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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 8 months

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KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR ─── jonathan crane ✧♤

ೃ⁀➷ “Finally, a sin worth hurting for, a fervor, a sweet--you are mine.” — ‘Postcolonial Love Poem’, Natalie Diaz.

pairing. yandere!jonathan crane x reader

summary. a few months ago, you found out about your close friend’s… habit, of “cleaning up” creeps who hung around you. you use this to your advantage, but can you deal with the repercussions when your words backfire?

warnings. swearing, stalking, jonathan being creepy & delusional, manipulative but naive reader, mention of murder, p in v, creampie, breeding kink/forced breeding/babytrapping, unprotected sex, mild somno, oral sex (f), panty kink, forced cockwarming, drugging, heavy dubcon/noncon, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 6.1k

a/n. this is definitely the darkest thing ive ever written. pls read w caution everyone!!! this is also inspired by these headcanons by @babybluebex and this alphabet by @scorpiussage !!

You covered your face with your palms, sniffling. “Maybe I’m just being overdramatic. I was always too nice to him, y’know? Maybe I did lead him on.”

Jonathan’s head snapped to you, swiftly stepping toward the couch and kneeling down in front of you. “No, no, that’s what he wants you to think. You did nothing wrong,” he assured, pulling your hands away from your face and wiping a sneaky, non-existent tear from the corner of your eye.

You pouted at Jonathan, big doe eyes glistening with grief. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow… and everyday after that,” you lamented, “because it’ll be so - upsetting, seeing him.”

Jonathan’s large hands clasped around your own, delicate and warm. “Does it scare you? Him being there?” he murmured softly, peering deeply into you with an indecipherable look.

You nodded pitifully, looking down at his hands wrapped in yours so your hair would fall in front of your face, hopefully shielding the glee sparkling in your eyes. Thank god Jonathan had taken the bait -- it was only a matter of time before your dear, obsessive friend would get rid of your competitor for you.

It was late evening, and you’d called Jonathan, pretending to rant about a coworker who confessed and got slightly violent at the fact you did not reciprocate his feelings. In truth, none of that had happened at all— said coworker was vying for the same promotion opportunity as you were, and it was just your luck that a few months ago you discovered your sweet friend from college had made it a habit to “clean up” any creeps and freaks hanging around you.

What kind of ambitious career-woman would you be if you didn’t take advantage of that, huh? So there you were, crying on the phone so devastatingly that Jonathan would have no choice but to come over, comfort you, and later, be your knight in shining armor and kill, kidnap or maim your coworker.

You didn’t think it immoral to do so, y’know, even though it clearly was. To you, it was just… indulging his little hero-fantasy, while also making your life just that much easier. It made you happy, and it made Jonathan happy.

It was all harmless (to you, anyway), because you knew how reserved Jonathan was… how logical he was. You were positive he’d never cross that line, go too far; stray out of the shadows with that possibility of losing you still hanging over him like a cloud.

You wrapped your arms around Jonathan’s thin neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you for coming tonight,” you murmured, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear. He shuddered under your touch, and you knew you had him whipped; probably already so deep within a plan to kill your coworker nothing could stop him.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, pulling away and letting his hand come up to the hand-print sized bruises on your shoulder. “I can’t believe that - that monster hurt you.” Jonathan shook his head aghast, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes moved from your bruised shoulder to the strap of your lacy bra, trailing down your breasts before snapping back up to your face.

Your coworker hadn’t actually hurt you, obviously, but you had asked him to knead out a knot in your shoulder at lunch, and made him pinch harder ‘till you knew it would bruise. You’d known him for a couple of years now, coming from the same training batch, and had been involved in plenty of tit-for-tat exchanges, “scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” type of deals.

So you were close enough to be comfortable massaging the other-- but you’d be fucking damned if he got the promotion and you didn’t.

“It’s not that bad,” you murmured, ducking your head like you were ashamed.

“You don’t need to downplay it -- least of all to me,” Jonathan tutted softly, two fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze again.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, brows knitting. “I know, I’m sorry, I just…” you blinked rapidly, as if you were trying to do away with on-coming tears, “I thought you wouldn’t believe me. He said… he said that nobody would believe me.”

And just like that, it was like a shadow had passed over him. Jonathan’s expression contorted almost frighteningly quickly, and gone were the delicate, comforting sweetness of his sharp features; thus came the darkened eyes, clenched jaw, frown digging into his cheeks.

“…He said that?” Jonathan whispered, voice low, barely containing the rage seeping into his words.

“He said that - he could do… do whatever he wanted to me, and I’d never convince a soul.” You confided, letting your face get weepy, tear tracks running along the curve of your cheeks.

At that, you suddenly pulled Jonathan close to you, pressing your face to his chest and making anguished cries leave your throat. His hands shakily came up to pet your hair, and you could hear his heartbeat; skipping beats and growing faster the longer you clutched onto him.

“I believe you,” Jonathan insisted, and went from petting you to holding you so tight you could barely breathe, “I believe you.”

ii.

You never saw your coworker again. He’d sent in a notice of “vacation” that nobody could really object to… considering he also informed your boss he’d already gone, and was sending said notice from his hotel.

Sure, that was incredibly suspicious anywhere else, but that’s the thing— you weren’t “anywhere else”, you were in Gotham. If your coworker had actually gone on a split-second vacation, nobody would blame him; everyone you knew who lived in Gotham had snapped, at least once, and had to get away. Most temporarily, some permanently -- in which, chalking his fate up to Jonathan, your coworker was definitely the latter.

Honestly, you weren’t very surprised when you found out Jonathan was, for lack of better word, murdering people. Specifically, people he deemed a “threat” to you.

Jonathan had always been… a touch too overprotective. Territorial, even. It was far subtler in college, but you supposed that was because you’d seen him everyday; with both of you trekking through your hellish career aspirations, you couldn’t see each other as often as you had back in school. It was like that saying-- absence makes the heart grow fonder.

You’d first met Jonathan in GSU’s large community library, after you dropped a book on his head. You were on one side of the bookshelf, he on the other, and you were trying to grab a book on a too-tall ledge. Instead of getting your measly grip on it, it went backwards and smacked Jonathan right in the rimless frames. It was a meet-cute, sort of, with you apologizing profusely, him brushing your worries off with that irritatingly charming smile of his, and then helping you with any books you needed (a clear advantage of his height) for the rest of the day.

From there you became close friends. He always knew the right things to say, had various fascinating interests (half of them coinciding with your own), and was always, without fail nor doubt, an absolute darling. He never poked or prodded into information you didn’t want to tell him (at least not yet), constantly staying polite, respectful, eloquent, and patient.

You knew now why and how your relationship had escalated like so: you suspected he’d been one of those “creeps” hanging around you, long before the library incident in your early college days. You first began adoring him for the most part because it felt like he understood you perfectly, unknowingly adhering to all your creature habits, liking all your hobbies, and knowing every word that could make you let your guard down like you’d been friends for years. It all made sense now-- he’d collected said information just from watching you for so long.

Thus the “meet cute, sort of”; Jonathan had probably been planning the moment for months. Polite, respectful, eloquent, patient.

Why you? Well, you didn’t know either. Getting psychological about this, you probably reminded him of a relative he adored - some Freudian aspect coming into play, y’know? But it all boiled down to one constant fact: he was obsessed with you.

It should’ve scared you, and it probably would’ve, back in college, but it didn’t now. His type was a dime a dozen, incredibly hard to come by; the kind of guy who you know you can trust, rely on, know without a doubt he will never leave.

Even if you and Jonathan were just friends, you suspected in his sweet, beautiful, sick and twisted mind he’d long since considered you his — and, similarly, since finding out his secret, you began thinking of him as yours. Perhaps not yours romantically, but more like you owned him. He was the ever-present lucky charm in your pocket, the one who reminded you that you’d been loved before so you’ll be loved again, your constant support.

“How’re you feeling?” Jonathan’s worried voice crackled out of your beat-up phone, startling you back to reality. You were hiding in your car while on break, not keen on talking to any of your coworkers or bosses in the cafeteria, when you’d gotten a call from him.

“A lot better, actually.” You said, taking a bite of your lunch and trying to sound relieved rather than giddy. “…He went on vacation.”

Jonathan hummed on the other end of the line. You could hear the grin in his tone, but he quickly coughed, smoothing out the cheerful jitters in his voice. “Really? That’s rather… well-timed.”

You shrugged, as if Jonathan could see you, “Whether it’s about me, or not, I’m just… glad I don’t have to see him.”

“Know that I agree wholeheartedly– the thought of him being near you made my stomach turn.” He let out a sigh, like his nerves were finally relaxing, “How about you come over tonight? I can make us a nice dinner, you can stay over if you want-- I regret leaving you alone last night… you were terrified.”

You bit your lip. When it came to Jonathan actually getting, well, romantic, you hesitated. Did he really want you, or was it his obsession kicking in? You knew he loved who he thought you were: a frail girl he needed to protect, not knowing you’d been using him to your heart's content since you found out his dirty little secret.

You were running out of fingers on your hands to count how many people you’d directed him to… clean up. First it was little targets, like the barista at your usual coffee place who’d flirt and always take too long making your drink, causing several lates at work. More recently it was the landlord of your apartment, who’d raised the rent three times in one month; after she died, the ownership went to her absent-minded son who reset the prices to the original, more-than-comfortable regular rate.

But… you supposed you could humor him. A reward of some sorts; an unknowing treat to your obedient, sweetheart guard dog. “I’ll stop by, then,” you responded delicately. “I… didn't want you to leave either, Jon,” you murmured, before quickly hanging up.

Later, after work, you’re driving to Jonathan’s with a bottle of white wine. You did these kinds of things for eachother -- little gifts, you mean -- often. Yesterday, he visited your flat with pastries from a bakery you liked all the way down in Old Gotham.

“Chardonnay,” Jonathan commented when you arrived, ushering you through the front door with a squeeze to the thigh and gently inspecting the bottle. “You know me so well.”

“Dare I say the best,” you grinned, pressing a friendly peck to his cheek and handing him your evening coat before traversing into his house’s large kitchen, swiping a finger-dip into the various dishes he had laid out in the middle of cooking.

“At least don’t touch dessert,” he pouted, quickly hanging your coat in his entry closet and trailing behind you. But his expression still cracked into a loving smile when he saw you sneak your pinkie-finger into a chocolate custard.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be patient,” you backed off with a cheeky smile, arms up in the air and opting to hoist yourself on an empty counter and watch him resume cooking.

“How thoughtful of you,” he responded sarcastically.

It didn’t take him long at all to finish up, and your eyes were trained on his sinewy figure the whole way through; the careful way he cooked, the absolute attention to every detail.

Sure, you could say that was because Jonathan was a detail-oriented person (because he was), but you also knew it was because he was nervous, fumbling to impress you-- you noticed these kinds of things a whole lot more after finding out. Like how he gave you his coat when you went out together late at night and it was cold, how he often kept you close with a hand to the small of your back, how intently he listened to your every word, like it was the last thing he’d ever hear.

“Like what you see?” Jonathan joked when he was done, urging you to sit down across from him and handing you the chardonnay poured in one of his wine glasses.

“M’just admiring your cooking skills,” you explained sweetly, taking the glass and sipping it mildly.

Jonathan’s eyes crinkled, lips curling into a sheepish smile. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to: he radiated delight. You swore you could see pink dusting his high cheekbones, a feverish blush burning from his ears to his pale neck.

From there, dinner went on with some friendly chatter, his skillful dishes, and several more glasses of chardonnay. Nothing ever got old with Jonathan-- he listened well and he spoke gently and he revered your every word; you felt important just by being near him, he was so devoted.

By the end of the night, however, you were feeling rather light-headed- veering on the edge of unconsciousness: “I think I’ll - take you up on that offer, Jon…” you murmured, trailing off and getting up from your seat. It was odd, surely, how quickly a mere white wine had gotten you drunk, but then again you’d been housing a nearly-full glass every few minutes. You lost your drink count ages ago.

Jonathan, ever the gentleman, stopped tidying up immediately. “Good judgment,” he nodded agreeably, coming to your aid and picking you up bridal style. Your head swam at the sudden movement, his feet swiftly heading down the hallway, but his gentle voice quickly aided the dizziness: “Don’t force yourself and don’t worry, just sleep…”

“M’sorry,” you whispered, holding him tightly by the lapel, more words on the tip of your tongue, but he just shushed you, “didn’t help.”

“That’s quite alright, my love,” he replied lowly, entering his bedroom. He pressed an uncharacteristic kiss to your forehead and let you down onto his cushy mattress, watching how quickly your eyes dropped. You were certainly feeling the effects of the glass he laced now-- and then you were out.

Jonathan needed to have you now, under his protection, and he’d achieve that through any means necessary, be it liquid melatonin or anything else…

“You’ll have plenty of time to help later. You’re home now.”

iii.

“Sorry about… last night,” you said the next morning when you got up, rubbing your eyes sleepily and padding into Jonathan’s kitchen.

You found him leaning against his marble countertops, gently sipping down a mug of black coffee within his calloused grip, and he raised a brow amusedly. “You said the same thing in your sleep.”

Your gaze darted away from his own at the sudden embarrasssment. “Nonetheless… thanks, Jon. I’ll be out of your hair immediately-- I’m actually rather late for work. I kept a dress here last time, right?”

He set down his mug with a dull clink, and in your rambling, he’d made his way right in front of you. “No need,” he murmured, to which you tilted your head in confusion.

“I already called in for you. You’re not going to work today.” He explained, a thin smile coming up to his face, eyes gleaming.

You laughed awkwardly, suddenly feeling trapped at the way he took slow steps forward, making you backtrack into the wall. “What are -- Jonathan, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you leave.” Jonathan insisted with a nod, expression knitted in a way you knew he thought he was doing the right thing.

‘“Let me’ leave? Is- is this a joke? Because it’s… it’s not a funny one,” you stuttered, heart beginning to hammer in your chest at the way he looked down at you. It was like he was watching a wounded animal-- in a way, you felt like it… and Jonathan was clearly your predator.

“It’s not a joke, dear. Gotham’s gotten too dangerous for you,” he informed you softly, hands coming up to hold your face lovingly. His steps stopped, and you felt it: he’d finally pinned you against the wall, and there was no escape. “That coworker of yours was the last straw. My heart aches at the thought of what he could’ve done to you.”

“I - that wasn’t…” You trailed off, cringing at the way he leaned in further, his hot breath fanning on your cheeks -- how helpless you were against his advances.

You knew something was going to happen when Jonathan couldn’t just stay on the sidelines anymore, but you didn’t think it’d happen like this. You thought it might end with him professing his love to you, pleading and begging you to indulge him fully. That he’d fume and sob at rejection… that he’d let you go.

But Jonathan was like a ticking time bomb: with every victim you gave him, moments were ticked off his clock. It seemed that your coworker was the last second… and that he’d had enough of his frail darling being surrounded left and right by threats to take care of. He knew it’d all be so much easier if he could keep you safe in one spot, a place only he could enter.

“That wasn’t what? My god, I knew I couldn’t leave you all alone like that anymore… you’re too sweet, too innocent to know what’s gone too far,” he shook his head pityingly, unaware how hypocritical his words were.

“Jonathan,” you looked up at him, breath catching at the way his fingers dug into your neck, “what are -- what are you going to do to me?”

He let out a sharp laugh, “Do to you? Oh… no, my love, I won’t be doing anything to you… no, I’ll be keeping you safe.”

“Safe?” you repeated incredulously, “but what about - my life? My friends? My family? My job?”

He shushed you, not unlike he had done just the other night, or the night before that, “You don’t need to worry about any of those trivial things anymore. You have me. I’ll give you anything -- no, everything you want.”

Your lips parted and closed, unable to come up with a response that may cause him to realize the sheer insanity of what he was saying. He’d gone too far… had slipped too deep into the infatuation while you weren’t looking.

Then, Jonathan wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and immediately invading your nostrils with the scent of his cologne. It had been nice, once, but now it sickened you: how quickly that scent made your head swirl and your stomach clench… how quickly Jonathan had went from a darling pet of yours to a terror of unimaginable size.

Fuck, you thought, fuck, you’d been playing with fire this whole time-- you had been playing with fire while being naive and underestimating and wholly stupid.

You’d completely underestimated the depth of his commitment; how Jonathan was the kind of man who loved one and only one, and that there was no letting go with him. That once he had his claws in your skin, there was nothing that could stop him.

But then, you remembered your thoughts from just two days prior-- you had him whipped. It was like a lightbulb went off; you knew you could use that, use his mindless, adoring obsession to you…

“Jonathan,” you murmured under your breath, too quiet for him to hear as he hummed lovingly above you. “Jonathan,” you repeated, louder this time, pushing him away and startling him.

He blinked rapidly, fixing his glasses that had gone askew in your sudden movement. “What is it, my love?”

“You -- you love me, do you not?” you asked, swallowing the cowardly dryness in your throat.

Jonathan nodded vehemently, inching closer, desperate to have you in his arms again. “Nothing in the world could compete with my love for you. Nothing.”

You exhaled shakily, putting your hands out in a poor way of creating more distance between you two. “I - I love you, too. I love you.”

You saw Jonathan’s face light up at your sudden confession, saw how his demeanor changed from hesitant to beaming. “You love me?”

“Yes, yes, I do,” you insisted, panting as beads of sweat rolled down your back, “and I’m telling you… I won’t anymore, not if you keep me here. If you truly love me, you won’t trap me here.”

“It’s because I love you that I plan to keep you here,” he frowned, before grabbing you by the extended wrist, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you in a deathgrip.

“But you love me,” he repeated in amazement, pressing rough kisses along the side of your neck that had you whimpering, “so you’ll understand. God, how I’ve longed to hear those words leave your mouth.”

Jonathan had gotten tunnel vision at this point, barely registering your pleas, and when he began pawing at your clothes, apparently in some kind of delusion that your “confession” was a lustful one… you jumped ship.

He thought your confession meant he had permission to have a taste of you, and while it made your knees buckle and your throat burn, if it meant he might finally fucking listen, let you convince him to let you leave… so fucking be it.

The two of you then stumbled back down his hallway to the bedroom, tugging at each other’s garments while pressing hungry kisses on one another. You played along dutifully, trailing your hands along his back while tugging off his jacket, and other articles of clothing.

Entering the bedroom at last, Jonathan gently pushed you down onto the springy bed, having long since undone you-- you were left in your lacy underwear from the night before: black bra, black stockings, lacy thong hidden beneath it.

You wore thongs because they didn’t leave any panty lines under your thin pencil skirts, but you were quickly regretting the choice when Jonathan crawled onto the bed and roughly tugged down your stockings, surely leaving holes and runs in them, and let out a lecherous groan at the sight.

“God, I love your body,” he purred, hands hungrily groping your thighs and throwing your ruined stockings off to the side. “Can’t believe how long I waited for this.”

You closed your legs on instinct shyly, but he just as quickly pried your legs apart, leaning in and pressing sweet kisses along the soft flesh. “Jonathan…” you whimpered, trying to act needy, like you wanted him so bad-- in reality, you wanted to get this over with.

You reckoned if you let him fuck you, get him pussywhipped, you could promise you’d adore him wholeheartedly if he just fucking let you leave his house. You couldn’t deny how his ministrations made you feel, though; his plush lips brushing along your clothed cunt made tingles run up your spine, made your heart beat in a way that was anticipatory rather than terrified.

“Let me take care of you,” he promised, slipping off your panties and leaving your lips bare. You would’ve hissed at the cold, but the noise died in your throat as you saw Jonathan ball up the lace and press it to his face, inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” Jonathan groaned, and you almost gagged. “Wonder how good you’ll taste…” With that, he pressed his face between your legs and began lapping up your wetness, and you felt a gleeful smile tug at his face.

You gasped at the sudden action, bucking up into him on instinct. Your cheeks burned with shame, but you still choked on an unwarranted mewl when Jonathan’s tongue slipped inside your sticky hole and felt along your velvet walls.

He couldn’t exactly speak, with his mouth trained artfully on your cunt, but he let out an unintelligible noise of approval. All of this made you nauseous, your insides twisting in disgust, but your body reacted the opposite, pussy pulsing and clenching around him.

It was just -- fucking criminal how skillful he was with that long tongue of his, licking long stripes up and down, suckling on your clit, searching for the spongy spot in your cunt that he knew he couldn’t find without his cock, but wanted to make you squirm anyway.

You felt that familiar pressure building within you, his tongue going down on you faster, making shameful squelching noises echo around the room. He was hitting every pressure point, something you hadn’t felt in… well, honestly, you weren’t sure you’d been eaten out like this ever…

The thought you were enjoying this, that he might actually make you come made you queasy, and your hands tangled through his locks, pulling him away. “Want - want your… your cock,” you panted, shaking your head when he tried to bury himself in your sex again.

Jonathan frowned, going from all fours to sitting on the backs of his heels. “Baby…” he said, hesitant. You knew he wanted to take his time, worship you, treat you lovingly, but you were getting confused… losing yourself to the pleasure, forgetting you were doing this to stop him from holding you captive, not because you actually wanted it.

You pouted, and, to prove your point further, you pressed one of your feet onto his extremely noticeable bulge, fondling it softly. He nearly doubled over at the much needed friction to his neglected cock, and then Jonathan finally let go of all his inhibitions, giving into his primal needs.

He quickly undid his belt buckle and fly, slipping out of his suit trousers. Your heart sank at the reveal of his size; the imprint of his cock looked extremely intimidating, and that was beneath his boxer shorts.

It seemed your thoughts showed on your face, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, leaving an embarrassing amount of your wetness on the skin. “It’s okay, my love,” he reassured, “your pretty pussy can take me.”

You nodded hesitantly, your teeth capturing your bottom lip and nipping at it nervously as you watched him completely undress… his cock wasn’t very thick, but boy, was it long, coloured a delicate pink hue that was pretty and aching, but you knew he wouldn’t be using it delicately at all.

The way he looked at you, almost feral, eyes dragging over every curve and practically melting at how your hole gaped for him had you wanting to cover up, run away-- but you held still and forced yourself to brave through it.

You only need to do this once, you repeat mentally, only once, and you can convince him to let you go.

Jonathan didn’t waste any time touching himself or anything like that, he merely crawled atop of you and slotted himself between your shuddering lips. “So wet,” he grunted, slowly pushing his cockhead in.

Despite his words, and the terrifyingly glaring feeling of your wetness, you still winced at the stretch; your back arched at the intrusion, your arms wrapping around his neck and digging your fingernails into his back just from the pain of his tip at your entrance.

He slid the rest of the way in jiltedly, and you let out a pained gasp, then a helpless whimper, and finally, his name, your voice weak and raspy as he laid his weight on your torso, panting at how you soaked him. His unruly length was going deeper than you thought possible, and your mind went fuzzy with fear at how it’d feel when he actually started thrusting in and out. You could only pray he didn’t break you.

“You did it, dear,” Jonathan announced proudly, pressing a kiss to your lips this time. You shuddered at the intimate gesture, but he didn’t seem to notice, and slowly pulled out, before slamming back in.

You swore you saw stars, tears welling in your eyes at the rough action, and Jonathan placed his hands on your hips to soothe you by rubbing circles into the skin. “Full,” you choked out simply.

Apparently, he thought that was praise, and he repeated the action, falling into a steady rhythm of slow but brutal thrusts. It had you gasping for air each time, the sting in your lower-half almost unbearable, but you suddenly felt yourself falling into a morally muddled, puzzling state of mind: he was practically torturing you with his length, but he was also whispering sweet nothings in your ear, gently massaging your rear.

“You’re so -- fuck, thats a tight pussy -- beautiful,” he’d murmur, hanging his head low into the dip of your collarbone, “so beautiful.”

But, as you had to keep reminding yourself, you didn’t want this-- this was just the only way you’d escape. You didn’t want to be fucked by him, and most of all, you didn’t want him.

That train of thought was thrown out the window, however, when Jonathan’s hands suddenly hooked under your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. You were pulled further beneath him, and his cock went even deeper, punching up against the spongy spot in your pussy.

You moaned; feverish, loud, wanton, and Jonathan drank it in fiendishly. From there, he knew where to thrust, pounding in and out of your cunt and hitting that spot everytime. The pain fell away into a sickly pleasure, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at how deliciously he was fucking you.

“Jonathan!” You mewled, digging your heels into the small of his back. He was relentless, ruthlessly rutting his hips into yours and gripping your thighs so tight there’d be hand-shape sized bruises littering your body later.

“You like that, darling?” he groaned proudly, pushing your hips further down his cock. “God, you love it, don’t you? I can feel you squeezing me…”

Your fucked out mind couldn’t discern between your lustful thoughts and your logical ones; you couldn’t help how you nodded, how you pleaded for more, despite the terror swimming in your gut -- despite how the sober part of yourself weeped.

Then, it was like a tight rubber band around your stomach snapped; the pleasure that had been building in your gut burst, sending electric shocks of ecstasy running through your entire body. You saw white for a moment, your toes curling along his back as your thighs shook, your moan coming out terribly loud and sounding every bit his name. You didn’t mean to, of course, not again, but your mind filled in the gaps: Jonathan was fucking you, so Jonathan deserved the praise.

“Fuck!” Jonathan growled, “You came so hard… all because of this cock, all because of me.” Then, he began slamming his cock into your quivering hole quicker, desperately chasing his orgasm.

It was only then in your foggy, post-high mind did you realize he’d never used a condom… you weren’t on anything, you hadn’t been for years, and the way Jonathan was fucking into you gave no indication he was stopping. The thought of him coming inside made your blood run cold; there’d be no escape, you’d be fucking finished—

“Jon-- Jon, pull out,” you instructed weakly, trying to push him off you and watching how his focussed face tensed and tightened with the oncoming orgasm.

“Sweetheart,” he panted with a frown, “what’re you talking about?”

“Please,” you whimpered helplessly, “just - just please pull out… don’t come inside, please!”

“I’m afraid not, my love,” He grunted, baring his teeth and hammering into you faster, “m’gonna paint your walls white… get you nice and pregnant, fuck, no-one’ll have to question who you belong to…”

“Don’t, no, no -- Jon, please,” you begged, struggling to get away from his assault on your cunt as he pressed his weight further onto you, pinning you down against the bed.

But Jonathan wasn’t listening to you, not anymore. “Gon’ come, fuck, gon’ come,” he repeated, his thrusts stuttering, and you could only let out a grievous cry when you felt his cock twitch, hot spend spilling deep within you.

Jonathan laid on top of you for a moment, pressing his forehead against your sweaty chest, before leaning back and pulling out of you. The painful stretch was reawakened, and your tears really came this time, large sobs exiting your mouth as you crumpled into a ball on the mattress.

“Oh, my love,” he called your pet name with a furrowed brow, crawling closer to you, “what’s wrong? Was it too much? I know how delicate you can be…”

God, you could’ve screamed. He was still treating you like his little lamb… but you were beginning to feel that way, too; feeling like someone helpless he needed to protect. With the way you bunched up devastatedly beside him, it felt like Jonathan had fucking broken you, and then put you back together again with that doll image in mind. Not all the pieces fit the way he wanted them to, but Jonathan had time and brute force to fix all that…

“You -- you… I’m ruined,” you weeped, unable to explain properly with how terrified you felt, bringing your hands up to your face to shield yourself from him.

Your plan had no future of fruition, not anymore… you’d fucked him so you could convince him you were trustful enough to leave and still be his, but you’d fallen into his trap; fucking him was the way he attached a ball and chain to your ankle.

His hand curled around your wrist roughly, pinning it to the bed and letting his other brush a tear from your eye. “No, no, you’ll be the most gorgeous mother I know… your tits and your stomach all swollen like that? I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

Jonathan said that like you wanted him to be all over you, and it only made your cries wrack through your body harder. He then pulled you close to him, pressing your tear-stained face to his chest, letting you sob into him like he brought any comfort at all.

You suddenly felt him press up to your entrance and your tears stopped momentarily, a fearful whine exiting your mouth instead.

At your noise, he pet you gently, reassuringly, “Don’t worry… I’m just keeping us warm… keeping my come inside, my love.” With that, Jonathan slowly slid his length past your aching lips, until he was seated so deep within you his cockhead brushed up against your cervix.

His cream squelched within you and coated himself, feeling terribly slick and sticky between your thighs; you wanted to throw up there was such a large amount of it marking you from the inside.

“God, how d’you already feel brand new… need to do this more often….” he grunted the praise, and you felt shame colour you entirely.

But despite that shame and the terror swelling in your chest, the fact him within you was a surefire way none of his seed went anywhere but inside, his cock resting there did feel nice, like his rough fuck molded your pussy to fit him perfectly.

It was confusing… all of it very mind-boggling; how his actions petrified you while still making you feel nice and appreciated and loved… how his obsession was possessive and toxic but all at once delicate and thoughtful… how you felt yourself cry because he’d come inside you but was slowly succumbing to a sweet and comfortable sleep within his wiry arms.

There was much time to make sense of your amalgamated terror and love later, however. Nine-months long, to be exact: you later woke up to Jomathan pummeling his leaking, hard cock back into you. All you did was whimper, keep limp as he used you-- there was no choice fighting back, not anymore; not since he’d fully marked you… impregnated you… made it so there was no way you were ever leaving him.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #batman begins #does anyone see the parallel between the first part and the last part #scarecrow x reader #dc scarecrow

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letterstotheflre · 2 years

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𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐓 || 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

summary: what’s eddie supposed to do when you look that hot? not touch himself? oh please, he knows you're not that dumb [eddie x bimbo!reader]

cw: smut || 18+ only [ft. m and f masturbation, eddie being a bit of a perv, technically a bit of voyeurism since you watch each other masturbate, squirting, cum play]

a/n: let’s pretend yesterday never happened shall we 😃 this was inspired by this post a little while ago! || SPOILER FREE!

Eddie swears he’s not doing it on purpose. Honest to God, he’s trying his best to focus on what you’re saying, but the sight of your soft thighs and the short plaid skirt that barely covers the top of them turned it into a very hard task.

It’s not the only thing that’s hard. His cock stirs inside the confinement of his boxers, rising with arousal when you turn and your skirt flares out, exposing the folds of skin where your ass meets your thighs.

Your mouth is moving, glossy lips rounding the words, something about the top you’re holding up against your chest. You’re rambling about the pattern or maybe how in season it is, and that you can’t wait to wear it tomorrow for his band’s weekly gig. “Wait ‘till you see this!” you exclaim giddily, turning around once more.

Eddie is gifted with a clear view of the back of your thighs now that you’re looking through the many bags you brought from the mall. He can gaze freely at the little dimples on your flesh, along with a couple of faded bruises in the shape of his mouth on the inner side.

He’s thrown back into the memory of last night, recalling the needy sounds he pulled from you and your desperate, grabby hands pulling on his hair to detach him from your legs and dragging him to where you needed him most. He remembers how you keened when he licked your pussy, not leaving a single crevice untouched by his wet muscle; how your thighs clenched around his head when you came and how you sobbed as kept going.

Eddie’s thankful for the thick comforter that covers his lower half and hides the very obvious tent he’s sporting. It allows him to press his hand against it in search of a little relief. Unfortunately, it backfires– it makes him harder, the knot in his stomach tightening. He has to bite his lower lip to keep his needy moan in.

Something clatters to the floor and pulls him out of his daydream.

“Oops,” you giggle, throwing him an embarrassed smile before leaning down to pick up whatever it is you dropped. Your skirt rides up with the movement and… oh.

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat as soon as he sees the purple of your lacy panties. If he can even call them that– they barely cover more than a third of your ass and are almost more see-through than glass.

Before he can even realise what he’s doing, he hastily frees his cock and gives it a good pump, his eyes closing at the feeling. He drags his hand up and down slowly, picturing himself bending you over your vanity and flipping your skirt– no, scratch that. He’ll keep it like it is right now, watch it bounce every time his hips crash into yours. He’ll pull your panties to the side, of course, and push his cock into you with no warning except for the kiss he always leaves on the back of your head when he’s fucking you from behind.

And you’ll gasp as he stretches your little hole around his cock, the cute way you always do. He’ll have to keep you upright, probably snake an arm around your waist. It’ll be useful, too– that way he can rub your clit with the tips of his fingers and make you clench even more.

He strokes himself as discreetly as he can, making an effort to keep a straight face now that you’re facing him and talking his ear off again. He’s given up on trying to decipher what you’re telling him, but he still groans a non-committal “mhm” in hopes of keeping you distracted long enough to blow his fucking load.

He should really work on his acting skills, though.

Your face drops, shoulders sinking with it. “That’s your reaction?” you pout. “I thought you’d be happier, Eddie.”

“Huh?” he pauses his movements, holds himself firmly at the base.

“The necklace,” you swing it in front of him like he’s an idiot. “Y’know, it has horns… and your Hellfire shirt has a devil on it…”

If he were in the right state of mind he’d probably be jumping around like a maniac and kissing you soundly, begging you to turn around so he can put it on you. Knowing himself, he’d throw you on the bed and fuck you with nothing but that necklace on, whisper in your ear how hot his little devil is.

But right now all he can think about is you strolling around town proudly with something that marks you as his– everyone knows who the local devil worshiper was. And even if that false accusation brought him grief not too long ago, you not caring about the fact that you’d be associated with him, probably even made an outcast, makes him hot all over.

The chain looks pretty long too. The perfect length to rest between your breasts and bounce against them as you walk.

Fuck. He pumps himself again, feels a drop of precum fall down his hand. “Right, right,” he nods. “It’s really cool, babe. Super cool.”

“Cool?” you mumble to yourself, frowning. You glance at his face, taking note of his sweaty forehead and his flushed cheeks.

Oh no, was he sick? Here you were, showing off your purchases and getting mad that he wasn’t paying attention to you when he clearly wasn’t feeling his best.

“Are you okay? You’re really red,” you wonder and get closer to him, hand outstretched to take his temperature. You brush back his fringe and place the back of your hand on his forehead, wrinkle the space between your eyebrows while tilting your head to the side. “And really hot, too.”

His eyelashes flutter close at the concern in your voice. You’re so sweet to him, so caring and doting even when he doesn’t deserve it. It should make him guilty, really, but it only makes him hornier. “I’m f-fine,” he stutters on a moan.

His eyes fly to yours, which are already wide open and staring straight at his soul. Then they slowly drift lower, down his naked inked chest and to the moving outline beneath the sheets. Shit, he thinks. He couldn’t even stop touching himself.

He calls your name when you grip them, voice coated in shame but it’s no use– you’re stubborn when you want to. Even more so when he doesn’t listen to you talk about your shopping sprees and doesn’t pay attention to your hauls.

You pull the sheets away and there it is, his ringed-clad fingers wrapped around his cock, which is red and leaking and so, so desperate for attention. Goosebumps rise on his skin at the sudden rush of cool air.

“Were you really touching yourself while I showed you my clothes?” you ask a little breathless, tongue darting out to lick your dry lips.

Eddie wants to curl into a hole and die. Or the Earth to swallow him whole. He’s not very picky at the moment. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, cheeks as red as a wildfire. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, you just– that fucking skirt. And you leaned down and your–your panties. Fucking purple– what are you doing?”

You blink up at him as you climb onto the bed, staring at him from between his legs. “I wanna see,” you say innocently, making yourself comfortable.

“See…?” Eddie trails off, mouth dry as a dessert.

You smile sweetly, like you’re not asking him to do something incredibly dirty. “See you touch yourself, duh.”

He chuckles awkwardly, scratching his scalp with his free hand. “Are– are you serious?”

“Mhm,” you nod. Your fingers wrap around his wrist and slowly move his hand up, forcing him to pump his cock. Eddie exhales shakily, watching you intently and gauging your reaction. You don’t seem to be that angry or disgusted. Actually, you seem pretty entertained making him play with himself in front of you.

Your bracelets dangle and clink against each other as you move both of your hands. “S’the least you could do, y’know, after not paying attention to me.” When Eddie’s hand reaches the tip under your guidance, you force his fingers to close around it tightly, squeezing it until his hips stutter. “Can I see you play, Eddie?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck.” He nods repeatedly, like one of those dolls with the big heads. You let go of him when you’re sure he’s not going to stop, clenching your thighs together at the sight of your boyfriend desperately fucking his hand. “Can– can you show me your pussy, baby?”

Feeling nice and because he sounds so pretty and looks so desperate, you sit down and spread your thighs, throwing your legs over Eddie’s. His skin is scalding hot against yours.

You bunch your skirt around your waist so he can have a clear view of your clothed cunt, his favourite colour contrasting against your skin. At the sight of the purple lace, Eddie picks up his rhythm a little, just enough to make his toes curl. “No, no. Not like that. Show me my girl, c’mon.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to make so many demands, Eds. Not when you weren’t even listening to me.”

“I said I’m sorry,” he whines. “I’m sorry, baby. I am. You just– just look so pretty. So fucking hot in that skirt. Can’t help myself.” He notices the evidence of lust in your underwear and smirks teasingly, “You can’t either. I can see that little wet spot, y’want me too.”

You push your tongue against your cheek and play with your fingers. “S’not that,” you whisper.

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to be confused. “No?”

“Mm mm,” you shake your head. You trace your fingertips around the darkened patch of fabric, moaning softly as you tease yourself and see Eddie’s brown eyes covered in black. “S’your cum.”

“Jesus,” he curses lowly, throwing his head back. “Fuck, let me see. C’mon, stop being mean.”

You pull your panties to the side and show him your sticky folds, strings of white going across your inner lips and puffy clit and a drop of his seed coming out of your hole. Before it can hit the mattress you push it back in with your fingers, moaning at the sudden stretch.

Eddie could cum from just that. “Fuck, you’re so dirty. Such a dirty girl. Kept it inside that pretty little pussy since this morning?” You nod shakily, drawing tight circles on your clit with your free hand.

Eddie’s pumping himself furiously now, the slick and wet sounds of his fist bouncing between the walls of your bedroom. “Yeah? Walked around the mall with my cum dripping down your legs? And with a skirt that short... Shit, people definitely noticed. Naughty fucking girl.”

You curl your fingers up and scissor them when you pull them out, trying to mimic the way Eddie plays you. It’s not the same, but it still sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine and makes you whine desperately. “F-felt so good. Having you in me all day.”

“Fuck, you can’t say shit like that. Gonna make me cum so hard.”

“Please,” you whimper. You poke his side with your toes, “Please, wanna see you cum. Always so pretty when you do, Eddie. M-my pretty boy.”

You say it so dreamily, so desperate to see him unravel. His stomach tightens, his balls pulling up and getting ready to shoot his load when suddenly something wet hits his upper thighs and cock. It slips from his hand because of how wet everything is, and he scrambles to get a hold of it again and fucks into his fist until he feels raw, hips pistoning up and down in his desperation to cum. You’re crying out his name as you cover him in your liquids, Eddie’s mouth falling open in hopes of catching something, anything.

Before he knows it he’s cumming all over his stomach, his seed splattering against the dark ink of his tattoos. He’s shivering and panting, muscles twitching when your lips press against his tummy and kiss right over the drops of his cum. He moans as you slurp it up, your pink muscle moving up his sternum and then slotting your lips against his in a desperate, wet kiss.

Your tongue plays with his, making loops around it as you let his cum drip down his throat, feeding it to him. Eddie groans into your mouth, mumbles a curse when it spills from between his lips and down your chin.

You pull away to clean the mess off your face, forcing your sticky and wet fingers into his mouth so he can taste you too. He stares at you dazedly as he sucks on them, makes sure they are squeaky clean while you collect the creamy substance from your chin. When he’s done, he lets them go with a quiet pop! and grabs the back of your neck, tongue licking at the remnants of himself along your jaw.

You giggle at the weird sensation, dropping your weight on his chest and puckering out your lips for another kiss. “Will you listen to me talk about my new dress now?” you ask him, brushing away the flyaway hairs sticking to the side of his face.

Eddie laughs, giving your ass a firm slap and squeezing the fat, jiggling it lovingly. “I’m all ears, sweet thing.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #bimbo!reader

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mvltisstuff · 5 months

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how to never stop being sad - e.b

summary: bucks parents believe they can just forget what they put him through as a child, but y/n won’t let them.

evan buckley x reader.

og gif

a/n: i realized that buck found out about daniel way later than i thought… my image was the dinner for buck begins, and then my dumb brain thought he knew abt daniel for a while 😭 just pretend he knew while you read :))

bucks mother and father somehow think that evan doesn’t remember everything they did. they think he doesn’t care about every scream, every argument, every neglectful moment between him and his sister. but, really, buck remembers all of it.

he loves his parents and he always has, but he doesn’t understand why they make it so hard to like them. he craved love and affection from them, only to be met with their hand in his face and their words in his mind. he knows all about grief, it makes you a different person. he feels awful for his parents, but he wishes they could deal with it better than leave him in the dust.

on a brighter side, buck was finally able to stop begging for adoration. when y/n came into that station, his entire purpose was changed around. he knew he was made for loving her, and he was finally accepted. buck finally felt smart, loved, important to someone.

y/n left a mark on buck from the moment they met. he could tell by her bubbly but confident personality that they’d fit together like stars in the sky. whenever y/n was around, he never once felt like he was asking for the compliments or love she showered him with. she looked genuinely proud to call him her boyfriend, and it melted the heart of the little kid inside of him that just wanted someone to tell him that he was important.

she gave him everything his parents never did and she never once complained. y/n have buck a definition of love, and when someone asked him what it meant, he’d say her name.

now, even years after they’ve been dating, y/n never once spoke to bucks parents. maddie had told them he was in a healthy, happy relationship, but they never cared to check in on him. the days had drastically changed, along with the life of his sister.

she’s becoming a mother, so their parents are becoming grandparents. y/n didn’t really think it would be a problem that they came to visit, until it quickly backfired.

buck quickly realized that they weren’t here for him, and they he barely existed in their book. he hoped that maybe he was overthinking it, but noticed the lack of care they had of his life and the severe amount of judgement in their words. it’s like when they walked in the door, buck felt like the small boy standing at the top of the stairs for his parents again, or the teenager sitting at the table taking every insult they had.

their parents pulled out maddie’s “baby box”, but they must’ve left bucks at home to collect dust, if there was even anything to leave. they crazed over maddies belly and the life she was carrying, praising her for the life she had built for herself. buck just sat there, just wanting to go home and lay in y/n’s arms and get his own comforting.

the night of the dinner came rapidly, buck critiquing everything about himself in the mirror before he went, perfecting his words and his appearance before y/n came grabbing his hand. “it’ll be ok.”

“i know, it’s just been so long and i don’t want them to be rude to you, too,” buck sighs, turning to face y/n.

“they don’t hurt me, you know that. i just don’t want you to get upset.”

“let’s get this over with, yeah? and then we can come home?”

“don’t have to tell me twice.”

y/n and buck arrived soon after his parents, seeing them stand from off the couch with his mothers hands clasped together in front of her. maddie pulls y/n into her grasp from not seeing her due to a busy schedule. chimney and buck hug casually, even though they’d just seen each other. he notices his parents standing there, looking at y/n as she cautiously steps over.

“oh, mom, dad, this is y/n,” buck tells them, his hand landing on her waist. “my girlfriend.”

“it’s nice to meet you guys.” y/n says, exchanging awkward glances with his parents. they nod politely.

“y/n, we got your favorite!” maddie grins, holding a bottle of wine in her hands and looking at it long-fully. y/n laughs, walking over to take the bottle from her as they converse.

“maddie, i’ll make the table for you, sweetie.” their mother says, grabbing plates and napkins for everyone as she starts placing them by the seats.

“here, mom, i’ll help you,” buck says, offering a hand to his mother as y/n stands besides his father.

“so, y/n,” the tall man with the glasses speaks. “what do you do for work?” he asks, sipping his beer.

“oh, i work at the fire station with b-evan and howie.” she remembers the little things, the dislike of nicknames and how buck and maddie never had one. y/n can see the slight disappointment in her fathers face, but can’t quite place why.

“i see.” he says, his voice raising slightly but she can tell he’s slightly unimpressed. y/n just keeps pouring wine into her glass. maddie can already sense the tension, silently cursing her dad for the reaction he had.

“dad.” maddie whispers so buck doesn’t hear.

“yes, maddie?” he questions back, not understanding his tone toward the woman besides him that he’s known for twenty minutes.

“nothing, it’s fine.”

“hey, honey,” buck whispers in y/n’s ear, placing his hands on the counter in front of him.

“hi! how are you feeling?”

“i’m fine, it’s only been like a half hour.”

“i know, just checking in.” she places a hand on his cheek, making maddie smile at the affection she has toward buck.

the food had eventually been delivered, and everyone sat around the table to finally eat. buck pulled out y/n’s chair, letting her sit and then taking the one next to her. chimney sat with maddie, and then their parents took the other end of the table.

the conversation turned almost immediately into the subject of work, maddie talking about some of her calls and chimney speaking about paramedic duties. it seemed they had no interest about buck, not finding much impression in the details about his job, despite it being one of the strongest.

“well, speaking of hospitals, i’ve heard that evan has been spending a lot of time in them.” bucks dad speaks up, placing his napkin folded on the table.

“you’ve heard?” buck mutters under his breath, not wanting to cause a scene but secretly hoping they heard it. y/n could feel the burning tension between buck and his parents, so she ran his hand over his thigh, trying to find his hand that rested near his knee before locking fingers with him. “you could’ve seen for yourself.”

“oh, evan you know how-“

“you don’t like hospitals, got that.”

“i don’t like seeing my children in them.” the womans eyes start to water, thinking back to all the horrific times in the hospital. maddie mumbles to her mother before shaking her head, bringing her moms statement to a close. “we never lost hope on you, evan.”

“yeah, like you did on maddie?” he snaps, leaning back in his seat and staring down his parents.

“evan, let’s not do this.” maddie says, the discomfort clear in her face as everyone’s heart races, fearing the conflict in the room.

“you guys didn’t even go to her wedding, let alone go back for her when she made a mistake and you cut her off!”

their parents barely look at buck. “maddie, we didn’t know he was hurting you, i swear-“

“you should have! you should’ve known, but it checks out because you never knew what was going on even when we was living with you!” he stands up.

“buck, c’mon,” y/n speaks, attempting his hand before he gets too far away. he manages to slip out of her grasp, leaving her to rest her head in her hands as he continues.

“you think my job is dangerous- i have walked through fire every single day of my life because of you. that is why i’m in therapy! because nothing i ever did was good enough!”

“we tried! you guys didn’t make it easy on us” their dad speaks up, making y/n shoot her head up at the older couple at the table next to her.

“we were supposed to? we were kids.” maddie says sadly.

so, buck stands there, begging for love in the center of the room, feeling like a circus act. if he didn’t know better, he’d think they’d all be pointing and laughing at him. besides one. y/n sat there, staring at his parents before looking back at him. she stands up, letting buck try and grab her hand and walk out. if he wants to leave, she will always follow him.

he opens the door, and he steps out, unable to hear the next sentence from his mother.

“neither of you think about how hard it is for your father and i! you only think about yourselves!”

y/n stops in her tracks, “buck, go wait by the car i’ll be out in a minute.” he just goes out, not wanting to waste another minute in that room that he could be spending alone with y/n. “only think about themselves?”

“what?” their mother whimpers out.

“you’re insinuating that you have selfish children, and it honestly checks out considered how much you’ve missed. did you forget what your kids do? did you forget about the lives they save on a daily basis? maddie is the reason half of our calls come out successfully, and buck is one of the highest ranked for his position. and you want to call him selfish? you don’t get to call him anything until you take an actual look at his life. you don’t see him walk out of these buildings with scared and hurt children or people yelling in pain and he can somehow manages to give them hope! you don’t see the effect you have on him and it honestly breaks my heart for him. you don’t see how you casually ripped him up and expected other people to put him back together. you don’t deserve to just come back here and act like you’re completely innocent! you sit here and act like you are angels. truth is that evan did everything on his own and didn’t deserve the shit he got from you. the person he is today has nothing to do with you and you don’t get any credit for how he became the man he is.”

y/n doesn’t stay long enough to see the effect of her words on his parents. she can imagine the tears from the confrontation that their mother can’t handle. it infuriates her that they think they can fix the damage they did in a day, if they even think they did any.

she storms down the stairs, eager to see buck outside and make up for all the loving he missed previously. she sees him leaning against y/n’s passenger door, staring at the concrete with his arms crossed. his hair is lightly blowing in the wind along with his sweater being pressed against his body. y/n can see the subtle shimmering in his eyes as he looks at the ground and she can almost hear the cracks in his heart. it’s like they managed to add another wound to him, just confirming that they didn’t care about him.

y/n steps on the cement sidewalk toward him, her heels clicking loudly against the ground so he could hear her coming. he doesn’t look up. he keeps his eyes glued to the ground in almost a shameful way. he hates that he can’t stand up to his parents, and he hates that y/n had to do it for him, but he needed it.

“let’s go home, baby.” y/n says, standing at the front of the car. “buck.” she speaks his name again, anger still radiating off her body as she waits for him to look up at him. his head tilts up, looking at her as her gaze softens at his expression. she doesn’t hesitate to walk over and grab onto him, letting his body fall into her, taking some of the weight off his shoulders.

“i know, it’s ok.” she whispers into his ear sweetly as the tears run down his face. he doesn’t want to be sobbing in the parking lot with in his girlfriends arms, but he can’t help it.

he doesn’t bother to say anything, he just lets himself feel. he lets himself feel her hand rubbing his back and the other wrapped around his shoulders. he lets himself listen to the gentle words escaping her lips and allow them to soothe his mind. he lets himself tower over her and almost fall into her grasp and he lets her take over. he knows that she has him, and the safety net beneath him was built by her.

he might not have his parents support or their faith through his life, but the surplus that y/n gives to him is enough to fill every ocean in the world.

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st4rb3rr13s · 8 months

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Infatuation

❥Eren is so infatuated with you

GIRL IVE BEEN WRITING AND READING ALL DAY FREE ME !! FREE ME !! 😭😭 Btw this is NOT proofread. I will most likely never proofread my writing tbh.

Normally when you get a partner, you’re supposed to be obsessed with them. You think about them when they’re not there, talk about them with your friends, and try to be near each other all the time. People call it infatuation. The infatuation stage lasts about a couple of weeks to a couple a months. It’s supposed to wear off.

But not for Eren. Eren can’t get enough of you. The way your scent lingers through his house after you spent the night. He begged you to stay over longer but you just HAD to go back home. The way your glossied up pretty lips curve into a smile every time he talks. The way those lips give him a peck, leaving a stain. How you roll your eyes when he flirts with you. The way you nibble on your lip when thinking about something.

The way he talks about you to his friends, (especially the girls who try to hit on him) is just the sweetest thing, but can be annoying. He can go on for hours about you, and every little thing you do. Normally people have to tell him to shut up because he will not stop!! When he starts with his friends, Jean will roll his eyes while Connie says “Here he goes.” (Eren would say “That’s why you don’t have a girlfriend, because you both are fucking ugly.” And Armin would have to calm down the argument.(Happens every other day tbh.))

Eren would get items he sees that remind him of you. Sometimes it’ll be a flower other times jewelry. If he’s out with friends he’ll stop all of them before casually buying a pink stuffed animal (Jean would try to make fun of him but would backfire, badly.(Armin help them, again please.)) When he would get home, he’d hand it to you with this boyish grin on his face. He’d always tell you he’d get you something better next time.

He picks up on little things phrases or quirks you do. When he says a catch phrase you say to Mikasa, she’s give him the side eye but shrug it off. (Like why are you talking just like your gf rn??)

When Eren’s stroking his dick, all he could think about is you. Every time he’d come undone, his dick would get all hard again thinking of how gorgeous you looked today. He’d be fisting his dick 5 times before you knocked on his door. (You forgot your shirt(it has cum stains)).

Eren is so infatuated with you, and he’s never gonna stop.

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that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction · 21 days

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Remember that one scene where Arthur is training with Merlin and Merlin is fighting for his life while Arthur repeatedly knocks him on his arse? I can’t remember what episode but it was early in season 1.

I like to imagine Merlin starts being sarcastic with every hit in hopes it’ll piss Arthur off enough to storm off and leave him alone. It backfires when Arthur starts replying and it turns into a venting session.

Like, Uther said some dumb shit about Arthur? Merlin starts a fight about it.

The knights can’t follow orders? Merlin is disobedient enough that Arthur starts yelling about how dangerous it is when his men don’t follow orders.

Arthur’s feeling bad about someone he couldn’t save? Merlin makes him see why he’s doing enough by arguing with him about it and reminding him that he’s only human.

And Arthur knows what he’s doing, he catches on eventually and will occasionally walk up to Merlin, push his shoulder only enough to be annoying until Merlin stops whatever he’s doing, then Arthur will just say “Fight me.” and Merlin will either say something he knows will get Arthur angry or he’ll throw a punch he knows Arthur will block and they’ll start sparring. (Merlin learns to fight eventually, neither of them realise it’s happening until he sucker punches a bandit and he’s out cold)

Anyway, it becomes something they do to help Arthur vent his frustrations.

The best part? It works.

So Arthur sees Merlin upset. It goes on for about a week when Arthur realises what’s going on. He sits down next to Merlin on the floor one night, nudges his shoulder like he would if he wanted to fight, and says, “why are you upset? It’s not like you’ve got anything to worry about.” In a purposefully taunting way.

Merlin scowls and keeps working, and Arthur tries again, “Really. All you do is follow orders. It’s not hard.”

And so Merlin looks up, clearly angry until he sees what Arthur is trying to do, so he puts down what he’s doing and starts fighting back, “no, just exhausting when those orders are given by a prat.” Or “Maybe if I had a day off once in a while.” I don’t know, I suck at dialogue.

It goes on for a while, until they get too close to the issue, Merlin snaps, tells Arthur he’s a dick and sobs, yelling about magic, and the great dragon being manipulative, loosing his father, loosing Freya, Gaius lying to him about his father and thinking Uther is a good king and a good man, and literally everything else that’s gone wrong.

Arthur pulls him in and hugs him, then tells Merlin they’re fighting together from here on out. It takes a while, but they work it out.

There’s plenty of “fights” about Arthur feeling betrayed by Merlin keeping secrets and Merlin being mad at his situation in Camelot and then being frustrated that he can’t get himself to feel angry at Arthur (I’ve got a half baked character analysis for Merlin and Arthur’s codependency somewhere in my drafts. I’ll come back to it eventually.) but they’re okay and they figure it out and end up stronger for it.

I’m holding back on sharing the major character death/dark!Arthur angsty alternate ending for this, but let me know if you want to see it :)

Edit: Part 2 - (the angsty alternate ending)

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merthur #merlin bbc #headcanon #fic ideas #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #i’m bad at tagging #i'm procrastinating #another idea for a rainy day #said while it’s raining like that’s a rare thing here #another fic idea for when I don’t have other wips to finish first #fic writer #merlin x arthur #merlin and arthur

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

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Kissing Lessons

Summary: Reader teaches Vada how to do the do

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Language, smut, fingering

A/N: For the anon who asked for inexperienced top Vada and experienced bottom Reader. Its not reaaaally bottom behavior, but it's close enough. Vada really is the cutest though

“I want to do this.”

“Vada, we don’t have to. I was just curious.”

“It’s not my first time, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh?”

“Well, technically…I guess it’ll be the first time I really remember it. I was pretty drunk the first time.”

You drop your pen on your desk and spin around in your chair to face Vada. She’s in a sports bra and gym shorts, sitting cross-legged on the bed in your dorm. You met at the beginning of the semester two months ago and started dating pretty quickly after that. You were drawn to her, enamored with her small stature and giant personality.

She was beautiful, that much was true. With her thick dark hair, wide golden brown eyes, and soft bronze skin, she was the very image of beauty. But she was also funny and talkative, and sarcastic. The trauma she had endured so young left a mark on her, but she was resilient and able to recover after a few years and a lot of therapy. Every now and then, the backfire of a car exhaust or the slam of a dropped textbook made her flinch, but she carried on after a few deep breaths. You found yourself swiftly and inescapably falling for her.

And now she was sitting on your bed, half dressed and asking you to have sex with her. You wanted to, god did you want to. But you wanted it to be right and perfect and sweet. Especially now, finding out the only other time she’d done it, she was drunk.

You lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees, and smile softly at her, “Vada, I want to more than you know. But I don’t want to rush you. And I want it to be romantic.”

She opens her arms out, “This can be romantic,” she says, standing up on your bed in a rush.

You blink up at her, your love-struck smile stuck to your face. You could tell by her expression alone that she was about to dive head first into one of her word tsunamis, drowning you in her excitement and enthusiasm.

“See, we can…uhm…we can light a candle!”

She takes two bounding steps on the mattress and jumps off the foot of the bed, sliding in her socks to your dresser. She picks up the three wick candle there and lights it. She sets it back down and scans the room, tapping her chin with her pointer finger.

“Oh!” She scurries over to your desk, gently rolling you and your chair to the side as she reaches for your curtain above the window, “We can just…close…this…” she struggles up on her tiptoes, trying to undo the knot holding the curtain open.

She fumbles with it, the decorative rope just a hair too high for her reach. She sighs and looks down at you, “Can you reach this, please?”

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head at her. You stand and easily pull the knot loose, letting the curtain fall over the window. The room darkens, the faint sunlight fighting through the curtain and the fire from the candle painting everything in an orange hue. Vada’s hands are on your waist, pulling your attention back to her.

“See,” she says, her eyes on your lips, “now it’s romantic.”

You concede, deciding it couldn’t hurt to give her what she wants. You lean down and capture her lips in yours, letting her lead in intensity. She responds slowly but deeply, the passion in her making its way into you through her tongue on your lips and her hands sliding under your shirt. She walks you back to the bed, pushing you to sit when the backs of your legs hit the mattress. She pushes your knees apart and stands between them, your face in her hands. Your fingers cascade across her ribs, cherishing every inch of exposed skin they can touch.

Her hands are on your shirt, pulling at it. She breaks your lips apart and pulls it over your head, tossing it aside. She stares down at you, her lips parted, pulse hammering away in her neck. You pull her back down to you, kissing her again. She picks up the pace, her lips feverish and hurried. Her hands are all over you, and you have to admit, you want her more than anything. A soft groan involuntarily slips out of you, spurring her further. She’s coaxing you up the bed, climbing on top of you when your head hits the pillow.

She dives into your neck, licking and sucking at your skin, frantically trying to taste every inch of you. You laugh, running your fingers through her hair, and she sits back with a confused frown on her face.

“Slow down, I’m not going anywhere.”

She stares down at you and runs her hands from your hips up to your ribs, drinking in the sight of your half naked body.

“Sorry. I’m just excited.” She says, staring at her fingers trailing down toward your belly button.

“Don’t be sorry,” you tell her, reaching for one of her hands and guiding it over your breast, “take this off.”

She’s like a boy with the thrill that crosses her face. You stop yourself from laughing, you don’t want to discourage her. You sit up on your elbows and allow her to reach behind you to unclasp your bra. When she finally manages to unhook it, her fingers fumbling for longer than could be considered sexy, you pull it off your shoulders. Her lips part with a sigh, and her hands immediately follow her eyes. You sit up to wrap your hand around the back of her neck and pull her down on top of you, wanting to feel her weight settle on your body.

You pull her sports bra up and over her head with her help, and she flicks it aside. It catches on the arm of your desk chair, hanging there like a green flag. She sits back up, and her fingers are on the waistband of your shorts, her eyes wide and questioning. You nod, lifting your hips, and she slides them down your legs.

“Yours too.” You tell her before she can return to you.

“Right.” She says, her eyes wide.

She pulls her shorts and socks off and timidly leans back over you. You reach up and tuck her hair behind her ear, a comforting smile on your lips. You pull her down to you, your naked skin meeting hers for the first time, and she whimpers into your mouth. You kiss her lazily, letting her build her confidence, your hand skating across the plane of her back and up into her hair. She leans over on her left arm, her right hand slowly making its way down your body.

She pulls back from kissing you, speaking softly into your lips, “I have to be really honest with you. I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

You pull both hands up to hold her face, running your thumbs over her cheekbones. “How’s this, I touch you, and you touch me. Just do to me what I’m doing to you, and we’ll take it from there?”

She bites her lip, considering it, then nods slowly. You nod at her, double checking.

“Okay, yeah. I can do that.” Her voice wavers, but her hand is moving over your thigh, and you can feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest.

You slowly trail your fingers down her side, then around to her stomach. You stop just above her pubic bone, eyeing her. She takes a deep breath and nods again, waiting for you. You slide your hand between her legs, and your jaw drops open as your fingers find her center. She’s already wet, clearly excited, her body more sure than her mind. You gather up some of the fluid on your fingertips and begin to make small, tight circles over her clit. She gasps, her mouth open, closing her eyes.

You stop your fingers, smiling up at her, and she opens her eyes, her brow furrowed.

“You’re supposed to be following me, remember?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, “Oh shit, yeah, yes. Right.”

She runs her hand down your body, mimicking everything you had done with surprising precision. When she circles your clit, it takes everything in you to continue on her. You had wanted her for so long, you’re afraid you might fuck around and orgasm from the lightest of her touches. Luckily for you, she appears to be in the same boat, her breathing fast and heavy above you. You reach up with your free arm and pull her down into a kiss, picking up your pace between her legs. She moans into your lips and picks up her speed.

You’re incredibly shocked and proud at how quickly she’s able to follow suit. Then again, Vada is talented at many things. You have a feeling this is going to be one of them. And you’ll have plenty of time to practice. You’re about to slow your fingers and move them south, but she cums before you’re able to get there. Instead of letting her ride it out, you gently slip one finger inside of her, your intent to push her quickly into a second orgasm. Her eyes roll back, and her hand stops moving for a moment as her first orgasm crashes through her. She drops her head into your neck and rolls her hips down onto your finger, your thumb pressing into her clit.

She sucks in air through her teeth, groaning, “Oh shit y/n,”

“Keep going, Vada, don’t stop,” you encourage her, pressing your hips up to spur her on.

She picks her head back up and kisses you hard, sloppy, frantic. She starts moving her fingers again and follows you, pushing a finger inside of you.

“Oh god.” She groans into your neck, feeling inside of you.

You curl your finger inside of her, and she gasps, mimicking you immediately. You pull out, adding another finger. She’s so tight around you, you slow to give her a moment to adjust. She’s panting into the side of your neck, her head resting on your shoulder. You feel her relax around your fingers and start to move them again. Her teeth are on your neck, biting softly at your skin. She adds a finger, pumping her arm and curling them at the perfect moment. You can feel your orgasm building, inching you closer every time Vada curls her fingers and clenches down on yours. Her lips on your neck are like wildfire, burning your skin and simmering your blood.

She pushes herself back up on her elbow and kisses your lips, small noises escaping the back of her throat, her hips pushing back into you. She bites your lip and her thumb passes over your clit, and you’re careening off the edge. She watches your face with parted lips and wide eyes and then hers are sliding shut as she joins you.

She collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath, your sweat mixing together between your bodies. Vada shivers on top of you, clenching her legs around your thigh, still lost in the endorphin rush. You reach up and run your fingers through her hair, your body feeling heavy and satisfied. This is the quietest she’s been in a long time, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s fallen asleep. She shivers again, and you can feel her smiling into the skin of your chest.

She lifts herself up, her elbows on either side of your body, a wild smile on her face. Her hair is sticking up from you playing with it, and her lips are swollen and pink.

“That was fucking incredible.” She says, looking down at you.

You close your eyes and hum in agreement, running your fingers along her back.

“Can we do it again?” She asks, pushing herself off to your side to sit up.

You laugh and rest your hand on her leg, “Of course we can.”

“Right now?”

“Can you let me catch my breath?”

She leans back over you, her hair framing your faces, “No,” she says, planting quick kisses on your lips, “I’ll never let you catch your breath again. I’ll take your breath away!”

You smirk and lift your hips, pushing her over on her back and sitting on her hips. “You have some more learning to do, let’s begin with lesson two.”

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #vada x reader #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader

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munsoninthedark86 · 3 months

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I Guess It's Different Cause You Love Him(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of possible abuse, alcohol use, reader gets drunk, Eddie is weak for her word count: 1.4k pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Eddie hates your boyfriend. He does his best to be on his best behavior because he is your best friend, but Eddie knows you could do so much better than this fool. Still, he’ll bite his tongue and pretend to be supportive of this relationship. It just hurts when he watches the person he loves the most get shit all over.

Day after day, he sees the real you begin to disappear. The shine and glow of you fades as your boyfriend takes over more and more aspects of your life. Eddie wants to say something, but he’s so damn scared to lose you. He’s scared that if he tells you that this guy is bad for you that it’ll end up backfiring on you and you’ll only think that Eddie is jealous of your boyfriend.

And it hurts him so much to watch you begin to fade away. Your normally sunny smile is only half-assed these days. You were someone who would try decently well in school and in work, but now it would seem you’re doing so poorly. You even stopped coming to the Hellfire club meets, which ends up worrying everyone.

But you always try to pass it off as nothing. Eddie knows that you’ll barely open up to it because this asshole has got you convinced you’re happy. He sees how your boyfriend acts around you, especially when he thinks nobody else is around. Eddie sees the tired look in your eyes along with the heavy bags that begin to form under them. He sees the way you flinch whenever someone raises their voice just a little too loud.

This all culminates one night when someone at school begins passing around the rumor that your boyfriend has been cheating on you. At first you try not to believe it, but the more you hear it from people who give you sad and pitiful looks, it becomes obvious that this isn’t just a rumor. You’ve been played and you’re so embarrassed. You don’t even know who to turn to because you’ve just alienated yourself with the help of that asshole. You’re way too afraid to turn to Eddie, the man who you trust in the most. You’ve been hurting him the most, you realize as all of this comes crashing down.

The bar near your home allows you inside even if you aren’t quite of age. You know the patrons and the bartenders. They can tell you’re not doing well. So the bartender pours you a drink, which soon turns into two…then three…then four.

By the time you’re five drinks in, you’re more than tipsy. You’re absolutely drunk. You’re dancing to whatever song they’ve got playing on the jukebox, but it isn’t healing your heart. It won’t heal your heart ever. There’s not much that ever could. You find yourself sitting on a stool at the bar, your head in your hands as you try to steady yourself.

“You got someone to come pick you up, dear?” The bartender asks.

You’re about to say no, but then you remember Eddie. You nod your head and the bartender gives you money for the payphone in the corner of the bar. You sway as you walk over there, and you lean against the wall to steady yourself. The phone feels heavy in your hands, but you press it to your ear and you put the coin in the slot. It surprises yourself to be able to remember Eddie’s number while you’re in this state. After a few rings, you feel like crying because someone answers.

“Munson residence, Eddie speaking,” Eddie says on the other end, a mocking tone to his voice.

You half-sob, “Eddie can you…can you come pick me up?”

Immediately he’s freezing on the spot, worried about what’s going on with you. He had heard those rumors today too but he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He had wanted you to come to him for comfort.

“Babe, what’s the matter?”

“Come pick me up. I’m at the bar.”

You tell him the address and beg him to hurry. He can tell you’re not feeling well at all. So he quickly gets into his van and drives over to the bar. Once he arrives, he spots you just sitting outside. You’re obviously drunk and he feels so sorry for you.

“Eds…” you moan softly, clutching your head in pain.

Eddie is quick to pick you up, allowing you to lean on him. He’s not even really sure what to say just yet, so instead he focuses on getting you buckled into your seat.

Then he begins driving the moment he’s back into the driver’s seat. You moan in pain and you begin to cry. It’s breaking his heart to see you like this. Eddie feels guilty because he knows he should have been there for you. He should have done more for you.

“Honey,” he says softly. “Don’t worry. Things will be okay.”

You shake your head, “No…he made a fool of me.”

Eddie feels his heart wrench when you say this. It’s painful to see you hurting this way. So he drives you back to his trailer, knowing you’ll have a safe space to recover from being this drunk. Once you two arrive, he unbuckles your seatbelt and he guides you inside the trailer. You are so thankful that his uncle isn’t home right now. You don’t want him to think poorly of you.

“Easy there,” Eddie says as you begin to stumble. He’s guiding you towards his bedroom.

As the alcohol burns in your veins even more and your mind gets hazy, you allow Eddie to lay you on the bed. First he takes off your shoes, then he begins to remove your jeans. He takes off your shirt, gently caressing your shoulders before pulling on his old Iron Maiden shirt on you. Then you watch as he leaves you on the bed for a few moments.

When Eddie reappears, you’re so happy to see him. He’s got a bottle of water in his hands. He helps you sit up, and you relish in the feelings of his warm hands on your skin. He holds you close as he brings the bottle to your lips.

“Drink so slowly, honey.”

You try your best to take his advice, but the water just tastes so refreshing. Soon he’s pulling it away from you and he helps you lay back on the pillows. He pulls the covers up over you and he’s about to leave when you grab his hand and whine a little.

“Stay with me,” you pout. “Please, Eddie.”

His heart skips a beat when he sees how pitiful you are. You’re a sight for sore eyes, but he still thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. So without thinking too much, he shrugs off his jacket and kicks off his shoes. He slides under the covers with you, and immediately you cling to him. It feels natural to have you back in his arms like this.

“I’m such a fucking dumbass,” you mutter under your breath.

“No, you’re not. Stop thinking that way. That guy is such an asshole for playing you like that.”

Eddie thinks you might be too drunk to understand what he’s saying, but your heart flutters when he defends your honor. You cling a little tighter to him, and he presses the softest kiss to the top of your head.

“Why are you treatin’ me so good?” you ask, your words a bit slurred.

Eddie sighs, and he knows you might not remember this in the morning. “Cause I love ya,”

Your heart flutters again and you snuggle even closer. You know maybe he doesn’t mean it in the way you need it, but you still love hearing it from him. You smile sweetly at him, and he leans in to kiss your lips so softly.

“You’re my girl,” he finally admits. “And…I couldn’t even protect you.”

You sigh softly, “Eds…I don’t blame you for this. You are so wonderful.”

You two share another kiss, and he caresses your face so softly. You don’t even really know why you were dating that asshole…especially when you could have had this the entire time.

“Sleep now,” Eddie commands. “Sleep now and we’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”

You nod your head, “Kay…night night, Eddie.”

He holds you close, vowing to himself he’ll never ever let anything else hurt you like this. Never again will you know pain.

#munsoninthedark.writes #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things x you #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson imagines #Eddie Munson angst #stranger things angst

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jeridandridge · 17 days

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stelle splendenti (shining stars)

Not edited, it’s been a minute.

On Friday night after school Melissa and Jacob find themselves at a shared favorite restaurant sipping drinks and chatting like they do in their new found friendship.

“And then,” Jacob laughs, “then I did my walk of shame practically blind and almost tripped in the crosswalk on 5th.”

Jacob and Melissa howl with laughter in their booth, the redhead wiping her eyes. “Oh god, kid. I’m impressed.”

“Jacob what are you doing here?”

Looking up Melissa’s breath hitches when she sees the gorgeous woman next to their booth. “Stelle splendenti.” She whispers smiling at the stranger.

“Y/n!” Jacob stands up pulling the woman into a hug. “Melissa, this is my friend, I was just telling her about you recently.”

“You’re a friend of Jacob’s?” The redhead smiles gesturing for the stranger to sit.

“Yeah, this guy crashed on my couch for a few months and we’ve been friends ever since.” The woman smiles. “If I weren’t living in a shoe box it’d probably be the same set up now.” She chuckles.

“Ah it’s alright, Mel Mel and I are good friends now.”

Melissa nods trying not to stare at the woman, completely mesmerized by her eyes. She doesn’t know it, but Jacob catches on right away.

“Ya know, y/n, Melissa has a ticket guy for sports. I know you like the flyers, maybe we can all go to a match sometime.”

“Game,” Malissa and the woman correct him at the same time. “You like the flyers, hon?”

“I do,” she nods with a chuckle. “I’ve always loved hockey, football is a close second though.”

Now Melissa is very intrigued.

“Pretty and a sports fan? Jacob where have you been keeping this one?”

The conversation goes on, and it turns out this woman is a breath of fresh air.

“No it’s from the 40s originally, way before all of us.” She laughs, her eyes crinkling.

“What can I say, hon you’ve got good taste.”

She smiles at the redhead with a shrug. “I usually do.”

Hours later, Melissa is dead tired but cant force herself to move from the booth. Getting to know Jacob has been a delightful surprise and now she was surprised that she found herself liking one of his friends.

“I have to get going but it was so nice meeting you, Melissa. Jacob give her my number and I’ll send you the links to that band.” She smiles hugging Jacob before putting her jacket on and walking out. Jade eyes follow her slim frame all the way down the aisle of booths.

Melissa Schemmenti is screwed big time.

After a weekend of constantly thinking of the cute woman and giggling at her phone like a school girl, Melissa sits with Jacob in the teachers lounge staring at her phone screen.

“Just ask her to hang out,” Jacob shrugs with a smile. “She’s a really great person.”

“Kid,” she sighs leaning back in her chair. “Look, you’d make a great wingman but that’s just not in the cards for me okay?”

“How do you know that?” He asks in a way only Jacob can. “You don’t know how it’ll go if you don’t try, and If I were a betting man I’d say Barbara probably told you the same thing.”

He smiles just as Barbara walks in with the others.

For the rest of that morning Melissa thinks about what Jacob said and how he’s right although she’d never say it aloud. Her marriage ended badly and her last relationship ended in an embarrassing failed marriage proposal. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to try again. For the rest of the day her mind drifts off to the woman even during her lesson with the kids.

Up on the second floor after the kids have long gone Jacob holds the phone to his ear walking back and forth across the floor. “Quit being chicken and give it a try.” He huffs into the phone.

“Jacob! What if she says no? Does she even like women?” His friend asks on the other end.

Walking around his classroom Jacob can’t help roll his eyes.

“I know you two have been texting all weekend, if she wasn’t into you she wouldn’t be doing that. Trust me.”

“Fine, but if this backfires you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Later on in the evening Melissa sits on the edge of her bed looking at her phone screen. The phone number shines on the screen, like it’s taunting her. Taking a breath the redhead hits the number almost vibrating as it rings on speaker.

“Hi, gorgeous.” A bubbly voice comes from the other end.

“Hi,” Melissa laughs, “ya know I usually don’t do this but I dunno, I wanted to call ya.”

“I’m happy you did. Textings nice but I like actually talking. Plus it’ll get Jacob off my case.”

“He’s been on you too? I couldn’t get him to leave me alone. I guess that’s what I get for acting like a schoolgirl.” Melissa bites her lip hoping the admission isn’t too weird.

“If it makes you feel any better I was really giddy all weekend.” She chuckles.

Melissa smiles twirling one of her rings. “I guess it wouldn’t be so weird if I asked you out then?”

“I was hoping you would, especially since the first thing you said to me was a dreamy Italian compliment.”

“You heard that huh?” Melissa laughs practically face palming herself. “Your eyes are very pretty.”

“With a compliment like that I’d be very dumb to say no to a date.” She laughs on the other end.

“Finally!” Jacob bursts through the door tossing his hands up.

Melissa and the young woman on the other end both snap at their friend.

“Jacob!”

#abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #Melissa Schemmenti #Melissa Schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x jacob hill #wlw fanfic #Melissa Schemmenti x you #Melissa Schemmenti x imagine

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moog-rt · 2 months

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GO TO HELL [ch. 3]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Chapter Two

➨ Chapter Three

Next: Chapter Four

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

Warning(s): sudden popularity, mistakes were made (by you not me <3)

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER THREE

Well.

You finally made it on TV. Fame and fortune were nearly yours for the taking. People would be lining up outside for your autograph and maybe even just the chance to catch a glimpse of you.

The ‘Human in Hell.’

That was the headline the news broadcasters decided on. It was slapped on top of a clip of you hauling ass through the rancid streets of Hell. You were clearly panic stricken and fearing for your life, but why would the announcers care about that?.

A darn shame it was being aired live across all of Hell. Your dignity was the price you would pay for fame amongst the worst people to walk the Earth.

You were curled into yourself on the couch, unable to peel your eyes away from the screen. Vaggie was pacing behind it, muttering out profanities you didn’t know existed. And Charlie? She was doing her best to calm the both of you down. Bless her heart.

The reason you had to end your little escapade to the Morningstar Manor early was because Vaggie texted saying she had bad news. You thought perhaps her recruiting backfired or there could have been a fire in the hotel that she couldn’t put out.

You did not expect to be called back because the entirety of Hell now had you on their radar. This complicated things quite a bit as one might imagine. It was much easier to hide as a human when only a handful of people knew about you. Now, everyone’s eyes were peeled in hope of finding you.

“Look, she’s all-over social media, too,” Vaggie groaned, showing her phone screen to the two of you. She began to read off some of the posts, “Vox and Katy Killjoy are promising viewers an interview with her…There’s already bidding wars for Christ’s sake!”

“Let’s not worry too much about this…As long as we make sure she’s in her disguise when we’re out, it’ll all be okay,” Charlie said.

“They caught her on video. What if they tracked her to the hotel? They could show up any second looking for her!”

It was touching she cared so much about your well-being in this situation, but the goal was to have you back home as soon as possible. Once you were out of Hell, none of this would be a problem. You doubted demons would pass into the living world just to come after you. At that point, there was an endless number of humans to choose from.

“I don’t know…They probably would have already shown up if they knew she was here,” Charlie reasoned, and Vaggie’s pacing began to slow.

“I was able to get away from all the demons that were after me by the time I found the hotel,” you added. “No one should have been around to see me come in.”

Charlie was finally able to get Vaggie to sit, and a tense silence enveloped the three of you. Charlie was rubbing Vaggie’s arms soothingly, so you took it upon yourself to turn off the tv. There was no point in listening to it anymore. All it did was stress everyone out, and there was nothing you could really do about it. Your current plan of action remained the best.

“So how was your day, Vaggie?” you asked in hopes of breaching a more positive topic.

“Oh, right! Did you find anybody who would be interested in staying with us?” Charlie chimed in with a bright grin.

The poor girl sighed in response.

“There was one person who was interested in what we’re offering,” she began, “but he seemed more enticed by free rent than redemption…”

“That’s okay. Maybe if he spends a little time with us, the idea of redemption will start to grow on him!” Charlie sounded like she was also trying to convince herself.

“I guess…” Vaggie grumbled. “He said he might drop by tomorrow or the day after to check things out. Would that work for you guys?”

“Oh, my gosh. That would be great!” Charlie squealed, jumping up from the floor. “We have to head back to my dad’s in the morning, but any time after that would be perfect.”

“No luck today?”

“Not really,” you sighed. “We were able to look around a little bit but we ended up running into her old man.”

“And he tried interrogating her,” Charlie groaned, running her hands through her hair as the memory resurfaced. “I was so worried he would suspect something, but your emergency text totally saved us.”

“Did the disguise work at least?”

That was an excellent question. While he didn’t seem to question anything about your appearance, he still seemed suspicious. It was entirely possible he could smell your fear. You’d expect no less from a demon; they probably fed off of it. Who knows…

You should be nicer. Charlie and Vaggie certainly hadn’t given you that impression. In fact, you were pretty sure you saw one of them eating toast for breakfast. They likely had perfectly normal digestive systems.

“I think so! We’re just gonna have to make a good cover story in case he finds us again.”

The three of you began to brainstorm, losing track of time as it faded into playful conversation. There was an intermission to order food since their ‘kitchen’ still wasn’t quite ready to be used to such an extent. And eventually, you parted ways to get ready for bed.

Your arms were full after they had given you a towel and a plethora of toiletries to help scrub all the paint off of your body. When you entered your room, you were also greeted by your ‘human’ clothes, clean and neatly folded on top of your bed.

And laying on top of those was your phone.

Holy shit. You had completely forgotten you had it on you before your ass was ripped through that portal. Of course, the adrenaline rush that immediately followed your arrival in Hell didn’t help. And you were so eager to get those nasty, garbage covered clothes off, you hadn’t noticed the weight in your back pocket.

You dumped all the toiletries onto your bed to grab it.

The home screen was piled with notifications ranging from worried texts to company newsletter alerts. You began thumbing in your password to rifle through it all… but then you noticed your hand.

The paint was rubbed away.

On your fingers and wrists. There were splotches where paint was gone, revealing your natural skin underneath.

When did this happen?

Your palms were almost completely barren, likely from everything you had touched throughout the day. On the back of your hands and around your wrists, there were smaller spots where your skin was peeking through.

Like fingerprints.

You felt like you were delt a sucker punch to the gut.

Maybe…Maybe it was from your own hand. You could have been rubbing at your own wrists subconsciously. With all the stress-inducing shit going down, that wouldn’t be unlikely.

But if the paint could come off so easily…

No. You had to believe it was your own doing.

Regardless, you had to find a way to prevent it from happening again.

You opted to wait until the morning to break the bad news to Charlie and Vaggie. The two had just gone off to bed, and honestly, your nerves were getting the better of you. Your stomach was twisting in on itself as your heart pounded relentlessly against your ribs.

You would tell them. You would.

Just not right now.

More than anything, you wanted that dried up paint off of you.

Tossing your phone aside and grabbing your bathing supplies, you scrambled into the bathroom to throw the shower on. The feeling of peeling those clothes off and clambering in to let the hot water rush over your sticky body was ethereal. It was so satisfying to watch the unnatural pigment run off your skin, erasing any evidence that it may have transferred onto that man’s hands.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, hoping it would wash away your worries, as well.

Finding the will to get out of the shower was difficult. But your body was tired, as well as your mind.

Flicking the lights off, you tumbled into bed, content with its softness in that moment as the mattress and pillows consumed you entirely. You were more than ready to knock out and forget about all that had happened over the past couple of days.

You didn’t want to think about the fact you were likely being hunted by god knows how many hell-goers. You didn’t want to think about the impact the time you spent here would leave on your life in the living world. Your job, your relationships (thankfully you didn’t have a pet). More than anything, you didn’t want to think about the possibility you may never get home at all.

With a deep sigh, you rolled onto your side and felt something hard beneath your hip. You groaned as you reached down to remove it, finding the phone that you had carelessly tossed aside. It made your heart swell.

You wanted your friends. You wanted to read their texts, new and old. Hell, you wanted to see any memes or posts they may have sent you. Any semblance of normality was all you needed right now. You would take whatever you could get.

Slowly, you reached over and grabbed it. Its brightness hadn’t yet adjusted, and you squinted as you flash banged yourself.

Opening your messages, you saw Devon at the top. They said that they hoped you could see their message, that you were somehow okay.

That depends on what you consider to be ‘okay’.

Beneath them was that boy, Jack. He sounded upset. He probably thought you were ignoring his texts out of spite. His messages were a mixture of asking what was wrong and saying you were overreacting over whatever it was he had done.

You couldn’t recall him doing anything to upset you recently, so it seemed there were things you had yet to find out about. What a pain.

Your other friends that you were supposed to spend time with today were expressing their concern for your absence.

Are you coming?

Where are you?

Is everything okay?

Please respond.

It made your heart ache. You needed to let them know you were at least alive.

As soon as you started writing a message of your own, the text began to buzz. The overhead light and lamps in your room began to strobe, and pixels of red flashed across your screen as a horrible humming emanated from the phone. It sounded as if the room was filled with a swarm of bees. It was deafening.

Then you noticed those shackles.

Those red, glowing shackles that dragged you here were flickering around your wrists once more. You sat straight up, ready for them to pull you somewhere new, but then the room went dark and the noise was gone.

You could still feel the sheets beneath your knees, and when you turned on the lamp beside your bed, the room looked untouched. At the very least, you knew you hadn’t been thrown through another portal.

There was no sign that anything had happened at all.

♡

Your phone would not turn on again after that whole…event…from the night before. At most, it would crackle at you, but the screen remained black. It was possible it just died from low battery, but you weren’t paying attention to that. You wondered what the odds were that Charlie would have a compatible charger.

You could ask her about it later.

The two of you were back on the grind to find a way to access the living world. Once again, Vaggie had to hang back. They decided it would be best for someone to make the hotel slightly more presentable in case the potential patron decided to stop by that evening. A good call, in your opinion.

Beggars can’t be choosers, but their place didn’t seem particularly livable from the outside. Hence, why you thought it would be a good spot to hunker down to begin with.

You and Charlie had slipped into her dad’s place again, this time undetected. After checking out the room of relics once more and without any interruptions, you found nothing that seemed to be of use (from what you could tell, shit was written in ancient tongue).

Your next stop was library where you decided to split up in order to cover more ground.

Now, you wandered aimlessly through the towering shelves of books, unsure of where to start. Having no clue how it was all organized, you settled on the tactic of picking out books at random and letting your luck guide you.

It wasn’t going so well.

You were able to find only one or two books pertaining to the ‘mortal’ world, but neither had anything to do with accessing it. They more so covered history of civilization and travel guides once you were there.

Pulling out another book that looked to be promising, you sighed as that, too, ended up being a dud. Half an hour had easily passed since you began your search, and you were growing despondent.

You wanted to believe that there was some way to get back. Charlie and Vaggie had said so themselves. But if Charlie’s old home was your best shot, you didn’t like your odds looking anywhere else.

No matter how much you tried to stay optimistic, you couldn’t help but dwell on the possibility of being truly stuck here. Finding a way out was starting to feel like finding a needle in a haystack, especially now that you were rummaging through a library that easily held thousands of books.

You hated the thought of not being able to see your friends again. Your family. Stuck in a world where there was a target on your back for simply existing in it.

Your energy was beginning to dwindle. You were slowing down, and your heart felt so heavy.

And you hated it.

You hated the way your vision was beginning to blur and how your sunglasses were fogging up as your face grew warmer.

Your sleeve wiped away the first tear that threatened to slip past, but you were too slow for the second. It left a wet streak down your cheek before you were able to dab it away. You wanted to be careful of your makeup.

When Charlie was getting you ready earlier, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her about the paint missing from your hands. You wanted to, but every time you thought you found the courage to say it, your throat grew tight, choking you into silence.

The most you could do was suggest a setting spray or powder to make sure it really stayed put. You told her you were just worried about the possibility of it coming off. Even if you couldn’t pull the truth from your own mouth, you wanted to take whatever precautions you could.

Your precautions, it seemed, were still not enough as the paint transferred onto your sleeve. Leave it to tears to ruin a girl’s makeup. You need to find someplace with a reflection to see if you could cover it up somehow.

As if on cue, you heard Charlie walking into your aisle. You felt relieved as she could probably blend the new smudges you’d created before anyone could see them.

“Hey, sorry but do you think you could help me out real quick?” you ask as you turned to her with your hand covering your cheek.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you were greeted not by the sight of your newest friend but her father instead.

His hands were propped up on his staff, and his eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline. He had a smug smile on his face to compliment it. Like he had caught you in the act.

There was nothing suspicious about looking at books in a library, though. Was there?

Adjusting your sunglasses so they were back in place, you put on the most charming smile you could conjure.

‘Hi—Good morning, Mr. Morningstar!”

“Hello, again,” he hummed, tilting his head as he watched you. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you again so soon.”

“Right, uh…Well, we had to leave in such a hurry yesterday. Charlie wasn’t able to find what she came for, so we’re back!” You lifted your shoulders to appear more excited than you were. At least you weren’t lying.

His finger started tapping on his apple.

“It’s quite interesting she didn’t think to give me any heads up. Almost like she’s trying to hide something…” He looked down at the book you were still holding for a moment then back at you.

Your heartrate spiked.

“What is it you’re looking for exactly?” He walked up next to you and made an act of looking through some of the books on the shelves you had just gone through.

“Huh? Oh, I’m not completely sure what Charlie needs, but she said I was welcome to look around in here,” you said, holding the book closer to your chest in hopes of hiding its title. “But I understand it’s your library, so if you’d prefer I not be in here, I’ll leave.”

He paused. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and pressed the apple of his staff to his lips.

“Look,” he began, turning back around to face you, “you said you were relatively new here, correct?”

You nodded, unsure of where this was going.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I can imagine the change was sudden, and it can be pretty hard to accept,” he said as he made a gesture with his hand. “I don’t blame you for seeking out ways to feel like you’re still in touch with your life before.”

You looked away, tight lipped.

It was hard, but you didn’t want to have to accept it. You weren’t dead. Not yet. Which meant returning to your life before was still an option for you.

“I’m very grateful to have met your daughter,” you said, shaking your head and looking back at him.

His eyes were trained on you, and it no longer felt as if he was trying to look through you or figure out your intentions. Rather, he was looking at you.

“It all would’ve been much worse for me if I hadn’t,” you continued. “She’s given me a safe place to stay and has been trying to help me in any way she can, and I feel very lucky for that.”

You looked back at him with a soft smile. Soft but genuine. Meeting Charlie and Vaggie was the only bout of good luck you’d had since being sent to Hell.

A smile grew on his face in return, and for once, you didn’t feel threatened by it.

“That makes me happy to hear,” he said. “She’s always been much too kind for a place like this.”

“I suppose so,” you chuckled. “I think that just means you did a pretty good job raising her.”

“Aha…I hope so…” he glanced away, sharp teeth beginning to peek through his lips. He then reached a hand out towards you. “May I see that book?”

Hesitating for a moment, you passed it to him. He read over the title before looking up at the endless shelves.

“Come with me,” he said, walking down the aisle.

You followed him in silence. As he turned the corner, you passed a large arched window that allowed red light to stream through. It illuminated the few specs of dust in the air, and when he walked through it, it turned his hair and skin a blush pink.

As you passed under the light, it felt as though all your prior nervousness washed away.

Yesterday, you wanted nothing more than to be as far from this man as possible.

Now, you felt at ease as he guided you through his labyrinth of a library.

He began pulling books from the shelves here and there, handing them off to you. When you looked them over, you realized they were all pertaining to the living world. You knew better than to hope he’d give you one that held the key to getting home…but what if?

You chatted with him a bit about Charlie and her hotel as you went on through the aisles. You were a little surprised by how much he didn’t know about her plans.

After a few minutes, your arms were filled with a stack almost up to your chin.

“That should do it!” he announced, turning to you with a wide grin as he brushed the dust from his hands. His eyes lingered on your face.

“Thank you so much! This is really kind of you,” you said politely. “I’ll be sure to give them back when I’m—uh…done with them!”

“No rush at all. I’ll be sure to stop by soon to see what all my dear daughter has been up to,” he said with a smirk.

You said your goodbyes and watched as he walked away. The smile adorning your face was subconscious, and your chest felt full and warm.

The weight of all the books was making your arms tired. You had yet to look at what he pulled out for you, but you could wait until you were back at the hotel to rifle through them. You probably wouldn’t be able to find anything better than what he had given you, so you decided to meet back up with Charlie.

She found some things that looked promising, as well. You figured she would have told you more about them if her eyes hadn’t landed on your cheek. The cheek that was out on display for the whole world to see as both your arms were full of the books her father had pulled out for you.

Next Chapter

♡ ♡ ♡

tag list: @spookysisters @for-hearthand-home @crescent-z @mixplara @juskonutoh @tinywolfiegirl @lafy-taffy @glowinthedarkbones1150

#lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar #demon summoning #occult #charlie magne #charlie morningstar #Charlie Morningstar x Vaggie #Charlie Magne x Vaggie #i don't know their ship name my apologies #someone is famous #not in a good way :/

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chiara-hotel · 26 days

Text

𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕬 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖂𝖍𝖔 𝕬𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖉𝖘 𝕰𝖞𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖙

Characters: Angel Dust & Alastor

Warnings: Normal Hazbin Content

- Angel Dust won’t notice too quickly, but will eventually notice how you avoid his eyes at all costs whenever you talk to him

- Or anyone actually

- He is the most understating about your situation

- Though despite it, he would’t ask you about it unless you came to him first

- Mainly because hes been through a lot & wouldn’t want to be asked about it

- If you guys are closer he might start to question/tease you a bit

- But either way he truly doesn’t mind

- Keep in mind he also wouldn’t talk to you about his problems often so he understands the need to pretend things are fine, or even just not wanting to talk about it

- Angel would also try to help you overcome this fear by getting you to look at him longer

- Rewards you the longer you last

- But in the end he wants the best for you, he wouldn’t force anything your way or want you to worry

- He notices as soon as you look away from him

- As he catches on fast… So do his amusing comments

- Yes, he will tease about how you can’t look him in the eye

- Depending on how close you are or how he sees you he might try to get you to look him in the eyes (though he’s also not the right person since his eyes are creepy sometimes)

- But also wants to just so that you can look him into the eye (he doesn’t care for anyone else)

- Even better if you only look him in the eyes since it’ll make him feel better

- Most times it backfires since his eyes in his demon form are 10x scarier

- Angel Dust & Charlie have gotten in a fight with Alastor about being nicer & calmer towards you and your inability to look into their eyes

——————————————————————————

This was a request so I hope this is good enough!

#hazbin hotel #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #angel dust fluff

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fluorescentbalaclava · 1 month

Text

training season's over

chapter 1: Ground Zero

Summary:

After 5 years of service in KorTac, they consider you capable enough to hold yourself in solo missions. Money and freedom, what else could you ask for? But what feels like a good start, progressively starts to backfire.

TF141/female reader, Konig/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, militar inaccuracies, suggestive language, language, canon typical violence

This is an introductory chapter. Mandatory mention that English isn't my first language so apologies in advance. Hope you enjoy!

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Movies were absolutely right in one thing, one of the big parts in the life of a spy consisted in being shoved into small spaces for a bit too much time, mostly air vents. A little fact they forgot to add, is how fucking boring it could be while you waited for the for the moment to act.

They are late. You thought as you rested your head against the wall of the same air vent you’ve been in for the last forty-six minutes.

1900 – You were dropped in a nearby building by a car without a number plate, property of KorTac.

1920 - You’ve managed to catch a maintenance man smoking a cigarette on his break, successfully making him nap with an always handy syringe of tranquilizer, stealing his card, as well as his overall and cap, using it to sneak inside the building. Once you got inside, you saw the maintenance cart, and you used it to hide your tool bag. The way up wasn’t too complicated, as everyone seemed to respect the uniform, probably assuming something just needed to be fixed, and since you had the maintenance key card, you didn’t have to ask for permission to get through doors.

1945 – You were already on the roof, after what felt like a life climbing stairs to avoid most of the cameras, you discarded the uniform, and got everything needed from your bag before letting it hang from your back. You walked to the edge of the roof, big fall but not a big gap between buildings, you knew you could make the jump, but before that, you pressed the comm.

“Sage to Control, how copy?” You said quietly, while taking a moment while you wait to admire the view of the city. Perfect October day, the night already fell, the cold breeze hit your face, making you lift your face mask, only leaving your eyes uncovered. The streets beneath were full of traffic, full of lights, full of life.

“Control to Sage, send traffic.” Your station chief said through the comm, reminding you that you were here for work, not to admire the view.

“I’m in my first position, everything peachy so far. Remind me to check on the tied-up janitor in the alleyway on my way back”.

“For now, just try to get in there without a fuss. Remember---”

“I know, no execution authority, don’t get caught, recovery mission only. Get the intel without the 141 noticing, got it. I’m not a rookie anymore, remember? Playing on the big leagues now” You said with a hint of amusement, and the man behind the comm could hear the smile on your voice, which made him sigh.

“Listen, Sage, I know the first solo mission sounds exciting, but König was right to be worried when we left. The 141 is a dangerous unit, you must avoid contact by any means necessary…I don’t even know why they’re sending you alone in this, I think it’s a bit irrespon---”

“---sible to send a rookie? Don’t worry, I am not planning on getting caught. And for your information, I am being sent because all the other spies from the force are already in other missions, and I’m the only one left that fits into an air vent…but honestly, it’ll be fine, and if not, please bury me with my Sylvanian Families collection.” You said as you were eyeing the jumping distance, letting out a grunt as you throw your tool bag, which landed in the roof of the other building. “141 is supposed to be here at 2030 according to the intel, right? I should get going to get in position. I will listen but I will have to cut contact from my end, update me on the status”.

“You have a Sylvanian Families collection?” The voice now sounded confused on the other side of the frequency.

“Unimportant now. Update me on the status of the guests every 15 minutes. Over” You said before cutting communication on your side.

You took a few steps back, before running to the edge and jumping, landing on your feet in the next roof, which made you feel a small sense of pride, and it was a shame no one was there to witness your dexterity skills

The briefing for this mission made it very clear that this was a very important one, hour after hour spent studying the blueprint of the building, the map of the air system, and going through multiple contingency plans for every scenario that could happen. Alone, back in your bunk bed, you felt that the blueprint was already burned into your eyelids. Not only that, but four manila folders were often read back-to-back by you, and four names were constantly in your head.

Price.

Ghost.

Soap.

Gaz.

The folders contained multiple transcriptions of some of their communications, information of previous deployments, and some of their personal data. You also got some files on your work laptop containing security videos obtained of them. They were not only clearly bigger than you, but their form didn’t stop them from being able to be sneaky and fast. If they found you around, for sure you were dead.

From the roof, you went down an air vent with the help of a rope, until you reached a horizontal vent, which allowed you to start crawling. It was easy from here, forward, then left, then right, and straight until you reached the vent over two hallways in the shape of a T, and in the hall at the side there was a large window with view to the city, where the 141 was supposed to arrive any minute now. The hall was empty, as the armed guards were outside, protecting the three doors that connected the main building to the halls, and there it was, a heavy metal door that led to the office when the needed intel was. Some files about imports and exports, you weren’t really given much information about them, only their label to be able to identify them and the order to burn the rest of the papers.

Going down the air vent to the office wasn’t an option, as it would trigger the security system, the only way was to get in from the front with the keycard but get it from the guards directly would get the attention of the rest of them, going against the orders of being subtle. You had to wait for the 141, and use them as a distraction, knock the guard, steal the keycard, create further distractions, steal the files and leave a charge of explosives in the office. Easy-peasy.

“Control to Sage. They were dropped by a helo on the top of the building. Get ready to act. Over” The words snapped you out of your boredom, and you already felt your body pumping adrenaline to get you ready to move.

Soon enough, a loud crash of glass broke the silence, followed by three loud stomps on the floor, making the shattered glass on the floor crack underneath their boots. They seemed even bigger in person but given their entrance they were stealthier in the recorded footage.

“Bravo 0-7 to Watcher-1. We are in position, waiting for contact” A husky voice said, and you recognized the man as Ghost, which wasn’t hard considering he was wearing the same skull mask as in the files. The three men had their arms ready, and you heard the sound of the keycard granting access, soon followed by gunshots. The first ones to go down were the guards of the hall that was beneath you, the two dead bodies falling into the ground. But the group didn’t have a rest as guards started shooting from the other doors, and from the fallen guards corpses you could hear how they others were calling for back ups through the comms.

Shit. Be fast.

You opened the vent grid, the sound of shooting covering the sounds of metal, and taking advantage of the situation, you threw a smoke grenade at their feet.

“Fuck!” Another voice said as smoke starting to cloud the vision of a part of the hall. You quickly dropped from the air vent, your feet barely making any sound against the ground, and you crouched, stealing the key card from the dead guard, and quickly making your way to the office, not before throwing another smoke grenade at them to keep them busy.

The key card granted you access, deactivating the security system, and you quickly entered the empty office, hearing some coughing from the outside, and more shooting and screaming that got muffled as soon as you closed the door. You quickly put a chair on the door, in case they would try to get in, it would grant you some more minutes.

You searched through the office, not bothering to be tidy, just dropping the papers on the floor…and then you found the file, a twinkle of excitement appeared in your eyes as you put the folder in your mouth, stepping over the desk and taking from your bag a little box of tools. You took out a screwdriver, and tried to rapidly, but calmly, unscrew the grid of the air vent. Your eyes widened when you heard a loud “Clear!” from down the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps. You managed to make the grid fell, and you swiftly climbed into it. Once up there, you threw the explosives down the office with a detonator, which grant you three minutes to crawl your way out of the air vent. As you passed by, you could see the task force going through the corpses to find a keycard.

“Found one, LT” You heard underneath you, as one of them stood up, holding a key card. Mohawk = Soap, you thought to yourself.

“Wait, you hear that?” Another one says. Pretty boy = Gaz.

You stopped on your tracks, not even breathing. Before you heard a gasp for air coming from a guard, followed by a shot.

“Found it” Ghost answered.

You felt relief flooding your body, but you couldn’t enjoy your small victory properly as the sound of the explosion left your ears ringing. A heavy warmth flooded the air vent, and under you, the sound of glass, grunts and three heavy bodies falling onto the ground. Your ears were still ringing, the heat was slowly becoming unbearable, and the smell of smoke flooded the narrow space as you tried to crawl faster through it.

As you reached the vertical vent, you used your ascender and quickly got to the top. You gasped for air as you felt the cold autumn breeze on your face. As your eyes adjusted to the night, you saw the ropes and some other equipment the 141 left behind them. It wasn’t time to rest yet, as you took the file out of your mouth, saving it to your bag, before throwing it across the gap and into the roof you came from. Soon enough, you followed after, jumping across the gap between both buildings.

Your fall wasn’t as graceful as the first, accidentally missing a step and landing on your knees with a grunt. But you let yourself fall on your back against the concrete. Your face felt like it was burning, the breeze was pleasant against your flushed skin, your clothes and hair reeking of smoke, but once again oxygen was filling your lungs. As you catch your breath, you pressed your comm.

“Sage to Control. How copy?” You asked in a low voice, panting.

“Control to Sage. Are you okay?” The voice quickly answered.

“Yeah, yeah, got the intel. I’m in one piece. Ready for extraction, a shower, and a nap”

“Copy, Sage. Picking you up on the alley, remember to untie the handy man”.

Back in the base the mission was considered so successful that for the next few months your rank went from sergeant to "Task Force 141 shadow" as the first mission and your survival rate apparently meant that you were the first choice for any mission that involved them. They considered the indirect approach worked better than directly engaging in combat against them, which left casualties between the KorTac ranks in the past.

Every mission for intel they had, you were behind them, lurking in the shadows, waiting for them to just start shooting to use the confrontation as a distraction to get to the target first. It was funny to hear them frustrated and annoyed over the comms when they realized that once more, they lost the intel. And then it's fate was obvious once KorTac put it on the market, selling it to the best bidder, or sometimes even using it to complete their own missions.

"You have to be careful, maus. I know you think it's fun, but they're dangerous, like us" You found cute when König used pet names. It was truly amazing how such a unit of a man was capable of being soft at the same time, ever since you started working there under his command until now.

But lately you didn't feel like a mouse, you felt like a hyena or a vulture, just scavenging while the bigger predators weren't looking.

"It's alright, don't worry, bud. I promise you I'm being as careful as I've always been" You said in a reassuring tone, a soft smile on your lips, and you squeezed his arm as he was sitting across you on the common room, a hot tea brewing in front of you.

"That's why I'm worried" König had an unsure look, under his sniper hood, his eyes fixated on your mug, rather than you. And you could tell he was anxious by the way he was shaking his leg. "Just don't leave any tracks, ja?"

What you weren't going to admit to him, is that you were growing slightly fond of the task force you so dutifully followed around. During these months you learned plenty of things about them, just by staying hidden and listening, like Ghost's dad jokes, Gaz unluckiness with helicopters, Soap's preference to play as a goalkeeper while playing football.

You blamed the growing one-sided familiarity by the fact that your new assignments made you spend lots of hours alone, lurking, stalking, in position ready to strike the moment things unfold. Back in base, and since you started to work alone, it was only in rare occasions you were at the same time as your old unit, the opportunities to catch up with them and being social becoming scarce.

And they seemed to be so close, so used to each other, so comfortable to even use their names sometimes. You had to admit you weren't used to that. You didn't even know König actual name let alone his face, and even if other members were more open about their names, their backgrounds were still vague. Not that you were an open book, as you only went by your callsign, your real name a secret between your contractors and you. But back in KorTac the less you knew, the better. It's probably for the best, anyway. Another very possible reason for your newfound fondness was the fact that after every successful mission came a very generous check. In fact, so generous that it was enough, plus your savings, to purchase a flat. Not too fancy, but cozy and big enough for you and your things, and something to call your own as well.

Moving in was tedious, lots of boxes and newspapers wrapped around the fragile stuff, and you were too tired from work to really unpack everything, leaving only the necessary items out. You definitely needed to have dinner and have a nocturnal nap before you keep on unpacking stuff, and the other things weren't as urgent. Besides, it would be a few weeks before your next mission, so you had plenty of time to enjoy settling down in your new home and looking around the neighbourhood. For now, you could really use some food, and at this hour you certainly weren't going to cook. You grabbed your jacket and went down the street.

Thankfully, there was a Chinese place in a five-minute walk. There were lots of people around, going to pubs, as it was a bit of a commercial area. It was nice, some fairy lights, some decorations, people sharing drinks, laughing, you could get used to walking around here. You ordered a serve of chow mein and three spring rolls, got it in a bag and made your way back to your flat.

The building you lived in now was a bit old, so you had a fob for the main entrance and a key for your flat. The door creaked a bit when you opened it, and you closed it behind you, but as you turned around you bumped into something that felt almost like colliding against a brick wall, you turned around and you saw some hands inside a mailbox.

"So sorry, si---" You said looking up and as soon as your eyes focused on the figure you felt how your face went pale, and how all the blood of your body went to your legs, your mind screaming you to flee.

Black eyes stared back at you, and that was the only part you could see, as the rest of the face was covered by a balaclava with a skull print on it. Fuck...

"Staring is rude" That husky voice you were so used to hearing through a comm sounded so clear, and the grip on the takeaway bag tightened.

The fuck is Ghost doing here.

"I-I..." You had to clear your throat, to manage any words out. "Sorry, I'm usually more polite, you just...caught me off guard."

"Haven't seen you here before" He lives here?! No way. This is a trap.

"Moved in this morning" You answered as flatly as you could.

"Ah" He said in an uninterested tone, as he went back to check the mail.

You couldn't help but stare up at him, completely dumbfounded. He was wearing a hoodie covering his head, blank pants, and heavy boots. Why isn't he attacking me? Does he know who I am? What the fuck is this? Jesus, I could throw up.

"Can I help you with something?" He answered in the same tone, not bothering to look back at you a second time.

"You live here?"

"Third floor" He answered plainly.

"Ah" Does he genuinely just lives here? No way, they're setting me up. "Why check the mail at night?"

"Just arrived" He answered as he broke one of the envelopes and checked it's contents. Light bill, and you heard him cursing under his breath.

He is so much taller up close.

"Right…alright, see you around…" You said before quickly going up the stairs, so taken aback that you completely forgot about the elevator.

You arrived to your flat, a bit agitated, and closed the door with the lock behind you. And added a chair under the doorknob, for good measure.

You left the food on the table, and quickly went to grab one of your guns. A SIG Sauer P320, and you checked every room, not that there were many rooms to check. The bedroom, the living-dining room, and the bathroom. Both for people and for cameras or mics, but everything looked normal, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of place. Lock the windows just in case.

After your thorough search, you sat at your dinner table, left the gun next to you, before beginning to unpack your food. You ate as your eyes were fixated on the door, waiting for someone to come in shooting, for a team, for a raid, anything.

0000 – No contact.

0100 – No contact.

0200 – Still no contact.

0300 – Fuck, I’m tired.

Not today, it seems...fuck, this isn't a coincidence, out of all the buildings in this fucking island he lives here? No bloody way. They know.

next: chapter two "charlie foxtrot"

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

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ugotcooneycrossed · 10 months

Text

it hurts to be something, it's worse to be nothing (with you)

georgia stanway x reader

w/c: ~700

you and georgia are idiots in love- and sometimes it backfires

a/n: im back from the dead yall!!

everyone go listen to promise by laufey right now

also pt2 anyone??

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

Georgia- your Georgia, okay- well maybe not yours but still. Georgia, Gee, Stanners- the most important person in your life is leaving.

From Manchester to Munich.

One thousand, four hundred, and eighty-eight kilometres away from you.

You go with her to the airport to say goodbye- hands brushing as you walk side-by-side in silence, and still neither of you make the move to hold hands- not when you’re in public and anyone could see.

You keep glancing at her- trying to read her face, and at the fifth time, she stops you- her hand finds your arm and she squeezes softly. Eyes avoiding yours.

“You should probably head back- I don’t think you can go any further.”

“But-“

“I’ll see you later though! It’ll be okay.”

And Georgia leaves, just like that- turning on her heels and practically running from you.

You don’t know who she’s trying to reassure though- you, or herself.

It’ll be okay.

It takes you a while to realise that you didn’t even get to say goodbye- just a ‘see you later’.

And yeah- so maybe you two weren’t really together, but you might as well have been. Even if ‘being together’ meant tiptoeing around your actual feelings, hiding in empty rooms, staring at each other from opposite ends of the room when the others were around, and meeting each other at 2 am- just to talk and sit impossibly close to each other that you were practically one.

It hurts to be ‘something’ with her- but it feels worse to be nothing.

You decide then and there that you will not allow her to be anything to you anymore.

You promise yourself that you will not be anything to her anymore.

It doesn’t stop you from glancing at your phone though- waiting for a message, a call- anything really.

But you cannot cave.

You will not.

But when you walk past someone with the same perfume, you have to turn and walk the other way. When you hear a loud wheezing laugh- you’re reminded of all the jokes she’d whisper to you late at night.

But you want a real relationship- you can’t stand to just be something to her anymore. But you hate being nothing to her.

Even when weeks pass by, you come to realise something.

No matter how hard you try- no matter how much you want to forget.

You cannot forget about her.

Why can’t you get her out of your head?

Why does every little thing remind you of her?

It doesn’t matter how long you try to forget her- you always end up losing.

You’re out warming up on the pitch- when you look up in the stands, and you swear, for a second you see Gee there. Smiling at you in your shirt.

But you blink- and she’s gone again.

You can’t concentrate for the rest of the game- your sloppy with your passing and you can’t connect anything- your eyes are in the stands instead of on the pitch.

You get subbed off at half-time, teammates scowling at you angrily but you’re too distracted to care, and when the second half starts you stay in the change rooms.

You fiddle with your phone- debating whether or not to call her.

You end up losing.

You hold your breath when the line rings- and you feel your eyes prick with tears when it disconnects.

“Fuck you Gee.”

“Hey- that’s not very nice, you know?”

You whip your head around to see Georgia there- really there this time, standing in front of you, she’s shuffling her feet nervously.

“Gee?”

Your voice is barely audible, but still she responds to you.

“That’s me.”

Georgia’s speaking softly- eyes teary.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

You want to scream at her.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”

Georgia looks down at her feet again, and she sighs.

“I love you.”

“Then why can’t you show it!”

“I- I don’t know- honestly.”

“I can’t sneak around with you any more Gee- I will not, I love you- but it really hurts to be something- whatever we are- were… whatever. Figure out whatever it is you need, and I’ll be here waiting.”

#georgia stanway x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

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desolatespring · 11 months

Note

head empty, just thinking about trying to play a rigged drinking game with yan chrollo so he’ll get drunk and you can escape but it backfires completely

Mont la Salle

Ooh I love this idea! I’ve only written one other yandere work before so bear with me on this one 😭

CW: blood/light gore, mentions of alcohol, implied kidnapping, religious imagery, implied female reader, and Chrollo being Chrollo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sit on the steps leading up to the altar, the torn carpet doing nothing to shield you from the cold and rotting wood beneath.

“I offered you a seat next to me.” Chrollo remarks when he sees you shiver once again. Leering over your shoulder you see him sprawled on the priests celebrant chair behind you. His legs extended outwards before him. He seems almost pleasantly surprised when you stand up and walk towards him, his posture straightening in response.

“I’ll make a deal with you.” Short, sweet, and to the point was the best way you’ve found to communicate with Chrollo. The less you said the less he had to pick apart and dissect. “If you can make yourself useful and pick a lock for me, I will sit with you.”

Chrollo tilts his head in thought, most likely trying to figure out if unlocking anything will offer you a means of escape. When he finds no way of it aiding you he stands up. “Lead the way.”

He follows you to the church’s ambry; two full bottles of garnet tinted sacramental wine sat collecting dust behind the locked door. Chrollo shakes his head with a curt laugh. “You bribe me so you can steal altar wine. Have I corrupted you, dear?”

You cross your arms over your chest and purse your lips. “Are you opening it or not?” Another tactic you’ve found useful when asking for something of Chrollo is to be blunt. He’s less likely to tease you when you’ve been forthcoming, and you suspect, he’s intrigued by your boldness. Not many people are willing to try and push their limits with him.

Chrollo presses his hand lightly against your temple as he plucks a bobby-pin from your hair. He straightens the pin and makes quick work of picking the lock. Once opened he grabs a bottle of wine and brings it back to the altar. His eyes skirt across the label and he seems satisfied with his findings. He fishes a small blade from his pocket, the sharpened piece of silver pops the cork out with ease.

Chrollo places his right hand on the small of your back and ushers you towards his chair. Sitting down with the now opened, aged bottle of wine in hand, Chrollo deftly pulls you onto his lap. Clearly taking full advantage of your agreed upon seating arrangement. You’re unable to hide your grimace when the hand on your back snakes around and finds its home on your waist.

“I hope you like pomegranate and plum, my love.” The wine sounds almost as sickeningly sweet as the pet name. As the bottle reaches Chrollo’s lips you can’t help but piece together some noteworthy information.

There’s enough wine here to get him at least a little buzzed no matter how high his tolerance is, there’s no other troupe members around, and you aren’t currently confined with any restraints. If you’re going to make a break for it this may be your only chance.

You’re so deep in thought it takes you a moment to notice him passing you the bottle. You look up and see the deep cherry red it’s staining his lips. If any other personality were attached to the man before you, you might’ve been tempted to lick it off. The porcelain skin, grey pouty eyes, and shaggy black hair were enough to pull you in when you’d first met.

Now you’re stuck forcing a smile before taking a few small sips. Only drink enough to feel confident in your plan.

As the first bottle slowly empties, the vast majority of it going to Chrollo, you feel his fingertips creep along the fishnets under your shorts, gently tugging and slipping under them when he pleases. He always gets so handsy after a few drinks. You will yourself not to push his hand away, as it’ll only reveal how little you’ve had to drink if you start resisting him now.

When the second bottle is opened you take a few more sips, slightly bigger this time. Being so close to him you realize you underestimated how much you’d need to drink to build any semblance of courage.

When Chrollo’s eyelids droop the slightest amount and the touches on your thigh become less coordinated, now fueled with more hunger than passion, you excuse yourself to the restroom. You’re painfully aware he’ll only allow himself to get so inebriated in front of you, never wanting to lose his self control. This is the closest to an opportunity you’ll ever receive.

You climb from off his lap, and begin heading for the narrow staircase that leads to the bathroom, making sure to give your most convincing stumble along the way. Once the door to the stairwell shuts behind you, you drop the act and move quickly to the bathroom while still keeping your footfalls and breathing as soft as possible.

Now inside you shut the door. Clicking both the dead bolt and knob lock into place. You immediately head for the window which is just above eye level. To your relief the glass has already been shattered presumably due to the weather or past vandals, leaving only the screen intact. Picking up the largest shard of glass you can find, you hastily cut a hole in the screen before grabbing onto the windowsill and hoisting yourself up.

The sharp glass stings as it cuts into your palms but you ignore the pain to the best of your ability, knowing you only have so much time to act. Your arms shake as you pull yourself up and through the window. Cool mossy pavement offers your burning hands enough relief for you to pull the rest of your body through, careful not to cut yourself any further.

Once you’ve crawled out you stand up on the concrete, pausing just long enough to retrieve the glass shard from earlier and give the briefest look around to ensure Chrollo isn’t already outside and waiting for you. Feeling as if the coast is clear you begin running at a full sprint towards the woods, thinking it’ll hide you the best. You occasionally stumble over your own two feet as they refuse to move as fast as you’d like.

As you break through the tree line the first tendrils of hope begin to seep into you. There’s no way he can see you with the branches shrouding your figure.

Your right leg comes forward to jump over a fallen log and your hope vanishes just as quickly as it came. You gasp as your back hits the hard forest floor, leaves doing nothing to cushion your blow. By the time your lungs are ready to take in air again Chrollo’s already hoisting you off the ground and tossing you over his shoulder.

The speed at which everything unfolded leaves your neck stiff and your head reeling. It isn’t until you go to stab at him with the glass you realize you dropped it in your fall. With the last bit of fight you have left in you, you punch and thrash in Chrollo’s grasp, clawing at anything you fingers come in contact with.

Chrollo remains silent as he carries you effortlessly back towards the church despite all your frantic thrashing. By the time he gets you inside the cuts on your palms have reopened and your finger nails are chipped and bleeding from the strength you were using to scratch at him.

Chrollo less than gracefully pulls you off of his shoulder, gripping both your wrists in one of his hands, the other opening the door to the confessional booth before shutting himself in it with you. He places you on the bench, effectively holding you in place before leaning closer to you. “Now why don’t you start by telling me exactly what you had planned? And don’t forget to ask for my forgiveness.”

#chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo imagine #chrollo hcs #chrollo

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shotorozu · 1 year

Text

pretend boyfriend

(i use guardian because idk there was this one time i used “mom” in a though unrelated n old draft and i showed it to someone and they replied with “i don’t have a mom” 😧)

note(s): also this totally wasn’t inspired by something that happened to me some time ago 😭 and this upload is late so IGNORE that it’s no longer february (actually, for 10 days now) and focus on how i’m early for white day— basically a day in japan in which guys give chocolate to their crush or partner instead of girls giving chocolates to guys (which happens on valentines day) white day is on march 14 btw

»»————-　♡　————-««

you realize your sad plan for your single, partner-less white day— an extension of valentines day, backfired on you when your guardian asks you about a boyfriend upon your usual visit from school.

“what?” you question, sounding unbelieving of the question, like it was a collection of meaningless words. “i don’t have a boyfriend—”

“the chocolates say otherwise,” they point out, interested in the heart shaped box of sweets. “can i see a picture? i need to know if they’re good for you!”

what an… interesting way to determine who’s good for you. “there’s no boy— no one, trust me.” you insist, sounding a little more panicked than you would’ve liked— and this only fueled her suspicion.

“there has to be someone, you’re beautiful!” they insist. you would’ve felt complimented if it weren’t for the context of it all, and also the fact that they’re just talking about physicality “really, who gave it to you?”

you’re hesitant to say that you actually bought them yourself, not just to replicate the experience of having a significant other, (now that you’ve realized how hard you’ve been pining over someone incredibly unattainable)

but also because you couldn’t resist the contents of the box.

sure, you were given other pieces of chocolate and sweets from your classmates even some of the girls! (which wasn’t common to see on white day of all days) and a suspiciously expensive looking cupcake box landed on your table too.

(you didn’t eat it, you just couldn’t accept the fact that it wasn’t actually decor, until you went to eat lunch and smelled the thing.)

but those chocolates were obviously obligatory, considering the context of white day. besides, the box you bought was different— it had all your favorite flavors and it was from your favorite sweets brand. you just couldn’t help but tear a small portion of your allowance out of your wallet for this treat alone.

you don’t know what your guardian would say— they’d either insist that you’re lying, or they’d make fun of you, and none of these options sound appealing.

you deflate, not having a good defense. “… a friend.”

they don’t seem convinced. nobody used a friend to refer to their actual friend. you mentally beat yourself over this simple mistake.

this only proves their point, “hmm, okay..”

there’s a beat of silence.

“i’m still expecting a picture.”

your heart rate picks up, and you can feel your veins be filled with anxiety.

and now you’re returning to the dorms, absolutely mortified— and it clearly shows on your face based on how your best friend, todoroki shouto, approaches you at the front door with a concerned look.

“you look.. distressed.” he notes out loud, as he opens the door.

shouto’s quick to help you get your shoes off, letting you lean on him as you undo your shoelaces. he pulls off each shoe afterwards— the action so casual.

“it’s because i am, shouto!” you exclaimed, following him in. “i did something stupid and now i’m paying the consequences of my actions!”

shouto’s two toned brows furrow, there’s a deep look settled on his pretty face— and he draws all his focus on you. “whatever it is, we can fix it.”

“i’m sure but, my ego! my dignity!” you groan, and your hands cover your face as if it’ll burrow you away from the embarrassment and transport you to a place of peace.

“i won’t laugh,” he says, an indirect way of saying that he won’t absolutely clown you for any of your decision making skills.

shouto then holds his pinkie up, waiting for you to take it. it’s a clear show that he’s intent. “promise.”

“sure,” you say as you link pinkies, the warmth of his pinkie making embarrassment creep up your neck instantly. “i trust you.”

you breathe in as preparation. “i bought chocolates for myself and my guardian thinks i have a boyfriend and is asking for a picture, so now i’m screwed because i don’t have a boyfriend in the first place, and i’ve told them that i don’t but they just don’t believe me, so i might have to get a fake boyfriend for a picture!”

all of it just spilled out at once. you aren’t even sure if shouto understood, let alone was able to comprehend all of it due to the lack of reaction.

but when you carefully examine— you realize that a reaction slowly shows on his face, like it just dawned on him the information you’ve dumped.

“fake boyfriend.” he echoes, “for a picture.”

“yes!” you groan, mortified of the other possible solution of the matter being slapped in your face again, “and they need to be tall, handsome, and apparently someone that looks rich— don’t know how a picture can prove that, we don’t even have jobs.”

“anyway, they’ll just criticize me for my choice in people.” you sigh, “i’m lost.”

he folds his arms together, and he unintentionally flexes. your eyes follow the movement for a short second before you realize that you cannot be caught gawking at someone you’ve met when you were both five. “it appears you are quite in a situation.”

“yeah..”

“if only there was someone available to help.”

“yeah—”

“someone close to you.”

“i figured— it’d be awkward to ask someone who i’m not really close with to be my fake…” you trail off, brows furrowing when you realize there might be some insinuation in his words. you can’t tell what he is necessarily eluding to— but,

you take a good look at shouto— an very good look. you size him up, and he allows this as he is basically standing politely. there’s a fixed look of stillness in every aspect of his expression, and he’s calm when he speaks,

“i could play the role.” he suggests like he doesn’t understand the weight of his words, or he doesn’t care that much about it.

you can feel your heart in your throat all of a sudden, and the beat of it is becoming painfully loud.

“shouto,” you somehow manage to get out, “they know who you are.”

your deep rooted history together as close friends would be seen as a plus point, if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve refrained from showing (let alone hinting) any sign of your feelings for him. shouto did the same, except you are absolutely sure he doesn’t want anything more than platonic with you— as he has displayed no such signs.

the sudden shift of events would raise more questions instead of just solving one.

besides, who doesn’t know him nowadays? he’s tall, good looking, strapped with money and a multipurpose and hella useful quirk. heck— his appearance during the sports festival was a huge thing and has definitely made a positive mark on his reputation.

additionally, it was hard for your guardian to miss someone with an alluring presence like shouto’s, and a head full of naturally snow-like, and flaming red hair.

you think carefully before coming up with something easy. “what if i just asked one of the girls to wear an oversized hoodie; and stand on a stool? i’d crop out their face, of course. kyouka or yaomomo could—”

before you were allowed to finish your thought, shouto continued to press on his idea. “i’d be the most preferable, since the backstory makes the most sense.”

you pause. you’ve never thought of an actual backstory for you too, and you couldn’t quite indulge in the self blame— you didn’t think he’d agree at all.

“childhood friends turned best friends, and with a bond that drew us together.” his gaze fleets somewhere below your eyes, and then he draws them back up— a small boyish grin now blessing his face. “besides, you’d be in quite some trouble if they asked for a picture of their face.”

oh, that description sounded way too close to home, so much that you forgot. now that shouto mentioned one, that solution does seem to have its loop holes.

“touché.” the lengths he’d do for you is admirable, and your heart would’ve stuttered if it weren’t for the dull reminder from the back of your mind, of what it’s really like between the two of you.

“so uhm, what now? do you want to take the picture right later or—”

“now would be good.”

“oh uh, okay then…” shouto never wastes time, even when it came to unimportant stuff it seems, and he watches as you shift around to find your phone.

getting your phone is something that never takes any time, but with everything being taken account for, your hands are starting to feel like jelly.

after opening your camera app and switching to selfie mode, you position your phone carefully. not just like a photographer that was about to capture a rare wild animal laying still, but also similarly to how people take pictures with celebrities.

you are cautious of the angle. although you’ve almost seen every single expression that he could make— you’re worried how you could make everything look good, make him look phenomenal. (although it seems impossible to make him look anything but)

you end up snapping a photo that’s majorly of him, and the only show of you being in the same frame was the very top of your head shoved to the corner of the screen.

the two of you stare at the photo, exchanging glances. you might think that this is enough, considering that this photo of shouto is nowhere on the internet. so— plus one for authenticity, sorta.

he’s not your real boyfriend, but your guardian won’t know that from looking at the picture.

“let’s do a retake.”

you nearly stumble, like his words were a gust of strong wind. “huh?”

“this photo.. doesn’t seem authentic. i wouldn’t know what it’d be like to be in a relationship but the couples on television look— different. don’t you think?”

you take another look at the photo. although the couples shouto is referring to are actresses and actors playing roles— he’s right for the most part. the distance between the two of you is hard to miss, nobody would be able to guess that you two were together.

not to mention, it’s more of a picture of him instead of the both of you.

“alright then,” you say in agreement. “any suggestions?”

“if i may.”

“of course you may,” you encourage.

“then…” he shifts, feet moving closer to you. “if you’ll allow me.”

shouto’s hands reach out, and you’re immediately drawn to them. although unsure about his next course of action, you don’t stop him as he pulls you close— hands with contrasting temperatures maneuvering the positions to his liking.

eventually, the two of you were positioned in a way that made you encase shouto in your arms and have you turnt slightly towards the camera.

the side of your faces are pressed against each other’s, and despite trying your best to stop it, the proximity had your heart thumping against your ribcage once again.

making sure you don’t prolong the ordeal more than you need to— you snap the picture and attempt to pick yourself up afterwards.

but shouto makes no effort in detaching himself from you, relaxing in your arms as he leans against you to view the picture. you feel yourself flustering again, and you just know that he could end you one day and be blissfully unaware of how and why.

although you just took a big risk that could possibly have your feelings found out— you were just as curious as he was to see the outcome.

and you two seemed like a couple indeed.

“thoughts?” you ask in place of allowing yourself to slowly pass away on the inside. your skin feeling increasingly hot all of a sudden, and you’re confident the boy beside you has nothing to do with it this time.

“just as i suspected.” a small smile pulls at his lips, “we look good together.”

your brain buffers, “huh?—”

and then, he’s pressing his soft lips onto your cheek— pulling back as quickly as he pressed his lips onto you.

you choke on practically nothing, and you stare at him with eyes so wide they rival saucers.

and then it started to make sense, “what— are you playing me?— you’re doing all of this for a picture i didn’t even take!”

he tilts his head, confused for a moment before letting out a disapproving noise. “i… was teasing at some point, but i would never play you. i even pinkie swore.” he said, holding the same pinkie he linked with yours earlier to prove his memory.

“so why… after all this time?”

his gaze sharpens, “why not?” he states simply, “i figured just recently that.. the feelings are mutual, and that you’re interested in the way i’m interested in you.”

he clutches you, shoving himself deeper in your embrace, “besides, there was no way i’d let you ask anyone else to be your pretend boyfriend when i’m right here.”

“it would be just for a picture though.” you note, slightly amused that todoroki shouto was jealous at the idea of having a pretend boyfriend for a picture— even if said pretend boyfriend were to be one of the girls from your class.

a specific blank expression is pinned onto his face. “still.” he replies, quite dryly.

though the expression immediately melts away as he says these next words, “now then,” gorgeous, gorgeous heterochromatic eyes meeting yours in a gaze. shouto holds it, and it seems that he’s taking advantage of his effect on you. he’s quick, not to mention— observant too.

“we should take another picture, one that’s much real.”

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