#I WANT TO WORDS MORE BUT I JUST KEEP STARING INTO SPACE THINKING ABT HER AAA. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaseadrian · 2 years

Text

white sheets, bloodied shirt part 1

After months of stolen glances and stilted conversation, Bruce Wayne finds it in himself to go after you. But there’s something about him that’s hiding, & you’re not sure you want to find out what that is. PART TWO

pairing: bruce wayne (2022) x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, “friends” with benefits, angst, bruce is stifling his feelings, receiving oral, unspoken emotions, emotionally stunted bruce :( word count: 3.7k+ a/n: this is my first time writing 2022 bruce and it was a struggle because i just want fluff all the time lol. going from a character who’s 100% honest abt his feelings to one who is the saddest, most emotionally arrested guy ever was a feat lol but i hope yall like it!!

Bruce never looked at you during sex. He could barely look at you outside of sex, his eyes always cast downward when you went for a visit with your Aunt Dory, grumbled greetings and his voice hushed when he spoke to her, sparing you a glance or two.

Despite his best efforts to keep you at a distance, he couldn’t help himself when you showed up one day several months after your first visit. When you found him lounging in the library, hunched over an open book with the fireplace roaring, he’d told you Dory had gone out of town for personal reasons.

“Oh, alright, well. I’ll uh, I’ll give her a call. Thanks, Mr. Wayne.” As you’d turned to leave, he shut the book and stood up, strolling over to the doorway, hands in the pockets of his black sweats.

He hovered near you, shoulders drawn inward as he tried bringing himself down to your height, “You can stay, if you want.”

Still not looking at you, he inched closer, fixing your bodies in the corridor before he reached around you to grab the door handle. He was closer now than he’d ever dared to be before, the wide berth of the door affording you time to answer the question he postured. An unspoken inquiry as to whether you’d duck under his arm to leave, abandoning the prospective culmination of months marked by loaded stares, or stay and give in to the sallow mystery standing before you.

You chose the latter.

Stepping into the library as he shut the door behind you, he stood fixed in front of it to watch you admire the high shelves filled with more books than you could dream of having. Picking out a well-worn edition of The Catcher in the Rye, you started flipping through the pages, reading the scrawled notes in the margins.

“That was my father’s favorite book.” Bruce took a couple steps towards you, keeping himself equidistant from you and the door, like he was preparing to escape at any given time. Much about him read as desperate for escape; he hovered in doorways, ate standing up, and always had a foot turned toward the nearest exit. There was no present moment for him, just a space to fill until he could take his leave.

“He read it to me as a child.” A smile flashed over his face, “I didn’t care for it.”

You looked down at the floor. Every part of him was facing you.

Sliding the book back in its space on the shelf, you started closing the distance between you two, “No? Why not?”

Bruce looked at you, his blue eyes awash with a wan sorrow that drew you in deeper.

“I think he wanted to show me what kind of man not to be.” He winced when you made your way into his space, but didn’t make any move to distance himself.

“Well, did it work?” You brought a hand up to his face, tracing a finger from the imprint of his cheekbone up into his hair. He closed his eyes, his lips pressing into a flat line as he did his best to accept your touch. You lowered your voice to a whisper, “What kind of man are you?”

Bruce slipped his hand from his pocket and grabbed your wrist, freeing your hand from his hair, his eyes darting around your face, “I’m still figuring it out.”

You looked at him with surprise. His grasp was firm, but you knew he’d let go at any indication of resistance. Though you knew about as much as the public did about Bruce, you could tell there was something in him just wanting to be loved, to be seen. You couldn’t promise you were capable of either, but in this moment, on the precipice of something more than the fleeting glances and requisite nods of acknowledgement, you wanted to give him both.

“That’s okay.” You took a step forward, the distance between you now smaller than acceptable for two people who weren’t even on a first name basis.

Bruce was quick to let go when you flexed your wrist, hand dropping back to his side, his entire body going stiff when you placed your palm flat against his cheek. His eyelids fluttered, rigid muscles melting until he was leaning into the touch. He turned to press a kiss into your hand.

It was as though the kiss opened a floodgate for Bruce, his hands shooting out from his sides to your waist, pulling you in for a real kiss. His lips trembled as he picked you up, shuddering breaths escaping into your mouth while he situated a hand around your waist, the other on the back of your head, knotting in your hair. Each kiss was careful, but his lips closed over yours as though the world started and ended with them. Harder and hungrier and more confident with every second you kissed him back. The feeling of his tongue in your mouth sent sparks down your throat and into your stomach, lighting a fire that he stoked with the languid wash of his lips.

His breathing never steadied, but he’d stopped trembling and now held you closer as he carried you to the sitting area, setting you down to lay on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. Bruce slid his shirt off, tossing it onto the chair he’d been sitting in when you arrived, and ducked back down to meet your lips.

Making his way from your lips to your neck, he unbuttoned your top, lips trailing behind his fingers as he made his way between your legs, eyes darting up as he affixed a hand to the buttons on your jeans. You nodded, and he slid them down your thighs, gripping under your knee to slide each pant leg off one after the other.

He ran his hands along the outer skin of your thighs, arched back flattening on the rug in front of you, and his lips anchored to your cunt after a few well-placed kisses. His mouth was a hot vent of magma, tongue burning your clit like tap water on a boiling stove. The rest of your body lit up with the fireplace next to you, radiant heat scorching your left side, building until you had no choice but to wrench your shirt off.

Bruce moved a hand from around your thigh to over your lower abdomen, holding you down when you started lifting your hips against him. The swirl of his tongue on your clit made it impossible not to fight against his grip, to wrest away from the soft rug at your back, but you only succeeded in frustrating Bruce. The muscles in his back strained as he held you down now with both hands, his forearm hooked against your legs to pull you tighter to his mouth. He flattened his tongue, swiping it from your pulsing entrance back up to your clit, lapping up the viscous mixture of his spit and your arousal. The tip of his tongue skated around your clit before he closed his lips, a vacuum of pressure that dizzied your brain, the soft hum in his throat a harbinger for what was to come.

You reached blindly until your hand hit the wooden leg of the chair nearest you, fingers wrapping around the grain. Your free hand flew to his hair, pressing him into your cunt asking for just like that and yes, fuck and more.

The warmth of his tongue was a blister in your stomach, his hands a boundary of the space you needed to escape, trapped between his grip and the rug underneath you. Everything he was doing to you was a motive to push and fight and escape, anything to relieve the tension he’d built. He wouldn’t let you, of course, and by the way your body convulsed, twitching and spasming when you finally leapt off that edge, you were grateful he’d been so firm. The orgasm was overwhelming, your brain turning to static as his touch shifted from pleasure to overstimulation, flicking over your clit until you had the composure to open your eyes and tell him enough.

It wouldn’t be enough for him.

He pushed up onto his knees, “Turn over.”

You did as he said, his hands on your hips twisting you over as you arched yourself up, still reeling from your orgasm. You were propped on your elbows, head hung between your arms as he pushed into you, a sharp gasp from your mouth, a broken moan from his.

One of his hands slid from the small of your back all the way up, palm flat, middle finger aligned with your spine. He snaked it around your throat, bringing your head up to see the reflection of him fucking you in the glass paneling of a case filled with rare books, his sweats shoved down mid-thigh. Your eyes caught his, and the transparent gaze bore into you, each thrust deepening the scowl on his lips.

His cock pushed into you again and again, and though you hadn’t seen it before you felt it, you could tell by the welling pressure in your abdomen that he was big. Each thrust stretching open your walls, a dull pain that had you wanting as much as he was willing to give.

The hand on your hip grabbed tighter as Bruce’s rhythm sped up, pressing deeper and harder as you fisted tufts of fabric between your fingers. You moaned into the hot air, feeling your walls clench around him, pulsing as he fucked you, the gargles of a groan catching in his throat. He forced them away; you could see it in the way his chest swelled with air, breath held until he could swallow the noises your dripping cunt drew from him.

Bruce’s hips slapped against your ass, each thrust like a wet washcloth hurled at a tile wall, loud and offensive and enough to throw you over the edge a second time. The moans coming from your lips were vile, all whiny and pleading, begging for his cock the way you begged for his mouth. He can’t help himself from groaning as you shake against him, the reflection in the mirror running himself ragged, the hand on your throat sliding down your chest, into your bra to play with your nipple.

The skin is taut, and he pinched it between his index and middle fingers, the remaining three squeezing dents in the damp skin, sweat trickling from your neck to the web of his hand.

He doesn’t give you any warning before he cums, naught more than the tensing of his entire body and the sharp removal of his cock. You feel the hot spattering of his cum on your back, watch as his face twists in the glass, eyes screwed shut, biting down hard on his bottom lip to keep himself from making noise, his hand stroking his shaft to release the entirety of his orgasm.

You’re fallen on the floor by the time he’s coming down, head resting atop your forearms, facing away from the burning flames. The feeling of soft tissue on your back draws your attention, and you look behind you to see Bruce cleaning up his mess, pulling from the box on the side table until all remnants of him are gone.

You expect him to return to his book, or to walk out of the room and leave you to see yourself out, but he surprises you by laying down on the rug. He doesn’t make a move to hold you, but he’s situated himself flush against you, shoulders pressed together, his knuckles grazing the skin of your thighs, and it’s enough.

And that’s how it is for the next several months. Lukewarm conversation, a glance spared your way, hushed phone calls late in the night inviting you back. He only ever looks at you in the reflection of the glass, only allows himself the barest of touches in the aftermath, can never bring himself to say your name.

You come back every time despite it all. Not because he fucks well, not because he’s rich, but because you know the dam will break and one day he’ll let you give him what he wants.

—

It was a foggy Sunday night, and you slipped into the manor via a sidedoor Bruce had made you a key for. He was expecting you, but when you walked into the library, it was silent and empty. The fire wasn’t blazing and there were no lights on, no Bruce to be found.

No bother, your presence around the manor wasn’t exactly a secret, there’d be no harm if you explored the dark hallways and made your way to Bruce’s room. He had fucked you in there a handful of times, but the library had become a kind of safe haven for you two, and you were pretty confident he liked meeting your eyes in the glass.

The corridors were illuminated by sconces on the wall, dim orange light casting shadows as you padded along the hardwood floors. The rugs did well enough muffling your steps, but the floor still creaked underneath your weight. Much of the manor was still a mystery to you. When you visited Dory, you were often confined to the kitchen or living room. And with Bruce, well, he’d dragged you to a couple of the unused bedrooms in addition to his own, and always the library. Not wanting to push him farther than he was prepared to go, you thought it best to leave closed doors closed.

Rounding the corner of the entry hallway, you came face to face with a wider, shorter hallway. More like a waiting room than anything else, panel molding on the walls, empty save for some decorative chairs and side tables. You stepped further into the room, looking to either side to check if there was a door you missed or something.

Nothing.

As you turned around to leave, your foot smacked into a bump in the rug.

“Fuck!” You lifted your foot, freezing in place while the pain subsided, your gaze stuck on the lump.

You walked over to the edge of the rug, lifting it up and taking out your phone to use the flashlight. It looked to be the excess from poorly sautered metal, a thin slit defining the two panels of steel. Your eyes followed the line all the way to the main molding on the back wall, and you dropped the rug to stand back up, dusting the dirt from the floor off your knees and knocking on the wall.

It was hollow, and when you pushed on the center of the wood, it clicked and slid right into the wall, leaving you face to face with a dark corridor barely illuminated by pale yellow lights.

Against your better instincts, you stepped through the doorway, turning your flashlight back on until the lights grew brighter and you found yourself at the top of a cascading double stairway. Dirt stained tile lined the walls, and your eyes followed them down to the brown tiled floors, sweeping across the rusting train tracks over what looked to be a command center of some sort.

You took the left staircase, each step echoing a slap into the cavern. Water pooled in the cracked cement, dripping from the ceiling, all high beams and rusting rivets. Your eyes caught the opaque bulbs of street lamps, attached to the mouth of the staircase, and you turned around as you stepped onto the ground floor, taking in the entirety of the room behind you.

Wayne Terminal

It was stuck on the arch of the staircase, copper letters greening atop mildewed stone, streaked with water stains. You weren’t even out of elementary school when the Wayne murders took place, so if there had been news about some elaborate new train terminal sponsored by the mayor elect, it wouldn’t have been on your radar. By the way you entered, however, you suspected the more likely scenario was that it was meant to be kept secret, slotted to fall derelict and unused the second Thomas and Martha were no longer of this world.

Except, someone was using it.

Did Bruce know? Alfred? Was it dumb luck that some stranger wandered into the terminal and decided to set up shop, somehow not knowing or caring they were underneath the manor to Gotham’s heir apparent?

A million thoughts flooded your brain as you walked through the elaborate tech, several glowing monitors setup for multiple workstations, what looked to be some sort of crime lab littered in mugshots and manila folders, and a dark vehicle tucked underneath the staircase.

You’d just started inching toward the car when the flood of bright lights into the cavern propelled you to a sprint. Diving behind the front of the car, you peeked out to see a figure riding up from underneath the ground into the cavern, obscured by the blinding headlights. As the vehicle slowed to a stop, you could just make out two little prongs sticking out from their head before they turned out the lights.

It was the fucking Batman.

They swung a leg over the bike and stood next to it, hands raising to the sides of their mask. This was so much worse than you’d anticipated.

It was fucking Bruce.

Everyone in Gotham figured that the Batman was backed by some generous benefactor, maybe a puppet for the Gotham PD (that was the crowning theory until the Riddler incident,) or a way for some rich bon vivant to channel their money into helping the city without losing their carefree reputation. Nobody would’ve expected the man behind the mask to actually be the son of Gotham.

“Bruce?” You stood up from behind the car, treading over to him with slow steps until you were in the open. “Bruce you’re…you’re Batman? How—”

He froze, and as always it was on you to bridge the gap, to bring him back, so you kept moving forward.

The edge in his voice said otherwise, his shoulders steeling, a frown embedded in his mouth as he turned his body towards you, “Get out.”

You continued closing the space between you, outstretching a hand, prepared to hold his forearm, to reassure him that it didn’t matter. Though every nerve in your body was alight with fear, screaming at you to leave and run and never step foot on the grounds again, you wouldn��t. You could never, because even though he only ever found the courage to look at you through the glass, he still had the courage to look at all. To touch you and let himself go, allowing himself something—someone, that was just his.

You didn’t want to fix him, or change him, you wanted to open him. He would always be held by some unshakeable deity of torment, and you could share your space with that fact, but you’d seen him smile, seen the way he brought your aunt tea during your visits, never expecting her to sacrifice her time with you. There were new flowers in the library every time you visited, and an invitation to sleep in his bed after every evening you spent together. He wasn’t all trembling lips and hunching shoulders.

He loved your aunt, he loved Alfred, and against everything you’d expected to feel about him when you first stepped into the library, you wanted him to love you, too.

But he slammed the mask down on the table closest to him, making you jump and freeze in place. There was a stiff silence in the cavern, suspended against even the screeching bats that had stirred at the rumbling of the bike, now settled back into the darkness.

“Bruce I don’t care, it doesn’t—” You stayed where you were, but outstretched your hand toward him. It was a last ditch effort in a moment you knew could mark the end of everything you’d built over the last eight months, your fingers shaking as you reached for him. It was the same silent question he’d asked all that time ago with the closing of the door, and the tremors in your hand begged for the firmness of his, pleading for him to reach out, give in.

You whispered, “It doesn’t matter.” The pit in your throat brought tears to your eyes as you looked at him, everything in you saying, don’t abandon me.

He closed his eyes, stiff jaw flexing as he bit back whatever he was trying to keep from saying.

Bruce met your gaze once he’d swallowed the words, the smudged black warpaint around his eyes served as a menacing harbinger of the next moment. No man’s land circling the pulpit of a warzone, blue eyes burning into you. There was no going back from this.

“I said get out.” His stare remained glued to you, and you wished more than anything to go back to the stolen glances and blurry reflections.

“Bruce, please.”

“Get out!” He didn’t raise his voice to a full yell, but there was a thickness to it that you wouldn’t argue with, the heaving of his chest telling you he was close to storming out himself, close to breaking down into whatever forms of self torture he submitted to.

So you turned away from him and ran up the steps, blistering hot tears blurring your vision as you stumbled through the dark corridor, a hand scraping on the rugged wall to guide you back into the manor. Your stomach churned with nausea as you sped through the hallway past the library, clasping a hand over your mouth to keep from sobbing, the distinct taste of metal on your lips. You pulled it back to see the palm of your hand scraped to shit, the skin only stinging harder as you stepped out the front door into the cold night air of the city.

Standing on the marbled veranda of the manor, you bunched the loose fabric of your shirt into your hand, holding it tight until the strain of muscle hurt more than the open cuts, and the chill of the wind was all you could focus on.

With tears feeling like ice on your cheeks, you ran down the steps to your car, speeding off through the tree lined driveway. You looked in your rearview mirror at the estate; the front door was open, a warm glow silhouetting Bruce in the doorway.

He grew smaller with each passing moment, and you fixed your eyes back on the road.

You afforded him no further glances.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x you #battinson x you #batman x reader #batman x you #my writing #mine

783 notes · View notes

dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

i think that although the theories/aus of puffy's son dream and wil's brother dream are interesting to think about, especially the implications, the (probably) canon statement that he really has no family to me hits the hardest. because it's just dream, you know. his friends hate him, he has none (p relatable), but i can't really imagine,, both not having friends and not having a family. that's kind of what keeps a lot of us sane and okay ( - quill anon (same anon from the c!tubbo c!wil ask) )

ouch quill anon ,, this ask Hurt. it’s true - usually, it’s our family and friends that keep us going, that are the ones that we fight for and live for and love for. c!dream’s “family” was his reasoning behind ,, a lot of the stuff he did, good or bad, and even now you can hear his desperation in getting someone, anyone to visit sometimes, in wanting to know how people are doing outside the cell.

at the same time, he’s a character very much defined by his solitude, by his isolation, by all of the time he has spent,, alone. by the alliances that had been broken, betrayed, forgotten. by how- at the end of the day - he sits for hours on end in an obsidian box with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. it’s awfully ,, sad, despite everything he’s done. through it all, he’s alone. he survives the horrors of the vault (until this current arc) alone. nobody’s there to hear his thoughts. nobody knows his mindset, or feelings, or wants, or anything that really makes him human. for someone so driven by people, he spends so much time completely isolated - and it’s. honestly really, really tragic.

anyway, this is a sad little drabble set pre-roommates arc abt c!dream in the prison, alone, bc he makes me Sad.

tw: mentioned torture, abuse, violence, broken bones, blood, injuries, mental deterioration, isolation, panic attacks, self-deprecation, trauma, memory loss, death, contemplations of death, dark content, dark imagery

The blank book in his hand stares at him stubbornly, the stark white of the untouched pages nearly burning his eyes, used to the dark walls and floor of the cell. Dream’s hand shakes around his quill, ink splotches marring the pages from where his too-unsteady hand had let the nib brush against the paper and left freckles of black spots behind. He pulls his thumb back from the bottom left corner, hissing slightly when it leaves a dull red fingerprint behind, a smudge of half-dried blood further dirtying the paper.

He’d pulled out one of the books for some reason, probably on a whim, letting his hands run over the leather spine and along the thread of the binding absentmindedly after Quackity left for the day. He hadn’t touched them in a while - he liked to save them, at the beginning, just in case visitors came and he wanted to thank them or if he needed to communicate (though he hadn’t gone silent since Sapnap left, ‘cause Sapnap wanted him to talk and he doesn’t know why he still clings to that visit when it’s been months and he still hasn’t come back, but he promised that if Dream behaved he’d visit again and - it’s stupid to hope, but Dream can’t give up, not yet) and then he kept them because he would need them for the revive book and the Warden would confiscate them, anyway, so it was better not to get attached. Regardless, he’d stubbornly ignored the chest of books for a long time, let the remain closed and the clasp go unlatched as he wasted his days away watching the walls drip bright purple and pretend he didn’t miss his clock.

Until now.

He runs his fingers along the surface of the paper again, ignoring the red and black smudges they leave in their wakes, ruining the previously unblemished pages. The paper is smooth, bearing a very slight grain, and smells clean and woody - this book must’ve been a newer one the Warden replaced into the chest. He’d counted the pages a few times, front and back - there are fifty sheets, so a hundred pages to use as he sees fit, completely empty and untouched. The quill shakes in his hand, the tip pressed against the paper, unmoving.

What is there to write?

He’s forgotten why he pulled out the book in the first place, already - his head keeps getting fuzzier, memory impossibly fragmented and seemingly worsening with every passing day. He knows he had a reason because he’d been very determined about it, had spent what must have been hours dragging himself along the obsidian floor with a broken shinbone jutting out of his right leg and a dislocated left shoulder that he’d taken an extra few minutes to jam back in place by pressing it against the floor. Something had come into his head, probably in the middle of Quackity’s daily session, and he’d found himself desperate to write it down before he forgot despite the throbbing of his head and the pain in his chest making it impossible to take a full breath.

(He must have talked back, or acted defiant, or something - he doesn’t remember much besides the look Quackity had given him after, dark and angry and tight with rage. There had been a hand tangled in his hair, a blade jammed right up against his throat, curses and screams in his ears dying into a singular ringing echo as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Quackity realized that he’d gone too deep and that Dream was choking on his own blood - his memories shatter, and there’s nothing but more screaming, red and black and blood everywhere, warm against his skin, the sweet-sour taste of glistening melon on his tongue, a healing pot desperately stitching his skin together and bringing him back from the darkness that he’d swelled in the corners of his vision - mostly, he remembers everything going cold and numb and he’d realized, halfway into the Void, that he would never leave the Vault alive.)

His hands tighten on the book as he breathes a shallow, harsh breath through his teeth, because - oh. Oh. He looks back at the trembling white plume in his hand, at his shaking fingers clenched tightly near the end, and he swallows the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. Quackity had- and he had- and then-

Right.

He forces air into his lungs steadily, counting the seconds off in his head. He’d learned how to stave off panic attacks on his own ages ago, and the knowledge had come to full use in the Vault - the struggle to stay calm seems harder with every passing day, but he can’t exactly risk himself passing out every three seconds when he’s inevitably set off by the smell of blood or a twinge of pain or any of the million other triggers crammed into this tiny box that’s been the source of all of his torment for months. He keeps up the slow, steady breathing for another few minutes, just enough time to pull back the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, and looks back down at the blank paper.

It stares back at him, almost judgmental of his hesitancy. You opened me up, it seems to challenge him, why aren’t you writing? The quill still shakes in his hand. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop shaking again.

Dear, he begins, almost in defiance, proof that he Is Going To Write Something, thank you very much, he isn’t just going to chicken out and leave it a blank book (like you have before?) but the quill tip digs into the paper as he grinds to a sudden halt, the empty space next to the first word nearly taunting. He feels his mouth dry, heat rising behind his eyes - the book, silent and blank as ever, stays imprinted in his vision even as he squeezes them shut.

Dear, what a stupid, sentimental way to start a letter. He can’t even fool himself into thinking of it as a business venture, turn it into an elaborate plan to escape and address it to either Techno or Wilbur (who would never receive his message anyway), not without admitting his regard for the two edged past his pretense of professional interested and owed favors. He can hardly write it to Ranboo, not without compromising their already fragile alliance (if it even exists, anymore. The enderman hybrid had yet to visit for months - and sure, it was probably for the best, who knows how Quackity would react if he found out about the nature of their relationship, but that didn’t make it sting any less.)

In the back of his minds, name rise from where he’d kept them carefully buried despite his best efforts. Punz. Bad. Puffy. Sapnap. George. He shakes his head, trying to wave away them from his thoughts, but the effort is as fruitless as it has always been - he stares at the first word angrily, like it has betrayed him, and receives no response. The words are messy, shaking, his script overly looping and rounded like a child’s. He hates it, hates how cheery it looks, even on the bloodstained page - it looks like the beginning of a birthday card, or a perhaps a particularly dedicated Halloween party invite. Like he’s some sort of lovesick teen, writing letters to crushes that would never pay him a second glance. He laughed a little, without any real humor - minus the romance, that description isn’t all that far off.

Because- well. His memories might be shot to all hell, but he doubts he’ll ever forget the hatred on Sapnap’s face, a loaded crossbow pointed between his eyes, George’s expression set in disinterested apathy - “George, you can give the word.” Bad’s face, twisted in pity and resignation, voice carefully measured as he looks away and gestures at the cell, “you did do some pretty bad stuff to get put in here though, Dream,” the hidden “you deserve it” that he’d heard, just as clearly behind the words. Punz - “you should’ve paid me more” - jaw set stiffly as people poured through the portal, watching, wordless, as Dream bled out twice on that blackstone floor. Puffy, poorly hidden disgust flickering over her face as she looks away from him being dragged away in chains, sword held steady in her hands. Sapnap, that same fiercely determined expression on his face so familiar that thinking of it aches, even now, “it’s gonna be me, who takes your final life.” Months and months and months and months, alone.

Always, always, alone.

The page makes a quiet, complaining groan under his pen - he looks down to see it torn under the tip of his quill, the word completely unreadable under line after line of black ink scratched over it, each one deeper than the last. He stares blankly at it for a few minutes longer, the brief flash of anger that had seared through his body settling into numbness once more.

To whoever may find this: he scratches the words on the page slowly, keeping his print deliberately blocky and neat. The heavy feeling in his throat returns, stronger than ever, and he ignores it as he pushes on.

He pauses for a moment, wondering what more to write. Apologies? Accusations? He could detail every second that he remembers from Quackity’s visits, describe every inch of pain that had been pulled from his aching lungs, every line etched into his skin. He could apologize for every act of cruelty that had ever been caused by his hands, every bridge he’d ever torched to light the path to a better future. He could explain - everything, every tortured thought that had circled his head for hours on end and every night that had passed without any sleep and every time he’d pushed on without complaint or hesitancy because it would be worth it, even if he was the only one who saw it, it would be worth it because he’d sacrifice too much for it to be anything but. He could- he could, he could write and write until he’d filled every page of every book back and front, and would they even believe him? Would it even matter?

Goodbye, he writes at last. It feels strangely final. (He won’t be leaving this Vault alive. He knows this as surely as he knows that he will leave this world uncared for, unheard. As surely as he knows that he’ll always be alone.) With a quick snap of magic following the signing of his name, the book is preserved, shining slightly with a purple glow as he sets it back down in the chest. He looks around, the cell once again stiflingly quiet without the book to busy him, Dream once again completely alone as he’s been for - well.

(Pandas, eyebrows drawn in uncharacteristic seriousness from the usually painfully spirited eight-year-old, pinkie raised between the two of them, solemnity belied by the gap in his front teeth poking out between his lips.

“We’ll be together forever,” he whispered with the volume control you’d expect from a kid that age, which is to say that it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, but Dream, newly ten years old, remembers being particularly moved by the gesture anyway, moving to hesitantly hook his own pinkie in the other’s.

“And we’ll never be alone ever again,” he’d replied, voice faraway with a disbelieving sort of awe.”

“Never,” Pandas’ voice had been just as firm as his first statement, twisting his wrist to tighten the grip of their linked fingers further. “Best friends for ever and ever, right?”

“For ever and ever.”)

“For ever and ever,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps down against the floor, and only the lava bubbles in reply.

#tw torture #tw abuse #tw violence #tw broken bones #tw injuries #tw mental deterioration #tw isolation #tw panic attack #tw self deprecation #tw trauma #tw memory loss #tw death #tw dark content #tw dark imagery #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks #quill anon !

180 notes · View notes

cheelduh · 3 years

Text

How to Not Kill a Ginger (High School Au!)

Part 5 to the series hehehe

Parts: 1 2 3 4

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Synopsis: Childe’s stomach stirs when you take care of him, and he’s not sure if it’s because of his major crush on you or just plain old diarrhea.

Warnings: Swearing. Graphic descriptions involving the true idiocy of teenage boys.

Words: Abt 2.6k

Note: Sorry I sort of half assed this. I have big ideas for the next part tho ✨😮‍💨

If there's one thing you're sure of, it's that Teucer knows how to throw one hell of a tantrum.

Him and his brother, Anthon, under your watch, manage to get into a petty squabble that's been airing for the last fifteen minutes. You've done everything, from offering candy to promising an extra hour on the switch, but your efforts do not bear fruit.

What did you tell Childe again? Oh yeah, that babysitting kids was a breeze. Apparently it's not a breeze. Maybe something more like a shart. A chunky, messy one at that.

"Listen dude," You reason to Anthon, the oldest of the bunch gently. "Where did you hide his toy?"

Anthon sticks a tongue out at you, and you nearly cry at the intensity of the insult. "Not telling."

Your patience runs thin.

"C'mon Anthon," Tonia lectures from her chair on the table like the godsend she is. "Just give him his toy back. You're being so annoying." She's taking the words right out of your mouth.

"Not until he apologizes!" Anthon crosses his arms, huffing. "He ate my cheese string!"

"There are more cheese strings!" You exclaim, opening the fridge to prove your point. "I'm sure Teucer's sorry for taking yours. Just pick another one."

"But it's not the same! He took the last cheddar and mozzarella one, now there are only mozzarella ones left." He speaks in between Teucer's wails. You wonder if this is a daily occurrence.

Tonia sighs, gets up from her chair, and hands the eldest her cheese string. "Just take this and give him his toy back."

Almost immediately, Anthon reaches a hand behind the tv table and pulls out the miniature Mr. Cyclops, then throws it point blank at Teucer's feet.

Teucer wails louder.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, shoulders sagging under the stress of being a temporary teenage mother.

Then you take a deep breathe, voice booming over Teucer's cries, Anthon's grumbling, and the clicking of Tonia's tongue. "Let's make a cake!"

Everything in the room stills. Even Teucer's loud cries comes to a halt, and he inhales so sharply that the streak of snot over his lip goes right back into its origin.

You wince inadvertently.

"Poggers!" Anthon cheers, and his siblings join in, laughing and clapping in excitement.

Tonia's eyes widen in confusion when she briefly pauses from her rally. "Wait a minute. What are we celebrating? We can't bake a cake for no reason! It won't taste nearly as good."

Everyone stops to ponder.

Then you snap your fingers in realization, and the kids huddle around you. "How about a 'get well better' cake for your big brother?"

They erupt in cheers again, but you shush them gently, wink an eye for extra measure. "We have to be quiet! He won't get better if we wake him."

The three nod in understanding and begin shushing each other, failing to conceal their giggles.

As you watch them making their way into the kitchen, bounce in their steps, you can't stop the warm smile that reaches your eyes.

That smile soon becomes a frown of horror when Anthon cracks an egg over Tonia's head.

The cake is not half as bad as you thought it would be initially. Between mixing the ingredients and ceasing the kids minus Tonia from being menaces to society, you were able to find middle ground.

Eventually Anthon found interest in finding ways to lick the batter whenever you turned around, and Teucer found comfort in your left leg, latching onto it as if it were a life line.

Just like how Venti latches onto his stupid little bottle of wine disguised as a water bottle. Seriously, you’ve never talked to him sober, and at this point are afraid of what’s he’s like lucid.

Tonia had been the only one taking things seriously for the most part, except for the sprinkles-to-icing ratio. She drowned the entire cake in sprinkles, the mere sight adding on the ghost of an ache in your teeth.

It looks like twilight sparkles took a fat dump on it.

"Okay besties," You inwardly curse yourself for giving into Gen-Z vocabulary as you brush your hands on the apron. "I think we've done a pretty decent job."

"It looks so pretty!" Tonia grins widely, eyeing the edible pearls she strategically placed. She quickly strikes down a finger Anthon tried to poke into the icing, with the accuracy of a true warrior.

You shudder at the thought of Childe teaching her how to stab someone with safety scissors.

"Can we add candles?" Teucer asks, but Tonia clicks her tongue in distaste.

"It's not a birthday cake." She crosses her arms judgementally. The power in her glare reminds you of La Signora, strangely enough.

You ruffle his copper coloured locks anyways, and his grip on your thigh tightens. "We can add candles if you want Teucer."

He nods his head and snuggles deeper into the side of your leg. Your heart warms up considerably.

After the candles are poked in, you try to shrug him off. "C'mon dude, just for five minutes. You don't want me to drop the cake before your brother can get a bite do you?"

Reluctantly, he obliges, and runs off to help Tonia collect utensils to take up to Childe's room.

Anthon's on door duty, kicking away any toys that serve as obstacles in your way like a professional soccer player.

Once you four make it up the stairs in front of the designated room, Anthon doesn't bother knocking. He barges in like he owns the place, chin up high and a signature smirk on his face that he probably learnt from his older brother.

Childe fumbles awake, kicking the air whilst in shock by the chaotic sound of the door hitting the wall and Teucer screaming "Happy Birthday!" at the top of his miniature sized lungs as he runs in to plop right on top of his older brother.

His bewildered expression soon turns into something of a loving smile as he begins to process what is happening, eyes lighting up despite the deep bags that frame them.

Tonia places the plates on his side table, right next to the empty soup bowl you placed there earlier. She climbs up onto the bed as well to join in on the hug.

Anthon approaches at last, hands in his pockets as he coolly acknowledges his older brother. Instead of a bone-crushing hug like the other two are indulging in, his opts for a fist bump that Childe happily reciprocates.

Then finally, between the shield that are his siblings, his cerulean eyes land on your near the doorway, then trail down to the cake in your oven-mittened hands. He averts his gaze back to your own, and grins so wide his cheeks start to throb.

"Big brother! We made you cake." Teucer moves his head from his chest to face him. "So you can get better."

Childe's laughs ring in your ears, but you don't shy away from the sound. It's a pleasant, something that you wish to hear more of in the near future. Sure enough he laughs a lot at school, but the genuineness of it at home, surrounded by his siblings, stirs something deep within you.

"How thoughtful of you." He ruffles his hair, then his eyes widen as he ushers the two off of him. "You guys can't be near me! I don't want you to fall ill as well."

"But-but how will we feed you the cake without getting close to you?" Tonia frowns, and her two brothers nod in unison.

You chuckle lightly, approaching the bed with the cake in your hands. "I'm sure he has enough strength to feed himself. The hugs and kisses surely must've energized him."

To be honest, Childe's all green in the face and the last thing on his mind would be to indulge in the cake. You understand the feeling all to well. With his nose clogged up, throat all sore, there's no way he'll stomach it. It took a lot of nagging on your part to get him to finish the soup earlier as well.

He blows the candles anyways, clapping along his siblings and letting Tonia drop a fat chunk of the golden cake onto his plate. You find it endearing, regrettably so. His dedication to keeping their dreams is admirable in more ways than you can count.

This is the same guy that wears meme shirts to school, topped off with douchey sunglasses to give him a pristine vibe. The same guy that punches holes in walls like a Kyle. The very boy that flexes his toned biceps in-front of you during lunch time, successfully ruining your appetite.

"Wait a minute..." Childe inspects the cake closely, narrowing in on the candles. "Why is there an eleven?"

Teucer scratches his neck sheepishly. "Those were the only candles we had left."

After another short-lived laugh, Childe manages a bite as everyone stares in expectation, the sound of a tight crunch enveloping the room, making you grimace in secret. If Childe feels like puking out his guts right now, he's doing a hell of a job hiding it from his darling siblings.

You're glad nobody forces you to take a bite, or it would've been a double homicide right then and there.

Soon enough, one by one the children file out of the room, satisfied with their visit. The reality is that they don't want to miss an episode of backyardigans.

Once they leave, you approach him with a napkin. He gets the gist, spitting out the remnants of the cake you slaved over for about two hours.

"Colour me impressed." You snort, moving the cake aside so you can take a seat on the open space next to him. "How're you feeling?"

"Amazing." He exclaims, eyes red like a crackhead's, nose runny, with goosebumps kissing his pale skin. He sure does look...amazing.

"Cool." You say, abruptly getting up. "I'm gonna vibe with the kid—"

His hand shoots out from underneath the blanket, clammy palms wrapping around your wrist to keep you locked in place. You gulp in anticipation.

"You kissed me." Childe reminds you, eyes twinkling in mischief, a vicious grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

You try not to choke on your words. "You have circumstantial evidence at most." No attempts are utilized to pull away from him.

He raises a teasing brow, and you give in because the tension is thick. Thicker than the tension between Albedo and Kaeya when the latter shamelessly unzips his front to show more of his biddies. You have no idea why he hasn’t been dress coded yet.

"Fine." You snap out of your impure thoughts, and huff out, frustrated all over. "I kissed you on the cheek."

"Still a kiss though."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. Also, cute nails." He points out, hand moving down to grasp your fingers. The act is intimate, his caress gentle and caring. Despite his brash, violent personality, he shows you a completely different side to him that hatches butterflies in your stomach.

"Thanks." You show off the bright jewels on your index. "You have a real nail technician in the house."

Tonia has some serious talent.

When he taps one of the jewels, you slap his hand away. "Careful there dude. These cost me a fortune."

His chuckles die down and he smiles again, but this time apologetically. "They didn't trouble you too much did they? I know they can be loud."

"I like loud." You answer him truthfully. "They're fun to be around. Not nearly as chaotic as you."

He blinks in mock offence, eyes narrowing shrewdly. "You come into my house, talk to my siblings, and have the nerve to insult me? Right after taking advantage of me?"

"If you don't shut up, I'll also have the nerve to rip you a new one." You reply dryly with the innocent curl of your lips.

"Bet."

You're about to lunge at him and scream a string of obscenities that no one has ever heard of before, but the Archons are listening and you don't want his siblings to grow up without someone to look up to. Wait a minute—scratch that. You'd be doing them a favour if you wiped his existence right here and now.

You have a fragile heart though. So you sigh, and grab a fistful of sheets in both hands instead.

Childe's grin turns into a petrified scowl.

"Oh no," He pleads, weakly fighting you back. "Have mercy! Please!"

You have loads of mercy. Just not enough for him.

When you have him wrapped in a successful bundle, Childe can’t help but beam, laying limp in his confines.

“What are you smiling about?” You inquire, pulling out the medicine from his box, pausing momentarily in shock. “Wait a minute, don’t tell me you’re into these things you freak.” Head snaps up so fast you nearly suffer from whiplash.

He’s about to answer you but his words turn into a fit of shallow coughs.

“I’m into whatever you’re into.” Childe’s shrug is nonchalant. “Even if that means I have to be tied up. Kinky by the way.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you hold the spoon up. The dark reddish medicine swirls in deep hues.

“Shut up and open your mouth.”

“Girlie, I don’t think you understand how contradicting that statement is.”

You momentarily wonder if it’s too late to abort yourself.

—

Childe awakens at the crack ass of night, sweat slick, sticky all over, tousled hair sticking to his forehead. He’s a panting mess, eyes darting around the dark room, inhaling, exhaling, mind in a haze from the fever. Gaining somewhat of a grip on reality, he fumbles around to turn on his lamp, throat parched and in need of water.

When he manages to find the switch, he recoils at the brightness, adjusting to the sudden change in his vision. On his side table, there’s a bologna sandwich tucked safely in plastic wrap, a glass of room temperature water, and a bottle of painkillers.

His eyes disregard most of the things, finding interest in the bright pink sticky note next to the painkillers. Unable to ignore the dryness of his throat and the pounding of his head, he quickly gulps a pill down with most of the water, instantly feeling the relief of hydration.

Then, he pounces on the note, giddiness overtaking him despite the pang in his muscles, and the general feeling of absolute shit.

I had to leave. Don’t worry about your siblings, they’re all tucked in and fine. Except for Anthon maybe. Apparently he’s mildly lactose intolerant and thought it was a good idea to overdose on chocolate milk when I was busy with Teucer. Anyways, get better soon stupid.

— Y/N

He safely tucks the note under his pillow, edges of his lips turned upwards, warmth flooding his veins when he takes another look around his surroundings.

The room itself is cleaned, floor cleared from the initial clutter and the cool shiny collector’s knives he buys off of Amazon safely hung over the wall, not littered on his desk like they usually are.

The homework he was supposed do, but most likely wouldn’t, is already completed, stacked neatly atop each other.

Childe swears his heart bursts in his chest, exploding into tiny particles that overheat his entire body.

There’s no way in hell a few days worth of homework is gonna bring his failing mark up, but then again it’s the thought that counts.

While the sandwich is catered to his nausea, bland and plain for easy digestion, an easy fill, it’s the best meal he’s ever had in his life.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe #childe x reader #fanfic #genshin oneshot #genshin tartagalia #kaeya alberich #tartagila #venti genshin impact #albedo #teucer #genshin archon #tartagalia x reader #tartagalia genshin impact

169 notes · View notes

cherrysha · 3 years

Text

Run

Remember when i posted abt lumberjack a/b/o Uvo? well here it is!! shoutout again to ram fr helping me with this piece!! This is my first attempt at a longer story with more plot. Part of me wanted to break it up into more chapters but I like the build up thats there by keeping it in one piece. Its my take on abo (I know some people love it and some absolutely hate it but the lewding potential was too much for me to pass up) Very loosely based off of this song by hozier

Summary: Alphas are rare, Omegas even moreso. The standard for society is being a Beta, but unfortunately you weren’t born as one. Being an Omega is a presentation so detestable that it’s hard to even survive. In an era where it’s completely normal to cast you from the village for simply existing, to keep you blind from what it is to truly be an Omega, will there be any respite for you? (Yes, this is a period piece)

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: A/B/O, dubcon (since the readers in heat), predator/prey, a little blood, one slap, breeding, overstimulation, unprotected sex

“Do you ever get the feeling that they are lying to you?” you stare at the weathered wooden boards of the porch before you dare to glance at her face. The miller’s daughter was an omega as well, and often you found yourself gravitating to her if only out of comfort. The one of few in the village that could relate to you. She looked so soft in the morning sun, so lighthearted and gentle as she picked at the frayed patchwork of her dress.

“I don’t like to think about it too much or else I scare myself, y/n” she giggles.

So Naïve.

You mull it over before coming to the conclusion that you and her are not the same. “I guess I understand”

Her father always says she’s too kind, but that’s exactly what was so endearing. A world where it was normal to treat people like you and her as lesser, and she was still so kind. Absently, you wondered if you'd ever see her again after her next heat. It had been too long since an omega went missing.

“Will you still be walking with me to the market?”

“Ah, mother seems to have found some extra fabric that had been tucked away somewhere, so I suppose not. However, I’m glad you came to visit y/n!” she giggles as you stick your tongue out at her like a child.

The walk there gives you an opportunity to think of her words. Was denial better than the fear that came along with the truth?

Plenty of omegas had gone missing. When you were younger, the elders would tell you that there was a man who lived on the edge of the forest. He wasn't an alpha, or a beta, or even an omega. He was only a monster.

The path stretches before you and the heat of the summer sun is almost enough to make you turn around. But you persist, the idea of returning home empty handed was enough to make you ignore the sting on the back of your neck.

This man, this beast, would eat omegas. That’s why it was important to return home before dark, the man in the forest used the cover of night to hunt; to take. that’s why omegas always went missing in the village.

You momentarily take refuge in the cool water in the creek on the outskirts of the village, watching idly as water swirled around your bare feet.

When were you old enough to realize the flaws of that story? Was it your first heat? When with shaky hands, your mother had packed you enough provisions for the week and whispered for you to leave? Or was it the anger in your father’s voice when you asked to stay and he bitterly told you that omegas only brought misfortune?

You sigh. No, it was the day you'd found out one of the few remaining omegas hadn’t come back and that truth had only been a hard pill to swallow for you. No one seemed to care, it was as if the man in the forest didn’t scare them, had never scared them.

Not much sooner had you made the connection. Alphas were few and far between, but omegas were even more scarce. The ones who couldn’t find omegas settled down with betas, but what would a married alpha do when an unclaimed omega went into heat? Only the forest knew.

Sometimes you wished the beast was real, and still the lie had persisted. The younger omegas believed it to be the wood smith and while he was a recluse, so much so that you'd never even seen him, he was far too young to be the monster from your youth. He’d only made his appearance in the village every so often, and in truth he hadn’t lived in the area for that long. You let them hold on to their delusion instead, not wanting to be the one to burst their bubble.

Your heat was many moons away, but the fear of living still persisted.

The water feels nice on your neck, gentle and cooling as you scoop handfuls of it over your burning skin. It makes you forget about everything for a second, soothing over you like an expensive balm. Somehow, It reminds you of when you were little, before you presented and the friends you'd made in the village. Small and unassuming, no worries about presentation or etiquette. Just young and carefree. The thought brings a smile to your face.

Now, boys your age would rather die than be seen with an Omega, not that you cared about their indifference. In their minds it was completely warranted, and in yours the Betas had nothing to offer you. You both saw each other as fundamentally useless. No one gave mind to insects, most of the time they were just there. Some were cruel, yes, but most went their way, and you went yours. That was the best you could ask for.

Sighing, you pick the coin purse out of your pocket, taking a moment to count the few coins your mother had given you.

It was barely enough to buy thread, but you weren’t surprised. Her and father were still angry that you'd ripped another hole in your dress again since it was one of the little clothing items they had granted you. If it weren’t for the fact that the hole steadily became bigger, threatening the integrity of the entire garment, you don’t think it would’ve been mended at all.

The wind swirls around you, reminding you of your task and the repercussions of wasting time.

With a grunt, you force yourself back up and onto the road, sidestepping a rather large man carrying probably one of the largest baskets of wood you'd ever seen.

Mother says that its impolite to stare, so you don’t let your gaze linger for too long, but the sight was unusual to say the least. He’s tall, so tall in fact that you have to peer up to even try to see his face, eventually you give up and your gaze ends at the well toned muscles of his chest that are thinly veiled underneath a rather dingy tunic. You couldn’t judge him, right now you were wearing the same dress that desperately needed patching up. Still, he was somewhat of an unbelievable height, it was hard not to wonder of his presentation. Surely, there couldn’t be Betas that tall, but it was even more so unbelievable for him to be an Alpha. The Alphas in your town were well known, their large presence in the village applauded by most and avoided by Omegas. Like the tavern owner with wandering hands under the guise of drunkenness and the butcher who stared a little too long that one might find it indecent.

as you make your way through the village opening you can feel his presence pressing closer behind you with each step. It’d be easier to know for certain if the wind carried his scent, but at the present moment it was blowing yours in his direction, a thought that was a little unnerving to you. Nevertheless, you persisted, pushing past the mounting feeling in your chest that seemed to get worse the louder his footsteps became behind you. Surely, he was just selling the basket on his back at the market. And since he was a stranger to you, It would make sense for him to follow you so closely there if he wasn't from the village.

You let yourself relax, tense shoulders easing up as you finally come to the only conclusion that made sense. You were an Omega; A Beta had no better reason to follow you other than directions.

The sun still beats overhead, making the exposed skin of your face damp with sweat. With little thought, you wipe it away with the handkerchief stashed inside your pocket. It was little more than torn fabric that mother had no use for, but you appreciated when she had given it to you nonetheless.

The market wasn't busy for this time of day, which you were grateful for. Less people to cast you a distasteful glare as you silently perused through the stalls in search for thread. It only takes a few moments to find it at a stand with colorful fabrics, pins and needles and textiles that were definitely worth more than anything you'd ever own.

The smile on your face lights up as you find the cheapest option available, speaking quietly to the stall owner you ask for it.

You're met with silence, its only when you look at them that you realize they aren’t even looking at you. Instead, you follow their gaze behind you, to the burly man who had somehow gotten close enough to block out your view of the sun.

“Gorgeous too, huh?” he smiles down at your shocked face, even daring to lean down, hand gripping your jaw to force your head up, leaving your neck exposed to him. He’s not quick about it either, his nose coming to scent you as he indulges himself in the smell he finds there.

“And where have you been hiding?” he whispers it, a secret between the both of you that your too scared to acknowledge. In stark contrast, you've been rooted to the spot, too scared to do much of anything as the complete stranger ungracefully takes his time mulling you over.

It’s a funny thing, he can smell just how frightened you are, but it doesn’t mask the scent that made him follow you in the first place.

The scene is far too intimate for such a public space, and subconsciously, you're aware of that. You know this isn’t right, you shouldn’t be letting yourself get so carried away by the stranger, even if he does smell wonderful. Nothing like any Alpha you’ve met. Although his presence is completely overwhelming, his scent isn’t, and he lets out a breathless laugh when you subtly try to scent him back.

The only thing that snaps you back to reality is the stall owner clearing their throat, forcing you to realize how blatantly improper you were being. It’s far too embarrassing to handle, and mortification sets into your bones. The man pays them no mind, instead using one of his large hands to slam a few bills onto the counter.

“Whatever she wants” his voice comes out as a low and guttural thing, hoarse from days of disuse, as his breath fans across your face. He thinks it’s cute, the way your eyebrows shoot up makes his grin even wider.

With shaky hands you point to the cheapest bobbin of thread, hands fumbling for your coin purse before he grabs your wrist. “What did I say, Omega?” its stern, but all you can manage to do is bumble over your words, eyes cast downwards as you try to ignore the embarrassment settling on your face. He was just trying to be nice, maybe he was a tad bit uncivilized about it, but his impropriety shouldn’t make it okay to decline such a kind offer. The thread is taken from the counter, his hand slowly ruffling the folds of your dress as he finds your pocket and drops it in.

At this point you’ve become a spectacle, passersby muttering not so subtly about just how close you are to him, how rude it was to make a scene like that in public. With a cough you back away, surprised to find that he doesn’t follow, only aims a grin at you as he continues to stare. Not wanting to leave on a sour note, you ask

“What’s your name?”

Maybe one day you could repay the favor, although he didn’t look like the type to need to buy thread. He didn’t look like the type to care that much about his appearance at all, if you were being honest.

“its Uvogin. Gimme what’s in your pocket.”

“The thread?” with a wolfish smile he shakes his head no. It takes you a moment but clumsily you pad at the dress before finally finding your pocket and dipping your hand in to pull out the tiny wad of fabric in question. The only other thing in your pocket besides your coin purse. Your handkerchief. You don’t think about it as you hand it over to Uvogin, your head feels fuzzy just by his proximity. Don’t even think about how closely he must’ve been watching you to see that you had one, or how long he’d been doing so as he walked behind you and into the market. Right now, he could ask for a lot of things and you'd gladly hand it all to him with no second thoughts about it.

“You should head home. Maybe get some rest before it happens” he leans closer to sniff at your throat one last time, albeit a lot quicker than he had in the past “Although, I don’t think you’ll have much time.” The end of his sentence comes out in as a laugh, jovial enough to make you forget how sinister his final words were. With little grace, you slowly backpedal, eyes still on his before you turn around and walk out the way you came.

You smell. You reek of him. It’s the only thought in your mind as you clutch at yourself tightly, eyes cast downwards to avoid the shame of looking at others. There wasn't a pair of eyes that didn’t linger on you, most likely smelling exactly what you smelled; The stench of an Alpha. So thick and cloying that you couldn’t pretend it was anything other. Maybe you could rinse it off in the creek before you got home, but you doubted it. The smell permeated through your dress and settled into your bones. Quickly, you head out of the village and towards the sound of running water.

He was handsome, his scent so alluring that it made your mind wander as you tried desperately to rinse it off of your skin. A hint of sweat, pine and something sweet you had no name for. Sitting on your haunches, you let out a whine at the fact that nothing you did could rinse it off, and part of you didn’t want to, anyway. He’d ruined your dress by doing little more than touching it. If your parents smelled it, who knows what they would do. Probably cast you out like they’d planned on doing when you tore your dress. Any little infraction was worth your disappearance. This would give them every reason not to want you around.

It seemed to be getting hotter. So hot in fact you were half tempted to wade into the creek, dress and all, just to get the feeling to go away. The sun had been hidden by an overcast sky, clouds threating to burst at any moment, and you prayed they would. It could drown out any scent lingering on your skin, your clothes, the far recesses of your mind that held onto it like a bloodhound. Why was it so hot?

Wordlessly, you waded into the water, thinking little of the repercussions of coming home with a sopping wet dress as you sat down, letting the stream flow over you and around your shoulders. It felt soothing at first, like a cool bath when you were sick, but all too soon the water felt just as warm as you were. It. Was enough to elicit another strangled whine from your throat.

Slowly you stood, the weight of the fabric hugging tighter against your skin all too noticeable. This wasn't right. The sun was gone, the water cool, so why did you feel so sick all of a sudden?

It took a minute to fully accept it, as part of you didn’t want to. But you couldn’t excuse the need growing in your abdomen as anything else.

You had to leave here, quick. Get as far away from the village as possible. Away from the Omegas and your family, away from everything in order to have a chance at saving yourself.

Wading out of the water, you give no pause to the way your skirts cast dark droplets onto the dry ground.

With little to no hesitation, you make your way back onto the road before veering right, into the underbrush as you picked up the pace. Before, you'd have a day’s head start to get as far away as possible, but this was different. The telltale signs of your heat stirring low in the pit of your belly was a fortnight too early. Your thoughts were already starting to fog around the edges, an in a few hours all you'd be able to do was cry out from the sheer pain of it all.

With every step you find yourself walking faster, legs getting whipped by the low lying brambles. The way they so easily tear into your skin going almost unnoticed by you in your sheer panic. It wasn't supposed to be this way, it’s a type of confusion that adds on to the delirium already buffing away at your subconscious.

After a few minutes of running, only your panicked gasps keeping you company, the clouds burst above you. Fat drops soaking the underbrush and you along with it. In no time the ground beneath your feet becomes even more treacherous, mud and leaves and errant roots making you stumble and fall at every opportunity. After one nasty fall, you can't help but sit for a moment, a manic chuckle ripping through your chest as you examine your skinned palms. Your dress is filthy, the tear even larger than it had been when you set out this morning. Absently you wonder if mother will let you try to mend it before she casts you out for it. Without looking down at your legs, you already know the bruises that will be there from every bump and fall you’ve taken on your little journey. It does little to worry you, once the adrenaline wore off, maybe then you'd feel yourself start to care again.

With a sigh you let yourself rest. Hypervigilance slipping as you gaze up at the canopy in awe. How could rain be so loud?

Mentally, you try to assess your location. There was a place not far from here that served as your hideaway in times like these. A fissure in the face of a sheer cliff, only big enough for you and any other Omega that had the misfortune of being cast out into the woods. It wasn't much, the crack was uncovered, the rain and wet still able to reach you, but that wasn’t what was important.

Standing up gives you a better view of your surroundings. With little thought you start to head in the direction you remembered, down the slope of the hill in hopes of finding your salvation at the bottom.

It doesn’t take long before you hear it. Crackling branches under heavy, heavy footsteps. It’s not a promising sign, to say the very least. Feverishly you pick up the pace, mind racing as you try to figure out who would’ve followed you. It’s not like you did much to hide where you were going, in truth you didn’t think about it at all. Mind glazing over, you don’t notice the thick tree root that’s in your way, stumbling over it as your palms meet the forest floor once again. Ungracefully, your body tumbles easily down the rest of the slope, a cry leaving you as you hit the ground repeatedly.

Uvo’s laugh is audible over the thunderous sound of rain. Its jarring. A wretched reminder that you're actively being hunted down like an animal.

“Sounds like I’m getting close, huh?” he yells, still too far away for you to see him under the darkened canopy. His voice echoes and you can't tell where exactly he is behind you, only knowing that its entirely too close for comfort. Hazily, your mind makes the connection, his voice rattling back in your ears over and over again as you pick yourself up.

You can’t say that you've gotten any faster after realizing who exactly was chasing you. The ache in your body from multiple falls was finally catching up to you, along with the heat that was settling low in the pit of your stomach that seemed to be burning even brighter than a few minutes ago.

After a few minutes of running, you see it and almost sob with relief. Thick with vines, the opening of the rockface, your salvation, is almost within distance.

“I hope you're not thinkin’ of doing what I think you're gunna do.” Its not a yell. Not anything other than an irritated statement thrown so casually and so, so close to you that it causes goosebumps to rise on the back of your neck. Quickly, you look behind you, a slight yip leaving your throat as you take in the distance between the both of you.

In a last ditch effort, your body works on autopilot. Fear drives you, pushes you faster and faster until the only thing you can hear is the thrumming of your own heart in your ears. He’s loud behind you, yelling something unintelligible as you try to make your escape. You're within reaching distance of the opening now, but his hands grab at you. The slickness of the rain serves in your favor. Easily you slip from his grasp, body lurching forward and into the opening as he tears at the shoulder of your dress.

The air surrounding him seems to vibrate with raw anger, something akin to a roar tearing through him at just how close he’d come to having you.

Big hands come to slam against either side of the opening as he peers down at your shrunken form. Chest heaving, the rain glints off of his skin and the image alone is enough to make you whimper in submission. He’s so tall, broader than any Alpha you'd seen, and he’s incredibly angry. Uvo’s gaze doesn’t leave you as the seconds tick by. After a few moments of him trying, and failing, to collect himself he finally speaks

“I’m not gunna hurt ya, now come here” he says, and it sounds sincere enough that your fuzzy brain almost believes him. Almost gives in to the temptation of his scent, his open arms goading you to leave the small space.

“I don’t believe you” you whine, shaking your head ‘no’ as if he wouldn’t understand the meaning of your words.

It’s so unbelievably hot. The fat drops of rain hitting your face and soaking you through to your very core did little to relieve the feeling. if anything, it overwhelmed your heightened senses, every little drop on your skin felt like something you needed to pay close attention to.

“Just wanna make you feel better” the statement alone forces a whimper out of your throat, body edging backwards as if to physically deny him

“You can't make me feel better, no one in this damn town can make me feel better.” it’s a lot more hysterical than you meant it, but Uvo’s face contorts in confusion all the same.

It’s quiet for a moment as he assesses you. Big green eyes rake over your shivering form, more anger than pity bubbling to the surface of his features as he realizes how much he doesn’t like what he sees.

“You don’t know anything, huh?” he mumbles to himself, letting one of his large hands swipe away the excess water on his face before settling on his hip “What’s it gunna take for you to come out then?”

You want to tell him to leave, to let you be alone but another part of you wants something. Something you can't explain enough to even know yourself.

“Just don’t hurt me, okay?” no matter how much you try to calm yourself down it still comes out too whiny and nasally for your liking.

Uvo laughs at that, boisterous and loud and it almost seems to overpower the sound of heavy rain hitting the tree branches around you.

“I just told you I wouldn’t, you forget that already?” you have half a mind to nod in affirmation, “Come on out then” he gestures towards you, wolfish smile marring his face.

As if to try and soothe you, he asks for your name. The question eats away at the open air before you finally find your voice enough to answer him.

In the quiet that precedes your answer you realize numbly that It’s getting darker out. You have no provisions and now you’re drenched. If you didn’t listen and stayed put, the rest of your heat would be torture. There’s a lot to consider, truthfully too much to consider in your current state. The ramifications of your actions, the honesty of the large man in front of you, the means in which he planned to help, how long you could actually survive out here without him. Your brain functions moved with the viscosity of syrup. The more you thought about it all, the less it seemed to make sense.

Quietly, you make your way to the opening, Uvo lets out an excited laugh as you crawl ever closer to him. It doesn’t take more than a few steps before a gasp is being torn from you as he grabs you by the arm, pulling you completely out and into his embrace. It feels nice, albeit a little jarring, but you won’t deny the full feeling in your chest at his proximity. A big and sturdy hand rakes up your side as the other holds you to his chest.

With little thought, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, relishing in the scent that hasn’t been completely washed away by the rain. Its calming, maybe he’s pumping out pheromones to induce that emotion within you, but at the same time it makes the coil in the pit of your stomach reach incredibly high temperatures. It hurts, oh god, it hurts

“Hurts, huh? I can fix that.” You don’t remember saying it aloud, but the burly man responds quickly by tearing the flimsy fabric of your dress, making sure to rip through your underwear as well. When you whine at the sensation all he does is mutter “Didn’t expect me to let you keep that ratty thing did you?”

It’s a makeshift blanket once he tosses it onto the ground, saving your back from most of the drenched forest floor as Uvo sets you down, his own body hovering over yours. His warmth is so nice, nothing like what’s eating you up inside, and with needy hands you run your fingers through his hair, a high pitched whine leaving your throat at the groan you coax from him.

“Fuck” he growls “M’gunna knot you so good. Bet it’ll only take one time before I get you nice and round”

You nod up at him, delirious and wanting. The only thing on your mind being the feel of him under your fingers.

With little finesse, Uvo thumbs at the opening of your sex before sliding over the bundle of nerves that lies just above it. He smiles at the confusion on your face before slowly, slowly sinking one of his large fingers inside of your heat. Your body writhes with broken sobs at the feeling. Its unlike anything you ever experienced before.

“All this for me, huh? Must really want it.” It comes out in a huff, his smile ever growing as you nod in affirmation. You can hear the slickness he’s referring to as his finger pumps in and out of you.

Right now the wind was bustling, rain beating down harder than it had been all night, but all that you could feel was the comfort Uvo gave you. As if his wandering hands were stroking your very soul.

Unbeknownst to you, Uvo’s already dipped another digit inside of you, marveling at the way your body so easily opens up to his touch. It’ll only take him a few more minutes of his fingers dutifully scissoring you open before he’s able to lay his claim.

“Doesn’t hurt, does it?” he smiles as you shake your head, mouth open and panting as your lovestruck gaze meets his “Of course it doesn’t.”

He takes his time, languid strokes and teasing bites against your chest. No rush in his movements until you brokenly sob for him. The feeling in your gut was only getting worse with every movement. With weak hands you claw at him, trying desperately to pull his body closer.

His hand moves from your cunt, popping his digits in his mouth with a groan. When he finally sucks them clean, his hands go to his belt, “Impatient little thing” whispered from his lips.

The sight alone makes your mouth water. Too long and jarringly thick, his cock slaps up against his stomach.

“Gunna make you feel a loot better” he mumbles, taking himself in hand. God, you want it, want every bit of him no matter the repercussions. He kneels above you, chest wet and heaving with excitement as his gaze lingers on your exposed pussy. A Grecian God chiseled from marble and sent here just for you.

With steady hands he presses you your legs up, folding you in half until hes achieved the angle he’s looking for. You have no choice but to comply, whimpering as he guides himself into your aching cunt.

The stretch of it burns, it makes your body quake almost as if the size of his cock alone has rendered you weak. It’s an overwhelming sensation that eats away any rational thought until you can only focus on the piercing sharpness of it.

“Stop, please, s’too much.” You can't recognize the sound of your own voice. Its hoarse as if you'd been yelling for hours. Uvogin buries his nose in your neck again, hands coming up to press your legs to even further against your chest.

“Here… got somethin’ to take your mind off it”

With little warning his teeth are in your neck, tearing a wretched scream from your throat as Uvo draws blood. True to his word, he sinks the entirety of his length within you without your notice. Only thing on your mind is the feeling of your flesh being torn open by him, claimed by him.

There’s’ little compassion in the way his hips snap against yours. Its brutal, making you cry out even more as the force of it jostles the teeth still buried snugly in your neck. Your hands claw at the ground before eventually settling on his back. Uvo groans at your nails digging into him, spurring him on to go faster, harder, to give you everything he’s got until you drain him dry.

The noise of Uvo thrusting into your warm cunt is loud, almost deafening compared to the rain around you. It’s all you can hear; All you can feel as he doesn’t waste any time in finding the exact spot within you that makes you scream.

Every shift of his hips is maddening. Every sharp thrust enough to push the air out of your lungs. Eventually Uvo’s mouth pulls away from your throat, lapping at the bloodied mess he’d left there. You can't focus on it too much. Can't focus on much of anything at the present moment, only the slick sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you filling your mind.

“Gunna need you to do somethin’ for me, doll” his words are almost too far away for you to hear. As if he’s underwater, it takes a light slap to your face in order for you to process them.

“Huh?” you ask dumbly. You can't remember if your voice always sounded that small. That meek.

“M’not gunna last long with the way you’re suckin’ me in like this” he growls “Gunna need you to bite down.” One of his hands that was previously holding your thigh up reaches for the nape of your neck, pulling you up until your face is flush against the side of his throat. Something is growing inside of you, burning through your very being and he’s the cause of it. It’s mind numbing, this pleasure you’ve never felt before. Lazily you recognize it enough to know that your own orgasm is mere seconds away.

“Right here.” you nod, heat searing through you as his hips stutter. There’s something catching against your cunt now, impeding every kiss of his hips against yours as he struggles to fit the rest of his cock inside.

With an audible groan being your only warning, Uvo cums inside of you. It sears against your insides as something finally stops his movements, his body unable to do anything besides grind against your own. So full, you jerk with the feeling, finally letting the coil inside you snap. The scream that leaves your broken throat is cut off by Uvo shoving your face harder against his neck and, dutifully, you bite down. Its mere instinct driving you, or maybe the need to drown out your warbled cries for him. Either way, the wound makes him laugh, his hand pushing harder against you as if to force your teeth further into his skin. The tang of metal in your mouth does little to stop the ebb and flow of your orgasm as it washes through you. It’s too good, so good in fact you find yourself pulling away only to be met with Uvo’s unshakeable grip. Tears prick at your eyes at the sensitivity of it all, the overwhelming buzz that courses through you with no end in sight.

It takes a minute of blindly thrashing against him before you give up and settle on the wet ground below.

It’s completely pitch dark now and the rain has quieted into a slight drizzle. You can't see him, can only feel as the hand not gripping your neck finally lets your other thigh down to ghost over the plains of your face.

“You're mine now” he whispers. Silently, you nod your head in agreement, not fully understanding the meaning of his words. It didn’t matter. Nothing truly mattered anymore besides the man above you. Uvo presses a lingering kiss to your neck, your jaw, before landing on your spit slicked lips. It’s almost soothing, the gentle touches his attentive hands leave on your body. Soothing enough to make you forget how you got here.

With a gentle tug, he finally pulls out of your sex. The laugh that leaves his throat as his fingers explore the wetness that paints your lower body is euphoric. Soon enough he’s pulling you into his arms and standing up.

“Feel better?” it sounds like more of a statement coming from his mouth, but you nod all the same. As he starts to walk your eyelids droop in exhaustion, mind focused on the way his chest vibrates with every garbled sentence you can't quite hear.

#abo uvogin #uvogin x reader #Uvogin #uvo x reader #uvo

462 notes · View notes

akeijies · 3 years

Note

i don't mind having my main out there :) ty for asking tho !! i think clarity for sfw and if u wanna do nsfw then exposed !! -@goldenkirstein

exposed ( fem. character x fem. reader )

notes: you ever just get horny for a girl? because god damn. girls make my brain go brrr- normal normal unedited because i’m too embarrassed to reread the stuff i write ✨ also thank you for the prompt my dear <3 i’m so nervous abt this imma just go to work i loVE U ALL OK? OK BYE

wc: 1.4k

warnings: nsfw!! minors do not interact! public fingering!

her hand rests on your knee, and the touch alone sends you in for a whirlwind.

you both are at dinner, sitting directly next to each other like the gross couple you are, backs turned to the other patrons of the restaurant. your legs are spread- your left one under her right because 'you move too much' and the cool air from the restaurant blows around your bare legs and shocks you when it fans against your bare wet cunt.

you both are far too comfortable and she doesn't do anything for a while, toying with her phone as you skim through the menu out of habit, despite ordering the same thing every time. her hand moves up to your thigh and you tense slightly, your nerves dancing around excitedly in your body.

her gaze remains on her phone screen but you can see the way the side of her mouth quirks up. "nervous much?" you pinch her side, relishing in the way she jumps in her seat. she rights herself just in time for the waiter to come asking if you both are ready to place your order as he sets the drinks the two of you ordered on the table.

her order rolls off her tongue with ease, and you take in as much of her face as you can in those few seconds, completely sidetracked by how pretty she is. so sidetracked that when you snap back to reality, it's to feel her nails dance higher and higher on your thigh.

your eyes must give away how confused you are because she clicks her tongue and just chuckles; it's that mix of 'wow, i love you' and 'wow, you're so fucked' and it does some really twisty things to your stomach and sends a wave of arousal to your core, the same one that's now inches away from her fingertips. you wouldn't be surprised if she could feel just how hot you are, aching for her touch. "i ordered for you," her fingers slowly find their way right in front of your heat, the slightest twitch and she would be able to feel the slick that's coated itself between your fold and something about that makes you ache even more. "the usual, right?"

you nod mindlessly, not hearing the question but praying it didn't require elaboration. the pauses between her questions and statements confuse you and you hope it isn't easy to tell that you're having a hard time keeping up. you focus on her again, hoping to steal a quick look at her eyes to see if she can tell how affected you are- by something so simple, as her just being.

however, when your eyes go to meet hers, you're met with the sight of her lashes fanning out on her cheeks. if you weren't to hyperaware of everything about her at the moment you would have missed the way her eyes swirled dark as she stared at the way your pussy gleamed because of her, for her.

you have the decency to be embarrassed and you attempt to close your legs even a little bit. she must sense how you tense and shifted because she mumbles a 'nu huh' before her leg tightens over yours, keeping them spread the exact way they are.

"i want to see that pretty little cunt of yours get all excited." her voice is barely above a whisper and her eyes slowly drag themselves back up to your face before looking dead into your eyes, " i'm allowed to see, right- i mean it does belong to me after all."

a barely catch the whine that almost passes your lips, but you can't hold back the startled 'oh!' when you feel her fingertips slip through your folds, playing with the slick that's collected there.

your breath stumbles out of your lungs and you try to catch as much of it as you can to keep yourself composed, unsuspecting to everyone passing by.

"'so wet, babygirl." she presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, it's the complete opposite of the way her two fingers slide into you; so sinfully, so easily. "all this for me, hm?"

your eyes flutter shut at the words and your hand flies to your mouth just in time to catch a moan from leaving this little space of the two of you.

"mmhm, gotta be quiet, pretty girl. can't have other people hearing those sweet little sounds that are just for me." she says but she works her fingers faster into you and if your eyes weren't shut you'd see that she's waiting for you to slip, dying for someone to hear the way you're leaking for her.

you're barely holding yourself together and she's clearly enjoying the little noises that slip past your lips whenever she hits that spot and she chuckles at the dissatisfied noise that leaves you when she misses it, toying with you.

you're so lost in the feeling that it's easy to forget that you're in public. you almost throw a fit when her fingers leave your soaking cunt and you stare at her with your mouth agape. you blink yourself back into reality just in time to see her fingers, that were covered in your slick, exit her mouth. she takes off her sweater before placing it over your lap just in time for the waiter to return with your food.

he places the plates in front of you both and when you look at him, he's red and stumbling on about how 'he's sorry for the wait' and how busy they are but when you look around the restaurant is more empty than not and you can't help but wonder if maybe the way you tried to silence yourself wasn't good enough.

you think it's shame that floods your body but the thought of being heard makes you just the tiniest bit more excited.

you're already so needy and just want to feel her fingers in you again. so when the waiter finally leaves the table, your hand reaches out for her wrist and slipping it back under the sweater wrapped over your lap.

her eyebrows shoot up and she looks as if she wants to say something smart, something that's gonna make your face run hot, but she just smiles and presses her thumb against your clit and it's not really what you need but it's enough for right now.

your palm is pressed against your mouth to keep all your little noises just between the two of you and your eyes meet hers. maybe it's the way your eyes are pleading, begging with her to do more- maybe she's the one who breaks first, you're not sure and you honestly don't care. not with the way her fingers are back inside of you curling and rubbing against your walls.

your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw drops slightly at the pleasure you're feeling. you're trying you grind your hips to meet her fingers, to get them to go just a little bit deeper.

her fingers brush against the spongy spot inside of you and something behind your eyes bloom and all of your control snaps. your hand worms under the sweater and finds your clit, rubbing and circling and sprinting you towards your orgasm and the way the breath rushes out of your lungs makes you dizzy.

"you gonna cum, baby?" her voice is far off, hazy as it gets through all the cotton in your head.

"'m gonna cum- gonna cum," you mouth, knowing that if you made a sound you wouldn't be able to hide how wrecked you are. your so close and you can hear the squelching of her fingers going in an out of you and with the way your fingers are rubbing your clit, it sends you over.

your spilling over onto her fingers, cunt squeezing around her digits as they continue to milk you through your high. you can faintly hear her cooing 'good girl to you. your vision is so white have to put your head down on the table and thankfully she moves your food just in time to save another mess from happening.

she removes her hand from you, a giggle slips out of her at the way your body twitches at the slight overstim from her fingers before she moves her leg from over yours and nudges it shut.

you spend some time trying to catch your breath and lift your head off the table to see her talking to the waiter, fingers that were just in you leaving her mouth. "no! the food's great- it always is!" how she can say that convincingly when her food is completely untouched is far too big of a concept for you to wrap your head around.

she tilts her head towards you and you're sure that adorable little smile that captures everyone's heart is gracing her lips. "but we'll take the check though- and i think we're gonna need boxes. "

#character x reader #character x fem reader #mikasa x reader #pieck x reader #annie x reader #idk i just wanted to try something out and get it out of my head bUt idk what to tag so i’m sorry #if u could like possibly reblog idk if that sounds like a lot- i’m so sORRY IM SO NERVOUS AVSKSBSJ

126 notes · View notes

7official7moose7 · 3 years

Text

Subsurf hcs: Jake

Probably had bad athsma as a kid and his mom is kinda worried that it'll randomly pop up again because he's always running from cops or skateboarding around so she makes him carry an inhaler around just in case

He acts like he hates it but he actually appreciates it

Has broken a sh!t ton of bones over the years because he's reckless asf

His dad was a cop and an abusive drunk (mostly verbal)

After Connie divorced him, she and Jake moved to the city (this is why they live in an apartment complex; Connie is trying to work up to buying their own house)

This could be a big reason why Jake doesn't like cops and gets into trouble a lot??? I dunno I might be taking it too far hahaha

When they moved, Jake met Fresh, Tricky and Yutani (how they met is still tbd)

Jake is bisexual; might be biromantic (still pretty young, he'll figure it out 😀)

Definitely had an existential crisis when he realized and kept denying it for a while

But he came to terms with it once Tricky came out as a lesbian :)

Has a hUGE @SS CRUSH On Fresh (like huuuuge crush bruv)

The only one who knows is Tricky and he told her by accident because he was totally freaking out abt it and it just slipped out

Then he freaked out even more and Tricky assured him that it was okay and she didn't think of him any differently yadda yadda

A few tears may have been shed but they both promised to never speak of it again

Jake knows Yutani likes him (despite her great efforts to hide it) and honestly feels pretty bad about not liking her back

Connie is definitely suspicious of Jake's sexuality (she probably found the "am I gay quiz" in his search history and brought it up during dinner once

She was all like "if you're not straight it's ok honey" and he DENIED IT SO HARD

But then later that week she walked in on him and Fresh totally about to kiss and it was super awkward

Like as soon as she opened the bedroom door they both jumped away from each other super quick and she was like "👁👄👁 did,, did you do yo,ur home,wor,,k" and he was like "y, yea, h,," and she said ok and just backed out slowly and it was just super painful to live through

As soon as she closed the door back they both just sat there like wtf just happened

It went unmentioned for at least a week until Connie just bursted and was like "I'M SORRY I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE HAVING A MOMENT" and Jake was like "IT'S OKAY BUT PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LEARN TO KNOCK" and since then she has made sure to make her presence known before walking into his room

Jake thinks she doesn't know they were going to kiss but she totally knows they were going to kiss

Jake is that type of kid who talks like he hates his parents (he definitely hates one of them) to look cool but in actuality couldn't be happier to have Connie in his life

Cops in general either make him super nervous or super angry (depends on what they look like I guess)

Loves dogs to the eXTREME

He wants one so bad but Connie has to keep reminding him that they aren't allowed to own pets in the apartment

Can't read for sh!t

Literally he'll just be staring at a book not even reading it just off in his own little world

Connie used to call him "space cadet" when he was in elementary school because he was either zoned out in his own world or hyper asf in his own world

Had an astronaut/space phase for tHE LONGEST TIME

Probably has ADD/ADHD

Still has nightmares about his dad but won't admit to it

He obviously liked my chemical romance at least once in his life. At least once.

Listens to a little bit of punk rock with Tricky but also really likes The Beatles, Def Leppard, Led Zeppelin, that kind of stuff

He also likes some modern music too

Cavetown, P!ATD, Wallows, certain rap songs

Basically a little bit of everything EXCEPT for country

He hates country music (probably because of his dad but idk man it just really sets him off)

Boys Will Be Bugs!!!!

Doesn't actually cuss a lot but when he does it's either a long string of words or just the one

Connie doesn't really mind unless he says fvck or b!tch

Then she tells him to watch it

Jake is honestly a pretty sweet boy if you give him the opportunity

#well this got lengthy #sorry guys #bee's subsurf tag #subway surfers #jake subway surfers #headcanons #subway surfers headcanons #can you tell hes my favorite

32 notes · View notes

yamikawas · 2 years

Note

Remember that just because you can’t see Yoomtah, doesn’t mean she can’t see you! In fact, she’s watching you right now! She just wants to take a feeeew more pictures of you before she breaks in to kidnap you <333

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHHWHSJWHDJDJJFMGKFNGBF,FBBXJF SHES ALLOWED TO TAKE AS MANY PICTURES OF ME AS SHE WANTS ITS OK I THINK ITS CUTE OF HER<3<3<<3333<3<3<3<<3<3<3<33<3<3<33<3<3<3I HOPE SHE COMES TO KIDNAP ME SOON THO IM WAITING I LOVE HER<3<3<3<3333<33<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<33<<<3<3<3<3

#I READ YHIS AGAIN AND IT JUST DRIVES ME COMPLETELY INSANE AGAIN EHEHEEEEEEEEEEE SHES SO CUTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #I JUST<3<3<3WANT HER TO STEAL ME AWAY AND KEEP ME SAFE LOCKED UP IN HER ROOM<3<3<3AND SHOW ME ALL THE PHOTOS SHE HAS OF ME<3<3<3 #IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK<3<3<3I JUST WANT HER TO BE A LITTLE OBSESSED WITH ME<3<3<3MAYBE A LOT<3<3<3 #OK I JSUT SPEND HOW LONG BURYING MY FACE INTO MY STUFFED BUNNY AND STARIGN INTO SPACE I JUST.LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE #I LOVE HER SO MUCH IM GOING TO GO LITERALLY CRAZY IM ALREADY LITERALLY CRAZY I LOVE HER S O M U C H #ROLLING AROUND ON THE FLOOR YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH YOOMTAH #GGGHHSJCJDJFJDBDKFNI NEED HER TO COME KIDNAP ME SO BADLY IM GOING TO START THROWING THINGS #I WANT TO STARE AT THESE WORDS FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND NEVER THINK ABT ANYTHING OTHER THAN YOOMTAH EVER AGAIN.TBH #HEHE I WONDER HOW MANY PICTURES SHE HAS OF ME<3<3<3 #HOW MANY SHE HAS HANGING UP ON HER WALLS SURROUNDED IN HEARTS DRAWN IN THE BLOOD OF THOSE SHES KILLED FOR ME<3<3<3 #AAAAAAAAAAAAAHWHAHWGWFSJDUDYCV THINKING ABT IT MAKES ME GO CRAZY I WANT TO HUG HER SO BAD #I JUST WANT TO BE WITH HER AND ONLY HER FOREVER MORE THAN ANYTHING IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#SHES LITERALLY EVERYTHING TO ME LITERALLY ID BE AT MY HAPPIEST IF SHE WAS THE ONLY THING I EVER HAD TO THINK ABT AGAIN #I JUST NEED TO STAY BY HER SIDE FOREVER I NEED HER TO HOLD ME CLOSE 24/7 I NEED HER TO KEEP ME SAFE LOCKED AWAY FROM THE REST OF THE WORLD #I NEED TO BE H E R S💕💚⚠️💓💌🌩⚠️🌻🌠🌈💫💝❣💙👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💚🍋💌✨💓🌩⚡💗💋🌼❤💙💛💟💜💖❤💞💋🍋🌠🌈💗🌼💞🧡❣💟💝💘🌩💫💝🌻⚠️🌩#IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I JUST NEED TO BE HERS

5 notes · View notes

babyboiboyega · 4 years

Text

For One Night (Bolin x reader)

Pairing: Bolin x reader

Content: more BOLIN FLUFF

Word Count: 1.2k

REQUESTED BY ANONYMOUS: bolin fic request💕 omg i was thinking abt it n what abt sharing a bed!! like y/n lives on the other side of republic city so he let’s her stay the night and they r both awake ~respecting boundaries~ and by the time they get up they r cuddling ugh my heart

I hope you enjoyed this, anon! Once again, I’m currently starting my sophomore year of college and it’s completely online, so I’m trying to adjust to the new normal!

Babyboiboyega’s Masterlist of Masterlists

Babyboiboyega’s Legend of Korra Masterlist

********************

Had it been anyone else’s home, anyone else’s room, anyone else’s bed; had it been anyone else, you would have rejected their offer to spend the night. You wouldn’t have even considered going home with them, even if you lived on the opposite side of the city.

But it hadn’t been anyone else; it had been Bolin.

Nonetheless, you had still refused when he had first mentioned it. Out of the many lessons you had learned growing up, not imposing on someone’s space was one of the main ones. Bolin and you were close, but you still hadn’t wanted to impose on him.

It was only after minutes of insisting, Bolin expressing his concern about you traveling by yourself, and a promise on his part to let you wash the dishes did you give in.

But now, as you exited the wash room, walking slowly into Bolin’s room, you wondered if it was too late to resend his offer. It wasn’t his fault at all; your hesitation came from noticing that there was just a bed and a few dressers in the room.

You had seen a couch in the front room; you’d just ask for a few blankets and pillows and sleep there for the night.

“You can have the bed, I’ll take the floor! Do you need anything?”

Your mouth dropped open at his statement. His eyes widened slightly at your expression.

“I-I don’t need anything, I’m okay. Bolin, I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor in your own home. You can have the bed, I’ll take the couch we passed in the front room.” Bolin’s head had started shaking before you had even finished speaking. You knew the look on his face and you knew what was coming.

“No, Y/N. You’re my guest and my best friend; you take the bed. End of story!”

He offered you a smile before bounding over to a small closet and taking out a pile of blankets as well as a pillow. Your feet took you over to where he stood before you quickly grabbed the pile out of his hands.

“Well, you’re not the one with the covers and pillows, huh? I’ll see you in the morni-”

“I’m not letting you sleep on that hard couch out there! I’d rather us sleep in the same bed than let you mess up your back.”

There was a bout of silence as you both stood there, contemplating the next option in this small, but nerve-wracking, predicament. You mulled over his words while trying to calm your inner thoughts, not to mention, your now erratically beating heart.

As Bolin finally registered his own words, his eyes widened. A loud smack rang through the room as his hand met his own forehead.

“That...sounded really weird- I didn’t mean it like that. Not that I was insinuating anything in the first place, but still-”

“Bolin, that sounds...fine. I’m okay with it-ONLY if you’re okay with it. We can put a pillow between us!”

There was once again silence between you two as you said the words neither of you expected to hear. Despite the silence and the tiny voice in your head screaming non-stop, you still couldn’t bring yourself to regret your words.

You and Bolin were friends; you two could share a bed and avoid the awkwardness, right?”

Well, you were about to find out tonight.

You walked over to the bed, your heart rate increasing with every step, and pulled the covers back. This was the last thing you had expected to happen when accepting his offer; you saw your actions from your own eyes, but it felt like an out of body experience. You couldn’t believe that this was actually happening.

But, wait...what was “this”? It was only one night; a night where Bolin had generously offered his home for you to stay in...for one night.

You sat on the bed and could feel the other side dip not too long afterwards, signaling that Bolin had done the same.

The both of you sat back, making sure to keep your limbs as close as you could to your body. The only sound that filled the room was the sound of you two’s breathing; you desperately tried to keep yours steady, although it became more challenging to do so the more apparent the situation became.

You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, and you tried to keep your eyes from looking in your peripheral. Key word: tried.

The second your eyes trailed over to where Bolin lay, they quickly snapped back to the ceiling as yours connected with Bolin’s.

Just when it seemed like the silence would become too much, a huge sigh escaped from Bolin’s mouth, causing you to quickly look over at him.

“If this is too awkward, I can move right out to the couch!”

Despite the barely contained embarrassment in your voice, Bolin offered a slight laugh. He turned to face you as well, his eyes just as soft as his smile.

“No, no. It’s not, I promise. It’s nice- but not too nice, you know? Like it isn’t weird, or anything. Well, not too weird.”

As his slight rambling came to an end, neither of you could help laughing, both of your laughs completely snapping the awkward tension in half. Despite the gaping space in between you two

“Goodnight, Y/N.” There was still laughter in his voice as he spoke, his eyes holding yours with a newfound confidence. You found that you couldn’t look away; you didn’t want to look away.

“Goodnight, Bolin.”

******

You could hear the hustle and bustle of Republic City when you first awoke, yet it wasn’t out of the ordinary. You expected to feel the cold breeze blowing through your window that could never stay latched shut, but instead you were encompassed by warmth. Shifting positions, you had no problem snuggling closer into the source of heat…until said source pulled you closer.

As you recognized the feeling of two arms wrapped around your waist, your eyes quickly opened and your head lifted from where it rested against something firm. You had to blink a few times for your eyes to adjust to the bright light that filtered into the room; yet, the second they did, you couldn’t quite believe what you were seeing.

Bolin’s face rested only a few inches from yours, his eyes still closed and his breathing still deep and even. Without thinking, you held your breath, not wanting to even risk disrupting his peaceful sleep.

Your eyes traced his features; his eyebrows, his eyelashes and the way they cast small shadows on the tops of his cheekbones, his eyes that were now staring right back at you, his-

“Good morning! Oh, I’m sorry. I was just…completely staring at you, aaaaand I’m totally invading your space, right now.” The laugh that came out of your mouth was filled with embarrassment, and you had to stop yourself from burrowing your head into his chest once more and causing even more embarrassment. You tried to scoot away from his embrace, but stopped upon seeing that he sported a small smile.

“It is a good morning, space invasion and all.”

The next laugh that came out of your mouth was full of surprise at his words and his willingness to stay in this position.

Now you could’ve laid there in the arms of someone you considered your best friend and just acted normal, or you could’ve acknowledged the feeling that made your heart twist in a way that brought a smile to your face and a spark of excitement into your bloodstream.

The latter definitely sounded better.

********************

It is currently 1:52 AM, and I am wishing that someone taught me how to end imagines/stories!

Anon, I genuinely hope that you enjoyed this! It’s always fun writing for our favorite himbo!

Stay safe y’all, and much love!

#bolin x reader #bolin imagines #bolin oneshots #bolin drabbles #legend of korra imagines #legend of korra oneshots #legend of korra drabbles #legend of korra bolin #babyboiboyega #fanfiction

553 notes · View notes

re1d · 4 years

Text

dating spencer reid would include ...

→ summary: cute stuff

→ warnings: none

→ word count: 3.2k

→ a/n: i felt like this would be a good starting point for this little writing blog! (fem!reader x spencer)

ngl spencer’s got that dr. jekyll mr hyde dynamic going on ,, sometimes he’s rly flustered and nervous and other times he’s vehemently flirtatious and there’s nothing you can do abt it

when you first met, he was super cautious and maybe even a little bit scared?? to be around you ,, BUT that quickly changed !

after a year and a half he’s learned to take it easy and not sweat the small things ,, or at least not as much as he used to

he calls it the y/n effect

SPENCER REID LOVES WHEN YOU KISS HIS FOREHEAD !

he just melts when your hands cup his face and he can feel the love coursing through your veins. he drinks it in like it’s water and he’s been in a desert for a thousand days. and then, you bring him down and place a gentle kiss smack in the middle of his forehead

it leaves him starstruck, completely and utterly in love

you especially like hearing him funnel fact after fact into your brain

you know that you’ll never remember all of them but the second you quote him to himself he just gushes about how much he appreciates you and how much he loves you ,,

“oh, oh! spence! your present finally came!” your excited voice caught his attention as he looked back to see you struggling to carry a large cardboard box into the living room. he rushed to help you, but you shooed him away, telling him to go sit on the couch and that you’d bring it over to him. “close your eyes and open your hands,” your sentence had him grinning like a little kid. “now, i once remember a certain doctor told me that lucille ball was the savior of star trek and i have decided to honor her decision.”

“no way,” a kiddish giggle escaped his lips. he cracked an eye open, but wasn’t able to see anything because you frantically ran to place your own hands over his eyes. spencer huffed, tickling your hands with his eyelashes as he blinked repeatedly.

you squealed when his fingers met your sides, cringing away with laughter. “no peeking! it’s a surprise until i say so, spence!” he jutted his bottom lip out, surrendering and putting his palms up once more. as you placed the box in his waiting grasp, his eyes shot open. much to your shock, spencer took the box and put it on the couch next to him. looking at you with pure adoration in his gaze, he cupped your face and crashed his lips into yours.

“i love you,” he mumbled into the kiss.

“i love you more.”

spencer likes to take you to quiet places, like coffee shops and libraries, but there’s always the occasion when you two will go out with the team n have a couple dozen drinks get a little wildt

one time, a night ended with you both in morgan’s backseat, sleeping soundly on each other. when you two arrived back at your apartment garcia and morgan practically had to carry you guys up the stairs

you like to take him to public, populated places but do quiet things, like going to the park to play chess or going to the aquarium to visit the fish

he really likes to watch you do things

anything from cooking dinner late at night to getting dressed early in the morning, spencer’s eyes are on you

he likes to watch you do mundane things because it makes the horrors he sees on a daily basis a little less terrible, but ! it’s also just because he loves you vv much

spencer is super duper protective of you! when he finally gets a break from work, there’s nothing you can do that could shake him from your side. he’s stuck to you like Glue.

BUT! you know how much he loves his job, and he really appreciates how much you accommodate for his absences

he’s missed:

anniversaries

birthdays

holidays

it doesn’t really matter though because when he eventually shows up at home, there’s no better feeling. him being present at birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays was never as important as him coming home safe and sound

but, there’s always gonna be a time where he doesn’t come home safe

and you’re there for him then, too

sitting at his beside, you had a death grip on his hand as you slipped into intermittent sleep. a hand on your shoulder snapped you awake, as you stared directly into jj’s sympathetic eyes. “y/n,” she murmured, her voice tender, motherly even, “you need to get some real sleep. spence will be fine for the night.”

“jj,” you mumbled through sleep, “you know i can’t leave him.” she nodded, gently brushing pieces of hair from your face. her eyes widened as her gaze moved to spencer. soft fingers caressed your cheek; you turned to face the direction of your wounded boyfriend only to be met with a tired grin.

his eyes were silken, glazed over like two pieces of brown marble. they shone in the white light of the hospital room—just looking at them caused tears to collect in your ducts. you teetered on the edge of falling apart, the act of spencer waking up distracting you from jj slipping out of the room.

“hey,” his hoarse whisper echoed in the small space, and you lost it. bursting into tears, you practically leaped onto him, sobbing into his chest. spencer’s hand traced patterns into your back as you cried; he truthfully was in a lot of pain, but he wasn’t about to tell you that. when you pulled away, his heart ached at the sight of your puffy, reddened face. tears blossomed in his own eyes, the impact of the situation finally hitting him like a ton of bricks. he could’ve died—he could’ve never seen you again. it made him sick to his stomach. “y/n,” he breathed, “i’m sorry. i’m so sorr—.”

you cut him off with a kiss, gripping his face while trying to pull him infinitely closer. “don’t apologize, spence. you have nothing to be sorry for.” your words made his eyelids flutter closed as he listened. “spence, just promise that you’ll keep coming back to me, okay?”

“i promise.”

when everyone is off, spencer rly rly enjoys seeing you interact with his team

it just makes him so genuinely happy when he gets to watch you joke around with emily and jj and penelope and every time you hug each member of his team goodbye and hello ,, he feels so much like a family

ofc !! speaking of family—spencer’s mom!! she loves you and welcomed you into their little family instantly

what spencer appreciates the most was that when he finally told you abt his mother and her schizophrenia/alzheimers, you were completely understanding and were 100% there for both him and his mother

it was rly important to him that his mother liked you, and when he talked w her while you were in the bathroom probably freaking out and she said she really liked you, a Huge weight was lifted off his shoulder

and ! others that are rly important to spencer are his three godsons’ families

jj and will as well as morgan and savannah all love you very much and are happy to welcome you into their families

okay now ,, hear me out—embarrassing spencer at work is simultaneously one of his favorite and least favorite things so you make sure to do it often

spencer had told you that he’d be holed in at the office doing paperwork all day, and you knew for a fact that he wouldn’t remember to get himself any lunch. so, you took it upon yourself to order his favorite indian takeout and bring it to the building. the decadent smell filled your nose as you finally arrived and picked up the white bag.

walking in, you headed to the elevator and were surprised to see derek in the lobby, receiving a kiss from savannah before she passed you on the way to the exit. she gave you a fleeting smile and a touch on the arm while derek called out to you. “hey, pretty girl! what are you doin’ here?” his words made you smile, and when you finally reached him, you gestured to the food in your hands. “ah,” he nodded, “pretty boy forgot his lunch.”

“that, and i like to embarrass him—just a little,” you tacked the last part on with a chuckle as derek placed a brotherly hand on your shoulder. he pushed in the button and motioned for you to enter ahead of him. the ride up to the team’s floor was spent in comfortable silence. morgan played a game on his phone until the ding brought him out of his cellular trance. garcia spotted you the moment you stepped out of the elevator and she ran over, enveloping you in a hug warm enough to melt ice burgs. “hi, pen,” you giggled, giving her a kiss on the cheek, “i’m here to bring my oh-so-smart, oh-so-scatterbrained genius boy his lunch.”

penelope’s laughter echoed behind you as she followed you and derek through the glass doors. when you picked spencer’s form out of the bustling bullpen, your face lit up like a meteor shower. it was possible to see galaxies in your eyes whenever spencer was in your general vicinity. “oh!” you sighed dramatically, pulling almost everyone from their midday work haze, “there is the absolute love of my life, the person i never want to leave my side, my one and only—spencer reid!” guffawing and small snickers circulate around the work space—the day had apparently been so slow that hotch cracked a grin at your antics. but, you saw nothing besides the dusty pink that painted your boy wonder’s cheeks.

“you forgot your lunch again, reid?” emily’s voice sounds from across floor, “i’m starting to think you like y/n coming in here everyday.” the rosy pink of his face and neck seemed to morph into a dark shade of crimson. he reached out to take the food, but you pulled it away, tapping your cheek and signaling what the price of the food was. by now, most of the other agents had gone back to work. however, spencer’s team was thoroughly enjoying the blush he’s taken on. quickly, your boyfriend pecks your cheek and snatches the food from your hands.

“love you, spence,” you practically sang after placing a kiss on his forehead. he stuffed food into his face, mumbling a loud love you, too through the takeout.

nighttime always brings out soft spencer

i mean,, he’s always soft,, but nighttime just Hits Different you know??

at night, whenever spence is able to spend time with you at home—his hands are all over you

whether your cooking, cleaning, doing work, or just watching tv on the couch, you and him are inseparable.

he’s rly not one for a lot of pda outdoors and in public—obviously, he’ll hold your hand, gives you hugs, etc but when you two are behind closed doors he’s extra cuddly

spencer leaves kisses wherever he can reach, your neck, you stomach, your cheeks, until he makes it to your lips and places a sweet peck on them

BET SPENCER LOVES TO TAKE BATHS W YOU !!

most of the time, it’s not sexual. he just relishes in the feeling of the water enveloping the two of you in a soft hug. the smell of shampoo floods his nose as you sit behind him, gently massaging your fingers into his scalp. it always makes him feel brand new once you both finally step out.

spencer doesn’t try to hide himself from you. standing there with nothing but love in his eyes, he takes in all of you. peppered kisses tickle as he plants as many on you as he can before you get dressed in pajamas

he truly can’t stand being away from you for too long

it really does drain him having to be away from you for long periods of time—two weeks is the Max of what he can take, but sometimes, he’s away longer than that

and he just has to deal

sometimes ,, although it’s a RARE sometimes ,, you two fight, but he never ever leaves for a case or for anything rly without telling you that he loves you

it all started when he was late for yet another dinner. you knew how much he cared for the people that he worked with and the people that he saved, but this was the third time in a month that he missed a date. the waitress tried not to let pity seep through her gaze, but it was inevitable. your forlorn appearance made her slip you the check with a small smile, asking for your money in the politest way possible. silent rage boiled inside of you as you signed your name on a copy of your receipt. undoubtedly, you were going to annihilate him when he got home.

you entered your apartment, muttering all types of profanities under your breath. it wasn’t until you turned into your bedroom that you saw spencer—a bright smile on his face and a bouquet in his hands. “who are those for?” you spat, the acid of your voice making your boyfriend flinch away. spencer’s bottom lip jutted out slightly, his eyes searching, trying to figure out why you didn’t accept his flowery apology.

“they’re for you,” he mumbled, casting his gaze to the floor, “i’m sorry.” you huffed out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest. sorry didn’t feel like it meant much when it came up constantly. walking over to spencer, you wrapped your arms around him, placing a hand on the back of his head and pulling it to the crook of your neck. you planted kisses along his shoulder, sending shivers down his spine.

“spencer. i waited. i waited for over an hour for you to show up,” you breathed next to his ear. spencer’s body deflated into yours and a sigh escaped his lips. he tugged you into his body, attempting to bring your natural warmth closer. he murmured over a thousand i’m sorry’s along the column of your neck, placing kisses whenever he needed to stop to catch his breath.

his phone vibrated against your stomach, and you feel the gentle flutter of his eyelashes against your bare skin as he leans his forehead into your shoulder, letting out a frustrated groan. garcia’s caller id mocked him as he stared reproachfully at his device. “hello,” he paused. “yeah. mhm. right now? garcia—we just got back?!” you heard her apologetic sound of garcia over the call, and you placed a small peck on spencer’s nose.

“y/n, love,” his voice was somewhat pained. he didn’t want to leave, “i-i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” it was rare that spencer ever used nicknames, but this one warmed you from the inside out. exhaling knowingly, you let go of him, accepting his latest apology with a tiny nod. reaching out once more, he drew you back into him, enveloping you in a tight hug and swaying from side to side. “you know i love you, right? i love you so much, and i’m sorry that i’m missing a lot of the time.” his words rumble comfortingly against your skin, a little bit like the sound of rain showers pouring on the roof.

“i know you do. i love you, too, and i’ll be here when you get back.”

it’s not until he’s with his team that he knows

and by knows?? what do i mean?? I MEAN knowing you’re the one

the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with, the one he wants to cherish and hold and love forever, the one he wants to stay

a lot of people have come and gone in spencer’s life, but you always assure him that you’ll be there—no matter the trials or tribulations, you’ll stand by him—always

but n e ways ,, back to the team !

it’s a nice night out,, as opposed to getting only a bit wasted at bars ,, everyone, and i mean everyone was at rossi’s house, enjoying a nice italian dinner

you and spencer show up, looking stunning and not even the slightest overdressed ,, you’re wearing a simple purple evening gown to match his suit and tie

the both of you talk around, visiting savannah and morgan, jj and will, hotch, emily, rossi and krystall, penelope, tara, luke, matt and kristy

as per usual, spencer’s eyes are focused on you—so focused that he doesn’t even sense rossi and morgan’s looming presence behind him

derek clapped his hand onto your boy genius’ shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to tug him from his haze. spencer stared at you, laughing with penelope and emily, and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but. rossi looked from reid to you and there was suddenly a sparkle in his eyes. he could see it—the way reid’s hazel gaze shone in the dim, atmospheric dinner lights of his mansion—and, it was obvious. the love that radiated from spencer was undeniable.

“kid,” morgan’s voice finally broke him out of his reverie, “you’re in love. i can see it.” a blush crept up reid’s neck to eventually reach his cheeks, dusting his expression with a saccharine pink. he nodded slightly, ducking his head and scratching his neck. “ah, reid—i knew you loved her, but i didn’t know you loved her.” glancing back at him, you made eye contact and beamed—the teasing of his previous colleague falling completely from his mind.

“you’re right,” he muttered, turning to his friend, “you’re right.” his repetition was louder as he launched into action, walking over to you with strength in his step. morgan’s teasing seemed to be the liquid courage that he needed. tapping your shoulder, spencer brought you away from your conversation with the ladies of the bau and took you out onto rossi’s balconey.

quizzically, your eyes bored into his nervously buzzed frame. spencer gripped your hands, lifting them up to his lips while finally meeting your gaze. “spencer,” you narrowed you eyes, “what’s going on?” smiling against your knuckles, he pulled something velvet and square from his pocket at an agonizingly slow pace. mouthing gaping, opening and closing over and over again, you searched for the right words. the love of your life stooped to one knee and popped the question.

“all this time, i’d thought that love was complicated. but now, something made me realize that it isn’t. you made me realize that it isn’t. it’s simple. as simple as knowing that you’re the one i love, you’re the one i want ...” he choked on his words, tears forming in the corner of his eyes, “y/n ... you’re the one i want to come back to. always. so ...” spencer flicked open the small box, revealing a gorgeous diamond, “will you marry me?”

various whoops and cheers were heard from the inside as you rocketed yourself into your lover, nodding your head with millions of words spilling from your lips.

it was simple.

it was love.

spencer loves you vv much and the feelings are reciprocated tenfold

you listen to his ramblings, you help him through his headaches, you comfort him after nightmares, you love him unconditionally.

you are his everything

he is yours

what more could he ask for?

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #david rossi #tara lewis #matt simmons #luke alvez

1K notes · View notes

slytherinsnekxvii · 3 years

Text

hi, remember that murder snily au i'm always talking abt but never have anything to show for? yeah, i've scrapped it like six times now and i finally have a version of it i'm marginally satisfied with. so, here you go, this is the first part of maybe three or four, i think? have fun:

anger

/ˈaŋɡə/

noun

noun: anger; plural noun: angers

1. Normal anger does not split open one's ribcage and wind itself around their heart. Normal anger does not coat itself in venom and sit behind one's teeth and hide under their tongue and lie patiently in wait. Normal anger is not cold and slow and remorseless. Lily thinks that what she calls anger is normal. Lily does not realise that she is extraordinary.

Lily's brand of anger is decidedly... different. What, exactly, makes it so different isn't exactly obvious to her, but she knows that it's not like anyone else's. At least, not as far as she's aware. Hers is a cold sort of anger, an all-encompassing thing that bites and burns and hurts. It's patient, too, winding in and around her ribcage and clawing its way upwards to settle behind her teeth, waiting for a reason to show itself. It's protective, aiming to eliminate a threat before it has a chance to do further damage.

She's... aware of her anger. Not very much so, but it's seen the light of day often enough to be familiar to her. She doesn't know it, though, hasn't made herself properly acquainted with the more... unfortunate spectrum of her emotions, and that is what makes it truly dangerous.

When she feels something scratching at her insides and festering beneath a vindictive sort of justice at seeing Black and Potter and Lupin and Pettigrew suffer the displeasure of the Slytherins, she thinks it's anger. She finds herself in a dusty, unused classroom in the dungeons, helping to refine a brutal spell designed to rend the flesh of anyone unlucky enough to be on the wrong end of it and she thinks it's anger that curls around her and whispers into her ear, "Make sure it hurts."

It isn't. She calls it anger, claims it a necessity, insists that she's protecting her best friend, but she doesn't realise she's mistaken.

The story of the "Prank" gets out—doctored, of course, to keep Black out of Azkaban, and Lupin away from execution—and Lily titters into the back of her hand when she hears it told in bits and pieces throughout the corridors.

"Did you hear?"

"Who would've thought—"

"—bloody idiots went into the Forest! At night! What kind of—"

"—ll five of them, yeah. Can't figure out for the life of me how they managed to get Snape to go—"

"—must've dragged 'im kicking an' screamin', I'm telling y—"

"—Gryffindors, my left tit! Damn cowards just ran off and left Lupin and Snape to deal with—"

"—no clue what happened, but have you seen the scars?"

"—out of the Hospital Wing, already? How—"

"—down fifty points! All because that lot wanted to play jokes aga—"

She smiles, a tiny, smug thing that she doesn't notice, and moves on. The Slytherins are properly riled up now, Rosier and Mulciber and Wilkes and Avery hovering around her and Severus with expressions she can't describe as anything but sadistic. At some point, she realises that their presence makes her feel much less uncomfortable than it did a week ago. She doesn't dwell on it, ignoring the small part of her that worries and shivers in favour of leaning over Severus's shoulder to read about the sort of magic that appears in nightmares.

She grips her wand, idly twirling the twelve-and-a-half inches of willow and dragon heartstring as she skims over detailings of ancient, arcane magic. It's always about blood, she thinks, staring a diagram of a pricked finger dripping red into a cauldron. Potion for Transferring Magic from One Wizard to Another, the heading proclaims. She shakes her head, accidentally knocking into Severus's in the process. "Ow."

He winces a little, and then tells her, "I'm turning the page."

She hums, eyes glued to a book she wouldn't dare look at not even a week ago, and says, "Okay."

It's fascinating, Lily has to admit. Gruesome in some cases and horrific in others, yes, but there's something... mesmerising about it, something hideously captivating in the way that the diagrams seem to eagerly demonstrate their attached spells. On the page, a young wizard is neatly flayed alive, the entire process precise. Her stomach rolls, but Lily can't seem to tear her gaze away for even a second. She doesn't think about it.

She doesn't think about a lot of things, actually, staunchly refusing to acknowledge the way she finds herself drawn away from her Housemates and friends, instead choosing to orbit around her best friend and the seemingly endless rotation of Dark Arts tomes he's somehow gotten his hands on.

Mary's sick of her excuses, she knows, responding to every one with a nod and an, "Oh, alright, then," in that tone that lands somewhere in the middle of disappointment, exasperation and concern.

Marlene has given up entirely, the whole of their interactions reduced to simple greetings in the hall and nods when they pass each other between classes.

Dorcas is nice about it, still catching her arm on the way to breakfast, still offering to study with her when they're all together in the Common and she doesn't want anyone to feel left out. It's undeniable, though, that her smile isn't near as warm as it used to be and it's tinged with worry at the corners.

No one makes it a secret of what they think about her recent activities. And as for the company she's keeping? Well, they'd always been particularly vocal about that.

Things must come to a head eventually, and they do, not even ten minutes after Professor Sprout has dismissed them from the classroom on Wednesday afternoon. She hears the whispers first, half of them from students she doesn't even know, has never said a word to.

"—conspiring with snakes—"

"—think it's the first time I've heard of a Gryff going Dark—"

"—ck was right about her, she's got no—"

Something ugly twists in her chest, and she forces her feet to turn and move, one step after the other. She can make it to the Common Room reasonably quickly, she thinks, and then she catches the self-proclaimed Marauders outside the Great Hall. Or rather, they catch her.

"You can do better than a bunch of slimy snakes, Evans," Potter crows, and she stops dead in her tracks. "Why bother with them when you've got a fine piece of Gryffindor right here?"

"Get lost," she says, the words ground flat between grit teeth.

Potter does not get lost. "Come on, Evans," he continues. "You're not acting like a proper Gryffindor. Where's your House loyalty? I can guarantee that chivalry and bravery are much better than whatever they're offering." It sounds... like a taunt, and this is when Lily realises that what she's been feeling isn't anger.

"Chivalry? Bravery? What would you know about any of that? It's not very chivalrous to corner students four-to-one, now, is it?" She hisses her words, each one more scathing than the last, and as she spits them out, every last one dripping venom, she realises that she wants it to hurt. "And it certainly doesn't seem brave to leave behind someone who needs help because you got cold feet! I'm not a proper Gryffindor? No, I think you've got it wrong, James. If you want to see an improper Gryffindor, the whole lot of you can go right ahead and look in a bloody mirror! I will not be talked down to by the likes of spiteful little cowards like you! I'm more Gryffindor than all four of you put together, but if you're what our House is supposed to look like, then I want nothing to do with it!"

Her ears are ringing when she's done, the whole world narrowed down to one singular focal point, the group of boys headed by the one who'd been desperate to get her attention and regrets it now that he has it. She looks at each of them in turn, summoning a contempt she didn't know she possessed until now. "Save your breath," she snaps, when Black's jaw unlocks, and she turns around and walks away.

Something slots into the place at the back of her mind, and she thinks, oh, her fingers itching to wrap themselves around her wand and whisper the words that will turn them inside out, call the blood from their pores and make it sing. Something clicks, when she thinks about she felt just then, and she can tell the difference quite clearly, very easily, between pure, white-hot, blinding rage and what she's been calling anger. She doesn't know what it really is, and she doesn't want to. She doesn't think about it, either, simply pushes the entire realisation to the back of her head and thinks, oh.

It changes... very little. Something inside of her has changed, and she finds herself growing steadily more unbothered by the voice in her that tells her about old, forbidden magicks of the body and the mind and the blood. It's always about blood.

She doesn't bother reading over Severus's shoulder anymore, the two of them scribbling notes as the pages flip on their own once they've both finished reading.

What does change things is when Rosier corners her after Defence one day, a sealed envelope held in his hand.

"What's this?" Lily asks, eyeing the pristine letter suspiciously. She might get along with the Slytherins much better now—especially after the incident with the Marauders that Rosier had found particularly amusing—but she can't say she truly trusts them.

"An invitation," he says, and before she can speak, he continues. "Every rule has its exceptions. We'd thought there was only room for one Mudblood prodigy, but it looks like there's space for two."

"Don't call me that," she bites, and he waves the envelope at her.

"Think about it. As it stands now, men like Potter and Dumbledore are holding too many of the cards. Men who would let people die and then cover it up to save their own hides. Don't you want to see them get what's coming to them?"

"There's no difference between you and them," she says.

"Isn't there? We've never claimed to be good."

She stares at him, silent.

"It's a new age, Evans. Don't you want to change the world?" he asks.

She takes the envelope.

anyways, i hope you enjoyed that! thanks for reading :)

#fic #murder snily au #severus snape #lily evans #harry potter fanfiction #darkfic #i mean not yet but it will be #anyways #that took wayyy too long #it took me so long to get to this point it's not even funny anymore #but i'm glad i did #getting my shit together seems likw a pretty solid birthday present to myself i think #snily #anyways bye for now #also i have the same birthday as draco malfoy and i found that put via tiktok #gotta love it

47 notes · View notes

prose-for-hire · 3 years

Text

Hopelessly devoted

Pairing: Faith x vamp!reader

Request: I was wondering if I could request something for a sort of ,,reformed'' vampire(theyve had their soul for a while) falling for either Oz or Faith and trying real hard to get on their good side? similar to that of spike I think only they arent as much of a creep abt it aojsbdis thanks

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Mention of killing in reader’s past.

A/N: There... might need to be a second part 💖

Hope was a concept you had always detested. It wasn’t tangible and it made people cling to things that often should have been long forgotten. Hope was something you had tried to remove from everyone’s hearts. Something that you detested more than the lives you had taken.

You had been around for some decades now. A lot of it was very similar. Human nature, for instance. They mistrusted you and for good reason. They could sense it although they did not know what the feeling was. The hair on the back of their neck would stand on end. Their heartbeats would quicken.

In the old days, this would excite you. Make you laugh even. The fear had been intoxicating. Like a fine seasoning. But now, it didn’t interest you. It just made you feel embarrassed.

You fought for your soul. Almost half a century ago now. You had come to terms with it, for the most part. Although, it wasn’t something you could get over in a night.

One thing, that had made your life brighter since was a sudden growing affection that had creeped up on you. For a Slayer.

It had given you a feeling inside. A small ember of something you hadn’t experienced long enough to name in the recent past. Something you hadn’t believed would be possible for someone like you. After all the ways you had tried to snuff the light from everyone else.

It was Faith. You were hopelessly devoted to her. In every sense. You would lay down your un-life for her. Commit every waking moment of yours to her. It was an unending, eternal affection that consumed every inch of you.

You hadn’t known what to do with it to begin with. How to express it. It soon became clear you would need to find a confidant as you couldn’t even begin to express these feelings to her. However, when you had bumped into Spike who you had known from the old days, he wasn’t much help.

For one, he was crying over Drusilla and completely drunk. Wasted out of his mind. The only advice that hadn’t been a slurred mess was when he advised you to watch her every movement until she wore down and gave you the time of day. Which, you had told him firmly that you wouldn’t be doing.

However, tonight, it did appear that this was what you were doing. She was walking through the graveyard alone and her scent had caught your attention as you walked through the streets looking for something to fill your time. Her natural scent was like a sweet perfume. It called to you. Sung heady notes of affection.

You had followed her to the graveyard. You weren’t skulking from the shadows. You weren’t prowling behind gravestones. You were just casually walking up to her. About to announce your presence.

What you didn’t realise was that she had been listening to music. Buffy had always warned her not to take her earphones to patrol but she trusted her instincts. And plus, she was so very bored without it. She often patrolled alone whereas Buffy got all her friends around her.

So, you were about to tap her on her shoulder and say hello when she swung around, taking you by the throat and slamming you against the closest mausoleum. You had squeaked in surprise and then subsequently coughed to try and cover it up as she did.

From nowhere she whipped a stake out and held it to your chest. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened slightly but no more sound came out. You just stood there, almost in awe of her as her hand clasped tight around your throat.

A thought came to mind, that you would at least be happy that she would be the last thing you saw before being damned to an eternal hell dimension.

“You wanna move that heart away from my stake?” She asked, when she finally registered that it was you.

“Sorry, I-I was just-” You stuttered as she moved away from the hold she had on you. You felt yourself move with her, trying to feel her touch for as long as possible.

“Following me? Actin’ on this massive jones you got for me?” She teased. She was joking but it wasn’t a joke to you. You looked away as she stepped back allowing you space. Your eyes had bulged in horror as you looked down, averting your gaze.

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to help”

“Yeah, well, don’t need my own stalker” She warned and you looked so beyond embarrassed it almost hurt her. She wanted to take her words back but she knew you would notice if she did.

“No! N-no not stalking, just making sure that you were, um, okay. I sensed you and-”

“I’m kiddin’, man, don’t freak” She punched your arm in a friendly way and both of you looked at each other slightly awkwardly. You frowned for a moment before you began to smile. She enjoyed the way it made your features brighten and it instantly made her feel better for having spoken the way she had.

“Sorry, I’m not really used to modern humour, I kind of shut myself away after I got my soul… I’m getting used to it though, it was… funny!” You blurted all of this out really quickly before adding the part at the end, trying to make her feel better. Her brow was furrowing again.

She found this admittance endearing almost. She watched your lips as you spoke. She wanted to kiss you. Usually she would make a move. She could give a person a look and end up taking them home. But this meant so much more. With you. She found herself getting a little nervous around you, wanting to make a move but feeling as if she would be rejected. Laughed at, although you had never been like that.

She couldn’t express her feelings. Instead she made jokes about you liking her, trying to gauge your reaction. Which, of course was neutral. Your mental health was still fragile ever since your soul had returned and you couldn’t risk the emotional reaction you may get if she tore your heart from your chest and crushed it with her bare hands.

“I can go though, if it would make you more comfortable-” You insisted, all you wanted was for her to feel comfortable around you.

“No!” She shouted, cringing at the note of desperation she heard in her own voice, “Uh, no, it’s nice to see you y’know? B’s always there when we’re talkin’ now”

You nodded, having noticed this too. When you and Faith would talk when you were able to meet the others in the library, Buffy and the others would always have something for one of you to do on the opposite side of the room. Or just plant themselves into your conversation.

It embarrassed you, that these people could tell that you liked her so much. That they were trying to save Faith from you. Your cursed love for her. Your heart was hers but you understood that just because it was reserved that way, it didn’t mean she would want to choose it from the pile.

This, actually, wasn’t entirely true. That Buffy was ‘saving’ Faith from you. And in some sense, Buffy was trying to save you from Faith too. She knew exactly what it was like to fall and be in a relationship with a vampire. The slayer and vampire love was one she wouldn’t wish on her own enemy. Not even Faith.

You were both good people, Buffy was sure of it, and so she was trying to prevent the inevitable heartbreak that she could sense building between you.

The blonde slayer had been surprisingly accepting of you on the whole, even in your more demonic years you had been more about survival than torture. Plus, you hadn’t been cursed your soul had been sought out - so you weren’t seen as that much of a threat.

This kept happening after a while. The two of you crossing paths on patrol. Until you began to plan where to meet in the evenings rather than hoping to bump into the other. You would meet and patrol together. Both of you enjoying these moments, Faith needed the company. She had felt very lonely until you had begun to power through your worries and try to befriend her the way you had always wanted to.

She enjoyed that it was you though. Your company she was keeping. She would run your interactions through her mind as she sat in her motel room. Just as you would from your crypt.

When you first got to know each other, you had begun talking and found commonalities. Reasons to become fond of the other. You noticed how she didn’t flinch away from you when she first learned about your past the way many others had.

You had been getting on so well that one evening as you were paying for your blood at the butchers, it dawned on you. You hadn’t been doing anything particularly meaningful. Just staring at the jars of blood, salivating guiltily. Until you thought it.

I love Faith.

Such a simple thought, but with such a rush of feelings behind them. It began to descend on you at once after this. A waterfall that you were sure would never stop flowing. You adored her. The way she moved, the way she acted. The softer side you had caught from her on occasion. When you had made her feel comfortable enough to let it slip even for a second.

It was another evening, after you had agreed to meet near the gargoyle that looked a little bit like the Mayor. You walked beside the other, where you would both wish for a demon to occupy your time if you were alone, you began to hope that nobody would interrupt your time together.

You would laugh and swap stories. It was everything. You stole glances at the other when you thought they weren’t looking. Your hands became so close when you were walking that you wanted to reach between the space and entwine your fingers with hers.

Faith had some trouble with getting the hang of this fighting technique that Wesley and Giles had insisted every Slayer should know. Buffy could do it with her eyes closed, of course and Faith was feeling like the understudy again. She wanted to hone her skills like Buffy did but without the ancient old guy staring at her while she did.

As you walked through the exit of the cemetery, you steeled yourself and decided to be brave.

“I could help, if you like…” You offered with a smile. You were experienced at fighting after all.

“Yeah?”

“Sure, as long as it’s not on a sunny afternoon” You joked which made her laugh.

“Hey, you’re gettin’ it” She nodded in approval of your improved humour since you and her had been spending more time together. You grinned gleefully at the compliment and she walked ahead of you, hiding her own smile at the way your face brightened at her words. She loved seeing you smile. Even more so when she was the reason you were smiling.

She stepped into the road and turned to you, wanting to get another look. So she could picture it later, when she was cold and only had the broken tv for company. You were looking at each other and just smiling.

Your smile suddenly dropped. You panicked, sensing the danger before she did. In the past, it would have been a good feeling, the lick of terror. It snapped through the air like a whip. Struck your senses in a way that would elicit a human’s hair standing on end. Goosebumps rising.

Accidental death meant tragedy. Blood. It meant adrenaline. Easy prey. You had enjoyed the taste. You hated that you had enjoyed the taste.

But the feeling was still identifiable. The warning signals still there but it now only meant dread.

Especially when it came to her. You ran at Faith, just hoping you would get to her in time.

“Faith! Watch out!” You screamed.

You tackled her, moving her out of the way of the oncoming traffic. Her slayer senses hadn’t been quick enough for the van that was heading her way. She had been so distracted by the way your features were lit up by the moonlight.

All of the time you had been spending with each other, hidden away from the others. Not telling them that you were together so often. She held onto this, needing this. Needing you. You were sweet, which she hadn’t ever thought she could call a vampire. Even less she wouldn’t think she would have fallen for such a seemingly sweet person.

You couldn’t lose each other, not now you were just finding each other.

You landed, tumbling together onto the other side of the road. Just in time. You landed above her, almost pressed flat against her. You couldn’t help just staring. Holding yourself up slightly so you could see her face.

She was trying to catch up with what had happened, her breathing heavy. That had gone so fast, she could have been really hurt. But you had saved her. Protected her.

She had always prided herself on the way she was so independent. On how she could look out for herself. But the truth was, she wanted you to be there. She wanted to be allowed to fall into your arms, just as she would hold you in hers.

You looked at each other and time stopped. Your eyes flickered from hers to her lips, if she blinked she could have missed it. Her eyes were scanning your face. She loved the way you looked at her as if the entire world revolved around her. You were so close you could feel her breath on your face. All you wanted to do was lean in and kiss her. Catch your lips with hers. She shifted slightly and you thought she might move in, but when she didn’t the feeling of desperate yearning turned into concern.

Concern that she may reject you. That you would no longer get these stolen moments. These patrols where all that made your soul feel relaxed. Comfortable. As if your soul could only feel safe when hers was near. She meant too much. You pulled away, moving your gaze from her.

You got to your feet and heard her exhale. You couldn’t tell if it was from relief or because of the same tension you felt. You weren’t sure you would ever know. You had tried so hard to get onto her good side. To show her you wanted to be friendly. But, this was so much more. It meant too much.

You offered your hand, helping her up and she took it. As she got to her feet, your hands clutching hers. The touch lingered. Until she pulled away. You didn’t realise but she had been about to lean in. Press her lips to yours, the way she had been imagining so often recently. But you had moved away too quickly.

You both looked at each other for a moment in silence before Faith nodded her thanks. You didn’t speak, as if it would be too much after what had happened. Both of you had known that meant something. That this was new. You dared to hope that the other felt the same, but both were too nervous to say. Because rejection, the thought of losing the other. The company. The understanding. Was too great.

You wanted to be hers. Wanted to tell her what she meant to you. You wanted happiness… love. But not at the expense of her feelings should she not reciprocate. So you parted ways, as you always did just before sunrise. You went your way, she went hers.

Your souls, they lingered together like your touch had, not wanting to leave their fate. Maybe one day, they might be allowed to stay together. Once you both worked on prising open your hearts. Allowing the other in.

All you had left now was hope.

82 notes · View notes

h2bakugou · 3 years

Note

hey love 💓 i have a request for sumn really fluffy with kaminari! maybe y/n is alone on a friday night so she invites her best pal denki over to hang out and he immediately comes to her rescue. i'm thinking mutual pining that leads to the confession of feelings??? idk do whatever you think works!! i just really like cute kaminari content lmao

a/n: hey hun! oo yes fluffy kami content i am here for it!! i might do a mini-series for him, don’t know what it’ll be abt but i’ve been thinking about doing lil mini-series for some characters

summary: a boring friday night in your dorm leads to some confessions with your best friend and crush, denki kaminari

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 1.6k

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

Class had been over for hours, and now you were sitting on the floor of your freshly cleaned dorm room, bored out of your mind. Debating on starting up a movie and heading to bed early or playing some game on your phone, you let out an audible groan, frustrated from the lack of entertainment.

It was Friday night. You should’ve been asking if any of the third years were throwing some sort of party that you’d debate going to or up in the common room kitchen making food.

But now your fingers were typing away at the keyboard on your phone to 'Kami’ in your contacts, asking if he’d be down to stop your boredom from becoming fatal.

And in a matter of exactly four minutes and twenty-seven seconds, he was at your door with snacks and his own game console so you could play Mario Kart.

“You are an actual life saver.” You hug him quickly and pull him into your room, admiring the choice of outfit. It was most definitely his pajamas, a pair of loose grey sweats with a graphic tee that had some sort of video game reference on it.

“Anything for you, plus I was getting bored too.” The tone in his voice made your heart flutter. And the three words - anything for you - made your face burn. He was always so suave, even in the times that his charm was more comedic than it was actually charming.

“What should we do first?” You ask, sitting beside him, knee touching knee as you glanced at him and then back to your tv.

“Maybe watch a spooky movie.” Kaminari wiggled his fingers at you, leaning in and tickling your sides as you tensed and started laughing.

“Okay okay! We’ll watch a scary movie. You just want an excuse to cuddle me when you get scared.” You teased him back for tickling you. Kaminari rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“You’ll be scared during this one, it’s just come out, and the trailer had everyone going crazy.” Kaminari explained while he helped you find the movie. Turning off the lights, you returned with a blanket and tucked the two of you under it nice and cozy.

It had never felt weird between the two of you, like when you held hands or cuddled. You’d been Kaminari’s friend since entrance exams, and you’d been best friends since the first week of school.

And now that your heart longed to be more than just a friend or a best friend, holding his hand or cuddling with him filled that sort of odd space in your heart.

And Kaminari was the same. He enjoyed feeling your hand in his, or having your arms wrapped around his waist while you laid exhausted in his bed after a day of training in the gym.

He’d been crushing on you since day one, you were the one girl that never pushed him away, or dodged all his advances, you were sweet but tough, kind and sharp, you were everything Kaminari loved.

Slinging his arm around your shoulder, he pulled you closer to him so he could rest his head on yours, his eyes flicking from actually paying attention to the movie to paying attention to you, to the way your fingers with chipped nail polish would reach for some popcorn and then retreat back to laying over his.

Whenever a jumpscare or scary part of the movie appeared, you’d both huddle into each other, too scared to try and make a witty remark about the both of you being wusses.

And finally when the movie had come to an end, an hour and a half had passed. You sat in the darkness while the credits rolled, giggling about the funny parts of the movie.

“And when the slasher was actually just walking and he still killed them, come on now! It’s not that hard to survive.” Kaminari groaned, frustrated that the plot had been so predictable.

“And you would survive one of these scenarios?” You smile, calling Kaminari out on his bullshit.

“I know I would. Because I would have you on my team.” Kaminari hums, flicking the tip of your nose. Your face scrunches up from the sting of impact. You shove him playfully and he pulls you over on top of him.

You sit on his lap and sigh.

“I mean If I wouldn’t die I guess I can’t let you die either.” You laugh, staring into his golden eyes.

“Have you had your first kiss yet?” Kaminari asked blindly. You’re taken aback by the question, it had come out of nowhere.

“I haven’t. But please don’t make fun of me because have you had your first kiss?” You raise your eyebrows, praying he hadn’t.

“I have. I’ve kissed lots of people.” Kaminari lied, trying to seem cool. He was shitting himself, he had the chance, the opening, the timing, it was all perfect. You were sitting in his lap, your fingers playing with the collar of his sleep shirt, all he had to do was lean in and kiss you.

Surely it wasn’t that hard. It was a kiss. He’d seen people do it in movies several times, countless times, and he’d heard from Mina that kissing was super intimate even just little playful kisses.

Surely he could do this.

“Are you listening to me?” You pull Kaminari out of his thoughts but he’s quick to answer your question, pressing his lips to yours. It’s short, very short, and a bit awkward. His lips fit against yours, and right when you go to kiss him back, he’s gone, pulling away from you to grin at you.

“Kami did you-”

“Was it good?” Kaminari asks, beaming with excitement. You smile and shake your head.

“It lasted for like three seconds, if you’re gonna kiss me, kiss me like you mean it dummy, like this.” You lean in and press your lips to his. You were new to this, and judging by that kiss, you knew that he’d lied.

You guided his lips with your own, going off of what just felt right. Kissing wasn’t rocket science, it was a discovery, a journey, you just had to know how to lead and follow.

Pulling away when you needed to breathe, Kaminari was breathless, literally and figuratively. He stared at you with pink cheeks, awestruck by the kiss he’d just had with you.

“I thought you said you hadn’t kissed anyone!” Kaminari wasn’t upset, but he was curious as to how you’d kissed so well.

“I haven’t.” You were telling the truth, letting your arms rest on his shoulders you rested your forehead against his.

“Then how-”

“I don’t know.” You cut him off, laughing. Kaminari sighed and pressed another gentle and shy kiss to your lips, still unsure of how to really kiss you. It was sweet, but you reassured him that it wasn’t all that hard. You moved his hands to sit on your hips as you kissed him back, leaning more into the kiss.

Kaminari sat up some, taking the lead and finally showing some confidence. When he pulled away, it was your turn to be flustered. You looked away, trying to hide your red cheeks from him but his hands were quick to deter your movements.

“Please tell me that you like me back because-”

“I do.” You cut him off once more, finally looking back at him. Kaminari sighed and leaned back against your bed, happy to know that his feelings were mutual. You giggle and tug on his hands to pull him back up.

“Everyone already thinks we’re a couple ya know.” You tease, rubbing your thumbs over his knuckles.

“I know, believe Sero and Kirishima both keep telling me to make a move already and well I have now but I’m glad I did because god you are just so perfect and I was so scared that you didn’t like me and that I was just stuck in the friend-zone.” Kaminari pouted.

“Are you kidding?! I thought I was being friend-zoned! You’re always so flirty I was just like ‘oh my god he’s gonna reject me if I ask him out.’“ You laugh at your past thoughts, finding it funny that had you just trusted your heart you would’ve been together sooner.

“Why on Earth would I reject you?! You’re smart, funny, beautiful, pretty, beautiful.” Kaminari’s eyes are wide with admiration as he stares at you, a goofy grin on his lips as he holds you closer to him, letting you lay against his chest.

“You’re pretty too, Kami.” You compliment him, kissing his cheek delicately before resting your head back on his shoulder.

“Awe, thank you. No one’s ever called me pretty before.” Kaminari’s hands rub your back, tracing little shapes on your shirt as the two of you talk.

“Well you are beautiful so now you have.” You smile.

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” Kaminari asks, he didn’t have much money, but what he did have, he would most certainly use to at least take you to get a drink at a café or something.

“Of course.” You hug him, embracing the comfortable warmth he was radiating.

“Wanna watch me beat some bad guys on my new video game?” Kaminari offers some more entertainment and you’re quick to respond, hopping off of his lap so you can watch the screen.

You lay with your head in his lap, his hands playing with your hair whenever his screen was loading or during a cutscene.

You eventually fell asleep, Kaminari managing to turn off the console shortly after to doze off with you.

The next day would bring more laughs, more kisses, and more time with Kaminari, and a few congratulations from your classmates who had seen the relationship coming from miles away.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

#kaminari #denki kaminari #kaminari denki #kaminari x reader #denki #denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

120 notes · View notes