#so anyway I remembered that and had to do something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bywons · 19 hours

Text

✧ YOU BELONG WITH ME ENHYPEN—

╰—— 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

( ✶🪽 𝓢. ) 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 x 𝖿! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 g. 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 1796 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 !𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 ✦ ◞ 𝒞ATALOGUE?!

๑´ ³`) ﾉ pls leave feedbacks if u liked it ♡ REBLOG !!

LEE HEESEUNG tightens the grip around your waist and pulls you in until you bump by his side. you could easily figure out the fake smile plastered on his face, holding you tight by his side in front of his friends.

“so, is he more handsome than me?”, he whispers as soon as his friends are gone. it took you a couple of minutes to realise why he had a death grip on you, “you seem to like him a lot.” a single conversation with him has heeseung going tomato red now.

“what do you think?”, you scoff, looking him dead in the eye.

“he's got the old fashioned looks, a proper gentleman with a perfect sense of timing. your kinda guy,” his eyes twitched while defining the guy, oh how bad he wanted to punch him.

“you know, you sound like one of my friends with terrible taste trying to set me up on a blind date”, you laugh, wrapping your hand around his suited biceps. “yep,” heeseung scoffs, “he will go blind soon.”

“what do you think of me—?”

“i love you a lot”, you roll your eyes and chuckle, now walking side by side with heeseung, his grip still present on you, “nobody can replace my bambi boy.”

“your bambi boy huh?”, heeseung realises he can never be angry with his pretty girl when he melts the second he hears his nickname by you, pressing a small kiss on your cheeks and pulling you in.

“you want it to be somebody else?”, you smirk.

“hey!”

PARK JONGSEONG keeps a steady frown on his face, watching you finish up your pastry. he's not the type to sulk over things, if there's any problem the first thing he does is talk it out with you, and maybe have a small ice cream date later. but it's been 4 days now, that stupid frown won't leave his face, accompanied with his cold replies, even on this café date!

“is something bothering you these days?”, the fork softly clings against the plate, you try to hold in a giggle, “babe you know can tell me anything,” his sulky face is kinda cute.

“nope, i'm all good,” jay forces a smile. red flag, he's not calling you ‘love’.

“jay, you haven't even touched your pudding,” you sigh.

jay puts on a good serious thinking face, slowly withdrawing his hands from the table and releasing a deep sigh. this thing looks really serious. oh poor jay, what's wrong?

“well”, jay clears his throat before he goes off, “i really didn't think you were like this y/n i didn't expect this from you, if i did something wrong you could've just said that you know how much i love you i would do everything!”

“jay, what are you—”

“and the fuck kinda name's benjamin anyways? like hell we're not in the 19th century, y/n you could do better.”

oh. so that's what it's about. he thinks you're cheating on him, because you left your shared apartment for some benjamin guy for 3 days straight. you don't blame him though, you owe him an explanation.

“babe,” you sigh, “it's not what you think, remember benjamin? my cousin sister's child? i visit her to babysit him.”

“.....the one who called me uncle?”, jay's expression softens, instead he's shocked now.

“yeah!”, you giggle, putting your hand over his for comfort, shooting him a sorry look. “i hate that kid”, jay scoffs, you sigh.

SIM JAEYUN lets out a groan while he stares at the anime plushie in your arms. you're basically burying your face in it snuggling it, and if that wasn't enough the plushie is a man!

no way jake has to compete with a fictional man now.

“why do you need that ugly plushie when im here…”, jake whines, plopping down right beside you and scooting even closer, “am i not good enough?”

“did you just call toji fushiguro ugly?”, a frown casts upon your face as you whip your head around to shoot a glare at your boyfriend. poor him, he's too confused and jealous for this, he really wants to replace the plushie in your arms. “you're out of your mind jake.”

“i am in fact very willing to be out of my mind and be crazy for you,” jake rolls his eyes, shifting closer to you until there's only a pillow between you and him, which he soon throws away. the fresh smell of laundry and cologne floats from his sweatshirt and hits your nose, it always puts you at ease, and you miss the warm afternoons with him, just snuggling and all over each other, giggling over random past memories. “but i know for sure that plushie will…not do that for you,” jake breaks you from your trance.

“how about you show me that?”, you wink at him. heck, have you been staring at him too long?

“now you're talking”, jake smirks, snatching away the plushie from you as he sets it aside, practically throwing himself on top of you, engulfing you within his strong arms to press a series of kisses on your face, “fuck that ugly plushie.”

PARK SUNGHOON sighs, entering your shared bedroom with a bored face and arms folded. some obvious yet subtle signs he's disappointed by you, but the last disappointing thing you remember you did was eat his tiramisu. what crime have you committed now?

the bored expression quickly turns into a playful one as he clears his throat, tilting his head to one side, “are you resisting the urge to kiss and make up with me right now?”

“no not really”, you answer instantly, typing away on your laptop. but then you realised what he actually just said. with squinted eyes and a smile, you turn your head towards him, “kiss and make up? what exactly happened for us to do that?”

“i think it's about time you stop texting your best friend”, sunghoon sits down beside you giving you the meanest eye roll ever. he scoffs, “i don't get why she hates me and you don't do anything about it. it's like you two backbitch about me.”

“you won't believe it but i actually rant about you all the time to her”, you giggle, sunghoon's cheeks blooms from underneath, “she's sick of my extreme love for you.”

you let out a gasp as sunghoon pulls you in his lap, a coy smirk playing around his lips, “she should be. everyone should know i'm the best boyfriend in the world.”

you hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer, “so was the kiss and make up part just an excuse to kiss me.”

“maybe”, sunghoon chuckles, pulling you in for a chaste kiss, “who knows.”

KIM SUNOO stares straight into your phone screen, while listening to you ramble about your day and how it was. and when it glows to reveal the lock screen, sunoo feels infuriated.

“seriously now y/n, i can't believe this!”, sunoo's sudden shift in position causes your head, which was lying on his shoulders, to hit the bed frame, “like this is too much”, he seethes.

you utter a small ‘ouch’ and rub the hurt spot, a confused “what?” leaving your mouth, “wh-what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean, love”, he rolls his eyes, taking your phone and holding up the lockscreen in front of your face. it's not him. it's a random tv show character that he doesn't even know about. it should be him, it must be him, not a guy he doesn't know. “am i really being robbed of my wallpaper privileges?”, he sighs.

you let out a heavier sigh, putting up one of those smiles sunoo can't help but blush to. “don't you worry, love. maybe i don't want other girls to perceive my man. but if you're begging for it, i'll change it”, you giggle.

sunoo let's a sigh of relief and scoffs, “i'm not begging—”

“on one condition though, my head hurts!”

“aww come here, let me kiss it better”, he smiles, pulling you in again.

YANG JUNGWON literally just spawns right behind you as soon as the guy you're talking to at your friend's birthday party decides to make a move on you.

“go find someone who's not taken dude”, jungwon's eyes are green as he spits his words out, your waist already accompanied by his hand. the poor guy leaves in a hurry, not wanting to mess with the intimidating yang jungwon.

jungwon then turns to you, a shadow over his face, he's obviously upset about this, jealous even. “if you were that bored you could've called me”, jungwon mumbles.

“you were in the restroom, ‘won”, you sigh, placing a hand on his broad chest you pout, “are you…jealous—?”

“of course i'm jealous, i leave my pretty girl alone for one minute and some hipster comes and thinks he can have my girl?”, jungwon pauses for a moment to look into your cresent eyes looking up at him, you're smiling, “no. fucking. way.”

“well, it's good for you that i'm yours and only yours”, you reassure him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek and you have his breathtaking smile back. he grins at you before kissing you back, “now let's go home, i hate this party.”

NISHIMURA RIKI follows you around like a lost puppy after the dance class with his heart in shatters. just an hour ago, your dance teacher assigned partners for the upcoming festival. and it just looks like the universe is definitely not on riki's side cause you two were not paired.

“listen i'm gonna tell mrs. lee to make you my partner and i'm very sure she will listen, trust me! because you can't just—”

“riki, it's okay! it's just a project it'll be over till next week!”, you comfort your boyfriend ‘cause you know mrs. lee is a tough case, she won't crack at all. “besides, we'll be practising in the same hall.”

“exactly! that way that asshole can tease me how he got you”, riki sighs, plopping down on the benches, “i want to dance with you.”

“and i want to dance with you”, you sigh, sitting down beside him, “but you know mrs. lee would never rearrange.”

riki pulls you in a tight hug. he breathes in the vanilla scent of your hoodie before pulling back, gazing into your eyes, “if that dumbass holds you by your waist, i will go insane.”

“i won't let him do that”, you laugh, hitting his chest.

“can't we just drop out of this already? we can be the audience instead”, riki whines.

“i agree, kissing in the audience and booing them would be way better”, you nod your head. niki laughs, “you're the best girlfriend.”

📌:: TAGLIST IS OPEN ! nets. @/k-labels tags! @dollyos @leaderwon @dimplewonie @wonfilms @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaa-sia @ashtxrie @kgneptun @flwrstqr @haechansbbg @river-demon-slayer @in-somnias-world @teddywonss @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @mylstserenade @branchrkive @aishigrey @nctislifue @greyminyoon1 @ro-diaries @rikibun @sleepyxxhead @belowbun @belovedsthings @moond1or @oddracha

457 notes · View notes

i-cant-sing · 2 days

Text

Yandere Batfam x reader who cant feel pain

HEhehehe i just remembered a disease and I just had to write about a reader with it x yandere batfam.

Have you guys heard of CIPA? Its "Congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis" which is basically a genetic condition when a patient cant feel pain to any noxious stimulus and can also not sweat, and yall are probably like "but SNoWWW, that doesnt like a diSEase. More like a superpower!!!" um no. You need to be able to feel pain or else you wont know what part of your body has been injured and get help before its too late. You could have thumbtack plunged in your foot and u wouldnt know unless it got infected and u probably saw ur foot changing color.

And now yall are like "but SNoWw, the anhidrosis part, where u cant sweat, sounds nice! who would to look like a sweaty pig in this age????" NO! Sweating is a necessary physiologic phenomenon because it lets your body cool down as it releases heat. If you dont sweat, you'd overheat and DIE!

Okay now that we've covered the basic info, lets get into it:

So, Batfam finds out about reader when she's just running into danger with little to no care for self preservation, and they dismiss it as you being just another dumb teen wanting to be hero and "change the world". Time passes by and Bruce is impressed by your passion and decides to take you under his wing.

It isnt until months later that Bruce discovers something odd about your behaviour. You were standing in the kitchen with the rest of the batkids, laughing and having a good time when he saw Dick had pulled out a hot pan of cookies from the oven and placed it on the aisle. The pan slipped, and without thinking, you had grabbed the hot pan with your bare hands very calmly and placed it back on the aisle, without so much as a hiss of pain or even a sweat.

And now that he thinks about it, Bruce has never seen you sweat. Not during training, not during summer, not even when after you ran laps around the mansion.

With a quick search on the Internet, he finds out about the disease and of course its Dick who he confides in first about his suspicions. Soon, the rest of the batfam has heard the rumours and now they're all watching you keenly to see if its true.

But Jason is the one who tests out the theory quickly by spilling some hot tea on your hand when you were busy talking to Tim about the importance of sleep. The room goes dead silent as they watch your hand turn red, yet you fail to react. It took you a few seconds to realise that they're all looking at you, and when you follow their gaze, it takes you a few seconds to react.

Or fake a reaction.

You shriek, pulling your reddening hand as you run to the sink and run it under cold water, your mind trying to come up with an excuse. But you know its too late when Bruce's hand comes to clasp your shoulder, pulling you away from the sink as his eyes examine your injured hand and... you.

"Bruce I-"

"I know, Y/n." He gives you assuring nod, carefully bandaging your hand as you sat in his office. "You have CIPA, hm?"

You looked down. Why bother lying? He's Batman, he'll find out anyways.

Bruce lifted your head and smiled gently at you. "Its okay. I'm not disappointed in you. I just... you could've told me." You shook your head. "If I did, you would've treated me differently... like a freak."

He sighed. "You are different, but I would've never treated you like a freak. You're not a freak. If anything, between us, I'm more of a freak than you." He was talking about being a hero, but you giggled at the thought of him referring to being a rich dude who cosplays in spandex.

Bruce cupped your cheek and smiled. "I promise, no one will treat you like a freak. But we will have to take some precautions for your safety."

He lied. You've never felt more like a freak than you do now.

Every single day would start off with Dick waking you up and sticking a thermometer in your mouth because he needs to make sure that you're not overheating, even though Bruce has set a thermostat in your room that he controls and he's programmed it to turn your room temperature change by the hour.

Then Dick would start checking you all over for any bruises or injuries, even a scratch, that you may have caused yourself in your sleep. Originally, Damian was the one who had a whole checklist as he examined your body, but that all ended the moment you smacked him when he asked you to lift your shirt. Dick would just have you go and check yourself in the bathroom and trust you when you said you're all good. Also, you're much nicer to Dick than you are to the rest of the brothers (its his puppy dog eyes and that sweet voice that compels you to do as he asks. He's just too nice.)

Dick would then lead you to down for breakfast with the family, where Alfred already has your glucometer out because of course, they must check your blood sugar level every day, lest they find out you're diabetic or something. Only then would you be served your meal, which is a highly nutritous, perfeclty seasoned, balanced dish because they want to make sure you dont have any vitamin deficiencies (because how would they know???? you dont feel pain). But you cant eat just yet. No no, whichever brother is closer, most often Jason, will first taste your food to make sure its not too hot to consume (because you dont realise you've burned the roof of your mouth that one time when Tim ate a slice of pizza that was fresh out of the oven and huppahhuffpuhh the morsel out). Jason would then give you the go to eat and you finally do. You make sure to finish the whole plate (because otherwise Bruce will make note of it and then interrogate you "medically" why you didnt feel like eating all of it?)

After breakfast, while the rest of the batkids get to go to school and work, you dont (because Bruce thinks that your immune system could be weak and he cant risk you catching any diseases from the outside.) No, you get a special trip to the infirmary where Bruce and Alfred do a more thorough medical check up, taking your vitals, JOTTING IT DOWN, while Alfred hooks you up to an IV drip of vitamins. And even though they go to such extents to ensure that you're healthy, they still take you to a skilled doctor once a week for regular check ups. Bruce wanted to keep the doctor in the house to do daily check ups, but you talked him out of it that you dont want to feel like a lab rat who has her blood taken every day. Once a week is fine, Bruce.

Once the medical check up is done, Bruce would then take you with him, either to Wayne enterprises where you sit in his office as he imparts you "business education that no school can teach you." which you believe because... well he has managed to triple the Wayne wealth even after his parents death. If he's working from home, then he'll let you accompany him in his home office where you can either read a book he chose for you (because Bruce prefers to homseschool you himself) or do a puzzle/case he created specifically for you. If he's working in the batcave, then he'll let you tag along but you can only work here by brainstorming or doing some computer research, but in no way are you allowed to ever go on field and fight. No, not since your last incident.

Just 2 months ago, you were patrolling with Jason (because Bruce refused to let you go alone now. He just wont risk it) and you encountered some bad guys who were a little more well equipped than you two had expected. A fight broke out, and in the process you got hurt badly. Of course, you didnt realise it because you didnt feel any of the punches or the bone fracturing. Jason could only look at you in dread as you smashed your head against the villain's head until the guy passed out, all while your nose bled, you were covered in bruises from top to bottom, AND you had a bone sticking out of your arm.

"Jay? I think I'm hurt?" You asked as blood coated your teeth.

After that, Bruce forbid you from going out on the field altogether because you just dont know when to stop. If it werent for bones sticking out or blood dripping down your face, you wouldnt know that you've been injured.

Anyways, at lunch, almost everyone has returned from work/school and you get yet another balanced meal (temperature tested by another brother). You're now scheduled for some exercises, usually conducted by Damian (under Dick's supervision because otherwise, you'd just be smacking that devil's spawn.) You guys use the gym in the basement, where Damian makes you run on the treadmill for some time, during which he does not take his eyes off you once because he needs to know when he should stop you, especially since you dont sweat or are even huff. If he didnt keep time, you could probably run for a long time and not realise that your legs or lungs are begging you to stop and take a break. As you hop off the machine, he's immediately taking your temperature. He does it after every exercise he makes you do.

After that is done, you spend time with Tim who likes to have you try on little gadgets that should "help you feel pain", but so far, he hasnt had any luck (but he doesn seem to be doing good in disguising trackers in your daily wear things). Oh and Damian loves to join in because he gets to sneak up on you and prick you with needles to help Tim see if your sensory pathways work. They dont, but you dont need your pain receptors to detect Damian coming up behind you as you smack him when he tries to prick you.

Then dinner is served, and then you're ushered straight to bed where Dick, or more often- Bruce has you do a self check like the one Dick does in the morning, but Bruce also makes sure to check your eyes to see if you "accidentally scratched your cornea" or whatever, tucks you in, tells you that he's so proud of you for how youre handling this and that you can come to him anytime, for anything. He kisses your forehead, wishes you goodnight, and leaves.

Half an hour later, Jason sneaks into your room with the goodies- junk food and video games. You two have the strongest bond because Jason is the one who treats you the most normal, and Jason does it partly to piss off Bruce but partly because he cares about your mental health. He knows it cant be good for you to be cooped up in the mansion under supervision like a bird in a gilded cage.

So sometimes, he sneaks you out of the mansion and takes you out on late night rides on his bike. You can even watch him fight villains, but you're sat far away and can never interferre.

Unfortunately for you two, this sneaking out will have to end because Bruce had recently decided to set up some cameras in your room because he wanted to make sure you slept well without any abnormal breathing patterns. Bruce hopes he doesnt have to use restraints on you, because he's not blind. He knows you're uncomfortable with this intricate routine and knowing your impulsive self, you'd probably break your own bones to get out of these restraints. And then he'll be forced to use sedatives and he really doesnt wanna rely on drugs... he likes your company when you're not droopy.

And as Bruce had anticipated, you broke down. You finally tried to leave, and he could see the color draining your face as you realised that there is no leaving.

"Why isnt the door opening?" You asked Bruce, as his four sons slowly surrounded you.

"You dont have to run away, Y/n-" He tried to calm you down but you flinched away, eyes wide as you looked at him like he was going to harm you.

"Bruce, why isnt the fucking door opening?" Your voice trembled, shooting him teary glare before focusing your eyes back on the boys who were closing in on you.

"You're meant to stay here, inside, where its safe." He answered, heart aching at the alarmed stance you took, your fight-or-flight was going to kick in. He took another step towards you, hands raised in surrender. "We can keep you safe-" thats all it took for you to bolt as the boys began chasing you. Realistically, you knew you couldnt escape them but something about their intensely concerned calls for your name had you jumping out of the window.

Glass shattered and sharp shards embedded themselves in your skin and feet, but you didnt react to them. No, your brain wasnt screaming in pain, it was screaming for you to get out!

Adrenaline pumped you to run into the dark woods surrounding the mansion, but you were soon knocked to the ground by Dick, who cushioned your fall by placing you on top of him as his hands wrapped around your form like a cage. "Y/n, calm down and listen-"

You began thrashing in his arms, screaming in agony. "Let ME GO! YOU'RE HURTING ME-!" Dick's arms loosened instinctively and you took that as a chance to elbow him in the throat and run, thanking some deity for letting Dick forget that you cant feel pain.

But your relief is short lived as Damian catches you and pushes you to the ground harshly. "Damian! Be careful! She could break a bone-"

"Bones can heal, Drake." Damian barked back, pulling you up before he pushed you against tree. "Let me go, you maniac-" Damian's hand clamped around your throat, making you shut up. "You're the one who's a maniac. Look at you! You've fucking hurt yourself because if your astounding stupidity!"

You whimpered, clawing at his hand wrapped around your throat. "Dami- p-please let go- you're hurting me!" You cried out, but your eyes went wide as he squeezed your throat and bared his teeth at you. "Not falling for it, dumbass." So... fooling Damian wasnt as easy a feat as it was fooling Dick.

You stopped the act and looked at him dead serious. "Let me go, Damian, or-"

"Or what?"

Or what? Or what? Did he think you were out of options? Out of escape plans?

You dont know why, but that triggered something inside you.

Damian and Tim could only watch as you suddenly slammed the back of your head against the tree. "Y/n-" He gasped in horror as you leaned your head forward before slamming it back against the hard rough surface. This time, Damian's hand that was wrapped around your neck felt your blood around his fingers.

"Its my life and I get to decide how I should live it." You sneered before raising your head again to bash it, but Damian's hand quickly slipped from your neck to the back of your head, cushioning it when you smacked it back, the skin on the back of his hand breaking as it made contact with the bark.

You pushed him away and tried to make a run for it, but Tim grabbed your wrist. You tried to pull away, but he had a death grip on it. "Y/n, stop! You need to listen-"

"Oh is that so? I think I need this." You used your other hand to punch yourself in the face (because Tim would've dodged it if you punched him), making your nose bleed. But you didnt feel any pain, and now you were acting like a super soldier zombie that has no concept of self preservation who is going through fucked up lengths to prove her point.

Your eyes caught the sight of a glass shard poking out of your thigh. "Wanna see something cool?" You pulled out the shard, not paying mind to the blood oozing out. "Y/n, stop-" Tim begged, and you saw Damian froze in the back as you raised the shard.

They didnt know what your next target was- slashing your wrists, slitting your throat, or stabbing your stomach, but fortunately, they didnt have to find out as Jason came up behind you and injected you with a tranquilliser.

Sadly, you never felt the prick or sensed the hero sneaking up behind you.

thoughts? also, what other diseases would u guys like me to write for. i just adore these cool medical abnormalities lol

#yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere jason todd #yandere dick grayson #yandere damian wayne #yandere damian x reader #yandere tim drake #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere family

420 notes · View notes

willowser · 3 days

Text

i keep thinking about touya going to the same spot he and his ex do drop off, every two weeks. it's outside some little bakery that he thinks is too expensive—and he has a sneaking suspicion that's why his baby mama chose the place—but he always buys his little bug something regardless. a pink pastry with lots of sprinkles and frosting, in the shape of a unicorn or something or other.

and you always come with him. have been for a few years now and you make friendly small talk with his ex and when his daughter jumps into your arms, you swing her around and you both giggle to each other, foreheads pressed together, eyelashes blinking close enough to make his heart swell.

and the first time you're not there, his daughter doesn't wait a minute after jumping out of her mom's car to frown up at him and ask, "where's bub?"

and truthfully, touya's been dreading this moment since he'd pissed you off enough to have you storming out of his apartment, a few days ago. still doesn't know what to tell her, how to explain that he's never loved someone the way he loves you and yet he's sabotaging everything anyway.

"bub is at bub's house."

her light little eyebrows pull down ever further, until a crease forms between them, and then she even takes another look behind him in case he's joking. "why?"

touya grinds his gum between his teeth and tells himself it's better than a cigarette. "she just is."

his ex doesn't say anything, thank god, but he can feel the once over she gives him. he looks like shit and he knows it, because he's aggravated and disappointed in himself, and all the things he'd normally use to deal with those feelings would break his sobriety. so he's only got some spearmint gum.

his daughter doesn't say anything else until they're in their seats on the train, her by the window, drawing shapes in the fog her breath makes. they go through a tunnel and the light from the day disappears and she loses interest, turning to stare up at touya as he closes his eyes and leans his head back as far as it can go.

"are you and bub mad at each other?"

touya opens his eyes, but stares only at the ceiling of the train. all he can see is the hurt on your face when he'd yelled at you, the anger that he drew out, like a poison. "it's—" one thing he tries not to do to his kid, however, is lie. "somethin' like that."

she shuffles around in her seat until she's facing him fully, leaning her head against the back of it as she blinks her big, blue eyes up at him. "did she be mean to you?"

"no."

"did you be mean to her?"

it seems so complicated, when touya thinks about it. why he'd started a fight with you, where his insecurity comes from, why he wants you so bad but is too afraid to admit it out loud—but then his kid makes it seem so easy. so silly.

touya shuffles until he's facing her, too, and even scoots down in his chair so they're eye-level, almost like whispering school girls at a slumber party. "yeah," he admits. "i was kinda mean to her."

"but why?"

touya frowns and still doesn't know what to say. the city skyline opens up behind her, out in the distance, and he watches the setting sun over the buildings until it starts to make him sick. "you remember when you had that scooter, and you fell and scraped your knee?" she nods. "and then you didn't want to ride it anymore because you were afraid you'd do it again? it's...like that."

not a single look of understanding comes across her face.

touya sighs and scoots back upright, bending to dig his phone from his pocket. "you wanna talk to her?"

"yeah!"

he pulls up your contact in his phone—just your name and all the hearts removed, because he's petty like that—but instead of staring at it like he has been for days—he finally calls. it wouldn't surprise him if you didn't answer, but he gnaws his lip as it rings, and it seems like he and his little girl both hold their breath.

"hello?"

when he hands off the phone to his daughter, she happily snatches it up, turning on her knees to look out the window as she grins. "hi bub!"

and touya still doesn't know what to say or how he'll fix it, but he finds some comfort—some of the words—when he hears the tone in your voice change, all sing-song and adoring. "hi, my angel!"

#cw children #✿ thoughts: dabi/touya #i've been thinking about this all day #his daughter IMMEDIATELY is like #🤨🤨🤨 uh ???? 🤨🤨🤨#you forgot to bring something dad #LMAO #this is trash garbage but i'm sleepy 😌#✿ theme: dad dabi/touya

382 notes · View notes

giamee · 1 day

Text

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🫀 )

there's a certain beauty and pain in being with someone carnally, and nothing more than that

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | friends with benefits, more angst than smut, like this is basically all angst no smut lol, kinda short too mb

header art (left to right) by pcrow ; artsquirre ; _sekidesu

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ being in a situationship is all fun and games until u catch feelings fr 😕. anyways. let's go thru that pain in this. lowkey i wanna make a part 2 to this with a happy ending cos im SOFT lmaooo

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ALHAITHAM.

BEING IN... WHATEVER THIS RELATIONSHIP COULD BE CLASSIFIED AS was not good for your mental health. in the past weeks that you and alhaitham had started sleeping together, you had been plunged into one of the worst emotional rollercoasters that you had ever been on.

what didn't help was the way he treated you so differently depending on the setting. you understood not wanting people to know, but did he have to ignore you entirely in public?

he wouldn't even spare you a glance as you walk past each other in the halls, eyes stubbornly trained ahead, leaving you steamrolled in his icy trail. and if you dare to try and talk to him- he'd look at you like you've grown a second head, completely shunning you and walking away as quickly as possible.

but it's a different story behind closed doors- in private, he's the sweetest man alive.

he'll whisper such sweet nothings into your ear, wipe your tears so tenderly with his thumbs like a lover would. he'd prop himself up with an elbow just so that he can gaze into your eyes as he pushes into you, even smiling at you as he watches the way your expression changes.

and the way he kisses you is what really throws you- always with such desperation and urgency, like he needs you in order to breathe when it's quite the opposite. he kisses you like he loves you, and the sensation is dizzying, perplexing when those fantasies are ripped from you in favour of reality.

but you know that you won't ever be his. not properly.

if it was meant to be, he'd at least smile at you as he passed. the more rational parts of your brain screamed at you to call it quits before you're sucked in too deep, but some part of you still held onto the hope that one day he would see you then smile.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 THOMA.

IT TRULY HURT TO REMEMBER THAT you weren't actually dating thoma. it was easy to get fooled- he was a gentleman, making sure to treat you right even when you weren't fucking. he'd make sure that you were okay, and he never kicked you out as soon as it was over.

he'd ask about your day, take interest in you and what you're doing. and arguably, worst of all, he wasn't afraid to be seen with you. the details that blurred the lines defining your relationship seemed like an afterthought, if the way his arm wrapped around your shoulders indicated anything.

you were his, unofficially or not. it only took a glance to be able to tell.

you liked to think that he was yours, too. that you meant something to him- more than just a pastime and a stress reliever.

there were moments where it was easier to believe it- with the way his eyes remain transfixed on you as you writhe in pleasure, cries of his name leaving your lips- his little coos and reassurances buttering you up, having you right in his palm, so pliant and willing for him.

maybe he got off on knowing that he makes you feel good in every sense of the word. seeing you happy acting as some sort of foreplay, all so he can claim you as his in every way except the one that you wanted most.

the urge to tell him how you feel, those three little words that dangle on the tip of your tongue and fight to be freed, are a constant struggle. but something inside you, some sick gut instinct, stopped you from blurting it out every time.

the fear of his reaction- disgust? confusion? kept you uncertain. a part of you would die if he didn't reciprocate your feelings. it was better not to know, and keep living in the make-belief of being his without the label.

you could only hope that you would be proved wrong one day.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 WRIOTHESLEY.

DESPITE EVERYTHING, YOU COULDN'T HELP BUT crawl back to him every single time. a never-ending cycle- one that you couldn't escape even if you wanted to.

both of you knew how it goes. you unblock him, play coy for a few messages before he's telling you to come over. you fuck like it's the last time you ever will- it never is- and then you spend the night.

he'll hold you, play with your hair, even kiss you, and you pretend that it's enough. if you're lucky, he'll even lend you a shirt that smells of him to sleep in.

and this facade is fine- while it lasts. but then you remember why you blocked him in the first place- the forced indifference, his refusal to open up. the way it hurt your heart to be pushed aside.

and then you go and ask him what you mean to him. he'll smile at you without mirth, the both of you knowing how this conversation goes. he doesn't want anything serious. you want more.

and then it's tears, you ripping off his shirt and throwing it back at him, storming out of his place and blocking his number with shaking fingers.

you cry yourself to sleep in your cold and empty bed- already sorely missing the warmth of his body as he holds you close to him in his sleep, whether he's aware of that or not.

and you're fine, you tell yourself. you can live without him. and you do, for a little while. honestly, he's the last thing on your mind as you distract yourself with work or seeing your friends.

but then a lonely night gets the best of you, abd you find your finger hovering over the call button next to his name. and you press it, cursing yourself for doing it.

he picks up at the third ring, voice smug as if he knew you couldn't go much longer without him.

and he's right, unfortunately.

you're already out the door, on the way to his apartment.

𝜗𝜚 genshin impact masterlist

261 notes · View notes

bell4donn4 · 1 day

Text

“TOO SWEET” -Luke Castellan

Tags: lowkey loser!luke, Hades!reader, mention of drinking, not established relationships, reader’s mean and lonely, Luke likes to be used? Ig, kinda toxic dynamic between the two

life at camp was always so boring, so empty.

the only fun thing you could do was corrupt the forest’s satyrs to get a bottle of wine.

Truly, being at camp was exhausting, especially as you got older.

Everyone excepted the older kids to help the new. But that was none of your concern, you were more than convinced that maybe camp could’ve invested into a teacher or two instead of forcing children to take the lead on other children.

Chiron was barely around, and Mr. D was anything but a role model.

The only person at camp who seemed to enjoy being helpful was Luke Castellan.

Head counsoler of the Hermes’s cabin; he seemed to be the closest thing to a dad figure kids could have in that place.

He was always doing something, always busy giving a helping hand to whoever needed.

Camp’s golden boy for sure. Bright and nice, funny and sunny.

You didn’t believe any of the reassuring words that came out of his mouth.

There was absolutely no way he liked being used like that, forced to take responsibility for kids that were not his.

You remember vividly the one time, years back, when you stumbled upon a crying kid. Luke was kneeled infront of him, patting on his head as he comforted him. “Its going to be okay” — “don’t worry, okay? Everything is going to be fine”

He was barely 15 when that happened.

You wouldn’t know how to comfort anyone now, let alone at 15.

Somehow, you hated Luke for it. You hated the way he would simply let everything slide on him, the way he allowed everyone to abuse his niceness.

You would never let anyone do that to you. You hardly talked with anyone, actually; preferring to be on your own instead of hanging around the loudness of the other campers, which all seemed so happy to be there.

In fact, the only person who you would occasionally “talked” to was Luke. Many times he caught you breaking the rules, and many times he allowed you to go and redeem yourself instead of telling Chiron. And many other times he found you doing the same exact things, even tho you told him you’ll never do em again.

He was sugar-rotting sweet. Never telling on you.

You hated him for that as well. Why couldn’t he just report you instead of looking at you with his puppy like-eyes? Almost begging you to go sleep and make his job easier instead of getting drunk almost every night.

You wondered why he still covered you, even after years of this routine happening. But you just figured it was his nauseously king heart.

You wish he’d rebel for once, even to you. You wish he’d just tell you to fuck off and go to bed- but he never did.

“It’s not good for you y/n”

It surprised you he even knew your name.

“You know- getting constantly wasted. I feel like this is not the right way to cope” — “with whatever you’re dealing with”

“I’m dealing with shitty parents Luke, the same thing you’re dealing with”

Your sarcastic remarks often burned on his skin. He wish you’d just listen to him for once- instead of making it so hard for him.

“Oh”

Your infamous smirk would hit him hard as a brick, every single time.

This was an example of the nightly conversations you had.

Sometimes you would go as far as asking him if he wants a sip, other times you’d just tell him to piss off instead. Depending on how you felt.

During the day, you simply didn’t speak at all. Weird, anyone would find it, but when the sunlight was out you wouldn’t acknowledge his existence; even ignored him, perhaps.

He didn’t mind- not that he’d show it anyways, but it was pretty in character for you to do something like that.

The moody daughter of hades- what else could he expect from you?

Yet sometimes it’d hurt.

Maybe he did care more than he should’ve. But again, wasn’t that in character for him? To be overly good and kind and caring towards the unworthy?

Only very few times you’d spare him a words. Usually when someone needed him and you happened to be the one sent to call him.

Perhaps it was okay to him; he grew rough and unloved- he didn’t care if he wasn’t more than a secretive nightly swing to you.

As long as he could have you, he was willing to be used. Because that’s all he knew anyways.

163 notes · View notes

froggibus · 3 days

Text

Sex Rocks! - AMAB! Venture

Pairing: AMAB! Sloan Cameron x fem! Reader (reader uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Sloan is in for much more than they bargained for when they find a statue with magical properties—and you might be the only one who can help them out

CW: porn with plot, AMAB! Venture, sex pollen (but it’s a magical sex statue), dubcon, masturbation, showering, dirty thoughts (abt reader), slight voyeurism, blowjob, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, cock riding, mating press, multiple orgasms, protected AND unprotected sex, doggy style, multiple rounds, overstim, lots of cum, (think that's everything) use of the word shaft (im so sorry i hate this word but there’s only so many synonyms for dick)

yes the title is a pun ^.^ i meant to post this way earlier in the day but i got distracted and didn't end up finishing til tonight and it came out WAY LONGER than i thought. this is fr the longest smut ive ever written. anyway venture whores hope you all enjoy <3 if you guys have more ideas for venture or overwatch, send them here, i'd love to do some writing this week

It must’ve been Sloan’s lucky day. After barely an hour of searching, the glittering artifact they’d been looking for seemed to jump right out. Though the dusty gold colour blended in with the shimmering sand of the cavern, the three pink gems of the small statuette seemed to call to them.

The figure was cold to the touch and buttery, barely bigger than the size of their hand. It was shaped like a beautiful curvy woman, with full breasts accentuated with the pink stones and a thick tummy—the likeness of some old, forgotten deity that Sloan could never remember the name of.

They took out a soft piece of cut cloth and wrapped the statue before tucking it in their pack and beginning the short trek to the surface. Sloan buzzed the whole way up, that warm tingling washing over them. The kind they always felt when they found a new artifact, or when you laughed at one of their dumb jokes.

As the surface came into view, the golden sunshine just beginning to dip below the horizon, the warmth grew stronger. It had been a hot day, and it seemed that though the sun was setting, the heat had not yet begun to dissipate. They took a long pause, letting themself rest on the rocks outside of the cave.

Wiping the sweat away from their forehead, they took a big drink from the canteen of water they’d brought along with them. It was a short trek, they weren’t usually this sweaty and parched from something so basic—but with the warmth of the day at its peak, they shrugged it off.

The car they’d taken was only just down the trail, maybe ten minutes away. With one last sip of their cold water, they tucked it into their pack and started the walk back. The sky was turning pink as they set off, but slowly turned to purple and then the rich black of night.

Despite the day’s end, the heat only grew more unbearable with the walk. Their thighs cramped as they made their way down the trail, their heart beginning to race. Whatever, they tried to ignore it and power through to the car.

Sweat coated Sloan’s forehead and chest by the time they made it to their vehicle. Their hair was slicked to the back of their neck, and the t-shirt they’d been wearing was rendered near see-thru.

“Jeez,” they sighed, tugging off their t-shirt.

They tossed the sweaty fabric into their backseat along with their pack before sliding in the front seat to drive. They kept the AC on full blast the whole trip back home, though it did little to stop the boiling in their blood.

Sloan was just pulling off the highway when a gasp forced its way out at the sudden tight feeling in their pants. They risked a glance down to their hard cock now straining against the thick fabric of their carharts. They shook it off, turning onto their street and trying to ignore the feeling of the bulge in their pants only growing with each minute.

It was almost painfully hard by the time they made it home. Sloan almost forgot their pack in the back of the car in their race to get inside and free their aching cock from the fabric that confined it.

A sigh ghosted their lips when their cock sprung free from their boxers and they wrapped their sweaty palm around it. Their core was near sweltering, their cock throbbing in need.

With a glance at the door to make sure it was locked behind them, Sloan spat in their hand and started to spread it across their aching cock. A shiver crawled its way up their spine, acting as a brief reprieve from the heat that threatened to consume them. They clamped a hand over their mouth and began to slide their hand up their length.

With barely a touch, they were already so sensitive. Pre cum dripped down the tip, pooling across their fingertips and mixing with the saliva already spread over their skin. They squeezed harder, dragging their hand up and down faster. Their muffled moans vibrated against the clammy skin of their palm, their eyes falling shut as their hand fell into a rhythm.

Thoughts of you filled their head. Thoughts of your smile, of your warm skin, of pinning you to the bed and using you however they pleased. Sloan gasped, opening their eyes as they came into their palm.

Fuck. Cum rolled across their fingers, down their still hard cock and collected into the hair at the base of their pubic bone. They smeared the remainder of the cum on their thighs, shaking off the aftershocks of their orgasm and deciding a cold shower would solve both the mess they made, and the throb between their legs.

With their clean hand, they dragged their backpack with them all the way to their bedroom, tossing it in the corner before grabbing a towel and heading into the bathroom. They didn’t wait for the water to warm before stripping and stepping beneath the brisk stream.

The cool water settled the burning beneath their skin—but only just barely. Much to Sloan’s dismay, it also did nothing to soothe the ache between their legs. It was almost embarrassing, having an unrelenting boner for no reason like they were in school again.

They sighed, squeezing some coconut scented body wash into their hand and slicking across their cock. They didn’t bother to change the water back to warm, instead opting to let the frigid stream drip down their back. The nice smelling soap felt much, much better than their own spit—but they could imagine a few things that would feel even better.

Like your pretty lips wrapped around their tip, those kind eyes of yours pleading at them to cum in your mouth and—Sloan moaned, fingers clenching around their hard length. Just the thought of you touching them, or them touching you, was enough to have Sloan gasping and furiously jerking their cock.

Drops of soap flew away from their palm with every stroke, splattering the tile of the shower in front of them. God, wouldn’t they love to do that to you. What they wouldn’t give to do that to you. To have you lay down in front of them, completely at their mercy while they fucked you relentlessly and left you covered in their cum.

Their cock twitched, and then they were cumming. Wave after wave of hot cum burst out, coating the tile in front of them before being washed away by the water. Hard, shaking breaths wracked their chest as their senses returned to them and they could once again feel the cool water against their tanned skin.

As they looked at the cum mixing with the water down the drain, all they could think was ‘what a waste.’

It only took ten minutes after their shower for the tingling in their cock to become unbearable again. The heat had returned almost immediately—and with a vengeance—but they’d managed to ignore the tenderness between their legs for only ten minutes.

Sloan was glad they didn’t bother putting their clothes back on as they settled into their bed and grasped their shaft once more. Cumming once or twice a day was normal for them, but this was something else entirely. Something had to be wrong.

Sloan pushed away their fears and started once again stroking their dick, leftover water and precum acting as a lubricant for their hand to easily slide around. They closed their eyes, and let themself think of you once more.

How their cum would look running down your thighs, or splattered on your back. How nice your hands would feel gripping their cock, how you’d just beg them to fuck you.

Sweat dripped down their chest, wetting their tummy and the dark hair at the base of their cock. How long had they been jerking off this time? They risked a teary eyed glance at the screen of their phone—had it really been almost twenty minutes since they laid down in bed?

Twenty minutes and they were no closer to coming, but their dick was growing uncomfortably hard. A sigh passed through their lips. Their hand wasn’t enough, they needed something more, something hotter.

Their mind went to you, pleasure hazed thoughts wondering if they called you, would you come? Would you help them? Before they could think it through, their fingers were dancing across the screen. Just the sight of the tiny contact picture of you at the top of their screen had them squeezing tighter, thick drips of pre cum rolling down their tip.

Sloan lets themself fall back into bed, their mind dancing away to thoughts of you sinking down on their cock. They roll their head to the side, their eyes catching sight of the bag they’d carelessly tossed in the corner just before their shower.

Could the statue have done this? There were myths surrounding it, sure, but this? The thought was preposterous a week ago. Now though, with their insatiable lust, the thought doesn’t seem so crazy to Sloan.

Shit. They shouldn’t drag you into this. If it really is the statue, they don’t want to expose you to this. They reach for their phone to ask you not to come, to send you away, but just as their palm reaches the cold metal, the front door clicks open.

“Sloan?” You call, peaking your head in the front door. As soon as you’d gotten their message, you’d left your house. You’re talking more to yourself than them at this point, tiptoeing through the dark of their home. “I used the spare key you gave me to get in…are you here?”

Sloan bit their lip at the sound of your voice, risking a glance to the bag that contained the statue. Maybe inviting you here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“In here!” they call. Their voice is raspy, dripping with the need radiating from their core.

You follow the sound of their voice to the closed door of their bedroom, warm light leaking out from the cracks. It’s Sloan, and they don’t sound like they’re in danger, but something about their voice…

You push open the door. It takes two seconds for you to scan the room, two seconds for your eyes to fall on Sloan—sweaty, writhing and desperately jerking their cock in bed—and two seconds for you to turn away, covering your eyes.

“Shit,” you gasp. “I–I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

But it’s strange. They called you here to help them, they knew you were going to come into their room—was this what they needed your help with? You couldn’t help but clench your legs at the thought, a heat rushing to your core.

Sloan’s voice cut through the darkness of your hand. “I-it’s okay,” they say. “You can look.”

You slowly peel your hand away from your eyes. Though they covered themself with a blanket, you could still see the glistening skin of their chest, and the up-down motion of their hand beneath the fabric.

Sloan knows it’s shameless of them to keep stroking their cock while talking to you, while you’re right there watching—but they can’t stop. Now that you’re here in front of them, the pressure’s increased tenfold.

You squint. “What’s going on?”

“I found that statue.” They keep jerking off.

“And?”

“The rumors about it were true.”

“Fuck,” you curse.

When they’d been telling you about the myths behind the statue, you’d both laughed it off, stealing wanton glances at each other as you did. They’d assured you it wasn’t possible, that there was no scientific reason a statue would bear unto its users an insatiable appetite for sex.

Seeing them now, though, all sweaty and desperate, has you thinking they were wrong.

“Sloan,” you say calmly, stepping in the room and gently shutting the door behind you, “what can I do to help?”

They bite your lip, and it’s just now that you notice their eyes are almost completely black in lust. A shiver runs up your spine.

They pull back the blanket. “Touch me,” they swallow. “Please.”

You glance at their thick, throbbing cock dripping in precum. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, wrapped up in the worst possible way. It wouldn’t be right—they’re clearly not thinking straight.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sloan’s not sure whether it’s the statue, or their frustration, or some terrible combination of the two that prompts them to say, “oh don’t tell me you haven’t been wanting me to fuck you for months.”

Their brazenness sends another wave of heat to your core, your underwear suddenly feeling wetter than usual. “Sloan,” you say carefully.

“If you’re worried about consent,” they rasp. “I want it. All the time. For months, too. I think about it nonstop.”

Their words ease your nerves, and you find yourself approaching their bedside. Your eyes stayed glued to their cock and the hand furiously stroking it. “What do you think about?”

They watch you, dedicating each pump of their length to you. “I think about you while I fuck myself. I think about—about fucking you, and having you bounce on my cock and—god.”

You sink down on the bed next to them, wrapping your hand around the one rubbing their dick. “Let me.”

They slide their hand away, letting you take over. Already, your hand feels a million times better than theirs ever did, the ache in their core finally beginning to relent. They lay their head back, watching your hand glide across their sticky skin.

They suck in a breath. “Fuck,” they look at you through their lashes. “Use your mouth.”

You’re taken aback by their command. Their cock looks so inviting, dripping wet and throbbing in your palm. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had which only makes you want it more.

You look them in the eyes while you lick a bead of precum away from the tip. Sloan shivers, wrapping a hand in your hair and pulling you down. You gasp as you take their cock into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it. It’s salty, a mix of sweat and precum, with a strange undertone of coconut—but it’s just how you imagined it.

Your jaw strains to take them into your mouth, their tip hitting the back of your throat after only a few seconds. You gag slightly, but Sloan only pushes your hand down further, groaning at the warmth of your mouth. This was exactly what they needed.

As soon as you start to see black spots, they pull you off. A strand of drool connects your lips to their length, dripping and coating your chin. They hum at the sight of you, so filthy already.

“Do you like how it tastes?”

You’re so flustered, so bewildered by the situation that you can only nod, clenching the base of their cock. You put your lips back on their tip and eagerly slide down for more. Their calloused fingers still tug at your hair, using the strands like reins to push and pull you how they see fit.

Sloan watches you intently the whole time, admiring the spit that coats your mouth and the way your throat bulges when they pull you a certain way. They’ve dreamt about fucking you for months now, but none of their wildest dreams could ever compare to this.

Despite the way your eyes water, Sloan pulls you down further. You look so fucking cute choking on their thick cock—they can’t help it. When you finally slap a hand against their thigh, they let go of your head and watch you gasp for air.

“Get on your knees,” they command.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice with the way your throat burns. The dominance in them only makes you wetter, a noticeable throbbing rushing through your clit. You’re all too eager to settle on your knees at their bedside.

They cup your chin, swiping their thumb across your lips to smear your drool and their pre across them. “So cute,” they murmur.

You lean back in to take their cock once more, but they tsk at you. Just as you tilt your head in confusion, you watch as Sloan grips their cock and rubs the messy, wet tip across your mouth. They smear it all across your face, making a mess all over your cheeks and nose.

A whine slips from your lips before you can stop it, but Sloan only laughs at it and finally lets their cock slap against your mouth. You open wide and take them once more, rolling your tongue over their length.

“So eager,” they tease, their fingers resuming their position in your hair, “if I’d known you’d be such a slut for me, I would’ve fucked you months ago.”

Sloan watches the shame glimmer in your eyes, followed by pure pleasure, and doesn’t miss the way you rock your hips against the floor.

It only takes a few minutes of you on your knees before they’re coming, pushing your head down so you have no choice but to swallow their cum. Your eyes shoot wide as the hot cum spills in your mouth, pulling back from their cock and opening your mouth so they can see it.

“Good girl,” they purr. “Now swallow.”

You nod and obey without a second thought, licking their cock a few more times after to clean up the excess. “Sloan,” you say quietly, your voice raspy from the way they just fucked your throat.

“Hm?”

“Do you have condoms?”

They tap the nightstand that you’re sitting next to. “You wanna fuck me?”

You pass them the condom, eagerly waiting as they lay back in bed and roll it over their cock. Though they’re slow to put it on, you don’t miss the way their hands shake in anticipation.

Sloan watches you the whole time as you strip, discarding your clothes as quickly as you can. You climb onto the bed and straddle their waist, a knee on either side of their hips. Their hands clench your waist tightly, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise.

Usually Sloan would be happy to let you adjust, but with the warmth of your pussy right there, they can’t wait any longer. Using your hips as leverage, they thrust up into you, the tip of their cock bottoming out against your cervix.

You cry out, burying your head against their sticky chest. “Sloan,” you whine.

“Sorry,” they pant, but continue thrusting into you.

You relax into them, slamming your hips into theirs to meet their rhythm. It’s painful at first, both the stretch of their cock and how deep it reaches—but it’s amazing, too.

Sloan barely thinks as they pound in and out of you, using your own body weight as leverage to get their cock deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your whines are like music to their ears, complemented by the rhythm of matching groans they loose every time their cock brushes your cervix.

You cum so hard you swear you go blind for a second. Everything is hot, your vision goes white, and all you can focus on is the way your cunt is gushing around their cock, juices coating their thighs. You go limp on their chest for a minute, letting them fuck you like a toy while you recover.

Sloan’s own orgasm isn’t far behind, their cock twitching as they spill into the condom—though they’d much rather spill into you. They almost draw blood with how tightly their nails dig into your sides, and the only word they seem to remember is your name.

Even though they’re unbearably hot and their cock is so sensitive it hurts, they still need more.

“Can I keep going? Tell me I can keep going.”

You’re exhausted from the brutal pace they’ve set, but their cock fills you so well and they sound so desperate, you have no choice but to say yes. Upon your agreement, Sloan is flipping you onto the mattress beneath them and bending your legs to your chest.

They can get deeper like this, and Sloan knows it too. They start their pace off slower this time, trying to give you time to recover before their own need takes over. They hold your hands, pinning them above your head while they fuck you.

Their eyes lock with yours as they increase the pace, the tip of their cock hitting that spot inside of you perfectly every time. There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, but it only makes them harder.

“Too deep,” you whine, squeezing their hands with as much strength as you can muster.

“You don’t love having me fill you up?” They mumble into your ear, “if I can’t stuff you with my cum, I’ll fill you with my cock.”

You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, their dirty words sending you over the edge. You try to clench your knees together but Sloan’s body is in the way. They fuck you through your orgasm, squeezing your hands back with every bit of pressure you squeeze theirs with.

“That’s it,” though their words are soft, they punctuate each one with a thrust, “cum on my cock.”

They slide their hands down your body, resting on your hips once more. Their thrusts start to get sloppy, and you know they can’t last much longer like this. You reach up, desperate for something—anything—to ground yourself, your fingers coming in contact with their hair.

Sloan whines and cums in one sloppy motion, resting their head on your neck while they lazily thrust through their high. Soft groans and whines vibrate against your collarbone.

It takes a minute for them to collect their strength again, pulling their cock out of you. You look at them through tear blurred vision, eyes widening at the cum soaked condom dripping into the wild tangle of hair at the base of their length. There’s a ring of white around their cock from it all, and the only thought crossing your mind is how badly you want to lick it off.

Sloan can’t decide whether to admire the sheer amount of cum filling the condom, or be disappointed that they weren’t able to fuck it into you instead. They pull it off of their cock and toss it onto the floor—it’ll be a pain to clean later, but they don’t care. They reach into their nightstand for another one, but your hand wraps around their wrist first.

“You’re still hard?”

As if in reply, their cock twitches against your leg. Though the searing heat has finally begun to fade, the pure need coursing through their veins has not.

“You’re done already?” They counter.

“N-no,” you say quickly, though your pussy feels unbearably sensitive in the cold room. “But you don’t need to use that.”

They look down at the purple wrapper in their hand, then back up at you. Their eyes practically glitter in anticipation. “Raw?”

You nod shyly, reaching out your arms to beckon them back to you. You’ll never be able to match their insatiable pace—you know that—but you told them you’d help, even if it means letting them use you like a fleshlight.

They plant a kiss to the base of your throat, a devilish twinkle in the dark of their eyes. “Roll onto your knees.”

With their help, you roll onto your stomach and pull your knees up, arching your back to give them access to your dripping cunt. Too tired to keep your chest up, you rest your cheek against the single pillow in their bed and let yourself relax.

Sloan’s hands retrace the marks they left on your lips earlier, positioning you perfectly to line up with their cock. They land a harsh slap to your cunt with the head of their cock and slip it in all at once, relishing in the gasp that leaves your lips.

They rock their hips into yours, reaching up to tangle a hand in your hair. With one hand gripping your hips and another in your hair, they piston into you. You bite your lip to try and cover the onslaught of moans they fuck out of you and pray that Sloan doesn’t have neighbors—although at this point, they’ve probably heard enough.

“Feels even better raw,” they groan, balls slapping against your clit with a particularly brutal thrust. “S’like it was made for me.”

The burning in the pit of your stomach grows at their dirty words, your pussy utterly gushing around their length. Without the condom, you can feel the desperate throbbing of their cock, feel every twitch of their tip when they bottom out inside of you. They reach everywhere inside you, rubbing places you didn’t even know you had.

Waves of pleasure roll over you, each more intense after the last. Your pussy flutters around Sloan’s cock, but their pace doesn’t slow. They keep slamming into you, lewd slapping noises loud enough to cover your desperate moans. They tug your hair hard, pulling you closer, and roll their hips against yours.

Their cockhead brushes your cervix and your eyes roll back in the sharp pleasure that travels through your pussy. Drool leaks from the side of your mouth and your moans transform from fully formed words to stupid sounding babbles.

Sloan releases your hair from their grip and moves their hand to massage your ass. “Sounds so cute when you whine,” they coo breathily.

Your senses all come flooding back to you when you feel the first spurt of their hot cum inside of you. Your tummy flutters with butterflies, your pussy contracts, and you cum with them. Both of you writhe in bed against each other, Sloan’s desperate, near primal pants like music to your ears.

“Fuck,” you groan as you collapse into the bed.

They keep their cock inside of you, shallowly thrusting their cum back in. “Please don’t stop,” they whine. “Please, I-I need more. Please.”

Your whole body burns, your pussy is so sensitive you’re not sure you’d even be able to cum again. “Sloan,” you sigh, looking back at them.

“Please. Please let me keep using you. Please. You don’t even have to do anything but please let me use this pussy,” they pinch your clit in emphasis. “Please.”

“Well, with begging like that,” you joke.

Sloan wastes no time slamming their cock back inside of you, and though you can hardly feel the harsh slapping motion, you can tell their pace has slowed. You lay there, sweaty and hot and with their cum dripping out and being fucked back in.

Sloan murmurs praises to you while they thrust, their mind half gone from how fucking horny they are. They can see cum dripping down your pussy, down your thighs and it’s so filthy and it’s so hot and all they want is more. They pound into you, chasing that final high they may or may not get, desperately gripping your sensitive skin until there’s marks.

Finally, they cum again, their hot cum gushing until you’re so full it starts to burst from the seams between your pussy and their cock. Sloan watches it leak out in a trance, as if in disbelief that not only did they fuck you, they also just fucked you raw.

The heat has completely faded from their body, and as they pull out from your cunt and watch the cum drip, their cock finally starts to soften. “Are you okay?”

You manage a weak thumbs up from where you lay in the bed.

Just as they go to put on their pants, their cock twitches again, and the heat comes rushing back. Sloan sighs, looking at you guiltily, “think you can do a round 2?”

overwatch masterlist | masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #ow #overwatch fic #xreader #overwatch smut #venture x reader #venture x you #venture smut #venture overwatch #sloan cameron #sloan cameron x reader #Sloan cameron x you #Sloan Cameron smut

165 notes · View notes

namisin · 21 hours

Text

18+ content, MDNI. had to get this one off my chest after listening to August again.

the last thing you expected to hear after the automatic voicemail message, was your ex-boyfriend's voice crackling through the speaker.

"hey," he greeted, sounding breathless, "been a while, right?"

gojo fucking satoru. the two of you had broken up well over six months ago, with him citing he just didn't have the time to juggle a girlfriend and curse-slaying anymore. you let him go amicably, why push something that wasn't working out for you both, right?

considering he was the one to break up with you, his appearance in your voicemail box was wholly out of left field.

"i know, i know...we broke up a while ago, and i'm over you- i swear! i just, uh, saw your last instagram post."

your brows furrowed over narrowed eyes; the fuck was he doing stalking your socials?

"i probably shouldn't be this pissed off about it, but you moved on, huh? postin' each other now, congrats. must be serious."

it didn't sound very congratulatory, you noted. it sounded more like he wanted to rip the guy's head clean off.

"i know this is pretty outta pocket of me, but, speakin' of photos... i found a pretty cute one goin' back through my gallery. can you guess which one?"

the fuck was he doing still looking at old pics of you?

"yea i know, there's a lot of cute ones of you to pick from... but it's the one of you on my floor, with your ass way up in the air 'n my dick in your mouth."

embarrassed heat slithered across your cheeks; you remembered it vividly.

"like your outfit in this one too. it-it was a fun one to take off that night. remember how fucking insatiable you were for me? sitting in my lap, rubbing me through my pants... shit... i was sure everyone would see how hard you made me. had to get you home quick and shove my dick in your mouth to finally shut you up."

hearing his chuckles hiss through your phone, you wanted to reach through it and smack the smug look off his face you just knew was there. you still couldn't help but notice how his breath hitched, catching on his words.

"anyway, i-i called to see... to see if you'd let me fuck one more time. for old time's sake. i know i could treat you so much better, so c'mon princess. le'me fuck you just one more time. make you cream and drool and fuckin' squirt all over me just one more time. you know i'm good for it."

it was wrong — you knew it was wrong and it pitted your chest — but you just couldn't help the way your thighs pressed together. he wasn't wrong about being good for it, though.

"i know you never lost my number so call me, huh? or don't. i'll get it if you don't, i'll even delete the photos but- i know you still want this, princess. say the word and i'll come pick you up from your lil' boy toy, show you how you're meant to be fucked. i know he isn't doing it like i can, so—"

"—call me, yea?"

#⚝ — lee's diary.#ex bf!gojo #fem reader #jjk smut #jjk drabbles #gojo satoru #jujustsu kaisen #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru imagine #jujutsu gojo #jjk x reader #YELLING INTO THE VOID I LOVE THIS AUDIO SM #RAAAAHHHHH

131 notes · View notes

heartlyrins · 2 days

Note

HAII any quick drabbles abt dad!blade? i remember reading one if ur dad!jy posts that blades daughter have it WORSE than jing yuans...... :3

I just realized I never wrote about daddy!blade, I honestly forgot.. 😓 daddy blade deserves some recognition too

Tw:incest, noncon, verbal and mental abuse mentions, past child abandonment, ass abuse again!! Dldr under the keep reading <3 don't come after me when you've seen the warnings itself

Just want to say that you absolutely do not want this man as your father. I mean.. When he was Yingxing he practically abandoned you in his house, leaving you chores, making you cook for yourself once you were old enough.. And when he means old enough he means that when you reached the age you could start talking.

I mean it. This man would leave you to do your own thing like you aren't an 8 year old child, STILL NEEDING GUIDANCE FROM HIM but he leaves you alone anyways to make shitty weapons. Then when you were like 13 he apparently committed some shitty crime and sentenced to prison while being immortal or stuff..

You had a couple of years from him, your uncle Jing Yuan takes care of you while he's not there and you much prefer Jing Yuan more than him. But we'll, after he's been through shit and fought Jingliu over and over again he came back to you.

New form, black hair.. Is this even your father?? And now he's basically evil so he drags you to go follow him do stellaron hunters mission with him, but the catch is.. You stay trapped in his room while he's doing mission which makes it all the worse.

You much prefer him just leaving you alone and abandoning you instead of staying trapped in some kind of spaceship.. Strange spider lady takes care of you now, but only in terms of food or something.

Then when your father comes home his body is stained of blood and he drags you over to bathe with him. He's not touching you, no he's not. It's a just a father-daughter bonding time thing. Oh, you don't want to? Well would you rather do something else like being spanked until you're bleeding?

No right? So let him do this. And eventually it would become a normal thing. He comes home from tiring missions>>>>>you get fucked out of your life until the bed almost break. He comes home from dangerous enemies and now he's bleeding>>>>you have to treat his wounds while riding him.

Disobedience is not a thing he would accept, you've been taught the painful way. Not just spanking though! Whips, flogs, paddles and other things. Why would he even have these things? Kafka buys it for him. You thought that woman was on your side, but all these time of course she supports your father.

-1/10, staying with him would only get you nonconned everyday getting ass abuse everyday.. Also you might have a 10% chance of dying, increased with how much you make him angry.

Is this even a question

118 notes · View notes

melodic-haze · 2 days

Note

MORE SAD SUB ARLECCHINO. PLEASE. I NEED TO EAT. like shes in absolute TEARS SHES SO ME I LOVE HER PLEASE FEED ME MORE.

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: A lil petplay (it's like one paragraph)

☆ — NOTES: I lied about not writing for this week lol I needed a distraction. Anyway combined these two bc they worked very sillily together hope yall don't mind 🫶 also YES I DO REMEMBER YOU 🎀 anon w my first ask about Arle :333

Oh man oh man oh MANNN I wanna do soooo many things to her auhfhthgh

Much as I ADORE absolutely ruining this absolute UNIT of a woman, I also want to take care of her and dote on her so much to the point where she fucking cries from being treated so well UGHHHHH

I feel like there are times at night when she remembers what she had lost in order to get to where she is right now (the chance to have a life that went in a more conventional direction, along w ESPECIALLY Clervie) and while she has learned to deal with the feeling itself in solitary, whenever you see her look out the window she is no longer The Knave—this was Peruere, a lonely girl yearning for something from so long ago

Even when she seems like such a self-assured person, all that composure threatens to fall into pieces the moment you, the one she now holds so achingly dearly in her heart, go to hug her and tell her that she's no longer alone :( no matter how many times you tell her or no matter how many times this scene repeats, it will never stop affecting her so deeply :(((((

I do think that she actually does love to sit on your lap. Sure, maybe it's kinda unnecessary and even more than a little embarrassing, but it makes her feel cared for instead of the way around that she's used to 🫶

"Who would've known that the real reason why you like being on my lap was for this, though..?"

You curled your fingers up in order to emphasise your point, hitting that specific spot within her that forces out a strangled gasp as her thighs make a feeble attempt to close themselves off.. despite the fact that you were comfortably sat right in-between.

Arlecchino makes no effort to answer you properly right away with one of her ever-so-composed words of wisdom or whatever they may be—she opts to tuck her head into the crook of your neck as fat tears roll down her cheeks, your skin almost as wet as her drooling cunt that you just can't get enough of.

(Her makeup is smudged too, though by this point it doesn't really seem like she cares.)

Though with the way your other hand was wrapped around her, softly stroking her back as if soothing your crying mess, and the way her own arms were clinging onto you, you both knew there was so much more to this position beyond your carnal actions.

Something much more emotionally charged, something much more than she usually let herself handle.

And perhaps it might also be because you had been at this for a while; your little lapdog was desperate for a release every time.. only for you to take the chance away from her, as if faking your pet out of her sweet treat. You couldn't help but play with her a little, not when her reactions are often the sweetest—uncharacteristic whines making its way out of her lips as she pleads you to fuck her silly, to--

"--make me forget for a brief moment, please-- ah..!"

And as her loving partner, of course you'd want to comfort her in whatever way you can.

"I'll make you forget your very title, Peruere."

"Please--"

Especially if it means fucking her until all that longing is long gone.

Need her to go from crying about who she had to kill to crying about who she ended up gaining in the end (and crying about how you make her feel too :3)

Just softly tell her that you love her, sing her praises, take care of her, kiss the tears rolling down her face, give her everything that she hadn't been meant to have or hadn't even realised she could ever have as the 'monster' her past has created

I just really really wanna spoil her and make her cry by overwhelming her with so much affection she doesn't know what to do with as someone who doesn't often let such things dictate her actions dude idk 🤷‍♀️

117 notes · View notes

breadly-art · 3 days

Text

Speaking of Miguel, I thought I had no idea what was driving this man to keep moving forward. BUT:

Peter had Uncle Ben and Aunt May, who loved him, raised him well, and said something that Parker would remember all his life as a mantra. As for Miguel, he has no one. Literally no one who cares about him and whom he loves. Parents are pieces of shit, the biological father is literally the worst enemy, the brother is canonically dead, the second half-brother is another enemy, one girlfriend is gone forever, the other died because Miguel could not save her, he will never be able to see the third one again, as with their son, the daughter disappeared along with the whole alternate universe.... Good God, everything he touches is dying.

"With great power comes great responsibility," Peter has been telling himself all his life. "With great power comes great guilt," Miguel is sure. Because always, no matter how hard he tries to do something good, it is not enough, and he loses people close to him, and the world does not get better.

And if no one told him wise thoughts, like Uncle Ben did for Peter, if no one was ever around, if no one raised Miguel to be a good person... Then why is he trying so hard to be one? Why doesn't he try to give up everything, why doesn't he become a villain, why does he continue to help people? Where the hell is this inner core coming from?!

And when I think about it, I have only one idea: Spider-Man.

Miguel lives in the future, in year 2099, but at the beginning of the century, even before the catastrophe that wiped out half the world's population, there was an era of heroes. Spider-Man was one of them, the memory of him is alive even years later, and in the 1992 run, Miguel has Spider-Man comics. The ones he read with his brother Gabriel. This is partly why he will try to recreate these spider superpowers in his project at work at Alchemax.

Miguel remembers Spider-Man, he considers him one of the most outstanding heroes of the past, he literally CRIES when he accidentally encounters the real Spider-Man during his first time jumps. Miguel is a fan of his. For him, Spider-Man is an example of perhaps everything he is trying to achieve. He is a hero, a symbol of hope, which Miguel will never become.

But he keeps trying anyway.

#breadly posts #i wanna cry #He is so strong and needs a hug #miguel o'hara #atsv #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguelito #miguel #miguel 2099

141 notes · View notes

chaos-in-deepspace · 2 days

Text

LDS: "Watch This!" | Crack

So I dunno about you, but I'm one of those idiots who seldom drink water and sometimes forgets to eat for like two days. So when I stand up too fast it's like a moment of "Oh look the lights went out." So anyway that's the entire idea for this. Everyone experiences this, right? This is a normal human thing to experience when you stand up? Just standing up and almost (or actually) peacing out? Anyway, I never said my writing ideas were good but I they're there.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Fainting, Crack Fic, Reader can't take care of themselves, Zayne is stressed as your doctor, Rafayel might have a heart attack, Xavier just assumes you died, Rafayel does as well but he's dramatic on a good day

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

"Xavier, I promise you I am totally fine. I just got a little dizzy because of the heat." You tried assuring the blonde man as he looked around his apartment. He had already gotten a cold compress and thrown a glass of water in your hands for you to sip on. This was all because you guys had gone on a small jog together to prepare for the latest event in town and you had gotten a bit woozy. He had insisted on carrying you back to the apartments and here you where.

"Your face went as white as a sheet." He pointed out and you scoffed. Impossible. You don't even think it's possible to turn that color with how hot you had felt. If he said you looked like a cherry tomato or something from how red your face had gotten from the exertion it would've been more believable.

"Xavier, would an unwell person be able to do this?" You asked as you went to stand. As you jolted into a standing position you then remembered a key detail. The water he had given you was the first thing you had to drink today...and you don't think you had breakfast either.

The thought flashed through your mind as you felt the blood pounding in your ears and your vision darkening. Your only thought was 'Oh sugar, we're going down, down.' before you collapsed in on yourself.

Next thing you knew you were lying on the ground, a soft lap underneath you as Xavier fanned you off. You groaned as you came to, staring at Xavier's face. The man looked like he had just witnessed your death as he stared at you with wide eyes.

"Oh good morning." You managed to murmur out. Xavier's eyes narrowed as he glared down at you.

"You said you were fine then immediately fainted. I was about to call an ambulance." He scolded you, his tone harsh as he shifted your head on his lap. You noticed his free hand was holding a cell phone.

"Oh don't do that please. I'm okay."

"That's what you said last time."

"How about this...you get me something yummy to eat and I drink some water and if I'm still fainting after that then we can consider maybe going to see a doctor."

"Do you swear?"

"No..."

"We're going to the hospital." You then felt your world shift again as you were tossed unceremoniously over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You beat his back, begging him to let you down. Alas, once Xavier had his mind made, there was nothing you could do to stop him.

Zayne

"Have you already eaten today?" It was a simple enough question as you sat at the end of your check up with your favorite doctor. Your legs swinging over the edge as you put in some thought to that question. Zayne sat there, waiting patiently as he looked up and quirked an eyebrow in question.

"That is a brilliant question that I don't have an answer to." You might've eaten something today...or perhaps that was yesterday? The days sometimes blurred together in the most confusing ways.

"Have you drank any water?" Oh that was an easy question. No. The answer was no.

"You know the first ingredient in an energy drink is water."

"No..." Zayne said, pinching his eyebrows together in frustration. How you managed to still be alive is a miracle. Not even science could explain how you didn't just kneel over on any given day with how little care you put into your health.

"Zayne, I can promise you, I am totally healthy. Watch this." You stated before jumping up off the examination table. Immediately you felt the world shifting under you like the floor decided to become sentient and move like a damn treadmill.

Next thing you knew, you were waking up in the arms of the best cardiac surgeon at Akso hospital. You grumbled a bit as the light was bright. You looked up to see Zayne's not amused expression, in fact you might even call it a frustrated look.

"How long was I out?"

"30 seconds too long."

"Am I in trouble?"

"You're going to the cafeteria with me right now to get food and water. If you faint again I'm admitting you for the night and hooking you up to an IV."

"So you're saying fainting gets me a dinner date with the Doctor Zayne, and a possible sleepover?"

"Why are you like this?"

Rafayel

You made the realization that you could only entertain yourself by playing on your phone for so long. Rafayel had promised that as soon as he finished some light detail work on his latest painting, you could go out to town and grab some dinner.

That was well over six hours ago as you laid on his couch. You had already finished a book you had downloaded on your phone, scrolled through all your social media, checked out new memes, and caught up on videos of people you followed. As you looked over you saw Rafayel was still sitting on his stool, painting away.

You groaned, rolling yourself off the couch you had been glued to for those entire six hours. You plopped onto the floor, noting that he really did need to clean this studio up a bit. Normally Rafayel would at least be talking to you, but he had been so quiet and boring today.

"Raf...I'm dying of boredom here." You finally called out to him. The man in question looked over at you then looked outside. The sun had set a long time ago and he paused in what he was doing.

"I promise, I'm almost done." He said with a sigh and you groaned again. Then you remembered a little party trick you had up your sleeve. You'd admit you were actually hungry on account of being too busy to eat and then being promised food earlier, you opted not to have snacks. Not to mention water was gross for drinking so it all accumulated into the perfect way to get his attention.

"Rafayel, I'm fading away. I'm starving. I might die. I'm so weak." You called out from the floor and Rafayel finally turned in his stool to eye you up and down.

"I'm sure you are." His tone was sarcastic as he looked at you. He seemed to be entertained by your antics, "I can always order you some food. I also have snacks in the kitchen." He pointed out.

"That won't work, Raf. I'm too far gone. I mean...just watch this." You said, jumping up from your position on the ground. As soon as you were in a standing position, your body fought against you. Your ears were ringing uncomfortably and your vision went in and out. You could barely hear Rafayel calling your name in concern, followed by a him cursing as things clattered.

You collapsed, fainting just like you knew your dumbass would. You knew your body and knew the perfect conditions for going lights out, after all.

When you came to, you saw Rafayel almost in tears as he tried getting you to wake up. You murmured something that not even you could decipher as Rafayel's shoulders sagged in relief.

"I thought you actually died." He looked shaken up as you raised a hand to touch his cheek.

"Can we get food now like you promised?"

Rafayel was silent for a moment as he calmed his heart down and looked at you, "Did you faint just so I'd stop painting and take you to dinner?"

"Well did it work?"

"...Yes, but never do that again."

144 notes · View notes

zukosdualdao · 2 days

Text

a soft place to land

zutara month, day 16: injury recovery, @zutaramonth

summary: in the aftermath of an assasination attempt on katara, she finds herself safe in his bed, zuko looking after her from the bedside.

warnings: assasination/murder attempt, complicated thoughts about punitive judgment and executions, etc, excessive use of adverbs, lmao.

other notes: title taken from "a dream is a soft place to land" from waitress.

Katara’s eyes flicker open. She immediately sets to prop herself up on her elbows, struggling not to groan with fatigue and discomfort as she does.

The sheets underneath her are gold and silken, the room around her faintly familiar.

She’s in the Fire Nation. She’d been here as an Ambassador for the latest treaty revision. A servant… a man dressed as a servant, anyway, he’d served her tea in the private chambers kept for her here, and her throat had begun to swell, panic building as it did, chest burning as the door slammed ominously shut behind him. She remembers lifting her hand shakily, trying to guide her blood to keep the toxins from working through it, but she couldn’t tear it out of her without extracting her own blood, it was no use, she couldn’t think—her head met the floor, brow slick with sweat, she was going to die…

As she looks around in the darkness, it occurs to her exactly where she is now.

“Zuko?”

He’d come looking for her just in time.

The last thing she remembers before her awakening is the taste of something herbal and sickly sweet, being overcome with sick and the aftermath of bile, Zuko’s gentle hand cradling the back of her head, and then succumbing to the darkness.

“I’m right here,” he says quietly in the dark, and when she turns just slightly to her right, she can see shadows cast over his house face. He’s sitting in a chair by her bedside, folding in on himself and wringing his hands until he casts his worried gaze up to meet her eyes. “It’s okay. You’re really okay.” He sounds almost disbelieving. “How do you feel?”

It’s quite the inverse of the last time she was here when he was the one prone on the bed, marked by lightning, and she waited up all night for him to wake again, too wired to sleep, needing to keep a weathered eye on his wound.

“Not amazing,” she manages a bout of shaky laughter. “But I’m alive, so that’s something. How did you know what to… ?”

Zuko was alone when he arrived and fed to her what must have been the antidote, though she thinks she remembers the patter of other footsteps arriving after the fact, possibly a sea of medics.

At this, Zuko leans back in his chair a little, rubbing an embarrassed hand at the back of his head. “Oh—my mother learned about plants and things from her mother.” Zuko’s mouth tilts into a frown. “I think she was an herbalist? I’m not sure.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t know what they’d used but—we keep something stocked here. It’s not a cure-all, but…” Shrugging again, he sighs. “Thank Agni it worked.”

“Forget Agni,” she murmurs. “Thank you.” Something that might have been panic if not for her weariness swells in her chest suddenly. “The man… ?”

Even through the darkness and the haze she still finds her mind in, she catches the way his pupils dilate, the way his posture stiffens. She’s seen him angry like this before. Protective-angry. She imagines his fingers are probably curling hard against the edge of his chair as he grips it, but looking down to check seems difficult and unnecessary. “Hired assassin.”

“Oh.” It’s sort of strange to think she’s an important enough figure that someone would try to assassinate her, that her death wouldn’t be a simple murder but rather to make some political statement or another. “That’s new. For me, anyway.”

Zuko’s had a few attempts on his own life in the past year, as she recalls. Most of them she read about through letters after the fact—she was here for the last one, though, and thank the spirits for that. Stab wounds are simple enough to heal with her bending—if they don’t bleed out first, which can happen more quickly than one might expect. Needless to say, Katara’s glad she was around.

Zuko says the next like an oath. “The assassin is being dealt with.” With a confusing mix of shame, fear, and relief, she wonders how. Zuko’s not the type to execute, certainly not without trial, which is how things would have been done in the Fire Nation in days past. Mostly, she’s relieved for that, but still, she finds herself wondering whether she’ll regret being such a ready proponent of the right to trial and imprisonment over execution in the weeks to come. There is a swallow of fear in her throat, but it might wisp away once this isn’t all so fresh.

But perhaps that’s something to think on later.

“So are his benefactors,” Zuko spits out the word like it’s full of poison itself. “I’ve written to your father and Sokka and to Aang,” he adds. Katara’s stomach clenches unpleasantly in a way she suspects only has a little to do with the day’s events. Zuko doesn’t know she and Aang haven’t spoken in months, that they’re no longer together. “Spirits, Katara, I’m so sorry.”

Katara frowns as she leans back against the pillows. “What for? You didn’t poison me.”

“It was done on my watch, in my palace, because some group of fucking noblemen I’ve been trying to appease are—I keep trying and failing to make things better, and instead…”

“Zuko,” she glares at him in the hopes that it will quiet his self-recrimination. It does, quite efficiently, and she smiles. “Not everything gets to be your fault. Will you just accept my thanks for saving me instead?”

At this, she yawns, and she watches as his expression softens in the dim light of his bedroom.

Zuko rolls his eyes then, but there’s a faint smile playing on his lips, too, and she’s glad to feel the mood lighten again, though she can feel weariness starting to take her once more.

“That’s what you and I do,” he allows quietly after a moment, his (pretty, she thinks hazily, so pretty) amber eyes shining with the truth of what he’s saying. “We save each other. Get some more rest, Katara.”

Still a little awake, but with her eyes closed, she asks drowsily, not even sure she manages the words, “Will you be here when I wake up?”

Zuko’s answer is quiet but certain. “Of course I will.”

Katara hums as she falls back into the allure of sleep, safe with the knowledge Zuko is watching over her.

#zutaramonth2024 #zutara #zuko x katara #zutara month #katara x zuko #atla #my fic #day 16: injury recovery.#a soft place to land #trigger: murder.#trigger: assasination.#bloodbending

70 notes · View notes

jq37 · 3 days

Note

I'm like genuinely interested as someone who thinks a lot about the craft of critique and fandoms the ways in which the current Rat Grinders discourse shows why you can't really apply the same lens you use to critique a pre written story vs an improvised actual play show by a bunch of comedians who are first and foremost concerned with committing to the bit. Like Porter's a great example of this, he went from a nothingburher to secretly evil with a whole lore and backstory!

In the same vein the Rat Grinders probably could have turned out to be not as culpable in all of this had the Bad Kids really tried to bond with them, but instead they focused on other things with the way downtime was structured! And because they did that they could pass the Last Stand, and are safe from Porter's rage thing! Like legitimately I really liked the mechanics of downtime this season, it just also came at the cost of developing the Rat Grinders!

(Though to be entirely fair, the BKs did try to engage with Oisin, Ivy, and Ruben and then Oisin launched the house, Ivy was racist, and Ruben still attacked Wanda so)

I think it's really fascinating from a storytelling/game design perspective! The downside is the Discourse is so tiring

Yeah it's interesting. I covered some of this in other asks so I'm gonna hit on the stuff I haven't yet.

If you're telling a story that is based partially on user input, it's not entirely fair to be like, "This subplot was underdeveloped" if the reason for that was that the players didn't make choices to facilitate that development. When DM's push hard for the players to care about things they're not interested in, they get hit with railroading accusations.

And even outside of the player choices, there are also the rolls. A BIG part of D&D is the randomness of the dice. Even if the players care about something, it doesn't mean they'll get it. I'll mention again that Kristen tried to roll Insight on Buddy before the final fight and got a Nat 1. What is she supposed to do? Roll again until she gets a good read on him? That's not how that works. If the dice aren't cooperating, there's not much you can do. And you can make sure your big story beats don't rely on dice but at the end of the day they *will* shape your story in ways you can't control.

Another key thing about the medium, as you pointed out, is things can change on the fly. The confluence of high rolls and serious interest can change things that were behind the screen canon in an instant. In Burrow's End, Aabria planned for Bennet to have a family but as soon as Tula/Brennan expressed interest in romancing him, she Thanos snapped that family out of existence. I don't know how much Brennan wanted the Rat Grinders to be recruitable but even if he'd planned them all to just be foils and evil and nothing else, I can totally see him flipping one if they'd really wanted to and it would have made for a good story beat.

Anyway, yeah! Interesting stuff to think about. Even though D20 often feels like a TV show, it's important to remember that it's a different beast in many ways.

#i do wonder how much brennan wanted the rat grinders to just be people for them to have fun hating #bc if he wanted kristen to clock s/t in buddy he easily could have given her advantage #or let her use her passive wisdom #there's a roll this season where he let her roll like 4 times for the same thing #and then adaine and fig ALSO got to roll #but this it was like nat 1 moving on #that plus the fact that none of their investigations have turned up anything very sympathetic doesn't really scream 'TRY TO REDEEM THEM'#asks #a-salty-alto #fantasy high #d20 #dimension 20 #and yeahhh that's why I don't engage in discourse #i just answer asks #I pay taxes I can't be arguing w/ ppl online about fictional teenagers

68 notes · View notes

penkura · 3 days

Note

Hey there my lovely penguin lover,

I hope you will like my idea. I would love to see a scenario where penguin has a fever or something like that and y/n takes care of him. And maybe he has a fever dream and is confessing his feelings for y/n and because he is delulu in this moment maybe he thinks its a dream and kiss her or something like that and the next day he doesnt remember anything anymore. Y/n is flustered af and shachi (maybe the Rest of the crew) is teasing him because they knew that he might done something.

Does this make any sense? Anyway i hope you will like this idea. Many love to you and twke care of yourself.

Omggg hiiii fellow Penguin lover, your fics make me so happy to see them omg.

I loved this request sm, but I had to break it into two parts! I didn't want it to be too long and wanted to make sure I hit everything, but here's part one! I'll have part two posted soon and tag you in it of course!! :)

Normally you wouldn’t mind being left behind while the rest of your crew took off to visit and scope out the most recent island you’ve surfaced it, your captain Law giving you all a reprieve to have a small break and stretch your legs. You’d go into town with Ikkaku, or Shachi and Penguin, sometimes Bepo, and start to find where you could restock anything that was needed, before reporting to Law and him letting you go do as you pleased. Ikkaku was likely to drag you into all the stores to find new clothes and the like, Penguin would always look out for a bookstore to take you to, and Shachi and Bepo would find a place for all of you to have a meal together before you returned to the Polar Tang. That’s under normal circumstances though.

Today, you’d rather be out and in the sun, but you’ve been enlisted to take care of the bedridden Penguin. He’d suddenly come down with a fever the day before, your captain believing it to be stress, it didn’t seem to be viral or anything like that. Penguin had likely overworked himself, something he’d become prone to doing lately for some reason, you’ve even told him to relax numerous times, somethings could wait until a bit later to be done, but he’d quickly brush you off with a smile and run off to whatever was next.

“What a sorry state you’ve gotten yourself into, Penguin,” you hum while watching him, a damp washcloth covering from his forehead down over his eyes while he tried to breathe easily, “I told you all of that stuff could wait, or I could’ve helped you…”

Penguin has been out of it for hours now. He’s woken up a few times, almost in delusion from his fever, once thinking he was in the ocean outside the submarine and another time believing there were aliens hiding in the ship. Law tried to keep him asleep longer with a light sedative, that was before the alien dream that woke him in complete terror. He only calmed down enough to go back to bed when you started talking to him, promising him everything was fine, and he let you walk him back to his bed. Law requested you stay behind today, it seemed like Penguin was only going to stay calm with you around, but he’d send Shachi or Ikkaku back later to give you a break.

Now, he’s been completely calm and sleeping the last couple of hours, it makes you happy to see him finally relaxing. You do wonder how on earth it was only you who could calm him down, not even Shachi was able to convince him to lay back down after the second fever dream. Your red-haired friend snickered a bit, saying something along the lines of “as if you don’t know”, but you really don’t, you’re still confused by it. Ikkaku had wished you good luck when she left, a smile on her face that told her she was thinking about your crush on Penguin, and how you now had alone time with him, even though he’s sick in bed.

You flip through a magazine Ikkaku let you borrow for a few minutes, before you hear Penguin start to stir, moving to take the washcloth of his face before you move to stop it.

“Hey, wait, you still need that, Penguin,” grabbing his hand to stop him, you realize the washcloth isn’t cool anymore, he must be warming up again, “Let me get this wet again, lay back down.”

Penguin barely recognizes that its you taking care of him, his fever is making everything foggy in his head, its like he’s not really there. But he believes he must be dreaming again, there’s no way you, who he’s been absolutely enthralled and in love with the last three years, was taking care of him. Its another fever dream, right? Right, it must be Ikkaku taking care of him this time, the fever is just making him think it’s you. He sits up and tries to focus on your back, still convinced it’s just Ikkaku taking care of him, and just starts talking.

“Hey…Ikka…you think she’ll…hate me?”

“What’re you talking about? Who would hate you?”

“[Y/N]…will she hate me?”

Once you have the washcloth wet again, you bring it over to Penguin and start pressing it against his forehead, tilting your head in confusion in the process.

“Why would I—she hate you?”

“Cause I…I love her so much…but haven’t told her…”

Stopping, your face feels flush, and your heart picks up, not having expected that from Penguin. Ikkaku has never told you that Penguin has feelings for you, let alone that he’s in love with you. She’s never giving you even a hint that he might like you back, even with you constantly swooning over him secretly. She seemed to have a smile every time you did, always telling you to just go down the hall and tell him, it had been four years for heaven’s sake, its about time some kind of romance happened on this submarine!

“I…what?”

“You’re a girl…how do I tell her?”

At least he can’t tell that it’s actually you he’s talking to, the fever is really doing its work on him. He really thinks he’s talking to Ikkaku, you wonder how many times they’ve gone back and forth about this, if he’s asking about it now.

“Just,” you take a deep breath and try to make him lay down, but he’s still much stronger than you even bedridden with a high fever, he doesn’t budge, “Just tell her, Penguin…I’m sure it’ll go well.”

“But how?”

“I don’t know!” Penguin relents just a bit and leans back a little when you push him, but he still stares you with those half-lidded blue eyes, its so hard for him to make out that it’s you still. “Just…tell her! Go up to her and say, ‘I love you’ and see what happens!”

He quiets, looking like he might be thinking even though he really should be laying down, before nodding and speaking again, like he’s practicing and has done so with Ikkaku multiple times. He has, you just don’t know right now, Ikkaku tells you this later down the line when you bring this day up to her.

“Okay…[Y/N]…?”

“Y-Yeah, Penguin?” you swallow, still wondering if this is actually happening or if you’re having a fever dream now. It can’t be real; it just can’t be. There’s no way Penguin loves you back, just no way.

“I…” His fever is hitting him again, he really should be laying down, but he doesn’t realize he’s doing this, “I…love you, [Y/N].”

You think he’s passing out when he starts to lean towards you but realize he’s not when he quickly kisses you, being actually passing out and his forehead hits your shoulder. He’s still burning up, from the fever or embarrassment you’re not sure, but now that he’s back asleep, you’re able to push him back to laying down again. Placing the washcloth back on his forehead, you don’t stay in the room and instead leave, quietly closing the door behind you while your face burns out of your own embarrassment and you finally take a real breath again.

That didn’t just happen. That DIDN’T just happen. He’s delusional because of the fever, right. Of course he is, he thought we were being invaded earlier. He didn’t know what he was doing.

“Hey, [Y/N], you go—”

You scream when Shachi places a hand on your shoulder and tries to ask what’s going on, making him scream too because you scared him just as badly as he scared you.

“What’d you scream for?!”

“You scared me!!”

“Well why were you so lost in your head?!”

“Because--!” You cut yourself off because you don’t really want to tell Shachi what happened, even when he gives you a concerned look before you start running towards your and Ikkaku’s room. “Nothing happened! I’m going to my room!!”

Shachi tries to stop you, but you’re gone too quickly. Now he’s starting to think you have a fever that’s making you crazy too, before he goes into the room Penguin’s been resting in and hears him mumbling something in his sleep about you. Most of the crew knows about Penguin’s crush on you, making Shachi wonder if his best friend’s fever induced state made him do something he shouldn’t have, or wasn’t really ready to.

“What the hell did you do, Pen?”

#one piece x reader #reader insert #penguin x reader #op penguin x reader #fem!reader

96 notes · View notes

itsgrimeytime · 1 day

Text

he's such a pretty liar || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz @deadgirlrin

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Dialogue Prompts: 8 + 2

Inspiration: my boy by Billie Eilish

Summary: You and Rick had gotten along at some point, at the farm and prison. You were friends even. Until the Governor killed Hershel, which you believed to be perfectly preventable. Because of his inaction then, you'd gotten a bitter taste in your mouth at the thought of him and eventually, he started to reciprocate the behavior. But as time passes, and you experience more and more with him, is it really hate that you feel?

TWs: enemies to lovers (like fr though), yelling, mentions of death (Shane, Lori, Beth, and Hershel), mention of the Claimers scene, cursing, anger, nosebleed, bruising, love confessions, injuries, blood, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: This is based on Carl being mad at Rick after the prison. Rick do be stressed out, and he do be saying some terrible stuff, but like so are you. This gif is so 🫣💞🤭💞🤪. Anyway, enjoy :))) ]]

You weren't a bad person, and in that regard, you wouldn't say Rick was either. Honestly, you respected him as a leader -you just didn't agree with all his choices. That's where it all started, after all, isn't it?

You'd seen what a wrong choice could do, you'd watched Hershel die right in front of your eyes. You'd seen it all.

And, sure, maybe you were grieving a little but you still largely disagreed with Rick's actions on the matter. It was preventable.

It started there, and only really got worse. It was like once you identified one flaw, suddenly you were second-guessing his every move. The two of you couldn't be in a room without arguing, couldn't be put on shifts together, nothing. Daryl, for one, wouldn't let you be alone together at all. And if it wasn't him, it was someone else.

"Rick, seriously," you spoke once, almost sternly, "-that can't be your decision."

"Why?" he responded -pointed and short, "-Ya got a better idea? Go right fuckin' ahead."

You knew that since the prison, Rick had been strung thin. You knew that he had been harder on himself than you could ever be about Hershel. But, you still were angry. Sometimes, sometimes it felt like maybe he was just a target for everything that you'd been through. And you were trying to change your behavior, change your ways.

You'd known him for so long, and you were going to be stuck with him. The group, even though the two of you weren't on the best terms, was like family to you.

And then, it started getting personal.

This argument stemmed from something small, trivial, you can't even remember it now. Maybe a decision on a run? You can't-

"Ya act like ya ain't made mistakes of your own," he added, "-all high and damn mighty-"

"When did I say that?" You interrupted, more cold than anything, "-You're putting words in my mouth, Grimes."

"-Because I seem to remember ya tellin' me about your family," he continued, not even pausing to listen to you.

You stilled in place.

"Rick," you warned (voice slightly shaking), "-don't... don't go there."

Your family. At the beginning of all this, you'd froze -scared. Watched one of them get bitten, and then everyone just followed after -not willing to grieve. You regretted not being quicker, not being more aware, but you weren't used to it. You weren't-

"Ya fucked up," Rick continued, as if he wasn't bringing up what he was, "-We all do, why do you-"

"No, no," you shook your head, voice shaking, "-Rick, that is not fair. You can't bring up my family-"

You had hated yourself for that, hated yourself. Still did. You would never forgive yourself for not saving them, even though you really didn't have an idea how to then, you should have-

God, he was bringing this up? Really?

"-over a goddamn run strategy."

"Well, you pick apart every damn thing I do," he retorted, "-'Thought I'd do the same for once."

"Oh, fuck you, Rick," you seethed, tears burning the backs of your eyes, "-you want me to poke at your wounds? Talk about who you could've saved?"

He pursed his lips, and you saw something flash through his eyes (they were trailing the now shake of your hands) that looked a little like regret. Like maybe he was understanding what he said. You felt like your skin was on fire.

"Do you want me to start from the beginning?" You tsked, a fire burning in your chest, "-Shane? Or maybe Lori? Beth? Hershel-"

"Stop," he stated, quieter than before.

"-Why, Rick?" you hissed, and you felt the tears now, "-Is this not what we're talking about? Oh, do you not want me to bring that up? Over a run?"

"I get it," he spoke, softer, and something in you sharpened, "-I get it, Y/N."

"Do you?" you responded, frustrated and just... angry, "-Do you, Rick?"

"I shouldn't 'ave-"

"Can it," you interrupted -short, "-Let's just get the fucking supplies and go."

Rick frowned, blue eyes far more emotive (all you could see was regret and pity), "Y/N, I didn't-"

"You didn't what?" You countered, and your voice was cracking, "-You didn't mean to bring up the fact that I watched my family die, right in front of me? Do you think that I don't hate myself every day for not doing anything then?"

Rick didn't say a word.

"-Hate to break it to you, sheriff, but I fucking do."

"Y/N..." he trailed off, blue eyes much calmer, the rage from before dissipating out of his voice.

"No, just-" you cleared your throat, wiping mindlessly at your frustratingly red eyes, "-Let's get this shit done and leave."

From then on, it had been much deeper.

You couldn't stand him, you hadn't been alone with him since. He made your skin crawl and your mind flare up in anger, and sometimes, just sometimes, it would shake your respect for him. Because you did have some, you probably wouldn't even be here, if you didn't.

The funny thing about it all was that you were close to Carl, very close to him. At the prison, after Lori's death, you'd nearly been inseparable. It was kind of like a parent relationship, but at the same time a little like a friend. It made you want to reconcile sometimes, but all you and Rick did was clash.

So much that you started to wonder what a normal conversation was like with him.

And then, you had the run-in with the Claimers.

God, what they'd threatened to do to Carl? You personally would've snapped their spine yourself if you had the chance. But what Rick had done? You couldn't imagine it yourself.

But you knew that he did what he had to. And some part of you wanted to tell him that, despite... despite all of your problems, you knew he needed it.

It was late that night when you decided to talk to him. It was just the two of you awake. You, on purpose, and you just knew Rick would be. Doing that was probably still rattling through his skull, he probably couldn't even close his eyes without-

Your steps were slow and careful, trying not to startle him -he just seemed to be staring. Endlessly staring, and just pacing. Despite it all, you felt something in your chest swirl with worry.

"Rick?" you spoke, gently. Even still, you saw his whole body tense up.

"Please," he muttered, voice low and gravelly -blue eyes heavy on you, "-I don't need your shit right now. I kno' 'at I did somethin' bad, really damn bad. But I just can't deal wit' ya-"

"No, Rick," you interrupted, "-that's not why I'm... That's not what I want to say."

"What do ya want to say, then?"

"You made the right decision," you responded, tone sturdy and unmoving, "-you... you did what you had to."

Rick stilled, something flickering through his face -a flutter of emotions.

"I know, we aren't on the best terms, but-" you rolled your lip around your teeth, "-you're not a monster, Rick."

The silence was loud then, as his blue eyes skimmed over you -carefully. Maybe like he was seeing a new you, or maybe an old one he'd forgotten about. One you'd forgotten about.

"Trust me, I know it feels like it," you added (mind flashing with what you'd done over the years), "-but you did what you had to. You saved your son, and that's all that matters."

He didn't say anything for a moment, trying to process your words. And if you really looked, you might've seen his eyes fogging up a little and the slight drop of tension in his shoulders. A little like he was waiting for someone to tell him that.

And then, he replied, "Thank ya."

You pursed your lips a moment, fidgeting with your hands. You weren't sure what else to say. This was all so new. With a succinct nod, you moved to spin on your heel and lay down for the night.

"Wait," he called, and you turned back to him -eyes inquisitive.

There was a beat.

"-'At day, on the run," he continued, slow and regretful, "-I'm... I'm sorry. I never should 'ave said somethin' like 'at. I never should 'ave brought it up at all. 'Wasn't right of me to."

"Thanks, Rick," you responded, brief but genuine, grateful. You could tell he understood.

Before you could fully turn around though, he added -softer, with something you couldn't quite name, "Goodnight, Y/N."

There was a pleasant hum in your mind at the way he said your name, but you shoved it away. You'd locked all of that far away, a long time ago.

"Night, Grimes," you chimed back, lighter in tone.

He smiled at you then, and something in you gleamed a little from it. Not that you would ever say it out loud.

There was something different after that, a sort of trust or respect. Or maybe something else, you didn't really know. It was there, though.

When you found Alexandria, things shifted a little. Mostly because it was your group against another one, you and Rick were profoundly on the same side. That being said, you still clashed. You weren't sure if it was just the authority of it all, or what? (It might've had a little to do with a blonde wife that he was spending some time with, but you'd never say that out loud.)

"You're seriously not going to let me lead the run?"

"I got Daryl on it," he responded, eyes solely sat on you.

"He's been on all the runs lately," you continued, trying to explain your case, "-Shouldn't this shit be evenly distributed? Have you even talked to Daryl about what he wants? Or are you just assigning us like it's some dictatorship-"

"'Course I damn talked to 'im," he snapped back, and you could see something tired in his eyes, "-everybody gets a say in what 'ey're doin', ya know 'at."

"Except for me," you contradicted, "-you keep giving me the same fucking chores, when I'm useful in other places-"

And he was, he kept you in Alexandria -washing clothes, making dinner, keeping an eye on the people. He made you some kind of mediator between Deanna's people and your own. But you were useful, you shouldn't be locked inside like you couldn't handle yourself. Because you could, and you had before.

"-You know, I scavenged for months before I met you, right? I was alone, and I figured it out."

"I know 'at," he confirmed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You could nearly see the stress radiating off him, but you couldn't stop, not then.

"So, so what-" you asked, "-you don't trust me? You don't think I can do it?"

Rick sighed, big and loud -fully facing you, "It ain't 'at, Y/N. I know ya can handle yourself, I've seen it."

"Then, what is the problem, Grimes? I don't get it-"

"Just take the goddamn next run," he groaned, something in his tone broken (and something a little like guilt curled up in your stomach), "-I'll tell Daryl he's switchin'."

You stopped in place, words faltering off your lips. Your will and the fire in your gut extinguished, you suddenly felt very out of place, and a little like the bad guy. You knew you weren't though, but he just looked so tired-

"Okay," you finally responded, a little dumbfounded, "-thanks."

He nodded in your direction and didn't say a word. You took it as a motion to move along, so you did.

Apparently, he might've had a good reason to worry.

It wasn't that first run, or even the second or third, it was the fourth after that conversation that you were stupid. Well, it really wasn't your fault. You thought someone had your back, and they didn't; so, one of the walkers had clawed pretty deep into your arm.

It was bleeding a lot (maybe too much) and probably needed stitches, but you didn't worry about it. Denise could handle it, and you, as a community, were pretty good on medical supplies at this point.

What you didn't expect, was after Denise patched you up for one Rick Grimes to be on your ass.

You were still sitting in her doctor's space (you had no idea what to call it) then, silently trailing your fingers over the bandaging. You could already see some of the blood through the white of it. It made you a little nervous, you won't lie.

And then, the door swung open.

At first, you nearly grabbed for the knife you hid on you -alarmed, assuming it was someone coming to hurt you. Instead, you were met with one Rick Grimes -his face was all scrunched up in that way he always got when he was frustrated.

If there was one thing you could recognize, it was that.

"Rick?" you questioned -carefully, a little shocked by him bursting into the room. Did you do something to him recently?

"'At's why ya can't go on fuckin' runs," he grumbled out -suddenly so angry, it made your head spin.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What?"

"You're always makin' damn bad decisions," he continued, and something in you bristled. Your defenses were up in an instant.

"What the fuck, Rick?" you countered, "-You don't even know what happened, how the hell do you know it's on me?"

"You're injured," he clarified, a little like he was talking to himself, "-ya made a stupid mistake-"

"How the hell do you know that?" you hissed, "-Do you just think everything that goes wrong has to be my fucking fault, Grimes?"

"-and you're damn hurt."

There was something there in his tone, something different. Your frustration twisted into a little bit of curiosity. What was that?

"I can’t leave ya alone for one second without ya hurting yourself, can I?" He started up again, and it was there again, angry but also... but also-

Your eyes swam over him, and you recognized it then, worry. He was worried about you, you felt something in you stall. It was so different from what you knew from him-

"I mean," you responded, a little awkwardly -unsure (since when did he care so much?), "-I’m fine so it’s okay-"

"No, it’s not okay," he suddenly shot his eyes to you, blue eyes heavy with worry (so much, it shot to your core), "-Not when I feel like I’m goin' to go batshit fuckin' crazy, thinkin' you’ve hurt yourself."

It was silent for a moment, as your mind processed the words. Skimming along his face, as he seemed to do the same -frustration dissipating along his features.

That... That was new.

"It's just some scratches," you spoke -a little lost, you weren't sure exactly what to say. He cared about you that much? Thought about you that much?

Rick's eyes darted to the bandages, which were just about as dark as before -which was just a little, the stitches seemed to stop it mostly. Something in him relaxed, you could tell in his shoulders -the drop of the tension. You couldn't believe that was because of you. When-

"Ya had to get stitches, yeah?" He spoke, suddenly and a bit awkwardly too (like he wasn't sure what to do).

"I did," you confirmed, just looking and something in you felt like you needed to tell him more, so you did, "-Uh, five in one, and three in the other."

He pursed his lips (like he was debating something), before shattering out a breath, "Can I see it?"

"It's already wrapped up," you responded, blankly -you were running a little on autopilot, "-She already-"

"Denise can rewrap it," he offered, stepping closer. Something in your stomach stirred.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "You want to waste medical supplies, just so you can see my wound?"

Rick's lips pressed into a thin line, something in him firing back up, "I'll replace the supplies my damn self, if I 'ave to, just let me see."

You couldn't really say anything, it felt like all the words had washed from your head. Like you couldn't speak if your life was on the line.

He faltered a second, sighing, and his eyes shifted to something softer (a little like pleading), "I... I need to see if ya are alright."

You felt like you were stone -frozen.

"Please."

Your heart lept into your throat (and you let your mind drift somewhere you'd never let it before), "Yeah, okay."

That started the shift.

And he started checking over you after every run, you thought it would've been annoying but... you got used to it. And something in you liked helping him calm down, although you'd never say it out loud.

Things were a little different. You clashed but it wasn't as fiery anymore. Because you knew he cared about you, and somewhere you could acknowledge you cared about him. (More than you'd ever admit.)

This time it wasn't even Rick you were arguing with. It was someone originally from Alexandria. You couldn't even remember their name, but they'd said something about you and you let it slide. But then, they kept going.

"You made a shit call," the guy remarked, sauntering up to your side.

You were a little startled, but you stayed composed, "What are you talking about?"

"We could've gotten more supplies," he continued, "-that gun store was right there, and you called the whole fucking thing off."

You soured -something steeling in your gut, "You mean the one that was swarmed? Hate to break it to you, but we were outnumbered."

"We could've done it," he added -persistent, something frustrated in his tone, "-we had the manpower."

"Are you serious?" you laughed a little incredulously, "-There were three of us, and about 30, 40 maybe, walkers. That is-"

"Maybe you couldn't have done it," he tsked, lips falling in a flat line.

You flexed your jaw, trying to stay composed, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're a sorry fucking excuse for a lead," he gritted through his teeth, "-You don't know shit about-"

"Next time, just go right ahead and do it yourself then," you shot back but stayed still in your space (composed, composed, composed), "-and I don't know about you, but I value life more than something we already fucking have-"

"It's ammunition," he seethed, stepping much closer to you -something sparking behind his eyes, "-Don't know if you fucking know this, but it's pretty damn important to survival-"

"No," you disagreed, voice calm and collected, "-it's not. You don't need to walk into a situation that you can't handle-"

Without warning, a fist flew at your face -right at the nose.

"Shit," you hissed, and you felt the thrum of pain under your skin and could almost immediately taste the coppery taste of blood, "-What the fuck? Why did you-"

"What the hell is goin' on 'ere?"

It was Rick, and his tone was something you'd only heard a few times -blue eyes flickering over you. They held onto your, now bleeding, nose which you were now trying to soothe, and something in his jaw tightened.

The guy was the first one to speak, mostly because you were trying to stop the bleeding. Luckily, Maggie rushed up to your side with paper towels -doing her best to help too.

"They made a mistake on the run-"

Rick didn't let him get far, "So, you punched 'em in the damn face?"

"Well," the guy fell quieter, "-we were arguing-"

Maggie snapped back, shifting her focus for a moment, "You were arguin'."

"No-"

"They were just trying to talk some sense into ya," she continued, tone cold, "-You were the one who took it personally-"

Rick put a hand on her shoulder, eyes flickering toward you -something swimming through them that you recognized from a different day, and Maggie took the notion to stop talking. She turned back to you, and gently guided you to tilt your head forward. On instinct, you pinched your nostrils shut -breathing out of your mouth.

"Even if it was a fuckin' argument," Rick tsked, something cold in his tone, "-there's no damn reason to do 'at. They weren't gettin' violent with ya-"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I kno' 'em," he retorted, "-an' if 'ey got their hands on ya, you wouldn't be standin' in front of me."

You laughed a little and could feel his eyes shoot to you for a second. It made something in your chest flutter, something you were trying desperately to ignore.

"We need to get ya some ice," Maggie spoke, mostly to herself, "-It's already bruisin' up pretty bad."

"'S leave 'is for another day," Rick seemed to exit the conversation with the man, tone unshakable, "-but if I 'ear anythin' else from ya, 'ere's gonna be a problem. Ya got 'at?"

You could almost visually see the way Rick shifted as he made his way over to you. Composure slipping into something more worried, eyebrows furrowing and eyes shining in an entirely different way. Like he couldn't help it, his hands frantically found themselves along your shoulders. It made your skin buzz a little, and made you feel a little woozy. Well, you guessed there could be more than one reason for that.

On that note, you stumbled in place a little, and Rick's hands immediately slid to your sides -stabilizing you. Your heart skipped a beat, stupid fucking handsome men with big fucking hands.

"'Ey, can ya bring a chair over 'ere, please?"

Before you could so much as blink, he was pushing you into it -gently, mind you. Ever-so-gently. And almost on instinct, he fell onto one knee in front of you, trying to hold your eye contact with your head slightly forward, you guessed. His eyes were the same as that day, but there was something else there too, something fuzzier.

"Maggie, ya go get the ice," he turned to her, "-I'll stay with 'em."

She seemed to scamper off because you could tell it was just the two of you. Maybe he'd warded off everyone else, Rick had this... aura to him when he wanted to -a dangerous one. Sometimes you thought it was to balance out his natural nature as a leader.

Quietly, you heard Rick tear off another paper towel and gently wipe at your mouth (where you imagined blood was staining at this point). It was strangely intimate, as you just skimmed over his face.

He was entirely focused on the task, so your eyes roamed along the creases along his face, the blue of his eyes, the sharp line of his nose, the little curls that peeked behind his ears-

You blinked, clearing your thoughts. He was always handsome, you knew that.

"What even is that dick's name?" you questioned, testing to see if your nose had stopped bleeding as much. It had.

Rick smiled a little, looking up at your eyes from where he was focused before (he seemed to be done), "I 'ave no fuckin' clue."

You laughed at that, and if you were honest with yourself thought you saw something shoot through his eyes. Something warm. You ignored it.

"'S hurt?" he spoke, softer.

You responded, simply, "I've had worse."

Rick smiled a little at that, but fell into something more serious, "So, yeah?"

"Like a bitch," you admitted, and he let out a low sort of chuckle.

It made something in you relax, something warm lighting up in your chest. You let yourself feel it this time, just once.

"Just so ya know," he interrupted your thought process, "-'at ain't happenin' again."

You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows -warmth dissipating, "Are you- Are you chastising me right now?"

"No," he quickly responded, but didn't explain further, "-'M just tellin' ya I ain't lettin' it happen again."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Rick paused a second, ripping another paper towel off and dabbing at your nose. It was probably still bleeding a little bit.

You just watched him, waiting for an explanation. Even though, you weren't entirely sure he was going to give you one.

"Anyone touches ya, says anythin' to ya, so much as looks at ya the wrong way-" he listed, tone deadly serious (it shook through your skull), "-ya come get me, and I’ll set 'em straight. Understand?"

Your mouth moved before you could stop it, "What?"

"I'll handle it," he repeated, pulling away the paper towel and locking eyes with yours, "-It ain't happenin' again."

"Rick," you laughed -incredulously, and maybe a little defensive, "-I don't need a fucking guard dog. I can handle myself."

"'Didn’t say 'at," he hummed, carefully, eyes skimming along your face -a little like he was in wonder (it made your head spin a second), "-'S for me, not ya."

"How does that-"

"If 'ey're fuckin' with ya, 'ey're fuckin' with me," he interrupted, eyes so solid that you couldn't really look away, "-you can handle it how ya want, but Imma 'ave some choice words of my own. So, send 'em my way too."

The words faltered in your throat, something swirling around your heart. He was just so-

The coppery taste again.

You shriveled up your nose in disgust, and Rick laughed at it (something gleaming in his eye), as you reacted -spitting the taste out into the dirt.

"Yeah, keep laughing, Grimes," you tsked, but there was no bite, not really. Not like there used to be, "-I'll beat the shit out of you."

"'Ere's no doubt in my mind," he retorted back, smiling in a way that crinkled at the eyes. You thought for a spare second it was a beautiful one, that maybe he was beautiful.

After that day, you'd say that everything was a little confusing.

These feelings towards Rick were far from new, very far. They'd always kind of been in the very back of your mind. Part of you was actually pretty sure that hating him had in some way distanced you from what you felt otherwise. Now, that is to say, you had definitely hated him at one point. That just didn't mean that it erased the... other thing.

You and Rick were off-kilter. Or at least you were. You guessed you couldn't say anything about him, he was very much a mystery to you at this point.

He just kept doing things. Like the scratch and nosebleed. And every time he'd smile at you a bit warmer, say something you couldn't really avoid. Not anymore. (And you weren't sure you wanted to avoid, honestly.)

And he'd looked at you a lot more, searched you out (when before you used to shun each other, avoid each other), and just smiled at you sometimes for no reason. The thing was you didn't mind it. You wanted him to. Because you... because it was all different.

You were confused, but you weren't going to be the one to encroach on it. It all felt so surreal, that one day something would happen and you'd just snap right back into place -just like before. To be fair, you still argued. But, it was moreso bickering now. And even if it wasn't, before you could get as heated as you used to, you compromised -easily.

You slotted together perfectly and bounced off each other with ease. Hell, he started coming to you about running Alexandria, about problems he couldn't quite get. And the two of you would talk until you worked out a solution. Because you always did.

It made no sense why you'd even clashed in the first place.

You were confused, beyond confused. And you wanted things, wanted to ask things, but they seemed dangerous. Far away-

That brought you here, on a night when you couldn't sleep. Which were more frequent nowadays, if you were completely honest. This whole situation made your mind run for a lot of different reasons, and when it wasn't that, it was nightmares. Alexandria was safe, you knew that, but it didn't necessarily stop your fight or flight -the urge to constantly be on edge, protect.

So, sometimes you sat here on the steps of your porch in the night -the chill and silence of it soothed you. It wouldn't always get you back to sleep, but it would make you feel better. Remind yourself that you're breathing. That you're alive.

You exhaled, trailing your finger along the wood of the railing beside you -absorbing the low buzz of bugs in the air and the strangely familiar groans of walkers outside the walls. It was kinda fucked up that it calmed you down, but you gave yourself a pass.

"Funny seein' ya 'ere."

Your eyes shot up and latched onto his.

The Grimes house was just a couple of houses down, diagonal to yours. So, you could see him, but not entirely clearly.

He was leaning on the porch railing, you could see the sleeves of his jacket against the starch white, and his hair seemed a little messy -your eyes trailed over a particular curl. It was hanging slightly down in front of his face. (You got the urge to fix it, comb it back into place.)

"'Could say the same to you, Grimes," you replied.

You saw him smile, dropping his head to look at the ground. It made something in your chest flutter. But, before you could say anything else, he was stepping down from his porch and making his way to you.

As he got closer you recognized that he was in pajamas with just a jacket thrown over.

He stood just at the bottom of the stairs, leaning onto the railing slightly and just looking at you. Like he always did these days. With worry and... something else.

"Nightmare?" he questioned, genuinely.

You rolled your lip around your teeth, deciding to say, "Kind of."

Rick's lips pressed into a frown, eyes glazing along your face (you didn't look back at him), "Can I sit?"

You were wordless, but moved slightly to the left (despite not really needing to) as unspoken acceptance. He stared at you for a second longer, before slowly but surely making his way to the steps. He sat closer to you than you thought he would've, but it was almost in character of him to do something that surprises you so.

"Ya cold?"

On cue, you shivered slightly, "I've had worse."

Rick let out a low sigh (he knew you well now), nudging off his jacket and hanging it squarely on your shoulders without hesitation. His eyes trailed over you wearing it for a moment, a small look in his eyes that you couldn't name. All shiny as his lips quirked up just a smidgen.

"You don't have to do that," you objected, but it was quiet and weak.

"I want to," he replied, simply.

You couldn't argue with that. Hell, you didn't think you could argue with him anymore-

Rick interrupted the thought, eyebrows furrowed in that kind of way you knew to be worried, "What do ya mean 'kinda'?"

You took a second, staring out into the night -listening to the silence.

"My mind won't stop," you clarified, "-sometimes it's... things I've done, and other times it's... things that I just can't seem to figure out."

"What's it today?"

You pursed your lips a minute, before answering, "Something I can't figure out."

He stared at you, blue eyes flickering along your face in a hazy sort of way. It made something unfurl in your chest that you'd tried to keep shoved down, "Is 'ere anythin' I can do to help?"

You ran the idea through your head a few times, and let your eyes match him a few more. You aren't entirely sure why, but talking to Rick fel a little like he'd never judge you. Even though he had before, it was... it was now. Things were very different.

"Can I ask you a question?" you spoke, then, deflecting a little.

"Shoot," he responded, almost instantly. ( A little like he'd do anything you'd ask.)

"What happened to us?"

Rick's eyebrows furrowed, and you took it as a motion to keep talking, to explain. So, you did.

"We used to-" you dropped your hands on your lap, and stared out into the Alexandrian streets, "-We used to scream at each other until our faces turned red. We couldn't stand each other, and now..."

"'At ain't a good thing?" he questioned, something in his tone a little disappointed (it made your head swirl a little), "-'At it changed, I mean."

"It is," you reassured, facing him a second, "-but I just... Isn't it confusing?"

Rick stayed silent a second, eyes smoothing along your face. Just looking, like maybe he thought you were beautiful (just like you did on that day), or maybe like he never wanted to forget what you looked like.

"No."

You pressed your lips together.

"Don't get me wrong," he clarified with a smile, "-I hated ya once, a long time ago. But 'is? Now? It makes sense."

You asked before you could think about it, "What is 'this'?"

He just stared at you a second, something flickering through his eyes, careful and considerate. Something warm. The warmth you kept seeing now, the one you tried to avoid.

"You," he answered, vaguely, "-Us."

"What does that mean?" you asked, your confusion was ever-so-clear. This was all things you didn't understand.

He didn't say anything, as you stared out into the streets -watching some of the porch lights flicker. The night sky was still dark, so you weren't really worried about the hour.

And then, you felt calloused fingers on your chin -guiding you back to his eyes. The thoughts cleared out of your head.

"Y/N, you drive me fuckin' crazy," he laughed a little, and you felt your eyebrows furrow, "-not just in a frustratin' sorta way. You... I worry about ya like crazy, I think of ya like crazy... I care 'bout ya like crazy-"

Your heart skipped a beat.

"-an' I... I love ya like crazy."

Your lips felt stitched shut, as he just smiled at you -something in his eyes that you could see now. You could identify.

"Ya poke and prod at me until I'm reelin', yeah, but-" he pressed his lips together, eyes shimmering across your face, "-I wouldn't 'ave it any other fuckin' way. An' I mean 'at. I just... I'm not me without ya annoyin' the shit out of me. Without ya callin' me out on my shit."

You laughed, something burning the backs of your eyes, "I am the only one who would do that, huh?"

"Ya are," he grinned at you, and you felt something in your chest squeeze tight.

It felt clear then, abundantly clear.

"I love you too, Grimes."

He grinned, the big kind that crinkled at the eyes, "Thought so."

You rolled your eyes, with no bite, "Oh shut up, sheriff. I could still kick your ass, and you would deserve it."

He laughed, the genuine kind -hand coming to cradle your cheek, "Still, don't doubt it, sweetheart."

You smiled, and noticed just how close the two of you were. He only seemed to be roaming closer, and it made your heartbeat pick up in your chest a little. Before you could stop it, your eyes dipped down to his lips.

He grinned again, the kind that rattle down to your core, all handsome and shiny white teeth. And then, he started moving closer, his own eyes dipping to your lips.

"Ya kno', I can think of a way to get me to shut up."

"Can you?" you teased, quiet between the two of you.

He just hummed, distracted. It made something in your stomach stir.

"I am pretty desperate for you to," you remarked -playfully.

Rick busted into laughter, a loud kind that you barely ever heard from him. It made something in your chest shimmer, proud. You kind of wanted to hear that forever. And now, maybe you could.

The thought made you grin, as you leaned forward, impatiently, and connected your lips to his. It was just a press of lips, but you did feel him lean into it. Before you could get far, he laughed even more, breaking off the kiss, and it made you laugh.

"'Course ya can't wait for one second," he chuckled -playfully, "-You've always been so damn impatient."

"Oh, fuck you, Grimes," you laughed into the night, "-You're lucky I don't-"

And this time, he shut you up.

#its griming time #rick grimes #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #twd #twd rick grimes #rick grimes fanfiction #he's such a pretty liar

67 notes · View notes