#She gets very attached to those few people she's close to because she's got nobody else asdfgjkl | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sidesteppostinghours · 9 months ago

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4 + 5 + 8 + 40 + 34 and I) G) F) for Cyrus Becker my beloved 🧡

afternoon idle!! oh my god questions galore *cracks knuckles* cyrus get your ass over here youre up

4. How easy is it to earn their trust?

Very difficult, and at the same time easier than youd think. he definitely doesnt entertain everybody, but hes not unreasonable. hell hear you out if you give him enough reason to (or if he thinks its beneficial to get to know you. do you see why he gets attached to people hes supposed to be manipulating so often). ortega and mortum required him to establish a relationship, which is how they got so close to eachother so quickly. herald got by because cyrus thought hed be a useful contact in the rangers. chen couldve earned his trust a long time ago, they had to work with eachother a lot back when he still ran with the rangers, but chen squandered it on his suspicions and its been too long for cyrus to have any interest in patching up their relationship. argent has largely flown under his radar, she hasnt piqued his interest more than the passing curiosity of why she wanted the regenerator.

5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

the default is mistrust. sorry yall, hes not taking any more chances than necessary. hes a telepath, he knows all too well what secrets other people hide, and hes not interested in giving people a chance to prove his suspicions wrong. but after hes grown to trust somebody? its... embarrassing how difficult it is to lose it. even though his trust is much shakier nowadays, you still need to have fucked up Majorly to get him back to mistrusting you. if you somehow manage to do that,,, uhhhh. what do you want on your tombstone? (ig its technically its possible to not die and even earn that trust back??? ortega managed, but thats ortega and hes statistically more likely to kill you or ruin your life. depends on how badly you fucked up. id say theres a good 5% chance youll survive the experience without the need for intense psychotherapy)

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

listen. follow orders. be exactly who we need you to be. cyrus was a deeply rebellious regene, but he wasnt stupid about it. hed go against the mission in secret, and just enough that nobody wouldve been able to trace any problems back to him. that doesnt mean he was never caught, but he was too competent of a regene to be scrapped, which saved him multiple times before. those few times did cause handlers to keep a closer eye on him though, just in case. handlers would usually keep a harder grip on cyrus, hold him to stricter standards. it contributed a lot to his own self talk. SPEAKING OF WHICH:

40. How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

you must imagine me holding him and looking lovingly into his eyes while i dump a gallon of insecurity and perfectionism on him. hes a proud man, he thinks hes better than what other people are capable of, but that arguably makes things worse when he does make a mistake. he of all people shouldnt be like this. add the puppetmaster scar on him and its a hefty load of 'i need to make sure every single step of my plan goes exactly right Or Else." the worst thing about him is that a lot of the petty flaws he thinks apply to him arent correct. AND HE CANT EVEN NAME HIS ACTUAL FLAWS. cyrus you are so smart and walking around with zero self awareness, its the best. please consider stepping into acid.

34. How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

hohohohoho. well. the first step is to get him to feel guilty in the first place. traditionally immoral actions arent going to get to him, obviously. the thing that springs up guilt for him most often is themmys death. he has. a Lot of survivors guilt about that. especially because hes convinced himself he couldve done something and *gestures to the ask above*. guilt will haunt him for life if it doesnt get resolved in a healthy way, but hes gotten good at burying his emotions a long time ago. even when he feels like that, he reserves a specific time to think about it, otherwise itll impede on his plans in the long run. that designated time is. usually when hes supposed to be sleeping. his sleep schedule is just a little bit messed.

I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe?

oh dude i Love putting cyrus in aus. its so fun to poke him with a stick and see what happens. the first one i put him in was a band au, it helped me figure out how he would interact with herald. basically cyrus was a masked guitarist (for backstory reasons) for a band daniel happened to be a fan of, except the two of them managed to meet at just regular old work, with cyrus not realizing daniel was a fan and daniel not realizing cyrus was from one of his favourite bands. it led to fun, mlb-esque shenanigans between the two lmfao. the second one i put him in was the becker siblings au, which i still have thoughts and emotionsTM about. that au let me indulge in the 'cyrus is an older sibling' headcanon and i will forever be in debt to it for the amount of protective cyrus i got. third and current au im obsessing over is a 'cyrus survives hb' scenario, where ortega managed to stop him before he jumped out the window. i am getting! so much ortega x cyrus content out of that au! and so much survivors guilt cyrus. cyrus 'using' ortega to forget about heartbreak my beloveddddd. he also says 'i love you' to ortega in this au and canon ortega is SO jealous. also x2, hes an alcohol vice step in this au. heartbreak hit hard and the tequila hits different.

aaaand i still like his canon version better. its just so very much him. out of every step ive got, hes the one i get to stay closest to how i envision based on the choices the game offers. plus he caught me completely by surprise suckerpunching me with an obsession over him and i cant Not respect that.

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

not sure whether this means on a character creation level or as a person, but ill answer for 'as a person' because im overall pretty satisfied with how he turned out! but like. god what is there to not be bothered about. my manipulative little shit of a son. ig the trait that frustrates me the most is his self destructive tendencies. like. Sir. are you at all aware of the fact that people care for you and want you safe? and that you can respond to that concern with something other than "i can use this", "sucks to be them", or, "no theyre not"? sir. sir answer the question. hes so empathetic and also literally a telepath but somehow cant compute genuine concern at him. as frustrating as it is though, i cannot deny that it is deeply funny to watch him fumble so badly.

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

normal. the ones where people look at me and think "wow, that is a person who is having (a) regular thought(s) about their character! very cool!" you will never see a person who is more normal about their guy than i am (i am grabbing him by the teeth and shaking him like a dog with a very strong kill instinct).

truly though, thinking of him gets me buzzing. hes like a puzzle, i keep breaking him apart and putting him back together again to see how everything works. i have this thing where ill often think about showing character analysis to the characters themeselves, just to see how they would react, and i undeniably do this the most with cyrus. i want to explain step by step (hah) why he is the way that he is now, like the whole timeline is plotted inside my head and its so!!!!! i am!!!!! chewing on him!!!!!

questions from here!

#herald is a lucky bastard #he messed up twice in a row (asking cyrus about his sidestep days+picking him up without consent) but asking for help training saved him #cyrus was straight up being sadistic about it he just wanted to fw herald after those two times and saw training as an opportunity #it wasnt supposed to lead somewhere #anathema vision wouldve fucked him and his guilty ass Up. good thing cyrus is a bastard and abandoned argentine before they crashed 🫶#and because i have an excuse to talk about them again heres some things that ive been thinking about lately:#1. it is So fucking funny to me that all three of them are trans afabs in some way #scientists at the farm in charge of the becker sibling batch: wow look at these three new girl regenes!#cyrus (trans man)/fawn (nb)/river (trans man): . well-#2. brother-madds buckley. just the whole thing. im going to start screaming and punching the floor here #3. WHO WAS THE HG SIBLING THE ORTEGAS SAW IN THE PHOTO. was it just somebody that looked enough like the three to assume it was a sibling #or did it happen to look exactly like one of the siblings. or did they find three photos with siblings that looked like each? I NEED ANSWER #cyrus' is very emotionally intelligent towards everybody but himself #when it comes to himself hes wearing a blindfold and earplugs and pretending nothings wrong #the whole time i was answering that last ask i was thinking about my post talking about how many posts of his were in my queue #god bless that man he never leaves my brain #thank you again for the ask idle :DD #cyrus becker #sidestep #fhr #pulp answers #ask game

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forestdragoncat · 2 years ago

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About Argenta's last party, aka "The Jewelled Wings"

@dujour13 So, turns out there is a lot of text, so there will be a post after all!

So, in addition to information from this ask:

Argenta met them approximately 3 years before the start of Wrath on some dungeon-delving mission (the other 3 members formed a party already, Argenta was being solo), and those people decided that they totally should have that "Pale Visage" in their group. She agreed, because why not, she travelled in parties before, just didn't get attached to any of them. Then, when Argy got kidnapped, those 3 goodies saved her from a criminal band (which she angered while working for another gang some time ago), and she was like "Wot?" and "Oh, so a nice thing happened to me. So, where is the catch?". And to her bewilderment she found none, her new party just were that nice! Very suspicious still, but also... curious. So, they traveled for years, had a lot of adventures together (my headcanon is that Argenta is a 6-7 level adventurer at the start of Wrath), and were the bestest friends ever. Argenta actually changed her style during that time - before she was wearing dull clothing with a big brown cape (she is still wearing its fragment), because she tried to be as unremarkable (and not-rich) as it is possible with her overall appearance. And her stylish black and gold coat was a gift from her friends and a symbol of not being afraid to be noticed (a little more info here). She also started wearing a few bracelets under the sleeves, not counting the rainbow beads on the portrait (can be seen on OT3 art).

The Pale Visage and The Sunchaser (nicknames of Argy and Isari) were a complimentary pair of companions, the pessimist who sees everything that can (and will) go wrong (so it could be prevented), and the optimist, who will keep the high hopes in others, save them from despair and continue to lead onwards.

And then a few month before the Kenabres invasion the party got a mission from the mayor of some not very big Ustalavic city, that included sightings of restless undead near ancient underground mausoleum that were too close to the city for its inhabitants comfort. By the mayor's words, it was just a bunch of zombies and some wraiths, nothing more, and the payment was modest, but good.

So the party prepared for the task and went to the dungeon. There were indeed zombies and wraiths, and the party was victorious, but then they discovered that said undead weren't the only types of undead here.

No, there also was a Whole. Freaking. Lich. Well, maybe not a completely whole lich, since he wasn't looking very good even for undead, but still. LICH.

Of course a party of 4 6-level adventurers is no match for such an encounter, so the lich did a negative energy blast that knocked out Cinty and Chaedan, but bypassed Argenta (because she is a dhampir) and only staggered Isari. So the Sunchaser, being the, as Argenta would put it, heroic leader dumbass, told the Pale Visage to get other 2 members out of here while he distracts lich, and collapsed the dungeon with a powerful fire blast after Argenta flied up the stairs.

The 2 unconsious team members were still alive when exhausted shaman got to the surface, but she was never good with healing or positive energy in general, and their emergency healing wand was out of charges (and nobody noticed beforehand, because of course).

And while Argenta was trying to find a spirit of life to lend her their healing powers, the bard and the arcanist passed away. With the two broken hearts (the shaman's and the spirit's) came a lot of anguished screams, gross sobbing and ugly crying.

And that wasn't the end of the story - the last member of the party, aka Argenta herself, did return to the city to collect bounty (because if everything else went absolutely awful, she at least have to get the money, for… something, or... or... even demand a payment for ressurection!), and then she found out that the mayor KNEW about the lich, but didn't tell the Jewelled Wings because a) He was afraid that they wouldn't take the job and b) Because he was being a greedy bastard and didn't want to pay extra. So Argy in a fit of tranquil rage killed him on spot and then run off without grabbing any payment, and also left behind her favourite glaive. And then she was aimlessly wondering the lands of the north Ustalav, before Areelu got her hands on her and began the experiment with Nahyndrian crystal in Kenabres.

#my ocs #argenta lining #they also had a saying “when there is trouble and people are in need the jeweled wings shall rise high”#which Argenta found incredibly cheesy #but still sometimes mumbles to herself during her “azata” moments #:')#and their symbol was the dragonfly

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daphnesfm · 2 years ago

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florence pugh & she&her/ cis woman ‷ watch out , daphne wallis has crash-landed into roswell !! they look twenty-seven years old and celebrate their birthday on 3rd of january. they are from roswell, new mexico, reside in greystone complex and are currently working a journalist at the roswell daily record. one thing you should know about them is she is the youngest of five and the only girl.‷

TW: death mention

full name: daphne jean wallis

birthdate: january 3rd, 1996

age: 27

height: 5’3”

sexuality: demisexual / biromantic

birthplace: roswell, new mexico

fun facts:

to say daphne wallis was surprise would be a severe understatement

the youngest of five with four older brothers, daphne’s parents had stopped trying for their baby girl when their youngest son turned ten, and that’s when she decided to make her appearance

the wallis family were excited for the newest addition, but with her parents being a bit older, her brothers mostly took over the raising of their baby sister

while most people found their living situation to be odd, the wallis family never really thought twice about it; daphne’s bond with her brothers was strong, and that’s what mattered most

she grew up knowing how to hold her own, and this made making new friends both challenging and easy in its own right

daphne has never been afraid to be unapologetically herself, and that goes for everything she’s interested in as well

she was about seven years old when her eldest brother bought her a book on aliens and the roswell crash of ‘47, informing her that she was at the perfect age to learn about the history of the town she grew up in

her love of the unexplained started with the book, but by the time she was ten, daphne’s whole world seemed to be consumed with the paranormal and supernatural

daphne didn’t have a very big friend group because of this, and the friends she did have tended to drown her out when she went on tangents about the evidence of extraterrestrial existence

despite her weird interests, there was always one person that daphne kept coming back to, and that was logan

the two were thick as thieves, getting along almost too well as kids, and then even moreso as teenagers

nobody was surprised when they started dating, and before she could really blink, daphne knew she was in love with him

the two wanted a future together, going so far as looking at the same colleges and making plans in case that didn’t work out for them; needless to say, they were attached at the hip, and daphne could never imagine a life without the boy by her side

for once, daphne didn’t feel out of place in life or like she needed to be something else in order to impress others; logan allowed her to be unapologetically herself and that put her at ease

unfortunately, after quite some time together, her luck ran out when she received a phone call informing her of logan’s untimely passing

of course she was devastated; he was the love of her existence and suddenly she felt entirely empty

it was a shock to no one when daphne threw herself into keeping busy; it didn’t matter if it was school work or her writing projects, she always needed something to distract her

when it came time to go to college, she chose the university of maine at farmington, wanting to be as far away from roswell as she possibly could

those four years away provided a lot of healing for her, and when she graduated and chose to move back home, she viewed it as a new start

these days, daphne runs a successful online blog where she keeps track of all of her findings when it comes to investigations

she’s got a fairly sweet disposition, but she also has the habit of being rather awkward and not knowing how to hold a conversation to save her life

still keeps a few close friends near and dear, but has been attempting to branch out more so she feels less lonely

#roswellintro #daphne wallis: intro #death mention tw

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6lostgirl6 · 2 years ago

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Can I request an Eric Draven one where he doesn't die at the end of the movie and he meets the reader one night when she is walking home from work. The reader didn't know it but she was being followed by mr criminal guy and the crow saw it, therefore, Eric saw it too and came to her rescue. Ever since that night he hasn't been able to stay away from her and kinda follows her everywhere. He feels a pull towards her and gets very over protective of her.

Female reader too please!!! Thanks bestie!!

Curiosity Made The Crow Obsessed Pt. 1

Eric Draven x Fem!Reader

TW: Assault, Murder

The night in Detroit was always known to be a time in which people were in absolute fear. Where the term, "lock your doors," was heavily enforced and influenced. Children and even adults couldn't walk around because of the terror from criminals that paraded the city. Nobody truly felt safe. That may have rang true until the arrival of The Crow. An absolute terror knoiwn to eradicate criminals, ending in bloodshed.

The infamous and newly established protector of the city that did more justice in killing criminals than their own police force in capturing them. Citizens felt more in control of their situations and felt safer, their trust in The Crow allowing him free reign to do as he pleases in order to help those in need.

Tonight, the person in need was you.

You were walking down the street towards your home, bundled up in your small coat in desperate need for warmth. Due to the upcoming approach of autumn, nights in the city were becoming extremely cold. It was even worse when your boss decided to keep you a few extra hours despite you already having a late-shift. Therefore, you were heading home much later than you were comfortable with. The streets and overall sidewalks were barely illuminated from the street lamps that still needed fixing in the area. You glanced around entrances to alleyways, taking caution for anything that could remotely happen. However, after hearing the distant barking of stray dogs, you decided to quicken your pace. Everything seemed to be fine. However, you didn't notice the rapidly approaching figure coming up from behind you…along with a crow keeping up with him.

Suddenly, you screamed when someone grabbed you from behind, quickly putting their hand over your mouth and dragging you into a nearby alleyway that was shrouded in almost complete darkness. You struggled desperately, your breathing picking up when a man pinned you against the wall and pulled out a knife, keeping the point straight at your jugular.

He leaned in close, his horrible breath washing over your face making you almost gag, “Look, pretty lady, just give me what I want and nobody has to get hurt.” He muttered, his hand against your mouth pressed harder, pushing your head against the brick wall.

“Just give me your shit without a struggle, got it?” He glanced around before looking towards you once more. The point of the knife seemed to drift closer, the sharpness threatening to fatally wound you in any attempt of escape. “Think you can do that?”

With tears in your eyes and blood rushing through your head, you nodded. The idea of death being so close made you start to dissociate, the fear of potentially losing your life right now was beyond overwhelming. Where was the protector of the city when you needed him?

However, it seems that your prayers have been answered, as the sudden cawing and flaps of wings echoing throughout the alleyway. The man didn’t seem to notice though which you were eternally grateful for. Glancing over the man’s shoulder, you noticed a black bird, a crow, perched on a nearby trash can. His beady eyes never seemed to drift from your own as he watched the scene that was currently taking place. You sniffled before relaxing, because when there is a bird, there’s a man attached.

There was the sound of metal scraping against the concrete of the alleyway before the man was attacked with a brutal hit on the side of the head. He stumbled back, his knife almost cutting you which you quickly dodged. You took this opportunity to create some distance and placed yourself at the opposite side of the alleyway, close to where the crow was perched. This allowed you to finally gaze upon the person that saved your life. The Crow himself.

You understood that the sound that you heard earlier was when your protector picked up a long metal pipe and smacked it against your attacker’s head. Your attacker was dazed, struggling to situate himself on the ground, barely able to stand up, knife in hand. The Crow didn’t hesitate to take another swing, hitting the man in the face and causing blood to spurt from his nose and mouth and spray the concrete below. The man fell to the ground, knife falling out of his hand onto the ground. He was groaning in pain and begging for the figure in black to show mercy.

The Crow could only lift a brow, a sarcastic smile growing on his face at the man’s pleading, “Sorry, all out of mercy.” He replied, kicking the knife away before pouncing on the man. He grinned at the man’s weak struggles before he began rapidly swinging the pipe against your attacker’s face, causing blood to paint himself and the concrete.

The scene was absolutely gruesome, however, you couldn't help but continue watching, witnessing the way the struggles began to grow weaker and the man’s cries for mercy begin to sound more like gurgles as he choked on his own blood. After a couple more hits, the man laid there, his arms that were once gripping The Crow’s jacket slipping onto his own chest, the light fading from his bloodshot eyes.

The Crow paused as he realized the man had finally died, his breathing rapid from the adrenaline. He sat up straight and leaned back, his head towards the sky as he tried to catch his breath. He needed to calm down before he could check on the victim.

Eric continued to sit on the man’s stomach, his panting starting to cease now that the criminal was justly disposed of. Blood completely soaked him and seeped into his clothing, the liquid starting to become sticky from the frigid coldness in the air. The metal pipe in his hand shook as his white-knuckled grip refused to relent.

You stood there, sniffling at bearing witness for the gruesome slaying of your potential murderer. However, you didn’t feel frightened, instead you felt protected by the stranger dressed in black. You hesitated before stepping forward a little, crossing your arms in order to give yourself some comfort.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” You asked, clearly knowing the answer.

Eric nodded slowly before dropping the metal pipe and bringing himself to his feet. He stepped away from the body before turning towards you. He couldn’t help but stare, waiting for you to start screaming and run away due to his choice of makeup and attire, along with killing a man in front of you with no remorse.

You nodded again before letting out another shaky exhale. “Good, he deserved it.”

Eric couldn’t help but be a little shocked at your nonchalance despite your genuine affectedness from the horrific event. Most people usually would hastily say their gratitude before leaving him completely in the dust. Which you didn’t seem to want to do, instead you were trying to…converse with him?

“Are you alright?” He asked, stepping a little closer and checking you over to make sure that the knife didn’t hurt you when he ambushed the attacker. He would have felt bad if he allowed someone to get even a little hurt because he was reckless.

You flushed a little from his gaze and nodded, “Yeah, you saved me right on time actually.” You couldn’t help but feel a little sense of attractiveness towards your rescuer. Despite the makeup and sense of style, you honestly thought he looked very handsome. “Thank you so much.”

He nodded slightly.

Eric stood in front of you, watching as you continued to shiver in the alleyway. He hesitated before slowly beginning to remove his completely ruined trench coat. The fabric is completely drenched in sticky blood and full of tears, however it should be enough to keep you warm. He certainly didn’t want you to freeze to death and it’s not like he was going to.

“Here, sorry for the mess, that's all I have.” He muttered, wrapping the material around your shoulders and fixing the collar for you. He watched you as you gave a small smile in thanks and put your arms through the sleeves, the material dragging over your hands.

‘She looks beautiful…’ He thought to himself before his eyes slightly widened. What the hell was he thinking? he quickly shook the thought away and looked around before going back to the body, picking up the knife to add to his collection.

“What’s your name?” The girl asked, continuing to watch him as he pocketed the knife into his boot. He hesitated, still slightly bent before he straightened himself up. She looked a little flustered before glancing away from his questioning gaze. “I just wanna know the name of my savior.”

“...It’s Eric.” He hesitated.

He usually didn’t hand out his name to the people he saved, not even the police force that seemed so adamant on figuring out who he was. Thank God, Albrecht was very tight-lipped about his identity. However, for some strange reason, he felt like he wanted you to know.

“Eric…” She muttered to herself and his name coming from her lips sounded like a slice of heaven. “I’m (Y/N). Thank you so much for rescuing me.”

Eric smiled before walking towards her, putting a hand on her shoulder to add a little more comfort from the situation. “Let me walk you home. I should make sure you get inside safely.” He didn’t notice that he started to rub your shoulder a little with his thumb. You didn’t seem to notice because of the thick material.

“Yeah, that would be amazing.” She answered, before glancing towards the entrance of the alleyway. “We wouldn’t want your hard work to go to waste if I ended up dying right when you left.” She joked, but Eric didn’t think it was funny. The smile completely vanished from his face.

“No…we wouldn't want that.” He replied, before dropping his hand. “Come on.” He began heading down the alleyway, his bird jumping from the trash can in order to perch itself on his shoulder.

You smiled before quickly catching up to him, your arm grazing his own which made him clench his fist a little. He felt a little uncomfortable, but it wasn’t because of you. It was due to the fact that he was starting to feel things he hasn’t felt in a very long time and he didn’t know what to do about that fact.

He’ll just have to figure things out.

After a while of appreciated silence, you both finally arrived at your place. Your flat was in the middle of the city in an apartment complex. Eric glanced around before watching you start heading up the stairs. He was about to follow, his boot touching the first step before he paused. He couldn’t help feeling a little protective over you and he didn’t know how to feel about that. Honestly, it scared him a little. He watched you as you finally reached the top before turning towards him.

“Thank you again!” You said, leaning against the railing, your coat covered hands gripping the metal.

He stayed at the bottom of the stairs and gave a small smile and nod, “You’re welcome.” He replied, his voice a little quiet and his gaze was intense yet soft as he continued looking at you. “Be more careful or I’ll have to come save you again.” However, he didn’t mind rescuing you, if it meant that he would be able to see you again.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” You smirked.

Eric tensed as he comprehended what you just said to him. The implication that you wanted to see him again echoed in his mind like a broken record. When he was finally able to get his bearings, you were already gone before he could reply. He stood there for a while before smiling to himself. He stepped off the stairs, making his bird flap its wings to stabilize itself and continued down the street.

As he continued walking, he remembered that he forgot to get his coat back, knowing that you were wearing such dirty material. He sighed, thinking you would just go ahead and throw it away. He’ll have to get another one eventually. Right now, he needed to figure out what was happening to him. Not only that, but keep a close watch over you. You made him curious and eventually, that curiosity would lead towards something greater. Complete and utter obsession.

#the crow 1994 #1994 the crow #the crow #brandon lee the crow #eric draven #eric draven x reader #eric draven x fem!reader #the crow fanfiction #the crow 1994 fanfiction #the crow fanfic #brandon lee

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absolutelyfizzing · 3 years ago

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angels and demons

warren worthington x reader fluff

@shuckfaced-fangirl Hi! can I request a warren worthington x female mutant reader where her powers are shadow summoning? So I guess everyone in the school kind of views her as some sort of demon? With a lot of fluff? Thank you!!

Description - Y/N is a shadow summoner and is isolated from her peers. Warren helps her see that not everyone fears her and that she is worthy of affection.

warnings - its so fluffy. fem pronouns. some angsty stuff (isolation, depression, sadness), one innuendo, devastating fluff, warren being an angel. i tried to make it POC inclusive, please let me know if it feels restricting or excluding and i will edit it.

word count - 3700, i got carried away

A/N - im so sorry this took so long, i took a break from writing while i am working on moving to college. i will still be spotty for the next few weeks but hopefully, i will post a few more things in that time and then get back on a normal schedule. also, thanks so much for this request, i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope it is something you enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

You walked through the halls with a lowered head. You knew that you made others uncomfortable and so you chose to try to make yourself as small and unthreatening as possible. You had been 'gifted' powers with which you could manipulate and create darkness. You were a shadow summoner. That wasn't a name that many found reassuring or comforting.

There were a few who could see past it and who was close to being what you might call friends but those people were few and far between. There were overwhelmingly more people who believed that you must have been a scary and mean person, that you were some sort of demon. This couldn't have been further from the truth if one were to look past appearances. Your shadow was larger and darker than that of your peers and it trailed behind you with a mind of its own, moving and growing without you even meaning for it to happen. Your hands were constantly covered in something darker and dustier than the rest of your skin, a deep and pure black. It trailed from the tips of your fingers and faded on your forearm so it looked as though you had just dipped your arms into a chimney or that shadows were crawling up your arms.

When you first got them, you thought they were sort of cool. They made you look sort of goth and that was fun. That feeling quickly faded when you saw how others, even your family, reacted. They said it was a curse from hell. You were barely convinced otherwise.

You sat away from others at the school during free periods. During lunch you sat alone and in the sun when you could, you hoped it might make others be less scared of you as it might make you look brighter but your shadow, dark and ominous, maintained a spot near you. You wore clothes that made you look more approachable to try to maintain that you weren't scary. Your brightly colored outfit didn't ever seem to work though, no matter how hard you tried.

You looked down at the food in your hands, the sandwich only half-eaten, and you noted your hands. They were so normal looking, your nails were well kept and you thought they were a good size. That they might even be a good size for someone to hold. The only thing was the unnaturally colored dust that seemed to cover them. It was a cool black, it glistened and sparkled in the sun when your fingers moved. It never moved or transferred to anything else, always stuck securely to your skin. You were distracted by the way your fingers seemed to shine when a shadow came near yours, wings outlined in it. You looked up to see a tall blond boy above you with curly hair and bags under his eyes. He nodded to a spot on the grass near you.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

You shook your head and even scooted away from the spot to give him more space despite the fact that you were in a large field.

"Do you want me to move?" You asked gently, wondering if maybe he wanted this particular spot and you took it from him unknowingly.

"I mean, I think that would sort of take away the whole point of me trying to sit with you." He smirked and you felt blood rush to your cheeks. "I like your hands" He hummed and you looked at him in shock. When his eyes met yours you tilted your head a bit.

"They don't bother you?" You tried to speak softly.

"No, I think they're awesome. They make you look punk." He smiled and you felt the corners of your mouth tug up a bit too.

"I like your wings." You almost mumbled as you allowed your gaze to move to the large feathery wings behind him. They moved in the wind and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers through them. "They make you look like an angel." You smiled and he groaned dramatically.

"I'm trying to look grunge." He pouted and you giggled a bit. At the sound, he looked up at you and blushed a bit. "Maybe we should trade."

"If I could trade you I would. Everyone is scared of how I look." You gazed back at the grass.

"I'm not." His simple statement made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you smiled a bit. You looked back at him and made eye contact for a moment.

"What's your name?" You asked and he maintained his gaze into your eyes. It was the most contact or conversation with someone else you'd had in a long time.

"I'm Warren." He smiled a bit and stuck a hand out to you to shake. You looked at his hand in shock. Nobody ever voluntarily touched your hands. Most of them worried that whatever was on them would spread. You hesitantly brought your hand to his, purposefully giving him plenty of time to remove his hand if he felt uncomfortable. But he didn't. Instead, your hand reached his and he shook it before letting go as if it was no big deal.

"I'm Y/N." You smiled a bit more and you felt a giggle come out of you from the joy of realizing this wasn't a dream, that someone was trying to talk to you and they weren't afraid.

"Is my name that funny?" He teased.

"No, I just-" you paused to think, "it's been so long since anyone has done this with me."

"Talked to you?" He questioned, obviously expecting you to say no and explain what you meant. Instead, you just nodded and his heart clenched for a moment. "Well, you can stick with me then."

"I don't know if you want your reputation to take a hit like that."

"My reputation is 'the angry and damaged kid', I'm sure it can handle the breaking news of me talking to a nice and pretty girl." He reassured before he even realized what he was saying. You could have cried at the feeling that rose up in your chest.

After that day, you stuck to his side like glue and he took no issue with it. The more you got to know him the more you appreciated the fact that he had taken you in. With his help, over the coming months, he helped you develop a stable friend group. That group included people like Ororo and Jane who had heard rumors about you and never bothered to check and see if they were real. They apologized profusely, especially Jean as she felt like she could have easily found out that you were kinder than she thought with her abilities but just had never done so, and you gladly accepted, just happy to be within a group.

You and Warren had developed a reputation. He was overly protective and gruff while you were overly nice and empathetic. You balanced each other well and if you were honest, you were in love with him. That always felt weird to say, you'd never been in love with anyone before but every second you spent with him made you more and more sure of your feelings.

When you and Warren were together, you would daydream about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. Being held by him and wrapped in his wings. Getting to play with his unkempt hair. Holding his hand.

Sometimes he would try to encourage you to hold his hand. He would hold it out to you when he was helping you jump down from somewhere high. He would ask you to hand him things and then make decisive contact as he took it from you. He knew that it meant a lot to you, you practically gasped and blushed every time he did it. He had never met anyone so touch starved. He wanted to give you all the affection that you craved.

Unfortunately, Warren was rather oblivious, especially towards things like feelings and emotions. He had no clue that you had any interest in him, even though he hoped you did every day. If he wasn't so attached to your friendship, he might ask you out. Instead, he tried to maintain a friendly distance so he didn't cross any lines while also being as affectionate with you as he could be. You followed a similar path.

The person caught in the middle of this was poor Jean Gray. she had watched you pine over each other since you met and had heard every thought that went through both of your heads. She knew you would never complain or ask for help about anything so she liked to keep tabs on your thoughts every once in a while to make sure you were okay. Still, she tried her best to not listen very often or when you were thinking about anything very personal, she honestly did. But she was a romantic. All she wanted was for you two idiots to get together but you were both oblivious. She decided, probably 3 months into you becoming friends, that she had to do something about it.

She was sitting on your bed while you sat across your bedroom on your small couch. She fiddled with her thumbs while she tried to ignore your constant thoughts about Warren, his hands, his wings, his smile. She was exhausted. she took a small breath while she planned how she would try to say this to you.

"Do you want to know what I heard today?" She called and you looked up at her from the book you were pretending to read.

"Do you mean heard or 'heard'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes.

"Either." Then she tilted her head. "Both."

"Yeah, I wanna know! What's it about?" You asked while leaning forward in your seat. Jean always had the best gossip to tell because she could literally hear it.

"Warren." She stated simply and watched your reaction. You flushed and stopped breathing for a moment.

"Wha-" you stuttered, "what about him?"

"That he has a thing for you." she winked and you flushed even more.

"You're lying." You assured, a questioning look on your face.

"I'm not and I'm tired of watching you two longing after one another while the rest of the school watches." She smiled and your heart picked up.

"I thought I told you not to look in my head!" You scolded but you weren't actually all that upset. You knew that it was very hard for her to control.

"I cant help it! Both of you think so loud. And I wouldn't have to anyway, Ororo mentioned it to me the other day and she definitely cants read minds." She giggled and you smiled a bit.

"Does he actually like me?" You almost whispered in disbelief.

"Yes! He's been obsessed with you since you started talking."

"But like he would want to actually go-"

"Y/N, I swear to god. If you don't go and talk to him right now I'm going to have a fit." She laughed and you glared at her.

"Okay okay fine, I'm going," you grumbled as you stood and walked toward your door. "If you are wrong I'm gonna be so upset with you."

She just laughed again and you started to walk down the hallway. You thought he might be in his room or outside. You decided to check his room first.

You knocked on his door but you were met with silence. You tried the handle and it moved.

"Warren?" you paused, "I'm coming in," you warned and pushed the door open. When you looked inside, he wasn't there. You took a moment to gaze around his room, it wasn't the first time you had been in there but every time was a bit exciting as you got to see all of the things he had that represented him. He had a boombox and a CD collection on his dresser. Some of his clothes were thrown around his room haphazardly and some of his drawers were open. You looked at the wall next to you where he kept photos that you took. You would carry around a camera or take pictures on your phone of everyone around campus. He always asked for them and then printed them out so he could hang them up. He had even managed to get a couple of you. You smiled a bit before heading back into the hallway, closing the door behind you.

You instead moved towards the door to get out onto the lawn where you thought he would probably be. He often sat under the big oak trees or on the roof if he wanted to get away from people. When you made it outside, you looked around for him.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout. You turned to look for him and saw his silhouette flying from the roof. You paused to admire him and his wings. He always looked so angelic to you. So powerful. You thought about how your power emanated darkness. That you would never appear angelic to someone and would more likely look like a demon. You looked down at your hands for a second, a habit you had when you were thinking about your powers. They sparkled a bit in the sun but it did little to quell the distaste in your mouth.

Suddenly there was a shadow in front of you that was not part of the darkness that surrounded you.

"Y/N?" he asked gently. "Are you okay?" he tried not to startle you. Being empathetic wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he tried extra hard around you. he noticed the way you were staring at your hands. The growth of your shadow as you thought about your powers more. He moved to touch one of your hands but you flinched back a bit. He brought his hand back and looked at you with concern. "Whats wrong, angel?" He asked lightly and you looked up at the pet name. He had started calling you that soon after you became friends. You thought it was out of irony but he really was convinced that you were some sort of angel. He also loved the way that your eyes would light up when he said it. You stared at him for a moment in silence.

"Do I scare you?" You asked quietly and your voice shook. He looked surprised by your question and you were surprised too. You didn't know why you were suddenly getting emotional. Why this was now all you could think about. Why it had to come up now when you were trying to express your feelings for him. Instead of responding he reached out to your hand, holding onto it when you let him, despite flinching away slightly. He started to walk, leading you toward the same tree you had met under. Once you both reached it he sat down and looked up at you, waiting for you to sit down too. You did, maybe a bit farther away from him than you needed to be.

"Do you think you scare me?" he asked genuinely and you took a second to think, looking back down at your hands which were now pulled back into your lap.

"I scare me," you stated simply and paused.

"That's not what I asked."

"I don't know." You mumbled. "I think I freak everyone out. Including you I guess." Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. you really hadn't thought about it in a little while. It had been on your mind plenty when you first started talking to him. You were extra conscious of not pushing him to be around you or near your shadow. You knew that he would move away if he needed to but you also had so many memories of everyone around you fearing you, running from you, telling you that you were a curse. Instead of responding he held his hand out in between the two of you, palm up. You knew that he was inviting you to take it but that he wouldn't push you to. Instead of taking it, you placed your hand near his on the ground and he left his next to yours, not trying to take it if you didn't want him to.

"You don't." He let out, sounding sure of himself and slightly pained. "You don't scare me." You looked at each other. He had tears in his eyes. He was never one to get emotional so you were surprised. "Do I scare you?" he questioned, already knowing your answer but trying to prove a point.

"Of course not." You sighed.

"You have a lot more reason to be afraid of me than I have to be afraid of you." he looked at your hand again. "I'm the one who has a rough history, I'm the one who is angry and has a reputation of being aggressive."

"But, Warren, your mutation is-"

"Mutation has nothing to do with it, Y/N." he sighed. "You have control over your abilities, I have control over mine. The only difference between us is our personalities and I have never had any reason to fear you or dislike you. You're the kindest person I know and everyone in your life who has let you think that there was something wrong with you was terrible. And that was on them."

Your hand reached for his and you laced your fingers together. He squeezed your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"I love you." The words came out of your mouth faster than you could think and you sucked in a breath, almost hoping he didn't hear you. When you glanced up at him he had a gentle smile on his face. He brought the back of your hand up to his face and kissed it before placing it against his cheek.

"I love you too, Y/N" He reached out for your waist and pulled you toward his lap, giving you plenty of time to give him a sign that you were uncomfortable. Instead, you put your leg over his waist so you were straddling his thighs. You held one of his hands in between you and fiddled with his fingers, admiring how your hands contrasted with his. Somehow, him holding your hand made it seem less out of place. You almost felt pride.

You were suddenly surrounded by warmth and shadow, the sounds of the quad around you becoming muted. You looked up around you and his wings were wrapped around the two of you, closing you off into your own little world. You felt the urge to reach out to them but you had never asked. You had never seen him let anyone touch them and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Go ahead." your eyes snapped to his in shock.

"Warren, you never let any-"

"I want you to," he admitted and it was true. He had thought many times about asking you to run your fingers through his wings. He would never complain about it but they were a little high maintenance and also sensitive. He never let anyone touch them because most people weren't gentle or he didn't trust them. He knew though that you were the gentlest person on Earth and that he could count on you to be careful.

At his reassurance, you smiled a bit. You reached a hand out to the part of his wing next to his shoulder. You both gasped a bit when your fingers made contact. Warren was a bit surprised at how sensitive they were to your touch and it had been a long time since anyone but himself had touched them. You were entranced by how soft they were. The feathers were delicate and there were so many. You were very careful in how you moved your hand along his wing, looking at him often to see if he was uncomfortable. As you were carding your fingers through his feathers, one came out. You gasped slightly horrified that you had hurt him.

"Hey, it's okay!" he rushed out as he saw your panic. "They just sort of... shed sometimes." He almost seemed embarrassed. Feathers would come off occasionally and he would often have to brush through them himself to release all of the loose feathers, sort of like brushing your hair. He reached to pick up the feather and held it in front of you for you to take. You gladly did and you twirled it in your fingers. "Maybe sometime, if you wouldn't mind, of course, you could help me brush through them?" he asked quietly and you smiled.

"Yeah of course. They seem like they might be a lot of work." you were touched that he trusted you to do that and you thought about how hard it must be to take care of them by himself when they were so big and most of his wings were behind him.

"You should see what it's like to shower with them," he grumbled and then his eyes widened at what he had said. He hadn't meant it to be an innuendo but now he was worried he offended you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and you fell into a fit of giggles.

"I might have to take you up on that offer." Your gentle gaze made him blush. He had never felt this comfortable with anyone. This safe. He decided right then that he would do anything you ever asked of him.

After that day, you and Warren became the cutest couple at the school. You were opposites in multiple ways and your relationship was more wholesome than any of your friends could handle. You got more confident in yourself and your abilities and he allowed himself to be more vulnerable. everyone agreed that you were a match made in heaven.

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 2 years ago

Note

For the ask game:

8. What I like most about your writing

I like how deep you get into creating characters. There is so much detail put into creating them, with how their living circumstances realistically are (Peter is canonically poor and Midtown tech looks way to fancy to be anything but a rich private school, which would really impact Peter but the marvel movies kinda ignore a lot of the details there, and you didn’t) to how they would interact with the world/other characters (it’s great how you show how Peter’s life impacts his relationship with Frank). I love it so much!!!!!

9. A fic I’m excited for you updating

The first step of kintsugi!

14. A fic I didn’t expect to like so much

Kintsugi and Therianthropy. I know very little about Frank Castle (his show is a little dark for me and I haven’t gotten to him in Daredevil yet) but I ran out of Matt mentors Peter fics so I thought I’d give kitsugi a try. Now I am attached to Frank and Lisa, characters I know little about outside of your writing

15. A question about your fic

We’ve gone over MJ and Peters living situation, but what about Ned? Does he have parents or live with just his grandma? Is he rich or one of the scholarship kids like Peter and MJ? When did Peter meet him?

poverty was such a fundamental thing to peter's character that i really wasn't willing to like, write a version of peter that didn't have that be a part of his person. like, it's such cornerstone of who he is and why he makes the decisions that he does that i couldn't really conceptualize him turning out into the same peter parker that became spiderman without it. the writers of the mcu sort of made light of it, talking about how may could sustain them and how nobody wants spiderman to have to remember the eggs for his struggling aunt or whatever, which i feel just. misunderstands why peter parker became spiderman or what spiderman represents. it was surprisingly easy to lean into what the mcu had and weave in peter parker's canonical origins. so much of it was just connecting the dots with natural consequences, like how that might affect him in a visibly rich school and his relationship with frank, who's shown to have been living in a pretty nice middle class set up before his family died.

i LOVE fics where matt mentors peter and i'm thrilled you gave me a shot. (if you haven't read the staying close to the ground or dumpster fires verses, i highly recommend them). frank there's a lot of outside of my writing, lisa i made up almost wholesale. there's nothing. she's the perfect daughter who died too young, and so i wanted to pull her off the ice and make her half feral. i love her so much. she is so unwell. like, i like to use isolated POVs to sort of "narrow" the story and influence its framing, because i think the voice of a story almost always makes it an entirely different story, and therianthropy necessarily had to come through matt and only matt, so she was sort of absent from the last installment, but she is So Unwell. like i know a lot of people are waiting for frank to show up but we need to Unpack some of the shit she's got going on mentally first.

And Ned! ned ned ned! i love ned! he's so fun and almost entirely absent from kintsugi so far, so, devastatingly, he has very little known about him. he's going to be way more present, we just have to get a few more things out of the way before he can come and join the rest of the main cast.

i'm going to keep the answers kind of vague because some of it is going to be discussed in depth later in the story, and i don't want to spoil it. but, generally speaking:

Just his grandma.

he's in between. Wealth at midtown tech is sort of on a sliding scale. you have students who are poor, and i think that midtown is prestigious enough that that sliding scale goes allllll the way up to families that are in the range of "CEO to tech conglomerate" levels of wealth. like, for the most part, those families go to super ritzy private schools, but midtown has churned out enough successfully scientists that it's not unheard of for majorly rich people to send their kids there too. that's rare enough that you really don't have a student that wealthy enrolled right now, but you do have people whose families have net worths that are easily in the several million dollar range. MJ and Peter are really the only ones in the school that can really be called poor. like, if you took a poll of their classmates, MJ and peter would really be the only ones who can remember having times where they aren't really certain if the heat can stay on or if there's enough to eat. and there's a lot of reasons why that is, but i think the biggest one is that this midtown science has a scholarship system entirely dependent on merit instead of need. like, not to get too deep in the weeds on the scholarship program for this fanfiction, but i think the only way to get a scholarship for midtown is to do so through an official testing program. there is no analysis of need for scholarships. there is a need-based grant program meant to support students with financial difficulties, but it's structured in a way that makes it incredibly difficult to use and requires a new application every single billing cycle, meaning that most of the students are students from families that can afford tuition. because scholarship is merit-based, it's become a huge status symbol at midtown science. it's also why this system gets perpetuated--parents pay out their nose for private tutors to make sure their kids place extremely high on the placement exams, not because they need a scholarship, but because having a kid that got most of their tuition waived means they're the cream of the crop. it's basically the school acknowledging that their kid is the best of the best from the get out. so it makes the actual ability to get into midtown science highly competition and skewed toward wealthier families, because they're the ones that can afford these tutors. if you get 100% of your tuition waived? It's basically the school saying you were the absolute best and brightest of everyone we interviewed for your year. in every other year except for peter and mj's, those are almost exclusively kids who had been privately tutored for the exam. peter and mj had a target on their back from the start, not just because they were poor, but because they were poor and still better than all these kids who had to go home to parents who paid for a year and a half of private tutoring only for top billing to go to a couple of kids who just sort of showed up to the test. may and ben visibly had no idea what it meant that peter got full scholarship past "oh we're so proud" and "that means we can afford to send him here." it's like the family of Miss America showing up to the award ceremony thinking their kid won a little contest, good on them. MJ's parents didn't even come to the parent mixer. a lot of the really aggressive parents took this attitude as an insult and a way to feed their inferiority complex, which they projected onto their kids, who then turned around and took it out on peter and mj, who they perceive as having taken from them something they deserved more. that being said, ned's definitely on scholarship--probably 75% or so of his tuition is waived, which is good, because tuition would have been a big burden on his family otherwise. ned's family is definitely a lot better off than mj or peter's, but tuition gets expensive. i'd say pretty solidly upper middle class. he's never had to worry about rent money, because his grandma owns their house. he's always had enough where he can have pretty expensive lego sets. but his family isn't exorbitantly rich, just comfortable.

a few years back. they're like, 14 now? I say around 11 or so. beginning of middle school, when they both joined the midtown science district/feeder school. at first, they were just generally in the same class and knew each other in a distant sort of way, but they became close friends later. we'll go into that and how exactly they became friends in wayyy more detail later.

#the first step of kintsugi #pottery shards

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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

Text

New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years ago

Note

Omg I have an angsty request that I’m sure is going to rip my heart out and light it on fire. It’s a super long and specific request so sorry if I get carried away:

Okay so reader had an unspoken thing in the glade with Gally but then he “died” so over the course of the events of scorch trials she got closer with newt and they start their own unspoken thing. But then in the death cure, newt (realizing he has the flare) starts encouraging her to reconcile with gally because he knows that he’s gonna die and gally will take care of her? But she’s confused on who she loves but kinda clings to what she has with newt because he needs her. And she’s just heart b r o k e n over newt dying but gally helps put her pieces back together in the safe haven and eventually they have their fluffy first time together?

Thanks!

*Fanfare* *Triumphant Music* I finally finished this one! Sorry it took a while, I really wanted this to be perfect. But I think I'm quite happy with how this one turned out! I hope you like it too, sweet Anon. Btw, I know you wanted smut, but I just didn't think it would fit with this one. Sorry, maybe on the next one!

Over 5.2k words, so strap in for a long one y'all

Possible Trigger Warning: Self Harm

~~~~~~~~~~

During your time in the Glade, you were practically attached at the hip with Gally.

He was your best friend, your first go to whenever you had any issues, and you were the same to him.

After his supposed death, you felt a void in your soul. You took on a nihilistic attitude, nothing in life making sense anymore. You didn't care about what happened to you or around you, you wished you had died with Gally, the idea of it being welcomed with open arms.

The thought of dying brought no anxiety, no dread. Even the thought of dying painfully didn't scare you, you wanted it. Everyday you thought about that spear going through Gally's chest, wanting to feel what he must've felt. You wanted to feel the same pain and fear, you wanted to feel like you were dying too.

No rational side of you could explain why you felt this way. Perhaps, if you felt the same pain he felt, maybe it would give some sort of closure. Maybe it would make you feel like you were still close to him, even in death.

It wasn't too long before you decided to act on those feelings. You had been only a knife to your chest, right where your heart was, hyping yourself up to push the blade into your skin.

You didn't want to kill yourself, no. You wanted your death to be natural, not forced. You'd suffer your own existence until your time eventually came like it did for everyone else. But Newt didn't know this when he happened upon you that night, just a couple centimeters of a blade shredding its way into your skin.

Newt panicked, immediately stopping your from hurting yourself, his heart racing at the thought of being too late. But thankfully, he wasn't.

You tried to seem somewhat normal, but the laughter bubbling from your chest couldn't be withheld, making Newt fear that you had lost your mind. He wasn't too far off...

He knew how much Gally's death impacted you, he knew you were in pain every second of every day, but he never thought you'd go so far as hurting yourself. He just silently patched you up, fearing anything he would say from a good place would only upset you further.

Eventually, you explained why you had done what you did. It obviously didn't sit right with Newt. He wasn't particularly close with Gally back in the Glade, but he knew well enough that he wouldn't want you to be living with this mindset.

After a while in the Scorch, you stuck by Newt the most and you started to get better. You felt so empty after Gally's death, leaving a hole in your heart. Newt helped lead you out of that void, trying his best to fit that empty space. But you knew nobody could replace Gally, not even Newt. You knew that space could never be filled, but just seeing Newt try to be that person for you, it was too endearing not to pull at what heartstrings you had left.

Then the complications happened, so much time spent believing that Gally was dead came crashing down as he stood in front of you all, very much not dead.

You thought it had to be a dream, could he really be here?

It was strange. You thought you'd run to him, leap into his arms and kiss all over his face, but you didn't. You stood next to your friends awkwardly as he took off his gas mask. To think you'd be more outwardly happy that someone you cared about was still alive. But you couldn't help the guilt that you felt when Gally said that they left him to die. Sure, it might've not been specifically directed to you, but you felt the sharp sting of his words resonate through you. It almost felt like a strong invisible force hit your funny bone, the volt of uncomfortable aching pain spreading throughout your entire body and leaving you in a breathless agony.

For Gally, he was overjoyed to see you alive and well. He so badly wanted to go to you, feel you in his arms again. But he knew he couldn't, how could he after how he treated everyone back in the Glade?

He didn't remember a lot, but he knew he killed Chuck. The blurry memories of that day, he saw it every night in his dreams. He remembered the sound of the gunshot, the sudden pain in his chest and not being able to breathe. He saw Chuck laying beside him, his expressionless eyes trained on the ceiling, unmoving. His chest wasn't rising and falling like it should've been, blood seeping through his layers of clothing. The most purest soul Gally ever met was dead, and it was his fault.

Gally couldn't even bring himself to look in your direction, he was too disgusted with himself.

Thomas punching Gally wasn't a big shock, he knew he deserved it. But Newt quickly came to his rescue, stopping Thomas from acting out irrationally. But a part of Gally didn't want the Greenie to be stopped. Being punched wasn't something he enjoyed, but Gally would willingly endure whatever punishment that would be inflicted and he'd accept that he deserved it. But nothing he could do or say would bring Chuck back...

When Gally did finally force himself to look at you, he wish he hadn't. You looked indifferent, which never happened with you. He instantly thought that you hated him as much as Thomas did, but then again, he deserved it.

It was really tough for Gally to keep a conversation with everyone while he took them to see Lawrence, especially when he noticed how close you stuck by Newt. But, he supposed it was only natural to find another person to be close to when you've lost someone else, he still couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that bubbled up in his chest. He hated how good you and Newt looked together, you seemed...happy.

At the moment, you weren't even close to happy; you were confused, and angry.

It sounded terrible, but a part of you was angry that Gally was actually still alive. You had to go through the mourning process, and you hadn't even finished it and now all of a sudden, he was alive all this time. It put your emotions on haywire, the most you felt was confusion, and if someone would've told you what you were experiencing was some sort of a twisted dream, you would believe them. But your feet were too sore and sunburn too irritating for this all to be a dream.

You sensed Newt's eyes trained on you, you knew he was probably worried, but you couldn't decide what for. Was he worried that you'd go back to Gally? Was he worried you'd replace him now that he was still alive? Knowing Newt, he probably just wanted to talk to you, but even then, you would have no idea what to say. What do people feel or say in situations like this? You were certain not everyone has to go through the loss of a loved one just to find out that they weren't gone, right?

It was late, and you were exhausted, as was everyone else; but you stayed awake, attempting to sleep only causing you to toss and turn, and eventually giving up. But someone else was awake, you were shocked to see that it was Newt. "What're doing awake?" He asked, taking a seat next to you.

"Could ask you the same thing." You replied, only getting a look from Newt in response. "Couldn't sleep." You sighed, caving in to his concerned expression.

"I know it's not my place," Newt started, wringing his hands together nervously, "but, you haven't said a word to Gally." You knew he was going to bring that up, you had that feeling as soon as he saw you were still awake. "I know it was a shock, to all of us. But I thought it'd effect you the most, to be quite honest. You two were pretty close..."

You shrugged weakly, shaking your head. "I don't know what to tell you. Was I supposed to react a certain way? Was I supposed to drop to my knees and burst into tears or something?"

Newt grimaced. "No...of course you're not supposed to act a certain way. It's just a bit strange to me that you haven't tried to speak to him at all."

"I don't even know what I'd say to him." You chuckled bitterly.

"I know you and Gally had something, something special. That sort of thing doesn't just go away. You were absolutely gutted after what happened, this is a chance to reconnect. You care about him, a lot."

"Hey, that doesn't change the way I feel about you. I care about you a lot too."

Newt smiled weakly. "I know, but I really think you should go and talk to him."

You could tell he was being sincere, but you couldn't understand why. You two had grown close over the past several months, so why would he want you to reconnect with someone you used to be even closer with? You weren't really given the time to think over it more before Newt was quickly encouraging you to speak with Gally, telling you where his room was, somehow knowing this conversation would happen and finding out beforehand.

Just a few moments later, you found yourself outside of Gally's door, fist extended out to hover over the worn wood, but you couldn't bring yourself to knock. Thinking back to how hard you tried to avoid Gally when he came back, what if he thought you hated him? What if he didn't want to talk to you?

But before you could chicken out, you forced yourself to knock on Gally's door without thinking, soon hearing the thud of footsteps nearing. With bated breath, you waited for the door to open, anxiety gripping your mind so intensely that it almost triggered your fight or flight response. But Gally's almost hopeful and shocked expression when he saw you waiting relaxed you a little bit. "...hi." Gally voiced, the nervous and confused tone to his voice not going unnoticed by you.

"Hi." You replied, your voice probably just as shaky and nervous as his.

"Uh, come in." He said quickly, moving out of the doorframe, his hands slightly shaking when he motioned you to enter his room.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, so fast and hard that you were worried Gally would be able to hear it. Your hands were shaking, as well as your legs as you walked into his room, it was a miracle you didn't collapse right then and there. You tried not to jump as you heard the click of his door closing, you tried to take deep calming breaths before Gally turned to face you, the two of you almost on complete opposite sides of the room just standing awkwardly.

You stared at Gally, your gaze running up and down his body but ultimately stopping to stare at his chest. Tears quickly came to your eyes as you saw how healthy he looked, like a spear wasn't embedded in his chest months ago. You couldn't stop the flow of whimpers that came from your throat, putting your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. You felt your face start to burn as you felt Gally's arms wrap around you as soon as you started to cry, but his warmth comforting you only caused you to let out more tears.

You never thought you'd be in his arms again.

Gally stood there silently, holding you and just trying to soothe you as best he could. In the back of his mind, he was astonished that you even let him come near you, you had avoided him altogether up until this moment. But the whimpers he heard coming from you, seeing the tears spilling from your eyes, he instinctively went to hug you. He also couldn't ignore the guilt he felt, thinking that you were crying because of him. He hated it. But you hugged him back tightly, burying your face in his chest and trying to stifle your sobs.

"You're here..." You cried softly, "you're really here..."

Gally's lip trembled, tears of his own brimming his eyes at how much pain you must've been in thinking he was dead all this time, your voice giving away your feelings. He exhaled shakily, "I am here." He placed a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm here."

For a few minutes, you and Gally just held each other silently. You both needed this, understanding how badly you missed one another. Soon, you were able to calm yourself, but you still didn't pull away. Gally only pulled away slightly so he could see your face, frowning when he saw your eyes were puffy and tearstained. "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. "What happened wasn't your fault, Gally." You said genuinely. No matter how much pain and anger you felt about what happened to Chuck, you never once blamed him. You knew W.C.K.D. killed him, and every other Glader who died. But Gally's frown told you everything you needed to know; he still blamed himself.

"I should've gone with you." He whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "How can you even stand the sight of me?"

"Because I know you never would've killed anyone if you weren't stung, especially Chuck."

Hearing Chuck's name out loud made tears brim Gally's eyes once more, tightening his fists in anger at himself. "Chuck deserved so much better...he wasn't supposed to die..." He cried, causing you to pull him back into your embrace, rubbing his back while trying to not to cry again.

"None of us deserved to get experimented on."

Eventually, you lead Gally to sit next to you on his bed, holding his hand. It felt so right to be sitting there with Gally, you missed him so much that you despised ever feeling even the slightest bit of anger when you first saw that Gally was alive. But one emotion did not go away, you still felt confused.

While sitting there with Gally, you couldn't help but think about Newt. He was so adamant about you reconciling with Gally, was he hoping that something would happen between you two? You truly cared a lot about Newt, and you knew he felt the same way, so you couldn't understand why he was acting this way.

You sighed softly when you started to feel sleepy, standing up slowly. "I should probably head back."

Gally quickly stood up with you. "Uh, you could stay here if you want?" He stammered, causing you to smile a little.

"That's okay. I already had a sleeping bag set up for me downstairs, so..."

Gally tried to hide his disappointed frown, choosing to walk up to you until you two were face to face. Maybe it was too soon, but ever since he saw you, Gally had the strongest urge to place his lips on yours. He missed your soft lips that he only had the privilege of feeling a few times back in the Glade before everything happened. He gently grabbed hold of your jaw, tilting your face up and leaning forward slowly.

You wanted him, you wanted him so bad. But before his lips could connect, Newt's face popped up in your mind and you couldn't, you forced yourself to turn away.

You tried not to look at Gally's face, knowing that he'd probably look like a kicked puppy. You couldn't, it would be too painful. "It's Newt." Gally frowned, taking a step back.

Your eyes widened, finally taking a glance over to him to indeed see that his expression was one of disappointment and sadness. "I never said-"

"You didn't have to." Gally interrupted. "I see the way you look at him...it's how you used to look at me." You stayed silent, a feeling of guilt washing over you. "I don't blame you, Y/n, for finding someone else. I'd never expect you to grieve over me forever, that's too selfish."

Hearing this, you had a terrifying thought that you needed to voice out loud. "Did you ever find someone else?" You asked nervously, afraid of his answer.

"No..." He smiled weakly, "No one that could ever compare to you."

You hated that you felt relieved, you were the one who seemed to be selfish. But, you couldn't just drop what you had with Newt now that Gally's still alive. You couldn't say anything else, what could you say to that?

"You should get some sleep." Gally said, opening his door and motioning you to get out.

"Gally..." You whispered.

"Please. Just...we have a busy day tomorrow."

You sighed. You couldn't argue with him.

Newt watched you walk back downstairs, getting into your sleeping bag with a very prominent frown. Doesn't seem like it went well, he thought. He felt relieved and frustrated at the same time. Newt really cared for you, he could even go as far as saying he loved you, but he needed you and Gally to get back together, or become friends again at least.

It wasn't too long ago that Newt found out he had the Flare. He saw the black and purple veins slowly travelling up his arm, and the pain, the pain was the worst part. You had already gotten close to him, so he was heartbroken to know that you'd just lose another person you cared for. After Gally, he knew you wouldn't be able to handle another loss. So when Gally showed up out of the blue, it was like a miracle, Newt's prayers had been answered.

Newt felt jealousy, of course, he wanted to stay with you. He didn't want Gally to take you from him, but what use would he be when he was dead or a Crank? He tried not to be angry with you, it wasn't your fault how you were feeling, but he needed to know you'd be okay when he was gone.

Newt did try talking to you about it, but you always changed the subject or simply didn't answer him. Before you all knew it, it was time to start planning Minho's rescue mission. Thomas didn't want to use Teresa, and hearing that only made Newt's anger bubble to the surface.

It wasn't like Newt to lash out like that, he was always so calm and relaxed. Maybe the stress finally got to him, maybe it was something else...

You immediately followed after Newt when he stormed out after yelling at Thomas, not knowing that Gally's sad eyes were following you. You couldn't think of anything else, you just had to know that Newt was okay.

You found Newt on the roof, sitting on the ledge. "Newt?" You asked, concerned. "Are you okay...?" You stepped closer captiously, finally taking a seat next to him.

Newt only smiled bitterly. "No...no, not really."

You sighed, looking out to the horizon, trying to find the right words to say. "We all thought Teresa was our friend...it's okay to be angry."

Newt shook his head. "It's not that."

You furrowed your brows. "Then, why did you lash out at Thomas?"

Newt bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He never wanted you to find out this way. He didn't even want you to know. But after that scene he made, he knew there was no point in hiding it anymore.

Tears came to your eyes as Newt lifted up his jacket sleeve, revealing his discolored arm. You knew what it was immediately, seeing it on every Crank you came across. "No..." You whispered. "No."

"I know I probably shouldn't have kept it from you, but I was scared. I still am."

"We'll fix it!" You quickly said, it sounding more like a plead. "We'll find another cure!"

Newt only gave you a weak smile. "I don't think that's a possibility right now, love. Besides, Minho needs us."

"No, you're not allowed to give up like that, Newt. We'll find something to help you. If Brenda was cured, so can you. Teresa might-"

"Please, Y/n." Newt voiced sharply. "Please...just stop. I don't need false hope."

Before you could say anything else, you heard the roof access door open, Thomas walking up to the two of you. "Y/n, can I, uh, talk to Newt? Alone?"

You looked to Newt, who nodded, signaling for you to leave. You stood up, speed walking inside and down the stairs. The tears kept falling, blurring your vision, and you had no idea what to do. Newt was dying, and there was nothing that you could do about it, and it didn't seem like he was too eager to try and find a cure. You hoped Thomas could talk some sense into him. But in that moment, your feet subconsciously took you to Gally's little apartment. You stood in front of the door in tears, wishing that you didn't feel the urge to find comfort in him when Newt was sick. But, you knocked on the door, quickly placing yourself in Gally's arms as soon as he was in front of you.

Gally didn't know what was wrong, he barely got a good look at your face before you threw yourself at him. But the way you were shaking and whimpering, he knew you were crying, and he didn't have the heart to pull away from you. He walked backwards and shut his door, leading you to sit down on his bed with him. He just held you as you cried, leaning his head down on top of yours until you calmed down. He finally spoke when your cries were just quiet sniffles. "What happened?"

You exhaled a shaky breath, lifting your head to look at Gally. "Newt has the Flare..."

"W-What...?" Had Gally heard that right? Could his mind be playing tricks on him? He just assumed everyone that was in the Glade was immune, that's why they were there, right? But you repeated what you had said, confirming what Gally thought he heard. "I...I'm so sorry..." That's all Gally could say. He wasn't very well spoken in these types of situations, all he could do was bring you back into another hug.

You finally understood why Newt was pushing you to get close to Gally again; he wanted you to be close to someone when he died.

Yet another situation that had you confused. You knew you loved Gally, you always had, he was your best friend. But now you had Newt, he helped you through everything while in the Scorch, helped you try to overcome your grieve and probably saved your life multiple times. How could you possibly make a decision like this?

You and Gally never put a label on what you had in the Glade, and nobody asked either, not even Alby. You both just knew that you cared for one another, that you'd do anything for the other. But as time went on, you felt guilty knowing what you'd ultimately choose. It was always going to be a lose lose for you.

Newt needed you, and you couldn't leave him when he needed you the most.

Gally, deep down, knew what your decision was going to be. You had a big heart. You never would leave anyone behind, even if they were infected. Back in the Glade, Gally wouldn't have hesitated in sacrificing the few to save the many, but you were never like that. You cared about everyone, especially the people who were closest to you. You never were going to give up on Newt, you couldn't now. You would spend as much time with him as possible, what little time he might've had left. And you did, until he took his final breath.

You felt like you were a glass vase that had been shattered, and every time you tried to pick up the pieces, the glass would just cut deeper and deeper into your skin. It felt like life didn't want you to be put back together. Nothing felt real. Everything that happened in the Last City felt like a fever dream. You hoped that one day you'd wake up and you'd be back in the Glade, everyone was still alive. Maybe if you could go back in time, maybe you could save everyone, maybe you could've convinced Gally to listen to Thomas, maybe you could've held off Newt a bit longer in time for Brenda to give him the cure.

A lot of maybe's, a lot of hopes and prayers, never answered.

Now in the Safe Haven, you felt anything but safe.

You didn't talk to anyone for awhile, not even Gally. You had nothing to say, and you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone. So, you isolated yourself. And then a couple weeks later, you finally felt everything bubble to the surface.

Sitting down somewhere along the coastline, not too close to the water, but close enough that you could feel the salty breeze of the waves hit you gently as the evening cooled when the sun started to go set.

You tucked yourself up into a ball, your knees as close as you could get them to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them. And, you cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. The ugly kind of crying. Your tears weren't coming out one eye at a time in a perfectly straight line down your face like in the movies, you weren't making quiet sniffles or whimpers, you were full on sobbing. Tears came out of your eyes so fast that you could barely make out the sun on the horizon, your shirt sleeves were most definitely covered in snot and whatever salty tears it had the chance to catch. Your throat felt like it was being torn apart by how intense your sobs were. The sobs sounded more like you were having a coughing fit, one of those phlegmy hacking coughs that made you feel like you were going to vomit.

You knew you most likely weren't far enough away from the camp to quiet your weeping, and you knew you were just embarrassing yourself, arranging for yourself to be completely humiliated the next morning when you had to face everybody. But in the moment, you couldn't care less. You loss someone so important to you, it felt like losing Gally all over again. But you knew this time, it was final. No surprise resurrections this time. You felt completely, and utterly, alone.

But you never were.

You felt so dissociated and detached from yourself, the wails of grief too much for your body to handle. You couldn't feel anything around you, not the warmth of the sand, not the slight chill breeze, not even Gally's arms wrapped around you tightly. You didn't realize until you passed out from exhaustion, waking up the next morning in a bed that wasn't yours, and a hut that wasn't yours.

Your vision was still a little bit blurry, all the tears from the night previous crusting to the creases around your eyes, making it a bit of a challenge opening them all the way. But, your other sense were intact enough to tell you that bacon and eggs were next to you on a bedside table. You hadn't eaten the day before, so it was mostly a primal reaction to quickly take the plate and gobble up the food.

You still had to rely on context clues to figure out where you were in the camp. As much as your eyes irritated you, they could now finally work once you were wide awake. You probably should've known immediately who's hut it was, but seeing that familiar grey knitted hoodie settled ungracefully over the backrest of a chair, you knew it was Gally's.

You blushed quickly after that realization. How did he know where you were, and how much did he see? The thought of him seeing you in such a state made you cringe. But what was more horrifying was that Gally was right outside the room, waiting for you to wake up. "Hey..." He voiced, his eyebrows knitted in concern, eyes full of sadness.

You had to look away, the heat rushing to your face making you feel like you were going to pass out again. "Hi." You croaked, your vocal cords still sore and raw.

Gally shifted his weight nervously, taking a step closer to you. "I'm sorry, for bringing you here...I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself." You snapped you gaze back to him in confusion, him quickly blushing, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, Newt told me about what you did to yourself after...after the Maze."

You self-consciously rubbed the spot on your chest where a big scar still remained. "I wasn't trying to...you know, kill myself or anything."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you." He said softly, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

You sighed, crossing your arms. "I just...I didn't know what I was thinking."

Gally gently grabbed ahold of your hand, making you uncross your arms, letting his warm hand take yours. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. Newt should be here with the rest of us. He was a good person."

You nodded as tears came to your eyes again, burning enough to make you whimper, and you leaned your head against Gally's shoulder. "I miss him so much." You cried.

Eventually, you and Gally became close again. He was always there for you. Whenever you had nightmares, whenever you were lonely, whenever you needed anything, Gally would always be there. You started to feel your relationship had almost gotten back to the point where it was in the Glade, it had been almost a year, but you still felt it was too early to be moving on. A part of you didn't want to move on, but you knew that's not what Newt wanted either.

You didn't read the note Newt wrote to you when Thomas first gave it to you. The grief was still too near, and you didn't know if you could handle it. But a couple months after your breakdown, you finally read it. Newt loved you, he had always loved you. And he wanted you to be happy, he didn't want you to be sad that he was gone, even though he knew it would be impossible. But he knew you would be okay, he knew Gally would protect you no matter what. Reading his note was part of the reason you knew it would be okay to be with Gally, it just took you some time.

One day, you and Gally were taking a break from working, just sitting near the forest tree line, and you did it; you kissed him, and you couldn't stop, you didn't want to stop. And you didn't, and neither did Gally.

After that, it was almost impossible to spend any time away from each other.

You never thought you'd smile again, but Gally always found a way. He made you so happy, and it made you cry one night when you finally realized that you were happy, and you knew somewhere out there, it made Newt happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cries in Español

#the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #newt x reader #newt imagine #tmr newt #tmr gally #gally imagine #gally x reader #gally

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years ago

Text

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting Part 2

Hoodie

The area where you lived had a ton of back alleyways that acted as shortcuts in a pinch. They were generally safe but you often got an uncomfortable feeling when using them so you preferred to take the busier roads if you could.

Unfortunately, when you had gone to leave work that day, you had spotted the customer who had been harassing you the entire day. It wasn’t anything creepy but it was over-the-top persistent and you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. You slipped out the backdoor as a result. At least you’d get home sooner.

For the most part, you didn’t encounter anything too suspicious and the light from the streets illuminated where you were going.

The large bins outside the grocer’s home indicated that you were getting close. You sped up and rubbed your eyes blearily.

Ahead of you, a dog was barking from inside one of the buildings. It was a pretty noisy animal and you began peering around to see what the source of its agitation was. Ironically, you ended up bumping directly into him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, rubbing your shoulder.

The guy was tall, wearing dark clothing and standing right in the shadows. You could have probably noticed him if you were a little more awake.

He turned and your breath caught.

His face was obscured by a dark mask with red features stitched onto it. His hoodie which originally seemed dark was now illuminated into a soft yellow or orange, stained with a dark substance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice crackled out, clearly coming through a voice changer of some kind.

“I – I was just taking a shortcut home. I live near here so I thought… I really didn’t mean to bump into you. I’m super tired.”

“Tired or not, you shouldn’t have seen me,” the guy said. “Do you have a phone or a camera?”

Slowly, you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone. “I don’t have any cash in my wallet –“

“I don’t want your money!” he snapped. “I’m not some petty thief, believe me, I have better things to do with me time. Unlock this.”

You did so and he went through it with a gloved hand. He didn’t have a weapon but something in your gut warned you to just go along with it. Nobody covered up everything, including their voice, when they were up to something good. This guy may not be a thief… but the alternative didn’t feel too much better.

He shoved your phone back at you. “Get out of here and don’t breathe a word of this to anybody. Consider yourself lucky that I’m in a good mood today.”

You swallowed nervously. “Thank you?”

“I’m serious,” he warned. “I can let you go just because you seem pathetic enough to not take this to the police but unless you want to catch a bullet in your back, you’ll keep quiet. My boss doesn’t like people getting involved with this nonsense.”

“A bullet?”

He didn’t answer and your heart thundered in your chest. Part of you wondered if he was going to kill you while you ran away but his attention seemed to have moved away from you. You hurried away, holding your breath the entire time. Every time you glanced over your shoulder, the guy remained unmoving.

When you reached your home, you locked the door tightly and slumped against it in exhaustion.

Homicidal Liu

The sunset was beautiful over the graveyard – the only beauty to an otherwise morbid place.

You stared at the purples and oranges dancing across the sky. The wreath pricked at your hands after a while and you stared down at it. Why did you still bother with bringing flowers? Hadn’t it been long enough? Still, you made your way down to the grave and placed them there, not even bothering to read the name on there.

Lately, your graveyard visits had becoming fewer and fewer. Time hadn’t been on your side recently and thus, your precious solitude had to suffer. You relished in the way that nobody really bothered you here.

An orange glow warned you when the streetlights came on. Perhaps you had been there for longer than you thought but this was to be your last visit.

Better to make it count.

Something caught in the wind made you raise your head. A piece of fabric was stuck in the nearby fence, identifiable as a scarf when you ventured closer.

You took it from the fence and looked around for its owner. Nobody was in view… maybe it had been blown off one of the graves? It did seem homemade.

Guessing, you began to place it on a grave when a voice startled you.

“I’m sorry to bother but I think you have my scarf?”

The man was standing far too close for you to have not seen him when you were glancing around but you blamed that on your night vision. He wore dark clothing and seemed awkward just to be speaking to you.

“Thank goodness,” you said. “I was just going to leave it on one of the graves because I didn’t know who it belonged to.”

He thanked you for it, wrapping it around the lower half of his face almost immediately. “That would be a waste,” he said. “Especially to leave it on this one. Thank you for grabbing it.”

A harsh wind blew through the graveyard, carrying with it the smell of an incoming storm. He grabbed his scarf just in time to prevent it from going flying away again.

“Seems like the weather is determined to steal it from you.”

“Far more powerful things have tried.”

You buried yourself further into your jacket and smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before, are you new in town or just coming to visit a new grave?”

“I’m not visiting a grave,” he admitted. “I just thought that this would be the way back to my house… I grew up in this town but only recently moved back and I’m already lost. It’s a little embarrassing if I’m honest.”

“Well, I like to know everybody,” you said. “What’s your name?”

“Su – I mean, Liu,” he said. “Liu. Sorry, I nearly gave you my surname.”

You laughed. “Oh that’s no problem. It’s nice to meet you but I really like your name. Is it Chinese?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He looked around and began walking away. “I really have to go. Thank you for getting my scarf and all that.”

“I’ll see you around,” you said with a wave.

It was only later when you realised how suspicious that entire interaction was. You had never seen Liu before in your life and he was just hanging around in the graveyard? He hadn’t seemed too creepy at least. Maybe you would see more of him in the coming days.

Jane the Killer

It wasn’t that you were unobservant or inattentive toward girls but nobody had really caught your eye until Jane.

She was stunning in a way that few people could ever match with dark hair that tumbled past her hips and soulful eyes. Her walk was always confident, her smile always perfect, and her attention always desirable. Your main regret about life was that you didn’t speak to her sooner – especially when you thought back on what happened not too long after your first meeting.

You organised with your friends to somehow bump into her but instead, you wound up getting treated for a pretty painful bruised hip. Your second plan didn’t work out either and your third never even left the drawing board.

“Just go up to her and say hi. Tell her that she’s beautiful,” your friend encouraged. “She’ll say thanks and then you’ll be able to talk to her.”

“That’s so boring though,” you said. “It’s not like something out of a romance novel.”

Your friend groaned and stood up. “Well, I’m going home. We have like three months left of high school and I’m not going to spend that time obsessing over how to speak to a girl. She’s literally a regular person.”

They were right and you knew that. No matter how you tried to set up a sweeping romance, it probably wouldn’t work out.

So you tried.

And you tried.

Two weeks later, you were about to give up on mimicking a romance novel and it appeared that your friend was thinking the same thing. She grabbed your arm and began to drag you somewhere, muttering about changing the topic. You had a vague idea of where you were going but you didn’t fight too much.

“What if she’s still dating that Woods boy?” you asked. “The older one.”

“They broke up after literally a month of dating. I don’t blame her – those Woods boys are pretty enough but the older one has something seriously wrong with him. And the younger one is always talking to himself…”

“I really don’t care about the Woods’,” you commented.

“No, you care about Jane who is honestly quite weird as well,” they said. “But that is going to be your problem and not mine.”

They dragged you directly up to her group. It wasn’t large – despite Jane’s beauty, she wasn’t incredibly popular due to her associations. Your friend wasn’t the only one who was a little scared of the Woods boys and Jane had hung out with them for quite a while.

“Hey,” your friend said before even letting you go. “You have no idea who we are but my friend here has a massive crush on you. Could you please just say hi so they can get it out of their system?”

You were sure that it was unhealthy to be as red as you were. It felt like your heart was about to leap from your chest.

Jane laughed, a soft and gentle sound. “I’m not really interested in a relationship,” she hummed. “But thank you. That’s very flattering.”

Somehow, your heart sped up still and you awkwardly rubbed your arm. “No problem?”

“Why don’t you join us for a little bit?” Jane offered. “Just because I don’t want to date anybody doesn’t mean that we can’t become friends. You look like my kind of person.”

You stumbled over your words but somehow, your conversation managed to go extremely well. Jane was brilliant in every possible way and you quickly grew attached to seeing her every day. That was why you mourned so greatly when she died.

Jason the Toymaker

The sun was so warm against your skin. You could stay there forever, stretched out on the grass and basking in the sunlight.

“It’s done,” your friend’s voice broke through your daydreaming

You opened your eyes and rolled over to see exactly what they had been working on for the entire trip. After realising the first few times that you weren’t going to get a reaction, you had decided to wait for them to finish working before you tried to have a conversation.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” you said. “That’s amazing.”

The hyper-realistic man was sketched to perfection with a top hat, a fur coat, and a small mouse sitting on his left shoulder. It felt like his eyes could piece into your soul.

“Who is that?” you asked them.

They stared blankly at the image and shook their head. “I don’t know,” they said. “He’s been in my dreams for so long. I think it has something to do with my amnesia. Maybe I knew him once before.”

“He’s a little intimidating,” you said. “I could imagine him to be a ringleader in a circus that’s like a secret cult. Maybe he’s why you lost your memory.”

“Maybe…” they said, tapping the picture. They suddenly shoved it into your chest and stood up. “You keep that. I don’t want it anywhere near me. I need to go talk to my parents.”

You watched them race out of the park in confusion. The man in the picture stared up at you with haunting eyes.

Folding it in half so it didn’t freak you out, you stood and dusted off your clothing. Maybe it would be best if you headed home. It was getting late either way.

Later on, you’d call your friend and check up on them.

About 10 minutes away from your house, the feeling of being watched snuck up on you. It hung heavily around your shoulders like a cloak. You glanced around but saw nobody.

Still, you didn’t feel comfortable leading whoever was following you back to your house. You made a point of walking amongst large crowds and headed for the police station.

They were watching you the whole way.

You sped up. A few people bumped into you and you apologised as best as you could. Your grip on the picture was getting tighter enough for you to tear it. The later it got, the fewer people were on the streets and so you were pretty much alone when you bumped into him.

It took you a few seconds to recognise the man from the drawing.

If you thought his drawn eyes were captivating, they had nothing on his real ones which glowed with an almost ethereal light.

“You’re him,” you breathed.

He stared at you, smile falling from his face in confusion. “Who?”

You shakily held out the drawing and he yanked it from your hands. “My friend drew that,” you explained. “They said that its of somebody from their past. They have amnesia you see.”

He was unmoving as he studied the picture. You began feeling a little uncomfortable and then his gaze snapped to you. “Is that so?” he asked.

You nodded and took a small step away from him. “Maybe you should go and talk to them? See –“ you swallowed nervously. “See if you can help them remember?”

“No need,” he said, dropping the paper on the ground. “Who are you?”

Your name came out as little more than a soft whisper. Something about the entire scenario made you uneasy. His appearance was too unnatural.

A gust of wind came by, picking up the drawing and whipping it away. You watched it go and when you looked back down, his eyes were locked on you.

“Such a pity,” he said. “You would have been the perfect doll.”

Wearily, you took a step backwards. His words made your stomach churn uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled. It was kind and warm but it only made you more nervous. His eyes looked like they had almost changed colour; shifted a shade darker than previously. “Thinking aloud my dear,” he said.

“About dolls?” you asked.

He tilted his head a little towards you. “I’m going to have to bid you goodbye. It seems I have other matters to attend to.” He brushed past you, stopping briefly when directly next to you. “Consider yourself lucky.”

He was gone before you could even spin around to face him.

Jeff the Killer

Pausing the song, you removed your earphones as quietly as possible and placed them down on your desk. According to the blinking numbers on your phone screen, it was nearing 2 AM. Far too late for anybody to make an excess of noise.

You listened closely. The music had been too loud for you to hear anything and you almost brushed the strange noise off as your sleep-deprived imagination. Until something squeaked like shoe soles on tiles.

In retrospect, you should have immediately called 911 but you didn’t want to sound a false alarm.

The light switch was thankfully directly outside your room. The hall illuminated most of the house when they were on and it steeled your nerves. Your roommate’s door was open, allowing you to confirm their sleeping state, curled up in their bed amongst the piles of mess. They had had to move to the spare room due to a faulty window earlier in the day and had clearly given up sorting items.

You glanced into the apartment’s other rooms before heading to the kitchen. There was nothing odd. The scuttling when you entered the kitchen just suggested that your neighbour’s rat infestation may be migrating.

Making a mental note to call the exterminator, you turned to switch off the kitchen light.

Something slammed into you, forcing your back to collide with a wall. A hand covered your mouth and the overwhelming scent of blood and decay invaded your nose. Something cold and sharp pressed against your neck.

“Shut up and stay still,” the man snarled at you. “I don’t think anybody will appreciate you getting blood in the kitchen.”

Your heart leapt into your throat and your body stilled. The man in front of you was terrifying. His skin pale and mutilated. Eyes far too wide for a normal person and dancing with an insanity that sent chills down your spine.

And his mouth… a bloody smile carved across his face, stretching halfway to his ears.

He studied your face carefully and his expression twisted. “You’re not the right one,” he snapped. The knife moved away from your neck, so he could point with it. “I had this all planned and yet when I came into that room, I found it empty. Why?”

Even if he hadn’t been holding your mouth shut, you doubted you would have been able to formulate an answer. The pounding heartbeat in your ears was nearly blocking out his voice.

He lightly tapped your cheek with his knife. “Not that it matters,” he said. “I’ll just have to adapt my original plan. You’re not the right target but I’m a huge fan of collateral damage.”

A small whimper escaped you and tears welled at your eyes. You didn’t want to die.

“Don’t blubber!” he ordered. “View it as a good thing. You’ll be all over the news. Another victim of Jeff the Killer. Hell, you might even be added to a Wikipedia page or something.”

You could recall that name from the news. Often followed by a lengthy list of deaths and the police chief begging for any information about the murderer.

Jeff stared at you for a long minute before he pressed the knife’s blade to your throat and moved his hand away from your mouth. “Scream and I will remove your vocal cords,” he threatened. “Who are you?”

It took several deep breaths and a flicker of impatience in his expression to give you the ability to talk again. You stammered out your full name as quickly as you possibly could.

He rolled his eyes and tilted the knife so it scratched your skin. A sticky and warm substance ran down your throat in small droplets. “Pathetic.”

“Sorry,” you whispered on instinct. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You ruined my earlier plans to take out my original target by interrupting me before I could find them. Why shouldn’t I settle for you instead?”

You didn’t have an answer.

He took the blade away from your throat. “If you call the police and report what happened here tonight, I will slice you into little pieces.”

It was almost twenty minutes after he left before you regained any movement in your body. You slumped into a heap on the kitchen floor and started sobbing.

Kagekao

Things had been going missing around your house.

Initially, you had thought it was just due to you forgetting where you’d plopped things because it was simple things. Drinks that vanished, keys turning up on the opposite side of the house, and random spills that you didn’t remember making.

But then it started getting weirder still.

You would make food and pack it away, knowing that you would eat it later, and find it gone. Picture frames disappeared, never to be seen again. Your rug half-unraveled during the night and you found it in a pile the next morning. A candle in your bathroom fell over and, somehow, the curtains on the other side of the house had caught alight.

It was suspicious, to say the very least. You began to think that you had some kind of intruder – once, the news reported that a woman found a homeless man living in her attic and eating her food when she wasn’t looking.

So you went out and bought cameras, setting them up throughout your house.

For two weeks, they caught nothing until one of them ended up breaking. You went to get it repaired and the company managed to recover what it had last seen. Which was nothing on your first glance.

But you were soon to realise, that was only because you had been looking at the floor.

While you were rewatching when you got home, you noticed something. The window was sitting wide open and the camera’s angle only allowed you to see half of it. Right toward the end of the feed, a gloved hand appeared on the side of the window and a slight shadow indicated something climbing through.

So you got reinforced windows and made sure that none were open unless you were in the room.

Things still continued happening.

You were beginning to get really annoyed by this. It was tempting to go to the police and let them just handle it but that was going to be a lot of effort that you really didn’t care for. You didn’t feel like you were in much danger. Nothing had happened in your bedroom.

Your next plan was to set up a trap of some kind. With a hidden camera set up, you made extra food and left it on the counter to see if something happened.

The next day, you watched as a plastic toy of some kind was thrown directly into the plate from somewhere off-camera, breaking it and leaving an absolute mess everywhere.

Still not considering it to be anything dangerous, you just cleaned up the mess and loudly cursed out anybody who was listening. You stalked the house after that, searching every nook and cranny with a bat in hand. The final place was the closet in your bedroom and you peered in, expecting nothing.

When you turned around though, you spotted something sitting in the corner of the room.

It was humanoid with arms twisted into awkward positions and a mask on its face. Half the mask was black and the other white, both sides bearing an unnaturally smiling expression. The creature cackled when you saw it and scuttled out of the door, stuck to the roof the entire time.

A second passed.

Then another.

You pinched your arm hard and waited to wake up. Surely there was no way… I mean, why would… humans didn’t generally crawl along the ceiling? Well, you were quite sure they never did that. You must have been imagining it.

A second laugh corrected you on that.

You swallowed thickly, walked over to your door as calmly as possible and locked it. Then you took out your phone and finally called the police.

Kate the Chaser

The day when Kate was sent away remained very clear in your mind. It was a moment that brought extremely change to your life, mixing up your friend group and sending you in a different direction.

The years has passed and you had never gotten over your best friend. They said that she had lost her mind and you knew it was true. All those games investigating the woods and ghost hunting must have put a toll on her mind. Sometimes, you blamed yourself for all the pranks and you knew that Lauren had similar doubts.

And now she was back.

Lauren and you hadn’t remained close, the entire situation feeling too real with one another. Your greeting was stilted but neither of you wanted to be the first to approach the house.

“Do you think that she remembers us?” Lauren asked.

“If she didn’t then her mom wouldn’t have invited us over,” you said.

You stood in complete silence, staring up at the house. Would you even recognise Kate? The last time that you had seen her was when you were both young children and her face remained at that age in your memories.

Eventually, you gained your confidence before Lauren and you walked over, knocking on the door before anxiety could find you.

Kate answered the door and you forgot why you had ever been nervous.

Time had slimmed her face and shortened her hair. Her eyes were still a gentle brown and the cockiness had faded from her smile, but it was recognisable from your nostalgia. It made you feel warm and known – an aura that you had missed without even realising it.

“Hi,” you greeted.

Kate pulled you into a tight hug and you returned it, clutching at her tightly as though she could slip through your fingers. It really had been too long and when you moved away, she held onto Lauren with the same enthusiasm.

“How have you been?” she asked. “You have to tell me everything.”

The three of you spent the rest of the afternoon having tea and just talking about the world at large. Kate didn’t have many stories from the hospital – she claimed it was because the place had been extremely boring and neither of you pushed to find out more about it. Honestly, it was more comfortable to act as though she had simply moved away.

Lauren had to leave first and you were going to go with her but Kate had looked so down that you remained just a little longer. That was when things got weird.

“I’ve missed music a lot,” Kate sighed.

“Did they not allow you to listen to music?”

She grimaced. “No, they did but often I couldn’t hear it over the static. Its mostly gone away now but it came back last night… it fills my brain and all that I can think of is a way to make the pain stop.”

The colour drained from your face as you stared at her. You didn’t know much about what happened to her but you had thought she would be okay now.

Realising it, Kate hurried to reassure you, “I really have recovered,” she said. “My hallucinations have faded and my medication keeps my emotions in check. You really don’t have to be scared of me.”

You stared down at your cup awkwardly. “I’m not scared of you,” you reassured her. “You’ve never done anything to me.”

She nodded. “It will be alright, you’ll see. I’m ready to get back to a normal life with my friends and not have to worry about that ghost stuff ever again.”

Laughing Jack

It was on your leg…

The glare you fixed the small child with could wilt plants. It didn’t care though and merely clutched at your clothing with a happy smile. “Come play with me?” it asked. “I can introduce you to all my friends!”

“How old is she again?” you grumbled at your friend.

Your friend laughed and ruffled their cousin’s hair. “I had an imaginary friend when I was 10. She’s only 6, she’s still at the stage where they’re a big deal.”

The child was oblivious to your conversation and reached out her arms. “Come on. The parents are being boring. I have candy that my friend gave me. We can share it.”

“I agreed to come along to your family get together to keep you company,” you said to your friend. “You know I don’t like children. Babysitting really isn’t my forte.”

All you received for your complaining was laughter.

By the time you had the 4th teddy bear had been introduced, you were done. Why did one kid have so many toys?

“Now which one of your friends gives you candy?” your friend asked. “Because if it’s from Princess, I don’t think it’s edible. What if she secretly puts glitter in it?”

Expected to play along, you sighed. “Unless it’s glitter from rainbows because then it’s got magic powers and allows you to fly.”

The child liked your thumb-sucked statement because she jumped up in excitement. “I don’t get it from Princess. Jack gives it to me! But if Princess can make me fly, I want to have that kind of candy instead!”

“Which one’s Jack again?” you asked, eyeing the line of toys.

“He’s not here right now,” the child said, biting her inner cheek. She turned in a circle. “Sometimes he hides in the cupboard though!” She ran over to her cupboard and pulled the doors open. “I don’t think – OW!”

She reeled backwards, clutching her cheek. Both you and your friend immediately jumped up and ran over to her. A tiny slice mark ran across the side of her face. It wasn’t anything serious, but she was sobbing as though it would kill her. You presumed a small edge on one of the boxes in the cupboard had been the cause.

“Do you want me to take you to mom, so she can kiss it better?” your friend asked. “Your new best friend can wait here and make sure all your toys are safe.”

The child nodded, and she got led out of the room. You rolled your eyes at the sensitivity and reached into the cupboard to push the box out of the way. A clawed hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed your wrist tightly.

Before you could even shout, it lifted you off the ground by your arm and a second hand had wrapped around your mouth.

The monster’s body appeared out of the closet.

It was a clown. Easily 7ft tall and comprised of monochrome colours with a sharp, pointed nose and long, greasy hair. Its black lips spread into a smile, revealing pointed teeth and a sickeningly sweet breath.

You writhed against its grip, trying to scream or do anything but it was insanely strong, and it just laughed at your efforts.

“How mean,” it purred, leaning in close to your face. “You ask who I am and then, when I appear to you, you insult my appearance. Awful etiquette. Your parents should be concerned about how rude you are to strangers.”

You strained your memory to think about what you had been doing before it grabbed you but the adrenaline was clouding your mind. What had you asked? You struggled more with the lack of memories.

The clown shook its head. “I haven’t revealed myself to somebody so old in a long time. You should be flattered but instead you choose to try and kick me. This is why I don’t do this. Children are far more polite.”

He released you suddenly and you landed hard on the ground. It winked and disappeared, right as your friend and her cousin returned.

“You met Jack!” the child shouted excitedly, pointing to the candy lying next to you.

You shoved it away from you as quickly as possible.

#creepypasta #scenarios #hoodie x reader #marble hornets #homicidal liu #jeff the killer #jane the killer #jason the toymaker #kagekao #x reader #jeff the killer x reader #laughing jack #kate the chaser

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snifflesthemouse · 3 years ago

Text

There's a sense of freedom that comes with anonymity of online interactions. This sense of freedom only exists because of the fact it's difficult for the real world to catch up with you in your real life. Unless of course, you go after the wrong one.

When a person goes after someone else solely because they think differently or have a strong opposing opinion, they often do so with a false gusto and bravery that only exists in the virtual realm. Like many say online, "You'd never say that to my face." And that's true for most people... but not all people.

And because of this anonymity, that affords all internet users the freedom to say whatever, a real life concern spawns from a virtual world. This real life concern is often referred to as "doxxing" where one internet user uses what clues and resources they have available to "expose" another internet user's real life. This has happened to many people I watch on YouTube. Some have even had to involve the real life police, as well as uproot their entire lives and move because of doxxing.

For example, Murky Meg has been doxxed a couple times now. She's had her real life threatened by doxxing. Terrifyingly, she wasn't the only target threatened because the douche flutes also brought her children into it. Yes, the same people who worship the Montecito Madam and preach the mantras of "compassion and kindness" and "leave children out of this" have gone so far as to go after Murky Meg's real life and real life children. And sadly, the threats and attacks never really stop. Especially when articles like the one I wrote about make the rounds. But Murky Meg doesn't allow this all to silence her; she keeps calm and carries on regardless.

Another example involves Yankee Wally. She was targeted repeatedly over copyright infringement on her YouTube channel, as well as having her social media accounts suspended repeatedly over the last few years. And even though Yankee Wally has never pretended to be anything or anyone else than who she is in real life, people have attempted to use her past as a weapon to discredit her. Those attempts are futile, though, because Yankee Wally has always been open and honest about her life. She's also been very clear to the people watching her that she will fight back if need be.

Then there's According2Taz. While Taz has gone through the same ringer that so many others have gone through (from doxxing to threats, harassment, and verbal abuse), she has also been attacked financially. Especially when it comes to her supporting good causes. Some twat waffles have sent her £0.01 via PayPal with notes attached. Notes that are grossly abusive, calling her fat and ugly, and saying her husband is cheating on her. Others have sent requests asking her to pay them £100 with notes attacking HRH Catherine the Duchess of Cambridge and her book. Murky Meg got a similar request, as well. But the most heinous impediment coming from the Montecito Madam's extremists, involved charity. Once, when Taz was raising money for Australian wildlife affected by the wildfires; someone reported her PayPal account and those funds were held up for some time before getting released for the cause. Then, again, Taz was targeted when she was raising funds to help an elderly woman who got robbed. Yes, the very same people, who stand on custom-made soap boxes emblazoned with the Sussex monogram, did everything they possibly could to marginally disrupt charity. Yet Taz does not waiver; she keeps going.

As bad as Murky Meg, Yankee Wally, and Taz have had it, they're sadly not alone. No, they are only three examples from a plethora of examples. Of that plethora, one more example comes to mind. That example involves DanjaZone (Ashli).

Ashli, who started her YouTube channel before the whole Megxit ordeal as a way to keep in touch with family, was even the subject of a blind item from CDAN (crazy days and nights). You see, Ashli and her family lost everything they had in a horrible house fire. Rumors swirled around the fire, but the most heinous comments came from the Sussex Squad's more prominent loudmouths. Some accused Ashli of lying about the fire in an attempt to scam people for money. Others called her white trash and trailer trash. So while Ashli was going through the loss of her home and everything she owned... while she was grieving the loss of family pets and irreplaceable family mementos... while she was down and out on her luck and trying to cope with all the pain and loss... while she was going through all of the attacks from doubters saying she faked the fire or was lying, that she was trailer trash... the disciples of the Duchess were laughing and celebrating her pain as a win. Never once considering the fact that Ashli has been in recovery for years now, and the stress from the fire coupled with the heartless, feckless attacks, could in fact push her over the edge.

No, the very same people, who scream via CAPS lock on social media that critics of Meghan should "leave her alone", that her critics drove the Montecito Madam to "suicidal ideation while pregnant" could care less about Ashli's mental health. Yes, the very same people, who lodged over 50,000 OFCOM complaints against Piers Morgan because he questioned their beloved's outlandish attacks during the Oprah interview, previously found no issues with attacking Ashli during one of the hardest times in her life. Yet, Ashli picked up the pieces and never gave up or gave into their attacks.

Again, these four examples are just the tip of the hypocritical iceberg. There are countless more examples out there. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people who criticize Meghan's and Harry's behaviors can all relate. Nobody is safe or off limits from this iceberg; from Royal Rota reporters, celebrities, and politicians to regular people who aren't rich, famous, or in possession of a global platform.

Yet nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody, in the media or in journalism ever cover any of this. You can find articles galore written with the intentions of exposing "Meghan Markle Haters". Articles like the one I wrote about attacking critics and reducing us all to the stereotypes of racist, misogynist, bigot, envious, etc.

What that does is send a clear, prominent message to the people who cling to every word of the Montecito Madam. The people who cling to the wind coming from her mouth, her "close friends" or fake "palace insiders" hear those dog whistles loud and clear. The dog whistles that say "It's okay, keep attacking and hurting people. They're evil, hateful racists. They deserve the abuse. You're on the side of good. Go harder!"

When in truth, the wind they cling to coming from their beloved's mouth or mouthpieces is actually falsehoods, lies, and manifestations of grandeur that is no more real than Netflix's The Crown. No, the wind they cling to really comes from the south mouth of their beloved. But God forbid anyone hold their little cult accountable.

We cannot have a society where sensationalism trumps truth. We cannot weaponize the press and use it against people simply because they criticize the Meghan Markles of the world. It is unacceptable for the press, media platforms, or anyone with a prominent influence on society, to celebrate defenders of the Meghan Markle faith without first acknowledging the truth.

The truth, which is often dream dashing and harsh, is that "Meghan Markle Lovers" could care less about compassion, kindness, charity, children, or community. The truth is, they could care less about forgiveness or loving thy neighbors. We don't have to look to their savior figurehead to prove this to be true. We only have to look at the comments section or Twitter.

Those of us who criticize or dislike Meghan and Harry because of their behavior know all too well the truth will never be written up on the front page of the Sun, the Daily Mail, or People Magazine. The mirage of us being the racists, misogynists, or detesting haters sells papers. And the papers don't want to be in that same category.

Maybe one day the press will tell the stories of people like Murky Meg, Yankee Wally, Taz, Ashli, and countless others in an effective way that exposes the real haters in the relationship. Maybe one day, the victims of the Montecito Madam's cult following will be doxxed, exposed, and sent a new message. A message that says, "We see you for the hypocrites you are. You may repeat the preachings of your Madam like it's the new woke gospel, but you don't practice it. You're a big reason why people loathe your beloved. You make her look worse. You aren't defending her, you are condemning her. Keep it up, because we see you and we will expose you!"

If only...

#murky meg #yankeewally #according2taz #DanjaZone #megxit

295 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

Outrunning Fate

As promised (though I am more than a little late for Shiratorizawa Week), the soulmate AU

Tendou x female reader x Ushijima

TW stalking, possessive behaviour, implied non-con

Soulmates were supposed to be a blessing.

It was a fairytale that you’d grown up hearing about. One person who was supposed to be wholly yours.

Your parents were soulmates, even if you hadn’t always understood the concept, the proof of that remarkable, unshakable bond was always right in front of you. It wasn’t in the big grand gestures, it was little things - the soft, adoring look in your father’s eye as your mother passed him his coffee every morning, the way she always sought out his touch when they were together, even if it was just to twine her fingers with his, or the way that they always seemed to be able to sense when the other was upset, and wordlessly found the perfect way to comfort them.

Your father never had to tell you that he loved your mother, but he did, every single day. He told her too, just to see her smile.

It seemed effortless, easy, as if their love for one another was as natural as breathing. How could you be blamed for looking at your bare wrist, waiting for the day that name would appear in scrawling black ink, feeling that excited fluttering in your chest because you knew one day you’d meet your soulmate and have that perfect, fairytale love all for yourself.

Except it wasn’t like that.

Something went wrong.

***

You’re fifteen and barely paying attention in class when your skin prickles uncomfortably. Your heart leaps into your chest as you tug up the sleeve off your blazer, watching wide eyed with bated breath as a name appears on your wrist.

Tendou Satori.

The beginnings of a smile start to curl at your lips, but it freezes in place as more inky black writing appears below the first.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

A second name.

And suddenly, it feels like your perfectly crafted world begins to fall apart. Two soulmates aren’t unheard of, but they’re incredibly rare and you can’t deny that there’s a certain… stigma attached to it.

What kind of a person isn’t satisfied with just one?

This is supposed to be some magical, thrilling moment for you, but instead all you can focus on is the pounding of your heart and the growing wave of nausea that rises in the back of your throat. Quickly you yank your sleeve back down and before you can even think to stutter an apology to your bewildered teacher, you’re out of your seat and sprinting down the hallway to the bathroom. You barely make it before hurling up your guts.

After that, you start wearing long sleeves wherever you go.

It’s not that you’re ashamed, you tell yourself as you bite your lip and try your utmost to fade into the background whenever the topic comes up in conversation, it’s just that… other people aren’t always so accepting.

You’ve tried to get used to the disgusted looks, the invasive questions and the insults that follow you wherever you go, but it’s easier said than done. You hate that your cheeks still burn scarlet whenever you catch someone staring at your marks, almost as much as you hate the way you quickly duck your head in shame and race to fix your sleeve.

‘It’s okay, honey. I know it’s not what you expected but… it just means there’s one more person out there waiting to love you with everything they have. You’re twice as lucky as the rest of us,’ your father had told you on that horrible day. You just wished it hadn’t sounded like he was trying to convince himself at the same time.

***

You’re seventeen and the first boy who kisses you tries to shove your hand down his pants because he knows you’ve got two names on your wrist, and that means you’re up for anything, right?

You run home with tears streaming down your face and when you shower that night you scrub at the marks like you’re trying to erase them entirely.

What did having two names mean really? That one wasn’t enough? Would they be content sharing you? Would they even know of the other’s existence?

You could only imagine how horrifying it would be for them, spending months, years waiting for you only to realise that they didn’t really have all of you…

Would they hate you? Could you even blame them if they did?

Sometimes… sometimes you think it might be better if you didn’t have a soulmate at all, instead of this. It’s easier just to ignore it, pretend they don’t exist, pretend that you’re not gonna ruin their lives. Who knows, maybe you’ll be one of those few who never actually meet their soulmates. You can live with that, you think. You have a family who love you, a bunch of close friends who’d die for you - who needs stupid soulmates?

***

It’s the morning after your 18th birthday, your head is still pounding from the alcohol and bad decisions from the night before when your curiosity finally gets the better of you. It’s the modern age, most people live their lives online, you figure you’ll find a facebook page, a twitter account maybe.

Instead, the first item that comes up in your search is a video. It’s a news segment about a volleyball game - some high school team that you’ve never heard of, but you listen to the commentator talk and your heart leaps into your throat because they mention the Ace by name and suddenly there he is. Tall, dark haired and imposing - Ushijima Wakatoshi.

But you don’t even have a moment to breathe, to focus on the absolute beast that is your second soulmate and his terrifying spike because the camera shifts and suddenly there’s another player in focus. Tall, gangly with bright, spiky red hair and a too-wide grin, “-not the only player in the spotlight after today’s match; Shiratorizawa’s middle blocker, the so called ‘Guess Monster’ Tendou Satori-”

You close the browser window and slam your laptop shut.

They’re… friends, or teammates at the very least.

It feels like a bad dream you can’t wake up from. This whole thing is already messy enough, but you can’t get in the middle of that, you refuse to make everything worse for them just because the fates have decided to play a cruel joke on you.

If there were any lingering doubt left in your mind that you’re better off burying your soulmates, they’re well and truly put to bed.

That night, you dream of a cheering crowd, the thwack of a volleyball ricocheting off a vinyl floor and two menacing figures looming over you.

With your final exams around the corner, it’s almost too easy to put the video and your soulmates out of your mind as you throw yourself into studying. Months pass in the blink of an eye and suddenly you’re dressed in black robes and holding your high school diploma. You celebrate with your friends, dancing wildly with a care-free grin long into the night because you know you’re finally getting out of there for good. Tokyo’s a big city, you’ll lose yourself there and nobody, not a single damned soul, will know about the two names that grace your wrist. It’s as close to freedom as you’re ever gonna get - and god that makes you so fucking happy.

Your bags are packed and you’re holding your parents as they sob and then, like that, you’re gone.

Tokyo awaits.

***

It’s not that easy to outrun fate.

Living in Tokyo ain’t cheap, even for the shitty little shoebox apartment you rent while you’re studying. You manage to find a job at one of the Americanised diner style cafes just down the road from where you live two weeks after moving in. It’s popular with students because it’s open till late, the coffee’s good and the waffles are exactly what the doctor ordered after a long night of drinking with your friends. You’re just happy because the pay’s pretty decent and your boss lets you bring in your laptop and textbooks so you can study when it’s not too busy. You’re not nearly as thrilled about the short, revealing blue dress that serves as your uniform, but you know when to pick your battles.

It’s a little after one o’clock on a slow Tuesday night, the cafe’s almost empty and you’re propped up on your elbows along the countertop, absentmindedly thumbing through one of your assigned readings for class tomorrow when you hear the tell-tale chime of the door opening.

You hastily shove your books aside, plastering a wide if not a little artificial smile across your face, you glance up to greet the customers, only to freeze in place.

Your heart skips a beat.

Of all the cafes in the sprawling city, of course your soulmate has to walk into this one.

With his wild, spiked red hair and easy, sloping grin, Tendou’s unmistakable as he strides through the cafe with two other guys you can only assume are his friends. You suppose you should be a little relieved that he barely spares you a glance as the threesome make a beeline for one of the corner booths, but it’s hard to feel anything other than blind panic at the sight of your soulmate only a few feet away. It’s purely out of habit that you reach for your wrist and the skin coloured bandage hiding your traitorous marks, and you allow yourself to breathe the tiniest sigh of relief when you feel it still in place.

A loud cackle bursts through the quiet atmosphere of the cafe and you dart a glance over to see Tendou with his head thrown back laughing at something one of the others has said. There’s an uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach and your cheeks redden just a touch. It’s not an awful sound (not at all), but your pulse is racing and you think you just might be sick because this is all… too much.

You’d left them in the past along with whatever fairytale fantasies you thought having a soulmate would bring. You… you’re happy being alone and coping just fine without either one of them! They were a dream - a distant possibility you’d long since locked away, you weren’t supposed to ever actually see them!

At least it’s only Tendou, you think you might actually combust if they were both here. Still, there’s a faint tremor in your hand as you brush a lock of hair out of your face and try to regain control of your breathing.

As much as you’d like to run, or preferably, have the earth suddenly open up and swallow you whole, you know you can’t. For one, you’re the only server left until close and your boss might be easy going but somehow you doubt he’d let you keep your job after a stunt like that. More importantly, you have a sinking suspicion that causing a fuss will only draw his attention and that’s the last thing you want. He doesn’t know who you are, your mark is safely tucked away under your bandages, this will be fine.

It’s an hour and a half until close, he and his friends will get some food, eat, drink and chat amongst themselves and then you can kick them out and it’ll all be over. You barely have to interact with him. For all he knows you’re just a server in a random cafe - this will be fine.

Robotically you force your legs to move, carrying you towards your oblivious soulmate. You’re pretty sure that your smile’s a little off and you haven’t quite managed to quell the shaking in your hands as you reach for your notepad, flipping it open.

It’s the best you can do, especially when there’s a voice inside your head that’s all but begging for you to turn around and pretend this whole thing never happened.

Tendou appears to be thoroughly engrossed in whatever story he’s telling his friends, waving his arms around wildly when you reach their table. Normally you’d clear your throat politely and wait for them to settle down before introducing yourself and asking for their order, but when you open your mouth - nothing comes out. It’s like your whole throat has suddenly dried up and you’re just standing there gaping like an idiot, but Tendou hasn’t even noticed.

The ashy blonde to his left, however, does. His eyes flicker to you and you swear that you can see the faintest trace of amusement as he takes you in. He smirks, quickly shoving an elbow into the redhead’s side and jerking his chin in your direction.

“Hey loudmouth, pipe down would you?”

Your breath catches as he turns around to look up at you and grins, “Ah, sorry. Didn’t see ya there!”

The other two have picked up their menus again, but for whatever reason just as Tendou’s gaze starts to slide off of you, something catches his attention and stops him in his tracks. Like a magpie spotting something shiny in the distance, those big, droopy red eyes suddenly widen and zero back in with unnerving interest. Frozen with that fake, half hearted smile painted across your lips you feel strangely like a bug caught under a microscope as Tendou studies you - there’s really no other way to describe it. His head tilts to the side and he makes a low noise from the back of his throat that almost sounds pleased.

He can’t know, there’s no possible way, but if he doesn’t then why the hell is he staring at you like that?

It’s all you can do to remain rooted in place, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs that you’re sure they have to be able to hear it too. Whatever he’s searching for he apparently finds because his grin widens and he leans back in his seat and chuckles. “Why’d you look so nervous, we’re not gonna bite - promise!”

The other guy at the table rolls his eyes, “Tendou, don’t scare the pretty waitress, she’s just trying to do her job,” he chastises, offering you an apologetic smile that does little to ease your nerves. “Don’t mind him, he’s an idiot, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

You swallow and hum in faint acknowledgment, and he takes that as a sign to begin his order.

You were hoping that they were just going to get some drinks and be out of your hair, but as he starts listing off various snacks and appetizers to share and the ashy blonde throws out a few more, it looks like your nightmare is only just beginning.

You nod dutifully, writing it all down. The cook is just going to love you for this, but there’s not a whole lot you can do about it. “Anything else?” you ask in a voice that just barely passes for what your boss deems ‘customer service appropriate’, decidedly not looking towards the redhead who is still staring at you.

He hasn’t looked at the menu once since you walked over, actually you doubt he’s looked at the menu at all, but it doesn’t seem to matter because he pipes up regardless, “Yep, one of those thickshakes, you know - the really good strawberry one, annnd-”

“Y/N, order up!!”

Your soul leaves your body at the exact same moment that Tendou’s pupils dilate and snap to your wrist.

The pen in your hand is shaking, your grip so tight that it’s a wonder the flimsy plastic doesn’t shatter as you turn to glance over your shoulder. The cook is leaning out across the overpass, staring at you with a scowl and vaguely you register the hot plate of food in front of him which can’t have been sitting there for more than a minute at the most. You give a weak nod, earning you a dismissive grunt in response, before turning back to the table.

All three of them are staring wide eyed and open mouthed at you.

Fuck.

They know. They have to know.

You should have legged it when you had the chance.

Breathe. Smile. Play dumb. This is fine.

“A-anything el-”

“Somethin’ wrong with your wrist?” Tendou asks slowly, eyeing the bandage like he wants nothing more than to snatch it up and rip it away from you. His fingers flex and you don’t even have time to brace before they’re shooting out towards you-

A hand catches his forearm before he can touch you - it’s his friend, the dark haired one with the crew cut, who’s currently staring down the erratic redhead with a distinct frown.

It’s the blonde who speaks up, “Sorry, he’s had a few drinks tonight. The idiot sometimes forgets his manners in public.”

The music is still playing in the background, somebody laughs at the table a few down from theirs, but in this little pocket, trapped between the three of them with the tension thick enough to slice with a knife, the silence is oppressive.

And then Tendou’s attention shifts back to you and your stomach flips - it’s like the floor has disappeared beneath your feet and you’re suddenly careening through the empty air with no hope in hell of slowing down.

He looks… well, mad is the wrong word. Tendou is technically smiling, but his grin stretched slightly too wide, his eyes a little too intense. There’s an emotion you can’t name etched across his pale features, and it’s unsettling… it scares you a little, if you’re being honest.

You swallow and take a tiny, shaking breath. “I-it’s fine. I tripped last week and sprained it.”

“Clumsy, are you?” he asks, prying himself free of his friend’s grip.

A laugh forces its way out, grating and too sharp to be believable. “Yeah, I guess. Your food won’t be too long, if you need anything else, just- just let me know.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond as you all but flee the table. You’re shaking and almost in tears by the time you reach the kitchen, the cook takes one look at you, a grumpy admonishment on the tip of his tongue, and falters.

They stay until close, and you avoid them like the plague.

Hours later, lying tucked up in your bed your skin still prickles from the thought of Tendou’s piercing stare. Maybe if you’d kept some kind of a level head through it all instead of acting like a flustered school girl, he might have just passed it all off as a coincidence.

But you hadn’t, had you?

It wasn’t just that he knew who you were to him (and to Ushijima) but that after all your blushing and stammering, the pitiful attempts at hiding your soulmate marks and the way you all but ran from him the very first moment you could, he had to know that you knew as well. That despite coming face to face with your soulmate, you lied - you rejected him.

You mom once told you that the first time she laid eyes on her soulmate the world stopped spinning and all she felt was joy. Maybe there’s something wrong with you after all, because despite the insistent tug in your heart, you just feel sick. Despite being exhausted after your long shift, sleep that night doesn’t come easy.

It’s two days later that you find yourself back in the cafe, working a rare day shift on your only week-days off from classes. You keep glancing up at the door every few minutes, half dreading the possibility that any moment, Tendou and his friends are going to walk in, but they don’t.

Ushijima does, a little after the lunch rush dies down.

He looks so out of place against the vibrant backdrop of the 50’s style diner, all serious and stoic, that if he were anybody else you might think he was lost.

But he isn’t lost, because he’s staring right at you.

You don’t notice one of your co-workers sliding up to you until they laugh and playfully nudge your side. “Ah, I see the eye candy is back. Try and pick up your jaw, Y/N,” they tease.

Back?

Instead of finding an empty table to sit himself down at (and give you a minute to mentally prepare) Ushijima is making his way straight over to the counter, unsmiling and huge. How was he even bigger in person?! He could crush you with his thighs alone!

“He’s been here before?” you ask quietly, unable to draw your gaze away from him.

Your co-worker snorts. “Yeah, he came in last night, he even asked for you by name. Seemed kinda disappointed when I told him you weren’t on until today. You holding out on me, Y/N? I thought we were closer than that. You know you’re supposed to tell me when you start dating a hot ass dude!”

They slip away with a wink before you even have a chance to respond and you’re left floundering as Ushijima approaches. Your mouth is dry, your pulse racing. Just like with Tendou, you have no escape, nowhere you can run or hide.

He asked for you by name.

Fuck. You should have quit when you had the chance.

Ushijima isn’t smiling. Where Tendou had been beaming with chaotic energy from the moment he walked in, your second soulmate seems almost stony as he stares at you with serious olive eyes. You honestly can’t tell if he’s frowning or if that’s just the way his face is, but it makes your gut twist regardless.

It might also be the fact that he’s towering over you without even trying to. He has to be at least 6’3” but it’s not just his height that’s imposing - he’s brawny and muscular and, yeah, huge. Briefly you remember the news clip you’d seen of him, the terrifying brute force behind his spike.

He seems to be waiting for you to speak, so you swallow down the lump in your throat and try to remember how to breathe like a normal person. “Hi, can I get you anything?”

Something briefly flickers across his face, but otherwise his expression remains distressingly neutral. “… I would like some tea.”

You nod - it’s like pulling teeth. “Yeah, sure. We uh, we actually have a few different kinds…”

He makes a rough noise of acknowledgement and then… pauses. Instead of the menu, Ushijima studies you. His lips twitch into the faintest hint of a… smile? You can’t quite tell, but it looks out of place regardless. “I will have whichever you recommend.”

You can’t seem to be able to form words, so you settle with nodding, gesturing for him to take a seat while he waits.

His eyes don’t shift from you, nor does he make any attempt to mask the fact that he’s staring right at you. When his tea is ready, you all but beg your co-worker to take it to him.

“Trouble in paradise?” they ask, waggling their eyebrows.

“It’s not like that,” you mutter, but they take the tea regardless, and you busy yourself in wiping down tables and pretending that you can’t see the scowl from the volleyball player burning across the diner.

It really isn’t.

Even after tucking any thought of meeting your soulmates away there was always some tiny part of you - a part you were always so desperate to ignore - that wondered how it would feel to meet them, to be loved by them…

But while your heart squeezes with every glance, it’s not warm, dizzying bliss that floods your system and sends blood rushing to your cheeks. You don’t know what the feeling is that curls in your stomach and claws its way up your spine, but it’s nothing good.

Something went wrong with you, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Ushijima stays for an hour, finishes his tea and makes his way back to the counter to pay.

He's wearing a grey hoodie, running gear underneath, and when he hands you the money, passing it directly into hands, his sleeve rides up. There, plain as day, is his soulmate mark.

Your name, written in black ink on Ushijima's wrist, forever marking you as his.

You jerk, flinching away from him, but he doesn’t make a move to cover it.

“You cannot run from us, Y/N. We are your soulmates, we’re bound together.” His voice is little more than a murmur, but there’s an edge to it, sharp and pointed. Not so much a statement as a fact, as undeniable as your name on his skin, on Tendou’s.

He says it like it’s a promise, staring into your eyes with that impenetrable gaze and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

“Why are you so determined to fight it?”

You swallow, taking the cash from his hand and punching it into the till. “I’m sorry, whoever you think I am…” you trail off, finally raising your eyes to meet his penetrating stare. You’re quietly proud of the way your voice doesn’t shake, even as your heart races like a hummingbird in your chest and your palms sweat. “I’m not.”

The only sign that Ushijima hears you at all is the subtle furrowing of his brow and a distinctly displeased hum from the back of his throat.

“I hope you enjoyed your tea.” The cutting barb slips from your lips before you can stop them, but there’s a certain vindictive satisfaction you get in watching his eyes widen, the brief hurt that flickers across his face.

Of course, it only lasts a fraction of a second before his features school into a blank mask and he nods.

“Perhaps I will try another the next time I see you.”

And with a short bow, he walks away.

You leave your apron behind when you finish your shift at the diner, and you don’t come back.

There will be other jobs.

***

It’s not enough.

They start showing around campus.

The first time you catch sight of Tendou, you’re running between classing, cursing the ridiculous schedule that has you attending two back to back lectures on opposite sides of the campus. It’s just a glance - a flicker of red in the corner of your eye. The only reason you stop at all is because you're so focused on not being late that you fail to see the crack in the path until you’re tripping over it. The books in your hand go flying as you sprawl across the pavement.

“Huh, you really weren’t kidding about being clumsy, were ya?”

A pale hand stretches out before you, and just like with Ushijima, Tendou doesn’t bother hiding the soulmate mark as he grins down at you with those wide, creepy eyes.

You ignore it entirely, waving it away as you pick yourself up with a grunt. The skin on one of your palms is grazed, and you’re pretty sure that your knees are too, but all in all it could be worse. It’s more your pride that smarts, that and the fact that of all people to see you trip, it has to be him.

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby. I’m only try’na help you!”

You scowl, snatching your textbooks out of his offered hands. “I’m not your baby, Tendou,” you mutter.

You regret the words immediately. His grin slowly widens and he makes a sound, somewhere between a shudder and a moan - it’s almost pornogaphic and wholly inappropriate and it sends blood rushing to your cheeks, but you don’t have time to think about it.

“I’m already late, just-” you break off with a sigh, readjusting the strap of your backpack, staring resolutely at the ground. “I’m not what you want, what… what either of you want. Just leave me alone, okay?!”

Tendou doesn’t say a word as you walk away, but just like always you feel the burning stare following you until you’re out of sight.

Somewhat stupidly, you think that’ll be the end of it. The gloves are off - you might not have said it in as many words, but there’s no point denying it any longer. They are your soulmates and it doesn’t change a thing.

There is something wrong with your bond.

But they don’t see it like that.

They figure out your schedule, take it in turns to wait outside your classes, ambushing you whenever you’re alone.

“I have a game tomorrow,” Ushijima tells you on a rainy Thursday afternoon as he follows you home. “I would like for you to come.”

It doesn’t seem to bother him that you walk a few steps ahead (or try to at least - his legs are ridiculously long) with your head bent down, ignoring the steady rainfall that threatens to saturate you. Tendou usually fights for your attention, grabs at your hands, your waist, any part he can reach just to touch you, but Ushiwaka seems content to merely be near - so long as you stray too far.

“I have exams to study for.”

He hums noncommittally, “Tendou will be there.”

All the more reason not to go.

The silence between you two is heavy.

“It would make me… happy, if you came,” he tries again.

Your eyes squeeze shut for just a moment. You hate it when he does this, when he acts like you’re the one being stubborn. Like you haven’t told him, told them both to stop a thousand times before. Like they haven’t ignored it at every turn, blatantly refused to acknowledge that you don’t want them like they want you.

Shouldn’t ‘no’ have been enough?

You’ve considered reporting it to campus security, or even the police, maybe trying to get a restraining order or something like that, but what would you even say - ‘Please Officer, sir, my soulmates are stalking me’? Yeah, that’ll go down a real fucking treat.

“Why…” you trail off with a sigh, forcing yourself to stop walking.

This time he does reach for you, taking your hand in his. It’s warm and rough from years of volleyball and hard work, and you hate that it’s already so familiar. His expression is as stoic as ever, but there’s a quiet reverence in his eyes as he looks at you, as if he can’t quite believe you’re really there with him. You suppose in another light, it might almost look romantic, the two of you holding hands under his umbrella, lost in your own little world as the rain pours down around you.

He seems to be waiting for you to finish your thought, so you buck up whatever dregs of courage you still have and try again, “Why can’t you just… move on? I don’t want this- this thing, whatever it is between us.” You sigh, tugging your hand back, “I just want to be alone, why can’t you respect that?!”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, staring at you, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the back of your palm.

But then he shrugs, easily, as if you’re merely discussing the weather and not their continued overbearing and unwanted presence in your life. “We love you. More than anything, and despite your… reservations, we belong together, what other reason does there need to be?” He pauses, his gaze softening just a fraction, “You’ll come around eventually,” he adds.

A tiny part of you crumples at that. What’s the use in arguing with a brick wall?

***

It’s a minor relief when you walk out of your last lecture for the day the following afternoon. It might be because it’s a Friday and you, for once, have absolutely no plans for the weekend, but realistically it’s more to do with the fact that you know no one is waiting for you outside. Ushijima has his volleyball game, and Tendou will be there with him, cheering from the sidelines.

You should be happier, really, but there’s a pit in your stomach that’s been there since Ushijima left you at your door last night.

They’re not going to stop.

Instead of listening to the professor talk, you’ve spent the last three hours searching university transfers. You love Tokyo University, you love Tokyo - the big, bustling city you’d gladly lose yourself in again and again, but it can’t be your home, not when they’re here too.

There’s a University in Kyoto, it has a similar program to the one you’re already in. It’s a surprisingly easy process to change - your grades are decent enough, all you have to is apply. One simple click of a button. It’ll take a few weeks for it all to go through, which’ll give you enough time to figure out how you’re gonna upend your entire life without them realising - assuming of course that Kyoto university accepts the request.

If you soulmates won’t let you go, you’ll run, and you’ll keep running. Maybe you’re wrong, maybe one day you’ll look back at them and feel that same love for them that you’d seen in your parents instead of that black, cloying unease that twists at your guts, but so long as they don’t give the choice, what options do you have?

You’re not stupid, this… thing that they’re doing, the stalking, monopolising your time, trying to drive your friends away, it’s not the end game. What happens when they get tired of you ignoring them?

“Hey, Y/N wait up!”

For a moment your heart seizes, but it calms almost immediately when you realise the voice isn’t the one you’re afraid of.

You turn to find one of the guys from your last lecture walking over. He’s kinda cute, in a lost puppy kind of way, and he’s nice, for the three conversations you’ve actually had with him. Honestly you’re a little surprised he actually knows your name (considering you’ve definitely forgotten his) but you smile back regardless. “Hey, what’s up?”

“You doing anything tonight?”

Netflix and crashing early, but you’re hardly about to tell him that, “Not much, why?”

He smiles, and for a moment you’re taken aback by just how utterly endearing it is. He really is cute. “Me and a few friends are having a party tonight, you’re uh, you’re welcome to come. Y’know, if you’re not doing anything,” he says with a laugh, throwing in a wink for good measure.

But his smile fades a little as he catches a glimpse of something behind you. You frown at the odd reaction, turning instinctively to see what drew his attention when a weight drapes across your shoulders and you find yourself being pulled into a sideways embrace.

“There you are, baby! I was starting to think you’d gotten lost,” a familiar voice drawls. “Who’s your friend?”

You can’t see Tendou’s expression as he rests his chin on your shoulder, but from the way your classmate blanches you can imagine that it’s not pleasant. Still you have to give him credit, he only falters for a second before he’s rubbing the back of his neck and offering a sheepish smile, “Oh, hey, uh… yeah, I’m-”

“Punching a little above your weight, dont’cha think?” Tendou cuts him off with a snort, nuzzling in just a little closer. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear, “I thought Ushiwaka told you about the game tonight.”

You shiver, although whether it’s from his softly edged words or the kiss he presses against your cheek, you’re not entirely sure. “He did, I-I told him that I had to study…”

Tendou laughs, squeezing you tighter, “Psh, is that all? Baby, we can help you study later. C’mon, or we’re gonna miss the start of the game.”

And like that he’s tugging you away. With Tendou’s arm wrapped snugly around you, you don’t even have a chance to turn around and apologise to the guy. He’s done it purposefully, a reminder you suppose of who you belong to - though for your classmate’s benefit or yours you honestly don’t know.

Ushijima’s already on the court by the time Tendou and you arrive at your seats (front row of course) but he glances over as you both settle down and his lips quirk into the faintest hint of a smile.

It would make me… happy, if you came, he’d said.

You don’t miss the razor sharp, anticipatory gleam in his eyes, though.

He destroys the competition. You still remember that brief clip you’d seen years ago of his brutal spike - it seems like time has only served to make it more lethal. The rest of his team is undeniably good, you doubt Ushijima would join a club made up of anything less than the best, but still, he’s in his element and without a single doubt the strongest on the court.

For every point he scores, Tendou cheers wildly. Halfway through the second set you can see that every player on the other side hates Ushijima - if the scowls and muttered snarls they’re shooting his way are anything to go by. You can’t exactly say you blame them for it either. They’re demoralised and angry, frustrated by the huge Ace and his indomitable force and even though he’s not a part of the team, Tendou revels in it. There’s a song he starts to sing, some inane jig that flows too naturally to have been made up on the spot. You can almost imagine him on the court beside Ushiwaka, singing it after stealing point after point from the other team. The two of them must have made a formidable team on the court.

They still do, you suppose.

You’ve never been one for volleyball, or sports in general, but even you can’t deny the sense of feral anticipation in the air as Ushijima steps up to serve on match point. Tendou has his hand wrapped tightly around yours, leaning forward in his seat to watch the spectacle. You can’t say you blame him.

You might hate him, but you can’t deny that his serves are a sight to behold. Your heart thumps as he throws the balls up, runs and launches himself into the air. His legs are arched, his form perfect and you still can’t quite believe how high he manages to get considering his size -

And then he hits the ball, palm slamming into the leather with a resounding smack - it flies over the net, damn near knocks the poor Libero off his feet as he tries to save it, but even that isn’t enough to stop it. The ball ricochets off his receive, spinning into the crowd and just like that - it’s all over.

Ushijima roars in victory, and Tendou turns to you, red eyes wild and delighted. You don’t have a moment to breathe, much less prepare yourself before his lips are crashing against your own.

The deafening cheers of the stadium fade out.

You can feel his racing pulse as he clutches you close, the unrepentant enthusiasm that pours through him as his tongue dances across your bottom lip, begging for entry. You’re stuck still, frozen in place as your soulmate steals his first kiss.

Somehow when you pictured this moment as a little girl, you didn’t imagine that it would be fear that floods your veins, that the soft, breathless laugh that Tendou gives as he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours would scare you instead of making you feel safe and loved.

They walk you home together. It’s unnerving enough with just one of them, but with both your soulmates flanking you you’re more on edge than usual.

Or maybe it’s the slightly weird energy you can sense between the two of them. Tendou hasn’t stopped grinning since he kissed you and Ushijima still seems a little wired from his win. He hasn’t said much since the three of you left the stadium, but he’s holding you closer than normal, an arm slung low across your back, his fingers brushing possessively along your hip.

God, Kyoto can’t happen fast enough.

There’s a lump in your throat as you reach your apartment. They’d offered to take you out for dinner after the game finished - to celebrate Ushiwaka’s crushing victory over ‘those poor assholes’ as Tendou had put it - but despite the pit of hunger in your stomach, you’d politely refused. The less time spent with them the better.

Surprisingly, both Tendou and Ushijima had taken it in stride without so much as a peep.

But now you’re at the front door, keys in hand and Ushijima still has his arm draped around you. It’s not like they haven’t been in this position before, but despite all their gentle cajoling (well, gentle is relative - Tendou whines petulantly and Ushijhima just seems to hover silently like an overgrown bat) they’ve never actually been inside your apartment.

It’s your one sanctuary, and you very much want to keep it that way.

“Y’know, ‘Toshi and I’ve been thinking,” Tendou begins, snatching the keys out of your hand before you can stop him, chuckling and swatting at you when you try and grab them back. “Me ‘n the big guy, we really do love you, baby - head over heels, heart racing, butterflies in your stomach kinda love. It’s kinda sappy, actually. You have no idea how happy you’ve made us.”

The key slides into the lock and he twists it, pushing your door wide open. His eyes flash to yours and he grins, bowing as he gestures towards the open apartment. Your open apartment.

An invitation.

You blanch. “Um, I-I don’t think-”

Stupid of you to think you ever had a choice in the matter - Ushijima’s arm is an iron wall against your back, pushing you forward as he crosses the threshold.

Tendou follows behind the two of you, and the click of the door shutting behind you echoes far too loudly in your small apartment. He tosses the keys into the little dish on the kitchen counter - where they always go when you’re at home - and winks at you.

“I mean we are your soulmates so I ‘spose it’s kind of a given.” He shrugs, leaning back against the countertop, folding his arms over his chest. “But we can’t help but notice that you seem a little… uneasy around us. And I get it, baby, really I do. You’re just a little shy - it’s cool.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as Ushijima’s fingers curl around your jaw and he tilts your face to the side to meet his intense stare, “You’re being unnecessarily stubborn,” he elaborates.

A flicker of amusement dances in Tendou’s eyes at his bluntness. “We tried it your way - taking it slow and steady, trying to ease you in but, well… I think we can all agree your way isn’t working all that great.”

Your eyes snap back to him, “What?”

His grin widens, “So we figured it’s time we try it our way. We’ve been so good, baby! D’ya have any idea how hard it’s been to hold ourselves back?”

Ushijima’s grip is unrelenting, but that doesn’t stop you from frantically trying to fight your way out of it as Tendou pushes off the counter and stalks over to the two of you.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, “Been waiting so long for this. Wanted to fuck you on the tables back in the diner in that cute lil’ uniform of yours.” He smirks down at you, his pupils blown wide and dripping with lust.

No. No, no, no! You shake your head frantically as he closes in, “Stop, wait! Let me go, LET ME GO! I-I don’t want-”

Your panicked words are cut off as Ushijima suddenly spins you around to face him. His hand cups your cheek, enveloping it entirely, and his broad thumb strokes the soft skin gently. “We’re not going to hurt you, little one. You just need to see - to feel what we feel for you.”

Whatever retort you have is swallowed up as he closes the gap between you and kisses you. He’s demanding - unrelenting - forcing your mouth open so that his tongue can taste yours. Distantly you register Tendou slotting in behind you, the unmistakable bulge that presses against your ass as he attaches himself to your neck. “Shh, baby,” he murmurs between kisses, fingers sliding to the hem of your top. “Let your soulmates take care of you, hm?”

It’s not like you’ve ever had a choice in the matter.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere ushijima x reader #yandere tendou x reader #yandere ushijima wakatoshi #yandere tendou satori #yandere ushijima wakatoshi x reader #yandere tendou satori x reader #my fic #my writing #yandere imagines #yandere fic #tendou x reader #ushijima x reader #yandere hq #soulmate au #yandere soulmates #tw stalking #tw implied noncon #its 4 am im going to sleep

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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okay but here me out: you're a prostitute hired by laurie bc she found out that andy is cheating on her and needs proof for a divorce. when you see him, the payment is merely a bonus

wait i love this but i wanna modify it slighty: you’re a private investigator hired by laurie to seduce andy to prove he’s cheating!

this got so nasty so fast omg watch out for really dominating andy, with lots of dirty talk and a little bit of manipulation if you wanna read into it

“you don’t have to go through with it, obviously,” she explained, “you just need to get him to admit he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again. on tape, with this.”

she set the audio recorder down in front of you, and you smiled sympathetically.

“don’t worry, ma’am, this isn’t my first time with a case like this. I have my own equipment that’s less conspicuous and more reliable. I could even catch him on film if you wanted.”

“you can do that?”

“yep, I have cameras that look like pens, buttons, rings, earrings, glasses...”

“well, video footage would be even better,” she explained, excited yet somber. “I mean, it would make a better case in the divorce. it would kill me to have to watch it, though...” she trailed off, scratching the back of her neck.

“is there any doubt in your mind he’s cheating on you?”

“only because I don’t want to believe it. but it’s become to obvious to ignore,” she shook her head.

“I understand. it’s hard to stomach that the people we care about most would hurt us like that. but sadly it is all too common. let’s just say that as a private investigator, this is a huge portion of what I do... and I get very steady work. you’re not alone, laurie.”

“thank you,” she smiled weakly. “can you do it tonight? I want this over with.”

“um, as long as it’s pretty late, I have other tasks this evening.”

“oh, late shouldn’t be a problem, he’s out until 4 or 5 in the morning these days. this is the address of his work--” she set a piece of paper in front of you-- “just follow him to whatever bar he goes to from there and you shouldn’t have a problem.”

she’d shown you a photo, so you knew what to expect. you had to come straight from your last assignment following somebody else around the city, so you weren’t dressed for the occasion at all. to follow someone, you needed to dress plain and forgettable; to seduce someone, especially someone like andy barber, you needed to be extremely memorable.

you brought a change of clothes in your car, which you hastily slipped into in your back seat-- it required some acrobats to put tights on in the back of a small car like yours, but you managed to get through.

not just tights, but lingerie and garters. sky high heels, a skintight dress that made you feel like your whole body was on display. a motorcycle jacket and dark lipstick to give the whole look some edge. basically, you’d tried to look as different from his wife as possible. married men who were fucking around on the side always wanted something different, something fresh. you knew how to do that.

plus, the jacket had the hidden camera attached to the lapel, nearly invisible among the snaps and buttons.

the echo of your heels on the concrete floor of the bar made every head turn. it was quiet, and apparently a pretty slow night with only a few men scattered here and there-- the only other woman was the waitress.

andy was sitting at the bar, nursing a beer, and he gave you a quick glance before doing a double take. you tried not to smile visibly. gotcha.

you sauntered up to the bar, leaning forward and making sure to arch your back just so, showing off your ass. “vodka cranberry?” you requested, smiling when the bartender nodded and started pouring grey goose into a glass.

you took a seat decently far away from andy, “adjusting” your jacket to turn the camera on. you wanted to make sure you caught him coming up to you, starting the conversation, flirting first. he looked over at you a few times but never said anything, making you start to get a little impatient, before finally the bartender arrived with a second drink.

“from the gentleman at the end of the bar,” he explained as he handed it to you.

“oh!” you smiled, “that’s so sweet! you can tell him to come say hi if he wants.”

and it was just a few minutes before andy got up and leaned against the bar beside you, looking down at you with dark, half-lidded eyes.

“thanks for the drink,” you grinned coyly, letting your gaze drift a bit. he was really good looking, honestly, and he looked all kinds of right in that suit, too. if it weren’t a job, this might be the kind of guy you would actually flirt with of your own accord. then again, you knew better than to go for a guy who had a tan line on his ring finger-- you hoped the camera was able to see that he’d taken his wedding band off.

“I’m here almost every night and I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m from out of town,” you explained.

“business or pleasure?” he asked with a little smirk.

“I guess we’ll find out,” you winked.

it didn’t take much more flirting and a few more rounds of drinks for him to ask if you wanted to ‘get outta here,’ and with a giggle and a nod you let him guide you to his car with a hand on the small of your back.

of course, you thought he was going to drive the both of you somewhere. you didn’t expect him to push you up against it and kiss you roughly.

it was so sudden, and you knew you should stop him, but you somehow couldnt bring yourself to push him back, not when the way he was breathing heavily against you made your head spin, not when you could feel his beard and it was so hot for no good reason at all, not when his thick hands were grabbing you at your waist just tight enough to make you breathless.

“get in the back,” he instructed when he pulled back, making you blink up at him in shock. you knew you had enough, you knew you should make an excuse and leave, get this footage uploaded from your mini cam and onto your laptop so you could get laurie what she needed...

but instead you found yourself biting your lip and nodding, letting him open the door for you and hopping in before he climbed on top of you, shutting and locking the door.

“we can go back to my place,” you offered as he started to suck on your neck, pulling you closer.

“cant wait that long,” he mumbled quickly before helping you push your jacket off.

and you could tell that the way he tossed it onto the floor made the camera perfectly angled to see what he was doing to you. maybe it was the perfect evidence for laurie’s case. maybe it was about to tape you in your most intimate state with no way for you to stop it.

certainly there was no way you could stop when he manhandled you onto your hands and knees, pushing your dress up to find your black lace panties, and the garters holding up your tights.

“fuck, look at you... that’s why you came out tonight, then? to get fucked?”

you nodded a little, gasping when he slapped your ass.

“little whore.”

you didn’t think you’d like being talked to like that, but it made your pussy throb beneath the lingerie that barely covered it.

just when you thought he was going to give it some attention, he flipped you around again and pulled you into his lap.

“get on the floor, on your knees, and suck my cock.”

how was he so comfortable telling you what to do? better yet, why were you doing it?

you slipped down, barely finding enough room with your massive heels in the way, and started to palm at his cock through his suit trousers, moaning absent-mindedly when you felt the thick, hard, hot length hidden beneath. your mouth was already watering.

you started on his belt, looking up at him occasionally to find him watching you with a cold, unyielding stare. when you reached inside his boxers and pulled it out, he smiled at your little gasp.

“bigger than you expected?” he taunted. you were speechless, only able to nod in response before he put a hand on your hair-- not exactly forcing you forward, but definitely encouraging you to go ahead and put it in your mouth.

“fuuuck,” he groaned with you licked the head and finally closed your lips around it, suckling gently as your eyes fluttered shut. “no no,” he correctly instantly, “look up at me with those pretty eyes, sweetheart. take it deeper.”

you moaned around him but obeyed, using your hand to stroke the portion you couldn’t fit in your mouth (which was more than half). you started to back away when you choked a little, but he pushed you back down and moaned a little louder, “I like it when you gag,” he explained gruffly, smiling when you looked up at him again, your eyes watering this time. “god, you look so good like this.”

he pulled you off by your hair while you took in a gasping breath, gripping his cock at the base and slapping you lightly on the face with it a few times. when you put your chin by his balls, the head hit you on the forehead... it made your gut burn as you tried to imagine how that would possibly fit in you without breaking something important.

when he pulled you back onto him, bucking up into your throat as you choked and gasped for air, you felt need tingling up your spine from seeing him like this. he was completely in control and yet looked totally wrecked as he fucked your face. it made you so wet you couldn't stand it.

just when you thought he might come, he stopped suddenly and lifted you up onto his lap, pulling your dress down to admire your completely impractical bra.

he grinned when he saw your nipples were already hard, reaching up to tweak them gently until your hips rocked on top of him of their own accord.

“you like having your tits played with, sweetheart?”

“I like when you do it,” you blurted out.

“sweet young thing like you, you’ve probably never even been with somebody who knows what they’re doing.”

it’s not like you hadn’t had some adept partners in the past, but none of them were like this. nobody had ever made you this desperate.

“please fuck me, andy,” you whimpered.

“not yet,” he growled, ripping your bra and tossing it aside.

“that was expens--” you started to protest, but it fell into a moan as he latched his lips onto an exposed nipple, sucking and licking eagerly.

“f-fuck!” you stammered, gripping his jacket tightly as you tried to stop yourself from humping his leg out of desperation

but he wanted you to-- he grabbed your hips and pulled you down, guiding you to rub yourself on his thigh.

“go ahead, pretty girl, show me how bad you want it.”

you were pretty confident that even through your panties, you were going to leave a stain on his trousers.

you could even feel his cock on the inside of your thigh, hot and still slick with your spit, so hard you wondered why he wouldn't just put it in you already.

“please please please, need it so bad,” you whined, “I'm so wet for you, baby, I'm so fucking ready....”

“I know,” he whispered, pulling you closer to put his lips right beside your ear. “I know, baby, I can feel it. I can smell it. you smell so fuckin sweet...”

you whimpered and your head fell back, pleasure shooting up through your body in jolts as you rubbed your swollen clit on his thick thigh.

“want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you, babydoll. hard and rough just how you need it.”

“yes,” you sobbed.

“I’ll give it to you so good you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow, won’t be able to sit right cause I tore that pretty little pussy up.”

you gasped but you wanted it, god you wanted it so fucking bad you couldn’t even remember that this was supposed to be a job, not a hook-up. but you didn’t care.

“please baby, I’ll do anything just fuck me, please--” you cried, cut off by him grabbing you and pushing you onto your knees again, slapping your ass one more time before pulling your panties aside.

“god, you’re soaked,” he chuckled condescendingly. “you’re so sensitive, honey. I bet you’ll go crazy if I touch you here,” he proposed, rubbing his thumb over your clit and making you jolt forward from the intensity of it.

he leaned down to wrap his body over yours, holding you close with one arm around your neck as he whispered in your ear, turning your face slightly with a hand on your jaw.

“look into the camera while I put it in you, baby...”

you weren’t sure if it was realizing you’d been caught, or the feeling of him pushing into you that made your eyes water, but a tear fell down your cheek as he buried himself into you with a groan. it was just the right type of pain; with how wet you were, even a cock as massive as his slid into you easily. but it felt like you’d never been stretched so wide and you didn’t even know what to do with yourself as he pulled back and slammed into you.

“I never told you my name,” he reminded you, “but you knew it anyways. and with what I do for a living, I can smell a p.i. from a mile away. you’re not as slick as you think, sweetheart-- well, proverbially slick... cause literally, this pussy is so fucking wet for me.”

you could only gasp and sigh as he pumped into you faster and deeper, reaching parts of you that had never been touched before, let alone ravaged like this. you could feel his smile against your ear as he started to fuck you faster, his free hand palming at your breasts before reaching back to hold your hips steady.

“god, you’re so fucking tight... anybody ever fucked you this good, honey? anybody ever taken you like the needy little slut you are?”

he bit down on your ear and you realized he wanted an answer.

“n-no,” you replied, “never. nobody’s ever fucked me like this, andy.”

“anybody ever fucked you on camera before?”

you swallowed dryly. “no.”

“was it all an act, then? all part of the job? I don’t buy it. I think this is who you really are, a desperate little slut who needs to be stuffed full of cock by somebody who can give you everything you need.”

his filthy monologue fell on deaf ears as you tried with all your might to look away from the camera on your jacket, knowing that you had totally blown your case as well as presumably destroying your reputation. fucking a married man is one thing, fucking a married man whose wife is your client who hired to prove he was cheating? maybe you could spin it as doing your job a little too well?

“I can tell you’re close, sweetheart, go ahead and come for me. I wanna feel this pretty pussy squeeze me, milk my fuckin cock when you come.”

mainly you were just trying not to get too loud, afraid that the car wouldn’t be enough to muffle your noises in case somebody walked through the mostly empty parking lot.

“andy!” you yelped when you reached your peak, not really meaning to but it came out anyways, he chuckled a little, the sound morphing into a growl as you clenched down around him with each wave of pleasure washing over you.

“fuck, don’t fuckin stop, this pussy feels so good I think I’m gonna come inside...”

you were too out of it to protest; you would’ve gone limp and fallen down onto your chest if he hadn’t held you up, his cock flexing against your overstimulated walls as he painted your insides with his come.

he grinned as he stilled his movements, catching his breath for a moment before sitting up and pulling out, slipping your panties back on to keep his come inside for a bit longer.

it was all a blur as he helped you half-redress before he all but shoved you out of the car, stuffing his cock back into his pants before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

“tell my wife I said ‘hi’,” he winked at you as he drove off, leaving you with wobbly legs balancing on your heels while his come leaking down your thighs.

#andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #Anonymous

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

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Okay so pro hero kiri has this big fat crush on his co worker! Reader who unintentionally rejecting his moves on her because she is so shy and awkward but slowly she shown some signs that she is into him so he changes tactics and acts more romantic which adds bonus points once he sees her blush when she reads the note attached to a deep red rose! fast forward to a couple of months of pinning and he is getting very frustrated especially with her enticing soft curves of her body so (1/2) 🌠 anon

oof okay listen!!!! open ur ears!!! I have something to say

(Warnings - stalking, Somnophilia, dubcon, NSFW, unsafe sex, blood from a bite wound but it’s very brief lol)

You’re a little paper pusher at his agency, you barely even interact with the big man, but he always makes time to swing by your desk and chat for a bit before he heads home.

Unfortunately, you’re about as smooth as a piece of burnt toast. His casual flirting goes right over your head, and you keep rejecting his advances and it’s so fucking frustrating. Can’t you see how hard he’s fallen for you? Kiri doesn’t understand why you look away whenever he bends down to rest his elbows on your desk, giving you the perfect view down his shirt to see his fat pecs (the man knows he’s got a banging’ body okay). He doesn’t get why you shy away from his touch when he tries to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Kirishima can’t comprehend why you always turn him down when he mentions going out with you and some other co-workers (to make you feel more at-ease, he knows he can be intimidating) for drinks or a bite to eat.

He’s stressed - the man really wants to get to know you, but it’s like you’re completely oblivious to his intentions. He’s pretty sure you just see him as a goofy extroverted coworker that loves people. After all, he does stop and say hi to several other people every day as he makes his way over to your desk.

So Kirishima decides to up his game. Starts making his feelings obvious. He gets more touchy, perching on your desk to reach and rub your shoulders, laughing at your jokes and (gently) smacking a hand against your leg like a giggly schoolgirl. He talks about his workout routine and asks you if you think his muscles have been getting bigger. Could you check? Just with a hand around his bicep of course.

He buys a few gifts here and there; a cup of coffee for you with his number on the lid, a new pen when he noticed your favorite one broke, cute socks because he’s seen you wearing cute ones before, and he saw them and thought of you.

Each and every gift is accepted with the biggest blush he’s ever seen. You turn beet red, flush stretching down your neck and disappearing underneath your shirt. Kirishima chides himself for wanting to see how far the flush went, for wanting to rip off your shirt and bend you over right here and now.

But he didn’t like you just for your body, and he was willing to wait.

Kirishima feels emboldened by the success of his other gifts, so he decides to write out his feeling in a note, get you a bunch of flowers, and present them to you Friday night. That way, you’d have time to think things over and process your own feelings before you saw Kiri again on Monday. To him, it seemed like the perfect plan.

And god, you were so cute when he gave you the flowers, he wanted to kiss you on the nose and then taste your lips, right then and there.

But he didn’t.

He gave you a soft pat on the back before walking away. He was around the corner before he heard you gasp, which immediately made him backtrack and peek his head out so he could see you. Was it a good gasp? Or a bad gasp?

You had a little smile on your face, eyes twinkling as you read the note.

Kirishima pumped his fist, heart soaring. He finally got through to you.

Except he hadn’t.

On Monday, you didn’t say anything to him, hardly even looked at him. When he came by your desk to ask what you thought of the note, all he got was a fierce blush and mumbled sentences, before you bolted off to the bathroom.

It’s like he was back at square one.

It made Kirishima feel... inadequate. His old middle-school insecurities came creeping back into his life. Was he not good enough? Was he just too boring and dull and you didn’t know how to tell him without hurting his feelings? What was wrong with him?

But he was an adult now, he could handle rejection.

The thing is, you weren’t rejecting him.

You baked him cookies, dropping them off in his office while he was out, but they had your name on them and the most adorable little note, and Kirishima’s heart almost exploded. Plus, they tasted delicious.

He got a text from you one night, a cute picture of a spiky red dog and a “this reminded me of you... Sleep well! <3″ and he spent the rest of the night imagining your wedding.

You kept showing signs that you were interested, yet you wouldn’t even look at him in person. Kirishima concluded that you were just too shy.

That was okay. He realized that the more time he gave you, the more you opened up to him. Maybe in a few months, the two of you could go on a date or something!

In the meantime, the man liked to check up on you, make sure you were safe. He was invested in you now, subtly following you home some nights to make sure nobody looked at you wrong.

He broke into your apartment quite often, but it was entirely justifiable! He wasn’t being a creep (okay, well, maybe just a little), he was just being a good friend, a good coworker. He had to make sure everything was safe, that no one could get in (other than him), that you hadn’t left a candle burning or the stove going.

You slept like a rock, staying asleep even when Kirishima accidentally knocked a cup off your counter and broke it. To his surprise, there was no awakening, no screaming, yelling for him to get out or that he was a weirdo. Just you, snoring in your bed, a tiny bit of drool at the side of your mouth.

It was such a domestic scene, it warmed Kiri’s heart.

Sometimes the man liked to slip into bed beside you, frame creaking under his weight. It was a tight squeeze-he was a large man and your bed was made for one (1) person, but Kirishima didn’t mind. It just meant he got to press close to you, feel the warmth of your smaller body, hear your quite little huffs and snores and mumbles as you slept.

He let himself relax, sink into the mattress. The next time he crawled into your bed, he let himself wrap an arm around you. The time after that, Kirishima felt brave enough to scooch under the covers, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he found that your pajamas consisted of a giant shirt and panties.

Bare legs.

Glad that he wasn’t a teenager anymore, he didn’t have to worry about cumming in his pants. Still, he found himself leaving your apartment with a chubbed-up cock more often than not.

You were just so soft. He wanted to touch all of you, to lick all over and get your plush flesh in-between his teeth. He wanted to bite into your shoulders as he fucked you into the mattress, pumping you with load after load of cum, until your stomach was swollen and you cried because you felt sick.

But Kirishima also wanted to hold you close, take showers together and wash your hair for you, make coffee in the morning and talk about last night’s episode of “Chopped”. He wanted to give you sappy smooches before getting to work, make you laugh with goofy jokes and give you hugs, pick you up and twirl you around whenever he saw you after being apart, no matter if it were days or minutes.

The nasty, dirty thoughts warred with the soft, gentle ones. Sometimes they mixed, Kirishima daydreaming of sweet, romantic sex.

He just wanted you so bad.

One night, he’s crawled into bed with you like usual, rubbing a sock-clad foot over your bare legs, pressing chaste little kisses to the top of your head as he draws you into his arms. It was nigh impossible to wake you, so he felt no fear or apprehension in taking such bold actions.

Shuffling in your sleep, you throw a leg over his hip, snuggling deeper into the solid warmth that is his body. Kiri sighs, contented.

And then you start making noises.

Little huffs of breath, tiny whimpers, and when Kirishima looks down, your eyebrows are drawn up. You twitch against him, against the thick thigh that you had slung your leg over, and then repeat the motion.

You’re.... You’re having a wet dream.

Kirishima lets out a shaky breath, trying to focus so he doesn’t crush your arm with his excited grip. You’re rutting against him steadily now, dragging your damp cunt against his leg, sighing at the friction, lips parted.

His cock is rapidly hardening, and he wants to rub himself against your stomach, feel the cling of his shirt as he rucks it up with his rhythmic humping. But he doesn’t.

He’s a gentleman, he wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. You’re just having an unconscious reaction to a man being in your bed. Maybe further down the road, when he’s taken you on many romance-filled dates, then he can lay you down and whisper into your ear how much he loves you while the two of you make love.

The man is so taken with that fantasy that he almost misses the gentle gasp of a name falling from your lips.

But he didn’t, because it was his name.

A shiver ran through him; excitement? fear of you waking up? He didn’t know. When he checked your face, you were still asleep, letting out those little whimpers and moaning his name quietly.

God was real.

God was real, and he had made angels, and you were one of them.

And lord forgive him, because Kirishima was about to sin.

How could he hold himself back? You were humping his leg, moaning his name and panting, in your sleep. You wanted him, you were just too shy to initiate or accept Kiri’s advances.

Theres no way he’s holding himself back.

Covers are thrown off, Kirishima quickly detaching from you (oh how he missed your warmth immediately) to shuck off his clothes, almost falling on his face as he ripped off his socks.

Then he’s looming over you, quickly pulling up your shirt, lifting your head gently, guiding your arms out. Your panties came off next, slid down your legs with shaky, excited hands.

Kirishima wanted to worship you. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, laid there on the bed, whining in your sleep for him, thighs rubbing together. He felt himself salivating, jaw itching to open and clamp down, to eat you whole. He wanted all of you.

Climbing back on the bed, Kiri pumped his cock a few times, precum flowing from the tip helping to smooth the way. He was going to fuck you now.

No preamble, the man just spread your legs, settling between them. A quick rub of your pussy with his fingers had him finding it already drenched, and he groaned quietly, the hand around his cock moving faster.

He shifted back slightly, only far enough to lift your legs, pressing your thighs up and back towards your chest. Your breathing changed slightly, but Kirishima wasn’t paying attention to that now. He didn’t care if you woke up now, you had just been dreaming about him. He was your wet dream come true, you’d surely appreciate how good he was about to make you feel.

Lining up was a bit more difficult than Kirishima was used to - he’d never been this excited to fuck someone in his life, hands trembling, heart beating out of his chest, sweat slicking his skin. But then the tip of his fat cock slipped inside, stretching you open, and all was right in the world for Kirishima.

He wanted to slam home, to push and push until he was balls deep and his tip was kissing your cervix. But he held himself back - he hadn’t stretched you, and he didn’t like the idea of hurting you in that way, he wanted your first time with him to feel good.

So he went slow, pushing inside an inch, waiting. Pushing another inch, then waiting. Waiting waiting waiting, he almost couldn’t rein in his desires. But he did, for you.

“Kiri?” You mumbled, eyes fluttering open. Kirishima wasn’t expecting you to speak so clearly, hips jumping forward, seating himself the rest of the way inside your heavenly warmth as the man swore.

“Kiri?” Clearer now, with a hint of panic. Kirishima looked up, and you were fully awake now, looking at the man with wide eyes.

“Hey baby.” He whispered, smiling gently. Your hands rose, one resting against his bicep, the other settling on his chest, and he shivered at your touch, at the feel of your tiny little hands on his flesh.

“What’s-? When did you....?” It was so cute, the confused scrunch of your face. You were still fighting the mist of sleep, blinking owlishly up at the man on top of you. Fear hadn’t kicked in, although it was simmering underneath the surface.

“Hey, shhh. Don’t worry, I’m here. Gonna make you feel the best, you’re my pretty little girl, know that? I’ve been waiting so long for you.” He whispered, swooping down for a gentle kiss.

You didn’t fight him, just accepted the lips pressing against yours with confusion. It probably felt like you were still in a dream, hazy and relaxed.

Kirishima couldn’t wait anymore, his cock was throbbing, your insides were molten and he felt like he was going to explode. He wanted, no, needed to move.

His first thrust was small, just a quick schlick out, and the same noise when he pushed back in. You were sopping wet, and the slide made it easy for him to move. Even more proof that you wanted this.

You gasped, eyes fluttering closed as you pulled away from the kiss. Kiri huffed out a joyful, breathless laugh as he thrusted again, sparks of pleasure lighting up in his gut.

“Mm, Kiri wait-” You moaned, nails digging into his bicep and chest. Kirishima ignored you, speeding up, trying to angle his hips to find your sweet spot. One of his hands held your hip, the other brushing your hair out of your eyes as he cooed at you. “Pretty baby, my beautiful girl. You’re making me feel amazing, love you so much. Feeling good? I can feel you trying to milk my cock. You want my cum?”

Dazed, assaulted by so many sensations straight out of sleep, you couldn’t exactly grasp what was going on. But Kirishima’s question snapped you fully awake, and you squirmed against his body. “No, no, don’t do that.” You mumbled.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m gonna pump you nice and full, you’ll feel all warm and round. Look so cute like this.” He grunted, going harder and harder with his hips.

Then he angled just right, striking your sweet spot, and you cried out in pleasure, bucking your hips involuntarily. “Mm, there we go. Feels good, doesn’t it honey?”

It was a rhetorical question - you were too busy writhing on Kirishima’s cock to answer, one of his hands pressing flat over your stomach to feel the subtle bulge of his cock as he fucked into your guts.

“Oh Kiri! Wait, I’m not-! Wait!” You whimpered, steadily reaching your orgasm. You didn’t want to cum, you needed to slow down and gather your wits, figure out what was happening and why Kirishima was here and when this had started and-

Kiri pulled out, quickly manhandling you as if you weighed nothing. He was so strong, it was easy for him to flip you onto your stomach, pulling you to your hands and knees.

“Gonna fuck you full. You’re gonna take all of my cum, gonna get bred like a good girl, my good girl.” His teeth were clenched as he slid back home, hissing as your wet heat welcomed him. You whined at the pleasurable sensation, unable to stop your hips from fucking back, trying to take more of his cock.

“Ohhh, fuck yeah, look at you. Knew you wanted this, wanted me. You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well. You like having my fat cock filling you up? Messing up your insides? Making you all wet and sloppy?”

His hand found its way to your clit, the area already wet from the copious amounts of slick and precum the two of you had produced. Kiri quickly began rubbing large circles over your button, thumb big and calloused and oh so good.

Kirishima’s other hand grabbed at your chest, attaching to your tit and pawing at you. He was quickly devolving into a feral man, animalistic in the way he fucked you, thrusts harsh and fast and too much but hitting you just right-

You cried out as you came, convulsing in the man’s arms at the strength of the orgasm he ripped from your body.

He didn’t take a second, spurred on by your orgams and the tightening of your cunt, and instinctively bit down on your shoulder, almost growling as he pounded into you.

“Fuck, fuck! Kiri ouch, fuck!” You yelped, his sharp teeth breaking skin.

The man paid you no heed, rabbiting his hips until he started to cum, his hot seed flowing into your pussy. His hips kept going, twitching as they slowed down until they stopped completely, both of you absolutely spent.

Nothing but the sounds of panting filled the air, and Kirishima finally unhooked his teeth from your shoulder, wincing at the stream of blood the started to roll down your back.

“Oh, baby m’sorry.” He mumbled, a bit drunk off the pleasure still coursing through his veins. You collapsed forward, his arms no longer holding you up.

Kirishima didn’t pull out as he laid down next to you, keeping your hips firmly cemented to his own so that none of his cum would escape, pulling you close to his body in the process. “Pretty baby, I love you. Thank you.”

It was just a dream, it had to be. You were left with no choice but to console yourself with that thought, unable (and unwilling) to think of any other possibilities.

A wet tongue lapped at your back, Kirishima licking up the blood from the wound he inflicted. “I’ll be more gentle next time, I can be good with my teeth, I promise.”

You ignored him, letting your exhausted self flicker between awake and asleep, confused, disoriented, overwhelmed.

What did he mean by “next time”?

#yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader #Kirishima Eijirou #mha kirishima #kirishima #yandere bnha #dark kirishima #tw dubcon #tw noncon

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