyes. How was he still this charming even when he wasn’t blitzed out of his mind?  “But,” he continued with renewed vigor, “if I’d done anything too bad, you would have told me already, or kicked me out.”

Marinette laughed lightly.  “Well, you’re not wrong.”  She looked back up after a beat with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.  “So, the background check on me is complete then? You’re allowed to interact with me now.”

Jason rolled his eyes and leaned closer to her over the table.  “I mean, the blood sample results were good.  Your cholesterol is a little high, by the way,” he started thoughtfully.  “It was kind of you to donate though.  Very conscientious.  And you really should call your parents.  It’s been a few days.”  Marinette paled significantly as he continued to speak.  Jason grinned.  “And we have an appointment to talk to your first boyfriend.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and let out a relieved laugh. “You reached for the sun with that one and your wings melted.”  He looked at her questioningly.  “He would have told me if he had an interview with anyone.  We talk a lot.  Not to mention why do that when you could just interview him in person.  He’ll be in town for his tour next week anyway.”

“Wait… really?”

“You didn’t even know who it was?” Marinette laughed.

“I’m sure my family have been doing extensive research on you and they probably know, but I didn’t have anything to do with it. If there was anything bad, they would tell me, otherwise I want to find out from you,” he answered sincerely and taking her hand.  “The only thing I know about you is your name and that’s only because you put it in my phone. I had a vague recollection of what you looked like and being incredibly impressed with you, but that’s pretty much it. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come down in person, to see if…” he searched for the best way to finish the thought.

Marinette nodded.  “To see if the chemistry was as good as you remember?  To see if it was still good when you weren’t drugged?” she offered nervously.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed.  “You too?”

Marinette took a breath and looked back up at him through her lashes, giving his hand a squeeze.  “Yeah.  I was nervous it was all because of the drugs.”

Jason gave her a relieved smile.  At least he wasn’t the only one nervous about it.  He wasn’t alone in this.  She was navigating it with him.  He squeezed her hand back.  “So,” he started, leaning back to give her a roguish grin, but keeping a grip on her hand, “who is the ex-boyfriend on tour?”

“Luka Couffaine.”

“Guitarist for Jagged Stone!” he exclaimed loudly, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Yeah.  I mean he wasn’t at the time.  But now, yes.”  Her eyes shone with mirth at his awed expression.  “Did you want to meet him?”

“What?  No! That’s… that would be weird, wanting to meet your girlfriend’s ex and his dad.  That’s just…”

“I didn’t mention his dad,” she cut him off knowingly.  “And… girlfriend?”  He gave her a sheepish look and looked down.  He opened his mouth to say something in response but she cut him off with laughter.  “So, that’s a yes then?”

“I mean… if you’re offering,” he tried to say casually.

“I see.  This whole thing was just an elaborate scam so you could meet Jagged Stone,” she pouted in mock offense.  She looked past him and smiled.

Jason rolled his eyes and he leaned onto the counter so he was just a few inches from her.  “You caught me.  I exposed my secret identity just so I could meet a rock star.”  Marinette’s eyes instantly widened and her body went rigid.

“Secret identity?” Adrien asked as he set down her coffee cup next to Marinette.

Jason froze.  “I… didn’t realize he was back.”

“You are shit at secret identities,” Marinette hissed to him.  “Even when you aren’t high you can’t keep one.”

“I…’m still under the effects?” he offered with a wince.  

“And you couldn’t have waited to come see me until it has dissipated?” she groaned.

“No, I couldn’t wait to see you,” he said instantly, looking deeply in her eyes.

“Oh… um… okay,” she stuttered.  Her cheeks flushed deeply.  “I… would have thought it would be gone by now,” she finished quietly.

“Nope.  Still lingering.”  He made a vague motion toward his body.

“Yeah, go with that when your brothers find out.” Marinette sighed.  “Why do they let you go undercover if you’re so bad at hiding your identity?” she asked a bit louder.

Jason’s eyes scrunched in confusion.

“Isn’t that like first day at the academy?” She continued.  She made a subtle rolling motion with her hands so only he could see it.

His eyes widened in realization.  “I think I missed that day.  Police training is pretty boring… and corrupt.”

Adrien scoffed and threw his arm over her shoulder. “Bullshit.  You just don’t want to lose the bet.  Also, backdoor, no bell.”

“Fucking backdoor,” Jason grumbled looking down and shaking his head.  He looked back up at Marinette with a raised eyebrow that she didn’t see because she was glaring at Adrien.  “Bet?”

“There is no bet,” Marinette rushed to assure him.

“That she’d date another hero,” Adrien explained, pointedly ignoring her glare.  “I’m Adrien by the way.  I’m her…” he stopped to think about his next words.  “We really need to come up with a term for it.  I’m her in no way sexual or romantic life partner?”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “I thought we agreed on pseudo brother.”

“Right, right,” Adrien nodded.  “That puts me above Alya, so I like it.  But I still like mine better.”

“If I can interrupt,” Jason cut in, “Jason, nice to meet you.  And, another?”

“Also, he’s not a hero!” Marinette objected at the same time.

“How many heroes have you dated?  And she’s not wrong, I’m not a hero,” Jason added.

“Ooh, vigilante then.” Adrien nodded.  He started mentally running through all the vigilantes in Gotham.  “I think that counts, but you can always try that.”

“Let’s get back to the dating heroes thing,” Jason tried.

“But it won’t matter anyway, because nobody is going to find out about this,” her voice lowered and became very pointed.  “Right, Adrien?  Because we’re talking about someone else’s identity.  And it doesn’t matter because he isn’t a hero and the terms of the bet, which I didn’t agree to, I might add, were very specific: hero.”

“So how many heroes do you have to date for it to become a bet?” Jason asked.

“It’s more about how many heroes have had a crush on her,” Adrien answered with a smirk.  

Jason raised an eyebrow.  “How many have developed a crush on her?”

“Every hero that’s met her,” Adrien answered with a resolute nod.

“That’s not true!” Marinette exclaimed.

Jason nodded his head as he thought about that. “How many heroes is that? Approximately?” he asked Adrien, ignoring Marinette’s interruption.

“She’s met at least twenty-five.”  Marinette groaned at the glee in Adrien’s voice.

Jason’s eyes widened and turned to her. “Twenty-five?”  He turned back to Adrien.  “And they all liked her?”  

Adrien nodded with a smug smile.  “All of them.”

“No, they don’t,” Marinette insisted.

He blinked a few times.  “My brother met her.”

Marinette stared at him slack jawed until she collapsed her head onto the table.  “You SUCK at secret identities,” she mumbled into the table.  “Okay,” she announced loud enough to stop Jason and Adrien from continuing to talk.  “First,” she turned to Adrien, “that is categorically untrue.”

“You haven’t met twenty-five heroes?” Jason asked.

“Oh no, that’s a low estimate on how many I’ve met. But only like,” she narrowed her eyes and quirked her lips in thought, “three have liked me.”  

Adrien snickered.  “That’s not even close.  There was…”

“Second,” she said cutting him off, “your brother isn’t a hero,” she said pointedly.  “Third, he was a dick.”

“Literally,” Jason snickered.

Marinette smacked his shoulder and looked over at Adrien. “He was overly friendly, but not in a Rose way; in a smarmy, I’m going to manipulate you with my charm way.”

“That’s your opinion of him,” Jason pointed out. “Adrien said heroes get a crush on you so it sounds like I need to watch him around you.”

“Fourth,” she leaned closer to Jason with a hiss, “maybe you just shouldn’t talk.”

“I think we need to up the count too,” Adrien eyed Jason critically.  “Seems like we need to add a few new heroes to the total.”

Marinette stepped in between the two.  “And you won’t try to figure out any more about his identity, because that would be a violation, right Adrien?” she continued even sharper.

Adrien rolled his eyes but nodded.  “Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.  I’ll try but there’s only so many people in the hero adjacent community that fit his dimensions.”  

Marinette slapped him upside the head and he scowled back at her.  “Stop thinking,” she hissed.  “You’re a model it shouldn’t be that hard for you to do.”  Her smirk widened at his exaggerated offended gasp.

Adrien leaned back stared at her eyes slightly narrowed.  “Ex-model, thank you very much.  Which means I've been given a permit to think again.  And just for that, I'm going to.  Day and night.  I'm going to get out charts and diagrams, create association maps, cyberstalk people, all just because I can.”

Marinette groaned and dropped her head in her hands.  “I hate you. You can’t punish him as payback toward me.”

“You’re right,” Adrien nodded thoughtfully.  “I should make it up to Jason.  Say Jason, how many stories has she told you about our teenage years?  Has she told you about the first time we saw a movie together?  How about the first time we were at a sleepover together?”

Marinette’s eyes widened.   “Alright!” Marinette exclaimed loudly.  “I believe it’s time to get you out of here… before… uh… you say anything else embarrassing, Jason,” she insisted.  “Let’s go. Now.”  She pulled Jason out of the room by the elbow.  “You get to lock up Adrien.”

“Your coffee!” he called after her.  But she and Jason were already gone.  Adrien chuckled.  “Like I need to think to know who that is,” he scoffed taking a sip of his coffee and return to grading homework.

Jason waited a block before he spoke up.  “So… you want to tell me about the sleepover or do you want to let blondie tell me later?”

Marinette mock glared at him.  “Look, if we’re going to go over all of my embarrassing moments, we’ll never talk about anything else… ever… There’s a lot,” she stressed.

Jason chuckled and pulled her to a stop.  He picked up her hand and laced their fingers together.  He gently tucked some loose hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger along her jaw. “Is this okay?”

Marinette looked up at him wide eyed, but nodded, a deep blush gracing her cheeks again.  “Ye... um, yeah.  That’s… um, yeah, that’s okay.”

“So… history of dating heroes, huh?  Guess you weren’t that impressed with my skills last night then.”

Marinette groaned playfully.  “Okay, seriously, it was only the one and yes, you were very impressive.  The way you… were able to stand for a prolonged period of time after the amount of drugs that got pumped into your system… very impressive.”

Jason barked out a laugh.  “Why thank you.  I have lots of other impressive qualities I can astound you with.  How would you feel about a date so I can show them to you?”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that,” she grinned up at him swinging their arms between them.

“You know, I might not remember anything else about last night, but there was one thing I thought I remembered and I was definitely right about,” he took a step closer to her until their chests were almost touching and leaned down to gaze adoringly into her eyes, “you’re fucking hot.”

She let out a surprised snort, her face turning bright red and Jason smirked at her.  She buried her face in his chest to hide her blush.  Jason chuckled as he wound his arms around her waist and hugged her close. “Come on,” he whispered into her ear.  “I know a good place to get food right around the corner.”  She looked up at him and nodded, letting him pull her toward the restaurant.

Continued in Night of the Consequences

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @ashbrea381writings

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - dare #it's there I swear #Truth and Consequences

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

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

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

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

Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry ficlets #drarry drabbles #my writing #day 58 #drunk dialing #love #thanks for the prompt #send me a word and i'll write you a drabble #<3

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #imagine spencer reid #criminal minds x you #imagine criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #pls like this it took me so long

[simplydm]

I don't know if I understood my own assignment, but here we are either way. Introducing a shitty y/n fic that's definitely not actually about dropsbyponk. Enjoy.

I woke up to my phone going off with the master oogway remix ringtone.

I grabbed it and answered the call. “Hiii bestie!”

“OMG y/n where are you???” My BFF George yelled down the phone. “First period is about to start! You’re gonna be late for the first day of school!”

“Oh fudge! I slept through my alarm!” I jumped out of my bed. I put on my favorite outfit- a pair of Supreme skinny jeans, Yeezy shoes, and a super cool limited edition shirt with lemons on it. I went to put my hair in a messy bun, but then realized I couldn’t because my stupid ex cut off my fucking arm months ago. I went to the mirror and sighed. I was just so clumsy and weird. No boy would ever love me.

My stupid mom burst into my room, holding a bottle of white claw in one hand. I rolled my eyes at her. My mom, the Other Mother as I called her, was such a bitch. Plus, people kept calling her a milf (IDK what that means though LOL). She always told me how average I was, and I hated her.

“Corali- I mean, y/n, get out of bed, you lazy fuck! Your new owners are here!”

“My owners? What does that mean?” I asked in confusion.

“Your new owners.” The other mother repeated, rolling her eyes and taking a deep swig of white claw. “I had to sell you to pay for more booze. Now get your butt downstairs right now!”

I grabbed my supreme backpack and quickly packed a few essential things, like my supreme baseball bat, my supreme wrench, and my supreme fridge. My sight was blurry with tears as I made my way downstairs. I couldn’t believe that my own mother was selling me! Was it because I wasn’t quirky enough?

“Oh, and here they are now. Y/n, meet the Eggpire, your new owners.” My mother said with another shot of white claw.

There was an entire group of people in the kitchen, staring at me. There was an actual cat, a woman covered in flowers and vines, a fuckboy in a white hoodie with a huge gold chain, a red box, and a literal demon.

The demon spoke. “Oh muffin! Hello y/n! I’m Badboyhalo, and this is the rest of the Eggpire! We’re your new owners!”

And so I left my house for the last time, now with my new owners. We got into a van and drove away. I broke down into tears as my house went out of sight. I was really gonna be late for school now.

“Shiiiiit, what’s wrong, y/n?” said the fuckboy, whose name was Punz. He bit his lip and did a sick fortnight dance to try to comfort me.

“I just can’t believe that my own mom would sell me!” I sobbed, wiping my tears with my supreme tissues.

“It’s okay, y/n.” said the cat in a gay kind of way- his name was Antfrost. “Your mother was a bitch! We saw how she treated you, and we knew we had to come rescue you from her evil grasp!”

“She may be a milf, but not one I’d muffin.” Badboyhalo said, shaking his head. “Right Skeppy?”

“Skeppy!” Said the red box, who I suddenly realized was an actual thing, not just a box.

“I promise, we are a lot nicer than your mom.” The flower girl said- her name was Hannah. She adjusted the mirror to smile at me as she drove. “Don’t worry- just because we’re called the Eggpire and we all have red eyes doesn’t mean that we are bad people! Y/n, I think you’re gonna fit in great!”

Days passed, and I came to love my new owners. Sure, the Eggpire did some strange things at times, like go down to the basement and stand in front of this huge red egg and receive instructions from it, but otherwise, life was great. Even better, I realized that the neighbors on either side of the Eggpire’s house were super hot guys. I hadn’t actually seen either of their faces yet, because they always walked around without shirts, but I knew they were hot. It was just a matter of time before I met them.

One day, I was outside, sunbathing. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me.

“OMG can you move!” I sat up to glare at the person blocking the sun, and then gasped.

“Y/n?” asked Sam, my ex boyfriend. We had been madly in love until he had brutally cut off my arm. He was terrifying, but like, also, terrifying in a hot way. “What are you doing here?”

“Why hello Sammy Wammy 123.” I said with a huff, crossing my arms over my supreme bikini. “I live here now with my new owners, the Eggpire.”

“The Eggpire?” asked another voice. Me and Sam both turned to see a gigantic golden man walking towards us. “The Eggpire plot has a lot of unique storytelling aspects that should not be overlooked or considered confusing. Some people write off the entire egg plot because it doesn’t have their favs in it, being rude to the writers just on principle. Perhaps if people took a step back and were actually respectful to the story, they would also come to see what a masterpiece it is.”

I stared open-mouthed at this golden hunk. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.” I said, extending my hand.

“Oh! Hello! Im Foolish double-underscore Gamers, but cuties get to call me Foolish.” Foolish said with a wink. He shook my hand with a big smile.

“Hello, Foolish.” Sam said. “I was just telling y/n about how good I am at building and also redstone and also coding.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Foolish replied, taking off his shirt, exposing his rippling golden abs. “You know, y/n, I also build. In fact, I built that whole place over there!” I looked over and gasped at the array of beautiful pyramids and buildings in the nearby desert. “I’m really big and strong and have a lot of muscles.” He flexed his arm at me and smiled.

“Well my dump truck of an ass is the talk of the town!” Sam said. He also had his shirt off now, and turned around so we could admire his dumpy.

“That’s a pretty good dumpy.” I murmured.

“True.” Foolish agreed. “However, I do a lot of shift dancing, which means my ass is sculpted as hell!” He also turned to show me his dumpy.

I fanned myself. I had never had two beautiful men fight over me before. Foolish and Sam glared at each other, and then looked towards me.

“Y/n, I love you!” Sam said, putting a hand over his heart. “We’re made for each other! I may be your ex now, but we can go back to the power couple we used to be!”

“You cut off my fucking arm, Sam!” I exclaimed, gesturing to my lack of a left arm.

“I know.” Sam said, his chest heaving with emotion. “But I still love you, and it wasn’t actually my fault when you really think about it.”

“Y/n!” Foolish called to me, picking up some sand and letting it fall through his fingers dramatically. “I would never cut off your arm, because I love you too much. Also I’m 23 feet tall, which means I have a huge… personality.”

I looked back and forth between my green ex and the new golden love interest. They were both so hot. I knew I had to choose just one, break the love triangle into a straight line.

“Sam, Foolish, I know I have to decide between you two. You’re both amazing and super hot guys. So, I chose-“

“Drop those stupid boys and go out with a real man like me!” A voice suddenly said from behind me. I turned around and gasped.

“Grammy-award-winning musician Kanye West?” Me, Foolish, and Sam said at the same time.

“That’s right, it’s me, Kanye West.” Kanye West said.

“OMG, I choose you, Kanye West!” I squealed. I jumped into his arms and we walked off into the sunset together, singing the most romantic song in the world.

Nobody wanna see us together, but it don’t matter, no. Cuz’ I got you.

#ponk #dropsbyponk #dream smp #foolish gamers #awesamdude #bbh #dsmp #Eggpire #foolsamponk #speak up dm #if I become an author and this post gets found I’m murdering all of you /j #dm writes #dm’s cursed posts

[mane--attraction]

(Rating: M

Word count: 1318)

You peer around the corner into the office, and there he is, just as you thought. Dark wasn’t usually one to take a break when he started working.

And that was the problem.

You were...more worked up than usual. Not for any reason in particular, your body just decided to be a bitch today, and you haven’t been able to focus on much of anything. And not only that, but you’re not supposed to take matters into your own hands—literally. Not that it would compare, but it would be something. You got impatient, so you threw on something a bit revealing for the top and one of your shorter skirts for the bottom. Unusual circumstances call for an (in)appropriate outfit.

So that’s why you were here, seeking out the one person who’d be able to solve this, even though you also don’t want to distract him from his work and bother him. After all, you technically should be able to wait. And it’s not like you actually have a real plan beyond just going in there and propping yourself against his desk.

You take a deep breath.

You try and act nonchalant as you practically saunter and approach the corner of his desk, leaning against it...maybe getting a bit too close to it... “Whatcha working on?”

Dark glances up at you, taking in your outfit. “Figuring out how to cover for Wil’s ‘schemes,’ while also planning on what to do next.”

You shimmy a little closer, acting as if you’re reading the papers there. “Ah, so the usual?”

The look in his eyes makes you a little nervous, the way it feels like he’s examining you. You can’t let the jig be up that quickly; you convince yourself he's looking at you like this because of your outfit, not your behavior. “Yes, the usual.”

“Cool, cool.” Right there. Seems like just the right spot. Your hips wiggle slightly and your fingers flex while your eyes flutter almost unnoticeably. “Anything I can help with?”

That expression hasn’t left his eyes, but now that you’re right where you want to be, you’ve almost stopped caring that he probably knows what you’re doing. “No, I’m afraid not. Dealing with Wilford’s aftermath is a lot more difficult than you may think, and I have yet to figure out the logistics of the next plan.”

“Mind if I read them, anyway?”

“Only if you plan to not lean over my desk the entire time.”

There’s an undercurrent of something dangerous in that, as if he’s probing, but you pretty much either completely miss it or ignore it so you don’t lose your nerve. “Oh, j-just a little bit. Not long.” You turn one of the papers towards you before he can protest. In all honesty, you aren’t quite paying attention to what’s on there. You hope that your fidgeting looks like a normal amount.

You wait until a reasonable time has passed and pass the paper back to him. He hasn’t gone back to his own work; you could feel his eyes on you while you pretended to read. “There ya go. You’re right, that’s a bit above my level of expertise.”

“You could always bring a couple over to the sofa.”

“N-nah, it’s fine, don’t gotta.” You’re starting to wonder if you should have done this, come over here and loiter when you’re this needy and not thinking straight. "I could always just—" You impulsively move to the corner next to him. You can't get as close to the desk as before, but it's enough friction. Plus, even just little brushes from his elbow against your arm would be sufficient for now. "Tada. Now I can read properly. No more looming."

You don't like the silence that follows. It's scrutinizing, and every second that passes feels like you're getting picked apart. "Are you sure that reading is what you're meaning to do?"

Fuck. "Y-yeah? They're here, might as well, keep me in the loop."

"I see. Wouldn't the couch be more comfortable, then?"

Well, yeah, but not for your purposes… You laugh, but it's a bit forced. "I-if you want me to leave you alone, I can go, it's not a problem, honestly—"

"You've been acting strange ever since you stepped foot in my office. Is something the matter?"

Your heartbeat immediately kicks up. You really should have thought of a plan beyond using his desk this way, because you can't bounce back from this questioning. You just have to retreat. You move away a little too quickly. “I really should just leave you alone—”

“Come here, Pet.”

You stop and hesitate. “I-I don’t wanna distract—”

Dark raises an eyebrow. “It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?” He points to the space next to him on the opposite side of where you were. “Come here.”

It’s not like you have an actual reason to disobey, so you nervously make your way over. He doesn’t stand as he gently turns you by your hips so you’re facing the desk, and your shiver is definitely not from cold. You find your back arching a bit, and you quickly straighten up and hold onto the desk.

Dark rings the bell on your collar almost casually, repeating his question. “Something the matter, Kitten?”

This time, despite yourself, you reply, “N-no, Sir.”

“Then why did you come visit me?”

You don’t have an answer for that, and it takes you a few moments to think of one. “Just...seeing how things were going.”

“Hm. Were you, now.”

You gnaw at your lip. That tone is just...ugh. Your stance shifts as the silence drags on, legs widening slightly. His fingers brush against your inner thigh, and your breath hitches. He moves your skirt just enough out of the way to look...

You see his lips pull into a smirk out of the corner of your eye.

“Aw.” Dark slowly trails his finger down your spine. “Is my little kitten in heat?”

You freeze. You didn’t doubt he’d guess, but not that quickly instead of teasing it further out of you, and described like that? Why’s that hot— “I—”

“Wearing these clothes, bumping up against my furniture… Do you think I didn’t know what you were doing on the corners of my desk? That I couldn’t tell from the moment you approached, smelling so sweet?” He coos, his hand reaching your behind. “Poor little kitty. So needy, she couldn’t wait for Master.”

Shit. That’s driving you down— He squeezes gently, and the shuddering breath you pull betrays your state. You bite your lip so you won’t mewl.

“I’d have you warm me, but something tells me you’d be more than a bit distracting.” He tuts. “Seems my needy pet will need to make do with either my desk or my couch.”

You whine before you can stop yourself. “But Sir—”

“No complaining.” Dark’s voice leaves no room for debate, and honestly is not helping you. “I do have work to finish, after all. And you wouldn’t want to be punished at a time like this, would you?”

Your grip on the desk tightens, your voice squeaking. “N-no, Sir.”

“Good girl. Oh, and don’t make a mess, hm?” He chuckles. “Otherwise, I might have to make you wait longer for being naughty.”

“Wait”…? Wait— “H-how long will you be?”

Dark hums; you’re not sure if he’s actually thinking or faking it. “Could be half an hour, could be an hour. Could be two.”

Desperation rises. Two hours?! Surely he’s messing with you— His finger brushes against you, where you need him, and you gasp and roll back unthinkingly. He lightly swats your behind and growls quietly. “All you need to do is be a good girl and be ready for when I’m done.”

You pout and whine to yourself, and his hand retreats. “Yes, Sir…”

“Good kitten. Run along, now. Master has work to attend to.”

#d/s #lemonish #darkiplier x reader #female reader #afab reader #master/kitten #took the time to add in what i wanted compared to last night #still not the greatest but much better; im happier with it now #nsft #darkiplier

[pineapple-lover-boy]

Poly!Fuyuhiko x Reader x Nagito

Request: “I saw you do Danganronpa and idk if this is ok or not but can you do a poly hcs with Fuyuhiko,Magito, and reader???”

Fuyuhiko x Reader x Nagito

A/N: Never thought I wanted this pairing until now lol. Btw with poly ships I don’t it where two+ people are sharing one person. Usually everyone is is with everyone. If you want to request a poly where the reader or someone else is the main focus of the relationship than please be specific.

Warnings: non-despair AU, some non explicit nsfw content at the end

The Beginning:

The only way this relationship started was through you

Both had rather large crushes on you but neither wanted to admit it

Fuyuhiko was the definition of a tsundere

Nagito believed you were too good for him

It was clear how they liked you though

Both treated you better than the rest, albeit reluctantly

You had to make the first move

Of course, confessing to both at the same time wouldn’t be helpful as they weren’t exactly friendly with each other

It would be idiotic to do that

But you were a dumbass said with affection

And here you were

Both we’re definitely confused as to why you brought them to a park right out side of school

What business would you have with the both of them?

When you confessed it came out as a jumbled mess:

“ListenIknowthisiscomingoutofknowherebutilikeyoutwothebothofyoupleaseacceptmyconfession!”

It was just too awkward confessing to the two most emotionally closed off people in your class

Fuyuhiko did not catch what you said and just gave you a weird look

Nagito did

And he giggled

He fucking giggled

“I’m flattered, Y/N, but you have no reason to be with someone as worthless as me. Fuyuhiko would be much better for you.”

“W-what?!”

Now Fuyuhiko was really confused

Nagito turned to Fuyuhiko, “Didn’t you hear her? She confessed to us. I don’t know why she’d want to confess her love to someo-”

You quickly interrupted him before he could continue self loathing, “I know this seems weird. I was surprised when I found out I liked you both too. I figured if I confessed to you two together it would be easier to accept your rejection, or least one of you liking me back. It doesn’t sound as good as I thought it was at the moment but if neither of you like me could we just carry on our day like nothing happened.”

They both stood silent before Fuyuhiko spoke up, “Who said I didn’t like you?”

He whispered with a raging blush on his face

“Yeah, and who said I didn’t like you either?”

Fuyuhiko’s and your face shot up to look at Nagito

“So what do we do now?” You asked

You would have never thought that your crush would be reciprocated twice

Your question was never answered though and all you got was silence

Soon after they two left and after moping for a bit, you did too

What you didn’t know was that they left to have their own private conversation

They wanted to make you happy and if being in a polyamorous relationship was gonna do it than so be it

The Relationship:

It wasn’t clear to you whether or not they accepted your confession until the next day

They would walk you to your classes, sit with you during lunch, and basically just be with your for as much of the day as they could

You may be wondering when their own feelings would surface for each other

That comes at least a few months into the relationship when your all comfortable with each other

You’d notice how Nagito would fuss over Fuyuhiko getting an injury, not even thinking to blame himself in the moment

Fuyuhiko would often talk some sense into Nagito when he later would try to blame his luck

Unlike his usual way of talking, he would try to be a bit softer with Nagito

He knew that being harsh would only make things worse

Let’s go on to the more domestic part of the relationship

Cuddles?

Yes.

It would take some time for both to warm up to the idea but after the first time they’ll start asking for more

Nagito’a the little spoon, you’re in the middle, and Fuyuhiko is the biggest spoon

If Nagito wants to be the big spoon then he’ll have to compromise with Fuyuhiko by being in the middle

If it’s night time when Fuyuhiko’s sleeping and you both wanna change it up?

Let’s hope that Nagito’s luck will help the both of you

It usually does

Fuyuhiko isn’t a heavy sleeper but he isn’t a light one either

You’d have to be careful

Imagine Fuyuhiko’s horror when he realizes either you or Nagito is being his big spoon

If it’s you he’ll just get annoyed

If it’s Nagito, he’ll start to feel his manliness get threatened

Bitch what??

He’ll try to push the skinny boy off but if he doesn’t relent or starts shaming himself for even thinking of it then Fuyuhiko will easily stop, get comfy again, and just grumble into your hair as he holds you tighter

No one can come after you

You got bullied? Fucking obliterated by Peko best girl no one can change my mind

Someone is being petty towards you? Nagito’s pettier

Once a kid bumped into you really hard, where you fell, but didn’t say sorry or help you up

Nagito was there and destroyed them with his words

They felt like pissing themselves and a terrible human being

Fuyuhiko got really angry when hearing about it later

You and Nagito just put your heads on each of his shoulders and your arms around his waist he stopped

He just froze and calm down

Think of Lilo putting the flowers on Stitch

That was him with you guys

In the bedroom (nothing too explicit unless requested):

Fuyuhiko wants to be the dom

Really really wants to and thinks that you and Nagito will submit to him

But, oh how he was wrong

Nagito is the true dom

He wants you and Fuyuhiko to be happy with him so if he’s asked he’ll be the bottom

But when he slammed Fuyuhiko down onto the bed and started talking dirty to him-

You? Weak in the knees and begging for him to do the same to you

Fuyuhiko? Red in the face and if Nagito starts playing around with him he’ll start whimpering

Nights like those where Nagito goes full dom only happens every so often

Fuyuhiko needs his manly boost so he dons most of the time

He’ll mostly be trying to pleasure you both at the same time without short circuiting is own brain

He doesn’t talk too much except for some comments here or there

When he’s had a rough day he’ll be the opposite though

Degradation master

If it’s more of a romantic evening though he’ll be lighter with how he speaks

Aftercare is the best

Depending on who was the top that day, they’ll be the ones taking care of the rest

Fuyuhiko rests for a bit before getting up and cleaning everything

He gets water for the both of you and either leaves if he has business or falls asleep

Nagito will do the same except

You guessed it:

✨self loathing✨

Then it becomes aftercare for him as he talks about how he doesn’t deserve you both and how your too good for him

You get the idea

Just pull him down and either cuddle him or kiss him to shut him up

Overall:

It’s a fight for who’s the man in the relationship with Fuyuhiko and Nagito

If your a man or not, doesn’t matter

They see you as someone they want to love and protect

But no matter what, this relationship is about cooperation and self love seriously Nagito

I hope this was good! If you wanted something specific about the relationship please request again. I’d be happy to write some more about them!

#danganronpa #danganronpa goodbye despair #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #fuyuhiko x reader #kuzukoma #poly ship