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scribes-of-valar · 3 days ago

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𝘉𝘰𝘺'𝘴 𝘢 𝘓𝘪𝘢𝘳

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| ᴄʟᴀʀᴋ ᴋᴇɴᴛ x fem! reader

「 ✦ A/N ✦ 」 I don't know what has creeped into my brain, but I've started rewatching the show and I literally wrote this in a day.

✬ summary ✬ Finally taking the plunge and ruining your friendship with Clark, you go on your first date but the next day he's acting like a whole new man. Not a good one. You don't know if your relationship can recover from his cruel behavior, but he's not going to give up so easily.

For the nth time, you stand before your mirror and find yourself dissatisfied. No outfit is right, each one is too little, too much, too slutty, not slutty enough. You haven’t even started on shoes yet, you would be in the grave before you were ready for this date. Throwing yourself down on your desk chair, you start tugging the stockings down your legs.

You’re not sure why you thought tights would work during the peak of a Kansas summer, but you’re clearly not thinking much at all today. Head propped in your hand, you slump against the edge of your desk, fingers running idly over the scattered makeup on the surface. Even that hasn't gone right, your normal safeties failing you when you need them most.

Maybe this was all a sign from the universe. You and Clark have been friends since you could walk, what if this stupid date was going to ruin everything between you?

Sighing, you reach for the only framed picture in your room. It’s silly, something Martha took when you were both too busy playing to see her. You and Clark, freshly five, sit around your old purple play table, the both of you covered in glitter and rocking some of the biggest tutus you’ve ever seen. You’re yelling at him in the picture, probably telling him to put his pinky up when he drinks his tea, and he’s just grinning at you.

It’s funny how that smile never changed. Something warm unfurls and blooms in your chest the longer you look at the picture. It’s Clark, he doesn’t care what you wear or if you’ve put on makeup or not. You both loved each other long before that was ever a problem, and it’s not going to start being one now.

Sucking in a deep breath you put on the first outfit you’d picked out, a simple white sundress. You rarely get to wear it, anyway. Might as well test it out now. You check the mirror one last time just as someone knocks on your bedroom door.

Clark calls out your name on the other side, sounding hesitant. “Sorry, um,” he chuckles and you can picture the way he must be nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I got here a little early.”

You dart away from the mirror, kicking all the clothes under your bed. You slide the makeup into your desk drawer to be dealt with later. For now, you just need to make sure that he doesn’t see what a hot mess your room is.

Sucking in a deep breath, you tug the hem of your dress down and shake off your worries. This is Clark. Your Clarkie, the boy you’ve tormented since you were a toddler. There’s nothing to worry about.

“You’re always early, Clark,” you tell him with a soft smile as you open the door.

His eyes widen slightly as he looks down at you. You did purposefully pick a dress that would emphasize certain aspects of yours. The pink flush on his cheeks is entirely worth it. Your eyes are drawn to the bunch of flowers in his hand and you grin. “Are those for me?” You gush, opening your door wider for him to step inside.

“Yeah,” he holds them out to you, blue eyes stuck on yours. “I thought you might like them.” You bring them closer to your face, taking in the faint scent of the roses.

“I love them, thank you,” you find yourself unable to stop smiling as you drop the roses in a glass of water by your bed. After building up your hopes and anxieties for a week because of this date, you're struggling to calm yourself down.

Turning, you find him already looking at you with a soft smile that calms your racing heart just a bit. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a while,” he tells you, taking a step closer to you. His hands find your own, pulling you into him. “Not just the date,” he amends, smile stretching wider. “Asking you out. I think our friends were getting sick of listening to me talk about you all the time.”

You laugh, “I think they were getting sick of both of us. I feel so oblivious that it took me so long to realize you felt the same way.”

He huffs, though his tone remains good-natured, “How do you think I feel?”

“Well,” you lace your fingers with his and step closer, “we’re doing it now, that’s what matters.” He ducks down and you feel your breath stutter, but he only leaves a brief kiss on your cheek, pulling back with a sheepish expression. A gentleman through and through.

You’d never thought that knowing Clark for as well and as long as you have could be a bad thing. But now, sitting in The Talon and awkwardly dipping your fries in ketchup just to have something to do, you’re starting to realize it is. Being with each other nearly every day leaves you wanting for conversation. You both are already so caught up on what’s going on in each other’s lives that you’re struggling not to just bring up the weather.

Clark groans and you startle, the noise breaking through the thick silence between you. He leans back in the booth, head resting on the edge and you find your eyes drawn to the strong muscles of his neck, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

Clearing your throat you glance away from him and push your plate away. “I didn’t want it to be like this,” Clark mutters, more to himself than you, but you hear him anyway.

“It’s, well,” you pause, struggling for the words. Letting out a self-deprecating laugh, you shake your head. “I just don’t know what to do when we’re like this,” he peeks an eye open and you gesture between the two of you.

His lips quirk up and he straightens once more. “I feel like I should be able to talk to you, same as always. But I don't know what to say, I don’t want to risk messing this up.” He trails off, glancing away from you and swallowing roughly. The same dreaded panic you’ve been feeling all week is thick in his voice.

“Clark,” you utter his name lowly, reaching your hand out across the table. He’s slow to meet your eyes. “I feel the same way. We’re being stupid because I know that nothing you could say is going to change how I feel about you.” You narrow your eyes, taking on a teasing tone, “And you better feel the same way,” you scold.

He huffs out a laugh, larger hand enveloping yours entirely and squeezing gently, “You know I do.”

You shrug, “Then we’re just being stupid, again,” you add, rolling your eyes.

His eyes light up with mischief, a smile spreading as he stands from his seat. You jump back slightly, surprised by the sudden movement. “I’ve got an idea, come on,” he holds his hand out and you take it once more.

You let out a surprised laugh as he takes off, dragging you out of the Talon behind him. “Where are we going?”

He pauses for a moment, looking over his shoulder at you. It awes you, just how handsome he is. “It’s a surprise,” he winks and tugs you closer.

“Your surprise is… the school?” You frown, taking Clark’s hand as he helps you down from the truck.

“No,” he defends, shooting you a sarcastic look as he closes the door behind you. “We’re sneaking onto the field, like we used to. Maybe a little jog down memory lane will help,” he gives you a cheesy smile and you feel like you might melt.

The sun hangs low on the horizon, its fading golden hues painting the sky in soft oranges and purples. The light catches in Clark’s hair, casting a warm halo around him. Sometimes he seems so overwhelmingly perfect that you wonder if you’ll ever be enough for him. Even when you were beginning to give up hope, he comes up with something so sweet, so thoughtful, that all you want to do is kiss him.

Swallowing down the urge, you place your hand in his and let him lead you around the side of the school. “You know, we only used to do this to mess with the football players,” you tease. “Hard to do when you’re on the team, Clarkie.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Hey, we can still tear the seams on their jerseys- just not mine.” He throws you a grin, and it sends a rush of warmth through your chest.

The familiar path behind the school is darker now, but your steps fall in sync like muscle memory. The fence around the field looms ahead, a little more daunting than normal. It’s harder to climb in your dress, but Clark gives you a boost. One so strong you nearly fly over.

Landing with a huff, you turn to glare at him as he pulls himself over with ease. “Too much torque in the thrust, Clark,” you grumble, brushing off your hands.

He chuckles, throwing an arm over your shoulders as you both step onto the field. “Come on, we should get down there before the sun’s gone.”

Dew from the grass seeps its way into the thin fabric of your shoes as you walk toward the center of the field. The bleachers stand empty, the goalposts stretch high into the deepening sky, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you can take a breath.

Clark shrugs off his jacket, laying it out on the grass and motioning for you to sit. You hesitate for a moment, but then you look down at the white fabric of your dress and decide you’re okay with sacrificing Clark’s jacket.

Clark lowers himself beside you, leaning back on his palms as he gazes up at the sky. The last streaks of sunlight fade, and one by one, the stars blink to life above you. You’ve always thought the sky above Smallville was different than anywhere else. As if the stars were reaching out to you. Considering your track record with meteors, it doesn’t seem that far off.

For a while, neither of you speak. The quiet is comfortable, not at all like the stilted silence you’d felt in the diner. You’re content just being here with him, under the vast, endless sky.

Clark is the first to break the peace. He shifts beside you, drawing in a slow breath as he disrupts the silence. “I’ve,” he hesitates on the word, “cared about you for a long time,” he admits, voice low and steady. “Longer than I ever told you.”

You glance over at him and find his gaze fixed on the stars. His jaw is tense, like he’s bracing himself for you to tell him this was all one big mistake and you’re better off as friends. A smile pulls at your lips at the ridiculous thought and you reach toward the small space between you both. Placing your hand over his, he finally looks at you.

“I know things are,” he pauses, “a little weird between us right now.” He looks at your hand and flips his palm so he can lace your fingers together. “But I don’t want to lose what we have. If you’re willing to make it work, I am too.”

Your heart stutters, and for a moment all you can do is stare at him. At the boy who’s always been there, the boy who, despite everything, still makes your heart race. Your smile spreads, “Of course I’m willing,” you whisper.

His breath hitches, and then he grins, the same grin that will never fail to make you lightheaded with infatuation.

Clark was meant to be here an hour ago. You’d made plans to go to a screening of some old movies at the theater. Sitting on the steps of your front porch, head propped in your hand, you look out at the farmlands around you. He only lives a few minutes away from you, you can’t fathom why he would be so late.

You’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s not the type of guy to just leave you hanging. But there’s something humiliating about sitting out here all on your own. The wind has already fussed and ruined the hairstyle you’d so meticulously worked on. You’d already missed half of one of the movies. And the sun is beginning to set.

Part of you is begging to just go inside and give up, but you're more stubborn half won't give in. Clark isn't like this, he wouldn't do something like this without good reason.

A rumble sounds down the highway and your head perks up, crestfallen look replaced with something more hopeful. Getting to your feet, you grimace at the pins and needles tingling down your legs. Walking down the steps and getting a good look at the approaching motorcycle, your stomach plummets.

Not Clark, then, though it’s odd to see someone beside you or the Kent’s driving on this stretch of road. Your hand tightens around the hem of your tank top as the motorcycle begins to slow as it approaches your house. Heart picking up, you take a step back toward the safety of the porch.

Maybe they just need directions or maybe…

Your brain breaks for a moment as the rider pulls into your driveway.

Maybe they’re Clark.

Your jaw drops as he shoots you a smarmy grin, getting off his father’s bike and striding toward you with a swagger you’re unused to. “Hiya, sweetheart." You take a step back from him, brows furrowed.

“Clark,” you spit his name out in shock, eyes darting between him and the bike. Knowing that he’s not dying somewhere in a ditch, your anger at being left waiting surges forth. “You’re an hour late because you were busy stealing your dad’s bike?” You demand, trying to ignore just how good he looks leaning against the post of your porch in that ridiculous leather jacket.

“Sure,” he chuckles and rolls his eyes, brushing past you and heading back to the bike. “That’s why,” he snaps, like you’re slow. He straddles the bike and nods you forward. “You coming or not?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you glance between him and the front door of your house. Again, giving him the benefit of the doubt, you choose to get on the back of the bike. Maybe this is all just one big act that he’s putting on to surprise you with something at the theater.

He turns the key and you frown, “Helmet?” You ask weakly. He doesn’t respond, just laughs and peels out of your driveway. You squeal, grabbing on tight to his waist and burying your face in his back.

This isn’t an act, and this definitely isn’t Clark. But whoever he is, you just got on the back of his motorcycle like an idiot.

With every turn and rev of the bike, you prepare to feel the pavement beneath your palms. Still, as reckless and nauseating as his driving is, he manages to get you here in one piece. Though, where here is, you’re not sure.

Clark swings off the bike effortlessly, grinning over his shoulder at a group of girls walking into the building behind him. He doesn’t seem to notice, or care, about the way your hands still tremble from the ride. You’d been too busy clutching onto him for dear life to pay any attention to where you were going and you’re starting to regret it.

The building is nothing more than dirtied brick, the faded neon sign above the door advertising beer and live music. The bass thumps from inside, vibrating the gravel beneath your feet. From within, you hear jeering shouts, the telltale sounds of a crowd on the verge of chaos.

“Clark,” despite his odd behavior, you still find yourself stepping toward him and holding tight to his hand. The sheltered life of Smallville hasn’t exactly prepared you for backwoods, seedy bars. “Where are we?” You peer up at him and the glint in his eyes makes your stomach clench with trepidation.

“Oh,” he laughs, tugging you toward the entrance, “you’re gonna like this,” he swears. Despite the way you dig your heels into the dirt, he keeps pulling, giving you no choice but to follow him into the bar.

The air changes as you step inside, it’s worse than you thought it would be. Thick with heat and smoke, it pulses with the heavy bass of a song you don’t recognize. Multicolored lights flash across the writhing bodies on the dance floor. The scent of spilled beer, sweat, and something sticky clings to the air.

Your fingers tighten around Clark’s arm as he moves forward, practically wrapping yourself around him. He weaves through the crowd like he belongs here. If you let go now, you know he wouldn’t stop, he’d just keep going, leaving you all alone in a place you want no part of.

Clark drags you to the edge of the bar and slips a crumpled twenty across the counter. Wordlessly, and without checking for IDs, the bartender slides over two beers. Clark grabs one and to your utter shock, tilts it back, downing one long gulp.

“You gonna stand there watching me,” he challenges, “or are you finally going to let loose and have some fun?”

“No, Clark, I’m not drinking. And neither should you! You’re driving us back,” you snap, eyes darting around the seedy crowd.

Settling the half-empty bottle on the counter, he smirks, “Relax. We’re here to have a good time,” his tone almost sounds like a threat. Have a good time or else…

His gaze flickers toward the dance floor and your heart sinks at the mischief in his expression. “And I know exactly how to help you loosen up.”

Again, he gives you no time to protest or even form an opinion before he grabs you and pulls you toward the center of the dance floor. You feel like a leashed dog, no choice but to obey.

The music shifts into something darker, slower, a sultry beat thrumming through the air. It charges the atmosphere of the dancers and the crowd sways, bodies pressed tightly together as they move with the rhythm.

“Clark,” you glance around at the writhing bodies and swallow thickly. “I don’t-”

“Just one dance,” he cuts you off smoothly, voice low and coaxing. His lips curl up in a gentle smile as his hands find your waist. His grip is tight but not uncomfortable as he helps move your hips into the rhythm of the song. “Trust me.”

You hesitate, but it’s easier than you thought to simply fall into the slow, lazy grind of the dance. Your body moves in sync with his, despite the apprehension tightening through you. There’s something wrong with him, that’s clear enough. This isn’t the Clark you know, this is some bold, almost predatory version of him.

One of his hands drifts up from your waist, dragging the hem of your thin tank top up slightly as his fingers brush against the nape of your neck. A shiver runs down your spine as his grip tightens, tilting your head back. You press your hands against his chest, eyes rounding in confusion.

“Clark,” you whisper his name, breathless from the proximity. “What are you-”

He cuts you off, voice rough and breath warm against your lips, “Finally taking what I want.” His head dips down, lips capturing your own. It’s not the soft, gentle first kiss you’d always imagine you would share with him. This is hard, demanding.

He’s claiming you, marking his territory as he slips his hand lower on your waist. He pulls you flush against him, hips pressing against yours. A heat slowly spreads in you, but it's overshadowed by the overwhelming feeling that this isn’t Clark.

You push against his chest and you know he lets you go, the situation still under his control. He backs off with an irritated look, eyes narrowed down at you.

Your breath comes in quick, uneven gasps as you stare up at him. “What the hell, Clark?”

“What’s your problem?” He snaps, hand flexing around your neck before dropping to his side.

“You,” you hiss, eyes narrowing. “You’re not yourself, Clark.”

His jaw tenses, fists clenching by his side as he takes a step back from you. “Why? Because I’m finally doing what I want?” His voice is sharp, it bites at the fraying edges of your patience. The music around you picks up pace and somebody slams into you from behind.

With a pained gasp, you stumble forward, rubbing the sore spot where their elbow had slammed into your ribs. Clark watches it all with a bored look. Gone is the gentle, considerate boy you’ve known your whole life. This boy before you is reckless and selfish, you don’t want anything to do with him.

His attention flickers past you and you turn to follow his gaze. A pretty blonde sways in the middle of the dance floor, hips moving gracefully as her laughter rings above the music. Without a word or a second glance, he steps around you, striding toward her with the same effortless confidence he just used on you.

Frozen by disbelief and anger, you watch as he slides a hand around her waist, murmuring something in her ear that makes her giggle. The crowd shifts again, blocking your view of the two. It’s for the better as you suck in sharp breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay.

A lump clogs your throat and you rush toward the back of the bar, hoping there might be a bathroom to hide in. You just need a second away from the sweat and noise of the dancers. You stumble through a stained door and slam it closed behind you, wiping desperately at the tears rolling down your cheeks.

After splashing cold water over your face and simply standing in there for a few minutes, you finally feel stable enough to go back outside. You’re just going to ask Clark to take you home and then you hope you never have to see him again.

But when you return to the dance floor, heart still pounding its way up your throat, you can’t find Clark. You can’t even find the blonde. He’s acting like a jackass, but there’s no way he would just leave you.

Right?

You rush outside, your stomach dropping like a stone when you see the parking lot. The motorcycle is gone.

He left you behind.

“Thank you,” your gaze stays trained on your hands, not ready to look at Lex. You feel his stare boring into the side of your head before he turns back to the road.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad you called me instead of trying to get home on your own.” He pauses, hand tightening on the steering wheel as he takes in a deep breath. “But what were you doing in a place like that?”

You slump in the passenger seat, rubbing a tired hand over your face. All you want to do is go home and wash this night away. You’re hesitant to tell him the truth, knowing he might give Clark hell for leaving you there. A part of you is still primed to protect him, but the other part, the one that was just left behind, can’t care.

“Clark,” you tell him and his head whips around so fast you’re surprised you don't hear it snap. “He was acting weird tonight. Took me there and then left with another girl.”

“Are you serious?” He demands, sounding angry on your behalf. Right now, though, you don’t have the energy for anger. “Clark wouldn’t do that.”

You suck in a deep breath and finally look at him, “The one I know wouldn’t,” you offer vaguely, ignoring his confused expression. “Honestly, I just want to get home and never talk to him again.”

Lex chuckles a little, “You don’t mean that.”

“Try me,” you snap, glaring out the window. You’re debating calling Clark’s dad and telling him that Clark took the bike. If not just for petty revenge. Just the thought of it makes you feel tired.

“I’m sure,” Lex starts, already sounding like he doesn’t believe himself, “he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for what he did.” You roll your eyes, giving him a deadpan look. His hand lifts slightly off the wheel in surrender. “There’s no excuse,” he amends.

“No, there’s not.” The car rolls to a stop and you look out the window, surprised to already be at your house. The porch light is off, your parents must already be asleep. “I really can’t thank you enough,” you tell Lex, offering him a weak but grateful smile.

He waves you off, “Forget it, I’m glad I could help. If you ever need anything else…” He trails off, leaving the offer open-ended.

You nod, opening the passenger door and stepping out. You’re just about to close it when something occurs to you. Clark always gives you a ride to school, you’re not going to have a way to get there after tonight.

“Oh,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation.

“What’s wrong?” Lex looks concerned and you offer him an apologetic grimace.

“I actually do need something,” you tell him, sheepish and pleading.

Clark wakes up with a fog clouding his mind, a dull pounding behind his eyes. Vague flashes of memory flicker through the haze. The sound of your upset voice, the thrum of music, and the feeling of your body pressed against his. It makes his cheeks flush with warmth, but none of it connects for him. Everything’s one frustrating blur.

But he can figure that out later, his gaze drifts toward the clock on his nightstand and his eyes widen. He leaps off the bed, nearly tripping as he gets wrapped up in his sheets. He was meant to pick you up ten minutes ago.

Clark throws on the first clothes he finds, raking a hand through his messy hair as he bolts down the stairs. His backpack is nearly left by the door as he rushes out. If he could, he’d run you to school. It would be so much faster, so much easier. But that would require explaining why he could do that, and he doesn’t think you’d appreciate him springing the truth of his abilities on you this early in the morning.

You’re not exactly a morning person.

He speeds down the road, the truck’s tires kicking up dust as he pulls into your driveway. Throwing the truck in park he doesn’t even bother cutting the engine before leaping out. Two steps at a time, he bounds up your front porch and knocks firmly on the door.

His foot taps against the wood of the porch as he checks the watch on his wrist. If you hurry, you might both be able to make it to first period on time. After a minute of silence he knocks again, but he’s greeted with the same silence.

He steps back, brows knitted together, and his gaze flickers toward the front window. He ignores the feeling of being a complete creeper as he peers through the glass. The house looks unnaturally still, none of your usual morning mess as you rush to get ready on time. The lights are off and he can’t hear anything inside.

Your parents are usually gone before you even wake up. He can’t think of anyone else who would give you a ride. Or why you would even have anyone else drive you. A strange unease coils in his stomach and another brief memory flashes through his mind. It’s not much, just a pretty blonde smiling up at him.

Jaw tightening, Clark turns back to his truck, climbing inside and heading straight for school. He’s sure everything’s fine. You probably had Chloe or Lana pick you up. Still, even with him being ten minutes late, he’s not sure how they would have gotten to your house before him.

Pulling into the parking lot he frowns, greeted first thing in the morning by Lex’s ridiculously overpriced sports car. It’s parked right in front of the entrance and he wonders what business Lex would have at the high school.

The passenger door opens and you step out, your bag slung over one shoulder. You turn to Lex, smiling as you give him a sweet wave. Clark watches it all with his shoulders tensed as something sharp and hot twists in Clark’s chest.

He watches as Lex pulls out of the parking lot, jaw clenched in irritation. He throws the truck into park and gets out, heading toward the front doors. Inside, the hallways seem more crowded than usual but he still manages to make you out almost instantly.

You’re at your locker, pulling out books as if nothing’s wrong. As if you didn’t get a ride with Lex Luthor and ditch him for seemingly no reason at all.

Clark makes a beeline for you, tightening his grip on his backpack as he stops beside your locker. “Hey,” he calls, forcing a smile. “Did I miss something? I thought I was picking you up this morning.”

You don’t even bother looking at him, eyes stubbornly pointed forward. “Guess I made other plans.”

The coldness in your voice stops him in his tracks. His stomach drops, smile faltering as you continue to pretend there’s anything more for you to grab from your locker. “Okay…” He exhales slowly. “Did something happen?”

You slam your locker shut and he jumps. Whipping around to face him, your eyes are dark with anger as you glare up at him. “Really?” You snap and his eyes widen in surprise. “This is what you’re doing, pretending you don’t remember?”

Clark blinks, thrown off by the heat in your voice. “I-”

“Forget it,” you cut him off. You shake your head, looking tired. “Just leave me alone, Clark. Seems to be something you’re good at, anyway.” You whip around, storming off down the hall and leaving him reeling. He wants to go after you but you’re already slipping into your English class and he knows there’s no way he’ll be able to talk to you in there.

He hovers in the hallway, stunned. What the hell happened last night?

His mind races, grasping at the fleeting memories. There was a bar, he’s not even sure how he found that place. He was dancing with you and then kissing you. His eyes widen at that, grimacing at the blurred memory of your rough first kiss. He’d been hoping for something a little sweeter than some backwoods bar.

He remembers you being angry at him but that’s it. There are holes and gaps that he can’t remember no matter how hard he tries. There’s only one thing that could explain the reckless behavior, the memory gaps, and the way he felt like someone else.

Red kryptonite.

His heart sinks and his head falls into his hands. He hurt you and probably scared you. You don’t even want to look at him now. Straightening up, he runs a hand through his hair and tries to think of a way to fix all of this.

He’s not sure he can, not when he can’t even remember what he’s done to you.

Admittedly, ambushing you outside of class probably wasn’t the best way to go about this. But he needed to make sure you couldn’t run from him. You walk out the door, books clutched to your chest, and head down.

Clark falls into step beside you and you briefly glance up, rolling your eyes when you realize it’s him. You pick up your pace, clearly trying to put space between the both of you. “Wait,” he calls, stepping in front of you. “One chance to explain, please.”

You stop in the middle of the hall, uncaring to the students parting around you. “Clark-”

“I don’t remember everything,” he admits, voice low and desperate as he pushes through your objection. “But I know something happened. And I need to fix this.”

Exhaling sharply, you can’t seem to meet his eye. “There’s nothing to fix.”

That can’t be true. He won’t let that be true. “Please,” he presses. “Just… one chance.”

For a moment, you hesitate, teeth pressing into your lower lip as you take a step back from him. “Fine,” you relent, sounding wholly reluctant. “We’ll talk after school.”

Relief floods through him and he finally manages a real smile for the first time all morning. “Okay,” he utters, trying not to sound surprised. “Great, I’ll drive you home, and-”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “Lex is giving me a ride,” he opens his mouth to protest and you shoot him a sharp look. His jaw snaps closed and he sighs. “I’ll meet you at your house later,” you tell him, leaving no room for argument.

His stomach twists as you turn and walk away. Lex, he scoffs and shakes his head. When did the two of you get close? One bad night and you’re already done with him?

The thought should fill him with anger, but it only makes his worry grow. Whatever he had done last night must have been truly awful. He hates that there’s a chance he won’t be able to fix this. But what makes it worse is knowing that it’s all his fault.

Clark’s in his room when he hears you pull up to the house. He doesn’t waste any time as he heads down the stairs. “What happened to ‘I never want to see him again?’” Clark has no shame as he listens to your conversation. He doesn’t appreciate how comfortable Lex sounds teasing you.

“Yeah, well,” your voice loses its muffled edge as you open the passenger door. “I deserve an explanation.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Lex tells you as Clark opens his front door. Rolling his eyes, Clark jogs down the steps of his porch, heading toward you both. You turn over your shoulder, smile falling as you nod your head in greeting.

Clark’s waited forever to finally tell you how he really feels about you. Years of pining all led to that one moment where you told him that you feel the same way. He’d finally gotten a chance with you, to be with you like he always wanted. He’s not going to let last night ruin everything.

“Thanks, Lex,” you mutter, closing the passenger door and marching toward Clark. Lex lingers for a moment and Clark sends him a stiff smile and wave. Lex returns it with a smirk before driving off.

“So,” arms crossed across your chest, you glance up at him with barely veiled apprehension. “Are we going inside?”

Clark glances back at his house and shakes his head. He holds his hand out to you and you give him a wary glare. “Please,” he asks, and after a moment you place your hand in his. He smiles and leads you to the barn.

Call it nostalgia, call it desperation but whatever compelled you to actually hear Clark out can go bite it. He abandoned you at a club in a town you hadn’t even heard of. To go be with another girl, no less. You shouldn’t have even stopped to listen to him in the hallway. It’s a lack of self-respect, really.

But there was something in his eyes that compelled you to stay. Last night, he’d been a stranger wearing Clark’s face. This morning, you saw the earnest sincerity you always do when you look into those pretty blue eyes of his. Giving in was an inevitability.

Walking the familiar path to the barn you’re struck with a feeling almost like grief. Whatever could have bloomed between you and Clark feels like sand falling through your fingers. Unless he’s about to open those doors and reveal an evil twin, you’re not sure you could ever forgive him.

Clark glances over his shoulder at you, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He throws the doors of the barn open and you roll your eyes at the dramatics. You slip past him and head inside, stopping short once you see what he’s done.

Fairy lights dangle above the loft, illuminating what looks like a poorly built blanket fort. Christmas lights he clearly stole from his mom are hung haphazardly from the rafters. You can see the effort he put into making the barn feel special, even if the execution is lacking.

It’s the nostalgia of it all that makes you smile. Summer’s spent camping out in the barn, hidden away under blanket forts, and trying to scare each other with your bad ghost stories. It’s a time capsule of your childhood. And you know what he’s trying to do, how he’s trying to soften the hard edges of your resentment. You hate that it’s beginning to work.

Clark heads up to the loft first, glancing over his shoulder and motioning for you to follow. You sigh, face blank as you work to keep up the cool exterior you feel slowly melting away. He offers his hand as you reach the top, and after a beat of hesitation, you reluctantly take it.

Clark pulls you forward and keeps your hand in his as he leads you to sit down across from him. Sinking back into the plush pillows and blankets you prop your head in your hand, watching him with a bored expression. Sucking in a deep breath, he rubs his hands along the surface of his jeans, avoiding your eyes for a moment.

“I didn’t want our first kiss to be in some bar.” He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck before finally meeting your eyes. “I didn’t want our first anything to be there. I wanted it to be somewhere like this, somewhere that actually meant something to us.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. Then he leans closer, reaching across the space between you, his fingers curling around yours again. The warmth of his palm is comforting, even if you don’t let him see that. “I don’t want to lose my best friend. I don’t want to lose you, you have to believe me. What happened last night, it wasn’t me.”

Your expression hardens and you yank your hand from his, putting distance between you. Clark’s face flickers with hurt, but you ignore it. “Why should I believe anything you say, Clark? What happened last night was an eye-opener. Clearly, we’re better off just being friends.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, looking like you’ve just punched him in the gut. “You don’t mean that,” he murmurs.

“Don’t I?”

Clark drops his head into his hands, fingers threading through his hair. His shoulders curl inward, and for a long while, he doesn’t speak. The silence between you stretches, thick with unspoken words.

Maybe it would be better for you to just leave. Some space might do both of you good, and help you come to terms with the truth of it all.

This was never going to work.

Clark exhales slowly, then straightens, blue eyes meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “Alright,” he nods, some internal battle going on that you’re not privy to. “Stand by the window.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. “What?”

“Do it,” he tells you, tone firm, and you find yourself struggling for a reason not to listen. Finally, with a reluctant huff, you get up and go stand by the window.

The golden fields stretch before you bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. The wheat sways gently in the evening breeze. Utterly boring and un-fascinating.

You roll your eyes, “Clark, I swear-”

A distant whistle cuts through the air. You whip around, expecting to see Clark behind you and instead find the loft empty. Your stomach tightens and you turn back to the window. A flicker of movement catches your attention, “What the…”

You press against the window, squinting at the field below. That’s when you see him. A very small Clark waves from the middle of the wheat, far too distant for how quickly he got there. Your breath catches and you find yourself waving back without thinking.

There’s no possible way he crossed all that in under thirty seconds.

But he’s not satisfied with just an impressive show of speed. Clark disappears and then reappears right below the barn window. Only, he’s not alone.

Above his head, with terrifying ease, he’s holding a goddamn tractor. Your heart slams against your ribs. “Clark!” You shout, terrified this little stunt of his is going to end with him sandwiched into the dirt. He sets it down casually, as if it weighs nothing.

A gust of wind pushes your hair forward and you turn sharply. Clark stands behind you now, cheeks flushed, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “What the hell was that?” You demand, eyes darting between him and the tractor outside.

“It’s what I wanted to tell you. What I’ve always wanted to tell you,” he concedes, his smile faltering slightly, his voice tinged with something vulnerable.

Still stunned, you sink onto the couch as he begins to explain. About the crash landing. About his powers. How he’s different.

Your best friend- your almost-boyfriend, is an alien.

Of all the things racing through your mind, only one question comes to mind. “Why have you never told me?” You don’t ask him if he was from Jupiter or Mars, or if he’s got a secret eye hidden somewhere. You just want to know why he didn’t think he could trust you.

Clark hesitates. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he says, “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore. That you’d see me as some freak.”

You snort, “You’re an idiot is what you are.”

His head snaps up, blinking at you in surprise. “Clark, why would I ever care about what planet you’re from?” You shake your head, a smile creeping onto your lips as you shift forward, kneeling in front of him. Your hands find his, squeezing slightly. Then, hesitantly, you reach up, cupping his cheek. A smile spreads across your face as he leans into the touch. “I care about you, not about what rocket you crash-landed in.”

“More of a pod,” he corrects and you shoot him a sharp look that makes him laugh. He sobers quickly, smile fading, “I understand if you can’t forgive me for last night.”

“Well,” you muse, tilting your head. “It wasn’t really you, right? It was that krypto- karo-”

“Kryptonite,” he grins a little at the way you stumble over the word. “And, yes, it was. I would never purposefully hurt you, but it’s not an excuse.”

“It’s actually the only acceptable excuse,” you tell him, rolling your eyes playfully. “That or evil twin.” Clark’s eyes widen slightly and you narrow yours. “Do you actually have an evil twin?” You shake your head, “Never mind, we’ll talk about that later.”

You glance up at the twinkling lights strung above, the warm glow making the loft feel impossibly soft, impossibly safe. “Clark?” You ask and he hums, already looking at you when you glance back at him. “We can always try that first kiss again.”

His smile, soft and sweet, mirrors your own. As you lean in, his arms circle your waist, pulling you gently into him. Your fingers thread through the soft tresses of his hair as his lips brush against yours, soft, lingering, right.

This. This is what you knew it would feel like. This is home and safety, everything good in your life. You smile against Clark’s lips knowing that no matter what evil twins or toxic rocks come at you, you’ll face it together.

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sammyluvr · 3 days ago

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✶ safe now — sam & dean w.

cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, reader is the youngest sibling, blood, injury & pain, implied torture, nicknames (bud), poorly edited, no y/n, 1.4K words. requested !

summary : your brothers rescue you after you're kidnapped and tortured by demons.

there’s a moment where everything is quiet. maybe it’s minutes. hours, perhaps. you don’t really know, because nothing makes sense anymore. up and down don’t mean much to you. and you can’t tell if everything hurts, if it burns, or if you can’t feel anything at all.

then, it’s not quiet anymore. it’s loud, and yet, it’s muffled. you can’t distinguish one sound from another. a crash and a yell, maybe even a scream. more crashing, but it all sort of sounds the same, so you’re not the most reliable narrator.

but there’s something familiar in it all. the clamor, the fighting, you think it must be. the shout of a word that you know to be your own somehow, and the blurred shape in front of your barely open eyes. it’s your name, you realize. the shouted sound was your name, far away. it’s not far away anymore, murmured and panicked, and the face in front of you, going in and out of focus, is sam’s.

oh, sam. you hope it’s really him. that means this is all over.

and then you decide that you can feel and everything does hurt, because there are hands wrapping around you from behind. they frighten and confuse you at first, but before you can thrash away or cry for sam to help, dean’s voice is in your ears and you don’t fight it.

“i got you,” he says simply, soothing you without any effort at all. he’s holding you up so you don’t fall once sam unties you from where you’re strung up by the wrists, like the carcass of a slaughtered farm animal. you try not to whimper. it would embarrass you. it’s hard, though, because his strong hold is aggravating the cuts and bruises that litter your bore torso. you wonder if his hands are warm or cold, but you can’t really tell despite the fact that your skin there is exposed. you were stripped of your shirt, you think.

sam’s talking too, voice so gentle that the sound of it is the most calming part. you’re sure he’s saying comforting words, but it’s hard to focus on more than one thing at a time. his hands work quickly to free you, and then you’re slumped back against dean’s chest. your legs aren’t working all that well right now.

dean’s hold is awkward and you can sag forward, right into sam. dean lets him take you, his hands itching for his weapon. there could be more demons and he’s got to protect you. he’s the one with the demon knife.

you can imagine the dead bodies in the hallway, the vessels of all the demons who were guarding the place. but you don’t see them, your eyes having drifted closed and your head tucked away into sam’s neck. dean must be leading the way, ready to kill for you as many times as he must today, and forever.

but all the demons have been disposed of. no one gets in the way, and they carry you right out to the car. sam helps you into the back seat with him and it hurts like hell to move at all, but the smell of leather puts you at ease, finally. you’re still so out of it, oblivious to sam’s face that doesn’t bother to hide the worry and the pain of seeing you like this. you’re oblivious to the fact that dean can barely look at you, horrified by the thought that he could’ve prevented this, maybe. it wasn’t his fault that you were snatched away in the night, but both brothers will blame themselves.

you were hungry, so dean left for food. and then, the motel room felt stuffy, so you went to take a walk just around the parking lot. sam didn’t get into the shower like he planned to, waiting at the creaky table for you to come back. and when you were gone for more than five minutes—sam knew you’d get cold quickly because you ignored his advice to grab a jacket—he went out to look for you. you were gone, so he called dean, searched for you. dean got back and yelled at sam. how could you leave them alone? dean was asking himself the same question.

“hey, look at me,” sam says, voice pleading. you aren’t very responsive, and it terrifies him. the car is already moving, you realize. your eyes find his and you feel his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling your arm through the sleeve of his jacket. everything hurts so much that you never realized that you’re cold. where there isn’t blood, sam can see goosebumps. he’s gentle as he pulls the fabric around you, trying to keep you warm without hurting you any further. “there you are,” he murmurs.

“you’re fine, bud,” dean says from the front seat, voice tense as he splits his attention between the road and checking on you through the rearview mirror. when he can’t look, he’s listening. you let out a sound, meant to acknowledge them both. your awareness sharpens, and so does your pain.

“i’m fine,” you mumble back, voice flat and quiet. even sam can barely hear it, but dean catches the words too. “it’s all fine. i– i didn’t say anything. i didn’t say anything.” dean glances back, and sam looks at you in confusion.

“you didn’t say anything?” he repeats softly, trying to understand what you mean.

you give a jerky nod of your head. then you shake it the other way. “didn’t say anything,” you say again, “about the tablet. they wanted to know, but i didn’t say anything.” your voice is breathy and tired, and you’re mumbling so much that sam can barely make out what you’re saying. but he understands now, why you were taken. the tablet; you mean the demon tablet. the demons took you to get information on the demon tablet, thinking they could break the youngest winchester.

of course, they couldn’t, but the thought boils his blood with fury. that anyone thinks they can use you for something like that. or that they think you’re a weak link, just because you’re the youngest. or maybe it was to cause the most chaos, the most panic. to mess with you is to raise hell. that’s what demons are for, of course, but they were stupid enough to think it wouldn’t just get them all killed.

“they took you for that?” dean growls, his voice dangerously vicious, “the fucking demon tablet?”

“the demon tablet,” you breathe out, your less bruised cheek finally falling to sam’s shoulder with exhaustion. he tucks you even closer into his side. “i didn’t say anything, though.”

“we know,” sam murmurs, wanting to ease your anxiety. his heart aches that you think the stupid tablet is the most imortant thing here. you’re bleeding all over his jacket and practically delirious from pain. you’re all that he and dean care about right now. “we know. we don’t have to worry about that now, okay?”

“mhmm,” you hum, “cuz they still don’t know where it is.” your voice is so hoarse. as if you’d been screaming. presumably, you had been, and that makes your brothers see red. dean’s grip on the wheel is knuckle-whitening, and sam is only able to be gentle for your sake. his shoulders hold all of the tension just like they hold up your trembling body. the car almost swerves before dean has to force his thoughts away from what you might’ve endured. he’s all too familiar with demon torture. he thinks about killing the demons who hurt you over again.

sam thinks about it too, but just for a moment. “yeah. and because you’re safe now,” he tells you firmly.

“safe now,” you echo softly. everything hurts. the pain is bone-deep, but you believe him when he tells you that you’re safe now. “i knew you’d come get me,” you mutter, eyes never staying open for longer than a moment or two. you look as tired as you sound. maybe that’s what got you through it; the knowledge that it would be over, one way or another. either your brothers would come to rescue you and kill your captors, or you’d die first. they certainly would’ve still killed all those demons if that were to happen, and probably many, many more. but no one likes to think about that.

because you’re safe now.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sibling!reader #dean winchester x gn!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sibling!reader #sam winchester x gn!reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #supernatural hurt/comfort #sam winchester angst #sam winchester fluff

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dollyhao · 1 day ago

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lawyer!abby x client!reader (married to man but dude is barely mentioned, promise. fingering, tension, im not good at these lol, also don’t even know if this is good or not :/, let me know)

can you guys believe i couldn't find any buff women in suits...? maybe i wasn't looking hard enough...

when abby decided she wanted to be a lawyer, she thought she was gonna be some bad ass attorney that puts all the bad guys away. what she never expected was that she would end up dealing with messy divorces. but no complaining on her part; the pay is good and the mess is entertaining.

But when a woman with the bright smile on her face walks into her office she's intrigued, no one walks in here so happy. she stands up from behind her desk to shake your hand, "Good Afternoon, I'm Abby Anderson. It's nice to meet you."

your still smiling at her and you grab her hand, "It's nice to meet you; seems like your gonna be my saving grace." abby laughs and gestures for you to sit. "Would you like to start by telling me your situation?"

you hum and your smile slips a little, "ive been married for the last 7 years and i just wasn't happy anymore." you shrug a little. abby waits for you to continue but you don't so she hums. she can't help when her eyes trace over your features, you don't look like someone who was married for 7 years, you look so youthful and beautiful.

"no details?" abby gives you a teasing smirk as she looks at you. you giggle a little, "hmm, my ex-husband is a rich man who thought i was gonna cry and beg him to stay after i found out he cheated. but i didn't and asked for a divorce." abby hums writing some details down, "so what are you looking to get out of this?" abby puts her pen down, watching the way your lips lift into a smirk. "i want to take him for all he has."

abby smiles back at you standing and coming to stand in front of you, "i can see a blossoming relationship coming from this case," abby holds her hand out again to shake your hand. you smile and bite your lip before taking her hand and shaking it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you and abby spend a good amount of time together settling things for a divorce settlement. you both have gotten so close, an unspoken connection has been building between the two of you; like abby's hand on the small of your back, coffee 'meetings' where you guys don't talk about the case at all, standing a little too close to each other and more unnecessary touches.

it all reached a boiling point when you and abby were sitting in her office after hours when abby pulls out some wine and glasses she keeps behind her desk, you should've left an hour ago but you and abby weren't ready to leave each other.

your sipping from you glass while you listen to abby talk about her college days. you kick your shoes off stretching your legs in-between you and abby on the couch you were lounging on. abby had her blazer off, shirt unbuttoned dangerously low and and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. she looked so good sitting there with her legs spread and her hair falling over her shoulders.

your thoughts are getting hazy when abby stops talking, since you haven't responded to anything she's said in the last 5 minutes. she looks over at you and bites her bottom lip gently. seeing the way the moon shines through her window and lights up your face, she wants you closer.

"are you alright?" she whispers scooting closer to you, picking up your legs and placing them in her lap. "mhmm," your eyes fix on the way abby's lip is still in between her teeth. "i could sit and listen to you all day," you match her tone, scooting closer to play with the ends of her hair.

"i could watch you all day." she mumbles putting her hand on the back of your neck leaning closer to you, bumping your noses together. you close the gap between the two of you, kissing her lips with all the tension that's been building for the last couple months. abby reciprocates with just as much passion; hand in your hair the other on your waist trying to get you closer. you push at her shoulders even though your lips chase hers.

you know you shouldn't do this, not now atleast. you pull away from her watching her as you catch your breath, her lips pink and swollen looking like they're ready to get back on you. "i should go..." you whisper.

abby looks into your eyes, "if that's what you want," you nod and pull your legs off her lap. she nods, "let me take you home." you nod again watching her grab her coat and keys. you stand and do the same walking out the building and to abby's car.

when she pulls in front of your house, she looks over at you waiting for you. you turn towards her, leaning over the console to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth then directly on her lips. "thank you." you tell her before getting out and walking to your front door.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

on the day your divorce was finalized and you successfully milked you husband dry of his money, you and abby were pure smiles and grins as you rode back to her office. abby said she wants to take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate and you agree, but all you can think about is thanking her for all she has done in so many different ways.

this woman who has been nothing but gentle and attentive to you since she's met you, has melted your heart in a way no one ever has. you want her in a way you never have your husband or anyone else. but you might be thinking too much into this; this might be nothing but two people who worked close together who are obviously attracted to one another.

when you entered her office, you walk over to her desk and lean against it. “i can’t believe you did it,” you say for the second time since you left your ex and his lawyer. abby comes to stand in front of you smiling, "i didn't do much, your husband and his idiot lawyer made it too easy." you stare into her eyes before your eyes flick down to her lips. "i want to thank you."

“you don’t need to do that.” she licks her lip, caging you in as she puts her hands on her desk. her breath fans over your face as you have to restrain yourself from leaning forward and kissing her.

abby turns you around pressing you against her desk, "you've been an angel throughout all this," she whispers in your ears, "i wanna thank you," she kisses the back of your neck. she pushes you down across her desk, untucking your blouse from your skirt and pushing it up to expose your bare back. you shiver at her cold hands as they run across your skin and jump when you feel her lips press a kiss to the base of your spine.

"abby, touch me please." you turn your head to look at her, unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. "what's the rush? i thought you were supposed to be thanking me," her eyes are locked on your lacy pink panties as her big hands grip your ass. "i-i am. i just want-" you whine and jump when her hand collides with your ass. "then be patient."

you nod as abby's thumb runs up and down the wet fabric covering your dripping cunt. you whine pushing back against her, she moves your panties to the side and slips two fingers into your tight walls, feeling you tighten immediately.

you moan, jaw slack, her name caught in your throat as she fucks you on her fingers. "now what do you say?" she reaches her hand to grab your hair in her grip pulling your body against hers. you brace your hands on her desk as you fuck yourself against her fingers.

"thank you! t-thank you," a long drawn out moan falls from your lips as she uses her fingers to scissor your pussy open. abby's breathing is getting heavy as she falls more and more into the intoxicating moment; the look on your face, the feeling of you wrapped around her, the sounds your making as your orgasm builds.

"i want you. i-i want to have you all to myself." abby whispers against your sweaty neck. you clench hard around abby as you moan out, "ah, yesss! yes please." you reach your hand to hold the arm thats hitting just the right spot, overstimulating you. your orgasm subsides and you lay back on her desk. "you good beautiful?" abby picks up your skirt, pulling you up and zipping your skirt back up then tucking your stained panties into her pocket. abby moves the hair out your face with a smile and you nod.

that ended up not being the last time you've fucked abby in her office, she's up and moved you in her house where she fucks you in the shower in the morning then makes breakfast for you after. and divorcing your husband continues to be the best decision you've made.

#wlw #lesbian #the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #i 🫶🏾 abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson smut

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caseuoiseau · 1 day ago

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Please allow me to jump in with a 4th point, because I learned a lot of different fiber arts and craft stuff as a kid, and when you're a kid you tend not to care as much about your lumpy first project because every first thing you've ever done to date has been lumpy, and you tend to lack a general idea of what failure is and focus on the "Yey-I-did-it!"

But the first craft I tried as an adult was spinning, which had the triple threat horrors of being:

a) ...thoroughly unlike any other fiber craft I had ever done, despite being integral to each one (sewing, knitting, crochet--all require fiber to be spun before anything else can be done).

b) ...the first skill I had to pay my own hard-earned, fresh-out-of-college pennies to learn, and

c) ...another one of those things like playing guitar where everyone else before me had decided that the difficult part to be managed by your dominant hand was actually the complete opposite of what I thought.

So my one or two private lessons didn't amount to anything remotely usable, until a few years later when some big-name blogger started posting her spinning. And I got pissed off because I took one look at it and I thought to myself "That's barely better than mine was, and she's getting all these accolades from her followers??? I bet I could spin yarn like that with my shitty wooden-toy-wheel spindle." And man oh man didni sit down and spin.

Now, I didn't start writing this story to tell you that Spite Will Fuel You To Perfection, so don't get ahead of me. Because my fiber had been compacted over the years and I was over-twisting it and I didn't technically understand that "single ply" doesn't actually work with handspun, and I wound up making some pretty wretched curly rope. Totally unusable. But it was the age of LJ, and I nevertheless showed my craft friends my awful attempt so they could have a good laugh at it, and that's where I got the actual best advice I've received as an adult learning a craft.

My friends who spin simply told me to save it. Hold on to that yarn-that's-barely-yarn, put it in a drawer somewhere and just...check in on it from time to time. Because every time you spin, you get a little bit better at it, and it really, really helps soothe your mind to take a look at that first project when you think you haven't improved.

And my next yarn--arguably a bulky two-ply from some high-micron Shetland, still iloverspun and the texture of rope, but definitely more yarnlike. The next was a very uneven two-ply made by plying merino pencil roving back on itself. Overspun in places, but much more reasonable as handspun--if I'd told someone it was supposed to look like that with a sufficiently confident tone, they would have bought it. That was the first handspum that actually became something:

A little tea cozy that I had to alter pretty spectacularly, since I had only spun about 90 yards out of the 50g I had.

And so it goes, each project getting a little bit better than the last, and noticeably better than the first. I either threw out that yarn or I have it packed away in the attic somewhere, but I used to bring that out at the end of my first night of the drop spindle basics class I used to teach. This is what I made first. These are the next three skeins I made. And here's my most recent.

It's a hell of a way to get people to think more fondly about the kitchen twine they think they've been fighting with for the last two hours.

So, to end with the advice I used to give my first-time knitting class: this isn't like being at work. You aren't expected to be an expert in something you learned 5 minutes ago. You have my permission to suck at this.

I hope all new fiber artists know that the "slightly misshapen" object they made that they're stressed about not looking good:

1. Happens to every fiber artist always, you're too zoomed in to its every detail because you're the one who made it and most people would think it looks normal, or at least much less misshapen than you do, stand 20ft away from it and look at it and then see how you feel (true about all art tbh)

2. Gets better and more uniform each time you do anything

and the *very most important*:

3. Can be made Significantly Less Misshapen by just grabbing the fabric and stretching it in a few directions

I keep helping new fiber artists who are like "but my thing looks so bad :(((" by like, taking their object and stretching it sideways and horizontal, and handing it back, and they're like "????? Magic?????" bc it looks perfect.

Trust the process. Trust the stretchy process

#crafts #spinning #i really had a hell of a team of spinning hyping me up when i first started learning #hugs and kisses wherever you all are #and also snarky comments because honestly fuck all this sincerity it atkes up sooooo mcuh energyyyyyy

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henry7931 · 13 hours ago

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Billy’s College Adventure Part 3

Samuel:

“Good Morning,” says Billy to me from my body.I almost have to do a double take after seeing myself laying next to me.

“Morning,” I say with a grin.

“So it’s Saturday, what do you have planned for us Mr. Bodythief?,”

“Well you’re gonna just have to dressed to find out,” I say back.

“Booooo!!!”

I stand up and Billy tosses a pillow at me.

“Relax! I’ll tell you more, let’s just get ready,” I say winking at him.

We both get dressed and it took all of my energy not to ask him if we could hook up in the shower.

I’m starting to really like Billy but I have this weird thing about getting too attached to a guy. Especially with the assholes I’ve dated in the past. I’ve just been burned too many times although Billy seems different…

I don’t know…I just don’t want him to think I’m too clingy. Which I now realize is an oxymoron since we are literally in each other’s bodies.

Anyways enough about my feels.

Billy and I head back to my apartment.

“This place looks familiar,” says Billy sarcastically.

“It’s not much especially compared to your place but it’s my temporary home,” I say back.

“Ohhh come this isn’t bad at all!”

“Billy you’re in a full ass house,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m just the rich privileged kid.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re at least aware,” I say pushing your shoulder.

“So what’s the game plan? Are we just gonna stand around in your apartment?”

“ No. I need the book that my great uncle left me.”

I head into my room and open up my closet. I grab the book from the top shelf.

“So Billy, are you ready to put your powers to test?”

“Geez, I think so.”

“Good!”

I start scrolling through the book digging for the part where it talks about the power of having to swappers.

“Here it is!”

I’d start skimming through it and get to a specific part.

I start reading aloud, “ one swapper is powerful, but their abilities can be limited… but with two swappers now that’s some real power. Rarely in our culture you will see two swappers who are capable of getting along… But if two swappers can conjoin powers together, they can do some really interesting things. For instance, swapping and creating a new reality . Two swappers have the ability to swap two individuals bodies, and change the perception of reality where both individuals think that the body they are in has always been their body. Essentially, neither one of them know that they are swapped and everyone else around them thinks that has been their body the whole time.”

I stopped reading for a second and look up a Billy to see what his thoughts were about what I just read.

“ are you gonna keep going?”

“ well yeah, what do you think though?”

“ I think that’s pretty freaking cool. I mean it could be a little bit messed up, but I’m kind of interested to try it.”

“ Really? Are you 100% sure?”

“ yeah let’s do it!”

I continue to read the rest of the page and I get through all of the instructions.

“ OK Billy, now we have to find some guinea pigs.”

“ I mean, should we start with someone we know or try it with a stranger first?”

“ Well I think I controlled environment would be best. Somewhere where we cant let them walk away and lose them immediately after the swap.”

“Smart!”

“ I’m a genius right? Also, Billy, this doesn’t have to be the first one we try.”

“Wait, what else can two swappers do?”

“Do you want me to tell you about all the other swap powers or can I jump right to the one I really want to try?”

"HOW MANY MORE ARE THERE?!?"

"Let's start with this one, third party possession. Or I like to call it-- a person puppet. Basically one of us can take over someone body without leaving the one we are in habiting. It's like two bodies at once."

"Does that person know that you or I have taken over their body?"

"No... I have read this one over a couple of times now. Basically they will be in a unaware state while one of us are in control."

"Okay, I guess that one sounds less chaotic. Who should we try it on?"

I thought about it for a minute and then I had someone in mind. I peaked out at the window to see if my neighbor was home.

"I got someone who could work," I say with a mischievous grin.

“Who?”

“My neighbor Reid, you’ll like him or at least his body lol.”

“Wait am I going to possess him?!?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll like it.”

“Fuck, fine! Let’s do this!!”

I grab Billy’s or I guess my hands and say, “I want you to focus. Thinking about all of your powers almost like you’re about to swap with someone, okay?”

“Got it.”

“Now close your eyes and picture a part of yourself floating out of my body, not all of yourself… just a part.”

“Okay…”

“Can you see it?”

It takes a minute for Billy to focus but then I see our hands and they start glowing a bit.

“I can see it,” he says softly.

“Great, now picture that second half of you floating out the window to the house door.”

Billy’s closed eyes move shut.

“I’m in the neighbor’s house… I can see everything inside. Wait, I hear someone… sleeping… now I’m in his room. Holy shit! I can see him!!”

“Really?!? Now Billy this is what you’re going to do next, float into him. Doesn’t matter how you do it.”

Billy’s eyes spring open and he says, “I’m in him. I feel his body… it’s so strange Sam. I’m him and I’m me.”

“Well come on over lol!”

“Okay one sec.”

A few minutes later and our front door swings open. It’s my neighbor’s body.

“What’s up you sexy fellas!!”

I turn to Billy and then back at Reid’s body as they are both grinning cheek to cheek.

I watch as Billy coordinates Reid’s body over to a chair.

“Look at these muscles Sam!,” says Reid’s body

“Fuck this is so hot! I’m watching myself control him, it’s like I can do some kind of strange role play. Wait a minute!!”

Reid’s body tugs off his tank top and then his shoes and socks.

He stares down at the giant feet and says, “they’re big.”

I watch as he picks up foot and smells it. He rubs Reid face all over his massive foot.

“This is so wrong but I’m so turned on. You’re gonna either have to watch or join us.”

Billy still in my body walks over to the giant hunk and reaches into his shorts.

They say in unison, “that feels good.”

I was starting to get hard just watching both bodies interact. Billy started running my hands over Reid’s muscles.

He pulls off Reid shorts and underwear. His dick comes out and both of us marvel at the giant cock.

“Let’s take turns with it,” he says from Reid’s body. “Shit I meant to say that from your body!”

We both laugh and I say, “All good lol, bedroom?”

“Great idea! You fellas are gonna have fun with me aren’t you? Especially this giant cock!,” says Reid’s body standing up while shaking his dick.

“Yes sir,” I say to him.

Billy picks me up in Reid’s arms and carries me to my bed.

We all three climb in and Billy asks me, “could you tend Reid’s junk.”

“Sure!!”

I grab onto the massive dick girthy dick. It’s surprising to see just how big it is.

“Are you gonna just stare it or suck it?,” says Reid’s body.

I turn to Billy down by Reid’s feet. He’s giggling and says, “sorry, I have two hard dick right now!”

I try to take as much of Reid’s I could fit in my mouth. It’s just so big. I get the entire thing wet and use a hand to work the shaft and his big hairy balls.

Billy on the other hand pulls off my pants and begins using Reid’s feet for a foot job.

Both of them moan in unison and say, “FUCK! You have no idea how amazing this feels!!”

I pump Reid’s dick faster and faster…

Both of them moan louder and louder….

Billy in my body reaches up under his ass cheeks and fondles his my body’s cock for me.

“LET ME FINISH IN MY MOUTH PLEASE SAM!,” he screams out.

I’m forcing Billy’s throat down on Reid’s dick.

Both of them scream out, “FUCKKKKKKKK!!!!”

That’s when rounds of cum squirt down my throat. It fills my throat and I can’t take anymore.

I look down at Reid’s dick and it’s still pouring more and more out.

Billy in my body cums all over Reid’s feet both of them grinning.

I fall back on the bed and both my body and Reid’s body with Billy still in control use themselves to give me every inch of pleasure.

Billy in my body climbs to my face and start making out. He twist’s his actual body’s sensitive nipples. Meanwhile Reid’s body sucking me off and tickling Billy body’s ballsack.

I can’t only take so much before I blew my load into Reid’s mouth…

All three or two… I don’t know… we just lay back cuddled up.

I turn to Billy in my body and say, “That was amazing.”

Billy grins and says, “we are definitely going to try this again!”

#body swap #male tf #male body swap #body theft

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muletia · 1 day ago

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐜𝐡 ✧˖°

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus is uncertain about touch, fearing that he might hurt you, but with your help, he learns that touch does not have to be associated with fear

cw: mild angst, a sprinkle of fluff, soft!optimus <3

word count: 1400

Cyan optics flicker between you and the report on the datapad. Optimus reads a few sentences without distraction, absorbing the information about the amount of energon acquired and consumed this month with ease, fully capable of focusing for those few nanokliks. But a few sentences are his limit when you are nearby. His thoughts drift elsewhere, into soft, organic realms where they linger, tempting his optics to join them, to make daydreams a reality. And so they do, when the report becomes a dull memory, irritating him with its obligation, and reality becomes you — lying on your stomach on his desk, utterly engrossed in what must be a far more interesting book.

He wants to join you. To set the report aside and return to it later, once your presence is no longer a sweet distraction from his duties. Knows he has let himself slip. Once again, he wants to push work aside at the price of spending time with you, though he cannot afford indulgence. He has put it off for too long; must focus and win this battle against his own addiction. Duty — this is his current priority.

But he cannot look away, still captivated by the smallest movements of your body and its beauty. That is all he can do. Watch. That is enough. He allows himself to look for a few nanokliks, to temporarily satisfy the craving, and then return to what he must do, though he knows full well it is not enough. Optimus knows his own body, knows what it demands, pleading for physical contact with you. But reason advises otherwise, and reason prevails.

Too many dangers, too many unknowns. A fraction too much force, a single gram over the limit, and you cease to exist. You cannot die by his servo. He does not need to witness your death to know that his spark would extinguish at the very same moment. Must be cautious with you. Has learned that he may touch you when he must, but not when he wants, reducing the probability of catastrophe to a minimum. It will never be enough for him; will never be satisfied by necessity alone. But eons of being Prime have stripped him of whims and impulses and have taught him the meaning of true sacrifice. He only hoped that you understood.

Indirect touch is acceptable; that does not frighten him as much. His free servo moves above you, then lowers, forming a kind of shelter over you. It protects, it reminds, telling you that Optimus is with you and thinking of you constantly, yet it does not touch. That must be enough, he convinces himself, though it will never be. You will understand. Perhaps you will appreciate it if you wish to make him happy. But you will grasp that he cannot allow himself more, not out of lack of desire, but out of fear, though he longs unimaginably to feel your beauty, not only with his optics but beneath his own digits.

He does not deny himself the lightest graze against the edge of your foot or calf, but that is all. It is only about sending a signal: I am here. I am watching over you. Anything beyond that terrifies him because he does not know how much he can allow himself. How much force to apply before he breaks you. Yes, a mere brush is enough. He convinces himself. And he does not deserve more.

You lift your gaze from your book and meet Optimus’s optics. He offers you a subtle, endearing smile, an unspoken declaration that you have his full and undivided attention, even if you soon return to your reading.

But you do not. You warm his stoic spark instead, giving him an excellent reason to forget about the report.

"You can touch me if you want to," you break the silence.

You shift onto your side to look at him without straining your neck and place your open book to the side, marking the page with a bookmark. Propping your elbow on Optimus’s desk, you rest your head on your outstretched hand, settling into a comfortable position for the conversation you had been meaning to have with him—because, knowingly or not, he had touched upon a subject that had been weighing on your mind. And his, even more so.

"I apologize. It was not my intention to distract you."

"It’s okay, you didn’t distract me. And you can touch me. If you want to," you repeat, sending a smile his way that melts part of his spark.

He wants to. Longs to. Needs to.

But cannot.

"I fear harming you," he admits, incapable of lying when you look him straight in the optics.

"Is that why you hold back?"

"Yes," he sighs. "I have concerns that I may not be able to properly gauge my own strength. I do hope you understand my restraint regarding physical contact. I assure you, it is not your fault, my dearest."

"I understand. But you won’t hurt me," you reassure him. Yet he does not seem convinced, his optical ridges creasing slightly, uncertainty still visible in optics. "Okay, let me put it another way. Remember when I dropped my phone once? You picked it up between your fin— digits and there wasn’t a single crack. Not even a scratch! I know that from my perspective, you are unimaginably strong, but you can control your strength. You have precision. So I know that you won’t hurt me."

He processes your words in silence.

"I trust you, Optimus. More than anyone else."

That seems to break something in him. Not completely — not yet — but enough to try.

"Very well. If you truly grant me permission…"

"You may. Please." Just to emphasize that you desire this too.

You roll back onto your stomach, and his massive servo hovers above you, fighting hesitation. For a moment, you fear that you have pressured him into physical contact, pulling him out of a comfort zone he was not yet ready to leave, but your worries vanish when Optimus chooses to lower his servo, leaving the restraint on the surface.

His large digits envelop your back and remain there, servo holding still in one place. His touch is incredibly subtle and measured, but the hesitation remains. The fear he cannot yet overcome, even when faced with the exceptional softness of human skin, tempting to sink deeper, to explore everything you have to offer as a human. But he refuses to be enslaved by temptation when he is still on edge. Cannot harm you. He must be careful. That is enough; he dares not ask for more.

Optimus does not tremble with stress, no visible signs of anxiety appear on his frame, but the title of Prime binds him to outward composure in tense situations. Inside, chaos reigns. He sees no sign of discomfort on you, no grimace of pain, nor do you make any sounds that might suggest suffering, which should reassure him. But he cannot be at ease when worries churn in his processor. Am I pressing too hard? Pinning them down? He is grateful for your trust, but he cannot trust himself. Needs certainty that he is not about to kill you by accident.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Better than alright," you murmur. "Like someone wrapped me in a warm, giant weighted blanket."

"That is… a pleasant sensation?"

"Wonderful." You reach up, stroking the nearest digit. "It’s alright, Opti. You’re not hurting me."

"I trust you," he says, and you gift him a smile he cannot help but return.

"So? Do I feel nice to the touch?"

"You always do. Thank you for placing your trust in me." Because even though his fears still gnaw at him, for the first time, he does not ache for touch. Finally, he can stop wondering, stop dreaming about what he once thought were unattainable desires, and instead focus on the here and now. He reaches for the datapad and resumes reading the report, discovering how clear his processor has become now that his longing has found its grounding in your presence.

"Thank you for allowing yourself something nice for once," you reply and return to your book, wrapped in safety and warmth unmatched by any other source.

#transformers x reader #optimus x reader #optimus prime x reader #obsessed!optimus

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woozinhos · 2 days ago

Note

Hii can I request for pregnancy sex with jeonghan?

Notes: guys I’m so back this is great! This was so cute to write enjoy!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Jeonghan watches you as you move around the house, your pregnant belly prominent. He can't help but feel a surge of desire every time he looks at you, but he's hesitant to act on it.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asks for the third time that day, concern etched on his face. You smile at him and nod, placing a hand on your belly. "I'm fine, Jeonghan. The baby and I are both healthy." Jeonghan lets out a sigh of relief, but his eyes still linger on your stomach. He's been struggling to control his urges, wanting nothing more than to take you right then and there.

As the day goes on, Jeonghan becomes more and more restless. He finds himself constantly touching you, his hands roaming over your body as if he can't get enough of you. You can sense Jeonghan's growing need, but you don't comment on it. You know he's been holding back, afraid of hurting you or the baby. As the evening draws near, Jeonghan finally can't take it anymore. He pulls you onto his lap, his hands resting on your thighs.

"I need you," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

"I know," you reply, a hint of amusement in your voice. "I could tell." Jeonghan groans and buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. "You have no idea how much I've been wanting you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin.

"I'm scared," Jeonghan admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to hurt you or the baby." He pulls back to look at you, his eyes filled with worry. "What if we do something that's not safe for the baby?"

You cup his face in your hands, your expression gentle. "Jeonghan, we'll be careful. We can figure it out together." Jeonghan looks at you for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay," he says, his hands moving to your waist. "But you have to promise to tell me if anything feels uncomfortable or wrong." Jeonghan carefully helps you into bed, making sure you're comfortable before he climbs in beside you. He pulls you close to him, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks again, his voice laced with concern. You nod, leaning into his touch. "I want this, Jeonghan. I want you." Jeonghan takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. It has been a while since he's been intimate with you, and the thought of it is both exciting and terrifying.

"I just... I don't want to disappoint you," he says, his voice shaking slightly.

"You could never disappoint me," you reassure him, running your fingers through his hair. "I love you, Jeonghan. No matter what."

L Jeonghan closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. "I love you too," he whispers, his heart racing in his chest. "I just want to make you feel good." Jeonghan slowly undresses, his eyes never leaving yours. He's acutely aware of the changes in your body as you watch him, and it only fuels his desire further.

Once he's completely naked, he stands there for a moment, letting you take him in. You can't help but admire his toned body, your eyes roaming over every inch of him. He's still just as beautiful as the day you met him, and you feel a rush of affection for him. Jeonghan moves closer to you, his hands tracing the contours of your body. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his lips finding yours in a deep kiss. Jeonghan takes his time undressing you, being careful not to put any pressure on your stomach. He peels away each piece of clothing, his hands roaming over your skin as he exposes more of you to him.

"You're glowing," he says, his eyes darkening with lust. "Absolutely gorgeous." Jeonghan takes a moment to compose himself, trying to control his desire. He positions himself between your legs, his hands on your thighs.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" he says, his voice low and gravelly. You nod, biting your lip in anticipation. Jeonghan slowly pushes into you, his eyes locked on yours as he watches for any signs of discomfort.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice strained. You take a deep breath, adjusting to the feeling of him inside you. "I'm okay," you say, your voice shaky. "Just... go slow." Jeonghan nods, his movements slow and deliberate. He keeps a close eye on your face, looking for any signs of pain or discomfort. As Jeonghan continues to move, he starts to relax a bit more. The feeling of being inside you is overwhelming, and he can't help but let out a low moan.

"You feel so good," he whispers, his fingers digging into your thighs. "I've missed this." You moan in response, arching your back as he hits a sensitive spot. "Jeonghan... harder." Jeonghan's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly complies with your request. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming deeper and more forceful.

"That's it, baby," he groans, his hips snapping against yours. "Take it. You're doing so well." He leans down to capture your lips in a messy kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he loses himself in the moment. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body tensing with pleasure. Jeonghan senses it too, and he reaches down to rub your clit with his thumb.

"Come for me," he urges, his voice rough with need. "Let go, sweetheart." It doesn't take long for you to reach your climax, your body shaking as you cry out his name. Jeonghan follows soon after, his own release spilling inside you. Jeonghan moans loudly as he cums, his body trembling against yours. He buries his face in your neck, riding out the waves of pleasure as he fills you up.

Once he's done, he stays there for a moment, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure. "God, I needed that," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You smile and run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling of him still inside you. "Me too," you say softly. Jeonghan lifts his head to look at you, a look of pure adoration in his eyes. "I love you so much," he says, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for letting me do this with you." Jeonghan pulls out of you and quickly rolls onto his side, apologizing to your stomach. "I'm sorry, baby," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your belly. "Daddy didn't mean to get so carried away."

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moonydoodlez · 3 days ago

Text

Little White Lies

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Reader smells something that's vaguely familiar in the Amortentia but can't quite figure out who it is.

Warnings: Use of y/n twice

Wordcount: 1,149

A/n: Reg, Barty, Evan, and reader are all not friends with snape or mulciber

Hogwarts at spring was always your favorite. The bright sun warming your skin, lovely meadows dotted with flowers. Classes always seemed a little easier, everything just felt lighter.

You longingly stared out the window you were sat next to. Fingers tediously playing the with quill that was in your hands, destined to stain your fingers black. God was it too perfect of a day to waste inside.

A few giggles surrounding you suddenly broke you out of your daze. Your eyes darted around the room when suddenly they fell on Professor Slughorn. His eyebrow cocked up and a playful glare on his face.

"Am i bothering your nap time" He jokes. "Or shall I continue"

"Yeah sorry" You smile nervously, setting your quill back down on the table and adjusting your position to actually pay attention this time.

"Like I was saying Potter and y/l/n" He reads off your names, before just as quickly moving onto the next pair.

Your head whipped to the left to find James and the rest of the marauders already glaring daggers into your head. You weren't one to hate many people, despite what nonsense the green that adorned your body put into peoples head.

James and his co marauders however had become the exception over the years. You had never spent much time with them but you were one of the many who were prime targets for their pranks.

The first two years of school you managed to get away from their mischievousness, and you even thought it was funny. Especially when they went after Snape and Mulciber. Who even you could agree were utter twats.

However when you became friends with Regulus, Barty, and Evan you began getting lumped into the 'bad slytherins' group. Which was weird considering Barty wasn't even in your house.

Time had passed and everyone had expected the boys to get over their childish antics. Yet even in your sixth year they seemed to cause a daily quarrel amongst everyone.

You sighed and look back down at your quill and parchment, wanting to no longer think about the boys who were definitely still staring at you.

"Can anyone tell me what this is" Professor Slughorn asks, pointing at the large cauldron with a bubbling pink liquid.

A Ravenclaw who sat next to you quickly shot her hand up answering.

"Good, yes it's amortentia" He smiles proudly. "Does anyone know what it does, and or the side effects of it" His eyes trail around the classroom before finally landing in you. "Y/n"

"It's a love potion but it causes obsession not love" You answer making sure to keep your answer short and concise.

In the corner of your eyes you could see blonde curls shaking around. Your eyes wandered to Evan smiling putting both thumbs up. You tilted your head at him giving him a confused smile. What a weirdo that one was.

"Correct, it also is extremely powerful" He adds. "Now if everyone would please find their assigned partners we can get started.

You waited until the majority had already found their new spots before stalking to the other side of the room where James was standing looking into the bubbling cauldron.

"Goodluck" Barty smiled pushing his shoulder into yours as he walked by. You were going to need a lot more than luck. A gun maybe.

"Potter" You snarled looking up at the boy.

"I don't want to be around you any less than you don't want to be around me" He looked up and down slowly before his eyes settled on the front of the classroom.

"Alright now I want everyone to smell what's in their cauldrons and discuss what it is you smell" He smiled. "However do no drink it or touch it, or anything that seems stupid" He added.

Nobody missed the pointed looks that found their ways to the marauders from others in the class and Professor Slughorn.

You watched James lean slowly in closing his eyes as he took a whiff of the potion. Slowly pushing his messy curls back in precaution. You hated to admit it but you understood why girls seemed to flock to him.

His lips parted for a moment before his eyes opened again.

"What are you smiling at" He huffed staring at you.

You quickly straightened up, your slight smile dropping as quickly as it had formed.

"Move let me smell" You grunted slightly pushing him out of the way. Closing your eyes you inhaled the scent.

Broom polish, tangerines, and a faint smell of what you think is coconut oil.

You pulled away, a slight frown on your face, the smell felt so familiar like it was something you had smelled a million times. It felt like you should've been able to guess it instantly. Yet you couldn't

"What did you smell" James asks. Moving his hands to the table and leaning a little closer to you.

For a moment you're confused because he almost actually seems interested in what you have to say. God were you tempted to tell him but who were you if not petty.

"Tell me yours first" You challenge.

James began saying the first thing he smelled before Sirius laughed loudly and there was a large noise from behind and suddenly James was no longer by your side.

You rolled your eyes giving one last smell. Letting the flavors mix and you felt so close to figuring out who it was.

When suddenly like a bird hitting a window, it hit you.

Shit.

...

"He is so infuriating i don't know how i am going to be able to stand him for the rest of another year" You groan throwing yourself onto Barty's bed.

"You could always murder him" He suggests, not a single ounce of sarcasm in tone or face.

"Yes Bartimaeus that is a wonderful idea, thankyou for your input" You sarcastically smile at the boy before it instantly falls.

"It's okay babe you tried to help" Evan smiles sympathetically at Barty who is wiping fake tears from his eyes. "We can murder someone another time" He coos, rubbing his hand up and down his back.

You rolled your eyes, covered your face with a blanket to block out the light. You heard footsteps before there was a dip at the end of the bed. The smell of expensive cologne filled your sense as you closed your eyes.

"You know it could be worse, you could've been paired up with my brother" Regulus added.

"Well I guess that's true" You replied.

"So what exactly did you smell" Evan asked before rolling over on top of Barty and stuffing his head into the boys sweatshirt.

"Oh um i don't really remember" You giggled nervously.

They all looked at you, a weird look on their faces. One that clearly read that none of them believed you.

"Hmm must've been Snape" Barty laughed.

taglist: @chososrightpigtail

Masterlist James Potter Masterlist

#bbgwrites #ive had this written for so long and never ever posted it #marauders #the marauders #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter oneshot #marauders oneshot #marauders era oneshsot #james potter x reader fic #james potter fic

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totallynotashieldagent · 3 days ago

Note

Hey! I saw the valentines event and thought I’d request #2 for Damian if possible. I adore ur writing btw ❤️

💕valentine's day drabble special💕

This was supposed to be just an undercover mission. That's it. It was supposed to be an easy in-and-out thing. Pretend to be dignitaries at this masquerade ball, gather intel and then leave. Don't make contact with anyone, stick together, and simply observe.

However, all that had gone to fucking shit the moment one of Bialya's Senators had put his hand on your hip, pulling you a little too close for comfort and tried to get a dance with you.

The next thing you knew was that Damian was throwing a punch and both of you were making a run for it.

And now, you were hiding in a supply closet, bathed in absolute darkness because Damian had to be a chivalrous gentleman.

"What was I supposed to do?" He tutted. Even in the absolute dark, his green eyes seemed to almost glow. "Mother taught me that if a man touches your woman, that hand should be cut off. You're lucky I only broke his nose."

"That's not the point!" You hissed, "You almost blew our cover and extraction is still 20 minutes away."

"You will not tell me to not defend your honour!" He whispered angrily.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. You knew this was a bad idea. Coming here- Doing this mission with your boyfriend. You knew you should've come with Bart or -

Your thoughts were interrupted as the noise outside the door suddenly grew loud. You pulled away from the door and Damian pushed you behind himself. His body taut with his battle-ready stance if anyone came through. Your hands were clenched at his waist, pulling out a weapon from his person. Whilst he was a master assassin, trained in every way possible of fighting. You still needed a blade or a gun.

The noise soon faded and his body slowly relaxed.

After a few beats of silence, you spoke. "I'm not saying don't defend me. But where's the boy who tore down people with words?" You ran your fingers through his hair, fixing the pieces into place. "You didn't have to punch him."

"Tt- I know." He sighed, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. "I thought I grew out of that instinct but when I saw his hand on you, all I saw was red, habibit." He pressed a gentle chaste kiss below your ear. That was as much of an apology as you were ever going to get.

Damian's arms wrapped around your waist and he took a deep breath. One hand was the small of your back, the other trying to find the edge of your dress.

"Dami... What are you doing?" You asked softly with no intention of stopping him. You looked at your watch. Extraction was still 15 minutes out.

"Nothing, azizum." His tone was still so nonchalant. As if his rough hand wasn't slowly working it's way up your thigh.

"We really shouldn't be doing this..." You whispered, letting him hoist you up. Your legs wrapping at his waist as it was the most natural thing to do.

"Mhmm- We really shouldn't." He agreed but his mouth was on your neck. "How long until extraction?" He licked a stripe across your throat.

You gasped, your nails digging into his suit jacket. Fuck. What was the question? You tried hard to focus and looked at the watch again.

"12 minutes." You swallowed, meeting his gaze.

"We can make it work." He smiled, "If you don't make noise."

#valentine's day drabble special #no proofread #damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian al ghul wayne #damian wayne x reader #dc #anon ask #request drabble #habibit is my dear in arabic #azizum is my dear in persian #adult!damian wayne

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lokicraft · 10 hours ago

Text

Cod thoughtssssss. Inspired by @beloveds-embrace ‘s harpy Gaz + wingless reader concept

CW: kinda angsty with talk of Simon’s past and serious injuries

In a winged!AU, where everyone’s wings are based on real birds and such, some people view those with crow or raven wings as bad luck or cursed or otherwise undesirable. Cliché start, I understand 😅.

So our boy Simon grows up with his past, abuse amplified by his pitch black wings. Escapes to the military where wings are seen as an asset, and his powerful dark ones make him amazing at stealth. Through being with TF 141, he sees his wings as tools to protect his flock, and he grows to like them. Soap also helps by telling him how much he loves his LT’s beautiful black wings: “It’s like looken at th’night sky ye ken?” Oh yeah there’s definitely poly 141 in here, I love me some winged found family vibes.

And then he finds you.

Maybe on a random night out on the town after a mission. Maybe on a mission and you are a hostage. Maybe you are a specialist coming to base to share info. Or to teach a class. Or just to fix the dammed printer.

It doesn’t matter, because he sees you.

You, who doesn’t have your wings out (totally normal, for a variety of reasons people like to be more private). You, who he knows is just like him. He just knows. It’s in the way you hold yourself, the way you shy away from looking at other people’s wings. The way you subconsciously act like you are lesser than others, because that is what the world has beaten into you. He knows. And he sees the rest. Sees how kind and thoughtful and beautiful and genuine you are. Sees how you show love to the world and the people around you. Sees how smart and funny you are, whether you are fighting with the printer, or fighting for your life. And he kinda falls in love right on the spot.

He courts you. Tries to do it as properly as he can. Introduces you to his flock. They see how much Simon loves you and, through dinner dates and baking cookies and just simply hanging out with you more and more, they fall in love with you too.

And you, despite your best efforts, fall in love too.

You can’t say no to these men. They are charming, honest, handsome, intelligent, irresistible. And even though Simon is still the most mysterious of the bunch, you know him.

You know him because you were just like him once, with beautiful black wings. And every time you look at that man, and you see his wings, proudly splayed in private and public settings alike, your heart soars and crashes simultaneously. You see in Simon the best of humanity, how people can grow to love and protect and live even when they’ve been buried in the darkest pits of the past. You also see what was taken from you. You are reminded of the night where humanity showed you its worst face. In your ass-backwards home town in a country across the sea, where the bigotry of the people you grew up with reached its boiling point. When you were held down and “cut loose of the curse you bring to our homes”. When you lost your wings.

And eventually the boys see you. All of you. And they love you all the more.

They are your protectors, your loyal soldiers, your wings. And you are their reason to fight, their guiding light, their heart and soul.

And it takes a while to get there. You enchant them, and heal them, and give them a home. And they break down your walls, comfort you, and love you like you always deserved.

And who knows if I’ll ever be able to put this in to more words, but at least it’s out there now.

#cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #poly tf141 #tf 141 #LC writes

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hy6erion · 11 hours ago

Note

hii! can i request a enemies viktor x busty!reader with viktor who simply can’t stop thinking about her and her curves despite how much he ‘dislikes’ her? It’s okay if u ignore dw!!

𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 ??? - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮...𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⇢ 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐢𝐝𝐤, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐦𝐠 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲

Viktor hates you. His rival. His most infuriating, insufferable, arrogant competitor.

The one person in Piltover who dares to challenge him intellectually, who dares to match him, outthink him, beat him in debates, make him second-guess his own ideas.

You're brilliant, cunning, ambitious-and Viktor loathes you for it.

But worse than that? You're fucking gorgeous.

It would be easier if you were plain.

If he didn't have to sit across from you during research symposiums, watching the way your tight blouse strains against your tits, the soft swell of them pushed up so fucking perfectly that it makes his fingers twitch.

If he didn't have to endure your sharp, smug little smirk whenever you outwit him, those plush lips that he wants to bruise with his teeth.

If you didn't cross your arms while arguing, pushing your tits up just enough to make it impossible for him to focus on anything you're saying.

Viktor hates you.

And yet, every fucking night, he's in his room, his cock in his hand, desperately trying to rid himself of the thoughts that consume him.

He tells himself he shouldn't.

That he should be above this-above stroking himself raw to the thought of his most hated rival, above gritting his teeth as he spills onto his own stomach, panting your name like a desperate man.

But the moment he closes his eyes, it's over.

Because he's not imagining some theoretical victory over you, some intellectual triumph.

No, he's picturing you on your knees, tits spilling out of your blouse, your smug little smirk finally wiped away as you look up at him, your lips wet, waiting for his cock.

He's imagining gripping those thick thighs, spreading you open, dragging his tongue over your dripping cunt just to hear you gasp his name.

He's thinking about bending you over his desk, pushing that tight little skirt up around your waist, fucking you so hard you forget every single theory you've ever argued against him.

Of holding you down, making you take it, ruining you with slow, brutal thrusts until your thighs shake and your breathy moans turn into desperate, needy whimpers.

Of stuffing you full, watching his cum drip from your wrecked little hole, knowing that no one else will ever get to have you like this.

It's sick. He's sick.

But it doesn't stop him from groaning your name, his hips jerking as he comes into his own hand, his body shuddering with the force of it.

And then?

Then he curses you, because even after spilling his seed to the thought of you, he still fucking wants more.

He hates seeing other men look at you.

At the academy, he sees the way men stare at you.

How they let their eyes linger too long on your tits, your hips, the softness of your thighs.

And it makes his blood fucking boil.

Because those idiots don't deserve to look at you.

They don't know how badly you need to be put in your place, how easily he could break you, how quickly he could wipe that arrogance from your face with his hands on your body.

He hates them for looking.

But he hates himself more for the way his cock twitches in his trousers every time you throw him a smug little glance, completely oblivious to the depraved fucking things he's thinking about you.

One day, he's going to snap.

One day, he's going to stop holding back.

One day, he's going to pin you against the nearest surface, drag you onto his lap, and fuck you until the only words coming out of your perfect little mouth are pleas for more.

He's going to tear that blouse open, finally touch those perfect, soft tits, squeeze them, bite them, watch them bounce as he fucks into you.

He's going to make you come so many times you forget how to argue, so many times you finally understand that you were never actually his rival—

You were just his.

And when he finally buries himself inside you, when he finally watches you tremble beneath him, wrecked and breathless and begging for more?

Maybe then, he'll finally be satisfied.

Maybe.

But for now?

For now, he'll just grit his teeth, curl his fingers into fists beneath the table, and pray to the gods that you never figure out just how fucking badly he wants to ruin you.

#✰⍣ 𝐡𝐲𝟔𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 #x reader #arcane #arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #arcane smut #arcane x reader smut #viktor x female reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader smut #viktor x you #viktor #arcane viktor x reader smut

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lydiasfalling · 2 days ago

Text

PINS AND NEEDLES

percy jackson x athena!reader

➸✧˖*°࿐ taglist : open!

˗ˋˏ warnings : use of y/n, post breakup, angst, possible part two??? ˎˊ-

‧₊˚✧ lydia’s yap fest ! ✧˚₊‧

post breakup yearning? sign me up. also i’ve never ever written athena reader cause it feels too much like writing myself and i don’t want to project but i hope u guys enjoy!!! (unedited!)

it had been exactly three weeks, two days, and six hours since you and percy jackson had broken up. now, while it pained you to admit, you missed him. your friends would tell you that you couldn’t miss him. not when you had left him the way you did. truth is, life as a demigod was hard. having no guarantees that you would even be alive tomorrow was a hard pill to swallow. it had gotten to a point where it felt wrong to give percy another weight on his back. he was already under the pressure of saving the world, he didn’t need a relationship to balance on it.

first came the arguing. it had become a staple for the recent era of your relationship. you would bring up the idea of taking a break, which he would turn down. he refused to hear you out whatsoever. then came the silent treatment. he couldn’t stand how every time you’d spoken, you would flip it back to the topic of breaking up. he thought better to just ignore the problem all together. finally, came the blow up. you two had found a rare moment of peace amongst the war. his fingered takes through your wet hair as you laid on his lap. you had again decided to bring up the topic again. the resulted in the fight. breaking up wasn’t easy, but something you saw necessary.

now, you paced in your cabin. these past few weeks had been a personal tartarus for you ( and you assumed percy, or he-who-shall-not-be-named ). every little thing reminded you of him. the smell of the lake you’d spend hours swimming in. the fields you would run through hand-in-hand. the bed you would spend hours having—well, you get the point. every corner held a memory. this realization made you want to rip your scalp clean off.

however, no matter how much you would deny it, you were still hopelessly in-love with perseus jackson. watching him from a far made you realize just how lucky you had been to call him yours. the beauty of his soul was one you wish could be captured and put in a jar for everyone to admire. the selfish part of you wanted that jar on your nightstand. you decided now was the time. you would finally leave the comfort of your cabin and venture into the camp. your siblings were sure that you were aware how many times percy had asked them about you. he told them to make sure you got proper care since he couldn’t be the one to do so. you knew he’d be happy to see you getting dressed to leave.

“y/n? you coming?” your sister had asked you. it was just about to be lunch.

“mhm. give me one moment.” the mirror showed you what you had dread seeing. heavy purple bags laid under your eyes. your cheeks seemed hollow. people would argue that you couldn’t be sad since you broke up with him, but they didn’t understand. you and percy were—by definition—joined at the hip. you did everything together. now the color had been drained out of usually exciting things.

“any day now.” you joined your sister at the doorframe, stepping out into the sun. the aroma of camp consumed your senses, putting you at a momentary state of ease. this ended soon as you felt the formalist presence of a certain brunette boy. his aura was contagious. you could feel him radiating half way across the world. however, he was unusually dull. turning around, you finally came face to face with percy.

“i. . . uh. . . hi, ang—y/n. didn’t see ya there.” even in the awkward atmosphere, he still managed to bring your shoulders down and your brows to relax.

“mhm. . .” you didn’t truly speak, scared of what would leave your mouth. you quickly turned back around and began to shuffle away. percy hand caught your wrist in record time.

“can we, ya know, talk? i don’t think i got to say my piece when everything went down.” he kept his hand on your skin, goosebumps trailing up your arm at the feeling. you ripped you arm away as if the touch had burned you.

“now’s not a great time.”

“okay, well, when is a good time?” he shifted on his heels

“sometime. . . other. . . than now?” you said, though it sounded more like a question to both of you.

“what happened?” he questioned, an exasperated look coming over his features.

“what?” you asked.

“to us! what happened to us? i mean. . .fuck, y/n. i was in love with you. scratch that. i am in love with you. and im trying really. really hard to respect your decision. but how can i? how can i walk past you every single day knowing im so beyond in love with i can’t even function? i cant even think about battle anymore. it’s you. you occupy every thought from the moment i wake up to the moment i fall to sleep. it’s painful.”

“it’s for the best.” you whispered.

“bullshit! i think you’re just scared!” his volume increased, causing other campers to turn in your direction.

“lower your voice, percy.” you smiled at everyone, hoping they would stop listening. “like i said, this really isn’t a good time.” you left soon after those words left your mouth, not allowing him any time to protest.

“y/n!” he called after you. you simply pretended not to hear it as you re-entered your cabin, slamming the door behind you.

taglist : @laufeysvalentine @cowboylikemac @lydiascabinsix @raysmayhem-72

my masterlist

#lydiasfalling #lydia’s thoughts ₊˚.༄#real #percy jackson #x reader #pjo #percy jackson x reader #he’s so pretty #i fucking adore percy jackson #percy jackson x you #percy jackson blurb #percy pjo #percy x reader #pins and needles #i love percy jackson #percy jackson angst

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mistymisfit · 8 hours ago

Text

How they met

summary: When Poison Ivy takes Gotham's central park hostage reader gets stuck with Red Hood and accidentally saves him.

warnings: mentions of reader being shorter than Jason, reader uses glasses, mentions of reader wearing a skirt, smoking, and this.

wc: 3,8k

It was just a matter of time of living in Gotham until you got stuck on a situation like this. You have to have the worst luck in the city because, on the day you finally give in and agree to dog-sit for a friend, Poison Ivy decides to show up when you take her on a walk. Of course, the dog was no idiot and ran away a while ago at the first sight of danger, so now you were stuck here in Gotham's central park. You have to admit you're not as scared as you should be, however you were getting mildly annoyed at hanging upside down with a vine holding you by your ankles. At least you could be glad it wasn't the joker.

It was a common topic of conversations late at night with your friends when you seem to run out of things to discuss, debating which Gotham rouge attack you could survive as a hostage. This topic was only second to "Which vigilante would you rather have to save you?", that one allowed for more rambling over who you thought was hottest. Still, no pointless drunk debate could prepare you for when it actually happened.

"Hey, excuse me, miss" You said when you watched her walk past and she stopped almost amused that you'd dare to speak to her "I understand that you're part plant, right?"

"That'd be correct" She paid close attention to you, she was intrigued by the fact that the effects of her "sleeping pollen" worn off fast unlike the other hostages next to you. You were supposed to be passed out for around 5 hours more, after all her pheromones never failed.

"Yeah, so, the rest of us are human" You tried to be as polite as you could so she wouldn't crush you to death "So could you please put us down, I'm getting a headache from having my head upside down"

She didn't say anything but agreed, the vines gently leaving you and the others on the grass before quickly wrapping you again. As you felt less and less dizzy, you could pay more attention to your surroundings. The concrete trail was shattered, plants breaking it from growing over it, the closest bench was split in half, and a water fountain was removed from the ground, water leaking from where it used to be. Though your vision is blurry since you lost your glasses from hanging upside down, you can still tell that next to you were the mother and daughter you saw seconds before it all went down. The mother chased after her daughter, demanding her to not go that far away from her. Then your friend's dog, the king Charles spaniel you only agreed to take care of because she was cute, ran away and you went after her. Next thing you know, a vine wraps around you and you're hanging from your ankles, no dog in sight. When did all of this happen? And how in broad daylight?

You heard a cracking noise and thought, "oh, no, were those my glasses?". Your head turned to see ruthless vigilante Red Hood picking up your glasses from the floor, or at least you think that is what he's picking up. It sounded much like broken glass. He could tell by the disappointment on your face that they were yours, so he quickly moved in silence getting closer to you.

"Sorry" He whispered, cleaning them up a little bit with against his red vest. He gently put them back on your face, and you nearly blushed at his hands brushing against your face.

"It's okay," You lied. You couldn't be mad at him for it, but you could dwell on how expensive it would be to fix them.

"I'll get you out of here." He promised, his voice was still low, not knowing if she was close enough to hear him. He started cutting through the vines to set you free.

"Sure" If you could've shrugged, you would have.

"Sure?" He repeated, offended. He wasn't expecting you to be overcome by joy by seeing him there, he's realistic, but you could show more gratitude. Even if he crushed your glasses.

"Or you could leave me here to die," You deadpanned, you must've been in this city for too long if this wasn't fazing you "so I don't have to turn in that essay on Monday"

"I won't," He quips back, finally breaking through and helping you throw the plants from you.

"Well, at least you're not a cop"

"Good to know I'm a step above them" He was beginning to wonder when was the last time he met a hostage so talkative as he worked cutting the vines that held the little girl captive. She lumped forward, still unconscious as you caught her, holding her until he could free her mom.

"Several steps, really" You corrected "You won't remember them, but you rescued my neighbors' daughter after she went missing for four months"

"Who? Zoey?" You were both surprised, you over the fact that he could recall her name, and him that you knew that. Those kinds of stories never made the news, or if they did, they never mentioned him if it was going to paint him in a good light. "How's she doing?"

"Yeah, she's better now"

Once he managed to cut through the last vine, he picked her up like it was nothing. You looked away trying to push down how attractive you found that. He guided you, signaling to stay quiet on what you hoped would be a way out of the dome she had created. And just when you thought you're out of trouble, a plant wrapped once more around your leg, dragging you and Red Hood back in. As twigs and being dragged through the floor scratched your arms and your face, you couldn't help but think, Why me? and that at least in that rough motion you dropped the girl, and the paramedics running your way would take her and the other woman.

This time, she was not as merciful, a thicker and stronger vine entrapped you both together with your back pressed against his chest. He tried putting his arms in front of you to stop the vine from getting tighter around you, but you're quicker than him in realizing what could happen.

"Stop, stop," you swatted his forearm lightly to get his attention; "it'll break your arms"

You were surprised to see him listen, and he put his arms back to his sides. You could tell he was trying to be as respectful as he could in this situation, trying to avoid touching you even if your butt was pressed impossibly close to him.

"Hood?" You asked nervously, feeling something pressed against you. "That is a gun, right?"

"I'm flattered, sweetheart." He chuckled, "It's a 9 millimeter, but don't worry safety's on"

"Uh-huh" You acknowledged his response, more worried about not panicking at the thought of being squeezed to death. It didn't occur to you earlier that you might die today. Well, it did, you just didn't have to accept it until then. In your desperation you tried wriggling your arms out, at least to get some room to breathe. The binding plant was right above your waist, constricting your lungs.

"Stop squirming like that."

"Sorry, I-"You gasped, on the verge of tears "god, what if I die? My friends won't have anything to say at my funeral"

"Hey, take a deep breath." You felt his hands on your hips, his thumb gently tracing circles on your back as the rest of his hand kept you in place, grounding you. It was comforting; he was trying to make you feel better, and you appreciated the thought. He leaned down his head until his forehead rested on top of your head "You are not dying, okay?"

"Okay," you repeated, your voice weak but less panicked.

"Besides, if we're having a bad funeral competition, I'd beat you for sure" He joked, trying to distract you "What were you doing here?"

"I uhm, I was walking my friend's dog, she's out of town for her sister's wedding"

"What's it called?"

"Anne Boneyn" Your response was met with a full belly laugh from him, it's almost contagious as you had to push your lips together and hold back a smile to avoid joining him.

"I'm sorry, whose idea was it?"

"Mine," you blushed, "only because she named my cat Joan D'cat"

He laughed again, and if you weren't scared for your life, you wouldn't have known how to feel about him so close to you.

"Wait until you hear about my other friend's turtle, Mary Shelley" You added inciting his laugh once more. It was a bit of a contradiction to see a man you know for a fact has killed many people before laughing this much over bad puns, but you felt flustered and a little proud that you were able to do that.

"I'll tell you something; when we get out of this, I'll help you find Anne, hopefully with her head still attached," He offered.

"Hey" You laughed "that's not helping "

As your laughs died down and you were reminded of his hands still on you, you started to wonder if Red Hood was single, you'd kill him if he was your boyfriend and found out he had a moment like this with another girl. You have to stop yourself from getting even more delusional, this was probably a random Thursday for him, and you had no reason to feel bad or even jealous of an hypothetical girlfriend. You brushed off how he made you feel, attributing it to either the adrenaline of the moment or the fact that he's quite attractive and you haven't had any contact with a guy in a while. You really couldn't help but grow a little crush on him when he's so reassuring, telling you that you'll be okay

Then you hear steps, both of you suddenly going quiet. You could see some plants moving, but not her or any other vigilante, though the latter would surprise you more since you heard Red Hood usually works on his own, and you've seen a few news articles of him and Batman beating the shit out of each other.

"We're far from Crime Alley, Red Hood" You could finally make out where she was through a cracked lens, was she always that green? or was her skin changing?

"I just happened to be in the neighborhood" He replied before whispering:"Try to distract her"

She made a face of what you could only describe as disdain, and she was about to leave when he nudged you to get her attention. If you could turn back, you would've shoot him an exasperated "what the fuck do you want me to do?" look. You grunted from the vine getting tighter and decided to do as he said.

"Can I ask you something?" You rolled your eyes at what you said, anyone with a quick wit would've told you that you already had. "Why the whole display of power in the middle of the city?"

"Why?"

"Yeah, don't get me wrong, I agree with the whole men are killing the planet thing" You took a deep breath and she noticed, loosening a bit the vines so you could talk "But why the park? It's the only place people in this city get to see some green... besides the botanical gardens, but we are right next to them."

"Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"No I-uhm, I'm just saying you got the target wrong" You quickly added before you made it worse "You know it's not the average person that's killing nature?"

"It's men's greed that is killing the planet"

"Still, in a shorter run, you'll get better results if you aim higher," You reasoned "You should go after the factory outside the city that's been polluting the water, or the biggest oil company you can find, or-"

"Hm," You were both surprised to see her actually think about it "I suppose I could try"

What? You were just rambling, trying to buy time for whatever plan Red Hood's got. You were not expecting her to take your suggestions seriously, and neither was him when he whispered a "what the fuck?" under his breath. Once she starts walking away and turns your back to you two you quickly move your head, shooting him a look that asks the very same question he had.

"And don't even try following me," she warned, you knew that was for the vigilante behind you. You were not going anywhere that isn't your own bedroom after this "my plants will let you go in half an hour"

You were at a loss for what to do for all that time stuck there, hopefully you could free yourselves faster. Though you wouldn't mind spending the time with him. You mentally scolded yourself for thinking like that, you needed to stop being so delusional. Lucky for you, he did have a plan, so as soon as the grip lessened up, he was able to get his arms out and cut off the vines.

"Are you going after her?"

"Nah, sounds more like the bat's problem to me" He shrugged, " 'sides I promised to help you find Anne"

He kept up that promise, he helped you call out and look for your friend's dog until you found her—alive and with her head still on her neck. You figured it took you around the same time you would've been trapped had he not cut you off earlier. Saying goodbye to him was surprisingly awkward, as if he didn't want to leave either. At least until he noticed a few police officers, then he really made a run for it, but not without waving as he left.

He nagged himself for that, letting his guard down that fast when a pretty girl was nice to him. Then reprimanded himself even more when the urge to find you got too intense and ended up investigating you. And felt equal parts, bad for watching you and relieved to find out you didn't have a boyfriend. Told himself it was for your safety when he made sure you got home safe late at night, and convinced himself he was doing you a favor when he fed your cat on the balcony when you were out or sleeping.

"Fuck," Is all that left your lips when he fell on the floor. Where did he even come from? You were looking at the city lights, distracted, when you heard someone stumbling and grunting.

When you turned to see the very same vigilante who you met a few weeks ago, saying you were shocked fell short. It's rare that you ran into him once, but twice? That's got to be luck-- or its opposite. His muzzle was shattered, God knows where the rest of the pieces fell, he was also covered in blood and holding his side as he tried to sit up. You managed to move amidst the initial surprise, and leave your cigarette on the ashtray to help him up.

"Hey, are you okay?" You asked, guiding his back to rest against the wall.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine," He repeated, as if he was not only trying to convince you but also himself, "It isn't my blood"

"You sure?" The way your hands lingered on his form did not go unnoticed, not that he minded at all.

"I'm just bruised," He explained before looking up. Of course, he'd end up at your building, and just by chance, you happened to hang out on your rooftop. "It's you again"

"Yeah, It's me" You held back a smile, he remembers you? You'd thought by now your face would've phased out of his memories, mixed along with the other people he must have helped.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here-"You rolled your eyes, avoiding the real reason to be at a rooftop at 4 am. You could tell his eyes lingered on yours even under the mask before he looked up and saw the ashtray on the ledge. With renewed energy he got up, still using the wall to help himself. "Wait!"

He raised an eyebrow, and before he could make any witty comment, you beat him to it.

"I only do it when I'm stressed, okay? Not that I owe you any explanation"

"I get it," He sighed, reaching out for the pack and getting one out of the little box "You mind?"

You shook your head no, handing him your lighter. You watched him drop the broken muzzle and take the first drag with so much attention you had to tell yourself to stop being so awkward. You flicked the ashes off your own before your eyes went back to him. Jesus, what a fucking jawline, and now you couldn't stop looking at his lips. He was going to think you were weird if he caught you staring like this, or at least you thought that. Not that you would know he had been looking out for you since you met. From a distance, of course.

"I didn't get your name last time" He knew your name, you knew a guy with his resources probably already knew the answer. But you indulged him, saying your name out loud for him, "that's pretty"

"Thanks"

"So what's got you stressed out enough to be smoking this late," He said your name. You liked the way it sounds coming from his voice; he liked the way it rolls off his tongue so easily.

"Had the worst night out, ever" Now it was your turn to sigh, leaning in to rest your arms on the ledge. He was eyeing your outfit now, an oversized hoodie clearly thrown over a going out outfit, black tights and heavy boots visible under it. And if you leaned forward just a little bit, he could see a bit of the miniskirt your hoodie was hiding. "You?"

"I've had worse, had better" He shrugged, intentionally giving you a vague answer. He wasn't going to tell you about his activities, no normal person wants to hear about that much violence.

"Really?" You raised an eyebrow, your tone was playful, and he knew you were about to tease him "You seem pretty fucked to me, or should I have seen the other guy?"

"Hey, I've got no open wounds tonight" He smirked and you wanted to scream, why was that so fucking attractive? "I'm counting that as a win"

You let out a chuckle, and you just missed the way his lips curved up in a smile when you left the cigarette butt on the tray. His eyes followed your movement, looking at the lipstick-stained cigarette for a few seconds before returning his focus to you.

"Were you born here?" He asked

"Nope, I moved a couple of years ago for college"

"How's that going?"

"I'm getting my masters now" You shook your head, looking up at him before continuing "What about you? Are you a full fledged Gothamite?"

"Loud and proud" He joked, getting you to laugh loudly.

"Of course you are, I can't imagine getting a costume and going out to fight criminals every night" You teased.

"Hey!" He tried to sound offended at your remark, but he couldn't hide the smile he was fighting against, so he opted for changing the subject "I'm sorry, what did you say you were studying?"

With that, he got you to tell him about your masters, how you got into that field, and what you liked the most. You also got him to talk a bit about himself, even if he was not willing to give you that much information. Both to protect his identity and not to scare off the first girl he's had a crush on in a while. You both steered closer and closer to the other as you talked, close enough you could smell the intoxicating mix of gunpowder, sweat, and whatever cologne he used.

"Can I be nosy for a second?" You bit your lip at the risky question you were about to ask. He just nodded, his hands itching to touch you again, to wrap around your hips like they did last time he saw you. "What's the deal with you and Batman?"

"What deal? There's no deal" He brushed it off, he was about to take a step back when you stopped him. Pulling him in by grabbing his clothes, an eyebrow raised and a "do you think I'm stupid?" expression. "We don't get along, 's all"

"Really?" You knew you were pushing your luck.

"He hates me, I hate him" He explained, hoping to put your growing curiosity to rest.

"In my opinion," Your voice was soothing, and so was your hand on his chest. He didn't know how long it had been since he was touched like that; "hate like that can only be born out of someone you loved"

"He thinks I'm bad, they all do" You noticed how weak and sad his tone turned.

"I don't think you're bad, if it's worth anything"

He moved one hand up to cup your cheek, and he stared at you tenderly for a moment. It happened fast, his lips crashed onto yours in a second. You hummed, tasting the left over taste of the smoke, stood on your tip toes, hands fisting at his clothes to maintain some balance as he leans down too. His other hand rested on your back, but not too low trying not to push his luck with you. And he kissed you like he had something to prove, whether it was to you or himself you were not so sure of. What you were sure of was how warm he felt, your body pushed up against his in the cold, windy night. It felt like a consolation prize after such a terrible night.

And he wanted to tell you that he wished he was a normal person, that he had a normal life, and he could date you without it meaning a death sentence to you. But all it comes out is; "I wish I never met you"

"Excuse me?" You gasped, pushing him off "What a weird fucking thing to say after kissing someone"

"No—I mean" He sighed, hands cupping your face once again. You just couldn't resist that. "You're pretty, and funny, you should be kissing someone normal"

"I think I can make that decision for myself"

"I should go" He let go of you, and you grew colder by the second, already missing him before he left.

"Wait," You tugged on the hood hanging on his back. He turned back to see you, anything to make the moment last more. "I usually come up here on Fridays, in case you need to talk to someone"

He just gave you a court nod before jumping off, and you could only stand there and think about what just happened. Despite his better reasoning, he found himself swinging by your rooftop that Friday, and the one after, and all the next ones for the foreseeable future.

a/n: I mentioned in my birthday drabble that poison ivy called reader "her favorite hostage" and this is why, so technically part of the birthday-verse?

#anyways this one dedicated to the 1 girlie who reblogged the ss of the draft of my bad puns back in august #w: jason #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader fluff #etc etc #i always say ill add tags later but never do lol #posting early before perfectionism comes at me at tells me to delete it

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frostedclock-writes · 2 days ago

Text

Crimson Magnolias

Part 7

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Warnings: Hanahaki Disease, emotions coming to a head, jealousy

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The congealed flower and blood soup on the floor was thick. A few splatters ended up on the top of your shoes, great. Yet another pair ruined by this stupid curse of yours. And now your stuck. Stuck in this little coffin of an elevator with your own shame staring at you. You wipe your mouth but the taste lingers.

You take a few breaths, your lungs feel tight when you try to breath in. It will be fine. You just have to try and pry a rusty metal door open and climb to the closest opening you can find. It will be all okay. The bees knees. Cats pajamas. Fucking shit.

You slowly sit up straight after your stomach stopped doing the dry squeezing to try and empty what was left. Which currently was nothing, even your stomach acid refused to give anything. The small elevator smelled like blood and flowers, you couldn't escape it now. Maybe Rosie had been right, you were holding so much in. Perhaps even just talking with her would have helped, but at this point it seemed like it was a lost cause.

" I'm such a fucking idiot. " You laugh out the words. Or perhaps they were sobs. You couldn't even tell yourself.

You lean your back against the very back of the elevator away from the sticky puddle. Your eyes stung and you felt something wet slide down your cheek. When did it even begin? When did you first fall for such a man like Alastor?

It must have been then.

Even if you hadn't known.

It was when your eyes first met his. You fell hard and didn't even know until you were picking your face off of the ground.

It had been stormy spring in Louisiana, the Mississippi had overflown a few times and made some residents of New Orleans need to clean their basements out of rotted goods and items. You had been walking the brick laid streets, rain still sprinkled and splattered against the peacoat you wore that day for the chill that lingered in the early morning air. You used to work in that little bakery and had to go in early to get things prepared, that day had been no different.

You must have not been paying attention. You couldn't even remember what had been on your mind in those moments before the shop whindow had caught your attention. Radios on display of all sorts, large and small. Some with intricate carvings into the wood and the love put into the products was obvious.

" Such beautiful work ..." You must have spoken out loud.

You recall seeing a reflection next to yours as it came into view. A tall man with dark hair and a smile on his lips.

"A woman with impeccable taste, a rare find. " You thought his chuckle was like hearing music for the first time.

You turned your head to the stanger next to you. Normally, no one was up this early and walking about, except perhaps you and a few shopkeeps. He was dressed in a simple white button up paired with dark brown slacks that looked startched and pressed, crisp lines followed his thin silhouette. A bowtie topped off his appearance.

Your eyes met deep brown ones and they seemed to study you.

" Radios can come in such wondrous forms, don't you agree?" His voice was so familiar to you then. It ticked the recesses of your mind like a jingle you couldn't get rid of in your mind.

The rain started to fall a little harder and it made some of your hair stick to your face. He looked at you, a tilt of the head. You hadn't answered and you realized you must seem rude. You laughed and smiled.

" I suppose. Sorry, you sound familiar. Do I know you?" You ask and you take the little clutch purse you carried and put it over your head like a visor as the rain droplets began to pelt down like little pinpricks. The stanger had seemed like he didn't mind.

He had both of his hands tucked behind him, one came out and he bowed a bit at his waist. His smile shown brightly even in the low lighting of the streetlamps and shops slowly turning on their lights. " You must have heard one of my radio shows. Alastor, a pleasure to be meeting you. " His hand extended with his palms upwards.

You gently lay your hand in his.

You can still feel the small thin callouses on his hand and the feel of his lips on the back of your hand. Such a simple thing.

" Mmm how unsightly. "

Your eyes open back up and the raining streets of New Orleans faded and the harsh lights of the elevator reminded you of where you were. The sound like someone stepping in sticky soda and pulling their shoe off of it, kinda squishy at the same time. You shoot your eyes to the voice and noise. Alastor's nose was scrunched up as he looked at the bottom of his hooves. Mushed petals and blood stuck to the polished red of his hooves.

You wish you could drop dead right then and there.

Maybe if you bit off your tongue you could bleed out in time?

Alastor stepped off to the side of the petal and he dusted his hand off like he had touched the viscera and petals himself. His eyes looked to you. They narrowed a little and he scanned your face for something but you didn't know what.

" You thought you could slip away like that?" He asked simply. " And now I see why you really haven't been feeling yourself lately. "

You felt your stomach clench. " It's nothing. "

Lights flickered in the elevator.

" Nothing?" A record scratch and he moved in close. Close and fast. It made your heart feel like it went straight into your throat. " You've been hiding something such as this from me. "

No everyone has been right. You're killing yourself. And for what? You might have been able to move on with Vox but he goes and...

' Someone like you deserves better-'

' You look like you need to get things off your chest.'

' You need to stop holding yourself back.'

"Do you even really care? Did you ever care?" Your eyes felt like they were stinging. Your throat burned like you swallow boiling water. " About me?"

He stopped for a moment and looked at you. Intense red. " What?"

You realized he had leaned his tall frame over you and you were effectively trapped against the wall. You had to crane your neck to look at him in the eyes. "Or was I just some fun thing to have around? Or did you just like the idea of having someone around that would do anything for you?"

Alastor blinked and he moved to not be so looming over you. His usual postering seemed to fade. " Cher..."

" No... Don't 'cher' me." You rubbed your palms against your cheeks and wiped the tears tracks away.

A hand went over yours, stopping the aggressive wipe you were about to do. " Y/N." The filter he usually put to his voice was gone. Just his voice. You looked at him from the spot on his chest you had decided to focus on. " How could you ask me a thing like that? I care for you a great deal. "

You felt your gut twisting into knots and the taste of ginger was unbearable in your mouth. " But, not in the way that I want you too. " You slipped your hand from his.

His hand stayed a few centimeters from your face for a moment. You could feel the heat of his hand from there, and then it was against your cheek. Warm. How can a cannibalistic serial killer's hands be so gentle? You so wanted to lean into the touch, wanted more.

"Y/N, " his name fell from your lips and you looked into his eyes. His smile was slight, a ghost of his usual stretched grin. " You fancied me?"

You let out a broken sob of a laugh. " You're such an idiot. Fancy you. Yes. " You made another laugh as it felt like your lungs were on fire. " Fuck, Alastor. I have loved you. Been devoted to you. " Tears began to fall again. " You think anyone who isn't in love with your dumbass would put up with you this long? "

Alastor sighed out a laugh. And for a split moment you felt like he was about to make fun of you. "I suppose you are right. If you have for so long, why have you never spoke it?"

You felt your cheeks heat up beneath the drying trails of tears. " Because.... I know you don't ... " You shifted. " Exactly do the dating, courting, romance, shtick. I enjoy youy company. Why would I want to ruin it with that? I had hoped it would go away. " You clutched at the fabric in front of your chest. Your lungs felt a bit lighter as you spoke.

His thumb brushed against your cheek. " Quite a silly woman you are. "

He was close. A different closeness then you had been used to from him. " How am I silly?"

" I enjoy your company immensely. Before I arrived down here, there were but a few who I would choose to spend time with outside the dancefloor. " His hand left your cheek and it went to the peice of your hair that had stuck to your wet cheeks. He seperated it and gently ran his red tipped fingers across it to the very end.

" Alastor," you began.

" Cher, you could have told me and I wouldn't have outright rejected the notion..."

The heat rose in your cheeks and you felt like your heart was about to stop beating. Maybe you had passed out in the elevator and hit your head. You expected him to sit up at any moment and laugh, tell you how it was actually silly of you to think he would even entertain the idea of becoming more than friends. But he never did.

" And I suppose you were right. " He stood up straight and adjusted his bowtie.

" What?" You blinked and looked at him. He wouldn't meet your gaze now.

" I am... " He grumbled the last part and it sounded like a radio station getting lost.

" Hmm?"

" I am jealous. " Alastor cleared his throat, taking his monocle and pretending to clean it. " Thinking of you with that.... Man... Made me a bit irrate. " He put his monocle back on. " I didn't agree to the idea when he mentioned his feelings before and I agree less now. " He waved his hand and his cane appeared, he stamped it and the elevator began to move again.

" Oh, well... Wait, before? " You cocked an eyebrow. When he didn't answer and the elevator door dinged open, you knew he wasn't going to.

Alastor stepped over the puddle about into the hallway. " I'll have Niffty come and clean this mess up, not to worry. " He said as he helped you over the blood and petals.

" Alastor, " you looked at him for a moment then took a small breath, then he put his finger to your lip with a tut.

" Saturday. Cancel whatever that Vox had planned and meet me outside my broadcast room. " He moved his finger away. " I'll take you somewhere. "

" A.... Date?"

Alastor shifted on his hooves, he made a small chuckle. " Yes.... " He chuckled gently. " A date. " He took your hand and kissed the back of your hand.

You swore you could hear the pitter-patter of rain.

taglist: @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sirens-and-moonflowers @phoephan-123 @girl-nahh-two @kerosene--lamp @l3rittany @lunamoonbby @sallymoon135

#hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hanahaki disease #crimson magnolias

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