#Maybe then i wouldn't be suffering like this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

obeymeluv · 2 days ago

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Kalim's family tradition of seeing a fortune-teller before introducing the partner leaves him with concerns when she says something comforting and cryptic about your future with him.

There was a tradition in the Al-Asim family where a fortune-teller must be consulted prior to bringing a partner to see the family for the first time. It was a highly regarded practice meant to see the compatibility of the couple and how it might impact the family. Rumor had it that an Al-Asim had been saved long, long ago by a fortune-teller and promised them a life without want in return. Kalim sat nervously, swallowing thickly as the swathed woman lit her incense and rearranged her trinkets.

Jamil stood guard outside the tent, as did several other men loyal to the family. Kalim knew he was safe; he was more scared of what she may have to say. Divinatory magic was her family's specialty and she had a fantastic record. Thus far she'd correctly predicted the gender of six of his siblings, which suitors would come for his older sister, and the night his father would've been successfully poisoned (if not for her dream and intervention).

He couldn't imagine a life without you! What could she possibly have to say?

Sure, you weren't far along in your relationship but Kalim knew in his heart that he didn't want anyone else. For him, the sun rose and set in your eyes. The relationship was pretty serious, given Jamil's threats to strangle him if he talked about you anymore than he already talked to you.

"Be not afraid, little Al-Asim," she smiled, talking in their shared tongue, "I see a very happy life for you."

Kalim jumped, snapping to alertness. He didn't realize he'd zoned out staring at the smoke winding up from the incense sticks. She hummed and swirled her hands around the giant crystal ball in front of her, inhaling the smoke and blowing it over the sphere. Some of his siblings warned him that she would describe the partner--with scary accuracy; she could even tell him what toe his brother-in-law had a freckle on!--before giving the vision.

She correctly guessed the color of your skin and quoted his favorite way to describe your eyes. Kalim physically shivered; apologizing hastily soon after. His cheeks were a fierce pink that made her chuckle. "For all your privilege, the greatest one is to have them as your spouse. They will nurture your independence as much as you desire to coddle them for all of their suffering. You will become a great leader and they will guide your hand. The foundation of your dynasty is made with mud and tears but it will support something beautiful and prosperous."

That was it? It was over? She dismissed him sweetly and he stumbled out, dazed and deep in thought.

Why would there be tears? Happy tears, he hoped! You and Kalim had never fought, much less raised your voices at each other! He didn't know his brows were knit with concern until Jamil placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Kalim blew out a heavy sigh, feeling himself relax at the touch he didn't know he needed.

"Good?" Jamil's brow quirked with curiosity. Per the tradition, Kalim could not share the fortune-teller's words with anyone. It had to unfold as she described. She would tell his parents and things would go from there. Worry gnawed at him, twisting his guts into knots as he realized not even you could know.

"Yeah," Kalim mumbled. That was a bit slow for Jamil's liking. Kalim wouldn't look at him directly and was twisting the biggest earring in his left ear. He was nervous about something, Jamil observed.

"Then you have a week to enjoy. Be happy." Jamil patted him on the back as they made their way to the main house.

As expected, his parents were thrilled with the news. His mother was conflicted with the idea of her little one blossoming into a man, of course, but could not deny she was intrigued by a 'beautiful and prosperous dynasty'. How many grandkids was that, exactly? Maybe she could pull the fortune-teller aside and ask her in private! Kalim had aspirations of a big family, like his father, so her imagination was running wild.

Kalim's heart squeezed at his father's large, comforting hand. The half-hug pressing him to the reassuring belly was also nice. "Don't fret over the tears, my son. Tears are like rain in the desert, they help things grow."

"No relationship is perfect, anyways!" his sister waves her hand in the air, "everyone screams and cries at some point!"

"For different reasons!" his brother cackled, dodging two of her slaps. She swung a silk pillow with gold threads and teardrop rubies hanging from the corners. He yelped when the rubies smacked him, complaining to their mother.

"It will be fine!" his mother swooped down to pinch his cheeks. Her perfume swirled around him and Kalim couldn't help but break out into a smile. "You've sunshine in your soul, my love, and people will always want the light. Don't worry!"

"Are they staying for the whole break?" his sister asked, voice curious and sweet as she maintained eye contact with her cowering brother, pillow poised for another blow.

"That's the plan!" Kalim smiled.

His sister gave a squeal that made them both cringe. "I have so many ideas! I have to make some calls!"

The plan was for Kalim to spend the night with you in Ramshackle, give you a quick run-through of his siblings, and bring you to his home in the Scalding Sands in the morning. You were the first person he'd ever brought home on break and it was a very big deal.

He steps through the mirror with kisses from his mother and siblings still tingling on his skin. Kalim loves his family dearly but he's happy all of the pressure, worry, and excitement is on the other side of the mirror. The magic crackles over the surface, dies, and becomes a still pool. It's not until Jamil nudges him gently with one of the bags that Kalim realizes he was lost in his own reflection.

His own thoughts.

Most of the groceries and luxuries are restocks for his and Jamil's room in Scarabia but there's a few things for you. Kalim always liked to bring gifts over when he visited even though you've told him a million times that he was the gift. Jamil's threatening the boundaries of his role as a watchful servant to house Al-Asim when he tells Kalim to go straight to you and that he'll come to Ramshackle in an hour. It's a dangerous game they play, Kalim constantly overanalyzing the technicalities of what he can get away with to give Jamil some semblance of freedom and him, his independence, but as long as neither one of them say anything it works.

The white-haired boy chuckles to himself as he realizes he has, in fact, become more independent since knowing you. Sure NRC is protected with charms and enchantments but that still counts, right? He knocks on your door and you answer in your comfy clothes. Kalim feels his heart flutter and melt; you may have holes in the hem of your shirt and your pants are slightly too big because they're from a thrift shop but it doesn't take away from how beautiful you are.

In this moment he thinks his mother is wrong. You must be the sun and he, a sunflower, because he's always looking in your direction. There is nowhere he wants to be but with you and he is ever-reaching. You're chastising him about bringing gifts--again!--but he doesn't hear it. The second you arms circle around him, warm and soft, all of his senses fall away except for the one that registers your touch.

It's better than any massage he's ever gotten. It's as if his soul is a precious infant and you are the ultimate protection. The best comfort.

You manage to get him out of the doorway and Kalim laughs as you become an awkward tangle of limbs. He separates just long enough to set up the treats and show you the gifts--a silk pillow, a body scrub, a hair mask, and another set of sleepwear--before fishing out the little cards he'd made.

It's a huge stack! He sees your wide eyes and giggles as he pulls you against him, rubbing your arm comfortingly. "I have a lot of siblings, remember?"

"There's over thirty!"

"I have a lot of siblings," he repeats, cheeks heating up.

Jamil uses one of the three spare keys you made and finds you curled together, Kalim snoring quietly in the crook of your neck. The floorboard creaks under his foot and your eyes snap open. He sees the hand in Kalim's hair flinch but he doesn't move. Kalim's handmade family cards are all over the small coffee table, as are some half-eaten snacks. "Get ready," he whispers to you, "it's going to be an experience."

Jamil's words left you not knowing what to expect but you certainly couldn't predict the towering, ornate palace or the sheer number of white-haired people ready to drown you in the impressive entryway. Hands pulled you from all directions, hugs coming two at a time. You tried to turn your head at the feel of someone touching you hair but couldn't. Someone grabbed your face and you found yourself staring into Mrs. Al-Asim's eyes. "My grandchildren will be lucky to have such eyes!" she teased.

Kalim grabs you now, laughing nervously as he weaves through the siblings like it's nothing. You take a relieved breath and look back on the crowd. They've settled but you can definitely see where Kalim gets his excited puppy look. He introduces you to his mother and father first, breaking his siblings up into two groups: those older than him and those younger than him. One of his siblings is a literal toddler and it makes you wonder how old Mrs. Al-Asim is because she's as youthful and exuberant as Kalim!

Flawless, really. Good genes!

Said toddler has been watching everyone come up and hug you or shake your hand. He waddles up to you and plops himself down on your foot, hugging your leg. One of the older girls scoops him up as he giggles, another yanking you away and down a series of massive halls. Kalim tries to take you back but one of the girls ushering you along calls something out in their language and the kids swarm him.

"That's a dirty trick and you know it!" Kalim yells.

The room you spill into is just as massive as any other part of the manor. You take in the gold thread on the carpet, the expensive-looking vases, and nearly faint at a walk-in closet that looks big enough to fit the first floor of Ramshackle in it.

You're beginning to understand what Jamil said about the whole thing being 'an experience'. It was just luxury upon luxury with the Al-Asims! Some of the girls were holding up pre-made outfits, telling you not to be discouraged because you would have a custom outfit within a few hours. Others were holding rolls of uncut fabrics under your chin at the advice of a...color analyst? Someone is measuring your waist and it makes you flinch.

You can't give it much thought after one of the sisters ask if you're a 'jewelry person' and they start bickering about what would suit you. You can't even begin to imagine how much what they're holding costs! It feels like you're in there for hours but you come out with a casual outfit, one for swimming, one for shopping, one for the dinner party, and a different style of sleepwear you'd never seen before. There's more to come, they promise, but this is decent enough to start. Stunned by the opulence and generosity, they drag you back through the halls to show you off.

Your heart is fit to burst with how welcoming the Al-Asims are. It makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Kalim looks like he wants to cry, too. His mother and father assure your safety, thank you for being so precious to Kalim, and welcome you into their culture with the wish that you embrace it. The kids promise to teach you all kinds of words and it makes you laugh.

The outfit is colorful and you're glad it covers you because you'd probably burn to a crisp otherwise. You walk over to Kalim, trying not to stumble in the shoes as you get used to the feel of things breezing and jingling around you. He catches you and his eyes start to sparkle with tears again. "Did I step on your toe?" you joke.

"You look so pretty, hayati!" he sniffles like he can stop the tears from slipping down his face. Kalim is always daydreaming of your future together but something about the realness of you being in his arms, wearing traditional Scalding Sand garb, hits his tender heart hard.

"Come on now, stop crying. We can't do anything fun if you're crying!" you dab at his eyes with a flowy sleeve and he leans into you.

"That's one of our words!" one of the kids points at Kalim. "Do you know what that means?"

"My life," you reply, taking Kalim in your arms like you have a million times before. Every time he's ever said it, actually.

One of his brothers walks by and teases him about teaching you sweet nothings. Kalim glares at him from your shoulder, pouting. He points at his brother and yells something. The kids take off after him. "I told them he's 'it' for the next round of tag!" Kalim beams, satisfied with himself.

Your first day in the Scalding Sands is an innocent one of meeting family, playing games, and having a delicious dinner that isn't unlike one of the parties at Scarabia. Kalim is by your side at every opportunity. Some of his younger siblings try to feed you and teach your how to eat the food, ignoring Kalim as he politely explains you're big enough to feed yourself. He's trying to keep them from choking you with food but can't deny that you look adorable with your cheeks packed like a squirrel.

The party winds down and you fall into your usual habit of picking up everything. Jamil hisses at you to stop but you ignore him. Kalim saves the moment by swooping in to collect things, too. It's clear the help is stunned and trying not to look too surprised in front of his parents. "Ah, I see," his mother laughs over her glass, "your sanadi."

Kalim whines, guiding you hurriedly to the kitchen, clicking his tongue at you before you take a wrong turn. He removes his bracelets and gives you gloves to wear, putting on a pair of his own soon after. It's not until you're wrist deep and washing the dishes that you ask what the new word meant.

"'Sanadi' means backbone." he blushes, suddenly very interested in the custom plates, "it's a term of endearment in the Scalding Sands."

"I like it," you smile at him.

Your first night in the massive palace is odd. You know you're in one of the most protected places in the world but it's new and the shadows and sounds make you nervous. Trying to focus on the obscenely soft pillows and comfy sheets help a little. You're almost asleep when a noise outside the window draws your attention. A little wary, you open the window.

"Want a preview before the girls run you all over the Sands tomorrow?" Kalim offers you his hand, carpet fluttering patiently underneath him.

"Sure. Couldn't sleep anyways," you shrug. He secures your hands, body over yours to protect you from the windchill as he points out details in the palace before telling carpet how to get past the garden and gates without being seen. Clearly he's snuck out enough for people to look skyward now and then.

Kalim's only fifteen minutes into describing the bazaar when he realizes you're asleep. He gives a breathy laugh, tugging gently on one of carpet's tassels to make him head back to the palace. Carpet glides smoothly into the still-open window of the guest room, rolling you back into the sheets as he flops onto a nearby chair. Kalim locks the window back and tiptoes to the bed, snuggling in beside you.

He doesn't know how long you slept, but it was long enough for people to look for him and realize he's not in his own bed. The door to your room bursts open, a chorus of squeaky 'Sanadi!'s pouring in with little feet. Kalim shrieks like he's being drowned in cold water when something much bigger jumps on the bed and it lurches your bodies, the tiny ones collapsing all over you with giggles. Crisp smacks echo in the room, Kalim tangled in the sheets and fighting for his life as his sister yells. You try to cover Kalim but the kids dive on you and press into you, seeking protection from the shoe's rage.

Kalim falls out of the sheets like he's just escaped a cocoon and can't use his legs. Blind with sleep, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled, he's piloted by the primordial fear of being a younger sibling at the mercy of an older one. He makes it around the door and down the hall.

You're allowed to dress yourself but the sisters insist on fussing and fawning over you, giving you this or taking away that before summoning bodyguards to escort you to...wherever they want, really.

It's hard for you to process that they can just do whatever they want at the drop of the hat. They don't have to panic crunch numbers or scour every possible inch of Ramshackle for a thaumark and you're stunned. You don't know why you are, but you are. The girls are sweet but they have no concept of reservations and they don't recognize their own entitlement--you think--because people are just as happy to cater to them as they are to ask.

You're taken to a very expensive, insanely exclusive spa that you've heard Vil mention before. No appointment needed, of course. Staff just seemed to materialize and rooms were just conveniently there. The girls are established here and the employees are familiar with their skin and favorites but you're a new face.

Your stomach clenches nervously and you wonder if they're judging you. Do they see a blank check or someone who looks out of place in the clothes you're wearing?

When they're given permission to charge the account but 'be reasonable' you wonder what reasonable is to an Al-Asim. You can't help the smile that cracks your lips when you think of Kalim and his many parades and parties. He thinks those are reasonable and they're quite extravagant.

'Reasonable' is a skin analysis and so many treatments--special steam, cleanser, toners, mask packs, funny lights, weird tools--in the comfiest bed-like table that you're not even sure you were awake for half of it. You're amazed by what you see in the mirror. You don't see someone who's fought overblots or eaten something questionable to keep from starving.

Dazed and ethereal, you're escorted to the next experience. You and the girls spend the day in the spa, this time in several soaking pools before finishing in a mud pack-body wrap combo. You're introduced to several native drinks and get some sort of special infusion. Whatever it is, the girls swear by it.

You're surprised Kalim recognizes you when you get back to the Al-Asim home. He sweeps you up and gives a surprised peep about how you smell and how soft you are. The embrace is short-lived because you're being dragged away to change for dinner. He makes up for lost time by sitting next to you and sneaking into your room again.

It's cute and a little harder than the night before. Some of his siblings stayed up to make sure he didn't just walk in. When you have that many siblings, you always have more than one plan. You and Kalim have to shush each other at times but you're happy to tell him about your day.

He's just as happy to listen. His heart relaxes when he realizes you had a mud bath and you're doing your best not to ugly cry because you feel clean and pampered and had a day where you didn't have to worry about anything.

That means everything came true and it's smooth sailing, right? Everything she said came true?

He kisses your tears away and lets the emotions dwindle into exhaustion, holding you close.

The rest of the week is a balance of playing with Kalim's siblings, finding fun things to do around the main house--or having them brought to the main house--and going out into public with a crazy amount of guards. The third day was a personal parade of animals not unlike a standard Scarabia party; Kalim and his siblings translated how to hold, care for, and feed them. You got to ride some of them!

You spent the fourth day taking in the local sights with Kalim, Jamil, and his sister. It was nice to get away from the splurging whirlwind of the Al-Asim girls and just be casual in the browsing. For all his wealth, Kalim blended seamlessly with the interesting hole-in-the-wall spots others seemed oblivious to. It was an interesting side of him.

Kalim promised the last day would be for you and him and he was keeping his word. You took off on carpet at first light, watching life trickle into the bazaar. He'd begged the kitchen staff for several baskets and you were enjoying a simple morning of people-watching and sharing food. When you were finished eating, he found someone who looked like they could use the rest of the food. Carpet tucked safely under his arm, Kalim took you to a shop you'd passed over yesterday.

"I want to get matching rings," he smiled.

Back in the world you came from, custom jewelry would take a week or more. In Twisted Wonderland you guessed magic made the process near-instantaneous. Or maybe they just had multiple hands on it since it was a request from an Al-Asim. You wouldn't be surprised if they had a file for the Al-Asims given how much jewelry they wore.

The ring was beautiful. It was a thin, elegant, curving design that looked like a blooming flower with a ruby in the middle. It reminded you of Kalim's eyes. Kalim's ring shared the curving, elegant design, but his flower hadn't bloomed; the petals were flush against the jewel and almost crown-like. He'd just paid when the door to the shop burst open.

Neither of you were surprised. You half-expected it to be Jamil. Or one of his siblings.

You were both wrong. Very wrong.

You had no idea who these people were or what they wanted. Had they been watching you since yesterday? Earlier in the week? They rushed you and you thanked the Seven that they didn't immediately draw their magi-pens. It gave you the time to sock one of them.

There was a brief moment of stillness when they saw his head snap back. Four strangers realized they didn't know you or what you were capable of. Before they realized you didn't have a magi-pen, you kicked one as hard as you could in the knee. He buckled, sinking enough for you to punch him hard in the stomach.

You felt one of Kalim's arms wrap around your middle, yanking you back to his chest. He thrust his magi-pen forward and you held your breath. Kalim was far more valuable without a scratch or burn.

And they assumed you were valuable to Kalim. They were right. Kalim was so focused on anticipating a spell, on getting his protections ready, that he didn't anticipate a physical attack. He started sliding across the shop floor when they got the idea to rip you away.

It took three of them but Kalim wasn't done yet. He wasn't beaten. They escape in an uncoordinated stumble and Kalim's hot on their heels, taking to the skies and firing off spells from carpet. They fire back but between trying to keep you from running and aiming up at a moving target, he has the advantage.

Until they run through the bazaar, of course. There's so many people now that he struggles to keep his eyes on you. He almost loses you once or twice but he can hear you yelling. You call his name and he'll always hear it.

Kalim's not surprised they managed to sneak out of the bazaar into somewhere semi-abandoned. The bazaar wasn't always a bazaar; it used to be a small community. Pockets of old homes remained. People sold them for ample compensation but vendors found them off the beaten path and not as lucrative so they sat, unused.

A spell caught him by surprise, carpet veering sharply and almost throwing him off. Kalim patted his little singed tassel, peeking over the fringe to fire off a spell of his own. Carpet wove through the air, doing his best to keep Kalim safe but let him see through broken windows and open entryways. His goal was to confuse them, have all the attention on him and give you time to escape.

Kalim saw you bolt out of the home and gave carpet a tug. You were halfway to carpet, kicking up sand, when the men charged out. The jewel in his pen was starting to darken but Kalim knew he wasn't at his limit. Something in him snapped; he saw red when those men dove atop you like rabid dogs.

"Respite in the scalding sands, a neverending party. Dance! Sing! Oasis Maker!"

The sky turned dark and ominous in an instant, a cool shadow stretching over the sand. The rumble echoed Kalim's brewing rage. With a hair-raising crack, the rain poured out in a fierce deluge. It was icy, heavy, and stung like a whip. Carpet sagged under the weight of the water; Kalim guided him down carefully, squinting against the downpour to find you.

Why weren't the firing off spells? Were their clothes too heavy? Did it hurt too much to move? Could they not see? Kalim's suspicions were high and he could only assume that any grass magic wasn't strong enough to cut the water and fire was pointless.

He took advantage of the situation and fired off a few smaller water spells. They were boosted by Oasis Maker. It almost felt wrong, knocking them around like toys, but he didn't care. Oasis Maker dwindled to a drizzle, then stopped, when he saw you trying to crawl through the mud.

He couldn't help but laugh as the fortune-teller's words finally made sense. It was weird to have his face half-numb from icy rain and still be able to feel his tears. It took effort, but he managed to pull you out of the mud with a wet squelch! The two of you sat, stunned and freezing, just looking at each other for a moment.

He wiped water and mud off of you. You immediately grabbed his pen and started checking his hands. "You feel okay? You're not going to overblot?!"

"I'm fine, sanadi. As long as you're fine, I'm fine." Kalim breathed, resting his lips against your forehead.

He composes himself and looked at how utterly stuck the men are in the mud. Some of them probably need to be observed for drowning; they probably inhaled enough water to feel like they were drowning. Serves them right, Kalim thinks as his nose turns up in a sneer. Carpet does as Kalim wishes, carrying him to the nearest guard to report the event.

Kalim picks mud out of your ring and cleans it with his drenched shirt as carpet takes you back to the main house. There's no way in hell anyone will let you bathe together but he can dream.

He can also dream that he won't get his ear pulled off. Kalim was surprised to feel his father's warm, firm hand on his ear after he stepped onto Al-Asim property. Usually it was his mother's. Hissing through his teeth, Kalim risks a look back to see you getting swarmed and dragged by his sisters and mother. There's multiple people shouting in a language you're beginning to understand but you don't need to know anything to know you're in trouble.

"Welcome to the family," Jamil mumbles under his breath as he takes instruction from Mrs. Al-Asim to fetch Kalim some dry clothes.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #Kalim x reader #Kalim Al-Asim x reader

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writeriguess · 2 days ago

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Okay, first of all, I ADORE your writing! You just GET the characters, and I seriously look up to you. You even made me wanna write Bakugo again, and I thought I was past that phase. Anyway, is it weird to request a fanfic of a fanfic? Because I cannot write smut to save my life. No pressure at all, but I wrote Bakugo with an unhinged, lovestruck reader who’s always trying to win him over while he pretends not to care (but totally does). They end up together, and I’d love a fic where reader tries to surprise him with something sexy in her usual chaotic way. He’s surprised, laughs, but ultimately goes along with it because, well, that’s why he loves her. Some fluffy, comedic smut, if you’re up for it. But if not, no worries at all. Just wanted to shoot my shot!

Laced with Chaos

Katsuki Bakugo has been dealing with your bullshit for a long time.

It started with the relentless, borderline concerning pursuit. Grand declarations of love in public places. Handmade gifts that ranged from endearing to downright dangerous. A once-a-week habit of sneaking into his agency, just to throw him finger guns and whisper "call me, Dynamight" before security dragged you out.

And, to be fair, you did eventually win him over.

He’d begrudgingly fallen for the way your chaotic energy filled every room you entered, how you never took his attitude personally, how you loved him so unapologetically he didn’t stand a chance. It had been inevitable. Unavoidable. His fate, whether he liked it or not.

Still, if there was one thing he should have expected by now, it was that you’d never stop being a walking, talking, sexier-than-you-had-any-right-to-be problem.

Which is why, when he comes home from patrol and finds you standing in the bedroom doorway, draped in sheer black lace, holding what appears to be a homemade whip crafted out of shoelaces and a broken phone charger—he nearly drops his duffel bag.

“…The fuck?”

Your grin is dazzling. “Welcome home, Dynamight. Hope you’re ready for a night of debauchery and sin.”

Oh god. You’re doing a voice.

He squints, stepping closer. "The hell is on your head?"

It’s a DIY lace veil, of course. Because of course you’d take it that extra step.

"Do you like it?" You wiggle your shoulders in what he thinks is supposed to be a seductive manner. "I thought I’d spice things up, you know? Give you a night to remember. Make all your dirtiest fantasies come true."

Bakugo drags a hand down his face. "Why do I feel like you're about to hit me with a theme?"

“Because I am,” you say brightly. "I call this... The Fallen Angel: A Tale of Lust and Damnation.”

He chokes. "A tale—?!"

"You found me, broken and longing," you continue, as if you didn’t just give him an aneurysm. "Cast from the heavens for the crime of loving too hard.” A pause. Then, seriously, “And maybe also tax fraud. But mostly love.”

He wants to die. He wants to walk into the ocean and never come back.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "What the fuck am I listening to right now?"

"A story, Katsuki," you say with conviction. "Our story. One of passion, redemption, and—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there." He sighs heavily, tossing his duffel onto the floor. "Where’d you even get that outfit?"

You gesture grandly to the bed. “Oh, I made it.”

Bakugo looks.

There, in a heap of suffering, lies a pile of butchered lingerie. Expensive-looking lace bras that have been haphazardly cut into strange, asymmetrical shapes. A pair of fishnets with the crotch completely obliterated (why). And, off to the side, a sewing kit he knows you have no idea how to use.

His eye twitches. “Babe."

“Yeah?”

“…Is that superglue?”

“Maybe.”

He prays for patience. “Why?”

“Because stitches take too long.”

He closes his eyes. Counts to five. Opens them again. "You glued yourself into your own outfit?"

You lift your chin. "Wouldn't be the first time."

He stares at you. You stare back.

Then, slowly—so painfully slowly—Bakugo exhales, and a grin twitches at the corner of his lips.

And that’s when you know.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, stepping closer, hands pressed to your heart. “Are you laughing?”

His jaw clenches. “No.”

"You are."

“Shut up.”

"You love me."

He grabs you, hauls you into his arms, and throws you onto the bed before you can gloat any further. You squeal, but it immediately turns to a giggling mess as he lands on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight.

“Listen,” he says, voice low, fingers curling beneath your chin. “You wanna be a fuckin’ menace? Fine. But you do not have to DIY your damn lingerie, dumbass.”

You pout up at him, thoroughly unrepentant. “But I wanted to make it special.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip. His eyes darken. “…Tch. The only thing special about this is the fact that you haven’t glued yourself shut.”

You bat your lashes at him. “Would you still hit it if I did?”

He barks a laugh, loud and rough and real, before dragging his teeth over your neck. “Don’t test me, idiot.”

You shiver, tilting your head, giving him more access. “You’re not mad?”

He nips at your skin, soothing the sting with his tongue. “Nah.”

Your heart soars. “So you do like it—”

He bites you harder, shutting you up with a sharp gasp. “Don’t push it.”

You whimper, squirming beneath him. His hands slide down your sides, slipping beneath the sham of a lace bodysuit you’ve trapped yourself in, and—

—rrrRIIIIP!

You gasp. "Bakugo!"

"What?" He grins, teeth sharp, voice smug. “Just helpin’ you out, babe. Ain't like you're gettin' outta this thing on your own.”

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

Then, finally—“…Hot.”

He laughs again, this time softer, and presses his forehead to yours. “You drive me crazy,” he mutters. “But fuck if I don’t love the shit outta you.”

And then—well.

You do end up making it a night to remember.

Just… maybe not the way you originally planned.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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gmikaelson · 13 hours ago

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My Lady | K.M

["Come on, darling," he coaxed, ignoring Klaus entirely. "Wouldn't you rather have some fun company? Nik here is such a brooding bore when he travels. All 'look at this building I destroyed in 1492' and 'here's where I disemboweled a rival in the 17th century.'"]

Contains Smut (jump to the next asterisk if you'd like to skip)

Masterlist

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"Klaus!" you whined, arm flung across your forehead in theatrical distress. "I'm literally dying!"

Klaus strolled into the courtyard, finding you dramatically sprawled upside down on a chaise lounge, your hair cascading toward the floor, and your face flushed from the oppressive New Orleans summer heat. The courtyard offered little relief from the humidity that hung in the air like a wet blanket.

His lips quirked upward at the sight of you. Even in your disheveled state, or perhaps especially because of it, you were captivating. Your eyes found his as he approached, and you pointed accusingly at him.

"How are you wearing a Henley right now? It's like a thousand degrees!" You gesture wildly at his typical dark clothing, which showed no signs of being affected by the heat.

Klaus chuckled, crouching beside the chaise to be at eye level with your upside-down face, his amusement evident in his eyes.

"One of the perks of being the most powerful creature on earth, love," he teased, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your flushed cheek. "The weather doesn't bother me."

You groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically.

"Show off," you muttered. "I'm melting, and you're just...comfortable. It's not fair."

Klaus tilted his head, studying you with predatory interest that had nothing to do with blood and everything to do with how your thin summer dress clung to your curves, damp with perspiration.

"I could always turn you," he suggested silkily, though he knew your answer. It was a conversation you'd had many times. "Then you'd never have to suffer through another heatwave."

You shot him a look, somehow managing to appear formidable despite your ridiculous position.

"Nice try. I'd rather melt than become a vampire," you retorted stubbornly. "Now be useful and fan me or something."

Klaus laughed outright at your demanding tone, a sound few in New Orleans ever heard from the feared hybrid.

"Always so demanding," he mused, standing up and moving to sit at the end of the chaise. "I've killed men for less, you know."

Despite his words, he lifted your legs and settled them across his lap, his supernaturally cool hands providing immediate relief against your overheated skin.

"Mmm, that helps," you sighed, some of the tension leaving your body. "Maybe you are good for something after all."

Klaus scoffed, his eyebrows shooting up in an exaggerated expression of offense as he placed a hand over his heart.

"Good for something?" he repeated, his British accent more pronounced in his mock outrage. "I'm wounded, love. Truly devastated."

Despite his theatrical affront, his cool fingers continued to trace patterns on your calves, providing relief from the oppressive heat. His blue-green eyes glittered with amusement.

"Here I am, a thousand-year-old Original hybrid, feared across continents, and I've been reduced to a personal cooling system for a stubborn human." He shook his head in feigned dismay, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "What would my enemies say if they could see the great Klaus Mikaelson now?"

You grinned up at him, finally righting yourself on the chaise lounge though you kept your legs draped across his lap. Your hair was a tousled mess, and beads of sweat still glistened on your neck.

"They'd say you've gone soft," you teased, poking his chest with your toe playfully. "The big bad wolf, tamed by a human girl."

You leaned in closer, the mischief in your eyes matching his own.

"But don't worry, your secret's safe with me. I won't tell anyone you're actually sweet underneath all that...murdery exterior."

Klaus captured your foot as you poked him again, bringing it to his lips in a gesture that was both gallant and possessive.

"Careful, sweetheart," he warned, though his eyes still danced with humor. "I have a reputation to maintain. And I'm not above proving just how 'murdery' I can be to anyone who crosses me."

He pulled you closer across his lap, his free hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, his touch a delicious contrast of cool against your overheated skin.

"Or perhaps I'll demonstrate other skills entirely," he murmured, his voice dropping to a seductive timbre as he leaned in, your lips almost touching. "I can think of several ways to make you forget about the heat."

You raise a brow, "Absolutely not," leaning back and flopping back against the chaise, "too hot for that."

Klaus let out a short, surprised laugh at your blunt rejection, not used to being denied anything he wanted, especially in this department. His eyebrows rose as he watched you dramatically flop back against the chaise, your arms spread wide in surrender to the heat.

"Too hot?" he repeated, sounding both amused and slightly incredulous. "That's a first. I don't believe anyone has ever refused my advances due to the weather."

He leaned back slightly, studying your flushed face with a glint in his eyes that suggested he wasn't entirely deterred.

"Though I must say, love, the sight of you all...glistening..." his gaze traveled appreciatively over your body, lingering on where your thin dress clung to your skin "...is making it rather difficult to respect your climate-based abstinence."

You roll your eyes at him, though a smile tugs at your lips despite the discomfort.

"Your ego will survive the blow," you retorted dryly. "And stop looking at me like that. I'm serious, Klaus. It's too hot to even think about...that."

You fan yourself with your hand for emphasis, eyes narrowed at him in warning, though there was no real heat behind it. You drape your arm over your face.

Klaus sighed dramatically, but his hands remained cool against your legs, providing some relief.

"Very well," he conceded with exaggerated magnanimity. "Though I'm certain I could change your mind..."

He trailed off suggestively before shifting gears, his expression becoming more contemplative.

"Perhaps we should leave New Orleans for a while," he suggested, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your ankle. "I have properties all over the world. We could go somewhere cooler. London is quite pleasant this time of year. Or perhaps a villa in the Swiss Alps?"

The casual way he suggested international travel, as if they might pop over to another continent the way most people would go to the corner store, was so quintessentially Klaus.

You peek at him from under your arm, "Seriously? What about everything you have to do here? You can’t just...leave"

Klaus gave you a look that was equal parts amused and arrogant, his lips curving into that signature smirk that had both charmed and terrified people for centuries.

"Can't I?" he challenged softly, his tone suggesting that the normal rules and limitations simply didn't apply to him. "I'm Klaus Mikaelson, love. I do as I please."

He shifted on the chaise, turning more fully toward you while keeping your legs draped across his lap. His cool fingers continued their soothing patterns against your overheated skin.

"New Orleans has survived without me before. It will manage for a few weeks," he continued, his blue-green eyes gleaming with sudden enthusiasm for the idea. "Elijah can handle any pressing matters. And frankly, the city could use a break from my...particular brand of leadership."

He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

You studied him from beneath your arm, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. It was these glimpses of the man beneath the monster that had drawn you to him in the first place, the moments when his passion wasn't directed at vengeance or power, but at beauty and experience.

"You're serious," you said, slowly sitting up despite the heat, your eyes searching his face. "You would really just...drop everything and go?"

Klaus reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his touch gentler than most would believe him capable of.

"For you? Yes." The simple answer held an unexpected weight, a reminder of how much he had changed since you'd entered his life. "Though I must admit, the thought of you in a bikini on a private beach is certainly an added incentive."

He grinned wickedly, the tender moment giving way to his more typical roguish charm.

You shove his shoulder, "of course it is," but can't help the giggle that escapes you.

"I heard Y/N and bikini. I’m in. Where are we headed?" Kol says, strolling into the courtyard.

Klaus's expression darkened instantly at Kol's intrusion, his playful demeanor with you vanishing like smoke. He turned his head slowly toward his younger brother, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"We are not headed anywhere," he corrected, emphasizing the 'we' with a threatening edge to his voice. "Y/N and I were discussing a private getaway."

Kol sauntered further into the courtyard, completely unfazed by his brother's obvious displeasure. He flashed a charming, mischievous smile at you before dropping dramatically onto a nearby chair, sprawling with casual grace.

"Private's boring," he countered, his own accent lilting with amusement. "Besides, I'm excellent company. Ask anyone."

You couldn't help but laugh at the immediate tension between the brothers, though you remained comfortably draped across Klaus's lap, one of his hands still possessively on your leg.

"I don't think your brother shares that assessment," you observed dryly, glancing at Klaus's thunderous expression.

Kol leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with the particular brand of chaos he so enjoyed creating, especially at his brother's expense.

"Come on, darling," he coaxed, ignoring Klaus entirely. "Wouldn't you rather have some fun company? Nik here is such a brooding bore when he travels. All 'look at this building I destroyed in 1492' and 'here's where I disemboweled a rival in the 17th century.'"

His impression of Klaus was deliberately terrible, designed specifically to irritate his brother.

Klaus's jaw tightened, his grip on your leg firming slightly.

"Kol," he said, his voice deceptively soft, a sure warning sign to those who knew him well, "don't you have somewhere else to be? Preferably far from here?"

Kol grinned wider, clearly enjoying getting under his brother's skin.

"Not really, no. My schedule's wide open." He winked at you. "So, where are we thinking? Somewhere with beaches, I hope. I'd love to see what kind of swimwear our Y/N favors."

At this, Klaus's patience visibly snapped. He moved with supernatural speed, suddenly standing over Kol with a hand around his throat.

"Choose your next words very carefully, brother," he growled, his hybrid nature flickering beneath the surface of his control.

You sighed, used to the Mikaelson siblings' dramatic confrontations, and pushed yourself up from the chaise despite the heat.

"Boys," you admonished, sounding more like a tired parent than a girlfriend, "can we not do this today? It's too hot for Mikaelson drama."

Rebekah makes an appearance from one of the balconies, "Do snap his neck, Nik. He pissed me off today"

You turn, glaring at the blonde Mikaelson.

Klaus's grip on Kol's throat tightened momentarily, a smirk crossing his face at Rebekah's encouragement. His eyes never left his younger brother's face, though Kol still managed to look amused despite the precarious position.

"See, Rebekah agrees with me," Klaus said silkily, the dangerous edge in his voice unmistakable.

Rebekah leaned over the balcony railing, her blonde hair cascading down as she observed the scene below with casual interest, as if her brothers threatening to kill each other was merely everyday entertainment, which in the Mikaelson household, it essentially was.

"He used my favorite lipstick to write obscenities on my mirror," she explained to you, her British accent clipped with annoyance. "Chanel, limited edition. Snap away, Nik."

"Rebekah! No," you exclaimed, fixing the Original sister with a stern look before turning to Klaus. "And you! Let him go. I'm not spending another week listening to you all plot revenge because you daggered him again."

You place a hand on Klaus's arm, your touch gentle but firm. "Klaus."

For a tense moment, it seemed he might ignore you, his fingers still wrapped around his brother's throat. Then, with visible reluctance, he released Kol with a small shove.

"Consider yourself fortunate that Y/N has more patience for your antics than I do," he warned, stepping back to stand beside you, his arm possessively circling your waist.

Kol rubbed his throat dramatically, though they all knew it would take far more than that to cause him any real discomfort.

"Always hiding behind your girlfriend's skirts, Nik?" he taunted, unable to resist pushing further. "How the mighty have fallen."

Rebekah rolled her eyes, pushing away from the balcony railing.

"If you're not going to kill him, at least tell me where you're planning to go," she called down. "I might join you. This city is dreadfully dull at the moment, and the heat is ruining my hair."

You look between the three Original siblings, a mix of exasperation and fondness on your face.

"So much for our private getaway," you murmured to Klaus, leaning into him despite the heat. "I think our couples vacation package just got upgraded to include all the homicidal Mikaelsons."

Klaus looked down at you, his irritation with his siblings momentarily forgotten as he took in your resigned amusement.

"I could still kill them both," he offered helpfully, though there was a glint of humor in his eyes now. "Problem solved."

"No," you say firmly, "just...how about we all just go to the beach instead? Is there even a beach around?"

Klaus looked at you with an expression of mild betrayal, clearly not thrilled at the prospect of his romantic getaway transforming into a family outing.

"There's Grand Isle," he conceded reluctantly, his thumb absently stroking your waist where he still held you. "About a 2-hour drive south. Though I was thinking more along the lines of a private island in the Caribbean, not some local stretch of sand crowded with tourists."

Kol clapped his hands together with exaggerated enthusiasm, bouncing up from his seat.

"Grand Isle it is! I'll go pack the alcohol," he declared, clearly delighted at having successfully inserted himself into your plans. "We'll need lots of it to make this family bonding tolerable."

Rebekah disappeared from the balcony, only to reappear moments later in the courtyard, already looking more excited than she had in weeks.

"I have a new bikini I've been dying to wear," she announced, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Elijah will hate this plan, which makes it even better."

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Elijah appeared in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a full suit despite the heat, not a drop of sweat visible on his composed face.

"I'll hate what plan?" he inquired, his voice measured and elegant as always.

Before Klaus could intervene, Kol jumped in with gleeful mischief.

"Family beach trip, brother! Sun, sand, and siblings. What could possibly go wrong?"

Elijah's expression remained impassive, but a slight tightening around his eyes suggested he was already calculating the potential disasters.

"Indeed," he replied dryly. "Given our family history, I imagine quite a lot."

Klaus looked down at you, shaking his head slightly.

"You see what you've started?" he murmured, though there was more resignation than genuine anger in his tone. "Now we'll have the whole circus with us."

You stood on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cheek, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It'll be fun," you whisper back. "Besides, this way they can't destroy the compound while we're gone."

Klaus sighed dramatically, but his arm remained firmly around your waist.

"You have a strange definition of 'fun,' love," he commented, watching as his siblings began debating the logistics with increasing animation. "The last time all of us were at a beach together was 1702, and it ended with a small village being burned to the ground."

Rebekah waved a dismissive hand.

"That was Kol's fault, and they were witch hunters anyway," she pointed out breezily. "Besides, Y/N will keep you all in line. She's the only one with any sense around here."

Elijah checked his watch, somehow managing to look both resigned and dignified.

"If we're to undertake this...excursion...I suggest we leave early tomorrow to avoid the worst of the traffic," he said, already bringing order to the chaos as was his nature.

Klaus looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

"Still certain about this, sweetheart?" he asked quietly. "It's not too late to slip away, just the two of us. I'm quite skilled at disappearing."

Your smile fades, sensing the tension in his tone. Suddenly, the feeling of guilt starts to creep in. “I’m sorry, did I overstep? I didn’t mean to”

Klaus's expression softened immediately at your sudden concern, the irritation in his eyes giving way to something softer. He reached up to cup your face with one hand, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

"No, love," he assured you quietly. His voice pitched low enough that even his siblings' supernatural hearing would have to strain to catch his words. "You didn't overstep."

He glanced at his siblings, who were now engaged in an animated debate about transportation arrangements, before returning his gaze to your worried face.

"I just...I wanted some time alone with you," he admitted, a rare vulnerability flickering across his features. "Away from all this chaos and plotting and New Orleans politics. Just us."

The admission seemed to cost him something; Klaus Mikaelson wasn't accustomed to expressing such straightforward desires, especially not in a way that might be perceived as weakness.

Your guilt visibly deepened, your eyes clouding with regret as you placed your hand over his where it rested on your cheek.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I didn't think. We can still go away, just us. I'll tell them I changed my mind."

Klaus studied your face for a moment, then shook his head with a small, genuine smile that few besides you have ever witnessed.

"No," he decided, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "You were right to include them. They're...family." The statement still sounded somewhat foreign on his tongue after centuries of betrayal and daggerings. "And they're your family now, too, God help you."

He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, his next words meant only for you.

"Besides, I've waited a thousand years to find you. I can survive sharing you with my insufferable siblings for a weekend." His lips quirked upward. "Though I make no promises about Kol's continued existence if he makes one more comment about you in swimwear."

Your smile returned, relief washing over your features as you wrapped your arms around his neck, uncaring of the heat or his siblings' presence.

"Thank you," you say softly. "And I promise we'll take that trip, just us. Anywhere you want to go."

Klaus's arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer despite the summer heat.

"I'll hold you to that, love," he murmured against your ear. "I have quite a list of places I want to show you. And things I want to do to you in those places."

His suggestive tone made you blush, which only widened his smile.

Kol's deliberately loud voice interrupted the moment.

"If you two are quite finished being disgustingly sweet, we need to know if we're taking one car or two tomorrow. Personally, I vote for separate vehicles. The thought of being trapped in a car with Nik for two hours while he glowers is less than appealing."

Klaus rolled his eyes but kept his arms around you.

"Two cars," he called back without looking away from you. "I'm not subjecting Y/N to your incessant chatter for the entire drive."

Rebekah snorted elegantly.

"As if your brooding silence is any better," she retorted, before turning to you with a conspiratorial smile. "Come on, Y/N. Let's go plan what to pack. You'll need something spectacular to make my brother properly regret taking you to a mere local beach instead of his pretentious private island."

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By the time you finally made it back to your room, the sun had long dipped below the horizon, and your limbs felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. Your feet hurt, and you were about three outfit changes away from a full mental breakdown. Rebekah had run you through what felt like a full fashion week

Klaus looked up from the grimoire he'd been studying, his lips curving into an amused smile at your dramatic entrance. He was lounging on the bed, already changed into comfortable pants, his chest bare in concession to the persistent heat, which didn’t actually bother him.

You flopped face-first onto the mattress beside him with an exaggerated groan, your hair splaying across the pillows. You didn't even bother to remove your clothes or shoes, you simply lay there like a woman who had survived some great ordeal.

"Rebekah's made me try on so many things," you mumble into the bedding, your voice muffled. "I think I've worn more clothes in the last three hours than in my entire life."

Klaus chuckled, setting aside the ancient spell book and shifting to gently remove your shoes, one at a time.

"You've discovered one of my sister's most fearsome qualities," he commented, his fingers massaging your feet briefly after freeing them. "Her shopping stamina is truly supernatural. Even I find it exhausting, and I've endured torture sessions that were less grueling."

You turn your head to the side, just enough to peer at him with one tired eye.

"She made me try on fourteen swimsuits," you informed him gravely. "Fourteen. And then she decided the first one was best anyway."

Klaus laughed outright at that, the sound warm and genuine in a way that few outside this room ever heard.

"That sounds like Rebekah," he agreed, his hands moving to your shoulders, beginning to knead the tension there with just the right amount of pressure. "Though I must admit, I'm looking forward to seeing the results of her tyranny."

His voice dropped lower, taking on that seductive quality that never failed to send a shiver down your spine, even in your exhausted state.

"Perhaps you'd care to model the winner for me now? Give me a private showing?"

You groan again, this time in response to his magical fingers working the knots from your shoulders.

"Not a chance," you mutter, though there is a smile in your voice. "I'm saving it for tomorrow. Besides, I think if I change clothes one more time today, I might actually die."

You finally summoned the energy to roll onto your back, looking up at him with tired but affectionate eyes.

"Your sister is intense," you say, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips. "She's convinced I need to, and I quote, 'make your jaw drop' when you see me at the beach."

Klaus caught your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, his blue-green eyes darkening slightly.

"My jaw drops every time I see you, love," he murmured against your skin. "Though I admit I'm intrigued by whatever Rebekah has planned."

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Should I be worried about having to murder every man on the beach tomorrow?" he asked, only half-joking. "Because I will, you know. Without hesitation."

You smile, “Please don’t kill anyone for me,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck

Klaus smirked against your lips, his weight shifting to hover over you more fully, supported on his forearms.

"No promises, love," he murmured, the possessive glint in his blue-green eyes making it clear he wasn't entirely joking. "A millennium of habits isn't easily broken."

His lips finally met yours in a gentle kiss that quickly deepened, his hand sliding beneath your shirt to caress the warm skin of your waist. Despite your exhaustion, you respond eagerly, your arms tightening around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Besides," he continued between kisses, trailing his lips along your jaw and down to the sensitive spot just below your ear, "you can't expect me to behave when every man on that beach will be staring at what's mine."

The possessive words should have irritated your independent nature, but coming from Klaus, whispered against your skin in that lilting accent, they sent a shiver of desire through you instead.

"I thought you'd be used to it by now," you teased breathlessly, your fingers threading through his dirty-blonde curls. "People stare at me whenever we go out."

Klaus pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own darkened with desire and something deeper, more vulnerable.

"I'll never be 'used to it,'" he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "Just as I'll never be used to the fact that you chose me, knowing exactly what I am."

The rare moment of openness caught you off guard, and your teasing smile softened into something more tender. You cup his face between your palms, eyes meeting his directly.

"I'll always choose you," you whisper, the simple truth of it reflected in your gaze. "Even when you're being a possessive, paranoid, infuriating pain in my ass."

Klaus laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest where it pressed against yours.

"Such romantic declarations," he teased, nipping at your lower lip. "You do know how to make a man feel special, sweetheart."

His hand slid higher beneath your shirt, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast as he kissed you again, more deeply this time, swallowing your soft gasp of pleasure.

"Now," he murmured against your mouth, his voice dropping to that seductive timbre that made your body respond immediately, "I believe you mentioned being exhausted from changing clothes so many times..."

His lips traced a burning path down your neck as his clever fingers began working on the buttons of your shirt.

"Allow me to help you out of these," he suggested, his smirk evident in his voice even as his mouth continued its delicious assault on your sensitive skin. "After all, I wouldn't want you to overexert yourself."

You lift your head to look at him, “Yeah? I am still hot, so I think taking these off is a great idea.”

Klaus's eyes darkened at your agreement, a predatory smile spreading across his face as he sat back on his heels, straddling your thighs. His hands moved to the buttons of your shirt with deliberate slowness, unfastening each one with tantalizing precision.

"You are indeed hot," he agreed, his voice dropping to that rough velvet tone that never failed to make your pulse quicken. "In every sense of the word."

As he parted your shirt, revealing the lace of your bra underneath, his gaze traveled over your exposed skin with open hunger. Despite the countless times he'd seen your body, his reaction was always the same, as if each time was the first, and each revelation of your skin was a gift he hadn't expected.

"Beautiful," he murmured, helping you sit up just enough to slide the shirt from your shoulders before easing you back down.

His hands skimmed down your sides to the waistband of your shorts, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake despite the lingering heat of the day. With practiced ease, he unfastened them and began sliding them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Better?" he asked, tossing the shorts aside and running his palms up your bare thighs. "Though I must say, you're still overdressed by my standards."

Your breath hitches as his fingers trace the edge of your underwear, your body already responding to his touch despite your earlier exhaustion. The heat that had been oppressive all day transformed into something entirely different under his skilled hands, a heat that came from within, that made you arch toward him rather than pull away.

"Your standards are impossible," you managed to reply, your voice already husky with desire. "You'd have me naked all the time if you could."

Klaus chuckled, the sound dark and promising as he unhooked your bra with a flick of his fingers, drawing it slowly down your arms.

"Can you blame me?" he asked, his gaze appreciative as he took in your bare breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples and drawing a soft moan from your lips. "When you're the most exquisite thing I've seen in a thousand years?"

He lowered his head to replace his fingers with his mouth, his tongue circling one sensitive peak before taking it between his lips. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as your hands tangled in his hair, holding him to you.

Klaus took his time, lavishing attention on each breast until you were squirming beneath him, your earlier fatigue completely forgotten. Only then did his mouth begin a downward journey, trailing kisses across your ribs, your stomach, and the jut of your hip bones.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear, drawing them down with deliberate slowness as he looked up at you from beneath his lashes, his blue-green eyes nearly black with desire.

"Now you're properly dressed," he murmured approvingly as he tossed the last piece of fabric aside, leaving you completely bare beneath him. "Or undressed, as the case may be."

You instinctively brought your thighs together, "stop," you say softly, blushing, looking at me like that.

Klaus's lips curved into a knowing smile as he placed his hands gently on your knees, not forcing them apart but simply resting there, his thumbs tracing small circles on your skin.

"Like what, love?" he asked, his voice a seductive rumble as he held your gaze. "Like you're the most magnificent thing I've ever seen? Like I want to worship every inch of your body until you're trembling and crying my name?"

He leaned forward, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to your inner knee, his eyes never leaving your flushed face.

"I'm afraid I can't stop," he continued, his accent thickening with desire. "Not when you're laid out before me like this. Blushing so beautifully for me."

His hands slid up slightly, applying the gentlest pressure to your thighs, a request rather than a demand.

"Let me see you, Y/N," he murmured, his tone softening to something almost reverent. "All of you."

The way he said your name, like it was something precious on his tongue, sent a shiver down your body. Despite your instinctive shyness, you found yourself responding to the gentle coaxing of his hands, your thighs slowly parting for him.

Klaus's breath caught audibly at the sight of you exposed to him, his eyes darkening further as they took in every detail. There was something almost worshipful in his expression, a stark contrast to the ruthless hybrid who terrorized New Orleans.

"Perfect," he whispered, his hands sliding further up your thighs, his thumbs now dangerously close to where you were already wet for him. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, sweetheart? How you make me feel?"

He moved up your body to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his bare chest pressing against your breasts, creating a delicious friction that made you gasp into his mouth. One of his hands tangled in your hair while the other continued its teasing journey between your thighs, never quite touching where you most wanted him.

"Even after all this time," he murmured against your lips, "I still can't believe you're mine."

His fingers finally slid through your folds, finding you slick and ready for him. He groaned at the discovery, his forehead resting against your as he began to circle your clit with exquisite precision.

"So wet for me already," he praised, his voice rough with need. "Is this what you needed, love? My hands on you? My mouth?"

His lips trailed down your neck as his fingers continued their skilled assault, drawing soft moans from your throat as your hips began to move against his hand, seeking more.

"I always need you," you exhale, arching into his hand. "Klaus," you continued, whispering his name.

Klaus growled low in his throat at your words, the sound more beast than man as he captured your lips in a fierce, consuming kiss. His fingers worked more deliberately between your thighs, circling your clit before sliding lower to tease your entrance.

"Say it again," he commanded against your mouth, his voice rough with desire. "My name on your lips is the sweetest sound in this world."

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as pleasure built within you, making you arch more insistently against his skilled touch.

"Klaus," you gasp, head falling back as he slides one finger inside you, then another, curling them to hit that perfect spot that made you want to cry out "God, Klaus, please..."

your plea broke off into a moan as he lowered his head to take one nipple between his lips, sucking hard as his fingers continued their relentless rhythm inside of you. Your body responded eagerly to his every touch, your hips moving in counterpoint to the thrust of his hand.

"Please what, love?" he teased, lifting his head to watch your face contort with pleasure. "Tell me what you need."

Your eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with desire, met his as your hands moved to fumble with the waistband of his pants.

"You," you managed, your voice breathy and urgent. "Inside me. Now."

Klaus's control visibly frayed at the demand, his eyes flashing gold for a brief moment before returning to their stormy blue-green. He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste you with a groan of appreciation that sent another wave of desire through your body.

"As my lady commands," he murmured, quickly divesting himself of his remaining clothing with supernatural speed.

He settled between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against your entrance as he braced himself above you on his forearms. For a moment, he simply looked down at you, his expression a complex mixture of desire, possessiveness, and something deeper that he rarely allowed himself to name.

"Mine," he whispered, the single word containing a thousand years of loneliness and the wonder of having finally found someone who accepted all of him, monster and man alike.

You reach up to cup his face, your thumbs stroking his cheekbones with tender affection even as your body arched impatiently beneath his.

"Yours," you agreed softly, the simple truth reflected in your eyes. "Always yours."

Klaus finally pushed forward, entering you in one smooth thrust that had you both gasping. He stilled for a moment, buried to the hilt inside of you, his forehead pressed against yours as you shared breath.

"And I am yours," he admitted in a rare moment of vulnerability, the words barely audible even to you. "Completely."

Before you could respond, he began to move, setting a rhythm that was neither gentle nor rough but perfectly calibrated to drive you toward the edge. Each thrust was deliberate, hitting exactly where you needed him most, his centuries of experience evident in the way he read your body's responses.

"Klaus," you moaned, your legs wrapping around his waist to draw him deeper, your hands clutching at his back as the pleasure built within. "God, yes, right there..."

He increased his pace in response to your encouragement, one hand sliding between your bodies to circle your clit as he drove into you with increasing urgency. His lips found your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there, careful not to break the surface despite the vampire instincts that urged him to taste you.

"Come for me, love," he commanded, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release until you found yours. "Let me feel you come around my cock."

The crude words combined with his skilled touch pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name as your body convulsed around him, waves of pleasure washing through you with an intensity that left you breathless and trembling in his arms.

Klaus grinned in triumph as he felt your inner walls pulsing around him, his control finally snapping. His thrusts became harder, more erratic as he chased his own release, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he murmured a stream of praise and possession against your skin.

"So perfect, so beautiful, mine, all mine," he groaned, his body tensing above you as he finally found his release, spilling deep inside you.

For several moments afterward, you remained entwined, both breathing heavily as you came down from your shared high. Klaus eventually rolled to his side, taking you with him so you lay cradled against his chest, his arms wrapped possessively around you.

"Still hot?" he asked, a hint of smugness in his voice as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your cooling skin.

You snort softly at his smug question, your body still tingling pleasantly from your lovemaking. You pressed closer to him despite the lingering heat, your fingertips tracing the tattoo on his shoulder.

"Definitely," you admit, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. "But I like this kind of hot. Quite a lot actually."

You lean in to press a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart, feeling it beat steadily beneath your lips. Klaus hummed contentedly, his fingers continuing their gentle exploration of your skin, tracing the curve of your spine with feather-light touches.

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by your gradually steadying breaths. Your mind wanders as you lie in his arms, thinking about the moments during your passion when you’d felt his lips at your neck, the careful restraint he always showed despite his nature. You’d noticed how he'd pulled back, even in the height of pleasure, maintaining that careful control he always exercised around you.

You lifted your head to look at him, eyes serious as they met his.

"Klaus, you know you can drink from me, right?" You say quietly, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. "I trust you. Completely."

Klaus went very still beneath your touch, his eyes widening slightly at your unexpected words. Something flashed across his face, hunger, desire, fear, before he carefully schooled his expression.

"That's...not a good idea, love," he replied, his voice rougher than usual, betraying the effect your offer had on him. "You don't know what you're asking."

You push yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with determination in your gaze.

"I know exactly what I'm asking," you countered firmly. "I've seen you feed. I know what you are, Klaus. I've always known."

His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking there as he struggled with the offer and his own desires.

"It's different with you," he finally said, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face with surprising tenderness. "I don't want you to see that side of me. Not in our bed."

You lean into his touch, your expression softening but remaining resolute.

"It's part of who you are," you said simply. "And I love who you are. All of you."

Klaus's eyes darkened at your words, a complex mixture of emotions swirling in their blue-green depths. His thumb traced the pulse point at your throat, lingering there as if he could already taste you.

"You don't fear it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What I might do? That I might lose control?"

You shook your head, your hair brushing against his hand.

"You've never lost control with me," you reminded him, your faith in him absolute and unwavering. "Not once in all our time together. I trust you, Klaus. With my life. With everything."

Something in him seemed to crumble at your words, not his control, but rather the wall he'd built between these two parts of himself. He pulled you down to him, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, his hands framing your face as if you were infinitely precious.

"If I hurt you," he murmured against your mouth, "if I take too much..."

"You won't," you interrupted with complete certainty, your fingers threading through his hair as you held his gaze. "I know you won't."

Klaus studied your face for a long moment, searching for any sign of doubt or fear. Finding none, he gently guided you to lie beside him, positioning you so that your back was against his chest, your head tilted to expose the elegant line of your neck.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered against your skin, "at any moment, and I will. Immediately."

You nodded, your body relaxing trustingly against his as his arm circled your waist, holding you close. You felt his lips press against your pulse point, soft and reverent, before they parted to allow his fangs to extend.

"I love you," he breathed against your neck, the words he so rarely spoke aloud given freely in this moment of ultimate vulnerability.

Before you could respond, his fangs pierced skin with surprising gentleness. You gasp, not in pain but in unexpected pleasure as the initial sting gives way to a sensation unlike anything you’ve experienced before. It was intimate in a way that transcended the physical, a connection that made your earlier lovemaking seem almost ordinary by comparison.

Klaus drank slowly, carefully, his arm tightening around your waist as a tremor ran through his body. You could feel his pleasure in the way he held yoy, in the soft sounds he made against your throat. It was nothing like the violent feeding you’ve witnessed when he tore into enemies; this was reverent, controlled, deeply personal.

After what felt like both an eternity and not nearly long enough, he withdrew his fangs, kissing the small wounds he left behind. You felt lightheaded but not weak, the experience leaving you with a strange euphoria that tingles through your entire body.

Klaus turned you in his arms to face him, his expression more open and vulnerable than you’d ever seen it. There was a hint of your blood on his lips, his eyes still showing traces of gold around the edges, but his gaze was clear and focused entirely on you.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as his hand came up to stroke your cheek.

You nod, a slow smile spreading across your face as you lean to kiss him, tasting the metallic hint of your own blood on his lips without hesitation.

"More than alright," you assured him, your voice soft but steady. "That was...incredible."

Relief washed over his features, followed by something that looked suspiciously like wonder as he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"You are extraordinary," he murmured, his accent thicker than usual with emotion. "A thousand years, and I've never..."

He trailed off, seemingly unable to find words adequate to express what he was feeling. Instead, he simply held you, his fingers stroking through your hair as both your breathing synchronized in the quiet room.

"Thank you," he finally whispered, the simple words carrying the weight of centuries of loneliness and the gratitude of a man who had finally found acceptance in the arms of someone who saw him, truly saw him, and loved him anyway.

"You're welcome. And tomorrow at the beach, when you want to strangle me for putting you in that situation, do be sure to remember how extraordinary I am."

Klaus's serious expression broke into a surprised laugh, the sound rich and genuine as it rumbled through his chest. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the vulnerability of moments before giving way to amused affection as he gazed down at you.

"Using my own words against me already?" he teased, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your bare shoulder. "Clever girl."

He pulled you closer against him, tucking your head beneath his chin as his arms encircled you possessively. Despite the lingering heat of the night, neither of you made any move to separate, the intimacy just shared creating a bond that transcended physical discomfort.

"I'll endeavor to remember your extraordinary nature," he promised dryly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "even when Kol is making inappropriate comments about your swimwear and I'm contemplating removing his liver."

You laugh softly against his chest, your fingers absently tracing the birds tattooed on his chest.

"Just his liver? You're getting soft in your old age," you quip, tilting your head up to meet his gaze with mischief dancing in your eyes. "The Klaus Mikaelson I know would threaten at least three vital organs and possibly limb removal."

Klaus smirked, his hand sliding down to cup your backside in a possessive squeeze.

"The night is still young, love," he reminded you, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that always sent a shiver down your spine. "Don't tempt me to demonstrate just how 'soft' I'm not."

His expression sobered slightly as his other hand came up to trace the spot on your neck where he'd fed, the marks still visible.

"Are you truly alright?" he asked more seriously, searching your face for any sign of discomfort or regret. "I didn't take too much?"

Your teasing smile softened into something more tender as you reached up to touch his face, your thumb brushing across his cheekbone with gentle affection.

"I'm perfect," you assured him, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. "It was perfect. You were perfect."

Klaus seemed to absorb your words like a man who'd been thirsting for them his entire life, his eyes closing briefly as if to savor the moment.

"It was...intimate," he admitted quietly, opening his eyes to meet your gaze again. "More so than I expected. Sharing blood with you, it's different than feeding. Than anything I've experienced before."

There was wonder in his voice, a rare vulnerability that he showed to no one else. Your heart swelled with love for this complex, dangerous, damaged man who trusted you enough to reveal these parts of himself.

"Different good?" you asked, your voice soft in the quiet room.

Klaus nodded, his fingers threading through your hair as he drew your face up for another kiss, this one deeper, more thorough.

"Different extraordinary," he murmured against your lips, echoing your earlier description. "Like everything about you."

You melt into his kiss, your body molding against his despite your recent exertions. When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, you settled back against his chest with a contented sigh.

"Just think," you mused sleepily, your earlier exhaustion returning now that the adrenaline was fading, "tomorrow you get to see me in the swimsuit that took fourteen tries to select. After that, you might even forgive me for subjecting you to a family beach day."

Klaus chuckled, his arms tightening around you as he pulled the light sheet over your cooling bodies.

"I've already forgiven you," he admitted, his voice softening as he felt you drifting toward sleep. "Though I reserve the right to be thoroughly irritated with my siblings when they inevitably ruin what could have been a perfect day alone with you."

You hummed in acknowledgment, your eyes already closed as you curled closer to him.

"They won't ruin it," you murmured, your voice fading as sleep began to claim you. "They're family. Our family."

Klaus gazed down at you, his expression softening in a way it never did when others were present. The fearsome hybrid, the terror of New Orleans, looking at this human woman as if she were the most precious thing in his thousand years of existence.

"Sleep, love," he whispered, pressing a final kiss to your forehead. "Tomorrow will be...interesting, if nothing else."

As you drifted off in his arms, Klaus remained awake, watching over you with an expression that mingled wonder, possessiveness, and a fierce protectiveness that would have terrified anyone who might wish you harm. In the quiet darkness of the room, with you warm and trusting in his embrace, Klaus Mikaelson allowed himself to acknowledge what you had become to him, not just lover, not just companion, but home.

A concept he'd never truly understood until you.

Taglist: @ariesandwolves

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hersaga · 15 hours ago

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No One Noticed

♥︎ Jung Wooyoung x F!Reader

“Come on, don’t leave me, it can’t be that easy, babe.”

♥︎ Synopsis: You were the first to notice how Wooyoung truly felt about himself. Once you did, he appreciated you so much more. You automatically became the emotional outlet he genuinely needed. To you, that meant you had to be prepared for any and everything. The night, Wooyoung came to your home in a panic you were glad you had prepared yourself.

♥︎ Genre: Fluff, Angst

♥︎ Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, depression

♥︎Divider credits to @kodaswrld

Hi guys, this will be my first offical story. I've been writing for a long time, but I've always been too scared to post. I just now finally got the confidence to share my work. I hope everyone enjoys reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for the support, and feel free to like and follow!!!!

When you first met Wooyoung, it was like the world had stopped. He was so sweet and so funny, he brought the absolute most joy to your life. You guys met through a mutual friend, Kang Yeosang. He was dying for the two of you to meet because he felt as if you were the same. You liked some of the same things, same places, so it wasn't so shocking that you clicked.

After a few months, you guys were starting to spend so much time together. When someone saw you, they automatically saw Wooyoung too. You guys were attached at the hip and everyone could see it. Even Yeosang felt as if he was being pushed aside, but he was glad it was easy for you to get along.

Maybe a year or so goes by and that's when you see something different in Wooyoung. You didn't know how to explain it at the time, but it was as if he had changed. He was still the happy Wooyoung you knew and loved but you could see the evident darkness in his eyes. They gave away so much it wasn't that hard to notice. You wanted to question if Yeosang knew about him having any kind of serious feelings. But going back and forth with yourself, you decided not to. They had been friends for years so you were pretty sure he would know something, right? Wrong.

Wooyoung hid his feelings quite well. He never wanted to bother people with his problems, so he never said anything. On the inside it was killing him but he never ever chose to show it. He felt as if it was better if it was just kept in the dark.

More time goes by, and you could no longer keep quiet about your suspicions. You were more than worried about Wooyoung. You grew up around a lot of people who suffered from depression, so you just wanted to be sure. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if something were to happen to him. Once you asked him about it, he didn't know how to react. He was a little shocked at the question because no one had ever asked. He thought no one noticed or even cared to notice.

It was a long night filled with tears and a lot of hugs. Wooyoung appreciated you so much more after the talk you had no idea. He now felt as if he could talk to someone, and he didn't have to go through it alone. You had no problem listening to his rants, or listening to him vent, you just wanted to be there for him as a whole.

You knew you were his outlet, so you had to prepare yourself for all the good and the bad.

Just like tonight...it was a cold and rainy night. You always enjoyed the rain, and no matter how late it was you enjoyed a hot cup of tea as well. Your day was filled with so much work, you just wanted to relax. You were off the next couple of days and you wanted to use those days to your advantage. It wasn't typical for you to get two off days in a row.

It was now reaching 12:01, but you didn't mind the time. You wanted to enjoy every moment of your relaxation regardless of the time.

Clicking through Netlix, you finally decided to rewatch It's Okay To Not Be Okay. The series always pulled you back for more, and you could now say it was one of your comfort shows. You started to watch the first episode, then the second, and then of course the third.

You were so wrapped up in the show, you didn't even hear the frantic knocking at your door. The knocking soon became louder, making you jump-splling some of the tea on your shirt. You had no clue who it could've been, especially at this time. Neither did you have a clue who would come all the way here in the pouring rain.

You paused the tv before you went to go see who it was. You were a little scared because usually everyone called before they came to your house. You set your mug on the kitchen counter, and then hesitantly opened the door. Once a soaking wet Wooyoung came into your view, all of your words were trapped in your throat. He's never just showed up to your house and that's when you became nervous.

"Oh my gosh Wooyoung!"

You could see that he looked troubled. He had this panic look on his face and he couldn't keep his arms still. You immediately took ahold one of his hands before pulling him into your home.

"Did you walk here?" You asked, "You know it's pouring out there, right?"

"I-I had to g-get to you. I was all alone at that house, and you know once I'm alone I start to think. I started to t-think so much that I wanted to do it. I wanted to do it Y/N!"

You jumped at the sudden yelling, not expecting him to. You knew what he was implying, and it tore you to pieces. You thought he was getting better, even though it wasn't much it was still something. He had talked about cutting only once to you. You never wanted to press the issue if there were more times, you didn't want to trigger him in any kind of way.

"Wooyoung, baby, you're going to have to breathe." You said calmly

His breathing was so short and labored, and you knew it wasn't going to help anything if you started to panic as well.

"I-I'm trying."

The scene in front of you was a little triggering since your little brother had panic attacks often. It took a lot to calm him down at first because none of your family knew what to do. You soon found the soothing sound of your voice could calm him down. Everything seemed so loud when he was having a panic attack, but your voice was like silk. It could calm hail in a storm if that was possible.

"Listen to my voice sweetheart." You said, "Only listen to my voice."

You saw how fast his chest rose up and down, quickly moving him to sit down. You totally forgot about him being soaking wet but that wasn't even the concern right now.

"I'm here with you Wooyoung, it's just me and you. Focus on your breathing, breathe in and out, but don't rush it or you'll go into panic again. I want you to slowly fill your lungs with as much air as you can, and then push it out slowly. Maybe even picture something calm like light wind blowing through a field of flowers."

Wooyoung always loved the sound of your voice. He followed your instructions closely, only listening to the sound of your voice. Instead of picturing a field of flowes, he pictured you. He pictured your smile, the sound of your laugh, your body, all he could see was you. You calmed his whole world, and that's why he appreciated you so much. You took the time to learn everything. You took the time to listen and respond with the proper advice. That's why he loved you so much, you cared and you noticed.

His breathing soon returned to normal, but once you guys finally made eye contact, he broke down. You brought him into the biggest hug, letting him get everything out. 'Better out than in' you would tell him. He clung to you for dear life because he felt as if you saved his. If he didn't think about you before he commited to such a big decision, he wouldn't be here.

"I'm sorry." He whispered

You shook your head, "Nonsense Woo."

He wiped his face, now feeling embarrassed he interrupted your night. You didn't mind any other time, and you definitely didn't care this time.

"C'mon." You said tapping his thigh, "Let's get you into some warm clothes and find you something to eat."

Wooyoung spent a lot of nights at your house so you had to make a lot of room for his stuff. Yeosang's stuff was also littered everywhere, making you question who's house it is.

You let him pick out his clothes, but he then turned to you timidly.

"C-Can I shower here?"

He reminded you of a child, one that needed permission for every normal thing like eating.

"Yes you can, and you can stay here too for however long. I don't want you going anywhere else until I know you're okay."

He nodded before walking to the bathroom. While he was in there, you decided to just put a couple pizzas in the oven. You didn't have a clue on what else he would want, plus this was simple.

You then decided to put something childish on the tv, hoping it would calm his mind down a little. You got a pair of glasses down from the cabinet, and an unopened bottle of wine. It maybe wasn't a good idea for him to drink, but you knew he would never pass up on one.

You waited patiently on the couch, not wanting to rush him. Even though you were patient, he didn't want to keep you waiting. He wanted to spend as much time with you tonight as possible.

He soon walked out of the bathroom, running his fingers through his freshly-washed hair. Wooyoung always looked so pretty to you, especially in his natural state. You could see that his hair was now long. Over the past couple months, he decided to just leave it alone and grow it. His hair was always styled a certain way so you could never really tell the length. You didn't really pay attention too much either.

"Disney Channel?" He asked with an eyebrow raised

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Don't act like you don't love watching all the old shows with me."

He let out a small laugh before the oven dinged.

"What are you making?"

"Pizza." You said, "Figured we could use something quick."

He nodded in agreement, not even remembering the last time he's had a slice of pizza. You cut both pizzas in eight before bringing both pans to the living room. Both of you knew you weren't going to eat it all, but no one felt like getting plates.

You both sat down on the floor and dug in.

As the seconds passed, Wooyoung began to think. Of course he appreciated you, but he appreciated Yeosang even more for introducing you two. He didn't know where he'd be if it wasn't for you. You were everything to him, but he had no clue if you felt the same. Sometimes you could be so hard to read. He never wanted to get the wrong idea for you simply being a friend, so he's never said anything.

"What's going on in that head of yours? Whatcha thinking about?" You asked breaking the silence

The voices on the tv were the only things you could hear. Wooyoung was a little nervous to talk, nervous to tell you how he actually felt about you. He wouldn't be able to deal if you rejected him...softly of course.

He then shrugged, "You."

"What about me?"

There was another fall of silence. You noticed Wooyoung was never the type of person to say how he felt all in one go. He actually thought before he spoke. He never wanted to say the wrong thing, especially not now.

"I don't know Y/N." He said, "It's hard to explain."

You chuckled lightly, "Remembered what I told you?"

He nodded before sighing, "Even if you cant explain still try to find words that'll help the other person understand."

"Exactly, so try for me."

Trying to explain was always so much harder than already having an explanation. It stressed him in ways that was unexplainable, and that's why he hated it.

"Of course you know how much I appreciate you. You've helped me with so much, and you're always there for me. You listen to me, care for me, I don't know what I'd do without you."

You soon put your pizza down giving him your full attention.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me Y/N. You noticed when no one else did, and that says a lot. That's when I realized you actually paid attention to me. You were so quick to open your door for me when you could've just slammed it in my face. I love you so much, and I know I wouldn't survive without you."

You sat there a little stunned before quickly taking a sip of your glass of wine. You had no clue what he was going to say, but you didn't expect him to say all of that.

"Too much?" He asked

You set the glass down before looking at him.

"W-Where is all of this coming from?"

He sighed, "The day I realized you were perfect for me was a few weeks after we met. It was too soon, so I knew not to say anything. I didn't want to make anything weird. The longer I knew you, the more time passed, my feelings only became stronger. I then thought it was just something stupid and I'd get over it. As you can see, I never did. Yeosang told me to just talk it out with you but I couldn't. I wanted to avoid the rejection."

It wasn't a funny matter, but you couldn't help but to smile. That smile soon turned into a laugh, making Wooyoung look at you weirdly. He didn't think any of this deserved to be laughed at.

"This is so funny Woo because I talked to Yeosang about this exact same thing. I thought you only saw me as a really good friend so I just left it alone."

It was hard for Yeosang to keep this information from the both of you. Two of his best friends liked each other and he couldn't say anything. He wanted you guys to just spit it out because it was killing him to see how you guys acted with each other, and only he knew the truth.

"No wonder he was being so weirdly calm when I talked to him." Wooyoung said

"That's Yeosang for you."

A couple glasses of wine later, and the two of you were a little tipsy. You guys talked more about how you felt, and how things were going to be moving forward. Wooyoung was glad he finally got everything off of his chest. He could now do everything he's always wanted to.

"I didn't think this night was going to end like this." You said

You and Wooyoung were now cuddled up in your bed. He insisted you guys slept together, you know-to get used to it. The two of you were facing each other. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, feeling he'd lose you if he was to let go. Your fingers found their way to his arms soon finding their way to his jawline, tracing it. His eyes never left you, soon falling to your lips. He's dreamed about tasting them, knowing they'd taste sweet due to the fruity chapstick you always wore.

"Where does it go from here?" You asked, "I don't want to ruin anything."

Wooyoung only shook his head before bringing you closer, "You could never ruin anything. I've been waiting for the moment you can finally be mine. I'm sorry about earlier, but I hope I made it up to you."

You could only laugh, "This your way of making it up to me?"

He shrugged, "We could do other things."

"Easy Mr. Jung."

He joined in on your laughing before a yawn escaped your mouth. Neither one of you knew what time it was coming to be, forgetting it was already passed late. Another yawn came, making Wooyoung let out one.

You guys knew you needed to sleep, you needed to prepare to tell Yeosang everything that happened.

Even though he hated it, he let your waist go. You palmed his right cheek before you pecked his lips twice.

"I know I never say it as much, but I love you too Wooyoung."

He chuckled before he pecked your lips once more, "Get some sleep sweetheart."

#ateez x you #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x female reader #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung x reader #angst #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #kpop imagines

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drabbles-mc · 13 hours ago

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Invisible Silver Linings (5/7)

Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x F!Reader

Series Warnings: 18+, Thunderbolts* spoilers, language, angst, mentions of scars, mentions of self-harm/suicidal ideations

Summary: You signed on to become part of a study when you realized that you didn't have anything left to lose. What harm could it really do? How much worse could it really get? ... You didn't expect to get answers to those questions. You also didn't expect to meet Bob. You'd end up thankful for at least one of those things.

Chapter Index

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: it wouldn't be Thunderbolts* fanfiction without some suffering on Bob's part, i hate to say

The lights came back on again. Food got dropped off. You heard the sound of a door scraping against the floor as it opened. The only reason you knew it was Bob that was being taken was because he was talking loud enough as they took him out for you to hear him. He wasn't saying anything of consequence, but you knew from his tone that he was just trying to let you know that they were taking him somewhere. You wondered if that meant they were going to come for you soon too.

You got your answer a little while later. You were pacing around your room when they opened your door. It was a different woman than before, but she had the same outfit and clipboard. She stood in the gap of your doorway and watched you closely as you walked up to her.

“Cutting me loose, or?”

She motioned for you to step out. “We're moving onto the next phase of the trial, as long as you're still interested.”

You nodded, more out of desperation to be done with this entire excursion than anything else. When you'd signed on for this, you figured they'd stick a needle in you, or give you a few doses of pills to take and then keep you for a week or so to see if it killed you or balanced you out. You hadn't been expecting to get thrown into all of this.

She had you follow her to an elevator, and your eyes went wide at how many stories were in the building that you'd been stuck in. They must've been keeping you all in some hellish maze of subbasements then, since no daylight got in. Seemedlike adding insult to injury, keeping you all in the dark when there were so many other places they could've put you.

You had to squint your eyes when the elevator doors opened back up again. You'd spent who knows how long in darkness and manufactured light, but the floor she'd brought you to seemed to be wall-to-wall windows. Sunlight streamed in and covered anything. It was blinding, but you almost didn’t want to shield your eyes. You didn’t know if they were going to toss you back down into the dark again.

Half of the room looked like a lab straight out of the movies. Vials and beakers and monitors with scans on them. The other half of the room was sectioned off into tiny boxes, all glass and curtains. Sort of like exam rooms in a doctor's office only no doctor in their right mind would agree to this setup for their patients. You could make out silhouettes in some, your first assurance that there were in fact other people still here besides you and Bob. You wondered if he was in one of the rooms. Maybe you two were neighbors again.

The woman pushed open the door to one of the makeshift exam rooms. “Have a seat.”

You looked at the chair that was more of a chair-bed-hybrid, just like the ones at your doctor's office. After a moment of standing in the doorway, you looked at her again. “You guys gonna knock me out again?”

Her face gave nothing away, not even an acknowledgment of what'd happened to you before. “They'll be with you shortly to answer all of your questions. Please, take a seat.”

There was no use in arguing, so you went into the room. You were just going to stand and pace until someone else came in, but as the woman lingered in the doorway you realized she wasn’t going to leave until you did as you were told. Hopping up onto the seat you'd been provided, you made unwavering eye contact with the woman until she stepped away and shut the door behind her. You didn’t miss the click of the lock.

Since you were alone, you got right back off the bed and went over towards the window. You pulled in a deep breath, like you were breathing the fresh air from outside and not the over-circulated air coming out of the vents in the building. You could almost trick your mind into thinking they were the same, though, as you stared out over the expanse of the city. So many buildings, so many people looking so tiny on the sidewalks beneath you. It was peaceful in its chaos. Beautiful. You subconsciously rubbed at the insides of your wrists. To think that you'd nearly given it all up because—

Your enlightenment moment was cut short by the sound of someone screaming. Peeling yourself away from the window, you went back towards the door to try and catch a glimpse of what was happening out there. The curtains stopped you from seeing into the other matchbox-sized rooms, but you saw white blurs of lab coats as people ran past your door, presumably, towards the screaming.

The yell was definitely one born out of pain. You cringed at the sound, hoping for the sake of whoever it was that it would be over soon. If what was happening to them was that painful, maybe they'd just pass out. Hopefully you would too, if this was what you had to look forward to in phase two of whatever the hell this was.

“Stop! Stop!” they yelled. “I don't wanna do this anymore!”

Once the person spoke, you knew immediately that it was Bob. Your heart tightened inside your chest, like a set of vines were choking it out. Pressing your face against the glass door, you desperately tried to get a look at whatever it was that was going on. You flattened your palms on the door, one on either side of your head, and pushed as you continued to try and see what was happening.

The yelling continued. Bob begging them to stop whatever it was that they were doing to him. Doctors and scientists yelling for assistance in a way that had you thinking whatever was happening they hadn’t seen yet before. Before you realized what you were doing, you were pounding on the door and begging to be let out.

It reached a crescendo of screaming and then it fell silent. Dread seeped through every vein and artery of your body as you tried to figure out what had happened. Did they kill him? Was whatever this was too much and it killed him? Did the pain finally knock him out? But then why weren't they saying anything either?

You started hitting the door harder. You screamed Bob's name and waited for the glass to break beneath the slamming of your fists. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you were forced to simply stand there and wait for whatever happened next. How did you always end up in this position? How did you always end up being so useless when people needed you the most?

Then the lights cut out. It was only for a second, two at most. But everything went dark. The brief power outage reset the lock on your door, so you eagerly ripped it open and launched yourself out into the expanse of the lab without a second thought. Looking around, you didn’t see anyone. The eerie part, though, was that nothing really seemed like it was out of place.

Your heart was thundering inside your chest as you took one tentative step after another. You called out for Bob but got no answer from him or anyone else. As you continued to walk, you glanced into each of the exam rooms. Most of them seemed untouched.

The second to last one gave you pause before you even got to it. The door was flung open, and black streaks were coming out of the doorway. Even on your best day, you wouldn't have been able to venture a guess as to what would case something like that.

“Bob?” You wished your voice wasn't so shaky.

Then you heard it. Footsteps. Slow and heavy. You stopped walking, holding your breath as you tried to gear up for whatever was about to happen. There was no more trying to predict the next move now—you just had to take them as they came.

The relief you felt when Bob stepped out of the exam room was indescribable. He looked like hell, his hair all a mess and tears on his face. If you thought that he'd looked scared before, it was nothing compared to the look in his eyes now. But it was him. He was alive. That was better than you had been preparing yourself for.

You didn’t even bother trying to stop the sob in your throat as you quickly went to collapse the distance between the two of you. “Thank god you're alright,” you said, managing a smile through the tears.

The deer-in-headlights look on his face intensified tenfold as you reached out for him. He held his hands up, palms facing you like he was surrendering. “Wait, wait don't—”

You'd hardly started to process what he was saying, or the fact that his hands and wrists were now an inky black color as you went to take his hands in yours. He tried to pull back away from you, but he wasn't fast enough. Your next kind words died halfway up your throat as your fingers brushed against his. Suddenly you were gone, and Bob was all alone once more.

He dropped to his knees just outside the room he'd been stuck in. Holding his hands out in front of him, he stared at his palms through his tears. Clenching his fists, he felt his fingernails bite into the meat of his palms. It didn't do anything to him, though, not like what it had done to everyone else, not like what it had done to you.

He stared at the shadow left behind where you had once stood. Reaching out, he pressed his fingertips to it, not knowing what he expected it to do. When nothing happened, he figured that it was fitting. That was about what he deserved.

Marvel Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!): @garbinge @blackhawkfanatic @mommymilkers0526 @villainfan @i-heart-marvel

@katt58 @foreverchangingmind @ioonatv @wildtigerlili @darkwhisperswolf

@awesomenessfeet @qardasngan @justahopelessssromantic @itsmadamehydra @guiltyasreid

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#thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfiction #bob reynolds #bob reynolds fanfiction #robert reynolds #robert reynolds fanfiction #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #x reader #x reader fic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #my writing #invisible silver linings #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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austinslounge · 11 hours ago

Note

Sadly Austin was bullied in the elementary school. He even got a special note which allowed him to spend his lunch breaks with his mom at home. When he reached the age to move for a new school for junior high he was resistent to that idea since new classmates mean new anxieties. So his parents decided to homeschool him.

Personally I was bullied all through elementary and high school. Actually things got much worse in high school. If I had had such an option I would have chosen homeschooling as well.

It's even sadder that his stepfather was such a monster. Austin said he had very deep thoughts of his own mortality at a very young age during his life with him. Thank God he had his mom who was his safe space.

Then the biggest tragedy that can happen to anyone. All of us know she passed away tragically when Austin was just 23, but I have never seen anyone mentioning a fact that he was her primary caregiver administered her IVs and managed her feeding tubes at just 22. My heart broke into pieces when I read this in an Esquire interview last year.

All these things but especially her death changed him forever. I wish more people know about these periods of his life.

Oh girl -- Your whole ask just broke my heart. 💔😭

I had a feeling that Austin was bullied in school, but I just suspected it, I don't think I ever had it confirmed. It now makes sense why he would go home to eat lunch with his mom during lunch time. 😔

I'm sorry you went through bullying in school as well. I went through it myself (mostly in elementary school) sadly. Idk why kids can be so cruel?

Oh and yes, I do remember him saying in that interview that when his mom got really sick, she came to live with him and Vanessa, and yea, he was basically her caretaker for a while until she died. 😭

From what I understand, she didn't even last that long either from the time she was diagnosed to the time that she passed away. I don't even think she lasted a year. 🥺 Someone can correct me if I'm wrong.

That has to be so traumatic.

I do remember him giving hints about the fact that his step-dad was not the greatest person. Didn't his mom have to sneak him and his sister out of the house and escape to his dad's place for refuge?? I believe he hinted at that in his podcast interview with Ruthie at the River Cafe.

My heart aches for Austin sometimes, because you can just tell that he's probably seen a lot, and has heart dealt with some childhood trauma. 😔 I feel like there's so much about him that we don't know -- maybe a lot that he keeps inside and doesn't share with us as fans. I would love to know more of that side to his life because not everyone came from a picture-perfect life with a picture perfect family all the time. I know I surely didn't.

I would love to get an interview with him sharing more about his life growing up, the good and the bad.

I think that's also why all those dumb stupid false rumors that have come out about him this year ever since his breakup have made me upset.

I think that's also why all of the constant stupid idiotic comments about his "Elvis voice" over the past 3 years just angered me so much. You don't know what some people have been through. You don't know how some people have already suffered or have been bullied in their life.

I wish people would have more compassion for others in this world.

Austin is a sweet guy, and he truly deserves kindness. 🩷

I wish more people (online) would see that, and wouldn't just keep trying to paint him with the "bad guy" brush.

#asks #austin butler #sorry for the essay #sorry for the length #this broke my heart 💔😭

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hearts-hunger · 1 day ago

Text

this show is giving me a headache

pros:

future days, fucking FINALLY.

joel and tommy coparenting ellie we love to see it

the space capsule scene (and most of the museum flashback) was perfect. exactly like the game, and absolutely perfect. pedro and bella did a super job with that. 10/10 wouldn't change a thing.

joel celebrating her bithdays with her was nice to see, and i liked the father/daughter bonding time. it felt authentic and warm.

the joel and his dad flashback was interesting? i'm not 100% sold on it but it presents an intriguing character dynamic. i don't know. file that one under "ehh, okay, i don't hate it."

"say goodnight to uncle grumpy" shut uppppp it's too cute

now the cons. where to begin. and let me say i don't even vehemently hate these things, because i'm simply too bored and annoyed with the show to really care anymore. but, let's see if i can organize my thoughts somewhat.

this is the tamest one, and the most confusing, but was i smoking crack or did the part at the museum where it was supposed to be the "liars" spray paint just end up being a stump in the middle of the forest? genuinely paused it and couldn't see anything of significance there. am i crazy?

also, homophobe joel? am i tripping? weird choice there. and apparently the reason ellie moved out is because she wanted to be having sex and smoking weed and be a rebellious teen, not because she felt this growing rift of ontological mistrust between her and joel.

that's actually my problem with the whole episode (and the show i guess), that it reframes ellie's anger with joel about her purpose in life and how he robbed her of that. instead, we get this cheaper version where she's just angsting too hard.

cutting out the hospital scene was a HUGE mistake. ellie's anger and grief, joel's regret now that the lie is out but also his steadfastness in knowing it was the right thing to do? no. instead it got shoehorned into the porch scene and cheapened.

speaking of, the porch scene was such a mess i don't even know what to say about it. i guess it's not going to be the stab-in-the-heart finale to ellie's revenge journey? it's also not about the fireflies, really, it's about joel lying and how that manifested in the gail thing.

oh, side note on gail, you're telling me we lost the hotel bloater for that shit? for ellie to be a selfish little bastard freak who inflicted suffering on gail for no reason other than to get back at joel? great. that's just what i wanted, more ellie mischaracterization.

anyway, back to the porch scene. in the game, ellie is not so much angry about joel lying as she is angry that he took away her purpose, made her immunity into nothing. show ellie is only mad about the lying, as evidenced by the eugene/gail thing. if they had said even one line about "maybe if the fireflies had made a cure we could have saved eugene" that would have tied it back narratively to joel's betrayal with regard to the fireflies. but no, it's just lying in general she's not enthusiastic about. it has nothing to do with her deep-seated vaguely suicidal failed martyr's complex she has going on, and that's such a crucial part of ellie that to get rid of it makes her a petulant little baby.

they've drawn everything else out timeline wise for no reason, but they make joel and ellie's estrangement last for a few months. that combined with it being slap in the middle of the "gameplay" takes away its emotional punch. it's also very heavy handed with the crying and the passing down the mantle of fatherhood and "because you're selfish" "because i love you" blah blah blah. stop fucking spoon-feeding your audience like i am BEGGING at this point.

same thing with the moths. you don't have to spell everything out, you subtlety-phobic bottom of the barrel writers guild rejects!! trust your audience and let them figure something out for once! let them speculate! let them work through it!!

whatever joel said - that "and i'm gonna live with it every day because you're gonna reject me" or whatever the fuck was SO STUPID. i can't explain how disgusting and pathetic self pity looks on joel. not to mention the fact that his fears of that are totally unfounded because ellie forgives him immediately after. emotional tension absolutely wasted, if indeed you had any to begin with.

the fact is, it's just clunky and poorly done compared to the game. the writing is poor. it's rushed in some places and drawn out for no reason in others. it misunderstands the characters. it just fumbles basically everything, things that are fucking gift-wrapped for them in the game just begging to be put on the screen. the show is just flat out worse than the game, and i'm really kinda over it.

as always come yell at me on @ellies-miller if u dare

#i need some tylenol #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #maddie's episode review #the last of us #hbo tlou

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jumpywhumpywriter · 3 days ago

Text

Traitors & Lovers (Hero & Villain) part 16

Warnings: alcoholic hero, villain calling him out on it, deep discussion talk, lots of romantic tension and conflicting emotions in this one, hero getting mildly drunk as a coping mechanism

Today had taken everything out of her. But at least the painkillers were finally starting to kick in, taking the edge off her suffering, and sleep followed not long after.

-------------------------------------------------------

Villain didn't get very much rest -- she knew that because she awoke at midnight, according to the clock perched on the nightstand. And she couldn't fall back asleep after that, tossing and turning restlessly, and haunted by dark thoughts and conflicted emotions.

She decided to give up when 3:15am came around, and resolved to wander to the kitchen to get a snack before trying to sleep again to see if it would help settle her nerves enough to let her get some rest. But as she padded through the house, she heard a quiet cough, and when she followed the sound... she discovered Hero, fully awake like she was and sitting on a stool-chair at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen.

And... to her shock, there was a wine bottle next to him, and he was nursing a glass full of it in one hand. Looks like he couldn't sleep either.

He was facing her, but not acknowledging her presence, staring dismally down into his wine, though he visibly stiffened when she approached.

"Since when do you drink?" Villain asked gruffly, and couldn't quite keep the surprise from her tone.

Hero wouldn't meet her eye.

"Since you left," he reluctantly admitted. "I only do it on the worst days though. Helps numb things. I'm not a consistent alcoholic or anything, not that you'd care."

Villain felt an unwanted prick of guilt poke her gut before she angrily banished it.

"And today counted as a 'worst day' for you?" She ventured, prodding.

Hero shrugged half-heartedly, and Villain didn't miss how he suddenly tensed up, his gaze darting over to the mahogany table nearby that was still stained with Villain's blood. The table itself had been cleaned, but the reddish hue the wood had taken on would be permanent.

"...Couldn't sleep," he mumbled. "Kept thinking about how I found you on the road the first night. It's stupid, I know, but it just... scared me, that's all. To think you were dead."

Villain knew him well enough to know when he was trying to brush her off and change the subject. She could tell she'd hit a raw nerve.

She found herself gravitating toward the island counter Hero was seated at, pulling up a chair for herself on the opposite side. And making the intentional distance well-known.

Hero sighed, shoulders slumping. "Do you want a drink too?" he offered wearily.

"On any other day I'd say no, but... I could use one too. To numb things," Villain whispered.

They both knew what she meant.

Hero got up and grabbed a second glass, filling it with wine and sliding it across the counter to her without a word.

Villain didn't say a word either, accepting the drink and savoring the burn of alcohol in her throat as she sipped it slowly. The pain was the good kind -- the kind that reminded her she was still alive, despite what she'd been through.

She glanced over her glass of wine at Hero, who was staring off into nothingness, lost in his head. He looked terrible -- dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, and a deeply haunted look in them. Hair messy and unkempt, like he'd been constantly running his fingers through it.

Maybe he had.

Part of Villain hurt to see him so stressed and in such mental agony -- an old part of her that refused to die, no matter how many times she stabbed it trying to destroy it. Why did she have to keep feeling like this??

She didn't love Hero anymore... so why did it hurt to see him suffering, even if she wanted him to suffer?

The silence stretched between them, long and awkward and full of unspoken words and heartbreak.

Villain was the first to break it, clearing her throat quietly. A nagging thought kept bothering her, and she just had to know...

"Did you ever even... think about me? When I was gone?" She asked cautiously. It felt like walking on thin ice, to risk bringing up the past. Like she was one wrong question away from falling through into the frigid waters below and being swallowed up by despair.

"All the time," Hero whispered hoarsely, voice hollow and dull. "I couldn't not think about you. I have many regrets in life, Villain, but betraying your trust was the biggest one of all."

He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing heavily. "I wish I could fix it, but I can't. All I can do is... try to move forward."

"Like this?" Villain raised an eyebrow and scoffed, gesturing meaningfully with a hand at his haggard appearance and the bottle of wine beside him. "Drinking to avoid your problems? That doesn't seem very 'Hero' of you. And it's going to come back to bite you one day -- hard."

Hero shot her a glare, but there wasn't any real venom behind it. "What do you know about it?" He growled. "You ran away from your problems. So you're one to judge.”

Villain winced. Point taken. But it didn't mean her words weren't valid -- she knew from experience the consequences of avoidance after three years of being elusive and on the run once she left Hero. All the guilt and grief she'd been burdened with.

She hadn't expected Hero's raw confession, though, that he had thought about her when she disappeared. It complicated what she was feeling inside. And she didn't like that.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @theforeverdyingperson @whatwhump

@writing-with-olive @and-we-shake-the-iron-hand @art3m1zz @enigmawriteswhump

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factual-fantasy · 12 hours ago

Text

29 Asks! Thank you! :)) ✏️

My dearest compadre I am left handed

@ardent-38

WOAH hold your horses there friend! Octo and Seafoam aren't a couple- they're more akin to brothers than anything. So there will be no kissing in any scenario I conjure up for them <XDD

But other than that-- WAHGGGG THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭😭😭🥰🥰 YOUR MESSAGE MEANT SO MUCH TO MEEEE!!! 😭😭🥰💞💞 --and honestly have encouraged me to reconsider drawing that idea!! :00 So thank you for that too! :DDDD

A force shutdown isn't the word I'd use to describe cybertronian fainting.. "force" sounds more like someone on the outside doing something to Ratchet to make him shut down when he is otherwise healthy/ok. Rather than something going wrong internally.

Like if he was going under for surgery, maybe when he goes under it could be called "force shutdown" as well as "inducing stasis".

Now a "system failure" or "system crash" might be more appropriate for fainting or suddenly collapsing. When Ratchet injected the Synth-en maybe his systems were overwhelmed by the foreign substance and he suffered a complete system crash and collapsed.💔

Something tells me that wouldn't work somehow, but I don't have all the technical knowhow to really explain why that would be a bad idea <XD I'm sure Ratchet could explain why that would be bad.

Hmmm, good question...

The only thing that comes to mind is for Raf I headcanon that he is fluent in sign language and that's how he communicates with/understands Bee. (My version of Bee communicates with sign language, not random beeps and boops that Raf somehow magically understands)

@rainbowwatermelon7

A drawing of mine doesn't feel complete or "safe to post" unless its been watermarked. But it could be different for you and that's ok :0

I mostly draw the scribbly head when I'm feeling well, and the drippy head when I am unwell in someway. I have been dealing with some health problems for well over a year now so drawing myself drippy became my new norm. <XD But its starting to get old so I might return to the scribble head just for the fun of it tbh-

I just like to draw it a bright and fun red instead of a dull and realistic dark red :00

Probably mentally break down and die somehow. 🫠 I couldn't handle living in a world where our planet and everyone on it could be destroyed by Megatron at any moment. Let alone being on the front lines along side the Autobots.

I do have other social medias, but they are all private/just for viewing other peoples art. This is the only one I post artwork to :00

Bibi you mean? I guess I was inspired by cats <XD But I cant remember anything specific that inspired me other than that.

@zecromgen5

Nothing specific I can share online, 😅 but yeah things have been alright!

I only know of YouTube <:( That's where I watched it back then.

@candyglumboy

Aww! The boys!! :DD

(Referencing this post)

Same ✋😔

@milk-powrit

My favorite of the beasts is Mystic Flour, for personality, powers and design. The others are alright I suppose <XD

I would probably be poisoned and die within the day 💀

If you mean if I was a transformer tho, I'd probably become really emotionally unstable like Ratchet was and just sob uncontrollably until I burned through it all 😅

I've seen it floating around Tumblr, but I never really looked into it <:0

He's recruiting more Autobots it seems XDDD

They might not want to fish, but they'd like to watch the koi swim around! :)

AAAA Thank you so much!!! :DDD

@florafandoms

Ough... so old.. 💔💔

Also thank you so much!! :DD

@misscherrypie (Pics from this post)

XDD I was hoping people would notice that. I think a hug from Bibi would fix me 🥺🥺

Pick up a pencil and my friend you have the power to bring a flood 🌊

@briandraws

My spirit animal ngl

@wolfie-777

Hey that cat is pretty cute! We should make a beloved internet meme about it! :D

@kaiserdarken

I have no idea <:0 Since MatPat took a step back from his channels I haven't been keeping up with any new FNAF lore 😔

@beryl-shade

I would obliterate the fleas with my Mary sue mind powers. No fleas shall cause my babies discomfort ☝️☝️

I have now. <XD How bizarre-

#my response #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs #transformers prime #factual fam #bibi

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reveryfics · 8 hours ago

Text

Twisted

Billy Loomis x Male Reader

Summary: Randy was dangerously close to the truth, on the verge of unmasking Ghostface. But you wouldn't let that happen, even if it required a change of plans.

A/N: I am a huge horror fan, grew up on it, got tattoos etc. So I figured I'd try my hand at some horror fics and see how that goes. Got another domestic fic coming soon with Eddie Brock as well. 3k words

TW: Blood - Death - Implied psychotic reader - Not canon

The tangled web of Billy Loomis had never been meant for you, not even a stray thread. Whispers, like insidious drafts, slithered through the periphery of your awareness – vague warnings from others about his volatile nature, the palpable tension that clung to him whenever Sydney Prescott was near. Your intention had been simple: to exist as a quiet shadow within their orbit, an unnoticed satellite in their chaotic constellation. Until, of course, the fragile structure imploded.

The revelation had come in the stale air of Stu's garage, the murmur of their voices a low hum that gradually sharpened into a chilling clarity. You had been retrieving a forgotten jacket, the mundane task abruptly shattered by the weight of their words. Billy, his voice laced with a venomous resolve, spoke of unfinished business. Maureen's death, it seemed, was a mere prelude, a clumsy first act in a grander, bloodier play. Sydney, the final, tragic star of their twisted drama, had to be eliminated.

The confession landed not with a jolt of fear, but with a strange, almost clinical detachment. Death, in its stark finality, had always been a concept that eluded your emotional grasp. It was as if a vital circuit in your understanding of its impact on others was simply missing. Perhaps it was a morbid curiosity that flickered within you, a perverse fascination with the cessation of life. Or maybe, buried deeper still, was a chilling indifference to the suffering it wrought. Even as Billy's knife glinted under the bare bulb, its cold edge pressed against your throat, a peculiar thrill had coursed through you. Had he seen it then, that unsettling flicker in your usually wide, seemingly innocent eyes? Or was that very innocence a carefully constructed mask, a deceptive facade concealing the unsettling depths within?

The shift began subtly, a quiet suggestion offered with a disconcerting lack of emotion. Framing Randy Meeks, the town's resident horror aficionado, a man whose fervent, unrequited affection for Sydney bordered on obsession. "He's the obvious choice," you had stated, your voice flat, the usual animation absent from your features. Your gaze, fixed on some unseen point beyond the garage walls, held a disturbing emptiness. It was in that moment, perhaps, that Billy truly saw you. He recognized the glint of something akin to his own darkness reflected in your vacant stare, the unsettling ease with which you embraced the unfolding horror. He witnessed a kindred spirit in your chillingly pragmatic approach.

The night Steve Orth was taken, the wide-eyed innocence that had once been your defining characteristic shattered like fragile glass. As the life drained from him, leaving behind a vacant stillness, your expression transformed. The usual guileless openness was replaced by a dull, almost languid pleasure. It was a subtle shift, barely perceptible to anyone but Billy, but it spoke volumes. He saw then that the darkness he harbored wasn't a solitary entity. It had found a reflection, a willing accomplice, in the quiet guy who had once intended only to observe.

The fluorescent lights of the video store hummed with a monotonous buzz, casting long, stark shadows across the aisles of VHS tapes and newly released DVDs. The metallic click of the front door locking echoed in the quiet aftermath of closing hours. Randy, ever the eager beaver, was "helping" you stock the new releases, his enthusiasm a stark contrast to the weariness that settled in your bones. But tonight, his usual cinematic ramblings had taken a decidedly sinister turn.

Ghostface. The name hung in the air like a malevolent phantom, each syllable laced with Randy's fervent theories. He was practically vibrating with self-importance, convinced he was on the verge of cracking the case wide open. "I'm telling you," he insisted, stacking copies of a forgettable slasher flick with an almost religious zeal, "it's someone close. Someone we wouldn't suspect. I've been thinking, looking for patterns in the reports online, for clues they might have missed."

He launched into a detailed, convoluted explanation involving camera angles, character motivations, and the killer's supposed knowledge of horror tropes. You listened with a detached air, your movements mechanical as you shelved a stack of comedies. A flicker of something akin to annoyance stirred within you, but it was quickly swallowed by the familiar emptiness. Fear, the primal instinct that should have been clawing at your throat, remained stubbornly absent.

Deep down, a cold certainty resided within you. Randy's frantic theorizing, his self-proclaimed "proof," was nothing but noise. He was a film-obsessed dreamer grasping at shadows, desperate for recognition. The police, with their rigid procedures and predictable logic, would see him for exactly what he was: a harmless, albeit irritating, busybody. He couldn't touch Billy, Stu, or you. Their carefully constructed facade of innocence was impenetrable to his amateur sleuthing.

"Randy," you finally interrupted, your voice laced with a feigned exasperation that had become second nature, "can you just… knock it off? I don't want to hear about Ghostface right now. It's creeping me out." You even managed a slight tremor in your voice, a subtle widening of your eyes – the practiced hallmarks of your long-cultivated innocence.

He deflated slightly, the light in his eyes dimming. "Oh, come on! This is important. I'm so close, I can feel it!" He held up a well-worn notebook like a sacred relic. "This, right here… it proves everything!"

You forced a weak smile. "Maybe tomorrow, Randy. I'm just tired. Can we just finish this up?" You busied yourself with a box of tapes, turning your back to his earnest, misguided fervor. The hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to amplify the silence that fell between you, a silence pregnant with the unspoken truths that Randy, in his oblivious enthusiasm, would never comprehend.

The bell above the video store door jingled one last time as Randy, muttering about crucial plot points and police incompetence, finally departed. You flipped the deadbolt with a decisive click, the sound echoing in the sudden stillness. Turning your back to the glass doors, you pulled a cigarette from your pocket and flicked your lighter, the small flame momentarily illuminating your face in the dim light.

Just as the first plume of smoke curled towards the ceiling, the familiar headlights of Stu's parents' sedan cut through the darkness. The passenger window glided down, revealing Stu's grinning face. "Hey," he called out softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ready?"

You nodded, slinging your coat and book bag onto the floor of the passenger seat, you slid in beside him. Almost immediately, your hand dipped into your bag, retrieving Randy's worn notebook. The familiar, dog-eared pages felt strangely weighty in your palm.

Stu glanced at the notebook, then back at you, a question etched on his features. You took a long drag from the cigarette, exhaling the smoke out the open window. "Randy thinks he's Sherlock Holmes," you began, your voice low and even. "He's convinced he's figured everything out. Thinks he can waltz into the police station with this…" you gestured with the notebook, "and pin everything on the three of us."

A flicker of unease crossed Stu's face. He chewed on his lip, his usual carefree demeanor momentarily overshadowed by a nervous tension. But one look at your steady gaze, the almost imperceptible curve of your lips, seemed to reassure him. He knew that behind the facade of your usual quietness lay a sharp, calculating mind.

The drive to Stu's house was short and silent, punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional sigh of the wind. As you stepped through the front door, Billy's eyes locked onto yours. They were intense, questioning, a silent demand for explanation. You tossed the notebook onto the coffee table, the thud a small punctuation mark in the charged atmosphere. Ignoring Billy's unwavering stare, you kicked off your boots and sank onto the couch between the two boys.

"He thinks he has proof," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, echoing the words you'd spoken in the car. "Proof that links us to everything." You leaned back into the cushions, your gaze drifting between Billy and Stu. A faint smile played on your lips, a hint of the intricate plan already forming in your mind. "But," you continued, your voice gaining a subtle edge of confidence, "I have a plan."

Billy's gaze intensified, a slow smirk spreading across his lips as he leaned closer, his predatory interest piqued. "Go on," he urged, his voice a low rumble.

"I have another closing shift with Randy in a couple of days," you explained, your voice gaining a cool, calculating edge. "It'll be easy enough to cut the security cameras. You and Stu can slip into the store unnoticed." You paused, letting the implications hang in the air. "And Randy's precious notebook?" A sly smile touched your lips. "A few extra pages, penned in Randy's lovely handwriting, detailing his… intense admiration for Sydney. How he felt rejected, overlooked."

The weight of Sydney's name hung in the room, the unspoken final act of their gruesome play. You tapped your fingers rhythmically against your thigh, your teeth gently worrying your lower lip as you considered the final piece of the puzzle. "Getting Sydney there… that won't be difficult either," you murmured, a dark certainty in your tone. "A simple call, a need for a friend. It wouldn't take much."

Your eyes hardened. "Kill her. Frame Randy. Make it look like a suicide, a tragic end brought on by unrequited love for Sydney and the crushing guilt of his 'crimes'." You paused again, a beat of chilling silence. "And my part?" You offered a small, almost innocent shrug. "I'll leave before turning off the cameras. And my dear, perpetually stoned brother? He'll be my perfect, oblivious alibi."

A low chuckle rumbled in Billy's chest. He rose from the couch, his movements fluid and predatory, and moved to stand behind you. His hands settled on your shoulders, his fingers digging in slightly. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "You have no idea," he whispered, his voice thick with a dark arousal, "how incredibly turned on you make me right now."

A smirk mirrored his on your own lips. You turned your head just enough to capture his chin in your hand, your thumb brushing lightly against his lips. You didn't offer a kiss, simply a tantalizing graze before you stood, letting his lips chase the space where yours had been.

"I have some planning to do," you murmured, your eyes glinting with a dangerous excitement. You took a step away, putting a sliver of distance between you. "And you two," you added, your gaze sweeping between Billy and Stu, "can start helping."

The fluorescent lights hummed their familiar closing-time tune, casting long shadows that danced with Randy's restless movements as he re-shelved a stack of action flicks. A half-eaten bag of popcorn sat precariously on a shelf, a testament to the slow evening. Earlier, under the guise of needing to call your brother about a ride, you’d used the payphone tucked away in the back corner. Sydney’s voice, warm and familiar, had been easily coaxed into agreeing to come hang out, a welcome distraction from Randy’s incessant horror movie analysis.

Now, nearly an hour after Sydney had arrived, her laughter mingling with Randy’s enthusiastic explanations of slasher film tropes, the pieces were falling into place. “Hey, Syd, Randy,” you called out, feigning a sudden craving. “My brother left some snacks for me. I’m just gonna run and grab them real quick.” Neither of them looked up from the movie poster Randy was animatedly describing. Sydney offered a casual wave, and Randy just grunted in acknowledgment.

You slipped out the front, making sure the security camera above the entrance caught your departure. Instead of heading home, you circled around the back of the building, the gravel crunching softly under your sneakers. The metal box housing the main breaker was cool to the touch. With a practiced flick of your wrist, you plunged the lever down, plunging the back of the store into darkness and silencing the unblinking eyes of the security system.

Billy and Stu were waiting in the shadows, their figures barely discernible against the inky blackness. You pressed the worn notebook into Stu’s hand, its pages now subtly altered, ready to play its damning role. Quietly, you fumbled with the backdoor lock, the tumblers clicking softly in the stillness. The door creaked open just enough for them to slip inside.

As Billy ducked through the narrow opening, he tilted the Ghostface mask up just enough for you to see his lips. "Good boy," he mouthed, the words a low, thrilling whisper in the darkness. "When this is done… I'll come get you. The final act awaits." His eyes, visible in the sliver of exposed face, held a chilling promise. You knew what he meant. You would return, feigning shock and horror, to find Sydney lifeless and Randy a tragic, self-inflicted casualty of despair. The stage was set. The curtain was about to rise on the final, bloody scene.

Nearly an hour crawled by, each minute thick with anticipation. Then, as planned, the familiar sweep of Stu's headlights cut across your driveway. Without a word exchanged, you grabbed the bag of snacks from the table, the plastic crinkling in the otherwise silent house. You slipped back into your old, beat-up car, the engine sputtering to life before you pulled away, retracing your route to the video store.

The scene inside was a brutal tableau. Crimson splatters painted the brightly lit shelves, a stark contrast to the cheerful movie covers. The trail of blood led you, as it was meant to, to the dimly lit employees' room. There, sprawled on the floor, was Sydney. Her eyes, once full of life and laughter, were now dull and vacant. A dark bloom of blood stained her clothes, evidence of the savage, multiple stab wounds. And then you saw him. Randy hung suspended, his body swaying slightly in the stagnant air, exactly as you had envisioned.

The bag of snacks slipped from your numb fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud. A practiced shriek tore from your throat, a raw sound of feigned horror that echoed through the silent store. You stumbled backward, scrambling out of the door and towards the payphone, your fingers fumbling as you dialed 911.

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing steadily louder. Soon, the parking lot was a flurry of flashing lights and uniformed officers. Paramedics rushed inside, their expressions grim. Dewey Riley, his familiar face etched with concern, gently guided you away from the chaotic scene. You spun your carefully constructed narrative, your voice trembling with believable shock. Randy had called Sydney, you explained, a seemingly innocent invitation. You had briefly stepped out to pick up snacks from your brother, a promise he'd made earlier. And then… this. You gestured vaguely towards the open doors of the video store, your eyes wide with manufactured distress.

You watched as officers carefully collected evidence, their attention drawn to Randy's notebook. You saw the subtle shifts in their expressions as they read the twisted words detailing his obsessive infatuation with Sydney, the fabricated confession that sealed his fate. It was perfect, a seamless fabrication that painted a clear, albeit false, picture.

Dewey, his arm a comforting weight around your shoulders, escorted you back home. Your brother, predictably lost in a hazy cloud of marijuana smoke, answered the door. He readily agreed, his memory conveniently clouded, that you had indeed been there to pick up snacks. Dewey, his suspicions seemingly allayed, offered a few words of comfort and the promise of future contact before leaving you to the supposed sanctuary of your home. The silence that descended after he left was heavy, the weight of your actions settling in the pit of your stomach. The final act was complete.

A few days drifted by, each one carrying the quiet hum of a plan successfully executed. Now, you lay sprawled across Stu's worn couch, your head resting comfortably in Billy's lap. The muted glow of the television screen flickered across your faces as the local news anchor recounted the horrific events at the video store. The narrative was precisely as you had orchestrated: Randy Meeks, the horror-obsessed loner, driven to a murderous rage by his unrequited love for Sydney Prescott, had taken his own life after committing the gruesome crime.

A slow, twisted smile stretched across your lips as you absorbed the details, the carefully constructed lie echoing through the room. It had all unfolded with chilling precision. Billy had achieved his vengeful satisfaction, Stu was safely removed from suspicion, and you… a strange, unsettling sense of fulfillment had taken root within you, a dark understanding of a hidden part of yourself that had awakened in the shadows of Stu's garage.

Stu excused himself to grab another beer, leaving you and Billy alone in the comfortable silence. Billy's fingers traced lazy patterns through your hair, his lips curving into a proud smirk. "You were brilliant," he murmured, his voice low and admiring. "We never could have pulled this off without you."

You pushed yourself up, shifting to sit on his lap, your back now to the flickering images on the screen. Leaning in, your lips brushed against his, a feather-light touch before you spoke. "You would have been caught," you murmured, your voice a soft, possessive whisper. "You're too impulsive. You needed me."

Billy simply hummed in agreement, his hands finding your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips found yours, the kiss heated and urgent, a silent acknowledgment of the dark bond that now connected you. You kissed him back with equal fervor, reveling in the moment, the intoxicating blend of danger and desire that had become your new reality. The world outside could believe the lie. Here, in the dimly lit living room, the truth, however twisted, was all that mattered.

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