#but i dunno i'm buzzing and i had to get this out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

literaila · 2 months

Text

hey

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you're both drunk and (not) in love

warnings: alcohol mentions, angst if you're me, fluff, nonsensical conversation

a/n: i will be messing with this later but if i have to think about it for any longer i'll cry (also listen to be (acoustic) because i said so)

last part | next part

year four.

the house is almost silent, tonight.

usually, at close to midnight, it's quiet. the house will buzz as the furnace works, the house settling itself into the earth, but there's none of the laughter that echoes throughout the hallways like it does during the day. no names being yelled across a threshold, much too loud for the size of the house itself.

the kids are always in bed this late, and usually you and satoru are too--besides the nights where you stay up talking or arguing, speaking with soft voices for so long that your throat is sore by morning.

those are the nights when you fall asleep on the couch together, or you migrate to one of your rooms, speaking nothing of the broken rules in your relationship.

satoru's bed is a lot more comfy than yours, anyway. his blankets are heavier and his pillows are fluffier.

or that's what you usually think to yourself in the morning when you wake up there once again. it's an excuse, sure, but at least it's more reasonable than reality.

but tonight is quiet because the kids aren't home. and it's almost midnight, and the two of you are just walking in through the door.

and, admittedly, you're a little bit drunk.

"don't--" you say, laughing languidly, tripping over satoru's legs as he pushes the door open. it took him five tries to unlock it, but you don't say anything, because everything looks a bit uneven. "don't forget to shut it all the way."

satoru ignores you. "why are all of the lights off?"

you step over the tiny shoes left by your front door, almost tripping on air, and flick on the lights. you squint at the brightness, groaning.

but the lights do nothing to ease the eerieness of the hallway.

you can't remember the last time you came home this late. the last time you had a night without the kids.

it's probably why the two of you went a little overboard at the bar. but it's hard to keep up with shoko anyway, so it's not really your fault.

satoru hiccups. "why don't we have night vision?"

"humans suck," you answer, trying to kneel to take off your shoes, which are pinching at your feet.

"true," he says, kicking his own sneakers against the wall. his jacket is already off, and on a normal night you would chastise him for not hanging it up, but at the moment you've kind of forgotten about the coat rack.

and how to think properly.

"did you--" you shake your head, looking at satoru, who seems to be upside down. "did you lock the door?"

"of course i did, i'm not a heathen."

but you see him rattle the doorknob, clumsily, and that must satisfy you because you walk out of the hallway, into the living room, which is just as dark as the rest of the house.

it's strange that no one else is home. strange that there's no one to tuck in, no room to peek your head in before you pass out.

"how late is it?" you ask satoru, who's following so closely behind you that you almost fall back into him when you stop.

"dunno."

"is there someone here? i feel like i'm in a horror movie," you turn to satoru, who's squinting around like he'll be able to see something in the dark room. "where are your glasses?"

"dunno," he says, with a grin. and then hiccups again.

you roll your eyes, but grab his hand as you pull him along the house, trailing to one of your rooms--you can't remember which--and forcing yourself to take off your socks before you climb into bed.

it's a good thing that both of the kids are gone because neither of you are exactly quiet as you walk through the house. satoru is tripping every step, and you're holding onto all of the walls trying not to do the same.

seriously, neither of you ever get out.

and, in the blink of an eye, you're in someone's bed--hopefully yours--nuzzling yourself under the blankets. your head is swirling, and you can't see anything, but satoru is there, you think, because you can feel him.

like a buzz on your skin as his hand trails up your arm, and he pulls you into him, probably. it's all fuzzy. and you don't care what he's doing anyway--you trust him, even drunk.

"i'm never drinking again," you mumble as you turn, wiping something off of your face.

satoru laughs. his breath on the side of your cheek makes you blink. "you said that last time, i think."

"i was right."

"lightweight," he teases like he isn't slurring the word.

he's so very close, and yet, you curl your leg around his, trying to get yourself even closer.

satoru doesn't complain as you move, as fast a dream, and then you're lying on top of him.

maybe it's not his bed. maybe he's the comfortable one.

you blink hazily at his smile and press a chaste kiss on his jaw like it's an appropriate thing to do.

you can't think of anything to say, so you just hum into his skin as you settle in. you kinda want to lick him.

"why're you so cold?" he asks you, rubbing your arms.

you don't respond.

being with him is like walking on top of everything else. walking on nothing at all, actually.

his hands wrap around your waist, secure and sure, like he's never hesitated a day in his life. and you think, just for a moment, that you've never been warm like this.

that maybe you've been living in a tundra. maybe that feeling in your core has been frozen for so long, and satoru is the only thing warm enough to defrost it.

but it takes a long time. that hurt, that fear eased in the edges of your soul cannot be cleared out with a single burst of flame.

though satoru is not one single thing.

but, nonetheless, his hands on you, holding you to him, are enough for now.

his eyes--with nothing to stop them from reaching you, like a blindfold or lens--have always been far more than you wanted.

but he's looking at you, so you can't think about any of it.

you want to tell him something, but you’re not sure what. there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out. but it stays hidden, a secret you’re keeping from even yourself.

his eyes are on yours, focused and sure, pupils blown.

you kind of want to laugh at him, because inhibitions make you giddy. and satoru has always been something that excites you.

his face echoes with the memories of two children, two foolish kids who never understood just how good they had it.

have it.

"do you think i'm strong?" satoru asks you, still slurring, and he's joking. he's been quiet for a while, so you don't know where this is coming from. on a normal night, you'd probably be concerned about the question.

but tonight you just giggle against him, tracing the slope of his eyebrow, which makes his face twitch.

with your other hand, you pretend to feel around his arm like you'll find anything but muscle. "hmm," you pinch his bicep, giddy when he flinches from your touch. "i guess. might wanna hit the gym, though."

you think you might die from just the way he's looking at you.

"you're a bad liar," satoru grins at you. he's breathing heavily through his mouth like you've exhausted him.

"so are you," you tell him.

"says who?" he asks, and he's lying to you right now.

"me. remember when you tried to convince me that you painted that portrait in the hallway?"

"i did," satoru swears, but he shakes his head as he says it, looking away.

a bit of reprieve for you, but you still tilt his chin back. you want his eyes.

"see? bad liar."

"i get it from you."

you grin at him, not sure what it means.

"if you died, would you come back to haunt me?" satoru asks you, suddenly. like the question is significant, in some way.

"if i die you'll already be a ghost," you say to him, "because you're dying first."

"no, i'm not."

"do you want me to die?"

he pretends to think about it. "well, no, i guess. but if you did, would you haunt me?"

"definitely. i'd throw things around the house for you to clean up. and mess with your conditioners."

"so you're an evil ghost."

"just a bit of karma for letting me die."

"i'd avenge you," satoru argues.

"i don't want to be avenged," you roll your eyes. "just keep me alive."

"oh, yeah. guess i could do that."

"you guess?"

"i mean... it's a lot of work. i'll have to look at my schedule."

"next time i go on a mission i'm going to come back hurt just to see you freak out. maybe i'll lose a limb. or some brain damage? which is worse?"

satoru, who squirms around a paper cut, gives you a plagued look. "i'm going to tell yaga about the threats you're making."

"like he'd believe you."

"i'll lock you in the basement. you'll never go on another mission again. there, i solved our problem. you never leave the house and i don't have to worry about keeping you alive."

"we don't have a basement."

"oh. right," he frowns. then he blinks, and the smile is back.

"also, i keep you alive every day. you can't return the favor?” you sigh. “i'm being exploited."

he raises a brow.

"who do you think hides all of the sweets?" you ask him. "the kids aren't eating all of those."

"where'd you put my pocky?"

"you'll never know."

"i'll torture you for information. i know where you're ticklish."

you squirm away from his seeking hands, but don't move. you grasp one, stopping him from touching any further than your side. "i'm not scared of the man who won't even remove his hair from the drain after he showers."

satoru makes a face. "but it's all slimy and weird."

"it's your hair! stop making megumi do it."

"i feed him. he can help out."

you have to keep yourself from giggling again, like a foolish girl who’s in love with her best friend.

you roll your eyes and fall flat against him, letting go of his hand, even though it's very soft, and you relax on his chest. there's a moment where satoru settles into this--into you--and then his hands begin to roam the expanse of your back.

"if i was a ghost," satoru whispers, "i would lay on top of you in the morning so you couldn't get out of bed."

"like a sleep paralysis demon?"

"yup."

"dont you already do that?"

he licks his lips. "it'd be scarier if i was invisible."

"can ghosts touch people? i don't think they're tactile."

"i'm not like a normal ghost."

"not like normal anything."

satoru nudges his nose against your forehead in retaliation, but he doesn't argue. it's not like he can, anyway.

"hey," you whisper, after a moment. you're looking up at him, admiring the slopes and concaves of his face at this angle. his eyes almost make his face glow, his own personal light.

"hey."

"do you think the kids are awake right now?"

"no," satoru sighs. "nanami probably put them to bed at six. after feeding them straight broccoli."

"i told him their routine..." you mumble. "i think."

"d'ya think megumi'll haunt us?"

"he'll never die," you tell him, "just out of spite."

"true."

"you can't haunt him, okay?" you say, very seriously, giving him a flat look, which he laughs at. "when you die he deserves some peace."

"no promises."

you poke his chest but have no answer. actually... you're not even really sure what you're talking about. or that it matters.

there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out.

but satoru is still warm. he smells like bitter alcohol and bubblegum.

"hey," you whisper, again, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. you’re not sure what you’re doing.

he is blurry this close, but you can still see all of him. you'd know his face if you went blind, behind a mask. you could black out--you probably will--and he'd still be there.

"hey," he murmurs back. his voice is like a punch to the throat. but his smile is effortless.

"you're pretty," you whisper, as you think it. "and sweaty."

satoru's looking down at you, and his smile stays the same. his breath is on your face, sugary sweet. "so are you."

"i know."

satoru laughs, his knuckles running across your cheekbone. it almost makes you shiver. "pretty," he whispers like it's a joke.

"why're your eyes so blue?"

"wavelengths, or something. didn't you pay attention in school?"

you laugh, shaking your head at him. it's funnier than it should be.

"don't you like my eyes?" he asks, suddenly pouting.

"yeah. they're like a nightlight. 's never dark."

his eyes are probably your favorite thing in the world, you don't say, 'cause you can't think. his eyes are unimaginable, and so close to you.

satoru swallows, shaking his head. "that's all i am to you?"

"and a teddy bear. you're comfy."

satoru hiccups, but holds you closer, smiling against your forehead. "good."

there's a couple of minutes where the two of you bask in the silence. the quiet is a nice break from it all. and you're both so drunk that the usual fears can't seem to make their way in.

not the way they usually doing, plaguing your body. fear is just something that is, right now. nothing to be afraid of.

but, even so, you've never felt so safe. or so sleepy.

and this time, it's satoru who whispers, "hey."

"hey," you say, back. you smile at him. his fingers trace circles on your back. or maybe he's writing something. you can't tell.

it feels nice, though.

"i like you," he says. and you're not sure if he means in general, or here, in his bed with him. maybe it's a question.

it doesn't matter.

"i like you too. hey?"

satoru just hums this time. you can tell that he's about to fall asleep, because his eyelashes flutter shut, and his breathing has begun to even out.

"satoru," you say, again, because you want to see his eyes just one more time before you fall asleep on top of him.

you have to say something. it could be the alcohol, but it might be just you.

"yeah?"

"i think i'm in love with you," you say, and you mean it but it's not what you meant to say. but you're half-asleep, about to drool on his chest, so you can't even contemplate the words.

is it drunk and in love? or drunk on love?

you can't remember.

you could probably kiss him right now. he’s close enough, and you’ve always wanted to. but, even this version of you knows that it would be a bad idea. so you don’t. and you don’t think about what you’ve just admitted.

satoru's smile is vicious, as it begins to blur. you can feel his heart beating against your fingertips. "yeah?" he whispers, and you're not sure why he sounds breathless.

you nod against him.

"me too," he murmurs, and you can't think about what it means. he whispers something else that you don't hear.

because the two of you fall asleep just then, and the words don't really mean anything.

just, you know, everything.

in the morning, your head pounds.

one of you left the blinds open last night, so the sun wakes you up, shining through the trees outside. your mouth is dry, and your throat burns, like you swallowed knives.

and you're still on top of satoru, and you remember exactly how you got there.

he's groaning when you begin to move, holding you closer. and this isn't all that unusual.

but when he opens his eyes, there's a daze in them. some secret he's thinking about as he looks at you.

and you both forget to mention that you remember the night before. and everything that was said.

you probably shouldn't talk about it with a hangover, anyway.

next part | series masterlist

570 notes · View notes

powerfultenderness · 10 months

Note

I am so, so thirsty for neighbor!Konig and I humbly beg you for the following request; reader has secretly been hard core cramming online German lessons, and Konig says some stuff (lewd or otherwise) that she ends up understanding. Maybe she teases him by saying something back to catch him off guard and make him flustered? Idk but I just spent an hour reading all of the series and im heart needs more to survive

I'm so happy that you're enjoying the series! I liked this idea so much! But I ended up changing it a little bit, I hope you don't mind!

Nothing really happens, but König does say something a little horny, so I guess this will be [rated Mature 18+]

“What, are you going back to school?”

You jolted from your studies and looked up just in time to see a friend join you at the table in the break room. You laughed as you greeted her. She was almost right, it certainly felt like you were in school again! Your lunch was pushed to the side, nibbled on, while you were hunched over a notebook and your phone.

She leaned over the table a bit and took a glance at your notes. “Why German?” You sighed, you needed a break anyways, and started to pick at your food. “Just trying to impress the hot neighbor.”

“Ooh, is he German? And how hot are we talking?”

“Austrian,” you answered with another laugh. “And very.” Sort of? Well, even if you had never seen him without some sort of hood or mask on his face, he was still a fine specimen of a man.

“Want me to help you?”

“You know German?”

“I studied German for years in school and spent some time abroad in Berlin.”

You narrowed your eyes and hummed as you tried to translate her words. “You said: I something, German, something something, Berlin.”

Now it was her turn to laugh. “Oh! I know just what to teach you!”

Bzzt!

You picked up your phone and rolled your eyes before sending a quick text.

König didn’t like it. All night you were half paying attention to him and half paying attention to your phone. “Who keeps texting you?” He finally slipped, unable to hold back the slightly envious (ok maybe a lot) question anymore.

“Sorry,” you winced at how rude you were being. “Just a friend from work. She started to help me with a project and thinks she’s sending helpful tips.”

Just a friend from work! It didn’t sound like someone he had to worry about (though he wasn’t sure if you were also attracted to women, and so didn’t completely write off this friend just yet). “But her advice is not helpful?”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Not really. She’s jumping the gun. She’s thinking way too far ahead.”

"Hm. Well, perhaps I can help you?" Anything to get you to pay more attention to him.

"Oh, König," you were about to tell him that it was unnecessary, after all you wanted to surprise him, but your phone buzzed again. "You know what, that would be great." You tucked your phone between the couch cushions as if that would stop your friend from texting you.

"Yea? What can I do?"

You hummed before smiling at him, an idea coming to you. “Can you say something in German?”

“What? How will that help?”

“Well, it wouldn’t really help so much as distract from-” your phone buzzed, a little quieter now between the couch cushions, just on time. You smiled and gestured to your phone, “from that.”

He chuckled and nodded, “alright. But, what do you want me to say?”

“I dunno, something…nice?”

König glanced away from you to the television, whatever was on was long forgotten by both of you, as he thought about what to say. Something nice? He could write a whole book of nice things to say about you. In whatever language you wanted: German, English, maybe even a bit of Korean that he picked up from Horangi. But what to say? That you were one of, if not the, kindest people he’s ever met? That he noticed how you were frightened of him at your first meeting but you pushed that fear aside because of that kindness? Or that he noticed you liked puns, and would seek out the corniest puns just to hear you laugh? No. Maybe he should tell you that you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on? Yea, that was nice, right?

“Hey,” you interrupted his thoughts in a soft voice before you settled a hand on his knee, which he hadn’t even noticed that he was bouncing his knee a mile a minute until you stopped him. “I was just being silly. If you don’t want to-”

“What! No!” He shook his head, “it’s not that.” He paused and looked down at the hand you were still resting gently on his knee, then looked back up at you, eyes shining underneath his hood, and took a deep breath before words began to quickly tumble out of his mouth.

“There is simply too much for me to say, I could not decide! Everything about you is perfect! Even the not perfect things! Ever since you moved here, I have not been able to stop thinking about you! You are on my mind all of the time and I don’t know what I would do without you!” “Whoa! Whoa!” You jerked back at his sudden outburst. “Slow down!”

He shut his mouth so quickly and hard that the snap of his teeth was nearly as loud as the tv.

It was quiet for a moment, the two of you just staring wide eyed at each other, before he started again. “I am sorry! I-” “No! No, I’m sorry. Like I said, I was just being silly and wanted to see if I could understand anything. You know, after hanging out with you so much…”

“Oh…”

Another beat of awkward silence.

“Did you? Understand anything?”

You laughed a little sheepishly. “Uhm. I’m pretty sure I can guess what “perfekt” means, soo,” you looked around, trying to spot something perfect and snapped before looking back at him with a grin. No you hadn’t understood much, but you could lighten the mood with an overly ridiculous answer. “So you must have been talking about…dinner? My stroganoff is great, I mean I wouldn’t say perfect, but-”

He started laughing, dragging you into fits of giggles too, and leaned in a little closer to you, elated that this time you did not pull back.

“So, was all of that actually nice?” You asked once your laughter faded out, though you still smiled up at him.

“Yes. I can only think of nice things to say about you.”

Oh! Nothing could stop the goofy smile that crossed your face, not the butterflies in your stomach, or the way your heart sped up, not even the blush that heated your face. Still you decided to cover up your sudden over acting nerves with a touch of humor. You played up your reaction, one hand over your heart as the other tapped his arm playfully. “Aww, König, you’re so sweet!”

He gently caught your hand, running his thumb softly across your knuckles. “Should I try again?”

“Hm?” “This time I won’t speak so quickly.”

Him holding your hand like that was not going to return your heart rate to normal! Still you smiled at him, a bit shyly, and gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. “Sure.”

“You are very beautiful.” He started, but your soft smile turned into a grin and he paused.

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” You tried to downplay just how intimate this was starting to feel.

“Beautiful,” he corrected as he took his hand from yours and gently held your chin so that you were looking directly into his eyes. “Stunning, actually.” You were especially cute when you looked so flustered like that. He gently traced the bottom of your lip and leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to barely above a husky whisper. “And I want to see these pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

You squeaked out a tiny little gasp and pulled back from just enough for his hand to drop.

König froze. “Did. Did you understand. That?”

“No!” You quickly shook your head, eyes darting all over the place before settling back on him, though you could no longer hold eye contact. “What, uhm. What did you say?”

Oh. You were a bad liar. Good to know. He wished he hadn’t said that. He wished he hadn’t said anything! Maybe he should have never come over in the first place! Why was it so hard to say no to you?

“Nothing!” He abruptly stood up. “I have to go.” He rushed to the door and nearly ran out, but at least stopped himself long enough to wish you a good night before fleeing.

“Ah, König!”

But he was already gone. For a guy that big, he was certainly fast.

“Oh, shit.” You muttered to yourself, heart still loudly pounding in your chest as you dug your phone out from the cushions.

You pulled up your texts and scrolled through the many, many, English to German (or vice versa) raunchy translations your friend had been sending you. Sure enough, between her translations and König’s words fresh in your mind…

“AHHH!!! I THINK HE JUST ASKED ME TO BLOW HIM!!!!” You sent off a text to her and finally remembered to breathe.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

“Lol! Are you sure? What did he say? I’m calling you.”

It’s a whole week before you see König again. And you both awkwardly pretend like your last encounter never happened. And you both desperately wish that it hadn't ended.

[Neighbor König Masterlist]

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be removed or added)

@warrior-of-justice @cumikering @ihateuguys

#anonymous #neighbor!könig #könig x reader #könig x fem reader #konig x reader #i'm getting slower!#so sorry!

1K notes · View notes

beautifuldisaster88 · 3 months

Text

Pairing: Boyfriend!Rafe Kook!Girlfriend

Summary: Rafe has been in a relationship with his best friend, Topper's, younger sister for four years. When Rafe reluctantly decides to agree to letting his girlfriend go to a party with Topper, without Rafe, he makes Topper swear to not let her out of her sight. When Topper doesn't follow through with the promise, Rafe receives a call that he never wanted to receive.

Warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of almost rape, slight mention of violence. I think that's about it. Reader is female, but no mention of Y/N or readers name just the pet names Rafe calls her.

A/N: This is not proofread, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. I wrote this in like 15 minutes, after it randomly came to me... Like half my writing 😂 there's no smut in this. FYI, for this little piece, Rafe is 21 and reader is 18.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Rafe angrily slammed open the door and came barging in, veins popping out and huffing. Topper opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off by Rafe putting his hand up.

"Don't." Rafe seethed, shaking his finger in Topper's face. His jaw clenched and his usual piercing blue eyes were full of rage. "Just tell me where the fuck my girlfriend is!"

"In her bedroom with Sarah. Look man, I fucked up and I'm sorry. I let her out of my sight for like 20 maybe 30 minutes." Topper began, his words only adding fire to Rafe's already burning rage. His mind kept playing back to the phone conversation he'd had earlier with his girlfriend. A call that will forever haunt his mind.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

~Hours Earlier~

Rafe was relaxing on the couch, watching some movie that his girlfriend had been going on about for weeks. Of course, Rafe being Rafe, he just rolled his eyes saying how you couldn't pay him to watch another fucking chick flick. Yet, here he was, home alone, snuggling with his girlfriend's favorite soft and fuzzy black blanket that had little cherries printed on it, loving how it smelled just like his girlfriend.

He'd never admit it, but he was really into the movie, finding himself getting invested in the relationships and friendships and all the drama. The sound of his phone vibrating beside him made Rafe side eye the phone, his brows furrowed together when he saw his girlfriend's face on the screen and her nickname 'Bunny❤️‍🔥'. It's not that he wasn't happy to see her calling because he was.

The problem was, his girlfriend was supposed to be out having fun with her older brother, Topper, who also happened to be Rafe's best friend. Rafe had business to take care of and wouldn't have been able to make it to the party until late, which is why Topper swore he'd keep an eye on her. Rafe told his girlfriend to call him if there was any trouble, and made Topper to promise to bring her back to Tannyhill after the party. Seeing her name on his phone instantly had Rafe regretting to ever agree to let his girlfriend go to a party without him.

"Is everything okay, bunny?" Rafe asked, trying to hide the concern in his voice. His knuckles were already turning white from gripping the side of the couch.

"R-Rafey.." His girlfriend slurred her words on the other end of the phone, sounding completely out of it. "I don't feel good... Make it stop spinning.. c-can't find you.. Rafey..."

"Baby? What did you take and where the hell is Topper!?" Rafe flew up off the couch, pacing back and forth as he ran his hand over his buzz cut out of habit. He was already seeing red, his girl was in trouble and he wasn't there to protect her. Damnit, why the fuck did he agree to letting her go without him!? This is why he doesn't let her go to parties without him. People are fucking irresponsible enough and when you add drugs and alcohol, they become fucking idiots.

"Topper... Dunno... h-he went upstairs with Sarah.. so sleepy, Rafey... J-just gonna take a nap." His girlfriend's words were even more slurred, causing Rafe to panic.

He was out the door in a flash, running to his truck. After jerking the door open and hopping inside, he fumbled trying to get the key in the ignition. "Fuck!" He yelled, hitting the steering wheel before trying again. The engine roared to life and Rafe took off like a bat out of hell, connecting his phone to the Bluetooth.

"Listen to me, baby. I need you to stay awake, yeah. I'm coming for you, just focus on my voice, okay, bunny? I ne-"

Rafe was cut off by the sound of a male's voice and he knew damn well it wasn't Topper's.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Damn, you are really fucked up ain't ya, darlin'. Don't worry I'mma take real good care of you, baby." The male said, making Rafe's blood run cold and then begin to boil. He yelled his girlfriend's name over and over, but got no response. All he heard were her weak calls and begging the guy to get his hands off of her, before the call ended.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Rafe screamed, pounding his fists against the steering wheel.

He had to get to his girlfriend immediately. Shit, he forgot where Topper said the party was at. This could not be happening. Not his girlfriend, anyone but his bunny.

Just as Rafe was about to call Topper, his best friends name popped up on the screen in the middle console of Rafe's truck. Rafe immediately answered it, yelling at Topper.

"You fucking swore you wouldn't let her out of your fucking sight, Top! What the fuck is wrong with you!? Where the fuck are you guys!? I just received the worst fucking call of my life! My girlfriend, your fucking sister, Topper is completely out of it and who the fuck knows what someone slipped her! Wanna hear the worst fucking part!? Some asshole thinks he can take advantage of MY girlfriend! I swear I'm going to fucking kill him!"

"Rafe, look I know, I fucked up and I feel awful. Trust me, man. I've got her, she's with me and Sarah and I'm taking her home. I walked in just in time, that asshole didn't touch her. I-I can't believe I let my baby sister almost get..." Topper couldn't even finish his sentence, feeling the bile threaten to come up.

"I'll deal with you tomorrow. Right now, I need to make sure my girl is okay. I'm on my way to your place." Rafe ended the call, driving as fast as he could towards the Thornton residence.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Rafe took one big step, putting his face in Topper's. "I don't want to hear your fucking excuses! The one fucking time I trust you to keep her safe when I'm not there, and this shit happens! You're lucky I don't fucking kill you, Top. Like I said, I'll deal with you tomorrow. My girl needs me, not you or my fucking sister."

Rafe pushed past Topper, purposely slamming into his shoulder as he ran up the stairs. Opening his girlfriend's bedroom door, he immediately glared at Sarah, clenching his jaw and balling up his fist. "Out." Was all he said, earning a few sorry's from his sister, which made him scoff.

As soon as Sarah left, Rafe locked the bedroom door behind her. His heart wrenched at the sight of his beautiful angel, seeing her smeared mascara from crying. He immediately walked over to the bed and climbed in beside her, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend and pulling her against his chest.

"I'm so sorry that I wasn't there to protect you, bunny. I promise, this shit will never happen again. Tonight was the first and last time you go to a party without me. I've never been as scared as I was tonight. The thought of you being hurt, and another man putting his grimy hands and shit on you... Fuck, I'm never going to forgive myself. I'm sorry, baby. I love you, you know that right?"

She shifted in his arms, turning to face Rafe. Taking one of her small hands, she placed it on the side of his face, her bloodshot eyes staring into Rafe's ocean blue eyes. A soft smile formed on her perfect plump lips. "Hey, look at me." She spoke softly and Rafe looked into her eyes, leaning into her soft and warm touch. "Don't you dare blame yourself. None of this is your fault. Someone must have slipped something into my drink, but Topper found me in time and forced me to throw up. Rafe, I would never blame you. I know that you love me, and I love you. Don't worry, I never want to go anywhere without you again."

Rafe chuckled, feeling a bit more relieved. He placed a kiss on her forehead, then both her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. It was crazy, how his whole world fit perfectly in his arms. Sure, he had everything and lived in a mansion, but if you asked Rafe Cameron where home was to him, he'd answer with the same answer he'd given the last four years... his girlfriend. All the money, the power, everything that Rafe had, none of it meant anything, not if he didn't have her by his side. She was without a doubt, the calm to his storm, a true angel. She was his, and he would always protect her at all costs.

It goes without saying that as soon as Rafe found out who the guy was that tried to take advantage of his girlfriend, went 'missing' two weeks later. Nobody messes with his girl and gets away with it.

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #he's so fucking hot #that should be me #boyfriend material #protective boyfriend #obx #rafe x reader

514 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 8 months

Note

Tim?

Tim did not actually mean to kidnap an alternate reality's version of Kon.

In his defense, he'd had very limited time in that reality and everything in it had been going to shit and . . . well, everything in it had been going to shit.

Also, Lex Luthor had been a lot more heavily involved in that particular reality's Cadmus, and fuck it if Tim was ever going to leave any version of Kon with that bastard.

With any bastard who could ever look at Kon and call him "it".

"Ow," Tim grunts into the dirty pavement of what he hopes is his own Gotham as blood drips out of his mouth, and feels Kon's fingertips brush very, very tentatively against his back. He's a little too dizzy to lift his head, but he figures it doesn't matter. Like it's just . . . it's fine. They're not in Cadmus and Kon is safe and Tim is . . . conscious, at least, which means he can work with the situation.

Whatever the situation actually is, anyway.

Kon's hands flatten against his back, which is a very familiar tell, and Tim immediately feels the even more familiar embrace of TTK wrapping him up.

Less familiar is the impulse to find said embrace adorable, but in Tim's defense, this Kon is physiologically about ten years old and so far every single thing he's done has been either adorable or heartbreaking or some terrible combination of the two.

"Robin?" Kon asks anxiously. "You're okay, right?"

"M'okay," Tim mumbles blurrily, because it's more or less true. More blood drips out of his mouth and splatters on the pavement. "All okay. S'fine. You hurt?"

"No," Kon says, still sounding nervous. "Dunno where we are, though."

"Should be Gotham," Tim says, forcing himself to lift his head enough to check and nearly laughing as he recognizes their surroundings as the exact part of Crime Alley that he got interdimensionally yanked out of seventy-six hours ago. "Yeah. Gotham."

He pushes himself up enough to look over at Kon. Kon looks very small crouched down next to him with buzzed-down hair, barefoot in pristine white lab scrubs with a shiny metal cuff stamped with an identification number locked around his wrist. "13" features prominently on it.

Tim wants to melt it into slag.

"Is it your Gotham?" Kon asks.

"No clue, but I'm hoping," Tim says. He thinks about getting to his feet but he's pretty sure he'd throw up if he tried. Or fall over. Or both?

Probably both, at this point.

Oh well, he figures, and pushes himself up. He doesn't vomit, surprisingly, although he is very definitely sure that Kon's TTK is the only thing keeping him from falling over.

No reason to look that particular gift horse in the mouth, Tim decides.

"I need coffee," he says as he gives Kon's shoulder an appreciative pat, because the caffeine withdrawal is real. Also he needs medical attention, probably, but also-also he needs to come up with either a cover story for the ER or an explanation for Bruce and therefore caffeine can't hurt.

"Uh, okay," Kon says skeptically. "I don't think Starbucks or anything is gonna be open right now, though, it's pretty late."

"God, what did Cadmus teach you, kid," Tim says despairingly, making a face at the thought. "Starbucks is a punishment from God. We're going to the nearest twenty-four diner and I'm ordering roofing tar. And we're getting you a hot chocolate. Do you want a hot chocolate?"

". . . yeah," Kon says, biting his lip. "Um. I mean, I dunno if I'd like it, though."

"If you don't like it, we'll get you something else," Tim says. "But I haven't slept or eaten properly since I left my reality and I need coffee before it becomes a legitimate medical emergency."

"Shouldn't you get, like, real food, then?" Kon asks skeptically. "Not just coffee?"

"Coffee is food," Tim lies reflexively.

". . . I don't think it is," Kon says, squinting up at him suspiciously. "Are you taking advantage of me being too stupid to know if coffee's food or not?"

". . . we can get something to go," Tim says, wishing he'd blown up a bit more of Cadmus on his way out of that fucking cesspool of a reality. "You're not stupid. Luthor can choke on a fucking cactus for all the shit he kept saying to you."

"I mean, I didn't come out right," Kon says uncomfortably. "I'm not as smart as Dadd–as Lex is. Or as Superman was."

Tim pretends that Kon wasn't about to say "Daddy" for both their sakes. Just . . . yeah. At least for the moment, anyway.

Luthor was a lot more heavily involved in that Cadmus.

And horrifyingly.

Tim tries not to think about the way that Luthor had kept touching Kon. All the little too-deliberate points of contact he'd made time and again and too often.

Much too often.

Tim hadn't seen anyone else even so much as enter Kon's personal space the entire time he'd been in that godforsaken lab, and every single time that Luthor had made a gesture like he might touch him, Kon had tensed in something that couldn't decide between being fear or anticipation.

It'd made Tim want to burn the whole fucking lab and every single LexCorp-owned building he could find to the ground.

He'd settled for interdimensionally kidnapping Kon and destroying all of Cadmus's systems and DNA samples as thoroughly as possible. C-4 had been involved.

A lot of C-4 had been involved.

Possibly that had been a slight overreaction, but fuck if Tim cares. Just–Clark had still been dead, and Cassie hadn't had powers and Bart hadn't been in the time period and Tim himself hadn't even existed, for whatever reason, and apparently neither had Cissie or Greta or Anita or Slobo, and Bruce had already had his hands full with Damian and Dick had been off-planet and Jason had also still been dead and just–

Options had been limited, alright?

Options had been limited, and by that point Tim hadn't had time to go check and see what the Kents were up to or track down Lois Lane or Jimmy Olsen or even just tip off the Justice League or the Titans, because by that point he'd been in an examination room with a Lex Luthor who was stroking a frightened Kon's face with one hand while holding a syringe that was glowing kryptonite-green with the other and Tim had just . . . he'd just made some choices at that point, okay?

He'd made some very decisive choices.

And some very decisive commitments.

Or at least one very decisive commitment, anyway.

#dc robin #tim drake #superboy #kon el #conner kent #rinfic #anonymous #long post #implied molestation #implied abuse #wip: interdimensional kidnapping via robin

803 notes · View notes

beatrixstonehill2 · 2 months

Text

"Damn, what the hell fertility drugs did that doctor put you on?" Marissa's husband, Tom, asked.

"I dunno." She smiled big, shrugging. "But I think I love it..... Just look at this belly, I'm so huge!"

"I know..... I'm just in awe. You pushed out sextuplets last time and he still upped your dose?"

"Yep! He said he wasn't happy with how many I was having. That a fertile young woman like me should be carrying at least a dozen at a time....."

"Wait, a dozen? Babe, you can't be serious."

Marissa giggled. "What? Are you surprised? Tom, I'm only four months along. What did you think was happening? I bet I'm carrying even more...."

"Holy shit, you're gonna be immobile by the six month mark. Your belly will be bigger than that yoga ball of yours!"

"I know..... isn't that so hot? I'll be totally helpless..... Not even when I was carrying sextuplets was I that helpless. Sure, I needed you to push me in a wheelchair, which was fun. I loved explaining to people around town that I was too pregnant to walk. Everyone loved it, although a lot were bummed when I told them you didn't have me paralyzed from the shoulders down finally, since that's such a popular thing for husbands to do......"

"Hey don't tempt me. Your doctor keeps asking me if I want it. But you'll already be helpless enough, I think."

"Who knows! It could help spice up our marriage a bit! You'll already be so used to caring for me. Are you even going to bother clothing me before you show me off to the neighborhood?"

"I wasn't exactly planning on it...."

"Mmmmm, I'll bet. I just love having you take care of me, I can't believe how independent and against being a traditional wife and mother I used to be."

"When we met you had a buzzed head, hated the idea of kids, and you were even thinking of transitioning into a guy."

"I was so naïve about what a simpleminded breeder I wanted to really be. Totally in denial..... Thankfully after you knocked me up I came to my senses..... Now I'm starting to think twelve or thirteen kids might be too easy for this womb of mine. I think I can carry way more."

"I dunno, might hurt a lot to get that big, I might have to make a call and get that spine snipped..... you'd look so cute totally helpless, unable to move or feel a thing except your head. Then you'd really just be a big over-inflated womb and nothing more."

"I'm starting to like the sound of it more by the day..... My body will 100% be devoted to you, yours to do with as you please all day, every day. And the only thing I can do is watch you enjoy yourself..... OK. Do it! Call the doctor tomorrow morning! This'll be soooo much fun!"

Tom took out his cellphone. "Why wait til tomorrow? I'll just claim it's an emergency and you're in a lot of pain....."

"Just promise me one thing."

"OK?"

"While we wait for the ambulance please fuck my brains out so I can feel your cock in me one more time! I'll miss cumming so much.... But I want to show you I really mean it. I'm only a womb, and I'll be yours. This is the best way to prove I belong to you and you alone. ❤️"

#breeding k1nk #preggophilia #huge pregnant belly #pregnant kink #body modification kink

372 notes · View notes

arctrooper69 · 2 months

Text

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 4:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Mentions of sexual and romantic attraction. Jealousy. Confusing feelings.

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

Hunter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His initial desperation and anger dissipated into a confused silence.

Was he letting his personal feelings cloud his judgment? Were you really, truly fine and he’d just driven you to anger with his incessant worry?

Maybe it was him who’d changed, projecting onto you the frustration of feelings he didn’t understand.

Am I making this all up?

“Hunter?” Omega slid down the ladder from her room, her small face lined with concern.

Kriff. She'd seen the whole thing.

He turned to face her. “What's up, kid?”

“Is she okay?” Omega looked past the ramp where you'd gone out only seconds ago.

“I… I'm not sure, Omega. She said it's fine though. I trust her.”

She didn't look convinced. “I dunno… She looked really mad. And really sad.”

Hunter shrugged. “She said everything was fine.” He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more - Omega or himself.

Omega sighed, putting a hand on his arm. “Don’t be dumb, Hunter. It isn’t remotely fine! She is definitely not ok. She's mad!”

Hunter sighed. He knew she was right. He could read her body language and it did not match her words. Guilt twisted and churned through his guts like seasickness.

“How do you know that?”

Omega shrugged. “I read it on the holonet! Tech had some sites up on his datapad when I borrowed it. Sometimes if a woman says she’s fine, it means she's actually really not fine.” Omega paused and scratched her arm. Her nose wrinkled in confusion. “I mean, I don't really get it, but that's what it said. Though, I don't understand why you'd say one thing but mean the exact opposite.”

Hunter's expression mirrored her own. “Yeah. I'm not really sure either, kid. All I know is things were definitely a lot easier when we were just blowing up Seps.”

And apparently I need to talk to Tech about leaving his datapad lying about. He made a mental note to himself. The last thing he needed was Omega accidentally coming across something she definitely shouldn’t be seeing at her age.

He stood for a moment as Omega grabbed her trooper doll and Lula, carrying them back up the ladder to her room. Wracking his brain, he tried to think of something - anything he might’ve done wrong to upset their companion.

Hunter sighed, sitting heavily in the cockpit chair as Tech worked silently beneath the console.

“What am I supposed to do, Tech?” He hit the wall beside him with a fist, the loud clang earning a scowl from Tech as he poked his head out from under the console.

“What are you talking about? And please don’t hit my ship, I just fixed that panel.”

Hunter drew his arm back, resting it on the armrest instead. “Sorry,” he said glumly.

“It’s fine,” Tech grunted, grabbing another tool before sliding back beneath the console.

“I just don’t know what to do about her!”

“Who? Omega?” Tech’s voice was muffled, nearly drowned out by the sudden buzz of a plasma tool.

“No, not Omega.” Hunter rolled his eyes. His brother could be so oblivious sometimes.

“Ah,” Tech slid out from his workstation again. “Well, what about her?”

Hunter folded his arms across his chest. “She’s just been acting so weird lately.”

“Weird how?” Tech grabbed another tool.

Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know. She leaves the room whenever I walk in. Lately she only ever talks to me when it’s about a job and then it’s only a ‘yes sir’ or a ‘you got it Sarge.’”

“I fail to see how that is a problem.”

Hunter grunted, “It just isn’t her. She isn’t acting like herself.”

“And you’re concerned that this change in behavior will affect her field performance?”

“I…” Hunter hesitated, “Well yeah, but not just that. It’s just…” Hunter paused again, trying to find the words. “It’s just that we’re a team. All of us. I thought if there was something wrong, she’d come talk to me like she used to.”

The whir of a hydrospanner filled the silence before Tech spoke again. “Did you ask her to explain her actions?”

“Yeah. Or at least I tried to but she just said she was fine.”

“But you do not think she’s telling the truth?”

Hunter shrugged. “I was gonna let it go but Omega overheard us and basically yelled at me that saying ‘I’m fine’ means she isn’t actually fine.”

“That seems counterintuitive.” Tech frowned.

Hunter shook his head looking perplexed. “Maybe it’s one of those woman things?”

“Hmm, mood swings and irritability are both symptoms of a woman’s menstrual cycle.”

Hunter scoffed, “Where did you read that?”

Tech poked his head out from beneath the console. “The holonet. I figured that I should do some research on the physiology of the opposite sex since we now have two of them aboard the ship and our education on Kamino was less than sufficient on the subject.”

“We didn’t get any education on that subject.”

“Precisely.”

“I guess that probably was a smart thing to do.”

Tech rolled his eyes, “Of course it was. Did you expect any less?”

Hunter smirked. “I guess not.” His smile faded as he ran a hand down his face. “Did your research tell you what I’m supposed to do with her?”

“Many of the articles on the subject recommended using a heating pack or massage therapy for her physical discomfort. Some suggested that bringing her food - specifically chocolate - may improve irritability.”

Hunter thought for a moment. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.” He sighed, “I just don’t want to lose her.”

Tech sat his hydrospanner down and adjusted his goggles. “Indeed. She is a useful asset.”

“Yeah, she is but - “ The sound of soft footsteps interrupted him. He groaned, getting up from his seat. Omega was supposed to have gone back to bed. “Omega?”

When there was no reply, he sat down again shaking his head. “That kid’s something else.”

“Yes. She does have a tendency to disregard orders. Much like us.”

“Yeah.” Hunter rested his chin on his fist.

Tech stood up, brushing dust off of his pants. He looked at his brother.

“You are still thinking about her?”

Hunter groaned again. “I just don't know what to do anymore, Tech! She's not just a member of the team to me! When that shot blew the landing gear the other day, I was terrified that she'd been injured! I find myself thinking about her all the time. She can fight like hell, she's pretty, and smart. I just don't want her to walk away if there's something I could've done!”

“You mean to say that you are experiencing romantic feelings towards her?”

“Definitely not.” Hunter stated defensively. “We’re clones. That’s not in the cards for us.”

Tech raised an eyebrow. “The war is over and we are no longer soldiers of the Republic. Therefore, their rules and regulations no longer apply.” He frowned, “And besides, since when have we ever done as we’re told?”

Hunter was silent. As much as he hated to admit it, Tech did have a point.

Tech frowned in concentration, scrolling through his datapad. “Do you experience an elevated heart rate when in her presence?”

“I guess?”

“Do you value her thoughts and opinions?”

“Of course I do!”

“Do you find yourself wanting to be close to her physically and/or emotionally?”

“...Yes,” Hunter felt almost reluctant to answer.

Tech looked up with a smirk, “Well, then according to this and several other sources, you have in fact, fallen in love.”

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

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @the-rain-on-kamino @jiabae @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rogue @southernbaguette @staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo @dangraccoon @aconstructofamind @sev-on-kamino @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @atomickidsoul @caitnotfound @ghostlyembassy @skellymom @freesia-writes @trixie2023 @jedipoodoo @reader6898 @all-mights-babygirl @arcsimper5 @red-robin-yum08 @wintersnnowie @whore-of-many-hot-men @theeyesofasoldier @griffedeloup @starswhores @totallyunidentified @waytoooldforthis78

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

228 notes · View notes

frvnkcastles · 4 months

Note

hello my love!!! i was wondering if i could request a fic with a reader who finds it hard to accept affection (even though she loves and craves it), especially in public getting super embarrassed and thinking everyone is staring and judging because why would someone like FRANK be with someone like them??? but frank is just determined at all times to show how much he cares and knows to respect boundaries but also how to push back a little and open the reader up to accepting open affection more. idk if that makes sense? i'm sorry if it doesn't

WITH MY TUNNEL VISION ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You struggle with affection, but Frank is determined to give it to you.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, anxiety, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: I loved this request so much and I was so worried about not doing it justice, but I tried my best!! I hope you like it :)

Even months after you and Frank had more or less officially started dating, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. He saw himself as someone damaged and broken, but you thought he was the greatest man you had ever gotten to know, and admired him from inside out. He was caring and protective and no doubt easy on the eyes — and most days, you appreciated that wholeheartedly. Some days, you felt insecure. Full of doubt and wonder that he would choose to be with you, and that only heightened whenever you were out in public together.

So, when Curtis and his girlfriend invited you and Frank to a bar for a night out, you were stressed to say the least. You felt completely out of place, like you had no business being by Frank’s side, his arm casually over your shoulders as he laughed at whatever Curtis had just said.

”You okay?” Frank’s deep voice cut through the buzz in your head, and when he ducked down to brush his lips against your forehead, you instinctively dodged — and in an instant, guilt rushed into your system and you could physically feel the air getting awkward. ”Hey, what’s wrong?” Frank added with a frown, unsure where the hesitation was coming from. You had been fine before going out, not a single sign of being mad at him to be seen, and his kisses well-received.

”I’m gonna get another drink”, you evaded the question, and as you turned for the bar, you could feel their eyes on you. That was the feeling you had wanted to avoid — like you were being watched and judged, and here it was, anyway.

You weren’t by yourself for very long. As soon as you were seated by the bar, Frank was following and leaning against the counter to catch your wandering eyes. ”Sweetheart”, he grunted, tilting his head to meet your gaze, ”talk to me.”

Inhaling sharply, you glanced at him before returning your eyes to the bartender mixing your drink. ”You know what’s wrong”, you insisted, but when Frank just stared back at you, you sighed. ”It’s the… affection. Feels weird in public”, you explained further, and with realization dawning on his face, he slowly nodded.

Hell, he hadn’t been the most touchy person, either. But something about you had made it feel safe and secure again, like it was okay for him to be happy and show that to everyone else.

”Baby… ’m sorry, I… shit, yeah, I do remember you mentionin’ that”, he cleared his throat, watching you closely and aching to touch you. ”How come you don’t like it?” Frank wondered with a tone of sincerity, not trying to push your buttons but to understand you better — and as much as you wanted to be frustrated, you understood that.

”I dunno”, you shrugged, but you already knew he wasn’t going to take that for an answer. ”I guess I just feel like people will stare. And—and judge me”, you went on, and with an incredulous chuckle, Frank knitted his eyebrows together.

”Judge you?” he repeated with confusion, and nodding, you drew a generous sip from your drink.

”Yeah, you know, just… you’re… you. And I’m just me. And why would you choose to be with me, right? Everyone can see it. You could do so much better and I swear, if people see you kissing me, they’ll just wonder what you’re doing with me, wasting your time on me”, you rambled, and by the end of your rant, you were flustered and looking around to make sure you hadn’t been too loud. Even now, with Frank only inches away from you, you were sure eyes were on you.

Frank processed your words for a moment. ”Hey, you know that’s total bullshit, right?” he spoke finally, giving you a grave look, his curious smile long gone. ”If anything, people will wonder what a stunner like you is doing with an ugly mug like mine. And even if that were the case, I don’t really fuckin’ care what other people think. You’re my girl, and no one else matters”, he defended you, seething at the mere idea of someone looking at you wrong.

”Did ya see someone starin’? ’Cause you know I’ll fight ’em”, he changed his tone suddenly, glancing around to pinpoint any lurkers, but you quickly placed a calming hand on his forearm.

”I didn’t. It’s just my anxieties, that’s all”, you sighed in defeat, and taking in a breath, Frank turned back to you and nodded.

”And you know it’s all lies, right? Just your head tryna mess with my girl”, he pointed out, and as much as you wanted to justify your fears somehow, you couldn’t help but admit he was right.

”So, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna agree on a safeword that you can use if it gets too much. Until you say it, I’mma dote on you ’til you’re spoiled rotten, ’cause I wanna show you how much I goddamn admire you and I don’t really care who’s around to see”, he proposed, and with a smile curving your lips back up, you stared at him in disbelief — here he was proving yet again that he was everything.

”Deal.”

You tried your very best to tolerate the public displays of affection, because truthfully, you wanted them. You craved his touch and his attention, and behind closed doors, you were hungry for it. So you tried to extend the same courtesy out and about, pushing your own limits because deep down you knew he was right about other people not mattering.

And the greatest part was seeing how happy Frank was. You were the first serious relationship he had found himself in since Maria and it had taken him a long time to relearn how to be in one. But slowly, he had unraveled what worked for him and you, and discovered that he really, really wanted to show his girl off.

So whenever you were out, he made sure to hold your hand or have his arm around your shoulders. Every now and then he would lean in to kiss your forehead or cheek, sometimes even lips, and you were learning how to lean in instead of pull away.

A month later you were back at the same bar with Curt and his girlfriend, on a night when it was especially busy. Frank could tell you were nervous, but trusting in the progress you had made together, he kept you close to him.

”So, things are good?” Curtis queried while Frank was getting you a new drink, and with a beaming smile, you nodded.

”Things are great. He makes me really happy”, you chuckled sheepishly, and just in time, Frank appeared from behind you, handing over your drink.

”Who’s the lucky guy?” he grinned, and softly nudging him, you snorted.

And then, as if it was the most natural thing, you thanked him for the drink by giving him a kiss, and as soon as your lips left his, you could see the amazed stare in his eyes. Immediately, you realized what you had done, and you opened your mouth to say something, but panic washed over you and you were rendered speechless.

”No, no, baby, it’s okay. You did good. You did perfectly”, Frank breathed out, his eyes full of love as he leaned down to cup your cheeks and kiss your nose and jaw and forehead. ”No one’s lookin’, I promise. It’s just you and me, right?” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

You caught your breathing and managed a nod, and when you glanced at Curtis and found him preoccupied with his girlfriend, relief washed over you. ”Yeah, it’s okay”, you swallowed when you looked around, confirming that truly, no one cared. No one was judging.

”Love you”, Frank spoke quietly before leaving a kiss right next to your ear, and squeezing his hand, you dropped your head on his shoulder.

”Love you.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

292 notes · View notes

mintmatcha · 5 months

Text

cw: implied mental illness/substance abuse references

Denki jams his tongue into his cheek as he types, folding his gum in half before popping it between his teeth. The action is repeated: squish, snap, squish, snap-- unmuted by his open mouth. The waves and all their static do nothing to cover the sound of it; the sand was abandoned long before sunset, but the ocean is never quiet.

Suddenly, Denki sits up, looking to you as if he just remembered you exist.

"Shit, you hate that sound, don't you?" He swallows hard and you know the piece of gum is gone, "My bad."

"It's okay."

"I'm just really trying to quit smoking."

"I know."

He stares at you for a long while, then sighs. He drags his finger through the sand, peeling away layers of dry to reveal the darker, wet below. Weight has filled out his cheeks and middle in ways that you know he hates, but it looks so much healthier than he's even been.

"Everyone hated when I smelled like cigarettes apparently," Denki says, trying to laugh, "It sucks that no one told me that I stunk all the time."

Everyone is code for the girl he keeps texting, one one that lights his screen up with pretty pink hearts and messages that make his eyes glimmer. She texts again, a soft yet unrelenting force.

"I liked it." The horizon is dotted with lights, blinking against the surf. They follow their own pattern, blinking arrhythmically with each other against the surf, "It just smelled like you to me."

"Do you..." Denki rubs the back of his neck, "I dunno, do you really miss all that?"

All that includes too much. The peaks, the lows. Before his medications were balanced and before he quit partying, when neither of you had any control over your lives.

"No," you say, and you mean it, "But I miss knowing things about you."

"You know me." Denki's phone buzzes again, "I'm still me."

"I know."

"I'm still your Kaminari."

"I know."

He isn't. He no longer stops for a pack of cigarettes and a row of Hi-Chew every night. He no longer responds to your texts or reaches out first. It's been months since he last passed out on your bathroom floor, months since he asked you if you were alright.

His hair is shorter than he's ever liked it.

A horn goes off in the distance: a ship rolling into port.

"I don't know what to do with you," Denki sighs, "Did you not want me to get better? Because it feels like you didn't want me to."

He waits only a second for you before sighing again.

"Why did you ask me to come here?"

Because you missed him. Because you need a friend. Because you've always come when he's called.

All you even wanted was for him to be okay.

"I just didn't think getting better would mean I'd lose you."

"You didn't-" His phone goes off again, humming and buzzing harder. He scrambles to pick it up, pushing on to his feet. "Fuck, I really gotta take this."

"It's fine."

"I'll be right back."

"It's fine."

He answers and calls her baby with all the warmth and welcome he used to have for you. She's the one he goes to when the waters are calm and life is easy. You are the port in a storm, the one holding an umbrella until the rain passes.

You leave your sneakers there and walk the shore, the lace foam clinging to your socks and salt licking at your jeans. After fifteen minutes, he calls you once. You wait for a text or second try, but it doesn't come.

When you cry, it's from the bottom of the gut, ripping up like bile. The sound is swallowed by the sea.

220 notes · View notes

blackfliesinbluesugar · 3 months

Text

I really don't understand why the show is paced like this, I just don't? Even if they were told at production they would ONLY have 8 episodes, low chance of a s2, that this was all they'd get - I dunno, how is sucking all of the fun and investment out of your plot the best solution outside of, like, writing what you reasonably can and then maybe trying for a comic book or something? Again, I know that's shit feeling, I know it'd suck, I know it'd hurt. But again, even if this is the only medium you WANT to tell your story in, how is telling it BADLY the answer? It's crashing 50k words of fic into a list of bulletpoints.

I don't care about any of these characters. Not because I'm some spurned anti or someone who went in ready to hate - I've fandomed this show since June 2019. I've been obsessed with these characters and world. I have written nearly half a million words of fanfiction for these guys, including all of the background characters they keep giving love like Molly and Mimzy and Rosie. But that's all fanon, and I know how to seperate that in my brain. Which means I love the idea of these characters - I'm thrilled to see even the little cameos, It feels like fanservice in a way that makes me buzz with energy - but I don't love the characters. In canon, I don't care about Alastor, or Husk, or Charlie. I actively feel disinterest in ones like Camille and Vaggie and Adam. They have no depth, only gesturing at interesting ideas and trauma. Angel, I'm STARTING to care about, but they only gave him a real personality AFTER dropping all of his trauma on us. So great. It's discord group chats all over again.

Just.. why. Is doing 3 seasons worth in 1 season really worth it? Is it, frankly, better than nothing at all? I cared more about these guys when I had the privelege of assuming they'd have deep developed arcs and connections, that the hotel denizens would get a chance to bond and interact and flesh themselves out. Now they're pretty png's standing vaguely near each other, occasionally breaking into song or crying about their past. Big whoop.

I wish s1 had developed the hotel solely - no Velvette, no Camille, no Zestial, no Mimzy, no Sera or Emily or Lucifer or Lilith, and then saved that stuff for s2 when we CARE about our protagonists and can afford to care about other characters, instead of all of them being 'cool, I guess'

I'm sad. I'm really sad. I waited over 4 years for a slideshow.

#hazbin hotel #not hate #not salt #charlie morninstar #alastor #vaggie #angel dust #husk #niffty #sir pentious #cherri bomb #huskerdust #charlastor

146 notes · View notes

likedovesinthewindd · 11 months

Note

Can you write something for fezco where he takes his anger out on his girlfriend(reader) maybe angst with a happy ending:-)

this has been in my inbox for a while I'm so sorry love

fezco x fem!reader

warning: police raids, disposing of drugs, language.

wc: ±1040

a/n: this takes place in season 1 when nate calls the cops and fez and his house gets raided. not proofread.

You didn't know what time it was, or what the fuck was even happening. All you could focus on was Fez's shouting and the incessant banging on the front door, your hands shaking as you struggled to get the pill bottles opened and flushed down the toilet.

"Shit, hurry up," you heard him shouting as you threw the thousandth bottle down the bowl. "I'm trying," you heaved, the cops' shouting and banging increasing by the second. It felt like forever before you managed to get the last of his stash flushed, getting rid of the hundreds of bottles and watching as the swarm of cops threw the place upside down.

By some universal luck, they didn't find anything, and left, leaving the house a complete mess. You looked over to the clock hanging in the living room to see what the time was; 4:47 AM. You sighed, looking around the room till your eyes met Fez's, who looked like he was on the verge of popping a vein. It was an unnerving sight from someone who's usually so reserved.

"Who the fuck called the cops on you?" you asked, your socked feet padding around the living room, trying to avoid any broken glass. "I dunno," was all he said, running both his hands over his buzzed hair. You quietly made your way to Fez's room, trying to find your phone in the mess left behind.

You searched through the clothes and sheets thrown onto the floor, and managed to get some part of the floor visible when you found one of the framed photos in his room, broken, the small pieces of glass shattered throughout the floor.

You had been the one who placed the photo there; it was a picture of Fez and you—one of few he agreed upon—that you decided to frame and put in his room to give the dull atmosphere some life. You sighed, thinking about how much you're gonna have to clean up and all the broken things that needed replacement.

You heard Fez's heavy footsteps and turned to find him joining you in the room, Ash quietly moving into his own room. "Look at this," you said, carefully picking the photo and wooden frame from the glass and showing it to him.

"It really ain't the worst of our problem right now, ma," he said, voice tired as he sat down on the bed, his back to you. You frowned at his dismissive tone; obviously it wasn't, you knew that much. "I know it's not," you started, "I'm just showing you how they trashed the placed."

"You think I didn't notice that?" he asked, and you scoffed, standing up to move around the bed so that you could face him. "Why are you acting like this is my fault?" you asked. "We just flushed thousands of dollars down the drain, and you talkin 'bout a fuckin photo frame," he said and your mouth dropped in shock. "Are you serious right now?" you asked and he looked up at you. "You're giving me a fuckin headache man," he said, dropping his head in his hands.

You didn't say anything, instead leaving him by the bed as you started looking for a bag. When you found your overnight bag, you hastily started digging through the heaps of clothes for the few pieces you had.

Fez could hear you moving around the room, and when he lifted his head from his hands, he could see you frantically packing. "Where you going?" he asked, but you ignored him, moving to the bathroom to get your toothbrush. He stood up from the bed, following you to the bathroom. "Yo, I'm serious, what the fuck are you doing?" he asked grabbing at your shoulder when you moved pass him once again. You yanked your shoulder free, moving back to his room. "Baby—" he started but you interrupted him.

"I just helped keep your ass out of jail, and now you're making me feel like I'm a nuisance," you said zipping up your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. "I know you just lost a shit ton of money but I was only trying to help, you don't get to take your shit out on me." You left the room, making sure you had your car keys as you made it to the front door.

"Baby, it's fucking five in the morning, where are you going?" you asked. "My sister's," you said flatly before making your way out the door and to your car.

✮☆★✮

It's been days since your argument with Fez and he'd been calling you nonstop, blowing up your phone with apologetic messages. You hadn't responded to any of them; you'll admit that was a bit petty of you, but you were still angry at him. For the way he acted, considering you helped him stay out of jail. You understood he was under a lot of pressure, but he had no reason nor right to take it out on you.

You were watching TV in your sister's living room when she called you from outside, where she had been watering her garden.

"Your boyfriend's here," she said gesturing towards the driveway when you made your way outside. When you saw Fez standing by his car, your first thought was to go back inside, but you could only avoid something for so long. You made your way up the driveway slowly, stopping once you reached his car.

"Hey," you said softly, pulling at your jersey as the cold morning air bit your skin. "You alright, ma?" he asked, and you shrugged. "Listen," he started, "I'm sorry for acting like a bitch, you didn't deserve that." You looked up at him from where you were staring at your feet. "You were acting like a bitch," you added, once again looking away. "I know," he agreed, "and I wanna make up for that. I miss you."

You tried not to show how giddy his words made you, nodding silently as you toed at the grass beneath your shoes. "Y'know I miss you baby, house is quiet without you," he added into the silence. You gave him another look, before smiling reluctantly. "Miss you too," you said quietly. "Yeah?" he asked, and you nodded. "Then let's go home, ma"

#fez x reader #fezco x y/n #fezco fanfic #fezco euphoria #fez euphoria #fezco fluff #fez x y/n #fez fanfic #euphoria fic #fezco x reader #likedovesinthewindd

703 notes · View notes

disaster-racing · 6 months

Text

I don't usually do text posts, but I just have to ask - has anyone else noticed something strange with the Screaming Meals streams recently? James and Clem have been making some weird comments about Marcus, and they sound... a bit worrying? So I went back to their previous streams to check, and here what they said:

Qatar quali stream:

C: "We're trying, you know, to really promote this channel… trying to make it grow, got no idea what we're doing. And Marcus Armstrong doesn't wanna help us." J: "Yeah. To be fair, he doesn't have a say these days in what goes on his Instagram." C: "Does he not? Oh! That's true, I forgot about that. That is true."

C: "So, so, can you… is that the real reason, the fact that you haven't got enough devices, that you're not listening to our stream, or is it sort of censored in the household, per se?" M: "Yeah, the US has actually censored Screaming Meals, umm…" C: "Oh, see, I didn't think it would have been–" J: "Sort of a North Korea situation, is it?" C: (laughs) M: (laughs) "For obvious reasons, mate, for obvious reasons." C: "Yeah, doesn't seem to be the US, but err…"

J: (talking to Marcus) "I don't know about you but the last time I checked my bank account, fuck me, there was some… there's gotta be some numbers missing, but…" C: (closes eyes, laughing)

Qatar sprint stream:

J: "Marcus gets to the UK sometime in November so we'll definitely be filming some stuff in November, as long as he's allowed to. Um, then you can get some more pods."

Qatar race stream:

J: "Marcus says please call a bit later than lap 15, with an x." C: "What a loser! Just always skiving off work." J: "Yeah, why, like… I dunno, he's probably getting screamed at or something, I dunno." C: "Marcus is? Yeah… well, he has been under quite a lot of pressure hasn't he, recently." J: "Yeah… " … C: "No, he hasn't lost control of his downstairs. He has lost control of his credit card, though." J: "He certainly has lost control of his credit card. Anyway!"

C: "Marcus joining us as well for a short trip [in Brasil]. Interesting." J: "Yeah apparently we're not allowed to talk about that." C: "No, we're not. Good times."

J: "Shall we give Marcus another go?" C: "Nah." J: "Fair enough." C: "He was being his usual 'I'm too cool for you guys'…" J: "He was being a bit, wasn't he. He's probably on another sanction from speaking to us." C: "I think so yeah. Must be one of those sanctions."

Mexico race stream:

J: "I'm gonna give Armstrong a buzz." C: "No chance he answers." J: "I believe he's due to fly out 9pm Mexico time." C: "He'll be under heavy control. …has your number not been placed on the 'banned' list?" J: "Ah, no, this is a burner." C: "Oh, mine has. Mine has." […] C: "Quite a lot of restrictions to get in contact with Armstrong these days."

Q&A stream:

(talking about what they would buy if they had to spend £1million on each other) J: "Then for Armstrong… ummm, I'd, I dunno, I'd probably just help him pay off his credit card debts." C: "True! Paying off his credit card debts would be something. Definitely."

C: "Look, we've got Loraine with the hashtag Free Marcus." J: (snorts) "No comment."

And when Marcus was on the sprint race stream last night, he seemed a bit tired and low energy, quite different to how he was on the streams earlier in the year. Maybe I'm just overreacting, but I really hope he's okay and some of the things they've said aren't as concerning as they sound...

#marcus armstrong #clement novalak #screaming meals #james harvey blair

208 notes · View notes

ckret2 · 8 months

Text

Chapter 14 of Human Bill Is A Prisoner And Only Mabel Is Being Nice To Him (real title TBD), and the conclusion of the first big plot arc:

Also featuring: what Pacifica has been up to the past year! Dipper and Mabel arguing about Bill! The hand witch, briefly! Funny pranks that Ford does not think are funny! And other things.

####

Dipper and Mabel waved goodbye as they left the Hand Witch's cave. The witch, her boyfriend, and Mabel's spare right hand on the witch's shoulder waved back.

"Thanks for helping us out on such short notice," Dipper said.

"Oh, any time!" the witch said. "Come back whenever you like! I'll make tea and snacks again."

"Girl, you know I'm always up for more of your..." Mabel flashed the witch a pair of finger guns and a wink, "... finger food!"

Her spare hand made a finger gun back. The witch laughed so hard she wheezed. Her boyfriend leaned down to pat her back.

As Mabel and Dipper wove their way down the Hand Witch's mountain, Mabel said, "It's good to see she's found a relationship. She seems happy! And less desperate."

"I dunno, I'm kind of worried about that guy. What if he's just using her to learn her handomancy secrets?"

"Naaah, I'm not worried about him. He's a really bad apprentice. I think he's just letting her train him as a bonding activity. Like when girls let their boyfriends explain football so they can watch games together." Mabel turned to peer at the dark cave above. "Do you think Alehandra will be lonely without me?"

"Wh—you already named it?"

"Hands come in pairs, Dipper. Maybe she'd like a twin sister." She looked at Dipper's hands. "Or brother."

"Oh no. Uh-uh, I can see where this is going. We've already gotten in enough trouble with that stuff."

Mabel's phone buzzed. They must have gotten near enough town to get reception again. She pulled out her phone, saw a text from Soos, and swiped it open. "Mabel, this is Ford..."

"Speaking of growing extra hands," Dipper said. "Mabel... I think this whole thing is a bad idea. I mean—worse than it was originally. Getting Bill magic hair growth formula is one thing, but, growing extra limbs? I don't know what he could do with that, but he could do something."

Mabel's thumbs hovered over the screen, paralyzed as she tried to figure out what to tell Ford and Dipper at the same time.

The truth was, she'd had the same worry as Dipper. She lowered her phone. "Yeah, okay, maybe he could possibly do something with it hypothetically—but clearly the whole reason he asked for it was for the hair growth part! Because he's bald. So maybe he just... doesn't care about the rest? If we get only enough Hairy Fairy to regrow his hair and use it all up, then he won't have a chance to use it for anything evil, right?"

"Unless he's not even interested in regrowing his hair." Dipper pulled off his backpack and rummaging through it until he found the advertisement Ford had given him. "Look, everything in this ad lines up with what Bill told us about Hairy Fairy's history. If he knew that much, he definitely could know it can grow extra limbs. He might have even known it was coming back on the market before he saw the commercial! What if the only reason he burned off his hair was to manipulate us into getting this formula?"

"What would he do with a bunch of extra body parts?" Mabel asked. "He's clumsy enough with the ones he already has. I kinda think more would make him weaker."

"I don't know, but—I didn't know what he wanted a 'puppet' for, either, and see how that turned out?"

Mabel bit her lip, looking at Dipper's face—and then looked down at her phone, rereading the last sentence of Ford's text. "I'm worried he might be up to something nefarious."

She couldn't have this conversation in two places at once. She typed a quick reply to Ford—"It's too complicated to explain in text! I'll tell you when Dipper and I get home. (It's NOT dangerous, don't worry!) ❤️"—and stuffed her phone in her pocket. "Okay," she said. "Look. Sure, it makes sense to be extra paranoid with Bill—especially when we saw him finish his big master plan last summer—but honestly? I kinda don't think he's that good. Think about how many times Grunkle Ford says he tried and failed to get into our universe! I don't think he's a big alien super-genius with a careful zillion-year plan; I think he's just some guy that needed to try a zillion years just to get one plan to work. And that's... kind of lame. What can a guy like that do with hair formula?"

Dipper absorbed that. "Wow. Yeah, actually, when you put it that way, that—that isn't very impressive." He grimaced. "But—okay, even if he didn't have a complicated escape plan, what if he saw the hair formula and thought of one that he needs extra arms for—?"

"Dipper, we can 'but what if' Bill forever!" She flung out her hands in frustration. "If we second-guess everything he says, we'll start wondering stuff like 'what if he wants us to distrust him so he can reverse-psychology us into doing the thing he actually wants?' It'll drive us crazy! And letting Bill drive us crazy won't make us safer! We can't spend another summer being paranoid about Evil Bill Tricks!"

"Okay yeah, you have a point, but—why is the solution 'do what he wants'? Why isn't it 'tell him no, and cover our ears whenever he tries to say he wants something so we don't even know what he wants and he can't manipulate us'?"

Mabel's mind flashed back to the sad ghost under the zodiac blanket, huddled in a dusty corner. She looked at her feet and kicked a clump of grass self-consciously. "Because... he's sad and it's making me sad."

Dipper groaned. "Mabel."

"I know—"

"Mabel, he could be acting sad on purpose—"

"I know he could, I know, I KNOW!" Mabel let out all her accumulated Bill-induced frustration in a scream that startled several birds out of a nearby tree. She jumped furiously on the clump of grass. "He probably thinks I'm a big soft sucker! He's the worst and I hate him so much!"

"YES!" Dipper aimed a kick at the grass clump. "He's the worst ever! It's his fault we're even having this argument!"

"This summer was supposed to be different!"

"No apocalypses, no murder attempts, and no demon triangles!"

"No triangles at ALL! I don't even like geometry!"

When they'd collaboratively destroyed the grass clump, they fell silent, breathing heavily, staring at the upturned dirt. "I needed that," Mabel said. After a moment, she knelt down and tried to set the mangled grass back upright. The grass did nothing to deserve this.

Dipper leaned against a tree. "So. Are we giving up on the hair stuff?"

Mabel carefully patted a mound of dirt around what was left of the base of the grass. "I... still wanna go through with it."

Dipper had used up all his frustration on the grass. He sighed. "If you're gonna get that stuff for Bill no matter what I say, then... why are you trying to talk me into it?"

"Because I'm not going to do it. Not unless you agree."

"You... what?"

"Dipper, I feel like this is the right thing to do—but that's why I need to know what you think. The last time we didn't talk things out, the world almost ended! We always make better decisions together than we do apart. If I can't say anything that makes you think it's worth the risk, then—I'll give up. I'll tell Bill we couldn't get the stuff, and offer to get him a discount wig after Summerween, and... that's it." Mabel shrugged. "I'm scared too. I keep wondering stuff like 'what if he gives himself leg stilts and climbs out the chimney? What if he grows seven fingers and can finally overpower Ford?' But that's stupid."

She looked up at Dipper. "I want to make sure that if we give up, it's because there really is a danger. I don't want to refuse to help somebody suffering just because we're scared of him."

Dipper slid down to sit on the grass and watch Mabel give the grass clump first aid. Once Mabel was satisfied enough to sit back and wipe her hands off on her skirt, Dipper said, "Yeah. I am scared of him. He's tricked me with some misleading wording before, and I don't want it to happen again. I want to say I'm just being logical, but... right now, maybe I'm doing more feeling than thinking, too." He shrugged. "The truth is, I can't think of anything he could do with the hair growth formula that isn't so ridiculous, even I don't believe it's possible."

Mabel nodded. "Are you scared enough to say 'no'? If you are, we'll quit."

"No, I'm not." Dipper heaved a sigh. "I guess... let's do it. But I want to be as careful as possible. We'll get just barely enough to regrow his hair, one of us will apply the formula so he can't misuse it—"

"I can do that," Mabel said. "I've already slathered like a whole bucket of yellow paint on his face."

"Okay. And I'll watch the whole time as backup, in case he tries anything."

"Barty can watch from the vents as the backup-backup, too!"

"Good idea."

"Boom! Flawless plan!" Mabel grinned. "Now let's go see Pacifica!"

####

The address Pacifica had given them led to a small fenced-in pasture outside town.

Over the main gate was a sign that read "Platinum Alpaca Estates".

In the pasture, a half dozen pink-collar-wearing alpacas placidly grazed.

And standing in front of it all—wearing immaculately tailored lavender overalls, a set of white rhinestone-studded boots and cowboy hat, and a nervous smile—was Pacifica.

Dipper and Mabel gaped.

Dipper said, "What the— What is—"

"Pacifica what."

Pacifica held up her hands. "Okay wait, just let me explain! After my family lost our mansion last year, I could only keep one horse? Which was devastating! I needed to fill the void of hoofed mammals in my life somehow."

Mabel leaned over the fence. "So you got alpacas?"

"I was actually inspired by the llama sweater you gave me." Pacifica gave Mabel a small, crooked smile. "It reminded me that I've always secretly thought alpacas are cute, and I really like alpaca wool goods, so I thought... you know... what if I try it out?" She opened the gate, gesturing for the twins to follow her toward a small barn. "And I actually really love it! These are like, my babies. And I'm talking with some fashion brands about maybe selling them some luxury wool?"

She led them into the barn, and then into a small office being cooled by a window A/C unit. Several wool garments, protected in glass cases, were proudly displayed on the walls with labels underneath: "First Sweater", "First Scarf", "First Blanket"—

"Hey!" Mabel pointed at the familiar blanket, creamy white with the anti-Bill zodiac in ochre yellow. "That's the one I made! Did the yarn you sent me to make it come from your alpacas?"

"It did! You're the first person to make anything with their wool."

"Whoa."

"I actually want to use my symbol from the circle as our brand. I'm waiting to hear from my copyright lawyer about who I need to talk to for the rights to the image—if it's you or your great-uncle, or if it's still with the tribe that left the valley like a thousand years ago, or if it's public domain," Pacifica said. "It's a vague enough shape, I think it could look like either a llama or an alpaca, right?"

Mabel considered what Bill had said about Pacifica's symbol, considered the small alpaca herd visible through the office window, and said, "I have it on good authority that it's supposed to be an alpaca."

"So, wait," Dipper said. "What does this have to do with your modeling job?"

"The ranch isn't turning a profit yet. I'm still in talks with the brands that want our wool, and in the meantime I've got to hire more people to help. I don't know the hard stuff about taking care of alpacas, I just kind of brush their wool and make friends with them while my employees do the hard stuff."

Dipper snorted.

"Hey! I'm learning! But I've only been doing this a few months." Pacifica sank down into her desk chair, propping her chin in her hands. "Almost all my allowance and side gig income is going toward my alpacas. My parents don't want to invest in my startup!" She pouted. "They said if I want to act like a rancher instead of a socialite, it'll be on my own dime."

"So that's why you're working two summer jobs?" Dipper said. "Oh, man. I should have known something was up. I thought it was weird when you said your parents wouldn't pay for a spring and summer wardrobe."

"Yeah, I spent my spring wardrobe budget on this barn," Pacifica said. "I figure I'm investing in my future wardrobe, you know?"

Mabel planted her hands on Pacifica's desk. "Pacifica, I can see how important this is. I've run a business myself—I appreciate the pressure you're under. But, how about this: we could help each other! If you get us a tiiiny bit of that formula, I'll come over once a week for the rest of summer to help out with your alpacas. For free!"

Pacifica blinked. "What?"

"And that way, even if you do get in trouble and lose your Hairy Fairy job, you'll still have someone to help you out!"

Dipper's eyes widened. "Um—Pacifica, could you give us a moment?" He grabbed Mabel's elbow and tugged her out of the office.

"What is it?"

Dipper whispered, "Are you sure you wanna make that kind of commitment for the rest of summer? For Bill's sake?"

"Dipperrr, it's like working in a petting zoo!" She gestured toward the office window. "Look at how soft they are!"

"Oh, boy."

"And maybe I could get some luxury alpaca wool! I'm gonna have the fanciest sweaters."

Dipper grimaced, but decided Mabel would probably have looked for an excuse to spend time around the alpacas regardless of the situation. "Okay. Have at her." He nodded back toward the office.

When Mabel and Dipper came back in, Pacifica was sitting up straighter, hands laced on her desk, a miniature businesswoman entertaining a business proposal. "I appreciate the offer," Pacifica said. "But I don't think a few hours of labor a week balance out the profits I could make at my modeling job. It just doesn't make financial sense. I'm sorry, Mabel. I've got to think of my alpacas."

"I understand. But—I've got to think of my not-friend. If you could just see..." She trailed off as a thought occurred to her. "Dipper! Let me get in your backpack."

"Um, okay—?"

Mabel rummaged around in the main pouch. "I'm sure we left it... Ha!" She slapped down a ziplock bag containing the lock of Bill's hair that they'd collected to make his poppet. "This... is the person I'm trying to help." She crossed her arms triumphantly. "Okay, not the person, but it's his hair anyway."

Pacifica's brows shot up. "Oh, wow." She opened the bag and carefully extracted a few strands to examine. "This is the most golden golden hair I've ever seen. And look at it. Little oily, could use a good conditioner, damaged roots, but otherwise amazing health, no split ends..." Pacifica looked at Mabel, pointed at the baggie, and asked, "Virgin?"

Mabel laughed nervously. "I have no idea and I never ever want to find out."

"No! I mean is this the natural color and texture, or has it been treated?"

"Oh. I'm pretty sure it just came like that?" She looked at Dipper.

Dipper shrugged. "I mean, probably? I doubt he hit up a salon before coming to the Mystery Shack."

"And... you say he had a bad haircut?" Pacifica asked. "What does he look like now?"

Gently, Mabel said, "Bald."

Pacifica let out the softest gasp. "Okay. I get it. I'll help. And also send over a couple of conditioner samplers, because whoever your friend is, he has not been taking care of his hair lately. Natural beauty can only carry him so far. I'll have the conditioners overnighted to your shack."

"Great!" A wide smile broke out across Mabel's face. "Thank you so much, Pacifica! And the formula, too?"

"Actually, I can give you that right now." Pacifica pulled a small green Hairy Fairy bottle from one of her overall pockets.

Mabel gasped in delight. Dipper said, "Wait, you had that the whole time?"

"When we escaped the country club, I accidentally still had the bottle we'd used for the live demonstration in my pocket," Pacifica said. "I was going to replace it tomorrow morning before anyone goes looking for it; I'll just give you guys a few drops and make up the difference with a little alpaca shampoo. Hopefully, nobody will notice the difference."

Mabel said, "Pacifica, you're the best!"

"I know." Pacifica leaned across the desk to put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "Just promise me one thing."

"Sure! What?"

"I won't be able to do this a second time," Pacifica said. "So you'd better make sure your friend takes care of his hair."

####

Bill squinted at the chocolate chip-sized dollop of lotion at the bottom of the quart-sized plastic food container. "Gotta hand it to you, Shooting Star. This is the funniest way you could have transported the formula."

"We forgot to bring anything to put it in." Mabel snapped on a pair of yellow dish gloves and pointed at the kitchen floor. "Okay! Sit down so I can reach and let me work my magic."

"What, don't think I can handle it myself?" But he sat down even as he protested. He'd already removed his cardboard triangle helmet—which now sat, battered and bent, on the kitchen table—and had washed off his paint/makeup as well as he could without requesting shower access.

Mabels scooped the dollop of lotion onto one gloved finger, then massaged it across her fingertips. "I'm your official makeup artist now! I've gotta do it. Besides, you missed a chunk of hair when you were removing it, you'd probably miss a chunk when you were putting it back on."

"Eh, fair enough. Okay kid, do your worst."

As Mabel coated Bill's scalp, the chemical burns he'd given himself while removing his hair vanished, replaced with new healthy skin—and Dipper quietly lamented, once again, that this stuff was being marketed to grow hair and not regrow limbs. He'd have to document it thoroughly in his journal later.

Dipper was sitting at the bottom of the attic stairs, watching the proceedings in the kitchen, armed with Mabel's grappling gun to use as a projectile weapon if Bill dared try anything. But Bill just sat there, legs crossed with his feet on his thighs and his hands palm-up on his knees like he was meditating, not even turning his head as Mabel worked.

Mabel jerked her hands back in surprise as a fresh layer of golden hair sprang out of Bill's scalp—then quickly reached in again, massaging the lotion into all the strands and coaxing them out until they were all around shoulder length, the same as they'd started. "There! Ta-da! Good as new!"

As the hair crawled down Bill's temples, tickled his ears, brushed his cheeks, he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could and clenched his jaw, straining hard to keep from moving. His open hands curled into fists. Dipper raised the grappling hook. But when Bill turned to face Mabel, he was all grins again, and if Dipper hadn't known to look for it he wouldn't have noticed the anxious tic in Bill's eyebrow. "Well? How do I look?"

"Gorgeous! If the real Goldilocks saw you, she'd have to change her name in shame."

"Ha! That's what I like to hear!" Bill un-pretzeled his legs and stood up. "And you did it without giving me any spare eyebrows, too." So he did know about the side-effects.

"Oh, pfff, yeah, I'm not lowering my guard around that stuff again. The first time I opened a bottle, I got some on me and grew an extra hand!"

"No! Really?" Bill gave Mabel's gloved hands a skeptical look. "Where's it now?"

"I donated it to the Hand Witch."

"Ahh, pity. You could've had some fun with your temporary crown."

"'Crown'?"

"Most fingers in the household?"

Mabel's eyes bugged out, and then a manic smile took over her face, as if her brain had just been flooded with more glee than her face could process. She yanked off the gloves, hastily rubbed them on her left wrist, and shouted, "GRUNKLE FOOORD!" She sprinted through the entryway and took the turn down the hallway so fast she ran a couple steps up on the wall before landing back on the floor. "Grunkle Ford, guess what!"

Dipper almost followed her—until he caught Bill moving in the corner of his eye, bending down to pick up the discarded gloves. Dipper raised the grappling hook. What was Bill planning to do with them—use the remainder to mutate himself? Save them to use later? Eat them—?

Bill dropped the gloves in the plastic container the lotion had come in, sealed the lid, and dropped them in the kitchen waste bin. Under his breath, he muttered, "The last thing I need is the pig sniffing this and growing an extra snout." He paused. "Wait. That would be funny."

From the other side of the house, Ford's voice bellowed, "BILL!"

Bill's head snapped around to face the kitchen doorway—and for the first time he glanced at Dipper sitting on the stairs. "Hey. What do you bet he didn't even let Mabel explain before deciding this is my fault?"

"Uh..."

Mabel and Ford's approach could be tracked through Mabel's hasty explanation: "Grunkle Ford, it's just a prank! I'm okay, see? I'm gonna donate Mirhanda to the Hand Witch, it'll be fine—"

The moment Ford saw Bill, he made a beeline for him and seized him by his t-shirt collar. "What did you do to her?! Answer me, Cipher!"

"I didn't! I'm innocent! I plea the fifth! I've been falsely accused! I was framed! Mercy!" The sincerity of his pleas was somewhat undermined by the fact that he couldn't stop laughing the whole time Ford was trying to menace him. His too-wide gleeful smile looked a lot like Mabel's.

####

"Okay, Pacifica," the director said. "This commercial is for the teen market, so we want you to talk to the camera like you're talking to your peers, all right? And by that, I don't mean your real peers. I mean the slightly less rich girls who would do anything you asked to be considered one of your peers."

"Don't worry, I've got this," Pacifica said. She positioned herself on her stool, hands laced over her knees, and said, "Ready when you are."

"And... action!"

Pacifica gave the camera her best haughty-but-not-too-haughty look, the one that said maybe if you say something interesting to me I'll double your social standing for fun, and launched into her memorized lines: "Hey, I'm Pacifica Northwest—you all know me, most of you probably want to be me. Listen, girls: have you ever tried to go short and it just didn't work out? Maybe that pixie cut makes your ears look weird, maybe those bangs are not for you. If you wish you looked as great as me, I have just the thing for you..."

Everything continued as normal, until Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula was applied to her hair... and nothing happened. Pacifica stumbled over a word, and then kept going, as if maybe no one would notice if she didn't draw attention to it. As she was wrapping up her monologue, her hair finally... slowly started growing... and stopped at half its usual length. Pacifica bit her lip.

"Pacifica!"

She winced and turned toward her boss, feigning a look of innocent surprise. "Yes, Mr. Haroldson?"

"What did you put in your hair! You know you're not supposed to have any product in your hair on shoot days!"

"Nothinggg! I've been following my hair care instructions perfectly! And I had it rinsed just before the shoot like always!"

"Well—what's the problem, then?" Mr. Haroldson turned to the hazmat-suited hairdresser holding the formula bottle.

"I don't know." He took off his mask. "This is the same sample bottle we used at the country club demonstration, it should be fine..." He took a sniff of it, and grimaced. "What...? That's not our usual fragrance, is it?" Mr. Haroldson leaned over to sniff as well.

She'd been found out. She was doomed. Her poker face collapsed like a house of cards. "Okay fine I took a few drops for a friend and maybe replaced it with a little bit of shampoo, so what!" She pointed at Mr. Haroldson. "What are you gonna do about it, huh? Fire me? Go ahead, see if I care! I can get a million better modeling jobs in a week!"

Mr. Haroldson's expression darkened in rage—and then he said, "Pacifica, you're a genius!"

"Huh?"

"Watering it down! Of course! We can sell unaltered bottles to hook new customers and then stretch out our supply by giving repeat customers the weak stuff—we'll tell them that it's less effective if they're overusing it! We can keep up that scam for years, it's not like the FDA is regulating this stuff! Why, we could even make a whole new product!" He turned to wave at an assistant, "Call R&D, get R&D on the phone—we'll make a formula designed to grow short hair. We can call it... Pixie Dust Pixie Cuts! It's all thanks to you, Pacifica!" He beamed at her.

She beamed back.

He said, "You're not getting credit or a raise though."

"Pshhh, obviously. I know how this industry works."

"All right, back to work." He pointed at the director. "Crack open a new bottle and let's wrap this up ASAP. I've got to schedule some meetings about the new product line."

####

"Well, he didn't grow himself eight arms," Dipper said, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He was going over a map of Gravity Falls he'd taken from the gift shop, circling locations of potential paranormal activity he wanted to investigate over the summer. Bill-tainted places got an additional triangle. "And I took out the kitchen trash to make sure Bill couldn't go back for the formula later. I guess he wasn't up to anything after all." He paused. "... Unless he wanted the formula in our trash, and now it's multiplying the garbage or getting picked up by some sleeper agent outside the shack—"

"Stooop," Mabel said. She was carefully coloring in a green bottle of Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula in Dipper's journal; Dipper had started entrusting his journal's art duties to Mabel whenever they went on a joint investigation. "We can't start thinking like that! Remember, our therapist told us that paranoia is a natural coping mechanism for dealing with scary situations, but trusting people is healthy and a sign of healing!" She set down the journal so she could emphasize the word "healing" with jazz hands.

"I think that's supposed to apply to trusting normal people."

"Yeah, but still." The journal flipped a few pages as she picked it back up, and her eyes were caught by scribbles in bright highlighter yellow. "Hey, what's this new stuff? Did you make up a secret code to keep notes in? Can I learn?"

"Ugh. No, Bill did that. I left my journal out and he wrote a bunch of secret messages. It's probably telling me how I'm going to die or the names of all the girls who will reject me or something."

"Pff, probably. Have you shown Grunkle Ford? Maybe he knows it."

"Not yet. He's been too busy."

"Right..." And now, she was sure, he was probably mad at her personally for worrying him with the hand prank.

Mabel flipped through a few more pages, looking at the bright yellow notes. She glanced toward the window, scanning the trees outside. She sighed and got up, leaving Dipper's journal on her bed.

"What's up?"

"Now you've got me worrying about sleeper agents. I'm gonna make sure the gloves are still in the trash."

When she'd confirmed all the garbage was right where it was supposed to be and came back in the shack, she spotted Bill in the living room. He was scrunched up on one side of the sofa as close to the doorway as he could get, watching TV. He glanced over as she shut the front door and flashed a grin. "Hey, Shooting Star. What're you up to?"

Ah, great. They were on casual chit-chat terms now. She edged toward the doorway but stayed outside the living room—sorry, not staying long—and said, "Oh, you know, just—looking at... the outdoors." Before he could dig further, she changed the topic. "So! How's that hair working out for you?"

"Ah." His smile wilted and his glance drifted back toward the TV. (He seemed to be watching the local news. Mabel decided he must've been really bored.) "Well, hair's still the worst thing that's ever grown on me and I still see a human in the mirror—but at least it's a human with a vaguely triangular silhouette. I can live with being back where I started."

"Sorry we couldn't come up with a real solution." As glad as she was to finish her obligation to Bill, she hated that all her efforts hadn't even really helped. Some problem-solver she was.

"Yeah, well. You can't build a pyramid out of meat. You did the best you could." Bill turned to fully face Mabel. "But, hey—listen." He had one eye squeezed shut but the other one stared her down with the intensity of a spotlight, paralyzing her in place. "Even if it's not perfect, I appreciate the effort you put in."

"Hey, it's no big deal. Crafts are my whole thing! It was kinda fun."

"No, I'm serious," Bill said. "I know I'm the town bogeyman, and everyone's only putting up with me until they find the easiest way to obliterate me. But you did a lot more than just 'put up with me.' And, well—don't tell the others I said this," he rolled his eye toward the hall to the rest of the house, and lowered his voice, "but... it's been a long time since anybody's treated me with a little kindness. Longer than you can imagine. I think I'd forgotten what it feels like. Even if I don't have much time left to enjoy it—I'm grateful for the reminder, kid."

Mabel's eyes widened. "Bill, that..." A lump formed in her throat. How long had it been? As big a jerk as he was—centuries? Millennia?

She darted into the living room, squeezed Bill in a hug before he could protest, and then bolted up the stairs two at a time.

And Bill thought to himself, got her.

Humans were so easy. Once you figured out what they wanted to believe in, you could make them do anything you wanted.

Mabel wanted to believe that everyone everywhere yearned to be friends with everyone else, and that the only thing holding them back was the defensive walls they built around their emotions. Mabel wanted to see people's walls come down. Mabel wanted every social problem to be simple enough that even a child could solve it if they were earnest and honest enough.

Mabel shouldn't have let Bill watch Color Critters. It told him too much about the kind of world she idealized. He had that kid completely figured out—

There was a loud pounding as Mabel leaped back down the stairs three at a time. "On your feet!" She grabbed Bill's hands and tugged him off the sofa, then wrapped a measuring tape around his hips.

He twisted around in bewilderment as she circled him, now measuring his chest. "What—?"

"Face forward! Arms out from your sides!" She measured his shoulder span, then grabbed one arm to measure the length. "I'll be back later. I've got work to do. Do not come upstairs!"

Bill leaned out the doorway to watch her bunny-hop back up to the attic.

Okay, he had that kid mostly figured out.

Well, the odd quirks just made her a little more interesting than the average human. The important thing was that, whether she knew it or not, she wanted Bill to be her friend. She wanted to be the horse girl who tamed the hostile bronco, the beauty who saved the beast. She wanted monsters to swear their loyalty to cute spunky protagonists, and she thought she was a protagonist.

The "reformed bad boy" was outside of the usual characters he played—he was better as the ancient teacher, the playful trickster, the divine messenger—but it was an easy enough role, and it gave him plenty of room to misbehave while staying in character. It's so hard to change my old ways—but maybe it would be easier if you give me another chance, if you help me, if you do this one little thing for me...

There was a fun little quirk of human psychology that was so well-known they'd even given their own name to it: the Foot-In-The-Door Technique. Once you get a human to do you one small, tiny little favor, they'll be more likely to do you another, bigger favor later. Borrow a dollar today and they'll be more likely to let you borrow a hundred dollars next week. Ask them to drive you to the auto shop and you'll have a better chance of asking them to help you move. Get them to bring you a little hair solution, and... well, Bill would just have to wait and see what he wanted next.

As long as everything Bill asked for was harmless, there was nothing the warier members of the household could do to intervene without making themselves look like the unreasonable ones. And by the time Bill started asking for anything dangerous, he'd have Mabel eating out of the palm of his hand, and she'd have no idea until it was too late that she didn't mean a thing to him—

####

Bill stared dumbly in the mirror at the yellow yarn hoodie. "H—Did you just make this?" With his arms at his sides, from the shoulders down, it looked like a decapitated triangle.

"I used velvet yarn for your brick pattern," Mabel said. "It makes the lines stand out more! And I cut one of Dipper's bow ties in half to make the hood's drawstring so you can tie it into a bow!"

Wordlessly, Bill tied the bow—it hung in the center of his chest—and then he pulled the hood on, tugging it low over his forehead, completing the triangle. Mabel had put an eye on the hood. She'd even remembered Bill's eyelashes.

"I thought, hey—if the mask was too much, and the hair is too little, maybe a hoodie's just right," Mabel said. "I don't usually make sweaters for people—sweater curse, blarrr, you know—but, this one time, I thought it was important." She gave Bill a nervous smile. "So... what do you think? Do you like it?"

Bill stared at his reflection. It was hideous, misshapen, and alien, but it was almost himself.

He looked at Mabel. He got down on his knees. He put a hand on her shoulder. He said, "I will kill one enemy of yours, for free, no questions asked, in any way you want."

Mabel blinked. "Please don't do that."

"When I take over the universe I'm giving you your own galaxy."

"I don't—I don't want a galaxy. What would I do with a whole galaxy?"

"A solar system. A planet? Everyone wants their own planet!"

Mabel shook her head.

"Then what do you want?" What the heck do human children like. "Can I show you a magic trick?"

Mabel considered that.

####

"Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford!" Mabel ran into the kitchen, pushing Waddles in front of her, breathless with excitement. "Look what I can do!" She held a clear plastic spoon at arm's length, peered through it at Waddles like it was a magnifying glass, and slowly lifted the spoon up. Waddles floated up into the air as well. He snorted in mild bafflement.

Stan's jaw dropped. Ford said, "Ohhh, boy."

Mabel beamed at them both.

####

(This chapter isn't quite as edited as I usually do, because I've been sick this past week but wanted to get it out anyway. Apologies for that and I'd appreciate if you noticed any typos or disjointed sentences! And I'd doubly appreciate any nice comments, I've been having a hell of a week.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #mabel pines #fanfic #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #bill goldilocks cipher

243 notes · View notes

zedleaked · 5 months

Note

could I maybbbe see Ryoma holding/interacting with a virtual world Gonta ...

little guy is no longer little...

I wanna get this brain idea out and this ask is like loosely related to it so I'm gonna info dump here

I've had so many thoughts about an au where Ryoma ends up surviving and ends up seeing Gonta's execution-

Like leading up to this- it all starts when Ryoma is starting to head to his lab after seeing his motive video- he's broken because of what he saw in it. But before he gets to his lab Gonta ends up spotting him and takes him to his own lab after seeing how depressed he looks...

The two of them bond as Gonta tries to find ways to get Ryoma to cheer up. It results in Gonta sticking by Ryoma's side and Ryoma just letting it happen because: "Tch, there's no point in telling him to buzz off." and after a bit... Ryoma starts to get attached as Gonta tries to bring purpose into his life again. Gonta becomes one of the reasons he wants to live...

In chapter 4 you know what happens... Ryoma is fucking distraught, he's not like- visibly breaking down but his head definitely isn't in the right space, his reason to live left as soon as it came. As Gonta is sent to his execution he urges Ryoma to live for him and not give up, that he can still help everyone escape even if Gonta is not there...

I dunno I think about it so much,,, angst potential is insane methinks- there should be more goshi angst... if only I were good at writing or something........

#ask #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #v3 #goshi #gonta gokuhara #ryoma hoshi #Zed's art

100 notes · View notes

gamerwoman3d · 1 month

Text

Pretend I'm Him

Imagine secretly banging Kuai Liang before the shit hit the fan at Ying Fortress. In the aftermath of the fallout, the grandmaster wants a word…

[My apologies to other genders - lady anatomy used, from the start this time. Additionally, you don't have to agree with what this reader character thinks: just understand her information has been filtered. She is not omnipotent. Her information about the fallout is limited to what her clan/grandmaster has said about those events.]

Tags: SOFTER Bi-Han.

[Yes this is MK1 Bi-Han x Reader]

[🔞Spicy/Explicit after the cut🔞]

Imagine this non-committal relationship with Kuai Liang that was supposed to remain a secret. Imagine sneaking out on the regular, just to feel his hot tongue on your clit. You learned every soundproof nook and cranny of the Lin Kuei stronghold like your lives depended on it, not because any threat to either of you existed here at home, but rather because if you were forced to go more than a couple of days without sex, you felt like you just might die.

And then there was some bullshit at Ying Fortress. You were already so pent up waiting for Kuai Liang to return. You knew it was serious because his brother, the Grandmaster himself, went with him to oversee the mission. Your heart jumped for joy when you overheard that the Grandmaster finally returned, only to discover that Kuai Liang and their adopted brother were marked as traitors, and would likely never be returning to the fortress.

Sure, you were worried for Kuai Liang, for the clan, for the future. Hell, you even felt some concern for your Grandmaster's broken heart. And maybe you were a little scared for yourself: Kuai Liang wasn't the enemy when you were sleeping with him, but you did sleep with said enemy, and had some concerns about what that might mean for you if that fact was discovered going forward. After all, the Lin Kuei stronghold was your home. Its walls protect your friends, family, and your entire support network, all clumped together in this small community which calls the stronghold home. Their protection might be at risk if the clan begins to suspect you of colluding with a traitor. But deep down, in your shadowy id, the second you heard the news, your initial gut reaction was "FUCK. WHAT AM I GONNA DO TO GET MY NEEDS MET, NOW?”

No one can blame you. Every day that Kuai Liang was gone was a day that you burned inside for the lack of him. You were so excited when you thought he was coming home, so energized, so ready to extinguish the flames, so wet.

What a fucking letdown. And it was days ago.

You stared at the blank encrypted messaging app on your phone. If you messaged him, and were discovered, it could be taken as an act of consorting with the enemy. If you didn't, it might seem to him like you didn't care. If you reached out, he might think you were stalking him to help your clan hunt him down. But the only way to stop overthinking it was to reach out and see what happens.

Kuai Liang didn't answer. You weren't being left on "seen" - it was as if he lost his phone entirely.

No closure. Fantastic. Could it get any fucking worse.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Not Kuai Liang, as you had hoped, but your best bud. You answer on the first ring, only to be interrupted by your breathless friend's frantic whispering.

"Hey! Sub-Zero's looking for you. I dunno what's going on, but I gotta go.”

You'd rather be back in school as the kid walking shamefully to the principal's office. You'd rather be back at bootcamp pounding sand in freezing temperatures. You'd rather be a deer stuck in the headlights of a speeding semi.

You snap to your senses and delete the encrypted app from your phone. You straighten yourself up and do what you do best - Sneak out, and sneak around the Lin Kuei stronghold.

You hid for a minute to think, watching from the shadows as your Grandmaster's best people searched for you in an unobtrusive manner. Then, you decided to take yourself to him. His family's private domicile was far enough from yours that your immediate family wouldn't have to see or hear whatever went down. Maybe you could keep your secret a bit longer that way. Or maybe he'd murder you on the spot.

His back was to you as you approached the garden at the front of his home. He stood unmasked, and spoke to a pair of his men. The men each stole a glance at you, prompting Sub-Zero to turn and glance over his shoulder as he spoke.

He did a double-take.

He immediately dismissed the men, who walked past you as you strode up the walkway toward them. With the whites of his eyes visible between the top of his bottom eyelid and the bottom of his brown irises, Sub-Zero's expression felt uncharacteristically soft as you approached.

"I heard that you wanted to see me, sir?" you questioned.

You held your breath.

"Yes. Don't be nervous, you're in no trouble," he said.

His voice sounded strange when he spoke gently. It sounded strange without the muffled echo from the mask. Both things being true at once, it was like speaking to a different person than the masked master of the training grounds. His voice wasn't the stinging gravelly growl that he used while in command. It was a husky, comforting sound, sprung from a genuine intent to calm and reassure your quivering heart.

With a wave of his hand, he invited you inside. Someone brought tea, and he redirected it to an office in his house. Now life felt exactly like a visit to the principal's office, if upon one of the bookshelves was a photo of your shirtless lover holding your shirtless principal in a headlock.

Your eyes fixated on the photo of Scorpion and Sub-Zero. It was before Kuai Liang had the scorpion tattooed, but well after his biceps had formed into what they still are, today. You wanted to say that you missed him dearly, but damn, you missed his body. Staring at the divots along his obliques had you dying to feel them between your thighs once more.

Sub-Zero's eyes followed yours to the photo. For a millisecond, his eyebrows knit in pain in an otherwise bemused expression.

"Tomas took that photo... the little traitor.”

“What happened?” you asked.

“Mm. Mom called Kuai Liang to nag him over the phone. I can do a convincing imitation of him so I snuck up behind him and said ‘You can’t make me!’” Bi-han mocked.

You had to admit to yourself that his imitation in that moment was spot on. But you also forced yourself to keep quiet, even as the uncanny mockery of your lover's voice made you miss him even more.

He continued.

“Immediately, we hear her squawking on the other end of the line, and he crushes his phone so hard in anger that the screen snapped. She always believed he actually said it and then hung up on her.”

The bemused expression faded from his face, leaving behind a pained gloss over his brown eyes.

“She was mad at him for so long. I deserved the beating he tried to give me.”

Sub-Zero reached out and gently turned the photo down upon its face before opening a locked file cabinet and rifling through its folders. He gestured to the tea and to the seating, welcoming you to make yourself comfortable.

You thanked him, sat, and took a sip of the boiling hot tea that was served to you; it would have been seen as an act of enmity not to do so. You held the cup for warmth and comfort. Truthfully, the hard ceramic was stinging-hot and smooth to the touch... god damn. Must every little thing remind you of his touch. You pressed your fingers into the glazed surface to feel the sting on your fingertips, in a futile attempt to disengage yourself from the current reality. Your panic over the immediate future kept a strong hold on you, even as you wished to be back in Kuai Liang's arms.

Sub-Zero closed the drawer, keeping his eyes fixed on the papers of a file he'd withdrawn. It still wasn't apparent to you how much the man knew about your relationship with his disaffected brother. And the grandmaster had yet to state what he wanted with you. If you truly were not in trouble, does that mean he didn't know? Or was he secretly ready to send you back to the character select screen? You bit back your burning questions. Moments of excruciating silence passed.

"... Keep breathing," he instructed, trying to withhold a smirk.

You gasped a bit. You realized that you weren't just biting back the questions - you were holding back your breath. Your breath hitched and shuddered as it fought to catch up quietly. Sub-Zero waited until your breathing evened out to speak.

"You still haven't asked me why I wanted to see you. Do you already know?" he asked.

The question was bait. And you knew it. You shook your head and said no.

He nodded.

"You're good. You are really good," he said.

You took the compliment in silent confusion.

"I think if anyone here could get to Kuai Liang, it's you," he said.

You swallowed. You broke a sweat.

"What makes you think that?" you asked, acting as though you were innocent of having had any prior connection.

He arches an eyebrow. At the same time he thumbs a piece of paper out of the file: a receipt from the pharmacist. The receipt showed that you were issued a few prescriptions: silver based ointment for blisters, and one slightly more embarrassing cream. You remembered needing it after a particularly hot experiment with Kuai Liang went wrong in the early days of your secret relationship.

You turn red, not when he shows it to you, but when he looks into your eyes with a cocky, knowing gaze. His eyes may as well have become the headlights; your secrets become the deer. The mess was just as bloody in your mind either way. You suddenly wish patient-provider confidentiality were a more sacrosanct part of Lin Kuei military tradition. But even if it were, the grandmaster likely had methods of extracting their information. Your heart pounded.

He knew you'd fucked Kuai Liang.

His voice stayed strangely dulcet, full of compassion and understanding when he next spoke. His words didn't match his timbre.

"When I read this, I came to the conclusion that you both got a little too fired up.”

"Not the puns, please. I'll go pound sand in the freezing desert, please no more puns," you thought.

You didn't mean to groan aloud at his terrible pun. It just kinda happened. You didn't expect him to soften and apologize so quickly, but he did.

"I am sorry to have brought that up. I truly am. I imagine it must have been painful, or at least deeply uncomfortable for you. To the matter at hand, let us both start by committing to being straightforward with each other. That will benefit the both of us, greatly. And now I will ask you, kindly, please do not insult my intelligence by feigning ignorance, and I will not insult yours by pretending I'm funny. Agreed?"

“You said I wasn’t in trouble.”

“You’re not. Listen… I can't afford to make a mortal enemy out of someone who can sneak around my own home as effortlessly as you have. I had my best people searching for you, but when you arrived here, my guard was down. My back was to you. If Kuai Liang had asked you to kill me, you could have done it, right then.”

It’s true. Your eyes widened. Your thoughts were so preoccupied with whether or not he would kill you, that it never occurred to you that he could be worried about your own ability to kill him, let alone kill him in his own home at any time you desired.

He sat the papers down, cupped your face with both hands, and lifted until your eyes met his. This close, you could see the dark circles of sleeplessness form beneath his eyes. Something about the out of place strands of hair on one side of his bun made you imagine him awake all night, laying on the messy side.

“I just want to be able to sleep. I try to sleep each night knowing that on any given night, you could end my life if you wanted. I’ll sleep easier when I know where you stand. I’ll sleep much easier if I know you’re going to stay on our side. But even if you don’t, Kuai Liang is out there somewhere and I fear he is lost, suffering, and alone. I know I couldn’t stop you if you want to reach him and join his side. And even if I could stop you, I would choose to let you go, in hopes that someday maybe you can talk some sense into him. And no, I do not want to see any harm befall either of you. You are Lin Kuei. The Lin Kuei are my life. You have my word that I will continue to honor and protect your family and friends to the best of my ability if you decide to leave. But stay. Please. I would do anything for you to stay. So what is it? What do you want? What can I give you that will make you stay?”

Your face turned red between his warm hands. You hadn’t been touched by a man since they left for Ying Fortress, and your body had jumped to inappropriate conclusions beneath his touch. You couldn’t answer him. He studied your face. He shook his head and spoke.

“The only thing you want is him, isn't it?”

Well… maybe the only thing you wanted was sex. You weren't quite in love with Kuai Liang, not in the way that would have you abandoning everything you knew to join him in his fight against everyone who ever supported you. With Bi-Han’s firm grip on your face, you couldn't turn your head from your grandmaster. But you broke eye contact, casting your eyes down in shame from your inability to honestly answer that Kuai Liang was indeed the only thing you wanted. He wasn't.

“I don't want to die, and I don't want to break my oaths,” you said.

“You're not breaking your oaths. I'm willing to command you to go to him. To spy. To watch over him. To guide him and make sure he doesn't get himself killed in service to Liu Kang. You'd never be marked as an enemy, always welcome to return.”

Leave everything to go babysit a grown man? Hell naw.

“I don't want to leave…” you admitted it.

“Then look me in the eyes and tell me you are not considering running away to find him,” Bi-han gently ordered.

You turned your eyes as far away from him as you could. Logically, a man that breaks his oaths and abandons your entire community was not worthy of running toward. It should have been easy to tell Bi-han that there was no part of you that wanted to chase after Kuai Liang. But instead, you replied:

“I can't. The… the sex… was amazing. And the thought does cross my mind.”

As you said it, his breath stilled. Your words caught him off guard.

“So then it is only the sex that you want? Not the connection, the heart nor the soul?” he asked.

You certainly had not treated each other like soulmates. If anything, you and Kuai Liang had treated each other like fucktoys, and you both loved every minute of it.

“That's right,” you said.

Somewhere in your gut, you realized: if Kuai Liang had loved you, considered you his soulmate, or had even wanted to build a life with you, he would be here. He would have returned. He would have done anything to return to your side, including obey illegal orders. If he ever truly loved you, he would have at least considered joining his brother in betraying God Himself. But Kuai Liang had done none of that. He chose his path with no hesitation. He was gone from you now, and if you were honest with yourself, you always knew that the two of you weren't meant to last forever.

The thought brought angry, embarrassed tears to the brink of your eyes. You hoped you could bite them back for the duration of Bi-Han’s inquiry.

“And yet, you want it enough that you feel tempted to run to him. It burns so badly that you feel tempted to aid a deserter?” Bi-Han said.

Neither you nor Kuai Liang were serious about each other. At least not enough to label each other or go public with your fling. That's why you both kept it a secret. You should have told your Grandmaster all of this with your words when he asked if you wanted his brother's sexual services more than his heart and soul: but you said it all with a cringe and a silent nod.

Yes, it was only the sex that I wanted. Not his heart. Not his soul. you silently admitted.

Bi-Han’s face twisted into a quizzical pout, not dissimilar to a look you'd seen on your lover's face in the past when he silently sought solutions as he worked through problems in his mind. The silence lasted too long for comfort; you could sense him figuring out what to do with you. His brows flashed with the strike of an idea.

“Pretend I'm him,” he said.

“What?”

Your mind jumps to a scenario where you pretend that Bi-Han is your lover and act out all the fantasies you'd saved for Kuai Liang's return. You felt perverse: it felt wrong to assume you'd been ordered to *treat* Bi-han in the same sexual manner that you would treat his brother. Surely he didn't intend for you to imagine Kuai Liang while he pleasured you in the deepest most erotic methods. Even allowing yourself the briefest glimpse at Bi-Han through a carnal lens proved devastating. One glimpse was all it took to deeply appreciate his shoulders, his eyes, his strength, his agility, his voice, his highly regimented grooming habits. Good god, you marveled at what he could do to you if he wanted. Was he really suggesting himself to be your lover? A stand in?

Imagine the Grandmaster reducing himself to the role of a stunt cock, just to keep you loyal to the Lin Kuei. Erotic thoughts banished the angry tears back into whatever well from which they sprung.

You were certain you couldn't have understood him correctly. Maybe he meant “imagine what I'd do if I were in his shoes planning my next move” or something.

You asked him to repeat himself, to clarify his orders.

“That was an offer, not an order,” he said, “I'm at your disposal. I meant it when I said I'd do anything to have rest assurance that your oaths still mean something. Use me however you wish. Make me sneak away with you if that's what excites you. I won't make you keep me a secret, yet if you desire it, I'll take our secrets with me to my grave. Whatever you want from him, I'll do my best to provide you in his stead.”

“You're offering… sex?” you asked incredulously.

“If that interests you, then yes. Whenever you want him, whenever your desire for him burns away your strength, leaves you weak, needy, or desperate enough to leave us, I want you to consider coming to me first. You won't have to explain yourself, and I do not expect you to banish all thoughts of him.”

Words failed you.

He allowed the uncomfortable silence to linger a bit too long.

He inched closer, hovered over you where you sat in a small but growing puddle of your own wetness. His face lingered near yours, his breath against your flushed cheek. You pressed your knees together. He murmured toward your ear, in a hauntingly familiar mimicry.

“Pretend I'm him,” he said in Kuai Liang's voice.

He continued to warp his timbre to mimic his brother's softer, hoarse intonation. And, for the first time in your life, you dared to interrupt him.

“Does that interest you? If not tonight, then later-” he asked.

“Tonight. Tonight, please,” you whispered.

“As you wish,” he said, perfectly mocking his brother's voice.

He leaned in until the bridge of his nose almost met yours. He stilled himself. His gaze invited you to make the first move: cognizant of the amount of power he held over you, he required a great deal of assurance that you truly wanted to do it. He let his warm thumbs caress your cheeks as he waited for you.

You shut your eyes, pressed your lips shut, pressed the shut lips against his, and kissed. He kissed back.

His lips were different from Kuai Liang's. They were firm, fitting. Kuai's lips were supple and plump enough to surround yours when kissed like this. Bi-Han’s lips could only give yours that surrounded feeling by parting just enough to gently suck your kisses, while gliding his tongue against them to tease them open.

You trembled, imagining what this sensation would feel like on your clit. You whimpered into the kiss despite yourself. You couldn't imagine this kiss as one of Kuai Liang's; Bi-Han’s kiss tasted like minty whitening gel and expensive honeyed tea. Kuai Liang’s kiss smells like smoke, tastes exactly like one might expect that a man who breathes fire and eats pussy should taste like. It was too different. It was Bi-Han. You were letting the grandmaster slip his honeyed tongue into your kisses, and into your dreams; You couldn't let yourself pretend otherwise.

You remembered the way you would melt just to feel Kuai Liang breathing. How you'd melt to feel his hands on your back. How you'd feel to be enveloped in his embrace. Bi-Han’s body was not so comfortable as Kuai Liang's. You remembered Kuai Liang's thick arms felt strong but pliant. You held Bi-Han’s biceps in your hands. They felt more like polished mahogany, stiff, smooth. The density of the man's arms was unlike what you were accustomed to; but the feeling raised your temperature.

You pushed back on his chest, pulled yourself away, and broke the kiss. He let you break the kiss, and waited for you to explain.

“Do you still feel okay?” he asked.

“Yes, it's just different.”

“Is it too different?”

“You taste different,” you said.

“What should I taste like,” he asked.

Fixated on the thought of his tongue on your clit, you bit your lip and parted your knees slightly from muscle memory. You were remembering times when Kuai Liang tasted like you in the moments after he tongued open your pussy.

When you didn't answer his question in words, he studied your body language, noting that your legs were no longer pressed together. Fear of impropriety forced you to hide this sexual part of yourself from your grandmaster for as long as you could remember.

“Ah,” he said as if reading your mind, “is that where you want me?”

“Yes, yes I want you there, but with kisses. Kisses please. I want your kisses, there. I need you to kiss me the way you did just now, only, down there,” you finally answered, keeping your eyes closed for the duration of your confession.

“You like my kisses that much?” He asked.

The sound of a smile painted his voice.

“Mmm-hmm,” you answered, “I like your kisses, I haven't had any kisses since you left for ying fortress…”

Sub-Zero realized your statement was true whether you were pretending to address him as Scorpion or not - either way, you haven't had any play since “he” left for ying fortress. He let his hands wander along your hips, stroked over your belly below the naval, just to watch you squirm.

“That sounds rough. No kisses, none at all?” he teased.

“Nooo, none! What about you?”

He shifted into his natural, gravely tiger-purr voice to whisper an answer.

“I can't speak for him on that topic, but for me it's been a long while. A lot longer than Ying Fortress.” he confessed.

Part two link here

To See My External Masterlist, Click Here

#sub-zero fanfic #bi han fanfic #lin kuei brothers #lin kuei fanfic #sub-zero #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #bi han #sub zero #subzero #mk sub zero #kuai liang

73 notes · View notes

normal-internet-user · 1 year

Text

Supplier

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: You are always supplying your purple banded friend with tools and parts for his research and inventing, but one day, you accidentally leave behind a piece of paper you thought you trashed, and it leads to an accidental confession.

Warnings: None!

Requested: Nuh uh!

GN!Reader

....................................

You hummed quietly as you searched through the scrap metal infront of you.

You were currently digging around in a scrapyard that was located not to far from your apartment. Donnie had sent you a list of parts he needed for a thingy majig that he was working on, and you promised to get them for him.

Humming quietly to the song you heard on the radio this morning, you picked up one of the parts Donnie asked for, putting it in your little red wagon alongside everything else.

Checking your list, you notice that you finished grabbing everything, so you start to walk out of the scrapyard, waving goodbye to the old man who owns it as you leave. He lets you come in whenever you want to, and never once had he asked you for payment either, he was super sweet.

You walked down the sidewalk, dragging your wagon behind you. Suddenly you get a text from Donnie, you open the message and read it out.

Purple Guy: Did you get the stuff?

You smile, sending a quick reply.

(Nickname): Yep! I got it all here! I dunno if some of it works, but ig we'll find out.

Purple Guy: Thank you so much, (Name)! You are literally the most amazing person ever!

Purple Guy: Bring it all down ASAP, ok? I'll see you in a bit!

You blush slightly, this dork had no idea what he was doing to you. Sure, it was a light hearted, easy-going complement. One you would give a friend.

But gosh darn it, somehow it still gave you butterflies.

Sighing, you make your way down an alley, then over to the back wall. You look behind you, then up towards the rooftops, checking to make sure you aren't being watched.

Once you confirm that its fine, you drop the wagon handle. You walk over to one of the dumpsters and reach behind it, hand brushing the wall untill you find a button.

Pushing the button, you back away as the ground opens up. Smiling you walk through the entrance that is normally used for the Shellraiser.

You arrive at the Lair shortly after, heaving your wagon up the stairs. Walking further into your turtle friends home, you find Mikey and Leo sitting on the couch, watching TV.

"Hey guys." you say, greeting the two.

Mikey whips his head around, jumping up and over to you, "(Name)'s here!"

The orange masked turtle pulls you into a bearhug, sqeezing tightly.

"Mikey- need- air-!"

"Oops."

Mikey drops you, smiling sheepishly, "Sorry dude/tte, my bad."

You laugh shaking your head as you pick up the wagon handle, "Your fine, Mikey. Just try not to squeeze so hard, I'm brittle remember?"

The terrapin smiles and nods, before walking over and crashing back on the couch. You wave to Leo before continuing to Donnie's lab.

"Knock, knock."

Donnie jerks his head up at the sound of your voice, looking in your direction. He smiles at you as he pulls up his welding mask, you returning his smile with one of your own.

You push the wagon infront of you, nudging it closer to Donnie, "I come bearing gifts."

He gasps, "No way you actually found that one?" he rushes over and picks something out of the parts.

"Was it supposed to be hard to find?" you ask, sitting in the extra chair Donnie always had out for you.

"Yes! I've been trying to find one to fix for a while now, but haven't had any luck. Gosh you really are amazing."

You blush, clearing your throat, "S-so uh, what is it?"

Donnie looks up from examining the peice, "Hm? Oh, it's a motor for a hydrolic press, I need for a Shellraiser upgrade."

You nod, looking around the lab as Donnie continues to dig through the stuff you brought him.

You jump as your phone buzzes, pulling it out of your pocket, you see a message from your mom, telling you your aunt and cousins were coming over for dinner, and that you had about an hour to cousin proof your stuff.

Not looking up from your phone as you reply to your mother you get Donnie's attention, "Hey, Dee, I have to go. Apparently we're having family over for dinner. I got about an hour to put up anything I don't want broken."

"Your aunt Sherry?" he asks as he bring some of the stuff over to his desk.

"Yep, Aunt Sherry and her little trolls." you sigh, "I'll just come back for my wagon tommorow, ok? that way I have an excuse to bother you guys."

Donnie smiles, "Sure thing, see you tommorow, (Nickname)."

"See you tommorow, Don."

You walk out of the Lab, saying good-bye to Leo and Mikey, on the way, leaving out into the New York sewer system.

You make your way down through the streets to your apartment, thinking about how smoothly that small interaction with Donnie had gone. You only blushed once!

Sure you were there for like, fifteen minutes, but, hey, a win is a win.

Walking up into the apartment you share with your parents, you say hello to your mother before walking into your room to begin the process of hiding things.

You sigh, as you put your laptop up on a high shelf, thinking silently to yourself. Should you tell him? Would he even feel the same way? Didn't he have a crush on April? It's not that you hadn't tried to tell him before, in fact the opposite was true.

You had tried to tell him before in person, over text, your latest attempt involved you writing out your feeling on paper with the intent of giving him the note. But you once again chickened out, and trashed the note.

Why was this so dang hard? Why do feelings need to be so friggin' complex? You love Donnie, you really do. You love his adorkable smile, the way he rambles on about his certain projects, how he smiles whenever you ask him a question.

He was perfect. But for some stupid reason, you just couldn't being yourself to tell him.

Before you could fall deeper into your own pity party, you heard your mother loud voice greeting your aunt at the door.

With a sigh you start to make your way into the living room, prepared to endure hell.

<DONNIE'S POV>

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

I watched as (Name) left the Lab, listening to their cheerful voice as they bid my brother goodbye.

I look at the red wagon with a sigh. I shake my head, forcing myself to focus.

"Relax, Donnie. They'll be back tommorow."

I begin to unpack the wagon, placing the parts (Name) brought me in their rightful place around the Lab. My body was workimg on auto pilot as I focused on my thoughts.

How I had managed to get through that entire interaction with (Name) without completely embarrasing myself was a complete mystery.

I had recently come to terms with my feelings for them, I had been over April for quite a while now, and honestly, this was worse.

My old infatuation with April was completely different than my feelings for (Name). With April, it was more like feelings of physical attraction, the definition of a typical school kid crush.

But (Name) made me feel different. They make me smile, and laugh, I feel like I'm on a cloud whenever we talk. Their voice, their eyes, their kind nature, who wouldn't be in love with them?

"Exactly, who wouldn't be in love with them? why would they choose you?"

"Shut up brain." I mutter to myself

I finally finish emptying the wagon, so I grab the handle, and move it to a corner of the Lab. That way, when (Name) comes to get it tommorow it's not damaged at all.

I start to turn away from the wagon, when I notice a crumpled peice of paper sitting in the bottom the empty transport.

Curious, I pick up the paper, doing my best to smooth out the wrinkles, I see the familar handwriting belonging to (Name).

My eyes widen as I read the paper, jaw dropping in surprise.

They like me.

I re-read the note, double and triple checking that I've read it correctly. And I did. It was the exact same the first, second, and third time I read it.

I clutched the note in my hand, running out of the Lab, and the Lair. I ignore Leo's questions as I rush into the sewers, with only one thing on my mind.

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

You close your bedroom door, as quietly as possible, locking it just to be safe.

You had finally ditched the miny terrors that were your cousins, and the last thing you wanted was them in your room.

With a loud sigh you fell backwards onto your bed, arms and legs spread like a starfish.

But before you could even get fully comfortable, a soft knock came from your window.

Groaning, you got up from your bed, and walked over to your window. You drew back the curtains, practically jumping from your skin as you're greeted by the sight of a beaming Donatello Hamato.

You unlatch the window, allowing Donnie into your room. "What are you doing here? The sun isn't even fully down ye-"

"I like you too."

"I- what?" you're taken aback at Donnie's statement. He likes you too?

"I like you too. Like, as more than a friend."

"How did you-"

"I, uh- found your note." Donnie sheepishly handed you the crumpled paper, and you looked down at it,

'Dear, Donatello Donnie,

I like you. Like, alot. And I wrote it down on this note because I've tried and failed to tell you in person, and I have for a while. I like your smile, I like your laugh, I just couldn't help but fall for you.'

You felt your cheeks heat up, "Uh-uhm..."

Your cheeks burned brighter when you felt Donnie's hand on your chin, lifting your face so that you're looking at him.

"Can I... Can I kiss y-you?" he asked, softly.

You nodded, arms wrapping around his neck as you both lean in slowly. Just before you can kiss, you hear a knock on your bedroom door.

The two of you jump, both your heads jerking up to face the door.

"Honey? your aunt wants you to show her that scarf you bought the other day." your mom called from the otherside.

"O-ok! just a second." you yell back.

You heard your mother walk away from your door, and turned to face Donnie again, "Hurry up, kiss me before the gremlins interrupt too."

He laughed quietly before trapping your lips with his own. The kiss was slow, gentle, and sweet, just what you'd expect from Donnie. When the two of you pull away, he's looking directly into your eyes, gaze so full of love you would think you'd hung the stars.

Before either of you could say anything, a knock interrupted again, "(Name)? Are you coming?" your mother asked through the door.

"Y-yeah, I just had to find the scarf."

"Ok, sweety."

You laughed quietly with Donnie as walked him to your window, "So, I'll see you tommorow?"

"Yeah. yeah, see you tommorow."

You smiled as you watched him leave, not moving from your window untill you couldn't see him anymore.

.........................................

#rottmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt #x reader #donnie x reader #gn reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt 2012 #donnie 2012

544 notes · View notes