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justporo · 8 months

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A Night of Staying In

After all the doom and gloom in other writing I really needed some cutesy fluff to feel myself again - and also to give Astarion and Tav a break.

Summary: So have Tav and Astarion just enjoying a cozy night in - also Astarion gets a carrot hurled at his face.

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav Warnings: Mention of sex, a carrot gets thrown and then murdered Wordcount: 2,2k

Delicious smells of slowly cooking meats and vegetables, spices and a forgotten mint tea were wafting through the kitchen of your cozy little townhouse.

You were bustling around the well-equipped kitchen. The apron you were wearing was full of stains and its pockets full of cooking utensils – even a half-full spoon absent-mindedly tugged away in one of them. It was slowly leaking through the linen with something on it that looked like blood – but was simply a tomatoey sauce. Your hair was messily put up in a bun, but several strands of hair had fallen out of it and you looked only so far from a mental breakdown.

At the kitchen table Astarion was sitting with a lantern, bowing over an embroidery project. He had the very bright lantern you’d gifted him specifically for this purpose directly next to him, but he was still squinting at his work and holding it so close his nose was almost touching the fabric. He looked a lot less demented than you but still very absent-minded.

Fabrics and threads were strewn all about the wooden table. Different needles were glinting everywhere on it too. One could only hope that those would be remembered at some point – preferably before someone stuck them in their fingers.

Next to him were also laying some loose papers, a feather and an ink pot with lots of writing that was then crossed out again and also some small little doodles on the corners – one for whatever reason happened to be a goose with a knife in its beak.

You had several pots on the iron stove and something about to go in the oven as well. Critically you were moving around between all of these things, clattering with copper pot lids, jars of ingredients and spoons to try the food (always in the same pattern: grabbing a new spoon, trying something, putting the spoon in the dish bowl full of dirty water – then having to grab a new spoon). You had some potatoes boiling and in another pot you had been cooking a mixture of vegetables and beef for quite some time. You wanted to recreate a recipe of cottage pie that you had once tried many years ago in a tavern and had kept reappearing in your dreams. And now you finally had the kitchen and the tools to try and cook it yourself!

But it seemed impossible to get it right, this already being your fourth attempt this week. The vampire had already been moaning that you had basically force-fed him the meal because you had no way of eating that much pie on your own. It was not, that the finished pies hadn’t tasted well, but they just weren’t like you remembered. But you started to think that it might be your memory that was tricking you and not your cooking skills.

You went to try the pie filling again after adding some more spices and dash more red wine (directly from your goblet because you didn’t seem to remember where you put the bottle).

As soon as the spoonful hit your tongue you knew you had done it – finally.

You shrieked and immediately heard another shriek behind you in reply. You turned around to Astarion with glee and saw how the vampire was staring at you angrily and shaking his hand. It didn’t take a genius to figure out your sudden excitement had caused him to stab himself with his needle.

“Darling, can you maybe not scream like a dying goblin, I was concentrating!”, he hissed at you. Your joy evaporated at his flare of anger – so you turned around again, grabbed a left over half of carrot and threw it at Astarion – and maybe a bit more forceful than would have been necessary.

But he was still a rogue and dodged the vegetable easily. It flew against one of the cabinets and then to the ground. There it stayed until Scratch came into the kitchen, drawn there by the sudden noises. The dog sniffed at the piece of vegetable, then grabbed it and went off again.

“Oh really, are we at the ‘I throw stuff at my lover’ point of our relationship now, love?”, Astarion replied to your responsive outburst of anger with a raised eyebrow. “Am I going to have to sleep on the sofa next?”, he continued sassily.

Your hand itched to grab more produce – there were some potatoes still laying around and they made for excellent improvised throwing weapons. But you saw the smirk that played around the vampire’s lips. So you settled for a verbal rebuttal.

“Don’t be such a prick and you can keep sleeping inside”, you said and flipped him off. Then you turned around again to your cooking and grabbed – yet another – spoon and scooped up some of the filling. The vampire mumbled something under his breath about he wouldn’t have to be a prick if you didn’t make him prick himself.

“Oh, that would be so gracious of you, my dear lady, if I was still allowed in your shining presence”, Astarion then said loudly as you were busy with the pots. The tone still very sassy but you heard the playfulness in it now and knew he was now only teasing.

You went over to him, with one hand under the spoon full of hot goodness that immediately started dripping and burning your hand. You winced but kept going.

“Here, try this – I think I got it now”, you said as you stood in front of Astarion who had put down his needlework for the time being. He threw you a pained look: “Love, if you keep feeding me this I think I might actually start to get a pot belly.”

You snorted at him and eyed what you could see of his upper body. “Pretty sure, you will never have to worry about this kind of thing. Now. Try. It”, you answered and insistingly came closer with the spoon.

Astarion sighed, gave you another suffering look and then let himself be fed. His doubtful expression quickly changed to what you interpreted as pleasantly surprised.

“Alright, I take everything back, that was well worth the scream of enlightenment, my sweet. That tastes wonderful”, the vampire said and grinned at you.

“See, wasn’t so hard, was it”, you said and gave him a quick peck on the lips as you could see his face changing to annoyance once more at your petty remark.

You threw the spoon in the dish bowl and rubbed your hands on your apron and started to get everything ready for the final step of the recipe. Meanwhile you said to Astarion: “So, darling, could you write down the following: one and a half cups of red wine and three instead of two sprigs of thyme and just loads of black pepper.”

“Of course, my darling chef”, Astarion replied cheerfully and grabbed the feather and papers laying next to him to write it down. “Any other changes?”

“No, this will be it”, you responded and happily clapped your hands before you put your filling in a cast iron pan, mashed and seasoned the potatoes and then put them down as the topping of your pie. The final touch was some hearty cheese sprinkled on top. Then you put it all in the oven.

In the meantime, you heard the feather scratching over the paper.

“What are you doing, Astarion?”, you asked as you took off the oven mitts from pushing the pan in to cook.

“Just putting the recipe in clean writing for you, my heart”, the vampire replied as he kept looking through older versions and notes on the papers. Brows furrowed as he was concentrating on it.

“That’s sweet, love, thank you”, you said to him but he didn’t reply and probably hadn’t even noticed. Of course – if you said something actually nice you fell on deaf ears.

So you decided to thank him with another gesture. You grabbed another goblet to pour your vampire a cup of wine but as you looked around to find the opened bottle you saw that it had been next to Astarion with an already filled cup all along.

You gave up and sat down across the table with your own cup of wine as Astarion finished up writing. You put one leg up on the bench and hugged it to your chest, head on top of the knee and watched the pale elf.

“Here you go, my sweet”, the vampire exclaimed cheerfully after a few more moments and handed you the finished recipe that was now written cleanly in his neat and beautiful handwriting. ‘Tav’s specialty cottage pie’ stood atop the page and next to it was a little doodle of some steaming hot pie.

You smiled broadly at Astarion: “Thank you, darling.” Then you shortly leaned on the table, almost climbing over it to give him a kiss while carefully trying to avoid the needles.

“Do you sometimes wonder how we ended up like this?”, you softly asked him after you had read through the finished recipe.

“Like what?”

“Well, like this – all domestic. I’m cooking, you’re embroidering, we’re bickering like an old married couple, drinking wine and just enjoying a cozy night in instead of wreaking havoc somewhere out there”, you said and waved vaguely in the direction of the city beyond the walls of your home. Then you took another sip of wine.

“Let’s be honest with ourselves, we’ve been bickering like that from the moment we met”, Astarion answered and looked at you sternly. You shrugged in agreement.

“As for the rest – well, are you enjoying the way we spend our nights like this sometimes? Because if you’re bored-“

“No no, I’m enjoying this an awful lot. It’s just – this is somehow the most unlike turn of events don’t you think? Like, I sometimes can’t believe we actually ended up in the version where we’ll live happily ever after”, you said and cradled your face in your hand not currently holding a cup of wine.

At your words a warm and adoring smile crept onto Astarion’s face.

“Are you though?”, you asked then.

“Hm?”

“Are you enjoying these kinds of nights?”, you asked Astarion again and lifted your head up to look straight at him.

The vampire looked at you, smile still playing around his lips: “Well, my love, after two hundred years full of godsdamned shit I am enjoying this sort of mundanity quite a lot. And I enjoy it even more because I get to spend it with you. I might even enjoy doing the dishes with you later on – unless you don’t splash me like last time.”

You smiled at him too now, broadly – feeling incredibly lucky that you had indeed taken all the right turns that had led you here, to this: sitting at this kitchen table with the love of your life, talking about doing the dishes.

“But if we ever get bored, my sweet, I have quite a lot of ideas on how to spice things up”, Astarion continued afterwards. The smile morphed into a lewd smirk and his red eyes sparkled mischievously: “For example, I could dramatically throw everything on this table to the ground, rip all your clothes off and have my way with you on this table until you forget your own name.”

His voice had suddenly become deep and smooth like dark molten chocolate. You bit your bottom lip as the mental image of his words set in and you just stared into his eyes point blank. Astarion still looked at you, not breaking eye contact, and his teasing smirk only growing.

“Nah”, you made after some more moments, “not tonight. My cottage pie would burn.” Your tone was matter-of-fact and you drank some more of your wine while still looking into the vampire’s eyes.

Then you both broke down laughing. So much so that you had to wipe tears from your eyes by the end and Astarion had his face buried in one of his hands while silent fits of laughter still shook through him.

“Alright”, he said and bit his lip, one of his fangs showing adorably as if he was a cat, “I’ll write it down for another date night then.” You broke out laughing again.

Until you could actually smell your food burning. With an “oh shit” you jumped up and pulled the pan out of the oven – you had saved it just in time.

You got out some plates and forks, and put some generous servings onto them. As you turned around your gaze fell onto the table full of Astarion’s embroidery supplies. Astarion saw your look, then waved it off, dismissing it.

He grabbed one of the filled plates from you and grabbed your then free hand to lead you to the living room. Scratch was there laying on his designated blanket, chewing on his favourite ball. Some telltale orange spots telling the tale of the fallen carrot.

You settled down on your sofa with your food – you swinging your legs over Astarion’s and getting cozy.

And this is where you stayed: eating until you felt like your belly might burst, joking until you were crying again, talking until you got so tired you almost drifted off into dreaming right then and there. And when you had went to bed: holding each other until you woke up in the other’s arms again.

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #tav #one shot #drabble #poro fics

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babykittenteach · 6 months

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Stede saving Ed from nature!

I regret to confess this idea went way too far for a doodle, anon.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ed teach #stede bonnet #ask #So much for doing low effort things #the rest of the inbox messages Will Not be this much work

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ccastellans · 3 months

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love letters.

luke castellan x gn!reader

SUMMARY: luke castellan decides to give you a love letter during a difficult day.

AUTHORS NOTE: no usage of y/n (just “reader” insert), this is very unedited, i haven’t written in a few months so don’t judge me 😭😭

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it was an incredibly hot day in camp half blood, and of course they chose strawberry picking as the activity of the day.

the scorching heat was already keeping you on edge, but it just so happens that nothing seemed to be working in your favor today.

you had accidentally dropped your bucket and spilled all of the strawberries you had managed to pick so far. and to top it all off, some of the other campers were being particularly pushy and rude, making it impossible to simply relax and enjoy the activity.

as the strawberry picking went on, your frustration and short temper only grew, and you began to feel like you were losing control. your fingers began to fumble as you were desperately trying to pick this one tough strawberry that just wouldn’t come off the green vine.

suddenly, you feel a soft tap on your back. you jump from the sudden contact, and quickly turn around defensively. although, your stance and gaze soften when you see that it’s just luke castellan.

the curly, brown haired boy silently greets you with his welcoming grin, and hands you a little folded up paper before running off to continue his counsellor duties. you already feel a little lighter just from the small interaction you had with the hermes cabin counsellor.

you focus on the folded up paper that he has handed to you. as curiosity takes over, you begin to unravel the paper.

when you finish unfolding the paper, you’re greeted with a lined sheet of paper, covered in words. you can feel a pair of eyes burning a hole into the back of your head as you stare at the lined paper. you acknowledge the little doodles littered around the page. little red hearts, smiley faces, and even some messy ones that you’re unable to decipher. the letter reads;

“ to reader,

hey there! :) it seems like you’ve been having a pretty rough day, and i just wanted to let you know that you're doing great! <3 dont let the other campers get to you, and don't focus on the strawberries you've lost. i love you so so much!! you always bring a smile to my face and make my heart feel so full of joy, so i hope this letter can make you feel that way too.

with all my heart,

luke castellan. :) “

your heart flutters as you process all of the kind words luke wrote to you. you cant help it when your eyes search for luke amongst the field of strawberries. it’s almost as if the two of you were thinking the same thing, because as your eyes find his; his eyes are already trained on you. and of course he’s wearing that adorable smile of his.

you cant help but grin at the boy, and silently mouth the words “thank you” , hoping he can read your lips. luke just nods back at you, as the grin on his face grew impossibly larger.

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#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fluff #charlie bushnell #luke castellan #percy jackson

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naffeclipse · 1 year

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I don't know when I'll ever write this, but I've had this AU in the back of my mind ever since Bendy and the Dark Revival came out, and it's best to get it out of my head before it festers and rots.

More or less, it's BatDR and the DCA smashed into one. The premise is that you are an animator at Fazbear Studios and Sun and Moon are humans who go by Cyrus and Mani respectively, employed as voice actors. (First AU with human Sun and Moon whoo! don't get attached though) Vanessa is a janitor who is a bit odd, mostly keeping to herself though sometimes you feel like she's starting at your back when you're alone.

Cyrus and Mani perform as extras in the Fazbear cartoon, adding supporting voices for side characters and miscellaneous lines. Cyrus often supplies humorous, wacky, and surreal voices to his performances. Mani tends to get villainous or spooky characters with his deeper, raspier voice. They both enjoy what they do and love that they can work together as brothers.

You can't help but notice Cyrus and Mani. You admire their skill, their passion, and their smiles, and you sometimes even work up the courage to wave at Cyrus or Mani whenever one of the brothers happens to pass by your work desk.

They inspire you—not just with their work, but with their small acts of care. You find coffee on your desk when you return from a meeting with the other animators with a little smiling sun doodled on the cup. Sometimes, Cyrus asks you to join him on a walk since it's your lunch break and you could really use some sunshine and a chance to stretch your legs. When it gets far too late and you're burning the midnight oil, Mani is somehow always there, doing a funny voice to surprise you with a little reminder that it's past your bedtime. He leaves you little treats in blue wrappers, hidden in places on your desk, among your ink and papers.

It's not a surprise that you start drawing a character for them in your rare off hours when you still have the energy to hold a pencil. The Fazbear cartoon could add a new, permanent character. A robotic jester, lanky and tall, but with two forms for the day and night, funny and sweet and mischievous. Cyrus and Mani could both voice him!

That's silly, however. Fazbear Studios does not want your chaotic and half-brained scribbles nor do you dare show the brothers what they inspired—they might hate it. You keep your little jester character tucked away, along with a small doodle of a minor, nobody, gray character who may or may not be a tag along to the main act that is the jester. Your sketches and concept art are hidden away, far from where the light of day or the shine of night will ever see.

It goes missing one day. You're upset and asking everyone who went through your desk. No one confesses. Cyrus tells you that it'll be okay, he'll help you find it. Mani suggests that you keep locks on your drawers from now on.

It's never found, not that you wanted either of them to stumble upon it. Yet, they stay late with you after everyone has gone home, looking for your precious and secretive sketchbook through the many departments of the studio.

Somewhere along the way, Cyrus disappears, promising to return with your sketchbook. You lose Mani in the audio department before, oh, there's Vanessa. She tells you to come to the basement with her—she found your notebook. You're relieved but a little put off by Vanessa and reluctantly follow her down into the dark.

You don't find your sketchbook, but you do find Cyrus slumped against the wall, blood trickling down his temple, and a strange collection of shrines to one of the studio's cartoon characters.

Before you can rush to his side, pain explodes in your skull, cracking white across your vision. You fall to the ground, dazed, as Vanessa gives a cryptic promise to return with the last sacrifice. You manage to crawl across the floor in your pitiful state to reach Cyrus and attempt to revive him, but by then, Mani is walking in. His shock overtakes him but he dodges a swipe of Vanessa's wrench and starts struggling against her. You try desperately to drag Cyrus somewhere safe as he murmurs for you to get out of here, but in the middle of Vanessa's and Mani's fight, she flips a switch and ink begins filling the room.

The black flood sweeps Cyrus away from you. Pages spill out from the inside of Vanessa's vest, dozens of sketches of your jester character. You cry out. Mani looks to you. Vanessa at last shoves Mani into the surge of onyx liquid beside Cyrus, and you watch both of them go under together. You scream their names. She turns to you, grinning.

The last thing you remember is Vanessa shoving your head into the ink.

Then it's the only thing you remember. You're vaguely aware that your jet-black hands are strange and shiny, and that you don't know where you are in this sepia-colored studio, but you know something's not right. You're missing someone, and someone else. You're scared.

You wander around for a bit until you're attacked by monsters emerging from the ink, shrieking and wailing in gluey dark forms until a wonderful and terrifying automaton arrives. He destroys such a creature about to tear you apart. He stands so tall, detailed with sharp teeth and even sharper sun rays around his large, flat face, but you think you recognize those yellow eyes—a living cartoon.

He helps you calm down and asks for your name in a loud and funny voice that rings like a bell in your mind but you can't name the tune. You don't remember your name. He doesn't remember his either. He leads you away from the harsher spaces of the studio, somewhere 'safer'. You don't know if there is anything as safe, but you feel better with him.

You're startled when after a time, in the middle of talking to this sunshine character, he melts and morphs and bubbles until a crescent moon face emerges and a new grin. You panic before a darker, raspier voice, like a cartoon villain, tells you it's alright. He's here, too. He's not sure what's going on but he, and the other 'him', and you are gonna make it out of here, somehow.

You don't have hope anywhere else but in this unique robot jester, and he seems to want you to stay close to him. So it's you two, the last sane partnership in the crazed and dripping studios, fighting off ink creatures and surviving other bizarre characters. You learn how to wield a gent pipe and the jester is strong on his own, often able to tear things apart or toss monsters off of you before they can do worse. He has claws and teeth and he uses them well.

Vanny is a lady rabbit and a constant threat. She's smart and cunning, unlike the other mostly senseless attackers. She keeps tracking the two of you down and spouting off the religious rhetoric of Inktrap, promising that your sacrifices will be well worth the pain. You had to be introduced to the cycle. The ink has corrupted you perfectly. You are part of this place. You are never leaving and will give in to Inktrap.

You and he avoid Inktrap at all costs. You've only caught glimpses of the shadowy, pitch-black beast, but that's all you need to see as you both hide and hold your breaths until the danger just barely passes by.

You start to call the daytime jester Sun, and he seems to respond to it. The nighttime joker is Moon, and he neither hates nor loves it, but he answers when you call. He has a name for you, too, or rather names. Peach, bird, thrill, calico, and sweetheart. He gets creative and goofy. You think he's being mean sometimes but he tells you he's not, he means it, and you don't know how to take that before you two have to focus on escaping this part of the studio and getting into safer areas. You protect his back and he protects yours, and together, you make this living, unending nightmare bearable. Sharing bacon soup, falling asleep in Moon's lap, and patching up any drips in Sun's inky form becomes something like a life.

It just never stops, repeating over and over. The jester deserves better than this, whatever happened to him. You know you both do.

You become determined to learn how the cycle works and how to prevent it from going on. There's a funny feeling you have that, somehow, you're going to have to go through Vanny and the Inkdemon. One day, you will get the jester and yourself free.

You need to see his and your happy ending.

#sidenote: cyrus is pronounced cy-rus and mani is pronounced mah-ni not manny #also their last name is Sterle but i don't know if that would ever come up #sorry that's all i'm gonna put here as a sort of summary #there's a dramatic ending with the jester saving your life but it comes at a price of merging with inktrap #and that's when eclipse comes out to play #but despite looking as terrifying as he is now and fighting for control #he still loves you! (whoops he wasn't supposed to say that last part out loud)#The Jester and the Tagalong #bendy and the dark revival FNAF AU #this goes out to wynnibee for reminding me this was buried in my drafts!

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allysunny · 2 months

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Heartwired Love

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Engineer!Reader

Synopsys: When Bruce surprises Lucius with a visit to his department, he wasn't expecting to find a beautiful woman there. He asks about her and that's how he discovers she's not only pretty, but extremely talented, an engineer who's been working under him for years. He's immediately mesmerised.

Words: 6.1k words

Warnings: Not much, I'd say? There's a lot of fluff, and a lot of funny moments, and like, one suggestive moment? One twinge of angst, but it lasts like two minutes. Maybe some inaccuracies about engineering? I really don't know much about it so I kinda went with my gut and holy fuck I hope I don't get it wrong or upset / offend anyone.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! So, this is a funny story, because a while ago I got an ask. And I thought I was writing that ask, but turns out I got everything mixed up, and this is not really what my sweet anon requested of me. So, while I work on that piece, have what I ended up writing! I think it's rather fun. I'm sorry to my anon, I'll get started on their request right away!

I hope y'all enjoy this!!! <3

You were brilliant.

In fact, if there was a word for anyone better than brilliant, that’d be you.

Bruce first saw you when he visited the Applied Sciences Department. He was quite sure Lucius was the only one who actually did any of the important work there, but boy was he wrong.

He was just visiting the floor to ask Lucius for some help (his suit needed improvements), when he spotted you under a flurry of blueprints and reports. There was a pencil on top of your ear, and you were nibbling on another one as you erased something on the paper in front of you.

“And who might this be?” He asked no one in particular, eyes trailing the way your eyebrows furrowed as you wrote and sketched away.

You told him your last name, not even daring to look up. You were far too busy - a new particle reactor was being built, and it had fallen upon you to build its security system, something that’d keep the machine should it fall on the wrong hands. Bruce leaned over and looked at your sketches, observing the careless handwriting and the doodles and the little comments you had on top of each calculation. “Not good”, “doesn’t work”, “tested and failed”.

“And how long have you been working for me?” He inquired once again, still looking over your blueprints. Your calculations were good - far too good. Where the hell had Lucius found you?

“Lucius,” you mumbled, removing the pencil from behind your ear and drawing a big cross on top of whatever you were writing.

“Excuse me?”

“I work for Lucius, not you,” you said, not even bothering to look up.

“Lucius works for me, though.”

“And I work for him.” Finally, you looked up, and what you saw did not surprise you. You knew Bruce Wayne’s voice, after all, Lucius did work for him, and you’d overheard them talking once or twice. You looked up to him immensely - he was an insanely smart man, you knew what he had achieved in your department (or at least you knew he had something to do with it), and you wanted to cause a good impression. It also did not help that he was extremely attractive, and you were afraid your body would betray you and give you away. It was nothing, really, just a small little crush. It was harmless, really, and you’d rather be noticed for your work, than anything else. You wanted him to see how smart you were, not notice just how much you admired him.

“Are these for the particle reactor?” Bruce asked, leaning against your desk, hoping to hold eye contact with you for a little longer. He liked that look on you, that focused gaze of yours. It reminded him of himself.

You nodded and shook your head with a sigh.

“I’m working on the security system. But so far, it’s been a bust. I can’t find any combinations that allow Wayne Enterprises full access to the system. Full and only. I'm trying to come up with an algorithm that’ll prevent third parties from accessing whatever services the reactor might have, but it’s tough.” Bruce nodded.

“How long have you been at it?”

“Two weeks, give or take. I managed to write a short thing for the opening sequence, but that’s about it. I still have to come up with the rest, and it’s killing me.” You leaned backwards in your chair and stretched, letting out a groan. “And my back hurts like a bitch.”

Bruce chuckled ever so slightly - he wasn't used to this kind of honesty and openness right off the bat. He supposed anyone who worked under Lucius’s supervision would be just like him, honest and truthful.

“How about you take a break?” He crossed his arms, tilting his head. You looked away - was that the famous Wayne Charm he put on every time you watched him on television? You weren't going to be fooled. You didn't want to be just a number on his list. You admired this man far too much to get your heart broken by him - not to mention your job at Wayne Enterprises was a dream, and you did not want to risk that. Did all of that even make sense?

“Mr. Wayne, I don’t think I can afford the luxury of taking breaks,” you chuckled, turning back to your blueprints.

“And if it’s an order?”

“You wouldn't do that. You have far better things to do than order some random nobody to take a break.”

“You don’t seem like a nobody to me.”

“Up until today you didn't even know who I was, and I've been working for you for about two years.”

“For me.” “Huh?”

“You said you were working for me.”

“Under Lucius.”

“Same difference.”

You chuckled at his smugness and let your eyes return to his handsome face. The magazines did not lie - he was even better-looking in person. Sharp jawline, chocolate-brown eyes, he was an absolute dream, and he probably knew it too. Which is why it felt wrong to be laughing along with him. You didn't want to taint the image of Bruce Wayne you had in your head. He seemed like an airhead in public, but you knew just how much he did and contributed to your department - not every airhead can do that. The little crush you’d allowed yourself to develop should remain just that - a crush. People say never to meet your heroes - well, you didn't want to date them either. You thought it would end just as badly.

“Looking at security algorithms all day isn't going to make you come up with them faster. Take a break. I know a nice coffee place not far from here, I'm sure it’d help. And after that, if you want to, you can come back here, drown in blueprints, and never be disturbed again.”

You eyed him curiously, raising an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because you look like you’re a sketch away from having a mental breakdown, and despite what everyone says, I do care about my employees’ health.”

You weighed your options.

You could either get coffee with your super hot, super intelligent, super incredible boss, maybe talk to him a bit about your work and prove that you’re an amazing employee, or -

Yeah, it’s not really a hard choice, is it.

That's how you got yourself seated across from Bruce Fucking Wayne, yapping away about your ideas and projects. And surprisingly, he drank up every single word.

As cliché as it might sound, the rest was history.

Bruce took a liking to you almost instantly. You were so smart, so full of ideas and so innovative. It also helped that you were strikingly beautiful, and that he felt himself drawn to you every time you were near.

You allowed yourself to fall for Bruce. Slowly, but you did. Only after he proved to you that he was a good person, that he was nothing like the man people saw on TV and gossip magazines. He was more, much more than that. He was extremely intelligent, being an incredible match for whenever you wanted to discuss any new technological advances, and a very good conversation partner. It helped you two had a shared interest in applied sciences - soon, spending time together also doubled down as him giving you a hand with your projects, and you with him.

It was a win-win situation. You enjoyed spending time with him, he enjoyed spending time with you. You liked doing a good job, he liked helping you. It was perfect.

And it wasn't just about work, of course, you just liked being with him, in his presence. He was comforting and so very funny, and your heart could about burst with joy whenever he was near.

You had that same effect on him as well. During company dinners, he started paying attention to you more and more, dragging you away to dark corridors and telling you jokes and anecdotes about other workers and people he disliked. He'd place his hand on your lower back and bring you close so you could hide your face in his chest and giggle into it. It felt natural to be in his arms, like nothing had changed and nothing ever would.

About three or four months after you began talking and hanging out, he officially asked you to be his girlfriend.

You knew it was a big deal - normal people could date and fool around all they wanted, but not Bruce Wayne. So when he took your hand and looked into your eyes, you knew it was serious.

It had been a lovely evening. A dinner at some nice restaurant you’d always wanted to try but could not afford, a stroll in the park, and his sweet confession under the bright lights of Gotham. It was perfect, and you’d kissed him and thus sealed your romance.

Work became easy to manage after that. You could often be found at Lucius's department, and were often buried with a thousand different projects, so you really didn't have the time to miss Bruce. It's not like you didn't miss him as a whole - simply that you knew the both of you had business to tend to, and the quicker you got it done with, the quicker you could meet up after.

But that’s not to say you didn't spend time together at work. Bruce visited you on your lunch breaks more than often, the two of you pressed against each other as you spoke and ate your respective meals. There was nothing Bruce wanted more than to bring you to his office and spend time with you there, but it was risky. No one knew you were dating, and it could mean trouble for your department and his company. You didn't mind it - your space felt like home, and having Bruce there just added to its charm. Besides, you felt like some sort of character from a movie, hiding your secret relationship with your boss from the entire world. Well, not the entire world. Lucius found the both of you quite often, shooting you Bruce a wink, and you a knowing smile, and telling his boss about how “real smiles look good on him” and how he should smile them more often.

Speaking of home, you got to meet his. Bruce took you to his Manor a few days after you’d started dating. He wanted you to be around his place more often. Being Batman was lonely - being Bruce Wayne was even worse. He had to go home to an empty Manor pretty much every day, with only Alfred for company. And no offense to the older man, he had taken care of Bruce his whole life and he was extremely grateful for that. But the Wayne heir did not exactly want to come home to his butler sleeping on his bed, clad only in one of his shirts. It was a vision he never wanted to have.

Instead, he gave you a set of keys and told you to make yourself at home. If you didn't know just how serious he was about the two of you, you wouldn't have accepted them. And it’s not like you’d be moving in right away - the keys were simply so you could come in and out as you pleased, spend some time with him, spend the night if you wanted to.

He had rules, which you understood. No going in the piano room - that was his father’s old study and he did not want anyone in there. It seemed inviting, and the books on the shelves tempted you, but you did not want to break Bruce’s trust and never entered it.

You made friends with Alfred rather quickly. You found the way to his heart was fixing the coffee machine he so loved and refused to replace.

“Miss, with all due respect, do you know what you’re doing?” He’d asked in that low British voice of his, somewhat worried.

“I promise you, it’ll be good as new.”

To your credit, it was. You'd fixed it after a few minutes, and Alfred marveled as the machine he’d tried to have fixed about seven times the past month worked flawlessly before him. When Bruce got home that day, the butler turned to him with a proud nod and declared you were the one for him.

Bruce thought so too.

That’s why he began planning how the hell he was going to break up with you before things got too serious.

He knew he liked you - that much was obvious. He liked you very much. He liked you, and your personality, and your voice when you chastised him but also when you praised him and told him you loved him, loved your sarcastic sense of humour, loved the way you made his heart leap out of his chest with a simple smile. He thought of all the reasons that made him like you so much, and they only reminded him of why you couldn't be together. He couldn't have you in his life - not when he had a double identity, when he kept a secret as big as life itself. He couldn't drag you into his mess of a life.

Which is why breaking up hurt him a thousand times more than it did you.

He sat you down in his living room and spewed some bullshit about not being able to give you the future you wanted, something about not being a good person and you deserving better. He wasn't very clear, kept it short and concise, and confined himself to his bedroom after it was done so you wouldn't see him cry.

It broke your heart to say the least. You'd come to know this man and learned to love him so deeply, and to have all that happiness taken away from you was devastating. You wanted to follow him to his bedroom, ask why the hell he was doing that to you when you loved each other so much, when you were sure your love was stronger than any force in the world.

But something inside you made you hesitate in front of his father’s study. You were told to never enter that room, but right now, all you wanted to do was go against each and every one of Bruce’s rules. You wanted to love him, to be with him, to go inside the stupid room and play the piano he told you never to touch.

You walked inside, marveled at how pretty everything was, how right. Everything was in its right place, and the room seemed like a very soothing room to be in. You imagined yourself, sitting by the window, book in hand as you sipped your coffee. You could get used to that.

Bruce clearly had no idea what you were up to, because if he did, he wouldn't have let you wander around the room, looking through bookshelves to find out what kind of reading his father did, and finding a weird contraption that seemed far too odd to belong to a bookshelf. That sort of mechanism belonged in doors, in gateways, in entrances - more specifically, to the kind of hidden doors Lucius’s office had.

Bruce clearly had no idea what you were up to, because if he did, he would've found you as you figured out how the hell to open that mysterious door that posed as a bookshelf, and would've stopped you before you could enter the elevator inside.

Perhaps he shouldn't have let an engineer and a technology prodigy alone in his most forbidden room.

Bruce clearly, most assuredly had no idea what you were up to, because if he did, he wouldn't have let you wander around his cave, eyes wide in surprise and amazement. You looked around, wondering why the fuck your boyfriend had a whole ass dungeon to yourself. So you got busy. And it didn't take much for you to understand exactly just what the fuck was happening there.

You looked through the blueprints, through the prototypes, through the endless stashes of papers. You eyed every sketch for gloves and utility belts, and confusion clouded your brain until your eyes laid on top of a cowl. A very familiar one.

Holy shit.

Your boyfriend is Batman.

And then suddenly, everything clicked into place.

The weird schedules, the missed dates, the exhaustion, the odd bruises you managed to get glimpses of.

The breakup.

It all made sense now.

And when Alfred confronted you a few minutes later, having found the secret entrance to the cave open and having quickly followed inside, you frowned and asked out loud why Bruce had hidden such a thing from you.

“I think that is something you should discuss with Master Wayne himself,” was what he’d told you, and you were quick to cradle the cowl next to you and run back upstairs.

You knocked on Bruce’s bedroom door incessantly, and for a while you thought he had gone out or abandoned you for good, but after an assertive “I know who you are”, he opened the door at the speed of light, eyes widening once he took note of the cowl tucked under your elbow.

It was an extremely awkward conversation - for him, that is.

While half of you was freaking out because your boyfriend (you refused to call him your ex. You were not breaking up with Bruce Wayne.) was the fucking Batman and he’d never told you, but the other half told you that everything wasn't always what it seemed, and that you should let him explain himself.

He did, very awkwardly. He wasn't expecting you to find out - not at all. So, this whole “you-found-out-i’m-a-masked-vigilante-after-i-broke-up-with-you” atmosphere was one he was simply not used to. And he hated it! He’d just told you a bunch of bullshit about the two of you not being able to be together - somewhat true - and he’d tried to erase you from his mind. And now you were sitting in front of him while he tried to explain everything to you.

It took a while to settle in, but once it did, it was easy to understand why he did what he did. He told you how afraid he was to lose you, should any of the criminals he fought against get a hold of any personal information on him. He told you about how it was already hard enough to trust Alfred, the man that had raised him his entire life, the man he saw as a father figure, too afraid something would happen to him. The more you knew about his double-life, the more it’d put you at risk.

Still…

You grabbed a nearby pillow and hit your boyfriend on the head repeatedly.

“You - “ HIt. “Are - “ Hit. “Such - “ Hit. “An - “ Hit. “Asshole!” Hit. “What the hell were you thinking!” You hit him once again for good measure and he removed the soft weapon from your hands, tired of being hit.

“I was thinking that I had to protect you.” Bruce said calmly. He’d be lying if he said a massive weight hadn't been lifted off his shoulders. He loved you, truly. He wanted to keep you safe and away from harm and away from him, from Batman, from the one figure that could doom your life forever. But he also trusted you and wanted to share everything that was his with you. He wanted to show you everything, to show you who he truly was and what he did and just trust you because it felt so nice to have someone like you. Someone he could trust. “You shouldn't be with someone like me, with someone that could endanger you so easily.”

“I think I can make that decision by myself,” you retorted, reaching for the pillow again. When it was clear Bruce was not relenting it to you, you scoffed and playfully pushed at his chest. “You're an idiot, Bruce. I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” It seemed like a playful remark, but Bruce could make out the sadness in his voice, and kicked himself mentally for causing it.

“How could I not love you anymore?” He asked, caressing your cheek with his hand. “You’re everything to me. That's why I was willing to let you go, so you could be happy.”

“I can’t be happy without you,” you mumbled.

“You'd learn how to. Find some nice man with no secret identities, who spent his night doing something normal like puzzles or crosswords, whose life would never put you in harm’s way.”

“Puzzles? Crosswords?”

“As long as he didn't go outside dressed like a bat, I'd be happy.”

“But I don’t want that. I want you.”

Bruce sighed and looked away, but his hand never left your face.

“You shouldn't. It’s not good for you to be with me. Hell, look at me. I'm Bruce Wayne. my whole life is under scrutiny and the public eye is merciless. How can I willingly let you be put under a microscopic lense just like I am?”

“That’s not your choice to make, Bruce, and you know it. I don’t mind. I don’t care whatever I go through, as long as I go through it with you,” you held his hand with your own, and placed a few soft kisses on his.

“Still. You just saw my cave. That's not exactly boyfriend material now, is it?”

“I’d say a sex dungeon is worse.”

This earned a chuckle out of him, and for a brief moment, he got lost in your gaze, as he often found himself getting.

“Only you could make me laugh at moments like these.”

“And I'll be here too do that for many more years to come.” You scooted over, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Just… Don’t shut me out, Bruce. I love you. We can do this together, and I'll be fine, I promise. And honestly, you don't even have much of a choice here, because you said yourself you didn't want to break up with me, so, well, there’s no real reason to do it.”

He sighed, and after a while, nodded. He was allowed to be selfish, wasn't he? To take you for himself, to allow himself the comfort of being loved.

He didn't have much of a choice, it seemed. You were intent on being with him no matter what, and despite a little voice in his head telling him that was a terrible idea, he let himself smile and agree to whatever you had to say. He always would, really.

“So you just weren't going to let me break up with you?”

“Pft,” you scoffed, kissing him softly. “I wasn't. You’re mine now, Wayne. Or should I call you Dark Knight from now on? You gonna save me or something, Batman?” You chuckled slightly and something dark flashed in Bruce’s eyes. With one swift motion, he had you pinned down to the mattress, and your giggles had evolved to full on laughter.

“Pretty cheeky, aren't we today?” He asked with a soft smirk, the one you recognised not from the tabloids and the gossip magazines, but from time spent with you. “You seem awfully into roleplay.”

“Nothing of the sort. Just wondering if having a goal such as rescuing the fine maiden would improve your performance.”

“Improve my performance, huh?”

Bruce reached down to spread your legs and slot himself in between them.

“We’ll see.”

Now that Bruce could be completely open with you, life was good.

He'd no longer come home to an empty Manor and even emptier bed, but you working on some sort of new prototype by the fireplace, or reading about some new technological advancement in bed. Such sights made his heart melt. It was all worth it. The sleepless nights, the bruises, the exhaustion. It was all worth it for you.

Your time together went by quickly, and before you noticed, you were celebrating your second year as a couple. It was a lovely celebration, quiet and private - the way you two liked - a nice dinner by the river, music, some champagne, promises of a future together, and a question to move in with him.

The answer was more than clear. You already spent a lot of time at his Manor, so moving in felt natural and comfortable. You wanted this. Wanted to move in with the love of your life, wanted to wake up to his lovely face every day, wanted to teach him how to make coffee and laugh as he gets it wrong after all this time, want to massage the knots caused from stress off his shoulders, wanted to be with him at all possible times.

Moving in was extremely fun. You had some stuff from your apartment that you simply had to keep. Old memorabilia or some furniture you were super attached to. Items and clothes and such. But aside from that, you simply sold everything else and began your life inside Wayne Manor.

It was great. It was perfect, even. Bruce still came home rather late sometimes, and he still cancelled your days ever so often, but at least you knew where he was, what he was doing. Sometimes, you’d go down to the cave and talk to him, ask him how patrol was doing through the intercoms and ask him to drive home safely. He always complied.

One night, he came home to you fiddling with some of his old grapple gun prototypes. Useless, he thought them, having only kept those for spare parts.

“What’re you doing?” Bruce asked, walking up to you as he removed his cowl.

You smiled. Seeing him in his suit did things to you - it reminded you he was the just vigilante that kept Gotham safe, risking his own life for others, of course - and you gave him a head to toe look, clearly enjoying the view.

“Working on something,” you said simply.

Your boyfriend walked up to you, looking over your latest creation. It was still his old grapple gun, and yet it looked different.

“I implemented two other grapples.” You handed him the object, crossing your arms over your chest. “Was a bit tricky, but I managed to do it. The line is strong to handle five times your body weight now, and you can use it not only to holster yourself up in the air, but also pull heavier objects towards you. What do you think?”

Bruce took the gun in his hands and examined it. It was slightly heavier, but you’d managed to keep it small and efficient. It would be of extremely good use.

“Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your head. “You're brilliant, really. What would I do without you?”

“Probably die in a ditch.”

“Probably.”

At first it was hard convincing him that it was totally okay for you to help him in his endeavours as Batman. You told him over and over again that there was nothing wrong with it. You weren't out there, you weren't actually out there, it’s not like you were in danger. No one could hurt you so long as you were in the safety of your shared home. After a few helpful tips and some upgrades on his gadgets, Bruce relented.

And it was when you began to slack off at work that he realised that something had to change. He'd find you asleep on the job, too tired from having spent the night working on some new concoction for him. You couldn't keep your eyes open during meetings, and would fall asleep during every single ride you took.

You told Bruce you were fine, of course. You'd been a college student once, and you’d survived. This was nothing. Still, your too sweet boyfriend would force you to stay home for days on end just so you could get some rest. He needed you not only safe, but also healthy, even if his demands for you to take a break were met with groans and eye rolls.

One night when you were huddled up in bed, you confided in him that you loved helping him out as Batman. It was a way for you to be involved in his life, do something nice for the city, and put your inventions to test.

That's when he came up with the idea.

It took a while for him to confess it, after all, he knew how much of a hardworking woman you were. You wouldn't simply abandon your job to help him out, now would you?

To his surprise, you did.

You loved the idea as much as him. Sure, you loved your job at Wayne Enterprises, and were extremely proud of what you had achieved so far. But you had to admit you were stretching yourself too thin. Between your job and your little side gig, you had no real time to rest and it was killing you. So, you accepted.

You handed in your resignation letter to your boss, billionaire Bruce Wayne (who smiled and spun you around in the air as he kissed you. You teased him about his lack of professionalism and he reminded you the company was his with a pat on your backside.) and headed home.

From then on, you made being Batman’s sidekick (a title he hated, really. You were much more than just a sidekick) your full-time occupation. You had your hobbies, sure, and your interests, and you went out with friends and made the most out of your life. Only this time, instead of working a 9-to-5 job at your boyfriend’s company, you remained inside his cave, crafting new objects and tools for him to use during his nightly duties.

You created an explosive gel for him, a tool he could use to blast doors down and even stun enemies with. You were quite proud of that one, laughing loudly when you heard him use it for the first time through the intercoms. All you’d heard was a loud “boom”, and Bruce’s voice muttering a husky “fuck”. That was how you knew you’d done a good job.

The Remote Control Batarang was one of your finest inventions. Bruce first asked you what he hell he needed a remote control Batarang for (he also hated the name Batarang - truly, no fun), but it proved to be useful real quickly.

“You have two men to your left, one of them has a gun, the other has a bat.” Chuckle.

“Very amusing,” Bruce whispered.

“I think it’d be a good time to try the remote control Batarang,” you said, eyes flicking between the screens in front of you. “The one with a gun seems confident, but the other one not so much. If you tackle him down, he’s sure to not put up a fight.”

“You were dying for me to use this, weren't you?”

“So much.”

You heard him remove the Batarang from his belt, and the few beeps informed you he was done setting it up. The slight woosh as the object cut through the air, and a distant man’s scream of agony was enough for you to know you’d succeeded once again.

“Now who doesn’t need a Remote Control Batarang?”

“Don’t call it that.”

“Love you too. Coast is clear though, go ahead.”

Maybe the Shock Gloves were your favourite. They were a quick and easy way for your boyfriend to stun his enemies and leave them unconscious long enough for him to do whatever he had to, while not taking their lives.

You took Bruce’s no killing rule extremely serious. While you thought some of the people that terrorised Gotham most certainly deserved a fate worse than prison, you thought it was noble of him never to take a life for himself. His moral code was commendable and something you loved about him.

And it goes without saying that after you finished the first prototype for the shock gloves, you made a smaller, daintier tool that allowed you to playfully shock people when you greeted them. Alfred was your first victim and later that evening, he cut off your hot water in retaliation. Touché.

Your freeze blasts were quite useful as well. He'd used them only a handful times, but as long as he did and they helped, that's all that matters.

Sometimes, Bruce would come home in the late hours of the night (or perhaps the early morning), and find you doubled over your desk, sketching prototypes or putting pieces together.

It warmed his heart to see you were working so hard just for him, but tugged at it because you needed sleep. You needed rest, and here you were, working away for him. Creating new “toys”, as you’d so often call them.

“What’re you still doing up?” He asked one particular night/morning, after having taken off his suit, and resting his head on the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. You sighed at the gesture - after such a tiring day,Bruce’s comfort was all you needed.

“Working,” you mumbled, fingers moving with dexterity, tugging and twisting at some cables.

“Isn't it a bit too late for you to still be working?” He replied against the skin of your shoulder.

“Isn't it a bit too late for you to be coming home?”

“I’m not working anymore though. Coming to bed.”

“Are you? Goodnight then.”

Bruce shook his head and you could feel his brown locks brushing against your skin, tickling you.

“Look at how far we’ve come. I used to be the one abandoning you in bed.”

“You're lucky I found a new hobby.”

“Hm.”

You remained in silence for a while as Bruce watched you work. He had no idea what this new contraption of yours was, but he was sure it’d be brilliant, as they all were. As you were.

“This,” you said, voice only above a whisper, as if to not distract you, “Is a remote electrical charge.”

“Interesting.” What was interesting though, was that he began pressing kisses to the column of your neck, hands wandering to your waist. “I can’t wait for you to tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Because now, we’re going to sleep.”

You scoffed.

“I have to finish this Bruce, I'm sorry.”

“You’re stubborn. So very stubborn. Why did I hire you anyway?”

You turned to face him and feigned a thoughtful expression.

“Because I'm really hot and you love me?”

“Damn it. Both of those are true.”

You chuckled and leaned in to kiss him, sighing as soon as his lips slotted against yours. You'd never get tired of kissing your boyfriend, that was for sure.

“Fine,” you mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Take me to bed, Batman.”

“No. No Batman here. With you, I'm Bruce.”

“And that's what I love the most about you.” You smiled and lifted your arms, a silent plea for him to carry you. He rolled his eyes but did so effortlessly nevertheless, happy to obey your every command. And he of course was a sucker for having you near him at all times.

“Let’s take a shower first. You reek, Batguy.”

“Whatever you say.”

Needless to say, the Remote Electrical Charge was extremely efficient.

You were the perfect pair, really.

Although you joked about being Bruce’s sidekick, you felt more like a partner, really. You'd go and make the tools, he’d go out there and use them to kick some ass. It was a perfect situation. A win-win. And you didn't mind not working at Wayne Enterprises anymore, not really. You still visited Lucius often, and, when you weren't too tired, you’d help him out with certain projects. Your ideas and skills had only gotten better after all the things you’d help build, and your former boss appreciated the effort.

You helped Bruce with pretty much everything.

Helped improve his suit, fixed his car (more than once), his motorcycle, and even made a few prototypes for other means of transportation. He’d tested everything from jetpacks, to something that weirdly resembled a rocket and a flying suit. There really was no limit to your imagination.

Your life as Bruce’s girlfriend was eventually discovered, shortly after you two moved in together, and you decided to take in a “secret” identity, just as he did. To the public, you were Bruce Wayne and his dumb girlfriend who spent her days inside his mansion, sunbathing and spending his fortune. To those who knew you better (so, like, about two or three people), you were the Caped Crusader and his inventor girlfriend.

Although that title didn't stick for long, because after a few years, Bruce asked you to marry him.

That’s when you became his inventor wife.

And that was a life you were happy to lead.

A/N: And that's it!!! I hope you guys enjoyed this! Once again, I'm so sorry to my anon. I've been super busy and tired, and I got the requests mixed up. If it helps, I really enjoyed writing this - Bruce and an engineer girlfriend who builds stuff for him sounds like a pretty cool idea.

Well then, that's all for today!!!

I hope y'all have a wonderful day ahead <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight fanfiction #nolanverse #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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reiden · 4 months

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i wanna hold the hand inside you | r.itoshi

You think of Itoshi Rin, your first love, often; the one who never was and the one who got away. Unexpectedly, you find yourself reuniting with the boy you once knew right in front of your apartment.

cw: fem!reader, reader has a habit of skin-picking, soft angst w/ happy ending, suggestive, slight hand obsession?

— ✦

You always feel uglier after you pick at your skin. Which defeats the purpose because you do it to rid yourself of an imperfection you've stumbled upon. And yet, after all is said and done and the skin has grown irritated, all you can think about is how you've only gotten uglier.

You used to pick at your face, scratching at any bumps or texture you spot in the mirror, but you've gotten better about it now. You've stopped doing it on your face altogether. It was one too many people who thought they were close enough with you to inadvertently call you ugly. You're pretty sure the first to do it had been Itoshi Sae, your neighbour two houses down. Back then, when you were only eight, you hadn't cared that he thought your habit was unbecoming. It didn't matter what Sae thought — you had Rin.

One day, you realised you didn't really have Rin either.

Since then, you've moved onto your hands.

Your face is the important part, no one ever really looks at hands. You might think about it if you were to give a handshake, but when you think of that person from memory later that day, you'll think of their face. As long as your face is left alone, it doesn't matter what happens to the skin around your nails.

But you like looking at hands. They reveal so much about someone. Whether or not they clean their nails, if they paint them, if their hands are soft or calloused — all of these things are like clues that fit together to form the bigger picture of their life. Your own hands must give away the parts of you that you would prefer to stay hidden — like the fact that you pick at your skin. Itoshi Rin has beautiful hands. His hands were pretty enough that you were glad he played a sport that relied on his legs and feet instead. You never told him that you thought so; he probably would have called you strange should he have found out.

He never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.

You pull at your skin again, pushing it down with the edge of your nail just until you feel the sharp sting of it having gone too far. It's boring at your job, nothing much to do or see. You sit on an ergonomic moving chair behind a large wooden desk, adjusting calendars and making appointments. There isn't much mystique to your job, nothing to write home about, but it gets you through life just fine. Glancing over at the time, you decide to click through and answer a few more emails in time for lunch to roll around.

In junior high, you had wanted to be an artist. You joined the art club and begged your family to let you participate in painting and sketching classes. You kept sketchbook after sketchbook filled with doodles and things — mostly of hands. It's been a long running obsession of yours. You used to draw faces but ever since you stopped messing with your face, your drawings of them phased out too.

In senior high, a teacher told you that artists don't make money from drawing hands all day. It irked you enough that you let go of that dream. You wanted to become a nail technician, you decided. The day you changed your dream, you went to tell the only person you considered close enough to tell; you went to tell Rin. It was that day that you had to come to the startling realisation that your best friend didn't seem to consider you much of a friend anymore. You spent all of your lunch break looking for him, only to find him practising at the field behind your school. When you called out to him, he ignored you. He stopped answering your texts too. You discarded the sliver of hope you had kept safe within your chest — the very thing that made you believe you would get Rin back soon. Something had changed in him and you didn't know what because he never told you.

(Because he never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.)

You found other friends. Rin always seemed to be alone. He pulled out of school for a football program a week later, and you decided to give up on becoming a nail technician.

There's a soft beep that rings out from your phone — just one singular chime at the lowest volume you set on your first day on the job — when it's time for your lunch break. You always take it at the same tonkatsu shop seven minutes away from your place of work.

Today, it takes you ten minutes to get there because the heels you've chosen to wear are new ones; you haven't broken them in yet. You bought them for a date that you never ended up going to. Guilt over standing them up had consumed you but you just couldn't muster up the courage to go. You were all too aware of the fact that some pathetic part of you was still clinging onto a boy you haven't seen for a long time.

You remember the brush of the wind through his fringe, the sharp determined glint in his emerald eyes. You still hold onto the way his name once had a home at the tip of your tongue. Even as the years pass, Itoshi Rin digs his teeth into your skin and remains with you; parasitic and tormenting.

You ease yourself into the table in the corner and make your order, scrolling through your phone while you wait. Your feed is full of recent news, some things you understand and others you're not quite sure you get. Rin is there too, mixed in between all the posts about celebrities and new dramas. You were always bad at watching football. You were bad with most sports, they could never keep your interest for long, but you tried for Rin's sake. When the both of you were younger, you'd sit on the grass at the park and watch Rin run through the drills he'd seen his brother do earlier.

As you stare at the pictures of him standing on the pitch, stadium lights spilling down on him, you can't help but feel proud. Sweat glistens along his hairline, his hair still cut in the same way he used to have it when you knew him. The captain's armband is stretched tight around his bicep as his arm curls to hold up a trophy.

The swell in your chest comes with an ache you've never learned to get rid of. This ache that's ever-present, always there like a guest you can't seem to send home. It had only been a small sting when your friendship with Rin fully fell apart, but it grew tenfold when you realised you were in love with him. You pick at your skin again, the same place from earlier. Pain blooms at your fingertip but you choose to ignore it as you scroll past the pictures; your heart squeezes and shudders against your will, even after all these years.

The day inches past, sweat gathers along the nape of your neck. You leave the building at five precisely, stagger into the subway station at half past five, and sink into a navy blue seat at a quarter to six. The backs of your brand new heels dig into your ankles and you're certain there will be blisters when you yank them off at home.

Even still, your day has been a good one. Despite the fact that your mother had called and urged you to visit home; despite today marking the anniversary you first met Itoshi Rin; despite the way your heart always sinks at the realisation that you still remember the significance of what should be another meaningless day. Despite it all, it had been good and you stare at the passerby walking along the platform, head pressed against the cool window.

(You wonder about Rin once more, like you always do. You wonder if he's walking amongst a crowd this evening, perhaps something fried in his hand, keeping his palm warm. Maybe he's holding a drink instead — lukewarm green tea. In another world, it might have been your hand.)

The train shakes to a start, rocking you from side to side and it becomes impossible to keep yourself awake. You drift off to the memory of a boy you once knew.

You're sure you're bleeding. The skin around your index nail is irritated, throbbing with a dull pain. Similarly, there's a sting — a quick flash of something white hot up your left calf — whenever you take a step. Your blister must have turned into a cut.

Your soles scrape against the road, shoulders loose and hunched forward as you meander your way home. The sun has set, disappearing into the skyline in the distance as the sky grows darker and the wind picks up. Streetlights have flickered to life and you pass by a salon still packed with customers, women resting against soft cushions as they converse. You roll your neck from side to side, attempting to release some of the tension that has gathered along your muscles from staying seated almost all day, fingers loosely wrapped around the straps of your bag.

Eyes trained on the fading white marks beneath your feet, you turn the corner into the alleyway you apartment building sits in. There's a crunch of someone taking a step towards you, and then — the call of your name, familiar, wrapped up in the gravelly tone of a voice too rough to belong to the boy you once knew. But you know it's him, anyway.

"Rin?" you tilt your head to the side, scanning over his features as he stands against the sunlight, soft shadows marking his pale skin. He remains silent, almost stunned as he stands across from you, so you speak again, "It's been a while."

He doesn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch in a way that suggests one. Rin is wearing a dark windbreaker, hands stuffed into its pockets. There's a loose thread hanging off the cuff around his wrist, a tiny rip of the outer fabric revealing the slight grey beneath. He clears his throat, "Yes, it has been." There's a pause then, neither of you willing to bridge the gap in conversation as the exhaust fans whir quietly.

"How have you been?" Rin asks, taking a step towards you. You can smell him now, flowery and sweet; its lavender, which is what you had remembered him as. In a way, it comforts you — some things will stay the same and stand the test of time, no matter how many years have inched by.

“I’ve been good,” you hum. Truthfully, you haven’t quite been good in a long time. You’ve been alright, you’ve made it from day to day, you pay your bills on time and you see your friends every other weekend; but it’s not good — it's just alright. You don’t think Rin needs to hear that, not after how long it has been since you last heard his voice following after your own.

It's strange to think about how his mother knows your name and your face, knows that you like lemonade with some raspberry in it; how Rin was there to witness the way you got every fading scar on your arms and legs. Standing before him now, you don't even know what his apartment might look like. Your lives, which were once so intricately intertwined, have unravelled and diverged to the point of obscurity.

You've given him the room to say something, continue the conversation or choose to end it, but Rin is quiet as he takes you in. His brows are furrowed, just a shaky line above his dark eyes as watches you fidget and begin to grow uncomfortable under the weight of stare.

This silence is far too heavy of a burden for you to shoulder, so you cut through with a question that seems a bit out of place now. "What are you doing here?"

Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was previously in, "I was out on a walk — wandering around, I guess." Rin shuffles even closer and the wind billows, rustling the fabric of his windbreaker. You watch his hair flutter and fall against his forehead.

"I would have thought that you'd be busy all the time, seeing as you're a celebrity now," you say with a soft laugh, twisting the ends of your coat between your fingers while your bag swings gently from side to side in your other hand.

He doesn't seem to like that, gaze sharpening just a bit as his mouth curves into a frown. You chew on your bottom lip, feeling a bottomless pit open up inside of your stomach at the realisation that it's become so much harder to talk to the boy who used to be your best friend. (To talk to the boy who you used to love — who you are willing to love once again.)

It's getting colder as the remaining tendrils of sun slowly disappear, hiding away to make room for the moon to shine. You nod at your apartment, "Would you...like to come inside?" You expect him to say no, after all, the two of you are no longer the people you remember each other to be.

Surprisingly, Rin perks up at your question, firmly nodding once. He follows after you as you walk over to your front door, fishing around the front pocket of your bag for your keys. Rin stands a hair's width away from you, his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and goosebumps ripple down your arms.

You watch him study your home, scrutinising your choice of decor — the small pictures framed on the walls, magazines and books strewn about — as he takes off his shoes. He seems to be drawn to the picture resting on one of your shelves: it's of you and him, years ago, standing next to each other with smiles full of missing teeth that look more like grimaces. You were hoping he wouldn't notice that one, one of the only pictures you've kept of and from your childhood, but you can't blame him for it either. Had it been you, that picture would have been the first one you noticed too.

"You kept this?" he's nearly whispering as he gently takes the ageing framed photo in his hands.

You rest your bag on the floor, "Yeah. Mom gave it to me right before I moved out." He turns back to look at you and his next words are unspoken, but still so loud.

You hadn't just kept it — you framed it, placed it in your living room for everyone to see. His expression crumbles momentarily, a quiet admission of guilt that settles in the short distance between you. Rin must not have kept much of you with him. He never says it outright, but you know better. Maybe that should leave you feeling bitter but it's somehow exactly what you expected of him.

Has Itoshi Rin changed at all from the last time you saw him? Do you just know him too well?

Dusting off your clothes, you take a deep breath, "It's getting late. Want dinner?"

Rin agrees. Like you were expecting him to.

You've never liked beer.

But you find yourself peering into a glass full of it as Rin settles in across from you. You're still in your work attire, the waistband of your skirt digging into your stomach after your full meal. Rin's left his windbreaker in a crumpled heap of fabric beside his chair, the tip of his finger drawing lines in the condensation forming on his glass. His nails are well-groomed, cut short and clean. They might be better than yours, but that’s because Rin doesn’t pick at his skin like you do. You stare until you think you shouldn’t anymore.

He hasn't gotten up to leave. You haven't kicked him out.

Resting your cheek against your fist, you push yourself forward, closer to him. Your slight movement draws his attention away from the glass, Rin looks up at you as his frown eases up.

"It's strange seeing you," you admit, more open to honesty thanks to your slight state of inebriation. "Strange seeing you after so many years."

"You have that picture," he scoffs, jerking his head in the vague direction of the picture of the two of you as kids.

Scrunching up your nose, you lean back against the chair, "Yeah, but you don't look like that anymore. You're taller and you have too many teeth." You take a sip of your beer, feeling it fizz against your top lip, "And you're probably meaner now."

He startles, looks offended when he throws back whatever's left in his glass. "I'm not mean."

You raise a brow, "You were already pretty mean when you left me." You shock yourself at how easily the words slipped past your lips, how little hesitation there was. How you still sounded so hurt over it all despite having spent years convincing yourself that you didn't miss him. The treacherous muscle beating within your ribcage twists and shakes. It only takes a moment for understanding to soften the glare Rin is giving you. Reaching over, you grab the can of beer to refill his glass, cursing under your breath when you realise it's empty. "I'll get some more — just wait."

You dig around in your refrigerator and you can feel Rin watching. "You're bleeding," he says.

"It's nothing," you wave him off, returning with another cold can.

He shakes his head, "Do you have bandages?"

And so you find yourself with your chest pressed against the cushions of your couch, ankles hanging off the edge. You spare Rin a glance over your shoulder, awkwardness leaving you silent and rigid. He's kneeling beside you, holding two bandages he insisted he get for you from the years old first aid kit stashed away in your medicine cabinet.

"You don't have to do this you know," you mumble, pinching at the inside of your cheek with your teeth. "I could have done it myself."

Rin gently grabs your ankle, his fingers are cold enough to make you jolt. "It's fine," he brushes off your words with nothing more than a grumble. "This could get infected," he adds on as he places the band-aid over the cut.

His hands are on you, fingers wrapped around your ankle almost completely. He skims them over your skin and you suppress a shiver. You think you should tell him that his hands are pretty — that they have always been pretty — but you bite your tongue.

Your cuts don't hurt as much as they had earlier, and the blood surrounding them has dried down. You're sure nothing would have come of it being left uncovered, but Rin seems adamant on doing this simple task for you. You wonder if part of it has anything to do with being labelled as "mean."

He shuffles over to your other ankle, jeans brushing against your rug, as does the same thing. It's been too long since you've been taken care of like this — the feeling has become wholly foreign and you struggle to sit still while Rin smooths out the band-aid over your skin. When he stands up, you twist around and slouch your back against the couch, facing him.

Rin looms over you. He brushes some hair out of his eyes and sits down next to you. "I'm on a break — I'll be around a lot more."

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, "Around to see me?"

And perhaps, you're imagining it, the way he moves closer so that his thigh is pushed up against it. Perhaps, you're imagining how he's leaned into you. Rin's temple makes contact with your shoulder and you exhale.

"Yes," he whispers, looking up at you through his lashes." To see you." You can recognise the guilt swimming in his gaze, leftover from earlier in the evening.

You wish he would just say it — say sorry — but your heart yearns for him regardless of what he's said and what he should have said. It's ridiculous; it was years ago and you should have moved on. (And you know that the only reason it hurt as badly as it did was the fact that you had loved him twice as much when things soured.) You're motivated by the ache you've grown accustomed to when you bring your hand to his hair, digging your fingers in, scratching at his scalp. Much like a cat, Rin goes limp against you and you trace the side of his face with the pad of your thumb.

You try to hide your other hand, feeling somewhat self-conscious about the way you’ve torn it up. Rin reaches for it without a second thought, lacing his fingers together with your own, oblivious to all the rough parts you’ve left behind with your habit.

"What if I don't want to see you?" you question. You don't really mean it — you hope he knows.

You can feel his breath, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he speaks, "I would wait until you said you wanted to."

"Even if that took years?" You pause your movements, hand still in his hair. Rin draws a gasp out from you when he presses a fluttering kiss against your wrist — a nervous kiss, one that tests the waters.

"Even then," he says.

You don't know who leans in first, you want to say it's Rin but you, with your years of yearning, are not to be trusted either. His cold palms cup your face, lips parting against your own, his tongue meeting yours. He kisses you hungrily, eagerly, desperate to make up for years of lost time and memories that were meant to be shared by two but left to be held by just one instead. It almost hurts — when his teeth sink into your lip and you whimper, Rin snaps his eyes open. He licks over where he bit, fingers digging into your cheeks.

You like the feeling of his hands on you. You want them everywhere, you decide. Rin tugs at your collar, unbuttons your shirt quickly, his hands splayed out over your sides and just grazing your bra. It's only then that you pull away, chest heaving as you stare up at him.

"Will you discard me again?" Your voice sounds almost meek in a way; you're afraid of what he might say and of what you might see. Too scared to see him hesitate, too scared to meet his eyes and not see yourself reflected in them.

But Rin's answer is instantaneous. His gaze has darkened some, lust-blown and riddled with the yearning that's been growing in your chest for years. His palm encircles your wrist, the other wraps around your waist chasing purchase. "Never," he says with a kind of conviction that leaves butterflies erupting at your fingertips.

While his hand travels up your back, he kisses you again and this time it feels different. He moves up your wrist, intertwining your fingers once more. You know you have him in all the ways that he has you.

#itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #wr.iting

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 10 months

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taedros tresdros

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part one: taedros taedros ☆ part two: taedros twodros wc: 2.2k reader: afab reader (pretty sure no specific gender mentioned but putting this disclaimer just in case!) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also some angst and some fluff :) summary: uh-oh... you fell for your best friend taerae. but was it all in vain after he's ghosted you the past two weeks? *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ITS DONEEE! you will notice i've went with "taedros tresdros" for the title. decided to keep all three parts with taedros as the first word lol. this is the finale for this little series and i really hope you like this ending i've made lol. i am so happy you've all enjoyed taedros taedros -- stay tuned for more works soon (hopefully) xx

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warnings: 18+ explicit smut, fingering and oral (reader receiving), cumming in pants, eavesdropping/voyeurism by reader but it's only out of shock/anger, swearing, lots of innuendo in this one lmao... i think that's it!

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“so, the ring finger goes here?” you hear a feminine voice ask; ear pressed gently to taerae’s door to hear better. just a few moments ago, you’d been taking deep, steadying breaths as you walked through the entrance to your best friend’s dorm building on your way to finally confront him.

something that was so familiar now made your heart race with anxiety.

but when you’d rounded the corner to taerae’s room, you were surprised to find the door shut almost all the way. usually taerae left his door wide open, even when he was playing the guitar or getting changed or sleeping. in fact, his dorm-mates told you one night when you were leaving that the only time taerae made an effort to close it was when you were over... you couldn’t hear any noise coming from his room, which made you all the more curious as to what was going on in there.

walking up to his door, you’d seen it was propped open just a bit by one of taerae’s shoes. you couldn’t see through the gap in the door, but you’d heard quiet murmurings from inside and gently placed your ear to the door to listen closer. the sound of a girl’s voice had completely shocked you. especially considering what you’d come here to talk about with taerae.

“yeah, it might take a bit to find the sweet spot,” taerae answers with a chuckle; his answer causing your jaw to drop. fingers? sweet spots? what the fuck is going on in there!?

“mmm, thank you again for teaching me, taerae,” the voice responds. upon closer listening, you realize you know this voice. it belongs to your world history classmate, jinah-- the girl who sits behind you and doodles the entire period. she’s very nice-- pretty and athletic, too, but...

you didn’t really think taerae was her type.

you hadn’t spoken to taerae much in the last couple weeks. ever since you’d actually slept together... things had changed. it felt like your best friend was avoiding you. when you’d texted to ask about movie night the past two fridays, taerae had said he was busy with homework both times. normally taerae would meet you for lunch in the student union every other day in between his music theory class, but he hadn’t come by since then. he’d barely said two words to you at choir practice last night.

was this why? he’d decided he liked jinah instead? he couldn’t face you after... using you?

taerae would never do that. not to you. probably not to anyone.

then again, you’d never talked about whether what was going on between you was exclusive or not. and what it meant to you; what he meant to you. had you completely misinterpreted this whole situation?

“and the middle finger...” jinah trails off and the mental picture you have unfortunately painted in your head of the scene taking place is enough to make you gag.

“that one’s gonna reach as far up as possible,” taerae explains. if you had known your best friend was offering masturbation classes out of his dorm room, you probably would’ve been more careful about where you were sitting on his bed.

“i don’t think i can reach that far,” jinah huffs with a frustrated sigh. “it kind of hurts.”

“relax,” taerae soothes. “it’ll feel better if you relax.”

your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sound of the audible gasp that escapes you, but your elbow hitting the door blows your cover. you stand up quickly as taerae’s door swings open-- revealing you in the doorway to taerae and jinah.

... and revealing jinah sitting on taerae’s bed and holding a guitar (quite clumsily, if you may be so brazen) in her hands; taerae sitting next to her and seemingly offering some sort of instruction.

“you--...” you stutter, surprised and also incredibly relieved to find that the lessons taerae was giving were much more wholesome than you’d been forced to imagine for the past few minutes. “oh thank fuck holy shit.”

as the uncontrollable string of grateful curse words leaves your mouth, jinah clears her throat awkwardly and stands up; removing the guitar strap from around her neck and handing the instrument to its owner.

“sorry for interrupting,” you mumble, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as taerae glares at you.

“no, it’s okay! i have to finish an essay for tomorrow anyway,” jinah replies, picking up her bag and walking towards the door. you step to the side for her to get by, awkwardly smiling as she calls behind her, “thank you, taerae! see you next week!”

jinah retreats down the hallway, leaving just you and taerae alone in a tense silence.

“what are you doing here?” taerae asks, rather unceremoniously. “it’s a thursday night. you have tutoring on thursday nights. that's why we have movie night on fridays.”

you nod, still leaning against the doorframe. “my last appointment cancelled so i--... i wanted to come talk to you.”

“oh,” taerae replies with a nod. “okay.”

you frown. “okay?”

“yeah,” he says, looking down at his guitar in his hands; starting to strum it lightly. “okay.”

your eyebrows raise in shock as your best friend seemingly shrugs you off. you walk over to him and snatch the guitar from his hands by its neck.

“HEY!” he protests as you bring the instrument over to its stand and place it there annoyedly (but carefully; you’re not an asshole). “i was playing that.”

“what the fuck is the matter with you!?” you snap, turning back around to face him. “you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks!”

taerae visibly gulps; eyes falling to the floor.

“and this is how you’re gonna act?” you scold, folding your arms across your chest. “after we...”

for some reason you’re unable to say it. taerae is silent-- seemingly holding his breath as he waits for you to continue. coward.

“i came here to talk to you about everything and--... and then i heard you through the door giving jinah a fucking guitar lesson,” you explain while rolling your eyes. “better than the lesson i thought you were giving her, but...”

taerae looks up at you now; brow furrowed as his head tilts to the side confusedly. “w--... what kind of a lesson did you think i was giving her?”

you blink back at him; unsure of whether to tell the truth or not. but taerae catches on before you can commit to a lie.

his jaw drops in shock. “you thought--... did you think--”

you look down at your feet: embarrassed, anxious, and just plain sad after the events of the last couple weeks. this mixture of emotions forms a lump in your throat that you are now hopelessly trying to suppress. “i’m really sorry for interrupting. and for listening a bit. i just don't know what happened. i thought we were--... i thought you felt the same way that i did, but... you just must be really upset with me and i don’t know what i did but i’m so sorry and i really miss you so i wanted to talk to you and i just was... i dunno, i thought--”

taerae cuts off your rambling by standing up and wrapping his arms around you tightly. against your neck, he soothes, “ssh, baby. it’s okay-- it’s all okay. i promise.”

“i like you,” you confess into taerae’s sweatshirt. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know this would happen. but i really like you, tae.”

"fuck-- i like you, too. of course i like you, too,” he says, pulling back to look at you. “and this is all my fault.”

you sniffle as you ask, “what did you do this time?”

“something really, really stupid,” he replies with a sad smile.

mirroring his expression, you quip, “what else is new?”

“yeah, yeah,” he accepts with a laugh. cupping your cheek in his hand, he runs his thumb across the skin sweetly. “i thought i was the one who fucked up... by falling for you.”

“... oh,” is all you can manage to say.

“oh is right,” he says, leaning in and kissing your lips gently. “i honestly wasn’t sure what to do about it. i didn’t want to hurt you and i thought maybe just... avoiding you for a bit would make it easier for me to stop having feelings for you. but it didn’t. it just hurt you and me more-- and it was really immature. i’m so sorry.”

you wrap your arms around his neck, having forgiven your idiot of a best friend before he even apologized. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you more,” taerae says, peppering your cheeks with kisses. you giggle; taerae grinning before attaching his lips to yours again.

“but, um,” you say quickly, pulling back to meet his gaze. “i’d love to put in a request for no more guitar lessons with the door closed, if the suggestion box is still open.”

“it is,” taerae says with a laugh. “suggestion accepted, approved and implemented.”

“and, uh, maybe they don’t have to take place on your bed,” you say, biting your bottom lip and hiding your face in his chest.

“i will have you know my conduct is strictly professional at all times,” taerae replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “but you’re completely right. not to mention, it was probably rude of me to let her sit on my bed... without telling her what it’s covered in.”

“TAERAE-YA!” you shout, hitting his chest as he pulls you toward his bed-- pushing you down gently onto the mattress and climbing between your legs with ease. “you do wash your sheets, don’t you?”

he just laughs.

“tae, that’s gross,” you reply, shaking your head as he cups your center over your jeans. your protesting starts to waiver as he applies more pressure to where you need him most. “you--... you really should--”

“enough, enough, baby-- of course i wash them,” he replies, hooking his fingers around the belt loops of your jeans and shimmying them along with your underwear down your legs before discarding them on the floor. then he smirks at you, adding, “but sometimes i do wonder what the point is when you’re just gonna get them dirty again.”

“fuck,” you whine as taerae admires you. he’s licking his lips like he hasn’t eaten in days-- and he hasn’t. you wonder how he’s survived this long without you.

“so,” he says, starting to circle your clit with two fingers. his rhythm isn’t steady though; it’s intoxicatingly teasing. “what did you think i was teaching in these ‘lessons’?”

you feel your face heat up again at the mention of your faux pas. “don’t make fun of me.”

“never, baby,” he says; a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “i’m just curious what you think i’m enough of an expert in to be qualified to teach.”

“i--... oh my god,” you say, shaking your head with embarrassment. “i thought you were teaching her how to finger herself!"

“hmm, i guess i can understand the confusion,” taerae runs his fingers through your folds, gathering some of your slick and painting it across your stomach. “since playing guitar requires so much skill with your fingers.”

“shut up,” you reply, pouting at him.

“no, really,” he insists with a nod. as he pushes his middle finger into you gently, you gasp at the sensation. “like, to play a chord; each of your fingers needs to hold down the correct string and in the correct spot. like, to play a d chord for example.”

taerae strokes up into your walls with his middle finger, causing you to whimper. “see this middle finger needs to be on that ‘high e’ string. and then the ring finger...”

plunging another finger into you, your hand reaches to grab onto taerae to steady yourself. he smiles at you, pressing both fingers firmly against your walls now. “will sit nicely on that ‘b’ string right here.”

as he works his fingers against your walls lazily, you whine-- desperate for more friction and soon. your prayers are answered when taerae inserts a third finger, stretching you carefully until he’s able to push it all the way in.

“and finally, the index finger is going to go...” he laughs lightly before pushing his index finger into the spongy, firm spot in your walls that only he has ever been able to find. as you cry out in pleasure, taerae presses kisses to your thighs. “you might’ve guessed, but that one’s on the ‘g’ string. and listen to that beautiful sound it's making.”

“did you--... did you plan that g-spot joke?” you ask breathlessly in between pleading moans as taerae picks up the pace of his fingers. “you’re the--*hic!*... worst person i know.”

the little hiccup from pleasure that separates your insult sends taerae reeling. “fucking perfect, huh? every inch of you.”

“baby, please,” you beg, self-control low after two weeks without taerae. “wanna cum. please, wanna cum for you.”

taerae moans and, from the way he’s looking at you, you know he’s just as desperate as you are. he falls to his stomach now between your legs as he says, “was gonna try to... keep my mouth off of you. show you i really like you. you-- not just your pussy but...”

“fuck it,” you both say at the same time.

lips attaching to your clit, taerae wastes no time in pushing you closer to the edge as he laps, sucks, eats at you-- one leg of yours hooked over his back as he continues to work you with his left hand.

“tae,” you whimper, hands in his hair as you grind your hips into his touch. “g’nna cum... please, gonna cum.”

taerae whines and, with the state you’re in, you don’t even notice how feverishly he’s grinding into the bed. he switches to sucking, lips tugging perfectly on your clit and it’s all over for you.

“fuck, i--... i--... m’cumming,” you moan, taerae’s name falling from your lips a few dozen times as you come down from your high. “oh my god.”

taerae is noticeably quiet; removing his fingers from inside of you, he laps at the juices that drip out of you with his eyes closed. you know he really likes you... but it’s very possible he likes your pussy just as much. you’re not complaining.

“tae,” you call sweetly, sitting up on your elbows. “baby? come here-- want you to fuck me.”

he opens his eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits up a bit. “um... so, about that.”

his gaze trails down to the crotch of his jeans and you follow it to find a nice, big wet spot soaking through the denim.

“are you serious!?” you whine in frustration; sighing as taerae smiles at you sheepishly.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes with a cute little pout. “will you forgive me if i say it’s because you’re just too hot?”

you roll your eyes-- grinning at him. “i’ll consider it.”

“thank god, because i think i can probably make it up to you...” he says, sitting up and grabbing your jeans from the floor. “after some dinner.”

you laugh. “are you asking me out?”

“i totally am,” he answers with a smile.

“you’re sure you’re not too... full?” you joke, grabbing his hand in yours. “you did just eat.”

taerae shakes his head, smirking at you:

“trust me-- i’m never full when i’m with you.”

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donelywell · 4 months

Note

You mentioned in the Robotnik Land post that Robotnik and Sonic seem friendly with each other in the road trip AU, any doodles of what these interactions look like ?

Absolutely loving the road trip AU so far btw !!!

Thank you!!

Have a little snip bit of the interaction Sonic and Robotnik had when they meet in person again for the first time in a few years and the man spotted Sonic absolutely being a dad towards Tails.

Plus an idea for their backstory kinda that I'm kinda still rolling around in my head. (it's under the cut)

Years ago, back when Sonic was 12 and Mighty was 13 (and little Ray wasn't even a year old yet), their home island got destroyed by something (I'm not too sure yet) with those 3 being the only survivors left. Robotnik came to the island often to study the unique wildlife there, but instead found 3 kids scared and alone on a destroyed island. He took them in, helped them recover from the trauma, gave them (Mighty and Sonic, Ray is wayyy too young to do anything) jobs to help run the theme park, and went above and beyond for them.

Sonic however was very distant, he didn't want anything from Robotnik. The incident hit him hard, and he tried to bury it. After the incident, he found it hard to speak sometimes… like his voice was trapped back on the island for no one to hear it. The hedgefox form became affected by his hidden issues, becoming more feral, leaving scars of claw marks on Robotniks hand and arm when he tried to help. Eventually though, Sonic did accept Robotniks help, and slowly recovered.

Robotnik and Sonic bickered a lot, but it was playful. It's their way of showing that they care for the other. Once Sonic left (he didn't stay for very long), the two would send messages to each other, to keep tabs on one another (and to help Sonic recover more). Robotnik became somewhat of a familial figure to Sonic, he's not sure what to call him, so he'll just call him Eggman instead.

#roadtrip!sonic au #sonic the hedgehog #dadnic #dr robotnik #dr eggman

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byhees · 1 year

Text

high-school boyfriend.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 1700 genre fluff established relationship high school au warnings not proof-read kissing skinship petnames mention of food, rain — more

a/n. revamped version ><

heeseung

even though you both aren’t in the same classes, he’d always try to spend as much time as possible with you; would often offer to walk you to your classes, despite his own being on the other end of campus; would walk you to and from school, even going as far as to take your usual bus to accompany you home— he’d be more than willing to take a detour, or four, for you; while walking you two might even take a break, and grab a few street snacks from nearby stalls.

if it were to rain, he’d tag along with you on your bus trip, wanting to keep you company— and to shield you from the downpour, because you had a tendency to forget your umbrella; playing little games with one another, because what better way to pass time than to carry out a raindrop race? “i bet two dollars that that raindrop will pass the finish line first”, and you’d be met with a, “hah, you’re so on. my bet’s on that one”; gawking at the window with such anticipation and excitement, unintentionally making brief eye contact with passers-by.

him draping his school blazer over your shoulders, so that you’d be warm in the midst of the chilly rain; “what’re you—“, and in an instant, he’d cut you off with, “nope, nope, no protests, baby”.

would purposely bump into you in hallways, just so he can say, “oh wow! not even fate can separate us from one another, babe”.

jongseong

a little bit clumsy and forgetful, but he’s got the spirit! the type to go “huh, we had homework?” right before the teacher enters the classroom; being the very loving, amazing, stunning girlfriend that you are, you’d give him gentle reminders of the upcoming examinations and assignments.

little ‘tutoring’ sessions in the library; well, if you could consider giggling over absolutely nothing and doodling random animals on the side of your workbooks, tutoring?

would proudly show off his little bento boxes after every cooking club session; “look, babe! this is what we made earlier today, pretty cool, aye?”; and when you happen to forget your lunchbox, he’d scoot over to you, offering you half of his metal tiffin with a small smile. “good thing i made extras this morning! want a bite? i even got your favourites!”; is willing to give you his portion in a heartbeat. “don’t worry about me! i can manage, y’know? it’s more important that you’re well fed! after all, you’ll be busy later on, right bubs?”

jaeyun

given his love for maths, he would definitely have some liking towards little math-related pickup lines— in fact, he would’ve went out of his way to search ‘lines to absolutely blow my girlfriend away with my charms’; funny thing is that you’d actually get flustered over them.. one example would be the infamous 128 √e980 question; he’d ask you, in a very inconspicuous way, to solve it, no explanations given— and when you gaze at him with full-blown confusion, he’d cover half the expression, the words ‘i love you’ staring back at you.

the type to create weird code-names for practically everyone— shares it with you, and only you, because he likes the specialness of it; it’s a unique little way of communication that you two have.

would buy an extra portion of his usual sandwich, and leave it by your tabletop; “breakfast is very important, babe. can’t leave it out, m’kay?” he’d say, draping an arm around your shoulder to pull you close to his side.

would plant little kisses on your cheek before parting for class; “don’t miss me too much, baby!” he’d chime, a cheeky smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

sunghoon

would, very coincidentally, forget his textbooks nearly every day; he’d often come up to you with a pair of pleading doe eyes, and go, “babe..? i kinda need to borrow that calculus book again..”— it genuinely leaves you wondering if he comes to school empty-handed; whenever he hands the book back to you, he’d always mention one page in particular— “make sure you flip to page 233, okay?”; every time you do so, you wind up seeing a piece of folded-up paper tucked between the pages. unfolding it, it’d read something like ‘i love you my little mcmuffin’, or ‘it seems that you get impossibly more beautiful every single day’. alternatively, he’d do something like a post-it puzzle, where each post-it would be a part of a big picture.

would doodle little drawings on the corners of your notebooks; it might be a small portrait of you, it might also be a shaky drawing of shrek, you never know.

loves giving you his hoodies because he finds that you look really endearing in his oversized clothes; a bonus if his name is embroidered in the corner of the outerwear— never fails to bring a little smile to his face.

sunoo

would be a little more shy in terms of his expressions of love; definitely the type to buy subtle matching accessories, like rings or bracelets, because he thinks that they’re pretty cute— gets ones that he thinks would compliment you the best.

has a whole candy, or chocolate, supply in the front pocket of his backpack, because he knows that you love snacking on little snacks when stressed; slides it on your table with a small smile— “here… for you, love”, and you’d simply melt right then and there.

the type to embrace you from behind, and nuzzle his nose into the nape of your neck, a bashful grin playing on the corners of his lips; “good luck for your exam, love”, he’d mumble, eliciting a soft giggle from you.

jungwon

is so, so clingy; practically misses you 24/7, without fail. and he isn’t one to hide this, despite being in the middle of a class— in fact, he’s so criminally unsubtle with it as well; he’d be staring at your direction for ten minutes straight, clearly standing out from the rest of the class, whose heads are turned to face the whiteboard; gets caught by the teacher, and makes excuses like “oh, there’s a gigantic bee near the window”; would shamelessly pass notes to you in class— whispers to his seat partners to “give it to yn, please”. they’d probably say ‘i miss you so much, i can’t even concentrate’, or something along the lines of ‘were you formed by water eroding rocks over billions of years? because you are GORGE-ous’.

shares his earphones with you during lunch, or when you both are waiting for a bus by the bus stop; makes cute little playlists for you— titles them as words that remind him of you, like ‘pretty’.

has a habit of linking arms with you; being little menaces and walking down the hallways that way— “i’ll walk you to literature, how about that?” he’d ask, flashing a sweet smile, dimples making an appearance.

riki

loves to bother you like it’s his favourite pastime; is seated right behind you in nearly every class, and so, he has the very amazing privilege to tease and bother you infinitely; “hey babe,” he’d lean forward, tapping you on your shoulder. following which, he’d tilt his head, leaning close to reduce the proximity between your faces. he’d then whisper into your ear, “wingardium leviosa”— and he’d just shuffle back to his seat, as though nothing had happened.

likes stealing your stationery, because he lowkey finds that irritated pout of yours, adorable; purposely holds it high up above his head, arm outstretching towards the ceiling, because he’s well aware of your height difference— another point to tease you with.

has a habit of planting soft kisses on your forehead— loves the way the corners of your eyes crinkle, and the way your lips curve up in the wake of a grin; loves resting his head on your shoulder because it makes him feel at ease.

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

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kimsmuse · 1 year

Text

yandere childhood friend ♡ !!

gender neutral!reader. 1.7k words. warnings for irrational obsession for the reader. i'm not sure what it is but the guy is very, very delusional. i'm not sure what to think of this piece, but this one goes out for 🤏🍷anon, i loved the yandere drummer you drew so much so i hope you like this :) !!

“here,” you bring the flower to his face but he’s still annoyed. lately, he’s annoyed by almost everything, was teenage so bad? you wouldn’t know yet. your best friend is almost 2 years older than you and only holds the position because you've been practically be forced to get along with each other, courtesy of your family being great friends.

he scrunches up his face. “i'm allergic, you should know that.” he responds, not even looking up from his homework. “make me a paper bouquet, then we’ll see.”

the first time you realized that you liked your bestfriend was the first time that he realized that romance was not his cup of tea and with you? no way in hell. he hated the idea of cheesy romcoms and pop songs, it disgusted him and he made a point of making it obvious.

but you were young, just about 12 or something, and he was the only one close enough to fantasise about, so you did - doodled hearts around his initials and yours, “2gether 4ever ♡” and made it so obvious to the adults around you that they often teased you about it, much to your friend’s dismay.

and the crush was so strong that the moment you went home, you were on youtube, looking for ways to make a paper flower, and then piecing it all together.

“bed time, now,” your mother calls out and you proudly show off your paper bouquet to her, “is that for him?” she asks, amused at your efforts to be seen by your crush. you nod.

“aw, baby, as much as i love his mother as my bestfriend, that kid doesn’t deserve you,” she kisses your forehead.

yes, there were times when it felt like your heart was breaking into pieces or however those songs called it, when you saw him around school hanging out with other girls and not even acknowledging your presence. but when you went home and he excitedly told you about the new game he was playing, you fell all over again. besides, this is what happened in the music videos, right? there will be a day when he sees you like that too, when he’ll be long over this phase of shouting “ew, ew, ew,” when his parents kiss and be a more mature guy.

you did think that. but it was always in such a future tense that it never seemed realistic enough, it seemed far, far away. and when you actually reached that time period, your family had to move away, dad got a job somewhere else.

so you left that paper bouquet, (which quite frankly you didn’t have the courage to give it to him in fear that he might mock you that he told you to make it for him and you did? what a fool…) and a letter detailing your feelings for him.

but obviously it didn’t hold much depth, as you can imagine, a preteen detailing their infatuation.

but long after you were gone, your friend started to do something which he never thought he would do, ever. he was missing you.

he missed you when he came home from school and there was no one to talk to, or no one to taunt about how much he hated a particular thing and not have you judge him. it was just so awesome on how you had never judged him for anything, because he was sure if he kept on repeating on how much he hated taylor swift to some other girl in his grade, she'd probably have flipped him off, even if she, herself hated her. that was the level of repetitive he could get.

but he missed you, making those random cakes with your mother and you ran down to him to make him taste it first and he acted disgusted. “this is the worst, did you put in salt instead of sugar?” and you still had a smile on your face when you answered. “no, i just tasted it.”

he fiddled with the paper bouquet you left him for a long while after that, thinking about that afternoon and many others like that again and again. he could just… call you but his ego wouldn’t let him. and he was so disappointed over the fact that you were talking to his mother almost every other day, but you never asked for him?

it was hurtful.

but he couldn’t just ignore it. even when it was the only thing he wanted to do, ignore you, keep you out of his mind. but even when in high school he began going on dates and dances, he kept coming back to the paper flowers you left him.

he didn’t have any allergies. he was just messing with you. he never knew you'd actually do it. just like he never thought you'd actually leave, or that he'd ever miss you like this.

when he was out of the local college, he was sure that he was going to come to you, he knew the city where you lived through his parents' daily conversation at the dinner table. you were still in college, about an year or two remaining and he looked for jobs in your area.

when he found one, he was absolutely relieved. he told his parents it was one of the best opportunities in his career and it was, just not in his career, but it helped that the city you were in was quite famous and the job wasn’t bad either.

so when he finally takes your number from his mother and calls you.

he’s so delighted to hear your voice, even though it has changed a lot. and you’re happy too! you sound really happy when you say that you're excited to meet him.

and oh, you’re right, he never considered your angle on it, you must have missed him so much! oh, poor thing, the move must have been so harsh to you. maybe the reason you didn’t ask his mom to give him the call was because it'd simply hurt too much to talk to him without being near him. right? this had to be the only explanation.

so when he moves in and settles into his apwrtment, he calls you in the morning, and you give him a recommendation for a cafè nearby, “it’s a good one, i think you'll like it,”

see! you know him so well!

he arrives there a few minutes late, but you’re already there. oh, you still love him so well.

but midway through drinking overexpensive coffees and reminiscing the old times, he chokes on his drink.

he honestly thinks you’re kidding.

“what?” he wants you to repeat it again.

“i said, i’m not in love with you, my friend, i’ve moved on,”

the friend stings more than applying sanitizer on a cut, he swears. but it was just unbelievable, you were just running after him (not quite literally, pardon him, he’s a little delusional) begging for him (again, he’s delusional) to make him go on a date with you, with the last part being true. you did want him to go on a date with you, but you respected his decisions.

yes, you did have the worst and incredibly humiliating crush on your childhood friend, but it was just all that was in your opinion, a crush that started when you were 12 because he was the only one you hung out with and spent all your time with and so you were convinced, from ages 12 to 16 almost that this was the guy you’d marry and start a family with, you’d already picked out the names for them. but the problem was? he didn’t like you back.

your childhood friend had better things to do, like all teenage guys do, ofcourse, but he was always stuck with the feeling that he didn’t want you, he physically cringed when at joint dinner sometimes both of your parents would joke about you both dating, it was just something that was unimaginable for him at that point. only at that point though.

he was too busy going out on dates with random people, unbeknownst to how much he was hurting you (because in his defense, he was just a kid and he wasn’t quite sure how deep your feelings ran).

but now? why not now?

he had finally realized that it was you he liked, genuinely. And now you say this? It was absolutely heartless, did you not even stop to consider his feelings, even for once? Did the fact that you loved him before mean nothing to you?

“why don’t you love me anymore? or are you lying? to avenge your hopeless pining and me turning you away, is that it? please, talk to me. please.”

“it was a childhood crush, they eventually go away,” you don’t know what more he wants to say to you.

“but i… but you,”

“there are no but's here, if you came here looking for me because you’re realizing your feelings almost 8-9 years later then it's absurd because did you really think i would wait for you that long? i have a life now, i have a boyfriend and.. just grow up, you have a job here you should focus on that.”

you mentally made a note to stay the fuck away from this guy, because he was spewing some crazy, crazy shit. never in your wildest dreams did you ever think he would come back and be insistent on his feelings, it was all like a fever dream.

“am i that bad..?” he whispers softly, you look up at him, he has both of his hands on the table and his head hanging down. great, he's crying now. “i'm sorry i was so rude to you before.”

“look, it's fine, okay? we were both kids and i don't even hold it against you, i didn’t back then and i still don't. so go live your life and move on,”

you didn’t think you could bear to stay sitting there for a minute more, so you got up and went to the counter to pay and without a second glance, you left the cafè.

all the while, your childhood friend is still sitting there, not looking up.

“i.. i can’t do that,” and he looks up and wipes his tears, he didn’t come all the way here just to get disheartened so easily, did he?

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