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reading-hub · 3 days ago

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shy || nick twdg

pairing: nick x gn!reader

summary: due to the mutual, yet unspoken, feelings between you and Nick, you're both shy around each other.

w/c: 3.5k

(a/n: only got two more exams on monday and then im finally free! be expecting more fics soon 💘)

requested ✅

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The world around you blurred, threatening to fade to black. Pain that once stole your breath was now minimised to a dull throb in your side. This was it, you thought. This was how you died — here, alone in a forest, no one around for what was possibly miles. Having survived 2 years in an apocalypse, you’d always imagined you’d die in a much more honourable way, like saving a loved one. But there wasn’t anyone left to save.

You felt the dark void of nothingness pulling you under. That was when you heard it. There were two voices, one sounding like it belonged to a young southern man, and the other an older, more midwestern man. “Pete, look!” you heard the younger man say as his footsteps seemed to approach you. “They’re bleeding really bad…” and then unconsciousness stole your vision, hearing, and the remainder of your senses.

That’s all you remember from the day that Luke and Pete found you in that forest, bleeding out to your almost certain death. Yet, you didn’t die. They’d brought you back to the cabin, where Carlos managed to stitch and bandage you up, making sure your side wouldn’t ooze that horrible red liquid again. The group says you were out for a couple of days, which you wouldn’t know. To you, it’d felt like mere minutes.

Upon waking up from your slumber, you remember opening your eyes to find a man in the room with you. His black hair poked out messily from under his cap, light green eyes focused on you as you attempted to sit up. “Whoa, hey, easy,” the man said, quickly moving to your side as you winced and fell back against the pillow. His voice was soft, a little unsure, like he wasn’t used to caring for people. “Carlos said not to let you move around too much. Something about ‘stitches tearing’ and ‘bleeding out again.’ You know… cheerful stuff.”

You blinked at him, mind still foggy from painkillers and blood loss. “Wh… who…?”

“Oh. Right. Nick.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m Nick.”

You let the name roll around in your mind, still swimming in confusion and the lingering fog of unconsciousness. Nick. It didn’t mean much to you then, but his voice did. Something about it grounded you, pulled you out of the dark and reminded you that you were, for now, still alive.

(Time Skip – a few weeks later)

Initially, you weren’t meant to stay with the group, only until you’d healed, but you managed to grow on them and they on you. So, you stayed, or at least for as long as this world would let you. Nick had been a little wary of you at first and you honestly couldn’t blame him. You could understand why. A complete stranger showing up in your home in the middle of an apocalypse wasn’t exactly cause for celebration. But over time, Nick’s tough edges seemed to soften.

You walked into the living room, finding Nick sharpening his knife. His head turned towards you, eyes trained on your face as you gave him a soft, shy smile, which he half-returned. You sat down on the sofa, opening your sketchbook to a fresh, clean page. Your pencil made contact with the paper but you simply couldn’t seem to focus on the drawing. Something, or rather someone, was shifting your attention.

You couldn’t help it. Nick just looked so good, focused, brow furrowed in concentration, the dull light from the nearby window catching the side of his face and the edge of his cap. You weren’t sure when that had started: the way your heart picked up when he was around, or how your stomach fluttered at the smallest things he said. You doubted he noticed.

He glanced up then, as if sensing your gaze. Your eyes met for a second too long before you both looked away at almost the exact same time. How smooth.

Before you could fill the silence with small talk, you felt an elbow nudge you, Luke’s teasing voice reaching your ears. “Careful. Nick might just faint if you smile at him again,” he commented, making sure Nick heard every word.

You shot Luke a glare, lighthearted but warning nonetheless. Nick just groaned, then muttered something about “minding your own damn business.” His face turned a faint pink hue before he stomped off to check the perimeter. You watched him walk away, trying to hide the smile on your face that you knew Luke would just tease you even more for.

That afternoon, the cabin was quieter than usual. Luke was off doing a supply run with Pete, and the rest of the group were spread thin between patrol shifts and chores. You had just finished sweeping the back porch, enjoying the sunlight beaming down, when you heard it. ‘It’ being a low, guttural growl in the distance. Then another.

You froze. “Nick?” you called softly, gripping the broom a little tighter.

No answer.

Then, a rustle in the bushes. The crack of a branch. The groan of something very, very not-human. Your instincts kicked in faster than fear. You dropped the broom, sprinted inside, and grabbed a gun on a nearby table.

By the time you made it back outside, the walker had emerged from the tree line, arms reaching out like it already had a hold of you in its rotting imagination. You didn’t hesitate. You breathed in, focused, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Nothing happened. You pulled the trigger again and the same thing happened once again. The gun was jammed.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, already feeling your breathing start to quicken. Your eyes darted between the gun you held in your shaking hands and the walker approaching, its feet dragging across the ground.

You couldn’t afford to freeze now, so you fumbled with the gun, removing the magazine and racking the slide a few times. The jammed round quickly fell out, clattering across the floor before falling off the porch. You reinserted the magazine and racked the slide, pointing the gun right at the walker. It dropped instantly, skull cleanly pierced. The sharp, sudden sound echoed through the air.

“Holy shit!” someone called from your left.

You spun and saw Nick bounding around the side of the cabin, gun in hand, panic in his eyes. He slowed when he saw the walker, dead, and then you, still standing there, slightly breathless but unharmed.

“You okay?” he asked quickly, voice tight.

“I’m fine,” you nodded, lowering your rifle. “Just one of them. Got lucky with the shot.”

Nick walked closer, eyes scanning the treeline. “That wasn’t luck,” he muttered, glancing at the walker’s body, then at your hands still wrapped around the rifle. “That was a perfect shot.”

You felt warmth bloom in your chest. He sounded almost… impressed?

You laughed, nervous and small. “Guess I had a good teacher.”

He blinked at you. “I… I never taught you to shoot.”

“Oh. Right,” you said, adjusting your grip on the gun. “Then… uh… guess I just pay attention when you talk about it.”

The corner of Nick’s mouth twitched up. “Huh.”

You both stood there for a moment too long, again, silent and buzzing with adrenaline. Nick shifted on his feet, opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it again. His cheeks were still pink from the run, or maybe it was something else.

Night came, and the cabin was almost completely quiet. You tossed and turned in bed, wrapped in the threadbare blanket, but all your attempts at sleep were to no avail. With a slight groan of frustration, you sat up and silently left the room, careful not to wake anyone else. Hopefully, the night air would be enough to help you finally fall asleep.

You stepped onto the porch, the door not fully shutting behind you in order to not make too much noise. When you noticed Nick sitting on the stairs, you couldn't help but jump just a little. You hadn’t expected anyone else out here at this time. Not wanting to intrude, you turned back around, about to leave; however, it was too late. Nick had already noticed you. “Can’t sleep?” he asked softly, voice low so he didn't wake the others.

You shook your head and took the opportunity to sit beside him on the steps. This time, the silence wasn’t so awkward. It was actually rather… nice.

Nick turned to you, looking sideways, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You scared of the dark or just the walkers?” His eyes searched yours, though you weren’t sure what for.

Those same eyes drew you in — he had eyes like the fields after a sweet summer rain, eyes that somehow managed to be calming yet mysterious at the same time. God, you really could never get tired of looking into his eyes. Then, you heard him clear his throat as you realised you’d never actually answered his question.

You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks, and gave a small, sheepish shrug. “Little bit of both, maybe,” you admitted, your voice barely louder than the breeze. “Everything just feels louder at night. Thoughts, too.”

Nick nodded slowly, rubbing his hands together like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Yeah. I get that.”

The two of you sat like that for a minute, the silence now filled with the soft chirp of crickets and the distant rustling of leaves. The moonlight bathed the porch in a silvery glow, and when you glanced at Nick, you caught him sneaking a look at you, too.

You both looked away. Again. It was honestly pathetic. Cute, but pathetic regardless.

Tentatively, you scooted closer to Nick, knee almost brushing his. Nick didn’t pull away like you’d expected he might. Before you could suppress it, a shiver ran through you, which didn’t go unnoticed by Nick. You seriously hated this cold. It had been so warm this afternoon, so why was it literally freezing now?

The chill settled somewhere in your chest as you tugged your arms around yourself, the action doing little to give you any sort of warmth. Without even really thinking, Nick peeled off the hoodie, his shirt lifting up a little. Just enough to show a sliver of his happy trail, which you definitely did not stare at, not for more than a second, anyway. He held the hoodie out toward you, gaze still focused just off to the side, like handing you a hoodie was the most complicated emotional action a person could possibly undertake.

“Here,” he mumbled, not quite meeting your eyes. “You’ll, uh… get sick or something.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Are you sure? You’ll be cold.”

He shrugged. “I’m fine.”

You hesitated, then reached out and took it from him, fingers brushing his in the exchange. A little spark danced up your spine at the contact, which you really hoped he didn’t notice. Judging by how he suddenly looked the other way and rubbed the back of his neck, maybe he did.

“Thanks,” you said softly, slipping the hoodie on. It was warm, still holding a bit of his body heat, and smelled faintly like him: woodsmoke and something earthy. The sleeves were a little long on you. You hugged them to your chest.

Nick stole a glance at you, clearly trying to play it cool and failing adorably. “Looks better on you anyway.”

Your heart stumbled over itself, breath catching a little, his words echoing louder than they probably should have. You ducked your head, a small, nervous smile tugging at your lips. “You’re just saying that.”

Nick shook his head, and for once, didn’t immediately look away. “No, I mean it.” His voice was quieter now, more certain. “It… it really does.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your mouth opened like it might try, but all that came out was a soft, awkward laugh, one that somehow made Nick smile even more. The kind of smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, just slightly. You’d seen that smile only a few times before, and each time it stuck in your memory like a photograph.

The hoodie wrapped around you was oversized, warm, and slightly worn at the sleeves, kind of like Nick himself. You shifted a little closer, daring just a few inches more, until your shoulders brushed. He noticed, and you felt him freeze, then relax a second later, like maybe he wasn’t sure what was happening or if he was allowed to enjoy it. But he didn’t move away.

The wind blew softly through the trees, the night sky stretching endlessly above you both. And for a minute, it felt like you weren’t in the middle of an apocalypse. You were just two people sitting on a porch under the stars, trying to pretend like it was all normal.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep, though you still drifted off slowly, the scent of pine and smoke in Nick’s hoodie grounding you. Your head tipped, coming to rest gently against his shoulder. Nick stiffened at first, not because he didn’t want it, but rather because he didn’t know what to do with something so tender. Your breath was slow, steady, tickling the fabric of his shirt with each exhale. You were asleep on him.

He swallowed, heart beating much louder than it should’ve been. He should’ve woken you, maybe nudged you gently or whispered your name. Instead, he just stayed, sat there with you, unmoving, afraid that even a breath too loud would break this fragile little moment the universe had handed him.

Eventually, after what felt like ages, he let his arm move. Slow and unsure, like he was afraid the porch itself might judge him. He draped it behind you, fingers brushing your back. He didn't pull you in, not fully — he didn’t dare — but the closeness felt electric anyway, like some part of him had finally allowed itself to hope.

The next morning, you woke slowly, blinking against the pale light peeking through your window. Wait, your window? When did you get to your room? The last thing you remembered was sitting with Nick on the porch, so how on what was left of God’s green earth did you end up back here?

You sat up slowly, heart still fogged with sleep and the remnants of that memory. Nick's hoodie was still draped around your shoulders. You pressed your face into the collar for a second, inhaling what was left of the night before, then glanced down. Your boots were off. Blanket tucked neatly around you. And the hoodie? Still here.

Nick.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and paused. Your chest buzzed, not quite anxiety, not quite giddiness. Something in between. Something soft and heavy and a little breathless. Had he really taken you all the way back to your room? At the mere thought of the gesture, warmth seemed to spread somewhere deep in your stomach.

After pulling the hoodie tighter around yourself, you quietly made your way downstairs. Nick was at the kitchen table, hunched over a tin of peaches, frowning. His cap was off (very rare), his hair a little mussed, and his fingers tapped anxiously against the table’s edge. He didn’t look up at first, not until you cleared your throat.

When he finally did, his eyes flicked to yours, then to the hoodie still wrapped around you, then very quickly back to the peaches. “Hey,” he mumbled.

“Hey,” you echoed, suddenly unsure where to put your hands. You settled for fiddling with the hem of the sleeve, a nervous habit you thought you’d outgrown. “Did… did you carry me back to my room last night?”

Nick scratched the back of his neck once again. “Yeah. You were out cold. Figured it was better than letting you wake up with a sore neck on the porch.”

“Oh.” You paused. “Thanks.”

“Wasn’t a big deal,” he replied quickly, too quickly, maybe like it had been a big deal to him and he just didn’t know how to say it.

About to comment on his somewhat-more-odd-than-usual behaviour, you heard Pete’s voice ring out from the living room. You turned as Nick’s uncle called your name, sighing quietly to yourself. You hadn’t wanted to end this moment with Nick so early, but it appears you’ve been left with no choice.

Nick noticed the way you almost freeze, torn between going to see what Pete wants and staying here with Nick. He felt his heart skip a beat. He wanted you to stay, he wanted to spend more time with you, he wanted to hear your melodic voice, but he knew better. “Guess you better go see what he wants,” Nick said, his voice quieter now, not quite meeting your eyes again.

You nodded, hesitating just a moment longer, your fingers still playing with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Yeah… I’ll be right back.”

You gave him a small smile and then you turned, footsteps soft on the wooden floorboards as you left the kitchen. Nick watched you go, expression unreadable at first. But the moment you were out of sight, a smile slowly tugged at the corner of his mouth, subtle, fleeting, yet genuine.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, exhaled, and stared down at the tin of peaches like it held the answer to everything he was feeling. It didn’t, of course. Right then, in that moment, nothing really made sense. Not the apocalypse, not the fact that he cared this much, and definitely not how you’d managed to quietly wedge yourself into a part of his world he thought had long since shut down.

In the kitchen, Pete held up a jacket in his hands. “Me and Luke found it when we were out yesterday. Looks about your size. You want it?” He asked, eyes flicking from you to the jacket.

You looked at it — it was a deep-red leather jacket, slightly worn away by time, with a silver zipper and spread collar. Your lips pressed together in thought, brows subtly furrowing. It was a nice jacket, but surely someone else needed it more than you did? Maybe Rebecca, or even Sarah.

You let your hand run along the jacket’s sleeve, your fingers brushing against the cool leather as you considered it.

Pete raised an eyebrow at your hesitation. “Go on, kid. We picked it up thinking of you anyway. Luke said you’d look badass in it.”

You gave a soft snort at that, glancing toward the door behind you, toward the kitchen where Nick still sat. Then, back at Pete, who was watching you like he knew exactly what you were thinking. You pulled the jacket closer and gave a small nod.

“Okay,” you said, your voice a little quieter than intended. “Thanks, Pete.”

He smiled, a proud sort of smile only someone like Pete could manage, gruff but warm. “Anytime.”

You slipped out of Nick’s hoodie and put the jacket on. It was heavier than Nick’s hoodie, but it fit like it was meant for you. The leather creaked slightly with your movements, the sleeves a little long but not in a bad way. You tugged the zipper halfway up and gave Pete a grateful look.

When you returned to the kitchen, Nick glanced up again. His gaze landed on the jacket, and something flickered behind his eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, and you raised a brow, both amused and curious.

“What?” you asked, arms slightly out to your sides, showing it off. “Too much?”

“No!” Nick responded a little too quickly, a little too loudly, and he visibly winced as he caught himself. “Uh- I mean, no. That colour looks good on you. Not that you didn’t look good before. I mean- not like that, I just… yeah.” He opted for shutting up, groaning into his hands, which had come up to cover his face.

Your nose crinkled as you let out a small chuckle, finding Nick’s attempt at a compliment rather endearing. Normally, Nick would’ve done anything to hear that gentle, soothing sound, but maybe not at the expense of his own dignity.

“Well, thanks, Nick.” Your chuckle faded into a warm smile, cheeks suddenly turning a faint pink hue.

Nick just gave a curt nod, peeling his hands from his face, still averting his gaze anywhere but you. The kitchen table suddenly began to look remarkably interesting to Nick, who felt the urge to say something else, but came up short. He wanted to tell you how he felt, how he had let himself fall in love with you, yet he couldn’t.

“I-” he started, then faltered. The words were right there, but they clung to the back of his throat.

Maybe he never would confess. Maybe this dance between the two of you would continue for the rest of time.

#twd/reader

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reading-hub · 3 days ago

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cabin || kenny twdg

pairing: kenny x gn!reader

summary: when you find a cabin with only one bed, things between you and Kenny suddenly get real.

w/c: 2.5k

requested ✅

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Wind cut through the trees like broken glass, whistling a mournful tune and biting at your skin. Every step you took felt heavier than the last, yet you continued to trudge forward. Each breath came out in clouds as your body fought against the cold in an almost futile attempt. It was quiet in the snow-coated forest, save for the crunch of boots on frozen ground and the occasional snap of a branch.

Kenny walked beside you, his jaw clenched and hat pulled low. His eyes scanned the woods; the silence was louder than any gunshot. You saw as one of his hands clenched into a fist, then relaxed. You knew it wasn’t just the cold that had him on edge. It was the separation. The others were somewhere around you, scattered after you all were forced to run.

You shivered against the wind, wrapping your arms around yourself, but it did little to actually help. The wind found every seam in your clothes, every inch of exposed skin, and used it maliciously against you.

Without a word, Kenny shrugged off his coat and held it out to you. You blinked, staring at the heavy, worn fabric as if it were something sacred. “Kenny, you’ll freeze.” You shook your head. The offer was so tempting — the warmth, the lingering scent of Kenny — but you couldn’t just let him suffer for your sake.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied, voice gruff in typical Kenny fashion. His eyes trailed to you, noticing the lack of response. “You’re shakin’ like a leaf. Just take it.” Stubborn as always, he continued to hold the coat out, ready to shove it into your arms if you didn’t take it yourself.

Still, you couldn’t help but hesitate. Sure, he claimed he’d be alright, but you didn’t truly believe that. However, when your eyes met his, softened by something unspoken, you gave in. Sighing in defeat, you slipped into the coat. It was warm, too big on you, and smelled of smoke, pine, and something that made your chest ache in a way you didn’t want to name.

“Thanks, Kenny,” You flashed him a small, grateful smile.

He didn’t really answer, just gave a small grunt and kept walking. Despite how he might’ve presented himself, you saw the tension in his shoulders ease a little, the lines in his face softening ever so slightly. That was Kenny for you: gruff exterior, stubborn as hell, but under it all, a heart that refused to stop caring, even if it killed him.

After what felt like hours, but likely had only been one, you found a cabin. It was small and appeared to have been abandoned for a while, but it was enough. You only needed somewhere to spend the night anyway.

Kenny led the way, pushing the door open and instantly checking for any threats. When he found none, he gestured for you to come inside. The inside smelled of damp wood and dust, but you couldn’t complain. After all, it was shelter. You shut the door behind you as Kenny dropped to his knees by the cold hearth and began working on a fire.

Silence hung between you like frost in the air. Neither of you dared to speak, both far too lost in your own thoughts to even think about breaking it. The only sound was the rustle of Kenny pulling apart the bits of kindling, the scratch of flint against steel, and the faint sigh of wind pushing against the walls. You lowered yourself onto a creaky old armchair, pulling Kenny’s coat tighter around your body. It dwarfed you, heavy and comforting, like a barrier between you and the world.

Then, as the kindling caught and a flicker of warmth began to spread, Kenny spoke quietly, like he wasn’t sure if you were still listening. “When I turned around and didn’t see you,” he said, voice rough, “I thought… I’ve lost too damn much. I couldn’t take losing you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Your mouth opened, but no sound came. You had no idea what to say.

He stared into the flames, jaw working, like he was chewing on something bitter. After a beat, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

But he just shook his head with a sigh. “Actually… never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

You wanted to ask him to continue, yet you knew better than to push him. Kenny was a man who carried grief like a second skin. If he didn’t want to talk, you wouldn’t force it. Still, his words lingered, refusing to be forgotten.

You shifted in the chair, watching the fire crackle and spit embers into the hearth. The warmth finally started to sink into your bones, chasing out the cold with aching slowness. Nevertheless, a chill lingered — not from the weather, but from what Kenny had said. “I couldn’t take losing you too.”

The weight of those words pressed down on you, heavier than the coat around your shoulders. You’d seen Kenny fight like hell for people he cared about. You’d seen what happened when he lost them, too. Duck. Katjaa. Sarita. The list stretched longer than it should for one man’s lifetime.

You looked at him, lit in the flickering orange glow of the fire. He looked older somehow. Not just from the grizzled beard or the lines on his face, but in the way he sat, shoulders slumped forward like the world was sitting square on his back.

Floorboards creaking under your weight, you stood up. Kenny’s eyes flicked up to you before he looked back to the fire. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low and tired.

“Just checking the place out,” you replied, though that wasn’t entirely true. You needed a moment to breathe, to collect your thoughts. What Kenny had said rattled something in you. Maybe because it wasn’t really a surprise. Maybe because it was.

The cabin wasn’t big: a main room with the hearth and battered old chair, a tiny kitchen off to one side, and two doors on the other. You pushed the left one open and peered inside. It just so happened to be the bedroom. With a singular bed in the corner of the room.

You stared at it for a long moment. The mattress looked old and sagging in the middle, a nest of blankets piled on top. But it was clean enough, relatively speaking, and more importantly, it was off the cold wooden floor.

You turned, clearing your throat and calling Kenny’s name. He appeared beside you moments later. “There’s only one bed,” you said quietly, watching his expression.

He looked at it, then back at you, with the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Well, darlin', I’m not sleeping on the floor,” he drawled, voice roughened from the cold and something else. “So I guess we’ll have to share.”

Your stomach fluttered, a faint blush coating your cheeks. Not trusting yourself to say anything, you simply nodded. It wasn’t like you hadn’t shared tight spaces before. In abandoned stores, broken-down vehicles, but something about this felt different.

Kenny didn’t say much else, just stepped past you into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed with a soft grunt. The bedsprings creaked beneath him as he tested its weight, palms pressed to the mattress like he wasn’t sure it would hold. You lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him.

He looked up at you then, catching your eyes for just a second too long before glancing away again. “Ain’t exactly the Ritz,” he muttered, “but it’ll do.”

You gave a soft laugh, trying to ease the tension that had started to thicken between you. “Definitely better than freezing our asses off outside.”

He huffed a quiet laugh in agreement, rubbing his hands together as if trying to get the circulation going. You stepped further into the room, hesitating by the side of the bed, not quite sure of the unspoken rules anymore.

Kenny pulled his boots off with a grunt and set them aside, then reached back to tug his hat off. His hair was a little longer now, curling slightly at the ends. It made him look softer, somehow. He caught you looking, and for a second, neither of you moved.

“You gonna stand there all night?” he asked, voice quieter this time. Less teasing, more unsure.

You shook yourself out of it, toeing off your own boots and slowly settling on the other side of the bed. The mattress dipped as you lowered yourself onto it, the springs protesting. The warmth from the fire barely reached this far, and even with Kenny’s coat still wrapped around you, the cold was once again beginning to settle deep inside.

Kenny lay back, arms resting under his head, staring up at the ceiling like it held answers. You mirrored him for a while, the silence between you different now.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said suddenly. “’Bout not wantin’ to lose you.”

Your heart thudded, just once, hard. You turned your head slightly, watching the way his jaw clenched and relaxed as he spoke.

“You’ve been there,” he continued, “through all kinds of shit. When others gave up or ran, you stuck around. That… that means somethin’.”

You swallowed thickly. “I stuck around because I wanted to.”

Kenny turned his head to face you, eyes locking with yours in the dim glow filtering in from the other room. “Yeah,” he said, a little hoarse. “That’s what scares me.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He exhaled slowly, shifting to his side to face you fully. “'Cause when people start meanin’ somethin’ to me… they get taken away.” His voice cracked slightly, just enough to make your chest ache. “And I don’t know if I could take that again. Don’t think there’s much left of me to lose.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling you under. “Not unless you tell me to.”

You didn’t even realise you'd drifted off until a shift in the mattress woke you. At first, you thought it was just the wind rattling the shutters again, but then you felt it. Kenny’s arm sliding around your waist in the quiet, just there, like it was instinct. His body was warm against your back, the weight of him a strange comfort after everything.

You shifted, unsure if you meant to pull away or just turn toward him. But his arm didn’t move. And then came his voice, rough and thick with sleep, barely more than a breath against your neck. “Where you goin’, darlin’?”

You froze. Something about the way he said it made your chest twist in ways you didn’t have the words for. “I was just gonna check the fire,” you whispered, hoping he couldn’t hear the way your heart raced at the proximity of your bodies.

His arms stayed right where they were, firmer than before. “It’s fine,” he murmured. “Just stay.”

The quiet desperation in his voice, the way he said stay like he didn’t think he deserved to ask, was enough to make you stay. “Alright,” you said, barely audible, letting yourself settle again.

You let the warmth of him chase away the last of the cold. His hand was resting lightly on your stomach now, fingers twitching like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. You reached down and brushed your fingers over his knuckles. Just a small touch. It felt dangerous, comfort in a world where comfort gets people killed, but it felt so right.

Kenny didn’t say anything else, though you heard the way his breath caught, just once, before it evened out.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, still, breathing in sync, your hand against his, before he spoke again. This time, his voice was barely more than a whisper. “I shoulda said somethin’ sooner.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glance over your shoulder. His face was close, eyes half-lidded, but watching you. “Said what?” you asked quietly.

Kenny swallowed. You could hear it, feel it. That internal fight in him, struggling to claw its way out from behind years of grief and stubbornness. “That I-” He broke off, eyes flicking away from you. “Hell, I don’t know how to say it right. Ain’t good with words like that. Not anymore.”

You shifted fully now, rolling to face him, careful not to pull away too far. Your knees brushed his. “Try,” you whispered, gently. “Whatever it is… just try.”

Kenny’s eyes searched yours. For what, you didn’t know. Permission, maybe. Strength. Whatever he found there seemed to be enough, because after a moment, he nodded slightly, brow furrowing in that way that always meant he was feeling more than he wanted to admit.

“I care about you, more than I thought I ever could again,” he said. “After everything I lost, I figured that part of me was gone. Burned out.”

You said nothing. Just let him talk.

“But then you came along,” he continued, voice cracking a little. “And it scared the hell outta me. Because I kept waitin’ for the other shoe to drop. For the world to take you like it’s taken everyone else.”

You could see it in his face now, not just fear, but guilt. The guilt of letting someone in when he’d sworn he wouldn’t, the guilt of feeling something when others never got the chance.

“But every time I think maybe I should push you away, you go and do somethin’ like nearly gettin’ yourself killed for someone else.” He let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head slightly. “And I just… I can’t. I can’t push you away.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, a deep ache blooming in your chest. “Kenny…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his face, your fingertips brushing along his jaw.

“I ain’t sayin’ I deserve someone like you,” he said, eyes closing for a moment at your touch. “But I think I love you. I really think I do.”

There it was. Finally spoken. Raw, unpolished, and undeniably real.

You felt the sting of tears at the corners of your eyes, not from sadness but from the sheer weight of what that meant for both of you. That he was willing to open that part of himself again, despite everything. That he trusted you with it.

You leaned in, resting your forehead against his. “You do deserve it,” you whispered. “And I love you too, Kenny.”

His breath hitched, sharp and shaky. His arms pulled you closer, one around your waist, the other now cradling the back of your head like he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

#twd/reader

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reading-hub · 12 days ago

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“They would never be in a romantic relationship so this fic is—

Shhhhhhh they do now 🤫🤫🤫🤫

unless they specifically asked, you don’t get to tell a fanfic writer you think they mischaracterized the character by the way. because the second someone writes a fanfic about a character, that character becomes the writer’s own version of the character. canon is only a suggestion, but whether or not an author will follow it / how much of canon an author will take is entirely up to them. you don’t get to stick your nose in their world and tell them “hey this is not to my liking therefore I think you’re doing it wrong” when you can simply leave quietly and move on to something else you may enjoy

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reading-hub · 18 days ago

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tumblr is a pretty tolerable place when you have thousands of people blocked and hundreds of content filters active at all times

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reading-hub · 23 days ago

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the term “ai fanfiction/fanart” is such an oxymoron because AI cannot be a fan. it’s not involved in fandom spaces, it has no passion nor sentimental preference, it doesn’t dream about its beloved blorbo, nor can it be horny for their fave. it’s just a button click for fake creators that’ll steal stuff. hence “ai fan-xyz” and ai `art´ do not exist

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reading-hub · 23 days ago

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what to do when the movie is boring - bruno smut <3

pairing: Bruno Bucciarati x Yn (it's girl coded, im sorry T_T)

summary: cutie Bruno gets head. that is all.

warnings: none unless you don't mind smut?? do not interact if you're a minor pls. seriously, just don't, it's not for you littlies.

word count: 1.2k

i need him so bad, omg. this is so silly idk why i'm nervous posting smut to tumblr lol. not edited but i might revisit it idk, let me know what you think!

‘You wanna get snacks?’ Yn asks, turning to Bruno. ‘What are you looking at me like that for?’ Bruno blinks, coming of a daze. A delicate smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. ‘What? Sorry, I was, uh…’

‘Daydreaming?’ Yn says, tilting her head to the side. ‘What about?’ Bruno flicks her chin gently. ‘Just you. You look beautiful tonight.’ Pink blossoms over Yn’s cheeks. ‘Hush. You’re teasing me. Snacks?’ Bruno grins, a silly, goofy sight that is rare for him. ‘Sure. You pick.’ It is cool and dark in the theatre, the delicious smell of popcorn and various other snacks floating in the air as the two of them take their seat at the back. ‘Doesn’t look like many people are here.’ Yn peers into the rows below them. ‘No, it looks pretty empty. There’s only a couple of people other than us.’ ‘I hope that it’s not a reflection of the movie,’ Bruno says, scrunching his nose as he thinks. ‘Well, if it does,’ Yn says, getting comfortable in the seat, ‘we can just make out.’ Bruno looks at her sharply, and then softens. ‘Well… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. If no one saw us.’ Yn’s eyes flash mischieviously. ‘Not one for voyeurism?’ Bruno’s face flushes a lovely pink in the soft theatre glow. ‘What–’

‘Okay, shush,’ Yn says suddenly, placing a quick kiss to Bruno’s cheek, his skin warm under her lips. ‘The movie’s starting.’

Indeed the movie was boring. Thirty minutes in and Yn yawns, resting her head on Bruno’s shoulder. He absently strokes her bare thigh, the fabric of her dress rising ever so slightly without him realising until she looks up at him and presses a kiss to his neck. ‘What are you doing, darling?’ He whispers with a shiver. ‘Nothing, just–’ she kisses down his neck, pulling his collar away, ‘giving you little lovings.’ ‘Is that so?’ ‘Your hand is in dangerous territory, you know,’ Yn murmurs against his neck. She sucks on the soft skin, warm and sweet. Bruno’s breath hitches in his throat. He squeezes her thigh in his hand, smoothing the soft flesh in his palm. ‘Is it?’ ‘You hadn’t noticed?’ Yn leans over the armrest to press a kiss to his collarbone. ‘Hmmm…’

Yn decides to be bold. She strokes his chest, his tummy, and tugs on his belt, smiling when Bruno looks at her with a soft gasp.

‘May I?’

‘May you what?’ Bruno asks softly, eyes widening. ‘You seem to be straining against your belt…’ Yn purrs. ‘It must be awfully uncomfortable… Why don’t I fix it for you?’

Bruno manages to roll his eyes playfully, a soft smile gracing his lovely mouth. ‘What do you think you’re doing, sweet girl?’

Yn grins, unbuckling his belt and pressing her mouth to his. The kiss is soft for a moment before Bruno moves his hand to her neck, pulling her closer to him. He slips his tongue in between her lips, tasting her. A soft moan escapes his throat as Yn slips her hand down the front of his trousers, finding him warm and hardened already. She strokes slowly, the heat between them growing as their breaths become heavier.

Yn pulls away slightly, meeting his half-lidded gaze. ‘I want to taste you.’

Bruno blinks, distracted. ‘W-what? Here? Now?’

Yn nods, pressing soft kisses along his jaw.

‘You…’ Bruno whispers, stroking her check. His breath is hot on her lips, sweet like lemonade. ‘You really aren’t bothered if we get caught?’

‘Let them watch.’

‘Jesus,’ Bruno hisses, as she squeezes the tip of his cock gently.

‘Is that a yes?’ Yn murmurs, kissing the corner of his mouth.

Bruno nods, and hopes that it is dark enough in the theatre to get away with this.

Yn grins, slipping off the seat and onto the floor in front of him. She gently pushes his knees apart, stroking the insides of his thighs. Excitement is a lovely quickening heartbeat in her ears, and she swallows, her mouth already watering. She pulls his trousers down a little more, freeing his cock from their constraints.

Yn spits on her hands and strokes slowly, looking up at him, though only just making out the contours of his face in the movie screen’s light. He truly is beautiful, she thinks, the way his nose scrunches when he is deep in thought, the furrowing in his eyebrows, and the way his lovely ocean eyes lose focus when he is pleasured by her. She presses a kiss to his tip, rubbing her lips against the swollen head, and smiles as a tiny gasp escapes his lips.

Then she presses down, swirling her tongue around him and licking a delicious stripe slowly from base to ti. Warm and wet. She takes him into her mouth, resisting a giggle at the way he stifles a groan when he hits the back of her throat.

Yn looks up at him through her lashes and he meets her gaze. She holds it as she sucks gently, pulling away and taking him again, and again. She plays with his balls, the smooth skin tightening under her soft stroking and squeezing.

‘Oh, god,’ Bruno murmurs, biting his lip. He grips the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. ‘Just like that, sweet girl.’

Yn tries not to smile, her rhythm picking up pace as he grips her hair, tight and urgent. She squirms, rubbing her thighs together – the inside of her panties are an absolute mess already.

Bruno pants softly, sweat beading on his skin, his hair sticking to his forehead. He glances around, checking if anyone has heard them yet but as far as he is aware in his very dazed state, every lonely individual in the theatre is focused on the movie. ‘Yn…’

‘Hmm?’ Yn pauses, looking up at him, her eyes wide and innocent.

Bruno shakes his head. ‘Keep going, keep… going,’ he pants, bucking his hips up, pushing into her warm mouth with a moan. He grips the armrests, imagining the sounds she might make if he bent her over the chair and fucked her right then and there, sinking his cock into her sweet pussy instead of her mouth. He licks his lips, hungry for her as he looks down, watching himself disappear, her pretty pink lips wrapped around his length.

‘Fuck, you’re so pretty,’ Bruno pants. ‘That’s my girl… My good girl…’

Yn whimpers as she sucks him a little harder, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, willing herself not to gag but doing it anyway as Bruno fucks her mouth.

‘I–I’m close…’ He murmurs, gripping her hair. Yn’s too full of him to respond, sucking him with a fervent focus, willing him to give her all of him. Tears roll down her cheeks as she gags again, his cock twitching as it hits the back of her throat with force.

A moment later, a strangled moan stifled by his arm as he spills himself into her mouth, hot and sticky.

Yn swallows, sucking him slowly as he rides out the pleasure, and then pulls back with a small ‘pop’ of her lips. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, meeting Bruno’s eyes.

He peers at her from underneath his arm thrown over his face, catching his breath, and gives her a smile. ‘C’mere, you gorgeous girl.’

Yn grins, reaching up to kiss him. ‘How was that?’ She murmurs against his mouth.

‘It’s worthy of everything I’m going to do to you when we get home…’ Bruno replies, nibbling at her lip. ‘Let’s go.’

#jojo/reader #smut

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reading-hub · 24 days ago

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Oh and here’s this cute, fluffy line, too:

<33333

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reading-hub · 25 days ago

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GUYS—If you are currently simping or have ever simped for Bruno Bucciarati—JUST FUCKING LISTEN TO THIS, OKAY?? (18+)

ThIS IS NOT AI. This is Ray Chase’s ACTUAL voice.

336 notes · View notes

reading-hub · 25 days ago

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may all your favorite fanfic writers never lose their hyperfixation and love for your blorbos so they keep writing fanfics about your blorbos forever

54K notes · View notes

reading-hub · 27 days ago

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If ANY of yall EVER do this shit to me, im deleting every single fic out of spite.

If I ever catch one of yall doing this to another author and I know youre a follower of my work I will block you personally on every platform

None of yall are the fic police. I DESPISE genai. I think its an insult to art, humanity, and the planet itself. But aint not a single fucking person here qualified to pick apart a strangers fic looking for a gotcha moment to make yourselves feel superior. If you think something is ai you can ask the author (most are proud of the ai use and will just tell you straight up) if they say yes you have your answer and can warn people. If they say no and you dont believe them you block and quietly keep it between you and maybe a close group of friends. Spreading misinformation is DANGEROUS. And NONE of you doing this shit are anywhere near qualified to do it.

THIS GOES DOUBLY FOR ARTISTS.

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reading-hub · 28 days ago

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Hottest couple trope: delinquent bad boy thinks he’s charming the pants off of the socially awkward nerd when in reality the nerd is a secret horn dog and has been prepared for this very moment…

#fanfiction #smut #Wattpad #tropes

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reading-hub · 1 month ago

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Arkham Mad Hatter NSFW Headcanons

Favorite Position:

Missionary. Jervis is obsessed with being as close to his partner as possible. Missionary, or even side by side, gives him the opportunity to being as close to you as he physically can. He desperately craves the physical contact and closeness, so he can murmur sweet nothings into your ear and maintain eye contact.

Prone Bone or side-by-side are close seconds. Anything where he’s as close to you as possible, with almost nothing in between, will drive him mad.

Least Favorite Position:

Doggystyle. Jervis doesn’t like how far away he feels from his partner in this position. He detests not being able to look into his partner’s eyes and see their expression. He finds this position to be too disconnected.

Oral – Giving, Receiving, or Both:

Jervis greatly enjoys giving oral. There’s nothing sweeter to him than burying his face in his partner’s wet cunt, lapping at their clit as his partner whines and cries from above. He’s a big fan of watching his partner come undone with just the use of his tongue.

While he doesn’t hate receiving it himself, he’s quite sensitive to the size of his length, and he’s self-conscious when his partner pays special attention to his cock. His insecurities make it hard for him to truly sit back and enjoy it.

Anal:

Jervis isn’t into it. Jervis relies heavily on keeping his partner pristine and soft, and anal feels too degrading to him. He feels like it’s too much of an intrusion into his partner, and he’s hesitant to try it. With a lot of coaxing, he’s willing to try, but it’s not his first choice.

Turn-Ons:

Eye Contact. Jervis relies heavily on being able to look into his partner’s eyes. Maintaining intense eye contact will be enough to get him going.

Obedience. Jervis is dependent on control, especially in his Wonderland, and having his partner treat him like he’s their Master will get him going.

Jervis is turned on by delicate softness. Anything like quiet, breathy speech, or anything distinctly feminine is a huge plus. Laces, frills, dresses, vintage jewelry or clothing, he’s definitely going to take notice.

Jervis appreciates someone kind and thoughtful. He doesn’t appreciate rudeness. He’s much more attracted to a partner who’s willing to help out a stranger than someone who just passes by them on the street.

Creativity in a partner is a big plus. Someone who can paint, draw, sing, play an instrument – he’s attracted to all of it. He likes a partner who see’s the world through the same lens of color and fantasy.

Turn-Offs:

Crudeness or abrasiveness. Jervis is sure enough to be turned off by someone who’s too loud or too bold. He’s desperate to maintain his illusion, and anyone who breaks that is sure to enrage him.

Disobedience. Jervis gets off on illusion and control, and someone who questions him or defies him will immediately turn him away. Anyone who dares break his fantasy is not someone he wants to associate with.

Anyone too “logical”. It’s not that Jervis isn’t a logical man, but anyone who’s quick to try and see the world through a more realistic lens (such as saying ghosts aren’t real, or faeries are a myth) won’t please him. Jervis wants to indulge himself in a fantasy world and he doesn’t like being broken out of that.

Kinks:

Mind Control (consensual) - of course, Jervis relies heavily on his mind control capabilities. As long as his partner consents, Jervis is going to enjoy using mind control on them in ways to heighten pleasure and the experience.

Light Bondage – Jervis isn’t into anything too heavy, but tying his partner up with ribbons and lace is going to do it for him.

Dollification – Jervis is very much into turning his partner into a living doll. He’ll dress them up, pose them how he wishes, and give gentle commands for them to behave how he wants. Jervis is trapped in his own fantasy, and having a partner who allows him to play out that fantasy will truly send him wild.

Experience Level:

Little to none. Jervis has very little experience, but he’s learned to make up for his inexperience with enthusiasm. A partner with a little more experience to show him the ropes is something he’ll appreciate.

Pace Preference:

Slow. Jervis really likes to take his time and savor the encounter. He prefers slow, deep thrusts to rough, brutal ones. He treats his partner with a desperate tenderness, careful where to put his hands. He treats you like you’re royalty; fast and rough isn’t his style.

Aftercare:

Tender. Jervis is obsessed with making sure his partner is well taken care of afterwards. He’ll provide water or tea or food. He’ll tuck you in and brush your hair, read you poems or recite stories. He craves the intimacy that aftercare provides.

Jervis will also cuddle, at times even refusing to let go until you reassure him several times that you enjoyed the encounter and that you’re well. He’s terrified of hurting you, and needs constant reassurance.

Dirty Talk:

Jervis abhors dirty talk. He doesn’t like profanity and finds it too filthy for his tongue. His version of dirty talked is laced with sweet words, laced with implications without outright dropping to a level of pure filth. His words remain poetic and obsessive, walking you through what he’s doing or how you’re feeling with a careful choice of words, while weaving in rhymes and speaking in a singsong like whisper.

He’ll never use words like “cock”, “cunt”, or “pussy”. He much prefers flowery language to describe genitalia, and weaves into his rhymes and descriptions of the act itself.

Public vs Private:

Definitely private. Jervis isn’t near confident enough to ever be caught with his partner somewhere others can see. He’s values you as his own Alice, his living doll, and the idea of someone else seeing you in such a state drives him mad.

Jervis also takes great care in how he’s perceived, and being seen out of his fantasy – or doing anything to break it – will ruin him.

Control Preference:

Jervis’s craves control, but not in the traditional sense. He won’t use dangerous words or threats to get what he wants. He doesn’t like when his partner disobeys him, or anything that threatens his fantasy. He relies on clever word play and hypnosis to keep others away from you, rather than rely on brute strength.

Clothing Preference:

Jervis is far too insecure about his body to undress fully. He doesn’t like you seeing him naked, so the most he’ll do is take off his trench coat and unbutton his shirt.

As for his partner, he’s obsessed with lace, frills, dresses – he loves when his partner dresses intricately for him. Brightly colored fabrics, delicate whites, bows – he craves his partner being fully dressed and wearing vintage styled designs.

Of course, he’s obsessed with dressing you like Alice, and prefers you wear the costume during the deed.

The hat stays on.

How to Fluster Them:

Jervis is easily flustered, and it doesn’t take much to throw him off kilter. An unexpected touch, a compliment, your laugh – it’s going to drive him wild. Especially when you play into the fantasy. However, when you do break from the fantasy and treat him like he’s a real person, and not a character, that will be sure enough to make him get flustered.

Favorite Time of the Day:

Twilight/Dusk. The magic hour. Jervis craves fantasy, and the moment where the veil before the real world and the spiritual one are the thinnest is his favorite time of day.

Favorite Place to Have Sex:

His bedroom. Jervis craves the softness of his bed, and he finds his bedroom to be a sacred place. Inviting you into it – sharing himself with you – is not something he takes lightly. Jervis wants to treat you with great care and make sure you’re comfortable, and his bed is the best place to do that.

Secret Soft Spot:

His nipples. Jervis’s nipples are rather sensitive, and taking your time to stroke them or suck on them is sure enough to make him melt.

Favorite Place to Be Touched:

His sides. The gentle brush of your delicate fingers at his sides will make him come undone. He craves the feeling of your fingertips along his ribs.

Least Favorite Place to Be Touched:

His scalp. Jervis is incredibly sensitive to anyone reaching up underneath his hat. Your hands straying to that area will make him back away and grow fearful. His hat greatly plays into his fantasy, and the idea of letting someone so near frightens him.

Jealousy/Possessive Level:

Extremely high. Jervis is not willing to share his Alice. While he doesn’t react in a typical way – such as with anger or an outburst – Jervis will withdraw further into his fantasies, choosing to lose himself into his delusions rather than face the extreme jealousy coursing through his veins.

If he does manage to have an outburst, you can be sure there might be so tears. He may cry and cower into you for reassurance that you’re still his and that he hasn’t lost you.

Don’t be surprised if he ends up killing any perceived competition. Of course not with his bare hands – but hypnotizing his rival into jumping off a bridge or stepping into oncoming traffic is his style.

Favorite Compliments During Sex:

Jervis is incredibly needy for your attention and affection. Anything that reaffirms his fantasy, such a calling him “Mr. Hatter”, is going to drive him wild. He needs reassurance that you find him attractive, wanted, and needed.

Reaffirming that you’re his Alice, that you’re his toy, is going to really get him going. Jervis doesn’t need his ego stroked – he just needs to know that you want him as badly as he wants you.

Stamina:

Average. Jervis isn’t super human, and he gets overwhelmed easily. He’ll usually last one round, but he’s eager to please, and will push himself to go farther if it means satisfying his partner.

Marking Preference:

Jervis greatly cares for his partner’s well-being. He’s not one to mark his partner physically, so don’t expect bruises, bite marks, or scratches. His version of marking relies more on clothing preferences – dresses with lace and frills, an Alice costume, intricate jewelry. He’s more about dressing his partner up in his designs than he is marking their body. He wants you as pristine and soft as possible, not ruined.

Tits, Ass, or Both:

Jervis likes both, but not in a crude way. He see’s your body as a work of art, and appreciates every part of you. He’s especially fond of hands, slender legs, or a soft tummy – he craves softness in general.

Length:

Jervis is a bit smaller than average. He’s about 3 inches flaccid, and 4 inches erect.

He’s also not circumcised. His foreskin wraps around the head of the penis. His length curves slightly upward.

Mess Preference:

Jervis isn’t a big fan of the mess. He likes his partner to be pretty, and any mess he’s quick to clean up. He doesn’t like the image of his partner being “ruined”. He’d rather maintain the image of his partner being pristine and keeping the fantasy intact.

Grooming Preference:

Jervis craves neatness and order. He keeps himself groomed, and he expects the same from his partner. With himself, he’s not as meticulous, but with you, he expects an almost obsessive neatness: clean skin, shiny soft hair, nails trimmed, smelling of sweet roses and sugary treats.

When his mental state is bad enough, he’s quick to forgo grooming with himself. It’s typical of him to let himself go and stop taking care of his appearance.

Love Language (In Bed):

Physical Touch – Jervis relies heavily on physical contact. He’s desperate for your touch, your hugs and kisses, and the intimacy that comes from skin-to-skin touch. He dreads distance from you.

He’s also partial to Words of Affirmation. Having you assure him with compliments, words of love and affection, are what he craves secondary.

Sexual Insecurities:

Jervis is very insecure about the size of his penis. He know it’s smaller than average, and his inexperience makes him worry he’s not doing enough to please you. However, he makes up for it with enthusiasm and affection.

Likewise, he’s also insecure about his height. He knows he doesn’t have an intimidating aura of typical manly stature, and he worries that you’ll see him as less than because of it.

Post-Sex Behavior:

After sex, Jervis takes great care to make sure you’re alright. He’s big on after care, and he enjoys cuddling or partaking in a tea party. He likes to savor the moments afterward, and will often spend the next several hours thinking over what happened.

Jervis doesn’t like to leave your side lightly. Unlike other Rogues, he’d rather remain by your side for as long as he possibly can, at least until something else desperately needs his attention. If he can, he’ll take the opportunity to fall asleep with his head on your chest, listening to the beating of your heart.

#best.hatter.headcannons.EVER!!#jervis/reader #arkham/reader

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reading-hub · 1 month ago

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✧Darling from Our World — Chisaki Kai/Overhaul✧

So I mentioned before that I had a concept in my head that involved Chisaki. Welp, here it is.

Imagine Chisaki finding a darling who is not from the world he's in. What if the darling was from our world?

I don't know how a meeting between the two would go about but oof. He would notice your expression of complete and utter confusion towards the many people who possessed quirks. If unfortunately he gets to you, he'll ask questions on where you came from; you stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd with your constant state of bewilderment. You're hesitant to give him information, but his charming front that he puts up eased your mind a bit.

Chisaki is intrigued to say the least when you state that you're unfamiliar with everything going on. However, once you tell him that where you come from, no one had quirks and lived normal lives, he had to do a double take. A world without quirks? No heroes or villains? Everyone was completely quirkless? It was everything Chisaki had been working towards and he was rather envious of you. It was almost hard to believe until you showed that you were in fact quirkless and clueless to how things worked around here. Huh.

It got him pondering. That pondering then led to the gears in his mind turning. You were clean. Absolutely clean from the moment you came into the world you were from. Your society was clean. Your mindset was too, probably if the only acts of heroism and villainy that occurred here were just in comics and movies. Oh, Chisaki had to have it. He couldn't just let you get away that easy, even if he told you that he'd help you get back home. You'll learn sooner or later that those words he uttered were just a lie.

If it was possible for you to get here, then it would be so for him to go over to your world right? Until then, you're not going anywhere. You're everything Chisaki had been working towards and he's sure as hell that he won't be letting go. Besides, how would you survive out there? You know nothing about this world and how it ticks. You'd be lost. Lost without someone to act as a guide. Maybe he can even show you this world through his perspective; expose your mind to the sickness seeping from those who have quirks.

#tw yandere #overhaul/reader

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reading-hub · 1 month ago

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Hi ~ I wanted to know if you could make a Headcanon where Qrow, Ironwood, Ozpin and Clover find out that they fell in love with a very young girl, like Yang's current age? If you feel uncomfortable doing this, I understand.

✧Younger (20+) Darling — Qrow, Ironwood, Ozpin, Clover✧

Hello there! I'm completely alright with your request since Yang and the others are 18+ (close to 20), so you're definitely okay! 。^‿^｡

Warning(s): Age Difference (Darling is at least 20), Delusional Behavior, Manipulation, Isolation, Self Loathing (mostly from Qrow), Implied Violence (Not towards darling)

✧Qrow Branwen✧

Qrow certainly has a bunch of conflicting feelings about this. It shouldn't really bother him this much, but in the end, it does. He beats himself over the fact that you may think he's a creep for liking someone of your age. There is also the daunting thought of holding you back in life for even having these feelings for you. Pretty much a lot of self-deprecation on his end where he doesn't believe he deserves you. However, there is the burning desire to protect you that sometimes overtakes him. You are someone who has not been exposed to too many of the dangers of the world. He has. Qrow isn't trying to baby you at all; he knows that would be insulting. All he's saying is that you should have someone around mostly because of the fear of something terrible happening.

He finds himself sticking around, but not too close due to the fear of his semblance bringing about danger to you. It hurts too much to try to avoid you. Qrow will eventually come to terms with his feelings for you but refuses to tell you about them. He deems it better that way, so you'll probably have to figure that out on your own. Qrow is the type of yandere to be overprotective but at the same time, distant with his darling. Unfortunately, he's still rather desperate to just cling to you; wanting to ignore the consequences for once in his life instead of going through life walking on eggshells. It would take something major to finally own up to everything he's been hiding and reveal his yandere tendencies.

✧James Ironwood✧

Is even more protective of his darling in all honesty. He's generally an extremely overprotective yandere, but a darling that has this sort of age gap with him makes him even more so than usual. His paranoia is almost through the roof as he urges ways to keep your safety in check. It's rather subtle and you won't notice the sudden changes unless Ironwood's fear gets the best of him. Sadly, he sort of babies you, in a way, not truly believing you're capable of fending for yourself. You have no idea of what lies beneath the surface of just fighting against criminals and Grimm. And you never will. Ironwood simply cannot put the burden of such knowledge of Salem onto your shoulders; you have so much of your life ahead of you. So you can expect it to be quite frustrating once you're told you are not allowed to do certain tasks. If you're aiming to be a huntress, he'll keep your missions to a level where you can handle them and it is to be expected at least one of the Ace Ops to come along. Sooner or later this will piss you off, but he doesn't care. That sounds mean, but he just wants what's best for you of course.

On the topic of your age and his initial reaction to his feelings for you... It does make him do a double-take. Ironwood ponders on the situation until he concludes that it's fine. He won't be upfront with his affections, instead with his concerns for your life. That is what comes first. Still, even so, he will come to the conclusion of kidnapping you should you try to reject his help or things get too dangerous for his liking. He believes it's the only way to keep your safety at bay without stressing himself out with the thoughts of if you'll come back from certain missions. Before that time comes, Ironwood will rely on manipulation tactics. I mean, he knows better due to his vast understanding of what lies under the surface, correct? He's a professional huntsman, a general, and the headmaster of Atlas Academy, so it would make sense that his actions are just out of experience, right? Again, he doesn't like doing this to you, but he brushes it aside with his excuse of knowing what's best for you.

✧Ozpin✧

This man has certainly had his fair share of relationships in the past; with many different individuals. Though this time, things are different and he did not intend to fall for someone as young as you. He gets upset with himself, and his emotions. Still, it wouldn't be too big of a difference if you were older, but with his line of past lives, he doesn't want to place such a burden on you. His guilt is just much worse because you're on the younger side. You have so much of your life ahead of you. Why put the pressure and cost of being with him upon you? Ozpin has time to collect his thoughts before deciding to keep this from you. Only to watch you from the sidelines to make sure you're safe. This is just because he deeply cares for you. Occasionally Ozpin will check on you to see how your mental/physical/emotional health is doing.

Ozpin is not as overbearing as Ironwood, nor is he as distant as Qrow. He plays his cards right and just wants to at least create some form of bond between the two of you. He wants to know your likes and dislikes, how you present yourself to others, how you do so with friends, what makes you laugh, what makes you passionate, etc. That'll suffice for him. All this without having to stalk you at all. This is mostly because he is someone everyone deems as easy to talk to. That is the type of person he wants to be for you; someone you can be relaxed around. He's one of those who is extremely aware of his yandere tendencies but keeps himself at bay. Admittedly, deep down he wants to be selfish sometimes, especially when it comes to you. Maybe along the line, he will admit everything to you. Though, he wouldn't be able to bear the thought of you hating him for his feelings. That's one thing he can't allow. The only way to actually get him to act more on his yandere tendencies is if something really really bad happened to you. It'll be the thing that flips the switch and has Ozpin changing tactics. Everything to keep you safe.

✧Clover Ebi✧

Just like Qrow, Clover definitely has some mixed feelings over the whole situation. But for different reasons except the obvious one. For one, he has a duty as a member of the Ace Ops, and second would be regarding your age. The latter isn't all too bad, he thinks when mulling over it in his head for a good few minutes on his own. Though, he doesn't know how you'd feel. What would you even think if you'd known? Unlike Qrow, he won't be staying away from you, probably doing the opposite. He wants to believe in you, that's for sure. However, it's hard to do so sometimes. Clover will have the tendency to treat you like you still need some guidance from a professional. His stance on this is that it's technically true. You're still fresh out of the academy so it's understandable that you still have much to learn, right? I mean, you can't argue with that. Especially when he offers to train you in your skills. How thoughtful of him. Besides, being by his side means you'll be safe from any danger due to his semblance. He'll keep you safe. Soon, the concern over your age doesn't bother him anymore. He can just charm you into staying.

You'd be surprised that Clover can keep his yandere traits in check, but they do slip out here and there. But that's nothing he should worry about. You won't find out too soon. He's just that lucky. None of those traits that should be considered red flags seem like that at all. Why? Clover is just being a great guy, why would he ever try to play with your mind? He just cares a lot. You push those preposterous thoughts out of your head. He's only pairing you up with you on missions constantly because he trusts you a lot. Well... In reality, he's trying to keep you by his side and if he's being honest... He gets this irking feeling whenever he sees your attention on others. It's okay though, you're eyes won't be on them for long when you figure out something might be out of place with those you talk to. In a way, Clover feels like he can be selfish from time to time. So it's okay if he handles those who disrespect you or even think of flirting with you. Nothing too bad, mind you. Only if they want it to escalate that is. Anyways, Clover's honey-covered words are sure to get through to those who have the audacity to do that.

#tw yandere #rwby/reader

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reading-hub · 1 month ago

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Thanks for doing my last one but what about a darling who is actually a bigger yandere then they are and kidnaps them for themselves

Yandere Rwby with a yandere darling who kidnaps them first

Includes:Blake,Roman,Neo,Ironwood,Raven

Blake

Blake would be a mess. Just so many emotions that she truly doesn’t know what to do. After a few minutes had passed and she started to calm down she’d be happy. She’d tell you how much she loved you too but that you didn’t need to go through all the effort of kidnapping her. You didn’t need rope and chains to keep her with you forever. Blake would try and convince you to let her go so that she could show you just how much she loved you.

Roman

Roman would be his usual self. Cocky and sarcastic with his lil smirk and a snappy comment. Truly he’d thought about being tied down by you before. Maybe not quite like this but who’s he to complain. If anything this would make him love you even more and swear that he’ll be your captive anytime.

Neo

Neo would have herself out of her restraints almost as soon as she realizes they’re there. She appreciates what you’ve done but she’s not really the kidnapee type. She’d make it clear that she felt the same and would spend the rest of the day with you. When she does leave, she comes back with a bunch of her own stuff. There’s no need to kidnap each other if you’re both staying together voluntarily.

Ironwood

I can’t decide if he’d be into you taking charge like that or annoyed by it. Maybe a mix of both. He likes knowing that you’re willing to do all this for him, that maybe he’s not as messed up as he thought if you’re the same as him but he’d also be apologetic to you. Apologizing for not making his love for you clearer, he never wanted to make you feel as if you had to do this because he didn’t love and care for you.

Raven

Raven would laugh. She’d laugh that you thought you could really keep her and she’d laugh that you think you’re in charge. Raven would be condescending about the whole situation. Cooing about how bad wherever you were keeping her was, teasing you about your sloppy knot tying and taunting you for whatever plan you had to take care of her. She’d slip out of her restraints with ease and stalk towards you like a cat to a mouse.

#rwby/reader #tw yandere

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reading-hub · 1 month ago

Text

kill kill

pairing: james ironwood/fem!reader

rating: explicit, mdni

word count: ~2.6k

warnings: gun play, choking, degradation, daddy kink, size difference, semi-public sex, smoking, sadism (?)

notes: imported from my ao3!! originally posted on nov. 17, 2020

crossposted on ao3

james' eyes were dark. you couldn't tell if it was lust or just his naturally serious demeanor taking over or something else, but you couldn't help but be afraid.

"come here." he beckoned from his place behind his huge desk, stars glimmering in the night sky beyond him. you walked forward from your place at the doorway shyly, marble floors of the office shiny beneath your feet.

you walked behind the dest and plopped down in your usual spot on his lap, allowing james to wrap a burly arm around you and tug you closer to his broad chest.

"you know why i called you here," he muttered, keeping a watchful eye on the papers he was filling out. "don't you, angel?"

"yes," you panted, eyebrows furrowed with need. "yes, daddy."

"then you know what you're gonna do," james said coldly, sending a shiver to you. he was awfully mean tonight. someone must've pissed him off. "go on, don't waste my time."

he was still working on his papers when you sunk to your knees before him, slipping under the desk easily. you unbuckled his belt softly, dainty fingers pulling the expensive leather from the metal buckle. james sighed as you nuzzled the inside of his thigh affectionately, and he would have made a cruel remark about how long you were taking to suck him off already, but the gesture was too sweet for him to resist rewarding with a hand on the back of your head.

you mouthed softly at the growing tent in his pants, leaving a small wet patch to be observed as you unzipped his navy blue slacks. feeling a kick of james' metal-toed boots at your side, you got on with it, pulling down the waistband of his boxers. his cock sprung out of his boxers, head an angry cherry red and dripping with precum.

james sighed as you licked the head, hand faltering at his paperwork for just a second. the hand he had kept on the back of your head tightened in your hair momentarily as you took him fully into your mouth, gagging around him.

"good girl," he muttered softly from above you, very clearly more focused on completing the stack of paperwork before him than the fact that you were under his desk, sucking his dick. pushing yourself even more to please him, to earn some sort of reaction out of him, you determined that you were going to take him all the way to the hilt. you relaxed the muscle in your esophagus, pushing him even deeper down your throat, tears racing out of their ducts on to your ruddy cheeks.

you, through your tears, began to bob your head, eyes crinkling in discomfort from his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

moving your tongue as much as you could on the underside of his cock, you ran the muscle along the vein you knew he liked having touched, pleased to earn a grunt of approval.

he scooted out from the desk to allow you a little more room to do your work, pulling out a drawer to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. james took a lighter from an inside pocket of his jacket, lighting a cigarette and releasing a puff of smoke.

he gazed lazily down at you, the blue in his eyes hard and rigid. you gazed up at him as you continued, small hands resting on his thighs to keep you grounded at the very least. god, did james look so good, sitting above you, lazily puffing on a cigarette.

his eyebrows were furrowed into a dark glare as he bucked his hips into your mouth, watching as you winced and gagged around him. james dragged you off his dick by your hair, allowing you to gulp in air. he stared intently down at you with those eyes, piercing blue burrowing into your deepest thoughts at that moment. a gentle hand began to swipe a handkerchief across your lips, cleaning the spit and precum off your chin, moving up to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"continue," james barked, pleased at your obedience to his whims. you attached your mouth to him again, forcing his length down your throat again and again. "good."

his hips bucked up into your mouth repeatedly, borderline face-fucking you. james, somewhere in the back of his mind, felt bad. you gazed desperately up at him, tears rolling down your cheeks from the effort of taking him, spit dripping down on to your clothes, small hands gripping his slacks. despite the image that sat before him, his mind was made up. you would take him 'til he finished, and he knew how you would do anything to make him happy.

of course, james would never dream of exploiting this. you were far too pretty and far too affectionate for him to go about manipulating you. he might've been a bad man, some would consider him a monster, an abomination of the human form. notwithstanding, james was as devoted to you as you were him. he couldn't stand to see you hurt by anyone or anything, much less by his own hand.

there was a gleam in his eyes as he approached his orgasm, a soft reverence to you. some would say that he had the upper hand, maybe even the benefactor of a power dynamic between the two fo you. truth was, no matter how much you denied it, you had james wrapped around your little finger. he was merely a servant to your whim, no matter how much power he liked to express over you when the two of you fucked.

he took another drag off his cigarette, tapping it on the crystal ashtray you had gotten him for his birthday last year. it was simple, but held a special place in james' heart. you slurped messily away at his cock, tongue working its magic on him.

"thaat's right," he groaned appreciatively, tightening his hand in your hair. "take it, slut. show me what a good little cocksucker you are."

you moaned around him, vibrations from your voice drawing a hiss from the older man. james gazed idly at you, a feeling himself getting closer to coming. leaning forward from his idle spot before you, he smirked.

your eyes widened impossibly as james' large hand closed over your nose, restricting almost all breathing.

"make daddy come and you get to breathe," he spoke, bemused. you continued, the dizzying lack off air sending shivers to you. it didn't take long for your tongue to make him finish, the raven-haired man groaning and releasing your nose.

you pulled away and gasped for air, a mix of spit and cum dropping onto the floor beneath you.

"swallow it." james ordered, wrapping a hand around your neck, not to choke, just to feel your throat undulate with the effort of swallowing his cum. you obeyed, swallowing the remaining cum and opening your mouth for him to check, as he always did.

"tongue out." he barked, spitting a wad of saliva into your mouth. keeping his hand on your throat just to feel it go up and down, james leaned back again, releasing your neck from his grip. you, of course, knew what came next, so you crawled out from under the desk. james, a gentleman even in moments like these, took the liberty of picking you up by your armpits and sitting you down on his huge metal desk. this sweet façade didn't last long as he watched you shiver at the cold metal against your already wet panties.

"do you really think i fucking care if you're cold?" james asked harshly, blue eyes boring into you with such force that you are taken aback for a moment. 'it's fine, it's just the character,' you reassured yourself, 'it's nothing, he's just worked up, is all.'

it was the truth. in any moment other than those, james would have lifted you up again and given you his coat, or rushed to set you down on another surface.

"i asked you a goddamn question, whore." he spat, a vein popping in his forehead beneath the mussed-up mop of black hair.

"no," you stumbled over your words. "you don't care if i'm cold."

"that's right." james grabbed your chin, glaring down at you. "surprised you even got that right, stupid slut."

you pouted, squeezing your thighs together. james' jaw tightened at this, ripping them apart.

"you're really that desperate?" he was fuming. snatching your panties off your hips, james continued to berate you. "you can't fucking wait for me? or are you just so fucking dumb that you can't understand the goddamn rules we put in place, huh?!"

you were crying as he pulled your shirt over your head, removing the rest of your clothes.

"you know," james grunted as he pushed into you, watching you squirm beneath him at the sheer size of him. "anyone could walk in on us right now, couldn't they? see you like this, taking cock like a good little girl. you'd like that, wouldn't you? for someone see you all stretched out and crying like this. dirty whore."

he moved and you completely lost it. this was... new. james had either never been this pissed off about anything or he had never shown you. either way, everything felt better. he was so deep inside you, his cock fitting snugly (which was an understatement, it was a tight fit) inside you.

"fuck.." you heard him curse through his teeth, moving his hips slowly to allow you to get used to him. james gritted his teeth, trying to keep the shred of self control he had left intact, for the sake of not hurting you.

"harder, please, gods! daddy, fuck, i need it harder!" you whined, gazing up at him tearfully.

"you want daddy to fuck your dumb little brains out?" james grabbed your face, spitting again into your mouth and watching as you swallowed eagerly. he pulled almost all the way out, pausing and then ramming himself back in at full force. you screamed, tears mixing with dry makeup on your cheeks. "jesus fucking christ, you are such a little brat bitch, aren't you? you ask daddy to fuck you harder and you cry like a little cumslut when he does. you're fucking pathetic."

james flipped you over harshly, watching you shiver.

"i don't wanna see your fucking face." he slapped your ass with his metal hand, watching you scream in the pain and the pleasure. "you're a sick bitch, aren't you? huh? you get off when daddy hits you. disgusting."

"yes! yes! oh, daddy, i'm a sick little bitch." james smirked as you degraded yourself, watching you move forward with the momentum of his thrusts.

"you're daddy's disgusting, sick, cum-guzzling little fuckhole, aren't you?" your eyes were practically stuck in the back of your head, moans echoing in the huge office. you felt cold metal on your back, suspecting it was his hand, but you didn't know how mistaken you were. "say it."

you moaned instead of answering, rocking your hips back against him. holy shit, you realized. it was his gun.

"you know," james continues, dragging the metal up your back to your neck. "it's loaded."

"umph," you groaned at a particularly hard thrust. "ah-i'm daddy's disgusting, sick, cum-guzzling little fuckhole, FUCK." the gun was at the back of your head. normally, of course, you would be terrified that someone had a gun to the back of your head. but this? it felt strangely erotic, and sure as hell, it felt sick and demented, but that made it all the better.

"that's right, whore." james continued harshly, almost as if the words weren't even for you to get off to anymore, for him. "you really are a sick. little. bitch. aren't you? look at how wet you're fucking getting because i've got a goddamn gun to your head. does that turn you on?"

you were screaming, his cockhead bumping that little spot that made you scream each time he pushed himself back into you.

"huh? does it turn you on that i could fucking kill you right now? you'd let me, wouldn't you, you repugnant little whore." you are babbling incoherently beneath james, convulsing. "come."

and so you did. you curled your toes and sprouted a fresh round of tears, slumping against the desk, basking in your hedonistic glee. james followed you quickly, groaning and setting his gun down, hand gripping your hips so tight you knew there would be bruises.

off, ignwhat had he done? james felt so... disgusted with himself. he held a fucking gun to your head just to get off, ignoring wether or not you felt safe. that was his top priority from the beginning. to keep you safe. to keep you away from the people who would hold guns to your head. worst of all, he had fucking liked it. liked how you trusted him with your life, how you let him do whatever to you.

james stumbled backward into his chair, eyes wide and breathing heavy. you flipped yourself over shakily, only to find your boyfriend gazing at you with a horrified look on his face. you, in the haze of an orgasm, could not recognize this and sat down on james' lap, hissing at the feeling of his rough pants on your still-sensitive clit. you snuggled into his much larger form, kissing the place where his beard met his neck, which you knew he liked.

"you," james paused, arms gripping the sides of the chair harshly. "shouldn't be around me."

you shot up, looking at him with just the same wide eyes. you recognized this look. it was the same one he would get when he sat up quickly in a cold sweat after a nightmare, when he would see something that reminded him of the things he had seen before meeting you, before you had even been born.

"james, what happened?" he got up from the chair, sliding you off his lap. "what's going on?"

"i'm so sorry, i-" he tucked himself back into his pants, zipping up his fly and beginning to collect your clothes from the ground. "gods, what have i-"

"for the gun thing?" you asked, looking content as ever.

"god, y/n, i held a fucking gun to your head, how are you ok with this?" james was confused, looking around the room for any kind of logic.

"i liked it." you smiled, standing up and resting your head against his broad chest.

"you.." james' eyebrows were knitted together. "that doesn't make sense."

"a lot of things don't make sense." you wrapped your arms around him, running your small hands up and down his back. "i dunno, i just liked it. doesn't gotta make sense."

"but i liked-"

"it's ok. you can like it." you hummed contentedly, kissing him through his thick layers of military garb.

james smiled at your reassurance, wrapping his burly arms around you too.

you giggled softly, causing him to pull away and look, confused, down at you.

"i can't take this seriously." you laughed, your smile calming your mountain of a boyfriend.

"and why is that?" james questioned.

"because! i'm totally naked and you're fully clothed! you still have that stupid coat on!" you snickered, clutching your sides.

"the coat," he grunted as he picked you back up so you could sit on his desk again. "is not stupid. it's... classy."

"agree to disagree." you smiled as he put your underwear back on, kissing you every once in a while.

"no," james argued playfully. "i wanna hear more about your rationale."

"well, it's-" you argued, interrupted by a kiss as you held your arms up for your shirt to be put back on. "that's cheating."

all james did was stare at you adoringly, slipping your skirt back up.

"i'm sorry," he spoke teasingly, "you're too pretty when you're arguing with me."

#rwby/reader

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