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jackiequick · 1 year

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BABY ON BOARD HAS A WHAT-?!

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader/Bob x OC (Nurse Anna)

Other Characters: The Daggers (+ JenPen Mitchell) and a few other background characters

Timeline: Set some time after The Uranium Project

Setting: The Bradshaw Household

It was an delightful Tuesday afternoon, the sun was shining brightly but it was windy and a bit chilly outside. The crew was mostly there expect for Amber who was assigned with a few meetings with her father that day, other than that the Daggers were together at The Bradshaw Mitchell household.

Usually they would be outside on the patio but it was too windy to sit outside today, so they all hang out inside in the connected kitchen and living room area. Fanboy, Phoenix and Payback were fighting over which set of movies watch next on the flat screen Tv while Coyote and Bob was helping Rooster fixing the front windows that seemed to go scratched from week…let’s just say it no more playing inside.

JenPen was putting away groceries that they brought earlier while Hangman was sipping a beer in the kitchen island nearby one of the stools, plugging in everyone phones to charge.

“Hey, what time is Angel coming back home?” Jake asked using Amber’s nickname instead as he glances at his Instagram account.

“Why? You miss your girlfriend?” Jen teased the pilot, grabbing a bite of the freshly washed grapes left on the kitchen counter.

“Wha—No! I mean yeah, of course I do, Miss Bradshaw.”

“Mitchell—Bradshaw, actually. When I do get married, I might keep my last name.”

“Pfff, Bradshaw is too much a chicken to finally find a ring and propose to you.”

“Be nice, you’ll be Uncle Hangman one day you will have to be on your best behavior.”

Jake laughed at the nickname and rolled his eyes, “What you doing this weekend?”

“Uhh, I got to study the metrics for a few planes and might just wash my hair afterwards.” Jen said with a simple shrug and smile.

•

After a while, Coyote and Bob took a break from helping Bradley with the window. Javy went to wash his hands in the kitchen while Bob headed to the bathroom upstairs to wash his face. While Javy was drying off his hands, he heard a light ping coming from the section of phones being charged.

Coyote raised an eyebrow, checking to see who’s phone it was exactly. He flipped though the phones and lightly tapping each other curiously until another message came in. It was Bob’s phone.

You could’ve sworn Javy did a double take as he saw the message, the poor man’s jaw dropped. The message first being a photo dump of the beautifully made sky outside and the new message said ‘Hey darling! How are you?💘’

“Huh?” Javy muttered, he tries not to be curious about his friends business because everyone tends to be somewhat open with a lot of things. But this caught his eyes since he never heard of Bob Floyd having a lady. He read the caller ID and continued, “Who’s Nurse Anna?!”

Javy’s yell caught everyone in the room’s attention, all faces whipped around towards the tall man in confusion. Everyone expect Phoenix who was sorta listening but too busy texting Lieutenant Magnet Kenner about god knows what. Rooster was sitting next to his girlfriend messaging her tired shoulders as he asked, “Uh, what?”

“Who’s Nurse Anna?!” Coyote repeated again as if it was obvious the first time he questioned the name.

“Uh context please, pal..” Said Payback turning his head from the couch to look at him.

“I was drying my hands after helping Roo with the windows and I heard a ping coming from one of the phones. So I went to check who’s phone it was and guess who’s phone it was?”

“Who’s?”

“Bob’s!”

“Relax, it’s probably a friend of his from work.”

“A friend? Oh really?! A friend who’s a nurse…?”

“Uhh yeah…”

Fanboy stood up from the flooring in the living room to see the messenger ID on Bob’s phone lock-screen. Later on another message popped up from Nurse Anna saying 'Change of plans I might not be free Friday but we can definitely do Saturday instead 💞'.

Mickey smiled and let out a small chuckle reading it out loud, “Uhh I don’t know Ruben, the contact on the ID says Nurse Anna with a blue heart emoji! She called him ‘Darling’ in the two messages she sent to Bob. She asked about meeting up on Saturday and added a few love emojis too! I don’t think it’s a normal friend from work kinda thing…”

Coyote joked, “What? You think they’re just hooking up?! Like a causal hook up? Gahhhh no, that’s not Bob’s thing, last time I checked.”

The trio kept arguing on who is this Nurse Anna girl was and acting like they were trying to decipher a mystery case. JenPen added in a few jokes about how ridiculous they were acting, however she was just as curious about it all.

Hangman thought it was just a casual weekly hook up between the their friend and some pretty girl or something. The loudly voiced conversation kept going on for more than two minutes as all the Daggers expect Phoenix, who was just watching all of them discuss the matter at hand.

Little did they all know Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd was upstairs, standing in the hallway near the staircase hearing everyone, trying his hardest not to laugh.

•

Rooster eyebrows bounced motion and laughed as he exclaimed, “Damn! Well it looks to me that our WSO has himself a little girlfriend.”

Hangman was sipping his second beer as his mind was clearly in space. Soon enough his eyebrows popped up and he almost spit out his drink coughing, “BABY ON BOARD HAS A WHAT—?!”

“Awww he fell for a nurse.” Jen says in pure awe how Bob was probably in love, leaning into Bradley’s warm touch on her shoulders.

“I’m still on the part where Bradshaw said GIRLFRIEND!” Hangman said chuckling and coughing a bit.

“I think it’s cute.” Fanboy replies with a smile, “And she sounds super sweet!”

•

The conversation contained so much energy and no one noticed that Bob was gone, since they more focused on the mysterious lady.

Fanboy thinks she’s blonde with green eyes, Hangman thinks she’s gotta be a redhead with green eyes, Ruben believed she was a nurse on base for the longest time, JenPen guessed that she must’ve been one of the most talented nurses in school and Coyote had a gut feeling Bob met her months before they all returned to Top Gun for that mission.

Rooster was curious as he stated his questions to the group, “Who can she be? I never heard a nurse named Anna...or so I think?”

“I bet she’s hot! Like super hot!” Hangman said grinning as Coyotes chuckles slapping his shoulder mutter for him to shut up.

Ruben turned to Phoenix smiling, “Your awfully quiet, anything you’ll like to share with the class?”

Phoenix looked up from her phone confused, “What do you mean? Just because Bob and I fly together doesn’t mean I know everything about ‘em, he probably met her one day before we all met at the bar or something. Last time I checked nurses need a night off to have fun too.”

“Your sure about that? Phoenix you fly and eat together, you share teaching tips together. Also you guys even shared a life or death experience together with all of us. I feel like you know something!”

“Well I-”

Suddenly they all heard footsteps and the room went silent, some of them noticing their teammate walking into the living room. They all waited and looked around as if they were just caught in the act of a horrible prank.

•

“Phoenix doesn’t know because she was passed out in a hospital bed in another room, when it happened.” Said the voice of the man who’s phone started all of this with a soft smile. Bob stood there leaning against the wall fixing his glasses and trying not to laugh at their faces. Especially Natasha’s confused one.

Everyone turned to Bob in shock and motioned for him to continue. He said, “Well, after the whole bird strike that went down that same day, Phoenix and I was sent the to the med bay, when I met her. I woke up, less than half an hour after it happened, doctors came and checked on me. Then Anna walked in…she came in with extra blankets and check on my IV, to see if I needed anything…”

“And?” Phoenix asked, waving her hand gently as if to cue in that she wanted more information about this.

“She was pretty. I didn’t have my glasses on and I've just woken up with a headache, so my vision I was still slightly blurry, but I could tell she was absolutely stunning dressed in her blue scrubs and her brown hair that was in a ponytail…and she was very kind.”

Hangman smiled, “That’s her job, Bob, to be kind and treat patients well, for they can try and get better.”

Rooster looked up glaring at his blonde savior, “Who’s telling the story? Him or you?”

“Him duh!”

“Then let him tell it, Bagman!”

“Yikes..sorry, Floyd continues please, she sounds pretty nice.”

Bob smiled laughing softly and continued, “Because she is! Gentle and passionate too. She stayed with me for a while, asked how I was doing at the moment and what is my job in the Navy. Uh, eventually we started talking about movies and music, and then before she left to go see other patients..I asked her out, telling her once I got out the hospital and could be finished with our missions, I would like to take her to a nice restaurant…”

JenPen smiled listening as she heard Fanboy asking, “She called you darling? How long have you two been going out?”

“Oh no! She calls every single one of her patients darling or dear but for me darling just stuck I guess. I call her doll or honey, sometimes sweetie.” Bob said the last few nicknames with a laced dreamy smile as if thinking about his lady.

“You didn’t answer Fanboy’s questions though! How long?! I gotta—” JenPen asked but was cut off with a hand covering her mouth.

Rooster had his hand covering his girlfriend’s mouth snickering and looked up at Bob smiling, “Go on. She’s quiet now.”

Once again Bob laughed shaking his head and went on explaining, “We’ve only being seeing each other for 8 weeks more or less, with our busy schedules and all. I wanted to keep our relationship a secret for a while. You know, just the two of you and see where it goes."

Coyote rubbed the back of his neck chuckling awkwardly, "And I let it slip..I'm sorry man, I didn't know and you know I can get a little nuts sometimes."

"It's perfectly fine, I was expecting for you guys to find out eventually this month or so. Actually glad it wasn't Jake."

Hangman looked up with his eyes widen offended and gasped somewhat loudly, "WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN-?!"

"You would've texted Javy! Better yet, you would've called Amber then she would've told the all ladies!"

"I wasn't going to do that!"

"Oh really?"

Bob pointed to the iPhone in Jake's hand brightly lit as his fingers were on paused. Robert asked, "Who were you texting, Hangman?"

"No one." Jake exclaimed quickly, closing the messages that he was sending to his girlfriend and throws his phone on the couch. Everyone's eyes darted to the iPhone that showed messages from Amber popping up like crazy.

"You were saying.."

"Shit."

All the group could do was laugh and roll they’re eyes at this point from seeing the scene play out. Truly none of them were sad or annoyed Bob for keeping such a darling secret, it’s his life and he should be able to keep such good things to himself, of course when JenPen and Bradley did say that when Bob and his lady were ready they would love to meet her one day. Bob appreciated the welcoming ideas and support he’s getting as he went on to actually reply to Nurse Anna’s text messages knowing she might be busy but 100% checking her phone waiting for a reply soon.

Coyote kept apologizing for spoiling that little surprise even though no one was really mad at him or anything, as Fanboy and Payback sending all the good thing to their teammate’s way. As for Phoenix, she was very much happy but a little disappointed in herself for not finding out sooner or at least pick up the clues firsthand.

If your wondering about Hangman, he left the gang early to pick up his lady and well this happened…

Jake sat in the car, opening the door seeing Amber as he grinned like an idiot bursting to tell her everything that happened today. And once Amber climbed into her seat grinning and buckled in her seatbelt she said, “Ok, oh my god. Tell me everything!”

“Yes!” Jake shouted as he buckled in his own seatbelt, “Baby on board has a girlfriend! I was like ‘What? That’s crazy?!’ I didn’t believe it, but from what I heard she’s really pretty cute and she’s a nurse.”

“Ugh! Why is it that the day I have to work, is that day all the good things happen? Let me guess, you found out!”

Hangman snickered, “Nope!”

“Then who?”

“Coyote.”

“What?!” Amber gasp laughing.

Let’s just say the rest of the ride home was full of gossip and laughter from that one single car. The rest of day went as follows, Coyote and Payback went out to keep helping Rooster with the broken window, Fanboy and Bob chatting about their day and future relationships, while Phoenix and JenPen were ordering stuff on Amazon as they fixed up a few things around the house.

Thank you for reading this story and I really hope you liked it! 💙

Tags: @t-nd-rfoot @gaminggirlsstuff @theloveoftoms @rooster-84 @happilycameron @mandylove1000 @topgun-imagines @levijeanqueen @drspencereidhotch @fanboygarcia @starkleila @msrochelleromanofffelton @gcthvile and etc

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so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site · 8 months

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Do you think we're supposed to think anything of foxglove's gay bodyguard in "time of your life" being secretly named endymion after a male lover of Hypnos, the god of sleep, or nah

Okay, so I had to do some quick googling because the only Endymion story I'd known was the one where he was lovers with Selene (the moon). After reading some mythological summaries, I do think it was an intentional reference, but probably mostly to Gaiman's research he did when writing the series.

As it turns out there's a lot of different conflicting myths about Endymion and it might be that there was more than one character with the same name, but the stories all share general similarities and themes with what turns up in The Sandman.

The one that I knew of, with Selene and Endymion, was where he was either a shepherd or astronomer who fell in love with the personification of the moon. However, love between a mortal and immortal being at best temporary by nature, Selene asked Zeus to grant him immortality. The best Zeus agreed to was eternal sleep, and thus Endymion was put into eternal ageless sleep under Selene's care. They still had 50 kids after that because, apparently, the Greek gods don't care about men's consent either.

Then apparently there's one where he's the lover of Hypnos rather than Selene. I couldn't find as much about this version at first glance but it seems to go pretty much the same as the Selene version? Minus the 50 kids, obviously. Morpheus seems to be a mythological mashup of Hypnos and Apollo in the Greek pantheon in the Sandman universe; while the Apollo connection is the more obvious one since it's directly mentioned in the text by Augustus Caesar and he's the father of Orpheus, he apparently gets his status as son of Night and brother of Death from Hypnos.

And a third variant is that Endymion was a king who had Zeus grant him the gift of choosing when to die.

So yeah, the themes of doomed love, issues between mortals and immortals, cursed wishes, and the choice of if/when to die are all pretty significant in The Sandman. So I think, if Neil chose the name for any particular purpose, it was probably a reference to all those elements.

#asks #asks answered #anon #the sandman #the sandman meta #mythology #greek mythology #endymion #thanks for this one it was fun to do some different reading!

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novelmonger · 1 year

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Book Review: The Unlikely Escape of Uriah Heep by H.G. Parry

The quote that should have been on the back of the book: "'Uriah Heep's loose on the ninth floor,' he said. 'And I can't catch him.' My brain was fogged with sleep; it took a moment for his words to filter through. 'Seriously, Charley?' I said when they did. 'Again?'"

Premise: Rob Sutherland, a lawyer in Wellington, New Zealand, has a younger brother, Charley, who is an English professor at the university. His brother, a literary prodigy, has the peculiar and often alarming ability to read objects - or characters - out of books. This causes lots of problems, as you might expect, especially because they're trying to keep this ability secret from the world. But things start to go especially crazy when Charley reads Uriah Heep out of David Copperfield, and he hints at a "new world" that is fast approaching....

Thoughts: I. Love. This. Book. Seriously, if that premise alone isn't enough to make you want to pick up the book and read it for yourself, I don't know what's wrong with you.

At first glance, this book might sound a bit like Inkheart, and while there are certainly similarities when it comes to reading characters and things into reality, it has a very different feel. Yes, both are stories about stories, about the power of really connecting to a book you're reading until what's happening on the page is as real as the world around you. Both are about villains trying to take advantage of this power, book characters trying to make a life for themselves in the real world, and the chaotic rush to stop the world from being overrun with the worst horrors books hold. But I guess I would say that The Unlikely Escape of Uriah Heep feels a lot more grown-up. Not to say that it's boring by any means; there's still a lot of beauty and whimsy and wonder. But it deals not just with accidentally reading stuff out of a book or the power of a good story well told. It also deals with how every single reader will have a slightly different interpretation and imagination of a character, some more nuanced than others. It deals with what it means to be a person. What it means to be a family. What it means to have a life. It makes absolute sense to me that the main characters are a lawyer and a university professor, rather than a twelve-year-old girl and an itinerant bookbinder.

Of course, one of the main draws to this story is all the wonderful literary references. These are mostly from British literature, particularly Victorian literature, which meant that I was familiar with (or at least could easily identify) most of the characters you end up meeting. These include Sherlock Holmes, Mr. Darcy, Dorian Gray, the Artful Dodger, Matilda, the White Witch, Dr. Frankenstein, Dracula, Miss Matty, the Scarlet Pimpernel...I'm probably forgetting somebody else super obvious, there's just so many of them! Even for the ones whose stories I haven't read, like Uriah Heep, it's not vital to the main plot to understand what they're about. Rob isn't familiar with all of their stories either, and so gets any necessary explanations from Charley, usually.

I adore any story that praises the power of stories. Of course I do. And this one makes it so clear how powerful they are, how comforting and edifying and exhilarating the written word can be. But even more, I love that this is first and foremost a story about brothers. I'm a sucker for those kinds of stories on the best of days, and so this book got me hook, line, and sinker from page 15 when Rob says, "I would do anything--I would kill the whole world--to keep him from being scared or hurt." a;ldkfjsd;kfljsd;fklj YES PLEASE.

Not once did I have to worry that the brothers' relationship would fall to the wayside for the sake of the plot. The story opens with Charley calling Rob for help in the middle of the night, and the entire story revolves around these two helping each other, fighting with each other, saving each other, pulling each other down and then dragging them back up again...it's everything. Their bond is the bedrock of this story, and I can't get enough of it. The bio in the back says that H.G. Parry has a sister, and I have a hunch that they must be really close. You can tell that she knows what it's like :')

There were so many quotes, especially in the climax, that I wanted to scream from the rooftops (and instead just sobbed quietly in my room as I ugly-cried my way through the ending). They were all so simple that, out of context, they wouldn't seem that remarkable. "I don't care" "I still want him back." "You're my brother." "I know you."

Or this quote from Sherlock Holmes: "Your brother thinks you the best and wisest man in this world. As I said, emotions are antagonistic to clear reasoning." Which is just a;lkjg;dslkgj;sdklgjds;afkj I CAN'T IT HURTS IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE HOLMES AND WATSON AND ROB AND CHARLEY AND AAAAAAHHHHHHH TT_______TT al;kdfgjas;dglkjsd;flkjds;klfj

In conclusion: If you love a good book, if you have ever found yourself sucked into a story till it felt more real than reality, you need to read this book.

#book thoughts #the unlikely escape of uriah heep #hg parry #the power of stories #brotherly love #i'm slowly reading my way through dickens #and now i don't know what i'm going to do with myself when i get to david copperfield ._.

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slasherwife · 3 years

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S/o pampering the slashers + Vincent , they come home and the s/o prepared a bath and cook them dinner.

Y/n Spoiling Their Slasher

Ooh funn! Sometimes these poor bois need extra love 🥺💞

Thomas:

- He would be a flustered baby from the beginning🥺

- He would feel bad that you’re doing this stuff for him and would feel a bit awkward since he’s so used to being the provider, that he wouldn’t really know how to act 🌼

- He clings to you for guidance, because being so relaxed and spoiled like this feels like a crime to him. And that breaks my heart.

- You end up being the mother hen, coaxing him and cooing at him as he looks up at you as if you're an angel. He'll lower himself into the bath and hold onto your hand, falling into a pit of pure love for you. You are literally his angel and you are GLOWING in his eyes💕

- when you give him a special dinner, he eats it happily and offers to share almost everything with you. It's like he's mostly concerned with what's on your plate instead of his, glancing over and making sure you're enjoying yourself. He can't help it though, it's completely second nature to him 💫💖

He is still hesitant to let himself be comfortable because he has literally never had anything like this ever in his life. He still looks to you for guidance and you tell him that you won't make him do anything he's not comfortable with.

- You both end the night with him clinging to you, buried his face in your stomach with his arms wrapped around your hips. He repeats in his mind that he doesn't deserve an angel like you until he falls asleep, dreaming about you. This boy is lovesick. 💕

Jason

- Jason would just full on melt. He already knew how kind and loving you could be, and honestly isn't too surprised that you would do this. He nevertheless of course, puts his masked-face on your temple in the form of a kiss, and strokes your ear as a thank you💗

- Big boy doesn't waste a minute, he's stripped and ready to dive in. He definitely did NOT expect you to come over there and help him wash. Unsurprisingly he got bashful and looked away as you lovingly scratched his shoulders and unknotted his huge biceps and neck. He ends up going slack in the tub from how good it feels. 😊

- His eyes don't leave you most of the time. He looks away bashfully when you glance at him or smile at him, and his heart is just a fluttery mess at you. When you courteously look away when he steps out of the bath, you direct him to a big meal you made <3

- He has no idea where to start he is a trainwreck at just eating a mf meal. You smile encouragingly at him as he delicately uses his fork (which looks like a toothpick in his hands) and eats like he's at the queen's reception ceremony. He is SO polite. Uses a napkin and everything.

- I canon that he was ALWAYS hungry pre-zombie phase, and could literally eat 5 horses in one sitting (a weird visual but--) he signs to you asking what you were going to eat, and will literally fight with you about you taking his plate if you haven't eaten yet. 💖😤

- hes a babe

Michael

- this bitch. you already know bae.

- He would refuse the bath because he finds it weird that he would bathe in a bath you made him (im confused too dw) He will stand there, his 7 ft tall ass, shaking his head at you no.

- you somehow end up getting in the bath with him because that was the only chance he would take the bath-- with you literally stuck to him as he drags you around like a pool noodle 🥲

- he might initiate funky time but probably not. he just wants to be clean tbh. He spends the entire bath time smelling your hair as he doesn't allow you to move for a good 10 minutes. He strokes your neck though which is nice 💖

- after you guys both leave the bath, he is still carrying you like a purse, but lets you at least put on a towel so you're not sitting naked at the dinner table.

- He's really touchy tonight, and it's mostly because he's filled to the rim with love for you. 💗He expresses it with roughhousing though and handling you like a ragdoll. He does NOT mean to hurt you though and will be gentle if you tell him to cut it out.

- He eats absolutely everything on his plate gratefully, again, doesn't express it in the most civil way, but he appreciates it (surprisingly). He actually might eat from your plate, you can't tell me this 7 ft giant doesn't run on five rotisserie chickens a day.

Bo Sinclair

- I literally didn't even want to write for this dude. He is an asshole. But he's a hot asshole with daddy vibes so here we are 😤💗

- I would never expect Bo to worship you in return for you doing this for him. There are some things he will boast and tease you about being a swoon for him, being obsessed over him and whatnot~~~ But stuff like this is a little too much for that. It almost touches him. Almost💘

- He initially just doesn't know what to say. He loves you, that’s obvious. So he doesn't want to hurt your feelings by saying the wrong thing (which he does ALL THE TIME) so he's going to be uncharacteristically non hyper-verbal

- When you tell him you have a bath running for him upstairs, he'll think you're joking at first. When it becomes obvious that you're not, you lead him to it, and he looks at you when you're not looking and there's a slight of affection in them🌼

- He offers to share the bath with you, with a glint in his eye and that velvety smooth tone of his. This makes you blush furiously and become shy, which eggs him on. It’s completely up to you though, heh, because this will in fact lead to the sex

- afterwards he may drag you over to the bed to sleep~~~ until you tell him you have dinner waiting for him, and he is a fucking s l u t for food after funky time ✨

- now here he definitely teases you. “you’re practically worshipping me, doll. how am I supposed to treat you now?” What we’re you expecting? but internally he’s bursting at the seams and he’s very touched. 💖Probably to the point where he’s uncomfortable and will either be very quiet (he has no idea what to say) or he’ll tease the shit out of you as a coping mechanism.

- he eats like a normal person unlike everyone else here (and maybe Vincent) going on about his day where you listen patiently with a smile on your face ☺️

- Then when in bed, with his back facing you, he’ll very quietly thank you for doing this for him, because Lord knows he needed it. He’s very thankful 💖

Vincent Sinclair

- all signs of responsiveness is cut. I mean, he’s the tiniest bit of smug if I’m raw honest. He was the golden child out of the two when he was younger and even if Bo is top dog in Ambrose, the feeling of deserving more than he does is still there. Which he DOES 😭💖

- He’s in absolutely no way like Bo. Bo is a smug ass who doesn’t listen to anyone (who we stan btw), but he’s still touched to the core.💖 You didn’t need to do this, you wanted to

- he knew he was worthy of being loved. He knew Bo wasn’t going to hold him down forever. he’s felt he needed this for the longest time. He wants to beat Bo; ~~~

- and when the prettiest, sweetest angel is at his feet pampering him, he just knows how jealous Bo is. 💘😭 Anyway SORRY I’m rambling~~ I feel like Vinny would be too scared to go into the bath himself and would have you sit on a stool beside him.

- he’ll be signing to you the entire time he’s in the bath~~ about anything and everything. He’s just so emotionally connected to you, he can’t help but spill his thoughts 🥺

- you both would eat your dinner in his room, probably on his bed as you share ideas about sculpting and life Bring a laptop so y’all can watch Netflix together ✨

- he’d want to make love to you after but that depends on how shy he’s feeling. It would probably be gentle and devoid of much lust, only love🥺💓

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lilxberry · 3 years

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Cap Doesn’t Like Bullies - Steve Rogers

Synopsis;

Your daughter meets her biggest hero to which you’re completely oblivious to the fact during the entire encounter. Her confidence certainly didn’t waver like you had expected it would of a child meeting someone such as Captain America.

Bruh I’m in love with him. LOOK AT HIS FACE!

Warnings: FLUFF! Rude ass stranger. A lil bit o’ language. A sassy child.

Words: 3,305

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader (female reader) (single mom!reader)

(A/N: I named the daughter Kira but you can happily change it. It’s just a name I can easily associate with a child for some reason lmao.)

(A/N 2: I fixed as many mistakes I could find and hopefully, it’ll be more bearable to read lmao.)

Chapter 2 >

_______________

“Mommy,” Kira, your little girl whined.

“Yes baby?” You swung your conjoined hands widely causing her to giggle which in turn, made you smile.

“Can we go to the park today?” Her Captain America backpack bounced on her shoulders with each step. The mostly blue bag clashed yet also complimented the very pink, puffy coat that she wore.

You looked down at her with a raised eyebrow as you watched her for a reaction. “Really? In this weather?”

Kira threw her head back and groaned before exasperatingly replying as if it were the most obvious thing she could have ever spoken. “YES! If we’re at the park, I’ll want to run around and running around will keep me warm. It’s always cold at home but you won’t let me run around.”

A smart little drama queen.

You desperately tried to hide your amusement because you know if she senses that you hadn’t taken her seriously, even more dramatics would be added. “That’s because we can’t run around inside. We might-“

“We might break something. I KNOW! Ugh…” Her feet drag slightly as she walks. She huffs and lowers her head, watching her feet as you move along the sidewalk. You smirk ever so slightly as you watch the top of her head which adorned a woolly hat in an attempt to keep her warm in the season of winter.

“We can go to the park-“ She perked up instantly with a gasp, looking up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. “ONLY, and only, if we can get burgers, too.”

She pauses her steps and looks up at you with a stern, serious expression as she thrusts her hand forward, prompting you to take a hold of it. “You’ve got yourself a deal!” Kira shook your hand firmly and rapidly before she began to pull you along in the direction of the park that was honestly too cold to be sat in.

You huffed a chuckle as you allowed your 6 year old to pull you along the pavements and closer to the large open space of the park.

_______________

The inside of the small Brooklyn burger joint was certainly warmer than the harsh weather that lashed at your face and every inch of exposed skin at the park. Your daughters face matched her coat in colour by the time you reached the building.

Waiting in line, your daughter wormed her hands out of the sparkly knitted gloves, stuffing them in her coat pocket before tearing her hat off of her head and stuffing that in the other available pocket. You chuckled as she tried to brush the mess of locks down with her hands and the cheesy grin she flashed you only made your laugh more.

The missing baby tooth at the forefront of her mouth adding a funny effect to the adorable face you had the tendency to squish between your hands tenderly.

The person in front of the two of you had just finished ordering and just as you were about to step forward with your daughter at your side, someone had rudely pushed in front of you, effectively cutting you off.

You scoffed at the sheer audacity this man had in believing he could cut the line, but it was your daughter who spoke up. Sometimes you cursed yourself for teaching her to stand up for herself in situations as these. You forget your daughter has a vote of confidence like no other and will speak her mind, even if the person is nearly 4 times her height.

Of course, these lessons were meant for her to deal with people her size and age, fellow students who bully her or others, seeing as she’s only 6, not for grown ass adult males.

“Cutting is rude. You should wait in line like everybody else mister.” You heard the pissed tone she spoke with and couldn’t decide whether to find it adorable, humorous, or concerning.

You heard the man scoff and honestly, your blood began to boil. He turned towards the two of you and looked you up and down as if scrutinising you before peering down at your daughter with disinterest.

“I’m ordering for one, you’re ordering for two. I haven’t got time to wait for mama bear to order with her equally scruffy little cub.” He rolled his eyes and looked towards the employee who honestly, looked just about as pissed as you did.

You clenched your fist and took a deep breath in the hopes of calming down. Honestly, it hadn’t worked well. “If you’d asked nicely, we would have happily let you order before us. There isn’t any need to be rude, especially to my kid.”

He heaved a deep sigh before turning to look at the two of you once more. He opened his mouth to no doubt retort back with yet another rude remark but someone elses’ voice swiftly cut him off. “I believe you should listen to the young lady and wait your turn like everybody else.”

The stranger, mighty handsome stranger you might add, with beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair smiled down at your daughter and sent her a discreet wink. She beamed up at the tall stranger as he turned to look towards the man who had rudely cut you off in line, his features hardening.

“You should apologise and move yourself to the back of the line. What you’ve said was unacceptable and certainly no way to speak to a woman and her child.” He folded his arms over his chest, his muscles, even though hidden behind the material of his long sleeves, bulged with incredible size.

The man that had cut the line looked up at your saviour and gulped but relatively kept his features schooled. “No chance. I only said what’s true. Why should I be punished because of that?”

The stranger chuckled humourlessly as he stepped forward, the incredibly rude man taking a step back out of fear. “Whether what you said was true or false, which was absolutely false, doesn’t matter. You disrespected another in not only speaking to them as if they’re below you, but by simply cutting in line in the first place.”

“Yeah. You’re just a bully. Bullies are rude and always cut in line,” your daughter chirped with pride. The stranger smiled down at your daughter and nodded his head.

“That’s right, sweetie.”

The man scoffed before turning towards the employee stood behind the counter. “Are you really going to let him speak to a paying customer like that?” he asked incredulously.

The employee had a smirk cross her lips and she popped her hip out before folding her arms in front of her. “You haven’t paid for anything. Now, please leave before I get my manager to call the cops to have you removed.”

The man huffed indignantly before grumbling and stomping pass the handsome stranger, shoulder checking him on the way. The stranger rolled his eyes before catching a hold of the mans’ arm and pulling him back slightly. “You still haven’t apologised.”

“Sorry.” His tone was fake and nothing but sarcastic but nonetheless, the stranger released him, probably knowing that was the best apology they should expect from him.

The small interior of the place slowly bustled back to its quiet chatter of the few customers inside. The stranger smiled down towards the two of you and you couldn’t help but be enraptured with how perfect his smile was.

“Are you ladies alright?”

Your daughter rapidly nodded her head, grinning widely once more. “Sure are mister. Thank you!”

You cleared your throat, shaking yourself out of your reverie and smiling up at him. ‘Stop gawking at him, idiot!’

“Uh, yes. Thank you.”

His smile seemed to widen, and he looked quite bashful and oh god, your stomach did flips when looking at him. “It’s nothing, ma’am. I don’t tolerate bullies, I suppose.”

Kira gasped and her eyes lit up. “Like Captain America! The Cap doesn’t like bullies, either!”

The stranger chuckled and lowered himself to your daughters’ height. “Yep, like Captain America.” Honestly, he seemed almost pleased at the connection, but you couldn’t place why. Although, if you were say compared to someone like Black Widow, you certainly would feel chuffed yourself, so you couldn’t blame him.

You failed to realise you were staring at the stranger, again, until you felt a small tug on your arm. You snapped yourself out of small daydream to look down at your daughter. “Ask him if he wants to join us,” she whispered although by the huff of laughter that he tried, and failed, to supress, he clearly heard.

“Uh, yeah. Would you like to join us…?” You trailed off, hoping the stranger would give you his name. He seemed to pick up on his lack of introduction as he stood to his full height, once again towering over you.

He held his hand out before him for you to take, which you did. “Steve.”

“Well, would you like to join us, Steve? We’d like to thank you for standing up to that rude man and pay for your meal if you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Well, that’s a really nice offer…” Now it was his turn to trail off.

“Y/N!” your daughter exclaimed loudly. “And I’m Kira!”

He chuckled. “Y/N. And Kira. But I was actually going to offer to pay for your meals.”

“Oh, no. That’s oka-“

“Thank you, Steve!”

You looked down at your daughter with wide eyes as she cut you off and accepted the strangers’ offer. Steve chuckled and glanced down at Kira. “Very well. Should we order then?”

Kira grasped your hand in her smaller one and pulled you to the front of the counter, beckoning Steve to follow. You couldn’t help but shake your head, feeling only ever so slightly embarrassed by your daughters’ antics.

_______________

You daughter was enthralled with whatever came out of Steves’ mouth; completely enraptured with the stories he told. Though, you couldn’t really blame her.

Kira wasn’t one to shy away from conversation, but it had honestly shocked you how versed she became in conversation with the man the two of you had only met 45 minutes prior.

Yes. 45 minutes.

It seemed none of you really wanted to part ways; all enjoying yourselves with flowing conversation and shared smiles.

“So,” Steve started, his arms resting on top of the table that sat between him and you and Kira. “You mentioned Captain America earlier, and you have him on your backpack. Do you like him?”

“Yeah! He’s my favourite hero!” Gosh did she get excited over the topic of heroes.

He chuckled. “And why’s that?”

You rolled your eyes knowing what was coming yet couldn’t stop the fond smile growing on your face. “Well, he’s super cool. He’s brave, kind, strong and he doesn’t like bullies. I don’t like bullies either.” Then, a devilish smile broke out on her small, rounded face. “Mommy likes him too. She thinks he’s pretty. AND SHE HASN’T EVEN SEEN HIS FACE PROPERLY! She’s seen his butt though, looks at it a lot.”

Your eyes widened and the smile was promptly wiped from your face whilst Steve seemingly choked on his spit and laughed nervously. “I think she’s in love with him,” Kira whispered, further embarrassing you.

“OKAY! That’s enough, ha…”

Steve smiled, albeit sheepishly, towards the two of you. “Well, I believe Captain America would think your moms’ pretty, too.”

Kira shrug, shovelling a cold, left over fry from the basket into her mouth. “I know.”

You groaned softly and hid your face behind your hand, slumping in your seat. Your whole face felt hot. Trying to calm your racing heart, you peered at Kira. “Why don’t you tell him about your birthday sweetie?”

“OH YEAH! Mommies taking me to the Captain America display!” Kira bounced in her seat and if her eyes hadn’t already twinkled with excitement, they certainly did now after she’s formulated a plan quickly in her mind. “You should definitely come, mister.”

You and Steve both spluttered at her invitation.

“Oh honey, I don’t think Steve would-“

“W-well, it’s not up to me-“

Kira groaned and rolled her eyes overdramatically before looking at Steve. “Yep. It’s up to me.” She then turned towards you. “And, we can just ask Steve if he would like to.” To which she faced Steve once more, looking at him intently. “Would you like to come too?”

Steve looked extremely apprehensive to answer and looked towards you in the hopes of getting some guidance in what to say. If he were being honest, this past hour he’d felt nothing but calm and happy, forgetting his worries and has actually taken a break from all the responsibilities he’s been handed.

He very much liked both yourself and Kira, feeling content in both of your presences’ and would very much like if he continued to get to know both yourself and Kira more. He just certainly didn’t want to overstep.

He internally cheered for himself when you nodded your head discreetly. Your face told him that the young girl who looked extremely hopeful would certainly not cease until she succeeded in getting what she wanted in this moment.

“Uh…” He turned his gaze towards Kira once more gave her a small smile. “I would love to go to the Captain America display for your birthday.”

Kira cheered loudly and you shook your head with an adoring smile directed to the young girl sat beside you. “Great! You should give your number to my mommy so we can plan it properly.” She sipped on her half-drunken refill of milkshake after speaking so nonchalantly.

Both Steve and yourself felt and looked dumbfounded. Had she really just said that?

Steve chuckled before his eyes darted down towards your phone which was sat face down atop the table. “May I?”

“Oh, uh, yep.” You fumbled with picking your phone up, unlocking it and opening up a new contact before handing your phone over to Steve, face burning and a shy smile adorning your features. Your hands brushed against one another as he carefully took the phone from your hold and typed in his full name and phone number.

He was just about to hand it back to you when Kira swiftly took it and looked at the screen. She shook her head before looking up at Steve. “You gotta add a picture, silly.” She raised the phone after tapping the picture icon atop the contact, pointing it straight at Steve.

The poor man panicked and smiled quite awkwardly as your daughter snapped the photo. You slapped a hand over your mouth to try desperately hide your laugh, which hadn’t really been that successful.

Kira observed the picture on the screen before nodding; she clearly found the picture acceptable for use. Steve couldn’t help but also find it quite amusing and chuckled himself. Your daughter swiftly handed you your phone back but once in your hand, you had spotted the time and your eyes slightly widened.

“Oh wow, is it really that late?” you questioned yourself but prompted Steve to check the time himself by looking down at his watch. You looked up towards him with an apologetic smile and shrugged your shoulders. “Sorry, we really should get going. Kira has school in the morning.”

Steve shook his head and smiled, unbothered by your information. “No, no, it’s perfectly fine. I completely understand.”

“Thank you, and sorry again.” You looked sheepish as you stood and put your own jacket back on before beckoning Kira to stand herself. She pouted but did as she was told, allowing you to help her with her coat, to which she then put her hat back on top her head and gloves back on her small hands.

Steve stood and cleared his throat as he stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. You looked up away from Kira and sent him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen upon someone’s face and miraculously, he felt a lot let nervous.

“Thank you for the wonderful company and the meal,” you spoke with such sincerity that made his heart thump louder and harder than any life threating mission ever could.

“And for standing up to that bully for us,” Kira added.

You huffed laugh. “Yes, and that.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He nodded his head.

Kira stepped forward which prompted Steve to lower himself to her height just as he had done so earlier. “It was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too, ma’am.”

She beamed up at him before sticking her hand out and her expression was nothing but serious, one which Steve copied as he took her hand and shook it. “My mommy will text you later about my birthday.” She withdrew her hand before her big, bright smile reappeared. She grasped your hand in hers and waved as she began to pull you out of the burger joint.

“Bye Captain America!”

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets comically and you did nothing but splutter, opening and closing your mouth in the hopes that some words would pass out of you as your daughter pulled you out through the doors and in the direction of your small Brooklyn apartment.

Steve froze and watched wide eyed as you both left through the door, the bell atop jingling when it closed behind you. “Huh. Smart kid.” He shook his head before laughing and standing, collecting his jacket and leaving a tip on the table before slowly exiting the building himself, walking towards his bike ready to head back to the tower, completely dazed and the image of you ingrained into his mind.

Meanwhile, you finally snapped out of your shocked and flustered state halfway down the sidewalk. “YOU KNEW THAT WAS CAPTAIN AMERICA?!”

“Yep,” your daughter replied, popping the ‘P’ and acting completely nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

“AND YOU TOLD HIM I LIKE HIS BUTT?!”

“Yep.”

You narrowed your eyes at the small figure of your daughter. “You little monster.” You swept her up into your arms and began to blow raspberries against her chubby little cheek, causing her to burst into a fit of giggles and loud laughter.

You couldn’t help but laugh along with her and then Steves’ earlier comment came to the forefront of your mind. ‘Captain America thinks I’m pretty! HOLY SHIT!’

You’d dwell on that later though.

“MY MOMMY LIKES CAPTAIN AMERICAS’ BUTT!” Kira shouted as she continued to gasp out giggles and you couldn’t help but laugh and indulge in her silly behaviour.

“I LIKE CAPTAIN AMERICAS’ BUTT!”

Kira roared in laughter once more along with you, and you both continued to find an abundance of humour in the situation the entire walk home.

_______________

“Hey punk,” Bucky spoke as he entered the main, spacious shared living room and spotted Steve sat on the couch, staring at his phone and smiling widely as his eyes scan over the words you had texted him.

“What’s got you grinning like that?” Bucky playfully quipped, a small smirk across his lips.

“Uh, nothing.” It could have been convincing if Steve had looked away from his phone and his already large smile didn’t widen further.

“Sure. Nothing.” Bucky shakes his head and sits beside his friend. “She pretty?”

Usually, Steve would question what made his friend think it was a woman, but he was so dazed and giddy, he couldn’t find it in him to deny it. “She’s so beautiful Buck.”

“Gotta date?”

“Not yet.”

Bucky chuckled and slapped his friends’ shoulder in good nature as he shook his head. “Well, good luck, punk. I hope you get that date.” Bucky stood and huffed a laugh at Steve still grinning at his phone as he left to head towards the kitchen, missing Steves’ mumbled response.

“Me too.”

_______________

Gosh dang do I love this man

That is all

If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

_______________

Marvel taglist:

@thanossexual @iwazoomingouttahere @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

Helpless (3)

warnings: misunderstandings, spiders/arachnophobia, mild violence

Halfway through the woods, Patton heard the distinct sound of someone mumbling.

He paused mid-step, tilting his head to listen with a fair bit of curiosity. The mumbling was quiet enough that he couldn’t make out any individual words, but he could more or less tell which direction it was coming from.

Whatever the source was, they sounded a little frustrated.

He hesitated. Virgil was always emphasizing how careful Patton needed to be in the woods, though how much of that was due to actual danger and how much was the drider being a worrywart over Patton’s ‘chronic inability to defend himself’, he wasn’t sure.

Either way, this didn’t sound like a dangerous wild animal, so it would probably be okay to take a little detour and see what the matter was!

He followed the noise off the trail into a thick copse of trees, eventually coming upon intricate silvery threadwork that wound between them. He was proud to say he only barely shuddered as he ducked past them, his fear of spiders mostly overcome by his affection for his friend.

The webbing got thicker the further he went, and eventually he came upon the source of the mumbling, which appeared to be a whole person, stuck against the outer edge of one of Virgil’s larger webs.

They looked up upon spotting him, eyes bright for a moment before taking him in and visibly dulling with disappointment, which, aside from sorta hurting Patton’s feelings, seemed an odd response for someone in need of help.

“Hello there,” he greeted, waving. “My name’s Patton, I live over at the nearby town. You seem to be in a bit of a prestickament!”

“No, I did this myself,” the stranger corrected, already looking past Patton with disinterest. “It is an attempt to meet with someone I would like to speak with, and they seem the skittish sort, so I would appreciate it if you moved on.”

Patton hummed, more than a little confused. Something about this seemed familiar. “What are you going to do if this person doesn’t show up, though?”

“My arms are free,” they responded, frowning at Patton’s persistence as they wiggled the fingers of their free hand demonstrably. The other hand was occupied with a worn-looking journal. “I will be able to eat and drink, and thus am in no danger.”

“My friend says these woods can get mighty cold at night,” Patton countered, undeterred. “Can’t you meet your friend in town, instead? Why does it have to be a drider’s web?”

And, oh, that was it! Virgil had just been telling him the other day about someone who’d gotten stuck in one of his webs just like this, a mage who had been all-too-delighted to see him. Patton had hardly registered how they’d met, since he’d mostly been very upset to learn that some people would try to use his friend’s body parts as potions ingredients.

“That’s because the drider is the one I’m hoping to speak with,” the stranger replied, as though it should be obvious. “I sincerely doubt they would appreciate an invitation to town.”

Patton stared at the little notebook for a moment, and abruptly put the pieces together. This must have been the stranger that freaked Virgil out so badly!

And he was lying in wait in one of Virgil’s webs… In that case, there was no way he could leave things like this.

“I don’t think the drider is around,” he offered cheerily. “Sometimes they migrate to different areas for different seasons! You won’t meet anyone while hanging around, so I’ll help you down!”

He circled around the tree where most of the webs were rooted, approaching the stranger’s edge of webbing, and found to his surprise that they really were stuck. How they planned to ambush Virgil while stuck in a web, he wasn’t sure, especially since the gambit hadn’t worked on the first attempt either. Magic, maybe?

“How do you know that?” the stranger asked, craning to look at him with sudden interest. “About drider migration cycles.”

Patton shrugged as he plucked at the threads of the web, testing each one to see where they led. “I’m a good listener, so I pick things up here and there. What do you do?”

It seemed to be the right question to ask, since the stranger perked up, distracted from his inquiry.

“I am a researcher,” they informed Patton. “I’m seeking out information on the more reclusive creatures that live in these lands, like driders! This is the first one that I’ve met in person, so if they’re leaving, I need to catch up right away.”

Patton slid the sheath off of the little paring knife he’d taken to carrying and started sawing at one of the threads. “Are you going to try to capture him?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as he could. “You know, for your research.”

“I’m not a bounty hunter,” they replied indignantly. “The behavior of any being would be unnatural and stilted while imprisoned, especially a sapient one. My research is meant to increase humanity's understanding of driders, not to put them on display for entertainment.”

Patton blinked at them, slicing through another strand. “You… aren’t looking to hurt them?”

“No!” They honestly sounded offended by the idea. “I don’t think I ever could, anyhow, the one I met was very large, and they would likely be able to incapacitate me without any trouble.”

“Weren’t you scared?” Patton asked, remembering the terror that had swept through him during that first encounter, when he’d thought the drider was a giant creepy crawly death dealer. Even after he realized, when Virgil yoinked him with his two front legs, Patton had been a little nervous.

“People are only scared of what they don’t understand,” they informed him, chin lifted stubbornly, “and I know more about driders than any other human. I don’t see any reason to be afraid.”

“Wow… You’re really passionate about this, huh?” Patton grinned as he sliced through the last of the support webbing, and with a few snaps, the researcher fell to the ground, only a few strands of silk clinging to them.

“Of course!” they replied, pausing to pull some of the softer webbing bits off of himself and folding them into a pocket of his bag. “The information compiled on them is often vague or outright misleading, and due to their reclusiveness and occasional aggression, nobody else has been able to correct these false accounts.”

They paused, studying the woods around them. “I am… uncertain on how I’m going to discern which area the drider has chosen to migrate to. I don’t suppose you have any idea?”

Patton patted their shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. I think there’s a friend of mine you should meet properly.”

—

“Virgil!” Patton called brightly. “I’m here!”

He had been leading the way through increasingly dense and shadowy foliage for a fair while, now. Logan glanced up from their connected hands to see exactly where he was being pulled to, his heartbeat picking up in speed despite the possibility that this was a cruel prank or even a mugging.

Sure, Patton had described the drider that he’d met a couple of days ago quite accurately, but that was no assurance that he was actually familiar with the being. Most of the townsfolk seemed peripherally aware of ‘Virgil’’s presence, after all, so Patton could have glimpsed him before. It seemed more likely than them being friends. Driders were notoriously solitary, and ‘Virgil’ had seemed quite averse during Logan’s encounter with him, after all.

There was a crack from above, like a branch snapping.

In the next moment, a heavy weight had dropped down from above, knocking Logan to the ground and forcing all the air from his lungs. As he gasped futilely, he realized there were two hands pinning his arms to the ground, and some very familiar fangs put on full display, mere inches from his face.

“Leave him alone,” a very angry drider demanded, his regular voice layered with harsh, gravely rattling.

Logan wheezed in response, absently noting that there were multiple small black eyes visible against the dark marks under the more human set of eyes and wondering just how the two different ocular sensory organs overlapped.

“Virgil, stop!” Patton’s hands appeared at the edge of Logan’s vision, pushing back against Virgil’s shoulders until he eased up, lifting his crouched spider half up only slightly, as though prepared to lunge at Logan again at any moment. “He’s fine! He won’t hurt you!”

Virgil’s glare finally flicked away, though it turned more bewildered-angry than murderous-angry once landing on Patton. Logan wasn’t sure, but he thought the smaller eyes remained locked on him. “This is the mage I told you about! It’s not safe, you need to get out of here--,”

“Mage?” Logan asked, his voice still coming out a little winded. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s not,” Patton said at nearly the same time, “I promise, he just wants to know more about you! Right, Logan?”

“I’m certainly not a mage,” he agreed, rubbing at his arm. The full force of a drider grabbing him… that was going to bruise. He wondered if there was a way to measure that power. “I’m not sure how you got that impression, I don’t have any of the tools mages often carry.”

Virgil looked back and forth between the two humans with clear consternation, and Patton was the one who answered. “Well, most people are afraid at just the sight of him. And… you weren’t.”

“Of course not,” Logan said, still trying to grasp the connection between his lack of fear and his alleged magehood. “I was enthralled. He’s very beautiful.”

Above him, Virgil made a choked-off noise and shuffled back, giving Logan space to sit up and regain full faculty of his senses. Virgil had turned his face away, and Patton was muffling a smile behind his hand.

“Was that… invasive?” Logan asked hesitantly, glancing between the two of them. “I apologize, this is my first research voyage, so I may have become... over-enthusiastic.”

Virgil flapped a hand at him, as though trying to physically dispel his words. “What exactly does a ‘research voyage’ entail?”

Logan straightened up, trying to look as professional as possible while still sitting on the forest floor. He suspected there might be detritus in his hair. “It’s a journey undertaken by apprentice-level researchers to expand their knowledge in their specific field. Often, once they have thorough evidence and a compelling thesis, they will return to their teacher and present this in order to advance as a journeyman.”

Of course, Logan had no intention of doing that. He was going to spend as long as he could traveling and learning and compiling his knowledge, until nobody could argue that he wasn’t suited to the world of scholars.

“And your field is… spiders? Monsters?” Virgil asked, eyebrows raised dubiously.

“I am attempting to correct the misconceptions that are so rampant in bestiaries,” Logan corrected. “So many depend on them, but I’ve found very few actually capture the intricacies of the cultures and habits of nonhuman magical beings. They read more like old wives’ tales, passed down and warped with time, and both the scientific community and the beings in question suffer for it.”

“Huh.” Virgil tilted his head slightly, and Logan realized that at some point his smaller eyes had closed, the dark creases vanishing amidst the pockets of shade under his eyes.

“That sounds like the bestiary way to help people!” Patton added, and Logan watched in disbelief as Virgil’s expression relaxed further, the drider snorting softly.

“So all I’d have to do is… be a drider in front of you?” he asked, one of his back legs tapping against the ground in a remarkable imitation of the way a nervous human might tap their foot. Logan nodded. “I guess… it could work. And it’d be nice to have someone else around who won’t scream at the sight of me.”

“New friend!” Patton cheered, looking perhaps more delighted at the idea than Logan’s presence really warranted. “Only the spidaring are cool enough to be friends with Virgil.”

“Is the wordplay going to be a regular thing with him?” Logan asked, his face pinching sourly.

“Better get used to it. He’s punstoppable,” Virgil replied, grinning toothily when Logan shot him a betrayed look. Logan thought he seemed pleased, going by the subtle twitching of his pointy ears.

Logan hid a small smile of his own. Perhaps following Patton wasn't the unwisest decision he'd ever made, after all.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #arachnaphobia tw #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #drider #drider au #my writing #helpless #writing #am i missing tags?

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

Text

Marinette tried not to be obvious with her annoyance, but it was difficult when she knew that Lila had come to the Liberty specifically to irritate her. It wasn't even her paranoia creeping up, as Lila had made it clear from their first day of face-to-face interaction that she wanted to make Marinette's life miserable. The worst part was that everyone else either believed her or tolerated her, meaning Marinette looked unreasonable no matter what she did to combat it.

She figured she should've known that Luka would be Lila’s next target. The Liberty had always felt like somewhat of a safe haven - funny, considering who owned it - so it had only been a matter of time until Lila had heard enough to decide to show up there.

"Oh, she seemed so curious to actually be on a houseboat! She's only ever been on yachts and stuff before! How could we say 'no'?

Marinette tried to keep her lips shut tight so the gritting of her teeth wasn't seeable to anyone. The best she could do was watch from afar and keep any unkind comments internal while vaguely fantasizing about being Ladybug and dumping Lila in the garbage where she belonged.

Luka, to his credit, didn't seem to take Lila's bait like everyone else. She'd sought him out and he technically listened to her (as she lied about all the music people she knew and all the connections she could give him), but he was mostly occupied with tuning his guitar, only giving her a vague noise every now and then to signal that he was listening.

It was one of Marinette's few joys of the day, which made it twice as infuriating when Lila ruined it.

"Anyway, Luka," Lila added, her voice saccharine and fake, "I really hope you and I can become great friends."

Luka's eyebrow twitched.

"And don't worry, I would never force you. I know there are some people like that, who want to make everything go their way—"

Marinette knew it was a jab at her even though she definitely wasn't that kind of person; from Lila's point of view though, of course she'd think that.

Lila continued, "but I'd never do that to you, okay? I promise!"

For the first time since she'd been talking to him, Luka turned to her, his expression somewhere between neutral and the annoyance he showed at listening to XY's "version" of Kitty Section's music. "Can you please—"

He didn't get to finish that sentence, as Lila suddenly leaned in to kiss him. Luka jerked away the moment it registered with him, but it was already too late; the contact had been made.

All the anger that had been stewing in Marinette's stomach bubbled to the surface. She stormed over, her body language confrontational as she asked, "What do you think you're doing?!"

The outburst had gotten the attention of the other girls. Though they hadn't seen it, what happened was obvious given the way Luka was covering his mouth.

Lila turned to face Marinette, sinking to that vulnerable state she used so much whenever she got caught. "I-I didn't mean to! I meant to kiss his cheek and he turned too quickly."

It was a lie, and Marinette knew it. Lila had intentionally said things to make Luka look at her so she could kiss him, all to irritate Marinette.

"You see..." Lila pressed her palm to her cheek. "I-I thought a cheek kiss would be okay. You don't seem like the type of person who would be close to someone like him, and everyone told me that you do it all the time."

Marinette was fuming at the implication, feeling personally insulted at the idea that she and Luka weren't close.

And they'd told her. Her friends had been gossiping about her to Lila, or at least telling her details, which Marinette herself had definitely not consented to.

She went to toss a glare her friends' way, but they were already rushing forward to assure Lila that everything was okay, with Marinette having to step away or risk getting knocked back with the way they formed around her.

"M-maybe I need to re-learn French customs. I spent so long away from the country and other places have—"

Marinette wasn't listening anymore. She knew how this went and didn't want to be around to see another repeat of it, nor her friends potentially shouting at her. She turned away with a frustrated exhale, speed-stomping away and going up the stairs to head outside.

Passing by the cabin, she went into the greenhouse-esque area with all of the larger plants, plopping down on the long flower-patterned seating with a heavy sigh. She'd fallen right into Lila's trap, again, and couldn't help being angry at the whole situation.

Going after her was one thing, but Luka? And to kiss him like that on top of trying to lure him in with her deceit? Marinette knew deep down that she had a right to be upset at Lila's actions, but the way she reacted to it just ended up making Lila look like the victim instead of Luka. Had she failed him?

She groaned into her clasped hands, imagining that Luka must've thought that she looked like a fool shouting like that. She liked to think that she would've done things differently had she been able to do it again, but she was still angry and honestly just wanted to go off on Lila again.

She didn't move, though briefly considered going home. After all, it'd be pointless going back downstairs, as she'd probably just end up being glared at and blamed for Lila being upset. Luka probably didn't want to see her either after that display anyway.

As if her concerns had summoned him, she suddenly heard his voice call out to her from nearby. "Marinette?"

She stiffened, then lowered her hands enough to peek at him. When none of the negative emotions she expected showed on his face, she lowered them the rest of the way.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

She straightened, jaw slack that's that what he was concerned about. "Am I okay? What about you?!" She gestured wildly to him. "That—that akuma-luring harpy just kissed you!"

She realized what she said and covered her mouth, knowing that it was a much more direct insult than she usually would've gone with. Luka, however, tried to suppress a laugh from it, snorting loudly into his hand.

"I—" He cut himself off, still chuckling too much to speak. After a few seconds, he took a breath to calm down, then gave her a calm smile and continued, "I washed my mouth out, just to make sure."

Marinette tried to keep her negative emotions at the forefront, but then she was trying to suppress her laughter as well. She almost felt bad about it, but the wide grin on Luka's face showed that he'd fully intended for her to have that reaction. He walked over, taking a seat down next to her and leaning forward to maintain eye contact.

He waited until she quieted herself down with a final squeak that he asked again, "Really, are you okay?"

The smile she had on from laughter faded, though her spirits were still much higher than before. "Not really. She—she's always doing that." She glanced at him. "Let me guess, they're catering to her?"

He nodded. "They're planning on having lunch without you since you—" He made a face, clearly displeased. "—'made her so upset.'" He stared out of the glass opposite of them. "I wasn't going to join them."

"You didn't have to do that," she said, though her voice was soft from being touched by the gesture.

He gave her a smile. "I know, but I'd rather have lunch with you than with everyone else and that—" He smirked. "—'harpy.'"

Marinette tried to bite back a smile of her own, but couldn't. Hearing the pure-hearted Luka say an insult so brazenly, even if he was just parroting her own, was too funny not to smile at.

"Thanks~" she said gratefully.

"I should be thanking you," he argued. He leaned back in his seat, but didn't stop looking at her. "For being so upset on my behalf."

She blushed, looking away with both shyness and embarrassment. "I-I was really loud though."

"You play your song for everyone to hear, Marinette. I love that about you."

She blushed deeper, mentally cursing his smoothness. "How are you so okay with this?"

"I'm not," he replied, "not really, but..." He shrugged. "That kiss didn't mean anything to me. It wasn't real."

She looked over at him, frowning. "T-that was your first though, wasn't it?"

His brows rose in surprise, his face telling her everything she needed to know even before he responded. "...Well, yeah."

Now that she'd had it officially confirmed, Marinette bristled. "It's not right!" She huffed and turned to him, throwing her arms out. "Your first kiss is supposed to be special and with someone you really love! It's not supposed to just be stolen from you like that!"

He touched a hand to his chest, clearly touched by her passionate anger. She turned red and forced herself to look away from him, finding it hard to stay angry when he stared at her that way.

"...And I know you were already pretty upset with her, I could see it," she explained, "so it wasn't like I felt like I had to get angry for you, but still. She doesn't care what anyone thinks and I'm mad at her for kissing you like that and I'm mad at me because she only did it to get on my nerves and I know I shouldn't be mad at me because she's just mad that I won't fall for her lies but I'm mad anyway because I still let her rile me up when that's exactly what she wanted." Burying her face in her hands, she whined and added, "I guess I wasn't jealous at least - not in that way anyway - since I'd never want to do anything to you without your permission like she did, but I know she meant for me to get to jealous because I just—"

She cut herself off, the words clogging up her throat and forcing her to swallow them. She raked her fingers through her hair, mentally debating with herself if she really wanted to tell Luka everything.

But of course she did. Not only did he deserve it, but she felt responsible for her feelings and it was her fault that things happened the way they did, even if it was indirect on her part.

"I..." She closed her eyes and sighed, her voice lowering itself to a whisper. Hunching over, she wrung her hands together and admitted quietly, "I wanted to be your first kiss..."

Silence took over the conversation from there, but she understood. She just dropped a bomb on him and couldn't expect him to reply right away, so she let the seconds drag on without any judgment on her part.

Eventually, she heard the sound of Luka sliding himself closer, so close that the side of his hand briefly touched her leg. He inhaled softly like he was about to speak, stopped, then tried again.

"You... you what?"

She steeled herself up, the words only slightly easier to say than before. "I wanted to be your first kiss. I-I'm selfish, and I know that. Everyone knows it, and that's why—"

His hand touched her leg again. She briefly jumped in surprise, then realized moments later that the touch was intentional this time, as he'd fully settled his hand on her leg. Fighting against her nerves, she turned to look at him and saw how relaxed his expression was.

"You can be selfish."

"W-what?"

"It makes me happy. It means that—" He paused, his cheeks tinting pink as he smiled wide. "—you really want me."

It almost sounded like a question the way he said it, his eyes distant only in a way that implied that he's still absorbing what she'd said.

Her chest filled with hope as she squeaked out, "I...I do. Of course I do." Looking down at the hand on her lap, she placed her own onto it and gave it a squeeze. "But..."

The hope twisted and fought with the shame attempting to take its place, memories of the past coming back to haunt her. She averted her gaze fully, staring off at nothing in particular. "I-I can't give you my first kiss." She squeezed his hand tighter, as if that made anything better. "There was this akuma, and I had to... I mean—"

She felt his hand shifting in hers and immediately worried that she'd squeezed it too hard. She loosened her grip, only to feel his hand turn itself around to hold her hand back, pressing their palms together. The motion made her look back and make eye contact with him.

"Then that wasn't real either, was it?" he asked gently. Giving a fond glance down at their joined hands, he added, "This might be more Rose's type of music than mine, but I think the only kisses that have to matter are the ones that you put meaning into playing."

She gaped. It was still registering with her that he was not only okay with her crushing on him, but still returned it. "S-so... it's not any different? You'd let me kiss you anyway?"

"I never thought about first kisses or second kisses, or any verses beyond that," he told her, placing his other hand on top of their joined ones. "I only care about your kisses."

Marinette's cheeks turned crimson, and she nearly burst into happy laughter. She settled for beaming at him, still amazing at how easily he could ease all of her worries and doubts.

"Then... I'll give you all of them."

She shifted, continuing to hold his hand while her other went to his face. He leaned into her touch, making her all the more eager to pull him in. He didn't protest when she did, his hand moving away from their joined ones to grab her shoulder.

They kissed. Marinette was momentarily surprised when Luka's lips seemed to have a hint of wetness to them, only to realize that he'd meant it when he said that he'd washed his mouth out. She giggled mid-kiss, positively delighted to have someone like him, and he responded to the sound with a soft noise of content. She stroked his cheek with her thumb, then slid her hand down to his neck to urge him closer. He did the same with her shoulder, pulling her in and deepening the contact.

It took a few seconds of internal debate for her to convince herself to break the kiss to talk to him, and she enjoyed the slight whine he made as she did so.

"Better than Lila?" she asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it regardless.

"Definitely," he replied without hesitation, leaning in to touch his forehead to hers.

She hummed. "Mm, good." She pulled him back in for a smaller, quicker kiss that was no less loving than the last. Full of confidence, she felt it safe to say, "I should always be playing my boyfriend's favorite song."

His reaction was immediate, his eyes sparkling and his smile wide. She blushed red, overwhelmed and half-regretting saying anything. He was just too much.

"What is it?" he asked when she averted her gaze.

"P-please stop smiling like that," she whined.

"I can't," he said. More to himself than her, he added cheerfully, "I'm your boyfriend."

"Luka!"

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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nat-20s · 3 years

Text

fill of @jonmartinweek day 6 prompt- flirting AND jealousy, though much heavier on the jealousy than the flirting. Set in a classic “season 5 jmart time travel bac to season 1″ au

~*~

“Mr. Blackwood-Sims, if I didn’t know any better, I would assume you’re trying to proposition me.”

“Mr. Sims-Blackwood, I would never. For one, neither of us are inclined towards those sorts of activities, for second, we’re both married men. What would my husband say?”

“I believe your husband would say he never specified exactly what you were propositioning, and he would be more than amenable to kissing, preferably sometime in the next few seconds.”

“Mmm, suppose I’ll have to find him and take him up on that, then. If that’s really how he feels.”

“Trust me, it most certainly is.”

Christ, would those two shut up already? Granted, it’s late enough that they probably think they’re alone in the archives, but, still. This is, technically, a work place, and Jon would’ve preferred not to have accidentally gotten an eyeful as he made his way past the open door in the breakroom. Now, the image of (supposedly) a future version of himself sitting on the couch, with (supposedly) a future version of Martin straddling his legs, using one hand to cup his face, and the other to run his hands through that Jon’s longer hair, was seared into his mind, and he hated it. Look, contrary to what people who don’t know him very well seemed to believe, he’s hardly a prude. He’s more than fine with descriptions of physical intimacy, as well as public displays of affection. If he’s being honest with himself, deep down, he doesn’t even care all that much about professionalism, especially considering it is after hours.

But of course, he’s not being honest with himself, because then he’d have to admit that it bothers him that it’s them. He doesn’t know what to call the acrid burning in the pit of his stomach, the too tight ache in his chest, that’s present whenever the fun house mirror versions of himself and Martin are besotted with each other, but he knows it’s there. It doesn’t help that he’s the only one that seems to be bothered by it, the only one that frowns at the flash of wedding rings or the orbit those two always seem to occupy around each other.

Or, no, he’s not the only one. Occasionally, while witnessing the two of them being...the Two of Them, he can’t help glancing over to Martin. Lo and behold, Martin also doesn’t look thrilled about all of this, usually skewing more towards confusion or, oddly enough, resignation. At least, that’s what Jon thinks he sees there, it’s one of the few times where he can’t fully get a read on Martin.

Still, as much as Martin might share in being somewhat perturbed, as anyone who meets their “future selves” should be, Martin doesn’t seem nearly as upset as Jon is. That brings him back to his current predicament of feeling that level of upset, but not being able to determine the root cause of it.

It is not that he’s jealous. It’s not! He does not feel a pang of envy at seeing someone who looks extremely similar to himself loving openly, and being openly loved in return. He doesn’t find his thoughts drifting to the imagined feeling of lips pressed to his temple or arms around his waist or fingers running through his hair. He certainly hasn’t looked down at his left hand and been disappointed by the fact that its bare. He doesn’t even want those things, as he’s been telling himself for a number of many lonely years. One of these days he might even believe it.

Fine. Fine. Maybe, but only maybe, there’s a part of him that’s jealous. Maybe there’s even a part of him that despairs, because try as he might he can’t connect point A to point B, can’t see the steps he would have to take to be like that other version of himself, and he knows his Martin (well, not his Martin, but..) will never look at him like that, will never see him in that light. And, damn it all, it hurts, so if they could kindly stop ru-

Oh. Wait. He can’t hear them outside his office door anymore. Huh, perhaps they-

“Knock knock.”

Startled out of his...contemplation, Jon looks up to find himself looking back. Sims is leaning against the door-frame, with mussed hair, swollen lips, and pupils blown wide. Jon loathes him and wishes to be him in equal measure. In a move he usually would’ve thought more characteristic of Tim, Sims doesn’t wait for a response, instead sitting himself across from Jon and saying, “Figured you’d still be here.”

Trying not to sound too much like he’s speaking through gritted teeth, Jon asks, “Did you now?”

Sims gives a lackadaisical shrug. “With any luck, you’re not going to become me. I not sure you can become me, at this point, diverging paths and all that. However, we do share the first 28 years of our lives, and I certainly didn’t believe in the concept of a work life balance, so why would you?”

“Is there something you wanted?”

“Yes, actually. I want you to ask out Martin, your moping is getting insufferable, and considering how much of our misery has been entirely outside of our control, you shouldn’t put up with what is in your power to fix.”

Jon blinks. Jon processes. Jon stammers. “I-what?! I am not, you can’t just-. Martin doesn’t even like me, and if you really were the same person as me, you know I’m not all that keen on him either.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you can’t stop thinking about his hands?”

“I do no-”

Sims puts a hand up in surrender, though the smirk doesn’t entirely drop. “Sorry, sorry, I know that’s rather unhelpful. What I mean is, you’re already loved, right now, as you are. No, that love is not coming from Martin, but it could be,t because he doesn’t dislike you. He doesn’t know you, because you have done everything in your power to make sure he doesn’t. You also don’t know him, even though you’re interested in him, because you’ve been trying not to be. It’s stupid. Get to know each other. It’ll probably work out.”

“I...is that how you did it? Because this seems like an objectively terrible idea.”

Sims snorts. “God, no. It took a coma before I was able to untangle my own feelings. The whole point is that you won’t have to take the same looping, painful path that I did.”

Jon wants to reject it outright, almost does, and yet. “Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. Why?’

“Nothing, just. We’re usually a more stubborn on these sorts of things. I was expecting more of a fight.”

“Mm. Normally, I would be, but I’ve been forced to watch two rather obvious proof of concepts waltzing around in front of me, and agreeing will hopefully get you the hell out of my office.”

Sims studies him for a moment, then a surprised smile spreads on his face. “All right then.”

Jon makes a dismissive hand wave, and Sims obliges, and he spends the rest of the night trying not to think about what he’s agreed to.

~*~

The next day, about half an hour before the end of the work day, Jon calls Martin into his office. From his tight shoulders and carefully blank expression, it’s clear Martin very much does not want to be there. Great. This is going to go so well.

Jon gestures for him to sit, Martin does, and he dives in. “As we both now know, I don’t have the ability to fire you. In all reality, even though I am, on paper, your boss, I truly don’t have any power or authority over you.”

Martin leans back in his seat, letting a heavy pause fall between them before saying a stilted, “Okay?”

“So, I want you to know that I am about to ask you a question, and you have complete freedom and choice over your response, without fear of any negative consequences. Alright?”

“Um. Sure.”

Jon takes a breath, slowly lets it out, and bites the bullet. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

Martin stares. Then he squints. Then he studies. “Oh. Jon, you...we’re not them, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“So..why?”

Jon lets out a sigh, and tries to gather his thoughts in a way that makes sense to either of them. “Well, though I myself have some trouble with the concept, they’re not..entirely removed from who we are, and there’s enough foundation there that I have reason to believe we might...get on? Maybe we don’t, maybe we end up being friends, maybe we end up like them. That’s already enough to pique my own curiosity, but, alternate future versions of us aside, I mostly would just like to get to know more about you, and I’m hoping you might like to get to know me better as well.”

Martin’s shoulders relax, and he chews on his bottom lip for a moment before replying, “Okay. Yeah, why not?”

“Oh. Oh! Great! Does this Saturday work for you?”

“Works perfectly. Let’s give a shot.”

The first date is..fine. A Bit of a mess, but fine. The second date, however, is the best Jon’s ever been on. It’s so wonderful, in fact, that he doesn’t even mind when he catches Blackwood passing a fiver to Sims the day he can’t stop smiling at work.

#jonmartinweek2021 #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #tma #the ending is literally 'we wouldn't be compatible without trauma' 'oh bet?'#ALSO GOD THIS IS SO LONG FOR A FICLET HH

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qitwrites · 3 years

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(AO3)

June 1st falls on a random Tuesday. The weather is decent enough, the sun bright but not harsh, and the air is pleasant, slowly dipping to colder temperatures.

Everyone crowds around various desks to chatter before homeroom, and Iida spends a grand total of two minutes trying to bring about order before migrating towards Todoroki’s desk to join in the conversation he’s having with Midoriya and Sero. When there’s roughly 14 seconds to spare before Aizawa rolls into the class in his signature yellow sleeping bag, everyone takes their seats and on time, as always, Aizawa arrives.

Three things are noted immediately:

1. The yellow sleeping bag is nowhere in sight. It’s happened before, but not often.

2. There’s a strange bounce to Aizawa’s step. Not like a normal bounce, but he’s not dragging his feet like a reluctant, sleep-deprived sloth. His steps are focused and intentional. This is a very rare, almost never-before-witnessed sight.

3. His hair is up. He doesn’t usually do it up for class, though they’ve seen him pull it into a pony when he’s dressed more casually and not in his hero attire. This is an unprecedented situation.

The class watches Aizawa wearily because, from literal months of experience, they have realized that when something is out of the ordinary, shit usually flings itself towards the fan in a most spectacularly dramatic fashion.

Even Bakugou is on-edge, watching Aizawa like a hawk. Midoriya is ready to whip his iconic notebook out and make yet another behavioral observation under the Eraserhead section. Iida looks ready to disperse any tension. They are all ready.

Aizawa sets his stuff down, gruffly wishes them good morning and then turns around to write something on the board.

They are not ready.

It’s not a big deal at all actually. In hindsight, its stupidly minor, but with Aizawa, it stands out bright and shiny, and even Koda makes a small noise of surprise.

Aizawa’s hair is pulled into a pony with a scrunchie. Which is fine, all well and good. But the scrunchie is made of a rainbow-colored hyper shiny material, which is surprising, because Aizawa always seems allergic to color, especially on his person.

And finally, there are only 6 colors in the rainbow. Momo connects the dots before the rest, though Midoriya follows closely behind.

‘That’s-‘

‘-pride,’ Midoriya breathes, soft but just enough for Bakugou, Jirou, and Sero to hear.

The class is shocked for the first ten or so minutes, as more and more people make the connection, but honestly, it’s just a scrunchie. And with Eri under Aizawa’s care, it isn’t unlikely that he’s worn one of her hair ties or something. This is probably a coincidence, even if it is the first of June, so everyone stops fixating and starts focusing on class.

The scrunchie goes unmentioned and1A is on the same page- it’s definitely just a one-time thing.

It is not a one-time thing.

On the second of June, Aizawa saunters in seemingly back to his normal attire, and a few shoulders slump. They might all be saying its a coincidence, but that doesn’t mean they’re happy about it. There’s something so reassuring about the idea of their teacher, someone that protects them fiercely and loyally, being supportive.

Aizawa doesn’t seem to pick up on the mood, he just assigns them some self-study before taking a seat at his desk. And then he, very uncharacteristically, puts his feet up and reclines in his chair, a folder propped open in his lap.

There’s a collective inhale, the whole class breathing in as one because there it is- undeniable proof that it isn’t a coincidence.

On Aizawa’s feet are the brightest, most vibrantly gay pride socks ever. Each of the 6 colors loop around the material before the pattern repeats, and there’s no white material or anything, just the colors of the flag over and over.

‘Holy shit,’ Mina whisper-shouts, and her smile is blinding. Uraraka giggles. Tokoyami nods sagely and says, ‘The support of a figure of authority is a beacon against the darkness of humanity.��

They do their best to focus on self-study, but there’s a buzz around the class, a happy vibe that permeates the air and saturates it completely. There’s a glob of purple in the corner that seems indifferent, if not actively dismayed, but he goes ignored.

Midoriya writes something in his notebook and puts three stars next to it.

On the third of June, Aizawa has a rainbow hair clip pushing his bangs out of his face, and on the fourth, the soles of his shoes are rainbow and proud.

The competition begins the following Monday.

The thing about class 1A is that they try to support one another in any way possible, to encourage and stand together and everything. The other thing is that they’re hella competitive. It’s a hero course after all, and they’re trying to come out on top and be the best.

And it turns out their teacher, the chilled, nonchalant, mostly uninterested Aizawa Shota, is almost more than a little competitive when it comes to this stuff.

On Monday, Momo uses a pride scrunchie to pull her hair into her signature ponytail. Jirou has a band around her wrist that says love is love is love, and Satou bakes rainbow cookies for the whole class, leaving a few on Aizawa’s desk beforehand.

Their teacher walks in with his hair up again, and when his eyes settle on the cookies, they widen fractionally before he schools his expression into a more neutral one. He greets them all and his eyes flit over Jirou’s band, and the colorful cookie crumbs around the class. When he looks at Momo, she quickly turns her head to the side, showing off her hair accessory that matches his.

Aizawa doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t smile, or even nod, nothing. He just kinda gets down to business. At least, that’s what it would look like to someone on the outside.

But 1A reads him- they watch the way he pushes his hair back, fingers lingering on his scrunchie while he reads out their assignment. They see the way his eyes momentarily linger on the cookies or Jirou’s wrist, such small, quick glances that they all catch because they read him. They know him, and he knows that they know.

When class ends, the room is filled with warm giggles when Aizawa leaves, the plate of cookies in hand.

The next day, Ojiro has a braid in his tail with different threads mixed in there, forming the familiar rainbow pattern. Mina has her horns painted in a pride flag ombre, spanning three different colors on each. Kirishima uses a rainbow hairband to keep his bangs out of his face during training, and Midoriya switches out his black shoelaces for rainbows.

Aizawa’s eyes ping pong around the class, and for a moment everyone wonders how many dress codes they’re breaking but he doesn’t say anything again. He just reads out their assignments as usual, his own pride pin shining brightly on his chest, against the black of his hero uniform.

It’s all fun and games, full of warmth and support until Aizawa starts pulling out the big guns.

Because when Aizawa walks in with a multicolored scarf wrapped around his neck, the class collectively realizes- he is challenging them, and beating them quite mercilessly at that.

It’s obvious enough that even Bakugou growls in frustration, and then the games begin.

Mina shaves the word Pride into Iida’s undercut. Kaminari paints his nails. Hagakure replaces all her uniform buttons with multicolored ones. Shoji replaces his teal blue face mask with a pride one, and Uraraka has a few braids on the back of her head too. Satou’s desserts get more and more elaborate, more and more eye-catching and delicious.

The day after Aizawa walks in with a multicolored scarf, belt and goggles set, Satou stays up the entire night baking, set on paying their teacher back thrice fold.

Morning finds a rainbow croquembouche perched on Aizawa’s desk. Even Bakugou gives Satou a nod of respect because what the fuck? It’s literally a tower of sweets, brightly colored and absolutely delectable, and they get the biggest reaction out of Aizawa yet. His eyes widen, mouth dropping into a shocked little ‘o’, and his eyes immediately seek out Satou, who gives him a wide grin. Shaking his head incredulously, Aizawa conducts his class as usual. It’s a herculean task but he manages.

He still walks out with the entire dish balanced in his hands with great care.

Every teacher in their year has rainbow-colored tongues for the rest of the day.

Aizawa retaliates with eyeshadow. Rainbow eyeshadow. Jirou’s mouth drops, Aoyama starts wailing dramatically and even Todoroki looks impressed. Bakugou clicks his tongue and looks away, and Mina wants revenge.

The entire class comes together for the final showdown. Everyone tries to put color in their hair, though it doesn’t really work for the darker colors. Tokoyami adds a few sprinkles of glitter into his feathers, Iida switches his plain black frames to much more gaudy pride ones, and Todoroki and Bakugou have the most vibrant hair of them all, bright and ridiculous. Aizawa eyes them fondly almost, and that’s when they should’ve realized they were way out of their depth.

Because on June 30th, Aizawa walks into the class, his uniform spick and span, hair down, a ridiculous bounce in his step. Everyone eyes him from head to toe, and when they land on his feet, Kirishima inhales shakily.

‘No,’ he whispers.

‘Oh yes,’ Aizawa answers, his grin far too gleeful.

‘No fucking way,’ Bakugou snarls. His hands are shaking.

‘Language,’ Aizawa admonishes, his smile widening.

‘We’re doomed,’ Mina mumbles.

And right then, Aizawa taps the heels of his shoes together, and his pride rainbow shoes glow up and that’s it. Class 1A has lost. They accept it rather graciously, all things considered. Aizawa cackles like an evil witch, and Sero comforts a weeping Kaminari.

On July 1st, things go back to normal. Mostly normal.

Because Midoriya keeps the shoelaces. Someone sneaks a rainbow charm on Bakugou’s bag that he somehow keeps forgetting to obliterate to pieces. Kirishima doesn’t switch out his hairband, and Ojiro asks Tsuyu to braid his tail when they go out for more casual outings.

And Aizawa? Well, the soles of his hero boots are never quite the same.

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

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De Amore

My fic for @aceomenszine is finally available on AO3!

Aziraphale has come to Paris to find the answer to an important question: What's it like to be in love? Crowley's not sure why he wants to know, but he's willing to discuss it to make his angel happy. Full text below!

“What’s it like to be in love?”

Crowley stumbled to a stop on the Paris street, glaring at the angel beside him. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, walking with his usual expression: calm, poised, slightly arrogant. As if he were talking about the weather.

“Dunno. S’a human thing, isn’t it?” He scowled at a few gawking peasants, hurrying to catch up. “Romance. Lust. Sex. Nothing to do with us.”

“You could say the same of hunger, or exhaustion, or boredom.”

“Yeah, and I’d be right.” Crowley held out an arm to stop Aziraphale from walking directly into a produce cart. “Neither of us gets exhausted. You’re never tired, and I just like a good nap sometimes.”

“Really?” A flicker of that mocking bastard smirk. “How many nights did you sleep this past week?”

“Nrrg. Five or six, but that’s not the point.” They started walking again, Crowley tossing an apple he’d snuck from the cart. “I could stop if I wanted to — I’d miss it, but s’not the same as being tired. Same with you and eating.”

“But if I desire a food, so strongly I can already taste it, surely that’s…if not exactly hunger, a close approximation?”

“Don’t think so.” Crowley offered the apple, but Aziraphale shook his head. “Spend a couple days in the city, you’ll see what hunger looks like. S’not about pleasure or wanting a particular food. It’s need, desperation. And we just don’t experience that.” He tossed the apple towards a group of children, and a girl in a ragged dress caught it. “Boredom I’ll grant you. I’ve definitely been bored.”

“So, we might enjoy things as humans do, but never desire them the same way,” Aziraphale mused, smoothing his hands down the front of his stolen jacket. “But is love the longing for a connection with another, or the pleasure of that connection?”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to us, does it?”

He waited for Aziraphale to respond, but the angel simply continued walking, hands folded behind his back, eyes more distant than usual.

“So?” Crowley prodded after nearly a block in silence. “What brought this on?” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let me guess. Reading novels again? Sappy poetry? Getting…ideas?” He stepped ahead of Aziraphale and walked backwards, to ensure the angel saw his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. No response. Crowley shrugged, falling back into step. “Look, f’you want to try falling in love with a human, s’your business. Let me know how it goes. Just do it back in London, I don’t need that…drama getting back to my bosses.”

“That’s not it,” Aziraphale snapped, wringing his hands. “It’s not — it doesn’t even work that way, Crowley. Humans don’t just decide to fall in love!”

“They don’t cross an ocean and charge through a revolution for a snack, either.”

“Oh, never mind. Clearly you’re the expert here.” Aziraphale froze, glaring at a shop just ahead, and threw his hands up in disgust. “And now they’ve closed my favorite creperie! Why do I even bother? Might as well return to England and feast upon whatever lumpy brown bread the first tavern I pass serves.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Crowley hissed, turning down a side street and gesturing for Aziraphale to follow. “If you get locked up again, I’m not rescuing you a second time.” The angel’s lips twisted sourly. “Look, gourmet crepes aren’t really in demand right now, but I know a place. Might still be open.”

“I suppose that will have to do.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and glared at the sky, thin grey clouds veiling the sun. He should probably just let Aziraphale stew in his own sullen displeasure. Might even give him an advantage — a distracted angel was easier to outsmart.

But Crowley hadn’t been in the business of thwarting Aziraphale for over a thousand years. Why oppose each other, when they could work…not together, but in tandem? Ensuring all their duties were fulfilled, their paperwork properly filed.

It was better this way. Less fuss all around, less inconvenience. Pleasanter conversation. More time for trips to the theater or quiet meals, either of which was a far better way to spend an evening than any sort of elaborate espionage.

He’d been looking forward to griping about his job over a mug of cider while Aziraphale worked his way through a plate of crepes, smiling and wiggling in his seat. Watching Aziraphale get excited over something was, in Crowley’s opinion, one of the best ways to pass the time.

Only the conversation had left Aziraphale annoyed, pouting and…Crowley studied him carefully, dark glasses imperfectly hiding his eyes. More than anything, Aziraphale looked hurt. A sight that always made Crowley’s stomach twist painfully.

He sighed, tossing back his head. “‘Love is an inborn suffering, proceeding from the sight and immoderate thought upon the beauty of another, for which cause above all other things one wishes to embrace the other and, by common assent, in this embrace to fulfil the commandments of love.’”[1]

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I don’t know. You asked me—!” Crowley walked faster, face growing hot. “It’s from some old treatise, right? Love, he says, is seeing someone beautiful and wanting sex. Then, when you have your fill…” he waved his hand vaguely.

“I see.” Aziraphale adjusted his sleeves. “I suppose that…makes sense.” But he still looked grim.

Up ahead, not quite along their path, stood one of Paris’s parks, gates now open to the public. Apart from some rubbish cluttering the entrance, it seemed well-maintained. Crowley tipped his head, inviting.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and he nodded, the first hint of a smile on his face. It always made Crowley feel light, that smile, however briefly it appeared.

They wandered in silence up the path, lined by trees here, flowerbeds there. Leaves had turned yellow and the grass was edged with brown, but the roses were still in bloom. Crowley paused to pluck a particularly well-formed bud.

As they crossed a bridge over a small watercourse, Aziraphale suddenly said, “Do you think it’s true, though? That — that treatise? Because it rather sounds like he didn’t see any difference between lust and love.”

“Mmh.” Crowley paused, gazing downstream, where a group of ducks swam contentedly. “As a demon? Yeah. Fits the party line. Humans don’t think of anything but their own pleasure, always wanting what they don’t have. Jealous, possessive, until something better comes along. Then it starts all over. If love and lust aren’t the same, well, they’re pretty close, right?”

“I see.” Aziraphale stepped beside him, holding out his red cap, now filled with grains of barley and cracked corn. They each took a handful and tossed it down. The ducks swam over eagerly, bobbing to catch the seeds before they drifted away.

“But as a being who’s been in the world nearly six thousand years?” Crowley threw another handful, then leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. “Not so sure. Humans do too much that can’t be explained by simple pleasure. Besides, I’ve seen what they do when overwhelmed by lust, and what they do when overwhelmed by love and…dunno. S’not the same.”

More handfuls of grains as a second group of ducks approached.

“What d’you think, Angel?” Crowley prodded. “Must be something in all those books you read.”

“Oh, quite a lot,” Aziraphale assured him. “Much of it contradictory. Many poets will only talk about their beloved’s face, or eyes, but if it were simply a matter of beauty, surely everyone would fall in love with the same beauties.”

“Sometimes they do.” Crowley rolled some seeds between his palms. “S’where the jealousy comes in. But yeah. Gotta be more to it than that.”

“I hope you’re not planning to make those poor ducks sink.”

“What? Nk — no. Course not.” He threw the grains down and the ducks quickly swarmed, turning bright shades of pink and blue and violet as they ate.

“Crowley.”

“Oh, it’s not hurting anyone.” He glanced sideways to see Aziraphale pressing his lips together, struggling not to smile. Grinning, Crowley tossed down more enchanted grains. “Go on then.”

“Hmm? Ah, yes. Well, the overall impression is that love is…transformative. Changes the way one thinks and feels at all times. They speak of, oh, the sun shining brighter, foods tasting sweeter, winter blossoming into summer. Metaphors. Others speak of — of attraction, quickened pulse, sudden heat and so on, but that’s a passing thing, part of a — a particular moment of closeness. Surely, no human could maintain such a state for an hour, never mind weeks or years!” Aziraphale offered Crowley the last handful of grain in his cap. “And once that moment passes…”

“Back to the metaphors.” The ducks below were now spotted, striped, every color of the rainbow. One bore pure white wings, beside another with midnight black. Aziraphale chuckled, very softly, which made Crowley feel immensely satisfied. Dusting off his hands, he circled the angel and continued walking.

“Yes,” Aziraphale hurried to catch up, cap twisting in his hands. “I get the sense that the feeling is so obvious, so…universal, they never think to describe it.”

“How inconsiderate.” Crowley thought it over. “So, flash of heat, racing heart, sun gets brighter, then ten pages about the color of their eyes? That about it?”

“I suppose so.” Aziraphale rubbed a finger across his lip. “Not always beauty, though. Some appear drawn by their partner’s clever mind, or acts of kindness. Some praise stories of bravery or great deeds, others fixate on meaningless symbols of wealth. But still, those only tell why one falls in love, not what it feels like.”

“Sounds like a sort of obsession.” Crowley furrowed his brow. “That treatise had a list of…sort of rules of love. Mostly about jealousy, really, don’t think the author thought much of women, but… ‘Every action of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved.’”

“I see…so that, together or apart, one cannot help but think always of the other. That certainly aligns with the evidence.” He started to replace his cap, then paused, looking inside. “Anything else of use?”

“‘Love can deny nothing to love.’” Beside him, Aziraphale turned pink and a brilliant smile broke across his face, like the sun after a storm. He pulled from the cap the bright red rosebud Crowley had hidden within.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale slid the flower into his buttonhole, drinking in the way the delighted shiver ran across his shoulders. Then the angel looked up, hitting Crowley with the full force of his smile.

Stunning. Blinding. It stole Crowley’s breath away, wiped every thought from his mind.

One day, that smile would destroy him, and he wouldn’t mind at all.

“So, this creperie — are we close?”

“Ngh. Smh. Unh. Nearly. Another block or two.” The park’s gate stood just ahead, half shut, the bustling street beyond. Crowley quickly stepped ahead, pulling it open for Aziraphale. “You, ah, find the answer you needed?”

“I…think so, yes.” He rested his fingers on the gate — so close to Crowley’s he could feel their warmth — then quickly pulled away, folding his hands behind his back. “I’ve been trying to work out…well…whether I’m in love with you, Crowley.”

“Oh.” What was he supposed to say to that? “Oh.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale’s eyes darted nervously and he began to pace. “I-I want you to know, I don’t desire you. I’ve never felt that sort of attraction. And I’m not jealous by any means. I’m not even certain who I’m meant to be jealous of. But…” He turned back, tugging his jacket. “I think of you. Constantly. Every action, every experience reminds me of you. I go to a concert, and I can’t concentrate on the music, only whether you would enjoy it. I hear a joke and I imagine how you would laugh, or roll your eyes, and I can’t know a moment’s peace until I’ve shared it with you. And last month…when I was reprimanded…for days afterward I could think of nothing but how I wished you were there. When I finally found the strength to venture out, it was only from my determination to come here.”

“For…crepes?” Crowley offered stupidly.

“No, you silly creature, for you.” He stepped forward, reaching up as if to straighten Crowley’s lapels, but once again his hands dropped. “I hear your voice and no matter how dark my situation — no matter how absurd you look in the current fashion — I just…feel happy again.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and lifted his eyes — hopeful, fearful, vulnerable — to meet Crowley’s.

“Oh.” Something more was probably needed. “Yeah.”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

“Well.” Aziraphale’s eyes dropped and he turned, trying to hide his expression. “Yes. I thought you should know.” He ducked his head and hurried through the gate. “Where — where is this creperie? We should try to arrive—”

“Me too.”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say anything. His mind was still ten minutes behind, struggling to catch up, but the pain on Aziraphale’s face hurt him like a blow to the chest.

The two words stopped Aziraphale in his tracks.

“I…I think about you, too.” Crowley stepped halfway through the gate, gripping the bar so tight it began to bend. “When I wake up, or fall asleep and…and away from you, here, I just…I miss you…but you — you idiot, with your crepes and your — your execution and…and then you smile and I just…” Blast! How could Aziraphale be so eloquent? Crowley swallowed and started over. “Look, m’trying to say…don’t think I can deny you anything. And. If that’s love…yeah. Me too.”

All this time, Aziraphale stood perfectly still, his back to Crowley. But now he turned, blue eyes furiously blinking. “That’s…ah…thank you. I know y-you hate being thanked but…” Aziraphale took one step closer, then another, until only inches separated them. “Thank you.”

“Nh.” He could so easily reach across that last bit of distance. Crowley didn’t know what that would accomplish, what he’d even do, but he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale’s gaze fell. “It…doesn’t change anything, does it? You’re still a demon, and I’m—”

“I don’t care,” Crowley hissed, shocked at the fervor in his own voice. “We don’t need to play by their rules. We could — run off, or—”

“We can’t. Crowley, both our sides would — they’d find us, they’d destroy you.”

“I’m willing to risk it.” He reached for Aziraphale’s hand.

“I’m not.” The angel jerked back, putting more distance between them, eyes wide. “Crowley that’s — that’s not a chance I’m willing to take. I’m sorry, but no.”

“Fine,” Crowley growled, pulling away. “What do you want?”

“I want…” Aziraphale shut his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I want a shop in London, where I can surround myself with books and foods and everything I enjoy. I want my superiors to trust me, let me bring good into the world my own way, without sending me all over Creation at a moment’s notice and — and punishing me for a few miracles to make my life easier. I want us to go to plays and gardens and balls together, not for clandestine meetings but because we enjoy them. To be openly in each other’s company, without fear of reprisal. And…I’d like you to visit my shop and bring me flowers or sweets. I’d serve my very best wine and…we’d talk all night about…everything and nothing. And laugh together.” His eyes fluttered open and for the first time Aziraphale looked sure of himself. “I want what we already have. Only I want more of it.”

This time he didn’t move as Crowley reached out. Long fingers carefully adjusted the rosebud, standing it straighter in its buttonhole. “Yeah. I…I’d like that, too.”

“And you don’t want anything…physical?”

Crowley snorted. “M’not a human.” But he wondered if Aziraphale’s cheek was as soft as the rosebud’s petals. “I’d like to touch you. Your hand, your face. Your wings. Hear your voice as I fall asleep. Feel your fingers in my hair. Is that…too much?”

“No.” Aziraphale smiled gently. “That sounds perfect.”

“Maybe…” Crowley fidgeted with his glasses, shuffled his feet, but refused to step away. “If we’re careful…”

“The Arrangement is already dangerous enough. You must understand…”

Crowley closed his eyes. “I do. Nothing changes.” Except there were words now, to the feeling he had when he thought of his angel. And that changed everything. When he looked again, Aziraphale nodded, as if he felt the same.

“Right then.” Crowley circled around Aziraphale, sauntering back to the main road. “Let’s see if these crepes are worth risking the guillotine.”

“My dear fellow,” Aziraphale easily kept pace. “One bite of true Breton crepes will silence your doubts forever.”

“Breton, huh?”

“Oh, yes, far superior to any others.”

“If that’s so,” Crowley smirked, remembering Aziraphale in his cell, “s’a wonder you came to Paris. Particularly in such a…controversial outfit.”

“The city has…certain other attractions.”

Something warm and heavy wrapped across Crowley’s shoulders, invisible to his eyes, though he could feel the individual feathers tickle his neck. Aziraphale strolled beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward, as if nothing were amiss.

Carefully, trying to look natural, Crowley scratched his shoulder, brushing his knuckles down a long flight feather, softer than any mortal bird’s.

Aziraphale smiled ever so slightly and flexed his wing, holding Crowley a little more tightly. An embrace that no one could see, no one could know about, except them.

“Dunno,” Crowley said. “Still seems pretty risky.”

“Yes. But I’m an incorrigible old fool. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“Suppose I can understand,” Crowley said as he extended his own wing, wrapping it around Aziraphale’s waist. The angel’s composure broke as he wiggled, burying himself in invisible feathers. Crowley smiled, heat running through him, a warm spring day after a long cold winter. “After all, we’re not so different, you and I.”

[1] De Amore, Andreas Capellanus, c. 1190

So happy to finally share this!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ace omens #ineffable husbands #asexual ineffable husbands #ace omens zine #aziraphale #crowley #love confessions #feeding the ducks #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves his angel #what even is love #ace fanfiction #qpp #banter #my writing #ao3 link

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Incredible

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Professor!Spencer sparks a connection with a spunky student. Category: FLUFF (of the spicy variety, so I’d rate it PG-13) Warnings: Adults with age gap (Reader is in her early 20s), language, flirting, making out, a brief mention of oral sex Word Count: 8.7k

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

Full Request: “...Okay so prof/student, and reader is so badass, has tattoos, flirt all the time, but like hate everybody except spencer, and he loves that she is so different, intriguing, dark and touchy? But like everyone in spencer life thinks that she’s using him, because of her grades, and also because they are “so different” but like they love each other, so she makes a big gesture and says fuck all of you, I love him and it’s the only thing that matters, and spencer is like heart eyes” —Anonymous

NOTE: My first go at Professor!Spencer! This is a favorite trope of mine, so I loved finally getting to delve into it myself. I hope I did it justice! Also, the original title for this was “Bad For You” and it was supposed to be a little different, but it went in a different direction than I was intending. I still hope it’s okay though!

***

Truthfully, the first time she showed up in his classroom he had a feeling. It was a feeling he didn't get very often, therefore he wasn't sure what to make of it. All he knew was that when she sat down in the front row, all the way on the right, keeping to herself, he just felt that there was something special about her.

The obvious reasoning behind this newfound feeling was most likely the multiple tattoos that adorned her skin, and the flashy, attention-grabbing makeup that surrounded her eyes and lips, but as the semester progressed, Spencer started to realize her academic confidence was taking hold of most of his attention. Sure, she stood out in the crowd, completely different from anyone else who'd entered his classroom, and without a doubt one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen. But rather than scrolling through her phone while waiting for class to start each morning, she brought out a book to read or notes to study or something else to keep her busy. If anything else, yes, he admired her work ethic, at least what he could see of it.

And as time progressed, he'd come to see her succeeding more in his class than almost anyone else. Under normal circumstances, it would have been all good and plenty, but as it turned out, Y/N was anything but normal.

The first... incident happened not long after the first week of the semester, and a group of other girls were sitting next to Y/N. Class would start in close to five minutes, and students were still filing in while the group was having a rather... interesting conversation.

Spencer had had a feeling about what it was pertaining to, but his suspicions were confirmed the second he heard Y/N's voice, loud and clear.

"For the love of God, if you're gonna talk about him like he's a hot piece of ass right in front of him, you might as well shout it from the rooftops."

He looked up to see she hadn't lifted her head from the book she was reading as she said it, flipping a page half-way through her tangent and looking unbothered, despite the connotations of her words.

Rather than being upset at her, like he figured most girls in their situation would, they all stayed silent the rest of the time and barely looked anyone in the eye.

The moment Y/N realized she had them, Spencer noticed a small smirk on her face.

Class ended about forty minutes later, and just as the bell rang, he called out.

"Uh, Y/N, could I speak to you for a second?"

She looked up at him for a brief second before nodding, and even though mostly everyone in the classroom laid out a chorus of Oooohs, she still managed to look unbothered. In fact, he could have sworn he noticed her roll her eyes for just a split second.

She packed up her things and waited for everyone to leave. And as she approached him finally, Spencer felt a slight twist in his stomach at the way she did it, her expression somewhat worrisome despite her show of confidence earlier.

"Hey," she greeted plainly. Her hands clutched onto the strap of her bag so tightly her tattooed hands looked almost pale.

"Y/N," he greeted back. "I, uh... I'm not sure exactly what happened before class, but—"

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have said anything, it was probably rude embarrass them like that, but it was rude of them to talk about you like that right in front of you."

Spencer paused, not really sure how to respond other than to nod. "Well, uh... I... Thank you, I appreciate that."

"Besides, they're only auditing anyway, it's not like they actually care about the subject. I mean, c'mon, if you're gonna verbally daydream about sucking your professor's dick while he's standing right in front of you, you should at least have the decency to give a shit about what he's taking time out of his day to teach you."

Well... That certainly hasn't been what he was expecting. With eyes wide and hands starting to sweat, Spencer tried to think of how to respond, but came up short. But he had to say something, so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I appreciate your honesty."

Y/N smiled at him. It was a genuine smile that he hadn't seen, and he wished he could see it a thousand times over.

"Well, then, Sir, can I tell you something in all honesty?"

"Always."

She looked him up and down for a moment, his heart involuntarily swelling at the way her eyes raked over him with somewhat of a mischievous gleam. "You are a hot piece of ass. And I give a shit about what you're taking time out of your day to teach me. Thank you for that."

Without another word, she turned away and walked off, leaving him with a dropped jaw that slowly transformed into an amused smile.

Two days later, a Friday to be exact, Y/N showed up a few minutes early as she had every Friday prior. Spencer turned to give her a kind smile, but she didn't look up. She promptly sat down in her seat and got out a book, finding her page and leaning back in her seat.

He didn't want to interrupt, but still he offered a bright, "Good morning," and took the chance that she might offer him a greeting back.

She did glance up from her book, following it with a little smirk and a wink. And just as quickly as it came and went, she started reading again, almost as if the greeting had never happened.

"What are you reading?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Y/N didn't look up this time. But she said, "The Da Vinci Code."

"Oh," he responded, happy he'd even gotten an answer at all. "I've never heard of it."

This time she did look up. And she looked highly amused. "You've never heard of The Da Vinci Code? Not even the movie?"

Since they were looking at each other now, Spencer only shook his head.

"Seriously?" Y/N pressed, tilting her head to the side.

"Seriously. What's it about?"

She simply stared at him some more, and he figured it was still shock over his cluelessness when it came to The Da Vinci Code, but something about the look on her face said it was something else. Something more... devious.

Finally, she said, "I'm not gonna tell you." And then she went back to reading.

He should have left it at that, should have just moved on, but he couldn't help himself. So he pressed further. "Why not?"

Y/N looked up again, and then she closed the book. "Because if it's seriously taken you this long to even hear the name of the book, or the movie, then maybe it's just not your thing."

"Well, Y/N, truth be told, there's a lot in modern pop culture that I don't know about, so... That might not be true."

The two of them held gazes for a few seconds, just completely... captivated by each other in ways neither of them had experienced or could explain. He was in awe of her blunt and snarky presence, and she was utterly taken with his modern naivete.

When she repeated his words from the day before, "I appreciate your honesty," and smiled wickedly at him, he smiled back and almost fell to his knees.

Then students started to come into class and Y/N looked down at her book, which she seemed to have forgotten that she closed, because she actually blushed and fumbled getting it open quickly, obviously not as smooth as she'd always been.

The sight made Spencer's heart flutter.

Once class ended, he looked up to see Y/N standing at his desk and holding out her book. "Here. You should read it."

"Oh, I—I can find my own copy, I— You're reading it, I couldn't..."

Y/N huffed a laugh. "I've read it like five times already, I practically have the entire thing memorized. Just give it back when you're done."

He took the book with a smile. "Well, I have just a bit of paperwork to get done, but after that I'm good to go, so if you come by at the end of the day, I can give it to you then."

She blinked at him, and for a few moments neither of them said anything.

"Oh, I, uh... I read fast," is all Spencer said to explain himself.

Y/N nodded and glanced up at the clock above his head. "Oh. Ha. Right, of course you do. Um, I'll, uh... I'll come back, then. Professor."

The title falling from her lips would have ruined him completely had she stayed any longer, but again, she walked away without another word or glance, and it left him breathless.

There was a point, later on in the day when she came back to get her book, where he'd left her equally as breathless.

He was flipping through pages at light speed, and he didn't even notice her come in and sit down in the chair across from his desk. She sat there for a good two minutes, just watching him flipping pages and muttering silent words to himself, completely unaware of her presence. She'd seen him concentrating before, grading papers while the class was taking quizzes and such, but she'd never been able to study him for more than a few seconds at a time, and as she'd deduced before, it was extremely captivating.

He was extremely captivating. And she told him as much.

Kind of.

"Look at you go," she mused, leaning forward on his desk and resting her chin in her hands.

Spencer jumped, sliding the book so it hit her elbows, and she laughed.

"Y/N, you scared me!" he gasped, clutching at his chest with his right hand. "Ho—how long have you been there?"

"A few minutes. I would've stopped you but you looked like you were in the zooone." Her fingers wiggled and tapped across her cheeks as her face still rested in her palms. A huge smile played at her lips, and despite almost being scared to death, Spencer found himself growing warmer at her amused self.

"Yeah, I guess I was," he stated, bringing his hands to slide the book back to him. He looked down at it for a moment before smiling. "I was actually re-reading it for a third time. After the first I went back to look at the notes I took, and after going through them pretty thoroughly I applied some..."

As he rambled on about the process in which he read, Y/N found herself in an even deeper trance than before. She wished more than anything that she could have payed attention to his words, so she could have a discussion about her favorite book with him, but his passion and commitment to something he didn't even know about until earlier in the day, much less something she of all people just threw at him, was just so...

"Doctor Reid?" she interrupted, almost slipping out of her hands when he stopped and tilted his head, suddenly invested in what she had to say. "Can I stop you for a second?"

"Oh.. Was I going too far? I'm sorry, as you know I tend to ramble quite a bit sometimes, and I know it can be a bit much..."

"No, that's not it. I've... gotta be honest with you about something."

"Hmm?"

She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table and searching his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "I didn't hear a single word you just said. And I promise it's not because I'm not interested in having this conversation about The Da Vinci Code, it's... something else."

"What's wrong?"

He seemed genuinely concerned, and equally as clueless, and it did things to her insides that she hadn't felt with anyone in... well, ever.

"What's wrong is that I hate everybody. Well, hate is a strong word, and I only mean pretty much everybody that goes to school here, anyway, and it's been that way ever since my Freshman year. And yet... Somehow, I end up with this class, and in almost no time at all you've managed to learn more about me than anyone I've ever met in my three years here."

"Well... I—I'm an educator, I... it's my job to somewhat know my students."

"No, it's your job to teach me. Any other professor would have chewed my ass for saying what I said the other day, and instead you... well... I don't really know what that was the other day, but I didn't get in trouble for it. And then today you actively asked me about what I was reading and genuinely took interest in something you'd never even heard of before... And then you..." She threw her hands in the air. "You fucking read my favorite book three whole times in one day and took notes on it... Seriously, who... Who are you?"

Spencer wasn't sure what to say. Especially when all he wanted to do in that moment was tell her to keep talking to him. He found that he loved when she talked. Even when she was trying to figure him out, to understand why she'd been completely flipped inside and out by a man that was at least 20 years older than her.

Especially considering that on paper, the two of them didn't look like a conventional pair. He was tall, lean, and structurally beautiful in all the right ways, where as she was closed off and beautifully stand-offish. His skin was clear of anything and hers was adorned with tens of tattoos. His clothes were always formal and neat, while hers consisted of only jeans and plain tees and long sleeves.

If anyone saw them together, it wouldn't have made sense.

They both knew this, and yet...

"I am... utterly enchanted by you," Spencer said without thinking. He didn't have to. it was the truth.

Y/N's shoulders slumped, as if some sort of weight had been lifted from them. She smirked a little. "And I am... strangely not indifferent to you."

"Uh... Thanks?"

She laughed, genuinely laughed, and stood up. "That's a compliment, Doctor. A very good compliment."

That mischievous smile of hers returned, and it made his stomach turn over again, his own smile never wavering, and conveying every sense of wonderment that it could.

"I know this might be... unprofessional... And we definitely shouldn't do anything on school property, but... Would you maybe want to, uh... go get coffee or something some time this weekend?" he asked, trying his hardest not to feel small around her big personality.

"What, to discuss The Da Vinci Code, or to go on a date?"

By the look on her face, it was obvious that she knew they couldn't call it a date. As long as they were professionally involved like this, an actual date could never be on the table. But it seemed to be in her... rather playful nature to suggest it anyway.

The thought made his heart flutter again. Still, he said simply with a knowing smile, "To discuss The Da Vinci Code."

She nodded, throwing her bag over her shoulder and getting ready to leave. "Fine. But just so you're aware, there won't be anything stopping me from zoning out and staring at your beautiful face from time to time."

With all the truth in the world, he said, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

***

His middle finger tapped incessantly on the cool, wood surface of the picnic table in the park. It wasn't ideal to meet this far away from the nearest parking lot, but the little spot was far enough away that he was positive no one would see him meeting his student for lunch—a lunch she offered to bring despite his insisting on paying for food. In the end, it was clear that Y/N was more stubborn than he was.

That excited him.

Speaking of excitement, the moment he spotted her walking into sight, his heart rate picked up. And at the powerful surge of butterflies that swarmed in his stomach, he mentally berated himself for even feeling that way.

This was not a date.

And just when he thought he had things under control, she finally reached the table, set down a brown paper bag, and flashed him the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. Her hair was up in a low ponytail with small strands of hair sticking out and blowing in the light breeze. She wore jeans and a tight lavender tee shirt that ended just above her navel, and it had the word "Wednesday" printed on it in black block letters. It wasn't Wednesday, which equally confused and amused him, though because he'd already found her personality amusing enough, what she wore didn't matter.

Except... the more he took her in the more it really did matter, because he noticed more tattoos, which where usually covered with long sleeves and jackets, most likely as requested by the university. But under the soft glow of the September sun, he could clearly see a collage of tattoos running up her left side, disappearing under her shirt. Where it ended, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't dwell on it for too long, or he was afraid the mental images would turn his brain to mush.

Obviously he couldn't do that.

"Hey'a, Professor," she said with a little wink as she took a seat across from him.

"P—please. Outside the classroom, just Spencer is fine."

She gave him a knowing smirk and simply stated, "Okay," though there was nothing simple about it. Her words had an effect on him, and she knew how to play them to her advantage.

But she was apparently in the mood to be nice today, at least for now. Because she peeled back her playful tone and revealed something more friendly. Simple. She tilted the bag towards him and nodded.

"I brought us some subs, as requested. I hope I got your order right."

"I'm sure it's fine. Thank you."

Attempting to keep his cool around her, Spencer remained quiet as they ate. He also avoided looking at her for too long, because every time he did catch her eye she was staring at him, obviously amused as she finished off her sandwich.

But of course, at some point one of them needed to speak. Right?

So he took a sip of water and cleared his throat. "It's uh... It's really nice out today, yeah?"

Y/N laughed, tilting her head to the side and giving him a look that almost sent him flying backwards. "If that was you attempting to break the ice, Spencer, it was completely adorable... If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous."

"I—No, I'm not nervous, wh—why would you think that?"

"Because you can barely look me in the eye, and then the first thing you say to me when we're finished eating is about the weather..."

She raised her eyebrow then, giving him ample opportunity to explain. So he sighed, a rather embarrassed laugh escaping his lips. "I'm sorry, it's just... You're kind of intimidating."

She gave another laugh, one that made his heart soar higher every time he heard it. "Oh please! You're my hot professor, if anything you should be the intimidating one here."

It was his turn to laugh. "Y/N, believe me, if you really knew me, you'd know I'm probably one of the least intimidating people on the planet."

There was a long pause before she nodded, a soft smile forming on her lips. "Well, then, maybe I should get to know you..."

Despite the tugging in the back of his mind that said it was a bad idea to form this close of a relationship with one of his students, especially one who made him feel all warm and fiery inside, he found himself smiling back in agreement.

***

The sun was setting by the time Spencer walked her back to her car. And after dropping off their garbage at one of the public trash bins, he found the walk rather calming. The breeze picked up a bit, somewhat settling the fire in the pit of his stomach as she talked to him about The Da Vinci Code. And then there was the fact that they'd actually spent hours talking, so much so that they hadn't even realized how late it had gotten. Needless to say, it was extremely rare for Spencer to find that type of connection to someone, the type that allowed him to speak back and forth so easily and without regret or embarrassment.

He was thinking about how nice that was when they finally stopped. In front of a motorcycle.

"Is... Wait, this is yours?" he asked her, obviously shocked but more disappointed that he hadn't guessed sooner, and probably a little too turned on than was appropriate.

"Yep," Y/N said proudly, tapping the glinting black metal. "It was a high school graduation present from my mom. She and I used to build motorcycles when I was growing up, and when we moved to the city it got pushed to the backburner. But I love this bike, I ride it everywhere."

"That's... Wow. That's nice." It was really all he could think to say as he looked at the bike and nowhere else. Because if he looked at her, especially standing next to the bike, it was sure to spell out disaster.

"So, where'd you park?" Y/N asked, pulling him from his trance.

"O—Oh. Um, I didn't. I took the train."

He didn't fully realize the weight of his words until a devious smile played at her lips. "Oh? Well... Do you want a ride home?"

"No! Uh... No, I can... I can take the train, it's not a big deal. Th—thank you though."

Despite his better judgement, Spencer looked up at her, and before him was a beautiful young woman with a gleam in her eyes and a pout on her lips that would have destroyed any man in a matter of seconds. Her hand was outstretched, dangling a shiny silver helmet from her fingers. It glinted in the soft orange glow of the sunset, tempting him in the most evil way possible.

"You've been so good to me, Professor. Let me take you home."

At this point, he had no idea whether or not she meant her words to sound as seductive as he'd heard them. His brain screamed, No! but... In the end he knew she was only being nice. She had to be... But it's not safe! Do you know how many motorcycle accidents there are per year?

Before he could stop himself, he sighed and took the helmet from her hands. "A—Are you sure?"

All his reservations were worth it to see the beaming, toothy smile that she gave him right then. "Of course! Besides, who wants to ride the train home for the thousandth time when you could ride a kickass motorcycle instead?"

He put the helmet on, laughing along with her though deep inside he was more than a little terrified. He'd never been on a motorcycle before— it wasn't ever something he thought about. And now he was about to get on the back of one with his student, who had tattoos and spunk and just about everything he didn't. She was incredibly pretty and smart, and now he was learning that she was a total badass in somewhat of a traditional sense as well.

Y/N climbed onto the bike and nodded at him to get on behind her. Thankfully she wasn't able to see how incredibly awkward he felt getting on, scooting up to press himself to her back and figuring out where to rest his hands.

"A couple rules," she said, taking the key from her pocket. "One: I need to know where you live."

"O—Oh, right."

He told her and then she nodded. "Good. I know where that is. Rule two: Try not to adjust yourself too much, it could throw us off. But honestly you don't have to worry about that. As long as you hang on to me, you'll be just fine."

"O—Okay. How should I, um..."

With a small laugh, Y/N reached behind her and grabbed his arms, bringing them around to her front. His stomach flipped at her touch, even long after it was gone.

"Hang on as tight as you need to, got it?" she called to him

"Okay."

"Good. Now. Final rule. Have fun. Look around. Feel the wind in your hair."

"But I'm wearing a helmet..."

Y/N started the bike then, and he jumped, bringing himself closer and squeezing her tightly. His face nestled into her neck as best as he could without distracting her, though she didn't seem phased by it in the least.

"You know what I mean," she called out to him. "You ready, Professor?"

"I think so!" he called back, squeezing his eyes shut despite her final rule.

"Alright, we're off!"

The bike lurched forward a few seconds later, and it took everything Spencer had not to yelp. He wasn't sure how tightly he clung to Y/N but as long as they were still going, he figured it was okay.

It was colder suddenly, and he knew that they were moving at a decent speed. So he took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes, seeing buildings and trees go by in a flash. But the longer they rode around town, the easier he found it to breathe. While his grip around Y/N's front was still fairly tight, he'd definitely loosened up a little, and she could tell. His head was turning from side to side, looking at just about everything he could, and she couldn't see it, but he was smiling wide the whole time.

It was exhilarating. It was fun. And he couldn't remember the last time he had this much genuine fun, all worries completely erased from the mind and replaced with silent whoops of joy.

And then they stopped outside his apartment, and once the loud rumbling of the bike silenced, leaving his ears with a low thumping beat that raced alongside his heart, Spencer finally loosened his grip on Y/N completely. He got off the bike and whipped the helmet off, blood rushing through his veins like he'd just fallen out of an airplane.

He paced on the sidewalk, waiting for Y/N to put the bike in park and get off, and truthfully she was a little nervous. It was definitely weird giving your professor a ride home on your motorcycle, not to mention the added obvious sexual tension between you that shouldn't be there at all. She wondered if maybe she crossed a line, and she chewed her lip nervously as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Spencer?" she called out softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm..." He stopped pacing and ran his hands through his hair, which was already pretty wild after being under the helmet— which was currently on the sidewalk.

Great, Y/N thought, I fucked up big time...

But he laughed, a wide smile adorning his pretty features as he looked at her. "I'm fantastic! Y/N, that was.. I can't believe I've never done that before! We weren't even going that fast, but it felt like we were flying!" He laughed then, the sound bringing a relieved smile to her face. And then he took a step closer to her and the relief quickly transformed into genuine joy and contentment.

"That was... incredible," Spencer breathed, his smile never faltering. "You... You're incredible."

She was going to thank him, but before she could say anything he strode to her in two steps and brought her face to his in a searing kiss.

Searing... That's exactly what it was, too. Y/N whimpered into his mouth at his intensity, the way his hands dwarfed the sides of her head and the way his lips moved feverishly against hers. She slipped her hands into his back pockets and brought him closer, her touch jolting him forward and walking them back over to the bike. They stumbled a bit before Y/N was able to gently lean against it.

Meanwhile Spencer couldn't contain himself. By now he was consumed in this fire that she'd set within him, burning down his every defense and sense of logic. He couldn't get enough of her, the way her hands kneaded his ass through his pockets, and how her tongue perfectly collided with his in every way. Each little moan and whimper she let out into his mouth spurred him forward until his fingers were threading into her hair, loosening her ponytail and no doubt gently tugging at her scalp.

If that bothered her, she didn't let on, her hunger matching his in every way.

Eventually, though, she felt herself leaning back too much, and she brought her hands out of his pockets to gently brace herself on the bike, steadying them.

But that didn't slow them down in the least. Truthfully, they weren't sure if they'd ever stop, drinking each other up right there as a few cars went by and the sun set behind them.

It wasn't until Spencer moved one of his hands down to her hip, searching for bare skin, fingers slowly sliding their way farther up her side, when a chorus of, "Ow ow owwww"s and whistles and hollers sounded behind them. He pulled away rather quickly, Y/N's teeth pulling at his bottom lip before he saw a truck full of teenagers whizzing past. They honked their horn and continued hollering until they rounded the corner, and by then the fire in his veins had significantly simmered.

He stepped away from her completely, combing through his hair and blinking, trying to collect his thoughts. But they came out as a jumbled mess. "I'm.. We shouldn't ha... I'm sorry... Y/N, that..."

"I—I know..." is all she said, still bracing herself on the bike.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying hard not to look at her. She was obviously rattled, though he thought she didn't mind. In fact, he was pretty sure by the way she was looking at him right then that she was ready to continue what they started, though she didn't do anything about it.

She did say, though, "It's okay. I'll, uh... See you Monday."

"Y—Yeah. Monday... Thanks f—for the ride."

His whole body was numb, fuzzy as she finally moved, walking over to her helmet and picking it up. She put it on and sat on the bike, putting the key in ignition before turning to him one last time and saying two words that sure enough ignited the fire again.

"Anytime, Spencer."

Long after she sped off around the corner, out of sight but most certainly not out of mind, he stood there on the sidewalk, his lips burning and his heart racing.

***

He wasn't sure what to expect on Monday, save for inevitable awkwardness between them, but he certainly wasn't expecting to see Y/N walk into the classroom early that morning with a box in her hands.

"Before you say anything, I just want to disclose that I'm willing to not make things weird," she announced as she made her way over to his desk. She set the box down, revealing six chocolate-frosted donuts with sprinkles. "You said you liked these the other day, so I brought some as a gift... You know, to... apologize."

"Oh, Y/N, you... You don't hav—"

"No. Please, just... Look, I didn't realize it at the time, because for a moment you weren't my professor, you were... You were my friend. And I know now that insisting to let me take you home was less than professional, and I'm sorry. I really was just trying to be nice, but I... I shouldn't have..."

"Y/N, I... kissed you... I'm the one who should apologize for being unprofessional. Really, I don't... I don't know what happened, I just..."

"Adrenaline... You... You were exhilarated and happy, and there was obvious chemistry between us that wouldn't have gotten that far if I hadn't asked you to hop on my bike, so... I'm sorry."

They both looked around, hoping it was still too early for anyone to show up, and then Spencer sighed, looking down at the donuts. "I shouldn't have asked you to lunch in the first place. I... I do want to have a connection with my students, but that's not... That wasn't my intention. I crossed a line I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry."

Y/N sighed, taking a donut from the box. "You know, we can't keep apologizing back and forth like this... So... Can we call it even? We're both sorry, we both fucked up, and we both promise to... act like it never happened?"

"Is... that what you want?" he asked softly, not entirely bringing his head up to look at her, but looking at her through his eyelashes.

His gaze sent a course of butterflies through her stomach, and she hated it. She hated that she was growing fond of her hot professor and that she couldn't stop thinking about his lips on hers and what they'd feel like roaming other places on her body— more specifically, over the tattoos on her skin that she always found him staring at from time to time. She hated that he was charming and pretty and smart, and she hated that he gave a shit about her.

That's why her throat burned like acid when she lied. "Yes. That's what I want."

And for the sake of professionalism, he was inclined to believe her, even though deep down his heart knew that she was lying to him. "Alright then. Thank you for the donuts."

She smiled, trying not to shake as she held her donut up in the air. "Anytime, Professor."

Then she took a bite and walked to her seat, the two of them eating in silence while they waited for class to start

***

The next two weeks went by seemingly slower and slower by the second. If it were a normal situation, Spencer and Y/N going back to their normal student-teacher routine would have been a good thing. And in a way, it most certainly was. However, they both felt plagued by their distance in a way that hadn't been so daunting in a long time.

Almost every day the girls behind Y/N would continue talking about their professor (quieter this time, though still loud enough that she could hear for herself). And every time they did, her thoughts inevitably dragged back to his lips on hers, soft and hard all at the same time, a feeling she knew she'd never be able to experience again. And then she'd glance up at him, seeing him concentrate as he graded papers or read a book, and her insides would burn once more, a reminder of everything she couldn't have.

Likewise, Spencer would be lecturing, glance over at Y/N by happenstance, and that low simmer returned to his veins, begging him to turn back now or re-enter the dark cloud of desire that threatened to ruin his career. He was thankfully able to recover quickly, though not without trying to quell the heat that flooded through his body at the remembrance of her kisses.

Each day was like a ticking time bomb. They waited until the semester was over— hopefully they wouldn't have to see each other and all could have been forgotten. But the days didn't want to fly. They wanted to ride on the back of a snail, just slugging along until it was almost painful to experience.

Even still, Spencer and Y/N went about their days until the semester was one week away from finishing.

It was Monday, class was just about to end, and then he called her over while everyone was chatting amongst themselves.

To say she was nervous was an understatement. Nonetheless, she made her way to his desk with as much normalcy as possible, and the closer she got to him, the warmer she got. It was exhausting, really.

"What's up?" she asked blankly.

"I just wanted to... congratulate you on your work. Truthfully, you've exceeded just about everyone else in terms of quiz and test scores, your work ethic is above average from what I've seen in most students... You're smart,, and you know the material really well. And... A colleague of mine and I are attending a seminar on profiling in New York, and I think you should come with. Present your final essay to the group."

Y/N blinked a few times. "Wait... You're serious?"

"Mhm. I've showed your work to my colleagues and they're all impressed by you. I'm... not exactly sure what your plans for your future are, but I really think you have something special here. And if... If it's not something that interests you, at least consider coming to the seminar anyway. Regardless, your work is exceptional and I think you should be proud of it. I... I know I am..."

The bell rang then, and everyone filtered out as Y/N stood there awkwardly, thinking everything over.

"I don't need an answer right away, but the seminar is on Saturday, so any time before then would be great. Think about it?"

She looked around to make sure no one was around before speaking, her throat tight. "You're not... just saying this because of... what we did? I mean, you really think I'm... I'm good enough to do this?"

Spencer's eyes softened, and against his better judgement, he reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. "I really do. I wasn't lying, you're exceptionally smart and you really could have a future in the FBI, not even as a profiler if you don't want to. But as always, it's your decision. All I'm asking is that you take some time to think about it. Is that okay?"

Y/N always knew that despite the attraction they had to each other, Spencer was a professional first, and he always did encourage her in her studies. She knew he saw something in her, something bright and worth teaching, worth growing, and in that moment, that's what his eyes conveyed. He truly believed in her, not because—or even in spite—of the forbidden moments and feelings they shared, but in addition to them. If anything their feelings were considered the addition here. Because while, yes, their bodies were buzzing at proximity to one another, their heads and their hearts were more connected in that moment than anything, with sheer understanding and care and belief for one another that extended past physical attraction.

Y/N smiled, nodding. "Okay. But I don't need to think about it. I'll go."

"Are you sure? You really don't have to say yes if you don't wa—"

"Yes. I'm sure. A—And thank you, Sp—ah, Professor. I... Thank you." She laughed a little, possibly the most flushed she'd ever been around him, and it made him smile

"Of course."

***

One thing they didn't really put into consideration was the fact that the semester was now over.

It was Saturday, the morning of the seminar, and Y/N was scheduled to fly with Spencer and his colleague, Doctor Tara Lewis, to New York City. Currently, Dr. Lewis was asleep, on the other side of the jet, and Y/N and Spencer were left awake, sitting across from each other and completely buzzing with energy.

You could see why this might have been a problem they hadn't considered.

Y/N wasn't technically his student anymore, and they'd became well aware of the fact after she showed up at the BAU, where she met the rest of Spencer's co-workers and friends. His family, from all she'd heard. And there was a conversation she couldn't help but overhear after they were soon set to leave.

"Now I know why you really brought her along." The voice belonged to Luke Alvez. She was sure of it— his voice was hard to forget. Especially when it was laced with suggestion.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

As cute as his cluelessness was, Y/N couldn't help the bubbles of nerves that erupted throughout her body like a torpedo shooting through water.

"You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, man. Sure, she's smart, and we all know it. But if what you've told us is true, she's also Mystery Motorcycle Mama."

"Wha—How do you know that?" Spencer exclaimed, obviously a little worried. Y/N couldn't say she blamed him.

"Oh, come on, a woman looking like that shows up, you expect me not to believe she's the one you made out with on the street? It wasn't hard to figure out."

The fact that he'd even told someone about that made her nerves rise. She'd wanted to talk to her mom about it for weeks but thought it might have caused trouble, too scared to even think about it.

Luke quelled some of the nervous tension though, when he said, "Don't worry about it, first of all, no one is going to say anything. Okay, and secondly, technically she's not your student anymore... What's stopping you?"

"W— She's a student, first of all, and... I don't know, we've finally gotten back to normal, I don't... I don't want to jeopardize that, especially now that we're going on this... trip together..."

This trip together... Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, suddenly feeling a little warmer and a whole lot more anxious. It wasn't bad, though, more thoughtful. If anything she was interested to see how he'd react around her now that their professional relationship had somewhat come to a halt.

And now they were staring at each other on the jet. Y/N's fingers tapped gently against the table while Spencer's knee bounced rapidly. They were only twenty minutes out, and since they were on the jet it wouldn't be a long flight. But once again, time wouldn't fly. The only difference was, now there was nothing really standing in their path aside from the obvious taboo of it all. People always heard about teachers that got with former students, and it was always so scandalous.

And while it was obvious that they wouldn't be able to publicly say they were 'together', there was something like a barrier between them that had been shattered, or at least see-through in a way that it hadn't been before. It was a little easier to breathe, even, though they still somehow managed to take each others' breath away. It was always just a look, a little smile in the other person's direction, and all ability to function was gone.

The fact that they were still so captivated by each other, even through all the awkwardness and worry, was something that gave them hope. Hope that once this was all over and there was absolutely nothing stopping them from being together, they could still find their way back, and be just as connected to and enchanted by each other as they'd always been.

But for now, at least, they still had this seminar, something he'd only invited her to because of her academic achievements. And because of that, whatever happened between them had to be strictly professional

As if they hadn't already spent almost an entire semester repressing their feelings and only visiting each other in dreams.

***

The group spent the majority of the day getting a tour of the campus they were visiting. Their actual presentations wouldn't start until 7pm, where they'd speak in an auditorium that very much reminded Spencer of his own classroom.

After lunch, some more touring, and then dinner, the three of them found themselves back at their rooms, going over the material. Of course, Tara and Spencer were naturals since they'd both done a handful of teaching, but Y/N was nervous. She'd never given a big presentation like this before, even if it was only just reading sections of her essay that coincided with what Tara and Spencer were talking about.

"It's dumb," she said, slamming her papers on Tara's bed. "I shouldn't be this nervous about reading in front of people, especially since I'm such a goddamned delight in regular conversation."

Tara laughed. "You'll be great, I promise. You've read through it a million times, and even if you don't have it memorized, it'll be right there for you if you need it."

"I... I know." She started pacing a little, trying to even out her breathing. "But I... I've never done anything like this before and I... I don't want to mess up. I mean, Spencer believes in me, enough to have wanted me here, and I don't want... I don't want to let him down."

"You won't. Do... you know how I know?"

Y/N shook her head and sat down next to Tara, smoothing out the skirt she had on. She never wore skirts. She could have worn pants, but something pulled her to the short black fabric, and right now she didn't want to think about what that was. All she wanted to do was focus on calming her nerves.

"I know because... in the little amount of time that I've known you, I can tell how dedicated you are. How strong and smart you are. You know how to hold a room, and you know how to talk to people. And it helps that you know what you're talking about... You do know what you're talking about, right?"

Y/N laughed, genuinely laughed, and nodded.

"Then there you go. You'll be a natural."

The fact that one of Spencer's colleagues, whom he seemed to trust wholeheartedly, believed in her just as much, saw the same talent and dedication that he did, eased her troubled mind quite easily. She thought the worst was over, and to some degree it was.

She wasn't nervous anymore, worried that she'd disappoint Spencer, though when he knocked, came into her and Tara's room, and stopped, looking Y/N up and down with an enrapturement she hadn't seen on anyone's face before, her stomach dropped.

That look? It had been precisely why her mind begged her to put the skirt on instead of the pants.

The black velvet fabric was tight and ended mid-thigh, revealing half of a tattoo she had hidden— black and lavender flowers that matched the color of her blouse. It was a long-sleeve turtleneck that covered the tattoos on her arms and neck, but hugged her figure beautifully. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, loose strands framing the front of her face and big golden hoops dangling from her ears. Her face was completely void of the vivid makeup she always wore, replaced with a shiny, sheer lip gloss and simple eyeliner and mascara. The one thing that stood out, other than the tattoos visible on her thigh and her hands, was a golden eyebrow ring that glinted under the dim light of the hotel bedroom.

She was easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

And he had to stop himself from falling to his knees as he cleared his throat to talk. "Um, it's time to go."

The two of them were glad to have Tara as a buffer, because her "Alright, let's get going," while ushering them out the door made breathing a little easier.

So yes, Y/N certainly wasn't nervous about speaking in front of the crowd anymore. Rather, she was eager to see how focused Spencer would be during the presentation. It was hard enough for him to teach whenever she wore a particularly low-cut top in class—of course she noticed—so seeing her that closely, having her right there within his reach as they taught together, presented a jolt of excitement that gave her an extra boost of confidence.

Admittedly, though, the way she felt his eyes burn into her every cell made it extremely hard to concentrate on anything.

Nonetheless, Y/N, Spencer, and Tara eventually found themselves standing in front of maybe fifty people, students and administrators alike. Y/N swallowed hard, trying to push down any nerves that arose just then, but a soft hand at her lower back centered her.

"You're going to be great," Spencer whispered in her ear, his thumb gently stroking her back. She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling... thankful, in more ways than one.

The actual presentation itself was a breeze. With one encouraging nod from both Spencer and Tara, Y/N stood at one of the podiums and read off sections of her essay with clarity and confidence. Even though it was only a few paragraphs at a time, few and far in between when coupled with Spencer and Tara's detailed, more experienced presentations, Y/N was immensely proud of herself.

She felt like she belonged there. Not like in school, where everybody judged her because she was a loner. Here she didn't stand out, at least not in a jarring or negative way.

And Spencer could see all of it. As she stood there, speaking to the crowd, he took in her confidence, basking in it like it was the sun. Like she was the sun.

They took questions for a few minutes, and Y/N was obviously a little rattled, not expecting to get any questions of her own. But she answered each one with grace, practically beaming with pride and accomplishment.

***

Under the dim streetlights and with glittering snow behind her, she looked absolutely angelic.

Y/N and Spencer offered to wait outside while Tar talked with some of the administrators about coming back sometime in the Spring. But chances are, Y/N wouldn't be there, so Spencer wasn't even sure that he cared to come back. At least not right then, watching her pace around happily in the snow, her smile as wide and as radiant as he'd ever seen it.

"That was... I can't believe I did that!" She was in complete awe, and it reminded him of the day he hopped off her motorcycle and went on a similar tangent. The feeling of a rush, of pure, unadulterated joy... "I mean, I can because you believed in me, and I know it's probably kind of dumb to be this excited about a presentation, but like... I did it! I was..."

"You were a natural," Spencer mused, feeling his whole body warm at the sight of her smiling at him.

She stepped closer and closer, nodding. "I felt incredible."

"You are incredible..."

Once again they found themselves on the sidewalk, completely unbothered and so taken with each other it was hard to breathe.

And then she stepped forward and kissed him, much like he'd kissed her. Their lips melded like they'd never left in the first place, and that familiarity between them added fuel to an already significant flame.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair and reveled in his reciprocation as his tongue gently opened her mouth further. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her as tightly to him as he possibly could. And when she melted into him, giving herself over to him completely, he finally felt peace. Right then there was no worry, no awkwardness or burning tension that ate at him until he wasn't sure he could contain himself anymore... He simply just... was. He provided her with warmth and comfort, and in turn she provided him with a feeling of excitement... Of adventure and genuine fun and joy.

He never wanted to let her go.

While there wasn't a truck full of teenagers to break them out of their spell with whooping and hollering, there was a one Doctor Tara Lewis who cleared her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, highly amused. Meanwhile Spencer and Y/N split apart, refusing to look at her. "You ready to go?"

"Uh huh," Y/N said, at the same time Spencer said, "Yep."

Tara laughed, patting both of them on the shoulder as she walked in front of them.

Normally, they would have stayed apart from now on, but the only person they knew who could expose them was already there, and she clearly had no intentions of saying anything to hurt them.

So, Spencer reached out for Y/N's tattooed hand, and she took it gladly, staying close to him as they walked the two blocks to their hotel.

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore

TAGS NOT WORKING: @takeyourleap-of-faith

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get to it!

#mercy 1k celebration #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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i-readtoo-much · 3 years

Text

Oops my finger slipped.

Wait, does this make me a writer now?

Tom x reader

Warnings: fluff, messing with Harry (poor Harry), a couple suggestive sentences, some swears, bad writing. Also this dialogue is about as American as it gets so I apologize in advance.

“You know what the most annoying thing is? Tom and Y/N.”

A mix of agreements fill the room as the boys sit on the sectional with their eyes focused on the game in front of them. Harry continued complaining as his fingers mashed the buttons on his controller in an effort to not die, letting out a slight curse when he got hit.

“Most of the time I just want to shout at them to get their heads out of their asses.”

Harrison replied with his own remark.

“I know, it’s so obvious they like each other. Why won’t they just admit it already?”

Tuwaine and Harry shook their heads in agreement. Suddenly, and rather inconveniently, the subjects of their complaints walk through the door, completely oblivious to the grumbles from the three boys in the living room. Laughing and bumping into each other, they set their bags in the kitchen and finally look to greet the rest of the Holland and co. residence.

“You guys are in the exact same spot as when we left. Have you moved at all?”

The girl continued to unpack her bags as she made her sarcastic jab. Harrison quickly replied with his defense.

“Yes, I went to the bathroom earlier. Therefore, I moved.”

Tom finally chimed in after putting their coats away and walking back into the kitchen, letting his arm brush across Y/N’s waist, just out of site from the boys. He met her eyes before commenting:

“Congrats, you walked ten steps. What are you guys playing anyway?”

“Well if you stopped staring at your girlfriend you would see.”

Tuwaine barked out a laugh as Harrison ‘oooo’ed at the chide. Y/N, playing along, poking at Tom’s side and muttering her own teasing remark, making Tom chuckle.

“Well if you guys are going to continue being dicks, Y/N and I are going to watch a movie.”

Scooping up the snacks they could, the pair began their trip upstairs to Tom’s room. The latter sticking up his middle finger to the trio watching them walk away.

The thing is: Tom and Y/N were already dating. They had been for almost a year. The boys are just too dumb to notice. They never really made an official announcement since they didn’t think it was a big deal. But apparently that meant that they weren’t dating at all. The three just thought they were too shy to admit their feelings. Realizing this, Tom and Y/N decided to play along just to see how far it could go. It wasn’t until one day where Tuwiane finally caught on

Tuwaine had actually suspected something for awhile, but kept his thoughts to himself. Mostly for his own amusement but also because he saw how much the couple was enjoying this time in their own little bubble. At first he though the relationship was just something casual, but as time grew on, he could see just how right they were for each other. They were best friends. One completed the other. And it became very apparent that they could never go back to a time where they were just friends.

It wasn’t much longer after that day that Harrison finally caught on as well. His suspicions soon being confirmed after walking into the kitchen one day. He hoped they never went any farther than what he walked in on. He should probably scrub the counters just in case.

Surprisingly, the third and final roommate had not discovered the relationship until after their one year anniversary. I mean, how could it get more obvious than coming back from a weekend away together with that signature post-‘sexcapade’ glow. They all thought for sure that he would finally connect the dots but he still remained oblivious. But it finally came to that one fateful day.

Tom and Y/N had been more obnoxiously clingy than usual. Not anything too crazy, but enough to make you roll your eyes in frustration from how cute they were. It was the playful banter and the sly nudges that really did it. The group was meant to be continuing their annual Marvel binge, but those disgusting giggles were just too distracting. It didn’t take long for Harry to get frustrated and for Harrison and Tuwaine to get a little giddy from what they knew was coming. Another five agonizing minutes passed before he finally snapped.

Harry turned to the pair before finally letting loose.

“Oh my god will you two just fuck and get it over with already!”

The room went silent except for the sound of Ultron’s evil monologue in the background.

Y/N glanced at Tom, holding back a smile before responding.

“What are you talking about”?

Angrily pausing the movie, Harry started his own monologue.

“The giggles and the constant flirting! You two are absolutely infuriating. You’ve been dancing around each other for years and your still too stupid to see that you both like each other! I mean seriously, tell me what friends you see that act the way you two do? That’s right, none! So you will you just pull your stupid heads out of your stupid asses and just fucking tell each other already!”

Panting to catch his breath, Harry finally felt the weight off his shoulders after finally saying what he has wanted to for the past year. A second passed before the room exploded in laughter. Harry sat confused. He thought Tuwaine and Harrison would sympathize with him. What was he missing? Finally the laughter died down as Tom wiped the tear from his eye.

“You are such an idiot, do you know that?”

Harrison slapped his hand onto Harry shoulder as he tried to contain his laughter.

“They’ve been dating for almost a year now!”

Harry’s brow furrowed as he soaked up the new information.

“Wait what?”

“Tom and I started dating last May.”

It suddenly dawned on Harry what they’ve been doing and how he was the only that didn’t know.

“So you’re telling me that you and Tom have been dating for over a year and you only told Haz and Tuwaine? What kind of joke is this? Who doesn’t tell their sibling that they been dating someone for a while fucking year?”

Harrison jumped to the now ‘outed’ couple’s defense.

“Well it’s not like they’ve been hiding it. And they didn’t tell us, we figured it out on our own. This is on you.”

“I-“

Harry stuttered to come up with a retort before stopping. Shrinking in his own embarrassment he turned back to the tv.

“Well…. good. It’s about time you two got together.”

And with that, he unpaused the movie, determined to forget this ever happened.

Hours later, and everyone had retired to bed. Tom and Y/N lay together, tangled in each other’s arms as she spoke up.

“So do you think he approves?”

Letting out a snort, Tom leans down to kiss her forehead.

“Let’s give him time. It is a big change for him after all.”

Giving Tom one final peck in the shoulder, Y/N rolls over to settle in for the night, Tom moving to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

#I wrote this #tom holland blurb #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland imagines

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kittydemon9000 · 3 years

Text

Okay so I was thinking about ToE and had ideas to add for my Not Today Destiny AU(tl:dr, Kai keeps Lloyd’s Green Ninja status secret from everyone and how canon is affected from there)

Also, before we get into it, because there was no Overlord messing with tech, THERE IS NO LOVE TRIANGLE! I am fully subscribed to the theory that the Overlord messed with it in order to split the team up, and it’s stupid that it worked. So no Love Triangle and no Jay Cole Fight. That’s important later.

ANYWAY, with Zane not dead they’d be a bit less desperate to go to the island, and without that incentive of keeping quiet they’d probably immediately go talk to Wu about this weird invite and the fact that other Elemental Masters existed.

Wu would fill them in, explain how Chen was definitely up to something, which has them all go in the first place, and Nya and Wu agree to stay behind to watch Lloyd and defend against Garmadon.

How does this exactly tie into this AU? Well, there were two extra letters sent, one to Kai and Lloyd respectively.

Lloyd’s letter explained how he was also being invited, and if he won he would be awarded some info about his mom. Lloyd knows the ninja would never let him go, so he opts to sneak there and then explain. Better to ask apologies than permission. But don’t worry, he left a note for Nya and Wu

Meanwhile, Kai’s explains how they have found knowledge of who the Green Ninja is, and if he wins he’ll get that info and can do whatever he wants with it.

These two are connected and also important later.

They go to the boat, Nya gets them some hidden trackers to be safe, Kai is secretly freaking out since “How the heck does Chen know???” and then Lloyd sneaks on too. Now, at first everyone just thinks Lloyd is just really short and keeps to himself. It’s not until they land and get to the main room that it finally clicks to Kai that it’s Lloyd when Chen points him out as the Master of Energy.

He of course, is very not happy that Lloyd is here and makes that very well known. The other ninja are equally unhappy while the rest of the EM’s are given a slight Moral Dilemma since yes they want to win, but that means there’s a chance of them fighting a literal child(it’s been….almost a year since they first met Lloyd so he’s about 10 right now).

Lloyd’s room is next to Kai’s, just on the other side so he still shares a balcony space with Skylor. Maybe one of the other EM’s finds Lloyd desperately looking for a Jade Blade and “accidentally” drops it so he can pass.

Later when Karlof is dropped through the floor more than a few cast a glance over to Lloyd, each silently dreading who will have to go against him. Nobody comments when Kai holds Lloyd close and if anyone saw Lloyd sneaking into Kai’s room that night, they didn’t say anything.

It’s that night when Lloyd explains why he came, which makes Kai panic even more. On one hand, he cannot let anyone else find out about Lloyd’s Destiny. But on the other….Lloyd could finally get answers for what happened to his mom unlike Kai who has no idea what happened to his parents

So yeah. Not a fun time.

But it only gets worse from there.

You see, at first each of the ninja let out a silent sigh of relief when they learned they wouldn’t have to fight Lloyd.

Wellllllllll since there’s no Love Triangle and no fighting between Cole and Jay, Chen has no reason to pit them against each other to further split up the ninja.

What he does instead? Changes things so instead it’s Kai vs Lloyd

Now, it’s plainly obvious to everyone that those two are very close, so they’re not looking froward to this next fight at all. Camille honestly isn’t sure if this is better or worse than if she had to go against him

At first, their fight is mostly a verbal one, trying to get the other to take the Jade Blade, with only the occasionally very wide shot to try and herd the other toward the Blade. At some point Kai ends up physically picking up Lloyd and trying to carry him over to the Jade Blade, yelling about how Lloyd has a chance to find his mom and he shouldn’t that up, but Lloyd is fighting him and immediately yells back that he doesn’t want to find her at the cost of his Big Brother and god if that isn’t a knife in the heart of the other EMs.

But Chen, being the bastard he is, decides this is boring because it’s going no where and release the bikes like canon, and then these two fight like a well oiled machine.

But ofc, we can’t have nice things and the arena starts falling apart.

And Kai….as much as he’s terrified of Lloyd’s Destiny, he even more terrified of loosing Lloyd.

So with a bright smile and a good luck wish, he jumps.

That night when Chen takes away their rooms as punishment, none of them can be mad. They don’t comment either when the remaining ninja drag two of the bunk beds together a curl up around Lloyd. Instead of splitting them apart, it only lets them know that Chen is not their friend. He sees all of this as a game, going as far as to lure a child here with promises of finding his mother and making him fight the family he has left.

This actually makes their Elemental Alliance work out better this time.

(Also this time Jay fought Ash, then Cole fought Camille(I’m also 99% sure the skating thing was just another attempt to split them up, so again it’s kinda useless here).

Meanwhile Kai does not have a fun time. Clouse is upset since 1) the plan was for Lloyd to be the one to loose, either by Kai winning or making Lloyd fall, since because he’s the green ninja he’s bound to be powerful and 2) because Skylor got attached to this stranger and Chen ordered him to make Kai useful to them. So now he’s trying to keep a very annoying, very loud prisoner while waiting from the Master of Mind to be captured so he can use those powers to make Kai more docile.

Unfortunately, a side affect of Kai being as loud and obnoxious as possible means he spends a lot of his time knocked out, so he has no idea how long he’s been stuck under or if any of his family are stuck under here too. At the very least he shares a wall with Karlof who tries his best to fill him in(when he learns who Kai was made to fight he also gets pretty pissed).

Later when they’re all dropped from the plane, all of them are quick to make sure Lloyd has a parachute. This time the objective is to a “Safe Zone,” but there’s only enough for four of them. However, the Safe Zones are, unsurprisingly, traps and there’s enough for everyone. Once you step in one, it descends, then vengestone cuffs fly out and trap the Master inside.

Skylor ends up finding Lloyd and offers to help him look for one. They end up talking and joking, Lloyd saying how Kai has an enormous crush on her and kept trying to impress her, but Lloyd thought she was good and would like Kai if they didn’t need to fight each other, which accidentally slams her with guilt.

Some how she ends up slipping, maybe by accidentally revealing how she knows the locations/number of traps and Lloyd realizes she’s the spy which crushes him. He tries to fight her but she just pushed him onto the trap.

Going to the small cult area below, the remaining EMs are brought together. They try their best to keep Lloyd protected but he’s brought to the front anyway. Lloyd asks if they even knew about his mom, to which Chen reminisces about a woman they meet a few years ago who was stealing from them and how they stole some of her things, but they were mostly worthless. They honestly have no idea where she is, which just makes Lloyd mad.

Mad these people tricked him. Mad these people had the audacity to pretend to know his mom. Mad these people made Kai sacrifice himself for him.

However, they weren’t lying About having met Misako. That’s actually how they found out about the whole “Lloyd Being The Green Ninja” thing

But anyway. Chen steals their powers, Skylor is having a moral dilemma, and they start getting ready to Make Trouble in the Noodle Factory

Only this time when they go to steal the staff, they now have to fight Kai.

Only this time for real.

This is the replacement for the Staff Scene. Because of his affect under the Staff Kai…..isn’t really there. Like, he’s just a blank puppet. There’s the tiniest amount of emotion, but his eyes look empty.

At some point the staff goes flying and it turns into a mental tug of war between Clouse commanding Kai and Lloyd and the others trying to get through to him. Lloyd is luckily able to get to Kai enough for him to smash the jewel, releasing the EM powers and the control on him. It gives him the worst headache though.

And from there, canon is mostly the same for a while. The whole time this has been going on Zane has been having dreams/nightmares about an Ice Dragon and finally makes the connection to unlock it. Skylor is still captured, Chen still escapes but now Clouse is still around, Pythor is captured, TIME FOR THE END

This time around, the EMs are able to follow Chen to their base of operations and have the final battle there. They fight, and even though they’re only partially Anacondrai, they’re still hard to fight.

Clouse tries to do the whole “Banish You To the Departed Realm” thing, but accidentally summons the Anacondrai Generals as well, who are very not happy over what these humans are doing.

And yeah. That’s what I got.

I might do more in depth posts for some of the other seasons, not sure. But feel free to ask or submit ideas of your own

#if you cant tell #ToE is my favorite season #but at the same time #i love to change it #Not Today Destiny #info dump #kai #kai smith #lloyd #lloyd garmadon #tournament of elements #ninjago #long post

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libradusk · 4 years

Text

Ignited | Rex

Word Count: 8,388

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Summary: After an unexpected crash landing on Felucia results in Rex becoming entangled within a particularly sticky patch of foliage, an even stickier situation unfolds between the pair of you.

Warnings/Content: Explicit smut, as in the longest smut fic I’ve written so far, Rex gets a face full of Sex Pollen tropes (and by extension, slight dub-con by virtue of that?), AFAB reader (though no gender is explicitly mentioned), oral sex (reader receiving), hintssss of cock warming + breeding kink because that’s what I’m here for baby, can’t lie there are clear feelings involved because I’m too soft for this MAN.

a/n: This is set during the events of “Bounty Hunters” from season 2 of TCW, except instead of fighting pirates the reader and Rex end up boning down.

I took some liberties (I guess??) with the writing of the ship and also Clone Trooper equipment for plot purposes but let’s be real that’s not why any of us are here rn.

I’ve had this + a sequel planned out forever so its such a relief to finally have finished part 1 of this behemoth at least.

And now, at last - have part 2

When the command that would reassign you to the Felucia Medical Base had first been issued, you were none too happy about it. You had become quite content with your duties amidst the 501st, as well as the closeness you had cultivated with its men, enough so that you were incredibly reluctant to see an end to it all. Despite the severity of the war currently plaguing the Galaxy, and their especially heavy involvement in fighting for the Republic side, the 501st always seemed to find a way to rekindle your optimism in a multitude of ways that were unique to them. It was refreshing. You considered yourself incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many individuals, soldiers and Generals alike, who never failed to treat both you and each other as though you were each true individuals in their own unconventional family unit.

But alas, your luck had finally run dry. As instructed by the forces commanding both you and your unit of staff, you were now to stay at the base to re-establish its connections, as well as to provide a befittingly intricate report as needed.

Orders were orders.

Didn't mean you had to like them though.

You glare out into the darkness of space as that thought continues to swarm around your mind. The ship you’re currently situated upon cuts smoothly behind the one piloted by General Skywalker himself. You secretly thank the stars that you don’t have to share a vehicle with Anakin, considering how you’ve witnessed his reckless flying techniques numerous times over in the time you’ve known him. But even so, you can’t help but silently curse your own ship for being the object responsible for pulling you away from the only sense of true belonging you’ve felt since joining the army. All you can hope for is that the medical station isn’t too heavily damaged despite losing contact with the base of operations, and that by some miracle you can pull some strings to get reassigned back to your boys before your work within Felucia’s orbit threatens to drown you.

The dark expanse beyond the transparisteel viewpoint appears vast and inviting, as though beckoning you to sink into its velvet depths. You imagine the tenderness of the reprieve it could offer you in your fantasies, transporting you to a place where you could surround yourself with pleasant memories and little else.

Running away from your obligations would only ever get you so far, but for a moment it was blissful to relax into the thought of it. It made the ache of reality twinge a little less painfully in your chest.

You feel the warm weight of a pair of hands on your shoulders before your eyes unglaze enough to register them decorating your reflection. Captain Rex stands to attention behind you, the gentle hold of his palms atop your shoulders being the only aspect to break the picture of discipline his stance holds as he follows your gaze out to the stars. He allows his touch to linger for a moment more - to anyone else it would likely appear as no more than a colleague extending a gesture of camaraderie to a solemn looking comrade, but you know that to him it probably feels like the greatest of sins. His helmet obscures his expression, but you can hear the swish of his kama as he fidgets ever so slightly in place and you wonder if his thoughts are as overcast as your own.

This unspoken attraction, tiptoeing the line of propriety with each affectionate jest or brush of skin against armour in the corridor… it had all been going on for months now, to the extent where even Rex’s own men were beginning to whisper through the cracks in his resolve. Though now it seemed that this too would be forced to come to an end, snuffed out before it ever truly had a chance to bloom. The taste of that knowledge is sour on your tongue as you bite down on it to quash the sense of mourning that had suddenly washed over you.

It's exceedingly difficult to not take it as a form of punishment, even though you know that’s not the case. Really, you should be honoured to be appointed in charge of the station, but the fact that you had no way of knowing if it was even salvageable until you arrived there did precious little to alleviate the miserable affair this had all devolved into.

Your shoulders feel naked without his touch now and you realise that you’re yearning more than ever now that your hypothetical future with Rex is about to be torn away from you in less than an hour’s time. You find yourself wondering once more what expression graces his face beneath the visor, if his eyes lingered on you instead of the stretch of space beyond where his reflection could reach. You decide to indulge in your little fantasy for just a while longer, war was a tragic business, and you would continue to take what respite was offered to you while you still could.

“We seem to have lost you to the stars again, Officer.”

Rex’s low tone jolts you out of your starry-eyed daydream, your reflection’s gaze refocusing back at you in the windowpane as the void of space framing it fades out to a grey in your peripheral. The smile in his voice is obvious to you, even with the helmet’s barrier. It's familiar, warm but a little sad as it wraps the playful quip in a mask of enough stoicism for it to slip under the radar of the few troops that share the ship’s interior with you both. They’re mostly shinies, picked to accompany your team alongside the Captain as an escort, just in case trouble awaited your group once you reached the medical station itself. You already had the company of two Jedi Generals and their Padawan, but you weren’t about to complain about having Rex present alongside them either.

“We’re approaching the Felucia Medical Station now,” Obi Wan’s voice crackles through the ship’s communicator and closes the window of chance for you to quip back at the Captain. The Jedi’s usually calm voice prickles with an apprehension that rises the closer his much smaller ship gets to the seemingly derelict station, “something is wrong… brace yourselves- !”

Time appears suspended around you the moment the first flash of streamlined grey cuts through the darkness surrounding your ships. You have little chance to throw more than a glance towards the ruined medical station orbiting Felucia before the knife-like structure of several vulture droids cut dangerously close to your ship.

“We need to move and evacuate, now!”

You aren’t sure if it's Rex’s voice or your own that echoes against the blaring siren of your ship as it takes the first hit of fire. The durasteel beneath your feet threatens to distort with the force of it, and you feel your breath stutter in your lungs as you’re shaken violently. You stumble to cling to a nearby surface while simultaneously shoving a rather shell-shocked member of your team down towards where the ship’s escape pods are located, eyes squinting through the flash of crimson beating off the walls around you. Your gaze locks on to Rex as he stands by the doorway, ushering the last few stragglers through it with a determined wave of his hand. The dark visor of his helmet flashes dangerously with each pulse of the alarm light, bathing his white armour in a bloody glow that darkens and spreads in time with its screeching. It dawns on you then, that this might very well be the last you see of him after all, even without setting foot on the medical station itself - this, as bitter a circumstance as it is, seems much more twistedly befitting.

Another blast collides with your ship, this one buckling the wall directly behind Rex and warping the exit’s frame with the force of it. You hear Rex cry out, the sound shocking straight through you as he’s thrown forward in an explosion of sparkling wire and twisted durasteel. The sight of him struck down to his knees is enough to shoot another bolt of adrenaline up your spine, and you launch yourself towards him despite the unsteadiness of your own legs in supporting you. He’s still very much conscious, but clearly injured as you grit your teeth and drag him to his feet, all but throwing the pair of you through the sparking blast door and towards an empty escape pod as the remnants of your ship begin to hurtle further towards Felucia’s surface.

---

Your landing is less than graceful, with your pod catching its underside on a particularly sharp jut of rock on its decline and sending itself skidding across the swampy ground. The impact of the connection sends your head spinning once more, and you’re forced to take a few minutes to regulate your breathing and ensure that your vision is no longer swimming before you can open your eyes and dare to venture outside. You flex the fingers on both hands before stretching out each of your limbs on instinct, relieved to find that somehow, nothing appeared to be broken and at worse you had suffered a few mere bruises despite a landing that would have made Skywalker himself proud.

The humidity of Felucia’s climate hits you the moment you step out of the ruined pod, legs carrying you with all the grace of a baby Krugga deer. It clings to your clothes as you survey the damage dealt to what remains of your escape pod, though it chills down the back of your neck severely once it dawns on you that Rex is nowhere to be seen within the wreckage. In a burst of panic you jog forward blindly, calling out for him through a raspy throat even as you stumble into a particularly sticky patch of flora that coats your uniform in a sweet-smelling gunk. Your hands fumble across your torso before settling on the blaster strapped to your hip. You grip the trigger with clammy fingers as you force your eyes to focus completely and scan your surroundings, ears ringing with the calls of nature and unseen creatures around you.

Despite the bustle of the jungle-planet’s ecosystem all around you, you find yourself completely alone.

No troops, no supplies, no Jedi and no Rex.

Your blood suddenly feels cold despite the heat rippling across the horizon line. Each thump of your heart grows louder with every second that passes, drumming in your ears like a foreboding death march as the breath begins to skip in your lungs. It's just about drowned out the ambience across the clearing you’re frozen in when you finally hear it: a faint string of cursing in mando’a paired with the sound of very human struggling not far from where you are.

The sound of your footsteps pounding the earth reaches you before your breathing even has the chance to even itself out again.

“Rex! Oh thank goodness-”

You find the Captain entangled in an odd-looking shrubbery of fuchsia coloured thorns. The trooper’s helmet lays on its side, just out of reach as he struggles to free himself. The frustration is evident on his face as he attempts to contend with what is clearly an injured shoulder. Relief gushes through you all the same, and you waste no more time in helping him free himself.

You note the heaviness of the air around where he was trapped moments ago. The plant’s loosened pollen seemingly floats around its glossy flowers, its pinkish smog burning down your throat all the way to your belly as, despite your better judgement, you give in to your exhausted lungs and inhale too closely to it. The sensation is not unlike chasing a shot of Corellian whiskey, your head feels foggy just from the time it takes you to untangle Rex from the vines’ clutches.

Rex’s voice drawls out like his gullet is coated with honey as he groans in pain. His eyes appear largely absent even as he weakly gestures to his utility belt and the familiar prickle of panic begins to bite at you once more. You rummage through his pack and note the half-used tube of bacta tucked away within it, which you fumble to apply to the exposed wound on his shoulder. The gash glares angry and bloody from the tear in his blacks as it peers out from the gap between where his pauldron and chest-plate meet. You cringe as his entire body buckles at the touch of your fingers against his skin once you carefully tug off his armour, taking care to try not to jostle him too much in the process. Each swipe of your fingertips against his body, injured or not, has him reacting like he’s received a kick to the gut. The panic melts into a simmering worry once you finish seeing to his more obvious wounds. You take solace in the knowledge that the bacta will no doubt work on the worst of his abrasions, but the way he’s now shivering and clenching his jaw with that same hazy stare sparks a new sense of concern within you.

“... Are you sure you can stand? You still seem in pretty bad shape.”

He coughs into his fist a few times before pinching the bridge of his nose in an obvious attempt to clear his vision and mind. His eyes are heavily-lidded when his gaze drags over to meet with your own.

“... yeah, I-I’ll be fine, heads just still spinning from where I was thrown out the ‘pod.”

Your eyes widen at his words and your fingers flex with the instinctual drive to check over his heaving body for any signs of internal damage or fractures. Even through his discomfort, he seems to read your expression before the accompanying words can leave your lips.

“Nothin’s broken, can tell you that much. This… foliage, whatever it is, broke my fall. Though I dread to think how much longer I would’ve been struggling in it if you hadn’t found me when you did. Thanks, by the way.”

A sigh of relief rushes from you at his reassurance, though you can’t help but eye him sceptically as he grits through the pain to shake out the stiffness in his joints. You pat his back comfortingly as you look towards the distance, newly set on locating yourself a less obvious place of shelter for the night than what the remnants of the escape pod could offer to you both. The Separatists would pick the two of you off easily if they were to find you in such a vulnerable state, but Rex still needed a sheltered place to rest in order for the bacta to heal his wounds all the same. With another sigh and the exchange of a few words of encouragement, you urge him to walk forwards into the underbrush. You take care to keep him close in your peripheral as you bundle up his removed armour under one arm and keep the blaster raised in your other, eyes keenly trained on your surroundings all the while in case you were to spot another one of your separated allies, or in case of more insidious forces raising their heads.

---

Your prayers seem to be answered in record time, as the pair of you manage to stumble on a cave far enough away from your crash-point for you to consider it safe. It’s discovery couldn’t have come at an any more pinnacle moment, as Rex’s shivering has only worsened in the time that has passed, so much so that now you can’t even reach out an arm to support his heaving shoulders without the contact of your body heat against his own sending him spiralling into another fit of quivering, cold sweats. The situation is only made more daunting with the fact that you have yet to stumble on any of your lost allies, Jedi or otherwise, and at this point the ground itself feels as though it is pulsating under your boots with how high the heat has risen.

Quickly, you usher Rex towards a nearby patch of bushes as you step forward to survey the cave for signs of life, heart hammering in a combination of nerves and exhaustion drawn from trekking under the Felucian sun. Finding it satisfyingly empty, you beckon the Captain forward. No sooner does Rex gingerly set himself down with a grunt does his comlink finally crackle to life. Anakin’s voice sounds distorted and broken as it strains from the trooper’s wrist and you can’t help but fixate on the beads of sweat that trickle down Rex’s neck into the collar of his blacks as he lifts his arm towards his flushed face.

“-Rex, Rex! Do you read me, Rex?-”

“...Yeah General Skywalker, I hear you. Signal’s spotting something terrible, sir, but it's better than nothing.”

You hear a muddle of voices dancing amidst the static and move drop down to where Rex slumps against the cool surface of the cave wall. Your body brushes against his as you lean closer, and his breath hitches audibly despite it being the uninjured side you come into contact with.

“Everything ok there Rex? You sound in a bad way.” It’s Obi-Wan’s concerned tone that echoes across the cave space this time, and Rex shakes his head despite the General having no way to see his reaction.

“N-no I’m fine, just took a hit when the vulture droids took down our ship is all. I’ll be fine, I’m not alone.”

“I’m here with Captain Rex, General Kenobi. We still haven’t been able to locate the rest of the group we initially set off with, but we’re safe and sheltered for now.” You duck closer to Rex’s suspended wrist, doing your best to ignore the heat of his breath fanning over your cheek as you speak into the communicator. You can feel his eyes on your profile, but keep your own fixated on the blue lines decorating his forearm plating all the while. “Rex is… His shoulder is injured. I’ve treated it with what I have available, but the medical supplies perished alongside our ship and it might be at least a night until we can judge if he’s well enough to set off through the wilderness again.”

There's a thoughtful hum from the other side of your communication link and you can only imagine that Kenobi is currently cupping his chin in thought at your words. A voice you recognise as Ahsoka’s chimes in before the Jedi Master can speak once more, the volume of her voice indicating that she must have snatched Anakin’s wrist close to her face before anyone else had the chance to interrupt her.

“We have most of the others here with us! Your pod can’t have landed much further away right- hey!-”

“As I was going to say before Ahsoka here decided to interrupt, you’re hopefully not much further away from where we currently are. I’ll send over our coordinates so you can hopefully use Rex’s equipment to track to our location. We seem to have stumbled upon some kind of farming settlement, we’re going to see if we can get some help from them once we get a little closer.”

For the first time since your crash-landing, the weight sitting across your chest eases a fraction, and it manifests into a small smile of relief that brightens your face in the fluorescent glow emitted by Rex’s comlink.

“Amazing! I’m so relieved you’re all ok, I’ll admit I feared the worst once our ships began to go down.”

“Please Officer, you should know better by now than to doubt my flying skills after everything you’ve seen so far-”

“Really Anakin? I’m not so sure that's the most reassuring statement you could have given, considering your reputation... Anyway, stay safe you two and try to reconnect with us as soon as possible. I’m sending the coordinates over now.”

There’s a faint beeping sound as what you assume to be the coordinates in question sync themselves up with your own location, and it isn't long before Rex lets slip a low groan of frustration as he eyes flicker to the small display screen on the inside of his wrist. Your newfound optimism drops at the sound.

“What is it?”

“It's gonna take at least a full day and a half on foot to get to where Generals Kenobi and Skywalker are, and that’s with us both operating at full capacity.” Rex punctuates his frustration with another pained hiss as his shoulders lurch forward towards you. Your hands instantly jut out to support the weight of him, resting firmly on his chest so as to avoid latching onto his injured shoulder. The full body shiver that wracks through him is apparent under your palms, as is the way his breath catches in his throat as you move a hand to press against his clammy forehead.

He’s boiling. There’s no way you can allow him to move from the cave as his condition currently stands. This is no simple case of blood loss and fleshwounds, whatever toxin present within that plant is currently forcing itself through his bloodstream with a vengeance and is clearly the main culprit behind his discomfort. You feel somewhat lightheaded yourself, especially in such close proximity to him. There’s a creeping heat fluttering across your skin despite the coolness the cave offers. It's been slowly gnawing at your flesh since you first came into contact with Rex’s botanic prison, and you can only imagine the intensity of how it's affecting Rex in comparison.

“Don’t make that face at me, I’m gonna be fine.” He speaks through gritted teeth as he furrows a brow at your expression, attempting and failing to appear strict as he pants up at you from where he sits slumped against the wall.

“You need to rest at least. Come here and let me check your vitals.”

I need to make sure this isn’t affecting you as seriously as it seems. You choose your spoken words cautiously as you slowly begin to strip him of the remainder of his armour, leaving him in just his blacks and boots. He protests weakly for a moment before giving in to your careful touch, resigning himself to simply instructing you on how to undo the more complicated latches keeping the plating in place and watching the movement of your fingertips dance down his body.

Somehow he’s burning even hotter beneath the plastoid, his breathing becoming shakier with each layer that is pulled away from his body. When your thigh brushes up against his own when you lean across him to place his thigh-plate on the rest of the armour-pile, he throws his head back and groans. The sound shoots straight through you despite your attempt to resist it - guilt crawling in to join it in quick succession.

“...m’sorry-” he glances at you bashfully beneath heavy lashes, pausing to wet his lips between a shuddering sigh as his head lolls back against the stone behind him, “-I’m just, just burning up - my body is on fire and I don’t know how to stop it.”

You take a deep breath of your own before opening your dry mouth to speak again.

“I-its ok Rex, You’re going to be ok, I promise. Here,” you reach down to where his utility belt sits beside him, unhooking the small canteen of water and raising it to his lips, “drink, you need to get some fluids in you.”

He takes the flask from you with fingers that hint of a tremor ghosting across them. You watch his reaction as he chugs it down, noting sadly that it hardly seems to bring him any relief. With an inward sigh, you refocus your attention to checking over his vitals, alerting him before your hands make contact with his body once more.

His muscles continue to twitch under your touch, but you’re relieved to find that despite his elevated body temperature and sensitivity, there are no glaring signs of toxin poisoning or major threat in his system. You reassure yourself that his condition likely stems from his body’s reaction to an unfamiliar substance, but it being one that didn’t appear to have any threat of being fatal to him. Even so, you make a decision to set off in search of the others as soon as you were possibly able to so that he could at least receive more in depth medical aid, cursing once again that the medical supplies destined for the ruined base perished in the attack on your ship.

As soon as you pull away, a sound leaves him that's akin to a whine and the heat of your own cheeks intensifies almost unbearably.

“...I should go find something to make a fire with. Try and get some rest, ok? I won’t go far I promise.”

You shrug off the jacket you’d slung over your shoulder the moment the atmosphere had become too hot to handle, flicking it out to the side to shake off any loose pollen before draping it warily over Rex’s torso. It's less of an effort to keep him warm, his shivers are beyond any help of this kind now, but you hope it's perceived as a caring gesture all the same. Perhaps it could serve as some semblance of a pillow if nothing else. You try to ignore the way his fingers instantly ball up in the fabric like a lover’s grip on the bed sheets.

It's strange, seeing him reduced to this, a side of him that you’ve never even caught a glimpse of beforehand when you thought you knew the Captain so well. You aren’t entirely sure how to act around him at the moment, because he seems so vulnerable and so sensitive to each brush against his body, leaning towards you each time like he can’t bear to be without contact despite the heat licking across his bones.

So you run away, just for a moment, just to give yourself enough time to process what's unfurling before your very eyes and the reasons as to why it's occurring. The humidity in the air is still stifling, even now the sun has begun to dip lower in the sky. A shivering sigh you didn’t even realise you were holding in is knocked from your lungs as the evening air enters them. It twists across your audience of none and sounds impossibly loud despite the bustle of nature all around you.

You somehow feel even more lost now than when you had started.

---

By the time you’ve loaded up on enough wood to make a decent campfire the temperature has dropped considerably. It breathes over your clammy skin mercifully, but does little to quell the heated thoughts plaguing your mind still. You waste no time in assembling a fire at the cave’s mouth. The sweat clinging to the back of your neck has cooled to a shivering kiss at this point, it dips its fingers down your spine as a breeze edges by you and licks across the flames. Rex’s groans of discomfort have lowered in pitch now, and they creep out from between the stones to settle deep in your stomach despite your increased attempts to bat them away. The uncomfortable heat building between your legs threatens to shackle them next to the fire, but the concern in your heart urges you forward to check on your injured soldier despite the heavy hesitation standing in your path. A particularly loud yelp proves to be the final push you need to shove you forward to a stumbled sprint.

What you find causes the remaining firewood in your hands to clatter noisily around your ankles. It splinters off towards the darker reaches of the caves to sit broken and forgotten while you stand slack jawed at the sight before you.

Rex lays writhing beneath your jacket, the material now wrung between the whitened knuckles of his fist as he bites down on it to try and smother his whimpering. It's become less of a blanket and more of a crude gag of sorts to cage his groans against. His blacks have been shed, they sit crumpled and hastily discarded across the cave’s floor. Rex is bare to your eyes, a tangle of panting breath and glistening, naked skin that almost appears to glow with the faint light of the campfire in the near distance. It serves to bathe him in copper, gilding his taunt muscles in a way that only emphasises the pure heat rolling off every inch of his body.

Your eyes rake over the whole shivering mess of him before you can bear to strip them away.

Your name all but wails from his lips once you can finally focus on how his gaze has locked onto you with a hunger - expression strained and apologetic, yet clouded with wide blown lust all the same. There's an echo of guilt that stirs your guts into knots, it screams at you as it bubbles over.

You should not be seeing this.

And yet you cannot look away now, your eyes drifting further down the valley of his stomach to where he grasps at himself. His wrist curls with each desperate jerk of his fist around his cock.

The coil winding inside you snaps to something hotter, yet your voice still fails you. It remains useless with an even greater intensity as he raises the same, glistening hand to smear it over his abdomen in a sparkling trail. He groans out your name again, something intelligible stumbling along behind it. The words are as jumbled as your thoughts.

“Mm-sorry. I tried to fight it but - but its too hot, m’burning-” Rex’s words slur together in a gasp. “Can’t, just can’t… fuck… I need you, need this, always needed…”

He trails off with another shaking moan as his hips canter and buck, body once again reminding him of the heat crawling over every one of his nerves.

“...I can’t, Rex.” He looks almost pitiful, but you can’t help but answer in a voice that’s stern, yet also too small in that moment for an officer of your capabilities. You try to keep your eyes trained on his upper half as you step closer, unsure if it's a thinly contained lust or concern fuelling your steps in that moment. The heat in your stomach billows higher the closer you get, and fuck - the waves of heat swelling from him seem almost contagious now.

Rex whines into your jacket in protest, and you can't help but ponder if this is truly the same steadfast soldier you thought you had known for months.

Against your screaming better judgement, you kneel down to check shaky fingers against his forehead. He leans desperately into the contact, but as quickly as the relief can flash across his face, it dies - replaced by a furrow of his brow and the straining of his arms as he so clearly fights to keep them pinned at his sides as you inch closer. There’s a new ache twisting in your heart over seeing him attempt to cling to the last shred of his composure, you think you can even make out the sparkle of frustrated tears gathering behind his lashes now.

“Oh, Rex…” Your words are carried on a whisper. The absurdity of your situation would have made you laugh if you were to have stumbled upon it in some sleazy holo-vid or novel, yet seeing the outcome of it play out in real life with someone you care for is gut wrenchingly frightening.

How long was this going to plague him? The thought of him twisting with an agony you cannot relieve makes your heart ache defeatedly, posture slumping to further accommodate the emotion burdening your form.

You sweep your hand down the slope of his cheekbone in an attempt to soothe him. His pulse thrums in his temple as your fingers skim over it in their path from his forehead. Surprise jumps in your stomach as he suddenly cocks his neck in order to softly catch your fingertips with the plush of his lips, pressing against them in a kiss that seems far too soft for how evidently worked up he is. The gentleness of the gesture contrasts with the harsh sigh of air that expels through his nose when your touch drifts away.

Those newly dangerous eyes lock with yours again, but he remains completely still now aside from the occasional shivers fluttering over his shoulders and the laboured rise and fall of his chest. You feel like you’re going to drown in them, but your legs refuse to step away. His gaze begins to roam as you stand paralysed beneath it, raking over your expression before settling at last on your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own before he opens them to speak again, the vibrato of his voice feels damp against your skin despite the fact you’re no longer touching him.

“Please.”

His eyelids droop as he pushes the top half of his body forward into a bastardised mock-bow in front of you. Amber eyes cling to your own once again, their pupils still blown but his voice now regaining the sense of clarity that had been lost to him before.

“Please, I want this, I need this so badly-”

Your resolve finally snaps and you all but bruise his mouth in a kiss that sings of longing as much as it does unbearable desperation. You grasp his jaw tight in a clammy hold as your teeth clash together with the force of it all. His growl carries over your tongue once you slip the appendage into his mouth, though you can only bask in the tiny victory for a short moment before you’re all but choking on your surprise as Rex pounces and drags you down to the cool floor alongside him. It's as though he’s become revitalised by your touch and taste, arms caging you beneath a look so possessive that it shoots straight between your thighs. You can feel just how strong he is as he leans down to kiss you once more, the press of his broad chest against your captured self stealing the air from you in more ways than one. It's a body that has been engineered to fight and kill, one that is genetically identical to the thousands of brothers that take to the field alongside him each day of the war. Yet now as you battle against the force of him to run your fingernails through the blonde buzzcut atop his head and over the uneven surface of his scarred shoulders, you note that it's decorated with parts that are unique only to him.

There is only one Rex, and in this moment, you are as much his as he is yours.

And you want to help him through this, you do.

Your hands have barely begun to skim over the constellation of scars painted across his back before they’re pinned above your head as Rex begins to clumsily strip you, his teeth now finding purchase in the curve of your neck. Your head begins to spin again as your shirt is torn over your head and flung across the floor, both your undergarments and bottoms soon following alongside it. A gasp slips from you the moment your newly bare flesh makes contact with the chill of the cave floor, it pulls a shiver across your naked shoulders that only intensifies further when the heat of Rex’s mouth attaches itself to your skin again and again in a delicious contrast.

It's maddening, the pace he’s moving at. It’s as though he can’t dedicate too much time to one specific area of your body before his lust demands he move on to taste another. His palms are wide and impossibly hot against you as he grips your thighs with a battle hardened grip before spreading them unceremoniously. You yelp in surprise and push yourself up on your elbows the moment he does, limbs beginning to shake the moment hot breath fans over your core. There's a flash of what you believe is concern that darts across his eyes then, but it soon hardens as he takes in the sight of your parted lips and the flush that has spread down your throat. Rex clearly tries to keep his eyes trained on your expression as he lowers his attention to your cunt, but the moment the taste of you hits his tongue he can’t help but groan in relief, eyes fluttering closed as they threaten to roll back into his skull.

His closely-cropped hair gives you little to nothing to grip onto as the first wave of pleasure stutters over you, and you resolve to bunch your fists into the fabric of his blacks beneath your hips for support. He’s a messy eater, just like his kisses were moments beforehand. His teeth even threaten to graze you a few times as he nips at your inner thighs between each lathe of attention he flicks against your folds. It causes you to yelp in mild alarm each time he does before the sound is buried beneath your moans once more as soon as he finds a rhythm that he can work against you. Despite the way he’s currently growling into your pussy, he’s still clearly lucid enough to squeeze your thigh in what you think is apology each time, though the indents his nails leave behind beg otherwise.

Rex lazily fucks up into his hand as he tastes you, each vibrating groan stretched from within his throat only shooting further into your core. The flush in his cheeks blooms deeper now, and it peppers across the top of his chest in a ruby hue that only burns darker in the low light of the campfire. He looks beautiful, even in such a state as this, and you can’t help but cry out his name as he switches between sucking at your clit and circling it with the rough pad of his thumb.

“S’good.” Rex’s voice slurs as he whispers against you, letting out another deep groan of his own as he pushes a finger into you and watches you clench around it, your head falling back with a broken gasp. You can hear him audibly swallow at your reaction, it melts into a purr as he pulls back to marvel at his handiwork after bestowing another lingering swipe of his tongue across your thrumming bundle of nerves. A thin strand of slick and spit trails breaks away with the detachment of his lips and you moan at both the sight of him and the loss of his mouth’s contact. His other hand comes to rub circles into the muscle of your thigh and you can feel the precum slicking his fingers smear across your flesh before quickly cooling across the heated surface.

“So, so good for me. So gorgeous.”

His tone is gentle, reverent almost. It contrasts sharply with the way his hand inches to squeeze your inner thigh as the other curls a finger experimentally within you. It truly feels as though the tables have been turned on you now, and it's your turn to muffle the sob that bubbles up your throat with your hand, back arching at the feeling of his thick finger stretching and rubbing the inside of your walls and the praise rolling off his tongue. The pace of his wrist is slow enough to have your toes curling, but not enough to push you over the edge to where you desperately needed to be.

He appears to forget his desperation for a moment longer, continuing to sit back on his haunches to admire your expressions with a hint of a lopsided smile as you all but fuck yourself on his hand. Another strangled moan leaves you then, and it's this one that finally seems to break whatever trance he has drifted off into, the hunger filling his eyes once more to take the place of the love-sick adoration that had graced them before. You drawl out his name needily, that all too familiar heat that you had first experienced when you found him on Felucia’s surface blazing over your nerves with a higher intensity than before. He finally snaps once again and lurches forward to bite into another kiss, hands now taking a bruising hold on your hips. Your chest hitches with the emptiness you feel once his fingers leave you, though the press of his body above your own makes quick work of ceasing your squirming. His skin is boiling, the full weight of him almost suffocatingly hot and heavy as he brands you into the cave floor. You find your legs hooking over his hips on instinct, hands gripping onto his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself from the sensations bombarding you. The ambience of the outside world has silenced itself to you now, all you can focus on are the wet sounds of your mouths meeting in a series of breathless kisses and the beat of your pulse in your ears.

You inadvertently bite down on his bottom lip as he begins to rut his lower half against you, resulting in another low growl and an increased force in the jerk on his hips. Both of you moaning at how the length of his cock slides against the slick of your sex with each grinding movement.

“Rex… please.” You are the one begging this time, uncurling your newfound grip on his shoulders to begin creeping it down his abdomen. He allows you the freedom to do this, but keens into the crook of your neck once your fingers wrap around his cock and begin to guide it blindly towards your entrance. “Please, please, please…!”

Your mindless mantra cuts off abruptly as he finally presses his hips forward and sheathes himself completely within you in an aching push. The action knocks the wind from your lungs and stretches your mouth wide in a silent scream, but your eyes never leave his own the whole time. Despite the sudden rush of relief and the cloud of pheromones threatening to blind you, beneath his wall of tightly wound muscle and feral lust you sense a tinge of nervousness still. Shakily, you reach a hand to cup his cheek tenderly as you attempt to adjust to the size of him all the while.

“Fuck.” It’s all you can manage to spit out as he slowly begins to withdraw from you, the head of his cock scraping against your walls in a way that has your head lolling back and vision spinning. He’s a stretch, but he slots so perfectly back inside you with each purposeful thrust in a way no other has ever done before. It’s a real struggle to catch your breath before Rex begins canting his hips forward with an instinctive fever, his hands pulling up your lower body to meet with his thrusts as you lay limp with pleasure beneath him. His cock throbs so intensely that you can feel it, even through the harshness of the pace he’s set. The pattern of his hips is largely uneven, jerking between quick, shallow thrusts to slower, deeper movements that sink his cock so deeply within you that your clit kisses against his pubic bone in a way that has you clawing at his shoulders once more. You can’t tell if this is due to inexperience or the overwhelming pleasure shooting through him as you attempt to grind upwards against him, but the way he sinks his teeth into your neck in such a way that you know he’ll leave a mark reminds you that you don’t care either way.

Rex’s entire body purrs against you as he releases a hand from your hip to paw at your chest, mouth trailing sloppy kisses from the quickly forming bruise on your throat to paint your collarbone in shades of puce and violet. Soon you’ve all but folded around him like a love letter, one that is signed with strings of mumbled mando’a painted across your skin with each thrust that shakes your body. You’re confident your nails are leaving their own angry red marks across his shoulder blades as you try to tug him even closer and arch up against him when he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It’s all so messy and primal, with the heat of him crawling into your very lungs with each gasp he pushes out of you as he splits you open.

The wet slap of your bodies meeting is almost obscene as it echoes around the cave, the sound only punctured further with the whines and groans of the people responsible for it. Your head leans back into the cooling embrace of the stone floor once more, content to lose yourself to the hazy pleasure swimming in the air as Rex’s thrusts pick up in intensity.

You’re snapped out of your lustful fog when his palm cups the side of your face with an unexpected tenderness that conflicts with the fortified hold he has looped around your lower back. Your eyes snap back open to full alertness, and instantly meet with a gaze that is so focused that you feel it could cut down to peer into your very soul itself if it wanted to. Rex’s expression is almost predatory despite the tenderness with which he cradles your cheek, teeth obviously clenched along with every muscle in his jaw and upper body - and yet his eyes themselves look upon you as though you are the most beautiful being in the Galaxy despite your sweat-slickened face and the thick tears of pleasure that threaten to slip down your mottled cheeks.

The way his blonde tint of hair halos around his head and the shadows dance over the chiselled contours of his body make him look more myth than man, glowing and golden and impossibly powerful above you. But a strangled moan of your name as he brushes his thumb against your cheek reminds you that he is indeed as mortal as yourself.

You’re coming before you can even realise it.

Your orgasm is the type that whites out the world around you until only you and Rex remain, rolling over your whole body in waves that have you clenching around him so hard that his own movement is forced to still with the intensity of it, the weight of him locking you into place beneath him. Your legs quiver so hard that they border on aching as you throw your arms around his neck and scream silently into the crook of his shoulder, ears ringing in such a way that drowns out everything bar the sound of your lovemaking.

The spike of your pulse is so loud that you nearly miss the way he all but shouts your name as he reaches his climax right behind your own, the syllables encased within the stream of a low moan. His voice dips in a way you’ve never heard from him before as he releases deep inside of you in impossibly thick ropes that warm you from the inside out. It's choked on its own emotion as his hips give out a few weak, final thrusts that force more of his cum to pool out from your twitching cunt. He sobs something you can’t decipher into your neck as he loops both arms around your torso to tug you close, but you still feel the words humming over your oversensitive nerves with a vibration that bubbles into goosebumps across your shoulders and back.

The chill of the cave floor is soothing rather than biting against your spent limbs, and it only beckons forth your fatigue more as you relax against it. Your lower half remains practically sat in his lap, buried to the hilt even as your orgasm tapers off into a pleasant buzz. His cum continues to dribble down between you in syrupy trickles as you attempt to catch your breath, chest still heaving and hips burning in the most delightful way.

Rex’s head remains nestled in the crook of your neck even after you manage to raise a shaky arm to brush your digits across the fuzzy texture of his hair. He nuzzles against the particularly dark mark he had sucked into your flesh, panting words of endearment against you all the while.

“So perfect, just wanna keep you here - fuck - stay inside of you forever.”

It takes more strength than you would like to admit to raise yourself off the ground enough to coax him out from under your chin. You brush a feather-light touch across the line of his jaw before you steal away a kiss that’s the most gentle of the night, it's one that sings of untold feelings and creeping thoughts that sting when you pull back.

Even so, it's lazy and loving and Rex groans appreciatively into it, a sigh escaping through his nose as though you have breathed the life right back into him.

Lust quickly creeps back to cloud his vision once he props himself up to stare down at you again. His gaze openly flows over the sight of you splayed out and still stuffed full of him. A rumbled growl bubbles from behind his teeth as he worries them over his swollen lower lip, the sound shooting straight to your cunt once more and causing you to roll your tired hips against his without even thinking. An affectionate chuckle slips past his smirk and his face creases into something more familiar, more befitting of the Rex you had always known - though the fire in his eyes still continues to burn with the intensity of the man who had just fucked you senseless minutes prior.

“Sorry, Cyar’ika,” Rex’s voice is thick and ragged as he speaks, his accent sharpening the words almost dangerously. Warmth blooms and spreads within your chest, the feeling sliding downwards in tandem with his hands against your sides before they eventually settle firmly on your hips with a familiar grip.

“I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

#captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #captain rex #rex x reader #clone wars reader insert #clone wars imagine #this took forever #it just kept going before i could stop it #mine #rex

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fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper · 3 years

Note

This is gonna sound messed up (I understand if you don’t wanna do it, you don’t have to) but I’d love to request head cannons of the Brothers reacting to an MC that’s just over everything. They keep a blank expression, not even phased by the monsters and magic in the Devildom, doesn’t care about the threats they get from demons around them (Brothers included), and even encourages them to kill them since they don’t really have anything to look forward to in life. When asked why they’re like this, MC would shrug and say “Not like anyone’s gonna care or miss me. I’m still not safe here 😐 *recalls how often they were threatened/nearly killed by the brothers*”

Other examples are like:

Lucifer: That could’ve killed you! *was pissed*

MC: I know, why did you think I did it? 😶

Belphagor:*is mad at MC*

MC: Go ahead and kill me again. Make sure I stay dead this time ☺️

Firstly, I wanna say sorry for taking so long with your request. Secondly, I hope I did justice to what you were wanting!

GN MC THAT'S DONE WITH EVERYTHING SCENARIOS WITH BROTHERS

Trigger warning: Suicide idealization, death cravings

Usual expectations would have been a bigger emotional response, a predictable reaction in astonishment and disbelief, or a suddenly broadened mindset that could range from stupefaction to incredulity to consternation based on the revelations that there actually was a heaven and hell, or close enough to what human concepts have conjured up in equivalent terms to the Celestial Realm and Devildom, but you were just an exhausted human that got unapologetically pulled into this transfer student program thing.

Maybe living with demons could have some benefits though.

Mammon:

-Mammon had left you alone outside in the courtyard of the school while he ran back inside, promising to be back in a few minutes, claiming to have forgotten something or another.

-That was fifteen minutes ago.

-It's not like you had any plans for anything special, but the long wait was gradually chipping away at your patience. You glanced at the time on your D.D.D. before pocketing the device. You were giving him a few more minutes, but then you were going home on your own

-As you loitered next to the doorway you lackadaisically watched the passing demons as they came and went, some grouping together to chat around the entrance

-You weren't paying attention to anything in particular as you absentmindedly looked around, but you noticed suspicious glances when you would turn your eyes to the doorway for Mammon

-A nearby group of demons that had clustered together were talking in hushed tones with harsh cackles

-You had a suspicion that you might be a topic, but you chose to ignore them and their pitched laughter that fell just as quickly as it erupted. It wasn't a concern to you what they were discussing.

-Patience finally expired, you moved away from your waiting spot against the wall to leave when you saw a trio of demons separate from the group that had been stealing looks at you earlier

-They encircled you and blocked your way. The courtyard seemed to quickly fall quiet as the demons smiled nastily and began making jeers

-"Where's your whipped bodyguard, human?"

-"Mammon probably bounced, because there's no incentive for him to stick around if there's no money involved."

-Something about that quip was funny to the demons, but it didn't strike a cord with you, so you remained mute as they laughed

-Something about your indifference or lack of reaction to their intimidation must have annoyed the one to your left a bit too much, because he moved towards you aggressively, his smile a snarling frown. A sudden blur behind him caught his arm that had begun the motions of a punch and jerked him backwards, causing him to stagger and fall

-Mammon immediately placed himself between you and the other two demons. His presence emitted a threat more awe-inspiring than these chump change demons could have hoped to muster, and they quickly retreated to their clique that dispersed in a hurry

-Mammon, after watching the demons scurry away, turned to you and started mother-henning and making comments about how you should have called him and chastising you for letting yourself get into that mess.

-You shrugged off his hands and began your way to the courtyard's exit, leaving a perturbed Mammon to trail after you, fussing at you to care a bit more about the situation.

-"You're actin' like you're totally unphased! Are ya wantin' a death wish or something?"

-"I was just doing what you told me about dying if you couldn't save me."

Beelzebub (and Asmo):

-You had developed a mean habit when you hung around Beel.

-You would pick food off of his plate when he would sit next to you, teasing him that a little missing wouldn't hurt him. You would also freely browse through his bag of favorite sweets and eat them in full view of him.

-It was fun tempting him to try something against the puny human that kept stealing his food, and you could see the growing frustration. It was apparent in his eyes, in the way he watched you when you came around if food was in his presence.

-You knew at some point Beel would finally reach his limits and go off, considering what had happened when Mammon had eaten his custard, but you hadn't expected it to be on an occasion you hadn't prompted anything.

-It was during afternoon when you had entered the kitchen you saw Asmo leaning against the counter, eating from a container that looked suspiciously familiar. It was a pudding cup that had Madame Scream's logo on the lid. You noticed on the side a warning was written: "You touch it, you die."

-That was definitely a snack Beel had purchased, and Asmo was eating it without any awareness

-Beel came into the kitchen shortly after you, making a beeline for the refrigerator. He began rummaging through the contents on the shelves and in the drawers

-Asmo and you quietly watched Beel as he searched through the fridge and freezer before Asmo asked what he was looking for.

-"A pudding I bought from Madame Scream's. It was from a batch that they're not selling anymore for a while. It was the last one."

-You saw Asmo's face go through a series of emotions as he connected the dots, dreaded uncertainty to fearful realization to a timorous epiphany. He shot you a nervous look before he quietly shuffled to the nearby trash can

-You glanced at the mostly empty cup as Asmo tried to escape the kitchen, but he froze in his steps when Beel slammed the fridge door closed, resulting in you both jumping in surprise. You were impressed that you didn't hear a loud clatter of stuff breaking from the force.

-"It's not in there."

-You could hear the gears turning in Asmo's head as he tried to think of an excuse while looking like a deer in headlights. It was painfully obvious that Asmo was guilty.

-Beel turned away from the fridge and his gaze shifted between Asmo, the culprit, and you, the heckling human. Beel inevitably decided to question Asmo first, taking his focus off you. Your eyes flicked to the trash can and you swiped up the pudding container.

-You could hear Asmo as he began to desperately stutter out incomplete excuses as Beel heatedly interrogated him.

-"Beel!"

-Asmo and Beel turned their attention to you as you held up the cup. You unapologetically admitted you ate it. You also confessed you knew it had been Beel's because of the warning, but you still ate it regardless.

-Beel's face darkened, so much rage emanating from him that you swear you coulda seen vapors wafting around his body. Asmo had backed away from Beel. You clutched the pudding cup hard enough to crumple it as you anticipated for the outburst, eager and fearful.

-Except nothing like that happened. Beel let out a deep sigh that seemed to release the growing emotions, and he deflated, his shoulders drooping and an almost hurt expression visible.

-Beel mumbled something that you couldn't quite catch, maybe an apology to Asmo, and then left the kitchen, hungry and disheartened.

-Asmo blinked in amazement at the doorway before he was at you side, happily enveloping you into a too tight hug. He began gushing his gratitude and praising you in compliments for your selflessness, but you felt a disappointed void in your chest.

-"That's not what I had been hoping for."

-Asmo, misunderstanding your statement, eagerly dropped an invitation to his room later so he could thank you properly, but you'd rather he just eat your heart instead.

Belphegor:

-There was something in the atmosphere that would always change if Belphie was around

-You could feel the curious sensation when you passed in the hallways and the stairs or if the only people left in a room were you two

-The air would shift to an awkward strained feeling or something would be just on the brink of uneasy

-Personal boundaries were stiffly maintained, glances were ungraciously hidden, any exchange of words were short and tense, like something would fracture if the wrong action was done or if there was hidden offense just a syllable away

-The uncomfortable undertones were logically sensible, considering your past circumstances with Belphie

-Except...

-This behavior was only demonstrated from Belphie. You were perfectly neutral to the outcome of what he had done to you, maybe a little bummed if you had to silently confess.

-Since his murderous outburst, Belphie had made a few attempts at making amendments with you

-You didn't see a fault that needed to be forgiven, so you ignored them. If anything, Belphie should be apologizing for accomplishing to kill you but failing at keeping you deceased.

-Whenever you thought back to that dead version of yourself, broken and limp, cradled in Mammon's lap, you felt a tingle of jealousy, like you had been cheated of something.

-You had been lost in an immersion with a book you had borrowed from Satan when a weight on the other side of the couch brought you back to cognizance. You saw from your peripheral vision that it was Belphie, clutching his pillow that he always carried around

-He fiddled with the tassel, his stare unfocused as he seemed to be thinking of how to begin yet another discussion that you weren't interested in, mainly because you assumed he would try to slip another apology in at some point

-You sighed, closed your book, and shifted your focus to Belphie, who was staring at you with his usual lazy stare but with an uncertain curiosity. Normally, he was the first to initiate conversations, but you were over this monotonous exchange.

-You were going to put an end to it.

-You leaned forward, invading the space bubble that Belphie had been careful to keep around you, and he pushed himself into the cushion of the couch, uncomfortable by your sudden approach.

-"If you feel so bad for your attempt at murdering me, you should skip the apologies and just kill me again. This time make sure I stay dead."

Leviathan:

-Levi was grumbling as he was sorting his prized possessions into piles of keep, trade in, sell, or give away, while you toiled away in the background just organizing, wondering why you had to be involved in helping clean his room

-Levi had stormed up to you, agitated and sniffling, and started a rant about how Lucifer just doesn't understand how hard it is for him to choose between his precious cherishables.

-Lucifer had apparently made an ultimatum with Levi that it was time to sort through his collection of games, manga, collectible figures, and anything else that he had, or he would come in and do it himself

-He had begged you to let him store some of his items in your room, just for a little while, just until Lucifer got off his case, but you immediately shot him down. You weren't going to be pulled into whatever trouble waited for Levi down the road.

-That had been your intentions in the beginning, anyway. Levi just wouldn't stop pestering and pleading with you, so you offered to help him sort through his stuff to put an end to it.

-You were just listening to him complain about how no one understands the hardships of being an otaku and the commitments that came with the lifestyle. You mindlessly muttered an "Mhmm" or "Yeah" on occasion to avoid assumptions you were ignoring him and let him prattle on.

-Your legs had gone numb from your sitting position, so you stretched them out, which resulted in an urge to stretch your whole body. You leaned back and let yourself drop backwards, bored because Levi was only placing things in the keep pile.

-You had thought your back was going to make contact with the cool floor, except it hadn't. Instead you felt a sharp stab and something uncomfortable shortening your fall. The sudden and unexpected loud crinkling noises that caused your instincts to shoot you back up and Levi to snap his head around in your direction were good indicators that you had accidentally reclined on the pile you had accumulated behind you that Levi handed to you to reconsider later.

-Some boxes were very noticeably bent and crumpled, the plastic display windows creased and wrinkled from enduring your full weight and being crushed. The dolls inside the boxes were alright for the most part, the top ones being the most disturbed.

-As you were trying to separate the damaged boxes and the boxes that made it out unscathed from your carelessness, you felt an intimidating presence approach from behind.

-The dark energy emitted was spine-chilling, threatening, and familiar. You peeked over your shoulder to see Levi, silent but radiating an aura of anger that could drown you. He towered over you in his demon form, his tail lashing from side to side.

-Levi snatched the box of a Seraphina figurine out of your hand and began inspecting it. The plastic window was beyond savable and the box frame was squished and torn around the corners. The figurine was a little skewered from her original spot, held in place by twist ties, but was otherwise just fine.

-"This was the limited edition of Seraphina in an actual seraphim-inspired outfit! The box was even designed to match her, so it was like a set! It's completely ruined now!"

-Levi grabbed another dented package with a Ruri-chan figurine inside and ranted about how it was another limited edition and very rare exclusive item because it had been based off a failed spinoff of The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl.

-You had practically been shoved aside as Levi rummaged through the pile, angrily talking to himself about how he shouldn't have trusted a normie with his precious possessions, lamenting at the loss in value (if he had decided to part with them), and apologizing to the figurines.

-"They're just dolls. There's no reason to be so upset, Levi."

-His hand abruptly snapped out and sharply jerked you forward. An electrifying sensation shot down your spine as Levi pierced his eyes into yours. A fury was burning hot in them.

-You were forcibly pulled to your feet as Levi stood, tugging you unceremoniously to his bedroom door. He shoved you out and his door cracked with a loud slam.

-You stood in the hallway, dazed and dumbfounded. The jarring rise of emotions settled flatly in your stomach. After a moment, you hummed disappointedly. You had thought for sure Levi would have done something different.

Lucifer (and Satan):

-"What did you expect to gain from your actions?"

-You opened your mouth to answer, but Lucifer held his hand up to silence you.

-"He would have killed you. Did you even think of what the outcome could have done to Diavolo or the entire transfer student program? You are completely irresponsible."

-You tried to voice your opinion, but Lucifer shot a glance that shut your mouth permanently. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

-You reclined back on the sofa and watched Lucifer as he collected himself to continue on.

-You should have known better, and you did, but the temptations to provoke Satan were too much to ignore. Insulting him, taking Belphie's suggestions to annoy Satan to the next level, "borrowing" books from his room, leaving the library table a disorganized mess, comparing him to Lucifer when you saw openings.

-It was that last one that finally broke Satan enough. He had tried to make you put away the books you had gotten out, you said you didn't have to listen to him, he mentioned something about learning manners and your place, you commented he sounded like Lucifer and egged him on after he warned you to stop.

-Satan had exploded into a fit. To be honest, you underestimated the severity of his anger.

-You had blinked and Satan had transformed, you had inhaled and Satan had cut off your air flow. The grip on your throat had been tight and excruciating to the point of numbness. You tried to pry his hands away on reflex, but he had simply applied more strength to his hold.

-You remember feeling deprived of sensation throughout your body as blackness creeped into your vision.

-A distant, heavy thud, muted voices behind a thick veil, and the perception of falling were the last remnants you could recall before waking up in Lucifer's room

"You obviously don't care about your own well-being. I didn't think it was necessary to employ a babysitter to you at home as well, but I don't think any of my brothers will be inclined to watch over you. Why can't you just behave and follow the rules set in place to keep you safe?"

-You locked your eyes with Lucifer and casually shrugged. "I have a death wish."

If you have any headcanons that you want me to write, please send them my way! I enjoy writing them out. NSFW is okay, but please know I might not do it. ❤️

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me requests #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #jess writes #idobvibing #things from the inbox

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