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summercourtship · 2 months

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sway. (bruce's POV)

First half of the Sponsorship Gala, including Bruce and the Reader's dance. From ch. 3 of Stay to Burn (Only to Drown Instead)- this will not make sense if you haven't read that!! 2430 words |warnings: none

read on ao3 | stay to burn masterpost

Bruce was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Even though he had willingly decided to become a public figure again, that didn’t mean he had to like it. And he certainly felt that his energy would be better used to patrol the city than stand in a building filled with the upper echelon of society and cheap wine, shaking hands and faking smiles.

But he wasn’t at the event for social reasons, even though socializing would be necessary.

His parents had often dragged him along to events like this, galas and fundraisers overflowing with opulence despite often being to raise money for those less fortunate. This, however, was just for the local university and he was only attending because of her.

Bruce had replayed the contact lens footage from the second time he had gone to her apartment multiple times, his suspicions about her situation building with each detail he noticed. He doubted she suspected anything- she was probably barely even aware of the Scarecrow, as the media had dubbed him due to the mask he seemed fond of wearing. No, she was too concerned with her own life to realize that vultures were circling overhead, even as they swooped lower and lower.

He had arrived late, not wanting to sit through the thirty-minute long presentation. He didn’t need convincing to be charitable, he was going to generously donate anyway. He watched as the crowd filed out of the auditorium, staying close to the edge of the room. But once one person noticed him, they all did.

All around him, people were smiling, almost tripping over themselves to speak with him. He was polite with all of them, though he kept the conversations short. He hadn’t seen the girl yet, and he was starting to worry that she hadn’t actually attended when he spotted Dr. Crane, only a few feet away from him.

The man was standing with perfect posture, his demeanor closed off and cold as he spoke with a young woman. Then his icy eyes slid over her shoulder and locked onto Bruce.

Bruce did not unnerve easily. But something in Crane’s expression raised alarm bells in his head. Suddenly uncomfortable, Bruce almost looked right past the couple until he did a double take on the woman. She looked much different here than the last time he had seen her- at first glance, she could almost pass for an actual socialite. But her eyes were much too lively, her energy much too excited. She didn’t have the airs of someone who lacked a soul.

No, don’t approach, keep your distance- but before he could stop himself, he was approaching the couple, not caring that he was leaving a conversation unfinished.

“Mr. Wayne.” Dr. Crane spoke first, holding his hand out. Bruce tentatively took it, overly conscious of how tense his body was, lingering unease keeping him rigid as he shook the man’s hand. “Nice to see you out tonight.”

He disliked how people talked to him like they knew him. Overly familiar just because his face was. But he remembered what his father would do at events like these and smiled, though he could feel how fake it was.

“I needed some fresh air.”

“I’m sure.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed the girl looking from him to Crane, clearly intrigued. But she didn’t speak up.

“My teaching assistant.” Dr. Crane gestured to the young woman beside him, who was becoming increasingly familiar to Bruce. He was already aware of her position as Crane’s TA, having learned it during his impromptu visit to her apartment. (Not that she knew that.)

It was that visit that had brought Dr. Crane to his attention in the first place, the syllabus on her couch and the papers she’d been grading about fear seeming too much of a coincidence to ignore.

But she smiled, bringing him out of his thoughts as she reached out her own hand, saying her name like he didn’t already know that, either. But even if she knew he was the Batman, she would have no reason to suspect he knew her name- that was something he found out on his own time.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Bruce shakes her hand, clasping it in his own, smiling to match her own. It felt genuine this time, not the tight-lipped smiles he’d been dishing out to everyone else that evening. Did she see through him, was she able to look behind the facade he was wearing right now?

Beside her, Dr. Crane was watching with an unreadable expression, his mouth tight and eyes slightly narrowed. Then he cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable with the prolonged contact of their hands. The girl dropped his hand, quickly looking over at the other man. A beat passed of the two staring at each other, a nervous smile on the girl’s face.

What, exactly, was the nature of their relationship?

“Have a nice evening, Mr. Wayne.” Crane’s voice was short as he put his hand on the girl’s shoulder, leading her away. She followed willingly, as if she was unperturbed by the man’s behavior.

“It was nice meeting you!” She called over her shoulder, her smile bright. He watched as she left, his eyes following the sway of her hips as she was led away. Then he frowned as he saw how tightly Crane’s hand was clenched on her shoulder, not unlike a claw digging into her skin.

Bruce continued tailing after the two, though at such a distance as to not arouse their suspicion. He doubted Crane would try anything tonight- Bruce didn’t even know for certain that Crane was the Scarecrow.

But the most likely explanation tended to be the correct one, and there were too many coincidences concerning Crane for Bruce to not be suspicious. Who else in Gotham was an expert on fear and also skilled in chemistry? Crane was the only one who fit that description, and it was worth examining.

He just hoped the girl wouldn’t make this more complicated than it needed to be.

Bruce followed them into the ballroom, though the distance was much larger than he had planned due to people coming up to him and talking. Once again, he gave short answers, doing his best to not come across as rude but probably failing. By the time he escaped a particularly frustrating exchange about stocks, he had lost sight of them.

However, it didn’t take long to find them again as they had not strayed far.

Crane and the girl were dancing, chatting idly as they swayed back and forth. As he walked closer, he couldn’t help thinking that if he had planned better, he would have figured out a way to get to her phone and find a way to use it as a makeshift listening device. It would have been a better use of his time, standing at a distance and listening instead of waiting for opportunities to speak to them.

He approached the couple, not oblivious to how they seemed to be in their own little bubble as they danced, speaking in low tones that Bruce couldn’t hear.

But he could pop the bubble.

“May I cut in?”

The girl looked over her shoulder, her brief look of irritation at being interrupted replaced with a small smile when she saw who was interrupting her dance.

“Of course.” Almost immediately, she let go of Crane’s hands, turning to him to speak quietly, “We can talk about it later.”

Crane’s hands lingered on her waist, flexing briefly as he clearly gripped her harder for a moment before he released her. He watched as Bruce took one of her hands in his own, his other going to her waist. Over her shoulder, Crane was staring at Bruce, the same unreadable expression from before on his face.

Bruce simply nodded at him and led the girl away as the string quartet started a new song, something gentler and melancholic.

Bruce had taken a few dancing lessons when he was a child, but anything he had learned was swiftly forgotten once he stopped going. He was lucky, then, that it seemed like she also didn’t know what she was doing and was perfectly content to just sway in place.

“Well, Mr. Wayne, it’s nice seeing you again.”

“Please, call me Bruce.”

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the sides. He never saw her smile like that before, certainly not when he was out on patrol. What reason would she have to smile when a vigilante showed up on her balcony?

“Alright. Bruce. How are you enjoying your night so far?”

Her voice was unfamiliar, like she was putting on an air to seem more sophisticated than she thought she was. He knew what she actually sounded like, and wanted to draw her out. He wasn’t here to talk to a character.

“Well, one of the last times I was at a public event like this a car almost hit me, so I think comparatively it’s going good.”

Panic flared behind her eyes, and for a moment he was afraid that his attempt at humor had backfired. Sounds about right. He gave her a small smile, hoping to convey that he was being light-hearted. She smiled back, but it quickly fell off her face as she looked down, clearly lost in thought for a moment, chewing at the corner of her mouth.

He was about to say something else, change the subject because she seemed like her mind was stuck somewhere, when she finally spoke again.

“I was there, too. At the funeral.”

He didn’t know that. He should have known that. He knew she was at the election party, her ticket stub on the corkboard giving that away. But how was he supposed to know that she was at city hall that day? He wouldn’t even be able to revisit the footage from that event because he didn’t have it- Selina had still been in possession of the contact lens at the time.

He realized that his face must have shown his surprise before he controlled it. But to his surprise, she seemed relieved that he didn’t say anything, that he didn’t try to look sympathetic, and continued talking.

“Mhm, I was writing a stupid paper and when all that started happening it was… Well, it felt important to document it.” She chuckled. “As if a paper like that would be important to the historical record.”

“You never know.” He disliked hearing her talk down about herself like that. She ignored him.

“Anyway, I was waiting on the upper balcony with the crowd of normal people-” She smiled, quick, letting him know she was joking, “and had just moved to give someone else some space when the car came crashing through, so…” She sucked her teeth, making a tsk-ing sound as she trailed off. “Not as bad as, you know… almost being hit.”

She was on the balcony? He wondered if she even knew she might have been rubbing elbows with Edward Nashton. It wasn’t public knowledge that he had attended the funeral, but maybe she had seen him and recognized him later when he was arrested. The idea of her being so close to him without knowing it made something twist in his stomach, something unpleasant.

Her expression shifted at his silence and she cleared her throat before hastily changing the subject. He moved his hand from her hip to her lower back, unknowingly pulling her closer to him. The front of her body was almost pressing against his, the small space between them seemingly impenetrable by either of them.

“So why are you here tonight?” She asked, her voice soft as she looked up at him. He didn’t break eye contact with her as he responded. “Enjoying the scenery.” It slipped out before he could stop himself, but by the look of gentle surprise on her face, she didn’t mind the unsubtle compliment.

“And here I thought you were a shut-in with no social skills.”

He knew it was a joke, but the reminder of how he had failed the city before was sour. He didn’t blame her for bringing it up- he knew what people said about him, even if he didn’t care about any of it. But his refusal to acknowledge the city his parents tried to help led to multiple deaths, his negligence of their legacy almost ruined the city.

Alfred told him he shouldn’t blame himself. But he did.

“A lot has changed over the past year.” His voice was soft, and she seemed to take a moment to process what he said.

The song ended and the couples that were dancing parted to clap for the quartet. The violinist stood, announcing that the musicians were going on a break. She didn’t let go of him, and he didn’t let her go either. They stood, still joined, her eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

“What do you m-” Her question was interrupted by an older man who, upon seeing Bruce, had decided that it was his god-given duty to speak with him at that very moment.

“May I have a moment of your time, Mr. Wayne?” The man murmured into his ear, as if to keep the girl from overhearing. It took every ounce of self control for Bruce to not flinch away from the man’s hot breath, his words barely audible over the noise of the gala. “I would like to discuss your contribution to the university’s scholarship fund-”

The girl dropped his hand, pulling herself away from him. He allowed her to go, even if he desperately wanted to find a way to use her as an excuse to get out of another conversation about money.

“Thank you for the dance, Mr. Wayne. I’ll leave you to it.” She spoke quietly, as if she expected him to not listen to her. He watched as she left, not paying attention to the man next to him. Though he wouldn’t be as obvious about it as he may have been a few years ago, he knew he needed to keep her in his sights.

She was probably going to find Crane again, and he was stuck in another pointless conversation. But he’d find her again, think of another excuse to talk to her alone.

After all, he hadn’t even asked her what he needed to, something that would affect everything if his hunch about Crane being the Scarecrow proved true:

What, exactly, is her relationship with Dr. Crane?

bruce + reader's playlist | poll for next POV

#stay to burn verse #stbotdi #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #my writing #my fic #sometimes i write things and im just like “okay!” about it. like not excited but not worried #just okay.

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delespresso · 17 days

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IT'S YOU ━━ Antonio Dawson x fem!reader

author's note; hi! it's been a while since i actually wrote something and i really wanted to start again so here we are. first time writing for my man antonio and i hope it's good and liked <3

prompt; "what do you i've been doing this for?" from this list

summary; after a pretty messy breakup, she ends up crashing at antonio's. and she ends up moving in — but they're just friends.

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

Antonio had known her for years. When she first moved to Chicago and became Gabby's partner on Ambulance 61, he was one of the few people that welcomed her from outside the firehouse.

Since then they'd been good friends, usually hanging out at Molly's or helping each other with mundane things. She was even good with Eva and Diego which always helped lessen his load after the divorce. There were times when she helped watch over the kids when Gabby couldn't and Antonio was stuck with a case while his ex-wife was traveling the world with her fancy new boyfriend.

He wasn't sure when it started, but at some point he felt it. The way his excitement grew at the prospect of seeing her again even if just for a drink with their circle of friends at Molly's. Or if they bumped into each other while on scenes. Or the few moments he'd get roughed up on the job and would come to her instead of an actual doctor or something.

But when he realized the way he was leaning onto her more than he probably should, he still couldn't stop it. Which was probably why he immediately offered her a place to stay when she broke up with her boyfriend whom she'd been living with.

“The kids are at a sleepover this weekend, but you don't need to worry about them,” he said as he brought two bottles of cold beer out for them.

She was on his couch, wrapped up in one of his hoodies as she curled up. Her boyfriend of four years turned out to be sleeping with his secretary. Cliché, but god she never expected it.

“You're sure they're gonna be fine with me staying?” she asked, wiping her nose with a tissue since she'd just stopped crying as she took the beer he offered.

In all honesty her heart was crushed. Who wouldn't be? She'd trusted her boyfriend only to find out he'd been stepping out on her.

Antonio could see the way she was hurting. And it filled him with a subtle rage. He wouldn't risk showing it though, all he did now was be there for her.

He let her curl up on the long couch as he settled in the armchair, watching her as she drank her beer.

“They love you,” he reminded her. “Eva would be happy to know you're here so she'd have someone to gossip with.”

They shared a chuckle over that. She did love the long chats with Eva about high-school drama. It was much simpler than her life now.

“You can stay as long as you need,” he added gently, a soft smile as he reassured her.

She looked at him, mustering up a soft smile of her own. How on earth did she get so lucky as to have a friend like him?

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

She'd been staying at Antonio's for half a year by now. The search for a place of her own wasn't going so well. But Eva and Diego were pretty much doing everything they could to convince her to just stay.

Antonio's feelings had been all over the place now that she was literally in the room next door to him. Everywhere he turned she was there. It didn't help with the ongoing want to always be around her.

She was usually so sharp on social cues. She'd notice if her friends had crushes or admirers from miles away. But when it was her own case, she was practically blind to it. Which clearly showed now as she was helping Hermann bartend at Molly's and serving up a drink for Antonio.

“You know you've got a hot one eyeing you up on your four o'clock,” she teased, passing him a bottle of cold beer.

Antonio was aware of the other woman. But his eyes was fixed on the one behind the bar in front of him.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, picking up his bottle and bringing it up to his lips, “I'm not looking for that.”

She rested her hands on the bartop, tilting her head at him. Now that she thought of it, he hadn't been on any dates for a while now. Much less flirting with anyone. Well, anyone but her. But they always had their harmless flirty banter.

“Then what are you looking for?” she asked, leaning forward slightly as she questioned him.

He sighed, scratching his stubble lightly as he turned his head for a moment. God, he loved her but he wished she opened her eyes sometimes.

“I'm not looking anymore ‘cause I already found it,” he answered simply, turning back to her with a soft smile.

“Meaning?” she asked again, raising her brows.

“Well, there's this girl,” he started to say. He paused though, grinning when he saw her lean in slightly as if she was interested in some hot scoop of gossip.

“She got her heart broken a while back. Since then, I've been tryna make her feel better. Pick up the little pieces.”

She paused then, her brain picking up all the information piece by piece. For a minute, she felt like she made the connection. But she didn't want to jump the gun.

“You told her how you feel?”

“Doing that right now.”

There were a few seconds of silence. Both of them just looked each other in the eyes as he smiled softly at the way she simply stared at him like that. He knew she was picking it up now.

“Antonio—”

“It's you,” he cut her off, pushing his beer bottle aside slightly. His arms were folded over the wooden bartop as he spoke to her. “It's been you for years now.”

She blinked, completely dumbfounded. Her heart felt like it was fighting to break out of her ribcage.

He felt like the weight was finally lifted off his shoulders now. It was out. He couldn't take it back and he didn't want to.

“Why didn't you say anything?” she finally asked after a few beats.

“You were spoken for,” he replied.

She'd been taken for the past four years. And he respected the relationship, so he never said anything or acted on his feelings. He wasn't the type for it.

“Not anymore,” she then said.

He paused, his eyes locked on hers for a moment as he nodded slowly.

“Not anymore,” he echoed. “What do you think I've been doing this for?”

A soft smile pulled on her lips as she looked at him, finally realizing she was right. She had sensed the subtle hints, but she was too scared to properly read into it.

Now though, he was making himself clear.

“I like you,” he said properly, making her smile brighter which caused an immediate rise in his heart rate. “And I know you're in the room next door—”

She laughed softly at that, looking down briefly. She was still living in his place after all.

“— but if you'd like, I'd love to properly take you out,” he finally finished.

He was nervous. In all honesty, she made him so nervous it made almost no sense. But he had to take the leap. He'd been waiting for years for the chance and he'd be damned if he didn't take it now.

She smiled, looking at him with those eyes that always made him weak.

“I'll clear my Friday night.”

#antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawson #antonio dawson imagine #chicago pd #one chicago #antonio dawson fanfiction #oneshot #jon seda

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nic-42 · 8 months

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you two... TOO!?

I did this with the children but what about the parents? after seeing some of the great art of @cartoonsbyandie I said "shit, this would be so much fun with the adults" anyway, this is one of my favorite headcanons, could someone share some more?

--------------------------------------------- Imagine this: Kogoro and Ginzo are dating but they don't want anyone in their social circle to find out for fear of being judged. one day kogoro manages to convince ginzo to go out for a drink, not realizing that they went to one of the most well-known and extravagant gay bars in the area.

they start to get used to the environment, they feel free and happy to be in a place where they can openly show love to each other, then kogoro goes to the bathroom for a moment and when he comes back he bumps into a familiar face "ouch, hey! watch where you're walking idio-" his mind stops for a moment, the music is playing very loud for some reason "k-kudo!?" the man looks at him confused [internally terrified] "pardon?" Kogoro is in shock when Ginzo approaches him and grabs his shoulder "Mouri! Damn I've been looking for you, where the fuck you-"

sepulchral silence takes over the place for a moment.

"T-TOICHI!?" kogoro is confused, while the two men are pale, a whisper is audible. shit. "Um, keibu, it's uh- a big surprise to see you here…how's aoko-chan?" ok, kogoro is VERY confused right now "do you guys know each other!?" nakamori covers his face in shame "fuck…" "is that a yes?" "YES THE FUCK, YES" toichi smiles too nervous internally "so, mission on deck or-" the detectives are paralyzed, they think they have an excuse "YES! MOURI AND I WERE-" toichi laughs loudly

"There's no need guys, in fact we're also here for that reason" the detectives look at each other "we?" they say at same time. while they are talking someone approaches toichi from behind and hugs him around the waist "I go away just for a minute and you start flirting? how rud-" yuusaku freezes in place, his smile disappears and his face pales, kogoro's too.

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

This is how the 4 parents are sitting at a table, with different drinks and in an uncomfortable silence. "So, you're Yuki-chan's childhood friend?" toichi speaks calmly, calm after the initial shock "yes-yes, and you are?" the inspector interrupts "he is toichi, my neighbor. can I ask for your companion?" kogoro looks at yuusaku who is still holding his head "yuu-chan? I thought mouri-san would have told you about him, his son plays with mouri's daughter" the inspector thinks and remembers vague complaints from kogoro about a brat playing with his daughter.

the rest of the night was relatively good, they even drank together, although when they left the two couples went their separate ways. "so, they are also… I see why he used to ask me to take care of kaito so often" it all made sense now, he could dismiss the suspicion of being KID "I never imagined he was like this, yukiko even knows about this?" kogoro was still digesting the topic "probably, toichi said that chikage knew and was fine with it, maybe kudo's wife too"

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

on the other hand… "I'm fucked up" yusaku was in a fetal position in the back of the car "something wrong darling? no problem dear, they're not going to judge us" toichi was driving, he had a better alcohol tolerance than the detective "not that, yukiko is going to kill me, I promised to take care of shinichi while she accompanied chikage to paris, mouri will definitely tell her."

#dcmk #dcmk au #kuroba toichi #nakamori ginzo #mouri kogoro #kudo yusaku #omg this is so funny #gay power i think #lmao

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venturesofviolentviolet · 14 days

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Sad girlz are the prettiest aren’t they?

Romanticize my slit my throat era

The blankest stare

Words won’t even slip out

Can never say what I want to say

Cause we all have anxiety

But not everyone’s lying to you just me

But truth sounds different to you and me

So what is there to say

You’re bipolar when you want to be

But when I’m bipolar it’s just me

Cause for someone who says they know

You don’t seem to get it at all

If it’s convenient for you

I’ll say nothing at all

——————

I don’t want you to look at me when we’re alone

Cause when we’re not it feels like you’re looking everywhere else

and whether or not it’s on purpose

Or happening at all

Nothing I say could make me feel better

Because nothing you say will convince me

Cause no matter how many stories you tell

I watched your eyes

And if I tell you where your eyes go

You will tell me they never moved at all

Even if you have to say they were closed

Which they weren’t

But I get closer and closer to being convinced

That I’m going crazy

And I don’t know what eyes even are

And suddenly I’m not thinking about eyes at all

I’d rather sit here with my throat for a moment

Because I don’t know what’s real

So I’ll focus on the one thing I know

Which is that I can feel my throat

And my chest hurts

And my eyes are sore from

Crying

But don’t look at me now

You’ll throw off my whole balance

I’ll unnaturally stretch

And avoid eye contact

And I’m stretching my calves

With my mind having no where to go

Because I have nothing to say

And I can’t even pretend to be your friend

Because my head is fucked up

And talking and not talking makes it worse

And I’m slowly slipping back under

And no matter how many times or how many ways I say it

It never stops it from happening

And you should be the one person I want to talk to about it

But when we’re together I just feel alone

Cause if I said what I was thinking

You’d freak out

There’d be a fight

And nothing would be resolved

I’d still be anxious

And you’d still be completely innocent while saying I’m sorry

And you’d ask me for the millionth time what will help this

And I’ll say how if I knew I’d be doing it

And I’ll feel bad for being depressed

Which only makes it worse

And we’ll go round in circles

And maybe things will change

But probably they’ll just stay the same

And I’m not sure how much more numb I can be

Because I’ve exhausted most of my mind

And there’s no where else to go

But I’m not getting better

And no amount of reassurance from you could change my mind

When my mind has already declared you an enemy

And I know I love you

And I know I don’t love being alive

And I know I don’t know what love is

But if I do it might hurt more than I can bear

But being alone is a gnawing hunger

And love is more like a deep abyss

I’m more comfortable in one of those

But it’s not about being alone

It’s about if I’ll ever be happy

And I worry if you’ll be happy too

But when I feel like this

I wonder if you’re the reason I’m unhappy

Or if I’m just latching all my anxiety onto you

————-

I feel like the ugliest girl alive

And when I see your eyes follow them

It doesn’t confirm it

It just confirms how little you care

If you can so flippantly look at another girl’s body

Like the movies we watch

Girls delivered to your eyes in perfect shapes and colors

For you to stare and fantasize and lie about

Because the truth makes you uncomfortable

That you have no control over your hunger

Cause sexuality was made to benefit men

And they seldom question it

And have no reason to

Cause they haven’t experienced our side

And wouldn’t want to

Imagine if women devoured images of men in the same way

Having to hide their eyes away from where they would look if not being looked at

Because even if the most beautiful man, completely naked, walked past me

I wouldn’t stare

Or have reason to

But lust for women is unnatural

Men can’t look away

And they are ashamed

But not ashamed enough to stop

And you can blame hormones

Or social media

Or brain development

But it’s happening

And I see it

And I am deeply uncomfortable

Because the way men stare

Makes me never want to be stared at again

Because your eyes tracing my body parts feels like disrespect, and dirty, uncontrolled thoughts

Not a compliment to my figure

Because if it was a compliment

You wouldn’t have to look away when caught

And it wouldn’t make us uncomfortable

But men don’t care about our comfort

As long as their eyes get to endlessly look wherever they want

Because it is comfortable to them

To constantly demean us by treating us like cattle on the auctioning block

Pulling at our lips to see our teeth

And greedily laughing at the sick joke

Every woman bent over is a natural target

Anyone in tight clothing

A small waist

A pretty face

Just something

To stare at

Because blood is more valuable to the penis than brain these days

Unless the algorithm is wrong

What would I know

Just a girl forced into the trade

Who sells ass and face as my most prizeworthy possessions

Because as soon as my period started

A man told me so

Even when it was illegal

And even when I said no

So why am I so quiet?

Because no one listens

So what’s the point

And to the men who say

What about us?

We’re victims too

When the comics of buff men were made

You drew them

And even though girls talk about dick sizes

You won’t catch us looking

Or trying not to by looking away

Or subconsciously or consciously looking more than we should

Are we who we are or who we chose to be or who men told us to be?

Would this ever cross my mind if women wrote the history books?

Maybe I’d have a man just as self conscious as me

And maybe it would be my turn to tell them their anxieties are not real, and not my problem

And I’d laugh extra hard at the hot man’s jokes at work

And watch movies written by women, for women to drool over men’s bodies endlessly

And if a man complained, I’d say I wouldn’t know

Cause I wouldn’t know

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dorefasolsido · 5 months

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36.

1. What would you do if your pet suddenly started to talk to you, but nobody else could hear it? Would you assume you'd gone mad or simply be happy for the company? Would you try to convince your friends and family or would you be satisfied keeping it to yourself?

Lol I'd suspect I'm a little bit insane, but I probably wouldn't mind. I was always curious about what Luci would have to say to me and just in general what cats actually think. I'd be chatting to him for hours, though I doubt he'd want to chat with me as much lol.

2. When you answer the phone, what do you typically say? Is it different depending on whom the caller ID says it is (if you have caller ID)?

Usually I say "hello?" or if it's my parents or friends I say "hey" or something similar. I very rarely answer phone calls from unknown numbers since I absolutely hate talking on the phone.

3. Is there a food that you only recently started to like? If so, what is it and when did you start liking it? How often do you try again foods you don't like to see if your tastes have changed?

Hmm, I mean, it's not something I didn't like before and then started liking it, but for example, I've never tried Korean food until this summer, then I finally did and ended up loving it. Now I'm in the process of exploring various dishes, but everything I've tried so far has been delicious.

But as for how often I try foods I don't like to see if I will like it now, I don't usually do that. The only thing I really actively dislike are tomatoes, and there's no way I'm giving them a fourth chance.

4. Who would you NOT want to read the surveys you've posted on here? What would most likely happen if they did read it? Is there anyone you actually wish would read your survey answers but whom doesn't?

I don't want anyone I know to read this lol, that's a fear of mine actually and the reason I was so reluctant to start this even though I always liked the idea. I don't mind if internet strangers read the stuff I write here, but someone I actually know reading this and recognizing me would be mortifying. I don't think anything special would happen, I just like to have a place like this, separate from my everyday life, where I can vent about my feelings and maybe even the people I know.

5. What three things do you think will become obsolete in the next ten years, and why?

I think since technology changes so fast, it will be something we use now, but I'm not sure what. Maybe cash also. It's already starting to go in that direction in some countries.

6. Do you watch Glee? If so, which song do you want to hear on there that they have not yet done? If not, which TV show do you think has the best soundtrack?

I've never watched it, but as for the best soundtrack, Attack on Titan has absolute killer soundtrack. I'm not even super big on soundtrack in general but that show's music just hits different.

7. What do you find to be the most irritating piece of clothing to wear wet? Are you the type of person to go to great lengths to avoid getting your clothing wet? What about your hair?

I hate wet clothes omg. I'm not sure which I find more irritating tbh because all of it is horrible. I wouldn't say I go to some particularly great lengths to avoid it, as it usually doesn't happen unless I'm caught in a summer downpour.

As for hair, I don't really mind. It's a bit more annoying now that I have bangs since they go absolutely crazy when they're wet, but oh well.

8. How often do you witness discrimination? Do you ever speak up about it when you do see it? Or would you only speak up if the discrimination was directed toward you or someone close to you?

I wouldn't say I witness it too often since I live in a pretty homogenous country, but I've definitely seen it towards women or the Romani. If it happens in my circle, I'll call it out, but I'm a little bit too awkward to do it in public. Maybe one day I will, when my social anxiety goes away.

9. Do you think you would be able to pull off a crime perfectly, without being caught? What about other lies? For example, cheating on your partner without getting caught? Would you be able to get away with it?

No, I don't think pulling off a perfect crime is nearly as easy as it is sometimes portrayed in the media, and also, it's definitely not something I'd be very good at. Same with cheating, I just wouldn't see the point in that.

10. Are you the type to get embarrassed if your parent/parents acts/act your age? Do they do this often? Or do you think it's stupid to put an age on the way one can act?

I'm firmly believe it's stupid to put an age on how people should act because it's not like you turn 30 and suddenly you can't have fun. Or at least I hope so, since I'm two years away from that lol.

Anyway, I was never embarrassed by my parents and I also don't think they ever really tried to act my age or anything like that. They're just doing their own thing.

11. Do you know anyone who has divorced and remarried the same person? What do you/would you think of someone who does that?

So not quite remarried, but my dad's friend divorced his wife and then kept living with her and their daughter for years. It was an interesting arrangement to say the least, but if it worked for them, then I have no business thinking anything particular about it.

12. Do you say goodnight to anybody before you go to bed? If so, does it feel weird if you go to bed without saying it to them?

I say goodnight to my sister, but it doesn't feel too weird when I don't. Sometimes she just falls asleep earlier than me and sometimes I go to my hometown for a few days/weeks and she stays here. In those cases, I can't say goodnight to her and it's okay.

13. How do you react when you're scared? Do you scream, jump, cover your eyes, etc.?

If it's like a jumpscare, I mostly just flinch and slightly gasp.

14. Who is the best storyteller you know? What do you find best about their storytelling? Is there an interesting story of theirs you'd like to share?

Hmm, my uncle is pretty good at storytelling. He just has this way of talking that engages you right away and he really knows how to deliver the punchline or create suspense. I can't think of a specific example but yeah.

15. When you check your e-mail account, how much of it do you delete without even looking at it? Do you have a separate account for junk like this?

I never delete my emails lol. Maybe I should, but I just don't really bother, there's way too much.

16. Do you strongly dislike (or even hate) any bands or musical artists? If so, what caused such a strong negative emotion towards them?

Nope, not really. If something's not my thing, I'm just not going to listen. That's really all there is to it.

17. What are you listening to? Is it something you would normally be found listening to, or just something you've started listening to recently?

I listen to rock/metal, which I've been listening to basically since middle school, though maybe the bands have slightly changed. Also, now I'm definitely more into K-pop too, with BTS taking number one spot, of course. That's a pretty recent thing though.

18. Does/did your school bus stop directly in front of your house? If not, where does/did it stop?

Oh we don't have school buses here. At least not in my hometown, but I think even here in the capital, there are no actual school buses. I always went to school by foot anyway, since it was 5 minutes away from my house.

19. Do you parents have any collections? If so, what do you think of those collections?

My dad has a huge collection of vinyls which is actually so cool, I like to go through it once in a while and look at the covers. He also had a collection of his sports medals, but I'm not sure where that is anymore.

Mum mostly collects books, so we have plenty of those at home.

20. Are there any movies you watch when you're feeling anxious or depressed? If so, what are they, and what about them calms you down and/or lifts your spirits?

Hmm, I do usually turn to those cheesy high school comedies when I don't feel mentally well. They're just so simple and predictable that they're very comfortable, especially those I've watched many many times.

21. Would you rather see a band/artist perform in a small club, an arena, or at an outdoor venue? Why? Which one have you been to most recently?

That depends on the band/artist. I love big concerts in arenas/outdoor venues, but there's something pleasant and cozy about going to a club with 50+ people and enjoying a smaller gig too.

Most recently I've been to one of my favourite local cover band's gigs, I go there pretty much every month and it's always a fantastic time.

22. Do you have a favourite role of Johnny Depp's? If you don't like him, what is your favourite role of an actor you like?

I mean, probably Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean since that's a series of my youth lol

23. If you were in a competition to win your dream prize, and you were allowed to decide what the competition would be (trivia about your favourite band, a foot race, singing, etc.) , what would you choose and why?

I'm actually not sure there's anything I'd 100% be the best at lol

24. What is your least favourite thing about the English language? Are there any other languages you prefer besides English?

I guess if I had to pick one least favourite thing about English, it would be the articles. My native language doesn't have them so I still sometimes mess them up even though I've spoken English my entire life.

As for other languages, I really like Japanese. I like what little I know about how it works and I like how it sounds. I want to go back and try to properly learn it at some point.

25. Would you be upset if a long-term partner confessed that they had committed a serious crime before you met? How do you think it would affect your relationship?

I mean, there's no way it wouldn't affect the relationship. Say I've been with them for two years and they suddenly come and are like, oh yeah, I murdered someone five years ago, btw. Even if they did it in self-defense, it would be a problem since they never told me. It may be awkward to mention something like that on a first date, but it's also wrong not to mention it before things get serious.

26. Who, out of the people you know, do you think has the most messed-up relationship? Have you ever spoken up about it or do you stay out of it? Have you ever been in a relationship that was really messed-up?

Well, Ochi, my sorta friend. He's been in this on and off relationship with a guy who's involved with some pretty dangerous people and everything I've heard about their relationship has been beyond toxic. Like, I really think Ochi might be dragged into that world too and that won't end well for him. And I have tried talking to him many times, everyone tried, but he just doesn't listen. I'm not sure if anything can be done unless he realizes how things stand on his own.

As for myself, not that messed up, but I have had a pretty unhealthy situationship for a while.

27. What emotion have you been feeling most commonly lately? Do you like feeling this way? If not, have you done anything to try to change it?

I'm not really sure, but whatever it is, I don't think I particularly like it.

28. Why did you/your parents choose to live where you do now? Would you move right now if you were able to? Why/why not? If so, where would you like to go?

So basically, when I was choosing where to attend university, I could've chosen a city closer to my town or the capital which is a bit further away. I chose the capital without hesitation, and I'm glad I did because it's far more exciting here, and had I moved to the other city, I would've likely ended up moving back to my hometown and that would have been horrible.

I quite like it here, I've liked it from the start and I don't expect that to change too much. But I would also move somewhere abroad if I could; maybe Germany, or maybe even Japan.

29. Is there a song that you think, lyrically, describes your childhood? Have you ever had a song describe your life perfectly, each and every word? How does it make you feel when you come across songs like this?

I don't know about my childhood, but I always felt like H. by Tool somehow speaks to me, even though it doesn't actually describe my life. Like, it hits just the right strings within me, and it's difficult to explain why, though I've been trying to figure it out for years.

Also, Jimin's Like Crazy or Alone.

30. Do you tend to befriend people who are of a similar, smaller or larger weight than yourself? (Even if it doesn't matter to you, you can admit it.) Has it always been this way?

I'm really not sure lol. I think most of my friends are around my weight? It's never been a factor for me, and since I was underweight for a long time, most people I befriended were heavier than me.

31. List a random fact (each) you know about 5 of your favourite survey takers:

There are a few on here I've been following, but I'm still way too new and awkward to tag them and say anything lol.

32. Whenever you have a question about something random, are you more likely to ask Google or someone you know? Does it depend on what exactly you want to know? Do you do both?

Probably google it, though it depends, if I'm mid-conversation with someone, then I ask them, and if they don't know, then I google.

33. How old were you when you went on your first date? Was there anything you would change about the experience? How do you think it shaped your expectations? If you've never been on a date, what did you like best about the last meal you ate?

Well I've never been on like a proper date, so last meal I ate was spaghetti, and I just generally like spaghetti.

34. If you had to serve a meal to an ambassador from another country that symbolized your country's culture, what would you choose? Do you think s/he would love it as much as you do?

Stuffed paprika maybe, that's super popular in this region.

35. If someone broke into your house and robbed you, what could they take that would piss you off or upset you the most? To what lengths would you go to get it back? Has something like this already happened to you before?

Definitely my laptop or my phone. My whole life is on my phone, and I need my laptop for work. I would contact the police for sure, but tbh, they aren't that great at actually retrieving stolen stuff around here. And our house has been broken into twice (well the door was unlocked, so not really broken into), but they didn't take anything very expensive.

36. Do you enjoy watching the special features found on most DVDs? What do you usually enjoy more: the deleted scenes, the bloopers, the audio commentary, or the behind-the-scenes footage?

I did like to watch behind-the-scenes footage back in the day when I watched DVDs.

37. Do you care at all about the Stanley Cup playoffs? If so, which team are you rooting for, and is it different than the team you're sure will make it to the cup? If you don't care, is your family the type to get right into a sport, or is the topic of sports rarely spoken about in your house?

I actually have no clue what that is lol.

38. Have you ever had your own flower garden? If so, what are/were your favourite flowers to plant?

I haven't, I'm not a plant person at all.

39. Would you ever date someone who is exactly like your youngest (or oldest, if you're the youngest) sibling? Why/why not?

I get along with my sister well, so I guess it would make sense, but I also think such a person might be a little too intense for me lol. I don't know, maybe that's not too bad anyway.

40. Was there something you were afraid of as a child that just seems silly to you now?

I remember a film I caught once with some aliens that had eyes directly on their brains and they scared the shit out of me. I actually found that film later and thought they looked really funny.

#personal #surveys

0 notes

heysatanitsyourgirl · 2 years

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Do you guys get those nights where something really small happens during the day and then at night everything spirals for absolutely no reason?

Tonight mine is : my mum told me during the day that her and my dad don’t think it’s a good idea to paint my room a new colour when I’d be the one paying for the paint and stuff (it’s been the same for roughly 8 years and my mum picked it out) because in a few years they’d have to give my room to my brother since he won’t be able to share with my sister anymore.

Which has somehow spiralled to me

•being an absolute burden on my family

•having a panic attack over the future (I want to be an actress) e.g I’m never going to be financially stable in ongoing uk housing crisis and I’m going to end up in a dead end job since I’ll have 0 qualifications outside of acting.

•nothing feels real and I’m only calm when I’m maladaptive daydreaming. (Context: I was a 2020 leaver and failed my mock maths gcse which you are required to pass in England, I wasn’t nervous results despite the fact I should have been and wasn’t relieved when I passed them all which I should have been.) it was more oh a ‘oh that’s something I guess’ shrug kinda reaction.

•I’m not prepared for life at all because I’m not a functioning person, who isolated themselves from everyone because I have little concept of time and have no idea how to keep my thoughts straight (today I started watching a movie and 3 tv shows, didn’t even end up 10 minutes though any of them because I got distracted by even the smallest of things). Because of this I can never stick with things. Oh that thing I treats you? Sorry you’ll never be able to look into it more, it will only exist as you currently perceive it unless you accidentally stumble across new information.

•I can’t handle interactions with other people at ALL. Most I can spend is maybe 2 hours with someone depending who it is, without wanting to crawl back into my room or at least be alone. ( being around others is so tiering and often makes me want to claw at my skin, thank you acting skills).

• I hate reality. I hate how nothing is real. I hate how we’re just specs on a rock where everything about everyone in the world is completely made up and I have to follow ridiculous social and societal rules instead of just being. I hate how I’m forced to exist inside of this stupid construct we’ve made for ourselves. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

• another thing I hate? Other then my entire personality and way my brain functions I also hate how I look !! I want to tear my body apart and want to re-shape my face like I’m a sim. So that’s fun I guess.

• and on top of all that, in convinced that everybody hates me !! Well maybe not everyone hates me but no one likes me. I’m just sort of there. An inconvenience at most. I could be messaging my closest friend (for the first time in weeks) and I think wow they probably are going ‘great she’s messaging me again. Guess I’ll just play along for 5 minutes and give small responses maybe then she’ll get the hint’ !!! .

And it just keeps looping in a circle over and over and over again.

#in conclusion:#what the fuck brain #venting

0 notes

1kook · 3 years

Text

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting two

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good ratings: e for everyone <3 wc: 3.7k

notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎

Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.

By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates.

That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens.

You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class.

Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him.

Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all.

You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly.

Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months.

Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.

Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got.

Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career.

The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course.

“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.”

Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you.

Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen.

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12

You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.)

You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side.

Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly.

It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil.

Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”

Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester.

Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness.

His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you.

Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face.

“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!”

It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things.

One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—

—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone.

Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought.

It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you.

“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news.

“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”

So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward.

With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason.

He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—

You quickly look away.

Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom.

Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same.

Apparently not.

Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—

A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed.

It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile.

Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.”

At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“

“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck.

He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot.

(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”

At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi.

“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.”

Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.

A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face.

It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments.

Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.”

Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.”

“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”

Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”

Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character.

Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester.

You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”

On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”

Right.

You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile. He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.”

Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?”

You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh.

This man was dangerous for your heart.

After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.”

Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—

“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you.

“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well.

You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook.

“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”

Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#mine

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead.

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired.

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits.

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights.

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest.

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face.

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry.

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair.

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic?

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly.

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why.

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber.

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God.

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for.

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?”

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place.

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening.

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you.

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look.

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around.

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too.

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing.

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls.

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

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marvelouslytrekking · 3 years

Text

The Escaped Bride {1/?}

Ch 1: The Arrangement

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Summary: An arranged marriage to your childhood best friend isn’t exactly how you imagined it but you also couldn’t say you were too upset to be marrying James Barnes. Word Count: 1741 Warning: arranged marriage, maybe a swear word? A/N: Alrighty folks so I got this idea in like December and have been working on it since. I have quite a bit of it written and am not longer capable of keeping it to myself. Updates on this probably won’t be very consistent but I have most of it plotted so that might help. Please let me know what you think!! Feedback fuels my soul!

Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

“There is no getting out of this.” Your mother told you sternly. She was not having your fits about the marriage.

“I don’t understand why I can’t choose someone to marry myself!” You huffed.

“This was set up while you were just young. You cannot back out of it now.” Your mother told you, “You two have been inseparable. I don’t know why you are fighting this so much. You aren’t going to find anyone better than James.”

“I want to have a say in my life!”

“Enough of this.” You heard your fathers voice boom from the doorway. It caused you to cringe. “You will marry James, and I will not hear another complaint from you about it.”

“Yes father,” You sighed.

“Now, James is here to see you. You will go, and be civil with him.” He informed you.

You just nodded, walking past your father to go meet James. While you were mad about this marriage, you were excited to see James. Your mother wasn’t wrong, you and James were inseparable. You truly loved James, but you couldn’t stand the idea of having to marry him, and him to not love you. You couldn’t stand the idea that he may one day resent you.

“Hello James,” You smiled, “It’s good to see you.”

“My dear,” He smiled as he saw you walking up to him. “Care to go on a walk?”

“I would love to.” You were relieved at the idea of getting out of your house and away from your parents.

You followed him down a path that the two of you had taken many times. There was an awkward silence that had settled between you. This was the first time you had seen each other since your parents told you the news of what was to happen.

“I have been made aware that you are not exactly happy about this arrangement,” James was finally the one to break the silence and you could hear a small amount of hurt in his voice at the statement.

“I am not thrilled with the idea that my whole life was planned out by someone else,” You told him, “But if I was to be promised to anyone, I guess I am glad it is you.”

James sighed at that. As teens you had spent many days talking of your futures, there was a point where you even talked of marrying each other, but one thing that was always consistent was your anger at watching friends and the older girls in your social circle getting married off without their say.

“I wish it wasn’t being forced on you either,” Bucky admitted, “But I do not care about the fact this was arranged by our parents, I want to marry you. I love you and wouldn’t want to be with anyone but you. If it hadn’t already been in the works, I would be proposing to you myself”

You stopped in place hearing him admit that to you. He stopped as well, turning to you with a look of hope in his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since we were children,” You told him truthfully, “I just couldn’t bear the thought of marrying you if you did not share those feelings. It would have broken my heart.”

“I would never break your heart,” James said with a seriousness in his voice, reaching out and cupping your face in his hands. You place your hands over his, trying to ground yourself so you don’t get lost into the love in his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

He already leaned down, inches away from your lips but he paused, waiting for your answer. When you nodded, he closed the distance quickly, kissing you slowly.

While it may not be the first time you had shared a kiss, this was different, it was slow, meant to translate the love felt between you two. You pulled away with a smile, finding yourself suddenly very excited about being able to get married. Your marriage was now the freedom you craved and not the prison you feared it to be.

“You know the only problem I have with this?” You asked as you continued to walk, now hand in hand.

“What’s that?” James asked you curiously.

“I have to go back there and admit to both mother and father that they were right.” You groaned. You could already see the smug look your mother would have when you suddenly became happy about the ideal marriage. James laughed at your admission. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry love,” He raised his hands in surrender but still had a smile on his face, “I just thought you’d have a critique about me going back to sea or the church or something. I should have known it was just you being as stubborn as ever.

“You’re going back to sea soon?” You asked, suddenly worried he was going to be gone for a while again. You hated that he had joined the Navy, but you had not been able to convince him not to.

“Not until we’re married.” He told you.

“And then you will leave your new wife alone in a big house by herself?” You gave him a frown.

“I am sure she’ll find plenty of things to occupy her time.” He rolled his eyes at you, “I have been working very hard to complete a library for her.”

Your eyes lit up at that. James was always gifting you with books and the idea that he was creating a library for you had your heart swelling. “I guess she’ll survive the time without him.”

You had unfortunately made it back to your house. “See I told you, look at that smug look.” You whispered to James as you saw your mother watching you reenter the house with him.

That was the last you were able to talk to him as you were quickly whisked away after entering the house. Your mother and his were already starting to plan things and they wanted your opinion. It was all very overwhelming but you were at least now wanting this wedding, so you were able to give your opinion much more freely.

This was how the next few weeks went. You would barely be able to sneak a few moments with James before you were swept away for a fitting, or to pick flowers, or to decide on bridesmaid’s dresses. Everything was a whirlwind but you were just happy to know that in only a short time you would be Mrs. Barnes.

You were currently at your final dress fitting. The wedding was just a week away and you couldn’t be more excited to finally be marrying your childhood best friend.

“Excuse me ma’am,” One of the handmaids interrupted, “James is here and he requested to speak with you, he says it’s urgent.”

You frowned at that. You had no idea what he would deem as urgent to interrupt your last fitting.

“We are basically done here.” You told her, “Tell him I just need a moment to change and I will meet him in the drawing room in a moment.”

You took one final look at the dress before quickly signaling for everyone to help you get undressed. You got back into your normal clothes as quickly as you possibly could.

“James, what is it?” You asked as you finally entered the drawing room. He was pacing around the room which only made you more nervous.

“I am so sorry, my love,” James sighed as he walked up to you, “We must postpone the wedding.”

“Why on earth?” Your frown deepened.

“I have to go back out to sea,” He told you.

“You promised you weren’t leaving until after the wedding, James.”

“I know, and I wish I had a choice, I truly do.” The look in his eyes told you he was sincere, “There are pirates threatening a major port that we cannot lose, they need all the help they can get.”

“How long?” You asked.

“Shouldn’t be long at all,” He told you, “I will be back before you know it, and we will then get married and finally be together, I promise.”

“You better come back to me,” You said softly. The idea that he was leaving to fight off pirates left you terrified for his safety.

“I will, I could never leave you.” He leaned down and gave you a brief kiss.

“I love you,” You whispered against his lips.

“I love you too,” He replied “I can’t wait to get back to you and get married.”

“Be safe,” You told him as he broke away from you to leave.

You hated the pit you felt in your stomach as you watched him leave. You felt it every time he left to go to sea. He assured you that he knew what he was doing and he would always make it back, and so far he had but it didn’t make it any easier.

You didn’t sleep well in the nights that followed. Your mother and father had to deal with getting everything delayed but make sure it would be ready when he returned. Not only were they antsy to marry you off, they knew that is what you wanted.

You were relaxing under a tree, reading a book, trying to distract yourself when you noticed a carriage in your driveway. You watched as a man in a uniform stepped out, and you felt your stomach drop. You knew that James’ parents were over visiting with yours and discussing more wedding arrangements. You had a feeling that whatever the man was saying it was not going to be good.

You were quick to get up and rush to the door as well. Whatever news he was going to give you wanted to be in the room to hear it.

You made it into the house quickly and made your way to the study.

“I am sorry to inform you, but James Barnes was killed in action by Pirate Roberts.”

You couldn’t help the sob that slipped past your lips. You could barely comprehend the thought that James was gone. You had even been able to start your life with him and he was just dead? You felt yourself collapse but were caught by your handmaid before you hit the ground.

“No, he can’t” You sob into her side, “He promised me he would come home,”

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msookyspooky · 3 years

Text

Random Headcanon's for the Scream Character's

Billy really was a normal sweet kid and a good boyfriend before his mom left. Everyone paints him as always being crazy and his mom just triggered him but I honestly don't think that's true. Sidney and her parents would not have been okay with her dating a bad boy from Sophomore year onward. Sure it happens and maybe she saw past it but If Sidney would have seen how Billy acted with Randy in the videostore; instant break up imo. He could not have hid that side of himself for two years straight. Remember, they were dating a whole year prior to Maureen cheating. My theory is he may or may not have had a 'side' to him or other undiagnosed disorder in his gene pool (Mrs Loomis snapping too.) but Billy's psychotic breakdown was mostly situational + groomed by Roman and there were other things in his life that probably were boiling over and Debbie leaving him completely broke him. So, he was in an extremely vulnerable state when Roman came around and molded him. THAT is why Sidney trusted him so much in Scream before the phone incident and even somewhat after. Because Billy was a good boyfriend before her mom's murder and she would have never suspected it. Now how her or no one else could see him tumbling into madness or at least deep depression before Roman sank his talons in is beyond me. Maybe she did and he shrugged her off? Either way, the situation made him shut down all empathy towards other people and changed him. His empathy is towards his mom, possibly his dad since Hank never died and that is it. He has symptoms of a psychopath and even though that is usually genetic I 100% think a psychotic breakdown could do it as well.(Don't come for me bitch I'm not trained in any of this just using what I know from research 🧍‍♀️) If his mom never left and Roman didn't come along; Billy would have never been a killer

Contrary to Billy's situational psychological crazyness. Stu was always going to kill. I don't even think it's is he a sociopath vs a psychopath argument as much as he is just disconnected from reality. (Though he would most likely be a Sociopath if he was bc of his lack of boundaries as well impulsive behavior. Thinking killing was a game.) Stu possibly suffered abuse as a child. He was terrified of his parents more than the law. Either A. They abused him and permanently terrified him. Or B. He really has a stunted mentality and thinks of killing as a game and fears his parents more than the law bc the consequences are just not clicking LIKE A KID. He's like a giant little kid with no sense of how things work. He still could have been abused and that is what stunted his growth mentally. However, his violent tendacies were always there. Never preplanned just urgent anger or sadistic glee he couldn't control. Billy just suggested the killings and he was instantly down. Like, hell yeah cool. Most ppl no matter what mental illness they have or how severe are not that easy to convince. Whose to say he hadn't killed before or was planning to? My theory is he is so disconnected from reality that killing really is a giant fun game to him and he would have eventually murdered someone even without Billy.

Idk why this isn't more thought of throughout the fandom. Billy and Stu did not rape Maureen bc the evidence would have pointed to someone other than the guy they were framing. Cotton Weary had sex with Maureen, left, Billy and Stu taunted her on the phone and lured her away, they killed her, police suspected rape bc A. they didn't know about the affairs. B. Cotton's semen or her discharge or bruising being there. They naturally assumed it was rape but in actuality no one raped her. Cotton's dna from their affair incriminated him even more. Not saying that Billy and Stu would think of rape as morally wrong enough not to do in their book BUT it would have been stupid on their part and made it obvious there were other suspects besides Cotton.

Stu isn't a lapdog. Stu literally revealed on the phone he was going to throw Billy under the bus. He hesitated giving him the knife. Stu is like a kid. He most likely suffered trauma that regressed his mental age. He's eager to please, desperate for attention and most likely fawns over people he feels close to in an obsessive way. He could have even been in love with Billy and vice versa which is why he was so eager to please him. However, he was not nearly as stupid or a lapdog as much as the fandom makes him out to be. I think Randy saying it in the videostore sealed the deal for people even though he was only acting like that bc he was helping Billy too and covering their tracks. Billy was the one with the plan. Stu just tagged along out of the urge to kill. But he 100% had his own plan to kill and bail if needed. My mind is made up on that.

There was a third killer in Scream and it wasn't a teen or Roman. You're telling me two 17-18 yr old guys could come up with every detail? Roman only told Billy the basics. How did they get tactical police shoes? How did they get to the houses so fast and leave just as quickly? How did they both take down and restrain Steve or Neil by themselves enough to tie them up? Sure, Stu was deranged and tall but these two lanky teens were able to take on a football player with muscles and a grown man? Possible but stil meh to me. Their plan was too thorough for two teen boys to come up with on their own. Both crazy. One completely unhinged and disconnected from reality and the other so blinded by revenge he was stupid at times. (Fucking stabbing yourselves before killing Neil and Sidney. Not even thinking to AT LEAST tie Sidney up as well...Really? Jill was smarter in 4 in that respect tbh.) I truly think their was an adult involved in Scream helping them or guiding them. I would say Roman if it wasn't for him going back to Hollywood. But Billy and Stu had help DURING the killings 100%.

Randy is not this mecha survival final boy like the fandom thinks. The kid watched one too many horror movies and based them on real life. Scream itself is making fun of slasher movies and Randy was supposed to be the narrator setting most of the dumb rules up into play. Everyone is like "omg that's so out of character how he died in 2" no its not. If the rules work then him losing his virginity did him in. He was drinking, he was pissed off and not thinking. Plus Mrs. Loomis attacked in broad daylight, something no one thought of. (And the whole debate how a middle aged woman could pull him in. LOOK. Randy is a fucking small guy and she grabbed him backwards, using momentum to haul him back into the van. PLUS she was enraged at what he said about Billy. Adrenaline is a hell of a super drug as far as testing the bodies limits. I have seen tiny girls become the hulk when they are pissed I'm jus sayin) Point is, Randy was just a teen boy that loved horror movies. He was not some survival guide especially since it showed him even on the couch not aware of Ghostface behind him. He was a giant satire showing how even he didn't always follow the rules of slasher movies and how dumb the rules are.

Tatum loved Sidney and had more chemistry with her than Billy. I am not saying they weren't just BFF's and I don't want to ruin female friendship with constantly thinking "omg they are gay together" any time two women are close. BUT it is strange that it was only those two as friends especially since Sidney didn't fit into Tatum's popular social circle. It's like Tatum went out of her way to be friends with Sidney. Maybe they were childhood friends and that's why? But I think it's entirely possible that just like it's speculated that Stu and Billy were secretly in love; Tatum possibly was at least bi and in love with Sidney.

#idk just getting random headcanons out there.#scream #headcanons

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blahkugo · 4 years

Text

Sleepless

Shouta Aizawa X Reader (BNHA)

Warnings: 18+, bondage, bratty rc, over-stimulation, umm it’s just pure filth sandwiched between some fluff

Word Count: 3.9k

A good night’s rest? You’ve never heard of her!

“At least take off your heels before you throw yourself into bed,” your boyfriend’s voice rings out, still deeply agitated from a long night of feigned smiles and interest. You know that tone well— the exasperated sigh typically saved for his students at U.A— but the room is spinning too fast for you to take heed of his reprimand.

“M’too tired,” you slur your words, face down against your mattress.

The two of you had been at a pro-hero gala, or as Shouta called it, a “gaudy show of riches for politicians and government dickheads.” It had taken almost all of your energy, and a lot of homemade dishes, to persuade him to accept the invitation; however, he had followed through. He behaved properly all night, smiled and socialized with every partygoer that approached you, and even ensured the vicious insults on the tip of his tongue were whispered into your ears only after each person had turned away. You deemed the night a success, despite waving off Shouta’s warnings about that fourth glass of champagne you downed.

“You’re going to get our covers dirty, idiot.” You can’t help but feel your heart flutter at that word— our. Be it the hundredth or thousandth time, you don’t think you’ll ever get over hearing him refer to the two of you as one. It had taken years for him to warm up to you, after all. While he considers it endearing now, you’re positive Shouta had initially found your constant laughter and positive nature unbearable, thinking of you as simply another nuisance to avoid; never had he met someone who reduced his usual threatening tone to something playful or entertaining. And little did either of you know, he would slowly come to adore the way his scolding amused you.

No amount of persuasion from his students or other heroes can convince you Shouta is actually intimidating. If anything, his constant stoicism only compels you to misbehave more. You love pressing his buttons, take pleasure in watching him get riled up and lose his calm demeanor. But as of this very moment, you’re simply too tired, and a bit too tipsy, to play along. You wave off his words with a flick of your wrist, only to feel a tug at your ankle.

“Wha–”

“Stop squirming. I’m trying to take them off,” he struggles with the straps woven intricately up your calves, “damned things are more tangled than my cloth.” When he finally removes them, you feel the pads of his fingertips graze your legs softly. Shocks travel your entire body as he pays special attention to the indents adorning your skin— drawbacks of the tight laces that are quite easy to disregard when they urge him to touch you so sweetly.

Shouta stalks away for a moment, only to return with a cotton pad and makeup remover. You’re surprised he even knows what products to use, though you know you shouldn’t be. He has spent countless minutes watching you complete your night routine intently, though usually his stare is paired with a sleepy grumble to hurry up and join him in bed.

He shifts you into a sitting position, wiping tenderly at your cheek while you pull off your false lashes.

“Those are fake?” He snorts, baffled.

“Mhhm, I’m prettier without them, right?” You poke fun at him, knowing he’ll ignore the cheesy question. A faint heat rises on his cheeks.

“Shut up and put this on,” he nudges one of his t-shirts into your arms before he slides your strapless dress down your body. Even with your eyes half-shut, you can feel his charged stare ogling every hill and valley of your naked form. His fingers barely skim you— a purposeful maneuver to focus on the task at hand— but your body jerks into his grasp, keen for more. Sleepy or not, you’d never waste an opportunity for a quickie. You know just how swiftly a few words and caresses on his part could have you bucking and sobbing, like putty in his han– “(Y/N), stop. You’re drunk and half-asleep.”

“Only tipsy and a quarter asleep, thank you very much.” Your eyes flutter open to see the beginnings of a smile touch his lips, but he just barely holds it back. He’s trying his damn hardest to remain stern, how cute. “Shou,” you mewl, elongating his name in the hopes that he’ll budge.

“Don’t pout at me,” he taps a chiding finger against your bottom lip, “the answer is no. I still have work to do.” Ignoring your whined protests, Shouta walks out of the bedroom. Seconds later, you hear his office door shut, a sign that he’ll be in there long into the night.

Any inkling of sleepiness your body possessed is gone without a trace, now feeling nothing but an intense heat coursing the skin your boyfriend brushed, and the alcohol left running through your veins only intensifies that warmth. You turn yourself over in bed, naively will yourself to succumb to sleep and deal with the ache tomorrow; however, your body has other plans. Your thighs press together on their own, desperate for any sort of relief to quell the throbbing between your legs, but it’s no use. Looks like you’re getting up.

With each step towards his office, you find yourself more impassioned. Who does Shou think he is anyways, leaving you alone in such a needy state? It’s not fair. He gives you the slightest taste of his touch and then cruelly rips it away. So if anything, it’s his fault that your body won’t rest until completely appeased— until he soothes the burn. Besides, you’ll be damned if you’re going to allow him the pleasure of hearing your moans through the thin walls knowing he goaded you into touching yourself.

Upon walking through the door of his workspace, you’re greeted with the sight of your boyfriend, the stealthy pro-hero, seated ever-so casually at his desk. He has a hand pressed adamantly against his temple and his hair up in a messy half-bun. So badly do you want to run your hands through it, tug the clip off so you can watch those beautiful, dark locks tumble down his shoulders. You always catch yourself silently hoping for a piece to fall in his eyes so that you can reach out and tuck it behind his ear, delighted when you have any excuse to stroke the soft waves between your fingertips.

“Shou,” you mumble, one hand rubbing at lidded eyes. The white glow of the computer screen washes over him as he turns to you, and you feel your breath hitch again at the Adonis in front of you.

He’s opted out of wearing any sort of top. Instead, gray joggers hang low on his hips, allowing you to feast your eyes on his lean chest and softly sculpted v-lines. A dark line of hair trails down into his pants, and you feel your mouth water at the idea of licking a long stripe up his navel.

“Can’t sleep.” You’re aware it comes out a whine, don’t care to correct your tone because it may just convince him to join you in bed. He rolls his eyes, your name flowing off his tongue with a low sigh— music to your ears.

“I have work to catch up on since somebody forced me to go to that stupid gala,” the accusation is probably sincere, but you smile anyways.

“Please,” there’s that whine again, “just five minutes.” This time your words are accompanied by a quick yank at the hem of your t-shirt. Your cleavage makes an appearance, and when you see his eyes wander up towards the supple globes— tongue just barely poking out to slide across his bottom lip— you know you’ve got him beat. He mutters under his breath, but the only words you catch are something along the lines of ‘pampered brat’.

Well, spoiled or not your methods work, and he’s the one indulging your whims anyways. Being curled up against Shouta’s sturdy chest, you find the fatigue of a long night creeping up on you once again. His close proximity is enough to relax you; all of your senses are engulfed in his presence, saturated with him. Your body gladly welcomes his scent with every inhale— clean laundry, aftershave, and something a bit woodier that can only be described as ‘Shouta’. Though he shaved this morning, newly grown stubble scruffs against you every time you nuzzle against his jaw. Slender fingers tangle in your hair, smoothing lazy circles into your scalp. And with your ear pressed to his chest, you realize the slow, steady drum of his heartbeat just might actually lull you into a deep sleep.

But that’s all before you hitch a leg around his hip to pull him closer. At the sensation of your heat nudged tightly against him, you feel his heartbeat rise rapidly. If any thoughts of sleep linger in your mind, the prospect of riling Shouta up— and perhaps securing an orgasm or two in the process— throws them out the window once again.

Your fingertips begin to caress his shoulders subtly, ear still pressed to his chest to listen for any jumps in his rhythm. The less he notices your movements, the easier it’ll be to overwhelm him all at once. When your fingers don’t incite any noticeable response, you run them through his hair instead. At the same time, you feign discomfort at the position you’re in and twist your hips slightly, making sure to press your core against him harder. You feel his breath hitch under you, and then your hair being jerked harshly.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he forces you to look up at his cloudy eyes, always ringed with darkness no matter how much rest he receives. Caught. You flash him your sweetest pout, gazing up at him through dainty lashes. A slight ‘hm?’ leaves your lips, but within seconds, they’re attached to his neck, shamelessly kissing and nibbling at the sweet spot near his jaw. “If you’re not going to behave on your own, I’ll make you.” Your thighs tighten around his hips, goosebumps trailing your arms at the clear-cut threat.

“Do it then,” you urge between kisses, now peppering them up his jaw. Your teeth kiss the shell of his ear before you whisper, “or I’ll just keep misbehaving, daddy.”

In an instant, your face is shoved into the mattress, arms crossed behind your back with Shouta’s cock straining against you through his pants. Rigid cotton brushes against your folds and you realize that perhaps he was expecting this turn of events more than he let on, because the fucker never bothered giving you a change of underwear.

“You’re such a needy slut,” he spits, heated breath fanning your neck while he tightens his grasp around your wrists. “Can’t go one night without getting me worked up, huh?” His free hand darts under your shirt, now kneading and pinching at your ass.

“Nope,” you bite back, always ecstatic to provide sassy retorts, especially when he’s seething like this.

A stinging pain travels your body when he slaps the globe of your ass. Once, twice, five times, each spanking invoking a louder gasp until tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“Are you done acting up?” Shouta’s tone is slow and composed, almost disinterested. If not for his heaving chest pressed against your back, you would believe him unaffected by the punishment.

You, on the other hand, are very obviously flustered. Tears stream down your face freely now, and you’re positive the spanking has left a blazing handprint on your cheek as a reminder for days to come. Shouta gives you a final, petty love tap to shake you out of your thoughts. “I don’t have all night.”

But you’re left unsatisfied, the throbbing between your thighs only worsened by his harsh welts and complete neglect of your clit. He hasn’t made a single motion towards your glistening cunt, probably won’t ever if you simply take his discipline lying down.

“What if I’m not?” The words leave your mouth hesitantly, face turning to stare back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. He doesn’t say a word, his own eyes narrowing and lips quivering into a disgusted scowl. Even though you’ve asked for this, know exactly what situation you’ve gotten yourself into, your heart quickens at the thrill of seeing your partner so worked up. He may not be outwardly angry— Shouta has always been a man who prefers quick, biting remarks over piercing screams and smashing glass— but his mannerisms tell you everything you need to know. It’s going to be a long, sleepless night.

You feel the tight, unforgiving fabric knotted around your body before you’re even aware of what’s happening. Nimble fingers quickly wrap your arms in place. Then, your legs are bent at the knees and tied securely to your wrists. Only your taut midriff and breasts touch the mattress, leaving your sopping core exposed, no way to flail or deny him entrance. You’re his to do whatever he pleases with.

“Behave.” He wraps your hair around his wide palm and yanks hard, a pained cry leaving you at the prickling in your scalp. His fingers graze your slit, but never touch you where you need him. It’s absolutely maddening. You buck into him to no avail— the cloth wraps too firmly around your limbs.

“Shou, I– I, please,” you’re practically sobbing, his name leaving your lips over and over like a prayer. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve angered him.

“Who said you could speak?” He tugs harder on your locks. The motion rocks your skull, all nerves standing on end. It fucking hurts, but the action has your slit quivering all the same. “Are you going to be a good little whore now?”

“Yes, Shou.” The response wins you a sharp slap to the ass, the sore cheek. You suppress a loud wail, correcting yourself quickly. “Y-Yes daddy, I’ll behave.” He doesn’t respond, only lets out a low growl and loosens his grip on your hair.

Then, his presence is gone. He’s moved off the bed, and your cunt pulsates at the number of delicious things he may do next.

A slam rings out from your bedside dresser and he’s back within seconds. Something foreign, hard and long, is pressed against your tight hole. No stretching, no warning, he simply sinks the toy into your slick cunt. After a few merciless thrusts you’re whimpering softly, choking back pleas. If he wanted you to beg, you’d know it.

“Is this what you wanted?” The dildo is driven into you faster. “Is this what you were grinding like a bitch in heat for?” His words are spit like venom, tone disappointed— appalled— with you, but it only fuels your steady ascension to orgasm. You’re teetering closer and closer to the edge, but you just need a bit more. His cock, a finger on your clit, anything.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You can’t help the onslaught of moans that spill from your lips in between pants. His hands begin kneading at your ass again, right cheek still flaming with every touch. If he’d only remove the bindings, now digging tightly into your wrists and ankles, you’d be able to hump back onto the toy as you so desperately wish to.

He stills all at once, leaving you distraught and gasping. If you cry out, you’ll only be met with harsh reprimands. You want to sob— for his touch, for a break, for anything to soothe the ache in your core.

You hear it before you feel it.

A small buzzing noise as something is clicked on. Then, vibrations wracking your insides, your clit— a slew of pleasure as the dildo pulses. You sigh loudly, that stubborn itch finally being appeased by the pressure of the toy.

“Is my pretty little slut enjoying herself?” Shouta laughs behind you, voice still cold and filled with loathing. It’s as though he’s repulsed by your desire, your ceaseless need for him. You mewl loudly at the thought. “Mhm, and you’re going to continue enjoying yourself,” you feel the bed dip as he steps away, “until I finish my work.”

The fucking bastard. He’s leaving you tied up and helpless with a sex toy on the highest setting. He knows you’ll be a drooling mess for him, probably only half-conscious, by the time he’s back.

“N- no Shou, please.” Your protests do nothing to sway him. He simply snickers and walks out of the bedroom, leaving you to writhe and wail on your own. And God, does it feel good. Your stomach pulls taut as you rut against the bed like– like an animal. In a constant cycle of edging and ebbing, your orgasms build and build and build until you’re hit full force, only to begin all over again. It’s equal parts satisfying and unfulfilling, because fuck, do you just want your boyfriend’s cock inside you. It’s all you can think of— his warmth, his hands roaming your body, sweet, degrading nothings whispered into your ear while he pounds into you.

You lose track of time, aren’t even sure at this point whether your body is spasming or simply attempting to dispel the thick length inside you. The pleasure has turned to an entirely different ache, swollen clit now abused by the constant vibrations. Your voice is run hoarse, face carved into a permanent wince. And despite your attempts to stay quiet, chokes and gasps still rip through your throat. Even Shouta’s cloth is soaked through with the scorching sweat enveloping your body.

Though absolutely exhausted, you’re conscious enough to hear his quick steps as he makes his way to the bedroom. You can sense the smirk plastered across his face without even seeing it.

“Tired out?” Fingertips ghost over the cloth and across your painfully numb calves, nerves jumping at the feeling. “Ah’, you’ve soaked the bedspread.” A fierce blush runs across your skin, humiliated at the sight you must seem to him— a drooling, high-strung mess. He either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore the way your body shakes at every prod.

All you can do is let out a meager ‘Mmph’, your brain too scrambled to form anything close to words, let alone coherent sentences. “If you use your words, I’ll consider taking the toy out.” Shouta’s ruthless; he knows every inch of your body, your reactions, like the back of his hand. Of course he’d ask you to use your words. He lives to watch you come undone, thrives off the pain etched onto your features.

“Please,” the request is drawn out— paused midway to let loose another gasp— and dripping in desperation. “I can’t– I just-” It’s all you can manage in your state.

“Seems you’ve been fucked stupid,” he chuckles darkly, though the vibrations wracking your cunt finally come to a halt and the dildo is swiftly removed. Your core clenches at the emptiness. “But I haven’t had the chance to stuff this tight little pussy full,” he slaps a harsh palm against your slit, making sure to wipe the slick that now coats his palm all across your cheek. If you weren’t aware of how soaked you were before, Shouta makes damn sure that you do now. The most you can work out in response is a feeble squeak.

One of Shouta’s hands strokes at your matted hair from behind, agile fingers tidying the disheveled strands. The other rubs harsh circles on your clit; you twitch incessantly, sparks running through every inch of your body. “There’s that pained little face I love,” he grabs at your cheeks roughly, forcing your lips into a ‘o’ while grinding into your calf. “Fuck.”

Your legs and arms slump onto the mattress as soon as the cloth is unbound. Every muscle in your body aches with overuse; numbness buzzes through the limbs that were strung together for God knows how long.

Your boyfriend— sadist that he fucking is— thrusts himself into you without warning. Sure, you’ve been stretched by the toy, but your poor slit is so overworked by previous orgasms that even the slightest hint of friction invokes senseless blubbering, your tongue lolling to the side in defeat. Wet, harsh slaps of skin against skin sweep the room, mixed with cries of ‘daddy,’ ‘please,’ and senseless nothings.

“Wanna see you cum.” It’s an order more than a request, grunted into the crook of your neck. His chest flattens against your back. It should feel suffocating, should feel disgusting, considering your body is gleaming with hours worth of perspiration, but you’re enamored with the warmth— engrossed by the way your skin sizzles at his touch. His fingers are secured at your hips, propping your ass in the air and pulling it against him with every piercing thrust.

“N- no, can’t,” cheek still buried into the mattress, you muster whatever strength you have left and grip at his slick bicep behind you. He simply swats your hand away, takes your wrist between his slender fingers, and presses it into the bed. His thumb caresses the marks left by the cloth, savoring the aftermath of the punishment he inflicted.

“You can and you will.” Despite the rasp in his voice, the command still holds authority over your forlorn frame and sends prickles down your spine. You feel yourself, yet again, creeping to the edge of an orgasm. “Cum for me.”

It’s those three, simple words that have you seeing white. Breathless, your brows scrunch together and lips open into a wide ‘o’, but no sound comes out. Your whole body tenses, all senses overwhelmed by this final tidal wave of pleasure, and then finally goes slack.

You’re officially done, body worked to the point of no return. A couple more snaps of his hips and Shouta follows, your name grunted loudly as he spills into you.

For a long time you simply lay together silently, chests heaving with his body still splayed over yours. You know that eventually he’ll roll out of bed and make sure you’re all cleaned up. You always revel in the way he pampers you, taking his time to ensure he doesn’t miss a single inch of skin. If you weren’t so exhausted, he’d probably run a bath as well.

Right now, the heat is finally proving too much for you, so you tap at his hip and he slides himself out of your raw core.

“Ouch,” you wince at the friction, the ability to speak returning to you at last. The whole bottom half of your body is tender. It’ll be a miracle if you’re able to sit comfortably for the next few days.

“Surprised you actually behaved,” he chuckles, flipping you over to hold you. His fingers rub lazy circles into your back and he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You were so good for me.”

“Not like you had me tied up or anything,” you poke a finger at his chest. “And to do paperwork at that.”

“Oh,” a slow, smug smile inches across his face, “I didn’t get any work done.” You might just slap him.

“Shouta,” your voice is even, but your eyes pierce his, narrowed in disbelief, “what do you mean you didn’t get any work done?” His laugh rumbles through his chest.

“Do you think I could really focus, hearing your screeching through the walls like that?”

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#AIZAWA FUCKERS COME THRU #this took me so long i hated it for the longest #but reading over it now i think it's okay??? lmk #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #bnha #bnha smut #shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x you #daddy aizawa #sunny writes #bnha fic #mha smut #mha

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whumpurr · 3 years

Text

Adrien and Sawdust part 6

cw: pet whump, whump recovery, bodily mutilation, self harm, brief and vague mention of past noncon, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, unreliable narrator, brief mention of dissociation

masterlist

Sawdust was searching for his bag the second Master was gone. He hopped out of bed, punctuated with a fit of dizziness as he got to his feet, and crawled around the room looking for his duffel bag. The bright blue bag was nowhere to be found, and Sawdust wasn’t great at seeing in the dark either.

He started to wonder, to second guess himself. Did Master put the bag somewhere in the room and Sawdust just isn’t seeing it? Is he overlooking it? Did he even have a bag at all? Did it come with him to this new house, or was it left with his previous master? No, no, he remembered seeing it next to his kennel with those other people.

If he left the room now, Master would surely hear it and question him, or worse, punish him for disturbing his sleep. As much as Sawdust wanted his ears back, he just had to trust that Master would return them in due time.

Sleeping was difficult without the familiar squeeze of his headband around his head, but with a full stomach he managed to eventually fall asleep even if it took a while.

Sunlight came all too soon for Sawdust. The light peeked through the curtains and he couldn’t physically sleep any more. He was dreading going downstairs and having to face his master, having to eat beside him. He could only imagine what his master was going to do to him. Would he record him? Bring his friends over and show him how pathetic and stupid he looked eating out of a bowl on the floor? Sawdust shook himself out of his thoughts; he was just a dog anyways, he shouldn’t have enough of an ego to be embarrassed.

He was getting himself out of bed, going down onto his hands and knees when he heard a soft knock on the door, followed by Master’s quiet voice.

“Sawdust?” Master said from the other side of the heavy wooden door. “Come on, let’s go get some food.”

Sawdust got to the door and opened it with his paw, stepping out and following Master.

Master gave him a bowl of dog food once he was downstairs. Sawdust half contemplated asking Master about his ears, but really, if Master had taken them away then it was because Sawdust did not deserve them any more.

“Master,” Sawdust murmured, “Is- is there anything your pet can- can do? To assist?”

Master looked thoughtful for a moment then laughed, laughed at Sawdust.

“I think my work stuff is a bit advanced for you,” Master took a bite of his own food, “I want you to focus on… recovery, for now. Okay? That means you rest up and come get me if you want anything, food, water, whatever.”

Sawdust nodded, “Yes, Master,” before he continued eating, the hard kibble crunching satisfyingly between his teeth. He couldn’t work up the courage to ask Master about the ears or his bag, or where they’ve gone.

Lunch and dinner went similarly, with Master coming, getting his pet, and taking him downstairs to eat. Each time Sawdust couldn’t work himself up enough to ask Master about his ears. The lack of his ears made Sawdust feel… Wrong. Like he wasn’t a real dog, like he was a subpar pet. He wasn’t good enough to this new Master who had otherwise been so kind to him. What had he done to deserve this?

Night eventually fell, and Sawdust did his best to do as Master said and get to sleep. He curled up in the nest of blankets and pillows that his Master had made in the corner for him, and let himself begin to drift off. As he was doing so, he couldn’t help but wonder why his Master was withholding his belongings from him. Nevertheless, his eyelids grew heavy, and he eventually fell into a deep sleep.

Adrien was still getting accustomed to feeding someone using a dog bowl, with dog food, on the floor. It was a strange experience, and doing it made him feel dirty, but it was all Sawdust was going to accept so if it was between that or making the pet starve again, he would have to go with the former.

He was still very aware of just how lost he was in all of this. He searched the internet and scoured his social media for something that could give him some kind of life preserver in all of this. Finally, finally, he found something. A chatroom for pet owners. From the looks of it, it was heavily moderated and geared more towards pet liberation activists, and pet rehabbers, and people who actually cared for their pets. He requested to join and was accepted within the hour. He immediately sent a message to the ‘help’ section.

Adrien: >> Hey guys, I’m a new owner and I didn’t do as much research as I should have. >> Long story short, I didn’t keep as close an eye on my pet as I should’ve, and he ended up not eating because I wasn’t giving him dog food. Is that a normal thing? How can I help him?

It wasn’t five minutes before one of the other owners responded,

1Y4N4: >> oof, thats no good dude.. definitely watch him harder and probably just stick to feeding him what he wants for now. u said hes new right? let him stay in his comfort zone for a little bit probably

Adrien: >> Thanks. I’ll do that.

1Y4N4: >> np, im a bit more experienced as an owner but i dont think mine were as conditioned as urs >> at least not in that way

Zo: >> Bro wtf? You’re the source of your pet’s whole life and shit, you really should’ve done more research.

Adrien sat and watched as this ‘Zo’ person continued to rip into Adrien for his irresponsibility, though the ‘1Y4N4’ user at least tried to defend Adrien. It wasn’t long before Zo quieted down and 1Y4N4 was able to speak up again,

1Y4N4: >> lots of actual dogs eat things that arent dog chow >> maybe show your pet some videos of people feeding their dogs other stuff, maybe hell be more open then

Adrien thanked the user, and used the rest of his evening compiling some videos and researching, finding the outer bounds of what dogs could eat in hopes that he could convince Sawdust. It was far from exactly what he wanted, but he felt some semblance of satisfaction that there was at least a way to progress forwards.

Sawdust finally came up with a plan when he was coming out of the bathroom the next morning. It was before Adrien had gotten up. As Sawdust was leaving the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

His hair was all matted, and the fringe at his forehead was beginning to grow to hide his eyes. He looked lacking without his ears. There were deep circles under his eyes. At least the peaks of his cheeks and his lips were starting to regain some color now that he had a steady supply of food which he undoubtedly did not deserve. The scratched scar across his nose bridge and cheek that one of the other dogs gave him was still there. He looked at that and followed it across his face to his second ears.

His dumb second ears, the ones on either side of his head that his last master hated so much. His previous master had always told him that they made him look less like a dog, less like a pet, when a pet was all Sawdust ever wanted to be. Because if he wasn’t a pet, then he was a toy for both Master and the other dogs, and that was one step above the most reprehensible thing he could be. He had been downgraded to ‘toy’ for a short amount of time previously, and he was eternally grateful that he was never dropped even lower, to being nothing but food for the other dogs.

Master threatened that sometimes, chopping him up and feeding him to the other dogs.

Whenever Sawdust looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help imagine it. Being cut up and thrown to other animals to eat. He found some part of himself that felt that- even if he could never do anything else right- he could do that right. He tried to halt that train of thought as quickly as he could, before his mind shunted him off to some dark, foggy place where he couldn’t think or feel until the bad thoughts went away.

But at the root of those thoughts, he found the problem, as well as the solution. He scrambled down to the kitchen as fast as he could go, wanting to work quickly before he could stop himself.

He got to the kitchen sink, and stood up on trembling, unused legs. They could hardly support his weight, he had to lean onto the granite countertop with his elbows as he reluctantly removed the tape from his paws using his teeth. He would need his fingers for this.

Sawdust’s breath was quick in his throat, the edges of his vision grew blurry as he tried to focus on this and only this. He had one task and he was not going to fail it. He wanted his ears back. He wanted his master to be happy with him again. Maybe this way he could earn his master’s attention and... Maybe even his affection, if a pet was allowed to hope.

Sawdust’s paws were shaky and clumsy as they took out the biggest knife out of the wooden blog. It was heavy and cold in his paw. With one paw he held the tip of one of his second ears and pulled it as far away from his head as he could.

The cold edge of the blade rested on his skin, at the valley between his second ear and his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t break down now, he couldn’t stop now. He took a deep, sharp breath and pressed down on the knife as hard as his feeble paws could.

Adrien shot out of bed to the sound of a piercing, howling scream from downstairs.

taglist: @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi@neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine

#whump #whump recovery #pet whump #whumpee #whump scenario #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #whump blog #adrien and sawdust #my writing #whump fic #whump story #pet whumpee

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dilucids · 3 years

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSacrificial duties, Mondstadt ver.

would they sacrifice you or mondstadt?

includes: jean, lisa, kaeya, diluc, amber, albedo and venti.

( i'm too socially inept to request for someone to do this so i took matters into my own hands. )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 JEAN GUNNHILDR ━━ DANDELION KNIGHT 〕

━━ is this even a debate? jean would sacrifice you to save mondstadt.

━━ the question would tear her apart though, she'd spend so much time trying to find another way to save both her city and you that she'd neglect her health ( basic needs, like eating, sleeping )

━━ if it were a person or god who was demanding these terms, she'd try to negotiate anything to save both, even her own life, though if you were willing, she'd hesitantly ( literally beg you to not go through it and reassure she'll find another way ) let you go.

━━ no matter what she chooses, she'll still feel incompetent in the end, as if she isn't good enough to be the acting grandmaster and would probably overwork herself to try and focus on something.

"I'll do it," Jean looks back at you, horror flashing through her eyes though you didn't falter, still staring the entity in her eyes. The wind picks up as if feeling the ameno swordswoman's vivid emotions, she shakes her head, taking small steps towards you as she reaches out for your hand. You cringe when she fell to her knees, "no no no, please, you don't have to do this."

You don't look at her, knowing it would only make things worse for the both of you, you didn't want her to be the last thing you saw nor did you want your face to plague her dreams like a ghost. "I care about Mondstadt too, Jean." You hope she understands that you were also doing this for your city and doesn't blame herself, "it's my duty."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 LISA MINCI ━━ WITCH OF PURPLE ROSE 〕

━━ lisa is a bit more of a wild card.

━━ lisa only oversees the library of mondstadt but it's really unclear the extent of her care for the city itself.

━━ it's impossible for one to say if she would hold a lover priority over a city due to lack of background so that's why she's more of a wild card right now, because i could see her potentially doing either.

━━ though i'm leaning a little towards sacrificing you because of her closeness with jean and her involvement in the knights of farvonius, she knows it would be morally wrong to sacrifice an entire city for one person, lover or not.

"It's okay," you reassure her, smile still gracing your face albeit the heavyweight pressure of death for your city digging it's claws into your shoulders. "I'm sorry," she apologises for the nth time and you can do no more than squeeze her hand in affirmation, knowing a hug would be too much for the both of you right now.

You feel her fingers slip through yours and your hand is embraced by the winds of Mondstadt, a sudden change from the electricity that plagued her fingertips and passed onto yours. You take a shaky breath and leave her behind you, her eyes watching your back along the way until you were nothing more than a dot in the horizon━━ ready to become a star in the sky.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 KAEYA ALBERICH ━━ FROSTWIND SWORDSMAN 〕

━━ another wildcard!

━━ unlike lisa, however, i'm leaning towards sacrificing monstadt.

━━ even with all his background knowledge, kaeya is still a character that holds a lot of secrets and it's canon that he's a mysterious figure, cavalry captain or not.

━━ don't get your hopes up though, because he still may sacrifice you ( after a talk with jean or diluc/j )

━━ kaeya lets anything happen as long as it falls into place of how he has expected to end, he really doesn't know what to do when an unknown entity shows up and demands the price of you for his city or vice versa.

━━ really hard to get a grasp on him.

━━ i could see him spending one last day with you after deciding he was going to give you up ( you obviously knew of this ) but after 24 hours with you, away from mondstadt, he might realise that, even if he regrets it for the rest of his life, he'll never be able to give you up.

━━ alternatively, if he didn't open up to you about this or went to jean or diluc, they would convince him to "do what's right" and give you up.

"No. I'm not doing it," his tone differed from the norm━━ he was never like this, not even on official knights' business. His eyes unnervingly determined, tone you were unable to refute, and words that scared you. "Kaeya, you have to," your fingers place themselves over his, which were barely touching your cheeks.

"I'm not doing it," he reaffirms, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself out of all people. "I'm━━ I'm not losing you to some city. I can rebuild a city, we can find a city elsewhere," he states, eyebrows furrowed and not taking a single breath between his words. You pry his fingers away from your cheek, holding them over your lap. "Kaeya, this isn't just 'some city', it's the city you love. The city we love." You coax, finally getting him to look into your eyes. "You're the person I love." He says, exasperated.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 DILUC RAGNVINDR ━━ DARKNIGHT HERO 〕

━━ hate to be the bearer of bad news,, and as biased as i am to this man, he would give you up.

━━ wouldn't open up to anyone about it, he'll just drive himself insane pondering both options.

━━ and although it would literally make him insane even thinking about losing someone precious to him ( again ) but his loyalty lies within the city of freedom and the city alone.

━━ even after the dispute with the knights of farvonius ( in the webtoon ), he still remains as the protector of mondstadt and i don't think nor am i able to see it will ever change.

━━ unlike kaeya though, i don't think he'll be able to see you at all once he decides to sacrifice you, he'll just be reminded that he'll never be able to see you again and the terrible decision that he's going to go through with.

━━ will also throw himself into extensive work to get you off his mind afterwards.

"You okay there?" Your eyebrows furrow, leaning against the open door of Diluc's office, seeing his hair tied back into a bun, hands in his face as he gazed deeply at his wooden desk. His head flies up at the sound of your voice, clearing his throat, "when did you get here?"

You shrug, taking steps towards him as he leans back into his chair, "being a hero taking a toll on you?" You tease him, taking a seat on his desk next to him and placing your feet on the chair, leaning forward to cup his cheek. He turns away. You're no stranger to his austere ways so you merely lean back, balancing yourself with your hands against his desk, telling him about your day.

"━━and then he wrapped it up and sent it to me, which was awfully disturbing might I add."

"I'm sorry," your eyebrow quirks when he suddenly cuts into your storytelling. You push yourself forward, reaching out for him and redirecting his gaze ( which hadn't looked in your direction even once ) onto you. "What's wrong my dear?" He only grimaces at the nickname━━ wincing almost and still refused to look at you, gaze cast upon the floor behind his bangs. You couldn't even see his eyes.

"Your guilty act is making me ponder if you've had previous relations with someone else, Master Diluc," you frown a little, using your other hand to force him to peer at you. He leans forward, placing his forehead on yours and whispers, "never."

"I just wanted to apologise for the future," you smile a little and place a kiss on his forehead. "I will always forgive you."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 ALBEDO ━━ THE CHALK PRINCE 〕

━━ albedo's original creator hails from khaeri'ah and venti, archon of mondstadt, was one of the original seven who aided in the destruction of khaeri'ah; is that enough reason to destroy it for a lover? no.

━━ would he still do it? yes, yes, yes.

━━ we all know he considers himself a threat to mondstadt but i don't think he would've ever thought this was why he was a threat, to hold an entire city in his palms and be able to destroy it with a single word was quite a terrifying thought.

━━ it wouldn't stop him though, i really don't think albedo holds any sentimental attachment to mondstadt, he only works and lives there as of right now but he's currently heeding his creater's words and pursuing the truth of the world.

━━ he might grimace over losing a few people that he holds dear and end up rethinking his decision but in the end, will choose you.

━━ another reason i think he would destroy mondstadt is that, once albedo discovers something or the feeling of enlightenment that comes with studying something new disperses, he is quick to stop studying that and abandon it due to the "bittersweet truth" hitting him so if he grew tired of mondstadt,,,,,, rip to jean 🙏

Your eyes flicker from the sight of his back to the unknown entity, hovering just above the floor, her eyes uninterested in you as she gazed into Albedo's eyes, maybe trying to read his expressionless face. "Have you made a choice, Kreideprinz?"

Nothing is said. Nothing from Albedo nor you, you didn't seem to have a part in this private conversation but you also seemed to be an integral part of it due to the way Albedo kept looking back at you, squeezing your hand as if to remind himself that you existed. "I'm choosing them."

She peers at you now, her eyes boring into yours as she scans you for something, "are you sure about this decision?"

For some odd reason, you're not offended by her words, maybe because she didn't sound like she meant it in a rude way ( it also seemed out of her standoffish character ) but was genuine in her curiosity if Albedo would go back on his words. He squeezes your hand again, rubbing circles on the back of your hand━━ something he did to calm you but it seemed that this action was to ground him instead.

"Yes, I am."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 AMBER ━━ OUTRIDER 〕

━━ YOU.

━━ in the most heart breaking – heart warming way ever, she'd give you up.

━━ notice how more than half of these mondstadt fuckers would give you up? yeah 🙄

━━ on a serious note, a lot of them have devoted themselves fully to protecting the city and i don't see any one of them being able to give the command to destory the city, even if their s/o was being held with a knife to their throat right infront of them and amber is the very same.

━━ even though we don't know to much about her, she is seen as a perfect example of justice by kaeya, and is extremely devoted to her work, she's just below diluc and jean in the most to least likely to sacrifice you in my opinion. it's simply overlooked due to her lack of presence in the game.

━━ i think her compassionate and kind side will make it harder for her to come to a decision because she doesn't want to have to lose one thing to keep another but in the end, she will give you up.

Amber seemed extremely distressed, immediately running into Jean's office once arriving back at the Knight's base after finishing her usual trek of Mondstadt's surroundings. You had attempted to call out her as she ran through the halls but she didn't even look your way, which was peculiar to you but you could only guess something dangerous must've happened due to her eagerness of reaching Jean's office, slamming the door wide open.

You quirk an eyebrow and Kaeya, stood beside you, whistled briskly, hands on his hip. "Someone's in a hurry," you roll your eyes at his comment and simply grab his arm, dragging him over to Jean's office, "just shut up and come."

The minute you knock and open the door however, the room is quiet. Jean sat on her chair, elbows placed on the table and concern burrowed deeply within her furrowed eyebrows and Amber, who was shaking her leg up and down in anxiety, fiddling with her nails.

Kaeya seems a little amused by the situation, unlike you, who was extremely concerned by the little actions of anxieties Amber was exhibiting, striding over to her side in an instant. Placing your hand on her shoulder, she leans into you almost instantly and begins quietly sniffling into your shirt.

You mouth to Jean that you're taking her out and Jean nods, thanking you with a small smile on her face. You guide Amber into a quiet room in the headquarters, letting her silently cry as you attempt to soothe her. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head, only repeating a small, "I'm sorry."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 VENTI ━━ WINDBORNE BARD 〕

━━ venti is characterised as a free spirit, like the freedom that the city of mondstadt represents, he carries that within him but at the end of the day, he is still mondstadt's archon.

━━ so we all saw this coming but you 👫

━━ i don't really think there's a lot to explain, he's their archon and even if he loses everyone he's ever loved, his priority is mondstadt.

━━ he'll probably take you on that ride on dvalin he's been promising you for the past year with no explanation.

━━ you'll ask him why he's dragged you from work and he'll just say he's feeling nice or that the winds are good for a ride right now.

━━ you'll stare at him with that, 'don't–you–control–the–winds?' look and he'll wink at you, telling you to stop staring at him or he'll blush.

━━ will completely come undone when he seed you happily laughing on dvalin's back, arms spread open as your laugh echoes into the wind.

Your excited whooping is all he hears, previous nervousness abandoned with his hands placed on your waist as Dvalin pierced up above the clouds; the ground nothing more than a fleeting dream to you both. It's such a shame that young, immature Dendro Archon got his hands on you first, gifting you his gift of Earth's nature━━ if not for the God of Wisdom, Venti would've gifted you heaven's winds if he knew how simply being in the sky made you so ecstatic.

The adrenaline finally dies down when Dvalin arrives just above the clouds, wings creating new and dispersing the old. You lean into Venti who takes this as an invitation to push himself further into your side and begin playing with your fingers, allowing you time to simply relish in the situation. "You're awfully quiet today," you muse, staring at Venti with a small smile.

He hums, "it's quiet up here," in nothing less of a whisper. You nod along with his words, fighting the urge to jump into the clouds, knowing you'll pass right through them. Venti sinks into you further somehow, like you were a passing cloud; his shoulder pressed into the crack of your arm and torso, head leaning on your shoulder. "You'll be okay Venti," and you embrace him.

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin oneshot #genshin lisa #genshin jean #genshin kaeya #genshin amber #genshin albedo #genshin diluc #genshin venti #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬4

Warnings: nonconsensual touching, fingering, deceptive behaviour, allusions to abuse.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Note: I haven’t updated in a minute but I got the yen to come back to Arvin so here we go! Also working away at my gif requests which are super fun :)

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The fight echoed in your head as Arvin buttoned up the front of your dress, although a few were missing. He helped you to your feet and you leaned on him heavily, barely able to see ahead of you, let alone support yourself on your shaky legs. You climbed the stairs as your mind passed through a tunnel of shock. You didn’t realise you’d even left the living room until you were lowered onto the bed.

Arvin sat beside you, his hand on your shoulder as he spoke softly. You didn’t understand his words as you turned your face away and tears trickled down your tender cheek. You weren’t sad that Roy was gone, you were embarrassed that another had seen what you let him do to you, and terrified of the nice man with the pistol.

Was he really so nice? You barely knew him at all and he’d had a gun under your roof. Sure, Roy had a rifle but that was for hunting. You couldn’t say or even try to imagine why Arvin had a handgun.

The lamp clicked off and the end of the chain clinked against the long stem. You laid in the dark, not daring to move, and after hours of dazed disbelief, you dozed off, your back wracked with pain from the tension and awkward position.

You woke with a stiff neck, a swollen face, and a weight in your chest. You sat up slowly and held your forehead as the bed shifted. Arvin dumped an armful of Roy's old flannels into the open suitcase at the foot of the mattress. You blinked and rubbed your eye as you leaned on one arm. You yawned and stretched your shoulders.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"I'll see him today," he said as he pulled open the chest of drawers and grabbed the stained and torn denim from within, "make sure he stays away for good."

"What? Arvin," you bent your legs and crossed your arms over your knees, "he's my husband."

"He didn't act like one," he continued to toss Roy's clothes haphazardly into the bag, "he beat you!" He stopped and put his hands on his hips, "he never talked to you nice and…" he stopped and shook his head and closed the suitcase. He zipped it up with a sigh, "I heard him that first night. I figured, you weren't my wife, I could live with it. Well, I can't. You deserve better than him."

"It's not that easy. I can't just toss him out--"

"No, I did," Arvin insisted, "and I'll keep him out."

"You shouldn’t have done that. Last night. He'll be mad."

"So?" Arvin hauled the bag off the bed and dragged it to the door. The bottom of his shirt moved and revealed the butt of the gun sticking out of the top of his jeans.

"Are you gonna make sure with that?" You asked as you turned your legs over the side of the bed, "you can't just shoot him, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course, but he doesn't know I won't," Arvin looked back at you, "I'm gonna make breakfast then head out… how's your head?"

"Feels like there's a rock in my temple," you groaned and stood, "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"No one but you, huh?" He challenged, "Look, I won't hurt him, I promise, but I also won't let him hurt you."

You neared him meekly as you hugged yourself, "why?"

"Because you do," he said, "because if you won't save yourself, I will. I have to," he looked down at his scuffed shoes, "I seen too many girls, too many women, hurt in my life. I ain't that old, you know? But I can't stand no more."

You watched him go and listened to him descend the old stairs. You frowned and flinched as you glanced around and caught a glimpse of yourself in the antique oval mirror your mother had left behind all those years ago. You looked as bad as you felt, worse; you couldn't help but be comforted by Arvin's concern, in fact, it felt good to have someone who cared about you.

🚬

It was hard to concentrate that day. Even a chore as simple as the dishes or sweeping the floors took twice as long as usual as your mind strayed to the night before and fears of what was to come.

You tried to convince Arvin to leave the bag there but he wasn’t folding, not like you. You admired him for that, but at the same time it made you squirm. Something had changed. He was no longer the sweet young man staying in your attic, he became the indomitable and angry man waving the gun around as he spoke about killing others without so much as flinching.

You remembered what he said. He’d killed a man before, or was it men? It wasn’t like you had anyone who could or would help you. You doubted Roy would come back even if you wanted him to, and on that front, you just couldn’t be sure. He was your husband and it was improper to put him out but let another man sleep under your roof.

The only woman in town who’d dared divorce her husband was Carmen Dolan and there was no where in town she went where people didn’t whisper about her; at the store, in church, and even on the sidewalks. It didn’t matter that her husband was sneaking around or that he was little better than Roy in his manners. It was a small place and people had too much time to talk.

Well, how many friends did you have there? Noreen couldn’t be called as much and all the girls you knew in school were married and too busy to keep up those old teenage ties. You could bide them at the sewing circles, they never were very nice, and you went to church out of obligation not out of a need for that ridiculous shallow socializing of housewives. Besides, you’d failed at all that, hadn’t you?

Then you began to worry. What if Roy flipped and hurt Arvin? Or Arvin hurt him? The suitcase would hardly be taken with a thanks. If Roy was ashamed enough he might just grumble and ignore the other man for the rest of the day, but if he wasn’t, he might just pick up where they left off last night.

You were hanging out the washing when a faded old Chevrolet drove up the dusty drive. You squinted past the stiff jeans as it steered closer and the engine stopped. Arvin climbed out and jingled the keys as he went around the other side. He took out a paper bag and crossed the yard.

“How was your day?” he asked with a smile.

You stared, dumbfounded. How could he act so… normal?

“Wh--what happened with…” your voice trailed out and you unclipped a pair of his jeans.

“Roy? Oh, he took his things and tucked tail after lunch,” he scoffed, “he didn’t look too good. Probably didn’t feel good neither.”

You nodded and dropped the jeans into the basket and tucked the pegs into your pocket. He crinkled the paper bag and stopped you from reaching to the next pair.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You shook your head and stepped back so that his hand fell from your arm.

“I know last night was-- hard. I only did what I had to, not anything I wanted to,” his brows drew together, “here.”

He held out the paper bag and you eyed it warily. You chewed your lip and he stepped closer.

“Please, it’s, uh, I want you to have it,” he said, “you deserve it and maybe it is an apology. I went a little far but… I don’t regret it. Roy got what was coming.”

You took the bag and he tucked his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t have to get me nothing,” you said.

“Like I said, I wanted to. You do all the hard work here,” he replied, “and I’ll finish this up.”

He reached up and took down the next pair of pants and put them in the basket with the rest. He moved down the line as you watched him, the bag under your arm. You didn’t move, just watched. You looked over at the Chevrolet and frowned.

“Where’d you get the car?” you asked.

“Used,” he said as he folded a shirt in half and dropped it into the basket, “they had it down at the shop for a while now and I told the boss to take out installments from my next few checks. He didn’t mind much, he ain’t been able to get rid of it. Some work to be done but--” He lifted the basket and neared you, “you didn’t look yet?”

“Inside,” you said, “I didn’t wanna just leave you out here with all that.”

You nodded to the laundry and he pointed you toward the house. He followed you up onto the porch and through the screen door. He stopped to slip off his shoes and continued on after you into the living room. You put the bag down on the end table and uncurled the top.

You pulled out the large square and held up the record. The man who stared back at you had sparkling blue eyes and black hair. Elvis Presley smiled as if it was all a funny joke.

“There’s more,” he said.

You set down the record against the arm of the couch and reached into the brown bag again. You pulled out the fabric and a finely tailored pink dress in the latest style unfolded before you. You stared as he neared and he took the bag from the table. He revealed the last piece from the bag and set them down on the carpet, a pair of brand new heels.

“Why did you do all this?” you shoved the dress at him, “I can’t accept it.”

“You can,” he stepped back, “and just so you know, I’ll be paying my rent to you direct now.”

He sidled past you and took the album from the couch. He went to the record player and slid the vinyl from the sleeve. He carefully placed it on the player and lined up the pin. He turned back to you and crossed the room. He pulled the dress from your hands and let it slump over the couch cushion.

“Do you know the shimmy? I could show you? It’s the new thing,” he said as he took your hand, “you just move your hips, bend your legs a little, keep your arms out like this.” He moved slowly at first as he drew you into the middle of the room, “just with me, to the rhythm.”

“I can’t,” you protested, “really, I’m not a dancer.”

“Me neither, but it’s fun,” he tugged on your hand, “come on.”

He sang out of tune as he kept his hips moving. You watched him and tried to copy him, hoping to placate him long enough that you could escape to the kitchen. The dress, the album, the dancing, it all felt so wrong.

As the song ended, he brought you close and wrapped you up and slowed down. He swayed you with him as the record kept spinning. His eyes clung to yours.

“He didn’t know what he had,” he said.

“Arvin, I gotta start supper,” you whispered as you pushed on him, “please.”

“I got you the new dress so we could go to the drive-in,” he kept you against him, “Friday night. You like Audrey Hepburn?”

“I… haven’t seen much of her,” you confessed, “Arvin, really, the ham--”

“He’s not coming back,” he released you reluctantly, “I told you. I told him.”

“He’s still my husband,” you crossed your arms and looked down.

“Is he? He never treated you like his wife.”

“It’s the law--”

“Divorce him. You’ll keep the house, it’s yours. Your daddy left it to you.”

“And do what? I can’t afford it on my own--”

“You got me.”

“You won’t stay here forever,” you uttered.

He didn’t say anything and narrowed his eyes. He shrugged and turned away. “You have options and Roy is the wrong one,” he said, “you can’t hate yourself that much.”

You barely heard him and didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t and left him to Elvis’ soft tones as you went to pull out the honey ham. You still had some of your sweet mustard left in that jar from last year or maybe the apple sauce. It was easier to focus on the food and not the madness of men.

🚬

The nights and days drifted by like sand in a glass. Whenever Arvin was there, even when he was in the attic and you were below, you were painfully aware that it was only the two of you in that big house. You weren’t afraid for yourself really, he hadn’t done anything to you. You should hate Roy for how he’d been to you all those years but you didn’t want to be the reason he got hurt.

But as the time went by, it was also harder to tell Arvin no. You never thought anyone could be overly helpful, especially after Roy’s indifference, but you were overwhelmed by his presence. He was always lurking around when you least expected, watching you, waiting. He always offered to finish the chore or kept you from doing it entirely. You should be thankful but it made you feel more guilty than anything.

When Friday came, you carried on your usual routine. You were mopping when the Chevrolet pulled up. He’d spent the night before with his head under the hood. He said it wasn’t too bad for the price and the repairs were minimal and none so urgent.

The car door closed then his steps walked up onto the porch. As he entered the house, you hit the mop against the wall and kept your head down, swiping back and forth against the wood. He didn’t dare to step past the threshold and mess your clean floors.

“You should finish up and get ready,” he said.

You looked up at him and feigned ignorance. You hoped all day he would forget about the movie. You didn’t want to wear the dress, it made your wedding ring chafe just to think of it. You focused again on the mop and kept back stepping away from him.

“Maybe not tonight, Arvin,” you said, “I’m tired.”

“You don’t have to work yourself sick,” he leaned against the doorframe, “really. You can always just take a day and… relax.”

You put the mop in the bucket and rested it against the wall. You took a deep breath but didn’t look at him.

“I don’t think we should go at all.”

He sighed and rubbed his cheek, “Really? Roy hasn’t even tried to come back. Hasn’t even tried to apologise. In all these years, did he ever once say sorry to you for anything?”

“Maybe not but I married him. I made that decision and I have to see it through.”

“Not like that,” he tutted, “besides, it’s just a movie…”

“Just a movie,” you repeated and walked over the drying floor, “alright then.”

He watched you and the thoughts wrinkled on his forehead. He let you go as you grabbed the railing and ascended the stairs. You felt his eyes on you, even after you turned down the hall, as if he could see you through the walls.

“We got time,” he called up, “no rush. It’s not even close to dark but I don’t want you to worry about… all this.”

You didn’t reply and closed the bedroom door. You sat on the end of your bed and clasped your hands. You still felt terribly trapped. You didn’t think so much of what Roy would say, he always said the worst. You thought about your father and how disappointed he would be. You knew he wouldn’t have let Roy treat you so bad if he was still alive, but he would still be sad if he knew how it all worked out.

🚬

You hadn’t been to the drive-in since you were going steady with Roy. It was a singular occasion and an unpleasant one. He got drunk and couldn’t drive home so you had to get behind the wheel and pray you didn’t crash. It wasn’t that you couldn’t drive, you just hated it. Thinking of it then, you should have expected all that came after.

Arvin pulled in as the sky dimmed slowly and he left you to go to concession and grab popcorn. When he returned, he handed you a box of chocolates as he cradled the large paper bag of kernels. You thanked him and opened the box, distracting yourself with the chewy caramels covered in milk chocolate. You offered him some as you looked around and waited for the screen to flash into motion.

There were a few families among the patrons but mostly teenagers, couples and groups, rowdy as they impatiently hollered for the film to roll. You hadn’t heard of this one, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Arvin said he read about it in the paper and it was supposed to be a flick meant for ladies. He said he didn’t mind as he liked the actors.

When at last it was dark enough, the movie began and you set the box down on the seat and munched on a handful of popcorn out of courtesy. The credits began and you were quickly swept up into the life of Holly Golightly. You were almost agog to think that a woman could live like her. City life seemed so different, so free, so scary. And she didn’t let all those men rule her.

You felt Arvin slide closer to you and his arm snaked around your shoulders. You tensed as you focused on Hepburn’s waifish voice and offkey plucking of the ukulele. You tried to ignore him as you felt his warm breath and the kiss on your temple made you wince. Your eyes flicked over to the car on the other side of you, then the next. The audience was rapt.

His hand grazed along your skirt and he kissed your cheek. Your heart raced wildly. You wanted to stop him but didn’t know how. And he was so sweet and he did so much for you. He’d brought you all the way here and kept Roy from cracking your head open. Could you really say no?

“I know I said it already,” his hand lingered on the pink fabric, “but this looks wonderful on you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as you kept your wide eyes on the screen.

“Really, you’re beautiful, honey,” he purred as he nuzzled your throat, “living so close… it’s hard…”

He pushed his hand under your skirt and up between your thighs. He wiggled until you parted your legs and grabbed your chin with his other. He turned you to face him and crushed his lips against yours. He leaned on you until you were flat against the seat and he brought your legs up onto the leather as he held himself over you.

He kissed you even deeper as his fingers tickled over the front of your panties and crawled up to the top. He slipped his hand down the front of your underwear and you whimpered. When he touched you, you were afraid but confused. It felt good, better than anything you’d ever done with Roy.

You gulped and turned your head as you gasped. You grabbed his shoulder and shuddered. His fingers delved between your folds and swirled. You murmured and squeezed his arm.

“Please, I’m-- I’m still married, we can’t--”

He nibbled at your neck and blindly reached up to grab your hand. He gripped the ring on your finger and forced it off and flicked it away. It rolled under the seat as he rasped against your throat.

“He’s gone,” his fingers danced around your clit eagerly, “don’t you understand? I’ll make sure he doesn’t come back, honey.”

“Arvin, I--” you squeaked as the waves swelled and flowed down your legs and you were caught in the tide, “please…”

You closed your eyes, your mind stormed with how wrong it was but your body pulsed with delight. He pushed his fingers further back and the heel of his hand pressed to your bud. He curled his fingers inside of your and you moaned as he rested the weight of his pelvis against his hand. He rocked his touch in time with his hips, as if he was fucking you, and kissed you on the mouth again, swallowing up your desperate cries.

Your legs wrapped around his as you came and you tilted your pelvis as you rode the high. He lifted his head to watch you orgasm and your lashes fluttered as you succumbed to the ecstasy. You squirmed as he slowed his fingers and stilled his hand entirely. You were out of breath as he stopped at last but kept his hand nestled between your legs.

You covered your face with your shaky hand and exhaled deeply. He pulled your hand down and rubbed the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’ll buy you a new ring,” he purred, “a nicer one.”

#Arvin Russell #dark arvin russell #dark!arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #the devil all the time #Of something beautiful but annihilating #series #fic #dark!fic #dark fic

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Pendent.

Written for a very lovely, very patient anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Bokuto/Reader (Haikyuu!!).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: F. Reader, Toxic Relationships, Co-Dependency, Mention of Injury, Threats of Violence, Victim-Blaming.

[Part Two]

You were better, when you were on your own.

It might’ve been because you were so used to being alone. You’d never been one for social circles, the idea of spending time with people you barely liked for any longer than you deemed acceptable, and with how often your parents moved, how many schools you’d been through, your relationships were bound to be short-lived, if they ever formed at all. You didn’t hate it. You should’ve, you had every reason to, but you didn’t. You were good with impermanence, superficial flare that would never have time to die out. You were good with what you were used to. You were better, when you got to work within the barriers you’d already grown fond of.

That might’ve been why Bokuto felt like such a dead weight. You’d had boyfriends before, both short-term flings and partners persistent enough to try to make it long-distance, but you couldn’t say any of them had care quite as strongly as Bokuto had, none of them had taken as much effort to keep happy as Bokuto had. He didn’t just want your affection. He needed your time, too, your loyalty, your attention, all the things you weren’t sure you wanted to give him, just yet. If you’d been a better person, you might’ve tried to give him what he wanted, attempted to think of him as a companion rather than an unending list of repetitive tasks, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to be. You just didn’t work well with Bokuto. That was the problem, really – the two of you just did belong together.

Well, that and he was fucking crazy, obviously, but you were beginning to think you might’ve been the only one who noticed.

Konoha certainly didn’t, at least. If he had, he wouldn’t be so aggressive, his arms crossed as he kept you trapped in an isolated corner of the courtyard, the school day over and most students long-since gone. He was standing too close, his chest nearly touching yours, but the rest of the team wasn’t any better, mingling around you in a loose half-circle. They didn’t want to be as straight-forward as Konoha, clearly. They didn’t want to live with the guilt. When they walked away from this, and they would walk away from this, they wanted to be able to minimize their role, mark it down as an act of necessity. They didn’t want to have to remember you, and you could only hope they wouldn’t give you a reason to remember them.

But, if this was going to be anything like the first time they confronted you, you doubted you’d get that lucky.

In his defense, Konoha was blunt. If he planned on wasting your time, he didn’t seem to want to waste any more of it than he absolutely had to. “We had a deal.”

It was your turn to cross your arms, now, to scowl. You weren’t as imposing as they were, not on your own, but you’d like to think you could’ve stood your ground. “It wasn’t a deal,” You started, slowly, keeping your tone calm. This wouldn’t be any easier if they thought you were as irrational as their captain. “You asked me for a something, and I gave it to you. I did you a favor. I don’t owe you anything, and I certainly don’t have to stand around being yelled at by the person I tried to help.”

Konoha opened his mouth again, his eyes already narrowed and his lips pulled into a sharp scowl, but another boy stepped forward before he could get anything out, his expression slightly more passive, albeit still concerned. It wasn’t an improvement. If anything, the genuine worry written across his face only made him easier to villainize. He was worried about Bokuto, not you. This was about Bokuto. Your feelings hardly warranted a passing thought.

“What Akinori’s trying to say,” Komi started, his name resurfacing from the dozens of hours you’d spent watching their drills, attending their practice matches, melting into Bokuto’s side after he guilted you into eating lunch with his team, rather than the other girls you were still trying to impress. If you’d been any more emotional, you could’ve hated him for it, loathed him by association. It was almost a shame that you weren’t. “Is that we just think you were a little hasty. I mean, I know we put you up to it, but…” He trailed off, purposefully, clearly hoping you’d be nice enough to cut him off. Again, it was a shame that you weren’t, and Komi went on with a sigh. “We just think the two of you made a good pair. There’s no reason to go and ruin that just because he found out.”

Your head felt fuzzy. You wanted to sit down. It was a difficult sort of discomfort, disorienting and instantaneous, but you didn’t let yourself linger on it. If you did that, you’d have to explain yourself, make your argument more sympathetic than logical. You’d have to tell them about the arguments, the way he’d kissed you, the bruises on your arm that still hadn’t faded despite your dutiful avoidance. You’d have to admit there were bruises at all, and…

That wasn’t going to happen. You already knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“Cut the shit.” It took you a moment to notice Konoha was talking, turned towards his teammates and away from you. A few months ago, you might’ve taken it as an insult, but that might’ve been Bokuto’s one silver lining – you got used to being pushed into the background, when he was around. Hell, even when he wasn’t, sometimes. “He won’t play. He hasn’t come to school in a week. He can barely get out of bed. The poor guy’s a fucking wreck.” There was a pause, something similar to a groan. He didn’t have to tell you it was your fault, not when you could practically hear him thinking it, whether or not his lips moved. “It’s sad. He’s fucking miserable. If you saw it, you’d know what I mean.”

“That’s not my problem.” It wasn’t. Bokuto could’ve hurt you. For a moment, he’d looked like he wanted to hurt you. That wasn’t something you’d forgive with a few tears and a little sulking. “I’m not responsible for him. I don’t want to be responsible for him, and I never have. If you need a babysitter, you’re going to have to look somewhere else.”

“It’ll only be for a few more months.” Like always, Washio was calm, composed, cutting in before Konoha could provide a decent rebuttal. “Just until graduation. He’ll probably be over it, by then, and you won’t have to worry about any of us.”

Until the next moody third-year decides he wants a pick-me-up, too.

“I’m not interested.” You let yourself scoff, look of to the side, pretend you had better places to be. You did have better places to be. Anywhere would be better than this, as long as it meant you didn’t have to think about him. As long as it meant you didn’t have to think about Bokuto ever again, you’d do just about anything. “You saw the way he acted, I couldn’t look at someone else without having to worry about whether or not he’d lose his shit. I wasn’t happy. Fuck, I was a second away from losing my shit. You can’t ask me to go back to that just so you can win at... what? Volleyball?.” You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stop. You didn’t want to talk about this. If you were going to spill your guts to anyone, it wasn’t going to be a dozen teenage boys who thought the only way to make their dear captain happy was to torture you, intentionally or otherwise. “If it’s only a few months, then the rest of you can wait it out. This isn’t my burden. It’s not my problem, and I don’t care enough to pretend it is.”

You didn’t want to hear his response. You didn’t want a part of this fight. You tried to walk away, to push past him, but Konoha only stiffened, catching you by the arm before you could take a full step. You flinched, going rigid as soon as you felt his fist wrap around your wrist, but if he noticed the way you drew back, if he heard the soft, panicked noise that slipped through your parted lips, he didn’t bother apologizing. If anything, into only seemed to inflate his ego further, to make him even more self-righteous. Like he was the caring friend, and you were the stone-cold bitch who was finally starting to see the weight of the situation. Like he was the one in the right. You couldn’t blame him, on that front. No one would be willing to go this far unless they really believed their own bullshit.

“I don’t think you understand.” He was speaking slowly, now. If he hadn’t made it obvious he was willing to hit back, you might’ve been tempted to smack him. “We’re not asking.”

Oh. Right. That changed things.

It was all you could do not to let your voice shake, as you forced yourself to spit something out. “And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

To his credit, Konoha didn’t try to make any idle threats. No, not right now, not when he was so determined to make himself the good guy. Not when it was already clear he’d convinced himself he’d do whatever he had to, as long as it was for Bokuto’s sake. “Bokuto needs this,” He said, instead, like it was all the explanation you could need. “Go back to him on your own. It’ll be easier, if you do.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tore your eyes away from Konoha, scanning over the other athletes instead. You weren’t sure to look for, support or regret or just enough guilt to draw one or the other out, but you barely had a chance to look before your attention was drawn to a familiar face – Akaashi, standing at the edge of the group, eyes sheepishly focused on the ground. He’d been the first one you talked to, when you first transferred halfway through the year, the first person to offer to walk you home and to invite you to a game and to smile sympathetically, whenever you asked how long your ‘arrangement’ was supposed to last. You didn’t make friends, but if you did, you would’ve counted Akaashi as one. You tried not to get attached to people, but if you were any weaker, you’d be attached to Akaashi. He was a nice guy, despite the company he kept. You trusted him. Or, you would’ve liked to, at least. You could’ve, if you’d trusted yourself to.

You must’ve been staring for a second too long. By the time you thought to say something, he was already glancing up, consciously looking past you. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought he was embarrassed. Something near guilt, but not quite there. Empathy pulled in two different directions, but he’d already chosen one side over the other. “I think it would be… better, if you apologized to Bokuto.” He was talking to you. That, you could be thankful for. At least he was talking to you, rather than whatever enemy the rest of his team must’ve morphed you into before deciding to go through with their little confrontation. “He loves you. You should’ve heard the way he sounded, after he found out.” He faltered, for a moment, but the display of vulnerability was short-lived. “If nothing else, he really does love you.”

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. It shouldn’t have, you were sure of that.

That didn’t mean you could stop it from hurting, though.

You didn’t believe them. You weren’t convinced. You wanted to keep going, to try to talk them down, to do anything but roll over and throw yourself into the arms of their psychopathic captain, but suddenly, your throat felt dry, and it was all you could do to stay on your feet. You felt small, smaller than you had a minute ago. You felt vulnerable, even if you knew there was nothing they could do here, on school-grounds, where any passing teacher or student could see. You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want to do this, but as you forced yourself to notice Akaashi’s careful aversion, how tightly Konoha was holding you…

You realized you might not have a choice, either way.

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