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vanillaberrychills · 1 month

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part 1 ;; friends, money, soda pop.

various cod x fem! reader fic // chapter featuring: John Price and Simon Riley

cw: (let me know if it needs one)

;; NOT PROOFREAD

— Every job was a dead end. It left you partly convinced you were cursed, somehow predestined to be homeless on the street, shaking a coffee can side to side and hoping a few dollars could buy you a meal. Thankfully, this wasn't an option, you had a good friend who had offered to let you stay in their apartment until you got back on your feet.

It was nice, honestly, a good place to reset, your friend worked an insane amount of hours so it wasn't like you had felt a burden to them. Your friend would reassure you with a kind smile, telling you just consider yourself a house keeper, the home costs are free. You've never been good with that kins of generosity, so you bet your ass you would keep this apartment in tip top shape. Though, there were a few set backs to the apartment complex, such as the shitty soda machine that took your last couple bucks.

You hissed out a curse, kicking the side of the machine swiftly. Maybe you were being a bit petty, sure, but cash was cash. You could have plenty more usea for it than that greedy vending machine bastard!

"Got fucking—" Another thud from your foot hanging in to the oversized lunchbox echoed down the hall, "DAMN IT!"

Your next incoming kick was interrupted by a softly tuttinng voice, "Aye, little miss, don't be damaging my merchandise now."

Your leg stopped mid air, losing balance slightly and catching yourself against rhe machine, face hot with guilt and embarrassment as you stared up at the source of the voice.

Jesus Christ.

He was gorgeous.

Nat in the traditional sense af sharp cut abs orjawline, he was soft, with muscle underneath that softness. His eyes were rather stern though, a mustache accompanying that frown on his face and the cross of his arms being a dead give that he was very upset with you. However, your lingered stare and hitching breath didn't fail to make him smirk just slightly.

You toak it as the signal to talk, not before a small gulp to conceal the crack in your voice, "It took my money."

"S'what the machine does, love." He pushed himself off the wall, walking over to you, practically towering over you. His eyes glancing over to the machine's pricing marks "You didn't give it enough money."

Your cheeks puffed out as a nervous reaction, eyes settling to glare at the non-existent face of the soda bottle, probably taunting you. "It's expensive."

You weren't wrong, five dollars for just about anything and everything.

"Inflation exists." Wow. What an asshole. Just as you were about to chew him out for it, he reaches his hands into his pocket, taking out some money and feeding it to the machine quietly. His hands pressing the button for the drink you wanted. How did he-?

"Yau were glaring at it like it had a face, love." He smirked a bit, the loud crash of the drink falling was the only reason you were able to break your stare from him. You quickly ducked down and took the drink from the machine, praying he didn't notice your shaky hand, or your hot ears and face.

Without meeting his eyes again you mumbled shyly, "Uh..Uhm...thank you...?"

He was silent for a moment; almost as if he were hesitating. It made you glance up with a curious gaze, the expression made him take an uncomfortable step back before he could find his words. "John Price."

Just before you could tell John your name, he swiftly turned around and walked off, leaving you in a stunned silence. How odd. Maybe he was the shy type? The thought made you giggle a bit, glancing down at your soda with a fond smile. Maybe there weren't as many set backs as you thought.

Hours later, you had gotten to enjoy your sweet drink along side reading one of your favorite books. Today was a "quiet" day, one where you had done all your housework and submitted job applications, giving you the free time to do nothing but relax. Which would've been nice, if you could.

Unfortunately, the neighbor's baby was screaming, crying. An absolute melt down, you could hear a panicked male voice, suggesting it was probably some new parent shit, but god, you were so close to cementing your ears. Sadly, you were still invested in an audiobook to go to that extent. But you were pretty damn close!

So you slammed your book shut on the coffee table, took a final gulp of courage from the last of your soda, and got on your slippers. It was practically a stomp down the hall to your neighbor's apartment. You banged on the door like you had a search warrant, and with a few crashes the door was eventually answered. And just your fucking luck, another gorgeous man.

Though, this guy seemed a bit more exhausted than the last, his dirty blonde hair a slightly overgrown mess, eye bags under those stern brown eyes. For some reason, he wore a face mask, preventing you from seeing his expression fully, though you imagined he was about as upset as you.

"What?" He snapped finally, the crying of the kid seeming to grow louder. You sighed softly, pinching your nose bridge.

"Please, make the kid stop crying. I can't hear myself fucking think." You spoke in a surprisingly soft tone, not wanting to trigger another set of banshee screams. The guy glanced back in his apartment and sighed heavily.

"I can't get 'im to stop crying.."

"Well, where's his mom?" The moment you asked the question, his eyes met yours again, a sharp and intense glare that made your lips shut tight. For a moment there was a silence between you two, strictly you two, seeing as the kid still cried.

You then shoved the door open just a bit, stepping in. The guy barely protesting, honestly quite curious what you were planning to do. He followed behind you after shutting the door. You had baby sat before, quite good with kids, honestly. An animal whisperer, if you would dare call it that. So when you approached the little bassinet and cooed a soft greeting, you were not surprised that the baby stopped crying.

You almost laughed, the baby a carbon copy of his father. You reached out and picked the little baby up, gently rocking him in a soothing motion, "Does your daddy not listen to your cries, little one? Oh, you poor thing! Do you want me to beat him up?"

You spoke practically nonsense, just trying to get the little baby to hush up while you bounced and rocked him for a bit. All while his dad stood on the sidelines, finishing up making himself a late dinner. Occasionally you would hear him grumble to his own defense, but mostly silence, maybe relief that there was some silence.

After a few minutes the baby finally burped and fell asleep, making you smirk a bit in victory. You set him down in the bassinet and sighed, stretching your arms out and approaching your grumbling neighbor. His eyes immediately meeting yours and whispering, "I..tried that."

You shook your head, speaking normally, "Don't whisper, you'll make him a light sleeper. And you probably did, but sometimes you gotta burp more than once."

All he could do was bob his head, staring at his still cooking eggs. You wondered if there was a frown under his mask, or if he was smiling in relief. You approached closer to the kitchen, standing next to him with your back leaning against his counter. And then you spoke once more, "What's your name?"

He was quiet for a bit, meeting your gaze with a sigh, "Simon. Simon Riley."

You hummed, nodding a bit as you mentally noted his name. "Where's your wife, Simon?"

He was silent for a moment, the scent of food filling the apartment. Not another word, somehow his silence told you more than his words could have. You softly whispered. "M'sorry."

Simon nodded a bit, "Me too."

God, the silence was so painful, so heavy. You felt uncomfortable, you did practically invite yourself, after all. You considered if this was your signal to leave, and Simon probably did too.

But suddenly your expression unexpectedly brightened, catching Simon's attention. You quickly grabbed a shitty yellow crayon from his counter, writing on a random napkin. Afterwards, you slid it over to him and grinned proudly, "Hey, this is my number okay? If little Simon Jr. cries again, call me, okay?"

Simon's brows furrowed a bit in surprise, then met your happy, smiling expression. You could see his eyes just slightly soften, taking the now folded napkin into his hand, considering it for a moment. "..His name is Riley."

You nodded at his answer without hesitance, "If Riley cries agai— Wait."

You stopped yourself with a puzzled expression, "Isn't..that your last name...?"

"Yeah.."

You groaned into your hands. This guy needed some serious parenting pointers. Just as you were going to scold him, a big, fluffy German Shepard trotted in, big eyes meeting your in a stunned silence. You broke it with a soft croon:

"Dawww, hey little guy, what's your name?" The gigantic pup moved a few steps closer, letting you extend your hand out so he could give it a few "hello" sniffs. You know dogs weren't allowed at this apartment complex, but technically, you weren't really allowed either, so you weren't about to snitch on the fluffy K9.

Simon cut off your thoughts with a raspy set of words, "His name is also Riley."

You visibly grimaced at his words, taking your hand away from the now whining dog. "God, you fucking suck at names, Simon."

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anonymous-dentist · 1 month

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A VERY quick c!Roier/f!Cell oneshot because I can't stop thinking about them

Roier’s day starts normally:

Wake up, check Sally’s crib, make sure Sally’s favorite toys are ready and waiting for when he comes home. Shower, brush teeth, floss. Wash face, eat breakfast, rearrange the fridge so he doesn’t have to reach past Natalan’s heart every time he wants to get the eggs out. Do dishes, check Sally’s crib, make the bed. Check Sally’s crib. Turn on the news, apply eyeliner as he listens to it.

“-If you see this individual, please do not hesitate to reach out to the authorities. He is armed and dangerous. He has been described by the authorities as-”

Check Sally’s crib. Search the apartment for Sally, maybe he’s hiding. He likes to play, he’s such a playful child!! He gets it from Natalan, the little shit.

“-Has been found guilty of ten counts of homicide, though he is currently under investigation for at least thirty more committed between the years of 2013 and 2015. I must repeat, if you see this man, notify the police immediately-”

Connect headphones to cell phone, get dressed. Lock the windows and the doors to the balcony to make sure Sally doesn’t escape and fall to his death. Go to work.

Normal day, normal life, ugh.

The news keeps playing as Roier leaves his apartment and locks the door behind him. He tunes it out for the most part; it’s just there to keep him from thinking too much, because Natalan says that he’s annoying when he thinks too much, and Roier doesn’t want to be annoying. He wants to be married, and he won’t get that by pissing his husband off.

“-Brown hair, blue eyes, and a muscular build-”

Roier stops at a crosswalk with a group of other people, waiting for the light to turn. It’s a bit of a walk to his bus stop, but he doesn’t usually mind it. It’s good to stay active; it’ll come in handy when Sally tries making a run for it the next time they go to the park.

Natalan doesn’t have a job, the lazy piece of shit, so it’s up to Roier to make enough money to keep the family afloat. And it sucks, okay? Because Roier hates working. He’d much rather stay at home and take care of the kids and cook dinner for Natalan and shove it down his throat when he refuses to eat it because, oh, apparently Roier can’t cook! Apparently, Roier is useless!

Yeah, well, maybe Natalan is the useless one. He might be handsome and strong and sexy and intelligent and… stuff… but he could at least clean the apartment every once in a while. Roier is starting to get just a little sick of coming home from work to a dirty apartment; it’s no condition to raise a child in!

The light turns, and Roier and the others cross the street. He keeps to the back of the pack and takes out his phone to switch from the news to Spotify (Natalan’s account, of course!)

He keeps his head down as he walks, mostly because he can’t stand the sight of anybody in this goddamn city. They’re all ugly. They stare at him and judge him for being a single mother and a recovering addict and they’re all assholes and Roier would just love to introduce them all to his beautiful bastard of a husband.

Roier passes an alley. He doesn’t look up from his phone as he tries to pick out a song to listen to. He hates every song on every playlist Natalan has, but he can’t exactly change any of them, can he? He can’t risk Natalan getting angry and trying to leave again.

He doesn’t hear the voice calling out to him. Not above the rush of the city and the beating of his own heart and the screams echoing memories in his mind.

But he does notice the hand grabbing him around the upper arm and yanking him into the alley.

More importantly, he notices a pair of stunning blue eyes, and his heart stops in his chest, and he smiles.

“Hello,” Roier breathes. He pulls his headphones down and rests them around his neck. “You look lost.”

The man in front of him is tall, okay, but he’s also gorgeous. Glittering eyes, scars across his face, fluffy-looking hair. He smells of rust and gore, but Roier doesn’t mind. Nobody’s perfect.

He’s staring at Roier, wide-eyed and curious, and Roier can imagine he feels much the same as Roier does at the moment. In one word, entranced. In two, in love.

Roier clears his throat, very conscious of the hand still wrapped around his bicep. But the man’s grip only tightens, quickly growing tight enough to pinch like the blood pressure cuff at the doctor’s office.

Oh, Roier thinks, he’s strong.

“Do you have a car?” the man asks. His Spanish is accented, but his voice is just ouagh. Deep and raspy and commanding enough for a pit to grow in Roier’s stomach.

Roier shakes his head. “I’m not allowed to drive. Too many accidents.”

Somehow, the grip on his arm grows even tighter- oh, God, does it make his knees go weak.

“But do you have a car?” the man growls, leaning in real close. His teeth bare into something approximating a smile, or maybe a sneer; oh, they’re pointy, that’s fascinating.

Roier hesitates before answering, “It’s my friend’s, but I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow it.”

Natalan won’t mind, that’s for sure. He doesn’t use it anymore, anyway, the lazy piece of shit. All he ever does is lay on the couch and insult Roier and their children, and so, really, it’s only fair that Roier borrows his car.

It’s not like Natalan is using it at the moment, anyway.

The man nods- a simple quick jerk of the head- and drops Roier’s arm just like that.

(Just. Like. That.)

Roier’s arm burns from the sudden cold, but he manages a fresh smile, anyway. He’s prettier when he smiles, he thinks.

“Come on, I live back that way,” he says, pointing to the side with his thumb towards his apartment building. “I mean, I have work in a couple minutes, but they won’t mind me being late.”

“Nah, you won’t be late,” the man assures him. “I’ll be quick.”

Roier wants him to grab his arm again. Roier wants him to touch him again.

“Okay,” Roier agrees.

He’s sure that Sally won’t mind another road trip.

A/N:

Hi!! Thanks for reading, and let me know if you got this far by leaving a comment or a reblog! And let me know if you want more, I wouldn't mind doing more of this au I think

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.

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vodika-vibes · 23 days

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Congrats!!! Could I request diamond with Echo???

You Make My World Brighter

Summary: Echo’s not sure why she chose him, but he does know that he’ll love her through everything, if she gives him the chance.

Pairing: TBB Echo x Reader

Word Count: 700

Warnings: None

Prompt: Diamond - Everlasting Love

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Sorry if this isn't good, I'm fighting a sickness and I tried my best.

The first time Echo met her, it was when he was still with the 501st. She was an artist who stood toe to toe with General Skywalker and yelled at him for ruining artwork that was older than the entire Jedi Order put together, and then she fussed over the canvas as though it was actually her child.

Even then, Echo thought that she was stunning.

But he was a soldier at war, and she was a civilian who was displaced by the war. A relationship wasn’t possible at the time.

Even if her smile gave him butterflies, and the idea of her favoring anyone else with that smile made him borderline homicidal.

Honestly, Echo never expected to see her again.

So running into her on Pabu was a genuine shock.

He knew that she probably wouldn’t recognize him, they barely had one conversation, after all. And he looks different now.

But she looked him in the eye and called him by name, a delighted smile on her face.

Turns out even after years, after torture, and after the end of the war, her smile still gives him butterflies.

That was months ago, now.

And somehow he managed to claim her as his girlfriend. Or…maybe she claimed him as her boyfriend. Honestly, he’s still not sure. They just started spending time together, and then, one day, they were kissing.

Not that he’s complaining. But there was no conversation.

He kind of wishes that they would talk, though. It would be nice to know where he stands with her. Because she’s everything to him.

His gaze drifts over to her, sprawled on the bed next to him with her nose buried in a sketchbook, and a smile crosses his lips. He loves her so much.

She’s still an artist, but she doesn’t use canvas anymore. Instead she inks her art on people’s skin, and she’s good. Very good. She’s given Hunter three more tattoos, though she was very hesitant about continuing his skeleton tattoo.

As much as Echo would love a tattoo from her, she hasn’t offered. And though he asked, she didn’t say one way or the other if she was willing. He’s hoping that this is just a miscommunication and not her not wanting her art on his body.

“I have it!”

Echo starts at her excited exclamation, “Have what?” He asks, watching as she scrambles to her knees and turns to face him, her sketchbook pressed against her chest.

“Your tattoo design!”

He blinks at her, startled, “You’ve been designing a tattoo for me?”

“Yeah, of course!” She turns the sketchbook so that it’s facing him, “Here, take a look. It’s a very…symbolic tattoo.”

Echo takes the book and motions for her to settle next to him as he scans the picture. It's a very colorful field of flowers. “Can you explain it to me?”

“Mm, sure.” He points to the center of the tattoo, “Forget-Me-Nots, fives of them, one for each member of Domino Squad who was stationed on Rishi,” Echo trails his fingers over the five small blossoms in a field of white, and then follows her finger to the next section, “Two forget-me-nots in a field of blue flowers,” She explains, “You and Fives with the 501st.”

Echo releases a soft laugh, “The same yet different?”

She shrugs, “I never saw you all as being the same.” Her fingers skip to the final part of the tattoo, “A forget-me-not and a rose twined together, settled in a field of hundreds of different flowers.” She favors him with a bright smile, “You and me and Pabu.” She explains.

He blinks at her, soft affection swelling in his chest, “So, does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?”

“I thought I already was?”

“You never specified.” Echo admits, “So I wasn’t sure.”

She hums thoughtfully, and then she reaches out and pulls him down into a kiss, “Then let me be clear. I want to be yours and only yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Echo chuckles as he tugs her onto his lap, “So, forever then?”

“Forever doesn’t sound long enough.” She replies against his lips, “But I suppose it’s a good start.”

#star wars #tbb #vodika-vibes 500 followers celebration #tbb echo x reader #echo x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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mastermindmiko · 4 months

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Oblivious

Pairing: Ron Weasley + fem!reader

Word count: 937

Summary: You can't find a date for the Christmas party, and you're completely oblivious.

Warnings: being oblivious and negative thoughts, not proofread.

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

I was the best Potions maker in my year, in all of hogwarts if I'm feeling confident that day, so naturally, I'm invited to go to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party that all members of the Slug-club are invited to.

My dilemma was that I had no date. Hermione told me to go alone, but Ron's word from fourth year (no matter how pathetic) echoed into my head. I did not need Ron to think that I'm pathetic.

Harry was also in search of a date, but when I asked him (desperately), he just turned red and fumbled. I assume that the thought of being my date was just so awful, he couldn't stand it.

I thought about asking Ron, but remembering his kiss with Lavender made me feel an ache in my chest. I didn't know what their relationship status was, so I didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

Not even Cormac Mclaggen asked me, and he's asked everyone. I didn't want to go with him, of course, but why was it that no one wanted to be my date.

When the party was only a week away I started to grow desperate. I asked Dean, Seamus, Neville, but none of them agreed. Maybe there was something wrong with me because a few nights before they were all talking about how much they wanted to go, I told Ron about wanting to ask them, then the next day they all told me they weren't available.

Neville was desperate enough to work at the party, but not be my date. Was serving people tiny confections and drinks more tolerable than evening with me?

I had to find a way to deal with the fact that I was simply undateable and that I would have to go to ball on my own. So, naturally, I curled up into my dorm and cried while eating chocolates.

A knock echoes through the dorm room, and I wipe away any excess chocolate that could've been on my mouth, then I allow the person to enter. Ron says, "Are you okay? Hermione said that you've been crying."

He walks to my bed, and I sniffle. He continues, "I was worried, since you know..."

"Since what?" I ask, confused. He just blushes and waves it off. He hesitates before sitting next to me on the bed. He purses his lips then looks around the room awkwardly.

He points to the dress that's hanging against the doorframe of the bathroom, making sure it doesn't wrinkle. It was an amazing dress, the perfect shade of blue that was a perfect mix between elegant and casual. It was perfect for the party.

"Is that the dress you're wearing to the party tomorrow? You'll look beautiful." He says then flushes. My eyes snap to him at the statement. He stutters, "Not that the dress will make you beautiful - you're always stunning."

"Can we not talk about the party?" I groan, rubbing my face with my hands that I checked were chocolate free. Ron inquires, "Is that what this is about? The party."

I groan and lay back into my bed, back spread on the mattress while my legs dangle off it. I confess, "I don't have a date."

Ron copies my position and looks at me. His face turns into a frown. He says, "I'm sure you'll find someone."

"I haven't been able to find someone for weeks."

"I um I am free tomorrow." Ron says, and I reply quickly, "You'll use that time well and finish that potions homework you've got."

Hos frown deepens, but it's true. The only reason why I'm friends with Ron, Harry, and Hermione was because a few years ago, I was told to tutor Ron in potions.

I think back to the fact that I'm dateless and I let out a singular sob. I feel a tear trickle down the side of my cheek as I stare up at the ceiling. I cry, "Is there something wrong with me? Why does no one like me?”

After my confession, I hear a snort from my right. I whip my head to find Ron smiling at me. I frown, why was he smiling at my misery? “Why are you smiling?"

He doesn't reply, but he looks at me like I'm both an idiot and another way that I can't quite place. I ask, "Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re so stupid.” He chuckles after a beat, and my frown deepens. Nothing was making sense. What did I say that would make me loom stupid? I pout and ask, “What do you mean?”

“You ask too many questions.” Ron, let's out with a smile. The next thing I know is that he's hovering over me with a hand on my cheek and his lips pressed to mine.

I hold his face and kiss him harder. My heart is beating a hundred miles a minute and my stomach feels like its going to explode. I have a sappy smile on my face before I pull away to mumble, sadly, "What about Lavender?"

"What about her?" Ron replies, holding himself up by his forearms that are on either side of me. I pout again and say, "You two kissed."

"That was nothing. I pushed her away afterwards." Ron says, and he looks confused. I smile, knowing that him and Lavender aren't a thing. I say, "Never mind, just keep kissing me."

And he does. He whispers against my lips, "You taste like chocolate." He continues to kiss me like his life depended on it.

I guess I do have a date after all.

a/n: I think that this is one of my favourite confessions I've ever written, I think it's adorable. Also, I'm aware that the GIF is the dinner party, not the Christmas party, but I couldn't find any other relevant ones.

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 10 months

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Always Him : Chapter 13

Word Count : 1.6k

Warnings : swearing, drinking, smoking weed, argument, mentions of sex, making out, brief mention of bullying

“I like this.” Y/n smiled. Hongjoong grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, smiling at her when she started swinging their arms back and forth. She was absolutely beautiful, stunning in a way that makes him desire more. He loves her, he knows he does, he’s said it to her, but he can tell by the hesitation in her actions that she doesn’t believe him.

Why would she? He confuses her. Pulling her into his arms, brushing hair out of her face, telling her she’s beautiful. Kissing up and down her body whenever they’re in bed together. It feels like it’s more than sex. But then he tells everyone they’re just friends. Tells Seonghwa she’s nothing to him.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to take you on a date.” He told her softly. “Being with you is what I want, you know that right?” She nodded.

“I know. I’m patiently waiting for you.” How did he get so lucky with her? He thanks the universe for giving her to him. For allowing her to love him so purely. “Please don’t take too long.” They stopped walking, Hongjoong letting go of her hand so he could hold her face in his hands.

“I won’t. But remember no matter what, I’ll always be yours.” He gave her a quick kiss before letting of her face, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I’m always yours too.”

Her friendship means the world to me. The words echoed in her mind. Clawing at her brain, digging out every insecurity. They taunted her, laughed in her face. Made fun of her for thinking her and Hongjoong were getting somewhere with their relationship. “Should we go home? When I bought you new fishnets, I bought a few other things I’d love to see you in.” He held her from behind, running his fingers up and down her arm, whispering the words in her ear.

“Let go of me.” She said softly, blinking back her tears. Hongjoong did as told, walking to stand in front of her, seeing her wipe away a tear that had rolled down her cheek.

“Hey, hey, look at me. What happened?�� He reached out for her, but she stepped away from him. “Did I fuck up again?”

“Why are you so adamant on everyone knowing we’re just friends? Why can’t you just admit there’s something more?” He glanced down to the phone in her hand, twitter pulled up, his post specifically.

“You know that you’re more than a friend to me, so why doesn’t it matter if everyone else thinks otherwise?” He raised his voice, tired of having this conversation every other day. Tired of having to apologize for the same thing over and over. But he wouldn’t change it if it meant she stayed.

“Because I look like a fool! Like I’m chasing someone that doesn’t want me. Do you know what that feels like? What it’s like to have people stare at you with judgmental eyes, laughing at you behind your back?” He was silent for a moment, processing her words, watching more tears well up until she couldn’t hold them back anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me people were bullying you?” He tried to step towards her again, but she stepped back, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to fix this tonight.

“Would it have made a difference? Would you stop denying us?” Silence. And that was all she needed to hear to know that nothing would have changed. “If you’re embarrassed, just say that. If you don’t love me, stop leading me on. We either go all in, or we go back to being friends.”

“Y/n I told you to just give me time! You told me you’d wait.”

“Just because I said I’d wait doesn’t mean I’d put up with this same bullshit.” He called after her as she walked away, but he didn’t try to stop her. She needs space, needs to be away from him. So he walks home alone, leaving her to walk the streets alone.

San forever a life saver for her. Ever since Wooyoung introduced them, San has been her life saver. Someone she can turn to for help when she feels like she’s suffocating.

“Bubs.” He smiled at her as he took the seat next to her. She immediately clung to him, wrapping her arms around his torso, and resting her head on his shoulder. “Did you want to talk about it?” He brushed the hair out of her face, noticing the obvious redness around her eyes. Anger and worry bubbled up inside of him. How could Hongjoong make her cry?

“Can you just help me forget?” He nodded, ordering a couple more bottle of soju, and promising her that he’ll never leave her, no matter what.

It was a promise she couldn’t believe. It’s the promise Jeongin made to her when they were still kids playing in the playground. Linking their pinkies together and vowing to never let harm come her way.

For years he kept that promise, being by her side, protecting her from everything and everyone. When she met Kayla and Mae in high school, Jeongin was worried. Worried they would one day hurt her, leave her crying like friends in the past. But they proved him wrong over and over.

It was Kayla that helped him realize his feelings for Y/n were more than platonic. And it was Mae that helped him confess. Over the years, I fell in love with you.

But even though his love started out innocent, it turned out toxic. And that very promise he made to her turned out to be their downfall. We promised to be by each other’s side no matter what!

San wasn’t Jeongin though. San was different. San was kind and caring and he loved her so much. He was gentle with her. His voice was always soft. He was comfort in human form. And she would thank Wooyoung forever for introducing them if she could.

“Do you have anymore weed? I could really go for some right now.” Two bottles of soju later, both Y/n and San were drunk. Words slurring together, stumbling as they walked around, enjoying the nice weather outside.

“I always have some.” San chuckled, pulling out a small box from his pocket, and handing her a joint, pulling one out for himself. He pulled a lighter out from another pocket, stepping closer to her, inches away, and lit the joint for her.

She studied his face as he did. Taking in his sharp features. His skin looked so soft, so smooth. And his lips. She stared at them as he lit her joint, her heart picking up pace. She had a sudden urge to kiss him. Wanted to feel his lips on hers. Wanted to feel his hands roam her body and hers did the same to his.

But then he stepped away, lighting his own joint. She couldn’t look away from him though. Studying his entire body, taking in every part, every curve, every muscle. “Like what you see?” San joked, but she just nodded as she took another puff.

She held the smoke in her mouth as she stepped closer to him, lightly grabbing his chin with her thumb and pointer fingers, his mouth opening just enough for her to blow the smoke inside. And then she kissed him.

She kissed him in a way she’s never kissed anyone before. With feverish hunger, with desire. A part of her expected him to pull away, but he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. They pulled away for only a few seconds, putting out their joints, and pulling each other back in.

San had never felt this way before. The way his heart swelled, the way she fit so perfectly within his arms, it felt like they were soulmates. Like they were meant to be together. He’s surprised he never realized it before, that he was in love with her, but it all makes sense to him now.

The need to be with her. Wanting to protect her, wanting to see her happy. He loved when she needed him, loved when she would reach out to him, wanting to spend time just the two of them.

He thought back to the night of the club, seeing her kiss Yeosang. He knew now it was jealousy that compelled him to get everyone back home. Jealousy that made him get so high when he was home, trying to forget that she was sleeping with someone that wasn’t him.

San was in love with her, and if this kiss was anything to go by, she was in love with him too. And when she finally pulled away, her arms still wrapped around his neck, his around her waist, he knew. This was it for him. She was the one.

“We should get back before Seonghwa grounds us like Yunho does with Mingi.” She giggled. And he loved the sound. Could listen to it for the rest of his life.

“I want to stay like this with you for a little while longer.” He whispered, bringing a hand to rest on her cheek, pressing his lips to hers in a small peck.

“I never said this had to end, Sannie. We could always continue this back home.” She’s not sure what came over her. Why she said those words knowing damn well Hongjoong is there, waiting for her. The anger he will exude if he saw her and San like this, it turned her on. But she wasn’t ready to forgive him just yet. So she’ll settle for the next best thing.

Fucking San.

back to masterlist

@mxnsxngie @maeleelee @lethallyprotected @choisoorin @berryblog @anyamaris @nebulousbookshelf @junebug032 @jaydebow @halesandy @okkkcausewhet @dandycharmer @aestheticsluut @the-anarchist-public @kpoprhia @hanschimpmunk @itsmeeekai @grayscorner @weird-bookworm @minhoino @ibedreaminghighupinthesky @kpop-in-new-albion @felixmainacc @yunstarz

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the-wintershade · 2 years

Text

waves come crashing | pattinson!batman

pairing: pattinson!batman x reader summary: you come to help when the arena is taken over by riddler’s men and batman is outnumbered. you take a shot to the chest and batman shows a side you hadn’t thought possible. wc: 3.1k+ genre: a bit angsty, trigger warning: descriptions of blood, worrying!bruce, fluff toward the end, a very competent reader a/n: it’s been so much fun writing for Bruce! that’s all. can’t wait for the next movie

You’d seen the men on the suspended beams long before shots rang out into the crowd. It didn’t take you long to see Batman moving through their ranks, each man disappearing into the darkness.

It had only taken a second for you to start climbing.

There was no way he was going to fight them all by himself. You knew he’d need help.

Gordon and the rest of the department wouldn’t be fast enough. He was too busy protecting the mayor. They wouldn’t miss one other officer among the many other government officials here.

You pulled yourself off the ladder, dropping into a deep crouch, you broke into a sprint, running toward the first person you saw.

Swinging your legs around one of the masked men, you pulled his feet out from underneath him and sent him falling off the edge.

You were already up and sprinting toward the man who leveled the gun at you, closing the gap before he could fire. You trapped the barrel between your arms and turned until you could tuck into his body, using him as a shield from other bullets until you could disarm him.

You took the weapon, peek over the shoulder of the man still folded against your body, and fired a shot at the gunman. He dropped to the ground with a howl. You popped the clip out of the gun you held, attaching the magazine to your hip and discarding the weapon.

The thud of another body made you aware of another party. You only had to see the cape to know who it was.

Your distraction let another many you hadn’t seen whip an elbow across the face. Your body sprawled against the cold metal beneath you. Without hesitation, you snapped your leg out and broke his knee, hearing the metal reverb at the new weight. His scream echoed in the high ceiling.

You barely stood up before, a hand grasped your arm. “(Name)?”

“Bat.” You greeted, nodding at his mask. He looked tired and worn down, his jaw locked with tension and stress. This was worse than you thought.

Wafting smoke from a smoke bomb began to pool around his ankles.

His eyes searched your face. “What are you doing?”

“Helping. You’re outnumbered.” You smirked, looking at the unconscious bodies around you.

“I can handle it.” He peered over your shoulder, jerking his head in the direction behind you. “You should go.”

“Nah.” You swooped around him and roundhoused an assailant with a crowbar, knocking them out and their metal weapon over the ledge. “I think you need me.” The Bat should have seen him but, he was back to doing what he does best — lecturing.

The Bat squinted, trying to register what was going on. By the time the guy collapsed to the ground, you were already unholstering your stun gun. You raised your eyebrows at him as you walked around his tall frame. “Fine,” he mumbled, getting ready to follow you through the smoke.

This partnership between you and the Bat had been going on for a little while now. It started more when he came out to patrol the streets. Gordon peeped how the Bat could be an advantage for the city, but he needed someone else that could cover for him when he wasn’t around.

Being the newbie who could easily take the fall and being close to Gordon, that meant you. It also meant working with the Bat, a vigilante you weren’t very inclined to be interacting with.

It became very clear very quickly that the two of you just clicked.

There was just a flow the two of you had without words needing to be spoken. As you began to get more comfortable, you naturally started to care about each other, but the Bat seemed to have a bigger stake in your safety.

At times, he could be a real hardass about you coming along with him.

This time, he didn’t really have authority over your choices. This was a local law enforcement matter whether he liked it or not.

A pair of arms wrapped around your torso, hurling you to the ground. A startled gasp left your mouth. Your head made contact with the metal walkway before you were able to get your torso free from the man’s grip.

When you looked up and realized it wasn’t the Bat, you began to fight against his hold harder.

“(Name)!” You could see the Bat’s cape turn swoop around the corner of your eye. The smoke behind him began to waver as more shadows started crawling out of it.

“There’s more coming!” The man’s elbow crashed into your chin, forcing your head back and a painful moan out of your mouth. You shoved the heel of your hand into his nose, crushing the cartilage. You felt wet blood coating your hand as you flipped the man over, throwing your fist across his face, repeatedly.

You just put him to sleep when you drew and fired your weapon, stunning one of the men into slumber just as he was about to fire his shotgun. Taking a deep breath, you prepped your stun gun as you stepped into the smoke, trying to find the Bat.

You heard his grunts and were only a moment away before a gunshot went off and his body came flying towards you. He hit you like a projectile, knocking the wind out of your body as the both of you collapsed.

What is up with all of the flying bodies?

It took effort to get him off of you. You grasped his shoulders and rolled over so you were on top of him. You moved to straddle his legs as you caught your breath, your eyes lifting to his face.

You leaned over him. “Hey. Hey.” Your hands gazed over his body for severe injuries, but find nothing but shrapnel embedded in his uniform. “Come on. Come back to me.” Your hands rose to cup his cheeks. You shook him a little, and the little moan of pain that escaped his mouth was the only thing that gave you the will to stand and face whoever it was that sent him flying into you. “Stay here.”

The thing the Bat laying on the ground beneath you didn’t understand was that the protective instinct went both ways. You were already angry before you got off the ground. The only thing that stopped you from flying at his attacker was making sure that he was at least still breathing.

A fist arcs through the air, and you only have seconds to sidestep it before planting a foot in his chest with more force than actually necessary. He went sprawling back but still managed to hold on to the gun. You advanced quickly, trying to gain the upper hand before those shells shoot through the air.

You managed to kick the gun away, but you caught a stray slap to the face. Your skin felt tingly as you blindly reached out to find the weapon. Something sounded like it was discharging and you rolled out of the way just in time to see sparks against the metal beneath you.

It only takes a second to reload.

You rolled your body his way, arcing up to swing your leg across his face. His boot slipped against the last piece of the ledge. You watched the terror spread across his face. His body teetered between safety and the aquatic mess below.

It seemed like the last breath you let out pushed him over. He hurtled down to the water below, a black streak against the blue and red lights.

Looking over your shoulder, you could see Batman trying to stand again and your legs pulled you over to him, concern for his wellbeing swelling up a strong current in you. “You’re alright!” You breathed, a smile coming over your face. His eyes honed on your frame and he seemed to move just a little bit faster, the tension leaving for a moment.

You’d almost made it to him before a force pushed you backward. You’d registered the wet feeling near your stomach even before your fingers were flailing for purchase, grasping onto the metal bars with more strength than needed thanks to a fresh supply of adrenaline.

“No!” It sounded like the Bat, but between how fast the world spiraled by and the way you were about to fall to what would probably be your death below, you didn’t have enough time to decipher the sound.

Quickly, you realized that this wouldn’t last. The wetness turned molten, an agonizing burning sensation near your chest. Even if your arms were stronger than they were, they wouldn’t be enough to compensate for the pain in the rest of your body.

You grunted, sharply and in short bursts, contorting your body to demand the least amount of weight. A boot appeared and then another painful sensation in your fingers, making you let go of the bar. You cried out as your body shifted.

You closed your eyes even before the barrel of the gun leveled with your forehead. The cool metal, despite its danger, was the only respite from the fire threatening to eat you alive.

It was taken away in a flash as your fingers felt a rumble in the metal, making your grasp slip just slightly. Flesh collided with flesh, you could tell from the flat nature of the bursts of sound.

“Bat,” you croaked, using the last of your energy to call for help. Your vision was starting to spot, darkness crowding its edges.

You could feel footsteps coming near you but by that time there were only a few fingers left still holding on. “I’ve got you, hang on.” His voice sounded frazzled and panicked. It was as if his worry was enough to shut you down. Your eyes finally closed.

It might have been because you’d worked around each other enough. It might have been because there wasn’t anyone else you’d fully trust to have your back than him. And if he said that everything was alright, you knew he was going to handle it.

That’s probably why your body thought it was alright to shut down, the pain and blood taking too much out of you.

The Bat was only moments away from reaching down and pulling you up before you started falling. “(Name)!”

Somehow, you registered something solid pressing against you in your delirious descent. You were much too tired to open your eyes. You didn’t even remember hitting the water.

…

“Come back to me. Come on, wake up!” You felt lips against your mouth and a pressing weight against your chest. Everything around your body felt wet.

Then you felt the liquid in your throat.

You spit it up, pushing the water out of your system as your body forced a cough.

You still haven’t opened your eyes yet, but you could feel someone right beside you, arms on your shoulders, helping you roll over so the water leaving your system won’t choke you.

The coughs had hurt, and your chest was sore, but you were breathing.

Then, warm also wet hands pressed against your cheeks. “(Name)?” You knew that voice, but it sounded too desperate for his calm demeanor.

“Bat?” you croaked and then broke down coughing at the water still trying to fight its way back down into your system.

Peeling your eyes open, your breathing stopped when you noticed how close he was to you, his cowl only inches away from your face. The blue of his eyes looked brilliant. “It’s okay,” the hushed nature of his voice made your insides warm, despite the cold cling of your wet clothes. “Everything’s fine. You’re safe.”

He brushed his hand near your hairline, wiping some of the water away in the process. His touch was so gentle. You weren’t afraid of it, but you didn’t know how to process it. His touches always seemed aggressive and rough. This felt like you were seeing a side of him that you weren’t supposed to.

You tried to sit up, but his hand gentle pushed you back down. “You shouldn’t move. Not until we can get someone to take a look at you.”

You’d forgotten about the shot to the chest until a moment ago and when you did the fire began to spread. “What about the others?” Your teeth clenched through the words.

“We’ve taken care of them.” His frown seemed to deepen in the way the corners of his eyes tightened, mimicking your pained expression.

You appreciated his rescue, but you wouldn’t keep him from doing his job. This wasn’t fair to him.

You closed your eyes again, fighting the wave of pain. “There still could be more.”

“They’re doing some additional sweeps.”

“Bat. They need you.”

You knew it. He knew it.

You were supposed to be out there trying to find the others too, but here you were, laying near the wall of water that entered the stadium, fighting for your life with the person who makes the biggest difference in saving the city.

This whole situation felt selfish. “Call someone to come get me. I’ll be fine.”

You could see his lips working, trying to form some rebuttal. His hands even hesitated rubbing soothing circles on your skin. “Come on, Bat. We’ve been good partners, and I’ve gotten to know who you are.” His jaw stopped for a moment, just staring at you with a gentle stillness. “You need to be out there. You need to be with the city. They need you.”

He looked down, contemplating. Then his eyes met yours again just as the pain in your abdomen got stronger for a moment. You grunted out a hiss, and his hands started to frantically ghost over your body. “Where?”

You chuckled shortly. “Where do you think, Bat?”

He stopped and a small smirk colored his face before his lips turned to a serious line. “I can’t leave you.”

The words knocked the wind out of your lungs. You paused, your turn to look grasp for words to say. “Yes, you can.” You tried, drawing out the words softly, spending more time on each word. The pain made that easier.

“I don’t want to.” He stayed just as close, his hands slowly reaching out to cusp your head, thumbs set softly on your cheeks. “I can’t leave until I know you’re away from here.”

You tried your best to nod, taking in this information as best as possible.

Maybe this protective instinct went deeper than you thought. You had a small, budding crush on him for a small moment in time, but you never suspected that he ever felt the same way.

Maybe you were reading too much into things.

Moving as carefully as possible, you placed your hands on his arms, squeezing. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll still be around. Gordon will be around soon. I’m probably going to end up in the hospital, anyway.” You reached up to run a thumb around his jaw, one of the only places of skin you could easily touch. “You’ll come to visit, right?”

His eyes widened for a moment as if startled before a minuscule smile crawled across his lips. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” you drawled, your strength starting to leave you again. Slowly, your eyes closed, but his soft utterance of your name jolted you out of full sleep.

“(Name)?” Your eyes just barely opened before his lips brushed against yours, sealing your eyes shut as you worked to move yours in sync. It took a lot more out of you than you realized as your head lolled back against his hands. He cradled your body delicately as you blacked out.

…

It was warm and dry. It beat the cold, wetness that soaked through your skin before, and the way everything felt wrong.

Well, not everything. There was one bright spot in this whole saving the city thing.

You hear a beeping and know there’s a needle in your hand from the poking sensation every time you try to move. Hospital. This soft thing you’re laying on is probably a bed.

You tried to roll over and get a better sense of your surroundings, but the thick limbs next to you kept you from doing so. Your frowned, trying to get a better angle on the face with the dark, black hair.

His eyes were shut in, but you could recognize the shape of his arms and the look of his lips.

You cleared your throat a couple of times before speaking. “Bat?” It was a shot in the dark, but it was worth it. You had to get somewhere.

His eyes peeled open, looking exhausted before seeing you and brightening, his forehead smoothing over as he took you in. His lips curled up in with unforced ease as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, and you look different.” You scanned his eyes, trying to reach for a name just on the tip of your tongue.

His hand reached up to push some of your hair back, smoothing down the wisps, pretending to stay calm as you were about to decode his identity.

“Bruce. Bruce Wayne.” You uttered, placing a palm against his cheek. He nestled into it, closing his eyes before kissing it. Your insides turned to a warm liquid. “So you’ve been my partner this whole time.”

He nods, keeping his eyes closed. “Hey,” you utter, eager to see those blues again. His eyes flash open, locking on your face. “Thank you, for having my back.”

He blinked for a second, before shifting toward you and sliding an arm around your back so he could hold you closer. You’re pressed fully against his chest before he speaks again, the reverberations of his voice spreading through your chest. “Thank you for believing in me.”

Your wrap an arm around his torso and hold him closer. “That’s what partners do.”

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before he pulled back, placing a hand on your cheek. He scanned over your face in adornment. “That’s what we do.”

You blushed, ducking your head down, but Bruce didn’t let you do that for very long. After a second, his fingers guided your face back up and closer to his as he pressed another kiss against your lips, pressing closer to you this time, much more confident and intense this time.

Your lips were both red and a little puffy when you pulled back. Your eyes slowly fluttered open. Your breaths came in small pants. “So does this mean that you like me?”

He scoffed and smiled at you. “I think so, yeah.”

“Great, cause this was going to be really awkward if you didn’t.”

He shook his head and nuzzled against your cheek. “God, you’re impossible.”

“You love it.” You uttered and then froze at your choice of words.

But he just leaned and pressed a kiss against your cheek, running a finger down your skin. “Yeah, I do.”

battison tag: @johnny-pie

#battinson x reader #battinson fic #the batman/reader #battinson #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne/reader #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne fic #the batman x reader #battinson imagine #battinson imagines #battinson angst #battinson fluff

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entomolog-t · 3 months

Text

INSTAЯ (4)

Technically a SUPER late promtober prompt (Puzzle)

Thank you to everyone who's been asking about INSTAЯ! As a lil treat I thought I'd post this before coming off of my writing hiatus.

Also HUGE thank you to @imber-rose for their AMAZING FANART of Bram and Honey???? I am SO FLATTERED???💕

I give you - charades, anxiety, and the magical art of tidying up.

This chapter deals with the unforseen messes left in the wake of sci-fi mishaps (both literal and mental) so please take a peak at the content warnings.

Taglist: @imber-rose

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Chapter 5

Word count: 4230

CW: Gore (descriptions of viscera and butchering), mild body horror, mild panic/anxiety, vague dehumanization, Adult language.

Almost as quickly as the panic had come- it was gone. He’d gone silent in my grasp, having slumped to the floor, leaning with his back against the palm of my hand- still draped loosely around him. He never once looked toward me- instead he stared blankly forward, mind clearly elsewhere as his …mouthparts and antennae twitched with some sort of agitation.

Without warning, his tiny frame jerks upright, shoving himself out from the tangle of my hands and making long strides towards the notepad, chittering to himself as he paced. His gaze flicks to me briefly, before all too quickly turning away. Hefting up the pen, he leans it against his shoulder- both sets of arms working to stabilize the awkward writing utensil in his grip.

H…I…D…E

My stomach drops- the hastily scrawled word sending a chill through my spine. Before I can question the message, he clicks, drawing my attention back to him. He points to the word, then to himself, before clasping his hands together, as if… praying? No- begging.

“Hide you…” My voice is almost a whisper, “From what? Where? I- I don’t- What’s going on?” I can feel my voice raising as I flood him with questions, as if some mental dam had burst. Though, much to my frustration, he holds up a hand, a sharp series of distinctly aggravated clicks interrupting me. Shushing me. He shakes his head- dismissing my questions. Instead, he points to the pile of the discarded exoskeleton in the kitchen, then toward the direction of the living room. Before I’m able to ask for clarification, he resumes writing.

B...U…R…N

A dryness fills my mouth. I swallow. A single word forms in my mouth,

“W-why?”

Each letter feels as though it takes an eternity to take shape as he struggles with the pen. Dan? Dang?? My face falls, realization hitting me.

D… A…N…G…E…R

As he finishes the last letter, he turns, pointing the pen towards me.

“M-me?” I stare at him, stunned- unsure of what to say, “N-no, I - I’m not-”

He huffs- handing off the pen to his lower set of arms as he dramatically gestures with his primary pair. Arms outstretched towards me he makes a loose fist with one hand, and with the other he shoves his fingers into the first in an almost crude gesture. He does the gesture again, this time even more exaggerated, fingers making an arching path towards his fist.

“Inside?” He shakes his head, chittering with annoyance. He teeters a hand back and forth making a so-so gesture before pointing to me, replicating the unknown sign and then pointing back to danger.

“I.. I’m… in-” All at once it clicks- my heart stopping in my chest with the realization, “I’m in danger.”

He nods vigorously. I swallow the quickly building feeling of unease in attempt to squeeze out simple yet poignant question;

“From… you…?”

He hesitates for an uncomfortable moment before bobbing his head side to side, repeating the so-so gesture. A knot tightens in my stomach, a feeling of unease twisting and snaking in my gut as if my insides had been turned to eels desperate to escape the confines of my body.

“From that??” My heart races as I point to the remnants of his shed exoskeleton. Was it toxic? I touched it- Honey had chewed on it -

He shakes his head.

He points to me, and as if on cue I echo the verbal component to the sign.

“I…”

He points to his head.

“Head?... Brain? Think-” He abruptly holds up his hands, halting me from continuing guessing.

“I think…” Nodding, he then points to himself, then to danger.

“I think you danger?” My brows knit together in confusion at the stunted sentence. He repeats the gestures, this time adding a long pause before pointing to danger.

“I think you; Danger?” Even though he nods, I feel lost. Was I supposed to follow? He repeats the sign for think, followed by slowly pinching his finger and thumb together, then giving me a thumbs up.

“Think small.. Good” I say almost to myself, before attempting to somewhat correct the sentence, “Think little; good.”

I think you; danger. Think little… good??

What the Hell was that supposed to mean?

I mull over the words, trying to make sense of them.

I think about you, danger- think less is good… dangerous to think? Dangerous to know..?

I freeze- the garbled sentence suddenly seeming to click. A much clearer phrase reinterpreting and replacing the stunted translation of his signs.

“It's dangerous to know too much. The less I know the better?”

He claps his hands together, giving me a ridiculous four thumbs up. He drops his hands, looking away for a moment before seemingly reconsidering. He holds up a single closed first, slowly raising his fingers one at a time until he reaches four, before pointing to his wrist as if asking for the time.

I smile, a weird sense of pride bubbling up as I feel myself starting to get the hang of this strange guessing game.

“For now.” He nods, and I continue, “Can I at least know your name?”

He looks startled at the question- his tail swishing back and forth as he considers. With the unwieldy pen in hands, one at a time he points to a handful of letters he’s already drawn out;

B… R… A… M

“I can’t say it’s been nice to meet you, Bram.” I say with an awkward chuckle. My chuckle turns to a genuine laugh as one of Bram’s many hands flips me off, the casual human-ness of the gesture looking almost comical when juxtaposed with his less than human physique. Carefully, I pinch the obscene gesture between my thumb and forefinger, suppressing a cringe at the all too insect-like feel of his appendage. The texture somehow both hard and thin- something between an eggshell and dried leaves.

“Dawn Delacroix” I say, giving his hand a gentle shake, “How can I lend a hand?”

Bram pulls his hand away to immediately begin gesturing again. His gestures are sharp and insistent as he points to the word hide, then himself, before repeating his signs for four and now.

As soon as I nod, he continues, gesturing to shush, pointing to burn, and once again signing now.

“Burn it now and keep quiet about this - right?”

Bram chirps, nodding. I nod along. I comprehend the message, yet internally my mind is whirling.

What the fuck was I getting myself into… Hide him?? From what? Why was I burning the…- was I burning evidence??

With a deep inhale, I force the questions to the back of my mind. Just get him out of sight for now. One thing at a time.

I eye the strange little man up and down, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

“When you say 'hide’ you don’t just mean keeping you in the house, eh?” I note, my brow furrowing, “Like, you want me to hide you like ‘my house is going to get searched’ hide you?”

Slowly, he nods.

Despite suspecting the answer, I feel the blood drain from my face all the same. Instinctively, I go to chew on my thumb, stopping myself with a grimace before actually biting down.

“Fuck. Okay. Right. This is- It’s fine.” I lie. My mind is a freeway of thoughts rushing past me- and I’m stuck feeling like some poor animal dodging transport trucks.

Why was he .. like this?

What happened to him?

Why were people after him?

Had he escaped something? Hurt someone?

I had somehow come to have tasked myself with protecting him from some unknown entity without knowing a single thing about the situation. What kind of people pleaser bullshit was this? I was in way over my head. This was dangerous- yet here I was diving in head first.

As I tried to shake the questions from my thoughts, one seemed to stay stuck- as if it had somehow become a permanent fixture in the forefront of my mind;

Should I really be doing this?

Despite all that I want to tell myself, I know I don’t have an answer.

Restless, my hand drags along my face and I aggressively rub at my brow as if forcing my face to relax would somehow force me to relax as well. Unsurprisingly, the action is utterly useless. Fuck. What am I doing? What if I’m in trouble? What if I make things worse? How am I supposed-

There's the sudden sensation of contact- an involuntary shiver shoots down the length of my spine.

As if pulled back to reality from his touch, my eyes fall onto Bram- one of his tiny hands laid on top of my own. He stood, looking up at me with what I could only assume was concern in the inky black of those far too many eyes. A shudder creeps its way across my neck- feeling all too similar to the sensation of an insect crawling on my skin. His touch made my skin crawl- it was uncanny in far too many ways. So human, yet so …. Not. He himself was too hard, yet his touch too light. It lacked warmth, not in intent, but physically lacked the warmth of human touch. His clawed fingers felt as though a pin was being dragged on my skin, not painful… but catching.

As if some primordial instinct takes hold I yank my hand back, fingers curling into a fist as if to hide themselves from the unexpected and unsettling contact.

Bram’s antennae fold down, his hand still hanging limply in the air where mine had been not a second ago. The sight of him sends a wave of guilt crashing over me. With a forced smile, I let my hand relax in front of him, awkwardly pretending as if I hadn’t just cringed away from his touch.

For some reason unbeknownst to me, my mind wanders back to his horrified reaction to his… current state. The way he’d cried into my hand- the feeling of helplessness that washed over me... Being able to do nothing but offer what little comfort I could. My stomach twists as I think of him trying to do the same for me. This had to be horrifying for him… For all my feelings of helplessness, I couldn’t imagine a fraction of the helplessness that he must be going through.

I exhale. The act seeming to catch him off guard- his antennae shooting up as he regards me.

Now was not the time to chew on these heavy questions. He needed help, I would figure the rest out later.

Man, I need a drink-

As soon as the thought enters my mind it's as if it sets a cascade of dominoes in motion. I’m met with teenage memories of Clyde and his buddies sneaking whatever alcohol they could scavenge into some ridiculous hiding spot he'd jimmy rigged straight into the drywall behind his bed.

I smile.

That could work…

"Let's get you hidden, Big Man." His eyes narrow at the impromptu nickname, but he keeps his chirps to himself. I move my hand towards him before we both simultaneously pause, likely sharing one very awkward thought;

How was this going to work?

In something weirdly akin to two people trying to walk past one another but unsure of which direction to pick, we both continued in an awkward stop-start motion.

"Here- uh, just let me-" I slid my hand behind him, scooping him at his knees. Rather than calmly remaining seated, a shrill chirp was all the warning I had before he began scrambling in my grip, his weird insectoid claws gripping into my skin in a way that, while not physically painful, was mentally disturbing.

"Woah, woah- Bram!" My free hand shoots up to block the edge, as if he were some frightened animal about to jump to "safety." Instead, all four arms latched onto my finger, squeezing with a significant amount of force for his size. My brow furrows as I regard him,

"You good?"

His head swivels, looking over his shoulder and back at me with a palpable anger in those tiny eyes. He let out a string of strained chirps, and despite not understanding a word he was saying, it didn't take much to understand it was littered with profanity.

"Not a fan of heights, I'm assuming?" If looks could kill I'd be dead last week. In a gesture that needed no translation, Bram flipped me off.

As he tugged against my finger, I took the hint and curled my grip around him- wincing at the uncanny sensation of him in my grasp. It felt like holding a particularly large and eerily human-shaped beetle. Though, despite my own discomfort, Bram seemed at least somewhat more at ease in the security of a closed fist.

I took a step.

Immediately his primary set of arms were once again gripped onto my finger, claws digging into the meat- not enough to break the skin, though I assumed that courtesy was unintentional. At my movement, I heard the telltale jingle of Honey's collar as she padded to my side- clearly excited at the notion of some sort of activity other than gnawing on discarded exoskeleton.

Bram chittered nervously at her approach. I pull him close to me, making sure to hold him out of reach as Honey circles us, tail wagging with excited curiosity.

"Don't worry," I say, trying to put his nerves at ease, "She's a good girl, I promise- just a little excited after… everything."

Though even as I say that, thoughts of Honey snapping at June bugs fill my mind- the nasty crunch they would make when she eventually caught them seemed to ring in my ears. I swallow dryly.

Maybe it was best not to leave her unattended with him.

In the least obvious way I can manage, I shoo her away, nudging her with my foot as she circles around me. Honey somewhat acquiesces to my unspoken command, opting instead to trail behind me, still noisy but thankfully not nearly as pushy.

Good enough. The thought feels like the mental equivalent of a sigh.

As I walk, I can’t help but notice how he flinches with every step, his whole body bracing as though I’d suddenly forget how to carry something. His tail flicks with what little room he has under my snug grasp, yet he remains quiet, eyes glued straight ahead as I make my way to Clyde's old room.

He all but dives off my hand as I move to set him down on the floor beside me, quickly moving himself out of the way as I join him on the floor. A flock of dust bunnies scatter as I reach under the bed, groping around for a solid spot to grip the small section of discreetly altered baseboard.

A smile crosses my face as the "door" swings open- immediately vanishing as my eyes fall on the interior of the wall. My smile is replaced with horror at the sight of empties littering the length of the inner wall- empties undoubtedly left from Clyde's long since passed teenage years.

"Well look at that! Your room even comes with its own bar." I catch a whiff of the sour smell and grimace. Bram’s inky black eyes glare back at me, and even with his lack of visible sclera, I had no doubt he had rolled his eyes at the remark.

"I'm sorry-” I chuckle awkwardly, mortified at the sight, “Brothers aren't really known for being the cleanest of creatures." Unable to add anything of note without the aid of the pen and paper, Bram shrugs, offering a half hearted thumbs up in response. His talon-like claws click softly on the wood floor as he moves to investigate his potential temporary residence.

"You know," I feel a smile tug at the corners of my lips, a small half laugh slipping out at the strange turn of events, "When I first found you this morning I was terrified at the thought of you escaping into my walls."

His antennae perk up, oddly reminiscent of eyebrows raising in shock- or, more likely, offense. That distinction was made much more clear as he proceeded to flip me off while buzzing angrily, the sound somewhere between a phone vibration and a particularly offended bee.

His casual demonstration of profanity for some reason or other, put me at ease. I chuckle, the tension leaving my body, if only for a moment.

“I'll be back soon.”

Without further charades, I close the door, sealing Bram inside the wall. Part of me feels a pang of guilt for not thinking to grab some sort of light, but beggars, as well as potential fugitives, can’t be choosers. As I push myself back to a stand- physically feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on me. A nagging urge to stop and critically think about what on Earth had transpired itches at the edge of my mind- yet I refused to scratch. There was a sort of mental momentum I had built up, a series of tasks to complete one after the other, and the knowledge that the moment I stopped to pick apart the situation in its entirety said momentum would send me crashing into reality.

We can panic about this later. One thing at a time.

One foot in front of the other, I tear myself from the room- away from the strange little man who probably had all the answers, yet none of the words, or willingness, to share them. Honey reluctantly follows, letting out a soft whine in protest the same way she would if I were to take away a toy or an old bone. I grimace at the comparison.

Yeah, let's not leave her alone with him.

________

I surveyed the sci-fi nightmare my home had become. Kitchen to livingroom, various degrees of carnage were scattered, and worse yet, splattered, around across the floor. With no small effort, I resist the urge to gag. My once beautiful hardwood was littered with discarded… parts of what had apparently once been Bram. The cracked bits of his outer shell, while undeniably gross when I thought too much about it, were not that bad.

It was the flesh that made my skin crawl.

I was no stranger to flesh. Hunting had long since suppressed my gag reflex when it came to viscera… and yet that was precisely what made it worse. I knew what it should be. I knew how it should feel… and that knowledge left me deeply aware of just how wrong everything was.

It was the colours that I noticed first.

Some flesh seemed almost normal, save for something uncanny with the degree of saturation, but the more I cleaned, the more oddities I found. Pieces of flesh so deeply red they neared the point of being back. The pieces far too tough, almost solid to the touch.

Everything was coated in a strange slick opalescent mucous. Everything had this odd iridescent sheen. Though the fluids weren’t limited to the unnatural looking mucus. For a lack of better terminology, there was a general… ooze. A sickly blend of various fluids; an opaque pale yellow transitioning into some sickly greyish green… and red… so much red the floor looked black until disturbed by my frantic wiping.

What… what was all this?

What parts of him?

My stomach churned. The shed remains weren’t all just one consistency. There were… shapes in the flesh, lumps in the ooze. Whatever the inconsistencies in the gorey sludge had once been was impossible to tell, the lumps having lost much of their shape as if degraded by something.

My eyes flashed to my gloves- thankfully, still intact.

I sigh, wincing as I inhale the strange stale smell that had undoubtedly bled into the flooring. It wasn’t particularly foul, in fact, it was almost familiar, which in itself made it far worse- the smell of raw meat.

My throat clenches at the thought, and I struggle to suppress the involuntary response to start dry heaving.

Don’t think. Just clean.

No different from gutting a deer.

No difference at all.

My hands move idly, picking up piece after horrific piece. The pile dwindles, replaced by a collection of dangerously heavy garbage bags in the center of the room, leaving nothing but the slowly congealing ooze to tackle. Armed with a worryingly complex array of disinfectants, I begin working away at the fluids.

My stomach churns as I try desperately to force my brain to think about anything else aside from the liquid carnage I’m sopping up with a month's worth of paper towel. Anything at all.

Though the ‘anything’ that seems to permeate my mind, while less disgusting, is no less worrisome.

Just what was happening? My teeth dug into the flesh of my lip as I scrubbed harder, as if the answer lay somewhere under the layers of-

Was Bram really human? He seemed human... Maybe? His mannerisms were normal enough, save the extra appendages. But if he was human…

Why was he hiding? A distinct anxiety began to swell in my chest, and with it, a much more worrisome question came rising into my throat

Just who was he hiding from?

…and how long until they got here?

_______

For all my monumental efforts in cleaning, it seemed as though Honey lived to do the opposite. Her fur, once a light golden color, was a horrible mishmash of the various fluids that had been splattered across my floor. Snout to tail she was caked in a thick mucosal slime that had rapidly begun to crust over as it dried, becoming flaky and, ugh, crunchy.

From behind the filth, Honey stares up at me, her warm brown eyes filled with an innocent pleading as I stare down the nozzle at her- my finger hovering on the trigger.

She whines softly.

I don't hesitate.

Without a second thought, I spray her down- holding tight to her collar as she squirms in my grip, the cool spray from the hose apparently far less appealing than the rapidly decaying innards of some sci-fi mishap. I empty a container of dawn dish soap over her as she whines in protest, all the while desperately hoping that if Dawn worked for ducks in oil spills it’d work for dogs in biohazards as well.

From I could tell, it seemingly had done the trick.

As I finished rinsing her off, Honey finally managed to wriggle free, zipping off to dart around the yard to run off her offense at, God forbid, being clean.

My eyes hesitantly left her, moving to scan the lengthy driveway. I was almost expecting to see some unmarked government vehicle driving down to come and interrogate me.

How much time did I have before someone showed up? What was I even supposed to say? Hell- what were they going to say? ‘Hey Ma’am, have you seen a strange bug-person-thing in the area?’

A shaky breath blew past my lips as I forced out any hypothetical thoughts.

We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.

My eyes flick towards the stack of pallets and scrap wood leaning up against the garage.

But first we have more important things to burn.

__________

The warmth of the fire pricks at my skin, or maybe it was the lingering bits of Bram sludge and it's undetermined acidity slowly burning through my skin-

With an exhale, I banish the thought before it can fully form.

Everything’s fine. Kind of. Not really. I was harboring what was more and more in hindsight seeming like some fugitive alien or awol government experiment within the walls of my home. There was no way this wasn’t some type of felony, right? I was tampering with… evidence? A crime scene?

What even was this?

I massage the bridge of my nose, my eyes immediately watering at the remaining smell of gasoline on my hands- no other reason.

The fire continues to blaze on, the occasional pop and hiss emanating from the rapidly shrinking pile of charred remains. Around me, birds sang. I could hear the trill of chickadees and vireos as they hopped along the edge of the treeline. A soft breeze whispers through the foliage, rustling the leaves scattered on the ground. The early morning fog seemed to ease and give way to the everwarming rays of sunshine…

I took a deep breath.

Aside from the pungent odor of gasoline, there was a freshness in the air, as there so often was in fall. A crispness to the chill entering my lungs, with the sharp scent of evergreen dancing on each breath. I held out my hands, letting the heat from the fire soak into them.

It was turning out to be a beautiful day- clear skies, with the sun passively warming the October air. The atmosphere seemed to set a precedent. A subtle nod that everything would be okay.

I exhaled.

Maybe everything really would be fine.

A soft vibration at my side pulls my attention to my phone.

In my chest, my heart turns to ice- a sinking feeling of dread washing over me as I read the notification.

Trail Cam Alert: Movement detected by NW BOUNDARY CAM at 8:06 am

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sleptrn · 1 year

Text

Opera x fem!Reader (Fluff)

-tired opera, sleep deprived opera, comfort, caretaking, gentle kisses, comfort kisses, gentle words, cheesy lines, hand holding, back hugs, admiration, basically fluff on top of fluff.

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

enjoy :)

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

It was a boring, uneventful day. Opera was sitting by the couch as usual, sipping on his cup of Hell's Grey Tea after a long day of tolerating and managing that tiring, god-forsaken principal. He clearly didn't get any sleep last night, it's quite obvious after seeing how concentrated his dark circles look.

He looks exhausted and miserable, yet he still assures anyone who checks in on him that he is fine. He assured them that he doesn't have the need to nor the time to sleep, and that he's perfectly alright. Well, that's certainly a lie... but he doesn't want anyone to worry about him.

He slowly takes a sip of his tea, attempting to suppress his fatigue with some caffeine.

'Ring! Ring!'

He slightly flinches at the sound of his phone.

"Ah.." He sighed as he placed his teacup down gently and reached out for his phone.

Seriously... What exactly does Sullivan-Sama want from me n-

Oh.

Opera stared at the screen blankly.

He blinked once, then twice. At this point he was so tired that he had to narrow his eyes to make sure he wasn't daydreaming...

Then, it finally clicked to him.

Indeed, it wasn't Sullivan calling Opera, it was ( y/n). Opera's beloved. Opera's one and only.

His ears perked up slightly at the thought of talking to (y/n). Without any hesitation, Opera picked up the call.

"Hello?" (y/n)'s gentle voice echos from his phone.

"Hello (y/n)..." Opera pressed the phone against his ear softly.

"Opera...Hey. How are you?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm doing well.." he replied.

"Are you sure? You sound tired."

"I'm fine."

"Opera, be honest with me...." (y/n) sighed.

"...I'm actually fine though." he tried to reassure.

"You don't sound fine... Did you overwork yourself again? Did you pull an all nighter? Did you even get any sleep? Oh god, please don't tell me you're currently only running on caffeine..."

Opera remained silent, unsure of what to say as everything she just said was true. And though he doesn't want to worry her, he doesn't want to lie to her either.

"...sigh. I knew it. You're back at the mansion, right? Stay, I'll be right there."

(y/n) hanged up the call almost immediately.

What?

Opera just sat on the couch, stunned.

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

A few minutes later, (y/n) arrived at the mansion. She welcomes herself into the huge building, already knowing where every door or hallway leads to as she swings by there often to visit Opera.

Since she frequents the mansion so often, everyone knows who she is. Thus, she really didn't have any sort of trouble reaching Opera.

(y/n) swinged open the living room door and locked eyes with a tired Opera.

God, he looks awful.

Not in a bad way.

In a 'he looks like he hasn't slept in weeks' way. Though, that is also quite bad.

"Oh my god, Opera..." She sighed.

Opera smiles slightly, exposing his heavy eyebags. His ears are no longer perked up and he's still holding onto his cup of tea.

"Hey, love." He smiles.

He then slowly turns around and places down his teacup. Ready to form a facade to convince (y/n) that he's fine.

But before he could turn back to face her again, (y/n) quickly ran up to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

Opera froze.

"...(y/n)?" He asked in confusion.

"Opera, you have to stop pushing yourself so hard like this.." She sighed, nuzzling her face into his back.

He slightly chuckles. "Don't worry about me, this is normal for someone working under a demon like Sullivan." He smiled slightly.

"I know. I know that. I know you're used to it... And I know it's normal. But that's no excuse to neglect your body and your health. Please, at least take this one day off and rest?" (y/n) tightens her grip around him pleadingly.

Opera stays silent for a moment, then sighs. "....Alright then. I'll take a day off to rest."

He turns around and gently held her hands in his.

"You know..." He rubs small circles around her palms, massaging them affectionately.

"I don't usually take a day off to rest... Well, I don't usually take a day off to do anything, really. But, I've already promised myself that if I were to ever take a day off, I'd spend it with you..." He says softly, slightly flustered.

(y/n) blinks in confusion. Huh?

"Why would you want to spend it with me?"

"Because, well.. when you think of day offs, you think of relaxation, fun and spending time with a person you love and cherish dearly... Believe it or not, you fit all those categories for me. Your mere presence helps me relax... I have fun doing anything as long as I do it with you... And you're a person I love and cherish dearly... So..." He looks away shyly.

After hearing Opera's sweet words, (y/n) gets slightly flustered and can't help but smile brightly. She held his hands in her own and interlocked their fingers affectionately.

Opera smiles and flushes a little before giving in to the gesture.

He has a tendency to give in to whatever (y/n) asks of him. How can he not? She's his one precious love, after all.

He bends down slightly before bringing up their interlocked fingers and planting a gentle kiss onto (y/n)'s hand.

He then smiles and proceeds to pull (y/n) closer, so close that she can feel his breath hitch.

He first plants a gentle kiss to her forehead, then the tip of her nose. Then, he slowly makes his way to her jawline...

(y/n) chuckled as he pulled away. He silently admired the beautiful gem in front of him as she gently caressed his face.

They both stared at each other longingly for a while. Admiring one another and feeling their love for each other grow by each passing second.

No longer holding back, Opera placed a hand on her waist and pulled her in for a nice, slow kiss.

It was a very gentle yet passionate kiss. They weren't rushing, they weren't trying to gobble each other up lustfully...

They were just expressing their love for one another and embracing each other lovingly. Holding onto each other as if they might never see each other again if they let go. As if there won't be a tomorrow.

Clearly, they are both going to see each other again tomorrow. They're just hopeless, clingy romantics.

But by doing such affectionate things with the one person he loves most, and by having (y/n) care for him.... Opera already feels his fatigue slowly fading.

As long as I have (y/n), I feel like I can get through anything...

I love her so much.

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

-The end 🤠 -

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

OKAY IM AWARE MY ENGLISH ISNT THE BEST ESPECIALLY HOW I KEPT SWITCHING FROM PAST TENSE AND PRESENT TENSE BUT HEY WE GOT RHE FLUFF AND THATS ALL THAT MATTERS...

hope you enjoyed this!! Sorry for any grammar mistakes I'm currently half asleep and do not have the energy to proofread🥲

Follow me for more content like this (maybe) ✍️

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xo-katana · 9 months

Text

✧.* | When You Protect Miles From Your Husband

“Y/n move the hell out of my way!” Miguel spits out in a rage, the veins on his neck visible as his talons remain on display, his face is inches away from Y/n who stands tall and confident while shielding Miles Morales from her husband.

She shakes her head while backing up into a corner with Miles who seems stunned by the anger admitting from Miguel right now. “Pinche pendejo Miguel! This isn’t right.”

Miguel let’s out a low groan, sighing deeply before yelling straight into her face. “You think I like doing this?! I don’t always fucking like what I have to do! But I know I have to do it! So move!” His yell echoed as his red eyes continue to glare at his wife.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you hurt him mi amor. I can’t let you do this.” Her voice cracking as she uses her powers to create a protective shield around Miles.

He does not take this information lightly. His fist clenched, his knuckles white underneath his talons as he punches the nearest wall, the concrete of the area he’s punched plummets to the floor as he practically growls in anger. “Just what the fuck are you trying to do?!”

Y/n looks over at him with a selfless look on her face. “He’s a child Miguel! Just look at how much losing our daughter has changed us! Miles will go through the same thing if we let his father die!” She yelled out with tears filling her eyes.

The look in Miguel’s face softens as he listens to his wifes’ concerns. Something in his mind clicks as he sees tears welling in his lovers eyes. “Not everything has to be done so violently. So I am letting Miles go. You or any Spider-hero that even tries to pursue him, I will handle myself!” Y/n wipes her tears before leading Miles away from her husband and HQ.

Miguel watches as they walk off. Hobie walks up and places a hand on his shoulder, an amused grin from his face. “You should probably apologize.” He walks off and leaves Miguel stunned and flustered.

Hours pass and Miguel is back in his office. Frustrated and angry with his wife, Miles, and even himself. He looks forward into his holographic screen. A photo of his family, a photo where he looked happy and healthy. His mind seems to wander as his wife walks in with a knock. “Miguel?” Her voice was soft and weary as she wasn’t sure what mood Miguel was in.

She inches closer as his back faces her. “Miguel…please talk to me.”

Miguel hesitates for a moment before he turns around to wrap his arms around his wife who for a second, doesn’t do anything. With a sad grin on her face, she wraps her arms around his waist, her head resting on his chest as they embrace each other as if nobody else existed.

Both are silent yet an understanding between the exchange was established. Though it was hard for him to express his feelings, his wife was able to understand him in a way nobody else would.

“We’ll figure something out mi amor.” Standing in a warming embrace, a small grin replaces the frown on Y/n’s face.

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

Kurt with puppy!reader who loves to lick into his mouth, and he also just loves that. He’s a very sloppy kisser anyways, and any affection he can get makes him happy :). He’ll just sit there. Smiling with his mouth open. Giggling as you lick and kiss inside his mouth. And you lick up his drool from the corners and his chin that he can’t swallow while you’re making a home in there. Kissing you back and playing with your tail that he loves when it thumps so hard :’)

cw: hybrid au with dog hybrid!reader. don't like don't read, or block the tag 'hybrid au' below. hybrid au faq

it's me i'm puppy!reader <3 UGH he's just sort of awkward around affection, not like he feels awkward about it, but everyone else seems to, or probably would if he ever got the chance to kiss someone. and he probably feels shitty about it, so he's hesitant to kiss you at first, just in case you don't like him anymore, bc he's already kind of astounded that you'd liked him this much so far! but you definitely want a kiss from him, and honestly you're a little sad that he won't kiss you even after you've asked a thousand times so so nicely :') you're thinking there's something wrong with u!! or that he's mad at you, and you just don't know why he won't lay one on you :(

so eventually you just take it upon yourself to initiate one!! you lick sweetly at his chin, big shiny puppy eyes absolutely begging him to tilt his head down. you're giving him a chance to push you away if he doesn't want it, but you're hoping against all hope that he'll kiss you :') and he does !! he kinda can't believe you're being so sweet with him, but he really can't say no to you, even if he's still nervous about his kissing style. luckily for him, the second he gives in and tilts his chin down, you're licking right into his mouth!!

it's sloppy and messy and drooly and wet and slimy but it's sweet, and he finds himself so stunned by your eagerness that he can't even reciprocate, however sloppy it would have been. so he's just sitting there, letting you slobber all over him <3 he hears your tail thumping and it just hits him that you don't care if he's weird, you just wanna love him!!

he loveslovesloves it when you kiss him like that, he'll sit there for hours with spit running down his chin if it means you'll lap at his tongue and pucker your lips to release echo-y kisses into his mouth that you both giggle at!! and he's more than happy to repay the favor sometime, with a kiss of your own or with a thousand and one ear scratches or tummy rubs :')

#hybrid au #kurt kunkle x puppy!reader #puppy!reader #hybrid!reader #let's talk about hybrid!reader !!

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zoeykallus · 2 years

Note

Hi! Hope you’re doing ✨FABULOUSLY✨ I read your ”labour” fic and loved it as always so I was wondering if you could do something similar with the batch feeling their baby kick in the mama’s belly for the first time? :) I always imagine them being so confused, yet fascinated and scared of it since their births was so different xD But please take your time and don’t forget to relax sometime and drink water!!! 💕

Aloha! Thank you kindly! I'm doing alright, I hope you are having a great time :) Such a sweet idea :)) Let's see...

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader - Baby Kickin'

Warning: Pregnancy / Strong language (Crosshair's fault, as always)

Hunter

The first time you tell him to feel the Baby he is in complete awe. He kneels down, takes both hands to feel the kicking little one in your tummy and his eyes go wide.

"There is a little person in there", he says almost whispering.

You smile at him and say, "Our Baby"

He smiles back at you and says, "We made this... it's incredible"

But then he looks up a little concerned.

"You don't feel pain when our child is moving, do you?"

You laugh softly and say, "No, it's a little uncomfortable at times, depending how our little one moves and when, sometimes this little energy packet wakes me up in the middel of the night, and sometimes I need to pee, because someone thinks my bladder is a punching ball"

Hunter chuckles.

"Cheeky little thing, that's your genes for sure", he mocks you with a soft smirk.

Echo

Echo is not only touching your belly when you tell him too, he's pressing his head to it, his ear, as if he could hear the Baby talk.

He talks to the baby, so softly and loving in his tone and tells it to be good to you, the mommy.

"Be a good little cadet and treat your mother well, stop waking her up in the middle of the night, okay"

"Cadet?", you ask not very impressed.

Echo smirks, "I'm just joking arround Mesh'la"

He is a loving partner and father to be, he cares a lot and he is always around you to help you and see if the baby does anything new. He doesn't want to miss anything.

Echo often talks to your belly and carresses it softly, and every now and then the Baby reacts to his voice, moments in which he smiles brighter than any star in the galaxy.

Wrecker

"Come here everybody! The baby is moving!"

Wrecker is so hyped, he wants everyone to feel it too, he is holding you in his arms while his brothers take turns to put a hand on your belly.

He is so super proud of you, about soon being a Dad and he is full of joy about everything concerning the baby. The only thing that scares him is the birth because he heard bad things could happen to you and the baby if something goes wrong.

But as soon as he feels the little one kick, he forgets about all that for now. It's such a thrill for him, so new, so incredible, the thought that you two made a new life together is so stunning.

He is very protective during that time, he always is, but now even more.

"We made a baby!", he says to you very happy.

You laugh softly, "I know darling, I know, it's inside me"

Tech

The first time you ask him to feel your belly, he is so deep in his work again, reading on his datapad, he does what you ask him to but doesn't really think about it. He jerks back as he feesl the movement.

Finally he looks up from his datapad, his eyes big, his expression startled.

"As I was trying to say", you tell him softly "the baby is moving"

He sets the datapad aside and slowly reaches for your belly again, this time with both hands. His eyes widen and he looks at you, almost seeming a little helpless. He knows what's going on, of course he does, but this is so overwhelming right now.

"She is an active little thing", he says fascinated "i hope her mind will be just as ernergized

"She?"

"Oh, on the last Scan I did, I was able to see the gender"

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Tech shrugs.

"You didn't ask me"

Crosshair

Crosshair cocks an eyebrow at you.

"The baby is moving? Inside you?"

You nod and ask him to touch your belly. He hesitates a little, this is new territory, he's not sure how to handle it. As his hand, softly glides along your belly, he feels nothing.

He looks at you a little upset. Then Hunter says in the background: "The kid moving again?"

"It was", you answer.

Crosshair frowns.

"Why did it stop?"

"The baby doesn't move all day, Crosshair"

Hunter comes closer and says mockingly, "Maybe it doesn't like you, Crosshair"

Crosshair's hand is still on your belly and now he feels it, he smiles but then he looks at Hunter, "It moved, it heard your voice. I guess it want's to kick your face just as much as I do"

Hunter rolls his eyes and walks away. Crosshair kneels down in front of you saying to your baby bump, "My little asskicker"

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

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delopsia · 2 years

Note

can you do something nsfw dylan lenivy x reader? Please,i need this,I really love your writing <3

oh oh i almost forgot about my plans for dylan oh no

Word Count: 2,700 Warnings: Mild swearing, oral sex (reader giving), not beta read in the slightest. Slightly subby Dylan because I'm a whore & Gender-Neutral reader Cross Posted Here On AO3

The keys are heavy in your hand, cold against your clammy skin, heavier than you expected. You're still catching up to what just happened; exhausted gray cells struggle to connect two and two, even as you watch Mr. H's truck fly down the dirt driveway. It disappears in a cloud of red dust, an angry engine echoing throughout the unusually empty quarry.

"Anyone have 'Being Abandoned In The Woods' on their bingo card?" Dylan's always been faster processing these sudden events than you are.

In just a few seconds, your rag-tag group has been stunned into a trance, eyes glazed over, fixated on the empty driveway before you. Forgotten, the van continues to burn, flames licking out from under the hood. Kaitlyn opens her mouth to speak, blinks, but nothing comes out.

A pale hand waves in front of your eyes. "Hello? Is anyone home?"

"No," just like that, you've broken from your trance. Dylan hesitates, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. You know this look. He's always so focused on maintaining his false persona, coming up with jokes and reactions for situations that haven't happened yet, that deviations from his predicted scenarios throw him off.

In the silence that follows, it strikes you that your peers have turned their attention to the two of you. Dylan grinds his teeth, face growing increasingly pale; you've thrown him off, and he's struggling to get back on.

And everyone's witnessing it.

"Is anyone going to put out the fire?" You blurt, waving your empty hand towards the heavy black smoke.

Like a dam broken, everyone moves. Nick runs for the hose, Jacob and Ryan go for buckets. You'd help if you weren't suddenly concerned for your luggage, stored in the back of the smoke-filled van. Opening the trunk feels like opening the door to a hot oven; the heat hits you like a freight train.

A flurry of hands reach for the bags, already warm to the touch, tossing them haphazardly from the trunk and to the ground. A little bit of dirt is better than being fodder for a surprise vehicle fire. It feels like forever passes before the boys come back with water.

"Jacob, move!" Nick's run out of hose, can't move any further and Jacob's hulking frame is directly in the way.

Jacob's selective hearing doesn't acknowledge Nick's plea. Not until cold water hits the back of his head, at least. "Hey!"

"I told you to move!"

The rest of the argument goes over your head. as amusing as it is to watch Jacob get pelted by cold water, it's hard to focus on. Not when Dylan lingers next to you, fidgeting like he just got caught sneaking a cookie from the cookie jar.

"You okay?" Your own voice feels foreign.

"Yeah," he's not. You're both aware of that, painfully so, but there isn't much you can do when you have an audience. Not when he's kept up this act for the better half of two months.

The keys in your hand feel heavier as the flames under the hood of the van sizzle and begin to die out, no thanks to Jacob. Had Mr. H always carried so many keys? How does he even know which key goes to what when so many of them look identical? Only one of them is labeled.

'Office.' Hm. Maybe you do have an idea.

"Y/N?" Oh God, why is Jacob saying your name?

"Huh?" Blinking, you return to reality, finding that all eyes are now on you. Did you say something?

"Are you in?" Jacob's elaboration isn't helping. "...party? Tonight? Huh?"

Oh.

"Yeah," you breathe, clutching the keys in your hand, "I'm in."

You'll never understand why any of the councilors ask if everyone else is in when they always end up doing it, even if someone is against it. There's a look in Ryan's eye that says he tried and failed; next to you, Abigail fidgets with the same discomfort. Whatever, what's the worst that can happen at a bonfire?

"To charge the phones," you'd said, followed it up with a "so we can have music at the campfire" for extra measure. At the very least, you should be feeling the slightest twinge of remorse for lying straight through your teeth. Your conscience must be on vacation because the little devil on your shoulder tells you that you should have done this much earlier.

The door to Mr. H's office creaks open; such a tiny noise sounds so loud in the unusually quiet building. For the past two months, these walls have not known a moment of silence; the lack of laughter and endless chatter is almost eerie.

"Ooo, spinny chair!" You'd almost forgotten that Dylan was lingering behind you this whole time. Evidently, you're not used to Dylan being so quiet, either.

"I was beginning to think you'd gone mute," you tease, locking the door behind you.

"I did," he all but throws himself into the chair, and for a second, you're concerned that it's going to tip, "the chair cured my ailments."

The way your eyes roll is a pure reflex, a new habit you've developed ever since the day you met him. You don't even realize that you're doing it anymore; it's so commonplace when you're talking to Dylan.

"I still can't believe that Mr. H left like that," you're talking, but only to distract him from the thoughts brewing in the back of your mind. "Could you imagine all the trouble we could get up to without supervision?" Your words are carefully chosen, your tone steady; there's the slightest sway in your hips as you walk over to the desk.

Dylan is more observant than anyone gives him credit for, even if he doesn't catch on right away. You know he's figured out you're up to something by the way he settles his hands along the curves of your waist, by the way he guides you to sit across his lap.

There's that glaze over his eyes again, unsure and stiff, yet he melts like butter when you bring your hand up to his cheek. Like a cat, he nuzzles his cheek into your hand, eager to soak up any and all affection you're willing to give him.

"Just a bunch of unsupervised adults in the middle of nowhere," he says, slowly; he's still working on where he's going with this one, "what crimes could we possibly commit?"

You hum as if you're lost in deep thought, "I've got a few ideas." Now it's your turn to fumble for words. How exactly does one tell their boyfriend, "hey, I know you've been having a day, and I wanna suck your dick under the table to make you feel better," without being too abrupt with it and risking scaring him off?

But then his eyes are widening, there's the slightest twitch from under his slacks, and you're realizing that you just said that whole train of thought out loud.

"I..." he stammers, cheeks the sweetest shade of pink as he leans further into your open palm for comfort, "well, I'm...not...going to stop you." He can't look you in the eye, always so bashful when you initiate things.

"Really?" Adjusting yourself until you're straddling his hips, and it's a miracle that you can fit on this tiny chair with him.

You're almost concerned that he may just faint, but then he's bumping your noses together, and in the softest voice you've ever heard, he says, "I'd like that."

His lips brush against yours, shy like it's the first time he's kissed you. It's such a stark contrast to the persona he's put on, dizzying at times. You let him meet you the whole way, running your fingers through his hair, resting at his nape. He hums when you dip your head down, lips carefully lacing in the most elegant of dances, slow and deliberate. Kissing him feels like floating among the clouds, and when your head begins to spin, you're convinced that you're already on one.

"You don't have to," he murmurs against your lips, in between kisses, "not if you don't want to." He talks too much.

Your tongue delves in to meet his, and the whine that ripples out of him makes your heart skip a beat. He always makes such pretty noises. You don't miss the way he grips your waist a little tighter, nor do you miss the way his hips twitch up into you. Lungs stinging, you retreat for a breath, but he follows you, kisses you with a fervor you rarely get to experience. His breath is hot against your lips, but his tongue is hotter.

Just when the stars are beginning to appear behind your eyelids, he pulls back, panting against your lips. Between heavy breaths, you kiss down his neck, lingering on the sensitive spots that have him squirming below you.

"That's," he gasps, jolting as your teeth sink into his collarbone.

"That's...what?" You tease, sucking lightly at the thin skin stretched over the bone.

You can't see it, but you can feel the eye roll; it's audible in the way he huffs, leans his head back against the chair a little too dramatically. The chair sways alarmingly with the motion and threatens to tip you over at any given moment. As gracefully as your position will allow, you sink from the chair, settling on your knees.

The sight that greets you is far too familiar; you've lost count of how many times you've done this. Just how many times you've kissed his clothed knee as your dominant hand fumbles with his jeans, popping open the button and lowering the zipper.

"This is so much better than hiding behind a tree," Dylan breathes, shaky fingers curling behind your head, "why did I not think of this sooner?"

His attempt at being snarky is poorly timed; the fingertips that previously teased at the edge of his boxers come to a halt. Silent, you sit back on your haunches, blank eyes trained on his.

Dylan squirms, his knee bumping your shoulder, "Okay, okay!" You have to settle a hand on one of his thighs, suddenly afraid he may jump out of the chair like a fish out of water. "I'm sorry, it was a bad joke; this was all your idea."

That's the best apology you suppose you'll get.

Your fingers dip under the elastic waistband; he's always situated off to the left, you've noticed. It proves correct once again when your fingers brush against hot flesh, and Dylan jumps.

He fits in your hand perfectly, cock hard and leaking as you draw him out from his boxers. This should be routine, at this point. Dylan has no reason to gasp that prettily when your tongue glides up, from base to tip, you do this every single time, and yet he still makes the sweetest noises to the same old tricks. It makes your heart flutter, a stark contrast to the lewd sound of your tongue tracing around his head, salty precum bold on your tongue.

"Jesus," he whines, eyes squeezed shut.

As much as you'd like to tease him, simply suck on the head until he's begging you to take him deeper, you're starting to hear the councilors mulling around outside. All it takes is one nosey person to peek through the cracks in the blinds and see you here, and you're not sure if either of you can handle the shame of being caught in Mr. H's office.

It's easy, wrapping your lips around him and gently suckling on the tip, tongue rubbing against the underside, back and forth in a practiced motion. Below you, Dylan squirms, bites into the flesh of his palm to stifle his noises. He's not one to buck up into your mouth, but you place your hands on his hips anyway, bracing yourself.

Hollowing your cheeks, you lower your head, taking him in until the head bumps into the back of your throat. Fighting the urge to gag, you hold him there for a second, fingers wrapping around what length you can't take. Your head begins to bob, finding a comfortable rhythm, humming when he mutters your name under labored breath.

"Fuck, Angel," Dylan's eyes are locked on you, barely open, yet too mesmerized by your motions to close them all the way, "just like that."

Gagging slightly, you take him a little deeper, jaw aching with the effort. Dylan whimpers, hips squirming the tiniest bit, like he doesn't know whether to run away from or chase after the feeling.

Knock_ Knock_

"Dylan? You in there, man?" Ryan's muffled voice is barely audible, but it's there. The doorknob tries, and you're forever grateful that you locked that damn thing.

"Y-yeah, why?" Dylan writhes, pushing on your head, urging for you to pull off of him.

You don't.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He whispers, yet the panic in his voice is lost when you suck a little harder, sink a little further down, and his eyes roll into the back of his head. Both hands cling to your head now, holding on for dear life as you pick up your pace, working him over with a fervor that has his thighs trembling.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Y/N went, would you?" Ryan's sweet, he really is, but you really wish he would walk away from the door. You already miss the pretty sounds that fall from Dylan's lips.

"Nope! Haven't, fuck, haven't seen them since they went to find a lighter!" You haven't heard Dylan this pitchy since you first met him; you wonder what else you can do to rile him up like this.

Ryan is quiet for a minute, and for a moment, you're concerned that he may be able to hear the wet, lewd sound of Dylan's dick in your mouth.

"...okay."

Yet, you don't hear him walk away. No thump of boots, no creaking of old wooden floors under heavy footsteps. Your ministrations slow, waiting for the telltale sound of Ryan walking away, all the while, Dylan's face turns redder and redder.

Finally, finally, he walks away, floor squeaking, a door slamming shut.

"Oh, thank fuck," Dylan all but deflates, and you're back to work, eager to ease the ache that's settled in your jaw.

Dylan's grip is growing tighter, keening when you hum around him. His legs are moving, twitching back and forth, needs to move but doesn't want you to pull off. The hand on your head grips tighter.

"I'm..." he starts, in between breaths, "I'm...I'm gonna..."

Swallowing his cum isn't exactly ideal, but now that you think about it, it seems like your only option to avoid a mess. Might as well try this out, then...

"Holy—," Dylan squeaks out, "Angel, please, I—fuck!"

You've taken him impossibly deeper, nose mere centimeters from his navel, cock even further down your throat. Tears sting at the corner of your eyes as you work up and down, fighting your gag reflex with everything you've got, and Dylan is gone.

His back arches off the chair as he cums, hot sticky liquid biting the back of your throat as you try your best to take it all. Head spinning, panting through your nose as you listen to the whimpered mantra of your name.

After a moment, you pull away, throat sore from the abuse it's undergone, and your jaw feels like it's made of jelly. "How was that for making you feel better?" Your voice is shot, rougher than normal, and breaking as you speak.

"Perfect, amazing, wonderful, five out of five stars on Yelp," he's leaning down, pressing a messy kiss to your spit-slicked lips. It's hard to kiss him for very long, not when neither of you can catch your breath, and the stiffness in your knees is screaming at you to get up.

"Now, how do we explain where I've supposedly been," you croak, using the desk for leverage as you climb to your feet. Your body sways, yet strong hands find your waist, supporting you before you can even develop the concern of falling.

"Well," he begins, chocolate brown eyes darting to the door behind you. "We can snoop around? Explore, maybe find Mr. H's secret sex dungeon."

For the umpteenth time today, you roll your eyes. "Of course, what can go wrong?"

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