#the worst part is that i can't get myself into writing them!!! (but you can i would be very glad) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joshym · 1 month

Text

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness.

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive.

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client.

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work.

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs.

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless.

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice.

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands.

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work.

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being.

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once.

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura.

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now.

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight.

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk.

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck.

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over.

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric.

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging.

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going.

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door.

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago.

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.”

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently.

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath.

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head.

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette.

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body.

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade.

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet.

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence.

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips.

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body.

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression.

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you.

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck.

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice.

“It’s…incredible, Jake.”

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body.

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them.

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp.

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands.

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity.

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth.

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you.

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions.

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being.

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him.

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock.

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.”

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him.

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you.

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure.

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.”

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release.

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax.

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested.

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs.

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with.

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth.

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek.

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand.

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch.

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.”

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.”

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfic #gvf fics #gvf smut #greta van smut #jake kiszka #greta van fleet

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tomhollandisabae · 1 year

Text

lonely- simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

masterlist

fandom; call of duty

summary; after simon had left for his next mission, you were faced with the biggest challenge of your life and you had to get through that all by yourself.

warnings; angst, pregnancy, fluff, mentions of death, english is not my first language

words; idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n; this idea was stuck into my brain since last week and once i couldn't find anything similar to it anywhere to read, i decided to write it myself. also you can send me your requests!!

a/n2; f1 fans please don't come after me i know you're expecting the 2nd part of the story with lewis but i have no motivation to write it😭i'll do it some time, but i don't know when. uni has been draining me out so much.

"please take care of yourself " was the last thing you told simon -your husband - before he left for yet another mission.

now it had been 12 months and there was no sign of him. however, a lot had happened in the past year, but most importantly you had given birth to a beautiful baby girl -all by yourself.

when you had found out that you were expecting, simon was long gone and you had no way to communicate with him. the only thing that you could do was to get through this pregnancy all alone. thank god that maternity leave was a thing, otherwise you had no idea how you could manage having a baby all by yourself.

whatsoever, you couldn't be mad at your husband as a matter of fact that you had found out about your pregnancy only one week after he had left, while the guilt was everyday eating you alive.

you had no idea how he would react though. you were aware of his past and how his father had treated him.

simon is a lovely human being... towards you. he's a sweet, loving and caring husband and you are absolutely sure that he will make a great father.

you had went through a lot during your pregnancy and you could admit that it wasn't an easy one; mood swings, cravings, morning sickness, back pain etc.

the worst part of it all was when you went into labour. you had spent hours and hours trying to bring the little bundle of joy, that you and the love of your life had created together, into this world.

and after many hours of pain and screaming you were finally holding your baby girl in your arms. the first thing that you had noticed about her were her eyes -same as her father's- and that made your eyes well up with tears.

now it had been almost 4 months since you had given birth and the constant stress of taking care of a baby by yourself had tore you apart both physically and emotionally. you were barely sleeping, you had lost your appetite and were actually a walking wreck.

some nights you would spend them in your bed crying yourself to sleep, wishing your husband was here to help you out.

currently, you were taking a shower as you heard your daughter crying. sighing deeply, you got out and wrapped a towel around you as you made your way to the nursery.

you took her in your arms and sat down on the rocking chair, lowering your towel and starting feeding her. once she was fed, you put her back to sleep and went into your room, changing quickly and laying on your bed.

you brought both your arms over your eyes in an attempt to block out any kind of light source and bit on your bottom lip trying not to cry, again.

as your mind wander in different places, you didn't hear the front door opening and closing as well as the heavy footsteps on the staircase.

you only raised your head as you saw your bedroom door opening, revealing your husband.

immediately, you were flooded by many different emotions as you jumped up from the bed and attacked him in a -suffocating- hug.

simon chuckled lightly and wrapped his arms protectively around you and kissed the top of your head.

"i can't believe that you're back." you pulled away for a moment "you're actually back." you embraced him again not having noticed the tears that were spilling from your eyes.

"i'm sorry it took me too long my love" he mumbled on top of your head as he squished you in his arms.

"i missed you" you lifted your head up, looking at him.

"i missed you y/n" he leaned down and slowly brought his lips on top of yours kissing you softly and yet so loving.

sooner or later, however, you broke away as you looked up at him with a huge smile.

"i have to show you something" you said excited and grabbed his hand, leading him out of your bedroom and across the hall way.

you glanced at him anxiously as you slowly opened the door of your baby's room. you turned on the lights and guided simon inside.

you were looking carefully at him as his expression changed from a curious one to a shocked.

"love..." he exclaimed as he turned to look at you while his bottom lip was trembling.

"i found out one week after you left. i had no way to tell you, simon, i'm so sorry" the guilt took over you.

"shh it's okay." he wrapped his arms once again around you as you sobbed into his chest.

"i just... it was awful, simon. first the guilt that there was a way to tell you, but i was too stupid to think about it and second all the pain, the emotions, everything... i just feel so... useless." you cried out.

"hey" he grabbed both your cheeks and looked you in the eye "you're the strongest woman i've ever known in my entire life, y/n. not only for going through a pregnancy and labour by yourself, but also for being able to get through that with being aware of a chance of me never coming back again and yet you got enough courage and look where that brought you love."

it was true. every time he would go on a new mission, the curiosity of his well being would kill you. every single day you were checking you mail for a letter that would be proclaiming your husband dead.

"i love you so much simon" you raised on your tiptoes and buried your face into the crook of his neck.

"i love you more sweetheart." he lifted your head once again and kissed you softly.

you were so grateful for the feeling of his warm, soft lips against yours, kissing them with so much love and care. every single time you would be in his radar, this man would worship the ground you were walking on.

finally, you pulled away with a small smile.

"come on" you guided him towards the crib where the newborn baby was sleeping in soundly.

carefully, you picked her up in your arms and turned towards simon that was looking at his daughter as if she was the most precious thing on earth.

"do you want to hold her?" you suggested.

"i... i don't know how" he admitted and you kissed his cheek smiling.

"that's why i'm here for. i'll show you how." you said and just like that you handed the small baby over to your husband that was feeling as if he was holding the most fragile thing in the world.

"she's... so small." he stroked lightly her rosy cheek with his thump.

what took you aback was that her little hand enveloped his pinky finger, holding it firmly. you gasped and his breath hitched in his throat.

"wow she didn't even do that to me. only knowing you for a few minutes and she's already a daddy's girl." you complained jokingly placing your hands on your hips.

"really doubt that. there's no one better than you." he kissed your forehead and your face broke into a huge smile as you wrapped your arms around your husband, admiring the way your daughter was rested in her father's chest, not really believing that you had finally built a family with the man you loved most in the entire world.

at that moment, you couldn't be more happy.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod x reader #cod x you #mw2 x reader

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catscidr · 20 days

Text

// dottore nsfw alphabet ft. the segments! //

i. note — (੭ ᐛ ) hehe.....so...... i have the worst writer’s block rn (its probably burnout because i straight up can't bring myself to do anything but o well) nd i thought filling this out would help. spoiler alert it did a little because i actually finished it.... i have like two Almost Finished wips collecting dust in my docs but i just cant get them done ueue. i write for thirty minutes n then close my laptop. i have a problem but WHATEVER!! THROWS DOTTORE NSFW ALPHABET LIKE A GRENADE AND RUNS!!!

ii. includes — dottore, the clones, gn!reader

iii. cw — nsfw under the cut! mentions of overstimulation, bondage, orgasm control, power imbalance, smidge of dubcon, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, one mention of syringes n needles, implied established relationship

A -> Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

— He’s not one to outright pamper you, but he does clean you up and makes sure that the bruises he left won’t be too sore in the morning; but if you beg hard enough, he’ll begrudgingly kiss them better. Just use his words against him and tease him a little n he’ll reward you with some smooches! ez

B -> Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

— He’s indifferent to his body. On you, though, he goes crazy for your neck. Archons, the things he can do to it are endless. He loves covering it in bitemarks, wrapping his hands around it to feel your rapid pulse, sucking hickeys into the sensitive skin... and we can’t forget how much he loves watching you tilt your head to the side so he can inject whatever liquid is inside his syringe. Call it a mix of sensual and morbid fascination the way he’s obsessed with your neck

C -> Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— Dottore’s cum is opaque and on the thicker side, but its bitter and not particularly pleasant to swallow. You can’t really blame him; he’s a busy man and he neglects his health regularly. If you ask him nicely, he’ll try to, at least, sip on some pineapple or orange juice during the day so you don’t rush to spit out the cum that lands in your mouth. He also cums a lot, thanks to his involuntary abstinence in his younger years.........

D -> Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

— Has thought about fucking you in front of his segments multiple times (not fucking you with them, just having them watch you two go at it. big difference here). It’s usually fueled by irritation or jealousy from seeing you spend time with them, but sometimes he’ll get this random urge to just completely and utterly claim you in front of them to get under their skin. Also to overwhelm you. yk. just a bit ˙ᵕ˙

E -> Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

— Wasn’t very experienced before he met you. Had one or two awkward hookups during his Akademiya days, but he really had more knowledge about sex than actual experience (getting a bad blowjob doesn’t really count for experience)

F -> Favorite position

— You somehow always end up in the prone bone position if you’re on a flat surface. He loves restraining you, but doing so with his whole body takes the cake. He’ll have one hand wrapped around your throat with his elbow on the bed to hold him up (so he doesn’t completely crush you), and the other hand will be holding your hip with a bruising grip to angle your pelvis so he can thrust into you over n over again without mercy

— .....but having you ride him when he’s tired is worthy of being an honorable mention. Don’t think you’re in control though, because as soon as you start to get too cocky he’ll grab your waist n thrust up sharply to knock that smile off your face (affectionately)

G -> Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

— Very serious, he’ll go as far as to punish you for even trying to crack a joke or giggle at something he said or did (but it’s a dub whenever you’re in a bratty mood so it’s fiiiine). Same goes for his older segments. His younger clones are less uptight about it though, and sometimes they’ll let out a laugh when a funny noise happens, but they won’t necessarily make jokes during it

H -> Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

— Trims it when he remembers to, when it gets annoying, or when you point it out. He’s not a fan of being clean-shaven, but if you really want him to be he’ll do it. His pubic hair is a darker shade than his hair, and the first time you saw it you promptly said “so you don’t dye your hair!” (he immediately flicked your forehead)

I -> Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

— Dottore isn’t romantic, full stop. But on a scale of 1 through 10 he would be around a 6; could charm you and sweep you off your feet if he wanted to, but he finds more enjoyment in teasing you than being a gentleman.

J -> Jack off (masturbation hc)

— He forgets that’s even an option when he’s in Snezhnaya. Whenever he gets hard he’ll have you take care of it, whether it’s in the form of a quickie or completely ditching his work to fuck you. So he only really masturbates like... once a week, twice at most if you’re not in the mood to help him with his hard on.

— But when he has to go out to other regions for work and won't be with you for long periods of time? He gets off more often than he’d like to admit.

K -> Kink(s)

— Big fan of dacryphilia, spit/messy sex, overstimulation, any kind of restraints, edging, breathplay, power imbalance, biting, dirty talk, brat taming, double penetration and anything that tests your limits.

— Medium fan of sex under the influence of either alcohol or aphrodisiacs, somnophilia, exhibitionism, temperature play, slightly dangerous things like knife and gun play, and group sex (with his segments specifically, no one else. he’s possessive of you)

— Honorable mention: roleplay, to some extent. Mans loves to do a “medical checkup” on you every once in a while. And he’s more of a dom than a sub, too. His older segments have pretty much the same kinks as he does (ofc), but the younger ones tend to lean more towards being switchy than just. dom

L -> Location (favorite place to do the do)

— Has a bias for taking you in his office. Loves the idea that any of his segments could overhear the both of you going at it and all they can do is rub one out somewhere quiet. He’s so mean to them, using you like that.........

M -> Motivation (what turns them on)

— When you act like a brat, purposely teasing him n pushing his buttons..... makes his blood rush down to his cock. Can’t help thinking of the many ways he’ll put you in your place later

N -> No (immediate turn offs)

— Anything that has to do with his kid/youngest segments and his coworkers, the other Harbingers.

O -> Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

— Would rather receive than give, but won’t shy away from the opportunity to overstimulate you with his fingers/hands and tongue. Isn’t the best at giving head but will gladly take the time to learn what makes you cum the fastest if you want him to

P -> Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

— Dottore’s usually fast n rough, but he’ll have his moments where he wants to dote on you hard. His lack of affection catches up to him n he just wants to trace every curve of your body while languidly driving his cock inside of you sometimes, what can ya do

Q -> Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

— Prefers taking his time to tease you by a mile, but he loves quickies too (since he can very well tease you by having a quickie)

R -> Risk (are they game to experiment?) the irony of this wording isn’t lost on me

— He's game to experiment. If you’re on board, he’s always willing to try something at least once

S -> Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

— His younger segments tire out easily (virgins....... /affectionate) but his older ones, himself included, can go on and on and on. Him being a hermit n staying in his lab for multiple days at a time is extremely misleading, don’t be fooled!! He’ll overstimulate you to prove a point if you try to even poke fun at him n imply that he’ll get tired because he doesn’t “exercise” much (you’re his exercise, anyways)

T -> Toys (do they have any?)

— Dottore does have some (and has dabbled in making some, too), namely (big and small) vibrators, dildos, and restraints but most of the time he prefers doing without them than with. Usually. When he does use them, he’ll make the whole “session” about them.

— Controlling the rate in which a machine fucks you while he lazily jerks off in front of you, just out of your reach so you can’t touch him.... slowing down the silicone dildo’s pace when you start to get frustrated, making you even more frustrated..... yeah

U -> Unfair (how much they like to tease)

— He’s the WORST. The worst!!! You never know if he’ll overstimulate you, edge you, ruin your orgasm or just rile you up just to not do anything about it. Loves teasing you just as much as he loves to bury himself in his research (which is, obviously, a lot. good luck soldier)

V -> Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

— Definitely on the quieter side (and it’s totally not so he can hear you more clearly, nuh uh). Lets out grunts/growls and heavy puffs of air more than actual moans, but it just makes the times whenever you do manage to draw out a pretty boy moan even sweeter <3

W -> Wild card (a random hc)

— Il Dottore, the Second Harbinger, outcast of the Akademiya, is incredibly touchy. He’ll place his hand on your waist when he walks past you, he’ll keep a hand on your thigh when you’re accompanying him during a meeting. He needs to have a hand on you at all times /whenever it’s possible/, including when you’re having sex. Can’t go a single second without touching you, he would probably actually bite you without any remorse if you tried to tie his hands so he can’t touch you

X -> X-ray (what’s going on under those clothes ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ )

— Bigger than most, but more of a grower than a shower. 3.8 inches soft and stands at a proud 7.4 inches when hard, with a 4.7 girth . Circumcised (don’t ask how), his skin is light (#FFEBCF) but his cock fades into a slightly darker color (#F7D4BC) while the head is more of a pretty n peachy tone (#F1A491). Has some light scarring in his pelvis area and a defined vein from the bottom of his shaft that stops shy of his glans. Also curves to the right just a bit.......

— His pubes r a dull-ish blue (#88B5D3)— while the hair on his head is a lighter, more teal blue for reference (#B6E0E0). Has a slight happy trail, too

Y -> Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

— He used to have a very low sex drive. In the beginning of your relationship, it wouldn't be uncommon for you two to go weeks without any action. As time went on though, he’s come to develop a higher sex drive and now has a mid to high libido. It’s your fault for being so tempting, really

Z -> Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

— Has the freakish ability to go right back to work as if nothing ever happened when you’re both finished, no matter how much you both cum...... makes him the perfect man to provide aftercare though. He’ll stay by your side while you drift off and then he’ll go back and do whatever he has to do— unless you cling onto him n pull him back to stay in bed. If that does happen, he’ll just sit in bed and read a book while you snooze away.

#the color html shit took so long good lord my fingers r cramping from doing ctrl c ctrl + v help me #dont come for me for describing his weewee in detail..........#i hope this doesnt flop #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #genshin x you #dottore x you #dottore x gn reader #dottore smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #cw dubcon #cw knife play #cw gun play #୧ ‧₊˚cat's work!

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hyperfixat · 29 days

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hey!! I really love ur blog so so much rn! If you can, I'd like to request a neurodivergent MC? One that has certain foods they hate and have never told anyone since their family had forced them to try them since they were little? (Ex. Cauliflower, brussel sprouts, blueberries, bananas, carrots) and so, one day, when theyre all eating (at the HoL or just out) and they notice MC eating all but those foods on their plate? Sorry if this is a bit too specific, I just really can't write it properly for myself and i would like to have some form of comfort-

Anyway, have an amazing day!!

anon i am holding you so close rignt now this cured my writers block this is the first ask i’ve got in like two months TT

i am incapable of writing anything not hurt comfort so there is some ‘oh man im so sad :(‘ at the beginning but yk if u said u like my writing i imagine u kinda expected this

warning for mentions of throw up and actually eating the bad foods :(

and yes yes yes i love writing explicitly nd mcs!! i added in another obstacle to the req; freaky demon food bcs thats always fun to consider. That way u can kinda make the demon food similar to whatever food u want in ur mind, anyhow, the words u wanted;

You push the pile of purple (purple!?) mashed… something from one corner of your plate to the center. First you had to go to a strange demon school where all of your peers are so much scarier and larger than you and now you’ve been presented with whatever the hell this is for dinner.

You think Leviathan (Levi — it feels so odd referring to him so casually having just met him) was the one that made it. There was a protein on the plate, you ate that with no issues, but.

Urgh. This?

It’s your second night sleeping in the House of Lamentation and you don’t feel nearly comfortable or safe enough to get a snack on your own, especially at night. You’ve had such a long day at RAD and your body is dying for some food.

Disguising your disgusted reluctance with a carefully blank face, your grab some of the. The stuff.

Ah, nope. You set your fork down quietly after taking a slow bite / swallow and grab your cup to drown the leftover flavors and textures.

Luckily all the demon brothers seem pretty into their dinnertime banter and didn’t notice your… less than satisfactory reaction to the food.

Gosh, you don’t want to offend any of them, especially not so early on in the year you’ll have to room with them.

It’s a good thing that Beelzebub is practically a food vacuum and doesn’t question the nearly untouched pile of. Well you know. Left over on your plate.

…It’s official. You hate Devildom cuisine.

Is the universe playing one big, cruel joke on you? What the hell is wrong with demons? Why must the eat the worst things in the world? Why… why… why?

Lucifer wouldn’t let you starve under his roof, and provides you with full meals and makes it clear what parts of the kitchen are free to raid (as not to take anything designated to anyone else). You feel like the most ungrateful human in the whole wide world right now.

It’s been quite a few months since the start of the exchange program and you’ve been… getting by. Okay, that’s not exactly true, you’ve been having a blast in most aspects of your stay in the Devildom. Most.

There’s still the teeny tiny issue of the cuisine not quite fitting your tastes. You’ve tried talking to Solomon about the Devildom cuisine and he tried to cheer you up with some authentic human world cuisine, but as it turns out his cooking is far worse than Devildom-style food.

Not to be dramatic, but you’re suffering in silence. You get by, as in you’re not hungry – the demons you’ve grown oh so fond of wouldn’t let that happen. They always seem willing to fetch you anything.

You’re trying so hard not to hurt any feelings, because you love them and want to support them. It’s just. You want to throw up almost every meal. (Barbatos’ little treats have been your saving grace – he always seems to have some yummy little snack on him. One that you like and doesn’t make you feel like your throat is crawling out of your mouth.)

Most of the time the brothers don’t pay much thought to what you leave on your plate – as long as you eat some of what was served they seem content. Even on nights where the meal is more nasty than good, it’s easy to just say you’re not that hungry.

This night was bound to happen at some point. Your plate is uneatable. It’s edible, just uneatable. It’d be more humiliating to choke down a few bites than it is to go to bed hungry. You wrinkle your nose when you think no one is looking and stab at the meat chunk.

Your eyes are downcast and you drag your knife lazily through the food. It’s mesmerizing in a way, so much so that you don’t notice at first when Asmo calls your name.

“MC, is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?” At this point he’s drawn the attention of his brothers as well.

“Yeah, you’re barely eating,” Mammon supplies.

Ah, the moment you’ve been dreading and hoped you would never have to face.

“Oh, I don’t have much of an appetite right now.” Which certainly isn’t a lie.

“You didn’t eat much at lunch, hon.” Asmo reaches across the table to put the back of his manicured hand on your forehead to feel for a fever.

You cringe, “uhm, well. I’m.” You fail to think of a decent lie quick enough – nothing you say will be believable as you mentally blue screen.

“Honest answer?” Satan prods.

“I’m not the biggest fan of some Devildom foods.” “Not the biggest fan?” Beel questions, “you dislike them enough to forgo eating entirely.”

“I’m trying not to sound like an ungrateful jerk right now. Give me a moment to word this properly.”

Satan scoffs. “Just say it. Whatever you have to say can’t be worse than what we’ve put you through.”

“Damn, okay. The food makes me wanna throw up when I eat it.”

Levi, the chef of the night, folds in on himself, face darkening with shame or embarrassment.

“It’s not a personal gripe, most meals have something that makes me feel that way, hon.” It seems your attempt to comfort him isn’t appreciated though, as Levi shoves his face in his hands.

Lucifer sets his fork down. “And why haven’t you said anything to any of us about this? We want you to feel at home here.”

“You can’t expect me to be comfortable barging into what was at the time a strangers house and demand they make special accommodations for me, then once I was comfortable enough to say something I felt I put up with it long enough that it’d be odd to bring it up out of nowhere.”

“Fair enough,” Satan nods along.

“No? Not ‘fair enough’!” Mammon scolds. “You shoulda said something to me! Do you even like half the snacks I give you? I spent good Grimm on those!”

Memories of bribing Beelzebub to do certain errands in the earlier days of your Devildom stay flicker through your mind. “They got eaten.”

“MC,” Lucifer brings the conversation back on track. “Let us know foods you don’t want to eat, we may be demons, but we’re here to provide you with a comfortable stay.” You nod under his sincere gaze. “Now, give your plate to Beel and order some delivery. I’ll cover the costs, as long as you eat.”

As you shove your plate across the table you see Lucifer pulling a shiny black card from his coat pocket. He gestures for you to come and take it. You walk to the head of the table and he presses the card into your hand.

“Order whatever you’d like. My treat.” There’s a glint of humor in his eyes and you look down to see Goldie in your palm.

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #om hcs #obey me hcs #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me headcanons #obey me headcanon #obey me x you #obey me demon brothers #hyperfixat answers

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furiousgoldfish · 3 months

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While growing up in an abusive family, a part of me strongly refused to grow up, in fact it's still resisting it. I thought at first, it was because I was taught that I am less and less valuable as I age, but it wasn't only that. It turns out, growing around mostly abusive people, can give you some horrifying notions of what it means to be an adult.

I am going to write down how I perceived adulthood, as an abused kid, because I need to work on it myself, and if there's somebody else feeling this, know that these are not your only option for a future:

All adults are stupid, unkind, boring, bitter, aggressive, obsessed with money, do not understand people around them at all.

All adults have to play specific roles assigned to them and don't step outside of these roles. For instance: mother, grandma, father, aunt, teacher, uncle, neighbour. All roles are restrictive and people can only do whatever is assigned to this role (cleaning, cooking, working a job, going to army, being married, etc)

Adults can't play, be curious, or have fun. Adults have to be focused on their role and stay grumpy, serious, bitter and busy. They don't laugh except when drunk.

Adults are having it tougher than children. They are unloved, uncared for, nobody considers them nice or pretty, nobody wants them around or gives them gifts. Adults are permanently unwanted and undesired everywhere.

Adults have good opinions only of people who are already dead. Everyone alive is constantly being humiliated, shamed and criticized. It's better to be dead.

Adults don't care about children, and only think the worst of children. Adults think children should only exist to work and to be yelled at. Adults are dangerous.

Adults don't care about friendships, loyalty, kindness, courage, bonds, closeness, care, or love. Adults friendships are drinking and smoking in the same room while talking badly about every other person in their life. They don't play, laugh or share things. It's a big game of pretense that the other has it better.

Adults lie and fake everything. They lie about their home life, about what they know, about money. They lie about, and to their children. They tell lies confidently. They make things up if they don't know and then tell those lies as if they're truths. They don't feel guilt if caught lying and instead double down on it.

Adults have money but they can't spend it. They have to keep paying bills and they never have enough money for bills and food. They will buy alcohol and cigarettes though, but they're always stressed about bills. They consider it children's fault.

Adults are endlessly stressed about having to 'feed a family'. This is so bad that they actually end up hating their families. They wish all of their children were dead so they wouldn't have to feed them. They can't seem to stop having children but also hate feeding them. It's like they're forced into it.

Adults have to work constantly. They work their jobs and have to do endless chores when they get home. They have to get up early to do chores and do them late at night. They have to do everything alone, unless they can get a child to do it for them. They can't select not to do it, they have to shift it to someone else to avoid it. Adults have no free time, or hobbies. They have to work at all times and always know what needs to be done.

Adults have bodies that work less and less. They can't run, climb or jump. They're always having surgeries and can barely walk. Their backs and hips hurt and they complain about the pain every time they need to do anything. They blame the work for this but can't stop working. They're still somehow stronger than children when they want to hurt children, and then they're fully mobile. But at all other times they appear sickly and need stuff done for them.

Adults never get over anything that ever happened to them. They're always victimized by everything that ever happened to them. We the children have to get over things instantly, but they are angry and bitter about the past forever. They hold grudges against family members forever. They freely take things out on other family members. They never forgive or forget or calm down.

Adults are not passionate about anything. Their main priority is looking good in front of others and convincing everyone they're better than they are.

Adults selectively care when someone is crying. If it's someone they don't know, they'll act nice about it. If they know the person they will tell them to shut up and stop annoying them. It's like they fall for strangers tears but see through anyone else's as pretense. I don't understand.

Adults die and then other adults get drunk at their funerals. They say you need to cry but they're only serious for the public part and then go and have parties where they just laugh with everyone. Adults don't care about the dead people but say you're not supposed to say anything bad about them now they're dead. They pretend they cared while the person was alive but they didn't. They obsessively clean and decorate graves just for others not to think they 'didn't care'.

Adults will betray anyone's secrets. Adults will tell other adults whatever you told them in confidence. Adults cannot be trusted with information.

Adults judge and badmouth anyone who doesn't act the way they think people are supposed to act. They will impose their own rules and morals on others and shame anyone who doesn't agree. They insist that everyone needs to follow their assigned family role even though they complain about hating their own. They use the most horrid slurs for people they consider 'bad at their role' and write these people off as parasites and worthless people

Adults all agree children should be obedient, quiet and never want anything or disturb them. They want children only to present them with achievements and work for the rest of time.

Adults have sex but nobody is supposed to say anything about it. It's unclear whether they want to be doing it. If it's a part of a role it doesn't seem like they can say no.

Adults can't be cared for or pampered like children can. Adults do not get candy or chocolate. Adults say it's because children are cute and they're not. Adults are jealous of children. Adults complain about not being cared for.

Adults don't understand how hard children have it and always say being a child is the easiest and best time of life. They seem jealous and tell children to be grateful because it's only going to get worse. I can't imagine surviving worse. They claim their childhood was better than anything they deal with now because food was free and they didn't have to have a job.

Adults have no freedom. They have to stay with family and play their role. They can't survive otherwise. They leech off of each other and hate everyone. They live by imposed rules that force everyone to stay together even if they hate each other. They hate everyone around them. They feel loyal to no one. They bring misery to themselves and people around them and don't feel shame or responsibility for anyone they've hurt or ruined.

Adults don't see others as people with their own inner world. They insist that everyone except them is stupid, shallow, mindless and worthless.

Adults are all cowards who will submit to anyone who is stronger and louder. They'll only fight those who are weaker. They don't care about justice and will happily punish victims in unfair fights. They themselves are bitter and upset if they don't get the justice.

Adults only ever look out for themselves. They don't care about other people. They want money and others to admire them and to serve them. If that is not happening they are angry and bitter at the entire world.

Adults don't see good in other people. They don't see what someone else needs or deserves. They don't care about adventures or magic. They don't have wonder or awe inside of themselves. They don't even look at beautiful things in front of them. They don't care about nature, animals or trees. They don't care about books or knowledge, or reading. They don't care about stories or legends. They don't care about people who suffer so badly they want to die. They judge people for suicide.

They don't care about creating or making something unless it can be sold for money. They don't even tolerate others doing it.

They love no one. Everything they do is a drag and a pain to them and they want to push their work on someone else all the time. They don't care about anything except money and how to get more attention and keep pretenses. They have no true friends or care for anyone. All they have is work, rules and roles they need to act. Their lives are meaningless. Even though they have money they cannot travel or use it for fun or joy. They don't think anyone should be free to do as they want. They have no dignity or honor but pretend they do when in company. They yell but pretend they're victims for 'having to yell'.

They don't care if someone wants to die because of their actions. They don't care for anyone who wants to live differently. People who live differently are worthless and stupid to them. They think they're the only ones who are always right even when they're always wrong.

Adults are convinced that when I grow up this will all make sense and I will grow up to be exactly like them

If you felt as a child, or still do, that these are the truths of adulthood, and something you'll end up becoming, it's not true, and it's mostly just abusers who live their lives in this manner. If this is the only thing you've ever known and seen as a child, adulthood would be terrifying and feel like you'd have to lose your soul in order to become like this.

I'll write another follow-up debunking these and writing what I feel adulthood is right now. It's just definitely not that. And living around people who act like this is normal, is traumatic.

#growing up in abuse #traumatic childhood #perceived notions about growing up #adulthood myths #myths of adulthood from a mind of an abused kid #child abuse #abusive adults #abusers making themselves seem like the norm #growing up in narcissistic household #the empty space in the middle is just so tumblr would let me post #apparently there's a character limit per block #and all of my bullet points were just making one block #the limit is 4096 characters btw

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flowerandblood · 1 month

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ONE YEAR OF FLOWER&BLOOD

✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙

Exactly one year ago I posted my first chapter of the My Best Friend series. Nowadays I think it's something awful and I don't even try to edit it because I'd have to write everything from scratch, but I've left it for people who feel attached to the story. I remember getting about six likes and one comment on the first day and that huuuuge interest made me eager to create chapter 2 and then all the others.

I remember the excitement with which I waited and then replied to comments, not believing that people were actually waiting for the next chapter. At the time I was literally not following anyone, which was good because I wasn't comparing myself to anyone.

Eventually I felt I was ready to try writing other series and a few were successful enough that I decided to stay here permanently and create because it made me happy. Up to that point, everyone had been very kind to me and I started following more and more blogs, wanting to feel part of the fandom, to make friends with everyone. Now I know that was the biggest mistake I made.

Seeing things that didn't interest me, fanfic's whose way of writing couldn't draw me in, I felt frustrated, while at the same time fearing that if I stopped following someone, that person would see it as an affront. At the same time, The Impossible Choice, my biggest project until The Fall from the Heavens (which I'm currently editing and re-editing, while inserting on AO3), began to be written.

Just when I thought I had reached the pinnacle of my abilities (which wasn't true), I also started to clash with anonymous hate messages, probably the worst of which were those vilifying me and my husband, and those regarding my one-shot with Micheal Gavey. I know now that taking it personally and getting involved was my big mistake, and the fandom was shaken by drama that got out of hand.

I was a few steps away from deleting my blog at the time, but my husband talked me out of the idea (thankfully, as my stories aren't saved anywhere else − I'm only now moving them to AO3).

That's when I first realised that some people here I don't even like, and they probably don't like me. I wondered, why are we following each other then? Why are we pretending to have any courtesy? It was only later that I realised that to be considered someone's friend, you have to reblog their work and preferably agree with them even when they write hurtful things.

Since I've depleted my circle of those I follow to about 20 people, since I've blocked dozens of people and tags, there's been blissful silence (with the exceptions of when I write about behaviour in the fandom that I find toxic and someone accuses me of causing drama, but I'm used to it now). I've also never written happier than I do now.

Ideas come to me on their own, I don't feel uptight about what other big people will think of me, whether they reblog it, approve of it or not. I don't give a shit and life is beautiful! Although I can be emotionally unstable, I'm only 70 people short of crossing the next milestone of 3,000 followers, and that's BIG for me. It amuses me that I keep getting messages that someone is going to block me or stop following me, and you guys keep coming. It's gratifying.

I'm going to keep writing for you guys, and I'm sure during season two you'll also see my posts describing my impressions after the episodes in which I hope to involve my husband. I'll also keep you updated here on how I'm doing with my book I'm creating in my private life.

Apreciation

@ewanmitchellcrumbs

Ange. I know that sometimes I'm fucked up, but I want you to know that you've made this place so much more bearable for me that I can't imagine it without you. What I appreciate most about you is that you can talk and discuss, that you always try to understand the other side, that you are empathetic, warm and kind. I feel that, like friends in everyday life, we can also tell each other about things we disagree about, and there are not many people like that here.

On top of that, you are very talented and your stories are always a pleasure to read, even when they are short, you are able to build the plot and atmosphere perfectly, something I have always admired. Thank you for every kind word and understanding.

I still remember your first message to me via ask, referring to the fact that I didn't want to write a pairing with a mermaid because someone else was writing about it at the same time. My heart melted then, it was so nice!

@targaryenrealnessdarling

Liz, Queen of Angst! Your calmness and composure puts me in awe. You're disgustingly talented when it comes to writing and you have a super-sweet personality. When you started following me I began to squirm with delight, and when you started reblogging my stuff? My goodness!!!

@persephonerinyes

You've been engaging and reblogging my stories for as long as I can remember. Always involved, your thoughts make me smile. Thank you for being with me for so long!

@zenka96

You've been here with me since the dawn of time. You know that I love you. Your support from the very beginning really makes me feel like I have a friend here.

@huramuna

I am so proud of you! I remember your asks when I wrote Glass Cuts Deepest, your illustrations for me and your uncertainty about whether you should start writing yourself. I'm so happy for you and that you are so successful! You deserved it.

@black-dread & @aegonx

You are my favourite gif makers. Your work always leaves me in awe, you are amazing! I know how much work you put into it and somehow you make even the worst lit scenes look wonderful!

@summerposie; @0eessirk8; @melsunshine; @immyowndefender; @bellaisasleep; @kckt88; @thedamewithabook; @happinessinthebeing; @queenofshinigamis; @travelingmypassion; @mefools; @fan-goddess; @toodlesxcuddles; @ammo23; @troublesomesnitch; @mariahossain; @out-of-life; @apothe-roses; @heavenhatesme; @whitearemydarkestnight; @liv-cole; @blackswxnn; @echos-muses; @watercolorskyy; @at-a-rax-ia; @tssf-imagines; @snh96; @hiatuswhore; @exitpursuedbyavulcan; @darylandbethfanforever9; @the-dendrophile-bookdragon; @opheliaas-stuff @zaldritzosrose

Your comments and reblogs make me want to keep writing. You make me laugh, you comfort me and you support me. I know I'm definitely forgetting someone, but I want you to know that I love everyone who comments on my stories and there is nothing better for me than responding to your reactions and questions! I have known some of you for so many months that I truly consider you my good friends!

lottie-blue-star; aveatquevale-; aemondtargaryenwifey marvelescvpe; alphard-hydraes-blog; herejusttostan; li0nn3stuff; alexandrawho; vilmakamunen; angelinap09; theloveablestargirl; rose-blue-19; xxxkat3xxx; flosaureum; mandiiblanche; librawh0re; jasminecosmic99; ivvypg; rojocarnation; killmanduh; tokkiiidoll; wolfdressedinlace; angelofvivianne; nina2697; starwarsgirlsimmer1; katsucker; ipostwhtifeel; aemondsdelight; ilswemoon; tigrigri; pasta-rask; roselibrary; lystargs; gemini-mama; nikstrange; tempo-rary-fix; coffeeobsessedtrencher; gwuinivyre; dreamerbythewayx; diiickbrainn; mothmankit

And everyone else I missed and whose icons I would recognize from afar. I know that you have been with me for many months, often in silence or communicating anonymously. Your silent support and presence is something wonderful for me, knowing that you have been with me for so long and read all my posts!

Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!

#one year anniversary #celebration

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forever-once-gone · 3 months

Text

Day 1: Sweet things soft!yandere bts does to make you unconsciously fall in love with them <3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February!

Word count: 1.1k, 1.3k, 2.0k, 0.5k, 1.5k, 0.8k, 1.8k (respectively, for a total of ~9.3k)

Content and Warnings: soft yandere (though can be read as not yandere, for most of them), love, nicknames, "productivity" ruts, insecurity, fluff, suggestive but no smut, wandering hands,

Author' note: This is for a challenge that I've put on myself to write every day of the month. The goal is not to write a lot, but just to write something. Obviously I failed this time, as I lost control of keeping these short. They were all supposed to be about 0.5k like Joon's (his was the first I wrote) but I just can't control myself and they ended up getting way too long. Especially Hobi's. I blame it on the fact that I haven't written for him yet, so I just went all out. It's unedited, as all of these will be. Don't expect timely posting as, again , this challenge is more for me to write, not for me to post. But yeah, enjoy! And let me know what you think. This is the first time I'm writing headcannons like this, so it was fun!

Kim Seokjin

~ He cooks for you

~ Your annoying roommate who seems to care for no-one else but himself, who made a little too much noise when he was playing video games in the living room, whether it be due to his first person shooter or him swaying his hips as the latest version of Just Dance blared out of the surround sound speakers he’d installed when he first moved in, your infuriating roommate who always forgot his clothes in the washer, making you put his wet, cold clothes in the dryer

~ That same, selfish roommate always found time to pause his little game, or whatever other activity, to make you food when he noticed you venture out of the room you rarely came out of (due to not wanting to see the irritating man) and into the kitchen

~ No matter how many times you tell him that you are capable of making your own lunches, he always pushes you aside and begins cooking himself

~ Making you sit at the breakfast bar with a statement along the lines of: “well, I’m hungry now, so I’m going to make lunch. You suck at cooking, so you might as well just eat what I make, I don’t want the whole house to smell like burnt fish like last time.”

~ Which is a lie, by the way

~ You do not, by any means, suck at cooking or leave the house smelling bad

~ You’re actually a pretty good cook

~ Now, you may not be a world-class chef, but you definitely knew your way around the kitchen

~ But you see, dear reader, acts of service (or more specifically, acts of cooking) were Jin’s love language

~ He may not be good at keeping up with his chores, or keeping his voice low when you were in your room trying to relax, but he did try to show his affection for you through his cooking (as he knew no other way to try and get closer to you)

~ Seeing you eating the recipe that he had perfected a few years back with a huge smile that he rarely got to see directed towards him (due to your disdain for your immature, hectic roommate) was enough to make a red hue coat his face

~ When you would finish your plate and finally notice his blush, no amount of questioning would lead him to admit that seeing you look happy—happy because of him—was the reason behind it

~ He would give excuses like: “It’s from the hot stove!” or “I put five chillies in the marinade, and it’s too spicy now!” or the wildest, most unbelievable excuse he’s given till date “I’m trying to keep myself from vomiting!”

~ Like… why would he be about to vomit when he sat beside you at the breakfast bar eating a bite of the softest and most delectable cupcake he’s made to date????

~ This cupcake would never make even the worst critic want to vomit???

~ Why does he refuse to admit it’s just because seeing the way that you’re happily swaying as you devour your third cupcake of the night made his heart swell in his chest???

~ Before, you may have refused to leave your room any more than necessary due to how Jin always managed to raise your blood pressure

~ But over the past few months of him taking up cooking for the both of you, he’s been able to see you much more than just the three times he would usually see you (breakfast, lunch, and dinner)

~ At first he would only see you when you needed to eat or leave the house, but with time, you began to spend more of your day with him, watching him cook up his new creation for the both of you to try together

~ He unconsciously started to make recipes that took longer, just so you would sit in front of him for more time as he chopped vegetables and stirred pots

~ You began to actually speak to him, and not just yell at him to make sure to take out the trash and remind him that it was his turn to clean the bathroom

~ You guys were actually talking, but not just talking, you guys were getting along

~ Who would have thought that the roommate you used to complain to your friends about over the phone, would soon become someone who you wanted to spend time with?

~ With his longer recipes, you now would bring some sort of entertainment with you, sometimes a book, or your phone, or sometimes you’d sneak off into the living room across from the kitchen and begin messing around with the game he had put on pause when you came out of your room declaring you were hungry and asking him to make that one pasta recipe you loved

~ You would laugh as he’d yell from the stove about how you were “going to mess up my save files!”

~ Slowly he was able to coax you out of your room to spend more time with him in this way, until the equilibrium shifted, and you began to spend more time outside of your room than inside of it

~ Outside of your room and with him

~ Before you knew it, your night time routine had shifted.

~ Your routine used to be eating the delicious meal that jin made for you, washing the dishes for the both of you (it was only fair with him cooking for you all the time), and then heading straight back into your room with a small, reluctant thank you

~ But now?

~ You would wash the dishes, and instead of going into your room, you’d settle on the couch where Jin had gone back to playing his video games

~ When he’d notice you were done with the dishes, he’d throw one end of the blanket that he was wrapped up in to you

~ He’d try not to draw attention to the flush that had resurfaced on his cheeks again (due to you willingly spending time with him outside of cooking now) as he kept his eyes locked on the tv, but it was a fruitless attempt as you had grown fond of the rosiness of his cheeks and would notice it even if he were to try to hide the red under a pound of concealer

~ He’d try not to gulp when you’d slide closer to his end of the couch, pressing against his arm, a hand falling on his thigh under the blanket, peeking over his shoulder at the controller in his hand

~ You’d whisper out a low-toned comment of how you wanted to learn how to play too, how you wanted him to teach you how to play

~ He was willing to cook for you three times a day—that took a lot of effort, you had to admit

~ Maybe it was time for you to return the favour

Min Yoongi

~ He always indulges you in your newest hobbies

~ You tend to hop from one interest to another

~ One day you’re learning how to crochet, the next you’re folding a thousand paper cranes

~ Always grasping at the newest pastime that you saw pop up on your feed, you tend to hole yourself up in your room, fiddling with tiny strips of paper as you fold paper stars (at least, that’s what you were obsessing over this time)

~ He would gladly sit beside you, cutting thin strips of paper just so you didn’t have to stop your folding to restock

~ When you had quickly changed to knitting, and the shoe box of paper strips were left to rot under your bed, he didn’t make you feel bad at all

~ Whereas your friends from the past made you feel guilty when you wouldn’t stick to your hobbies long enough to actually use up the things that they had helped you with or bought you (claiming they had wasted their time helping you)

~ Yoongi, on the other hand, would just smile and ask you about the new task that had caught your eye

~ He’d rather bite off his own tongue, than say anything that would make you feel bad

~ Quickly he’d adapt and now, instead of cutting strips of paper, he was rolling your yarn into balls by hand as your playlist played in the background

~ Though the music was playing, he was focused more on you explaining the new pattern that you’d learned, watching as you ranted about the required tension in the yarn as you fiddled with your newest project

~ When you were able to stick to a hobby long enough to complete a project, he was the one who was the most proud of you compared to anyone else

~ When you showed him the bottle green knit ribbed sweater you had completed for him, he was smiling ear to ear, pulling his current hoodie off in an instant to put on the one you’d made him

~ He watched sweetly as you moved his body around to show him all the techniques you had to use

~ Lifting his arms up to show him where you had to attach the sleeves to the torso of the sweater

~ Tilting his chin up so you could get a better look at the neckline, as you told him how you had to learn a different stitch just to make it

~ You tried to pretend like you didn’t see the endeared, rosy look on his face, when you looked back up at him, realizing just how close you were to him at that point

~ You took a step back from him, clearing your throat, asking him to do a spin so you could see how the back fit him

~ You hoped he didn’t discern that the only reason that you had asked him to turn was so you’d be given a chance to collect yourself

~ When he finally did turn back around—at your say—he gave you a small, tender smile

~ “Thank you”

~ You could have melted right there

~ You loved how he didn’t even point out the fallen stitches as he hugged the fabric close to himself with a smile

~ But even in obviously love-filled moments like that, it wasn’t enough to really pull you together

~ It wasn’t until you had taken up learning how to play the guitar, that the both of you couldn’t skirt around your feelings any longer

~ When your feed had become filled with electric guitar covers of classic rock, pop rock, and modern pop music, you had quickly told your enabler about your new passion

~ Yoongi loved when you took on a hobby that he actually knew something about

~ It gave him an excuse to be even closer to you

~ To give you tips and tricks, to guide you, even teach you!

~ It gave him reason to be near you even more than usual

~ So you’ve got to understand that he was thrilled when you started sending him TikToks of face-cropped out people playing the guitar

~ Aside: you know, like the types of TikToks that are lowkey thirst traps; made in lowlight, the player zooming in precisely to their lower torso where the guitar is, as they slowly thrust their hips to the music? yeah, when you send him those, he gets giddy at the fact that you may find guitar players *cough*like him*cough* attractive

~ But he did end up offering to teach you how to play! Congrats, you got free private lessons :D

~ He convinces you to get a cheaper acoustic guitar to start with before jumping into the electric guitar—even though you had pouted at him at the guitar shop—as he said it was easier to learn the basics on an acoustic rather than an electric

~ Every free evening that you had, he would come to your apartment, guitar case strap over his shoulder with a cute baseball hat on to keep his promise of teaching you

~ He’d be so gentle with you, never raising his voice even when you made the same mistake ten times in a row

~ He didn’t frown when you forgot the chord that he had taught you from your last session, all he would do is gently move your fingers to the right position from behind you, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he did

~ Was that position necessary? No of course not

~ Could he have very well just shown you the chord on his own guitar from in front of you? Sure, he could have

~ But let him have this moment, will you?

~ He likes to pretend that he’d hugging you from behind

~ Let him be a little delusional, please and thank you

~ Day and day again, Yoongi would give you your lessons, and even after he’d leave late at night, you’d strum your fingers over the strings

~ This hobby quickly became the one that you spent the longest time fixating on

~ You weren’t able to put your (quickly callusing) finger on why it had become the hobby you stayed on the longest, but when Yoongi appeared with his gummy smile that evening, looking like a complete sweetheart, you think you were able to finally realize why

~ That night you played for him in one try, for the first time, the song he had been teaching you

~ Your vision was tunneled on your strings as you tried your hardest to make the man in front of you proud

~ You wanted to show him that his work on you had paid off

~ Not just how much time he’d spent on teaching you the guitar, but ALL the time he’d spent on you

~ Keeping up with your hobbies, sitting beside you when you fumbled with UV resin, allowing you to do makeup on him when you went through your makeup artist phase, buying you the expensive foreign yarn that you kept going on and on about

~ You wanted to show him that he didn’t waste his time on him, and maybe by playing this song for him, he’d realise just how much you appreciated him

~ And when you struck the final chord, and looked up at him, you were taken back by the glazed over look of his eyes, his lips shining in the LED lights you had put up when they were trending, affection clear in his expression

~ The two of you sat in the post-performance atmosphere, until you were lifting your guitar out of your lap, laying it down beside you, and shifted a bit closer to him

~ Placing a hand on the collar of the sweater you had made for him (it had quickly become one of his favourite things to wear), you waited to see if he’d pull away, but when he didn’t, you finally connected your lips to his

~ You may hop from one hobby to another, but if only one thing were to stay constant in your life, you hoped it would be him

Jung Hoseok

~ He would make you mixtapes/playlists

~ You met him through your university friend

~ One of them was a theatre major, and so had a few classes with the talented dance major that always performed at the school talent nights

~ When you’d gone to see your friend’s short story performance, you had been encapsulated in the ambience of the man who performed right before your friend went up

~ His movements were smooth, his expressions were haunting, the music paired with the way he seemed to blend in with the flashing lights and tempo, yet the way he still remained the focal point of the whole dance was captivating

~ And the best part is when he finished, chest heaving as he stood with his chin pointed up, head slightly tilted to the side, his expression was harsh just as the music had once been, harsh—that is—until the audience erupted into cheers and he broke into a huge smile

~ Shiny white teeth reflecting the stage lights back at the crowd, and as the MC came back on stage to thank the man (J-Hope, you learned from the lady) and just before he turned to walk off stage, he met your eyes, his eyes shining as he threw a wink your way

~ You felt so on the spot as the person sitting beside you turned to you, as he had noticed the display from J-Hope

~ You fiddled with the bouquet sitting in your lap

~ “Is that your boyfriend?” he asked, leaning over to you so you could hear him over your friend’s performance

~ “No,” you had replied, still embarrassed by the talented man’s wink, and the questioning by the uni student you’d never met before

~ “Well,” the guy leaned back into his seat, “maybe you should change that.”

~ Ah, the man thought you were in a situationship with him, or at the very least that the performer had interest in you

~ How are you supposed to explain to him that a lot of performers do similar things??? It’s not something unique just to you

~ You decided to just forget about the whole thing, trying to enjoy the performance so you could actually give your friend a compliment when you handed them the flowers you brought after the show

~ You tried your best, but other than getting a vague grasp of the plot, you couldn’t really remember any details, your brain still replaying the image of J-Hope winking at you

~ You clapped as hard as you could when your friend’s performance ended, watching them bow with their fellow actors and actresses

~ They caught your eye, happy to see you in the front row of the theatre, the first few rows reserved for the family and friends of the performers, they sent a happy wave to you before walking off stage

~ After another hour and a half, and the last few performances finished, you were able to go backstage to see your friend

~ You greeted them with a hug and then presented them with the bouquet of roses

~ “Aw, Y/n, you didn’t have to do this!” they said, as they gave you another hug

~ “You deserved it! You did so well today!” you smiled at them

~ “Aw, baby,” they said affectionately, “I love you so much!”

~ “Yeah yeah,” you waved them off from trying to pull you into yet another hug

~ They just linked their arms with you, pulling you through the crowd of performers you had been watching for the past few hours

~ They brought you to their friends, some of which you had already met through the friend who continued to press themselves against your side, your flowers clutched to their other side

~ “Y/n, I want you to finally meet my entire team! Everyone, this is Y/n!”

~ A chorus of hellos surrounded you, to which you politely replied

~ You made small talk with the people around you, that is until you heard someone clear their throat behind you

~ You and your friend turned as one (they did have quite the tight grip on you), and though you expected one of your friend’s friends, you weren’t prepared to see J-Hope standing behind you, a small grin on his face

~ You nearly took a step back, but your friend’s grip on you kept you in place

~ “Oh my god, hi J! I saw your performance out there! All the practice paid off, huh?” your friend asked the man who had not broken eye contact with you even once since you turned around

~ “Yeah, more than paid off, I’d say,” he said confidently

~ He tilted his head at you, “and who may this be? You dating or what? I see them a lot in your stories.”

~ Your friend’s face immediately turned red, as they turned to press their face into your shoulder in embarrassment, “No~” they dragged out the word, “We’re—We’re just friends, we umm—”

~ “That’s great,” J-Hope interrupted, uninterested in what your friend had to say further. “Does that mean I can finally follow this beauty on Instagram?”

~ Your friend was silent, their hold tight on you

~ The silence dragged on, until it finally set in that the handsome man in front of you was asking you out

~ “Oh! Uh, yeah, yeah you can,” your friend said reluctantly, when you didn't tell J-Hope off

~ You felt your friend’s grip on you disappear, as they slinked back to their friend group

~ “Amazing.” J-Hope smiled at you. He pulled out his phone and immediately opened up instagram, searching your username (no he didn’t ask you for it, yes he already had it memorized). He sent you a follow request (your instragram was private), and slipped his phone into his pocket

~ “Look forward to getting to know you better, Y/n.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake and you obliged

~ He turned to walk away from you, before calling over his shoulder, “Next time, make sure the bouquet is for me, alright? I like tulips”

~ He threw another wink at you, leaving you frozen to your spot, all alone

~ When you finally came to, you immediately pulled out your phone to apologize to your friend, and that you’d meet up with them at the restaurant you’d planned to go to together for their victory (so to speak) dinner

~ They just texted you to reschedule it for another time

~ You then opened up Instagram, accepting J-Hope’s (who you learned’s real name is Jung Hoseok, J-Hope being his stage name) request

~ As you scrolled through the profile, you got a dm: “Well, you accepted that fast 😚”

~ Another message flew in before you could even think to reply, “I hope that means I made a good impression 🤔”

~ You immediately felt embarrassed all over again, had you been too fast? Should you have waited for the morning to accept the request? Were you coming off as too eager? Did you seem desperate?!

~ Just as your finger began to move to block the man and all the troubles he had already begun to deploy on your psyche, another bubble popped up: “Just so you know… you made quite an impression on me too ☺️”

~ You sucked in a breath, and just hearted his message, and put away your phone

~ He seemed to have quite the love for dramatics

~ Over the next few days he continued to message you, with you only able to give him short replies and hearted messages—to be fair to you, it was hard to deal with a man with over 3500+ followers flirting with you day in and day out

~ You aren’t really able to get comfortable enough to really talk to him until he randomly, one day, sends you a link to a song

~ “Hey, this reminded me of you.”

~ It was not a song you were expecting, it was an instrumental piece, no words for you to know why exactly this song reminded him of you… but you liked it.

~ It seemed like a hopeful song, a little bit whimsical, a little hesitant, but overall positive.

~ You messaged him a full sentence for the first time that evening: “Thanks, I really liked it. I added it to my playlist <3”

~ Hoseok spent that whole night rereading your message, looking over the small heart emoji you sent

~ He considered this a step in the right direction, sending a screenshot of your message to his friends just for the group chat to erupt in messages to hype him up

~ Since that day, he routinely sent you songs in between his other messages, almost maneuvering you into feeling more comfortable speaking with him

~ The songs rarely seemed to match the ones he’d previously sent, the genres were always different, the mood always fluctuating, and it just made one very odd, hard to follow playlist

~ Yet, it still made your heart beat out of your chest when you played it

~ And it worked, as your playlist grew with the songs that he sent you, so did your feelings for the flirty, straightforward man

~ After many times of asking to meet you in person, you finally agreed to meet Hoseok for a date

~ You put on your best outfit and went to the flower shop at the corner by your apartment, before beginning your walk to the restaurant the two of you had agreed to meet at

~ (the same one you were supposed to go to with your ex-friend on the day you first met Hoseok—and, yes, ex-friend; you have no idea why they didn’t seem to want anything to do with you anymore…)

~ You rounded the corner to see him waiting by the entry of the restaurant, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, a dark button up with dress pants and shoes paired nicely with it, his mouth set in a slight frown

~ You walked up to him, and almost as though he could sense your presence, he turned right to you his frown instantly becoming a large smile, teeth and all

~ “Y/n,” he said softly, sounding almost relieved. He took a step towards you, before pulling you into a light hug, as though he was trying his hardest not to scare you away

~ He held on for a second, before taking a step back, scanning your face with a smile

~ You held out the flowers in front of you

~ “Tulips,” he said, accepting the bouquet from you. “You remembered.”

~ He brought them to his face, taking a small whiff, before pulling you in for another hug

~ “Thank you”

~ Maybe you should have been more put off by his touchy-ness considering this was only the second time you’d met him in person, but over the last few weeks of texting him, you didn’t feel uncomfortable at all

~ Not uncomfortable, but the butterflies in your stomach were very much making themselves known

~ “No worries,” you said

~ “Here, this is for you.” He held out a CD case decorated with colourful stickers of rainbow flowers, cartoon characters, and random cute objects

~ He had spelled out “to: Y/n” in sticker letters in one corner of the clear case, “from: Hoseok” in another

~ When you opened the case, you saw that he had written in red sharpie over the CD: “Hopefully: the first of many ♡ Our first official mixtape”

~ You traced over the stickers and letters on both the CD and the CD case, taken aback by the gift

~ “I burned the disc myself. I know it’s a bit of an outdated practice, but I hope you think it feels true to us.”

~ You just smiled up at him, “I love it, thank you, Hoseok.”

~ You pulled him in for a hug, the first ever hug you’ve given him

~ He felt shivers run down his back

~ After the incredible dinner, you went home and immediately put the CD on (after having dug through your closet for the old CD player, and making a huge mess of your room)

~ The songs were a mix of your favourites that he had sent you, and the other half were songs that you had recommended back to him

~ And as the songs filled the air, you sent him a picture of the CD player on your messy bed with all the clothes thrown on it

~ “The CD is wonderful,” you added along with the picture. “You’re wonderful. I’d love for there to be many more after this one <3”

~ Hoseok sent the screenshot to his group chat, and Taehyung was the loudest amongst all the cheers

~ “You owe me big time for telling Y/n that they should date you that day! 😤”

Kim Namjoon

~ He writes you poetry

~ He is a book worm through and through, so he tends to send you excerpts from his favourite books

~ Whether it be poetry, prose, or anything else

~ A dialogue from a movie

~ A sentence from a youtube video

~ A screenshot from instagram

~ No matter what medium, if it’s a piece of writing that reminded him of you, he sends it to you

~ It started off with poetry that was innocent enough, poetry about humans, the universe, the stars, our place in the middle of this gigantic mess that was left behind from the big bang

~ At the beginning, the writings are very philosophical

~ That is, until it isn’t

~ Slowly but surely, the poems change from ones that relate more to the state of the world, the route in which the world is going, poems about human nature to then being about the relations amongst humans, the intimate nature of growing with someone, being with someone

~ At first they seem to insinuate only of two like-minded souls coming together in a shared existence, but not necessarily one that was romantic

~ But then the poetry does turn into something more romantic

~ Talks of twin flames

~ Snippets of greek mythology that spoke of how humans were made in pairs until Zeus split them to be in twos—separated forever—waiting and looking for their other half—their soulmate

~ These poems are at first more abstract, two people without names, without “me” and “you” appearing in the words, until they just one day are

~ One day the poems change from the concept of love, to very direct professions of love

~ Poems that start with the word “I” and end with the word “you” with the various synonyms and phrases that denote “love” sprinkled in between them

~ You would never know that some of these quotes, writings that he shares, are pieces he’s written directly for you

~ From the beginning, the occasional message was not one he happened to stumble upon on the web, or a quote he found particularly intriguing in his current book

~ No

~ Sometimes, they were from him

~ His feelings for you, written in his google doc, the document filled only with his feelings about you, the words he wrote while thoughts and images of you circled around his head like a lovestruck character from an old cartoon

~ Sure, in the beginning, the poems were more frequently from other sources than himself, but as he slowly shifted his topics for poetry, as he got bolder with his underlying declarations of love—his own poetry document became his main source of vocables to send to you

~ You should be scared with this gradual change to this feeling of love that you’re getting from someone you consider a friend, but with the gradual change in the screenshots of scenes from movies displaying subtitles of love, to pictures of underlined quotes in the book he’s reading, to the posts with delicate poetry forwarded to you, pictures of a laptop screen that you were beginning to become all too familiar with; in that same gradual way, your feelings for him changed too

~ From something more platonic, more abstract, more open-ended

~ To something much more romantic, defined, and unchanging

~ With the small declarations of love he’s dusted into your inbox over the last few seasons

~ He’s slowly, but deliberately made his way into your heart

~ Maybe it’s time you wrote him something too

Park Jimin

~ He always helped you out during the harsh winters

~ Well he helped you out during most of the year really, he’d mow your lawn, he’d ask you if you’d rather he take your dog out for a walk with his, so you could relax in the morning

~ In the spring he’d tell you about the best native wildflowers you could sow in your garden

~ He’d help you deal with any blown over garbage that had stayed hidden under the snow that had only made itself known when the snow had finally melted

~ He’d walk up your porch just to give you some of the cookies that he had made just moments ago

~ Telling you, when you opened the door, how he needed a taste tester to truly know whether the cookies were made just right

~ “I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of my coworkers tomorrow at the potluck,” he’d say with a closed eyes smile

~ He also told you how he was pretty late to welcoming you to the neighbourhood as you had moved in early spring and it had already become hot outside

~ Just accept the cookies, dear, he spent the last two days on them

~ So it was less that he was helping you out during the winter times (that had yet to come), but more so that he was such a kind and helpful neighbour that he had eventually grown so close to you through these various small favours, that he had practically become a part of your home life

~ During the summer, he’d mow your lawn for you when he’d do his, only accepting a cup of lemonade from you, and nothing more in return

~ When you’d be tending to your flower garden in front of your house, he’d give you tips over the fence, telling you how he tended to his rose bush and the best pruning methods for the hydrangeas that you had

~ When you’d be in your backyard, picking ripe tomatoes from the vine, guiding your cucumber vines up the wooden frame Jimin had helped you put together, and/or just sunbathing on a lawn lounger, Jimin would peek over the fence and make small talk until you just called him over to make the conversation easier to carry

~ He’d be quick to rush over, bringing his pup to mingle with yours; they both had become pretty close following their shared walks together

~ You watched the dogs chase each other around your backyard as you and Jimin laid down on the loungers and basked in the sun

~ (with plenty of sunscreen of course, Jimin would never let you get skin cancer—he’s sweet like that, just lay on your stomach and let him rub the cream in, don’t pay much mind to any wandering hands)

~ In fall, he helped you rake all the leaves, not allowing you to do anything more than jumping into the big pile at the end of the hour

~ He would jump in following you, right on top of you, causing you to hold him close to keep from becoming crushed by him entirely

~ Your dogs were barking around the two of you, confused by the two of you disappearing into the center of the leaf pile

~ They continued to circle around the pile, pawing at the leaves they could reach until the two of you burst out of the leaves like freshly assembled viruses lysing out of a cell

~ He helped you put up your Halloween decorations, and helped you sew your costume together

~ Since you lived right beside together, you paired together to make a common theme between the two houses, and handed out candy together on Halloween night

~ When the late fall rain started, and your gutters were clogged with fallen leaves, he leant you his ladder and guided you on how to clear out the drainage, making sure you didn’t waste your money on hiring a roofer to clear them out when he could just help you do it himself

~ Plus you made him dinner in return! A win-win in his books, if you ask him

~ When winter struck, and the snow finally began to fall, he didn’t let you use your brand new shovel even once on your own, always out in the driveway before you are even able to put on your gloves

~ “I already finished mine! I’ll help out with yours if you’ll make me a cup of hot chocolate in return?”

~ Obviously you agree, a helping hand from your handsome, handy neighbour which saves you time and energy? Yes, please

~ When the snow got too heavy for you to drive to the grocery store safely, Jimin would knock on your door, take notes off your grocery list, and go on the behalf of both of you

~ He’d call you from the grocery store no less than three times to make sure he chose the right type of milk that you had wanted, because god forbid you got the wrong brand of oat milk because of him!

~ How else would you be able to see how he’d be such a dependable husband?!

~ When he finally would text you in the parking lot of the grocery store that he’s on his way back

~ He’d be giddy to see you standing in your driveway, bundled up in a long jacket, a large scarf, and red and white striped mittens, waiting with a cold nose to help him bring in the groceries

~ Every Saturday, after the grocery store trip, you’d make him dinner to repay him for his help, because even though you always paid him back for the things he bought you, you always felt that he deserved something more

~ You’d always end up in your living room, watching a random rom com together after finishing your dinner

~ The one night that led to the two of you finally acknowledging the feelings you had gained for him had been a stormy night

~ A blizzard had swept over the city, laying a meter of snow over the whole area

~ You were practically buried in

~ You were faring pretty well, until in the middle of the night, your house lost power

~ You hoped it would come back soon, but when it didn’t come back in an hour, you ended up calling Jimin

~ It took three tries for him to actually pick up the phone. “Hello? I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

~ “Hmm? Y/n? No, no, I’m awake,” he yawned, obviously just woken up. “What’s wrong?”

~ “Jimin, I have no power… It’s been over an hour… I’m getting a bit scared.”

~ “...Give me a second, I’ll be right over.”

~ He waited for you to open the door to your house, looking around the neighbourhood. He noticed that all the lights were out, even the streetlights.

~ When you finally opened up the door, all wrapped up in a blanket, eyes a bit teary, he had to stop himself from scooping you up in his arms and comforting you

~ Instead he just told you to bundle up and bring anything you need, plus your dog over to his house

~ He waited in the foyer as you put on your jacket and picked up some things that you needed, your dog laying obediently beside his booted feet

~ Your house had seriously cooled down in the two hours since you’d lost power, it seriously was cold outside

~ You looked like a marshmallow in your puffed up jacket, and he had to bite back his smile (not that you’d see it in the dark anyways)

~ He brought you over to his house, that miraculously had power

~ “I have a generator,” he explained. “You’ll be warm and safe here.”

~ You had to stop yourself from sobbing in thanks, instead just nodding your head

~ He brought you and your dog up to his guest bedroom, giving you some extra blankets just in case

~ “Call me if you need anything, okay?” he said

~ You nodded from the center of the bed, all wrapped up in blankets with both your and his dogs lying on top of the blankets with you

~ “Thank you, Jimin, for everything.” You could feel yourself choking up. “I don’t know what I would’ve done all year without you. I would be okay in the cold, but my pup—”

~ You broke down in sobs, Jimin immediately rushing back to you from the doorway to pull you into his chest on the bed

~ “Hey, hey, don’t cry. I’m here. I’m here. You, our dogs, me, we’re all safe. Don’t you cry, please, don’t cry.”

~ He rocked you in his arms until you calmed down, almost instantly melting in his arms

~ “Can you stay with me here tonight?” you asked, scared to look at him as you asked

~ “Of course”

~ He pulled you to lay back down in the bed, pushing the blankets up to lay beside you. You immediately pushed yourself back into his chest

~ “Seriously, thank you, Jimin,” you whispered into the dark, warm room

~ “Don’t thank me, I wouldn't have done it any other way”

Kim Taehyung

~ He was always the one to notice when you fell into a slump (and pull you out of it)

~ When you’ve been having a bad time, stuck studying or doing overtime at work, never able to fully just go back home without immediately opening up your laptop and tip-tapping away, he always manages to realize you’ve fallen into the “productivity” hole and comes knocking at your door with dinner in hand and a bottle to calm your nerves

~ If you weren’t responding properly for one day, he’d let it be, it may not be one of your productivity ruts, but if it had been nearing 48 hours since you replied to him, or messaged in the group chat with your guys’ friend group, or if he called you and you didn’t pick up, that’s when he would begin to assume that you were in your rut again.

~ While the rest of your friends didn't really ever notice that you were absent, at least not enough to draw concern, Tae would notice a little too quickly

~ Tae would realize before you did yourself

~ “Your do-not-disturb is on again, isn’t it?” was his ‘greeting’ when you opened the door for him

~ This was not an unexpected appearance, he had once again realized your state of mind

~ For what was the second time this month, probably the twentieth time this year, Tae had come to help you relax

~ The only friend you could truly rely on to help you

~ “...yeah, I’m sorry.” You closed the door behind him, watching him slip out of his shoes and into the slippers you kept around for him

~ He immediately walked into your kitchen, setting the bottle and food on your countertop, before heading straight to your home office

~ He shut down your laptop, closed the curtains, and blew out the eucalyptus “calming” candle that you only really burned in moments like these

~ “Tae… I should finish my report.”

~ He closed the door, before pulling you back into living room with him

~ “You can do that tomorrow, now just sit and relax.”

~ He sat you down on the couch, taking your tv remote and putting on the latest episode of the show the two of you had been watching together

~ He throws a blanket at you and then brings you guys the food he brought

~ When the food is all done, and a bit too much alcohol consumed, you let you head rest on his shoulder, his arm instantly coming around to hold you

~ “Taehyung, why do you always come here?” you asked

~ “I thought you could use some distractions from your work.” His hand smoothing over your deltoid soothingly

~ You wish he had said something different, something more selfish

~ “Is that all?” You shift against him to look at his expression, his eyes finally meeting yours

~ Was this the moment that the both of you finally vocalized the clear love you had for each other?

~ Tae sure hoped it was

~ “Do you want there to be another reason?”

~ You didn’t have a good answer for him, stuck between wanting to tell him how deeply you had grown to care for him and the worries that you had become a burden to him

~ A burden who always needed to be taken care of

~ You worried that you had become something that he resented, or would grow to resent

~ Tae brought you closer to him, his arm shifting from your upper arm, to instead curl around your waist, pulling you up to be level with him

~ “Y/n,” he purred. “Do you want me to have ulterior motives?”

~ Your mind was filled with worry that though he may care for you now, would he still care for you when you would go MIA again?

~ You exes hadn’t, they had all eventually grown tired of having to deal with your troubles with productivity

~ But Tae was different

~ It had already been months of your constant cycles of falling into “productive” spurts and pushing everyone away, and then realizing that you had and apologizing to everyone you’d ignored

~ And while your friends’ would be a bit irritated, Tae would always just be glad that he’d been able to bring you back to life (so to speak)

~ He never made you feel bad about the way you were, instead just be happy to have you back

~ Maybe, he’d be different

~ No, he was different

~ “Would it be bad, if I said yes? Would you come to regret having to deal with me?” You brought a hand up to cup his cheek, your thumb coming up to pass just below the beauty mark under his eye

~ He only leaned his head into your touch, pulling you even closer to him

~ “I could never regret anything that had to do with you.” He brought you into his lap, pressing his face into your shoulder, a small kiss pressed to the side of your neck

~ “Just let me take care of you.” He mumbled into your neck. “And take care of me too.”

~ It was time that you returned the solicitude

Jeon Jungkook

~ He helps you learn how to workout at the gym

~ When you had started to go to the gym in your apartment building, you were very lost, overwhelmed at all the choices for machines, weights, and workout plans

~ Since this was only a gym in the basement of the building that you lived in, there weren’t any personal trainers who could help you come out with a work out plan

~ On top of that, it seemed like only a handful of people came down here anyway, as more often than not, the gym would be empty

~ The only proof that someone else did some down here being the shifted weights and the changed settings on the cardio machines

~ The emptiness was nice to someone who was just starting out their workout journey like you

~ But it was both a blessing and a curse

~ A blessing because nobody would see you fumble about with the machines, unsure of how to use them or how to get in the right position to actually work out the muscles that they were supposed to

~ A curse because you were often lost and had no one you could ask for help

~ You didn’t dare to do any heavy lifting, because you knew how important having a spot was when you did, and you didn’t want to end up getting crushed under your bar as you tried to bench press

~ So you stuck to light weights, and more cardio than anything else

~ You usually worked out in the mornings, but one day, you had woken up late and considering you had to go to work, you decided it’d be better to go work out after

~ So after a long day, you pushed yourself to go down to the gym downstairs, telling yourself the workout could be half an hour, but you were gonna workout no matter your aching body

~ You were surprised to find someone actually working out there

~ A man with a sleeve full of tattoos on full display due to his oversized, short-sleeved white tee

~ A pair of gray sweats with the bottoms slightly pulled up his calves a bit, as though he’d pulled them up to prevent the loose fabric from getting in the way

~ He was doing some pullups on a bar, facing away from you, but he looked over his shoulder when he heard you enter, his arm muscles rippling beside his face as he did

~ “Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

~ He just grunted in response, dropping down from the bar, and wiping his neck with a towel that he had set aside, his lip ring glinting in the gym lights

~ “Don’t apologize, you’re not interrupting anything,” he took a drink from his water bottle before moving to lay down on the bench press, it seemed he had already set up his weights, and all you could do was watch in awe as he pressed what was equivalent to your weight like it was nothing

~ He noticed you watching him from his laid position

~ “What? Not gonna workout?”

~ His words jumped you into action, instantly walking away from him to the stair climber that you usually began your workouts with

~ Thankfully, you were facing away from the man, so you couldn’t be anymore distracted by the lean man behind you

~ But the grunts—my god—how were you supposed to focus on your workout when even through your music, you could hear his groans as he lifted and lowered the weights to his chest

~ This was so different from working out by yourself!

~ You just turned up your music and tried to get through your 5 minutes of climbing

~ When you finished and moved to the leg press (it was leg day after all), you put on some weights (a safe amount that you were sure wouldn’t hurt you) and settled into position, your legs lifted up in position

~ You released the plate, and began the workout just as the man sat up for a break

~ You could feel him watching you, as you did your reps, his eyes scanning your body from top to bottom

~ You saw him stand up, coming up to stand beside you

~ “You’re going to hurt yourself doing that.”

~ “Huh?” you said, with a breath, sweat dripping down your temple

~ “You’re gonna break your knees locking them like that”

~ He helped you lock the plate again, before explaining further

~ “You’re locking your knees with every push. When you do leg presses, you’re not meant to extend your legs fully, you’re only gonna cause damage to your knees.” He motioned you to get up from your seat, before taking your place. “See how I do it. I bring my knees down almost entirely to my chest, right?”

~ You nodded, watching his demonstration.

~ “Then when I extend my legs, I only go this far, my legs don’t go completely straight like yours. Do you see the difference?” His brown eyes on you, as he pointed down at his legs. “Okay, now you try.”

~ You settled back in position, as he stood beside you, arms crossed over his chest

~ You followed his advice, doing one rep to show him, as he nodded in approval, “better”

~ “While we’re at it, here,” he brought his hand down to your lower abdomen, pushing your back against the machine, “when you push, you should avoid moving your hips forward, otherwise it won’t hit your quads, hamstrings, and glutes. You should feel it here,” he traced over your thighs with his index finger very lightly

~ “Try again but using your legs only, not your back”

~ You did another rep, instantly feeling the burn in your upper legs a lot more than before, “fuck!”

~ He laughed, “yeah, you feel it now, huh?”

~ “Yeah,” you struggled to say, locking the plate again. Letting your head fall back to the seat. “I’m gonna have to lower the weights now, I think. It’s a lot harder like this. Thanks for the advice though”

~ “No problem, you’ll grow your thighs in no time now.” He went back to the back presse, letting you go back to your workout. “Just would hate to see you hurt yourself, sweets”

~ You smiled at him, as he laid back down

~ When you left the gym, an half an hour later than you planned to

~ He called out to you, “if you ever need any other advice, I always come down here at 7pm and I’m usually here ‘til 9. Don’t hesitate, alright? I could use a workout partner, and if you ever need a spot, I’m here”

~ You took him up on his offer the following week, as you went down at 7pm sharp to see him setting up for his session

~ He smiled up at you from his position near the floor, setting up some weights, “Thought I’d never see you again, sweets.” He straightened up from the floor. “Thought I’d scared you away”

~ “No, no, I was just busy with work. Finally got some time today, couldn’t turn down a workout partner” you didn’t dare to tell him that you were just unsure whether it would be appropriate to actually start working out with him

~ He hummed in response, “let’s get started then, shall we?”

~ Over the next few months, he taught you how to use the machines more effectively and safely

~ He set up a better weekly routine that would work with you, which mirrored his, but with lower weights

~ He also grinned proudly when nearly a year later, you were showing him your progress pictures and flexing your arms in front of him, flexing your arms just like he’d shown you

~ You’d become quite close as you spent roughly two hours together every evening

~ “Goodness, Kookie, I would never get so ripped if it weren’t for you”

~ He pushed you away from him with a laugh, a blush on his face (he was a lot shyer than he originally seemed with his instructor persona)

~ “You still got a lot further to go, if you want to get anywhere near me” he teased you, referencing the one time you’d joked that you planned to become more muscular than him

~ “Oh stopppp!” you pushed him right back, your hands lingering on him even when you didn’t mean to

~ You had grown massive feelings for the tattooed man that was your workout partner

~ and you were sure that he did too, considering how many times you caught his eyes lingering on you when you worked out, his eyes darting away every time you caught him, blushing as he went back to his reps

~ And the fact that he would still readjust your position even though you very well by now knew the correct way

~ Or how he’d make you lay your hand over a muscle that he were focusing on during his workout, just so you’d feel the muscle move underneath your palm

~ Like, seriously, you don’t think he needed you to press your hand against his bare abs while he did his twenty different types of crunches for a full hour

~ Oh also, did I mention that he took to working out without a shirt a lot more after he began working out with you? Yeah, exactly, that man was definitely trying to get you to fall for him

~ Well, to be fair, you had started to pick out nicer work out clothes too… so take that as you will

~ And you couldn’t forget the one time, he’d jokingly (so he claimed) asked you if you’d like a different form of cardio to warm up before your workouts when you’d told him of what Henry Cavill does for cardio

~ You had laughed to hide the way your eyes were probably screaming yes

~ After another few months of him holding your waist as you did weighted squats, guiding you from behind, and him asking you to sit on his back while he did push ups and planks, and a hundred different ways you both found excuses to keep your hands and body on one another, you decided enough was enough

~ You took the elevator down at 6:30pm to his floor, and for the first time stood in front of his apartment door (he’d told you his floor and apartment number around the time you first met)

~ You rang the bell, hearing a soft “coming” from behind the door until he stood in front of you, shirtless and with his tattoos and piercings on full display

~ Goodness, his lip ring, looked incredible, you couldn’t wait to tug it in between your teeth

~ “Y/n?” he questioned, clearly confused to see you in your workout clothes and in front of his door so early

~ “Hey, Kookie,” you traced your nails down his chest, before stopping at his abs, “I was thinking that, maybe, we could try out Henry Cavill’s cardio warm-up, if you want of course…”

~ His eyes flashed with shock, before his mouth slowly grew into a smile, his hand coming around to pull you into his apartment by the small of your back

~ “Fuck, sweets, I thought you’d never ask”

I hoped you liked it! Please comment and reblog, or else I'm going to cry :D

#bts x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #yandere jin x reader #yandere yoongi x reader #yandere hoseok x reader #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere jimin x reader #yandere taehyung x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #series: love amour aur pyaar #ev's writing

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cordeliawhohung · 20 days

Note

i literally always interact with ur posts and i always try to initiate some sort of friendship but you dont !!!! idk

so, it's rather unfortunate that i feel like i have to explain myself even though i know i don't have to, but i'm going to anyway because this will eat me alive if i don't and i'm gonna set healthy boundaries here.

first, thank you for your continued support of my posts. interaction makes the site go round, and all that. but this comment feels really... transactional.

i feel like i do a really good job at interacting with people who comment and whatnot on my posts. i answer asks, i enjoy the silly ones and the serious ones, i try to be fun, be funny, be kind, be engaging, be myself, be whatever. and frankly, i don't think i understand what more you're wanting from me. i respond to a majority of comments on my posts! i sort of pride myself with how often i interact with people on here despite my busy life! if you're in my notifs often, there's probably already a decent chance i enjoy seeing you pop up, and enjoy responding to you, and enjoy engaging with you, and probably even consider you a friend if we speak often in comments, etc.

it's really hard to tell exactly what you're wanting me to do based off of this very vague ask, but if you're like, wanting to dm with me or something i'm sorry. i'm like the worst person ever when it comes to dms. i work 10 hour shifts. i have family to take care of, a mortgage to pay for etc etc. ask any of my moots, i literally never dm. i leave people on read quite often because i'm just so bad at it. i'm busy all the time and it gets overwhelming. so if you've got some sort of fomo going on that i'm part of something more than just my silly posts or anything, i promise you there's nothing you're missing out on.

which is why i stick to comments. replying to stuff. mainly engaging on posts. answering asks. etc. i'm literally giving everyone all the energy i have to give already. on top of writing!!!!

and this is going to sound really cunty, but also realize that just because you interact with someone, that doesn't mean they owe you anything. and this doesn't just go for me, but literally everyone on this site. they don't owe you a reply, or a thank you, or a comment, or anything. and that sucks but that's literally how life works. not everything is a series of transactions. everyone has their reasons that dictate why they may or may not respond or initiate what you want from them. but that's what this asks feels like. wanting something from me. wanting more than what i've been giving. wanting something i mentally, and emotionally can't provide given my circumstances.

i literally love everyone who positively interacts with me, so this feels like a punch to the gut, knowing someone thinks that i'm not doing enough by not catering to some very vague and impossible to know need. i'm not a mind reader!

sorry if this sounded short, but i'm wanting to make my boundaries very clear here. i am so so grateful for everyone who interacts with my stuff, and i show my love by responding as best as i can. most of my friendships on this site are formed by interactions that way. asking anything more from me is something i simply cannot give you.

also, anon asks will be turned off AGAIN after i post this because just on the off chance this is not received well, i'm not opening myself up to anon hate lmao.

#core responds #writeblr #please i am tired #i just wanna write my stupid stories and interact about our silly blorbos in comments/rbs #idk what more i can do to make y'all happy

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hobiebrownismygod · 3 months

Note

(today is a day for ideas, good Jesus)

This is like my third ask today but I have so many ideas and I have to write them down or I'll forget. Sorry you have to face the blunt of it. This request is kinda sad, that's also my fault

Hobie Brown x reader but where reader had a crush on him but Hobie never seemed to notice but after she gets fed up with it and moves on. After she does this she's much more natural and sure of herself because she's not trying to impress him anymore, that's when he starts to fall for her too.

Please tell me someone else can even slightly see this vision

Thank you, take as long as you need

And I hope you a happy time

I'm gonna turn this request into a two-part fic because I don't think I'll be able to get the whole plot into one lol 😭 thank you for requesting!!

Forgotten Girl Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader Part 1/2

Synopsis: You got tired of running after someone who wasn't interested, so you stopped...only for him to gain interest right afterwards.

WC: <;1k

TW: unedited, somewhat angst/pining, femreader

Taglist: @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558 @sunasslut69 @ask-1610-miles @axels-garden @s6onder

PREV|NEXT(Coming soon)

TAGLIST ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── MASTERLIST

He never noticed you. No matter how many times you made eye contact with him, waved at him, batted your eyes at him, put your hand on his shoulder, giggled at one of his stupid jokes, he never ever seemed to realize you were there.

Of course...he noticed you...but he didn't notice you. His head never turned when you walked into the room, he never looked at you longer than he had to, and worst of all, he called you his mate.

The most platonic term you could call someone.

Mate.

Never darling, never love, never sweetheart.

Mate.

"Oi, whatcha doin' there mate?"

You snapped your head to the side to see none other than Hobie Brown, looking over your shoulder with a slight smile on his face, squinting to read the words on the page of the book you were reading.

You flinched forward slightly, not having expected him, before giving him an awkward smile. "Just reading. You?"

"Just watching you." he replied with a friendly grin before glancing back towards where he'd come from. "You haven't seen Gwendy or Pav around anywhere, have you?"

Your expression deflated. "I think I saw Gwen walk past a couple minutes ago. She was heading towards Miguel's room." You said softly, looking back down at your book and crossing your legs together, trying to bite back the waver appearing in your voice.

"Mmm." he nodded, looking back over his shoulder at you. "You here all by y'self?"

"Yep. All by myself." You said as you cleared your throat. His expression softened slightly and he walked back over towards you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his vest. "You alright?"

"Fine. Why do you ask?" You tried to avoid his eyes, keeping your head buried in your book.

"I just-" He hesitated, "I don't think I've ever talked to you alone before. You're acting a bit...shy."

"I'm not shy." You mumbled, glaring back up at him. "Of course not." He replied, shooting you a sly grin. "Can't blame me for wondering though. You barely say a word to me, so I can't read y'like I can all the others."

"I talk to you often."

"Really?"

"I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?"

He chuckled deeply, looking down and shaking his head for a moment. "Cheeky." You felt your face heat up and you immediately looked back down, clearing your throat. "Hobie?"

"Yeah?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at you playfully.

"You ever thought about being in a relationship?" You asked awkwardly.

"Wot?" He blinked, a smile spreading across his face. "Where'd that come from?"

You clasped your hands together with an embarrassed expression, staring straight at the ground. "I dunno. Just did."

"Well...I s'pose. I never really thought about it. I don't think anyone'd have me to be honest." He laughed. "What about you, mate?"

"I'm sure someone'd take you." You replied, ignoring how he shot your question back at you. "I mean, look at you." You immediately swallowed, looking back down as the weight of your words suddenly collapsed onto your shoulders.

He didn't seem to notice, simply laughing and nodding. "I am a bit of a looker, aren't I?" He teased, standing up straight. "It's all part of the Spider-punk charm." he winked.

"I agree." you smiled gently, looking up at him. You were being fairly obvious at this point, but he still didn't seem to be taking the hint.

That was how it'd always been. It was like he couldn't dream of being with you. He never seemed to notice your badly-disguised glances and awkward giggles. The way you'd adjust your suit when he walked by, looking down at the ground when he was in front of you and almost always refusing to make eye contact.

It was so obvious and still wouldn't realize.

In fact, the conversation was beginning to get tiring. The two of you simply continued, with your attempts at flirting quickly being shut down by how normal he was being.

"I think you'd make a great partner." You'd say, giving him a crystal clear smile, only to be met with a, "Oh definitely. Whoever I end up with is gonna be lucky."

The conversation would continue on...

"Very lucky. I'd kill to be in their position."

"Ha! You're a funny one, mate."

There was nothing you could do in response besides nod and smile, silently begging for some sort of escape. It was so embarrassing that you just couldn't handle it anymore.

And this happened every damn time.

Honestly...was there even a point anymore? It was starting to look like he'd never catch your drift.

Maybe he knew. Maybe he just didn't like you that way.

Yes, that was probably it. There's no way a normal person wouldn't be able to take a hint so obvious...he just wasn't interested.

Sad. But understandable.

"Weren't you looking for Gwen and Pav?" You said quickly, interrupting him. He raised a brow slightly, his expression lighting up. "Oh, right! I'll go find them then. See you around, mate."

He tipped his head towards you and gave you a smile. You returned it, your expression immediately dropping the moment he turned away. You watched his lanky figure leave, releasing your breath in a long deep sigh.

There was no point.

It just...wasn't meant to be.

He didn't notice you.

And he never would.

119 notes · View notes

shimmershy · 11 months

Text

There's Only One Thing Left to Say, This Time (Undertale Fanfic)

New fanfic time! When I started writing this, I got the idea mostly because 1. I've been having trouble "moving on" from things in my own life recently and wanted to try processing it through fic and 2. it was the end of the school year for me and I had been saying a lot of goodbyes, so it felt thematically relevant. I wrote almost the entire thing impulsively at like three am a couple weeks ago and really impressed myself lol.

Chara Week Day 7: Free (I know it's over, but shhhh it still counts)

Summary:

You're having trouble saying goodbye, but the thing is that you don't have to! If you keep Resetting just before it's all over, you'll never have to be by yourself again. Right? You haven't known them long, and maybe they weren't super nice at the start, but they were there for you every step of the way. They listened to you and helped you when no one else would. You can't just let them disappear… You can't. ...But you can't keep doing this forever, Frisk. You have to let me go.

Characters: Chara and Frisk

Word count: 4,763 words

(Ao3 link in reblog!)

There's only one thing left to say this time,

I hope you're fine, goodbye.

– “Goodbye” by The Altogether

It isn’t until the third True Reset that I realize what this is all about, and when I do, I feel silly for not realizing it before.

I can still feel the way the bitterness worked its way under my skin the first time you brought everyone back. Which, is actually quite impressive on your part! Seeing as I don’t have skin anymore. I suppose it worked its way under your skin, then, because you wouldn’t stop apologizing to me in your head as you made your way through the Ruins. I should have been the one apologizing to you, Frisk. It’s no business of mine what you do with your own life, and you have no business feeling my emotions for me. This connection we have can be troubling, at times.

Still, it felt like a betrayal, and you offered me no explanation, so I could not understand.

I understood a little better when you decided to stay with Toriel for a while. Despite my obvious frustration and impatience, you sat and listened to her snail facts. You let her show you that bug-hunting spot she mentioned, and you spent time helping her run errands and letting her teach you how to cook. You even got to the point where she started giving you classes, as if you planned on staying. I assumed it was sentimentality, then. Perhaps there was something about the Underground that you didn’t want to leave behind. Maybe you weren’t ready to go back to living on the surface just yet. It’s not as if I could blame you for that one.

What I didn’t notice (and what I am noticing now), was how much attention you were giving me. And well, it’s not that I didn’t notice. I was just too busy being annoyed about it, and rightfully so. Can’t the narrator of your life narrate in peace? I do not care for superfluous conversation. And that’s not even the worst of it. Frisk, you should not be so casual about sharing control of your body, That’s like, the one thing you should never have to share. Sure, it happened one time, but I only stepped in because you were so afraid, and I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was me that the spears were getting shot at. That’s different. I will not take control of your body just to eat a slice of pie. Your pity for me is insulting.

What’s troubling is that it doesn't seem to be going away.

You take your first shivering step into Snowdin (for the fourth time, I can’t help but note) without so much as a glance behind you. This time, you left Toriel with no hesitation, and I know it’s because you know I didn’t want to stay. You’re not even trying to hide it. This is when I finally decide it’s time to confront you.

What are you doing? I ask.

“I’m…walking?” you respond, confused, through thoughts. Your boots crunch satisfyingly through the snow to prove your point. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I huff in frustration.

Frisk. Why do you keep Resetting?

This stops you (and your crunchy boots) in your tracks, and suddenly I can feel anxiety radiating off of you. You weren’t expecting me to ask you this directly.

When you don’t respond, I continue, a little bit of venom coating my words despite my best efforts. For the third time now, you have made it to the end, broken the barrier, only to start all over again. Do you not feel even the slightest bit of remorse?

“Of course I feel bad!” you’re quick to say, as if you’re surprised I would assume otherwise. “But…we’ll still get there again in the end; it’s not that big a deal.”

That’s a horrible excuse.

“Why’re you so angry about it?” Your voice comes out sharp in the frigid air.

Why are you so stubborn?

“What’re you even talking about?!”

You’re trying to delay the inevitable.

You’re about to debate me on that, too, in a defensive way rather than a genuinely angry way. But you stop, because you suddenly understand that I understand, and the anxiety returns. You continue walking after a brief hesitation.

Goodbyes are never easy, I say, as gently as I can. (It ends up sounding forced anyway.)

You ignore me, and I allow you to.

~~~

What are you going to do once you get back to the surface? Once you decide to stay?

You’ve made it to Waterfall at this point, having made it through Snowdin without much event. You’re getting a little tired of doing the same thing every time; I can tell, but you would never admit to it.

You kick a stone on the ground, watching as it disappears into the dark grass. “I dunno.” (“I dunno-”) (“-dunno-”)

Your own voice travels around you in echoes and fragments. You really shouldn’t talk out loud like this in the middle of all these echo flowers. Number one, it’s annoying, and that should be reason enough, but number two, you shouldn’t make a habit of talking out loud to the voice in your head at all. People are going to think you’re weird. And I mean, you’re already pretty weird, but do you really want the reputation of “the weird kid who talks to themself” stuck to you even after I’m gone?

I didn’t even realize you were listening to all that, but you flinch at that last part, not only mentally but physically too, and I try to ignore the fact that you’re proving my point.

I hum thoughtfully. You “don’t know”? That’s certainly an issue then, isn’t it?

You start to fidget with the hem of your sweater and return to talking to me through thoughts, much to my relief. “I just haven’t thought much about it.”

This is a lie. But I don’t point that out to you.

You’re in a part of Waterfall that you’ve never seen before. Admittedly, it’s not much different to the parts you have seen before, but the fact that it’s new at all is good enough for you. You’re trying to explore the area as much as you can this time around, because you’ve realized just how expansive Waterfall really is and the curiosity you came here with the first time still hasn’t left you. You’ve barely seen a fraction of the place, and you definitely won’t manage to see all of it, but you’re certainly going to try.

I might take this time to remind you that no matter how many times you’ve befriended her in the past, Undyne is still hunting you down in this timeline. So maybe taking the time to look at every blade of grass there is to look at isn’t the best idea. But whatever.

There are quite a few echo flowers growing in this area, as I mentioned before. It seems more secluded than the rest of the caverns that make up Waterfall, if that’s even possible. You can see the main path you usually walk from where you’re standing, separated from you by a large expanse of luminescent cyan water, and an overwhelming sense of calm washes over you. It’s like this is a little cove carved out just for you, safe from everything that may hurt you. It’s hard for me not to feel the same sense of calm. Whether it’s just the spilling over of your emotions or completely and entirely mine is hard to tell, but it doesn’t really matter.

Why don’t we sit here for a minute? I ask. You let out a breath and descend to the ground, hugging your knees and resting your head against the rough cavern walls without hesitation, as if you were waiting for me to say just that.

It’s nice to just be here, for me, with you, like this. Together. Your hands are intertwined in the way that I know means you’re trying to hold my hand, in whatever way you can. We look out at the stillness of the water, listening to the sound of rushing waterfalls in the distance. We both must be thinking about the same thing, now, because although I don’t agree with the Resets, I understand why you don’t want to leave, to some extent. Have you convinced me that you’re right? Have I felt this way the entire time and simply didn’t realize until now? I can’t say for certain. But I’m becoming increasingly aware of my own fear of reaching the end.

“Chara?” you say, voice cracking a little. The sound of my name spoken aloud and echoed around by the echo flowers startles me. “It’s just that…I really, really don’t wanna be by myself again.”

I feel tears pricking at your eyes. The honesty in your voice stings.

You won’t be by yourself, I try halfheartedly. Everyone will be up there with you.

You reposition to rest your head on your knees. “You know what I mean,” you whisper, and after a moment you say. “You’re not gonna be there.”

…Right. Of course.

That is the funny thing about good things, see. About journeys and stories. And lives. They end. Sometimes (always) too soon.

I do not know what I was expecting the first time you made it to the surface. What, was I just going to live inside your head forever? Would you want that? Would I? The strangest thing happened when you stepped over that threshold where the barrier once stood, when everyone else followed you out. I felt you pull away from me, and then I watched the back of your head as you walked out into the sun. It was a bit disorienting. I wasn’t seeing through your eyes anymore, I was just…there. Watching. Barely even there, because I couldn't feel you there justifying my existence anymore.

I don’t think there was a doubt in either of our minds about what that meant. As everyone else chatted in awe of how beautiful the sun was, you looked back at me (although I don’t think you really saw me, just the empty opening of the cave). There was confusion, or sadness, or panic on your face. I’ve never had to read your face from the outside before, what a funny thing to realize. Whatever emotion it was, it was enough to make you Reset. And then again, and again. It really was for my sake, then.

This makes me feel a strange mixture of things, but the feeling of guilt sticks out like a sore thumb. Frisk, I don’t want you to feel any sort of…obligation? Or anything? To keep me alive. I’ve been wanting to be dead for a long time.

It’s a lame attempt at humor to lighten the mood, but as soon as I think it, I realize how unfunny it sounds. It kind of stops being a joke when it’s true.

Still, you reply, “It’s not like that. You know that.”

You are making some awfully bold assumptions here, though they’re not entirely false. I’m inclined to ask, what is it like then? Would moving on with your life not be the best option here? Everything is going to work out for you. And, hey, you won’t even have to put up with an annoying ghost in your head anymore.

“What if I like the annoying ghost in my head?”

Well, then you’re weird. But we’ve already established that.

That gets a smile out of you. “See? You always make me feel better,” you think, and I want to roll my eyes at that. I want to remind you of all the times I made you feel worse rather than better, but I stay quiet for now.

“…Before I came here,” you start, eyes trained on the ground as you fidget with the grass there, “I was alone a lot. It wasn’t so bad, but…it wasn’t so good either.” You shrug one of your shoulders. “I dunno. I didn’t think about it much. I had to take care of myself, and there was never anyone there…to say it’d be okay, or to tell me dumb jokes, or just be there…y’know?”

Yeah. I do know.

…

“I kinda panicked when I left the Underground and you weren’t there. You were just…gone, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even really mean to Reset, I just didn’t think, and I-“

You sigh.

“I just really care about you. You’re like my best friend, Chara- ‘N that’s what it’s like. It’s like saying goodbye to your best friend.”

Oh.

Ha ha. Yes, I really do know that, don’t I?

“Wait, augh. I-I probably shouldn’t’ve said it like that, I’m sorry-“

No, Frisk, there is no need to apologize. It is fine. It’s fine.

Your fingernails claw into the grass and the dirt beneath.

I know. I know what you mean. I really do.

I try not to think of my brother. I fail.

I did not think you would care so much. It’s- (stupid), I want to say, but you are not stupid. (See, caring about me always gets people hurt), I want to say, but that’s not your fault. (What did you expect?), I want to say. (I don’t believe you), I want to say. (I don’t understand you), I want to say. I can’t- I can’t say any of that. I can’t say anything to you, right now.

You- you nod, a little concerned, but you give me space. You bring your hands together again and gaze out at the water again for a minute. Then, finally, you decide to continue onwards. You have a fish monster to face.

~~~

Being here doesn’t get easier, no matter how prepared I am after each Reset. The grey, achromatic walls and floors. The feeling of despair in the air. The stillness. It directly contrasts my memories of warmth and color and love in this home. It reminds me too much of dust.

I stay quiet as you kneel in front of the save star. It glows in a steady, consistent way, light flowing out from the center and disintegrating at the edges. A comforting feeling washes over you, as it always does, and you step into the house.

It’s as lonely as ever. You should just get this over with. The monsters that are always here to greet you at this phase of your journey stop you on your way to the kitchen.

“A long time ago, a human fell into the Ruins,” one of the Froggits begins. You stand there with your hands clasped together and listen politely, as you always do. I put up a mental barrier between myself and the world and try not to listen, as I always do.

The key on the kitchen countertop glints in the other room. You wait for the Froggits to finish speaking before grabbing it and returning to the hallway. You make your way to the far end of the hall to grab the second key, too, before entering my old room.

You open the gift boxes and take the locket and dagger out without a word. I relish the familiar weight around your neck as you reach back to fasten the locket’s clasp. It helps me find the words I want to say.

Frisk. I don’t want to keep doing this.

You’re surprised to hear me speak, but you listen.

What we talked about earlier… It’s not that I don’t want to stay. I think…you’ve helped me a lot too. And I’m really glad I met you. I’m just tired of feeling stuck in the past. A part of me…wants that, but. It hurts, being here but not being able to do anything. To fix anything.

Plus, I mean. You!! The barrier’s broken thanks to you! You and…Asriel, of course. At least, it will be. Again. It’s… I’m glad it worked out in the end. Even if it took a really long time.

I wish things could be different. I wish I could stay, at least a little longer, but I don’t want to take this away from them. Or from you. I made my choice a long time ago, and this is already more than I deserve.

…

Are you…crying?

You’re holding your arms around yourself, as well. What is this???

“A hug,” you say through thoughts, sniffling.

Oh.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like that.”

It’s not your fault.

“I shouldn’t’ve kept Resetting, though. I knew it upset you the first time…”

I understand why you did it now, though. It’s okay, really.

“Okay…”

You rub your eyes with your sleeve and stand up, giving yourself a self-assured nod.

“Don’t worry. This will be the last time.”

~~~

When it’s time to fight Asriel, we’re both filled with determination. The nothingness surrounding us erupts in color and light, illuminated by kaleidoscopic starbeams and glimmering stardust. Attacks rain down on you from above, and you weave your body between them masterfully. You can’t evade them all, but I’m there cheering you on. A blast from Shocker Breaker shatters your soul; I reach out to press the pieces back together. But it refused!

Asriel floats above you, smirking with confidence in his power. You aren’t afraid of him anymore. You know all too well what he’s capable of, but you know him better now than you did when you first encountered him, just a human and a flower with a million untold secrets between them. He’d laid all his puzzle pieces out before you, and you can’t help but see the whole painful picture before you now. He’s stuck in a cycle, much like you but nothing like you at all. You’re going to help him bring it to an end. (Once and for all.)

The attacks keep coming, but you persist. You reach out to your friends within Asriel’s soul and remind them of who they are. Undyne, whom you admire for her enthusiasm and sense of justice. Alphys, whose intelligence and desire to do better inspire you. Papyrus, whom you enjoy hanging out with for his optimism and dedication. Sans, who tells you jokes that make you laugh and whose laid-back attitude puts you at ease. Toriel, who cares for you as her own child and made you feel safe when you first found yourself in this unfamiliar place. Asgore, whose presence is both comforting and sad, knowing of the difficult decisions he’s had to make in his life. Once you’ve reached out to all your friends, there’s only one thing left to do.

It seems that there’s still one last person that needs to be saved.

So you reach out to Asriel. And I do, too. He’s not the same as he was all those years ago, when we were just two kids playing in a muddy flower garden, and neither am I. But it’s still him, despite everything. He resists…and he’s still crying out to you as if you’re me. It hurts. I watch him do this every time, desperately latch on to the belief that I’m not really gone, and the ironic thing is that I have been here the whole time.

“I’m not ready for this to end,” he says, confident façade cracking.

It ended a long time ago.

“I’m not ready for you to leave,” he says.

I know.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye to someone like you again…”

…

“So, please…” His voice shakes, laced with despair. “Stop doing this… And just let me win!!!”

He raises his arms and summons all his magic for one final attack. Your vision is overwhelmed with color as the blast hits you, and you barely register the way he screams at you to stop holding on as your HP drops, with each passing second, to an impossibly low number. But it never reaches zero. You don’t die; your soul doesn’t shatter, because you’ve made it this far and you’re not about to give up now.

Finally, the world grows silent as the sound of magic rushing past your ears subsides. You’re exhausted, though Asriel is barely even paying attention to you anymore. He closes his eyes. Suddenly he seems so small inside his godlike form, too small to really be the Absolute God of HYPERDEATH.

“I’m so alone, Chara…” he says. “I’m so afraid…” They’re echoes of words I’ve already heard him say three times before, but they feel like acid nonetheless because it’s my fault and I’m the reason he’s like this, but you firmly tell me that it’s not. I don’t know if I can believe you, but I lean into you and try not to say anything more.

…

The world fades to black, and Asriel stands before you, looking the way I remember him once again. He’s covering his face, wiping away his tears and probably trying to hide the fact that he’s crying, too. He always was a crybaby, wasn’t he?

“I always was a crybaby, wasn’t I, Chara?”

Ha. Indeed.

He pauses for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. “…I know. You’re not actually Chara, are you? Chara’s been gone for a long time.”

You open your mouth to protest, but… Come on, Frisk, I can’t do that to him. Not after all that.

“But… Are you sure?”

I’m not… I am not here to stay. It would be a mistake to get his hopes up.

You twist your fingers together, disappointed, but you close your mouth anyway.

I’m only half-listening as he continues, asking for your name (which you have given him three times already) and apologizing for his actions. This is the last time I’m going to see him, is it not? He will break the barrier, and then you will go to the surface with everyone else. And I… Well, I don’t actually know what will happen to me. I won’t be able to come with you. I know that, at the very least. It looks like it might really be the end for me. I don’t know how to feel about that.

You tell him you forgive him, as you do every time. It seems only fair to you, after everything he’s gone through. A part of you understands him, even though most of you doesn’t, and you hope the knowledge that somebody in the universe forgives him gives him some solace. He smiles at you sadly.

He can’t stay, he tells you. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes in concentration. The human souls gather around him as he rises into the air, hovering around him in a circle, and the monster souls follow suit, glowing in the darkness. With the combined power of the human souls and every monster soul in the Underground, each pulsing with the same desire…the barrier is finally broken.

It’s over. There’s a weighty sense of resolution to it now. I don’t want you to Reset again. I know you won’t.

I stare at Asriel through your eyes as he lowers to the ground again, head tilted down, eyes closed. He looks so tired. He tells you that he needs to go, that you should go be with the people that care about you. You should just forget about him, he says. As if that would be possible.

Every word feels like a countdown, and I want to do something, but I can’t move. I need him to forget about me. I can’t be here messing everything up. I don’t…want him to forget me. But I don’t want him to hurt remembering me. I don’t want to stay here… I don’t want to go.

You hug Asriel. To my surprise, your arms tighten around him as you allow me to slip into control. “Just for a minute,” you think. The feeling of warmth and his sweater under my fingers and my chin on his shoulder hits me so suddenly that I can’t stop my tears from running down your face. I relax into the hug, though. I close my eyes and try to forget where we are and what we’ve been through. I don’t want to let go…

When he finally pulls away, he gives me a weird look, but it’s gone in a moment.

“I’ll miss you,” I say without thinking.

He laughs. “Please don’t.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

“You okay?” you ask as you slip back into control. Your presence is comforting beside mine in your mind.

I am, I say. Yeah.

~~~

Outside, clouds drift lazily across the sky, a beautiful gradient from lilac to yellow to frame the setting sun. Over the edge of the mountainside, you can just barely see the tops of trees stretching out into the distance, leaves tousling gently in the breeze. Tall buildings silhouette the sky on one side, and on the other, more mountains.

The light streams in through the exit to the Underground, of which you stand behind. One of your hands is cupped over the other in front of you, and you run your fingertips over the knuckles absently. You have been standing here for a while, hesitant.

Congratulations, partner, I start in an attempt to ease the tension, you’ve saved everyone once again.

“We did,” you correct. “And Asriel.”

Of course. And now, think about it. Everyone is free for real. They can see the sun, the sky, the stars… There’s a whole future ahead of them. And you get to be a part of it. That’s amazing, is it not?

“Mhm…”

You could stay with Mom. She would make you breakfast in the morning, read you bedtime stories at night. I bet Undyne would be willing to teach you some sick fighting moves. Anime nights with Alphys.

“I could hang out with Sans and Papyrus.”

Yeah! You could learn how to make music with Napstablook. That might be fun. And Mettaton might need some help becoming a star on the surface, too.

You giggle. “I think he’s got that covered.”

Maybe. I smile along with you. But, aren’t you excited? Not everything will be easy, but you have so many people supporting you.

“I know…” You sigh through your nose. “You deserve all that too, though; it’s not fair.”

Hey. The lilac is disintegrating from the sky, fading into a deep orange. Some of the wind makes it into the cave, crisp air whistling through the doorway and cooling your skin. Hey, you know what? It’s worth it. It’s okay.

I think there are tears in your eyes again. Come on, please don’t cry.

I can’t stay here forever. I’m already overstaying my welcome, being dead and all. I was supposed to be gone a long time ago, but…I got to meet you by some miracle, and that makes it all worth it, I think. Even if I can’t stay.

“Charaaa…”

I laugh a little. Don’t worry about me, Frisk. Really. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

You hug yourself- “Hug you,” you correct. Oh. Okay. You hug me, and I, try to hug you back? It’s a little bit awkward, but I appreciate it all the same. The emotional vulnerability is starting to make me uncomfortable, but I need you to know I care about you. I know you’ll be okay.

Ha ha, this goodbye stuff is pretty hard, huh?

“Goodbye,” you say simply, with a teasing smile.

Oh, not so hard for you, it seems. Well then, “goodbye” to you, too.

I pause. …And good luck out there, partner. I think Asriel said it best: take care of everyone for me, okay? Even him.

You nod and give me a shaky little thumbs up. That’s the spirit! (Pun always intended.)

With a glance over to the others, who are in the other room, chatting amongst themselves and waiting for you, you decide you’re finally ready to go. You let everyone know, and the excitement in the room is palpable as you all make your way to the exit. They make a fuss out of you, ruffling your hair and smiling back at you. You let them leave first, and then at last, you step over the threshold yourself. I feel our connection sever.

And then I’m watching the back of your head as you walk away again. Before you reach the others though, you turn around to give me a small wave.

That’s it, I guess… I can’t exactly wave back, but I wish you well and thank you for everything. Together, you and I allow time to continue on.

#chara week #chara week 2023 #they're not in the cover art but the fic is mostly about them and Frisk so #undertale #safeutdr #chara dreemurr #frisk dreemurr #fanfiction #undertale fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #my art #chara #frisk #undertale frisk #undertale chara #🌼#also in reference to what I wrote at the beginning of the post. I wrote that a couple weeks ago. when I THOUGHT I would finish this #but of course I procrastinated on writing the last scenes so now I'm posting it quite a bit after the school year ended. oh well #still thematically relevant #writing is hard for me /except/ when I impulsively write at 3am and realize I've gotten to 2000 words without really trying. apparently. :I #also as a sidenote. this is just a one-off 'what if' scenario for me because the idea of chara not being able to come with frisk to #the surface makes me sad so. :(#sidenote number two. HOW did this become longer than Thunderstorms dude....... that was not intentional.

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writegoblin · 11 months

Text

Michael Myers Headcanons

----

I've super been in the mood to write lately :3c I've been pressuring myself to come up with like. Something cohesive. But nah. I just wanna get a lil silly.

SFW

- When you first meet, it's because you moved into Haddenfield. Illinois has like, three cities everyone moves to, so for you to pick a tiny town-- and Haddenfield of all the tiny towns? Something had to be wrong with you. Something Michael needed to investigate.

- In reality, you worked for a niche company that signed a contract with a Haddenfield hospital. It wasn't anything complex. But you're complex to him.

- He just quietly breaks into your home every once in a while if the mood strikes him. He's not always out murdering-- he's gotta case the houses, too! So, of course, he's taken the opportunity to break into your house the ONE night you had to do overtime.

- If you have pets, he mostly avoids them. If they're aggressive, he'll find a way to lock them up. It would be a shame to hurt you so deeply this early on after all. So Brutus can get locked in a closet for now <3

- You become more aware of his presence because he starts taking items. In a weird way this is also how you get to know him. A lot of old out of state memorabilia or souvenirs go missing. Pictures of strange places. Anything that's odd or unique looking. He might start taking hobby items just to see how frustrated you get.

- Once you two actually confront each other, it's a little bit like those old movies about the wild animal getting adopted by a human? Where at first it's like "oh god oh fuck big scary!!!" And then you flash the light on the silhouette and you see "oh you're actually just a pathetic little meow meow." That's him.

- The reason he's so meow meow is for the first time. His curiosity is winning over his blood lust, giving him sort of a clear head. He likes spending time with you cause it lets him actually think about things. You don't rush to judge him, so he experiments with himself more. (And also with you, in a way. It's how you bond!)

- I mentioned this in a previous post but I'll say it again here: he's the type to do something for you if he can reason that it benefits him. He puts you to bed because if you don't sleep early, you can't make him breakfast. If you don't eat, you get moody and THEN who will drive him to the weirdly 24/hr thrift store?! Fucked up.

- He's weird about physical affection. Some days are better than others. Some days, he's very cuddly, actually. And by cuddly, I mean leaning against you in a bid to get you to crawl into his lap or put your arms around him. On his bad days though, he gets flashbacks to the hospital. He feels like a wild animal in a cage.

- Speaking of, his bad days are when you don't see him. You're a safe space. He can't defile a sanctuary like that. If he's approaching a bad day, he might be more distant, standing in doorways and halls just. Staring. From then on, it's a matter of time. All you can do is fix whatever breaks in the aftermath. If you try to touch him, he'll leave.

- Quickest way to his heart is food and nursing. Did you just feed him pancakes after patching up his gash? Oh, heavens--

- He doesn't fall in love easily per say, more like he will trust you a bit more willingly. The love part comes FARRR later when you've seen his worst and his best, not to be corny.

NSFW

----

- Before y'all met, between Halloweens, he's doing petty crime. Lots of theft. He steals magazines. You know where I'm going with this.

- He knows what he likes and he doesn't like. He has an idea of stuff he'd like to try. Lots of fantasies, not much experience save for the occasional vouyer moment.

- When you come around though, and you become sexually comfortable with him, he wants to experiment. That's kind of his other way of saying "I love you."

- Loves. Rope. Frog tie is best because he can kinda make a show of lifting you in front of a mirror and the face you make when that happens is-- *chef's kiss*

- Sadist, naturally. But I think he likes both pleasure and pain. A bit of a darker headcanon but sometimes he feels like he's stabbing you when thrusting. Your cries and mewls and erotic hollers spurring him on. Your orgasmic cries bring him back down. His own orgasm brings him back. He's him again.

- He loves intimidating you. If you're shorter or weaker in any way, he loves backing you into corners and making you feel small.

- If you're aggressive, he loves a challenge too. In fact, if you're into play wrestling he might be down sometimes. It wakes up this primal instinct in him that needs to pin you down. And he likes a good challenge.

- He's very thick. Very long. I'm thinking 8", uncircumcized, upward pitch. Bit veiny too if im honest. His first load is always stupid big.

- If you're a squirter, 🫡 it was nice knowing you Mr. President--//shot

- Once he gets the basics down, and you two start experimenting, and that happens for the first time, it is his goal. His duty. To make sure it happens every time.

- He has a third dense for your arousal. He's good at reading body language (he scares you sometimes, with how easily he can read your thoughts), so sometimes he'll wait until you're subtly showing signs without knowing. Wiggling your hips, sighing, taking off layers of clothes. And when you least expect it, that's when he'll get you.

- Low key has a thing for pheromones, I think. Like musky scents n all that. The scent of arousal. He loves eating for that reason among other more obvious ones.

- If you want him to be submissive, it will take lots of convincing. You'll have to catch him when he's in a more receptive state-- when he's reflecting on himself. He'll be more open to the idea then.

#michael myers x reader #michael myers smut #michael myers #slashers x reader #slasher smut #slasher headcanons #fuck it i wrote this at 4 am time to pass out lol

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lily-radiance · 1 month

Text

Picture Perfect Psychopath

Doctor Jonathan Crane/ fem reader.

3.9k words

(So far, this is just a drabble, but I do have an idea of where this story could go. I've been watching The Dark Knight trilogy and got inspired. Reader works at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist, sharing the field of study with Scarecrow and old flame Harley Quinn. Likely not canon-compliant. Kinda merged various movies since I'm no comic book expert.)

Arkham Asylum is a cesspool of depraved criminals, as it has been for the past few years. Typical people who are suffering from mental illnesses and were sent away without care were obvious. This institution was the cheapest and easiest way to lock up the sick, even before the creation of the vigilantes. Everyone in Gotham City knew to keep their eyes on the ground and act as if crimes were invisible. If you cause a fuss in any shape or form, don't be surprised if you get dragged away in a body bag. You hated the mere thought of disregarding the pain of the city, but what could you do if no one would listen? Criminals, no matter the type, always have a story to tell.

“Bruce, the next time you interrupt my work for a house call, I'm stealing your Batmobile!”

You've been sitting in Wayne Manor for the past two hours, all because your friend wanted to “check-in” on the status of the newest patients. On any other day, you might have given him leniency, but he's been siphoning you for information without a decent break. Now, you not only have to write and submit a few dozen reports before sunset, all while juggling Bruce Wayne. The billionaire rolls his eyes but smiles, enjoying a day where he can loosen up and act as a person instead of a shadow.

“Nice try, but the garage is foolproof. I learned my lesson when you took my ride for a spin last year.”

You sip the cola in your hand, amused at the memory of speeding around the house and getting the vehicle caked in dirt. You apologized to Alfred when realizing the butler had to clean it afterward.

“Too bad, I was hoping to test the maximum speed,” you said with a chuckle, “I'm kidding, of course.”

“Sometimes, I worry about your coworkers. Do they know how much damage you can cause when bored?”

You glare at him from the couch. Work was something you liked to keep separate from life; he knew that very well. After all, if someone identified Batman successfully, then Wayne Enterprises would crumble in on itself.

“Do you know how much damage you cause when I'm not around to cover your tracks? Honestly, you may give Alfred a heart attack.”

The butler frowns at your humor before taking your empty glass. You notice the lipstick mark left over, reminding yourself to reapply the makeup. Psychiatric professionals do their best to look formal, and this habit has followed them since college. When you consider the many polished individuals at the facility, one is always at the forefront of your mind: Doctor Jonathan Crane. No matter the time of day, his appearance is that of near perfection, or you like to think so. Today, you have a briefing with him, and the idea has prompted you to dress to impress; the shade of cherry red on your lips is a testament to that.

“I'm always careful, (Y/N). I have Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius for that very purpose. You know Arkham is filled with lunatics and, more specifically, the worst villains.”

“We've had this conversation before, Bruce. I'm good at my job, and the people you lock up are kept in the deepest parts. Plus, I always hear exciting stories, which makes time fly by!”

He gives you a stern glance, not happy with your unbothered attitude. You drop the smile and sigh.

“I know you think I can't handle myself in that place. You get up close and personal with villains more often than I do. Every floor has a ton of security guards, not to mention cameras and passcodes in each room!”

Eventually, he gives up the protective demeanor. If you needed his help, he was the first in line. If not, he would be prepared for the future.

“Right, I know you're responsible and cautious, (Y/N). It's still the institution with the most significant number of patients in Gotham, so I want you to stay alert. Tim and the others are patrolling tonight if you run into trouble. Remember, the GCPD is conducting investigations on a possible new perpetrator.”

You nod to his speech, tapping your heels underneath the coffee table. He is about to give you another piece of information, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps is your cue to leave. Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Jason Todd enter the room, waving a synchronous greeting in your direction. Your phone beeps in your jacket pocket, and you fumble the device when the caller is listed. Barbara notices your excitement and chuckles, watching as you answer the phone.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N); how may I help?”

“It's Dr. Crane, as you probably knew judging by how quickly you answered. The administration got caught up in other matters, so it's just you and me. Don't be late.”

The voice catches you off guard, your heart beating too quickly regarding the abrupt message. You lose your ability to speak, and like everything else, he's already caught a glimpse of it.

“Doctor—what about the meeting on security clearances? We still have much to discuss with the board; isn't this important?”

“I've already taken care of most of the concerns. Currently, my priority is talking to you about your individual endeavors regarding Arkham. Do you have an issue with this?”

As he asks, you know he's not looking for an honest answer. You swallow your pride, although tempting to draw on this further.

“No, Doctor. I'm on my way right now.”

“Good, I have high hopes you'll be fascinated by my newest work.”

You have nothing else to add as he hangs up, an annoying habit you wish didn't leave you bitter. Barbara steps over, raising a brow in examination. Your behavior, coupled with the alluring cosmetics on your face, indicates an attention to detail made to attract. The young woman tilts her head, examining your efforts, and pauses. She prevents your curiosity by grabbing a maroon scarf hung on the hat rack and placing it on your neck. As she wraps the fabric loosely around your collar, she discreetly whispers, “In case whoever you see leaves a mark or can't keep you warm. It also matches your lipstick.”

The redhead winks at you, knowing that finding worthwhile men in Gotham is a rare treat. If only you knew who you were falling for, maybe someone else could have turned your head. The likelihood of your coworker getting obsessed with another pretty face was nonexistent, especially when he knew every method of pushing your buttons.

Gotham weather stands to be frigid regardless of the season, and the cold water on your cheeks proves it. Hurriedly, you head to your car, jumping in the driver's seat and turning the hot air on. You flip the sun visor down, using the compartment mirror to double-check your appearance. You smile, wink, and perform other expressions to understand if this is too much. It's not like you dressed yourself in fancy attire, but the makeup sensation tells you this is different—the scarf clings to your shoulders, adding an extra layer of comfort.

The City appears as dreary as ever, with gray clouds looming over the skyscrapers. You knew this landscape was not as picturesque as the Bahamas, but it was familiar. In this place, you felt like a necessary presence, that your actions were genuinely helping people live. Others complain that they think soulless thoughts and have no purpose in a city of thugs, but they don't see the possibilities. No, you appreciated the constant ebb and flow pattern because it meant everything was up to chance. Unlike Harvey Dent, you had no interest in flipping a coin to decide your fate; if you wanted something and could achieve it, why worry about the downfall? Bruce told you to avoid trouble, and maybe if you tried harder, you could, but curiosity always took control. The night turned Gotham into a place of both dreams and nightmares. When the streets glow amber and the windows shine with the moon, the law is subject to change.

Rain slams against the windshield, the downpour forcing you to drive at a snail’s pace. Common sense doesn't stop other drivers from taking risky turns; some cars cut in front despite your right of way. You honk your horn at the reckless speeding, internally regretting this venture. At least twenty minutes have passed since you left, and yet you're still running late. Luckily, most security guards let you pass immediately, while one or two demand identification. If you weren't so anxious, you would see the multiple faults that made Arkham’s reputation. People were lazy, some slacking without a care. Others were too busy dealing with life changes to support this institution.

The repetitive sound of your heels clicking on the tile floor draws someone's attention. Unfortunately, you can barely avoid this girl regularly, so it makes sense that she would be another obstacle.

“Woah, pudding, you getting ready for the runway or something? I haven't seen you wear red in a long time. It makes a girl wonder, what's the occasion?”

Harleen Quinzel stands in her cell, dressed in a jumpsuit that does her no justice. Her usually dyed hair is unkempt and faded, now a dirty blonde with pigment spots. Despite her living situation, her personality is still bubbly. She holds a bent cigarette and takes a drag, then tosses the leftovers underneath her boots. The woman approaches the metal bars, wrapping her hands around two and leaning through the gap. A stream of smoke is exhaled into your face, the delinquent playfully puckering her lips.

“I have a critical meeting with Dr. Crane, and it was supposed to be with the rest of the board until something got in the way. I'm running late, and if I don't get to that office in time—”

Harley raises her index finger, pressing against your lips to stop your words.

“That does sound like a pretty jumbo deal, dollface! From one doctor to another, rescheduling an administrative meeting is unnecessarily convoluted!”

She moves her hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face in multiple angles to glimpse your handiwork. A smile spreads across her lips, her tongue licking the front of her teeth. It makes you nervous, and she knows it.

“I mean, he said he ‘took care of it,’ but I don't know if that necessarily means it was rescheduled. The board could have discussed several possibilities, so I can't guarantee anything.”

You don't know what she's trying to prove.

“Something tells me your lover boy isn't inviting you for a simple coffee. No, with a mind as unpredictable as his, I bet you'll leave here with more than a headache. That is, if you leave at all, dollface.”

Her voice digs further into your mind, higher-pitched as she giggles to herself. You adjust the scarf to distract yourself, but she won't let this topic rest.

“Harley, as much as I appreciate what I assume is a concern, I know what I'm doing.”

“Sure you do, pudding. You think he's all sweet and charming, right? Doctor Jonathan Crane, who wears a nice suit and never gets his hands dirty? He probably compliments your work and swears to get back to your questions. I'll even bet he holds your hand a little too long when he shakes it, and you don't say anything because you want his hand on yours.”

She sees the blush rising to your cheeks and continues to torment you. You can't breathe clearly, not when your lungs burn like this.

“Oh, I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you. When he holds your hand, do you imagine it somewhere else on your body? Do you think he'll have you by the waist while his other hand traces your neck? Will he squeeze your throat and bruise the pretty skin, rubbing his tongue up and down? Will you let him devour you as I did? I bet you'll have his handprints on your thighs for weeks, the dirty little secret that you keep to yourself?”

She plays with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around her fingers. You haven't been this close to her in years, and your proximity reminds you why. Getting close to villains is a quick path to insanity. You step away from the cell, regaining your focus. A pair of footsteps echo down the stairwell, slow and precise. When you turn, your coworker is impatiently waiting, a scowl etched onto his features as he stares between you and Harley Quinn. The blonde enthusiastically waves at him, earning a glare.

“Come along; we have lots to discuss and little time to waste. I thought I clarified that I wanted you in my office five minutes ago.”

You follow his figure, a knot in your stomach at his unusual mood. The doctor could be a pain when it came to protocols, but you two got along reasonably well. He gave you criteria to follow, and more often than not, he liked to debate your findings. You hoped this was a quick conversation, but then it didn't make sense that he instructed you to take a ferry for something he could have said on the phone.

“Yes, I had to drive through the rain and rush in traffic. I wasn't counting on the weather to be so awful or for Harley Quinn to pull me aside.”

He waits by the top of the stairwell for you, watching as your heels tap the concrete. It amazed him: the concept of walking on elevated stilts that could snap like a twig. You don't miss how he scans your legs or how the muscles in your calves tighten. He extends a hand, presenting the cordiality that made you admire him in the first place. You hesitate with trembling fingers, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he holds your palm. He's warm, and it gives you too much satisfaction. Instead of letting go, he merely continues walking, carefully trailing his fingers over your radial pulse. Each thrum of your heartbeat is now in his possession of knowledge, tipping him off on your anxiety. The door to his office is down a corridor, only accessible to visitors and himself.

“Had you considered wearing gloves, Doctor? You might want to invest in case the temperature drops. If you can't use your hands, I suppose the mind is sufficient, but exhausting yourself unnecessarily is no good to anyone.”

You sit in one of the two chairs, removing your scarf and placing it in your lap. Crane takes his place behind the desk and falls into the chair, folding his hands on the flat surface.

“Believe me, if I could grab a few extra layers, I would have. I was visiting a friend when you called, and since you requested I hurry, there was no point in going home to change. I've lived in Gotham for a long time, and a storm isn't enough to stop me from doing my job. Anyway, you said there was something you needed me to examine?”

He slides a manilla folder towards you, numerous papers spilling from the seam. You take the hint to inspect the documents, flipping through the pages and absorbing the content. MRI scans, coupled with test results and psychological jargon, cover the sheets. You wrinkle your nose in focus, recognizing the highlighted areas of the brain as the amygdala and the frontal lobe. The human brain structure separates information based on its importance, using the amygdala for the fear response and the frontal lobe for rational thought. If one of these locations is compromised, whether by neural chemicals or injuries, the body cannot regulate its reactions to stressful environments. You continue reading, wholly fascinated by the hypotheses listed. The last few pages are still being worked on, primarily blank except for messily written notes. While your train of thought is still understandable, you remove a pen from your coat pocket and begin scribbling. He stares in amusement, pride blooming at your coinciding wonder.

“Doctor Crane, this is beyond incredible! If you were to develop this drug, who knows what group might want it? Not to mention the possibility of designing a formula with the opposite goal of annihilating fear entirely!”

He doesn't bother to hide the smirk on his face as you supply him an ego boost. Initially, he worried you would have an adverse reaction given your good-natured spirit, but those doubts were put to rest by the sight of your smile. The longer he allows himself to relax, the more his eyes are drawn to your lips. Red was a beautiful color on you, contrasting the dim aura of this hospital. As you revel in this energized state, you do not anticipate the foreign sensation of his mouth against yours. Recognition dawns on you as the scent of his cologne lingers, and the papers fall to the ground. You cautiously lean into his touch, grasping his shoulders to bring him closer. The fabric of his shirt bunches as you dig your fingers into the material. He has no qualms with your proximity, but he recognizes the trepidation in your movements for what it is: the worry that you'll scare him away. It's ironic, and it tells him that the only way to disprove your doubt is to make sure you know that this encounter isn't based on the heat of the moment.

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him additional access, as well as the ability to overpower you. Never had you thought that the absurd fantasy of him kissing you would come to fruition, and certainly not in his office over research data. This was supposed to be a dull day of filing paperwork and overhearing business, not the instance where your co-worker, technically your boss, would be sharing saliva. His lips travel to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing down your neck. He has to remove the scarf and unbutton your collar to reach the desired location. You tilt your head back, moaning as he grows closer to your carotid vein. Similar to your earlier encounter, he locates your pulse, biting and sucking the skin as your heart rate increases. You admittedly have no idea what you're doing, but you do know that the image of him making out with you is extremely hot.

Yet, rational is a demon that you cannot leave behind. You're a scientist through and through, which means taking time to analyze the effects of this situation is necessary. Gently, you press against his chest, halting his actions and putting space between you. He looks down at you quizzically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen from the bridge of his nose.

“We could keep going with this course of action, not that I would complain, but maybe we should consider what we're getting ourselves into. I mean, we work together, and if we pursue a relationship, that could cause an entire slew of issues. Let’s cool our jets and think about this objectively before getting too deep.”

You feel a new weight on your chest as you try to analyze his expression. Most days, you could guess his emotions based on small talk, if he even spoke to you. Unfortunately, he's again acting like a blank slate, unreadable as the silence grows longer. Somehow, this enigma of a human specimen has become a magnetic field, drawing you in despite your better judgment. It's not that you don't want to see where this night goes, but the idea of committing to him, especially in the workplace, sends a chill down your spine.

“I see what you are getting at, (Y/N). It's not a problem if you want to think this over. Honestly, I prefer my opinion, but I see no fault in mulling it over. We wouldn't be scientists if we didn't leave decisions up to logic, would we?”

He seems calm enough, and that takes some of the pressure off. You breathe out a sigh before stretching your neck, still a bit unsure of what to do. Another beat of awkward silence follows before you work up enough courage to face him. Blue eyes catch your thousand-yard stare and dart back to the ground.

“It's getting late. D-do you need anything else from me, Jonathan?”

He is not expecting you to refer to him by his first name despite the circumstances. The sound of your hesitancy is still cute, and he wasn't expecting his name to sound so good on your tongue.

“No, I have everything I need. Do you want me to drive you home? The weather is still raining cats and dogs. Not only that, but Gotham is dangerous already, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

The offer seems adequate, and you know precisely the dangers lurking outside. If not for crime and insanity, you wouldn't have a job, but that doesn't mean you want to get caught up in legal shenanigans.

“I drove to the docking bay with my car, so assuming you drive, that would leave one of us without our respective vehicles…”

“You're partially correct. I take a taxi to get around town most of the time so that I won't abandon my car here. Then again, if I drove your car, I would still have to call a cab at one point or another.”

His analysis has you pondering the options until you decide to wing it. You've already made out with your boss, how much worse could it get?

“Screw it, I'll call you a taxi myself. If the weather gets too bad, you can stay at my place for the night.”

You pick up your scarf from the chair, throwing it around your neck in preparation for the cold air outside. The hallways are still empty, and for once, you're glad since the quiet gives you space to think. All that's left is to descend the stairs, pass security, and get the hell out of there. You place your hand in your pocket to grab your identification card but pause as your co-worker is two steps ahead of you, already swiping his badge across the checkpoint. That's right, he has a higher security clearance than you; no wonder he's always early to the office.

“There ya’ are pudding! How'd that meeting go—”

Harley Quinn wastes no time in asking questions as soon as she sees you approach. The doctor next to you gives her a scowl like last time, but the reason behind it is different. Before, he was irritated by her peppy attitude, and now it's jealousy. The blonde’s expression turns into a frown, but covers it with her usual distaste for nitpicky professionals. You would find their disagreement amusing if not for your fresh taste of humanity from the critical doctor, his shell still rough around the edges. You let your mind wander, barely recognizing the arm around your shoulder until you feel the support of his body against you.

These moments are the ones that make your heart race and your mind split. You know this guy, right? He has to be one of the good men in this rotten city. If not, what would you do anyway?

If you like this check the updating version on ao3: Click

#x reader #fanfiction #batman begins #dark knight #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #drabble #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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