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redstarwriting · 11 months

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the clash | v. ever fallen in love

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 3.1k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, mentions of death, demonic names, mentions of injuries, giving and receiving stitches, geniuses being dumbasses

a/n: these keep getting longer LMAO which is wild too bc i literally had an idea to make this chapter even longer, but i had to end up splitting it up. thank you to everyone who’s reading the series, i appreciate you all more than you will ever know. please enjoy this chapter, the next should be out either late tonight or tomorrow :)

previous chapter: iv. london calling

now reading: v. ever fallen in love

next chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

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It’s been a few months since you’ve become a part of Spider Society, and much to everyone’s disappointment, you and Hobie still hate each other. Even though on any given day the two of you will be seen around each other, you’re always arguing. Yelling. There have been multiple times where the two of you almost fought, but someone always breaks it up before it gets to that point. “Ready to go, Hobie?” Gwen asks, and he scoffs. “Can’t believe ‘m bein’ forced to go to that dickhead’s world by you of all people,” he grumbles, and she rolls her eyes. “C’mon man, we all know that you’ve both been way more irritable towards everyone because you haven’t seen each other in what? Like two days?”

“I’ll be a lot worse when I see them, I can promise ya that, mate,” he snaps and Miles shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, Hobie,” he says as Gwen pulls up the portal to your world. “Are you excited to see them? I haven’t seen you two apart for this long ever, you’re always together,” Pavitr says, side-eying Hobie. He keeps trying to tell Gwen and Miles the two of you only hate each other because you have strong feelings for one another and don’t know how to face them.

“I’m telling you, they’re obsessed with each other,” Pavitr says as he, Gwen, and Miles sit in his home, sipping some chai. “Obsessed with wanting to kill each other maybe, but that’s about it,” Miles says, and Pavitr groans. “No! You’ve got it all wrong! Neither of them knows how to express their feelings and that’s the only reason they act the way they do!” he tries to convince them, but Gwen and Miles just glance at each other. “I don’t know, Pav,” Gwen says. “I picked up on the romantic tension between the two of you immediately, why are you doubting my genius social cue reading now?”

“You need to stop being such a romantic, Pav. The two of them would rather eat glass than be romantically involved in any way,” Gwen responded, but Pavitr was not convinced.

He still isn’t. Hobie laughs. “Excited? You must be mental to think I’d be chuffed to see them,” he responds, and Pavitr sighs. One day. One day he will get Hobie to admit he cares for you.

Gwen was honestly a little nervous for this little meet-up. The two of you had a really bad fight recently, and trying to get the two of you back to talking level seems a little ambitious.

“You what?” he yelled, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m being mentored by Miguel.” Hobie stares at you, not saying anything, with his mouth slightly open before he shakes his head. He’s very angry, but you simply don’t care. “He’s helping me, Hobie. We both have the venomous bite thing, so he’s trying to help me out with it and helping me adjust to–”

“Don’t you dare say adjust to fuckin’ Spider Society like I ain’t been here the whole time.”

“You never necessarily helped, Hobie. Unless you count constantly insulting me and–”

“Nah, don’t gimme that fuckin’ rubbish, (Y/n),” he growls, and you cross your arms. “Why are you so mad about it anyway?” He laughs. “Why am I mad? Seriously?! You’re the right fuckin’ hand of the pitch and toss!”

“The what?” you ask and he groans. “The fuckin’ boss, (Y/n)! The man!”

“So what, Hobart?! In case you forgot you’re a part of this society, you listen to Miguel too!”

“I fuckin’ don’t!”

“You fucking do!” By this point, you’d pulled attention from several other spiders, not only because of the yelling but because their senses were going off. The two of you were too focused on each other to realize they were all ready to pounce on the two of you. “Fuckin’ piss off before I do somethin’ we both regret,” he growls, and you laugh. “Make me.”

The two of you were separated after that and haven’t talked to each other since. Granted, it’s only been two days, but that is long for the two of you, honestly. And it’s been making everyone a target of Hobie’s rude remarks and your cynicism. The two of you need to talk because clearly, not talking just makes the two of you feel worse.

Even though Hobie’s acting like this is the worst thing his friends could possibly do to him, he does kind of sort of miss you. Which he hates. It’s been two days and he’s already missing you? Disgusting. He can’t wait to yell at you about it. He’s able to keep his cool and pretend like he really doesn’t want to go, but in reality, he’s so anxious to see you. “Alright, come on,” Gwen says, motioning for Hobie to enter the portal. He glances around at them. “Makin’ me go first?”

“Can’t have you run off at the last minute,” Gwen says and he sighs. “Whatever,” he says, walking a little too fast into the portal. He only stops when he’s enveloped in a familiar darkness. He feels something brush up against his leg, and he lets go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Good seein’ ya, Shadow,” he says, bending down to give your cat some attention. Shadow headbutts him and he scratches between his ears. Your cat loves Hobie, much to your disdain.

“You hurt him, I kill you,” you said to him the second time he was at your place. He picked up Shadow while you were in your room, and when you came out and saw him holding your baby, you were ready to fight. But you were ready to fight him at any given moment anyways. “I won’t hurt him. He’s much cooler than his owner anyways,” Hobie says, petting his head. You roll your eyes. “Yeah well– wait is he purring?” you say, and Hobie smirks at you. “Looks like he likes me better than his owner too.”

“Shut the fuck up. Shadow!” you call your cat, your voice going from a tone that screams ‘I hate you’ to one that screams ‘I love you.’ Of course, Shadow’s ears perk up and he hops out of Hobie’s arms and right over to yours. You stick your tongue out at Hobie, who rolls his eyes and looks away to cover up the dusting of a smile on his face. “What are you, 12?” he asks, and you scoff. “Can I hold Shadow?” Pavitr asks, and you hand him to him without a second thought. But no matter who you passed him to, he’d either end up in yours or Hobie’s lap.

He's so lost in the memory that he doesn’t even sense you approaching. “So, you decided to actually show up. I’m surprised,” he hears your voice and looks up at you. “Wasn’t exactly by choice, love. If I had it my way, I’d never be in this hellhole again,” he retorts, and you just shake your head and say nothing. That’s strange. You thought for sure you would mention something about him being forced to do something even though he always does what he wants. “What? Have you lost your spitfire after only two days of not talkin’ to me?” he asks, standing. You sigh. “I just… I don’t have the energy to fight today, Hobie. Okay?”

Don’t have the energy? You literally always have the energy to fight with him. Before he can say anything else, Pavitr comes through the portal.

“(Y/n)! How have you been?” he asks, excitedly, hugging you. Hobie doesn’t like that. But what he doesn’t like even more is the slight look of pain that spreads across your face for a split second. He observes silently as you play it off like nothing happened, and Pavitr is none the wiser to it. Gwen and Miles enter shortly after, and the dynamic you all had before yours and Hobie’s attempted murder of each other returns. Except for the constant bickering between you and Hobie. Instead, it’s just a lot of silent glaring, and subtle reactions. “Okay, hold on. What the hell is this?” Miles asks, and you both look at him. “What?” you say at the same time, ending in a side eye to each other. “That! That right there, why aren’t you two threatening to tear each other’s heads off because you said the same thing?” Miles asks, and Hobie shrugs. “I got nothin’ to say to them.”

“Ditto,” you say, and the three of them look at you two like your heads just got cut off. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m havin’ a laugh, mate?” Hobie snaps at Miles and he puts his hands up in surrender. “This… is odd. I can’t recall the last time it was quiet between you two.”

“Because it never was. They always went for each other’s throats like their own lives depended on it,” Pavitr says to Gwen, and you clear your throat. “We’re right here, you know,” you say with a forced grin. “Yeah, care to save the talkin’ bout us til we aren’t around?” Hobie grumbles and the three glance at each other before nodding. “Sorry, you two…” Gwen says, and you shrug. “It’s whatever. Dealt with worse,” you say, and Hobie nods. He glances over at you again. How is no one else noticing how weird you’re acting? Is he the only one who pays attention to you or some shit?

This isn’t the first time he’s picked up on your odd behaviors. Within the time he knew you, he was able to notice your behaviors unlike anyone else.

He wasn’t necessarily looking for you. He’d never go out of his way to look for you in a million years, yet here he was. In your world because you didn’t show up at the allotted time everyone was gonna meet up at in his world. He webbed up to the tallest building, the Ember Stake Building. It resembled that of a wooden stake, except all black and metal instead of wood. Sure enough, you were there. “You’re late.”

You turn and look at him, but don’t say anything. Instead, you just turn away. He frowns. “What’s that all about, then?” he asks, plopping next to you. You sigh. “I think I’m just gonna stay here tonight.”

“What? Why? Because you’re too borin’ to do anythin’ fun? Gotta work late tonight?”

“No. Personal reasons,” you say and he cocks his head to the side. “Such as?”

“Fuck off, Hobie. I’m not telling you.”

“Yes, you are. What’s goin’ on in that empty head of yours?” he asks and you give him an unamused look. “It’s the anniversary of my Uncle Belial’s death,” you mumble. He frowns. “Ah. I see.”

“...Yeah.” The two of you sit in silence, the wind the only noise happening before he sighs. “Well then, you’re definitely comin’ tonight.” He stands. You look at him. “I just said-”

“And I don’t give a shit. Come on, your friends are waitin’ for you. Besides, they can help ya get your mind off of it. Chop-chop.” You ended up going because you were forced to. But you did have a good time. Hobie was right, it helped you get your mind off of things. And maybe you were reading into it, but he seemed just a tad bit nicer to you that night than normal.

And you could tell his.

“And what the hell is your problem today?” you appear behind Hobie who is angrily restringing his guitar in his common room at Spider Society. “Well now you’re a part of it,” he responds. You sit on the floor across from him. “As much as I’m happy just my presence can reduce you to a massive asshole, I don’t think I’m the only reason this time.”

“How could you even tell?”

You shrug. “You busy your mind and hands when you’ve got something on your mind,” you say, and he looks at you. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Didn’t realize you were obsessed with me.”

“You wish,” you say. He sighs. “New group of fascist assholes showed up today,” he begrudgingly opens up and you nod. “Told you so.” He glares at you. “Had to say it,” you say, “But you’ll beat them. You always do.” He glances at you. “And if you can’t, I’ll just take care of it for you.” He laughs, unamused. “I’d like to see you try.”

He’s unsure why so many memories are flooding back to him at this moment in time. The answer is that he’s obsessed with you and Pavitr is right, but we don’t need to talk about that until he realizes it for himself. Maybe not seeing you has made him think about you more for some reason. He shakes his head, rejoining the conversation. Everything goes surprisingly well for the rest of the time you all are together. Unfortunately, Gwen gets a notice that something is happening in her world, and she has to go. Miles follows, and Pavitr is torn between going with them or staying with the two of you to make sure no one gets murdered. Or to see some romantic shit.

“We been behavin’, haven’t we?” Hobie says, a bit relieved they were leaving so he could find out what was up with you. You were close with the others, but even they’ve commented on you two only opening up with each other. “You actually have… and maybe it’d be good to leave them alone. Talk out whatever issues they’re having,” Miles says to Pavitr and Gwen, who look at each other but reluctantly agree. Miles and Pav rush into Gwen’s world before her. “I swear if you two kill each other I’m going to kill both of you,” Gwen says, walking backward into the portal to her world and pointing at the two of you. “We won’t.”

“Probably,” Hobie finishes, and Gwen rolls her eyes before disappearing. There’s a silent tension between the two of you before he speaks up. “What happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

“Don’t play dumb with me, now. What happened?” he pushes, and you frown at him. Shadow leaps up into your lap and nuzzles you. You sigh and gently pet him. Hobie stays silent, watching and waiting. “Just… bad day,” you mumble. “Bad day, how?”

“Bad spider day.” He hums. “That why you looked like Pav stabbed ya after that hug?” You look at him, surprised. “You saw that?”

“Course I did. ‘m not fuckin’ daft,” he responds, and you look at Shadow. “Yeah… it’s nothing, though. Just a few scratches, typical Spider-Person shit,” you say, and he nods. “Let me see, then.”

“What?”

“Let me see.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re lyin’,” he shrugs, and you glare at him. “Have I told you I hated you?”

“Not recently, but yeah.” You glare at him but sigh. “Fuck you, Hobie,” you mumble, but shrug off your oversized cardigan. His eyes widen as he sees deep lacerations and bruises spread across your shoulder and onto your back. He stands up and approaches you without even realizing it. You watch him as he studies your injuries. “Who did this?” His voice sounds darker than you’ve ever heard it. You look away from him. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he responds immediately. You turn your head to look at him again, only to have him staring directly into your eyes. “Prowler,” you mumble, and he frowns. “The worst of the worst in your world,” he whispers to himself, recalling a conversation the two of you had months ago. He glances around. “Where’s your first aid kit?” he asks, and you look at him with a side-eye. “Why?”

“Cause I wanna get high off the painkillers in it, why do you think, you dolt?” he snaps, and you point to your bathroom. “Under the sink.” He gets up and walks into your bathroom, grabs the first aid kit, and walks back out to you on your couch. “Turn round and move a bit,” he says, and you do. He sits behind you, starting to clean and stitch to your injuries up. You wince slightly and he frowns. “Why haven’t you done this yet?”

“I can’t reach back there myself.”

“Then ask someone else to do it.”

“I don’t have anyone to ask anymore.”

“Yes, you do,” he says without missing a beat. You turn your head to say something snarky to him, but he looks at you at the same time. Your faces are closer than the two of you expected, causing you both to quickly look away. You can feel your face burning, and you’re grateful the injuries are mainly on your back and not close to your heart because you don’t want to hear his comments about how fast it’s beating. On an equal note, Hobie’s happy you aren’t looking at him because he has his jaw clenched and swallows hard. His heart is beating just as fast, but he pretends like it’s nothing, just like you. He finishes the stitches, placing bandages over top of them. “Done,” he says, and you mutter a quick ‘thank you’ as he tosses the first aid kit onto your coffee table. “Should be healed by tomorrow,” you mumble, and he nods. “When did that happen?”

“A few hours before you all got here,” you admit, and he frowns. “And you were just gonna pretend nothing happened?”

“Yes. I told you earlier, I’m too tired to deal with any bullshit today, okay?” you confess, and he frowns.

“He get ya that good cause you’re tired?”

“I guess.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno.”

“Stop lyin’ love,” he says, and the nickname you hate oh so much sounds just a little sweeter to you than it should. “Couple days ago.”

“You haven’t slept in two days?” You shake your head, and he sighs. “Go the fuck to sleep. Now.”

“But–”

“Go,” he demands, pointing to your bedroom. You groan, “You’re so fucking annoying,” you mumble, getting up and dragging yourself to your room. “Yeah, yeah whatever,” he says, following you. You flop onto your bed as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Come to tuck me in?”

“You wish,” he watches as Shadow hops up onto your bed, curling up against you. You immediately put your hand on him and pet him. Hobie frowns as he feels a pang of annoyance toward your cat. “Gonna stand there and watch me sleep or something?” your voice pulls him out of his ridiculous thoughts, and he scoffs. “Gonna stand here and make sure you don’t try to get up as soon as I go,” he says, and you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, rolling away from him. He stands there until he’s sure you’re asleep. He glances at Shadow, who is still awake and staring at him. He puts his finger to his lips to say “shh” as he pulls his mask over his head.

He and the Prowler of this world need to have a bit of a chat.

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#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie #spiderpunk #spider-punk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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lnfours · 8 months

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soo i love the idea of friends to lovers so what about where lando and reader have been best friends since they were babies and lando has always been in love with her and tries to like hint and show signs that he likes her but the reader doesn’t notice (but also doesn’t want to hope for it to be that and it’s not ) maybe like everyone knows lando is love but they are kinda confused if the reader loves him back, but the reader does feel the same she just is better at hiding it and assumed lando would never feel the same so hide any signs or tells!

so sorry that’s a lot ahha thank you

i am a slut™️ for friends to lovers!au im currently sobbing

send in some prompts!

“oh c’mon, mate,” max laughed at his best friend, “just tell her how you feel. seriously, what can go wrong?”

lando sighed, ruffling his hair with his hands. ever since he accidentally let it slip that he had a crush on you, max wouldn’t let him live it down. but on the other hand, lando didn’t know how you felt. was there a slight chance you were into him? yeah, sure. but did he know that for a fact? no.

and the fear of embarrassing himself or making things awkward between the two, or worse getting his heart absolutely shattered because you didn’t feel the same way about him? that was enough to make his stomach turn.

“she’s not into me, mate.” lando shook his head.

“you don’t know that, though!” his best friend argued, “i know you’re worried about ruining things between the two of you, but you’ve been in love with her since we were kids.”

meanwhile, ria was playing the same game max was playing with lando, but with you.

“i don’t know, ria,” you sighed, “i just don’t think he’s that into me.”

ria knew better than that. not just because max spilled all the beans about lando being in absolute love with you, but because she had eyes. she saw the way he looked at you, the way his mood would always brighten or how he’d protect you against the playful banter because only he was allowed to make fun of you.

ria rolled her eyes towards you, “you won’t know unless you talk to him!”

she had a point. and you hated when she was right.

later that night, everyone was downstairs carrying on while you were up in your room, trying to distract yourself from thinking about him as you scrolled through your phone. as if he knew you were trying not to think about him, the brunette boy knocked on your cracked open door.

he peeked his head in and smiled when you looked up from your screen, “hey, you alright?”

you swallowed, “yeah, just a bit tired.”

he nodded, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him, “sure you’re just tired?”

you hesitated before you nodded, “mhm,”

“you know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you, “literally anything.”

you took in a deep breath before smiling, “i know, thanks,”

he nodded, running a hand over his face, “can i uhm, talk to you about something?”

you put your phone down, “what’s up?”

his heart was hammering against his chest and he couldn’t look you in the eyes without immediately wanting to wrap you up in his arms and kiss the life out of you, so he lowered his head as he stared at his fingers, “iminlovewithyou.”

everything came out a mumble and rushed, you couldn’t even comprehend what he said, “what’d you say?”

he made the mistake of looking up at you and your soft eyes met his. he licked his lips, ignoring the way his chest was tightening. he swore he was about to pass out, “i uhm, i know you probably don’t feel the same way about me, but im in love with you. and i have been ever since we were kids, i just… have this overwhelming fear of you turning me down, i guess? i dunno, but max practically begged me to finally tell you.”

you blinked at him. he was finally telling you what you wanted to hear after all these years and you didn’t know how to tell him you felt the same. you were speechless.

he took your silence as rejection, “y’know what, never mind, this was stupid,” he got up from his spot on your bed, “fuckin’ max-“

“lando,” you cut him off, standing up with him as you rushed to get in front of him before he could open the door and run away. he huffed, sighing and letting you between him and the door, “sorry, i just. didn’t know what to say or how to say it, but i’m in love with you, too.”

his heart jumped into his throat, but before he could completely go in head first, he just had to make sure, “really? i mean, you’re not just saying that out of pity, right?”

he was scared, and you could tell. you’d be scared if you were giving someone your entire heart and you weren’t sure if they loved you back, “lando, i’ve always been in love with you. it’s always been you.”

and that was all he needed to hear before he was taking a step towards you and cupping your face into his hand as he pressed his lips to yours. you kissed him back, your hands wrapping around his neck, his moving to your waist as he pulled you as close to him as possible.

you both pulled away, breathless and smiling, pupils blown and lips puffy, “i love you.”

his forehead met yours and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, “i love you, too.”

#THIS GOT LONG IM SORRY #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #fluff #formula 1 #f1 #🍾; jordan’s 10k celebration

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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Am I the asshole for giving a random guy my friend's phone number?

(🍫📲 to find later)

I (22 NB/F) was working one day at my place of work by going around and putting various items for sale where they belong in the store, as well as taking out the recycling. As I was making my way up to the front of the store so I could go to break, this older gentleman needed help reaching something. I helped him pull it down, but before I continued I was stopped by this other kid. He had a healthy-looking emo haircut and wardrobe, so I didn't think too much about it at the time. I kid you not, his eyes were big and wide like some kind of bishounen anime (idk if I spelled that right). Literally looked straight out of one almost, he reminded me of an excited puppy too.

"Hello! Do you need help with something?"

"Uh- actually, I was wondering if I could have your Snapchat?"

I was completely gobsmacked.

"Uh- I don't have a snap chat." A lie, but only because my snap is exclusively for my BFFEAE (Best Friend For Ever And Ever). I don't pass it out to my coworkers, family, or any other friends. Just her.

"Can I have your number then?"

Usually guys don't like. Spend this long on me. I'm Demiromantic and Asexual, and for those who don't know, that means I have no interest in having sex with anyone and have no interest in dating anyone but close friends. I never thought I'd be in this situation. Ever. The idea of anyone asking me out of the fucking blue for this is so far out of left field for my expectations that I was just staring awkwardly at him for a moment.

"... unless... age is an issue?"

"Ah- no, I am 22, but I'm just not interested in a relationship right now."

And it's the truth, honestly. My mental health has been a rollercoaster of emotions and schedules that I've been struggling to maintain for months. I did have one at the beginning of the year, but dropped it because I realized I couldn't trust my lover (he was extremely conservative, and I had to hide a lot of my life from him, but it was nice while it lasted honestly. Broke up on good terms).

"That's okay. Maybe we can just hang out sometime or something."

I'll be honest, I haven't been in good health to try a brand new friendship with a complete stranger either (I have horrid social anxiety to the point where I am basically a shit in hermit, and with everything going on in my life I don't think I can handle pushing my anxiety well).

Now, years ago, when me and my BFFEAE first moved to different states, we agreed that we could use each other's phone numbers to give out if we couldn't handle it or just wanted the guy to leave us alone. We have each other permission to pretend to be each other for it, that way they're more likely to listen thinking it's you saying "no thanks" instead of her friend saying "get off her back".

So in the span of ten seconds, because this kid was really sweet and I was still pretty shocked this was even happening, I was giving my friend's number to this sparkly-eyed kid (idk how old he was but I assumed he was younger than me, that's just my natural assumption honestly) and continued on with my work day. I told him a semi-common nickname of mine instead of my actual name bc my name is hard to spell and I didn't feel like putting much time into it.

Of course, immediately after I called my friend up and left her a message saying I passed her to this really sweet kid and to be kind with him (she's a protective mama bear kind of person) but that I simply wasn't interested and didn't have the right mindspace for a new anything.

Fast forward to when I get off work and check in with my friend, she and the kid had been chatting back and forth. Apparently he was into drugs (I have sensory issues and can't handle that kind of thing, so I feel like I've actually dodged a bullet) but was getting along really well with her otherwise. We got chatting about it when I confirmed that I'm not open to hanging out with him and that as long as she's kind and doesn't try to set me up with him or anything, I'm fine with her discussing whatever with him.

"I get it girl, we all get like that for a time. I'll keep it away from ya.

By the way, he thought you gave him a random number. He was SOO excited when I responded as you lol"

I felt absolutely sick and was horrified. I figured he would have been like "sick", but apparently he had been like "FUCK YEAH". I feel horrible for deceiving him like this, but I genuinely am in no spot where I can mentally handle picking up a new friendship, much less a romantic relationship. It doesn't help that he genuinely caught me off guard, and passing him her number was my first response to handling it.

Am I the asshole for doing this?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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kilibaggins · 10 months

Text

Bucky Barnes with a Smaller S/O

bucky barnes x reader headcanons

Summary: I got a request from @mrs-jbuckybarnes to write headcanons on a small/short reader with bucky!

A/N: I am personally plus sized so if any of this comes across as not correct or anything like that, thats why! i tried my best! feel free to request something else if you'd like and reminder to anyone reading this my requests are open just read my pinned posts!

Word Count: 848

okay so FIRST lets get this out of the way he adores you. so much. he's never really loved anything as much as you loves you and that scares him sometimes.

he loves you for your personality so no matter how you looked he wouldn't mind so your size never gets in the way of that

really the only time your size becomes an issue with him is when he's scared he'll hurt you. his metal arm weighs heavy on his thoughts and the idea of hurting you literally gives him nightmares.

when you first started dating he literally avoided ever using that arm because of how scared he was.

after a while, and after you made it clear to him that you weren't afraid of his arm, or him for that matter, it got a little easier.

usually, though you'd have to initiate anything to do with that arm like holding his hand and stuff

he's always scared of hurting people with his arm but with people like steve, or sam, or literally anyone it isn't as scary as with you not only because of your height and size but because he cares so much about you.

now away from the SERIOUS STUFF and more into the OTHER STUFF

he calls you teasing names about your height unless you ask him to stop and you'll do it right back about his height

he'll rest his arms around your shoulders every time you walk

"what? it's comfortable." "you're using me like an arm rest" "okay and? its COMFORTABLE."

once he starts getting comfortable with his metal arm that's the one he usually wraps around you because 1.) it makes him feel better 2.) it means he can outwardly protect you and 3.) it shows everyone who they're really dealing with if they mess with you.

he likes to give you big bear hugs to show how much he loves you even though at first it worried him.

lifts you up a lot.

and I mean a lot.

he wants a hug? UP YOU GO. he wants a kiss? your feet are OFF THE GROUND

he will pick you up and put you on counters while he does stuff

like in the morning when he makes a pot of coffee he'll lift you up and put you on the counter next to him. The others tease him relentlessly for it because it shows how clingy he actually is deep down, the fact he wants you so close to him all the time.

he's always worried about you if you fight

like realistically he knows you can take care of yourself because he's seen you do it but he also knows its possible for you to be overpowered because of your size and that scares him

a lot of people say he gets his "winter soldier" stare back if anyone is at all threatening towards you to the point it scares them. steve told you this once and admitted it worried him in the moment but then bucky had hugged you and he knew everything was fine

his clothes. drown you. and he thinks you're the best thing he has ever seen.

he'll give you his t-shirts to wear and stare at you the entire time you wear it he loves it so much.

HIS HANDS. his hands are. you know how his hands are. they are just. hm. and because of this it's even BETTER that his hands are bigger than yours. he likes to compare the size of his hands to yours all the time. other people ask about it and he gets grumpy.

speaking of that… he gets. protective. and very grumpy if other people mention your size because he knows that when people talk about HIS physical appearance it makes him feel weird. especially with his arm and everything. when people make comments about it he clams up so of course he'd be the same with yours.

"you're so small-" "back off."

he does not stand for any comments being made on you even if they're compliments he just does not like it

even if your friends do it it makes him upset even if you're fine with it

"okay shortie-" "what did you just call them-" "bucky its FINE-"

he just loves you so much and its so hard for him to express it so he does it in the ways he knows how like defending you and lifting you up and calling you little nicknames and holding your HANDS and getting things from high places for you and just everything else he calls you doll but really HES such a doll

i don't know what to end this with but overall he's just super sweet and understands you and your boundaries. he wont go overboard on anything and will listen to you I you don't like something. he'll probably never NOT be defensive and protective of you so if you asked him to stop that'd be a harder thing for him but he'd try at least.

but yeah he just. loves you a lot.

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanons #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #marvel x reader #my fanfic

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orbmanson7 · 9 months

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@intrulogical sent me a Logan Angst prompt!

logan crying in a video whilst offering a solution to something and thomas going "stop crying"

I'm still taking Logan Angst prompts from any word or phrase sent to my ask box!

Asking for clarification had become almost habit for him by now.

"Ah, so you didn't mean that literally then?" Logan steadied his expression after the realization struck him. "I suppose this is why clarification is so useful in these discussions."

"There's nothing to clarify, Specs!" Roman threw his hands up dramatically. "It's not like we were trying to trick you!"

Logan blinked at that response. He hadn't thought they were trying to deceive him with their words, no, but it's not as though they had meant what they said, either. Hence the need for clarification.

He nodded towards Roman, replying,

"I understand that, but--"

"Do you?" Roman instantly cut him off. "Because it seems like it takes a million times for us to explain something to you before you actually get it!"

Oh. So he was bothered by Logan's repeated desire for clarification. The quantity was the issue.

"I believe I understand your concern. While some subjects may take extra consideration, I can assure you, I am trying my best."

"Are you?"

Thomas stared back at him with an unreadable expression. Was it unreadable to everyone else, too, or just him?

"Wh..." He was so shocked to hear Thomas outright doubt him like that, he couldn't even formulate the question he wanted to ask. He tried not to let it show, straightening his stance.

Thomas needed his trust, his confidence.

"Of course I am," he told him.

He just needed to be confident. He didn't need to bring more doubt to the topic at hand, after all.

"Princey kind of has a point, though," Thomas only frowned at him. "We've talked about this before, but you never seem to get it. Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"

"Well, yes, of course," Logan replied as quickly as possible, trying not to sputter over how badly his attempt had just failed. "But it's not as though I have limitless knowledge--"

"Aren't you his language center or whatever it's called?" Virgil piped up. "Isn't this supposed to be your thing?"

"I operate his recognition and use of language, yes," he answered truthfully, "but understanding more than the contextual meaning behind a phrase via facial expression or body language or tone of voice doesn't typically fall to my expertise--"

"Then why are you even doing it?"

"Wh... It... Because it's my job."

He'd never had anyone ask him such a question before, and he wasn't sure there was a better way to answer it.

"And yet," Roman butted in, "you need us to explain what we mean forty times every episode for you to understand? If it's your job, shouldn't you already know how to do that?" He grumbled, crossing his arms. "It's not like I have to relearn how to write every time I have an idea, you know. I already know how to do it. So what's your problem?"

Logan stared. He...wasn't sure there was an adequate answer to that, either. Surely, there was a legitimate reason why pragmatic errors frequented his discussions with others, but if it really was his role to handle that on Thomas' behalf, why was he continuously struggling with it? Why had he not learned about it, held onto that knowledge, and then applied it when the situation arose, just as he had with near everything else?

Why was this different, especially when it so heavily affected his purpose to Thomas?

What was his problem?

Roman laughed.

"What? Cat got your tongue now?"

"...no?" Logan raised an eyebrow, confused. "I still have my tongue and there is no cat to--"

"Logan, seriously, just stop." Thomas held up a hand to stop him. He wasn't even looking at Logan as he spoke. "You're the one always lecturing us about learning stuff but then you don't even understand half of what we're saying unless we spell it out for you!"

Logan bit his lip, willing himself to understand.

"I don't think you'd need to spell anything out, Thomas. I simply ask that you clarify the meaning of--"

"For the love of God, Logan, this is exactly what we're talking about!" Thomas shouted, finally turning to look directly at him.

Logan paused. So this was more of the same, then.

"Ah."

It wasn't just that he was asking too often, it was the matter of his asking at all.

Roman rolled his eyes.

"Boy, and you call me stupid."

"I don't believe I've called you that," Logan responded calmly, then adding, "Today."

Even if it was harsh, at least when he had said that, he meant what he said.

After all, why would someone say something they didn't mean? Wouldn't they want to be understood? To be able to communicate effectively?

When he spoke, he wanted to not only be heard but for others to know what he was trying to convey. Using hidden context served little purpose, and only proved to create massive communication issues like this one.

Logan absently fiddled with the end of his tie.

The others were all looking at him disapprovingly.

He swallowed, but something in his throat felt tight, obstructed. His eyes seemed less focused, slightly blurring around the edges.

He tried to take a proper breath, but it came in shuddering and came back out shaky.

None of these were good signs, at least as far as seeming professional goes.

"Perhaps I have asked for clarification far too often for your liking." Logan paused, expecting to be cut off yet again. When the others didn't respond, he continued, "I merely wish to make sure we're communicating properly, that I'm not misunderstanding your--"

"We shouldn't have to explain it every time!"

And there it was.

Roman and Thomas both began yelling a number of things, but Logan just waited.

Everything they were saying... They were right. Something was definitely wrong here. Logan shouldn't be continuing to struggle if they've all done their part to explain their intention so many times. Why was he still in need of clarification, of assistance? Why hadn't he resolved this on his own already?

He would have to keep trying.

As it quieted down, he turned to Thomas, attempting to hold his gaze without trepidation.

"I... I'll keep trying, then."

"What, so you weren't trying before?" Thomas was so immediately outraged. "How long are we going to have to put up with this?"

"Logan, maybe you just need to try a different way of figuring it out." Patton offered, hands up, placating. "We all know you get stuck in your ways, so maybe just try it our way this time, yeah?"

But doing just that hadn't ended well at all last time. He couldn't have been the only one who remembered that, right? Last time, he was only left confused and ultimately misunderstood by the others when he tried it 'their way'. That couldn't possibly be the solution. No, there had to be something else.

"Well," Logan tried, "I don't know if that would--"

"He's right!" Roman cut in, sounding angry. "You don't even want to get it, do you? Is this an attention thing again??"

Roman moved his arms around in ways that failed to make sense to Logan at all.

"Oh no, Logan needs even more attention now so he has to pretend to be stupid to get even more camera time!"

Logan was completely confused at such a comment. That didn't seem like a fair judge of his conduct at all.

He grimaced,

"I... I would never pretend to--"

"L, it's fine if you're just doing it so you get to talk more," Virgil told him, leaning back casually on the staircase. "I get it, man, but this isn't the way, you know?"

Logan did not 'get it' like Virgil apparently did. Why would someone pretend to not understand something? Why not just be sincere, clarify their confusion so they can get the help they need? What purpose would it serve to lie about it?

"I just..." He wasn't sure how to explain to them that he wasn't pretending without knowing why they thought he was. "That's not... I wouldn't do that--"

"Oh, please." Roman scoffed.

Thomas sighed, putting his face in his hands.

"Logan, the excuses aren't helping, either."

He hadn't meant to bother Thomas with all of this. He was at a loss on what he could do to fix this mess, one he had apparently started all on his own.

He swallowed again, feeling heat begin to rise behind his eyes.

"A-apologies."

Thomas shoved his hands down at his sides. Logan may not have been the best with body language but he could certainly tell his choice to apologize had been the wrong one to make.

Thomas glared at him, something Logan realized he had started to see more often lately. Logan flinched without meaning to, and he couldn't even begin to understand the shiver that had gone through him or what it could possibly mean. His vision blurred.

He could just make out Thomas' expression as it twisted at Logan's knee-jerk reaction, and he suddenly shouted at Logan,

"Ugh, stop crying! Just do better!"

He really hadn't meant to have any overt reaction, but he'd been quite unprepared for this turn of events.

Where had they come up with the idea that he would lie about this? Was this his fault to begin with, for not putting in enough effort to understand, to learn, to improve?

Clearly they had a better understanding than he did, so perhaps they were right. Maybe he was capable of understanding and was simply choosing not to properly learn how to discern the difference in someone's words with how they speak them.

He reached up, removed his glasses, and wiped a palm across his eye, trying to stop the tears that kept flowing. He wasn't entirely sure when he had started crying, either, but now it didn't seem to want to stop.

Thomas was right. Logan had to do better. It was past time he did his job the right way by now, and in the way Thomas wanted above all else.

He put his glasses back on and turned to Thomas, ignoring the last tear escaping down his cheek as he spoke.

"I'll try."

#logan angst #logan sanders #fanfiction #finally something with some dialogue #ooh boy i swear this isn't unsympathetic sides and thomas even if it seems like it #this is genuinely just a very bad reaction to Logan's difficulty with pragmatics #stuff like hyperbole innuendo metaphors irony and sarcasm all change how youre meant to interpret language #so of course logan can understand whats being said but when you change how you say it then it becomes harder for him to understand #when you dont say what you mean you know?#anyway yeah angst fun enjoy #sanders sides #long post #orbs speech bubbles #oh! and i was listening to I'll Try from Peter Pan 2 Return to Neverland when i wrote this #go listen to that and tell me thats not a logan angst song yeah?

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hertzwritings · 2 years

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Kiss with a fist (Dark!August Walker)

A/N: I literally lost track of who asked for what first, so I’m working on a “oooh this might be fun to write today”-basis. Don’t fret, my loves, I’m getting through all prompts and requests as well, mostly because I need the distraction. I am living in HellTM currently. Prompt: Y/N works for CIA, who sends her undercover in the FBI. They, in turn, send her undercover in M16 - who then sends her right back undercover in CIA. Her superior is very confused.

Also also, this is probably going to be my first real Dark!Fic, because it just kind of lends itself perfectly for the idea, I’ve been playing with. Just a warning. It’s probably not as dark as I could make it, but I gotta ease into it 😉

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized drabble, one shot or multichapter fic, with whatever you want in it!

Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine in particular) and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits because I am me, and I have none!

MASTERLIST

PROMPTLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: August Walker x female reader

Contains: Language, coworkers to lovers (or like, boss to lover) smut (18+ MINORS DNI), non-con, degradation, praise, sir-kink, spitting, impact-play, mentions of blood, p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, use of a gun, anal with a gun, mentions of vomit, mentions of necrophilia (sorry, but it’s BRIEF), cream-pie, forced orgasm, forced cream-pie, use of a belt, breath-play, actual choking, gagging and probably more than that

W.C.: 5.022 (whoops)

Kiss with a fist

“You want me to do what?” You asked incredulously, staring with wide eyes at Mr. Walker. He raised his eyebrow and crossed his muscular arms over his chest, his button-down straining dangerously at the seams. “I don’t want, I need you to go undercover in the FBI. We’re sure there’s a mole, and important information might get leaked at any point.” “But… I… I’m new.” You said, sagging slightly in your chair. “I have no experience with being undercover, Mr. Walker.” “Which is why you’re perfect for it.” He sighed and leaned over the desk, his elbows resting on the smooth wood. “Listen to me, you’re amazing at what you do. You’re one of the brightest heads here, and you think quick on your feet. I wouldn’t send you unless I was sure, you would be able to handle it.” You nodded. You weren’t getting out of this one. “Alright.”

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

The FBI was very different to the CIA – there was a lot more hustle and bustle, and you tried to blend in as much as you could, giggling at the water cooler with the other women from the office, trying to get gossip that could actually be beneficial. Lucy, the receptionist, had managed to slip during a coffee-break, talking about an anonymous man, who seemed to slip in and out of the office constantly. It was strange, how little people noticed, because he was a tall and broad man, and she had conspiratorially whispered to you, that it was strange that there always seemed to be a case right after his visits.

“I mean, you’ve never seen his face?” You asked casually, tipping your coffee-cup to your lips. She shook her head. “No, that’s the weird part, right? I mean, he just comes and goes, I’m not even sure he work…” She stopped talking when your “boss”, Mr. Jansen, came over and gestured for you to follow him into the office.

“Y/N, I’m going to need your help. You are very skilled at what you do, and I can appreciate you helping from the office, but I have gotten a tip.” You sat down. Jansen was a no-nonsense kind of man, and you were mentally preparing for whatever he was going to say. He never coddled anyone. “I need you to go undercover in M16. I got a tip that someone from there is trying to bring the internal parts of FBI down, and we need to nip it in the bud.” Again? You were going to be a triple-agent, now? “Sir, I…” “It’s not a question, it’s an order. Pack up, you’re doing double-duty.” “Sir, I just started here, and…” “And you have a glowing review. You got this. Now, get.” You stood and walked to your office, trying to make sense of what the hell was happening. You grabbed your phone and debated calling Mr. Walker, but thought better of it; you were undercover, and you couldn’t afford to blow it now.

M16 was a whole different shit-show. You had been thrown into the middle of some serious office-heat, agents on each other like cats in an alley, and you were surprised any type of work was being done around here. On your first day, you had – unfortunately – to give a sweating, large man a kiss with your fist, when he thought it was smart to put a hand up your skirt. Everybody pretty much got the message after that, and most lewd comments weren’t said to your face, at least.

Not that it mattered to you at all, because you seemed to have stumbled upon something bigger than moles in the organizations – it seemed to run a lot deeper, weaving some dangerous webs. You couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed that whoever did this (or helped) didn’t bother to try and cover their tracks.

It seemed to be some sort of manifesto, that had been hidden under layers of coding, and for now, all you had managed to get deciphered was Lark and Apostoles, which, granted, didn’t give you much to on, but it did lead you down the rabbit hole. It would seem as if there was a larger ploy at work here, and you were beginning to feel uneasy about it.

A late night – after pushing several men away from your desk with the promise of castrating them with a finger, if they didn’t leave – you finally managed to get through, and you were surprised at how much information lay between the many lines of the manifesto, along with several instructions to both the FBI and M16; The Syndicate seemed to be printed along any and everything, and you felt sick to your stomach. John Lark was the name that kept popping up, along with a simple A., who seemed to be the one giving instructions on how to dismantle several areas of the inner workings of the FBI and M16.

It wasn’t a mole, it was several. And they all worked towards the same, common goal: Destroy a third of the world’s population. You had to admit, the way they talked about it both gave you a case of serious ick, but also intrigue. You weren’t really on any rouge sides, nor had you ever wanted to be, but there was something in the way they described the entire thing… It was overwhelming. Haunting. But beautiful, even though you were well aware that it would be impossible to ever get done.

“Y/L/N.” You screwed your eyes shut and turned before opening them, looking at the very angry face of Porter, your “boss”, who was currently tapping her heeled foot to the ground. “Are you alone in the office?” You nodded. She terrified you. “Good.” She walked with brisk steps to your desk and sat down, pointing at the several folders full of your findings. “I see I’m not the only one, who managed to figure out something was off.” You shook your head. “No, ma’am.” She didn’t need to know that you theoretically had been sent by C.I.A and FBI. “I’m glad someone has a bright head. It’s why I trust you to do this.” She sighed. “How long have you worked here?” “Uh, around six months?” You answered. “Would you be comfortable to be in the field?” “I mean, that’s what I was trained for… Do we have an OP, I’m not aware of?” She shook her head. “No, this is very much between only a few people in the office. It needs to be dark.” “Okay…?” Her eyes bored into yours. “Can I trust you?” No. “Of course, ma’am.” “Good. Now, I need an insider on the C.I.A. I need feet on the ground and eyes on the sky in there.” She pointed to the folder in front of you. “I’m sure I’ve found a link between some of the higher ups in there and John Lark.” You gulped. “Uhm, ma’am…” “I know, it sounds crazy, right? But look at this.” She flipped a few pages and pointed to a signature, along with a few lines of instructions. “That is definitely government speech. I can sense it, and we need to dismantle this shit as quickly as we can. Weed the weeds before they grow roots.” You didn’t exactly want to tell her that for weeds to grow, they already had roots. “Okay. What do you need?”

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

Walking back into your real workplace was somewhat unsettling. You had to try and lie your way through why you were back; not that you truly thought it mattered, because nobody would bat an eyelid at you for being back. Well, except Mr. Walker.

“Y/L/N?” Shit. “Hi, Mr. Walker.” He was next to you in two wide strides, brows furrowed and upper lip trembling a little. “What the hell are you doing back here?” In a very unceremonious way, he grabbed a tight hold of your elbow and dragged you to his office, closing and locking the door behind him. “You were supposed to be on intel with the FBI!” You sighed. Time to lie your face off. “FBI sent me on a wild goose chase. I’m sure they’re trying to get the lead buried before I can get to it, and I just needed…” You sighed and rubbed your forehead. “I guess I just needed some sort of normalcy. I think better here.” You said, biting your lip. He stared at you, gesturing for you to sit on the chair in front of his desk. “You came back to think?” You shrugged, sitting down. “I suppose. They’re… Well, it’s a harder job than I expected it to be.” You said – it wasn’t a lie, per se, you were just omitting parts of the truth. In all honesty, at this point, you actually didn’t care who did what, who was behind what, and who or what wanted to blow up a third of the world. You really just wanted to have one damn organization to stick to, thank you very much. He looked at you, clearly searching your face for something – any signs of lies. “What do you know?” He commanded. He stood against his desk, arms crossed, and you realized two things at once; first, that he was very attractive when he was being all demanding and used his “I’m in charge”-voice, and second, that his eyes flickered for a brief second. The smallest of movements, something most – if not all – people would miss.

It was a flicker of fear.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The signature of A, the tall, broad man who kept to the shadows at the FBI, the somewhat familiar wording in the manifesto.

“Not much yet.” You lied trough your teeth. “There’s rumblings about someone going in and out of the high office, but not much more than that. A lot of watercooler-gossip, so far, but not anything of note.” You swallowed thickly, and your eyes fell on his pants, where you saw the gun resting against his hip. Well, that and the other gun.

“Hm.” He tilted his head to the side. “And what does the watercooler-gossip tell you?” “That Lucy is fucking her boss.” You said nonchalantly – you didn’t know how to word anything out without giving yourself up. “Apparently, she got some intel from him about something being coded heavily, but that’s the gist of it.” You saw the way his demeanor changed, even before he moved or talked again; there was an unmistakable shift in him, and it made your stomach drop in fear. He sighed and pushed off from the desk, leaning over you, large, thick and muscular arms trapping you in, as his hands grabbed the sides of the chair.

“Y/N. How about we don’t lie to each other?” he said with a dangerous smile. “Sir, I’m…” “Don’t play with me, little bird.” You choked on your own spit at the nickname. “I’m well aware that you’re an incredibly talented and bright woman. It’s really on me, trying to throw you off by sending you somewhere else, digging for leads that wouldn’t get you anywhere.” You swallowed thickly, fear seeping from your pores. The way he looked at you, completely calm and collected, with a small, dangerous smirk on his lips and eyes lit with rage, sent shivers of fear down your spine. “I should’ve known better. See, my problem with you…” He leaned in a little closer, his face closer to yours. “Is that I like you, little bird. Oh, how I liked watching you look at me all attentive, your back straightening every time I spoke the smallest command.” You couldn’t breathe. “It was so easy for me to control what you looked into, what you saw and what you did, when you were right under my nose. You got a little too close, didn’t you? A few months ago, you stumbled on some very bad information, and you…” He smirked dangerously and almost degrading at you. “You ran straight to me, like I would’ve been able to save it. I had to send you off. I needed you away, so you didn’t screw up more for me.” You swallowed thickly. “Sir, I’m… I won’t…” “No, you won’t.” he pushed away from your chair and his eyes glinted. “Go on, little bird, spread those sweet, little wings.” He nodded at the door behind you. It was instant, the way your body kicked into gear; fight or flight was on the tip of your tongue, you could taste metal as you practically jumped the chair and rushed to the door.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. As soon as your fingers landed on the lock, a strong hand grabbed the back of your neck, pushing you roughly against the door. You exhaled a shaky whimper at the impact; you were well aware that August Walker had killed people with less than a hand on their neck, and for the first time in your life, you were fearful of death. His body pressed against your back, fingers wrapping in your hair and pulling roughly. You were shivering as his torso pressed against you, his breath hot and sticky on your exposed neck. “Oh, sweetheart, why would you think I would make it easy on you?” His lips scraped against your neck, his beard tickling you – you wanted to vomit. “I’m going to make things very hard for you now.” With a single move, he had you turned around, hand still on your neck and in your hair, and he pushed you down to the small sofa in the corner of his office. You grunted when your back hit the sofa, and your head would’ve hit the wall, if he didn’t have a strong grip on you. He slowly, while his eyes were burning into yours, moved his hands until his thick fingers pressed against your throat, cutting off air supply. You tried to struggle against his grip, clawing at his arms, but you were too small, too weak for him to even take notice. His eyes darkened when he took your state in; your hair was coming loose from your bun, your skirt had ridden up on your thighs, your chest heaving, trying to catch your breath, and unshed tears glossed your eyes over. It was a sight to him. “Well… I did have other plans, but I suppose we can make our own fun first.” He mused, his free hand trailing down your body. “Don’t fucking touch me!” You spat breathlessly at him, trying to recoil from his touch. He didn’t take that well. His hand collided with your cheek, the smack echoing in his office, and you felt, more than you heard, the small crunch of your jaw moving slightly out of place. “Don’t test me, you fucking slut. I’m trying to be nice, and that’s how you repay me?” He was seething with rage, and his grip on your throat tightened even more; you gasped, the air leaving your body completely now. He spat at your face, the spit landing on your cheek and nose and he hummed appreciatively at the sight. “There’s a good, little whore.” His thumb caressed your skin, smearing the spit around. You felt the burning of tears in your eyes. “You can cry. I like it when you do.” He said with a dangerous smile, his free hand again moving down your body. You didn’t have a choice, there was nowhere to go, and you wanted to throw up at the feeling of his fingers on you; you ignored the sliver of you that began to respond to him, desperate for your body to shut off. With a flick of his wrist, three buttons on your shirt popped off, and he had a view to your chest. “I always knew I liked you for a reason, Y/N.” You saw black spots float in and out of your vision, and you almost hoped to just pass out. His grip slackened. “Oh no, we can’t have that, can we? You deserve to see, what we’re going to do together, little bird.” You whimpered and tried to clench your thighs together to avoid his fingers dipping in. He chuckled darkly and with the same effort he’d probably use to swat a fly away, he ripped your skirt completely.

You didn’t have the time to react nor say anything, before his large fingers grabbed the thigh highs and tore them down your legs. “So pretty… I should’ve fucking hired you as a secretary, you would have been so much fun to train, wouldn’t you?” he mumbled, mostly to himself, and you realized that this – whatever you had previously hoped or thought – was moving in a direction, that made your hairs stand up. Fuck.

“August, please…” A slap landed on your cheek again, and you groaned at the pain; one more of those, and your jaw would dislocate. “Do not call me that. I am Sir to you. Daddy, if you’re being good.” You whimpered and the tears began flowing freely now, when his strong hands pried your legs open and tore your underwear in half; he wasn’t a patient man, and you had already dragged it out way too much for his liking. He chuckled and his tongue darted out, licking the tears away from your burning cheek. You wanted to recoil from him, but his grip on your throat was a little too tight.

Without warning, he thrusted two thick fingers inside of you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, hoping someone would hear you and help. He began dragging his fingers in and out of you, spitting down on his fingers as they almost left your body to lubricate them. “Scream all you want, darling, nobody comes in here.” Your tears were rolling down your cheeks now, his thick fingers ripping you apart with every thrust. You wanted to hate yourself, your fucking body for slowly warming to him; you felt it, the way you fluttered around his fingers and the ease, he began sliding in and out of you.

“There’s a good, little whore. You’re liking this, aren’t you? Liking being put in your place; just taken however I want to?” he chuckled again and sped up his fingers. You whimpered, your teeth gnashing on your lips to the point, where you could taste blood. His lips found yours, forcefully kissing you and lapping the blood from your lips, while he fucked you relentlessly with his fingers. “I think… Maybe I’m not going to kill you right away, little one. No, I think my friends would love to meet you.” You whimpered at the thought of it – there was so much laced into the words, and you would rather die. “You’re doing so well, just swallowing my fingers with your greedy, little pussy. Jesus, look at you, you’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you?” You didn’t want to like it. You didn’t, but your body was reacting to everything he did and said, and you felt yourself near a high, that terrified you – if he thought you liked this, what else would he do to you? “Don’t think, you fucking whore, don’t worry. You’ll get yours.” He sped up and pressed his thumb roughly against your clit. You didn’t have time to try and stop it.

You came around his fingers with a choked sob of shame, your pussy gushing for him. “Good girl! Look at you, taking orders from me.” He laughed maniacally and pulled his fingers from you, keeping his grip firmly on your throat, while he opened his pants.

“Be good for me, little bird. Knees.” You tried shaking your head, refusing to fucking do anything for him. He groaned in annoyance and pulled you by your throat to the floor, yanking your hair roughly. “Don’t fucking disobey me again.” He said and pulled his cock out from his pants. It was throbbing and the tip was an angry red, already leaking precum. He was big, and you feared that you might actually choke on it. At least you’d have a chance if you bit him. His grip on your hair tightened and forced you to look up at him. “Try to bite me once and I’ll fucking skin you alive.” You swallowed thickly, and you knew the battle was lost even before it started. “Yes, sir.” He grinned. “There’s my good girl.” He lined his cock up with your lips and you slowly opened your mouth, tears still spilling from your eyes at the thought of what was about to happen. His cock slid against your tongue, and he forced himself as deep as he could go, you gagging around his cock. “Fuck, I should’ve done this a long time ago.” You spluttered around him, spit pooling around your lips and slowly dripping from your chin. You tried to pull away from him when he forced himself deeper down your throat. “No. You’ll take what I give you, and you’re going to fucking thank me for it.” He said, a little out of breath. “Look up at me.” You did what he asked, and he growled at the sight, his thumb wiping a stray tear away. You gagged and coughed around his hard, thick cock as he pushed it further down, and you lost all ability to breathe.

He didn’t let you adjust but began to fuck your mouth and throat as if you were nothing but a toy to him. He held you in place while he snapped his hips, and you spluttered again, trying to breathe – he laughed deviously. “Little bird, you’re not getting out of this. You’re going to be my little whore, aren’t you? So easy to…” he grunted and buried his cock deeper in your throat. “So easy to get on your knees, you’ve been fucking waiting for it, haven’t you? Wanted to suck my cock dry, like a good little pet?” He picked up the pace and you almost passed out when he swelled a little in your throat. He grunted and pulled out roughly, spitting in your face. “You should be my fucking lap-dog, darling.” He caressed your face in a gesture that was both way too intimate and shot fear into your veins. He pulled you up to your feet, and bent you over the desk, forcing your ass to stick out enough for your back to begin hurting. “Please, sir, you’re hurting me…” You mumbled, trying to see if there was a shred of humanity left in him. His hand landed on your ass roughly, and you yelped at the pain. “Good.” He hit you again. “See, nosy fucking bitches like you need to be punished, do they not?” You heard the unmistakable sound of a belt being pulled from loops and your face went white. “Please, no, I’m begging…” You didn’t finish your sentence. The belt hit you hard, hard enough for you to instantly feel nausea creep up on you, bile at the top of your throat, and you cried out. He just laughed and repeated the process. You lost track of time, how many times the belt had hit you, and you were vaguely aware of the trickle of warmth that ran down form your ass to the back of your thighs. He hummed and wiped the trickle with a finger, putting it in your mouth; you tasted metal. “Look at you, so obedient already. You’ll just let me spank you until you’re bleeding and not say a word to it?” You felt something cold press against your folds. “God, you really are a fucking whore, aren’t you? So stupid, so easy to convince…” You felt the cold thing press into you and you yelped, trying to move away. Your entire body was in pain.

He grabbed you by the throat again, and stopped moving whatever he had in his hand, inside of you, while he wrapped the belt – streaked with red now – around your throat, pulling it tightly. You gasped and choked, and he continued the onslaught of your pussy.

“God, getting fucked by my loaded gun does something to you, doesn’t it?” He mumbled and your eyes widened as he began fucking you hard with the barrel of his gun. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move or even try to as he fucked you with the gun. Your body was reacting to it, growing wetter by the second. “It would be so fucking easy to kill you like this, you know? I could just…” You heard the gun cock. “Press this once and you’d be dead… I could probably still fuck you until you got too cold and stiff for me.” He pulled the belt again, forcing your head back. “Say thank you, sir, for not killing me right now.” You gasped as he loosened the tightness of the belt. “Fuck you.” You spat. He pulled the gun out of you and held it to your temple, his hard cock pressing against your pussy. “No, little bird, fuck you.” You screamed in pain when he entered you in one, fell thrust, filling you to a point, where it hurt. You were barely breathing, your nails had been broken and bled, while you clawed at the desk.

He fucked you as if he didn’t give a shit. He was rough, the gun steady against your face, his cock filling you up and nudging your cervix. “Fuck, you’re so tight, aren’t you? So tight and wet for me, just ready for me to abuse you, huh?” He snapped his hips and buried himself deeper inside of you – the desk scraped against the floor as he rutted hard against you. Your legs were shaking, and you couldn’t think – everything hurt. “Aw, is my poor, little whore sad? You want to cum, little bird? Just cum on my cock, while I have a gun to your head?” You shook your head. You refused. He chuckled. “Alright.” He sped up, and to your relief, he removed the gun from your head. He was groaning behind you, burying his cock deeply in you over and over, and your relief of the gun being gone was shortlived. You felt spit land on your puckered hole, and you wiggled, trying to get away from him, when he pressed the cold, slightly sticky barrel of his gun to your asshole. “Squirm, and it’ll only be worse.” He threatened, his free hand landing on your ass; you felt the blood trickle again and you screamed in pain, as the gun entered you. He was rough. You didn’t have time to think or adjust as he fucked you with his hard cock and let the barrel of the gun slip inside of your ass, moving it in sync with his cock.

Despite your hate and fear, you felt your pussy flutter around him, the familiar, dull ache behind your clit as your orgasm neared – you were fully sobbing now. “Good girl, fuck, you’re going to cum, aren’t you, love?” He sped up and angled his hips, this time shoving the tip of his cock roughly against your cervix. You were screaming in pain, your body trembling. “Cum, whore. Fucking cum, while I fuck you just like this…” he grunted, and you felt his speed falter for a second. “Cum for me, little bird, fucking make a mess out of me.” You couldn’t hold it back, even if you tried.

You exploded around him, the sounds of your wet slick gushing over his cock filling the room. You gasped for air and reprieve, but he was relentless; his cock was spearing you completely and it felt like you were about to split in two, while the fear of him just pulling the trigger for the hell of it, was ever present in your mind.

You sobbed through your orgasm, and when his lips found your shoulder, you had to bite back vomit.

“Yes, fuck, you feel so fucking good…” Everything felt wrong and painful. His speed was faltering, the rhythm leaving him. “So good, taking my cock so well, baby… Oh, I’m going to get so much use out of you.” He grunted. “You want me to fill you? Make you fill of my cum, get your pregnant so you can’t get away from me? Just… Fuck!” he roared as you began to try and claw at him, desperate to get him out of you. “Oh, yeah, I’m going to make you fucking round with me, darling. Oh, fuck, you need to take it all, like a good little whore…” He fucked you with the gun and his cock so roughly, you thought you were about to die. “Please, please, no… Sir, please…” You begged, but he just laughed and slapped your cheek again. Your jaw rattled.

He came with a strangled cry, pushing his cock and the gun as deep as they could go. You felt ropes of cum warm you and this time, you didn’t hold back. You threw up over his desk, your eyes searing with tears as he fucked his cum deeply inside of you. You were shaking and crying. “Aren’t you a dirty little thing?” he whispered as he pulled himself and the gun out of you, letting you go. You collapsed, your body sliding down from the desk and landing on the floor; you saw blood several places on the floor and your skin. You found his eyes and he cocked an eyebrow, while he wiped the gun down, almost caressing it.

“Now, we can’t have a mess, can we?” You didn’t answer. “I think you best clean that up, Y/N.” He pointed to the pool of vomit. “And then I think we’re going to have so much fun with you.” “We?” Your voice was hoarse, and you couldn’t speak above a whisper.

He squatted in front of you with that dangerous smile on his lips, lifting your face with the gun under your chin. “If you think I’m done with you…” he chuckled. “I have my Apostles, sweet bird.” You paled and he licked his lips. “After that? We’ll see if we need some stress-relief around.”

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xxlovelynovaxx · 1 year

Text

Thinking about something:

I have variable functioning. Using functioning here because that's how I experience it.

In particular, I struggle with both visual and auditory processing. At the best of times, I can watch videos. Unless I am hyperfocused though, I usually have to watch even TV shows in 20 minute chunks. Videos on the internet that are over three minutes? Basically not happening most of the time.

I'd also like to note that my low functioning days can be the upper extent of someone else's given capabilities ever.

I'm going to use a personal example here to make my point.

I NEED video descriptions for videos on bad days. Not "it's more convenient", not "it's helpful", but as in "I literally am INCAPABLE of watching the video and getting ANY of the visual or auditory information out of it". Sure, I can stare at the screen, but there will be crickets chirping in my mind and afterward I could not tell you anything about it's content.

Again, I'd like to emphasize that for some neurodivergent people, this is ALWAYS true.

So why do I bring this up?

I'd like to talk about the curb cut effect within disabled communities, and mind body dualism.

Here's the thing: People often treat the curb cut effect for other disabled people as if it's functionally the same as the curb cut effect for abled people. They act as though if you're not the main group(s) an accessibility tool was designed for, that you don't NEED it, especially if it was designed for a physical disability and you need it for reasons related to neurodivergence.

This I think also stems from both the stigma of neurodivergence as either "high-functioning" neurotypical-passing or completely unable to care for oneself. More even than that, though, I think it stems from the idea that if the issue is in your brain, you are capable of "overcoming" it and doing the thing in question without the accessibility tool. It becomes "if you can function at all, you're high functioning, and if you're high functioning, you're capable of doing the thing".

(As an aside, don't get me STARTED on the whole "you're not who this was intended for and therefore don't need it" thing that sometimes happens even between solely physical disabilities. Just as an example, there are so many different reasons that someone might need a wheelchair other than paralysis (hi! ambulatory wheelchair user here) and some people without paralysis are even still non-ambulatory wheelchair users.)

With video descriptions, I've had people basically say "your eyes work, so the description is just a nice bonus, I NEED it". And I want to scream "my eyes work, but my brain? the part that actually processes and gives meaning to the visual noise around me? fucking DOESN'T". On my worst days I would not be able to get out of the way of a SPEEDING CAR because it would take so long for my brain to recognize it as such and then further label it as a danger and THEN push me to react.

And I'm not going to say "oh, imagine if someone said 'just use [disabled body part], it's POSSIBLE for you to do so'," because I know people absolutely do that. In particular, I'm willing to bet people with low vision/who are legally blind with very limited vision and people who are hard of hearing both (video descriptions also being necessary for D/deaf and HoH folks when the videos themselves are uncaptioned) experience this to the extreme - and even blind with no vision and who are D/deaf do as well - because ableists are ignorant assholes.

My point is that it's not any more okay to do with neurodivergence.

I'd also like to add that even if someone CAN access something without the accommodation, that kind of dismissiveness is still shitty. Yeah, I CAN buy groceries without a mobility aid, but by the time I finish I will be sweating, shaking, about to pass out, in a shit ton of pain especially in my back and the soles of my feet, and will spend the next few days having a POTS and fibro flareup - to the extent that I will not be able to put weight on my feet without it feeling like I'm standing on knives. Even then I can still technically walk, but again, on KNIVES.

And yeah, on good days, I CAN watch the video instead of reading the description, where even other neurodivergent people might not be able to. But I still can't do so without consequences. A three minute video will mean not absorbing part of the information, getting exhausted, and often contributing to overstimulation and potentially leading to a meltdown.

A ten minute video can quite literally use up all my spoons for the day. Keep in mind I already have so few due to executive dysfunction specifically that I struggle with tasks as basic as "starting rice to cook in the rice cooker" and "gathering my meds to take them" and "taking my T" (which I literally haven't done since I finally got it refilled for that reason, despite the crippling* dysphoria) and "doing even the most basic of house cleaning or hygiene tasks such as vacuuming or brushing my teeth".

A video can use all of those spoons and quite honestly then some, leaving me unable to take care of myself. I have not eaten for entire days at a time because I literally am not able to make food due to not having spoons. When it's a choice between putting that effort in to watch a video and, y'know, being able to function at the most basic level, the end result is going to be the same as when I am incapable of watching the video at all: I'm not going to watch it.

That's still major consequences.

But for many people, my being able to do it at all, even some of the time, means I can do it perfectly, always - which you may recognize as just textbook ableism. This not only ignores the times I can't do it at all, but gets extrapolated into "anyone with your same diagnosis can do it" even for those that can't, at all, ever.

The brain is just an organ. There are neurological disabilities that make the brain unable to do certain things just like there are physical disabilities that make the body unable to do certain things (also, not all physical disabilities are even a complete and/or constant inability, some fluctuate or are permanently hard-but-not-technically-impossible, like my pain/grocery example above. Neurodivergence doesn't mean "an ailment of the spiritmind, divorced from the body, and able to be overridden by an effort of will".

So stop being ableist about other disabled people benefitting from, using, and NEEDING a particular accommodation. It's one thing to acknowledge that there are given cases where someone's need is greater, but it's another thing entirely to speak over and erase the people for whom the need is just as great, just because you don't believe them based on the diagnosis they have. Don't make broad, sweeping, and broad generalizations about which DIAGNOSES actually need a given thing, and instead actually listen to and trust PEOPLE when they say they need it as much as you.

*While I think gatekeeping the word is bullshit anyway, I'm physically disabled myself. If you have a problem with me using any form of the word cripple as I see fit, you can suck this crip's salty shriveled nutsack and cry about it.

#as a note the reason I am able to use visual descriptions at all #is because my visual processing is better than my auditory #but also because nonmoving text is SO MUCH EASIER to process than moving video #literally movement is so hard #and videos are EITHER heavy on speaking audio OR with a lot of movement #not to mention color oh my fucking god white text on a grey background is so hugely different from the massive amount of color in videos #I could go on and on #I also don't actually know if video descriptions were intended more for low vision and blindness or for d/Deaf/HoH ppl or both #I included the note though because I think a lot of people assume only the first and don't even realize the second #anyway yeah don't do this

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nirikeehan · 7 months

Text

20 questions for fic writers

thank you @rowanisawriter for the tag!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

*gulp* 60!!! HOW DID THAT HAPPEN???

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

348,147. I repeat the question. (Almost a third is one fic, though.)

3. what fandoms do you write for?

I have written for Dragon Age, the Star Wars sequels, a teensy bit of the Witcher... and I GUESs now an obscure actual play DND podcast no one has heard of 🤷‍♀️

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

The Force's Will (Star Wars sequels, Reylo)

Tactical Maneuvers (Dragon Age, Thalia x Cullen)

Through a Glass, Darkly (Dragon Age, Thalia x Cullen, Thalia x Samson)

Stealing the Light (Star Wars sequels, Reylo)

Forbearance (Dragon Age, Cullen & Dorian)

5. do you respond to comments?

Always!

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Bold of you to assume I finish fics. But among the one-shots Hiraeth (Cullen x Thalia) and Save Me a Dance (Blackwall x Thalia x Cullen love triangle) are sure in the running.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Lmao idk. Maybe License to Lick (Cullen x Thalia)? It's very silly and I was deliberately trying to write fluff. (It's hard!)

8. do you get hate on fics?

Not yet, fingers crossed! I did get a spam comment once about one of my chapters of Through a Glass, Darkly supposedly being AI generated and just laughed. I was like, joke's on you, you WISH AI could come up with shit this weird. I think that was just (ironically) a bot programmed to hit any new updates at a certain point in time, though, because scores of people were getting them at once.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

I guess so. The kind that's often awkward and imperfect, but hopefully still satisfying?

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I wrote a Dragon Age/Witcher crossover exchange fic once where Cassandra Pentaghast kissed Geralt of Rivia. And um, I am currently *checks notes* writing a Dragon Age OC adventure crossover with the DND campaign Curse of Strahd, also featuring at least one character from Curse of Strahd: Twice Bitten, that aforementioned obscure actual play DND podcast. Because Metrion is fucking amazing and there's nO FIC ABOUT THIS SERIES AT ALL AND IT'S MURDEIRNG ME DEAD

I had the idea while high on drugs. Sue me.

(Literally. I wish I could say they were the fun kind but I was prescribed some allergy meds that really FUCKED ME UP for awhile.)

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sort of! Pravinquisition AU is a collaborative series between me and @monocytogenes, but we generally write different fics in the same timeline, not like, one fic together.

14. what’s your all-time favorite ship?

*blank stare* I have to pick one?

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

The Star Wars ones, currently. Once I started running a Star Wars ttrpg campaign, all my SW mojo went toward that, unfortunately.

16. what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, plot-heavy stuff, coming up with weird af canon divergence aus, writing relatable characters and campy villains

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing literally anything

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

hot take maybe but I think there's almost never a good reason to do so. you're basically just othering whatever culture it is you're trying to represent.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

Ironically, Star Wars.......... when I was 10. Unless you count Barbie as a fandom (which, maybe we are now?). Then I was doing that when I was like 7.

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm a broken record when it comes to this, but it's probably A Little Grace, and Some Elegance. Cullen has a near-death experience overdosing on lyrium and then tells Thalia some key backstory between him and Samson via flashback. Started my Cullen & Samson doomed friendship obsession, and is probably some of the whumpiest whump I've ever whumped.

#writing nonsense #tag games

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trashcanwithsprinkles · 1 year

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hello again! it is i, the anon from not quite but nearly exactly a week ago, back again with even more lengthy stuff, if i may be so bold. although at this point i feel almost like it's a full letter, just anonymous and forcefully shoved into a mailbox from seemingly nowhere 💦

aside from me rereading cyanide narwhal the equivalent of maybe three or four times fully in the past week, dear author, your good writing convinced me to fully read one of your other zhongchi fics instead of doing art in my free time, like i wanted to. (there's not been a good uninterrupted free time for it yet, though. i still really want to. however first i'd like my mind to calm down and settle on a few specific ideas instead of looking at the Entire Fic and going "let's draw it" because that,,, in no way is that a starting point, brain,,,,) anyway,

i am not entirely sure where i was going with that train of thought but i must add that, unsurprisingly, your writing certainly did not disappoint. if i may put it this way: i find your writing to be very refreshing and tasty. as long as that doesn't sound weird...? also... i am not really much for shipping, not that i have anything against it; but it really does take some good writing for me to enjoy it, since i don't tend to think about it much myself, so there is also that. (needless to say, i did indeed enjoy it.)

anyway, back to the topic of cyanide narwhal, i do have to ask... what is ajax wearing in his various dreams? considering that they can occur in a few different places, and, well. i assume his outfits would also vary accordingly, at least to some extent. the abyss, the fatui, his parents' house, or some form of liyue- there's quite a significant difference between all of those, so unless the environment doesn't at all affect him in his dreams, i assume his outfit(s) would vary accordingly, to be at least somewhat suitable, if not be copied from the memories themselves (when the dreams are memories, which i get the impression of being a frequent occurrence? *smacks the bad somehow-not-nightmares-but-still-bad-dreams with a stick*). i don't know what to think or which to think is more likely? but i just have to know,, actually i'm curious about how often his outfit varies just in general, too, because that is something i am somewhat uncertain about, but i wanted to carefully search for mentions or at least hints of that before asking about it, and i haven't yet. for why must so many different details be so important to know confidently if i only have a simple wish to draw 😔

also my pov as someone who is something of a perfectionist because i loathe making mistakes on something i care for (read as: literally anything i put effort into, but especially things i very much care for, which includes anything hyperfixation related, and- yeah, you get the idea): *holds head in hands staring at/trying to imagine ajax's heist outfit in the few drawings/descriptions i can find* what does it look like from behind. is it still very similar to a fatui agent's. what extra details or differing details or embellishments. where is it the same. what is different. i can already see some small elements of his normal outfit in game, mostly very clear elements from the delusion phase outfit, and of course a large resemblance in the style to the fatui agent's outfit. i can't get a full full front view either but rear view is the one i have even less of an idea of. side?? side view?? his outfits in general just have so many details that being unable to know fully what specific mix of them is working together is- *pained noises, strongly overthinking every aspect imaginable*

(that isn't meant as a complaint of any sort, i'd manage even if i can't get more references. but for a person who usually struggles to even bother to use references, and that just sounds bad and lazy, because it probably is, but anyway, this is a weird feeling, to search for them so hard with difficulty :'D)

my dear we stand on the exact same boat (on the topic of perfectionism and obsessing over details) and so i both salute you and present you with a probably too overly-complicated answer that i hope will help you;

putting it under the cut to spare everyone's dash;;

Ajax' clothes in his dreams

you are correct in that, generally, if the dream is a memory then yes, he wears an approximation of what he was wearing in that memory, or straight-up the same outfit. if the getup in the memory is intact, like a memory of a normal day at the fatui, then he has the same outfit. but if the getup isn't intact, like- idk, a memory of a dangerous mission where his uniform got kinda torn, then he has an intact verison of the outfit instead. but if it is a memory too distant that the attire of back then wouldn't fit (ie. like a memory from the abyss) then he's wearing whatever he had on upon falling asleep.

so, as an example, in the dream he has of when he got kicked out of his parents' house (when they make snowmen with xiao), he would be wearing his sleeping clothes. this because, in the memory of the dream, ajax was 14 and therefore the clothes he'd had on back then would no longer fit his adult body.

if it is a dream that calls back to no memory in particular, then- whatever goes. i'd say most of the time he'd be wearing whatever he had on upon falling asleep, but some dreams are amalgamations of indistinct memories, and so he could be wearing any other outfit. like a randomizer if given options from his wardrobe.

(while we're on that topic, xiao's clothes in the dreams he enters are generally a variation/something similar to his everyday clothes, as oposed to whatever he fell asleep in. this is because xiao has a degree of control over the dreamscape (though minimal at this stage), and can thus alter how he presents himself – like when he first appeared to ajax as a sort of anemo shade/ghost)

2. do Ajax' outfits vary

yes. but also. i'm- rather embarrassed to admit it, even if i know it's fanfic and therefore not beholden to the level of perfection over minute details that a proper published book ought to be (what with most fanfic posting as it gets written, with little chance to go back and correct mistakes (i know you can, but i feel like i'm cheating everytime i have to do it even though it should be well within my right as the author;;)); but i, uh, may have completely forgotten about ajax' clothes.

so like. he arrives with his heist uniform (i'll get into that one in a bit for your other question dw <3), that i do remember. then he borrows clothes from morax a handful of times. but then guizhong takes him to a tailors? and like- gets him clothes? but for the life of me i cannot remember if i ever got around to writing them actually picking up or making use of those new clothes. like straight-up, i have no idea. it has just left my brain. like i know i could go back and try to find it but honestly? i feel like that's just not as important for the purposes of the story, even if it will forever grate on my consciousness. so, so they get clothes at the tailors, but i do remember it being like- we'll come pick those up once they're done, so ajax carries on using his heist uniform and morax' clothes in alternation. if i remembered to have them pick up the clothes, then he would've worn those only once or twice (i think??) before the whole snezhnaya trip and subsequent celestia spy mission happened. which. has seen him donning nothing but the heist uniform, so. for the past chapters, that's all he's been wearing. he has occasionally worn his hesit uniform but without the intricate coat, which is the same outfit he has in his brithday artwork but like- with black pants.

i apologize about the whole tailor's clothes situation but believe you me i'm more annoyed by it than any of you probably are (i doubt many of you care all that much about such an inconsequential little detail lmao)

3. heist uniform

it is indeed just a fatui pyro agent's attire from the game- but like, only the coat. i'm working under the assumption that our modern fatui don't wear that sort of stuff, even if their uniforms are indeed not as dull as any ordinary soldier's. so like- by comparison, a pyro agent's uniform (from the game - our game, not theirs) would look intricate and ornate. i know ajax has a ceremonial getup, the one from the lasso trailer, but 1) that got revealed as i was already several chapters into the story and 2) i assume that's like- for very formal events, not heists. so,

it's a pyro fatui agent's coat, but the red accents are all shades of black and grey. the back looks exactly the same as the in-game model does, i think. the only major difference that i can think of is that he doesn't wear the hood, and that he has his red scarf on. so like- take tartaglia's model and take the scarf portion apart (front and back), and put it on a pyro agent. that's it.

the clothes under the coat are his delusion design from the bossfight, only the vision at the belt remains the same hydro from his playable model.

so uh- i hope that was helpful? thank you so very much for venturing into another fic of mine, i hope you liked it as well <3

#ily ty <3 <3 <3

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fizzingwizard · 2 years

Text

Recently:

So at the end of last year (school term), my boss came to me and informed me that, this year, some classes would have only two teachers. I teach preschool - all our students are under 3. Our teacher-student ration is supposed to be 1:6. But when I took the job I was told that even if there were fewer than 12 students, we would still always have 3 teachers in a class.

This is CRITICAL because this job is designed around the idea that there will be one foreign teacher and two native speakers. There are way more tasks than can be done by just two people - and that’s WITHOUT factoring in actually supervising the children. Literally, you’d think as a Pre-K teacher, watching the kids would be Task #1, and it is, but only when something goes wrong and management needs someone to blame 😇 of course!! Then they’re all “The safety of the children should come before anything else!”

But any other time, they’re like, “Why haven’t you finished tasks 1-50? Also here are 20 more tasks we’re adding, on top of the additional 20 we gave you this time last quarter, because unless we’re constantly demanding more of you we feel that we as management are redundant 😇😇 you should easily be able to do all this in an 8 hour period with no breaks even though that’s illegal 😇😇😇”

and yeah we’re not getting breaks ^^ when do I sit down? Gee, if I have a 15 min chunk of “prep” and the person taking over my shift is a couple min late, meaning I actually have only 10 min and can’t do anything with it so I might as well just sit and stare at the wall.

By the way, it’s illegal. Our contracts say we get 1 hour prep, 1 hour break every day. It’s not a matter of “Sometimes things are tight and we can’t manage it.” It’s a matter of “Things are so tight EVERY DAY that we can NEVER manage it.” I got this amount of break only once: the beginning of 2020. But I never had it before and never after, and at this point we’re luck to even get 1 hour total which means it’s PREP time and not break time. We don’t even get lunch breaks: we eat with the kids. If you wanna wait till you’re off to eat, have fun eating lunch at 3:30.

Also we are responsible for cleaning the whole school every day, and when do we do that? During our... drum roll.... BREAK time! So now we are cleaning during PREP since we have no BREAK, meaning we have even LESS TIME to prep, meaning we prep during class time whenever we can, which we’re not supposed to do because 1) task no. 1 is watch the kids, and 2) it “looks bad to prospective parents visiting the school” OKAY, WHEN AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IT. WHEN AM I SUPPOSED TO BUY, PREPARE, AND ORGANIZE THE MATERIALS FOR EACH OF OUR STUDENTS TO MAKE THEIR CRAFTS AND DO THEIR SENSORY PLAY. WHEN. WHEN. WHEN.

Also! They rounded us up to pick up the slack from ANOTHER SCHOOL which lost a teacher. So now me and my coworkers are taking turns doing an our overtime twice a week at a completely different school. We get paid for that hour at least, but alright, it’s too much to get into but basically it’s teaching a class with no format and no lesson plan at all. Weird enough if you’re the one in charge, but with that divided up among four different teachers it’s like... seriously just cancel the class until a new teacher can be found. If you don’t have a sub and have to foist it on a totally different school which is already full of overworked, understaffed teachers, CANCEL IT. Are the students learning anything?? I have no idea. I am sure that I’ll get an earful from management if they complain though!

Why doesn’t the school cancel it? THEY DON’T WANT TO REFUND THE PARENTS OF COURSE. They don’t want to refund them for the class where their kids aren’t learning anything, because the teachers 1) weren’t trained to teach them, 2) have more than enough of their own shit to do (I already teach multiple classes at my own school and don’t have enough time to prep for those!) and 3) are used to teaching 2 year olds, NOT 10 YEAR OLDS.

Anyway! I’m ranting about that 2 teacher thing. Because when my boss told me, at the end of the year, I said, “I don’t want that. Don’t put me in a class with only 2 teachers.” Of course I don’t have the clout to demand it, but because I teach 2-3s, that means I already knew more or less how many kids I’d have because of the number of kids in the 1-2s class. So I did end up getting 3 teachers because of the 1:6 ratio: we are over 12 kids and here it is illegal to have fewer than 3 teachers in that situation.

But the 1-2s had no such guarantee because it was all dependent on how many students signed up, which management can of course control. So they started the year with less than 12 kids and just 2 teachers. In terms of ratio it’s fine. Let me tell you. Pre-K teacher-student ratios are STUPID. Out of this galaxy stupid! These teachers have worked so hard, picked up so much slack, again with no breaks!!! They really, really care about their kids and go above and beyond to the point that we have had very few incidents (child injuries etc) and nothing major. (We are also rather lucky in this year’s group bc normally we have kids who bite and hit but for some reason this year we don’t have any aggressive types. But that is just a fluke, a fluke we’re very grateful for!! but it’s totally typical of this age for some kids to bite and scratch bc they can’t talk and communicate in any other way.)

So they care and work so hard and management just keeps adding new students. And these kids are YOUNG and need everything done for them. My kids are 2-3, a little more independent, and even WE struggle. We have 3 teachers like I said, but because of the crazy situation, one of us is often sent away to help the 1-2s, so I have taught a lot this year with just 2 teachers like I told my boss I did NOT want to happen. It is STRESSFUL. We have TOO MUCH to do. If our tasks during the day were decreased, so that we could let one teacher watch the kids and one teacher take care of classroom tasks, then I wouldn’t care so much. But despite the number of teachers decreasing, the task load has only gone UP. It is IMPOSSIBLE to watch the kids and get everything done.

In the beginning of the year I had three kids with issues. One was out of control due to a very difficult family situation. This kid had zero stability and the only thing he wanted to do was run around and bash into things. Toys didn’t interest him, books didn’t interest him, I’m not even sure if cartoons could keep his attention because it just wasn’t there. He needed a teacher with him all the time.

Kid number two is the easiest because he is only difficult when he has tantrums. If you can calm him down, he’s alright. His problem is that he needs everything to be THIS WAY and canNOT handle it being THAT WAY. Which in a room with 13 other kids who all have differing needs is NOT doable, but he is two and can’t be expected to understand that. He used to run as well, but he has since grown used to us and our routine and gotten better. Currently he’s regressed though and we’re dealing with that all over again.

Kid number three was HUGE for a two year old and AGGRESSIVE. He attacked any other kid provoked or not (he imagined they were provoking him by existing nearby, basically). I am not exaggerating at all when I say he would try to attack another child, or sometimes a teacher, every five minutes. He 100% needed a teacher with him simply to calm him down and prevent him from hurting people.

So. Three teachers, 14 kids (last year, btw, we had 18! 😇). Two kids who need one teacher’s full attention 100% of the time, one kid who needs a teacher’s full attention half of the time - and 11 other kids who, while normally doing okay, are also only 2-3 and have 2-3 yo needs and get tired and cranky and need hugs and help learning how to share toys...

HOW WERE WE SUPPOSED TO DO IT?? And if WE couldn’t do it, how are the two teachers with the 1-2 yos supposed to even begin to do it?

And on top of that: all those classroom tasks I mentioned! Who’s going to do THEM?

Do you know how my class got by? Well, kid one and kid three ending up LEAVING THE SCHOOL! That’s how! Kid one left for home reasons. Like I said, his home situation was awful and all I can do is pray that things got better thanks to this change. He was very difficult for us to handle, but we would never blame him or any child for that. It was obviously the result of having no home stability. (To be clear, we never suspected abuse of any kind. The circumstances were more out of people’s hands. Deaths in the family etc and the kid being sent from one relative to the other and custody battles. Of course if we suspected abuse we wouldn’t have said nothing.) So we are sad to lose him and hope he goes on to a wonderful life. But, yes, the class is much easier without him.

And kid number three left because, when we tried to talk about ways to help him deal with his constant aggressive behavior with his parents, they flipped out. At first they seemed receptive, but you know, parents are very sensitive and feel that any discussion of their child’s behavior is us pointing our finger at them and saying they’re bad parents. Mom took the kid to a specialist who said that he has a delay of some sort, but he’s too young to say what it is specifically, and that all we can do is what we are already doing (watching him like a hawk). Mom tried to work with us, but then dad got involved, and suddenly both parents didn’t like anything the specialist said and didn’t want anything to do with us. When the situation in our class didn’t change (amazing how doing nothing leads to... nothing!), they decided to switch their kid to another school. Well, all the best to him. We have not heard boo from them since. My class calmed down SIGNIFICANTLY as a result of this kid leaving because before, we never had time to focus on any of the other kids. It was always simply “Watch Kid 3, watch kid 3, negotiate with kid 3, take kid 3 outside to calm down, give kid 3 as much special attention as possible because the minute you even look at other child he will start attacking someone.” I told my adviser I felt like I didn’t even know who the other kids in my class were.

So my class is doing as well as it is because we sometimes have 3 teachers and we no longer have 2 out of our 3 difficult students. If we still had all three of those kids, what would things be like now?

Because here’s what’s going on: those 1-2 yo classes with two teachers each? Well, one of them had a teacher who constantly called out sick. At first it was a few times a month. Then it was at least once a week. Then it got to a point where she was only showing up maybe two days each week. It’s medical circumstances so I don’t know the details. I don’t doubt that she’s sick or blame her for needing time to recover. That is life, getting sick isn’t anyone’s fault, and it’s impossible to do our very physical, on your feet all day, no down time at all job if you’re in constant pain. The problem isn’t the sick teacher: the problem is the management WHICH DID NOTHING TO REPLACE HER. NO-THING.

Instead of sending a sub when she was out, or negotiating for her to stay home long term and give us a long term sub in her classroom, management did NOTHING and let US, the already critically overworked staff with no breaks, who area already picking up slack for that other school, pick up the slack for this teacher as well. Me and my coworkers were just rotating days leaving our own classes to take care of hers. (So I didn’t have 3 teachers most of the time, is the effect.) Sometimes you’ve have Teacher A help for one hour, then Teacher B for 30 min, then teacher C... or maybe an admin with no teacher training!

That class has one other teacher who’s been with them all year, and she is a saint in my eyes, because she has basically had to do EVERYTHING: all the craft prep, all the activity planning, all the communication with parents. It’s ALL on her. The sick teacher wasn’t in enough to help, and subs can’t take over those things. She finally, FINALLY broke down about it last week. I told my leader, if it were me, I’d have broken down months ago.

Management’s response? Well, her class is FINALLY getting that sub... except, they don’t have a sub, for some reason. IDK why, other schools do! In fact, one sub’s home base IS our school, and yet instead of letting her stay here, they send her to other schools... IDK man I really don’t know!!! So since there are no subs, two teachers are tagteaming to help this class. At least it’s no longer one of us, but it’s still far from ideal, because the regular class teacher still has do all the prep herself. But at least she’s getting slightly more consistent help??

And THEN. Here is where things really fall apart.

Remember we started this year with 2 teachers fewer than usual. Now, the sick teacher is not coming at all anymore until she recovers, which is expected to take months. So that’s minus one more. Then one of my coworkers got covid, so she has no choice but to quarantine for 10 days. We have one new teacher in the second 1-2 yo room, but that’s because they now have 15 students, many of whom are new and need tons and tons and tons of help. We have the sub in the other room, but sometimes they only stay for actual class time, ie, not morning or after care, so we can’t rely on their help during those times.

So basically this week we are down FOUR TEACHERS. Plus - before any of this happen there were teachers who requested to take this Friday off. It’s a popular time to use PTO because today, Thurs, is a national holiday. They requested this day before any of this shit hit the fan and were given permission. So actually. Guess what. We are down not four... but SEVEN TEACHERS tomorrow. And guess what else... we can’t make the 1:6 ratio no matter how hard we try!!!

We are getting some help from another school... or we WERE... because at least one of THOSE teachers coming to help just came down with covid and can no longer come! X’D hit me with a hammer!!!!! please!!!!

Not only did we spend this week trading teachers from room to room like we have been all year, but I have to keep sending my own students to other classrooms just to make ratio. I HATE doing it. We try to only send kids who won’t have trouble adjusting. Some kids feel separation anxiety or maybe that being sent to another class is a punishment, so we never force any kid to leave. There’s usually a kid who is very easygoing and will just see it as a fun field trip. That’s the kid we send. But it still sucks, just personally for me because I like my class and love all my kids and want them together.

But more relevantly, it sucks because we’re in a situation this Friday where like I said, we don’t have enough help, so kids in MULTIPLE CLASSES will be playing musical classrooms just to make ratio. It’s bad enough when just one kid has to move to another room. Multiple is a recipe for a disaster. All my childcare instincts are against it. When you shake things up like this, especially in an environment like ours where routine is what keeps things going, you are taking MASSIVE RISKS with child safety. We all know about the kids with allergies or medical issues in each class - but of course the classroom teacher naturally has the most PRESENT knowledge about their own students. It is dangerous to be sending kids around to different rooms and switching things up - we had a situation once where there were kids in the room who weren’t usually and therefore weren’t on the snack checklist - meaning we could easily have given snack to a child with an allergy to the snack! Of course we noticed and got it sorted before giving the kids food. But imagine if we were all new teachers just learning the ropes. And even with us being experienced, this meant our timing was backed up 10 min... and we DO NOT HAVE WIGGLE ROOM.

Why don’t Pre-K classes have built in wiggle room, you ask? SEARCH ME. Seems to me to be an obvious necessity when kids are this young, needy, and unpredictable... but I guess nope!

And allergies/dangers aside. It’s so much easier to misplace a water bottle, a kid’s bag, or accidentally send two kids home wearing each other’s pants, or any of the myriad other situations that occasionally happen even when things are relatively normal just because teachers are tired or communication broke down etc. Now you want to throw everything in the blender as well. That kind of things is WAY more likely to happen if you do that.

And bottom line. This year we have had very few incidents. Not even sending kids home in each other’s pants :P Do you know why? It’s because my coworker are rock stars. Even the new ones have been exceptionally hard workers for being new. We all care so, so much about these kids and want them to feel none of the stress that their teachers are in. Why do I keep at this job despite everything? I seriously love my kids and I enjoy what I do. I don’t expect perfection, I know most every job has annoying management and an overload of tasks - that’s one reason I don’t try to switch bc I imagine I’ll have a lot of the same but minus the hugs from my kids and getting to do adorable crafts with them. That being said, it has gotten unreasonable. There’s expecting too much of people and then there’s expecting the impossible. I can’t even cover the required material in my lesson plan. I don’t have time. I don’t have money because they cut our stipend for materials. I don’t have anything. Actually, this year in particular, we’ve been short on: diapers, disinfectant, wet wipes, paper towels, EVEN BOTTLED WATER. i don’t know the reason. It’s just been that way all year. It may have to do with our new school manager, who is nice, but new, and basically learning by trial by fire. I feel bad for her. I like her but yeah, having a brand new school manager has not helped the disaster that is this entire year.

But what I mean to say is we are only doing as well as we are because we are working our asses off and helping each other and doing our best to stay positive. There have been a couple tiffs between teachers especially recently. I told my coworker, it’s not because the teachers are unreasonable, it’s because they have been under so much stress that they’re finally blowing their lids. That’s why this happened. Because I know all these people and have seen them in stressful situations before and they don’t lose it. They don’t argue. We figure it out. This is not a pattern of getting angry, it’s an exception. Exceptions should be noted AS AN EXCEPTION. What caused it? Shitty policies, reduction of resources and staff, no one listening to us asking for help. So we end up with no one to rely on but each other - but we’re all only human and can only do so much and can only take so much.

What I don’t understand is why we can’t do the obvious to fix things. At least it seems obvious to me! First, stop taking new students. Yeah, the school needs money, I get it, fuck off. The school should have planned better. Also neither us teachers nor our students are seeing any of that money. So no more new kids. Two, we should have fewer tasks during the day. Anything that isn’t essential should be cut for now. We can bring it back some day when we have a full staff. That should mean 1-2s don’t need to “gargle” after lunch (Idk but Japan is obsessed with gargling. It is the key to Never Ever Getting Sick. Well, our kids still get sick plenty, and also they manly just drink the sink water. Idk how a 1 yo is supposed to gargle.) If the 1 yo teachers didn’t have to bring them all two by two to gargle, that would free up so much time for them after lunch. I would like do to the same with me 2-3s, but they are also potty training, so I do have to bring them to the bathroom anyway, so they might as well gargle and brush teeth while they’re waiting for the other kids. Three: less paperwork. Yeah, like management will ever agree to that lol! But seriously, enough with the bilingual newsletters and emails and posters and all the other things we have to do constantly and get translated and then proof-read and then signed off before we can post them. They take so, so much time and we only have so many computers (they used to be SUPER SLOW but this year got replaced by new ones that are fast which THANK HEAVEN FOR THAT.) Other things: we don’t need to do all the cleaning we do every day. Mop the floor should be once a week. Gathering garbage: each class should gather its own and garbage duty should be divided so two teachers can do it in half the time.

Admittedly these changes wouldn’t help all that much, but they’d be something. Since we don’t have enough people, that means we are doing each other’s cleaning on top of our own too. Which means even less prep/break time. Basically, it means that the schedule might say you have 1 hour and 15 min non-consecutive break/prep time, but since you spend 30 min cleaning, it’s actually only 45 min.

like my dude, I don’t sit down between 7:30-3 pm most days these days. I’m up and down and standing and squatting and running and carrying kids and going up and down stairs and carrying lunch and cleaning up and mopping and chasing the escaped 1 yo down the hall and getting punched in the nose by a kid throwing a tantrum (one threw my glasses across the floor the other day lol) but I am NOT sitting even for five min.

And I still have a better situation than some of my coworkers.

I can’t even express the level of exhaustion right now. We just got told that we will be able to say what we want to management at the end of November. Well, I’ll say something, fat lot of good it will do. More likely I’ll be seen as someone who can’t cooperate with others and a complainer. Like I don’t bite my tongue and cooperate over and beyond every single day.

Every year I wonder if this will be my last year at this job, but there are so many factors to consider. The main one is, if I leave this job, but want to stay in Japan, where will I go? Because I can’t do eikaiwa again. I fucking hated it. And I don’t want to be an ALT again. After having my own class, I can’t imagine teaching in any other way, but especially not as an assistant to someone else, unless we were very, VERY collaborative and not restricted to lessons in some crappy English textbook.

My thought is my only option will be to go back to school and get a Master’s so I can teach elementary school here. By the way, what is a bachelor’s degree for? Seems to be worth literally nothing. You should skip bachelor’s and go straight to Master’s these days, lmao. But I just paid off my debt from undergrad and am very, very loathe to take on more when I have so little in savings. Like, my savings suck. I have saved up more by Not Going Home To The US, but uh, I would like to see my family again some day, you know?

also the yen freaking tanked so right now if I told you what my salary is in US money... you’d be like “go make more at mcdonalds” bahahaha

well I’m glad I ranted here so my poor boyfriend will hopefully not have to put up with it. He’s so nice and always listens but boy can I talk when I get started, especially when I’m this frustrated. So I feel bad doing it. Same thing when I call my mom. But I’m so like, I just can’t deal with it all by myself, I gotta tell someone, but I feel like they’re probably annoyed just hearing about how tough things are. Things are tough for everyone, Fizz.

There are good things too, though, so I’m gonna rant here and try to be more upbeat on phone calls.

Just gotta get through November and then I have a break. It’s a terribly, terribly busy November and I cry just thinking of it. But yeah. Then there’s a good long break till January. I’m going to do so much sleeping x’D

#fizz's life #ranting about work long and boring

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hqmillioncorn · 1 year

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Lalapril 4/3: Affection

“There he goes again! He’s so in love! As if lightning struck him from above! I LoOOooOve you my hero~! You are my trUuUE LooOoveeeE~! Butter won’t you stop your silly dreaming please?!”

Butter took in a long and heavy sigh.

The foyer was completely empty except for him and Cinnamon who was sitting silently on the coffee table in front of him, munching on a regular sized strawberry wafer cookie.

She had been watching Butter as he did his moping thing, hoping that he would be able to snap himself out of his funk on his own.

Cinnamon was sure that Butter’s current mood was the result of what happened when everyone had left from Limsa Lominsa. She hadn’t seen it herself but Butter made sure to tell her and Pancake that Babycorn had waved him off personally from the boat.

As if that hadn’t been enough Babycorn had also apparently told Butter something along the lines of, ‘Take care! I’ll miss you Butter!’ It was specifically being called by name that sent Butter cartwheeling off the docks while giggling.

Having to be fished out of the ocean aside, Cinnamon expected Butter to be in an even better mood than usual for at least the next few weeks.

Instead, he collapsed into a pile of sadness the moment he stepped back into the mansion.

Since then, Butter had been sighing to himself in different parts of the house. Pancake assumed it was just his usual romantic yearning and left him on his own to hang out with Linnet and the others.

Cinnamon stayed behind (not because she didn’t have anyone to hang out with or anything!) and watched Butter brood around the mansion. At some point Butter had grabbed the blue rose Babycorn had given him and twirled it around by the stem in one hand while also wistfully staring out a window.

Cinnamon couldn't believe it had come to this.

She set her regular sized wafer cookie down and flew over to where Butter sat.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but could you be any less in love?” Cinnamon feared that the next thing after this would be Butter going to stand at the docks every morning just in case Babycorn came back that day.

“...Huh?” Butter looked up at her, “Sorry Cinnamon. I’m just…” There was another looooong sigh from him and Cinnamon could feel her mental fortitude breaking down.

Cinnamon flew in a circle around Butter’s head, playfully tapping him on the forehead. “Hellooo?! You should be happy that Babycorn said goodbye to you!! She didn’t say goodbye to anyone else!”

Granted many of those that Babycorn would call her good friends were actually going on the trip with her so there would be no need for her to wave goodbye to them but that was besides the point.

“I am happy!” Butter blushed, a dumb smile on his face, “Like super duper happy…”

“Then what’s going on?” Cinnamon was literally out of ideas of what could be going on with him.

“I’m just thinking…What if Babycorn isn’t into guys like me?”

“Guys like…you?” Cinnamon was a little lost.

“You know!”

Cinnamon looked him up and down. “No I don’t know.” She raised one of her sleeves up to her chin to think. “Do you mean she doesn’t like guys with pointy hair? That would make her kind of a hypocrite. Since her hair is plenty pointy.”

“Noooo! I’m not talking about my hair!”

Though Butter had said that it still didn’t stop him from tugging on one of the spikiest parts of his hair.

“That’s not what I meant…I meant…” Butter let out another lovesick sigh while still tugging at his hair spike, “I meant-I’m pretty short aren’t I?”

Cinnamon’s wings froze in shock for a few seconds.”Whaaaaat?? No! Of course you’re not short I mean-! Look at you! You’re taller than me!”

“That’s true but…” Butter sat back down on the couch, putting the blue rose back into its vase. “I might be taller than you but it doesn’t really matter unless I’m taller than Hildibrand.”

Butter probably hadn’t really noticed it but the way he had said the inspector's name had carried a lot more venom to it than Cinnamon, let alone anybody else, had heard his voice carry.

He let out another long sigh. “...Or as cool as him. Or stronger than him. Or more handsome than him……” Butter kept on listing more and more traits that Babycorn had told him about Hildibrand over the years. As every time Babycorn had come back from an adventure with the Inspector she would rush over to Butter with all the details.

Cinnamon couldn’t bear to watch this anymore. Something had to be done.

“Wait here! I’ll be back in a bit!!” Cinnamon waved her sleeve at Butter to get his attention.

Then, in a flash Cinnamon had flown away and then flown back. She was carrying a large sheet of paper. Its weight was clearly causing Cinnamon some distress, judging from the way she was quickly flying lower and lower to the ground. So Butter swooped in from the couch to give her some much needed help she would never admit she needed.

After regaining the composure she never lost (allegedly) Cinnamon flew in between Butter and the paper, sitting herself down on his left hand.

“What you’re looking at right now, my dear Butter, is the handiwork of me and Pancake’s hard work!” Cinnamon smirked and stayed confidently silent while Butter looked at the piece of paper in his hands.

What he was holding looked to be some sort of chart with several names and drawings of people.

Most of them were people that Butter recognized.

He also recognized Pancake’s writing right away and it was clear that this project must have been done more than a few years ago. Butter knew that she had recently started writing her letters with a bit more flair than she used to.

Butter would have to compliment Pancake on her improvement next time he saw her.

Butter’s good mood came to a dead halt when he recognized Hildibrand’s face on the chart. His face made a sort of grimace that Cinnamon instantly caught on to. Hildibrand was about the only thing that made Butter upset nowadays.

Not even his own neglectful parents got this much of a rise out of him.

“Don’t worry your little lovesick heart Butter! Hildibrand is the reason me and Pancake made this chart!”

“You made it for him?!” Butter sounded distraught.

“Wha-? No!!” Cinnamon angrily flapped her wings, they glowed a little bit more red than usual. “We made this to combat anyone that got in the way of you finally dating Babycorn!!”

“Oh!” Butter was almost speechless. “That’s really sweet of you two…”

“See over here?” Cinnamon flew over and pointed at a quickly drawn picture of Raya-o-Senna. “There was a rumor that Babycorn had a little thing for her once. So we wrote down that while it could work she’s a pretty low level threat because they don’t see each other too often.”

“What what-?”

Butter caught sight of a drawing of Hildibrand, because of course he would be on here. Why wouldn’t he be?

“Why does it say ‘will be eliminated’ under this drawing of Hildibrand?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Under him was a picture of Emmanellain. “This guy we filed under low level too. He might be rich and from what I hear-charismatic. But he’s nothing to worry about! Since he’s from Ishgard.”

Butter’s face lit up. “Is it because Babycorn doesn’t like the cold?!”

“Exactly!!” Cinnamon crossed her arms, “Look at you Mr. Babycorn expert. You got it even worse than I thought.”

Butter looked away and blushed. “That’s not…! Everyone knows that! She makes sure everyone knows so that she can pack her favorite yellow sweater that pushes her cheeks up and makes her hair look a little fluffier from the back!”

Cinnamon raised an eyebrow at him.

Butter waved his arms up and down. “It’s true everyone knows thaaaat!!!”

“No they don’t Butter!” Cinnamon flew over and grabbed the top of the chart and slightly wiggled it. She was, in fact, trying to severely shake it but with her size she only managed a slight wiggle. “Trust us! Me and Pancake did our research and NONE of the people here are a good enough match for Babycorn!”

“Cinnamon…”

“You just have to learn to have more confidence in yourself!” Cinnamon flew around him in a circle, “You got all the makings of a perfect Babycorn boyfriend! The chart says so! The science says so!!”

“I-I mean if you say so!”

He didn’t have the heart to tell either Pancake or Cinnamon that in the end it all really depended on what Babycorn would choose for herself. Even if he was perfect for her. According to love experts Pancake and Cinnamon at least.

Of course Butter would be heartbroken if she chose someone else, but in the end all he really wanted was for Babycorn to be happy. For her to live her very best life with the person she loved the most.

Even now Butter could still see Babycorn’s little lopsided smile looking back at him.

Waving back at him.

He sighed, with a smile.

“I’ll wait patiently for her and I’ll never stop loving her no matter what happens.”

While Butter was distracted looking longingly out into the distance he didn’t notice how Cinnamon rolled up the chart into a large tube of paper until it was smacking him on the back of the head.

“Ow?!” Butter held up both of his hands to the back of his head and looked behind him. Cinnamon was flying in place and barring her surprisingly sharp teeth right at him.

“What did I just say?! I told you! Don’t wait! You take the initiative!!”

Butter blushed a deep red. “...But it’s embarrassing…” When the topic of confessing to Babycorn ever crossed his mind his speech became nothing more than an alphabet soup of words.

“You’re going to have to figure it out eventually…” Suddenly Cinnamon looked like she had an idea. Specifically her wings stopped flapping and she got a mischievous grin on her face. “I’ve got it!!!”

Butter, ever the supportive friend, could almost never catch up to Cinnamon’s true intentions.“What’s up?” he asked.

“Once Babycorn and the others come back! That’s when you’ll make your move!”

“Huh?!”

“Imagine it Butter!” She flew in close enough to his face and grabbed at his coat with her sleeves. “They’re all back from their long trip, a loooong boat ride back home. Babycorn starts to get off the boat-!” Cinnamon flew back and took some invisible steps off of an invisible boat.

“She looks around to get her bearings…When BAM!!”

“Bam??” Butter had no idea where Cinnamon was going with this.

“Bam! You’re there Butter! With your best clothes! A bouquet of flowers in hand!! Then before anyone knows what’s going on-! You ask Babycorn out on a date!!”

“WHAT?!” Butter blushed and his face felt the warmest it had felt since they left Limsa Lominsa that morning. “I-I-I c-can’t do that!!”

“Not right now you can’t!”

“What?”

“Everyone said they would be gone for a while right?” Specifically Cinnamon remembered that Lunya said they would be gone for an undetermined amount of time. Which Cinnamon had personally translated as ‘a long time’ of course. “That gives you enough time to get ready!”

“I-I mean I don’t know…!”

Cinnamon interrupted Butter before he could say anything else. “This is it Butter! It’s now or never!” It was almost certainly not, now or never, as Cinnamon suspected but she was willing to say anything to give Butter that extra push.

Butter closed his eyes and sat in silence for far longer than Cinnamon expected him to.

Then…

“Okay!” He nodded, “I’ll do it! I’ll ask Babycorn out when she comes back home!!”

Cinnamon couldn’t even begin to contain her excitement, she must have done a dozen loops in the air at that very second from the sheer amount of happiness she was feeling at that moment. “Yesssssss!!!” She couldn’t wait to tell Pancake about this!!

“Butter! You are going to ask her out perfectly! Nothing will go wrong!!”

Butter laughed awkwardly, he was beginning to regret his abrupt decision already. Though a part of him was also metaphorically doing loops in the air out of excitement. Especially if Babycorn’s answer would be ‘yes.’

“If you say so…”

#lalapril 2023 #OKAY IN MY DEFENSE this one was written before march SO #thats why its a LITTLE bit longer BUT I CAN ASSURE YOU TOMORROWS IS SHORT cause its already finished #well i mean almost BUTAMNNYWAY #butter :) i wanna believe he did buy tickets to go to old sharlayan once everyone got back #he also bought off the old sharlayan gift shop to send babycorn gifts or the gift shop of whatever hospital she was at #i was going to draw the chart at one point but i forgor but hildibrand is circled with a big red circle too signaled DANGER #i love butter love this little guy i wish him the best of luck #anyway NOW I REMEMBER THINK FOR MYSELF I KNOW I LL FIND her AND she ll BE THE babycorn OF MY DREAMS SOMEDAY OUR HEARTS WILL BEAT AS ONE #dododood do yay!

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dellaspinstales · 2 years

Text

Loving Cup, Chapter Four

Riff x Reader (West Side Story)

Plot preview: After returning home from the market, Y/N is in total turmoil. The one thing she knows is that she needs to go back to get her guavas. And to see Riff. And maybe attack him. But mainly, it's the guavas.

Notes: Please note characterizations and the timeline differ from the original story :-) Also, I have to say thank you so much for reading!! I truly didn’t expect anyone to read this LOL, and let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

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How can I get rid of Luis? He’s been in our apartment for almost an hour now, and after some futile attempts at starting conversation, he’s slowly started drifting off to sleep on a kitchen chair.

Our encounter with the Jets at the market officially ended family time; Nardo didn’t even come home. He headed straight to the boxing ring, presumably to get his frustrations out. And even though she doesn’t have a shift today, Anita decided she might as well go to the bridal store and pick up a dress she needs to alter. That just left me and Luis together. The garage he works at is only a few minutes from our apartment, so Anita made sure that he’d stay here until her return, at which point he could leave for his afternoon shift – any reason to squeeze in some more time between us.

I can’t stand to sit in silence staring at Luis anymore. It’s only 11 a.m., so I’m sure there’s still guavas left at Jorge’s stall. And I have a feeling the Jets will be there too. With Riff. Riff. Riff. Riff. His name rings in my ears. The leader of the Jets, our tormentors. Who does he think he is? For him to be speaking to me and looking at me and pulling me closer to him as if he… At least I know from his reaction this morning that he really had no idea I was Nardo’s sister, but if anything, that makes his behaviour even harder to understand. If Riff was somehow trying to get at Nardo through me, that would make sense. But to him, I was just some random Puerto Rican girl working in a café. This whole picture was confusing from the start, but now it’s even murkier than ever.

But it’s not just confusion that’s welling up within me. My entire body is buzzing with anger; I feel tricked, outraged, furious at Riff. A tiny voice in my head speaks up: did he ever lie to me? He never tried to pretend he was something he wasn’t, and even though I didn’t know Riff’s identity, I knew for certain he was a Jet. And I still let myself get pulled into him, literally and figuratively, when I could have easily walked away. How could I have been so stupid?

One thing is certain: I need to go back to the market. Not to see Riff, of course, but to pick up the guavas I need to test my panetela de guayaba recipe. And if he comes up to me, I won’t waste time asking him questions about what on earth he was thinking. I’ll just pick up the hardest, mottled, sour-smelling guava, and I’ll slam it against his smug face. I swear, I’ll do it. And if I’m still alive, I’ll trail it down his neck and onto his chest, so the guava stench steeps through his skin. I press my hand against my forehead. What am I thinking? I don’t know what’s happening to me. I need to see him, and I need some guavas. I’ve officially lost my mind.

Luis’s head is rolling backwards slightly. I groan loudly and clutch my stomach. He snorts a little but is still fast asleep. I take a deep breath and groan even louder.

He jumps awake, eyes wide. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yes, it’s just… I have stomach pains,” I say faintly.

“Did you eat something bad? Did you eat breakfast? Maybe it was the eggs, but I had them, and I feel fine… Unless its –”

I cut him off. “No, Luis. It’s not that kind of stomach pain. It’s…” I pause, thoughts racing until they land on exactly what I need to say to get him out of here. I look away from him, already feeling a twinge of guilt for the plan I’m about to enact. “It’s women’s problems, you know? Usually, I take ibuprofeno, but we don’t have any left.” I’m speaking very fast now: “Can you run to Valentina’s and get a bottle?”

I look back at Luis and concern mars his face. He jumps up from his seat and grabs his jacket, draped on the back of chair. “Of course, Y/N. Just lie down, I’ll be back in half an hour.”

He’s almost out the door when I call for him to stop. “Luis, it’s a very specific medicine I need. It’s a small dark blue and red box. With a white stripe on it.”

He nods firmly. “Don’t worry, I’ll find it. Just rest.”

The door shuts and I wonder how long it will take him to discover that no such medicine box exists, at least not to my knowledge. Unless he asks Valentina first—but her confusion will probably drag on for a little while as well. Either way, I have the opportunity I need to leave the apartment. I wait by the door for five minutes, restlessly pacing back and forth until enough time has passed. I swing open the door, run through the faded carpeted corridor and make my way to the stairs. Once I’ve reached the apartment exit, my hand resting on the doorknob, the guilt of misleading Luis threatens to overwhelm me. I briefly entertain the idea of turning back, but I know it’s not a serious possibility. I can’t help it; I have to see Riff again.

*****************************************************************************************************

He’s absentmindedly crushing a cigarette with the heel of his shoe when I spot him. All the Jets are back amongst the rubble heap and Riff is at the centre, head down.

The market is noticeably quieter—a few of the stalls have even closed up. I wouldn’t be surprised if the events of the morning tampered down the crowd. I stay on my side of the street, but I walk as close to the curb as possible. I’m wearing the same dress as I was before, with the full white skirt. I walk slowly with my head turned squarely towards the stalls, but I let my hand frequently brush against the dress, slightly rippling the ruffles. I perform this strange routine all the way down the street until I hit the fruit stall, never looking back at the Jets, or anyone else for that matter.

Jorge isn’t there. He’s probably bringing in more produce for the afternoon, but most of the fruit is still out. I stand by the guava crate for the second time today and I feel a pang in my chest. Years ago, my mother taught me how to tell if a guava is ripe. The best guavas have a yellow-green peel with a hint of pink. The fruit should feel soft under a gentle squeeze of your fingers. Finally, when you close your eyes and inhale deeply, the perfect guava has a beautifully sweet scent. I pick up a fruit and bring it to my nose.

“You’re back.”

I look sharply over my shoulder at Riff who has appeared behind me, an almost impressed smile playing on his face. “Without your…brother.” He says “brother” slowly, emphasizing each syllable as if he would much rather call Nardo by another name.

I narrow my eyes in disdain and try to raise one eyebrow. “And you’re back. Without your boys.”

He raises his right eyebrow perfectly in surprise. This is the first time I’ve spoken to him.

I turn back to the crate, trailing my hand over a few guavas, as if I couldn’t care less about him, even though my heart is racing. Remember the plan: pick the ugliest guava you can find and shove it in his throat.

Riff clears his throat, moving so he’s alongside me now, standing by a crate of oranges. “I didn’t know Bernando had a sister.” I don’t give any indication that I heard him. “Bet he doesn’t let you outta the house, right?”

I turn my head again and clearly my expression is as withering as I intended it to be, because that crooked grin drops from his face immediately. “Don’t say his name,” I say as forcefully as I can. It’s difficult to do, because all I can think about when I look at him is how I was so close to him three days ago that I could have traced the scar on his cheekbone with my finger. Perhaps I didn’t think the practicalities of my attack plan through.

His eyes flit to the guava in my hand, which I’ve curled my fingers around tightly. “You’re not gonna hit me with that, are ya?” he says jokily. One hand is resting on his hip casually, but the fingers of the other are drumming on the edge of the orange crate.

I relax my grip, letting the fruit fall back in the crate. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? I’m sure your boys are missing you.” My voice is spiky.

“Nah, I told ‘em I’d meet them by the docks later. Plus, I thought you’d might like to talk for a bit. Get to know each other.” He has that smirk on his face again, the same one he had when he was mocking Nardo.

I frown and I open my mouth to ask him why he would think I have any interest in getting to know him, but I absolutely do not want to hear him mention the Broomstick Incident. Instead, I go back to squeezing the guavas. If I can’t bring myself to attack him with fruit, at least I can ignore him.

“These for the shop? You making something new?”

I don’t respond as I squeeze one with the perfect rind colouring, but it’s far too hard.

He continues the conversation anyway. “The stuff I tried, it was pretty good. The triangle potato thing, that was nice. But that fried cheese you gave me was great.”

He’s talking about the stale sorullito de maiz. I frown in disbelief, and I can’t help myself from asking: “Really?”

His eyes light up immediately, latching onto the fact that I’m still engaging with him. Why am I still engaging with him? “Oh yeah,” he says in an exaggerated drawl, “that was the best one! It’s like a cheese corn dog.”

I stare at him but all I see is sincerity in his face. Either he lies with incredible ease, or his taste-buds are entirely dead.

“What’s it called? So I know for next time.”

His casual assertion that there will be a next time throws me off. “Sorullito de maiz,” I say, hesitantly.

“Sorullito de maiz,” he repeats, totally butchering the pronunciation. Our eyes meet. Teaching a Puerto-Rican-hating white boy a Spanish word – isn’t this the American Dream? The thought is so ridiculous it almost makes me laugh.

Riff’s eyes are catching the sunlight, revealing hazel flecks within the warm blue tones. My heart feels like it's floating unmoored in my chest. I break the stare, turning back abruptly to the guava crate.

Riff watches me for a minute or so in silence, before starting up again: “How are you picking which ones you want? What do you look for?”

He really doesn’t know when to give up. I guess that trait serves him well when he’s planning ways to push us out of our neighbourhood. He’s much more committed than I am, I have to give him that. If I had stuck to my own plan, this conversation wouldn’t be lasting so long. I should have chucked a guava in his face as soon as he approached me and sprinted away. I look ahead, and Jorge is still not here.

“It should be soft. Green and yellow skin. And it smells sweet,” I reply in clipped tones.

I find two ideal guavas in quick succession, and I balance them both in one hand. I’m still testing the recipe, so I’m not planning to make a huge batch and potentially waste produce. Even I’m not cocky enough to buy more than two for my practice cake. I pick up the pace, striding over to the apple crate further down the stall.

“Hey, wait!” Riff catches up to me, standing in front of me now and holding a guava gingerly in his hand. “How about this one?” He outstretches his arm and I notice a tattoo of a cartoon girl above his wrist. She’s stroking her hair and looking over her shoulder coquettishly. It’s not a vulgar illustration, but I still feel a little odd, looking at something that’s clearly suggestive.

I have all the guavas I need. I know this. But I still watch my hand as it moves of its own accord – entirely separate from my brain – to take it from Riff. Our fingers brush as he passes it over. The skin is blemished and mottled in brown patches. I frown. Clearly, he doesn’t listen, I think, but the fruit is soft to my touch. I hesitantly lift it to my nose, close my eyes, and inhale. The sweet and fruity fragrance goes straight to my head. It’s almost perfect. I open my eyes and I remember Riff is still there, watching.

“It’s rotten,” I say curtly as I balance it down on the edge of the apple crate and turn away.

“Hold on,” Riff moves towards me quickly like he’s about to catch my arm, but he drops back just as fast, like he changed his mind. “No way its rotten.” His voice is indignant in an oddly endearing way.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” I shrug. He doesn’t need to know he was right.

“Are you sure?” Riff’s eyes are sparkling in the midday sun, like he’s had an idea. “Yes,” I say, but my voice is hesitant and unconvincing, even to me.

He takes a step towards me. “Alright. Let’s make a deal. If its rotten, I’ll never speak to you again.”

“And if its sweet?”

“Then I get to keep talking to you,” he smiles.

“Well, I’m not going to buy this just for your little game,” I say as I’m about to step past him.

“Oh no need,” he says. Riff holds my gaze as he bites into the fruit. My eyes widen as I watch his face contort. Guava skin is edible, but I’m certain he’s tasting the gritty taste that’s on all unwashed fruit. He does his best to chew it and force it down smoothly, but he gulps with a strangled sound.

“You’re supposed to wash it first.” I try to keep my voice even, but I can’t help smiling at how idiotic this boy is. Riff looks down at me, a faint blush appearing on his neck.

“I know that,” he says coolly, but his voice is a little hoarse. “And I was right, it’s sweet.”

I frown. “Why should I believe you?”

Riff flashes a grin, regaining his composure, and takes a step towards me. He holds the guava out to me. “Try it.”

I try not to react to his proximity, which I’ve increasingly realized has the ability to freeze my brain.

“I already told you,” I reply slowly and deliberately, trying to focus on each word. “It needs to be washed.”

He takes another step forward. “Just a taste. That’s not gonna hurt ya, doll.”

I flinch at his last word. “Why did you call me that?”

“Well, I still don’t know your name. It doesn’t mean anything bad,” he adds quickly.

“I know what doll means,” I say, firm enough that I’m hoping it ends the conversation. I’m not interested in explaining the significance to him.

He doesn’t seem to care either way because he takes another half-step towards me. Riff’s closeness is all too familiar, a playful challenge in its own right, but his blue eyes focus on mine in a way that suggests something more than just teasing.

I inhale a slightly trembling breath, but I don’t break his gaze. I have no interest in making him think I’m weak, scared or affected by him in any way, however much of a lie that may be.

“Y/N!”

A voice echoes faintly in the street. Anita’s voice. Riff doesn’t react. Why would he, when the name is nothing more than a meaningless sound to him. But for me, it means my time is up.

“I…I have to go,” I say unsteadily. A crease instantly appears between Riff’s eyebrows as I start walking towards the guava crate, so I can put back the two perfect fruit I’m holding. Jorge is still not here so there’s no way I can buy these now.

Riff takes a few long strides by my side to get in front of me, holding out one palm to stop me going any further while the other holds the half-bitten guava.

“Can I see you again?” He’s speaking urgently, like he’s trying to get out the words before I disappear into thin air. I roll my eyes as I place the two guavas back in the crate.

“I’m serious. Tell me ‘No’ and I won’t talk to you again, swear to God.” He’s talking even faster now.

“Just stop,” I say sharply. “You know who I am, don’t you? And I definitely know who you are.”

“So, it’s a no,” Riff says lightly, but he doesn’t meet my eyes anymore. He smiles dryly at nothing in particular, looking somewhere past my head, and makes no attempt to argue with my words.

I’m suddenly hit with how ridiculous this whole scene is: the leader of the Jets being disappointed that he can’t keep speaking to a Puerto Rican girl, and me, the puertoriqueña, the sister of Bernardo, fighting a twisted knot of denial in my stomach. I shake my head in disbelief, trying to wake myself up from this hallucination.

“Y/N!” I jerk my head now to look past Riff. I don’t know if I’m just imagining it, but her voice sounds closer. What would Anita say if she spots me with him? What would she think?

Now it gets Riff’s attention too. He turns his head behind him for a moment, then back to me. “Someone’s lookin’ for you,” he says slowly, like he’s just realized something.

I stare at Riff for a second before I start walking past him. He doesn’t attempt to stop me or turn around to watch me leave. I only manage a few steps, though, before I stop in my tracks. What would Anita think? The question resounds in my head, slamming back and forth across my mind in a way that makes me dizzy. I take another step away from Riff and the knot in my stomach tightens further, the second time he’s made me breathless. At once, I become painfully aware of what I’m going to do.

I turn back around and walk briskly to Riff. His back is still facing me, so I move to stand directly in front of him. He turns his head to look at me just as I pull the bitten guava from his hand, into mine.

Riff’s eyes widen for a moment before they crease into a disbelieving smile. “You–” he starts to speak, but I’m not planning to stick around. I’ve made my position clear in the only way I can bring myself to do. I step backwards and run away from him as fast as I can, my skirt flapping against my legs as I kick up dust from gravel with my shoes.

It’s when I hit the shoe stall that I see Anita. She catches my eye and storms towards me immediately: “Y/N! Are you crazy?” I’m guessing she was asking the shoe stall owner if he had seen me, considering his look of relief at the sight of this reunion.

“You have a lot to explain for yourself. Telling Luis that you’re sick, then going to the market? What were you thinking? What if you had fainted?” Anita’s voice is shrill in a panicked anger.

“You should have seen Luis, how worried he was. I had to force him to go to work, he was going to skip his shift to come find you. And that medicine you told him to get, I’ve never heard of it before! What’s wrong with you?”

Anita grabs my forearm, fully prepared to pull me all the way home, if need be, when her eyes shift to the guava. Her frown deepens.

“You just bought that?” And started eating it, unwashed, unclean, she doesn’t say, but her eyes imply it.

“I was hungry,” I reply meekly.

Anita’s stare doesn’t relent, but her voice betrays her concern. “You didn’t eat anything today?”

I shake my head no. She sighs a pained, world-weary sigh and lets go of my arm. “Finish it. It’s too hot to be hungry.”

I turn the fruit around in my hands to where it’s already been bitten. I bring it to my lips and take a tentative bite in the same spot. It’s sweet.

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tagging: @mahmahmahmysharona, @whisperofsong, @graziellalovesriff

#riff #riff west side story #west side story #riff x reader #wss #mike faist #mike faist x reader #riff fanfic #fanfic #west side story fanfic

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outivv · 3 years

Note

Okay but like, what if the tall Genshin boys (Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, and Dainsleif) have a smol crush that can and will jump on them and make them carry her around, either bridal style or piggyback. She will also stare intently at them, until they notice and ask what's up, and she just goes,"Pick me up you handsome bastard" And she may or may not nuzzle into them everytime they carry her, because a handsome man is holding her and she likes that handsome man :D

Synopsis: handsome man has crush on smol reader, who likes to be carried around.

Warnings: none!

Game/ fandom: genshin impact

Characters: zhongli, Diluc, Dainsleif, childe, and kaeya. (In other words tall handsome men.)

Pronouns for reader: gender neutral/ not mentioned

A/n: sorry I’m getting to this so late, I saw it but was in the middle of stuff and was like “oh shit I’m not gonna get to this for a hot second” so I’m really sorry. But here I am now! Lowkey you’re carrying my blog rn with these amazing requests 💀. I really hope you enjoy, especially because of the wait, and take care of yourself!

— zhongli —

Zhongli has a habit of staring, so when you stare at him expectingly he just thinks that you have the same habit. So he’s fairly unbothered by it. He takes a while to look at you, because again he’s unbothered.

When he does and you instantly say, “pick me up you handsome bastard” he almost spits out he tea from shock. Instead he just chokes on his tea. After regaining his composure, he just looks at you like “for real??? Now??? I mean sure but... now???”

He’ll pick you up at any time, but unless it’s in the privacy of your own home he kinda looks at you weirdly before picking you up

If you ever throw yourself at him he’ll catch you yes, but then proceed to put you down (if you’re in public otherwise he’d carry you everywhere) and if he’s working then he’d just sit you in his lap, and get back to work. But make no mistake he’d carry you everywhere the second you get back home.

Whenever you nuzzle into him his heart just... breaks. In a good way! (If there is a good way...?) He just adores you, and in this moment he’ll typically chuckle a bit, kissing your forehead, and bringing you away to cuddle (if you want to ofc he’s a gentleman after all! He’ll ask you!)

— Diluc —

Diluc... kinda just goes along with it. You jump into his arms at any point and time and he’ll probably just be like, “... mkay 😐” and continue with whatever he’s doing.

The only time he doesn’t do this is when he’s working at angels share, and when he’s fighting. He needs his hands for both, so he can’t carry you.

He knows what you want when you stare at him. Typically he’ll oblige your request, and just sigh and say, “alright come here” with arms wide open. But other times he’ll notice yeah, but just see how determined you are for him to carry you. So he’ll pretend that you aren’t staring at him with a smile, he wants to laugh so badly because your face is so funny in the corner of his eye.

When you break down and say, “pick me up you handsome bastard” he’ll just have the most shocked face, with a bright red blush. After that he’ll pick you up with no hesitation.

Whenever he feels you nuzzling yourself into the fluffy part of his coat, his knees go weak. He can carry anyone no matter their height/size/ weight, but he feels so weak in that moment. You truly have him wrapped around your finger.

— Dainsleif —

He typically doesn’t notice when you stare at him. Like he does... but doesn’t. He’s fairly unbothered so he knows, but it’s just a thought in the back of his mind.

When you out of nowhere say, “pick me up you handsome bastard” he’ll be shocked. Slightly blushing and trying to hide said blush with his massive freaking hands. But not long after he’ll have his arms open waiting for you.

He’ll often stare at you when you’re in his arms. Whether he’s just cuddling with you or carrying you, he’ll just... stare at you. So when you nuzzle into him, he’ll most likely see it. And his heart becomes so soft. He can’t believe that you’re with him. Someone who many think failed them. Failed protecting them. But now he gets to start over. Have a life with you, protect you. He gets a second chance. Thoughts like these will swirl his mind, and he’ll have the most adoring look on his face. He’ll hold you tighter against him, and kiss the top of your head about a thousand times, while whispering words of adoration.

Whenever you jump into his arms he’ll catch you, I mean if you ran at full speed at jumped on him he’ll catch you. Mans strong as hell what can I say.

If you jump on his back he’ll be surprised yes, and will absolutely not think it’s you at first until he hears your voice. He was ready to fight someone, so maybe don’t jump on his back 😀

— childe —

You don’t even have to look at him, for him to pick you up. He’ll do it either way he does not care. Most of the time he’ll throw you over his shoulder just for fun (especially around your house).

When you do stare at him though he’ll notice yeah, but wait until you get so full of him just looking straight ahead not paying any attention to you. So when you say, “pick me up you handsome bastard.” He’ll act unsurprised (which he pretty much is), but he’s blushing so hard that it makes you think otherwise.

Whenever you jump on him, and kinda force him to carry you he’ll just look at you with a smirk, and say some corny pick up line. Man I’d run out of his arms so fast- he’s just trying to be funny and make you laugh though. He doesn’t mean any harm.

If you jump on his back though... he’ll flip you onto the floor in an instant. I don’t know why you’d think that jumping onto a fatui harbinger’s back was a good idea... they were literally trained to fight... 👁👄👁

Childe is fairly oblivious whenever he’s carrying you, he’s so used to if at this point that he just spaces out. But when he feels you nuzzling into his chest he’ll snap right back to reality. He’ll tease you a bit, but tease him back, even a little bit and he’ll just malfunction. He’ll be absolutely smitten with you, and give you like thirty kisses as you laugh. Sneaking in a few ‘shut ups’ before continuing to kiss you.

— kaeya —

You’re either super lucky, or are absolutely screwed. He’ll notice you staring. He knows. And he just keeps looking straight ahead of him with a smile. And he would continue doing that until you said, “pick me up you handsome bastard.” Cause then he’d snort, and entertain your request.

Kaeya typically carries you around the favonius headquarters when he has nothing to do. And when he feels you nuzzle into him, he gets so unexplainably soft, that he’ll march right back to his office to cuddle with you in his lap for a while. Or he’ll flat out carry you home. He has his moments where he becomes so soft that he can’t do anything else other than hold you close.

If you run after him, he’ll just... ignore you. Until the last second of course. At the last second he’ll pick you up, and twirl you around kissing you all over your face before carrying you bridal style.

Doesn’t know how to react when you jump on his back. A part of him at first thinks “who is this... what????” And wants to flip you over like childe, but another part of him is like “calm tf down it’s just y/n 🧍” so as you can see he’s kinda conflicted. But that all stops when he hears you laughing from behind him, and saying a hello through your giggles. You lowkey gave him a heart attack though

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

Text

Part Ten. Faces

warnings: swearing, hate comments word count: 4.1k (not including pics)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: sorry its late!!!! this feels rushed but i was just too excited to get to some parts!!! also i have had some parts written out for SO long that they dont even feel cute to me anymore so im literally praying to every deity rn that you guys think its cute lmao anyway enjoy!!!!

**********

It had been about a week since Karl's slip up but everything was already more normal than Y/n had expected it to be. Of course, George, Sapnap and Quackity were all very understanding and gave her space while simultaneously reassuring her that she was safe with them. She fully believed it too, she knew she was safe with them and they weren't going to tell anyone her name.

The one unusual thing was now she had a heavy guilt, like someone dropped another sandbag in her stomach, every time Dream texted her. If the others knew, it was only fair that she tell him her name too, right? I mean, it's Dream. Dream! The boy who had quickly slipped his way into her life and, though she wouldn't admit it to Karl or Naomi, her heart.

But how? Does she just come right out and say it or wait until it gets brought up? She hadn't practiced telling anyone her name because she wasn't planning on doing it any time soon. Though, maybe she should have been seeing as she was going to see them all in person in a little over a month.

Regardless of the guilt, Y/n had other things to worry about today; Quackity was coming to visit. Karl had picked him up from the airport and the two of them spent all day catching up and doing who knows what but Y/n still hadn't met him. She was scared. She wasn't scared of Quackity, but scared because it was the first time one of her online friends would be able to put a face to her name and voice.

Y/n shuffled across her living room rug and reached for her phone on the coffee table, looking for some sort of distraction while she waited for them to arrive.

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, shaking her head as she threw her phone on the couch. Okay, he's right. It's gonna be fine. It's gonna be great. It's just Quackity. If he said anything rude or annoying or anything she could literally just step on him like a bug.

A sharp knock on the front door of her apartment snapped her back into reality. She shook her limbs of nervousness as she made her way to the door, two familiar voices begging to be acknowledged from the other side.

"Let us iiinnn!! Y/nnn!!!!" Karl whined.

After countless times asking the same question, she finally convinced Karl that she was okay with him using her real name in front of Quackity. He clearly still felt guilty about telling the boys her name, asking her multiple times in different ways whether he should call her Y/n or Bugsy in front of the guest. She finally got it through his head that she didn't mind either way.

"Hold on!" she yelled back. She unlocked the door and swung it open to see Karl and Quackity. "So impatient."

"Holy shit, you are tall! Goddammit, I thought that was a joke!"

Y/n laughed shyly at the greeting, looking at Quackity like he was crazy. "Hello to you too. Tried to warn you, dude."

"Yeah but, damn! You're tall and attractive, what the hell?"

"Dude," she said with a warning in her voice. She thought the flirting on Twitter was funny, but in real life she got embarrassed easier and wasn't a fan. "I'm about to kick you out of my house before I even let you in."

This was weird, meeting Quackity before meeting some of her other friends. She loved Quackity, but she had known George much longer and Sapnap even before that. There was no problem with meeting Quackity, she just had no idea how to act since she felt like she hardly knew him.

"Am I allowed to tell people that you're hot?" he asked as he fell on her couch, Karl following right after.

"Quackity!" Y/n yelled, her face heating up at a compliment. "Seriously?"

Karl cackled and shoved Quackity. "Shut up, Alex! No, you're not allowed!"

"Sorry, is that compliment reserved for Dream?" He cackled at his own joke and Y/n's face heated up even more.

"I seriously will kick you out of my house."

"You wanna be flirty on main but not in real life?" Quackity scoffed.

"I'm not flirty on main, you are!" she laughed. "Seriously, don't."

"Okay, sorry, I'll stop," Quackity promised with a laugh in his words.

The three of them fell into easy conversation, mostly because Karl and Quackity were already comfortable around each other at this point. They eventually decided to go to the mall, just to mess around and do something.

*reminder: covid doesn't exist in this fic bc we only want happy things so ignore their masks :P*

Y/n frowned as she unlocked her front door, staring at her phone. She had been so happy with all the fans freaking out about the meetup so she looked at the trending list, expecting to see a flood of keyboard smashes and happiness, but that's not all she ended up seeing. BUGKARLITY was trending, so she scrolled through the tweets and was upset to see not all of them were positive. In fact, when she typed her name in the search bar, lots of the tweets using her name were rather mean.

A few that stuck in her head called her an attention whore and said that her friends only flirted with her because she paid them too. Who on earth would even do that? Some hurt way more than others but she tried to push them aside. It wasn't like this was the first time she had seen comments like this, but they had only gotten worse since her Minecraft date with Dream. She was worried it was cause more hate for her friends and the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of their own hate.

She typed several different messages to Dream, deleting them all after she reread them. She felt like she had to request the same thing from him in a different way. Maybe because she felt like his words meant more, even if he really was just joking like the rest of them. She decided to call him instead of texting.

"Hi!" he chirped happily from the other end.

"Hi, Dream," she said as her chest filled with something warm at the sound of his voice. "How are you doing?"

"Good," he dragged out the word. "How are you?"

"Okay."

"Just okay? What's up?"

"Um," she started, immediately forgetting the words she decided she'd use. "I just... would you mind, uh, not flirting with me so much on, like, Twitter and streams and stuff like that?"

There was a silence before Dream's frantically apologetic words came through. "Yes, of course, oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. If I had known I was making you uncomfortable, I wouldn't have—"

"Wait, no," she interrupted but he must not have heard.

"—said things like... oh gosh. Bug, I'm really sorry—"

"Dream!" she raised her voice, getting him to stop ranting. "You don't make me uncomfortable."

"Oh. Really?"

"Of course not. I actually think it's really..." Cute? Adorable? Endearing? "funny," she decided.

"Oh. Then why...?"

She sighed heavily and explained what she told the others. "So, yeah. I just don't want you guys getting hate because of me so I figure if you stop then... you know."

"Bug..." he said gently. "I'm really sorry. I promise you that I don't—none of us think those things about you."

"I know."

"No, seriously," he said, clearly not believing her. "You need to understand that I..." he paused. "I mean what I say. Always."

Always? she thought. There's a few things he's said that certainly he didn't really mean... like calling her cute?

"I don't joke around like that unless I want to. I wouldn't say things like I say to you unless I really, really, genuinely considered you a close friend and felt comfortable around you. And I do."

Her heart swelled. "Thanks, Dream. I just... maybe don't do it so much for right now? Online, at least," she clarified, not wanting to deprive herself completely of Dream's flirting.

"Yeah, if that's what you want, of course."

"Well, I don't want you to stop flirting with me but, yeah."

He chuckled. "Oh, you do like when I flirt with you?"

She hummed and changed the subject. "Did I interrupt you doing anything?"

"No," his teasing voice dropped and was back to his regular self. "I'm just editing the video we filmed the other day."

"Oh, the 'Minecraft, but you can't touch the floor'?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh," she said, not meaning to sound disappointed. "I'll let you get back to it—"

"No. I mean, you can stay on the phone. Unless you're busy."

She smiled and put her phone on speaker and set it next to her foot on the floor. "I was just gonna paint. So I can stay."

Before she knew it, almost two hours had passed of them sitting in comfortable silence, occasionally speaking to share something with the other before going back to their tasks. It was comforting knowing she didn’t need to speak constantly and could just hang out with Dream.

Y/n's phone rested on the floor next to her, Dream on speakerphone on the other end, only the sounds of his keyboard clicking letting her know he hadn't fallen asleep or hung up. She wasn't sure when they started doing this, staying on the phone even when they had nothing to talk about, but they had done it a few times before. They had talked on the phone and Discord many times but it was usually always with purpose, not usually this silently-enjoying-each-others-presence nonsense. Who was she kidding calling it nonsense, she enjoyed it an embarrassingly insane amount.

She repositioned so she was laying on her stomach as she finished sketching an image that was in her mind.

"Hey, you still there?" Dream asked softly.

"Yeah. Sorry, am I taking away from your sitting in silence time with George?" she joked.

Dream chuckled lightly. "Nah, you're more fun. I was just seeing if you ditched me for Karl yet."

"Nah, you're more fun," she mimed truthfully. "But I'm very focused on this drawing."

"Can I see it when you're done?"

"Don't expect too much. It looks bad."

"If you don't tell me what it is, I can't know how accurate or inaccurate it is."

"Very true..." she trailed off, holding the canvas further away to examine it all at once. She wanted the sketch to be perfect before she made permanent choices with paint. She enjoyed the serenity they maintained even when talking, voices low and delicate like they were keeping secrets but not quite whispering. "Are you almost done editing your video from the other day?"

"Sorta. I'm at the part where you and Sapnap almost died laughing because a ghast knocked George into lava and then Sapnap laughed so hard he fell into lava."

She chuckled, remembering the situation vividly. "That was so funny. The way George screams is so funny."

"Let Naomi know that," he mumbled, causing Y/n to gasp.

"Dream!" she laughed loudly and he joined.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's true though."

"Disgusting!"

A distant voice sounded on the other end and she assumed it was Sapnap. "What do you want for dinner?"

Dream responded with a soft, "Nothing, I'm good."

"Are you talking to Bugsy?"

He must have responded physically because the next sound was Sapnap's very clear, much more lively voice speaking directly into the phone. "Hi, Bugsy!"

"Hi, Sapnap!"

"Can you tell Dream to eat some damn food? This man literally hasn't eaten a single thing all goddamn day."

"Dream," Y/n scolded slowly. "Please eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I'm not showing you my painting until you eat."

A door closed on the other end and she took that as a sign that Sapnap had left.

"I don't wanna see it anyway. It's probably trash."

"Take that back!" she gasped lightly. She looked at the canvas as she grabbed the first paint color and laughed. It was only a sketch and it was already trash. "Fine, then I won't go on the trip if you don't eat in the next ten minutes."

"That's punishing yourself too though."

"Who says I want to see you?" she asked.

"I never said anything about not seeing me being the punishment."

She had been caught. "It was implied."

"Sure it was."

"It's true though. Who says I wanna see your stupid face?"

He didn't say anything, but an incoming FaceTime call lit up Y/n's phone. A FaceTime call from him.

Her smile dropped. "Clay?"

"Answer it," his voice was lower and her heart started beating faster. Was he really about to show her his face to prove a point? Reveal his biggest secret that only a few close friends knew? To her of all people? She made sure she couldn't be seen in the small window and pressed accept, the voice call ending and the FaceTime call starting.

To her surprise, what came into view wasn't his face, but the logo of the hoodie he was wearing, the simple smile of his merch taunting her. She laughed, the anxiety slowly fading away as it was replaced with a heavy feeling in her stomach. Was she disappointed? Maybe a little, but he teased her into believing she would see him.

"Oh, wow! Dream face reveal! He looks just like his icon, no way!!!"

His chest moved up and down as he laughed, not moving the camera away. "You heard it here first, guys! You've known my face all along, the logo is actually my face!"

She laughed and returned to painting, not paying any more attention to her phone since he was now also showing his ceiling, a small corner of his monitor in frame but nothing else. "I mean it though, if you don't eat, I'm going to be so mad I won't even want to be friends anymore. Or you'll die from malnourishment before we get the chance to meet."

"I doubt it. I'm just not hungry."

"Whatever."

"Oh, hey, so you met Quackity today. How was it?"

"Very scary."

"Yeah?" he asked sympathetically, urging her to explain if she wanted.

"Yeah. But it turned out okay! He didn't act any different so it was fine. It was mostly just awkward. He's also so freaking loud. You would not believe how much louder he and Karl get when they're together."

"I can imagine. Aren't they doing a stream right now or something?"

"Yeah, I think so. I don't wanna watch though, I've had enough of them for the month."

Dream laughed. "How will you deal with them together for New Years'? It'll be for like two weeks."

"Who knows if I'll actually go?"

"Wait, what?" he asked abruptly, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. His keyboard stopped clicking and she could picture him staring at his phone as if looking at her. "Of course you're going."

"Not if you don't eat food! You have, like, 3 minutes to eat something until I officially am busy doing other things whenever the trip is."

Dream groaned and clicked a few things on his computer before the image on the screen became blurry as he walked through the house, still pointing it at the ceiling. She looked away again and kept painting.

"Quackity's really funny though," she continued. "It was super awkward at first but it was fun to have someone else to help me make fun of Karl."

"Wait, Bug," Dream called out over the sound of wrappers crinkling.

"Hm?" She hummed, continuing to paint.

"Bug," his voice was much softer and he sounded nervous.

She looked at her screen and dropped the paintbrush as she focused on what she saw, grabbing her phone and holding it closer to her face so she could see, still making sure she wasn't in view. All the anxiety from the beginning of the FaceTime suddenly came back and hit her like a truck. Sitting on her screen, waiting to be seen, was Dream. His hood was up, tufts of blonde hair sticking out, and he was standing with his back towards a dark room, the dim light from his pantry making his face just visible.

He held up a cookie in front of his actual, real face. "Are you watching?"

"Y-yea... I... Yeah. I'm watching. Is that really you?"

He nodded once before shoving the cookie in his mouth. "There, I consumed food," he announced, his voice muffled by the cookie. "Now you're legally obligated to come."

"I—What? CLAY! WHAT?"

"What?" he asked innocently as he chewed, walking back to his room and still holding the phone up to show his face. His room light was on, making his face much more visible. If Y/n thought he was attractive in the harsh pantry light, he must have looked like a god in his room lighting, even as pixelated as he was due to the quality of FaceTime. He fell on his bed and Y/n could only gape at his features. He slumped against his headboard, surrounded by roughly a thousand pillows, sporting a small, shy smile as he stared at the screen. "Bug, what?"

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Needless to say, he was unbelievably handsome. Part of the speechlessness was from the shock that he showed his face out of the blue, but obviously, the majority of it was that he was pretty much the most attractive person she'd ever seen. It should be illegal for someone to look that good in a hoodie, especially when pixelated.

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "Wanna take back what you said earlier?" He bit into another cookie.

"W-what did I say earlier?" Why was she stuttering???

"You said you don't wanna see me and that I'm ugly," he teased.

She paused for too many seconds too long before finally muttering, "you arrogant son of a bitch." He laughed loudly at that.

His eyes crinkled and he threw his head back. So that's what he looks like when he wheezes, she thought to herself, pretty.

Dream shuffled his position on his bed and rested his head on one of his hands. He looked so comfy. "Why are you so quiet, weirdo?" he mumbled.

She set her phone back down and touched her cheeks with her hands and looked away for a moment, grounding herself to the real world for a second. She couldn't process her thoughts when she was staring at a man as gorgeous as Clay. "I don't know, maybe because you gave me no warning before showing me your face? Or because you failed to mention that you're incredibly hot?"

She was so glad she had looked back at her phone or else she would have missed the glorious sight of his cheeks turning bright red before he turned the camera back to his ceiling. "Oh my gosh."

"Aw cute, I made you blush."

"Shut up," he mumbled. "You threatened to not come if I didn't eat something!"

"You didn't have to—you showed me your freaking face just to prove you ate a cookie!! DREAM! I would have believed you if you just said you ate something!" she laughed breathlessly, staring at the phone now for a chance to see him again. "I was joking anyway!"

"Sure you were."

"I was."

"Well, oh well. You deserved to see me anyway."

"Oh, I deserve to see you?" She laughed. "How big is your ego?"

"You know what I meant," he groaned. "You got doxxed by Karl and you met Quackity in person. And you've clearly had a bad day because of all the hate and stuff. You've done a lot of stressful things recently and you deserved to be let in on a secret too."

He was so sweet. Like, tooth-rotting, Halloween candy stash hidden under a kid's bed, upset tummy sweet. She also couldn't get over the fact that he was a million times cuter when he was shy like he was being now, his voice soft and unsure. It contrasted vastly with the confident, loud-mouthed Dream everyone usually saw, though she liked that Dream too. She wished he could show his face for just one more second to see what he looked like shy. Probably sickeningly adorable.

This was it, wasn't it? The chance she had been waiting for to tell him her name? He just let her in on his biggest secret, now he was the one deserving to be let in.

"Y/n," she said with a confident, but soft voice.

There was a long pause. "W-what?"

"Y/n."

He understood the second time immediately. "Y/n..." he tested, the smile in his voice clear as day. "I like it."

"Yeah, well, I guess you deserved to know the secret too."

"I would have been content never knowing."

"Really?" She didn't believe him. He seemed like the type to never be satisfied, always looking for something better. Not in a greedy way, but in a motivational, goal-oriented big achiever way.

"Really," he hummed. "I already feel like you're too good to be true so I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't a real person."

It was silent as she tried to collect her thoughts.

"Bug? You okay?"

"Yeah, I... it's just a lot."

"Sorry."

"No, it's not you. Well... I don't know. I just don't know what I'm supposed to say when you say things like that," she admitted.

He paused. "I think you always have the perfect responses when I say things like that."

"What do I usually say?" She smiled shyly, pulling her hoodie up to her lips.

"You usually call me a nerd or say you can't stand me. 'Oh my gosh I cannot stand you'," he mimicked before laughing.

"What? How is that the perfect response to you saying you can't believe I'm real?"

He hummed and she could practically hear him shrugging. "Because it's a classic Bug response. It's a hundred perfect you. So yeah, it's perfect."

She was silent, trying to compose herself before she exploded.

"By the way, check Twitter."

"Why, are you bragging about me calling you hot?" she teased, hoping to make him blush like she had earlier. It worked.

"Oh my gosh, no. Just look."

She clicked her home button and navigated to the app, her feed instantly flooding with the same similar messages.

"Oh, my gosh," she muttered, her fingers flying away as she typed out her own tweet in response to the love.

Dream chuckled from the other end and when she asked him why, he vaguely said that George texted him but didn't explain further.

"Um, I have to go," she said mournfully. "Karl and Quackity are coming over again."

"Booooo," he pouted.

"Sorry, you aren't the only man in my life," she teased before instantly regretting her choice of words. Too flirty, Y/n, she thought to herself.

"Hm, shame. Am I at least at the top of the list?"

She bit her lips, wanting desperately to repeat what she had told him on their Minecraft date. In the end, she gave in. "I always mean what I say too," she started. "You're my main bitch, baby."

Dream made some sort of sound, a mix of a scoff and a whine but Y/n didn't comment on it, just glowing with heat in her cheeks.

"Leave before I don't let you," he said softly and the heat only grew.

"Goodnight, Dream," she pressed, the tone in her voice letting him know he was being a tease. "Thanks for... thanks for your tweet. And for everything you said earlier."

"Of course. Sorry that you have to see those kinds of things a lot."

"It's okay when I have people like you."

"People like me? What does that mean?"

"Just.... people like you." Cute, sweet, kind, genuine people who make her heart flutter.

She could hear his smile in his words and she figured he knew the unspoken words in her thoughts, the ones she was saying without saying. "Okay. Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight."

**********

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Note

Pregnancy scare with the Batboys?

These all happen at different times in their lives. Dick at 24, Jason 26, and Tim 20 because I feel like that’s the ages they’d like have this.

Warning: it’s gotta little bit of everything. Fluff, smut, convenience story robbery, blood, one little crude sex joke.

Dick

“I stopped at the store and got everything we need before the store comes in. Even got those pad tampon things you use,” Dick said waving the box proudly. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the box.

“And what prompted that?” You asked, eyes narrowed.

“A coupon deal on them,” Dick answered and you laughed.

“That makes more sense. Let me put these up and I’ll cook dinner,” you said, walking to the bathroom.

“Nope! I’m cooking,” Dick said happily.

“Okay,” you said planning to help him anyways.

You walked in the bathroom to put the box in your usual drawer only to find it full. When was the last time you needed one? You did the math and realized that it’s been almost 2 months. With your university schedule being crazy and Dick got hurt a few weeks ago, you’d forgotten all about your period.

You skin chilled at the thought. What if you were- what if you were pregnant? You were too young. You were 24 but it felt too young. You were only dating. You hadn’t gotten to the kids talk yet.

“Hey babe, where is the- what’s wrong?” Dick asked from the doorway. He looked at the package in your hand and the matching one in the drawer with confusion.

“Uh, I missed my period last month,” you said and his eyes widened. “I completely forgot.”

“Oh.”

He looked at you frozen. “Wait- are you saying you might be...”

“Maybe,” you answered. “We gotta get tests and everything. And stress can mess it up. And we’ve been using protection every time.”

“Yeah. I’ll run to the store, okay?” He said before hurrying out the door. You sat on the toilet with the box still in hand. What if you were pregnant? Dick was a good guy but he didn’t exactly have a ton of money. He was a part time gymnastics teacher. You were in college.

“Okay I got 4,” Dick said, back in record time. He gave you the bag and watched you.

“Dick?”

“Hu?”

“Get out of the bathroom.”

“Oh right,” he said, leaving and shutting the door. You could hear him pacing as you took the tests. You unlocked the door as you waited for the tests to finish. A neat little row of absolute terror on the side of the bathtub.

“Are they done?” Dick asked anxiously.

“No. We wait two minutes,” you said almost hollowly with stress and he nodded roughly.

“If you are... I’ll be here. I’ll be here for whatever you decide. No matter your choice,” Dick said holding your hands. You gulped.

“Yeah. Thanks. I can’t believe I forgot,” you said with a little laugh. He hugged your shoulders.

“Things have been crazy,” Dick said with a shrug. Your phone alarm went off and you quickly looked at all of the tests. Negative. You both relaxed. You sighed in relief.

“That would have been crazy,” you said with a laugh. Dick laughed a little too. “I am not ready to be a mom.”

“Yeah. Same. I’d need a better job and a better place. Not that there’s anything wrong with our apartment but it’s too small for a baby,” Dick rambled on. He stopped when he noticed your little grin. “You know, I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you.”

You didn’t answer but pulled him in for a kiss that Dick eagerly returned before finally pulling away because you were in the bathroom surrounded by used pregnancy tests and boxes of menstrual products.

“I’ll clean up while you get dinner started. Yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dick said with a kiss to your cheek.

Jason

You’d been thinking about it for a few days with a sense of denial. Your period was late. And you were mentally freaking out. You were too young. I mean, you were 26 but it felt too young! Your relationship was too new! You had been dating for 2 years but it felt too fast!

You hurried down to a corner store that you didn’t normally visit near your apartment to grab some tests. You jumped a little when the bell on the door rang as another customer entered the store. You had been too worried and stressed about picking from the 7 different types of pregnancy tests. Were they all the same or totally different? You just wanted to know ‘baby or naw.’ You grabbed three and put them in a hand basket.

“PUT your hands up where we can see them,” a man yelled and you froze before looking up, your hands above your head, basket on your wrist. “Take off any jewelry and pull out your wallets. We’ll be taking those,” a man in a ski mask said. There were a total of 12 customers and 2 shop clerks.

You carefully pulled your crossbody bag off your shoulder and held it out. A man grabbed it roughly from you and you made a tiny noise that made him smile. He looked you over and you wanted to shrink away.

There was a loud crashing noise as the side glass was broken and a man with a pair of guns blazing stood in the middle. The bright red helmet let you know that it was Jason and you almost sagged in relief. Almost. He pointed the gun at both criminals and shot at their knees. The rubber bullets hit them both in the knees and they fell before you could even move. He quickly punched them both in the head and they lost consciousness. Jason roughly tied them up by the register and everyone started to leave the building quickly while grabbing their things.

Jason grabbed you and pulled you from the building and up to the roof, basket still on your wrist. He rolled his helmet off and looked you over.

“Are you alright?” He asked holding your face in his hands. You grasped his wrists.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” you reassured him. He looked you over before his eyes fell to the basket. Jason froze as he looked at the contents. A candy bar and 3 pregnancy tests.

“Are you? Why do you have these?” He asked, looking at your face quickly. You sat the basket down.

“Maybe,” you answered quietly. His mouth opened a little as if you speak but he didn’t. “I mean, I’m late.”

“Okay. Alright,” he said nodding. “We just need to test first. God, you were almost shot and you might be pregnant.”

He pulled you tightly in his arms until the armor pressed against you. Jason’s lips pressed against the side of your head. For one of the first times, he looked scared.

Back at your apartment, you could hear Jason pacing as you took the test. You unlocked the door and he came in, staring at them. Neither one of you spoke before the results came in. Negative. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“I would have been there for you. No matter what. But I’m glad that it’s negative. We should plan this stuff, you know? My job... it’s too dangerous,” Jason said carefully.

“I know. We can’t,” you said with a dry smile.

“I’d quit. If you were. So that you and the baby would be safe,” he said and you quickly looked at him.

“You shouldn’t have to,” you said.

“But I would.”

Tim

Tim’s hands were tight on your hips as he thrust in your from behind and you couldn’t stop making little noises. God, were you always this tight? He could barely control himself and the second you clamped around him in pleasure, Tim came as well. Both of you panted as he roughly and slowly thrust through your highs. Tim pushed in deeply before stopping to catch his breath and then pulling out.

“Fuck,” he said in a terrified voice. You turned to look at him confused. “The condom came off.”

Your eyes widened at the implication. “Did you- did you finish inside?” You asked as cold panic flooded your body. You were only using condoms at this point in time.

“Yeah. Definitely,” he said, looking down and in literally any other situation he would have loved the sight before him. His cum leaked out of you and Tim winced.

After a few minutes of trying to finally get the useless condom out, you were almost in full freak out. You were only 20. You couldn’t get pregnant!

“I’ll get plan B. Unless you don’t want it,” Tim said looking at you.

“Good idea. We definitely need that,” you said nodding. “But you can’t go to the store and buy plan B. Timothy Drake-Wayne buys plan B. Playboy like his father Bruce Wayne? I could just see the headline. I’ll go.”

“Smart,” he said. You quickly took a shower and threw on clothes before running down to a pharmacy. Your heart pounded as you asked the pharmacist for a plan B but she simply gave you a box that you paid for. You took the pill before even leaving the store and threw away the evidence as if someone cared what you did.

That night you had some nausea and cramping but were fine otherwise. Tim was extra nice in the next few weeks as you both waited to see if your period would ever come. He put in effort to see you more often and stay off his phone when you were together. Finally you woke up one morning with cramps where actually pleasantly happy to see that you had finally started to bleed. That didn’t happen often.

You told Tim who sagged in relief. He didn’t even know how much tension he held in his body before releasing it. He kissed your cheek and you laughed a little.

“Never buying that brand of condoms again,” he swore.

“I’m making an appointment to get birth control,” you said and he quickly turned to you.

“Really? No more condoms?” Tim said hopefully.

“It’ll take a little while to start working but yeah,” you said with a little smile. “Then I can be your Twinkie instead of your toaster strudel,” you laughed.

“Wow. I wish I could time travel to unhear that,” Tim said covering his face with a hand while laughing.

“You know that’s a good joke,” you laughed pushing his shoulder.

“...yeah,” he said with a grin.

#dick Grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #Jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #Tim drake x reader #Red Robin x reader

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