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simplygojo · 3 months ago

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Gettin' A Full Service

author's note ⸺ Y'all I'm so sorry im nothin but a nasty dog bc no way this is 4.3k 💀. ANYWHO this smutty fic idea came to me when seeing the art used as the cover for this by @actuallyvalerie (original art is linked here), I just couldn't help myself from writing this...heh. Hope you enjoy!

pairing ⸺ Mechanic!Toji Fushiguro x reader

word count ⸺ 4.3k (im a nasty dog y'all...)

warnings ⸺ 18+ content, SMUT!, oral (reader receiving), intercourse, dirty sex, choking, pet names (pretty girl), fingering, slight overstimulation, mndi, reader has a vagina, reader uses female pronouns

materlist || request guidelines || commissions || discord channel

^^ art by @actuallyvalerie

The low rumble of engines filled the air as you stepped into the garage, the familiar scents of motor oil and gasoline swirling around you. Your heartbeat quickened the moment you caught sight of him—Toji Fushiguro.

He was bent over the hood of his car, focused on something behind the propped-up hood.

The muscles in his broad back flexed as he worked, his white tank top clinging to his sweat-slicked skin. His strong arms glistened with a light sheen of sweat, smudged with streaks of oil that only added to the raw masculinity he exuded.

A dark smear ran along his sharp jawline, the grease contrasting with his striking, rugged features. The late afternoon sun filters through the wide windows of Toji’s garage, casting long shadows across the floor as you lean against the doorframe, watching him work.

His muscles flexed as he tightened a bolt with practiced ease. His black hair falls into his eyes, and he grunts, annoyed, pushing it back with his forearm before continuing.

You can’t help but smile at the sight. Toji, focused and in his element, and it was really turning you on…

The way he concentrated on the task at hand, brow furrowed and lips slightly parted as he grunted with effort, was enough to send heat coursing through you. Each twist of the wrench, every subtle shift of his frame, seemed to radiate raw masculinity, igniting a spark of desire deep within you.

Your pulse quickened, and you felt a warmth pooling in your core, drawn in by the mix of confidence and sheer masculinity he exuded.

Toji, sensing your gaze, glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You gonna stand there all day or actually say something?” His voice is teasing, rough around the edges, but there’s that familiar smirk tugging at his lips, the one that makes your heart skip a beat.

You push off the doorframe and walk over, hands in your pockets, pretending to study the car (like you gave a damn) as if you understand half of what he’s doing.

“Just admiring the view,” you reply with a grin, leaning against the workbench. “You sure know how to make fixing a car look… good.”

Toji snorts, wiping the grease from his hands onto a rag before tossing it aside. “Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it. Not many people get a free show.”

You roll your eyes at his usual bravado but can’t deny that there’s something captivating about him. He straightens up, towering over you with that smug grin still firmly in place. “What, you just came here to stare?”

You shrug, deciding to play along. “Maybe. Can’t blame me, right? You’re good at what you do.”

His smirk widens, and he steps closer, towering over you now. There’s an intensity in his gaze, but it’s softened by the playful glint in his eyes. “You saying I should charge for it?”

You laugh, lightly shoving him. “Please, you’d drive everyone away with that attitude.”

He chuckles, leaning back against the car, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Probably. But you’re still here, so I must be doing something right.”

You look up at him, biting back a smile. “Guess I’m the lucky one, huh?”

Toji’s eyes narrow playfully, but there’s a warmth in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Damn right.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the garage filling the space once again.

After a moment, you speak again, your voice softer. “Need any help?”

Toji glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You offering?”

You shrug, moving closer to inspect the tools scattered on the workbench. “Maybe. I’m not exactly a mechanic, but I can hold a wrench.”

He snorts, amused, and hands you a tool.

“Don’t hurt yourself. That’s my job.”

You take it, rolling your eyes at his comment. But as you stand next to him, following his instructions and working together on the car, there’s a quiet contentment in the air.

You grip the wrench, watching Toji’s hands as he guides yours to the right bolt. His touch is firm, steady, sparking a heat between your thighs. His body is so close to yours that you felt the warmth radiating off him.

You try to focus on the task at hand, but with Toji standing over you, the subtle scent of engine oil mixed with his cologne makes your heart race, and it's hard to concentrate.

"Like this?" You ask, adjusting the wrench in your hand, trying to distract yourself from your dirty thoughts.

Toji’s lips twitch into a smirk as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Tighten it, don’t baby it, baby."

You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. You give the wrench another turn, putting more effort into it this time.

"There. Happy?" You ask, looking up at him.

Toji’s gaze flickers down to meet yours, and for a moment, the air between you seems to thicken.

His eyes darken, a hint of something playful yet dangerous lurking in them.

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans in even closer, so close you can feel the brush of his arm against yours.

"Not bad," he murmurs, his voice low. His big arms reached over you and tightened the bolt even more, just showing off his strength. "Maybe you’re not as useless around here as I thought."

You narrow your eyes at him, though there’s no real annoyance in your expression. "Oh, please. I’m the best help you’ve ever had."

Toji’s grin widens, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Big words for someone who didn’t even know where the wrench was five minutes ago."

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, he reaches past you to grab another tool, his arm brushing against your side.

He doesn’t move away, staying so close that your shoulders are practically touching. It’s deliberate—you can tell by the smug look on his face.

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t back down. Instead, you let your own smile grow, deciding to meet his teasing head-on.

"Maybe I don’t know cars, but I know you like showing off. How long did it take you to fix that last engine again? Two hours?"

Toji lets out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying your banter. "Two hours, and it was perfect. Don’t forget that part."

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow. "Perfect, huh? Or just barely passable?"

He narrows his eyes at you, though there’s a playful edge in his gaze.

"Careful. You’re gonna talk yourself out of a favour if you keep that up."

"Oh? What favour?" you ask, leaning against the car now, your arms crossed, fully enjoying the back-and-forth.

Toji leans down, bringing his face closer to yours, his grin shifting into something more dangerous, more tempting. "The one where I let you stick around here. Don’t think I’ll keep you around for free."

Your breath hitches slightly, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you match his energy, pushing back without missing a beat.

"Oh, so you’re saying I have to work to earn my keep? What’s the price, then? More wrench-holding?"

He chuckles again, the sound deep and rich, vibrating through the air between you.

His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the teasing fades into something heavier, something that lingers in the charged space between your bodies.

He’s close enough now that you can see the flecks of green in his eyes, close enough that you can feel the warmth rolling off him.

"Nah," Toji says, his voice dropping an octave, turning more serious but still holding that playful tone.

"I’ve got enough wrenches. I’m thinkin’ of something a little more… personal."

You can feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t look away. "Oh? Like what?"

He leans in, just barely brushing his lips against your ear.

"Guess you’ll just have to stick around to find out."

For a second, the world seems to slow down, your senses overwhelmed by the proximity of him, the way his voice sends shivers down your spine.

But before you can say anything, Toji pulls back, the smirk returning to his face as he casually grabs another tool and turns back to the car, as if nothing just happened.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still pounding in your chest.

Toji always knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to get under your skin in a way that leaves you wanting more.

“Tease,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head with a smile.

Toji glances over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“I’m not teasing this time, I’m just busy. Like I said, stick around...”

His voice was low, almost serious, but that playful gleam in his eyes hasn’t faded.

He gives you a wink, and something about the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine.

You open your mouth to reply, but words seem to get stuck in your throat. The way he’s looking at you right now—like you’re the only thing in the room worth paying attention to—makes your pulse quicken.

The air between you feels heavy, charged with an energy you can’t quite name.

Toji watches your reaction closely, his grin fading into something softer, more intense. He drops the tool he was holding onto the workbench and turns fully toward you, wiping his hands on the rag before tossing it aside.

“You really think I’m just messin’ with you?”

Your breath catches as he steps closer, closing the already small distance between you. His presence is overwhelming—tall, broad, and carrying that rough, irresistible confidence he always seems to have.

But this time, there’s something else in the way he looks at you, something different. His teasing smirk is gone, replaced by a look that makes your heart race.

“Toji…” you start, but you’re not even sure what you want to say.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your chin, tilting your face up so that you’re forced to meet his eyes. The touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender.

“I’m serious,” he says quietly, his voice low and rough around the edges. “You think I haven’t noticed? The way you look at me, the way you linger around here like you’re waitin’ for something to happen.”

Your cheeks burn at his words, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anticipation.

Maybe both.

But before you can respond, Toji’s hand slips from your chin, moving to rest against the side of your neck, his thumb brushing against your skin. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“I’ve been holding back,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, like he’s been keeping this confession locked away for too long.

The dark, dangerous edge in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. His grip on you tightens slightly, a subtle indication of just how much control he’s been forcing himself to maintain.

You’re painfully aware of how close he is now—his broad frame nearly eclipsing yours, his body radiating a heat that makes it harder to breathe. The faint scents of oil and metal lingers in the air, mixing with something distinctly him. It’s intoxicating.

“M’didn’t wanna push too far, but... maybe I’ve been waitin' for you to give me the green light.” His words hang in the air, a challenge wrapped in velvet. It’s like a line drawn in the sand, daring you to cross it.

Your heart pounds, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Every inch of you is hyper-aware of Toji—the way his hand lingers on your neck, the way his gaze seems to devour you. You want this. God, you want this.

“What if I gave you that green light right now?” The words leave your lips before you can fully process them, but there’s no hesitation, no second-guessing.

For a fleeting moment, Toji’s pupils dilate, his eyes narrowing with something primal, something dangerous. The smirk that spreads across his face is no longer playful—it’s predatory.

“Then I wouldn’t waste any more time.”

Before you can draw another breath, his mouth crashes down on yours, and it’s like a dam breaking—everything he’s been holding back unleashed in one searing, possessive kiss.

His hands move from your throat to your waist, pulling you against him so fiercely that your feet nearly leave the ground.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he kisses you. His lips are demanding, rough, as if he’s staking a claim.

You can feel the pent-up tension in every movement—the way his teeth graze your lower lip, the way his hands grip your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his hold.

Your hands move instinctively to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, pulling him even closer.

You match his intensity, giving in to the heat that’s been simmering between you both for far too long. Every brush of his lips, every press of his body against yours ignites a fire low in your belly, making you ache for more.

Toji pulls back for just a moment, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours as he catches his breath. His eyes, hooded and dark, search yours as if looking for any trace of hesitation. But there is none.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” His voice is low, rumbling with barely restrained need.

Your answer comes not in words but in the way you tug him back to you, pressing your lips to his once more, harder this time, as if you’re trying to tell him with your body what your words can’t quite express.

Toji groans softly, the sound vibrating against your mouth as his hands begin to explore, sliding under the hem of your shirt.

His touch is scorching, sending jolts of electricity through your skin.

There’s an urgency now, a desperation in the way his hands roam your body, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

Your back hits the cold metal of his car behind you, the chill momentarily cutting through the heat between you, but it only seems to heighten the tension.

Toji’s hands are firm on your waist, holding you in place against the cool surface, his body pressed against yours in a way that has your pulse racing.

He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes smouldering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. The darkness in his gaze has only grown deeper, and when he speaks, his voice is rough, husky, full of raw need.

“I’ve been patient,” he mutters, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your jeans. “But you don’t want me to hold back anymore, do you?”

The way he says it, the low growl in his voice, sends a wave of heat straight to your throbbing pussy.

You can only manage a small shake of your head, your throat too tight to form any words.

His lips twist into a smirk, something predatory glinting in his eyes as he steps back just enough to grab you by the waist and hoist you effortlessly onto the hood of the car behind you.

He quickly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding them off your legs, letting his hands roam your skin.

The cold metal beneath you contrasts sharply with the warmth of his body as he steps between your legs, spreading them open with a firm grip on your thighs.

“You’ve been teasing me, y’know that?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous as his hands trace the outline of your hips, fingers brushing the edge of your panties.

“You comin’ in here wearing these tight jeans, given’ me those looks.”

Before you can respond, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and, with one sharp tug, the fabric tears apart in his hands.

The sound of it—quick and final—echoes in the small garage, and the cool air hits your skin, making you gasp.

Toji’s eyes darken as he looks down at you, his gaze hungry and unrestrained. He licks his lips, the smirk from earlier gone, replaced with something far more serious.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your inner thighs, rough fingers brushing the sensitive skin as he leans down, bringing his face closer to your dripping cunt. His breath ghosts over your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Such a pretty sight.”

He pauses for a second, his thumb brushing dangerously close to your center, teasing, but not yet giving you the touch you desperately need. You squeeze your eyes shut, your head falling back with pleasure.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he lets his thumb slide over your slick folds, testing your reaction, watching the way your body responds under his touch. The anticipation, the raw hunger in his gaze, it’s all too much, and you let out a desperate moan.

Your breath hitches as Toji's thumb slides teasingly through your folds, his touch both rough and deliberate.

You try to bite back the groan threatening to escape your lips, but the way his eyes flicker up to meet yours tells you he notices everything.

“Don’t hold back now,” he rasps, his voice gravelly, sending shivers down your spine.

“I wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

Before you can react, he dips his head between your thighs, and the warmth of his breath against your sensitive skin makes your body tremble. His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you in place, as his tongue traces a slow, agonizing path over your slick heat.

Your gasp echoes through the garage, head falling back against the hood of his car as pleasure surges through you.

You feel Toji’s lips curl into a smirk against you, clearly enjoying the way your body reacts to his touch.

He doesn’t hold back—his tongue flicks, swirls, and sucks, each movement precise and calculated, as though he’s savouring every moment of this.

“Fuck, Toji—” you gasp, your hands instinctively flying to his hair, tugging at the dark strands as the heat builds inside you.

Toji growls in response, the vibrations of his voice against your pussy sending waves of pleasure through you, making your thighs shake.

He dives in deeper, his mouth working relentlessly, tasting every inch of you, each flick of his tongue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

The sensation is overwhelming—his lips, his tongue, the way his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open for him, like you’re his to devour.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. Every brush of his mouth over your clit sends electricity shooting through your body, and leaves you whining for more.

Your hips buck instinctively, seeking more, needing more of the pleasure he’s giving you.

Toji chuckles, dark and amused, his voice muffled as he continues to work you with his mouth. “So needy,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet against your heated skin. “I like that.”

It’s like he knows exactly how to unravel you, like he’s been waiting for this moment, studying you, learning your body, just so he could do this—just so he could make you fall apart beneath him.

“Toji—m' gonna cum,” you choke out, your voice barely a whisper, but he knows what you need.

He speeds up, his mouth and fingers working in tandem, the relentless pace driving you higher and higher, until the world falls away and all that’s left is him, his touch, and the pleasure that crashes over you in waves.

You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, your thighs clamping around his head as your body shakes with the intensity of it.

But Toji doesn't let up, continuing to lap at you, drawing out your pleasure until you're trembling from the aftershocks.

Finally, he pulls back, his lips and chin glistening as he looks up at you with a satisfied grin, eyes dark with lust. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, standing back up, towering over you once again.

“Come here, pretty girl,” he rasps, his voice a low growl that sends another wave of heat through your body.

Before you can catch your breath, his large hand slides behind your neck, gripping it firmly, but not harshly.

He lifts you from your position on the car, pulling you up until you’re sitting in front of him, your legs dangling off the edge of the hood. His hand lingers at your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse, feeling the rapid beat of your heart.

Your body is still humming with the afterglow of your orgasm, but when you glance down and see Toji’s other hand move to the waistband of his pants, your breath hitches again.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he unbuttons them slowly, deliberately, the tension between you thickening once more.

Toji's eyes gleamed with that dark hunger as his grip on your neck tightened just a fraction, enough to remind you who was in control. His free hand moved to the back of your thigh, pulling you forward on the car until you could feel the heat of him between your legs.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice low and rough as his hand caressed the curve of your hip, dragging you closer to him.

“So pretty, all spread out for me.”

Your breath caught as you felt the tip of him brush against your entrance, your entire body already aching for him, needing more. You leaned into his grip on your neck, your pulse racing beneath his fingers as you whispered,

“Please, Toji…”

He chuckled darkly at the desperation in your voice, his grin widening as he pressed himself just a little harder against you, teasing you.

“Please what, baby? You gotta use your words.”

You squirmed under his grip, your body screaming for more contact, for him to stop teasing.

“God Toji—I want y’to fuck me,” you said in frustration, your voice barely audible as your body begged for him.

“Good girl.” His voice was a low, approving growl as he finally lined himself up with you, his voice sent another wave of heat to your aching pussy. Without another word, he pulled you forward, thrusting into you in one swift motion.

The sudden stretch had you gasping, eyes wide as your walls adjusted to his size, the feeling of him filling you completely was overwhelming.

Toji groaned, his grip on your neck tightening as he stilled inside you, savouring the feeling for just a moment. You grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his eyes locked on yours as each thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

Your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you clung to him, every nerve in your body on fire. Toji’s lips curled into a smug grin at the way you responded to him, the way your body seemed to melt under his touch.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He rasped, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in closer while maintaining his rough pace. His grip on your neck shifted to pull your head back slightly.

“Tell me how good it feels.”

“It’s so good,” you moaned, your voice trembling as he began to pick up the pace, the force of his thrusts making the car creak beneath you.

Every movement pushed you higher, the pressure building inside you all over again as Toji took you apart piece by piece.

Toji’s pace became relentless, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, and your body was a live wire, every nerve tingling under his touch. The pressure inside you built impossibly fast, the pleasure coiling tight in your core, threatening to snap.

“Toji—" you whimpered, barely able to form words as he drove into you, your body quivering beneath him.

Hot tears pricked at your eyes from the overstimulation you felt—never ever had anyone fucked you like this.

He groaned at the sound of your voice, his lips brushing against your ear.

"That’s it, pretty girl. Cum f’me," he rasped, his hand tightening around your neck just enough to send a thrill through you.

The roughness of his voice, the commanding way he held you—it pushed you over the edge.

Your body tensed, the world spinning as your orgasm ripped through you with a force that left you gasping, your walls clenching tightly around him as wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You cried out his name followed by a pornographic moan, legs trembling, your nails digging into his shoulders as you rode the intensity of it, your whole body shaking as the pleasure overtook you.

Toji’s hand slipped from your neck, sliding down to your waist as he kept moving, working you through the aftershocks as your body convulsed beneath him.

“There you go,” he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction, his hips slowing as he watched the way you writhed under him, completely lost in the ecstasy he’d given you.

Panting and spent, your body collapsed back against the car, your chest heaving as the last waves of your orgasm rolled through you.

Toji’s eyes gleamed with pride as he pulled out, his hands still possessively resting on your hips.

"You look so damn pretty when you cum," he murmured, leaning down to press a rough kiss against your lips, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all.

You were utterly spent, trembling in the aftermath, but as Toji’s lips curled into that familiar smirk, you knew...

He wasn’t done with you yet.

1K notes · View notes

angelfic · 8 months ago

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— IT’S SO SWEET

pairing: jason todd x best friend!reader

summary: the 3 times jason takes care of you and the 1 time he lets you do the same. alternatively, jason thinks he's invincible, but his best friend needs to be protected at all costs.

warnings: unedited. again. pls don't kill me. swearing, kissing, mentions of blood/weapons/injuries, mentions of periods, reader is a nursing student, best friends to lovers!!! <3

author’s note: *shoves it at you* another one of these fics with the same format, this time with jason :) listen to 'sweet' by cigarettes after sex while reading this btw. and let me know what you think!! drop an ask or a message, don’t be shy!💌

1. when finals are going to kill you.

Sometimes you think being a vigilante like your best friend is worth the constant risk of dying if it means you never have to open another textbook again. When you voice this to Jason, he scowls like you've just threatened to kill a kitten in front of him.

"That's not funny. Don't even joke about that," he scolds, still frowning at you from the opposite end of your kitchen island. His Red Hood suit is sprawled out in front of him as he stitches up a loose hem, compliments of the last goon he most likely beat to a pulp. You make a face at the fact that his sleeve is covering your anatomy notes, ignoring the way he leans down in attempt to catch your eye. He resorts to snapping his fingers in your face. "Hey. Hey, I'm serious."

"Jason," you sigh, setting down your pen and resting your chin on your hand as you talk to him. "I'm studying for nursing school finals in my kitchen, because I didn't want to walk the five more steps it takes to get to my bedroom after making instant ramen. Do you really need me to tell you I'm not being serious about becoming a vigilante?"

His shoulders relax very slightly, but his expression stays annoyed. "You're going to give me an entire head of grey hair before I'm even thirty."

"Well, at least we know it'll suit you," you say through a yawn as you point to the white streak running through his hair. "So, if anything, you're welcome."

He gives you another withering glare, going back to his stitching. The tiny needle in his large hand distracts you for a minute until you realise that Jason has stopped sewing and you're actually staring into nothing now. He notices your eyes that have glossed over and immediately reaches over to slam your textbook shut, startling you back to attention. It isn't until he does this that you feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones, emphasised by the knot in your neck and the cramp in your writing hand.

Jason drags your textbook away from you, along with your notes. You take a second to appreciate how careful he is not to crease the pages, knowing you'd lose your mind. "Okay, you're done for today."

"Huh?" you mumble stupidly, his words registering in your mind too late and you realise he's just hijacked your study material. "Wh- Hey! Give it back, Jay, I have-"

"Finals, I know. Last I checked, you need to be alive to take finals and I don't see that happening unless you take a nap," he says, voice a little too calm for someone who you're about to pounce on and claw at until you get your textbook back. You sluggishly clamber off your stool and step in front of Jason, who immediately raises his arm to hold your textbook out of reach.

You look up at him and attempt an intimidating glare. "Hand over the textbook, Todd."

Jason raises his eyebrows, huffing out an exasperated laugh. "Lift one��of your arms to get the book and its yours."

Your finger doesn't so much as twitch, but you sway a little until you reluctantly accept that maybe he's won this one. And maybe a nap does sound pretty good right now, you think with a groan, dropping your head so it rests on Jason's chest. Your arms hang floppily at your sides. "I'll kick your ass after my nap," you mumble into his shirt.

"I'm terrified," he deadpans, and you hear the thud of the textbook on the counter before his large hands come up to grip your waist so he can walk you backwards to your couch, knowing you well enough to anticipate your grumbles if he were to attempt to take you all the way to your bedroom. You smile into his chest.

"You've met your match, Red," you say as dramatically as you can for someone who's practically the equivalent to a sack of potatoes against Jason right now. When you feel the back of your legs hit the couch, you grip onto the bottom of Jason's shirt and tug at the fabric before he can let you go. "You're my human pillow, where do you think you're going?"

Before he can answer, you nudge him onto the couch and he obediently lies down so you can nestle in next to him and plop your head back onto his warm, muscled chest. You blame your exhaustion for your shameless behaviour.

Despite the tiredness, you can't help irritating Jason just a little bit more. "Hey, Jay. What would my vigilante name be?"

"Shut up," he says without any bite, resting his chin on top of your head. You snicker into his shirt, half delirious with fatigue but awake enough to feel his face moving as he smiles when he thinks you're not looking.

"Something cool. Like Nightwing," you mutter sleepily, poking the bear.

"What? Nightwing is not as cool as-" Jason starts incredulously, but cuts himself off. "Whatever. Go to sleep."

You hum, eyelids feeling heavy and you start drifting off, the last thing you register being Jason's fingertip tracing circles on your back.

When you wake up, Jason and his suit are gone, but you have a blanket tucked around you and a box of your favourite cookies on the coffee table.

2. when, apparently, you aren't immune to the streets of gotham.

Considering you live in the most corrupt city in the world, you probably should be a little more cautious about going out at night. It's not like you don't take precautions, though. Like every woman in Gotham, you're loaded with pepper spray every time you leave the house. Unlike every woman in Gotham, you also have multiple vigilantes in your phone with whom you share your location with.

Even then, you aren't stupid enough to step into any alleyways. You wish that were enough to stay out of trouble, but as soon as you realise the streets have completely emptied while you've been distracted with your thoughts, you start panicking a little.

You're fine, you reassure yourself as you slide your phone out your pocket to pull up your recent texts. You keep your screen open just for some reassurance, gripping the sides of your phone tightly when you hear some distant footsteps.

It's only ten more minutes to the convenience store, so you're more irritated than scared when you hear the footsteps quicken behind you, catching up. Your fingers fumble to text an SOS to Jason, but you accidentally tap send on your chat with Dick instead. With slightly shaky hands, you try and send one to Jason as well, hoping it's gone through when your phone is suddenly knocked out of your hand.

"Oh, for the love of-" you hiss, when you hear the cracking noise of your screen against the pavement and you don't risk reaching down to grab it. Instead, you turn around slowly to face a dark figure, clad in a cliche, all-black outfit and stood in a threatening stance. God, you hate Gotham.

"Hand over your-"

"Wallet, money, most prized possession," you cut the man off, probably very stupidly. "I know the drill, hang on."

He falters for a moment before anger clouds his expression and he pulls out a knife before you can get your wallet out. You try not to sigh in relief. For anyone else that might sound crazy, but knives you could manage. Being best friends with Jason Todd means of course you've been made to learn self-defence. Disarming someone with knives was doable enough to learn as a nursing student. Guns, on the other hand, are out of your league.

The fact that you know how to defend yourself doesn't make the knife look any less threatening and sharp, though.

"Hey, look, I'm not gonna be difficult," you say, dropping your voice to a low murmur as though you're trying to coax a cat out of a tree. "I'll give you my money."

"Yeah. Yeah, you do that," he rushes out, sounding confused. You kind of feel bad for him. Most people confronted with a mugger would probably be a lot more scared than you're acting and it's clearly throwing him off his game. You almost regret bothering to send your SOS and as you're thinking about how you're going to apologise to Dick for wasting his time, you go to grab your wallet to try and stall before the mugger becomes violent. "Stop! Put your hands up. I'll grab it myself."

You furrow your brows, about to argue that no, he fucking won't. But you see that the man's face suddenly becomes ten times paler than before and he's looking behind you instead. Your shoulders sag with relief as you spin around to see Nightwing in all his black and blue glory.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?" he lowers his voice an octave and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. He seems to be focusing hard on acting like strangers, because anyone with eyes would see the problem very clearly in the form of a man wielding a knife.

"Please, help me," you respond, drily. Dick raises a brow at your flippant attitude, so you clear your throat, kicking it up a notch. You glance at the man behind you and try to look more terrified than you feel. "Please help me, Mr Nightwing. This guy's got a knife, and he's going to stab me with it."

The man frantically shakes his head, dropping the knife immediately and backing up. "I wasn't! I swear, man, I was just trying to scare her. Look, I'll just-"

"Hey." You hear another familiar voice boom, this time through a modulator. You sigh, lifting your head to see Jason, all the more threatening as Red Hood. His guns are already in either hand by his side and you have to respect the mugger for not passing out where he stands. If you didn't know it was Jason behind that mask, you'd be terrified to death. He tilts his head, evaluating the man. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere, I-"

"Exactly," Jason's warped voice comes out tight, and you hear the cocking of his gun, making you whip around to send a panicked look to Dick. He runs closer to you and you drop your voice to a whisper.

"I've got Hood, you take care of the guy."

"Don't do anything stupid," he says, not unkindly and the two of you snap into action.

You run back over to the mugger and step in front of him, making Jason falter in his movements and lower his gun. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths like he's exercising real control. "Move."

You stay as still as possible, arms splayed out in an attempt to cover the man behind you, despite the fact that Jason definitely possesses the skill to take him out even with you in the way.

"Put your guns away," you hiss when Dick has successfully restrained the man out of earshot and is dragging him away with ease. Jason steps towards them, but you stay in his way, using both hands against his chest to stop him. It's more of a symbolic gesture than anything, since you know you wouldn't be able to budge him an inch even if you threw yourself at him with full force. He stops anyway, looking down at you with his hands gripping his firearms tightly. "He was practically harmless. Let Nightwing deal with him. Please."

You're talking him down, trying to waste time so Dick can leave before Jason is able to do anything. You know you've succeeded when he tucks away his weapons, albeit reluctantly. Dick is too far away with the man now, anyway.

"What the hell were you doing out at this time?" he says, raising his voice instead of the usual quiet, deadly anger he reserves for the people who deserve it. It's how you know he's worried, when he doesn't try and control his temper. "And without dropping me a text first, so I could check on you? You do understand where you live, right?"

"Don't yell at me!" Your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence and you feel your lower lip tremble slightly. Jason stills. You refuse to cry, cursing your damn hormones and the fact you're a woman and the fact that you're cramping again. You aren't in the mood to talk to Red Hood right now. You want Jason. "And turn off your stupid voice thing!"

He obliges quickly, stepping closer to you. You're angry at one less thing now that his voice is back to normal. "I'm sorry for yelling. Please don't be upset with me, I was just worried-"

"You were going to kill that guy."

"Damn straight," he fires back, defensive again.

You glare at him and he has enough sense not to speak further. Shaking your head, you let out a frustrated groan. "He was a lousy mugger. That hardly deserves a bullet through the head."

"Are you forgetting that he had a knife?" he exclaims, throwing his hands up. Suddenly, as though he's remembering something, Jason folds his arms across his chest. "Why'd you call D- Nightwing for help first?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. How about next time, I'll ask the guy with the a knife if he can hold off for a second while I select the right contact number!" you grit out, hit with another wave of cramps, extremely tired of this conversation. "It was an accident, you idiot. I meant to text you first."

You can't see Jason's expression beneath his Red Hood mask and you aren't going to ask him to remove it in the middle of the streets, but you imagine he's mollified with the way his shoulders relax a bit.

Huffing, you walk away to get your phone, gingerly picking it up to inspect the newly made cracks all over. You vaguely register Jason standing over your shoulder before you shove your phone in your pocket, a problem for tomorrow. You turn around to face him and clutch at your lower stomach, breathing turning shallow.

"I was on my way to the convenience store," you explain, gritting your teeth. "I assume you're coming with me now?"

"Why did you need to go so late?" he questions, typically not letting it go. Instead of responding, you screw your eyes shut and puff out a few pained breaths. He immediately grips your shoulders and begins inspecting you. "What? Are you hurt? What happened, did he get you?"

"I have cramps, you ass," you groan, shoving his hands away. He ceases looking for an injury, and you don't need to ask him to remove his mask to know that he's relieved. "I was going to the store so late because I'm out of my sanitary products."

"Oh," Jason says gruffly, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice due to his excessive worry. "Well, I kept a whole box of pads and stuff from the other month in my apartment. It's closer, come on."

You sag with relief, dragging your feet to follow him as the two of you walk to his place. You're in his apartment so often that you're not surprised it's stocked up with period products as well as your usual things for when you stay the night. You feel a funny little flip that has nothing to do with cramps when you consider how he kept everything.

"Do you need me to carry you?" Jason asks, completely serious, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I know how bad the cramps can get."

"I took some meds a couple hours ago, they're not the worst yet," you explain, shaking him off and trying not to think about him offering to carry you all the way to his apartment just because you have cramps.

You reach his complex quickly and he sends you up while he enters through the fire escape from a back alley as not to expose Red Hood's living quarters. By the time you've entered through his door, Jason is already there, judging by his helmet sitting on his kitchen counter.

"Be out in a second," he calls from his bedroom and so you flop down on his couch, face down in one of the cushions as you try to think about something other than the sharp needles stabbing your lower belly. He walks out while you're writhing in pain and sets down some pads, two painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table. "Here, take them now and go sleep in the bed. There's some snacks in my nightstand if you get hungry. Do you need me to stay home?"

You reluctantly turn over onto your back and see that he's also holding your fluffy panda hot water bottle. You might combust, there and then. Pouting, you reach out for the panda, grabbing it to hold it close to your body and sighing at the slight pain relief. "I'm okay, you can go back to patrol. Thanks for looking after me, Jaybird."

"It's nothing," he shrugs, turning away to hide the pink flush appearing on his cheeks and grabbing his helmet. He shoves it on quickly and you try not to let out an unattractive snort of laughter. He turns on his voice modulator. "Text me if you need anything."

With that, he slips out of his window, making sure to shut it tightly behind him. You stay on the couch after knocking down a couple of painkillers and try to entertain yourself with some TV while you wait for Jason to come back.

You mournfully scroll through your phone, trying not to cut your fingers on the broken glass. The actual phone seems to be giving up on you as it takes forever to click on one thing to the next. Giving up, you toss it on the table and close your eyes. Making make a mental list in your head of things to do tomorrow, you add buying a new phone to it and prepare to say goodbye to a healthy chunk out of your bank account.

You don't remember dozing off, but your alarm startles you awake and you grab around for it on the nightstand next to you. Turning it off, you decide to brave the world outside the comfy sheets and realise you're in Jason's bed. He must have gotten back late and put you there, you think with a smile, suddenly happier than you were when first waking up. This happy attitude sours a bit when you nick ur finger on the broken glass of your phone screen trying to turn off the rest of your alarms.

Making your way out of his room and following the smell of toaster waffles, you see Jason plating up some breakfast for you. "Morning," you yawn, plopping down on a kitchen stool. "How was patrol?"

"Same old," he says, giving you the usual, non-descriptive answer. For all you know, he could have taken down an entire drug ring single-handedly and you'd be none the wiser. He sets down a plate in front of you, as well as a rectangular box. "Here."

You inspect the box, confused and wanting to focus more on the food before you process what it is and your jaw drops. "Jason Peter Todd. What the hell did you do!"

"Your phone broke," he says, gruffly, clearly trying to downplay the fact that he bought you a brand new smartphone, a later model than the one you already have. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Of course I'm going to make a big deal, Jay," you say, frowning. "I was going to get one myself today. Why did you waste your money on me? How much was it?"

"Don't worry about it," he says flippantly, plating up his own waffles. You should have known better than to ask. There's no way he's taking money from you.

You sigh, shoving your waffles and the phone out of the way to make your way over to him. "Jay," you say softly, grabbing his face in your hands. His eyes widen slightly and you fight the urge to smile. "I can't accept it."

"I said it was nothing," he replies, furrowing his brows and you release his face in favour of hugging him instead. "And it's not a waste if it's on you. You're taking the phone."

"It's everything," your voice comes out muffled by his hoodie. The cost of a phone really is nothing to Jason. It wouldn't have made even the slightest dent to his bank account, but that's not the point. "You need to let me take care of you for once. Oh, one more thing."

He hums in question, resting his chin on your head and wrapping his hands around you.

"If you buy anything for me again, I'm cutting a heart shaped hole in your suit."

Jason huffs out a laugh and you feel the vibration through his chest. "What about the coffee I get you after class every Friday?"

You stay silent.

He snorts, knowing he's got you. He drops a kiss on your head and grins when you look up to frown at him. "That's what I thought."

3. when this guy just won't take a hint.

Jason owes you big time. You've had the longest week of your life and yet here you are, in a floor length, dark red dress and heels, for crying out loud.

Realistically, this is the least you could do for him, showing up to a gala thrown by his father to keep him company. You're more than happy to do this as a favour to him, but that fact doesn't make the heels pinch at your toes any less.

"I haven't worn this dress since high school," you grumble, twisting it around your waist where it fits snugly. You're thankful for the fact that it falls loosely past your waist, or you'd have ripped it from your body by now. "If I eat one thing, it might actually tear."

"I'll give you my jacket when you spot the appetisers," Jason says, absentmindedly. You squeeze his bicep gently in thanks from where your arm is looped in his as he leads you into the venue. "Anyway, we'll be in and out, as always. Just making an appearance for Bruce."

"In and out," you repeat, lowering your voice as the two of you enter a more populated area. You know even though Jason moans about these events, he wouldn't be here if he really didn't want to be. He cares, even though he'd never admit it.

Groups of businessmen, celebrities, entrepreneurs; basically a bunch of rich people who are dressed in clothes that are definitely more expensive than your rent are milling about, every one of them with a drink in their hand. Their unwavering smiles and the constant trips to the bar are nothing new and you wrinkle your nose at the atmosphere of the place. "Do they even know what charity Bruce is throwing this for?"

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Bruce could be throwing this thing for homeless badgers and they'd be none the wiser," he mutters, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. Rolling his neck, he takes a deep breath. "I should go say 'hi' to him, while he's talking to a bunch of people. Prove that I actually showed up. You wanna come?"

You almost agree, not wanting to be left alone, but just before you reluctantly trudge over to a group of Bruce's boring business associates, you thankfully spot Jason's brothers by the bar. "I'll just go hang out with Dick and Tim, is that okay? I can come with though, if you want."

"Nah, go ahead," he says, detangling his arm from yours and giving you a reassuring smile. "Come grab me when they start getting annoying."

"Be nice," you warn, gently shoving him towards the group of men as you make your way to Dick and Tim.

"Hey," Tim greets you with a smile, glancing up quickly before returning to his phone. He does a little double take, eyes snagging on your dress and his smile turns devious. "Well, you look nice. You're wearing a very... nice colour..."

"Tim," you heave a deep sigh. Dick rolls his eyes, but he can't help the corners of his lips quirking up. "You can't keep doing this every time I wear red."

"I'm not doing anything, just making an observation," he shrugs, rocking back and forth on his heels in an attempt to look casual. Tim glances around to see make sure no one is in earshot before lowering his voice. "Hey, totally unrelated, but I heard Jaybird nearly shot a guy for almost mugging you."

"Tim."

"Leave her alone," Dick intervenes before Tim can needle you further. He definitely enjoys it too, but ever the golden boy, he seemingly wants to keep the peace. "How are you doing after that, anyway?"

"Fine," you nod reassuringly. "Thank you, again for showing up, Dick. I really appreciate it."

"Don't be silly, it's-"

"I heard he got you a brand new phone, too," Tim pipes up, cutting his brother off.

"Tim," you groan, thwacking him in the arm with your clutch. He barely flinches. "For the last time, Jason and I are just friends."

Tim opens his mouth to respond, but his eyes dart behind you and he thinks better of it, choosing to just smirk like the troublemaker he is.

"That's good news." You whip around to locate the source of the voice, finding yourself looking at a guy you've never met before. He seems to be around your age, dressed smart and very rich looking. You stand there stupidly.

"For who?" you ask, chuckling nervously.

He shrugs, giving you a charming smile. "Anyone who wants to buy you a drink. May I?"

Understanding dawns on you and you glance at Dick and Tim with wide eyes, feeling a little awkward that they're here for this interaction. Dick keeps his expression carefully neutral as he considers the man, whereas Tim frowns when he meets your eyes, jerking his head as subtly as possible in Jason's direction.

This has you glaring at him and just to prove a point, you plaster on a wide smile of your own and return your attentions to the stranger. "Yes. You may."

The two of you walk closer to the end of the bar and away from the others. You pointedly don't look at them. "What was your name?" you ask the stranger, mostly for the sake of being polite.

"George." A rich guy name, you think to yourself. If Jason were here, you know he'd have a million things to say.

He asks your name and you give it to him as he orders you a drink without actually asking what you want.

"Pretty name," George remarks, handing you a glass of something you've never had before. You pretend to take a sip, smiling in thanks. "So, what's your story?"

You try not to outwardly cringe at the question, sorely regretting tonight's decisions despite the fact you've been here less than half an hour. "I'm just here to keep my friend company." You keep the story short, not bothering to explain how you know the Wayne family.

"Ah, well. I dont blame you for looking so bored. I'm just here because I have to be as well," he mutters, swirling the contents of his glass. "Business connections and such."

"Oh." You find yourself being less and less interested in this conversation. "Do you know what the fundraiser tonight is for?"

"God, no," George laughs, taking a sip of his drink. You try your hardest not to grimace, mentally checked out of the conversation already. "It's always the same shit, anyway. Forget all that. Drink up and we can get out of here."

You nearly choke on your own saliva at his sheer confidence and set down your drink. "I really shouldn't. I'm, uh, I'm okay staying here."

"Aw, come on," he leans in a little closer than you'd like and you try to look as imperceptibly as you can for Dick or Tim, but it seems they've left you to face the consequences of your own actions. Traitors. "You don't look like you're enjoying yourself. What, you don't like me-?"

"Hey." You feel Jason's presence at the same time as hearing his voice. You almost laugh at how relieved you suddenly feel and you and relax into his hold when he places both hands on your waist. Jason drops his voice to a murmur that only you can hear. "Ready to go home?"

You nod, turning to leave. About to bid a quick goodbye to George as not to be rude, you open your mouth but get stopped in your tracks.

"She's fine right here, man," George says, voice as smooth as glass. If the glass is shattered into sharp, pointy spikes that are as uncomfortable as this conversation, that is.

Jason's previously polite smile hardens as his front is now practically plastered against your back. "She can talk for herself."

"She was actually just-"

"She's right here," you interrupt, squirming out of Jason's arms to step back. He drops his hands immediately, but doesn't look at you. Instead, he assesses George through a narrow eyed gaze. You can't decide if George is being brave, or stupid for not cracking under the weight of Jason's intense glare as he stands there, all six foot two of him posing a threatening picture. "Right, well. I'm just going to-"

"Hey, hold on," George says, averting his all-too arrogant gaze back to you and gripping your upper arm, jerking you slightly. You flinch a little when he moves into your personal space. "You aren't going to give me your number?"

His grip doesn't hurt, but it's a world away from gentle and you almost gape at the fact he doesn't seem to be aware of how uninterested you are.

Jason immediately clocks this, stepping forward. "Yeah, I don't fucking think so," he says darkly and then he shoves at George. Hard.

The people nearest to you gasp and titter when they see George careening into the stools at the bar and you slap a hand over your mouth, shocked. Shocked that Jason had actually gotten violent as Jason and not as Red Hood. All over a random creep, no less.

Before George even has the chance to recover from the surprise of Jason's brute force, you pull harshly on Jason's suit jacket, steering him out of the venue and into the hall. He follows you without protest, still breathing heavily.

"What the hell was that?" you hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet, despite being alone out in the entrance hall.

"He grabbed you," Jason says slowly, as if he's confused as to why you're upset. His expression is tight, like he's being careful to control his anger even now that you're away from George. "I would have done a lot fucking worse to him if you hadn't dragged me out of there."

"You cannot go all Red Hood when you're Jason! It's suspicious as hell. Not to mention how you were practically back-hugging me like some sort of reverse bulletproof vest."

"I always do that," Jason says, calmly. The fact that he isn't raising his voice just spurs you on to raise yours higher. The multitude of emotions swirling around in a confused whirl around your stomach makes you nauseous.

"You hate being touchy in public," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Last month, you punched Tim in the stomach for putting his arm around your shoulder. Anyway, that's not the point! You're so occupied with trying to take care of everyone that you never consider yourself. Or let anyone else do so. Yeah, that guy was an asshole. But he was just an asshole trying to talk to a single girl. He wasn't some... some crime boss or villain or evil freaking mastermind for you to take down!"

"I don't need looking after. And he didn't know you were single," Jason scoffs, running a hand through his neatly combed hair, mussing it up. If you weren't so irritated, you'd take a moment to appreciate how much you prefer it when he looks like this. Real and raw, like the current expression on his face rather than closed off and emotionless. "You came here on my arm, wearing my colour, like Tim's always fucking going on about. You... you're my..."

"Your what, Jason?" you ask, hysterically. You're almost yelling now, finally ready to snap at Jason's inability to share his thoughts with you. He stays silent, face going blank again, an indication that he's closing himself off to you. Your shoulders sag from exhaustion. "Come talk to me when you can give me an answer. I'm going home, I'll get Dick to give me a ride."

You don't wait for a response as you walk back into the venue. Thankfully, Dick is near the entrance and you don't have to subject yourself to too many stares before he takes you home. You don't glance at Jason on your way out.

4. when he asks for your help.

You're moping. You don't bother trying to deny it, but you're definitely moping around your apartment since your fight with Jason. You wake early every day and get dressed and study, but your movements are almost robotic in nature.

Dick has tried texting you a few times, but you've decided to just avoid looking at your phone, because it's the one Jason bought and it just makes you feel even worse. You aren't sure if Jason's tried contacting you, but your phone stops going off around the same time as Dick's evening patrol and you don't let yourself dwell on it further.

The two of you have never gone this long without speaking and aside from the pit of unease in your stomach as well as the sadness hanging over you like a dark cloud, you're also just bored. You have acquaintances from your nursing course, but no one close enough to do anything with this late at night.

Oh, well, you think to yourself, Chinese food and Grey's Anatomy for the second night in a row it is.

You take a quick shower, standing under the hot water for longer than necessary to let the time pass. Getting out, you change into your second pyjama set of the day, opting for a hoodie when you feel a chill in your room that wasn't there before.

You go to shut your bedroom window with a frown, not remembering why you opened it. The handle is stiff and you internally curse your landlord for still not fixing it as you finally succeed in shutting the damn thing after a particularly hard tug.

It shouldn't have taken that much energy out of you, but you're panting when you walk out of your bedroom to enter the living room so you can sit in front of the TV and order the takeout that you probably shouldn't be eating.

Before you can even attempt to regulate your breathing, you look up in the direction of your couch to find Jason sitting there in his Red Hood suit and slap a hand over your mouth to smother your shriek.

"Oh my God," you gasp, your free hand flailing out frantically to grasp the door frame in an attempt to steady yourself. The minute it takes for you to catch your breath is enough time to take in the state of the vigilante sitting in the dark of your living room.

You switch the light on and Jason winces at the sudden brightness, but you take the opportunity to give him a thorough once over. His dark hair is disheveled and falling into his eyes from hours of confinement in his helmet and he has a fresh bruise blossoming across his cheekbone.

You hardly ever use the main light, usually opting for a warm-toned lamp instead, so when the main light casts the cuts and scrapes on Jason's body in a harsher light, you want to turn it off even more.

Jason's eyes flutter shut for a second and you immediately rush forward to assess him for any injuries causing major blood loss. "Did you get stabbed?" you ask clinically, your voice void of any emotion. "Are you bleeding under your suit? You need to stay awake-"

"I'm fine," Jason mutters, opening his eyes to peer up at you through tired eyes. "I'm not bleeding or anything. Just wiped out from patrol."

You relax slightly, taking a step back to create some distance between the two of you. "Oh. You snuck through my window to tell me that you're tired?"

"Anyone could have snuck through that damn window," he says, brows furrowing in disapproval. He's been hassling you about the security of your apartment since you can remember and you usually wave him off, but in this moment you bristle.

"You don't get to be annoyed at me right now," you say, crossing your arms and glaring at him through narrowed eyes. "Why are you here, Jason?"

He grimaces at the use of his government name coming from you and takes a deep breath. "I haven't slept."

"So, go home and take a nap," you say, exasperated, letting your hands fall to your side as you're about to turn around and walk back into your room. Before you leave, you hear your Nursing teachers' voices in your head, reprimanding you and you sigh. "And you want to clean those cuts before they get infected."

"Could you do it for me?" Jason asks quietly, barely audible. His jaw clenches with the effort of asking you the question. "Please?"

You blink at him. "But, I- You've never..." you trail off, not knowing what to say. Jason has always refused to let anyone else patch him up after patrol. Hell, he's even learned how to do stitches on himself when you're the one learning how to do them for a living.

"I want... to let you look after me," he whispers, looking at you imploringly like you're going to refuse. Your irritation immediately melts into something else that you don't want to analyse any time soon.

"Oh," you exhale softly, heart twisting unwillingly. You nod slowly, words escaping you again. "Okay."

Jason's head flops back onto the couch cushion and he sighs like all of the tension is leaving his body. His hair covers his eyes, but you don't miss the dark circles under them, contrasting starkly with his skin, pale from exhaustion.

You consider letting him stay there, but you know it'll be easier in the bathroom where you keep all of your first aid supplies and the lighting is better for when you're practicing your techniques. "Come on. Up," you say, gesturing to the bathroom with a jerk of your head and you walk away, allowing him to come in his own time.

While you're digging through your bathroom cabinet for all the supplies you've haphazardly thrown in after using them, Jason slips in and you glance over at him quickly. "Sit down," you mutter, reaching up for the disinfectant. It sits on one of the higher shelves and you have to get on your tiptoes to reach it. Jason instinctively moves to help you but you shoo him away, managing to grasp it yourself. "Sit down."

"Yes, nurse," he huffs out a quiet laugh and you bite back a smile, opting to roll your eyes at him instead. Setting your supplies down behind Jason, you focus your attentions on unzipping his suit. The way his arms are resting limp in his lap tells you that he's not wanting to move anytime soon. You bring the zipper down yourself and pull off each sleeve cautiously, not wanting to rip the suit further where the torn fabric is clinging to the bloody cuts in his skin.

Once the suit is hanging loosely around his waist, you see from the black tank he's wearing that the cuts are localised to his now bare arms from where he's been defensive, whereas the fabric on his chest and abdomen are intact.

Jason's eyes track your face as you assess the extent of his injuries and when you lift your face to look at him, he's unabashed, continuing to look directly into your eyes. Your cheeks warm and you stutter out a sentence "I-I'll be right back, one sec."

You rush out of the bathroom and into your kitchen to pull open the freezer and scramble around for a bag of frozen anything. Settling on a bag of peas that you have no intention of cooking anytime soon, you hurry straight back to the bathroom.

Jason eyes the peas warily and you raise a brow, daring him to challenge you. When he stays silent, you move forward to shove the peas onto his cheek where the bruise is a darker red mark than before. He hisses when the icy bag makes contact with his face, flinching away from it.

"Ouch," he mumbles belatedly, giving you a sheepish smile when your mouth sets in a line. You should probably be gentler with him considering it's the first time he's allowing someone to physically care for him and it's you he's choosing to cross that boundary with. It's not like you want to scare him off so he never asks you again, but you can't help still being annoyed with him after your fight.

You sigh, trying to relax your face into a non-threatening expression. "Sorry. Keep it on your face to stop the swelling."

Jason grasps the bag slowly as you let go, letting his fingers brush over your own. You clear your throat and focus your attentions on the cotton pads, dousing them with disinfectant. Jason looks at you through one open eye, the other obscured by the bag of peas. "You shouldn't be the one apologising," he says, after a beat.

You purse your lips, bringing a cotton pad up to Jason's shoulder. "I know," you say simply before you press the disinfectant into one of the larger cuts, harder than probably necessary. Jason screws his eyes shut and works his jaw, but stays quiet. "Did that hurt?"

Jason shakes his head immediately, letting out a short breath he was holding. "Nope. Felt good actually. Kinda like a cooling effe- Shit," he hisses, tensing his arm. You think that's enough torture for now, instead continuing to gently wipe away the blood and dirt.

"I won't apologise about that one," you say, shrugging. Jason cracks a smile and you find yourself hiding one of your own as you clean off the other, smaller cuts and scrapes that don't need bandaging. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Promise I'll be nicer about it this time."

Jason shakes his head again, so you dispose of the cotton pads and get the band-aids, the only noise in the bathroom being the sound of you rummaging through your supplies. When you spot the choice of band-aids, you grin. "Pick one."

Surveying the two that you hold in your hand, Jason's gaze lingers on the dinosaur patterned band-aid, before flicking his eyes up to yours and raising an eyebrow. He points to the other one. "I'll take the Hello Kitty."

Your grin widens, knowing he's only choosing the pink Hello Kitty band-aid to appease you. You're certainly not going to challenge him about it as you carefully peel off the backing to stick it over his shoulder. Stepping back, you tilt your head to evaluate him and nod. "You look very pretty."

Jason smirks, but the slight blush creeping across the cheek that isn't covered by the frozen peas doesn't fool you. "Pretty enough for you to forgive me for being such an ass?"

"That depends." You take a tentative step towards him, crossing your arms. "Are you going to stop being stupid?"

Jason lowers his arm holding the bag of peas and places it behind him. With both hands, he reaches over to your arms, uncrossing them to bring you forward until you're standing close. He's so impossibly tall in your tiny bathroom that even standing up, you're only eye level with him as he sits on the closed toilet seat.

"I can't promise that I'll never be stupid in front of you again. You kind of have that effect on me," he says, sighing like it's some curse inflicted on him. You thwack his rock-solid arm and he grins. "I can promise I'll let you take care of me from now on, though. And that I'm going to stop lying to you."

"What?" you ask, eyebrows furrowing. You're even more confused when Jason places his hands around your waist to guide you onto his lap, both your legs hanging off one side of him. You raise both eyebrows expectantly, waiting for his answer, but he merely stares at you, smiling. "Jason. When have you lied to- mmph-"

He cuts you off by pressing your lips together in a kiss, one hand still holding yours, intertwining your fingers while the other tilts your chin up so he can kiss you deeper. You're a little slow on the uptake, frozen from shock for a second, but it isn't long until you're kissing him back just as eagerly. You shift in his lap, lifting one of your legs to swing over to his other side until you're straddling him and Jason takes a sharp inhale, sitting up straighter and pulling your body closer to his.

He pulls away for a millisecond, before his lips reattach to your jaw, travelling down to pepper soft kisses down your neck and you let out a noise halfway between a sigh and an embarrassing whimper. Jason groans at the sound, nipping at your neck and you feel like you can't breathe enough air.

He pulls away again to catch his own breath and you take the opportunity to come to your senses and lean back, gently pushing at Jason's chest. You breathe hard, trying to lift your gaze from Jason's swollen lips and he seems to be having a hard time looking away from your own.

"Jason," you say, voice shaky and uneven.

"Mhm?" he hums distractedly, pressing a soft kiss on your jaw before looking at you again.

"You kissed me," you point out, stupidly. "You really, really kissed me."

"I did," Jason murmurs, both hands cupping your face. He swallows, expression going from dazed to nervous before he speaks. "You asked me what you are to me before you left the other night."

You nod slowly, head still reeling from the kiss. Truthfully, you were willing to pretend the conversation never happened if you could go back to being friends again. You missed Jason.

"You're everything to me." Jason's shoulders are relaxed, his face free of tension as he says this. You're so shocked by the fact that he doesn't seem to be in pain as he opens himself up to you, that it takes a minute to process the actual meaning of his words. Your lips part but he shakes his head, continuing to speak. "You're everything. And sometimes I can't even think about that too much, let alone speak it, because I'm scared it'll consume me. I'm scared you'll consume me. The idea of compromising your safety, the idea of you loving me back, all of it. I'm... I was scared."

You lift your hand to place it over Jason's, still resting on your cheek. "That's okay. I can think and speak enough for the both of us," you tease and Jason laughs quietly, his breath tickling the inside of your wrist and sending a shiver down your spine. "You're everything to me as well, by the way. And sometimes all I can think about is loving you. I was just waiting for you to say it first."

Jason smiles and you think the corners of his lips lifting up and his eyes lighting up is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, each time blowing you away like it's the first time you've witnessed it. "Does that mean I lose? Kinda feels like I've won," he tilts his head, pretending to think about it.

"Oh, you've so lost," you furrow your brows in a mockingly serious frown. "And I'll be telling Tim as much."

Jason stills. "Please do not tell me that he bet you fifty dollars I'd confess first as well."

Your jaw drops. "That little bastard was playing both of us?"

You start laughing when Jason lets out an irritated groan, dropping his head onto your shoulder to bury his face in your shirt. You thread your hands in his hair and wrap an arm around his neck. He sighs, half content and half resigned. "I say we don't tell him for as long as we can get away with it. Live in peace for a while."

"We're talking about Tim here," you remind Jason, leaning back to lift his head and look at him. "I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew. And he'd literally never talk to you again if he knew we were hiding it after he finds out."

"I don't care," Jason says, lifting your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles. He leans back to run his eyes over your face, drinking you in like looking at you is a rare occurrence that he doesn't get the opportunity to do much. "You're all I need, anyway."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd scenarios #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fluff #jason todd fic #red hood imagine #jason todd imagines #red hood x reader #red hood x you

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bbokicidal · 3 months ago

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"I Guess I Never Knew You." | OT8 [SKZ]

Genre : Angst [NO COMFORT]

Pairing : SKZ OT8 x GN!Reader

Summary : Based off of a request asking for reactions/how it would play out if the members were to cheat on you during your relationship. Each scenario is different - and these are rather short simply because I am trying to focus on Kinktober right now. Hopefully whoever requested this will be satisfied!

Warnings : CHEATING, lots of crying, angry responses from the boys, dismissal from the boys, reader gets angry in a few of them, yelling, etc. Very emotional.

These situations are all fictional and are not made to represent the boys. While I do write them as well as I can - based closely off of their personality and how I think they would realistically react - I honest to God do not think any of these men would be capable of cheating on their partner. Specifically Jeongin.

Bangchan - He cheats while you think he's busy with work

The excuses were so easy to make with you. 'Sorry, Angel. I'm staying late at the studio again because Jisung is sick.' 'I'm going in early to work on choreography with Min. See you.' 'Be back late, don't wait up.'

When eventually he just stopped giving you warnings, worry set in. His health was your top priority - but nothing of your own was his apparently. You'd walked into the studio with a small lunchbox full of snacks and water for him, assuming he was staying late again, only to see him with someone in his lap.

It's enough to make you tense, barely hearing his whispers and gently shushes of worry. He was sorry, he meant it, he swore, he didn't know you would find out --

It took every bone in your body to not hit him with that little metal lunchbox.

Lee Know - He cheats with an old friend from school

A girl you'd seen in his posts before. You'd found them kissing in a park while you were on your way to work, walking along the sidewalk only to stop and stare. A few girls had also paused to point and giggle, assuming the girl he was holding hands with was his girlfriend as he'd never done anything with you in public - no one knew that you were the one he should've been sucking face with.

Minho kisses the girl once more before they depart, pivoting on his heel only to fault. He stares at you from where he stands, your unmoving form timid and beginning to shake as the tears streaked down your face. He lifted a hand to reach out, watching as your body turned and - in the pouring rain - dropped your umbrella in your pursuit to get away.

He yelled, crying out for you to stop and let him explain. You didn't seem to listen, putting your feelings first and refusing to hear him out as he chased you down. He was fast - you were faster - darting across the road and narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle as you stumbled to the sidewalk before continuing to run to your apartment.

It really was a good thing you hadn't moved in with him when he'd asked you to.

Changbin - He cheats while away for a weekend

Seungmin had sat you down, told you everything. He'd shown you pictures he'd taken on his phone because he knew you were -- God, you were wonderful. And that wasn't his own feelings for you talking.

You'd been so good to Changbin. You made sure he ate three meals a day, made sure he had water, encouraged him to keep working on his music, his solos - choreography, etc. You'd done everything for him when he didn't have the energy to, visiting him during late nights and hugging him tight to tell him how wonderful he was and that he deserved the world.

Apparently, he grew a bit too cocky during their recent trip to Japan. Seungmin's pictures painted a portrait of your boyfriend with another woman in his lap, his face hidden by her hair as she sucked marks onto his skin that would disappear by the next morning.

You didn't confront him - didn't feed into it. You thanked Seungmin, left after patting his shoulder knowing it would likely be the last time you'd see him, and went home to move everything out of your shared apartment.

The next day, Changbin went on an indefinite hiatus.

Hyunjin - He cheats online

It started with the fucking instagram models.

Then he was messaging people, you find out. Contacting women he'd seen at fashion weeks or previous works with magazines. He'd asked them for photos, told them just how beautiful they were, and after looking through their profiles on your own, you'd felt like every ounce of self confidence you'd had was completely destroyed.

He'd only realized you'd found out when he came home from practice - no, 'practice.' - and found you sitting on the couch with tear stained cheeks and his phone in your hand. He hadn't even realized he'd left it behind, so eager to meet up with the other woman in his contacts.

You'd packed all of his stuff, told him to get out, and he'd immediately started crying. You'd never seen him so devastated, kneeling at your feet to beg you forgiveness until you slapped him and shoved him back by the shoulders. He sat on the floor, stunned at your boldness to yell in his face that he was a liar - a cheater - and that he never loved you.

He'd sniffled, moving to get up and grab the bags you'd packed for him so he could leave. He stands in shame as he waits by your door while you seethe on the couch, silent, calling his new hookup to come get him. He couldn't call any of the members - they couldn't know about this. Not yet. The shame was eating him way.

Han - He cheats while on tour

He's in the USA when he texts you that he needs to break up. It's enough to break your heart, have you sobbing on the phone as you ask him over voice memo why he needs to break up with you now of all times. He was two weeks from being home in your arms - why now??

He'd chalked it up to just feeling distant, feeling as though you were neglecting him and his needs a bit while he was away.

Jeongin later reveals to you over a phone call that Jisung had hooked up with multiple women while they were gone over the months. He sounds broken as he relays the information to you, apologizing as you sob into the phone and saying how you never deserved any of it.

You were more angry than anything that Jisung had broken up with you in an attempt to cover up his own wrong-doings while also saying it was your fault.

Oh, but the twitter post you made the following day was enough to be near career-ruining for Jisung. And it was damn well enough to have him crawling back to you, blowing up your phone and begging you to delete the post. But it was already far too late for him by then.

Felix - He doesn't cheat on you because he's the most perfect sunshine angel baby on earth (I'm running out of ideas)

Seungmin - He cheats on you with someone you know

Your best friend - Well, ex-best friend - was the woman Seungmin had his eyes on. Not you.

He'd dated you to get closer to her, using you as a pawn in his little game until he was close enough. He would curl up next to you in the mornings, whispering soft goodbyes as he left for work before returning home late after he'd spent the evening in her bed.

You'd found out through another close friend who she had let the information slip to. Sleeping with an idol - definitely something to brag about.

He'd knocked on your door for nearly half an hour before you answered, threatening to hit him with a frying pan if he didn't leave. He was filled with confusion until you hissed out that you knew what he was doing. His eyes widened, puppy-like and scared after realizing you'd found out about his little scheme.

"Everyone is right about you! You're a fucking snake, Seungmin. You use people, you're full of fucking lies and bullshit! Do us all a favor and never date anyone again, you piece of dogshit!"

I.N - He cheats on you with a trainee

It's hard to stomach when you see it. He was so young when he entered the idol scene - How was he even doing it? Hooking up with a nineteen year old-- A girl who had just appeared at the JYPE building a few months ago.

She was set to debut in a new girl group - a pretty thing, tall and slim with long hair and a cutesy style. The ideal young woman for a girl group. And apparently he'd enjoyed her, too.

He isn't aware of your presence until you're stomping up behind him and shoving him by the shoulders, stumbling away to turn to you. He stops, breathing hitched and arm still around the girl's waist as she stands stunned.

You'd bit at him, yelling how he was full of shit when he'd said he'd never understand why 'I Like It' was a good song, how he'd never be able to imagine hooking up with people with no romantic intentions.

"You want to be with her then, right? You want to date her? If you really don't believe in just hooking up for fun, that must be the explanation."

He stutters, stumbling over his words as his eyes avert. "W-- ... Well..."

Your chest raised as you took in a breath, wanting to slap the man for his actions. Instead, you'd turned to leave, bumping into a very oblivious Chan on your way out. He'd stopped, asking what was wrong, before turning to peer over at Jeongin and the girl standing there, shame filling the two of them.

"Oh, mate..."

Permanent Tagist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersupriseee @possum-playground

#skz imagine #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bangchan x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #IN x reader #Hyunjin x reader #Changbin x reader #han x reader #lee know x reader #skz angst #stray kids angst

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kisscara · 28 days ago

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great save! [volleyball player!scaramouche x gn!volleyball player!reader] ⎯⎯ modern au, fluff

wherein a boy who's obsessed with volleyball and nothing else gets his world flipped upside down when he witnesses an amazing libero... aka you.

a/n: i don't expect this to get much recognition BUT I LOVE WRITING // i took inspo from tobio kageyama for scara's personality here

one... two... three...

scaramouche's deep indigo irises are fixated on the volleyball. he continues to smack it onto the dirt of the ground, just outside of a high school gym. he's prepping himself for his serve. he wants to perfect it.

each time the ball hits the ground, the little clumps of dirt flatten.

they're being pushed down by the rough impact. smack, over and over.

scaramouche stops slamming the ball, leaving it in his grip. just how he likes treating his opponents. to keep on pushing, until they're exhausted. until they realize, they can't win against him and his team. how could they?

scaramouche has always been a bit of a sadist when it comes to volleyball.

"oh, scara," kazuha's gentle voice calls out with a smile as he approaches the indigo haired boy. scaramouche turns slightly, sparing his friend a side eye, unamused. "you're late," he mutters.

the white, single red streak haired boy chuckles at his friend's grumpiness. kazuha's hands are deep into his hoodie pockets. "aren't you cold?" he asks, his words reduced to fog in the crispiness of the early winter air. scaramouche just responds with a grunt, looking back to his volleyball.

"i didn't know another school was using the gym today," scaramouche pipes up, nodding his head towards the gym. kazuha looks to the closed doors. "oh, really?" he murmurs while walking up to the doors. scaramouche follows, appearing uninterested as he tucks his volleyball beneath his arm of his hoodie.

when kazuha opens the door, the warmth of the gymnasium envelops them. they walk inside, the sounds of volleyballs hitting the polished floors and the squeaking of shoes filling their ears. the doors close behind themselves, shutting out the brisk wind.

they walk up the spectator stands and find empty seats located in the third row. scaramouche sits down, placing his volleyball on the seat by them. he then shoves his hands into his pockets and tsks, looking over the players.

kazuha laughs a bit, sensing his friend's annoyance. "you always want to play, don't you?" scaramouche clicks his tongue, slumping in his seat. kazuha suggests, "watching other players is a good experience too. maybe you can pick something up."

scaramouche, visibly offended, gawks at kazuha's words as he stares at the boy in straight up disbelief. "gross? ew, no?" he replies, a bit too quick, sitting up straight. "i don't need no spectating! i'm not a wannabe," scaramouche grunts.

before he can say any more, kazuha points and says, "look, the game's starting!"

scaramouche, though uncaring, looks over the gym, an unpleasant expression plastered on his face. the ball is in the air, far off from the court.

"it's bound to land in the tables over there," kazuha points out with a nervous chuckle. scaramouche hums quietly. "it's too bad both schools are tied at set point," he brings up, stretching his neck by tilting his head side to side. "we all know who's going to win-"

"what a save!" the commentator announces.

scaramouche blinks.

how did the libero get over there so fast?

you jumped up and bounced the ball upwards to course it back to your team and as a result, landing on the tables and knocking a few down.

"damn it!" you whine. you quickly untangle yourself from the mess, rushing to save the ball yet again when the other team manages to block it. you dive for it, your arm reaching out as your fist single handedly saves the ball once more. two saves across the court, under two minutes.

scaramouche didn't notice it, but he was on the edge of his seat. thanks to your save, the setter, your teammate, was able to set the ball for the outside hitter, who lands a successful point.

"and that's set point!"

you slump onto the floor, whining quietly, but relieved. the setter, keqing, comments with a laugh, "we won, and you're over here whining." you stand up, your mood flipping instantly as you say cheerily, "i know! this means we can get cake to eat, right?"

out of nowhere, hu tao collapses at your back, putting all of her weight onto you as she clings to your body. "nice job, libero!" she giggles, teasing you with a big grin. nilou puts her waterbottle down and breathes out with a comforted sigh, "we barely won..." she adds sweetly, "we wouldn't have if not for (name)."

after all of the congratulations, you finally managed to get away from everyone to get some water. you're skipping to the water fountain down the hall connected to the gym. however, as you round the corner, you bump into a guy with a bowlcut.

"woops, sorry," you say apologetically, looking at scaramouche as you rub your forehead where you collided with him.

scaramouche looks at you, and then at your jersey. a big white number four. the outstanding libero that caught his eye. "do you think you're good?" he interrogates, straightforward and blunt.

you perk up at his oddly spoken words. you slightly bristle and say with a worried tone, "i didn't mean to bump into you!-" scaramouche snaps, "no, idiot. at volleyball."

you blink a few times in realization as you register his actual question. you then nod your head, a bit of a pout atop your lips. "no, duh. why are you asking?"

a bit sassy. you don't fear his offstandish personality, do you?

scaramouche then smiles. you get scared at this. "damn, does this guy have split personalities," you ponder to yourself, awkwardly backing up by one step. he then raises a brow as he notices you subtly shuffling away.

"hold on, i'm not done!" he says, tugging you back by your jersey sleeve. your body lands right up against him, your eyes looking into his. scaramouche's grip slightly falters on your sleeve. he chuckles. "let's practice together sometime."

you're completely frozen, your cheeks feeling hot from the proximity between you two. scaramouche lets go of you. "what's your name, number four?" he asks, looking at you like he didn't just have you at a good kissing distance.

you clear your throat and say, "(name)... you?" still staring at him with that same look of, 'i'm not letting my guard down.'

he hums, "scaramouche. well, (name)," he admits begrudgingly, "you are an amazing libero." a tinge of surprise hits you. he doesn't seem like the type of guy to compliment someone so outwardly.

"but you annoy me."

yup, there it is. you huff a little before looking back at him with a sweet smile. "you annoy me too." scaramouche inches closer, muttering with a deadpan expression, "i'll crush you in volleyball." you look at him, not letting down as you speak with that same cheeriness, "you wish."

a worthy oppnent with that same edge of resilience.

he's fallen in love already.

scaramouche slips a small paper in your palm. "my number," he says, before adding, "ill be at this gym every day."

"every day?" you repeat, a bit surprised by his previous statement as he starts walking away. scaramouche looks back at you, smirking, "what, don't tell me you can't do that much?" you pause before saying with a grumble, "of course i can."

"then i'll see you there."

#📼 — 　𝓦.𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒.#gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #genshin imagines #genshin imagine #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfics #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfictions #scaramouche #genshin fluff #scaramouche fluff

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absolutelynotsanebaby · 3 months ago

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I was talking to my mutual about Cole when I had a surge of Thoughts so per usual you all have to hear them now. I was considering a couple things, namely his development and place as the "strong guy" on the team and his masculinity (and how it presents in the show vs in fanon).

Cole's pretty often typecast as the gruff strong guy in a lot of fan-media (from fanfics to fanart etc) which isn't wrong because he was like that, especially within the early seasons. The way he spoke, the way he acted, his place as a sort of leading force. In season three you even see him in that stupid lumberjack fit (said affectionately), it's all very traditionally masculine. Which fits his whole Strong and Big guy of the team role (the five man band archetypes etc etc). However, it's interesting to say because at his core, he's very emotional and very driven by a strong sense of internal compassion (with a canonical affinity to children). Which obviously none of that is opposed to masculinity but these traits begin to show more as the gruffness pulls back. The first real example of that I think is in ToE with his fight with Jay. I don't read him as being invested in their fighting the same way Jay was. Jay was fueled by insecurity and a very strong sense of jealousy and possessiveness. Cole? I think he was just reacting to Jay's aggression, which didn't put Nya in a better position but it is a difference.

So when their match rolls around, he's the first one to realize what they're doing is stupid and give in. He reaches out emotionally to Jay. However, Jays still is a friend so that is easy to write off as a symptom of friendship. And then following ToE we have possession and DOTD which I think are where he really begins to develop, and have the strongest examples of what I'm getting at. I'm going out on a limb and saying that I really see his prior gruffness as a sort of armor, to be good enough for the team (insert that one Wu note of him staying up late before missions) and also there his whole rebellious streak against his father trying to force him to be someone he's not. (Note: I wouldn't be surprised if how Lou raised him really had a impact on all this) Then, we get to Possession and both his self worth and self image are shook badly by literally dying. He outright says he's not a ninja anymore, which I think he based a lot of who he was on (<- which is why struggling with it hit so hard).

Finally DOTD comes up and I think we see the strongest example of where his compassion really become a core trait. It's his fight with Yang. He had no reason to reach out to him, to be honest he had the right not to, but he did and it worked! He didn't get out of DOTD in the end with brute force, he got out of it with emotional support (his team showing up), a stubborn adherence to his moral code, and reaching out to Yang with empathy. From that point on, I think he's softer and more prone to being emotional, it's like there was a very real shift. To circle back to Jay, because I think he makes for a good comparison, he does not develop like that post ToE. Actually, the issues carying from s3 (though, they do exist prior just not as starkly) all the way to Skybound where it gets violently (literally) addressed. Jay fans can probably say it better than me but the season is about his insecurity and treatment of Nya and there's a reason both Nadakhan and Cliff are like that (read: they're parallels). It's just interesting because both Cole and Jay have issues with self worth and image but they present and develop very differently.

There's also the fanon aspect with those two that's really funny. I think everyone's aware of the infamous fanon-bruise, the 2010s-yaoification. Uwu Jay, Big Strong Man Cole, and how weirdly racist it is. It's just funny to note because the issues projected onto Cole in fanon are ones Jay has, like, in the show. Cole's the more emotional and compassionate one of the two, but because of the strong guy role, it gets flipped around in fanon. Going by the 'traditional' (read: toxic) masculine standards, in terms of personality and character, I think Jay more closely aligns. It reminds me of this post I saw once, it was of Hunted where Jay was making the plane (?) and Cole was with baby Wu. It called Jay the 'mom' and Cole the 'dad' which I find kind of funny because if you look at it through that hetero-normative lense, it really should be the other way around. Cole's the one caring for the baby pretty consistently, Jay's the one making a machine and Working. Did Jay just get called the 'mom' there because people think of him as smaller and weaker and therefore more feminine? Did Cole get called the dad just because he's strong and considered bigger? It's interesting. Fanon does Cole really dirty sometimes.

To get back on topic of Cole's narrative development, then we get to MOTM (like a bajillion years later which no I'm not complaining except I am). Cole's characterization in MOTM is so fucking good. MOTM does a fantastic job at tying together several of his strings. It ties in Lilly, his self esteem, his staunch morality, affinity towards leadership, and compassion into one, pretty bow. MOTM puts Cole back into a leading role, and it gives him several groups to reach out to (Vania, the munce and geckle, the uppily). It draws back the insecurity present in him, letting it show again to be addressed. It even ties in his relationship to Wu in a really lovely way to me. MOTM is the season where Cole finds who he is, his identity and his place as his mothers son.

Speaking of that, I have a very strong love for male characters who exemplify who their mothers were and what they taught them. The scenes with Lilly really put his entire character into a different perspective. At the start he was this tough kid fresh off grief and pressurized so strongly by his dad and himself and he goes through loops and hurdles of strength and identity and by the end he finds himself exactly where he needs to be. Where he's the strongest and it's in his mothers footsteps, as someone both emotional and strong. It's a really lovely character arc to take him on, and though I haven't watched DR, I've heard they continue that on.

Anyways, consider it positive masculinity, consider it anything else. I just had a lot of thoughts to share and hope I don't sound too 'reading-too-deep' about it. Bye bye Kar ramble over.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #cole ninjago #cole brookstone #ghost cole #<- yes thats relevant #jay ninjago #jay walker #<- he comes up a lot so. thought I'd tag him.#blah blah #kinda nervous to post this #like what if im loudly wrong but. we persist thru the anxiety for the Blorbo #baby's.thoughts

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winwintea · 2 months ago

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my apology letter

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ heavy angst. some fluff. no happy ending this is a breakup fic you have been warned

SUMMARY ↬ Chenle always thought that love truly wins all. Your relationship with him was filled with joy and connection. But lately, cracks have begun form. Between small misunderstandings, unspoken frustrations, and the growing sense that he’s not enough for you, Chenle begins to doubt his theory. Is love enough to bridge the gaps between you or is letting go the ultimate act of love?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.0k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ i'm sorry in advance !!!! not really. suffer. happy birthday chenle. i hate (love) you so. very. very. much. title and fic based on my apology letter by kim yeon woo!

PLAYLIST ↬ my apology letter - kim yeon woo, who - lauv (feat. bts), lie with you - ten, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, the scientist - coldplay

CHENLE SITS DOWN, AND BEGINS WRITING HIS LETTER.

He’s lost track of how many times he’s sat in this exact seat. It used to be different. So different. At first it was nice. You were beautiful in every way possible. Kind, patient, and thoughtful. You always made him feel like the most important person in the world, even while surrounded by others. This table was a place of warmth, laughter, and love. Now the mood was only as tense as ever.

He takes a deep breath, letting his thoughts consume him as he begins to write.

I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us.

He remembers how the mornings would go. You’d both sit at the table, sharing a simple warm breakfast that you or him had prepared. All that really seemed to matter was the two of you in that moment of time.

He looked at you, the sunlight reflecting off of your face. You were always smiling at your phone, lips quirking as your fingers began typing. You placed your phone against your chest after hitting send, waiting for him to react.

As Chenle was absentmindedly scrolling through the news, he noticed a notification pop up on his screen.

My Love: “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

Quiet, huh? You always enjoyed texting him to get his attention. Thought it was funny. He looked up to see you smiling at him with a concerned expression. Not wanting you to worry too much Chenle smiled and shook his head, but did not say anything else.

The two of you continued eating in silence.

Chenle sets down the pen, this burden in his chest growing heavier. Where did it all go wrong with you two?

The two of you used to be inseparable. Days consisted of stolen glances, shared jokes, silly photos and videos, small moments that brought this intimacy together. Now, you barely interact with each other, barely talk to each other. His mind drifts to details of last night.

You sat on the floor, folding the laundry in front of the TV. Your movements were slow and graceful, thoughtfully folding every article of clothing. Chenle sat on the couch behind you, staring mindlessly at the TV, playing some show he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t look at you, you didn’t look at him.

The silence was tense and deafening, yet neither of you made moves to break it.

Chenle picks up the pen again with a stronger grip.

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

Chenle’s mind drifts to a day where everything seemed perfect, but always something tugging at the back of his mind.

The amusement park date. Your laughter was vibrant and warm, eyes sparked with determination as you tossed beanbags, threw balls at cans, aimed darts, always determined to best him. The two of you definitely had a competitive streak, but Chenle always made the sacrifice for you. You ended up winning a small stuffed dolphin, holding it high above your head like a trophy.

Chenle mock pouted, and laughed, “Guess I’ll stick to basketball.” He pulled you into his arms, the dolphin nearly squished between you as he pecked your cheek, while the two of you broke out into fits of giggles.

But even in the moment of happiness and joy, there was still something eating at him from inside.

Chenle grips his pen tighter as he recalls those fleeting moments of joy, moments that now feel bittersweet. He lets the ink flow on the paper again, writing some more.

I think about how happy we’ve been, and yet there’s always this weight, this worry I can’t stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. It’s not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.

Later that evening, the two of you had dinner at your favorite restaurant. Chenle thinks about the way your face lit up when the waiter placed your meal in front of you. He could never get over these small things that you did that make his heart feel giddy as well.

You slipped out your phone and took a photo of the meal, sending it to him with a caption to the photo.

My Love: [Photo Attached]

My Love: "We should make this at home sometime! You’re practically a chef. 😊"

Chenle chuckled, replying out loud, “Only if you clean it up afterwards.”

You smirked and rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you dove into your meal. For a while, everything felt easy, like it used to.

But then you got home.

It started with something small. Just a simple misunderstanding about weekend plans. Chenle couldn’t even remember the exact details now, only how frustrated he felt when his words seemed to fall short. He’d tried to explain, stumbling over his thoughts, but the look on your face never changed. You remained calm, patient, nodding along as if you understood every word.

You always did that—nodded and smiled. But had you really understood him?

Chenle sets the pen down again, and stares at the words he just wrote on the page.

"You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner."

He swallows hard, glancing toward the bedroom door. The stuffed dolphin you won that day lay peacefully tucked away in the closet. It reminds you of the time when things were simpler, or maybe just felt that way.

He stares at the words, hoping they’ll somehow fix what’s broken. But words alone aren’t enough.

They never have been.

Chenle’s been so lost in his memories and thoughts that he hasn’t noticed how much time has passed. He lifts his head and sees you standing in the kitchen. You’ve been here the whole time.

Preparing a lunch for the two of you, you move quietly, chopping the vegetables and stirring a pot on the stove. He barely hears your movements, soft and careful. He wonders if you feel the tension between you two as acutely as he does.

And for that moment, he just watches you. Your posture is relaxed, your head tilted slightly as if you’re caught in your own world. You seem so at peace, and it breaks him.

Chenle wants to reach out to you. To stop this moment from becoming what he knows it has to be. He wants to take your hand, to hold on to you just a little longer. But he knows that’s selfish. This cannot wait.

He swallows hard, his throat tightening as he tears his gaze away from you. His hands clenched into fists on the table, fingers trembling slightly. This is it.

Taking a deep breath, Chenle forces himself to speak. His voice is low, almost breaking, the words that come out of his mouth are barely audible.

“Y/N, let’s break up.”

Chenle had been distant lately, but you didn’t press him. He always had this quiet side to him, and you figured he’d come around when he was ready. You trusted him.

Lunch was extra special today. You were making tteok-bokki—Chenle’s favorite. It wasn’t a particularly hard dish, but he appreciated the effort you put in for it. You focused on the ingredients, the soft sizzle of the stove and the aroma that filled the kitchen. Smells like these made everything feel brighter.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of cooking, chopping vegetables and stirring the sauce until it thickened just right. He had taught you how to make the dish originally, cooking it to perfection until you got it just the way he liked it.

You glanced over your shoulder at him briefly. He was at the dining table, hunched over something. A notebook? His phone? You couldn’t tell. He didn’t look up.

It wasn’t like him to be so withdrawn. He’d always try—he’d send funny memes or silly videos to make you smile. Lately, though, his texts had seemed less and less. You told yourself he was just busy, and would make time as usual to make it up to you.

When the food was nearly ready, you began washing the dishes in the sink, suddenly remembering something you’d been meaning to ask. You turned around, leaning slightly on the counter, and smiled.

“Chenle,” you said, your voice soft but clear. “Take off early for work today and let’s go out to eat dinner together, alright?”

Your hands begin to move, signing something quickly as you mouthed the words out, the gestures being full of emotion to convey your thoughts and feelings. It was your way of making sure he understood. He didn’t know a lot of sign language, but he always made the effort to try and guess.

He initially looked at you with a serious face, his lips in a tight thin line. His eyes were conflicted. Why he looked so pained for some reason, you had no idea. But as soon as you started signing his lips curved into a smile once more, a familiar smile that you loved looking at all day long.

Eventually after no reaction, Chenle seemed to process your words and nodded his head. He held his hand up in a ‘ok’ position to ensure that he had understood and got the memo.

Pleased with his response, you turned back around and finished up your task in the kitchen.

Chenle had asked you to prepare him lunch. You suggested his favorite. He needed this moment to himself, to let the words leave his mouth and test the weight of them in the air.

“Let’s break up,” he had whispered while your back was turned. The words had tasted bitter, like ash on his tongue, their weight heavier than he could have anticipated.

But you hadn’t heard him.

You’d been deaf since the moment he met you. He could still remember your first conversation. It was brief and awkward, with you typing out sentences on your phone and holding the screen in front of him. He’d smiled at how patient you were. A patience you still had today. From that moment, he was hooked.

Yet now, after all this time, he hated himself for how little he’d tried to understand you better.

Chenle leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The guilt felt like a heavy weight, weighing his shoulders down.

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. But it wasn’t enough. Love alone wasn’t enough to bridge the gap of happiness between the two of you.

He thought about all the times you had signed something to him, your gestures full of emotion, but he could only guess their meaning. You never scolded him for not understanding, never grew angry when he needed you to repeat yourself or resort to texting instead. You were always kind and understanding. Patient and calm.

But you shouldn’t have to be patient. You shouldn’t have to wait for him to change. You shouldn’t have to wait this long.

He had taken advantage of your patience, convincing himself that things would work out eventually. He would catch on quickly. Or so he thought.

He had barely scratched the surface of learning sign language, and didn’t put in as much effort as he should’ve.

He wasn’t enough for her. His mind flooded with these thoughts and revelations. These words were sharp and seemed to pierce his heart, filling him with immense pain.

The gap between his hearing and your not hearing had grown too large, too large to ignore. At first, he had thought together you could leap over it, that your love would be enough. But he was wrong.

You deserved someone who would dive into that gap and build a bridge, piece by piece, brick by brick. Someone who would work to understand every gesture, every look you made, every unspoken word.

He wasn’t that person. He would never be that person.

Chenle glanced at the letter on the table, the words he had written laid out before his own eyes. He wanted to say goodbye, but he couldn’t find a way to do it face to face. Not properly. Not without him breaking down.

Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to say the words. Call him a coward. He couldn’t face you. He couldn’t even say he wanted to break up with you outright. Yet he wasn’t brave enough to stay and keep letting you down.

He heard you call his name again, your voice soft and light, the way you always spoke just for him. Your hands moved as you spoke, signing the words with ease, your face glowing after looking at him.

And in that moment, he realized: no matter who he met in the future, he would never love anyone the way he loved you.

But that love wasn’t enough.

The apartment felt emptier than ever when you walked in one day after work.

You’d noticed the change the moment you opened the door: the subtle shift in the air, the absence of his shoes by the entrance, the way the quiet seemed louder than usual, some space seemed emptier than you remembered. Your chest tightened as you stepped further inside looking around the living room.

That’s when you saw it.

A neatly folded envelope sat on the table, your name written on it in Chenle’s familiar handwriting. Beside it, the small dolphin you’d won at the amusement park laid out next to the letter on the table, its glossy black eyes staring back up at you.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your hands trembling as you picked up the envelope. You didn’t open it right away. Instead, you stood there, staring at the letter, trying to steady your breathing for a bit. You knew this was coming. You tried to ignore the signs, but you were correct.

When you finally sat down, it was in the same chair Chenle always used. You never sat in it, since it always seemed like his spot. The cushion still felt warm somehow, as though he had been there just moments ago. You placed the envelope on the table in front of you, staring at it for what felt like an eternity before you finally gathered enough courage to open it.

The letter was written in his careful handwriting, each word deliberate, each line heavy with emotion. As you began to read, tears blurred your vision.

My dearest Y/N,

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be gone. I know you probably saw it coming—I’ve been distant for a while now. And I know you deserve more than this. A goodbye in words rather than on a page. But this is the only way I could say everything I need to.

From the moment I met you, you were the brightest part of my life. You lit up every room you walked into. You taught me so much about patience, about kindness, about love.

And I failed you.

Things have been different, haven’t you noticed? I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us.

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

I’ve tried to convince myself that our love would be enough to bridge the gap between us, that I could make up for my shortcomings. But the truth is, I haven’t. I’ve barely tried to learn about you and your world. You’ve carried so much of the burden, of the weight of our relationship, and I just let you.

You deserve someone who won’t let you do that. Someone who will learn every gesture, every sign there is in the vocabulary of sign language, who will work tirelessly to meet you where you are.

That someone isn’t me.

I hate myself for not being enough for you. I hate that I couldn’t give you what you deserve. And I hate that my love for you isn’t enough to fix this.

You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner.

I hope that someday, you find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved. Someone who will put in the effort I didn’t, someone who will never let you feel alone.

I’ll never stop loving you, Y/N. I just hope that letting you go gives you the chance to find the happiness I couldn’t give you.

I’m so sorry.

- Chenle

Your hands trembled, shaking the letter slightly, your tears dripping onto the paper and smudging the ink. You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to escape, but it was no use.

The dolphin on the table stared back at you as if it held all the memories you’d shared—the laughter, the quiet moments, the love.

You folded the letter carefully, placing it back in the envelope as your tears continued to fall. Sitting there in the silence, you felt the weight of his absence settle around you.

And yet, even through the pain, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame him.

Because you understood. And that hurt the most.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung @peterm4rker @sleepyvic @chenlesfavorite (u too pookie)

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weird-is-life · 5 months ago

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I saw you’re taking Aaron requests… I would love if you write where Aaron and reader were in love in college but obviously life happened and they split apart and they meet up again all these years later and how you think their reuinion would go 🥹 ty

Hii, lovely🥰 ty for this cute request....hope you like it!! Warnings: fluff, mom!reader, use of y/n, mentions of school, (1.1k)

Aaron is running late. Nothing unusual with how busy he gets with the work, but it still bothers him. It's the parent-teacher conference, and he really didn't want to be late. Especially when he knows that Jack's teacher put him as the last parent of the day (knowing how long he works from previous experiences).

There is only one car in the school parking lot when Aaron finally arrives.

He basically sprints from his car to Jack's classroom, even though he called the teacher he would be late. Aaron knocks on the door, and comes in.

"Good evening," Aaron greets the teacher warmly, extending his right hand to her. " I'm sorry for being late. Thank you for waiting for me."

"It's no problem, Mr. Hotchner, " she says, "you aren't the only one late today." She adds with an amused smile.

"Oh, really? " Aaron's always the last one here, so he is a bit surprised to hear that.

"Yes, she should be here soon, too...-" the teacher replies, just as there's another knock on the door.

"Would it be a problem for you, Mr. Hotchner if I combined you two last parents of the day together?" the teacher asks. She, as expected, wants to go home already, too.

Aaron understands that more than anybody, " of course not. I don't mind at all." And why should he mind? Jack's always more than good in school, great grades and well-behaved. So he's not afraid for the other parent to hear that. He wouldn't be afraid even if Jack wasn't doing the best in school either.

"Thank you so much," the teacher says before she gets up, and opens the door.

The wind gets knocked out of Aaron.

It's you.

Fuck, it's really you.

And gosh. You look even more beautiful then he could remember.

You were just two young fools in college the last time he saw you. And now....And now Aaron can't believe his eyes. He should have known you would never grow out of your beauty.

"Aaron? Aaron Hotchner? Oh my god, is it really you?" You can't seem to believe the sight in front of you either.

Your eyes are wide open in shock, amd a small smile appears on your lips. He looks exactly as you thought he would.

Still so handsome, and the few streaks of white hair making him look it even more. And don't even get me started on the suit he wears.

"Yeah, it's me," he chuckles. Aaron stands up, and out of the routine he extends his hand out to you.

You completely ignore it (along with the etiquette of what's an appropriate greeting after seeing somebody after a long, long time), and embrace Aaron.

Aaron heart skips a beat, but he embraces you back. Maybe just a tiny bit less tightly than you.

The teacher watches this whole commotion in pure shock as she goes to sit down in her chair.

The click of her heels against the floor is the thing that brings you out of your delighted shock, and you pull away with a light blush on your face.

"I take it you two know each other?" the teacher jokes, and you and Aaron take the seats opposite her.

"Yes," you both say at the same time.

"Uh, college..." you also add. The teacher just politely nods, and starts talking about Jack and your son.

Oh god. You have a son, too! Aaron haven't even realised that you were there for the same reason as him since he's laid his eyes on you. It's all like a fever dream.

The counseling finally comes to an end, and Aaron is more than eager to get out of the class just to catch up with you for a bit.

As soon as you two exit the school, and head into the parking lot you are looking at each other.

"Oh my gosh, how long has it been, Aaron?" you question with a smile, and you look him over a few more times.

"More then 20 years," Aaron tells you with a same smile as yours. His eyes all over you, too.

"Oh, wow. We are getting old huh?" You chuckle. Aaron laughs a belly deep laugh.

Surprisingly, it's so good to hear that you both have the same laughs as you did in college. It stirs something in both of your chests.

"I am," Aaron says, "but you are definitely not." His compliment catches you off guard, yours cheeks heating up for whatever reason like some school girl's.

You smile sheepishly at him," you don't look too bad yourself."

Aaron only chuckles at your words. "So what are you doing here?" He asks, suddenly more serious and so much more curious. "I thought you lived across the world as a big lawyer...?"

You nod with an amused but a bit sad smile, " yes, but you know, life happened, and I got a pretty great offer for a position here so I just took it, and moved here a few weeks after that...."

"And I was actually wondering if you still lived here-" you get interrupted mid sentence by your phone ringing.

"I'm sorry," you say, and pick up the phone. It's clear that it's the nanny calling you, and Aaron knows you have to hurry home before you even hang up the phone.

With your phone in your pocket you tell Aaron with a regretful expression," I'm sorry, Aaron. I have to run home, the nanny can't stay much longer."

"No, it's totally okay. I should hurry home to Jack, too."

"I wish we could talk longer, Aaron, and catch up on things. Would you- Would you like to go for a coffee someday soon?" You hesitantly ask, and Aaron just thinks how there's no reason for you to be unsure of his answer, when he would always say yes.

"It's like you're reading my mind," Aaron smiles sincerely at you," I wanted to ask you the same thing. Here," he swiftly scribbles his personal number on his business card, and hands it to you.

"Call me?"

"Or you call me," you basically do the same thing with your personal number on your business card, and you hand it to him.

"I will," he promises, and you know he's honest with his intentions to do just that. You could always count on is words, his promises.

"Great, I'll see you soon then. Goodbye Aaron Hotchner." You say your goodbye. You want to get in your car as quickly as you can just to calm your racing heart.

"Goodbye, y/n." Aaron says softly, his eyes following your figure until you get in your car.

He even waits for you to drive off first just to make sure he didn't just imagine this whole thing.

And he is more than relieved to know he didn't.

And lets just say that Jack wonders why his dad keeps smiling so weirdly once Aaron finally gets home.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fluff

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chaeyoei · 5 months ago

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Hello :3 ,I had an idea while staying up late (it's 3am) and I was remembering school and so on, so I'm curious if you could write about HSR characters in school (as usual I want Blade and Aventurine;) and other characters if they're male or female (Kafka pls..) And how they act with the reader

All in all, have a good day/night (Any time.)

👀 we'll settle some things down then. Gender Neutral. These are personal opinions and my creative juices aren't flowing well.

Blade

Blade borderlines between Class delinquent and Bunker.

Blade was an A grade student but something happened and he lost all motivation and became who is he now.

You can expect school bully traits from him. He and his group are always in detention. It's become a daily basis.

His interaction with you would really just be him not acknowledging you or if you're close to him, he'll share his lunch with you.

Sliver Wolf

Sliver Wolf is the Kid who's going to be developing obbies in Roblox and just be a champion in digital games.

She's going to bunk classes and just grafiti the school wall.

If you ever see the username ChampionSliverWolf_0 in your game, just know that you're losing your one game streak.

She'd call you loser if you're really bad at games (me), and if you make for a good opponents, just expect from her to come up to you and go "Game night at 5 pal" And then leave.

Kafka

Makima Charm with Monkia's manipulation.

You know this woman is going to make you question your sexuality. She just has that charm. The one girl who's locker would be filled with love letters and roses.

If you ask anyone what they think she'd be in the future, 99 out of 100, you're going to hear model.

I think that her and Blade would be friends which nobody expected to happen but she would give her notes to Blade and in return Blade would protect her from the creeps. (No ship.)

Kafka would either be that one girl you can ask on how to charm your crush and she'll give you tips for some credits ofc.

Firefly

That one silent and shy girl that can kick ass and give you nasty looks if you bully her or her friends.

She's a goodey two shoes but she'd break rules for her friends.

I'd like to think she has a condition that limits her to have a few friends.

But I think she and Silver Wolf would get along pretty well. Silver Wolf would host a slumber party and invite Firefly, they play Mario kart and monopoly, munch on Cheetos and fall asleep.

Firefly, if you're a good friend would remain lighthearted and shy infront of you but boy if anyone ever bullies you, she's going to kick some ass.

Aventurine

That one kid who already has a business running. Need a pen? That'd be 10 credits, a new notebook? 25 credits. Gum? 5 credits.

He's really popular too. Heck he's somehow friends with the topper Ratio.

i think he'd be a shameless flirt. He'd have those right lines and rizz you up like it's nobody's business.

Herta

The Academic weapon. Doesn't even attend the class, shows up in the finals and scores the best with full marks and nobody knows who she even is.

honestly, nothing. She's not even attending. You either don't know her or do.

Robin

The popular girl who'd help you do your make up and is just nice. There's a chance that my Seele can crit more than the chance of anyone disliking her on planet Earth.

The most active and the lead of the choir.

She'd help you in everything, whether it'd be studies or getting you into a group.

Drabble and no long paragraph because my creative spirits have betrayed me like Dan Heng IL not coming home after I spent everything on him.

#hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #blade x reader #aventurine x reader #kafka x reader #silver wolf x reader #herta x reader #robin x reader #Firefly x reader

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emswritings · 6 months ago

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HIHI maybe u could do poly!marauders where reader is upset and they js cuddle her and make sure she's okay and stuff idk i thought it'd be cute

Let us hug you

Synopsis: you had a bad day, but the boys help cheer you up

Wordcount: 0.7k

Tags: poly!marauders x reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader gets a period

Authors note: tbh im not too used to writing hurt, so there isn't much

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's been a horrible day for you. First, you get your period and have absolutely horrid camps, then you spill your breakfast on your uniform. That makes you have to go back to your dorm and change, which causes you to be late to your first class, making you lose house points. All you wanted was a hug from your boys, but every time you tried they always had something they needed to do.

“Sorry dovey, I need to tutor some first years.”

“Later angel, me and Sirius have practice.”

So you were laying in Sirius’s bed, trying to make yourself feel better about the day. The tears were flowing freely as their words played on loop in your head. Logically, you knew they were busy, and you knew they weren’t avoiding you, but you couldn't help but feel as though they were.

When James and Sirius entered the dorm after practice, they were met with your sleeping form facing away from them. James coos softly, watching as Sirius makes his way over to you. He pushes your hair back from your head and sucks in a quiet breath when he sees the dried tear streaks on your face.

“Should we wait for Remus to get back?” James whispers, trying not to wake you yet. Sirius looks up at him and nods his head.

“Let's wait for her to wake up and then ask what's wrong.”

“Wait for who to wake up?” You asked grogily, turning over to face Sirius and James. They jump, then turn towards you smiling.

“You, lovey,” James says, walking towards you on the bed. You sit up and make room for him beside you, leaning into his side when he does.

“Why?” You ask. You look between them, then groan when yet another cramp hits you. Leaning more on James now, you wrap your arms around his middle and groan, “missed you guys today.”

James and Sirius exchange a look, but they don't have a chance to say anything, because Remus comes into the dorm.

“Those first years are getting better and better each time we meet. I think they have a really good chance of getting an O on their next test. Woah, what's wrong dove?” He asks, just now seeing how unwell you looked, and how worried his two boyfriends looked.

“I don't feel good,” you whine quietly, looking up at Remus when he comes over to feel your forehead.

“Oh yeah? What doesn’t feel good lovey?” James asks, running a hand up and down your arm. You sigh, but respond, “it has just been a bad day, and I couldn’t hug any of you, because every time I tried, someone was busy. I know that's not your fault or anything, and I'm not mad at any of you, but still.”

Sirius coos, and sits down at the foot of your bed. “Well, how about this: how about we push some beds together, and cuddle while you tell us what made the day so horrible. Sounds good?” You smile at him and nod, letting out a small, “yeah.”

Sirius and Remus get to work on pushing James’s bed next to where Sirius’s bed is already at. You watch as they get comfortable, and smile when Sirius tells you to go ahead and start the story.

“Well, this morning I got my period, and have been hit with cramps all day. Then, I spilled breakfast on my uniform, so I had to go change, which made me late to Slughorn's class, who took away house points. It sounds a little silly now that I say it aloud, but, I don't know, I just wanted a hug all day.” You finish your mini rant, and change your position so you're laying down.

“I’m sorry love, that had to suck. But we’re here now, so we can lay here as long as you want, alright?” Sirius asks you, smiling when he sees your nod.

So that's where you stay. At least until dinner, then the boys do rock, paper, scissors to see who is going to get everyone dinner. James and Sirius end up being the two losers, so they go down to the great hall, and Remus takes the chance to pull you close to him. Your front is pressed up against his, and you smile against his chest, and wrap your arms around his middle. You can't be sure, but you're almost certain you heard him whisper “love you” against your hairline.

James and Sirius come back, and you sit up to eat dinner, then you spend the rest of the night laughing and cuddling, falling asleep in eachothers arms.

#poly!marauders x reader #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black #marauders #marauders era #harry potter marauders #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders imagine

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pedge-page · 6 months ago

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I'm new to ur page idk if this is done but I...I want Joel to piss inside a plushie....

Puddles - a Plushies x PK drabble

Notes: I've been waiting to write this one so here we go! Can read more plushies!Joel through Plushies Series masterlist, though they can all be read as standalone fics

Warnings: Pisskink!Joel, piss kink, Drunk!Joel, solo masturbation with a stuffed animal, yes he is pissing inside poor plushie, plushie fucking briefly

18+ ONLY

- - - -

He may have gone a little bit overboard when Tommy invited him for the crew’s so-called ‘happy hour get together’. He knew they all liked to go out and celebrate with a few drinks after completing a project, and this last one they just wrapped up for some posh client with outrageous requests was no different.

Joel usually liked to skip out on them. First, because he didn’t want to know what these clowns might be up to when they get tipsy, letting whatever sober-less things go on follow his mind to the next job site. But also because he’s getting too old for that college level shit. Hangovers aren’t nearly as fun when you’re pushing well past middle age.

But, he didn’t want to be home alone since you were going to be working late.

So, two beers turned into twelve and a few more various alcohol spiked beverages here and there, and boom. Joel’s swaying side to side along the sidewalk with Tommy guiding him all the way up the front door.

“You sure you don’t need me, brother?” Tommy asks hesitantly.

Joel, with lolling eyes and a grin, confidently waves him off after successfully entering his key into the door after 6 tries.

He stumbles through into the dark alone, and the first thing that hit him is how badly he wants to curl up on your plushie filled bed. He thought about you all night; your shampoo filling his nose when you cuddle him, the smooth streak of your naked back when you finish a shower, the wet indulgence of your pussy when he eats you out.

He’s never going to admit it, but the man is clingy as shit when you’re around. And he’s craving some much needed plushie pussy time.

Shit, the alcohol is really swimming in his brain.

And, he realizes, with a firm and shiver-some squeeze to his crotch, elsewhere in his body.

Ironically, the bathroom is not what beckons him.

With a devious smirk, he instead tumbles into the bedroom. Through the moonlit drapes, a wave of beady eyed babies stare back at him.

“Hello freaks,” he chuckles. They probably miss you too. Honestly it’s really rude, if you think about it, the way you abandon your buddies here AND Joel all in one night? Atrocious behavior. Someone ought to teach you better.

“Daddy’s home."

He falls forward, his knees catching the edge of the bed. An array of colorful volunteers practically jumping up and down at his presence to be engulfed by the precious aroma of Joel Miller.

That’s how drunk-Joel is seeing it. In reality, if they could run for their fluffy lives, they would.

A quick hand snatches one yellow blob by its neck. His eyes struggle to get a clear picture—whether from the alcoholic haze or the darkness obscuring his vision. Possibly both. The dark bill and flappy arms come into focus.

“Duck,” he muses to himself. “Bet ya name is Duckie, some shit like that. She ain't good with the namein.” He rolls the unfortunate one over to its back, inspecting its caliber. Its definitely older: matted fur smushed down in certain areas, lack of vibrant coloring, some faded and torn edged fabric on its bow tie. Bitty holes sewn up here and there with mismatched (and poorly seemed) threaded needle. Your college waitressing job used to be for a place called the Quavern, so this little guy’s gotta be your graduation farewell from that team.

“Well mister Quakers. You n' me gonna get to know each other real well right now. Got something I need ya to hold f’me,” Joel slurs. One hand frees the button of his jeans while the other begins to prod at a loose tear in poor DuckDuck’s underside. He pokes and prods and scissors a little too harshly with his sausage fingers before a tell-tale rip echoes in the room. “Oops,” he chuckles with very little guilt as he forces the hole a bit wider and palms his crotch a bit harder.

Yeah, he gets hard when touching your stuffed animals. He can’t help it! With all the naughty activities you do with them, they’re practically hug buddies by day, sex toy by night. His mind feels foggy, but the building sensation along his lower stomach is the only thing churning his actions. With a few lazy pumps, Joel slots his mushroom tip at the cottony hole he’s made in the poor plush. He pushes through, groaning with his head tossed slightly back as dry softness envelops his pulsing length.

“Shit—that’s it. Take it little guy.” He bites his lips and peers below, watching his dick penetrate the stuffed animal.

He knows he should put it down, sew it up, put it back, and go do his business in the bathroom like a good, well trained boyfriend. But then again, he knows how fucking pissed you’ll be if he defiles your plushies again. Then you’ll never leave him unattended at home, and that means more pussy drinking and rubbing on these fuckers for him.

Joel doesn’t even realize he’s pissing inside the poor animal until it starts to sag heavily with the weight and wetness coating his hand. “Ooohhhhhhhhhh,” he gasps with furrowed brows. As his bladder empties, the duck grows damper and darker, the fur and cotton soaking it up from the inside out until it’s dripping down his ballsack. He thrusts inside a few times, the warm wet sensation making him choke out a curse. It’s not quite like your pussy, but the heat is better than nothing. He pushes it flush against his pubic bone, another rush of liquid hissing through and muffled by Mr Quack’s soft innards.

If he wasn’t so fucking wasted right now, he’d fuck it into oblivion. give it the good ol'Miller beating. Fertilize its eggs, if you will. But with his bathroom situation now relieved, Joel yanks the thing off and chucks it to the ground. His brain collapses just as he falls towards the bed, drowning in his own much needed slumber.

you shake your head and laugh, hands on your hips at the sight in front of you.

Joel’s out cold face forward in your bed. His jeans are loosely wrapped around his hips and his old tee still on, so if it wasn’t for his loud snoring, you’d assume the man was dead. He hadn’t even made it fully on the bed, his tip toes still holding him up on the floor and legs dangling at an angle.

A few of your stuffed animals had managed to crawl out from underneath him, scattered around when he most likely dropped onto the bed. You pick them up one by one: dusty Carly the Crow, the now famed Mr Oinkers (with battery pack turned OFF), Whiskers the Cat, and poor old Puddles the Duc—

Your disgusted screech has Joel sitting up so fast he nearly capsizes off the bed. The confused, hungover lump is met with his bewildered and screaming girlfriend who’s yanking him by the neck and wringing him viciously with as much might as you can muster.

“STOP—FUCKING—PISSING—IN—MY—PLUSHIES!” You roar with wild eyes and gritted teeth, choking him within an inch of his life. You shake his neck up and down like you’re going to hammer his head into the bed post.

It takes him a moment, with wide eyes and hands wrapped around your wrists, before his gaze lands on the poorly discarded evidence of last night: a very overly yellow duck soaking into the floor boards in a puddle of liquid gold.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow

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kekaki-cupcakes · 1 year ago

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Hi could you please write one where reader gets assigned as Leo's tutor cuz he's failing math so they go to his house for her to teach him math but they just end up making out instead (like, HEATED making out, like, very intensely)

I'm sorry but the Bad Boy Supreme is not failing his maths classes. So I changed it to English :] enjoy the 2.6k of golden hour! <3

Studying no longer means student dying---Leo Valdez x Tutor!reader [making out. a lot]

»»————-　★　————-««

You sipped your apple juice and set the cup down, watching Leo continue to rest his forehead on the textbooks spread out in front of you on the cold concrete floor that you were sprawled across to fight the summer heat. “Are you just gonna go to sleep, or?”

“Why,” he said with a voice that was definitely smirking. It made your stomach feel funny. “You tryna get into my-”

“No, I’m trying to get into your mum’s wallet, actually,” you shot back, and finished your drink, the ice clinking around the bottom of the glass. You knew you’d won the argument and just waited for Leo to remember that he actually needed to pay attention if he wanted to not fail his class instead of bugging him.

The flock of birds in the sky around your balcony both squawked and swooped at each other, acting a lot like you both this late afternoon as Leo tried to put off studying for as long as he could and you made a new playlist as he groaned and flopped about on the pillows you’d brought in from the couch.

You were glad you weren’t the one having to concentrate because you didn’t think you’d be able to if Leo insisted on sitting there in the light of golden hour.

“All you have to do is read this one act, and then answer a few of the questions your teacher set. Then you’re done, okay?” You said a few minutes later when Leo hadn’t moved. “It’ll take twenty minutes at most. Besides, you’re a genius.”

Leo sat up with eyes squinted against the bright and then glared at the dog eared energy drink stained paperback sitting on the piles of worksheets and your laptops.

You glanced at the streaks beneath his eyes and then down to his hands. He had very pretty hands, only his finger-nails had been bitten down til the skin around them was red and torn. You wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand, but you just tried for a comforting smile, “you really don’t want to do this, do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I just can’t…” Leo said, staring out at the powerlines and tops of trees in front of him. He grinned and waved a hand, “anyways, I’ve got a much better id-”

“If this is another sex joke I’m pushing you off the balcony,” you said bluntly, and then let your tone soften. “Don’t just change the subject, because you can’t change your subjects. You have to do this.”

“I know!” Leo burst, his voice breaking, and then pulled his knees to his chest and screwed up his eyes, arms around his legs. “I- I’m sorry. That was loud.”

You gave him a moment to slow down his breathing and rub his face tiredly before you spoke. “If you can tell me, why do you think you can’t read?”

“I can do it, like, I’m not dumb.” he said defensively, and turned away a little, his chin on knee. “But it’s so hard to just start reading when I know that it’ll take me ages and give me a headache and I won’t get what they’re saying anyway. It’s stupid-”

You reached out and grabbed his hand at that last part, watching him whip around with a red face. “You’re not dumb, or stupid. And, Leo, not everyone’s good at everything. You’re just so math-y that you need a weakness. And it’s not your fault your brain is doing that self preservation thing, it knows that you’ll hate what you’re about to do, so it’s trying to protect you.”

Leo sniffled and nodded quickly, his little grin hidden by his arm as he hunched over. You squeezed his hand. “Don’t be mean to your brain when it’s just trying to look after you.”

“Okay… okay.” he said, and sat up, face red while he grinned harder. The sun glowed behind him like a halo and made his dark curls light up. “...Thanks.”

“All good,” you said, pretending not to notice how he didn’t stop clutching your hand. It made your chest light so you smiled at him. “Now, how about I read one character and you read the other?”

»»————-　★　————-««

“I brought Starbucks!”

You looked up from your laptop and pulled your headphones out of your ears, the white cords tangling round your fingers as you stuffed them into your pocket. “Hey Valdez.”

“Hey yourself,” Leo said, doing that thing with his face where he tried not to smile. It was endearing, but his smile itself was just as cute. He put the drinks down on the ground next to you and collapsed onto the cushion he’d claimed, digging through his bulky backpack full of robotics club things and pulled out a few pieces of paper stapled together. He was waving it far too happily for you to read anything so you waited for him to burst. “I got a C!”

“No way,” you breathed, and then leapt up and grabbed the paper. It was his essay response you’d helped him study for last week. He got a C. “No way! Dude, that’s amazing!”

“Who knew I could be so good at English,” he smirked, hands in the pockets of his green army jacket. Then he let out a little yelp when you pulled him into a tight hug that smelt like machinery grease and incense and his laundry detergent.

You sat back down and let him pull out his things a minute later, sipping the drink he’d brought over once your fridge had started to complain about its empty shelves. You couldn’t help that snacks were just great for studying. And the chocolate wafers seemed to motivate Leo greatly.

“I thought your English teacher hated you,” you said, not really knowing how that situation had gone down. You didn’t know any of his teachers really, except the principal that had contacted you first, after you’d done tutoring for a few of her other students.

You went to the school a few blocks from Leo’s, but you’d gone to primary school together and only lived a street apart. Teachers preferred tutors from other schools, because then they knew that their students weren’t just copying each-others work. It wasn’t a very full proof plan, but you hadn’t complained when Leo had shown up with a bag over his shoulder and equally as large ones under his eyes.

It’d been a semester and they were still there, but when he grinned at you, it wasn’t fake.

He waved his hand away, “nah, she got fired cause she started selling weed to the year twelves before their exams or something, I dunno. I got a new one, Mr Blofis, he’s kinda weird, but he’s nice. And he brings swords in sometimes.”

“Why didn’t we think of that before?” you scoffed sarcastically, moving your books away as Leo dumped a binder as thick as the dictionary in front of you both. “I should’ve brought weapons to help you concentrate.”

“Shuddup,” Leo muttered, picking up his drink that he probably shouldn’t have considering how much caffeine was in there, but he started sculling it anyway, and handed over the new book his class was studying.

»»————-　★　————-««

Leo glared at you.

It wasn’t a look you were used to, so you lowered your laptop screen and raised your eyebrows. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He fumed in the doorway leading to the balcony you’d spent endless hours on together, his shoulders bunched up and his bulky backpack slipping from his grip. Then he stormed forwards and held out a sheet of paper in your face, “I found this, today.”

“Huh?” You asked, sitting up and taking the form from him, assuming he’d failed an assignment, but then he’d be mad at himself, not you. You’d hug him and he’d complain about teachers for a little bit then you’d go inside and play Mario Kart and eat chocolate wafers that would get stuck in his teeth.

Your eyes widened as you scanned the document. “...Right.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Leo snapped, “I’ve been wasting your afternoons for ages when my tutoring was over months ago!”

You looked down at your socks and wrung your hands together while you tried to think of what to say. It was true, though. Leo’s mum had stopped paying and the school had stopped sending emails, but apparently no one had told Leo that. Including you. He stood above you, shaking with anger.

Leo screwed his face up, “I’m not a charity case, I don’t need you to lie to me about-”

“You were never a charity case, Leo,” you interrupted before he went on a misplaced tangent as he tended to do. Then you rolled your eyes kindly. “And you never wasted my afternoons.”

“But-”

“It was selfish,” you said bluntly, and tried for a smile. “I just really like you.”

Leo’s shoulders sank, and he blinked stupidly. “Huh?”

“I pretended you had to come over longer than you needed to so I could keep hanging out with you, but I get that I was just forcing you to do schoolwork, it was mean.” You understood that he was going to leave now, he had no fake reasons to stay and lay his legs over your lap and make stupid jokes until dinner time.

At least he’d know he was never a charity case. “You’re getting C’s and B’s in all of you essays now, and you’ve got that grammar checker too, so the school ended the contract.”

He didn’t say anything. You sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You really like me?”

“That’s what you got from that?” You raised an eyebrow. Then you patted the cushion next to you and Leo plopped onto it immediately, eyes wide. Then you squinted at him. “What were you even upset about? At the end of the day, you were getting free tutoring anyway.”

Leo shrugged, “I’m sure there was a reason.”

“You’ve forgotten, haven't you.”

“But you like me?”

“You get very fixated, don’t you?” You smiled, and turned to afternoon sun fading over the powerlines and birds flitting around. Then you opened your arm over his shoulder and hugged him. “Course I like you, Valdez. Even if you eat all my food.”

“Not my fault you’ve got good food.”

He was incredibly close. It made you face heat up because his hair was tickling your shoulder and his fingers tapped randomly on the space between you. Maybe it’d been selfish to not tell him, but god, it was sort of worth getting to see him a few times during the week.

Leo was just so pretty.

He glanced at you, “what?”

“Nothing,” you answered quickly, looking away from the little spatter of freckles across his nose and the warmth of his eyes.

Then he poked your side with a curious grin, “what?”

“Nothing!” you shot back, wiggling away from his nimble fingers that tried to tickle you as he laughed. You kicked at his legs gently to scramble back through the pillows, laughing as you did so. “Hey!”

Leo slipped and made an odd yelping sound, then he managed to crash into you.

You rubbed your face, chuckling, at his clumsiness. You sat up. Leo stared up at you with a red face, his shaky arms holding himself up on either side of you. He gulped, eyes moving between yours quickly.

It was at this point that you both should’ve pulled away and laughed, going back to finding snacks and laughing over nothing, but then that window passed and Leo was turner redder by the second. His eyes moved away from your eyes slowly, and you reached to slide your fingers next to his slowly.

Leo’s chest rose and fell quickly. “I, uh… I really like you too.”

“I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s-”

“Yes!”

You paused for a moment as his eyes crinkled and he grinned, ducking his head. Then you lifted his chin up a little bit and you watched his pupils visibly expand.

“God, you’re so-” You cut yourself off, using his soft cracked lips to do so. The first thing you registered was Leo’s hands moving closer to you instantly and the way your eyes fluttered shut without warning.

You pressed your lips to his harder and pulled back, breathless. He blinked up at you, eyes wide, and you reached out to pull him closer again, your fingers sliding along his jaw and holding his face. He scooted closer, kneeling between your legs and clutching the belt loops of your jeans while you pressed kiss after kiss to his lips.

He tilted his head and you gave him a second before you opened your mouth against his, realizing that you really were kissing the boy you’d been daydreaming about for months. Holy shit. It was better than you’d imagined, the way his breath fanned out over you when he kissed your open mouth back, tasting like strawberry gum and softness.

When you took another breath, stealing a glance at Leo’s puffy lips and red face, but he pulled you back into the embrace, your shirt balled up in his fist.

Teeth clashed together. You jerked back at the awful feeling and began to laugh, wiping at your mouth. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” Leo choked, blinking rapidly. He looked around and a grin spread across his face. He was panting. “I’d be getting A’s if you kissed me instead of yelled, y’know.”

“I beg to differ,” you said, letting go of his jaw. Your fingernails had left little dints in his cheeks, but he didn’t look like he cared at all. You rested your hands on his waist and smirked. “I think you’d fail all your classes.”

“True,” he squeaked, breath catching.

You narrowed your eyes at him and slowly moved your hands up a little bit, fingers tracing his sides cautiously.

You’d asked to kiss him, not pull weird sounds out of his throat and have him bury his head in your neck, but that’s what happened. As your fingers caught on the edge of his shirt, you whispered quietly to him. “Is this okay?”

Leo just nodded frantically, his hot breath landing on the patch of skin where your neck and shoulder met. When your fingers touched his warm skin he grinned, his mouth brushing you. You felt the shiver that ran up him under the pads of your fingers, and you decided you liked it.

He pressed his face tightly against you, hands curling around the back of your collar.

Your chest tightened at the feeling of his lips and you dug your nails into the squishy part of Leo’s hips. It was a bad habit but it got you a firm kiss on your neck, even if it was accidental.

Leo pulled back enough for him to look up at you, cheeks dusted with pink and lips puffy. He smiled the tiniest bit, but you could see a question in it and you answered by moving your hands to his back, rubbing circles.

It was only at this point did you realize that he had sharp teeth, but as he chewed at your skin softly and licked it afterwards like an apology, you weren’t complaining.

Neither was Leo, obviously. He left sore spots and his hair brushed your ear. His teeth picked you apart. You felt like rubber under his warm hands and wide grin, but then your hands traced his ribs because he’d begun sucking on a tender spot beneath your jaw.

He insisted on leaving bruises you would have to cover up later. Maybe he’d take it as a challenge. Hopefully.

He pecked kisses along your kissed out skin until he reached your lips again.

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #leovaldez #leo valdez #Leo Valdez x reader #pjo x reader #Leovaldez #Leo Valdez x y/n #Leo Valdez x you

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doumadono · 5 months ago

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hi!! I've never requested something, so sorry if this is a little awkward or something!

could you write a comfort fic where female reader has troubles at home, her mom abusive and dad nowhere to be seen, and cps is called, gets taken away and all that? and the first person she feels she can call is bakugo?

just had this idea because im very close to being taken away and i feel like nobody really understands nor cares, so im relying on characters >_< have a good day!

Never leave you behind - Bakugo x Reader

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

You sat on your bed, knees pulled to your chest, tears streaming down your face. The sounds of your mother yelling and throwing things downstairs reverberated through the walls. Your father, as usual, was nowhere to be found, leaving you to bear the brunt of her anger. You clutched your phone, feeling utterly alone, the weight of your situation crushing you.

This wasn't the first time CPS had been called. But this time, you felt like it would be the last. There had been whispers at school, concerned glances from teachers, and finally, the call had been made. You'd heard your mother on the phone earlier, her voice a venomous hiss, blaming you for everything, as if you were the root of all her problems.

The doorbell rang, a sharp sound that made you flinch. You heard the muffled conversation, then heavy footsteps approaching your room.

The door creaked open, and a kind-faced social worker stepped in, looking at you with a mix of pity and determination. "Hi, I'm here to take you somewhere safe," she said gently.

You nodded, too tired and numb to argue. You packed a small bag with the essentials and followed her out, not daring to look back at your mother's furious face.

In the car, as the cityscape blurred past the window, you felt a desperate urge to reach out to someone. Someone who might understand, who might care. Without overthinking, you pulled out your phone and dialed the number you'd memorized by heart. It rang twice before a familiar, gruff voice answered.

"What's up?" Katsuki Bakugo's voice was as abrasive as ever, but there was an underlying note of concern that only those close to him could detect.

"Katsuki," you choked out, your voice breaking. "I… I need you."

There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by the sound of rustling. "Where are you?" he demanded, his tone urgent.

You gave him the address of the temporary foster home you'd been assigned to. "Please, just come," you whispered, barely holding it together. "I'll message you the address once I know it..."

"I'm on my way," he said, and the line went dead.

The next hour passed in a haze. The foster home was a modest, clean place with friendly enough people, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being utterly lost.

You gave the address to Bakugo, and before you knew it, he was there, his presence a solid, comforting force in the swirling chaos of your emotions.

The foster family, a middle-aged couple with kind eyes but wary expressions, were reluctant to let him in. They exchanged glances, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of a teenage boy visiting so late.

"Please," you begged, gripping Bakugo's hand tighter. "He’s the only one I trust."

They hesitated, their concern evident, but eventually, they agreed. "Just for a little while," the foster mother said, her voice firm yet understanding.

He instantly took one look at your tear-streaked face and clenched his fists, anger flashing in his eyes — but it wasn’t directed at you. And suddenly he hugged you.

For a moment, you stiffened, not used to this side of him. But then the warmth of his arms around you, the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, broke through the walls you'd built around yourself.

You clung to him, sobs wracking your body as you finally let out all the pain and fear you'd been holding in.

Bakugo didn't say anything, just held you tighter, his chin resting on top of your head.

Eventually, your sobs subsided, and you pulled back slightly, looking up at him. His face was a mix of anger and concern, his usual fiery eyes softened by worry.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked, his voice rough.

You shrugged, wiping your eyes. "I didn't want to bother you. You have your own stuff to deal with."

"Idiot," he muttered, but there was no heat in his words. He cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You're never a bother, got it? Next time, you tell me. No matter what."

You nodded, feeling a small smile tug at your lips. "Got it."

The dam broke, and you began to sob, the weight of your situation crashing down on you.

Bakugo hesitated for a moment before awkwardly wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. His grip was firm, reassuring. "It's gonna be okay," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "We'll figure this out. And I'll never leave you behind. Let my contact Aizawa-sensei. I'm sure he'll help us solve your problem."

#emergency request #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo fic #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha x reader #bakugo blurb #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #mha x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha fluff #bnha fluff

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helaelaemond · 1 year ago

Text

Teach Me Your Touch - Michael Gavey x Reader

HELAELAEMOND’S KINKTOBER

thank you @arcielee for the banner!

Pairing: Michael Gavey x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: You missed a lecture and have your classmate Michael Gavey share his notes and help you catch up. He's not good at teaching, and he makes you feel stupid. He makes you feel bad. When you cry, he wants to fuck you all better.

Content warning(s): light elements of bullying (prior to smut), feelings of intellectual inferiority

KINK CATEGORIES: public sex, crying, inexperience/loss of virginity (male), fingering (female receiving)

Rating: E

Tagging those who showed interest: @llemes @assortedseaglass @sapphire-writes @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @humanpurposes @underjeno @st-eve-barnes @arcielee @babyblue711

Michael's voice is snappy. "Are you listening to me?"

You look up at him in defeat. "Yes, I'm trying! But I don't-"

"I can't make it any clearer!"

You lean forward on the table and rest your head in your hands. "You're making me feel stupid."

He huffs. "Maybe you are."

Arsehole. Why did you even ask him for his help? You know he's a dickhead, but he's also smart. Last semester, you worked on a group project with him and although he was terrible working with other people, his understanding of the subject was unmatched. He's like a walking calculator, for God's sake, and that intellect seems to apply to every module.

Besides, last time, he had a mean streak, but he also seemed to soften with you. You're not exactly a bombshell, but you're still a woman, and he's a lonely man. You were kind to him last time you worked together, and it made him kinder, too.

Whatever rapport once existed between you, though, seems to have faded. Now, you're sat on the second floor of Radcliffe library under the tall arched ceilings at 2am. No one else is around to see your shame, thankfully.

It's been a long time since you've felt simple. You shouldn't feel stupid - you're on the same course as him! You only missed one lecture! It shouldn't be this hard!

"You're not making it easy to understand," you mumble.

"What?" he asks, irritated.

You lift your head and look at him, eyes red. "My mind doesn't work as quick as yours. I need you to explain it differently."

He blinks at you from behind his thick glasses, and you watch as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing above his buttoned collar. "Right. Fine. You did the reading, and you understand that a tangled hierarchy is a hierarchical consciousness system in which a strange loop appears. Right?"

Clenching your jaw, you nod. "That much I understand, Michael. I'm not as simple as you think."

"I don't think you're simple. I think you're acting simple."

It's too late and you're too tired. Hot tears spill down your cheeks. "You're acting mean."

"What?" He has the audacity to look shocked. "I'm helping!"

"No, you're not." You stand up and shove your notes into your rucksack hastily, along with your pens and library copy of the required reading. "You've spent the last three hours making me feel stupid and small and unintelligent, and you've enjoyed every second."

"No!" he protests angrily. "Don't tell me how I feel!"

"Alright! Well, that's how you've made me feel! And that's not fair! God, I really thought-" You cut yourself off and take a deep breath. But you're still crying, and it's embarrassing, and you furiously wipe away your tears. They're quickly replaced.

Michael stands up and follows you as you stalk off down the rows and rows of bookcases. He calls your name, but you ignore him. It's loathsome how hearing him say it gives you butterflies. "Will you just wait?" he shouts.

You whirl around to face him, making your rucksack fall off your shoulder and onto the floor. The noise echoes in the cavernous library, and you're suddenly very aware of how empty it is of other people. It didn't bother you before. It doesn't exactly bother you now, either, but... but there's something intense about the way he looks at you. It's angry, it's apprehensive, it's... it makes your skin crawl.

"What is it, Michael?" you ask. You're caught somewhere between anger and weariness.

"It's not my fault you feel stupid," he says defiantly.

"For the love of-"

"Because you're not stupid. You're just acting it. Like I said."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He swallows. "Yes. You're not as smart as me. But that doesn't mean you're stupid."

You laugh dryly. "I don't know why I was ever nice to you. You have no interest in being nice to me."

Again, confusion flickers over his face. "I agreed to help you, didn't I? that's nice!"

"I think you only agreed to it so you could make me feel like dirt." You pick up your bag again and continue your way to the stairs that will take you down to the main entrance. You're still crying. He's absolutely shattered you tonight, and it's not fair.

Suddenly, there's a hand around your wrist, and it stops you in your tracks. It becomes abundantly clear that Michael Gavey is far stronger than he looks. You're left breathless when, out of nowhere, he pulls you between tall bookcases. He towers over you. You've always noticed how tall he is. Despite his somewhat bookish appearance, there's something about him that has always been nice to look at. Perhaps it's his thick hair, or his sharp jaw, or his pretty blue eyes. Something about him, despite his nasty streak, makes you wish he approved of you.

"Stop crying."

You sniff and look up at him in shame. "I'm trying."

"Try harder."

That makes your face crumple again. "Leave me alone."

"I want to help."

"Let me go."

"You're kind to me," he says, his voice suddenly quieter. When he says your name, it cracks. "I'm trying to make you feel better."

"It's not working."

"Teach me," he whispers. The intensity with which he is now looking at you in almost too much.

"Say something nice about me."

"Oh. Um." His hand loosens slightly on your wrist. You're all too aware of how clammy it is against your skin. You don't care. Any touch from him is, unfortunately, welcome. "Your work on our projective geometry project was good."

"I know it was."

"Alright." He licks his lips. His eyes dart to yours. "You're... good at explaining things in different ways. I'm not."

You sniff, and look down at your feet. His body is close to yours, and your gaze catches something in his trousers. Perhaps his zipper is caught on something. Or perhaps... perhaps...

Your heart races.

"Why did you agree to help me?" you ask, eyes still downcast.

"You asked."

"Why?"

"I..."

"Tell me the truth, Michael."

"Um."

It's so late, and you're so tired. The uncertainty makes the tears fall again. Your head hurts so much. "I'm going."

Michael cries out your name throatily. In a heartbeat, he grasps your shoulders and pushes you against the bookcase, and then his tall, lean body is pressed against yours and his clammy hands find their place on your neck. "Don't cry," he tells you. His face comes closer to yours. His glasses begin to steam up.

"You've done this to me."

"I want to make you feel better. But..."

"But?"

"But you're so pretty when you cry."

And then he kisses you.

It is messy, wet, and needy. He doesn't hesitate to push his tongue against yours, and his glasses press against your face. It should make you squirm away. But it makes you whimper quietly. Your bag drops to the floor, and your hands fly to his narrow hips. You open your mouth wide against his desperately, your teeth clinking against his, and he mirrors you until your lips, your cheeks, your nose, are wet with his spit.

He doesn't know what he's doing. You hardly do, either. And it's so fucking good.

"Michael," you whisper between hard and deep kisses.

He groans your name. "I've thought about this since we first met."

"You thought about me?"

He nods, before burying his face in your throat. His greedy mouth kisses up and down before they settle where your neck and shoulder meet, and he sucks. At his hips, your hands ball into fists around his belt. The carabiner he wears on it with a collection of USBs knocks against your fingers and you tug on it.

You want to fuck him.

"Yeah," he murmurs against your skin. "Think about you in lectures. What I wanna do to you."

To you. Not with you. God, that should make you want to leave. Instead, you resolve to stay.

"Yeah?" you ask breathlessly. "Show me."

"Okay."

Nervous sweat dampens his forehead, but you don't care. You feel it when he presses it against yours and palms you over your jacket. Your soft bra is padded, and you can hardly feel his touch. It's driving you mad. In frustration, you unbutton your shirt quickly and look up at him. "Touch me. Please, Michael, please-"

He breathes loudly through his mouth. His lips are wet with sailva; he's practically drooling. He hesitates.

"Have you been with a woman before?" you ask, chest heaving with need.

His grits his teeth, anger flashing across his face at the question, the mere insinuation that this is his first time. You take that as a no.

So it's your turn to teach him. But just from his desperate kisses, you're almost blind with desire, and there's not much patience left in you. So you pull your breast free from its cup, and press on the back of his head. He's so fucking tall. "Kiss me here," you whine softly. "Suck my nipple."

He is a better pupil than tutor. Perhaps, if you were less aroused, you would tell him to be gentler. But as it is, his eagerness is rough and hard and just what you need. The sharp pull of his mouth sends electricity through you, from your head to your toes, and you arch up against him.

"Your hand," you tell him. "Down my trousers. You thought about that, right?"

Against your breast, he nods. He bites your nipple, and you dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet. It's the middle of the night, but anyone could walk in.

He fumbles with your button and zipper, and then his hand is down the front of your jeans and you spread your legs. He palms you hard, and instinctively, you grind against the touch.

"Let me show you something." Your breathing is laboured already, just like his. He releases your breast from his mouth and meets your gaze with pupils blown wide. You feel your heartbeat under his hand.

You wriggle your jeans down to your knees and then push down your underwear too, enough that you can spread your legs and cover his hand with yours. You guide his long fingers against your cunt, and it takes no time at all to show him how hot and swollen your clit is.

"Like that," you whisper as you press his digits into a firm and fast pace.

"God," he whimpers. "You're so... you're wet."

You nod. "Yeah. Means I want you."

Without needing to be guided this time, his touch strays down, and he presses his middle finger through your folds. When he finds your entrace and slips inside, he moans so loudly that you have to clamp your hand over his mouth.

His eyes are wide and pleading with you. He watches your face so closely as he pushes a second finger inside of you, and he kisses and sucks at your palm against his mouth.

"That's good," you tell him quietly, nodding your head. "Rub circles around my clit with your thumb. Oh, God, yeah, like that. That's good, Michael. Oh, God, don't stop."

When your hand against his mouth goes slack, he takes the opportunity to kiss you again. He shoves his tongue back into your mouth and it's so messy, so needy so erotic, that you have to quickly push his hand away depsite your previous order.

"What?" he asks, suddenly panicked. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," you gasp. "Gonna make me come already."

His cheeks flush a deep red. "Really?"

He grins lopsidedly, and you whine, "want you inside."

Gulping, and with shaking hands, he unbuckles his belt and the clink of metal seems to echo loudly in the cavernous hall. He shuffles his trousers down his hips, mirroring you, and you look down to see how his hard cock strains against the soft briefs he wears. God, there shouldn't be anything sexy about the y-fronts he's sporting, but you can see the thick outline of him, his heavy balls, and its maddening.

Neither of you care that you're in public now. He pushes his underwear down, too, and when you whisper for him to lift you up, he does it with surprising easy. You kick your trousers and underwear off, spread your legs for him, and grasp the bookshelves at your back for support. His arms are hooked under your thighs and he watches with glasses slipping down his nose as his cock lines up against you.

Instinct takes over. He shoves his cock through your folds, back and forth, coating himself with your arousal, and he presses over your clit with his tip time and time again.

He moans your name too loudly.

"Shh," you soothe, as if you're not fighting with all of your strength to stay quiet. "God, that feels good."

"Inside?" he asks, unable to take his eyes off his cock on your cunt.

"If you want."

"I do." He meets your gaze. There's a vulnerability in him that you haven't seen before. And then you clench, and he feels your muscles tighten, and desire wins out. After a moment of slipping through you, he presses his blunt head against you, and pushes into you in one, swift movement.

The speed takes you by surprise. He's bigger than the vibrator you've been satisfied with lately, but that's alright. You're wet and throbbing, relaxed enough to take him. But it's still a stretch, albeit a blissful one. It's a stretch that borders the line between sweet and stinging, and tears prick your eyes. Good tears, this time.

"Okay?" he asks, voice cracking.

They drip down your cheeks but you smile, biting your lip, and nod. "Yeah. Hard. Go hard, Michael. Need- God, need you!"

And he does as you tell him. "Think about you," he grunts as he thrusts hard and fast. He's on the tip of his toes, knees bent, as he sets a brutal pace that has your body aflame. "All the... fuck, all the time. Oh! Oh!"

You clamp your hand back over his mouth to stifle his moans, and they dissolve into whimpers that match his hard, laboured breaths. They come through his nose and make the skin of your hand prickle. Michael grips your hips hard enough to bruise and it's so good, it's so fucking good. He wants you, he needs you. That's why he agreed to help you. That's why he accepted your kindness.

He likes you. Buried six inches deep in you, you realise this. It makes you bury your face into his neck, and you bite his earlobe. He whimpers in response. "Shh," you soothe.

"Close," he groans against your hand.

"Me too," you breathe. The coil in your stomach is tightening. The tension in your thighs spreads up your back, between your shoulders, and all the way down to your toes. As you wrap your legs around his slim waist, you wonder, in the back of your mind, if the shoes you still wear will leave a mark on his shirt.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, so good, fuck-!" He comes suddenly, buried deep inside you, and you feel him spurt inside of you. But it doesn't matter, you're so undone it doesn't matter, it doesn't fucking matter-!

He whines your name and presses his groin tight against your as his orgasm stutters over him. Dropping his head on your shoulder, he pants, and whispers your name.

"Michael," you protest quietly. "Plase, I'm not there, I'm-"

You rock your hips against him needily. As if it is the easiest thing in the world, he sets you down and pulls out, and immediately replaces his cock with his hand. Just as you showed him before, he buries his fingers back in your pussy and circles your clit with his thumb, and you appreciate it, you do, but it's not enough, it's not enough-

"Oh, God," you groan softly. "Like this."

You're trembling close and youre's so needy, and you grab his hand and press all fingers against your mound, showing him to press as hard and fast as he can. It hurts in the best way, and his hand is almost a blur, and he studies your face with an open mouth as your expression crinkles, tightens, your jaw slack and eyes scrunched closed.

The orgasm he gives you explodes through your body and you white out, knees giving way and balancing falling through. With his hand still firm against your cunt, he catches you and holds you steady, and you clutch against him blindly for balance. "I've got you," he grunts. "Easy."

But there's pride in his voice. He keeps his hand against you even after your orgasm has washed over you. Your flesh there twitches, hot and swollen, and his fingers gently press in different places to learn about you. Whatever information he gathers makes him smile.

After a long moment, enough strength returns to you that you can stand steadily again. "God, that was..."

"Acceptable?" he asks hopefully.

You're bending down to pull your underwear and trousers back on, and you glance up, trying not to grin. "It was good."

He smiles slightly and nods, looking away as if deep in thought. "Alright, that's good, then. Next time, should I wait for you to... to finish first?"

"Next time?" you ask with a quiet laugh. Standing upright, you do your trousers back up and he does the same, the USB still swinging from his belt.

"We have to do this again." Michael says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then, he brings the hand up covered in your wetness, and he licks his fingers clean. His eyes close in bliss. "You taste so sweet."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you smile even wider. "You don't have to do that."

Swallowing, he murmurs your name and smiles. It's the most genuine smile you've seen him wear. "Oh, I do. You know me. Always had a sweet tooth."

#michael gavey x you #michael gavey x reader #saltburn #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #mine #helaelaemond kinktober

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