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gghostwriter · 6 months ago

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If You Love Me Right

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 2 Summary: Emily asks an all important question regarding the next step of your relationship with Spencer Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: Back at it again with something Short n' Sweet. Unsure if this will be the last of this album inspired fics but so far the album is still on repeat. I think out of all the fluff I've written, this is the one where I could just feel how much of a green flag Spencer would be as a partner, if only he wasn't fictional. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

“Have you thought about it?” Emily asked, wine glass on hand as she slid into the seat next to you.

The sun was just starting to set, covering the lush backyard in multitude of pink & orange hues. It was a Sunday and Rossi had invited the team and their extended families for an early Italian dinner feast. When Spencer inquired about your availability, it warmed your heart to hear who you are to him.

“Are you sure you want me there, Spence?” your voice coming out soft and muffled as you burrowed yourself further into the warmth of his slender neck. His invitation was a big step in further solidifying the relationship and having been in questionable situation-ships, you had to be sure where you stood.

He pulled back, doe eyes inquisitively staring into yours. His gaze had this way of making you feel known and at home. It was as if his soul has recognized yours from eons ago and needed no further introduction.

“Of course,” his calloused fingers softly pushing stray locks behind your ears. “You’re my person now and it feels right to have you there with me.”

Emily cleared her throat binging you back to the present. “Well?”

“Thought about what?”

She nodded her head in Spencer’s direction. “Having genius babies with our boy genius?”

You softly smiled, watching your boyfriend of one year perform magic tricks for Henry and Michael. It wasn’t like it never crossed your mind. If you were being honest, by the sixth date and the first time he stayed over for the night, the idea of growing old and starting a family with Spencer by your side had started to solidify.

“Maybe,” you drawled out. A half truth that the seasoned profiler caught on right away.

“And has this—” she lifted her hands to form quotation marks in the air. “‘maybe’ been discussed with the potential baby daddy?”

You brought the wine glass up to your lips, the outer corner of your lips tugging upwards your face as you took a sip. Dating a man of Spencer’s caliber had given you the comfort and stability to discuss any little insecurity, adoration, and realization without the unease of thinking he’d judge you for it. Gone were those nights of second guessing and reading too much in between the lines and in its place were honest discussions between two consenting adults.

It was a real breath of fresh air.

“Do you think we should have a baby?” you casually asked, laying on his lap as he was propped up against the headboard with a book on hand. “I mean, not this second but—yeah, do you?”

There was a rustle of pages before a soft thud. “Sweetheart, don’t take this the wrong way but are you by any chance ovulating?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He smiled, looking down at your slowly reddening cheeks. I—uh, have actually been keeping track—” he bit his lip before rushing out to explain himself. “—not to use the information for nefarious reasons but my brain just started to notice the patterns and it feels like an invasion of your privacy and—are you angry?”

“Oh Spence, no. Not at all,” your hand twining with his to stop its nervous movements. “It might be weird but I know you meant well. Now, will you tell me some facts about why you thought I was ovulating?”

“Well, studies had shown that women feel more flirty, sociable, and more physically attractive right before and during ovulation. Some studies also support the idea of increased libido which makes sense since that is the peak window for propagation of the human species.”

You giggled, always welcoming his rambles even if it had to do with your own reproductive system. “Right, but you know what else got me thinking about it?”

A slight scrunch in between his eyebrows appeared as his mind no doubt rewound the day for any trigger. His eyes brightening when it clicked. “Was it the picture of me holding Henry and Michael?”

“Definitely,” you breathed out, starting to feel warm just thinking about how secure his hold was to the newborn babies and that smile on his face that reached his molten hazel eyes and radiated from his whole face.

He pressed feather-like kisses all over cheeks and forehead. “There’s actually also a study on why that affected you so much. It all comes down to women seeing their partners acting as providers—” he cut himself off to land a kiss on your lips. “—I’m not saying no—I’d actually really like that but maybe we can revisit the idea again in two weeks? I want to make sure this is something you really want and not something your biology has dictated on you.”

“Okay, that sounds fair. I love you, Spence.”

“I love you too.”

Spencer’s laughter floating through the air brought you out of your reverie. A slight shiver passed through you—either from the wind or the imagery of him carrying Michael and holding hands with Henry on the other as they slowly made their way back to their mother.

You turned to face Emily, no doubt that the blush on your cheeks giving you away. “Maybe.”

“Huh,” she tilted her head slightly to the left—a subtle tick you’ve grown to read into.

“What?”

Shaking her head, she leaned in to clink her glass with yours and a teasing smile forming on her face. “Nothing. Well—you’re welcome, by the way. And as a thank you, what do you think about naming the maybe baby after me?”

You laughed. The trio had taken full credit for bringing the couple together—something that they had always brought up like it was their greatest contribution to earth.

A layer of warmth was added to your shoulders and a faint scent of books and wood wafted to your nose. Tilting your head backwards, it was Spencer sans his black coat that was now adorning your body. His garment effectively marking you as an extension of him, as if the necklace around your neck with his initials 'SR' wasn't enough already. A priceless jewelry that had a partner with your own initials that found its home around his neck. “Hi love.”

“Hi sweetheart,” leaning down to give your lips a kiss. “You looked cold.”

You were both wrapped up in your own little bubble to notice Emily’s eyebrows arching towards her hairline. “It won’t be long now, I guess. So how many?”

“One would be cute—” your eyes never lingering on his face as if you were tracing the all his angles and memorizing all the stubbles that had started to grow on his jaw line.

Spencer without further explanation continued on. “—two would be better.”

“You know, you both have to stop finishing each other’s sentences, it’s getting creepy,” Emily quipped.

You both laughed, turning to face her, and although your gazes were no longer meeting, the gentle caress of his thumb on the back of your hand was enough to communicate everything and anything in between.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #Spotify

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joelsbloodyhands · 5 months ago

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Mine

Din Djarin x Reader, The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: Your employer is pissed when you come back from getting information about a bounty with a bruised hand mark around your neck.

A/N: I kinda just wrote this one because I had a vague idea and ran with it. I think everyone is going to learn very quickly in my writing that clearly jealous/overprotective Din is my fave version of him 🙈

Warnings: reader gets choked and not in the nice way (only talks about it), overprotective Din, Din is your employer but clearly wants to be more, death and m!rder (all in the name of love) 🤗, mentions of blood and bodily harm, mentions of slave traders, fluff with a little bit of spice✨, soft!Din but also a little bit reckless!Din 👀 smut references but not written too explicitly but still MINORS DNI, business associates to lovers arc? 😅 not set at any particular point during the series.

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader does not have a visible disability.

You’d been gone too long and Din was getting anxious.

This hadn’t been his original plan.

The contact for information regarding the bounty had unfortunately been highlighted as a previous foe of his. He’d busted them prior when their bounty puck had fell in his lap over a cycle ago.

Trust Karga to let the man redeem himself by providing intel on high-level bounties with the incentive of remaining out of the hands of the Rebellion that for some reason unbeknownst to Din, wanted his head on a stick.

Why had Din let you go and barter for the information again?

“He won’t suspect me to be a threat.”

Oh right, yeah. That’s what you said.

Except Din was probably worrying about the wrong thing because the biggest threat would be the ex-criminal you were meeting with at Mos Espa Cantina.

“Go say hi to Boba for me. Get the boy fed and I’ll be back soon.”

Din was losing his edge.

On what kriffin planet did he give in to such a request?

You were in danger and he knew it.

He knew it and he still sat in the markets with Grogu, twirling wupiupi coins in his fingers for the past half hour while his son slurped another bowl of pog soup.

Why?

Well, that was easy.

Since the past year you had been travelling with him, Din had grown to have affections for you.

To start he kept you at arms length.

Brief answers to your curious questions turned into nightly talks between your bunks. Subtle touches to guide you through busy and sometimes treacherous places turned into lingering holds in his grasp, fear of losing you to the crowds. He found himself watching you far longer than he ever had before and during times when he didn’t necessarily need to. The sound of you using the fresher while he tucked in his little green son had his heart pounding and a certain area of his armor feeling a little bit too uncomfortable.

He grew more and more protective the further you strayed without him.

He no longer wished for you to venture into dens alone to ask for information on his behalf but he couldn’t deny that you were good at it.

Better than him.

You were calm and collected.

You had a level head.

Something that he could very easily lose control over should Grogu and yourself be threatened by a contact. Though it was the one thing you had learned you could assert yourself over since Din’s change of heart.

You had a job that needed to be done and you were the best person for it.

So Din caved far quicker than he normally would with allowing you to go the cantinas and talk about bounties, pay and information. It sped up the process for Din to track them and also meant he didn’t have to deal with the unwanted chit chat that came with meeting up with Karga.

Something you enjoyed. Something that had Din’s palms itching whenever Karga took your hand to help you stand from the booth, Din’s clenched fist aching to wipe the smug look of his face when he turned back in his direction.

“I like her, Mando. She’s good at getting what she wants.”

He knew you were.

Din wasn’t sure if he was included on the list of things you wanted but you sure as hell were on his.

There was times he had a inkling.

Especially when he was feeding the kid and he caught you looking away when his eyes found you scraping away at your lunch.

Times when you would grab his hand without hesitation and pull him through midnight markets towards the sights of fireworks. Din’s heart warming at the wide smile plastered across your face, the powdery shades of red, blue and green lighting up in your eyes from the sky.

Damn, he was down bad and he had no idea what to do about it.

Technically, he was your employer.

Juggling Grogu and his job was a difficulty. Most of the time he was happy to venture out with Grogu in his carrier or pod but his bounties got, let’s say, brave in their efforts to deter him. Going so far as to aim shots towards the child. They learned his weakness and Din hated it.

So with much reluctance to start, he asked Peli if she would be interested in babysitting him for a price but of course she refused; even with the money on the table.

“Not a chance but I know just the person for the job.”

He had slid the money off the table and walked back to the ship without another word until she scrambled after him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Just hear me out, okay?” Din had sighed, turning back to her from the top of the ramp while she stood hands on her hips and a smile growing. “There’s this kid that needs a job. Call ‘em a distant relative, if you will. They’re desperate. Need money, board, food, water and they’ll make sure your little boy is taken good care of. I swear!”

“Have they taken care of children before?” Din asked inquisitively but also with a half mind to ignore Peli completely and close the ramp in response to her proposal.

“Yeah! Loads of times! They’re a professional!”

Din doubted that very much. He knew Peli’s tactics for selling him an offer and he couldn’t deny that she was good at it.

Fine, he’ll bite. Again.

“Call them.”

He just remembers Peli’s grin, your soft voice on the end of a comlink and then a speeder sounding just outside.

She had presented you to him like a rare gift and he was less than happy to receive you at the time but more than a few rotations later, you had thrown yourself in front of a bounty that had tried to commandeer his ship, their blaster aimed for Grogu in his bunk, taking a graze to the side before Din shot him dead.

You were willing to die to protect his son.

That was more than he could’ve ever asked for.

Later when Din was back at the Crest, you returned.

He had spent the past hours pacing up and down the ramp like a mad man.

Originally, he had planned to detour from the markets with Grogu over to the cantina but you had used your comlink to tell him you were already near the ship.

That was interesting because Din got back to the ship and you weren’t even here.

Which begs the question, why did you lie that you were already nearby?

Maybe he was being paranoid. His fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly, stressing about your whereabouts and the obvious reason as to why he was so stressed to begin with.

So when he’d heard your footsteps up the ramp, your voice calling for Grogu, you were both surprised to see the other staring back.

“Where have you been?” Din questioned gently but you sensed an underlining annoyance to his tone.

“I detoured, sorry,” you sheepishly smiled, holding up a bag of frog meat. “I saw a vendor selling this and I knew Grogu would be happy about it. Not to mention,” you brush past him, eyes focused solely on the sleeping child snuggling into his hammock on Din’s bunk, “it would be nice to see him not eat a whole frog for once.”

You laugh and it eases Din.

Of course he was just being paranoid.

“And the contact?” He says and you remain with your back to him, reaching your hand in carefully to tug the blanket over Grogu’s body. “He give us what we need?”

“He did,” you respond and Din satisfied, presses the button to bring up the ramp and close the hatch. The sound of it whirring so loud, in need of some oiling so much so that you had probably thought he missed your quiet words.

“What was that?” His helmet turns your way when the hatch closes with a loud creak.

“I said, somewhat.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t being paranoid after all.

Din feels his nerves wash over him, noticing how you’re not even turning around as you address him. He takes you in. You don’t seem discomforted, angry or emotional. You’re incredibly calm.

Though that was worrying.

Normally, you came back from having debriefs with the informants with a story to tell.

“It was quite scary actually. They had this wookie with them but then you’ll never believe this guy! Stood there, blaster in hand, immense glare in his face, goes and shoves a fist in his satchel, I’m ready to throw hands and I shit you not, Din…wookie pulls out a cookie and starts crunching away at it!”

“Have you ever met a Gungan, Din? I think they’re my favourite people I’ve ever met. I mean they were all like, yousa follow us now, okeyday? Seriously! Oh gooberfish! I love them!”

“What do you mean by somewhat?”

You sigh.

This wasn’t good.

“I’m sorry, Din. They gave us the last location. I think that’s the most important thing.”

“What about if they’re solo or run with a crew? We need to know what we’re walking into, otherwise we could get bombarded the moment we land.”

This wasn’t a simple bounty. This guy was one of the worst out there.

A slave trader.

It angered Din to even think about it.

“Something happened,” he doesn’t let you tip-toe around the subject. “What are you not telling me?”

You fall silent and that’s enough for him.

Something did happen and what’s worse, you don’t want to tell him.

He moves towards you and you turn on your heel, ready to protest. Din had only meant to just embrace your shoulder gently to ease you into a conversation he thought you needed to have but the slightest wince had him drawing back almost immediately.

With his steps halted in front of you, the air cold, the crest filled with silence, Din’s visor drops instinctively to your neck.

Was it getting cool? Sure, when it was getting late. Though right now, it was still early afternoon and you never wore a scarf in Mos Espa outside the settlement and in the dunes.

“Did he touch you?”

Din has to bite back the growl threatening to crackle through his modulator.

Your head drops, eyes on the floor and the look of regret on your features make Din pray to the Maker that he’ll kill the man just for the expression on your face.

Then you unravel the scarf and Din wastes no time.

His hand had pulled your collar back gently, his shoulders stiffening at the purpled marks there.

You grimaced before trying for a smile but he sees the way your eyes plead with his, “Before you ask, it looks worse than it feels. I’m fine, Din. Let’s just go.”

He remembers you calling his name after that.

Only once because you knew as you watched him brush past you, grabbing two vibroblades from his armoury and charging down the steps towards the town, that there was nothing you could say to stop him.

And you were right because less than five minutes later, Din’s blades were impaled on the informants hands, stapling him indefinitely to the table at the cantina while onlookers ran completely, hid or dropped their heads from his view.

Then his gloved hands were on his throat, squeezing the life out of him.

An eye for an eye.

You hadn’t explained why the man had strangled you and it was pointless anyway.

He had no right to touch you.

To hell with Karga.

He’d lose an informant but that informant chose to fuck with what was his and that was worth more than any information.

When Din felt the life leave him, he dropped a number of credits to the table, looked up at the barman and walked away. His last words being, “you can keep those,” shrugging his shoulder towards the blades on the way out.

Now back at the ship, you sit rigidly on the bunk while Din gently swipes a lotion of bacta over your wound with a cotton wipe.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Your eyes flicker to his visor and you know he’s evading your gaze.

You sigh and for a moment, he think you’re not going to reply until your hands gently take his, stopping him from tending to you.

He lifts his visor then, meeting your concerned eyes, your fingers intertwined with his on your lap.

“I can handle myself. You know that, right?”

Oh. So that’s what this was?

You were worried he thought you incompetent to end up in this circumstance?

Of course you would think that. He’s your employer. You only want to deliver good work for him.

That’s not all this is anymore though and Din can’t pretend and let you go on feeling like a failure especially with the tears dancing on your waterlines.

“You are very capable, mesh’la but-“ Din sighs.

How can he even begin to explain to you that he’s more angry at himself for not protecting you like he’s supposed to?

Kriff, you’re not even a bounty hunter. Trained to use a blaster as a novice, he noticed how you flinched whenever you’ve had to pull the trigger on his behalf. You’re at your calmest when you’re rocking the small boy before bed, singing lullabies to him in a hushed tone probably so Din couldn’t hear. You had no idea that he stood just above the ladder to the cockpit and listened.

You were ethereal and he couldn’t get enough of you.

That’s why it made his hands shake to even think that anyone would harm you.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts, he misses the way your eyes widen at the term of endearment he let slip and the quick gesture as you shake yourself from how affected you are by it.

“I just…” you break through his racing thoughts, his eyes latching onto your dipped chin, eyes shadowed in the corner of the docking port, just outside his bunk. You look solemn but rather than feel dread, Din’s heart stills when he notices the flush of pink across your features.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were nervous.

“I just want to be able to do more for you.”

The words play on a loop, almost like they’re colliding against the inside of Din’s helmet, repeatedly soaring through his ears again and again.

“I want to be more useful for you. Ya know?”

Useful? You think you’re not already useful?

“Sometimes I just feel like I have more to offer. I know you brought me in to be a babysitter but I can be more than that. For you.”

Was the carbonite freezing system failing or was it getting hotter in the crest?

Din felt like he needed to tug the shroud off from around his neck. The air was suffocating.

“Please say something?” Your small voice says quietly.

“You are more to me than you will ever understand, cya’rika.”

Your eyes meet his then.

Well, his visor at least and Din curses his creed for having him hide his face at a time when he wants- no needs you to see how much he means what he says.

You’re silent but the increasing rouge of your cheeks is enough to see that you understand him and that perhaps there was some truth in his suspicions.

You felt for him just as much as he felt for you.

“Din…”

And just like that, his eyes roll back momentarily hearing his name leave your tongue like a pleading prayer.

He couldn’t pretend like you weren’t affecting him too.

He needed you to know.

“Get in the bunk, ner kar’ta.”

Your body stills a moment in surprise and you don’t move.

Maybe he misjudged or maybe he’s being too forward but then you stand and without taking your eyes away from him, you seat yourself on the side of his bunk.

Waiting for him.

Waiting for further instruction just like you’ve been doing ever since you walked onto his ship.

One thing he realised he misjudged.

All those times you obeyed every command, it was never out of the need for his money.

You never questioned him, never refused an order but with Din and the matter of Grogu’s safety, it was never a request and that’s all it was to start.

It was just a matter of his sons safety until he realised he loved you too.

Din stands and steps in front of you, you look up at him as he tugs the shroud from around his neck loose.

He notices how your eyes drop to his waist, evading the reveal of his tanned skin while you’re positioned below him. He wraps the material a couple of times before placing the fabric over your eyes.

You don’t move.

You don’t flinch.

You just allow him to remove one of your senses, leaving nothing but darkness over your sight. His heart aches at the trust you have in him, allowing him to render you vulnerable before him.

He ties it behind your head, making sure it’s not too tight as to hurt you.

He’s not the same type of man as the monster from earlier today.

His fingers itch at the memory and he shrugs his gloves off, setting his bare fingers against the cold metal of his helmet.

You await patiently and he watches as you jerk your head slightly at the familiar sound of his helmet releasing.

The sound you’ve only ever heard from a nearby room, hiding away from him when you brought him supper.

You await patiently while Din removes each piece of armor, setting it aside.

Then there’s just silence.

Until you hear his knees hit the ground in front of you and a warm breath hits your neck, a shudder running up your spine.

“Is it okay if I show you something?”

His whispers hit your ear drum in the most delightful way.

You nod dreamily.

Then you feel rough, warm lips graze your neck.

If heaven was travelling at light-speed through space, it was right here and now with Din’s lips travelling along your jawline, mapping out the path to seal against your lips. He tugs gently, coaxing you out of the shy shell you had created when you realised the butterflies he made you feel when you first met had more to do with how attracted you were to him than to how intimidating most people found him.

Every step he took on each planet you travelled, Din carried a powerful aura that most people cowered away from but it only drew you to him more.

You knew Din was strong.

You knew not many could beat him in a fight, yourself included but that was the whole point.

Din would never abuse his strength over you.

Ever.

Though, you wish he would, in special circumstances.

Like right now.

“How do you feel, cya’re?” Din inquires breathlessly, lips pressing soft kisses down your throat while you bite back the urge to be vocal.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you say uneasily, your hands gripping the bunk below you.

Din’s chuckle hits your ear, reverberating against your ear drum exquistively.

“Din?” He hears your voice rattle with every nestle of his lips stroking over your skin.

“Yes, mesh’la?” He raises his head, lips brushing the underside of your jaw, watching your lips turn up into a small smirk. Though you couldn’t see his expression returning yours, his adoring smile awaited your next words patiently.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

You feel a thumb smooth over your bottom lip.

“He deserved it,” you shake your head slightly, fighting away an amused smile on your lips that he quickly wipes away, replacing with an expression of longing when his lips meet your ear.

“You’re mine.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #Mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #Mando x you #ppcu fanfiction #mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu #joelsbloodyhands writes #GROGU IS NOT IN THE BUNK!!!😩😭#<I feel like this needs to be said #because I know someone guna read it be like 👀 um where is baby pls #is he looking over the hammock like O_O #NOOOOOOOOOOOO #maybe uncle boba has him idk 😒#it’s fictional metal man’s job to father child not mine #😭😭😭

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wstviewvidal · 4 months ago

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breakfast- wanda maximoff x r

pairing: fwb!wanda x r

summary: after another night together, it’s hard to tell if wanda sees something past this agreement with you.

a/n: this is the first thing i’ve written in the longest time so im actually super nervous to even put this out. but y oh well?. if u guys don’t like it literally don’t tell me because i’m sensitive and will cry.

edit: pt 2

minors do not interact

“have you thought about what you want to do yet?” wanda asks, rolling to the other side of the bed to retrieve her phone from her night stand, the blanket slipping enough to show her bare back.

a small groan of frustration escapes your throat as you throw a pillow at her face from right next to her, “can you shut up about a plan? i really don’t see a point in doing anything for my birthday. i mean, the last time we went out, aggie almost sold us out”

wanda has always been a step ahead of you, in every way, shape, and form. when you have girls’ nights with your friend group, she knows exactly what you’ll order, the fact that you drink water right after a soda, how long it’ll take for you to get cold and steal her jacket (that she was never going to use and only brought for you)

maybe that’s the reason you fell for her, maybe that’s the reason you’ve been stuck in this endless cycle of being friends with benefits with her.

wanda scoffs and rolls her eyes, “why not? we used to always have count downs for your birthday when we were younger”

that’s true. when you two were still in college, the month leading up to your birthday would be filled with the two of you texting each other ‘two weeks!’ ‘four days!’ ‘tomorrow!’

with a sigh, you get up from the bed and redress yourself with wanda’s black button down and a pair of her pajama shorts.

wanda watches as you dress, playing with a loose thread on her comforter, admiring how you look in her clothes with a glint in her eyes that you can’t quite place.

or maybe you’re just too scared to think it means more than that.

“i don’t know,” you say with a small defeated sigh as you put your hair in a ponytail, “i think the whole ‘birthday joy and excitement’ wore off over time.”

wanda lets out a soft chuckle, propping herself up on an elbow while looking at you with a small smirk.

“jesus, you sound like an adult. when did that happen?”

letting out a small exhale of a laugh, “is that what we are?”

wanda smiles softly at you as you notice her chest is littered with small marks and a bite mark on her left collar bone, reminders of last night. the sunlight peeking through the shut curtains illuminates her face and shows off her green irises, the ends of her hair lighter than they were a few months ago.

she gets out of bed and throws on baggy black sweats and an old t-shirt she’s had since she was seventeen.

a small giggle leaves your lips as you see the shirt, the same deftones shirt you’d gifted to her that same birthday.

picking at her ‘just rolled out of bed’ appearance, “looking hot, wands”

wanda looks over at you, smirking as she passes by you to get to the kitchen and giving you two small but firm taps on your left cheek, “it’s what got you into my bed last night, isn’t it?”

a small blush covers your cheeks, your face now feeling hot after wanda’s flirty tease. taking a deep breath and trying to cover it up before you walk out into her apartments kitchen, you murmur to yourself, “jesus christ”

wanda moves skillfully around her kitchen as she cooks a simple breakfast, which she usually hates making since she’s not a breakfast person, but knowing you’ll have a busy day is the only reason she’s putting herself through the hassle.

“you know,” she begins with her back facing you as she plates the food, “celebrating you is probably one of the easiest things i’ve ever done”

your heart stops for a second. wanda’s not one to say romantic things like this. is this meant to be romantic? or is this wishful thinking?

“please let us celebrate?” almost in a pleading tone, almost.

sighing softly with a small pout adorning her lips, “if you don’t want a party, at least let me take you out.. just us two”

the memory of the two of you at a party when you two were freshly engaged in this new agreement slowly creeps into your mind.

“you ready, bub?” wanda whispers into the crown of your head, giving you a soft forehead kiss as she cradles the side of your face.

the party’s atmosphere has slowly become one of your worst nightmares: sweaty bodies, terrible mixed drinks, and oddly placed furniture.

“please,” you say softly as you lean into her hold, “i wanna go home, i don’t like it here”

a soft chuckle escapes her lips, she knew you wouldn’t make it two hours at this party, but you needed to go out after being cramped inside during midterm season.

“whatever you want,” she replies with a smile. grabbing your hand softly, she leads you through the crowd towards the front door.

“where are you two lovebirds going?” a familiar voice asks as you make it two feet from the door, agatha.

lovebirds. is that what you two looked like? sure, the topic of putting a label on it hasn’t come up.. but then again, you two never go on dates.

unless you count the weekly rendezvous in wanda’s apartment dates.

“i’m taking her home,” wanda replies, moving you behind her slowly and away from agatha.

agatha smirks, placing her hand on her hip in an almost teasing way, “taking her home, huh?”

wanda gives a pleading look to agatha, silently begging her to keep her silence.

agatha straightens up after rolling her eyes, but not before saying a quick quip about their not-so-secret friends with benefits dynamic.

“you’re no fun,” she mumbles under her breath and walks off.

wanda lets out a sigh of relief and guides you with a hand behind your back to her car.

with a small groan, you sit down and begin eating, avoiding her sentence.

you’re almost afraid of people seeing you like that again— clinging to someone who doesn’t see a future with you, just using you as a layover on the way to their real destination.

“please?”

with a roll of your eyes and a small smile, you reluctantly agree.

wanda’s eyes light up and a huge grin appears on her face, “thank you, bub. i’ll plan a party here for you with just our closest friends and then i’ll take you out the night after.”

bub. she hardly ever calls you that anymore, it’s almost like a blast from the past when it slips her lips.

it feels like your heart is physically aching at the sound of it, a reminder of how much simpler time used to be— before your feelings for her got too complicated.

as you two got older and life happened, it seemed as though the two of you stopped being so flirtatious and just saw each other as what you two had agreed on: friends with benefits.

that wasn’t at all what you wanted. in all honesty, the idea of wanda being romantic with another girl that wasn’t you made you sick to your core, it made your heart clench.

but part of you always had the lingering thought and feeling that wanda wanted something else, someone else.

after all, just because the two of you always found each other in bed often didn’t mean she didn’t date other people and have flings.

“you’re such a sweetheart,” you say softly as you continue with your eyes on your plate.

what you didn’t see was wanda trying to hide a smile and blush behind a fork full of food.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x r #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #fwb!wanda maximoff #jealous!wanda maximoff #wstviewvidal #noe writes #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x y/n

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ozzgin · 1 year ago

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okay, hear me out: mean girl!reader x nerdy/sub!yandere

nerd!yan who gets bullied by you all the time, with harsh name calling and forcing him to do your homework.

nerd!yan who grows intrigued with you. you’re so confident, so pretty, so cool! how can he not like you?

nerd!yan who’s slowly growing more obsessed. his breath hitches whenever you loom over him with that annoyingly hot smirk of yours, calling him such mean, degrading names

nerd!yan who gets jealous whenever he sees you targeting someone else. you can’t bully them!! you should pay attention to him and only him. oh well, he’ll just have to eliminate the competition, so you can go back to “tormenting” him again.

nerd!yan who’s really such a pervert! he followed you home and was pleasuring himself to your scent that lingered on your clothing… such dirty behaviour!

mean girl!reader who returns home to find one of her classmates in her bedroom, and how can she not smile at the sight? he’s so pretty, such a cute little plaything…

mean girl!reader who had always been aware of nerd!yan’s obsessive tendencies, and played along. but now that he’s been caught red handed…

mean girl!reader who degrades poor nerd!yan for being such a disgusting pervert, but submits to nerd!yan’s fantasies anyway. she plays with him, leaving harsh love bites and scratches over his soft skin, reducing him to a moaning, whiney mess.

nerd!yan who’s basically your pet now, obediently following you throughout school, happily accepting all your orders, no matter how demeaning or gross they are.

people who even dare look your way with romantic interest? they get disposed of in…well, let’s just say, messy. oh, but not that nerd!yan will ever let you see it happen! your precious, beautiful eyes should be shielded from such violent acts. but if you ever ask… tilt your head playfully with a soft smile and ask him to let you watch, he might.

tldr; mean girl and a nerdy yandere that are both equally toxic for each other

have an awesome day!! I would really like to see you write a concept like this <3

-Ash

A/N: I'm including someone else's request as I think they mesh well together: "a mean bully!reader with a yandere!loser, where reader basically just uses him like a pet and has him do whatever she wants" I'll be doing my best, but do keep in mind this is written by a loser nerd so I can't guarantee accuracy. I also don't want to be too mean, even if it's hypothetical, y'know? 😭

Nerd! Loser! Yandere x Mean Girl! Bully! Reader

They say being in the right relationship motivates you to strive for the best version of yourself. Sometimes, the opposite is true. What happens when your soulmate brings out your most depraved self?

Content: female reader, mildly NSFW, obsessive behavior, violence, bullying, loser is meant in a loving way, yandere consents to everything

You really aren't that bad of a person. Or at least you weren't before you met the odd man you now call your boyfriend. How did it all begin? For the sake of full disclosure, alright, you have always been somewhat on the mean side. A little too sarcastic, a little too blunt, perhaps a little too harsh. You don't like soft people and have little patience for their stumbling attempts. But, you can hold your tongue as long as it doesn't involve you.

The meeting, at least from your point of view, was entirely accidental. Despite just starting your university year, your charisma had quickly gained you enough friends and acquaintances to have a stable sample of potential group partners. Except for one class. One single missing person, and you were asked to include a name you didn't recognize. Some young man who almost never showed up to class.

Oh, but he did. He was there for every lecture, for every seminar. His, and yours. His first encounter with you was not what most would call romantic. On day one he'd gotten lost. The crowded halls, the new environment, the noise, the smell, everything overwhelmed him, and he found himself wandering in a panic, until at last he bumped into you. The impact sent him straight onto the ground, books pathetically spilling from his trembling arms. You, on the other hand, remained standing as if nothing happened. "Pull yourself together, dumbass", you hissed through your teeth, looking into his eyes for one brief moment before moving on to your friends: "You have to give it to them straight, otherwise they'll think we're still in high school and someone will hold their hand all the time. It's embarrassing! Grown adults!"

He can't remember anything else from that day. Only your voice, your expression, your stance. Somehow, for whatever reason, that "dumbass" went straight to his heart. To think you'd look after him, a complete stranger. You were right, he needed to recollect himself and figure it out. Something even his own mother omitted to mention.

How he wished he could be like you. The way professors relied on you for discussions, the way your friends flocked for advice. But see, he knew you were faking most of it. That overly sweet smile and exaggerated politeness, all of it was a mask you'd learned to wear at any time. It only came off when dealing with people like him. There was a certain pride in that fact: he'd seen the real you. Not your "friends".

The more he thought about it, the more plagued by need he became. The need to hear you speak to him again, in that raw, unfiltered voice, with that disgusted glare piercing through his entire being. Thus, he did his best - as per your advice - to find another opportunity. The group work. One glance at him was enough for you to remember: "Ah, fuck, you're that dumbass from first day", you whined in frustration. Instant arousal.

And so, your unusual partnership began to develop. Or rather, your game of tormentor versus tormented. (Un)Paid actors and nothing more. It didn't take you long to notice his strange reaction to your verbal aggressions, almost as if the man relished in your ruthlessness. He seemed to know exactly what buttons to press in order to anger you. In return, you decided to see how far you could go until he'd finally cave in. From insults, to flicking him in the forehead, shoving him against the wall, ordering him around like a collared dog. You had your suspicions, but it all culminated when you went over to his little dorm room for a final project review. You'd gotten so upset - what did he even do? - that you pushed him hard into the ground and straddled him, holding onto the collar of his jacket and shouting profanities. A horrified grimace struck his face, and you froze. Have you gone too far? Was he finally going to ask that you stop, and put this strange charade behind? "P-please give me a moment, I..." he panted, frantically trying to move you aside. "I need to take care of myself. I'm so sorry." You hesitantly stood up and noticed the obvious erection in his pants.

You have a strange effect on him. He is not incapable; he knows it very well. And yet, the temptation is too great: to pretend, to exaggerate, to fail, anything to have you take the lead and lovingly scold him in the process. "What do you mean you're too anxious to present your part? Christ, you're useless. Utterly, completely useless." He can't wait to pleasure himself later to the memory of your words. Truly addicting. He doesn't mind being a doormat if it's your feet keeping him down. You bring out his most pathetic, perverted, deplorable self.

The same can be said about you. You've never been this mean to anyone. You hadn't even intended to reach this point, yet something keeps riling you up. Maybe it's his pleading pout whenever he's being reprimanded. The hooded, lustful eyes gazing up at you submissively and waiting for the next burning whip of your tongue. He brings out the worst in you and he loves every second of it.

You unlock the door and march into the bedroom (you've since moved in together). Without a warning, you grip his chin tightly and give the man a firm tug, forcing him to pay attention. "You did something, didn't you? I was supposed to meet with a classmate for coffee and he vanished without a trace. Won't answer my texts or calls." He shakes his head in denial at first, wide innocent eyes glistening in fear. Ah, he can't help it. His lips curl in a crooked grin. He's been caught. You shove two fingers in his mouth, and without delay he twirls his tongue around them hungrily. "What a psychotic bitch you are. You want to be the only one, huh? Is that what it is about?" Between the slurps and the whimpers, you can discern a hurried nod.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere nerd #yandere loser #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #tw yandere #female reader #obsessive love

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merakiui · 4 months ago

Text

terror in threes.

yandere!rollo flamme, fellow honest, & skully j. graves x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight flavoring of religion (father rollo flamme strikes again), murder, death, brief descriptions of blood/gore, age gap for reader (19) and fellow (26), physical abuse (beating), unplanned pregnancy, slut-shaming, kidnapping, coercion, obsession, delusion, stepcest, non-consensual kisses, all three characters written as 18+ note - three short horrors featuring the halloween trio in: MERCY, the terrifying tale of a vindictive priest; ON A DARK, STORMY NIGHT, the chilling caution against getting into a silver-tongued stranger's vehicle; MERRY, the shocking story of a twisted stepbrother led by a one-sided love that is not meant to be. // inspired by this brilliant artwork. thank you to the bestie @heyyy11 for discussing these thoughts with me. :D

MERCY.

Bent over the sink, you watch yourself in the mirror while your boyfriend pounds into you from behind. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your hips; your dress is bunched up in messy wrinkles and ruffles.

“Some—ooh—someone might come in,” you grunt, attempting to lift yourself onto your arms and failing miserably when he all but pushes you against the counter with a particularly rough thrust.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” he says, gazing at your blissed-out reflection. “Everyone’s gone home. Candlelight service’s over.”

“Yes, but—” you tamp down a bawdy moan— “I just worry.”

About someone catching us. About getting locked in.

“Aren’t we in God’s house? It’s supposed to be safe twenty-four seven.”

“If you say so…”

“So don’t worry.” He leans over to kiss the top of your head. You collapse against the sink. “There you go. Just relax. I gotcha.”

You shrug off your inhibitions and surrender to the pleasure. One hand slides away from your ass to reach between your thighs. You mewl like you’re in heat, arching your back the moment his fingers brush your clit. Now you feel like you’re floating, every frazzled nerve smoothed out once you feel the waves of encroaching orgasm lapping at your insides. But just before you can unravel, his hand covers your mouth.

Confused, you meet his stare in the mirror.

“Shh.” He holds a finger to his lips. “I heard someone outside.”

You roll your eyes. Either it’s his attempt to scare you or make the situation seem sexier. You think it’s the latter when he tears his eyes away from the door and resumes his thrusting. His hand falls from from your mouth, and soon your voices are mixing together, echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom.

“I’m close,” you gasp, clenching tightly. “So close. Oh, I’m—”

The door creaks open then. You almost don’t hear it until someone loudly clears their throat. Like well-oiled clockwork, you and your boyfriend turn to look at him. For a moment, you forget he’s Father Flamme. Without his black cassock and holy accompaniments, he looks like a normal person.

“Ahem.”

Immediately, you’re pulling away from your boyfriend and pushing your dress down. “F-Father Flamme, we’re so sorry!”

Stern greens flick quietly from your bare legs to your face. His arms are folded behind his back.

“Damn,” your boyfriend mutters, visibly agitated. You’d feel the same if it wasn’t for the scalding embarrassment rushing through your blood.

He regards the both of you coldly, a disapproving frown etched on his face. “Why are you apologizing on his behalf? He has a mouth of his own.”

Taken aback, you open your own mouth to apologize once again and then shut it. Your boyfriend hurries to stuff himself into his slacks and then stands protectively in front of you.

“Think you should apologize first for looking at my girlfriend,” he sneers.

Father Flamme is silent for a moment. “Of course,” he finally concedes. “I should apologize.”

“Then do it—”

“I should apologize,” he continues, sardonic, “for providing her with a love far superior than the foul, impure lust you’ve shown her.”

“You take that back!”

Your boyfriend surges forward, determined to beat a proper apology out of the priest, and you, rather helplessly, grab at his shirt. He stops rigidly in his tracks when a pistol is pulled from Father Flamme’s back and aimed directly at him. Your gasp hitches at the back of your throat. Suddenly, the world is encased in a jar of molasses. You don’t see the bullet, but you hear it go off. The bang pierces the tranquility of the bathroom, lodging itself in your ears until they’re ringing. You drop to your knees and press your palms into your ears, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear your boyfriend collapse in a heap, but you don’t see the brain matter splatter against the wall.

It’s a clean shot, but just to be perfectly precise Rollo fires once more into his chest. Right at his heart. Chancing a glance at the wall behind you, you scream when you see the blood. Some of it has even managed to get on you, staining your skin and your white dress. Instinctively, you scramble away from the body, pressing yourself into the corner.

“May God have mercy on his soul,” he murmurs, ensuring the safety lock is flicked on before placing the gun on the counter. “And may He forgive these hands that have been soiled in the name of justice.”

You wrap your arms around yourself in a self-soothing hug and stare blankly ahead.

That…just happened. He killed your boyfriend. Father Rollo Flamme killed your boyfriend.

Water rushes into the basin next. He rolls his sleeves up. You listen to him as he washes his hands of sin, scrubbing it from his skin with scentless, antibacterial soap. Your stare falls upon the gun, but the idea is promptly burned away when you meet his frigid stare in the glass. He’s watching you, his lips pursed in a thin line. Not quite a frown, but not quite a smile either.

“It baffles me that you would allow a sinner to defile you like this. You, who are so good and pure, a noble heart… Ah, but you aren’t at fault. That despicable pest has been exterminated, so there’s no need to point fingers. The blame shall die with him.”

You sniffle, tears clouding your eyes.

“I apologize you had to see that.” He dries his hands and then, wetting a fresh towel with soap and warm water, kneels before you. “To have tainted you in that sinner’s blood… I implore your forgiveness.”

Gently, he dabs at the mess. You can’t back up any further, but you certainly try with this startling proximity, squirming uncomfortably when he drags his knuckle along your cheek.

“Why?” you whisper, utterly, indescribably haunted.

“Did you not hear me earlier?” He offers you a warm smile, but it only makes you feel cold. “I intend to love you chastely. His ‘love’ is worthless—nothing but lust disguised as pure adoration. He failed to appreciate you in life, and thus it is a failure he shall die, his ugly sin exposed for the world to behold.”

Father Flamme presses the cloth to your cheek next. Not to clean blood, but to wipe the tear streaks and the nonexistent mark of where his fingertips once lingered.

“I have saved you from that monster. It may not seem so at this moment, for you are a lost lamb blinded by devilish temptations, but you will realize later this was for the best.”

You can’t form the words. You can’t even form thoughts. It’s all static.

“Do you understand, (Name)?”

You nod, but you really don’t.

ON A DARK, STORMY NIGHT.

You pace to and fro on the side of the road, clutching your stomach every fifteen seconds. Rain pelts your sweater, soaking through that and the little backpack hanging off of your shoulder with its single strap. There isn’t much inside. You could hardly pack it when your mother was in your ear, shouting a nasty set of lines: “You whorish, two-bit cunt! What do you think you’re doing, throwing away your life like this?! Who’s going to afford that parasite? Not me! Definitely not you! Not when you ought to be in school, not hopping on some man’s dick! Where is your shame?!”

Her slipper came down upon your arm, the back of your head, your neck, unrelenting in its whacks. You scrambled about in your room like a headless chicken, shielding your face and stomach when you could. She continued to berate you in that harsh, shrill tone of hers. Whenever your vision became blurred with tears, you had to hurry to blink them away so that they wouldn’t obscure your view of the path to the front door.

On your way out of your room, you managed to snatch an old sweater. She pursued in a furious flurry and this time you were sure, should she get a firm grasp on your arm, she’d kill you.

“Out! Out of my house!” she squawked when you stumbled down the steps in a blind panic. Rain wet your face, or maybe it was the tears. “You’re no child of mine. Don’t think about coming back here.”

The door was slammed so hard it shook in its frame.

So you gathered yourself, lifted your shirt to check the rounded dome of your stomach, and then pulled the sweater on over your head.

You walked. Past houses and storefronts, crossing busy streets, peering into the windows of a bar.

You walked. Under flickering lamp posts, through chilly rain, towards the edge of your broken world.

You walked. Until civilization gave way to sprawling darkness and trees. Until the path was muddied and slick. Until you were wading through thick, tall grass.

Now you walk up and down this strip of road, far from home and freezing-cold. You’re hungry, too. It’s been hours since the last car sped past, blissfully ignorant to your flailing arms and desperate shouts: “Wait! Please stop! Wait!”

You’re beginning to think you might die out here, alone and poor, a worthless nobody.

“Fuck,” you spit, wiping the tears/rain from your eyes. “Fuck!”

You kick a clump of grass onto the road and scream at the sky.

And then headlights roll over the hill, cutting through the gloom. Headlights that are attached to a car. A car!

Hope restored, you scurry onto the slick pavement and wave your arms about. When it seems like the car isn’t going to stop, you skitter onto the dirt path.

“Wait! Please wait!” you cry out, still gesturing wildly.

To your surprise and relief, the car eases to a stop just ahead and a window lowers slowly. It squeaks noisily, and you can hear the broken parts of the mechanism rattling inside the door. Happiness surges through you, and you approach the vehicle slowly. A figure comes into view, most of his face hidden in the shadows of his hood. He looks thoroughly soaked, as does the little boy snoozing in the passenger seat. He’s hugging a shovel in his sleep, a satisfied smile on his face. Both of them are clad in grimy, oversized raincoats. You think it’s dirt when you peer closely, but you’re not certain.

The man lifts his hand in greeting and you realize he’s wearing gloves.

“Well, hello there, little miss!” He flashes his teeth at you in a sharp, close-eyed smile. “Bit late to be out and about, don’tcha think?”

“I… I’m so sorry, but I desperately need a ride.”

A pair of brilliant orange eyes open to view you. He assesses you with a subtle once-over.

“A ride, you say? Hmm…” He strokes his chin with his hand, feigning deep thought. “Awfully unsafe for a lady to be wandering around in the dark.”

He could drive off any minute and you might never get a ride. You’re not sure how much longer you can last in this rain.

“I don’t have much money on me… I just… I really need to get out of this rain.” You cup the small bump hidden beneath your sweater and then flounder for the necklace around your throat. “I can give you this! A-And everything else in my bag. It’s not a lot, but maybe you can do something with it…”

The man raises a prominent eyebrow. The window is cracked just enough so he can look out at you, but you can’t reach in if you wanted to. Not that you would. Something about the filthy appearance of this man and his charismatic aura unsettles you. But he’s the second car you’ve seen tonight. The first car to have stopped for you. You can’t let this opportunity slip through your fingers no matter how suspicious he seems.

“What’s your name, little miss?”

“It’s (Name), sir. My mother kicked me out. I don’t have anywhere to go, but if you can just get me to the nearest shelter…”

He gazes through you rather than at you, his attention pinned on your stomach. A shadow passes over his face, but it’s quickly dispelled when he smiles.

“That doesn’t sound too difficult now, does it? I couldn’t possibly leave a little lady stranded in these elements. Why, anyone who would is simply heartless!” You hear the click of a lock. “Hop in. I’ll take you there.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Not at all. Thank you for stopping me. Otherwise I might’ve just passed you up.”

“I’m so grateful. I can’t thank you enough,” you confess, choking on your joy. You pull the door open and climb into the backseat. It’s very…messy, and it smells like smoke and wet earth and overall unpleasant things. Your nose wrinkles, but you remind yourself not to judge too scathingly. After all, you don’t look very neat yourself in your shabby sweater.

“You from around here?” the man asks once you’ve buckled in.

“Yes. Well, no. Um… I’m not sure how far from home I am.” You rub at your sore arms, teeth chattering. “I’ve j-just been walking all over, sir. U-Um… If I may, what’s your name?”

He scoffs lightheartedly, almost like it isn’t important. “I’m just an honest fellow trying to get home in this nasty weather.” This honest fellow indicates the boy beside him next. “It’s a bit of a drive and my little brother can’t quite stay up for the entirety of it. Kids, am I right? They think they’re stronger than the world with all of their confidence, but no one’s stronger than the inescapable call of sleep!”

You laugh into your hand, careful not to wake the boy. “I see. You must be coming back from a road trip then?”

“Precisely so, little miss. You’ve keen intuition.”

A comforting quiet blankets the inside of the car. You watch the trees pass while he drives. Eventually, they fall away to reveal a neighborhood you’ve never seen before. The houses are in disrepair, and everything looks grey. This isn’t where the shelter is, you realize, and your horror only multiplies when he turns down another road and parks in front of a decrepit-looking apartment complex.

“Time to wake up now.” He shakes the boy, who comes to with a few sleepy blinks. He notices you and smiles, waving with a flappy sleeve.

“Sir? Mr. Fellow—was it?—what is this place?” You shrink back into the car when he opens the door for you and offers his gloved hand.

“Why, this is the shelter!” He beams proudly. “Do you not see the windows? The roof? The shape of this lovely building? Clearly it is the shelter you’ve mentioned.”

“But this is…” Not that. Not the home I’m looking for. You hold your bag close to your chest and allow the honest fellow to help you out. The rain is but a soft pitter-patter now.

His hands fall upon your shoulders, trapping you in place. “What do you think, Gidel? I’d say this is better than any old shelter. Why, this is a glorious haven! As they say, a treasure is not yet treasure until it’s polished to a shine. Every gem is rough around the edges, wouldn’t you say so?”

The boy—Gidel—nods enthusiastically. You don’t trust him or the shovel he holds behind his back.

“Thank you for the ride. It was nice to meet both of you, but I can walk the rest of the way.”

“Nonsense! A lady should never walk alone at night. It’s much too dangerous.” He holds his hand over his heart and gasps dramatically. “My chest aches at the thought of it! What horrid beasts might lurk out there… You must allow us to show you just a pinch more of our hospitality. At least until this pesky rain abates.”

He smiles at you in a way that doesn’t give you a chance to get a word in. The car is shut and locked, and he twirls the key ring on his finger as he guides you towards the dingy building. Gidel hurries along after you, nodding in time with the honest fellow’s cheery humming.

MERRY.

Christmas music floods your brain, a loud, constant thrum of whimsical bells and chimes. The headphones are pulled from your person next, and suddenly a voice invades your pleasant dreams. Over and over, calling out to you…

“Sister…” A slight nudge. “Dearest sister of mine, please wake up…” A cold finger prods at your cheek.

Groaning, you shift in your sleep. The muscles in your face twitch with every persistent poke.

“(Name)?”

Your eyes peel open slowly, searching through the lamplight to find a pale face. “Huh… Mmh… What’s going on? Oh, it’s you, Skully. What’s wrong?”

He fidgets awkwardly where he stands. He almost looks like a real younger brother when he’s so restless, but his looming height is a reminder that he’s grown up just like you. With his gangly limbs, circular frames that sit crooked on his face, and unkempt bedhead with those troublesome strands that fluff up no matter how many times he smooths them down, he looks more like a deer caught in an oncoming car’s headlights.

You sit up in bed and rub the sleep from your eyes. “It’s way too early. The sun’s not even up yet! Why’re you awake?”

“I couldn’t possibly sleep,” he confesses, the words just spilling out, and he sounds ecstatically happy. “Not when Christmas is finally here. Aren’t you excited, Sister? Don’t you wish to see what Sandy Claws has brought us?”

Aren’t we a little old to believe in him still? you almost ask, but the question sticks in your throat when you notice the crimson speckled on Skully’s sweater vest. It stands out starkly against the white of his collared undershirt. Now you’re fully awake and worried. Very worried.

“Skully—”

“Come, come!”

He tugs at your arm, pulling the limp you from your bed. You allow yourself to be dragged like a ragdoll, led from the bedroom into the hall. The lights strung around the tree shine so brightly you can see their glow against the wall from the top of the stairs. His hand, cold and clammy, slides into yours. He’s always had a habit of clinging to you, of reaching for your hand, ever since the both of you were little. At your age now, it feels…weird. But his fingers are twining around yours and it’s impossible to pull away.

You descend the stairs with him and approach the sitting room. Dread pools in your stomach. You sniff at the air and choke on the acrid stench of iron.

“What is that?!” You pull your shirt up to your nose and attempt to yank away from him. “Skully, it smells gross.”

“No, it’s okay!” he assures, taking hold of your arm. A wobbly smile pulls his chapped lips apart. There’s a giddy mania spiraling in his orange eyes, and his voice lifts in pitch. His next words are spoken in a breathless ramble. “Just trust me. It’s a good gift. A great gift, really. You’ll see.”

You don’t want to see. Not when you spy a splash of liquid red staining the floor, peeking out at you from around the corner.

“Oh! Close your eyes. It’ll be a surprise!”

“Skully, I don’t want to. I… I don’t like surprises.”

“Oh, but this is a good one! I promise.” He squeezes your arm. “Please? You’ll like it.”

You doubt that, but his expression is so full of expectation that you give in with a sigh. Your eyes fall shut and Skully squeals in excitement.

“Wonderful! Allow me to escort you.” He sidles closer, his hands at your waist. “There… Just around this corner here. Oh, careful now. Watch your step.”

Your nostrils prickle at the intense smell. The path he leads you through is deliberate. You’re about to open your eyes, but then his large hands fall over them.

“Not yet! I haven’t done the count.” He inhales a steadying breath. It rattles in his throat. “O-Okay. One. Two… Three.” His fingers part and then the veil lifts. “Merry Christmas, Sister.”

Nothing could have prepared you for what you find lying in front of you. Amidst presents wrapped in glittering foils are the brutalized corpses of your parents. They’re sprawled in a smattering of blood. In fact, blood is everywhere—flecked on the curtains, on the few ornaments hanging from the lowest boughs of the tree, on the wallpaper. You’re not sure if you can even call such slaughter a simple murder. This was a slaying. An execution. You spy the deep gash carved into your mother’s throat and your hands fly to your own neck. A ghastly shriek pierces the air, practically torn from your lungs.

Skully flinches, panic twisting his kind, youthful features. “Oh! Oh, no, no! Don’t cry.” He takes hold of your head, sandwiching it between both of his hands—hands that so cruelly cut down your mother and his father. “Please don’t cry…”

“Oh, my… My God… You… Y-You killed them!”

You peek at your stepfather out of some stupid instinct to hope for the best, and another sob bubbles up when you realize he and your mother are truly dead. Unable to look upon such a grisly scene any longer, you stagger away and turn sharply on your heel. Bile tinges your tongue, but you quickly slap a hand over your mouth and swallow it down. Skully braces you before you can fall over, wrapping his long arms around you from behind.

“For you!” he insists. “I did it for you—for us, dearest sister! They… They were going to send me away. I couldn’t allow that! If we were to be separated… It would tear my heart apart.” He clutches you tighter as if you’re a teddy bear. “I tried to explain it to them—truly, I did—but they couldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand. So I had to do it, (Name). I couldn’t allow them to send me away. You understand, don’t you?”

Gingerly, he wipes your tears away and then leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. When that doesn’t change anything, he frowns.

Seemingly inconsolable, you continue to bawl even though your throat is dry and your head is aching and your heart is hurting. He releases his hold on you enough for you to stumble away.

Ever the adamant one, Skully tries again. He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips. You slide down the wall and he follows you, caging you in the corner.

“Dearest sister of mine, don’t cry…”

His hand cups your cheek next, and his thumb swipes at a stray tear.

“I’m here for you. Always.”

Your shadows are splayed against wallpaper striped with blood. His looms over yours, almost swallowing it whole. In green and red lights, your reflections caught in glass ornaments, Skully seals that promise with a press of his mouth to yours.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo flamme x reader #yandere fellow honest #yandere fellow honest x reader #yandere skully j graves #yandere skully j graves x reader #tw: stepcest #n/sfw

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kashverse · 18 days ago

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if there is one child that must be appreciated, it is latte. a good latte deserves cute latte art, just as much as you deserve to witness the absolute chaos that will unfold when you put your boyfriend and a delicate artform in the same room. because, naturally, you—being the genius that you are—decide that these two gifts to humanity must be combined. your boyfriend, with all his charm, skill, or in some cases, sheer unrelenting ego, should absolutely try his hand at making tiny, adorable masterpieces in steamed milk. what could possibly go wrong? …a lot. a whole lot. but you’re in too deep now. the class is booked. the milk is frothing. and your boyfriend? oh, he is about to take this way too seriously.

now, if there’s one thing sukuna cannot stand, it’s being patronized. and somehow, standing there, all six-foot-something, surrounded by people who gasp use stencils for their latte art makes him feel violently disrespected. oh, you think he needs this? you think he can’t make art out of steamed milk? please. his hands were carving flesh into art long before this instructor was even a twinkle in their ancestor’s eye. but if you thought he’d refuse to participate, you don’t know sukuna well enough. no, he takes this as a personal challenge. he learns. he perfects. and when he finally presents his latte art, it’s a perfectly detailed demon face, sharp-toothed and menacing. “oh, uh… cute pitbull!” you say, nudging him before the instructor has a heart attack. sukuna nods sagely. yes. pitbull. definitely. but when it comes to adults he despises? oh, he’s petty. that one customer who dared to critique his “overly aggressive aesthetic”? congratulations, buddy, you just drank a latte cursed with an ancient sigil. sukuna watches them sip it with a smirk, arms crossed, utterly delighted with his petty vengeance. “how’s the flavor?” he asks, smug as hell. the customer just blinks, confused. they’ll probably have bad luck for a week. or diarrhea. who’s to say?

choso, on the other hand, has an existential awakening. at first, he’s simply fascinated. art… can exist in coffee? he stares at the swirling crema, eyes widening as he processes this revelation. the instructor barely explains the basics before choso stands up, dramatically setting his cup down. “this,” he announces, “is a reflection of the fleeting nature of life.” people murmur in agreement, assuming he’s some kind of deep, artistic genius. but oh, no. he’s spiraling now. “you create it, admire it, and then—destroy it with a single sip. isn’t that cruel? isn’t that… life itself?” you have to physically drag him out before he turns the workshop into a philosophical symposium on the ephemerality of human existence.

geto, meanwhile, is here for a completely different reason. does he need to learn latte art? no. does he want to? also no. but can he use it for his own agenda? absolutely. he skips right past the cute heart and bear designs and learns how to write with milk foam. the next thing you know, you glance at his cup and see “JOIN ME” written in elegant cursive atop a matcha latte. “are you serious?” you ask. he just smiles.

“art is meant to convey a message.”

“your message is cult recruitment.”

“my message is inclusion,” he corrects. you have to sit him down and give him a long lecture on why recruiting followers through artisanal coffee is not ethical. he nods solemnly but then winks at the barista like you didn’t just spend fifteen minutes trying to knock some morality into him.

toji, on the other hand, is struggling. “this ain’t for people like me,” he jokes at first, grinning. but five lattes later, he is no longer grinning. his first attempt at a heart? roadkill. the second attempt? roadkill that got run over twice. “babe,” you say gently, looking at the cup.

“don’t,” he warns.

“i just think—”

“DON’T.”

legend says he’s still in the kitchen at midnight, aggressively steaming milk and muttering “stupid fuckin’ foam” under his breath.

meanwhile, gojo…is fighting for his life in this class. he learned latte art off of tiktok one time and now thinks he’s god’s gift to coffee. he enters the workshop smug, flicking his hair and winking at the instructor like he’s about to change the game. and for a while? yeah. he’s decent. he gets the basics down pretty quickly and flexes at every given opportunity. but then. then. some sixteen-year-old prodigy casually creates a mona lisa on their latte. gojo short-circuits. his hair literally stands on end. “this is war,” he mutters. and now he’s hyper-fixated on beating this kid at latte art, muttering “i’m the strongest” while aggressively swirling his milk foam.

but then, there’s nanami, the epitome of poise, precision, and patience. he treats the class like it’s an artform—because to him, it is. he listens intently, follows instructions meticulously, and in just one session, his latte art is restaurant-tier. and it doesn’t stop there. every morning, without fail, he hands you a latte with an intricate, handcrafted design. a heart. a tulip. one time, even a self-portrait. your local café is begging for you to convince him to quit his job and work for them instead. he refuses, of course. but now? well. you kinda can’t start your day without a perfect latte from nanami’s personal, high-precision coffee service.

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checkeredflagggs · 7 days ago

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Febuwhump Day 22 (Alt 1): Major Character Death

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

Masterlist | Taglist

y/n_gossip

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 231,445 others

tagged: y/n_rb, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris

y/n_gossip: during this small break in the schedule, y/n spent some of that time with Lando, Charles, and Max! They streamed together quite a bit and went through a handful of games.

What were your favorite moments?

view all comments

user1: them playing among us!

↳user2: oh I loved that!!

↳user1: they made it extremely fun to watch!

user3: personally I liked Minecraft — very soothing

↳user4: y/n kept pushing Lando off cliffs??

↳user3: well that was just funny

↳y/n_rb: see you get it!

user5: personally i liked watching y/n kill off lando in every version of the game she could

↳user5: like even in Minecraft sandbox, she was pushing him off cliffs, building him into the buildings, laying tnt all around him

↳user6: gotta respect that hater grind!

user7: i liked when they raced…

↳user8: those were funny! Cause they kept changing the rules on themselves and running each other if track

↳use7: they forgot they needed to win. They just tried to get the others to lose!

alex_albon: what??? Have I been erased from this group?

↳georgerussell63: I know what you mean…

↳y/n_rb: sorry only those of us who hadn’t driven for Williams were allowed to play

landonorris: stop cheering her on! SHE JEPT KILLING ME OFK!!

↳user9: yeah that’s what made it so funny

↳landonorris: bullying me?? On my own comment thread?

↳y/n_rb: more likely then you think!

Private Messages, the Grid (Unserious)

y/n_rb

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 1,753,964 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, landonorris, maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, alex_albon

y/n_rb: join us tonight! Because there’s an imposter among us

view all comments

user10: Hell yeah!!

user11: oh I’m so glad I’m free to watch this

landonorris: it’s you. You’re the imposter

↳y/n_rb: ok why the attack? We haven’t even started yet

↳landonorris: you’re just gonna go after me the entire time

↳y/n_rb: again I was only the imposter once last time!!

↳landonorris: and yet…

↳charles_leclerc: see! We’re already having fun

oscarpiastri: wow…no invitations for us?

↳logansargeant: she’s forgotten us

↳liamlawson30: becomes a big shot racer and forgets where she came from…

↳y/n_rb: when I asked if you guys wanted to play, you acted like I asked you to travel the 9 circles of hell

↳user12: that bad huh?

↳y/n_rb: yes! They were very dramatic

↳user12: I actually meant you tbh liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, liamlawson30

↳y/n_rb: rude!

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67 @Americanvenom13 @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @yawn-zi

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pricklyjim · 1 month ago

Note

Oh god, I read the posts about relationships (it was really interesting) and I gasped when I read the bit about Magnus and Rodimus. If it's okay, can I ask what the heck happened?? It made me feel so sad for them! Ouch!

This AU is a really interesting idea, and it's cool to see how it's developing :]

I was going to explain it, but I decided to write it out instead. It doesn’t have the same impact when explained, and I think it’ll be better understood this way. So, here is what happened.

also i’ve written Rodimus’s because writing hot rod over and over makes me laugh. he’s hot rod here- i’m just lazy.

[Rodimus and Magnus LORE]

Cybertron…

The night’s air is cool and the the stars above Iacon burn brightly, their light reflecting off tall pristine buildings that extend high above the ground.

Rodimus sits on the edge of a towering platform belonging to the prime’s, overlooking the city, his legs dangling in the open air.

In his hands, he turns over a small, metallic card—a key card, well-worn but lovingly maintained.

Magnus stands behind him, his silhouette contrasted against the backdrop of the city lights. “It’s late,” Magnus states, his tone ever knowing.

“You should rest. Tomorrow is—”

“Yeah. I know.” Rodimus interrupts, his voice uncharacteristically void.

“The big day. The moment I’ve been ‘destined for’ my—— whole life.”

Magnus steps closer, crossing his arms. “That’s right. Tomorrow you’re Rodimus Prime. It’s what we’ve been working toward for years.”

Rodimus passively turns the key card in his servo watching as the shining edges catch the faint city light.

“What you’ve worked toward,” he mutters. “I’m starting to wonder if it was ever what I truly wanted.”

Magnus frowned. “I—”

“Do you know what this is?” Rodimus asked, holding up the key card without turning around to face Magnus.

Magnus glances at it, then responds without hesitation. “Your key card. To your private ship.”

Rodimus nods. “Yep. My ship. My one little piece of me in this whole crazy world.” He laughs softly, though the sound, hollow.

“Not that I get to keep it. After all Head-Primes aren’t supposed to have personal possessions, right? Everything I own gets handed over to the Council and other primes. Even this.”

Magnus doesn’t reply.

Rodimus finally looks back at him, his optics bright with something between defiance and last minute desperation.

“That’s why I want you to have it.”

Magnus blinks, taken aback. “What?”

Rodimus stands tall and confident, turning to face Magnus fully. He holds out the key card, the edges glowing faintly with a unique encryption code on its surface.

“Take it. Take my ship, Magnus. And take me with you. Let’s get out of here—

away from the Council, the Matrix, that stupid fragging ancient song- All of it. We can go somewhere no one will find us. Live a life that’s ours. Maybe Alpha four? or three- three has better energon-“

Magnus stares at the key card, his expression in shock. “you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” Rodimus states, stepping closer. “For once, I know exactly what I’m saying. I’ve spent my whole life being told what I’m meant to be, what I’m meant to do. But this—you—this is what I want. I don’t care about being Head-Prime, Magnus. I care about you. What we have- means more to me any anything in my life- If I can’t have possessions- fine- but if I can’t have you- as we are now-“

“Don’t do this—” Magnus’s voice is quiet, hesitant.

“Please,” Rodimus whispers. “I’ve given up so much already. Don’t make me give this up too.”

Magnus’s optics flicker, his gaze shifting from Rodimus’s to the key card in his hand. He could see the desperation, the vulnerability in the mechs expression, the unspoken plea.

“No,” Magnus says, his voice low but steady.

He forces himself to stand firm.

Rodimus’s optics widen. “What?”

Magnus steps back, shaking his head, trying to convince himself this isn’t real. He wishes it wasn’t, it makes his processor fill with overwhelming static.

“I can’t. You have a duty—a responsibility— As do I- to Cybertron. To your people. Running away from that isn’t the answer. This- isn’t Primus’s plan”

“To scrap with Primus!” Rodimus snaps, his voice shrill. “What about what I want, Magnus? What about what YOU want?”

Magnus’s spark twists painfully at the crack in Rodimus’s voice box, but he doesn’t let it show.

“This is more important than what you want,” he states firmly.

“You’re destined for something greater than yourself. I didn’t train you to abandon that. I trained you to rise to it. To be the prime we need.”

Rodimus staggers back, his grip tightening on the key card. “So that’s it? You’re just going to let us walk into a life we never wanted?”

Magnus hesitates, then steps forward gripping onto Rodimus, his voice calculated.

“‘I’want to do what’s right. By everyone. Us leaving together? Listen to yourself—- It’s ridiculous! Cybertron doesn’t exist without us, when the scriptures come to fruition, you- we need to be here for it.”

Rodimus stares at him, his optics wide with a mixture of hurt and anger. Then, without a word, he throws the card to the ground at Magnus’s feet. letting it clatter against the platform, its faint glow flickering to a dull nothingness.

“I guess, then, you’ve made your choice,” Rodimus states bitterly, his voice trembling.

He turns away, his shoulders hunching and his steps heavy, his head bowing with the weight of tomorrow.

Magnus watches him go, his fists clenching at his sides. He looks down at the key card, a faint reminder of what he’d just refused. He told himself he’d done the right thing, that this was for Rodimus’s own good.

But as the quiet of the night collapses in around him, Magnus couldn’t shake the feeling he’d just turned away from the one thing he ever actually wanted to protect…

and in the future?

Magnus thinks about that night often. Sometimes, in the tactical planning office now owned by Orion Pax, he finds his mind drifting back to it like clockwork…

He wonders if they would have been happy—truly happy—leaving with one another. He imagines it sometimes…

their silhouettes pressed against the stars, the hum of a ships engine carrying them across the cosmos.

But the thought always ends the same, it zips through his mind as quickly as a commit and is replaced with his current bleak reality.

His gaze drops to the grey keycard that somehow makes its way into his hands, the card worn down in some spots from years of restless touching.

It feels heavier than it should, weighed down by the memories of its previous owner.

He wonders… Did Rodimus hate him in the end? He must have. After all, he let him walk to his death with confidence, encouraged him to believe in the lies—a false song with hollow truths.

The keycard slips through his fingers, falling in slow motion towards a puddle of cold, energon.

Magnus stares at it blankly, now realizing his cheeks, wet. When had he started crying?

Though the question doesn’t matter. Not really, It feels like he’s been crying forever, crying, praying, hoping to wake into a diffrent reality with each passing day…

i hope you guys are okay with non megop stuff! because although it’s what i mainly post i am a huge fan of other ships🫶❤️

this is set the day before his coronation, so he is going through his breakup here as well, that’s why he looks so sad here.

#transformers #rodimus #ultra magnus #lore

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wave2tyun · 1 year ago

Text

meddle about | ☆

pairing: idol!yeonjun x idol!reader

genre: idol!au, best friends to lovers, some fluff but also a bit suggestive (?) towards the end

prompts: – “you’re blushing”

– “i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now”

warnings: none!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: the inspiration for this came from a wonho photoshoot behind the scenes clip that i randomly saw on ig reels........😟 i hope there aren't any mistakes left in this because i've been lazy and going only by trust when i repost fics asdbhja

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

you and yeonjun didn’t exactly meet…under the greatest circumstances.

as txt’s fame was continuously on the rise, there was no way you had never heard of yeonjun, or the name tomorrow x together. however, it was only when you had your comeback stage at inkigayo that you finally got to see yeonjun in real life, and not just on a screen.

you expected things to go smoothly. yeonjun was going to just take your interview, and then you were going to simply perform with your group on stage, as usual.

realistically speaking, that was supposed to be it- nothing more than a polite, professional interaction, he was the mc after all. you didn’t even think you’d cross paths with him throughout the day again. but the lunch break had something -quite staggering- in store for you:

the inkigayo sandwich. those words still make you shudder.

as an idol, you had to have one, at least once. it was the talk of town after all, even though the combination of egg, crab and strawberry jam- all squished together between 3 pieces of white bread- didn’t exactly sound appealing to you.

you gulped as you looked at the piece of food in your hands; the smell wasn’t that appetizing either, and you wondered how it was possible for them to have such high sales for a shitty product.

you didn’t want to do it, but the thought of wasting your money without at least having a bite was haunting you. you closed your eyes, anticipating the worst outcome imaginable as the sandwich came closer and closer towards your mouth.

“hey- at least remove that paper before you start eating” one of your members said, making you frown. paper? what paper? the ingredients of the sandwich were already weird enough, what did they add that paper for?

confused, you opened your eyes again, a small note had been carefully placed somewhere between the plastic wrapper and the bread. grossed out, you removed it, moving towards the trash can to throw it away, only to get a glance of a phone number written on the back of it, making you stop in your tracks.

‘call me ;) - choi yeonjun’

now, you see- you only knew that the inkigayo sandwich was famous, you didn’t know why it was famous.

you angrily searched for choi yeonjun around the cafeteria, shoving the sandwich towards his chest once you found him “what the fuck is this?” you hissed appaled by his actions. not sparing him a single moment to respond, you instantly got into a rant about how you were ‘put in danger’ by him for placing something (almost) inedible in your lunch.

he stared at you with big eyes and raised eyebrows, panicking that you’d blow this out of proportion even more if he excused himself before you were done blowing off some steam. he knew very well not to argue with a sleep deprived person who was also hungry.

“that actually wasn’t meant for you…” he muttered in the end, biting his cheek.

“oh.”

on the way back to the dorms, you swore you’d never step foot back into inkigayo ever again, or at least not until yeonjun stepped down from his position as an mc.

despite the seemingly traumatic event, you still kept the piece of paper containing his number, jam stain and all. you fiddled it around your fingers as you rolled around in bed, unable to fall asleep. it was way past midnight, and the remorse you felt for not having apologised to yeonjun was keeping you wide awake. you had been too embarrassed to utter any more words after hearing his reply and used the first opportunity -which was a member calling out for you- to leave the room.

the guilt was eating you up, and, in the end, you decided it was best to at least say sorry to him through text. and so you did- not exactly expecting much besides getting blocked by him.

turns out yeonjun found the situation more amusing rather than infuriating. he accepted your apology with ease, and you promised that you’d buy him lunch the next time you visit inkigayo, as emotional compensation.

yeonjun, however, lied to you that day. the phone number in the sandwich was, in fact, meant for you. he heard from his seniors that ‘back in the day’, this was a particularly popular method to start dating between idols. when it was announced that you’d perform on the day he was mc-ing, he found his chance, took it, then pretty much failed miserably. his attempt at getting to know you better was somewhat saved by your apology text. after the whole ordeal, he decided that it was better to take it step by step and develop his friendship with you before dipping his toes into the dating scheme once again.

bit by bit- yeonjun began to reveal his flirty nature. first, he started bringing food and drinks to your company whenever you told him you had to stay up late, practicing overnight. then, he made sure to always compliment how you looked in music videos or album teasers, sometimes even sending coffee trucks to the filming sites to support you. finally, he started bringing you flowers whenever you were done with comeback stages. the change in his attitude was making you question the status of your relationship. still, knowing how risky this all was, you decided it was foolish to jump to any conclusions- although a part of your heart did cling tightly onto the hope that he did this because he saw you as something more than a friend.

it was no surprise to the public eye that the two of you were close friends in the industry. so, when elle korea wanted a photoshoot between a pair with good chemistry, yeonjun ran to his managers, begging to convince some of the higher-ups to recommend the two of you. not a single soul in the company was able to resist him, so he successfully scored the spot. however, you were only informed that you received an offer for the photoshoot, not that yeonjun had been involved in this whole ordeal.

the concept was not quite what you were expecting.

when you heard the words “a pair with good chemistry” you were expecting a fun, bubbly photoshoot, something colorful maybe- not a sensual, romantic theme. you choked on your spit when they showed you the outfit you were supposed to wear, then choked again when you saw yeonjun’s outfit: black pants and a blue satin button-up shirt that had more than 3 buttons left open, exposing the skin of his chest.

and -as if the revealing clothes weren’t enough- there was one more detail left that would supposedly “tie this all together”: a kiss mark. on yeonjun’s neck.

the staff handed you a tube of red lipstick, shoving you and yeonjun in a private dressing room before you could even process the situation.

you stole a look at yeonjun, who pursed his lips, trying to contain his laugh as he made eye contact with you.

“did you know about this?” you asked him with a serious face, pointing the lipstick towards him. why were you the only one baffled here?

yeonjun couldn’t help but let out tiny squeaks as he struggled calm down, your shocked, accusatory expression all too entertaining for him “no” he snickered “why? are you nervous? think you can’t do it?” he crossed his arms.

the attitude with which he said that only earned him a scoff from you “of course i can do it” you said as you walked towards the mirror. once you were in front of it though, you were suddenly way more aware of how sweaty your palms were getting, hands trembling a bit as you put the lipstick on.

yeonjun was never one to shy away from physical touch. you were used to receiving hugs from him, sometimes even having him hold onto your hand or arm, swinging them playfully whenever you walked together. but this? this felt…different.

intimate.

it was like a possible breach within your friendship. and while you weren’t exactly nervous about the situation itself, you were definitely afraid about what was going to happen between the two of you after.

yeonjun was already behind you once you finished putting on the makeup and turned around. the playful smirk he’s had ever since you both entered the room never left his face. he lightly quirked up an eyebrow, provoking you to make the move- curious to see if your earlier statement was the truth or whether they were just empty words. unsure what to do with your hands, your fingers didn’t let go of the lipstick tube, playing with it in a restless manner as you inched closer towards yeonjun’s neck. the citrus fragrance of his perfume still lingered on the skin, and you closed your eyes as you left a quick kiss there, the touch too light to leave a mark visible enough.

“you’re blushing” yeonjun chuckled, tilting his head as he looked in the mirror behind you, clicking his tongue “that’s not right…” he muttered. his gaze was fixated on your face for a few seconds, admiring the pink dusting your cheeks. then, they trailed off to your hands, snatching the item to cover his own lips in that same crimson color. “this is how you do it” he whispered, dipping his head down, arms sneaking around your waist simultaneously. warm breath on your neck, chest flushed against yours, yeonjun could feel your racing pulse underneath his lips as he pressed a long kiss on the hot skin. the chilling sensation running down your spine had your hands unconsciously reaching out for his forearms, holding onto them to keep yourself steady and not slip away from his grasp.

“i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now” he breathed out, fingers tracing lines along the small of your back. seeing that you weren’t pushing him away, his face didn’t leave its close spot to your body. instead- his lips travelled along the skin, pressing featherly kisses along the way- nibbling, lightly biting, the red marks blooming being hidden away by the lipstick covering them.

the mirrors, the vanity lights, even the photoshoot itself, they were all turning into a hazy memory as you were becoming more and more enthralled by him. completely absorbed by his touch on your body, you felt like you wouldn’t be able to breathe properly again until he carried on with the next step. “jun-” the sound of the nickname was enough to send an electrifying jolt throughout his heart. his own breathing was irregular as he stopped, distancing himself a bit from your neck to lift his head up, plush lips and smudged lipstick coming into sight.

“we’re not leaving this room until you kiss me on the lips”

taglist: @huekalover3000

#wave2tyun #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #txt fic #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt smau #txt headcanons #txt yeonjun #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fic #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun headcanons

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reginaphalange2403 · 1 year ago

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Never Again

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Despite an intense dislike for one another, you and Bucky begrudgingly get paired together for a mission. You’re forced to look past your differences when things so south.

Warnings: Canon level violence, asshole Bucky (at first), enemies to lovers vibes, other mcu characters make appearances. Word count: 6.1k

a/n: AHHHH my first fic in like 6 months! this is also the first time I've ever written for Bucky or written anything like this. It was a lot of fun and I hope I did him justice lol. Enjoy!

The loud hissing of the Keurig was a rude awakening to your 7am start to the day. Unfortunately, Steve had decided to hold a team conference meeting at 8. Why he chose to annoy you all like this, you weren’t sure.

“Are you fucking done yet?” You instantly recognized the deep, rough voice muttering under his breath behind you. Bucky had his arms folded and was impatiently waiting for you to finish up at the machine so he could make his own cup.

“Already have a stick up your ass today, huh Barnes?” You spit back at him before moving to let him use the Keurig.

“Well, I wouldn’t have one if you weren’t the first thing I saw when I came down the stairs.”

Damn. That stung. “Have you ever been nice for once in your life? Or is being a dick just a permanent part of your personality?”

At your words, Bucky looked up at you and feigned offense “Oh, I’m nice” He assured you in an almost sweet tone, before turning cold again “…to people that deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, muttering a ‘whatever’, and left the kitchen to go take a seat in the conference room. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an atypical conversation for you to have with Bucky. Ever since you had joined the team almost a year ago - at Natasha Romanoff’s request - Bucky had been anything but welcoming. At first, you thought it was just friendly banter, him trying to sarcastically intimidate you, but it was clear by now that he genuinely had a deep distaste for you.

Soon enough, everyone else started to file in for the meeting. Nat smiled as she took the seat next to you, her regular spot, and quietly started asking you about your morning. Bucky was the last one to enter the room, and by that point the only seat left was the one on your other side.

He glared at you as he sat down.

“It’s not my fault you’re always late to these things” You quipped under your breath.

“Don’t push it, sweetheart” Bucky frustratingly muttered, and you quickly opened your mouth to reply before Natasha interrupted,

“Don’t bother with him, Y/N. He’s always a grump in the mornings”

‘No, he’s always a grump to me’ you thought to yourself, but kept your mouth shut.

“Good Morning, everyone” Steve finally got started with the meeting, a cheery grin on his face that was all too happy for 8am, in your opinion.

“As you all know, for months now we’ve been trying to track down where exactly Ian Haverford and his men have been setting up camp and operating their illegal activities” Most recently, the team had been working on taking down a group of rouge scientists. They had somehow been creating and using a serum that was similar to the super soldier serum. A antidote that made them have increased strength, speed and agility. They then used their new enhancements to rob and kill storeowners, evade the police, and then subsequently sell the drugs and weapons that they had stolen.

“We’ve finally located their compound, up in rural Virginia, we-“

“What he meant to say was I located their compound in Virginia” Tony cheekily butt in.

Steve sighed, having to stop his own eye roll, “Fine, yes, Tony located the compound. Anyway, as I was saying…We believe that that’s where they’re making the serum. The sooner we go in, the less time they have to continue using the serum and giving it to more people. Now, I didn’t necessarily think this was a task we all needed to partake in. It really only requires two people to take down Haverford and gather intel on what chemicals they’ve been using”

Steve took a big breath before revealing who he had assigned to the mission, knowing he’d have hell to pay, “Y/N and Bucky will be heading to Virginia tomorrow morning-“

“Are you serious Rogers?!” You immediately confronted Steve’s decision as you heard Bucky next you,

“You’ve got to be kidding me” He mumbled, clearly as annoyed as you were.

Steve put his hands up defensively, “I know the two of you don’t always get along, but I was hoping this assignment would allow you to work together and actually have to interact beyond your bickering”

You had never been on a mission with just Bucky before. Of course, the two of you had been on missions with the rest of the avengers together, but never just the two of you.

Steve continued, “Besides, we need someone who’s a super soldier to infiltrate the compound. Bucky has the strength and speed to match that of Haverford’s people. And Y/N, you also have enhancements, it makes sense to send the both of you in together.” He concluded by basically saying his decision was final, and that you and Buck would be leaving on a quinjet first thing tomorrow.

During your years in the red room, you had been injected with various substances and drugs that over time had enhanced your agility, flexibility, reflexes and even your sight. But you didn’t see how that made you a necessary aspect to this assignment. You were sure Steve was just using that as an excuse, he really just wanted you to get along better with Bucky.

Speaking of which, Buck stood up from his chair as you looked over at him, he glowered at you for a moment before scoffing, “Guess I’ll just have to grin and bear it” and with that he left the room.

You stayed, waiting for everyone else to file out so that you could speak with Steve privately. Natasha gave you a sympathetic look and squeezed your shoulder, as she was the last one to head out after talking to Steve for a while herself. You were always sort of jealous of their friendship. Of course, you had Nat. Who was your closest confidant in the group. But you also wanted to be close with the guys as well. You supposed Steve was your friend, but sometimes it felt like he looked at you as more of a younger sister.

Finally, it was just you and Steve alone in the room and you were still sitting in your same seat, Steve standing at the head of the table. He tilted his head towards you and quirked his eyebrows, waiting for you to say something.

“Why does he hate me?” You asked quietly. You had always wanted to go to Steve for advice on how to handle Bucky, but never wished to cause a rift in their friendship or make Steve feel like he was put in the middle of something.

His eyes went soft and he sighed, “Oh Y/N” He began gently “I know it may come off that way, but Buck doesn’t hate you. He just…” Steve looked to find the right words, “has a hard time handling his emotions and how he feels about people… especially people that bring up past trauma for him”

Steve’s little hint helped you clue in to what he was trying to imply. You knew that Bucky had a history with the red room, long before you ever did, but you never really knew the details of it or how he was involved. You were saved from Dreykov almost a year ago when Natasha returned to destroy him. You were one of Yelena’s closest friends and she had introduced you to Nat, who then saw how skilled you were and decided to invite you to join the avengers, since you really had no other home to go to. Yelena meanwhile, had wanted to enjoy her freedom a little more and chose to see the world a bit before deciding to join any sort of vigilante team. Though Natasha always held out hope that she would finally join one day when she felt ready.

“But Nat’s from the red room too!” You defended yourself, “And Bucky treats her perfectly fine! It’s not my fault that my past is what it is. I can’t help the fact that I was raised there, why does he have to hold that against me?” You started to get emotional and Steve could tell, so he began to try and explain his friends behavior.

“Well, he’s gotten to know Natasha for a few years now, so I think they’re on better terms. Plus he kinda owes her one for how she saved both our asses during the whole…sokovia accords thing” Steve said the last part quietly while sort of shamefully looking down. Despite the fact that it was worked out now, that whole incident with him, Tony and Bucky still deeply bothered Steve to even bring up.

He continued after a moment, “He doesn’t hold it against you Y/N, it’s not your fault. He just doesn’t like the memories you bring up for him, the things you remind him of. And he doesn’t know how to properly process and work through them, so instead he just takes out that pent up anger and self hatred on you. It’s not fair to you, but it’s also not your fault.”

“Get him to see a therapist then” you muttered.

Steve scoffed, “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

He then walked around the length of the table to where you were sitting and gave you a pleading look, “Just give him a chance. Hopefully this mission will be the thing that finally gets him to see you in a different light. I know it’s hard to believe, but he really does have a sweet, soft side under all that brooding, if you dig deep enough” And that was what Steve left you with as he walked out, leaving you alone to mull over what he had said.

———————

For the rest of that day, you and Bucky both avoided each other. You spent most of the afternoon locked up in your room or in the gym, perfecting a few moves with Nat’s help in preparation for your assignment. You didn’t see Bucky all day, you assumed he also was doing his best to not run into you.

Now, you were seated across from him on the quinjet, an awkward silence taking up the majority of the ride to a rural part of Virginia. He barely even looked at you for the entire 2 hour flight. Mostly staring down at his hands with airpods in, or having his head tilted back and eyes closed. As you neared the end of your trip, jet about to touch down, you noticed Bucky finally didn’t have headphones in, so you decided it would be a good time to set some things straight before you literally went into battle with him.

Cautiously, you spoke up, “Look, I know we don’t necessarily see eye to eye but we really need to-“

He cut you off sharply “Once we touch down I’ll take the northeast side of the compound and you can take the south side. They apparently keep their lab in a big room on the south side, so you head that way and ransack the lab while I take down Haverford, who’s quarters are up in the north end. Got it?” Not even listening to what you had tried to say, Bucky simply started barking out a game plan at you.

“Sure, but I was saying that we-“

Bucky sighed dramatically, “Look Y/N, we just need to do our damn jobs and get this over with. Alright?”

“But Steve said-“

“I don’t care what Steve said.” He snapped, “I’m not here to make nice.”

And with that, you sat in silence again for the last few minutes of the flight. The quinjet landed in an open forrest area, roughly a 10 minute walk away from where Haverford’s compound was supposed to be. Of course, you couldn’t land right next to it without risking them hearing and giving yourselves away. So, you and Bucky began the short trek to the complex, once again in complete silence the whole way there.

Finally, you arrived upon a large monster of a building. It took up almost the entirety of the empty field that it occupied, with no windows around it whatsoever. To anyone else, it looked like from the outside to be just an eery abandoned building. You and Buck snuck around to the backside where a hatch door was used to get into the lower level of the building.

“When we’re done,” Bucky finally spoke for the first time in over 15 minutes “How about we meet up back here at this door, so that we can leave asap and not waste time trying to find each other in this fucking maze. Good?”

You swallowed, remembering the “plan” Bucky had laid out earlier on the jet. You really didn’t feel right about splitting up with him. The compound was massive and neither of you had ever navigated it before. Sure, Steve had shown you a basic floor plan of it and talked about where he believed they were making the serum, but that was it. You didn’t know your way around this territory, and you didn’t know what Haverford’s men were like. And on this mission, it was just you and Buck. You didn’t have the other avengers around to look out for you, or be your eyes and ears over the comms.

“Bucky, I don’t know if we should separate. This place is big.” You finally admitted.

“It’s nothing you can’t handle” He grumbled out, which should have sounded like a compliment but came out as more of something to shut you up and get on with it.

“But what if one of us gets injured or can’t find our way back to the door?” You asked, embarrassed to be admitting your nerves to him. Bucky could see for a moment that you were genuinely anxious about this.

“We have the comms in our ears,” He began in a slightly softer tone than he had ever spoken to you before, “If you need help, just talk to me. I’ll be in your ear the whole time”

You nodded, still a little worried but trying not to show it.

“Splitting up is the fastest way to do this. And the faster we get this done, the less time we have to spend together.” Ah, there was the Bucky you knew. Back to making jabs at you. That was the last you spoke before he broke the door open and you were in.

—————————

As discreetly as possible, you made your way through the compound, quietly trying to get to the south wing without being heard or seen. Steve said that they most likely were keeping their lab in the largest room in the building, which supposedly should be through the last door on the south side. As long as you could find it, get the records and evidence that you needed, and get back to the exit in time to meet Bucky, you’d be fine.

You could hear Bucky through the comms, sounds of grunting and punching obviously coming from him fighting Ian Haverford’s men that he had come into contact with.

“Looking for something princess?” You immediately stopped in your tracks at the sound of a deep sinister voice snarling at you. Whipping around, you saw one of Ian’s goonies standing just a few feet from you.

Instantly he charged at you, but it was nothing you hadn’t ever dealt with. Before he could grab you, you took hold of his arm and twisted it behind his back, affectively turning his entire body away from you. Then, using the Widow’s Bite armor that were around your wrists, you tased him in the neck, causing him to fall completely unconscious.

It was then that you realized you had made it to the end of the hallway, and thus the last door which was supposed to be their lab. Prepared for men to potentially be in there, you unholstered one of your firearms, and promptly kicked down the door.

To your shock, the room had no occupants. You quickly reached over to find a light switch, and what you saw next was infuriating. It indeed was Ian Haverford’s lab. Full of tables and stations that held different mixed drugs and chemicals that he was using to create his own super soldier serum, one that he then used on himself and his accomplices. You also saw a station that was entirely made up of a large desktop connected to multiple computers.

You started to make your way towards the computers so that you could plug in your hard-drive and collect the data that would supply the team with how Haverford had been making the serums. But before you could get there, a white, powdery substance started to sprits down from what looked like emergency sprinklers that were on the ceiling. The substance reeked like chemicals, similar to that of bleach but not as strong. You began to cough a little, trying to wipe the shit out of your face and eyes. You had no idea what the fuck it was or what it might possibly do to you.

“Bucky” you half coughed half called his name into the comms, “Bucky something happened”

“What?” He grunted out, clearly still in the middle of fighting someone.

“I just got sprayed with some kind of white powder stuff. I don’t know what it was. It must have been part of some kind of booby-trap that they had on the lab, since I kicked their door in, it went off.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky immediately asked, seeming genuinely worried.

“Yeah I mean, nothings happened yet, I’m still fine. But-“

“I’m a little busy Y/N, if you’re fine for now, just get the data from the lab and head out fast. I don’t have time to keep talking” he quickly rattled off to you, and you heard a loud scream coming from a guy that Bucky obviously just injured.

You swallowed, still very nervous about whatever the hell just happened to you, but you didn’t want to distract Bucky any further and potentially get him hurt, “Alright. On it.”

Plugging the hard-drive into the main desktop, you waited patiently as thousands of files started to download from Haverford’s database. As you stood there and waited, an annoying, high pitched ringing began to go off in your ears. At the same time, your vision slowly started to blur slightly, as if you were wearing the wrong prescription glasses. A lump formed in your throat and your heart practically dropped into your stomach, you hated to admit it, but this was deeply scaring you. You’d never been poisoned before.

You rubbed your eyes, hoping maybe it would help, but nothing happened, the blurriness just got worse. On top of that, your head started to pound, most likely due to the loud obnoxious ringing. It was the powder, you knew it had to be. What else would just suddenly start causing all this?

“Y/N? You still good?” You heard Bucky ask through the comms, clearly still preoccupied with something else but wanting to check on you.

You debated telling him about your symptoms. You were teammates, he should know. But on the other hand, It was just a few mostly mild symptoms, and the files were almost finished downloading anyway. You’d grab the hard-drive, run out of the compound and meet him in just a few minutes. You could make it until then. Plus, you didn’t wish to further annoy or distract him from fighting.

“Yeah. Still good!” You tried to sound as enthusiastic and convincing as possible. It must have worked, because he didn’t question you further.

Standing over the counter, still waiting for the files to be done, you leaned over the table a bit and made the idiotic decision to close your eyes for just a second, trying to relieve the headache.

A moment later, you felt a sharp, intense fiery pain in your abdomen as someone reached from behind you choking your neck and thrusting a knife into your stomach. You were paralyzed for just a second with fear, not even able to cry out. The ringing in your ears was so bad, you must not have heard anyone come in.

Trying to ignore the pain, you instinctively kicked your right leg back hard, hitting the man in the groin and causing him to fall to the ground. However, on his way down, he didn’t miss the chance to slash you in the calve with the knife he had been holding. The stab was so quick you could only gasp in pain. A gasp Bucky must not have heard as he was fighting his own battles.

Turning around, you fumbled for your firearm for a moment before finally getting it out and being able to pull the trigger, sending a bullet right through his chest. Stumbling backwards a bit, you started to feel lightheaded and you were reminded of the red hot pain in your stomach. You placed a hand over the side the feeling was coming from, and immediately felt a sticky hot liquid coat your fingers.

You didn’t have time however to investigate the stab wound, because as you glanced up, you could see through your blurry vision that 3 more men were walking in through the kicked down door.

Lazily raising your gun again, gripping the table to keep from toppling over, you aimed as best you could, with ringing ears, blurred vision and now two stab wounds. Thankfully, your training in the red room had taught you how to aim with even a blindfold on, and with a few quick shots, the men were taken down, now lying limply on the ground in front of you.

Bucky heard the gunshots through the comm, but since you never called his name or made a noise that would indicate you needed help, he assumed you had it under control.

You let the gun fall from your hand, now that you were alone and for now, out of danger, you were finally able to feel the extent of your injuries as the adrenaline wore off. Ever so slowly, you peered down at your stomach and saw that the hand you’d been holding there was almost entirely now coated in blood. Without meaning to, you fell to your knees, which then painfully reminded you of the other deep wound in your calve. However, you were so tired, and the loss of blood was making it hard to do anything other than focus on breathing.

You knew you needed to alert Bucky. You couldn’t just lie here and wait, you didn’t have that kind of time.

“Bu-Buck” you whimpered, trying to be loud enough that the comm would pick it up. But even just trying to talk was proving to be exhausting. You knew you were losing what was probably a lot of blood. Wet hot tears started to roll down your face, you were dangerously close to just giving in to the blood loss induced exhaustion and closing your eyes.

——————

Bucky, meanwhile, had finished taking down the men on the other half of the facility and was waiting for you outside at the spot you’d both agreed you would meet. He spoke over the comms, “I took down Haverford and his men. I’m out here now. Hurry up.” Short and to the point. How he always was with you.

Immediately, more tears welled in your eyes at hearing his voice. You were desperate, in pain, and exhausted. Despite having a deep distaste for Bucky, you knew you needed him. You needed him to come and find you. You didn’t have enough strength to speak, but luckily the sound of his voice finally brought your own voice back and you mustered up a deep, pathetic and painful whine from the back of your throat…and it was enough to be caught over your ear piece.

He stood there for a few minutes, getting antsy. Especially since he didn’t hear fighting noises over comms, he assumed you were just taking your sweet time making it back to him.

After a bit of waiting he sighed, grumbling “C’mon Y/N, what the fuck could you possibly-“

His complaining ceased as soon as he heard your one singular cry through the comm. Bucky’s eyes went wide, heart dropping into his stomach. He’d never heard a sound like that come out of you before.

“Y/N?” He called your name in an almost scared tone, “Are you okay?”

No response.

Bucky swore under his breath, “I’m coming, just hang on” he made that promise to you like it was an oath, and raced back inside the building.

Sprinting to the side of the compound that you were tasked with handling, Bucky searched frantically through the hallways, popping his head into every room trying to find you….until he did.

You laid there, blood seeping across your shirt and a pool of it surrounding your one injured leg. The men that you had disarmed and killed were sprawled out around you.

After his initial shock wore off, Bucky ran to you, kicking one of the dead arms dealers out of the way to get to you. He dropped to his knees, eyes scanning your wounds.

“Oh, Y/N” He whispered with guilt and sorrow dripping from his tone. A million emotions flashed across his face. Including anger at the men who had attacked you, but mostly at himself for allowing this to happen.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and the tears finally flowed freely now. Aside from the pain, you were relieved. Despite you’re not getting along, in this moment you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to hold you, and tell you everything was going to be just fine.

“Okay” he whispered in a stunned tone, trying to calm both you and himself down. His hands hovered over your body as he took in your wounds and decided what he needed to do.

“Okay, alright.” That time, it came out more sure, “It’s alright, doll. Just keep breathing for me.” He tried to comfort you as he whipped out his phone and let Tony and the team know they needed medical there immediately.

Bucky then swallowed, giving you a remorseful look for what he was about to do.

“Okay sweetheart,” he began tenderly, as he took off the black jacket he had on, and then promptly ripped the sleeve of it off with his metal arm.

“I’m gonna have to tie this around your leg to stop the bleeding. It might hurt a bit, but I gotta do it” He gently explained what he needed to do, waiting to see a sign in your eyes that at least you understood. You gave him a very weak nod, and that was all he needed to then wrap the sleeve tightly around your upper calf.

He was right, it did hurt. But it wasn’t anything you hadn’t expected or weren’t prepared for. However, you believe Bucky only told you about having to wrap your leg, in order to half distract you from what he did next.

A blinding, nauseating pain quickly overcame you as he took the rest of the jacket he had, and with his metal arm and half his body weight, pressed it over your abdominal wound.

You immediately cried out and instinctively reached for Bucky’s arm, trying to push him away.

“Shhh, I know, I know baby” Bucky, who almost sounded pain-stricken himself with guilt, began to hush you, “I know it hurts, but I have to, I have to” He grabbed your hand that had tried to push him away, and let you squeeze the life out of his own as he continued applying pressure. His thumb softly grazed your knuckles, trying to soothe you.

While continuing to comfort you, Bucky began to look around as if he expected someone else to also come to your aid. It was then that he realized he’d need to get you out of the building in order to get you onto the quinjet. There was no way the medical team would be able to find their way around in here to get to you in time. And he could see that you’d already lost a lot of blood, and even with the tourniquet and pressure he applied, you were still losing some.

He took a breath, staring into your eyes with a serious yet remorseful look on his face, “Ok doll, I’m gonna have to pick you up and carry you out, but we can’t let up pressure on your wound” he explained, “So, I’m gonna need your help.”

Bucky then took the hand of yours that he was holding and gently guided it over to your abdomen. Lifting the jacket, he placed your hand over your own wound, you whimpered a little at the contact. Bucky swallowed, “I know doll, but I need you to put pressure on it like I was, okay? Can you do that for me?” He looked at you pleadingly, praying that you understood what he was saying.

Having to bite your own lip to keep from crying out again, you started to press down on your stomach with the little strength you still had. Bucky could tell you were trying by your obvious change in facial expression, “That’s it. Just like that, that’s my girl” he praised, quickly swiping one of your tears away. It wasn’t a lot of pressure, but it would do.

Ever so gently, trying to avoid hurting your injured leg, Bucky gracefully slipped his arms underneath you and scooped you up, holding you close to his chest. You moaned a little at the shift in movement, “Shhh, I got you doll. I got you” he whispered into your hair as you shoved your face in the crook of his neck.

He quickly made his way back out of the compound with you in his arms, thanking god when he saw the medevac quinjet was already out there waiting for you guys. Bucky tenderly laid you down on the stretcher, taking hold of your hand again as soon as he was able.

“She was poisoned with something and then stabbed in her lower left calve and left quadrant of her abdomen” He immediately started rambling off what had happened to the medical team and Dr. Cho.

“Poisoned with what?” Someone asked, he didn’t see who it was cause he wasn’t taking his eyes off of you.

“I- I don’t know.” Bucky admitted, “I think she said it was white and powdery, I can’t remember.” Internally, he was kicking himself so hard for not having immediately ran to you when you told him about the poison. He shouldn’t have just written you off and told you to deal with it. He shouldn’t have done a lot of things.

Bucky sat on the little bench in the quinjet right next you, still holding your hand, while the team got to work on your injuries. Technically, he should have been sitting at the front of the jet, out of their way, but no one was going to tell an upset Bucky Barnes what to do.

As they began working your leg, removing the tourniquet and getting a shot of lidocaine ready to numb the area, you saw them preparing the syringe out of the corner of your eye. You begin to hyperventilate, letting out a small whimper of fear. You hated all things medical, which stemmed from a deep rooted fear that dated back to your red room days. After years of being practically experimented on and shot up with god knows what, you didn’t particularly love the sight of needles. Even if you knew you were in a safe environment.

Bucky, who was still diligently sitting right beside you, immediately recognized your anxious reaction. He too knew that fear all too well. While he didn’t like to admit it, his time as the winter solider and being left at the hands of hydra often caused him to have visceral reactions to medical paraphernalia.

“Hey, hey” he softly called to you as he gently held your chin and brought your face to meet his, “It’s alright doll, you don’t have to look down there. Just look at me. Right at me.” He held your eyes, squeezing your hand a little tighter to let you know he was there. “That’s it. Just keep looking at me, Y/N. I’m right here” And that’s how you eventually went unconscious, staring into Bucky’s eyes as he quietly shushed you and ran his hand through your hair.

——————

The harsh lights of the medical wing practically blinded you as you tried to let your eyes slowly adjust to your surroundings.

“Hey hon” you heard a soft voice coming from your right side, whom you instantly recognized as Natasha.

“Well there she is” another voice, coming from your left who you thought was Steve, spoke up, sounding relieved at the fact you were awake. Your suspicions were proven correct when Steve leaned over slightly into your line of view.

“Welcome back, Y/N” he smiled, clearly exhausted but delighted by your opened eyes.

Your voice came out raspy and weak as you spoke for the first time, “H-how long have I been out?”

Natasha grabbed a cup from off your bedside table and offered you some water as Steve answered you,

“About three days. They had to get the bleeding under control and repair a portion of your stomach that was perforated. They also gave you some antibiotics to combat whatever the hell it was you were poisoned with,” he explained, “they seem to be working though. Doc says as soon as you’re strong enough, you can finish recuperating in your own room” He ended his spiel with a smile, but there was still one question he hadn’t answered that you were desperate for.

“W-Where’s Bucky?” You wondered why he wasn’t here, as you didn’t see him next to Steve or Nat.

“He’s right here, Y/N” Steve motioned to the back of the room where you couldn’t see, but Bucky was standing in the corner, eyes red and sunken in like he’d been crying. He immediately picked his head up when he heard you mention him.

“He hasn’t left this room in three days” Steve whispered to you in a hushed tone, hoping Bucky couldn’t hear him.

Nat cleared her throat, “We’re just gonna go get some coffee” she looked at Steve and jerked her head towards the door, beckoning him to follow her. They both left, leaving you and Bucky to yourselves.

Slowly, Buck made his way over to your bed, taking the seat that Steve was just in.

He was almost fearful of what to say, surprised that you had even asked for him in the first place. He blamed himself entirely for what happened, and was positive that when you woke up, you’d want nothing to do with him. And he wouldn’t blame you.

“Hey doll” he croaked out, voice sounding strained, “How’re you feeling?”

You swallowed, “My stomach hurts, and I have a headache” you admitted, still in a bit of pain from your wound healing.

Bucky nodded, “Do you want me to get the doctor? They might be able to give you more pain meds.” He asked, wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. You didn’t know, but for the past three days Bucky had remained diligently at your bedside, alerting medical staff of any slight change in vital signs or if he thought you were cold and needed more blankets. He’d only left a few brief times when Steve had to force him to go eat or use the bathroom.

You shook your head, “no, no I’m okay. Promise” You offered him a slight smile.

Bucky stared down at his hands for a moment before he spoke up again, “Y/N, I am so so so sorry. This never would’ve happened if I had just listened to you and not had us split up.” He spoke with such guilt and shame you almost felt bad for him, “I was so focused on my own agenda and being a dick to you, that I completely ignored when you needed help. I can’t even-“

“Buck,” you interrupted him, reaching over and grabbing his hand with the little strength you had, “this isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of the men who stabbed me. That’s it. No one else’s” As much as you knew he fucked up with the way he treated you, you certainly didn’t think he should have to take responsibility for you getting hurt.

“But if I had come as soon as you said you were poisoned, if I had just listened to you instead of choosing to be an asshole, you probably wouldn’t be in this hospital bed” he insisted, eyes getting watery.

“Well, you were an asshole, I’ll give you that.” You smirked at him, trying to get him to relax, “but you also saved my life.” Bucky looked up at you, “You tied the tourniquet which kept me from losing more blood, and then made sure I didn’t have a panic attack on the quinjet. You might have fucked up a little Bucky, but you certainly made up for it” you gave his hand a little squeeze.

For the first time since you went under surgery, Bucky smiled, “All the same, I’m never separating from you during missions ever again.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “that sounds a little suffocating, don’t you think?”

He shook his head, “Nope. Not to me. Nothings ever happening to you while you’re under my watch again”

“Well if that’s the case,” you scooted over a little in the bed, “will you keep me warm before I freeze to death in here?” You were genuinely very cold and were hoping for someone to bring you another blanket, but you supposed having Bucky there would do.

He chuckled softly, “you got it.” Lowering the hospital bed rail, Bucky climbed in and laid down next you, pulling you up close to him with his arm around your shoulders.

He placed a brief kiss along your hairline, “get some rest, doll. I’ll be right here.”

————-

Taglist: @patzammit @dpaccione @fdl305 @gh0stgurl

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes enemies to lovers #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes x red room reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader

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meo-eiru · 6 months ago

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*cracks knuckles* here I am again. this time with Micah as my victim

so at first,

you definitely should add some more story to him. so far, if I'm being honest, he feels a bit too plain to me. but oh boy, what a potential I see here!

alright lets begin

omg look at him! such a hypocrite! how smart it is, to put all blame on MC while being just as (actually even more) sinful. and he sure hides well; it's your fault, isn't it? oh you and your sinful mind.

buut despite him not really being my cup of tea, I still do like a good old concept of ugly insides, hidden behind a beautiful shell (if that's the vibe you were going for).

Micah seems so pure, so holy, almost like an angel (you played smart by adding a lot of white in his design) – but behind that pristine facade? he's ugly. and that shell eventually starts to crack, because no matter how pure he may seem, Micah is just as human as we are, and definitely not a good one. and what are we, if not a bunch of cruel, egotistical animals? and deep inside he's exactly that, sickeningly human. with that in mind the very first comic you did abt him is actually pretty hilarious to me. your desires? what about his desires, which are strong enough to ruin your whole life?

I kinda feel like he's also a little pathetic in his own way; if he can't make you fall for him, he will break you. isn't it like a very cowardly move? he wants you badly enough to use whatever method it may require to have you, but will never admit it.

but let's talk about that strange desire to destroy MC's purity. why? to make you just as dirty as he is? cute, but doesn't seem like a full explanation to me. he's a priest, right? and even despite those dark insides of his, I feel like Micah still kept at least some of the priest mindset. I mean, they're raised and taught with a very strict discipline. so I feel like deep down, he feels bad (not ashamed, but in a "how dare they" way) for his attraction to you, and punishes you for that attraction. it's not your fault, of course, but who cares? you managed to destroy his perfect, clean facade, which he was methodically building for his whole life with simply your existence. isn't that unfair? so now you must fall into the depths of hell with him.

I like how we can't justify him. Micah is perfectly aware of what he is doing. and of twisted nature of his feelings too, I think, yet still chooses to indulge in his desires, even if it hurts you, the person he was supposed to love and cherish. he makes me feel an absolute, poetic rage, and I love a character I can hate. (don't get me wrong, it meant to be a praise)

and I absolutely adore his design. also if I was on point with the idea you meant for him, that is wonderful too. if a character makes me feel something, I like that character. but girl, you really should add more details about him. because everything I've written here is, basically, just my own brainstorming and bare theories. Micah needs to have more meat on him for a full character analysis >_>

but anyway, I actually have a question.

what if MC wasn't in any way pure? what if they're a complete opposite of that word? count it on my love for hunchback of notre dame

unlike the nun MC, I suggest a MC who fully embraces their sins. like an evil succubus, they enjoy the joys of being tainted. they know what influence they have on their dear Father Micah, and isn't ashamed of that. I feel like that would make a pretty interesting story

(cough cough draw him blushing and moaning and my life is yours darling)

Another absolutely incredible ask I'll have a field day answering.

I do agree with him being a bit under developed at the moment. Micah was a bit unfortunate as in he was never meant to be an actual character. He was just a momentary creation who existed for me to study color theory. A beautiful man of flowers who didn't have an identity.

Then he joined the cast when I was busy with working on commissions and the 5k celebration comic so I didn't have the time to draw his introduction comic with the things I had planned for him, though I've been trying my best to explore him a bit more thru asks like this one. The fact that I don't want to spoil the stuff I'll draw in his comic is also holding me back a little.

I think Micah is evil, but not completely bad. A man who was born twisted, who was raised into goodness, and even with all the love he received never truly got rid of his inner darkness, but just once, just for one moment, I think he had good in his heart. And that is when he first saw you.

With all his twistedness, all his evilness, all his darkness, I think that love he felt for you was truly pure. Because in his eyes you appeared truly beautiful, like a pure lily.

But Micah isn't a pure man, neither does he want to be. So he prefers to pull you down to his level, so that you two can be sinful together. A truly impure way of feeling that pure and innocent love.

I have gotten asks about him with a more rowdy darling, one who isn't a nun or one who is more sinful. I've been really brainstorming about it but I don't think it would work. Not because I personally can't force the story into being like that but because I think it was just not meant to be like that.

You see I do come up with the characters, but I don't control their actions. If the character is unwilling I can't shape the story to my will. Because that story is their life and they control it. The best I can do is to try to fill the gaps I can.

I might prefer submissive yanderes, I might want Micah to have a more sinful darling instead but it wouldn't be Micah's story anymore. That's one of the reasons why he's so different from the rest of the boys. I'm not super into very dominant guys, I could probably count the ones I have with one hand, it wasn't my intention for Micah to be the way he is, but I don't think he could've been any other way.

Micah was just meant to be manipulative, a gaslighter, a dirty man who'll pull anything to push you below him.

I guess me looking at my stories from an actual novel or manga perspective also contributes to this. Father Micah exists to shine with a darling who he can soil.

Now the darling can maybe go against him in the future, she might rebel or give in to his sinful ways, but that's a different story.

#asks #micah #yandere priest #yandere priest x reader #fanart #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #male yandere #yandere

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stormz369 · 4 months ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 20

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: non-consensual drugging (still not reader), still dealing with themes of medical trauma, boundary crossing, non-con theming (no SA, no hard R, just ... theming), brief mention of masturbation, angst (no comfort yet) wc: 3.4k

Chapter Selection

Eventually we parked, and Spoiler helped me out of Hood's grip. The man growled at her pulling me away, flinging himself out of the Batmobile to follow. He landed hard on his knees and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close again.

He roared; “MINE!” And soon his helmet was pressed into my hip, his fingers digging in to my thighs. He trembled against me, breathing hard. Nightwing parked his bike, setting my helmet on his handlebars before turning toward us. Red Hood growled at him as he approached, and I blushed a bit, frowning. What on earth had I done to make this guy so territorial over me? Or was it all the pheromones?

Spoiler sighed, pointing to some seating at a long table. “Well, if you can get him to chill out a bit, you can have a seat over there. Just don't touch anything.”

I nodded, resting a hand on Hood's shoulder and pushing back a little. “Mr. Hood, you're squeezing too tight…”

He whined, releasing his grip a bit. “Ahhh … s- sorry … sorry, sorry, sorry….”

“I- it’s ok. … Come on, let's go sit, yeah? You can't possibly be comfortable down there?”

He let me coax him to stand, but as soon as I took a seat he flung himself onto the floor in front of me again, nuzzling into my knee now. I shrugged, patting the top of his helmet; at least he wasn't pressed so close to my crotch anymore…

Batman took a seat at a giant computer, pulling up reports and speaking with someone called Oracle. I didn't pay attention; I didn't want to know anything I didn't have to know here. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, but there were no responses from anyone yet. No Jason, no Dick, not even Steph…

“Alright, B, where is he?” A familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up.

Red Robin had a small metal case in his hand. He looked over toward us, a determined look on his face. The fingers of his gloved hand slid across his face as we made eye contact and he realized he didn't have a domino mask on.

“.... Tim?!?!” My voice sounded shrill to my own ears. Batman's typing stopped and he slowly turned to stare at us.

“Shit!” He spun on his heel, clearing his throat. In a deep voice, he called out; “um, no…?”

“.... You came in here without a mask on?” Batman grumbled quietly.

“No one told me she was here!? Why did no one tell me she was here??? We never wear masks in the Cave!” Tim rambled animatedly. He turned on Nightwing, shouting; “you should have told me!”

Nightwing frowned; “I told you I had to get her to wrangle him into the Batmobile, I didn’t think I needed to spell it out for you that that meant she was coming here!”

My eyes snapped onto him, really taking him in for the first time. I sighed softly, “... Dick?… the easiest way to get me to open my door would have been to answer my goddamn text!”

Dick shifted awkwardly. “Um … oh fuck it,” He took his own mask off; “… I don't have my phone on me. Do you see pockets in this thing??”

“I'm not looking for pockets!” I blushed bright red, looking away entirely.

“... Well, since you're already figuring it out …” Spoiler slipped her mask off, smiling brightly at me. “Nicely done out there! Pound it!”

She held a fist out to me. I blinked a bit and giggled erratically, shakily fist bumping her. “Thank you?...”

“Father! Duke stole one of my cookies while we were fighting Freeze! I had 30 cookies here, now I only have 29!” Damian shouted from the other side of the room.

“... No.” I whispered, slowly turning to look. “No, no, no…”

Robin was storming down the stairs toward us, clutching my tupperware to his chest; the tupperware I had filled with Damian's ma'amoul cookies. He had an irritated little sneer on his face, a very Damian expression. At the bottom of the stairs he looked over, finally seeing me, and froze.

Tears filled my eyes as I choked out a laugh; “no… I'm not seeing that. … That's a hallucination or something, … c- cause I know … I know none of you are stupid enough to let Damian put himself in danger like that!!!”

He looked between me and Batman for a moment before running back up the stairs. With a flutter of his cape, he was gone, and I was left staring at the spot he’d once occupied. Red Hood shifted at my feet, trying to get closer to me again. I slowly looked up at Batman, typing away at his computer, and down at the man nuzzling into my lap. Only two left … and something told me they wouldn't have brought me out to get Bruce into the car.

Trembling, I gently rubbed Hood's shoulder. I could barely hear my own voice over the sound of my blood pulsing in my head; “.... Jason,” he perked up, sighing happily, “... You can take your helmet off now, sweetie.”

His arms shot up to comply. He fumbled for the latch, and after a moment he managed to remove it, throwing it across the room. I flinched at the sound echoing throughout the cave, and slowly looked down at him. Jason's pupils were dilated so wide that there was barely any color visible at all. A thin layer of sweat clung to his flushed skin, and his hair was a mess. He beamed up at me, clinging to my legs. My hands slowly made their way into his hair, fluffing it up the way he liked it, and a deep grumbling moan rippled out of his throat. He leaned into my hands, tilting his head to press kisses to the fleshy part of my palm, and squeezed my knees tightly.

“... What exactly is happening here?” I whispered.

“... We think Mr. Freeze’s experiment was meant to make the victim more compliant. When Ivy’s pheromones are in your system, you’ll do anything to … scratch the itch. So if he used them as a base for some kind of obedience serum …” Dick shuddered; “Small mercies though; it’s not nearly as effective as he meant it to be. It’s not terribly hard to resist, unless you … already want to obey the person.” I clenched my jaw.

Steph nodded; “He didn’t fully understand what he was messing with. No one does when it comes to Ivy’s pheromones, except for Ivy. And now we think the pheromones are fighting back against whatever he did, trying to return to their natural state, so …”

“So there’s a chemical imbalance war-zone going on in Jason’s body right now?” I sighed softly, stroking his cheek. Jason looked up at me with a type of unwavering adoration that made me a bit sick. It was like he wasn’t home; like something was puppeteering his body. All of his usual walls and boundaries had been turned to rubble to make space for this thing in his body to do what it pleased with him… “And you used me to control him against his will…”

“... It was necessary. He needs to be cured before the experiment gets any more unstable in his blood and does who knows what to him...” Dick frowned.

Tim nodded. “I need to get a blood sample…”

Jason either didn’t hear him, or was so far gone that he didn’t care. But I wasn’t about to let them surprise him. I made a promise, after all. I gently stroked Jason’s cheek, looking into his eyes; “... Jason?”

He moaned happily, pressing in closer. “My love~”

I could feel everyone around us cringing. “Honey, Tim needs a blood sample, is that ok?”

Jason’s eyes shifted in and out of focus as he whined, squirming. “.... Don’t like needles…”

I nodded slowly; “I know. I’m so sorry, sweetie. But it’s important. We’ve got to make you all better…”

“Better?” He blinked a bit. “... Am I … not good …” He whimpered, suddenly gripping me very tightly.

“H- have I done something wrong? I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’ll be good! Please, le- let me be good for you! I can! I can be so good! Y- You can have the blood! I’ll be good, please!” He gasped, tripping over himself trying to get closer and closer. His hands gripped everywhere, mindlessly pulling me out of my chair and into his lap, desperate to be pressed together.

“Ah! Jay!” I pressed on his shoulders, blushing bright red. “Jason, honey, it’s ok. You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Please, let me be good for you! I wanna be good! I’ll make you so happy, I promise! I’ll do anything, I promise, I promise, I PROMISE!” He screamed, tears cascading down his cheeks, his fingers digging firmly into my ass.

“Ow! Jason, stop!” He froze, looking up at me desperately. I slowly slid his hands off my ass, letting him hold my waist instead, blushing bright red. “... Jay, … we need this blood sample. … Would you be more comfortable if I did it?”

He nodded quickly, eagerly agreeing; “yes! Yes, anything. Anything you want, you can do anything you want! I’ll be good for you~”

I sighed, clenching my jaw. I felt disgusting; how was Jason going to feel about this when it was all over? Was I wildly overstepping here? I didn’t have time to dwell on it; Tim stepped forward, pressing the syringe into my hand.

“Have him roll his sleeve up.”

Jason did whatever I asked, always accompanied by eager cries of; “yes, anything! Anything you want! Anything! I want to be good!” My stomach churned unpleasantly with every word.

As soon as the sample was done, Jason was gripping my thighs, pulling me close. “I did good? I wanna be good for you~”

I pulled him into a tight hug, pressing his face into my shoulder so he couldn’t see the tears filling my eyes. “Y- yes, baby. You did good. Thank you…”

He sighed happily, the desperation easing out of his grip, nuzzling into my neck. My arm went limp, I could barely feel the cool glass vial in my hand. Tim grimaced and took the sample from me, hurriedly tidying away the equipment. Batman continued to work at his giant computer, seemingly ignoring everything happening behind him. Dick and Steph offered me awkward smiles.

“You did good too,” Steph offered weakly.

“Don’t say that. Please, just … don’t.” I sighed. I hadn’t done good here. I had used whatever Mr. Freeze had put in my boyfriend’s body to manipulate him into letting me do something he would never have been comfortable with otherwise. It didn’t matter that it was necessary, or that he seemed fine with it right now, it didn’t even matter if it saved his life. I knew I had seriously crossed his boundaries. I knew he would have a hard time trusting me again when they got him cured, and I would deserve it. Hell, if he broke up with me after this I would deserve it…

I sniffled softly, trying to keep it together. Whatever else was going on, I needed to keep it together for Jason’s sake. He could be angry with me later, and that would be fine, I would deal with that then, but for now, he was happiest and calmest in my arms. Every time I shifted he whined, desperately pulling me closer again.

“... You're not happy… what can I do?” He whined, stroking my thighs.

“Nothing right now, baby. You're perfect just as you are.” I stroked his hair, trying not to cry.

He purred softly, pressing kisses to my throat and shoulder. “Wanna make you feel good… my pretty girl~”

I blushed bright red, grateful when Dick and Steph walked away. “... N- not right now, sweetie. Let’s get you well first…”

He whined, licking my collarbone; “Mhhh. …. Please … want you …. Wanna make you feel good~ I’ll be good for you, please~”

I shivered, gently pushing him back. “No, Jason. We aren’t doing that right now.”

He whined more, looking up at me; “whyyyy?”

“... Because you don’t want that right now, baby. I know you think you do, but that’s just the pheromones.”

He nuzzled against me, sniffling. “... You don’t want me?”

I chewed on my lower lip, glancing at Batman. He seemed determined to pretend nothing was happening over here, so I leaned in, whispering; “of course I do, my love. But not like this.”

He tilted his head toward mine, trying to get a kiss, but I pulled back, running my fingers through his hair instead. He turned to kiss my palm, whining; “... don’t you love me?”

“I love you very much.” My voice cracked sharply.

“Promise?”

“I promise, I love you with all my heart.”

He pouted a bit, kissing and nuzzling my hand. “... It hurts …”

“What hurts, baby? Did you get injured in the fight?” I cupped his cheek, gently moving his head a bit to look for blood. He clung to my wrist, spreading his knees a little and pressing his hips forward. “... Ah … I’m sorry sweetie …”

He whined softly, kissing my knuckles. “Please … help …”

I groaned softly, chewing on my lower lip. I turned toward Batman, frowning. “Um … should he ….?”

Batman looked over his shoulder at us. “It won’t fix anything, but it would alleviate the discomfort for a time.”

I nodded slowly, stroking his hair. “Ok, why don’t you go do that then honey?”

He frowned, confused, and tugged my hand; “... with you?”

“No, you go ahead, I’ll be right here.”

He whined sharply, shaking his head. “Want you!”

I sighed softly, cupping his cheeks gently. “My love, we are not doing that right now. I’m sorry, I know it’s uncomfortable, but I will not do that to you in this state. Do you want to go take care of it by yourself?” He shook his head, whimpering softly; “then I need you to be very brave for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?”

He slowly nodded, clinging to my wrists. “.... ok…"

I kissed his forehead, stroking his cheeks. “Thank you sweetie~ You’re doing so well; Oracle and Tim are almost done making your cure, just hold on a little longer…”

He sniffled softly, letting me sit in my chair again and resting his cheek on my knee. “... You really still love me?”

“I really still love you.”

“... Even though I lied to you? … I lied for so long …”

I chuckled softly. “I don’t feel lied to. We’ll talk about it more later, after I’ve had some time to process. Ok?”

He nodded, clinging to my leg. “... Are you gonna leave me?”

“No, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“... You promise?”

“I promise.”

Once Jason was sedated, and the cure Oracle made -Babs, I had to remind myself- was starting to work its way through his system, Bruce led me to his office so we could talk. There he told me a very long story; Dick, Babs, Jason, Tim, Steph, Damian, Cass, Duke. One by one they took on hero personas, some under Batman's tutelage, some on their own. They had all been so young when they started, seeking justice, or vengeance, or security. Bruce smiled a little when he told me how Jason had always insisted that being Robin made him magic. That smile disappeared quickly, and I learned how Tim implanted himself as the third Robin when that magic was snuffed out by the Joker's hands. They came together for different reasons, but there was one thing consistently linking their stories; tragedy, which led each of them to the BatFamily.

“... Obviously none of us wanted you to learn these things this way. … Jason meant to tell you himself, he just-”

“Couldn't find the words.” I finished numbly. “... I understand that.”

Bruce nodded, watching me across his desk. “... Are you alright?”

“... I … I knew that there was bad shit in Jason's past. I knew it would be hard to hear. … But … He’s so loyal to you, even when he’s frustrated by you, I … I really thought you had saved him from the worst of it … but you didn't. … You supplied it.”

Bruce stilled, taking a slow breath. “... I did what I could for him-”

“You taught those children that they could be heroes. And then you allowed them to dress up like fucking traffic lights, and pointed them at psychopaths and murderers. …” I slowly looked up at his face, my vision blurring with tears; “they were children, Bruce. … Your children. … You had one job when you took them in; to protect them. … Joker may have pulled the trigger on Jason's life, but you painted the fucking target on his back. … He was a child, a child you took in off the streets. You were supposed to give him comfort and safety, not hand him on a silver FUCKING platter to the FUCKING JOKER!!!”

I shrieked; rage and sorrow bubbled in my chest like a poison, and I threw myself out of the chair. I couldn't sit still. I had to move, had to scream, had to do something! I found myself pacing the room, unable to stop the tears that ran down my face; “do parents not even FUCKING try anymore?! Why are everyone's parents so fucking terrible???!? Why can't anyone do this one SIMPLE FUCKING THING?!?! Just protect your kids!!!! Let them BE kids!!! It's not that FUCKING HARD!!!!!!”

I tripped over the edge of a rug and landed hard on my knees and face, screaming at everything and nothing. Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me against a broad chest, and I vaguely heard Dick murmuring, trying to soothe me. “... Y- you had… o- one … fucking … job …”

Dick rocked me gently as I sobbed. We sat like that for a long time before Bruce finally responded in a quiet, broken voice; “... I know.”

Dick stroked my back gently; “... You've had a long night. I know, I know this is a lot. It feels like too much right now, but it won't feel like that forever. … Why don't I take you to a guest room so you can get some sleep? You'll be ok in the morning, and so will Jay.” He smiled weakly, like he was trying to convince himself more than me.

“... No … nothing will ever be ok again…” I whispered.

“... Come on, let's get some rest. I promise, things will look better in the morning.” He helped me up, leading me toward the door.

I paused in the doorway. Damian was in the hallway staring up at me, changed into casual clothes, that same guarded expression in his eyes that always meant he was bracing for something. I could feel my heart breaking all over again; he was so little, and it was so unfair. I turned back to look at the man hunched over his desk, narrowing my eyes a bit; “... Bruce?”

He slowly raised his face out of his hands, looking up at me. His eyes shone with unshed tears. Good.

“... Have you ever considered the idea that, if Gotham's safety can only be bought with the blood of children, … Gotham might not be worth saving?”

I didn't wait for an answer; nothing he could say would make me feel any different. He had offered up half a dozen children to live and die for the supposed safety of our city, and it meant nothing. They died, and came back, only to have to keep fighting the same fights, night by night.

Images of the scars that littered Jason's body flooded my mind. How many scars had branded the young Robin's flesh? How many were earned as the Red Hood? Did it even matter? They were both Jason; Jason who threw himself into harm's way without a second thought, taking those scars, because it was all he knew. It was what he thought he was for. Jason, who deserved so much better, but never got it. Jason, who's father knew who murdered him, but did nothing about it. Not for him, not for the next kid, not for the city. The Joker murdered Robin, and the Batman let him live.

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #no y/n #chubby reader #x reader #Can I Get Your Number?

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jesuistrestriste · 5 months ago

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sage i DESPERATELY need Artemis Donaldson angst.

Like you only call him that when your mad or upset with him. Just the thought makes him wanna sob profusely. along with even the hint of a raised voice? oh yeah he’s on the floor crying

art wasn’t sure how the fight even started.

it was a cold morning and you two had decided to stay in for the day and sit down and chat.

and, more specifically, it had turned into a chat about his tennis career and how the trajectory of it had been affecting your guys’ relationship.

it wasn’t meant to be a serious conversation, and it even started out light and with laughter..!

but then you made a comment about how it seemed like his recent losing streak was making him more closed-off, and art… well.. he got defensive.

he didn’t mean to, but he’s been more sensitive about his losses lately. he scoffed and bit back at you, “… i mean… i don’t know… i don’t exactly feel like you’ve been super supportive.”

and you can’t help but stare at him from the other side of the kitchen table, your face now scrunched up subtly into an expression that can only be perceived as bewilderment and confusion. and maybe a bit of resentment.

“uh.. what? you don’t think i’ve been supportive?”

art looks down at his hands resting over the tabletop, his brows raising slightly as his lips part while he finds his words. god, his walls are building back up in record time. he loves you more than life itself, but right now he feels like he’s being backed into a corner.

he feels like he’s being chastised by the one person he craves reassurance from.

“not really. i— okay, like, i know you’re helping me find new trainers and getting me on that creatine bullshit, but.. i need you to tell me i’ll get better, and not just tell me how ‘sad’ it is that i lost…” he scoffs.

you shake your head and huff, your brow furrowed as you feel your heartbeat pick up in pace. he’s never been like this before with you.

“i…” you rub your temple, “im not going to coddle you. that’s not me, it never was. i love you, but im also trying to be a little tough on you here—”

your words reach his ears, but he’s already in his head. his cheeks are flushing red with growing frustration and need, and he shakes his head. he cuts you off.

“nope, no no, no—“ he frowns, looking to your eyes, “i, god, i just need you to be a little sympathetic..! it’s like, i beat myself up enough already WITHOUT you getting on my back—!”

“Art,” you try to calm him down and bring him back, feeling attacked by his words and expectations, but he’s spiraling fast.

“—and it’s so frustrating to get off the courts and have that sinking feeling in my gut because i KNOW that you’re gonna get this disappointed look on your face like you think i’m a lost cause..!”

the tips of his ears are pink and he’s not even looking at you anymore. you scoff, shaking your head as you study his fidgeting frame while his hands raise to gesture to his invisible complaints.

“—i just need you to be a little compassionate with me from time to time, is that fucking wrong?”

“Art—“ you say, your tone firmer and louder, but he’s still rambling on.

“like, fuck! i can’t take it sometimes..! i really can’t, you just— i’m—“ he leans over the table, his elbows propping up his palms so that he can push his forehead into them, “i’m so tired, and i feel like nothing is ever gonna be enough to satisfy you—!”

“ARTEMIS..!”

your stern shout of his full name snaps him so fast out of his stupor that he nearly gets dizzy. it rings through his ears and clings to his throat, sliding down and burning in his chest. you never use his name like that. not unless he’s really, truly messed up..

he lifts his head in an instant, and the look on your face is what does it. the pain, the hurt, the confusion, the guilt, the anger. it’s written all over your features and it’s overwriting all of his perfect memories of your happy, beautiful image. he did this. he made you feel like you weren’t doing enough.. and all because he’s struggling with his own emotions so badly that he can’t bottle them up anymore.

he swallows the lump in his throat, desperately trying not to fall apart, but it’s far too late for that now.

he feels the sting in his eyes and the heat creeping up his neck, and then a choked-off sob escapes his lips before he can stop the tears from spilling. they roll down his cheeks and then he’s leaning back in his chair and covering his face with his hands.

and now your own breathing has stopped. you stand up from your chair and walk over to his side, knowing that he needs you more now than ever. even if he just criticized your character for a good long while. he needs you.

you place a hand on his upper back as it shakes, and his shoulders hitch as he starts to sob harshly. sniffling and hiccuping as he leans in and pulls his touch from his face to wrap his arms around your waist. he pushes his nose into your stomach; aching cries being muffled by your shirt.

“i’m, i’m sorry, im so sorry, im sorry, im sorry” he whimpers, his digits fisting the fabric of your top like he’s scared you’ll pull away soon.

your other hand moves up to his short blonde hair, stroking it as you frown and look down to him clinging to you. “shhh…” you whisper

he just shakes his head against your frame and sobs harder, “i didn’t— i didn’t mean it, i—im sorry, i didn’t really—i didn’t mean any of that, im just so—“

“tell me…” you say gently, tenderly, but it only makes him feel worse. he thinks he doesn’t deserve your kindness after all he just said.

“i’m so… s-sad..” he sobs softly and painfully, like he’s been holding it in for years. like he’s a young kid back at the mark rebellato tennis academy and he just lost an important match for the first time. the disappointment on patrick’s face. the guilt making him cower slightly while the other doubles team shrieks with victory. all of it. everything he’s ever done to make you or someone else feel let down. it’s all coming out now. and he can’t stop it.

his words cause your heart to shatter, and you slowly stroke the back of his head before you lean down to kiss the top of it, “oh, baby,” you whisper, concern and sympathy lacing your syllables. art sniffles.

“i’m sorry.”

you shake your head and whisper down to him, “i get it.. i.. i’m so sorry that i didn’t know you were dealing with all of this…”

“… well, i didn’t say anything.”

“i should have pressed harder when i realized you seemed more quiet around the apartment.”

“it’s not your fault.”

“it’s not yours either, art..”

he squeezes his eyes shut tight, two more fat tears slipping down. he nods, even if he doesn’t believe that he agrees.

two more kisses grace the top of his head, and then he’s pulling back and lifting his face to look up to yours. his eyes are lidded and red, his nose tinted the same hue, and he sniffles once more. cheeks streaked with salty regret. his hands slide up your lower back, his chin on your abdomen, “… thank you…

… i love you.”

#angst #🌸 - ask prompts #💌 - mutuals #venus i will always always always write for ur artemis donaldson headcanon #<3 #it’s so precious to me #i feel like this wasn’t super cohesive but #he’s so sad and and :(( it’s fun to write him being consoled #also i wrote so much more that i thought i did…..#art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader

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