#tho I can’t shake that skeptic in me

[peacesmovingcabaret]

So it looks like the new season of Great Pretender is gonna be more Dorothy centric.

One of my biggest issues I had in the previous seasons was how each case was meant as build up for this ultimate revenge scheme revolving around her. Despite her having little to no impact on the actual plot other than a brief mention in the end of Case 3 and a mostly flashback appearance in Case 4.

Hopefully this might make up for that a little.

[willyoubemycherryy]

“Who’s your new friend?” (Salesman x reader)

Summary: Your dad’s dark stranger is the one for you. Too bad about his cruel streak….

Contains: sit down chicas this is a LONG one, plot but gratuitous p+rn, dads!friend au, rough sex, edging, pussy spanking, he’s mean :( , choking, drugging, everything IS consensual bc I’m tired of everyone writing him as a domestic terrorlzing rapist, he’s still psychotic and unhinged tho, just not psychosexual because psychotic traits don’t always translate to sexual violence, your dad is sweet but trusting and naive, squirting, pussyspanking unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy, wrap your gummy) begging, degradation, praise, cursing, reader is a bit of a bitch, light dom/sub dynamics, his cock is stuuuupid fat bc I said so and have eyeballs, ur 22 in this period and he’ll spit in your mouth in the next installment of this series :)

A/N: Yeah, he got me y’all😔 Gong Yoo sexy, fine, tall, handsome ass got me😞I’ve been tripping out for 17 days straight over this man sooo…

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ _ _

_ ➵ ✩ ◛ ° . +

You knew your dad often had strange friends but this one takes the cake.

Raising a skeptical eyebrow at the tall man your father was currently introducing you to. Standing over 6 feet in a pitch black suit he was extremely easy on the eyes with full lips, perfectly styled hair, relaxed posture and not a wrinkle in sight paired with the darkest almond eyes you’d ever seen. You rove your eyes over him once more before looking back up to find him staring back at you…

Yes, he was perfectly lovely but was it too soon to assume something about him was..off?

You feel your face warm at how strong his gaze is but you stare back defiantly, mentally cursing your too trusting dad.

“…and since we chat almost everyday during our commute to work- would you guess that we’re both in sales and marketing?- I thought it’d be great to invite him over and talk more in a more comfortable setting!” Your dad says excitedly, smiling as he tells you all about his new friend. The man smiles alongside him, cheeks faintly dimpling and despite your distrust, you can’t take your eyes off of him as you feel your heart beat harder in its cage.

“I was going to call to tell you I was bringing company but you know I forget to use that thing.” ‘That thing’ being a modern phone to a man who was awful with tech. You scoff but nod to let him know you don’t mind (completely) and because you already know how your father is and he continues,

“Oh right! Speaking of forgetting, I don’t remember if I ever mentioned my daughter even though I know I probably did-“, you listen to your dad introduce you and the man smiles even wider as he steps forward, offering his hand to yours in a shake.

“How pleasant to meet you.” Holy shit. His voice is a lot deeper than you expected and you absentmindedly place your hand into his waiting one. The way it completely encases your hand due to its sheer size makes your heart stop before it melts down to a warm pool in your lower stomach, settling in your core like hot tea as you breathe out a shaky exhale. His hand is also rougher than you thought it’d be for a simple businessman as it squeezes yours and a quick flash image of that same hand around your throat has you snatching your hand back as you shoot him a tight smile.

“Right. Back at ya. Um, how old are you again?”

“Ah. Isn’t that improper to ask new people?”

“I’m just curious to how you maintain a career as developed as my dads because you seem so young.”

Oh. You’re quick witted; that makes things a potential hassle for him.

“Well, I’m much older than you. I’m certainly older than your father.”

“Ha! Are you also the Emperor of China-”, You’re cut off as your dad says your name in the way he does when you’re being rude but you ignore it, glaring at the man.

“Be polite! He’s older so you should speak respectfully”, you barely hide the roll of your eyes but your fathers new friend catches it and you swear you hear a huff of amusement from him, the low sound makes you shiver as you turn on your heel to go back upstairs, your dads scolding calling after you.

“Aish! Spoiled! Brat! You were so much cuter when you were younger!”

“Whatever!”

“Bellybutton lint!”

“Old man!”

“Oh yeah?! You won’t be 22 forever!”

The only response he gets back is the sound of your bedroom door slamming while you’re all too aware of the eyes on your back when you’d left. Your dad sighs as he runs a hand down his face. The salesman simply stands quietly, grinning as always as he observes your little spat. Something about it caught his attention though.

“She’s young.” And your father agrees, insisting that’s part of the reason for your behavior, you apparently were “much nicer” and he nods in understanding.

“College age is tricky. I met her mom around her age and things are so much more different than they were back in our day so I try not to be too hard on her but sometimes she’s so-!” He tilts his head as he waits for your dad to find the word.

“Difficult!”

Ah. How cute. A little attitude problem.

That honestly doesn’t surprise him because most pretty little things almost always had one- you were no exception. Though, you yourself were a pleasant surprise. He’d maintained a friendly relationship with your father on a mere whim, finding him to be…nice unlike most he considered nuisances, so when the man invited him over one day he accepted and as he trailed through the door behind him, taking in the warm tones of your house when he spotted you. Standing near the island by the kitchen in shorts so tiny the wide waistband made them look like a mini skirt, the words ‘PINK’ on the back and a snug white tee shirt, the blue of your bra peeking through, you walk towards them smelling of fabric softener and cold vanilla. Your hair was down as you stared at him like you were both scared and wanting with big eyes full of suspicion. The gloss of your lips shining back at him as your lips curl during your inspection of him, lightly arched brow raising as you gave him a thorough once over, eyes flicking back up to his when you were done. You were absolutely delicious to look at. Short, smart mouthed, pretty and prissy.

He didn’t mind the rude way you spoke to him- no- because your eyes tell. You were weary but interested; cynical in all the ways your father wasn’t but that was perfectly fine.

His smile slowly shifted into a smirk as he followed your father to the living room, humming whenever he would speak, but his thoughts were preoccupied.

Thinking of smooth legs on a cute face he’d love to see wet with tears as he spanked your smart ass raw.

•

•

•

When you went upstairs the first thing you did was grab your headphones and tune out.

What the fuck was your dad thinking??

You huff as you flop on your bed, scrolling through your favorite apps while you tried to slow your thoughts.

Everything is fine.

Your dad always has the most unconventional friends and acquaintances so this was probably just that and you were freaking out more than usual because he was unfathomably attractive. That’s it. You just needed to get a grip. But fuck would you love to ride him through the weekend if only he didn’t have such a concerning aura…and wasn’t pals with your dad of-course.

About 2 hours later when you go downstairs to get food and bring it back to your room-answering curtly when your dad asks if you want to join him and the hot stare of the suited man you’re trying to pretend isn’t there.

“Hard no. Do I look like a nurse? You two senior citizens can play amongst yourselves.”

You sigh when you get back up to your room, FaceTiming your friends as you eat, talking about whatever and whoever before you remember you need to organize some of your class notes and say goodbye before you hang up.

It takes less time than you thought it would so when you’re done, you go about your night routine. Teeth, skincare, oversized cotton shirt, lights off as you put on a movie you’ve seen a million times. It’s harder for you to fall asleep when you can still hear his deep voice through the walls talking and laughing with your dad, shaking your core as you toss and turn- physically fighting the feeling- until you fall asleep.

X

Another few hours later, you wake with a start. Something’s not right.

You can still hear the tv downstairs but no voices. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and as you turn your head towards your door- pulling the covers off your legs, the sight of a tall dark figure rips a blood curdling scream from your throat. In that same second the figure steps closer, the light from your tv illuminates him and your heart races as you stare back wide eyed at your dads suited stranger friend. You’re still gasping and reeling as he sits down on your soft bedding, watching with rapt eyes at you trying to calm down from the near heart-attack he almost gave you.

“W-what..what the fuck?!” He smiles as you get up to yell in his face, gesturing wildly.

“Why the hell are you in my-“, you cut yourself off as another realization dawns on you completely and he can’t help the compulsion he feels towards you.

“How long have you been in my room- wait where’s my dad?!” If you knew who he was and what he did for a living, you’d be much more agreeable…or maybe not and that’s what fascinated him about you. You were so unusual. Wanting to steer clear of him instead of on, even though he’d piqued your curiosity, you didn’t blindly follow like every other nuisance did; instead he was the inconvenience and the way you let him know via sharp words and distrusting looks was something he hadn’t gotten in a while. The way you brushed him and your hard working dad off with no more than a pretty glare while probably never having actually worked for anything in your life made him itch to correct you. Make you say sorry- break you back into the sweet girl he knew you could be.

“I swear to god- WHERE IS MY DAD-!“, before you can raise your voice anymore, turning to go find him yourself, he’s pulling you back by your wrist, covering your mouth with his other hand as he hooks his chin over your shoulder cooing at you to calm down - listen to him a bit.

“Shh. Your father is alright, had too much to drink so he’s passed out downstairs but safe nonetheless.” You feel your body relax against your will at his words but you still bite his palm for scaring the hell out of you. The pain that blooms up his wrist from his hand makes him hiss against your ear and you wish it didn’t sound so good before it trails off into a light chuckle.

“I’m going to move my hand. You won’t scream. Understand?” You roll your eyes but nod anyway and a few seconds later his hand is lowered but he keeps you sitting up against him.

“Look- if you’re some kind of extortionist or blackmailer, my dad only works for clean honest compan-“,

“I’m none of those things.” Huh. You’re even more confused but the silence that follows he doesn’t break instead he waits for you, enjoying your discomfort as you shift against him.

“Then what the fuck do you want? Nothing better to do in your ancient age on a Tuesday night besides creep around?” Your mouth would be the death of you and this might very well be the moment as you mouth off to a complete stranger who could be (and actually is) very dangerous but bravado was all you had. You’d seen and heard more than enough to know that an older man in a suit visiting a young girl he didn’t know in the dead of night never ended well.

“I want to chat for a bit.” You tilt your head a bit in confusion but he takes your silence as the go ahead, making your heart pound when he shuffles even closer causing you to feel his firm pecs through his expensive smelling dress shirt; the heady combination makes your pulse race as you fight yourself on whatever it is exactly that you’re feeling but shouldn’t be.

“When your father mentioned you, you sounded like such a nice girl…”, the low way he speaks resembles a purr, words vibrating his chest, thick arms holding you tight to him as his warm breaths coast across your chest and neck.

“Imagine my surprise when I meet you and you’re nothing more than an ungrateful little princess with a pretty face but very nasty attitude.” You feel your face warm in shame at the blatant way he calls you out, immediately defensive as you shoot back,

“What’s it to you? If you want to see some obedient thing then get a boarder collie-!” Enough of that. His hand claps down over your throat, squeezing not enough to hurt but enough to make you shut up as your heart rate spikes, nerves going haywire at the sudden cut of oxygen. You get dizzy quick. Blood rushing through your ears like a current of cotton, hand flying up on instinct to pull at his muscled forearm but it doesn’t budge and you whine- biting your lip as your heart beats liquid fire through your body. You were so fucked up, clamping your thighs shut as if that will stop you from getting wet but it’s hard to pay attention to that with a tight hand around your neck and mean lips against your ear.

“Didn’t your father tell you to respect your elders?” He tuts out and you nod desperately, willing to swallow your snideness if it meant getting air. He loosens his grip enough for you and you gasp so hard you nearly choke, the sound turning him on more than it should; he grabs your chin so you face him with teary eyes and he nearly groans at how weak you look. The sedatives he slipped in your dad’s drink would last for a while so for now it was just you and him.

“Answer me.”

“You first-“, you’re quick to shut your mouth as a smirk grows on his face. A fast learner.

“Smart. But”, he pauses to put you on edge before continuing, “because I quite enjoy your father and his company, I don’t like the thought of him being troubled by anything.” His words are sweet but they also fill you with dread because you know how much you intentionally butt heads with your father. Mouthing off at him just to amuse yourself sometimes. You never meant to stress him but messing with him a little was how you showed your affection.

“That includes you as well.” He rasps against your neck, nipping the sensitive skin there with more teeth than tongue and you choke on a moan, breathing hard.

“Okay. Got it. I need to be nicer-”,

“No, you need a firm hand.” Oh fuck. You bite your lip at that, watching through bleary eyes as he rubs his other hand down your chest, brushing your hard nipples through your shirt as he feels up your soft curves. The hand around your throat tightens when he feels you might move but when you don’t he doesn’t loosen it- instead he rewards you with wet, scalding kisses behind that spot under your ear, suckling down until he reaches your collarbones. Your eyes water from all the sensations as you try to rationalize what’s going on before you lose yourself to how good you feel.

The hand caressing over your body doesn’t stop, threatening to burn you alive with the heat it ignites in you. To make matters worse, you can’t even breathe deeply enough to calm down with the hold he has on your neck and you’re reminded of how pathetically wet you are whenever you move your legs as you’re completely naked underneath your shirt. So much is happening but it’s not enough. Fleetingly scarce touches is all you’re being given but you need more. You shouldn’t want this, want him- or anything having to do with him- but you do and that thought scares you more than any potential repercussions.

He watches you with an unreadable expression as you shift constantly, sliding a hand under your shirt to cup your tits, flicking and twisting the stiff nubs cruelly between his fingers. Laving his tongue over each bruise he’s left on your neck before choking you harder, making the veins on the back of his hand show and your mouth drops open, hoarse broken moans falling as your hips twitch upwards. This was how he liked you. Melting into him so obediently…

“You’re going to be a good girl now?” He asks like it’s a question but the even in hazy state you’re falling into, you know it’s an order. He loosens his grip again so you can answer, voice hoarse,

“..y-yeah.” The softened tone you use when you respond makes him hard beyond belief and he bites your shoulder with a satisfied groan and you swear your cunt has a pulse. The familiar burning ache is so blinding that you listen immediately when he tells you-

“Open your legs.”

He almost didn’t hear your sharp intake of breath. He barely noticed the way your hips snapped up to hump his hand… he was preoccupied with just how wet you were. Your arousal coats his fingers as he slides them between your sopping lips making you keen through shuddering breaths as you try to control yourself. A few hard circles to your clit shatters that control as you cry out, needy sobs falling from your gloss smeared lips while you beg prettily for him.

“Please! I-! I’ll-anything! Just-!” His hand collar tightens again as he slides two fingers knuckle deep in your spasming hole, immediately curling them towards him, grinding them against that spongy bundle of nerves inside you and the fire that’s been steadily burning inside you almost makes you black out from how quick it threatens to consume you. You’ve never felt more out of your mind, your cunt so soaking wet it’s audible. White-searing pleasure shoots electricity through every nerve and you’re screaming. Between the fuzz in your head from oxygen loss or the brutal way he’s fucking you with his fingers- the one thing you do know is that if you cum now, you’ll faint.

“Waittt- mm-! S-stopp!!” It’s the struggle of a lifetime to get the words out but you do and when you do, surprisingly- he listens. Taking his fingers out as the strings of your slick drip from them and you cry at the loss, the ache still there but you could at least breathe. You feel a nip at your ear and you only then notice the way you’ve rested your weight completely against him.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick with arousal from how wonderfully you responded to him. So wet he could taste it in the air as you trembled and cried against him. The water in your eyes spilling down over as they rolled back into your skull. Your face was the perfect erotic expression of tormented bliss as he made you earn air and fight off an orgasm so strong it would’ve put you in a vegetative state.

The sound of your weak sniffles make his cock ache as he lays back on your bed, maneuvering your hips over his as he opens his pants, taking his length out he moans at the pressure relief. Swiping his fat head through your messy folds but not inside.

“Well? I need you to answer me. Or do I need to get it out of you myself?” You shake your head, lifting your arms when he moves your shirt up off you and now you’re completely naked while he’s still clothed. As much as his stare intimidated you, his attentions felt even better, moaning at the dirty kisses his cock gave your hole.

“Was gonna cum…but you didn’t say I could yet”, you reach up to use his arm as leverage while you wiggle your hips and your submission drives him mad with how much he wants to ruin you.

“Aw. That’s cute…but if you came before I let you, what then? Are you smart enough to tell me?” He asks sweetly but the condescending undertone makes you feel dumb as heat blooms in your chest and you will away the fuzz that’s making it hard to think so you can give him a proper answer. One that would please him. The fact that you even wanted to please him was something you’d have to get back to.

“I’d be in trouble?” You say it like a question and less of an answer and he finds your uncertainty so cute as he laughs indulgently at you.

“Close. It’s because you’re my good girl. And my girl only does as she’s told, yeah?” The same trickling tingle at the base of your skull is back again as you mindlessly repeat after him.

“Yeah.” He hums, lining himself up with your drooling pussy, sliding in with one thrust. Gritting his teeth with a heavy groan while you choke on a sob.

“Fuckin’ tight-!” Deep grunting in your ear overwhelming you in the best way and you lose it from how full you are. You could’ve guessed by his height and frame that he’d be packing but it felt fatter than you would have ever been able to accurately guess, pressing effortlessly against every spot that made you see stars.

You were everlastingly grateful your dad was knocked out because the sounds coming from you and your room were beyond incriminating. Even though he wasn’t moving, every-time you did, you could feel the deliciously heavy pressure against your slick walls. Shivers wracking up your body as wheezing fucked out moans left your mouth and you grind down in messy circles until the hand on your throat stops you.

“Look at you. Desperate n’ wet begging to cum. You’d do anything I tell you, huh? Just like a dog.”

A disgustingly pathetic warble is his reply but he wants more from you, choking you hard as he pinches your sensitive nipples.

“Uhhn! Yes!” The sheer desperation in your shaky voice gives him a sick head-rush.

“Open your legs for me.”

You obey before he even finishes his sentence. Thighs falling apart, cooled air over your center makes you moan wetly as you wait patiently. So patiently that the first heavy slap against your pussy winds you by the time the pain registers. As soon as the sting settles, warmth pools in its place, sensitivity heightened as you wail. The stricken sound makes his cock throb inside you.

“Wha-!”, another slap cracks down on your swollen lips, hitting your clit spot on and again and you try in vain to wriggle away.

“You still need to prove to me that you’re sorry for your behavior earlier.” He says, voice casual but no less mocking and you cry. Tears running down your cheeks as your body struggles to adjust and obey. Before you can shout out however many strings of apologies it’ll take for him to let you cum, he strikes your center again, hissing in pleasure at your screams. He feels it. That somehow you’re even wetter, dripping down his balls and smearing your slick all over the front of his slacks. He has half a mind to make you clean it up when he’s done with with you as he spanks your cunt again, biting your ear hard until it reddens.

“If you cum before I tell you, I promise I’ll make this the longest night of your life”, he groans darkly in your ear. You’re blessed that you can still hear him through the bass of your heart’s beat and the loud, wet connect every time his hand comes down. You were so close. The sharp sting and the pained pleasure of swelling warmth his heavy hand left behind was too much and your poor clit couldn’t take much more. Gasping through your tears, you scramble to find the right words.

“‘Lease- please! Ah-m’sorry!” Your raspy voice breaks halfway through when lifts you only to slam you back down on his fat length, flicking your sensitive nub when he meanly asks you,

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Try again, little girl.” You night just be in for a long night after all.

You could barely breathe from how hard he was choking you, swollen pussy enflamed from countless spanks, and your center was stuffed to the brim as he was so big that he didn’t even have to try to hit your spots. You scratch and wrestle with his hand until he loosens it, gasping and whining, you pray you don’t come from the instant relief it gives you. The rush settling over you like a fuzzy blanket. He shifts below you and you hurry to get the words out before he makes you come without his say-so.

“I’m- I’m sorry! So sorry! Please Sir, can I-!”

Sir. You called him sir.

It’s less of you apologizing but more of you submitting to him, acknowledging him by title that he held superiority over you that pleases him enough to let you cum. Cutting off your sweet begging with more mean, heavy slaps to your wet pussy, basking in your delighted wails as he fucks up into you.

His hand tightens around your throat and this time, you welcome the suffocating pleasure. Scratchy cries escape when they can but you’re so far on the road to ecstasy that you don’t even care how you look or sound, chest heaving as your eyes water. Your cunt feels like it’s on fire but you beg him in every way you can to keep going even though you can’t take it and he does, groaning against your ear as he rubs messily at your throbbing clit.

“So good, baby- you can cum. Make your little mess before I make you beg some more-”, he does not have to tell you twice as everything you’ve been holding, releases and you do make a mess.

Mouth dropped open as you sob and for the next couple minutes hot unending pleasure is all you know as the stinging slaps get faster, ending with harsh circles on your bud after each one and your hole gets even tighter before you go limp- liquid jetting out of you. He fucks you through it with a tight grip on your windpipe, using you like a snug fleshlight until he’s coming harder than he has in a while at the state he’s put you in. He waits until he catches his breath to slide out of you- who’s deadweight as he lifts you off him.

Rolling off the bed, the silence makes him look over at you only to see that you’re out cold. His eyebrows raise as he huffs out an amused laugh, fixing his pants before brushing his hand over your pretty face. He might have overdone it he thinks as he sees your face return to it’s normal, less flushed hue. Leaning down, on impulse he presses a kiss to your cheek, his gentlest touch of the night before getting up and covering your worn naked body with one of the many blankets on your bed.

“You’re a treat in more ways than you know.”

As he stands, before he opens your door to leave, he pulls a card out of his pocket and leaves it on your nightstand then heads back downstairs to get his shoes and jacket. Turning off the tv where your dad sleeps easily and quietly slipping out the door, smiling the entire way. Now he has even more fun.

You.

•

•

•

When you wake up the next morning, you turn with a pleasant ache and stinging between your legs as you stretch, sighing with a blissful smile until you remember why you ache and who caused it.

Pushing yourself up, you stop when you see a card on your stand, rolling to the edge of your bed, you swipe it off and raise it to your face. It’s a picture of lollipop, a simple circle on a stick but the words below it make your chest warm and you don’t even bother pretending to yourself that you aren’t interested in seeing him again.

“Next time I’ll make you even sweeter.”

In part 2…

[mya-valentine]

I loved your Bleach Headcanons with Renji!..

Can I please have some headcanons where Ichigo, Rukia, Orihime, Uryu, and Urahara meeting a Soul Reaper who goes on Long-term missions ( can be gone for months at a time), and ends up running into them. And ends up saving them without knowing who they even are? (She has hallucination powers so potent they can effect the blind)

(She also wears a mask, and her robe has a hood on it. (She doesn’t show her face or body to ANYONE (her eyes can still be seen tho)

Headcanon: Meeting Mysterious Soul Reaper

Ichigo Kurosaki

Ichigo is immediately on edge when he encounters this Soul Reaper. Her masked and hooded appearance sets off his instincts, and he assumes she’s an enemy at first. The fact that her powers can affect even the blind both impresses and unnerves him.

Ichigo is grateful but frustrated by how little he knows about her. He tries to talk to her, but her reluctance to reveal her face or identity drives him crazy. He admires her strength but can’t shake the feeling that she’s hiding something big.

He starts making it a personal mission to figure out who she is, even pestering Urahara and Rukia about her. He can't stand being left in the dark about someone so powerful who seemingly vanishes after helping him.

Despite the mystery, Ichigo comes to respect her skills and her willingness to help without expecting anything in return. Her independence reminds him of his own.

Rukia Kuchiki

Rukia is more intrigued than suspicious. She sees the masked Soul Reaper as someone with a purpose she doesn’t fully understand but can’t help respecting. Her long-term missions hint at responsibilities that most Soul Reapers aren’t entrusted with.

Rukia is impressed and slightly uneasy about her powers. She wonders what kind of person can wield such an ability and still remain mentally stable. It reminds her of how dangerous certain abilities in the Soul Society can be.

Rukia tries to engage with her in a formal and polite way, but the masked Soul Reaper’s reserved nature makes it difficult. Rukia eventually respects her desire for privacy and leaves her alone—though she’s curious about what she’s hiding.

Seeing her in action, Rukia feels inspired. She wonders if the Soul Reaper’s long-term missions have forced her to become so closed-off and isolated, and Rukia feels a deep sense of pity for her, even if she never says it aloud.

Orihime Inoue

Orihime is immediately fascinated by her mysterious aura. She finds her masked and hooded appearance cool and asks a ton of questions, which are likely ignored or deflected.

After being saved, Orihime is the most openly thankful of the group. She tries to offer her healing powers as repayment, even if the Soul Reaper seems indifferent to it.

Orihime can’t help but feel that the masked Soul Reaper must be lonely. She tries to talk to her more than anyone else, offering kindness and warmth, even if it’s not reciprocated.

Orihime wonders what’s behind the mask and hood, but she doesn’t press. She assumes there’s a tragic reason for the secrecy and respects her boundaries, even if she wishes she could help her open up.

Uryu Ishida

Uryu is initially skeptical of her intentions. Her anonymity and the nature of her powers put him on edge, especially since Quincy history is full of betrayals by Soul Reapers. He watches her closely, always assuming she might have ulterior motives.

After seeing her in action, Uryu grudgingly acknowledges her skill. He respects her precision and efficiency, but her refusal to reveal her identity bothers him. He wonders if she’s hiding her face due to guilt or shame.

Uryu is fascinated by her hallucination powers. He speculates on the mechanics of her abilities, theorizing that they might work on a spiritual or sensory level far beyond what most Soul Reapers are capable of. (It's not him, it's me. I'm wondering)

While he respects her abilities and the fact that she saved them, Uryu is content to leave her be. He doesn’t trust her fully and would prefer to keep his interactions with her professional.

Kisuke Urahara

Urahara likely already knows of her existence and long-term missions, but he doesn’t let on to the others. He greets her with his usual playful demeanor, testing her patience but secretly observing her closely.

Urahara might subtly prod her about her identity or past, using riddles or humor to catch her off guard. If she doesn’t respond, he just laughs it off and respects her silence.

He’s especially intrigued by her hallucination powers. Urahara wonders how she developed such a unique ability and whether it has any drawbacks. He may even offer to “study” her powers in his lab, much to her disinterest.

While he’s curious, Urahara understands the need for secrecy and doesn’t push her too far. He admires her dedication to her duties and the sacrifices she’s made for her role, perhaps seeing a bit of himself in her.

.

.

.

[sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now]

Ask game here!!! ^^^ (I’m on IPad so it looks like this unfortunately 😭)

(Oh gosh three asks asking me about the same character (I’ll just put them together and answer it as a singular post!))

(Also this turned out way longer than I’ve expected so I’m gonna put a cut here!! To save scrolling time!!)

FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

Probably how open Smitten is with his emotions!!! He feels so so much with his whole heart and I really love how he’s not afraid to share them! He is a really honest and earnest character and I don’t really see him lying in any way (and if he does, he’d probably do a really terrible job at it because of how he wears his heart on his sleeve andnsjsm). I can’t help but feel that his earnestness is something worth admiring!

Oh! And of course of how gentle he can be! Despite his bravado he really knows how to lift someone up with his soft words. He can see how someone is hurting and would attempt to lift them up by reminding them that they are loved and is worth loving. I especially love him in Thorn because of this reason. He’s really just love personified (even if it’s towards his own deterrent (don’t do that Smitten))

Also also! I love the way he speaks! He’s so dramatic with his speech patterns that it gives me the giddiest feeling whenever I hear him speak. His princely flair got me alright… he’s so cute,,,.,,…

AND!!! How he subverts the expectations of how love is a purely good thing!!! Love can hurt really really bad as well as heal!! Both the giver and the receiver!!!! And how he is a representation of using fantasy as a coping mechanism!!! He has a lot!!! Of stuff!!!!

(Ik it said “favourite thing about them (singular)” but I can’t help but give him appreciation by yapping)

LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

(I do have some things to say about that despite you occupying 90% of my brain space Smitten </3 it’s out of love tho I promy…)

To mirror what I’ve said at the beginning, it’s of how self-sacrificing he is. My guy has zero self-preservation and self-love despite being the personification of love and emotion. He would literally die for the one he loves and like,,,, NO!!!! SMITTY!!!! SOME PEOPLE WOULD WANT YOU TO LIVE!!!! FOR THEM!!!! SOME PEOPLE WOULD TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOUR DEVOTION!!!!! DONT DO IT!!!! SHAKING YOU ON THE SHOULDERS /AFF

FAVORITE LINE

He has a lot of great lines tbh sbsnsjs

A lot of them are really good, but I just, can’t remember a lot of them, so I’ll just put down those that I actually remember

“My wrath will echo the depths of my bereavement.”

“If we just showed her the contents of our heart... She'd be happy here." ABSOLUTE CHILLS

“YOU SMARMY ASS”

"By cruelly turning on the Princess on her moment of vulnerability we made ourselves an enemy. But, by mastering our fear and insecurity and handing over our power, we've begun a journey to something so much deeper"

BROtp

Smitten and Skeptic! As well as Smitten and Stubborn!!

The Heart and The Head!! The Grey Brothers have a special place in my heart… They’re like the two people who’s really different from each other but enjoys each other’s company regardless of that difference. They balance each other out rather nicely despite them never meeting each other officially in game: like, Skeptic could teach Smitten to think before he act on his own emotions and be more sceptical of the intentions of other people, while Smitten could encourage Skeptic to feel with his heart! I see Skeptic as the type of person to have a hard time empathising with other people and would rely heavily on his logic to help solve the problem for them instead of simply listening to them (he cares, just doesn’t know how to do it in a way that’s unfamiliar to him/not his nature), so I think having Smitten be there to teach him how to do that would help him greatly. They would probably understand each other in the ending where TLQ kills Shifty’s heart and becomes a god himself, since Skeptic knows what’s it like to not have a grounding presence to catch him (for Smitten it’s the Princess). Him and Cheated would comfort Smitten during those times.

And here’s Beauty and Brawn! Aside from their shared appreciation for the Princess, they are also both really passionate characters who are extremely open with their emotions. Smitten would appreciate Stubborn’s showcase of passion towards the Princess, while Stubborn would see strength and potential in Smitten as an opponent! Stubborn would probably rather head straight ahead towards violence instead of using words like Smitten does, but he likes the guy so what the hell

Stubborn would try to get Smitten to fight him, but Smitten just, doesn’t fight him simply because being violent is really not in his nature (unless Stubborn intentionally gloats him into fighting him)

They would be the duo that hugs and cries together whenever there’s a touching scene playing in a movie

OTP

You already know,,..,,,, (it’s Burned Bridges)

Funnily enough the infamous Burned Grey lines aren’t the reason why I ship them in the first place

It’s the fact that I remembered a line Cold had said about Smitten would one day want the emotions to go away completely despite how strongly those emotions burn at the current moment , and then telling him to trust him on it.

It just. Reveals so much about Cold as a character.

Not only does it imply that Cold isn’t completely emotionless as he oh so often tells us that he is, and that he had felt strong emotions at one point but had chosen to repress them completely due to how much it had hurt him, but it also reveals that he doesn’t seem to hold the same animosity towards Smitten as the other way around (at least, not the level of hatred Smitten holds for him),as he actually gave him advice on the subject matter. He seems to be more amused by Smitten then anything. Burned Grey is a route where Smitten was denied of his purpose with us deciding to kill the Princess, and Cold’s whole thing is about his purpose being denied, and hence the numbing ache in his heart that he desperately wants to fill. So I feel like he would probably understand Smitten in that regard of having his purpose denied. He just, find Smitten’s anger really freaking amusing due to the fact that Smitten is usually really chipper. And also the fact that Anger is the rawest emotion there is.

They would definitely start on rough terms though. With Smitten actually fulfilling his promise on letting Cold feel what he had felt (via hurting Cold) and Cold just becoming more and more interested in how far Smitten would go in his pursuit of vengeance. How far would he go? How low would he stoop? He would love to know, and so he would gloat him more and more and see how he would react.

But knowing Smitten, he would probably get really tired of hurting Cold over and over again. He is. Just not a violent person at heart. His starring chapter two is literally one of the three routes that doesn’t have a chapter one that ends with violence(it technically does but you know what I mean(Damsel, Prisoner, Stranger)). Eventually it would reach a point where he would just tiredly tell Cold off without it ending with violence, and that would make Cold feel surprised about the change in his usual pattern of behaviour. I’d like to think that Cold would be the person to reach Smitten out to soothe him on his hollowness and aimlessness when Smitten would deny him over and over until he eventually lets Cold do his thing (heavily influenced by @pink-november ‘s fic btw) and Smitten coming to a realisation that Cold might not be as emotionless as he thought… and then the two deciding to start over on their relationship and become friends… and then learning that wait, they’re actually quite similar… and then they unknowingly fall for each other for real the more time they spend with each other…. oughhhhh slowburn Burned Bridges my beloved

“Who needs violence when you have love?”

“Who needs love when you’ve mastered yourself?”

Also also, fire and ice, pink and black, pillow and blanket, “hero” and “villain” (but not really), emotional doofus and stoic fella????? ENEMIES TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS SLOWBURN?????? That’s a lot of stuff!!!! (And the comedic whiplash of “GRRRR I HATE YOU!!!!” to them cuddling together is just. Really funny to me ok.)

Again, this ship can either go down an even more toxic route then it already is (yummy toxic yaoi) or it could become something really fluffy and tender. It really depends on what direction the writer wants the ship to go. I’m fine with either though. Both are really fun routes.

NOtp

I don’t really have a NOtp for him tbh,,..,,,,.

RANDOM HEADCANON

I’ve already said this in another post, but I’d like to imagine Smitten would abuse nicknames and name the voices with the positive qualities he sees in them. Also this is a headcanon for the Voices in general, but I’d like to think that he’d struggle acting away from his nature. Much like the Vessels, the Voice’s nature is all they knew. A part of him would always yearn for the presence of the Princess, since she was literally who he was made to love and dote upon. Even though he would feel genuinely happy that TLQ had found his one true love, a part of him would always feel that emptiness She had left behind, and his heart would ache more and more. Broken in Apotheosis had proven that the Voices can in fact grow their perspective and in turn become more complex, so I feel like Smitten would definitely have his own arc as well once the Voices learn to become their own person and not just a singular facet of TLQ (and especially Oppy and Cold but this ain’t about them).

Smitten would be really affectionate with his show of affection (depends on Voice to Voice though!!!! He wouldn’t want to make them feel uncomfortable). If you ask him which showcase of affection his likes most, he would tell you that he loves all shows of affection equally! Love is love and should be showed proud and loud across your heart! He’s the type of guy to casually give platonic smooches on the cheeks (again, depends on Voice to Voice—if the Voice is uncomfortable with smooches, he’d probably just do a handshake or something). He doesn’t really put a line in love. To him, love is just that—love. There is no need to put a line between platonic, familial and romantic love. As long as the parties are comfortable with how that love is expressed, there is no problem!

Also can we all agree he would write the corniest love songs ever?? Thanks (Cold would be amused by him and listens to Smitten perform despite his comment on the corniness of it all ahahahahah anyway)

UNPOPULAR OPINION

I can agree on Smitten not being a d!ck but saying Smitten is completely harmless and lacks any malicious intent is where I have to disagree. I dunno if this is an unpopular opinion though.

Him wanting to hurt someone in the name of love IS malicious intent despite the motivation. And he has proven that can AND will do what he had said that he would do with him literally killing us after we killed Damsel for seemingly no reason. He is love as much as he is emotional.

Also he seems to care more about how you AND the Princess feels more then his own opinions. He reads as a people pleaser to me. He genuinely just wants you and the Princess to be happy, but then that mixing with his own perception that he is supposed to be the knight in shining armour for the Princess makes for a weird complex.

SONG I ASSOCIATE WITH THEM

We Become We, but specifically that one part of the song with HEA Smitten. I do love me some angst.

(Again sorry about the format!!!!!)

Full song: https://youtu.be/hRllUeany_Q?si=AJHdP-dJUHdf-r30

That one part: https://youtu.be/mwnXg6GXCk8?si=G1hzN_EG93ulKAhN

FAVOURITE PICTURE OF THEM

Ohohohohoh I have a couple of those teehee

(I love it when I just draw him like a ball)

[cherryluvrx3]

meat lovers amirite??

Dave Strider x Reader x Karkat Vantas

Chapter 6

[masterlist]

It’s the next day and Dave hadn’t texted me since yesterday. Part of me wanted to ask if I made him uncomfortable with insinuating he was gay (he totally is) but at the same time I didn’t wanna bother him. Or cause another insecure freak out.

Still, I was worried. After all, this is the guy I’m trying to woo and romance, it’d suck if I scared him off already.

I sigh dramatically for the upteenthed time and lean my head on Gamzee’s shoulder.

“Okay! We get it, you’re miserable! We heard you the first sigh.” Terezi complained from her seat across from me at the table we sat.

“And you have yet to ask me what’s wrong! Some friends you are.” I huffed.

“Okay what’s the motherfuckin’ issue?” Gamzee asked not looking up from his phone. I sigh dramatically once again, “ I don’t wanna talk about it.. ” I mutter in faux mysteriousness that they both seem to not care for.

..

…

….

…..

“Okay I’ll tell you! So I know it’s only been one day but I can’t help but feel I bombed that first convo with Dave..” I explain, finally sitting up straight in my seat.

Terezi sighed and rested her head into the palm of her hand. “Hmm.. I can’t help but think you’re being a little…. dramatic ?” She said with a skeptical raised brow.

I gasp, “ Dramatic!? Me ? I would never .” I joke.

“Well, if we bein’ real then yeah. I mean it was just the first motherfuckin’ convo.” Gamzee spoke half paying attention.

“I guess.. But like, I feel like I was being a little dry. I mean Dave’s such a cool guy he’s probably got way cooler people to talk to and I spent a vital first impression on not showing him how cool I am- because I’m totally cool right!? Like way cooler than at first glance right!?” I frantically look between the both of them for validation but receive nothing but judging side eyes.

“You guys can at least feed into my delusions y’know…” I slump into my seat with a pout.

“Well unfortunately for you, I am immensely tired from devious 3 AM activities that I will not name so I have neither the time nor the energy to feed your gluttonous delusions. We have a substitute teacher this period so I am going to take a nap, thank you.” Is all Terezi says before she slips to the floor and lays down, head resting on a bundled up sweater.

I look to Gamzee, he looks to me. We look at each other. As I begin to open my mouth he shakes his head solemnly, no … and slowly goes back to texting who I assume is Tavros.

I sit, dejected and abandoned by these supposed “for lifers.”

I twiddle my thumbs for a bit then drum my fingers on the desk.

Wow, I feel like a loser.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, It’s a text from Dave.

A TEXT FROM DAVE?

I look around expecting some sort of reaction as if either of them are able to see my phone.

I open his message- after waiting a few seconds, to not seem desperate obviously.

Pizza Dave

-sup

-wyd

Me

-Oh nothing just sitting in this chemistry class abandoned by my friends who would rather sleep and text their boyfriend

Pizza Dave

-damn sucks lol

-now ya know how I felt

Me

-Idk bout that chief

-Wouldn’t really call this feeling jealousy ha

-but wyd?

Pizza Dave

-I already said I wasn’t jealous that would be weird

-but I’m in math bored asf

-I know like no one in this class and ain’t really up for making friends with em

-don’t think we’d be able to vibe

-or that they’re open for vibing in the first place

Me

-Oh you don’t have John or Karkat in that class?

-They’re like the only friends of yours that I know tbh

Pizza Dave

-nopee

-I’m in honors math

-cuz I’m soooo smart

-they got regulars math so I’m all alone

-I finished my work already so m just sittin here

-lonely n bored

-n hungry

-got lunch next period

Me

-Oh me too

-School lunches aren’t that good tho

-U be eating that shit bro? 😭

Pizza Dave

-nahh

-ur right

-foods ass

Me

-nah dude don’t lie u be straight gobbling that shit huh

-licking the plate and everything

-own up to it

Pizza Dave

-no seriously 💀

-usually I bring a snack or something to hold me through the school day

-but me and kat r gonna go out to eat lunch

Me

-Whatttt

-Your school lets y’all get lunch from outside?

Pizza Dave

-nah we just sneak out lol

Me

-Damn maybe I should do that

-The lunches here aren’t good either I usually just eat whatever fruit they got

Pizza Dave

-u wanna come?

-we going panda express

-think it’s pretty close to ur school

Me

-Uhhhhhh

I want to go. I want to hang out with him! And Karkat, can’t forget he’s gonna be there too. So it’s not like I can have one on one time with him but maybe it would be better that way? The less awkwardness between us the better.

Pizza Dave

-u scared of getting caught?

Me

-No

I am. A bit.

I mean I’ve only snuck out once with Roxy but we just went to a corner store down the street and back. I guess I can just ask Nepeta to open the door for me at one of the back entrances like last time since she has class on the first floor after lunch again.

Me

-Okay I’ll go

Pizza Dave

-bet

-I’ll let kat know

-he gets fussy with sudden plan changes lol

Me

-Hehe fussy is a cute word

Pizza Dave

-ikr

-bros an absolute cutie patootie

-but yappy

-like a chuhuawa

-chihiuaua

-however tf u spell chiwawa

Me

-Chihuahua

Pizza Dave

-okay big guy so you know words n shit

-I’m in honors math not english for a reason

Me

-Whatevaaaaa

-Byee I’ll see y’all then :p class about to end

Pizza Dave

-bet

I’m so excited I know I’m smiling hard like an idiot but I couldn’t care less. I check my backpack and luckily I have enough money with me to buy my lunch. As I turn my head I notice Gamzee’s been staring at me for some while now.

“Uh..?” “So I’m guessin’ you got some good news lil’ mama?” Gamzee asks, picking up my phone and putting in the password he already knew to snoop through the messages.

“Oh now you care?” I cross my arms and he doesn't respond as he reads the texts.

“I’d say good luck on your date but it looks like you got a third wheel- or maybe you’re the motherfuckin’ third wheel?” He teased and tossed my phone back to me.

“Yeah but I mean Karkat’s cool- Kat is Karkat by the way.” I say and start packing up to go.

“Oh really? Tell the guy I said hi.” Gamzee chuckled as he went over to Terezi, lightly kicking her awake. She shot up and banged her head on the table, grumbling as she stood up and stretched.

“Kay but could you do me a favor and tell everyone else at lunch? I don’t feel like getting a barrage of questions asking where I am.” I laughed as the bell rang and we started to walk out the door.

“hUh..?” Terezi asked, still confused from her brief but deep nap.

“Aight I will- tell ya in a bit.” He told Terezi as he dragged her stumbling body off to the lunchroom.

I quickly ran down the stairs and headed to one of the back entrances of the school that no one really went by.

I did a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear before opening the door as silently as I could and dashing out the door. I ran down the block before stopping, I don’t think the security guards would give chase but if they did, the walk of shame back to school would’ve been so embarrassing I’d just drop dead instead.

I hadn’t been to the Panda Express Dave was talking about so I put in the location in maps to get the directions before heading over and Dave was right, it was pretty close.

I pushed the door open and looked around but they weren’t here yet. I mean, since their school is a little farther from here it’d probably take them a bit longer so I just ordered and waited.

Not long after sitting down I could see them crossing the street, the light about to change and Karkat aggressively shoving an incredibly unconcerned Dave forward so they could hurry and get to the other side. I chuckle to myself as they come in, Karkat complaining.

“Jeez, do you think we have all the time in the world!? Or do you just not care if you become roadkill!?” He yelled.

“A car would never run me over. I’d just stop it with my bare hands like a man.” Dave said as they walked over to where I sat.

“Sup.” He nodded to me coolly

I let out a strangled hi, embarrassing , and Karkat just grumbled a hey to acknowledge my existence before sitting down.

Yeesh, guess he’s still on edge.

But I’ll make sure he warms up to me too!

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

remember when I warned about background ships? gamz x tavros is one of em !!! This chapter still isn't that interesting or long but :p

[draught-of-desire]

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Okay, what now?” Y/N asks while standing next to Cho in front of Cedric’s bed.

“I don’t know, you heard the voice.”

“Yeah , but it didn’t say what to do.”

“Are you sure you weren’t hallucinating?” Cho asks worriedly.

Y/N scoffs. “Whatever, let’s just figure this out by ourselves.”

She nervously looks at Cedric, who still looks good even tho he’s unconscious, then looks back at the herb.

“Maybe.. we should make him eat it?” Y/N requests.

“Are you dumb?”

“No…”

There’s an awkward silence between the two of them.

“I think we should make him smell it, it’s a flower after all.” Cho suggests.

“Yeah I was thinking the same thing..” Y/N hesitates.

Cho gives her a skeptic look. Y/N bends over and holds the flower up to Cedric’s nose. Y/N jumps back up when Cedric snorts.

“Cho, do you think it worked?”

“No you choked him!”

“Oh shoot is he dead?” Y/N panics as she stares at him.

“Y/N you’re such an idiot!” Cho exclaims, and grabs the flower from Y/N’s hand. “Obviously this isn’t working. Maybe we should ask someone for help.”

“And risk getting expelled?” Y/N asks in disbelief.

“Well, we could ask Draco?” She hesitates.

“And why would we ever ask him for help?”

“Because he knows what you’ve done in the woods that night with Cedric. He’s our only hope now.”

“Fine.” Y/N answers, and they sneak into their dormitories, trying to avoid any professors.

The next Saturday morning, Y/N and Cho look for Draco.

“Where could Draco be?” Y/N asks.

“In the Slytherin common room, of course!” Cho exclaims.

The two go to the dungeons to find the Slytherin common room. When they arrive there, they stand still.

“Now what do we do? We don’t know the password!” Y/N says.

“Y/N, be quiet, I can hear someone coming!”

They hide behind a pillar, when a Slytherin girl approaches.

She says the password, but Y/N and Cho can’t hear it.

They go back to the door again.

“Maybe we can just guess the password… Slytherin is all about stuck up purebloods anyway…” Cho says.

The door opens immediately.

“Oh, I guess it was pureblood then,” Y/N says in a surprised way.

They sneak inside, and look around to see if they can find Draco.

“Look, that’s him!” Y/N exclaims.

They approach him, while trying to fit in with the Slytherins.

“What the bloody hell are you two doing here?” Draco asks as he notices them.

“We need your help,” Y/N says. She looks around. “Can we talk somewhere more private?“

Draco sighs. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.” He looks a bit hurt.

“Please, Draco… We need you…”

“Fine! Let’s go outside.”

The three go outside.

“What is it?” He asks them.

Y/N sighs. “Okay I’m just going to get straight to point. Me and Cho sneaked out of detention with the flower so we could save Cedric in the hospital wing.”

“You what?”

“I know it sounds bad but trust me on this one.” Y/N cries.

“I have so many questions” Draco answers, shaking his head.

“Okay so,” Cho says “We think we could bring Cedric back using the flower, because Y/N started hearing voices.”

Draco’s eyes widen.

“Wait do you mean the flower could bring people back from the dead?”

“Cedric is not dead!” Y/N exclaims. She couldn’t bear the thought of him dying. “And we’re not sure of its qualities yet.”

“Are you sure the voices in your head asre just your imagination?”

“Are you saying I’m going mad?” Y/N asks offended.

“Okay that’s beside the point!” Cho snapped. “Draco, can you help us?”

He hesitates. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I don’t think I can.”

Cho and Y/N look down at the ground in disappoint.

“But make sure to let me know if you’ve found what you’re looking for.” and he walks away.

“Now what do we do?” Cho asks.

“Well,” Y/N hesitates. “There’s only one person who would be able to help us.”

[i90o3]

Hair styles

diluc x reader

.diluc’s hairstyles

.Fluff, gn reader

A/N. This is incredibly old but i’m posting it anyway (Idk if i posted this or not but oh well…)

> diluc takes great care of his hair might i start off. he might not get the most expensive hair products, just whatever does the trick!

> His hair just looks so soft and fluffy, people often stare at it, but don’t dare ask to touch it. Not with that scowl on his face all the time /j

> Even tho he takes good care of his hair, he doesn’t actually know how to style it..like usually he just puts it in the normal pony (low and high) and lets his hair down when he sleeps.

> I can see him being kinda skeptical of you wanting to touch his hair?? like he just slowly asks “..why…” when you ask. But he’ll let you touch/comb threw it if you ever asked.

> honestly would be fine putting it in one of those man buns, if he’s working out or at the beach and it’s like boiling hot outside.

You were awake early, which meant watching your lover get ready for the day. You looked up from your book, watching as diluc walked out of the bathroom as his red luscious wet locks cling to his wet skin after a nice hot shower. You can help but stare because, he just looks so ethereal..you can’t help yourself.

He sits down on the right side of the bed, adjusting your position you sit behind him and gently twirl his hair, “your hair is so beautiful, diluc.” you say, watching as a dust of pink creeps up the tip of his ears, and he just hums in acknowledgment to your comment. Combing your fingers threw his hair you speak again, “you should let me style your hair.. How about a braid? or half up half down?” you pause for a second “but whatever hairstyle you wear you’ll still look adorable” you say giggling as your partner coughs in surprise to your comment.

“If you really want to..I guess you could spend some time doing my hair. “ diluc says; your quite shocked, you sit beside him and look at him with an excited expression, “really!?” he nods in response. You quickly jump up and run to the bathroom to get your comb and any other hair supplies you might need to tame his fiery hair.

You finish doing your lovers hair, with a half up and half down look with a couple of loose hairs on the side. (kind of like albedo’s, just without the braid in his hair) You hand diluc the mirror so he can look at his fresh new hair style, “what do you think? pretty, huh?” You say kissing his cheek.

> He takes awhile examining his new hair-do, and boy he loves it! It’s all pretty and it kind of makes him look more approachable

> He’ll turn to you with a smile and thank you with a kiss to your cheek, might even ask if you can style his hair more often.

He places the mirror down and adjusts his body to face you, he places a chaste kiss on your lips before getting up to finally get dressed and head out. “love, would you mind styling my hair more often? If you don’t mind, of course.” he says as he slips his final piece of clothing on. Walking down stairs to see him off and giving him another peck on the cheek before he leaves, “Mhm! I’ll style your hair whenever you want, it’s a win win for us both, after all.” you smirk as he shakes his head and smiles when he walks out the door.

4:06 pm 7/27/2022

[barakittens517]

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. 

[starlessea]

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]

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

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“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.

[jordanstrophe]

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

[twodimecastle]

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.

[butwhyduh]

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.”

[navegandoaciegas]

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! ❤️

[retrievablememories]

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.”

[lenaariewrld]

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.

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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

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