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barakittens517 · 2 years ago

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Part VIII: The Memory

Summary: In which the consequences commence.

PT VII: The Truth

Words: 3,809

Warnings: mention of (brief) physical abuse

Pairing: Morpheus x gender neutral reader

Notes: getting closer to finishing this makes me so happy n sad at the same time :') fair warning- these last parts are gonna be longer (and hopefully updated sooner) cause i love y'all!!

Tag List: @ponyboys-sunsets @i-am-not-a-raccoon-anymore @memento-mora @freedomsofdream

Lucienne is waist-high in a mix of open books and papers in the palace library. She doesn’t even notice the two of you walk in, until Matthew caws from his perch on one of the higher shelves. She looks surprised to see you again, even more so to see the dream lord reach for your hand once more.

You focus your gaze on the raven, wondering briefly if he is one of Morpheus’ creations. When he tilts his head to look at you, you look away. Not taking chances on avian suicide.

“Lucienne, I- we need your help,” Morpheus says, and you can see his librarian nod in response.

“Of course, my lord. How may I be of assistance?”

Oh, boy. You do not envy trying to explain this situation to anyone. Morpheus pauses for a moment before answering.

“Ellis is… they’re one of my creations. A companion.” Lucienne raises her eyebrows. “But something is wrong. I am hoping perhaps you could find an answer.”

“What seems to be the issue, my lord?” She eyes you skeptically. You’re used to it, in a sense. The general population is not a fan of those who cannot maintain eye contact- one begins to look rather guilty that way.

You watch for a moment as Morpheus visibly struggles to find the right words, and decide to take one for the team.

“I can kill people,” you answer. Lucienne’s expression does not change, but Matthew caws softly, as if to say what the fuck?

“If I make eye contact,” you explain further, “People kill themselves. Kind of, um… religious guilt, I guess. Or regular guilt, really.”

“And you do this… on purpose?” Lucienne asks. She glances down to one of the books on the stack to her left and begins flipping through it.

You shrug, mostly because the answer lately has been yes but it’s not like you’re a stone-cold serial killer. You’re not the Corinthian.

“Um… well, I didn’t really know I could, I guess? For a while? But it’s getting worse, I think.” You let go of Morpheus’ hand and begin fidgeting with one of the rings on your finger.

“I did not make them this way,” Morpheus adds. He steps closer to Lucienne and lowers his voice, although you still hear him. “They left… unfinished.”

So now you’re a broken, incomplete creation? Christ, what next? Your warranty expired fifty years ago?

Lucienne looks puzzled, and you can tell she’d rather have this conversation without you. You’ll admit it is awkward, but you want the truth as badly as anyone else in the room.

Matthew is the first to break the silence, swooping down to the table in front of you. “You don’t look unfinished to me,” he says.

You can’t help laughing. “Thank you, I guess.”

“That certainly narrows down the list of suspects,” Lucienne comments. She’s grabbed a second book now and has started writing on one of the blank papers. She stops after a moment and looks up at you, frowning. “This is going to take some time.”

“How long?” Morpheus asks. The concern is crystal-clear.

Lucienne sighs. “That depends. In the meantime…” She nods in your direction. Morpheus turns to his raven.

“Matthew, would you take Ellis to a guest room? I will be up shortly.” He turns back around, preoccupied with Lucienne’s notes. They’ve started speaking in hushed tones, and you feel incredibly out of place standing in the background.

The raven, thankfully, takes it all in stride. “No problem, boss.” He flies to the library door and waits for you to open it. “I never thought I’d miss having hands,” he jokes, and you smile.

You follow Matthew down the hallway to a staircase off to the side. The second floor is a long hall filled with closed doors. You shake off the thought of the orphanage dormitory. Matthew stops at the room farthest down the hall.

“I’m pretty sure this is it,” he announces. “It’s been a while since we’ve had guests.”

You open the door to reveal a darkened room. The light switch to your right ignites several gas lamps that illuminate the walls, covered in landscape paintings and framed in ornate metals. A giant, four-poster bed takes up a large portion of the room. There’s a stone fireplace built into the wall across from the bed.

“This is… nice,” you decide, unsure of what reaction is appropriate here.

The curtains on the far wall are covered in a thick layer of dust, and opening them envelops you in a swirling, hazy cloud. After a brief coughing fit, you’re able to see what they had been hiding- tall glass doors that lead to a balcony overlooking an edge of the castle.

After watching the sunset in Fiddler’s Green, you were a little worried nightfall would just be dark. After all, nights were the hardest in the waking world without a roof over your head. But even the clearest sky in the country could not compare to the view from your room.

Billions of stars twinkle from above in more colors than you’d thought possible. A wide swath of the sky is an opalescent white, and the stars that peek through are foggy and blurred. Even without the sun, you can still see to the far edge of the city.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Matthew asks. He’s made the railing his personal perch, and the brightest star light brings out the iridescence of his feathers.

“Definitely not a bad view,” you agree. You sit in silence for a moment, taking in the cool night air. “How long have you been here?” you ask.

“Not long, I guess. Long enough to know it’s not a bad gig,” he answers. You nod. “You’ve been here, what, a day maybe?” he asks.

“Something like that,” you sigh, perching your elbows on the marble railing.

“Dream’s not a bad guy… I mean, for being an Endless, he’s probably one of the best,” Matthew says. “Have you met his siblings?”

You wrinkle your nose at the idea of Morpheus having a family. He doesn’t really seem like the family type. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Death is nice,” Matthew comments, “But the others… Yeah, it’s probably better you don’t know ‘em. Desire’s a whole load of trouble, and Despair isn’t far behind.”

As much as you appreciate the raven’s attempt at hospitality, you don’t really want to talk about the Endless right now. After all, you’ve just witnessed one of their lifetimes, and you can’t imagine anyone envying that.

Matthew can tell something’s off- even a regular raven could tell you that. He opts to tell you about the people he’s met from the waking world, hoping you’ll feel comfortable enough to share some of your background in return.

You keep it light and (mostly) sweet, glossing over the Marwoods and instead expressing how much you loved the children. You skip right over the orphanage to your meeting the Corinthian, and somehow manage to make light of the fact that three people died along the way.

Matthew is kind enough to fill in the gaps as far as where Rose Walker actually was, and how Fiddler’s Green got to the convention. You want to ask how Fiddler’s would know anything about you, but you don’t.

Instead, you choose to talk about Morpheus. After all, your first meeting was not a great one. Morpheus was understandably thoughtless after destroying a prized creation, and you were convinced of your imminent destruction.

Matthew was just happy to see Fiddler’s Green again. It had felt a lot like herding cats, trying to get all of the rogue dreams back home. The metaphor makes you laugh, and you fall into a pleasant, yet thoughtful silence.

Nothing had truly felt real after you met the Corinthian, not until this very moment. The thought is sobering, and you turn to the raven once more.

“Do you think they’re going to find an answer?”

Matthew sits for a moment. “I don’t know,” he replies quietly. “Lucienne’s a freakin’ genius, and Dream, well… He’s stubborn. One way or another, he’s not gonna give up.”

You cringe at the thought of the dream lord being so determined to fix you. What if it isn’t even worth it?

“What if I just… get stuck like this?” you ask. For once, you’re grateful you can’t make eye contact. It also helps that Matthew is a bird, and not a human being with facial expressions.

“There’s gotta be a solution,” Matthew replies. “And if there isn’t, I would bet my life savings on Morpheus making one. Well, if I still had a life savings. You know how it is.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Morpheus’ voice rumbles from the room. Matthew caws in surprise and immediately hops from the railing.

“Ellis and I were just talking about, uh, the waking world,” the raven says nervously.

“Matthew has been good company,” you add, and you can see Morpheus give his raven a knowing look. Matthew ruffles his feathers and looks away.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replies. “Matthew, I believe Lucienne has some raspberries saved for you in the library.”

Matthew caws. “You had me at raspberries, boss. Good luck Ellis!” he calls as he flies off the balcony.

You turn and lean against the railing, crossing your arms in front of you. “That didn’t take long.”

Morpheus smiles faintly. “Well, Lucienne is still finishing up on some profiles in the library. I had an idea that may work, but I need you for it.”

You shrug. “I guess I’m game for it. There’s not much of a choice, huh?”

“You always have a choice,” Morpheus replies, frowning.

“Okay, then yes.”

He nods and motions for you to follow him back into the guest room. It appears substantially brighter (and cleaner), and you can see the fireplace has been lit, casting weak shadows on the wall.

The dream lord takes a seat on the edge of the bed. You stand, crossing your arms once more. For some reason, he looks as anxious as you feel.

“So what’s your idea?” you ask.

“Your memories,” Morpheus answers. “You haven’t had many dreams. But you have visited past memories. I am curious how much of them are hidden, subconsciously.”

“How would I-you… well, we. How would we get to them?”

Morpheus takes a small cloth bag from his coat. “You’ve been dreaming them. I believe we may be able to find them there.”

“So what, I just sleep?” you ask. “‘Cause that’s not… I mean, I don’t really sleep. But-”

“I am the god of dreams, little one,” he interrupts. “And my sand will inspire sleep. From there, the search will begin.”

You’re more than mildly uncomfortable at the idea of wandering through your own memories, much less with Morpheus at your side. You assume he has the means to keep you safe, but you’d rather not have him bear witness to your past.

Morpheus knows this, and it’s easy to pick up on your anxieties- now that he knows what you are, and what your life has looked like, he can read you more or less like an open book.

“You won’t be alone, Ellis,” he says, “And I am not one to pass judgment on your life. It is my own fault you had to fend for yourself.”

“It wasn’t.. I mean, you didn’t have a choice,” you reply. “It’s fine.” It does not feel fine, but what else are you supposed to say?

“In any case, it’s best we do this now. For as many resources as Lucienne has at her disposal, I’m not sure what answers she’s able to find. Whoever did this remains a threat to all I’ve created.”

You nod and uncross your arms, moving to sit next to the dream lord on the edge of the bed. “So what, you just… sprinkle it?” you ask. He smiles, and you can feel your heartbeat increase- embarrassingly so.

In the next moment, you’re asleep. It’s a memory of your first night at the Marwood home- you’d recognize their dilapidated farmhouse anywhere. You’re standing in the front yard, by the row of ash trees lining the dirt road to the property.

Your heart aches upon hearing the children playing in the backyard. You would do anything to see David again, to see Eden smiling and laughing like she used to. You have to remind yourself that you’re on a mission, although Morpheus is nowhere to be found.

Regardless, you begin walking down the lane. He’s bound to catch up at some point, right? Just as you reach the main road, you hear hoofbeats pounding the dirt ahead of you. Your stomach sinks at the sight of him. Saul.

He must be three sheets to the wind already, riding at breakneck speed. What an idiot. Part of you hopes he’ll fall before he reaches you, but no dice.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yells, pulling his horse up in front of you. The poor creature is covered in sweat and foaming at the bit.

“I don’t know,” you answer, which is the truth. You’re not quite sure how the memory thing works. Can you get hurt? Can you hurt anyone else?

“Well you’re not fuckin’ leaving,” he growls, leaning over and grabbing you by the arm.

“I can walk just fine,” you spit back, but he won’t let go. You start to panic. Without Morpheus, you really don’t have much control over the situation. And as much as you hate to admit it, you’ve always been terrified of Saul.

“Oh, can you now? You think you can keep up with me?” He nudges his horse to a trot, and you trip over your feet while still trying to wrench your arm from his vice-like grip.

“Saul, please don’t do this,” you plead. “I wasn’t going anywhere, okay? I’ll come back. I’ll walk back with you, right now.”

He laughs. “No, no, this’ll be much faster. Maybe then you’ll learn not to test your limits around me.”

Just before he’s able to nudge the horse into a full gallop, both rider and mount disappear. You fall roughly to the dirt, skinning your elbows in the process. Morpheus is next to you in an instant. He looks angry.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, standing and brushing the dirt from your jeans.

“No,” he disagrees, “I should have been here.”

You flinch when he reaches for your arms, carefully inspecting the damage. Just like before, they’re healed in an instant. You’re so overwhelmed with gratitude to be rescued from such a godawful memory, you wrap your arms around the dream lord.

He pulls you even closer, pressing his lips gently to the top of your head. “I am sorry, little one,” he murmurs before pulling away. “Lucienne interrupted me. She believes our answers can be found sometime before the orphanage.”

“That was, what, in the past? How do we go back?” you ask.

Morpheus keeps an arm around you and points to the Marwood house. “We go through that door.”

Your stomach twists. “Are you sure? I mean, is that the only option?”

He nods. “Yes. You’re safe with me. I promise.” He offers you his arm. You take it, pushing the fear farther down to your stomach.

Morpheus opens the door to the Marwood’s house, but stops you before you can walk through. From over his shoulder, you can see the roof of the orphanage. You feel sick.

“I will not let anything happen to you,” he swears, “But I do not know what we will find.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t know either,” you joke. Morpheus smiles, but you can see he doesn’t quite mean it.

“Ellis,” he starts again, and then stops. “Stay close, alright?” You nod, and reach to lace your fingers through his.

Without another word, you both step through the doorway. You’re transported to the street in front of the orphanage that leads to town. To your right, you can see Ms. Jude tending the flowers that decorate the window boxes at the front of the brick mansion. Panic overtakes any rational thought.

“Let’s go,” you say quickly, and make a beeline for the rest of town.

“Ellis?” you hear her call out, but you don’t turn around, praying that she thinks you’re just a case of mistaken identity. What would you even say to her? In less than a year, she’ll find you a terrible home. And a handful of years down the road, you will be the reason she dies.

Once you’re farther down the road, you have time to gather your thoughts without the threat of a panic attack. “What are we even looking for?” you ask, although it comes out rather harsh. Morpheus frowns.

“Someone with a very unusual ability,” he answers. Boy, that narrows it down. “Do you remember much of the town?” he asks.

Your reconstructed memories lack stability, and the people walking past you look more like shitty NPCs than real humans. Some of the buildings phase in and out of existence, reappearing slightly more authentic as you focus.

You spent somewhere around two months in London before Ms. Jude found you. You wrack your brain for any memory of that first day, and the buildings adapt around you to the shreds of memory you find.

You had been dressed simply, in a white button down shirt and jeans. Both were almost beyond repair now, splattered with mud and fraying around the edges. Ms. Jude had found you by the bakery, hunched over a stale loaf of bread.

Your clothes hung loose over your frame, and she quickly offered her shawl. “What are you doing out in the cold this early, love?” she had asked, and you shrugged. You don’t remember having- much less using- your voice.

She helped you to stand and told you that she’d get you something that would “stick to your bones”. You remember her joking about skeletons in broad daylight. She had let you sit in her little carriage until you warmed up a bit before asking more questions.

“What’s your name?”

“Ellis,” Your voice creaked.

“Alright, Ellis, well… I’m glad I found you. Do you know where your family is?”

You shake your head. Ms. Jude frowns.

“What were you doing out there? Haven’t you got someone looking for you?”

You shake your head again. You can tell she’s getting frustrated. You remember being so grateful for her kindness, and yet so terrified of any human interaction.

“Have you run away?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. The last thing the orphanage needed was to be associated with harboring criminals. You shrug. She sighs. “You’re not very helpful, Ellis.”

“Does she know where you came from?” Morpheus interrupts, and you realize you’re standing in front of the bakery. Ms. Jude is sitting motionless in the carriage.

“I didn’t tell her, at the time,” you reply. Your head is starting to feel heavy, and the whole world is starting to feel off.

Morpheus walks over to speak with her. Curiously, she points east, to the shadowy buildings your memory hasn’t been able to render correctly. You pick out some of her words, something about a man named Ezra. You vaguely remember her warning to stay away from a certain part of town, from that man.

You slump to the curb before you’re able to hear anything else. That name…

Ms. Jude must be on to something, because your thoughts are beginning to slip through your consciousness like grains of sand. You can’t hang on to any memories, and Christ, your head is heavy as it falls into your hands.

It takes a moment to realize Morpheus is next to you, one arm wrapped protectively around you. “Are you alright?” he asks, but he sounds far away. “Ellis,” he repeats, and you realize you haven’t answered him.

“‘ ‘M fine,” you slur, trying to physically shake the sand out of your brain. Morpheus frowns.

“This was a bad idea,” he says. “We should go back. I’m sure Lucienne-”

“No,” you interrupt angrily. You’re finally able to conjure a memory, and you’ll be damned if the dream lord ruins it for you.

“Ezra Lilin,” you hear the Corinthian announce with a smile. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

You’re standing next to the nightmare in a darkened room. Tapestries hang on the wall illustrating various tarot cards and constellations. Your first instinct is to run, but you vaguely remember Rin had offered to help you.

“We need each other,” he had said. “Can’t make you worse than you already are, yeah?”

The man Rin is referring to is much less imposing than you’d come to expect. He’s short, with straight black hair sticking up all over like bedhead. He looks a mess, actually. He’s crouched over a table in the corner, and his face is covered in something like a mask.

“Nightmare,” Ezra greets warmly, shaking hands with Rin over the table. They begin talking, but you’re distracted by the shards of mirror hanging on the wall. Through the scratched glass triangles, you can see… yourself.

And gods, what a doozy. You’re wearing a black coat- much like Morpheus’, you now realize- but that’s not what catches your attention.

Your face. It’s little more than a skull, skin stretched taught over eye sockets. So this is what the dream lord had meant by “unfinished”.

You look horrifying, and it doesn’t end there. You glance down and realize you’re missing an arm, and your right hand is little more than bone sticking out of the fabric of your shirt. It’s a fucking miracle you made it anywhere like this.

“Do not fuck this up,” you hear the Corinthian threaten, and turn to see Ezra eyeing you.

He smiles, and you want to throw up. You would, if you had the internal organs for it.

“I have yet to disappoint,” Ezra says.

The memory cuts away, and you find yourself standing with Morpheus outside of an unsuspecting corner shop. Dark curtains block any view of the inside, and both the door and windows are covered in iron bars.

Your whole body is screaming to get the fuck out of here.

“I don’t like it here,” you manage to croak before collapsing.

Morpheus’ catches you in his arms, and you’re met with the brief deja vu of having been there before. The dream lord has caught you twice now, unable to handle the weight of your own existence.

Morpheus himself would have been over the moon to have you this close once more, were it not for such terrifically awful circumstances.

He just wants you safe, and now his promises cannot be guaranteed.

You’ve found the “someone” you’ve been looking for.

Unfortunately, Ezra Lillin has found you.

#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #Morpheus x reader #Dream x gn! reader #The corinthian #netflix sandman

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starlessea · 3 years ago

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Inkstains

A/N Inspired by a Daryl request I got from an anon reader - since we’re all wondering how Daryl keeps getting more and more tattoos in each season, during an apocalypse...

Summary: You spend the night trapped in a tattoo shop with Daryl, and he emerges the next morning with some new ink.

Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee

Daryl ran towards the door, throwing his shoulder against it to pry it open. On his second attempt, the lock finally caved, and sent him tumbling into the shop as you covered him — pistol raised, but arms trembling.

“C’mon,” he rasped, dragging you by your shirt, “get in ‘ere.”

So you followed at his heels, tripping over them as he bolted the door.

He then did a quick sweep of the place as you caught your breath, trying to squint away the faces of the dead still etched into your mind. You’d been running for so long that your legs felt foreign beneath you — quivering in place as you struggled to remain standing.

But then, the light flickered on, and you caught sight of Dixon near the switch.

“Door’s sturdy,” he concluded, nodding his head to the chain looped around the handle.

The amber glow was bright, and made your eyes water as they adjusted. But when they did, you could see the thick metal door, and how the windows had been barred beside it.

“Best we hol’ up here for the night,” the man announced, shucking off his rucksack. “Jus’ ‘til they clear.”

They, being the dead.

You nodded, tucking your own pistol away and shedding some of the layers you’d been carrying. Then, you turned on your heels to finally get a look at the newly illuminated shop — and smiled at the irony.

It was a tattoo parlour.

Design sheets plastered the walls, fluttering in the tepid breeze, and a colourful array of inks lined the shelves — just waiting to be opened. There was even a faint scent of rubbing alcohol still lingering in the air, despite all of the months gone by.

But, most of all, it felt familiar.

It was funny, really. The entire place looked like a picture — a moment stuck in time. It had probably been abandoned during the middle of the outbreak, since tattoo machines were still plugged in, and work stations set up.

You picked up a gun, getting used to the weight of it again. Back before the world went to shit, there wasn’t a day that went by without you holding one — training your hands steady and your lines straight.

You glanced towards the plug. The power was still working in the building, so maybe-

It turned on.

The unmistakable buzzing noise permeated the room, causing Daryl to whip his head around — until you could feel his eyes baring down on you, questioning you.

“It’s a tattoo gun,” you stated, holding the machine up for him to see.

The man looked at it skeptically, before shaking his head.

“Ain’t the type a’ gun we’re lookin’ for,” he grumbled — making you laugh as you flipped the switch back off.

The room felt too quiet after that, too unnatural in a place usually thrumming with life and vibrance. So, you slipped back onto one of the beds, and kicked your feet up after toeing off your boots. The rainbow of colours were tempting on their shelves, but you collected a trusty bottle of black ink instead, and began to set it up on the table.

“I was a tattoo apprentice,” you explained, prompted by Daryl’s stare. “Before all this.”

He stopped his pacing, standing in place to inspect one of the tattoo designs tacked to the wall.

“Yer pullin’ my leg,” he quipped back, without missing a beat.

But you only hummed in response, wiping your surface clean.

“No I’m not,” you answered, smiling at him briefly. “Can’t you see the tortured artist in me?”

This time, Daryl was the one to laugh — raspy and rough as he shook his head.

“Nah,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you, “but I can see the artist who’s torturin’ me.”

You threw an unopened ink bottle at him, which he dodged with little to no effort — letting it splatter on the wall behind him. You grimaced, suddenly feeling guilty for ruining some of the designs with ink stains.

Though, you didn’t dwell on it long — getting the urge to create some designs of your own.

You began to peel off your long sleeve shirt, shucking it up midway to your chest before Daryl cleared his throat, halting your action.

“What’re ya doin’?” he asked — much too rushed and uncertain.

He’d averted his eyes, choosing to stare at the opposite wall in the meantime.

You cocked your head, flinging your shirt to the floor so that you were left in your sleeveless vest, instead. “What does it look like?”

He didn’t even glance back at your words, keeping his eyes trained directly in front of him as he grumbled.

“Like yer undressin’ in front a’ me.”

You chuckled at that, shuffling back on the bed and folding your arms over your chest.

“I’m not trying to jump your bones, Dixon,” you stated, amusement heavy in your words. “You can look.”

He didn’t seem to trust you, but he looked nonetheless.

And then he understood.

You watched as his eyes trailed along your body, down your arms before reaching their way back up to your collar — and then settling on your face. There was barely a patch of skin free from ink, free from the designs that covered you, each one done by your own hand.

“Not many people will let an apprentice tattoo them,” you explained, feeling a lot more shy as the man’s eyes lingered. “No matter how good you are.”

You’d practiced on yourself most days, when the parlour wasn’t fully booked, or your boss didn’t feel like getting new ink. So, there was little choice in the matter.

You had to become your own canvas.

“Ya did all of ‘em?” Daryl questioned, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make out the details from afar.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “You can come closer,” you told him, before losing your nerve. “If you want to see.”

He took tentative steps towards you after that, accepting your invitation but not fully committing to it. But once he got closer, close enough to pinpoint each line and design in front of him, he seemed to relax.

His hand even trailed over a couple — the feeling of his calloused fingers making you shiver in your seat.

“They got anythin’ behind ‘em?” Daryl asked, a few moments after you’d forgotten how to breathe. “Any meanin’ or some shit?”

He looked up at you, catching your eyes which were unsteady and pricked with glassiness as you tried not to tremble under his touch.

“A few do.”

And so, the man watched you tattoo yourself following that — tracing a simple design with the needle — whilst he scribbled something of his own down onto a piece of paper.

It didn’t take long, maybe only an hour or so, but the two of you sat in comfortable silence the whole time — save for the regular humming of the gun.

And soon, you were done, wrapping your fresh tattoo and packing away the equipment — out of habit more than anything. You could recall your training days as an apprentice, and how your boss would lay it on thick if even a single bottle of dried-up ink was misplaced. So, you did your best to sort everything back how it was meant to be, and not how you found it.

Except, Daryl cleared his throat once again.

He’d slipped off his jacket, and splayed it over one of the beds before looking back at you — expectantly.

“What are you doing?” you asked, even though you already had a suspicion.

The man walked over to you, halting your clean-up as he placed that piece of paper onto your table — face up so that you could see his own tattoo sketch.

“What’d ya think?”

And so, a couple more hours passed as you gave Daryl Dixon some new ink, trying not to dwell on how warm he felt beneath your palms — because that last thing you wanted was for your hands to shake. You’d never thought you’d know the feeling of his breath on your skin, or his heartbeat pulsing at his wrist.

But now you did, and it was utterly euphoric-

Leaving you wondering whether you’d gotten high of the unbottled alcohol or the man lying vulnerable at your fingertips.

“Alright, you’re all done,” you breathed, stretching out your neck — and with it, your nerves.

You took a step back, appraising your work as he did the same. He held up his forearm towards the flickering overhead light, and you swore you saw the ghost of a smile tug at his lips.

“You know the drill, Dixon,” you announced, catching his attention. “Keep it wrapped,” you winked, pointing towards the cling film roll.

He scowled at your lewd tone, and the way you laughed at him after — but this time he didn’t bite back.

So, you went on. “That means no walker guts over my work,” you warned him, wagging a finger in his direction, “and remembering to take a shower every once in a while.”

He grumbled at that, starting to thread the clear film over his fresh ink whilst ignoring your words. “Yeah, whatever.”

You smiled, feeling giddier than you’d done hovering over him a few moments before. But you couldn’t help but crave for more.

To dare to ask him the question weighing heavy on your tongue.

“So has it got anything behind it?” you asked, trying to fill the silence that lingered now the machines had been switched off.

He glanced at you, so you had to go on.

“What did you say-” you muttered, trying to recall his exact words, “meaning or some shit?”

You let your eyes rest back on his tattoo, hoping you could prompt the man for an answer.

And, to your surprise, he gave you one.

“S’a cherokee rose,” he stated, before his voice got real quiet. “For everybody we lost.”

His smile looked different now, as he said those words. No longer did it look playful, or timid, or shy. It only looked sad.

And you sighed.

“You always do insist on carrying the heaviest burden,” you told the man, as you squeezed his shoulder.

Then, as the morning light started to trickle in through the boarded up windows, so you swapped out your tattoo gun for your other gun — your pistol — as the two of you prepared to leave the parlour, freshly decorated with ink stains.

End.

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

Also, if you enjoy my writing, you might want to buy me a coffee or commission me - tips are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

A/N I had the hardest writing block of my life today. Me and Jess were literally trying to push through and do writing exercises but it just wasn’t happening - so I’m sorry I didn’t get SotG out today as promised!

I hope you all still like this, though. Please let me know what you think!

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weirdsht · 3 years ago

Text

A-Dreaming - Aether x Reader

a/n: its been a hot minute since i wrote something properly and what better way than to start with genshin. aside from that updates won't still be consistent, i won't be getting a laptop for a long time but i rlly want to write something so i'm coping with this shtty dying laptop lol

Warnings: aether x reader, fem reader, established relationship, "love" as a pet name, event spoilers(?), its just fluffy goodness overall tho, very self-indulgent

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

If there's something missing in the warnings let me know so I can add it

Any form of interaction toward the post is appreciated <333

Navigation

Masterlist

“Wahhh Aether look she’s here!” Paimon tugged the traveler’s clothes quite harshly as she waved towards the person who just entered the tavern.

“Paimon don’t be too harsh at this point you might rip off his clothes”

The girl who was chuckling softly greeted back the people inside the tavern before going towards the traveler and guide duo. “I promised I would drop by didnt I? There’s no way I would miss tasting drinks made by you”

She kissed Aether’s cheeks and patted Paimon’s head after ordering her drink. The traveler, who’s currently a temporary bartender, started making the drink while the pixie didn’t even bother helping and instead went to where his travel companion was, sitting to go play with her.

Paimon and the adventurer catch up with the other patrons in the tavern while they go watch Aether make the drinks. Everywhere inside the tavern was noisy, something the adventurer isn’t quite used to as she’s mostly outside camping with her two companions or inside the serenitea pot. Nonetheless she welcomed the cheery ambiance and lively people the establishment offered her.

“Paimon’s head hurts from all this alcohol and noise” the pixie was doing her signature slow head shake with a hand on her head while looking at the people demanding more drinks, primarily alcohol. “But you have to admit a change of pace like this is nice from time to time”

Before Paimon can answer, a certain blonde traveler beat her to it. “True, we can’t go around fighting all the time, we must also learn how to relax” Aether set down two love poems and the drink concoction his emergency food has been demanding since the first day. “I have a 30 minute break so I can stay with you for a bit” he announced while pecking the adventurer’s lips.

“Yes yes, that reminds Paimon, You came at just the right time! If you’ve come any later than this then it would be rush hour and we won’t be able to go talk to you!” Aether looked at Paimon in disbelief as if offended. “You have no right saying you won’t be able to go talk to her when you haven’t even helped a bit. Love, did you know that all she does is ‘taste test’ all the drinks I make and snag the failed orders” by now the braided man was making exaggerated movements to express his opposition towards the floating child who tried hehe’d her way out of the accusations.

They maximized Aether’s 30 minute break that way. Just catching up, laughing, and enjoying themselves, forgetting about their responsibilities and reputations, just forgetting about the world and going back to being the adventurer couple they once were before their deeds were spread throughout Teyvat.

“Nooooo don’t leave Paimon here, or at least take Paimon with you please” The child hugged the laughing girl who’s trying to pay their tab. “Paimon let go you don't even help out so at least accompany me here. Plus she has business in Inazuma she can’t take you with her” the braided man stated while he was preparing to go behind the counter once more.

Paimon gave Aether a skeptical look before looking at the adventurer who finally got out of her hold and is finally paying their bill. The girl in question merely smiled at pixie while kissing her forehead.

“Take care of Paimon hahaha. Make sure she doesn’t cry and miss me too much.” She kissed Aether like it was compensation for her request. Aether already knowing what he has to deal with later can only let out a sigh of exasperation before returning the kiss.

With that the two of them are out of their bubble and back to the real world. Moments like this may be short as both of them are extremely busy but it’s moments like this the two cherish and treasure the most.

#there's a lack of traveler fics #and i always complain abt it #so i took upon myself to write one #le rants #genshin impact #genshin #genshin aether #aether #traveler #aether x you #aether x reader #aether x female reader

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jordanstrophe · 3 years ago

Note

i just need to know: will there be a follow up to the thing you just posted? i NEED to see them getting into the walls hehe >:) and their suspicions roommate finding them there :o [no pressure tho haha only if u want to, have a nice day]

Hello to the both of you!~ And everyone who also requested a continuation. I really should have cut this into a 2/3, but I don’t want cliffhangers -[Previous]-

CW: Villain whumper, possessive protective whumper, grabbed, manhandled, taken captive

Every time whumper came home, shivers traveled up and down whumpee's spine. They laid awake for hours at night trying to convince themselves what they found wasn't true. Whumper couldn't be... them, could they? The villain wandering the streets stirring fear.

Whumper quickly noticed whumpee's mood change. Instead of keeping to themselves and acting all annoyed; now, it was their turn to demand answers.

"Are you okay? You've barely been talking."

"Cm'on, talk to me. Has something happened?"

"Whumpee if something's happened, I can fix it for you, okay?

They asked every single day. And every single time, the answer was the same.

"It's fine."

Whumpee knew they didn't believe them. They would always respond with a skeptical brow, then walk away shaking their head.

The next day, whumpee woke up to breakfast on the table and a note folded over a napkin. 'Work is holding me overnight, won't be back until tomorrow. But do me a favor, stay inside today. You could use a break.'

It was sweet, but also- rather strange. They took a knife by the plate and marched up to the wall; they knew whumper was hiding something, and it was time they had their answers.

"I'm going to get in so much trouble with the landlord..." Whumpee huffed, before prying the knife behind the loose board. It took a few hard tugs until the wood started creaking and the knife began to bend. But eventually-

*Snap!*

A chunk of the wall broke off in a shard and flipped in the air a few times before landing at their feet. Whumpee exhaled and dropped the knife, the hole was just big enough they could fit their wrist though and pull out whatever was stashed inside.

They found exactly what they thought they saw, a handful of papers and letters, along with a burner phone filled with texts. Their hands trembled as they flipped through the first conversation-...

A conversation about them.

Clear, direct orders that whumpee was not to be harmed or targeted in any mission. Not them, not their place, not anything.

Of course the response from whoever this was went on to mock whumper for 'fancying your free rent buddy, you lazy freeloader'.

Whumpee sharply gasped and dropped the phone when the door unlocked and pushed open.

"Hey! Sorry, I forgot my-" Whumper's face immediately froze when they found whumpee pale as a ghost standing by a hole in their wall with the phone at their feet.

“I- I didn’t read anything!” Whumpee panicked, slowly backing away and kicking the knife under the couch.

“Oh whumpee...” Whumper sighed, lowering their head to see the conversation pulled up. “You shouldn’t have read that.” They slammed the door shut behind them and smashed the phone under their heel as they walked towards them.

“Wait wait wait- please, just tell me none of this is true! Please tell me it’s not you!” Whumpee pleaded, there was already a tear on their cheek when their back hit the wall.

“Listen to me-” Whumper snapped, putting an arm over their head and the other grabbing their face as they whimpered quiet. “I did... so well to keep you out of this, and now you go off and dig through the walls!?” Whumper shouted, feeling whumpee flinch around their hand. “You have put yourself in so much danger that you can’t even comprehend! How am I supposed to protect you now!?” They hollered, as whumpee turned their head away.

“Why? Why are you protecting me? I’m just- I’m just your roommate!” They cried, forcing their face out from whumper’s grasp. Whumper switched and grabbed their wrist instead to keep them still.

“Because- ... Because you were-... You were kind, okay?! You're the only one who-” Whumper cut off their stammering with a scoff. “Well now that you’ve put us both in hot water, things are going to be a lot harder. So please, go to your room and stay there until I figure out what to do with you.” Whumper shooed, letting whumpee go as they pushed them away and bolted for their room.

They slammed the door behind them and locked it, moving furniture around from against the door. Whumper sighed as they heard quiet tears from the other side after they finished. It would do them no good in the end, they made a copy of their room key ages ago.

Whumper exhaled after feeling a shred of guilt. They made themselves promise to be more gentle next time, but it stood that whumpee couldn't leave the house. None of this went as planned and now-

Now they had a prisoner.

It’s dangerous to go alone, here, take this~ ♡ @grizzlie70 @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog @whump-it-like-its-hot @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @whatwhumpcomments @hamiltonwhumpdump @as-a-matter-of-whump @whumpasaurus101 @lonesome–hunter @digitalart-dwa @mabledonut @myst-in-the-mirror @melancholy-in-the-morning @anonintrovert @sunflower1000 @shywhumpauthor @dont-touch-my-soup @batfacedliar-yetagain

#look whumper just wants a friend #whump #whumpee #whumper #controlling whumper #possessive whumper #protective whumper #creepy whumper #caring whumper #villain whumper #whump writting #whump drabble #captivity whump

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twodimecastle · 3 years ago

Text

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid #my writing #spencer reid fluff

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butwhyduh · 3 years ago

Text

Hair Bows

Roy Harper x batsis!reader

Summary: a date turned into a play date turned into work. Basically Lian taking over Titans tower. And canon has no home here.

“I’m just about to head out the door,” you said over the phone, still doing your hair. Roy wasn’t the most punctual guy and this was your way of coping. If you were also always late, it didn’t bother you as much.

“Wait,” Roy said and you heard a muffled sound like him running his hand down his face. “I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“My babysitter punked out at the last minute so I can’t leave Lian. I’m sorry,” he said.

“Oh, uhhh, bring her,” you suggested, hopefully sounding casual. You’d met her a few times but nothing big and your date was just a walk in the park. Nothing a kid couldn’t do. And you were hoping to be a little more seriously dating.

“Seriously?... on a date?” He asked.

“Not if you don’t want to. But I just thought we were going to the park and we can let her run around. You know what? Never mind, if you need to stay home it’s cool. I don’t know anything about kids-“

“Hey, it’s a good idea,” he said stopping your ramble. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Most people don’t want someone else’s kid on their date.”

“Most people shouldn’t date people with kids if they can’t be around them,” you answered, finishing up. “Now am I meeting you both at the park or..”

“Now I know why I’m dating you,” Roy said and you could hear the smile through the phone. “I’ll pick you up. Lian’s not a fan of riding in other people’s car so Uber is out.”

“Can’t blame her. See you soon,” you answered.

——————————

You had changed into a slightly less sexy and more family friendly top and sensible shoes by the time Roy picked you up. Can’t chase a kid in heels.

Roy looked nice in a button down and jeans with no holes in them. Not a trucker hat in sight. And of course, Lian was a doll in a spring themed dress and leather bottomed sandals. The first thing she showed you was an impressively high kick.

“And it’s okay because dad makes me wear shorts under it. For taking out punks,” she said knowingly. You nodded.

“For punks. Good idea.”

“In case they get fresh,” Roy said to you as she ran to a slide.

“Fresh? She’s 5. Maybe Lian should teach me that move. I know this guy that’s always trying to get fresh,” you said as he wrapped an arm around your waist from behind and rested his head on your shoulder.

“Hmmm, should I kick his ass,” Roy said playfully.

“I’d pay to see you kick your own ass,” you said with a laugh.

“Ouch, and I thought you liked me,” he said, sounding dramatically wounded. You laughed again.

“The entertainment value tho. Hard to beat.”

“So many ‘hard to beat’ jokes I would make right now,” he whispered in your ear and you pulled out of his arms. You were rolling your eyes but the grin ruined the disapproving air you were trying to have.

“Not that kinda date,” you reminded him and as if on cue, Lian ran over to Roy and grabbed his hand. She started dragging him to a food truck.

“Can we get a funnel cake? Or ice cream? Or a hotdog?” She asked excitedly.

“Hotdog and then ice cream on top of a funnel cake,” he said in a mock serious tone as he bent down beside her. She grinned widely. “We aren’t animals!” She squealed and dragged him to food truck.

You grinned as you watched them. Roy had fucked up a ton but this was not one of those times. Nope, he was a great dad. He looked back at you confused as why you hadn’t joined them and you jogged over to them.

“Sorry, just lost in thought,” you said as they made your food. Roy had a hand casually around your waist as Lian tried to swing on his other arm.

“Bout what?” He asked.

“How good a dad you are,” you admitted. He gave you a shy crooked smile before kissing your forehead.

“You bats are always in your head too damn much. But thanks,” Roy ended softly. He handed Lian a giant hotdog that she promptly started eating before giving you your food and he his. “Let’s find a spot to sit before you drop that giant hotdog.”

As Lian licked sticky sweet ice cream coated funnel cake pieces off of her arm, Roy’s phone went off. He smiled apologetically before getting up to answer it. A few minutes later he came back to the table looking even more apologetic.

“Titans business. I have to go but...” he started, running a hand through his red hair. “I don’t have a babysitter.”

“I could watch her,” you suggested and Lian looked up at him kinda sad. “I could watch her at the tower. You’d be right there but we’d stay out of the way.”

“You sure? That isn’t too much?” He said unsure, looking between you both.

“Yeah, I’ve watched kids before. And I know the tower really well. We’ll watch movies and fall asleep. Do you want a sleep over?”

“Yeah! Go on dad, I’m fine,” she said waving a hand at him. You both laughed. “Dads,” Lian said rolling her eyes playfully. Yep, she’s Roy’s alright. “Do you have popcorn?”

“Yep!”

“Candy?”

“Yep! And I know where my brother Tim keeps the good imported stuff,” you said and she grinned.

“Not too much. Or staying up too late. Or anything scary or too grown up,” Roy said on the way to the tower. “And if anything happens. Anything. Get to the panic room.”

“I know the procedures,” you said putting a hand on his shoulder. “And I can keep her safe. Don’t worry. We’ll have fun.”

“And I can kick punks!” Lian said proudly.

“And she’ll kick punks! I’m hoping she hits Gar first. Did you know he can turn into any animal? He just chooses to be a punk,” You said and she giggled.

“Wow!”

“Alright. No kicking punks unless it’s really important because-“

“My body is a weapon. I know, dad,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Roy repeated the same sort of things up in the living quarters of the tower before giving you both a kiss. “Stay safe,” he said before going downstairs.

Some of the younger Titan recruits didn’t leave on the mission and were hanging out or training. You walked Lian over to the couch and went to find a movie she might like. You dusted off the dvds they had. Probably hadn’t added any new ones in many years with the extensive funding of Batman giving them every streaming service ever.

“How about this movie,” you asked, holding up a sun bleached dvd case. “Space jam?”

Lian looked at it carefully before nodding. You put it in the player and came back. “What about popcorn? Dad says movies are crap without it.”

“Oh,” you said. “Right. I’ll make some.”

“Popcorn?” Came a voice around the corner before the next you saw was a wind of red. “Hey kiddo,” Bart aka impulse said to Lian before shaking her hand. “Let’s pick a movie. There are some pretty good ones I haven’t seen. I’ve seen 12 movies.”

“Only 12,” she frowned skeptically and you took the opportunity to go in the kitchen and make popcorn.

“Hey, did you let Lian have speedster piggy back rides,” Tim aka Robin said ducking his head in the kitchen.

“No,” you said quickly running in the living area quickly. “Okay, enough of that. I don’t think her dad would be cool with this,” you said pulling her off of him. She pouted a little.

“Why does it smell like fire,” Cassie asked from the hall and you hurried back in the kitchen to see a flaming bag turning in the microwave. Before you could do it say anything, Bart opened the microwave and tossed the bag into the sink where the sponge lit on fire. Lian shrieked and you jumped up turn on the water to put them both out.

“That popcorn smells ewwie,” Lian noted. You sighed and pinched your brow. This is fine.

“I’ll make more and you go pick out a movie. And nothing else,” you emphasized.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bart said with a salute. Tim winced.

“Sorry, he’s a lot.”

“One minor kitchen fire is not too bad. Have you heard from the mission?” You asked as you cooked the popcorn.

“Not yet. But no news is usually good news,” he reminded you and you nodded. That’s what Roy always said. You grabbed the bag and went in the living room to see an entire hot pink tackle box filled with every kind of hair tie and bows and baubles. Bart was sitting on the floor and Lian was currently tying a bright yellow bow in his huge mass of red hair.

“She wanted to do his hair so I got my stuff,” Cassie said.

“She’s a natural. She doesn’t rip out half as much hair as Cassie,” Bart said with a grin. You sat on the couch near them and started the movie as the popcorn passed around.

Halfway through the movie, Tim’s phone goes off. He looks at it and frowns. “Alright guys, we got to suit up.” They grumble but get up. Bart does a quick shake that reminds you of a dog and all the bows vibrated out of his hair. Lian laughed and tried to catch them as they fell out.

“Lian, give me just a minute to talk to Tim,” you told her and she nodded before putting a red barrette in Cassie’s hair. You walked in the kitchen with Tim.

“Is everything okay? Dick? Roy?” You asked quietly.

“I’m not sure. We’re just being called in. I’ll try and let you know more,” he said. You nodded and hugged your baby brother.

“Be safe out there.”

“Always.”

Lian was sitting on the couch as the cartoon played and she had moved on to putting bows on the fuzzy blanket on the couch. She yawned as she put bows in your hair and you looked at the time. It was probably close to bed time for her.

“Lian, do you want to lay down while watching your movie?”

She yawned again and nodded. “Yeah, dad will be home late again, hu? Work?” She was pretty used to his hero duty.

“Yeah, but I’m here.”

“Yeah, you’re here,” she said before laying on you. You froze for a second before feeling your heart warmed. She rubbed her popcorn greasy face into your shirt before getting comfortable. After a short while she was asleep and you pulled out your phone to take her photo.

You wanted to send Roy the photo but didn’t dare disturb him. You kept worrying about him and Dick and now even Tim as they fought. Why had they needed the back up? Were they hurt? In too deep? You had a hard time doing anything but worry.

Lian turned in her sleep and all but pinned you to the couch with her little fists gripping your shirt. You pulled the blanket over her. You tried to stay awake but once it hit 2 am and you were trapped on a couch with no lights on, you fell asleep.

Around 4 am, the team wandered in the tower slowly. They hushed one another as they saw you and Lian on the couch. Roy came in and stopped to look. He took out his phone and took a bunch of pictures of you both with a smile before he hobbled to the medical bay to be cleaned and patched up.

“Hey,” he whispered while gently tapping your shoulder a little while later. You woke up blinking in the light. “I’m going to carry her to the car. Are you coming?”

“Oh, yeah,” you whispered back. Roy carefully pulled the little girl off of you and she clung to his shirt in sleep. He grabbed his bag of gear as you got up with a stretch. You waved bye to everyone before leaving.

Halfway down the road, Roy turned to you. “She really seemed comfortable on you.”

“Yeah, she climbed up herself. I was a little surprised. I guess I didn’t mess up tonight,” you said with a little self deprecating laugh.

“Nah, you did great. I had to hear all about it from the kid heroes on the way back. The hair bows was genius,” he said. The car quietly pulled in his driveway.

“That was Cassie. And when Lian saw all of Bart’s hair her eyes went wide like a cat at a ball of yarn,” you laughed.

“Yeah, she’s a fan of long red hair. Ask me how I know,” he said shaking his hair and you laughed. Lian moved in her sleep.

“So she ripped out your hair so Bart’s could survive,” you said quietly.

“Something like that. Can you get the door,” he said before scooping Lian out of her car seat. You held the door as he carried her to her room and laid her in her toddler bed that currently had a Superboy blanket. She had just about any hero you could image in some product or another.

Roy met you in the kitchen. “Thanks, you know. For watching her today. I appreciate that,” he said. You tossed him a water bottle.

“Yeah, she’s awesome. We had fun,” you said, leaning on the counter with your elbows. Roy came up behind you and rubbed your shoulders.

“Not everyone is cool with dating a dad so thanks,” he said. You turned your head to look at him.

“Well, they are missing out. Got my own DILF,” you teased.

“Oh god, I’m a DILF,” Roy said with a hint of horror in his voice. “Speaking of ILF... I know someone I’d like to ILF,” he said kissing your neck and pressing himself against your back. His hands moved under your shirt and up to your chest. “Wanna take it to my room?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

#roy harper x reader #arsenal x reader #dc fanfic #batfam #batsis #batsis!reader #arsenal x batsis!reader #roy harper x batsis!reader #Lian harper #titans tower

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navegandoaciegas · 4 years ago

Text

Crybaby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader (College AU)

Warnings: smut, ass fingering, orgasm denial, humiliation, lots of talks about panties.

Summary: You catch Bucky trying to steal your panties on laundry day.

A/N: this is partly @buckycuddlebuddy ‘s fault tbh. Enjoy some desperate, horny Bucky. Minors DNI.

The timer on the dryer unit you’d occupied went off, signaling that your weekly load of laundry was dry and ready. Bucky cast a nervous glance around the eerily empty room, fingers twitching in the front pocket of his hoodie.

He knew it was wrong, but his laundry was done too (just a coincidence, really, not like he’d wake up at 3 am on a Monday because he knew you did your washing around that time), and you weren’t there yet. You usually retrieved your load in the morning anyways.

Just a peek, he reasoned. Out of curiosity. You wouldn’t even realize they were missing, and if you did you’d chalk it up to the washing machine eating your clothes.

You’d show up to class on Tuesday and sit next to him while he’d be wearing your pretty lace panties and you’d be none the wiser.

Fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

He dug in your laundry, sifting through mascara stained washcloths and an endless amount of oversized t-shirts, until he found what he’d been looking for.

Small, so tiny in fact that he wondered how your lips could fit in them. He groaned -the idea of your pussy hanging out of the material made his cock twitch, and brought the panties to his face, rubbing his nose all over the lace. He’d fantasized of burying his face between your legs all semester long, and this seemed close enough, the closest he could get to you anyways.

They seemed stretchy, and he hoped he could manage to stuff himself inside them.

“Didn’t peg you for a panty sniffer, Barnes.”

The world stilled around him, the ring in his ears so loud that he wondered if you could hear it too.

He was so engrossed in his creeping, that he hadn’t heard the door open and click shut, nor your steps as you walked behind him, or the slight groan that the washing machine behind him emitted when you settled on it, swinging your legs.

Slowly, he turned around, your lace panties still tightly clutched to his chest.

You almost chuckled at the sight of his bulging eyes and gaping mouth. Almost.

“That- it’s not- not how it looks like- I-”

“What, you were gonna fold my laundry for me? How considerate,” you sneered, but the look on your face was far from disgust.

Derision, sure, but not disgust. The mischievous interest in your eyes sent chills down his spine, not necessarily the good kind.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, anticipating whatever consequence his actions would have.

“You do this often?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, naked legs still swinging over the washing machine.

Bucky couldn’t find the words, and honestly the gall, to speak, so he just shook his head vehemently, shuffling on his feet.

“Hm, you like sniffing ‘em?”

He remained unmoving, too humiliated to do anything.

“Oh, I got it,” you beamed, pointing a finger at him and squinting your eyes, “You like touching yourself with pretty panties, hm? Like using them to fuck your dick, and cum all over ‘em?”

He wanted to answer, tell you to fuck off and sprint away to hide in his dorm for the rest of his life, but honestly he deserved this and so much worse. He almost considered dropping out of college entirely, but that glint in your eyes kept him anchored to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on his white sneakers, “I-, I promise, I never done it before, I don’t know why-, look I won’t do it again, I swear,” he pleaded, tears pooling in his crystal eyes and threatening to stream down his face.

You cooed, honest to God coeed, a mocking pout on your lips.

You should have left, and reported him, but those pretty tears of his, the tremble in his voice, the stuttered pleas, only served to spur you on, a familiar warmth building up in your core.

“I bet if word got out of this, no one would want to hang around the resident creep anymore. Good luck getting girls then. Although, well, I don’t think you get too many under normal circumstances, do you?” you snorted, “That would be embarrassing, hm? Wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He found himself shaking his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat to avoid giving you any more reason to mock him.

“It’s your lucky day then, because I have no intention to tell anyone,” you announced, stepping down to lean against the machine, arms crossed over your stomach.

“You- you don’t?” he wondered.

The notion should have elated him, but he felt himself growing more uneasy and confused with the smirk on your face.

“Won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Cross my heart,” you laughed, making a show of placing a hand on your chest.

He eyed you suspiciously. “Why?”

“Where’s the fun in that, Barnes? I wouldn’t enjoy bullying you if I’m not the only one doing it,” you chirped, “That doesn’t mean that my forgiveness should come for free, tho.”

His breath hitched, and you followed his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down his throat.

You could feel the control in your grasp, panties getting wetter with each one of his tears.

“I’ll do anything,” he swore, and you almost wished he’d fall on his knees and beg.

“Anything you say, huh?” you paused, “Strip,” you commanded, leaning back against the washing machine.

Bucky furrowed his brows and looked up in confusion, then disbelief, finally embarrassment. “Wh- what? But, but what if someone sees, I-”

“Then you better hurry.”

“But I-”

“You fuckin’ heard me the first time.”

He was startled into action, hands hastily pulling at his hoodie and jeans until he was standing in nothing but socks and underwear.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself again.”

He gulped visibly, and hesitated before hooking his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs.

He blushed harder, ducking his head.

His cock sprung out of his boxers, and the mouthwatering sight of it had you reconsidering Bucky Barnes and all your life choices during this semester.

He was glistening in pre cum, painfully hard and veiny, and definitely thick enough that fitting it inside your cunt would be hard work on both parts. You imagined taking him in your mouth, how you would definitely choke around his girth, and your jaw would be sore for days.

Not today, though. Bad boys did not get that kind of privilege.

You bit your lips, and Bucky fought the impulse to squirm under your intense gaze.

“Something wrong?” he rasped out, praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole in case you found him too small, too crooked, too hairy.

You snorted, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Yeah, babe, the fact that I haven’t seen you naked before. You been hiding all this,” you eyed his crotch suggestively, “from me all this time?”

“T- thanks,” he stuttered, offering you a small smile, eyes trained on the ground. He tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered when you called him an endearing term, reminding himself that this was all a game to you, a game that he was more than willing to play if it ended up with his cock buried deep inside you.

You sighed then, pondering your thoughts. He was not your usual type, but he was cute in a nerdy way, shy and quiet, and he was packing more than any other man you’d had before.

Plus, this was way too entertaining for you to pass up.

“Wear ‘em.”

Bucky’s head snapped up at the command, but this time he did not hesitate to follow your instructions, a bit too eager as he slid the panties up his thighs.

The shutter of your phone’s camera brought him out of his thoughts, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw you take pictures of him. He trusted you wouldn’t spread them around, but the thrill of danger had him leak more pre cum, wetting a patch on the lace.

“So that’s your deal? You like wearing panties? Didn’t even try to act like you didn’t want to,” you snickered, “What a whore.”

The situation couldn’t get more humiliating, and he couldn’t get more desperate for you.

“Be a good boy, Bucky. Fold the laundry for me, since that’s clearly what you meant to do,” you laughed scornfully, nodding to the basket at your feet.

He walked to you slowly, bending over to pick it up, and yelped when you slapped his ass harshly, the sound bouncing off the walls and shooting straight to his aching cock.

“Cute. Now go, you got something to do and I don’t have all night.”

He sighed, and got to work, unloading each item from the dryer, and folding it neatly.

You eyed the lines of his back, the round globes of his ass, the string of your thong dipping between his cheeks. You almost lost yourself imagining how pretty he would look all scratched and marked before you furrowed your brows, observing the way he folded on of your nicer shirts that you wore on interviews and internships.

“Can’t even fold laundry, look at you,” you tsked, shaking your head, “Try that again, I don’t want to spend more than necessary ironing it.”

He obeyed, without any protest, smoothing the creases he’d created, and continuing with your load, until the dryer was empty and you were satisfied.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praised, beckoning him over.

He got closer, close enough that you could feel the heat emanating from his body. He looked so pretty like that, all teary and obedient.

You wanted to make him yours and ruin him for everybody else.

“You’re a fuckin’ pervert, you know that? A creep and a pervert.”

You saw the way his cock twitched behind your lace at the words, and almost doubled over in laughter.

The night couldn’t get any better.

“Fuck, you really are a pervert. This what you get off to? You imagine me calling you names, degrading you like the bitch you are? You want to be humiliated, don’t you?”

A desperate, pathetic whine escaped his throat, and he felt his knees growing weak with need. He was naked in a public space where everyone could see him, being belittled and humiliated by the girl he’d been pining over, and he was hard as a rock, getting off every word that spilled out of your mouth.

“Well,” you purred, fisting the hair at the back of his neck and tugging harshly, “I think we can arrange that.”

“Yes, yes, please, I want it,” he whimpered, chest heaving, “I want you, I’m your slut, I-, you can do whatever you want to me.”

You almost moaned then, intoxicated by his burning desire.

“Good boy,” you hummed, releasing his hair to stroke his cheekbone, smiling at the way he leaned his head against your palm, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“Remember you can tell me to stop or slow down whenever you want, and I will. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you added more serious, observing his face for any trace of anything but enthusiasm.

When you found none, and he nodded feverishly, you let your hand fall from his cheek to his shoulder, tracing the outlines of his lean muscle.

“Can- can you kiss me, please?” he asked, and he begged so prettily that you could do nothing but humor him, crashing your lips against his.

It was messy, rough. He was sloppy, and from the way he moved against you, you guessed he didn’t have too much experience.

Better, you reasoned. You’d teach him all he needed to know to please you, and you only.

You bit on his bottom lip, and Bucky yelped in surprise, parting his lips.

He tasted like mint on your tongue, and you sighed in content, letting your hands travel down his sides, barely grazing his skin, scratching the hair on his belly.

He shuddered under your touch, goosebumps erupting in your wake.

When you reached his lower stomach, you felt him tense, his breathing getting harder, his tongue more insistent.

He was drooling and crying, you realized, as he snapped his hips against your leg, humping you like a dog.

You broke away from the kiss, catching your breath.

“Look at you, you gettin’ real worked up and I barely even touched you. What are you, a fuckin’ virgin?” you chuckled, playing with the little bow on the front of your panties.

You’d expected him to laugh, or deny, but he just stood there awkwardly, avoiding your gaze,

“I’m not,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“Then why are you acting like one?” you prodded, but didn’t wait for him to answer, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss.

His hesitant hands groped your breasts, finally gaining the confidence to do more than linger awkwardly on your hips. He twirled your stiff nipples, rubbing his thumbs over them, movements getting more frenzied the closer he got to his release.

He crouched awkwardly to be at your chest level while still pressing his hips onto you, and tugged your loose tank top down, moaning at the sight of your tits.

“Go on baby, suck on my tits.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement to assault your nipples, latching his mouth onto one of them, and suckling. You wondered if he’d ever even touched a pair of boobs before, but his ministrations were working either way, making your walls clamp down on nothing.

You finally grasped him in your hand, his cock heavy and throbbing in your palm as you stroked him lazily, spurred on by his little whimpers.

His whole body quivered when you ran your thumb over his slit, and you marvelled at his sensitivity.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?” you moaned in his ear, “I bet you do, I bet you could cum already just from this. Just a handjob, like the pathetic little boy you are, hm?”

He released your tits with a wet pop, and rose to full height again, resting his forehead on yours.

“Yes, yes, please,” he sobbed, “please, princess, more.”

You complied, doubling your efforts. He inhaled sharply when you added your other hand and began twisting both your wrists in opposite directions.

“You want your princess to suck your dick, baby? Want me to get on my knees and take you in my mouth?”

He nodded against you, grinding his hard cock against your hand, desperate to chase his release.

“Or maybe you want your princess’ pretty pussy? You want to fill me with your fat cock and stuff me full of your filthy cum, don’t you?”

He began blabbering, breathing harder, sloppily snapping his hips. He had a look of pure bliss on his face, his eyes shut tightly, mouth hung open and a layer of sweat coating his forehead.

You could feel him grow and throb in your hand, and just before he was about to reach his high, you stopped your hands.

His eyes shot open and he opened and closed his mouth to protest, but you gave him no time, fisting his hair and slamming him against the washer, bending him over the cold surface.

“What, you thought I’d catch you stealing my panties and I’d let that go?” you tutted, bending over him, pressing your front to his back, whispering in his ear “Bad boys need to be punished, don’t you agree?”

A choking sound escaped his parted lips, and you giggled against his skin, licking a strip behind his neck.

You let your hands wander down the expanse of his back, settling on the waistband of your panties. You indulged yourself again, slapping his ass because you liked how it jiggled and how Bucky whined.

“You have a nice ass, you know,” you mused, slouching back to get a good vision of it, “You ever had anyone stick anything up there?”

“W-what?” he sputtered, crooning his head to look at you, “N-no, never.”

“Cute.”

He squirmed in embarrassment when you spread his cheeks, groaning when he felt your spit drip down on him. You massaged a finger around his rim, your hand coated in your spit and his pre cum.

“Relax, I’ll make you feel really good, promise.”

You gradually felt his muscles relax under your touch as you soothingly ran a hand down his back and kept whispering calming, sweet nothings in his ear.

Then, you dipped a finger past the rim.

“See, not that bad, huh?” you smiled, working your finger inside him, caressing his walls.

You nipped the skin of his back, peppering his muscles with fluttering kisses, grazing your teeth over his column.

You dipped another in, and Bucky hissed, wiggling his legs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you shushed him, “You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

He preened under your praise, and you began scissoring your fingers inside his ass, working him open and looking for the spot you knew would make him beg for more.

The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your pussy desperate to be stuffed full of his cock.

You loved how pliant Bucky was being, obedient and submissive in your grasp. You noticed the tears that hadn’t stopped streaming down his face, and huffed a laugh.

“A pervert, a slut, and a fuckin’ crybaby, aren’t you?” you mumbled, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, holding onto the washing machine for dear life, tongue lolling out of his mouth, drool dripping down his chin, making it known that you’d found what you’d been looking for.

“Yes, fuck, please princess, gimme more,” he begged, overwhelmed with a pleasure like he’d never experienced before.

He felt like a fire had been lit in his lower belly, and it was spreading to every limb, encompassing him whole.

You grasped his cock in one of your hands while your fingers kept pummeling into his ass, feeling the rim clench around you and his cock pulsate.

You thought you could cum from his beautiful sounds alone, and you kept going until you were sure he was on the verge of a mind shattering orgasm.

Then, you stopped again, and this time Bucky sobbed, blabbering and wailing, begging you.

“Please princess, I’ll do anything, just please let me cum, please, please,” he continued, shamelessly bucking his hips against nothing.

You released his cock and pulled your fingers out of his ass, cleaning the fluids against his panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ pathetic, begging like that,” you mocked him, retrieving your phone from the pocket of your shorts.

You snapped a couple of photos of him bent over the washing machine, pent up and debauched. His balls hung from the lace of your panties, and you made sure to zero on his tear stained face.

“So pretty, my pretty crybaby,” you cooed, helping him stand up again.

He fell on his knees, clutching the hem of your t-shirt.

“Please, you can’t leave me like this, I-, please,” he blabbered.

You committed the image to memory, knowing you’d see it again soon.

You could see it in his eyes how hooked he was to you.

“Baby, bad boys don’t get to cum, do they? You can’t go around stealing people’s laundry,” you tutted, lightly slapping his cheek, “You deserve some punishment, don’t you agree?”

He hesitantly nodded, slumping down on his shins. You grasped his chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze.

“You got to bed now, no touching, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll know if you disobeyed, and trust me, you don’t want to know what’s gonna happen if you did.”

You smiled, and took a few steps back to retrieve your basket, leaving him to catch his breath on the floor.

“See you tomorrow at 4 pm, you know where my dorm is,” you chirped despite your own neglected arousal, sauntering to the door, “Get dressed before someone comes in, you wouldn’t want to see how much of a pervert you are, right?”

He shook his head, agreeing with you despite the sobs that silently shook through his body.

“Good boy,” you purred, hand twisting the knob. You paused, and threw him a look over yourself, “Oh, and thank you for the laundry.”

I hope you liked this! Please leave some feedback if you can! ❤️

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you

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retrievablememories · 4 years ago

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stuck with you | yoongi

title: stuck with you pairing: yoongi x reader, taehyung and jimin as side characters genre: fluff request: “Can you do a idol!Min Yoongi of BTS request of his crush being best friends with Jimin and Taehyung and him and his crush consistently fluster the other but they never realize until one day he does and finally make as move despite everyone telling them for weeks that they like each other?�� word count: 3.3k warnings: some cursing, mentions of the pandemic a/n: i’ve been actively avoiding writing anything concerning the pandemic/lockdown cuz let’s be real, we’re all here to have fun, not think about real-life shit...but i decided to try it here

i wasn’t sure how to write their living arrangements tho since most of them seem to have their own places? so i just used the hannam the hill house for reference 🤪

“How have things been for you guys lately?”

Taehyung and Jimin exchange skeptical looks with each other, which you don’t catch because you’re too busy picking over your food.

“We’ve all been stuck in the same damn place for weeks now, so you tell me.” Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head.

You visiting their house right before the stay-at-home mandate was issued ended up with the three of you—plus Yoongi, to your luck—being cooped up in the same house for almost two weeks now. It wasn’t wholly a bad thing, since you got to be with your two best friends, but living with three men was pretty much as messy as you’d expected it to be. “Wow. Never thought we’d run out of things to talk about.”

Jimin tries to humor you. “Things have been fine, you know...same as always. Except for Yoongi-hyung acting like a lovesick weirdo. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you…?” Jimin feigns an innocent look.

You look up from your plate. “A lovesick weirdo for who?”

“We’ve been through this like 20 times already, Y/N,” Jimin sighs.

“Yes, and every time I tell you you must have the wrong person because that makes no sense whatsoever.”

“He’s lovesick over you,” Taehyung reiterates, like you didn’t catch the gist the first time around.

“I don’t think Yoongi likes me.” You shake your head and make a face at the notion of it, trying to disguise your irritation at them constantly trying to provoke your emotions.

“Why not? There’s a lot to like about you, don’t downgrade yourself.” Jimin insists.

“He doesn’t even act like he does. If anything, he gets all odd around me.”

“That’s just how he is,” Taehyung says, leaning back in his chair. “You’d think you’d start to catch onto this after being here for so long, but…”

“No, she’s too busy being too embarrassed and intimidated to even get within 4 meters of him.” Jimin and Taehyung both giggle at that, and you shake your head.

“You guys are like little schoolkids. How many more big tales are you going to think up before our quarantine lifts? You could probably write a book by the end.”

Taehyung shrugs, putting his arms behind his head. “I might do that, as long as you let me make you and hyung the star-crossed lovers who are too dumb to tell each other how they feel.” He stretches his leg under the table to nudge your shin with his toes, knowing how you hate when he puts his bare feet on you, and he cackles when you protest loudly.

“Will you stop trying to get my hopes up for nothing—?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Yoongi steps out onto the terrace with the three of you a few minutes later. He shields his eyes against the sun’s sudden brightness after he slides open the glass door, holding his other arm up.

“Look who’s appeared!” Jimin says excitedly, his eyes glittering with enthusiasm.

“You’re loud,” Yoongi grumbles, though he’s mostly speaking to Taehyung and Jimin. “I can hear you laughing from downstairs.” Your body tenses up and melts all at the same time, and suddenly you feel like you don’t know how to do anything right—like hold your chopsticks correctly. They shoot out of your hand when you try to use them again and hit the patio floor. You look at them forlornly.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, a smile fluttering across his lips at your clumsy actions.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine.” You can only glance back at him, embarrassed that you’ve made yourself look like a clown. Jimin laughs like he’s just witnessed the funniest thing on Earth. You shake your head and push away from the table, wanting—no, needing—a quick exit. “I’ll just find some more of those…”

Jimin shakes himself free of his sudden bout of laughter and jumps at the opportunity. “Wait, I’ll get them for you.” He bolts up from the chair before you can even think about it and goes back into the house, already planning to take his sweet time on his mission to get you new chopsticks. Taehyung picks up the hint almost instantly.

Yoongi turns back to the doorway after Jimin disappears through it, his movements a few beats too late—as if he’s just now realizing the other man left. “What was that about—”

“Oh shit!” Taehyung’s exclamation cuts into Yoongi’s question. In a sweeping motion, Taehyung “accidentally” elbows your water off the table, sending the bottle splashing out onto the patio in sad little streams. You jerk away from the splash, but the water droplets have already gotten you.

“What the hell?!”

Taehyung shrugs like it was inevitable and gives a sheepish smile. There’s an undeniable scheme lingering in his eyes, though. “Looks like I’ll have to get you another one.” He stands up to get your aforementioned water, though you begin to form the idea that you’re not getting any water at all.

You sigh and rub your fingers across your forehead. The heat of the sun has turned from pleasant to uncomfortable, and you don’t even have your water to take the edge off. Great.

Yoongi turns back to you, his eyebrows creased. “That was weird.”

“They’re just trying to…” Force us together? You’re too embarrassed to say anything like that, and your words trail off in a stammer. Why did they ever think this would be a good idea? Yoongi raises his eyebrows in curiosity at your bitten-off answer. “An-anyway, that doesn’t matter. So...what are you doing out here?”

Yoongi shrugs, smirking slightly. “Well, I do live here.”

You snort to cover the way your stomach cuts a flip at his smirk, and you reach for your food in a nervous gesture before you remember your chopsticks are still gone. “You sorta seem like a vampire, though. I’m surprised you came out to get some sun.”

Yoongi mulls over that thought. “Hmm…a vampire, huh?” He runs a hand through his pitch-black hair, and even though the gesture is just an afterthought, it makes your heart skip a beat. You almost want to roll your eyes at your reaction to that simple movement. “Don’t tell me you were one of those obsessive Twilight fans over a decade ago.”

“And if I was?”

“Would you enjoy being bitten by a vampire?” Yoongi regrets it as soon as he says it, and you ducking your head into your hands doesn’t help the flaming embarrassment. “Fuck, that was stupid—sorry.” Your shoulders are shaking with laughter, and even though it’d be cute in another context, he feels like he’s about to combust. So he decides to make a run for it. Maybe a cowardly move on his part, but it seems like the best one right now.

“Hyung, you can’t be serious—” Jimin calls out to Yoongi as the older man brushes past once he gets back indoors, but the other man tries his best to ignore Jimin as a blush crawls up his neck. “Go back and tell her. It was the perfect moment!”

“There’s gonna be a lot more of that mess until we can leave,” Taehyung says, peering through the glass at your now confused expression and shaking his head. “God, one of them needs to say something before I lose my mind.”

Like Taehyung predicted, there’s a lot more of “that mess” over the next week. You and Yoongi continue to tip-toe around each other, unsure of how to appropriately handle each other and never unable to shake the awkwardness that colors every interaction.

The most notable incident of all, however, occurs when Yoongi does his laundry one day and somehow finds a pair of your underwear mixed in with his clothes after taking them out of the dryer. How the hell did they even get there, and how did he not notice them before?

Bound to his usual fierce overthinking, he stands there for a few long moments, wondering what he should do. Obviously, the only answer would be to return them to you. But then what if you think that’s weird, him somehow having your underwear? Or what if you assume he’s some pervert who’d taken your panties on purpose?

And to his great luck, that’s precisely when you walk into the laundry room. You give him a timid smile and greeting, which melts away into pure embarrassment when you see him standing there as if he’d just been framed for murder—and your deep red panties sitting in his laundry pile.

Yoongi’s gaze darts between the laundry and your eyes, his jaw working aimlessly as he tries to come up with something that makes sense.

He decides on “I didn’t know they were there,” though this feels just as inadequate as it sounds.

“M-maybe I threw them in the wrong bin,” you rush out, and in the same breath you cross the room to practically snatch them out of the pile of his clothes. You know you couldn’t have done it, though, which leads your mind back to those two sneaky men who’ve been trying to exercise their terrible matchmaking skills as of late.

“A-ah, yeah—maybe,” Yoongi agrees half-heartedly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You both pause for what feels like an eternity, for a reason you can’t decipher, and you think you might burst from the sheer discomfort of it all. “Well—th-thanks. One less thing to wash, I guess.” You try to laugh, but the sound comes out high and forced. Similarly, Yoongi’s answering smile is tight around the corners.

The next few days after that, you are both unable to maintain any kind of eye contact. Taehyung and Jimin are endlessly amused by the way you and the older man dance around each other like two ghosts struggling to inhabit the same space.

You make up for it slightly by turning all of Jimin’s white shirts into a splotchy pink once you find out that this was indeed his terrible and silly idea.

You’ve been sleeping in Jimin’s and Taehyung’s beds since you’ve been barricaded in their home with them, which none of you really think twice about. You’ve been friends with them for years and don’t see either of them other than platonically, so it’s not awkward for you or them. Although it was originally intended for you to mostly stay in Jimin’s bed, you end up alternating between the two, climbing into whoever’s bed you feel like that particular night. Neither of them mind the switch-up, and Taehyung likes using you as his personal pillow, so it all works out.

If there was anyone who minded at all, it was Yoongi. It wasn’t a burning jealousy, because he knew he had no right to feel like that about you—not when he couldn’t even admit to you that he liked you. But it didn’t make him want to jump for joy to know you were in either of the younger men’s beds, even just as friends.

He spent many nights imagining you were beside him instead, warming the empty spaces of his bed, whispering to him and telling him about your day. It didn’t matter if he already knew everything you did that day because you’d all been living in the same space for weeks. He still wanted to know.

But until either of you made a move, he didn’t know when that would happen. If ever.

He didn’t even know if you’d be interested, or if you saw him the way he saw you. You were never as close to him as you’d been with the other two men, and although that could be explained by you being best friends with them for years, he honestly chalked it up to you not liking him as much. Taehyung and Jimin had tried to tell him the exact opposite several times before, but he wasn’t really convinced. Not with the way you seemed to lock up around him—like if you said or did the wrong thing, he’d hate you forever.

If only you knew he could never feel that way about you.

You decide to sneak your way to the kitchen for a late-night snack one night, your socked feet scuffing quietly on the floor as you make your way to the kitchen. However, your plan is derailed when you run into Yoongi in the hallway, who has apparently just taken a shower. He’s fully clothed—thank God, because you’re not sure how you would’ve survived it otherwise—but the towel on his wet hair speaks to his recent shower. Your immediate response is to jump in surprise, feeling like you’ve been caught red-handed; although there’s no law stopping you from getting something to eat in the middle of the night.

“Oh—Yoongi.”

“You’re still up?” he asks, pulling the towel away from his face so he can see you better.

“Uh, yeah...I was just getting something to eat, I guess.”

“No crime in that. You’re tip-toeing around like you’re nervous about it, though.”

“I didn’t want to wake anyone up.” You shrug your shoulders, trying to appear more nonchalant than you really feel. “But I see you’re already up…” Your words trail off behind you as you walk into the kitchen. Yoongi watches your retreating back before making the split-second decision to follow you. He’s not really sure why, previously intending to go back to his own room.

“Were you getting something to eat too?” you ask, turning back to glance at him when you hear his footsteps behind you. You’re admittedly happy at the idea of spending a little more time alone with Yoongi, though you’re still nervous as hell.

It’s probably not the best idea to say I just came because I wanted to be next to you, so he nods to your question. "Uh, sure, I guess. What were you gonna get?”

“I don’t really know, just whatever’s in here…” You open the fridge and stare into it absentmindedly, your eyes raking over the food but not really seeing it—not with Yoongi’s presence hovering behind you.

Eventually you settle on some leftover rice and kimchi—which there’s always plenty of—not wanting to expend too much energy on cooking anything new.

You and Yoongi sit at the table together, using the light of your phone’s flashlight and the under-cabinet lights to illuminate the room instead of the overhead. Maybe it’s a little strange, but you like the ambiance of it more than having the harsh overhead light on.

The room is quiet for a while as you both eat, which you don’t initially mind. But you can’t ignore how Yoongi keeps stealing glances at you, like you aren’t going to notice, like he isn’t sitting right in front of you where you can see. It makes you antsy, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“Is something up?” you finally ask, keeping your eyes on your half-empty bowls, too nervous to look straight at him.

He hums like he’s thinking intently about it. Then he decides to rip the band-aid off and says, “You’re always tense around me.”

“Oh.”

He chuckles at your short response. “Why?”

You feel like you’ve been backed into a corner, and you hesitate. “Well, you’re always weird around me. Why is that?”

“Touché.” Another tense pause where he thinks of what to say, and then, “Jimin and Taehyung swear you like me.”

You try not to react so obviously, but your spoon clatters against the side of the bowl. If he’s acting weird because of the idea of you liking him, how can it be possible that he returns the feelings? Maybe he doesn’t know how to let you down easily. You suddenly feel ridiculous, like you’ve been wasting your emotions on nothing. “...I see.”

“I thought they were...trying to play some game. But, since you’re here now...is it true?”

Maybe if you close your eyes hard enough, you can poof yourself out of existence. If you felt trapped before, you really are now. You blurt out the first thing you can think of, trying to save yourself.

“Before you think I’m stupid for liking you, you should know they’ve been saying the same thing to me about you. So. Yeah.”

Yoongi looks at you full-on. “They told you I like you?” A nervous grin fixes itself on his lips, which makes you second-guess yourself. At this point, your head and heart are tangled in a knot. Why does your love life have to be this difficult? “So that’s it, then.”

“What is?”

“We like each other.” That makes your heart rate pick up. “...and didn’t even figure it out until just now, despite everyone else’s ‘help’.”

You take a shaky breath. “You like me.”

Yoongi nods, glancing between his hands on the table and your face. “I should’ve said it sooner.”

Despite yourself, you feel the corners of your mouth twitch into a slight smile—one that’s colored with relief and a tinge of lingering nervousness. “Later is better than never, I guess.” You find yourself laughing from the way all your stress slowly unwinds itself from your body, and Yoongi joins you, his eyes sparkling in the dark.

“So. This means we’re dating now, right?”

“I hope this isn’t considered our first date.” You snort, looking around the kitchen.

Yoongi shakes his head, placing his cheek in his hand with a sleepy smile. “I promise I’ll take you somewhere nice...after the pandemic is over.”

“We might be waiting a while, then.” Finished with your food, you go to quickly wash the dishes in the sink, and Yoongi slides in next to you to do the same. Another silence falls over the two of you, but for the first time, it’s not uncomfortable or pulled taut with words unsaid.

When you finish, Yoongi leans against the counter, his eyes openly tracing over you, wearing just a big T-shirt and shorts. It’s a simple outfit, but it warms his heart.

“Come sleep with me,” he says suddenly. You crack an awkward smile at that, and he’s blushing before the last syllable even leaves his lips, because he understands how that sounds. “I mean, actually sleep. It’s late.”

You pretend to hesitate on it. “I don’t know, Taehyung might miss me…”

“Taehyung and Jimin have had you all to themselves the past few weeks. It’s my turn now.”

And with that, you let him take your hand and guide you back to his room, maneuvering carefully through the dark house. His bed is new to you, but it’s instantly comfortable—like home. The smell of him surrounds you, as does his arms when he pulls you closer. You smile against the fabric of his shirt as you tuck your face into his chest, his chin on top of your head.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, his fingers curling around your shoulder. His voice is soft and low, already halfway to sleep.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

#yoongi fluff #yoongi fic #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #bts fic #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts imagines #suga imagines #suga fic #suga scenarios #suga fluff #ambw kpop #ambw #ambw fic #ambw fluff #ambw scenarios #ambw imagines

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lenaariewrld · 3 years ago

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6. do you like them

The door to Yachi’s apartment flew open before you even got to knock on it, your raised hand colliding with the blonde girl’s forehead as she hurried to greet you. Yachi rubbed the spot softly and ushered you inside. Your hand dropped and you quietly apologized, lightly kissing the top of her hair as you kicked off your shoes.

“Is Kiyoko here?” You asked, setting the shoes you had previously worn to the side. Yachi nodded, lightly taking your arm.

“She’s in the bathroom,” She informed you, leading you to the large room. A vanity took up a huge portion of one wall, a wide counter beneath it inlaid with one modest sink and topped with hundreds of different facial products.

Kiyoko was already in her clothes, her hair neatly pushed back as she fixed her makeup. She looked at you through the mirror, a small smile gracing her lips. She set her mascara wand down and turned to you, engulfing you in a long, firm hug. “I missed you,” She said, squeezing your middle lightly.

“I missed you too, babe,” You smiled, reciprocating the gesture. You both pulled away, mimicking air kisses on each cheek like always. “Could you do my makeup for me? You’re so good at it,” You stuck out your bottom lip for a small pout, silently pleading Kiyoko.

The woman agreed with a shrug of her shoulders, turning to Yachi to ask the blonde if she also wanted her makeup done by her. Yachi declined, admitting she could do her own looks. Kiyoko nodded, patting her head and moving her attention fully onto you and making you look as good as you wanted.

It took, admittedly, longer than the three of you had planned to get ready for, but you all looked bomb as hell. So worth it. "Tanaka says he's on his way," Kiyoko says, pulling her hair back as you and Yachi applied the finishing touches to your looks. You simply hum in acknowledgement, pulling out your phone and wiggling it. "Photoshoot while we wait?" You ask, earning smiles from the other girls.

By the time the whole group had arrived at the brunch, you all had taken multiple pictures of each other and made sure to get enough of the outfits to tweet them out. Tanaka parked his car nearby the cafe you had supplied the address for, letting everyone pile out. You immediately found Shoyo and strung your arm with his, walking in pace with the group.

Once you all were seated (and you had all taken even more pictures), you all finally settled into conversation. "So, how has it been living with roommates who are also content creators?" Sugawara asked you, resting his elbows on the table.

"It's a little new, but not much different than when you guys would stay over, or when I lived with you. I'm still not sure what kind of videos and stuff everyone makes, and I haven't spent much time alone with anyone in particular, so it's still kind of awkward to be one-on-one with any of the guys," You rambled a bit, fiddling with your hair nervously. Yachi lightly swatted your hand so you wouldn't ruin the style you had worked so hard on.

"Are you saying you miss us?" Nishinoya asked, leaning over the edge of the table to try and ruffle your hair. You obliged and leaned forward, laughing softly as Sugawara pulled him back into his seat.

"Of course... They don't even do movie nights or anything, they're so boring together," You pouted, looking around everyone. Hinata patted your back comfortingly.

"Good, that means you can't replace us," He declared.

"I wouldn't dream of it," You admitted, smiling. The both of you squinted at each other, suddenly deciding to do a staring contest until, once again, Sugawara reined you guys in. He shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Anyway. Kiyoko, how was your trip?" You asked, turning the topic onto your newly arrived friend. She smiled sweetly, simply informing the whole table of the runways she had participated in, and the designers she had worn.

You awed at how calmly she spoke about it. Fashion shows, runways, all that big world stuff was so common for her, but it awed almost everyone else in the group. Except for Yuu, probably, but you couldn't blame him.

“Hey, Hinata," You turned to the orange-haired male beside you, falling into your own small conversation as everyone else did. You noticed Tanaka and Kiyoko chatting absently, a knowing smile on your lips. You honestly didn't understand why they weren't already dating, considering how much they liked to talk to each other. Before you could forget what you wanted to ask your friend, you looked away from the two. "Have you been talking to Kageyama?" You asked.

"Yeah," Shoyo smiled brightly, twisting his cup in his hand absently. "We don't talk often, he's so dry..." He trails off to pull a face, like he was in agony at the thought of the dark-haired male's texting habits. "But he's not bad to talk to, and we like reminiscing about different stuff from high school," The boy informs you.

"That sounds like him..." You smiled fondly, bringing your straw to your lips to sip your tea. Hinata stares at you for a moment.

"Do you like any of them?" He asks, making you choke on the liquid in your throat. Your cheeks burn as you hit your hand against your chest, coughing up your lung and probably multiple other organs in an attempt to calm yourself. He simply laughs at your reaction, waving away the concern of your other friends. "Well? Is that a yes?" He pressed again.

"No!" You defended, your whole face practically a tomato now. Shoyo only hums, not believing you at all. Damn him for knowing you so well, he shouldn't be your best friend, the little shit.

"Okay, well, I'll make sure to send a... care package, just in case," He says, flashing another bright smile, though this one has sort of mischievous undertones.

"Tanaka and Yuu already gave me pepper spray and a self defense kit," You said, shrugging. "And handcuffs!" Tanaka chimed in upon hearing his name. You nod and look pointedly at Shoyo, as if to say 'see? i'm covered!'

"I meant for if you pursue something with any of them, numbskull," Hinata said, looking away from you to take along drink from his cup. You stick your tongue out at him playfully, shaking your head and instead engaging Tanaka with your attention. The rest of the brunch is mostly uneventful, the conversation easily picking up whenever it was stopped by arriving food or drinks. After you've all had your share and split the bill accordingly (excluding Kiyoko), the group shuffles out of the building.

“Let's go shopping!" Yachi suggests with a clap of her hands, looking at the skeptical faces of the others. "It will be fun, and we can walk off the food we ate!" She added, you took her arm, happily agreeing to her plan along with Kiyoko. After a few more minutes of convincing, the guys agreed to join you three, and the whole group set off for the shopping district nearby.

previous | masterlist | next

funfacts::

kuroo and y/n both take turns being ‘simps’ for each other,, mostly it’s kuroo tho

kenma almost freaked out when kuroo considered cancelling the sushi, bc he has an addiction and is finally able to enable it

hinata monitors y/n’s posts to see which Pretty Boy comments the most and goes Protective Brother Mode if they say anything out of pocket

y/n cannot read maps so she had to ask someone nearby to tell her the address

taglist: @odxrilove @pogpixelz @toshiswifey @thechaosoflonging @anime-meme-sanctuary @chaseyui @lucyrocks86 @mirikusashes @bolinhodadestruicao

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #hq smau #haikyū!!#haikyuu smau #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi tadashi #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #kenma x reader #kenma kozume #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou

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aalissy · 4 years ago

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Secrets

And we have now finished a week of Marichat May woot woot!! Plus, I’ve almost finished all my finals too <3. Lemme know if you like this chapter tho be warned it DOES have spoilers for Gang of Secrets so plzzz watch that episode first :)

AO3

Chat paced atop Marinette’s balcony, running a hand through his blonde hair, messing it up even further. His mind and thoughts were centered solely around the conversation he had earlier tonight with Ladybug. Eventually, he tightened his jaw, determination filling him as he was about to knock on her trapdoor.

Unfortunately for him, though, Marinette swung it up before he could, hitting him directly in the jaw. Her mouth immediately dropped as she raced to him, cradling his face between her warm hands. “Oh my god, kitty, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that you were up here! How bad does it hurt?”

“I’m fine! I’m fine,” Chat choked out, brushing off her worries with a wave of his gloved hand. His jaw throbbed fiercely but it was nothing compared to some of the injuries he received during akuma attacks.

“If you’re sure,” Marinette muttered, a frown creasing her brow. She narrowed her gaze at him before she tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “But, what were you doing out here? Have you been here long?”

He glanced away from her, rubbing the back of his neck as he blushed a light pink. Chuckling nervously, he said, “No, I just got here.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. Instead of replying back to him, she nodded her head, gesturing for him to continue explaining. He took a deep breath, gathering his courage before talking again, “I have something really important to tell you.”

Marinette blinked at his words, her expression a mixture of shock and confusion. She worried on her lower lip as she peered up at him. “Go on.”

“Well,” Chat started with another nervous chuckle. “Ladybug and I had a talk tonight and she mentioned that she told a civilian who she was.”

A knowing look entered her eyes and before he could analyze what that meant, she gasped with shock, placing a hand over her chest. “Did she really? That sounds super dangerous, is everything okay? A-and are you okay? I know you’ve wanted to reveal your identity to her for a while.”

He shook his head, a brush of disappointment welling up inside of him before he pushed it away. There was no time to be too upset about it. She had made her choice and it was over now. Besides, he still needed to make his request to Marinette. With a quiet sigh, Chat murmured, “Yeah, I’m just purrfect... a little disappointed, maybe but I understand why she did it.”

Marinette leaned on the brick wall of her balcony, nodding her head rather solemnly as she crossed her arms. “Well, that’s good. I’m glad you’re not here for a much-deserved rant against her.”

“No, no,” he laughed lightly, shaking his head. “I’m not here to rant. I actually came because I had a favor to ask you.”

Another frown furrowed her brow and she uncrossed her arms, leaving them to hang by her side. “Alright, what do you need?”

Chat sucked in another deep breath before shutting his eyes tightly. Speaking quickly, he blurted out his request. “I want you to be the one to know my secret identity!”

She practically choked at that, shouting, “What?!”

Immediately, he opened his eyes to look at her. Marinette had pushed off of the wall, pulling on her pigtails as she paced back and forth on the small balcony. He watched her angrily mutter to herself for a few moments before he hesitantly called her name, “Marinette?”

Her head whipped to his and she walked closer to him. “Why me?” she whispered quietly, her eyes a mix of desperation and sadness.

Chat cleared his throat, shifting from side to side as he considered her words. “Well, I’m practically always here and you’re one of the most trustworthy people I know. If I was going to reveal my identity to anyone but Ladybug it would be you, Marinette. And, besides, you were pretty pawerful as Multimouse.”

He had thought that his pun would lighten the mood some, but if anything it made it even worse. Marinette looked even more sullen as she gazed down at the floor sadly. She rubbed her eyes before sighing quietly. “I can’t know your secret identity, Chat. I-I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He blinked at her a few times. “Why not? You’re the purrfect choice. You’ve never been akumatized and you’re one of my best friends.”

Marinette peeked back up at him with a soft smile. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t tell me. What happens if I do get akumatized? Or what if Hawkmoth figures out you come here and realize I know who you are? It’s just too dangerous, kitty. I’m really sorry.”

“Oh,” Chat practically whispered. He looked down as he thought about her words. She was right, of course. Like always. With a quiet sigh, he nodded his head and extended his baton. “You’re right, I’m sorry for bothering you, then.”

Her eyes immediately widened before she reached out to hold onto his wrist tightly. “No, Chaton! You didn’t bother me at all! I’m flattered that you even thought of me to know! I-I just... there’s a really big reason why I can’t know.”

All of a sudden, everything clicked. Why she had panicked. Why she looked so worried now. Marinette was right, there was a big reason she couldn’t know his identity. She was the civilian Ladybug told. Of course, it was her. Marinette was probably the most trustworthy citizen in Paris.

Chat’s bad mood immediately disappeared as a small smirk twitched on his lips. “I get it, purrincess. You really can’t know.”

She froze at that, looking up at him as she got paler. Clearing her throat, she tapped her index fingers together. “W-what do you mean?”

“It’s alright, Mari, I’ll keep your little secret now that the cat’s out of the bag.” He reached forward, tapping her on the nose gently with a quick wink.

Marinette turned even paler as she choked. “W-what?! H-how did you figure it out?!”

“Your reaction kinda gave it away.” Chat shrugged with a rather goofy smile on his face.

“How are you taking this so well?!” she threw her arms in the air almost exasperatedly, “You know you’re not supposed to know I’m Ladybug.”

Now it was his turn to gasp in shock. His jaw fell open as his heart raced quickly in his chest. What in the world was she talking about?! Choking on his tongue, Chat swallowed the large lump in his throat. In a hoarse whisper, he asked, “W-what?”

Marinette immediately slapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening. “Oh my god, you hadn’t figured it out. Did you?”

He slowly shook his head and she let out a quiet wail, tugging her pigtails once again. As she buried her head in her hands, Chat hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it once. “I-It’s okay... I-I won’t say anything. Cat’s honor.”

She sniffled, looking up at him with a quivering lip. “B-but... if you didn’t figure out my identity. What secret were you talking about?”

Chat gave her a crooked grin, trying to ignore the tingles that were racing up his arm. He was touching Ladybug’s bare shoulder. Ladybug and Marinette were the same person. It was taking all he had not to completely freak out and wrap her in a tight bear hug. Chuckling awkwardly, he glanced away from her big, bright, blue eyes. “I um, actually thought that you were the civilian Ladybug told.”

Marinette groaned, burying her head back in her hands. She then muttered to herself, “That makes so much sense. I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey!” he said rather offendedly. Lifting her chin up, he connected their gazes once again. “You are not an idiot! If anyone’s the idiot, it’s me! I just came to Ladybug’s house to reveal my secret identity!”

She giggled quietly, biting her lip to contain a small smile. Chat’s heart fluttered at seeing her happier and he decided then and there to make certain that Marinette was always smiling. Squeezing her shoulder again, he murmured, “So, is it alright if I reveal my secret identity now?”

“No!” she clenched her eyes shut tight, shaking her head rapidly. “It’s too dangerous that you already know who I am! I can’t know who you are!”

“But, purrincess,” he whined, feeling his shoulders sag with disappointment. This was supposed to be the moment he swept her off her feet. Sure, he was just her dorky classmate but maybe knowing they were always friends would help him.

“No buts, Chaton!” Marinette poked his chest pointedly. “There’s been enough identity reveals lately! We need to be more careful! Especially with Shadowmoth.”

Chat’s lips quirked almost bitterly before he nodded his head. “Alright, I get it purrincess.” Taking his baton, he extended it quickly and gave her one last wink. “I’m looking furward to the next akuma attack, m’lady.”

Not waiting for an answer, he took off into the night. It was much too tempting to be around her and not reveal his identity. Besides, he had already decided to spend as much time as possible with her as Adrien at school tomorrow. Even though he wasn’t tired, he couldn’t wait to go to bed and see her again.

#marichatmay2021 #marichatmay #marichat #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marichat fic #one-sided identity reveal #marichat reveal #gang of secrets spoilers #post gang of secrets #ml #mlb #identity reveal

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dontbipanicjonsa · 3 years ago

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Did I just create another Tumblr account so I could write one (1) meta about GoT years after the show has ended? Yes. Yes, I did.

I just saw episode 7x04 and first of all, I would like to say a most heartfelt-

Yikes.

Yea no the Field of Fire scene is....many things, but a scene of triumph it is not. I'm going to say a lot of things now, all of which have already been said before I'm sure but oh well-

It's interesting that the show decided to have a scene humanising the Lannister army (especially Dickon Tarly) right before the invasion comes (I'm calling it an invasion coz that's what it is). Note that Dickon has appeared before, in season 6 and there he had next to no lines.

The first thing that strikes me about the Dothraki army approaching is that, yes, it is an invasion.

It comes out of seemingly nowhere. The Lannister army is caught completely unprepared, smack in the middle of a (morbidly) playful scene. The Dothraki look like invaders (because they are). They look terrifying and foreign (no one @ me about this- tell me if you won't shit your pants and wish they'd never crossed that damn sea if you had a Dothraki horde running at you full tilt). The Lannister army is shown literally quivering, and yet they stand their ground and fight bravely. We are meant to admire their grit.

Next, the scene very very clearly depicts the horrors of being burnt alive (for good reason- people watching the show seem to forget). This is shown repeatedly. The wagons are burning and the horses are running, trying to escape the fire. Soldiers are crawling into the water. Soldiers ripping off their helmets, their newly acquired burns visible.

I could go on, but the point is that the scene is filmed like a massacre, not a battle. The Lannister army never stood a chance. They put up the best fight they could, but they are essentially being butchered with their pants down. Is that meant to make me side with Dany? Yell in victory? Be like "Fuck yea, burn those Lannister fuckers, khaleesi". Uh

No.

Through it all, Danaerys and for most of the part, the Dothraki have the higher ground (coz dragons and horses). It creates an image, a story that is both familiar and unfamiliar. Dany setting her dragons and her Dothraki on people isn't new, but this is the first time we have sympathy for the people being burnt. The image created makes me think of...off the top of head? Uhhh bullies, strong crushing the weak, corporation (:/), murdered puppies, etc.

What did GMMR say? The villian is the hero of the other side? Hmm....

Danaerys is seemingly untouchable in this scene, but rather than making us feel awe, or making us feel powerful, triumphant, victorious whatever (through her)....we only feel dread, and a mounting horror.

Basically what I'm trying to find the right words to say is-

It's very hard to watch that scene and say "Yeah, you go girl".

Very hard. I can't. My reaction was more like-

"wtf have you unleashed on this continent? As if they didn't have enough shit to deal with already. You're burning the food?????? Gtfo this continent and take your lizards with you, invader".

Can you tell I really fucking hate conquering invaders? I do. The Targs and I do not get on.

On a seperate note, it's interesting to me that this is the same episode that has discourse about chosen kings/queens, why people follow Dany, and why Jon should bend the knee to her.

Let's examine-

Dany says the North chose Jon as their king because they believed he would do what's best for them, and since he himself believes that the North cannot beat the WW without Dany, he should let go of his pride (be a true king) and bend the knee, thus winning Dany's help in the fight against the WW. (Yes it wasn't exactly in those words but that's the crux of it, is it not?)

Now, the first thought that springs to mind is, what about her? This very argument can be turned against her. If she wants to be Queen of all seven kingdoms, and she believes Jon enough to promise to help him, should she not let go of her pride (be a true queen) and fight for the kingdom she wants to rule anyway? She is obviously somewhat shook by the cave paintings. The only concession I can give her here is that she doesn't have much reason to trust Jon here. It's a flimsy argument though- she does have reason to want the well-being of "her" kingdom. That's what monarchs do. That's what she expects Jon to do.

Still, I'm not entirely sure. The problem is that she's right. If his first priority is to protect his people, then giving up his crown should be a price that he's willing to pay. We can see Jon thinking about her words at the end of that scene, and I think that's because they struck a chord with him too.

I know that Jon does give up his crown to Dany sometime this season (I know the entire fucking story, I'm just watching it now for the first time for the first hand experience). So, can we say that Jon giving up his crown is his act of being a true king (someone who protects his people)? Yes, if his reason for bending the knee is to protect his people. Reasons matter. Context matters. Motivations matter. But we're not talking about that right now.

Let's look at the flip side. Would Dany give up her throne? This very same episode had Missandie talk poetic about Dany. It establishes that both Jon and Dany are monarchs chosen by their people. Jon is clearly skeptical of this. His questioning Missandie, and all his squinting (is the sun in his eyes or what????) all point to him not being sold on the Danaerys Experience.

I'm not sure how to articulate this...but Dany is a conquerer. The people who follow her (mostly) uncritically are either in love with her, or people like Missandie and Grey Worm, who were slaves that she freed. These people are not only subjects, and they do not have any authority of their own. They are followers. That is important. Danaerys collects and surrounds herself with followers. It's also important that almost right after Missandie gives a glowing review of Dany's greatness, we have a scene that is very clearly meant to shake our faith in her.

Or maybe I see this scene this way because I already despise the idea of a Targ Restoration? That's possible. I won't deny that I'm biased. I'll prefer anyone over Targs.

In conclusion, I would like to say that this is something to think about. Would Dany give up her crown for her people? I sincerely doubt it. I mean she prioritises Jon bending the knee over her helping people in the same conversation where she tells Jon he should prioritise helping people over.....not bending the knee. Then she burns food. Mind fucked.

Bless Missandie tho, she really believes what she's saying.

#dark danny #jonsa meta #pol!jon

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kai5621 · 3 years ago

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Deja vu [Heisenberg x OC]

Warning: age gap, slow burn, platonic to romantic relationship. Grammer issues (english is my first language criiii) . Child abuse, family abuse, death (not major character ). Eventual smut (maybe?）

Note: OK !!!! SO after drawing a bunch of RE8 OCs I finally could resist my self writing my own story about it. Cuz damm Heisenberg stole all my heart and I have no complains about it.

This is my first time writing a fanfic, so I will try my best !! And lastly-----

HEISENBERG DESERVES SOOO MUCH MROE LOVE.

And here’s a little potrait thet I drew for the oc (as for why I didn’t draw heisenberg as well, is bcuz im shit at drawing males ┭┮﹏┭┮)

The first time Heisenberg met Erin, she was only eight, can barely reach his waist and always be smiling everyday, like an every single child would at her age. She came to this shitty village with her dad, which claims to be her only family member. They are obviously foreigners to the villagers, as no one remembered there’s anyone in this place would have a such strong British accent, therefore they must be new.

Their family history has remained a mystery to most of them, oddly enough, only a few people who are about eighty or ninety years old do recall their family name, and were quite surprised to see that Erin’s father is back here again. Although every single one of them would shoot him with fierce glances that are not so friendly, even towards Erin. Except for Luiza, but even though her kindness was mainly for the poor little girl.

“I don’t understand, Charles. If you decided to leave this place before with such determination, why bother came back?” She asked her father sternly, while watching Erin just quietly standing behind him. She was thin, with a long, dark raven hair tied into a loose pony tail. But she does look endearing, those big, innocent watery eyes could gain everyone’s sympathy.

“That’s none of your business, and why does it even matter to you?” He seemed annoyed when answering this question, he roughly grabbed Erin’s wrist, without looking any of the people here, he just simply left, leaving others remain in silent confusion. Some younger villagers did ask Luiza about Erin’s origin, but all the time she just shooked her head, signed heavily.

“May mother Miranda bless that little girl. She does not deserve such man as her father.....”

Of course, Heisenberg would never missed such local news from the village. He did pay a visit to the new “guests” before informing Miranda and his siblings. The appearance of new faces surely hooked his curiosity quite high, but to be honest, he doesn’t even understand why he was that excited, as surely they would probably just end like the locals here, worshiping Miranda like she’s an actual god, and then would went missing mysteriously but eventually end up on her cold, metal operating table, with chest being cut open, blood splatters all around the body, while the Cadou parasite just devouring the remains.

Didn’t someone mentioned the family also has a daughter? Ah, then perhaps that lucky little thing would go to his sister’s castle and can becomes one of the “maid”. Just another victim, Heisenberg thought to himself, he could not hide his grin back. Holding his hammer at the back of his shoulder, he walked quickly to that infamous cottage where the new family is settled, a few quite whispers can be heard during his journey, the villagers were all surprised to see the presence of the metal lord, and naturally inquiring behind his journey.

Just like before, Heisenberg ignored all of them,

When he finally reached the shabby wooden door, of the cottage, he didn’t even bother knocking, just pushed the door wide open violently, using his ridiculous strength meanwhile announcing his arrival.

“Well, well, there’s been news all around the village about the new family, and I thought I could a pay a little visit, to get to know the new members! You are welcome, by the way......”

But when all he saw was a little girl standing by the dinning table, looking confused and stunned at him, his smug smile disappeared quickly, and even the eyes behind his dark specs were filled with momentary surprise.

“Uh, sir?” She asked quietly, putting the tray of cookies down on the table in a panic.

“Are you.... my father’s guest? I’m really sorry, he will be a away for a quite long time, and I’m not sure if.....”

He stood there for a moment, and then realized that she must be the daughter, although she’s much much younger than he anticipated. He cut her off before she finished the sentence : “Huh, so you don’t know who I am ?”

She looked so lost, after blinked her eyes a few times, she nervously said : “Sorry sir, I’m afraid I don’t.”

Heisenberg was never good with children, never, he didn’t really know what to do, after all he wasn’t expecting to meet a child who probably doesn’t even know what a dick is. So, they just stood where they were before, and staring at each other awkwardly in silence, to a point that even the little girl started to feel uncomfortable. She looked around quickly, trying to find something that could resolve this situation, then her eyes fixed on the tray of cookies on the table.

“Um, maybe...do you want to have a cookie, sir?”

The man with the hammer went speechless, he coughed a few times, put his hammer down next to the door frame, and blankly replied back with a tiny bit of fluster.

“Alright then. ”

It was fucking ridiculous.

Heisenberg would never imagined himself sitting in a old cottage, eating chocolate cookies and drinking teas like a normal human, while chatting with an eight years old girl.

Yes, he’s never good with kids, why would he? Being brought by a psycho bitch means he shouldn’t have any sympathy towards anything, everyone in this village had a good taste about his temper before, even his “Lord” title makes it too intimidate for anyone to have any contact with him. Thus, he never had a decent conversation with anyone else besides his cursed family. Frankly speaking, they were not really conversations, more like endless quarrels.

He had a quick look around in the room, when Erin went to the kitchen to make tea. This place is shabby, there’s no doubt about it. No painting, no decorations, only an old wool blanket laying down on the floor of the living room. He could see a few photo frames on the bookshelf, cover by dusts. He tried to have to closer look, but all he could see was three people standing together, presumably a family photo that was taken a long time ago.

“Here’s your tea, sir. And there’s milk and sugar.” She was holding a big tray, walking carefully towards table and almost got tripped by the chair. Heisenberg almost chuckled at her clumsy yet cute actions, but he remained silent, and finished his ninth cookie.

“Well, thanks, little one.” He said simply, then started to sip his tea. He saw Erin was standing next to the table like a lost little lamb, he can’t help but chuckled a bit, gesturing her towards the seat across him.

“ Oh come on, no need to be so frightened! I won’t eat ya.”

She was a bit hesitate at first, but eventually took his offer, sit across the table facing him. Although the teapot blocked half of her face.

“So....” Heisenberg started again, with his smug smile back on his face: “You are new here aren’t you, with your family.”

“Yes. Me and my father came a week ago, from England. But he used to live here, at least that’s what I know. ”

That made his curiosity even higher. An outsider, that originally lived here, how interesting, and how did they even escaped this twisted place.

“Where’s your father now?”

This question let her seemed a bit troubled, she shooked her head, looking disappointed : “I don’t know, sir. He said he’s busy, and that’s it.”

His grin became wider: “And didn’t your daddy tell you, that do not let strangers come into your house while you are alone?”

To his surprise, she did not seem scared, but instead she tilted her head as she was a bit confused, and answered him back politely.

“But I didn’t let you in, sir. You just opened the door and, broke in........”

Heisenberg burst into laughter right after he heard this answer, it was really loud, even the teapot and the cups on the table started to shake a bit, but thankfully Erin didn’t notice, she was completely stunned by his reaction and didn’t know what to do. She thought she probably offend him by saying that. But the truth is, Heisenberg is not mad at all, this child’s unintentional boldness is exactly what he likes.

“ Oh yes! I did break into your house, and aren’t you scared?”

“Should I be scared?” She calmly asked him back, filling his cup again with more tea. “I was tho, but you seem like a nice guy. At least I don’t think a bad person would eat my cookies and having tea with me. If you want harm me you would've done this way earlier.”

He could have so much fun with this kid, Heisenberg though to himself. An outsider was rare enough on its own, no praying, no worshiping, and he won’t hear all those “Miranda bless us” shit. Although, it’s quite ironic that his first decent conservation in 20 was held with a freaking child.

But he’s not complaining. He finished his tea, looking around the room for the last time then shoot his glance back on her. He stood up, ignoring the girl’s skeptical look, Heisenberg chuckled a bit.

With that, he simply waved his hand, and left the house.

“Well, thank you for your service little one, I’m afraid I must got now. But I’m sure we will meet again soon.”

He grabbed his hammer by the door frame, opened the door in a swift motion.

“And send my greetings to your father, will you, little one?”

#karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg fanfic

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underkita-archive · 4 years ago

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s.o learning/teaching how to skate

a/n: this was my first work for the fandom but it wouldn’t show up in tags :’) i think i figured out the problem tho~ anyway no proofreading/beta we die like men im srry if this is stupid!!

warnings: some cuss words

summary: s.o learning/teaching how to skate w/ iwaizumi, matsukawa + hanamaki

he notices the bruises and scrapes on your hands and legs and it immediately makes him go !!!

“are you okay do i need to throw someone?”

and you’re just like no?? and explain to him that you’ve been teaching yourself to skate

which still makes him go !!! bc he knows how dangerous it gets n he’s also seen you trip over your own feet (it’s only happened twice he needs to stop bringing it up)

out of concern he states he will be watching your next skate sesh n you just shrug n say ok bc why bother arguing plus it’s more time spent w him

“are you sure you don’t want me to buy you elbow and knee pads?” iwaizumi’s eyes flicker between you and the board under your foot.

“i think i can survive a few more bumps and bruises hajime.” you stick your tongue out at him and start to push forward, away from the skeptical look in your boyfriend’s eyes. you hear him inhale sharply as you take a wide turn and smile as you pass by him, blowing him a kiss. feeling a bit more confident, you take a bit of a sharper turn and feel yourself begin to wobble trying to regain your balance but immediately losing your footing the second one of the wheels hits a pebble. as you fall off the board you brace yourself for the hard impact but feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist and pulling you against a warm body.

“just what the hell am i supposed to do with you?” he hisses it into your ear and sets you back on your feet, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“continue to love me and catch me?” with a roll of his eyes he presses another kiss to your forehead, “hey how about you try?” he shakes his head, scowl deepening with each plea but you have him wrapped around your little finger so it only takes one more ‘pretty please hajime’ before he agrees. he hops on the board with ease and starts to circle you, grinning as you realize this isn’t his first time.

“okay how come this has never been brought up before you look so hot right now.” he stops in front of you and takes your hands in his.

“yeah?”

“mhm.” before he can reply you pull him in for a soft kiss.

you’ve been skating for nearly a year at this point so you’ve grown quite confident

and mattsun thinks you look so mcfreakin hot when you skate so he insists on being there pretty much every skate sesh

he’ll sit to the side in the shade w your water bottle fawning over you, clapping whenever you land a trick and running over whenever you fall

he begs you to teach him but you’re hesitant bc you don’t want him to fall and injure himself and risk having to sit out any games

but he states that he can get injured anytime during volleyball what’s the difference??

you give up on trying to pick at his flawed logic and finally tell him you’ll let him try riding your board (haha riding)

mattsun is beaming as you walk hand in hand to the empty basketball court at the park by his house. he woke you up at 7 am on a saturday just so you could skate and you can’t help but be endeared at how excited he is and how he looks like an overgrown puppy. it’s rare to see him make such an enthusiastic.

“watch me do a kick flip i bet i can do a kick flip and i’ll look good while doing it.”

“absolutely no kick flips for you headass.” you poke at his side and he laughs pulling you along. you set down your board and tell him to put on his knee pads (that he fought you on bringing but of course you won).

“okay now figure out which foot you’re more comfy with having on the board and the one you wanna push with,” you watch as he tests both feet and laugh as he gives you a thumbs up with his right foot on the board, “god of course you’d push goofy.”

“why does my foot have to be on the front why not the back.” you watch in horror as he places his foot farther back on the board.

“baby that’s called pushing mongo, and i will break up with you if you try to do that okay?” he laughs at you and nods. he starts practicing pushing himself along and you can’t help but hover hands ready to steady him. he gets more comfortable and tries to put both feet on but the motion makes him wobbly and his hands reach out for yours. you intertwine your fingers and help him regain balance.

“wait wait y/n pull me!” you mutter something about him being lazy but the sparkle in his eyes makes you concede. you pull him along on the board giggling together as you move around the basketball court. after going around a few more times he hops off the board and pulls you tightly into his arms.

“you suck at skating.”

“you still love me though.” you nod fondly and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“i’m gonna do it, i’m gonna live life by our national anthem”

“makki????”

“skater boy by avril lavigne”

which is how you two ended up throwing some money away on skateboards and helmets (of course yours are matching)

neither of you have a clue as to what you’re doing so you hunch over makkis phone at lunch watching beginner skate videos ignoring the heckling comments from mattsun and oikawa

and after watching all of one and half vids you two feel like it’s time to give it a try

you watch as makki almost falls for the fourth time since starting your skating practice and this time you’re able to stifle the giggle that builds up in your chest. you make your own attempt at pushing yourself forward on the board, only wobbling slightly.

“hey sweet ass.” makki sings as you scoot by him, you flip him off and grin as he shoots you finger hearts. you both awkwardly roll around trying to stay on your boards longer and longer.

“makki lets race,” he quirks a brow at the challenge, “loser buys dinner.”

“oh baby you are sooo on.” you both make your way to one end of the park.

“okay so whoever makes it to that tree first wins,” you declare, “and no pushing.”

he pouts at the accusation but nods in agreement. you both ready yourselves, foot planted firmly on your board you count to 3, pushing the best you can and desperately trying to keep your balance. you risk a look at makki to see his brows knit together tightly. you’re only slightly in front of him but it’s enough to win. you move to push again when you hit a slight dip that cause you to lose balance and the board to shoot out from under you causing you to fall backwards right into makki. it’s not a pretty fall but your saved from the brunt of the impact by makki who falls backwards while hugging you tightly to him. you scramble out of his grip and straddle his hips as you start to pat at his head.

“oh my god, is your head okay love?” you slip your fingers to the back of his head and feel for any blood, you can feel a slight bump forming causing your heart to sink but you’re relieved at the lack of blood.

“please i’ve not only had oikawa serve to the back of my head but have been bashed by iwa and mattsun’s spikes,” he knocks on the side of his head, “shits solid, and has been empty for years.”

you let out a exasperated laugh at the statement and peck his nose. you help him back and up and the two of you go and retrieve your runaway board.

“cmon my handsome savior, i’ll treat you to ice cream after we go halfsies on dinner.”

#sigh this was my first ever hc/post for the blr for this fandom #oh how things have changed <33 #miki who wrote this would probs be both floored n not surprised ksjdhdj #aoba johsai #makki #mattsun #iwaizumi #miki writes

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