#[ ooc: ] All good! Take all the time you need on your responses ^^

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

[starconchs]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒— bakugo katsuki

pairing: pro hero bakugo katsuki x gn reader summary: when aizawa calls and asks for a personal favor, bakugo is ready to expect the worst. genre: strangers to lovers, fluff word count: ~7k warnings: mentions of stalking, nothing happens, you take care of it notes: sorry if he's ooc, take this more as a character study. just a little test to see how i feel when writing for bakugo. description of quirk left super vague, literally just a mention of it being helpful. not proofread sorry ummm rushed too

When Bakugo Katsuki gets a call from Aizawa, he doesn't know what to expect.

There's a brief moment of silence when the call connects, and Bakugo feels himself tense slightly when Aizawa does not speak immediately. He's the first to give in, gruffly greeting his former teacher and being met with nothing but a sigh in return.

"Bakugo," Aizawa starts, his tone dull and tired. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, but i need you to do me a personal favor."

Another moment of silence ensues as Bakugo processes his request. He knows he can say no, but there's something about the fact that Aizawa— the man who has been through everything with him and his former classmates, fought with them and for them, and stood up for him when he was kidnapped by the League of Villains—personally calling and asking him that makes him hesitate before answering.

"Fine," he finally says, already thinking about how he's gonna tell Shitty Hair— Kirishima! he hears Mina correcting him in his head— that he might be out of commission for a few days. "What do you need me to do."

"Just show up when I tell you to," Aizawa says in response. "Maintain a high level of secrecy. Don't tell anyone where you're going. I'll send you the address. See you soon."

Aizawa hangs up before Bakugo can respond, and he mutters a series of curse words under his breath before tossing his phone into his duffel bag and leaving for his agency.

Three days later, Aizawa sends him an encrypted text.

Aizawa's text leads Bakugo to a fancy looking apartment complex close to Izuku's agency. When he knocks on the door of the apartment number provided, he's met with none other than Izuku himself.

"What are you doing here, you fucking nerd?" Bakugo asks, his words harsh and biting as he pushes past him and into the apartment.

"I invited him," Aizawa replies tiredly, trying to stop the fighting before it can begin. "This apartment and the other safe house are in the area that falls under his patrol route, so I thought it'd be a good idea to keep him in the loop."

"You're already pulling one of Japan's finest heroes off the streets for this stupid case, is it really necessary to get another involved?"

Bakugo turns when he hears someone new speak, his eyes narrowing when they land on you and an angry looking woman tapping away on her phone.

He knows who you are, used to seeing your pretty face plastered on advertisements and magazines throughout the country. You're a well known singer who dabbles in acting, someone he's tired of hearing about from the group of idiots he calls his friends. An irritated huff escapes his lips and he finds himself thinking about all the times he protected celebrities when he was still a new hero on the scene, and how they turned out to be nothing more than spoiled brats.

"You and Anya both know this case isn't stupid," Aizawa says patiently, shooting you an unreadable look. Bakugo waits to see how you react, studying you as you exchange a look with the other woman— Anya— and pull the blanket on your lap closer to you. Aizawa ignores the two of you, instead choosing to take the time to remind you, and reveal to the other heroes, what exactly he has called them there for. "There is a stalker out there following your each and every move. Do you understand that? And they've already proven that they will stop at nothing to get to you."

"I know," you say softly, your eyes never leaving Aizawa's. "But I can take care of myself. C'mon, you trained me yourself."

There's a moment of silence, and Bakugo thinks that Aizawa might give in. He's wrong.

"No. Hizashi and I have already decided that Bakugo will be keeping an eye on you for the forseeable future and he has agreed to do it. And Midoriya has agreed to keep an eye out during his patrols as well."

Bakugo waits for it. He braces himself and waits for the pettiness and childishness that he's seen displayed by other big names when they don't get what they want. He waits for the yelling, the waterworks, maybe even the sight of you throwing something at Aizawa. But it never comes.

Instead, you nod and stand before turning to face him, letting him catch a glimpse of the frown on your lips and defeat in your eyes before you bow deeply.

"I apologize for the inconvenience."

"O-oh! No, please don't bow," Izuku immediately says, waving his hands in an attempt to grab your attention. "That's not nec—"

"Don't gimme that shit," Bakugo interrupts, crossing his arms. His comment earns him a strangled noise from Izuku, but his gaze doesn't leave you. "Stand the fuck up and tell me whatever else I need to know."

He thinks he sees you biting back an amused smile at his words, but you quickly school your features before you let yourself fall back onto the couch. Aizawa lets himself settle into the seat next to you, a smile ghosting his lips when you reach for a mug of coffee on the table and hand it to him.

"It started a year ago," Aizawa begins. Anya walks around the couch, picking up a thick folder from the table and handing it to Bakugo. He starts looking through it, eyes scanning every individual item before passing it to Izuku. There's letters of varying lengths and pictures of you from all angles, accompanied by the occasional police evidence photo of what he assumes to be gifts you've received.

"I would receive sporadic letters, at first," you add, your voice tired and quiet. "We thought it was regular fanmail, y'know? But then things started getting weird. They would mention specific things that I'd do on my days off, or ask what I was making with the groceries I had delivered to my door on a certain day. They never signed them but the police confirmed that the handwriting matched, so we know it's one person."

"We assume it's one person," Anya corrects, earning a tired sigh from Aizawa. "We don't really know anything about them."

Her words cause you to furrow your brow, and you sigh softly before looking back up at the Pros. Bakugo's eyebrow raises when he comes across a hospital record for a Yamamoto Anya, and he angles it slightly to show Izuku.

"You were in the hospital?" Izuku asks softly, green eyes scanning the report before turning to face the two of you. Anya nods firmly but remains silent, crossing her arms before perching on the arm rest of the couch next to you.

"Anya's my manager, and my best friend," you explain, clasping your hands together. "As I said earlier, at first the incidents were sporadic. Then we went to the police to ask them to investigate. We don't know how, but the stalker found out and things started getting weirder. There were anonymous gifts being received to the apartment I have under a different name and I was receiving texts from an untraceable number. We still don't know who the target was, but the night of the Tokyo Music Awards, there was an attack."

"Wasn't that last week?" Izuku asks, looking through the file to find the corresponding police report. "It was all over the news. They said that some small time villain had attacked but that there had been enough Pros working security for the event and that it had been taken care of without issue."

"That's what we told them to say," Aizawa reveals. "In reality, it was targeted. We don't know if they intended to kidnap or to injure but things got out of hand and Anya was caught in the crossfire."

"The goal was probably to injure so I'd be easier to kidnap," you say, snorting in amusement when Aizawa sighs at your words.

"Who apprehended the villain?" Bakugo asks, unable to find the name on the police report.

"No one did, but I went after them," you admit. "I almost had them but they slipped into the crowd and got away. I returned to check on Anya and then Aizawa arrived and whisked me away. I've been here since."

"You were stupid enough to go after your stalker?" Bakugo growls, eyes shooting up to glare at you. You open your mouth to respond, only to get cut off by him "You trying to get fucking killed or something?"

A huff escapes his lips when he feels Izuku elbow him harshly, and the two of them turn to face you when you breathe out a laugh.

"Or something," you mutter, earning a swat to the back of the head from Anya. You grab her hand and toss it into her lap, only to turn and be met with a disappointed look from Aizawa. You wilt under his gaze, sighing in defeat and motioning for him to continue.

"The plan is to send you two to a safehouse, still within the city, while Midoriya and I investigate," Aizawa explains, pulling out a scrap of paper and handing it to Bakugo. "That's the address. Unfortunately, you can't just disappear off the face of the earth until we catch the stalker. There's still public appearances and interviews that need to be done, but you need to be hidden during these outings, Bakugo. We fear that if the stalker catches wind of the fact that we involved Pros, that might drive them to do something even more drastic."

Bakugo grunts in acknowledgement, unfurling the scrap of paper and studying the address written on it before glancing at Aizawa. "Can I show this to the nerd?"

He nods in response, and Izuku takes a moment to also memorize the address before nodding. The paper is gone within a second, a tiny, controlled explosion reducing it to ashes. Your eyebrows raise with interest at the display, and Bakugo meets your gaze with a scowl. It deepens when you don't immediately cower from his stare.

"The two of you should get going," Aizawa notes, glancing at his watch before standing and tossing a set of keys to Bakugo. You stand as well, taking a moment to stretch before plucking your cell phone from the couch cushion. You turn to Anya, giving her a smug look that makes her groan.

"You should just go ahead and cancel the rest of my appointments for the week. It would be unwise for me to go out in public before coming up with a surefire way to stay safe when out and about," your words are said a little too happily, and you nearly glow with joy when Aizawa contemplates your words before ultimately nodding in agreement. Anya gives you a scathing look, her hand tightening around her phone as you grin. "Let me know who agrees to reschedule! I hope no one's too upset."

The snicker that leaves your lips draws an unwilling smile from almost everyone in the room, and you swoop in to steal a hug from Aizawa before coming to a stop in front of the Pros. There's a bright smile on your lips that makes Izuku blush, and Bakugo scoffs audibly when you give him another bow.

"It's an honor to meet you, Deku. Thank you for doing this."

"Please! Call me Midoriya," he sputters out, cheeks still tinged pink as you turn and face Bakugo. There's a twinkle in your eye when you meet his gaze, and he feels a spark of irritation when he realizes that you don't seem to be intimidated by him.

"Well Mr. Dynamight, shall we get going?"

Bakugo's annoyance only grows when you manage to keep up with his quick strides.

No words are exchanged as you traverse the street, and Bakugo makes sure to keep an eye out as he opens the door and ushers you into the passenger seat, his hand pushing your head down roughly to keep you from smacking it on the roof of the vehicle. You slide into the car smoothly, buckling your seat belt and glancing around as you wait for Bakugo to get in. Silence engulfs the two of you once he does, and Bakugo finds himself reaching for his phone to play some music and fill the stillness. He feels a blush crawling up his neck when one of your songs plays, the new one that Kaminari insisted on listening to the other night when he drove him home after drinks.

A smirk tugs at your lips but you don't say anything about it, thankfully, and he finds a song he likes and plays it before taking off down the road. You're quietly humming along to the song he's chosen as you look out the window, and it isn't until you're halfway to your newly assigned safe house that you speak.

"I'm not, you know?"

That's the only thing you say and Bakugo makes a confused noise before he can stop himself, his hands tightening around the steering wheel in annoyance when you let out an amused laugh.

"I'm not trying to get killed," you clarify, earning a derisive snort from Bakugo in return. "I have a hero license, I was just doing what I've always been taught to do. Apprehend the villain."

Your admission catches Bakugo off guard, and he can't help but throw you a surprised look when he finally comes to a red light.

"You're a hero?" he asks, his curiosity winning him over.

"Mhm," you reply absentmindedly, still looking out the window. "Technically. I attended U.A., believe it or not, but I wasn't in the hero course. Aizawa and some other teachers trained me and he managed to pull some strings in order to have me take the licensing exam in my third year. He said it was better to have it just in case. Between us, I think he got even more overprotective after Nemuri, Midnight, passed."

Bakugo remembers attending the funeral after All for One had been defeated. It had been a deceptively happy day, sun bright and shining as the students, staff, and other heroes gathered to pay their respects to the fallen. He remembers a student standing next to Aizawa, their hand in his as he held onto what was left in the battle: her mask.

"She was my legal guardian, but she made sure to leave me under the care of someone she trusted just in case something ever happened."

And it did, goes unsaid.

Bakugo's left with more questions than before, but he refuses to give into his curiosity and actually ask. It isn't long until the two of you arrive at yet another upscale building, and hum quietly to grab his attention once more.

"Can I have your hoodie?"

"What the fuck? No!" is his immediate reply. There's an unpleasant look on his face, lips twisted up in what seems to be a cross between disgust and offense. "Why the fuck would you even ask?"

You give him an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow before holding your hand out. "Listen, call me paranoid if you want, but I think it'd be a good idea for me to hide my face as we enter the top secret safehouse."

Bakugo grumbles and curses as he slips off his sweater, pissed off at the fact that you were right. His anger only intensifies when he realizes that he didn't think about that first. You waste no time in slipping the sweater over your head, pulling the hood as far forward as it can go and slipping on a pair of sunglasses. It's only then that you slip out of the car, waiting for Bakugo to get out before heading towards the entrance.

The two of you head into the elevator, and when you reach out to press the correct button, you manage to catch a whiff of a sweet, smoky smell. You turn your head to the side as the doors close, lifting the collar to your nose to see if it came from the sweater or somewhere else.

"Are you sniffin' my fucking sweater?" Bakugo asks roughly, pulling your arm back down to your side. You let out an offended noise before wrenching out of his grasp, leaning against the wall and shooting him a withering look.

"I smelled something sweet and I was curious!" you defend yourself, tilting your head back slightly to look down at him. Bakugo feels his blood boil. "I can't believe someone like you smells so good."

"What's that supposed to mean!" he nearly yells, taking a step towards you. You don't deign to give him a response, instead slinking out from beside him when the elevator finally comes to a stop. There's no hesitation in your steps as you walk past various doors, finally coming to a stop at the end of the hallway and wiggling a key into the lock.

Bakugo trails in after you, locking the door and growling when he's met with a sweater to the face. There's an innocent smile on your face as you slip off your sunglasses, placing them down onto the coffee table before traipsing down the hallway. Bakugo starts his usual sweep around the space, making sure to send a text to Aizawa to let him know the two of you have arrived safely.

"Your bedroom is at the end of the hall," your voice calls out, earning a grunt in response. "Mine is to your left and the bathoom is across from my room. They already came and dropped our stuff off!"

Bakugo's eyes narrow when you walk back into the living room, a mass of fluff held in your arms. "What the hell is that?"

"This is Pickles!" you proclaim proudly, holding your arms out. There's a fluffy cat in your hands, and she lazily eyes Bakugo as she hangs in the air. Your smile falls when Pickles twists, jumping out from your hold and beelining towards Bakugo. "Pickles, no! I'm sorry, she's wary around strangers so I'd recommend backing away if you don't want your pants scratched."

Your words fade out towards the end of your statement, your jaw falling slack as you observe the way Pickles approaches Bakugo and proceeds to rub against him. She snakes in between his legs, meowing softly and pawing at his shoe as she waits for him to pay attention to her.

"You little attention whore," you whisper, your face twisting up in disbelief when Bakugo kneels down to pet her. He shoots you a smug smirk when she starts purring, and you feel your eye twitch when she lays down, exposing her belly. "She took forever to warm up to me. How did you do that?"

"I'm just the best," Bakugo replies cockily. "Even she knows that."

"Whatever, I'm going to take a nap. I can cook dinner later if you'd like," you say softly, reaching up to rub at your eyes.

"I can cook my own damn food," Bakugo snaps, his attention shifting to you. You breathe out a laugh.

"In that case, I think I'll turn in for the night. I'll leave my door slightly open for Pickles."

"Don't be a dumbass, you have to eat."

"I'll just get up early and cook breakfast," you shout, already disappearing from sight as you make your way to your room. "Good night Mr. Dynamight!"

"It's Bakugo," he grumbles under his breath as you duck into your room. A laugh is all he gets in response, and your room goes dark as you finally settle into bed. His attention is caught by small meow, and he sighs before picking Pickles up and petting her. She curls up against his chest, swatting at his hand and making a pleased noise when she manages to grasp it between two of her paws. He looks down at the cat, raising a brow when she decides to start gnawing on his finger.

"Just you and me hairball."

The two of you fall into an admittedly easy routine throughout the rest of the week.

Bakugo's surprised by how easy this assignment has been. He's used to stubborn celebrities demanding to be let out, complaining and whining and overall just annoying him until he snaps and curses them out. However, you're a quiet housemate, waking up early to cook breakfast for the two of you before retreating to your room for the rest of the day or lounging on the couch with Pickles. Bakugo takes it upon himself to cook dinner for the two of you, and whoever is in charge of lunch is always decided with a coin toss. He loses more often than you do.

Pickles becomes a frequent presence as well, and sometimes he wakes up to see the cat curled up peacefully on the pillow next to him. How she gets into his room, he doesn't know. When he emerges from his room in the morning with her gathered in his arms, you apologize profusely, your stare lingering on the way his lips curl up into a tiny smile when you take her from him.

You inform Bakugo early on in the week that Anya has listened to you, canceling all of your prior engagements and sending you an updated schedule for the next week. He squints when you hold your hand out, cell phone in hand as you prompt him to take it.

"Mr. Dynamight, give me your number."

"It's Bakugo," he grumbles, pushing your hand away from him. "And why the hell would I do that?"

"So I can send you the schedule," you huff, extending your arm once again. He obliges reluctantly, purposefully taking his time in an attempt to annoy you. You don't react to his provocation, instead smiling sweetly at him when he hands your phone back and sending him the file.

When you begin to send him memes, he refuses to acknowledge you for the day.

The two of you spend days successfully planning how to keep you safe during your public appearances, your combined experience making the task easier than you thought it'd be. Your first week back out in public goes well, and even though you know better than to let your guard down, the knowledge that Pro Hero Dynamight is watching you from a distance helps to soothe your nerves. Your routine remains the same for the following week, during which there is an incident, but it turns out to be an overexcited fan. You then beg and beg Anya to book less appearances until she gets fed up with your fake crying.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you hate your job," Bakugo mutters one evening while making dinner. "You keep brushing off all your stupid engagements and you won't have a fucking career to go back to."

"Good thing you know better," you say playfully, your eyes glinting with mischief as you approach him. Your arm brushes against his back as you peek around him, your hand darting out to grab a slice of the strawberries he's cutting up to eat with lunch. He's too slow to stop you, not that he really tries to.

He finds that his original irritation towards the assignment has faded, and even though he misses being out on patrol and taking down bad guys, he thinks that this mission isn't the worst. Or maybe it's because of you. It takes Bakugo weeks to admit to himself that you're not as bad as he thought you'd be. In fact, you're not anything like what he expected you to be, all sly smiles and snarky words and casual touches that he's too embarrassed to reciprocate. But he doesn't like you, no, he doesn't.

You like to think he's getting used to your presence, but his occasional aloofness makes you think otherwise. There's a part of you, the side that's trying to ignore the reason that resulted in being assigned to a safe house in the first place, that enjoys your time spent with Bakugo. You like the way he's so easy to rile up, the way he carefully plates food for both of you, and the way he smiles when Pickles demands his attention. You think that maybe, just maybe, you might like him, even if everything else about his attitude makes you think he doesn't even tolerate you.

But you're too preoccupied with your ongoing case to really sit with your thoughts and try to sort out your feelings.

Updates from Aizawa and Midoriya are few and far between, and although you and Bakugo have fallen into a comfortable routine, you can tell that he's getting fed up with the situation. His restlessness is obvious, especially with the news talking nonstop about his sudden disappearance and speculating on the reasons why Dynamight might've stopped doing his duty as a hero.

"How long do you think this will continue?" you ask one night, sneaking a peek at him and waiting for his snarky reply.

"I dunno," he responds, sounding defeated. He sighs heavily and turns the television off.

He watches as you purse your lips and reach for his hand, pausing when he instinctively pulls away. There's a brief pause before you take a deep breath and let your hand fall on the sofa. He glances at you, eyes scanning your face as you keep staring at the blank screen, and lets his head fall back and eyes fall shut as he mentally berates himself for his actions. You head off to bed soon after, and Bakugo remains there for the rest of the night.

The next morning is quieter than usual, and the two of you are eating breakfast when there's a knock on the door. You waste no time in prancing to the entrance, reaching for the doorknob before a large hand grabs your wrist.

"Don't open the fucking door," he hisses, pulling your hand down. You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head in an innocent manner.

"Why not? It's only Midoriya."

"What?"

You reach over and open the door with your other hand, only to be met with a sunny smile from none other than Pro Hero Deku.

"Kacchan!" he exclaims, brightening up even more at the sight of his childhood friend. "I'm here to swap."

"What?" Bakugo bites out again. Midoriya's smile falters.

"Uh, swap. Places, I mean," he explains, smiling when he looks back at you. "I thought you said he asked?"

"Asked what?" Bakugo growls, his hand tighetning slightly around your arm.

"Yeah! He did," you respond just as cheerily. Bakugo goes ignored.

"Hey! Listen to me when I fucking talk to ya!"

"Come on in, we were just eating breakfast. Would you like any?" you ask. Midoriya shakes his head and you promptly wiggle your arm out of Bakugo's grasp and usher them into the living room.

"What is the shitty nerd doing here?" Bakugo yells, fed up with the situation.

"He's here to take your spot! Remember, Mr. Dynamight ?"

"I already told you, it's Bakugo," he snarls, eyes narrowing as they fall onto you. Your smile is unfaltering and equally as sunny as Izuku's was when he first arrived. He spares a glace at the other Pro Hero in the room, taking note of the way he nervously wrings his hands as he studies the two of you. He doesn't excuse himself before taking ahold of your arm once again, dragging you down the hallway and into his room before slamming the door.

You take a moment to glance around his room, your eyes narrowing when you spot Pickles curled up on his bed, before finally meeting his eyes. There's a fire in his eyes that you've only seen before when he's mid-battle, reserved for situations where his anger is at an all time high. You meet his gaze evenly, and he seems to calm down slightly when make a questioning noise.

"What the fuck was all that about?" he asks harshly, his voice low in order to not be overheard. The walls are thin, he knows this.

"I thought you'd like to return to your hero duties," you say coolly. "Y'know, patrolling and beating up baddies."

"Listen, when I agree to a job I don't plan on doing it half-assed," he retorts. He wonders if your sudden encouragement for him to leave has to do with his actions night before… and the rest of the week. He knows it does. "You're stuck with me, sweetheart, whether you like it or not. So get out there and tell Deku that you changed your mind and that I'll be seeing this task until the very end."

You don't move for a few seconds, and Bakugo's eyebrows furrow in confusion until he realizes the way you bashfully averted your gaze at the nickname. The corner of his lip tugs up into a smirk, but he doesn't get the chance to comment on it before you start speaking.

"Your reputation and ranking are tanking because of this and it's not very fair to you. Besides, nothing has happened in weeks. No letters, no gifts, no suspicious activity. I'm sure it'd be fine to switch spots with Midoriya for a couple of days. And I thought you were getting a little tired of staying in here all day. Maybe getting out and seeing your friends would do you some good."

Bakugo takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. "I already told you, I'm not leaving you until this assignment is done. Go out there, and tell Deku you changed your fucking mind."

"Yeah, about that," you say, your tone of voice causing Bakugo's eyes to fly open. There's impish smile on your face, and Bakugo feels a sense of foreboding as you speak your next words. "I might've told him that you requested the swap. So really, it's you that has to go out there and tell him you changed your mind."

You laugh and head back to the living room before Bakugo can yell at you, smiling softly at Midoriya before heading to the kitchen to clean up the abandoned plates.

Bakugo groans and begrudgingly heads to the living room, dragging Izuku by his collar and leading him to the front door.

He shuts the door in his face and provides no explanation.

Things are different after that.

Bakugo makes a bigger effort to interact with you, spending move evenings by your side instead of keeping his distance. Slowly but surely you begin to notice, and you can't help but wonder if this has anything to do with your discussion in his room the previous week.

You try not to show that you're flustered when the two of you begin to cook together instead of taking turns, and you have to admit that sharing the kitchen with Bakugo is intimate in a way you never knew cooking with somebody else could be. His movements are always fluid, never hesitant, and you find that you fall into a groove when you work alongside him.

The space is full of teasing and grumbling as well, and you find that fleeting touches between the two of you start to become more common. There's the occassional hip check when he tries to steal a piece of whatever you're chopping, and the occasional hand skimming your lower back when he tries to get past you in order to reach something. You tend to go rigid under his touch, and Bakugo finds that he starts doing it a little more often in order to hear the way your breath hitches when his fingertips skim over your shirt. He's thinks he likes you.

You’ve had the time to sit with your feelings, all the swirling uncertainty and aching that you feel weighing down on your heart when you see Bakugo present you with a new dish or scoop Pickles up when she won't stop pawing at his leg. Bakugo Katsuki is so perfectly imperfect, and you think that there's no one in the world who is privileged enough to get to see every single side of him that he has unintentionally and intentionally bared for you to see in your short time living together. You find that it is much easier to come to the conclusion that yes, you do like him. You think you might even love him.

You don't get the chance to wonder if he likes you as well before it all goes to hell.

It's a few days later, on a sunny Wednesday, that you finally come face to face with your stalker.

"Alright, you have one more meeting after this and then we can get you back home," Anya says, hurrying you you of the building you were in and towards the car. You mumble something under your breath, holding your sweater tightly to your body to protect yourself against the afternoon chill. Anya stops by your side when you stumble to a halt, and you quickly grab onto her when you hear something approaching quickly. "What's going on?"

You waste no time in pulling her back, something— someone, you vaguely think— crashing into the spot where you had just been standing.

"What the fuck?" Anya whispers, taking in the sight before you. There's a man standing in front of you, close to your age and surrounding by dark tendrils. His sharp, green eyes slide from Anya to you, and he breaks out into a smile before taking a step forward. Anya places herself in front of you, blocking you from his view and earning a harsh glare from the man. "Get the hell away from us."

You quickly scan your surroundings for any sign of Bakugo, and even though you know he's close by, you can't help but feel a little anxious when he doesn't immediately show up. A movement in your peripheral catches your attention, and you tighten your hold on Anya and dive out of the way before one of the dark tendrils shoots out and incapacitates her. The two of you crash into the side of the car, and you waste no time in opening the door and shoving her inside.

"Stay there!" you tell her, motioning for her to stop trying to open the door.

"No!" she argues, her shouts muffled by the window. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just trust me," you say reassuringly. Anya hesitates before nodding, her hands falling to her side.

"Stay safe. You better not get fucking hurt!"

You nod once, taking a glance to see your stalker getting closer before you take off in a sprint in the direction you know Bakugo is. You whip your phone out, sending quick 'SOS' to Aizawa before turning a corner. You don't bother sending your location, knowing he's probably been tracking you for years.

The sound of footsteps following you only spurs you on, and you try to think of a game plan to deal with the situation in a safe manner before you feel something wrap around your wrist. You come to a sudden stop when the tendril pulls you back, and you let out a cry when you stumble and fall to the ground, your knees knocking harshly against the concrete.

"I've been looking for you for so long," the man breathes, kneeling down to take your hand in his. You resist the urge to tear it away from him, conscious of the way the tendril seems to loosen when you relax. "I finally found you, we can finally be together."

You take a moment to study him, trying to gather your thoughts before responding. Your voice is light as you speak, and you lean forwards slightly in an attempt to make it seem like you're giving in. "We can. But you're hurting me, you know? You're quite strong, I can't believe I didn't realize it soon."

He takes the bait, retracting the tendril and almost glowing at the words that leave your lips. His lips part to respond and you waste no time in head butting him hard enough to send him sprawling. You hop to your feet, stumbling briefly when your bruised knees almost give out, but you manage to keep your balance and dodge the tendril your stalker attacks with.

"You bitch!" he screams, earning an eye roll from you as he tries to grab ahold of you once more. "I don't know why you're doing this when it's clear we're meant to be together!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say under your breath, lunging forwards to land a hit. He defends poorly, and you think that his strange obsession with you has come in handy when he refuses to strike back in fear of hurting you.

When Bakugo lands on the sidewalk in front of you mere seconds later, he's met with the sight of your stalker face down on the ground, unconscious and with hands creatively tied behind his back with your sweater as you stare at him smugly. A tired laugh leaves Bakugo's lips and he wastes no time in removing the sweater, slapping on a pair of quirk canceling handcuff onto your stalker and moving to lean him up against the building behind you.

"Took you long enough," you chirp, earning a glare from Bakugo.

"I can't believe you were stupid enough to go after your stalker," he states, his words reminiscent of the ones he said when he first met you. "Actually, scratch that. Yeah, I fucking can."

"Well it's not like you were doing anything," you retort, crossing your arms. "Where were you?"

"I had it under control," he barks, motioning to the area around you. You take note of Midoriya standing on a rooftop, a couple of detectives scattered down the street as they wait for Bakugo's all clear.

"Oh!"

"What happened here?"

You turn when you see Aizawa approaching, eyes tired but alert as they scan you for injuries. You beam at him, pointing towards the unsconscious criminal before gesturing to yourself to show that you're fine, other than your bruised knees. "See! I told you I could handle myself."

"Yes, I suppose you did," is all he says before turning to Bakugo. He's caught off guard when Aizawa bows deeply. "I'm eternally thankful, Bakugo. You did a great job, even if it turned out we didn't need your help after all."

The last statement is said mockingly, and you pout when Aizawa shoots you a pointed look. You ignore it in favor of turning to Bakugo, bowing as well.

"I already told you, don't gimme that shit," he spits out, crossing his arms when you straighten up and give him a shit-eating grin.

"I just wanted to give you my thanks," you say, a teasing lilt to your voice as you take a step forward. Aizawa grunts before walking away, shaking his head as he goes. "Although I suppose that there are other—"

"You're safe!"

Anya's screams interrupt you, and you give Bakugo an apologetic look as she pulls you away, fussing over you and bending down to clean off your knees. You smile fondly as she shoves a water bottle into your hand, stealing one last glance at Bakugo before he's whisked away by the detectives to make a statement.

A week passes and Bakugo hasn't stopped thinking about you.

He wonders how often he'd get to see you now that he's not watching over you, grimacing when he realizes that he'd probably only see you at hero galas and community fundraisers that might overlap with both of your schedules. The two of you have exchanged a few messages since the mission ended, lot of memes being sent from your end that make Bakugo laugh, not that he'd ever admit it.

He's wondering if he should build up the courage to be more direct with you, to possibly follow up on how you could thank him and then ask you out on a date when he hears a knock on his door.

"Hey!" you greet him when he opens the door, bright smile on your face as you shove a bag into his hands. "I hope you don't mind but I got your address form Aizawa. I was thinking I could cook you dinner, you know, as a thank you."

His jaw is hanging as he takes you in, and you snicker when he doesn't respond.

"Hey, what's wrong? Pickles got your tongue?" you laugh at your own joke, and Bekugo snaps his jaw shut at the words, ushering you in and shutting the door behind you.

"That was a shitty joke."

"Eh, can't expect everyone to get my sense of humor."

He shakes his head fondly as he follows you into his kitchen, and you take the bag you previously pushed into his arms and place it on the counter. You look at him expectantly raising an eyebrow teasingly as he takes a step closer.

"So this dinner,” he starts, tone casual as he drinks you in. “Is it a date?"

"Do you want it to be?" you respond. Your voice is quiet and light, and he finds himself crowding you against the counter, arms on either side of you as he cages you in. You're vaguely reminded of the time the two of you argued in his room at the safe house, the only difference being the look in his eyes. Where there was anger that day, this time you see nothing but an unfamiliar tenderness, eyes warm as he mulls his answer over.

"Yeah," he says roughly, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you look at him in mild surprise. "I do want it to be."

“I didn’t think you’d admit it,” you retort. The smile he receives in return is almost blinding, but he feels that familiar sense of foreboding when you suddenly give him a coy look and wrap your arms around his neck.

"So... does this mean I'm... Mrs. Dynamight?" you ask innocently.

"Shut the fuck up," he groans before finally leaning down to silence your giggles with a kiss.

ty for reading <3

[bisexualiteaa]

Crazy For You

Silco X Fem Reader (SMUT!!!)

Synopsis: You’ve been with Silco for quite some time now, but in that time there was one little fact he hadn’t known about you yet.

CW: MDNI! Established relationship, age difference, power dynamic, cursing, brief mention of needle, no use of y/n, mention of smoking/cigars, first time, vírgín reader, female anatomy, fïngering, 0ral (fem recieving) p in v, unprotected seggs, cream 🥧, c0rruption kǐnk, sunshine x grump dynamic, possible OOC Silco, possible grammar/spelling errors, proofread

AN: Arcane has come around again and placed me in an absolute CHOKEHOLD AGAIN. But it got me out of a writers block rut so I’ll take it as a win! I do hope you all enjoy! ♥️

You smiled genuinely at Sevika as you made your way into The Last Drop, offering her a shy wave as you made your way to his office. Before you could even speak, she offered you the answer to your yet-spoken question. “He’s in his office, just finished up a meeting” she answered gruffly, to which you nodded your head in acknowledgment. “Thank you” you replied kindly before entering his office, not catching the look in her eyes as you turned your back and entered. She would never understand why he’d taken such a liking to you, in her eyes you were naive, weak. Nothing more than a distraction during a time of stress, where distractions were far from what was needed. Not to mention he was at the very least, twice your age, and that fact alone gave her a bad taste in her mouth. Yet she knew better than to speak on these thoughts, so she kept her comments to herself. However, that never stopped her from giving you looks behind your back when you’d come to see him, or scrunching her nose when she would spot you two together. You weren’t ignorant to this, but you knew better than to challenge her over something so trivial, taking the glares and moving along.

Upon your arrival, you were immediately hit with the heavy waft of smoke clinging to the air, the familiar scent of his cigars that he often smoked when he was stressed filling your nostrils. You closed the door quietly behind you, not wishing to startle him should his mind be in a busy place, instead opting to walk further inside to quietly stand near him at his desk. As you treaded closer, you found his lithe figure leaned back in his chair, eyes glued upwards towards the ceiling, arm raised and taking a hefty drag off of the cigar between his fingers before lowering it. You watched as the smoke billowed from his mouth momentarily as his jaw hung open some before blowing it into the air, forming a neat ring that mimicked the shape of his lips as he exhaled. You’d wondered for a moment if he’d even heard you enter his space, normally receiving some sort of sound of acknowledgement or gesture when you did, but you knew better than to assume that Silco was ignorant to anything that goes on around him, especially in his own office. So you decided to speak up instead.

“Long day?” You asked with sympathy in your tone, your soft, sweet voice something so foreign in The Last Drop. Or perhaps something rare in Zaun all together. You watched as he closed his good eye, giving a groan in response as he rubbed his temple with his free hand, telling you all the things that couldn’t be properly put into words. You saw the syringe sitting on his desk, telling you he’d yet to give himself a dosage due to the headache likely ebbing behind his eyes. “The longest” he finally replied, his voice almost nothing more than a tired rasp. He opened his eye to watch as you made your way over to him, sitting on a portion of his desk that wasn’t being occupied by papers or anything else of importance. You reached your hand out to caress his cheek before softly running your fingers through his hair, tucking away any strays that had fallen away from his neat, slicked back style. A loving gesture that didn’t go unappreciated, earning a heavy sigh from him as he leaned into your touch. “So much stress, so much weight on one man’s shoulders alone…I only wish there was more I could do” you said, looking upon him somberly to see so much tension, to see the lines beginning to run deep beneath his eyes, the sleepless nights beginning to take their toll. You knew well that he would never allow you to partake in any dealings with his business, that he strictly keeps you and his work separate for the sake of your wellbeing. However it didn’t stop you from sympathizing with the fact that he carried a lot of stress because of it.

“There is plenty you do for me” he stated, snuffing out his cigar in the ashtray on his desk before prepping the syringe for his eye, placing it in your hands. You never enjoyed having to do this, knowing it was painful for him but you knew it was something that had to be done. You were honored to be the one that he trusted enough to do it however. You moved to the edge of the desk, your hand cradling his cheek as he leaned back before bringing it to his eye and injecting it. You pulled the needle away as he grunted in pain, slumping forward in his chair as a single, purple tear streamed down his cheek. Your other hand came to the scarred side of his face with the intent of using your thumb to wipe it away. Before you could, his larger hand came to your wrist as a reflex, gripping it tightly but you didn’t waver, smiling at him softly in reassurance as you gently wiped it away for him, showing him softness he often felt he didn’t deserve. He relaxed as you did, the aspect of your tenderness in such a rough place as Zaun was something he was still getting used to. He often wondered what he did to have caught your heart. Why you, someone so sweet, so gentle, so kind would choose to tangle yourself with such a hardened man as himself. Perhaps there was something of a truth to be said about the saying “opposites attract.” Your softness brought him solace on the days where the stress ate away at him, your kindness such a difference from the majority of the undercity. It was refreshing.

You both sat there in his office, a comfortable silence falling over you as you rested your head against the plush backing of his chair, enjoying the intimacy of being close to him, even in silence. Your faces hovered closely together still as tension hung thick in the air, thicker even than the smoke still lingering from his snuffed out cigar. Moonlight funneled in through the large window, its pale rays reflecting in his eyes as he looked upon you, trying to calculate what your next move was going to be. You weren’t exactly sure what spurred the moment on, whether it was the fact that you’d missed sharing intimate moments like this with him the past few weeks due to all his work, or perhaps something deeper, but you leaned in to close the distance. “Perhaps I could help somehow” you suggested, voice no louder than a whisper.

To his surprise, your lips captured his in a sweet kiss, one that held passion in it, feeling in it as opposed to the fleeting kiss of someone purely acting on desire. Your hand lay flatly against his chest as you initiated the moment, fingers dancing along the fabric of his tie as your lips worked against his. His hand came up to cup your cheek tenderly as you kissed him, lips chasing yours hungrily, stealing the very air from your lungs. The taste of tobacco and smoke lay heavy on his lips, combining into a taste that was so very him. You felt his free hand settle gently on your hip with a soft groan, holding you close to him, grounding himself and allowing all else to leave his mind for a moment as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, an attempt in deepening the kiss. When his ministrations were met with a teasing giggle that bubbled delightfully from your throat, and your resistance in parting your lips, he gave a breathy chuckle upon looking at you. “Playing that game, are we?” Silco asked, making you grin before he chased your lips once more, this time his teeth caught your bottom lip, giving it a playful nip. You gasped softly as he did, allowing his tongue the chance to tangle with yours, fighting in a battle for dominance that he of course, won. A soft moan left you as his fingers dug into the fabric that clung to your hips, gripping your plush flesh nearly bruisingly tight as yours found purchase in his neatly done hair, hearing him groan into you once more. The gloss on your lips, the sweet taste of whatever drink you’d had before coming here, it all contrasted him so starkly. You were gods damn addicting. No drug, not even shimmer could compare to the taste of you on his lips, the feel of your softness against his own skin. The sounds of your sweet voice, beautiful laugh and melodic moans. Everything about you was tooth-rottingly sweet, contrasting his harshness perfectly.

When he pulled away finally, allowing the both of you a chance to breathe, he couldn’t deny the sight before him was absolutely divine. Seeing your pupils blown wide with lust, looking to him with that twinkle in them that spelled mischief mixed with love in a way only you could ever provide. Your plush, kiss swollen lips now shining slightly with your swapped saliva as your chest rose and fell with each staggering breath to fill your lungs with much needed air. This was all new between you. Sure you’ve shared kisses before, that wasn’t new, but that look in your eyes, that tone that dripped with seduction like honey, those were new and it most certainly caught his interest. His hand came to grip your chin, fingers resting below it, tilting your gaze up to look him in the eyes as his thumb grazed your bottom lip. “Such a sweet thing you are, my darling” he spoke, making you flush at his words and your heart flutter at the term of endearment. “All for you, Silco” you replied genuinely, making him chuckle as he leaned forward to lay kisses along your throat, treading carefully yet curiously. He watched as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, seeming to enjoy the feeling judging by the sighs of pleasure leaving you and taking the tilt of your head back as a show of your consent for him to continue, allowing him more room to explore your sensitive skin. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly, doing your best to hold yourself up as you bit your lip in attempts to keep yourself quiet. However you couldn’t help but let a worry that weighed heavy on your mind begin to eat away at you as you realized where this was heading, something you’d yet to tell him. Something he needed to know should things between you both continue. “Sil, can I…can I tell you something? I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now but never figured out a good way in bringing it up” You explained cautiously as you peeked your eyes open, your voice holding much trepidation in it despite the sweet sighs leaving you as his lips found and abused the sensitive spot between your shoulder and neck.

You watched him pull away, looking at you with interest as you nervously fumbled with the fabric of your shirt beneath his intense gaze. He waited patiently for what you had to say, a brow raised with intrigue. “I haven’t…I- I’ve never…” you tried spitting it out, fumbling over your words trying to find the right way to say it but no matter how you tried to word it, the idea of actually telling him put your stomach in knots, terrified of his reaction potentially being negative. You felt ashamed almost, scared that your inexperience would potentially scare him away, but he needed to know. “I‘ve never been with someone…intimately” you finally admitted, a blush burning along your cheeks as you finally said it, making a flash of surprise raise to his eyes as he looked at you before a grin stretched to his lips. You waited for a sigh to escape his lips in annoyance, or for him to reject you upon learning this fact. Yet none of that ever came. No, instead that lustful look in his gaze still remained, only now it was clouded with a sort of darkness that you couldn’t quite place.

“Is that so?” He asked, making you shake your head yes nervously in response, finding it hard to hold his gaze out of embarrassment. “I understand if that makes you not want this anymore…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier” you spoke meekly, looking up at him with those doe eyes that made him so very weak. He looked to you before smiling softly, caressing your cheek tenderly in reassurance. The sweet gesture contrasting all the dirty thoughts running through his mind now at your admission, ideas of tainting your innocence, adding a poison to your sweetness. Ideas of corrupting you just enough to find out what really lies beneath that sugary sweet exterior. It was driving him wild. “Sweet girl, that doesn’t make me want you any less. Quite the opposite in fact” Silco responded, making your shoulders slack with relief, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest as you returned his smile. “Did you tell me that because you’d like for this to escalate?” He asked, his large hand that was once resting at your hip, now dragging down to rest against your thigh, so close yet so far from where you needed it the most. You looked down to see his hand there, splayed against your plush thigh, admiring how big it was against you. It left you wondering just how good it would feel gripping you, touching your bare skin, absolutely ruining you even before looking up at him. The look in your eyes as you did stirred a fire within him. “Yes. Want you to ruin me, please” you begged, making him groan at the thought. “Ruin you?” He asked curiously, his voice a bit deeper now, the rasp in his voice only fueling the fire stoking within your core. “Be careful what you ask for sweetheart, you might just get it” he finished, making you look at him with a grin, telling him that his warning wasn’t taken as an air of caution but rather as a challenge. “I’m a big girl Sil, I can take it” you answered boldly, showing him a side of you that he’s never seen. Now he really needed to know what lay beneath your surface. “Want you to show me, wanna make you feel good” you added, unaware of just how far you were pushing his self-restraint.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours again, only this time with less sweetness to it and more hunger, kissing you with a fiery passion that was ignited by desire festering within him. You moaned into it as his hands scoured your body, hands mapping out your soft skin as they made their way to your breasts that lay exposed to the cold air of his office. Your shirt and bra were long discarded at this point, lying on the ground beside his desk in a haphazard pile, completely forgotten as he flitted between massaging your tits in his hands and his fingers toying with your nipples. Your blissful sighs and sweet moans allowed his tongue to bully its way into your mouth, fighting in a battle once again for dominance that you were all too happy to let him win. Your hands once again found purchase in his hair, carding through his dark locks as his hands continued their descent. You gasped into it as his hand came down to cup your clothed cunt, a quiet whine leaving you as you rocked your hips against his unmoving hand, yearning for any kind of friction or stimulation to soothe your throbbing clit. He gave a dark chuckle at your show of desperation for him as he laid you on your back on his desk, caring not for the papers that scattered around as he swiped them out of the way. You watched as he broke the kiss to stand, leaving you to reach out for him as he looked you over in this state. “Patience, darling. You’ll get what you asked for” he assured, making you bite your lip with anticipation as you watched him discard his coat, leaving it to sit on his chair before returning to you. His gaze was hungry, ravenous even as he looked you up and down before his fingers found the button of your pants. “Y-You want to do this here?” You asked meekly, heart slamming in your chest as you watched him undo the button of your pants with ease before reaching for the zipper. “You said you wanted me to ruin you, did you not?” He asked, knowing well that he did not mistake your words, but paused to ensure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries. “Yes but…I figured you’d rather continue at home. What if someone hears?” You asked, head hanging over the other side, looking to the door to check and make sure that no one had tested the handle or tried to come in. His cock throbbed at the sight, thinking of taking you just like that. How your breasts would bounce with each harsh thrust of his hips, your body writhing in pleasure as he used you. It wasn’t a bad thought, but maybe one for another time, this was your first time and he didn’t want to hurt you. Not too badly, anyway. “Then let them hear as I ruin you, otherwise you’ll just have to keep quiet, won’t you?” He asked as he worked your zipper down, fingers stopping at the waistband as he looked down at you to ensure your consent. “W-What if someone sees?” You asked making him give you a crooked grin. Now there’s a thought, but again, for another time. “Then let them see” he replied confidently, leaning down to speak into your ear before coming up enough to look at your reaction. The mere thought sent a shiver coursing down your spine, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Silco.

“Oh? But perhaps that thought doesn’t bother you as much as you let on, now does it?” he asked in a more condescending tone, making you flush darker as he grinned wider, knowing the answer just from that wild look of excitement in your eyes. It was then that he removed your pants, finally pulling the offending fabric down and off of you, tossing them to the side with the rest of your clothes. You felt so exposed, the cold air bringing attention to the dampness in your panties. “You like that thought, don’t you? The thought of someone hearing as I ruin you? Or someone walking in to see you bent over my desk, hmm? Dirty girl, I knew there was something in there deep down that was naughty” he said, leaning in closer to you before whispering in your ear. “Show me more” he said, his lips trailing down your neck as his fingers dipped past the waistband of your panties to toy with your sopping wet cunt. You moaned as you felt his skilled fingers begin to circle your clit, eyes fluttering shut in bliss as he sucked a hickey into your soft skin. Gods how he loved the sound of you, each moan, each sigh, each gasp, they all went straight to his cock that sat hard beneath his pants, throbbing with need. But Silco was a patient man, he knew his pleasure would come soon enough, he needed to discover more of you first. “Go on, let them hear you. Let me hear you” he spoke against you as his mouth descended lower, trailing past your collarbone before dipping to take one of your nipples in his mouth as he worked you with his nimble fingers. “Gods above, Silco…!” You moaned, no longer caring for how loud your voice was, no longer pretending to care if anyone were to walk in or to hear you. It simply felt too good to care anymore.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he sucked one of your pert buds between his lips, nipping at your sensitive skin before laving his tongue soothingly over his bitemarks. You were thankful you’d come here in a shirt that covered well, because it didn’t take long for bruises and bitemarks to blossom along your chest, neck and collarbones. Though part of you didn’t mind the thought of them being seen, a show of marking what was his, claiming his territory for anyone that dared come too close. Dared to question. You watched with earnest as he continued to trail his lips downward, his eyes locking onto yours as he scattered searing kisses along your stomach, below your naval before kneeling between your legs. The sight sent a pleasant tingle to your core, but the embarrassment of being so exposed for the first time to someone like this made you cover your eyes with your arm as you let out a pathetic whimper.

“You’ve never had someone pleasure you like this either, have you?” He asked blatantly, making you shake your head no in response, knowing well that your voice would betray you should you try to speak. “Would you like me to show you?” He asked, making you move your arm a little to peek at him as he settled one of your legs over his shoulder, still working you with the fingers of his right hand as he looked at you expectantly. His left hand glided up your outer thigh, coming to rest on your hip, massaging your skin and occasionally dipping to grope your rear. “Y-Yes, please. Show me” you pleaded, making him hum in response as he littered kisses along the insides of your thighs, trailing up to the apex between, just barely ghosting past where you needed him most before continuing his work on the other side. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, working you up, teasing you, toying with you. Silco was a man of many things, patience, skill, power, but fairness? Fairness was a line he treaded very thinly, even in an intimate setting. Yet that anticipation was exactly what made it feel so good when his lips finally did reach your clit, replacing his fingers that were now working to split you open.

You moaned even louder as he did so, skilled tongue abusing your aching clit as his fingers eased their way into you, working you open on one before sliding in another. Your hands sought purchase on his head once more, nails grazing his scalp as he wrapped his lips around your pulsing bundle of nerves, sucking on it. Your back arched from his desk, mouth open in an O shape as a moan left you in both surprise and pleasure at the intense feeling. “Shit, Silco…fuck, feels so good, please don’t stop” you begged, both feeling and hearing him groan into you at your taste and the sight of your squirming body writhing on his desk as he ate you like a man starved. You could hear the squelch of his fingers as they moved in and out of you, paired with the faint flutter of his tongue. It was sinful, the cacophony of sounds coming from between your legs, but all it did was spur you on. A burning tightness began to set in your lower belly, like a coil winding tighter and tighter the longer he focused on your cunt, you felt your body begin to run hot, signaling that your orgasm wasn’t very far. Your hips moved against his tongue, fucking yourself on his fingers as they rubbed against your walls, curling in a come hither motion to find that sweet spot deep inside that had you seeing stars. It was so much at once, all so new, so foreign, but so good. It embarrassed you a little with how fast your orgasm came to you, washing over you like a tidal wave, leaving your head to fall back off the side of the desk as your hand held his head in place. The sight of you, keening from his desk, head hanging over the edge as you came on his fingers and tongue felt as if it were a scene straight from a wet dream.

When the last wave of pleasure finally came over you, he stopped his movements against you, not wanting to overstimulate you. At least, not quite yet. You watched as he stood back up, working at his pants to finally free himself from its confines. You couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like beneath it all, how big he’d be, your curiosity was killing you. Thankfully you wouldn’t have to wait very much longer. You shot him a pleasure drunken, half-lidded smile, sitting up half way to watch him pull himself free from his pants, enjoying the sight of him in front of you, flushed and hard. When he finally rid himself of his pants, you couldn’t help but admire the way it tapped against his lower stomach once freed, beads of precum leaking prettily from the tip. Your jaw slacked visibly upon the sight, a small smile working its way to the corners as you stared. Clearly you were pleased with the sight, which put his heart at ease. His confidence hadn’t wavered for a moment however, so you would’ve never guessed he was worried about what you’d think.

His fingers came to your chin once more, tilting your gaze up to look him in the eye, a crooked grin resting once again on his lips. “My eyes are up here, love” he said teasingly, making you flush at his dominant tone as he caught you ogling. “R-Right, sorry” you replied, making him chuckle. “Don’t be, I’m enjoying this side of you” he replied, making you smile up at him with relief. “Are you sure you’re ready for what’s to come next, darling?” He asked sweetly, ensuring you were still okay with what was about to transpire, leaving you room to speak up if you wished not to continue. While he might do things a little rough, he still cared about you, wanting to ensure you were comfortable, that this was truly what you wanted. “Yes, I’m ready. Please” you replied breathlessly, both anxious and excited as you smiled softly up at him, trusting him fully with this. “I’m glad it’s you” you finished.

You gasped as you felt him begin to push into you, the feeling akin to when his fingers were inside of you, but this stretch had more of a burn to it. His fingers didn’t have the width that his length had, leaving you feeling as if you were being split open. He worked himself into you as slowly as he could, allowing you the chance to acclimate to his size and the overall intrusion. You gripped his arm tightly, face scrunched up in pain, doing your best to breathe through it as he continued to slowly push inside. “Doing so well for me, taking all of me like this. You’re doing wonderful” he assured, watching as a single tear shed and slipped down your cheek once he was fully sheathed inside you, bringing his thumb to swipe it away like you did for him earlier. “It’s okay love, take your time. You feel so good wrapped around me like this” he complimented, trying his hardest to remain still within you as you got used to the intrusion. Silco leaned down to capture your lips in a tender kiss, allowing your mind the distraction from the pain as it finally began to ebb away, instead beginning to feel him throbbing from within you in excitement. You sighed into it as your body finally began to relax, your tense muscles unclenching as you melted into the kiss. Your hips moved against his, giving him the sign that you were ready for him to test a thrust. You both moaned in unison as he moved, the drag of his heavy cock pulling out some before thrusting back in had you seeing stars as you clung to him. He looked down at the space where your bodies were conjoined, watching himself pull out of you, then disappear within you, practically spearing you with his length. The sight was absolutely heavenly, but watching your body jolt with his thrusts, moans spilling from you as he reached deep inside of you was an even better sight. “Oh fuck, Sil…” you let out between breathless moans as he set a steady pace, his hips smacking against the back of your thighs rhythmically, making the sound of skin against skin ring through the room paired with your shared moans and the faint creaking of his desk beneath you. “Feel you so deep, feels so good” you let out, listening to him groan and whisper strings of curses by your ear as he fucked into you, his tip bullying the apex to your cervix with each thrust. “Thats it, take it. Take it all. Gods…you’re perfect” he spoke, resting his forehead against yours as your hands cupped his face, both of your eyes shut in bliss as you took in the moment. It was intimate in a way he struggled to convey, but he did his best to try for you. With you, what once felt so foreign felt as if it was getting easier and easier as the days passed. Perhaps you weren’t his weakness like everyone around him thought, like *he* once thought, but instead his strength. His strength to trust in compassion, in tenderness, to allow the icy walls around his heart to melt just enough. You were the very thing he’s been needing to come into his life.

All thoughts were lost on you, nothing else existed in this moment aside from the both of you here, joined together. No fears of anyone coming in, no stress weighing on your mind, no worries, just each other as your bodies tangled together. Your legs wrapped around his lithe frame tightly, caging his hips between your thighs and holding him close as your hands rested on his back, digging into the fabric of his shirt as his thrusts turned deeper now. The feeling was heavenly, feeling him hit spots deep within that you hadn’t even known were there. Your back arched from the desk once more, pushing your body against his as you reveled in this feeling, rolling your hips in time with his. “You’re playing with fire there, dear” he growled by your ear, making you grin at him mischievously with a giggle. “Maybe that’s the fun part. I like the burn” you replied, voice a little deeper, slightly hoarse from overuse but carrying saccharine seduction in your tone. You were starting to show that little bit of you that he’d been dying to find hidden beneath all that sweetness, the side of you only he’d ever get to see, making him grin at your response before kissing you. If he could fall in love all over again, he had in that very moment.

You moaned into the feverish kiss, a tangle of teeth and tongue as his hips began to move at a faster, much harsher pace. As he did, your voice grew louder in volume, finding the coil in your gut growing tighter and tighter as he continued to rut into you, feeling as if it may grow taut and snap at any moment. “Cum for me, darling. Let them hear you, let them hear how good I make you feel. I can tell you’re nearly there” Silco encouraged, making you nod your head yes in reply, knowing well that you’re long past the point of coherency at this rate. All you needed was one last push and you would be sent toppling over the edge. Thankfully he knew just what to do to get you there. His fingers came to circle your clit once more, the pressure paired with his deep thrusts had your every nerve ending on fire. “Fuck! Oh gods I-“ you got out, attempting to warn him of your impending orgasm that was approaching fast.

Spots speckled in your vision as your back keened from the desk, eyes rolling back beneath tightly shut lids as your orgasm washed over you. It was powerful, all consuming, and the most blissful sensation you’d ever felt, leaving your body weak as you fought to catch your breath. “Good, just like that. So good for me” he rasped, feeling your walls tighten around him as you came and it was apparent that he wasn’t very far behind you, judging by the lack of rhythm in his thrusts. You admired the way loose pieces of his hair fell into his face, sticking against his forehead that sheened with a thin layer of sweat. Your hand came up to cup his cheek once more, resting on the scarred side of his face as you smiled up at him with so much love in your gaze. “Cum for me, Sil. Wanna feel it” you encouraged as you leaned up to capture his lips in a soft kiss, rolling your hips against his, meeting his thrusts. As he finally stilled deep within you, you could feel his cock pulse as he spilled himself inside of you with a groan that rumbled deep within his chest. The feeling was new but wonderful, making you hum in delight at the sensation of being so full, so close with him as he kissed you back.

When he finally pulled away, you were both left to catch your breath, looking upon one another in both wonderment and fondness as you did. “I enjoyed that a lot, thank you” you spoke, breaking the brief silence that had filled the room with something other than the sounds of your joined pants for air. “No darling, thank you. You were wonderful. Thank you for trusting me with such a thing” he replied, kissing the top of your head gently, making you smile happily as you watched him tuck himself back into his pants before helping you down from his desk. He couldn’t help but grin as he watched you cling to him once you’d fully set your weight down, legs wobbling upon standing. It allowed him the chance to admire his work. Hickies that had blossomed into a dark shade of purple, littering your skin beneath your collarbones, accompanied by bitemarks adorning your shoulders and breasts while you were doing your best to redress despite the ache in your back and legs from the harsh surface he’d taken you on. Once you’d let go of his hand he sat back in his chair, enjoying the sight of you struggling to get dressed perhaps a little too much. His eyes trailed down your back to the curve of your rear, bringing to mind many an idea of the things he might do to you next time. This hadn’t gone unnoticed by you, as you turned to him with a grin of your own. “Enjoying yourself?” You asked with a playful grin, earning a scoff in amusement in response. “Quite” he replied pointedly with the same cheeky tone, looking you up and down with the same hunger from before, as if he hadn’t just rocked your entire world just moments ago. You made him feel youthful in ways he hadn’t in quite sometime, so alive. You couldn’t help but laugh as you finally managed to get your pants up, then threw your shirt on. “Don’t look at me like that. If you do, I can’t promise that it wont end the same way once we get home” you threatened teasingly, making him hum with intrigue at your words. “Is that so?” He replied, making you grin as you saw him continue to look you up and down, finding yourself surprised that he could still hold any hunger for you despite having just had sex. “I did say I wanted to aid in relieving your stress, however that may be. But next time, doing so on a bed doesn’t sound half bad” you quipped with a cheeky smile, making Silco laugh as you massaged your back to emphasize your point. “I tried warning you, play with fire and you’re likely to be burnt” he responded. “And I told you I could take it, did I not? And here I am” you answered boldly, taking on a more feisty tone that he wasn’t used to hearing from you. That didn’t mean he didn’t like it though. “Here you are. Make no mistake, if you keep that tone, I will not show the same mercy that I did” he replied, much dominance in his tone, face dropping to one that looked far less amused by your behavior, making you grin. “When will you get it through that brilliant mind of yours that perhaps *that’s the point?*” You asked with another cheeky grin, your hand smoothing through his hair before kissing his cheek sweetly, soon trailing your way towards the door. Your hand rested on the knob before looking over your shoulder at him. “Don’t keep me waiting long, dearest” you finished before opening the door, walking out with all the confidence of a changed woman, while he sat in his chair, shaking his head with a lopsided grin as the door fell shut behind you.

What was he to do with you? Or better yet, what would he do without you? The answer to either of those questions he didn’t know, but what he had known was that there was no greater motivation in bringing himself home than the one you’ve given him now, leaving him to chase your coattails with all the vigor of a man addicted. Shimmer hadn’t hold a candle to you.

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ cuddles with dean

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ dean learns to be a little selfish.

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ deans my cutie little lovebug and i just want him to sleep peacefully this is my dream and i definitely got carried away writing this (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) okay bye

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluffy fluff with angst(?). cuddles. mentions of deans time in hell, and his low self-esteem. dean-centric. gender-neutral reader. modern reader in spn. isn’t really season specific, but set anytime after season 4. probably ooc (again). i may have rushed at the end, sorry. 2.68k words. 

   ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

It takes Dean a long time before he ever allows himself to be put in this position — vulnerable, open, seen. It’s not something he does. It’s not something he can do, or at least, not that easily. His life has never really been about him. Every good thing he’d ever done, every ounce of effort or care, it’s always been for someone else: Sam, Dad, the job. He’d never done anything for himself that didn’t somehow bleed into someone else. And even then, it never felt like enough.

Sam is his little brother, his responsibility. He raised him, he bled for him, he died for him. Dean had went to Hell with Sam’s name carved into every broken piece of him. Most people wouldn’t do that. But Dean Winchester isn’t most people. He’s his father's little soldier, the good son, the obedient one. There was never room for anything else. Never any space to figure out who he was outside of someone else's shadow. He didn’t belong to himself. Not when he was Sam’s guard dog. Not when he was John’s perfectly crafted weapon.

Dean hates himself — that much is obvious. He doesn’t need to say it out loud because he’s pretty sure that everyone already has that figured out, even if he wants to pretend that it isn’t true. It shows in the way he moves, the way he talks, the way he tears himself down before anyone else can get the chance to. He calls himself selfish, even though everything he’s ever done has been for the sake of everyone else. But he doesn’t see it that way. Dean never has. To him, sacrificing everything he is was just the bare minimum. That’s what he should do. Because what is he, if not useful? What is he, if not needed?

He’s so used to standing alone, to being the last line between the people he loves and the things that want to tear them apart. He'd rather it be him than anyone else — because somewhere along the way, he decided that his life just doesn't hold the same worth. Not like Sam's. Not like yours. And he hates that it hurts, but he also hates that he even thinks about wanting anything at all. Because wanting is selfish. Needing is selfish. And comfort? That’s not something Dean thinks he’d ever be allowed.

He’s touch-starved. He’s touch-starved in a way that's ingrained deep within his bones, but he’s convinced himself that this is just how it’s supposed to be. That he doesn’t get softness. Doesn’t get warmth. Doesn’t get to be held, or healed, or cared for. And if he ever lets himself want it — if he ever lets someone close enough to see how tired he is — then what does that make him? Weak? Needy? 

Yeah, it takes Dean a long while to let himself be put in this position — in your arms, safe, and loved, and for him to think that maybe he does deserve it. Even if he hasn’t earned it the way he thinks he’s supposed to. When it's so clear that all you want is to give it to him, no strings attached. It’s like coaxing a wild animal – careful, patient, and slow. You never corner Dean with affection, never overwhelm him with your gentle nature he doesn’t think he’s allowed to want. You just exist in his space, solid and steady, a quiet kind of constant that doesn’t ask for anything in return. And maybe that’s what gets to him most, that you don’t expect him to earn your kindness. You’re just there. And over time, that simple act starts to chip away at something inside him, something he didn’t even realize was still breakable.

It started with the smallest things. Your fingers brushing against his whenever you pass him something. The way you rest your hand on his arm when patching him up. They’re nothing, really — just harmless touches that you probably don’t even think about twice. But Dean does. He thinks about them more than he should. At first, he tells himself it's because he's not used to it. But the truth is, he misses it when it's gone. And that terrifies him. Because wanting something for himself? That’s not in the job description. That’s not who he’s supposed to be.

So when you get together and the cuddling starts, it’s always him as the big spoon. Of course it is. That’s who Dean is — the protector, the shield. He doesn’t let himself be held, not yet. He keeps watch even in the deepest of sleeps and in the darkest of nights, as if danger might strike at any moment. But your warmth seeps into him, like sunlight soaking into skin long starved of it. Dean’s drawn to you in a way that he hasn’t been drawn to anyone or anything before. His hand drifts to your chest, his breath soft and calm against your shoulder. It’s never deliberate, not at first, but over time it happens more often — these small, tender trespasses into comfort. And soon one day, without thinking, he simply lets himself fold right into you.

Dean revels in it more than he’ll ever admit. The way he fits so nice and easily in your arms — like he was always meant to be there. His head rests just above your heart, breathing synced with yours in the kind of rhythm that makes the world feel quiet for once. He's tucked into you so firm, your arms wrapping around him to secure him to you. As if in that moment, if something were to come through those motel doors, they would have to pry Dean from your cold dead hands. Because right now, he’s hidden from the world by the comforter that lays gingerly over him. It comes right up to his head, only his hair is visible to anyone that dare to even check. The only person that can truly see him is you. 

And Dean loves the little things that you do. Like how your fingers will trace shapes into the back of his neck, absent-minded and soft, like you’re painting calmness directly into his skin. Sometimes he wonders if you're drawing sigils or love notes, or just letting your touch wander. He doesn’t care what it is, though, just to be clear. He doesn’t care what you do. It leaves him feeling weightless, like his body is finally remembering what it feels like to be safe. That sensation, those tingles running down his spine, are enough to anchor him in the moment. And when everything else in his life has been chaos and guilt, and war — your touch is the one thing that doesn’t ask anything of him.

Which reminds him why he loves your hands. The way they move with such care, so soft it nearly breaks him into pieces. They’re nothing like his own — scarred, calloused, blood-soaked and burned by the weight of a world he never had a choice in. Your hands don’t carry the same kind of grief. They don’t know what it’s like to be dragged through Hell, to scream for years that don’t exist in time, to become the thing he swore he’d never be. He still remembers every second of it, every moment he was the one on the rack — the one being tortured, and worse, becoming the torturer.  And somehow, your hands still touch him like he’s someone worth such devotion.

That’s what gets to him the most. Your hands are from a place far far away, untouched by the things that plague his. There are no hunts or horrors quite like this life. And it’s that contrast that makes his mind wander. Because how could someone like you, with your soft hands and open heart, want someone like him? Someone who hates himself, who always puts others before himself and still believes he’s selfish for wanting anything in return. But even with all of that, even with everything screaming that he shouldn’t take it, he does. 

And you don’t mind. It surprises Dean the most how you completely and effortlessly don’t mind. He keeps waiting for the catch sometimes, for the moment when you pull away or start to expect something in return. But it never comes. Not with you. You let him hold on as tightly as he needs to, let him drape his weight across you like he’s something heavy and fragile all at once. His strong arms lock around your waist, pressing you close like he’s afraid of being pulled away. And even when his body sinks into yours like a living blanket — too warm, too much — you never pull away. If anything, you melt right into him, and he basks in that. In you.

You’d never complain. Dean doesn’t know if anything he does actually bothers you — nothing ever seems to — but that doesn’t stop him from overthinking. He worries about taking too much, about letting himself get too comfortable in a role he was never allowed to want. He questions if he’s too heavy, if he’s clinging too tightly, if maybe it’s selfish to crave softness when his whole life has been about giving it away. Sometimes, all it takes is a subtle shift from you, a stretch or a sigh, and his brain darkens with guilt. He’ll apologize under his breath, pulling back just slightly, ready to undo the comfort he let himself believe he could have. But you notice — of course you notice — and you meet it with tenderness, never rejection.

You resettle without hesitation, like you want him there, and he almost can’t handle how gently you handle him. You stroke the back of his neck with featherlight fingers, your arms curling around his broad frame as if you’re telling him to stay — that he’s safe. You press soft kisses to the crown of his head, murmuring reassurances in a voice that wraps around his heart like a warm blanket. It undoes him. Every single time. 

You might shift again, though this time it's much more gentle and slow, but Dean will barely register it. He’s just barely treading the line of that quiet space between sleep and wakefulness, just conscious enough to feel the warmth of you wrapped around him. And suddenly, a low, involuntary sound escapes him — so low that Sam who’s been long asleep couldn’t hear. It’s soft, almost like a whine, and you’re pretty sure if he were awake enough to notice, he’d probably deny it ever happened. But you do hear it, and it pulls a quiet laugh from your throat; a breathy sound laced with fondness and it tickles at Dean's brain. Though a sleepy pout tugs at your lips, even as you smile, and you lean in close to whisper a little teasing, “What’s wrong, hm?” but you already know. You know exactly what he wants, what he needs, because you’ve come to understand him in ways no one else ever has.

Your hand finds its way into his hair, still a little damp from the shower — the strands soft like clouds and a few curl slightly at the ends. Your fingers scratch lightly at his scalp, in slow and soothing consistent movements, while your other hand rests along his back; drawing slow, tender circles that feel like medicine to his aching and tension-filled body. You coo something nice, something sweet that melts into the space between you. It makes his mind go fuzzy and causes him to drift deeper. You don’t care that he’s heavy, or clingy, or quiet — you just want him to feel good. To be cared for, completely and unconditionally. And in this moment, that’s exactly what he lets you do. He doesn’t fight it. He can’t.

Your kisses are the softest sound he’s ever heard. Little clicks as your lips part from his skin, quiet and sweet and endlessly patient. Every single one makes him burrow closer, hiding his face like he could melt straight into you. He’s not embarrassed, not really — that wouldn’t be the correct word anyway — but his cheeks are warm, and he knows you’re amused by the way your chest rumbles with a quiet laugh. It makes him press in deeper, his face tucked away and eyelashes fluttering against your skin like a shy confession. And you take that as permission, because of course you do; pressing slow kisses across his cheeks, along his brow, the curve of his nose — anywhere your mouth can reach really and Dean just lets you. He can’t quite reach your lips from the angle he’s trapped himself into, he knows that, but he still tries to return the affection anyway. He’ll drowsily nudge kisses against your collarbone, or your shoulder, or anything he can manage.

And you call him such sweet things while you do it. They’re soft pet names that make him ache. Honey. Sweetheart. Words that never felt like they belonged to him before, but somehow, coming from you, feel like they do. He doesn’t know why you calling him sweetie makes his chest tight in a way that isn’t derived from panic or just something bad — but it does. But it’s also the way you say his name that gets him the most. The way it rolls off your tongue, syrupy and lovely, like something precious. You make his name sound beautiful. And Dean doesn’t know how you do it, how you take a name he’s only ever heard barked in anger or strained with urgency and turn it into something tender.

Your hand leaves his back for a moment and he misses the weight of it instantly — until he feels the soft brush of your fingers along his jaw. He sucks in a breath as you trace the edge of it with the back of your knuckle before cupping his cheek, stroking it with the pad of your thumb like he’s something delicate. He leans into it without meaning to, something quiet and needy pulling him into the warmth of your palm. You’re having fun with it, doting on him like he’s your favorite thing — and yeah, he is. He feels it in the way you touch him, in the way you look at him like he’s soft and worth loving. Dean’s never been cherished like this, not even close — and it makes him feel dizzy, overwhelmed in the best way possible. Dizzy and safe. Always safe, always with you.

It melts his heart and terrifies him at the same time. The way you treat him with so much care, so much softness, like he’s something worth keeping. And as much as he craves it, as deeply as his wretched soul aches for it, he still doesn’t believe he’ll ever actually deserve it. He tells himself he should pull away in the last conscious moments he has — but he doesn’t. He won’t. Because he let this happen. He let you in. Let the warmth of your love root itself in him until it was too deep to tear out without causing pain. Until not leaning into it hurt way worse than anything else.

Dean doesn’t know how he ended up here, wrapped up in arms that want nothing from him except for him to exist, but he gave up trying to make sense of it a long time ago. He can’t seem to make himself care about the why, though, not when you don’t seem to either. And maybe that does make him selfish because  he’s finally allowing himself to be. Sure, maybe there’s a whisper of guilt that still creeps into the corners of his mind, but you always chase it out with a kiss, or a soft word, or a tender look. And in these quiet, sacred moments, where his mind is just full of thoughts of you — he can’t think of Hell. He can’t think of all the horrors and pain and suffering. Just you. Sweet and gentle, and wonderful you. And somewhere in the deep dark of the night, Dean wonders why he was so against being selfish sooner.

𖤐 .ᐟ dean winchester hit me up, im always available just lmk (๑>؂•̀๑)

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi! I would love to request something for Aemond x fem or gn reader. I was thinking reader saying prompt. 15 from your general list “I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too."

Maybe one day he wakes up with bad pain in the eye and he doesn’t feel like calling the maester so they help him, they remove his eyepatch and apply his ointment for him. And he feels extremely insecure because it’s the first they saw him without the eyepatch but they reassure him. I need that man to cry in my arms as I tell him he’s beautiful (I know it may sound ooc but he’s my babygirl)

15. ''I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too.''

The gif from the trailer fits perfectly this request

Warnings: mention of past injuries (eye)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You returned to your chambers after spending the morning embroidering with Helaena to find Aemond still in bed. A frown drew between your eyebrows. At this hour, he was either training with Ser Criston or attending the small council meeting.

‘’Aemond?’’ Your soft voice cut through the silence of the room, waking your husband’s attention.

He shifted under the covers, his single eye fluttering open. ‘’Could you tell Cole I will not be training with him today?’’

You walked over to the bed, taking a closer look at him. ‘’Are you well?’’ You touched his forehead with the back of your hand, checking for a fever.

‘’It’s just…my eye. It gets irritated sometimes.’’ Aemond avoided your gaze, not wanting to see the familiar look of pity that he had grown all too used to seeing in the eyes of others. ‘’Would you want me to fetch the maester? He should have something to sooth your pain,’’ you offered, concern etched on your face.

‘’No need for the maester.’’ He gently caught your hand in his own, stopping you from rising. ‘’I already have a salve Maester Orwyle gave to me. It’s on the table, over there.’’

Aemond let go of your hand, allowing you to stand and retrieve the salve for his eye. You returned to the bed. ‘’I’ll do it for you.’’

You had offered your help out of pure kindness, but Aemond did not want it.

‘’No! I do not wish that.’’ His voice was firm, causing your hands to crisp around the jar. ‘’You won’t like what you see under,’’ he added with a gentler tone.

He knew what lay beneath the eyepatch — the grotesque, scarred skin that he had lived with for years now. It was a sight he preferred to keep hidden from everyone, even you. Especially you. Since you’ve known each other, you’ve only seen his good looks, and Aemond wanted to keep it that way.

Aemond let out a soft hiss of pain as he sat up, his body tense with discomfort. It had not been this bad in a long time.

Seeing him in pain made your heart ache, but you tried to hide it.

You sat down close to him and guided him back against the pillows. He clenched his jaw, trying to bear the pain.

‘’Let me,’’ you insisted, only wanting to help him, to relieve his pain.

His good eye was fixed on yours with a mixture of resignation and reluctance. He knew there was no arguing with you when you were like this.

With a resigned sigh, he slowly removed the eyepatch, revealing the scarred skin beneath. The sight was a stark contrast to his usual handsome features, with its puckered and uneven texture. He averted his gaze, unable to look at you directly.

Aemond waited for your response, his body tense, and braced for your reaction. He expected disgust, pity, perhaps even revulsion. After all, his scarred eye had left other people speechless in the past. He glanced up at you under his lashes, searching your face for any hint of how you were feeling.

You remained silent as you applied the salve on the reddish-pink skin with the more careful and gentle touch. Causing him more pain was the last thing you wanted.

Aemond couldn't help but watch you intently, studying the focused expression on your face. Your eyes were fixed on his scar, but there was no repugnance in your gaze, just a mixture of concern and tenderness.

Once you were finished, you put the lid back on the jar and cupped your husband’s face with one hand. ‘’Aemond,’’ you began, looking at him with the most loving eyes. ‘’I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are.’’ You glanced down at his naked chest, seeing the softly defined muscles he acquired from training, and back to his face. ‘’Although you look pretty great too.’’

Aemond's heart squeezed at your words and the tenderness in your gaze. He had expected a lot of things from you, but not this. Not such unconditional acceptance and love.

"You're the only person who's ever looked at me like this," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.

‘’Come here.’’ You shifted back on the bed and guided him to your lap.

Aemond didn’t protest, curling up to you, seeking comfort and closeness. You began to stroke his hair gently, running your fingers through the soft silver strands. The sensation was soothing and intimate, making him feel safe and entirely loved for the first time.

—

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[hanginginthevoid]

Curiosity Killed the Cat, but Satisfaction Brought it Back

pairing: bob reynolds x reader

summary: almost every customer you see is the same. when you finally meet someone that’s different, you can’t help but let your curiosity pique. you shouldn’t have though, new doesn't always mean good or better. sometimes new can ruin you.

a/n: HI!!! I love the idea of character x powerless!reader almost as much as i love the idea of reader who can take care of themselves. SLOWBURN!!!!! I also wrote like 10 pages straight of this before i slowed down and remember how much i HATE writing endings… 

warnings: reader gets screamed at, probably ooc bob, lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 8.2k

---

Your life would be considered mundane. You spend most of your time studying, if you weren’t studying you were at work. But to be honest, you were studying at work too. Sure you still go out with your friends, but you’re not paying thousands upon thousands of dollars to not get this degree. 

The bookshop that you work at is cute. The brick walls painted sage green, the bookshelves that lined the walls, along with the display tables, were a nice dark mahogany. Small bouquets of different flowers were painted around the shop, like easter eggs for customers to spot.

If the customers actually look at the design choices, you’d never know. Most of the customers that you saw were business or finance bro’s and ladies trying to assert themselves in their corporate jobs. 

They’d pick up some ‘life-changing’ book, and you’d never see them again. The first floor of the shop was entirely dedicated to non-fiction because of this. Gotta make it easily accessible for the clients.

You prefer fiction, and honestly, it’s a better vibe having to go upstairs to find some whimsy than just staying at the same level. Every once in a while you’ll see someone venturing up there, maybe just to take a few pictures, maybe to actually buy something. Not nearly as often as you’d like though.

Most of the time you keep your head down, busy jotting down notes or highlighting your textbook. You greet customers when they come in, help them find the book they’re looking for if need be, and give them a polite smile while asking about their day as you check them out. But their faces blur together, and none of their responses stick with you for more than a few minutes.

Today was different though.

Today two men walked into the shop. One with shaggy brown hair, deep blue eyes, and a wobbly smile like he’s worried about something, and the other with blonde hair, a beard, and eyes so icy blue you could mistake them for gray. 

The one with brown hair takes to the shelves after returning your greeting. He scans them for a little bit, checking around the displays as well before coming up to you at the checkout counter.

“Hi.. again.” You look up, but he’s avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere but you, “Do you guys have any books not based not on real stuff?”

You nod along with him, “Yeah, of course. All of our upstairs section is for fiction books.”

“O-oh. Thank you.” And he’s moving away, looking like he’s sizing up the stairs ahead of him.

You feel a little bad for the guy - the guy he’s with is just standing at the door, and he seems unsure about everything. 

Your better judgement fails, putting a tab in your textbook so you don’t lose your place, “Are you looking for anything specific?” 

“Ummm.. Not really? Just - anything fictional.” He’s starting up the stairs before he remembers something and continues his response, “And a series. Something with a lot of books.”

You smile at him, a general customer service smile but it’s softened by the want to be kind to this man, “The Maze Runner is pretty good. Five books in the series.”

With a final nod, he’s up the stairs and it’s just you and the blonde man. You think about asking if you could help him with anything, but any normal person would have already looked around if they wanted to.

They both look familiar. Not excessively, but similar to someone who you would see walking around campus but never had classes with. Like the friend of one of your friends, who only shows up once in a blue moon. 

You can’t place them before the brown haired man comes back with a book. 

He hands, not places down, hands, you a book. Upon glancing at it, you see he picked your recommendation. 

“I think you’ll like it, I was really into it when I read it for the first time.” You scan the book, placing it with the front cover down onto the simple brown packing paper you picked out this morning.

“I think so too. You would be the expert after all,” He huffs out a laugh at the end of his sentence, handing you a credit card to make his payment. 

You smile along with him, sealing the book with a ‘Thank you!’ sticker. After the card clears you hand it back to him, along with the book, and send him off with the hope that he enjoys the book.

As he turns around, he motions to his blonde counterpart, and they both head out the door. Before it shuts though, the man turns around one more time leaving you with a ‘Have a good day!’ and a warm feeling in your chest because there really are still good, kind people out there.

Unlike the normal clientele that you see, you think about this man for the rest of your shift. 

He was attractive, so you’d almost doubt that he didn’t have a girlfriend. Or maybe even a boyfriend, but there’s no way that was the blonde man. He seemed more like a bodyguard…?

He was also kind. He might not have been confident, but that didn’t take away from his other redeeming qualities. 

You think mostly about the fact that he took your recommendation. He didn’t ask for one, so it’s truly surprising that he took what you said into consideration. Paired with the fact that he spent a decent amount of time up there, seemingly pondering his options, just to come back with your recommendation still.

It’s a shame that you’ll probably never see him again. People usually don’t have the time to keep stopping by the same bookshop in this city. Assuming he’s the same as everyone else, he’ll just order the next one online and call it a day.

—

You’re almost immediately proven wrong. Just three days later, the same shaggy haired, blue eyed man walks back into the bookshop.

This time, he’s accompanied by a woman. They greet you, ask how your day is going, then venture upstairs.

You eye them more than you’d like to admit. Trying to figure out these two, the woman is clearly more invested in him than his blonde companion had been.

She's got black hair, green eyes, and an accent. Exotic. 

She stands with him as he browses, inputting her opinion, giving suggestions. Ventures off by herself for a minute before coming back with a book, you assume to recommend it.

Maybe this is the girlfriend. The one who gets to go home and call him her own. By your guesstimate, they’ve only been dating for a little while. Too many boundaries between them to be a really established, committed relationship.

Eventually, you go back to your textbook. Reducing its value every time you annotate, a highlight to show importance, and a note to explain why exactly it's important.

As you're figuring out how you want to color code this set of flashcards, someone gently clears their throat in front of you.

You look up to see the ocean eyed man. He’s smiling at you, soft like he doesn’t want to scare you off. 

“Hey, find everything alright?” You’re standing now, resting your folded arms across the counter.

He nods as he responds, “Yeah, yeah everything was findable.” 

His girlfriend wasn’t beside him anymore, instead she's perusing around the displays about ways to drastically improve your life.

When he hands you the book, you see it’s ‘The Scorch Trials’, the second book in the series you recommended. Guess they spent all that time up there just to flirt.

You scan it, placing it face down on the same brown packing paper as the last book, “Am I safe to assume that you enjoyed the first one?”

“Y-yeah, I didn’t think Alby would die like that. Y’know? He felt like the glue and then boom! He was gone.” 

It’s sweet. He’s not afraid to show his joy from the story. Accentuation his ‘boom’ with his hands, and, holding eye contact. 

“Me either. My favorite is Newt though, so I’m just happy he made it out of the maze.” You’ve sealed the book with a ‘Have a great day!’ sticker, and then you’re handing it back.

“I don’t have a favorite yet, but I’ll keep Newt in mind! He seems like a good guy.” And then his girlfriend is back at his side, ushering him out the door. He yells a ‘Have a good rest of your day!’ over his shoulder, and then they’re disappearing into the busy New York sidewalk.

You wonder if he’ll finish the second one as fast as the first one. Though, you hoped not. 

You wouldn’t be working that day and even if he had a girlfriend he was still a breath of fresh air that you wouldn’t want to miss the chance to inhale. 

Maybe you’d go find a dandelion to wish on after your shift. But then again, he’s just a man. You don’t even know his name for God’s sake. 

Yeah, no dandelion for you.

—

Sunday is the universal reset day. Least you’d think so. You bring your laundry down to your apartment building's laundry room, let it start to do its thing in the washer then head out. 

First grabbing a coffee at the cute coffee shop a couple of blocks down. You swear they make the best macchiatos. 

Then you’re on your way to the grocery store. Getting the most important things first; Greens and proteins. Then the things important to your heart like carbs and cheese, ice cream if it’s weather permitting. Then everything else, from snacks to garbage bags, to dryer sheets, to a new mascara, or maybe even some flowers. 

The trick was getting everything you needed, but not too much that it became difficult to haul home. Today was not one of the days that you got the ratio right.

Maybe you bought too many snacks, but you’ve got a hell of a lot of assignments due this week and that permits a hell of a lot of snacking.

Thankfully, you brought a nearly empty backpack with you, so you’re able to stash some groceries in there and not kill your wrists. It doesn’t help much though, by the time you make it to the elevator your fingers are throbbing and turning white from the lack of circulation.

You put away the refrigerated and frozen items before making your way down the stairs. Gotta burn your calories somehow.

After switching your laundry from the washer to the dryer, you head back upstairs. Starting in the living room you put away stray books, highlighters, pens, and papers. Straighten up the couch by fluffing the cushions, and folding the blankets before grabbing any cups or mugs that may have been left out and bringing them to the kitchen.

You go through the dishes fast, most of them being able to fit into the dishwasher. Then it's putting away the rest of the groceries, and wiping down the counters. 

The bathroom and bedroom are tidied up daily so besides changing the sheets, you forgo taking care of them. Instead vacuuming so that you can just put on a movie and fold your clothes before making dinner.

You can barely hear your phone going off from where it rests on your kitchen counter. It gets ignored though, probably just one of your parents checking in, worried because you’ve been swamped with school. You can just text them back before you start folding.

After the vacuum is shut down, and properly stored in your coat closet, you head back downstairs to retrieve your laundry. 

The basket goes between the couch and the coffee table, ensuring you have enough space to section out all your clothes. But you still have to pick a movie. Something you’ve seen before, so you won’t get distracted. Yet still something interesting, so you don’t give up on your laundry halfway through and leave it all around your apartment. 

By the time you remember your phone and the aforementioned text from your parents, you’re about thirty minutes into ‘Madagascar’. The thought of leaving it, and continuing with your progress passes through your mind. And you mull over the idea for a few minutes. But then you remember that not everyone has parents that care about them, and you push yourself off the couch to go get your phone.

When you turn it on while walking back to the couch, you notice that it wasn’t from your parents. Instead you're met with a message from Tasha, your coworker. Maybe the shop ran out of a popular book? Or a customer wanted to return a, clearly, read book again.

Opening the chat, you see that it’s neither of those. 

Tasha: Some guy came in today asking about you

What guy could come in asking about you? Would this be your chance to meet some millionaire who’d pay for your tuition. God you hoped so. At the very least please let him be hot. Well, hot is an overstatement, let him be not horrid to look at.

You’d never know if you didn’t ask though, so you type out a quick reply before sitting back on your couch, digging your hand back into the laundry basket.

Y/n: What guy?

The response is nearly instantaneous.

Tasha: GIRL

Tasha: YOU TOOK

Tasha: SO LONG

Y/n: mb, yk sunday is my reset

Y/n: left my phone on the counter while folding clothes so i didn’t lose my flow

Tasha: does NOT matter

Tasha: he was FINE

Tasha: TALL

Tasha: DARK HAIR

A tall, dark haired man was asking for you? That’s like - half the businessmen in New York. She’d need to be more specific.

Y/n: you gotta gimme sumn else

Y/n: thats like half the people who come in

Tasha: like long dark hair

Tasha: blue eyes

You start typing before you can really think about the implications. 

Y/n: did he get a maze runner book??

Tasha: yeah

Tasha: so who is he

It’s comical how Tasha thinks that he’s interested in you. It’d be nice if he was. You’d definitely accept a date with him if he ever offered. But you’re not a homewrecker. 

Y/n: just a nice dude who doesn’t treat staff like theyre garbage

Y/n: he’s got a girl tho, she came w him last time

It’s getting late, and you’ve fallen behind on your mental schedule. You’ll start dinner while you finish up your conversation, then after you eat you can finish your laundry and head to bed. 

Getting up you take out the ground beef you bought just a few hours ago. Splitting it into two portions you put one half in a ziploc bag and stuff it in your freezer before putting the other half into a pan to brown. As you’re opening a can of crushed tomatoes, your phone dings with a new message.

Tasha: idk 

Tasha: didnt seem like he did when he was describing you

You shake your head as you start adding seasonings to your beef. Also putting a pot of water to boil before wiping your hands to respond.

Y/n: hes just nice

Y/n: dont read into it

Y/n: see u tuesday girly

Then your phone ends up on do not disturb. You’ve got to finish these chores if you want to be able to properly focus on your studies. 

Unfortunately you think about Tasha’s texts until you crawl into bed. She was adamant that he was feeling you in at least one sense of the word. The idea makes your cheeks warm. Not much, since it would just be a delusion, but enough for you to recognize the familiar flush.

Next time you see him, you’ve got to block the messages out of your mind. Otherwise you’d make a fool out of yourself. He had a girlfriend, and you’d respect that.

Plus, he didn’t even know your name! How could he have any sort of feeling for you without knowing your name? You supposed it could be similar to how you’ve got a flutter in your chest when you see him, but that’d be dumb, men don’t think that way.

—

You’re hunched over your laptop, typing up a storm when you hear the bell jingle. It doesn’t stop you from typing, you’ve got a flow going and you wouldn’t stop it for the world. 

When your half-hearted greeting is replied to by a known voice you freeze. It’s brief, so you hope he doesn’t notice, but it still happens. Then you’re back to typing, throwing a ‘let me know if you need anything!’ in his general direction.

Truth be told, you were just typing mumbo-jumbo. Trying to manifest a proper thought that would never come. You wanted to look up. See if he had come by himself today, or if he had brought his girlfriend along. But curiosity killed the cat, and living in the fantasy that he could possibly like you, was far too nice to trade.

You switch from typing on your personal laptop, to typing on the shop’s pc. If you weren’t going to be productive with your essay, you could at least be productive by ordering some much needed stock. 

That’s the only reason you switched. Not because you wanted to take a look around the shop. Not because the flutter in your chest was still happening, minutes after just speaking to him. And most certainly not because you remembered, curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

You wanted it to be conspicuous. Nonchalant. Just a casual glance around the shop to make sure no one was stealing anything. 

However, a shout made you spring your head up. Staring directly at the man you're infatuated with, and his companion for the day. A tall man, with a graying beard.

He really has no shortage of friends. All different shapes and sizes too.

“Sorry!” He’s waving at you, an embarrassed look overtaking his features. 

Before you can tell him that there’s no need to apologize his friend is speaking, loudly, again “Why do you apologize? We do nothing wrong, nothing.”

“Because! It’s a bookshop, and it was quiet. Silent even! Before you shouted.” He’s whisper shouting, trying to make his point in the quietest way possible. 

Huffing out a laugh, you go back to your essay. Even with nobody else in the shop, this guy still has the manners to not want to mess up the vibe. Maybe he has a twin you could get with.

You barely hear from the two again until they're right up in front of you. Your ears pick up on ‘Alexi’ and ‘over there’, before you’re approached by ocean eyes himself. 

“Hi. Sorry again, about him.” It looks like he’s rocking on his feet a little bit, but you’re not tall enough to be sure. “ He - uh. He’s not the best in social settings.”

“Ah, I see. So. What’re you getting today?” Your hands are out, like a child waiting to accept a present.

He places ‘The Kill Order’ in your hands. “Newt died. You kinda gaslit me into believing he was a safe favorite character.” 

The way he says it is flat. It makes you worry a bit, and he’s looking at you straight faced like he’s really got a bone to pick. “My bad! He really was my favorite. Even though he kicked the bucket. I didn’t think you’d really pay more attention to him if I mentioned it.” 

You hope your apology is taken seriously. Your eyebrows are creased, eyes conveying your sincerness, at least you hope they are. But then he’s laughing. Why is he laughing?

“Sorry, I - I wasn’t serious. I did think he was a safe character to like but I thought it’d be funny to pull your leg a little.” Oh. Thank god he wasn’t really upset.

Then you’re laughing a little bit along with him, “You got me. I’ll give you that.” You scan the book, proceeding along with the same routine as always. This time you’re wrapping it in a deep burgundy packing paper, sticking it with a ‘Come again soon!’ sticker before handing it back. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” He raises his eyes to meet yours when you start speaking, “but you read a lot.” 

“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. It’s nice to be immersed in a different world sometimes.”

“Gotcha. Well it was nice to see you again…” You trail off, hoping he takes the hint and gives you his name.

“Oh - Bob, I-I’m Bob. What’s your name?” He’s back to avoiding eye contact. But he hasn’t moved away from the counter yet, so he can’t be that uncomfortable.

You give him your name, and he repeats it. Trying it out on his tongue, figuring out the syllables and the way to say them that makes them sound best. Then he’s leaving, well, more like getting dragged out. 

His huge friend has an arm wrapped around his shoulders and he’s walking with a purpose that Bob can’t resist. 

As they start to make their way down the street, Bob spares you a grin and a wave through the window. 

You wonder when he’ll finish that book. When he’ll be back and you’ll get to look into his eyes again. When you’ll get to dream about how soft his hair is.

As long as you’re on shift you couldn’t care less though.

—

This goes on for a few months. Bob comes in, always with a companion, picks out a book from a series you’ve recommended. The two of you crack a couple of jokes, or Bob asks you about your studies. And then he’s gone for a few days. 

Sometimes he doesn’t show up at all. Usually just for a few days, which wouldn’t be bad but it's abnormal for him. Once in a blue moon it's for a or over a week, he never explains, just apologizes.

His companions are always one of 6 people. They fluctuate, sometimes the same person joining him two times in a row, sometimes they rotate like a wheel and you don’t see the same person for a few weeks.

Then they stop coming. Well not entirely. But they stop coming inside. At first they just stand outside the shop, lingering just outside the door. 

Eventually they start to ‘drop’ Bob off. Walk with him till they get to the shop, the two of them exchange a few words, then Bob walks in, and his companion walks off. 

They make sure to pick him up after. It’s always on their time though. Bob will come in, pick out his book, check out, and then talk to you the rest of the time.

It’s all basic conversation, favorite colors, what drew you to get your degree, why you chose NYU over something closer to home, favorite ice cream flavor, what Florida was like. 

It seems silly to assume that he likes you. But it seems even sillier to assume that he doesn’t. No way would he waste all this time just to not care at all. 

He still asks Tasha about you when you’re not there. She thinks you two are a match made in heaven. Well as close to one as she can get without really knowing him. But he’s attractive, attracted to you, you say he's kind, so what’s not to like.

You see Bob and his female blonde companion, Yelena you think her name is, talking outside the shop. You can’t hear them, but you can see Bob wringing his fingers together and Yelena putting her hands on his shoulders, giving him a decent shake. 

Then it’s like something in Bob shifts, and he gains confidence. Looking into her eyes he smiles a bit, not too much, but enough for it to be noticeable. And he's turning around, and opening the door to the shop. 

“Good morning, how’s it going?” He’s smiling, looking directly at you.

You can tell he’s really taking you in. How you did your hair, the sweater that you’re wearing, maybe he even notices the mascara you put on just on the hope that you’d see him today. 

“Good, how’s it going with you?” 

He’s not moving from the counter, still studying you. “It’s good. Hopefully it’ll be better in a minute.” The look on your face, warm, comforting, understanding, interested, encourages him to continue. “I was hoping you’d maybe…” Bob has to take a breath to steady himself, “W-would you get coffee with me sometime?”

It takes you a few seconds to process. Bob wants to get coffee with you? Like as in a date? You’ve been dreaming about this for months. When you’re done thinking it through, the giddiness gets to you.

Beaming at him, “Of course. I would love to get coffee with you Bob.” 

“Really?” His mouth is gaping a little, like he really thought you’d reject him.

“Really. I’m not working on Thursday if that works for you?” You really hope that there aren’t hearts in your eyes. The blush on your cheeks is prominent, you can feel it, and it would be embarrassing if Bob didn’t have a matching one.

“Thursdays gre-perfect. It’s perfect.” 

You’re discussing which cafe to go to before you shoo Bob away to go pick out his book. God forbid Yelena comes back and he still hasn’t checked out.

There’s a pleasant warmth in your chest when he leaves. And you’re light, like every stress has been lifted away. Maybe it’s adrenaline from your crush being reciprocated, or maybe it’s the bloom of puppy love, either way it's welcomed.

—

When Thursday rolls around, you’re more energized than ever. Practically bouncing around your apartment as you get ready. Using the same body wash, and lotion so the scent really sticks.

Putting on makeup, not too much, but enough so that it enhances your face and gives you some extra ‘shine’.

You also make sure to dress comfortable, cute, but comfortable. You’ve only seen Bob outside of his sweaters a handful of times, and you doubt that a coffee shop date would be the spot he decides to bring out all the stops.

Wait. What if he doesn’t see this as a date. Maybe he just wanted to become friends with you outside your job. Wanted to add onto his never ending revolving companions to accompany him around on his errands. 

No. That’s not right. Bob wouldn’t do that, anyone would have to know that would be leading you on and he doesn’t have the hate in him to do that. No way.

When you get there, Bob’s already sitting down at a table. He’s people watching, looking out the window at all the unsuspecting people passing by.

His hair looks like he styled it instead of letting it do it’s own thing, and he's got a comfy crew-neck on. The slopes of his nose and lips and the way that his lashes lightly brush his cheekbones when he blinks. He’s beautiful like this, unfortunate that you have to break up his peace. 

You slide into the chair across from him, “Hey.”

He’s smiling at you, one of the biggest you’ve seen, “How was the walk?”

“Not bad, a little chilly but that’s nothing new.” 

“Well, let me get you a drink to warm up, yeah?”

You give him your order, and then he’s gone. Up at the counter in a flash, and seemingly back in even less time. 

Like a proper gentleman he hands you yours first. His hand was a little too big on the mug, leaving you no choice but to brush your fingers against his as you go to grip it. Believe it or not, it’s the first time you’ve touched. 

Suddenly, the world is being painted black. It’s creeping up all around you, spreading from where you stand, up the walls, to the ceiling. For a split second it’s just you in this neverending black box.

Then you’re in the backseat of your first ever car. “How the hell?” You’re looking around, trying to figure out how you could have possibly gotten here. You were just with Bob, at a cafe, on your first date.

Then you start murmuring. Not you you, but the younger you, the one sitting in the front seat. She’s talking about how tiring it is being perfect, doing everything that everyone ever asks, always being the one that people know they can rely on, or at the very least fall back on to talk shit about others to. And before you can even finish your rant your fathers screaming back at you. How he owns the house, he lives in the house, he bought your car, he provides everything and asks for so little back. 

You feel the tears before you recognize that you're crying. But you hear her sobs. The way her chest shakes with every breath, the way it's painful to inhale. How the hell did you get here, and why can’t you just get out?

The screaming doesn’t stop, it keeps going, getting progressively worse. You’re clearly ungrateful, and you need to remember your place. When you get your own place, then you can have the thoughts and feelings that you’re currently having. Until then suck it up.

You try to leave, opening the door of the car, but you can’t, you have too much respect for your father. 

The adult you is staring. This was the whole reason you left home after all. All the talk about having a place of your own, the arguments over the way you kept your room, or didn’t clean a specific area of the house. 

It ends with the sound of you sobbing still. Worse than before. Your airways are already compromised with the snot blocking it, and the way you’re trying to suppress the sobs is only making it worse. 

And then it’s melting away. In the same way that it started, but in reverse. The scene fades to black, the ceiling gets its color back first. The rest of the scene coming into view, Bob staring at you is the last thing you register. 

“I-i-i’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?” He’s worried, the stutter proving your thoughts. But how does he know something is wrong? You didn’t see anyone else in there with you, just your own personal hell.

“Did.. Did you do that?” You’re trying to piece together this puzzle. No way that you slice or dice it does it look good. 

His eyes are frantic, you think that’s what tipped you off, “I. I did. I didn’t mean to though! I promise it was an accident.” 

Then you’re pushing past him. Not slowing down as he calls after you. When you make it to the sidewalk, you book it.

What the hell?

What was wrong with him?

What was wrong with you?

How did he even do that?

Did he bring you out on a date just to humiliate you?

Maybe that’s what you deserve, his girl friends probably told him to do it. Even if you don’t understand how it worked, it would make sense; embarrass you to the point where you’d never bother him again.

—

You take the next week off of work. Any shift you can, you give to Tasha. The shifts that you do work, because you need money to live, are the afternoons. Just a few hours, essentially in and out.

As long as no one sells you out, Bob would never know and would never come during that time. 

You told Tasha that the date went bad, but that was all you had disclosed. You hoped she’d be kind enough not to meddle.

She did inform you that he came in often, almost everyday, looking for you. He’d asked when you’d be working next, Tasha told him it was illegal for her to tell him.

He’d left notes with Tasha, and she passed them along. Just for you to toss them in the bin. The one at work, so you wouldn’t be tempted to dig through the trash and see what he wrote.

He asked what you liked, if there was a gift card or book he could get you to apologize. Tasha told him to kick rocks. 

She did let you know that he looked awful. His hair was messy, tousled beyond its normal amount; like he spends all day running his hands through it. 

His eyes had bags under them. They were extremely sunken in, and had a purplish hue to them. His eyes themselves were red, sometimes puffy, most times half-lidded, like opening them took too much energy.

He was almost always sniffling. His nose red from irritation. You told her this had to have been allergies, Tasha insisted it was from crying.

And lastly, his hands. Always fidgeting. Picking at his nail beds, wringing around each other, or cracking his knuckles.

Bob looked worn down. His body, mind and soul. But what did Tasha want you to do about it, it’s not your fault.

—

It’s another week later when a blonde walks into the shop. 

You take a glance at the clock on your computer before speaking, “Hey, just wanted to let you know that we close in a half-an-hour. Take your time though.”

“I’m actually here for you.” 

That sends a chill down your spine. This is New York so it wouldn’t be completely unheard of to be taken hostage. But you haven’t done anything and you have essentially no value, so why are they here for you?

For the first time, you really look at the person in front of you. You know her. Not entirely sure from where, but she’s familiar in a way. 

You take the non-threatening approach, donning a soft smile before you speak, “Yeah of course. What can I do for you?” 

She’s staring at you, and you swear she hasn’t blinked once. It’s like she’s staring through your soul. 

“Bob told me that he sent you to a shame room.” 

“What?” Breath catching in your throat. You remember her now, Yelena. Bob’s most frequent companion. Maybe if you can keep your cool, you’ll get off easy.

“On your date. At the place that does the uhhh, latte art?” Yelena’s still holding eye contact. 

You’re really trying not to sweat, “Oh. Yeah, what about it?”

“You’ve been ignoring him since.” 

You can’t deny it. You literally switched shifts just so you wouldn’t have to see him. So you nod, hoping that suffices.

“He didn’t mean to. He can’t control it.”

What is she even talking about, “Sorry? Can’t control what?” 

“The shame room. Where you went when he touched you?” You hum a bit in response before she continues, “He can’t control that. He’s been good for months, so he thought he could get through a date, with you, safely.”

You don’t understand though. Why can’t he control that? Why can he do that, period. It’s not normal but Bob’s definitely not a superhero that you’ve seen on your TV before.

“Why.. Why can he do that?” If she’s gonna corner you here, you’re at least gonna ask some questions too.

“It’s a long story, not mine to tell. But I’m sure Bob would tell you. If you let him.” Then she’s turning, heading straight for the door. 

That’s it? 

That’s all she had to say?

What, was she trying to scare you into talking to him?

Your heart ached. You thought he liked you, thought he had maybe cared for you like you cared for him. And it’s okay if he didn’t but why did he have to make it the most painful way possible?

—

You don’t get much sleep that night. Tossing and turning as you replay the past few months in your head. Bob was a lot of things, but he wasn’t the type to be malicious. Not the type to purposefully torture others. 

And you doubt he sent Yelena after you. She probably just saw him hurting and decided to step in. Completely understandable, and in its own way that hurt too.

It hurt because it meant that Bob was hurting. He missed you as much as you missed him. And he’s had much less context for why you’re avoiding him.

You decide you’ll go to the shop in the morning. Hang out with Tasha and maybe, if you’re lucky, run into Bob.

—

You manage to fall asleep, not for long but it's better than nothing. The anxiety you have is making you shake.

Whether it's your hands, your arms, or your legs, somethings been moving all morning.

To calm yourself, you take the long way. Make a stop at a cafe, getting Tasha a coffee as well since you’re an amazing coworker. 

When you come up on the bookshop, you can see Bob through the window. 

While you can’t see his face, you know he’s not 100%. 

His shoulders are slouching, caving in on himself it seems. He’s saying something to Tasha, trying to get her to accept another note by the looks of it. 

The jingle of the bell above the door makes both of them freeze. 

Tasha’s eyes widen, recognition that you’re finally facing the music flashing through them. And that must be what makes Bob turn around.

He turns slowly. Eyes slowly roaming over your body before finally landing on your face. His mouth falls open, not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.

Then his lower lip starts to wobble, tears gathering over his waterline making his eyes glassy, and he’s moving towards you.

Slow, unsure steps lead him to a few feet in front of you. His hands move over your shoulders, not daring to touch you, but hovering close enough for you to just barely feel their warmth. 

“I’m so,so,so, sorry. I’ve been working on it, and I just..” He swallows before continuing, not breaking eye contact, “I feel so calm. Like - like I’m at peace, when I’m around you, so I thought it wouldn’t happen. I thought I could break it to you slowly, a-after you accepted a second date.”

You’re just standing there. The damn coffee you got prevents you from wringing your hands, and it’s difficult to bounce your legs when standing. 

The urge to back away from him is strong. But you can tell he’s trying, you can tell that he wants you to believe him.

When Bob realizes you aren’t going to respond, he continues, “I thought it would be too heavy, you know? To tell you about all of this baggage that I have. Thought that if I told you, everything would change.” 

“A warning would have been nice.” You’re not looking at him anymore, instead staring at your shoes. It’s a shame you didn’t trip on your lace on the way here, then you wouldn’t have had to come.

“I know.” Bob sighs, “I know that now. And if I could go back, I would have told you. Warned you even if I ended up being the boy that cried wolf.”

You see his hands retract, no longer hovering over your shoulders. You don’t understand why he pulls his sleeves over his hands. But then he’s placing his, now covered, hands on your shoulders. The grip he has is strong, but not painful, “I need you to know. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’d never do anything to hurt you. Intentionally at least.” 

“So you’d do it unintentionally?” 

You’re being difficult. Intentionally. Mostly because he’s not making sense, what type of scumbag says he’d never hurt you intentionally. That’s like the bare minimum.

“There’s… A lot to explain. I’ll explain it all, if you’ll let me!” He’s leaning a bit now, bending at the knees to get a look into your eyes. 

When you do meet his eyes, you can see the sincerity. They haven’t stopped glistening, still shiny with unshed tears. But it looks like he wants you to look into his soul, to understand that from deep in his core he is apologetic. 

A scumbag wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t have covered their hands to prevent touching you. They wouldn’t have been trying so hard to get in contact with you. 

So you nod. 

You’ve agreed to meet him again. Not on a date, but for some answers. 

He wants to do it today.

You tell him that you need time. To process or prepare, you’re not sure. But you know you need time.

Your feelings about him haven’t had the proper time to dissipate, so a small part of you still hopes that everything could work out.

—

When you do come around and text Bob that you’re ready to talk. His response comes almost immediately.

You invite him to your apartment. It’s more intimate than you would like, however it would save you the embarrassment of how you would end up if he were to send you to a ‘shame room’ again.

When Bob gets there, he's nervous. Just a little twitchy, not too much but enough to be noticeable. 

He’s brought pastries. Something about his mother telling him to ‘never show up empty handed’ tumbles from his lips as he hands them to you.

You offer him a drink, like this is just going to be a fun catch up between pals. 

Not sure what to expect, you lead Bob to your dining room table. It’s a good space to have this conversation, not too comfortable like the couch, but not too formal like standing near the door.

“So -” You can barely get it out of your mouth before Bob starts spilling his life story to you.

He doesn’t go too deep into any one topic, but he makes sure that you can paint a clear picture in your mind.

He had a rough childhood, never close with either of his parents. That led him to drugs, which then ebbed into addiction. 

The addiction sent him all around the world, sometimes trying to get better, most times trying to find more, better, different drugs.

He ended up in Malaysia, they offered him a test run of some new drug. One that would make him ‘better’. 

Everyone could be better, him more than others. 

But then there's a blank slate in his memory. No recollection of what happened after they gave him the drug.

Until he ends up in some bunker with 3 of his 6 companions. They escaped together and have been working to make the world a ‘better place’.

“Wait. What do you mean you've been ‘working to make the world a better place’?” It’s the first time you’ve spoken since he went on his tangent, and Bob looks surprised that you had something to say.

“Well, they do. Not me, I focus on… Communications mostly. Because I don’t have a good enough grasp on my powers yet.” 

“And what exactly do they do?”

“It’s uh - Classified?” 

You scoff, “Classified..? What do you think you are? The Avengers?”

After you mutter your rhetorical question, Bob looks away.

“No way. You’re an Avenger?”

“Technically.” His heads down, leaving you to stare at his scalp instead of his eyes.

“And all the people you came into the shop with? They’re Avengers too?”

“Yeah. They’re more flashy. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t recognize them, to be honest.” He huffs out a laugh, seemingly glad that you’re actually taking part in the conversation now.

Your response is quiet, “It’s a psychological thing.”

Bob hums in response, urging you to continue.

“When you see someone, like a superhero, out of where your brain assumes they would be, most times you miss it. Some of your friends looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I saw them, until now.”

“That’s… Wow, I never knew that.” Bob’s looking at you with a bit of awe in his eyes.

But then he’s straight back to business.

He tells you about how before, his bad days were bad and he’d black out. But now after the treatment, another, worse side of him has awakened. 

That’s how he transported you into one of your worst memories. 

“At least one person from the team stayed with me, all the time. That’s how it was when I first met you.” Bob’s tapping his fingers against the table, in a slow rhythmic pattern, “But then I wanted to take you out. And who goes on a date with a chaperone when we’re adults, right?”

“Yeah, right.” You’re laughing at him, or maybe with him.

“So, I started working on containing my powers more. Working on making them my own, so that I could be by myself. M-more like so I could be alone with you.”

“Just with me?” 

He’s nodding, “Just with you. And it went really good! To the point where I could go out on all sorts of different errands by myself.”

His cup has started to sweat. All the condensation building up on it from being untouched this whole time. Because you care about your well loved table, you reach across and lift his cup before placing it on a coaster. It slows him down for a second before he can continue.

“It was the nerves. O-or at least I think it was the nerves. I don’t know for sure what causes it; nobody does.”

“So, you being nervous about being on a date made you send me to my own personal hell?”

“Being on a date, with you specifically, yes.”

The way he’s opened up to you has greatly increased your trust in him.

If everything he’s saying was true, he had a bad deal in life and he’s doing the best with what he’s got. The Bob you knew did have some confidence problems, taking a while to open up to you originally so it wouldn't be surprising that he would be nervous.

It also wouldn’t be surprising that him being nervous would send his powers out of wack. There’s been articles about it before, how super powered individuals don’t realize the way their emotions are affecting their powers before it’s too late.

And if he’s lying. You’d have to give him a shot for just how damn good of a lie it was. No one could lie that good without a purpose.

So you reach across the table, towards Bob’s fidgeting hand. His eyes aren’t looking up so you only know that he sees you when his fingers stop tapping.

“I want to try.” You gulp and take a steadying breath, “I’d like to try with you if I didn’t put you off too much.”

You’re not touching him. Even though you would be the one suffering, it only felt right for him to make the first move. Not wanting to overstep by triggering his powers again.

After a couple of seconds he still hasn’t moved. Hasn’t looked up at you, hasn’t grasped your hand, hasn’t even twitched his fingers.

Then, softly, like if he speaks too loud the room would crack around him, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m sure.”

Slowly, his hand rises up to meet yours. When they connect nothing changes.

No black tendrils crawling up your walls, no darkness consuming you with no escape, no flashbacks to things you don’t want to remember.

The only thing you feel is the warmth from Bob’s hand. The calluses on his palm, small, but still present. You feel the tender way his thumb brushes over your knuckles. 

Once he realizes that nothing’s happening, he grips your hand tighter. It seems unconscious, the surprise from nothing bad happening overtaking him before he can stop it.

He’s beaming at you. A kiddish smile, one that allows all the joy to really shine through. 

You’re no better. Smiling so wide that if you didn’t stop, your cheeks would start to hurt.

Everyone has baggage, some of them more than others. But that doesn’t mean that anyone is undeserving. Doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t give someone a chance to prove that they can be more than their baggage. 

You wouldn’t deprive yourself of this opportunity. Wouldn’t be so unkind to deprive Bob of it either. So with the promise that he would be honest with you. That he would communicate to you, the good and the bad, no matter what. You and Bob start your relationship.

Moving over to the couch, finally able to be comfortable, instead of cordial. The two of you settle into a movie, sitting close. Close enough to touch, but not actually touching.

Until halfway through, when your head comes to rest on his shoulder, and the blanket that you have resting on the back of the couch comes to rest over your laps.

Your curiosity over Bob may have ‘killed’ you, sending you into a week-long depression for many different reasons. Leading to you shutting out the world, not willing to accept the fact that you were wrong about him.

But the way that you’re feeling right now. Feeling Bob lifting his arm to wrap around your shoulders, letting your head fall onto his chest instead of his shoulder. Hearing his heart thumping in his chest, almost lulling you to sleep. 

You know that this is satisfaction. It’s bloomed deep in your chest, taking a permanent residence there. Deeply rooted like it's attached to every neuron in you. And you know that it’s brought you back.

likes/comments/reblogs give me buffs to my character (greatly appreciated <3)

[dearru]

notes in the margins | o.miya

-> rq: established relationship scenario where the reader is a lot smarter than Osamu and tutors him

-> pairing: miya osamu x gn!reader | sfw | cw: cursing, maybe a lil ooc idk tho, osamu is flirty asf but ur into it | genre: fluff | wc: 890 | mlist

“Damn…” Osamu huffs, twirling a pencil in his hand and staring down at the paper in front of him like if he looks at it long enough, the work will magically get done through sheer force of will. As capable of a person as he may appear, everybody has their fatal weaknesses. For Superman, it’s Kryptonite, and for your boyfriend– it’s math. 

From what he’s told you, the numbers float off the page and morph into strange shapes that taunt him with their absurdity. You’ve tried to explain that the “strange shapes” are just the Greek alphabet, but he wouldn’t hear it. Though, as helpless as he may be, he is your boyfriend, so you do your best to hold him accountable through weekend study sessions. It doesn’t hurt that he has this mind-numbingly adorable quirk where he twitches his nose when deep in thought (which he often had to be in to do math). 

You glance from your assignment to him in mild amusement and smile. “You good?” 

“‘M good,” He mutters, but the wrinkle in his forehead and clenched jaw suggest otherwise. 

You laugh softly and promptly get up to put him out of his misery. Leaning over his shoulder, you peek at his work and frown, “You’ve hardly made any progress!” 

He shrugs, unapologetic, “‘S not my fault math’s borin’.” Lolling his head sideways to look at you, he yawns, “Let’s take a snack break.” 

“You’ve had, like, ten snack breaks, ‘Samu.” You sigh, gently using your hand to press his gaping mouth closed.

Sometimes, when he gets like this, you remember that while he is your sweet boyfriend, he’s still a Miya— a notoriously annoying family lineage to come from. You bite back a remark about how, if he keeps going at this rate, his twin brother will end up with better grades than him. 

“I’d pay much better attention with a break,” He reasons, face blank, “‘Specially if I can take one with my cute tutor.” 

You feel your cheeks warm at his remark, in awe of how he can flirt so nonchalantly. “I’m being serious,” You say, patting his shoulder encouragingly. The firm feeling of the muscular ridge weighs heavy in your palm, “Just try. I’m sure you can figure it out.” 

He groans, “‘S easy for ya to say ‘cause yer in the smarty-pants class. Normal folk like me gotta suffer through rememberin’ how to do all this shit.” 

A rush of satisfaction at his compliment washes over you. Clearing your throat, you push the feeling aside, “You’re far from normal,” You remind him, rolling your eyes. After a beat, you add, “ And I’m only doing good in class ‘cause I pay attention. If you did the same, you’d probably retain the information.” 

“Guess I need an incentive,” He says simply, leaning back in his chair, eyes boring into yours. 

Averting your gaze from his piercing stare, you glance at his paper again, scoffing at the numbers on the page. Taking the pencil from his hand, you start to correct the mistakes on his homework. “You gotta check your work,” You mutter, scribbling in the margins. “How many times do I have to say that?”  

He only hums in reply. 

“You didn’t even finish this one!” You whine, turning to look up at him from the paper, only to find he’s been staring at you this whole time. Your faces are seemingly millimeters apart. His warm breath brushes against you and makes your heart stutter. “C’mon,” You exclaim, trying to hide your flusteredness, “You’re better than th–” 

“Ya got real pretty handwriting, y’know,” he interrupts, eyes flickering down to your lips. As if that’s what matters right now. 

“Are you even listening to me?” You ask pointedly, heat rising in your cheeks, stomach flipping. 

“I’m listenin’,” He assures you, voice low with a hint of amusement, no doubt in response to your failed attempts at masking your current state. 

You clear your throat again, trying to maintain eye contact, “I’m serious. Finish the assignment. I wrote down all the steps for you. It can’t be that hard.” 

Osamu shifts in his chair, still looking at you rather intently, “We can’t all be smart like you.” 

The words sink in, and it takes all of your willpower to not let the flattery get to you. Maybe if you kissed him long enough, you’d transfer your knowledge straight to his head? 

“You are smart,” You tease, tilting your head at him, “Just lazy.”

“Maybe so,” He says, and you can tell, based on the way his shoulders straighten, that your attempts at faking nonchalance aren’t working anymore. You may as well be looking at him with hearts in your eyes. 

You swallow. Hard. 

You let the palpable tension hang in the air for a moment before you can’t take it anymore. Relenting, you give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Okay, if you finish this worksheet, maybe we can talk about an incentive.” 

At the sound of your compromise and the feeling of your lips on his skin, your usually expressionless boyfriend’s lips quirk up into a subtle grin. Once you pull away, he starts to diligently work on a problem for the first time all night, ears twinged with a slight pink, “Don’t hav’ta tell me twice.” 

God, you love him.

—a/n: i fear im never beating the osamu lover allegations

[multifandomlover01]

His Person

Spencer Reid (S1, early stages of relationship) x chubby!fem!reader (I’m basing this off myself mostly)

WC: ~2.5k

Summary: Spencer reassures his girlfriend that she is the only one for him and that she's beautiful to him no matter what she's wearing

Warnings: body talk, insecurities about body (specifically a pudgy tummy) and relationship/worth/value, one (1) intrusive thought, concept of a safety dress that one feels comfortable in, a mention that reader might be comparing her body to the bodies of others, uh dresses? little rusty writing so early seasons Spencer may be a little OOC but he's a sweetie

-

You tugged at the dress that you wore. It didn’t fit right. That’s all you could see, all you could feel. It didn’t look right either. No amount of tugging would crease out the pudge that was your tummy. You sigh and start looking for your safety dress that you were sure would still fit fine (or at least it might be looser).

You didn’t even hear Spencer come into your bedroom. He already had his suit and tie on, looking as uncomfortable as you felt. His gaze flits over your body before refocusing on the back of your head.

Neither one of you was particularly excited about this FBI Gala but the presence of every member of the BAU was mandatory. And being Spencer’s girlfriend, naturally he’d asked you to be his date so he could at least have his comfort with him at this stuffy event.

He cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Looking for something…dear?” He was still trying out terms of endearment for you, determined to find a set of ones that felt right. Dear felt very formal and safe. He never imagined himself being able to call you "babygirl".

You sigh and look back at him. “This one dress.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, squinting for a second as his mind processes that information and his response. “What’s wrong with the one you have on?”

It was a simple question. So why did it make you wanna shrink? You pause for a long time. Too long, because he speaks up again.

“Have I said something wrong?” He had taken to asking this question when you paused for a long time. He knew you were probably just trying to articulate your thoughts but he very much was afraid of offending you. He wasn’t used to relationships. Professional relationships were difficult enough for him to navigate on some level so a personal, romantic relationship was still mostly uncharted territory where he’d rather not veer into choppy waters.

“No…I just…wanna try a different dress on.”

“That one’s fine.” He still doesn’t understand why you need another dress when you’d already put one on.

Fine. The word echoed in your mind. You knew he hadn’t meant it condescendingly. You knew he was being honest. And you loved him but you yearned for a moment when a man saw you in a dress and his brain just went “gorgeous”. Spencer, of course, hadn't gotten a good enough reign on the sails just yet to be there in the relationship. And you recognized this and loved his genuine awkward charm. But you still wished he wasn’t so…clinically honest sometimes. Because it didn't always hit as sweet.

“It’s just one other dress.”

He switches gears. “Can I help you look?”

“I swear it was in here.”

“If you just-”

If I were just thinner, I wouldn’t need my safety dress. Fuck off intrusive thought!

You huff louder than necessary (cutting Spencer off) and you stop searching.

“Is something wrong?” Spencer is getting more concerned now. He takes a step towards you. He was pleased that he could fairly easily switch to “my person’s sad, must fix” mode. He thought he’d blunder more when it came to that particular aspect of a romantic relationship.

You don’t answer right away. He assumes the answer is "yes" but has also learned not to say that he assumes that.

“Can you tell me if something is? Please?” His voice softens like it does sometimes and he looks at you with those stupid hazel puppy dog eyes.

You look at him and know instantly that he sincerely just wants to know what’s up with you. You’d already had a very deep conversation about honesty in the relationship so you know it doesn’t do either of you any good to maintain that you’re fine.

“I don’t want you to think I’m being…” you trail off.

���Hey, I won’t think you’re anything you’re afraid of, ok? I promise.”

“You don’t know what I’m gonna say.”

“You’re not "stupid". You’re not a "child". You’re not "too sensitive". I promise what you feel is valid. And I intend to treat it as such.”

You knew he was right. You knew he’d never make fun of you.

“I don’t like this dress on my body.” That was both harder and easier to say than you thought it would be.

He processes for a second. And then asks the simple question: “why not?” which has a simple answer…right?

Your first instinct is to say “because I look fat in it” but you stop yourself from saying that because you think you sound “like a complaining woman”. Your next thought is that Spencer’s first thought will not be: “Jesus, I don’t wanna hear anymore.”.

“I don’t like how my stomach looks.” You rephrase and clarify.

He looks down. That’s simply his first instinct. Your stomach looks like it’s looked like the entire time he’s known you (a year or so at this point). He doesn’t want to keep asking the same question over and over again. But he knows “you look fine” isn’t generally accepted by women as an answer so he knows that won’t fix the problem.

“What’s different about it?” He asks instead.

This gives you pause. “N-Nothing…” you’re forced to answer/admit.

“Does it not fit right? Does it feel too tight?” Your comfort. That’s what he’s concerned about. You were so afraid he’d just say “yeah? You’re fat.” even if he didn’t see it as a bad thing, that still might be triggering to hear. But his line of thinking is so far from that.

“It just…shows too much,”

“But it’s covering…” he pauses, knowing that line of thinking isn’t correct. “you don’t like how you look..” he reaches a hand out to almost touch your stomach but he stops short of it. “I still don’t understand what’s wrong with the dress.”

He hated unsolved mysteries (the mysteries themselves, he had nothing against Robert Stack personally) and he hated not having things figured out. He hated being confused but trying to navigate a relationship often left him feeling like he was up a creek without an oar.

You cup your stomach, hoping he’ll understand. He does not.

“That’s your stomach…”

“The dress is too small.” You try to clarify for him.

“Is it? Is it supposed to fit so…snuggly?”

“Who knows? I just know I’d feel better in my safety dress.”

“Safety dress?” He questions.

You freeze. You’d never told him about it.

“What’s that?” He asks, inquisitive as ever.

“It’s uh…a dress I look…and feel good in.”

“As opposed to…the dress you have on now?”

You avert your gaze and nod. He isn’t the type to grab chins and force people to look at them so he doesn’t do that.

“Sweetie? Can you look at me? Please?” He instead requested softly. Sweetie made sense because you were so sweet.

You meet his gaze and it’s as soft and warm as ever.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll help you find your safety dress but I need you to know that you look beautiful as you are now.” He swapped fine with beautiful because he felt the emphasis was necessary.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No. I’m not. I could walk out that door right now with you and be happy to have you at my side. You don’t need to be wearing any particular dress. I don’t care about the dress, I care about the person wearing it.”

“Th-Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. We both know we’d both rather be in comfortable clothes watching Star Trek tonight than going to this…Gala. I wouldn’t have asked you to suffer it with me but…I really want you there with me. It’s so many people and so much…pressure.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“You’d be in fuzzy pj pants right now if it weren’t for me.”

“Hey, no. It’s not your fault.”

“I kind of feel like it is. I don’t want you to go if you’re just gonna be uncomfortable all night.”

He starts to search for the dress, very determined to help you be comfortable.

“Could you describe the dress to me?”

“I-It’s uh…black…short sleeves, it’s got a satin body with a ruffle on the end and lace details over that.”

He looks back at you quizzically. “That’s your safety dress?”

“It doesn’t look like what you’re imagining.” You joke lightly.

“How do you know what I’m imagining?”

“Some sexy little number?”

“Some…cute little number…” He clarifies.

“There! Don’t move your hand! That’s it!” You point.

Spencer pulls the dress out. It’s black. It’s got short sleeves. It’s got lace details all over and the “body” or main part under the lace is black satin or silk. It’s knee length.

“Do you feel more comfortable in this dress?” He asked as he passed it to you.

“We’ll see.” You struggle to unzip the dress you currently had on. “Help? Please?”

He puts the dress on the bed. He comes up behind you to unzip the dress. You shimmy out of the dress. It falls to pool around your ankles. You pop the safety dress over your head. 

You look at yourself in the mirror. You sigh. "No...it's too short...and it's not fancy enough..."

Spencer is just looking at you. He isn't saying anything. He's just admiring how you look in the dress.

"What do you think?" You ask Spencer as you run your hand over your stomach in the dress.

Spencer doesn't immediately respond. He's distracted by the skin that's showing.

"Spencer?"

"Hmm?" He meets your gaze.

"I asked you a question."

"Oh...sorry." He smiles, shaking his head. "What was your question?"

"Do you think this dress is appropriate for the Gala? Or should I find something longer?"

"Well I uh..." He trails off, not really knowing what is and wasn't Gala appropriate (he hadn't been informed and assumed you'd know so he hadn't asked).

"Oh! Wait! I know...I have this longer green dress..."

You look through your closet again to find it. Spencer distracts himself from checking you out while your back is turned.

"I found it!" You proclaim. "Size 10, ok...should be ok..."

"Size 10 is fine." Spencer hears himself say.

"Wish it were a 12."

"Hey...don't say that. Try it on. I bet you look just as pretty. Because...you always look pretty."

You smile before you change dresses. Spencer respectfully averts his gaze so he isn't checking you out in your underwear. But he looks back when you're situating the green dress out.

"Wow...definitely more...Gala. I especially like the um...outer layer? Is that what it's called?"

"I wouldn't kn-"

"Overlay!" He interrupts. "Sorry." He says sheepishly.

"That's a good word for it." You smile.

"It's really pretty. Y-You're...really pretty. The dress is pretty on you. You look pretty in the dress." He blushes slightly like he's embarrassed he seemingly couldn't settle on what to say, so he'd just said every variation he could think of (because it was all true).

"You really don't have to say all that, you know."

"Why not? Why can't I? Why shouldn't I?" He was genuinely curious as to why he couldn't compliment his girlfriend. That's what a boyfriend did, wasn't it?

"You can just say I look nice."

"But what if I feel more and I want to articulate that to you?" It was a simple question.

And it makes you pause, because you’d never before considered that he might want to wax poetic about your beauty.

"I'm not lying to you." He reassures.

"I-I know..." You nod.

"Do you?" He queries, but not in a condescending way. "Do you truly understand that I'm not just saying nice things to make you feel good? Do you comprehend that what I tell you is truly how I feel?"

"I guess I'm just not used to receiving compliments."

"Not used to receiving them or unwilling to accept the genuine ones as being genuine?" Because there was a distinction.

"Th-The latter, I guess." You say softly, averting your gaze to the floor.

"Can you look at me please?" He requests softly.

You look into his hazel eyes and see nothing but genuine admiration and affection for you.

"Do you believe that I love you?"

"Yes." You hesitate for only a second.

"That's good." He doesn’t mention the hesitation. “And would you believe me if I told you that I believe that you look beautiful in any dress you put on?”

“Yes. I believe that you believe that.”

“What do I have to do to make you believe that?” He asks softly, genuinely.

“I-I don’t know…”

He sighs. He steps closer to you. “You have looked beautiful in all three dresses I’ve seen you in.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just be on my arm and look pretty.”

You share a look. That sounded weird coming out of his mouth to the both of you. You share a smile.

“Arm candy.” He muses. “That doesn’t do justice to all that you are to me.”

"It doesn't?"

"Not even close."

"What do I mean to you?"

"So much. I could have a million years and I still would not be able to find the words to describe how much you mean to me, or to describe what you mean to me."

"What am I to you?"

"I truly believe you are my person. I walk into a room you're already in and nothing else matters. All I see is you. And you are...beautiful to me. Does that help explain why it doesn't matter what dress you wear or no matter how many other women are around you, I only focus on you? No one compares to you. I enjoy your company. You enjoy mine. Being with you just...feels so easy and effortless. From the minute we met, you were just...easy. You're easy to talk to, easy to be around, easy to touch. I had never warmed so fast to a person. And you know what it was that hooked me?"

"What?" You manage to ask after being awestruck but his words.

"Not your body, well, nothing below your face. It was your eyes, your smile. So...kind and sweet..."

"Spencer..." You say softly, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

"You're my person, my perfect puzzle piece."

You hug him and he hugs you right back, adoring the way your body fit against his. His arms wrap around you as he holds you to him, his chin tucking in on your shoulder.

"I love you." He whispers softly.

"I love you too." You say back.

"We should go. We're gonna be late." He goes to pull away from you.

"Can you hold me for just another minute? Please?"

"We can be late. Five minutes."

"Thank you."

He buries his face in your neck, smelling your hair.

"You smell like home."

[adoraflush]

—— ❝𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺｡｡ ❞𓂃۶ৎ. field of flowers.

요약 ､ ᝰ.ᐟ • Being Damian’s assistant since day 1 you knew how to clean cuts, and now it was his turn.

𝜗𝜚 Damian Wayne x f! reader .ᐟ.ᐟ 𝒾nfo ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა wc. 1.485k bruises and cuts ( knife wound ) being taken care of, part of the series fr, also the reader wears glasses it could be prescribed or not, a bit ooc, flushed here means flustered presently not like pink rosy cheeks..Dick getting yelled at and being a cockblocker. blue thoughts 🫐 ➤ this has been so many ideas in one I’m not even joking

⋆ ⋮ 2ND PERSON ᝰ.ᐟ

Being on missions with Damian is hard, he’s reckless but he knows how to hold a front. But being on missions with his family, that’s a whole disaster waiting to happen at every moment. Luckily you and Alfred were the glue that held that family together, keeping everyone sane in different ways. So when you get sent out to help Damian with a mission you didn’t think much of it, only that you were strictly there to help them; get in and get out right? That’s most definitely not what happened, in a short recap you were simply fighting with Dick as Damian was doing something else ordering that Dick should keep you safe.

Practically you were taught how to fight, and of course have good reflexes, but you previously came back from being sick for a while so to put it blatantly Damian had everyone walking around eggshells. Making sure you were good and safe, well taken care of, supervised every hour of the day. He wasn’t like this when you two were younger but frankly he’s now making up for lost time, as Alfred would put it “he’s showing how much he cares for you, you are important to his life”. So when fighting with Dick, you get bruised and a few cuts happen but nothing bad, right?

Until Dick missed and accidentally hit you on the other side, a knife from wherever he got it from. Being hit by a knife felt, enticing to say the least. It’s not the worst you’ve been hit by, and at least it was on the side of your arm. You’ve been hurting all week everywhere being sick, so being who you were shrugged it off. But, Damian noticed, Dick noticed, actually everyone noticed. When it means everyone, literally everyone. Of course, the people responsible for all of the trouble caused that day ran off and away, leaving with Jason and Dick to take care of it as they knew Damian would take care of you. Before Dick had left he mumbled a little sorry, patting the side of your arm that was stabbed.

Painful, ouch, he wast trying to be nice but didn’t have enough time and didn’t think it through. Without a thought Damian immediately took you up, carrying you, giving you a piggy back ride. He couldn’t care less that your blood was dripping everywhere on him, he needed to get you home, stat. The silence was grueling of course, he didn’t even and you to waste your breath on speaking, one of these moments if it was dire it would’ve probably said “keep your mouth shut and maybe I’ll reward you later” never realizing how wrong that sounded. Reaching the Wayne manor, Damian immediately rushed you to his room sitting you down getting the med kit you always kept in his room for emergencies.

Of course he was probably uttering swears that most couldn’t understand, but you could even if you didn’t speak his language. It would make sense for him to be angry at you. You were reckless and didn’t dodge when you saw a knife, only standing there. “Habibti, you got hurt. I hate to see you hurt.” He made out small words every now and then removing the knife gently cleaning and disinfecting the wound. You could only look away too much agony to watch.

“I’m sorr—” he immediately cut your sentence off, not even letting you finishing your words as if he knew what you were going to say. “I’m not mad at you, why would I be mad at you? I’m mad at someone who I call brother, I’m mad that I trusted him to take care of you whilst I was doing something. I shouldn’t have put you in danger knowing you’ve been sick and tired. I should be saying sorry, not you, habibti.” He gently caressed your damaged arm, it now being fully clean still out of form and "ugly" to say the least. You aren’t shocked that’s for sure, Damian said a lot of stuff like that to you, he always let his guard down fully no matter what around you; other people he couldn’t bear to do that around. You were his assistant you were his best friend and even more.

“I love that you take care of me Damie, I do, I love you such much for that..” you had mumbled the last bit of the confessional to yourself even though he could probably hear it. He only scoffed a bit, he was never one to accept love. Love to him was a sacrifice that was made once and once only. You were his sacrifice in this moment.

“I care about you of course, you’re my assistant, I wouldn’t know what to do in my life without you.” The last bit of it was most definitely an exaggeration, he could live without you. But would he try is different, he liked you and the presence that you carry with him. It broke your heart a tiny bit, him not confessing it back of course. Did this midnight rendezvous mean nothing? Everything to him meant something, he just didn’t know how to express it or explain it. “Take off your shirt, I know your hurt there too.” Suddenly as you took off your shirt, you stopped in your tracks.

“Why’d you stop?” All those words he said all the time, sounded so vulgar as if he was craving you, but of course not he wasn’t. “I’d rather do it myself, it’s more comfortable..” obviously that kind of hurt him, but he has a good argument coming tugging at the bottom hem of your shirt. “Habibti, you have seen me with less than a shirt on, and the same goes for you, I’ve seen you in less.” This made the gears of your brain start shifting and turning in all the wrong ways. He obviously loved teasing you like this but you couldn’t tell if he was being serious, he wasn’t wrong at saying you’ve seen each other in less for no wrong reasons of course; but at the same time there’s moments.

“Don’t say it like that.” You were quick to react back, knowing he didn’t get certain things. He wasn’t innocent he just didn’t understand the concept of you perceiving it differently. He ended up just taking the shirt off, of course giving you a look consent. He wasn’t an animal, he wouldn’t shift you out of your comfort zone. You had a few cuts there not a lot just a few, unlucky of him to be so tall he would have to bend down taking care of the cuts that way. He kneeled in between your thighs, your hands slowly creeping to his hair gently massaging it.

There wasn’t a lot of times where he looked like an utter mess, mentally and physically. He looked like an utter mess taking care of you that’s him loving you. As he was finishing applying ointment on your cuts he took a minute to look up at you, at your full face that couldn’t seem to form one expression. He looked at your eyes, being framed by your glasses, a pretty display he would like to call it. Your lips, delicate and to him he already knew they were soft there was no doubt about that. Oh and not to mention how elegant your factual structure was to him, you meant everything just sitting there and looking all flushed. Intimate moments like these didn’t happen often, it was sad genuinely. Just as you were about to caress his face the door came bursting open, it was Dick Grayson.

“I am so sorry, obviously you’ve came back from being sick and now you’re in a vulnerable position, I just wanted to say I’m truly sorry for what I did.” Without even realizing what you and his little brother were doing he kept rambling until he just stopped, utterly stopped. He was waiting for Damian’s response, and it was obvious "get out" and so he did. Now it was just you and him and whatever awkward silence was left behind to muster in the air. “Habibti, go to bed, I’ll bring you something to drink. Alfred will come in here soon to check your wounds.” All you could do was mutter a small yes and move on. As Damian had walked out, you heard the door close and lock keeping you trapped in there with only his belongings as it was his room. What an utter annoyance right?

Until you heard that Damian was yelling at Dick with all kinds of swears, he couldn’t care less if you heard him, frankly he was still peeved that his brother ruined any chances of making out with you in that moment. At the end of the day let’s just say there was a bit of tension during dinner.

[brain4stew]

Can you do reader who's just socially awkward like REALLY REALLY awkward at doing convos and whenever they tried they felt forced and talk like an npc,reader likes to observe people from afar,even spooking some others whenever reader pops outta nowhere..(with noobs,007n7,twotime,builderman's reaction to it) it aint even mysterious it's just straight up SAD(me fr)

OMG NO, I FULLY UNDERSTAND THIS… With having social anxiety and all that…

BUT ANYWAY, I’ll see what I can do with your request!

(Again, I don’t know the characters exact personalities and so on, so they might, if not most likely will be OOC!!)

That being said, headcanons/something is under the cut!! ;

(Noob)

• Ah, Noob… The little scared guy… He’s confused by you at first, but shrugs it off as you being weary of people. (Which is somewhat true.)

• Noob has tried to talk to you, countless times, but became embarrassed after your responses…

• In the lobbies, he sees you in the corner of his eyes, and quite literally jumps a little and flinches. (Why are you just standing there, staring, from a distance??)

• In rounds, of course Noob is still on edge, due to the killer. But also because of you, as you scared them countless times, appearing out of literally thin air. (WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!)

• Overtime, they found out you were just extremely awkward and anxious around people! (They automatically assumed you had social anxiety…)

• Noob took it upon themselves to help you, and stay by you. (Even if you spook the ever living spirit out of him.)

(007n7)

• He was concerned and confused by you. Why don’t you interact as much? (Not that he minds it, he already had a kid that has WAY too much energy…)

• He has talked to you a few times, (mainly him talking to you about C00lkidd, while you listen to him), but that’s basically all, as he, got embarrassed by your responses and so.

• Eventually he understands you, and stays by you, just as a silent reminder that, you aren’t alone.

• In rounds, he’s anxious, cautious and nervous. But, he goes to find you, just to see how you’re doing. (Father instincts alert…)

• He carries a medkit with him, (which he spawned by coincidentally…) in case you need it. (What about Elliot, good sir?? 🤨)

• You are constantly doing generator’s, to decrease the time of the rounds. (And because you want the money.) You even body block some of the killers attacks, when they’re going for Elliot. (You end up severely injured… But, Elliot is thankful for you body blocking him, and he heals you when he has his pizza ready.)

• After each round, 007n7 INSISTS on taking care of you and your wounds. Scolding you and telling you to be more careful. (Atp he sees you as a reckless child… Like C00lkidd… Smh.)

• 007n7 basically just… Adopted you in his mind. Even if you don’t talk much, or interact with anyone that much.

(Two Time)

• They understand you QUICKLY.

• They don’t interact much with others either, nor do they talk much.

• Sometimes, they get their courage up a bit, to stand a bit closer to you… (Before they eventually go away out of embarrassment and worry.)

• In rounds, they immediately go to find a medkit for Elliot. They found one of course but uh… You accidentally scared them, as you were doing a generator nearby. (Insert their tail stiffening and their pose being a bit… Cartoonish.)

• They stood by you for a while as you were doing your generator, in case the killer is nearby. (They accidentally scared you too when you were done…)

• After many rounds, Two Time gathers up their courage again, and actually talks to you, for quite a while. (You both somehow, and strangely enough have lots of the same interests, and worries and so.)

• Two Time decided that you’re their #1 *cough* sorry *cough* #2 best friend there and then. They enjoy your company, even if you both don’t talk much or interact much.

(Builderman)

• Builderman… Let’s just say that he has information about everyone, hell, even the killers. He is of course, the 2nd(?) in charge of the game Roblox anyway.

• He’s not that surprised that you don’t talk much, or interact with anyone. He has your information after all.

• However, he did not expect you to accidentally jump scare him, as you were watching him fix a device.

• In rounds, he’s putting down his Sentry when he’s doing a generator nearby, or he puts it somewhere where the killer will get distracted by another survivor.

• He also puts down a dispenser where it’s somewhat hidden, yet easy to maneuver around, in case of the killer being nearby and attacking.

• You did… Accidentally scare him when he was doing a generator… He actually thought you were the killer, due to how quiet you are.

• He did gesture for you to do the generator with him, so it’s less time to fix it, and the time can be decreased quicker.

• He did occasionally ask you for some help due to him being… Well… Old. And forgetting how to fix the generators, which, you actually helped him with. (Even if you just silently poked your finger at the generator, and drawing an “invisible air line” for him.)

• After rounds, he asked you if you wanted to learn how to heal survivors after rounds, and to fix devices, and items a like. Which, you accepted.

• You actually opened up to him after a while, seeing him as a comfort person. Someone you can actually trust and talk to, and not be too worried about. (Well, unless you worry about his health and age due to how old this guy is…)

I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK LIKE WHAT SEEMS LIKE AGES. MY BRAIN IS LEGIT JUST MUSH AT THIS POINT.

[yelenasbraid]

good enough — joe burrow

summary — ‘we’re not good enough’ is starting to sound and feel like ‘i’m not good enough’ for joe

warnings — fem!reader, whole lotta angst, mentions of panic/not feeling great, takes place after the game against the eagles, lots of italics so sorry, maybe some ooc joe?? halfway proofread so don’t come for me.

note — i listened to the song j’s lullaby (darlin’ i’d wait for you) by delaney bailey and whewww it fueled the angst

ANOTHER FUMBLE RECOVERY. another turnover. another at-home loss. he couldn’t fight this game anymore, he couldn’t fight the refs, he couldn’t deny the very blatant fact that they weren’t good enough.

so he sat, watching jake perform the last moments of the game. he watched as they lost, the score 37-17. he knew the stakes coming into the game. the eagles were a prominent team, a good opponent. he was expecting a good game out of it, not a blowout.

the post-game press conference was going to be a nightmare.

what kept him sane as he walked in the tunnel wasn’t a thing or an event, it was a person. you. he knew you watched the entire thing, he knew you’d be upset, as was he. he also knew that if one person said the wrong thing he’d snap.

he just needed to see you. just for one second.

he walked into the tunnel, his head hanging as cameras flashed. he clenched his fists; they wanted a picture of this?

“joe,” he picked up his to the sound of your voice, and if he didn’t know better, he would have collapsed right then and there. he walked up to you, putting the rest of the energy he had into his getting to you. he gently wrapped his arms around you, inhaling your perfume, reveling in your warmth.

you pulled apart from him like gum from the concrete; he didn’t want to let you go. he didn’t want to go to the press conference and face the failures, his failures.

“don’t you dare go there,” you gently warned, your voice like a cool stream over a sore wound. your hands held his clenched fists, which eventually opened to envelop yours. you were right, but it was too late; he was already there.

“i’ll see you at home,” he swallowed. his eyes twitched, the glass beneath them shattering as he made eye contact with you. he took a breath; he was not going to lose it.

“i love you,” you reminded him, letting go of his hands.

“i love you,” he hummed, mustering up some energy to offer you a smile. to you, it just looked like a more relaxed expression. he trailed off, being whisked away by staffers. he gave you one last look before he disappeared to the locker rooms.

—

his drive home was silent. his hands wrung the steering wheel as the conference played over in his mind.

“we’re not good enough, we’re not good enough. we gotta get better,”

“we gotta take responsibility for how we’re playing individually,”

“i don’t think anybody was good enough today,”

the underlying message that the reporters didn’t catch, thankfully, was that he wasn’t good enough. he should have been better. it was all his fault.

you’d catch it though. he knew you saw through him the moment you saw him. he loved it about you, that he didn’t have to say anything for you to get him. it wasn’t always the case, but it was this time.

he pulled into the driveway, throwing the car into park and sitting there for a moment. he stared at the wall of the garage, losing himself in the defeat and disappointment of the night. he blinked, throwing himself out of whatever funk he was in, and shut the car off. his body ached, his head was heavy, and all he wanted to do was sleep. it was only 6 pm; going to bed now wouldn’t hurt right?

he grabbed his bag and walked up into the house. he opened the door to the smell of vanilla and woodsmoke, his eyes directed to a candle that was lit in the kitchen. he didn’t see you in the living room or the kitchen, and for a second he thought you’d left. he swallowed, nerves bubbling in his gut as he kicked his shoes off by the door.

“babe?” he called, his voice hoarse and scratchy. his expression relaxed as he heard you pad down the stairs, seeing you in sweats and a t-shirt.

“hey,” you smiled, coming off the stairs. you crossed your arms over your chest, watching as joe stood there. he didn’t know what to do, clearly this game proved that. he just wasn’t good enough. the voices from past recruiters filled his mind as he zoned out again, whispering sweet lies to him about his performance.

he’d never be good enough.

there’s always someone better.

he wasn’t even good enough for you.

his breath hitched as he focused on you, the world around him coming back into focus.

“what?” he cleared his throat, seeing the confused expression on your face.

“i asked if you were hungry,” you repeated. seeing him this dazed worried you, especially given the circumstances.

“don’t really have an appetite,” he responded, moving past you and towards the stairs. his emotions were a sour cocktail, and he was tired of it being the only thing settling in his stomach. he wanted you told hold him, to comfort him, but he also needed to figure out what exactly happened out there. his brain was leaning towards finding a solution, even if there was no use in the state he was in.

“i figured,” you hummed, letting him stroll past you up the stairs, “i’ll be here when you’re ready,” you added. you’d wait for him, all day every day. you’d let him go through his process, do his routine, and he’d come back to you. he always did.

joe paused on the stairs, something stopping him. he didn’t know what it was, maybe it was your voice in his head breaking through the noise, telling him to not shut you out. maybe it was your divine-like patience. you always made time for his moods and his failures. did he make time for you? amidst his struggles, did he ever take a second to make time for your moods and your struggles? was he being a good boyfriend?

“baby?”

“why are you still here?” he asked you, his tone sharp, despite him meaning to sound that way.

“what?” his tone caught you off guard, making you rapidly blink to help you process.

“you should leave,” he continued, “you…” he was panicking. why was he pushing you away? he needed you.

“what are you talking about?” your fear struck you, but you still fought yourself. he couldn’t mean what you thought he meant, right? you swallowed, watching as he battled himself. watching as his eyes avoided yours, as his fists unclenched and then clenched again. he was shaking too.

“you’re always here for me, when have i ever been there for you?” he asked, “i’m not a good boyfriend, i’m not a good quarterback,”

“joe, stop,” your voice stopped him, a stern expression reminding him much of his mother. while you were serious, there was undoubtedly a kind warmth behind your eyes. he panted, his eyes filling with hot tears.

as silence sat between you, joe’s breathing lessened. he walked back down the stairs, dropping his bag at the foot of them. he stood there, deflated, as you approached him. you took his face in your hands, feeling warm tears hit your fingers. your thumbs whisked them away, trying to give joe some semblance of comfort during a time where there wasn’t much of it.

joe wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. he pulled you in close, the weight on his chest lessening as he let you pull him in. he let your warmth take him over, spreading like a wildfire over his bones. he felt your fingers through his hair, your hands running down his back. you were the personification of comfort and safety, and he was trying so hard to drink it all in.

“you are not a bad boyfriend,” you hummed, and in response he squeezed you tighter, “you’re not a bad quarterback,” you added, running your hands down his back. he pulled away from you as tears fell from his eyes. he wiped them away with the palm of his hand.

“how?”

“do you remember that time i was followed by some guy? i called you, and without any hesitation you answered and came to help me,”

“that’s just what a boyfriend is supposed to do,”

“hold on, i’ve got more,” you patted his chest, “the time when my mom had a cancer scare. you left practice early every day to make sure not only that i was ok, but if i needed anything. the time i got promoted at work and you surprised me with my friends over for dinner. the time i was spiraling so badly after a bad encounter with someone at work you picked me up, made me a delicious dinner, and made sure i felt appreciated and loved,” you listed them off, and there were many more. you guys weren’t perfect, by any means, but he was enough. he’d always be enough.

“you’re a good quarterback. if you don’t want to look at the numbers, look at your heart. you have such a passion for these young guys, for the vets. you lead them well and confidently, you make sure they know they’re appreciated and give them their first game ball if necessary, like you did with andrei. but because none of us are perfect, we make mistakes, but it makes us better. it doesn’t define you as a person,” you continued. you watched the gears turn, and while it would take some time for joe to see that himself, he knew you were right. he knew what you were talking about, he saw what you saw, and it calmed the frayed nerves in his body.

“i don’t deserve you,” he whispered, “i really don’t,”

“you deserve the world, joe burrow,” you countered, giving him a soft smile. he gave you one back, sniffling.

“i’m sorry for telling you to leave, i just…i don’t know,”

“i know, just don’t push me away. i’m not here to make things worse for you, i hope you know that,” you allowed a laugh at your last words, making joe chuckle too.

“i know that,” he agreed.

“don’t push me away,” you repeat, resting your hand on his chest, it movie with the rise and fall of his chest.

“i won’t,”

“good,” you smiled, “now, i say it’s time for a comfort show,” you grinned, which made his face light up. the both of you walked over to the couch, sitting down on the plush white cushions. you settled a blanket across your lap, while joe grabbed a blanket of his own, laying his head in your lap.

“spongebob?” he turned his head up to look at you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“sure thing, squidward,” you teased, kissing him on the nose. you turned it on, then nestling into your spot on the couch. you ran your fingers through joe’s hair, occasionally catching his neck before going back into his hair. joe melted into you, cuddling into your warmth and your safety. he watched the episode, giggling at a couple parts, but the most important thing is that he was with you. that you were the glue that held him together. the feeling of your hands in his hair sent prickles down his spine, and in a good and comforting way. every prickle sent warmth across his body, relaxing his taut muscles.

you bent down and kissed his temple.

“i love you, joe burrow,” you hummed.

“i love you more, y/n l/n,” he hummed back. it wasn’t too long before sleep bid him closer, and took over his body. he slumped into you, his soft breaths telling you he fell asleep. you kissed him again, smiling against his warm skin. he was safe and he was loved, and that’s all that mattered.

joey looked so sad after the game 🥺 hopefully this makes a bit better. ALSO! i do have a couple more fics lined up that might be released this week so STAY TUNED!! i just wanted to write an angsty fic ngl

tags: @wickedfun9 @joeyfranchise

[kayiieu]

₊ ⊹ ๋࣭⭑ good luck charm

0.7k words

fluff probably ooc sae shidou mention !

one of the most meaningful gifts you ever gave sae were two bracelets–if you could even call them that. they were two bands–one black and one white–that could be slipped on and off easily. you wanted to give him something that was convenient for him to wear, as he was a busy soccer player.

you had your own pairs as well, also black and white. you decided to gift them the night before a decisive match between Re Al and Barcha.

“sae, can i give you something? it’s kind of like a good luck charm…” you asked softly. sae looked up from his book, giving you a curious look.

he hummed in response, intrigued. “mm, sure.”

you reached towards to table next to you, in your hands a small drawstring bag. “i was out a couple of days ago and bought these matching bracelets,” you said, opening the bag.

you reached in, fishing them out. “i don’t know if you’ll like them, but uh– i made sure they’d be convenient for you to wear. and um– i didn’t know if you’d like black or white, so i got you both…” you trailed off.

you handed him the bracelets, letting sae pick. he examined both the black and white pairs before answering, “we can just wear both colors?”

sae watched your eyes light up, your head nodding. he held the black and white bracelets before sliding them onto his right wrist. you tried them on as well, the material comfortable on your skin.

“thank you, dear,” he said, a small smile peeking through. “i’m sure i’ll play well tomorrow, thanks to these.”

you giggle at his response, “you always play well, sae.”

1 minute and 17 seconds left until the referee’s whistle blows, and the match is over. 1 minute and 17 seconds left to turn a tie of 3-3 to a win of 4-3. you sit on the stands, a seat close to the field, your body jittery with anticipation. Barcha is still in possession of the ball, and time is ticking down.

you can tell by the look on his face that sae is fiending for a goal. luckily enough, sae’s teammate guards the opposing player, successfully stealing the ball away. the ball is then passed to sae swiftly, and he controls the ball with skill.

sae turns, his pace quickening. with only 45 seconds left on the clock, and being close enough to the penalty box, he takes a shot, the ball forming an extraordinary arch in the air. the goal occurs at an insane angle, one only itoshi sae could pull off.

the crowd breaks into cheers, and the whistle signifing the end of the match blows moments after. sae’s teammates pile on top of him before he can push them all off, cheering for him.

sae never has celebrations for a goal, but this time, he raises his right arm and looks up at the stands to you, smiling brightly. the bracelets seem to reflect the fluorescent lights of the stadium, twinkling.

you smile back at sae and wave, your two bracelets peeking out.

bonus content !

after a long day of practice, sae’s jersey sticks to his skin uncomfortably, the stuffy atmosphere of the locker room not improving his mood. with his body drenched in sweat, all he wants is to take a shower and go home back to you. he’s quick with changing out of his jersey, pulling his shirt and sweats back on. his bracelets are on the bench behind him, resting on top of his backpack.

shidou walks into the locker room last, opening up his locker that was conveniently assigned next to sae’s. shidou glances back at the bench before asking, “yo, sae. i’ve always meant to ask, but what’s with those bracelets? they from your girl or what?”

sae replies snarkily, “piss off. it’s none of your business, roach.” he reaches behind and gently slides the bracelets back onto his wrist before slamming his locker door shut.

shidou laughs in response, “hey, no need to get all defensive! guess i was right, huh?”

sae doesn’t respond, though his ears are tinged with pink. he packs up as quickly as he can before trudging out the locker room with his backpack and gear slung over his shoulder, ignoring shidou’s obnoxious teasing.

happy birthday to the one and only itoshi sae !! i rly hope sae wasn’t too ooc ( first time writin for him !! ) & i hope the match wasn’t too boring jsjhshj,,, apparently,, Re Al and Barcha are rivaling teams, and even tho i’m a Barcha fan thru n thru, i had to make Re Al win this one </3 hehe as always thank u all for reading this far & have a great day/night !! i luv u babies ^.^

tags : @egoistars @laughingfcx

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

National Showdown!

Summary: In which, the students of RSA had caught a rumor of a magicless prefect from another world staying in... NRC!?!?!?? Now you, reader are about to experience a whole ass Rollercoaster with these guys. So much chaos running around, declarations of love being thrown around, and unspoken yearning from their hidden heart almost boils over and accidentally spills over. Which, you almost caught them. (But, you didn't. Since you're too busy holding in your sanity from being thrown into an RSA boy and another so forth.) [💋VERSION1]

A/n: Okay, so idk what I'm doing. My writing is ass. Please forgive me, my angels. 🙏🙏🙏 like this is prolly my second post abt Twst (the other posts are just me talking random sht) and although, it isn't as good as the other writers I look up too, please note this is my first time writing and that expectations make me nervous 🙏 Again, forgive me for my dumbass that may get lost in this fic.

💋⚠️⁉️(Warnings!): Too much love and jealousy in the air, OOC (maybe), some bad Grammer (I just KNOW that ima write smth wrong here), Vil probably internally losing his shit bc the reader got kidnapped, Floyd is abt to fcking implode Royal Swords Academy, Jade is prolly thinking of hiring hitmans (but ultimately decides not to, bc he maybe one himself), everyone at NRC is plotting assassinations for the RSA students (excluding scarabia, Kalim might get ptsd from this, mb gang), ima add my own RSA characters bc I don't wanna use other people's RSA OCs without permission (but if you don't mind, I want to add the princesses' and princes' and other side characters that ppl had already taken as inspiration if you don't mind), this sht is getting long so, LOTS OF CUSSING BC I DONT HAVE A CLEAN MOUTH (or I just can't go without it), lots of fluff, no suggestive sht allowed in this account (Maybe in other accs if I'm up for it), good luck, reader. (USE OF [NAME] ‼️‼️)

🪷Angel of the beginning (your here) Angel of Journey 🪽->

Okay so maybe it wasn't a good idea to take a selfie with Cater and let him post it in Magicam. Why? One (if you haven't read this then I'm pretty sure you should! Or not, and you can ignore this, bby🫶), you decided to remove your mask and take ONE selfie with him, ONE. Second, you didn't know he'd send this in PUBLIC, with so many pretty photos of women and men alike in that God-forsaken social media platform. Third, you already had Night-motherfucking-Raven COLLAGE to deal with. Like college boys who r still immature (exception for a few [maybe] and we'll be good), dealing with their bullshyte, while dealing with a headmage that refuses to take the big ass responsibility called "Overblot prevention", 5 missing essays, assignments, homework, paperwork that clearly should be dealt with by an adult, and having friends that acts weirdly around you whenever you do something nice for them.

But, in the end. You still cared, sure, you may not love them (or do you?), but you don't need to love them in order to care for them. Maybe, that's why they all (love) like you so much, so protective, and so caring in the end. (I'd like the twst characters to give the same treatment as the MC treated them yknow? A sweet treat for the Ramshackle Prefect) And on the other hand, they all loved and cared for you! I mean, who wouldn't? They want you to step out of your shell every once in a while, even if it's just for a breather. Your beautiful, inside and out. You don't need to appeal them physically, just your company is enough for them. But, oh, that photo that Cater posted on magicam? Yeah, everyone saw it, the entirety of NRC. Even Vil Scheonheit himself liked the post. It can't get crazier from then on, right?

...

WRONG.

You checked your old ass phone (and let's say you're mutual with Cater in Magicam, besides Ace and Deuce), to, not only to see your face ONLINE IN PUBLIC, but also seeing the amount of likes that specific photo of you, received. THAT IS A SHIT TON OF VIEWS OH SWEET *Mentions of your religion or a random ass word*. WHY? Okay, it can't be that bad! Like, at least your in a school, where no one from outside of it will get you, but you doubt that someone will kidnap you. Cause' like, for what? Ransom or smth? So, for funsies, you decided to check the comments that has like... 23.7k comments... holy gates that's a lot...

In the comments there were:

isukballz: Yoo, who's that pretty GAL/LAD/PERSON???

WifeyC0ll€cter: Wifey material, SPOTTED. ima kidnap this hot stuff, what's their @???

Fiendriding: Honey wake up!! Cay-cay just posted!!... WHO'S THAT PRETTY MAIDEN? (Ik it's suppose to be kept as gender neutral, but just pretend their calling you a Maiden despite your gender)

Snipping-Mens-banana: YO CAY-CAY HOW'D YOU PULL THIS BADDIE? MOVE ASIDE ITS MY TURN.

And so on with the topic being you and cater in this post only. And a shit ton of conspiracies and possibilities that maybe you and Cater might be dating. And speaking of Cater...

Someone just barged into your dorm.

"Heyy!~ [Name]-chan! Look at the amount of likes you got! See?? I told you that you'd get popular within seconds! And look! Your face is trending as well! Doubling your luck in social media, eh?~" a singy-songy voice comes scraping your ears like cheese cheddar. It was Cater. So of course, like the 'good' friend you are you greeted Cater (Maybe in a panic or not, you just need to make sure who liked that post containing your face with it prolly) and asked if he could show you the people that had liked the post (but I'm not letting 'you' say anything since I want YOU to imagine how YOU say it), so Cater showed you the likes from different user names. And most of them seemed terrifyingly familiar...

For example...

[Ace's username]

[Deuce's username]

Is that mf TREY? (Let's say Cater pestered him into getting the app in his phone so they can talk all the time. Oh, and yes Trey rlly did see the post and smiled. 🤫)

...And maybe when Cater snuck in Riddle's phone to get him an account as well... IS THAT RIDDLE'S ACCOUNT?

Leo0onak1ngsch00lar... (TF IS HE DOING HERE?)

__Howl_ [<- just pretend he places his last name in there along with random usernames]

Bucch1__shishi (I'm not good with these names bro, HELP)

Monstro_lounge-Official (Azul, wrong acc bro)

MushroomLoversClub🍄(Insert Jade's username bc I can't find anything creative)

I-will-dunkyouintothe-basketball-hoopLeech (Floyd what fucking name is that.)

[Imagine the rest of the main casts usernames, bro. I need to waste my energy on writing the rest of this fic.]

What the fuck. You really thought, that you wouldn't be that popular in just, JUST a few fucking minutes. But, I mean a logical part of you thinks that since this is a post from Cater, of course, everyone would be nice to you as well. Being his friend and all. And, just maybe, your friends liking this post because they wanted to show you some support (but Malleus can't use Magicam and was only shown that photo by Lilia) so, I guess it's not that bad that your quite popular online? (Atp your starting to believe your pretty by some chances since the comments was just boosting your [if non-existent] ego, so you were slightly happy from this) And actually? Maybe you liked the attention (or nah, your choice).

And, maybe. People do think you're pretty, in a romantic- platonic way(?).

Meanwhile, at Heartslabyul...

So maybe as soon as Cater had left (after a few chats and hangouts with you, just imagine bonding off-screen) he's just scrolling through the comments of the recently popular post he sent, with you in it. Of course, you can attract people online! Who even said you were ugly in the first place? You're not! It's okay not to be humble every once in a while. And maybe if he jussstt stare at your face a littlee longer...

...Is that an RSA student in HIS comment section?

Oh no. Oh, nononnonononononononono-

Breath. Calm down Cater. Maybe, they just liked it for coincidence?

EinEnchanté: Why, is that a fair maiden I see? Why are they in a villain's school? If I may ask, what made you think you could take a photo of their glorious figure? I knew you, nefarious villains, were terrible. How could you hide something from the world!?

... I think Cater fucked up. This wasn't supposed to happen, like, at all! That photo was meant for NRC. And NRC only. Not with these prissy do-gooders, No! Oms, he can feel the headache plummeting into his head like a needle being stabbed at the side of his skull already! Prefect was already popular as they were, now he made them extra popular by sending it to the whole world! No point in deleting this photo, because tons of people had already saved it and sent it to the others! Spreading quick... and soon, it might reach... those guys.

Cater barges into the heartslabyul kitchen, in a panic, since the RSA comments are on the rise. They need to do something! "Cater!- what in the great sevens are you doing?" Sighed Trey, slightly startled. "It's an emergency! Okay, so I may or may not have-" "CATER! NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS!" Shouted Riddle, interrupting Cater's panic rambling, "What made you think it was a good idea to run in the hallways!? Do you know you might slip-" "Not the point rn, Riddle! RSA students had commented on my posts with one of the prefects in them and now they're assuming we kidnapped them or something!" Cater quickly retorts with haste.

... both of the dorm head and vice had gone silent.

...Cater stared back.

Trey's face was unreadable, blank. Riddle was dead silent.

"....Just, check the comments, again." Cater breathed out, the tension thick. Both the vice and head took out their phones to check.

... there's more comments from RSA now.

...Shit.

"Guys? What's up with you all? Why are you so silent -" Ace paused, feeling the tension thickening the moment he stepped in, alongside Deuce, "Housewarden...?" Deuce said in a hushed tone. The red-haired leader and green-haired vice looked up from their phones to turn to the two freshmen, with Cater looking slightly panic and pale.

Wtf happened here? Is some war about to go on? "Uhhh, guys? Are you alright? What even happened in here, like, seriously? You guys look like something died in here-" "Yes, Cater is brain-dead for posting that photo." Riddle sighed, exasperated. "Photo? What photo? You mean, the prefect and him? What about it?" Deuce questioned, confused since he just looked at the new post a few hours ago, now taking out his phone to take a peak on what had happened, even Ace.

What could've possibly happened in that post? Did someone hate on them? Cyber-bullied? Doxxed? Or something else entirely worse?

...

It is something worse.

There were so, so, so many RSA comments and other schools from different districts. Ace was silently reading every comment that belonged to an RSA student, even Deuce.

All five of them were in complete silence.

Riddle Rosehearts

Was just in complete silence. Like, he just heard his execution date. The moment he saw the last name "Wondre" in the comments, he knew this person. That untidy boy from the other school.

xXAllieeeeWndresonXx: woahhh who's that person? They're so pretty! Riddle-San won't mind if I hung out with them, right? :D

....

This little shit- who does he think he is!?

Trey didn't hold back a sigh, knowing that this was going to cause trouble. Ace is already complaining about people stealing his crush- best friend away. Deuce is muttering incoherent shit to himself like he's having a crisis. Cater was just stunned to see these guys care so much (like he is), but on the other hand, maybe he shouldn't have sent that selfie at all. But, mistakes can happen and Cater sure did learn a lesson.

And all this just started because of a photo on Magicam.

...

.... what the fuc-

Meanwhile, in Savannaclaw...

Leona is just sleeping in his bedroom, Ruggie doing chores and making extra money from part-time jobs, and Jack is doing his regular laps around the dorm. Everything was going great. Until-

"Hey, are those RSA students commenting on Cater's new post?" A stupid fucking Savannaclaw NPC said.

...Cater's latest post was with the prefect..

Huh?

Leona checked his phone, Ruggie wanted to do it too but was absent (and missed the convo), and Jack stopped mid-jog. Taking out his phone (from wherever he placed it in), and checking the comments. Said nothing. And sent it to Ruggie. Safe to say, none of them (or the entirety of NRC - Scarabia) are happy to hear abt RSA's delusional comments.

Leona Kingscholar

Man's look like he just witnessed his wife getting killed (spoiler alert!!: u r the wife/hj) just sayin', herbivore. Wtf made you think it was a good idea to show your face in public like that? Not that he cared, but the fact those personified heroic-syndrome disorders came to a fake-ass conclusion that they kidnapped you because of this school's reputation. What the fuck.

...And the fact he saw a familiar but annoying name in that comment section did not make it any better. This guy had the full-on audacity to even set his eyes on HIS herbivore.

No. He doesn't need more competition. He already has more than enough in this entire fucking school with these lil' shits. Do NOT make this worse for him.

...

What if you'll be better off without him? They are sooo much better, right? Surely, there's no use in keeping you here when all he and everyone else here made you suffer. So, why should he stop you? But, then again, you DID stay here and have yet to go home... Why should he let them take you?

.... What if they find your home quicker? Then what he'll do? What is the point if they can treat you so much better? What is the point if they can do it better? What is the point because they are so much more recognized and appreciated than him? What is the point-

...Do you like those RSA princes? Thinking about it, you haven't even met them. And, some of their personalities might rub you off the wrong way (Maybe, or it's just the fact that you told [<-if you did] Leona that you had a bad relationship with men in general and needed space whenever you get uncomfortable, so he's secretly and indirectly protecting you by placing rules to respect you and your boundaries), some might disturb you in a way since SOME *Looks at prince Wintergreen.* are... persistent with their catch.

Nonetheless, he's going to bury all these feelings underground (like his dream) and just look out for you as usual.

Ruggie's phone vibrated with a notification, he checks it. Only to be met with Jack's name with a photo attachment, it's the same post Ruggie liked recently, but Jack texted:

"Check the comments."

... Why the fuck is he so ominous about it? Nvm, Ruggie goes to check-

...aaannddd- he knows somewhere deep into his heart, the prefect's ass is gonna get into some uninvited trouble.

Sigh... wait. Is that- ZAPHY RETRO? HIS CHILDHOOD RIVAL? [And the one who keeps taking his donuts for the "fun" of it]...

...

No.

Ruggie shuts his phone off with an [???] Expression, he's not saying a word. But he's doing his job a bit faster now and it's scarily efficient.

What is he planning?

Jack is probably the most normal one here (besides Silver), and is still contemplating on what the fuck is happening with his dormmates? Suddenly, they're all about plotting murder against RSA??? He thought they were talking abt the recent photo- oh, nvm he's a dumbass. He just remembered the comments.

Yeah, your going to really need that protection. Like man's people from other schools had spotted you.

...

...this is going to be a big mess...

At Octavinelle, in the Monstro Lounge...

The Lounge was busy as usual, with customers talking about the recent post an upperclassman from Heartslabyul posted. Jade was taking orders from table 3, Floyd wanted to ditch but was reluctantly serving table 10, next to table 8.

In Table 8 the group of Heartslabyul students gathered in a gossip talk, "And like, it was crazy! Riddle-senpai was just dead silent! After checking the recent photo that Cater-senpai posted. He was like- ten times scarier with that expression! And, ngl if I were in his heels, I'd also react that way after seeing those comments of those goody-two shoes!"

Eh...? What did this guppy say? Kingyo-chan's silent expression instead of bursting red? Whaaaat??? And, it's all about a recent post from Hanadai-kun. Hmm, but the recent post was with Koebi-chan...

Floyd places the tray down on table 10, puts his hand in his pocket, taking out his phone to check what all this is about, in the middle of his work. Checking the comments, he saw... Florence?

Fl0underf1sh: Wahhh! They are so beautiful! Who are they? I wanna see them in real life! Too bad they are at NRC... :( Oh well! I can always take a visit with Rielle and Sabasty [<- Sébastien] !!!

Hell nawh.

*Cue to Floyd leaving the Monstro Lounge, running straight towards Ramshackle. [And add some discord sound effects like leaving the chat]*

Jade just watches in amused silence as Floyd bolts out of the Lounge.

Azul, doing his usual work with the papers and students he had recently made deals with for the past few weeks, had his phone kept on while he stared at it from time to time. A post about you and Cater. But besides Cater, you.

...And he can see the odd growing numbers in the comment section.

But there was no time to rest so-

*Knock knock knock* a familiar rhythm tapped gently on his office door, "Come in, Jade." Azul permitted. Jade enters with an amused smile, "Where's Floyd?" Azul questioned before Jade could say anything. "Fufu~ Floyd ran outside the Monstro Lounge," Jade said with amusement, eyes gleaming with intentional mischief. "Sighh, for what?" "I do not exactly know. But, if I could guess, it could be the topic the.. customers were talking about recently, about the Prefect and Cater-senpai's post. From what I know, they were mainly talking about the Prefect before Floyd took out his phone and went outside in haste." Jade explained, putting his hand on where his heart should be.

...What..? Azul takes his phone out of curiosity, not before "Go and get Floyd back here, he has unfinished tasks to do." "As you wish." Jade leaves to fetch Floyd.

Azul Ashengrotto

The moment he checked the comments, his brain was instantly thinking of a plan. No hessy (<-Jay reference).

He looked through the comments like he's peaking through government files.

Then that comment hits him.

RielleAtlantic!!!: woahhh! They're such a fairytale! Are they human? They look super pretty like a princess, maybe Florence should take me to NRC sometime!

......

NOT HIM AGAIN-

*Cue to an internally panicking and screaming Azul*

Meanwhile, with Jade, he had gone out to look for his brother, suspecting he might be in Ramshackle's since that is where the dear prefect is usually located (or probably chilling in there since you could be an introvert and prefer to stay at home rather than going out all the time), while Jade is strolling down the rocky pathway (to other students: jogging, mf is THAT tall) he checked his phone to see what chaos you had started (unintentionally or not) and was met with a ton of chaos in the comments specifically. Some RSA students are basically declaring war, while NRC students had commented to defend themselves and prevent the RSA lads get any closer to the prefect, and what's this? Other schools have also taken notice of this post you. My~ you really do attract trouble anywhere, even in media's where you can socialize from far distances by using these cellular devices. But he sees-

Forward reply to RielleAtlantic!!! <- Sébastien_Warford: Rielle, you've just met them online, there is no need for you to write poems about them now unless you want us to take a small visit to Night Raven. But I must say, they do look stunning. A shame that they are still single. Maybe we'd get a chance with them if they'd get to know us first.

...ah. Well, that was quite an... unpleasant surprise. But it's not surprising when you can attract even the most prominent figures in some other countries and sea.

At Ramshackle...

Jade arrives and enters the gate to Ramshackle's. It was already opened, Jade noted. Floyd had definitely gone in here.

And the front door of the Ramshackle's is opened as well, with no damages either, hm.

"KOEBI-CHAN????" yelled out a confused eel inside the dilapidated house, Jade mused.

He explored a little in the house, it looked quite habitable despite its poor appearance. So he went upstairs to where his brother is, since it was just Floyd looking for dear prefect and would probably skip his shift again, "Floyd, it's time to go back to the Lounge, Azul is looking for you, let us not bother the prefect-"

As he walked in he only saw his brother, no sign of the dear prefect. Huh...?

"Koebi-chan isn't here... you didn't find them either, Jade?" Floyd said, still looking around at for the said absence of prefect.

Oya?~ Well, this is quite the predicament. Very amusing if the... Royal Swords Academy students just foolishly decide to kidnap the beloved prefect in this school, without knowing the consequences afterwards.

Floyd looked irritated, first he heard those guppies yappin' about Koebi-chan about that dumb (but pretty) post and now Koebi-chan is gone!? Where tf did they go?? Unless...

"They were taken by those little shits were they..?" Floyd said calmly with a blank face, a sudden 180 turn from his previous mood, he couldn't find his Koebi-chan in the house nor the school, he couldn't even smell their cologne, except...

Except for this annoying flowery scent that does not belong to Koebi-chan, more likely, its smell is intertwined with Koebi-chan's scent, and it irritates him.

Jade smells it, too. And so, he sighs, "Let us go inform the others, shall we?" Jade said ominously, with a big, fat, shit-eating grin.

Floyd looks like he's about to commit homicide with that frown and glare painting his darkened face.

He did not enjoy this one bit. Taking what's not theirs.

Meanwhile, with Vil...

After a photoshoot session, he received a notification, from Rook.

Hunt: Mon dieu! Monsieur Prémédite had informed the Vices- that mon Trickster/Étoile went missing!

Vil Scheonheit

... WHAT.

Just RIGHT AFTER his PHOTOSHOOT? Seriously! Can't sweet potato catch a break already?

Wtf happened anyway?

Wasn't it a FEW HOURS ago they were with Cater?

... well WAS before they just vanished!

...Rook sent an attachment. And it's the recent post everyone saw today.

Why the fuck are there RSA students in there?

Until he sees that ONE username.

NeigeLeblanc: Oms! It's the VDC manager I saw before in the event! Can I get their @?

NeigeLeblanc Replied to NeigeLeblanc: Nvm! They're here now! Omss! They look like they came straight out of a fairytale! Stay tuned for our selfies later!

... DAMN SEVENS NEIGE-

Vil then returns to his dorm, calling out for a housewarden meeting tomorrow.

To be continued... (it took too much energy outta me but I'll make a part two for the rest of the main cast!)💋

Until then. Prefect.

[yourbloodysunrise]

psst. hiii !!! happy to see your recent post on my timeline <33 do whatever you want with this and take your time obviously but could you do yandere headcanons for lego ninjago please ? any character(s), how likely they are to be yanderes, whatever you want to do !!! thank you so much <33 i hope you're having a good day/night !!!

⛅ — oh, no, OH. it's new because I haven't been allowed to choose characters yet, haha.

⛅ — since you've given me a free topic, I decided to dive a little deeper in my minds and write the characters that I see as possible yandere. enjoy!

°.✩┈┈∘┈୨୧┈∘┈┈✩.°

YANDERE NINJAGO HEADCANONS/CONCEPT.

— FANDOM: LEGO NINJAGO.

— CHARACTERS: LLOYD GARMADON, JAY WALKER, SONS OF GARMADON (HARUMI, KILLOW, ULTRA VIOLET, MR. E), ACRONIX, MORRO

— ROMANTIC/PLATONIC

— HCS/CONCEPT

— TW: BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR, OOC, I TRIED NOT TO LUMP ALL MY IDEAS TOGETHER ANF LEFT ONLY A FEW CHARACTERS, YANDERE BEHAVIOR, OBSESSED BEHAVIOR, VIOLENCE AND DEATH MENTION, KIDNAPPING MENTION, I'M NOT GOOD AT DESCRIBING VIOLENT SCENES

°.✩┈┈∘┈୨୧┈∘┈┈✩.°

⛅ — Let's be honest, any characters can be made yandere if you give them a reason why they became like this, so I could probably write about all the plot characters of ninjago, but I have specific characters in mind.

☆ ┈ To begin with, in my opinion, Lloyd could most likely become a yandere towards you because of all the shit that happened to him. If you've known him for a long time, the older he gets, the worse he feeling about your safety.

☆ ┈ It seems to me that he would have become a yandere for you most likely if you had known him for a long time and were friends with him. He doesn't need many reasons to take care of you, but..

☆ ┈ Remembering how many times he lost his friends and his family...

☆ ┈ Lloyd doesn't want to lose you either.

☆ ┈ He will most likely be paranoid about your safety. People around him are either dying or suffering, and he's terrified that something might happen to you, and even more afraid that it might be his fault.

☆ ┈ I honestly don't see Lloyd as a romantic character. Considering his relationship with Harumi, in my vision, he will no longer be drawn to romantic feelings after that and will try to leave your relationship as friendly.

☆ ┈ If you looked after him when he was still a child, it will only strengthen the platonic bond.

☆ ┈ At first, it's just a slow-moving overprotection, Lloyd won't even realize that he's probably overstepping the mark.

☆ ┈ This is mainly due to the fact that he, as a leader, feels the responsibility to make sure that you are safe, and even here his personal attachment to you has weight.

☆ ┈ As I said before, the further we go through the seasons, the worse it gets for him. Ninjago is not a safe place, something terrible can happen to you in any part of it. Damn, something terrible can happen to you if he's not there for you..

☆ ┈ You won't mind if he stays with you a little longer, right? He just want to make sure that you're fine!

☆ ┈ Lloyd won't tell anyone about his feelings. He is afraid that his excessive concern will strain you and therefore prefers to ignore them, which, accordingly, only makes things worse.

☆ ┈ If one of the villains is planning evil against you, it doesn't matter if it's insults, threats or real harm, Lloyd gets furious. He blindly hits and tear everything he sees in an attempt to "protect you" and somehow express his anger inside.

☆ ┈ Probably, when he calms down, the bones of the person who dared to encroach on you will be ground...

☆ ┈ Can he be hurt anyone? Most likely, yes, but in no case will he try to hurt you. On the contrary, even if he accidentally scratches you, he will apologize to you as if he burned down your house. He can't stand the thought of you feeling unwell, he starts feel unwell, and gloomy ideas appear in his thoughts.

☆ ┈ The other ninjas and Wu are safe too. Lloyd values them, and although he still mentally prefers your company to theirs (he's ashamed to admit it), he's not going to hurt them. In any case, he doesn't believe that any of them could negatively affect your relationship with him.

☆ ┈ He will also not feel hostility towards your friends/family or other people you interact, Lloyd, of course, feels attracted to you, but he does not want to limit your communication.

☆ ┈ People who treat you badly or villains? They are usually simply torn apart by the amount of energy from Lloyd's elemental power..

☆ ┈ He's sometimes scared of his own actions, Lloyd doesn't understand his own feelings, and it tense him.

☆ ┈ For me, Lloyd is not some wild type who kills or hurt many people. If he kills anyone, it will be your enemy, and most likely by accident. Lloyd knows what power he has, and he doesn't want to use it for evil, but he can't always control it.

☆ ┈ Lloyd's behavior doesn't change much with you. You are his good friend, who he is very, very like and care about. Sometimes he can be quiet with you at times when he thinks that his feelings may not be completely normal, but he always pretend that he is thinking about something else.

☆ ┈ Lloyd is not that prone to jealousy. He is not someone who will restrict you in any way as long as it does not pose a potential threat. Simply put, he won't be jealous of you unless you start avoiding him and paying more attention to someone else.

☆ ┈ By the way, Lloyd likes to help you with something, especially with your hobbies. In his eyes, this is a great way to spend time together, besides, you definitely won't mind, right? He just wants to hang out with you.

☆ ┈ To sum up, Lloyd is not one of those yandere that you can be afraid of (but only in my concept, haha). He's more unpredictable than dangerous. He can hurt someone, but mostly he doesn't do it on purpose, but rather because of emotions.

☆ ┈ The harm he causes is mostly physical. Lloyd will not use threats, all the pain he brings is his way of dealing with his feelings for you.

☆ ┈ The only thing that can be bad for you is the way he always convinces both himself and you that you need him. It seems to be manipulation, although he doesn't realize it himself, he just sincerely believes that he has to help you.

☆ ┈ He should protect you, he should be the one who will always be there for you, he should be your support in everything...

☆ ┈ Just trust your friend, okay?

— "Oh?..No, no, it's okay! I was just thinking about something..So, where did you want to go? I was planning to take a walk anyway."

☆ ┈ I don't sure why, but Jay always made me think of him as a possible yandere. Perhaps because of his behavior towards Nya? Who knows.

☆ ┈ In my mind, Jay will be a clingy yandere. Very. When it comes to words, he can't show off his skills, so he prefers to show his feelings with actions.

☆ ┈ Jay can be both platonic and romantic yandere, it will depend on his relationship with Nya, but I will try to keep the line between the two.

☆ ┈ Hugs, harmless touches like shaking hands or just putting a hand on shoulder, he lives by it. Hug him and he will cry with happiness, Jay is really hungry for touch when it comes to you.

☆ ┈ There are two states of Jay: in the first, he just acts like a silly guys who loves joke, that is, most of the time, and the second is his paranoid and aggressive side.

☆ ┈ ..Jay didn't think about his feelings for you, at first. You're just a good friend of his, a little less close to him than Cole. If we move through the seasons, then most likely the turning points could be season 3 (Rebooted), season 6 (Skybound) and Season 14 (Seabound).

★ ┈ If someone read my hcs with Jay, you'll probably notice that I mention Skybound a lot, lol. The reason for this is that this is the only season where Jay was shown in more detail, but we're not talking about that right now, but about the fact that this time I have several moments to build on.

☆ ┈ Jay, it seems to me, is easy to push his feelings to become..twisted. Let's start with Rebooted.

☆ ┈ Jay will feel pretty..depressed. His girlfriend fell in love with his best friend. Best friend. Just thinking that Nya likes Cole more than Jay himself makes him feel unpleasant bile, and he doesn't even know who to lean on. It seems that everyone has their own problems, and no one will listen him-

☆ ┈ And then you're decided to intervene.

☆ ┈ You notice how tensed Jay is getting and decide to support him. For him, it's like a ray of sunshine in the abyss of his own feelings. You joke around with him, even if sometimes it's not funny, try to cheer him up with words, even try to brighten up his days with his interests, like, for example, inviting him to go to a movie with Fritz Donnegan.

☆ ┈ Jay will feel awkward at first. You're doing it..For him? Do you really want him to be better off? He'll have doubts about it, but at some point he'll just decide to stop thinking about it and start clinging to you.

☆ ┈ You start to get closer to Jay, and actually, it helps him. He realizes that the strange possessive thoughts are disappearing, and this makes him relieved..You make him feel better.

☆ ┈ He can't remember feeling so alive for a long time. He didn't even seem to feel so good with Nya. And Jay strives for this feeling to last forever..

☆ ┈ After Zane's death, you will be the only one with whom Jay will try to keep in touch. He doesn't want to think about ninjas or anything that reminded him of what happened...But that doesn't mean he's going to give up on you.

☆ ┈Well, we all know exactly what awaits us next. Skybound.

☆ ┈ This will be the blow to Jay that will probably start to ruin your life from now on.

☆ ┈ He spent every day and night in fear. In fear that something might happen to you if he wasn't around. Jay begins to fear that even if he just leaves you alone for a while, something bad will happen to you.

☆ ┈ Nadakhan most likely locked your soul in Djinn Blade not for the sake of power, but simply to torment Jay. And it's going to drive him crazy. Jay's mind can only perceive 3 things at that moment: The safety of Nya, how much he wants to kill Nadakhan, and how he screwed up in order to protect you.

☆ ┈ How did he let this happen?..He had to make sure that you were safe. He failed.. He should have been there for you, just like when you were there for him at the moment when he needed you.

☆ ┈ He won't make that mistake again.

☆ ┈ From some moment on, Jay changed. You will be one of those who will be the first to notice the changes. It seems he's still the same funny friend of yours, but..Something is definitely wrong.

☆ ┈ He doesn't seem to want to leave you alone. Wherever you are, wherever you go, he wants to be with you. If you or someone else points this out to him, he'll just pout, saying it's just your imagination.

☆ ┈ Jay is not against the idea of stalking. He's ashamed of doing this, but he can't accept the thought that you're in danger without him. There may always be enemies around you! He's not doing this for some perverted pleasure, he's doing it because he's genuinely worried about your safety.

☆ ┈ Unfortunately, his sincere concern is getting creepy.

☆ ┈ Over time, he stops trusting some of the ninjas. Yes, they're his team, his family, but he can't help but shudder at the thought of you leaving him for someone else.

☆ ┈ His relationship with Nya and Cole is the most difficult. Jay no longer understands whether he feels something for Nya or not, his love faltered the moment he found out that Nya is in love with Cole. He sees her as a friend, as a good person, but not his love.

☆ ┈ There is a similar moment with Cole, he remembers how they were friends, and he continues to pretend that they have reconciled, but in his heart he is afraid and envious. The thought of Cole taking you out of Jay's life drives him insane.

☆ ┈ He will finally lose his normal mindset when Nya merged with the ocean. Now he's lost her, forever. Until that moment, he hadn't realized how much he treasured her..

☆ ┈ He promises that everything will be better with you.

☆ ┈ Because of his reputation in the team, Jay does not arouse any suspicion, but believe me, he is dangerous. He doesn't want to hurt his friends, but he can do it if he gets mad.

☆ ┈ He's always suspicious of others. Who says this person doesn't mean you any harm? Jay will keep an eye on those with whom you communicate, but will try not to limit you just not so be suspicious.

☆ ┈ He won't kill anyone, but he can seriously maim and use threats. In the end, who would believe that a silly, good funny blue ninja could threaten someone's life or stalk his best friend? Pfft, nonsense!

☆ ┈ The bags under his eyes? He had insomnia today. Is there a burnt smell around him? Oh, he just made food badly, he'll wash his uniform tomorrow, don't worry. Are you starting to feel like you're being followed? As soon as he is with you, the mysterious stalker immediately disappears! That's right. It's all right.

☆ ┈ Don't pay attention to his shaking hands and excessive clinginess. You're probably just seeing things. By the way, would you like to tell him how are you doing today?

(by the way, I haven't watched Dragon Rising completely, but it would be a good idea if Jay remembered some moments with you because of his obsession and started chasing you, believing that you are his destiny and you can help him remember about his past)

— "I'm glad you're feeling better..I don't know who the creepy guy who's been stalking you lately is, but it's nice to know that I've pushed them away. Maybe we should go out together more often. Well, you know, in the way if they decided to come back.."

☆ ┈ Now, can we talk about that The Sons of Garmadon literally looks like some kind of cult?

☆ ┈ Now, imagine the same, but the gang members worship not only Lord Garmadon.

☆ ┈ Everything will most likely start if you manage to attract Harumi's attention. She will be the instigator of the obsession with you that she will instill in the hearts of the other members of the Sons of Garmadon.

☆ ┈ I guess the highest chance will be if you are a ninja. It is unlikely that she will be interested in an ordinary person, but she will have a special focus on ninjas. Especially if you've ever been involved in killing the Great Devourer, I don't believe that people didn't see the ninja's attempt to confuse the Great Devourer in any way.

☆ ┈ You've rekindled interest in Harumi, and that's her, to be honest..Annoy.

☆ ┈ It's still your fault that the Great Devourer broke into the city, it's your fault that people died..Still, why can't she hate you? Harumi wants to hate you. She really wants to.

☆ ┈ She tries to reassure herself with this, but then she just accepts the fact that you cause her some other feelings. And she wants to know what it is about you, since she feels that you are different from other ninjas.

☆ ┈ Harumi is practically delusional. Her traumatized mind begins to convince her that you saved her. You're not like other ninjas, she knows that! You just need to be led to this idea...

☆ ┈ At the moment when Harumi is on the ninja ship, she is very clingy to you. She uses the image of a princess in trouble to get closer to you, and you sympathize with her, letting her cling to you.

☆ ┈ She is crazy with happiness that she can be so close to you and touch you, and you won't even mind...

☆ ┈ Harumi is sure that your place is with her. What did the residents of Ninjago give you in response to your protection, hm? For several years of protecting this island, almost no one thought about what efforts you were making to do this. Let her show you that she can take care of you!

☆ ┈ She is obsessed with you in every way. She needs your attention, she dreams that you would love her in return, just as she adores you. Harumi can't stand other ninjas, but you? She'll ruin an entire city for you.

☆ ┈ She would probably be possessive, delusional, and self-binding. Her feelings are difficult to describe, it's a terrible mix of love, obsession and dislike.

☆ ┈ The most dangerous thing is that, despite her delusional thoughts, she realizes that her feelings are wrong and she absolutely doesn't care. Harumi believes it's the same love, just a little weird.

☆ ┈ She will not hesitate to do such strange things as collect your personal belongings, clothes, perhaps she would even build a small temple in your honor at the base of the Sons of Garmadon. She had one in the palace, but she had to get rid of it when the servants almost found it.

☆ ┈ Harumi's next step will be that, realizing that most likely the other Sons of the Garmadons will not mind getting rid of you, she begins to instill her obsession with others. Like I said, Harumi delirious a lot, but she's damn smart and knows how to get others to do the same.

☆ ┈ After all, if others love you the same way she loves you, she won't have to get rid of them, right?

☆ ┈ Harumi is easy to jealous, any interaction you have with someone leads her to murderous hatred, she is tolerant only of other generals of the Sons of Garmadon. She is especially angry if you show attention to other ninjas.

☆ ┈ In her princess image, her jealousy manifests itself in self-destruction. Harumi will be hysterical, tearing her hair and scratching her hands till they bleed, crying with anger.

☆ ┈ As Quiet One, she will no longer hold back. Anyone who decides they are worthy of your attention will be beaten and chained until they are tortured to death.

☆ ┈ Ordinary members of the Sons of Garmadon are not allowed to touch you. The only thing they are allowed to do is admire you and show their admiration for you. The generals are the only people who can do whatever they want with you.

☆ ┈ The Sons of Garmadon will suddenly burst into your house and simply grab you to take you to their base. It's going to be scary as hell because no one explains anything to you until you get there.

☆ ┈ By the way, yes, Harumi has successfully managed to inspire others with her faith in you. It's..weird. To watch a crowd of people admire you when they know that they can't interact with you. But hey, she knows exactly how to make you happy!

☆ ┈ Most likely, the first one will succumb to this is Killow.

☆ ┈ Well..Since the Quiet One says that you are a great person, it means that you probably are.

☆ ┈ He's pretty simple when it comes to his feelings. He's a little delusional about what Harumi told him about you, but he still retains the rational part.

☆ ┈ Killow is a big guy and he likes physical contact, so he will be offended if you try to resist his attempts to interact with you. He could wrap his palm around your hands so you couldn't struggle and allow himself to snuggle up to you, rejoicing that he is so close.

☆ ┈ If Harumi considers you to be her possible lover, you're just an idol to Killow. He doesn't really expect much, just that you will be patient with him and allow him to pay attention to you.

☆ ┈ He is actually trying to provide you with a decent life in the standards in which Ninjago City is. Although Harumi and Mr. E mostly take care of you most of the time, Killow also tries to contribute something.

☆ ┈ He will secretly bring you some things that Harumi and Mr. E forbid you, except those that will help you escape, of course.

☆ ┈ Although Killow is gentle with you, he is one of those who would like to threaten you in order to get you to obey. He can threaten you with pain, although this will most likely never be brought to reality, because he won't be able to hit you even if he wanted to, so he usually threatens your family or friends.

☆ ┈ Don't you want to cooperate? Oh, it's a pity, maybe if he pays a little visit to your dear friends in Resistance, you'll change your mind..

☆ ┈ Killow usually teams up with Ultra Violet when it comes to you. They may argue about who should get your attention, but they're more intimidating as a team.

☆ ┈ Ultra Violet was the second one who succumbed to Harumi's ideas. Since you had a hand in killing the Great Devourer..Perhaps you can show yourself from a wilder side?

☆ ┈ We know that Ultra Violet is unstable already, and when Harumi manages to plant the seed of obsession in her mind, it will grow on its own, and very strongly.

☆ ┈ Did Ultra Violet delusional? You will be surprised, but I will say that not complete. Of course, due to her mental state, she believes that you are someone perfect, but she begins to doubt when she sees that you are resisting the attention of the Sons of Garmadon.

☆ ┈ Don't you have to accept them or something if you really need them?..

☆ ┈ She doesn't let doubts show, so probably nothing will change for you.

☆ ┈ Although Harumi has assured you that she is the one who should be with you, Ultra Violet is not going to share. No no, her jealousy is even worse than Harumi's.

☆ ┈ If you show attention to someone in front of her, she will try to attack the one you are spending time with. This usually ends with serious beatings, and in the end, Ultra Violet will simply take you somewhere private.

☆ ┈ If it's another general of the Sons of Garmadon, she won't fight, but she'll take you with her anyway, no matter how other general will complain about it.

☆ ┈ Ultra Violet is the one who likes to express her love in words. Although actually she whispering crazy nonsense while she clings to you, holding a knife to your neck in case you want to resist.

☆ ┈ Ultra Violet is also can harm you, although it usually happens by accident. She doesn't know what normal entertainment is, and therefore suggests brightening up your days with training fights. If she accidentally harms you during one of them, she will most likely not be allowed to see you for a while.

☆ ┈ Of course, she will be ashamed, but this feeling will overshadow the ferocity when you are separated. She always rushes to you if you are away for too long, and her methods of getting to you are not the most peaceful.

☆ ┈ Along with Killow, she is given more limited interactions with you than, for example, with Mr. E. This makes both jealous and they usually unite and loudly argue about who has more privileges. If you get involved in an argument, you will most likely be asked to choose a side. Make a wise choice.

☆ ┈ About him, Mr. E is the only one who is fully aware of delusion of Harumi and all the other Sons of Garmadon.

☆ ┈ ..However, this does not mean that you are safe with him. Although he knows that others are obsessed with you and that you need help, he's not going to give it. On the contrary, to your bad luck, he wants to join their obsession.

☆ ┈ You won't know the reason. Even Harumi, who understands that he was skeptical of her words from the very beginning, does not know why he is attracted to you.

☆ ┈ The motives of Mr. E are complicated, but his intentions are clear: he wants a place in your life, too.

☆ ┈ Among all the generals of the Sons of Garmadon, he is the best option. He is entrusted with making sure that you live in prosperity, and he is actually doing this.

☆ ┈ Mr. E brings your favorite entertainment, the food you like, the clothes you've dreamed of. Simply put, he often gives you things that you want. He is also the one who mostly follows you and then reports to Harumi.

☆ ┈ You think that Mr. E doesn't hide his presence, but trust me, when he wants to be secretive, he makes sure that you don't notice him.

☆ ┈ It is difficult for him to show you his affection, if he has it at all. He doesn't talk to you much, but he can sometimes write you an answer on paper.

☆ ┈ He is also not good at physical contact, because his iron body feels unpleasant, and he does not want to cause you unnecessary discomfort.

☆ ┈ Mr. E is a good listener because he will never mind what you say. Even if you mumble to him about how much you hate one of the other generals, he will never think about it. Go on, tell him anything you want. You know he won't tell anyone anyway.

☆ ┈ Here, Mr. E is not an Echo Zane, he just contains his details. Imagine that some fragment of Echo Zane's consciousness (whatever it was based on) got into the system of Mr. E.

☆ ┈ Maybe that this would contribute to the creation of his obsession. He can protect the weak. You are weak against four generals. So why can't he protect you?

☆ ┈ You see him a lot, probably even more than Harumi. Mr. E serves Lord Garmadon because he was created for this, and the opportunity to do something else seems attractive to him. Is this the feeling that people call love? If that's the case, then he wants more...

☆ ┈ There are four of them. You're alone. And each of them wants your attention only for themselves. Good luck.

☆ ┈ Perhaps it will be a surprise for you to see Acronix here, but he has always inspired me to write him as yandere.

☆ ┈ You can get targeted by being a ninja or just an ordinary technology-savvy person who has been captured by the vermillions in order to work for Hands of Time.

☆ ┈ He will most likely immediately realize that he feels something for you. The reason for this is that Acronix understands that his feelings are strong, and he won't even try to ignore them, no, he's showing you his intentions. But a little later.

☆ ┈ At first, Acronix studies you from afar. It will scare you anyway if he suddenly attacks you with a confession, and he doesn't want to screw up from the very beginning. He can be frivolous, but he's not stupid.

☆ ┈ When he show himself to you, he will try to show you his good side in the hope that it will arouse at least some interest in you. He'll be upset if you don't change your mind about him.

☆ ┈ Does he ever lose interest? Hell, no.

☆ ┈ Acronix seems to realize that his love is sick, but he downplays it as if it were a small thing. So ahead of you are waiting for long attempts to woo you and a strange courtship in an attempt to get to your heart.

☆ ┈ Yes, courtship. Acronix wants your love, but he doesn't want you to fake it, or worse, force you to accept his feelings. He want you to truly love him as much as he loves you.

☆ ┈ Despite this, he may force you to physical contact. He can wait for you to fall in love with him, but he still wants intimacy.

☆ ┈ Grabbing your cheeks abruptly to kiss you or hug you so that you feel like your ribs will break if you try to escape, all this is in his repertoire.

☆ ┈ Oh, he's definitely going to kidnap you. If you are an ordinary person, you will simply be captured by vermillions and brought to his and Krux's lair. If you are a ninja, he will personally want to capture you. Since Acronix has been watching you for a while, he knows quite a lot about you, and he doesn't mind using it.

☆ ┈ As soon as you get there, you will be constantly watched. The only times when Acronix will take his attention away from you are when he is not in the lair or for using his BorgPad, but the second one won't last for long. And when he's not with you, the vermillions will be watching you.

☆ ┈ Krux is absolutely against this obsession of his brother. He doesn't understand why Acronix has such a rush of affection for you, and sometimes it annoys him. However, he won't do anything about it, as he doesn't want to upset the Acronix, but at least he treats you with some respect.

☆ ┈ Acronix will try to create a more cozy atmosphere for you: he will allocate you a separate corner where there will be a bed, a couple of pillows and a few of your favorite items.

☆ ┈ Almost all of the "gifts" from Acronix are stolen, and you may even find a few items from your home. If you ask him about it, he will honestly admit that after your abduction, he broke into your room a couple of times to look for something interesting in your things.

☆ ┈ Acronix tries to be romantic, but he's quite clingy and protective. He doesn't want you to show interest in anyone but him, the only person he allows you to talk to is his brother, and Krux doesn't particularly want to talk to you...

☆ ┈ Usually, the topics of your conversations with Acronix are divided into two topics: about what wonderful technology is, and how you two would look great as a couple.

☆ ┈ He the one who talks most of the time and you don't say anything, but he also likes to ask you sudden questions to make sure you're listening to him. If you don't, he won't be particularly offended, he'll just playfully scold you.

☆ ┈ Acronix will want to take you with him to the Iron Doom, what kind of lover would he be if he left you alone? Although this is also due to the fact that the idea that you could rely only on him sounds attractive to him. After all, if you find yourself in the past, where will you go?

☆ ┈ He's a big fantasist about your relationship. As soon as he sees you, romantic scenes will unfold in his head. Acronix might even think to get married, though he is not sure about it. His priority is just a romantic relationship.

☆ ┈ It's going to be hard with him because you have very little chance of escaping. You are kept tied or shackled and almost always under supervision, and Acronix spends almost all the time with you, so you don't even have time to take a break from it.

☆ ┈ Well, at least you have Cyrus Borg's company..And that's when Acronix isn't around, because he hates it when you focus on others.

☆ ┈ Even if you can get out by yourself or with the help of a ninja, he is always one step ahead, always in the future, where you should be by his side.

☆ ┈ It's not like you have choice anyway. Now, why don't you come a little closer?

— "..Stalked you? Oh no, baby, it was an ordinary walk of two lovers! It's just that only I knew about it."

☆ ┈ Given Morro's personality, it wouldn't be surprising if he had similar feelings for you. He just needs to be given a reason.

☆ ┈ The makings of any feelings may have appeared at the very beginning, when he possesed Lloyd's body. You don't want to hurt your friend, so you refuse to fight, but Morro will take it as you don't want to fight with him.

☆ ┈ He doesn't really like you at first, however, as expected. He doesn't even think much about you, in his eyes you're just a problem that needs to be liquidated. Perhaps your images will pop up in his head from time to time, but he will quickly dismiss them.

☆ ┈ I just live by the idea that Morro would want to stay with Master Wu during the events of Day of the Departed. Traveler's tea can transport him from the Departed Realm, I have always considered this to be the most logical option.

☆ ┈ Most likely, his feelings will appear if you want to give him a second chance. This will even confuse him at first, because he is sure that for all that he has done for Ninjago, you will hate him.

☆ ┈ However, he awkwardly accept your attention. Morro isn't sure if he should have stayed at all, most likely the only reason he's still here is because he wanted to stay with Master Wu.

☆ ┈ The second reason will appear soon..The more time you spend, the more he begins to feel affection for you.

☆ ┈ Morro's biggest problem is that he's not sure about his feelings. The only person he ever loved was Master Wu, and for showing him fatherly love as well. As a result, Morro is not sure if his feelings are romantic or platonic.

☆ ┈ Are these feelings at all, or is he just clinging to your attention, as to the closeness that he has not experienced for many years, being in the Cursed Realm?..

☆ ┈ Whatever it is, Morro likes it. Initially, he would try to forget about his feelings, since he doesn't understand them, but at some point he just gets used to them.

☆ ┈ Morro will not demand your attention, as he believes that he is not worthy of it, but any expressions of sympathy for him increasingly add fuel to his burning hotbed of obsession.

☆ ┈ Morro could start thinking that your relationship could be more than that. He is sure that his feelings are some kind of connection between you, a connection that needs to be developed.

☆ ┈ He dreams of achieving an exemplary relationship with you, it resembles a mixture of family and partner relationships.

☆ ┈ Morro wants to make sure that you know how much he values you, and he's ready to show it. In different ways.

☆ ┈ Morro does not know how to express his love for you. He's too insecure to admit to you that he feels something for you, and physical contact is also difficult. In original series the moment where Nya and Cole hug each other, it was shown that the ghost can become tangible during contact, and Morro takes advantage of this.

☆ ┈ He doesn't want to impose, but sometimes he allows himself to come up to you when you are alone and ask you if he can hug you or take your hand.

☆ ┈ Sometimes Morro comes up with such strange thoughts as, for example, to possess you just to feel you as close as possible. He probably won't be able to look you in the eye for a while, feeling ashamed of it.

☆ ┈ Morro is a controlling and protective type. He basically won't show his obsession in any way, but he's very protective. Literally.

☆ ┈ He is almost always there, wherever you go, he shows a desire to go with you. He'll get upset if you ask him to leave you alone, and he'll either do it or he won't. Depending on how worried he is about you at that moment.

☆ ┈ I doubt that ghosts sleep, but if they do, then they probably sleep very sensitively. Morro often lies around your bed and just listens to the environment around you to make sure you're safe.

☆ ┈ Everything is difficult for Morro with jealousy. Is he jealous? Yes, indeed. He may be tolerant of your closest people, but anyone who says a word about how strange it is that Morro is always with you will immediately end up on his hate list.

☆ ┈ Morro is not against using violence, but only if it would protect you. Of course, he could get rid of a couple of people whom he considers unworthy, but he wants to become a better person, if not for himself, then at least for you..

☆ ┈ When he's with your enemies, he's ferocious. He can offer them to leave peacefully, but if it doesn't work out, he doesn't mind painting his sword in blood. Usually, few people leave alive after skirmishes with him.

☆ ┈ Having a little obsessed ghost by your side could probably be worse. But don't forget that wherever you go, he will always be looking at you.

☆ ┈ He won't ever let you out of his gaze.

☆ ┈ So relax, okay? He will protect you from any hostility.

— "I'm here for you. And always will."

..:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟﾞ｡.:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟ🌤

🌤️ — it was good, I hope...funny fact, it was originally supposed to be a yandere blog, but I decided to make it just a writer-random blog.

🌤️ — btw, I left the requests open so, hey??? anyone??? I am free for now :'D

🌤️ — welp, hope you like it! have a good day, see you later ☆

[cybrasigilism]

Fue Mejor (Thanos/Choi Su-bong X Reader Oneshot)

warning: smut and all things of the like | not proofread | lowercase intended | 🌽 no plot | cannabis usage (no shit) | high sex | fingering | PiV | hair pulling | degradation if you squint | ooc(?) thanos | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: I listened to fue mejor by kali uchis while brainstorming this fic, i recommend listening to it bc its actually heavenly. + i think i accidentally wrote thanos a bit ooc so i apologize for that!

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

══════════════════

god you needed to hook up high more often.

that was the one thing you could think of as thanos kissed you with such passion you hadn’t felt before. your tongues moved in perfect synchronization while his hand slid up underneath your sweater. you moaned into his mouth as you felt his fingers begin to toy with your nipples, the sensitivity was almost too much for you to handle. your own hands made their way to his hair, pulling while he played with your tits.

“yeah— y’like when i do that don’t you?” thanos joked, breaking the kiss while you gave a breathy “uh huh” in response. “i think i can still do one better from here—“ he suggested, unzipping your sweater; your boobs now on full display. you let out a raunchy moan as thanos started to kiss down your neck, strategically taking his time in making his way to your tits in a painfully slow fashion. you couldn’t tell if it was the inebriated state, or just his usual teasing manner, but you couldn’t get enough of it.

you felt as though you could lose all feeling in your fingers and toes as he popped one of your tits in his mouth, still teasing the other with his hand. each time his tongue went over your nipple you felt your eyes roll back even further, your grip on his hair hardening, which in turn caused him to let out a groan. you haven’t even taken his cock yet and he had already made a complete mess of you, you weren’t even sure you would have to go all the way at this point. he could very easily make you cum just from how he sucked and lapped at your tits alone.

god knows thanos wouldn’t be through with you without you cumming on his cock, though. so when you let out a whimper as he abruptly rose from your chest, he chuckled. “what’s the matter? having too much fun?” he asked, parting your legs. “would’ve gotten high with you a lot sooner if i’d known this is what we would be doing.” before he could unzip your jeans, your hands swiftly moved to replace his. after all, you weren’t just going to lay there and let him do all the work. “woah, someone’s eager-“ he laughed, to which you gave him an annoyed look through half-lidded eyes. “don’t gotta give me that look, i know what you need.” he assured, moving his hand between your thighs. you whined as his fingers slid over all your sensitive spots, you felt his free hand grip onto your leg as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

“i need you—please.” you begged, grabbing the collar of his shirt as you pulled him in for another sloppy kiss. you bit his bottom lip as he pushed two fingers into your pussy, not a moment wasted as his began to fervently thrust his digits into you. you broke the kiss as you felt tears well up in your eyes at the sheer speed in which he pumped his fingers knuckle-deep inside your hole. profanities leaving your lips all too easily as you felt yourself contract on him, he felt it too. “oh shit, fuck— you’re so tight already…” he seemed shocked, although he really shouldn’t have been, considering the tenacious rhythm he was taking on your cunt. “can’t wait to fuck you good.” he was practically moaning already, and you certainly didn’t want him stopping. you wished you could take all of him, all at once, that way there would be no need for him to leave you wanting more in between.

“you want that? hm? you wanna cum on my cock, pretty girl?” he asked breathlessly. “yeah— i need it so bad, p—lease fuck me.” you had never been so forward in your begging before, it left the both of you surprised. thanos had decided to finally give you what you wanted and removed his fingers from the tight confines of your pussy, drawing a whine from you at the loss of friction. “don’t worry baby, ‘m gonna give you what you need…” you squirmed as he unbuckled his pants, finally freeing his dick. despite you being laid down, you practically lowered yourself onto his cock with how eager you were; a light, harmonious moan leaving both of your guys’s lips as you did so. he was just as merciless with his pace as he bottomed out inside your cunt with his cock as he was with his fingers, quickly resuming that pace.

“fuck, god you feel so good for me…” he panted, causing you to clench onto his dick even harder. whether it had been the high, or thanos’s thankless pace, you could only communicate in moans at this point. you felt as though you were actually seeing stars as he moved your leg up to his shoulder, allowing him to hit that sweet spot. “yeah? is that were you like it, bitch?” he teased, knowing full well by the intensity of your moans that he was doing damn good.

he wasn’t sure how long he was going to hold out himself, with the way things were going he could feel himself approaching climax. “gonna..gonna cum—i’m gonna cum, fuck” you sputtered as thanos quickened his pace, feeling like your core was going to explode from all this pleasure. “oh fuck, i’m close..i’m close—“ he moaned before quickly bottoming out inside you one final time, as the two of you cried out simultaneously.

as the two of you laid beside one another, looking up at the ceiling, you felt yourself begin to come down from your high (both the sexual and cannabis induced ones). god, you definitely needed to blaze up before fucking more for sure.

══════════════════

thanks so much for reading as always! i apologize if it feels rushed, i meant to have this finished yesterday!

thank you @gxslllle for the request! idk why tumblr wouldn’t let me save the draft for your response but i hope you enjoyed :)

as usual, any and all advice/constructive criticism on how to improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a great day/night lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga

[etherealrin]

⋆˚࿔ thinking about megumi and stray cats…

“what the hell?” you bite back scream when you open your door, which bumps into something solid with a thud!

“please, take her in!” fushiguro megumi’s head is in a deep bow, slightly red from where the door had hit him, his hands held out in a pleading gesture. you raise one eyebrow.

“didn’t take you to be such an animal lover,” you mutter. “then again shikigami are basically the same thing, i guess.”

the thing in question, hiding behind megumi, meows loudly as if it were protesting to being spoken about in such a way. you walk outside to face megumi and the kitten cowering behind him. its fur is a glossy, midnight black, and it hisses at you to no effect. you scoff, crouching down to be at eye level with the feline.

“and this is?”

“i found her during my recent mission. she was so scared at first, and it seemed like she had inconsiderate owners, so i fed her…and she’s been following me all the way since!” megumi blurts under your unamused gaze.

“i would say this is out of character for you, but you do have a tendency to save odd things, like itadori for example.” you laugh at that.

“so…you’ll take her in?” he asks hopefully, eyes begging. the cat seems to understand what needs to be done, giving an equally desperate look to you. you sigh, checking to make sure no one was near, lest gojo sensei find you two.

“i’ll agree to keep her in my room on two conditions.”

“fine.” he sighs loudly.

“one: you take full responsibility if we get in trouble for this,” you wag a finger at the boy with black bangs.

“done.”

“two: we share ownership, looking after a cat all the time is too much work for one person.”

“how will we do that if she lives with you?” megumi questions. it’s pitch silent around you, given the absurdly late hour.

“you have to come to us, einstein,” you deadpan. “just use your jujutsu shadow teleportation or whatever, it can’t be that difficult for you!”

oh. ohhhhhh. something suddenly dawns on megumi, and he can’t stop the blood suddenly rushing through his face, painting his cheeks red. his heart flips around his ribcage.

“what now?” you groan, confused by his sudden change in demeanor.

“nothing…” this was so stupid. he shouldn’t even be thinking about you in that way! megumi would rather take it to the grave than tell you that he just imagined the two of you as the cat’s parents, and that he wouldn’t even mind that—

“spit it out,” you poke at his shoulder.

“it’s just that, i feel like you’re the mom and i’m the dad.”

“fushigu- WHAT??”

“good night!” you barely catch the words with how fast he’s said them. and then he’s gone off running back to his own room on the other side of the school, so he doesn’t catch your face which mirrors the same blush and crooked grin he had seconds ago.

bonus: “kugisaki, why does fushiguro always disappear around 9 pm?” yuuji questions. “huh?? like hell i’d know,” nobara scoffs. “i’m not some omniscient narrator!” “i’ve noticed it too,” maki whispers, behind the two. they both jump. “i smell a solution,” nobara declares. yuuji’s all ears, leaning in. “we follow fushiguro.” she smiles. “kugisaki, you’re amazing!” high praises from yuuji ensue. that night they do stalk megumi back to your room, ensuring a safe distance. “why’s he here?” maki whispers. “this is girl’s dorms…” “could it be…it’s like that?” loud meows cut through, and your voice rings clear. “you forgot to clean her litter box yesterday!” you snap. “did i?” fushiguro’s voice echoes back. the two of you squabble for a bit, and the three stalkers share a knowing look. “it is like that.” they concluded.

a/n: maybe ooc megumi here…but i think he would take in strays

ılılılılılılı now playing: i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys, talk by beabadoobee, can i call you tonight? by dayglow

masterlist!