#but sigh we must go on and try to improve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kentopedia · 6 months

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."

#kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

13K notes · View notes

jinnie-ret · 7 months

Note

9th member reader where skz are on a talk show or smth and the host is saying some uncomfy stuff abt reader being the only girl in a group of boys. the boys would be kinda passive aggressive about their replies because they cant outright say anything for fear of bad publicity and being disrespectful. i like the idea of the boys sticking up for reader in any way they can, even if they have to be sly about it so reader knows they have their back

bite my tongue

stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: angst

content warnings: sexual harassment (verbal)

word count: 1.6k

summary: when an interviewer decides to pick on you specifically, the boys do their best to hold back and get you out of the situation.

Thank you so much for this request! I'm sorry it took so long for me to answer but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

As always, like, reblog if you enjoyed, and my asks are open for any requests you may have. And let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

You decided you hated interviews. There was clearly a difference between how they'd talk to the boys in comparison to how they'd treat you. Whether it was by completely ignoring your existence or sexualising you as the only female in the group, it made you feel awful. The gross comments that were made caused you to feel uncomfortable, yet your demeanour was too shy to fight back. Perhaps that was a good thing, you had 8 other members to defend you at all times anyways.

You were currently doing an interview to promote S-CLASS, your new title track, and it seemed to be a nice atmosphere, a nice sit down conversation where you could talk about your music mixed in with other personal questions to make it more fun. But that was the issue, it wasn't fun. It started off light-hearted, and you worried you were being sensitive and overreacting at first when you suspected the questions you received weren't normal ones, but by the expressions on the boys' faces, you realised you were right to feel this way.

"So, Y/N, tell me, what was it like getting to do a more masculine dance this time? I saw the music video and I was quite surprised at how well you did," the male interviewer started off.

You mouth visibly dropped open in shock, yet you did your best to answer, despite your nerves.

"Ummm, I think my dance skills have improved over the years, yes," you said, not able to make eye contact with the man, not directly saying anything about his prejudiced words.

You had been with Stray Kids from the very start. Yes, the public had their things to say about you being in a group with a bunch of guys, but it had been 5 years now. Of course you were accustomed to the dance style of Stray Kids. You had created your own image through your music and dance, so what if the dance moves were typically more powerful with sharper movements? You were part of the dance line for a reason.

"Our Y/Nnie did so well," Hyunjin ruffled your hair from where he was sat behind you, trying to lighten the mood as he could tell his other members weren't too happy with how you were being treated.

You turned to Hyunjin with a thankful smile.

"So, 3RACHA, you do all the producing for the group right? That's quite a unique situation amongst idol groups," the man asked the group, and nearly everyone let out a sigh of relief and allowed themselves to smile, grateful for a normal question.

"Ah yes, 3RACHA have been together since predebut, so we've worked hard over the years to create music that represents our group and who we are," Jisung nodded and explained.

You couldn't help but check the time on your watch, seeing there was still 10 minutes to go.

"Y/N, how did it feel having to squeeze into your outfit in the MV? I noticed it was quite a tight leather jumpsuit you wore, that must have been difficult to wear considering it clinged onto you so tightly," the man directed his question at you again, and you were taken aback once more.

"It, umm, it wasn't too difficult, yeah... I think it fitted the vibe of the song," you said, clearly uncomfortable as you shifted in your seat.

Why did you get these types of questions? The boys got asked about music, and you instead got ridiculed for your skills and sexualised by the gross man in his mid 40s.

"Don't you want to ask me about how I fitted into my outfit? I've been working out these days," Changbin tensed his arms, flexing and patting his muscles proudly as he took the attention away from you. He seemed to have been thinking the same way as you.

"Maybe you should help Y/N, she's so small and weak, you could do anything you wanted with her," the man suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at you, and quite frankly, you wanted to throw up.

"Have you been working out, sir?" Minho spoke sharply and asked the man, infuriated.

"Oh yes I'm quite strong, can lift just about anyone in this room," he said. The statement of course, inferred he was challenging everyone else, yet his eyes never left your shy and nervous figure sat on the stool.

Everyone could see it. And they knew it was time for something to be done. They didn't think they could last the rest of the interview without punching the interviewer in the face. Yet, they did their best to keep their composure.

"Sorry, sir," Chan began through gritted teeth, tongue poking his cheek, "unfortunately we don't have anymore time for this interview," and he gestured everyone to stand up and follow his lead, exiting the room.

As you did so, you saw the blatantly shocked face on the man's face, Felix wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you left.

The boys were calm, until you made it to your backstage room where you had gotten ready earlier. All hell broke loose.

"What does that man think he's doing?" Changbin slammed his hand down onto the table, making you jump as you stayed quiet.

"I can't believe all those stupid things he was saying!" Minho growled, folding his arms.

"He's disgusting," Seungmin shook his head.

Chan was the angriest of them all, face of thunder as he paced the room. And yet, you couldn't help but feel bad. Surely, that interview couldn't be released now? And it was meant to help promote your new music, and because of your presence in the group, you felt like you were taking that opportunity away from them.

"Y/Nnie?" Jeongin waved his hand in your face to get your attention.

"Hmm?" you shook your head wondering what he was asking.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, and with all the anger that was in the room, it dissipated with your calm voice breaking through it.

"I guess..." you didn't really know what to say at this point. You felt like you should have been used to it by now.

"I know that look on your face, Y/Nnie, don't even go there," Chan shook his head at you, a frown still present on his face.

"I don't want to do interviews anymore," you suddenly blurted, fiddling with your hands nervously.

"Y/N..." Hyunjin sighed, but you cut him off.

"Every time we promote something we get an interview like this that can't be put out to the public. And it's because I'm here. And then that means our music will be getting out to less people out there and-" you fretted.

"If you seriously think this is your fault Y/N," Seungmin sat up, pure disbelief seeping through his words as he couldn't believe that even with the way you were being treated you still felt guilty.

"Y/N, you didn't make that interviewer say all those gross things towards you," Felix rubbed your shoulder soothingly.

"You actually did really well to still try and answer him," Jisung nodded at you, thinking that he wouldn't have been able to have done the same thing.

"I had to bite my tongue so many times to not shout at him," Changbin gritted his teeth.

"This is why I shouldn't do these anymore, because it just ends up stressing you guys out," you felt bad, sitting down with your leg bouncing up and down.

"You're worried about us? We're worried about you, it's not fair that someone talks to you like that," Jeongin shook his head, hands on his hips.

"Y/N, here's what we're going to do. First, we're going to file a complaint against that guy. And second, for all future interviews we'll get the company to do a thorough check on if they're respectful and actually treat their guests right," Chan began, a plan already sorted in his mind for what action they could take.

"You're part of this group as much as anyone else, we can't represent Stray Kids without you there with us," Minho said like it was obvious, but it didn't feel that way to you.

"But it's always going to be the same thing. I'd rather not risk it again," you say, upset at the situation you had all been put in.

"Chan hyung already said, we can check what the show is like before going on it. That way you can decide from there, yeah?" Felix suggested, hand stroking through your hair as he sat next to you on the sofa.

"Or if you really don't want to do interviews anymore, I'm sure there's a way we can work around it. We could do more company based promotions and Div.1 can help us make our own shows?" Jisung wondered.

"No, I don't want to make things more complicated... I'll do them, I will, I just don't want this to ever happen again. It stresses me out, makes me feel all, gross," you shuddered.

"As long as you're sure, Y/N," Changbin checked in on you as everyone grabbed their things ready to leave the studio.

"Yeah, I'm sure," you mustered up a small smile, leaving with the others.

As you walked to the cars, you spoke up again, speaking louder than your normal quiet voice to catch the attention of everyone else.

"Thanks, by the way guys. Thank you for doing that."

"You don't have to thank us for that, Y/Nnie. We'd do that anytime, you know that," Hyunjin ruffled your hair, him and the rest of the boys now seeming more themselves and happier as you were leaving.

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng

#skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fic #stray kids imagines #skz ninth imagines #skz ninth #skz ninth member imagines #skz ninth member #stray kids ninth #stray kids ninth member #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member #stray kids angst

2K notes · View notes

azrielwingspan · 2 months

Text

'Someone' (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: The IC try to pry into your life and find out who you're crushing on.

Warnings : Noooone.

He was devastatingly handsome. Unfortunately for you, it did not bode well. You were supposed to be focusing on the meeting taking place and yet all you could think about was the shadowsinger seated opposite you.

"It would be best if we were to implement our previous strategy. What do you think Y/N?"

You snapped out of your daze and blinked slowly at your brother seated next to you. He looked at you expectantly as Cassian tried to stifle a laugh.

"Uhhh...yeah..we must...indeed." you choked out.

FOOL FOOL FOOOOOL. You screamed at yourself in your head trying your level best to get back your bearings and steer the meeting in your favor.

"Although, I do think we should discuss the previous strategy in detail and draw up a plan b in case things go south."

The others at the table nodded in agreement and you held in your sigh of relief. Rhys threw a suspicious glance your way but held his tongue. The people closest to you would describe you as an extremely focused and high functioning individual. Surprisingly for them and you , you were anything but that at the moment.

Azriel hadn't uttered a single word throughout the meeting instead choosing to listen attentively and observe , his usual mannerism. You stole another glance at him and froze. Fuck.

His eyes were trained on you, the gold piercing through the flecks of green and brown. Expression unreadable, he raised an eyebrow at your befuddled face. Giving him a crooked smile and almost wincing at how you must have looked, you turned your attention back to the matter at hand. Fantastic. Absolutely, truly fucking fantastic.

Putting in a ton of conscious effort, you managed to get through the rest of the meeting without making a fool of yourself again. Eventually, the conversation at the table turned into casual chatter. After all, everyone at this table was like family. You would fight for every single one of them.

"Y/N was heartbroken. It was rather funny to be quite frank." your head snapped in the direction of Mor who was shooting you a devious grin. It took a few seconds for the realization to kick in and you almost hid your face from absolute mortification. Today was going terrible.

"I was 25!! A CHILD in fae years." You defended yourself hiding your face in your hands. Laughter rose around the table and you sank further into your chair.

"Wait.." Feyre wiped a tear off the corner of her eye, trying to hold in her laughter. "so you're telling me, Y/N fell in love with a stable boy who was terrified of her? Why was he scared? What did you do?"

"She has this weird smile she ..." Rhys saw the glare you directed his way and a smug grin made its way onto his face.

"Okay..okay..I'm sure your love life has improved since then Y/N. Tell me, who is the unlucky guy these days?" Cassian asked sending everyone into a fit on raucous laughter yet again.

You were sure that everyone had noticed the way your shoulders tensed slightly. Cursing yourself for not doing a better job at hiding your emotions, you gave a casual shrug. "No one."

"Riiiiight." Cassian leaned back in his chair and looked to Azriel who had a small smile playing on his lips.

"What do you think Az? You're the spymaster after all."

"I don't pry into others personal lives brother." Azriel leaned forward placing his elbows on the table. "But...I might know who it is."

A flare of shock pulsed through you causing your heart to thump against your chest. Azriel noticed the change in your posture and let a small smirk slide onto his face. Handsome cocky bastard. Did he know?

You didn't think so. Aside from today, you had never given a hint of anything being strange or weird. He was probably playing mind games with you.

"So there is someone then." Mor's eyes twinkled , the makings of plan behind her eyes to glean the information from you later. You told Mor everything. After all, you were the best of friends. Which is why, you couldn't bring yourself to reveal this massive crush on Azriel yet. You knew Mor didn't love him that way and yet you couldn't speak to her about it.

"You guys are delusional. There is absolutely no one and I'm quite content thankyou very much. Also, spymaster..." you emphasized his title, giving him a sour smile "you need to brush up on your skills."

Azriel bowed his head trying to hide the grin blooming on his lips. "Now...if all of you are done gossiping about my non existent love life, I'm going to go spend some quality time with my new book." You left the room before any of them could notice the red blooming high on your cheeks. What you failed to notice however was a tendril of shadow reporting to its master about your flustered state.

That night as you were drifting off to sleep, a note was slid under the door into you room. It read

"It's hard not to pry when you're involved."- 'Someone'

You would be starting your morning with a heart attack tomorrow.

PART 2 OUT NOW ! READ HERE

Part 2 sneak peek here !

A/N: Let me know if you guys have any scenarios or ideas you want to read about. Would love to hear about them!

#azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar series #azriel x female!reader #azriel fic #azriel fluff

882 notes · View notes

untoldstar · 3 months

Text

male yandere psychologist x fem patient reader [introduction]

warnings: heavily implied that the reader is a patient at a psych ward, obsessive behaviors and tendencies, abuse of power, toxic environment, yandere themes, might not show in this part but for the future Ivan takes advantage of the readers vulnerable mental state.

There aren’t intense scenes in this at all (as I see it) BUT as for the coming parts of this OC it still has to do with a character who struggles with mental illness, an extremely toxic psychologist who abuses his position and being in a psyche ward so if you feel like any of that sounds triggering or there’s a possibility it could be triggering I would urge you not to read this or other parts of this OC.

pls be careful what you read guys and stay safe mwah🫶

Tick..

Ivan taps his foot impatiently and pushes up his sleeve for the millionth time to reveal his wristwatch.

2:59 PM

Just a few more seconds..

Tick..

3:00 PM

Ivan smiles, his stiff body finally relaxing and just like everyday a knock is heard on his office door and in walks the nurse pushing you forward like a criminal into his office. He only spares the nurse and nod and a polite smile before his attention is directed at you, focusing on your every move anticipating what you’ll do next. You huff and plop down in the chair in front of his desk rolling your eyes "Ah [name], how are we doing today?" he clasps his hands Infront of him and stares at you expectantly.

Just like everyday.

‘Why does he ask the same question every day? What could possibly change in the matter of a single day? They should've made these cheek-up's weekly instead this is becoming such a pain.’

"Fine. Just like always." you answer curtly. He hums nodding "Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut to the chase today there’s something I must discuss with you.” You quirk a brow. You have to admit seeing the serious expression instead of the easy going one he usually has is a bit unnerving “I'm sure you already know that your..leave is to be expected soon." his lips twist in displeasure as if merely saying that has left a bitter taste in his mouth. You nod "Yes..what about that?" he sighs "Well, I'm afraid I've come to the decision that you'll have to stay a while longer, just to be safe." Your heart plummets. Sure you haven't been kissing Dr.Ivan's ass or being necessarily..nice to him but that shouldn’t have anything to do with your treatment. You know you've been getting better so what possible reason could have you stay here "Just to be safe? What is that supposed to mean?" you shoot daggers at him but he doesn't seem the least bit bothered by it "We’ve witnessed many patients show signs of improvement and seem like they’re ready to leave but there were also many instances where patients leave our facility and end up..falling into old patterns. Not that I expect that from you but I would like to guarantee your safety." You swallow the lump in your throat. Can they even do that? Is that even legal? "..How long?" a few beats of silence passes by while he blankly stares at you before answering "A month." Your shoulders drop down exasperatedly. Another month??

You feel frustration bubble up inside your chest. You feel hopeless as if you’re never getting out of here. You can’t take it you can’t take seeing the same hallways the same people this same fucking office everyday.

You don't say anything when you get up from your chair and start charging for the door "Our daily check up isn't quite done, my dear." His voice booms behind you "I don't fucking care." You spit back and go to reach for the door when his hands suddenly slam the door on either side of you, trapping you against it "Why are you always trying to leave me?" he whispers his shaky breath fanning against the side of your neck "..What are you talking about..Doc-" his hand clenches into a fist "Don't call me that!" You flinch trembling slightly "..I'm sorry I raised my voice, but I've told you countless times before you don't have to call me 'Doctor' my dear. Ivan is fine." You stay quite and he sighs "You won't even say my name.." he leans his head on your shoulder his body slumping almost exhausted from the interaction.

You hold your breath eyeing the door handle inches away from you "Why do you hate me so much?" his voice almost breaks "You roll your eyes at me, you barely say a few words in our daily sessions, You can't stand it when I go to visit you in your room.." he steps closer, his body now flush against your back "You throw a fit and almost walk out on me.." he moves his head to the side sniffing your heart and you hear him let out a groan “God I thought you’d be happy about staying here. All I want is for you to love me. Why won’t you love me? hm?” his arms slide down for the door to wrap around you squeezing tightly “Am I just the annoying psychologist your forced to talk to? Is that all I am to you?” he keeps talking almost in his own world too intoxicated by you, having you in his arms body flush against his your scent enveloping him “Damnit why won’t you-“ you take advantage of his vulnerability and decide to make a run for it, using the door to push back all of your body weight to at least have his arms off of you immediately taking a hold of the door handle and leaping out of his office, you run down the hall never looking back. You’re surprised he didn’t pull you back in maybe he was shocked maybe he wasn’t and he just..let you go. Whatever the case was you had to get as far away from him as possible.

Ivan’s left alone in his office panting, cheeks flushed and an obvious tent in his pants. He lets out a low chuckle looking far off into the hallway ‘Soon..i read of running away from me you’ll be running to me. I’ll make sure of it darling.’

#fem reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere blog #yandere x reader #obsessive yandere #yandere #yandere fanfiction #male yandere psychologist #patient reader #yandere Ivan #Ivan oc #yandere psychologist #toxic yandere #introductory fic #kinda short sorry lol #I #I think it’s legal?? but he’s doing it cuz he’s crazy soooo

355 notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 1 month

Note

Hello!! I was hoping I could request for a Winchester sister reader that's taking care of the brothers when they're sick? Maybe making chicken noodle soup for them and stuff! Just something cute, I just need some comfort 🥹 Thank you if you take my request! 🫶

Noodle Soup

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: Sorry its a little short, I wanted to get some spn out for you all tonight because its been a hot minute since I wrote for spn and I’m ashamed

Word Count: 1k

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You never thought you would ever say this, but the infamous Dean Winchester was sick. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he would ever say it. Not out loud at least, but this morning, he could hardly drag himself out of bed and he was hit with a migraine and blocked sinuses that completely threw him off balance.

It put him in a bad mood as he tried to make his way to the kitchen, grumbling something about how he was fine. He was betrayed by the dry cough that left him heaving and leaning heavily on the side of the counter. You considered getting up many times as you watched him from the kitchen table as you scanned the papers for any possible hunts, but you knew his foul mood would more than likely end in an argument that you didn’t want to be involved in. What finally made you push your chair out from the table to put a stop to Dean’s antics was when he was fumbling around with a pan and dropped it on the floor with a clatter.

“Alright. That’s it. ” You linked an arm around him, pulling him away from the counter.

“Get the hell off me, Y/N.” Dean tried to push you away. “I’m fine.”

“Dean.” You gave him a look, narrowing your eyes at him stubbornly. “You can barely stand straight.”

He tried to turn back to the kitchen. “Piss off.”

You took his arm and dragged him back to the sofa. He sank back into it with a cough.

“Stay put.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and grumbled, but made no attempt to stand.

Sighing in content, you made your way back to the kitchen to make a start on breakfast when you heard another set of lumbering footsteps echoing through the bunker.

“I swear to god, Dean-” You started, making your way out of the kitchen only to come face to face with a very gruff-looking Sam. His hair was tousled and his eyes had dark shadows beneath them.

“Sammy?” You frowned.

“Hey y/n/n” He greeted. His voice was hoarse and scratchy, as if someone had replaced it with sandpaper. Perhaps it was not just one set of coughs and sneezes that kept you up last night.

“You too, huh?” You asked as he plonked himself on a stool in the kitchen.

Although less stubborn than his older brother, Sam still hesitated for a moment before sighing.

“Yep. I think we must have picked it up at the bar on the last hunt.”

It made sense. The two of them had gone out to the bar the other nights while you scouted out the local town. You weren’t sick, so it seemed to add up.

Sam groaned, rubbing his temples to try and ease the pressure.

“Why don’t you go and join Dean? I’ll bring some food out in a bit.”

Nodding, Sammy took his leave, stumbling back to his brother.

“Alrighty…” You balanced two bowls of steaming soup in your hands and you pushed open the door with your foot.

Your brothers didn’t seem to have improved much since this morning. Stubbornly as ever they both sat bundled up in blankets on the couch, wallowing in their own self pity and watching whatever they could find on the TV to keep themselves entertained. In the meantime, you were making sure that they were well cared for: making sure their temperatures didn’t get too high, or handing them painkillers to help with the headache. It was only fair, they had spent countless hours looking after you in the past when you were ill.

That was why you found yourself in the kitchen nursing a bowl of chicken noodle soup. It was your mother’s recipe; something that John had stashed away at the back of his journal. You could see why: it was the perfect remedy for a day like this.

Handing a bowl to both of your brothers, you watched as they sipped the steaming liquid and twisted the noodles around on a fork. Glad to see that they could stomach food, you went back into the kitchen to grab your own bowl. Your two brothers had sprawled themselves out across the length of the sofa, so you took a seat on the floor with your head leaning against Sam’s legs.

“Thank you.” Dean said as you took your seat.

“It’s not a problem.” You told him.

“We should be the ones taking care of you.” Dean continued.

You frowned, deepening the creases on your forehead. “Says who?”

Dean faltered. “Us.”

“Let me take care of you for once.”

The three of you stayed there for the rest of the day, talking and watching films through half lidded eyes and checking that your brothers were feeling okay. But, a few hours and a mountain of tissues later, they had finally drifted off to sleep.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr @aestheticdaisies @xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#supernatural x reader #spn x reader #Sam Winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x sister reader #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x sister reader #sick fic #comfort #fluff #spn #spn fanfic

187 notes · View notes

little-tainted-angel · 4 months

Text

๑ A secret between interlinked fingers.

Tim Drake x male!reader

Category: [Fluff/sfw/comical(?)]

Warnings: 5/5 bat-bros (Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke and Damian), male reader. Mention of Cassandra. 4/5 bat-bros don't believe Tim could go to therapy at all (I doubt any of them would). Reader uses Spanish pet names. May be too OOC.

Request: Yes / No | From: Anon.

«Hey! Could you please write Tim Drake x reader? Basically Tim is secretly dating a guy and they nostly hang out at school, his brother's get a bit too curious and listen in <3»

Note: My first request! Glad to have you here <3 I apologize if this isn't linked to your ask, Tumblr for some reason wouldn't let me edit it. I only had the options "delete" "program publication" and "post". Also, sorry this is short and if I got the characters personality wrong, I don't really know how to write Tim.

Resume: Tim and reader are dating, but they mostly just spend time in their school. His brothers got curious, and since all of them were raised by the world's best detective, is up to them to resolve the mystery that is Tim's relationship.

"I swear there's something strange in the kid's behavior," Jason muttered as he sat down on the couch, next to Damian while Duke was sitting on the other extreme. Dick was standing in front of them.

The four brothers (Cass also noticed, but Cass being Cass had already found out what it was), noticed that the brother —that was currently disappeared from the manor— had slight changes in his behavior.

It was sort of positive, they noticed. But they didn't know what caused it (therapy was discarded as an option by group agreement).

"Maybe he's self-improving for once?" Duke suggested, though he didn't sound convinced himself.

"TT. Doubt that Drake of all people could self-improve his pathetic self," Damian rolled his eyes.

"Damian, be nice," Dick sighed, looking at one of his baby brothers.

"Well, there must be a reason of why this small change." Jason crossed his arms.

"...And if we follow him to find out the reason?" Duke suggested.

"Wouldn't he notice?" Dick raised an eyebrow.

"It won't hurt giving it a try," he shrugged.

"I say we do it. What can end up wrong?" Jason pointed out.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣🌸￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

"All of this is ridiculous," Damian murmured.

"You agreed to it Habibi," Jason hummed, making Damian click his tongue.

The brothers managed to follow Tim to his school. That was the moment they noticed a male getting closer to Tim with a smile.

You were a new addition, they quickly realized. As they had never seen you before with Tim. And Tim seemed at ease with you.

"A boy?" Dick said amused. "That's the cause for Tim's subtle change?"

Don't get him wrong, his baby brother can date whoever he wants. He was just surprised Tim changed because of someone else.

"Who is dumb enough to be interested in him?" Damian replied, clearly not believing what he was seeing.

"That guy we just saw, apparently," Duke hummed.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩ

"Everything okay, Amor?" You asked Tim, as he seemed to be slightly on edge.

"Yeah...I just feel like someone's watching me." Tim replied, sighing as he left his head rest on your shoulder. He was tired, you could tell.

You hummed softly as one hand came to brush his hair out of his face.

"When did you last slept?" You asked him, quietly enough for no one else to hear you.

Tim grumbled quietly, avoiding the question.

"Cariño, when did you last slept?" You asked again with a small sigh.

"...48 hours ago?"

"Tim."

"You asked."

"Do I have to drug you for you to sleep properly?" You murmured, gently massaging his scalp.

"Mmm....maybe," Tim replied back, closing his eyes as he left you touch his hair.

"What am I supposed to do with you, Amor?"

"Love me," Tim replied.

"I already do that, it's easy," you said amused.

Tim grumbled some sort of answer that you couldn't process.

"Yeah, you're definitely sleep deprived, Amor."

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

#dc x male reader #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x male reader #dc x reader #batfamily #batfam #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #reader #male reader

309 notes · View notes

luveline · 9 months

Note

hey jade!! i love kisses before dinner and was wondering (if you like the idea) maybe you could write something about avery realising how scary giving birth can be and starts worry about it before the new baby arrives? <3<3<3

thank you for your request! kisses before dinner —mom!you and dad!steve comfort avery when she has concerns for your health. fem!reader, 3k

cw discussed maternal mortality and death

Steve Harrington looks out over the kitchen table that night with a great sense of success. You're sitting at the other end with Dove on your knee, feeding her bites of macaroni cheese between feigned spoonfuls given to her rainbow teddy bear. Bethie sits to his left eating without complaint (a victory considering her pickiness). Avery sits to his right, trying to pour her own glass from the juice jug. It's awesome.

Steve quickly swallows the drink he'd been sipping on and offers to help her, hand extended, "Here. I got it."

"I can do it," Avery insists, her long arms shaking under the weight.

He doesn't mind her being independent, nor her improving capabilities, but the last thing he wants to do tonight is clean up a huge juice spill. Steve takes the juice gently and refills her plastic cup.

"Dad," she whines.

"Avery," he whines back.

She huffs and grabs her fork, ignoring her fresh cup of juice to shovel in bites of broccoli and macaroni instead.

"I think I'm done," Bethie says. Steve must have jinxed it.

He attempts to do the impossible —convince Bethie to finish dinner. He takes up station by the side of her chair, having tried everything now, and only this works.

"Beth," he says, putting his hand behind her back, "Are you sure there's no room left? I don't want you to be hungry again before we go to bed 'cos you won't tell me, will you?"

"I'm full," she insists, reaching for her drink bottle.

"Is there something wrong with it?" he asks, rubbing up and down her back.

"No, daddy, it's nice," she says. She isn't quite convincing, but she tries.

Steve looks at her. She looks like Steve sometimes, like neither of you other times, but mostly he looks at her and he sees you. Your smile, your frown, Bethie's tell is the same as yours when she lies. Steve can read you both like a book.

"Is it cold?" he asks, sticking his pinky finger in the corner of her macaroni. "A little. If I heat it back up for you, would that make it better?"

"No, please," she says.

He sighs. "Make you something else? Sandwiches?"

"I'm not hungry, daddy."

Steve plasters a smile over his worries and kisses her cheek. "Okie smokie. Well done, honey, you ate lots and lots. Let's try even more for breakfast, yeah?"

"Yes!" she agrees, sliding off of her chair.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"Need to pee!" she yells, running to the stairs. She opens the baby gate (which she’s known how to do for too many years, way before supposed to know how to —thanks so much, Avery) and Steve listens to her sprint up the stairs with a wince.

"Call me if you need help!" he yells after her.

"Okay!"

"You think that's why she didn't want to eat?" you ask, wiping the corners of Dove's mouth with her bib.

Steve stands up and stretches his arms behind his head. "I don't know," he says, rolling his neck around in a circle.

"Is it gross if I eat her leftovers?" you ask.

"I'll make you another pot, if you want it," Steve offers, arms dropping down to his side. He's been trying to get back into shape lately. It's not working out. "You having cravings?"

"I'm just hungry all the time," you say, your voice melding into a sing song as you finish wiping Dove's face. "All done! Good girl, Dovey! You're my good girl." You plaster her forehead with a layer of kisses before putting her down on the floor. She wobbles, hands on your thighs. "Okay? You want another drink?"

"Dotty Dolly," she says, taking your hand. "Please. Please, Dolly."

"Yeah, my love. I'm coming." You groan as you stand up, not quite pregnant enough to worry about popping soon but more than enough to feel exhaustion to the marrow.

"Just me and you then," Steve says to Avery, tucking in chairs and piling plates at the table.

"Me and you, sir," she agrees in a funny voice.

"Still mad at me?"

She remembers to glare at him. "Yes!" She takes another bite of macaroni. "Okay, no."

"If you're not gonna chew with your mouth closed, put your hand over your mouth. I don't wanna see your chewed up dinner." Avery pokes her tongue out, laughing when Steve says, "Ewww."

He sets the leftovers aside for you rather than waste Bethie's largely untouched pasta in the trash, stacking the dishes in the sink and wetting a cloth to wipe down the table. He cleans around Avery, squeezing her neck, shoulders and arms to make her squirm as he goes.

"You want seconds?" he asks, returning to the sink.

"I want dessert."

"Good idea. You know Mom's so pregnant all she does lately is wake me up for ice cream."

"She wakes you up?" Avery asks.

"By accident trying to put her socks on at the end of the bed. Baby's getting too big now, she can't see her toes."

"It's a good thing she has you, dad."

"Yeah, but you'd help mommy, wouldn't you? Help her put her shoes on if she couldn't reach?"

Avery hops off of her chair and passes him her plate, completely clean of food. She grows like a bamboo shoot and eats like a rabid dog. He loves it. She's evidence that he's a good cook.

"Thank you. What did you want for dessert?" he asks.

"I have something to ask you."

"Oh." Steve hates the sound of that, theorising that she wants a new something or other he'll have to say no to. He grabs her by the waist, wet hands and all, hoisting her up onto the counter by the dish rack. He puts a rag in her hands. "You dry and I'll answer."

"It's a weird question," Avery warns.

"Avery, you wouldn't believe how weird some of the questions I've asked are. Don't worry about it."

He scrunches dirty water out of the dish sponge and squirts soap onto a dirty plate. The hot water burns his fingertips. Avery dries a plastic plate diligently, her question coming out slow as running wax.

"Mom's gonna be okay, right?" she asks quietly.

Steve fights to keep his eyebrows down. They bob anyways. "Okay from what?"

"When she has the baby. She's not going to get hurt?"

"Well, having a baby really hurts. But there's medicine for her to take, and I'll be there to hold her hand."

"No," Avery says, frowning, "that's not…"

"Sorry, Ave. Ask me again, try a different word."

She puts the dried plate down to her left and picks another to dry. "Will mom die?"

"No," he says. Doesn't miss a beat, though his pulse capers. He knows that childbirth is hard, that lots of things can go wrong, but if he truly thought you might die he wouldn't have asked for another baby. And even if he did think it were going to happen, it's not a thought Avery needs to have. "She won't die, I promise you. Where'd you get that idea, honey?"

"Jordan's mom died having a baby."

Steve nods and tries to recalibrate the conversation. He knew of Jordan's mom passing away, he made a couple of trays of food for Jordan's dad and put money in the collection plate for her memorial, but he didn't know Avery knew precisely how it happened.

"Right, she did," he says gently. "And that's scary, huh?"

"Why can't it happen to mommy if it happened to her?" Avery asks.

Steve shuts off the water. Hand still wet, he rubs his forehead roughly. "Can I have that?" he asks Avery, gesturing for the dish cloth. She gives it to him, putting down her last plate, and Steve wipes his fingers dry to pick her up without getting her wet a second time.

"Let's have a talk," he says, tilting his head to the side. He sees his eyes looking back at him, smaller and softer, longer lashes but the same honeyed brown. "Me, you, and mommy. Okay?"

"Dad," she says, startled.

"It's okay, It'll be better if you talk to mom, too, because it's mom that's already had babies, not me. I think I know everything because my brain is so big and stuff, but I can't tell you what your mom is thinking."

"I don't want mommy to get upset," she says.

It's partially his fault for asking her to tell him if there's a problem rather than you a few weeks ago. He didn't want you walking up and down the stairs unnecessarily, and your blood pressure is something they've been keeping an eye on. He didn't mean for Avery to bottle things up. Every time Steve thinks he's doing something right it finds a way to bite him in the ass.

"I meant if Bethie's turned the faucet on and flooded the bathroom, or if you want to change your bed or something, not that you can't ask her things that are worrying you," he says, readjusting her weight. Her knees dig into his sides as he carries her to the living room doorway from the kitchen.

"Hey, mom?" he asks.

Your head jumps up. You're sitting on the edge of the couch with Dove's face in your knee, a dribble patch dampening your pants. Bethie has her hand in yours sitting next to you. You're still in your work clothes, your bump straining against everything now, but yet to drop. He'll have to wash your pants tonight.

"Hey?" you say, a guilty smile tugging up your pretty mouth. "I'm coming to do the dishes, I swear. My girls caught me in their net."

"Can we talk to you? For a minute," Steve says.

Your eyes widen. You stand up with a funny noise like someone's stepped on your toes, lifting Dove by the armpits to sit next to Bethie. You kiss the girls goodbye and they're too distracted by Dotty Dolly playing on the TV to mind.

"What's wrong?" you ask, following Steve back into the kitchen.

"Want me to explain?" Steve asks Avery. She nods. "Avery's a little worried about you."

"About me?" You put your hands under your face and beam at her. "What's worrying you? I've never been better."

"She's worried about when you have the baby."

"'Cos of Jordan's mom," Avery whispers.

You hear it despite her small voice, your smile sobering. "I see… I see. You know… you're a big girl, Avery. You're my big girl, and I wish I could keep you this young forever sometimes, but I know that you know that people don't get to stay with us forever, so I don't want to scare you, but I'll tell you what I think, yeah?"

Avery swallows around nothing.

Steve gives her back a sympathetic pat. "It's okay," he says to her, enthusing his voice with some pep to calm her down.

"Jordan's mommy was sick when she passed away," you say, your hand resting on your bump now, inching closer to Steve and Avery where they've paused under the kitchen light. "She knew things were going to be hard. When you have a baby, you know things won't be easy, but it's not fair. It's very sad. She," —you look at Steve with a parent familiar fear that says, Am I saying the right things?— "said goodbye before anyone wanted her too, but Avery." Steve knows what you're going to say. It's a promise he made only minutes ago, one that you have no control over keeping, but a necessary one nonetheless to make. You could very well have complications down the line, things could spin out of control, but Avery doesn't need the stress of that hanging over her. "I promise you here and now that I'm not going anywhere. Daddy won't let me."

He laughs a little breathlessly. "Damn straight."

"But daddy isn't a doctor," Avery says, holding out her arm.

You walk into Avery's reach, letting her climb from Steve's arms to yours without complaint. "He didn't have time to be a doctor, he was too busy being the best dad ever."

"Are you flirting with me?" Steve asks.

"Duh, Stevie." You turn your attention to Avery, struggling to hold her and stroke a hair from her face. "Don't worry about me. Promise me you won't, Ave."

"I just don't want you to go away," Avery says with a frown.

Steve feels an unexpected heat behind his eyes. You smile softly, your thumb on Avery's cheek. "Then I won't. I'll stay. I can't go anywhere without you, gorgeous."

Steve strokes the back of Avery's head. "And I can't be without either of you, so mom doesn't have a choice."

He wishes things were that simple. Steve has no idea what the future holds, but he chooses to believe it'll be a good one, where every one of his girls gets to grow old. But the future isn't something he can predict nor change by wishing alone.

"Did that make much sense to you, sweetheart?" you ask Avery.

"It makes sense. Sorry."

You and Steve make twin sounds of loving disbelief.

"Sorry for what?" you ask, as Steve says, "No, God, don't be sorry!"

"It's okay to ask me stuff," you say.

"That's what we're here for."

Avery wraps her arms around your neck. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" she whispers, near imperceptibly, Steve's ears straining to hear her under the sounds of the water heater and the television.

"I'm sure. I've done it three times already."

"Are you scared?"

You shake your head resolutely. "No. You know why?"

"Why?"

"'Cos I know, at the end of it I might get another little girl who's just like you. Or like Beth, or Dove. Maybe I'll get one who's nothing like any of you, but I know with such a great big sister she's going to be amazing."

Avery rests her cheek on your shoulder. "You think so?"

"I know so."

"Thank you," she says.

You laugh again. "For what?" you ask, nails raking up and down the length of her back. "Only telling you what's true. Me and daddy think you're the bestest."

Steve rubs his face with both hands rather than cry. Crying makes his eyes sore and he has to wake up at six AM tomorrow to take the girls to swimming lessons at seven thirty. (He also doesn't want Avery to see him crying and get the wrong idea, what with the previous conversation.)

"Mom?" Bethie asks in the doorway.

"Yes?" you murmur, resting your head atop Avery's gently.

"Excuse me."

You laugh a charmed laugh and scoot out of the way, resting your weight on the door jam. Bethie looks incredibly small idling at his feet, even though Dove is much smaller. She smiles nervously.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He pretends to be nonchalant, while inside he's thinking about lots of things. Avery's huge heart and all her worries. Bethie's emerging cheekiness after years of quiet. Dove's roaring giggle when you squeeze her just right. And you, your bump, your devotion to him and the girls, but more than that —your voice and how you talk with all the good you possess. How you're talking now to Avery in dulcet tones.

Bethie takes his hand. "Can I have the rest of my mac and cheese, please?"

"Yeah, babe. Unless you want dessert instead?"

His hand sways in her grip. "I want mac and cheese if that's okay."

Steve picks her up with a typical dad groan. He'll check on Dove first, but he has no qualms with warming her mac and cheese. He'd offer to make you another helping if you weren't distracted entirely, nose bridge nuzzling into Avery's neck.

He doesn't know what the future holds, but he hopes for more of this.

852 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 7 months

Text

Very tight places - Kinktober 3

Summary: You're stuck with a soulless Sam again.

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x fem!Reader

Square 8 filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo: Amnesia

Square 6 filled for @samwinchesterbingo: Dirty Talk

Warnings: soulless!Sam being his asshole self, cheating (kinda), smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of anal sex, creampie, claustrophilia, blasphemie

Rating: Explicit

Kink: Claustrophilia

Words:

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Catch up here: Cramped (1) & Tight places (2)

Six months later you are still hunting with Dean and Sam. You didn’t want to leave the elder Winchester alone with his soulless brother.

Who are you trying to kid? The ugly and embarrassing truth is, that you can’t stay away from Sam for too long.

He’s intoxicating. You’re high on him, and the way he fucks you. If you had an ounce of dignity left, you’d tell the bastard to fuck off. But you are too far gone to care.

Most nights, you let him do unspeakable things to you. Dean stumbled in on you and his brother, calling you sick more than once. He wrinkles his nose anytime Sam gropes you in front of his brother.

Sam has no filter. In any way. When it comes to sex, he doesn’t care if you are in the middle of a case, at a hospital, or buying groceries. Sam wants you, and he gets you.

Anytime. Anywhere.

“Sam, what are we doing here, dressed in the cheapest costumes we could find,” you grumble as Sam decides you must play nun and priest to solve your latest case.

Dean is out and about to find Death. Not to die this time, but to convince Death himself to help him get Sam’s soul back.

Sam is not amused. He wants to stay like this. New and improved. Deadly, focused, and with a sexual appetite making even Dean blush.

“I look ridiculous. They will not believe I’m a nun.” Glancing around the almost empty church you sigh. At least there are not many people around to witness your poor performance.

“Why?” Sam resists the urge to grope your ass. Seeing you in your nun costume got him rock-hard. If not for the case he wants to solve, he’d have you bent over the altar already. “We look just the same as the priest I knocked out to get his clothes.”

“You did what?” you stop in your tracks to gape at Sam. “Please tell me you didn’t knock a priest out, Samuel Winchester. I don’t want to go to hell only because you have no impulse control.”

Sam smirks darkly. “You are so cute when mad,” he dips his head to whisper, “not so cute while you writhe on my fat cock. You’re a whore, not a saint. I know how you like it. Dirty and rough.”

“Sam, can you for once not think about your dick?” You growl. “We still need to find the monster killing the people at the church. Sadly, the only witness still suffers from amnesia.”

“That’s where you come in,” Sam purrs. “I didn’t want you to wear this iconic tunic only for fun. You are the one taking Sister Margaret’s place. You’ll fit in just fine.”

“I don’t want to play the next victim for the monster. Which by the way, you still didn’t identify, Sam. Maybe you shouldn’t have spent the last night at the bar with that blonde,” you snap at the hunter. You don’t give a shit if your blow your cover. Sam won’t get away with treating you like a random bitch he can fuck and leave afterward.

“Y/N, be honest with me,” he chuckles at your angry expression, “are you jealous because you are in love with me?“

“You wish,” you walk away, too angry to be around Sam today. Are you jealous? Of course, you are. Sam and you spent the last months together. Most of the time in the sheets. But last night, he told you to leave and didn’t return until early in the morning.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” Sam mocks you. “I know you love me. You draw hearts and imagine walking down the aisle while I wait for you to give you the ring.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you turn back around to snap at Sam. “I can’t wait for Dean to get your soul back. The moment you have it back, I’m gone. Don’t believe I stuck around for you and your limp dick. I did it for Dean because he’s a good man. Always was.”

“You want my brother?” His features darken, and you can see the change in Sam’s eyes. You take a step back. You know the look in his eyes. It’s the same one you see when he’s about to attack a monster. “Well, too bad. He can’t have you.”

“He can have me if he wants me.” It’s your turn to pay Sam back for all the times you asked yourself if he’s with some other girl. “Just like you had that pretty little thing last night.”

Sam snorts. “She was boring and wanted to go on a date first.” He casually says. As if this excuses his behavior, and how he treated you last night. “Come. I show you something nice.”

“Sam, I’m not in the mood for one of your games. Let’s just solve this case and we can go our separate ways. I stuck around far longer than I intended to.” You huff as Sam once again, ignores your protests. He grabs you by your arm and drags you toward the confession booth.

“Sam! What are you doing?”

“Shush now, I saw someone,” he pushes you inside the booth and closes the door behind him. You gulp. You’re stuck in a tight place with Sam again. “Do you have your gun?”

“What kind of question is that Winchester? I’m not an idiot!”

“Good. Stay in here and wait for me,” he turns around to look at you. Something flashes in his eyes before he turns around to leave the booth. Not without telling you to lock it, though…

You’re gnawing at your nails. Sam left you at the confession booth half an hour ago, and now you don’t know if you left the booth to help him or not.

You press your ear to the door, listening to your breathing. There is not a sound, and you wonder if Sam messed with you and just left the church.

“Open the door,” Sam knocks at the door, “now.”

“Fuck, Winchester,” you curse, but unlock the door to drag Sam inside. He closes it behind him once again and releases an annoyed huff as you check him for injuries.

“You can't wait to put your hands on me again, huh?” Sam turns around to look you up and down. “You know,” he licks his lips. His large hands shoot toward your face to cradle it for a moment, “I think you should confess your sins to me, my dear.”

“I said I’m not in the mood for one of your games,” you pout and cross your arms over your chest. “Why did you leave me in here, all alone? Did you find the monster?”

“I fucked the nuns and gave them a good spanking,” Sam deadpans. “What do you think I did? I kept you safe. The monster wasn’t here. We will find them, though.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“And you are still my whore. My brother can’t have you,” he moves his hand to your throat. “Say it.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish I would,” he chuckles as you claw at the hand holding your throat in a tight grip. “OR maybe I should remind you of your worth. Turn around, lift your tunic, sister. I want to see your cunt.”

“No.”

“Do it or I swear I’ll drag you out of here and fuck you on the altar like I wanted to,” he warns. You know Sam is not joking. If you don’t do as he says, he’ll drag you out and have his way with you on the altar.

He drops his hand from your throat, smirking as you slowly turn around. You shove the black tunic up your body to reveal your ass to him.

“I hate you so much.”

“No panties,” Sam moves his hand between your legs to find you dripping for him. “you’re such a whore for me. I can’t believe I found someone like you.”

You should knee his balls and just leave him there. Instead, you press your hands against the wooden wall and brace yourself for Sam’s massive cock. He’s not a fan of foreplay when he’s like that.

“My whore.” He runs his large hand over your back, down to your ass. “Look at you, ready to have my cock. I think I’ll go for your ass today.”

You suck in a breath. It’s always a struggle to take him up your ass. Especially when he’s impatient.

“Here?”

“Aw, my little cockslut loves having me up her ass, huh?” His pants drop to the ground before you can even choke out a moan. Sam is on you in a blink. One hand moves between your legs to slap your pussy. “Answer me!”

“YES!”

“Louder!”

“I love your cock up my ass,” he slaps your pussylips again, and again until your tender flesh throbs and you soak his hand. “I want to feel it all the time.”

“Beg me,” he slings his arm around your throat. “Y/N, I’m not asking,” Sam growls in your ear. “I want to hear you beg.”

“Please give me your cock, Father Winchester,” he bends your body to his will and rams himself inside of your leaking cunt.

“Fuck,” Sam is not gentle. All he gives you is his free hand between your legs to toy with your clit. He snaps his hips into your ass, making you cry out with every deep thrust. “I love it when cry a little.”

“Ass-hole,” you press your hands hard against the wooden wall. “I hate you so much.”

Sam doesn’t care about your words, or that you soak his cock only a few thrusts later. He batters your cunt, hoping to force another orgasm out of you to make you see that only he can fulfill your desires.

“You make the sweetest noises when I fuck you,” he nips at your earlobe, teeth sinking in your flesh to tug at it. You moan and push back onto him. Sam knows exactly which buttons he must push to get what he wants. “I’m going to fill this cunt up again.”

You hiss his name when your body sizes up. You tremble in his arms and close your eyes as your orgasm washes over you. When he fucks you like this, from behind you can pretend it’s the real Sam, not the broken version of the hunter.

“You’re such a good slut for me, Y/N. I’ll never let you go,” his words a more threat than a promise. His hips begin to stutter. “Open that pussy for me, take my cum…”

You don’t know how you made it out of the church without getting caught. Sam’s cum ran down your thighs as he dragged you out of the place you stained with your sins.

Back at the motel, you try to make him talk to you. Sam sits across you, just staring at you.

“Sam, we still need to find the monster.” You sigh as he ignores you. “SAM! The monster.”

“It was a hoax,” he shrugs and drops his eyes to your legs. “I wanted to fuck you at a church in a confession booth.”

“There is no monster?” Your jaw drops. “You drove to the middle of nowhere, and forced me to wear a nun costume only for sex.”

“Roleplay, kitten. It’s essential to keep my dick hard.” He watches you squirm on the bed. “Be good and spread your legs. Let me see your tainted cunt.”

“Sam…can you just not be so crass all the time?”

“I said,” he gets up from his seat to stand in front of your bed, “spread your legs and show me your well-fucked and cum stained cunt.”

“Fine,” you fall back onto the bed and spread your legs. “Satisfied.”

“Hmm…I don’t know,” he unbuckles his belt with one hand and shoves his pants down his legs. “I think you need more cum in your pussy…”

“Please tell me you got him out,” Dean looks at Death.

“I got his soul, and we should hurry but,” Death looks Dean straight in the eyes, “I must warn you. This soul got ripped apart, and there is not much left of the brother you knew…

#sam winchester #anyfandomgoesbingo #samwinchesterbingo #soulless sam #sam winchester smut #soulless!sam #smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #kinktober vs flufftober 2023

324 notes · View notes

mopeyy · 4 months

Text

Little Hunter

Avatar Frontiers of Pandora

Eetu x Navi! Reader

Vocab:

taronyutsyìp - Little Hunter

woosh. You groaned as another arrow missed the target. No matter how many times you practiced, you still had the aim of a child. How were you supposed to hunt if you couldn't even hit the target? You sighed in defeat as you walked to pick up your arrow. Suddenly you heard a cocky laugh from behind you. You rolled your eyes, knowing who would be there when you turned around. "I guess archery isn't your strong suit, Sarentu." You reached down, picked up your arrow, and started walking back to your position. "Shut up, Eetu; you're supposed to be my teacher, so if I'm failing, it could only be your fault," you suggested. He laughed as he made his way toward you. "It's not my fault you are this way. The sky people have taught you to hold a gun and not a longbow." When he reached you, he tilted his head and clicked his tongue. "I see what's happening. You're standing all wrong. here,"

He stood behind you and pushed you to his chest, fixing your posture. "You need to keep your back straight and loosen your shoulders." He slid his hands up to your shoulders and pushed them back. "And you should hold your bow like this." His hands moved towards your arms, adjusting them, before placing his hands over yours, making sure you were holding the bow right. "Do you see how much better that feels?"

He was so close that when he spoke, you could feel his breath on your neck. You only nodded in response, scared that no words would come out if you tried to speak. He slid his leg in between yours and used it to widen your stance. "Stand like this, nice and firm." He moved his hands off of yours and slid them down to your waist. His voice was next to your ear as he spoke, "Now feel the wind, and when it is calm, shoot."

You watched how the leaves on the trees shook and how the grass moved. When it all stilled and you no longer felt the breeze on your face, you released the arrow. It sliced through the air faster and smoother than it ever had. For the first time, it hit the target. Not completely in the center, but it was better than you had done before.

Eetu released your waist and took a step back, giving you some space. "You're already improving, Sarentu." He said this with pride in his voice. You turned around to face him with a smile. "That was the best my aim has ever been. Will you keep helping me practice?" You hoped he would say yes. You wanted to get better so you could hunt, and you didn't mind Eetus's company. "I can't; I promised I would hunt arrow deer for the meal tonight." You sighed in disappointment. "I take it back; you're a bad teacher." You joked and crossed your arms with a smile.

"ouch, you're hurting my feelings, taronyutsyìp. If I could stay and help you, I would, but I have better things to do." He smiled. You scoffed and turned back to your practice. He playfully rolled his eyes and said, "I'm only joking with you; come find me at the bonfire tonight. We can speak then." He offered. You opened your mouth to reply, "Maybe, it depends if I go." You shrugged. "Right, well then maybe I'll see you tonight." He said, then left as someone started calling his name in the distance.

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

The fire was bright against the dark sky and the embers danced in the air. All of Pandora glowed around you. It was a breathtaking sight. The fire was huge, surrounded by dancing Na'vi. And the air smelled sweet, must have been the smell of today's hunt. You could never get enough of Aranahe cooking. You decided to go to the bonfire tonight and try to have fun. It was better than having your ear talked off by Teylan at the resistance base.

You spotted a table full of delicious meat and fruit. mmm. you hadn't eaten all day and couldn't wait to dig in. You squeezed through some dancers on your way to the table. You almost made it until someone grabbed you by the arm. Suddenly you were thrown into a dance by another Na'vi. You were being pulled every which way, so fast that you hadn't even realized you were dancing. Every time you tried to break free you were passed to someone else and forced to keep dancing. It was an endless cycle.

Finally, out of breath, you broke free. You stumbled out of the dance circle, fixing your hair while doing so. You didn't dance often, and you had never danced like that. You regained your breath and continued your previous task: getting to the food table. This time you were able to do so with no distractions. When you reached the table you huffeed in annoyance. Of course, all the food would now be gone.

Someone approaches you and stands at your side. "Were you hoping to eat?" They questioned. You looked to the side and made eye contact with no other than Eetu. "Yes, but I'm too late." you sighed. He laughed and then handed you a kebab stacked with meat and fruits. "Here you can have mine, I only took a bite." He offered. You smiled at him, "Thank you." You took a bite and it had to be the best thing you ever tasted. The meat and fruit made each bite savory and sweet, a perfect combination. He laughed at your eagerness, "You must be so hungry after all that dancing huh." He snickered.

You paused your eating and your ears quickly reddened with embarrassment, "You saw that?" you prayed to Eywa that his answer would be no, but your prayers were not answered. "Of course I saw it, everyone did. Who knew the Sarentu could dance." He said, teasingly. You put the finished kebab down and used your hands to hide your face. Eetu grinned and moved your hands away from your face.

"It wasn't bad taronyutsyìp. You tried really hard to keep up with the dancers, I thought it was cute." He gave you a squeeze on the shoulder in an attempt to make you feel better. You let out a soft smile,

"Maybe I should pursue dancing and quit hunting."

"slow down, don't get too cocky."

You two shared a laugh.

The laughter between you and Eetu lingered in the air. As the night wore on, the bonfire's glow seemed to cast a spell over the gathering, with the Na'vi's vibrant blue skin illuminated by the flickering flames. Eetu's eyes held a spark that mirrored the firelight, and you found yourself captivated by the way his presence seemed to command the space around him.

As the night deepened, Eetu's gaze turned thoughtful, and he leaned in closer to share a story from his youth. He spoke of a time when he too struggled with the bow, how he overcame his shortcomings through perseverance and the guidance of a mentor. His words were not just a tale of personal triumph but a subtle lesson on the importance of patience and practice.

The conversation shifted as Eetu inquired about your life before Pandora, your dreams, and what you hoped to achieve among the Na'vi. You found yourself opening up, sharing stories of your time with the RDA and your own challenges. It was a moment of mutual understanding, a bridge being built between two worlds.

By the end of the night, you and Eetu had learned a lot about each other.

#eetu #avatar frontiers of pandora #avatar frontiers of pandora x reader #eetu x reader #eetu avatar frontiers of pandora

205 notes · View notes

thegainingdesk · 9 months

Text

On Again, Off Again

As soon as I saw Mark I was head over heels. He was tall and naturally broad, a frame improved with well-honed muscles from years of manual labour. A mop of thick dark hair framed a broad, almost blocky face with dark brown eyes and a thick moustache, and mirrored tufts of hair poking out from the top of his shirt and at his cuffs. His voice was deep, but soft, with a slight Bristol accent.

He’d suggested we go to a local museum for our first date - I’d mentioned that I did art history at uni when we were talking on tinder, and there was an exhibition on the early impressionists. I spent a while pointing out some of my favourite paintings, explaining some of the techniques, the use of light, how the movement was different to what had come before but quickly noticed how quiet he was being and my initial attraction started to wane.

“Sorry,” he said after I asked him for the umpteenth time if everything was okay. “I don’t mean to- it’s just, I mean…”

I looked at him, expectantly. Despite myself, despite how flat the date was falling, I found myself crushing on him all over again, looking up into those big puppy dog eyes.

“I wanted to impress you a bit,” he said finally, running his hand across his moustache nervously.

I laughed reflexively, and felt awful as I saw him wince. “What do you mean, impress me? You don’t need to impress me.”

“I know, it’s not… You just said that you were into art and stuff, and that you work with this charity and-” He stopped and sighed. “I’m just this knob-head builder, you know? I didn’t think someone like you would really want to go out with someone like me, and I thought you were cute and the lads at the site said I should do something a bit fancy and… I’ve fucked this up, haven’t I?”

I shook my head. “You’re great. Really. I chose to go out with you, didn’t I?” He shrugged those gorgeous hulking shoulders, somehow looking like a scolded schoolboy, despite his size. “Go on, where would you usually take me on a first date, if you weren’t trying to go all fancy on me?”

“No, no, really,” he insisted, unconvincingly. “I’m enjoying myself here.” He pointed at the nearest painting, a Turner painting of a choppy sea, a bright red buoy at the centre. “Go on, tell me about that one.”

I took his hand, and felt my heart flutter as a smile spread across his face. “Seriously, I agreed to go on a date with you because you were a good laugh while we were texting.” A blush spread across his stubbled cheeks. Fuck, he was hot. “Where we going?” I pulled him towards the exit.

“A pub or something, I dunno,” he mumbled. “We can stay, really.”

“Not a chance,” I retorted. “It's your round - you can’t wriggle out of it that easy.”

A couple of drinks in, the date was thoroughly back on track. Mark was funny, charming and charismatic - I’d go so far as to say he was gregarious, but trying to keep up with the way Mark drank turned that into a few too many syllables for me at the time. A few more drinks and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other - looking back, I cringe at the scene we must have made in that pub. Charitably, you could say we were somewhat hidden away in a corner; realistically, it was a Saturday evening in the city center and people were probably gawping.

“I told myself I wouldn’t fuck you tonight,” he grumbled into my ear, while his big square hand pawed at my achingly hard dick. “That I’d wait a couple of dates.”

I was practically gnawing at him at this point, my mouth deep into the soft crevice between his thick, strong neck and his strong, yard-wide shoulders. “This is basically our second date,” I told his neck. “The museum was number one, the pub is number two.”

I heard him laugh into my hair. “I’m serious, I’m trying to break some bad habits. Trying not to have so much casual sex.”

I moaned. “I’ll give you permission to make an exception.”

“I don’t want this to just be sex,” he whispered. “I really like you.”

“It doesn’t have to just be sex,” I whimpered back. “But it could also be sex.”

I heard him - felt him - practically growl. “I suppose if you came back to mine, we wouldn’t necessarily have to have sex.”

I nodded, and lifted my head to look him in the eyes. “Absolutely, no sex.”

The sex was phenomenal. It was like something out of an 80s romance novel. It was animalistic but sensual, passionate but slow. I think I actually swooned. Mark could throw me about like a ragdoll, and he made good use of that ability. His body was covered almost top to toe in dark, wiry hair, and his cock was so thick I could barely get my mouth around it - but by god I gave it a go.

We spent all of the next day together, nursing twin hangovers and cuddling up on his sofa. Mark explained his philosophy that the only worthwhile hangover cure is as much food as you can manage to keep down. While I nibbled on bread and butter and sipped on water all day, there was barely a moment where he didn’t have some food on the go - bacon and egg sandwiches for breakfast, clearing his fridge for lunch, a string on deliveroo drivers.

By the time I felt well-enough to go home, he tried to convince me to call in sick to work the next day. Tangled up with him like that, I almost did. Even so, I managed to drag myself away, with the promise of seeing him on Friday.

We didn’t make it to Friday. We met up for dinner on Tuesday. Lunch on Wendesday. On Thursday I packed a bag and decided I could just go into the office from his flat in the morning. We were inseparable. Insufferable, most likely. But we couldn’t stop ourselves, didn’t want to stop.

The dinners out, the takeaways, the long days spent cuddled up without a thought of the gym started to add up - on Mark at least. And yes, maybe I encouraged that a little, but I’m allowed a type aren’t I? Okay, maybe more than a type - a predilection, if you were being fancy, a full-blown fetish if you were being honest. So I like them big! Is that a crime? I never went overboard - never stirred butter and double cream into all of his portions, never tricked him into gainer shakes, never slipped him appetite enhancers or miraculous weight-gain pills - I’m not the protagonist of a gainer story, after all.

All I did was nurture that healthy appetite of his. Gave him my unfinished portions, asked him if he wanted seconds, encouraged him to get dessert, muttered into his ear that no, he can’t go to the gym and leave me in bed, cold and alone, that I’d give him all the work-out he needed. He never complained, and I never made any real secret that I didn’t mind him putting on some weight.

It was subtle at first. He’d never had any abs to cover up, but there was a general loss of definition - muscular limbs got smoothed out, pecs started to go puffy, his belly started to permanently bow out into a little arc. His body, already big, sailed past 220 pounds easily enough, and you could barely tell that he’d put on any weight at all, not really, until he’d hit 240 or so.

But then, my god. It’s like some magical fat threshold was reached, almost overnight, like all the gaps in his body had been filled with fat, his whole body lightly covered with a thin sheen of chub, ready for the real work to build up over it. Smooth limbs got soft, puffy pecs drooped, his little distended belly curved out in all directions to form a proper little pot belly. Not six months into our relationship, he was sitting fat and happy at 260 pounds, a firm ball gut at his center, and all traces of that muscular hunk that tried to impress me at a museum were buried under soft, gorgeous flab. If he ever got self-conscious, he never said anything. Still, I told him how gorgeous he was, how sexy the extra weight made him, how he looked more manly, more mature.

We settled into a routine; huge dinners, hot sex, movie nights spent cradling his growing gut, an occasional date night at some new restaurant before moving onto a pub or a bar. We spent so much time at each other’s flats we both assumed we’d move in together sooner rather than later, that this would all last forever.

“Australia?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“I know, I know,” he said, pacing and stroking his moustache nervously. “But the money’s so good, I can’t really pass it up.” I closed my eyes. Gripped the table. Tried to wish it away. “It wouldn’t be forever,” he said, lamely.

“It would be for a year though,” I whispered, opening my eyes.

He slumped down into the chair opposite me. One hand continued to stroke his moustache, the other sat on the shelf of his belly, stroking it ever so slightly. Even while I was distraught he could still drive me wild without even trying. “I’m sorry,” he said simply after a while. I knew there wasn’t any point arguing. That I wouldn’t want to stop him taking the opportunity. It just hurt.

We agreed we’d not wait for each other. We’d stay in touch, but we’d be free to date, and if either of us met someone over the year, or if we’d changed as people, no obligation to go back to how we were.

I spent a full week moping. I became a walking cliche - I barely ate, I barely slept. I sustained myself on a diet of Carole King songs and Richard Curtis films. Mark never had any social media - barely used his phone for anything really - a fact which I was, in turns, thankful for and furious about. On one hand, at least I couldn’t obsessively stalk his profiles all year while I missed him, on the other hand, I couldn’t even stalk his profiles all year while I missed him.

I still can’t decide if that year went fast or slow. There were points when it felt like I was going through the same old bored routines for decades, and days when I’d realise how soon I could see Mark again and it would feel like seconds. I did my best to get on with my life - I met with friends, picked up hobbies I’d let fall to the side while I spent every day with Mark, even plucked up the courage to go on a date. It was nice. He was nice. But it wasn’t Mark. I’m not even sure I could tell you his name. After that, I resigned myself to waiting.

I’m back! The text said. My heart fluttered. Want to meet up for a drink?

I tried to not reply immediately. Wanted to come across as cool and unbothered.

Amazing!!! I replied, not two minutes later. Yes! Where?

As a cucumber.

The Goose? Or maybe your flat? Up to you.

My heart pounded. Meeting at my flat was not the act of an uninterested man. Meeting at my flat was not the act of a man who’d fallen in love with some gorgeous Australian surfer.

My flat’s fine! I responded.

Great. I’ll be like an hour?

My flat was already impeccably clean - I was a bit of a clean freak as it was, but I had it practically sparkling in anticipation of Mark’s return to the northern hemisphere - but still, I busied myself cleaning every nook and cranny. I hoovered my spotless carpet, smoothed my immaculately smooth bed, dusted corners that I previously didn’t know existed.

I had just decided that the flat was too unnaturally clean, like I’d gone out of my way to clean it for Mark or something, and was in the middle of pulling various items just slightly out of position, when my doorbell rang. I yelped, and hurriedly crumpled a throw blanket, before breathing slowly and making my way to the door. It was just Mark, I told myself. Everything would be just the same as it was before. It’s just Mark. It’s just Mark.

I opened the door to a man I barely recognised. Mark was buff. Beyond buff. The fat I’d so deviously piled on him over all those months had disappeared without a trace. He’d not simply returned to the naturally broad, built figure he’d had when I’d first met him, either - he’d added hard, shredded muscle - at a guess I’d say 20 pounds easy. His face was thinner, sharper; his arms were vascular, and I could swear I saw the stitches on his sleeves almost pulling themselves apart; when he raised his arms and his t-shirt rode up, I could make out a defined six-pack even through his dense pelt of body hair. Worst of all though - he’d shaved off his moustache.

I just stood blinking for a while, until I realised that tears were welling up in my eyes. Despite it all, despite the time, despite the body, despite the fucking moustache - it was Mark. It was really, actually, fucking Mark.

Neither of us said anything, he just stepped through my door, held my face in his hands and kissed me, deeply and desperately and hungrily. We stumbled backwards through my flat, knocking perfectly placed objects as we went, pulling at each other’s clothes, never once stopping kissing, until he picked me up and tossed me onto my bed. This time, I definitely swooned.

We didn’t properly talk until the next morning, while I lay with my head on his chest, my fingers lazily pulling through the curls of his chest hair. “Go on then,” I said. “What’s all this?”

Mark yawned. “What’s what?” he asked.

I lightly slapped his six-pack. “Who invited He-Man over here?”

He laughed. “I bet you had a thing for He-Man didn’t you?” he said, running a hand down my back and squeezing my bum, avoiding the question.

“No really,” I insisted. “What happened to my sexy teddy bear I sent off?” I steeled myself. “I bet it was for all those sexy ozzy men, eh?” I forced myself to laugh.

Mark was silent, and didn’t move.

I held my breath. “It’s fine, you know. We said. Date whoever.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said simply, after a while. “I umm… couldn’t bring myself to. That’s why I spent so much time in the gym actually. To take my mind off of…” He trailed off. “Did you? You know…”

“One guy,” I said. “Just a date, you know, nothing…" I added quickly, keen to reassure him. "It was awful.” I sighed. “No, it was probably fine, it just wasn’t…” I looked over at him, took in his chiseled jawline and perfect cheekbones. “It wasn’t you.” We stayed like that for a while, just smiling at each other. I shuffled up his body to kiss him, and rolled over. “I might have to change my stance on that if you don’t grow your moustache back though.”

We were back to our old routine almost immediately, illicit feedings and all. By the time Mark had regrown his moustache, his abs had been hidden by soft fat and he was on his way back to the Mark I knew and loved. It’s like his body missed the fat - it piled on faster than it had the first time, and within a few months he’d put on all his lost weight, plus extra. His newfound muscles clearly faded a little, being neglected so thoroughly by time spent away from the gym, but they provided a firm base for all the fat to cling to, so that all his fat was perkier and bouncier than last time - I was in heaven.

“I need to lose some weight,” Mark murmured around one of his breakfast donuts one morning. I looked over to see him trying to tug a pair of scruffy work jeans closed, but there were several inches of soft fat between the button and its hole. I inhaled and set my shoulders - it was time to bite the bullet.

“I don’t think you need to lose weight,” I started, nonchalantly.

Mark laughed and shook his gut. I fought to stop myself from getting hard. “Look at me - I’m 20 stone and can’t fit into 40 inch trousers. 40 inches! I need to lose weight,” he repeated.

I stood up and walked over to him, putting a hand on each side of his middle. “I like it,” I told him matter of factly, before kissing him.

He smiled and returned my kiss. “You’re sweet, and I know that you’ll love me no matter what size I am, yada-yada-yada, but come on,” he slapped his belly again. “This is getting ridiculous.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I like it. I…” I inhaled deeply. “I prefer it. Actively prefer you fat, actually.”

He stared at me and blinked, not speaking for almost a whole minute. “You… like me fat?” he asked, finally.

I nodded. "Mm-hmm," I said, as casually as I could pretend to be.

He squinted his eyes at me. “Fatter?” he continued.

“I… wouldn’t complain,” I said slowly, studying his face.

He took a few steps away from me and looked down at himself, as if seeing his body for the first time. He hefted his gut a couple of times, almost experimentally. His hands drifted upwards, squeezed his soft pecs. I just watched, knowing he needed some space. Finally, he raised his head to look at me. “Why?” he asked simply.

I shrugged. “Why is anyone attracted to anything, you know? Big guys have always just done it for me, I guess,” I explained. He carried on looking at me inquisitively, clearly expecting me to continue. “I mean… it just seems more manly, you know? Like you’re tall and you’re hairy and you’ve got this great moustache and hot face, and being bigger is just one more thing that just makes you even more masculine, you know?” He nodded and I saw him subtly flex, as if in admiration of himself. “So you’re okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “I mean, if it means I don’t have to diet or go to the gym, why not?” he laughed, and carried on getting ready for work. “You might need to pop out today to buy me some new clothes though,” he added.

I nodded and smiled, happy that inevitable, awkward conversation went as well as could I could realistically hope. I started to get set up for my day working from home, and brought Mark a donut as he was about to leave, kissing him on the cheek as I passed it over.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked carefully at the donut. “Did you do this Ben?” he asked, after a moment or two.

“What?” I asked. “Yes Mark, I brought you the donut. Are you okay?”

He shook his head. “No. Not the donut. Me. Did you make me fat?”

I swallowed. Hard. “What? Mark. How could I make you fat? I can’t eat for you,” I pointed out.

“No,” he agreed. “But I put on weight almost as soon as I met you. You’ve always given me half of your dinner, told me to get dessert, stopped me going to the gym.”

“Mark, you can’t seriously be accusing me of manipulating you into gaining weight,” I told him, feeling myself shake a little. "You have a big appetite." Was I trying to convince him, or myself?

“But did you?” he pressed.

I paused just a little too long and he sighed, burying his face in his hands. “It’s not like I forced you to eat anything!” I protested. “You enjoyed the food, you wanted it, you never cared about putting on weight, never enjoyed the gym. I just tried to give you permission to let yourself go a bit.”

“But you didn’t Ben!” he snapped. “You didn’t give me permission because never had a choice!”

“Mark, come on,” I reached towards him, but he knocked my hands away. “I’m sorry for being sneaky, but that’s all it was - a bit sneaky. I never lied, I never convinced you to do anything you didn’t want to, I just made the choice a bit easier.”

He opened the door. “I’m going to stay at my parents for a bit,” he said.

“Mark, no,” I pleaded.

“I just… I just need some time to think.” He moved through the door.

“Please Mark, I love you.”

He sighed. “I love you too,” he said. “It’s just a lot.”

The door closed. The day was a write-off. I spent the whole day cleaning and tidying, scrubbing floors and counters and remaking my bed. I thankfully didn’t have any meetings, and the only work I needed to do was busy-body work that no-one would notice was getting done badly. I fell back into old routines - didn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, Carole King, Richard Curtis.

Staying at his parents “for a bit” meant a couple of weeks, as it turned out. I was mid-Notting Hill when I heard the door open and I turned to see Mark walk in, an old band t-shirt riding up to reveal the bottom of his gut. I rushed over to him, but stopped before I reached him, unsure of what was about to happen. He closed the distance and pulled me into a hug. I melted into him, and we stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding each other.

“I’m sorry,” I said eventually.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I overreacted. I… freaked out.” He scratched his gut. “You were right. It could have happened in any relationship, I just…” He closed his eyes. “I’ve been fit for a really long time, you know, and I’ve never done a proper relationship, and I always felt like people just use me for sex and all of a sudden I find out that you’re a big part of why I’ve put on so much weight and it just felt like… Like you were changing me.”

I shook my head and hugged him again. “I’m so sorry,” I said into his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to change. You’re exactly what I want, any weight, I promise.”

He hugged me back. “I want to change for you,” he murmured into my hair. He pulled away and held my shoulders, smiling. “I spent a lot of time trying to figure stuff out and… you're right. It’s hot.” He slapped his gut. “I get it, I think. I like being big and I like eating and I like that you like it.” I must have looked skeptical because he carried on. “Okay, I’m not, like, thrilled with putting on quite so much, but I also don’t care enough to lose you over it, and I can see where you’re coming from.” I didn’t know what to say, so just kissed him, running my hands under his t-shirt and up his love handles. He pulled away. “I want you to get fat as well though,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“I think you should put on weight as well,” he said again. “To see what it’s like.”

“Mark, I… I thought you’d forgiven me. I said I was sorry.,” I said.

“I’m not saying it as some kind of punishment or whatever,” he said, and patted my own flat stomach. “I’m saying that I think you’ll like it. That I’ll like it.”

“I think you might be confused,” I told him. “I don’t want to gain weight,” I explained. “I just like fat guys. It’s a different thing.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I didn’t want to gain weight either, and it turns out I kind of like it.” He squeezed his gut for emphasis. “You already like all this stuff, and I just think you owe it to yourself to see whether you like all the aspects of it.”

“Really?” I asked. “You want this?”

Mark shrugged. “Why not? Maybe it’ll be hot, and if you don’t like the first twenty pounds, you can lose it all faster than I’ll be able to lose all this.” He slapped his gut and sent it shaking.

“I uh… okay,” I agreed. “Yeah, I’ll try it out.”

The changes to our classic routine were unsettling at first. No more subtly suggesting dessert or quietly giving extra portions, now Mark would quite happily take seconds and snack throughout the day. He also made sure he wasn’t alone though - everything he ate, he would make me match, to the point that most days I’d end the day cradling my too full stomach while he gently rubbed it for me. Being more open about my preferences meant that we could start introducing food into the bedroom as well - sex now meant ice cream and chocolate and whole-cakes, all eaten off each other’s bodies or while Mark was deep inside of me.

While Mark’s gains kept up a good pace, especially for a man his size, the weight hit my body like a freight train. Without the base of muscle that Mark had, my gains were much softer, and spread across my body as opposed to Mark’s firm core ball gut and fat covered muscles. I found myself loving it - I'd get distracted by the way my flesh would slide past itself, the gentle restriction of clothes just on the verge of being too tight, and the pillowy softness of my body. I would find myself in work-meetings slipping a finger between shirt buttons to stroke around my navel, and it became one of Mark’s favourite jokes to point out when I’d mindlessly pull my shirt up while at home so I could play with my underbelly.

"You not going to lose too much weight while I'm gone, big guy?" Mark asked, kissing me on the cheek as he hoisted his bag on his shoulder.

I swallowed the last of the custard slice I was eating. "You're only going for a week," I pointed out. "Besides, you've managed to put nearly a hundred pounds on me in less than a year, I don't think I'm likely to stop losing weight anytime soon."

"Oh, I see," Mark said laughing. "It's me who put all that weight on you is it? You didn't have anything to do with it?"

"I should be more worried about you!" I said, changing the subject. "Going with all those skinny twigs - they're hardly going to make sure you're eating right."

He gripped his gut with both hands and lifted it. "It's a stag do," he said simply. "My diet's going to consist of beer and kebabs. I don't think you have to worry."

I kissed him goodbye, our guts melding into one another, and he left to get his taxi. I made my mind up to give him something special to come back to - as much weight as I could conceivably gain in the week he was away. I was sure I could put on five pounds (we both did that easily in the week between last Christmas and New Years), but how much more could I do?

Me and Mark were both used to four enormous meals as standard by now, so I added multiple tubs of ice cream and gainer shakes each day on top, to really kickstart my growth. I spent the next week bloated, groggy and uncomfortable - it was one of the hottest things I've ever done.

By the time Mark was back, I'd managed to push eleven more pounds onto my body, bringing me up to a cool 267 pounds. He walked into me lying prone on the sofa, shirt off, fresh stretch marks covering my gut, melted ice cream dripping onto soft moobs. I struggled to sit up to greet him, burping through a smile.

"Uhh, hi," he said, not moving from the doorway. His gaze hovered somewhere over my head.

"How was Berlin?" I asked, finally managing to sit up with a soft "ooft".

"Yeah it was…" he trailed off. "You know, fun. Good to see the lads." Still by the doorway. Still no eye contact.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, the ice cream sitting less comfortably in my stomach by the second.

"Yeah, no, it was just…" He finally moved away from the doorway, pacing around the room, eyes looking at everything except my expanded form. "They kept on taking the piss out of me," he said eventually. "You know, for being so fat."

"Right…" I said slowly. "But you're… you're okay with that, right?" I stood up with some effort and moved towards him. He moved towards the kitchen, still not meeting my eyes. "You've said you find it hot?" I felt self-conscious now, and looked around for a t-shirt I could put on.

He sighed, and finally looked at me. "Maybe not everything has to be hot," he said simply. "Like, yeah, it's great for sex but… Christ Ben, I'm over 24 stone now! Look at me!" He gestured down to his body, swollen with fat in every direction. "Every fucking day was just me trailing behind everyone else, completely out of breath, putting up with fucking jokes every other minute about my double chin and moobs and rolls-"

"Okay, your mates are arseholes!" I said. "Does that matter? Your workmates make jokes like that all the time."

"It's not my mates!" His voice was growing louder. "They're right! We've- I've-" He sighed and rubbed his face, his double chin moulding under his fingers. "We've taken it too far." He looked at me in the eyes. "This," he gestured down at himself and looked guiltily at me, "isn't just 'being a big guy' anymore. It's really, properly fat."

We tried to avoid talking about it for a few days. Then talked about dieting, going to the gym, building muscle, what weight might be a good compromise. Every conversation turned into an argument. Every meal, every shopping list.

I'd gotten so used to over-eating that I'd sneak off in the middle of the night or when he was at work to gorge. The couple of times he caught me turning into raging arguments. The times I caught him doing the same weren't much better.

Three weeks later, he'd packed his bags and gone to his parents. Whereas in the past I'd have stopped eating, I'd now fundamentally rewired my brain. Comfort eating was now de rigueur and every day seemed to overshadow the last. My snacks would have left a grown man satisfied, my meals turned into feasts, ice cream filled the time between like it filled in gaps in my stomach.

I ballooned. My tits drooped, my stomach swelled, my thighs chafed. I was grateful my job was mainly work-from-home, since my old clothes became restrictive to the point of pain. Buying clothes became a matter of adding the biggest size available to my cart and hoping for the best, waiting for the day I had to move to big-and-tall shops. Whenever I did have to go into the office, button-ups strained, my belt dug in, ties became comedically short. I saw my coworkers talking to each other, jokingly at first, then with concern. How could they not? I took up twice the space that I had done not long before, my face was round and jowly and soft. HR sent an email asking if I'd like a stronger chair. Emails were sent round reminding people about the gym memberships that the company offered, ostensibly office-wide, but I knew who they were targeted at.

When I reached 325 pounds I realised I almost weighed as much as Mark had when he left. Would I celebrate, I wondered, once I passed that milestone? Eat a cake to myself? Would that even register at this point?

I heard the door open and close, and I twisted around as best as I could. My flexibility had reached a critical point - now every action came with resistance, as fat bunched against fat and stretched around the sheer bulk of me. I looked around desperately at the mess around me, the ice cream cartons, cake boxes, tubs of cake frosting eaten straight.

"Ben?" Mark asked. I stood up as quickly as I could, tried to pull down my t-shirt so it covered the rest of my gut, did my best to button my shorts. I felt his hands on my arms before I even had a chance to get a good look at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I looked up, finally. "You've lost weight," I said. It was true. His gut, his double chin, his tits, all were still there, big, but diminished.

He chuckled. "The lads at the site still call me a fat bastard," he said and shook his belly. It was true, I supposed - by anyone else's standards he was still obese. "You, erm, haven't," he added, quietly. "Lost weight, I mean."

I felt huge. Disgusting. "I can lose it," I promised, tears welling up in my eyes. "I just missed you so much and-"

"No," Mark said.

"No?" I asked.

"No," he repeated. "I don't need you to lose weight, I don't need…" He sighed. "I thought I needed to get fit again. Lose all the weight. I started going to the gym, dieting. Started seeing results. Got down to two-sixty."

I peered at him. "You're not…" I began.

"No, I'm about two-eighty now. Probably a bit more," he answered my unspoken question. "I realised being smaller wasn't making me happy. Once I stopped dieting, the weight piled back on." He ran a finger across his moustache and looked around nervously. "Then I realised the reason I wasn't happy was because I wasn't with you." I noticed for the first time that he was holding back tears.

I moved towards him and help him for a while. He gripped me tight, his strong arms sinking into my soft back.

A while later, we were sat at the table, a chinese takeaway in front of us - a small attempt at normality.

"So," Mark said, looking at me sideways and speaking slowly, as if to test the waters. "What are you weighing at these days?" he asked.

I sucked air through my teeth. I knew this was coming. I wasn't upset as such - by this point, our relationship was defined by fat. It was a shock though, him coming back having lost so much weight, me having put on so much. "Three-two-five," I said, as calmly as I could. "Well, a couple of weeks ago at least."

Mark whistled and reached over to slide a hand across my belly, as if in admiration. "God, did you ever imagine you'd be the bigger one in the relationship?" he asked. I felt my face go red, and I started to stammer a response. "I've got to be honest," he continued. "I'm pretty jealous."

I choked. "Jealous?" I managed to spit out. "Of being this big?"

He sighed wistfully. "I've always been a big guy, you know? And then when I started going out with you I got used to being the biggest guy in most situations. And I definitely never thought I'd be smaller than you."

I smirked. "Fancy changing that?"

He chuckled. "Just you wait," he said. "I'll be the bigger one again in no time."

I grinned and picked up a rib. "Good," I said. "No man of mine is going to be under three hundred. You'll have to hurry up and catch me though," I told him. "I'm going to be a moving target."

He smiled. "Sounds great." He spooned some food onto his plate. "See you at three hundred and fifty pounds?" he teased.

I grinned. "At least."

#gaining fiction #weight gain story #weight gain #gainer fiction #gainer story #on again off again #no one other than me will ever find it funny that he took him to an impressionist exhibition to impress a date and I'm at peace with that

428 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 4 months

Text

Works Alone

When trying to pull the team together, Bruce’s ideas are dismissed, because he works alone. He goes home to his kids to pout about it.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

Bruce isn’t pouting. He isn’t! He’s not even a little bit miffed, because he doesn’t want the Justice League to succeed anyway. He doesn’t trust them, hell, he’s not even a full time member, he’s only playing along to keep the others in check. So why would he care?

However, attempting to convince himself doesn’t mean it is working or not clear on his face. The second he steps into the Cave, Dick comments: “Someone is pouty. Did anything happen with your new friends, B?”

He sounds a little too jovial about the whole thing for Bruce’s taste, because despite what he’s telling himself, he is pouty.

“Ridiculous. Father would never stoop so low as to pout,” Damian sticks up for him.

Damian had been sparring with Dick when Bruce arrived, but is now taking a break to drink some water. Seeing the two of them work together makes Bruce both feel better and more prissy, so he just grunts.

“He’s totally pouty,” Jason crows, from where he’d been ruffling through Bruce’s equipment. He would gladly give Jason all the stuff he needs, but Jason insists on stealing it, even if he’s stealing it in plain sight, which is more closely to just taking it.

“Take it back,” Damian frowns.

“Nah,” Jason says. “You know how he gets when y’all don’t come by enough. I mean, you shoulda seen him when Dickface first moved out. Man’s a pouter, I dunno what to tell ya.”

“What’s B pouting about now?” Steph asks, falling into the conversation since she’s only just arrived to start getting ready for patrol tonight.

“We don’t know yet, he’s still denying he’s pouting,” Tim calls out, not having looked up from where he’s working on the Batcomputer all throughout. “Though it’s likely something with the League, since he just got back from giving back up.”

Heads turn his way and Dick concernedly frowns: “Are you okay? Did they do something?”

There is a dark, yet gleeful glimmer in Damian’s eyes as he asks: “Do we need to go out there and vanquish these super powered morons, father?”

“No,” Bruce sighs, still a little miffed, though his mood has definitely been improved by his kid’s banter, as well as their worry for him.

“Then what happened, old man?” Jason demands. “Stop that vague bullshit you always do.”

“Oehhh, Jason swore!” Steph immediately chimes in. “I’m telling Alfred.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Jason whips around to her, pointing his knife at her.

“Knock it off, I wanna hear why B is being pouty,” Tim interrupts them.

“Yes, cease this chatter,” Damian adds, a rare show of agreement with Tim. They’ve all been growing, Bruce thinks proudly.

“So what happened then?” Steph asks, rolling her eyes, though stopping her fight with Jason.

Jason luckily also lets it go for now, so Bruce can answer: “They aren’t working as a team. It’s just a group of skilled individuals now and it’s becoming a problem.”

“You’ve been observing that for a while, B. Why suddenly the long face about it?” Dick asks.

And now the embarrassing part, Bruce thinks as he admits: “John is trying to do something about it now. I offered my help, but he refused, stating that I don’t know how, since I work alone, while he has been in the army.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then, the whole group bursts out in laughter.

“What?” Jason wheezes, while Dick cackles: “He actually said that? Are you for real? Oh my god.”

“I’m going to loose my shit,” Steph snorts, Tim chuckling in the background.

Even Damian is looking amused, although also slightly judgmental. He disdainfully comments: “They are not very bright and must lack observational skills, father. Are you certain you wish to proceed in sponsoring them?”

“Yes,” Bruce sighs again. He’d already had that conversation with himself. Many times. “There is a lot of potential there too. Which is what makes them dangerous. However, out there is dangerous too. They can protect like an army can. Like we can’t.”

“Tt, we can take on extraterrestrial threats and some villains,” Damian huffs, obviously displeased. Out of all his siblings, he’s been the most vocally against the Justice League.

“The brat has a point,” Jason surprises him by backing him up. “I mean, between us here and those still on the streets or running late, you basically have your own little army right here. Just recruit Wonder Woman and I’m sure we’d have a chance.”

“You just wanna work with Wonder Woman, don’t you?” Dick says, sounding a little smug as he slides up behind Jason to make a kissy face at him.

Jason just pushes his face away as he blushes and exclaims: “Shaddup, Dickhead.”

“Yeah, shut up! That’s the most sensible thing he’s said all his life,” Steph hollers.

“Kids, kids, calm down. We’re not disbanding the Justice League and adopting Wonder Woman,” Bruce interrupts, wondering how his life ends up with him saying sentences that he never thought he would be saying.

“I never said nothin’ ‘bout adopting her,” Jason scowls.

“Cuz you want to kiss her!” Dick sing-songs.

“Isn’t she like a few thousand years old or something?” Tim asks.

“Also not marrying Wonder Woman. Any of you,” Bruce says. “Why don’t we all just stay away from Wonder Woman. And the rest of the Justice League, which will continue to exist and not fall apart because they struggle at teamwork. Maybe John’s idea will work. It’s too early to say.”

All of them are giving him a judgmental look now and Bruce struggles to not react to it. It’s always harder when he agrees with them.

“But Green Lantern’s plan is hinging on esprit de corpse,” Tim says. “And that will never work, because it’s a military mentality and while you’ve been working together, there is no real interdependence outside a few emergencies.”

“Yeah, what Timmy said,” Dick agrees, gesturing towards Tim.

“I loathe to admit it, father, but Drake has a point,” Damian nods and that truly shows that it is a hopeless mission for John.

“We’ll just have to see,” Bruce says, deciding to end the conversation there. “Now get ready for pre-patrol brief. We have a few open cases to assign. Cass and Harper will soon be reporting from their early rounds, so get suited up.”

There are a few groans around him, but his kids grant him the mercy of dropping it. They probably know as he does that this won’t be the last time they discuss it.

Indeed a few days later, Bruce comes walking into the Cave again, trying not to let the thunder cloud above his head show too much. However, he knows his kids notice, some sending him a raised brow or an inquiring look. Bruce is glad that he’s come far enough as a parent that not even Dick or Jason are put off by his bad mood.

Dick is also the one to tentatively ask: “Not a good training session with the Justice League?”

“John has us running drills,” Bruce grunts. “It’s showing us each other’s moves and how to play into each other, but…”

“It’s not turning you into a team?” Dick suggest.

“Yeah,” Bruce says, sighing.

“Esprit de corpse,” Tim sing-songs, walking by with a steaming mug of coffee that he went upstairs to refill, ready to start working on the case he’s in the middle of.

Bruce ignores Tim, knowing he’s right, and pulls the cowl off to card a hand through his hair. “We don’t need to run drills, but we need to do trust exercises, talk with each other, get to know each other better, be- be-”

He doesn’t know how he wants to end that sentence, but Cass does, materializing out of the darkness in her sweats, she says one word: “Family.”

“I thought you didn’t like the Justice League,” Duke asks. Luke is covering his day shift today since the last few days have been busy for Duke, but as a true Bat, he doesn’t really know what taking a break means, so he’s in the Cave training.

“Hn,” Bruce replies, thinking. “I mean, I do like them, I just-”

“He doesn’t trust ‘em,” Jason says. He wasn’t supposed to be at the Cave, but it’s clear why he’s there when Bruce looks his way in surprise. He’s holding a box of files, likely stuff he needs for his organization, Bruce wouldn’t know. They’re at a point where Jason doesn’t kill and Bruce doesn’t ask.

“What? Why?” Duke asks. “You fund them and go on missions with them. Even share intell and use them as backup, despite the fact that there are metas and aliens among them. Why do that if you don’t trust them?”

“’Cause he’s also paranoid,” Jason answers for him. “He’s monitoring ‘em.”

“But also befriending them,” Dick says, defending Bruce. “He just needs to vet them closely first, before he does that.”

“Right, ‘cause he’s paranoid,” Jason says.

Duke looks at Bruce, who sighs: “They’re not wrong. The Justice League has a lot of potential to do good and they’re showing they want to be that goodness. But they also have the potential of mass destruction. We need to be sure they won’t be a threat and that we have the right contingencies, before we let them in.”

“Like I said, paranoid,” Jason repeats.

“But trying,” Dick adds.

“And is stepping in to help them get better teamwork going to backfire?” Duke wonders. “Like are we scared we’re going to teach them how to destroy everything as a team? Is that it?”

“No,” Bruce answers, before the peanut gallery consisting of Dick and Jason can. “I offered help to John, he didn’t want it. I don’t think they’re willing to listen to my opinion on it, since I work alone, so have no expertise.”

Duke snorts loudly at that, then suddenly says: “Wait, you’re serious?”

Bruce grunts as conformation.

“Why?” Duke asks.

“Paranoid,” Jason says, rolling his eyes, before hoisting his box up again, before walking off.

Meanwhile, Bruce actually explains: “I haven’t mentioned you, like I said I would. It’s best if they don’t know we’re connected, nor that Gotham hosts more heroes. Connections like we have could be exploited by them and Superman can do a lot more damage should he so choose than Killer Croc or Bane.”

“But they’re good guys, right?”

“For now,” Dick answers morosely. “I’m not saying I agree with B’s paranoia, I mean, I was doing team ups before him and it worked out fine for me without the layers of paranoid he has. But a lot of things can go wrong, especially when working with people that powerful. I also maintained a semblance of mystique just to be safe.”

“But you can try to tell them this isn’t working, right? They must see that it’s not,” Duke says.

“From what I’ve seen both Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman are warriors like John, so they think the same about this. Superman and Flash are office workers, they’d think of horrid team-building days. While J’onn is used to working together with people who can read minds,” Bruce answers. “Out of all of them, only J’onn might listen.”

Cass nudges him and signs: ‘You are not saying something. There is hiding in your shoulders and a bit of guilt in your jaw.’

“What are you hiding, B,” Dick prods, a little bit of genuine judgment and worry coming through the tease.

“It’s a risk to tell them,” Bruce answers sulkily, knowing it’s a little silly, but unable to stop his brain from providing pop-ups of all the ways it could backfire.

“B,” Dick whines, throwing himself to hang over him. “You can at least try.”

“I will, I will,” Bruce says, placating yet also meaning it. He wants to do right by his kids and they want him to have friends, most of them encouraging him with the Justice League.

And, he does. Tentatively he suggest doing some trust exercises among the drills they’ve been running. As expected he gets weird looks and even a scoff from Wally and a frown from Clark. But he manages to play into John’s ideas brotherhood, which means the others are forced to give it a try.

It’s not perfect, of course it isn’t. They still have to deal with the fact that they never agreed on a strategists or a leader of sorts. They still have to build an organization, a system, a proper way of working as a unit.

However, they are getting somewhere. Some prodding here and there helps and the more it helps, the more others prod.

Though it’s not until years later, when Damian is nearly outgrowing the Robin mantle, that Bruce finally allows them to meet his kids. To let them in on the inner workings of Gotham vigilantism.

Then John will point at him and exclaim: “You son of a bitch, you lied to me! You let me struggle on my own to pull these idiots together.”

And at that point, Bruce will be comfortable enough to ignore everyone’s protests and smirk: “I offered you to help, didn’t I? Too bad I work alone.” Making his kids – though they’re adults at that point – laugh like the day they first heard.

A/N:

I think the League thinking Batman works alone is hilarious, especially if they establish later than the batfam

186 notes · View notes

maritotoy · 3 months

Text

MAUGA X Support/Medic Reader ((Part. 1))

NOTE: Believe it or not, I never realize how long I've written this one.

This narrative tracks Mauga's obsession with Y/N as it grows to the point where he is prepared to kill everyone who stands in his way. With this in mind, Mauga's commitment would gradually grow. He would start out softly and then this need on you would get stronger.

It all began when your talents were initially utilised for recruitment. You were a terrific help, willing to assist your teammates in whatever way they needed.

Your main issue was that you could never truly let them handle things on their own. As a result, it became increasingly difficult to care for yourself.

They promised you riches if you helped them fight back against their threat. There were only so many ways to profit from rival worlds, after all. You were aware that you were going into a whole new universe when you agreed, but you also felt that you had no choice but to accept them.

Ultimately, you didn't wish to pass away, did you?

It was stated to you when you first joined TALON Organization, that you should concentrate only on the battlefield. Up until you met Baptiste, an exceptional combat medic, it was great with you. Your shared enthusiasm for curing illness is what unites the two of you. It turned into a shared passion. As you try to acquire experience in several areas, like medical supplies, you both hope to discover some more useful abilities, like healing or even a unique kind of combat capability.

But you can hardly ever get to Baptiste, he's constantly at the top. Both a combat mercenary and medic. You're always looking for ways to sharpen your skills.

Even after meeting him again at your base and on missions, you are still determined to improve your ability to deal with any possible emergencies. Not until later do you find out what happens when a member of your unit gets injured.

Baptiste surged in, carrying an imposing stature and a solid, muscular frame. His voice sounded desperate, asking, "I'm sorry if I came to you! I know you are busy, but I need help with my friend, please, Y/N!" The urgency was so obvious that there wasn't much resistance. Even if he was a doctor himself, it must have seemed urgent enough.

Besides... You were in the right place to help.

You rushed over to his side and helped him stabilize his huge friend. "What happened, Bap? Are you hurt?" He didn't reply, but his eyes told you all you needed to know.

You fix your sight on his pal. He does not appear to be hurt or seriously damage. However, the man's body is completely soaked, which looks very suspicious to you. "Is he alright, Bap? I don't see anything wrong." He shook his head and gave a sigh.

"We were attacked. Mauga and I found the source of the enemy attack and got separated."

"How long has it been since then?"

"Four hours, maybe five."

"Do you have any idea of what may have caused the damage?"

"I'm not sure. However, I had already discovered him unconscious but unharmed on the ground. It should not take long for him to awaken.." You glance at the unconscious man again before you say, "Let me take a look at him." He nodded and stepped aside.

"Mauga could never be wounded by shots like that. Despite his size, he could easily absorb one hit thanks to his physique." He explains.

You crouch down and check on his comrade. He seems fine to you. There's nothing unusual about him, other than the fact that he's a bit too heavy.

You knew Mauga.

And with such.

You just don't know how to engage with him.

On a conversation? Yes. Your profession is your duty.

You don’t really get along with those who rely solely on themselves as an advantage, even though you respect their abilities.

The feeling is mutual. Every time someone gets hurt because of something beyond their control, you are there to help them.

Because that's your job as a medic.

You both have quite a difference in interests, though. You can't stand the fact that he’s so reckless, you can't understand why he doesn't think more carefully before he acts. As soon as he sees blood, it's always the most important thing.

Mauga stands tall, towering over his opponents with an impressive height of 7'5 ft tall. (My headcanon)

Mauga is a formidable opponent on the front lines thanks to his strong, muscular physique. His broad shoulders and thick neck gives off an air of strength and power, and his body is well-built, demonstrating his strength and capacity to deal severe damage to rivals.

Did I mention he has two hearts?

Unlike you, Mauga is a ruthless and cunning individual, driven by his own motivations. He never lets anyone interfere with his goals, whether or not they involve you. While he might act with reckless disregard sometimes, he is also able to calculate the best course of action.

Not anyone knows this. But you knew nontheless with Baptiste.

You may be underestimating him in some way, or you may have witnessed the genuine thing, up close and personal, but he always brags about his achievements without hesitation or shame. His fighting style turns wild and unpredictable when he fights. If Mauga doesn't want to win, he will take his time, before using ChaCha and Gunny, his chainguns, to grab the victory, and he won't give up until he achieves his objective.

He definitely is careless, isn't he?

"He's breathing just fine, Baptiste. I would say he is in perfect health, aside from the injuries, I can't detect any signs of any damage injuries either." You said as you stood up. Baptiste sighs relief. "I'll leave him to you doctor. Don't worry, I trust that you have everything under control." He says this to you while nodding in satisfaction.

This gesture of his is a way of gratitude towards the medic's work.

"I will be back later," he says as he leaves to make a round to prepare for battle.

While Baptiste was gone, you sat next to the downed mercenary soldier and begin to observe him. In the midst of his unconsciousness, he seems to be in a good state. There was no sign of discomfort or pain. His pulses are fast but steady, knowing that Mauga have two hearts, one that allowed him to replace his damaged, organic heart with a cybernetic one. That way, his heart will beat twice as fast. You can easily tell that Mauga is in his natural state.

Your eyes began to feel heavy after observing him for some time. You weren't sure if it's due to fatigue from watching him, or simply exhaustion from your duties as a medic.

Before you knew it, you fell asleep.

When you awoke, you find yourself staring back into the face of Maugaloa Malosi, whose lips formed into those flashing, same pasted smile as usual. “Ah, Doctor. How nice to see you again.”

You quickly wake up, sitting straight up on the chair. “M-Mauga!" You exclaimed, alarmed. "H-How is you- I mean are you feeling alright?”

He grinned at you. “I am feeling rather fine.” You let out a long, sigh of relief. However, you didn't anticipate that this would happen frequently. “I see..." You replied.

Silence takes over for a while. Mauga stared at you intensely before taking a step forward. “Your Y/N, correct? Baptiste little assistant. I've heard much about you, but never expect that I would get to get treated from you.”

You flinched slightly at his words 'assistant' and the word 'little', but you remained calm. “I'm glad that you feel better now. You should rest and recover. If you still need them..."

“I appreciate the concern,” he says as he reaches towards your shoulder. You instinctively raise your hands in preparation of blocking. This caught him off guard, causing him to pause in his movements, then booms laughing.

“My apologies, Teuila. I thought that you might have forgotten what I do here,” he said in that familiar, friendly tone.

“If I recall correctly, I haven't given you permission to touch me.” This comment caught him off guard as he chuckles deeply.

He stares at your hand for a while longer. You're beginning to become worried. After a brief silence, he reaches forward and lightly holds onto your wrist.

“That’s a very sensitive spot…” He whispers gently. Your heartbeat begins to accelerate. “And your pulse is fast. Is this normal?” he asks. “Yes,” you respond in a soft voice.

“Then why are you afraid? You know I'm not going to hurt you...” He grinned. His sharp teeth glinted menacingly in the dim light. "Surely you've already made a friend? You also gave him a lot of attention than you do with me. Or have you grown to dislike me?"

"...I... I beg your pardon-" your speech is interrupted by Baptiste with a tired expression.

"Hey... Sorry that I took so long. I went to gather supplies. Mission was a success." He sighed in relief as he approached you.

"Mauga, I'm glad your awake bud." Baptiste sighs in relief and smiles at Mauga. Mauga returned the gesture before looking back at you.

He still has that huge grin plastered across his features while his eyes darted towards yours. "You're crazy out there Mauga. Do you really think that you can defeat the enemies single handedly?" Baptiste says with a chuckle. “You know me Baptiste, I never do things without planning them out.” He grinned, revealing that row of dazzlingly white teeth. “I still don't understand how you've been knocked down so easily. It's hard to believe that you can be beaten like that.” Baptiste gives a half smirk, half frown.

You listen to their conversation, and you try to make sense of it. Mauga laughs at the situation, as if it's all so obvious. "C'mon, Baptiste, we have bigger problems than me right now. The mission is a success because we finally found the enemy camp. But it was a close call, and we needed your medical expertise to treat the wounded," Mauga explains to Baptiste while looking directly into his eyes with a sly smile. "I carried your massive ass in this camp with support of your weight alone. You ought to be pleased to have a subordinate with such skill." Baptiste smirks. He was referring to you. Mauga laughs at his friend's criticism, displaying his amusement at the circumstances.

"So yeah. It was pretty rough, but we managed to secure the objective! Isn't that great news?"

It's not really a surprise to you.

Mauga does tend to put himself in danger, especially when he's in an unfamiliar place.

This guy is completely reckless, which is why you can't believe that he managed to survive so many battles without falling apart or breaking down.

"Your a loose-canon, but I hope ended well..." you say calmly, hoping that you sound convincing enough.

"I can assure that I have the highest respect and admiration for your abilities as a medic. I would never doubt your skills, even if I hadn't personally experience how skilled you are in dealing with wounds." Mauga comments, he sounds sincere as ever.

Baptiste grins again. "That's a big ego of yours, my friend. You should consider giving a few compliments to the people who did more than you."

"I would love to, my friend, but there's nothing wrong with being modest about our accomplishments."

"Alright," Baptiste said, sounding annoyed.

--------

After several hours, days, months of treating your patients at base. You cannot help but wonder seeing Mauga quite often, whether that is purely because of duty or something else. Although it is difficult to tell what he's thinking, there are moments where you notice the way that he is constantly staring at you. Like he's trying to figure out something about you:

studying your appearance, facial expressions, mannerisms. Sometimes he gets lost in his thoughts, sometimes he appears to be lost in his own world, occasionally, you could catch him smirking knowingly, or even smiling to himself. These small gestures usually only occur during times when it's with you with him. Sometimes, the man is just too cheerful, or too energetic in general.

You could hardly handle the stress of handling all these patients in the infirmary on your own. You're starting to miss having Baptiste around to keep him occupied while you go through patients. You sighed loudly not until Mauga appears behind you

You found him with wounds on his chest and torso. You turn to look at him, "What happened?"

"Nothing serious..." He grins, showing his sharpened teeth.

"Just a minor injury, eh?" You raise an eyebrow at the mercenary, crossing your arms over your chest. Mauga simply shrugs as he sits on a table.

There was another period of silence between you two, and the atmosphere seemed to tense up considerably. This time, it's you who breaks the silence. "I'm sorry that you got injured. I don't know how I should react seeing someone else getting hurt so casually. You could have died out there. And that's not the worst thing that can happen," you said sarcastically and sternly.

He chuckles. "Oh really? Tell me more." He leans closer to your face, gazing deeply into your eyes. "Ah. So that's how it is."

You glare at him angrily, but he ignores you as you continue working. "Are you seriously going to mock me for worrying about you?"

"Not at all," he replied, with a hint of sarcasm. "But there is one thing that concerns me."

"What? You're going to insult me too, aren't you?" Mauga laughs while Y/N tends his injury.

The felt of your touch sends shivers throughout his entire body. He tries hard to suppress the sudden urge to grab her hand and hold on tightly. It's becoming harder to control these urges though. He shakes his head rapidly as he pulls away from you. He looks at you with narrowed eyes. "I'm not mocking you, you know?"

Your gaze flicks briefly to his. "Hm."

There was a short silence between you two, until you began to clean a cut on one of his legs. You noticed his gaze follow every movement of your fingers. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'd prefer that you didn't ask questions so frequently, Teuila."

"Teuila?" You face him. "You know, I never asked you of this... But why do you call me that?" He lets out a deep chuckle and replies. "Because you look like Teuila. It fits well, doesn't it?" He flashes you a warm smile before turning his head away again.

You shrugged of his answer, continuing your work without saying anything further, although you were extremely curious. "Teuila... What does that word mean?" There's a brief moment of silence in between the two of you once you finished cleaning up the blood staining his leg. A faint smile plays across his lips again. "I thought you were better than that."

"And you think that you're better than me?"

"Yeah," he replies smugly.

"Then... You've obviously underestimated me, don't you?" You give him a challenging smirk. He returns the smile with a smirk of his own, but he then turns serious again. His eyes narrow. "Let me enlighten you. That name means 'flower'. Do you understand what kind of flower it means?"

You gave him a blank stare. He continues to smirk, waiting for you to understand his meaning. Eventually, you sigh, putting your hands on your hips. "Do I look like I care to know?" You scoff, rolling your eyes lightly.

Mauga laughs. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter what you think of it..."

There was silence between you two for a few seconds, and you looked away with furrowed brows.

You finish patching up the mercenary, placing some bandages around him and securing them securely. "Now that I finished helping you, you're dismissed." You professionaly said after you made sure that everything was covered properly. Mauga laughs at this. "Really? Now? Just like that?" He asks mockingly.

"Yes Mauga, I don't have any other duties besides tending to your wounds. I've been doing that for quite some time now," you responded coldly.

Mauga raises an eyebrow at this. "You know, if you start beginning to care about those wounds, you might find yourself losing them. If you want me to leave your clinic quickly, then you'll have to earn my trust first, which requires some work."

You sigh heavily. Of course Mauga will insist on making things difficult for you. "I am no doctor Mauga, I cannot cure your injuries." You sarcasticly said.

"Oh I know that. But you're still willing to take the risk." He chuckled.

"You wouldn't had to waste precious time coming here in order to talk shit."

Mauga laughs at you again, grinning like a cat that ate the canary. "I wouldn't waste too much time coming here either, but I also wouldn't be able to enjoy it quite as much because you'll be gone by then," he says confidently. "Besides, you're not exactly known for your patience." You roll your eyes, turning back to the table in front of you.

"You know I've always wondered what it feels like to be your patient," Mauga mused. "To be the one receiving the attention of the most skilled medic in your battalion."

"You must be joking," you replied, you know what he meant, not wanting to think that you would ever become his patient.

"No. You know me... " He grins. You groaned. "Don't' make such assumptions, we don't know each other all that well yet."

"Yet..."

You glared at him as he laughed. "Whatever. It seems like there's no stopping you, is there? We haven't even officially met yet, and already you're acting as if you have a good relationship with me." You sighed exasperatedly, massaging the area of your forehead in irritation.

"Listen, Mauga. My job is simple, I care for my patients and treat them well. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh yeah? Well, maybe I'm different," he said cockily.

"How? Are you not afraid of dying?"

"No... No I'm not... I've done so much more reckless things than death." His expression suddenly shifted to an emotionless one. For a moment, it felt almost as if he wasn't looking at you anymore. Then he chuckled softly, giving you a playful wink. "But I'm no saint."

"It must be hard to admit being human." You shook your head slightly.

"Sometimes." His grin returned to his features.

You couldn't help but stare directly into his eyes for a little longer, taking in how dark they actually are.

Mauga shows a huge plastered face. His still wearing his dumb smile.

You blinked at him.

He blinked back.

You rolled your eyes. "Stop smiling so much." He continued to laugh, as you turned away from him again. Mauga stood up and stretched lazily, "I have something to attend to, I'll be seeing you later," Mauga teasingly said as he made his way towards the door. He opens it, but he glances back.

A small smirk forms on his lips.

You watch him disappear outside the door, closing it behind him with a click. Once the door closes you let out a heavy sigh, resting your back against the wall behind you. Your heart is racing a mile, a minute, both at the prospect of having finally been alone with Mauga again, and the strange feeling within you after you spent several hours alone with him.

This feeling...

It's definitely not normal.

End of part 1

Part 2- ???

#mauga #maugaloa malosi #mauga overwatch #overwatch mauga #overwatch #mauga x reader #ow mauga #mauga ho'okano #overwatch x reader

176 notes · View notes

tonkatsubowl · 17 days

Text

hsr men reacting you to being depressed after a 10-game loss streak

this happened to me the other day and i wanted to write something

(don't play league of legends, top diff)

dan heng: "...are you alright? i told you to get off the game and rest." dan heng sighed, folding his arms across his chest as he looked at you slumped against your chair. "if anything, you should've just asked me to carry you. here, move over and rest-i'll play on your account."

welt: (let's be honest, this man probably doesn't play games) "you've been on the computer for quite some time now, (y/n). it's time for you to stop." he places a hand on top of your monitor, encouraging you to turn off the computer for now for you to rest. "why don't you come with me to the cafe, take a break, and enjoy some coffee with me?"

blade: "i told you that game is probably lame. and it isn't because silver wolf plays it," he grumbles as he gets up from his own seat, walking towards you with arms folded across his chest. "why don't you just let silver wolf carry you on your account? ...why are you asking me to help you? ...you're saying because i'm in a lower rank than you and it's going to be a skill difference? what does that even mean?" (he sucks at games)

sampo: "i told you that you should've relied on little ol' me to help you with your matches! here, let me take over." as you get off of your seat, you let sampo sit in your chair as he puts on your headphones. he cracks his knuckles and stretches his arms, smirking, "i got this." (he lost all matches.)

luocha: "mm. i don't think playing this game even more will help with your mental health. i suggest you taking a break." he sits up and walks towards you with an already-prepared cup of tea...or juice. or coffee. whichever you really preferred. "here, take this. let's go on a small walk outside."

argenti: "ah, you've lost so many times. but loss is a beauty too, think of it," he moves over to you, grabbing your hands as he held them delicately, "you've learned how terrible your matches is, but you can improve from them. beautifully, even. ...what do you mean you can't improve getting terrible teammates? then i suppose we must make haste and make things more beautiful for them! ...you're saying i don't understand?" (he doesn't get it.)

jing yuan: "come now, (y/n). you've been on that game for hours, don't you think nap time is due?" he chuckles as he moves over to you, dragging a blanket with him as he playfully nudges your shoulder. "let's go and sleep with mimi. i believe you're tired."

dr ratio: "this is precisely what i predicted; 'rage queue' is what i've gathered from research upon gaming platforms. the more you do it, the worse your performance becomes." he sighs as he closes his book, looking towards you. "i suggest that you rest for today...and perhaps tomorrow for you to improve greatly on your performance. don't you agree?"

aventurine: "aah, you just keep losin'." aventurine moves over to you, resting his chin on top of your head. "why don't you take a break or have me give a try? i've always had good luck, you know. maybe i can get a shot at playing at it. ...you're saying i've never played this game before? why, you've ever heard of beginner's luck? trust me." (he lost all of them too)

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr dan heng #hsr dr ratio #hsr jing yuan #hsr aventurine #hsr argenti #hsr luocha #hsr sampo #hsr welt #hsr blade

101 notes · View notes

finalgirl00 · 11 months

Text

Coach's sister.

SUMMARY - The one time Coach Ben’s little sister stops by after practice.

2.7k words. Lottie Matthews x Fem! reader.

As you whipped recklessly into the parking lot of your rival school you were sure to turn a few heads from the students. You were currently driving your older brother’s Mustang from the 70s, but the way you treated it would have had him pulling the hair out of his head. Your car was currently in the shop for a blown-out motor after a routine attempt to race with your friends, so when you begged Ben to let you borrow his car he was reluctant to say yes. Somehow after a long conversation and you promising you would pick him up, his keys ended up in your hands as you grin with triumph walking out of the door this morning.

You were blasting No Doubts, Just a Girl, through the speakers of his car as you find parking near the soccer field. The car ended up crooked in two spots as you parked quickly. Letting the car run a bit, you looked out the car window looking for Ben, but to your disappointment, the team was still practicing and he was nowhere to be found. With a huff, you looked down at your clothes deciding on whether or not you should show up on the pitch. You were wearing your school's athletic tank top with a grizzly bear and a matching pair of green shorts that screamed your rival school’s name. With a sigh, you turn the car off and slowly got out of the car trying to make your movement minimal to avoid bringing attention to yourself. Slamming the door shut, you gathered all your confidence as you began to walk down to the field in an attempt to find your brother.

As you walked down the field you stuck out like a sore thumb. Gratefully the girls seemed too focused on their practice to notice you, but you observed their skills as you continued to walk not paying too much attention to your surroundings. The skills the girls were showing were definitely the same ones Ben has taught you. Smiling a little to yourself you suddenly bumped into someone. Unclear of who ran into who, you held onto the other girl for balance as she looked at you passive-aggressively.

“You are not supposed to be here! What are you doing here?!” she said loudly as her eyes were filled with confusion. As you let go of her you looked at her noticing that she had curly hair and glasses, but suddenly she raised her arms and blocked your view of the practice with a clipboard. She must be the team manager you thought to yourself.

“I'm just looking—” you started before she abruptly cut you off. “Well stop! I know you're just here to tell your team about what we have been practicing before the game on Friday! Isn't that like cheating? I would expect no less from the bears!” she continues to ramble passive-aggressively. “I'm sorry but who are you?” you asked her scoffing slightly at the assumptions she has made. “Misty Quigley, Im the team manager, and I am here to make sure players like you don't go on spying to report back to your team,” she said as she suddenly started waving the clipboard hitting you occasionally in attempts to shoo you away.

Little did you know your brother was back on the field and completely unaware of what was happening on the other side. As he called the team to the huddle to talk about what they can improve on before deciding whether or not to continue the practice he noticed that the team manager was missing. He looked around as he suddenly heard her voice yelling which also attracted the eyes of the Yellowjackets to look at the scene. Some of the girls gasped as they saw the unfamiliar girl on the field. They were angered at the thought of a player from the opposing team to be watching their practice, but Coach Ben sighed.

You grabbed onto Misty’s clipboard to cease her attacks and threw it to the side. “What are you doing?!” you yelled at her slightly before all of a sudden your brother's voice yelled “Misty, Stop! Both of you come here!” you looked at her begrudgingly as you started to walk across the pitch with all of the others girls eyes on you. ‘Good job at trying not to make a big scene’ you thought to yourself as Misty went to grab her clipboard and then followed a few steps behind you. As you walked past the huddle you heard quiet remarks about how you were ‘bad at soccer so you came to watch them to learn’ and ‘how you were jealous because you knew your team was going to lose on Friday’, but you kept your head down avoiding eye contact a little embarrassed about all the attention.

“Cut it out or you will all be running a mile after practice!” Ben yelled out upset at the comments they were making about you. You finally had the nerve to look up as your brother stood up for you. A wave of cockiness suddenly arose in you as you noticed you were immune to any of the punishments Ben would give them. You look at Ben before looking at the rest of the girls to observe their features.

Out of all the girls in front of you, the tall girl wearing the number five jersey caught your attention. She seemed to be just as angry at you as the rest, but you let your eyes linger on her a little longer. She was pretty and maybe if you met at a different time you might have started off on the right foot you thought to yourself before looking back at Ben as he continued to say “Guys this is my younger sister, y/n, she is borrowing my car and I will be taking her home. She’s not spying on us or anything so quit your judgment.” he said straight forward as he looked around at the rest of them. He left no room for questions as he said: “Got it?”.

The girls all looked back at you and then at Ben to observe similarities between each other. They had no clue of his younger sister's existence and were curious to know more about her as she was a similar age as the rest of the girls. However, there was a little guilt and sorriness they felt as they were quick to jump at y/n throat making false claims about her and her team. However, one girl, a ginger, did not hesitate to ask “Why would she go to a different school? She might as well go here since you work here?” as if she did not feel like she should have been held accountable for the team's actions from early.

“Maybe because I want to be a part of a school that wins constantly instead of once in a blue moon!” you stated snarkily as you did not forget their aggressiveness from earlier. Some girls were not okay with your comment as they were quick to defend their school and attack yours, but Ben cut it short before it got worse “Quit Fighting!’ he said then turning to you “You can join them on their run if you keep up with the attitude.” Number 5 snickered at the coach's statement, but as soon as he turned to her she stopped. “Lottie, you can join her,” he stated seriously. “Are you ser–” she started before looking at you and back towards her coach, but then he abruptly interrupted her “Two miles. After practice.” he said as if it was final.

You groaned as you looked at the girl mouthing the words ‘thanks a lot’, but she scoffed at your response before she says “Sorry coach”. He introduces you to the rest of the team as some of them began to open up to you. Jackie, Taissa, and Van seemed to take a particular liking to you as they liked the spark and fight you had in you. However, the tension between you and the taller girl was present as she ignored any conversation or contact with you and talked to her other teammate, Natalie, instead. However, conversations were cut short as your brother brought them to a huddle to finish one more scrimmage.

As they ran out to the field you handed over the keys to him in silence. You were still a little upset at him, but you did not want to argue anymore. He sent you to sit on the bench saying something along the lines that you were bothering him. As you sit on the bench on the sidelines you watched Lottie and Natalie off to the side of the pitch stealing glances at you as they talked. Lottie caught your eyes once before quickly turning around a little embarrassed that she caught your gaze. Coach Ben noticed their glances but didn’t say anything as he called the end of practice.

You tried slipping away to avoid the run, but Ben caught you and beckon you and Lottie over to the track. “Maybe this will teach you a lesson,” he said as you and Lottie looked at each other. You both groaned but nonetheless got ready to start running two miles. Ben counts the two of you down and you two start running at the same pace.

No words were spoken between the two, but after the second lap, you spoke away. ”We should just pace each other and make the lap longer, so he will have to wait longer.” you suggested. There was no response on her end, so you continued “I’m sorry we started off on the wrong foot, but we should at least work together to burden Ben…” you said with a small chuckle and she finally looked at you. Her dark eyes gazed into yours, but you looked away slightly blushing at her intense gaze. “That’s not a bad idea…” Lottie finally spoke up as you were nearing the end of the second lap. Smiling at her statement you noticed her pace slowed down quite a bit and you followed right after her. You looked over at Coach Ben and noticed that he was busy talking to Natalie.

“Look over at Ben… He’s trying to pry what you and Natalie were talking about… Maybe you should be a little worried about what you said to her about me.” you said poking fun at her a little bit. Now it was Lottie’s turn to blush as she watched the exchange between her friend and your brother. “Oh god, he’s probably going to bribe her! This is so embarrassing!” she said worried about what Natalie was going to spill as Natalie made eye contact with her and smirked. “What did you two talk about anyways that has you all worried? I hope nothing bad about me?” you asked her genuinely as you looked back at her searching for answers. “Oh no– no it's not like that at all!” she said stumbling over her words as she looked back at you. “It's just that–” she cut herself off as she looked back at the two and then back at you before continuing “I just thought that you were really gorgeous and I felt bad that I got us into this situation!” she rambled before saying “I totally understand if you want to avoid me, but I really meant no harm,” she admitted as she waited for a response, but when she was met with silence she began again “I'm so sorry for making things so awkward…” she said quietly. You were blushing at her statement as you sheepishly smile at her, “I think you're pretty too…” you said as you gazed at her losing all your confidence. She ceased running and reached out for your arm to stop you from going on. “Really? Because if so I would love to get to know you more maybe after the run. If Coach, I mean your brother…” she corrected herself before continuing “even lets us.” She looks back at him noticing Natalie and Ben were deep in conversation and didn’t notice that the two girls quit running. She was confident until she noticed that she would have to face her Coach’s judgment and his opinion on her ability to even take care of his little sister.

You noticed her spiraling before jumping in “We can just go now? We can jump the fence and run off into the forest. He’ll never catch us.” you suggested smirking as you looked at Lottie as she decided on whether or not she should be rebellious. “...But what if he thinks I’m a bad role model and doesn’t let me see you again?” Lottie genuinely questions as she doesn't want to be on Ben’s bad side, but she also doesn’t want to pass up the idea of spending time with you. “Oh trust me, he won't be able to stop us because I’m sure we’ll figure out a way to escape him…” you stated as you waited for her response. She finally finishes fighting with her morals. “Let’s go before they catch us!” She said grinning widely as she reached out for your hand and starts guiding you as the two of you sprint towards the fence. As she climbs up the fence, she reaches her hand down to you from the top to offer assistance, and as you take her hand your brother notices.

“Y/n, you better get back here right now! And Lottie you’re dead if you hurt her! You won't be able to avoid me!” Ben yelled out frustrated at the two girls. As they sat on top of the fence you looked back at Ben and Natalie and waved with a bright smile on your face while Lottie looked a little scared at Ben’s threats, but was very happy to have the opportunity to be with y/n. Natalie looked amused at the two girls' actions as she watched them jump off the fence a laughing mess and acknowledge her coach's stress. “Get the girl, Lots! Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Nat yelled snickering as Ben looked at her disapprovingly. “If she’s not home by twelve Matthews I swear you will regret your choices and I will make sure of it!” He yelled out in a final attempt to make Lottie rethink her decisions. However, Lottie had her mind set on the goal of impressing y/n as the two girls ran off into the forest and made it out the other end and ended up on the sidewalk. They were still holding hands and Lottie looked down at y/n with a gentle smile before saying “Your brother scares me, but I think your worth any loose threat he sends to me.” she says chuckling. “I know just the perfect place we should go.” before leading y/n away….

(Nat and Ben’s Convo.)

“You need to focus more on the scrimmage rather than gossiping with Lottie the whole time.” Coach Ben announces straightforwardly as Natalie collects scrimmage vests after being voted to against her will. “We definitely were gossiping,” She says sarcastically as she watched the two girls run “Lottie has a lot to say about your little sister…” she smirks now not making eye contact with her Coach. “I swear if she said anything bad you better tell me. I will make both of you sprint the field until you’re physically ill,” he said passive-aggressively as he grew protective over her little sister. “Oh trust me… she had nothing but bad things to say,” Nat says as she watched her coach grow more frustrated. “You better tell me now…” he announced as the two girls made eye contact with Natalie. “She just kept on going about how your sister had beautiful eyes, hair that frames her face perfectly, how If you weren’t here she would have swept her off her feet by now, how good she looked in that little tank top—” Nat trailed off with a large smirk. “That’s enough now! I can’t let Matthews think she can win my sister before she even talks to me. She’s a bad influence!” He said rambling before Nat interrupted “Looks like your too late anyways!” she said full-out laughing now as she watched them jump the fence.

part two maybe?

(anyways i hope you enjoyed my first fic! also definitely will not proofread, sorry.)

#lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews imagine #yellowjackets imagine #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #lottie matthews #wlw

583 notes · View notes

ikarasu · 5 months

Text

🍫White Chocolate🍫

Yandere Carlo/P x Reader

Warning: spoilers, yandere behavior, broken bones, and death

P/Carlo’s Perspective: 🍫Dark Chocolate🍫

Final Part: 🥀Tummy Ache🥀

Word Count: 1715

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

At a young age, Carlo and I knew that we were to marry. My parents were successful vehicle inventors who were very interested in Geppetto’s works. Geppetto wanted his son to marry the perfect spouse. So our parents took an opportunity and formed an arranged marriage. I knew that Carlo hated me, because of the arrangement. Feeling that now he has no chance of experiencing real love. I, on the other hand, fell in love at first sight. Everything that Carlo did felt so honest and pure. I watched Carlo grow up into a fine young man, but our relationship never improved. He would always avoid me at any chance given. Yet I still loved him despite his bitter nature towards me. Loving Carlo was like savoring dark chocolate. It’s so pure and rich but leaves nothing but a bitter aftertaste.

As the plague worsened my family had us move away from Krat. Yet my parents still caught the disease and eventually passed away six months after contracting it. I returned to Krat in hopes of finding Geppetto and Carlo. Only to return to the beginning of the puppet frenzy. I found Geppetto and was told of Carlo’s passing before he rushed me to take refuge at The Krat Hotel with a few other survivors.

I don’t know how long it has been since I’ve taken refuge here. But I’ve grown to enjoy the company of others. Usually, I help around with Polendina or chat with Sophia and Eugénie. I have not heard news from Geppetto recently, and I can’t help but worry. Leading me to think about Carlo and how I wasn’t there for his final moments. It hurts to think that I never got to say bye and tell him the truth about my feelings.

The loud creaking of the front entrance doors opening pulls me out of my thoughts. Like a bitter pill, I swallow up my feelings and head downstairs to greet whoever had just entered. As I head down the stairs I hear Sophia chatting. ‘It must be another survivor…’

“Sophia, who’s the newcomer-“

I stop as I look up at the face of the newcomer. Suddenly I feel sick to the stomach and I take a step back.

“I-it can’t be….”

There stands a confused familiar face. His unfamiliar blue eyes are glassy and dull, but his freckles are a constellation of stars I have memorized by heart.

“Oh, (name), I want you to meet P” Sophia says as she looks over at me with concern.

P raises his hand slowly as he stares at me. He almost touches my hand but I run. I headed to my room as fast as I could. My breath is erratic, my heart is pounding, and my mind is spinning. I feel like the world is collapsing on me and I fall to my knees and cry alone in my room.

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~Time Skip~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

*knock knock*

I refuse to move from my bed after the events from earlier today. The confusion and feeling of being lied to is conflicted inside me.

“(Name)… it’s me, Geppetto. May I come in?”

He sighs as he hears no response from me.

“I’m assuming you met my latest creation…..”

The door whips open revealing my angered expression.

“Is that what he is, Geppetto? Just another toy to you?! Some sick way to make up for your shortcomings as a father figure to Carlo?!”

My fists are trembling and the hot tears spill from my cheeks. Geppetto holds one of my fists gently before making me look at his face.

“Let me explain everything to you… there’s more to it…”

We sit in my room as Geppetto explains his whole plan to revive Carlo. I hesitate at his words, everything about it seems inhumane. Yet he tries to reassure me with promises of me getting my chance to love Carlo again.

“I can’t Geppetto… none of this sounds right. I miss Carlo as well, deeply, but this is too much for me.”

I guide him out of my room to let me process everything that has been said.

The next few days I try to go through my day as per usual. Trying to ignore those same blue glassy eyes following my form as I pass by. Despite their beautiful color, they’re too fake and doll-like for me to appreciate.

I go to the library to browse some books to read. On the top shelf, I notice one of my favorite books sitting on it. I try to reach for it as best as I can. My fingers barely graze the spine of the book before suddenly I feel a cold form pressing against my back. A larger hand easily grabs the book I was reaching for. Turning around slowly I refuse to meet his eyes. I quickly take the book and give him a quiet thank you before running off. If I had taken the time to look I would’ve noticed the way his eyes showed something new, longing.

I try to avoid him whenever he is in the hotel. Until one day I was feeling more somber than usual. Today would’ve been Carlo’s birthday. Sitting alone at the piano I play an old tune, one that I thought Carlo would’ve enjoyed if he and I got along. The tears drip from my face as I continue to play. Quietly the front doors of the hotel open and P walks in. P’s footsteps go unnoticed by me as I drown myself in my sorrows. He feels something deep down in his heart pulling him towards me. The feelings ran deep and made the ergo in his veins flow more. He felt like he had no control over these feelings. Remembering Geppetto’s words in his office after defeating the watchman at the city hall.

“(Name) and Carlo were made for each other. Treat them well, even if they’re a bit rough around the edges at the moment. They’ll come around sooner or later”

The song comes to an end and the room is now only filled with the sounds of my quiet sobs. I gasp as I feel a hand touch my shoulder. P stands there and looks at me with concern.

“Go away… You’re the last ‘thing’ I want to see at the moment” I say resentfully.

Instead of listening to me, P pulls me into a hug. I freeze and then I let myself melt. Carlo would’ve never hugged me so comfortably. The tears spill more and for once I look back at those blue eyes. He stares at me so lovingly and kindly. Maybe this is okay…maybe I can love again…

As P progressed on his journey our relationship bloomed. He was patient when I was stubborn and he was loving when I needed it. Loving P was like milk chocolate. The perfect balance of sweetness with no bitter aftertaste. He was perfect and I gave him all of my heart.

P came into the hotel and came to my room. One look at his face and I knew what he was thinking. We lay together one last time before he had to go off and finish off Simon. Our tears and hearts are shared one last time.

“I promise to come back… I won’t leave you again, (name)”

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~Time Skip~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

Screams are all I can hear ringing through the hotel. I hide in my room crying as I fear for my life. They’re all gone. Eugénie, Venigni, Antonia, Polendina, Pulcinella… they’re all gone. I hear footsteps approaching my room and I feel sick to my stomach. I pray for them to turn away and move on. It’s silent for a few moments before I hear the handle of the door turn. I hid in my wardrobe before the door could be opened. Holding my breath as I stare through the crack of my wardrobe. The room is empty and everything is silent. I let out my breath before suddenly brown eyes appeared in front of the crack. A scream is ripped out of my throat as I’m yanked out of the wardrobe.

“My love~ I promised you I would come back”

I tried to push at his form but his body wouldn’t budge an inch. Staring at familiar brown eyes that are now filled with bloodlust. Familiar constellations of freckles are nowhere to be found. Only splatters of blood and oil speckle his face.

“Let me go! You monster!” I scream as I continue to thrash in his iron-like hold.

“Now, now, that’s not very nice of you love~” he says in a sugary tone

I continue to thrash as tears fall from my eyes. Praying to any gods that all of this is just some nightmare. Suddenly he pulls me by the hair to force me to look at him. His tone taking a dangerous turn.

“Father promised me that we were made for each other. So start acting like it, love.”

I tremble in his hold submissively. He smiles and releases my hair before leaning closer to my face.

“That’s a good spouse~”

Before he could lean any closer I grabbed the vase behind him and smashed it on his head. He staggers and I make a run for it. Skipping over steps as I make a dash for the exit. I manage to run out the doors into the rainy entrance before I’m tackled down. Grabbing onto my leg he gives me a dangerous look. A sickening crack and a scream were all that could be heard. I cry as the pain shoots up my leg.

“See? That’s what happens when you’re not a good spouse. I have to clip your wings” his tone has returned to that sickening sweet voice.

He pulls out a ring and looks at me. I try to crawl away but he pulls me back cradling me. I cry as he slips on the ring and pulls me into a possessive kiss.

“That’s right, love! Cry! It’s a joyous moment for both of us. Now we can be together forever just as we were meant to be”

This ‘love’ is like white chocolate. Its overly sweet taste is there to cover up the fact it isn’t chocolate. Only this time it’s all that you have left.

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

Notes: I will edit this eventually rippppp

#lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #pinocchio #p #lies of p pinocchio x reader #pinocchio x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #p x reader #lies of p fanfic #gender neutral reader #gender neutral fanfic #lies of p carlo x reader #yandere carlo #lies of p carlo

215 notes · View notes