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coconutdays · 7 months

Text

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto fluff #jjk suguru #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto smut #suguru smut #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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kquil · 1 year

Text

JAMES POTTER | 10:44 ⏤KISS CAM

SUM. : you end up on the kiss cam but not with james...

G. : modern au ; muggle au ; hockey player james au ; secretly dating au

LENGTH : 0.7k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

You’ve been in a secret relationship with the James Potter for quite a while now, well renowned ice hockey player. It was a chance meeting actually, a chance meeting that left quite a lasting impression on the both you, several chance meetings happened after that and you eventually found yourself falling in love and happily engaging in a private relationship.

It was a whirlwind, shockingly fast but blissfully pleasant all at once, your feet in the air and flying through the skies, endlessly on cloud nine. Now, it's already been half a year and you haven't missed a single one of his games. It's still taking you a little time to get used to understanding how the game works and its rules but James was quick to assure you that that wasn't important.

"My favourite part of the game is being able to meet you when its over for a kiss well-done," you still remember his cheeky, boyish grin and the fluttering ache in your heart. All he has to do is flash you that charming smile and you were jelly.

He's such a loverboy, so tender and sweet, a true gentleman but also goofy and ridiculously charming in his own audacious way. His liberal manner of loving meant that you didn't go a day without hearing an 'I love you' or being pulled into a sudden hug or getting a playful kiss on the cheek. In return, you tried to calm his affections but always succumbed to him in the end - like voluntarily free-falling from a skyscraper and always knowing you would land on a thick cushion of fluffy clouds and secure parachutes.

You've never been so content in your life; naturally your eyes never left James and him you. He loves your timid affections, subtle but sweeter than honey, first unnoticeable but with a slight squint he could almost turn blind from how radiantly you emit your love for him. He's never letting you go. If there is so much as an hint of you leaving him, he's giving his all into making sure you stay, he'll shout and scream and cry and fight, no matter what it takes.

He's impulsive and hot headed, cheeks burning an almost darling pink when irritation furrows his brows and sets flames ablaze behind his eyes. James's eyes right now, however, weren't just a sea of flames but a volcanic eruption. His usual glasses weren't in the way of his eyes, only the small strands of his sweat-drentched hair provided you with some shield to his wrath. You were shocked, in your six months being together, you've never seen him so infuriated but it was then that realised you situation - you were sharing the big screen with a random guy for the 'Kiss Cam'.

The teams were on a break so of course James had seen it and was now blowing smoke fumes out of his ears and nostrils, glaring through the glass and at the guy who was attempting to lean in for a kiss as he skates his way furiously towards you. If the glass wasn't in the way, you feared that James would have beat the man to death beside you. You mentally berate yourself for having realised the situation too late and scramble say that you didn't want to partake in any kiss. You were just about to open your mouth and stop the stranger when the love of your life angrily slams his headgear into the reinforced glass before you in warning.

"Stay the fuck away from my girl dickhead!" James shouted in anger, his thundering voice keeping the glass shaking as the stranger beside you immediately backed away. Lost in the moment and finding his unusual overprotectiveness overly cute, you step up, kiss your hand and press it into the glass in front of his lips in a pseudo kiss.

"Thanks James," you smile, staring lovingly into his eyes that have visible softened at the sight of your gorgeous face.

"Kiss me twice later," you do nothing but nod and he's heading back to group with his teammates once more. You suppose your relationship isn't so private anymore.

A/N : thoughts, darlings? i know james is typically associated with rugby but i can see him as an ice hockey player too - please someone tell me that they think the same TT_TT

PART 2 | NAVI

#james potter x reader #james potter #marauders #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter fic #marauders fic #the marauders #𐂂 : TIMESTAMP

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ma1dita · 4 months

Text

feed the fire

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. The fight never ends, but food service does, and well, you’re pretty when you’re mad. Lucky for you, your dad doesn’t really need offerings. Lucky for Luke, you’re in a sharing mood. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: Chiron isn’t gonna bet his kids against each other he on the side of love wym -.- (unbeta'd and purely made by caffeine)

(posted 1/22/24)

—

“If that was your definition of fun Castellan, you are most possibly the worst person alive,” you grumble, bumping past Luke in the dinner line. The weight of his plate is as heavy as his stare, eyes following you as you turn to look at him and he knows you’re pissed after his team won capture the flag.

Again.

After years at Camp Half-Blood and years of arguing with you, everything gets a bit repetitive. But he can’t help but bite back a grin at this routine you two have created—it’s never boring when you’re around. You get as close as you can to his large frame, nose turned up for another face-off and he shouldn’t find your anger…so attractive. He shouldn’t be so interested in someone who looks like they’re about to wring his neck. However, Luke eats up the attention from you like he’s starving and wanting seconds, so he eggs you on just to see how this turns out.

“But a damn good demigod right? You’re just a sore loser, trouble. Gonna have to do better than that to impress me,” Luke jabs at you, holding his tray in one hand. His grin gets impossibly bigger once his half-siblings rumble with laughter behind him, and the frown on your face deepens.

Where you two are involved, there’s always a spectacle. Rumors of campers placing bets and keeping score to the point of updating Mr. D with the count of who comes up on top each time you two argue. He’s past the point of assigning you two extra chores and taking away leisure time since you’re much older now (and essentially run the camp for him), so the god has resigned himself to placing bets with the kids (without Chiron knowing). But every week after capture the flag, Luke unknowingly bumps up several points just by existing. It’s damaging Mr. D’s stakes so much that he might have to bet against you, his own child, next time. Plus, there’s something about Luke that always riles you up.

“Who said I was impressing you?” You scoff, blocking him from walking to his table and he looks down at you (both figuratively and literally) with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, with the way you won’t let it go, some people might think you’re obsessed with me, sweetheart. Can’t blame you, though.” Luke’s words slip through his lips like water, and this time he’s unable to place what the expression on your face means as you stare back at him blankly with your fists clenched.

The only thing he’s able to perceive as a warning is the twitch of your eye before you’re on him, climbing him like a tree as you slam into him, knocking him to the ground and screaming, “YOU’RE SO FULL OF IT, CASTELLAN!”

Luke braces for impact as your hands are flying at him though there’s no intent to cause injury—he’s felt your right hook before and it took the air out of his lungs. This, was just you being petty, hands slapping him across the head and chest before you pulled him in by the front of his shirt, and then…it was over before it even started.

“DAUGHTER! What do you think you’re doing?” Mr. D’s voice rings across the dining pavilion and your eyes meet Luke’s as you both remember where you are.

On his lap, with everyone watching.

Air escapes him again as he feels the weight of your hips against his hands and he doesn’t quite remember when he moved them there, or when in all of these arguments he’s stopped fighting back.

But was it ever really a fight, Luke wonders looking up at you, not even hearing anything coming out of Mr. D’s mouth right now. Your hair is framing your face and the harsh overhead lighting in the dining pavilion surrounds you like a halo. You look like you’ve been blessed by Aphrodite herself, ethereal and strong… and a new funny feeling in his chest makes him suddenly unsure of everything you two have ever done together. This isn’t part of the routine.

Shit.

He’s in trouble.

The fist in his shirt loosens and he falls hard, head bumping against the hardwood floor. Luke can see his tray facedown on the ground, the grapes and his dinner roll bouncing away underneath the tables.

“He did it,” you blurt out like a kid caught with their hands in the cookie jar. You can feel Luke’s chest rumble with laughter under your fingertips and you push up off of him, extending a hand to help him up. Your dad is gesturing at you to clean the mess, but by the time you finish your angry gestures and eye rolls to turn towards the utility closet, Luke’s already back and sweeping up the fallen food without any complaints.

“You know, for the strongest swordsman in 300 years, I took you down pretty easy, huh, Luke?” You say cheesily, bumping his shoulder as he chuckles.

“You just caught me off guard—throwing yourself at me like a deranged satyr.”

“Oh because you’re a dainty nymph in distress,” you bite back, walking away to get dinner.

By the time he’s done cleaning up the mess, food service is over. He scratches the back of his neck and goes to sit next to Chris, who’s wolfed down most of his meal already, but to his surprise, you’re sitting in his usual seat with a plate piled high enough for two and some extra prayers.

“You here to rub it in? Gonna have to eat air for dinner because of you.” He falls onto the bench, leaning on his hand as he gazes at you with a slow smile, and then watches you brandish two forks in the air.

“I’ll gouge your eye with a fork if you don’t start eating.”

Your knees are touching under the table and his hand slightly shakes as he pulls the utensil from your fingers.

“Sometimes I think I like it better when you’re mean to me,” he jokes but takes a hefty bite of pasta anyway.

“You love it.”

He can’t help but agree.

—

Clarisse walks over to Mr. D who’s watching you two from across the dining pavilion with an emotion akin to confusion and possibly disgust. You’re both laughing at something indiscernible to everyone else around you, together, not at each other…and it’s unsettling. The daughter of Ares stands in front of the Olympian with her palm extended.

“Pay up. Luke clearly won again.”

Mr. D’s eye twitches as he holds onto his drachmas. He was supposed to be entertained by this, not be the entertainment.

“Did he though? They both look like they’ve tamed down. This is starting to get boring.”

A hand comes out of nowhere, snatching the drachmas out of the god’s hand, and Clarisse’s eyes widen at Chiron, who’s been behind them all along.

“I’ll take that. Don’t think either of them are gonna win this in the end.”

The three of them watch Luke say something to you with a mischievous grin and you gape at him as you shove a bread roll into his mouth angrily.

Mr. D tuts and it catches your attention, your middle finger directed at him as you push the rest of your plate towards Luke.

“What, no offerings for your dear father?” He calls out disgruntled by your audacity.

“You clearly eat enough, D!”

Luke elbows you as he laughs behind his bread roll, and Chiron smiles, knowing what’s forming between you two, even if you both don’t see it quite yet.

—

“There’s something between us; a sort of pull. Something you always do to me, and I to you.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

ask to be added to the general/luke taglist! 🥹

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #pjo show imagine #luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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bloodweep · 5 months

Note

With this newfound love for JD and the others of course I need more headcanons of them knotting the reader if they were able to get it all in there i absolutely devour the knotting content

You naughty naughty gosh got me blushing so so hard writing this especially JD and Clays

Slamming my face into the ground so hard right now

NSFW SOME MAY NOT BE INTO THESE HEADCANONS BE ADVISED

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ first time knotting ࿐ྂ

John Dory:

Cock description: 12 inches flat out, thickest part 5.67 inches, thinnest 5.04 inches, knot at the base that can expand to 7.34 inches (the most someone can take is about 8 inches across so it’s nearly there and painful so he doesn’t do it often - if he does it has to be with a lot of lube and spit)

‗ ❍ He is not able to knot in the cunt, he is too big and long unfortunately, the only way he could would be anal, but that too would take a bit of time to accomplish

‗ ❍ but this doesn’t stop him from pinning you down, hands pressing against your abdomen as he slowly pressing into your cunt, soft gentle grunts leaving his throat as his cock stretches you open

‗ ❍ pants and shivers above you when he can no longer push anymore in, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly as he moves one hand up to grip your chin

‗ ❍ “don’t move, don’t move, fucking hell baby, don’t move” is what he would say as he pants, shifting slightly enjoying your moans as his cock shifts in your cunt

‗ ❍ he would stay so still - the best he could at least - waiting for you to adjust, his hand sliding down from your abdomen to brush his palm against your clit

‗ ❍ “so tight god dammit you’re so tight,” he would grunt out, his grip on your chin tightening briefly before sliding down to grip your thigh and push your left thigh up and out of the way, to spread open your cunt a bit more

‗ ❍ he probably could only fit about half of him in you for a while, fucking into you shallowly not caring if his knot couldn’t be in you

‗ ❍ however at some point, the conversation of anal would come up, gently prodding the topic to see how you would feel, he wants to feel his knot be squeezed around you

‗ ❍ he didn’t bring it up again after that, wanting you to bring it up yourself personally so you never felt rushed

‗ ❍ gods would be so ecstatic when you bring it up

‗ ❍ eats you out for a while during that night, his tongue dragging across your folds, clit and hole lazily

‗ ❍ claws digging into your hips and thighs

‗ ❍ would ask if you would be okay if he rimmed you

‗ ❍ given the okay he would slide down, dragging his tongue across the hole

‗ ❍ gosh he would finger you open so soft and lazily, ensuring you’re stretched enough for him

‗ ❍ USES SO MUCH LUBE, more lube the better, even if you tell him that using that much was a waste

‗ ❍ he fucks you so so slow, it’s teasing/ torture how he’s doing it, takes so much time to get his whole cock in you

‗ ❍ when he does he completely freezes, eyes completely glazed over and blown wide, teeth bared in a snarl as he held himself still, his arms caging around your head, shaking as he stared down at you, but it looked more like through you

‗ ❍ gosh he would be so good for you, waiting for you to be okay with it, he would wait hours if you told him to

‗ ❍ gods he fucking pants too, trying to get air in properly his body twitching every once in a while

‗ ❍ given the okay he would simply grind into you, groaning, which would turn into a needy whine, he didn’t want to pull his cock out, this being the first time you’ve taken him in fully and he didn’t want to lose the feeling

‗ ❍ he would lean down and nuzzle into your hair and whimper, “don’t make me pull out,” he would whisper softly, nearly in tears

‗ ❍ but he would have to, so you could feel good, he would lazily pull out, maybe a few inches before thrusting back in, his deflated knots pulsing as if renters you

‗ ❍ would once in a while reapply lube to the little bit of his cock he pulled out, fearing it would end up hurting

‗ ❍ ugh definitely reaches down and hooks a thumb in your hole, pulling it open a bit more and directly pouring lube in

‗ ❍ clearly likes it messy

‗ ❍ honestly he would probably cum pretty quickly, not used to his knot actually being engulfed

‗ ❍ the standard 8oz bottle of lube would be used that night

‗ ❍ gods when he does knot you, he fuckign convulses little sobs leaving him as his knot expands in you

‗ ❍ collapses on you, arms wrapped around you so tightly as he whimpered with you, his claws gripping onto whatever skin was there

‗ ❍ he would lick and kiss your tears away while saying “you’re doing so fucking while, fuck baby, just a little more don’t move”

‗ ❍ “gonna fuck you full, gonna make you full of my cum”

‗ ❍ “gonna make you pregnant”

‗ ❍ he definitely makes your stomach distorted as his cum fills you up

‗ ❍ massages your back, thighs and stomach as he waits for his knot to deflates, whispering gently how he hopes he didn’t hurt you too much

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Bruce:

Cock description: 9 inches, curves left, 5.45 all around, hes rather girthy compared to everyone else, his knot expands to 6.75 inches around

‗ ❍ can definitely knot your cunt, will be overwhelming though

‗ ❍ have you sitting on top of him while it happens so you have full control over what is happening

‗ ❍ hands gripping your hips and helping you grind

‗ ❍ lazy smile on his face while he feels his knot fill and stretch your cunt up more

‗ ❍ definitely just lets his head full backwards as he purrs

‗ ❍ praises you how well you took his knot and how proud of you he is

‗ ❍ he’s so fucking soft during it, goes so slow so he cannot hurt you

‗ ❍ rubs his thumbs against your hipbones so so softly

‗ ❍ “you’re so beautiful, like this, made for me” he would purr out

‗ ❍ definitely tries to get you to blush as much as he could with his knot deep in you

‗ ❍ once he feels like you can handle it, he would roll you guys over, pinning you to the bed and grinding his cock into you, the knot making it difficult to move but he could

‗ ❍ definitely tries to cum into you as many times as you let him

‗ ❍ once you whine at him that it’s too much, he would stop, brush your hair back and press soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Clay:

Cock description: 10 inches, curves up and about 4.33 inches around at the thickest part, the thinnest is 4.02, has a large knot at the end

‗ ❍ cannot knot your cunt, has to be anal, but he doesn’t know how to really bring it up, it causes him to get anxious and uncomfortable since he doesn’t want you to get upset or uncomfortable

‗ ❍ you would definitely have to initiate it first

‗ ❍ he always lets you ride, his hands grasping your thighs so gently as you rub your cunt on his cock, the lips wrapping around the middle of his cock as you rolled your hips, sometimes sliding up fully to let his tip catch your hole before sliding back down

‗ ❍ you always gotten interested in his knot, always staring at it, and gently touching it when it inflates, pressed against your cunt threatening to push in - if only it could fit in

‗ ❍ you would grin down at him, lifting up on your knees and grabbing his cock, purring at his flinch

‗ ❍ “so perfect want it so bad” you would whisper down at him make him gulp

‗ ❍ “gonna have it,” you would moan, your other hand coming to rest against his mouth, letting his fangs hook over your hand, his eyes looking so blown out and needy

‗ ❍ “be a good boy and sit still okay? Don’t you dare me,” you commanded him, he would nod , so slightly his ears moving to fully face you

‗ ❍ you would grin, grabbing the lube bottle you’ve been saving

‗ ❍ you would finger yourself on him, your face pressed into his chest, his cock neglected as you used your hand to fuck your hole open, the hand on his mouth pressing harder, ignoring the cuts his fangs left

‗ ❍ “oh fuck Clay, right there please,” you would plead, despite his hands resting, waiting to be told he could touch you

‗ ❍ definitely would be eager to get his cock in your ass, grasping him so quickly he would flinch and let out a soft pathetic groan before brushing his tip against your gaping hole

‗ ❍ you would go slow, easing it in as you shivered

‗ ❍ his claws would grip into your thighs, trembling as he tried to sit so still

‗ ❍ ugh once you were fully sat down he would flinch again his eyes trained on the bulge in your stomach

‗ ❍ drools, his breeding kink getting a bit too out in the opening

‗ ❍ your hand open press against his neck too, making his keen into your hand, his eyes rolling back a bit

‗ ❍ gosh his hips would snap up ignoring your grumpy noise and scolding from him moving

‗ ❍ gets a bit rough, his hands moving to your thighs to your ass, gripping each cheek and fucking up into you

‗ ❍ purrs when you fall onto his chest whimpering

‗ ❍ gosh when he knots you he definitely cums a lot; so much cum leaks out from the seal and gets all over his own thighs

‗ ❍ shakes when he cums

‗ ❍ cries too, holding you so tight to him needing you close

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Floyd:

Cock description: 8 and 1/3 inches (yes 1/3) thickest part 4.45, thinnest 3.45 inches, doesn’t have a knot that’s impressive (sorry he was stunted) the knot barely expands to 4.01 inches, but it’s definitely nice to feel it sliding in and out!

‗ ❍ prefers anal over anything

‗ ❍ haves you pinned on your stomach hips up

‗ ❍ clings to your back as he ruts into you

‗ ❍ tears streaming down his face as he gets overstimulated so easily

‗ ❍ extremely touch starved

‗ ❍ bites down on your shoulder as he thrusts in and out

‗ ❍ it’s messy, so messy, the whole lube bottle used

‗ ❍ his tail wagging so so hard

‗ ❍ “please please” is all he would say

‗ ❍ “let me knot you, gosh please I can take care of you so well,” he would groan into your skin, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist , hands pressing into your flesh

‗ ❍ “mine, right? Gods please say you are mine” he would beg

‗ ❍ begs to hear you praise him

‗ ❍ wants to know what you want him to do to you

‗ ❍ kisses down your spine constantly, dragging his tongue along it as well

‗ ❍ sobs when he cums and knots, collapsing on you and forcing you to

‗ ❍ grinds into you as he continues to cum

‗ ❍ sobs into your back “thank you thank you”

‗ ❍ extremely clingy to the point you cannot move or he would cling tighter and shake his head

‗ ❍ stays inside far beyond his knot deflates

‗ ❍ purrs softly into your ear to make sure you’re okay

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Branch:

Cock description: cock is 9 1/2 inches, thickest part 3.57, thinnest 3.34, knot expands to 4.89

‗ ❍ knots your cunt constantly, his cock pressing deep into you

‗ ❍ nuzzles into the front of throat, closing his mouth around it - being mindful of his fangs though

‗ ❍ he loves watching your stomach bulge and expand from his cock, knot and cum

‗ ❍ his hand would press into the bulge, purring as he felt his own cock thrust in and out against his palm

‗ ❍ nips up to your ear and bite on it as he fucks into you harder

‗ ❍ probably knots your cunt four times in one night

‗ ❍ enjoys anal too, definitely a spur of the moment type of thing

‗ ❍ “can I knot your ass too?” He would ask dreamily into your chest, not wanting to get rid of the delirium he was feeling

‗ ❍ if given permission he would kiss down your body, kiss your clit before licking up his and yours cum

‗ ❍ humps the bed while he does this

‗ ❍ makes sure you’re all cleaned before moving down to your asshole and dragging his tongue along the hole

‗ ❍ his left thumb pressing back into your cunt while he eases his right into your ass

‗ ❍ fucking munch would eat out both holes

‗ ❍ so eager to get his cock in your ass, his hand holding your cheek apart as he drags his cock across your slightly gaping hole

‗ ❍ eases in and bares his teeth growing

‗ ❍ gosh he nearly passes out when he knots your ass

‗ ❍ tongue definitely comes out as he pants

‗ ❍ his hands all over your thighs and cunt, rubbing against your clit

‗ ❍ “cum for me, cum for me now, wanna feel you clench around me”

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Gosh I’m blushing so hard I’m screaming

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #brozone #john dory #bruce trolls #clay trolls #Floyd trolls #branch trolls #john dory x reader #bruce trolls x reader #trolls bruce x reader #clay trolls x reader #floyd trolls x reader #floyd x reader #branch trolls x reader

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paladin-heart5 · 4 months

Text

Heart to Heart

Leon Kennedy x female reader

Summary; Leon has a nightmare about losing you, and you're right there to comfort him

Word count; 827

CW; mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fluff

The chill air flowed through the window that was slightly ajar. Just enough for the curtains to sway, letting the moonlight slip through. It was a beautiful night. Cool enough for her to snuggle into his chest for warmth. While he laid with the blanket on half of his body, even though he's shirtless. It's a peaceful sight, the couple had a long, busy day. The rest is much needed.

Leon, however, was struggling with another nightmare. The past still weighs heavy on his shoulders. His brain just tortured him. The nightmare consisted of the norm, Raccoon city, Spain, all those bioweapons. This time it was about her, losing her. Frozen in place as she's being hurt, right before him. He couldn't move, all he could do was scream, shout for the killers to stop. Her eyes are glossy, full of fear and sadness. Her cries echoed, making him thrash. Red. That's all that was visible, the color of blood, the color of their eyes. It haunts him. He'd do anything to protect her, but he failed.

Leon jumped awake with an audible gasp, followed by heavy breathing. “Nonono, please.” He cried, heart beating rapidly, sweat drenched his hair. This jolt caused her to pop up in a hurry. Seeing her love in such distress made her heart cry. Concern flashed through her eyes as she carefully grabbed his hands.

“Leon, Leon, honey.” She called as she made him look at her. The blue in his eyes were darker, he must've experienced such a scare. She doesn't often see the great Leon S. Kennedy break. When he does, it's after so much bottling up. His eyes do widen at the sight of her, alive and well. The moonlight made her look heavenly.

“Y/n… you're alive.” His voice cracked, another thing she didn't often hear. She always encouraged Leon to express his feelings, good or bad. It was a hard shell to break, but he eventually started to open up. This situation will definitely have to end with him opening up more.

“Of course I'm alive baby. Did you have another nightmare?” Y/n asked softly, her voice quiet but comforting. It was true music to his ears. He could only pull her close, clinging for dear life.

“I thought I lost you. I can't- I can't live without you.” His grip tightened, almost crushing her.

“Hey hey, baby, you aren't going to lose me. I know you'll protect me from anything and everything. And I want to protect you from those horrid thoughts. It's okay, let yourself fall apart.” She calmly spoke to him as he hid his face in her neck. Her fingers gently combed through his blonde locks. His quiet sobs slowly started to die down, her warmth and gentleness was like a healing potion to him.

“I love you so much, Y/n. Please don't leave me.” He whispered, interlocking their fingers together. Y/n carefully raised his hand to her lips, placing a sweet kiss.

“I wouldn't dream of it, darling. I'll always be here, waiting and worrying when you'll come home. I'll take care of all your wounds, and I'll love you forever.” She chuckled, rocking the both of them. Leon smiled softly, taking in her scent. He'll do whatever it takes to live, to come back home to her, to keep her safe. All he can think to do is place kisses on her neck.

Y/n giggled and laid him back on the bed. She carefully straddled him and wiped away his tears. She then laid her head on top of his chest. The sound of his beating heart was much more steady. Leon relaxed a bit more as he held her close.

“Do you ever.. have nightmares about me?” Leon asked quietly, making you look at him.

“Often, when you're on missions.” She answered simply as if it didn't matter. Leon looked at her with a frown.

“With no one to comfort you?” He asked, Y/n shrugged.

“Well no, sometimes I'll call Claire and she'll comfort me. Or I'll wear your favorite hoodie, it smells just like you!” She explained, her boyfriend melted a bit at the way her eyes lit up.

“I promise to try texting or calling you more when I'm gone, okay? And tomorrow we're going to get those stuffed animals where you can put your voice in it.” Leon says, rubbing her back. Y/n tilted her head and chuckled.

“You mean a build-a-bear?” She asked, he blinked.

“That's what they're called?” He responded, you could only laugh in response.

“You're such a goof!” She snuggled into him, the tiredness returned to her with a yawn. Leon smiled at her, he rubbed her back gently.

“Get some rest, baby. Sorry for waking you.” He says quietly.

“Don't be sorry, I want to help.” She hums as she closes her eyes. Letting the sleep overtake her, Leon watched her peacefully.

"Thank you." He whispered.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #fanfic #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil

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hawkinsmethlab · 11 months

Text

Part Two

Read on AO3

The first time they kiss, Eddie is technically dead. Or, does CPR even count? Steve’s tempted to say no, because that’s not how kissing works. (He would know the best out of any of them, right?) The cracking of ribs under his hands and the taste of blood in his mouth, how desperately he’s blowing air into too-heavy lungs and listening to one of his best friends cry so hard he’s dry heaving.

But he doesn’t stop, not until there’s a pulse, however weak.

Eddie dies twice on the way to the hospital. They tell Steve later that he died again when he was on the operating table and nearly didn’t get him back.

Steve runs himself ragged over the next month, between volunteering at the community center, donating blood and making sandwiches, helping to clear the streets of debris, patrolling for Upside Down shenanigans and playing chauffeur for his gang of kids who aren’t acting so much like kids these days. He visits Max and Eddie as often as he can. Max still hasn’t woken up and nobody’s sure when that might be, but he gets to have his first conversation with Eddie about a month later.

He’s only been awake for a week, and still can’t do much of anything but talk, and even that’s hit or miss most days. Even when he can kind of hold a conversation, he gets tired too fast for it to mean much, but everyone Steve talks to is upbeat about his recovery.

He hadn’t been planning on actually sitting with him, there’s still so much to do, but Wayne had asked him to hang out while he ran to grab himself some lunch. Who is he to deny that man anything, especially something so easy as watching a half-comatose idiot?

Eddie wakes up after about a minute of Steve being there. When he notices him, Eddie’s eyes go glazed and he’s got a dopey smile.

“They’ve got you on the good stuff, huh?” Steve says.

Eddie nods, but his muscles are loose so it’s more of a roll. “Oh, yeah. I’d make a fortune off the stuff if I could get my hands on it. But, shh, don’t tell. I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay, man, whatever you say. My lips are sealed or whatever.”

“Mmm.” Eddie squints at him then, frowns until he’s pouting. “Sorry you had to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lay one on me,” he says, eyes closed now. “Bet you hated it. Bet it tasted awful.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fights back the smile his lips are trying to pull up into. “Appreciate the concern. Lucky for you, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t tasted before. And I didn’t. Hate it.”

Eddie’s eyes open so fast Steve worries they’re gonna fly out of his skull. “You what?”

“I was saving your life, dude,” Steve says. Duh. “Hard to hate something like that. I mean, maybe if it hadn’t worked then it might be a different story but--”

“Oh. Right.” Eddie relaxes back into his pillow. He’s trying to keep his eyes open, on Steve, but it’s a fight he isn’t going to win. He’s like a kid trying to stay up past his bedtime, and this time Steve can’t force down the smile in time.

“Just go to sleep,” he tells him. “Your uncle will be back soon.”

“Been sleepin’ forever, I’m sick of it. Keep havin’ weird dreams.”

“...Yeah, I’ve been there.”

Silence settles between them, broken by beeps of machinery, distant footsteps and announcements from the hallway. Eddie’s eyes are closed again, his brow still creased. Steve thinks he might have actually fallen back asleep until he sees his lips move.

Steve scoots a little closer. “Are you trying to say something?”

Eddie sniffs, make the face like he’s pouting again. “I said, I’mma make it up to you.”

“Make what up to me?”

“Bad first kiss.” Eddie shakes his head. “I can do better. Wanna do-over.”

Steve freezes like a deer in headlights. Like he has a gun to his head. Like he just heard the front door open and he knows it’s his parents coming home. He knows it’s the drugs talking and that Eddie doesn’t know what he’s saying, not really. At the end of the day he probably isn’t going to remember this conversation.

Eddie is in a hospital bed, hooked up to about a dozen different machines looking like he’s been hit by a train, his skin so pale that Steve can make out every vein, every bruise and cut and stitch. Long fingernails and peeling scabs that crawl up his neck like a fungus. He’s drooling a bit from the side of his mouth and his eyes are still crusty with sleep and he’s got a smattering of acne that’s cropped up on his forehead and nose, along the edge of his chin. His bangs are pinned back because they’re so greasy.

Steve’s heart races anyway.

There’s a correct answer here, the one he’s been raised with, the one beaten into him. The instinctual urge to brush it off as a joke (ha, good one, man) to take it as an insult (remember who you’re talking to, Munson) to ignore it altogether (just go back to sleep).

Then there’s the incorrect answer.

“Alright, Munson,” he says, softly, terrified. “Once you’re all better, you can show me what I missed out on.”

Through the exhaustion and the pain meds, Eddie grins. “Watch out, Harrington. I’m about to rock your world.”

Steve smiles. He doesn’t fight it this time. “Can’t wait.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #my writing

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meazalykov · 2 months

Text

Her victory, my defeat

Salma Paralluelo x LionessesPlayer!R

warnings: sadness with a mix of love and hope :)

My nerves were suppressed when I stood by the front of the goal post, a corner kick for my team was being taken. The minutes were counting down until the end. I am in my dream, the dream that is starting to feel like a nightmare.

I stood on the pitch, surrounded by a sea of cheering fans. It was the World Cup final—the pinnacle of my soccer career. Every ounce of sweat, every sacrifice, every early morning training session had led me to this moment. The tension in the air was palpable, as if the entire world had stopped to witness this match.

England vs. Spain. One of us was going to win.

By us… I mean my beautiful girlfriend Salma, who plays for Spain, or me, who plays for England.

That realization before the game hit deeply. The thoughts of how our relationship would continue onwards, whoever won or lost, started to put pressure onto my feelings.

The pressure got more intense when the actual match started. Right now its the 104th minute and my teammate observed the pitch, deciding where to kick her corner kick. My mind flashed to all of our practices throughout these three years before the World Cup. The Lionesses’ and I poured our hearts and souls into every pass, every tackle, every shot on goal.

As the corner kick was taken, I jumped high. I knew this was the highest I've jumped in my entire life. However, the ball barely slipped over my head. When I turned around, following the ball mid-air and noticed the ball in Cata Coll’s hands, England’s potential victory slipped through our fingers like sand.

The final whistle blew, and the deafening roar from the Spanish crowd turned into silence in my head. Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched the opposing team, aka my close friends, achieve their dreams. I am happy for them, but It felt like a punch to the gut. This is a crushing blow that knocked the wind out of me, my lungs felt closed in.

As a little girl, I dreamed of being here. I dreamed of being with the English and driving us to win the World Cup. I’ve imagined myself holding the trophy in my hands and smiling brightly, making my loved ones proud.

The realization sank in slowly, like a cruel joke unfolding before my eyes. Maybe I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. We had come so close, we fought so hard, only to fall agonizingly short. The dreams we had dared to dream, the hopes we had nurtured, all shattered in an instant.

When I saw the Spanish girls jump on top of each other into a pile, I shook my head and walked over to the benches. I knew it was football, you can’t win them all. However, this is the one I wanted to win most.

Taking my half pink half blue puffer jacket, I put it on backwards so the hoodie covered my face. Once my face was concealed, the tears poured down my dimpled cheeks.

I cried more because I wanted to be happy too. Salma Paralluelo, my lovely girlfriend who I fell in love with one year ago, just achieved her biggest dreams. I couldn’t look out of the hoodie and see her, but I hope she is in the pile of happy players and proud of her dreams coming true.

My Barcelona teammates who currently play on the Spain team just achieved their dreams too. Being happy for them would’ve been easy if I wasn't on the losing end. I hope they don’t see me here, I don’t want them to pity me.

Lucy Bronze and Keira Welsh, my teammates on the club and national teams, might feel the same way I do.

The Spanish girls were in a state of happiness and disbelief. Salma stood up after having five players jump on top of her in the pile. She wiped off her jersey and hugged Cata Coll, who saved the ball in the last corner kick.

Salma had the brightest smile, tears of joy nearly poured out of her eyes. She knew that she completed a goal that many won’t have the chance to compete for.

Amid the sea of elation, a crushing realization went through Salma’s head. She felt her heart ache when she thought about y/n, the #1 love in her life. The h/c girl is somewhere in the stadium feeling defeated, while she is feeling ecstatic over her win.

The Spanish girl tried her best to not let Y/n get into her head in the final. They’ve both agreed that during the final, they would both play as if they didn’t know the other. Which means that no feelings would get in the way of decision-making in the final.

Salma’s eyes roamed around the stadium before looking toward England's bench. She saw Ona Batlle, her teammate on the Spain squad, comforting her girlfriend Lucy who played for England. The brown skin girl then looked ahead of the couple to see a girl with her legs crossed, puffy jacket on backwards to block her face, and her hands constantly going to rub her eyes through the jacket. She knew it was Y/n.

At that moment, she felt the mix of joy and concern as she rushed over to Y/n, her own triumph momentarily forgotten.

In a quick second, she got lower in front of Y/n and wrapped her arms around her. Salma held her close, offering a silent embrace amidst the loud cheers. Y/n knew it was Salma due to her relaxing natural scent. She buried her face in Salma’s shoulder, the warmth of her touch offering peace while y/n’s mind went into chaos.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," Salma whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the roar of the crowd. "I know how much this meant to you."

Y/n clung to Salma, the weight of her sorrow heavy upon her shoulders. Y/n felt terrible, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for dampening Salma's victory with her own pain.

“You should be celebrating. Don’t let my sadness ruin your victory. I’ll get over this soon.” Salma heard Y/n’s muffled voice through her jacket hoodie. The girl in the red jersey lightly pulled Y/n’s hoodie off of her face. The English girl’s red eyes, puffy cheeks, and long damp lashes were visible to her. Salma looked into her eyes and gave a sympathetic smile.

Y/n tried to lightly pull her girlfriend’s hands off of her, knowing that she should celebrate the World Cup win instead. However, Salma resisted her pull and held her tighter, knowing that her presence would bring light to Y/n’s darkness.

As the world celebrated around them, Y/n found solace in the arms of the woman she loved. Even in defeat, Salma and Y/n’s bond remained unbreakable. Y/n will go on to celebrate Salma and her club teammates' World Cup win, understanding that making it to the final is an achievement itself

#barcelona femeni #lionesses #salma paralluelo #fc barcelona #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader

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luxaofhesperides · 1 year

Text

those who serve.

Running away from Amity Park—from his entire dimension—Danny takes refuge in the streets of Gotham. It's hard, suddenly being a homeless teenager in such a crime-ridden city, but it's better than dying a second time.

Enter Alfred Pennyworth, a kind old man who works as a butler who, for some reason, has decided to befriend Danny.

His future is still up in the air, but he's hopeful that things will work out. After all, Alfred isn't getting any younger and someone needs to help him with his butler duties. Danny's just the right person for the job.

Or: Alfred Pennyworth sees a homeless teen who looks like he'd fit right into the Wayne family and decides to take matters into his own hands. It's not like he's just going to leave this very sad, possibly meta teenager alone when there's more than enough space in the Manor to house one more child in need.

read chapter one on ao3 or below the cut.

Technically, Danny doesn’t exist.

He has no papers, no records, no family in this dimension. It’s a blank slate, a fresh start where he can be anything he wants. That doesn’t change what he is, however, and Danny is just another lonely child living on the streets.

In Gotham, he’s not a hero or a threat; he’s just another nameless face passing by, another teenager with no support system and no future. Just a figure clinging to the alley walls, head bowed and hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. It’s not great, far from it, but it’s better than the alternative where he—

—parading around in the corpse of our son! How dare you! Wearing his face won’t save you from what we’ll do to you! Leave Danny’s body so we can bury him, leave him! I’ll tear you ap—

This is better, is the point. Out of the frying pan and into the crime ridden streets of Gotham. Not quite a fire but close enough.

No one is hunting him down in this dimension, at least. He’s ignored and left to his own devices, wandering the streets only when the sun’s gone down and slipping into grocery stores after hours, invisible, to get a few things to eat. It sucks that he’s resorted to stealing to survive, but at least he’s surviving.

Survival is the entire reason he ran from his own dimension, after all.

He’s been here for two and a half weeks now, getting acquainted with the streets. Every day is spent hiding and trying to endure the crushing loneliness and grief of losing his entire life. He’s still half alive, yes, but the life he lived has gone up in flames, torn to pieces under his parents’ attacks. He can’t even blame them for it; under the circumstances, with the limited understanding they had, it’s only natural that they would try to kill him after discovering that Danny Fenton, their son, died two years ago.

Understanding doesn’t stop the sting of betrayal, doesn’t soothe the ache of being chased away from his family, but it’s something.

It’s all he has, these days.

There’s no one to hide from, no one who knows him at all, so Danny wanders, more ghost-like than he’s ever been before. People give him a wide berth at night, never making eye contact and walking by faster.

Save for one, of course. One person, at dawn, who always seems to find him no matter where Danny’s wandered that night.

He introduced himself as Alfred Pennyworth. The British accent caught Danny off guard enough that he stopped and turned to face the man, who stood a few feet away, umbrella held over his head.

“Are you quite all right, my boy?” he had asked. “I have a spare umbrella if you would like to keep from getting any more soaked.”

It took a few tries for Danny to find his voice after a week of not speaking a word. “No,” he rasped, barely audible over the rain, “I’m fine.”

He walked away without another word, thinking that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Alfred returned dawn after dawn, never staying longer than ten minutes, trying to make small talk with Danny.

Danny, for his part, had no idea why this random British man had decided to make friends with a homeless teenager, but figured that he was just a lonely old man with no family left. That, Danny could understand. So he’d stay for a bit, listening to him talk and occasionally replying, then say his goodbyes when more people began to emerge onto the street.

Two and a half weeks in, Alfred finally asks Danny for his name.

“Why?” Danny asks, shifting where he stands. He doesn’t exist here, but it doesn’t stop his instinctual need to run from anyone who goes looking into him. The GIW don’t exist here, no one is hunting him down. There’s no information about him in this dimension that can be used against him. It’s hard to remember that, not after he’s spent the last few years trying to keep ghost hunters from finding him.

“I feel it’s rather rude of me to speak to someone I have never properly greeted,” Alfred says. He always speaks so calmly, as if there’s nothing in the world that can shake his composure.

I don’t exist here, Danny reminds himself, I’m safe.

“Danny.”

“Danny,” Alfred repeats. “A fine name.”

“Thanks? It was my first birthday present.”

The stupid comment makes Alfred smile, just a little, so Danny calls it a win instead of beating himself up over having zero control over what his mouth says.

There’s more movement along the streets now, Gotham beginning to wake up with storeowners getting ready for the day and morning shift employees heading out to let the night shift go. It’s just about time for them to part ways until the next morning, and Danny’s resigning himself to another day of loneliness.

His short conversations with Alfred are really all he looks forward to. It’s nice to hear about the man’s time in England, his work as a butler, his opinions on American cuisine and the like. He never presses for a response and he doesn’t try to dig for more information about Danny. Just talks to him, then says his goodbyes.

“I’ll let you go back to your day,” Danny says, pushing off of the wall he’s been leaning against. “See you around.”

Alfred nods once. “Very well. I do hope you get some rest today, Danny. You always look very tired when we talk. I hope I haven’t been keeping you from sleeping.”

“Oh, not at all. I just have insomnia. Better to have some company than just lay around wondering why I can’t sleep, you know?”

“Indeed. I shall be off then.”

“Yeah, alright,” Danny says. “I’ll see you tomorrow once you somehow track me down again. Are you sure you don’t have magic?”

Alfred shakes his head with a small smile. “I am quite positive I do not have magic. Perhaps we simply have similar ideas about where the best places to walk are.”

“Sure,” Danny says, drawing out the word. “Whatever you say.”

Truth be told, the first few days, he was scared that Alfred was somehow tracking him down. For what, Danny didn’t know. Maybe he wanted to harvest Danny’s organs? Sell him to an evil scientist to be experimented on? Induct him into a mob?

Alfred didn’t do any of that. He just showed up, talked for a few minutes, then went on his way. He never followed Danny, never asked strange questions, never did anything besides chat about his life and his work as a butler.

It honestly was fun to listen to. It’s clear how much Alfred cares for his employers. Before meeting him, Danny had never really thought of butlers beyond being an outdated job for people too rich to do their own chores. Now it’s interesting, learning all the things a butler has to do and why Alfred chooses to do them.

He still doesn’t have a favorable opinion on billionaires. Too many bad experiences for him to view them is any unbiased light (thanks for that, Vlad, but eat the rich either way); still, it’s nice to know that this family looks out for Alfred. They give him a place to live, a family to live with, a reason to stay.

It would be nice if Danny could have those too, in any way that he could. He’s at the end of his rope, struggling to stay and not surrender himself into the Zone and be done with the living realm entirely.

Even his Obsession isn’t enough to sustain him. There’s no one to protect here; honest to god vigilantes patrol the streets of Gotham to keep it safe. Danny isn’t needed here.

There’s no place for him at all.

Already, his mood is plummeting and all he’s done is take a few steps away from Alfred. It doesn’t bode well for his future, whether that’s what’s to come in the next few hours or the next year.

Sighing, Danny ducks his head back down and begins his search for someplace to bunker down for the day. There are quite a few empty buildings around, newly constructed but not yet in use. He doubts there’s any security installed yet, so he should be safe to settle in and catch some sleep before the sun goes down.

Just as he turns the corner, he hears someone running. They’re behind him and he tenses, ready to disappear so they can’t get him.

It’s not Danny they go to. It’s Alfred.

“Hand over your wallet if you want to get out of here alive, old man!”

Shit, Danny thinks, spinning on his heel to get back to Alfred. He rounds the corner to see a mugger jabbing a gun at Alfred’s temple. He looks angry, nearly shaking, and there’s a strange shine in his eyes.

Drugs? No, not important. What’s important is that Alfred is standing still, as calm as ever, with his hands lifted in the air.

“Hey!” Danny yells, sprinting towards them, “Back the fuck up before I rip your tongue out!”

Fear and anger push him on, his Obsession whispering protect protect protect in his ear and he closes the distance between them.

The mugger barely has time to move the gun away from Alfred’s head, and no time at all to point it at Danny, before Danny tackles him, slamming him onto the ground. He rips the gun out of the mugger’s hand and tosses it carelessly to the side.

“Don’t touch him,” he hisses. Faintly, he’s aware that his features are shifting, becoming a little less human. The snarl building in his chest has his teeth sharpening, bared in warning.

The mugger trembles beneath him, thrashing weakly. “Alright, alright! Just lemme go! Let go!”

He doesn’t want to. Danny wants to hurt him for daring to go after Alfred, the one good light in the dark, the only person Danny cares about in this dimension. He wants to make this man regret his choices, make him terrified for the rest of his life, break every bone in his hand so he can’t ever pick up a gun again.

A hand drops onto his shoulder.

“That’s enough, Danny,” Alfred says. His voice is stern and Danny can’t help but listen, effortlessly pulled out of his adrenaline fueled rage. His humanity returns to him. “There we are. Come now, my boy, stand up.”

He stands. The mugger scrambles to his feet and runs away.

With the danger gone, Danny can think clearly again. He takes a few deep breaths and locks his ghost-half away as tightly as possible, keeping the cold in his chest buried deep. It was good for scaring away a mugger, but he doesn’t want Alfred to think he’s a monster.

He can handle a lot, but not that.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking over Alfred for any injuries. There’s no telling that was done to him before Danny got the mugger away from him. It may have only been a moment, but Danny knows very well how quickly a moment can change a life (or take it away).

“Quite. In fact, I am sure you are in worse shape than I am, at the moment.” Alfred gestures downwards and Danny follows his gaze to his knees, where his already worn jeans have new holes in them. His knees are skinned from how hard he slammed into the ground, a dull ache he hadn’t noticed until it was pointed out to him.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I can barely feel it.”

Alfred gives him a hard look, as though he thinks Danny is lying; he’s not, the pain is barely there. He’s had a lot worse in the past. He can handle skinned knees easily.

“Well,” Alfred says, “Thank you for coming back to help me. If there’s anything I can do to pay you back—”

“No. I don’t… I didn’t do it for payment. I don’t need anything.”

“I would like to—”

“No,” Danny interrupts again. “No payment. I just did what was right. Don’t make this a big deal, please.”

Alfred sighs. “Very well,” he concedes, looking more tired and worn than Danny’s ever seen him. “I shall not keep you any longer. Until tomorrow, Danny.”

He looks as though he expects Danny to take the out, to leave immediately. Danny shifts, not meeting his eyes as he doesn’t move.

“I’ll walk with you,” he mumbles. “So no one tries to hurt you again.”

Danny’s worried that Alfred will insist on going alone, that he’ll have to go invisible and follow along when he isn’t wanted, but Alfred is kinder than that. Alfred doesn’t refuse or insist he go on his own. No, he smiles and thanks Danny for his consideration before taking off, making sure that Danny walks besides him rather than behind him.

They don’t talk much. Alfred seems to know that Danny isn’t much for words at the moment, sticking to his side and constantly surveying their surroundings for any danger. He walks confidently through the streets as though he wasn’t just held at gunpoint, carrying on with his morning with the same stubborn spirit that keeps most Gothamites from giving up on their city.

Alfred visits a small bakery first. They’re not yet open, but the owner props open the door when they arrive, waving them in.

“Alfred!” she greets cheerfully, “And I see you have someone new with you.”

She looks expectantly at Danny, who shifts uncomfortably under the attention. He can’t get his voice to work, can’t figure out how to get the right words out.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred says, smoothly drawing her attention off of Danny. “This is Danny. We often talk in the morning and he has decided to accompany me today.”

“I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you! I’m Yurica. Alfred and I enjoy some tea together in the mornings before starting with our days. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t… mean to intrude,” Danny manages to say before Yurica waves off his hesitant refusal.

“Nonsense! Any friend of Alfred is a friend of mine. Come, come, let’s get the two of you seated. You’ll get the first picks of the day, once I get the last batches out of the ovens.”

She leads them into the bakery, past the kitchen and upstairs into a small sitting room. Danny follows them, unable to leave without seeming rude. He joins Alfred on the couch, awkwardly perched on the edge as Yurica bustles around, disappearing down the hall.

Distantly, he hears the sound of running water and a stove top being turned on. The clinking of cups follows, along with the opening and closing of cupboards. It almost sounds like home, when Jazz was setting herself up for a long study session to make sure she’s prepared for college.

Without noticing, Danny relaxes back into the couch. He keeps his eyes closed, just listening to the movement around the building; it’s soothing white noise that chases away the constant ache of loneliness he’s been carrying these past few weeks.

“Quite the relaxing home, isn’t it?” Alfred asks.

“You come here every day?”

“Not every day, but a few times a week. We’re old friends and are often up before anyone else. It’s nice to catch up for just a few minutes, especially at our age.”

He wonders if this is what it feels like, spending time with grandparents. He never met his own, could never relate to the kids who were always excited to spend time with their grandparents over the holidays, eager to be part of a bigger family. It was fine, before, when it was just him, Jazz, and their parents.

It was fine.

It didn’t last.

Yurica returns a few minutes later, carrying a tray full of cups and a teapot made to look like a fat cat. The sight of it makes him smile, almost distracting him from noticing the way Yurica and Alfred share a Look.

“Here we are,” she says, setting the tray down on the table. She lays out the cups before Danny can offer to help, pouring out fragrant tea with a steady hand. “Cream? Sugar?”

Alfred adds cream to his own cup while Danny shakes his head, quietly thanking her for the tea.

He cradles his cup in his hands, savoring the gentle warmth while Alfred and Yurica chat. He tunes them out, letting their voices fade into background noise.

This is the most relaxed he’s felt in months. It’s sad to think about, so he tries not to, but it lingers in the back of his mind.

Time passes without him noticing. Danny sips his tea until his cup is empty, then sets it down on the tray. That seems to be a cue that Alfred was waiting for, long done with his own cup, and he stands, thanking Yurica for her hospitality.

She waves it off with a smile before Danny can echo the sentiments, then ushers them downstairs, where trays of freshly baked pastries fill cover the counters of the bakery’s kitchen.

“Here, take your pick!”

Danny’s about to refuse when she shoves a paper bag into his hands. “Go on,” she says, “Take what you like. I always offer to friends and I find refusal to be rude.”

Now that she’s said that, Danny can’t keep refusing or he’ll feel awful. Alfred is already picking out a few pastries himself, so Danny trails after him, taking three pastries that look good. It’ll be enough to tide him over for the next two days, so he won’t have to steal any food.

“Thank you again, Yurica,” Alfred says, “It’s always a pleasure to chat with you.”

“Oh, you’re always such a sweet talker,” Yurica laughs. “I’ll see you again soon, Alfred. And you, Danny, are welcome here whenever. Even without Alfred. My doors are open to you.”

Yurica is kind. She sees him in all his scraggly, worn down glory, clearly homeless and with nothing to offer her, and she doesn’t turn him away. Instead she welcomes him in solely because he’s here with Alfred.

It’s enough to have him blinking back tears, ducking his head so they don’t see how much this affects him.

“Thank you,” he manages, then hurries to follow Alfred out the bakery.

Yurica waves at them from the door as they make their way down the street, then goes back in to continue preparing for the day.

Alfred walks around some more; he informs Danny that he has no errands to run at the moment and no one else to visit. Danny follows, keeping an eye out for anyone who might think Alfred is an easy target. He barely pays attention to where they go until they enter an underground parking garage.

The weak lights and stillness of the garage, along with the fact that it’s almost entirely empty, makes a fissure of unease race down his spine. This would be the perfect place for Danny to be knocked out and taken away; no witnesses, no help.

But Alfred wouldn’t do that. Danny wants to believe that Alfred wouldn’t do that.

He stops when Alfred pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. A black car in the back corner of the parking garage unlocks with a quick flash of the headlights. That is… an expensive looking car. It’s not an obvious luxury brand or anything, but it’s high quality and clearly made for people with money.

Guess being a butler pays well, Danny thinks.

Alfred opens the door, but doesn’t get into the car. Instead, he looks to Danny.

“Will you be alright, Danny? If you’d like, I have a first aid kit in the car that we can use to tend to your knees.”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks, though,” Danny says, trying to keep from tensing up too obviously.

“And you have a place to stay?”

“Sure do,” he lies.

“If you ever need help, you are welcome at Wayne Manor.”

Danny nods, intending to never go to the manor. He’s not going to risk another rich person trying to either 1) kill him or 2) make him their son. No way. Not in this dimension.

Alfred looks him over, then nods. He gets into the car, offering Danny a quick goodbye. Danny lifts a hand in return, then leaves the parking garage, holding his bag of pastries close to his chest. More people are starting to fill the streets, starting the day, and Danny still hasn’t found a place to hide until night.

He’s kept Alfred safe during his dawn walk. He’s safely delivered Alfred to his car so he can drive to wherever he needs to go.

There’s no point in him sticking around any longer.

Hood up, Danny hurries down the streets, ducking into alleys to avoid being seen by people. It takes half an hour to reach the empty buildings he was considering before, and then just a minute to go invisible and fly up to the roof. The door going inside is locked, but a little intangibility goes a long way.

Danny makes himself comfortable in one of the many empty rooms, back to the wall, and pulls out one of the pastries. It’s not as warm as before, but it’s still soft and flakey. The glaze on it sweetens the bread and it’s the best thing Danny’s had since he first arrived in this dimension.

This can’t go on, he realizes.

All this squatting and stealing. It’s just not sustainable. He’s been acting as if he’s died again, left to haunt the streets of a city he doesn’t belong in. He’s spent all his time either sleeping or wandering, wallowing in his own misery.

No more. This is a second chance.

There’s no ghost hunters. No GIW. No need to be a hero when so many already exist, willingly taking on that burden. Here, Danny doesn’t exist, which means he can be anyone he wants to be.

And in order to live this new life, he’ll need a job. He’ll worry about school once he’s able to save up some money and find a place to live.

Step one to getting his shit together: find a job that will take on a homeless teenager who doesn’t legally exist.

He’s already got one in mind; Alfred does keep offering to help in any way he can, and he’s made working as a butler sound fulfilling.

Serving isn’t quite protecting, but it’ll be close enough that he can satisfy his Obsession.

The pieces are falling into place. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes this plan.

He’ll ask Alfred about it when they next meet. Everything else can wait until then.

(“Are you sure you’re okay, Alfred?”

“Quite,” Alfred says, smoothly stepping away from Bruce’s fussing. “Danny scared the mugger away before he could do anything.”

“I’m glad he was there. Are you sure I can’t go meet him? Thank him in person?”

“You’ll only scare him away, I’m afraid.”

Bruce sighs, reaching for his cup of coffee. “What about as Batman?”

“That will only be worse, I’m sure. Not everything can be solved by putting on a mask, Master Bruce.”

Tim enters the kitchen, drops a tablet on the table in front of Bruce, then collapses into his seat with a groan. “I can’t find anything on him. Are we sure he’s real?”

“I assure you he is very real, Master Tim.”

Tim lifts his head to give Alfred a bleary, assessing stare. “I know we always rag on B about his adoption problem, but he got it from you. You’re not going to stop until you get this Danny guy into the Manor, right?”

“It’s either that or setting up a home for him in Gotham.”

“Bring him here,” Tim says with a yawn, putting his head back on the table, “Now I’m curious about him, too.”

“I shall do my best, Master Tim. I shall do my best.”)

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc fanfic #danny fenton #alfred pennyworth #my writing #fic #chapter one of three!! dont ask abt an update schedule. i dont have one and never will #i just want alfred to adopt danny. he found danny first in this one!!#i mean. bruce had to get it from somewhere #and that somewhere is alfred taking care of a child who suddenly became an orphan and had no one else #its a family trait really #butler danny au #alfred's apprentice au

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thursdaygxrls · 4 months

Note

this is a bit self indulgent to request lol but i’m very partial to any hunger games au just so my babies arent as traumatized by the end lmao😭

maybe pirate!finnick x reader where they take r captive? finnick brings her some food and makes sure the other pirates keep away from r

anon, i do not know how i feel about this one. i absolutely loved this request, but i may have screwed up the pic. apologies 🙏 i tried using second person for the first time also. the beginning may be confusing, please bear with me

a simple mistake

pairing pirate!finnick odair x maid!reader

summary when the pirates of the mockingjay planned to kidnap the princess, they thought everything would go smoothly. however, there's one big problem: they kidnapped the wrong girl.

warnings unedited shitty writing, kidnapping, guns, gale, modern language in a different time period

Wherever you were, it was dark. Or maybe it was just the blindfold.

It felt like moments ago that you were tucked cozily into her bed, your body encased by down. There was a crash somewhere in the castle - down the hall? You were only half awake as cloth that smelled like dirt and saltwater wrapped itself tightly around your eyes, and you were dragged from her slumber.

This was a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake. Tried tried to explain this to her captors as they tugged her, but all you could muster was a few muffled noises over the bitter-tasting gag tied around you. To their credit, those holding you right now were strong and fast: they kept a tight grip on her arm while being able to shove you forward at a fast pace. Lost in your panic, you didn't catch what they were saying to each other: "Are you sure this is her?" "Yes, I'm sure. To the right, four doors down from the window."

"Your right or his right?" "The right of the window!"

They kept their tone hushed as they began to descend a staircase. In the back of your mind, you recognized the pattern in which the steps descended: one, two, three, four, turn, five, six, seven, eight, turn - they were headed down the servant's staircase in the back of the castle. There was an exit hatch at the bottom.

With little hope, you thrashed in their grip. As expected, they handled it with ease. The thought that this may be a normal occurrence swirled in your brain, inciting more and more fear.

"Would you stop? It's hard enough going down these steps without someone kicking at me," the person to your left huffed. His tone was odd. For being the perpetrator of a kidnapping, there was no biting edge to his words.

Your bare feet hit the dewy grass with no warning. In between racing thoughts and heaved breaths, you'd made it to the exit. It was summer, but the coolness of the night air settled over your skin and made you shiver. You were only in your night shift, after all: shabby cloth that provided a nearly sufficient amount of modesty.

Boom!

The noise has you screaming against the cloth as the two holding you swear.

Boom!

There it was again, loud and threatening.

“Guards are a worse shot than I thought,” the man to your left says as they pick up the pace.

Boom!

Oh, God, the guards were shooting at them — were shoot at you! Hushed prayers are whispered from your lips, though, they’re unintelligible. The person to your right must pick up on the trembling in your body because they begin moving at an impossibly faster speed. You wonder how they haven’t fainted by now, how you haven’t fainted by now.

“Don’t worry,” they say, speaking to you through the gunshots, “Never had cargo die on us before. Plus, it’s not you they’re shooting at, it’s us.”

This does nothing to quell your fears, but a new sensation under your feet works to distract your ever rushing mind. If it wasn’t for the two people practically carrying you, you would be sinking in the soft earth beneath you. It was a bit coarse, but delicate, and parted to make way for your feet. Was it sand? There was yelling in all directions: next to you, behind, in front. Then you hit an incline, and the softness of the sand roughened under your feed. You were rocking, too, and not just you, the ones holding you up. There was a crash entirely unlike the sound of the guns, and another sway — oh, fuck.

This was a ship.

“They’re on us!” One of them screamed as you plateaued to a surface

“In a minute, they won’t even see us,” a gruff voice responded, seemingly unfazed by nearing sound of gunshots. There was a loud groan and suddenly, you were moving. Though the two still had a strong hold on you, you stumbled as the ship began to move. The gunshots, which had been getting louder, were sounding much more distant. Even if it was only a minute or two since you’d been hoisted onto the ship, it felt like hours.

“I was hoping this would be a clean job, y’know, no—” The gruff voice which had spoken before stopped. You could hear an unsteady breath as footsteps neared you.

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”

And then there was light, nearly blinding from the amount of time you’d spent in the dark. The owner of the voice ripped the cloth from your eyes in one swoop, and you cringed at the bleeding dawn along the horizon.

“What?” You whipped your head to the left, finding a tall older boy with dark brown hair and bright eyes.

“This is not the Princess.” You could now see the owner of the gruff voice, who was a middle-aged man with greasy, chin length blonde hair and scruff around his chin. His eyes were trained on you as he spoke.

“What?” The boy repeated.

“You grabbed the wrong goddamn girl, Gale,” the man’s voice boomed.

“I told you something was off,” the man on the right — tall and bald — groaned.

“Why the hell did you not say that before you kidnapped her?” The blonde man huffed.

“I did!” He argued back.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Gale spoke up.

“I…I don’t know,” the blonde sighed, “We can’t go back now, not like this. They’ll have the land and water covered in an hour. Just take her down.”

“Haymitch, I’m really—”

“Just take her down, Gale,” Haymitch, the blonde man, repeated in a stern tone. The boy bowed his head, and the bald man followed suit, turning you and hauling you away from the front of the deck. Had you not been so dimmed with exhaustion from running from gunfire and screaming against the gag in your mouth, you may have done a little more fighting during that conversation. Instead, you studied the crew of the ship who were running around as though you didn’t exist. They shouted at each other, likely still executing their speedy getaway off the main island. As they lead you to the door at the middle of the dock, you noticed Gale eyeing you.

“You’re…not the Princess?” He asked quietly.

“She can’t speak,” the bald man rolled his eyes before taking the gag from your mouth. Immediately, you heaved in a deep breath, finding that the air was still salty even without the seawater-flavored gag.

“You’re not?” Gale repeated his question as though you didn’t hear him.

“No.” You found your voice to be hoarse, but forceful as you glared at him. In finding this voice, questions exploded from your mouth.

“What the hell is going on? Let me go! Why did you take me? Where am I?” They ignored these questions.

“We should’ve asked her first,” the bald man groaned.

“She would’ve said ‘no’ even if she was the Princess!” Gale yelled. They pushed past the door and lead you down the steps to a small hall. They turned onto the first room.

“Well, we’re here,” Gale sighed, letting go of your arm. Your limbs felt like jelly from being pulled and shoved for so long, however, you tried your hand at pushing past them and running. The question of where you would go was a thought for later.

“Woah,” the bald man immediately grabbed ahold of you as you attempted your escape, “Please try to stay put, alright? There’s not many places for you to go.”

“Why am I here?” You asked again, your tone laced with anger.

“Just sit tight for a while, okay?” Gale spoke awkwardly as he and the other man kept you still.

“Sit tight?” You repeated indignantly.

“Please just go sit, I don’t want to tie you up,” the bald man sighed. To your surprise, there was genuine sympathy in his voice. Even so, you stared at them, unmoving. This silent chess match carried on for another thirty seconds before a groan left Gale, and he shoved you to the floor. Your behind hit the floor hard, and before you could scramble to pick yourself up, they were out the door. You got to your feet and helplessly tried the doorknob, but it was already locked.

“That was just plain rude,” you could hear the muffled voice of the bald man through the door, “What’s wrong with you, man?”

“She wasn’t moving,” Gale’s voice was somewhat unfazed.

“You’re an ass, really.” The voices faded out, and it was then, for the first time in what seemed like forever, that you were alone. The room was small, wooden, and windowless. There was a cot with a threadbare blanket and a sorry excuse for a pillow on one end and a tattered table and chair on the other.

You tried to find ways to occupy yourself: banging on the door, screaming, punching the pillow, questioning God, picking at the wood, acquiring splinters. Any amount of time could’ve passed: seconds, minutes, hours, days. Well, maybe not days, but it felt like it. You were laying on the cot, counting the rings in the ceiling when the lock jostled. You sat straight up, jumping from your bed when the door opened. You rushed at the entry, only to be blocked by a rough hand.

“They said you’re quick,” a mellow voice followed the hand. This wasn’t the man who demanded you were taken here or either of the ones who followed his orders; he was new. Sandy blonde hair that gently spiked on his head, tanned skin, likely from his days on the deck, dark blue eyes, and pink lips that stretched into a crooked smile. While one of his arms kept you secure, the other held a tray with a portion of bread, a bowl, and a metal cup.

“What is going on?” You asked gruffly.

“I can tell you, but you have to promise you won’t run the second I step away from this door,” he said, looking a bit more calm than one might expect. You, still staring him down, considered the options, and with a relenting sigh, backed away. He entered the room, that easy smile still on his face as he shut the door behind him.

“So,” He spoke, eyeing you, “I take it you’re not the Princess.”

“No, I am not,” you responded, voice terse with frustration.

“I see,” he nodded, then gestured towards the cot for you to sit. You obliged cautiously. As far as kidnappings went, this one was rather polite — but it was still a kidnapping.

“I can assure you that the plan was not to kidnap you,” he sighed, taking a seat at the table. He extended the tray of food towards you, but you don’t take it. Not yet.

“And what was the plan?” You asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Well, darlin’,” he began, “The plan was to kidnap the Princess and ransom her back. Take that money and spread it across the islands, give back to those who need it.” Suspicion peaked in you, and it was obvious he could tell, because his smile stretched further.

“What, don’t believe me?” He hummed, cocking his head.

“Would you trust someone who stole you?” You fired back. He laughed gently at that.

“Probably not, but you’re lucky it was instead of anyone else,” he spoke.

“Lucky?” You repeated with a scoff.

“Darlin’, this ship we’re on? It’s the Mockingjay,” he set his palm on his knee. This struck a chord; the Mockingjay. You’d heard of them before, just rumors. Some called them the gentle pirates, others called them weaklings. They took what they wanted with force, but never caused any casualties.

“I’m Finnick,” he interrupted your thoughts suddenly, extending his hand, “And I’m just dying to know your name.”

Though you took his hand with reluctance, you didn’t speak a word. This creased a wrinkle along his forehead.

“I think it’s best if we do introductions now rather than later,” he said, keeping his deep blue eyes on you. A sigh escaped you before you turned from his gaze and towards the ceiling.

“Y/n,” you replied quietly.

“Pretty name. Wish we were meeting under different circumstances, but I’ll take what I can get,” he grinned, “Who are you, Y/n?”

“I’m a maid,” you spoke, unsure why you replied instead of ignoring him, “The Princess’s Lady in Waiting. Her companion.”

“Ah, I see,” he hummed, “That’s why you had yourself a room up there. You and the Princess close?” You don’t respond to this, jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry for this, Y/n, truly,” he frowned, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“But it was a kidnapping all the same,” you sigh.

“You’re right. You’re right, but we’re not perfect people. We do what we have to. And right now,” he grabbed the tray once more, extending it towards you, “I have to make sure you eat.”

“Aren’t you supposed to give me the tray and leave?” You glared at him.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, the tray still in his hands, “I guess I do what I want. And I want to sit with you while you eat.”

“Why?” You don’t let up with your accusing gaze.

“I wouldn’t want a pretty lady starving on my ship. That would just break my heart,” he grinned. Another second of silence.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked, a weak shudder in your voice betraying your cold stare. It would make sense, after all: you were useless. The King wouldn’t pay a ransom for a maid.

“What?” The question seemed to genuinely shock him, “No, oh, God, no. I wouldn’t lay a hand on you.”

“What about them out there? The rest of the crew?” You gestured to the door.

“They wouldn’t either, but even if they tried, I wouldn’t let them get to you,” he spoke, surprisingly reassuring, “You’re not going to be killed, I can assure you of that.”

You swallowed hard, finally looking back at him to see the genuine look in his eyes. He seemed kind, which was strange. Was it some sort of manipulation tactic? A means to an end?

“Are you going to eat, or should I start spoon-feeding you?” He asked, that easy smile appearing on his face once more. Hesitantly, you took the plate from his hands. He stayed there, sitting across from you, watching you lift the cup to your mouth. Sadly, you couldn’t deny your manners, and before you took a sip, you looked at him.

“Thank you, Finnick,” you mumbled.

“My pleasure, Darlin’,” he replied, grinning as you tucked into your meal.

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick imagine #thg finnick #pirate!finnick #pirate!finnick x reader #the hunger games #pirate au #pirates #thursday writes

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neosero · 7 months

Text

[ 01:15pm ]

and sometimes you have to remind yourself they’re gods

p.ii | fontaine version

word count | 7.5k total

noteworthy warnings | gn!reader; excessive use of the word ‘you’ sorry lol; rushed fiction; dark themes [ ? ]; violent/gory descriptions [ ? ] ( venti ); false descriptions of the archon war, implied kidnapping ( zhongli ); false post-cataclysm descriptions; inazuma spoilers for new players ( ei ); implied sag!au ( nahida ); version 3.2 spoilers and beyond ( special mention o.o );

if you find any of these warnings uncomfortable scroll away. viewer discretion is advised.

THE ANEMO ARCHON Lord Barbatos | wc. 1.5k+

Venti had always been known to chug down one too many kegs of wine when given the chance.

Although he slurs about the price going to his tab, it is always you who has to fix up every mess. Whether it be ending fist fights, pleading with angry bartenders or paying half his tabs in compensation, the guy really knows how to ruin someone’s night.

“It wasn’t my fault this time.” Venti’s whining starts right off the bat, not caring that you have barely made it any distance from the bar. It's clear with the way he stumbles that he has long since past his limit. Your arm securely holds him by the shoulder opposite of you, an attempt to steady his wobbly footing although the sigh from his lips tells you he believes the touch is something else.

“I don’t need your excuses, Barbatos.” Your words are hushed but still harsh. His body deflates at the sound of his name used in such a tone, however he still refuses to relent.

“I promise you it wasn’t me who started it. The guy was…mouthing about everyone in there; he started saying nasty stuff about Brook’s drinks, called my music terrible and he then started…” saying things about you.

Well the guy attempted to until Venti stood from his stool, the force of the movement - or so he explained - must have tipped the drink over and spilled all over the poor guy’s clothes. Of course he got angry, who wouldn’t but when he started shouting about payment that’s when things took a turn. When Venti declined and left to grab another bottle the guy rushed him. It wasn’t his fault the guy was so drunk he missed the swing and stumbled off so badly he tripped and broke his nose. But it wasn’t like you were gonna believe a word coming from his mouth, he’s played the intoxicated card too much for it to have just been an accident this time around.

“I know you pushed him.” He opens his mouth to retort, “I know you pushed him because candles just don’t blow out within a closed bar with no windows, Barbatos. I know you pushed him because that man explained it felt like he was being shoved into the ground when he fell, Barbatos. I know you pushed him because this has been the same story with you for the last three weeks! By the gods, what has gotten into you?”

You’ve both gotten far enough from Springvale to talk freely, but hearing your voice carry in the winds of the quiet forest hurts a lot more than being scolded in front of the dozen or so citizens. You come across an abandoned supply wagon and take this as a moment to stop. By helping Venti up the back of the wagon to sit on its edge, you take the time to look him over. It is always surprising how he comes back unscathed from every encounter; not a single hair out of place, nor smudge of cheap alcohol anywhere on his clothes or lingering scent of said alcohol anywhere in the air - only noticeable when close enough to his lips. Venti sways in his seat, head hung low like a child who's been told off by their parents and sometimes it feels like just that. You sigh.

“I’m not upset with you.” The change in your tone makes his head raise and a noticeable color return to his face.

Yeah, just like a child.

“I just wish you’d fix whatever you have going on with you right now. I have a lot on my plate as is with the Knights of Favonius and getting everything I can with that Snezhnayain diplomat. I had to leave a meeting that could have been a pivotal breakthrough with them today because of you!”

You don’t see it with how you fix the legs of your armored plating, but Venti rolls his eyes. He knows about the plans of the Cryo Archon. He knows a lot more than what he lets on to the traveler or anyone else who inquiries about the matter; there's a reason he normally steers clear of the Adventures Guild’s Katherine. Still the more he relays the information to you, warnings upon warnings of caution, you don’t listen. It is demeaning knowing what little trust you have for your own god, let alone having to continue this conversation every night.

“...and you might not take this seriously, Venti, but it's really disappointing.”

“You're more disappointed that I ruined date night.” Venti had tried to hold it in, he really did but hearing you praise that woman Signora over giving praise to your own archon would make any one of Celestia’s chosen snap. He stands then, the most sober movement he has had all night and you scoff.

“Oh may Celestia take me now! This again? For the last and final time I am simply working with the women. It’s my job and whatever I do shouldn’t matter to you.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you are a god!” The winds pick up, there is a clear green gleam in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “People offer prayers to you daily. They work and celebrate all in your name. You used to split mountains, Barbatos…What I do should be insignificant to the eyes of someone like you: our supposedly high and mighty deity.”

“It's high time you act like it.”

There is a heavy thudding in the distance, you turn around missing the clear shake in Venti’s hands. The wind rages on stirring the clouds above but you don’t care as you catch sight of a Mitachurl barreling in your direction. Clearly your shouting stirred it somehow and with how fast it's charging there is no room to run.

You draw your sword and stand in front of Venti as protection, “Damn. We’ll continue this later.” He’s gone quiet and when you dare to look away from the charging beast to see your archon, your skin runs cold. He’s bleeding in his right hand, fist balled so tight he shakes as he breaks skin and it runs down to evaporate before it hits the ground. His lyre rests in his left but it's different; the strings, once a vibrant glow of green, run a deep dark red almost the same color as the blood on his skin.

“Vent-” you begin to call out but the words are cut off by the heavy shout before you. You turn your neck quickly to see the Mitachurl with its ax raised high, about to strike. When had it gotten so close? You brace yourself ready to hold off the blunt force as best you can, turning again to shout for Venti to move.

But he strums his first note.

This sound is far different then what you’re used to. What was once a gentle, harmonic strumming of a lyre blessed in the winds, now feels dissonant. The sound is a deep vibration one that could only be described when hitting the wrong keys at the end of a piano in quick concession. A sound you feel breach into the roots of your lungs and pry out all the air you have stored.

You can’t breathe.

The sword falls from your hands as you frantically clutch your chest. Your legs wobble and your head is hammering, the need to breath is overwhelming but with every harsh breath you take in it all seems to be sucked out.

“Barbat-”

“You want a god. I’ll show you god.”

Barbatos strums his second note.

This sound has a higher pitch, the noise most quickly catches you as that of a violin when you bring it’s bow down with a little too much pressure against the wrong chord. There’s a force to this note, one you must assume was the same the guy at the bar felt as you are shoved into the wagon. The force of the blow leaves you more winded then you were before. All your strength feels drained from your body and your knees give out. There is no time to recover though…

Not when Lord Barbatos pulls at his third and final string.

You don’t register this one, the ringing in your ears and overall loss of oxygen leaving you closer and closer to the brink of unconsciousness. Even so you watch him toy with the string. The wind has picked up and now you notice the Mitachurl raised in the air, it struggles with its head thrashing about. Venti turns to you, a smile crazed and eyes dim.

Then he lets the string go.

It's hard to watch. Wind isn’t a visible thing, but in this very moment you pinpoint just where the breeze shifts and changes as it tears through the beast limb from limb. Arms and legs twist and bend, its chest constricts slowly and its head rotates like an owl with a chorus of loud cracks of bones; if it wasn’t for how close you feel to the brink of death yourself you know the sounds of the snapping and screams would have killed you alone. Barbatos stares still.

It doesn’t last long, the sheer horror of it all ends quickly as the Mitachurl is compressed into the origin of the tornado it's caught in until it blows in a rain of blood. The loss of oxygen finally gets to you as your eyes drift but not before seeing the finale of your oh so mighty deity.

He stands unmoving as the blood pours down in a shower along his face, eyes now closed, “disappointed in your god now?”

THE GEO ARCHON Rex Lapis | wc. 1.6k+

Six-thousand years ago, the start of the Archon War.

A long and painful four-thousand years of battle over a couple seats at the throne that was already predetermined. Four-thousand years wasted away killing friends and family and loved ones for power they themselves now wish to throw away. A lot of gods didn’t want to be a part of this…holy massacre - or whatever these scholars wish to paint it as - and you were one of them. You were given many names for your time: Theia, Anthos, Gia. The only thing that remains certain within all books of history is your ability to create elemental stones.

Ascension silver, within today’s terms, was a skill none could manage; for being a god who could bond to a multitude of elements at once was beyond even the original seven of Celestia. The gems you produced offered various needs opposed to the power of visions; pyro silver for warmth, hydro silver to be shattered and give rain, geo crystals for fortitude in times of terrible weather, dendro crystals to fertilize plants, cryo silver to cool in the warmer weathers and electro silver to strengthen weapons for combat. It all could be found in the midst of your domain.

Your domain resided in the Huaguang Stone Forest, within the underbelly of Mt. Aocang. It was just a large hollowed cave filled with crystals and home to a small community of humans. They traded off the crystals you produced, for food and supplies, holding festivals and village gatherings under your name. When they needed protection, your crystal walls provided and the Vishaps, organic creatures of your creation, helped protect those from outside.

All was good, all was at peace.

Until six-thousand years ago, the start of the Archon War.

Tremors grew in both number and extremity over time. Your people starved and scared as trade drew to a halt and more and more outsiders flocked for your domain for protection. The energy of fellow gods and people you once thought would grow old together die out like the stars one by one. However, within your domain all was good, all was at peace, all was protected.

Or so you thought until you met Rex Lapis, the self proclaimed God of Geo, four-thousand years ago during the Archon War.

He requests your assistance, he speaks of monsters and demons emerging from the earth of Guili Plains and that without you they would consume the earth and all within it. You were hesitant to believe him, not when he stormed in covered in the blood of gods and an army of yaksha armed tooth and nail to your fortress of peace. When you speak of the wellbeing of your people he promises to ensure their safety with a few of his yaksha, but when you question him further its General Musatas who warns you to watch your tongue when speaking to one of the chosen seven. Thinking back about it now that should have been the first sign of danger; putting your trust in a god fighting to be apart of the corrupt Celestia. But your people needed more help than what you could provide alone, and you still young and naive wanted to believe that the word of the god of gods was absolute.

So you leave and for a thousand years you fight for a cause you thought to be pointless. You watch gods die, your crystal shields only doing so much in the onslaught of war. Whenever you came close to being wounded it was Morax who protected you from harm time and time again. Taking the blunt force of claws and the heavy pummeling from Osial, all to keep you from harm's way. You had thought it was admirable…if only that same persistence was there for Guizhong.

When she perished on the battlefield you all were pushed back. In a last stand against the enemy you took hold at Mt. Tianheng, and it was there we prospered. Rex Lapis’ sheer power and battle strategy in command of the adeptus and five general yaksha pushed through for the victory and settlement of Liyue. It was then the god of contracts requested a binding: all remaining adeptus would stand to protect Liyue if danger ever stirred once again.

And once again you were a fool to trust the words of the god of gods.

For the others were allowed to roam as they pleased until called upon and you were to remain within Liyue Harbor forever at the side of your god Rex Lapis. He claimed it was for protection, your powers being the strongest he’s seen for a lifetime, however you could only recall being of no help to protect the ones you hold dear on the battle field.

You fight, complain and wrestle against his iron grip but the contract holds still. As the Harbor prospered and grew over the years, it left you with the stronger desire to see your people once again. A request with the yaksha would fall on deaf ears as they were still to handle the aftermath within the Plains, but when talk of corruption and madness spread among the masses you had feared the worst. Against your better judgment you left, you thought the wellbeing of your people is more important than the loyalty you have in some god.

When you return to the Stone Forest, you’re enveloped with a sense of home. You spot Cloud Retainer at the top of the peak, but she is gone before you can offer a wave. When you finally reach the door to your domain your heart drops. The Geovishaps who stand guard are nowhere to be found and the energy of your barrier left so long ago has run dry. Even with the clear signs, you still push forward and believe in the word of Morax.

Still so young and naive.

The domain is bathed in dried blood. There are bodies upon bodies of your people scattered along the floor, their blood painted over your crystals and the bodies of yakshas having killed everyone else looked to have turned against each other. Tears of pure silver fall from your eyes as you make way through your temple, a last ditch effort for hope of any survival…for anything.

Everything lays in shambles - crystal decoration of your own design shattered across the floor, Vishaps of all ages lifeless and unmoving just like the images of the gods all those years ago. What breaks you is what sits at your throne: the remaining villagers all curled together encased in a crystal prison. It was a skill you taught your strongest Vishaps just before your departure, never considering that they would need to use it you had no way of reversing its effects. You fall into a sob, pillars of crystals sprouting just where your tears meet the bloody ground. All hope is lost from you until you feel the looming presence of Rex Lapis.

At first, you're overjoyed.

He could somehow fix this. Given his ability to cleanse gods and shape islands with minimal effort, this could be done by the snap of a finger. You stand with some difficulty, the gems having crystalized at the bottom hem of your garments almost keeping you weighted to the floor as a warning. You pay no mind.

Then, all at once, you’re afraid.

When you reach him, smiling and happy for once to be in his presence, the weight around you feels heavy. The glare of Rex Lapis is stone cold, gold irises like slits of the dragon you witnessed decapitate so many of your old friends. The general Alatus to his left stands armed and ready, and to his right Cloud Retainer - one normally so proud and boastful, hangs her head low behind the god before her.

“You left.” His voice is calm, a stark contrast to the way he is looking at you. Glaring at you like the enemy. “Well yes.” You begin, a stutter to your voice, “the war has long since reached its close…and with n-no more danger I thought it would be alright to-”

“Danger is always upon us. You went against our agreement.” There's a bass in his voice that rocks a tremor through your body as well as the cave you reside in, its strength leaves Alatus to stumble his footing and Cloud Retainer to dip her gaze that much lower. You, however press on, “I had no plans to be gone long a-and with no word from my home I feared the worst. So I had to-”

His hand envelops your throat in an instant. Rough, scaled fingers grip tightly around you and when you make an effort to speak he squeezes harder. “You had to remain within the harbor. We had an agreement. You swore an oath to me, an oath that was never to be broken.” Frantic fingers grip at his hand, you try to pry him off of you but your body feels like it's being pulled by an unknown force that leaves you weak and him unmoving. He watches you struggle, and somehow in those eyes you see him pleased with the way you whither in his grasp.

“Should I take care of them, Master?” General Alatus’ mask envelopes his face, karmic energy flowing from his body. You shutter as his blade is brought to your sides. Rex Lapis turns his head swiftly, the first he’s looked away from you since he’s got here, and glares harder. In seconds the general is brought to the floor in a shout of pain. In the position he kneels, Alatus clutches the floor in a grip so tight you’d think he was trying to push against the heavy pull of the world’s gravity. “You will hold your tongue until I see fit for your suggestions, General.”

Alatus nods as best he can, body struggling just as much as yours to try and fight against the power of the god of geo. The glow of his scales dims, and the yaksha begins to breathe as he stands on wobbly legs. It is then the archon drops you. You swallow oxygen in desperately and cough it back out heavily as you gaze up at the man before you. When he reaches for you again, you scurry away but not far enough. This time he grasps your arm dragging you away breathless and reaching for what’s left of your home.

He scoffs at your sorry state, “your offense to me isn’t great, but you still will be punished for your disobedience.” You’re helpless to it all, too weak to challenge one of the chosen seven of Celestia. He snaps his fingers and just like all those years ago he takes you from your home.

Back then it was for a cause, an unspoken oath you had no idea would chain you to a man you don’t believe in; but now it's as a prisoner, a powerless god who watches their domain crumble right before your eyes.

THE ELECTRO ARCHON Raiden Shogun | wc. 1.1k+

“Leave us.”

For a moment, you think she sounds disappointed. The guards release you from your binds and you're quick to snatch your wrists away to rub the tender skin. They give stiff bows and with stiff, sharp pointed turns make way for the doors of the Shogunate’s chambers. When they leave the room, Baal and the kitsune Saiguu emerge from the panels behind the back of the throne. Baal is as calm as ever; she sits eyes closed, knees folded below her and her wagasa twirling in her slender fingers as if pondering something. Saiguu seems more openly displeased; her tail rests rigid behind her when she sits beside her own Shogun, she looks concerned as she scans your body and you notice she has left her cigarette holder behind.

You are in real trouble now.

Beelzebul had descended her throne before the guards even walked through the door. She paces in between you and her sister, her strides come to match the tempo of the thunder that increases in volume over the heavy rain from the outside world. When a particularly loud clash resonates through the skies, Baal stops her twirling. “Ei, you’re beginning to cause a stir amongst the people.”

She stops her pacing and so too does the thunder if only for a little. Beelzebul looks you over and it seems that fans her flame even more when her eyes rack over your body. Her gaze doesn’t match that of Saiguu’s though. “You’re wounded.” She finally speaks, it's more at you than to you. The wound is nothing serious, a small scratch to the arm that has left your garments a little bloody but it's really nothing that won't heal by the morning. She moves quickly for bandages, trying and failing to distract herself from imploding, but when she gets close with the adhesive you dodge around her touch.

The first clash of lightning strikes the seas.

Beelzebul sighs and stands, you watch the bandage begin to buzz and spark in her grasp. “Bleed out for all I care.” In an instant, the cloth blows and dissolves in a small show of flames. You flinch.

“Ei-” Baal begins again, her hair glows at the tips and you know she is fighting to calm the storm of emotion that continues to rage outside.

“What did you hope to gain by seeing her again at such a time? We are in the middle of a war of gods and you see it fit to chase a traitor.”

“Chiyo is no traitor!” You don’t mean to yell, but the way she spits the word ‘traitor’ has your blood boiling. Baal makes no effort to calm you down. “She had been trapped inside the belly of that beast for so long; months fighting her way from the inside out. That could turn anyone to madness…and when she finally emerges scared and confused you try to kill her.”

“She’s become crazed with madness. Something in that beast left with her and a blight like that can’t be cleansed. Saiguu knew the moment she saw her.” You break your gaze to look at the goddess.

Saiguu nods at you even without looking your way, “Not even a cleansing from the Sacred Sakura would have helped. Even being that close I could tell that blight ran deeper than her soul. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head vigorously. There had to be something you could do, even if that meant caging her within the temple for an eternity anything would have been better than more death. “There was something we could have done. I know it. Rukkhadevata would know something; she knows everything. Let me go to Sumera and-”

A dry chuckle bursts from Beelzebul, “It seems you might have been tainted by whatever she had. If you think you are in the right to start making requests now I can assure you it won’t happen. Have you forgotten the current situation: we are at war, not just us but all the gods. You were only lucky enough to get to the forests before I had to save you from that beast.” The air around you feels static. The hairs on your body raise and the wound on your arm feels like it’s being pinched every so often. “Why are you so adamant on leaving my protection?”

“Protection?! Your protection! You keep me imprisoned. I cannot see anyone but who you allow me too. I am followed constantly and whenever I so much as breathe in the direction of the outside world I’m dragged away. You keep me here shielded like some precious doll while everyone else fights.” Baal’s gaze meets yours behind her sister almost there to push you on. “I am a soldier to this nation before anything else and would rather take my chance out there than to live knowing I sat sheltered and protected like a coward with you here.”

Ei’s stunned. A storm ripples through her gaze and for a second you think those purple hues of clouds show shines of rain.

Instead lightning clashes before you.

The blunt end of her blade is brought to the heart of your chest in a flash. The feeling of its energy pulsing so close makes the tales of its power in battle sound underplaying, stray bolts of lightning bounce off it and reach in to rub under your clothed skin. You jolt. Saiguu makes an effort to stand but Makato raises her hand to halt her advance.

“If you wish to die so eagerly, I will strike you down here myself.”

It's clear she means it; having already slain and severely injured two of her closest friends there would be no hesitation if you had to be next. Makoto finally decides it's time to intervene, her fingers curl along her sister’s shoulder and although Ei doesn’t break away the energy pressing into your chest does decline in pressure if only for a second. “Pain doesn’t last an eternity.”

They don’t even look at each other when she speaks, she just holds her there. You think it has to be something only they could feel as twin gods and hope Makoto wins the internal battle. The sword dissolves in her grasp and you let go of the breath you had thought to be your last. “You're both hurting and you might fight it but it's for the same reason. Chiyo was dear to all of us, so were Sasayori and the others but we cannot let their deaths bring about our own. What would they have fought for? Have died for?” Ei brushes the hand from her shoulder and walks towards the balcony in long strides.

Makoto does nothing to stop her, choosing it best to let her storm settle on its own then to try and guide its course. She does turn to you, pleading you to understand — her sister only cares for the best of you. You don’t respond, staying glued to the floor while your mind tries to catch up to your heart. Ei pushes into the storm outside that leaves the doors rattling and a chill to the room. Tearing your gaze from the ground you look to your god, she now stands on the ledge head turned up towards the heavy rainfall. She looks almost strangely content with the chaos outside, you could still make out the rotting corpse of the great serpent in the distance. There is a pain bubbling from your gut as your heart still hammers in your chest. Is this the weight you must bear under the care of a god?

THE DENDRO ARHCON Lesser Lord Kusanali | wc. 1.5k+

“Tell me: what do you think shapes a dream?”

You should have known something was wrong the moment Nahida had requested to see you personally. This wouldn’t be the first time one of the archons has requested something like this from you, however Nahida’s tone of voice somehow puts you on edge. The way it echoes in the hollow room she had led you in racks a chill down your spine.

“A dream is made solely by your emotions.” You recall this from your psychology class, the professor was so invested in the topic it was kinda hard to forget. “Whatever fuels that of your wishes, memories and abstract thoughts all tie into what can shape a dream when you fall asleep.” You’ve recited that line so many times before that final exam and still remember being so pissed it was never even mentioned within the test. “However, the worries that rest in the back of your mind might also shift the course of a dream as well.”

“Hmm. I had never thought of it that way.” Nahida curls her hand under her chin thinking, “would that be the same case for a nightmare?”

“I would assume so…yes.” There is a piece you’re missing in the puzzle of questions. Her curiosity is hiding something else, something that you can’t picture right out but you do feel it with every passing second. “But why would someone try to sleep with negative emotions moving through their head?”

If it weren’t for the fact that you knew this is a virtual world you would have been fooled to see Nahida as the child that she is. Her small frame looks up at you expectantly; being the only person in her world to ever know more than that of her vast case of knowledge, she treats you much more like a new toy to play around with than as the high god everyone else believes you to be.

That in and of itself is both a blessing and a curse.

“Sometimes it can’t be helped.” You try to not think about it but you tell yourself this everyday now. “It’s something we can’t fight…the negative emotions, they are always with us because we never know what the future will hold.”

“It's all a random chance of time. One day, you could find yourself on the receiving end of a terrible storm, you could walk straight into dog poop with brand new shoes or you could even walk into a meeting with all your clothes inside out…One day you could lose a loved one, you could walk into a store and see your house in flames on the news, you could even-”

“Be trapped with no way home.” Your eyes widen. Nahida’s head is tilted ever so slightly, eyes squinted and you realize she is studying your reaction, “y-yeah you could.”

“Fascinating.”

You don’t even realize it but your voice waivers, “What is?”

Nahida looks away from you to her holo-screen behind her. With delicate fingers she swipes through files and documents you can’t catch sight of until her little fingers stop on one. You can make out the screen and it looks like a video. She taps it.

A screen materializes before you and the video plays. Image looks like the holding cells of the Knights of Favonius headquarters, but the person within the cell looks like no character you have seen in game at all. It isn’t like you remember every npc within this world, however, each character has similar features that make it obvious in telling who is who. Could this be a new character? There is no knowledge of them in recent patch notes.

Nahida’s voice startles you.

“Oh…you must be curious? This is user 804897112. Although the name he chose at the start was Starlord, his real name is Chris.”

What?

“It took him four weeks before he slipped up. They hadn’t noticed him as the Creator of that server yet but when he went around sprouting drunk nonsense about the Archon War at Angel Share things took a turn.” You haven’t been watching the screen, too caught up on understanding what Nahida had just said but the scream catches you off guard.

That person. That real life person, Chris, is chained and on his knees before Jean, Rosaria, Kaeya, Diluc and Venti. Kaeya’s sword is jabbed into Chris’ shoulder, Rosaria looks to be trying to get him to cough up any information he knows but you can’t hear anything. Did Nahida only want you to hear that screams? There is a troubled look on Jean’s face like she’s reluctant to continue this, but Venti says something that rouses everyone in the room and pales Chris’ skin. He’s crying now, snotty and nasty as Diluc beelines to him with his heavy blade.

Diluc’s greatsword raises and you gasped in horror as its brought down on Chris’ head. Out of sheer fear you clutch your own neck. Blood seeps out in a sparkle of gold and they all stand as stunned as you, the poor boy’s head tumbling over in the pool of it blood. The video ends there.

It’s hard to breathe and you're given no time to recover yourself as another plays. “This is user 119876532, Diana. She asked questions about Scaramouche’s true origins to the Shogunate. Knowledge no one should possess and again before the establishment of her identity as Creator.” This one carries no build and is from a farther angle atop a tree, like from the perch in the eyes of a bird, but it's all so vividly clear. The girl is tied to her knees before the shogun, spilling out words too quickly for you read and understand. There is no need to though, Ei is as calm as ever. She listen to Diana’s rambling, and for a second you think she might believe whatever she’s saying. Five seconds later, you watch Diana die in the same flash of lightning as La Signora.

You can’t stand now, legs given out in the horror of it all. The videos continue like this until you can’t bear to look at the screen anymore.

User 908765342 crushed by meteorite hurled by Zhongli. User 743828950 — Sam, found dismembered by a pack of hilichurls. Robert gets mauled by a geovishap. Lee can’t take it anymore and…

“Why?” The tears fall from your eyes in heavy waves. “Why show me all this? Why tell me about all these people? I don’t-”

It all connects in seconds: they found out about you.

You move to stand hurriedly and make a beeline for the exit but your feet stay planted to the floor with the sight before you. The Doctor stands grinning from ear to ear. He clasps his hands together with a sigh of glee. “You ask why and it’s simple: you survived.”

He’s on you in an instant, tightly holding your wrists in his hands and preventing your escape no matter how hard you thrash. He breathes into your neck harshly and you sob. He whispers breathlessly into your ear how he has never been this fascinated, this drawn to a specimen before and promises to be gentle in your dissection. Nahida watches you with wide interested eyes as you struggle in hope of saving yourself. You cry out to them, to your guards, to Lumine or Dehya or Thoma. To anyone who would hear you even though no one can. But still…

You scream.

Cyno breaks down your door, his gaze looking over the room hastily to find the culprit to dare stir the peaceful slumber of the Creator.

It was a dream? It was a dream and yet your wrists burn, the images of all those people looked so real.

Was this a sign? Would that happen to you if any of them ever found out? Have they already started to suspect something? What if you don’t ever get out of here? What if-

“Your grace?” Cyno’s hand brings you back to reality, hard. His fingers feel almost frozen over against the skin of shoulder and you flinch away in such a haste it brings crease to his brows. You almost question why he runs so cold but with him looking at you with so much concern you don’t think it's him that is the problem. “Do I need to go get Tighnari? I will only be a couple hours but I could stop by our Archons domain just so-”

“No!” Your voice is filled with fright, but it’s obvious that the sheer volume of your scream is what stuns him the most. You can feel the sweat run down your temple and the pound of your heart so aggressively in your ears. It takes you far too long to compose yourself but you are grateful that Cyno listens and just stands by your side.

“There is no need for all of that. I’m just a little shaken.” He doesn’t seem to take your word for it but when you explain that it was only a dream and not some illness that caused this he is partially relieved. “The doctor won’t be needed for this and it isn’t like this is something of his expertise.”

Cyno offers a quick nod before he settles in a chair at your desk. He shuffles closer to your bedside with a cross to his arms and a tense raise of his shoulders. You can’t blame him for staying alert; dreams are a new phenomenon within Sumeru and with the few months you have known him, you know Cyno doesn’t do well with handling business he cannot comprehend for himself.

It takes too long for you to finally get calm within the safety of your own bed, but it does help that Cyno — as loyal to you as he once was to the akademiya — stays by your side the whole night.

It gets hard trying to keep your mind from blurring the line between your life outside and the one within this game. Watching Cyno sleep next to you, the steady rise and fall of his chest is far too detailed for your sensitive mind to keep considering these people aren’t real people. A Sumeru rose, a gift handed to you by a child of the city, loses a petal and you watch the leaf fall then blow in a spark of pixels. You’ve been here too long.

You need to get out . . . and soon.

THE EVERLASTING GOD OF ARCANE WISDOM : Scaramouche | wc. 1.2k+

You should have known this could have been another one of the Doctor’s tricks.

You are privy to his experiments and know just about everything there is to know about his latest desires as a man of knowledge…but it seems you have gotten too relaxed within his presence to suspect that you were the next pawn to be sacrificed within this long orchestrated game.

Being left to go through with the final reports on the Balladeer’s status without his supervision should have been the first and only sign needed to show you something else was at play here. The Doctor was always to see everything himself, deeming everyone else — even you — inferior to his intellect and prone to time consuming slip ups. Why you would ever trust an order like this for its face value you will never know. But now you can tell it was a mistake.

The laboratory has been cleared on the orders of the Doctor, and yet you feel like you have been being watched ever since you have entered the building.

Since you entered Sumeru for the matter.

Pushing away the chills, you check the sixth harbinger’s vitals. Everything looks to be in order but that is to be as expected; the Doctor had said this could be close to being his greatest creation and that would obviously show in his work. You hum triumphantly and quickly move on to the next task. The body of the Prodigal is kept in a separate room, with how massive the final product came to be it was bound to happen. It is still mesmerizing to know how much raw power is stored within a gnosis on its own. Crazy how an item so small is able to create mass destruction in the world.

Everything seems in perfect shape when you finally reach the test sight. The distant hum of the overhanging lights do little to add any glory to the giant machine before you. Even without eyes its looming figure looks down upon you as if it can tell the significant power difference between you two. Dottore had told you it was nonsense; the Balladeer would be in a state of hypostasis until his body finally converges with the power of the electro gnosis. He couldn’t possibly be able to tell a slime from a hilichurl let alone know when anyone enters the room.

You find it — much like everything else that comes with interacting with the Doctor — demeaning. He undermines everyone and if it weren’t for his rank you'd have thought he was just too full of himself. His genius could be on a par with the dendro archon but that's something you’ll never admit even to the nicest of his segments.

Data shows that Scaramouche is still stable. The gnosis too somehow remains with a constant flow of energy as it diverts power to the main systems. It still eludes you how someone like Scaramouche can handle power as strong as this for as long as he has. Though you do not know the criteria of the ranking amongst harbingers, his order in the hierarchy holds true.

So caught up in your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed how close you had gotten to the body. If that presence was intimidating at a distance it pales in comparison to being up close. It towers above like the clock-house in Snezhnaya, arms and hands long and big enough to crush you whole. You shake your head from the thought.

Your hand reaches to touch the machine. The metal is cold to the touch but there is a sensation of static that travels along your arm the longer you linger there. By the time you move your hand away ready to depart to report back to Dottore, a sudden shock sparks from your hand. You pull it back with a wince. This must be an unforeseen side effect to the gnosis.

All at once your head throbs with white noise. It starts off faint but then rises to ring above all else. At first you believe it to be a faulty pipeline and look around for any signs of damage but yet again you see the perfectly unharmed lab. The sound is overwhelming and you can feel something pressing into the back of your mind. Memories not of your own flash before your eyes.

The sensations are too much to bear and you collapse when it's all too much at once. The moment you come too it feels different. The buzzing in your arm has spread throughout your body, and the noise that filled your mind is now gone, replaced by knowledge that leaves you weighted to the ground trying to understand it all.

The Balladeer…Scaramouche is…

“Was a puppet.” The voice is familiar and you cannot believe that its real. “A puppet that now wields a greater power than that of the god who chose to abandon him all those years ago.” He has ascended and so soon. Dottore’s notes were foolproof, everything down to the last decimal was precise so how could his hypothesis be false?

Scaramouche offers a snarl, and it's only now that you can register that he is inside your head with his reply, “because Dottore is a buffoon. He will always underestimate someone who he believes he could outsmart at any game, under any circumstance and do so without question. It’s that pride that will be his undoing in due time.” He walks around you, there are long pauses between every sentence and he speaks as if you will be overwhelmed by him just looking in your direction. You don’t know why you feel so grateful for it.

“Enough about him though.” He stops to kneel down to where you lay on the ground. His hand ever so delicately lifts your chin to meet his gaze and he gives you opportunity to look away. You don’t. “Let me see into you.”

Words filter through your head without him even needing to open his mouth. You’ve been connected to him by the soul, a pact between your compatible life force and his new godly abilities that were enforced the moment you touched him through the machine. You’ve been chosen as his first and whatever that entitles you don’t know but you do feel the tears roll down your eyes. Your mind cannot decipher if they are tears of joy or resentment of this new god.

Why are you calling him that?

Scaramouche wipes them away with a wicked smile. “No need for sorrow my chosen. For as your new god I will craft a world for you that leaves no room for those emotions to ever cross your features again. The Everlasting God of Arcane Wisdom will pave a way for your salvation and my glory to rise. So long as you put your faith in me and me alone.”

His hands fall from your face as he stands, but they still remain outstretched to you. The invitation hangs in the air and yet his smile never waivers like he knows what you will choose him over anything else. Like you will choose him over life itself.

And for a moment you think you will.

a/n: this is very dark of me and really shouldn’t be my comeback post but rewatching nahida’s introduction really had me in the mood to bring our archons back into the light. also yes i am formally back to writing so do expect more posts soon to come.

p/s: furina version will be up as soon as i catch up enough with her character.

#genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #venti x reader #zhongli x reader #raiden shogun x reader #nahida x reader #scaramouche x reader #[ gem’s timestamps — ⌚️ ]#again sorry this is so dark but i just had to get this off my chest #gonna be thinking about prodigal scara so much now #also welcome back me

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woongisi · 5 months

Text

Brand New God // Choi Jongho

sub!Choi Jongho x dom!fem!reader // SMUT

WC// 3.2k

Synopsis// Jongho was the perfect son in the eyes of the church. It was your mission to change that. Opportunity comes once he consumes you with a particularly sinful confession.

Warnings// blasphemy, corruption, angst for a bit, oral (male receiving), no protection (pls use it even for oral), improper use of confessional booths, dacryphilia if you squint

Author's Note// This has been a long time in the making. Hope my other religious trauma mfs enjoy it as much as I do. Title is an iDKHOW reference. ☺︎♡

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Jongho wasn't the preacher's son, but he may as well have been. Never late to mass, always helping the elders, scolding the children, the whole lot of it. Sung in the choir. Formerly an altar boy. The envy of every parent's eye.

He was always excited to see you even if he had to preface his greeting by asking why you missed mass yet again. Despite his general duties and all he was never much of an extrovert. You always felt the air of awkwardness that hung around him when he approached you. If anything gave away that he was happy to see you… it was his glossy eyes and trembling smile that he tried so hard to suppress.

Being the son every parent wanted had its perks but many downfalls in the end. Most of the other people your age had largely abandoned the strictness of their faiths. Many still kept their beliefs but no longer felt such pressure to be perfect. In turn, they tended to find Jongho annoying.

You, however? Something about him was cute. Just how nervous he was to speak to you. The deep blush that he tried to hide whenever he told you that you looked pretty. You told yourself you only really went to church out of obligation, but now you'd begun to think you were there for him more than anything. You knew he was perfect. You knew almost for a fact that he'd never touched anyone else or even himself. You'd love to ruin him but at the same time you'd accepted you'd never get to.

Right?

Something about today was different. Jongho's face was red the second he saw you, red before he'd so much as stood up to greet you.

“Miss! You look pretty as always.” He piped up and almost immediately turned to skitter away. Only stopping once you grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.

“Thank you, Jongho. Always the gentleman. You look quite handsome today yourself.” You smiled and ruffled his hair a bit. “You seem nervous. Are you alright? Are you sick?”

“N-no I’m ok!” Jongho avoided your gaze like his life depended on it. “Lying is a sin, Jongho, lying is a sin.” He whispered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Ok, look! Can… Can I ask you something?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.”

Jongho swore he'd just passed on. There was no way. No girl his age had ever called him that before… only the little old ladies.

“You- What- Ok, ok come on just follow me, alright?”

Jongho led you back to the confession booths. They were somewhat secluded, given the nature of their use. Standing with your back pressed against the wall, Jongho couldn't even hold eye contact as he stood sheepishly in front of you.

“I- Last night-” Jongho huffed and hid his face. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” You smirked. “I'm not here to judge. It's just kinda cute seeing you so nervous.”

“Cute…? Anyway! Gosh! Last night I…” One glance at the low hem of your shirt had shut him down. “Never mind. It's ok! I don't wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Get in the goddamn booth.”

“W-What? First, don't use the Lord’s name in vain. Second… what?”

“Just pretend I'm the priest, k? You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Jongho?”

“This feels wrong, but… fine.”

Jongho sat in the booth and closed the curtains with trembling hands. He'd sat in this exact spot so many times and confessed to so many little sins. Little white lies, things that weren't even necessarily sins that he simply felt guilt for. This time he couldn't shake the anxiety.

Situated on the other half, you slid the small wooden door to the side to reveal the rectangular screen that kept you both apart.

“Right. Now tell me what's got you so bothered?”

Shame devoured Jongho from head to toe. He couldn't even believe he was sitting here letting you play priest. Why the hell was he doing this? Couldn't he just tell the actual priest when it was time for confession?

“Well, last night I had a dream.”

His voice has gotten low. You could tell he was trying hard not to stutter and could almost picture his eyebrows furrowed as he picked at his nails.

“I had a dream about a girl.”

“Mhm? What's odd about that?”

“She…” Jongho sighed. “She was touching me.”

“Like a hug?” You caught on to the fact it wasn't anything innocent in an instant but took any chance you could to hear Jongho confess. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience after all.

“N-No. She was on her knees, she was dragging her nails along my thighs.”

“Ah, those thick thighs of yours? I see.”

Jongho chose to ignore that charged comment.

“She leaned down and put her mouth on my- uh- privates. And… why am I telling you this?!”

“Just relax. Let it out.”

“Ok…” The memories from the night before raced through the boy's brain. He felt like he might faint. “She bobbed her head up and down. Told me I looked handsome. Looked up at me with those shining eyes… didn't stop until I… you know.”

Jongho had slumped against the backboard of the booth, evident by the creaking. His hands nervously fidgeted with the hem of his striped wool sweater.

“She was just so beautiful, y/n… she looked like a dream.” A moment’s silence. “I mean I guess she was a dream. I just feel so filthy. I've never had a dream about that. I've never thought about someone like that. I've never even-”

You cut his rambling off. “Kissed someone? Touched yourself?”

“Both of those…” he murmured. “The worst thing about the dream is that we weren't married.”

“Jongho?”

“Yeah?”

“Was this girl me?”

“Yeah…” Jongho’s head hit the wall with a light thud.

The next thing he heard was shuffling, the cracks of old wood, and the curtain being shoved to the side.

“W-wait! I'm sorry… just… don't go.” He shot to sit straight up. “Forget what I said. Please, you're my only real friend.”

You swore you heard his voice crack at the end.

“The others our age aren't kind to me. I pretend it doesn't bother me and remember the Lord has a plan for me, but… you can only take so long of being surrounded by old people and little kids before you start to wonder what's wrong with you.”

He was undoubtedly crying now.

“You're probably already gone. Great job, Jongho, you ruined the only thing you had. Loser.”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. Unbelievable. He was what the kids wanted to grow up to be like, yet he had such a low opinion of himself?

He about jumped out of his skin once you pulled his curtain away just enough to look in at him. Though it hurt to see him like this, he did look gorgeous. His full cheeks were a rosy pink, his lashes clumped together by the big wet tears that rolled down his face. You hated how it turned you on. Just a bit.

“Y-you didn't leave?”

“Oh, Jongho…” You pouted and extended your hand out to him. “No, I wouldn't leave without a word. I wouldn't leave, period.”

When he took your hand into his you could tell his body was shaking. Though he moved to stand up, it didn't last long before he was dropped on his knees, hand still on yours. You found yourself following shortly behind.

Jongho was properly sobbing in every regard, chest heaving, his mouth babbling nonsense to beg you for forgiveness. You shook away his hand and knelt to one knee. Placing a hand upon his shoulder was the only act it took for his arms to reach around your waist and pull himself against you, his face buried in your neck, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt like you were going to disappear.

“Jongho…”, You rubbed circles on his back. “Come on. Look at me.”

Jongho obliged with hesitation, still avoiding looking into your eyes. You, of course, followed his eyes.

“I'm no prude. You can't get rid of me that easily. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. I didn't know you felt so alone, but, honestly… words aren't enough right now.”

You leaned in and placed a kiss on Jongho’s cheek. It was salty, but his skin was smooth against your lips. He flinched in shock but once you pulled away, he found himself wanting more.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Wait. Can you do that again? Please… this time on my-”

You didn't let him finish his sentence before swooping back in and taking his lips into your own. He gasped so sweetly into your mouth, he tasted like honey and hints of sweetened coffee. Undoubtedly his breakfast.

“Follow my lead, okay?” Jongho was quick to agree.

Based on watching him suck on his bottom lip when he was nervous, you'd figured they'd be soft. They were pillowy, warm, and tasted like vanilla chapstick. His large hand had a death grip on your wrist and you could tell he was riddled with anxiety.

“Jongho, fuck. You taste so good.” You sighed deeply back into the kiss. Jongho's returned advances were shy but undoubtedly needy. The kiss was broken only long enough for you to take his ear lobe gently in your mouth, exercising care not to catch on his studded earring.

Jongho flinched and whined before melting into your touch once more. His mind felt hazy, sluggish, but oh so happy. He’d never dreamed of feeling this way. He didn’t expect to feel any kind of sexual gratification until he was married… whenever that may have been. The guilt he felt for letting you go at his neck in the middle of his lifelong church was immense, but part of him found it unbelievably hot.

“Mmh, please,” Jongho’s hand rested on the back of your head. “Don’t stop.”

“You can touch me, honey.” You smirked and shimmied your jacket off your shoulders. “Wherever you want. I’m yours to explore.”

Jongho was nothing short of eager, with his hands starting to roam the shape of your body. Every stripe you licked down his neck and every sloppy kiss brought forth unholy noises from his throat. His warmly tinted skin blossomed in shades of purple and blue with your manipulation. You’d just have to give him some of your concealer.

“Jongho?”

“Yes, dear? His head slumped forward with a pant.

“Your dream. Wanna make that a reality?”

“What? Isn’t that a-”

“Sin? Mhm. If you don’t sin a bit then Jesus died for nothing.” You giggled. “Besides, it can’t get much worse than what we’re doing already.”

Jongho thought for only a moment before whining and nodding eagerly.

You removed yourself from Jongho and leapt to your feet. “Ok, well we shouldn’t do that right here on the floor. Come on, get back in the booth.”

Jongho leaned back against the wooden wall with his hands bracing himself on the railing.

“Gonna unbutton those pants, alright?” As usual, Jongho was outfitted in slim-fitting black dress pants and a white button-up, complete with a black tie. He truly did look stunning even if you’d never be able to get him to accept it.

Jongho inhaled deeply, watching your every move as you dropped to your knees and fumbled with the clasp of his belt. Undoing it, you waited a moment to fully pull his pants down.

“You’re hard, Jongie~.” You cooed and rubbed the back of his thigh. “Have you ever been hard before?”

“Not outside the ones you get through puberty… or when you're scared for a presentation… well, not until that dream.” One hand brushed your hair out of your face.

“Oh? Sweet boy. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Soon enough, Jongho had shrugged his neatly ironed slacks to the floor. Your intuition told you he’d be big… But fuck. He really was. His boxers weren’t tight-fitting in any regard, but the tent formed in them was considerable.

“Oh hell, Jongho! Seriously?! This is what you’ve been keeping from the world all this time.” You groaned and fidgeted with the rim of one of the legs of his boxers. You glanced up long enough to catch his deep brown eyes staring down intently. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you a bit antsy to be under his gaze like this.

“I got you, ok?” Jongho hummed nervously at your words.

Your hand moved across the form of his dick just enough to give him an idea of what to expect from this. The way he jolted was enough to let you know he enjoyed it. You rubbed your hand over him with a flat palm and relished in the girth you could already tell he possessed underneath the fabric.

“You’re so fucking big, damn, did you even realize that?” Jongho shook his head feverishly.

“N-no… am I really?” Jongho felt his heart skip a beat, his hand hovering over you.

You could feel his presence over you and grabbed his hand, moved it to your hair, and gave it a reassuring pat. His fingers scratched at your scalp as if on instinct, soothing himself to the feeling. Every movement of your palm sent electric shocks up his spine.

Deciding it was due time for more, you inquired as to whether you could remove his boxers… met with an overwhelming agreeance. His cock sprung from under the confines of his underwear, causing him to wince at the newly cold air. His length was nothing to laugh at, you’d be a fool not to note the considerable circumference and upward curve as well. He was unshaven as you expected with curly black-brown hair over the expanse of his balls and above the base of his dick. He had a rather prominent happy trail which, fittingly, made you incredibly happy. He was circumcised with the skin around the head a shade lighter than the rest. The tip glistened with pre-cum in the dim light. Jongho squirmed under your watch.

“I-is something wrong? Do you not want to anymore…?”

“I… I’m kind of in shock honestly. Your dick is almost as pretty as you… almost.”

Jongho whined and gripped your hair lightly in response. Your free hand caressed the expanse of his firm thighs, the other encasing the head of his dick.

“A-ah, careful!” Jongho resisted the need to buck his hips against your touch. “I-I’m sensitive. Really.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, gathered a considerable amount of drool in the space of your cheeks, and let it run down onto him. The warm sensation melted the boy’s mind. You gave him a few languid strokes to spread the makeshift lube along the length of his shaft. Using three fingers, you rubbed a deliberate line up the prominent vein situated on the underside of his cock. Jongho’s labored breathing filled the confined space with need.

“Such a pretty thing, you are.” You purred and left a quick peck just below Jongho’s navel. “Such a needy boy.” Your movements matched up with your strokes and fondles.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t worry about replying, babe. Just listen to me.”

Jongho stroked your cheek with trembling hands. “You’re so beautiful.” His words almost carried a pout and made your heart melt. They felt sincere. Like you could trust them. He meant it outside the heat of the moment.

You met Jongho’s gaze tenderly. “So, you meant it all those times, didn’t you? All the times you greeted me before mass?”

Jongho’s voice was velvety smooth in his response. “Of course I did. Even besides lying being a sin… I’ve always thought so from the first time I saw you. Always…”

“Oh, Jongho… Jongho by the time I’m done with you, you’re only going to want to worship to me.”

Feeling you’d worked him up enough by now, you took his cock into your mouth, giving him time to adjust to the new feeling. You hollowed your cheeks and sunk your head further down around him, embracing the struggle once his length hit the back of your throat. Your gag panicked Jongho, urging him to nervously make sure you’re okay. You lent him a reassuring rub to his thigh, taking his cock back into your mouth with a hum.

Jongho’s grip on your hair tightened in congruence with his loudening moans. He felt as if he might die. He felt he might’ve already died because could heaven be any better than his current situation? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Feels so good, y/n, so good.” Jongho’s voice broke toward the end of his statement. You took into consideration how he wasn't used to this, planning every ministration carefully to ensure he enjoyed each moment that he lasted.

Introducing a hand to the mix, you wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock. This gave you a bit of stability in leverage so that you could swirl your tongue all over. Around the tip, tease the slit of his head, gently over the thin band of skin below it. You pulled back from his cock with a pop to catch your breath.

“Doing ok, Jongho?” You sighed and rested your cheek against his thigh for a moment.

His head was thrown back to rest against the wood of the booth, forehead damp with sweat. He granted you a thumbs up which you found incredibly in character.

“Cum whenever you're ready, alright? Just let me know.” You lowered yourself down a bit further in order to take one of his balls into your mouth. With one hand twisting and tugging at his cock, you knew he wouldn't take much longer to bust. It seemed you were right, whimpers filling the space around the two of you.

“Close-” Jongho groaned and desperately reached for your hand that was grasping at his toned thighs. You accept his advance, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing reassuringly. His nails digging into the skin of your hand and his breath fully catching in his throat was the last sign you needed.

Swiftly, your mouth sank back around Jongho just in time for his climax. White hot cum coated the inside of your mouth, plenty of it, that had undoubtedly been waiting since his dream. You wondered briefly how uncomfortable it was for his balls to have been so full. Once Jongho came back down to reality enough, the gravity of what you'd done set in on him.

“You… you swallowed it?!” He gasped, shocked that was even a possibility.

“Mm,” You popped off of his length and shook your head. Opening your mouth wide so he could see his load pooling on your tongue, you made a show of swallowing every last drop. “Now I did.”

After a moment of silence Jongho cocked his head to the side. “Does it, uh, taste good?”

“Only because it's yours.”

Helping Jongho clean up with tissues you kept in your purse, you let him buckle his belt and help you to your feet.

“Don't you want anything in return?”

“Only for you to be mine and only mine.”

“O-Oh, I can do that. But what about your…?”

“Let's wait ‘til mass actually ends. They're gonna wonder where we've been. Come on, Jjongie.”

Anticipation shivered up his spine, taking your hand into his own to lead you to the doorway that opened to the main hall of the church.

Jongho took the initiative to kiss you tenderly. “I'll make up some excuse on the spot.”

“Deal.”

#jongho smut #ateez smut #choi jongho smut #ateez jongho smut #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #jongho imagines #jongho fic #jongho fanfic #ateez scenarios #[jo fucks ateez 🏴‍☠️]

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lmkimagines · 1 year

Note

Pardon the anon ask, I'm always asking in Anon.

The blurbs about SWK, Macaque, and Red Son about kissing them to keep them in bed are super sweet. So, now I must ask:

What about the opposite? Kissing them to coax them to bed? Like kissing them on their head to catch their attention before going to sleep or similar. (No need for NSFW unless you want to. I was just thinking fluff.)

Mild angst in Wukong's part. Mention of nightmares.

Sun Wukong

He falls asleep pretty easily but that doesn’t mean he sleeps well. He has frequent nightmares and is usually up in the middle of the night because of them. They tend to repeat but he never gets used to them, especially the ones where he’s too late to save you.

You wake up to him yelling “No!” and bolting up. You startle awake and ask if he’s okay and what’s going on.

“Y-You’re here. You’re okay.” He mumbles then evens his voice out. “Yeah, I’m fine, peaches. Just a nightmare.”

You tiredly whine as he gets up but he assures you that he’s just going to get some air.

After half an hour, though, you decide to go find him. You find Wukong sitting on one of the ledges overlooking Flower Fruit Mountain. You call out to him and sit beside him. He gives you a forced smile that turns to a genuine soft smile as you ask him to come back to bed.

When you start kissing him, the man absolutely melts into your touch. Finally giving a sigh of relief and relaxing, he agrees that you shouldn’t be out in the cold and carries you to bed.

Red Son

He tends to lose track of time when he’s working so this ends up being a rather common occurrence. To the point that Princess Iron Fan will sometimes ask you to get her son to go to sleep.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights, however, you did miss him since he’d been in his workshop all day and barely came out even to eat. You briefly greeted his mom as you passed her in the hall.

You call out his name as you enter his shop. The loud clanging that usually accompanies his work stopped.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, my love?” Red Son asked, turning in his chair to face you. You point out that it’s late and he should be in bed too. “But I really need to finish-”

He stops his protest when you start pressing kisses to his face. His face goes red and his magic flares up, causing his hair to light on fire. You giggle at the warmth on your face and tell him how much you just wanna cuddle and go to sleep but you can’t do that without your wonderful partner.

“I.. I suppose this will still be here in the morning…” He says, finally relenting. He gets up and follows you to your shared room where he gives in to your demands for cuddles.

Macaque

He usually gets home in the middle of the night so the fact that you waited up for him at all surprises him.

“Hey, sugarplum, You’re up awfully late.” He says with his characteristic grin. “Go ahead and head to bed. I’ll be in soon.” You protest that you’re not going to bed without him and he chuckles.

His smile softens and he says “Stubborn little thing aren’t you?” You tell him that it’s not unfounded since only god knows how late he stays up on any given day. “Touche”

He goes to start stripping out of his armor but you pull him in first and start kissing him. He smiles and gives you just as many kisses back as he gets into his pjs.

“Are you trying to seduce me into decent sleeping habits?” He asks, lightly laughing. You ask if it’s working. “It might be. If I come home to this every day, I might have to get home a little earlier.”

He suddenly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You laugh and kick your feet at him. He gives you a light slap on the but and carries you to the bedroom where he throws you on the bed, careful not to hit your head on the headboard.

He plops down right after you hit the bed and starts kissing you again. You laugh as his fur tickles you. You slap his arm and tell him to stop. And after that, he pulls you close and you two settle down to sleep.

#sun wukong x reader #lmk headcanon #lego monkie kid #lmk red son #red son x reader #macaque x reader #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #lmk monkey king

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megistusdiary · 2 years

Note

MMMMM idk if you write for al haitham— if you don’t ignore this request idm 🙏

anyways if you do write for him,, what about al haitham x fem!reader where someone breaks reader’s heart (kaveh perhaps for the drama) al haitham and reader are best friends and they’ve both had tension between them forever so he offers a little help ☝️ all consensual obviously we love consent here

yes ik this is like my one kaeya ask but i love this trope sm 😭😭

-🔮

oh, i absolutely will write for alhaitham hahaha. he is literally so mf fine idc idc 😇🙏

on my knees for him he is so 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️ checks all my boxes

anyways yes, yes, imagine this happening back during his akademiya days oo

but this shit straight up 90% unsexy plot sorry. just wrote this all in one sitting, shawties

warnings: dom!alhaitham and sub!fem anatomy/pronouns reader

friends to lovers, fingering/penetration (sub!receiving), ex kaveh (mentions of cheating sorta), confessions, kissing

you sat beside alhaitham at the library, clicking the top of your pen repeatedly until alhaitham exhaled sharply.

"sorry." you mumbled, setting the pen down as you read over your assignment again.

when your professor announced who the partners for this project would be, it seemed half the class was jealous while half pitied you for being partnered with alhaitham.

you felt like the archons had personally blessed you, however, finally being partnered with the man you considered your best friend.

some might argue it was impossible for alhaitham to ever have a 'best friend. the friendship bracelet matching the one on your wrist that he kept in his pocket begged to differ.

you glanced over at alhaitham, watching him flip through textbooks, letting his eyes barely even graze over the words before turning the pages.

"are you actually trying to learn anything, or just say you looked at the pages as you flipped them?"

"ha ha." alhaitham droned, tone devoid of emotion as he closed the book. "i don't see you making much progress."

"that's because i'm taking the time to actually absorb what i'm reading."

"hmph." alhaitham turned away, sifting through his pile of parchment notes. "we should finish this today. i do not want-"

"woah, woah, hold on." you stopped him, waving your hand in the air. "today? the semester ends next month." you protested. "i actually have other things to do today, you know."

"so do i. it just seems one of us is more efficient than the other." alhaitham scoffed as you rolled your eyes.

"yeah, yeah." you frowned, letting your head flop onto your hand.

"what other things are you doing today, anyways?"

"what? oh, i mean. i'm supposed to go on a date. today." your face felt warm as alhaitham cocked his head, intrigued yet slightly annoyed.

"oh. right. with kaveh."

"he told you about it?"

"i don't know why you're shocked. we live together."

"fair enough. but, yes, that's my very important thing."

"what about the others?"

"huh?" your eyes flitted down to watch alhaitham write down notes about the book he was reading, print perfectly straight and legible.

"you said important things. plural."

"oh." you paused, watching his fingers stop moving as he set his pen down. "i guess more studying as per usual."

"where's kaveh taking you?"

your eyes narrowed as he glanced over at you. "why the sudden interest in my love life?" your heart skipped a beat when alhaitham's eyes met yours.

"fine, no more questions. let's get back to business." alhaitham quickly turned back to his book, leaving you with a heated face and mixed emotions.

truth be told, you did like kaveh, but you also had liked alhaitham for years. no matter how many hints you dropped, though, alhaitham always seemed to dodge them.

and maybe that was the hint meant for you to stop pursuing him.

you had met kaveh earlier in the year. alhaitham never had guests over, so you always spent time at your place. you only ever got to speak to kaveh due to discovering you studied in the same place between classes. one crowded morning, you found yourself sitting together due to a lack of space. and the rest was history.

alhaitham never failed to make your heart flutter with anything he did. despite his witty remarks and snappy comments, he was a gentleman at heart. he always brought you an extra jacket if it was cold, prepared snacks for you, brought you more parchment before you could run out. he was always attentive, even without trying to be.

kaveh was much more easy-going, dropping flirty remarks in all of your conversations. he was very direct about his interest in you, though you were blissfully unaware of his habits to flirt with many people at once.

the rest of the study session carried on in silence, leaving you to finish writing your notes sloppily, hand cramping and exhausted as you slammed your pen down. "okay, i'm tapping out. it's getting late, and i need to go get changed." you told him as he hummed.

"how far did you get?"

"i'm done with page 8." you frowned, turning towards him slowly. "don't even think about making a 'i'm on page 15' comment."

alhaitham's lips quirked up in a faint, yet rare smile that made you smile back shyly. "i'll see you tomorrow."

"i hope your...dinner is pleasant." was all he said, turning back to finish writing his notes as you sighed.

"promise me you're not going to stay here all night. go home and get some rest. you work too hard sometimes, you make me all worried."

alhaitham scoffed, shaking his head. "it's not that i choose not to sleep."

your eyebrows arched at his remark, though he made no further comment, prompting you to collect your things and rush home to change for your date.

you couldn't help but admit you were excited. you had the perfect outfit planned, twirling in front of the mirror to admire it from all angles. and you were ready just in time, hearing three knocks on your door as you announced you were coming to get the door.

"kaveh!" you smiled, gesturing for him to come in.

"ready to go?" kaveh asked, adjusting his hair in the mirror as you grabbed your bag and shoes.

"yeah! sorry i'm running late." you apologized, slipping your shoes on and locking the door behind the two of you. "alhaitham and i are partners for this project, and he wanted to do a bunch today, and i think i can't read anymore."

kaveh laughed, eyes full of mirth. "sounds just like him. typical."

"so, where are we going?"

"you'll see." he smiled down at you, leading the way to a small cafe down the street. "found this place when alhaitham took my key and i couldn't get in to our house." kaveh laughed, opening the door for you.

once the two of you were seated, a waiter approached you rather quickly, greeting kaveh like a close friend. "the usual?" he asked as kaveh nodded. he scribbled something down on his notepad before turning to you.

your eyes widened, trying to take in the menu all at once before kaveh offered to order for you. "trust me, everything's good here, but i'll order the best. you'll love it."

while waiting for the orders, you noticed a few girls passing by on the street, some older couples, and even some stray kitties.

you did not expect someone to stand over your table and eagerly greet kaveh.

"hi, kaveh!"

you jumped, turning to see a girl your age at the table, smiling down at him as he sent her a smirk. "hey, long time no see."

"yeah, it has been pretty long, huh? funny seeing you here."

your eyes flitted in between them, brows furrowed as you took in their conversation. why hadn't she asked about you?

"um, excuse me-"

"can i help you?" she asked, cocking a brow as you frowned.

"we're in the middle of a date...right now..."

she rolled her eyes, shrugging. "okay? kaveh and i went on one like last week."

"what?" you turned towards kaveh who simply nodded. "kaveh, i thought you said we were dating."

"we are." he confirmed. "what's the issue?"

"i thought that meant it was just, i don't know, us..." your frown deepened as the girl held back a giggle.

"don't be ridiculous. just because you're dating someone doesn't mean you own them." she leaned towards you.

"i never thought i owned him- what is your problem?

"hey, maybe you guys should-"

"oh come on, kaveh, what did you tell her? so what, he goes on dates with lots of people. big deal."

"that's fine! i just...i thought we were different. i thought it was special." your eyes started to water and you panicked, begging yourself not to cry in the cafe.

"i didn't realize it was that big of a deal." kaveh awkwardly added, scratching the back of his neck. "most of the time it's just singular dates anyways and-"

you suddenly stood up, brushing the hair away from your face. "i'm going home." you announced, barely controlling your sniffles as kaveh raced to stand up. "don't. you should've just been upfront with me. because...because if i knew it wasn't serious to you from the start, i would've just told you no."

you pulled your coat on, storming off with kaveh hot on your heels. "hey, hey wait up! look i didn't mean to make you cry. i'm sorry-"

"sorry isn't cutting it right now, kaveh. i just- i need space, okay? i didn't realize it was just...dating around to you. i'm not looking to fool around. i thought we were serious."

"we are! but you know how hard commitment is for me, and i really am trying here."

you took a deep breath, finally feeling tears streak down your cheeks. "thank you for trying, okay, but if it's really all that hard for you, then we shouldn't force it."

"what, so it's just done? like that?"

you pinched the bridge of your nose, shaking your head. "yeah. just- just go drink your coffee and talk to that other girl. i can't do this right now."

kaveh watched, finally not following as you walked home, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you sat on a bench in the park, taking a break to wipe your face with your sleeve.

you considered going to alhaitham for comfort, though you figured he'd be the worst person to ask since he lives with kaveh. how were you even going to face him? it all made your head hurt as you sniffled, wiping snot into your sleeves as you took a deep breath.

you could only hope he was still at the library (against your advice) and not at his house. you shielded your face when you walked in, desperately looking for his table. though it seemed he somehow spotted you before you saw him.

he approached you, guiding you towards his table and sitting you down across from him. "what did he do?"

"nothing. it was my own stupid fault for thinking i was the only one."

alhaitham's usual stony facade softened as he leaned over to wipe your tears, smoothing a thumb down your cheek. "kaveh's always been like that. i'm sorry for my roommates stupidity."

"i just...i broke up with him and i left him. what do i do now?" you asked, confused and hurt as alhaitham sighed, leaning back to collect his things in his bag. "what are you doing?"

"i'm taking you home. people are starting to look over here instead of minding their own business. come on." alhaitham gestured for you to stand, holding his arm out for you to take as your lips parted. "are you coming or not?"

you quickly held onto him, cheeks heating up as alhaitham carried your bag for you along with his own bag filled with books. "i can carry my own stuff, you know."

"i can handle it, don't worry about me."

"i always worry about you." you admitted as alhaitham pretended not to hear it, leaving you to frown at your feet. the second you got to your door, alhaitham fished the key out from your purse, opening the door and closing it skillfully with his foot. he set both of your things down, perusing your kitchen for your kettle and something he could make you to eat.

your heart hammered in your chest as you sharply inhaled. "why is it that whenever i try to tell you i like you, you act like i didn't say anything?" you forced out, watching alhaitham freeze in place.

"what are you talking about?"

"i...years. i tried for years. i finally gave up, and when i tried to date someone, i couldn't even do that. we broke up after a month. i couldn't even consider reconciliation because..."

"because?"

"you're such a dick! because i like you, asshole." you snapped, tears springing to your eyes again as alhaitham crossed the room to stand near you. "i- you...you always just act like nothing happened. it fucking hurts-"

he suddenly gripped your chin, moving closer as he pulled you to meet his gaze. "do you really take my fear as a sign of rejection?"

"uh..yeah?"

alhaitham frowned, dragging his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "for that, i humbly apologize then."

"what are you afraid of anyways?"

"you know how much of a perfectionist i can be." he sighed.

"of course."

"i want to be the best for you."

"but you are good already, and-"

"'good' isn't enough. i don't want to be a subpar filler partner. and i certainly don't wish to be 'the one who could have done more.'"

"i don't understand." you told him, exasperated as he leaned towards you, shifting his thumb to trace your jawline.

"i want to be perfect for you. the only person who sees when i stumble and treats me as a human. not as some machine who can never possibly fail, or as a top student with drive only to knock everyone down."

you were shocked, lips parting in surprise as you listened to his sudden confession.

"i wanted to tell you this whole time." you admitted. "i was scared of rejection. i think...i think i only dated kaveh because i thought you didn't care about me. i thought i had no chance with you."

"your thoughts mirror mine then. i thought i wasn't the man you deserved."

"just...shut up and kiss me already." you blurted, neck and ears heating up as alhaitham turned light pink, leaning in and pressing your lips together nonetheless.

you sighed into the kiss as he tenderly cupped your face, feeling your smile against his lips. when he broke away, he pressed his forehead to yours. "i didn't know you were so demanding."

"only because you made me wait for years."

alhaitham kissed you again, stealing your breath when he swiped his tongue along the seam of your lips, prompting you to open them for him. you let out a soft moan into the kiss, thighs pressing together as alhaitham groaned.

"i think we should stop here."

"what?" you blinked up at him with confusion. "why?"

"you're getting over kaveh. it's understandable, and a common human trait to-"

"i don't think you understand what i said, alhaitham." you reached up to grip his face, hands tangled into his fluffy hair. "i liked you since we were kids. long before i knew kaveh existed. i liked you all year. i liked you when we ate lunch, when we studied at the library, when we argued over exam scores...if anything i guess i'm guilty of using kaveh to get over you."

"kaveh isn't an innocent party either. he uses people as stress relief from his problems."

"well, you caused me a lot of stress you know." you laughed, shaking your head.

"you're guilty for doing the same to me."

"well, lock me up and take me in then, sir." you laughed, slowly easing up when alhaitham stared down at you differently. "what?"

"you're playing with fire. you should be more careful with your words."

"and what if i meant them?" you smirked, leaning up.

"then you should be aware of how i feel." alhaitham pressed himself against you, allowing to feel the hardness straining against his pants.

"archons...please, please i want you."

"you have me."

"you know what i mean." you frowned as alhaitham smirked ever-so-slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

no more than a few minutes later, alhaitham had you leaned up against his chest, in nothing but your undergarments as alhaitham trailed his fingers over your bare skin.

"sensitive." he hummed as his touch left goosebumps, feeling you shiver.

he gently brushed his fingers over your clothed core, your hips moving against his hand to earn more friction as he held your hips down with one hand. "patience."

"alhaitham, please." you whined, feeling him hook his fingers into the waistband and slide the fabric down your legs.

he carefully spread your thighs, dropping the hand to slide through your wetness as you whimpered, shifting on his lap.

he nibbled along the column of your neck, leaving little bites on your skin as you bared your neck to him, gasping as his tongue slid across the expanse.

his fingers began playing with your clit, feeling your hips jump again as you sighed, trying to chase his touch. "oh, alhaitham, that's good-"

he couldn't help but find you cute as he played with your slick, swirling his fingers around your hole as whines of his name spilled from your lips. "come on!"

"be patient." he warned again, lightly smacking your thigh as you huffed. "i have to prepare you properly first."

you felt him ease a finger into your heat, allowing you to fully adjust before adding another and one more after that, curling them into your g-spot as you writhed against his chest. your hands gripped the fabric of his clothes into your fists, shaking and begging for more as he swiped his thumb across your clit, rubbing in circles as you cried out, moving a hand to grip his wrist tightly.

"oh, archons!" you gasped, back arching when you finally came, hole spasming around his digits as he eased you down from your high. "wow." you sighed, leaning back against him to recover as he hummed, reaching down to unbuckle his belt.

"i think that can be considered decent preparation."

"i'd say more than just decent."

"flatterer."

you snorted, suddenly being replaced by a gasp when the head of his cock tapped against your hole.

you glanced down, eyes bulging as you saw his dick against you. "you're huge, oh, archons...my classmates said you were packing but i didn't know this much!"

"your friends talked about my proficiency in bed?"

"classmates, not friends. and anyways, yes, but clearly it helped me for once."

alhaitham laughed softly, shaking his head. "take a deep breath and try to relax for me. just focus on being calm." he slowly pushed inside of you, anchoring you to his chest as he slid you down onto his dick, feeling you tighten around him. "relax, relax, please."

alhaitham bit his lip, shaking his head as he continued to try and bottom out, feeling you shiver and shake in his hold, eyes watering.

"you're doing well. i'm proud of you. just keep breathing."

you whined his name, leaning into him as he kissed across your neck and shoulders, "just be good for me, just stay very still and i will meet your every desire."

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Text

The clockmaker, the crow and the mantis

[contains vulgar language]

SUMMARY: When an infamous assassin breaks into his office, Kaz Brekker is offered a part in a strange scheme. Despite their mutual dislike, the two might yet have a common goal.

(enemies to lovers I guess?)

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.2k

A feeling of a cold breeze brushing against his clothes makes Kaz stop immediately - he hasn't opened the window in weeks. The barely noticeable gust of wind tugs gently at the paperwork in front of him. Flames dance ever so slightly on their wicks. The darkness pooling in the corners of the room, where the candlelight can’t quite reach, seems deeper, more imposing, as though it wasn't the lack of light creating it but something much more alive, much more sinister.

Something moves out of the corner of his eye, bordering realism and phantasm. He gets up quickly, hand gripping the decorative cane that had seen its fair share of blood. Calculated, careful steps lead him to the centre of the room as Kaz studies the shapeless shadows encircling him like an ominous vignette.

His heart picks up its pace. A muffled sound of chatter and laughter reaches his ears from behind the heavy door. Horse hooves clatter against cobblestone, a wooden carriage quietly creeks as it rolls through the streets somewhere outside the building. But not a sound, except his own laboured breathing, comes from inside his office. The air doesn’t smell differently and even his eyes can’t quite discern between malicious darkness and the shadows he’s so used to being surrounded by.

By all accounts, Kaz is alone in his office that couldn’t have been tainted by an intruder. Despite his senses not earning him any useful information, he knows his privacy has been breached. It’s unclear what to call this sensation but it appears only in certain kinds of people - those who have been tried by particular ways of life. Their consciousness as if expands, almost miraculously sensing long knives in the dead of night.

Kaz swings his cane at a rather formless shadow by his side. Just as he expected, the staff comes into contact with something. Right there, where light meets darkness and safety of visibility becomes an impenetrable abyss, tips of gloved fingers appear, holding his cane mid-air. The grip is strong, textbook as if. Foreseen.

"Maybe listen to me first, you knucklehead,” resounds from the darkness.

He has to take a step back as the stranger emerges from the veil of the night, both of them still tightly gripping either side of the cane. The deep hood covers their eyes, making the lower half of their face easily visible. Kaz immediately notices a characteristic, pinkish scar ending about an inch below their right eye. The first button of their long, dark double-breasted coat is left open, revealing a grey shirt with moth-shaped collar pins. There’s so many pouches and pockets attached to their clothes - he couldn’t count them if he tried. Even more, Kaz can’t even begin to guess what they hide. A golden chain of their pocket watch glistens in the dim candlelight as they move forward, pushing Kaz farther back.

There’s only one wraith haunting Ketterdam that fits this description:

"Mantis,” he spits out.

"You know Krolmeister, the old clockmaker?" she asks calmly. Despite their less-than-friendly meeting, the assassin appears hardly bothered. One can only assume she has, in fact, been greeted in much worse ways and if one was to believe the wild legends people tell about her, even after applying a generous grain of salt, she can compete for the Dirtyhands title with him.

"I don't see how he has anything to do with you breaking into my office."

"He's the direct, well, indirect, reason why I'm here but we'll get to this in a moment. Mister Krolmeister has offered me a contract. A contract for you, to be precise.” She pauses for a moment, no doubt studying his demeanour, the reaction for such news. Her own face, however, remains just as unmoved making it impossible to say what she makes of his behaviour. Kaz clenches his jaw, already preparing for a fight with someone he can never measure up to. Part of him isn’t surprised in the slightest - after all, in what other way could the Bastard of the Barrell possibly pass away? Mantis leans offhandedly close to his face and continues in a voice barely above a whisper: “Now, you and I both have heads with more use than just wearing hats, so you're probably wondering what you had done to poor Bernard Krolmeister for him to have you killed. The short answer is nothing but the long answer is a lot more interesting. Care to listen?"

The woman lets go of the cane, giving Kaz a chance to strike her but he only lowers the staff to lean on it once again. He may be proud but he’s not stupid - if she had indeed come to kill him, he would have already been long dead, before his mind could even compute the final blow.

"Do not waste my time. Speak."

If he was trying to appear menacing, he has failed. Mantis casually strolls past him, towards a chair by the desk. She sits down, crosses her legs and only then gives Kaz an explanation: "My expertise on the matter tells me that Krolmesiter is nothing but a proxy, a dummy middle-man to blame if something goes south. Blackmail, probably, but that doesn't matter for now. That scenario suggests that there's someone above him, a puppet master if you will. And that puppet master, whoever they are, has good business in having you gone. Considering those two elements, the proxy and the determination, I'm certain you could accurately guess who's truly behind that contract.”

Kaz can’t help the scowl on his face. Her perplexing audacity, a clear and yet indirect disregard for him, makes the man grip the model crow atop his cane ever tighter. His teeth clatter against one another while Kaz contemplates the nature of a violent act that is bound to take her down a peg. Even after his list reaches double digits in just a few seconds, he knows better than to try anything - not yet, at least.

"You’re just a murder, Mantis, no matter how expensive.”

His words don’t bother the woman as she continues to play with a paperweight on the desk. Her fingers make him wonder for a moment - even when gloved, they’re clearly thin and long, without a sign of heavy labour on them. They move swiftly and elegantly across the figurine, feeling its dips and rises as though she’s trying to remember them. Those are hands of a pianist or a prestidigitator, someone who’s precision borders on a miracle.

She’s not even looking at him. Kaz feels his patience running thin. One can still work as an assassin without a finger or two, no? Without a whole hand, perhaps?

“Why should I believe even a single word of this fairytale built on hypotheticals?" he grits through his teeth.

The gentle movement of her fingers stops abruptly. Finally, Mantis looks away from the brass paperweight. Kaz still can’t see her eyes but he can feel them - there’s something primal about her gaze like a predator studying its prey for any sign of hesitation. Heavy paperweight or not, if he turns his back to her, it might just be the last thing he does.

“True, I am but a humble murderer.” Mantis mockingly puts a hand on her chest and bows her head. “But I’m really fucking good at it, too. I’m not asking for belief. Just trust my reputation.”

Kaz doesn’t answer for a longer while. His eyes bore into the hooded figure sitting in front of him. Disillusioned, he knows she’s doing exactly the same thing. The observation makes him even angrier but for an entirely different reason - perhaps, they are, after all, similar in some way. The restless urge sitting under his skin gets only more urgent. Kaz needs to hit something. Now.

“Why are you telling me all of this? Want me to pay you for telling me someone wants me dead?”

The man scoffs. It’s no news to him - everyday someone tries to get under his skin. Some figuratively, others literally.

"I need you to play dead for the next two days,” she states candidly. “You're silent, so I'm guessing you're interested. If I'm correct, and there's hardly any possibility I'm not, after I tell Bernard that the mighty Kaz Brekker had been dealt with, he's sure to inform a direct messenger between him and the possible blackmailer. I follow him, learn a thing or two and get back to you. And you'll get half of the reward. How's that?"

In slow limps, Kaz narrows the space between them. Mantis is still sitting, making the man tower over her but he knows it’s not much of an advantage. He leans further on his cane moving his face obscenely close to hers. An aroma of rainwater and grease fills his nostrils as he takes in a ragged breath:

"What do you get out of this deal?"

"Aside from like a hundred thousand Kruge? Peace,” she says with a shrug. Mantis looks away for a moment. She puckers her lips, sighs and turns back to him. “I don't like you, Kaz Brekker.” The way her words pierce the tension between them leaves no doubts about their honesty. “Damn, I'd probably open champagne if your head rolled into the gutter.” A light shake of head before she continues. “But you are, I'm afraid, a necessary evil. Say, if you do die, who will take your place on this throne of filth called the Barrel? You're a shitstain but you're tolerable."

To his own surprise, Kaz is speechless. Out of all the things she could ask in return for the information, Mantis only wants the Barrel to not get more problematic than it already is. As strangely kindhearted as it may sound, he continues to have a hard time tolerating her condescending attitude. Kaz Brekker is the king of this steaming pile of shit and to her, he appears to be nothing beyond an over glorified guard dog. Not even an imposing one, it seems.

"Those are some big words for someone who kills to make a living, don't you think?” He tilts his head in a futile attempt to see more of her face. “I suppose it takes a shitstain to know a shitstain."

"As much as both of us hate to admit it, a day has come when we need each other. Anyway, I won't take any more of your time. Places to go, people to kill, you know how it goes.”

Mantis throws her legs over the armrest of the chair and in swift strides makes her way towards the window. Considering her line of business, doors of any kind were prohibited. In a clearly experienced motion, she places a flat metal bar between the window frame and the windowsill, opening her exit in a smooth act. Before she climbs through his window only to disappear like a dream at the break of dawn, Kaz stops her one last time:

"You should be wary. Birds tend to eat praying mantis."

He watches as her lips curve into a cocky smile. "Only if he can catch her."

And with those words, she dives through the window, dissolving into the black night as though it was his fantasy that brought her to life. Kaz stands alone in his office. Nothing about the room has changed, even the brass paperweight is placed exactly as it was before Mantis put her hand on it. In some way, the assassin was never there. Despite her elusive nature, the smell of grease and rain will linger in his nose for a few more days, haunting him like the wraith of Ketterdam she is.

Jesper knows something is wrong the moment he notices Kaz’s bitter expression. Although his boss appears to wear a grimace most of the time, the wrinkle between his eyebrows seems slightly deeper than it did just a few hours ago. He’s clenching his jaw, looking at the people in his club with a patronizing scowl.

"You alright, boss?" he asks when Kaz reaches the bar counter.

But Brekker isn’t fast to answer. He downs the drink Jesper got for himself. Gripping the edge of the counter like his life depends on it, he begins to explain:

"I'm dead, Jesper."

Kaz isn’t funny. Truth be told, he doesn’t seem to have even a speck of a sense of humour. Despite that, Jesper dismisses the notion that his boss could be serious. It sounds ridiculous.

"You look pretty alive to me,” he says in a slow, reluctant tone. Maybe he missed something obvious?

An accusatory index finger makes Jesper unknowingly lean back slightly. "Tell everyone I'm dead, stabbed in my own office. And do it now."

"Hold on, what?” He shakes his head. “Why would you be dead?"

"Just do it, Jesper.” Kaz lets out a defeated sigh. The smart choice just so happens to be the one he hates. “You'll know in due time. All we can do now is wait."

Jesper watches Kaz’s back as he walks back up the stairs into his office. A familiar anxiety blooms in his chest - something big is about to happen and he might just have the front-row seat.

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