#I just like the idea of surprising depth!!! and the 'oh I never realized that about you' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dira333 · 4 months

Text

When I felt like I was an old cardigan - Kenma x Reader

thanks @missalienqueen for the character choice

Your head’s pounding, the sliver of sunlight peaking through the blinds too bright for your eyes. You press them closed again, sink further into the bed.

What happened last night? What day is today? Where are you anyway?

You’ve always been a deep sleeper. The kind that forgets everything the minute your eyes close.

So you’re not that surprised to find yourselves out of your depth at first.

But you quickly realize that this isn’t your bed. Your bedding is not that expensive and your mattress is not that soft.

Did you spend the night at a hotel?

You curl further into the pillows, your memories still a little foggy but at least past you has shown some taste in finding a place to sleep.

“Good morning.” The voice is soft and gentle and you need a second to realize that it’s not in your head.

You turn your head. There’s a door not far from you, a man leaning against the frame.

You swallow thickly. Hotel rooms normally don’t come with handsome strangers.

Wait, you were on a tinder date last night. Could it be-?

“I usually don’t sleep with someone on the first date.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“I know.” He says, dark hair falling into his eyes. Even from this distance you can tell that they are big and bright, cat-like and captivating. “You told me that last night, over and over.”

“And we still did-?” You can’t bring yourself to say it.

His eyes widen at your question. “No, no, nothing like that. Don’t you remember? You didn’t seem that drunk.”

You groan and rub your temples. “I have early morning dementia. I’ll need a cup of coffee to get my memories back.”

He chuckles softly, the sound rich and warm. It sends shivers down your spine.

“Follow me then.”

You follow him, the floor cool beneath your bare feet. You’re wearing an oversized shirt that’s definitely not yours over what appears to be your underwear. You wonder where the rest of your clothes ended up and whose shirt it might be. It can’t be his, he’s not that much taller or broader than you but the shirt hangs off you like a dress, generously covering your bare legs.

“What’s your name again?” You ask when he leads you into the kitchen. You’re normally pretty good with names and faces, but he’s not in any of your college classes, as far as you’re aware. And he’s got recognizable features, pretty eyes, and an interesting hair color, his long dark hair bleached at the ends, held up in the back in a messy bun that looks effortlessly pretty. You never get your hair to look like that.

“Kenma. Kenma Kozume. I know you from College.”

You blink. Could you have really missed him? With looks like that?

“I’m not in any of your classes.” He points out, his voice now quieter, his eyes moving across the kitchen as if looking for something to hold on to. “I just noticed you on campus, that’s all.”

“Oh.” You blink again. “That’s…” Your voice drowns in the noise of the coffee maker. Kenma seems uncomfortable with it too, flinching when the whirring gets a little too loud.

Soon the distinct aroma of fresh coffee fills the room, waking your brain up a little more. Kenma puts the first cup in front of you, smiles apologetically, and restarts the machine.

You take tiny sips and close your eyes as your brain boots up like an outdated computer.

You remember getting ready for your date, phone set up to film you as you twirl in your new red dress.

“What do you think?” You ask and your best friend gives you a double thumbs up.

“You look so cute! He’s going to be head over heels for you!”

“I hope so. It’s my first time dating over an app, I have no idea how this works!”

“I hate that I can’t be there to stalk you. I’d sit behind a plant and spy on you and make sure he treats you well.”

“I know, I hate it too. But I can’t wait for you to come back from Paris to start dating. Are you still on with that Tendou Guy for tomorrow night?”

“He hasn’t ghosted me yet, so I’m hopeful. He sent a few memes over and he’s either had help or he’s the best kind of funny.”

“Aww, I hope it’s the last. Well, I have to go in a few minutes, so I’ll log off. I’ll send you updates through the night, okay?”

“Okay, have fun!”

…

“Have you decided yet?” The waitress is not much older than you. You wonder if you’d feel better or worse if she were older. She’s giving you a sympathetic smile and you know what she’s thinking. After all, you’ve been sitting at this table for two for over thirty minutes, clearly waiting on a date that’s not going to come.

“I… I’ll have a glass of wine.” You start, your voice a little shaky. “What entree would you suggest?”

There’s a business meeting on a table to your right and an older couple having dinner to your left. You’ve never felt so alone like you’re doing right now and even though you know it’s not your fault and that alcohol isn’t a solution for a problem like this, you can’t deny that the first glass makes you feel a little better.

The second glass makes you feel a little warmer too, something you welcome after wearing a dress that looks incredible on you but is nowhere near warm enough for a rainy night in early spring.

By the time the waitress hands you the dessert card you’re ready to order your third glass of wine. But just as you open your mouth, the chair that had been vacant ever since you came in, is pulled back.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” The man is pretty, tailored suit and bright, cat-like eyes, dark hair pulled back into a bun. “My meeting ran late.”

“I-what?” You eye him warily. He’s gorgeous, there’s no denying it, a 10 out of 10 whereas your date had been a solid six or maybe seven, at least that’s what you could tell from his pictures alone.

“You can leave the menu with me.” He turns to the waitress with a smile, taking the menu from her before taking a seat.

“I’m sorry.” He leans forward, whispering over the little candle burning in the middle of the table. “I noticed that you were eating alone and you seemed a little lost. I hope I’m not intruding, this isn’t… I normally don’t do stuff like this, but I’ve seen you around College before, so I thought… I’m Kenma, by the way. Kenma Kozume.”

“Oh…” Your voice comes out a little too loud and he blushes, lowers his head in a way that tells you more about him than his previous words had.

“What were you doing here? At the restaurant, I mean, when you saw me?”

“I was part of that business meeting. It went on for way too long but I couldn’t just get up and leave, I’m sorry.”

“Ah, sure. I mean, your boss would probably fire you, if you did. But he picked a nice restaurant for a meeting. The food here is good.”

“It is.” He smiles, just a slight quirk of his lips, but your heart responds as if he’d just confesse his love for you. He really is unfairly pretty.”

The coffee machine falls quiet again and you blink, refocus on the moment again.

“That was really nice of you.” You say, “To keep me company like that.”

“It was reckless, more likely. You were nice enough not to chase me away.”

“No, I had a good feeling about you.” You smile up at him, still standing next to the coffee machine. He seems so much easier to fluster now, at daybreak, than he was last night. Or maybe you’re just noticing it now that you have a steady gaze and a clear mind.

“Who knows how much more wine I would have had without you.”

“You don’t handle your liquor well.” He points out, blushing as if realizing belatedly that that was rude.

Shame burns through you as you remember stumbling out of the restaurant as if your body had only registered all the alcohol the moment you’d stood up - late and all at once.

You must have looked a mess, and truthfully, you’d been one.

You hadn’t even been able to remember your address, hanging off Kenma like a dead weight on the way to his car.

“I still owe you,” you remember, guilt coiling in your stomach. He’d paid for everything.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I can pay for my food. I mean, you let me sleep here too and the clothes-” You pick at the collar, a sudden realization flashing through you. “Your boyfriend will be horrified I slept in his clothes.”

“My boyfr-” Kenma stares at you, wide eyed, face paler than before. “What are you talking about?”

It’s a miracle he understands what you’re trying to say from the way you’re rambling now. You’ve lost sight of the point you were trying to make a while ago.

“I…” He’s glaring at the coffee machine now as if it had murdered his family or caused some other tragedy. “I’m not gay. I don’t have a boyfriend. Truth is I’ve noticed you. At College, like I said. I’m not that good at making friends but you seemed kind and interesting and… well, I didn't know how to approach you until I saw you at the restaurant. I couldn’t leave you there looking all pathetic.”

You snort. His eyes fly over, the sight of them - on you - making you breathless again. He really is unfairly pretty.

“I don’t mind you making an ass of yourself. I’m as socially awkward as they come. I just…”

“Do you wanna get coffee together?” You ask. You know you’re getting ahead of yourself, but he’s cute and if you’re hangover brain isn’t reading everything wrong, he’s not against being friends with you.

Kenma blinks, holds up the coffee he made himself. It’s a question and an answer in itself.

You laugh.

“I mean a planned thing. Where I can dress up before and make sure I look presentable instead of looking like I’m trying to cosplay a Scarecrow.”

“You mean a date?” He asks, a faint blush on his cheeks.

Warmth bubbles in your chest. You lean your head to the side. “If you want it to be a date, it can be a date.”

He smiles, the motion lighting up his face.

Your stomach flips a little at the sight and you wonder, really, just how you managed to turn a night around like that.

“Would it be terribly forward of me to ask you out right now?” Kenma asks. “I kinda like the Scarecrow Cosplay. Just don’t tell my best friend, I stole that shirt from him.”

…

Somewhere in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes loudly.

“Better take some Zinc,” he mutters to himself. “Don’t want to get sick.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Kenma x reader #Kenma Kozume #Kenma fluff #Haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu fluff #Haikyuu

244 notes · View notes

sp00kygoddessxx · 3 months

Text

🔥Yearning🔥

Dean Winchester X Reader Word Count: 669

The bunker was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of machinery and the distant rustle of papers. You sat at the table, engrossed in research, your brow furrowed in concentration as you pored over ancient texts and lore.

Dean Winchester leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a mixture of admiration and longing. His eyes traced the curve of your silhouette, lingering on the gentle slope of your shoulder and the way your hair fell in soft waves around your face.

"Hey, Y/N," he called out, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

You looked up from your research, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Hey, Dean. What's up?"

Dean sauntered into the room, his movements fluid and confident. He leaned against the table, his gaze locking with yours. "I was thinking... maybe we could take a break from all this research. Have a little alone time, just you and me."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the suggestion. "Alone time? Dean, we're in the middle of a case. We can't just drop everything."

Dean's expression faltered, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes. "I know, I know. It's just... I miss you, Y/N. We've been so caught up in hunting lately, I feel like we never get a chance to just... be, you know."

You softened at the sincerity in his voice, realizing just how much he needed this moment of connection. Setting aside your research, you reached out and took his hand in yours.

"I'm sorry, Dean." you said softly.

Dean's expression brightened, and he squeezed your hand affectionately. "It's okay, Y/N. I get it. We've got work to do."

But you could see the disappointment lingering in his eyes, a shadow of longing that tugged at your heartstrings. You couldn't bear to see him like this, yearning for something that seemed just out of reach.

An idea sparked in your mind, a sudden realization of what Dean truly wanted. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you rose from your seat and took a step closer to him.

"Actually, Dean, I think I might need a break from all this research too," you said, your voice low and sultry.

Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze locking with yours. "Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?"

You closed the distance between you, standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Well, how about we take that alone time you were talking about? I think I could use a little... distraction."

A slow grin spread across Dean's lips, his eyes darkening with desire. "I like the sound of that, sweetheart."

With a swift movement, Dean swept you into his arms, his lips crashing down on yours in a fierce, passionate kiss. The world melted away as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment, the taste of him intoxicating and addictive.

As the kiss deepened, the hunger between you ignited, a primal need that burned with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. Dean's hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both.

With a sense of urgency, you stumbled backward, your lips still locked in a desperate embrace. Dean pressed you against the nearest wall, his body flush against yours as he devoured you with an insatiable hunger.

Every touch, every kiss sent sparks flying between you, a symphony of desire that crescendoed in a dizzying whirlwind of passion. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of you, lost in a haze of pleasure and longing.

When you finally came up for air, panting and flushed with desire, Dean's eyes met yours, a fierce intensity burning in their depths. "God, I've missed this, Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with need.

You smiled, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. "Me too. Now fuck me winchester."

#dean winchester imagines #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn #spn imagine #x reader #imagines #jensen ackles

113 notes · View notes

luveline · 11 months

Note

For the zombie Steve au would you ever consider writing a blurb from before the college when Steve realizes he likes reader?

for you, my love!! steve zombie au —steve realises he likes you romantically, fem!reader

You're singing under your breath. Steve has it on record that he thinks you're a bad singer, but you don't sound half bad. Low, dulcet, you're singing an old song everybody knows.

"Somewhere, beyond the sea, she's there waiting for me." You don't bother with the next line, interested more in the sock you're attempting to darn, the needle in your hand clumsy but well-meant. "Oh, ouch."

"Prick yourself?"

"I'm sorry?" you joke, laughing without answering his question. "I don't think that's any of your business, Harrington."

He grins at your saccharine, bubbly voice, enthused with laughter and unhurried. For once, you're not scared or anxious. The simple task of a repetitive action has distracted you from the reality of the world, and you're still being nice to him regardless. Steve's starting to think that, despite his bad moods and ill temper, you might like him. Or, starting to know it with surety.

He figured when your shyness getting changed didn't ever quite abate, when you started snuggling into his waist at night, when one day you began complimenting him for things beyond survival skills —your hair is such a nice brown, Stevie— when you started calling him fucking Stevie, that you must harbour sweet feelings for him. He figured, and yet he had no idea how to feel about it.

Steve started to confuse his feelings for yours, and vice versa. Wondering if maybe he was being nicer to you than he needed to be because he knew that was what you wanted. But he's sitting here now, cross-legged beside you on a double bed with no sheets in an abandoned house that's completely sealed from the inside out, no survival instincts, no ulterior motives, and he knows he likes you. That he might start to love you, if he has the time.

He thinks about kissing you.

"Do you need a bandaid?" he asks genuinely.

"For this?" you ask, showing him your finger and the pinprick bead of blood that's blossomed there. You lick it clean. "No, thank you."

"Alright. Want me to finish your sock?"

"No, that's okay." You give him a suspicious look. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why would I want you to finish my sock?" you ask.

"Uh, 'cos you just hurt yourself? I'm trying to be nice."

"Ooh, it suits you," you say, rolling your eyes.

He reaches over to pinch your side. You jump, startled by his touch and surprised by his wanting to touch you, he can see it on your face. He really should be kinder to you. You don't do anything wrong, you're not mean, you're not even a liability or anything so strict. You're just a girl —you're more than a girl. You're the best friend he has right now, and you look out for him in more than necessities.

"Who do you think you are?" he asks, giving you another jab.

You laugh and squirm away from him. "I think I'm someone with a needle in their hand, ready to stab you," you say.

"Really, you'd stab me? You're heartless. And here I thought you liked me."

"I do like you," you say, tucking the needle you'd been waving at him behind a few threads of floss in the bobbin.

"I like you too," he says. As soon as he says it, he knows it's true. You may not understand the depth of his words, but Steve does, and he can't shake the feeling that you need a reward. For being so likeable. For liking him first. "Give me your sock, I can darn better than you can."

"You've had more practice," you explain away, though you do pass him your sock.

"Are you going to finish the song?" he asks.

You glare. "Thought I sounded like a dying cat?"

"You'll never let that go, will you?"

"No, not likely."

You laugh again, and this time Steve joins in. He retrieves the needle and sets about fixing the mistakes you'd made, hiding a smile as you lay down by his thigh, your hand curled up by his foot, and start to sing. "You have to join in," you say ugrnelty between lines.

Steve joins in. Not worried about sounding good, not worried about anything, the two of you making up the words you forgot, out of tune but far from out of time.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

368 notes · View notes

forthechubbies · 2 months

Text

Love Thy Husband

Kingpin's Son!San x Innocent yet spicy! Chubby! Wife

You arrived adorned in luxurious fabric bought with their bloody wealth. You are not just a gift, but a treasure...a plaything acquired for the pleasure of the rightful heir to the Choi dynasty.

Choi San.

⚠️ Language, forced marriage, San is a good boy with bad habits, Yn conceals her face with a veil....and San is feral for your modest dressing style. No peep show for San 🙃⚠️

The purpose of a wedding photograph is to immortalize the beauty of that specific moment. Yet, when you stumble upon your own image, it triggers memories of your past yet your in laws so proudly display pictures all over their home. She was abducted by the man she now calls father to settle a overdue debt owed by her birth father.

You shed a tear, remembering your grim past.

As their son finally arrived at the mansion, he discovered his hidden surprise - a gift waiting for him. Despite the mysterious ivory veil that concealed her face, he agreed to accept her without hesitation. Little did he know, the veil was a humble plea from your father, who wished to shield his princess from the dark and dangerous world of the mafia.

The day unfolded before your eyes, obscured by the delicate ivory lace that draped over your face. Gripping the bouquet of baby's breath tightly, your heart pounded as the groom tenderly lifted the veil, allowing it to hover just above your trembling lips.

San's name escaped his lips in a hushed tone, barely audible against the backdrop of your rouge painted lips. Instead of forcefully pulling you towards him, he leaned in, delicately pressing his lips against yours. In the midst of this tender moment, he unintentionally crushed the bouquet.

The kiss, though seemingly pleasant, bore a resemblance to the innocence of toddlers exchanging affectionate pecks. He delicately pressed his lips against your flushed ones, refraining from any further advances. Despite his family now viewing you as his possession, San even restrained himself from touching you.

From that moment on, the vibrant world outside became a distant memory, The majority of your existence now revolves around the presence of your husband, consuming your every waking moment.. Who frankly you couldn't wrap your head around! One moment he’s stern and hostile the next, he’s a sweetheart gentlemen.

Speaking up the devil, There he is, Your phone icon alarmed you of husband’s incoming call. You rolled your eyes before answering. “Hello, San-"

"Omo..you sound like your about to die or worse." San complained under his breath. " You realize I'm your husband and not the grim reaper, yeah?" You could hear his blood simmering.

"Oh, you really had me fooled," you sarcastically remarked. Suddenly, you gasped, gripping your phone tightly, only to berate yourself for your own foolishness right away.

San’s brow involuntarily twitched, disturbed by the sass that escaped your cheeky lips. "What was that?... My dearest," he uttered with a tone that never ceases to send chills down your spine.

You carefully approached him, using his nickname in a soothing tone, "San..nie?" hoping to ease his anger. "My dear husband,” You’re cheeks reddening in embarrassment for actually fearing your husband’s wrath…some would say it should the other way around.

The phone went quiet briefly, only for your man to let out a chuckle that stirs up your fury, playing with you effortlessly. "Impressive, Sannie?.." He arches his eyebrows, making you squeal as he exhales his rugged accent over the line. "Sweetheart, I had no idea you could be this adorable." He taunts you in your mother language.

You are completely oblivious to the depths of your husband's affection for you. His love for you knows no bounds and shines brightly in every aspect of your life.

Especially your body....of what you allow him to see.

You feel safer when concealed from the sun, the man's wild gaze fixated on your delicate ankles and soft hands, pretending to be strong against his threats. You resist him so feebly, he longs to tear off your veil, granting you the illusion of courage to sass him, walk away mid-conversation, and disregard his presence as if he's not a menacing figure linked to the Atz, with his father just a phone call away from silencing your weak father permanently.

"I adore you, Mrs. Choi!!!" Wooyoung's voice echoed through the air, a mix of excitement and mischief. He sprinted towards San, seeking refuge behind him. "That asshole busted my lip," he growled, feeling the sting of his bloody lower lip. But despite the pain, he couldn't help but flash a mischievous smile at his friend, casually draping his arm over his shoulder. "So, how's the lovely wife doing?"

San sound shocked. “ How did you know I was-“

Wooyoung simply grins and nods. "You're adorable when you talk to her," he says with a mischievous smile, teasing his embarrassed friend.

The next thing you know you hear Wooyoung wince in pain, you assumed San hit him like usual followed by "Arghhh!!" Wooyoung biting him as a response.

"Don't fucking bite me, ya little bastard!" San's accent made you flinch, your Korean is far from perfect, and most of the time his words go unnoticed or you simply stare at his lips out of sheer cluelessness. But hey, it's not your fault. You were forcefully taken away from your family and thrown into this marriage with just weeks later.

"Ya! Who are you cursing at, cunt!?!” Wooyoung yelled in response, only to be met with a menacing voice hurling threats at them..

San's eyes gleamed with mischief as he glanced at the towering goon. "Hey, Woo, is this your buddy?" he asked, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Sorry, Honey, gotta go," he said, his voice dripping with allure as he abruptly ended the call. The unmistakable sound of San ruthlessly overpowering the goon echoed in the background.

Overwhelmed by the harsh truth, you found yourself standing in complete silence, consumed by the weight of this new reality.

#choi san x chubby reader #choi san #choi san x reader #choi san scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez series #choi san series #choi san fanfic #ateez ot8

108 notes · View notes

vash-yuu · 8 months

Text

— touch grass, bitch —

[[ Warning: swearing, lyney almost getting his ass beaten, might be ooc, nothin' else just fluff and crack ]]

Thank you @ivoryghostyy for proofreading :]]

"After being away from the sunlight for so long, even the terrifying depths of the sea begin to feel like home." he says; randomly, from beside you. He was finishing up his paperwork for the day. After all, being the duke of Meropide had its pros and cons.

One of said pros being your title as a duke, granting you access to a copious amount of power. Not to mention your wealth—you were literally filthy fucking rich.

And the cons? Well, for one, you don't touch grass. Ain't any better than those Akademiya folk, but hey, at least you're hot.

Moving on to the current situation,

You were completely done with your significant other's bullshit.

That being said, you take matters into your own hands, dragging his ass up to the main city of Fontaine in hopes of introducing him to some of your friends. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

Wrong.

When you first proposed the idea, he immediately shut it down. Apparently, he had a lot of work to do and couldn't be bothered to go back there. So you decide to go with plan B.

"for fuck's sake, LyNEY. PLEASE.HELP. ME."

…and that plan B was to get your friend, Lyney, to take pictures with you in hopes of getting your loving, always bruised up boyfriend, Wriothesley, to touch grass.

Lyney sighs deeply, knowing of your idiotic tendencies, and deciding to step up so you'd stop making a fool of yourself. You practically begging on your knees-

After your lil' photoshoot with Lyney (bless his soul), you had one of the guards send it off to Wriothesley under the guise of "important business" from Neuvillette.

Needless to say, Wriothesley was furious. (Who dares to mess with the alpha's mate!?) Why were you hugging him so intimately? Why did your smile look different from the ones you sent his way? He—quite childishly, might i add—stomped all the way from his office to the Fountain of Lucine. There you sat, laughing with Lyney, discussing the possible stages of grief your boyfriend might have just gone through.

In all his glory, the duke of Meropide, among his other titles, was making his way to you; looking like he was about to beat the ever living fuck out of the magician.

..Oh shit, he almost did.

Before it escalated, you quickly explained the gist of the situation. No, none of it was real. Yes, you only did it to get his fine ass out of the confines of his office. Simply, he countered:

"You could have just asked, y'know?"

This bitch-

Ahem. It seems that he's already forgotten the fact that you did ask; failing miserably in the process. How long ago was it? hm, oh yes, just a few moments before you decided to ask Lyney, of all people, for help.

Speaking of the magician, he's already taken the chance to escape. I mean, considering how his friend's idiotic prank almost caused him a horrible death, why wouldn't he?

With no other option than to stay with you, Wriothesley let his jealousy subside. He found his place beside you, watching the setting sun from atop the hill you found yourselves on; a picnic, if you will.

After a long moment of silence, he spoke.

"..Thanks." You turn to look at him.

"Y'know, for gettin' me out of that place. I never realized how homesick I actually was after gettin' used to the dark 'n gloomy walls of Meropide.."

He held a small smile, a rare act; a scene only you can witness. In the spur of the moment, you move subconsciously, placing your lips against his. 'It tastes like black coffee,' you note to yourself, recalling all the all-nighters he'd pull just to finish his work. Bitter, yet addicting.

Maybe one day, he'll be free of the seemingly endless stacks of paperwork on his desk. Maybe, just maybe, he'll find the time to surprise you; dropping on one knee and asking you to spend the rest of your life with him.

You look forward to that day.

Bonus:

"Hah! Just in time!" You heard a voice exclaim.

Quickly pulling away from each other, the two of you turn to the culprit.

"..Lyney. Was it necessary for you to follow us?" You question, glancing at your boyfriend who looks about ready to maul the magician to death.

A death he should've brought upon sooner.

"Oh, Would you look at the time! I'd best be going.."

"Wrio," you turn to your lover.

"Get him."

#genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #genshin wriothesley

150 notes · View notes

imaginethezeldaverse · 10 months

Text

Accustomed To You (Revali x Reader)

Based on this idea by @dorayakimanjiro where Revali uses the string of his Great Eagle bow to make you an engagement ring. Thanks for such a delightful and beautiful idea! Reader is gender neutral. ☺ The customs of the Rito were unorthodox in some ways due to their flighted anatomy and avian instincts - and in some ways they were shared amongst other every race present in Hyrule. Love, and being in love, was no strange concept to Revali. Though most were sure the too proud Rito would ever find companionship that suited his tastes, you proved them all wrong. In your eyes was a kindness he’d never experienced from anyone, a depth of selflessness and joy that was infectious. It made him soft - the unbreakable Revali becoming pliant from your genteel gestures and willing companionship. Even surprising him when you took up his bow on your own accord to nail a Bokoblin that had intended to get the jump on him (a mistake on his part, as he was so peacefully distracted by your humming while you both were enjoying the spring breeze). It was then that Revali knew he could not simply see you as just a friend or a traveling partner. No, you’d earned his respect entirely - and even moreso, his heart. So here he was, engaging in a tradition that all peoples of Hyrule were familiar with: intention of courtship. It took him a few weeks to be able to whittle the circular thing to the size of your ring finger. It was made from the finest wood Rito Village had to offer - where he would carve the tiniest intricate holes and patterns that represented him. He polished and shined it to the point of gleaming in the light of the sun; it was almost perfect. Almost. With careful precision, Revali unfurled the string of his Great Eagle bow - worn with heroic use - a string you’d more times than you could count; a string that that was basically an extension of himself and all that encompassed. He threaded the bow string through the small holes of your ring, weaving it through in a herringbone pattern until it was complete and knotted at the end. A proud feat for the Rito, whose labor could be classified as nothing less than eternal devotion. Each moment spent sculpting, polishing, and weaving until it was the perfect piece was spent with you at the forefront of his mind. Your laughter, your warmth, your love...all things Revali decided long ago he wanted at his side for eternity. His tailfeathers chuffed at the brilliance of your ring. Now it was perfect. --- “Revali, it’s marvelous!” you say with a waver in your voice, your bright eyes brimming with tears as you scanned the woven ring. His chuckle was light, “I made it...for you.” In his feathered fingers he took your hand, slipping the ring onto your finger. His voice softened, emerald hues holding your gaze with all the love he could muster, “For as long as I’ve known you, you have always felt familiar to me...One day I realized, being with you feels like the sun on my wings when I fly,” he looks down at your hand, heart full at how right it feels to see his ring on your finger, “And just like that warmth, I will always cherish you. Marry me, chickadee...” His nickname for you. A passing tease from many many months ago now turned an affectionate endearment, nurtured by the love you two both shared. Without thought, you threw your arms around him, joyful tears falling freely now. Your heart threatened to spill over from how overfilled with adoration it was. A quick pullback from his returned embrace allowed you connect your eyes once more, “Yes! Oh Revali, I would love nothing more!” and your pressed a loving kiss to his beak. He held you closer now, his tailfeathers puffing up from happiness. Eternity with you made his skies feel so much warmer.

#tloz #tloz: botw #the legend of zelda #the legend of zelda: breath of the wild #breath of the wild #revali #champion revali #rito champion #revali x reader #fluff #marriage proposal #zelda imagines #the legend of zelda imagines #drabble #revali imagines #zelda fanfiction

170 notes · View notes

mbakuetshurisprincess · 1 year

Text

Back to Black Part 2

AN: Hey y'all! The love on Back to Black was actually mind-blowing, like I had no idea y'all would like it THAT much lol. I’m glad though it was definitely really fun to write something different for Shuri and make her (I don’t wanna say the villain that seems so harsh lol) not the good guy in a fic. This is turning out to be more of a slow burn but I PROMISE all will end well… eventually. Also about the music, I’m a HUGE Amy Winehouse fan, like love that white woman DOWN! So I’m gonna pick a different song from her discography for every chapter of this fic, something that relates to the theme of this chapter. That taglist was hell to do and I don’t even think it worked fr fr, how do the pros do their tag list??

Summary: After vowing to never step foot in Wakanda again, unforeseen circumstances bring you back and face to face with everything (and everyone) you left.

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, alcoholism.

Word count: 3,085

Suggested listening: Love Is a Losing Game by Amy Winehouse

“Love is a losing game

One I wished I never played

Oh, what a mess we made

And now, the final frame

Love is a losing game”

“Sit.” You instructed Shuri, positioning her body over the closed toilet seat. She sat down with a sigh, leaning her head back against the wall behind the toilet and closing her eyes. You took the moment of her eyes not being on yours to look at her in the light.

She had lost a lot of her color, and while her skin was still a deep chocolate color, it lacked the depth that Wakandan sunlight brought her. Her jawline had gotten sharper, a telltale sign that she wasn’t eating as much as she needed to anymore. And although her eyes were closed, her brow remained furrowed. As if even in her thoughts she came face to face with the problems she was trying to avoid.

Shuri opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of you looking down at her. She recognized the look that you were giving her, it was the same way you looked at her the first time she had come out of her lab after her six-month self-containment. At that time Shuri swore she would never do anything to make you feel like that again, clearly by the look you were giving her, she had failed.

“Unbutton your shirt and get undressed, I’m going to run you a bath okay?” Shuri nodded in response and you turned on your heels, breaking your gaze from her. You approached the tub and reached to grab the tablet that controlled it.

“I- I haven't let anyone change anything Y/N, all of your settings are still there,” Shuri spoke hesitantly. She was referring to the presets you had on set up for the tub. Shuri realized when you were dating just how much you loved baths, so as a surprise she tricked the whole tub out for you. Allowing you to make custom presets that each had varying temperatures, scents, and even playlists. You smiled lightly to yourself at the memories as your fingers clicked the relaxation button. Instantly hot water began flowing out of the tub spout and the drain locked. Your playlist entitled “Best of Amy Winehouse” started playing and the smile never left your face. The smell of lavender filled the air and even though this was supposed to be for Shuri you immediately felt calmer.

Remembering Shuri’s word about not changing anything you opened the drawers next to the tub grabbing a bottle of lavender bubble bath. You poured a capful in and instantly bubbles filled the tub, another one of Shuri’s more mundane inventions: crazy strong bubble bath.

You turned back to face Shuri and found her in no better state than you left her in. Her hands were fiddling with her buttons, the tired expression still on her face. She hadn’t made it past the first button.

“Let me help you Shuri.” You said softly walking over to her. You crouched between her legs and allowed your fingers to find the buttons she struggled on. Shuri didn't move her hands and after a second she started swatting yours away.

“I can do it myself Y/N.” She said looking down at you through her heavy lids.

You took a deep breath in and exhaled softly. “You never could let anyone else help you could you?” She was now stuck on the second button, her slender fingers unable to push it through the hole.

“I-” Shuri went to speak before deciding not to, you were right and even in her drunk, hungover state she knew it. She dropped her hands to her sides and broke her eye contact with you. Your hands resumed their place and quickly undid the button.

“I’m not going to fight you Shuri.” You said moving on to the next button. “I’m not gonna sit here and fight you with every step of this. I’m here to help and if you don’t want it I have no problem leaving.” You looked up at her and she sent you a nod of understanding.

You finished the rest of the buttons and pulled the shirt off of her shoulders leaving her in only the wife beater she wore as an undershirt and her shorts. You stood from between her legs and held your hands out for her to take, she obliged. She delicately placed her hands in yours and stood up, standing a good amount taller than you. You unbuttoned her shorts and slid them down her legs as she stepped out of them. Both of you were aware of how little physical space now existed between the two of you.

Seeing her now in this more vulnerable state you were aware of just how sick she looked. While Shuri had always been slender you could now see her ribcage peeking through her skin and her once-toned body had lost much of the muscle she developed through hard training with Okoye. Shuri felt the concern in the way you were observing her and it instantly made her cross her arms to her chest, not wanting you to see any of her new scars.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” You said, removing your eyes from her body and putting them on the floor. “You can um finish undressing, I’ll go get you a towel.” You started walking backward away from her, creating distance between the two of you.

“You don’t have to leave sthandwa.” Shuri’s hands found the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up revealing some of her torso. Her hands caught your eyes, following her hands, and would they have continued as she pulled her shirt up further but the sound of the water stopping pulled you back into reality. At the sound, you spun your back to face her and walked quickly out of the room, face flushed. You needed to get your head back on straight. A few pet names and a flash of her body weren’t enough to make you forget what had happened.

You heard the sound of her body entering the water and a groan accompanying it letting you know that Shuri was in the tub. You dug through the dresser drawers and pulled out an array of butters and lotions for Shuri after the shower, along with a variety of hair products. You retrieved a large fluffy towel with a matching washcloth, a hair wrap, a new set of pajamas, and some of the hair products. You set the pajamas down on the bed before making your way back into the bathroom. Shuri’s body sat emerged in the tub with only her collar bones peeking out above the bubbles. You hung the towel and hair wrap up on a nearby towel warmer and returned to Shuri.

Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted back, resting on the edge of the tub. You grabbed some of the body wash and squirted it onto the washcloth, dipping it into the water and rubbing it together to get it soapy. You removed her arm that was closest to you from the water and started washing it. Your mind had memorized the various scars and bruises that littered her body and as you moved further up her neck to her collarbone the memories of how she got each one faded back to you.

It wasn’t until you got to the part of her chest that peaked out of the water that you noticed a new scar. It was no more than three inches long and by the looks of it couldn’t have been there longer than a few months. You ran your finger over it and felt the ridges signifying that it hadn’t healed correctly.

Shuri could read your mind by the expression on your face and the way your hand gently touched her chest. “It doesn't hurt Y/N.”

You looked over at her, you hadn’t even noticed Shuri open her eyes. Assuming the hot water and lavender had put her to sleep. You wanted to speak, to tell her that you would make sure that it healed correctly, but the words wouldn’t come to your mouth. It was almost as if your body was reminding you that healing Shuri in that way wasn’t your place anymore. So you simply nodded and continued cleaning her body.

After you felt her body had been cleaned, you grabbed the showerhead off the wall and positioned it over Shuri’s hair before turning it on. Once again Shuri let out a soft groan as the warm water touched her scalp. You used your free hand to start finger detangling some of her curls, upon realizing this was going to be a job that needed both your hands you grabbed a bottle of leave-in detangler and poured it generously over Shuri's head. You set it down on the side of the tub and massaged the substance into her scalp and curls with delicate hands.

“I miss you Y/N,” Shuri said, opening her eyes and tilting her head to look up at you.

You took a deep breath before speaking “Shuri, you moved your head, I was working on the back, and now I can’t reach it.”

Shuri tilted her head back down and you continued your work in silence for a minute before she spoke again.

“That is all you have to say?” This time she didn’t move her head so she didn’t catch you rolling your eyes. You dipped your hands into the water washing the excess product off. You stood finally from the spot you had been in for the past hour and looked down at Shuri. Normally she could tell your mood by the way your eyes looked, but for some reason now she couldn’t place your emotions.

“What I have to say is,” You walked over to the towel warmer, grabbed Shuri’s towel and hair wrap, and set it on the sink next to her. “This is your towel and hair wrap. I left lotion, butters, and pj’s on the bed. Dry off, lotion up, get dressed, and call for me when you're done, I’ll be outside the door waiting to do your hair.” The first part of the sentence was almost cold enough to make Shuri think you might not have any feelings left for her, but the second half. She heard the softness come out in your voice when you mentioned doing her hair. She hadn’t lost you yet.

She thought about giving a witty remark but didn’t want to push her luck with you on your first day back so Shuri responded with a simple “Okay.”

You exited the bathroom and then your room closing the door behind you. You leaned against the door and took a deep breath, “Focus.” You reminded yourself. You figured it would take Shuri at least twenty minutes to get herself situated given her state, you chose the time to enter her room again, opening her blinds immediately. You called to Isoke who stood guard outside of the door and she came in.

“Yes ma’am?” She spoke softly, her eyes looking straight down. You hadn’t seen her much during your time in Wakanda and if you remembered correctly she had just graduated when you left.

“Can you please have the cleaners sent in? I want this place looking more like a home when we bring Shuri back here.” Isoke nodded and turned on her heels.

“Oh and one more thing.” You spoke, causing her to pause in her tracks. “Every bottle of alcohol, every ounce of weed, all her paraphernalia, everything. I want it boxed up and burned. Do you understand me?” She nodded again and quickly scurried out of the room.

You couldn’t place it but something about her leaving you feeling unwell. You walked around Shuri’s room to see if you could find anything else to help you understand Shuri’s mental state. In her bed, you found an object that nearly brought tears to your eyes. It was the Build-a-bear you two had made on one of your trips to America. By the way its fur had started to matt you could tell she had been sleeping with it. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed but the soft call of your name brought you out of Shuri’s room and back to your own. Where Shuri now sat in the all-black pajama set that you had picked out for her, waiting for you.

You looked once more at the hair products you had pulled out, ensuring that you had everything you needed. Once you were sure you sat down on the edge of the bed. You and Shuri had done this before but unlike normal this time, she waited for your signal. You gesture in between your legs and Shuri quickly scurried into her place, being this close to you was all she desired.

Before the cheating and couples therapy and more cheating, when you were still able to pull Shuri from her lab with just a sweet smile. You would devote Sunday evenings to doing her hair, an intimate act she had only let her mother do before you. She would sit in between your legs and speak of anything that frustrated her or what inventions were not working. You would listen as you detangled and twisted her hair, preparing it for the long week ahead. Eventually similar to a child when she had finally tired herself out of complaining she would lean her head against your leg and pepper kisses to the inside of your thigh before she fell asleep. The feeling of Shuri letting you take care of her was something you cherished, especially as your relationship furthered and the time you spent together became less and less. Every once and a while when she was particularly stressed she would come to you and ask you to do her hair. And you always obliged.

You silently began your work on her hair as she sat, first separating her hair into four sections and then working with her hair a fourth at a time. You ran a wide tooth comb through her hair, starting at the ends and making your way up, in order not to snag any knots. After detangling, you split the section into fourths and twisted each fourth. You had made your way through the second section and were onto the third when Shuri rose her voice and spoke up.

“Why did you come back Y/N?” You stopped humming, considering if you even wanted to give her an answer.

“Nakia and Okoye came to get me.” You continued combing through the third section.

“And you just agreed? All the messages I sent you begging for you to come back to us didn’t mean as much as their words?” You had not forgotten what drunk Shuri was like and this was a symptom of that. There was a hint of anger in her words that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

You let out a sigh, clearly a common theme for the night, and spoke. “No, I didn't want to come back Shuri, when I said I never wanted to return, I meant it.”

“So why did you?” Shuri snaked her left arm under your left leg, wrapping it around so her hand could rest on the top of your thigh. Her words seemed accusatory but the way her hand was sitting on your thigh, that was nothing short of romantic.

You started twisting her hair before you spoke. “They told me you started drinking again.”

“I-” Shuri tried to speak but you cut her off.

“Although truthfully that wasn’t what did it.” You moved on to the next twist. “Nakia begged. She said you refuse T’Challa and begged that I get you out of bed and back into his life.

Shuri had nothing to say to this, shame ran hot through her face. She moved her hand from your thigh and sunk more into the floor. As you finished the last twist you started to feel bad about your response but she was the one who asked.

“Shuri.” You spoke her name lightly, leaving the conversation like that felt wrong.

“Hmm?” You took down the last section of her hair and started combing, repeating the process for the final time.

“Of course I missed you. I spent six whole months in the states missing you. So consumed with my want to be with you I couldn’t do anything but cry and sleep.” You separated the last section and started twisting. “But after six months, Shuri, I had to ask myself what was I missing. Was I missing the dates you stood me up on? The nights I went to bed alone while you were in the lab tinkering away with your latest technological development? That couldn’t be what had me throwing my life away. So I stopped missing you.” By the time you finished speaking you had finished the last twist, letting it plop down on her face.

Shuri nodded her head, there was nothing she could say. You were right, Shuri hadn’t treated you the way she should during the final year of your relationship.

You grabbed the silk scarf from next to you and wrapped it around Shuri’s head. The words you wanted to say to her blossomed in your mind. “But I do miss you, I miss when it was simple and just us.” Even so, you kept them to yourself.

You tapped Shuri’s shoulder and she stood from between your legs, giving you the space to stand up and stretch. You looked at the clock on the table and the time read 11 PM. Shuri followed your eyes and sighed knowing her time with you for the day was nearing a close. You smiled at her sigh and you turned to start removing objects from the bed to give Shuri a clear place to sleep. She walked over to the bed and pulled back the covers, looking back at you as you nodded signifying that you were serious about her sleeping. Shuri slipped under the covers and watched as you walked over to her.

You sat on the edge of her bed and placed your inside hand on Shuri’s cheek, she melted into your touch and placed her hand on top of yours. You leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Goodnight Shuri.” You removed your hand from her face and stood from the bed. Shuri caught your hand before you could leave.

“Stay? Stay with me tonight?” Your breath caught as you thought about her words.

“Okay.”

TAGLIST:

@vevethirst @angelsmist @coalmistyy @eriksjournal @avsphroeg @nil-eena @zane2408 @homie0sapien @noneofyabuisnezs @ilacknames @rotten-toenails @starrknessblog @adaya08 @bigbigbigfan @cour1ne7 @gaspyghosttt @gardenofshuri @chrome-edition @londyn-loves-u @shuri-my-love @trixielwt @arielna2805 @syupakingcowbaby @luxuriouslokistan-3 @shuriswift @raydestin @liv444me @aphroditeisamilf @blkmystery @bestfriend491

#shuri x y/n #shuri x reader #shuri black panther #shuri imagine #shuri udaku #shuri fanfiction #shuri x you #black panther #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagine #black panther fic #black panther fandom #letitia wright #jc writes

494 notes · View notes

itsfairly · 7 months

Note

Nanami x reader where the reader teaches Kento about Dia de los Muertos? And they make a small ofrenda and put their most beloved people on them (like Yū Haibara for Nanami).

P.S HAPPY HALLOWEEN AND DIA DE LOS MUERTOS Fairly!!! I hope you have a great holiday

Obon & Día de Muertos // Nanami Kento x gn! Latine!reader

word count: 1.7k

cw: gn!reader, latine!reader, fluff, established relationship, very little info on both celebrations (i was having flashbacks to my undergrad research papers lol), petnames (sweetheart, beautiful, love)

summary: Japan had Obon and Latino America has Día de Muertos, celebrations that are much more similar than what you two realize. So when Día de Muertos rolls around, Nanami decides to do a surprise for you just like you have one for him.

a/n: thank you for calling again, @erigaur! thank you and happy (late) halloween and dia de los muertos to you too! i had fun doing this request because i didn't know about obon before and it is so interesting how similar it is to día de muertos. Thinking about it has made me imagine how Nanami would instantly understand día de muertos and adopt some of the traditions if he had a latine partner. So here is the idea, hope you enjoy it!

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

It was around Obon week that Nanami first heard you mention Dia de los Muertos. He was explaining to you how he has gotten quite busy this week from having to balance between work and preparations for Obon, quick to explain to you how Obon is a festival in which people pay respect to their ancestors and those who have passed away for a couple of days. He knew not many cultures dealt with the topic of death, but as someone whose line of work often reminded him of it through the many losses he had to bear witness along with the possibility of his own, he found the festival to be quite important.

“Oh, like Dia de los Muertos.” You chimed in, which was met with a few blink from Nanami that asked for clarification. “Day of the Dead, we celebrate it around October-November but it's the same thing—we honor the dead as they come back to us. I didn’t know other cultures had something similar to it.”

“Not so different after all,” he hums, leaning back on his seat as he realizes the similarity between your cultures. Nanami begins to wonder about your version of the holiday. Sure, he has heard it becoming more prominent over at mainstream media in a way that Obon is not, and yet, those mentions were never in depth.

“So what do you guys do during Obon?” He heard you ask, looking up at you and seeing your curiosity in your eyes.

“We visit our ancestors and those who have passed away, take care of their graves and leave offerings and lanterns for them.” Nanami throws his head back, sighing as he thinks over the holiday. “It’s not a one-day holiday, each day has its own tradition and we hold a festival to celebrate it.”

“Huh, sounds similar to Day of the Dead. Although I would say that ours is known for holding up a shrine full of offerings for our loved ones. It’s a big part of my culture, celebrating both life and honoring death throughout a couple of days. Some places may hold festivals, colorful and quite breathtaking, but my family always made it a somewhat private celebration.”

“How so?”

“We focused more on the shrine than going to the cemetery. Getting the marigolds, cooking the meals, and everything else the shrine needed. My mom always made the altar—we call it ofrenda, by the way—looked so pretty with the candlelight and my family’s pictures that I guess it just became cozy.” You shrugged, taking your mug into your hands as silence set between you too.

Nanami let the silence take over as he thought about it. Obon was something he took seriously to no one’s surprise, he lost too many people in one lifetime that the least he could do for them was honor them during the holiday. Though it sounded quite somber, the celebration seemed quite far from it with the way the streets would light up the night sky—and it sounded like it was the same thing with your culture. It wasn’t shying away from death like other parts of the world did, it was recognizing it as an important part of life and loving those who are not with us anymore. The idea of having more than just a week of devoting his attention and time towards those gone felt right to say the least. After all, he would be a bad boyfriend if he didn’t take the chance to learn about your culture, right?

Thus, October rolled around and you started gathering things for your shrine, you realized how difficult it would be now that you were living in Japan and many of the things you needed weren’t as common as they are at home. Though things like incense and candles were easy to find and other things like dishes could be improvised, you struggled to find the sugar skulls and the papel picado that were significant for your tradition. Today seemed to be another fruitless day of searching as you headed home, maybe you would have to order them online and hope for the best. You didn’t want to make do without them.

When you arrived home, you were surprised to find Nanami outside of your place, which was a sight for sore eyes that have been searching far and wide to make your shrine justice. As you walked closer to him, you noticed he had a bag on his hands, a big one by the look of it.

“Hey you.” You greeted him with a quick peck on the lips before turning to your door and opening it. “Were you waiting for a long time? You could’ve left me a text and I could’ve headed home sooner.”

“No need, I wanted to surprise you.” Nanami smiled, holding the door open now that you unlocked it so you could head in first.

“Surprise me with whatever is on that bag?” You smirked, setting your own bags on the living room where your shrine was being set up.

You had a week before the first day of day of the dead started and though you were struggling to find some things, no one could tell you you weren’t putting in the effort. When Nanami followed you to the living room, his eyes immediately fell on the shrine. Even if he has seen pictures of how ofrendas look for day of the dead, yours looked amazing in his eyes. Many pictures were already up on top of the white mantelpiece, some were old as indicated by the lack of color in them while others were much more recent. You had pictures of your first pets and of your most dear relatives on display with their favorite dishes and objects placed before each picture frame. He may not know these people and you may not be looking at him as you took out your groceries of the day, but he couldn’t help but bow before the shrine out of respect.

“You’re setting quite the bar for all the other day of the dead shrines I’ll see.” Nanami commented, walking to your side now that you were done pulling out the contents of your bag.

You looked behind him, sighing. “I’m not in love with it, my mom’s shrine is much better than this. But I suppose it’s the best I can do.” You shrugged, turning to face him. “You didn’t answer my question though.” You smirked, looking down at the bag.

Nanami smiled at you and then looked down at what you bought for the day. “I wouldn’t call it a surprise, more so as a gift to my beautiful sweetheart.” He hummed, extending the bag for you to take.

You raise a brow at him as you take the bag, which was quite heavy. As soon as you opened it, your eyes widened as they shifted their focus back and forth between the bag and Nanami.

“How did you get these?” This bag was filled with the things you were struggling to find the most. Sugar skulls, papel picado, and what seemed like crafts modeled after pan de muerto. “How do you even know about these?” You were left stunned to say the least as you looked at your boyfriend with a dropped jaw.

“You accompanied me during Obon after our conversation that day even when I told you you didn’t have to.” He explained. “I wanted to help you celebrate your tradition like you helped me celebrate mine.”

Truth be told, he started researching about the day of the death since then and learned that many of the things you needed weren’t available in Japan. When he saw that you were starting to assemble your ofrenda, he ordered what knew would be difficult to find in Japan. An order that was delivered today, thus here he was today. You were always so respectful of his traditions and customs that he wanted to do this for you. Not only that, but if your traditions weren’t that different from one another, he had a feeling you would sulk over if your altar didn’t have every element that was needed.

“Honey, this is…I just don’t have words, my god. Thank you.” You said softly, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace that he gladly returned, placing his arms around your waist and his face on your shoulder.

“No need to thank me, you deserve to make your ofrenda look just how you like it.” He replied, trying his best to pronounce ofrenda as best as he could. Though it wasn’t a perfect pronunciation, you didn’t care, finding his accent alone adorable.

“Now that you mention it, I do need your help to make it look how I want to.” That made Nanami pull his head off your shoulder, still keeping his arms around you, as he hummed for you to elaborate.

“If it is okay with you,” you said gently, cautiously as you bit your lip before continuing, “I would like to put Haibara in the shrine. I know how important he is to you and I want to honor him because of it.”

His heart stopped the moment you mentioned his name, taking a sharp inhale that made you loosen up your embrace around his neck. But he quickly pulled you closer to him with your head on his chest, caressing your hair softly.

“It is more than okay with me. I would be honored that you would want to do this.” He whispered against your head, pressing a kiss on the top of it.

“It’s the least I can do, love.” You whispered back, closing your eyes as you felt the contact of his lips on your head.

You had made sure to leave a space for Haibara in your altar in advance, hoping and grateful that he gave you his blessing to put his picture up. After all, you knew how much death impacted his life and work. You wanted to give him more than just Obon week to honor those that he had lost by sharing Día de Muertos with him as you celebrated the life you have spent by his side.

115 notes · View notes

battydora · 1 year

Note

I'd love to see your overhaul's nsfw alphabets as well 🥺❤

note: oh sure thing, sun! i only wrote overhaul once and i want to write for him more to get fond of him yup yup. here you go, i hope you like it!

content: nsfw alphabet, afab!reader, gender neutral, established sex partners? or established relationship, whatever you prefer honestly.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Selfish at first, specially if he ends up all sweaty afterwards. After you decide being done for the night, he quickly climbs out of bed to take a shower. Sometimes he'll let you join him so he can also clean you up. If he considers he was rough to you that night, he'll massage the ached areas. He's not very sweet nor vocal.

B = Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partners)

His: Probably his hands. Even though he uses gloves 100% of the time, he enjoys being able to hold you in place, grip your hair or push you down to bed. He expresses his control over being able to manipulate your body.

Yours: Lips. For someone who dislikes being touched, specially all over, during moments of intimacy and growing horniness, he adores your lips kissing, licking and bitting wherever he commands to.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Unpopular opinion: The idea of having an orgasm is far from being as entretaining as playing around in bed. It's not his main objetive during sex and thinks body fluids are disgusting, but naturally he can't always resist it. He's tolerant, but tries to clean it as soon as he recovers his breath.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You once tried using toys on him, specifically a dildo, and he enjoyed it more than he cared to admit. He will never actually confess this to you, but that time you got him to display his ass for you to play with his anal hole and prostate, oh lawd have mercy. He lied and denied moaning your name once as if his life depended on it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

A virgin before you, honestly. Clumsy and unsure at first, but after you show him the ropes and realize what he likes, he'll catch up and be more confident and demanding. Basically the experience he gained was because of you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

Cowgirl/Cowboy. He gets to command you as you ride him, doing little to no job, he enjoys the view. But rarely any position disgustes him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Hell naw, Kai is the most serious when it comes to sex. It took you and him a lot of time to get him to be intimate to just be goofing around.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He depilates full body, no doubt, specially his pubic hair. He feels cleaner and purer that way. You can always count Chisaki is always clean and his body hair is always depilated.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

He needs a settling of his preference to have sex, it needs to be planned and set on a specific date, he doesn't like surprises. But once there, he's very focused on his goal at the moment and makes sure everything goes as he wants (this seriousness got you turned off sometime) but at the end these ideas of his have the only purpose of enjoying the act with you as much as he can despite disliking certain things, exposing that Kai cares for the moment and wants it to be as fullfilling as he can make it (for both of you) though he is not expressive about it, this is a secret he keeps locked in the depths of his heart.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Unexpected erections have bothered him. He does not masturbate regulary because of his thoughts on body fluids. But when he really needs an release, he prefers taking his time in his bedroom. He also does it taking a bath, he feels relaxed and unbothered knowing he'll be clean after that.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

BDSM (dom. role)

BDSM (sub. role but won't admit it)

Humilliation (giving)

Humilliation (receiving but also won't admit it. he enjoys struggling to have someone not taking him seriously nor respecting him, he gets desperate and he loves it)

Begging (receiving)

Not a kink, but loves staring, he makes you do interesting positions to see you and your gorgeous figure from many angles as existing.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

No other place than his bedroom, it's the only place he'll find the eventual peace and privacy he needs to focus. Nevertheless, the bathroom at the bath can be an option too.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Erotic dreams

Unexpected flashbacks of you during sexy time

Using his alias "Overhaul" during sex. Gets him in a power position he enjoys very much.

Power dynamics ↑

Rubbing genitals

Grinding against him

Cute sets of lingerie/revealing clothes, dark colours only (like black or dark purple)

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing outside the bedroom, public sex is a 100% no-no. Also getting out of his comfort zone too quickly is something he does not enjoy very much, he rathers taking his time for certain practices.

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

Not really a giver, but man, get on your knees to suck him dry and he'll be thinking about it for weeks. It drives him crazy when you swallow his seed and leave him all clean, it's like a dream to him <3

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends! Kai's most common pace (during penetration) is slow and deep. He enjoys hearing you say how he fills you up and your needy pleas everytime you ask him to please increase his speed, which he happily complies, switching from slow to intense.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

It is not his preference, Kai prefers taking his time to do the thing, he would not do a quickie no matter how desperate he feels, the much he'll do is to tease you so you tease him back, feeding his imagination for when he has time to have sex with you properly.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

I said public sex it's not his thing, but making you scream of pleasure so everyone knows he's the one you're crying and begging for? Absolutely. Kai is not worried of someone interrumpting (because no one would interrumpt him during intimacy, like, have you lost your mind) so he takes the chance and he strives to let everyone know he is -also- brilliant in this.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Kai has the stamina for as many rounds as you can imagine, but he cuts it off after the first round, maybe he'll go for two rounds maximum if he's really horny.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

If he can make you moan his name without touching you, he will use any toy of your preference. He bought a set of toys to try them out on you. But you had the chance to see his cheeks turn red when you proposed using the toys on him. "Nonsense" once said he after a dildo proposal, but the "D" in "Dirty secret" has its origins here, where after many attempts, he let you play with his ass (best feeling ever but his fragile masculinity will keep this secret hidden for a long long time).

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Flirting/getting in the mood: He teases subtly, if he is the one to take iniciative, he'll be whispering lewd things into your ear as he grinds against you. Not much temptations here, it's just to settle the mood.

Foreplay: He teases more during this part. He subtly caresses your body in order to make you needy, touching very lightly your skin and rubbing your needy and wet pussy with the tip of his gloved fingers or the tip of his cock. Kai is cruel, if you want something you will have to beg for it.

Main act: You wish he stops his teasing here, but you'll have to keep begging for him to do the things you want him to. It'll take you from two to three pleas (they don't have to be coherent tho) to get what you want, after that, have fun!

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sighs, groans and low moans. Kai holds a heavy fragile masculinity close to his chest, I can swear that, but he can't always stop himself from releasing lewd noises, specially when he's receiving a lot of pleasure, he would need to be totally aroused and overstimulated to whimper outloud, which is weird to happen (but when it does, he lets out desperate moans, his voice manages to make them sound dirty and needy as he reaches the climax.)

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Undress torso and kiss his pelvis. He can go wild for how soft and sensitive that part of his body is, every kiss against that zone can send jolts of electricity through his abdomen, making Kai release sighs and low moans of relaxation. A pleasant and satisfying feeling, it sends him to a more comfortable state of mind that makes him enjoy sex a lot more, easing his worries on being in constant touch with another person.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I'm tempted to show that screencap from the anime where we got to see Overhaul's back, because wow. A toned back and strong chest and arms, his body is like an inverse triangle so his legs seem thiner compared to his torso. But what we care about in this alphabet is about his ✨ size ✨. Average, clean and depilated pubic hair, it's a little curved but not too much. It gets a little longer when it gets hard.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Low. It's normally on you to get him in the mood, but sometimes Chisaki takes iniciative mostly after thinking about sex for a few days (or even after an erotic dream.)

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It takes him a while, specially at nightime. Kai rathers to take a shower and pee first, maybe do a little of aftercare to you. He also changes the sheets, sweat makes him uncomfortable. Theeen after that he gets comfortable and cozzy on his clean and fresh bed with you by his side and falls asleep.

masterlist | rules

#curious if you're reading this i took inspiration from your alphabet #i never described a pp before 😥#overhaul #kai chisaki #overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #mha #bnha #bnha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #i enjoyed making this woaww #overhaul my man<3

220 notes · View notes

sonofthedunes · 7 months

Note

…any thoughts on dilf Luke getting a blowjob? 🫣

i’m sure i can scrounge some up for you, anon!

i’ve always liked the idea of waking a partner early in the morning with some gentle loving-that’s what you do here for luke. perhaps he showed you a good time the previous night and you’re returning the favor; perhaps he’s been especially tired or irritable lately and you want to lighten his mood. in any case, not long after you surface from dreams and blink the sun out of your eyes, you realize you’re still in the position you fell asleep in: head cushioned on luke’s chest, rising and falling with his steady breathing, your hands curled under your chin. his heartbeat thrums against your cheek for a moment till you raise your face to his. a pang strikes you at the peace in those features, peace that is rarely if ever there when he’s awake. where does his mind lead him in the night, you wonder…to the ruined jedi temple? to some victory of the rebellion? even further, to his youth on tatooine? only luke could say, and you doubt he’d tell you. still, you gaze fondly on him as he slumbers. he’s grown dear to you, this strange old hermit. there must be some small way you could show your appreciation.

and in that moment, you shift your leg and it bumps your thigh. dormant, but you’ve learned how to wake it. what if you did now? the idea is appealing, you’ve certainly given him pleasure with your mouth before, but every other time he’s been alert and directing the action. he seems to dislike surprises (your arrival on ahch-to initially proved that), but…maybe, just maybe, he’d enjoy this one. the dampness gathering between your legs indicates you’re in favor. the morning is bright and clear. the hell with it.

laying a soft kiss on his sternum, you move slowly and quietly to wriggle under the blanket. you’re both still naked from yesterday’s activities, so there’s no trousers to unfasten or underwear to shove down. he remains dozing as you position yourself beside his legs, the better to brush a finger over his soft cock. your mouth waters at the thought of taking it inside, delicately sucking, feeling it swell against your tongue, growing harder with every pull of your lips. “what a pretty cock you have, master,” you catch yourself thinking. and it truly is, a bit bigger and girthier than average, but such a lovely pink color and the perfect size for you. reaching for it again, you loosely grip the base and lean over; bestowing a kiss this time on the head, you smile at the first faint twitch. no change in his breathing yet, no stirring of his limbs, but oh, it will come. licking your lips, you part them and inhale as he enters your mouth, your tongue lapping at the slit.

stars, he’s incredible. you’ve never savored the taste of any other lover like this, nor the veins marbling the shaft. it’s almost a pity that you needs must release it in order to breathe. dribbling a string of saliva onto the rod, you pump your hand two or three times to coat the velvet skin and resume your task. in and out, forth and back, the wet suction tugs at him as you draw his arousal from its depths. the beast is stimulated, blood rushing to your beckon call. you almost moan as you feel him begin to fill your mouth. so warm, so perfect. one hand remains gripping its prize, the other splays on his belly, scratching at the trail of grey hair leading to all the excitement. you normally close your eyes when you blow him, but this time you want to see it-the exact second when his dreams are disturbed and he groggily wakes to this worship. for shouldn’t you, as the padawan, grant proper respect to your master at all times? even if your ideas don’t quite mesh with the jedi of old…

the signs are subtle at first: a slight spasm of the leg, a hitch in the rhythm of his breathing. most would assume these were the result of a particularly vivid dream. but the stiffer his cock grows, the more it becomes apparent that he detects your wake-up call. no, more than that. his desire is rising like the tide on the shoreline, and you’re both riding it out for the long haul.

above your head and the woven blanket covering it, you hear a groan, drawn out and languorous. at the same time, his flesh hand flexes and searches blindly for the source of this satisfaction. it touches your upper back first, then wanders into your loose hair and weaves its fingers through. not to prevent you from leaving, or in preparation to shove your head down and choke you-merely to show that he knows what you’re doing for him, and he’s reveling in it.

he’s almost fully erect now, more than you can easily fit in your mouth, so you compensate by licking rough stripes from root to tip in between sucking. the first time you let go of the purpling head with an audible pop, he tenses with a hiss. and the true reward: those little clear drops leaking onto your waiting fingers, slurped onto your grateful tongue, smeared across your lips like cosmetics. it’s sticky, salty goodness that makes your clit tingle and your nipples pebble against the pallet. you dare to hope that, if you please him well enough, luke will sate your own increasing arousal.

you long ago stopped feeling insulted that he doesn’t lavish praise on you in bed. it simply isn’t his way (though he’s hinted that it was in the past). still, his contentment shows in his erratic breaths, his fingers massaging your scalp…and the occasional exclamation you drag from him. “fuck,” he whisper-moans, voice rough from sleep. “fuck, that’s good.” that short sentence means more to you than full-on cursing and writhing from any other man. he’s holding back, he wants to plunge his length down your throat and fuck your mouth, but he’s allowing you to set your own pace and work him as you see fit. if you really wished to tease him, make his balls ache and erection weep, you might edge him once or twice to make his climax even more intense…but this morning you simply don’t possess the patience. you want him to come, and soon. a bit selfishly, you want to wallow in the knowledge that it was you who unraveled him, the great jedi master. who helped him, even for a handful of seconds, to forget his troubles.

your tongue caresses him plushly, lips pursed over the steadily dripping slit. the large hand that rests in your hair tightens with your movements, tugging occasionally when you give an especially hard suck. he’s close-you can sense it in the force (are you allowed to use the force like this? probably not), but also in the tightness of his balls when you touch them, in his ragged gasping and thighs clenching much like your own. and at last, you decide to speak.

“please master,” you plead, a string of spit connecting you to his prick, “let me make you come. i want to swallow every drop.”

a strained huff from above you. ever closer he creeps. “you feel so good in my mouth, master,” you hum, licking a prominent vein. “almost as good as you feel in my pussy.” just for fun, you scrape your fingernails along his abdomen and he jumps slightly. “i love being able to serve you like this…to please you. only you.”

he grunts in response, those same muscles you just scratched taut. nearly there now-he’s dancing on the precipice. he just needs a push, and you’ll happily provide it. “master,” you purr, “come in my mouth, stars, i want it. i want to be worthy of you and your beautiful cock.” you kiss his hard-on and it kicks with another spurt of liquid. like a flash it’s licked clean and he moans. “give it to me. please.”

and give he does. he shudders and you barely have time to fit your mouth over him before he gives a yank on your hair and great ropes of cum are flooding your cheeks, spilling down your throat. with every one a choked groan escapes him and his whole body jerks, fully caught in the tidal wave of orgasm. you don’t quite fulfill your earlier promise: some of the precious pearly elixir creeps down your chin and from the sides of your mouth, dropping back onto the man who gave it to you. you can’t help but gag and choke a little, but you swallow as much as you can. the salt is all you can taste. panting, you slide off his body and wipe your mouth, watching his cock soften, its purpose complete. squeezing your eyes tight to recalibrate yourself, your ears catch luke’s own efforts to regulate his breathing. the grip on your hair is released. the spell dissipates. time to start the rest of your day, you suppose.

suddenly the pallet rustles and the blanket is peeled back, and you’re staring into your master’s face. he regards you sternly, but he’s flushed from his hairline to his collarbone, and a light sheen of sweat dews his skin. immediately you scramble to your knees. “i-…good morning, master,” you bow your head briefly. “i apologize for being so…forward. i failed to control myself. i accept whatever punishment you decide.”

luke squares his jaw and knits his brow. amazing how he exudes such power and dignity, even totally nude and spent. he considers his words before he answers. “your apology is accepted,” he says. “but you must learn to manage your feelings.”

“yes, master.”

“i know it’s difficult. i struggle with it too. but that’s no reason to give in to them.” he rises from the bed and begins hunting for his discarded clothes. “now go wash and dress. we have a lot of work to do.”

you nod, chastised. “yes, master,” you repeat, beginning a similar process on your end-only to halt when he adds, almost as an afterthought:

“of course, when i was taught to control my emotions, that wasn’t included. i think…i think in certain situations we can bend the rules a bit.” you can’t see his face, but you just know the ghost of a smile is playing at his lips. “do we agree?”

a sigh of relief drifts from you. you’re finding that he’s full of surprises. “we do, master,” you covertly grin as you snatch up your tunic from the floor. “we definitely do.”

#ask #luke skywalker #luke skywalker smut #luke skywalker x reader #not sure how i feel about this but here it is anyway

54 notes · View notes

plumeriacosmos · 3 months

Text

who's gonna break the tension, baby? (i kinda like it, maybe)

I couldn't get this idea out of my head, and I still can't stop laughing at Claire's delivery, so hear home some polin shenanigans

“Look at the state of you,” she said haughtily, putting a hand on her hip. “I never asked you to marry me. Never in my life did I expect you to ask me to be your wife. I wouldn’t even dare to call you worthy to be my husband.”

AO3 link

-x-

or Penelope hears the love of her life swear that he would never marry her, so she has some choice words for him. Alas, Colin is at his core, a Bridgerton who does not know how to back down from a challenge.

“... and I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington!”

“Oh!” She couldn’t help but exclaim. Immediately, the three brothers turned to her, surprise etched on their faces the same way that hers was. Soon, Colin’s face turned red, his mouth opening and closing as if he was trying to say something, making excuses that she couldn’t even be bothered to listen.

“Not going to marry me,” she repeated softly, and slowly she felt her face scrunch up in disgust and anger. She looked directly into Colin’s eyes. She could see there was shame and other emotion she couldn’t decipher, but Penelope was filled with annoyance; she didn’t even try to figure them out.

She watched as Colin began to splutter. His face, which was already pink, seemed to have turned red. Anthony and Benedict were trying to hide their sniggers from where they stood behind him, and even Benedict was biting his knuckle to refrain himself from laughing out loud.

Penelope felt some sense of victory, some pride in being able to ignore the sound of her breaking heart, and leaving him out of words. There were many ways she could have handled this, but she was happy that this was how it turned out.

“Excuse me?” Colin said, an incredulous expression on his face. “‘Not worthy to be your husband?’”

Penelope raised her chin in defiance. “You heard what I said. I do not think that you would need it to be repeated, unless-”

“I heard what you said,” Colin retorted, taking a step closer to her. This sudden proximity made Penelope tilt her head up, and she realized that he looked offended by her statement, yet Penelope could care less of what he felt.

He stared at her with intensity, one full of irritation, challenge, and something that she couldn’t quite decipher. Penelope pushed that thought to the backs of her mind. It was no use dwelling on something she didn’t know.

“Good!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms. “I am glad to know that your hearing is quite sound.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, looking down at her in a way that made her feel quite small and warm all over her body. This made Penelope yet again realize the gap in their heights, and she so thoroughly wished she had a few more inches to her, just so she wasn’t so bothered by the intensity in his blue eyes.

“Take it back,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You take that back now .”

“And why should I?” She snapped. “If that is the opinion I have? Which is something that you should even be caring about.”

He glared at her, looking vexed and that same emotion she couldn’t recognize, yet it was spreading warmth from the depths of her stomach. She held his glare. Usually, she would look away and let him have this victory, but Penelope could not give him that satisfaction this time.

Abruptly, she was met with an epiphany. She realized she wanted to vex him, wanted to see the exasperated expression on his face, wanted to hear the way he released an incensed breath he was holding. She wanted to see all other emotions Colin could make, all because of her.

All of the sudden, they heard a cough that broke them from their glares toward each other. Both of them finally looked away from each other, and turned to the direction where it came from.

Anthony and Benedict both have amused looks on their faces, and Penelope felt embarrassment creep up on her as she finally remembered that they were not alone. She knew that constantly being in Colin’s presence unchaperoned was going to land them into trouble one day. This familiarity made her complacent that she forgot that it wasn’t always just them in the world.

Trying to save some face, she cleared her throat.

“Now if you will excuse me gentlemen and,” she gave a sneer towards Colin, “ Mister Bridgerton. I would like to return home. I am expected for dinner.”

Benedict, who couldn’t help it anymore, bursted out in laughter, as Anthony offered to walk her home. He too, couldn’t stop the amused smile still etched on his lips. Penelope, who suddenly felt tired, just let him do what he wanted. The sooner she was gone from Colin’s vicinity, the better.

She was almost out of the door, when Colin’s rang out into the empty foyer.

“Just you wait, Penelope Featherington,” he called out to her. “You will eat your words, and I will prove to you that I’m more than worthy to be your husband.”

Penelope could only roll her eyes. She didn’t see that happening, as she did not think she would be worthy to be his wife, as he declared that he certainly did not see that he could ever marry her.

“Good night, Mister Bridgerton.”

And with one last curtsy, she allowed Anthony to escort her home.

----

I feel like there's potential for a chaptered fic here where Colin courts the fuck out of Penelope, because he wants to prove her wrong, and of course, he realizes some feelings. some lady whistledown plot shenanigans thrown into the mix. maybe some show elements. but i idk if thats gonna see the light of day lmao

Title is from Dagny's Tension

#bridgerton #polin #polin bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton tv #Spotify

32 notes · View notes

broken-clover · 8 months

Note

Could I request hc’s abt how the ersb gang falls in love? And how they act while pining over their eventual S/o? I miss them :v

Aw, certainly! I can never say no to these! Every time it pops up from the ether it puts a smile on my face

Elphelt

-Elphelt falls in love hard and fast, the actual difficult part is giving the whole thing more depth instead of it just being an idealized concept

-To try and clarify that idea, Elphelt goes in expecting a lot of things about what a relationship could be, y'know, classic scripted romcom trappings up to the nines. The first time something goes undeniably wrong, she'll have a moment of confused realization when the relationship doesn't immediately explode once she's strayed away from some imagined script

-Does not hesitate to make her feelings known, she's the sort to leave love notes in lockers and heap unsubtle praise on her object of affection

-Despite that, she still wonders whether or not she's being too subtle

-Frequent daydreamer, if you approach her in the midst of it she's probably doodling romantic scribbles all over what's nearest. Be careful not to leave any political documents nearby unless you want them plastered with 'Elphelt x s/o' and hearts with arrows all over it

Sin

-He doesn't have a lot of personal experiences with romance, so at first he gets a little confused and wonders why he wants someone to be best friends really, really badly

-He has that infamous 'oh' moment where it just slaps him across the face several weeks in.

-His parents aren't exactly great with advice given their own weird romantic history, but they're at least good at emphasizing the idea of loving deeply even if the circumstances are strange.

-Any attempted confessions ends up taking a long tangent about chairs

-Has no idea how pining works, if anything he'll just end up shouting it and/or dumping everything out to the first person who asks why he's being so absentminded today

Ramlethal

-Ram is the sort of person who believes that a partner isn't too different from a very very good friend. As such, she'll want to make sure she considers someone a friend before she can fathom the thought of being her partner

-Sometimes she gets a little ahead of herself, she can have a hard time knowing what to do in a 'normal' relationship and isn't fully certain whether or not it's appropriate or crossing a boundary . She's trying, but there isn't exactly a manual available

-She knows people like dogs, though, so Ketchup is a good secret weapon. Even if it's painfully obvious she set him out and guided him over in order to have an excuse to start a conversation.

-Ram has an impeccable poker face, but conversely to her sister, she thinks she's being too obvious and is genuinely surprised when someone says otherwise.

Bedman

-He is too intelligent and rational for such sappy displays. He has some level of dignity

-No, that little tchotchke on his shelf isn't the same one that you offered and he reluctantly took, Sin. What are you asking for. Are you a cop.

-He gets very, very mad about having a crush and it's kind of adorable. The thoughts do go away as soon as he wants them to and he scrunches up his face like a grumpy dog

-Unsubtle. Painfully, painfully unsubtle. He does everything shy of walking up to them and shouting 'I'M NOT THINKING ABOUT YOU AND YOU CAN'T PROVE I AM'

#aww doing one of these again makes my soul feel cozy #I've been so busy with the new blog that it's a surprise to see an ask sent to this one now #ask #imagines #guilty gear #elphelt valentine #sin kiske #ramlethal valentine #bedman #ESRBverse #...man when's the last time I've gotten to use that tag?

37 notes · View notes

mangoisms · 1 year

Text

i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute)

━ chapter two: out of my depth at this altitude | read chapter one | read chapter three

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.4k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: this fic is supposed to be updated once a week on fridays but the reception has been so nice, i couldn't help myself from posting a bonus chapter before then. as a treat. also... would anyone be interested in a tag list for this fic? let me know, and enjoy!

You joked about it but, really, Tim Drake is a quick study. Not that doing your laundry is that hard to begin with — well, if you have no idea where to start, it is, but once you know the basics, it’s all fairly self-explanatory. You get to ask about the fabric softener when you two go back to put your clothes in the dryer and he mutters something about them feeling weird afterward, which you valiantly try not to laugh at. By the way, he sighs at you, you are not successful.

But after that? Well… that’s kind of it and you step off the elevator at one in the morning with a basket full of warm and freshly-folded clothes, feeling a tad disappointed that it’s all over with.

But then Tim says, “See you next weekend,” and the feeling disappears quickly.

Fate, you quickly learn, also seems to be looking out for you.

The next day at noon, you’re waiting to head downstairs, eyes narrowed on your compact mirror as you roll on a darkly tinted lip balm. The elevator doors open, but you’re distracted with the lip balm, so you don’t notice who else is in there. Not until Tim calls your name, surprising you so much your hand jerks and a light smear of the tinted lip balm shines on your cheek.

He sputters a laugh. “Sorry!”

“This is payback for all my jokes, then, is it,” you say, stepping in and, seeing the button for the ground floor pushed, start digging through your tote bag for the small pack of makeup wipes you usually carry with you.

“It’s not,” Tim says, smiling. “The jokes were a fair tradeoff for you teaching me the ways of laundry.”

You nod sagely. “Indeed.”

He chuckles. “Where are you off to?”

“Grocery shopping,” you say, cleaning off the streak on your cheek, then making sure you didn’t smudge anything else around your lips. “You?”

“Same, actually. Well, just for the detergent. Speaking of, you know, I realized sometime last night I never got the brand from you. They turned out pretty good.”

“Like your butler did it?”

“I never should’ve told you that.”

You laugh, putting away your makeup wipes, the mirror, and the tube of lip balm.

You realize, then, that Tim is dressed in something other than sweats and a t-shirt — which is an excellent look, definitely, but he’s in his outside clothes, in jeans and a thick jacket much like you are to fight off the early February cold.

He looks like a model, to be honest. You spy the brand of his jacket. Patagonia. A Patagonia model, then. Jeez. Patagonia’s expensive. But to him, it’s probably nothing. You managed to thrift yourself a slightly worn Columbia parka which has served you well against several years of bitter Gotham winters.

He tucks his hands in his pockets, cornflower blue eyes trained on the red numbers that tick by for each floor you pass. His side-profile is disturbingly perfect. So not fair.

“Where do you do your shopping, then, if you don’t mind me asking?” he asks, glancing at you and making you look away.

“Stalking me?”

“That’s why I said if you don’t mind me asking. So, we didn’t have to do that.”

You laugh. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I figure a… mostly high-profile figure like yourself can’t be in the business of being creepy. Reputation and all that. Though I suppose you could pay people off. Or call a hit on them.”

But while the other notable rich families of the city have all kinds of skeletons in the closet, the Wayne’s don’t. Mostly. No whispered rumors of them paying off sexual harassment rumors or other morally reprehensible shit.

“Oh, please. And what’s this about mostly high-profile figure?” He almost looks offended but you spy a playfulness to him, so it’s more of a mock offense than anything. Like he doesn’t actually care. He probably doesn’t.

But still, you go along, smiling apologetically as you shrug.

“Weeell… it’s not like I recognized your face.”

“Some do.”

“But I did recognize your name. So. Mostly high-profile. See, if you were, say, Lex Luthor —” he wrinkles his nose in deep disgust and you choke out a laugh “— then yeah, I’d recognize you immediately.”

“Fair enough. And also, please don’t ever compare me to him again.”

“What, you don’t like him?”

“Do you?”

“Fair point, fair point. Anyway,” you chuckle, “I’m going to ShopRite.”

“The one off Schnapp Ave?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh. Me, too. Are you in the parking garage?”

You snort. “No. I bike. Not great for bulk shopping but what can you do?”

He pauses, seeming to think hard. You raise an eyebrow as the doors open and the two of you step out, heading for the lobby.

“I could — I mean, since we’re going to the same place…” he gestures a little awkwardly; it’s not the request itself that trips him up, you think, it’s something else — probably not trying to come off creepy. “I could give you a ride?”

“A ride, huh?”

Tim spreads his palms. “I’m not trying to kidnap you or something, I swear.”

“But a would-be kidnapper would say that, would he not?”

“I don’t know,” he says, awkwardness easing out for vague amusement. “I think a would-be kidnapper would be, well, better at this whole thing. Like not taking you out from the main entrance.”

“Think about that a lot, do you?”

“Text a friend where you’re going,” he says, smiling. “And let me give you a ride so you can bulk up on your groceries without worrying about getting it back here.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

But of course you’re going to say yes. You consider yourself a fairly good judge of character.

There is much to be said about Tim Drake.

As mentioned before, the adopted son of billionaire Bruce Wayne; his parents — you shamelessly looked it up last night — used to own Drake Industries, a company that specialized in medical equipment and supplies before it eventually closed down. Both of them passed away, his mother first when he was younger, then his father later; Bruce Wayne adopted him in his teens.

He had a brief stint as figurehead CEO of Wayne Enterprises when he was seventeen, was also apparently engaged to Tamara Fox, the daughter of the current WE CEO, Lucius Fox, and also had an assassination attempt on him. This is followed up with being, like, regularly held hostage for ransom.

A lot of drama, basically, but not much about him himself.

You expected — and you’ll admit this — a much haughtier persona than the one you are currently encountering. After all, he could have taken offense at your teasing about the laundry and refused your help. But he let it happen — not hesitating to add his own jokes at his expense, too.

And here he is now, offering you a free ride and free use of his car’s trunk for your grocery shopping pleasure.

Maybe you are about to be kidnapped.

But at least it was in the name of bulk shopping.

He scratches his head. “I also have a Costco membership if that sways you?”

You’re practically in love.

“You know the way to a woman’s heart,” you sigh dramatically.

“Free trunk space and Costco?”

“Free trunk space and Costco.”

You text your brother for good measure, though.

It’s not serious. Mostly, it’s you having your fun.

i’m going grocery shopping with tim drake. if i don’t text you back by five, call the cops

WHAT

WHAT???

WHAT!!!!!!!!!!

You just smile and put your phone away.

You have nothing to worry about.

Well, you knew that but over the course of the day, as you first hit Costco and buy toilet paper, paper towels, detergent, and other groceries in bulk, then you go to ShopRite to get the rest of the stuff, you realize Tim is actually… a lot of fun.

He has this snark to him that comes out in the most unexpected moments and you would be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t like how it keeps you on your toes.

Plus… it’s fun to grocery shop with someone else. Maybe that sounds weird but… you don’t know. You like the companionship.

(And that, of course, could be the gnarled loneliness inside of you finally being soothed away in the company of a person who doesn’t have to be here with you, yet is.)

The sun is setting when you two get back to the apartments. The parking garage is adjacent to the building and they have little carts people can use to take up their groceries more quickly.

“I mean,” Tim starts, easily lifting the case of water bottles from the trunk and dropping it into the cart. “At the risk of sounding creepy again, I don’t mind helping you take this stuff up.”

“In that case, I owe you.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

“Aw, come on. You let me monopolize your trunk, your Costco membership, and your time.”

“Believe me, I didn’t have anything planned for today. This is a much better use of my time.”

You don’t know how to handle that. Which is why you insist.

“You know the Indian place on Cameron? On me.”

“They do have good biryani,” he muses. “Alright. Why not.”

You manage to haul everything into two carts. He only got the detergent, which he says he’ll just take upstairs with him after.

You dig out your keys on the elevator ride up, the two of you deciding on what to order.

“Just leave the carts near the door,” you say when you get to your apartment. “And take off your shoes, too, please.”

“Sure.”

You unlock the door, belatedly realizing you did not prepare your place for guests but you are assuaged by the reminder that you’d cleaned last night like you always do, so, there’s that.

Your apartment is an open floor plan, with the kitchen immediately to your left and then the living room to the right. Your bedroom and bathroom are off to the side of that.

You scan everything quickly as you kick off your shoes. Your coffee table is the only thing not quite suited for visitors, with your laptop and graded papers scattered over it. Right, that reminds you, you need to finish those for this week and get the grades inputted…

“Nice socks.”

“Huh?” You blink, turning and spying an amused look on Tim’s face. Your eyes flicker to your socked feet in the next second, barely remembering you had put on a pair of black socks with a pattern of the Flash’s symbol on them.

You grin proudly, looking back at him. “Thank you. I think he’s pretty cool. Well, I think most of them are cool…”

“League supporters are hard to come by these days.”

You roll your eyes. “I know. But I don’t care for the government’s posturing about what they should and shouldn’t do. They’ve saved the world, like, a bunch of times. They should be grateful.”

“Hard to accept they need the help.”

“Yeah, then they go pouring my tax dollars into the military when it can go literally anywhere else. Jerks.”

Tim takes off his shoes and sets them aside while you shut the door behind you. He stands up, taking in your apartment with clear curiosity.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say, gesturing to it. By now, more than six months after moving in, you’ve made it your home. Picture frames on the walls, a few choice paintings, some old drawings from when you worked at Gotham Elementary right after graduating. Decorating the TV stand and various surfaces are little figurines and pieces of pottery you’ve made. You do pottery classes twice a month at the rec center in Chinatown. You’ve been doing it since you graduated three years ago.

His eyes spy your twenty-gallon tank against the wall, behind the couch and beside the bookshelves.

“Reptiles?” he guesses, squinting to get a better look.

You smile, stepping forward and beckoning him with you.

“No, they’re hermit crabs. I needed some pets like me.”

He snorts, then bends forward to peer inside. A thick layer of substrate covers the bottom. You have two ponds of freshwater and saltwater on opposite sides of the tank, a handful of sanitized shells scattered about, moss pits, a little holder suctioned to the glass with a fish net attached to it so the crabs can climb into it, and then various fake plants and pieces of driftwood and hollowed logs.

“This is their crabitat,” you inform him. You point to a crab with a pink shell mottled with brown, currently climbing the fishnet. “That’s Sid.” Then to another crab with a tan shell speckled with red moving into a hollow log. “That’s Diego.” And finally, a crab with a darker shell, with black spots chilling by a plant. “And that’s Manny.”

You both are bent forward, peering into the crabitat. Tim scrunches up his face and looks at you. “Did you… name them after the characters from Ice Age?”

You grin widely at him. “Yes.”

He laughs. He laughs for a while, actually, enough so that you start to feel a tad embarrassed.

“Hey!”

“No, no, no, I’m not making fun of you,” he quickly says, a little breathless, cornflower blue eyes bright with mirth. “I just… Talk about a blast to the past. I think the last time I saw those movies I was a kid.”

“Well, see how it makes an impact? You remembered their names.”

“True,” he says, chuckling. “Haven’t they come out with a bunch of movies since?”

“Mm, yeah, and they’re okay, except for the most recent one. That one is just a total mess because a handful of the actors didn’t come back for it. And also they tried some new animation and it looks so bad.”

“Kids probably don’t notice that,” he points out teasingly.

“Well, they should pay their respects to the original movies! All my childhood media was enjoyable for me and sometimes for my parents, too, because they always had adult jokes in it. Like in Spongebob. Or the earlier seasons, anyway.”

“I was never allowed to watch that,” he admits.

“Ugh, you aren’t the first person to tell me that. Some of my old college friends said their parents didn’t let them watch it because it would ‘kill their brain cells.’ You know what’s not just killing brain cells but indoctrinating them, too, these days? Paw Patrol.”

Tim lets out another loud laugh.

“I don’t watch it, either, okay! I just watch Spongebob sometimes and I guess it thinks I’m a child so it plays, you know, commercials geared towards kids and god, the amount of Paw Patrol commercials I get is so annoying.”

“I’m surprised you lean toward it,” he says, the two of you going over to the carts. “Since you’re a teacher’s aide.”

“Well, that’s the good thing about middle schoolers. They’re out there watching TV and movies that they probably shouldn’t be watching, so that’s not what I’m hearing about.”

“I’m not sure I’ve heard the words ‘good’ and ‘middle schoolers’ in a sentence before.”

You snort, then feel bad immediately. Your kids are good. Annoying sometimes, sure, but they’re kids. Everyone is annoying every now and then. Plus…

“I wasn’t too keen about being saddled with the six graders, either,” you admit. “But I’ll tell you what Ms. C — the teacher I help — told me. Maybe the reason middle schoolers are so… not fun to be around is because they can tell their teachers and practically every other adult in their life doesn’t want to be around them, either.”

He tilts his head. “Fair point. But also — puberty.”

“There is also the puberty,” you agree.

Tim chuckles and the two of you get to unpacking the groceries. You tell him he doesn’t have to — seriously — but he simply says he might as well help out. Of course, the process is made doubly longer by the fact that he has no idea where anything goes and you have to point him in the right direction but just like earlier, you don’t mind.

After, he pulls on his shoes, grabs the container of detergent he bought, and tells you he’ll take the carts back downstairs and put his stuff away, then come back.

You let him go and call in the order to the restaurant, then feed your crabs and collapse onto your couch. Your weekends are usually for resting your abused feet, since during the week, you are moving and standing constantly, but you don’t mind today’s aches, knowing it was accompanied with… one of the best days you’ve ever had in a long while.

With that, you decide to let your brother know there is no need to call the cops.

hi i made it unscathed

haha just kidding today was so fun

i went to costco!!! my tp is stocked for Days

Hello????

hello

Don’t do that. What on earth are you doing hanging out with Tim freakin Drake?

I don’t think that’s his middle name. Isn’t it jackson?

You can faintly recall that from when you unashamedly googled him last night.

A knock on your door. You heave yourself from the couch and open it. Tim steps inside.

“Hey, what’s your middle name?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Jackson. Do you want to know my mom’s maiden name, too? Maybe the street I was born on?”

You grin, going to sit back down. “I don’t know. I mean, if you’re offering.”

He shakes his head at you, then hesitates. You gesture to the couch. “Make yourself at home, seriously. After today, we’re practically BFFs.”

“Should I be worried about you?”

You wave a hand. “That’s just the crippling loneliness, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re…” He shakes his head again and sits down. You have the TV on, one of the various streaming services you shamelessly leech off your brother for pulled up. The page for Ice Age is there, too, waiting for you to hit play.

“You said you didn’t have anything else to do and I took that to heart.”

“I can see that,” Tim says dryly, but the quirk of his lips belies the tone.

You glance back at your phone where your previous text is. You snort.

“Your middle name really is Jackson?”

“Yes…” he says warily. “Why?”

“You have three first names.”

He lets out a choked laugh. “You’re the worst.”

You giggle and pick up the remote, pressing play. “Sorry!”

“Whatever. I do all this…”

“Hey!”

He grins and glances at the kitchen. “You mind if I grab a green tea?”

“Only if you grab one for me, too.”

He stands. “I guess. Even though you’re bullying me.”

“I’m sorry, you just make it so easy.”

Tim rolls his eyes good-naturedly at you and crosses to your kitchen, opening the fridge.

“There’s ice in the freezer since they’re not cold yet. And the cups are in the cabinet to the left.”

“Got it, thanks.”

You take a second to watch him shut the fridge, then step to the side to open the cabinet, pulling out two glasses. You’re crazy for thinking it, you know, but you don’t… terribly mind the sight of Tim in your kitchen. You really don’t.

It’s a good thing you two are friends, then.

Wait.

You are friends, right?

“Hey, Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we friends now?”

Maybe it’s elementary to ask but… communication is important and all that. You would hate to think of you two as friends only to later realize he thinks you two are just… you don’t know, acquaintances?

He turns, smiling faintly. “And here I thought my offer to let you use my trunk and Costco membership said that clearly.”

“I didn’t want to assume!”

“I don’t just let anyone do those things, you know. Not strangers. Only for friends and strange girls who judge me for not knowing how to do my laundry and make fun of my name.”

“I am buying you dinner.”

“Do you buy dinner for strange guys who don’t know how to do their laundry?”

“No,” you admit. It really does say it, the fact that you even let him inside your place. Let him commandeer your kitchen for green tea, too.

Your face warms and you look away. “Alright! I’m just making sure, okay…”

“Yes,” he says, and when you glance at him, he’s smiling at you. “We’re friends.”

The butterflies in your belly go a little crazy at that. You have to look away again.

“Cool,” you mutter.

He chuckles and turns back to pour out the drinks.

You split your attention between him and your phone. He doesn’t stand in front of the counter but allows the glasses with the ice to be in plain view. For your sake, you’re sure.

we’re friends. just discussed it. i made a friend!!!

…….. He’s TIM DRAKE

so?

Jesus christ

Tim returns with a now-cold glass of green tea, ice clattering around inside, and you hit play on the movie. Your dinner arrives shortly after. You were right, of course, in that the very first Ice Age movie is more than a little amusing even for adults. Especially for adults.

“What other movies do you like, then?” he asks.

“Hmm. I’m partial to Mamma Mia. I like ABBA. And Meryl Streep and Amanda Seyfried. You know, I almost named the boys, um, Sam, Harry, and Bill.”

He blinks at you.

“You know, the — the guys! The baby daddies!”

A slow shake of the head.

“You’ve never seen Mamma Mia?”

“I’ve seen… The Devil Wears Prada?”

You pause, raising an eyebrow. 2000s dramas don’t seem to fit him but honestly you’ve never actually seen the movie, so maybe it’s different from what you think.

“I’ve never seen that one.”

He gives you a look, saying See? You, too.

“Alright,” you say, grinning. “You have to see Mamma Mia and I have to see The Devil Wears Prada.”

“We could just do it now,” he says, glancing at the TV, where the credits for Ice Age are rolling. The second movie, Ice Age: The Meltdown, is being advertised as the next movie you should watch.

“Which one? I think we should watch Mamma Mia.”

“Well, I think —” he stops as something vibrates. You think it’s your phone initially but then he slips his out of his pocket. It’s already nine. He grimaces. “I think we’ll have to make that decision another time.”

“Hey, no worries. I’ve taken up enough of your time. I should probably be getting ready for bed, too.”

Though, the good thing about Gotham Pointe being a newly-opened and very funded charter school is that, in a move to distinguish itself from the other charter schools in the city, school starts at nine instead of seven-thirty. It was a point that they wanted to move the starting time later, in an effort to heed the countless research that kids were better off starting their school days later rather than earlier. It still ends at four like the other ones, too.

But you have to be there at eight. Which is still a better alternative than anything else, of course.

He types something into his phone, lips pursed, then stands, collecting the trash from dinner and putting it back into the bag.

“You don’t have to —”

“Least I can do,” he says, tying off the bag, your coffee table now clear of trash. Your laptop and stack of… shit, not graded papers sits in the corner. You still have to do that. Damn. Oh, well. This was too much fun.

“So,” he starts, lips pursed, thinking quickly as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll take a raincheck. I’m thinking you can host for Mamma Mia and it’s only fair if I host for The Devil Wears Prada?”

“Oh, you mean —?”

“If you’re comfortable with it,” he quickly says. “If not, we can do it here. I just, I don’t know. Want it to be fair so I’m not always hogging your space.”

I don’t mind, you want to say.

You don’t.

Instead, you smile and shrug. “You haven’t kidnapped or killed me yet, so, sure, I’d like that.”

“Well, you see, I need to build trust first.”

“Ohhh, of course, of course. Makes sense.”

He grins at you and picks up the bag. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. Have a goodnight.”

You sit up to pull your laptop and the papers to you, picking up your blue glitter pen. The kids tease you about it but you think they secretly like it.

“Oh, wait,” he says, straightening after pulling on his shoes.

“What?”

“Your number,” he says, shaking his head. “I was about to leave when I realized I don’t have your number and you don’t have mine.”

You stand, picking up your phone. “I completely forgot, too. Here.”

You pass off your phone and squash down any hesitancy in him handling it, with the yellowed clear case and a couple cracks in your screen protector. Then you gingerly accept his, sleek and new, the display bright and flowing smoothly as you type in your phone number.

“Please don’t leak my number to the press,” is what he says when he passes his phone back to you.

You laugh. “I promise on my Justice League sock collection.”

“Now, that’s serious.”

You back away, giving him a two-fingered salute like you did last night. “I’d never betray them.”

He smiles, bids you one last goodnight, then steps out. You lock the door behind him.

Then you step away, staring at it for a moment, a silly grin full of giddiness growing on your lips.

You look back at your phone, then burst out laughing when you see how he did his contact.

First Name: Timothy Jackson

Last Name: Drake

A poke at you for that comment about his name, you’re certain.

Not like it matters, anyway.

You are far too pleased to have his name in your phone.

Not because he is Timothy Jackson Drake, twenty-three-years-old and one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors, but because he is Tim, your friend who can’t handle spicy foods but eats it, anyway, who likes The Devil Wears Prada, and who has so much more about him that you cannot wait to find out.

Your friend.

What a thought.

reblogs are appreciated!

#red robin #dc comics #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #dc comics x reader #red robin x you #red robin x reader #red robin x y/n #tim drake imagine #dc comics imagine #batfam x you #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader

140 notes · View notes