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mc-lukanette · 6 months

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A Horror-ble Idea

Marinette paced in thought just outside the Liberty, a box clutched tightly to her chest. She knew it must’ve looked silly overthinking any sort of meeting with a close friend like Luka, but it was hard when it felt so much bigger this time.

Truthfully, she was perfectly happy where they were. They considered themselves best friends, frequently spent time together even if it was simply sitting next to each other while doing their respective hobbies, and were more physically comfortable than she imagined most friends were with each other.

At the same time, there are only so many instances where they could feed each other, “accidentally” brush hands, and cuddle without meaning to that she could still think, okay, but that doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

She tried to excuse it to herself for a while - all childhood friends are probably like that, Luka is just really affectionate, I’m just reading too much into it - but she had overthought it long enough. She wanted him, and if she was going to tell Luka how she felt then she wanted it to be grand.

Brave, to be more precise.

She must’ve been walking back and forth for a while, as footsteps from the Liberty signaled that someone had heard the constant clacking of her shoes. She paused, turning her attention to the sound to see Luka appear. He gave her a questioning look, probably waiting for her to speak first.

Having not planned for any of this yet (in her defense, she did think she could come up with something on the walk there), Marinette could only wave and greet him with, “P-permission to board!”

Embarrassment hit a second later, a groan escaping her as she hid her face with the box.

Luka chuckled good-naturedly, replying, “Aye aye,” before the sound of him setting up the gangplank followed.

Only when the sounds stopped did Marinette look up and walk across to him, nerves thankfully easing as they always tended to when she was close enough to him.

“Hi,” she greeted properly this time, complete with a shy smile.

“Hey,” he greeted back, glancing at the box in curiosity but not prodding about it.

Fidgeting with it as an excuse to have something to do with her hands and keep herself from launching her body at him in a hug (later, she told herself), she explained, “Um, I won’t be here for long. I just wanted to ask you if you could hang out later tonight?”

“Sure—”

“For a sleepover?”

He paused, caught off guard. “Sleepover? Like when we were kids?”

She nodded. “Mhm. I missed doing them, so…”

“No, I…I missed them too,” he admitted with a reassuring smile, a hand going to the back of his head to toy with his hair.

“Really?” she blurted out, then immediately scolded herself for it. It was Luka, who always said how he felt. Of course he meant it. “That’s great!” She bounced in place, excited. “I already picked out a horror movie for us to watch!”

It took a second for the words “horror movie” to register with Luka. Having been friends for long, Marinette could read all the concern on his face and naturally understood it. Everyone knew that she hated horror movies and generally couldn’t deal with blood or gore, but it was all part of her plan.

At the very least, it was cute to see him worry.

“It’ll be okay!” She raised the box to him, wiggling it temptingly. “I even made us matching pajamas for it—!”

“Sounds good,” Luka cut in without missing a beat, the box suddenly gone from her hands. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

——

“And then—!” Marinette pumped her fists up in determination, staring at herself in the mirror for her second pep talk of that day. “I’ll impress him by showing off that I can handle horror movies!”

She looked off to the side, the back of her hand to her forehead as she imitated Luka’s voice to say, “Wow, Marinette, how’d you manage to get over your fear of horror?”

Reaching blindly behind her with her free hand, she pulled her chair close so she could collapse on it, the hand on her forehead dropping to her heart. She replied to herself, “Yeah, there were so many scary things in horror movies, but nothing was scarier than being apart from you for even a second.”

A moment of silence passed. Marinette covered her face and blushed, kicking her legs out wildly at the idea of trying to flirt like that.

This is no time to second guess yourself, she thought. You already went through so much effort!

Which was true. She’d been priming herself for eventual horrors to heighten her tolerance for it. She’d even gone so far as to look through Gabriel Agreste’s upcoming fashion line!

Truly, the deepest level of horror one could imagine.

——

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Luka asked, almost pouting at her from his place on the couch.

“Yes!” She actually pouted at him, waving the question off. “I’m sure! You’re the guest!”

Making sure they had snacks and drinks for the both of them wasn’t an issue. She’d already prepared all of it beforehand, the biggest problem only being carrying the full tray to the table. As for the horror movie, she’d borrowed one from Juleka, who gave her a weird look but otherwise didn’t question it.

After bringing the tray all the way to the table, Marinette went back to shut off the lights, then hurried over to jump onto the couch and join Luka. On instinct, she snuggled against his side, hand resting against his thigh to press against the fuzzy fabric of his fluffy light blue pajama pants. He responded in kind, his arm wrapping around her waist while his hand secured her side.

…Maybe I really am stupid after all, she thought, realizing the position they were so comfortably in. Swallowing her hope down for the time being, she reached out for the remote and started the movie, Luka’s hand gravitating back to its spot at her side when she leaned back against the couch again.

The film itself started out tame enough. She wasn’t sure if Juleka had given her a more delicate horror movie (not that she thought there was such a thing in the first place: horror was horror) or if it was a slow build, but nonetheless steeled herself for the worst.

All she had to do was last for the whole movie without screaming. It was only an hour and a half or so, after all. Even if there was a lot of blood or something, surely she could handle that. Luka even bled once when they were eight and she’d patched him up with an assortment of cat-themed bandages without fainting even once.

She was sobbing hysterically and had nightmares about it afterwards, but still.

And at the end of the day, even horror movies were an art form just like any other movie, and she loved art. She could appreciate it artistically, thus distancing herself entirely from the—

…W-wow, they… they really made that look realistic. That corpse is… the visual artist did a great job on that. Yep. You can tell that body is definitely very, very dead…

——

Thirty minutes in, and Marinette was decidedly not okay. As she’d (poorly) prepared for, the movie did in fact have a deceptively-innocent opener, and everything after that was a rollercoaster that only went downwards.

Though at least with a rollercoaster, she’d be screaming in delight rather than terror, and she had to bite down her jumpscare-induced scream to the point where she thought she might bite her tongue in half.

Naturally, the mental image that thought brought only sent another wave of disgust through her. What started as her trying to appreciate the movie as an artist quickly turned her into a baker stacking on layers of denial and biting into a cake flavored with nausea.

Nausea on an empty stomach because she hadn’t even touched their snacks and drinks, frozen in place and unable to do much of anything.

She wanted out, her free hand squeezing the poor couch cushion underneath her to no reprieve. The only thing grounding her was Luka, his hand tight against her side and almost hurting her in the process, but that actually made it worse. If he were squeezing her side, the only explanation she could muster was that he knew she was still struggling and opted to comfort her wordlessly rather than address it and potentially embarrass her.

Trying to keep her face as neutral as possible, she looked up at Luka - partly to make an excuse about how she was only shaking because it’s so cold no really but also to get some relief with his handsome face - yet actual words ended up failing her at the sight.

Even in the limited illumination provided by the TV, it was obvious that Luka’s face had paled. His pupils were shrunken in as he stared ahead at the screen and he was blatantly biting down on his bottom lip. Even glancing at the hand that wasn’t against her side, it was in a tight enough fist that his knuckles were white.

“L-L…Luka…?”

He also had never failed to respond whenever she called his name before, not even once. It occurred extremely belatedly to her that Luka wouldn’t have let this go on for so long had she been as scared as she is, and the shaking that should’ve given it away was ignored based on one factor.

Luka was shaking as well.

“L-Luka!”

Movement returned to her body, her hand coming undone with her death grip on the cushion. Not caring nor particularly thinking about which button she might push, she leaned forward and slammed her fist down on the remote.

She only wanted it to end.

The movie blipped off, the sound cutting and screen flickering before turning black. It left them both in darkness for a second until a white text box appeared, telling her that there was no input detected.

The little bit of light allowed her to fix her shaky gaze on Luka again, who snapped back to reality at the realization that the movie had abruptly ended. She even caught the moment that his confusion turned to dread at what she must’ve witnessed to have done what she did.

“M-Marinette…” He trailed off, struggling for a response.

“You…y-you hate h-horror too?”

He avoided her eyes, staring off at things she was certain he couldn’t make out in the darkness. Her hand was still on his thigh and she squeezed for the both of them.

“…I thought you weren’t s-scared of horror movies anymore,” Luka eventually replied.

She couldn’t tell if he was evading or warming her up to his answer, but the night had gone in none of the ways she was hoping. Instead of a romantic atmosphere, they were both anxious and sick from what they’d just watched.

Exasperated at the situation, Marinette threw her arms up and admitted, “O-of course I’m still scared! Horror is—” She hesitated, mind slogging along pathetically slow, and ended up settling for, “—well, h-horrible! I just w-wanted to impress you!”

“You—you didn’t have to do that.” Luka shook his head. “I-I’m already impressed by you.”

Except that wasn’t all, was it? She was going above and beyond for a confession and now it was ruined. She pouted, lamenting, “Yeah, b-but…”

Rubbing her side with one hand, he used his other to pick up the one nearest to him. He took a long breath, trying to steady his voice before speaking again. “I’m sorry. This is my fault too. I…I should’ve said something.”

“Why d-didn’t you?”

It bothered her more than she’d admit out loud that she hadn’t known. She believed strongly that friends - even couples - should be allowed to have their own secrets, but not knowing about a fear, or at least what he hated? She’d hope to know those things even if it was simply to help him avoid them.

Luka took another breath, the words apparently difficult to get out otherwise. Meeting her eyes, he began with, “…You’re not the type of person to play a one-man band.”

“H-huh?”

“You bring so much beautiful music to everyone’s lives, but not everyone does the same for you. It takes a lot of effort to learn an instrument and play to someone else’s tune.”

She blushed. She couldn’t speak about the supposed beautiful music she brought, but it did take a lot of thought and determination to truly learn about someone. That didn’t make it work for her, but that didn’t mean it was easy either.

Luka turned to face her more, leaning down to be more level with her. Strands of blue and black brushed against one another as he pressed his forehead to hers, hesitant in his movements but passionate all the same. Marinette pressed back, welcoming the warmth and the rare contact that they hadn’t shared before.

He continued in a whisper, “Duets take everything up a level. It’s not enough to know or play the same way you always do: you have to be there for your partner and try to play the notes they can’t.”

There was something tender - vulnerable, even - in his words. Gears turned, things clicking into place in her head, and sky blue eyes reflected ocean blue ones as her hopes finally registered to her as reality.

Marinette reached up with both hands, grabbing onto Luka’s shoulders and pushing herself against him. He couldn’t even get her name out of his mouth before she used her weight to knock him down, leaving him breathless and laying against the cushions while her face was buried against his chest.

“I love you too,” she murmured, not caring if it was muffled or not; she knew he would hear her just fine.

She was close enough that she could feel his heart racing, his hands moving to rest on her back and keep her there like he wanted her to hear. She gripped the fabric of his shirt, her face hot at knowing that the heart rate had nothing to do with the movie they’d just watched.

Hers didn’t either.

“Let’s not do this ever again,” she said lightheartedly. “I’ve seen enough horror for the rest of my life.”

Luka hummed in agreement. “I don’t think that’ll stop Jule from watching them when I’m at home.”

“Then don’t be home. You can come here.”

He placed a hand down on the cushion, pushing himself up and wrapping his other arm fully around her to maintain their hold. “I’ll be home no matter what.”

She giggled affectionately, bringing her arms fully around him to return the embrace.

“…Marinette,” he began cautiously.

“Mm?”

He rubbed her back, the shake in his voice returning as he asked, “Can I stay…?”

The question sounded silly on the surface. They’d already agreed to have a sleepover and she’d had her lounge chair set up already to be as comfortable as possible, but his tone gave away the meaning underneath. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing.

“…Yeah. Please.”

——

After putting their untouched snacks and drinks away (a consciously empty stomach was better than a forced empty stomach if the nausea didn’t go away), the two went upstairs, brushed their teeth and washed their hands with the sink in Marinette’s room, and completely passed by the lounge chair.

Luka settled himself into her bed like he was afraid of breaking it, yet somehow looked like he belonged there. Marinette slid in right next to him, legs wiggling and hands eagerly reaching out to welcome him. Absolutely delighted, he shifted closer, allowing her to roam his chest with her hands and feel the fabric of the shirt she made that he was so proudly wearing.

“Did me getting hurt back then really make you more scared of blood?” he wondered aloud, continuing a conversation they’d had while getting ready for bed. It was a strangely good distraction even if the subject was still technically horror-based.

“W-we were eight!” Marinette excused, faintly embarrassed. “I didn’t know how the human body worked and I thought you didn’t have that much blood to spare!”

“Because I was a little pale?” he guessed, as if this was all intensely interesting to him. It was cute.

“No? You were…” She ran a hand through his hair as an example. “You were so pillow-y and soft, inside and out? You were sweet, and your hair was even thicker and fluffier back then.” She giggled sheepishly at her younger self. “Honestly, I thought you were made of marshmallow?”

He laughed. “I thought that would’ve been you.”

“Luka!”

“I’m serious,” he insisted. With added amusement to his tone, he added, “Am I still pillow-y and soft?”

Unconsciously, Marinette swallowed and pulled her hand away from his chest. “E-erm… more or less?”

“More or less?” he prodded.

Feeling attacked even by his genuine curiosity, Marinette rolled over with a huff. “T-the softness moves around from different places, but it’s still the same amount?”

Luka followed after her, arms going around her waist so he could spoon her. “I’m just glad that not much has changed.”

“Y-yeah.”

He wasn’t wrong. She figured that they must be dating now, yet it really felt like not much has changed. More of the same tended to be considered a negative thing, but she only shivered in excitement thinking about having that with Luka.

More creative sessions, more physical contact, more Luka. It was such an alluring thought.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Hm~?”

Rubbing along the arms around her waist in a way she hoped was reassuring, she clarified, “Did something make you scared of horror? Or just more scared?”

“Ah.” Luka smiled sadly. “That was Jule. I never told her.”

“Juleka?” Marinette turned her head to try and see his expression, growing worried. “D-did something bad happen to her? You don’t have to talk about it if—”

“No, nothing happened.” He briefly shifted positions to place a kiss to her temple; a wordless apology for accidentally making her fret over him. “She loved horror movies, even when we were little. I went to bed first, and I didn’t even know she was watching anything.”

Marinette imagined that for a moment, then shuddered, realizing where this was going. “L-Luka…”

“I don’t even know what movie it was, but I heard the screaming.” Luka paused, still sounding haunted by the memory. “I’m sure there must’ve been something that should’ve told me that it wasn’t real, but…”

“You were still a little boy,” she finished, “and it sounded like someone was attacking your family, the only two people you had in your life.”

He held her tighter, nodding. “I found out it was just a movie when I went to look, but I never forgot the feeling.”

Marinette whimpered. “T-that’s…that’s not fair!”

“Jule didn’t know,” he defended immediately. “She probably thought I was asleep and just kept the volume—”

“No! Because—” She squirmed helplessly. “Because I can’t go back in time and meet you sooner! You didn’t have any friends to talk to or comfort you!”

He chuckled, the heaviness in his voice lessening. “Maybe, but you can do whatever you want with me now?”

With a huff, Marinette decided to do just that. She twisted around so Luka’s grip loosened, taking his face in her hands so she could kiss the bridge of his nose. He hummed in content, clearly approving of it.

Then, pouting, she thought aloud, “My story seems a little silly after that.”

“It’s not,” he argued, back on the defensive. “I love that you worried about me so much, even if I don’t like how it hurt you.” Frowning in concern, he reached up to her face and observed, “You still look worn out from the movie too.”

“Y-you do too,” she noted, seeing blatantly on his face that he wasn’t just tired from a need to sleep.

The back of his fingers brushed her lower eyelid and cheek in concern, the close proximity allowing her to smell the blend of his scent and the soap they’d used at her sink. She caught his hand before he could pull it back, intertwining their fingers and bringing them to her lips without quite kissing them. She returned his gesture, easily sliding her hand to the side of his head and running her thumb across whatever skin it could reach from there. He relaxed, eyes half-lidded and content.

She took in the scent again, this time being mixed in with her own hand’s fragrance like some form of soothing balm. Of course, Luka had used the same soap as her before whenever they hung out at the same house, but it felt more intimate this time.

The soap was like a compliment, or like the bridge between their respective scents; the needle between the seamstress and thread or the strings between a guitar and its musician. It occurred to her that it would always be like that if they lived together someday, and the mental image of Luka waking up to her in the morning, blissfully taking in the smell of the hair products she used despite using the same himself, was almost too much for her.

“Marinette?” Luka called out softly, the hand she was holding gripping a little tighter in an unspoken question.

She didn’t know what her face looked like, but she must’ve had a lot of emotions on display. She refused to be “stupid” anymore, not wanting to delay their understanding of one another like they had before.

“…T-they won’t be your only family,” she dared to say, whispering but simultaneously speaking with her whole heart. “Not forever.”

His lips parted in surprise, eyes scanning her to confirm what she’d definitely meant.

Their hands between their bodies suddenly felt like an obstacle, Marinette letting him go so she could cup his cheeks.

“I’ll say something first next time,” she declared, given that he’d confessed before her despite her plans, “a-and it definitely won’t be over a horror movie.”

She kissed him instead of clarifying further, certain that he got the message. Luka’s body came alive at the motion, legs tangling and a hand moving her wrist to invite her touch to his neck.

Judging by how he kissed back, he’d accepted the challenge.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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wisecrackingeric-2 · 5 months

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One question that’s been on my mind a lot lately whenever I’m trying to analysis Luis’ childhood is,,,,,, did Luis know or understand why his Grandfather did what he had to do???????

Cuz like,,,, obviously Luis was there when the wolves attacked him- in fact it’s even implied to have been Luis’ fault somehow, as he probably distracted his Grandfather and let his guard down like kids do and this left him open to being attacked by the wolves- but did Luis understand why Bitores had to burn down his home with his Grandfather inside?????? Surely he didn’t read the notes his Grandfather made, right????? And he was, what, 10-12 years old at most??????? He was just a little kid!!!!!!!! I can’t even IMAGINE what must’ve been running through his mind as he watched his childhood home and everything he loved inside of it burn down!!!!!!

BUT EVEN BEFORE THAT TOO- can you guys imagine how Luis must’ve felt watching the ONE PERSON he has in his life slowly deteriorate from the wolf bite??????? Can you imagine how confused he must’ve been?????? Did ANY other villagers help him??? Did Méndez ever come over and offer his support?????? How quickly did his Grandfather deteriorate?? Days???? Weeks??????

Not to mention the fact that Luis probably internalised the situation as being HIS FAULT. Because in his child mind, who else is there to blame?? How else is he supposed to rationalise the situation in a way a kid can understand???? He was obviously a bit of a child prodigy but kids are still kids who will latch onto anything that can logistically explain a situation

So how did he feel watching MÉNDEZ burn down his childhood home with his Grandfather inside???? The ONE OTHER PERSON who ever showed him care and affection- who listened to him ramble about his tales of chivalry- was also the same person responsible for burning down everything he loved. Did he understand WHY he had to do that?????? Did Méndez ever tell him??????? Did his GRANDFATHER ever warn him??????????? Did he KNOW what was about to happen, or was he left thinking this was all spontaneous and unexplainable????? Luis and his Grandfather were kind of implied to have been outcasts of the village- so I can only imagine this must’ve been an even bigger stab to the back (hah)

((I also think it’s. So. S O UNBELIEVEBLY POIGNANT that Luis was described to have just. Stood there. Staring at his home burning down. Completely unmoving. Like he didn’t even CRY. NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE TALK ABOUT THAT DETAIL MAN THATS SO DEVASTATING???????? HE WAITED THERE UNTIL M O R N I N G TO LEAVE????????????????? I WANNA MAKE A WHOLE POST ON THAT BY ITSELF THATS SO S A D ))

But anyways back on track- did Luis ever hold any RESENTMENT towards his Grandfather after he’d left Valdelobos and made a life for himself??? Cuz that’s kind of what I always thought for a while, just off of gut instincts alone- did he feel resentment that his Grandfather never showed him the outside world????? That he burned himself to the ground without saying anything???????? Did he ever internalise that grief and anger and self-resentment????????

Or was it the opposite????? Did he hold his Grandfather so near and dear to his heart that he dedicated EVERYTHING he ever did to him????? All the things he dreamed of doing as a child- all the things his Grandfather encouraged- he finally got to achieve it all. He finally got to become a prestigious scientist and work on a cure for the very things that took his Grandfathers life- only for that to come crumbling down around him too. Just like how his home burnt.

And when he tries to return home, tries to find solace and comfort where he once grew up- instead he finds a completely unrecognisable, cult-driven village that forces him to make the same things that killed his Grandfather. That’s DEVASTATING MAN.

Did he ever get to read his Grandfathers journal entries???????? If he did, how did he react, if he reacted at all?????????? Would he have been angry???????? In denial??????????? Or would he have just stood there silently just like he did when his home burnt down for the first time????????

There’s also just. The devastating fact that if I Leon hadn’t found him, Luis would have died in the exact same place his Grandfather did all those years ago. That cycle of pain would never have ended and he’d be buried nameless alongside his mistakes.

And on kind of a related note, I find it so interesting that Luis chose Leon, Ashley and Ada to be the stars in his version of Don Quixote- when, assumedly, the only other person he’d ever truly expressed his love for that book towards was his Grandfather and Mendez. I think that’s just. SO TELLING MAN.

AND and on a similar note, again, Mendez was implied to be an almost secondary father figure to Luis- so hell!!!! Imagine how he must’ve felt seeing him become so beyond recognition!!!!!!!! Again, would he have understood why????????? How would he have reacted???????????

Tl;dr:

I wanna know if baby Luis understood why his Grandfather did what he had to do. I wanna know if he knew the reasons behind why his home burnt down, or if he thought it was simply just a cruel twist of fate.

#I don’t know why but when I first watched a playthrough of this game I thought Luis’ grandfather never actually had an illness and he just #died of his own paranoia #I know that’s not true or at least highly unlikely but idk it’s an interesting thing to explore #you can also explore the aspect that Luis’ mother died during childbirth and technically THAT was the first life he ever took #but I digress #luis serra #luis sera #resident evil #luis serra navarro #luis sera navarro #re4r

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mytragedyperson · 7 months

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Thoughts I had while reading TCF chapter 11

Love that Ron, after being like huh, the young master seems to be scared of me, I wonder if he knows something, turned around and went, guess it’s time to talk to him hunting rabbits. He enjoys teasing his young master so much and really who can blame him? Cale’s reactions are so cute, who wouldn’t want to tease him?

Cale: I want Ron and Beacrox as far away from me as possible

Also Cale: let’s take them to the capital with us.

You’re sending mixed signals again, Cale. Poor Ron doesn’t know if you’re terrified of him and want him nowhere near you, or not scared of him and want him around constantly. You tell him to go away, then say you want him and his son to go to the capital with you. That’s not how scared people usually react to the thing or person that scares them.

Also I didn’t talk about this before but, in the chapter where KRS!Cale and Beacrox interact for the fist time, Beacrox must’ve been so confused. Here is his young master, who has never cared about him and, from what we can gather, always said his food was trash, not only coming to the kitchen himself, not only showing up with someone with the aura of the forest of darkness, but also telling him, Beacrox to cook for Choi Han and himself, AND complimenting his cooking. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t pass out from shock or confusion. But tbf I think everyone was kinda confused in that scene, everyone except Cale. Choi Han is wondering why this random obvious noble is being so nice to him, and maybe even finds it in himself to be slightly curious about what he was doing in the random residential area near the gate. Ron is confused and shocked about Choi Han, probably wondering where and how his young master found this guy, and then has the same shock as Beacrox in terms of Cale complimenting his cooking and everything. Hans is also confused by these things and possibly wondering how and why he hasn’t seen tables flipped or bottles thrown by Cale yet. And the poor nameless knight has no idea what’s going on and may also be worried that he’s technically disobeying a direct order by following them considering Cale told him not to follow them. So yeah a lot of confusion, shock, worry, curiosity, and Cale is just oblivious to it as always.

Hans: raises a valid concern about Beacrox being busy

Cale: bullshits answer and tells him to just do it

Also possibly the one time someone actually questions Cale directly. I now understand why it doesn’t happen more. You know, there are some times, early on that I just imagine Hans just sigh in his head, and it’s the most long-suffering sighs ever. This is one of those times.

But I must say I do adore Ron and Baecrox’s father-son relationship. Like how happy he is that his son is coming with them. Ron and Beacrox, man. In this household, we love Ron and Beacrox. Also the fact that Hans can’t even argue with this, considering Ron is right there and not disagreeing. You can’t explain why Ron’s son probably shouldn’t go to the capital with them when Ron is right there and going to the capital. Poor Hans.

Also the fact that every time Cale says something nice about Beacrox, or his cooking, whoever he says it to is immediately like I’ll be sure to tell him. Was this a thing? Was Beacrox over here, just distressed that the young master didn’t like his cooking? Or is this just a courtesy thing like compliments to the chef. I once again imagine a deep internal sigh but this time it’s Cale because he can’t seem to say anything nice about anyone without them finding out. Beacrox doesn’t need to know every nice thing he says about him. But he does. Because he deserves praise and compliments. I hope this never ends, they have weekly gossip sessions or something where they just talk about all the nice things Cale said about or to them, and all the nice things he did. They’ve realised Cale doesn’t like to acknowledge it so they hide away somewhere for their gossip sessions, and the kids come and join in, and it’s a lowkey (platonic) simping session. Cale is, of course oblivious, and whenever there’s danger these turn into how do we keep Cale safe meetings. They’re all busy people so can’t always be there for every meeting but they try to attend in some fashion at least once a month. Clopeh, of course, somehow manages to attend every single session, in person, and takes notes on everything.

Honestly it’s the little things that make me love Cale, like how, when he’s talking about taking Beacrox to the capital, it’s not just I can get rid of them, it’s also Beacrox should enjoy traveling to the capital and Ron will be happy to have his son there. These small moments and thoughts, that are so easily glossed over, these small unselfish moments amidst the bullshit, where it shows that he cares about them and their opinions and feelings, are the moments that show how good a person he really is. And like how when he first meets, he feels guilty about how nervous the baker is due to his reputation.

Do the bakers think he’s giving the bread to people in the slums? That would be the reasonable assumption, right? He comes to their shops, buys all the bread, takes the bread to the slums, and comes back with no bread. They must do, right? Assume that he’s giving the bread to those living in the slums? The bakers probably assume they’re contributing to something good, and they kind of are. Thanks to their bread, Cale gets the Indestructible Shield, and thus saves the people in the capital. Can you imagine if they found out their bread was partially responsible for Cale saving thos in the capital? Like I know that sounds really dumb because, well, if Cale didn’t get the bread from there he’d get a different food from someone else but the point is, he uses their bread, the bread they’ve mad so I choose to say that makes them partially responsible for Cale getting the shield and anything that happens as a result of that. Some heroes swing swords and fight enemies, others bake bread. Him saying he’ll be back when he wants to eat the bread again. I’m sorry these bakers are just not buying that Cale ate 3 big bags of bread by himself in the slums. And then he wonders why everyone starts thinking he’s a good person.

Also it took him, what, 3 days to turn this baker from being scared of him to being comfortable enough to be casual and honest about wanting more money? God I love Cale Henituse/kim Rok Soo.

Unnamed bakers appreciation. You didn’t get a name but your presence in this story made me smile. I, too, hope Cale one day returns to your shop to spend more money. I feel like he does at some point, but I don’t know how much is real canon and how much is me misremembering things from fanfics as canon. Does he actually help someone with their business, like help them with financial backing or was that a fanfic? Idk but I look forward to finding out.

The second Cale realise On and Hong were actually homeless was the second he decided once and for all to adopt them. He already wanted to but this is the moment he said fuck it I’m doing it and no one can stop me. Also at least one nosy person must live in these slums, and must have seen Cale giving them stuff every time he came to the slums, and then saw these children disappear. What that person thinks happened remains a mystery.

Cale is the king of pretending not to notice/know things. He’s also the king of actually not noticing/knowing things.

The Indestructible Shield is so polite. Even though they’re starving they still remember to say please. wait actually when you read the Indestructible Shield begging for more food, what tone did you imagine? Like was it quite manic and urgent? Or did it start weak and gradually get stronger as they slowly recovered their grudge? Or was it something else. Maybe a mixture of the two actually, starts off weak, but gradually gets stronger and more manic.

Congratulations to the third baker for making Indestructible Shield’s favourite bread.

AU where Indestructible Shield is a food critic. Ooh, all the Ancient powers are people and they found baby Kim Rok Soo and raised him, and he ended up befriending the other characters, including original Cale Henituse.

If this is Indestructible Shield’s reaction to bread, I wonder how they’d react to cake. Also how do they know it’s called bread. Cale might’ve said it, that’s the only answer I have.

Honestly Cale just standing there, listening to them talk about bread, while politely nodding, without interrupting them straight away just sounds precious to me. Is there a manhwa illustration of this and, if so, where can I find it.

I love how anytime the Forest of Darkness is mentioned it’s in relation to something bad, and then later Cale just tuns around and goes, well, time to make the Forest of Darkness our home and, having not actually read that far, I can only assume this turned out to be more helpful for their victory than he anticipated.

Also Cale didn’t have to compliment their evaluation but he did, so another piece of proof for Cale actually being nice. Why am I keeping track of this? My brain said to, and I refuse to argue.

Also if I could find the manhwa page for the man-eating tree’s transformation, I’d appreciate that, because that sounds pretty. Or fanart. I just wanna see some of these visuals. And also any art of Cale with the shield itself. Man I’m gonna have to look for fanart after this

Honestly, the indestructible shield sounds so pretty and comforting. I think I’d want that one, just so I could look at it. It just sound so useful.

Just think, the only reason Cale survived getting all these ancient powers is because he wanted to strengthen the first one he got, and decided to get Vitality of the Heart next. Sure, this might be because it was on the way, but it’s still interesting that, if he’d not gotten this one next, he would’ve died. Again, the god of luck has a love hate relationship with Cale and it shows.

And he still thinks of Choi Han killing him, even though Choi Han has literally zero reason to. I’m going to keep note of this because I want to see if and when this changes and how long it takes in terms of chapters.

Cale: it seems too divine

Also Cale: collects divine items

Nope, not many reasons at all for Cale to use this shield. Only once or twice.

Small and faint. No one will notice. Hmm. Don’t mind me, just leaving this here, no reason, no reason at all.

Cale really enjoys patting things to show appreciation and stuff. Like the baker, the former man-eating tree. The cat tribe siblings. Raon.

Also he never bothers getting the carriage because he wants On and Hong to be able to follow him so he can pull the these strays followed me home act.

Is that a stupid question? Asking your young master what’s going on when they suddenly arrive home with 2 random stray cats? Did original Cale even like cats? We know Kim Rok Soo claimed not to but I’m inclined to believe he wasn’t being fully honest there.

Wait, so, did he not see the cats before Cale gave them to him? Was he asking why he was walking home in the rain? I guess the random kittens answers that?

Hans really is one of the most relatable characters here honestly.

Hans respects the kittens more than he respects Cale. That’s so valid of him.

“whatever you want” as if he didn’t just put the kittens in his arms and tell him to take them. Just admit you want him to take care of them, it’s ok, we won’t judge you.

Poor Hans, he’s so confused, Cale puts him through so much and explains none of it. Also poor On and Hong, they must’ve been so surprised he knew it was them. He’s so mean, teasing them like that.

Idk man. Is it the normal thing to assume the two siblings from the slums, and the two cats you see every day are the same? Maybe in a fantasy world. Oh well. This is why Cale’s smarter than me.

Also where did he get the pasta? He didn’t mention stopping somewhere to get it and they said he left home early. I know he probably did just buy it, but my heart is saying he woke up early and prepared it himself secretly. That probably didn’t happen, but it sounds cute.

Yes. Most people would assume you wouldn’t know the things you know. And you know that. You just enjoy surprising people. Istg he’s such a little shit.

And then there’s just Hans, standing there, holding the kittens, completely confused but so used to never getting proper answers, probably thinking, “know what?” and wondering why he appears to be asking the cats this. Oh Hans.

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tender-rosiey · 2 years

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𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐒 | gojo x f!reader

| pt 6 | - | pt 7 | — [SERIES MASTERLIST]

something has to be wrong with gojo.

he is sweating and for the first time in a long while is actually nervous. he doesn’t know why, but the only thing he knows is that you guys are going on a date today and he is super excited, yet nervous.

it was as if it was just yesterday when he was only doing it for “research” but now he feels like everything you do affects him in a way he can’t give justice to its description. if had to put it into words though then he feels like his chest can burst at any moment and that he just has the strong urge to hold you, but he realizes that it’s not yet.

he can’t do any of that just yet.

you, thankfully after two months of platonic dates and begging, considered him a friend and someone you can joke with freely and smile without glaring daggers at him.

he was so sure back than that if looks could kill, every time you noticed him he would be dead 17 times over along with his whole lineage.

“hello, pretty lady!” you hear him yell and look back to see him waving his hand around.

you give him a small smile before greeting him back, “hey gojo; what’s up?”

he takes a seat beside you, “oh nothing! I am supposedly on a date with a an absolutely attractive lady; have you seen her anywhere?”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

he rolls his eyes, whining, “you must’ve at least caught a glimpse of her in the windows.”

at that you quirk an eyebrow, “how exactly?”

“don’t you see your reflection in windows?”

you smack his shoulder lightly and he laughs, “I am very charming, I know,” he boasts before calling for the waiter.

you both order what you want and are now left to each other’s company.

“there is something on my mind,” he asks and you hum for him to continue, “how did you convince the elders to cancel the marriage?”

you recall the events before laughing, “I don’t think you want to know.”

“but I do!!”

“okay, hold your horses, kiddo,” you say.

“I am literally older than you; you’re pretty rude,” he grumbles.

at that time, the both of you were very much at each other’s throat and it was more than obvious.

you went to the elders one day, fuming and at your limit with that asshole.

“I demand a divorce,” you say, your words clear and sharp.

the old men gaped, eyes widening at your confidence and rather brazen attitude.

your grandfather is the one to speak up, “ you seem to have lost your manners in the time you spent with that imbecile of a kid, y/n.”

“don’t test me, old man; the only reason I am not chopping your head off is my dad.”

your father was always against whatever the elders decided, but because of his father, he was rendered useless.

“if you don’t let me divorce him; I swear to you, you will regret it.”

“what could a frail and weak woman like yourself do?” you hear one of the elders say with the others joining him with laughter.

that day, you left the room with divorce papers, and left behind 13 injured elders who dare not speak your name if questioned how they were hurt.

“that’s badass! like super cool!” gojo muses as he laughs, imagining the scene.

you take a sip of your drink, “obviously; you should’ve seen their faces.”

his laughter quiets down, “but really, that’s pretty cool of you; how did you not get an execution?

“threatened them,” you say, continuing to sip on your drink.

gojo waits a bit before talking, “I really wish that we would’ve been by each other side back then, like actually and by our decisions,” he says softly like it’s a secret between the both of you.

you aren’t used to him being like this, not one bit so you flick his forehead, “what’s in the past, stays in the past; we can’t change it. we can only focus on the future.”

he rubs his forehead, half-heartedly glaring at you.

gojo nods before his hand itches towards yours slowly, asking for permission.

he feels his heart do a little dance when you intertwine your pinkies because as small as the actions and touch is, it still means something and it’s proof that you guys have finally moved forward in your relationship.

a little part of him now feels guilty, isn’t he leading you on?

another part of him thinks that he isn’t.

why? because he already got all that he needs to know long ago, then what’s he waiting for?

is he unable to break it to you? especially after you finally let him in?

or is he falling for you?

he wants to shake his head at the thought, to deny it because as empathetic as he can get at times, he knows better than to let strong emotions take over his being.

he decides that he just considers you someone he can trust and rely on, a friend.

he also knows that if he continues falling for you then there’s no way out.

gojo starts seeing you in every part of his life after that date, thinking about you and how things would’ve been if you guys were together all this while.

how would it have been if you spent 9 years in love? where would the both of you be now? would it feel even better than this? is there any better?

would all your dates be filled with laughter and light-hearted talk that makes you both forget about the corrupted world you’re living in?

the strongest knows love is a twisted curse, but he can’t help but yearn for yours even silently.

“what’s got your mind in a twist, gojo?” he hears your voice, now his body slightly tenses but then quickly relaxes after it.

he was sitting on top of the jujutsu building, silently wondering how you knew he would be here but quickly pushes it to the back of his mind.

he laughs, “I am thinking about how pretty you are.”

“I will punch you.”

he doesn’t know how to tell you that what he told you is the truth. he is sure that you would dismiss it even if he assured you that he isn’t just flirting.

gojo is knocked back to reality when you sit beside him, “the kids are getting really strong; I am proud that our hard word is paying off.”

“you mean, MY hardwork. I am the main teacher,” he interjects.

you scoff, “you are barely here, you ass.”

silence fills the air and gojo decides that he needs to tell you about everything before you find out in an uglier way.

“y/n, I—“

“gojo, I need you to come to the clinic,” shoko shows up and catches the both of you.

he grumbles, “is it urgent?”

she nods, before she disappears, leaving the sound of her clicking heels.

you usher him to go and he does as told, soon after they are at the clinic.

“I can’t believe you!” she yells and gojo can already predict what she is mad about.

he sighs, “listen, I know—“

“no you don’t!”

his eyebrows furrow, why has everyone been cutting him off lately?

“you lied to me.”

“listen shoko, I know I did, but I was going to tell you anyways.”

“when?” she pressures, “after you get the ‘information’ you want from y/n?”

her heels click harshly on the floor as she is now face to face him him, “this is taking advantage of her.”

“well, I was going to tell her that all about it today, until you cut me off that is.”

shoko is speechless for a moment, “you don’t just tell people that! how do you think she will react?”

“that wasn’t the only thing I was going to tell her about,” he mumbles.

shoko quirks a brow, tone rather challenging, “oh? what were you going to tell her then?”

“you will find out sooner or later,” he concludes before stepping towards the door.

“gojo, don’t fuck it up even more.”

he nods, “you can trust me.”

soon, he is reunited with you on the roof once again.

“Oooo, what’s got your mind in a twist, pretty lady?” he inquires and you huff.

you look at him, dead in the eyes or at least blindfold, “dumb ways to kill gojo satoru.”

“wow, okay.”

“oh yeah! gojo,” you call, and for some reason his heart now flutters when you call his name and he wonders if that fluttering will feel even stronger when you call him by his first name, “why do you wear a blindfold now?”

he laughs, before raising his hands in quotations, “if you stuck around then you would’ve found out.”

“well yeah, but now I am asking so answer me.”

he takes a seat beside you once again, leaning pretty close, “so demanding.”

you swat him away, “just answer the question,” and ignoring the very offended face he is sporting.

he takes his blindfold off and you’re now face to face with his crystalline blue orbs that seemed to capture the entire sky in them.

“why do you think so?” he asks

you hold your chin in a thinking manner before snapping your fingers, “because—“ he anticipates your answer, “children are scared of it!”

he deflates, visibly so too, “no, it’s because it get overbearing having to see everything all at once, all the time.”

“poor you, I guess.”

he grumbles, “and they say I am not empathetic!”

your laughs rings through his head, and he doesn’t want to forget that sound.

will you laugh the same after he tells you the truth of the situation or will those eyes learn to hate him with great passion all over again?

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @bakugossanity @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspen @kisakitwister @iamjustasimpxd @sagejin @evalynne @shuxjodie @amii-babii @literaturememesfordummies @greeniegreengreen @mykyoon @arezhera @carirosesg @akazxii @waosobii @aeanya

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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koutarostiddies · 2 years

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What If...? Part 6

Pt. 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5

Nishinoya and you are best friends and never once questioned anything about your friendship, until a series of questions ended up turning your friendship on it’s head. This will be a multi part fic since it got a bit long. In case anyone is wondering when it’s not reader addressing him, I think it’s less confusing reading ‘Noya’ instead of 'Yuu’ when the sentence has 'you’ in it as well. So for consistency I will do the same for the other characters.

Cw: pregnancy, child birth, baby, kids, parenthood

"What if we have kids?" he asked out of nowhere as you played with Tanaka’s daughter.

“Yuu, um can we do this later?” You avoided his gaze as you helped the toddler place a big puzzle piece down on the board.

This wasn’t the response he expected from you. You had always agreed, always said yes, so why were you avoiding him now? He began to regret never bringing this topic up when you were dating. He didn’t have any firm stance on children, not caring either way, but he knew it was a big decision and something that should’ve been brought up much earlier into the relationship. Not when you were watching someone else’s child.

But it was something he never really thought about until you started to babysit. Never thought about how you’d look as a mother or how he’d be as a father. He knew it would be different than just being the fun uncle to his best friend’s daughter, or even his sister’s kids. He knew it would change both your lives in a big way.

A knock on the door was just the distraction he needed. He jumped up before you had a chance to get up and ran to the door. You watched him knowing very well that the response you gave him must’ve really hurt him. You never really thought about it, never seriously. Since babysitting you’ve warmed up to the idea, but never brought it up to him. You knew he loved to travel and you had already talked about travelling a bit before really settling down. How would a baby even factor into that?

“How’s daddy’s little Princess?” Tanaka scooped up his daughter, pressing kisses to her chubby cheeks as she wiggled in his arms.

“Papa, I made puzzles with auntie. Look!” She wiggled out of his grasp and ran to the puzzle you had helped put together.

“Oh, it’s really beautiful. Do you want to show mama, later?”

“Yeah!” The toddler jumped up and down excitedly as Tanaka helped you put her toys and belongings in her bag.

“Thanks again for watching her. We really appreciate it.”

“It’s no big deal. You guys need some time to yourselves anyways.”

“Hopefully we get to return the favor soon,” Tanaka laughed as he placed his daughter’s back on his shoulder.

“Goodnight you two.” Tanaka waved at you as he walked out of your home.

The heavy silence that had settled over the two of you was suffocating. You knew you couldn’t avoid him; it would only make things worse. You could feel his gaze on the back of your head as you shook out the blanket and started to fold it.

“Y/N, I’m gonna take a shower and then head to bed.”

“Yuu, you didn’t even eat.” You turned around to look at your husband who refused to make eye contact.

“I’m not hungry. I think I ate too many snacks earlier. I guess that comes with babysitting a toddler.” He gave a half hearted chuckle and made his way to the bathroom.

You plopped yourself down on the couch and tried your best not to cry. Did you fuck up? This was definitely something that would worsen without the proper communication and right now all that was going on in your head was how to talk to him without him avoiding you. Your lip started to quiver as the tears started to build up. It wasn’t a fight but somehow it felt worse. A silent Noya was the worst thing you could’ve ever imagined.

Noya stood in front of the bathtub thinking to himself. He reminded himself that you only said you’d talk to him about it later. You never said no, you weren’t even upset that he asked, just surprised. At least he assumed so since he never got to see your expression. He knew that by avoiding you when you were trying to initiate a conversation was the worst thing he could’ve done. He was acting like a coward–it was a serious subject and he ran off as soon as you opened your mouth. He promised himself as soon as he finished with his shower that he’d talk to you. He turned the knob and stuck out his hand to test the temperature. He smiled as he thought about how hot you loved your showers. It was always a painful experience sharing a shower with you, but he still loved it.

You stood outside the bathroom and listened as the water started to fall. You held your hand up to the door and just listened. “I’m such an idiot. I totally forgot my clothes.” You heard him chastise himself. A smirk played on your lips and you made your way into the bedroom to grab him a change of clothes. He always forgot to bring a fresh pair when he took a shower. Not like you complained when he’d come out with nothing but a towel on, only leading to another shower some time later.

You reached for the doorknob and hesitated for a moment. He was avoiding you because he was scared–maybe even nervous–would sneaking into the bathroom be a wise decision? Fuck it. You quietly turned the door knob and snuck into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You placed his clothes on the counter and waited a while before making yourself known.

“Yuu, I brought you some clean clothes.”

“Holy shit! You can’t just sneak up on people like that!” You laughed as you watched him stumble a bit before reaching out for his hand. “Be careful there, sweetheart. Don’t want my husband dying in the shower before we even try for a baby.”

“What?” He regained his balance and just stared at you as the water dripped down his body.

You smiled at him and stuck out your pinky, “Promise me it won’t ruin anything. That it won’t change things.”

“Can’t promise you it won’t change things because it will. It will definitely change things, but they will be good changes. We’ll be parents to an awesome child, or five.”

“Woah, now. I’m the one popping them out, there is no way I can manage five.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Yuu!”

“I’m joking. C’mon, hop in. I’ll even let you set the temperature to boiling.” He smiled widely as you started to remove your clothes.

“Babe, I promise I’ll love you no matter how many kids we have. I will love you no matter what happens during and after your pregnancy. But I also don’t want you to feel as if you have to say yes to me. I want you to think about this first.” Noya pulled you into the tub and into his arms. “Promise me we’ll have a serious talk about this later, babe.” Noya held out his pinky and you simply hooked yours around his and smiled. “Promise.”

The next few months were full of discussions and planning out for your future. You had finally had the talk and you had both agreed on at least one. Your apartment was definitely big enough for another person so you started to plan out a nursery. You weren’t even pregnant or actively trying, yet little bits and pieces of baby things started to migrate into your home.

“Wanna try tonight?” Noya pressed a kiss to your temple as you flipped through a baby magazine.

“Mm, you’re so romantic, Yuu,” you laughed as you closed the magazine.

“Stop teasing me.” Noya crossed his arms out jutted out his lower lip. “So mean to me. How will our baby deal with such a mean okaa-san?”

“I’m sure their otou-san will make up for it.” You stood up and took his hand. “Now let’s go and make a little Nishinoya.”

Noya looked at the screen and told himself he wasn’t going to cry, that it was just a moving picture and nothing to cry over, but as soon as the technician turned on the sound and he heard the baby’s heartbeat he broke down. You had been trying for a year and started to discuss other options. You both knew that a year wasn’t really that long and it could’ve always been timing, but you didn’t want to turn your back on any other possibilities just in case. Neither of you told your friends that you were planning for a child. You wanted to make it a surprise, because that is how the Nishinoyas worked. You needed to make it a big thing after all.

“Babe, that’s us,” he pointed at the screen. We did that. We made a baby.” Noya wrapped his arms around you and cried. “Thank you so much, y/n.”

“I love you, Yuu.”

“You’re what?!” Noya’s sister stopped in her tracks as soon as he spilled the beans. “You’re lying, Yuu.”

“I’m not. Wanna see?” He looked over to you and you pulled out the sonogram picture. His sister looked at it for a moment and started to cry.

“I can’t believe my baby brother is going to be a dad. Shit,” she sniffled. She went to return the picture to you when you stopped her. “It’s your copy. We made a few to give to family.”

“I…congratulations, y/n.”

“Hey, what about me?” Noya pouted.

“Congratulations, Yuu. You’re going to be wonderful parents.”

“Pregnant? You?”

“Well, not me. Her.” Noya pointed at you as if a clarification was actually needed.

“I didn’t even know you were trying.” Tanaka rubbed his head nervously. “I was beginning to think it would never happen. You guys never even mentioned kids in front of anyone. Figured it was a sore spot or somethin’.”

“We just didn’t want to bring it up until we were actually certain I was pregnant.” Tanaka only nodded and looked back at Kiyoko who was already pregnant with their second child. “You’re gonna make great parents, I just know you will.”

Noya looked at the bundle in your arms. He thought that he couldn't love anyone more than you, but as soon as his newborn daughter made eye contact with him and grabbed his finger with her chubby little hand he was in love. "She looks like you," you whispered so as not to wake the newborn.

"You think so? I think she looks more like you." Noya poked her tiny nose and smiled as she stirred, earning a disapproving glare from you. It took you too long to get her to sleep after everyone had stopped by to visit. If he woke her up now you were going to kick his ass.

"You know, there is something I'd never thought of really saying to you. But now that we're married and have a baby, I just want you to know, I'll guard your backs with my life if I had to."

Your daughter sat next to Tanaka’s youngest as they colored and giggled when Noya came up from behind you. “Here,” he placed a mug of hot tea in front of you and sat down. “They’re having fun.”

“Yeah. Makes me miss when we were kids.” You nudged him with your shoulder.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Noya looked up at you and blushed as soon as you smiled at him.

“What if we had another baby?”

tags: @ladysierra117, @daniagabriela48

#nishinoya yuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x you #nishinoya fluff #haikyuu drabble #hq #what if...?#cw pregnancy #cw childbirth #cw children

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sweetestgrethan · 2 years

Note

imagining ethan calling grayson angel makes me so soft like imagine how big strong grayson would do his cute little blush uwu

Grayson stirred awake when he heard soft snuffling beside him, followed by a warm tongue lapping at his face to get his attention, Sledge making it very clear that he was tired of waiting for him to wake up. Grayson gently nudged the pup away, but not without stroking his back, soothing his excitement. It was like this every morning, Sledge waking him around 6 in the morning to get their day started and Grayson easily obliging because he was so whipped for his companion. He was feeling extra lazy today, for some reason, so he couldn’t help but doze off once more as he pet his dog, soft snores spilling from his mouth.

Ethan and Avva were different. The two always slept in and Avva seemed perfectly content with doing so, as long as she was by Ethan’s side. Usually, Grayson didn’t see Ethan and Avva until mid morning, when he’d already started on making breakfast for them.

Grayson opened his eyes again when he felt his duvet being pushed off of him, making him let out a groan in disagreement. “Why?” He huffed, seeing Ethan standing beside his bed, which was weird, considering his twin was not a morning person.

“I missed you, angel,” Ethan said sweetly, ignoring the scuffle their dogs were having on the empty side of the bed in favor of climbing on top of Grayson, putting all his weight on him and wrapping him in warmth. “Had a bad dream.” Ethan clarified. He felt like all his worries melted away in seconds, his stubbly cheek resting against Grayson’s shirtless pecs.

Grayson was very much awake now. How couldn’t he be? His older brother had come to seek comfort and by God, was he going to give it to him. “Angel, huh?” he questioned groggily, trying to pretend like the pet name didn’t raise his body temperature and make his heart thump a little harder in his chest. “Must’ve been a bad one if you’re sweet talking me,” he joked, wrapping his arms around Ethan to cacoon on him in his embrace.

“I knew it would help,” Ethan muttered, lifting his head to look down at Grayson’s sleepy face. “If it makes you give in this easy, I should start using it more often.” Ethan smiled a bit and leaned up to kiss Grayson softly. “See? I already forgot what my dream was about.”

Grayson let out a breath that resembled a chuckle and hoped it was dim enough in the room that Ethan didn’t see the burgundy flush on his cheeks. “Don’t,” Grayson said. “I can’t control my reactions when you call me that.”

“Good to know,” Ethan laughed and kissed him again, trailing his kisses along Grayson’s sharp jawline, on a mission to get to his ear. “You are my angel, though. Sent from heaven straight to me,” Ethan whispered, nuzzling his nose behind his ear.

Grayson was sure Ethan could feel how hot he was, his breathing labored as he tried to anticipate and cling to every word Ethan said. “You’re being inappropriate in front of our kids,” Grayson said shakily. He tried not to focus on the fact that their two pups were peacefully curled up together not paying one bit of attention to them.

“No I’m not! I’m telling you how I feel, we’re showing them what love is,” Ethan giggled and finally returned to Grayson’s mouth to continue kissing him.

Grayson felt like he’d lost control of the situation as he just laid there and let Ethan kiss him, so receptive to the intimacy that he might’ve been getting a bit too excited. “It’s too early for you to be giving me boners, Ethan,” Grayson said between kisses.

“Shush, angel, I’ll take care of you.”

#grethan #wombmates #anon

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fireheld · 8 months

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"you know, what people say about me is true." a pause, baby blues shifting away from billy's face to the space between them, to their worn out shoes. "i did kill my sister when i was six. i would rather you know through me than through anyone else," he says softly, face burning red hot. — @pumpkinstabs

Michael’s words hang in the air between them like smoke. Billy — he wants to speak but he doesn’t know what to say. Mean, angry things linger on his tongue, it takes work keeping them from spilling out.

He’d heard the rumours, the little whispers, of course he had, but he always blamed it on small town politics. It couldn’t have been that simple. But it wasn’t just the kids who’d said it, who’d otherwise ignored Michael. That’s what made him believe that there must’ve been a grain of truth in it. Probably not as drastic as murder but something, something that became twisted and gnarled through the grapevine.

This is an outright confession of the thing Billy often pushed to the back of his mind when he was with Michael because he was so different with him. Still quiet, in a way that made Billy appreciate it, but his eyes were gentle and so was his touch. There was nothing about him that made Billy think of him as a killer.

And Billy, well, Billy doesn’t believe that all kids are angels. He knows firsthand that some kids are wrong, in all the worst ways, but Michael?

He looks up at him, scans over his face, his avoiding eyes and his tense shoulders, the red in his cheeks.

Billy can’t imagine it. He tries to see it from a more personal perspective but his head is buzzing and there’s not really enough time for him to think, really think, but he tries to anyway. Maxine is an enigma to him, she is someone he protects while also being someone he hates, someone he resents, but the furthest he’s ever gone is leaving lingering bruises on her wrists that he thinks about even after they’ve healed because that is the proof of all the horrible things he already knows about himself.

He’s never thought about killing her though. He doesn’t think he could ever go that far, on purpose or unintentionally. (This isn’t like Harrington, this is so far from being like with Harrington, but he knows how bad it could have ended).

Then again, Neil liked to tell him about how his mother almost shook him once, when he was a squalling newborn. He liked to remind him of it every time he cries.

“I should have let her kill you, Lord knows it would have saved me the trouble.”

Then again, his mother was crazy, and he might be too, because all he can think is that Michael is different because he’s never hurt Billy, he’s never even looked at him with disgust which is strange because when Billy is comfortable, as he often is with the other around, he’s gross. He cannot for the life of him imagine it. Can you hurt the things you love? His mother almost killed him, his dad hurts him constantly but Michael? He’s a form of love without all the pain. It’s so hard for him to compare Michael, so loving and thoughtful and everything Billy has ever wanted to the coldness of death, to the joyless nature of murder.

“.. why’d you do it?” There is no curiosity in the question. Just a dullness, an ache, like Billy is prodding at an old bruise. He doesn’t understand, not really, but he had his mother and her strange ramblings, and he has his own dark and twisted thoughts, the ones that are sudden and angry, the ones he can barely resist.

He isn’t sure Michael wants to hear something flippant, wants to hear Billy say ‘well, I’m crazy too, I hurt people too’ because the difference between bruising and killing is so large, it’s like comparing a lake to an ocean.

“Just don’t lie to me,” He keeps his voice soft, “I just want to know why.”

#revving the engine — ( ic ).#pumpkinstabs — ;;#[ Billy in all his confused glory ]#cw child abuse #cw implied cocsa

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duskamethyst · 3 years

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deception.

a/n: if you ask me why i did this, the answer is i don’t know.

word count: 4.6k

genre: smut, nsfw, angst, quirkless AU

warnings: daddy kink, degradation, edging, age gap, implied cheating, reader is a little delusional

pairing: sugardaddy!bakugou x f!reader

summary: where you fall in love with your own sugar daddy and you finally confess to him.

pretending to be in love with old men for a couple of hours can be exhausting and it might seem like a nonideal way to get money, but desperate times call for desperate measures. you’ve met plenty of these people, who have too much money they could spend. some are just lonely; in need of company from a young, pretty girl and some just want to have fun despite having their wives and kids at home. they come and go, and you couldn’t care less about what happens to them after your encounter, as long as you get your money’s worth.

but never have you ever thought that you’d be so attached to one. maybe entertaining sugar daddies isn’t that tiring when they’re really attractive (it’s natural to like good looking people, can anyone blame you?). he’s truly a sight for sore eyes and you often wonder how he possesses so much stamina in bed. bakugou makes you feel some kind of way, it’s wrong, but with more time you spend with him, you can’t help but to actually fall in love with the guy. he makes you feel antsy and you often find yourself waiting for his texts, either the dirty ones or the ones that expresses his anticipation to see you again soon.

it’s not like he doesn’t do the same thing as the others; buys you things you know you can’t afford, spends his money on fancy dinners and continues to spend the rest of the night with you at random five stars hotels after. the difference is, you actually somewhat enjoy being around him as his spoiled little princess and you find yourself to gladly do anything for him like the time you let him fuck you raw because he wanted to.

for a man his age, bakugou is well maintained. you love to lay your head down on his huge chest and rake your nails on his broad back, eliciting deep grunts of pleasure from the man in return. he looks appetizing; toned abs and a happy trail that leads to his trimmed pubes and down to his massive cock. if it isn’t for the fine lines on his face and the white streaks on his hair, you wouldn’t think he’d be reaching 50.

you don’t know if you should even feel jealous of his wife. if you were born years earlier, would he choose you instead? the thought of him being with someone else and vowed to be together for the rest of their lives makes you want to puke. bakugou must’ve realized that it was a mistake too. if he still loves her, why would he have his cock sink inside you? if he really loves her, why are you the one he tells that to instead?

“daddy loves you. daddy loves fucking your tight cunt. baby, you feel so fuckin’ good– so fuckin’ good for daddy. love you too– fuck.”

you can already picture the image of him on top of you as you replay those same words like a broken record player inside your head; lips part slightly in heavy pants, vermillion irises overfill with lechery as he fucks you senseless.

daddy loves you. he loves you and you're more than certain that you love him. not for his money, not for the stuff he indulges you with but only for himself.

you want him. you want him to make you all his. you want him to be able to see you freely and not sneaking behind someone else’s back. you want to sit pretty as you wait for him to come back home from work every day, all wet and ready to please him. he loves you, and that’s what he deserves after a stressful day.

as soon as you get inside the room and kick off your heels, a strong pair of hands grab you by the thighs and easily lift you up. you wrap your legs around his waist in an instant, dropping your bag to the floor unceremoniously before circling your arms around his neck as he draws you in a passionate, hungry kiss. a battle of dominance has always been nonexistent when it comes to bakugou, he naturally holds everything in the palm of his hand and both of you like it that way.

his lips never stray away from yours, not even when he walks towards the bed with you clinging onto his strong physique while his hands squeeze firmly on the flesh of your bum before he breaks away, but only to throw you on the soft mattress. you prop up on your side, looking up at him innocently and pleadingly with doe eyes that you know would never fail to stir up something primal inside him. his gaze drinks in every inch of you; the heave of your chest, the curve of your ass and overall your smaller frame that lies submissively in front of him.

“look at you. such a fucking doll.” he takes off his slim fit suit, throwing the coat carelessly on the ground before loosening up his tie until it unfolds completely. “you like the dress? it’s shorter than i imagined, can’t help but to notice how the other guys kept on checking you out.”

you nod your head, pressing your thighs together as you notice how his lustful eyes linger a little too long on your ass that’s barely hiding under the hem of your mini dress. “yes, because daddy bought it for me.”

“damn right he did.” he smirks, unfastening about three buttons of his dress shirt. “ass up.”

you hurriedly roll on your stomach, planting your cheek on the mattress and arching your back perfectly as you lift your ass in the air. you feel the bed dipping from your back before a calloused hand caresses your thigh and trails up to your cheeks slowly, appreciating the smooth and youthful skin before he gets to ruin it.

“good. lift your head up.”

it’s never your position to question. carefully, you do as told by lifting yourself up on your hands and knees. you can discern the shifting of his body from behind and by your side as you look ahead and face the curtains before your sight is abruptly seized by darkness.

the silky material biting your lids suggests that he has wrapped his tie around your head, purposely blindfolding you to amplify your other senses as your sight is consumed with pitch black. bakugou pushes your head down with his hand, keeping you on your knees and lets you stay in the position while he takes off his dress shirt.

“you’re gonna be a good girl for daddy.” he states more than questions, hiking up the hem of your dress to your waist to feed him with an unobstructed view of the damp patch adhering on your flimsy panties. bakugou presses his thumb on the splotch and his eyes flick over to your quivering body. “gonna let daddy use his tongue to fuck you?”

“please, daddy.” you whine, bucking your hips closer to ease the ache with his touch but is greeted with a sharp smack across your skin instead.

“so impatient,” he tuts, rubbing the red print gently. “you’re just a horny little girl, aren’t you? can’t live without daddy’s dick inside her cunt.”

“just you– only yours.”

“you know just what to say, don’t you?” his voice husky and rasp, complimenting the conceited smirk on his lips as he spoke. you learn that bakugou is actually a man that is easy to please, only if you know how to stroke his ego and as simple as that, his intimidating persona would be long gone.

cold air brushes against your wet folds once he strips off your panties. he lifts up both knees to get you out from the garment and crumple it into a ball with his hand before bringing it in front of your face.

“open.” you obey and open your mouth, allowing him to gag you with the cloth and quickly filling your senses with a mixture of lace and your own scent. “so good for me.”

bakugou moves back to his initial position, smearing his fingers against your puffy folds with your slick. he circles your clit teasingly and slowly, resulting in you to squirm while your hands find purchase on the sheets beneath you.

“stop squirming around or i’m not gonna eat you.” he warns as his ministrations come to a halt to observe your compliance before he continues. for a man that is impatient himself, it’s quite hard to take his sweet time teasing you. maybe with the fact that you’re so querulous, a surge of power and pride rushes through him and his willpower tells him not to lose his machismo too quickly.

a satisfying grin tugs on the corner of his lips while he watches you struggle to follow his order and his thumb presses tight circles on your swollen clit to draw out sweet, muffled whines. once he notices your legs begin to tense and toes to curl, he pulls away.

“you can’t cum yet.” he licks up the slick from his fingers clean before settling his head in front of your rear. an anticipative knot swells in your lower stomach as you feel hot plumes of breath prickling against your puffy folds before he spreads them open with his fingers. with how much your senses have spiked up, you can feel your pussy dripping with so much arousal and you know damn well that bakugou can see it too.

“you’re nothing but a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” he coos, sounding both demeaning and amused as he rubs your lips, sending more waves of sensation on the bundle of nerves. “my dirty little slut.”

bakugou doesn’t expect you to answer but as soon as his warm tongue takes the first lap of your slick, a loud squeal rips from your throat. his large hands rest on your hips as he tilts his head to reach your clit, toying and teasing by using the tip of his tongue while his own plump lips and stubble graze against your slit.

you’re quick to turn into a sobbing mess, unheedful of the saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth when you’re aware that it won’t take too long until you’d eventually break. just as the stimulation is becoming more overbearing, his hands clench on your supple flesh tighter in a silent command that tells you it’s not time to cum yet.

after he’s satisfied with abusing the bud, he drags down his tongue and pumps inside your quivering hole, causing you to jolt in a delighted surprise. from the loud, lewd squelching sounds of your own fluid mixing with his spit, you can only picture the way he looks right now; face buried between your ass cheeks, nose deep in your cunt while his tongue works miraculously around your walls.

even the image beyond the abyss itself makes you more delirious.

“c-can’t–” you break into a muffled cry as your hips bucks into his mouth without conscious control. another harsh slap is what you receive, but you can’t seem to care when a thick fog of desire is already clouding your brain; making the pain and pleasure to become one divine fusion.

bakugou’s blows don't stop with how much you’re grinding so earnestly on his face. your skin burns from the cruel attention, yet your cunt just keeps on seeping with slick that trickles down to his chin and drips down on the sheets beneath you.

“you’re such a fucking pain slut.” he growls, hot breath fanning your greedy cunt and making the pressure even tighter in your stomach. “not yet.” his tongue is anything but languid; swirling hastily as it explores your little hole as far as he can reach. it’s obscene. the way that the muscle glides so smoothly.. the warmth, the moisture–

next thing you know, your eyes are already rolled to the back of your eyelids as your body tenses while waves of gratification crash down throughout your entire being.

“cumming on daddy’s tongue without permission.” he tsks, giving one last spank before standing up at the edge of the bed as he burns the image of your quivering body into the back of his head, adorned by the red imprint of his hand on your pliant skin. “turn around.”

without a spare moment to gather yourself, you get up on wobbly legs and arms, carefully turn around like a fawn taking its first baby steps and rebuild your senses at the same time to estimate where he currently stands until he tells you to stop.

your eyes squint as they adjust to the subdued room, finally able to see faint light again after bakugou takes off the tie around your head. you look up to the older man, only to be pierced by a pair of carmine orbs and a disgruntled look on his face.

“you know what you did wrong.” a thin string of drool latches onto the panties when he pulls it out from your mouth to observe the drenched fabric between his thumb and pointer finger. “looks like you had a great time.” you can see how it’s embarrassingly soaked, but not as embarrassing as the amount of slick glistening around his lips and chin that he doesn’t even bother to wipe off.

“’m sorry, daddy.” you whisper hoarsely through dry throat while giving him your most remorseful look. it would’ve deceived him if he didn’t know any better, but receiving punishments is something he knows you’d enjoy.

the slight upturn at the corner of his lips etches into a lazy grin as he unfastens his belt and takes off his pants along with his briefs to release his erected cock– now standing proudly in front of your face.

“what do you have to do now?” he hums, tapping the flushed tip on your lips as if moisturizing the parched skin with his leaking precum.

“m-make daddy proud.” you shamelessly steal a taste, flattening your tongue out so he can rub it on your palate.

“can’t fuckin’ understand you– cock hungry slut.” he chuckles with mirth, one hand tucking your hair behind each ear as his gaze softens for a moment. “but that’s why i fuckin’ love you.”

your lashes flutter as you stare up at him, heart blooming like flowers on a fresh start of spring after a harsh, cold winter as the words he uttered loops inside your head. with a content hum, you close your eyes and wrap your lips around his cock, eliciting a hiss from the male once engulfed in the warmth of your mouth.

“shit, i haven’t even told you to suck me yet.” his own eyes follow suit, throwing his head back as his own hand finds home on top of your head. your eagerness makes it hard for him to stay mad. if he was younger he would’ve been a little irritated if someone tried to take control, but maybe aging really did something and made your whims seem more tolerable for him. but what he loves most is seeing you struggle to fit his fat cock; whether it’s by your mouth or your pussy.

“just like that,” his voice drops an octave, watching most of his length disappear inside your mouth while your tongue runs against his veins. “fuckin’ look at me when you’re suckin’.”

you submissively comply to his command, meeting those sharp eyes you adore beneath the tousled mess of his blond and white hair.

“you love daddy’s cock?” he doesn’t intend to give you a second to answer before he continues, “then you wouldn’t mind chokin’ on it, don’t ya?”

you moan in response just as he expected and he snorts through his nose. “of course you don’t.”

bakugou brings your head closer, shoving down his cock your throat before he starts to snap his hips. a chorus of curses pass his lips, taut muscles relaxing as he drowns in euphoria. drool soon starts to dribble from the corner of your lips and your jaw starts to ache, yet you’re still insistent on accommodating his cock– using your tongue when you could until he’s exploding with a mouthful of oaths.

“such a good girl.” he grunts, holding your head firmly with tension in his fingers as he stares down at you with knitted brows. “feels good havin’ dick in your mouth? hm?”

“hmm–” you moan in concur, the vibration almost drives him mad and it’s evident through the twitch you feel against your hollowed cheeks. with an exasperated groan, he pulls out his cock from your mouth and pumps it in his fist.

“take it off and lie down. now.” his words thrum through you in a burst of heat. you swiftly discard the dress and rest on your back, spreading your legs in front of him in anticipation before he proceeds to climb on the bed. you shudder when he spits on your cunt before smothering his cock against the slit and down to your entrance to give extra lubrication.

a deep, inarticulate sound rips from his throat, one that conveys pleasure as he sheathes his cock inside you. he can feel your walls sucking him in so welcomingly and squeezing him so tight that he thought he might cum then and there.

“that’s fuckin’ tight.” he girts out, pushing through the walls until he has bottomed out. with each hand on the sides of your head, his large and shredded build looms on top of you and keeps your smaller frame caged underneath.

“daddy– s-so big.” you extend your arms to cling around his neck, looking up at him with a lust addled gaze.

“i know you can handle me, sweetheart.” he smirks conceitedly and starts to roll his hips, dragging every ridge and vein against your walls through each thrust. your toes curl when he goes deeper and your nails dig into his back, leaving crimson trails as they rake.

“l-love you, daddy.” the words slip past your lips so naturally in flawless manifestation of your genuine feelings towards him.

you observe how his lips stretch into a simper, fiery and lustrous eyes staring back at you before he replies, “love you too, ba– fuck–”

bakugou feels you clench around him impossibly tighter and he leans down to kiss you, forcing you to swallow down his moans as he ruts inside you harder and faster.

“baby– that’s right. daddy fuckin’ loves you.” his low and resonant voice fills your ears, pleasure pulling taut in your lower stomach as the pressure begins to build up rapidly for your second orgasm. “–and he loves this tight cunt.”

“ah– daddy! p-please make me cum–” you start to babble, too lost in pleasure and your legs find themselves wrapping around bakugou’s waist to keep him closer and deeper.

“don’t you fucking dare cum yet.” he snarls before lifting himself up to keep his hands on the headboard in front of him and instantly blocking your view of the room. not that you mind when you’ve already set your eyes on him the whole time.

“no matter how many times i’ve fucked you–” he pulls out almost completely before ramming in again, making you squeal. “you still feel so fucking good.”

your hands reach to cup his face gently, your lips parted and wet, eyes glazed with adoration and an overflowing want for him. “all for you.”

he chuckles quietly to himself. who knew that he would find himself burying his cock in some dumb college girl? with her heart filled eyes that tell him he’s some kind of a savior or the last man on earth. whether it’s all superficial or not, he thinks you’re pretty damn good at it.

“you sure make it hard for daddy not to love you.” he scoffs. you let out a needy whine when he pulls out and your hole convulses, instantly missing the way his cock stretches you out and makes you feel full.

but it’s not for long when your vision suddenly keels as he flips you over to lie down on your stomach. bakugou easily hoists up your hips and pushes down your back to force you into a perfect arch before he sinks his throbbing cock inside your sloppy cunt without warning.

“nghh– daddy–!” you cry as bakugou pounds into you with a menacing pace and hits you at the right places at the same time.

“yeah? you like it when daddy uses you like the little slut you are?” he grabs a fistful of your hair, jerking your head up. “like you’re nothing but my little cocksleeve?”

“yesyesyes– daddy–! s-so deep– can’t!” your strength begins to drain out and you don’t know how much longer you can hold yourself before he allows you to cum.

“you can– fuck– you’re clamping down on me.” he growls, one hand on your hips forming crescent shapes on your skin with his fingers.

your jaw has fallen slack, mouth gaping in breathless whimpers as you let bakugou abuse your little cunny while your own hands are balling into fists that your knuckles turn white. the air is filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other, mingling with his heavy pants.

“you’re really– hah– milking this fat cock.” his own rhythm turns sporadic, skin burning red with every second he prolongs his desire.

“please– daddy–” you let out a feeble moan and your legs begin to tremble as a result of the unbearable pressure tightening in your lower stomach. your pussy is already leaking with so much slick and it’s making a filthy mess on the bed.

“you’re ready to cum for daddy?” he fucks you harder with deep strokes, knocking the breath from your lungs each time he presses into you.

“pleasepleaseplease–” tears prickle from the corner of your eyes as the coil in your stomach threatens to snap.

“cum.”

the word left his lips in a pure command and you break down instantly with a loud cry. a huge wash of pleasure winds its way through every nerve and your pussy gushes and clenches around his cock.

“that’s it. good girl.” a deep growl rumbles in his chest as he observes every twitch of pleasure he has brought into you.

“th-thank you, daddy.” you mumble, still deeply doused in ecstasy.

bakugou finally releases his harsh grip and your head plops down on the soft pillow while he pulls out and pumps his cock in his own fist, coated with your own arousal before he splurts thick ropes of cum all over your cheeks and watches as it trickles down to your cunt.

after a brief moment of catching his breath, bakugou reaches for the nearest tissue box and helps to clean off the mess you both made. you let your exhausted body fall onto the mattress and he throws the used tissues away before leaning back on the headboard next to you, still panting and trying to get down from his high.

“you okay?” he breaks the silence, flicking his gaze towards you and rubs your head gently in hopes to soothe the pain he caused from pulling your hair so roughly.

you hum, seeking for solace from his touch as he pulls the blanket up to cover your bodies and reaches for his phone on the nightstand with his other hand. you silently observe him as he looks at his phone, probably reading and scrolling through emails or texts like he’d usually do after having you wrecked.

“love you, daddy.” you suddenly squeak, yet bakugou doesn’t tear his eyes from the screen and it leaves you unsure if he heard you or not.

“hm.” his response is indifferent and your stomach churns into an unpleasant feeling; one you don’t appreciate at all.

“daddy.” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “i said i love you.”

bakugou clicks his tongue and your heart shatters slightly at the sound, thinking that you probably just annoyed him, “yeah, i heard you.”

“bakugou.” you suddenly snap and the hand on top of your head stills. you don’t know where the courage to call him by his name comes from, but you want to convey your sobriety over the current situation and for what you’re about to say next. cold shivers run down your spine once his attention diverges towards you and he raises a questioning brow, ushering you to speak.

“i-i love you–” you gulp, taking a deep breath. “like, i’m in love with you.”

his stare is impassive and there’s an uncomfortable silence weighing the air between the two of you. your cheeks begin to warm up with humiliation and a part of you dreads with regret. you aren’t sure how long the deafening silence lasted before you see a twitch at the corner of his lips.

“you gotta be kidding me.” he snickers, shaking his head in disbelief.

you rise up on your side and your eyes waver with confusion as you look at him. “b-but you said you love me too. you do, r-right?”

he scoffs, mostly galled by the fact that he’s actually having this conversation with you– a dumb college girl, but he doesn’t expect much either. “why the hell would i be in love with you? did i knock your head?”

getting straight to the point is one of bakugou’s nature; his bluntness is like a sharp knife that stabs you in the heart.

“but you said–”

“why do you think i only said it when i had my cock buried inside your cunt?”

and it twists painfully.

“forget about it. go to sleep.” he nonchalantly replies and returns back to his phone, brushing off the wounded look that’s written all over your face.

you feel humiliated, angered and disregarded. given that you were always spoiled, you can’t stand having your feelings unreciprocated and rejection is one of the things you aren’t familiar with.

“why? because you have a wife? you don’t even love her–”

you flinch when you hear the loud thud of bakugou slamming his phone down on the bed, but it’s not as fearsome as the malicious glare he’s shooting at you. “don’t you fucking say that. i don’t wanna hear that, especially coming from a dumb whore like you.”

harsh reality gives you a massive slap in the face.

your heart is hammering against your chest and your vision begins to blur as tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill out. you feel like you want to scream at him but the words you want to say only get caught in your throat. bakugou notices how you’re about to burst but he only rolls his eyes, expressing his vexation.

“god,” he sighs exasperatedly and gets off from the bed to pick up his clothes from the floor. “the last thing i need is another fucking nuisance.”

“w-where are you going?” you croak as you watch him put on his clothes.

bakugou turns to your direction and snarls, “what does it look like? leaving.”

the pain in your chest becomes harder to bear, fat tears start to roll down your cheeks and when you try to reach for him, he coldly shoves your hand away. you saw how furious he could be through his phone calls but you were never on the receiving end; always the one who calmed him down and let him use you as a way to take out his frustrations on. now you’re nothing different than the rest of the people in his life, or maybe you were just too stupid to realize that you were never any different before too.

“just leave when it’s time to check out. you’d know at least that much.” he scoffs as he walks to the door and twists the doorknob before turning back to you for what it seems would be the last time.

“and don’t even think of finding me again.”

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugo angst #bakugou angst #bnha angst #mha angst #tw; cheating #tw; age gap

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luxwritesfanfic · 3 years

Text

Don’t Take The Money

Poor reader thought it would end up being a normal Sunday but that must’ve been the mix of bleach and Pinesol fumes getting to their head. Or, the one where reader finds out they have more in common with the other woman in Sherlock’s life than they thought and Sherlock has an aneurysm at the revelation. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You were just waking up when Sherlock was moving around the bedroom trying to pack his overnight bag. You groaned at the noise of drawers being opened and hangers jostled and rolled over onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Sherlock? You’re leaving?”

He stopped in his tracks back towards the closet and moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. He looked down at you with fondness that so many people thought he was incapable of feeling and as always, it made your heart swell. Brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, you relished in his undivided attention.

“A case was brought to my attention. I won’t be gone for long, it’s a few towns over.” He insists, trying to ease your worries before they arise.

Although you’d miss him, it never did anyone any good when Sherlock was bored. He needed something to keep him occupied and you needed time to clean up the drywall shrapnel that constantly covered the couch due to the boredness. It would give you the opportunity to deep clean the flat and the idea wasn’t so bad.

“Is John going too?” Sherlock nodded. You don’t know why you asked, they always worked together.

You turned your head to kiss his palm and sat up to get out of bed. “Okay. I’ll make you breakfast before you guys leave. Nobody likes train food anyway.”

Sherlock moved to help you stand, one of the smiles he reserved just for you gracing his lips. “You take excellent care of me. But you should know, you don’t have to be useful for this to mean something to me.”

He caught you off guard, but he usually did when he read you like a book. Your whole life you’d made yourself useful and you weren’t sure if people liked you for you or for the fact that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them. You would do anything and everything for Sherlock and it didn’t have anything to do with being useful, honestly. You loved him dearly and you couldn’t imagine treating him like you felt anything less than that. You couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Omelettes or pancakes?”

—

Your shirt was soaked from washing the dishes and you smelled like a mixture of bleach and formaldehyde from scrubbing the fridge clean and removing the severed head that took up the space where your coffee creamer should be. You had done more loads of laundry than you could count, bleached the bloodstained tub from Sherlock’s latest pig quest, the entire flat smelled like Bahama breeze and you couldn’t be more content. The boys weren’t due back for a day or two so you figured you’d spend some time with Mrs. Hudson when you were done and see if you could meet up with Bucky and Greg for lunch. When you passed the kitchen on your way to your bedroom to change, you decided that this may be the only chance you ever get to clear off the dining room table. Sherlock’s science equipment had overrun it and you figured it wouldn’t hurt if you straightened it up just a bit.

You were in the midst of cleaning out Sherlock’s beakers when you heard the knock on the door. Figuring that John would have posted on his blog that they weren’t currently taking clients because they were on a case, you expected to see Mrs. Hudson and the mop she was letting you borrow. You cracked the door just enough to see who was on the other side and was surprised to see an older woman holding a plate of baked goods who wasn’t Mrs. Hudson.

“Hi... how can I help you?”

The woman in question’s eyes lit up at the sight of you and you weren’t sure why. She smiled and gestured to the platter in her hands. “Is Sherlock Holmes here?”

She must be a client, you thought. Shaking your head, you responded, “No, sorry! The boys off on a case. I’m a friend of theirs. Is there something I can help you with?”

She was looking past you into the flat and you weren’t sure what she was looking for. “Do you mind if I come in? I could really use a cup of tea. And I wanted to drop these cookies I made for Sherlock off.”

You looked at what she was holding and decided it wouldn’t really hurt to let her in, and the cookies looked amazing. Sherlock must have helped her in some way.

“Sure, come on in. Sorry about my clothes... I’ve been doing some spring cleaning.” You stepped aside and let her in. “So, are you a client of his?”

She went to place the platter on the table and you were excited that it was already worth cleaning off the table. “Not quite. I’ve known him his whole life and have loved him even longer.” She turned and smiled at you, seeing through you in a way that seemed eerily close to Sherlock.

You hummed, taking in her answer. Sherlock didn’t talk much about his friends, so you weren’t surprised that you never heard of her.

“Just a minute, I’m gonna change.”

You excused yourself to the bedroom where your phone was charging on the bed. After sending Sherlock a quick text that someone who wasn’t a client was here for him, you dug around in the closet for something clean and more appropriate.

The lady didn’t really seem like a threat and you were sure if it came down to it, you’d be able to protect yourself. You could chuck the skull on the mantle if need be, it was a hard hitter.

When you returned, she was wandering around the flat and looking at all of the pictures of you, Sherlock, and John that you’d recently framed and put out.

“You and Sherlock, you’re close, yes? Tell me about him. It’s been so long.” She was holding a picture that you took of you two in the back of a taxi. Sherlock was on his phone but you thought his hair looked extra good and the golden hour light made him look like an angel so you had to take the picture.

“Yeah, I mean. He’s a seriously great person. A brilliant detective, he’s so smart. He helps all these people for free, and he never complains if they don’t offer him anything. He hates when I tell him he’s a godsend but who else would do that? Um... he’s really funny, probably one of the funniest people I know. You just have to keep up with his humor. It can be kind of dry, but it’s there. He’s one of the most loyal people there is and he’d do anything for the people he cares about.”

It was so easy for you to speak so highly of him. It was like second nature.

“He can be stubborn sometimes, and he can be a little more blunt than he needs to be but... he’s amazing. There’s no other way to explain him, really. He’s got a light that comes from him that rivals the sun and I don’t think it could ever be dimmed.”

She turned back to you and slowly broke out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen someone wear. “You really love my son.”

“Your son?” You blinked, unsure of what was going on. You really started to look at the woman in front of you and you realized Sherlock had her eyes. A complete copy and paste. “Oh my God, you’re Sherlock’s mom. I never even introduced myself. I’m Y/N, a friend of-”

“You’re not his friend, dear, and I’m not blind. Old age takes a lot from you, but I could never miss the way my son shines. And you... you see it too.” She walked up to you, still holding the picture frame in her hands. “You love my son in a way that no one else has. Let me tell you all about him.”

—

You couldn’t stop laughing.

Sherlock’s mom had brought over tons of scrapbooks and old pictures that she had acquired over the years, and you had a feeling she knew you were here alone before she even knocked on the door. Mycroft, probably. You spent the whole day getting to know each other and taking a stroll down memory lane with her telling you all about Sherlock as a kid and how it was growing up with two geniuses as sons. She even gave you a copy of one of Sherlock’s high school pictures that you were going to cherish forever. She seemed so happy to have someone to talk to and assured you that spending time with you was the closest she had felt to Sherlock in a long time.

You insisted that she stay and let you make dinner, but she was as equally stubborn as Sherlock and ordered you takeaway as her treat. You tried to argue but she was having none of it. “My God, you scrubbed this whole flat clean. I’m not going to let you dirty your dishes. How does Chinese sound?”

—

Sherlock barreled up the steps with all the force he could muster in his legs and rushed in to see you, perfectly fine and all in one piece, having dinner with his mother.

“Sherlock!” You both exclaimed, his mother full of excitement and you full of worry.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, standing up from your end of the couch. “I thought you were on a case? Is everything okay?”

“I’ve been texting and calling you all day! You’re that daft that you couldn’t text back once all this time?” He’s still out of breath and he can feel his heartbeat in his ears. His tone is exasperated and you could hear the mix of anxiety and relief in his voice as he’d yet to acknowledge his mother. She seemed perfectly content to sit back and watch the situation unfold, amusement at her son’s unusual outburst gracing her features.

“My phone was dead! And then I put it on the charger and I forgot about it once your mom came, by the way!” You went to the bedroom and retrieved your phone to find a dozen missed texts and calls.

Probably just a client. SH

11:07 AM

Are you sure it’s not a client? SH

11:43 AM

Are they still there? SH

1:00 PM

Missed Call

1:17 PM

Missed Call

2:03 PM

Call me back. SH

3:26 PM

Y/N, I’m on a case. Call me back. SH

3:44 PM

Missed Call

4:13 PM

Is everything alright? SH

4:52 PM

Missed Call

5:08 PM

Missed Call

5:10 PM

Missed Call

5:12 PM

I’m boarding the train now and I’ll be there soon. Don’t worry. SH

5:21 PM

Sherlock followed after you, still without ever acknowledging his mother, and shut the door after himself. With his palms braced against the wooden door, he tried to ease the tension out of his bones through a deep breath as he watched you check your phone. He wasn’t worried about the case at all. It was mostly solved and what little was left John could do with ease. He felt the weight of the missed calls in his stomach like lead and the three hour train ride that he couldn’t curse to defy time any quicker. He had plenty of enemies and you had virtually none, so there would be no reason to think you’d hesitate to assist anyone who came to his door, especially if it was in the name of helping him. He thought he’d walk into a crime scene and he couldn’t shake those images out of his head.

You got up from the bed and walked over to him, reaching to wrap one arm around his neck and to take his hand in yours in the other. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, and then to his chin, over his eyelids, his nose, and then lastly you met his lips, murmuring “I’m sorry” in between every kiss. He didn’t usually voice it, but you had known him long enough to know when he was upset. He relaxed into your touch as he always did and you pulled away from him long enough to pull on the ends of his scarf. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Let me help. We got takeaway for your mom and I but we can share mine. I got what you like anyway.”

He let you pull his scarf and jacket off and you were delighted to see he wasn’t really mad with you. You hang his jacket on the closet door and by the time you turn back to face him, he’s already making his way back out to the living room. Following after him, you see his mother gesturing him to come over.

“What are you doing here? I thought I told Mycroft to tell you I was away on business.” He was messing with the cuffs on his sleeves but his question was directed at his mother with unmistakable intent. She tsked at him, and you began to see even more similarities in their mannerisms.

“That’s no way to talk to your mother, William. I was spending some time with your darling partner here and I don’t even get a kiss or a hug?” She began gathering her belongings and threw her purse over her shoulder. You weren’t happy to see her go.

You did peak up at the name. “William? Your name is William?”

Sherlock groaned, ignoring you completely. You swore you could see a blush dusting his cheeks. In no time he was at the door, holding it open for his mother. “It’s getting rather late, don’t you agree? Father must be wondering where you are. Be sure to pay Mycroft a visit the next time you’re in town. I assure you, he always has time for family.”

She turned to you and blew you a kiss. “I had a great time with you today, I hope you’ll manage to bring Sherlock home more.”

Walking over to Sherlock, she paused to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “I know you know what you could lose here. So be sure you don’t, Sherlock.”

Before she totally stepped out of the flat, she turned around one last time. “Promise me you’ll come home soon. Your father and I miss you dearly.”

“I heard you the first ten times. Goodnight and safe travels, mother.” Sherlock shut the door before his mother could get another word and your shoulders slumped.

“Hey, that was your mom! She’s really nice. We had a good day.” You started to clean up the coffee table and take the dishes into the kitchen. You couldn’t understand Sherlock’s relationship with his family but you were sure there was a lot of things you didn’t know. Still, it was nice to have a chance to bond with your (maybe one day) future family. It was then that you realized that Sherlock never said anything when his mother mentioned you being his partner. You two never really officially defined what you were, so to see him not object to an actual title made you feel all warm inside.

“No, you had a good day. I was trying to work a case and clear a man’s name while trying to figure out if I’d come home to you kidnapped or dead.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, watching you from the doorway. You looked back at him as you dropped the dishes into the sink and let out a sigh. You hated the fact that you let him down.

“I have to go back tomorrow to tie some loose ends with John. If you come with me, I have a feeling I’ll get over it a lot quicker.” His voice was quiet but full of mirth. He won’t hold this over your head, and you both know this, but if it makes him feel better you’ll follow him. You’d follow him to the ends of the Earth and off the edge if he lead you.

Sherlock pushed himself off of the doorway and walked towards the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

“So, you’re staying home tonight?” You swung around the kitchen doorway and called out to the hall. You hadn’t even thought about Sherlock having to go back, and you couldn’t help but be excited that he would be there for you to fall asleep next to tonight.

“You didn’t expect me to make the trip back at this hour, did you? Besides, I sleep better with you and it’s obvious that I don’t focus well if you’re not around, Which is why I need you to come with me tomorrow. It seems you owe me, anyway.” Sherlock takes a step back so you can see him in the bedroom doorway, and you can feel your heart in your throat.

He’s so beautiful, you think, all alabaster skin and lean muscle. He’s pulling a t-shirt over his head and you wonder if you could manifest a photographic memory long enough to commit him to memory. Of course he notices you staring, and you almost want to mention all the times you catch him staring at you but he changes the subject and opens the blankets for you and you shut up and follow him. You follow him and you love him and you wake up in the morning at the crack of dawn to run downstairs and order coffee from the shop next door before your train leaves, being sure to get them to write “William” on the cup. Sherlock doesn’t find this funny at all, but he still lets you fall asleep on his arm on the train ride there and doesn’t complain when his arm falls asleep right along with you.

He thinks that if this is the life his mother wished for him as a child, that would be one thing he could take off of his list of things she eventually needs to answer for. Because mothers know best, and when it came to you, she could have never been more right.

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sourholland · 3 years

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My Girl || Harry Styles

Summary → You come home to watch the sweetest moment between both your daughter and Harry. While he sings her to sleep, you reminisce.

AN → Not even lying, this is my favorite thing literally ever. It is so sweet, so so so so sweet. This means a lot to me, my mom used to sing My Girl by the Temptations to me when I was a little girl as well. I recommend listening to My Girl while reading, or after reading this. Let me know what you guys think!

Pairing(s) → Dad!Harry x Mom!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 1.2k

You pushed open the door to yours and Harry’s shared flat with your hip. Leaving the key in the handle, you brought the grocery bags through to the kitchen, setting them on the island. It was warm, and already dark outside. Everything seemed sort of quiet, no sign of Harry or your daughter Lucie.

Remembering to grab the key, you began to put away the bread and orange juice you’d just gone to pick up. The dishes were done, Harry must’ve had some time. Blankets were folded along the couch, the television turned off. You put everything away, slipping off your shoes and coat.

Left in your baggy jeans and oversized T-shirt you’d stolen from Harry, you padded down the hallway. The light hum coming from behind Lucie’s slightly ajar bedroom door made your heart swell. You could hear the strumming of Harry’s guitar, along with the sweet voice of your five year old daughter.

Lucie was absolutely enamored by music, she and Harry both had that in common. She sang in the morning while you helped her dress, she sang in the car on the way to school, she sang at night while she sat on the kitchen counter watching you make dinner. You and Harry absolutely adored it, her bubbling energy and ability to stand in front of anyone and burst out into song.

He’d written plenty of songs about you, but she was always the first to hear them. Lucie prided herself in being his biggest fan, asking him to sing to her practically every night. It turned into a mix of that and the opposite, Harry soon started to ask her to sing to him. It was moments like these that made you want her to stay little forever.

“Alright, Lulu,” he said softly, pushing back some of her messy brown curls. “Lay down, s’getting late.”

“But mummy hasn’t come to say goodnight,” she whined.

“Mummy will come in once she gets home, I’ll make sure.”

You knew you could push open the door and join them, but you noticed Harry pulling the guitar fully into his lap. There was something so special about these bedtimes, something you didn’t want to interrupt. It was heartwarming, knowing Lucie would remember these things when she thought back to her childhood.

He hummed a minute, brushing her cheek with his knuckle. His nails were light purple and green, those were her favorite colors at the moment. God knows it’ll be different next Wednesday, but for now, they were her favorite.

“I used to play this to you when you were jus’ a baby,” he smiled warmly at her tired face.

She turned on her side, cocking her head to look at him. He pulled the pink quilt over her, tucking it in. He was in grey sweatpants and a hoodie, hair a mess from chasing Lucie around the house all day. You leaned against the doorframe, just out of their line of sight.

As soon as Harry began to strum the soft rhythm of the song, you knew it. A smile immediately appeared on your face, knowing how much this song meant to the both of them. He grinned at her cheekily, bopping his head a moment and beginning to sing lowly.

“I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day,

When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May”

You could see Lucie’s eyelashes fluttering, her small hand laid on his knee. Heart heavy, you saw Harry mouth ‘that’s you’ to her. There was nothing sweeter than watching these two spend time together, but something about this precious moment made you want to capture it forever.

“And I guess you’d say,

What can make me feel this way?

My girl,

Talkin’ ‘bout my girl”

It didn’t take much more than that before tears formed in your eyes, clouding your vision. Wiping them silently, you fell even more in love with him, something that you hadn’t even thought was possible. Harry was goodness. He was the type of person who held your hair back when you got sick, the type of person who did the dishes and cleaned the house without a question, the type of person who sang his daughter to sleep each night.

He was the same person who cried when Lucie was born, who told you he’d have ten more kids if that was what you wanted. He is an even better dad than you could have imagined, one that made you grateful to have been able to spend the rest of your lives together.

“I’ve got so much honey, the bees envy me,

I’ve got a sweeter song than the bird in the trees,

Well, I guess you’d say,

What can make me feel this way?

My girl,

Talkin’ ‘bout my girl”

Lucie yawned, a permanent smile on her lips, it looked as though she was admiring Harry in his entirety. You knew she would remember these sweet memories forever, and hopefully she’d make some similar with her own children one day, if that’s what she wanted.

She listened as he sang on, just as you were. Silent tears spilled down your cheeks, taking in everything around you. You knew these years, the ones where she was so little and dependent, wouldn’t last forever, but you would enjoy every minute of them.

He harmonized so beautifully, strumming the guitar and making silly faces at Lucie. She giggled at him, bopping her head along against the pillow. He closed his eyes, feeling the moment just as you were.

“I don’t need no money, fortune, or fame,

I got all the riches, baby, one man can claim”

He meant that with his whole heart. Harry didn’t care about how famous he was, or how much money he made. You knew she didn’t fully understand the extent of both of your public lives yet, only that people took pictures of her, and both of her parents when you all went out. One day soon, Lucie would get it, she’d understand. Then, she’d see that Harry truly could care less about it all.

“Well, I guess you’d say,

What can make me feel this way?

My girl,

Talkin’ ‘bout my girl”

His tone softened with the closing of her eyes, at first it was only a second or two, then all together. He continued the low playing of the guitar, staring down at his daughter. His small smile never faltered, the tapping of his foot lightening.

“I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day with my girl,

I’ve even got the month of May with my girl”

You wiped any of the moisture from your cheeks, watching Harry set the instrument at his feet. When he sat back up, he pushed a few of Lucie’s unruly curls back out of her face. Her hand was still in his lap, he took it in his own, putting it by her head and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Sleep well, Lulu,” he whispered.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #Harry #styles #dad!harry #harry styles au

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

do you have any,,,post prison mute dream stuff??? or like, severely quiet, silent and obedient dream shtuff?? and the consequences thereof??? bc im reading your drabbles and i am in literal awe

aww, thank you so much !! yeah selectively mute dream post prison is absolutely a hc i love and write smtimes - it’s already been suggested in canon, and it’s super fun to play w/ in post-canon works. here’s some fluffy syndicate!dream bc gosh knows we need it after the angst that we’ve been getting

tw: implied torture, panic attacks, trauma - all v short mentions. this one’s definitely on the lighter side! :D

“I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Dream startles, arms flying to cover his face, and the crow he had been signing at squawks angrily when it turns towards Phil. He ignores its chatter, smoothing his own flinch behind a smile, lowering his wings, bringing his hands, palms up, in front of him at his waist - this song and dance has become all too familiar in the weeks that Dream’s resided with the Syndicate, and Phil is nothing if not patient.

Slowly, the boy uncurls from where he’d huddled into himself, arms clasped firmly around his ribs like someone will try and take them from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough (and maybe, Phil thinks, imagining the messy lattice of scars underneath Dream’s loose-fitting hoodie that he has only seen a few times since they brought him over, someone has - but those are thoughts that are better left untouched for as long as he can manage it.) Dream’s eyes raise, flick over his face, his breathing quieting down from the discordant rattle it had been, and tentatively, ever slowly, he raises his good hand in a loose fist, letting it bob up and down. Yes.

Phil settles into the armchair across from him, raising his own hands. His fingers feel clumsy, but the memories come back with more ease than he would’ve expected - I know a little. Dream’s eyes don’t quite brighten, but his shoulders fall down from where they’d been hunched up to his ears, the hand he keeps tucked to his chest trembling slightly less, and it’s as much as a win as he’s ever going to get.

The silence stretches, familiar in its awkwardness, and Phil stifles a grimace as he forces long-forgotten memories to the surface. Dream’s hands, from what little he had seen from the doorway, had practically flown as he spoke to the crow still sitting by his right side - obviously practiced even with the still-healing injuries tracing over both arms. How did you learn?

We- He hesitates, left hand trembling violently, before pushing on, we all learned with- he signs a C, then lifts his hands to his head in a sign that Phil vaguely remembers as being the one for deer. Dream must see the questions written in his expression, because his cheeks flush as he backtracks. C-A-L-L-A-H-A-N, he finger spells, and Phil nods. That makes sense.

Some of the crows in the house must have noticed Phil’s arrival, because they storm into the room from the doorway, awkwardly hopping across the door with their wings waving by their sides as they eagerly voice their displeasure at the lack of attention. He’s not in the mood to pick out the words between their angry caws, so he simply watches as they scatter all over the room. Something almost like a smile tugs at Dream’s face as he watches them enter - the kid has grown inexplicably fond of both his flock and all of the assorted animals that Techno drags back into the house whenever he goes out, and Phil has long since resigned himself to being outnumbered one hundred to one by a literal army of mobs wherever he goes. Some of the crows had been pretty wary of Dream at the beginning, but after a few weeks more or less the entire flock has become viciously protective of the kid, sufficiently won over by gifts of head scratches and berries and various shiny things. Sure enough, the birds form a dark, squawking circle at Dream’s feet, a few flying up to tug impatiently at his clothes, and despite the (very obvious) favoritism, Phil smiles; the flock is good for Dream, as annoying as they can be.

DADZA, one calls, its lone cry soon echoed by the entire group of fluttering feathers gathered on the floor, DADZA AND DREAM DADZA DADZA. Phil laughs, a familiar warmth and exasperation filling his lungs, and he turns his attention back to Dream.

You up to some more? He tries; it’s a chance, for sure, and he brushes away the creeping anxiety crawling up his neck; he doesn’t want to make Dream panic, hopes that he’s doing the right thing. I could always use the practice.

Quiet, once again, only broken by the murmurs of his birds eagerly awaiting Dream’s answer as the boy rocks side to side in deliberation, and Phil is halfway through working out a frantic you don’t have to if you don’t want to when Dream raises his own hands.

Sure, he signs, a forced smile on his face but eyes still clear and bright, why not?

Somehow, they end up in a bastardized version of twenty questions, surrounded by birds that do not hesitate at any chance to voice their own opinions. They work through favorite colors (green), favorite flowers (roses for Dream, peonies for Phil), favorite mob (Phil answers this with a pointed definitely-not-crows, staring at the flock who have been shouting over themselves naming different colors for about five minutes, which immediately makes them devolve into screaming caws and divebombs at the edges of Phil’s cape that leave him thoroughly occupied for the next ten minutes), and at some point Phil falls further into the cushions of his chair and Dream’s legs lay against the sofa instead of being drawn up to his chest and it’s almost normal.

By the time Techno finds them, they’ve forgone structure all together, Dream watching intently as Phil signs out an embellished tale of one of the Antarctic Empire’s exploits with a crow held gently in his hands. Techno’s voice behind him startles him bad enough to send his wings snapping outwards, feathers standing on end, but Dream doesn’t react much beyond a twitch of his lips - he must’ve seen the piglin hybrid and tag-teamed to prank him, Phil realizes with a half-hearted grumble. Techno’s eyes sparkle mischievously, definitely planned, then.

“Hi Phil, Dream,” Techno shrugs off his cloak and drapes it over the back of Phil’s chair, “Looks like you’ve been busy. Can’t say I’m not feelin’ a bit left out, though; Phil, you never told me you knew sign language.”

“You never asked, mate,” he quips, even as Dream signs animatedly from the corner of his eye. T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-S-T.

Techno narrows his eyes. “I get the feelin’ that you’re messin’ with me, nerd.” Dream blinks faux innocently, smiling wider, and Phil picks up on the bit. Oh, this is fun.

He can’t understand us, he assures Dream, feeling a wicked smirk of his own growing on his face. So what do you think for dinner?

“Phil- the betrayal!” Techno splutters, voice going high and pitchy, and that reaction alone would’ve made the prank more than worth it - but Dream’s shoulders shake, eyes glittering as his fingers fly almost too fast for Phil to catch, and oh, that’s laughter, tiny, breathless giggles falling from his lips, and Techno must catch it even as he begins to berate the voices in his head, “This is not a bruh moment, Chat, don’t you start-”

Stew? Dream signs, still snickering, and he looks happy, more than Phil has ever seen him, the sight of him smiling and bright-eyed with amusement almost enough to cover for the gaunt quality of his face, the pale scars left all over his skin.

Of course, mate, Phil signs back, throwing in a do you think T-E-C-H-N-O ended up lost in those same woods again for good measure, rewarded when it sends Dream into another round of giggles. Techno grumbles without any real heat behind it, plopping himself down in the remaining chair.

“Ok, nah, no more of this exclusive club; you guys are teachin’ me this tonight before Chat loses it - yes that was an insult, don’t you start it with the E’s,” and Phil laughs, hard, the flock cawing and beginning to spam E on their own, for some reason, and Dream signing through the alphabet with the biggest grin on his face, and-

“Oh, Prime, this is going to so scuffed,” Phil says, breathless, his warning unheeded as Techno finishes his rant at Chat to focus on Dream.

And it is scuffed - it is so fucking scuffed, between Phil’s lackluster memory and Techno’s frequent interrupting to quiet down an extremely rowdy Chat and the incessant calls of the flock further egging them on, but it’s warm and Dream doesn’t stop smiling and Techno looks more relaxed than he has in weeks and the helpless, singing urge of protect protect protect that has lived in Phil’s head ever since Techno had carried Dream, beaten and bloodied and broken, through their front door finally, finally, begins to quiet down.

He tunes back into the impromptu lesson - they’ve finished the alphabet, seemingly having moved onto common words and objects, and Dream- hesitates, raises his hand, all five fingers drawn together, to the corner of his mouth and then pulls it back. Home, he signs, moving to fingerspelling, H-O-M-E. Home.

For a moment, they’re all quiet, Dream’s hand still raised by his face, even the crows falling silent as they all stare at each other. Phil watches, breath caught in his throat, as the planes of Techno’s face soften, the teasing edge of his voice, for once, leaving. “Yeah, nerd. You’re home.”

Home, Dream signs again, then again, looking up, eyes bright, hopeful. Phil thinks, proudly, that it looks like a new beginning. I’m home.

#tw torture #tw trauma #tw panic attack #syndicate!dream #my beloved #queue <3 #q stream aftermath #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

All Men Have Limits - III

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Previously on…

Bruce was having yet another night without sleep. It happened often. And similar to the rest of the family, he just learned to function on very few hours of sleep.

So, he decided to make his way down to the kitchen.

But as he walked down the long hallway of bedrooms, he noticed that Y/N’s door was open. He glanced inside to see that it was empty and her bed was still neatly made from this morning.

He looked down at this watch to see that it was almost 5AM.

A part of Bruce expected to find Y/N snacking or drinking coffee. But she wasn’t in the kitchen either.

Bruce sighed, realizing where she’d be and made his way down to the cave.

He expected to find Y/N with her eyes bloodshot and shoulders hunched over at the computers.

What he didn’t expect was to find Y/N passed out, slouched in the chair, knees in her chest and head balanced on the palm of her hand. How her elbow stayed propped up on the arm of the chair was beyond Bruce.

He smirked at the sight.

Perhaps she’d been spending too much time around the Wayne family. She was starting to adopt their bad habit of exhausting themselves.

Bruce knew she would be irritated if he moved her. But, honestly, he didn’t really care.

Carefully, Bruce slipped his arms behind her back – separating her from the chair – and then behind her knees, slowly lifting her into his arms.

Even though the movement was extremely smooth, Y/N still stirred.

“I was just taking a cat nap,” Y/N mumbled, but couldn’t even open her eyes to make the argument compelling. “I’m still working.”

“No, you’re not. Time to get some sleep.”

“Mmmm. Fine,” she slurred and tucked her head into his neck.

Bruce wasn’t sure if her mind even put together that it was him carrying her.

But he savored the closeness as he carried her out of the cave and up the stairs to the second floor of the manor.

When they got to her bedroom, Bruce put her down on the bed so softly, that she didn’t even feel it. Then he bent down to take off her shoes and unfolded the covers to tuck her in.

Just as Bruce reached the door.

Y/N woke up slightly and muttered, “Night, Bruce.”

His hand froze on the doorknob. It was so quiet that he wasn’t even sure if he had imagined it. But he couldn’t find the courage to turn and face her.

So he shut the door and let her sleep.

————

“Where’s Y/L/N?” Damian asked the table.

She usually ate breakfast with them.

“Still sleeping,” Bruce answered without looking up from the newspaper. “No one bother her today. She needs to rest,” that made him look up and give a warning look to Tim, Damian, and Dick.

Then Jason came stomping into the kitchen.

He grabbed a pastry and ate it standing up, getting crumbs all over the floor.

“Where’s ladylove?” He asked with his mouth so full that he looked like a chipmunk.

Bruce ignored him and looked back down at the paper.

But Dick frowned at him. “Don’t call her that.”

“What do you care?” Jason laughed.

Dick didn’t dignify the question with an answer. He just thrust his chair back and shoved Jason’s shoulder as he stormed past him.

“What’s his fucking deal?” Jason asked once he was out of ear shot.

“Watch your language,” Bruce warned with a glare from behind his paper.

Jason exhaled a laugh. “I’m not a kid. I also don’t live under your roof anymore.”

“And I consider that a gift,” Damian muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jason smacked the back of his head.

Damian flew out of his seat and lunged for him. “I will end you, Todd!”

“Maybe when you hit puberty, demon spawn.”

“Damian!” Bruce shouted to get his son’s attention. His son snapped to attention. But then Bruce’s tone was eerily calm when he continued with, “Control your anger.”

It was something they’d been working on since Damian arrived at the manor. Bruce guessed that Damian would always have a temper. But he needed to learn how to control it. Through time and practice, he got better.

Damian took in a deep breath, but still looked like he wanted to murder Jason.

“I will be training,” Damian announced through an irritated sigh before leaving.

Bruce glared at Jason. “Don’t push him.”

“He started it.”

“You claim you’re not a kid, so don’t act like one.”

“Speaking of kids…” Jason started with a smile.

Bruce swiftly stood up. “Don’t even try.”

Then he was gone as well, leaving just Jason and Tim.

“Well, it appears everyone is in a rather bad mood this morning,” Jason joked.

But there was no response from Tim.

“Are you sleeping with your eyes open?!?” Jason yelled.

That woke up Tim and he jumped. “Huh? What?”

————

Y/N would’ve slept the whole day if she hadn’t smelled the coffee and breakfast.

She winced as she woke up to see if her mind was playing tricks on her.

But on top of her nightstand sat a beautiful, antique tray with a full American breakfast on it, a cup of water, a giant mug of coffee, and a little vase with a tiny flower in it – a single, pink peonie.

Y/N rubbed her eyes awake with a shy smile.

Alfred was way sneakier than she realized if he could bring in a full tray like this and not even wake her up. She must be far more exhausted than she originally thought.

But then a piece of paper caught her eye. A note.

Y/N reached for it.

In the neatest handwriting Y/N had ever seen, she read:

“Perhaps you should take the day to relax. I apologize for my behavior last night.”

Y/N snorted at the word ‘behavior.’ Everything he had done last night was passive. It was more of an energy and tension than actual behavior. But Y/N had to give him credit for being aware of it. He had annoyed her last night, especially when Dick somehow took the fall for her own actions regarding her own life.

She ate the food at a disturbingly fast rate, not realizing how starved she’d felt until taking the first bite.

She would definitely miss Alfred’s cooking when she finally left Wayne Manor… whenever the hell that would be.

Y/N hoped it was sooner rather than later.

‘No, you don’t. Liar.’ A voice said inside her head.

Once Y/N had finished eating at light speed, she threw on a pair of baggy jeans and a cropped sweatshirt. She grabbed her coffee and carried it through the hallway.

She heard typing coming from Bruce’s office. He hadn’t used the room since she starting stay at the manor. So, her curiosity got the best of her and she leaned into the doorframe.

Bruce was wearing a navy polo that fit tight on his toned body. He was behind the desk, typing on the computer with his brow folded in concentration.

He immediately noticed her presence and looked up from his work.

“Hi,” she said shyly before she leaned her back into the doorframe and took a sip of coffee.

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“Thank you for the breakfast.”

Bruce leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I can’t take credit for the actual cooking,” he admitted with a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” Then she looked around the study. “I was on my way to the cave when I heard you in here.”

Bruce frowned at that. “I thought you were going to take the day off.”

“I think you thought I was taking the day off.” Then she raised an eyebrow and glanced at all the work spread out on his desk. “Maybe you should take a break.”

“This is Wayne Enterprises, not my…nighttime…activities.”

Y/N shrugged and sipped more coffee. “Still work.”

Bruce rubbed his face. “Guess so.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Y/N walked into the room and didn’t break eye contact. “If you take the day off, so will I.”

She expected Bruce to immediately shoot down her offer.

But he was smirking as he considered her proposition.

“Deal,” he told her before standing up and walking out from behind the desk.

He got unnecessarily close, invading her space.

Bruce held out his hand.

Y/N grinned at the formal gesture, but shook his hand.

But when their hands gripped together, the gesture no longer felt formal. It felt intimate. Y/N’s grin fell when she acknowledged it.

“What did you have in mind?” Bruce asked. He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

If he felt the same intimacy as she had, he didn’t show it.

Y/N cleared her throat. “How about something simple? Maybe a walk?”

Bruce nodded slowly. “A walk sounds good.”

“Well, then what are we waiting for?” Y/N sassed.

He shook his head and almost rolled his eyes before gesturing to the door, silently telling her to go first.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was getting an informal tour of the grounds at Wayne Manor from the owner himself.

Y/N listened closely, genuinely finding all the history interesting. Bruce was surprisingly a good storyteller – even if he was more informative than colorful.

“I know you had a hard childhood. But it still must’ve been nice growing up in a place like this,” Y/N tried to tell him.

“I suppose so.”

He glanced at Y/N and found her giving him an encouraging look, as if she was silently begging him to say more, to share more.

But he left it at that.

“Damian is rather fond of animals. That’s why we updated the old outbuilding. He keeps his horses there…amongst other things.”

Y/N chuckled and nodded, “He was telling me about Batcow the other day.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate me telling you this, but I think Damian has enjoyed having you around – all the boys have.”

Y/N hummed and turned to fully face Bruce. “And what about you? Have you enjoyed having me around?”

“Wayne Manor is the safest place for you right now.”

“That’s not what I asked, Bruce.”

But he already knew that.

Y/N waited. Because she wasn’t going to let him ignore her question.

“Dick has taken quite a liking to you,” Bruce said quietly.

“Don’t change the subject,” Y/N snapped.

He opened his mouth to continue, but she cut him off.

“We’re not talking about me and Dick. We’re talking about me and you.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Y/n took a step closer to him. “Why did you kiss me the other night?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Did you not want me to?”

“What does it matter?” Y/N sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I want to know what you’re thinking. I thought I put up walls. But you give me nothing, Bruce. Absolutely nothing. One second I think you see me as a nuisance, then the next you’re fucking kissing me.”

“You’re not a nuisance.”

“Oh, he speaks!” Y/N threw up her arms.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” He asked evenly.

Always calm and collected. Overly polite. Controlled. Closed off.

“Forget it,” Y/N breathed and started walking back to the manor.

But after she was a few yards away, she realized she wanted to say one last thing and turned back around.

“Not that it matters. But I did. I did want you to kiss me.”

“Then why did you run away?” Bruce asked.

“Because I knew you would do it eventually. And I was trying to protect myself.”

So much for a “day off.” When Y/N was upset, she turned to her work to take her mind off of things. Was it denial? Was it displacement? She didn’t like to dwell on it. And most of the time, there was no one in her life to call her out for it.

Y/N thought she was emotionally distant, but Bruce won that race by a landslide. And she found it infuriating.

It was interactions like the one she just had that made Y/N think everything Dick tried to tell her about how Bruce saw her was utter bullshit.

Y/N arrived to the cave with an energy she was definitely not expecting.

Damian and Dick were training on the lower level while Tim and Jason observed from the sides.

Y/N had seen footage of each of them fighting before. It was one of the research pieces she’d watched while investigating them before figuring out their identities. But seeing it in person was a completely different experience.

Dick was using his escrima sticks, while Damian had his katana.

Jason noticed her arrival and made his way over with a smirk.

“Was wondering when you’d wake up,” he greeted.

“Please tell me that’s a sword for training and not an actual blade,” Y/N asked nervously while her eyes followed the two dancing around each other. She could even hear the blade slicing through the air.

“Don’t worry. They won’t seriously hurt each other.” He had a little side smirk. “Especially since Dick is Damian’s favorite.”

Y/N looked at Jason. “I always assumed Bruce was his favorite.”

He shrugged. “Dick’s been a father to Damian far more than Bruce ever has.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. It caught her by surprise a bit.

“Can you fight?” Jason asked her.

Her eyes widened. “No. I don’t know how to do…anything. I did one of those boxing workout classes. I hated it. All the instructors are male models, and that’s their side hustle.”

“I can assure you that was not boxing,” Jason laughed. “Why haven’t asked one of us?”

Y/N shrugged. “Seems like a waste of your time.”

“No, it sounds like a fun time,” Jason corrected.

She laughed at that.

They both watched the two again.

A few moments went by before Y/N quietly added, “I have a gun. I don’t really know how to use it. But I thought it was necessary with my…line of work.”

Jason nodded slowly. “These pansies have a certain aversion to guns.” He looked down at her. “If you need me to show you a few basics, let me know.”

Y/N quickly looked at him. “T-Thank you.”

He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Jason Todd may have been labeled an anti-hero or even a criminal at one point. But deep down, he was still a Wayne. And even though he had the reputation of the bad boy, they all knew he was a sweetheart deep down. However, Y/N was now just seeing it.

Y/N jumped when Damian was slammed to the ground.

“Jesus,” she hissed.

“He’s fine,” Jason insisted.

But then he leaned closer and started pointing out certain moves to her.

“With Dick’s gymnastics background, he incorporates a lot more acrobatics and moves that require more flexibility. He’s good at improvisation. He also leans more toward taekwondo. But with his escrima sticks, he also uses arnis.”

He looked down to make sure he wasn’t boring Y/N before he continued.

“He almost moves like a dancer,” she thought aloud, proving she was interested and engaged.

“Exactly,” he nodded. “Whereas Damian is still a kid. It’s less about power and more about agility. Before he got here, he was trained to kill. He’s mastered the sword better than any of us – but don’t tell him I said that. Damian’s had to adjust his technique and turn it non-lethal.” He smirked, “Just think devil ninja and that pretty much sums it up.”

Y/N laughed.

“And Tim?” She asked.

“Tim leans towards Kobudo, which is an ancient style developed by the Japanese. He prefers to use a battle staff. He’s smaller, so his technique is very calculated and controlled. Every move he makes counts for something. He’s extremely observant and can read his opponents like a book. Dick tries to create his openings, while Tim waits for the exact right moment.”

“Smart,” Y/N commented.

Jason nodded in agreement.

She turned back to him. “And you? What’s your style?”

“Brutal,” a voice said behind them.

Y/N whipped around to see Bruce standing behind them with his arms crossed. He’d changed, and was now wearing a tank top and sweatpants. Clearly he came down with the intention to train as well.

Jason didn’t seem surprised nor did he acknowledge him, meaning he probably knew the moment Bruce had arrived. He just didn’t care to notice him outwardly.

“Wing chun. Heavy-weight boxing. Krav Maga,” Bruce continued as if he was just listing of stats. “Angry…” he shrugged, “sometimes reckless.”

Jason scoffed at that.

“And he can’t seem to get over his complex for guns,” Bruce finished.

Jason turned to him. He was just an inch or so taller than Bruce. But he looked like he was twice the width and his muscles were somehow even bigger.

“Should we give her a show, B?” Jason offered with amusement.

“We’re not a spectacle, Jason.”

Jason looked down to Y/N. “Such a party pooper this one.”

She smirked at his sass. Bruce was not in her good graces right now, so she would support any and all mocking of him.

Y/N hadn’t even looked at Bruce since he arrived. And now she was choosing it as a perfect time to finally make her way to her computers and away from him.

Jason didn’t miss the cold shoulder. “What did you do to piss off yet another woman?”

Bruce glared at him, and walked down to the training area with the boys.

Jason followed after him.

He looked back and forth between Bruce and up at Y/N, a plan developing in his head.

“$100 bucks Bruce can lay out Dick in two minutes,” Jason said loud enough that Y/N could hear him.

Tim and Damian shared a smirk.

Bruce and Dick glared at him.

“I’m not betting against that,” Damian announced.

Tim smiled. “But I will.”

Dick shook his head in submission, “Fine.”

Bruce needed the practice, even though he was aware Jason had ulterior motives with his request. So he just gave Dick a look of consent.

Y/N tried to ignore what was happening, even though Jason made it very clear for her. She heard the sound of fists and feet hitting skin. He heard their grunts of pain and exertion.

It wasn’t until she heard Dick torment Bruce with, “Come on, old man,” that Y/N couldn’t help but turn to watch them below the platform she worked on.

Dick’s teasing worked, but not in his favor.

Bruce no longer took it easy on him. Maybe that’s what Dick wanted, but he was now on the defense.

They were fighting hand to hand. No escrima sticks or gadgets. Just hand-to-hand combat.

Y/N could tell the that Dick was starting to get frustrated.

Bruce, however, seemed completely calm. He knew all of the boys’ fighting styles and taught them the majority of what they knew. There was a part of Bruce in all of them. It almost made for an unfair fight.

Their movements got faster and faster. Y/N was struggling to figure out what was even happening anymore.

But just when she was about to give up her observing and get back to work, Bruce managed to get a proper grip on Dick and flipped him over his shoulder.

Dick landed on his back hard. So hard, that Y/N heard the smack and the sound alone made her feel sick.

Y/N gasped, and put a hand in her mouth when the sound came out louder than she expected.

Jason, Tim, Damian, and even Dick glanced up at her.

But Bruce was staring down at his opponent.

“Your weight placement was off and you know how to get out of that hold,” Bruce lectured. “You know better.”

Dick glared up at him.

Bruce offered him a hand up, but Dick ignored it.

“I know,” Dick growled as he got to his feet.

“You’re letting yourself get frustrated. It’s causing your mistakes.”

“I said I know,” Dick snapped louder this time.

Before an argument could really start, Alfred made his presence known by clearing his throat.

All the boys looked up at him, as well.

“What is it?” Bruce asked.

“I was rather certain you’d forgotten. Seems I was right.” Alfred cleared his throat. “I came to remind you all that the annual gala for the Martha Foundation is tomorrow night at the manor.”

“Can’t we reschedule it,” Damian whined.

Bruce shook his head. “The Court of Owls is made of Gotham’s elite – many of who are invited. If we cancel, it will cause suspicion.”

“You can’t honestly think we should risk that with Y/N being here,” Dick called out, gesturing up towards Y/N.

Bruce and Dick had a silent conversation.

Y/N knew it was about her, so she did not appreciate being excluded.

“Oh, wow. Looks like one of my safe houses is finally more secure than this place,” Y/N spoke up melodramatically.

But she should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy to escape.

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

Next chapter is gonna be fun, guys. 😈 But let me know what you thought of this one.

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 3 #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #nightwing #nightwing x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne reader insert #batman #batman x reader #batfam #batboys #dick grayson x reader x bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Note

there’s something about a yandere who has a job as a teacher that i CANNOT get out of my head

tw - implied noncon, obsessive mindsets, emotional manipulation, blatant abuse of power, non-consensual touching.

I have a KINK and I have ACADEMIC TRAUMA to go along with it. Judge me how you will, but at least enjoy the fruits of my suffering.

I think it’d be better if the darling is a bookworm, a quiet kid, a natural-born teacher’s pet who’s always been too meek to ask a question during classtime, let alone protest any unfair treatment, however severe. It might’ve been worse when you were younger, it must’ve been, but they can’t imagine how it would be. Even as a university student, an adult in all but experience, you’re shy, reluctant, accepting a failing grade on your first paper without a word, and waiting a solid week before you ask them to review your second, tripping over your words as you ask them to maybe, briefly, possibly go over your research again, if they have time, of course. You almost refuse when they offer to tutor you personally, you look like you want to refuse, but you don’t. They knew you wouldn’t. They doubt you’ll ever stop biting your tongue long enough to do something that bold.

No, you don’t refuse. You don’t turn them down when they ask you to sit a little closer, despite the size of their empty office, and you keep your mouth shut when they get up to lock the door, going on about how much they’d hate to be interrupted. You just look away when they rest a hand on your thigh, gripping your pen a little tighter when they start to let their touch wander, and you never say a word, never make a sound. That’s the best part, honestly, it’s what they really like about you. The walls are thin and the campus is far from empty, but you’re such a soft little thing, so easy to make helpless. You don’t scream, you don’t sob - you just cry, hiccup, let out little pitchy noises that they’d die to hear when their hand doesn’t have to be clamped over your mouth, when they get to lay you down on something more romantic than a wooden desk. You can’t even talk, afterward, you can’t even push them away, keeping your face buried in their chest as you try to hide all those pretty tears, trying and failing to walk on your own, apologizing over and over and over again, like you did something wrong, like it’s your fault you’re so lovable. Obviously, they won’t hold it against you. They’ll tell you that, make sure you know how wonderful you were, how well you did, how perfect you are. It doesn’t do much to calm you down, but they know you’re listening, and they know you’ll take it to heart.

You’re their star pupil for a reason, after all. They wouldn’t trust you with such an important responsibility if they didn’t know you could handle it.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere theory #general

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kirschteinsj · 3 years

Text

Pinky Promises

Nanami x fem! reader

Warnings: nothing too much! maybe language but overall just a bunch of fluff and lovey dovey stuff

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Domestic Nanami and reader, just thinking about how much they love each other. sappy and cute stuff.

A/N: Hi! ^_^ Second time posting, I’ve had this one shot saved for a bit now! finally posting it lolz. I've noticed a lot of people have written domestic Nanami pics or drawn art, very glad society as a whole has this perception of him. it truly heals the soul I think. anyway, I hope u like this and sorry if there’s any grammar errors I wasnt able to catch U_U im thinking of doing a hc post next.... unsure hm, we’ll see ^_^!!

“I’m hooooome.” He says loudly as he steps through the apartment door, setting his briefcase down and taking off his beige coat. Putting down the grand kitchen knife she was using to chop up spinach, she rushed to the door with a smile and engulfed the tall blonde into a tight hug, saying hello. She took a deep breath, inhaling the soft scent of his cologne, the smell of something sour and musty soon taking over. Her face scrunched up and she let out a giggle.

“Oh god, Nanami, you stink, what did you go against today?”

“Nothing too bad. Just a grade 3,” He sighed “A smelly grade 3.” He sounded disappointed, probably because he knew he stunk too. Though the smell was horrendous, she still remained in his arms and he still held on just as tight.

“Are you tired? I was thinking of making dinner with you tonight but if you’re too tired I can-”

“No no. I’m fine. Just let me wash up and I’ll help out.”

“You sure?” She asked looking up towards him, questioning once more to reassure. He looked down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m sure, dear.”

While he showers upstairs, she gets back to readying the ingredients so they could begin cooking their masterpiece as soon as possible. Tonight she had chosen chicken alfredo with a tossed salad; One could say it was her favourite, but saying that would imply that she would eat it when cooked and served by whomever. But to her, she would only eat it when it was him who had made it for her.

Y/n adored him. He adored her. To her, he was her light. She could simply not imagine life without him, not after he had come in and changed her in such a way. She never in a million years would have thought to be so in love with someone. To have known someone who cared enough to hear all about her day or listen to all her tangents, whether they made sense or not. Who listened to her talk forever about anything just so he could see the faint glow of passion in her eyes. Someone who remembered the small details in regards to the things she loved and the things she despised; Like how she hated the feeling of peanut butter on her fingers and how she absolutely admired the scent of fresh pages in a new book. Sometimes, she felt undeserving of him.

He admired her like no other. Never did he believe he’d be capable of opening up to anyone in such a way, at least not until she walked into his life. He could write a million lists, all full of everything he loved about her. The way she smiled cheekily at him after a witty remark, how she'd give every hug as if it was the last, the way she was oh so patient with him. It took him time to become vulnerable in the slightest, he just didn’t know how to do so without burdening her. She knew his job was hard, he’d told her. But rather than running away like he expected, she stayed with him right by his side. She refused to leave him over that. If anything, it made her want to stay more since she felt the need to be there for him. It felt like a punch to the gut but a good one. “So, is this love?” He had asked himself then. Nanami had someone who brought out the much more joyful side to him. At the end of the day, he knew he’d walk through the front door only to see her, arms wide open and with a big smile offering a cozy hug. She was his home. Sometimes, he felt undeserving of her.

Putting the final piece of broccoli into the container, she tidies any clutter and went back to their shared bedroom. Sinking into the bed and falling on it with a plush thump, she lets out a deep sigh mixed with some sort of a groan. She herself was exhausted from work too to say the least. She didn’t deal with curses or anything like that, but she did teach a class of 9 year olds which one could consider just as frustrating. Yawning, she checks her phone to read the time: 6:15 PM. Nanami hadn’t been in the shower for too long, a small nap wouldn’t hurt. Quickly, she settled for a little 30 minute nap. That way, she could get up soon enough to help him out in the kitchen and not abandon him to do everything on his own. She turns her phone off and slowly, her eyes shut.

…

Y/n slowly opens her eyes and notices a grey throw blanket placed on her, something that she doesn’t recall going to bed with earlier. “Must’ve been Nanami.” Grabbing her phone, she turns the screen on, wincing at the incredible blue light piercing into her skull. “Fuck.” she mumbles. Once her eyes adjust, she glances back at the screen for the time: 7:30.

“FUCK,” she says, voice croaking “I overslept.” With the speed of light, she leaves bed and runs down the hall to the bathroom to freshen up. She soon makes her way over to the kitchen silently, slightly ashamed and guilty. Y/n mumbles a whine with a frown, “He’s probably done making things now. I could have helped.”

The kitchen is filled with the delicate scents of sauces, cheese and herbs. She watches him from the door frame, admiring her boyfriend. He stood in front of the stove mixing at the sauce for the alfredo, which scent alone made her mouth water. Nanami seems to be in his own world, as he stands humming to himself softly, stirring the pot of sauce and adding in the broccoli and spinach, not seeming to notice y/n. With a final stir, he carefully sets the lid and turns to rinse his hands. Her gaze sits upon his figure, how his grey oversized shirt slightly clings to his shoulders and loosens as it goes down his body. Looking down, she noticed the bright red christmas pyjamas he had on, the ones with adorable little reindeers all over them. Grinning, she remembers how she had bought those for him. She purchased a matching set for the two of them and insisted on wearing them all day on Christmas last year. Nanami had responded to the idea with a stern “No” which left y/n in shambles. She didn’t expect him to agree, but hey, a girl can dream. However, on Christmas day, lo and behold, she had woken up to find Nanami sitting on the couch, watching the news with his reindeer PJs on. Immediately, she had attacked him with hugs and kisses and all Nanami did was sit there and accept them, secretly loving it the whole time.

A deep voice throws her out of her thoughts. “You know, it’s rude to stare, right?”

Y/n chuckles quietly and makes her way over, wrapping her arms around him from behind, snuggling into his back.

“I like to stare at you, you’re cute,” she breathes in his scent once again, “ah, you smell so much better now. Like the nami I know.”

“I am not cute. I am a grown man.”

“C’mon, you can’t possibly be saying that right now. Not while you’re wearing these pants.” She coos, gently patting his butt. He goes silent, refusing to rebuttal knowing that he’s lost. He leans against the counter, his front facing her. Though he didn’t say anything, y/n sees this as an open invite to his arms. The rope of his arms finds her waist this time, her arms in an embrace around his neck.

“Whatever, tell me, how was your day, hm?” He posed, changing the subject.

“Same old, yenno. The kids and I had a discussion today about drugs and safety. It was cute, hearing them rat out their neighbours for smoking cigs and talk about how yucky they thought alcohol is. It was… sweet. How was work for you, hon?”

“Shit.” He retorts, closing his eyes, “Work is shit.”

“Oh come ON, I’m sure it’s not always that bad, right? Say, how’s your friend doing, you know, the one who kinda looks like one of my makeup brushes! Isn’t he good company?”

“Yeah, if good company means having to deal with a nuisance to society on a daily basis then by all means, yes, Gojo is wonderful company.” He joked, loosening his grip on her and making his way over to the stove to check on his sauce. She follows, opening the first drawer and pulling out a silver spoon, “You’re so mean sometimes. I think he’s a great guy to be around! I met him once, such a flirt.”

He teases calmly, “If you love him so much, why don’t you get with him?”

Taking her spoon, she lowers it into the pot and brings it back up to her face, blowing on it carefully before she puts it to her lips to taste. “Hmm, I would. But I don’t think he’s as big as you. I’ll have to pass.” She smirked, putting the spoon into her mouth as he watched and sighed in disappointment.

He glares,“God, you’re something else.”

“I’m just kidding, babe.” Bringing her spoon down for another taste. He swats at her hand and she retreats it with a whine. “Don’t do that. You’ve tried it already, and will again when we get to eat.” He scolded tenderly, “Plus, you shouldn’t be given these privileges anyway. It’s not like you helped out or anything.” He smiled, teasing her.

“Nanamiiii, I’m sorry,” she whines, half laughing, “I promise, I was going to help! I just got a little bit sleepy and sort of lost track of time…” He turned over to her and lifted her face with a finger under her chin. Laughing, he delicately caresses her cheek, tapping it admirably with a curled finger. The blonde chuckles and looks her in the eyes, “I’m just joking with you, love. I know you’ve been tired lately, I can tell. Why haven’t you been resting?”

Her smile falls and she sighs. Y/n wrapped her arms around his waist and brought him into her, hiding her face into his chest. It was true, she was exhausted but she didn’t deem it to be anything so serious. Work was just heavy this past week from having to grade her students’ work in time for report cards. All she wanted was the best for her kids and was finding ways to get the kids out of their comfort zones enough to do well in class. That reminded her, Nanami also mentioned having a student of his own.

She takes her face out of his chest and glances upwards. “It’s just this week of work, I promise I’ll be back to normal soon. I’ve just been busy with lesson plans and activities, yenno. Anyway, speaking of students, how’s the one you’ve been assigned to?” She posed in a soft tone. Half smiling, he turned around to add the strained pasta to the sauce, scattering it into the pot.

“He’s special. Quite lively. And cheerful. He reminds me of you sometimes,” his voice strains as he stretches to grab the bowl of cooked chicken to finally add into the pot, finishing the meal, “He’s got potential.” Y/n beamed with happiness. Nanami really seemed to like this kid and if he thought you had potential, then it sure as hell meant you had it.

She lets out a squeal, “EEEEEEK!!! That sounds amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Nanami suppressed a laugh and rolled his eyes, “It’s not that-”

“This calls for a drink, don’t you think?” She babbled with excitement, “We should have some wine! Right?”

Grabbing her wrist as she skipped her way over to the bottle, he reminded her, “You have school tomorrow. You always end up having more than needed and struggle to wake up in the morning.” Y/n frowned at his words, to which he noticed and tried to fix, “Tomorrow’s Friday, you can drink plenty tomorrow, hm? I’ll drink with you.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re right. But you have to promise.”

“I promise you ca-”

“No! You have to pinky-promise.” She demanded, pouting as he stuck out her pinky finger.

His heart skips a beat. Was she always this cute? Her angelic eyes stare into his tired ones. Bottom lip poking out, awaiting Nanami’s pinky to interlock with her own. He knew she took pinky-promises very seriously despite her grown age. It was among one of the many petty details that he cherished. Something about this pinky-promise was enough for her to ensure trust onto someone, it made him laugh. Her naivety is what made her so kind hearted, what allowed her to see the best in people. He felt that this naivety is why they’re together to begin with. He didn’t ever think she’d give him a chance. He reminisced of their first few encounters. The way she did her hair back then, the way she dressed, her shy smile and how she’d look at the floor whenever she’d blush. Maybe it was her timid nature that made him fall head over heels for her. Or maybe it was her generosity. Perhaps her beauty. He was unable to simply confine the reasoning for his infatuation with just a few traits. She grew overtime, more comfortable and less shy, she was more confident around him but he knew he could still make her blush so badly that she’d have to hide her face from him. He enjoyed their banter, her company. He felt it was luck. Or maybe it was fate. Who knows. He didn’t want to think so much about it. He wanted to live in the moment, adore her in this present time. In that instance, he felt the strong urge to kiss her. And so he did.

The kiss was short and sweet, yet full of an unfathomable amount of love. It took her aback, she didn’t quite see it coming. She too stood in the present moment, then and there, cherishing the man she loved.

His lips leave hers and he extends the smallest finger on his hand, declaring, “I pinky-promise.” And a ginormous grin washes over her face. In a whisper, she squeals and scoops her arms around his torso, resting her head onto his chest. They stay like this for a while, not too long really, but to them it felt like an eternity being in each other’s affectionate embrace. He goes to speak and she feels the vibrating boom of his voice make his way up from his chest.

“I love you.”

She sighs, “I love you too.”

Turning her head, y/n smoothly gets on her tip toes and clasps her arms around his neck, giving it a tender kiss and attempting to make a trail leading up to his sharp jaw. Catching onto her tactics he laughs, putting his big hand against her face and pushing her back.

“Seriously?” He chuckles, “You couldn’t wait till after dinner? Come on, take out the plates.”

“Wait for what? I was just kissing you! You’re so dramatic, Nami.” She lies, playing innocent. She knew damn well what she was trying to do. She wasn’t going to admit to it though. Taking out the plates and utensils, she readied the table.

…

After dinner and meaningless conversation, the two lovers tidied and headed towards their room. “Do yo wana wah a mohee tomowwow nie?” Y/n proposed from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. He perks his head up, confused, “Do I want to what?” She spat into the sink and rinsed her mouth, repeating her question.

“I said, do you wanna watch a movie tomorrow night? Like at home? There’s this documentary I saw on Netflix, it looks really good! It’s crime related.”

“That sounds fine with me. Though, that’s only possible if you don’t end up drinking too much. I always have to get you to sleep early when you drink.” He states nonchalantly, nose poked into a thick book. She rolls her eyes and smiles, “I promise I won’t drink all that much.” Shifting his book to the opposing hand, Nanami silently takes his pinky finger and holds it out to y/n. She snickers and reciprocates.

“You’ve now pinky-promised. Don’t break it, y/n.”

“I never do.”

The nightstand lamp illuminates the room with a soft yellow glow. Shadows of objects on the nightstand hang on the walls. Laying in bed on her phone, y/n turns over to Nanami, who was still reading his book. “Nami, come lay next to me, I wanna cuddle. Please?” Her voice faint. He looks down at her and puts his book away immediately. He could use a cuddle too. Bringing himself down, he lays on his back, y/n closing the gap between the two. Their legs intertwine, her arm and head resting on his chest while one of his hands rested on her bum, the other dotingly playing with her hair. Neither of them spoke a word for a while. Until y/n broke the silence.

“So, were there no other pairs of pants you had left to wear or-”

“Please, be quiet.”

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