#I understand why people don’t want shoes in their house but I think they’re kinda mean about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

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Spoiled Rotten /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Request: What if Overhaul fucks spoiled rich reader because her dad owes the yakuza money and in exchange Kai takes the daughter as a form of payment using her as his personal stress doll whenever and wherever he wants making her into his perfect little doll

A/N: While I was writing this my roommate asked if I was okay bc cause I kept stopping to fan myself and blush lmaooooo god I’m such a brat. I did change the concept up a bit, hope that’s fine!

This is dedicated not only to the OG requester but also to everyone who read the excerpt I posted a while back and told me they couldn’t wait to see the finished product!! Love you guys ❤️

Tags/warnings: threats, dubcon/coercion, dom/sub, brat taming, degradation, exhibitionism, restraints, mentions of forced prostitution, verbal & physical harassment, kidnapping, kinda breath play?, long

The first thing you notice when you come to are voices. Multiple people talking to each other, speech overlapping in patterns you can’t make out. They’re quiet—not whispering for your sake, but quiet because you’re still half knocked-out and you can barely hear.

The second thing you notice is the pounding in your head and the lingering smell of something sweet spread over your nose and mouth.

The third thing you notice is the fact that when you try to blink your eyes open, your lashes brush against something soft and dark. You’re blindfolded…and gagged, and your hands feel like they’re cuffed behind your back. From what you can sense around you, it seems like you’re hunched in a kneeling position with your cheek flattened against the floor and your bare feet tucked under your backside.

At least you’re still in your nightgown. You can feel the frilly silk of it, a useless barrier between your skin and the cool air, and it reminds you of how you got here in the first place.

A loud noise in the night. Your father’s voice pleading. A heavy thump. The door to your bedroom banging open and a strange man holding you down to your bed…lifting a sweet-smelling rag to your mouth…telling you to “take a deeeeep breath, princess.”

“Hey, I think she’s waking up.”

An invisible hand fists itself in your hair and you whine in pain as your upper body is lifted off the floor. Once you’re properly upright, you hear squeaking, shoes against concrete, and the heat and breath and presence of someone behind you. Something rustles at the back of your head—you’re too scared to move so you stay still—and then the blindfold is being lifted off your face.

Once it’s gone, you have to blink for a moment even despite the low light of the dingy room where you’ve…apparently…been kidnapped. By the freaking yakuza. And for some reason, they’re all wearing bird-beak masks.

You close your eyes, almost wishing they hadn’t taken the blindfold off. You’d prefer to live in blissful ignorance of how decidedly unclean the floor is. How dare they let your face touch it? What happened to honor among thieves?

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Against your will, your eyes flick up to the speaker. He’s the only one sitting, and somehow that gives him a position of power among the others. The leader?

Unsettling golden eyes rest on yours, and you realize he’s waiting for your answer, so you slowly move your head from side to side.

“Didn’t know about daddy’s bad habits, huh?” This time the person speaking is behind you, the one who untied your blindfold, a thin man with lank, greasy blond hair. He’s the one who drugged me, you remember in a surge of panic, and you try to stand up away from him only for him to step on the chain that connects your handcuffs, jerking you back and pinning you—painfully—to the floor.

“Careful, Setsuno. I told you not to leave marks. Let her talk.”

“Got it, boss.” The blond—Setsuno—fumbles at the back of your head and then he’s pulling the gag out of your mouth.

You open and close your mouth a few times to stretch out the stiff muscles. “Oh. My. God. Was that polyester you just took out of my mouth? Do you have any idea how bad synthetics are for sensitive skin? I’m totally going to break out.”

A hush falls over the little room. You could hear a pin drop.

“…Are you complaining about the quality of the fabric we gagged you with?” the leader asks after a second.

“You may be yakuza, but you don’t have to act like savages,” you reply primly, aligning your knees together and sending a proud look off to the side.

“Ohh…little princess deserves better, does she?” Setsuno coos. He edges closer to rub his cheek against yours and laughs when you cringe away from him. “Boss, you shoulda seen her bedroom. All pink and frilly, looked like royalty lived there. Bet they treat you like a real princess at home, huh? No wonder your daddy’s in debt.”

“Daddy isn’t—“

“Your father…took out loans from my gang. My men came last night to collect,” the leader says, drumming his fingers over the armrest of his chair impatiently.

He’s wearing plastic gloves. Why is he wearing plastic gloves? Immediately your mind is spinning, imagining all the different gruesome possibilities of what they’re going to do to you. “That’s ridiculous. My daddy doesn’t need to borrow money—“

“Clearly he does, because it looks like he pissed it all away on his daughter.” The leader’s eyes are cold enough to make you shiver—although maybe that’s just the icy temperature of the floor soaking through your nightgown.

“He had a couple payments overdue, so we stopped by to ask nicely for him to pay up,” Setsuno says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Didn’t find too many valuables in your house, but then we got our hands on a real treasure.”

“Don’t touch me—“

“You don’t seem to understand the position you’re in,” the leader says. “When I made my contract with your father, he understood that obligations like these are inherited. Since he can’t pay his debt, you’re going to be working it off in his place.”

Working it off? You swallow. Somehow you don’t think he’s talking about your little part-time job as a receptionist at your daddy’s company. “You can’t make me do that.”

“I’m not sure you’re getting the gist, princess,” Setsuno hums. “What we’re gonna do is we’re gonna put you in a room, and then men are gonna give us money, and then we’ll let those men fuck you. All that money’s gonna go toward paying what your daddy borrowed. Sound good?”

For the first time since you can remember, you’re shocked speechless. They’re going to…what? But you’re a quick thinker, and instead of letting these filthy, awful gangters boss you around, you raise your chin haughtily to look directly into the leader’s eyes. “I don’t think so. If Daddy’s the one who got himself in debt, you can make him whore himself out to pay it back. You can’t hold me responsible for something he’s done.”

Another brief silence, and then you hear a whistle echo out from the corner of the room (and you try not to look toward it, reminding yourself that this can only get worse if they know how scared you are). “She’s got a mouth on her, Overhaul,” someone says.

Overhaul. So the leader’s name is Overhaul. How ridiculous; it sounds like a villain’s name.

“Aww, princess,” Setsuno says, and once again his voice is too close for your comfort. “Little spoiled princess doesn’t know how to shut her mouth and suck it up when things don’t go her way? Well…you’ll learn.”

You don’t want to know what he’s talking about, although if you thought about it for more than a second it’d be obvious. You suck in a harsh breath and the cool, damp air stings against your dry throat. “You can’t just make me—“

“Ohh, I think we can. See, if your daddy’s been spending all of the Shie Hassaikai’s money on his precious daughter, don’t you think you owe a little too? Like, this dress—“ you jump as Setsuno’s hand tugs on the thin, floaty silk— “was bought with Overhaul’s money, so it belongs to him, right?”

You keep quiet, not wanting to prompt him to go further, but when his hands stroke up over your waist to grope your breasts in full view of everyone else in the room, you don’t really have to guess.

“And, y’know, your daddy’s been keeping you nice and healthy with Overhaul’s cash, making sure you grow up into such a pretty girl…” Setsuno’s voice is a purr in your ear as his hands squeeze your tits almost lovingly, then pinch your nipples through the fabric. “So hey—if you think about it, this tight little body…belongs to Overhaul too. Isn’t that right, sir?”

You squirm in place as best you can but with the metal cuffs digging into your wrists, there’s nothing you can do to get away from his touch. You’re desperate enough to shoot a terrified glance up at the leader—surely there are rules about treating an innocent girl like this, even for the yakuza—but he looks as unmoved as before. “Get her out of my sight. We’ll give her a rest for the next few days, and then…”

“No!” you yelp, too panicked to keep up the pretense of confidence. “I won’t, I can’t do that, please don’t make me—“

“Shhh. You’ll get used to it, princess. And if you don’t…” Setsuno’s hand combs though your hair and then trails down your neck, tracing the path of your spine between your shoulder blades. “…well, you won’t really have much of a choice, will you?”

And then he’s tugging on your cuffed hands, pulling you to a standing position, but you wriggle away from him and do everything you can to stay planted on the ground so they can’t take you away from here, away from the only man who is capable of stopping this. Overhaul. “Please! I’m— I can work it off another way! I’ll be useful— I’ll—“

Overhaul leans forward a fraction in his chair, and you wonder if you’ve caught his interest. “What, exactly? How do you think you can be useful to me?”

You bite your lip and wrack your brains, not knowing whether the question is rhetorical. What skills do you have that would be valuable to them? Suddenly all the knowledge you’ve gained in your short life seems so meaningless. You’re a decent receptionist (well, decent is a stretch), but if Overhaul wanted someone to answer calls for him you’re pretty sure he would’ve asked.

Why did you spend your life learning such impractical skills? The four-year weekend course you took on horseback riding jumps to mind and you want to hit your head against the wall. Why didn’t you ask your father to sponsor a class in something that would actually matter in the long run? And what would even be useful to these people? Accounting? Bookkeeping? Extortion?

There’s nothing valuable you can offer. You’ve wasted your life, and now you’re going to pay for it. Seriously, the only thing you’re actually good at is keeping your boyfriends (or, rather, the men you cycle through once a month) happy until the novelty wears off and you get bored and move on to the next lovesick target—

—wait. Keeping your boyfriends happy. That’s a skill, isn’t it?

Once, a little bit after you turned eighteen, you’d had a rather illicit conversation with one of your more sexually adventurous friends about being a sugar baby. Your friend had just secured a very generous benefactor, and you’d been so intrigued by all the designer purses and vacations to Cabo that you’d almost considered trying it for yourself. She’d even helped you set up a profile on Seeking Arrangements that listed your physical features and interests, but you’d blanched when it came time to post photos.

“But why do men even like this?” you'd asked your friend after your picture-less profile received its dozenth unsolicited offer. “Rich, successful guys shouldn’t have so much trouble finding girlfriends that they have to resort to paying for sex.”

“It’s a power trip,” she’d replied. “Most men never get the chance to have a woman who’s willing to do and be whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You’re his ideal girlfriend, his therapist, his wife, and his stress relief all in one.”

At the time, you’d decided against it, deleting your profile and telling your friend you’d rather just keep taking advantage of your real father doting on you than have to fake orgasms for rich men in their 50’s. But back then, you’d had a choice; now that you’ve been kidnapped by a gang who wants you to get fucked by a bevy of strangers to pay off a debt you’ve never even heard of, you no longer have the privilege of a way out. Or, at least, the options are a lot less appealing than before.

You tilt your head back to Overhaul, eyeing him for the first time with real scrutiny instead of prideful disgust. Judging from what you can see of his face under the ornate bird mask (and again, what is with the freaking bird masks?), he’s fairly young, mid-twenties at the oldest. Short, sort of wavy dark hair (you’ve always had a thing for dark hair), a trim suit and tie, and those eyes. Like he can read your mind just looking at you.

He’s…handsome enough, you have to admit to yourself. But it’s not just that. There’s something pristine about him, something untouchable that commands discipline. He’s clean. You and him are probably the only clean things in this hovel of a room.

“Well? I’m waiting,” Overhaul says.

And now that you’ve got the idea in your head, it’s almost too embarrassing to meet his gaze. But you can do this; you have to do this. At least it’ll be your choice, and—you’re hoping—it’ll be better than the alternative.

“I could be yours,” you tell him, taking pride in the fact that your voice isn’t breaking.

His eyes narrow and you think god, his eyelashes are long. It’s not fair. Men never appreciate having long eyelashes. What is he thinking? Is he going to kill you for even suggesting it? But it’s too late now…you have to dig yourself a little deeper if you don’t want to go through with their original plan for debt fulfillment.

You force your muscles to relax, knowing this’ll be impossible to pull off if you’re tense and biting down on the words like they’re going to choke you. If you’re going to make him believe it, you have to make yourself believe it too. “You… This job must be hard. Even for a—a powerful man like you, it has to be stressful, right? Always looking out for the interests of the gang instead of your own…needs.”

Overhaul doesn’t move, but you’re so focused on him it would be impossible for you to miss the way a single muscle in his neck flexes. You’ve hit a nerve.

You take a cautious step toward him, trying to channel the sexually-liberated vixen you consider yourself when you’re not in your nightgown surrounded by men who could murder you with their bare hands and not miss a minute of sleep. “You’re always giving, aren’t you? Looking toward the future of the gang? Doesn’t it get frustrating when—when a pretty thing is in front of you and you don’t even get…a little taste of her?”

Oh god, you can feel the humiliated heat rushing to your cheeks. How can you be saying this? You’ve played the role of seductress plenty of times before, but never in such a risky situation. You just have to keep moving toward him and hope it feels authentic enough to convince him.

“You’ve worked hard. And…like he said, my—my body belongs to you.” Now you’re close enough to Overhaul and he hasn’t stopped you, so you lower yourself onto the floor, knees bumping softly into the cold surface. Kneeling between his legs.

Overhaul stares down at you, gaze as sharp and cold as before—and you’re sick with anxiety, so scared you can feel your hairs raising up on end—but if he wanted you to stop, he would have said something, right? So you shuffle a little closer and nuzzle your cheek over the inside of his clothed thigh like a kitten, then raise your head up to him to give him your best bedroom look, the one that says, I want you. I need you. No one but you. The look no man has ever been able to resist.

“…You deserve something to yourself, sir,” you murmur.

There’s a collective intake of breath as every person in the room simultaneously realizes what you’re offering. Overhaul’s expression doesn’t change, but once again, a tendon jumps out white under the skin of his throat and there’s a creak of latex on leather as his grip on the arm of the chair tightens.

“Damn,” Setsuno says under his breath from behind you. Someone whistles. You’re pretty sure you hear the word ‘slut’ being tossed around, but there’s reverence behind it.

“And what makes you think you’re so valuable?” Overhaul asks.

You close your eyes to ground yourself for a second. He’s interested, you know that much. You’ve never really had to convince someone to want you, but there’s a first time for everything. Besides, you only have to look at him for a second to know he does want you, which isn’t a surprise. Who wouldn’t?

“I’ll do anything you want, be anything you want,” you tell him, echoing your conversation with your friend back then. “Take out your anger on me if that’s what you’re into. When you’re tired of me, you can consider my debt paid and let me go.”

“And?” he prompts.

‘And’? And what? You’re offering yourself to him, your body and your mind—what more can he possibly ask from you? You cast your thoughts around, wondering what else you have to give him. “And…and I’ll do it willingly. You, um—you look like a man who appreciates obedience.”

And that’s it. Your last shred of pride is gone. Not only are you offering yourself up to a man to use as his personal stress doll, you’re saying you’ll be compliant every step of the way. Knowing yourself, you’re pretty sure that’s impossible, but you just need to make him believe it long enough for you to find a way out of here. You can pretend to enjoy getting fucked by a gangster a few times. You’ll live.

But you’re naive. And with the stream of thoughts pushing through your head, you never really consider one thing, one essential thing: how you look pleading up at him in that pale pink nightdress—soft, pure, immaculate against the filth of the underworld, the only clean body that Overhaul’s seen in a long time.

And you’re right. He is a man who appreciates obedience.

“Willingly…so you’d be willing to prove it.”

Your head jerks up and down in response. Yes! He’s taking the bait, now I just have to get him alone and—

“Then demonstrate.”

When a moment passes and you don’t move, Overhaul tips his head to the side, gaze still locked on you, and gestures vaguely at his lap. You blink and then shy back, shrinking under the hungry gazes of the onlookers. “You can’t mean—in front of them?”

“And here I thought you were going to be obedient.” There’s no mercy, no amusement in his voice. No hint of humanity.

So he’s serious. He wants you to give him a blowjob in front of—how many? one, two three, four—four other men!? Your first instinct is to jump back away from him and your next is to slap him for even suggesting it; you can actually hear the jingle of your cuffs as you attempt to raise your hand. You’ve gotten a little kinky before—blindfolds, vibrators, maybe a hand tied to the bedpost with a Hermès scarf once or twice, but this is a whole different level. And the way they’re all looking at you…like they’re itching to see you brought down. How absolutely disgusting.

But Overhaul’s waiting for your answer, and you know full well that you’re not going to deny him.

“O-Of course.” You lean forward over the seat of the chair so your face is just inches from his lap. “Um. My hands...?”

They’re still cuffed behind you, but it seems like they’re going to stay that way when Overhaul gives a curt shake of his head. “Use your mouth.”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. How are you supposed to—? Without your hands? It doesn’t even seem like he’s going to undo his pants for you. It’s like he wants to humiliate you…oh, wait. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s clear that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

You give him another doe-eyed glance, bidding him to at least undo his belt, but he remains unmoved. Bastard.

After aiming another glare at him (because as obedient as you’re attempting to be, you’ve never been good at concealing your emotions) you lean deeper in and take the stiff leather of his belt between your teeth, gently easing it out of the buckle and trying to ignore the mixture of earthy and metallic tastes it leaves on your tongue. It takes a few tries, but eventually you’ve got the tail of the belt out of the buckle and you pull your head back to guide the metal down until the belt is hanging open from its loops.

A rush of accomplishment surges through you when you get it open, and then you want to slap yourself. Accomplishment? From doing this with your mouth like an animal—like a dog? You can hear laughter and mocking encouragement from the men watching, but you steel yourself and dip back in to get Overhaul’s pants undone. The button is tricky, especially with your face nudging into the hard muscle of his abdomen through his shirt, but somehow you manage to tug the fabric slit over the button and then—delicately, delicately—clamp the zipper between your teeth and peel it downward.

“Oh, she’s good,” someone says from the background. Setsuno. You look up warily, but Overhaul’s eyes haven’t moved from you.

Now that you’ve got his pants open, you’re face to face (literally) with what you’re going to have to deal with. The outline of his cock is bulging the fabric of his boxers outward, and he’s not even half erect. You snatch a look back up at him—and damn it, you have to stop doing that, because every time you look into those golden eyes and that stupid bird mask you feel like a lamb looking at a bird of prey right before it snatches you from your safe little lamb-house in the meadow and—fuck, you just have to get on with it.

So you dip down and mouth over him through the fabric, spreading the flat of your tongue over the length of his thick cock. Your mouth feels like you’ve been eating cotton (probably because they drugged you earlier) but you force yourself to salivate, letting drool spill over your tongue and dampen his boxers. When you duck and spread your lips down on the place you can feel the tip stretching out, you know the friction must feel good, because despite the lack of even so much of a deep breath from the man above you, his cock is getting harder.

You nudge your mouth over the tent between Overhaul’s legs again, letting the heat of your breath wash over him—but when he doesn’t do anything, you pull back and blink up at his face. Does he expect you to get him off through his underwear? You could, but most of your moves depend on skin-to-skin contact. There’s no way you can get his cock out with your mouth like you undid his pants, so…what? “Are—are you going to take it out?”

Overhaul brings a gloved hand to his face to rub absently at one of the straps on his mask. “…Beg,” he tells you.

Your mouth drops open and you reel back from his lap like he asked you to lick the dirt off the floor. What!? He can’t seriously expect you to—to beg him to put his dick in your mouth when you’re clearly disgusted at the whole situation. When he doesn’t give any indication of retracting the statement, you can’t help the mocking sneer that forms over your face. “Please, sir,” you spit, and a deaf man could hear the spite in your voice.

Now, that gets a reaction. Overhaul’s eyes flash and you take a certain degree of pride back at the anger you’ve clearly inspired in him. But it’s extinguished as soon as you see it, and then he’s reaching down to cup your chin, tilting your head back and rubbing his thumb over your lower lip.

“I think you can do better than that, princess,” he says, and you can hear your own mocking tone reflected back in his voice. “Unless you’d like me to give my men a turn?”

This, more than anything, scares you. He must be able to feel the way your spine goes stiff, adrenaline rushing, your fight-or-flight instinct kicking in at the prospect of what he’s threatening.

“Each of them, one by one. Between the four of them, I think they could cure that smart mouth…although they might just break you in the process,” he continues, and then his thumb is pressing into your lip, into your mouth, and you loosen your jaw to let him in. You can taste the rubbery latex of his gloves and the other men mutter agreement, encouraging their leader to turn you over to them, and you want to cry.

But you hold the tears back. “Please, sir! Please, please may I s-suck your cock sir? Please!” Your voice is more terrified than obedient, but that’s probably what he’s into anyway. When he doesn’t say anything, you babble on, unwilling to let yourself get gangbanged by a group of men who could probably wreck your pussy in a single round. “Please, please, Mr.—Mr. Overhaul, um, boss? M-Master?”

“Sir will do just fine,” Overhaul says, apparently satisfied, and he pulls his hand away from your face to free his cock from his boxers.

You let out a hot sigh of relief and angle yourself back toward his lap so you can zero in on his cock (and, hopefully, do a little to block out how sickeningly degrading all of this is: how easy it is for him to threaten you; how he has all the power and you have none; how the men around you are goading you, taunting you and calling you things that should get their mouths washed out with soap). You can focus on this, and this, at least, you’re good at. You’ve always been good with your mouth.

It’s a nice dick, too, you have to admit to yourself as you stare at it. Perfect length, girth, and a thick, cut head that you know just by looking that you’re going to have to stretch your jaw to get around. All his hair is neatly trimmed and groomed, and he even smells good, clean and fresh like soap. You’ve never been in front of a dick that didn’t smell like day-old ball sweat, so this is a first. It’s got a nice upward curve, too, and there’s a bead of pearly precum oozing out of the tip. The kind of cock that’s made for penetrative orgasms—

No. Fuck. You cannot be thinking this. You cannot allow yourself to lust after a gang leader who thinks of you as little more than an interactive sex doll. A tingle of blood rushes to your cheeks as you feel wetness pool in your panties and you adjust your stance, shuffling your thighs apart under the pretense of getting closer and hoping Overhaul doesn’t notice.

If he notices, he does the merciful thing and keeps quiet (which makes you think he has no idea you’re feeling the way you’re feeling, because he’s probably never chosen to do the merciful thing in his life). He does, however, shift one of his knees farther apart to accommodate you as you crawl close enough to him to get your head all the way between his legs.

So now you’re staring up at that unfairly pretty cock and wondering how the fuck this is supposed to start, but—best just get on with it. Pretend it’s not him, pretend it’s…no, wait, pretend it is him, it is Overhaul, the same bastard who’s looking down at you like you’re trash, except pretend you’re in control. Because no matter how many orders he gives, once you’ve got his cock in his mouth he’ll have to be the weak one. Right?

Lightly, slowly, you trace the tip of your tongue in a wet path up the underside of his cock, sliding up from the hilt to caress every bulging vein with all the delicacy and accuracy of a surgeon. When you reach the tip, you flatten your tongue to curve it around that bulbous head and then slip it off, the suction providing a wet smacking sound as your skin leaves his.

The breath of his barely-heavier exhale ruffles your hair and you relish the knowledge that he’s getting impatient. Yes. The bastard can wait.

You kiss the tip of his cock, barely moving your lips around the slit, only enough to let your tongue flick out against the precum and gather the bitter liquid up in your mouth. And then—right when he’s getting annoyed, when you can tell by the tension in his body that he’s five seconds away from shoving your head down to fuck your face—you duck closer, relax your throat, and swallow.

Like a fucking python. Or so you’ve been told.

The exhale that escapes him isn’t light this time. You can almost hear the barest hint of a groan under his breath, but you’re more focused on holding down your gag reflex as you let that heavy cock hit the back of your throat. Once he’s all the way down (or at least as far as you can get him), you rock yourself back an inch and then take him deeper, forcing yourself to hold still so he can feel the walls of your throat convulse around him, sucking him in, dry-gagging on the mass that’s filling you up.

“Fuuuuck,” you hear someone whine, and it’s not even Overhaul. It’s one of the men watching, and you feel a perverse mixture of hatred and arrogance rise up in you.

Overhaul’s cock is too big for you to properly moan around it, but you give it a go anyway so he can feel the vibration of your voice through his skin. You’re rewarded with a tangible twitch with it sitting on your tongue, and—oh—your mouth is watering out of where you’re clenching down on him at the back of your throat.

Spittle slips out over your lower lip and onto your chin, but you ignore it in favor of jerking your head up and down in fractional strokes, trying your absolute best to get yourself down to his base but knowing that he probably doesn’t give a shit anyway, not with how good your throat feels around what you’re capable of stuffing in.

What were you saying about ‘valuable’, sir? you think, and then you pull your head off his cock, so slow it’s almost cruel, sucking your cheeks in and hollowing out so those wet walls are rubbing up on every millimeter of his skin. When you reach the tip, you savor it, letting your tongue do the dirty work and looking up at him through your lash extensions before you release him with a nasty wet pop.

“Holy fuck, can I have her next?” one of the other men says, but you and Overhaul are too focused on each other to even look and see who’s talking.

His gaze is trained firmly down at you, and—no way, damn it—he looks bored, like he could be waiting in line at the DMV instead of getting sucked off by you, a girl who’s been complimented by every man she’s ever been with (including her first) on her bj technique. You know he’s feeling it—he can fake calm, but he can’t fake the way his cock’s throbbing under your tongue as you lick up the shaft. Still, now that you’ve got it in your head that Overhaul’s not going to make a sound, all you can think about is forcing him to moan. Let him look weak in front of all his little lackeys.

With renewed vigor, you lap up the length of Overhaul’s cock in sloppy dabs, leaving strings of saliva dripping off your mouth and his cock only to slurp them up, audibly, wiggling your tongue over the tip when you reach it. And that, that gets him, because you feel more than see the buck of his hips into your face as he hisses out a curse.

And—oh dear, maybe you shouldn’t have done that—because the next thing you feel is Overhaul looming forward over you, hand gripping the back of your head, and is he going to force you down? You hate that—so you take the initiative, tilting forward to take him into your mouth again, head bobbing up and down so quickly that your hair is falling all over your face, but it’s okay, because he’s got you, he’s got you, got his hands combed through your hair holding it out of your face, pulling so lightly it barely even hurts, but it does hurt, and he’s guiding you up and down on his cock and it’s hitting the back of your throat every time, and—and it hurts.

You really shouldn’t have done that.

“Take it deeper,” Overhaul instructs, almost encouraging, although you’re not given the option to pull off because he’s holding you down, pushing you firmly toward the base of his cock. You sputter around it, gagging, and you’re almost fucking choking, and he won’t let you up.

God, you’re not—not breathing, you can feel your throat choking down on him—“breathe through your nose,” he says, and this man, this villain has no idea what he’s fucking talking about, because you’re trying, eyes stinging and then you can feel tears down your cheeks. You try to squirm back on your knees, but somehow the combined force of every muscle in your body is outmatched by his single hand on the back of your head—and—and—you squeeze your eyes shut, relax, open your throat as much as you can and—

Overhaul forces your mouth down to the hilt.

Fuck, is he going to keep you there? You can’t, you can’t—if you could move, you’d be shaking your head and begging him to let you stop and as it is you’re whimpering around his cock. Your throat is making gagging noises and you’re crying, actually crying, actually fucking crying on a man’s dick. So this is what it feels like to be used?

“Good.” There’s something lower and darker in Overhaul’s voice, a husky undertone from the growl he’s trying to suppress. “Hold still…remember, you asked for this.”

You did. You asked for it. Begged for it. Pleaded.

“Want me to forgive your father’s debt…? You’re going to have to earn it.” He pulls out an inch just to ram himself back in. You make a weak attempt to move your tongue around his shaft and you can feel the shudder all the way through him, his cock twitching where it’s locked in your throat. “Mm…good girl. Just a little—little longer—“

His fingers are tightening in your hair, curling around the strands and tugging instead of just applying pressure to your head. He’s close, you think, and then you struggle back, not wanting him to cum down your throat, what if you choke on it? Like, really choke? You don’t want it, don’t want his cum in your stomach, but then he sighs and tells you again that you’re a good girl, and ohfuckohfuck you must be so scared you’re desperate for praise because you feel heat rush into your cheeks and your cunt when he says it and you try to move your tongue like you did earlier and his hips jerk forward and—he cums. In your mouth.

It’s salty, you think. The next thing you think is that you want to gag, because you’ve never had cum in your mouth before. For all your sexual experimentation, you’ve never let a man cum down your throat like this, always telling them it shoot it on your tits or whatever because you are not a person who should have semen in her mouth, much less ingest it.

But right now, with Overhaul lazily dragging your head up and down for a last couple pumps on his softening dick, your choice isn’t spit or swallow. It’s swallow or choke.

Hot. Thick. The texture is slimy, so viscous you can feel it going down your throat in strings. Part of you wants to throw up. It’s repulsive. Filthy. You hate this.

Part of you has to shift your position again so you don’t have to feel your own wetness slicking up the insides of your thighs.

How. Is. This. Possible. You may have just had to swallow your pride (and not just that), but what about your dignity? You’re a good person…okay, well, even if you’re not a ‘good person’ per se, you don’t hurt anyone with your selfishness. You don’t deserve to be kept as a pet by a sadistic bastard who gets off on watching you almost pass out on his cock, and you certainly don’t deserve the humiliation of finding that you’re turned on by it.

And yet. Here you are. Still held securely in place until Overhaul slides you off him. As soon as your mouth is free you suck in a dizzyingly deep breath, but even that is too much for your battered throat and the breath turns into a cough; you instinctively fold down away from Overhaul so the mixed saliva and cum you’re hacking out spatters in cloudy white flecks across the floor instead of on his clothing.

“Stop that,” Overhaul scolds, hauling you back up by your hair and forcing your mouth closed with a hand on your jaw. “If you make a mess, you’ll be cleaning it up.”

Considering what he just made you do to him, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s implying you’ll have to lick it off the floor. You clench your jaw, holding back the convulsions of your throat as best you can, and hope he doesn’t press the issue.

Now that you’ve got your coughing under control, you can start to sense things that you had been tuning out before: the men hooting and wolf-whistling and applauding your performance, the traitorously persistent throb of your clit pulsing under your panties, and Overhaul’s hand releasing your chin to pet down your neck. “Now. What do you say when someone gives you a meal?”

Just you wait, bastard. I’m going to tie you to your bed and set fire to it. But you’ve got the sense that that answer won’t go over well, so you take a deep breath and look up at him again, meeting those piercing gold eyes with your own. “Thank you, sir,” you say in a soft whisper because it’s all your abused throat can manage.

“That’s right.” His hands feel colder than the concrete under your legs as he spreads his hand down your neck, only to toy with one of the lacy pink straps of your nightdress. “Stand up.”

You stand shakily, too cowed to even consider stepping back from him. Without warning (much less permission), Overhaul lifts the hem of your stupidly short dress up past your thighs, exposing your panties and lower belly to view.

“Hold this in your mouth,” he says, and after only a few seconds of hesitation you open up and bite down on the fabric so you’re effectively holding up the skirt for him. Overhaul skims gloved hands down the sides of your hips and comes to a rest when he reaches your panties—and why did you have to wear these today? Shiny red satin in the front; the back is just flowers worked in crimson lace. You know exactly how good you look in these panties, and judging by the things Overhaul’s men are saying, they’re more than appreciative of the view.

But Overhaul ignores them in favor of hooking his fingers under the elastic and pulling the panties down until they’re resting stretched between your upper thighs. You don’t have to see them to know there’s a string of slick connecting the lips of your cunt to the fabric, betraying in full technicolor detail how turned on you’ve gotten just from sucking him off. He gazes down at your pussy and then up to you as if waiting for you to admit it, but you stay silent.

“Well, well. What a nicely-trained slut I’ve found myself.” He gracelessly pulls the panties the rest of the way down your legs and lets them fall to the ground. “Do you always get this wet when you let your boyfriends fuck that smart mouth?”

It takes you a second to comprehend that he’s expecting an answer. “N-No, sir,” you reply, voice muffled by the fabric you’re still holding between your teeth.

“I suppose I can’t leave you like this, not after you took me so nicely.”

Does he mean he’s going to get you off? No freaking way. You drop the hem of your dress, let it flutter down over your thighs, try to scramble back, but his hand on your waist keeps you from moving. “I— It’s okay, I don’t need—“

“No, I think you do. I think I’m going to reward my pet for a job well done.” He leans back, eyeing you without sympathy. “I’d have you touch yourself, but—“

The mere possibility that he might remove the handcuffs has you straining against them again, and the sound of metal against metal rings out from behind you.

“—but, I think it’s best to keep the cuffs on for a few days…until you’ve settled down.”

Days? He can’t leave you in chains for days, helpless and powerless, so easy to take advantage of. “You can’t,” you whimper, and even though you mean for it to be a decisive statement, with your throat ravaged and hoarse it’s downright pathetic. Overhaul doesn’t even bother reprimanding you for talking back.

“My men have been patient,” he muses, and an enthusiastic wave of agreement wells up from the others. “Any of them would be happy to do it.”

You may have been through a lot in the past hour alone, but there is no way you’re going to let those rowdy criminals have their way with you. You send a nervous glance around the room and as predicted, not a single one of them looks like they have the slightest shred of control over themselves.

None of them…except Overhaul.

Still eased back in his chair, he looks just as relaxed and unaffected as he did when he was explaining your father’s debts to you. But there’s something flickering in his eyes, something he isn’t going to say to you, isn’t going to say out loud. A challenge.

Maybe, once again, he’s waiting for you to ask for it yourself. And if it’s a choice between him and one of the grimy ruffians who’ve been looking at you like dogs look at meat, you know what you’d prefer. Well—really, you’d prefer option C: none of the above (your current state might be uncomfortable, but you’re not so wanton that you’d rather cum in front of strangers than keep your legs together). Unfortunately, you’re starting to come to terms with the fact that ‘no’ is no longer an option.

Overhaul’s stare flicks from you to an unseen figure behind you, and you can tell he’s about to summon one of them over so you force yourself to move, lurching forward and climbing into his lap to straddle one of his thighs with all the grace you’re capable of. You feel the stir in the air when he inhales sharply, surprised, and his masked face is so close to your neck that you wonder if he can smell the lotion you put on before you went to bed last night.

It’s one of your favorite scents: vanilla, lilac, orange blossoms. You bought it because it smelled pure.

“Please, sir, I don’t want them,” you breathe next to his ear, injecting every ounce of sexual frustration you’re feeling into the needy tones of your voice. “I’m yours. I belong to you, just you. No one else—please, sir…Overhaul.”

He’s quiet for a long, tense moment, and you think he’s going to hit you, or maybe even kill you for your disobedience. Push you off his lap at least. But just when you’re teetering on the edge of jumping back from him and begging for forgiveness for talking out of turn, you feel it—a low rumble of laughter from deep in his chest.

Big, cold hands wrap around the sides of your ribcage under your breasts and his fingernails dig into you through the layers of latex and fabric. He tilts forward, forcing you to arch away and all you can think about is how horribly weak you are compared to him. Are you trembling? Will he be angry if you feels how afraid you are?

“You know, I guess I’ll keep you after all,” he hums, stroking his fingers through your hair and down your neck. “How does that sound, princess? I think you’d like that very much, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” The response comes all too easily, even if the words taste bitter in your mouth. You’ve never said the word ‘sir’ so much in your life…but as he repositions you on his lap and slides a single hand up the inside of your thigh under your dress, you bite your lip and decide to hold back your protest.

If you’re going to have to learn manners, you’d better do it sooner rather than later. Something tells you Overhaul’s not going to accept any less than your best behavior if you want to pay off your debt.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagines #mha x reader #mha imagines #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut #tw dubcon

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redgillan · 4 years ago

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 11

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,696

Warnings: Unprotected Sex (non explicit)

A/N: And finally... Just a word before, and it’s important, I wanted to put the explicit between two ‘*’ but I settled for one at the end because explicit means different things to different people. So whenever it starts to get too steamy for you, skip to the *. Thank you for reading, I appreciate your support!

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

Bucky moved behind the kitchen counter when he heard the door close. You and your guests were in the hallway where you took their coats and asked them to remove their shoes. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He had to stay calm, you depended on him tonight.

“It smells nice in here. What did y-”

Bucky straightened himself up and tried to keep a casual, friendly smile on his face as he came face-to-face with Okoye. He had seen enough pictures of your siblings to recognize them.

She looked surprised to find someone else there. He raised his hand and waved, and she frowned at him in confusion. The rest of the guests stopped short when they saw him waving like a dork. You pushed through them and came to his side.

“Guys, this is my friend, Bucky,” you said. “He’s the one who invited you.”

“Thanks for the invite. I hope you like wine,” Scott said, extending his hand as he walked over to Bucky.

“I sure do.”

Then he shook Wanda and Okoye’s hands, telling them how good it was to finally meet them. Your sisters introduced him to their partners, W’Kabi and Edwin who preferred to be called ‘Viz’.

You led them to the living room while Bucky prepared the drinks. W’Kabi decided to stay behind and help Bucky carry the drinks to the living room. He praised Bucky for having such a nice home.

The conversation seemed to flow easily between your siblings, though as Bucky arrived with your drink, he couldn’t help but notice that you were not participating. You took the glass from his hand, smiled then went back to staring at the coffee table. He sat next to you and rubbed soothing strokes on your arm before he reached for his drink.

Okoye was telling everyone that she had decided to return to New York after King T’Chaka’s passing. His son carried the mantle of the Black Panther, surrounding himself with his father’s Dora Milaje, but Okoye wanted to live closer to her own family.

She was a Dora Milaje, loyal to her king, but she was also a sister, loyal to her family. She felt like there were no good choices, and it ate away at her until her king found a solution to her problem. His little sister, Shuri, was starting her own business in the United States and needed her own bodyguards. Okoye accepted and W’Kabi followed her.

Scott didn’t share much. He showed everyone pictures of his little girl, Cassie, and said he was now working at Baskin-Robbins.

Wanda was evasive about her life and whereabouts. She told everyone that she’d been backpacking across Europe and met Viz, a wealthy businessman, on a beautiful sunny day in Berlin. They’d been attached at the hip ever since.

“And of course, you’re all invited to the wedding,” Wanda said while Okoye admired the ring. “It’s going to be a small wedding. I just need my family.”

“Excuse-me,” you said, standing up abruptly. “I think something’s burning.”

Bucky watched you disappear into the kitchen. He glanced at the group again, no one was paying attention so he followed you into the kitchen.

He found you leaning back against the counter, your arms crossed over your chest, staring into nothing. He walked over to you and pulled you into a one-armed hug that you accepted with a pleased sigh.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you said, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Is it a code ‘flamingo’?”

“No,” you chuckled, pulling away. You took a deep breath and leaned back against the counter again. “It’s just...”

You huffed, unable to find the words and grabbed him by the waist, seeking his warmth again. Bucky let out a surprised laugh as you squeezed him tightly. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pressed you against his chest.

“I know it’s hard,” he said, kissing the crown of your head. “It’ll be over soon, angel.”

Bucky rocked you side to side in a slow, soothing rhythm until you were practically melting against him. He felt you take a deep breath, your nose buried in his chest. He didn’t want the moment to end, but you’d been gone for several minutes now, and the others would barge in the kitchen soon.

He pressed a long kiss to your forehead and gently pushed you away, his arm falling to your waist. You smoothed out the wrinkles you had made in his shirt without looking him in the eye.

He could tell you were thinking about something but before he could ask what was on your mind, you kissed the slight cleft in his chin and quickly moved away from him.

He smiled to himself, his heart beating a little faster.

You were transferring the dinner rolls from the pan to the basket when Scott poked his head into the kitchen. Bucky was still smiling to himself like a lovesick idiot.

“Everything okay?” Scott asked, taking a step closer to you. You turned to him and nodded. “It’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Seeing each other again after all this time.” He leaned his forearm on the counter next to you and smelled the bread. “Baby Wanda’s getting married. Did you know they flew me first class? And the hotel is incredible. I feel like a prince.”

“Viz seems very nice.”

“I can’t believe Wanda backpacked through Europe,” Scott scoffed. “She hates camping.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Bucky watched as Scott leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “Listen, I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me and for Cassie-” Bucky quietly left the two of you alone. It was a private conversation and he didn’t want to impose himself.

He finished setting the table, and soon everyone joined in. Bucky was sitting with his back to the kitchen, W’Kabi sitting next to him. You took a seat across from him, Wanda sitting next to you. Okoye sat next to Wanda, facing Scott, and Viz took a seat at the end of the table.

The food was good, and everyone complimented Bucky on his cooking skills. He said that you had helped him a lot, but you refused to take credit for chopping up a bunch of vegetables. You gushed about his cooking skills and his delicious recipes. It made them salivate just thinking about it.

“And your house is amazing,” Scott said with a dreamy look on his face. “A place like that...” he sighed, “that must have cost you an arm and a leg.” The whole room fell silent, and something that sounded like a foot hitting a shin made the table jump. “Ouch, why did yo- oh.”

Okoye was looking at him with the widest pair of eyes Bucky had ever seen. She looked furious and exasperated at the same time. The others stared at their plates as the uncomfortable silence grew.

Bucky glanced at you, not surprised to find you smirking. You knew he lived for moments like these, and you knew he already had the perfect comeback. As he watched you bit your lip, trying to contain a little giggle, he couldn’t help but love you even more.

“It was the original price but I’m a good negotiator,” Bucky said. “Only cost me an arm.”

W’Kabi was the first to laugh at his joke, then the whole table broke into fits of laughter. Scott looked equally amused and relieved.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“No problem,” Bucky cut him off.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” Okoye said with a smile and a shake of her head. She turned to Bucky as everyone calmed down. “So, Bucky, strange name, uh? What do you do for a living?”

“My name is James, Bucky’s just a nickname.” He wiped his mouth and set the napkin down. “I’m a writer.”

“A pretty good one, judging by your apartment.”

“I’m all right.” He shrugged. “Literally.” Scott snickered at the joke.

“He’s too modest,” you said. “His books are best sellers. They’re autobiographical, he’s very sincere and honest and funny. He has a way of making you laugh about things that are pretty awful.”

“Yeah, we saw that,” Wanda said with a grin. “Are you working on anything at the moment?”

Bucky shifted a little in his seat. “Yeah, it’s uh,” he cleared his throat. “It’s a very important one. I don’t really want to talk about it. Don’t wanna jinx it.”

He wasn’t going to tell your family that he was writing a book about how he fell in love with you. That’d be pretty awkward.

“I understand,” Okoye nodded, then looked at you. “You’ve been really quiet tonight.” You shrugged. “I thought you were still living with Natasha. Do you still work at the hotel? Where is it again? Chelsea? That’s one hell of a commute from Brooklyn.”

“I wasn’t exactly living with Natasha,” you said. “I was crashing on her sofa. And no, I quit six months ago. I’m a full time artist now.”

“That’s great,” Scott said, raising his glass toward you in a silent toast. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Not too bad. Bucky’s friend is a professional photographer. He helped me set up my website. The pictures he took are amazing. I sold a few pieces online but I’m struggling to find gallery representation.”

“Hey, as long as it pays the bills.”

“I don’t really have to worry about bills these days.”

“What do you mean?”

The room got quiet again, and Bucky could feel the tension in the air, buzzing like static electricity. All eyes were suddenly on you, waiting for an explanation. Bucky knew you were not going to lie to them. He locked eyes with you, and braced himself for impact.

You set your fork down and folded your hands in your lap.

“Well, Bucky and I have an arrangement.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Scott cut you off.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush and I’m not going to use pretty words to make it sounds more appealing,” you continued as if you hadn’t heard him. “He’s my sugar daddy.”

“You’re joking. Please, tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope,” you replied smugly, popping the ‘p’.

A chorus of voices rose in protest. Okoye and Scott were shouting while the others kept glancing around wondering what had just happened. Wanda was strangely quiet next to you.

“Oh, shut up!” you shouted. “You left me alone. All of you. We were all grieving our brother but it doesn’t give you the right to fuck off when things get tough. Do you know how fucking terrifying it was when mom started to lose her memories? Or when the police drove her home at three in the morning after one of her spells? No, you don’t know because you weren’t there.”

Bucky had never seen you so upset before, and he didn’t quite know what to do but he felt like you needed to get it off your chest.

“I didn’t have friends or boyfriends. I went to class, then got home, hoping mom hadn’t set the house on fire. I took the first decent job I could find because she needed a new home and professional help. Without Natasha I would have been homeless.” You turned to Bucky. “I’m so sorry, I’ve ruined dinner. You’ve worked so hard.”

“It’s okay,” he replied immediately. “I’m with you.”

“God, you’re so nice,” you sighed, then turned to your siblings. “See? That’s the kind of person he is. I was lonely and lost, and I found him and he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s kind and sweet, he’s selfless and generous, and you have no right to criticize our relationship.”

Bucky stared at you, his mouth hanging open a little. Slowly he shook himself out of his trance and reached for your hand on the table. He had no idea you thought so highly of him.

“We needed each other,” you continued. “And I don’t care what you think.”

Dinner was officially ruined but Bucky didn’t care. He smiled at you, soft and reassuring, and let go of your hand when you smiled back. He was proud of you for speaking up, for standing up for yourself.

Bucky noticed Wanda and Viz exchanging looks.

“Okay so, since we’re sharing truth bombs,” Wanda said, shifting a bit in her seat. “I wasn’t really traveling through Europe. I went to Sokovia and after that, everything’s kind of a blur. I did things I’m not proud of. I wanted to forget,” she paused and sighed, “everything. I hit rock bottom, pretty hard, and checked myself into a psychiatric hospital. That’s where I met Viz. He helped me send you those postcards. I screwed up, real bad, but I couldn’t tell you guys the truth. I’m not really proud of myself.”

“I got fired from Baskin-Robbins for yelling at a costumer.”

“Okay!” Okoye exclaimed in her big sister voice. “Enough truth bombs.” She pointed at you. “I’m sorry you had to do this alone, it wasn’t right but we’re here now and we won’t let you down. As for the sugar daddy thing... well you’re a grown woman, you can do whatever you want. Bucky seems like a nice guy.” She turned to Wanda. “We are all dealing with our pain in our own way. I’m not judging you. We’re here for you, Wanda.”

“I know,” Wanda said, sniffing.

“And Scott, stop yelling at people.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

Bucky turned to W’Kabi and Viz who looked proud of their girls, albeit a little uncomfortable with the whole situation. Someone started chuckling, he couldn’t tell who it was, but suddenly the whole table broke into a fit of laughter.

“How about some dessert,” he said. “Then you guys can fill me in on some childhood secrets.”

As he walked away from the table, he heard you warn your siblings to keep their mouths shut. They laughed in response, which made Bucky smile. Surely it’d take more than one outburst at a family dinner to fix your broken bond but it was a good start.

During dessert, he learned that everyone called you ‘Splotchy’ because you painted on the living room walls as a child. He learned that you always wanted to play board games with Okoye. Your favourite one was Mystery Date.

“She had a crush on Tyler, the beach date.”

“No, that’s not true, don’t listen to them.”

When they finally left, you spent a few extra moments hugging everyone. Promises were made, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile as he watched you wave goodbye to your siblings.

It was just the two of you again, and the mountain of dirty dishes and silverware. He told you not to worry about the dishes, but you knew if he went to bed he wouldn't be able to sleep, not when the kitchen was such a mess so you cleaned together.

He loved these moments with you. There was something very peaceful about the night; the dark skies, the soft lights, the quiet apartment, knowing people all around town where getting ready for bed. It used to make him feel tiny and isolated but now, with you, the night didn’t seem so frightening anymore.

A few weeks went by, and things were changing a bit. You spent your Saturday mornings with your sisters, bonding, and facetimed with Scott at least once a week.

Bucky also noticed a subtle change in Sam’s behaviour. He seemed happier and he wondered if his friend had already forgotten Natasha.

It was almost June, and the building’s swimming pool reopened as the weather got warmer. Despite living there for several years, he had never gone near that swimming pool until you dragged him out one scorching afternoon.

The rooftop was surprisingly calm, apart for the group of children playing in the pool. There were people sunbathing around the pool, enjoying a good book, socializing. You dropped your bag on the floor and laid out your towel on the reclining chair.

Bucky had never seen you in a bathing suit before and it caught him completely off guard, but what made him literally growl was seeing the little pendant of your necklace rest against your skin. He didn’t know why but it awoke something in him.

You both slathered on sunscreen before you went for a swim. Bucky recognized a few neighbours, and while they all knew he only had one arm, they had never seen him shirtless before. Bucky didn’t mind their inquisitiveness, as long as you were beside him.

“Do you think the kids peed in the water?” you asked as you rested against the edge of the pool.

“Probably,” Bucky cringed. “When I was a kid, my mom told me that there were chemicals that turned the water a different color when someone pees.”

“Ew,” you laughed.

After a while, he lay out in the sun, enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin. He could still hear you playing water polo with the kids when a shadow passed over him. With a frown, he pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead.

“It’s nice to see you, James,” his neighbour beamed, taking a seat on your unoccupied chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out here.”

“Hi.” He wasn’t surprised when his voice came out hoarse since he had been on the verge of falling asleep. With the grace of a walrus, he propped himself into a sitting position. “Yes, well, swimming pools are more fun when you’re not alone.”

His neighbour turned to look at you. “Congratulations, by the way. I didn’t know you were seeing someone. Must have been serious if you two moved in together. How long has it been since she moved in? Six months?”

“Seven.”

He knew he should have corrected her, you weren’t his girlfriend, but it felt good. It was just a harmless little lie.

“Does she make you happy?”

“I’m the happiest man on earth,” he replied with a bright smile, then slid his sunglasses back on his face.

His neighbour chuckled quietly. “I can see that!”

When you returned to your seat, his neighbour was gone. You hummed to yourself as you settled into your seat, big droplets of water running down your body. Bucky tilted his head down and peered at you over the top of his sunglasses.

“Where did you get that popsicle?”

“Jealous?” You licked your treat without looking at him. “The kids’ mom gave me one as a thank you for looking after her kids.”

“That looks good.”

“So good.”

“Mind sharing it with me?”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, then held out your popsicle. As Bucky leaned closer, you pulled it away and jumped to your feet. The look he gave you was one of pure betrayal.

“Oh, angel, you should have never done that.”

He grinned to himself when he saw a shiver run through you. When he stood up, you took a step back. He strutted toward you, his grin predatory. The floor was slippery so you couldn’t go very far.

“Are you ready to share now?”

“No!”

The popsicle melted down your hand, creating a mess. You turned your arm and licked the drops of popsicle juice from the inside of your wrist. It distracted you long enough for Bucky to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you against him. You squealed and grabbed him around the neck to keep from falling while also trying not to smush the popsicle against his chest.

You waved the treat in front of his face and he tried to bite off the tip of your popsicle. It made you laugh, your body sagging against him. His face was close to yours. He was so close he could smell the artificial orange scent of your popsicle.

Your laughter died down and your breath caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you. Without thinking, he went for it. He felt your fingers flex against his skin, urging him closer.

His lips were barely a breath away from yours when one of the kids repeatedly slapped your thigh, obviously oblivious to what the two grownups were about to do.

“Come back! We haven’t finished the game,” the kid whined. “Come on!”

Reluctantly, you let go of Bucky and took a step back. Your exhale came out shaky, and in your almost-kiss-induced trance you handed him the popsicle without saying anything before you followed the kid.

You turned back to look at him, one hand sprawled across your stomach, the other across your chest. He knew you were feeling it too: the butterflies, the racing heartbeat, that pleasant heat going through your body.

The difference between like and love.

A week later, he came home to an empty apartment. He climbed the stairs to your studio but you weren’t there. Instead, he found a canvas stretched out smooth and tight on the floor, and several bowls of paint arranged in a semi-circle around it.

He knew you were home, you wouldn’t leave without your phone or bag. Out of curiosity, he went up on the roof and let out a relieved breath when he found you.

You were sitting on the edge of the rooftop with your knees up to your chin and your arms wrapped loosely around your shins. You looked so beautiful in the golden hue of the setting sun.

He stood there, watching you as if he was looking at a painting in a museum. Entranced. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and a quick glance around the roof told him you were alone.

Slowly, he made his way to you and took in your appearance: a short sleeve white shirt and a pair of denim overalls. The shirt was surprisingly spotless but the overalls were covered in dried paint splatters of different colours.

“I looked everywhere for you,” he spoke softly, trying not to disturb you.

“Did you?”

You straightened up a little but kept your eyes trained on the horizon. Bucky sat close to your feet and let his hand slip under the hem of your jeans to close around your ankle. A sigh slipped past your lips, and he let his fingertips linger for a moment on your smooth skin.

He knew you had a meeting today, and judging by the resigned look on your face, it didn’t go well.

“What’s on your mind, angel?” he said, caressing the top of your foot.

“I was thinking about the night we met. God, I was so nervous,” you said, laughing softly. “I told you that agreeing to meet you was like choosing between a pack of wolves and jumping off a cliff.”

“I remember,” he chuckled.

“I never told you how glad I am that I jumped off that cliff,” you said. “I’d never jumped head first into something, not knowing what was going to happen. Now I think I’m addicted to it. Before I met you, I was living for others. Everything single decision was thoroughly analysed. There was no mystery, fun, or impulsiveness. I put my entire life on hold, and now I see that I can’t do that anymore.”

“What are you going to do?”

You paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t know if I want to turn my passion into a career. Painting is my safe-place, and right now it’s giving me so much anxiety. I haven’t had the inspiration to paint in weeks.” You looked at him and pressed your lips together tightly. “And, if I don’t want to become a full time artist, then I guess our deal is off.”

Bucky stared at you, mouth agape. He really hadn’t seen it coming.

“Please, don’t be angry,” you pleaded. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. When he didn’t answer, you leaned forward and touched his face.

“I could never be angry with you, angel,” he said, kissing the inside of your palm. “I understand, and I’ll help you however I can.”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m still thinking about it.” You looked away from him and stared at the sky. “Do you know that feeling when you stand in a high place and you think about jumping? You don’t want to jump and you don’t do it, but there’s that urge.”

“I think I do.”

“It’s called ‘call of the void’. People say that it’s an affirmation of our will to live. That knowing we’re going to die one day makes us appreciate life even more.” You looked at him. “I want to jump but I can’t. I’m scared.” You lowered your voice. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“You’re scaring me a little. You can’t talk about jumping when we’re sitting on the edge of the roof.”

You chuckled under your breath. “It’s a metaphor.”

“Let’s go home. We’ll make dinner together, put on some music and pretend we’re in a movie.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to you. “Please.”

You took his hand and let him lead you to the staircase.

Once you were inside the apartment, he removed his shoes and you removed yours. Silence settled between the two of you as you entered the kitchen. Bucky moved behind the counter while you stood close to the dining table.

When he chanced a glance at you, he saw you staring into nothing while you played with the charm on your necklace, rolling it back and forth on its chain. You often did that when you were daydreaming.

Bucky walked over to you and placed his hand on top of yours, halting your movements. You let go of the pendant and held his hand instead. He ran his thumb soothingly over your fingers.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he spoke softly.

“If I say it, it’s going to change everything.”

He pressed your joined hands against his chest, over his heart. “No, it’ll make it real.”

He let go of your hand and cupped the side of your face. You leaned closer until you were only inches apart. His thumb traced your cheekbone, then moved to trace the outline of your bottom lip.

He let you come to him, let you take that first step, and when your lips brushed against his, he closed his eyes and sighed. He kissed your parted lips; once, twice, three times, tiny little kisses against your trembling lips.

His kiss grew bolder, turning into something so intimate, so passionate and intense that tears gathered in his eyes. He pressed his mouth more firmly against yours, his large hand still cupping the side of your face. His bad shoulder jutted forward as if his missing arm wanted to touch you.

He let out a groan, frustrated that he only had one hand to finally explore your skin. Sensing his inner turmoil, you held onto his bad shoulder and pulled him against you.

His tongue swept into your mouth, moving in a slow and deliberate rhythm. A growl escaped him and he deepened the kiss, tasting, sliding, retreating and entering again. He poured everything he had into the kiss.

“Bucky,” you moaned after your broke the kiss, breathless.

Hearing his name fall from your lips, your voice hoarse with desire, sparked something inside him. He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, feeling the softness and collecting the moisture that had gathered there.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking positively entranced. “My pretty angel.”

You pulled him in for another kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck, your slightly cold hands felt amazing against his heated skin. He pressed himself against you, letting you feel the rise and fall of his chest, the desperation in the jerky thrust of his hips.

He needed more but he wasn’t going to force you into anything. He was more than happy to stand here and kiss you for hours. He cupped the back of your neck and rubbed the sensitive skin behind your ear with his thumb.

“I’m yours,” he spoke against your lips, his eyes screwed shut.

You pulled back to look him in the eye, searching his face. He opened his eyes and you saw nothing but honesty in the depth of his eyes.

You untangled yourself from him and took his hand. Slowly, you took a step back, then another, his hand still in yours. His eyebrows lifted slightly when you bit your bottom lip and gave him a coy look.

He nearly growled again, the wolf inside him eager to touch you, feel you, claim you. He stood taller, his chest puffed out and breathing fast.

You led him up the stairs to the second floor and turned on the light in the corridor. You slowly made your way down the corridor with him behind you.

But instead of turning left towards his bedroom, you turned right into your studio, and it changed everything. Your studio was your sanctuary, your safe place, and knowing that you were about to bare your soul and body to him tamed his inner wolf.

You hesitated at the threshold of the room and glanced over your shoulder to look at him. Bucky squeezed your hand to encourage you.

“I bought some body paint on my way home,” you said, letting go of his hand to step into the room. “I wanted to try something different, something more personal. I wanted to use my body to express my emotions, to create something raw and messy. My interpretation of somatic art therapy.”

You moved around the darkened room; bent down to adjust the canvas on the floor and made sure the bowls of paint were still full.

“I sat there and thought of my mom and Pietro,” you continued, barefoot on the canvas. “I only feel sadness and anger, and I don’t want to create something that makes me feel sad. And I realized the only thing that keeps me inspired is hope.”

Turning to face him, you held your hand out, palm up, and his eyes widened at your silent request. Without thinking twice, he joined you on the canvas. It was both soft and scratchy under his feet.

Bucky watched as you unbuckled the right strap of your overalls and slipped the second strap off your shoulder. You tugged your jeans down your legs and tossed them aside, leaving you in your underwear and white shirt.

Swallowing thickly, Bucky let his eyes travel up and down your body. He had seen you in your bathing suit before but this was different. Then he reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head, baring his strong chest, hard abdomen and marred skin.

The room was dark; the pastel sky, visible from your studio thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, didn’t provide much light. The light was still on in the corridor, casting a faint golden glow over the room.

You took a step forward to examine his scars more carefully and Bucky took that opportunity to kiss you again, slowly, intimately. He peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck, then went down on his knees in front of you and continued his journey down your body, pressing soft kisses to your stomach.

He accidentally knocked over two bowls of paint; the dark colours spilled out onto the canvas, chasing each other. His kisses made you light up with desire, your moans music to his ears as your hands came down on the back of his head.

When it all became too much, you gently pushed him into a lying position and helped him out of his jeans. His belt buckle made a faint clink when you pulled it open, and Bucky swore out loud when you planted a wet open-mouthed kiss right below his navel.

In the back of his mind, he knew he wasn’t going to survive the night. He let his head fall back against the canvas and closed his eyes shut. Your talented mouth sent sharp jolts of pleasure through him, making it difficult to breathe.

He could feel the paint stick to his back, creating the shape of his upper body on the canvas. It was strangely exciting.

He moaned, arching his back, and slammed his fist down on the canvas. His fist landed in one of the bowls of paint. It splashed paint everywhere. He looked down at you and saw tiny flecks of paint splayed like freckles on one side of your face.

It made you both giggle. As he pushed himself up into a sitting position, Bucky left a print of his forearm on the canvas. You climbed into his lap, straddling him, then removed your shirt and bra. You wrapped your legs around him, one hand on his upper arm, the other hugging his neck.

Bucky was sitting on the canvas with his legs outstretched and slightly bent at the knees. He held you against his chest, rocking back and forth, his arm around the small of your back. You sighed together, sharing the same breath.

“You have the prettiest nose.” You let your index finger run down the length of his nose, your finger wet with paint. “So pretty.”

Laughing softly, he brushed his nose against yours and kissed you. He changed the angle of his thrusts, catching you by surprise.

“Does that feel good, angel?” he asked, lightly biting your jaw. You answered with a short cry. “Look at me.” You slowly opened your eyes, your movements faltered a little. “You’re so beautiful like this. You drive me crazy, y’know that?”

“Bucky,” you cried out.

He felt you shiver when he moved his hand from your back to your face. He cupped the side of your face and you immediately pressed yourself closer to him, craving the warmth of his touch.

He stopped your movements and looked you in the eye. “I’d do anything for you. Anything. You’re my one and only.”

He laid you down as gently and safely as he could, and once you were lying flat on your back, he sprawled between your thighs. He supported his weight on his forearm, careful not to crush you. Your hands slid up his sides, and as your thumb traced over his ribcage, a violent shiver went through his body.

He had never seen anything more beautiful than watching you come apart; your eyebrows furrowed, your lips parted in a silent ‘o’, the way your body shook in little spams. Absolutely stunning.

Exhausted, he collapsed on top of you and hid his face in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around him and slowly caressed his back.

After he kissed his way down the side of your neck, he straightened himself up into a kneeling position and looked down at you. Your naked body was on display, covered in paint and glistening under the moonlight. He wished he could take a picture, immortalize this memory.

He helped you up, and after another passionate kiss he led you to his bathroom, the two of you leaving colourful footprints all over the clean floor.

The bathroom's bright fluorescent light was harsh and unforgiving as you looked at each other in the mirror. Yet you were both glowing, streaks and dots of paint covering your bodies. Bucky turned on the water and waited for it to get hot.

He wrapped his arm around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. “We look like we blew up a rainbow,” he said, smiling wide when it made you chuckle.

In the shower, you took turns washing each other, laughing and kissing until the water turned cold. You pushed his hair out of his eyes and smiled sweetly at him.

“We’re going to catch a cold if we stay here.”

“Mhh,” he replied, kissing your temple. “You’re right. There are clean towels on the shelf. Go, I’ll be right behind you, I still need to take care of my scar.”

“Can I help you?”

Asking for help wasn’t something he was comfortable with, especially after years of being babied by his ex-girlfriend, friends and family. After his accident, he couldn’t do anything on his own. He had to rely on others and it made him feel like a burden, like he was incapable of taking care of himself.

He knew it was all in his head but he couldn’t help it.

“It’s not exactly sexy,” he said.

“I don’t care. I want to help. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Patiently he guided you step by step through the process of cleaning his stump. You inspected his skin thoroughly, looking for irritation or any signs of infection, then washed it with a mild soap.

He had to admit that watching the woman he loved take such good care of his scar made his stomach fill with butterflies. You looked so focused, so attentive, that he could help but smile and try to kiss you.

“Bucky,” you complained, turning your head away, avoiding his kiss. “This is serious business, stop fooling around.”

He almost said it. I love you. But something was holding him back. He didn’t know what would happen next and it scared him. He didn’t want this to be a one-time thing, but he also realized that things were moving too fast.

“Okay, now you’re shivering,” he said, holding you close, trying to share his body heat with you. “Let’s get out of here.”

He wrapped you in a fluffy bathrobe and patted you dry. Then you carefully dried his scar and applied corticosteroid cream to his shoulder, massaging it gently into his skin. He slipped on his robe and you loosely tied the belt at his waist.

“We should talk about what just happened,” you said, playing with the belt. “What does it mean? What are we going to do? Can we-mph”

He cut you off with a kiss, long and hard and filled with passion. You smiled against his lips and finally pulled away.

“Is that how you’re going to shut me up from now on?” you asked with a grin.

“We’ll talk,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours. “But not tonight.”

“When then?”

“Tomorrow, I promise.”

You looked down at your hands on his belt and nodded. He tilted your head up and lowered his mouth to yours.

“Don’t avoid me tomorrow. Please.”

Your words felt like a knife in his heart, and it left him momentarily speechless. He took one of your hands and pressed it against his heart. “No matter what we decide to do, you’re my angel and I’m yours.”

You shared a long, silent hug before you both decided to call it a night. Once he saw the footprints in the corridor, Bucky felt the urge to clean them. He tried to resist but he knew if he didn't clean he wouldn't be able to sleep.

You understood –you always understood. That’s why he felt so comfortable with you.

Once it was clean, he joined you in the kitchen and made you breakfast for dinner, opening the cupboard and pulling out a couple boxes of cereal you didn’t even know he had.

He told you that he was keeping them for a special occasion. He remembered you telling him that it was your favourite meal as a kid, watching TV with your siblings every Sunday night, eating cereals.

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” you said, tears in your eyes.

The two of you sat on your bed, sharing random thoughts and spoonfuls of cereal. You giggled as milk dribbled down his chin and stained his robe. You wiped at the spot on his chin with your thumb and gave him a chaste kiss.

Your lips tasted sweet. Bucky pulled you in for another kiss, discarding the dirty dishes on your bedside table. You helped each other undress, then slid under the covers where you laid your head on Bucky’s chest.

“Bucky,” your voice cut through the quiet. “Do you mind-”

“Don’t worry, my angel, I’ll wait until you fall asleep.”

“Thank you.”

Part 12

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years ago

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Lovestruck - fic

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, kinda Dick Pairings: future!jondami, implied-kinda?timkon, also timbernard Summary: Damian starts acting weird after Tim and Bernard begin dating. Turns out even this kid can be naive, and a total idiot, when he wants to be. A/N: idk a headcanon I couldn’t stop thinking about haha. Damian is absolutely one of those genius kids who don’t know the most basic things. Also if it’s not clear, Damian is comparing Tim’s answers to what he likes in people to if they match Conner. all ages are current canon so Tim is immortal and Damian is 14 mkay bye.

When Tim started dating Bernard, he expected a lot of different things. He expected Bruce’s protectiveness, Dick’s softness, Jason’s gift of XL condoms, Cassandra’s date suggestions and even Stephanie’s own prepared shovel talks for his new paramour.

But he did not expect…well, this.

He did not expect to see Damian sitting on the front porch when Bernard brought him home from their third date. He did not expect Damian to start furiously writing in the notebook on his lap at the sight of them.

He did not expect to come down to breakfast and see the kitchen table scattered with notes and lists and images of way too pretty people, pictures of Bernard and Steph among them.

“…What are you doing?” Tim found himself asking sleepily.

“Research.” Damian replied simply, sipping thoughtfully from a mug on the island. “None of your concern.”

“Oh yeah?” Tim asked as he approached. Instantly he tapped the photos of Steph and Bernard. “So why are there pictures of my ex-girlfriend and current…boyfriend here?”

His stomach still did giddy jumps at the thought.

Damian’s lips twitched, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Then he reached out and slid the photos underneath some papers. “Just…persons of interests.”

“For?”

“None of your concern.” Damian reiterated. Quickly, he began to shuffle all of his papers and pictures together. “Jeez, what does that Dowd boy even see in you…”

And then he was gone before Tim’s pre-caffeine mind could catch up.

After that, Damian was less obvious, but Tim could still catch on. In fact, everyone was catching on. But, like the emotionally constipated Bats they were, no one said anything, or tipped their youngest off.

They all just watched, as he suddenly began to distantly follow Tim around. Around the house, around the city, both as a civilian and in uniform. It was Cassandra who declared that Damian was watching who Tim was interacting with, not necessarily him.

He never followed him on his dates, though.

Then came the questions. Every time they were together. They’d go to lunch downtown near the office, and Damian would ask:

“Do you like that girl’s hair?”

“Would you ever wear those shoes?”

“How much do you respect a person if their suit jacket doesn’t fit them properly?”

When they’d be staking out a suspect on a building overlooking a street corner, he’d say:

“That belt is too gaudy.”

“You can tell he spent way too many hours in the mirror getting ready to go to that disgusting dive.”

“I can’t believe she’s walking on this street in those heels. Would you go for comfort or fashion?”

And it continued, the following, the seemingly random questions. After a while, Tim chalked it up to…maybe Damian was just getting to know him. Just trying to actually get along for once in their lives. They were both getting older, more mature. Maybe it was just time they started acting like what they were.

Brothers.

But then he came home one afternoon to find Dick standing in the manor’s foyer, back leaning against the wall that led into the central sitting room they all used. It was almost evening, which meant Damian was most likely in there sketching, or reading with his pets.

Dick noticed him open the door, and quickly put a finger to his smiling lips. Tim nodded and silently closed the door behind him, carefully took off his shoes and jacket, then tiptoed over to Dick.

He peeked around Dick’s shoulder. Sure enough, Damian was in there, but he was standing at the fireplace, staring down into the flames.

Jason sat in the loveseat behind him.

“Jay just got in there. He hasn’t said anything yet.” Dick breathed. Tim frowned skeptically. Surely Damian knew who was in the house. Knew there was something going on if Jason had just sought him out.

“What are we interrogating him for?” Tim whispered back. “Did he lose one of Alfred’s recipe books again?”

Dick just shook his head and pointed into the room. Tim looked back in.

Jason was relaxed in the chair, but staring intensely at his youngest brother. Damian must have known that, felt his eyes, because he wasn’t looking up. Kept his gaze glued to the fire at his feet.

Suddenly, Jason huffed, crossing his arms. “Spill.”

“Spill what.” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Spill why you’re stalking Tim.” Jason said bluntly. “Why you’re asking him all those dumbass questions.” A pause. “…Why you’re keeping tabs on his boyfriend.”

Tim inhaled sharply, glaring up at Dick. Dick waved both his arms quickly, implying that Jason’s words weren’t true, that it was just to catch Damian off guard.

“I’m not keeping tabs on him, Todd. That’s ridiculous.” Damian countered. “I’m merely making sure they’re still together.”

A moment to let the fire crackle.

“Well, I’m also making sure that boy isn’t hurting or manipulating Drake in some way.” Damian murmured softly. “But mostly, I’m just making sure they’re still together.”

Jason crossed his ankle over his knee. “Why?”

“What, I can’t be concerned for my brother’s safety and happiness?”

Jason snorted. “Not that brother’s.”

Damian glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. Then back to the fire.

Jason waited a minute, let his eyes dart across Damian’s back, study his posture. “…Why are you so concerned if Tim and his new boy-toy are still together?”

Damian shrugged silently.

“Don’t do that.” Jason scolded. “Use your words, Damian. Like a big boy.”

Damian let out a frustrated exhale. “I’m just…confirming Drake isn’t looking elsewhere.”

“What, to cheat on his boyfriend?” Jason drawled. “Timmy’s not the cheating type, I can tell.”

“No. No.” Damian said sternly. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying!” Damian threw his arms out. Let them fall back to his thighs with a slight smack. “…I’m saying I’ve seen him look at others the way he looks at Bernard Dowd and that is…concerning. …To me.”

“Others?” Jason questioned. “What others?”

“Like Conner Kent!” Damian finally spun around now. Jason’s eyebrows rose in surprise and Damian rolled his eyes again. “Oh don’t tell me you don’t see it. Those two have been flirting with each other since the damn day they met. Drake dating this boy now only confirms the possibility of their eventual coupling.”

Jason let his face settle back into neutral, let the words bounce around in his brain. “Okay…I guess I can agree with that.”

Tim glanced up at Dick, who gave him a wink. Tim’s face instantly went beet red.

“But that still tells me nothing.” Jason continued. “So Tim and Conner maybe had or have crushes on each other. Maybe they’re attracted to each other. Maybe they’re forever star-crossed and nothing will ever happen. So what? Why does that bother you?”

Damian kept his lips pressed firmly together. After a moment, he spun back towards the fire.

“…Damian?”

“…Because it would be weird.” Damian said at last. “It would be weird if he and Conner…”

Damian’s voice fell to an unintelligible mumble.

“What?” Jason asked gently. “I didn’t catch that.”

Damian mumbled again, still impossible to understand.

“Kid, you’re gonna have to speak up, okay. I can’t hear you-”

“I said it would be weird if he was dating Conner while I was dating Jon!” Damian yelled, whirling around once more. “And if he breaks up with Dowd and starts dating Conner before I can gain the courage to talk to Jon then I’ll lose my chance!”

His last words echoed in the space around them. Floated into the hallway and echoed up the stairs, too.

Not that anyone noticed. Tim had grabbed Dick’s bicep, while Dick had thrown a hand over his own mouth in surprise.

“Oh my god.” Tim whispered. “Oh my god, oh my god.”

“That…” Dick murmured. “That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Jason, luckily, had more composure than the two of them, and suddenly Tim realized why it was Jason doing the prodding, not Dick.

Jason’s eyes had just widened, no other movement than that. He remained still, remained calm, even as Damian’s face darkened, and embarrassed tears appeared in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh.” He said simply. “Oh, Damian.”

“Shut up.” Damian crossed his arms again, but they all knew this time it was to hold himself. “Don’t…don’t make fun of me.”

“Never.” Jason promised. “But also, not a thing you need to worry about.”

“Why, because Jon will turn me down anyway?” Damian whispered bitterly, turning away. Not towards the fire this time, just the window.

“He’d be an idiot to, and I’ll beat the shit out of him if he does.” Jason said as he uncrossed his legs and leaned his elbows on his knees. “No, I mean, you don’t need to worry about it because it wouldn’t be weird if y’all just so happened to be double-dating.”

Damian waited, then glanced back at Jason. “It wouldn’t?” Jason smiled and shook his head. “There isn’t like…I mean…a law…?” He inhaled slowly. “If Drake and Conner started dating, wouldn’t that make Jonathan and I…related?”

“That’s only if they got married, and even then, wouldn’t be weird.” Jason shrugged. “What, you’ve never heard those stories of like…twins marrying another set of twins? That shit happens all the time. You wouldn’t be the first.”

Damian blinked owlishly, let his hands fall back to his sides. “…Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Jason laughed, standing. “Besides, Tim seems to really like Blondie whats-his-name so…I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.” A second, to cheekily add: “At least…not right now.”

Damian twisted his lips. “I told you their chemistry was obvious.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, so is Bruce and Clark’s if you ask the tabloids and half the Justice League.” Jason droned, reaching out for Damian’s shoulder and tugging him into his side. “But like I said, don’t worry about it. Who cares about your idiot brother and who he’s dating, let’s focus more on you and how you’re gonna woo one Jonathan Kent, mmkay?”

He quickly ushered Damian out of the room using a door on the far side, only glancing back once to mouth oh my god! dramatically to the ones watching from the hall.

“That…” Tim exhaled as Jason closed the door behind them. “…was the most precious thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

Dick hummed in agreement, then: “…But is he right?”

Tim glanced up at him.

“You and Conner?”

Tim felt his face warm a little. “…I’m dating Bernard, Dick.”

“Okay.”

“And…I think I should go call him. We haven’t talked all day.”

Dick smirked. “Okay.”

“…Don’t look at me like that.”

Dick let out a chuckle. “Okay.”

“…Stop saying okay.”

“…Okay.”

“Dick!”

He laughed again. “Sorry, sorry.” He ran his fingers through Tim’s hair. “Tell Bernard I said hello, and also warn him that your younger brother is absolutely ready to gut him, should he hurt you.”

Oh yeah. Tim forgot that little tidbit. He felt his face warm even faster.

“Yeah…” He sighed, turning towards the stairs. He ignored the little flutter in his heart, at the idea of his lovesick, protective, ridiculous little brother. God, that kid. “Yeah, I think that’s probably something he oughta know.”

#Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #jondami #timkon #timbernard #whatever that ship name is idk

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lupiningwolves · 4 years ago

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Not without him | Regulus Black x fem!reader

summary: Y/N Potter and Regulus Black...

warnings: character death, mentions of death, mentions of food, angst

—

Seven years ago, a little eleven year old girl walked through the Great Hall. The students from the four houses watched every move the first years made. But two boys were more curious about what was about to happen. Two best friends watched as their younger siblings walked behind Professor McGonagall.

„Are you nervous?“, asked the black haired boy that walked next to Y/N. She nodded nervous. He took her hand and smiled warmly at her. „It‘s gonna be alright.“

„Thank you“, she said. When McGonagall stopped before the teachers table, she announced what will happen. But Y/N already knew. Just one year ago, her brother wrote excitedly a letter to her, saying that he was put in Gryffindor and already made friends.

„Regulus Black“, McGonagall shouted. All eyes turned to the boy that slowly let go of the girls hand, smiled weakly at her and walked to the Sorting Hat.

He sat down and McGonagall was about to put it on his head. It just touched his black hair as it shouted: „Slytherin!“ The girl felt her heart sink for a moment. The Slytherin table cheered loudly while all the other tables stayed silent.

It felt like an eternity until her name was called. „Y/N Potter.“ She walked to the Professor and waited until the hat was on her head.

„Mhm, ah, alright ...“ She had never been more nervous in her life. „Let’s make it - Gryffindor!“ She smile bright and went to the Gryffindors that we’re more than happy to have the other Potter in their house.

„Y/N.“ Her brother smiled at her and hugged her.

„Jamesie“, she responded.

„I‘m so proud of you“, he muttered. He let her go again and faced his best friends. „Y/N, that’s Remus, Peter and Sirius.“

„Hi“, Peter said smiling and Remus waved at her. But Sirius said nothing.

The boys looked at him worried and talked to him about his brother being a Slytherin. The girl didn’t take part in the conversation, but sure listened to what they said.

And when she laid in her bed at her first night at Hogwarts, she decided to became friends with him. A friendship between a Gryffindor and Slytherin, especially a Potter and a Black, was difficult. But not impossible.

During her first year, Y/N slowly but steady became friends with Regulus. And by the start of second year, the two were inseparable.

„Regulus“, she beamed as she saw him at the Hogwarts Express. She wanted to go to him, but her brother held her back.

„Not now, Y/N. He‘ll come along. Just like Sirius will.“ She nodded sadly.

Sat alone in a compartment, she waited for him to come, just like he promised before holiday. But when the train started moving, she lost all hope.

With her head against the window, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come over her. But nothing happened.

„Is here still a seat for me?“ Y/N smiled as she heard the voice and looked to the door.

„Reggie.“ She got up and hugged him like there was no tomorrow. „I missed you.“

„I missed you too, Y/N.“

In her third year, Y/N found out about all the stuff that was going on at the Black house.

She just wanted to use the toilet when she saw her best friend crying in Moaning Myrtles bathroom.

„Reggie“, she breathed out. He raised his head from inbetween his knees that were pulled up to his chest.

„Y/N, I - You shouldn’t have seen me like this.“ He wiped his tears away, but a sob escaped his lips.

Y/N slowly made her way to him to give him time to decide, if he wants her here. But when he didn’t say anything, she kneeled down next to him and wrapped her arms tight around him.

„It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here now. You have me and always will. Shh“, she whispered in his ear. „Do you want to talk about it?“

Regulus didn’t want to. But he knew her better than anybody else and was sure that she would want him to talk anyway. So he told her everything.

In the end, both of them were crying and in each other’s arms.

„Come on. I got a good friend that has more chocolate than books. And let me tell you, that means he has a lot of chocolate.“ She got up and pulled him to his feet. Then, she dragged him to the Gryffindor tower and sneaked into the dorm of her brother where she stole a few chocolate bars.

In fifth year, Y/N started listening more to what the people around her said. And what they said was that she and Regulus were in a relationship.

Before summer, she didn’t think that she could actually be in love with him. But the more time she thought about it, she was sure that the butterflies in her stomach when she thought about him and the jealousy when she saw another girl talking to him, were love.

And who better ask for help than the most lucky person in love herself.

„James, I kinda need you help in something“, she had said.

„What’s on?“

„I - I think I‘m in love.“ The older boy‘s eyes had widened at his sister’s confession.

„Who is it - No, I already know it“, he had corrected himself. „Well, my dear sister, just talk to him I guess. I could ask Sirius if he knows anything.“

The girl had smiled. „You‘d do that?“

„Anything for my little sister.“

So she thought the whole summer about how to confess her feeling towards her crush.

When the teachers talked about their upcoming O.W.L.s, Y/N found herself watching Regulus as he twirled his quill between his fingers.

One time in the library, Y/N studied for the last O.W.L when Regulus sat down in front of her, a big smile across his face.

„Guess what?“, he asked happy.

„What?“ She was happy too, because she had never this such a big smile on his lips.

„I got a date.“ Her heart sunk and her face fell. But she reminded herself that she was his best friend, so she forced herself to a smile.

„Really? Must be a lucky girl then.“

„Yeah, she is amazing“, he said deep in thought. „She isn’t a Slytherin, Mother and Father are going to kill me. But she is worth it. She is beautiful. The most beautiful girl I have ever seen. When I saw her the first time in first year, I knew she was going to be the one I marry.“ His smile grew and grew by his words. And Y/N thought she was going to cry. „She was nervous, you know. I saw it on her face when she walked down the Great Hall. So I took her hand.“

She realised what he was about to say. „Wait - W-What?“

„You, Y/N. Sometimes I wonder how you’re one of the best in all classes. I thought it was obvious.“ She shook your head still in shock. „Well, Darling, you and me are going to Hogsmeade together.“

„We always do, Dumbass“, she retorted.

„We are going out. As in I like you and you like me back more than friends.“

„I‘d be more than happy about that, Mr Black.“

Their relationship wasn’t easy, not at all. They were happy when they had one day without a comment from anyone. When Regulus was back home during summer, he told his parents. And the owl that reached Y/N made her look herself in her room for days.

She was more than happy to see him in September. She thought about breaking up with him. The comments from all around them made her insecure about herself and their relationship. And, more important, his health and relationship with his parents worried her the most.

So she decided to talk to him after a few weeks back at Hogwarts.

„Reggie, can we talk for a second?“, she asked him when she was sure that he was done with eating dinner.

„What - Yeah, of course.“ He wasn’t sure why his girlfriend was so nervous. When they walked out of the Great Hall he wanted to take her hand, but she pulled it away.

„We need to break up“, she said when they were in the safe space of her dorm room.

His face fell. „What? Why?“

Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the sad look on his face. „Reggie, please. You need to understand that-“ He cut her off.

„There is nothing to understand, Y/N. I thought we were doing fine“, he said not so calmly anymore. „What is it? Is there somebody else?“

„What?! No, you know I would never love someone else. There will always be just you.“

„Then why?! Is it the others? The comments?“ She didn’t say anything, but Regulus knew by the look on her face that it was exactly what had got her upset. „Y/N, don’t listen to them. They’re all idiots. I love you, okay?“ Both of them froze at what he said. „I didn’t want you to know this way, but yes, I love you. More than anything in the world. So please, give us another chance. I‘ll do everything to make this work.“

She stepped forward to hug him. „I love you too“, she said against his chest. „I’m sorry.“

„Don’t be, pretty girl. I know it gets hard sometimes.“

Regulus and Y/N. After Sirius and Remus the most beautiful couple. Even Lily and James looked bad against them. They went through hell, but still got each other.

When James graduated, Regulus took James part in keeping everything bad away from her. And she kept away the demons that followed him. But there was one thing she couldn’t stop.

He was a death eater.

He told her immediately when he got the mark. She was angry and sad. But not at him, at his stupid family that made him do what he did.

After they graduated, Regulus bought them a small flat near the one Remus and Sirius got. All of them became friends because of Y/N and James. But Sirius still hadn’t got over the fact that his brother was one of them.

But Regulus and Y/N were happy. More than that, they were engaged. No one from the black family knew, except Sirius of course. They wanted to wait until after the war to get married.

All happy and giggling, Y/N came back from her parents to Sirius and Remus‘ flat where everyone was supposed to meet. Regulus said he‘d be there too.

She opened the door and took her shoes off. „I‘m here!“, she beamed and went to the living room. Remus had Sirius in his arms while he was silently crying. James sat on a chair with his face buried in his hands. She heard the girls talking in the kitchen. „What’s going on?“

They looked up at her confused. „Y/N“, James whispered. „You haven’t -“

„I haven’t what?“, she asked worried. She had never seen Sirius crying before. „Where is Reggie? I thought he was coming too?“ Sirius broke down again and a tear escaped her eye.

James got up and hugged her. „I‘m so sorry, Y/N.“

She got out from his grip and looked at him. „What is going on? Where is he?“

„He’s dead, Y/N“, her brother whispered as the girls came in the kitchen and abruptly stopped when they saw the younger girl.

But she didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t believe it. „When this is one of your pranks, James, I swear to my life ...“ But her brother was serious.

„We‘re so sorry, Y/N“, Lily said. She went to hug her, but she backed away.

„That’s not true“, she muttered. „You’re lying. I talked to him this morning. He said he’d meet me here. He said he couldn’t wait until the wedding. He - H-He-“ A sob escaped her lips and tears flooded over her cheeks. „Please“, she looked around the room and saw everyone’s sad gaze. „No“, she mumbled.

Her knees gave in and before she could fall to the ground, her brother caught her and pulled her in his embrace. „I’m right here. Shh.“

„He can’t leave me“, she sobbed into his chest. „He- He said he’d never leave me. Never. Why? Why did he lie?“ More tears ran down her face. She could barely breath. „I loved him.“

„I know. He loved you too. So much“, her brother said and stroked her hair. „It’s gonna be alright.“

„Nothing is gonna be alright! He’s gone! He is gone.“ She whispered the last part as her voice broke. „I can’t live without him.“

„You can, Y/N. It’s gonna be a rough time. But we’re all here for you. We can get through this together.“

But she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to live without him. Not without the love of her life.

#regulus black #regulus black angst #regulus black x reader #marauders era x reader #marauders #marauders x reader

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literate-simp · 4 years ago

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BEING BESTIES W/ SOME JJK CHARACTERS; Yuuji, Megumi, Nobara, Gojou and Sukuna.

Notes: Look. I know we all simp terribly for our husbandos/waifus but I just wanted to write a simple hc about what it's like to be their besties

Warning(s): slight cursing. I indulged too much on Sukuna.

Includes: gn! reader, fluff, chaotic energy, mentions of romance (just light)

Itadori Yuji

He's friends with everyone, says hi to strangers and probably would be besties with every old lady he meets so it wasn't hard to be friends with him.

But the second he becomes besties with you, shit's gonna get borderline chaotic.

3AM and y'all can't sleep? McDonald's parking lot with an abandoned shopping car would sound damned fine. You both remember the moment as 'Chicken Nuggies and the Wind' since he t-posed on the moving cart whilst eating nuggies (you both almost scratched a Ferari).

If you weren't a jujutsu sorcerer in training, he'd still try to sneak you in his room to watch some movies. You with the snacks, leaving Yuji in charge of the movie picking (you can't decide to save your life)

Cuddles! Nothing wrong with besties cuddling. He's extremely respectful to your s/o (if you have one) and are probably good friends with them too!

Though the second you come to him crying, they were already being patched up in the hospital. Won't hit a woman, against his morals, but he will make sure she never speaks to you again.

Understanding, chaotic besties! An arm around your shoulder when someone's obviously making you uncomfortable, he's the one barking when he sees someone slip something into your drink.

The friend to help you find your way out of a frat house. Makes sure you're getting touched with your consent and sober. All you need to do is give him a sign that you're alright and he'll give you a thumbs up before leaving.

Definitely the friend you'd open up to (about anything) and not be treated differently after so.

You told him about your problems a few minutes prior. It was quiet, a bit too quiet. And you were worried he might leave you for it.

"Ey, Y/N. Wanna go to McDonald's again? I think they have that burger you like," He blurts, catching you off guard. You raise your eyebrows before smiling gratefully.

"Sounds great, Itadori."

You guys talk about women with butts all the time. Not out of thirst or anything, it would just be a random thought that comes up and one of you would contribute to the other. You once mentioned something about Jennifer Lawrence and he would not stop talkinf about her. It was hilarious how much he was drooling.

You wear his hoodies and he's fine with it. Thinks you look good in them. Sukuna teases you both about your relationship and Yuji slaps his mouth shut before he says anything more.

"You look great in them, Y/N," Itadori grins, rummaging through his closet to find more hoodies.

"Thank you. They're pretty comfy," You mention the fabric and the fluffiness. He listens to you intently before Sukuna pops out from his cheek.

"Ehhh? This is the one you think about everyday--," Itadori has never slapped his cheek so hard before in his life.

Megumi Fushiguro

Honestly, pretty chill dude.

He has a small group of people he trusts, and a smaller one to which he considers to be his good friends.

So to be his best friend, you must've gained a huge amount of respect from him; saved him, maybe even overheard something you shouldn't have and kept quiet about it on your own accord.

You would have a 'you aren't comfortable with it, so I'm not forcing anything' vibe to which he would be relieved to know. Though even so, you are the more hyper one in the platonic relationship.

Outings would consist of trips to libraries or quiet nights on the couch with your legs entangled together with lo-fi music playing in the background.

Not much talking, Megumi likes to keep to himself and you have no problem with the comfortable silence you both bring together.

Though sometimes it gets too quiet so you annoy the hell out of him to get his attention; cheek poking, soft arm punches, slight pushing.

Megumi ignores this, finding your actions a bit cute. If it gets too annoying, he will get up and leave, having you trail behind him, whining like a child wanting candy.

Yuji would join in. Definitely. Nobara too if she was bored enough.

"Megumi~ I want your attention~," You whine, running after the raven-haired man.

"Yeah! Yeah! Pay attention to Y/N!" Yuji supports you. You clap your hands together, only to be hit with a shoe by Megumi.

He would never do anything outside of your comfort zone. If you had an s/o, they both would be neutral with each other.

If you were to get hurt from said s/o, they would leave your house with a bloody knuckle. He wouldn't hit a girl, but he definitely will destroy whatever life she has outside of your relationship with her.

Parties are a no-go for him, unless his friends force him to. He's the designated driver with three other drunk children (Hint; Yuuji, Nobara and you). He wouldn't carry anyone else but you back to your room.

"Jeez, Y/N. You should know how to handle your alcohol," Megumi sighs, laying you on top of your bed gently and pulling the covers up.

"Nngh. Didn't know it was alcohol," You groaned. He smiles, patting your cheek before getting up to leave.

"I'll get you some painkillers in the morning, alright?"

You can wear his sweatshirts if you annoy him about it (he secretly likes how comfortable you are around him). He thinks you look charming in them, Yuji never shuts up about your friendship. It's the few times he's seen Megumi genuinely smile.

Nobara Kugisaki

Radiates bad bitch energy.

It isn't easy in the first stages since she has standards with friends but the second you both find something similar about each other, it's an immediate ride-or-die friendship.

You would need a major backbone, 'I'm too hot for this bs' kinda vibe (it's canon that the reader is a bad bitch, periodt). You would have arguments with her but it's pretty basic stuff like the perfect colour for nailpolish or whether Maki deserves the Earth or the universe (you both agree it's the universe).

Outings consists of shopping malls and popular cafes. You take selfies everytime you see something relatively new.

Talk about anything under the sun -- newest trends, new food to try out, Maki -- but her favourites are hearing you talk about your day. If you weren't a jujutsu sorcerer, she'd visit your apartment, give you a hug and sit on the couch to listen to you blabber away about something that isn't related to curses or death. She needs time to rewind and you never mention how vulnerable she looks when she's tired.

"Uh-huh and what happens next?" Nobara asked, carressing your hair as you lay on her lap.

"He wouldn't stop following us! It was so creepy! No means no right? Like why would you waste your energy following a group of friends who aren't interested?" You ranted on. Nobara simply nods in agreement, smiling at your annoyed face.

She doesn't mind your s/o, probably would just say hi before leaving you two alone. She doesn't have a problem about her friends having a relationship, she does, however, gets pissed that she isn't in one.

If you come to her crying about them, she would slither in some 'fuckin told you they were gonna do it' or 'I told you so'. Though it makes you upset, you know she's gonna trash their house the second you leave the room.

Your (now) ex would suddenly be cancelled beyond belief, you wouldn't know what happened to them.

Despite the bad bitch personality, you are the more patient one.

Parties is a yes. She comes in as a self-confident woman and will leave self-confident and drunk. She's the life of the party and pulls you into conversations to keep you company. Even if you don't contribute much to the conversation, she makes sure you aren't out of her sight. She's not the type to bring a friend to a party and leave them the second after. She cares about you even if her way of showing was a bit too pushy.

You share clothes with her and she'll give you comments about it.

"The shirt doesn't fit. No, no. The other one. Yeah, that one."

"Who cares if people say you aren't supposed to wear skirts? Your ass rocks better in those than mine. Just take them."

Personally likes dressing you up, doesn't like dressing you up for dates though. Still doesn't know why.

Gojou Satoru

God, the willpower you have to even tolerate this man is immense.

It's not hard to be his friend, all you have to do is do something that amuses him and he'll keep teasing you about it.

In this platonic relationship, you're the more calm one. People call you to take care of Gojou constantly, and you're the only one he allows to scold him.

He goes for missions half the time so it's rare to see you both go for outings. The most you've been together outside of Jujustu Tech and work hours was in a bar with Nanami (you both bond over the fact that Gojou is terrible to work with). He got too drunk and started slurring his words.

"Y/N~ stohp flirting with Nanamin and talk to meee," He whines, pinching your cheeks as you sigh.

"We are simply talking about your bad work habits, Satoru," Nanami answers whilst shaking his head, downing another drink before he gets up to leave. "I'll take him home, rest well Y/N."

"Noooo, I want Y/N!"

A needy best friend. Constantly asks for attention. If you ignored him, he would only make the situation slightly more annoying -- similar to Megumi's Y/N, the basic cheek poking and whining.

Your s/o would probably hate him, he's a bit too flirty and likes to hug you in public. People mistake you both for a couple rather than the s/o at hand. Don't be surprised if it's the main reason your relationships don't end well.

If you come to him upset because of them, he wouldn't waste a second to zoom to your shared apartment and 'deal' with the person. Would come back with a smile and some takoyaki. No blood on him since he used his infinity.

Parties are alright with him. He's the cool flirty dude everyone seems to fawn over. Would accompany you for half an hour, only to leave with another chick to a nearby bedroom. You never end up partying with him after opening the God forsaken door and he's never stopped trying to make it up to you.

Other than the traumatic event, he'd a bit of a douche but still tries to look for you in the crowd. He waves once he sees you and flashes a reassuring smile before continuing his talk with the others.

You don't share clothes with him simply because it's Gojou. Who knows when the last time he washed his clothes.

Though he's willing to share. You're just more reluctant, really. Finds it cute when his shirts are slightly bigger than you. If you're built bigger than he is, he would like how tight it looks on your body.

"Starting to think you look better in my clothes than I am. And that's a pretty good compliment." He grins.

Hates the fact you never take his compliments seriously. Says it from the bottom of his heart, he really thinks you're charming.

Ryomen Sukuna

God, was it hard trying to befriend this curse of a man. An asshole, he stuck his feet out to trip you over multiple times before cackling like a damned demon (which he is).

Though you're always genuine with him. You liked having conversations with him and listen to him boast about himself for hours. Guess that's when he saw you as a close acquaintance.

Would never tell you you're his best friend. Never. Not once. Him simply acknowledging you was enough for everyone to know he favored one person.

Being friends with Sukuna meant being friends Yuji. Itadori always apologizes on his behalf and you would always laugh, telling him it's alright. Sukuna gets annoyed by this though.

"Stupid human. Who do you think you are being all mush with this useless vessel of mine?" He sneered the second he could pop out. You shrugged, taking some popcorn to feed him.

"He's a pretty good guy. You should cut him some slack," You answered, stuffing some popcorn to your face as well

Will constantly threaten to kill you but you never paid heed. You know you're his only friend. You don't agree with his actions but you find the curse interesting.

Literally the only person who's allowed to tease him. You get away with things most curses would get killed from. You once hand him super hot sauce for his pancakes and he glared at you for the remainder of his time being conscious in Yuji's body. You found the plate broken with a fork stabbed through it.

You aren't allowed to go on outings with Sukuna (obviously) so you both spend your time within Yuji's room. Not allowed to go out since everyone'll freak out seeing Yuji with tattoos resembling the King of Curses.

"Humans are so boring," Sukuna groaned, his head on the bedstand. "All they do is just sit around doing nothing but scroll through their stupid boxes." You smiled at him.

"Not my fault you commit mass genocide for fun. I'd say we're pretty passive."

He would literally never care about your love life. Still has the old man mentality that romance meant sex and that was about it. If they were to meet, the curse would just roll his eyes and turn the other way.

Getting hurt by your s/o results to hurtful teasing and bloodshed. No in-between, no nothing. He wouldn't know how to comfort you properly so he'd send Yuji in his place. Would sit at the back of Yuji's mind getting pissed that he was hugging and rubbing your back gently as if he couldn't have done it himself (literally sent Yuji only to judge him).

Not allowed to go out so parties is also a no-go BUT since this is just a headcanon, let's imagine it's college AU.

College AU Sukuna would love parties -- he throws them, orders his friends to invite hot girls and frat guys. And invites you himself. No one would know you were friends since he never mentions it but will literally choke anyone who looks at you like you're a piece of candy.

Gets way too drunk and probably have railed 3 people to cloud 9 in a matter of 2 hours but still go out just to check up on you. He doesn't necessarily care but he hates having the sick feeling that you were in possible danger somewhere he wouldn't be able to see you.

Stare at you for a good 3 seconds before leaving you alone. You'd never know he was there.

Clothes! His clothes are Yuji's and he barely even keeps his shirts in tact. Does he care whether you wear it or not? No.

Is he pissed? Slightly.

This took me two days, I'm not sure if it sounds canon anymore. Anyways, thank you for reading!

♡︎ literate-simp

#jjk #jjk headcanons #jjk headcanon #nobara headcanons #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #megumi headcanons #gojo headcanons #itadori yuji #itadori headcanons #jjk nobara #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna headcanons #jjk fluff #jjk fluff headcanons #jjk hc

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seulgiology · 5 years ago

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dangerous love | jeon jungkook

pairings: mafia leader!jungkook x female!reader

words: 3.7k

genre: ze smut, a bit of fluff

warnings: shower sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, dirty talk, manhandling, choking, overstimulation, cursing, multiple orgasms, soft aftercare uwu

a/n: is this admin 2 writing smut?? yes it is beautiful people, admin 2 is here with some flavorful smut. i love writing smut but like it takes me a while and i’ve been working on this for over a week ,,, oops. i kinda rushed it though so im sorry. um uh hopefully you guys like it like i do :)).

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

--- The clapping thunder being heard throughout the city had you clutching onto the strap of your purse tightly. You quickly look around you for any suspicious acts and are relieved when you find none. People around you were rushing to their cars or finding shelter for the oncoming thunderstorm. However, there you were getting some ramen late at night when there is a fully stocked kitchen at home.

With everything except ramen. Courtesy to your boyfriend who remembers everything except to buy ramen. Hence why you do all the grocery shopping.

You instantly regretted leaving the house because it felt like eyes were on you. Especially because you were alone now. Jungkook had told you not to leave the house because he was going to e busy tonight and he wouldn’t be able to travel with you. But you didn’t think that going to the convenience store would be such a worry.

Your fingers itched to grab at your phone to call Jungkook to come and get you but you didn’t want to interrupt his plans. Even though it had been a few hours since he had left with a lingering kiss on your lips and a promise to be home later. You’re sure he should be on his way home now and he would lose his shit if he came home and you weren’t there.

Hearing footsteps behind you that you didn’t hear before, you discreetly look back and curse under your breath when you see it’s someone with a dark hood following you. Fear crawls up your spine and you indistinctly grab at the gun on the holster on your thigh, the weight reminding you that you’re at least a little bit protected.

You speed up your steps and start to take a shortcut onto the busy street, hoping to lose the person you hope is not following you. When you make sight of the luxurious building you happen to live in, you all but jog in there. You don’t pay attention to the person at the front desk and get into the elevator that was opening with people leaving. You slip in just as you see the person following you get caught up in the people coming out of the elevator.

A big sigh of relief is released and you slump against the elevator wall, closing your eyes shut. Your hand leaves your thigh and you stop clenching the bag that holds the ramen so tightly in your hands. When you make it to the penthouse level, which is the one you live on, you exit the elevator and walk down the short corridor. You enter the code and step in, kicking off your shoes and tossing the bag of ramen to the side along with your purse.

Just as you neatly place your shoes, you hear someone start to enter the code. What the fuck? You think to yourself as you place yourself on the wall against the wall, taking your gun and holding it up to your chin. Whoever it was about to come in was sure to regret it.

When the door swings open, you don’t get to see who it is because the door closes quickly after like it usually does. You point the gun at the person in the dark, the obvious cocking of it gaining the persons attention and soon you feel the cool butt of their own gun against your forehead and they’re pressing you to the wall harshly. With quick hands, you grab at the knife behind your back and hold it to their neck.

“I’ll slit your throat if you don’t tell me who you are in five seconds,” you harshly say and press the knife harder. “Y/N? What the hell are you doing?!” the shocked voice of your boyfriend is heard and when the light is flicked on from beside you and you’re met with the face of your boyfriend.

“Oh, my god Jungkook I’m so sorry,” You rush out, pulling your weapons away from him and them back where they previously were. Jungkook removes his gun to and hums at you impressively.

“As hot as you holding a knife to my neck was I should be concerned as to why you were in the first place. Is everything okay?” Jungkook asks while crossing his arms across his chest. You take note of the thin and long black coat he wears over his black turtleneck and dark jeans, black boots adorning his feet. His hand tattoos are evident and you lick your lips as images of his other tattoos swim through your mind, and arousal spikes just at the thought of his strong hands around your throat. Anyways-

“I thought someone was following me,” you admit without thinking, and when Jungkook asks why you answer. Again, without thinking. “Because when I left the convenience store, I could’ve sworn someone was following me.”

“Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t safe out tonight,” Jungkook scolds with his eyebrows narrowing down as he snatched the bag off the floor, dark hair falling in his face that he roughly pushes back. With a roll of your eyes, you follow him as he walks to the kitchen.

“But there wasn’t ramen in the house and I was hungry for something as simple as it,” you say and Jungkook scoffs at this. You watch as he takes his coat off and places it on one of the stools. His muscles are practically ripping through the soft fabric of the turtleneck and you almost whine at the sight.

“I don’t give a fuck if there wasn’t juice in the house Y/N. I tell you these things to keep you safe. You out at night alone without me is dangerous,” Jungkook says, clearly irritated with you. You lean against the kitchen bar and watch him roll up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing more of his tattoos.

“Did everything go good tonight at least?” You ask genuinely interested and also to sway him from the issue at hand. Jungkook hums in agreement after taking a big gulp of water he snatched from the fridge. You can tell he was upset at you and you understood why but he should understand how much you love ramen by now.

“I’m going to shower,” Jungkook tells you and walks towards you. You look up at is frame towering over your small one and smile. Jungkook softens and leans down to kiss you, holding you to him by a firm grip on your jaw. The kiss doesn’t last as long as you want it to and you’re chasing after his lips when he pulls away.

You stubbornly grab his face and kiss him again, this time leaning on your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook makes a noise of approval and places his hands low on your hips. Your lips move together sensually and when Jungkook’s hands wander down to your ass to give it a squeeze, you moan into his mouth.

Before things can get further, however, he is pulling away from you and you whine at the loss. You flutter your eyes open for them to be half-lidded and Jungkook grins at your blown-out pupils, your eyes screaming for you to fuck him. The way your body is moving towards him alone and he knew you were about to start pleading for him.

“Not right now baby,” Jungkook dismisses despite his own growing arousal in his pants that was starting to strain against the confines of his jeans. The look you were giving him had him wanting to bend you over the counter and fuck you so good but he had to restrain himself. He was still upset with you after all and he couldn’t let you have your way right now. Even if it was what he wanted right now too.

Yup, a cold shower will surely help him right now.

You huff childishly as you watch your boyfriend walk away from you. You mock him under your breath while taking your weapons out. You place the gun and knife on the kitchen island with a light noise and sigh. Trailing after Jungkook to your bedroom, you hear the shower water start from the bathroom attached to your bedroom.

When you enter the room, you catch sight of his gun on the bed and you move it on your vanity. You stand in the middle of your room with pursed lips and crossed arms, glancing from the bathroom door to the bedroom door, contemplating on whether you should just go make your ramen or join Jungkook in the shower.

With a nod to yourself, you start to strip out of your clothes and when you’re done, you tie your hair in a bun on top of your hair even though Jungkook was most likely going to take it out anyways. You push open the door to the bathroom that was already ajar and quietly slip in, going unnoticed.

You slide open the shower door and get in, the man who is supposed to be a mafia leader not even knowing you’re sneaking up on him. It almost makes you want to laugh. But as you put your hand on his shoulder and he doesn’t even twitch a bit, you know he knew you were coming.

“Hey,” you greet softly, wrapping your arms around his wet and strong body. Jungkook looks over his shoulder to glance down at you and you gaze back up at him with a sweet smile. He turns around in your arms and his dark eyes slowly rakes over your body. The look sends chills down your spine in the suffocatingly hot shower and you feel your clit throb to life.

“What are you doing in here?” Jungkook asks in a low voice, turning you and pushing you against the shower wall to the point where the water is now drenching you. You slide your small hands up chiseled chest and rest them on his shoulders, biting your bottom lip in feign innocence.

“I want to shower with my boyfriend,” you whisper as your hands make it in his wet and long hair. Jungkook’s eyes darken at the statement and his hand’s grip at your waist tighter, almost causing you to whimper but you hold it back. “So don’t look at me like that and let’s shower. There’s way more than enough room in here for us,” you remind him with a wink after pushing his body off of yours.

You step forward to grab your loofah but in a blink of an eye, Jungkook is grabbing your wrists and pinning them behind your back, pressing you against the shower door but this time with his chest pressed against your back. You gasp at the feeling of his hard cock poking your ass and you moan brokenly. His grip on your wrist is unforgiving and when he trails his other hand up to wrap around your throat, you tilt your head back in absolute pleasure and close your eyes.

“I don’t think I heard you correctly sweetheart. What was it you said, again? Did you ask me not to look at you?” Jungkook whispers in your ear with a rough edge to his tone, biting at your earlobe and causing you to moan. When you don’t directly answer him, he bucks his hips into yours and it makes your body press against the glass more, your boobs becoming uncomfortable but you’re enjoying this too much to stop it.

The feel of his dick sliding against your lips that is dripping wet with arousal makes you restless, trying to move your hips back but Jungkook squeezes your throat tighter. “N-No,” you answer through gasps of breaths, and Jungkook hums lowly at the answer.

Jungkook lets you go but you stay against the glass to get a grip of yourself. Jungkook was going to be the death of you for sure and if he doesn’t fuck you tonight, then you would shoot him in the dick with his own gun.

This time when you go to grab your loofah, Jungkook lets you and he continues to wash his body like nothing happened. You look down at his dick that is shamelessly hard and you crave for it to be in you or for it to have your lips wrapped around it. You look away before your boyfriend could notice and your quick to wash your body, not paying any attention to your hair since you had washed it the night before.

Just as you’re finishing up with rinsing your body off under the water to rid of the soapy suds, Jungkook’s hands are on you again. His hands massage into your body and you sigh contently at the feeling, leaning onto his chest. After he stops his soft movements, you lean up and press your lips on his. Jungkook holds you close to him with his hands on your lower back, your wet chests pressing together in a way that feels good to both of you.

Just the feeling of your body on his alone has him going into override.

Your tongues dance together fervently and you press your body against his more when his hands grab at your ass, squeezing it hard due to your wet and slippery bodies. Jungkook cups your pussy from behind and you gasp into his mouth, jolting at the unexpected action. His other hand is on the side of your neck and tilts it to the side as he removes his lips from yours, ghosting them down your neck and he starts his ministrations on your clit. Your eyes roll closed at the glorious feeling of his fingers giving you attention.

He runs his finger teasingly through your lips and when he makes contact with your clit, he rubs it lightly. Not nearly enough for you, so you try to grind down on his hands but a little nip at your neck warns you not to. Your mouth is open in silent pleasure and Jungkook coos against your skin.

He backs you against the wet shower wall again and moves his hand from your pussy. “Jungkook,” your voice comes out in a whine and he lifts his head so his eyes are on you again. You watch with wide eyes as your boyfriend sinks to his knees before you. He smirks at you while spreading your legs apart.

Jungkook gazes at your glistening pussy with a salivating mouth and he doesn’t hesitate to lift one of your legs over his shoulder. He doesn’t give you any warning before he’s attaching his lips onto your clit and you jerk in his hold, a low whimper leaving your lips at the pleasure that shoots up your spine.

Jungkook is relentless with the teasing movements of his tongue and you tug on his wet hair. He goes from sucking on your clit to flicking his tongue in and out of your entrance teasingly and your legs were trembling, about to give out on you.

“Ah, w-wait,” you try to pull him back due to your oncoming orgasm, however, your boyfriend has other plans because his finger is circling your entrance. You cry out when the first finger thrusts inside you all while his tongue is still lapping at you. Your head spins with the overwhelming sensation and you knew he wasn’t going to stop.

His name comes out in gasping breaths on your lips and as he curls the second finger inside of you, you come undone. Your eyes are squeezed closed and mouth open but not producing any noise. Jungkook hums in approval on you as he rides you through it with gentle motions of his fingers and your body protests at the sensitivity of overstimulation.

Your body slumps against the wall tiredly as Jungkook stands from his position, his fingers still lazily pumping inside of you despite your whining protests. His mouth crashes onto yours in a hard kiss that you respond to with the same ferocity. You moan at the taste of yourself and the feel of his fingers still working inside of you, scissoring you and unexpectedly adding a third finger. You gasp into his mouth and arch your back, wet chests pressing against each other.

“Want your cock,” you whimper against his lips, clenching around his finger tightly as they curl up into you and rubbing against you.

“Yeah? Beg for it,” Jungkook husks out and you whine again, grinding down on his fingers desperately. When you don’t respond, Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat yet again but squeezes harder this time. When your lust-filled gaze meets his, Jungkook’s dick gets even harder if that was even possible. Your lips are swollen from the hard kisses and cheeks flushed from the heat of the shower and recent orgasm, pupils were blown out and your hair was in wet tendrils around your shoulders from the scrunchie falling out of it.

“Please,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear. “Want you to fuck me so good, please… Please, want your cock so bad,” You beg shamelessly, your nails digging into his forearm, your eyes struggling to stay open.

You moan quietly when his fingers slowly leave you but you’re left empty. Jungkook hikes your leg up over his waist and aligns his cock to your dripping entrance, rubbing it over your folds. “Jungkook, please,” you lead, gripping his biceps, and Jungkook pushes into you slowly. Your head drops on his shoulder and a broken moan passes your lips, leg tightening around his waist.

Jungkook pushes the rest of his cock in you and hisses as you swallow him in your warm, wet walls. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans out. You moan at the painfully delicious feeling of him stretching you out.

“Faster,” you breathlessly stutter out and Jungkooks growls under his breath at the demand, gripping onto your thigh and fucking into you harder. Your moans came out in low, high-pitched sounds that were getting higher the more he thrust into you.

He held you to him as he fucked you, your nails clawing down his back and when he lifted up your other leg to wrap around his waist, you squealed at the feel of him going deeper. He now held you up against the shower wall, drilling up into you with deep thrusts. You chanted his name through whispers, pants, and moans the pleasure becoming too much.

“You always… feel so… ngh… fucking good,” Jungkook groans against your neck at the feel of your clenching walls around his cock. “Such a good girl for me,” Jungkook praises, and you clench him tighter at the words, the feeling of him so deep inside of you making your head spin.

“So close,” you whimper, nails digging into his back, and Jungkook groans at the sting from the brief pain. “Please, please please,” you beg through a sob, tears filling in your eyes. Jungkook is kissing you before you can beg anymore and one particularly hard thrust that hits your spot has you coming all over his dick.

“There you go baby,” Jungkook whispers against your lips but you’re too far gone to even pay notice to his words. He gently works his dick inside of you as your spasming body jerks in his hold from the orgasm that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Jungkook pulls out of you slowly when you have calmed down but you weren’t done. With shaky legs, you turn around and press your hands against the glass of the shower door that is fogged up. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Jungkook says from behind you, watching as you present yourself to him and look over at him with a heavy gaze. Jungkook steps closer to you and doesn’t waste any time sliding back into you. Your back arches at the feeling but Jungkook is wrapping his strong arms around your middle, holding your bodies close together as he bottoms out fully in you and you feed off the feeling of fullness it gives you.

“Look at you, so greedy for my cock,” Jungkook whispers in your ear with a rough edge to his voice. His cock constantly hits your g-spot and your pussy is being abused beautifully. “Fuck, fuck Y/N,” Jungkook mans lowly into your ear, trapping your earlobe between his teeth. When his fingers make contact with your swollen clit, you let out a sob and tears spillover.

“I’m close baby,” Jungkook says through heavy breaths and his hips start stuttering in their movements, chasing after his release and not giving up on his fingers assault on your clit.

“Come in me,” You moan out and that seems to do it for him because, with one pinch of your clit, he’s spilling his load into you and you’re coming for the second time on his cock. Your body tenses up and your vision sees stars as your walls clench him unbelievably tighter.

Jungkook holds you to him, still planted inside of him as your tired body slumps against him. Jungkook pulls out of you and kisses your shoulder when you wince at the sensitivity. “Let me clean you up, yeah?” Jungkook’s large hands are soothing your body and you nod tiredly, allowing him to clean the cum dripping down your legs.

You two finish in the shower with him saying soft words of praise in your ear and he wraps you in a fluffy towel once out, drying his body off and putting on some boxers and sweatpants. He takes his time in drying you off and loathing your body in your favorite lotion.

“I love you,” you say as he pulls one of his shirts over your head after he had put some panties on you. Jungkook smooths your hair out of your face and smiles, heart softening at the girl he loves more than anything.

“I love you too baby,” he whispers, kissing your lips softly and you sigh contently. Jungkook wraps you in his arms once you guys are under the soft blankets and he rubs your back, gently humming to ease you into sleep.

“Goodnight, my love.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook imagine #bts #bts smut #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagines #jungkook angst #bts scenarios #bts oneshot #bts mafia oneshot #jungkook can like choke me pls lol #gif isnt mine btw #long haired jungkook enthusiasts #jungkook with tattoos oof

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kyotarou · 4 years ago

Text

title: a little more noise

pairing: kyōtani kentarō x gn!reader

synopsis: in a world of constant silence, he’s the noise you need in life, even if he’s a bit quiet.

warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, lotta tropes and cliches, two swear words if i counted correctly

word count: 4.8k+

a/n: i wrote this in two days which i’m very proud of, go me! always wanted to write a kyōken fic and here it is. kinda scared to post this bc he’s quite tough to characterize imo and i’m terrible at writing longer pieces. oh well :,) no indentation because that’d be such a pain. hope you like it, feedback is always appreciated! (this is also my first time writing slowburn so please lmk if it’s still too fast)

Your parents were not bad people—that was a fact. They were kind, and you did everything an ordinary family would; eat dinner together, go on trips, attend school events. Things were quiet, a little too quiet for comfort. It never felt… right. You heard stories of parents arguing, nasty divorces, and custody battles. They tore your friends apart, made them feel a pain you could never understand. You knew how terrible it was, yet sometimes you wished you went through that to fill the silence in your home. The same monotonous, “good mornings,” and “hellos,” became sickening to hear. You told yourself to push on until after graduation where you’d escape. As the years dragged on, you weren’t so sure you could keep your sanity intact.

It was how you met Kyōtani Kentarō, a second-year from your school who was in a different class. Your friend told you of a gym nearby that was secluded at night. With a sly grin, he said he met up with students from other schools to smoke, and sometimes as a hookup spot. You wrinkled your nose at his comment and flicked his forehead. These were the people you hung out with; not so bright, but easygoing and fun. They were the ones who satisfied the need for noise, the bit of excitement in your life.

You snuck out after your parents had gone to bed. It didn’t hit until halfway through your walk that several things could happen. You were alone with nothing to defend yourself with except your phone and bare hands. Looking down at your outfit, an old dark hoodie and some sweats, you hoped it was ominous enough to ward people away. Besides, the last thing you wanted was to go home and wallow in its emptiness.

To see the lights on in the gym was a surprise. Upon closer inspection, you heard the squeaking of shoes and the cannon-like sounds of balls slamming the floor. You peeked your head through the door. The only person inside was a boy, no older than you. The first thing you noticed was his oddly dyed hair which resembled a tennis ball. The second was his piercing gaze as he turned his head and stared at you. You jumped. He looked as though he was going to charge at you. Instead, the boy huffed, walked to the other side of the gym, and picked up the ball. You spotted a familiar white and blue jacket on the ground.

“Seijoh?”

The boy turned to you again. “Yeah.” His voice was low, but powerful enough to rumble the earth.

You swallowed. “I go there, too.” This was a waste of time, you thought. You should’ve gone home, and you almost did until he spoke again.

“Never seen you before.”

The ball flew into the air with the boy tailing it. His body bent in a way you didn’t think was possible, face pinched in concentration. It hit his hand then the ground with the loudest smacks you had ever heard. It was incredible, but also scary. He picked up another ball behind him and did the same, and again, and again, until his side was empty and yours was strewn with several blue and yellow volleyballs. The more you watched, the more mesmerized you became.

“Can I stay?” You felt stupid for asking, but if he was trying to concentrate, you didn’t want to disturb him. Surprisingly, he nodded. You sank to the floor with your knees to your chest and listened to the constant thwacks and smacks all night.

You only learned his name a little while after. It was by accident. You were walking by a group of boys at school when one of them called him Mad Dog-chan, and you bit your lip to stop your laughter. Luckily, they didn’t notice. It was kind of cute the more you thought about it. It fit his appearance quite well, too. That night, you found him at the gym once again. Instead of a curt nod, you waved.

“Hey, Mad Dog-chan!”

You immediately regretted your words when he stopped bouncing the ball and flashed you a murderous look. You muttered a hurried apology and sat on the floor in your usual spot. He whacked a ball a couple of times then came over to grab his water bottle. After a few quick gulps, you expected him to get back on the court, but he stared at the spot beside you.

“It’s Kyōtani. Kyōtani Kentarō.”

Some nights, he didn’t practice. You sat in a playground nearby with soda and snacks from home. Originally, they were meant to replenish his energy when he overworked himself. Now, you were the one eating most of them, with Kyōtani nibbling on a custard bun as you wolfed down chip bag after chip bag. One thing you could say with confidence was Kyōtani was a great listener. At first, you sat in awkward silence. Then, you started rattling off all the things you did that day. It led to you talking about anything and everything, including the funny-looking dog you saw on the street last week. You hoped he didn’t think he reminded you of it.

Talking to Kyōtani was equivalent to talking to a wall. If anything, you were talking at him. He barely looked your way, and if you asked a question, he responded with a grunt or a simple, “Yeah.” Even though you wished it was two-sided, it felt good. You could finally break the silence that shrouded you for years, something you yearned to do but never had the confidence to. With Kyōtani, because of how quiet he was, you felt you could say anything without judgment. You did this for a while, rambling to him in the playground while he sat and listened.

Together, you sat on the swings with fruit sandwiches you made earlier that day. Your feet dragged against the sand and dirt as you swung back and forth. It seemed like Kyōtani enjoyed it. You noticed him eyeing your sandwich while licking his lips. You laughed and handed the rest to him. You started your daily tangent; woke up, ate a meat bun for breakfast, went to school, did homework, then came here. Somewhere along the way, you mentioned how you were home alone since your parents had lots of meetings to attend. You wished it was a little more lively. It was why you left the house every night, to find some noise in the suffocating void of it all.

You talked some more about your family, which you never did. You were too distracted to see Kyōtani’s head perk up. He stopped munching on the fruit sandwich and leaned forward, trying to look at your face. You continued to ramble, feeling your irritation slowly rise.

“Am I a bad person? I mean, they’re really nice, and I adore them. But it’s unbearable sometimes, and then I end up feeling like an asshole.”

You let out a dry laugh, ignoring the pain of the metal chains holding up the swing as they dug into your palms. You pressed your lips together in a thin line, unsure of what to say next. You chose to draw circles in the sand with the tip of your shoe.

“I understand how you feel.”

You looked at Kyōtani in surprise. You waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. The night felt a little brighter.

The last thing your “friends” expected was for you to ditch them for him. “Looks like a tennis ball,” one of them said. You chuckled since it was your exact thought when you first met him. You were relieved but also disheartened when they didn’t seem to mind too much. At least you knew where they stood.

Hanging out with Kyōtani was much different compared to your nights at the gym or the playground. You got lots of stares from the third-years who never thought he could behave like this. Some people in your class whispered about the two lone-wolves banding together. You pretended not to hear.

“You’ve been cheery lately.”

You stared at your mother, trying to process her words. They never asked about you, which you grew to appreciate. It meant not having to force out a conversation. You almost brushed it aside until she spoke again. Your chin rested in your palm as you picked the vegetables on your plate, stomach full with snacks.

“I met a new friend.”

Your mother raised her brows, impressed. “Oh? Tell me about him.”

“How do you know he’s a boy?”

“Just a hunch.”

You sighed, continuing to stir your food. “He’s quiet. A little weird, but he’s nice. I can talk to him about anything.”

“That’s good.”

Your father glanced at her, and she shot him a strange look. Don’t, it said. He backed off and ate as if nothing happened.

You managed to weave yourself with the other boys from the volleyball team. They were a scary bunch at first, most of them glaring at Kyōtani the moment he walked through the door, but they were nice to you. He had left his jacket at the playground one night, and you made a mental note to return it to him the next day. Except, like Kyōtani, you also forgot about it. When you saw the boys flood to the gym for practice, you raced home then back to school and shyly followed a group of girls to the gym who were there to gawk at the captain.

During their break, you nervously approached Kyōtani and poked his shoulder. They watched you return his jacket but didn’t expect his, “Thank you,” afterward. When you left, Oikawa bugged him to invite you back. Kyōtani shrugged. He usually ignored him at all costs. Oikawa took it as a good sign.

Hanging out with them was a lot more fun than you anticipated. They were better than your previous friends, and even though most of them didn’t like Kyōtani, they seemed to be warming up. Your favorite moment was the movie night at Oikawa’s house. The living room was packed, with little room to wiggle, but it was comfortable. That night, you laughed so hard your stomach hurt, and the tensions between you, Kyōtani, and the rest of the boys dissolved. You belonged here.

Yahaba caught him staring at you outside your classroom. You sat across from another classmate, helping her with a few assignments for her art class. You posed and let her take pictures. Some were silly, but the others captured your features perfectly. In one of them, you rested your cheek in your palm with the tip of your pencil wedged between your teeth. You looked at the camera through your lashes as your classmate continued to snap more shots.

“Cool it.” Yahaba clapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Never said you were.”

You helped your classmate pack her things. While you followed her out the door, she twirled a lock of hair around her finger and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. You bid her goodbye as her friends called her over, then turned to Kyōtani and Yahaba.

“Ready to go?”

Yahaba nodded, as did Kyōtani. You walked ahead of them, listing off that day’s menu. Behind you, Kyōtani’s eyes zeroed in on your moving form, the shift of your hips as you took each step. From an outsider’s perspective, it looked like he was honing in on a kill. Yahaba prodded his arm.

“Don’t be a pervert.”

You swore you heard a slap.

Friday after school, your parents were home from work much earlier than anticipated. A game show played on the television. They barely noticed your arrival until you called out. The TV turned off, and your mother looked over the back of the sofa with a wry smile. Your father drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. His eyes stayed glued to the empty screen.

“Welcome back,” your mother greeted. She glanced at the boxes in the kitchen, filled with old plates and cutlery you hadn’t touched in a while. You assumed they were throwing them out.

“So…” she drawled. “What do you think of Tokyo?”

“Tokyo?”

Your hands shook as you set your school bag down on the kitchen table. The boxes made more sense. You remembered your father talking about a school his friend’s son attended. Nekoma, was it? He told you how great it was there, that it’d be easy to make friends in such a populated area.

“Tokyo…” you repeated. A heavy lump formed in your throat. “It seems… nice. Why do you ask?” You couldn’t stop the waver in your voice. Your mother caught on too.

“Dad’s company moved areas. It’s a big shift, but it’s too good to lose. So-”

“We’re moving.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you were about to.”

Your head hung over the table. There was a crushing weight in your chest. Of course they wouldn’t tell you. They never did. It was too much to not expect this betrayal. If you told them how happy you were at Seijoh, maybe things would’ve been different. I could’ve prevented this. You shook your head. You couldn’t stop an entire company from moving, nor could you convince your father to find a new job in Miyagi. You had to follow them like you always did.

“If we can stay, we will, but most likely-”

“I’ll start packing.”

You grabbed your school bag and stomped to your room, vision obscured by your tears. Why now? Why did it have to be when you were starting to fit in, when you found real friends who made you happier than ever? Just when things looked like they were turning around, you were back at square one. You’d be there for a while, stuck in a new city far away from Seijoh. If you were with your old group, you wouldn’t have been this upset. But to not see them again—Yahaba, Hanamaki, even Oikawa.

You opened your phone and stared at the lock screen: a picture of you and Kentarō from the movie night at Oikawa’s. His arm was slung over your shoulder, a scowl on his face, but the peace sign he held up made it worth it. You remembered taking it and everyone gasping that Kentarō would even allow anyone to take a picture of him, let alone save it. Your heart fluttered. When did he stop being Kyōtani and become Kentarō?

Kentarō faced the empty playground. He sat in the right swing as he always did, scanning the area for any sign of you. In his hand was his attempt at a fruit sandwich, messily covered in cellophane with whipped cream oozing between the bread. A bandaid wrapped the tip of his finger where he accidentally cut himself. Damn those strawberries.

Kentarō kicked at the dirt. He waited, and waited some more, but after twenty minutes, you didn’t show. He pulled out his phone and sent you a quick text. Your absence made his skin crawl. His phone lit up with a response. Sorry, was all you said.

He couldn’t shake the heaviness as he trudged home.

The view outside the window gave you an excuse to be distracted. The voices of the boys were loud, but you chose to focus on the birds circling the courtyard. Two of them swooped down and landed on the thick branch of an old tree. They ruffled their feathers and nuzzled their beaks. You saw your old friends walk out of the main building. The one who introduced you to the gym glanced up. His eyes met yours momentarily. He went back to talking to someone you didn’t recognize and led them to the other side of the campus.

You stared out the window until Mattsun shook your shoulder. You turned and put on a faux smile. Your classwork was still strewn across your desk even though it was lunch. A few drops of chili sauce had landed on your math homework. You scowled at Hanamaki, his face stuffed with food.

“Oops.”

You wiped it off with an eye roll then stuffed it into your bag along with your other notebooks.

“What’s buggin’ ya?” Mattsun asked.

You shrugged. “Nothing. I’m ready for the day to end.” It was the last thing you wanted. There was a bit of time before you left for Tokyo, but the countdown moved fast. You ignored Mattsun’s opposing look and ate. They couldn’t know yet.

Kentarō knew there was more than what met the eye, but he bit his tongue. He was paranoid, he told himself. The guilty look on your face as the boys laughed, unaware of the shift in attitude, said otherwise. He threw his arm over the back of your chair. You relaxed, but the sad look remained. Remembering the fruit sandwich he made, Kentarō grabbed it from his bag and slid it across your desk. You raised your brows.

“What’s this?”

“I made it.”

You unwrapped the sticky mess of whipped cream and strawberry jam. Kentarō watched you take a small bite, followed by a bigger one.

“This is delicious!”

He showed you the tip of his finger. “The price I paid for it.”

Your knees knocked against his under your desk. He flinched. You pressed your finger to your lips, then to the bandaid. “Thank you. Hope it feels better.”

Your cheeks swelled as you took more bites than you could chew. Pink syrup stuck to the corner of your mouth. Cute, Kentarō thought.

“What was that?” you mumbled. A crumb lodged itself in your throat. Mattsun rushed over and slapped you so hard on the back it echoed. A handful of other students looked over. Hanamaki scolded you for gulping down your bottle of water without taking any breaths. Kentarō cheeks turned a darker shade than the strawberries when you gripped his arm for support. You didn’t ask again.

“Cute,” he whispered anyway. He knew you wouldn’t hear over Mattsun’s teasing. “You’re cute.”

Kentarō invited you to the movies. He planned on having it at home, but his parents occupied the TV, and his laptop was too small to enjoy anything. He met you at a plaza a walking distance’s away. He let you pick the movie, curious about your tastes. Action? Romcom? When he looked at his ticket, it was for the latest horror movie. Critics raved about it, calling it the best of the decade. Impressive.

The movie started a while ago. The critics were right, it was scary, a lot scarier than he expected. You enjoyed it like a comedy movie, clapping your hand over your mouth when the entire theater shrieked at the killer, including Kentarō.

“You’re a sadist,” he whispered.

“Am not, just think it’s funny.”

He shook his head. Another jumpscare happened, this time worse than before. Several people jolted in their seats and bits of popcorn flew into the air. Kentarō didn’t realize he had sank into his seat—your seat, actually—until you nudged his foot with yours.

“Scared?” Your breath was warm against his ear.

“Sorry.”

You patted his hand which clutched the armrest with a vice grip. Kentarō’s heart beat faster.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m right here.”

The movie ended and the lights switched on. People left the theater with wobbly legs and pale faces. You headed to the exit holding your empty cups and popcorn bags with Kentarō in tow. He wished the movie was longer. Not because he enjoyed it, but because the smile on your face made it worth it.

Your room was bare besides your bed and desk. Most of your stuff was packed neatly in the many cardboard boxes piled inside your now empty closet. It’d been a few weeks since that Friday, and you still hadn’t told Kentarō or any of the boys. You weren’t sure how to break the news. He noticed how clingy you became, tailing him wherever he went at school. Not that he minded. You talked less at the playground. It was him who filled the silence instead, though his daily recaps weren’t as interesting as yours.

Next week was the last with Kentarō. In your shaky hands was an envelope, the edges indented from how hard you gripped it. You took out the letter inside, read it over, then slipped it back in. You thought about sealing it for the umpteenth time that day. Before your tongue swiped against the flap, you quickly scanned over the letter once more as if the words would disappear. You’d seal it later, you told yourself.

Your over-the-top cheeriness was so evident it was painful. They asked what was up, and you said you were simply having a good day. Kentarō knew better than that. At lunch, when you were away from everyone else, he prodded your shoulder and asked what was wrong. You frowned at him, then smiled.

“Everything's fine.”

Before he could probe further, you grabbed his wrist and led him to the cafeteria.

“There’s chicken! It’s your favorite, right?”

Something slipped out of your pocket. Kentarō thought it was your school notes. He bent down to pick it up and saw it was a white envelope, unsealed. You were already gone, dragged away by his teammates. He didn’t want to pry, but curiosity got the best of him. Turning the other direction, he grabbed the note inside. His name at the top caught his eye.

Dear Kyōken-chan,

He snorted.

Sorry for not telling you this sooner. I’m still trying to process this too.

A crease formed on his forehead as he squinted. The letter was quite long, the handwriting messy. He repeated the phrases in his head over and over, but he couldn’t fully understand what they meant. He flipped it to the back and sighed when there was more. He decided to scan it this time, except a handful of words made him reread it in depth.

“Kentarō!” In your arms were several wrapped buns from the cafeteria. He tried to stuff the note into his pocket, but you already saw.

“Oh.” The buns fell to the ground. “Oh no.”

Kentarō’s face was a mix of frustration and hurt. The hand holding the letter shook, the other balled in a fist. You wanted to run, but if you moved, you swore you’d collapse.

“(Y/N),” he murmured. “What is this?”

A weary laugh escaped your lips. “Um. Can we go somewhere else?”

Not waiting for an answer, you grabbed his wrist and led him to the school’s courtyard.

“One week,” he huffed.

“One week.”

You sat beneath a large, shady tree in the farthest corner away from the main building. Kentarō rubbed his temple and sighed. He held onto your letter. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap.

“For how long?”

“Probably forever. Not literally, but it’ll feel like it.”

“So you’re graduating from Nekoma?”

You nodded. Kentarō tapped his knuckles against his cheek.

“Wished you told me sooner.”

You blinked at him wearily. “You’re not mad?”

He shook his head then turned away. You grew quiet for a moment. He took it as his chance to butt in.

“So, you like me?”

“It’s all in the letter.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

You looked away. Your hands were clammy, and the air felt ten times hotter. The word you used was stronger, much stronger than he anticipated. It made his cheeks burn and a smile threatened to pull at his lips. He wanted to hear it come to life.

“I love you, Kentarō.”

It sounded sweet, almost tooth-rotting sweet. Kentarō chewed the inside of his cheek. He liked you, he really did. He just wasn’t sure if it was the right moment to say it. Would there be a right moment? After this week, you’d be in Tokyo in another school—a rival school, to make matters worse. He wanted his words to hold weight, and in that moment, they didn’t. Not as much as he wished.

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand.”

“I do.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the bell cut you off. Kentarō hoisted himself from the ground then held his hand out. His palm was rough under yours, but his touch was gentle. Once you got to your feet, you let go, but he kept his pinky locked with yours.

Friday arrived quickly. Sadness filled the air as you said your goodbyes, thanking your classmates and teachers for the short, but pleasant year. After school, the team led you to the gym with your eyes covered. The boys’ gym was decorated with a banner and a table with food. There was even a cake, the word Seijoh iced and crossed out on top. You let out a hearty laugh before inviting the boys to dig in.

“Of course,” said Oikawa. “I paid for it.”

On one side, Mattsun smeared frosting over Hanamaki’s cheek. On the other, Oikawa tried to spoon-feed Iwaizumi only to be smacked on the head. You sat on the floor next to Kentarō and looked around with a big smile. His thumb reached out to wipe a dollop of frosting from the corner of your mouth. The phrase, “Time flies when you’re having fun,” held up its end of the bargain. When you looked outside, the sun had begun to set.

You thanked your friends, took one last photo, and managed to hold in your tears until your walk home. You promised to visit and to cheer them on at nationals, even if you were on Nekoma’s side. They laughed, waved with sad smiles, then watched you leave.

Kentarō caught up with you a third of the way home. His hand slipped into yours, a habit he recently picked up. It wouldn’t last much longer. You stopped a few houses down from yours. You didn’t want to let go, not yet.

You learned many things this year. One, life wasn’t fair. It never was. Two, people weren’t as shitty as you thought, proven in your new friendships. Three, seeing Kentarō cry made your heart ache in a way you never wanted to feel again. His head fell against your shoulder with a hard thump, tears soaking through the uniform you’d wear for the last time. You rubbed his back and pressed your lips to the top of his head.

“Stay,” he pleaded.

“I wish I could.”

“Please don’t go.”

“I have to.”

Kentarō looked up through his watery lashes. Your lips connected. Who initiated it was a mystery. His kiss was slow but fervent. You leaned in, deepening it until you swore your teeth clashed. Kentarō’s hands rested on your hips, yours on the nape of his neck. His kisses were magnetizing, drawing you closer with each movement. You broke apart for air, foreheads pressed together. He still had tears in his eyes, and so did you. You stayed like that for a bit, wrapped in each other’s arms until you knew you had to let go.

“Call me everyday, please,” he whispered.

“I promise. I swear on my life.”

You kissed him again.

“Goodbye, Kentarō. I love you.”

“Goodbye, (Y/N). I’ll be waiting.”

“So will I.”

Kentarō didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. You knew he loved you, proven by his daily text messages and calls thereafter. Even if it only lasted a couple of seconds, you never missed a day. Sometimes, you heard his teammates' voices in the background. The audio would become crackly before a new voice replaced your boyfriend’s: Mattsun, Yahaba, Oikawa, and even Iwaizumi.

Boyfriend. The fact made your stomach fill with butterflies. Kentarō was yours, and you were his.

It’d been months since you last saw him in person. You finished your second-year at Nekoma, a school that welcomed you with open arms. You met lots of people, found new friends, but the boys from Seijoh never left your mind. The picture you took hung on the wall of your new bedroom, a space you were still getting used to. Summer vacation was here, and you promised to come home to Miyagi for a week or two. On the train, you checked your phone to see how many kilometers were left. Just a few more minutes.

When it came to a halt, you burst from your seat, duffle bag in tow. You sent Kentarō a text, only to be face-to-face with him the moment the doors opened. You leapt into his arms, knocking him back a few steps. His chin rested on your shoulder as you hugged, swaying side to side.

“I missed you so much, Ken.”

“Missed you, too.”

Your fingers clasped around his, resting perfectly in the dips between his knuckles. Hopefully, he hadn’t dropped his habit. The months you were apart flew by, but they were also the longest you had ever witnessed. Seeing Kentarō for the first time in a while felt like a breath of cool, fresh air.

You tugged on his wrist, ready to head to town. He stayed put.

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

He grinned shyly at you. Kentarō brought color into your dull life, your source of noise in the thick silence. The summer wouldn’t forever, and you had another year left to endure. But as long as he was there, even kilometers away, you’d get through it together.

290 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Text

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Twelve: Family

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: THE FINAL CHAPTER! very emotional, new beginnings, bullying mention, poverty mention, abuse mention, allusions to pregnancy.

Word count: 3000>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Twelve - Epilogue [coming soon!]

“I don’t know if I could do it,” Maxwell sighed, pacing around in anxious circles. He looked different, in his denim jeans and khaki-green cable knit sweater. It made a change from the oversized powersuits he once donned. Alistair was sat at the dining room table, colouring in, and Max was having a nervous breakdown about getting his haircut. “I’ve had the blonde in for so long.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his shaggy and unstyled hair. When it wasn’t perfectly coiffed, it was wavy and glossy, and smelled distinctly like the freshest green apples. “It’ll be okay. Think of it as washing away all the terrible things that went on in the past and starting anew. Like… turning over a new leaf.”

You made a very good point. Maxwell knew he had to suck it up and just do it. It would be okay. He didn’t have to be Max Lord anymore, and he didn’t have this television persona to live up to. His main focus now was just being a father, and that’s all that mattered. All he needed to be, was himself. Maxwell Lorenzano.

“Daddy look!” Alistair smiled, waving around the piece of paper he’d spent the morning drawing on. It was stained slightly from his breakfast, and crinkled in the corners for where he’d applied slightly too much pressure when colouring, but all-in-all, it was perfect. Maxwell took the artwork and looked closely at it. Another typical family portrait of you, Alistair and Max. But this time, Maxwell was doting brown hair, and it reminded him of his younger days when he was first starting out as a businessman. “This is how you’ll look when you come home from the salon!”

“Wow Alistair, I love it!” Maxwell praised, unable to contain his grin. He held the portrait to his face and showed it off. “What do you think?” he asked you. “Do you think I’ll look good with the brown hair?”

You giggled and nodded your head, before pressing the palm of your hand flat against Maxwell’s chest and brushing your lips against his. “You’ll look so handsome, I’m sure.”

“Ew!” Alistair cried, pulling the paper from his father’s hand as you kissed him softly on the lips. The curve of Max’s nose nudged against yours and he laughed at his son’s reaction.

“Alright,” you said, pointing your finger. “You better go. Don’t want to miss your appointment.”

Maxwell nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” he announced.

The second Maxwell left the house, your stomach began to twist. You’d been living at Lord manor for a month now but truthfully, it felt like a lifetime. It felt like you had always been there. You were adjusting to your new life pretty well, but this morning sickness that you had started to get was an unwelcome experience. Amazon’s never got ill, so this was brand new to you, and you weren’t enjoying it one bit.

You rubbed your stomach and took a sip of the glass of water that you’d been nursing. Sliding down to sit next to Alistair, you watched as he finished his drawing, adding a few final perfections. Once it was done, you hung it to the refrigerator and praised him for his hard work.

“Ali, why don’t you grab your shoes and we’ll have a walk down to the Smithsonian?” you smiled, grabbing your jacket that was hanging over the kitchen door.

“Ooh! Is there a new exhibition?” He enquired curiously, hopping onto his feet and fastening his shoe laces.

“I don’t think so,” you admitted sheepishly. “I have to go meet with some friends.”

Taking the bus was a new experience for both you and Alistair. Joe, Maxwell’s driver, would normally drive Alistair around to and from places. But not today. The bus was slightly smelly and the seats were sticky, but by the looks of it, Alistair was having the time of his life. He pointed out the window, grinning, and talked to you about all the different D.C. landmarks the both of you passed as you were driven into the city centre. He might have only been six years old, but that was six years of living in the world of man. You’d only been here for a month, and so Alistair could teach you a lot.

Driving past the park, Alistair gasped, and shuffled into your body. “That’s the park where we first met,” Alistair pointed. You narrowed your eyes as you took in the sight of tall green trees and shrubbery. He was right. “Do you remember that day? You were wearing an awesome superhero costume like something out of my comic books. And you wore a tiara, and I asked if you were a princess. And you scared my bullies away, and helped me look for dad.”

“I remember.” you smiled, ruffling Alistair’s dark hair.

You remembered asking Alistair what his father looked like, and the only thing the boy could say was ‘strong, cool, and the best dad in the world’. Counting your lucky stars, you were so thankful you had found your forever family. You had come so far from that moment.

“Did you ever tell daddy… about those bullies in the park?” Alistair asked you hesitantly, his voice suddenly small and timid.

You pulled off him and looked him in the eyes. “No. Why?”

Alistair paused for a moment and glanced back out the window. “I was afraid he’d be disappointed in me.”

Your heart shattered in your chest. “Ali,” you said quietly, tears threatening to prick your eyes. “Your father could never, ever be disappointed in you. You know that, yes?”

Alistair nodded his head silently.

“He loves you so much,” you continued. “And the whole bullying thing… I think he’d understand better than anyone else.”

You remembered all the visions you had of Maxwell, even seeing him as a child at one point. You remembered him wearing rugged clothes that were too small for him and how he was picked on for his broken shoes.

“Really? You think so?” Alistair asked.

“I know so,” you confirmed, pressing a kiss into Alistair’s hair. “Those bullies will never amount to anything if they continue doing what they’re doing. But you are so much better than them. Stronger. Your power lies in your heart, and in the truth, and in love.”

Alistair smiled. “You’re a real hero, aren’t you?”

“We’re all heroes.”

————

Yourself, Maxwell and Alistair loved trips to the Smithsonian. Diana always organised special access for the three of you, to go after hours when the entire museum was empty. Alistair was admiring the fish in the aquarium, when you noticed Barbara and Diana, and waved them over.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Diana smiled.

“It was sort of an impulse thing,” you explained. “Uhm, actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

You pulled Diana to one side and left Barbara with Alistair. “Remember how you said ‘I owe you one’, since I like… got your girlfriend to renounce her wish and kinda helped you save the world by destroying the second dreamstone?” you grinned, trying to hold back a laugh.

Diana rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “What are you plotting?”

“Max has been… worried, to say the least. We’re going to have to sell Black Gold and it’s a real shame because-- he worked so hard on it. We have some money and well, I haven’t exactly ran this by him yet but I was thinking about investing what we do have into the Smithsonian. Just like what Maxwell promised to do in the first place.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Diana sighed. “The gemology department is doing just fine.”

You shook your head, your smile only growing. “No Di, that’s not what I was getting at. How would you feel about… expanding the gemology department?”

“I’m not quite sure I follow…”

“I’ve heard Barbara talk about how there’s a lack of space to facilitate all the rocks and stones the Smithsonian keeps bringing in. She has a real fear that the entire paleontology department could be shut down and replaced with something else.” You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

“That’s true…”

“So what if we use the Black Gold building as an extension for the Smithsonian, and have it specialise in all these fancy rocks and gems and stones. We could transport everything over and then we could utilize the leftover funds that Maxwell has, to keep all the palaeontologists and geologists employed. Hell, with a whole new building, we could even create more jobs for people. It would also mean that we wouldn’t have to fire Max’s old employees and-- Oh Di, I just know Max would love it. He really does have a passion for gemology. And his son, Ali… he has an interest too.”

“So I heard,” Diana rolled her eyes, but, to be frank, she liked what you were getting at. An expansion wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing… “It’s a big responsibility though, and it seems you haven’t even spoken to Maxwell about it. You would get funding from the Smithsonian as an institution, yes, but… it would still be Max’s business. Do you really think he could handle that? After what happened to his last business?”

“He’s smart,” you assured her. “And he’s a good businessman. He knows all these things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Last time he just got unlucky. But this, this could really be something great. We have the building, and the passion, and enough money to get started. Please Diana… I know you could make this happen. Please.”

Diana spent a moment pondering the possibilities before shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “Alright,” She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

You grinned and squealed excitedly, wrapping your arms around your half sister and squeezing her tight. “Thank you Di!” She laughed and rubbed your back before you pulled off her. “Oh, and Di… there’s one more thing.”

Diana tilted her head and gazed at you with fresh bewilderment. Looking around the museum to make sure no one was around to hear what you had to say, you leaned into the Amazon and whispered a confession you’d been keeping to yourself for the past month.

————

Maxwell sat in the chair and frowned upon seeing his reflection in the mirror. “What can I do for you?” asked the stylist as she smacked her lips on a piece of gum. Max wasn’t sure if he could really bring himself to do this, until he remembered your words. This was ‘turning over a new leaf’-- a new start and fresh beginnings.

“Uh, a trim please,” Maxwell requested before taking a shaky exhale. It was now or never, he just had to take the leap. “No, that’s not everything,” he sighed. “Could you perhaps take the blonde… out of my hair?” The question left his lips with an air of unsurity. Could one even do that? Take the colour out of hair?

“You want the colour stripped?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. Maxwell supposed that was one way of putting it.

“Yes, I do.” he confirmed.

The stylist processed Maxwell’s words for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “As you wish.”

As the stylist wrapped Max’s shaggy golden locks into foil, he closed his eyes. He’d come so far since the whole dreamstone debacle. His whole life had been a rollercoaster of up and down events but now, finally, things were evening out for him -- in the best way possible. He’d fallen in love and secured his family and home. The only thing he was mildly worried about, was the issue with Black Gold. But he knew that he’d somehow figure it out, especially now that he had you by his side to help him.

He’d always seen himself as an independent man. He fought hard to be as successful. He escaped his hometown, his abusive father, he ran away from poverty and was discriminated against by upper class white businessmen who told him he could never amount to anything. He proved all of them wrong. Because now, he had everything he could ever want. He didn’t need stacks of money or material possessions when he had you and Alistair. Maybe he wasn’t as independent as he once thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, he liked the company of others. He liked having you and his son around.

In his fight for wealth and success, he’d lost everything that mattered the most. But most importantly, he had lost himself. Maxwell swore that he’d never let that happen again.

As the stylist removed the silver foil from his hair, Maxwell nervously anticipated the result. His once bottle blonde hair was now a chocolate brown colour, and it reminded him distinctly of his youth. Max couldn’t help but feel like he looked younger, and he wasn’t going to complain about that.

He just hoped you liked it as much as he did.

————

“I just don’t understand why mommy is taking so long,” Alistair grumbled as he and Barbara waited outside the ladies restroom. “And why did auntie Diana have to go into the toilet with her?”

Barbara stifled a laugh. “You’re inpatient, just like your dad.”

Impatience must’ve run in the family because you were sitting on the toilet seat, tapping your food as anxiety flooded your body. You didn’t expect to be this nervous. You’d wanted a child for so long -- in fact, your whole life to be exact. But now that there was a chance of it actually happening, you were beyond terrified. Maybe it was the fact Maxwell didn’t know about your symptoms, but you knew better than to feel alone. You were never going to be alone.

“How long left?” you asked Diana, who checked her wristwatch. It was an antique from the early 1900’s, something very special and something she kept very close to her heart.

“It should be ready now.” she told you, handing you the stick you had just peed on.

“I don’t want to look.” you squirmed, covering your face with your hands.

“Wow,” Diana hummed, her jaw parting slightly when she took in the results.

“Wh-- what is it?” you asked, nervously.

“You’re pregnant.”

————

When Maxwell came home, you were shocked to say the least. His brown hair was absolutely gorgeous, and it suited him better than you’d expected. The deep shade was identical to the colour in his sparkling eyes. Jokingly, he tossed his hair and you let out a laugh.

“I was right,” you giggled, running your fingers through his locks. “So handsome.”

“I love it daddy!” Alistair cheered.

“Thanks buddy,” Maxwell grinned. “I like it too.”

Taking a deep breath, you took Max’s hand and pulled him into the living room, shutting the door behind you. It was quiet in there -- the perfect place to tell Maxwell your news. It had been a nostalgic day, and even standing in the living room reminded you of the time Max first brought you home.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you, slightly concerned. But your warm smile soon eased him. You felt the need to wrap your arms around him and envelop him into a hug. Max had taken a big step today, and you were proud of him, but now it was your moment. It was now or never.

Harnessing every ounce of confidence within you, you took his hands and looked him in the eye. “Max, I’m pregnant.”

Max’s brown eyes widened and he was completely lost for words. “I-- you-- you’re--”

“Yes.” you smiled, taking his hands and placing them on your stomach.

His shocked expression turned into an elated grin as he processed the good news. “You’re really--”

“I am.” you confirmed.

You didn’t think you’d ever seen Maxwell so happy in your life. He wrapped his arms around you and held you so tight, like he was afraid to let you go. He swore in that moment he would never leave you, or his growing family, ever again.

This was it for him.

This was the start of Maxwell Lorenzano’s new life.

————

THE END.

————

Author’s Note: “I won’t cry” she says while sobbing into her Google Docs document. Thank you all for reading I Believe In Love. It’s a story I have wanted to share with you since I saw WW84 in the theatre, and I just can’t believe it’s finally over. This fic will always have a special place in my heart. The themes and plot points mean so much to me, but not only that, I’ve had the most amazing feedback on this fic and I will honestly cherish that for the rest of my life. I poured my heart and soul into writing I Believe In Love and it honestly one of my biggest comforts. I want you all to know that an epilogue is coming and if you have any requests for these characters I have created, feel free to send them my way. I adore my Amazon Goddess!Reader and I would absolutely love to continue their story at some point in the future. If you’ve followed me on this journey over the past four months, all I can really say is thank you. I love you so so much.

————

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @ladyjenny19 @readsalot73 @softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans

I Believe In Love taglist: [in the replies!]

#maxwell lord #max lord #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ww84 #pedro pascal smut #ibil

177 notes · View notes

lizamango · 3 years ago

Text

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 3/?

A/N: Hey everyone, sorry this took so long!! This chapter was kinda hard to write, I felt like there wasn’t much that I could add but I did my best! I wanna get to Bucky as much as you all do! 😭😩

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies

Word Count: 2098

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~

Warnings: none

Chapter Summary: You and Steve run from HYDRA

Chapter 3: TOMORROW ISN’T PROMISED TO ANYBODY

I enter a shopping mall where I buy a hoodie for myself and a jacket, glasses and a hat for Rogers using cash. I pass by JD sports and see some Supra Vaders I know the Captain will just love so I go in and grab a pair, and get a pair of Nike Dunk Sky His for myself. I leave and meet him where he waits, away from any crowds and we put on our simple yet effective disguises.

“First rule of going on the run, is don’t run. Walk,” I say, recalling my operations training.

“If I run in these shoes they’re gonna fall off.”

I smirk. “Sorry, thought you’d be bigger.”

Ignoring my innuendo, Steve huffs. “They’re ridiculous, why can’t I lace them up?”

“It’s a fashion statement.” I glance at a map as we pass by. “Apple store’s upstairs.” We ride the escalator and enter the store.

Finding an empty laptop, I get to work. “The drive has a Level 6 homing program so as soon as we boot up, SHIELD will know exactly where we are.”

“How much time will we have?” he asks, surveying the area not so subtly.

“About 9 minutes from…” I insert the drive. “now.” I enter the coding commands to unlock the intel but something inverts each one… now comes in my training from the Academy of Science and Technology. “Fury was right about that ship. Somebody’s trying to hide something.” As I look through the coding script my inputs are rewritten to counter the commands. “This drive is protected by some sort of AI.”

“Like Stark’s robot voice? Can you override it?”

I raise a brow as I type away. “The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me. Slightly. I’m gonna try running a tracer. This is a program that SHIELD developed to track hostile malware, so if we can’t read the file, maybe we can find out its origin.” The map tracks a location and pinpoints it as we are approached by a store employee.

“Can I help you guys with anything?”

I react quickly and give him my best charming smile. “Oh, no. My fiancé was just helping me with some honeymoon destinations,” I giggle, placing my hands on Rogers’ shoulders.

“Right,” he adds awkwardly. “We’re gettin’ married.”

“Congratulations! Where are you guys thinkin’ about goin’?”

I go back to the laptop and the state has been pinpointed.

“New Jersey,” the Captain reads aloud.

“Huh,” the employee lets out, surprised. “I have the exact same glasses,” he says after a pause.

“Wow, you two are practically twins,” I remark as I type away.

“Yeah, I wish!” he chuckles. “Specimen. Uh, if you guys need anything… I’ve been Aaron.”

“Thank you,” Rogers rushes out. “You said 9 minutes,” he checks his watch. “Come on.”

I shush him. “Relax… I’m working.” The screen reads Wheaton, New Jersey. “Done.” I look up at him and he has a frown on his face. “You know it?”

“I used to. Let’s go.” He pulls the hard drive out of the laptop and we walk out of the store. “Standard tac team. Two behind, two across,” he turns to face forward. “two comin’ straight at us. If they make us, I’ll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro.”

As he speaks I roll my eyes, this guy was definitely not meant for the spy world. “Put your arm around me and laugh at something I said,” I say.

“What?” he sounds utterly confused.

“Do it.” I feel his arm rest on my shoulder and he gives the most awkward laugh I have ever heard come from a person. “See, Captain? No need to make such a scene.” We work our way to the escalator and I spot Rumlow on the escalator coming up. I turn to look up at Rogers. “Kiss me.”

“What?” he says again, flustered.

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

“Yes they do!” he whispers.

I put my hand to the back of his neck and push him towards me so our lips meet and I feel his hand fall on my waist. I open my eyes and pull away slowly after enough time has passed.

“You still uncomfortable?” I ask turning and walking down the escalator.

“That’s not exactly a word I would use,” he murmurs and quiets down as we get to the parking lot.

“We could get bus tickets to New Jersey, think I’ve got enough cash for the trip,” I suggest.

“Keep a look out,” he says approaching a truck as I frown but do as he says. In no time I hear the start of an engine and whirl to look at him. “Come on, we don’t have all day,” he says smugly.

I get into the passenger’s side and he starts to drive to the Garden State.

“Can’t believe Captain America can steal cars…” I say striking up a conversation.

He chuckles. “Kind of a necessary skill when you’re fighting a World War and you’re in enemy territory.”

I hum and he glances at me. “And it’s not stealing if we give it back so get your feet off the dash.”

“Bossy,” I remark but do as he says. “I like that,”

There’s a pink tint to his cheeks and his jaw clenches but he doesn’t say anything.

“So I have a question for you…” I start with a raised brow. “But you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, although no answer is an answer in itself so-“

“Get to it, L/N,” he interrupts authoritatively.

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?” I smirk.

“That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t say that!” I laugh.

“Well it kinda sounds like that’s what you’re saying.”

“I was just… wondering if you’ve had practice… since going… into the ice,” for a super secret agent, that answer lacked finesse. “It’s just, I don’t know how you did it in 1945 but guys normally move their mouths for a long kiss like that,” I shrug.

“I don’t need practice.”

“Everyone needs practice.”

“It was not my first kiss since 1945. I’m 95, not dead.”

“Oh?” I say, curiosity piqued. “Who’s been kissing Captain America then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Someone special?”

He chuckles. “It might come as a surprise to you but it’s hard to find someone with shared life experience,” he says sarcastically.

“That’s okay, you just make stuff up.”

“What, like you?” I know he doesn’t intend for it to sound mean so I shrug it off.

“Not everyone can handle the truth, can they? I wouldn’t mind a few white lies to keep something good going… and you don’t need shared life experience, right? Not really… there’s that whole opposites attract notion, after all.”

“But it’s good to have someone who understands what you’re going through, right?”

I shrug… sometimes not knowing is better. Safer. “Maybe. But in this occupation…” I sigh. “Well I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in love.”

“You’ve – you never had someone?” Looks like I threw him for a loop.

Shaking my head I turn to look out my window at the trees we pass by. “I don’t hate love or anything… it’s just dangerous to love someone like… us. Isn’t it? They’d either get hurt by people we go after or… ya know, if we don’t come back… it hurts them too.”

“But tomorrow isn’t promised to anybody,” he reasons. “So why deprive yourself of something as great as love on the off chance you die?”

“Because it’s easier.”

“For who?”

“Why the interest Rogers? You wanna fill that spot? Play a little house? Imagine we don’t have to save the world from domestic terrorists?”

He hums at my decision to not answer the question. “No, that’s not what I need right now.”

“And what do you need?”

“Just…” he sighs. “a friend.”

Of course. “Well, there’s a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers…”

“Maybe we could start with not calling each other our last names?” he offers.

I smile. “Maybe.”

We arrive at the location the tracer indicated as the sun is setting.

Camp Lehigh is on a sign but it seems to be long abandoned.

“The file came from these coordinates,” I say as I pick the lock on the chained fence.

“So did I…” Steve says looking up at the sign in nostalgia. “This camp is where I was trained.”

“Change much?”

“A little…”

I wonder around, scanning the area for any thing to indicate a power source. “This is a dead end. Zero heat signatures, zero waves. Not even radio. Whoever created the file must have used a router to throw people off.” I tuck the scanner in my back pocket and the Captain looks up at me then shifts his gaze to behind me, frowning. “What is it?”

He starts walking and I follow. “Army regulations forbid storing munitions within 500 yards of the barracks. This building’s in the wrong place.” He breaks the lock with his shield and we enter as it leads us underground.

I turn on the lights and it reveals the insignia painted on the wall. “This was SHIELD. The early days, after it evolved from the Strategic Scientific Reserve,” I say, recognizing the outdated logo.

We wander around, finding a wall of three portraits. “The three founders.” He looks at me. “What? The history is one of the things they teach at the academies. Colonel Philips, Howard Stark and Margaret Carter.”

“There are academies?”

“Three. Very tough admission.”

Rogers spots something and looks closer. “If you’re already working in a secret office…” he pushes the shelves apart. “Why do you need to hide the elevator?”

Using my SHIELD issued code breaking device I type in the code for the elevator which takes us down even further to a room of computers, monitors and servers.

“This can’t be right… this equipment is ancient how could it be used to make the files?”

There was one place that looked like it came from this century and I decide to take a risk and plug in the usb drive. The servers whir and more lights come on.

“Initiate system?” a computerized voice says.

Yes, I type. “Creepy.” As we wait for the system to boot up I smirk. “Shall we play a game?” I laugh at myself. “It’s from a movie that was really pop-“

“I know,” he interrupts. “I saw it.”

A camera moves to Rogers and a voice recites his name and year of birth. Then it turns to me and does the same.

“Is this the AI that was blocking my commands back at the mall?” I say looking closer.

“I may not be the man I was back when the Captain took me in 1945 but I am.” A photo appears on one of the other screens.

“You know this… thing?”

“Arnim Zola was a German Scientist who worked for the Red Skull.”

“He’s been dead for years,” I add, remember something of the history lessons.

“First correction, I am Swiss. Second, look around you. I have never been more alive.” The robot voice recounts his end of life story and how he uploaded his consciousness into databanks.

“How did you get here?”

“By invitation.”

“It was Operation Paperclip after World War II. SHIELD recruited German scientists with strategic value. Always thought they shoulda just locked them all up… we probably wouldn’t be in this mess if they did.”

“HYDRA would have died with the Red Skull.”

“Cut off one head… two more shall take its place,” I recite their mantra aloud.

“When history did not cooperate… history was changed.” A flurry of photos of the Winter Soldier in the back ground of significant political events appear on the screens.

“That’s impossible, SHIELD would have stopped you,” I say, moving closer.

“Accidents would happen.” News of Howard and Maria Stark’s car accident shows up next.

Rogers punches the screen as Zola provokes him.

Does that mean…? I don’t finish the thought as the mad scientist explains what the drive contains.

“What kind of algorithm? What does it do?” I ask.

The doors begin to close as Steve is too late to throw his shield. A beeping comes from my communicator, detecting something. “Steve, we got a bogey. Short range ballistic 30 seconds tops.”

“Who fired it?”

“SHIELD.” I pull out the drive and Steve pulls a grate from the floor. I jump in and he follows, putting the shield up above us as rubble rains down on us. He strains against the weight of it all and the debris settles.

💖💖

Thank you for reading!

I'll be gone until Monday again but I'll try to write on my phone!! I have literally never been so busy throughout this summer until now!

Chapter 4

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #x reader #steve rogers x platonic!reader #flirty!reader #marvel #mcu #marvel rewrite #captain america #winter soldier #catws rewrite #reader insert #fanfic #enemies to lovers #slowburn

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blockgamepirate · 4 years ago

Text

On Philza and Tommy

I’ve been wanting to talk about this for a while but I just didn’t wanna rewatch ANY exile streams because they genuinely make me so depressed and anxious but I finally forced myself to rewatch the one where Phil visits Tommy. Or I say “rewatch”, I actually never saw the whole thing before, I kept popping in and out of the stream while it was live bc of the aforementioned anxiety and shit..

Anyway, I’ve seen arguments over the topic of whether Phil is a terrible person for not helping Tommy or not. And I wanted to offer my take on it. So I’m just gonna go through the arguments:

1: “Phil is Tommy’s dad and has a duty to look after him“

I’m not gonna spend too much time on this because for one thing it’s not really canon and for another, I actually don’t think it’s the relevant issue here. Even if Phil was Tommy’s dad, Tommy has already basically been living independently for a while. And even back when Phil and Will were still talking about the family relationships being canon, Phil said as much: that he doesn’t have authority over his boys, they’re independent people.

2: “Phil doesn’t even know Tommy and it’s unfair to ask him to look after a stranger”

I legitimately have no idea where this take came from or what it’s based on. I feel like it’s so obvious that they knew each other from before Phil even joined the SMP. Tommy recognises him right away (1), they act very familiar with each other, Phil immediately attacks Dream when Dream blows up Tommy’s house (2), Tommy tries to convince Phil to join NLM but Phil is torn because he’s friends with both Techno and Tommy (3), they plan to make their houses in NLM next to each other and Phil helps Tommy build his (4), Phil specifically gives Tommy one of the three friendship emeralds he has (5)... Also OOC Phil refers to himself as basically a father figure to Tommy (6).

The reason their relationship becomes colder is because Tommy doesn’t approve of Phil staying friends with Techno. I think this is made pretty obvious too. Tommy gets upset with Phil when he sees him hanging out with Techno (7) and when Phil comes to visit him in exile, Tommy immediately acts cold towards him and accuses him of being Techno’s friend before softening a bit when Phil gives him gifts (5).

Ref:

1: I assume you’ve all seen this one it’s in Tommy’s video

2: Philza’s Twitch Archive: Nov 16 (around 03:44:30)

3: Tommyvods: Tommyinnit speaks to Philza’s wife (around 37:40)

4: Philza’s Twitch Archive: Nov 18 (around 18:55)

5: Tommyvods: Tommy Is Holding It Together in Exile with Dream (around 24:35)

6: Philza’s Twitch Archive: Jan 27 (around 01:20:30)

7: Tommyvods: Tommy & Wilbur make Tubbo a gift and he hates it (around 19:30)

3: “Phil didn’t help Tommy at all while he was in exile“

Oh shut up, watch reference video 5 again. He brought Tommy tons of useful shit, a stack of coal blocks, 8 iron blocks, diamond boots, how was he supposed to know that it would all get destroyed by Dream? When asked, he also helped Tommy with his projects at Logstedshire.

4: “Even if Phil isn’t Tommy’s father OR his friend, he still has a duty to save an abused kid”

Okay this is finally getting to the actual point.

So I wanna refer back to video number 5 up there on my references list again and I’m gonna go through that stream here:

- Ghostbur brings Phil over to meet Tommy

- Tommy is mad because Phil is friends with Techno

- Tommy gets distracted by Phil’s new clothes and the vision of Tubbo reappearing

- Phil gives Tommy a bunch of presents, including “Tommy Slippers“ (for the cold) and a friendship emerald from Techno. Tommy is excited about the slippers, somewhat apprehensive about the emerald until Phil assures him that it’s a gift from him to Tommy, not from Techno

- Tommy decides that Phil is his friend after all

- Dream shows up and acts all casual and friendly, Phil greets him politely but doesn’t interact much with Dream unless prompted to

- Tommy asks Phil and Ghostbur if they’re even real because he keeps seeing Tubbo

- Phil asks if Tommy has been drinking the sea water

- another vision of Tubbo, only Tommy and Ghostbur see him

- Ghostbur shows Phil around while Tommy tells Dream not to tell Phil about the beach party because it’s a surprise

- Tommy asks if the reason why Phil didn’t visit earlier was because there wasn’t a path and if the path made it easier for him and Phil says yes, because he didn’t actually know how to get there before

- More Tubbo hallucination shenanigans which I’m gonna cut out from now on, just assume that it keeps happening

- Phil tells Tommy not to drink the sea water, Tommy goes “I DID DRINK THE SEA WATER BECAUSE IT TOLD ME TO!“

- Tommy asks Phil (and also Fundy who showed up) to leave the VC so he can talk to Ghostbur and Dream alone (about the secret beach party plan)

- Tommy is happy about the fact that the path he made seems to be working and people are coming to visit him

- Dream notes that they aren’t even really hanging out with him so they might just be visiting Logsted, not him (which... Tommy literally asked them to leave them alone so they could plan, Dream is just blatantly trying to fuck with his head) and Tommy deflates and agrees that Dream is probably right

- Ghostbur invites Phil and Fundy to help decorate the beach (not telling them what for but it’s like super obvious that they’re planning a party) and they do

- all five of them work on the beach for a whole while and goof around until the end of the stream

So from Phil’s point of view Tommy is acting kind of cold towards him and doesn’t seem to particularly want him around (combined with the fact that he later doesn’t get an invite to the beach party that Tommy was obviously planning). Phil brought Tommy basic survival stuff and the slippers to keep him from getting cold, not knowing that all of that is going to get destroyed by Dream anyway. He seems a bit worried about the hallucinations but assumes it’s because Tommy’s been drinking sea water and tells him to stop doing that. He also notes that Tommy looks kind of rough but doesn’t push the issue.

Meanwhile Tommy is being manipulated by Dream into believing that Phil didn’t actually come to visit him, even as Phil is literally visiting him, with named gifts and everything. And he’s already doubting if Phil is even really present because he keeps seeing Tubbo who isn’t actually there so Phil could just as well be a hallucination too, or he could easily be convinced later that Phil was a hallucination.

Basically Phil sees that Tommy is having a hard time but there’s no obvious sign of anything being wrong besides him not taking very good care of himself and feeling lonely. Tommy says he hasn’t been sleeping and that he’s been drinking sea water (which is probably a joke but anyway). Him and Dream seem to be very friendly with each other, they even keep having all these secret chats that Tommy is telling Phil to leave for.

So.... assume this is your friend who you’ve recently had a bit of a falling out with. What kind of conclusions would you draw and what would you do? Honestly, yes, Tommy’s condition seems pretty worrying, but everything just points to him being lonely and depressed about being exiled, which isn’t really something Phil can easily fix other than just visit him more. But then Tommy gives really mixed signals about whether he actually wants Phil there or not (which is because he’s planning the party but Phil doesn’t know that) and then when Phil finds out about the party he doesn’t get an invite to it (because Dream stole the invites but, again, Phil doesn’t know this). So Phil just kinda has to decide whether to go there uninvited and presumably unwanted, or just vibe and wait to hear from Tommy. Meanwhile he has stuff to do with Techno who DID invite him to hang out.

Also Tommy seems to be doing better, he’s very excited about his beach, he’s excited about the fact that he’s getting more visitors (not just Phil but Fundy too) and he’s convinced that there will be more now that there’s a path. So as far as Phil is concerned, it seems like things are getting better and Tommy might end up doing okay after all, despite everything

As a sidenote also, Phil is a bit of a hermit, right? I feel like that’s fair to say about his character. He doesn’t mind hanging out with people but to him living alone in the wilderness isn’t a bad deal at all. Obviously he understands that Tommy is not like him and needs company but you can see how he might not see the situation as all that urgent. And you can argue about what Tommy’s canon age actually is but he’s been living independently and taking care of himself like an adult during his entire time on the server, this shouldn’t really be that different. Obviously the fact that he’s exiled is bad and upsetting for him but there’s nothing Phil can do about that either. He doesn’t have control over L’Manberg or Dream.

And I just wanna point out that all of this is exactly how abusive relationships work, right? Dream is deliberately distancing Tommy from everybody he knows and making him think that Dream is the only one who cares about him. And that shit can be really hard to pick up on. It might just seem like your friend is becoming kind of distant and has different friends now. And I’ll tell you, even if you DO see the signs, it’s really hard to decide when or how to intervene, or if you’re just paranoid about it.

It’s easy to say Phil should do this or that when you’re watching Tommy’s streams and KNOW what’s happening, but try to put yourself in Phil’s shoes for a second and actually think about what you’d do in a situation like this. Also please do so while assuming that Phil is a real person with his own life to live too.

You can say that he should have been more worried and more suspicious of Dream and gone to see Tommy anyway, that’s fair. But that’s a normal human mistake and also something pretty much everybody else should have done too by that logic. And Tommy was not being very receptive to help because he was being manipulated by Dream. Honestly this was probably something where Tommy needed to figure out for himself to break free. Which he did. (And speaking from a narrative perspective: that was the best possible ending to that arc. Tommy finding his own strength and willpower again, on his own.)

I’m gonna leave this here but I might reblog with more points (or make a new post). It does take ages to go through the vods, though, and I only made it up to December 9th so far.

#philza #ph1lza #philza minecraft #tommyinnit #dream smp #zablr #also yes expect something like this except way longer #for the techno essay #if i ever finish it

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my-unmanageable-mischief · 4 years ago

Text

Arranged Marriage Part 3

Part 3 of my Arranged Marraige story, (Part 1, Part 2)

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Your wedding announcement had gone about as well as could be expected. You and Draco stood with both sets of your parents as Lucius addressed the room, informing everyone of your union. You stood with your hand in Draco’s, who held onto it tightly, both for you and himself. The crowd clapped for you, and you curtsied as Draco bowed. For the next hour or so you stood together, hand and hand, as person after person came up to congratulate you on the engagement. The night, thankfully, eventually came to an end as people began to leave by apparition and floo. You and your parents were some of the last to go, and you were thankful it was finally time; you were exhausted.

“Have a wonderful rest of your break Draco,” You mother said politely, smiling stiffly.

“Thank you ma’am,” He released your hand and you felt empty without it there, so you allowed your arms to wrap themselves around you. “I will see you soon, Y/N.” You nodded your head and offered him a tentative smile.

“See you soon,” And with that, your father took your arm with an iron grip and you were gone, standing in your parlor.

“Go to bed.”

“Yes father,” You nodded, practically running up the two flights of steps to your room. You cried yourself to sleep that night, weeping for the girl you used to be. But Draco’s words still rung clearly in your head. ‘They will hunt you down and they will kill you,’ and you knew he was right. Now, all you could do was hope and pray he was true to his word- that he would protect you. You don’t know when you finally fell asleep, but when you did you dreamt wonderful dreams of Paris in the summer and silver eyes.

“You will be good.” Your father demanded and you nodded your head as you stared at your shoes on the platform 9 2/3.

“Yes sir,”

“You will stick closely to Draco. You will do as he says. You aren’t to disobey him, do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” He grabbed your chin roughly and forced you to look at him.

“Look at me when I speak.” He ordered and you fought to keep the disgust from your features. “He is to be your husband. A wonderful thing for a girl like you,” You sneered and you held in your wince. “You are not to disappoint your mother and I by ruining this opportunity.”

“Yes, father.” He gave you a curt nod and released you before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you all alone surrounded by parents who were kissing and hugging their children goodbye. You stood another moment before turning and walking in the opposite direction, towards the train. You boarded, finding an empty compartment to hide away in, taking out a book that you knew you wouldn’t read. A few moments later the door to the compartment opened and someone stepped inside.

“I’ve been looking for you,” You looked up surprised.

“Draco,”

“Hello Y/N.” He gave you a mild smile, sitting across from you. You merely stared at him, and he raised a hand to his face, “Have I got something?” You chuckled, shutting your book and setting it aside.

“No, no. Nothing.” You assured and he let his hand fall into his lap. You lapsed into silence for a moment before you added, “You don’t have to sit with me, if you don’t want to, I’m sure you’d have more fun with your mates.”

“They’re hardly mates, really.” He admitted, “Just people I spend my free time with.”

“That’s a mate, Draco.” He tilted his head, smirking.

“They’re not pleasant company.” You smirked back.

“Don’t I know it.” You both chuckled at that, but then his face sombered.

“I wanted to sit with you.” You felt your cheeks flush slightly and you played with a lock of your hair, turning to rest your back against the window, putting your feet up on the seat.

“I’m no fun either, I assure you.”

“Maybe not, but at least you’re pleasant to look at.” He teased and you blushed deeper.

“Is that all I’m good for?” You asked, and he shook his head immediately.

“Surely not, Y/N,”

“I was teasing, but if you’re offering compliments I’m all ears.”

“I wouldn’t want your head to get too big now, we won’t be able to get you off the train.”

“That would be a sin, I’d be cursed to ride the rails for the rest of my life.” He chuckled again and you smiled, watching him. He looked younger when he laughed. Handsomer.

“Truly a sin,” He agreed. “What were you reading?” He asked, and you attempted to shield the book from him.

“Nothing interesting, really.” He reached over and snagged the book from your hands.

“Wuthering Heights?”

“It’s a muggle book,” You admitted slowly, gauging his reaction. He made a face and tossed the book back down onto the bench you were sitting on.

“Why would you want to read a muggle book?” He asked, curiously. You shrugged, grabbing the book and shoving it into your bag.

“It’s good, it’s well written, muggle isn’t a synonym for bad.”

“It isn’t?” He smirked and you frowned at him.

“No, Draco, it isn’t.” He merely shrugged, leaning back into his seat, spreading his legs out across the compartment.

“Whatever you say, dear.” You spent the rest of the train ride mostly in silence, Draco staring out of the window at the passing countryside, and you alternating between daydreaming and watching him. You were nearly there when Draco spoke your name, causing you to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I have to warn you,” He stated, and you frowned. “I’ll be.. Terribly busy this year.” He stated, and you nodded, “I won’t be able to spend much time with you I’m afraid.” Again you nodded.

“That’s alright.”

“What I’m doing it’s for you. For us. Our future. I’m making sure everything will be okay.” His words were vague, and you wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but you didn’t think he’d tell you even if you asked; so you didn’t.

“I understand, Draco.”

“Good. Thank you,”

“Of course.” The train came to a stop, and he stood first, offering you his hand. You took it, smiling softly. You expected him to let go of your hand as soon as you hit the corridor, but he didn’t, and you didn’t mind it. He kept your hand in his until you reached Hogwarts, until you hit the great hall before finally releasing.

“I will see you soon,” He assured.

“We have potions together,” You reminded him and he nodded, smiling.

“We can sit together, if you’d like.”

“As long as you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“Then I’d like that.” Draco nodded his head again, but he did not smile.

“Good. Then I will speak to you then.” With that he turned and made his way to the Slytherin table as you went to Ravenclaw, sitting with a few of your dorm mates.

“Why were you holding hands with Draco Malfoy?” One of the girls asked, glaring and you felt yourself flush.

“We’re engaged.” You answered simply.

“Excuse me?” One of the girls asked, laughing incredulously.

“Our parents.. Arranged our marriage. So we’re engaged.” They all shared a look you weren't a part of before going back to eating. You ate in silence mostly, none of them speaking a word to you, and you not trying to strike up a conversion with them either, lost in your own thoughts. When breakfast came the next morning they didn’t sit with you, and just like that- you were all on your own.

Classes were difficult, the workload was almost unbearable, even for you. You spent most of your time in class, studying, or thinking about how you should be studying. You saw Draco in potions where you now sat together, and Charms, where he’d taken to sitting beside you as well. It was a welcomed dose of human interaction since none of your dormmates were speaking to you anymore, not that you were ever terribly close to any of them anyway. But it still stung.

“Are you alright?” He asked you one class as you worked on your potion, stirring it clockwise twice then counterclockwise once, and you looked over surprised.

“Fine, just thinking.” You answered.

“I don’t mean right now.” He nudged you, taking the spoon to give you a break. “I mean in general. You seem sad lately.” You considered the question and shrugged.

“I’m alright. Tired mostly. Restless.”

“Why restless?” He asked, eyes on the brew between you.

“Just bored. All I do is study and go to class.”

“Don’t you hang out with your mates?”

“I don’t...” You trailed off, and he glanced up at you, “I don’t really have any. Not right now.” He frowned.

“Not right now?”

“Well, apparently being engaged to a Slyherin doesn’t really make me friend material anymore.” You answered softly, and his frown deepened.

“They stopped being friends with you because of me?” You shrugged.

“I suppose. But that just means they were never really friends to begin with.”

“I’m sorry.” He continued to frown at you, only looking away when your potion bubbled sinisterly, he went back to stirring.

“Don’t be, I’m alright.”

“Everyone needs friends.”

“I have you, don’t I?” He smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t spend time with you. I’m kinda a rotten fiance aren’t I?”

“Oh just the worst.” You teased, “In your defense, you don’t have much practice.” He chuckled slightly, and you watched him carefully.

“I will attempt to be better. Perhaps we can study together sometime.” He offered up and you nodded your head, taking the spoon back again.

“Alright, sounds good to me.”

Every Thursday night you met Draco in the library to study. He was brilliant at potions, much better than you, and he was helping you pull Os on almost every assignment with ease, rather than the hours of work it would have taken you to do it on your own. You would study for a bit, get your assignment done, and then you would simply talk to each other in hushed voices, tucked away at a table in the back, as far from everyone else as possible.

You told Draco about your book you were reading, and he had the decency to pretend to be interested, only teasing you sometimes about loving muggle books.

“Read them now while you can, my father would die before he let you bring one into the house.” He said one Thursday evening and you frowned.

“I’ll be living with you and your parents?” You asked, and he leaned back in his chair, tilting it onto two legs.

“I assumed.”

“We won’t, I don’t know, move out?” He shrugged.

“I guess eventually.” The idea of living in the large Malfoy manor with just Draco and his parents scared you, and he coull tell you were scared from one look on your face. He was eerily good at reading your moods, either that, or you were very bad at hiding them.

“Eventually?” You prodded and he sat forward again, his chair legs thudding as they hit the floor.

“After we graduate, I’m sure.”

“Where will we live?”

“I don’t know, Y/N.” He admitted, running a hand through his platinum locks. “I really don’t. I wish I could give you something more, but no one has told me anything.”

“How can they simply not tell us?” You asked, leaning your elbows on the table, placing your face in your hands, “It’s our lives afterall, don’t we get a say.” He laughed bitterly.

“No.” He was right. It wasn’t that simple, no matter how much you wished it was. You felt his hand on yours and you looked at him with a sad smile. “I’m sorry,” He murmured and you shrugged.

“It isn’t your fault.” He knew it wasn’t, but that didn’t stop the guilt from laying heavily on his chest. He squeezed your hand tightly, hesitating a moment before leaning over to kiss your cheek. When he pulled back his pale skin was slightly tinted and you laughed.

“What was that for?”

“I don’t know, you looked like you needed it.”

“Thank you Draco.” You gripped tightly to his hand, “For everything.”

You were sitting in your common room reading in one of the big chairs in the corner when your dormmates past, whispering to themselves. They stopped beside you and you looked up at them, placing a finger on the line you were on.

“Yes?”

“How’s your fiance,” One asked, placing emphasis on the last word, you frowned deeply.

“Fine, why?”

“I heard he and Harry Potter got into a row, he’s in the hospital wing.” She said smugly. You were standing in an instant.

“What?”

“Mmhm.”

“That’s- you rotten bitch, that’s not how you tell someone that!” You cried out, shoving past them as they all giggled. You had half a mind to turn around and deck one of them, but your feet carried you away, practically running to the door. Once in the dark corridor you broke into afull run in the direction of the hospital wing, not bothering to try and sneak, even if it was after hours. You burst into the room, looking around wildly at the empty beds, you were about to go to the first closed curtain you saw, to rip it open. One of them had to be hiding Draco.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” Madam Pomfrey called out, “What do you think you are doing!” Your hand was on the curtain of the bed closest to you and you stopped, eyes wild with worry.

“Where is Draco!?” You asked, if the duel was serious enough to warrant him being in the hospital wing, you needed to see him. Now.

“It’s past curfew, Ms. Y/L/N.” You didn’t have time for this.

“I am to be his wife, you are to tell me where he is!”

“Y/N!” A weak voice, that didn’t sound like your soon to be husband’s called and you rushed towards the bed, past Pomfrey, who allowed you to go. You got to the bed the voice came from and took a deep breath before pulling back the curtain. What you saw horrified you, there were only a few moments in your life you remember fear cutting you so deeply as it did now.

“Draco,” You breathed, taking a step forward before stopping, like even being near him might harm him, “What? What happened?”

“Potter used a dark, powerful curse on him, but he will be alright darling, he needs to heal.” She tried to put a hand on your shoulder, to lead you away but you jerked from her grip.

“No,” You whispered, not caring about consequences right now, “He needs me.” You looked at Draco, and he looked... so unlike himself, laying there in that bed. He was even paler then usual, and frail. Like if you blew too hard he’d crumble. His eyes were red and slightly swollen, but he was smirking. And that’s how you knew he’d be okay.

“Alright,” Pomfrey eventually conceded. “If you’re caught, I had no knowledge of you being here, you snuck in.”

“Yes ma’am..” You nodded your head, not looking away from Draco. She walked away from you both, pulling the curtain back as she did, yet you still didn’t move. Draco lifted a hand from the bed and beckoned you towards him, and you went, taking his hand when you reached him. “What happened?” You went to sit in the chair beside the bed but Draco pulled you closer, trying to make you sit on the side of his bed, but you were afraid, “Draco-”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” He promised, “I’m not in pain, Pomfrey has me on something good,” He assured and you winced slightly. That meant he had been in great pain. But you allowed him to guide you down so you were sitting beside him on the small hospital bed. “Merlin, Y/N. I thought you were going to rip Pomfrey's head off.” He tried to joke, but you didn’t really feel in a laughing mood.

“Draco what happened?” You repeated your question, gripping his hand in both of yours, he squeezed back weakly.

“We got into it, he was spying on me, I hexed him, he came back with... I don’t know what it was, something I never saw before. Sliced me open like a Christmas ham,” He chuckled and you frowned deeply at him.

“It’s not funny, you could have died.”

“But I didn’t,” He assured, “And I’m sure perfect little Potter is getting his, so I’m more than fine.” You wanted to cry just looking at him, but you managed to blink the tears away. “Are you crying?”

“No,” You sniffled lamely and Draco chuckled, pulling you closer by your hand. You allowed him to lead you into a lying position, so you were beside him in the bed, your head on his shoulder.

“I’m alright,” He promised, “They said I’ll be good as new in a few days,” You laid your head on his shoulder, his hand still entwined with yours.

“Don’t scare me like that again?”

“Why not? I liked seeing you all fired up, ready to kill to see me,” You smirked, turning your head to kiss a jumper covered shoulder.

“I’m sure you did,” You murmured and he chuckled, turning his head to kiss your forehead. You looked up at him, your eyes locking. Draco brought his free hand up to your face, rubbing his thumb over your cheek gently before cupping your cheek. He wanted to kiss you, more than anything. He’d wanted to kiss you for weeks now, he had never moved so slow with a girl in his life but he found himself wanting to respect you and your space and your wants. But Merlin, he wanted you to want this. His eyes dropped down to your lips briefly before he looked back into your eyes, and you smirked slightly.

“Gonna kiss me, Draco, or are you gonna stare at me all night.” He chuckled, smirking back.

“I think I shall alternate between the two, actually.” And with that you were both leaning in, lips meeting gently in the middle. His kiss was much more tender than you ever expected it to be, frankly you were surprised he was capable of even being this tender. He pulled back and looked at you for another long moment, his thumb continuing to stroke your cheek before he kissed your forehead again, guiding your head to his shoulder. “Staying the night, I hope?”

“Oh, you’re not getting rid of me that easily, love.” You assured, and Draco felt something in his chest tug at your words in a way he had never felt before. You were the closest he got to joy, he supposed it made sense you would be the closest he felt to love too. Draco closed his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to overtake him, so long as you were there beside him. You waited for the man to fall asleep, for his breath to even out before you looked at him again. He was so young, so peaceful when he was sleeping. You found yourself wishing he could look like that when he was awake. The closest he ever got were in the few rare moments you spent alone, and you couldn’t help but smiling at that. You made him happy. He made you happy. Maybe this would work.

#Harry Potter #draco Malfoy #draco Malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader

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attemptinghaikyuu · 4 years ago

Text

Fake Dating: Akaashi✨

A/n: I’m a simple person, with simple needs, and what I need is Akaashi to be real and tell me I’m doing a good job...

G/n reader

Akaashi Keiji

You met through your friend Bokuto

He had introduced you two at a volleyball game at the start of the school year

Akaashi was quiet, but you and Bokuto managed to pull him into a conversation, even getting a couple laughs out of him, which is rare

Don’t worry, you cherish the smiles and laughter you get from him, you can tell he doesn’t do it too often

You also found out he was in the same year as you

The next day when you got lost on your way to class, he helped out

It was friendship from there baby✨

Oh, you’re not feeling well??? Akaashi is pulling you to the side, asking if everything’s alright

You don’t wanna bother anyone about a problem?? Akaashi is their, he can just tell when something’s up and will be helping if he can

If it’s making you uncomfortable and talking about it isn’t what you want???? That’s fine too, Akaashi is there comforting you with just his presence

When Akaashi is nervous (and you can tell by the way he plays with his fingers) you do everything in your power to get him feeling better

Telling jokes, giving advice, hugging him, some space and an ear to listen?? You are trying it ALL

Sometimes y’all will compete to see who can get Bokuto out of his emo moods first

And not gonna lie, it can get intense

No messing around, it’s almost an all out war

Sure, it was fun and games at first, but somewhere in that chill competition, things became do or die

Oh, your friend is sad cause he didn’t remember to bring a water bottle?

The squeak of shoes, as you and Akaashi sprint, to get your own bottles can be heard by everyone in the gym

Everyone: *sigh* just another day at pra-

Y/n and Akaashi: *wrestling each other to the floor* victory will be mINE!!!

The only problem is, Bokuto ends up figuring out what the two of you are doing, and he gets so flattered and excited over his two best friends working to make him feel better, that he’s instantly up and smiling

Now you have no idea who wins

When you try to ask, he says you did it together and you have a group hug

Bokuto, thank you..

You still wanna know who won though >:/

The volleyball team ends up voting to choose who the winner is (it was you this time!)

The team loves you!! Half of them have a crush on you

You’re too busy being a dumbass, doing dumbass things to notice though😭

Other teams that Fukurodani go up against, will see you and sometimes they’ll try to ask for you’re number

Usually, you’re around someone on the team, so people don’t mess with you too much

There too intimidated

However, you couldn’t be around them all the time

You really needed to go the bathroom at the game that had just ended, and you had some time before you could meet up with your friends

You’re actually pretty quick, since you wanna talk to Akaashi about a math problem you’re stuck on

You already told him you needed his help with it, he’d probably be looking for you soon

Finishing drying your hands, you run out of the restroom to search for him, only to be stopped by a player on the losing teams side

He pins you to the wall and dang... he’s tall and you can’t move away

He’s asking for something

It’s incredibly hard to pay attention to what

You only picked out a few words, those being: number, cutie, and my house

ItS pAnIcK tImE🥳🎉

You consider punching him

Before you can try, someone’s pushing the guy away and grabbing your hand, gently tugging you away from him

“Sorry, but I’m afraid my S/o and I need to go and celebrate a certain victory, against the team we just beat.”

The guy is spluttering as you two walk away

You feel a squeeze to your hand, and when you look up at your friend, you can’t help the smile that finds it’s way to your face

“Thanks Akaashi, or should I say, my heroic boyfriend?” You teased, pausing when you hear an unholy screech

“WHAT???” Bokuto looks between you two from behind. “ARE MY BEST FRIENDS DATING WITHOUT TELLING ME?!”

“Wait, Bokuto that’s n-

He’s not letting you finish that sentence😔

It’s pretty funny until he brings up a classmate who you do not like, they’re always rude and don’t stop when you ask them to leave you alone

Well, apparently they’ll be disappointed to know your taken

Akaashi can feel you stiffen beside him while Bokuto talks about them

He knows they’re not the nicest, so he’s also surprised that they like you

He makes a split second decision to get the person to leave you alone

“Bokuto-san, we were actually about to tell you, we planned our first date for after the volleyball game and we wanted it to be a surprise.”

Your shocked squeak is covered up in Bokuto’s shouted “Heys!” of understanding

Once outside, away from Bokuto, you ask Akaashi what’s going on

“Your classmate, the one Bokuto was talking about, if they think we’re dating, then chances are they’ll leave you alone.” He says it like it’s obvious, and it does, honestly make sense

You nod your head slowly, questioning one last thing, “Why not tell Bokuto? Shouldn’t he know... I mean, he’ll tell everyone we’re dating..”

“Bokuto wears all his feelings on his sleeve, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone we’re dating like it’s true, if he knows we aren’t,” he turns to you. “Don’t worry, we can explain everything once no one’s bothering you.”

And ya know what, y’all kinda knew what you were signing up for

It was obvious Bokuto would tell people about your newfound relationship!!

You just didn’t know the whole school would know by the next day

Most everyone is in tears over the two of you dating

People are mourning the fact that they now have zero chances of dating either of you

It’s a bit awkward to adjust at first

But Akaashi makes it easy to get into little habits

Hand holding becomes your favorite, you fidget with each other’s hands a lot too

It’s really comforting having him by your side

He makes this dating stuff simple, it’s a team effort that you’re never afraid of working on

You both fit together so well, that you forget it was to get your jerk of a classmate, to leave you alone

That’s why, after six months, you’ve completely forgotten it was fake

I mean, who wouldn’t?? Akaashi literally makes it impossible for it to feel fake

He’s doing cheesy couple things constantly

And you do them right back

Little notes, that have cute reminders to drink water and take breaks or getting each other’s favorite snacks on stressful days, is a regular

Simple gestures from Akaashi, seem to mean a lot more to you now

Because you definitely like him and don’t consider what you have as fake🥺💖

So, after the teams victory at nationals, high on adrenaline, you and Akaashi, sprint to each other, and kiss

It’s super dramatic

Bokuto is screaming over how happy he is for his friends, the team is silently wishing they could be in the middle of that kiss, and Akaashi’s pulling away with a chuckle and question

“I hope this means you feel the same way that I do?” He pauses to interlace your fingers. “Because I really like you.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi x gender neutral reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #fluff #fake dating #this ones kinda on the harem side #but Akaashi’s s/o would definitely have a harem #like him :3 #twinning

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mouisorange · 4 years ago

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☰ yandere alphabet

〔Pesci〕

〔 Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? 〕

Pesci is a nervous wreck when it comes to actually interacting with his darling. He would love to hold his darling and generally give them affection, but he tends to freak out when darling is upset: so as long as they’re unwilling, he’s not going to be physically giving any affection. Though, he will try and buy them things he knows they like. This is both to show his affection and to offer peace offerings in hopes that darling might like him better.

〔 Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? 〕

While Pesci is timid, and would rather comfort his darling or otherwise deal with it in a less than direct way, he’s more than willing to do what he has to in order to keep his darling with him. Even more so if his darling directly asks him to do something. He seems to have low self-esteem and would want to gain approval from his darling, similarly to how he acts around Prosciutto at times. It’s likely that he’d be willing to get messier than he normally would if he thought it would please darling in some way.

〔 Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? 〕

Pesci wouldn’t mock his darling, though he can’t help but get a bit frustrated after a while. He tries to give them space and gain their trust again, but it’s a bit difficult to just leave them all alone. Both because he doesn’t enjoy it when they’re sad (and being alone means they have to be at least a little sad, right??) and because he got so used to seeing them that he craves being near them. Photos and stuff he ‘borrowed’ a while back, don’t really give him the same feelings after interacting with the real deal. He’ll bring them food they like, overall everything he does feels like he’s trying to convince a stray to come into his house.

〔 Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? 〕

He’ll force them to eat, and generally try to make them take care of themselves if he feels like they seriously need it. Though he feels extremely guilty, so darling becoming upset with him over him trying to make them do anything might be enough to make him leave them alone for a bit. Pesci will eventually suck it up after some venting to Prosciutto and do what he thinks he needs to do. He also really wants to cuddle and hold them so Pesci will likely sleep in the same bed as them even if they really don’t want him to.

〔 Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? 〕

Pesci is pretty vulnerable! He won’t open up until he thinks darling has accepted him or their situation enough to not be upset by him. He’s vulnerable enough to be manipulated by darling if they know how to, since he adores them greatly and wants them to love him as much as he loves them. He isn’t stupid though, if darling tries to manipulate him and he figures it out, they won’t be able to do it again without him questioning their behavior.

〔 Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? 〕

He’d kinda understand, though at the same time he’s upset that they’re upset and even more so because they’re fighting him. Pesci assumed (though he hoped that maybe they’d be happy, despite knowing better) that they’d give him the cold shoulder, but they’re upset enough to fight him? It’ll make him question if he should’ve just tried harder to make darling fall for him the normal way. He’ll regret it somewhat but he knows he has to suck it up and keep going, they’ll leave him if he lets them go back to how it used to be!

〔 Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? 〕

Pesci definitely does not view anything about this as a game. He wants a relationship with his darling, and doesn’t enjoy watching them try to escape him. He doesn’t really understand why they’d want to get away him, he gets that he’s not the best looking or anything but he doesn’t treat them badly! Watching his darling try so hard to run from him hurts and makes him pretty upset overall.

〔 Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? 〕

It’s honestly a tie between him kidnapping them and his seemingly random meltdowns! He did plan out his whole kidnapping thing, but his nerves ended up getting in the way of doing it right. Pesci really did want to do it without upsetting his darling (ironic since they’ll be upset anyways) but... yknow mistakes happen is all. As for his meltdowns, it’s really the only time darling might get hurt with him freaking out and all. A mixture of all his guilt and anxiety around his darling just eventually snaps into a puddle of crying and breaking things. After a meltdown is really the only time he’ll forcefully give his darling affection, later on in the relationship he might even try and get them to return the affection via guilt-tripping.

〔 Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? 〕

Pesci’s let romance movies influence his idea of love just a bit, he really wants them to fall for him as much as he’s fallen for them! He enjoys the idea of sweeping them off their feet more than he’d be willing to ever admit to anyone (though he may indirectly tell Prosciutto when asking for advice). Overall, he’d like a typical quiet, domestic life with darling where he gets to come home to them and relax after work.

〔 Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? 〕

He absolutely gets jealous, as he’s already insecure and knows that there are a lot better guys than him. He might lash out at the “rival” (or friend, or honestly even people off the street every now and again) but it depends on just how friendly or handsy they’re getting with darling. If darling’s reciprocating the ‘affection’ at all he’s going to have a nervous breakdown.

〔 Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? 〕

Pesci’s pretty nervous! And by ‘pretty’ I mean he’ll be stuttering over his words, especially during the first couple interactions with darling. Try to avoid giving him affection for a while, he might legitimately blow a fuse if darling tries to hold his hand or compliment him. Honestly, eye-contact or even the knowledge that they’re looking at him for the first time makes his heart go haywire. Don’t worry though, he’ll get over it as the conversations get longer! Especially if Prosciutto sees him acting like that and says anything about it.

〔 Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? 〕

He’ll try and be friendly and get them to like him when actually interacting with them, though he’s a pretty intense stalker at times! Pesci will eventually start learning more about darling’s hobbies and interests in hopes that it’ll bring them closer. Darling will probably end up approaching him first without knowing it because of his nerves, unless Prosciutto pushes Pesci to do something. He’ll try and be the kind of person that he thinks darling would want in an attempt to go about it in a ‘sweet’ or ‘romantic’ way, but will probably end up kidnapping them out of fear that someone better than him will take them away.

〔 Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? 〕

Not necessarily! Sure, darling doesn’t need to know that he’s a gangster, but he still acts nervous around them like he does around his team (though to a higher extent). He’ll definitely try to play up whatever traits he thinks darling likes about him, but otherwise? Really the only thing he doesn’t bare on his sleeve is the fact that he’s a part of Passione’s hitman team, for obvious reasons.

〔 Naughty: How would they punish their darling? 〕

While he really doesn’t like to punish and would do a lot to avoid having to, most of his punishments involve isolation; maybe removing some of their senses or movement. For example, tying them up, blind-folding them, and putting them in a closet for a day or something. Pesci will probably end up asking Prosciutto what he should do and attempting whatever he says. Though if it involves physically hurting darling then he’s either going to be really light with it or attempt it, only to backpedal the second darling yelps.

〔 Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? 〕

He’ll probably end up taking most of them away by accident, as he runs based on reaction (for the most part) when it comes to his darling. Pesci does want darling to like him, so if they’re begging to get out of their room or for him to get them out of any ties, then he’ll probably end up giving in a bit (as long as it’s not a punishment). Not completely though, logic like “oh if they want out, then it’s too tight right? I’ll loosen it a bit!” or bringing them into another part of the house still tied up. He’ll be way more willing to do whatever darling wants if he thinks they’ve accepted the relationship. Though, he’ll try to be cautious but honestly he’s kinda delusional and might get swept away by emotions if darling is giving him the affection he’s so desperate for.

〔 Patience: How patient are they with their darling? 〕

He’s very patient! Or he tries to be at the very least. If they’re actively trying to piss him off in some way, he’ll probably end up snapping a lot faster than he would if he thought they were just frustrated or upset. Pesci tries to put himself in their shoes often in order to better understand darling so that he doesn’t mess anything up. He’d rather be slow and steady than blow up over something he might not understand (since he knows he’s not as smart as others, like Prosciutto for example) and then have to go back to fix that before moving forward.

〔 Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? 〕

Pesci would not be able to handle his darling’s death, and would need a lot of pushing from his team in order to even remotely try and pick himself back up. He would struggle to cope. As for if they escaped, he would not stop looking for them and trying to get them back unless he had definite proof that they were dead. Otherwise? Darling might get away from him for a while, but he’ll eventually find them.

〔 Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? 〕

While he would never let his darling go (unless Prosciutto or another team member forced him to, though I can’t really see many situations where that would be necessary + he wouldn’t really let go mentally), Pesci would feel very guilty about abducting them. Darling could probably guilt-trip him into doing a few things honestly.

〔 Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? 〕

Darling is probably someone kind, or made him feel understood in some way. Pesci is usually pushed off to the side by most people, so when darling does something to make him feel important or the like, he’s hooked and wants to get to know them better/get closer to them.

〔 Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? 〕

He doesn’t like it at all! It makes Pesci feel even worse about kidnapping them and he’ll try to do/get them things that he thinks will make them feel better. He’ll generally do what they want him to do as long as they aren’t leaving or doing something dangerous. Though if they’re firm on him staying away, he will but he’ll also sneak in when they’re asleep to get his dose of darling.

〔 Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? 〕

He’s much more easily manipulated than the classic yandere! Pesci is a bit delusional and thinks that he’ll be able to have a normal relationship with darling one day (even after kidnapping them), so he’s willing to bend over backwards for darling.

〔 Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? 〕

His meek nature as well as his guilt! As mentioned in previous sections, Pesci feels guilty over how upset his darling and will do pretty much anything short of letting them leave in hopes that darling will return his feelings. Darling could pretty easily trick Pesci into thinking they’ve accepted the relationship, wait until his guard is down. They won’t be able to do the same thing twice though.

〔 Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? 〕

Not intentionally, or at least, not very much. The worst he’d ever really physically hurt them is during a meltdown and them getting caught in him throwing things or destroying furniture. He’d try and make up for it later as he didn’t intentionally try to harm them. One of the only other times Pesci would really physically hurt them is if he goes to Prosciutto for advice, and attempt to slap or backhand them only to backpedal if he actually does it. They’ll probably end up with bruising or something after an escape attempt, but he prefers mental or indirect punishments.

〔 Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? 〕

Pesci doesn’t necessarily worship darling but he holds them in very high regard and thinks their options/thoughts are important. Darling heavily influences him and his thoughts, similarly to how Pesci respects Prosciutto and values his options. As explained earlier, Pesci is willing to go very far to win darling over, especially if he thinks darling already likes him (even just as a friend: friends become lovers all the time, right?). He’s patient and determined, especially with Prosciutto encouraging him.

〔 Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? 〕

It depends on how friendly they are to other people compared to himself, or if he thinks he’s ‘losing’. Generally it’ll be anywhere from one month to about six months.

〔 Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? 〕

Not intentionally! He probably wouldn’t accidentally do it either honestly, as he’s not overly violent and is attentive to darling’s needs. He’s delusional and thinks that darling will eventually love him back (or at least hopes so). If he knew about the possibility of darling breaking, he would try to avoid it.

﹝☼﹞

#Yandere jjba #yandere pesci #yandere la squadra #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo x reader #yandere x reader #yandere alphabet #yandere pesci x reader #la squadra di esecuzione

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years ago

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Dimension Jumping Pt. 5

Comforting a grieving hobbit and time get everyone ready to go out!

Via the genius idea from katzrfsoa / Kat88

There's been mention of the reader not wanting to take the groups out, for fear of the public's reaction... so what about a cosplay convention? it would give the Reader the perfect excuse to allow them out, and they would wear their original clothes

----

This morning has been uneventful for the most part.

Breakfast passed by without issue and now everyone is off doing their own things.

You looked outside and took a peek in the guest room, but you still can't find him.

Sam, Merry, and Pippin are playing a board game you showed them; Legolas is doing his meditation sleep thing; Boromir and Aragorn are discussing something; and Gimli is stacking bread on Legolas' leg to see how long it takes until he notices.

Frodo, however, is missing at the moment.

Right as you were considering telling the others of his disappearance, however, you heard some shuffling from your hall closet.

You open the door carefully and take peer inside, not wanting to startle the small hobbit, and at first you don't see him.

There's more shuffling and you hear a quiet sniff, followed by soft sobs, and you then realize he's hiding behind the shelf.

The door makes a soft clicking sound when you close it, and right away the quiet cries cease. You didn't want to alert him with the door, you wanted to do it yourself, but it's too late now, so you just go with it.

"Frodo?" You call in a gentle voice, staying by the door incase he wants you to go.

"Y-Yes?' He calls back, not moving from his spot.

His voice is thick with emotion, and the sadness in his tone makes your heart ache painfully. And when you walk closer and see him huddled up behind the shelf, your heart breaks a little for him.

He hastily rids his cheeks of any evidence of his sorrows, though the puffiness around his eyes and constant sniffles don't much help his cause, and looks at you with a false smile.

"Frodo, why are you crying?" You ask with furrowed eyebrows, kneeling down in front of him so you may look at him at eye level (mostly).

"It's nothing." He tells you quickly, looking away from your compassionate face with the same sad frown on his lips.

When you don't move to get up or leave, his gaze slides back over to you and he realizes that you're not going to leave unless he straight up tells you to go away. This makes him sigh, but truthfully, he doesn't want you to go away. Not really. For having company in a time of sorrow always mends suffering.

"I... did not have a proper time to mourn Gandalf. I've been so caught up in the oddity that is this place that I almost forgot my sorrows altogether, but then this morning is all... came rushing back." He explains with a surprisingly even voice.

While he speaks you cross your legs and listen along intently, your hands folded neatly in your lap. When he finishes, you reach forward and place your hand atop his with a gentle touch, "I didn't know him, but I can tell he was very dear to you. Honestly, I can't offer much advice, but I can tell you that keeping it all bottled up inside is not a good idea."

He looks at you with that sad face when you speak, and it prompts you to continue, "Also, I know everyone else can be pretty overwhelming or they just don't understand, and I want you to know that I'm always here to listen if you're feeling down, okay?"

Your words draw a small smile from the grieving hobbit and it elicits a similar grin from you.

"Thank you, Y/N. I... actually do feel a little better."

"I'm glad."

---

After your discussion with Frodo you rejoin everyone back out in the main room and let him recollect himself, going right onto your laptop to get some work done.

You're idly scrolling through a scholarly article you need to research when you see it.

An advertisement for some sort of comic book, cosplay, convention... thing in the area (no wonder you've been seeing so many oddly dressed people recently).

At first you almost scroll past it, but then you get hit with the brick of knowledge and a lightbulb goes off in your head.

"Yes!" You scream, successfully scaring everyone in the room and Penny who is sitting with you for once. "Ohh, my god. This is freaking perfect!" You exclaim, clicking on the link to get some more information.

Your eyes practically soak up everything on the information page, and, once you've skimmed through all of it, you look up with a bright smile on your face.

Literally all of them are looking at you like you've grown two heads, but you only clap your hands together a few times. "Guys, I just had a huge brain moment!"

The joke goes over their heads as per usual, but you don't let that deter you.

"Huge brain moment?" Pippin asks in confusion, looking at his cousin like he thinks he heard it wrong or something.

"Yes! I've figured out a way to take everyone out!"

That certainly gets their attention.

"You have?" Sam asks exuberantly, dropping his game piece so he can turn towards you and pay perfect attention.

"I have, yes," you start, continuing once you're 100% sure they're all paying attention, "So here's the thing, I knew that I could take out you tall boi's without issue besides having to find a hat for Legolas here, and I could explain that Gimli here has dwarfism," you pause at that and realize it may be offensive to him, but you continue once more, "but I also knew that there's no way I can explain away the hobbits, and then I found this gem."

You turn the computer so it faces all of them, but they only look more confused.

"There's a convention thing in town for the next week, and it's the perfect opportunity for me to bring everyone out! We just have to dress up the hobbits a bit and pretend that they're children."

At your explanation you receive multiple pleased smiles, and it serves to make you feel even better about your idea. "And you can all wear your normal clothes, too. And if someone asks who you are... I'll figure out a game or something you guys can use as an alias."

"Are you sure that will work?" Aragorn asks with furrowed eyebrows, sitting up from his spot in your arm chair.

"Um, like, maybe 98%." You confirm with a shrug, "It's better than 88% though."

He doesn't seem like he disagrees with you, so you look back at your laptop again and start to look for ideas to make them more believable as humans.

---

3 hours of research later, and you've successfully compiled a completely fool proof plan to smuggle this merry band of bizarre boys out of your house.

What you've decided is that you'll put some makeup over Legolas' pointy ears to make them look more fake since the concept of elves is not lost in this world. Boromir and Aragorn can go as themselves, and you'll put some makeup on the hobbits much like you will Legolas (they'll be children elves since there are no hobbits in your world) and tell everyone who asks how they look so good that you're a professional makeup artist.

Gimli, fortunately for you, was the easiest to come up with something for next to the other two humans of this group. You can just tell people he has dwarfism and that's why he chose to go as a dwarf character.

Everything is in order except for what you're going to do, though you suppose you should match their theme and be some sort of renaissance, maiden, lady, thing. You'll figure it out, though you do need to make sure it's convincing like theirs.

You decided to, instead of putting it off, go ahead and start working on finding a costume to match theirs.

A couple of searches later and you come across a really pretty dress that looks to fit their style, and when you show it to them they give you the thumbs up, so you order it with express shipping so it should arrive tomorrow.

It's a lovely flowy medieval dress *just look up flowy medieval dress and go to images, there are some good examples there*, and you feel excited just looking at it. Of course, there's no guarantee that it'll be the best quality, but it's got great reviews and you certainly paid a hefty sum for it.

After that's done with you head to your bathroom to see what makeup you've got, and you find that you don't really have any theatrical/special effects makeup. You're going to need skin colored wax makeup, powders, and contour stuff.

You're no makeup artist, obviously, but luckily for you, your goal is to make them look less realistic, so it should be easy enough.

It's surprisingly easy to figure out what you need to make them as convincing as possible, and pretty soon you've got a nice little list going on that outlines each thing you need.

Since you don't want to delay anymore, you head out of your bathroom and grab your bag while putting on your shoes, "Legolas, I'm leaving now if you wanna come with." You suggest since he stated his desire to join you in the one of the last chapters (:o).

When you call his name he looks over at you quickly, smiling a bit at your offer, "Yes, but you said I need a hat."

"Oh yeah! I have one, just gimme a sec." You tell him, walking over to a drawer.

When you open said drawer, you find a grey beanie with ease and toss it over to him, "Here ya go. Make sure it covers your ears... and uh, tuck your hair up into it too if you don't mind."

He does as you say with ease and, surprisingly, he looks just as good with shorter hair as he does longer hair.

It sticks kinda awkwardly at first, so you waltz on over and gesture for him to crouch down so you don't have to reach up.

Once again he does as you request and leans down so you may fix it.

You adjust it a bit to make sure it won't fall first, and then you smooth it back a bit so it'll also look stylish. And once you're done you take a step back and smile at him brightly.

"All done! Let's go!"

---

He seemed rather fascinated in the way your car works first and foremost, but once you got him to look out his window instead of watching you, his excitement quickly turned into awe.

When you both get to the ULTA store he follows you without hesitation and asks some hushed questions about things he sees, like the light up signs, other passing cars, stoplights, and some other things.

You, of course, answer each question happily and lead him inside, holding the door open for him while he enters and looks around the brightly lit up makeup store.

Right away you head towards the general direction of the nose and scar wax (it's multi purpose, don't judge me), forgetting to make sure that Legolas follows you.

When it does occur to you, however, that the blond elf didn't come after you, you panic.

You turn in a circle and only stop when you see him standing with some ladies who practically have hearts in their eyes.

Unconsciously you breathe a sigh of relief and head over with the wax in your little basket, immediately reaching up to wrap your arm around his, "I got the first thing on my list, come on."

The girls stop their giggles and flirting as soon as you show up and look genuinely surprised.

You give them a smile and nod in acknowledgement, not wanting to make them feel bad over something so silly before turning with your arm still around his own and walking him over to look at some contour stuff and other things.

They make some snide comments when you turn your back about you being a 'clingy girlfriend' and 'not pretty enough to be with a model like that', but you only ignore it and relish in the fact that you didn't make them feel bad over something as silly as a cute guy in a makeup store.

"Why are those women talking about you like that?" He asks in a whisper, leaning down so only you will hear his question.

You look up at him with a bit or surprise since you didn't expect him to pick up on that, before you smile, "They're attracted to you, and they think that I was being selfish with taking you away from their advances."

"Selfish? Advances?" He looks confused, but you only smile and turn back to the display case.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it, Leggy my boy."

"Leggy?" He asks slowly, looking at you in confusion.

"Leggy." You confirm with a nod with a distracted hum.

It isn't much later that you have everything you need, and so you go to the checkout and buy everything.

"Going to the convention?" The girl at the counter asks with a smile.

You smile back and nod your head, glancing up at Legolas before looking back at her, "That obvious?"

"No of course not, just the items in your basket always fly off the shelves around convention time." She replies with a giggle, ringing up all your items.

"Well, that's fair." You muse, putting your card into the reader to pay for it.

Once everything is in order she hands you your receipt and adds, "Maybe I'll see you there."

"Maybe!" You chirp back happily, liking the nice conversation going on here.

"You and your boyfriend have a good day now!"

You elect to ignore that.

---

On the way home you pretend to not notice the black car following yours and make small talk with the elf, answering some more of his questions and speaking idly on different things.

"There are so many odd, interesting things here..." He comments after a while, glancing out the back window. "Are you aware that, that car has been following us for the past 10 minutes?"

You nod and hum as an answer, "Mmhm, it's just Brian. He's probably trying to figure out who you are."

The blond knits his eyebrows together and glances back to look at the car again, "Should I do something about it?"

"The only thing you can do is ignore it. He went from lowercase 's' stalker to uppercase 's' since you guys arrived, and it'll only get worse if you intervene." You mumble, trying not to look in the rearview mirror at him. "It's fine."

"You don't seem to think it's fine." He challenges in the same even tone, turning in his seat towards you.

Instead of answering his question you look at him while you stop at a light and grumble, "I told you to put your seatbelt on."

"It's uncomfortable."

"I don't care."

"I will be fine."

"Not if we get into a crash, you won't."

The two of you stare each other down before he slowly reaches up and buckles his belt, never breaking eye-contact.

"Good boy." You coo in a way-too sweet voice.

"Anyways, I know we said as much before, but you needn't worry about that man while we're here." He continues despite your obvious subject change.

"I know." Your reply is softer and less defensive this time, for you really do appreciate it, "Thank you."

He looks surprised at your sudden gratitude, and his expression shows as much "For what?"

"For being you. For looking out for me. All of you."

This time he smiles and says no more.

---

When you both get back to your house you immediately put everything in your bathroom and get onto your laptop to view some techniques on theatrical and movie makeup, Pippin and Merry on either side of you while they view through the pictures and videos with you.

"That one looks interesting." Merry pipes up suddenly, pointing at a person to wolf makeup transformation.

"Yep, and way past anything I can do."

This pattern of going through pictures and viewing clips goes on for a little while until they two hobbits depart to have lunch, meanwhile you continue on so that tomorrow will be a success.

You're both excited and nervous at the same time, wanting to see how it'll all turn out but also dreading it incase something goes wrong.

You know the most important thing is to have a positive mindset about it, but it's kinda hard sometimes during your more anxious moments.

Also, there's the issue of Brian possibly following all of you...

Nah, that'll be a problem to think on for tomorrow.

"What time will we leave tomorrow?" Aragorn asks from his usual spot on the rocking chair, Penny still nestled in his lap as per usual.

"Around the morning. I bought the tickets already so we won't have to stand in line for too long... Hopefully."

"Thank you for working so hard so that we may see more of your world." He comments suddenly, stroking his hand down her fluffy back.

You tilt your head to the side and smile a bit, "You don't have to thank me."

"No, I do. You have seen to our every need and we no doubt pose to be a huge burden. Thank you, really."

His words make you flush slightly, and you look away shyly.

You've grown to care about all of them, so of course you would do anything to keep them comfortable at this point. More than anything you're just glad they see how much you're trying to make things easy on them. It feels nice being recognized for your efforts.

Plus, the added protection from Brian is pretty sweet.

"Anything for you guys."

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