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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Fourteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Angst, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Slight!Heartbreak, Begging, Ab!Riding, Throat Fucking, Oral Sex (m rec.), Sexual Aggression.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Your eyelids fluttered open, the world gradually shaping into focus around you. Confusion, muggled by the drowsiness due to your utter exhaustion, fogged your vision for a moment, until it cleared to the soft glow of the room illuminating your intertwined forms--Mattheo’s presence still enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

As you began to regain your sense of consciousness, a sudden surge of panic gripped you, tightening like a vice around your chest. Your eyes darted frantically, scanning the room for any sign of a clock or timekeeping device. The urgency of the moment bore down on you, the seconds ticking away in your racing heartbeat. Mattheo stirred, his awakening a slow unfurling of consciousness. His eyelids, heavy with remnants of sleep, flickered open, revealing the depths of his confusion. His brows furrowed, a silent question lingering in the lines of his face as he met your gaze.

In a groggy, half-asleep murmur, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Mattheo blinked a few long, slow blinks before his eyes, drenched in genuine concern, sought yours, searching for answers. As the realization of the situation slowly dawned on him, as he slowly comprehended your distress, his grasp around you immediately loosened, pulling away from you with a swift impulse.

"Mattheo, please, what time is it?" you implored, your voice laced with desperation as you tried to gauge the hour.

His eyes, still heavy with sleep, shifted to the clock across the room. Time seemed to stretch infinitely as his gaze met the numbers, and his eyes widened in shock. He whipped his head back to look at you, panic spreading through his eyes in the same instant that yours widened, both of you internally freaking out as the reality of what you'd done sank in.

"It's almost five in the morning," he said, his voice carrying the weight of realization, your pulse echoing in the tense silence that had now enveloped the room.

The pale light filtering through the window painted a surreal scene of dawn, a stark reminder of the night slipping away, carrying with it the consequences of your actions. The horror etched across both your faces underscored the need for swift action, but in that moment, you both were frozen, caught in the grip of shared regret and fear.

"Oh, Gods!" You finally said, leaping up from the couch, your mind racing with panic--the reality of the situation hit you like a tidal wave, and your thoughts spun in frantic circles.

Contemplations about what to tell Emily swirled through your mind, your heart hammering in your chest as you envisioned the countless possibilities. Creeping out unnoticed became your immediate mission, every step and breath need to be calculated in order to avoid detection. With your heart in your throat, you began to plan your escape, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

As your fingers tightened around the fabric of your clothes, a sharp pang of realization gripped you like a vice--your hair carried the undeniable scent of weed, alcohol, and sweat from sleeping against Mattheo.

"Oh, Gods..." you stammered, your voice trembling with panic as you clutched your clothes against your chest. Your frantic eyes met Mattheo's, desperation written all over your face. "I-I'm fucking screwed...I..."

Mattheo, still struggling to fully awaken, swung his legs over the edge of the couch and stood, his hand raking through his messy, disheveled hair in a gesture of exasperation, the muscles in his arms tensing and contracting with each movement.

"You, what?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion. "What is it?"

You were trembling, every fiber of your being vibrating with fear. "My hair...I...I smell like-"

"Hey, it's alright," Mattheo, sensing your distress, gently interrupted, his voice steady yet comforting. "Calm down, Raven, okay? It's bloody early; you'll be able to sneak out without anyone even noticing. No one is awake before eleven on fucking Sundays around here, let's be real..."

His words were a lifeline in your moment of crisis, his calm demeanor offering a glimmer of comfort amid your rising anxiety.

But your overwhelming panic refused to subside. "I just...Emily will smell it on me, I'll have absolutely no excuse, she knows I've never...she knows I-"

"Take a shower." Mattheo's eyes softened with understanding as he cut you off again, his mind racing for a solution. "Just...just have a shower, wash the smell off and tell her you fell asleep in the library...if she catches you while walking in, tell her you used the prefects washroom because you didn't want to wake her..."

His words hung in the air, a liferaft amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts. Take a shower, Mattheo had said, a flicker of relief trickling through your veins, pushing back the tide of panic that had threatened to overwhelm you as his suggestion sunk in.

Okay, deep breaths, you coached yourself internally, your racing mind slowly beginning to steady. Shower, wash it off, and a plausible excuse...the library, the prefects' washroom. It could work. It's believable.

With each exhale, the grip of panic began to loosen, replaced by a fragile sense of hope. Mattheo's idea, simple yet effective, became your main focus now, a plan to navigate the storm. You released a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, feeling some of the tension seep away. In that moment, you clung to the belief that maybe, just maybe, you could salvage the situation and keep your secret safe. The shower suddenly seemed like a sanctuary, a place where you could wash not only the physical traces of the night but also the lingering fear that had settled deep within your bones.

"Yeah...yeah, that might actually work," you said, your voice laced with tension. "Can...can you show me to it...?"

Mattheo parted his lips, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes at your question, the corners of his lips working hard to fight off an arrogant smirk. However, sensing your lingering tension and stress, he decided to skip the teasing in a surprising act of understanding.

Instead, he simply nodded, his expressions stoic and almost empathetic, and with a gentle motion, he directed you towards the washroom, silently acknowledging the unspoken fears that weighed on your shoulders.

As you stepped inside, a sense of tranquility enveloped you. The space was adorned in calming earthy tones, from the soft beige walls to the rich brown accents of the wooden cabinets. The ambient lighting, casting a warm, golden glow, lent an air of serenity to the room. The focal point was the walk-in shower, a sleek and elegant structure with transparent glass walls that made the room feel even more expansive. The shower's interior was fitted with gleaming chrome fixtures, accentuated by a tiled seat in bench, giving you a perfect place to sit and contemplate your questionable life choices, should you have had the time to do so.

So many thoughts swarmed your brain at this moment, watching as Mattheo padded toward the shower, turning it on and adjusting the water temperature for you--part of you cursed the Slytherin students, why was it fair they got private dorms, laced in luxury like this?

As you stepped closer to him, the nerves inside you intensified, manifesting as a persistent tremor in your hands. The reality of the situation washed over you anew, your palms clammy, and your heart hammering in your chest. The gentle sound of running water filled the room, its rhythmic flow serving as a reminder of the passage of time, urging you to act swiftly.

Sensing your returning panic, Mattheo veered closer, stopping in front of you as he met your eyes. Time seemingly stalled as he allowed his gaze to travel over your body, taking your clothes from your hands and placing them down on the counter before he met your eyes again, his gaze seeking permission before he reached out, hands finding your waist and tugging down your skirt. His fingers brushed against your bare skin, a touch so delicate yet electrifying that it sent shivers down your spine.

You felt your pulse quicken in response to his confidence and strength, unable to ignore how his movements flowed with ease, how he seemed so bloody in control, just as he always did--his every movement deliberate and reassuring.

You swallowed the jump of anxiety in your throat, unable to deny that being with him created a paradoxical sense of safety amid the chaos. Despite the fact that your life outside these walls was seemingly careening out of control, Mattheo's presence was a grounding force, a steady anchor in the storm.

"Might as well join you, yeah?" He murmured as he began undressing. "You don't seem to do very well under pressure, Raven...I'm worried you'll just stand there all day staring at the floor instead of actually fucking showering."

Your heart raced as you watched him shed whatever was left of his clothes, revealing the entirety of his physique that was utterly mouthwatering, for a lack of better words. His body was a canvas of scars, each one a testament to altercations fought and challenges surmounted. As your eyes traced the lines of his chest, your gaze was drawn to the stories etched onto his skin, mingling with the striking contours of his abs.

His figure was far from flawless, yet it held a raw, captivating beauty that transcended physical perfection. The scars spoke of resilience, and in their midst, his sculpted abs stood as a testament to his enduring strength. A mixture of desire and reverence washed over you, a profound appreciation for the strength that lay beneath his skin. You licked your lips, your body responding to the allure of both his physical form and the unspoken tales written across his flesh.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Mattheo..." you whispered, hiding your grin. "Sounds like you just want to shower with me."

Mattheo stepped into the shower, the water running down over his skin, and held out a hand to you. You took his outstretched hand, closing your eyes as he pulled you in close to him under the steaming hot water. The feeling of his skin against yours was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

"Of course I do," he whispered, his voice a gentle caress against your cheek. Your entire body tingled as his hands roamed over your back, massaging the knots that had formed there as a result of your stress and anxiety. "I want to do a lot of fucking things with you, Raven..."

"Yeah?" You melted into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he worked out the tension in your muscles. "Like what?"

"Like kiss you here," he murmured, his lips grazing against your neck. "And touch you here..." his hand slithered down your side, curling around to your ass, gripping a possessive palmful--a low groan escaping his lips as he did. "I want to give you pleasure you've never known...pleasure you'll never forget..."

"Mm." His words filled you with a sense of calm, the comfort of them washing over you like a warm blanket. You leaned into him even more, running your hands through his damp hair, loving the way it felt between your fingers. "You already have..."

"Not enough." Mattheo's muscles tensed against you, teeth nipping your earlobe. "Not even fucking close to enough, princess..."

For a few minutes, the two of you just stood there in silence, letting the hot water wash away the sweat, the tension, the anxiety surrounding the past few weeks. You were lost in the feel of him, the way he moved against you, the sound of his breathing in your ear.

Eventually, though, he pulled back, his hands cupping your face as he looked down at you with an intense expression.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice low and urgent, his dark eyes pouring into yours as though he could give you parts of his own strength, parts of his own resolve. "Everything will be okay, no one is going to find out...and besides, this...this is over...so there's nothing more to be worried about...you're just my tutor after you step out of here, that's it..."

You nodded silently, the weight of his words settling over you. There was a pang of fleeting sadness, a desire for this moment to linger even though you knew it couldn't. Mattheo's arms encircled you, his touch firm, almost protective, as if he was shielding you from something more than hypothetical prying eyes. The reassuring spell that were his words seemed to erase some of the burdens that had weighed you down.

With anticipation hanging thick in the air, the shower head jets pounded against your skin while streams trickled between your bodies. Mattheo, seemingly composed, spun you around and grabbed a cloth, meticulously rubbing a scented soap bar onto the fabric, lathering it with methodical precision. And then, before you could even realize what the fuck was happening, he began washing your body, his movements deliberate and controlled, covering every inch of your skin with his efficient touch.

You closed your eyes, letting your mind drift away as you surrendered to the sensation of his practiced hands, ignoring the complexities that screamed beneath the surface. As he finished washing you, the water cascading down your skin and the scent of the soap permeating the air around you, he pressed his body against yours, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sighed as he shifted your hair over your shoulder, grazing his lips against your neck as his hard, insistent cock pressed against your back. The sensation of his entirely naked body pressed against yours ignited a heat within you, a fervor you hadn't ever known before. A soft moan escaped your lips as he teasingly nipped at your earlobe, his hands firmly gripping your hips, creating an electric connection that sent shivers down your spine, even amidst the scorching heat of the shower.

"Matty..." you mewled, your head spinning as it fell back against his shoulder, fingers trembling as your hands found his, still tightly holding you against him. "Fuck..."

Mattheo huffed, his hands leaving your hips to roam over your body as you squirmed against him, electricity sparking through your veins and he cupped your tits, kneading the soft flesh, thumbs brushing over your hardening nipples, his breath a hot pant against your ear.

"If you want something, you'll have to ask for it nicely, princess..." he teased, his lips grazing against your pulse. "We said last night was the last time...didn't we?"

"We did..." you let out a breathless laugh, his teasing only fueling the overwhelming heat between the both of you. "But one more time can't hurt, can it?"

Mattheo grinned against your neck, his large, firm hands slowly moving back down to your hips.

"Filthy little thing," he murmured, fingers slipping lower, trailing cautiously between your thighs. "Tell me what you want, Raven..."

You groaned in frustration, your mind clouded with lust as he teased over your mound, one finger brushing against your clit, only briefly, but with enough pressure to send a jolt of pleasure through your limbs, melding your body against his, his cock twitching with need behind you.

"I...I-fuck..." you whimpered, almost embarrassed at how badly you wanted him, your mind sparking with lust for the power of his body. "I want to ride your abs..."

"Fucking hell...just when I think you can't surprise me any fucking further..." Mattheo groaned, squeezing you with enough force to illicit a squeal from your throat, his teeth sinking into your neck and undoubtedly breaking blood vessels before he released you and gripped your wrist, tugging you toward the tiled bench. "Take me...use me, Raven, I'm yours to fucking use..."

His words slammed your chest like a fifty pound brick, your entire body vibrating in place as he released you and turned to lay down, his lean body tensing and muscles rippling with each movement--your thighs screaming in desperate fucking need at the sight of him as he settled there on his back--his thick erection pressing against his belly, his abs glistening with diamond droplets, his eyes urging, daring you to come closer.

"Don't be shy now, little slut..." he teased, brushing his wet curls back from his forehead, that perfect smirk painted across his lips. "Come and fucking get it..."

Your feet carried you closer, lost in the pull of his eyes, climbing up onto the bench, body trembling as you straddled him once again, your heart racing with anticipation. Mattheo's hands immediately moved up to cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples until they hardened against his touch. You moaned softly as he played with you, your hips grinding instinctively against his hard, wet body.

With a moan, you began to rock back and forth on top of him, the water cascading over both of you as you moved. Mattheo's eyes were locked onto yours, a dark fire burning in his gaze that sent shivers down your spine.

"Fuck-you're so fucking sexy," he whispered, his hands trailing down your body until they found your hips, aiding you in moving against him. "Look at what I do to you...the power I fucking hold over you and I haven't even fucked you..."

You shuddered at his words, silently acknowledging them in your head, knowing that what you were doing right now was unlike anything you'd ever fucking imagined you be doing, making yourself cum from grinding on his fucking body--ready to reach your high without him even having to touch you. It was a moment of silent realization, forcing you to acknowledge your desires. That's how much you desired this man, that's how much power he held over you. He was right, he was always fucking right. You were helpless to fight it, helpless to resist.

"Fuck..." the pleasure was overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely. You couldn't help but moan loudly, the sound echoing off the steamy walls as Mattheo's fingers dug into your skin, leaving deep red marks in their wake. "Gods, Matty...shit..."

The water fuelled the heat against your skin, steam rising up around you like a lingering ghost. Droplets dripped from your hair, running down your body. Your skin flushed with exertion, all your focus locked on the messy haired, complicated man sprawled out below you, his dark eyes piercing into yours, his gaze darkened with lust and his lips parted in utter fascination.

"Yeah, you like that, baby?" He growled, the muscles in his abs tensing underneath you, intensifying the sensations coursing through your limbs, his hands trailing up your sides. "You like using me like this, don't you? Using me like I fucking used you..."

"Y-yes, fuck..." you mewled, your lungs sputtering as Mattheo squeezed your breast with one hand, the other moving back down to your heat, bringing his fingers to your clit. You moaned, far louder than you intended, head falling back as the world around you slipped away, your only focus being the electric pleasure wrought from the possessed man beneath you. "Gods, I love your abs, Matty...I fucking love your body..."

"Yeah, yeah you fucking do..." Mattheo's voice left his throat in a growl, his movements becoming more precise and focused. His muscles flexed and rippled beneath you as he brought you closer to orgasm. You cried out as the pleasure overwhelmed you, your body shuddering with ecstasy. "Remember this...remember it when some other stupid prat asks you out...remember it when my brother hits on you...remember it when you're alone at night and fucking thinking of me..."

"Oh, fuck...I-I..." whatever you were going to say was abruptly cut off as your orgasm charged you, banging at the door and demanding to be let in, your body trembling and convulsing, eyes rolling. "I'm-I'm going to cum, Matty..."

"Did I say you that you could?" Mattheo hissed, the words spat through barred teeth, his grip on your breast tightening, eliciting another gasp of pleasure from your lips. "You know what I want to fucking hear, princess..."

As his abs tensed beneath you, you felt your body climbing higher towards orgasm. The pleasure within you was unlike anything you had ever experienced, its ferocity almost overwhelming to the senses.

"Oh, Gods," you gasped, voice torn. "Please! Please let me fucking cum, Mattheo..."

"Shit..." Mattheo continued to stroke your clit with expertise, using just the right amount of pressure and speed to keep you on edge and gasping for more. You felt your body shudder and writhe above him, waves of pleasure rippling through you as he brought you ever closer to the brink. "One last time, Raven, cum for me...fucking cum for me...."

As Mattheo's fingers sped their pace, working furiously against your most sensitive spot, your entire body tensed for a few seconds before waves of intense pleasure coursed through your veins, wracking your sanity at its seams.

Unable to comprehend it, you screamed. "Fuck...fuck, yes..."

Every muscle in your body clenched and all thoughts were obliterated from your mind as you were consumed by the delicious sense of release. As your orgasm reached its peak, Mattheo's fingers never stopped their relentless assault, drawing out your pleasure with every passing second. The euphoric sensation radiated throughout your body like ripples in a pond, your back arching and your nails digging into the strong muscles on Mattheo's chest as you rode out your orgasm, collapsing down against him once you had.

"Raven..." he whispered, his voice shredded with desire, hips bucking up against you. "Get on your fucking knees for me."

Your stomach leapt with excitement, not needing a millisecond to contemplate your next actions as you climbed off him and positioned yourself on your knees in front of the bench, warm water cascading around your skin, washing away the remnants of your orgasm as Mattheo rose to his feet, fisting his throbbing cock with one hand while the other gripped your hair, urging your parted lips toward his length, twitching in anticipation and glistening with precum.

His salty taste coated your tongue as he slowly thrust into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours for a even singular second. You could feel the excitement building within you once again as you began urging your head back and fourth along his shaft, revelling in the feeling of his smooth heat between your lips, savouring the feeling for as long as you could.

Gods, just to have him in your mouth again was enough to grind your thighs together, sore clit swelling for more--groaning, you clutched his thigh for balance, bobbing your head, swallowing inch after inch with every dip of your neck.

"That's it." Mattheo's fingers dug into your scalp, the familiar sweet sting making your eyes water. He surprised you with a sharp thrust, pushing further into your throat, and you wailed--muffled by his length as he drove deeper and deeper. "That's it--fuck--listen to you. You can't get enough of this cock, can you?"

You couldn't respond--he was slamming into your mouth. Tears brimmed your eyes, and you folded your lips around your teeth, sucking hard against him.

He growled and ripped you from his length, holding you by your hair. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

"I-I can't," you whined, shame searing your skin, "it's never enough..."

"That's right, that's fucking right..." he sank into your throat again, hips snapping with fierce, angry strokes. "You're a filthy little slut. Desperate to fucking please me...desperate to be mine, even though you're ashamed to fucking admit it..."

The pulsing at your tongue became desperate, rapid--he was close. You moaned in agreement, hoping it was enough to satisfy him--because, after all, he was right. A wave of shame engulfed you, crashing over your conscience like a relentless storm. How could you possibly want someone so inherently opposite to everything you believed in?

He embodied a carefree, easygoing lifestyle, a man unburdened by the constraints of education or goals. His rough edges and rebellious spirit clashed with your meticulously planned world of ambitions and studies. He was the epitome of trouble, a stark contrast to everything you should have been attracted to. And yet, here you were, time after time, inexplicably drawn to him, your desires defying all fucking logic and reason.

Seething with pleasure, Mattheo's hips thrashed, and he yanked your head free, holding it still while he savagely fucked his fist.

"Beg for my cum." His voice was ragged, he shuddered as he held off his peak. "Beg for it-fucking slut."

You whined. "Please give me your cum, Mattheo, please!"

"Fuck, yes," he hissed, "fuck--"

A deep moan choked in his throat and he sputtered your name, his cock twitching as it shot jets of white cum onto your tongue, the salty taste of his release spilling out over your palate as you swallowed it down greedily, savouring the taste as he held you there, his head bowed and chest heaving in the wake of his climax, until he had seemingly gathered himself and finally released you.

As you pulled yourself up to your feet, Mattheo met your eyes, his breath still coming to him in shallow bursts as he regained his footing in reality. Silence hung heavy between you as you both stepped out of the shower without exchanging another word, the air thick with unspoken emotions and the weight of the agreement you had tacitly made. Another shared glance passed between you, a wordless acknowledgment of the finality of this moment.

Your hands trembled slightly as you dried yourself off, the soft fabric of the towel absorbing both water and the remnants of your shared intimacy. Your mind reeled with the passing moments, how every touch--every movement was laced with a bittersweet awareness, a bittersweet acknowledgement that this was the last time. The last time you'd feel his skin against yours, the last time you'd share a kiss, taste the salt of his lips, among the salt of other things.

Dressing in the quiet aftermath, you fought to steady your breath, grappling with the storm of emotions inside you. It was a struggle to keep your composure, to suppress the ache that had settled in your chest. Each article of clothing you put on felt like a barrier, a shield against the vulnerability that threatened to consume you. Mattheo's presence in the room was both comforting and agonizing. His body, once so intimately close, now seemed miles away. As you caught his eyes for a moment, there was a flicker of something, a mixture of regret and longing, mirroring your own internal turmoil.

This was it. The final chapter in a story you had never intended to write, a tale of passion and connection that had defied the boundaries of reason.

As you reached the door, you spun back around to face him, and your eyes briefly flickered towards an astronomy book seated on his desk--a puzzling sight, since you knew he had little interest in stars, or studying, for that matter. It was a stark reminder of the disparities between your worlds, a tangible representation of the divide that had always existed. Yet, before you could dwell on the thought any further, his voice cut through the air, drawing your attention back to him.

"See you Wednesday…for tutoring," he said, his tone steady and businesslike, as if the intimate moments shared in the shower were but a distant memory.

With a nod, you mustered a weak smile, concealing the storm of emotions within you, and replied, "Yeah, Wednesday."

The finality of his words hung in the air, a reminder that your relationship was now confined to the realm of academia, a reality you couldn't escape. As you made your way towards the door, you stole one last glance at him, the man who had turned your world upside down in the span of a few stolen moments. With a heavy heart, you stepped into the hallway, leaving behind the echoes of what could never be.

————————

Chapter fifteen->

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darthannie · 8 months

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kinktober day two: somnophilia with raymond leon

pairing: Raymond Leon x f!reader word count: 712 warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, somnophilia, basically dbf (dad's business friend) a/n: Writing somno is a challenge for me but I'll accept it every time. Enjoy!

Kinktober Masterlist

Your father had more than enough time to set you up for centuries. He gave you 50 years as a gift for your 25th birthday. That was around the time you met Raymond Leon. He was a timekeeper hired by your father to investigate a string of time theft going on in his company.

He spent a lot of time at your house, working out of one of the offices your father had set up on the estate. He was never home, so the house was completely void of anything stopping you from being with Raymond.

You and Raymond had set up an arrangement. Not quite a relationship, but you were his and his alone. He wasn’t the doting man you’d always wanted, but there was a thrill that ran through your body whenever you were around him.

His dark hair and light eyes did a number on you. The first time you felt his hands touch your smooth skin was a day you’d never forget. Since that day, he had you, hook, line, and sinker. And because of you, he had all the time in the world.

On one particular day, he found you asleep in your bed under a fleece blanket. That’s a shame, he thought. He had expected you awake and waiting but, making the most of it, he thought he’d play a little game. He wondered how long it would take for you to wake up.

He removed his trench coat and reached for your blanket. He dragged it off, slowly revealing your naked body. He breathed out and blood rushed down to his dick. He took this as an invitation, a bright green light telling him “go”.

He started by softly grabbing your breast, feeling your soft skin in his hand. He pulled down his pants and started stroking himself, contemplating his next move. You breathed out softly and hummed. She must be dreaming, he assumed.

You rolled over onto your side, arching your back and making your ass more prominent. He would’ve thought you were awake if it wasn’t for the way your wrist went limp when he picked up your arm.

Now with the assurance you were fast asleep, he got bolder, and spread your ass so he could get a better look at you. He laid on the bed next to you to get in the just right position where he could put the tip of his cock in you.

He hummed at the feeling of him stretching you out ever so slightly. He tried his luck and pushed in slowly. He got as far as he could before stopping as you began to stir.

You stretched out your arms slightly and yawned. Raymond felt you clench around him. You were in a daze and unaware of what was going on. He pulled out and slowly, slowly thrust back in. That earned him a soft moan from you.

He shifted his body in such a way that he was now over you, watching your face as he fucked you. You were coming into consciousness as he picked up speed. You breathed in, about to say something a little too loud, and Raymond put his hand over your mouth.

“Shhhh. Go back to sleep,” He cooed.

He removed his hand and laid down behind you, lifting your leg, and spooning you as he thrust deep inside you. He held your arms close to your chest.

You moaned quietly and he placed his hand over your mouth again. You didn’t know if what was happening was real but you didn’t want it to stop. You let him fuck you in your drowsy state, not opening your eyes again.

He pulled out and came on your thighs. He looked down at the mess he made and was satisfied. He laid with you for a while, dragging his thumb back and forth on your arm.

After a few minutes, he got up and got himself put together again. He threw a washcloth on the bed and checked his time. He walked over and grabbed your arm, giving himself an hour for good measure.

He leaned over to your ear and said, “When you decide it’s time to wake up, clean yourself up and get dressed. Your father’s here.”

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylumm, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting, @queenofstresss

(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)

#kinktober ‘23 #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #raymond leon smut #raymond leon #annie writes #raymond leon x reader #raymond leon x f!reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader

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blackkatdraws · 9 months

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Warning! Direct exposure to reality may cause headache, nausea, insanity, or death

Small Lore below ~ ★

———

And here we have Narrator (Black) being directly exposed to the people in the real world (us) and almost losing his mind because of it! :3

During the Not Stanley/Real Person ending, Black had unlocked a part of himself that he shouldn't have and resulted in him almost dying because he was assaulted with the overwhelming amount of information flowing inside of his head.

Every information about the world he was in, the reality of their situation, the absurd amount of people here in the real world that watch him, and just absolutely everything that he's not supposed to know.

(There are two layers of "real worlds." The False Reality which is the one where "Players, Reviewers, and any other omnipresent being" may reside which are similar to him. The False Reality is the one Black thinks is the real world. Just like how the Narrator knows about the Player in the game but not about us personally, the real person. He doesn't know there's a second layer of reality.

Now the ACTUAL Real World is here with US. We, the real people. The real person that the Narrator encountered in the Not Stanley ending.)

Like a mortal human given forbidden knowledge by an otherworldly angel, Black's mind was still too underdeveloped to comprehend all of it.

Fortunately for him, Timekeeper noticed this development and managed to help him in time. Since Timekeeper was the only person aware of the "true reality", he was able to safely seperate Black and the "4th wall" without accidentally killing Black in the process.

Had it been any other person their heads would've exploded in just a second. Black was lucky.

———

So this is basically just how Black got the ability to freely trespass the real world and absolutely disrespect the True Fourth Wall. He knows that there are eyes on him. He's aware of all of you.

And to be honest? He doesn't even care anymore.

#yay random lore drop #YIPPEE #hope you like it #the stanley parable #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #tsp #tspud #narrator tsp #tsp narrator #mine 💗#the stan parable #tsp au lore

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staryingx · 7 months

Text

Piecing together: The current timeline in Reverse 1999

CN SPOILERS up to Chapter 5 and Interlude. Long post.

The new Chapter 5 and Interlude for Reverse 1999 has shed some light on the Storm and its timeline. With all the new info, I've tried to piece it together as accurately as possible. Here's the timeline I have put together:

Let me break down my findings.

First of all, let's look at the IDM Computer with 37's Mother's prediction.

37 mentions "From 1999 to 2007, the emanation has taken place seven times". Here's how I interpret what the years mean in the Phenomenal column. It's like calling the effect of the Storm: for the first row, the 1996 Storm reverses the era 1999 to 1996. So the "1996 Storm".

The IDM only shows 6 Storms, so the 7th is the Storm that reversed to 1929. I wonder why she didn't include the 8th Storm (1929->1913), but that could be because it was the anomaly 2-day emanation that ruined the model prediction.

Here's a table I have made attempting to fill in the blanks of the IDM computer.

Let's analyze it Storm by Storm.

The 1st Storm (1999 -> 1996)

When: 23:59. December 31, 1999

Reverses to: 1996

Many sources for this, from the IDM showing 1996 to Greta, the writer of the letters in the interlude, mentioning it in her letters.

The 2nd Storm (1996 -> 1985) [Original: 2000]

When: 1996-1997.

Logs don't explicitly say when, but from the IDM we know it takes place ~1 year after the first Storm.

Reverses to: 1985.

We know this from Greta.

"Things remained unclear until time was reversed again. This time, we all witnessed that rain in the 80s. That was 1985."

She was safe in the Headquarters, witnessing the Storm reverse.

The 3rd Storm (1987 -> 1976) [Original: 2003]

When: On a 27th evening, 1987.

Greta: "The Storm in 1987 was predicted. "…but the prediction was not accomplished by LAPLACE. The captive from Manus Vindictae names the precise date of that Storm."

In Chapter 3, we learn the Foundation captured a Manus Vindictae member who gave them the date of the next Storm. Greta also mentions a captive from Manus predicted it.

Thus, this is the Storm that took place in the breakaway incident, where Vertin was 12-years old and witnessed the Storm for the first time.

Reverses to: 1976

Greta: "Finally, I made up my mind to write to [37's mother]... ... ... She died. On the same day, the first and only timekeeper who just took office, the 12-year-old child returned alone from the Storm. She told us the time in the outside world at that point." "...The last two digits in the number of the year after that Storm were exactly her name and her number: 77".

This was a bit hard to understand. I concluded the year it reversed to was 1976, as Greta said "the year after the Storm" was 77.

Original Year: 2003

Two years has passed from the 2nd Storm (1985) as this Storm took place in 1987. This fits with the year 2003 in the IDM computer. Also, when Sophia talks to Sonetto at the geometry graveyard:

Sophia: "Four years ago, my father was restored to a geometric body on his way back to the island. So was 37's mother who was also on that ship".

We know (or can at least assume) 77 is 37's mother who perished in this Storm. The current time is 2007, so four years ago is 2003.

The 4th Storm (~1976 -> 1930s) [Original: 2004]

When: 1976~1977/78

Reverses to: Some year in the 1930s

Original year: 2004

37: "In the initial four years, the emanation [Storm] has a pattern. First it brought us back to the 90s, then the 80s, and then the 70s. After that it suddenly leapt to the 30s."

When is the initial 4 years? 1999-2003, and this fits with our current pattern thus far from 90s -> 80s -> 70s. So the 4th Storm takes us to the 30s.

Sophia: "We miscalculated the impact area of the emanation. We thought the ships would be safe in the [...] current."

This confirms the Storm has a limited area it affects, where places hit by the Storm reverses to that particular year. The timeline of R1999 isn't going backwards linearly. This opens a lot of possibilities and eras we could visit.

The 5th Storm (~1930s-> 1912s) [Original: 2006]

When: Sometime in the 1930s

Reverses to: 1912

Original: 2006

37: ".... After that it suddenly leapt to the 30s. In the subsequent 3 years, [the emanation] took place twice."

When are the three years? The Storm that took us to the 30s was 2004. So the subsequent 3 years 37 refers to are: 2005, 2006, 2007.

The IDM jumps from 2004 to 2006. You can (very vaguely) make out "1912" from the year 2006. At least I think it's 1912. So the 5th Storm takes us from the 30s to 1912.

The 6th Storm (~1912s-> 1966s) [Original: 2007]

Here's where it gets interesting, and where I start to theorize things because there isn't much info yet about this Storm.

When: Theorized: 1912~1914

Reverses to: 1966

Original year: 2007

In 2007, there is a 6th Storm. This is likely the Storm before the beginning of R1999, which takes us to 1966 where Vertin meets Regulus.

Here's why I think this Storm fits with the IDM model and happens in 1912~1914, more possibly 1914.

In Chapter 1, Vertin lists down people she has met to Regulus.

Regulus: "Huh? It's Lewis. I know him!" Vertin: "Yes. I took this photo several days ago. He was selling the Hoover Upright Vacuum Cleaners in the West End, and thought photos would help his business, so he gladly took this." Regulus: "Why did you take a photo of him? How's he..."

Vertin's response is to take a deep breath.

This interaction was very interesting. Why is Regulus so surprised Vertin took a picture of Lewis? "How's he..." How's he what? Alive?

Now I'm not very familiar with historical figures named Lewis, so I could be very (and hilariously) wrong, but after researching who could be related to a business involving Hoover Upright Vacuum Cleaners, I speculate Lewis is John Spedan Lewis. His father, John Lewis, founded John Lewis, a British brand of high-end department stores.

In 1914, John Lewis hands Spedan Lewis control of a store named Peter Jones. Where is Peter Jones located? Sloane Square, London, which is in King's Road.

Vertin: "Yes. I took this photo several days ago."

This fits with the London location and timeline we know so far. So a few days before Vertin met Regulus, she was in an area of 1914s where she met Spedan Lewis trying to get his store [Peter Jones] going.

Judging from her reaction, he got reversed by the Storm that took them to 1966. Spedan Lewis died in 1963, which is why Regulus is confused why Vertin has a picture of him taken several days ago, and why a wealthy Founder of high-end luxury stores needs a photo taken to help his business.

I thought this was a nice clue that Vertin was in ~1912s era before the 1966s, though this is all just speculation. Feel free to add your own theories who Lewis could be.

The 7th Storm (~1966s-> 1929s) [Original: 2007]

When: June 3rd, 1966.

Reverses to: February 14th, 1929.

Takes place in Chapter 0, where Vertin and Sonetto meets Regulus.

The 8th Storm (~1929s-> 1913s) [Original: 2007]

When: February 15th, 1929.

Reverses to: 1913

Takes place in Chapter 2, where Vertin meets Schneider, Druvis, and Sotheby. Manus Vindictae escalates the Great Depression to cause an earlier Storm. This era only lasts for two days.

These two Storms are straightforward since we witnessed them in game. I won't go into details about them. We're still in the year 2007 according to 37.

The Current Year in Ch 5: 1914 [2007]

Chapter 4 takes place from August 26th to October 10th 1913. The new Chapter 5 begins in 1914.

Eight storms have taken place thus far. Here's a summary with the timeline for reference:

1st Storm (1999 -> 1996)

2nd Storm (1996 -> 1985) [Original: 2000]

3rd Storm (1987 -> 1976) [Original: 2003]

4th Storm (~1976 -> 1930s) [Original: 2004]

5th Storm (~1930s -> 1912s) [Original: 2006]

6th Storm (~1912s -> 1966s) [Original: 2007]

7th Storm (~1966s -> 1929s) [Original: 2007]

8th Storm (~1929s -> 1913s) [Original: 2007]

The Current Year in Chapter 5: 1914 [2007]

Random thoughts:

I hope this post helped paint a clearer picture of the Storms and the possible timeline! Cause, whew, the reason I made this whole timeline was to make sense of it myself. So much lore was dropped in the new chapter.

A question that remains unanswered:

How do people predict the Storm? How can they tell the time in the outside world?

Moissan: "Since Timekeeper hasn't reported the time of this era to the Foundation, you two, as the Foundation investigators, shouldn't know what year this is."

We know 37's group predict them through patterns and math, but what about the Manus Vindictae and Vertin? Vertin just seems to... innately know through her pocket watch and Storm countdown timer on her bracer, perhaps related to her great sense of arcanum. I'm really curious about that.

Biggest Takeaways:

The Storm isn't going backwards linearly and it has a limited impact area. So that means some places not hit by the Storm remains untouched, while others get reversed to whatever era the Storm brings. The first Storm probably had the widest impact.

This means an era in the 1912, for example, could be "reversed" to 1966 if it was hit by the 1966 Storm. That's what I'm getting from all of this. Anyone in the Storm impact area just... poofs, and arcanists/humans in that time era spontaneously appear with the buildings and such. I really love this idea-story wise we could jump around eras.

Then we have places that are completely immune like the Headquarters, Suitcase, and 37's island. They are the only ones who can consistently keep track of time as they're unaffected like spectators viewing the outside world. For the Foundation, Vertin is their way of tracking time in eras: what era did a Storm reverse a place to.

Again, some of these are just speculations and my theories. If you noticed any information I missed out or a mistake, feel free to let me know whether through tags, reply, or even my asks if you're shy. Or if you would just like to talk theories or about Reverse 1999 I'm more than happy to :>

#reverse 1999 #r1999 #timeline analysis #reverse1999 #cn spoilers

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starrailstories · 6 months

Note

Hey! Could you write something about Blade having a keeper of time/ timekeeper s/o? ♥

first ask!!! let's hecking goooooooo

i wanted to write headcanons but then one thing led to another and it's a short story that i hope you enjoy

Blade x gn!Timekeeper!S/O — Seen in the shards

warnings: mentions of blade's depression and suicidal thoughts (canon-compliant), possibly ooc but i really really hope i wrote him well

Blade is destruction incarnate, the mara and rage and grief taking over him sporadically, like bile rising to the throat. He is an effective tool of the Hunters (ironic, isn't it? an abomination like him hardly can Hunt), and many would think that this is all he is, a bounty and a sin and a loosely held leash.

You know him differently, though. You know him in the moments of repose in-between the storm that he brings along, and in those moments, he feels like a large shard of time away from where he'd fit. It's always shards with him, glimpses of past mistakes, and battles, and memories, but mostly sorrow. You think of the ways time cracks as you struggle to keep it whole, revealing the uncomfortable truths you dare not mention to the IPC or the Intelligentsia Guild. It's kind of similar, like if you try just enough, you'll see the complete picture once again.

And he doesn't get you at first, because collecting broken shards and piecing them back is not what Blade does. Blade is all about burning bridges, throwing himself into battle headfirst, Blade does - not - get it when you show concern or worry, when you offer to share a meal, when you tend to a wound of his, when you try and protect him in battle, because he isn't supposed to be together, only apart, shatter and shatter and shatter in hopes that one day, he'll just lie there broken and dead and gone.

You care and that hurts, for some reason, hurts in a way that doesn't sate his urge to be hurt.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

"I almost pity you, Bladie. But envy you all the same," Kafka drops one day as they're sat in a boujee cafe on a planet that will experience a Stellaron catastrophe in about three system hours. She raises her cup of tea to her lips almost immediately, but he catches a hint of a smile.

"Pity, I understand, but I do not welcome it. However, what of the envy?"

Kafka set down her cup gently, in a manner that she would always do, and her smile faded.

"Soon, you would know the meaning of fear. You knew it once, but in a different lifetime. Now, you will know it again, and it will hurt in different ways. It's fascinating."

She spoke with a certainty, as if reciting a script. Possibly that was the case, and that was more sad than anything. Given a power to make anyone listen, but stuck saying words someone else wrote.

"So it will happen?"

"As much as anything said by Destiny's Slave will. There's a seed for fear in that, too. You will resent your wish and your fate, but it still will happen, even if you don't want it to happen anymore."

Right. Blade looks away, because he doesn't usually decipher the grand scheme of things. He was promised a death and a settling of the score, and he is content with that, content in the way a sword is content to rest in its sheath. Kafka reaches across the table to touch his forehead as if to impart a wisdom.

She'd point a gun to his head and he'd be just as apathetic.

"Listen. I am telling you this for your sake, after all."

There's no command behind the word, and Blade regrets this, because thinking he dislikes most of all.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fear is a foreign concept, but the more you reach out to him with your care, the more he starts to grasp it. He knows of your strength, he knows of your capabilities, he sees you constantly fixing time itself, reaching into the molten metal with hands exposed and heart bare, to stitch all together before the past pours into the present and the future into the past and a sea of fake stars replaces the cosmos you traverse (you told him once of a world inside an egg one time, where the sky is fake and the up is down and why does he remember these trivial things again).

But he also knows of his own strength, and how all that he touches goes awry, and that is scary — to see you reach out when he knows full well how your care might destroy you, how he might destroy you.

"You shouldn't be picking up the shards. They'd cut you," he says one time after another crack is restored and the anomaly of the Fragmentum shifts into a stable state. His sword drags on the ground, leaving a distinctly red trace. You know he isn't speaking about the timeline.

"Those are big words coming from someone carrying a sword made of shards," you smile like you always do and it hurts. Because it hurts to be cared for and treated like a person and where were you those centuries ago when dying still felt memorable and there was something besides the anger?

He wishes he fell into a timeline anomaly back then because that would mean even for a moment, being caught by you, and that is a scary thought.

"Blade?" he's zoning out. Bad. He is supposed to keep himself in check, because most people are capable of dying and he is a remarkably well-working death machine.

"I will say this more clearly: if you keep reaching out to me, you will die."

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You don't stop because... actually why. Blade still doesn't get it. Blade doesn't speak up anymore, a sword in its sheath, but he thinks sometimes. Thinking is still a horrible pastime activity. But he does wonder about what it would have felt like to have met you earlier, when there was some feeling left in him.

He wonders if you bandaging a wound of his would make him feel safe. He wonders if the snacks you buy on the planets you visit would make him feel sated. He wonders if after a long day, sleeping next to each other would make him feel truly content.

Dangerous thoughts, yet strangely warm, like candlelight.

You plop on the bed of a dingy hotel room you two are staying at. Blade cares little about the quality of the establishment, but he does care about security, and keeping on the down low is of the essence. He stores his sword next to his side of the bed, to draw if a fight occurs.

He doesn't sleep anyway, simply lies in a dreamless haze, so nothing would catch him off-guard.

"Room's tiny. Bed's hard as a rock, too," you make small talk, untying the laces of your boots.

"Mhm," Blade hums. He thinks that there were free rooms in the hotel. With two beds in each, no less. He doesn't bring this up because it's safer to stay close together and that's the only reason.

"And it's cold."

"Mhm," he hums again. He doesn't feel much in terms of warmth or coldness.

You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he checks for emergency exit pathways and makes notes of useful items.

"Sometimes I wish there were no anomalies or Stellarons out there. Then we wouldn't have large bounties on our heads and we'd be able to afford all the good hotels."

"We wouldn't have met then. And this room is sufficient."

Blade says sufficient, but for the last while, he found sufficient lacking. He wanted good things, despite being undeserving, and it hurt, too, because he knew all too well what happened to the good things in his life.

He lies down next to you, six inches, seven hundred years and a universe apart.

"Would we? I'd still have found you, I feel like."

It feels weird to hear this. He remembers how you once got hurt because you tried to block a hit meant for him. It was a long time ago, before that could hurt. It wasn't anything serious, but now, guilt eats at him each time he notices the faint scar on your shoulder. He drifts his gaze left, and there it is, a reminder.

And he also sees that you're cold.

What comes next is a whim and Blade never acts on whims. But he turns on the bed and drags you into an embrace.

"You wouldn't have liked what you've found."

Because then he'd be a mara-struck abomination, immortal mess of ginkgo leaves and dripping bile and the same names roared so much that no one would hear what he says. He still is like that, just somewhat grounded.

"You always decide for me. But isn't it up to me to weigh my choices, Blade?"

No, he wants to say, it's not. He's been mortal and stupid before, and that was his mistake. For that, he must pay a price. He doesn't want you to be hurt that way because you, unlike him, don't deserve this.

But he says none of it, as you raise your hand and touch his cheek and it's warm and it hurts—

His voice breaks, in both anger and fear, "I don't want you fixing me. I know you want to pick up the shards and glue them together. But you will regret that wish."

He isn't Yingxing and he won't be Yingxing ever again. What was him died on the Xianzhou Luofu, and it died again and again and again until what was left couldn't recall the deaths any longer. Then, a mess of shards, an empty husk, he was Blade, and he couldn't ever go back.

You smile gently at him.

"I know. If you ever decide to piece the shards together, it should be your choice and not mine, and I have no deal interfering with that. But still, I want to see all of you, Blade. Broken or not."

It's scary because admitting that he wants you to see him too would mean accepting that it won't change a thing. The script is merciless and uncaring. Even if he allows himself to love you, he is already destined to die as part of the performance. It's scary because it changes everything. It's scary because it changes nothing.

He shifts on the bed, so that you're face to face.

"May I kiss you?"

You close the distance first, as you always do, and he, for the first time in seven hundred years, feels seen.

#blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #blade hsr #blade honkai #hsr #yingxing

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friendsoup · 5 months

Note

HEYYY I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE MEDI IM SOBBING AAAA- could you write something with medi getting hurt in some way, and reader patches them up? :>

Boo-Boos

Recipe: Not strictly romantic, Medi is implied to have romantic feelings for reader, Reader's feelings are up to you, Medi x Reader, GN! Reader, APPle and Regulus ship it, Clumsy! Reader, Oblivious! Reader, Medi is a tsundere. Sorry.

WC: 1,351

Chef's Note: SOOOO.... I may have read this prompt wrong the first time.... So you get the best of both worlds! Medi patches up reader, and then reader patches up Medi! I hope you enjoy!

You always manage to get in the worst situations. Perhaps it was because you’re naturally clumsy. Or maybe it was just due to dumb luck. Whatever the case, tragedy always seemed to befall you. Whether it be knocks to the head, tripping over nothing, or scars you had no clue the origins of. Today was no different. You were on patrol, fighting critters for the timekeeper, when your legs got twisted with each other, and you fell. You were lucky that your teammates covered your slack, though you’d managed to get quite the hefty scrape on your chin. Not that it bothered you, though. You’d suffered greater scrapes and bumps in your time, and were convinced you’d be fine on your own. Regulus was the one to change your mind on that. “You’ll be no use to us if your wounds are all infected!” She argued, as the two of you walked back to the suitcase. “You should go see Medicine Pocket! They’re a doctor!” “I’m sure just a few bandaids will cover me.” You said, rubbing the back of your neck. “Does it really look that bad?” “You’re bleeding!” Regulus exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “If you get sick, then your chores will fall onto my shoulders!” You laughed at that. Though she was right. Getting sick was a good way to throw off the entire balance of the team, and you didn’t want to be a burden to the timekeeper.a

“Besides, if you go see Medi, you might get some special treatment.” She elbowed you in the side, the action only shooting more pain up your ribs. “What do you mean by that?” You asked, your eyebrows drawing up in genuine confusion.

Regulus just stood there for a moment, stunned that you didn’t understand her words.

“What the Captain is meaning to say, is that Dr.Medicine Pocket is awfully fond of you.” APPle pipes up, floating behind the two of you. “Perhaps, if you are to visit their room, they can provide you with a better experience than our other healers can.”

“Medi is fond of me?” You ask, blinking. “No way! They’re always so mean…” That simply earns a groan out of Regulus, who shakes her head. “God, you’re just like Vertin! I can’t stand it sometimes!” “You should visit Dr.Medicine Pocket anyways, and confirm for yourself.” APPle encourages. You nod. If even the reasonable APPle agrees, then perhaps there’s some merit in what Regulus is saying.

And so, you make your way through the suitcase, down to Medicine Pocket’s laboratory. It’s quite easy to find, following the sounds of dog’s barking and the sterile smell of medical equipment. It’s a path you’ve walked before, many times. “Medi, are you here?” You call from the doorway. Instinctively, you rub at your chin, cringing when you glance back at your hand. That’s a lot of blood. “Yeah, yeah, I’m in the middle of something. Can you come back-” They dismissively wave to you, before looking up from their work. “Holy fuck!” “Haha! Hi!” You smile and wave. “[Y/N]. What the fuck did you do?” They hiss, standing from their seat and making their way over to you. They grab you by the shoulders, pulling you into their room, before pushing you down on the examining table. “I tripped!” You explain. “Down a fucking cliff? You look like shit!” Medi shakes their head, digging through their supplies. They return with a handful of cotton balls, alcohol wipes, and bandages. “Just on some pavement. I did slide a bit though, which is probably why I look so rough.” You admit, glancing somewhere else. Anywhere but Medi’s disappointed look.

“Fucking dumbass.” They sigh, pulling on new gloves, before picking up a cotton ball with tweezers. “You’ve got to be careful.” They bend to your height. Muttering a quiet,”Lift your chin now.” Their breath hot on your cheek. You obey, feeling a bit flustered with how close they are to you. Gently, they dab the cotton on your wound, soaking in the blood and wiping it away. It feels weird against your skin, both soft and cold. The intensity of Medi’s gaze makes your heart speed up, which you pray they can’t notice.

“I try!” You protest, squirming slightly in your seat. “It’s just difficult. Y’know? These things happen without me trying!” Medi grumbles something inaudible before responding. “It doesn’t seem like you’re trying, when you come into my office nearly every day with a new injury. I have important work to do, y’know? I can’t spend all my time with you.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, feeling a great sense of guilt fill you. Medi grumbles something else, before wiping down your wound and sticking a bandage on it. With that done, they get up and begin working on something else, completely leaving you alone.

…

A month has passed, and the two of you haven’t spoken a great deal since your accident. You’ve been managing to handle yourself, and Medi has been too busy with work to come out of their shell. However, the two of you are now on patrol, preparing the last things for the Storm.

Medi walks ahead while you trail behind, your mind wandering in the other direction. Neither of you say a word, you haven’t since you left the suitcase. You don’t particularly mind though, the silent walk is nice. Medi stops suddenly in their tracks, their eyes focusing on something else. You, who’s attention is far away from what’s in front of you, don’t notice, continuing to walk forward. You bump into Medi, and they trip while trying to steady themselves, falling on their knees. “Ow! Shit!” They hiss, scrambling to a sit. You jump back, trying to comprehend what just happened. “Ah! Medi!” You exclaim, dropping to a kneel besides them. “Fuck, I’m sorry! Are you okay?” “I’m fine, asshole.” They cradle their knee, wiping a bit of blood from their scrape. “I have bandages in my lab. I’ll fix it myself-” “I can help!” You argue, digging through your pockets. Out come a crumpled bandaid, and a package containing an alcohol wipe. “Here- I have these! Let me help!” Medi blinks. “Since when did you start caring about first aid?” They ask tilting their head. “Well, last time I showed up at your office, you seemed a bit mad! So I learned how to clean and bandage my own scrapes, so I wouldn’t bother you again!” You respond, giving a smile. “Now, roll up your pant leg, I’ll clean the wound.” Medi obeys, though they seem lost in thought. “Oh.” Their voice is a bit forlorn, as they glance away from you. You fiddle with the packaging of the alcohol wipe, completely oblivious to their expression. “You know I don’t mind you stopping by every once in a while.” “What was that?” You ask, pressing the wipe to the scrape. Medi nearly jumps out of their skin. “That’s not how you’re supposed to do it! God damn it, that stings! And here I am, trying to have a moment with you! Fuck!” “Uh. Sorry.” You mutter, removing the wipe from their skin. “I’ll just put the bandage on now.” Guilt fills your chest. You didn’t mean to make them worse.

“No, I…” Medi sighs. “Thank you for your help. You saved me some supplies.” They rub the back of their neck, struggling to focus their eyes on you.

The smile returns to your lips. “Oh! I forgot to do one last thing!” You exclaim, after smoothing the bandage out on their skin. You press a quick kiss to the top of the bandaid. “All better!” Medi jumps again, this time to their feet. Their face is tomato red, their eyes frantically looking back and forth. “I-I think we should call it here!” They exclaim, letting out a nervous laugh. “I’ve got lots to work on, y’know? And Vertin is only going to sponsor me so long without any progress!” They turn around, and begin to run off, leaving you sitting there. Confused. What did you do this time?

#x reader #reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #Medicine Pocket #Medicine Pocket x reader #Medicine Pocket x you #Medicine Pocket reverse 1999 #fanfic #reader insert #Let's Make Friend Soup!#Order Up!

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