#it was very funny to us so I hope it amuses someone else too

[attapullman]

Robert's Laundry Service | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A broken washing machine and a clogged bathroom sink lead you and Robert to explore the next part of your secret relationship.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Bob Floyd x afab!reader, no use of pronouns, no y/n, a little angsty, very smutty, 18+ ONLY as always, unprotected PinV, use of sex toys, language, a lot of cum mentions, neighbor!Bob being perfect as usual

A Note From Mo: Did anyone else miss neighbor!Bob? He needed some love, and that's what he's getting today! Thank you to @roosterforme for inspiring this idea that I took entirely too far. If anyone needs me, I'm going to be hoping that he moves into the empty apartment next to mine 🙏 p.s. this takes place before Stupid White Car

It’s hard to pay attention to the bad diagnosis he’s giving when your visual is just those threadbare grey sweats. Painted to his strong thighs, poking out from behind the washer like a personal serving of eye candy. You’re meant to be shining the flash light, but you long abandoned that task in favor of the view.

“…you can borrow mine in the meantime. I’ll call a guy Monday.”

Reluctantly, you draw your eyes from his lower half. Just as his words sink in.

“It’s broken?!”

Robert gives you a kindly amused grin. “Sweetheart, did you hear anything I’ve been saying?”

You grace him with a sheepish smile, caught red-handed.

“The tube disconnected from the wall and needs to be properly - professionally - connected before you use it again. I know it’s not the same, but you can do laundry at mine until someone comes out. I can make you tea and we can watch that undercover dating show you like?” His soft smile is as sweet as his offer.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Hey now, you like that show too.”

Those cornflower blues shine, glad you’re not objecting. “I do, but only because it’s funny when you yell at the drama.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you away from the laundry, back to where the two of you had been trying to decide on takeout over a game of checkers. Allowing him to drag you down to the couch, hips colliding into the soft fabric, you resume a lovely afternoon with Robert. 

Robert, your helpful Mr. Fix It neighbor. And maybe, one day, your boyfriend.

Robert lending you his laundry room for the weekend is so generous. It feels a bit silly carrying your delicates through his back yard (especially when you know a few pairs are crusty from your…sleepovers) but you’ll take his selfless offer if it means clean laundry and a lovely afternoon spent with him. 

As you work your way past the kitchen, you’re caught off-guard once again by how charming his home is. The little bits of personality, the framed photographs and handmade trinkets. While you know he can’t get any more perfect, his home makes a compelling argument.

The laundry room is fairly unremarkable - washer, dryer, large farmhouse sink for the unsavory jobs too nasty for the kitchen - but you do like his view of the neighborhood from the window. You’re almost curious if anyone will walk by and notice you standing in the wrong house, lacy balconette bra in hand.

Already regretting the amount of folded laundry you’re going to have to haul back through the gate after this, you begin prepping a load of lace and satin. Brainstorming ways to expedite the process, you overshoot pouring detergent into the water-filled drum and spill the cobalt goo all over your hand. Shit.

You rush over to the sink, subjecting yourself to freezing water to wash the detergent off your fingers. Once sufficiently clean, you reach for a cloth to dry off. And that’s when you see it. 

Oh. You’ve never seen one in real life before, just in porn and the odd naughty ad while scrolling. It almost feels as if you’re being punk’d. Like if you sliced through it, it would actually be cake.

A cock ring, soft silicone and all. Casually sitting on the sideboard, freshly cleaned.

Every muscle in your body freezes as the implications of seeing something so private wash over you. Something meant between lovers that you had never seen in the weeks since that fateful night you let him in for a cup of tea. 

It’s been a few days since you had last slept over. A scary sinking feeling fills your gut…was there someone else? 

You had been so focused on the neighborhood not knowing. Staying in your homes, using the back gate. It wasn’t like you had ever verbalized your intentions with him. You couldn’t blame him for thinking the two of you as casual, as much as it twisted your insides.

As your thoughts spiral, there’s motion in the doorway and Robert is suddenly there, big shoulders and a soft smile on his face at seeing you in his space. Exactly where he wants you.

“You get it going in here? Find the detergent okay?”

Those kind cobalt eyes follow your gaze to the sink, where you can’t break your focus on the dark silicone device. The one he meant to put away before you came over. His cheeks flush as he steps into the room to attempt to explain why he has something so private sitting out - in his laundry room of all places.

But as he goes to open his mouth, you cut him off. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t need to know everything in your….sex life. You’re obviously welcome to do whatever you like in the privacy of your home.”

His eyebrows raise, unsure why you seem so upset when the only issue is a clogged sink in the ensuite last night. 

You edge around him, desperate to get out of this space - his space - away from everything that reminds you of him as he figuratively slips through your fingers. “We never discussed being exclusive, so I get it.”

“What are you-?”

Tears threaten to spill over as he follows you toward his back door. “But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with us seeing other people, so-”

Robert’s eyes bug out of his head. Seeing other people? His blood pressure rises as the dots connect behind those pretty eyes, and suddenly he’s racing to cut you off. You’re faster than you look, but before you can turn the handle of the back door he’s plastered his body against the wood, effectively blocking you from leaving.

The pain behind your eyes begs him to move, to let you run back to the safety of your own home so you can cry and despair over not locking him down sooner. Of course there’s someone else. Of course you’re not the only one who can see how great Robert Floyd is.

“Robert, I need to leave. I need a moment alone. Please.”

But he holds his ground. The second you walk through that door he knows he’s lost you. His eyes are cautious behind those thick lenses, wanting to obey your wishes but the risk of losing you making every nerve stand on end. Whatever is wrong, he can fix this. He will fix it.

“Sweetheart.” His fingers reach into the space between you, hand clenching into a fist when he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch you right now. “There isn’t anyone else. I promise, you’re…you’re the only one.”

You eye him hesitantly, wanting to believe his words. But that cock ring has never made an appearance in your sleepovers. Never once brought up when he’s standing between your parted thighs, lips slotted against yours.

“I really want to believe you, I do. But why else would you be cleaning your, erm, toy?” You can’t bring yourself to say cock ring without bursting into frustrated tears.

It’s now that the fight within him drops, and immediately his shoulders release. Embarrassment floods his features and he drops his gaze, no longer able to look you in the eye. This is not how he anticipated bringing this dynamic into your relationship.

“That…it’s…I-I use it when I’m alone. I like to, uh, edge myself.”

His cheeks are flaming and the burning despair inside you dissipates into intrigue. A flame traipses through your abdomen, curious and hungry.

“You use it…alone?”

He desperately nods, tentatively reaching out to grasp your hands, needing to feel you. Those thick, strong fingers rub against your knuckles soothingly. Despite the whiplash of emotions conflicting inside you, his presence immediately soothes and you lean into his touch.

“The nights you can’t come over…I prefer to save my orgasms for you. Only you.”

His blush reflects yours as you look into those ocean-deep eyes, the desperation clear across his features. He’s being honest, laying out every last secret he’s got to keep you here.

“So, there’s no one else?” Your voice feels so small, barely a whisper in the kitchen.

He shakes his head definitively, using his grip on your hands to bring you closer as he stares deep into your eyes. “There’s no one else. And the fact you would even think that means I’m not doing a good enough job proving how much I care for you. Because I like you so much, sweetheart, so, so much.”

The tension in your body breaks, and you allow yourself to lean into his strong body. His panic dissipates as he holds you to him, one arm flush against your waist as his hand holds your face to his chest. He’s never letting you go, of that he knows for sure.

He can’t believe there would be any doubt in your mind of his intentions. The sleepovers, the dinners in, the way he’s made a home between your thighs…that makes you official, doesn’t it? He’s never been one for the right words, but he was pretty sure his actions proved he was in this for the long haul. 

You’re too important to mess up. To allow any seed of doubt to spread. 

His nose traces along your temple, warm breath kissing the delicate skin. “Can I take you to bed, sweetheart?” 

Your face lifts from his chest to take in his honest face. The loose tendril of sun-lightened brunette that’s escaped his neat hairstyle. The thin lopsided smile you trust in. Eyes behind corrected lenses that are serious and playful in the same breath. 

In lieu of an answer, you mold your lips to his, drinking in his taste you’ve deprived yourself of for days. His kindness and sincerity sink into you, surrounding you the pleasantly overwhelming way his body does as he wraps around you. Holding your hips as he swallows your tongue, shifting himself to feel every dip and curve of your body.

As his lips find your neck, the laundry room comes back into view. A delicious thought swirls in your mind and the words burst from your mouth.

“Can I see?”

He nuzzles against your jaw, grinding his erection against your thigh. 

“See what?” He’s distracted by how good you smell, how soft your skin feels beneath his fingers.

“I want to see you with the cock ring. Show me, please?”

Arousal floods his mind, images of you naked beneath him while his balls throb with cum just for you. No words needed before he’s pushing you in front of him to his bedroom. He’s ready to show you just how devoted he is to you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, it feels like the first time with him all over again. Anticipation of the unknown, drowned in heavy lust. 

His eyes rake over you as he enters the room, lust darkening those soft blue eyes. You’re exactly how he wants you always - in his bed, eager for his touch. Right now, he’s yours.

Taking the spot between your legs, strong fingers stroking along jean-clad thighs, his broad frame bends toward you to rest his forehead against yours. That button nose knocking into yours. 

“There’s been no one else since the day you moved next door. I’m yours, only yours.”

The build up of emotions behind your eyes threatens to spill over as he presses his lips to yours. Cups the back of your head as he leans into you, applying the softest pressure. Pouring every ounce of his devotion into his kiss.

Your legs wrap around his slim hips, needing to feel his security and care. He’s the most helpful man to exist, and you know he’ll guide you through this dynamic. 

Kisses turn sweet to frantic to passionate as Robert holds your face. Your lips are chapped when he finally pulls away, strong chest rising and deflating. You know you mirror his disheveled aroused appearance. His hand reaches behind to his back pocket.

He holds the black cock ring between you, freshly washed, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight peeking through the curtains. “Are you sure about this?”

Your apprehensive eyes meet his, although a slight smile plays along your lips. “Play dirty with me. Please.”

Condensation beads on the lower rims of his glasses as he dips his face to kiss you, his skin flaming hot. The kiss is sinful yet curt, not wanting to lose himself before practicing restraint. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, savoring his flavor. He hums against your mouth as your hands find his waist, heart picking up speed as your fingers find the button of his jeans. 

Robert clenches the cock ring in his fist, already struggling to hold his load as the softness of your skin wraps tightly around his hardening cock. 

His eyes are lidded, thin mouth already agape from the pleasure of your fist stroking firmly up and down his shaft. Can barely keep focus between the way you squeeze his deep pink tip and the spectacular view down your top, his mind running wild at the all the skin he needs to touch. He’s practically forgotten the reason for his view until you lick your lips sweetly and ask.

“Can I put it on?”

Fingers unfurl and present the silicone ring to you, warm from his clenched fist. You press the ring between your fingers, taking in the smooth design and thick circumference. Glide your thumb along the little button that makes it vibrate. 

He’s panting above you, already wrecked at the vision. The only two things he deems worthy of his cock, right in front of him. 

Bringing the ring up to your lips, he watches as you run your tongue along it, gathering your saliva to glisten along the silicone for a smoother glide. Your fingers effortlessly slipping along the edge before you touch it to the sensitive tip of his cock. 

His fingers curl around the nape on your neck, holding the hair there, grounding himself. Between your ministrations and the pressure of the ring slipping down his length, he’s dizzy with stimulation. His cock immediately swelling in response. Lip between his teeth to contain the gruff moans you’re desperate to hear.

Your eyes are focused on the firm grip the ring has on the length of him, sliding down until your thumb is brushing his heavy ballsack, pulsing with need. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last.” He’s panting against your forehead, trying so hard to be patient, but wanting nothing more than to thrust into your fist and chase his orgasm. 

You tilt his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips. A promise to take care of him, because you and you alone are responsible for his pleasure. Always.

Sliding back onto the soft coverlet, you raise your hips to remove your jeans. Skin growing warm at the wanton look of need in Robert’s eyes as you unbutton your top. His voice but a whine when you sit in front of him in nothing but the delicate chain around your neck. 

“So beautiful.”

It’s impossible to tell whose whimpers are more desperate as you run the shiny-slick swollen head of him against your core. Moaning as it catches on your entrance, ready to sink deep into those velvet depths. Voices becoming one as you impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s all yours.

He can’t believe anything could be better. This is Nirvana. Until you reach between to where your bodies meet and hit that tiny little button.

“Fuck!” He never swears, and yet that filthy word streaks through the room with a bite. Yelped loudly as he buries his face into your neck. The combination of vibrations and warm, tight pussy sending him into a spiral. Groaning out praises into your neck like it’s his last day alive.

You can’t help the grin on your face as you experience him come undone. How had you been denied the pleasure of watching him like this? The salt of his neck, the wayward curl stuck to his forehead? It’s a toss up if you’re getting off on being stuffed with his engorged cock or by watching the way his chest heaves for breath as he fights off his orgasm.

“Are you going to cum for me?” You’re drunk on power watching him like this, rutting his hips into you over and over for a pleasure that won’t come until you decide. His nod so desperate it goes right to your clit. His swollen cock stretching you beyond what you thought possible. The frisson of skin on skin, those tiny yet powerful vibrations, and his affection for you is overwhelming. 

The ring fully still in place, your orgasm wracks your body, convulsing over the sheets. Barely able to notice his soft lips brushing the arch of your breasts as he consumes your satisfaction. Drinking in the sounds of your moans as they mix with his wet thrusts. 

Your sleepy eyes are all he focuses on as he chases his orgasm, fighting past his usual routine of stopping here when he only has his hand. Right now he gets to have it all - the constricted blood flow, the vibration, and you. Perfect, wonderful you. His hands fist in the bedding, rooting himself, as sinks his hips deeper with precise strokes. 

He can do this. He will show you you’re the only one for him.

Body quivering, his face is bright red as he thrusts, exertion bringing the vein in his forehead out with a matching bead of sweat. Robert feels his body take on a new consciousness as you ask for his cum once more.

His grunts are filthy - animalistic and deep. The first stream of cum he’s ever experienced with the ring on filling your stretched pussy, claiming you as his. Head fuzzy, he takes a moment to pull himself from your soft embrace and jerk his engorged cock, shot after shot of cum pumping out across your body. A painting only he gets to witness.

His tank now empty, you feel the soft thump of his body fall beside yours. Hear him catch his breath in the quiet afternoon air.

Exhausted, his face knocks into yours - glasses already lost to the coverlet - as he comes to reality once again. Strong arms reaching to pull you to him. Lackadaisical kisses to your cheek before risking a glance down and laughing abashedly.

“T-there’s so much cum. It’s everywhere.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

The carefree yet sheepish grin he gives you melts your heart. You kiss him back, not needing to look as you feel his seed dry on your skin in the golden hour light. He very truly marked you as his, just as he is yours. 

Smoothing your fingers through his hair, memorizing every little detail of his face - what a handsome face - you ease his embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just throw the sheets in the washer and enjoy dinner. It’s fine, really.” 

His washer currently filled with your delicates complicates things, but your big, sweet smile soothes his self-consciousness. He returns the grin back, holding you closer. 

That night is spent eating Robert’s lasagna and playing cards until every light on the street went out. It’s far too late when the sheets are finally clean and dried, and even later when they’re successfully on the bed. But it’s worth it to him when you crawl under the duvet and beckon him closer, needing one last kiss from your boyfriend before sleep.

taglist: @bella-maria2018 @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @comishkat @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @erospecies @hauntedduckdefendor @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @himbos-on-ice @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @littlemsbumblebee @livingoutsidethetardis @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @melsunshine @meg-ro @midnightmagpiemama @nerdgirljen @nouis-bum @petersunderoos96 @pinkdaisies9285 @primroseluna @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @sweetwhispersofchaos @sydsommersss @topherwrites @unpretty-reader @whoeverineedtobe @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

join the taglist for any fic

#neighbor!bob #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd smut #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd smut #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick smut #bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd fan fiction #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd fic

[landsailorsky]

What Social Media the Straw Hats Would Use:

Luffy:

-Youtube- Watches videos of bugs.

-TikTok- Makes poorly shot videos of trending dances, devolving into fights. Almost no followers.

Zoro:

Can't figure out how to open apps, throws his phone. Watches YouTube with Luffy and films fights with him.

Nami:

-Instagram- filled with thirst traps.

Bio has a link to her CashApp and OnlyFans.

Usopp:

Has a podcast telling tales of his adventures. Few listeners.

"Sniper King":

Twitch- Streams first-person shooter games for a fairly large following.

Sanji:

-Reddit- Often getting into arguments (and getting banned) on r/kitchenconfidential about wasting food.

-Podcasts with Usopp.

-Biggest spender on Nami's OnlyFans

Robin:

-Tumblr- Leaves unsolicited morbid comments on aesthetic photos. Mostly posts about archeology.

-Twitch- Streams indie and horror games.

Chopper:

-Kid's Youtube- He read the terms and conditions and was too young to download any other app, so he didn't. Watches cartoons.

Franky:

-Twitter- Always letting people know he's a freak. Defending kinks. Posting Transformer's porn.

Brook:

-SoundCloud-For his music.

Insists he isn't interested in social media, would rather read a book. He's hiding a phone behind it. And is looking at Nami's OnlyFans.

#one piece #my partner started the list and we made up the details giggling together at like midnight last night #it was very funny to us so I hope it amuses someone else too #no jimbei on this list sorry #we're 600 episodes in so he's not on the crew yet in what we've seen

[signedkoko]

HEHEHHEE OPEN REQUESTS???

Hello koko! I was summoned by your open requests, and I just had an idea, how about headcanons/one shot for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who has powers a bit like Toge Inumaki in JJK?( I saw that you were watching JJK so I assume you know how his powers works) like what do they think about it? how do they react when reader uses her powers? How they communicate with her?

THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST DEAR KOKO! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

-🐚

Alastor | Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which your speech causes action, so you can't speak unless you wish to control others. Reader is female.

When you first came to the hotel, Alastor was not impressed

You were certainly a gorgeous sight, but it was ruined by the device in your hands that you had your nose buried in, screen lighting ruining your face

It took him quite a while when he heard strings of words emanating from the device to realize you were speaking through it, your fingers pressing on keys faster than he could follow

You introduced yourself to everyone that day, as a new hire for the hotel, and how you couldn't speak but hoped it wouldn't get in the way

He was certainly irked by the device in your hands, but it was funny to see someone so weak that they had to rely on a flimsy device made by an even flimsier overlord

Truly a shame

You learn the hard way not to get too close to him while using your device, or else it starts to act up and get damaged

Alastor still spoke to you; of course he did! Because he was amused knowing you couldn't retort

But eventually, without noticing, he would talk more and more, filling every aspect of the silence between you

You were the best listener, both since you had no choice and because you didn't give any shitty advice

The only thing that weirded him out was the weird clicking he started to hear around you

Something about it was so familiar

J-E-R-K-J-E-R-K-J-E-R

When he looked down at your hand and saw a clicker in your hand, he realized what you were doing

Of course he knew morse code by heart! He studied all sorts of things, but he wasn't sure why you'd do things that way when you had a much easier device

Unless you did it just for him?

R-K-J-E-R-K-J

" And who are we calling names, my voiceless companion? "

Y-O-U

Still, it's very touching to see you go from using your phone to putting it away when you come to him to talk

And not much changes since you can't get out too many words with your morse method

One evening, while on a walk together, Alastor was reciting to you how he'd come to work for Charlie and how she sang on the news for so many to see! When a group of assassins surrounded the two of you, angel steel weapons were on full display

Before Alastor handled them—which, let's be fair, would be no issue to him—you pulled quicker on the draw

" COMATOSE. "

You yelled it with your hands clamped over Alastors ears, and the instant the word came out, they all dropped, beyond unconcious

Alastor laughs, because wow, that was quite the display!

But he's already dragging you over them to continue talking, now teasing you for treating him like a helpless damsel

He was certainly glad that he hadn't made an enemy of you when he first saw you, because you may stand a chance against him with an ability like that

Most sinners had some kind of ability that grew with their power, often souls under contract or training enhancing them

Vox himself had plenty of tricks under his sleeves, and he'd seen the most pathetic of abilities to those worth cowering before

But he'd never heard of something like yours

Overlords loved showing off their resources, which could include people who became very useful in battle

You were a 'friend' of Zestial, though, while most jumped at the opportunity to introduce themselves to other overlords, you only waved

Of course you piqued his interest, because when he ran his servers over you, he found little to nothing beyond pictures

After several days of stalking video feeds, he caught you and Zestial together when—oh fuck! You sign!

While he could have just waited for the next opportunity, Vox was far too invested in your story and opted to pay Zestial a visit, if it meant he could see you

From what he could tell, you were using ASL, so once he bumped into you he began signing his typical introduction

Something about his heart sparked when he saw you smile, the way those curious eyes sparkled

He was immediately embarrassed when you revealed he didn't have to sign because you could hear

But he was all healed when you signed that you were very glad to have met someone else you could talk with

Vox is used to the overstimulation of noises from news, music, footage, all of it always beaming into his head so much that the silence around you is eerie and takes him awhile to get used to

Zestial certainly has an ace; one Vox is jealous of

Since you got along so well, you and Vox schedule meet-ups so you can interact, seeing as he and Zestial are almost exact opposites

The first time he witnesses your powers is when Alastor shows up at one of your meetings, and he was certainly trying to embarrass Vox in front of you

But Vox was your friend, and you had no tolerance for Alastors threats

" Silence. "

From your lips poured a thick fog, which whisped its way over Alastor's mouth, forming a seal that prevented him from speaking

The radio demon wasn't pleased, but he wasn't about to act up a scene right now, so he turned and left

Vox immediately fanboys because, oh my FUCKING GOD, you showed him!!!

Wait, you can talk? You sound like that?

YOUR POWERS DID THAT???

He is about to waste your evening asking all kinds of things, you probably can't sign as fast as he can ask, too

Author's Note - Conch anon gets only the BEST of the BEST!!! I did like writing these anyways though, because i adore Inumaki...thank you for requesting!

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #vox #vox x reader

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hello!! I just loooooove how you write Alastor, this unhinged bastard 😂 anyway can I request Alastor with a lesbian, chaotic reader, who's always drooling over women (especially Alastor's friends)(read: Rosie). Toooootally not self-indulgent. Obv platonic pls!! Thank you in advance 🙇

- 🥀

Omg I love this SO MUCH

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: TERRIBLE TREATMENT OF READER, reader being funny af, idk who is more unhinged, slight Mimzy X Reader, slight Rosie X Reader

Description: ☝️⬆️

First of all, he's gonna be your wingman NOT because he wants to help but because it's funny when you fail

Encourages your chaotic nature and uses it to his advantage, will not let you be caged

Someone beneath him wants to pick a fight with him??? Oh he'll give them a fight

*sets down an oversized pet carrier*

*feral animal sounds and vicious shaking*

Alastor opens the door and lets you wreak havoc on them, it's just too hilarious

All metaphorically of course

😳

They get you a toddler leash because you're always scampering off straight into trouble???

Alastor cuts it the first day Vaggie takes you out

*massive destructive explosive sounds in the distance*

"What the FUCK, ALASTOR!?"

Alastor: 😏

You're his favorite feral little ball of chaos

BACK TO BEING YOUR WINGMAN

It's amusing how quickly you change gears when it comes other women and how they enthrall you

He often gives you a handkerchief to clean up your drool, pushes your mouth shut when it's hanging open and grabs the back of your clothes to keep you upright

He does look out for you though

If Mimzy is currently in your sights then he won't let her take advantage of your attraction towards her

That greedy little thing will take you for every dime all while she flirts and toys with you

If you're feasting your eyes any of the overlords(*cough*Carmilla-*cough*Missi-*cough*Velvet-*cough*) then he'll straight up tell you no

Not him bonking your head sweetly with his staff before pushing you out of harm's way

Rosie is an exception tho

He knows she can fend you off herself if she really wants to but also that she won't really do any harm to you

Not that you're not very charming

Rosie just thinks you're adorable!! All the eager attention you're giving her! She could just eat you up!

No seriously...she could...you would taste sweet

No you're sweet

You're making her blush

And you're making her hungry

"Okay, time to go!"

So Alastor sticks around and looks out for you in those moments but he also thinks it's hilarious when you shoot your shot

Feeds you terrible pick up lines and almost dies of laughter when you actually use them

"Hey! Tie your shoes!! I don't want you falling for anyone else~"

"She actually went with that one?!"

Will properly fix your hair or clothes up before you go out on a date, he can't have you looking shabby

If you ask him for advice then he actually has some really good ideas for romance

It's just difficult to get him to give you a honest answer because it's so funny when you fumble a bad bitch

Actually, he does try to set you up with women he thinks could be good for you

"Fascinating, but have you met my good pal Y/N yet? She is QUITE a character!"

Alastor is your partner in crime and you're wingman but he's pretty terrible at both

Gah!! I hope you liked this one!! I wanted to really get the little gremlin vibes!!

#alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

[rainerioun]

𝖧𝖮𝖶 𝖣𝖮 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖵𝖨𝖤𝖶 𝖸𝖮𝖴? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hello! I thought I'd try and give a more in-depth reading. Interestingly, some of the piles seem to be similar. Perhaps this reading is meant for just a few people. I tried to keep it pretty general and unbiased whether we're talking about platonic or romantic connections, but it seems like there are hints of romantic feelings in all of them. However, if you're inquiring about a friendship or something similar, feel free to take what resonates and ignore the rest. <3

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST

PILE ONE

How Do They View You? King of Wands | Queen of Swords | Death.

To start, this person respects you heavily. They perceive you as someone exuding confidence and leading by example. You've influenced them at the very least. If you're experiencing change or have recently undergone a transformation, they want you to know they're proud of you.

How Do They View You? Dragon : Seeing One's Most True Self, Balancing Ego. | Oyster : Patient, Secret-Keeper, Hiding Inner Treasures.

They see the real you, not just the image you project. If you're shy or uncertain, they want to remind you not to underestimate yourself, and to embrace your genuine beauty and intelligence. They know that everyone else wants to see it too. I believe that they might perceive your confidence as a sort of façade.

How Do They View You? Trickster — Light : Transcending Convention, Stuffiness and Predictable Behavior. Shadow : Manipulating Others Through Duplicity.

I didn't view this card negatively; it felt more like confirmation of what I said earlier. This person understands that you don't reveal everything and perhaps even play a role, though it may not be intentional. They recognize your tendency to use humor as a shield, but they wish you would let them in a bit more because they can see through you already.

How Do They Feel Around You? Determination, Balance, Cleanse, Magic, Protection.

When this person is around you, they experience a sense of balance and comfort. They feel a protective instinct towards you, given what they know about you, or vice versa. They long to express their love and appreciation more openly and receive it in return. Reach out to them more often!

Additional. Photograph : Looking at Your Photos, Missing You, Nostalgia, Make New Memories.

They miss you if there's any current separation or lack of communication. They might even be keeping an eye on you, whether through social media or mutual connections, just to ensure you're doing alright.

Extra: Aquarius, Change, 10, Unique, Libra, Scorpio, Emotions, Bittersweet, Funny, Summer Blues, Phone Call.

Alien Blues : Vundabar | Fine Line : Harry Styles | I Wanna Be Yours : Artic Monkeys.

PILE TWO

How Do They View You? Ten of Wands [Reversed] | Nine of Swords [Reversed] | Knight of Pentacles.

This person acknowledges your ambition but finds it amusing that you can also be a bit absent-minded. It's not meant as an insult but more of a playful tease. They believe you sometimes overlook the risks around you because you're so captivated and excited by what lies ahead, which can come off as slightly immature. It reminds them of a naive child who might need a gentle nudge in the right direction, so you don't leap off the cliff hoping to grab the sun. I can picture someone stumbling clumsily while the other bursts into loud laughter.

How Do They View You? Moth : Impulsive, Hasty, Wishful | Bee : Earnest, Hardworking, Democratic.

I find this dynamic incredibly endearing. They see you as someone goofy or even whimsical. You're sensitive and vibrant, drawing people to you effortlessly, which they appreciate. Sometimes, it seems like they want to slow you down a bit so you don't scurry off too quickly. You give off a jittery vibe at times.

How Do They View You? Rescuer — Light : Provides Strength and Support to Others in Crisis. Acts out of Love with no Expectation of Reward. Shadow : Assumes that the Rescued will Reciprocate. Goddess — Light : The Feminine Expressed through Wisdom, Nature, Life Force and Sensuality. Shadow : Exploitation of the Female Nature and Form.

This person admires your kindness and charm. I can picture them giggling nonstop whenever they're with you. It's as if you have no worries, just frolicking through life carefree.

How Do They Feel Around You? Sweetness, Success, Rejection.

Once more, you're incredibly sweet to them. Normally, they feel content in your company, but there might be moments when they feel rejected. If they've made a move and you've turned them down, that's the reason. They need time to move on and accept that boundary if don't reciprocate their feelings. If not, it's because they've been dropping hints left and right, and you're just too oblivious to pick up on them.

Additional. Stabbed in the Back : Heartbreak, Pain, Separation, Shocking Attack. Camera : Remininscing, Keepsake, Perception, Learn from the Past, Make Memories. Coffee Cup : Meeting and Conversing, Savoring the Moment, Feeling Uplifted, Friendship.

Yeah, they're definitely feeling a bit disheartened that their attempts to win you over aren't hitting the mark or are just going unnoticed. But hey, you don't owe them anything, so no need to feel guilty. Regardless, they want to keep being part of your life, cherishing the friendship you've both formed.

Extra : Pisces, Indecisive, Kind, 7, Individuality, Unique, Communication, Taurus, Leo, Cancer, Junebug, Wheel, Fields.

Dangerously In Love : Beyoncé. | Hanging Your Picture Up To Dry : Cut Worms.

[18+, SUGGESTIVE.]

PILE THREE

How Do They View You? Ace of Swords, Six of Swords, Wheel of Fortune [Reversed].

I wasn't anticipating this kind of reading when I shuffled the cards. I almost reshuffled to get a more generic and 'safe' result, but I decided against it. It seems this person likes you a little more than they probably should. They perceive you as someone incredibly self-assured and inspiring, maybe even a bit out of their league. Yet, despite feeling like they're chasing you, they don't seem to mind the playful challenge and are willing to put in the extra effort to break through your defenses.

How Do They View You? Cheetah : Solar Force, Action, Achievement. | Starfish : Beautiful, Alluring, Superficial or Shallow.

This seems pretty clear-cut, lol. They view you as someone with the potential to reach any goal, maybe because your appearance tends to influence people without you even trying. They're strongly attracted to you, but they're also aware they're not alone in admiring you.

How Do They View You? Queen — Light : Radiates the Regal Feminine. Uses Her Benevolent Authority to Protect Others. Shadow : Becomes Arrogant When Authority Is Challenged. Controlling and Demanding. Hero/Heroine — Light : Passion for a Journey of Personal Empowerment. Shadow : Escapism and a False Sense of Heroism.

They definitely put you on a pedestal in their mind. Sometimes you can get a little sassy or assertive because you're clear about what you want, and they find that irresistible. They truly appreciate the natural authority you exude.

How Do They Feel Around You? Passion, Trust, Hunger.

Do I really need to elaborate? For my own sake, I'll keep it brief. You light a fire within them, and they feel like they cannot control such feelings.

Additional. The Snake : Competition, Enemy, Clever, Malicious, Look Over Your Shoulder, The Other Woman. Kisses : Unconditionally Loving, Giving and Receiving Affection, Falling in Love.

As I mentioned, they feel this urge to compete for your affection with others. They might even experience a twinge of jealousy seeing someone else getting your attention while they're so invested in you. My advice is, if this is a secret admirer or a third-party situation, it's best to tell them where they stand. If you're not interested, it's important not to lead them on. However, if polyamory is part of your dynamic, then there's no need to worry about what I'm saying; it seems like they enjoy the thrill of the chase.

Extra: 6, Virgo, Possessive, Cancer, Fussy, Moon, Emotions, Strong Needs, Candles, Stack of Papers, Show Off, Linger, Lust.

Fields of Elation : Sleep Token | Somebody Else : Bad Omens | Lost in the Fire : The Weeknd.

#metaphysical #occult #tarot #tarot reading #tarot readings #tarot reader #tarot cards #divination #divination reading #oracle #oracle cards #oracle deck #oracle reading #spiritual #spirit #spirituality #pick a card #witch #pac #tarot deck #advice #manifesation #tarot community #rainerioun #how do they see me #how do they view me #how do they feel #romance #friendship #general reading

[romanoffsbish]

Don’t Worry, I’ve Got You

GN!OC (Rio) x F!R

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | Natasha had planned to sweep you off your feet when she returned from her mission. But it seemed someone else had beat her to the punch… | WC: 5,144

Warning: Domestic Violence - Abusive OC | Mentions of Sexual Coercion | Petrified R | Violence - Blood - Gory OC Death | Happy Ending 😀

Smut: Somno (Consented)-Oral (R) | Tribbing | Overstimulation | Sweet/Soft | Mommy (N)

When Natasha exited the Quinjet she was in a state of disbelief to find Yelena stood there. It'd been a year since she'd been home, and it wasn't the compound she looked to, it was you. Not only was it strange that you were missing, but Yelena being there was truly worrisome.

The sisters loved each other endlessly, but they never wanted to seem vulnerable enough to the others by showing their concern outwardly. For you and Kate though, they'd always be there, and in turn the two of you'd always show too.

"Where's Y/N?" Natasha couldn't hide the fear in her voice, but her face remained neutral.

——

Yelena cringed at the mention of you, it didn't take a rocket science to know what happened.

The blonde wanted to help you the first time she saw you with a busted lip, and a bloodshot eye that wasn't simply from crying. Then you flashed her a nervous smile, and she knew that she would only make it worse. You were oddly attached to this asshole—she understood.

Not to say she didn't help in her own ways, she was fond of you, not the same way as her sister, but enough to want to protect you. There was a very specific reason Rio was sent on an influx of lengthy missions this year by his CO, Yelena, (and it wasn't the hopeful rank bumping).

As a former widow she knew that being under another's control is something you become conditioned to respect over time. Sometimes you're even to the point of defending your abuser, for her they doubled as her captors, she reasons it's the same for you in this case, but regardless the reaction all worked the same.

You wouldn't leave unless you felt safe, and you wouldn't feel that way until Natasha returned.

Which is why Yelena is here now. "Natasha, we need to talk yesterday, fuck the reports." The blonde knew the walls had eyes and ears so she pulled her confused sister off to her bike, then drove her fifty miles out to a quaint diner just far enough from the city that Natasha wouldn't sprint back to immediately avenge you.

It was the right thing to do, she didn't want you to see just how scary Natasha could be. The last thing you needed was to be startled into seeing any part of them inside of your Natasha.

"I'm going to kill them!" Yelena smirked over her stolen coffee mug as they'd moved to the dead fields just to the left of the rest top. The circumstances weren't amusing, but seeing that her sister shared her sentiments elated her.

"This is funny to you?" Natasha questioned, her fist shot out at the blonde with the quick reflexes, landing in her open hand. "Why didn't you help her Yelena? Sh-she was my..."

"Lyubov'," Yelena quietly finished for her, she dropped her fist and wrapped her arms around her trembling body. "I never got to tell her what it meant, she always asked, but just as I was about to tell her I had to go. I never..."

"No!" Yelena reprimanded her, "You are not to blame here Natalia. Neither am I. If I helped her alone it would have been worse. Doveryat'."

(Trust)

Natasha nodded, and for a few minutes they stood there, Yelena thinking over what weapon she will use on Rio, and Natasha mourning through sobs the loss of your perfect start.

Everything in both of your lives had been deeply rooted in pain, and now this would be too. Natasha dreamed of more, she wanted the silly first date where she fumbled over her words, that came with the reward of a kiss.

She wanted to enter into a relationship with that period where you dressed up for each other to go out on the town that slowly faded into lazy nights in wearing matching pajamas.

Natasha adored you wholly, and wanted to make every little thing as special as she could. Up until she left she had already been doing so, but still she feels like she failed you. Maybe if she had just staked her claim more outwardly then Rio would've never taken you as theirs.

They would have never been able to hurt you...

Deep down she knew all was not lost, and she could make it right with you. Natasha also knew Yelena was right, it wasn't her fault, but that didn't mean she didn't carry the burden.

All she ever wanted was to keep you safe, and this failed instance will forever haunt her.

"Go pay the bill, I need to make a call." Natasha handed over her card, and as Yelena walked away she dialed in a favor, "Afternoon Hill."

With an urgent need for reaching you the redhead had swiped her sister's keys, and drove them back with a practiced elegance in her every illegal swerve. Yelena grumbled about the likely wear and tear, but there was no genuine anger with her concern, and the redhead couldn't hear her over the racing of her nervous heart, or the harsh wind anyways.

Every second counted, she couldn't risk letting Rio do anything further to you, and she worried that her return might've sparked something in the devious agents voided chest.

"Meet me at the underground cells in an hour," she coldly said to her sister as she tossed her the keys to her bike before she sprinted off. The rooms were spinning when she ran through the compound doors, and it continued to do so until she finally managed to spot you.

You were sitting with your back to the entrance of the communal kitchen, your frame hunched over and your body was lightly shaking. It was clear as day to her that you were sobbing, even if you tried to muffle the sound with your hand.

Natasha wasted no time approaching you, and in her hurry she failed to announce herself. It broke her heart when you jumped away from her touch and skidded across the kitchen.

"I-I'm sorry, I promise I will never mention her again, but please don't —," you cut your shaky pleas off the moment you looked up to see it was a frowning Natasha and not a seething Rio.

Natasha saw the exhaustion in your cloudy eyes, and the rest was painted on your face. Your worry lines were more prominent from when she last saw you, and you looked small. You were once a strong, well built agent at the top of her game, with a ranking higher than her own, but now you looked like a weak prisoner.

There was a scabbed over gash of sorts on the apple of your right cheek, and scratches and bruises all over your upper arms that you tried to conceal with your sleeves but she saw them. The eyes of a spy were a curse just as much as they were a skill to the woman. Because seeing your skin marred broke down her resolve.

"D-don't cry Natty," you yourself said over a sniffle, she smiled sadly as she approached to give you the comfort you were trying to offer.

You whimpered as her strong arms wrapped around your tense shoulders, but your entire body couldn't help but to relax as you smelled the familiar floral scents of her cologne. It was like the world returned to normal for just a moment. All you needed was her touch and suddenly the tears were flowing unendingly.

"It's okay moya lyubov'," she coo'd, and you whimpered once more hearing the familiar words that always brought you comfort. You held onto her shirt beneath her leather jacket for dear life, and she gently swayed your form as you freely sobbed. "You're safe now."

Natasha grinned over your shoulder as her eyes met those of your sleazy partners. Rio's fists were clenched as they stood outside the room, their gaze held contempt as they scowled. They hadn't a chance to interrupt your moment as Maria stopped them in their tracks, and swept them away—if only they'd known of their fate...

"I am here," she whispered, "They are not."

It didn't matter that you knew what her words meant, the meaning was clear; Rio was gone, and you were nothing short of relieved.

Natasha watched as you removed the ring on your finger and dropped it onto the counter in a hurry as if touching the metal harmed you. It was self motivated, but it still left her hopeful to see you denounce them before her own eyes.

The redhead wordlessly pulled you out of the kitchen and you ignored the smell of Rio's musty cologne as Natasha took you straight to her bedroom, a place where you always found yourself sneaking off to when they were out.

While you sat on her bed silently pondering the fact that you were free from this last years terror she ran you a soothing bubble bath. It helped to ease the remaining tension in your body, the warmth of the lavender water helped to soothe the marks atop of your battered body.

Natasha did her best to respect your privacy, giving you her room as she stood outside of the door until you came to collect her. The redhead beamed as you cracked the door and beckoned her inside, seeing you wearing her clothes filled her with a sense of pride, it made her want to remember the way you looked in this moment.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" You smiled softly, and silently nodded towards the bed, she nodded her understanding and laid down with her arms wide open for you to crawl into like you'd always done in the before times.

"I missed you," you croaked, and she pressed her chapped lips against your temple, leaving a firm kiss against the skin and for a moment the persistent ache in your head from the earlier scuffle with your spouse seemed to fade away under the soft affection of your desired lover.

"I missed you too Y/N/N," she sighed, her arms gently tightened around you in emphasis. "Every day I found it harder and harder to stay away. I'm so sorry I was gone for so long, and.."

You shook your head and kissed the side of her neck as your lips were rested there. "Don't."

The redhead sighed, and relented on pushing you beyond your limits. Even if she felt sorry, she still should keep that to herself. It's unfair to ask of your forgiveness, when you were the one who had to endure the cruelty of another. All she was meant to do now was hold you close, and never let this ever happen again.

Once you'd slipped into a state of unconscious that had you snoring the redhead cautiously shimmied out from beneath you. She hated taking the comfort of her embrace away from you, but she had somewhere to be in ten. So with a final kiss to your cheek she left the room, securely locking her door as she did.

"Sestra, welcome to the party!!!" Yelena greeted her sister, "You are just in time."

Natasha took the brass knuckles from her sister's extended hand with a smirk, but before using them she decided to punch Rio square in the nose with nothing but her bare hand. A reminder to the crooked agent that she didn't need anything more to harm them efficiently.

Blood gushed from the asshole's nose and the sisters rejoiced when the pitiful excuse for an agent began to cry. "Seriously? Already crying? What a joke." Natasha snorted at her little sisters taunting, then she turned her malicious attention back to your sobbing ex. "Too bad you're not the funny kind. Just the pathetic."

Rio knew better than to plead for their life. Maria escorted them here and handcuffed them to a chair. Yelena menacingly stood watch over them before Natasha entered. It was clear to the criminal of the hour that their fate was sealed the moment they took your hand in theirs and abused your loving nature.

"Snyat' s nikh naruchniki," Natasha dryly said as she slid the brass knuckles over her fingers.

(Uncuff them)

Yelena obliged her sister, and with unnecessary but warranted strength she shoved them from the chair. "Wh-what's happening? Can I go?"

Natasha chuckled darkly, "Oh please, you are simply being granted a chance to try and throw one of your little punches at me. Show me the inexcusable power you used against her."

Rio smirked, then lunged at the redhead with a confidence they were sure to lose in seconds. Natasha cackled as they punched her nose just as she did theirs with literally no damage done.

"God damnit you're fucking weak!" She cackled as they stumbled back in shock, looking at their fist in confusion as if it betrayed them. "You're going to regret ever laying a hand on her!!"

A taunting smile adorned their face as they challenged Natasha with a tilt of their head. If they were going to die anyways, they decided it would be best to torment her back. "Not only did I smack her around, but I gave her my —."

Natasha socked them in the jaw, cutting their disgusting words off at the source. Only cries of pain left them as the bronze over her knuckles had effectively broken their jaw into sections. Blood mixed with their drool and dripped down their chin along with a chunk of their tongue, and that made Natasha smile wickedly.

Yelena watched with a glint in her eyes as her sister tossed the buff excuse for a human being around as if they were a weightless rag doll.

"Pozvol' mne povernut'!" Yelena eventually whined, and Natasha scoffed, "Imet' eto."

(Let me have a turn / Have at it)

While the blonde tormented Rio with her sharpened knife Natasha chose to discard her weapon and stared at the blood on her hands. Observing as it dripped onto the cold cement of the cell floor, staining it red; her ledger gushed. 

"Natalia!" Natasha shook her head free of the distraction of her dark, self destructive thoughts, and looked up to see a bloodied Rio on their knees, body swaying as they fought to keep their loose grip on consciousness. It was time to deliver the final metaphorical blow.

"Y/N's mine," Natasha growled while holding their disfigured jaw in her hands, her nails dug into their raw skin and they hardly winced as the life force left within them was dwindling. "She was never going to be yours, because she loved me, and she was far too good for you."

"Fut yuh," they spat incoherently, and Natasha grimaced as their blood spluttered onto her face. "I'd bless you, but we both know you're not going to make it to heaven," she teased, smile mocking as her hand lowered to wrap around their neck. Her stony glare of the black widow was the last thing the abuser saw before their lights officially went out. Yelena looked at her, and Natasha smiled weakly at her sister.

"Ready for cleanup," she muttered tiredly into the speaker of her phone, then left the room as fast as she could. The weight of the situation had finally gotten to her, the realization that she could have lost you to that weak fool had her crying the whole way back to her room.

She heard shuffling, so she stood with her head pressed against her door until her breathing regulated, and the tears had come to a stop. Only then did she enter her room, and headed straight for the bathroom to take a shower.

You were flat on your back now, your midriff exposed as the shirt you wore rose up and the plush blanket she left was kicked off the bed. Natasha admired you fondly as she walked out with her towel wrapped around her nude form.

When you finally awoke she was drying her hair in front of her body length mirror, she now wore a pair of biker shorts, and a sports bra. The sight of her flexed abs, and swell of her perfect breasts through the mirror made your mouth even dryer than the amazing sleep had.

The redhead turned around with a soft smirk on her lips, the teasing gesture was however overwhelmed by the distant look in her eyes. She watched guiltily as your eyes filled with recognition when you saw her purple hands.

"Natty?" The redhead sighed softly, "Don't." You nodded in understanding, and patted the bed besides you, and she stalled briefly as she walked into the closet to grab her shirt, as well as her favorite leather jacket for extra layers.

She didn't want to seem like a temptation, even if she only had to exist before your eyes to be.

You honestly couldn't restrain yourself, seeing the physical proof that she'd used her assassin skills to defend you turned you on. It was odd, the way that her violence didn't turn you off. It was perfectly understandable though, knowing that she loved you enough to chose to defend you was the most attractive characteristic.

You were down bad, and Natasha gulped as she saw the way your eyes bloomed with swirls of palpable lust. It took all of her not to pounce on the moment that presented itself to her, but she stood no real chance at abstaining here. In a matter of seconds you were straddling her lap and lifting her bruised knuckles to your lips.

"Y/N," she gasped, a subtle warning in the way her hand trembled in yours, but you cupped her cheeks and smiled warmly before saying: "I want to feel your love Nat, please show me."

Both of your hearts beat out of rhythm, but the jumbled thumps were however in sync. She surveyed your eyes for a brief moment, then she kissed you breathless as she lifted you both up off the mattress. Setting you down on shaky legs she smiled at the way your eyes took time fluttering back open. Her hands settled on the hem of your shirt, "May I?" You nodded, a bit emotional as she sought your permission out.

Natasha was incredibly gentle as she disrobed you, a muffled sob left you as you cherished the unfamiliarly soft touch. It had been such a long time since someone regarded your body this way. Every partner you'd been with since you moved into adulthood had been callous; rough around all your edges and cruel to your curves.

Your parents were just the same, the redhead had given you hope for a brighter future. Then she was gone, no longer present to keep that shadowed figure from exposing themselves.

Rio was never someone you regarded as a threat until the day when they introduced themselves, cocky grin on their face as they asked you out on the date you'd be at later.

It was never a question, it was a veiled prison sentence that you would fall into the trap of.

You were naive enough to believe it friendly, everyone knew you were unspoken for, but the whispers echoed that you were Natasha's girl.

Which you were wholeheartedly aligned with.

Rio disregarded the claim, showing you the empty finger that they shoved a ring onto a month into your assigned arrangement. It devastated you being with anyone that wasn't her, they never physically forced you down, but they used their venomous words to coerce you.

"Moya lyubov, are you sure?" You felt this wave of warmth tingle beneath your skin, and felt as her calloused thumb wiped away your tears. "We don't have to do this yet detka, or ever if-."

"Natasha no," you whimpered, nails dug into the nape of her neck as you feared being left sexually frustrated. You needed her more than you ever thought humanly possible, "Please."

Natasha's arm wrapped around your bare waist, she guided you back towards the bed and kissed your lips the entire time she spent cautiously lowering you onto the mattress. It was like she was in a trance as she took her time kissing away the pain of your scars.

It was her intention to make this moment one full of love, her lips gently kissed over the skin of your stomach and she felt the way your entire body tensed in anticipation. Yet she didn't take the bait, she instead continued to lick the salty sweat from every bit of exposed skin she could, and her kisses continued to drop all over, like into the crook of your knees and elbows, and the apex of your thighs.

You whimpered in need for nearly an hour, but she never heard you as she was determined to feel every last bit of your skin beneath her now numbed lips. Soft snores finally pulled her from her trance, she gazed up at you, her lips stalled on the skin beneath your belly button.

She grinned against your pelvis as she caught a whiff of your abundance, her eyes closed as she felt her mouth salivate in an instant. Her body shuffled until she could eye your cunt, it oozed like a waterfall and seeped into the grey sheets.

With the tip of her nose she nudged your lips apart, then slid up to bump at your clit as her tongue followed the trail with a firm lick. Natasha groaned against your sensitive nub as she truly tasted you for the first time. Her face was absolutely coated in arousal in seconds as she ate your pussy like it was her last meal.

If she goes down for her crimes today she would actually request you as her final meal.

Muffled whimpers left through the part in your lips instantaneously, your hips shifted, then all of a sudden your upper torso arched off the bed and you moaned yourself into consciousness.

You were enthusiastic as your hand wove into her hair and you loudly vocalized her praise: "O-oh my god, don't stop—fuck, never stop!"

Natasha purred against your pulsating clit, a clear indication that she shared your thoughts. Dangerously so honestly, because she made you release on her swirling tongue alone four mind blowing times before she took a break.

While you grappled hazily with the functions of time and space the woman merely watched you in amusement. You were adorable as you came down from your repetitive sequence of highs, yawning obviously and smiling contentedly.

Moments later you finally stared down at the woman whose body was pressed into yours. Natasha smiled up at you lazily, with her slick cheek smushed into your thigh, you returned the gesture and her heart skipped a million beats. You took her breath away every time she saw you, but this time was different, it was even better than she dreamed. She finally had you in every sense of the word, before she left you were already hers in totality, but it was never the right time to take that leap together.

Or at least you'd both thought that you needed the time to be right, but now you knew to stake your claims and to never let each other go.

The redhead needed to be closer to you, so she left the oh so comforting heat radiating from between your thighs behind and began to kiss up the center of your body, a snail trail left in her lips wake with each sloppy press of them to your sweaty skin. She relished in the way you'd shiver as the breeze from the window solidified your essence and had your heated skin chilled.

She smirked once her lips pressed into your cheek as you tugged at her clothes and whined.

"What is it moya lyubov'?" She chuckled, then prohibited your response as she pecked away your pout. Her tongue licked at your bottom lip and you allowed her the moment of distraction. Savoring the taste of you on her tongue as she kissed you breathless, your body pushed back into a needy state as your arousal soaked into her shirt, and she was reminded of your prior whining as you had just tried to undress her.

Natasha shook her leather jacket off of her arm, keeping her body raised on the other like it took no strength at all. She never once broke the kiss, managing to suck your soul from you, she even kept her balance as she threw it off. For her remaining clothes she had to pull away, but you didn't feel her absence for long as she moved rather speedily, almost like a cheetah.

"What does it mean?" You shakily asked as she lowered her cunt atop of yours, a carnal groan then left you, "Fuck, Natasha you are so wet."

She hummed teasingly as she began to rub her aroused cunt against yours, her plump lips hovered your ear as she whispered her secret words: "My love." You felt the warmth of her sigh tickle the skin of your collarbones, and it spurred on a flurry of goosebumps across your body and burrowed deep into your heart. "I'm only ever wet because of you Y/N, every time you'd kiss my cheek goodnight I'd be drooling."

"Oh god," you moaned as her lewd confession was huskily spoken just as her clit brushed over yours, the stimulating touch caused Natasha's arms to nearly give out as she was overrun with pleasure, but her impressive strength won out.

"You've always been mine Y/N," she murmured the truth you both vehemently aligned with as she kept up a breathtaking pace with her hips, it wasn't rushed though which was new to you.

The painstakingly raw jut of her hips left you feeling dizzy, her teeth grazed across the skin of your jaw before her lips latched onto the bob of your throat as your body arched into hers.

It was made worse when she pulled away from your neck and hovered you once more, her lovesick gaze locked on your hazy one, and you were surely a goner as the words as sweet as honey left her saccharine lips: "I promise to cherish your body for a lifetime if you'll let me," her pace sped up just as fast as your heartbeat had, and your eyes brimmed with tears of pure joy as you came in sync with your soulmate.

Whispers of yes and please left your lips in between the moans of her name, and the world stopped when you hoarsely cried out mommy.

Natasha collapsed into you, her arms giving out as her warm arousal gushed from her already dripping cunt onto your thighs as she came again from she's sure your words alone.

"You did such a good job for mommy," she pecked your cheek then pressed her lips to yours and satisfied your needs to kiss her luscious lips as you basked in the aftershocks of your highs in a bubble of undeniable passion.

"Get some rest now detka," Natasha rolled off of you and pulled your limp body into hers. "You're safe with me Y/N, I promise you this."

"I know Natty," you mumbled over a yawn while burrowing your face in between her soft, rounded breasts. The redhead smiled and happily admired your relaxed face, she wore a proud grin as you drifted off, trusting her to keep you safe with the same hands she'd used to wring the neck of your spouse this evening.

You knew deep down that Natasha didn't let them go like you’d thought when she said they were not here. Apparently she was foreshadowing their looming demise. You didn't question her for a meaning when it came to the bruises on her hands, you just accepted it because she loved you enough to bloody her ledger. Though they surely deserved it, she still had to consciously take a life, and even though they were wretched, she still felt the loss.

Good or bad, her heart still cared too deeply.

The world was a safer place, you'd pointlessly reminded yourself of her humanity, as if she would ever lay a harsh hand on you. She who hummed softly, and ran a gentle hand up and down your back even after you'd slipped off into a middle ground. Your mind was still aware but your body was slumped into hers, but you heard her whisper clear as day as her lips faintly kissed your hairline. "I love you Y/N Romanoff, I promise I'll put a ring on your finger soon, I just have to unpack the little box from my suitcase and threaten a judge is all."

You involuntarily giggled softly and her hands teasingly tickled at yours sides, "You sneaky minx," you could hear the smirk in her voice, and you knew then she'd known all along that you were still conscious on some plane. "So, tell me Y/N, will you be my runaway bride?"

"It depends," you yawned out exaggeratedly, "Where will we be running off to Natty-kins?"

"Wherever you want sweet girl, I can make a home anywhere in the world if you're there."

"So romantic," you giggled, your lips brushed over her racing pulse and you left a tender kiss there to try and calm her, but it only made it beat out of sync as it sped up then slowed back down. "Of course I will marry you, just as soon as I can get this crock of fibbery annulled."

"Fibbery?" Natasha chuckled and you whined a little too honestly, "Don't make fun of me, I'm tired, and have a lingering minor concussion."

The redheads breath stalled, her body tensed but you tiredly lifted your head and kissed her chin before you whispered, "It's okay, I'm safe now in my favorite persons arms. Like you said, nothing can hurt me if you're around."

"Damn straight," she said as her grip on you tightened, and you sighed. Natasha's hold was expectantly possessive, which briefly felt too familiar to another's, but the way Natasha kissed the skin beneath your hairline, and continued her prior humming soothed you.

This wasn't the start she dreamed of, but she also couldn't prevent the smile that adorned her sleepy face as you nuzzled even further into her embrace, your clear trust in her meant the world to her and even eased some of her guilt.

You both knew it would be a long while before you were truly yourself again, and you knew from experience that her patience would never waver, and that alone would be enough. One thing was rather clear as you slipped off to sleep—you were safe, and loved just as you'd always deserved to be in your home's arms.

——

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #yelena belova #gxg #marvel fanfiction

[beanghostprincess]

Silly vampire buggy being so very normal about it while the rest are absolutely FERAL is so funny.

Buggy, before Roger passed, still on the Oro: hmm, I'm kinda thirsty-

Shanks, ripping his already open shirt further off: Oh Dear, Oh My Look At ALL THIS So Very BITEABLE SKIN, Sure Hope There's No VAMPIRES Thirsting Near Me, Wink Wink!!!!

Buggy: I bet Gabban still has some juice boxes. I hope he has that guava one. I'll be right back!

Shanks, half naked and drooping: 🥺😟😥😫

<><><><><><><><><>

Mihawk: I read this interesting novel yesterday which gave me much to ponder.

Buggy: oh? Awesome! Which was it?

Mihawk, side-eying Buggy pointedly: it was a supernatural romance between a human and vampire. It was rather explicit and had many scenes which piqued my interest.

Buggy, absolutely Not Getting It: oh man. I usually hate those. It's a toss up between bad writing or the vampire is always a top. Like? Give me gay bottom vampires too, we deserve to be recognized!! Oh, Hawky, can you hand me my sunscreen?

Mihawk: ........... here.

Buggy: thanks, love!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Crocodile: hey you drink blood.

Buggy, sipping A+ out of a care bear cup: yeah?

Croc: does it work on Logia users? Or would your fangs need Haki to pierce us?

Buggy: hm. Good question? I dunno, actually!

Crocodile: seems this could be a learning experience. Would be a shame to not experiment. I know how much you like your science.

Buggy: I do like science. Yeah. Yeah. You're right! I SHOULD experiment on that!!

Croc, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging down his cravat: uh huh, well, I suppose we ought to get to it- where are you going

Buggy: to my workshop! Science waits for no man!!! Nor clown, in my case. Man clown? Vampire? Who knows. Wait. Am I a man...? Hm, what is the gender today... wait, have I eaten at all? I don't remember. Anyway, I need to grab my suit, I'm low on sunscreen again. Oh, remind me to add that to the next shipment request. Oh, I should also grab a bloody mary!! That sounds great! Okay. Bye bye!!

Croc, halfway undressed, watching Buggy run outside, start swearing bc he didn't pull up his hood and is cursing the light, before tripping flat onto his face: ............. shit.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy rarely pushes the limits of his abilities BECAUSE of the vampirism. If he uses his DF more than usual, it makes him hungrier. And once he hits a certain point, he begins to lose his already loosey-goosey sense of humanity. It scares him to be so cold and uninterested, especially since he always feels things turned up to eleven. When his hits that point, EVERYTHING turns off. At best, he'll be mildly annoyed, angry, amused - but it's like being in a glass bowl, watching things happen from the outside. It terrifies him.

His partners...? Well. It does things to them too, but terror isn't exactly the dominating feeling... 👀

((Also, the romanticism of blood. Of life energy. Of an exchange of that out of love. Of giving parts of yourself to sustain and satiate another. Carrying pieces of someone else in your body to propagate your own life. Of giving and taking consensually the liquid which carries your time. The inherent provocative nature of taking someone else's essence into yourself with full permission and full understanding because they receive so much from you in turn that it is simple, easy, logical to consent to this.))

Vampires 🥰

THE FIRST ONE IS SO REAL EFJKBWEJKBWJEKBF Shanks does that constantly he's DYING for Buggy to bite him and the clown won't even notice he's trying so much. It's ridiculous. Shanks and his failguy moment simping for a vampire that doesn't want his blood.

Mihawk and Crocodile trying to flirt and failing miserably because Buggy is always oblivious to what they do is amazing and no matter the AU it's always like this. I adore. They just want their vampire boyfriend to bite them :(( Failguys.

The last thing you said is so real. Vampires can be something so romantic and I think usually books/TV shows/Media in general don't focus on the important stuff. I want to see teen!Shuggy with Buggy and Shanks traveling together right after the crew disbands (before Roger's death) and Buggy not having access to other types of blood. So Shanks offers him his blood and they have like-- This moment of realization of how intimate it is. And Buggy will forever remember what it felt like to feel Shanks' embrace while sucking his blood without any complaints. And!! Both Mihawk and Crocodile wanting to do the same but it's definitely just for the horny, they don't expect it to be so passionate and intimate, and romantic.

Also, I agree with Buggy, the vampire should be the bottom. Really necessary for this situation.

#this is amazing thank you for this masterpiece #i genuinely laughed so loud with the first one #one piece #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #shuggy #bughawk #crocobug #cross guild

[inferno-0]

Choleric

────────────────────────────

Just the attitude of the Titans to your temperament.

Let me remind you: Choleric is active, impatient and hot-tempered extroverts.

────────────────────────────

Godzilla

* Being a serious and calm creature, Kaiju is not used to your persona. He was amazed at your courage in front of him.

* He liked your extroversion to some extent. Unlike him as a loner, you literally communicated with every creature in your path. But the best quality he has revealed is to be a Leader.

You literally managed to chase away the skullsaurs that interfered with him, of course, it was not without escape, but still.

A Brave Man.

* Wanted to chase you away, but you were too persistent.

*You are now his Watchdog.

* To be Choleric is to be aggressive to some degree. To be honest, it sometimes amuses him. If you were a Titan, you'd definitely start fighting him to the end. But I like to watch how some little guy tries to move the tip of his tail and shouts something very bad at him.

* Thankful for keeping the raging gulls away from his dorsal plates while he swims. Will wait for the moment when you banish the Monarch from his eyes.

Mothra/Mosura

* She likes your activity and perseverance. You're eager to learn anything and everything that Mothra is amused about. But your short temper . . .

* It's not that Mothra is annoyed, she's worried about you. After all, the argument gets out of control at some point.

Your impatience may be misplaced somewhere, and the Titan tries to calm you down so that there are no unnecessary problems.

* Your irritability frightens her.

Even though it's several thousand times bigger than you.

* Sometimes he presses you to his fur, hoping that you will calm down and stop driving anger to the whole world.

* Tries not to glow too much at the sight of you. Since there was a moment where you accidentally ordered her to turn off her flashlight out of annoyance, to which Mothra choked.

I think she'll give you a lecture.

* She also appreciates your leadership skills.

Rodan

* Someone, help him.

* I have never met such a person as you in my life. No, of course he is. Partially. But this Titan is compared to you, forgive me, Bug. Your audacity amused him. Until you started throwing rocks at his beak and eyes, to which the Titan was ready to go back to the volcano and anywhere else from you.

* His ego has been suppressed since that time. You're not afraid of him.

And now he thinks: Are you stupid or are you really driven by something?

* He was surprised when he found out that you wanted to be friends with him. Okay, instilling fear throughout the city wasn't good, he needed communication. Of course, your character is not great, but at some moments he is ready to laugh at you heartily. Especially when you are the one who gets into trouble.

* And now let's forget about aggression, let's remember about Leadership qualities:

"Wake Up, Silly Bird"

"Thank you so much for this morning, kind little creature," ─ grunts Rodan as he emerges from his warm nest.

* No, he sometimes likes your mindset to boss others around. Although, he has frequent flashbacks about it.

King Ghidorah

* Very brave. Very brave.

* Three heads could have hit you to certain death right away, but something caught on them. Your aggression was wonderful, of course it's a pity to hear it from a person.

* Throwing sticks and anything else you can get your hands on when he literally saved your life for five minutes.

Only these five minutes still last for some reason.

* Okay, it them off, but it's still funny. A brave little king. Ghidorah kept you as a pet, but only because you weren't a coward.

* Ichi is proud of your anger at other creatures. He likes the way you command them.

Ni has the same relationship to you as Ichi, but is only watching for fun.

San is a little disturbed by your behavior, believing you to resemble his brother Ichi.

*Sometimes they deliberately bring you into conflict (mostly Ni) to laugh at your face.

Although, in the absence of an instinct for self-preservation, you give them a savory response, to which the Titan begins to retreat.

* Humans and other Kaiju find both of you insufferable. Godzilla is even willing to ask people to take you away from there, as Ghidorah's yells from another argument can be heard even in his nest.

King kong

* You didn't look like Jia. Jia is calm and understanding, and you are like a tomboy, irritated about everything. He still thinks about how his little human friend made friends with you.

* Jia introduced you as a good person, but with a strong character that you just have to accept. Kong had expected anything but this. Although he appreciated the ability to command others. You'd be good at managing your own tribe, if you had one. But given the Skullsaurs that are on the run all over the island from you, humans would have joined them themselves. Your aggression was out of bounds.

* Kong sometimes worries about your recklessness. You're not someone who sits still like Jia. You're always going somewhere. And he doesn't understand what you need. And Jia, who is used to all this, just says to calm down.

* Kong has never been in conflict with you. He tries to stay on the edge of patience.

The truth is trying..

He likes that enthusiasm, but please stop. Otherwise, he'll put you in this flying object that people use.

────────────────────────────

#Godzilla #godzilla x kong the new empire #Godzilla x reader #King kong #King kong x reader #xreader #Mothra #Rodan #King Ghidorah #All Titans #Titans x reader #Kaiju #godzilla kotm #godzilla vs kong

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Hi!!! Huge fan and I hope you had a good day in your part of the world💗💗💗

I was just reading ur period comfort fic with jay and was absolutely inspired with this idea for an (unequivocally self-indulgent) new fic:

what if reader has intense pain on their period (like can’t stand, can barely move, everything hurts/aches etc.) and goes nonverbal when the pain gets too much BUTT reader and jay had an argument before he went on patrol and so reader feels like they can’t call him because he’s still mad at them so reader just sticks it out miserably by themselves. only until jay asks oracle to check on your vitals (because he’s a cute little worry wart and still cares a lot🥰) and sees that you’re heart rate and breath rates are wildly irregular and he rushes home (fuck batman he can finish the job himself HIS BABY IS #1) and sees you bundled up in the covers curled in a ball crying. comfort, apologies, and making up and caretaking ensues!!!

i’m so sorry if this makes no sense or it isn’t something you’re comfortable with (your comfort is #1 bestie)!!!! Also, feel free to modify in any way!!!

SENDING KISSES AND LOVE💅🏾❤️

It makes good sense!! I have no problem writing this ✨

I hope yours is going good as well! It’s a very under weather day for me, so I apologize if this isn’t what you were expecting! ❤️

—

Time written - 1:27 a.m

Tags: Period. Slightly broody Jason. Special guest star menstruation crustacean.

Part 1 in reference

—

Being miserable chased you around like a damn disease today, doing lots of more harm than good.

The kind of pain that left you breathless. An agony so severe you find yourself apologizing to any God that listened, mentally screaming at your body to give you a damn break. It was a miracle how you managed to make it from the kitchen towards your bed, forgetting to get your charging phone from the couch.

Sure, you had your watch. Yes, you had a device nestled in your end table drawer used for emergency calls. Wayne-Tech, Batman related stuff.

You didn’t use it. Either you didn’t have the strength, or too hot-headed, you didn’t reach for a button.

You believed it wasn’t going to be as bad. The cramps you’d get about a week prior before you start weren’t as painful this time. This morning had such high hopes, such high promises for a good day.

It was too early to think too highly about it.

Your body believed it would be funny to fool you, forcing you into this pathetic, crippling state shortly around ten. Rarely would you start at night.

You would’ve thought the blame belonged to someone else, anyone else other than what you experienced now. It felt like your insides were being torn apart by devilish hands, nearly making you ponder the urge to scratch against your own abdomen.

The room was normally cool, but your body was terribly hot. A peculiar shiver brushing down your spine, your susceptible body curled up in a pitiful ball along the mattress.

The house was quiet and empty, save for your choked gasps as you son through this horrible pain. You craved comfort, more comfort than any warm blanket could provide.

The biggest comfort you quietly desired more than ever wasn’t here. It was a miracle that the front door still clung to it’s screwed up hinges after being recklessly slammed shut.

You two argued over cereal, over which take out to get from what restaurant, over celebrity crushes. His side eyes were as dangerous as his criminal bloodlust, but they were always done out of amusing intent.

This time was different. You couldn’t remember when it started, recalling when it ended was now a painfully dulled blur in the back of your head. The argument was nearly verbally severe, with enough yelling to rouse the worry of your neighbors. If they even cared.

No one really does in Gotham these days.

You lay in your pitiful slump in bed for what felt like hours. In your distress, you weren’t aware of your charging phone going off in the living room. Your screen bombarded with texts and still ringing phone calls.

One of Jason’s few reliefs he had was through a distasteful crook on patrols, as violence was a great distraction. On such a slow start, Red Hood was left stalking with his own thoughts, dealing with his temper all alone in the night’s silence.

Just because he was stubborn now, doesn’t mean that he didn’t have his moments of clarity once he caught a break. He sent you a reluctant, one worded sent text at first before rushing on. He couldn’t help but shake off this suspenseful feeling though, like a tense dissatisfaction on his tongue. Was it guilt? Was it shame?

Did he feel sorry for what he basically caused? Did he at least wanna attempt to own up to it?

After ten minutes, he sent another text. Again, he sends another after seven minutes, then another around three. You weren’t answering them at all, which was a little surprising. You believed you held a distasteful quirk about answering texts too fast, which was what Jason adored about you, responding to him in under five minutes. Or ten at most if you were busy.

It always let him know you were never bored of him.

This only made that suspenseful ball in his gut grow a little heavier, so he started to call.

After about three calls, still you didn’t answer. Now that hall grew hotter and hotter.

It makes the most obvious sense that you were still angry at him, but the least you could’ve done was pick up the phone and cussed him out before abruptly hanging up. Or at the very least send his calls to voicemail after a ring or two, but that wasn’t the case,

The longer he stared at his rumbling phone screen, the worse his anxiety began to grow. Soon enough, he couldn’t take it anymore.

The Bats had an auspicious way of knowing if him or anyone else didn’t keep up their patrol routine. Jason put off this thought many times, giving less of a fuck now as he rushed home.

“Where the hell is your phone??” Came his booming question once he enters the bedroom, noticeably breathing a bit heavy from his rushed pace.

Upon your failure to answer in your trembling state, cowering under your blankets, you hear his heavy boots quickly approach the side of the bed. Opening your teary eyes, you see two milky mask sockets staring you down, still clutching his own phone in hand.

Jason would’ve questioned you over how many times he’s had to call, over how many texts he sent. He could’ve, but he didn’t.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice changed from roughly arrogant to gentle softness while pulling off his mask, relieving you of that annoying heavy breathing behind the barrier.

Because everything fucking hurts, asshole.

If you were still angry at him, it would’ve been a shouting match all over again. No, all that’s left now is physical and mental pain.

Without another word, he rummages through both your drawers looking for something. Cursing when he couldn’t find it, he turns towards the closet, reaching up ahead on the top shelves until he found what he was looking for.

He leaves the room, making your sensitive mind wonder if he had the gall to up and leave again. Especially knowing the debilitating state you were in.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The faint chime of the microwave echoed from the kitchen.

You wondered wrong.

Jason returns, pulling the blanket back just enough to expose your torso. Pulling up your shirt just enough, he proceeds to apply a warm, heavenly weighted plush stuffy along your tummy.

A chorus of euphoria washes of your tense body, your unknowingly clenched jaw finally relaxing. You whimper out in temporary relief at this beautiful sensation, the application of warmth promising a slow, eventual comfort that would easy your agonizing pain.

“When did you start?” He asks, but you don’t answer. More like you can’t, really.

“Can’t talk, huh?” His forehead slowly settles along your temple, exhaling through his nose. Pure blooded guilt mixed with cold hard sympathy in his system, making his heart beat heavily as he fully considers your pain.

“God, don’t pull an idiot move babe,” he murmurs against your cheek, his forehead settling along your head.

“That’s my job. You were right about that.”

You were stubborn, but not that hurtful towards the man you love. Unless he did something where it was really necessary.

Jason remained by your side until you were comfortable enough to sit up, never minding having to warm up the heating pad one more time. He doesn’t say much after his last words as he brings you a calorie rich snack and some pain medication, sitting idly by while opening a water bottle for you.

He gets you to a hot shower after the painkillers slowly prove they’re kicking in.

Fresh clothes were piled on the bathroom counter for you after the seething hot shower, consisting of one of his shirts and a pair of your old shorts you didn’t care much for.

Dinner, or an incredibly early breakfast, was one of your favorite cup noodles. Quick, hot and easy, so you could take a strong sleep medication and rest this horrible night away.

Jason by now was unbearably silent, too silent. Occasionally, he asked if you were okay or if the cup was too hot to hold while you slurped your noodles. Red Hood became a quiet, doting dog, keeping behind you as you shuffle to bed, still dressed in his gear.

It was only after you were settled back into bed in your much better state did Jason decide to finally relax, comfortable enough to take off his gear.

You were left watching as he turned around, pulling off his taunt, black shirt he wore under all that armor nearly every night. A faint hiss pushes through his nose as the fabric tugs on his freshly bandaged gash, just shy from his right shoulder blade.

“I didn’t mean it,” you exhale, tears dribbling over the bridge of your nose. “You’re not stupid, Jason. I didn’t mean it.”

He still keeps quiet, his head slightly turning as he acknowledges the pain you were still in. He doesn’t blame you for your anger, it just makes him feel more stupid for being mad at you.

He kept getting hurt, and you always took care of him. Sometimes, he kept getting hurt too much. You couldn’t help getting more and more worried for his safety while he chooses to shrug off the pain.

Now here he stood, with a wounded shoulder, wounded pride and a trembling girl needing his support now more than ever.

“Wouldn’t blame you if you did, sweetheart.” Jason sighs after crawling into bed beside you, making sure you remained ownership of all thick blankets.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers, peering down at you with sympathetic eyes. “I’ll try to be more careful.”

Your heart nearly melts then and there, a lingering stress vanishing from your mind for now. That’s all you asked for out of the entire argument from earlier. You knew his job was dangerous, but all you asked out of him was to be more cautious about his surroundings, to not be as reckless.

You could only help bandage and kiss his wounds so much. You never minded, but him coming home with at least three harsh gashes from possibly infectious blades put a toll on your hormonal stability.

“That’s all I wanted,” you gently say in return, accompanied with a soft sniffle.

Jason smiles before scooting just a little closer, proceeding to hold you with his good arm. A content cloud of warmth invaded your area, keeping you feeling calm and satisfied as your tired eyes mindlessly trail along his silvery autopsy scar.

“You can forgive me later,” He muffles against your cheek, lacing your skin with various gentle kisses. “Get some sleep, Hood’s gotcha now.”

You close your eyes, hiding the dramatic roll that proceeded shortly after.

“Also,” he piques in his murmur, a hint of cheekiness invading his tone of voice. “Kinda know of other ways to help with the pain.”

“Jason.” You groan with a light grimace.

He smirks a bit, only growing from the faint crinkle in your eyes and refrained smile. Just the reaction he wanted.

—

Had to throw this in 🦀

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #dc jason todd #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd dc #if your mans don’t get you one of these #tf you doin with him

[donteattheappleshook]

(not so) young, drunk and alone 1/1

“Swan, it’s me. ‘M so sorry I ‘avnent called for… September, October, Nov… three months. Shit that’s too many months. ‘M sorry but I need your help. The sherrffeff won’t let me leave. He says you have to pick me up - well not you but ‘ynow someone. I don’t know anyone else. Oh! It’s Killian by the way. Killian Jones. I don’t know how many Killians you know but I’m that one. The dickhead who ghosted you. ‘Nway, if you could call me back that would be just - awesome. Yur prolly not gonna call me back. I wouldn’t call me back. ‘Nway… yeah. It’s Killian. Thanks.” 

(We'll give this a light M)

Oh hey, it's me, neglecting all the WIPs for something new.

This fic is a little birthday present to myself. It's completely ferral and I had very little control over it but I listened to Dial Drunk on repeat for 3 days and then this happened. This fic is unbetaed but thank you @the-darkdragonfly for answering all my texts and rambling calls while I was writing it!

A Silver hook story because apparently everything I write is now...

Read it on Ao3 (where my italics work)

******

(not so) young, drunk and alone

She shouldn’t be allowed to look at him like that. Not with a smirk caught between her teeth in a way that makes his throat dry and his pulse race. Not with the barely restrained promise of a laugh he’s sure would come out in different company that makes his face burn and and his eyes unable to meet hers. He can’t look at her when she looks like that, and she’s looking at him like that, and he looks - he assumes not great. 

So he focuses on the floor instead. The floor is safe. The floor doesn’t stir up conflicting and confusing feelings he’s managed to ignore for the better part of a year. The floor doesn’t make him question every terrible decision he’s made in his life that led him to this exact moment. The floor is… moving. It’s not supposed to do that. Although that’s likely the booze, he rationalizes. But the floor isn’t interested in being rational so Killian lets his forehead fall against the bars he’s already holding onto in an attempt to stay upright. The bars are nice, they’re cool and solid and it slows the spinning in his head a fraction.

“Big night?”

He takes a full ten seconds, counted slowly, and a few deep breaths before raising his head again and facing that smirk. It doesn’t help. The absolute delight in her eyes delivers the same gut-punch it always does - even if it’s at his expense - and the soft blonde curls that have fallen from her probably hastily pulled up bun make him ache to reach out and brush them away from her face just so he can feel the strands between his fingers. 

He shouldn’t have called her. He knew it was a mistake when he did it. He should have just let the sheriff keep him in this bloody cell. It’s not as if he hadn’t slept it off a night or two in another cell in another town throughout his youth. But he’s not so youthful now and the sight of the cold, hard bench, the thought of his aching back and the copious amounts of rum still coursing through his blood had been enough to send him over the edge into madness apparently. So he’d pressed the blurry little “absolutely not” in his contacts and called the only person he knew in this whole bloody city.

“Swaann.” He attempts a smile but it turns into a wince as he manages to slur the single word. When he works up to meeting her eyes again - so green, like the sea glass he used to collect on the beach when he was a boy and that takes his breath away every time - there’s a bit of pity mixed in with the amusement. 

He feels pretty pitiful. Forty-five and so stumbling drunk that he’d been tossed out of the pub and into a police car, only to be forced to face the one person he’d hoped the rum would chase from his mind. He’s too old to be acting like this. Even with his wits sloshing around in the drink he’d tried to drown them with he knows he’s too old to be acting like this. When you’re young, it’s funny, an anecdote for another time - spending the night in the drunk tank. When you’re his age, it’s just pathetic. 

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.” Her voice is sweet, with a laugh still hiding somewhere behind it, and it’s the first sound since he was brought here that hasn’t made his head feel like it was being scratched at from the inside. 

“You shouldn’t’ve come here. S’the middle of the night,” he tells her. She doesn’t belong in this sad little room in this sad little jail with the lightbulb that keeps flickering in and out. Still, he can’t stop the stupid smile that finds residence on his face whenever she’s near - because she is here. She came to get him. 

Emma raises a brow in a way he thinks she may have picked up from him. “You called me three times.”

He blinks. Fuck. He doesn’t remember that. He looks at the sheriff waiting a little ways back who nods in confirmation, giving Killian his own pitying wince like he tried to stop him. Killian sighs. “‘Mm usually much more charming.” 

She rolls her eyes but smirks again as the sheriff slides a key into the ancient looking lock. “Yeah, I know. Come on, Graham’s going to let you off with a warning -” 

He nearly falls flat on his face when the door he’d been leaning against swings open. 

“You sure you’re gonna be okay with him, Em?” 

Oh great, they know each other. He’d be more annoyed at her cozy relationship with the unreasonably attractive sheriff if he wasn’t a little bit grateful to the man who caught him and is still holding him up now. If he can just get his legs to go back under him where they belong… 

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.” 

Killian feels himself being passed from the man who smells strikingly of the forest, to the woman with the irreplicable scent of honey and drugstore soap that overwhelms him with the memory of every time he’s had his mouth or his hand on her skin. The fingers of his one remaining hand burn with the urge to feel her under them again so he balls them into a fist as she drapes his arm over her shoulders. “What about you?” It takes him a moment to realize that he’s who the question is directed at. “You going to be okay to walk out of here?”

Sheer determination not to make an even greater fool of himself than he already has in front of Emma Swan is the only thing he can attribute to both not falling right over with the nod of his head, and the steadiness of his first step as she leads him out the door. 

He stumbles three times between the building and her car. She catches him every time with a hand on his chest, her head turning so that her hair brushes his cheek and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t do it on purpose after the first time - though he can’t really trust his own thoughts at this point since they have to be yelled at him through an ocean of rum. 

“It’s your bug!” he beams at the old, yellow car. “I love your bug.”

“You hate my bug.” 

Oh, right. He does hate the car that broke down every other time they drove to his hotel in the middle of the night, the one that had broken down the night they met. ‘I swear I’m not trying to stand you up. It’s just my car is literally on the side of the road right now and the tow won’t come for another hour at least and there’s… smoke.’ 

It had been an interesting night, getting an Uber in a strange city to go pick up a stranded woman from a dating app who'd been on her way to his hotel for anonymous sex - a woman he found out had lied about her age when she pointed out that the 1993 beetle was older than she was. ‘I didn’t think you’d swipe right if you knew there was a whole high school senior between us.’ ‘Anything else I should know about?’ he’d teased when they were back at his hotel room where she’d managed to get him out of his shirt with impressive speed. ‘Is Anna even your real name?’ ‘Uhhh, about that…’

She leans him up against the aggressive yellow of the door as she fishes in her pockets for her key. Her cheeks have gone red from the cold and it reminds him of the flush that would sometimes come over her skin if he found the right words or the right touch. 

“You’re so lovely.” His thumb is tracing over her cheek though he doesn’t remember raising his hand or reaching for her. 

She snorts. “Yeah, okay, Jones. So not gonna happen tonight, but nice try.” This time her smirk is wicked and if he had any real control over his body or his brain he would kiss it right off her smug mouth.

“I wasn’t trying to do anything!” he swears, prosthetic on his heart as she unlocks the passenger side door. “I’m just grateful you came all the way out here to rescue me. My knight in awful yellow armour.” He gasps. She rescued him from a dungeon. “Bloody hell, Swan -” He speaks slowly, managing to get almost every word out coherently. “I’m the princess.”

He’s waiting for her to come to the same mind-blowing realization as he has, but she just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Get in the car, your highness.” 

It takes an impressive amount of self-control for him to sit still and keep his hand to himself despite his racing heart and thoughts as she leans over to help him secure his seatbelt. Because he’s not supposed to have those thoughts. And his idiot heart can keep its cruel reminders to itself. He shouldn’t have called her. He hasn’t called her - not in months. Not since he realized his mistake and knew this thing between them had to come to an end. 

He’s missed her so bloody much. 

“Killian.” She’s beside him now in the driver’s seat and saying his name like it’s not the first time she’s asked him this question. “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, I…” Shit. He knows this. He’s got this. Think. There was a hotel. A big hotel with really good room service. Maybe they could go there and he could buy her room service. She always liked that. ‘Listen, I know I came over here for sex and that was great and everything, but there’s a freaking lobster grilled cheese on this menu so do you think I could be here for sex and room service tonight?’ She’d looked at him with that same wicked, eager smile and he was already reaching across her for the phone. ‘I feel like I should be concerned that you seem more turned on by this sandwich than you did by anything else tonight.’ ‘Well, it’ll probably take them a little while to deliver it if you want another go at out-seducing bread and cheese.’

“A hotel,” he tells her finally. 

“Yeah, I kind of figured. Which one?”

“Which what?”

“Which hotel, Killian? Which hotel am I driving you to?”

“Oh.” He knows this one! “Mine.” 

She sighs, forehead falling against the steering wheel for a long moment. He waits, not sure what he did wrong but positive that he did something. “Okay,” she says, sitting up and starting the car. “It’s late. You can sleep it off on my couch for tonight and I’ll drive you back in the morning when you’re less… wasted.” 

She sounds frustrated and he thinks it might be his fault. He looks at her carefully as she turns out of the parking lot, really looks at her for the first time since she walked back into his life a moment ago. Holding his breath against the eyes and hair and skin that always try to steal it away, he takes note of her messy hair, the lack of any makeup, the grey sweats he knows she likes to sleep in. He looks at the clock next, the late - or rather early - hour shining angry, bright and orange. He can figure this out. 

“I’m sorry.” He’s an idiot. She glances at him before turning back to the dark highway ahead of them.” “I shouldn’t have called you.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not.” He hangs his head, hoping he looks sincere and not just as pathetically pissed as he is. “I woke you up.” 

“Really, Killian, it’s fine. I was just going to bed.” He looks at the clock again and he envies her youth not for the first time since meeting her. He supposes he’s up this late as well, but that wasn’t by choice. That was the rum’s decision. The rum always makes bad decisions. 

“But it’s cold.” She must be cold. She’s always cold and he made her go outside. She hates outside. She probably hates him now. ‘Listen, I’m all for this whole hooking up when you’re in town no strings thing.’ She waved a hand in his general direction. ‘Big fan of everything you’ve got going on here. But it’s cold as balls outside, so from now on you can come to mine and I can stay inside where it’s warm, or I’ll see you in the spring.’ 

The smirking curl of her mouth tugs at her cheek but he doesn’t reach for it again. “Yeah, it’s November.” 

November. The last time he saw her it had been the dead of summer, both of them hot and sticky and barely dressed, stretched out in front of the single standing fan by the bed in her little apartment with no bloody air conditioning. 

He misses that apartment. Misses being there with her and letting her make him boxed mac and cheese while he complained about her eating habits. Misses the ridiculous sheets with little Millennium Falcons on them that she’d found when he was running late to meet her that one time. He’d made her wash them before putting them on her bed - ‘fine, mom’ - and then listened to her make Star Wars puns from between her thighs until they tightened so hard against his ears he couldn’t hear anything at all. 

And he misses the way she would smile at him when she opened the door, just before she dragged him inside, asking about his flight between heated kisses and frustrated hands. ‘I hate your stupid ties’. 

He’s a bloody idiot and he should have never stopped calling. Or he should have stopped calling a long time ago, before there was anything to miss. They had a good thing going, an understanding, no strings. He’d reach out when he was in town for work and they would meet for one or however many nights he was staying. No expectations or dates or sleepovers, none of the complicated stuff. And he’d screwed it up.

His feet slip dangerously against the icy ground - at least he’s pretty sure there’s ice, or the ground isn’t staying still again - as Emma practically hoists him out of the car. “You remember the stairs right?” she asks, ducking under his arm again to steady him. She fits well there with her arm wrapped around his waist. 

He hadn’t remembered the stairs. Though he should have, he’d complained about them enough times. ‘What’s so wrong with an apartment with an elevator?’ ‘Aw, can your old knees not handle it?’ He’d caught her as she bolted up the last few flights at his glare, laughing the whole way, and he’d spent enough time on his ‘old knees’ to make her take it back. This time, he’s not so sure he can handle it as he looks up at the rotating stairs that seem unable to settle on a height. 

“It’s either that or you’re sleeping in the lobby, Jones.” 

He considers it. “Is that David guy still your landlord?” The one who was particularly hostile to the man in his forties coming over at random hours of the night to visit his twenty-eight year old tenant. ‘Give him a break, he still thinks I’m the sixteen year old kid he illegally rented to when I first moved here.’ 

In fairness, Killian would probably judge himself too if he were in the landlord's shoes. He has judged himself many times for becoming a stereotype of Dicaprio-sized proportions. But the alternative would have been resisting Emma Swan, something he’s incapable of doing - or at least had been until that morning he ruined everything. 

“Okay.” The stairs are still moving.

“Hold on.” She takes out her phones - there’s definitely two of them - and holds them in front of his face. “I just want to get you on camera saying that I’m not liable if you fall down these stairs and break your neck.” 

“Is that really necessary?” He got that whole sentence out in one try. 

“I know you have a lawyer.” ‘You have a what? Wow, I knew you were older but I didn’t know you were like, old old.’ ‘I don’t think it counts if you’ve stolen from parent’s liquor cabinet.’ 

“Fine. Don’t sue Emma if I die. She’s very nice and doesn’t have any money anyway.” 

“Thank you.” 

“It’ll never hold up in court.” 

“That would be way more convincing if you could pronounce all your consonants.” 

The climb takes twice as long as it should and he’s forced to stop once when he makes the mistake of looking down and his stomach rolls violently. ‘I swear to god if you puke in my hallway I’ll leave you here to sleep in it.’

“I don’t remember there being this many floors.”

“It’s four floors. You’ve done two.” 

He might die.

He doesn’t die, but just barely, and when Emma leads him through the door and into the studio, she practically drops him onto the old couch. It’s not her fault; he’d made himself very droppable in the last few minutes. At least he landed on the couch and not the collection of wooden crates she’s glued together next to it. ‘That’s not a coffee table, Swan.’ ‘Oh, I’m sorry, is that or is that not your coffee cup on it right now?’

He doesn’t see her for a few minutes, his head too heavy to lift, but he can hear her moving around the apartment and he can picture her, walking through the kitchen on her toes. ‘It’s not weird, shut up.’ ‘I just thought you’d like to know that most people use their whole foot.’ 

When she finally comes back, he forces his eyes open, unsure who exactly glued them shut or how they did it without him noticing. Fuck she’s beautiful. Even through the boozy marinade he’s made of his head he can see that, and he wants to tell her. He could. He could blame it on the rum. But that would be a bad idea. Complicating things between them would be a bad idea. They’d already gotten complicated enough. God, he’s such a fuck up. Things were good, they could have stayed good. He just had to go and ruin a good thing with his stupid, greedy heart. 

“Here.” Two little pills and a frighteningly large bottle of water are set down in front of him. He’s not sure what the pills are but he’s also pretty sure she wouldn’t try to poison him even if he is an asshole who called her in the middle of the night after ghosting her for months. Pretty sure. The water sounds like a good idea. 

“Have you eaten anything or did you have rum for dinner?” 

“There were peanuts at the bar,” he tells her after guzzling down enough water to drown himself with. She shakes her head and walks out of his line of sight again. This time she comes back with a bag of crisps and he thinks maybe she doesn’t hate him as much as he thought because they’re the kind he likes most. 

“Eat that, drink that, and take those,” she orders, pointing to each with a stern look. “And then lie down on your side so I know you won’t choke to death in the night, and get some sleep.” 

“Yes ‘mam,” he salutes.

“Don’t get cute with me.” He wasn’t trying to be cute. But it makes him unreasonably happy that she thinks he is. She rolls her eyes at his probably once again dumb smile and repeats, “eat,” before disappearing where he can’t see her again. 

When she comes back this time her hair is down, falling over the shoulders of her oversized Jonas Brothers t-shirt she’s apparently had since she was twelve, and he wants to whine or cry at how desperately he wishes he could reach for her and what an idiot he is for being the reason he can’t. She’s carrying an empty garbage can, a blanket draped over one arm. 

“Do not puke on my rug. It’s the only new thing in this whole apartment and I love it more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.” 

Killian leans over from where he’s stretched out on the couch that’s too small for him, running his fingers over the blue and white pattern and nods. “It’s lovely, very soft.” 

She’s silent for long enough that he looks up again, only to find her with her lips pressed so hard together against a laugh that he can see her chest lurch with the force of containing it. He frowns, looking from her to the rug and back again before realizing that he’s been stroking the rug with his prosthetic hand. 

“Emma… I might be drunker than I thought.” 

The laugh that bursts out of her is loud and horrible and obnoxious and it’s the best sound he’s heard in a long time. He’s missed that sound, the one that had shocked him so completely the first time he heard it that they’d both ended up on the floor, stomachs hurting and eyes tearing, neither able to remember what had set her off in the first place and unable to stop giggling like teenagers. 

“Aw, babe,” Emma crouches down in front of him with a pitying look before beginning to work the straps of his false hand loose. Her hand settles soft against his cheek once it’s free, smirk still lingering on the corner of her lips. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been as drunk as you are right now.” 

Her face is so close to his that his heart forgets how it’s meant to work, stopping and racing of its own accord. He wishes she would close the distance, that he could feel her mouth against his for the first time in months, or that she’d simply stay here with him for the rest of the night because the distance and the silence between them has been more than he can take. He doesn't know how he ever convinced himself that staying away would eventually make the ache for her fade. 

She smiles at him again, giving his cheek an affectionate pat before draping the blanket over him, the soft one he knows had been her prized possession before the rug. “Get some sleep, Killian. I don’t think anyone’s ever been as hungover as you’re going to be tomorrow either.” 

He’s not sure whether or not the way his fingers close around hers before she can pull away was his idea or the rum’s, but she’s looking at him, waiting for him to say something and he doesn’t know what he was going to say or what he was thinking. He just knows that he missed her and he screwed it up - and then he screwed it up again, possibly beyond repair the second time. 

Being in this city that he managed to avoid for months in the hopes that he could forget about her has been one of the worst decisions he’s ever made. To think he really believed that he could live here, that he could take the job that was offered and not be haunted by her every waking moment, not dread and hope to see her around every corner. 

Being naive enough to think he could ignore the draw of her is how he ended up in that bar tonight. He’d tried to figure out how many shots of rum it would take to make him forget that he loves Emma Swan, but it seems there isn’t enough rum in the world for that - or at least not enough in that bar. 

She’s still looking at him and he wishes she wasn’t watching him with a hesitation and a carefulness that hadn’t been there before. It had always been so easy between them; he’d never felt less self-conscious with another person in his life and now it’s all consuming. She’s lost the carefree warmth he used to see in her eyes, like he took it with him when he left that morning and didn’t come back. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment in her sigh. “I already told you, it’s fine.”

He shakes his head. “Not for calling you tonight. For not calling you. Every other night. I’ve been an ass and I’ve been a coward. You didn’t deserve that.” By the grace of whatever gods might be listening to his poor apology, he doesn’t slur a single word.

Her pause is long enough that he worries he said the wrong thing, and he can’t read her expression through the haze of booze and exhaustion swimming around in his head. He should let go of her hand, but he’s painfully aware that this could be the last time he gets to touch her and she’s not pulling away. 

She sighs again. “Why don’t we talk about this when you’re feeling better?” 

He lets go. “Aye, Swan, whatever you want.” 

She walks away. Beyond repair then. 

***

“Swan, it’s me. ‘M so sorry I ‘avnent called for… September, October, Nov… three months. Shit that’s too many months. ‘M sorry but I need your help. The sherrffeff won’t let me leave. He says you have to pick me up - well not you but ‘ynow someone. I don’t know anyone else.”

Killian jumps, heart pounding. He feels like he’s woken from a coma, body so heavy with sleep that parts of it aren't responding to him and never having been more confused than he is in these first few moments. It’s daytime, but it’s not morning, the light is too dim, and he’s asleep but not in his bed or in his hotel room, on a couch he recognizes but can’t really place. He has a vague recollection of things that may or may not have happened while he lay here; the sound of someone moving around the room, someone saying his name, a door shutting, an angry car somewhere far off and the bark of a dog somewhere close, the sound of keys and the strange sensation someone poking him in the face - hard. 

All of it feels like a fever dream now as he looks towards the tinny sound of the belligerent man’s voice coming from the phone in her hand.Oh no. Oh god what the hell had he done last night? He recognizes the room, the soft blanket he’s under, the long legs clad in grey sweatpants perched on the table in front of him. He doesn’t think he can bring himself to look at her.

“Oh! It’s Killian by the way. Killian Jones. I don’t know how many Killians you know but I’m that one. The dickhead who ghosted you. ‘Nway, if you could call me back that would be just - awesome. Yur prolly not gonna call me back. I wouldn’t call me back. ‘Nway… yeah. It’s Killian. Thanks.” 

If you’d like to save this message, press - there's a loud beep before another message begins to play. Bloody hell. He remembers the pub, and the cop - sort of - and he remembers that little line on his phone screen. ‘Absolutely not’. From the looks of it, he absolutely did. 

“Heey, isme again. I don’t think I told you where I am. Is’not great, Swan. They put me in the jail.”

He winces, sitting up carefully, head still light and disoriented. “Did I…”

“Mhm.” 

Another wince. “Are they all-”

“Oh yeah.”

“‘M not even that drunk. The sherfs just got a commpelex or something.”

“Swan, we really don’t have to -”

“Shh, this is my favourite part.” 

Killian hangs his head. “I - Oy, I’m on the phone, sherirff! Don’ they teach you manners at cop school? The cops in your city are rude, Swan. Hey! No - iss my phone. I can call whoever I want.” There’s a shuffling sound that stirs up a faint memory of trying to back deeper into the cell, then a small shout and he remembers why his ass hurts and that he’s probably got a bruise on his hip the size of the one on his ego. Emma has her lip caught between her teeth again, flashing him the same look she had when she arrived at the station. 

“Hello? Swan? Oh, right. Yur prolly asleep. You should be asleep, that’s good. I jus’ called ‘cus I…” For a blissful minute he thinks he might have had the sense to hang up, the silence on the other end dragging on and he almost breathes a sigh of relief. But then the message rings out again. “I can't remember why I called you. I think somethin’ made me think of you.” His voice gets softer and so does her expression for just a moment. 

“That happens a lot. I been thinking ‘bout you a lot, all the time, really. And not just in a sexy way and not just yer face.” Killian hangs his head. “Even though I’m a fan of your face. And all your other parts too.” 

He wishes he could just perish right here and now, wishes the dull ache in his head would become an aneurysm and take him out without a fuss. 

“I been thinking about those ridic’lus tiktoks you used to send me and when I was in meetings ‘n I jus’ wanted to be with you. I don’t know anything about Taylor Swift anymore, Swan - I don’t know how to find those myself.” There’s another pause but he knows better than to hope this is over, much of this coming back to him now in mortifying waves. 

“I’ve too many shirts in my closet now - It’s so many shirts. I always brought extra ‘cause I knew you’d steal ‘em an’ then you’d walk ‘round your kitchen in ‘em with no pants like yur a sexy Winnie the Pooh or somethn’ and I had to watch you climb yur counters while I had a heartattack  ‘cuz you wouldn’ jus’ let me get things off the top shelf for you. Bloody stubborn.” There’s a sigh over the machine. “I don’t want this many shirts, Swan…

‘Anyway I - What? Who does? Sorry, Swan the sherf is being rude again. He wants to know if yur picking me up. Are you picking me up?” There’s so much hope in his past self’s voice that he almost feels bad for him. But he also knows what a bloody idiot that man is and it’s hard to feel anything but the overwhelming urge to disappear into this couch and not have to listen to any more of his drunken rambling. “That would be nice. But it’s okay if you don’t want to. I’d understand. Gnight, love.”

To delete this message press - She hits a button. Message saved.

Killian braces himself for the next one. Gods, how many of them are there? But this time it’s not his voice that comes out over the speakerphone, it’s another man, Irish and vaguely familiar through the sleep and the unfortunately returning memories. 

“Hey, Emma, it’s Graham.” Killian’s heart drops into his stomach at the sound of another man calling her in the middle of the night. Of course she wouldn’t have sat around pining like he did, not for a man who treated her as carelessly as he had. Of course - “Listen, I don’t know who this guy is but he says he knows you. I thought maybe he was one of your clients but when I asked him how he knows you he just asked me if I’ve ever been in love...”

The brow Emma raises at him is equal parts question, challenge and amusement and he feels the blood rush from his face. Fuck. He wonders whether four floors would be high enough for him to end this misery if he just went out the window. 

“Anyway, just let me know if this is another Walsh situation and I’ll make sure he stays in here, alright? Goodnight, love.” Killian can’t even begrudge the man or the endearment he adds to the end of his message when he’s only looking out for her. Probably a good thing she has someone to keep old, drunk dickheads away from her. 

He hears another beep of her mailbox and braces himself for whatever’s coming next. “Hi, love, ‘m sorry for calling so much. I know I made too many ms’takes to be ‘loud to say this, but… I miss you, Swan… And I’d jus’ really like to see you again.”

End of messages. To - 

Emma shuts the phone off, setting it down next to her on the coffee table. She tilts her head to see his face which he’s currently trying to bury in his hands. “Sounds like you had quite the night.” 

“I thought I’d be more hungover.” His head hurts and he’s tired and his mouth is dry but he expected to be near death after the way he threw them back last night.

“It’s four in the afternoon.” Oh. He does the math of how long she’d let him sleep in her apartment after everything he’s done - after she picked him up. 

“At one point I had to make sure you were alive. But I figured if you were able to leave such eloquent voicemails last night that you probably weren’t in danger of alcohol poisoning.”

“Swan, I…” He’s fully aware that he deserves her mocking but he’s too humiliated to even begin to try and explain his behaviour last night. How can he without explaining everything right down to that morning in July where he messed up the best thing in his life.

She takes pity on him, giving a small shrug. “Forget about it. Everyone says stupid stuff when they’re hammered. Everyone calls people they know they shouldn’t.”

“No, Emma -” He finally lifts his head to look at her. “That wasn’t…” He needs her to know that wasn’t what this was, she wasn’t just some drunk dial in the middle of the night. He thinks of how many times in the last three three months he’s looked at that contact in his phone, her name replaced with a reminder that he should not and absolutely could not go there. She mistakes his hesitation. 

“You okay?”

“No.” He needs to talk to her, to apologize and beg her forgiveness. But he can’t find the words in his tired, muddled head to tell her without telling her everything. “I’m a bloody idiot.” 

Emma smirks. “Yeah, we established that last night - a bunch of times.” 

“I mean it. It wasn’t -” He rubs at his eyes, trying to clear the sleep and avoid looking at her. “I didn’t just call you because I was drunk. I’ve wanted to call you. For months. Last night just gave me an excuse.”

“You needed an excuse to call me?” 

He sighs. “I was coward enough to convince myself I did.” 

When he finally forces himself to face her, he finds her watching her phone, fingers wrung in her lap and lips pressed together tightly the way they always are before she asks something that’s answer matters to her. 

“How much of last night do you actually remember?” 

“Most of it, I think.” It’s been coming back to him in increasingly horrifying details since she played that first voicemail.

“You said a lot of stupid stuff.” 

“I know.” 

“How much of all of that was true?”

“All of it.”

She raises a brow. “All of it?”

“Aye.”

“Sexy Winnie the Pooh?”

A smirk tugs at his mouth. “I stand by what I said.”

He wonders which parts of what he said she’s focusing on as her silence stretches between them, heartbroken when he sees a little wall go up. This is why he stopped calling. He knew this would happen. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like you owed me anything. We weren’t -”

“Don’t do that.” His hand reaches out for her, fingers playing carefully with the fabric of her too-big sweatpants. “We may not have been in a relationship but we weren’t nothing.” He won’t let her excuse his behaviour, not after they spent over a year in each others’ lives only for him to disappear from hers. “I shouldn’t have acted like we were.” 

“So then why did you stop calling?” It’s the most vulnerable he’s ever heard her sound even though she hides it well and he can’t bring himself to look at her. “I liked what we had going. I liked spending time with you.”

“Aye, so did I.” Too much. 

“I guess I thought - I guess I thought we were friends at least.” 

“We were.” His fingers dance along her calf through the fabric he can’t stop fiddling with and he feels the muscle tense but she doesn’t pull away from him. 

“So then what gives?” The anger in her voice makes his gaze snap up to hers. Finally. He’s been waiting for her to be angry with him, she deserves to be angry and he deserves it too. It gives him that small flicker of hope he’d been unable to find until now, a hope that if she’s angry, it’s because she cared enough to be hurt. “Why did you just…” She gestures vaguely with her hands. Disappear. 

“Because I couldn’t do it anymore.” 

“Do what? Hook up? Jesus, Killian, I’m a big girl. You didn’t have to run away because you were over the benefits part of this friendship.” 

“I wasn’t. I left because I broke our rules.” 

“What rules?” 

The ones they’d so carefully established when they decided to continue this arrangement beyond the first and second time he saw her. The ones that were meant to keep either of them from getting hurt like they both were now. 

“The last time I was here, we fell asleep and woke up in the morning still in your bed and I…”

“That’s why you freaked out? Because you accidentally slept over? That’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” He can hear the disbelief in her voice and also the relief but he’s not done. “It wasn’t like a hard and fast rule -”

His fingers curl around the back of her knee, squeezing as he draws her attention. “That’s not why.” He traces his thumb over the fabric covering her shin and he knows he has to tell her because he can’t do this anymore without telling her and he can’t go back to how things were. 

And he thinks that just maybe, she’ll want to hear it. Because as small and insignificant as it may seem, those aren’t her sweatpants, they’re his, lent - stolen - after a rather frantic afternoon in his hotel room six months ago where he may have torn her skirt in his haste to get it off. ‘You need better quality clothes, love.’ ‘Is this you finally offering to be my sugar daddy?’ They have his bloody initials on them - a strange gift from his lawyer friend. And she hasn’t gotten rid of them, didn’t toss them away when he did the same to her. She still sleeps in them. 

“I freaked out because I liked waking up with you, and I started thinking that I’d like to wake up with you every morning.” He’d been hot and sweaty and sore from sleeping on her old mattress but he’d looked down at the woman wrapped around him despite the stifling heat, her cheek pressed to his chest and her hair in his mouth and he knew that he wanted this, wanted her, maybe forever. He hears her small intake of breath, his thumb still stroking her skin though the fabric as though it’ll give him the strength he needs. “And I hadn’t felt that way about anyone since…” He can’t finish and so she does for him. 

“Milah?” 

“Aye.” His reason for never wanting anything more, love lost in the same instant that cost him a piece of himself. He’d told Emma about her, one night when they’d lingered a little too long entangled in the aftermath. He didn’t know the details of her reason, only that she’d been far too young and that he’d hurt her deeply enough to make her wary of anyone who claimed love or devotion. 

“I hoped that if I stayed away for a little while that it would fade away and that we could go back to how things were because I knew that if I told you I would lose you. But the longer I stayed away, the more I missed you and the more I wanted you and I realized it wasn’t going to go away - because I loved you.” 

Killian watches her for a reaction as he tells her the truth he’d been hiding from her for months and from himself for far longer, but she remains unreadable, fingers still wringing nervously in her lap, breathing a little shaky. But there’s no abject terror in her gaze as she waits for him to finish.

“And by then I’d avoided you for too long and it was too late to tell you or try to go back to how things were and I lost you anyway. Then I managed to convince myself that it was for the best because this wasn’t what you wanted and you deserved better anyway.” Better than an old widower with a used up heart who’d run the moment things became real. “But I thought you had the right to know that I didn’t leave because I didn’t care about you. I left because I cared too much.” 

Fabric slips from his hand as she stands, circling the coffee table and leaving him feeling untethered without her and with a barrier set between them. He focuses on the rug, her reaction expected but no less painful, as she paces the length of her glued together crates a few times. 

“Okay two things.” Her tone snaps his gaze up to where she moves anxiously and restlessly in the small space. “First of all, that’s the last time you make a decision for me.” He hadn’t expected this reaction. “I don’t need anyone to decide what I do or don’t deserve or what I can or can’t handle. If you want to know what I want, you ask me. You talk to me like the grownup you keep pretending that you are.” That one hurts but he nods. It’s all rightly earned. 

“You’re right.” 

“Good.” She stops, shoulders squared as she faces him from across the table. “Second.” He waits, the anger from before no longer sustaining her as he sees the wall she hides behind slip just a little. “You said you loved me.”

He’s not sure what answer she wants, but he gives her the truth. “I love you, Swan.” Try as hard as he did not to, he knows it’s not going away. And he’s not willing to attempt another eight shots of rum a second time to make sure. 

She nods. He waits, or she waits, he’s not sure who’s supposed to speak here only that he needs to know how she feels and he’ll wait as long as he needs to. 

“Well? Are you going to ask me what I want?”

“What do you want?” He’d give her whatever she asked for at this point as he watches her bite her lip and definitely doesn’t wish he was the one biting it.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Fair enough. 

“Look, I get running away from feelings - I’m very familiar with the concept. But the way you did it was really shitty and -” Her voice goes quiet, arms wrapping around herself in a move so full of self-preservation that it breaks his heart a little. “It hurt, okay?”

Her words, thick with betrayal and rejection, pierce sharp through his chest, painful and deserved as she avoids his gaze as determinantly as he’d avoided hers. God, he’s an ass. He’d pieced together enough about her past from the small glimpses she’d given him late on those nights where they were still tangled naked in her sheets and the dark lent them the boldness to be vulnerable to know that she’d been left before. 

He joins her on her side of the table, reaching to touch the soft, golden waves that he’s spent months wishing he could tangle his fingers in again. “I’m sorry.” He pushes them behind her ear, thumb stroking over her cheek like her skin could break beneath his touch. 

When she looks up at him her eyes are red and wet he pulls her to him without thinking. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, Emma feeling fragile in his arms for the first time since he met her. She’s a force, his Swan, a tempest that could devour a thousand ships and it hurts to see her storms wane. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter, pressing a kiss to her temple as he brings a hand to stroke the hair at the base of her neck, feels her lean into him. “I’m sorry,” he speaks against her brow. “I’m so sorry, love.” His lips brush over the crown of her head and he feels her arms slip around his waist, holding tight to the back of his shirt. He holds her just as tightly, nose settling in the crook of her neck where he presses another kiss and whispers a thousand more apologies. “I’m an ass.” 

“Yeah, you are.” Her voice comes muffled from where her face is pressed against his collarbone and he laughs in relief to hear her tease him. He pulls back enough that she can lift her head to face him, eyes still red as he wipes at the dampness left on her cheeks. All he wants is to kiss her and spend the night and the next day and every day after that making this up to her, but he knows better than to push her.

Her hands slide from his back to his chest as she meets his gaze and takes a steadying breath. “I still don’t know what I want. You’re not the only one who’s bad at dealing with feelings and you just put some pretty big ones out there.”

“I know.” He doesn’t expect to hear the words back, not after three months of silence. But if she gives him the chance to stay and try to win her heart then he’ll spend forever earning back her trust. 

“But maybe, if you’re still in town for a bit, you could stay for dinner.” 

It takes everything he has to contain the ecstatic smile that wells up from his chest, afraid he’ll scare her off. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.” He’s not leaving her again. Not unless she sends him away. 

***

“When do you go back?” she asks when they’re sat at the kitchen island. ‘What, exactly, do you have against real furniture? Especially tables. They seem particularly discriminated against.’ ‘Do you see any room in here for a twelve-piece dining set?’ He swallows the bite of the boxed mac and cheese she’d made him cook ‘Because I’m still pissed at you and I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer through this.’ ‘Sadist. Can I at least add -’ ‘No.’  

Killian looks at his watch. “My flight was an hour ago.”

“What? You should have said -”

“And miss all the delicacies that Maine has to offer?” he asks, lifting his mismatched bowl. “It’s fine, Swan,” he adds when she looks genuinely concerned. “I’d rather be here.” He can get another flight at the last minute before he’s due back in New York on Monday. Getting his things back from the hotel, however, may be a tad more difficult. 

“That’s sweet and all but I think you’d also rather be employed.”

“Aye, well, I may not be employed there much longer anyhow.” 

Her eyes widen. “Oh god, don’t tell me you left them voicemails too.”

Killian snorts. “No, I’ve just… had another offer.” 

His heart pounds frantically as she asks, “where?” terrified that he’ll scare her off. 

“Here.” 

“Here?”

He nods. “I wasn’t going to take it, not after realizing how much I’d miss you if I was here. But, well, that was before I drank a full bar. And this town does have its benefits.” 

She gapes at him and he can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes. “You’re not moving for me, right? You want the job? Because I told you I don’t know what I want or if I can even do… whatever this maybe is and I -” 

He reaches for her hand, calming the rambling that had started. “I do want the job, but of course I’m moving for you, Swan. And I know you’re not ready to decide anything, and I’m not asking you to. But whether you do or don’t decide that what you want is me, I’m going to be right here while you figure it out. I’m not going to leave you twice, Emma. I don’t want to miss you like that again.”

Emma just stares at him, mouth opening and then shutting with questions that don’t find voice and he sits, stewing in the worry that he said too much, asked for too much. He swallows as she jumps out of her seat, his turn to ramble now as she rounds the island.

“I mean, I will have to go home and get my things and resign but I -” 

“Shut up,” she tells him, hands sliding into his hair and mouth colliding with his. 

He’s more than happy to do exactly that, wasting no time in gathering her up in his arms and pulling her close, returning the kiss he’d missed so damn much all these months, missed the feel of her soft and warm against him like this, for the little sound she makes when his own hand tangles in her hair just hard enough that he can keep he there a little longer.  

“Wait,” he breathes and her hands pause where they’d been working the buttons of his shirt free. “Maybe we should slow down.” There’s a part of him screaming at his stupid mouth right now for the words falling out of it. “You said you don’t know if this is what you want. So maybe we shouldn’t rush things.”

She barks out a small laugh. “You’re moving to another city for a ‘maybe’ and you don’t want to rush things?” He doesn’t really have an answer for that. 

Her brow and mouth quirk up in one devastatingly attractive motion that has him ready to go back on everything he just said. “This was never our problem,” she reminds him, fingers tugging the buckle of his belt loose. “We’re good at this part. Everything else is where we get messy.” She works the button of his jeans open next. “So just try not to make any more big confessions while you’re inside me…” She runs her teeth over the skin below his ear as she slides her hand into his jeans and he nearly chokes. “And we should be fine.” 

“Bloody hell.” His rational self may judge him later, but his current self has Emma Swan with her hand around his cock trying to get him out of his clothes and he’s already established that he’s not a very smart man. “I promise.” 

***

It’s a strange feeling to be laying here, wrapped up in an old duvet and Star Wars sheets with Emma’s head on his shoulder and her fingers drawing patterns over his chest. They’ve never done this part, never lingered beyond the time it took them both to catch their breaths before untangling themselves from one another and going about their day - or tangling themselves again. He likes it, but it’s strange, new, something he hasn’t done in a long time. Not with anyone. 

“This is kind of weird right?” she asks, breath warm against his neck. 

Killian laughs. Bloody mind reader. 

“Aye, a bit. I think I’m out of practice.”

“I never practised in the first place.” 

He presses a kiss to her hair. “But, it’s not bad, right?” She can probably hear his stupid heart racing as he waits for her answer. 

“No,” she shakes her head, sliding her arm around his waist and fitting herself more snugly against his side. “It’s not bad.” He can feel her smile against his skin, glad she can’t see the absolutely ridiculous one stretched across his own. They lay there a little longer, the room darkening with the earlier and earlier nights as he begins to dread the fast approaching hour where he’ll have to leave, until Emma shifts. “My neck hurts.” 

“My arm’s asleep.” 

She sits up and his arm is flooded with the sudden relief of no longer being squished, but he misses the warmth and the closeness of her immediately. He has two arms. Who really needs both? He’s done fine with one hand. “Where are you going?” he asks when she rises from the bed, reaching for his shirt that she tossed on the floor and he made himself leave there. ‘Do not fold your clothes while we’re in the middle of having sex or I swear I’ll put mine back on you fucking weirdo.’

“Thirsty,” she says as she finishes buttoning it. “You?”

“Aye, thanks.”

“Water? Or would you prefer rum?”

“Hilarious.” His stomach rolls, not finding her so funny. She certainly seems to think she is, smirking as she fetches two water bottles from the fridge. “You know you’re going to have to give me my shirt back this time. It’s the only one I’ve got.” At least until he finds out if the hotel hung onto his suitcase when he missed his checkout. “Unless you have the others squirrelled away here somewhere.” 

“I thought you had ‘too many shirts, Swan,’” she reminds him in a poor imitation of his accent and he rolls his eyes. She hops back onto the bed, climbing into his lap to sit astride his hips. His hand and wrist settle on her waist, the shirt in question riding up and making him groan at the feel of her pressed against him. 

“Aye well I’ve only got the one to wear out of here tonight and while you look infinitely better in it than I do -” 

“Like a sexy Winnie the Pooh, would you say?”

He sighs. “I’m never living that one down am I?”

“You want to show me your hundred acre wood?” Killian lets his head fall back against the headboard as she laughs herself silly. “I have another solution,” she tells him, hands wringing nervously in the sleeves of his shirt. “I was thinking, maybe, since you’ve already missed your flight, and you probably don’t have a hotel room anymore, that you could stay here tonight. And maybe we could give that whole waking up together thing a shot.” 

Her cheeks are flushed, freckles bright against the soft pink as she looks up from her hands to catch his eye. He kisses her hard enough that she’d have fallen right off his lap were it not for his arms holding her steady and close to him. 

“That a yes?” she asks, mouth curling against his and he catches that smirking bottom lip between his teeth like he’s wanted to since she showed up at the station. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

She nods and it’s him smiling against her mouth now. “For tonight at least. But I think there’s still a lot of grovelling in your future before it becomes a regular thing.”

He kisses her again, rolls her onto her back beneath him. “Then I’d better get started right away,” he says, lips finding the length of her neck as he begins to work free the buttons of his stolen shirt. 

“Well, you did promise you would write poetry about my boobs.” 

“I what?” He looks up only to see her wearing the same confused frown as himself before her eyes widen with laughter and she covers her mouth with her hands.

“Oh my god. You haven’t seen your texts have you?”

Fuck. 

*******

Tagging the usual people but let me know if you want to be removed or added!

@kmomof4​​ @elizabeethan​​ @the-darkdragonfly​  @undercaffinatednightmare​ @jennjenn615​ @dramioneswan​ @gingerchangeling​ @gingerpolyglot​ @kazoo5480​ @lfh1226-linda​ @csalltheway​ @xsajx​ @xarandomdreamx​ @onceratheart18​ @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook​ @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway​ @zaharadessert​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @justanother-unluckysoul​ @spartanguard​ @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche​ @jrob64​ @klynn-stormz​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @sailtoafarawayland​ @tiganasummertree​ @winterbaby89​ @hollyethecurious​ @stahlop​ @superchocovian @snowbellewells​ @xellewoods​ @sals86​ @karlyfr13s​  @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru​ @lonelyspectator12​   @anmylica​   @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust​ @marcella2727 @paradiselady19​​ @koryandr​ @killiansprincss​ @goforlaunchcee​​ @motherkatereloyshipper

#captain swan #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #cs angst #but also just a lot of funny drunk Killian #killian jones #captain hook #emma swan #this thing is ferral guys #I don't even know what this is but I hope you like it #silver hook #silver killian

[perryavenue]

rainjoy Has A New Post. It's Personal

rainjoy is one of my favorite Klaine fanfic authors. Their first Klaine fanfic was published on LiveJournal in 2011, their last in 2021. Health issues have become more intense over time. Their most famous works, All The Other Ghosts and Grey, were published in 2012 and 2013. So those who've joined the fandom fairly recently may not even know about their other fics, the most recent one being from 2021. rainjoy has written Klaine in every genre: high school!Klaine, college!Klaine, married!Klaine, supernatural!Klaine, fantasy!Klaine, and even superhero!Klaine.

Here is a link to rainjoy's works on Live Journal

Here's a link for Dreamwidth

I hope that you'll help boost it by re-blogging. Thanks in advance, @klaineccfanficlibrary and @todaydreambelieversfic

This is rainjoy's post from today (October 27, 2023).

"Hello, I’m still alive.

Hello, I do mean it, hello anybody around to see this, I really hope you’ve been well, I’m sorry I haven’t been around, I *haven’t* been well. But I have, over a course of fucking months, actually written something, so I���m writing *this* here so I don’t need to leave a novel-length author’s note on it, as some kind of explanation of where I’ve been.

Largely, I’ve been in bed, I’m likely going there again after posting this, they need to invent new words for how tired I am so much of the time, my upgraded wheelchair is worth about as much as my *laptop*, my life revolves around Can I? Probably not. and lots and lots and lots of ‘resting’. I’ve not been well, but please don’t worry, I’ve not been unhappy. This is the golden age of being ill, the sheer quantity of stuff out there to amuse the bedbound – I have books and podcasts, all of Netflix, I practically live on Sky: Children of the Light, when I’m too dopey even for that I have Animal Crossing, when I am genuinely such a puddle of not-human lethargy that all I need is for time to pass until I feel just slightly better again I have videos of other people playing video games on YouTube and I’m sorry my darling baby moths I will pick you up and help you every single time but it will never not be funny watching someone go through Eden for the first time on YouTube, it just never will not make me laugh, oh my gods I’m so *sorry* my loves <3

So anyway, there’s all that, that’s where I’ve been, life really does not work out the way you planned it to, huh? Because outside of my bed, I know I have messages and emails and someone got a tattoo?? You got a tattoo and I’m just really sorry I haven’t been in touch, my energy has to be paid out like a miser, if I want to wash my hair then wow the world is really not getting anything else out of me, you know? But I am still here, and I do still love the things I love. I still think all of it is worth it. I think the world is a *lot* of fun, though I bear in mind that still, and always, we live through very frightening and distressing times. Which actually makes me think we need to cling to the things we love *more*, not less, love makes better people of us, when we let it.

So I did watch the new season of Good Omens when it came out, and safe to say I was not impressed, but it did jog in me the memory that didn’t I write a sequel to it? Yes I did, and it involved *all* that blood. But I reread it – it’s like reading a stranger’s writing after so long – and that jogged the memory: Didn’t you start a sequel to *this*?

Yes I did! Two thirds written, actually, hurrah for my past self. The last third took, I don’t know, when did the new season come out, it took that long. I used to sneeze out this sort of thing. This, now, is getting at my arms, it’ll be another lie down soon. But anyway, the point of all this: I live yet. In the next few days I *hope* I will be formatting and posting a sequel to But Thou Readst Black because of course everyone wants *that* back in their heads again, my gods. And I hope hope hope you’ve been well, I do think of people while I’m stuck doing nothing but pooling my brain out of my ears on YouTube. Look after yourselves, take care of each other, my gods you tattooed yourself I mean more power to you but it alarms me when things I make turn out to be *permanent*, you know? It feels like I barely touch the world anymore, my circumference has become so small, but it makes the world seem only more precious. Take good care of it, and of yourself as part of it. And very, very much love, to anyone remaining to see this, much love <3"

#rainjoy #klaine fanfic #rainjoys writing

[let-them-read-fics]

You Again?

Pairing: Jiu x Fem!Reader

AU: Non-Idol

Warnings / Misc. -- Some Angst, Smut, Fluff, Happy Ending :)

Word Count: 9,955

Summary: Y/N and Jiu have history. Unresolved tension, unanswered questions, lingering desire: the inconvenient kind. But when they both unwittingly agree to attend a mutual friend's vacation trip, they're forced to confront their feelings head on and learn to live with one another again.

Why, exactly?

Because they just so happen to be rooming together.

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hi everyone! I apologize for my absence, but I hope you enjoy this piece :) I have more stories coming, so stay tuned! 💖 Make sure to eat something good today and drink plenty of water.

💖 Happy Reading 🌹

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚

This has got to be a day for the record books. One of the worst, most unfair in all of human history. 

Well, let’s be realistic: one of the worst in your life. Maybe “human history” is a bit of a stretch – though you can’t exactly blame yourself for giving into the dramatics at a time like this.

The sound of your best friend sighing in frustration brings you out of your annoyed daze, pulling your attention back to her. 

“Y/N, you’re acting like a child. It’s only for one night.”

“Exactly, Y/BFFs/N; one night is far too long for the two of us to be around each other.”

She scoffs, but you don't budge. There's no way you're accepting this without a fight. 

"Why don't we have somebody else switch?" You suggest. 

She shakes her head, dismissing you. "Most of the girls already went up," she explains, motioning behind herself to the cabin. Sure enough, you can see shadows moving within the rooms – forms hidden behind pulled curtains, almost taunting as they shift around in the visible lamplight.

“And I’ve already told Jiu about it.”

You roll your eyes.

"Plus we all sorted this out beforehand." She shrugs. "Since you both joined at the last minute, it only makes sense to put you together."

Now it's your turn to sigh. Suddenly, an idea pops into your head. 

"How about I sleep in the car?" You brighten at the thought of your own scheme; quite literally anything would be better than being trapped between four walls with Jiu. 

"Ha ha, very funny," Y/BFFs/N mocks, clearly not amused. "You can't stay out here. You'll either freeze to death or waste all of our gas trying not to, and I don't think you really wanna do that." 

A disappointed tut leaves you; your warm breath turns to a puff of white air before dissipating into the night. 

Alright, maybe it's colder than you thought. Maybe.

"I'll talk to the others tomorrow morning and see what I can do, okay?" She offers, bringing a hand up to rub the back of her neck. She looks tired, and a pang of guilt washes over you when you notice it.

"Okay. I'm sorry." Regret shines in your eyes, but it's quickly eased by the growing, sleepy smile on her face. 

"Don't worry about it," she reassures you, looping an arm with yours. The two of you fall in step together, heading back to the cabin. 

"I know it's difficult, after everything. But it's just a few hours. I'm sure you can survive that, no?" 

You shake your head, though you're grinning. 

"We'll have to see. I'm sure she'll make it hard." 

Y/BFFs/N slides her free hand along the polished oak handle of the porch's glass door, opening it for the two of you. 

"Just be civil and it'll all be fine. You don't even have to talk." 

The resulting glare you send her makes her laugh. 

Tonight will definitely be the death of you. 

–

Across the first floor, tucked away in the kitchen, Jiu is hard at work. She stands in a pair of shorts and an oversized sweatshirt, cleaning the grill she helped prepare dinner on earlier. A few strands of her hair have evaded the grasp of her ponytail holder, coming down to frame her face as she scrubs away. 

“Why don’t you just save that for the morning?” Someone unseen inquires, sounding half asleep. 

She turns around to find one of your friend’s other invites moseying over to the center island, bottle of water in hand. Her face is scrunched up some, and the small bags under her eyes immediately remind Jiu of who she is.

It’s Sua, the person who pre-gamed too early and overexerted herself when the group first arrived at the cabin earlier this morning. She’s been nursing a headache for the past few hours as a result. 

The low groan that she lets out as she hauls herself onto the high-top chair makes Jiu giggle, but she stifles it to the best of her ability. The younger girl has managed to brighten everybody’s moods all day long despite feeling how she does; she's truly a gift. 

“I want to get it done so I can rest easy,” Jiu finally answers. 

Sua rolls her eyes. “Sleep now, clean later. This is a vacation for a reason, you know? We deserve to procrastinate.” She raises her bottle to her lips, taking a long drink. 

“You do that, I’ll clean,” Jiu resolves, nodding to herself. 

“Suit yourself, pabo.” 

Sua folds her arms on the countertop and lays her head down, yawning as she nuzzles her cheek against the soft material of her sweater. Jiu glances at her and smiles, amused. She appreciates her nonchalance likely more than anyone else on this trip; it’s distracted her from her worries.  

Namely, you: her biggest inconvenience. 

When news reached her of Y/BFFs/N’s plans for a week-long getaway, she was intrigued. Work had been a hassle, she was stressed, and all in all she just needed a break. So, she pulled some strings, got her shifts covered, and took the time off.

All was well for the first few hours, when everyone was at Y/BFFs/N’s house, readying up to make the long drive to the forest resort; but then you made a surprise appearance there, busting in and looking just as good as you did the last time Jiu saw you. 

Effectively, it ruined her mood.

You’d glanced at her, then, when you first walked through the door. She was the one closest to you, having been on her way to get a refill of the drink she had in hand. Truthfully, it felt like slow motion; for a second, it was like the two of you were back to where you had been all that time ago. 

When you were still together.

You crossed the threshold with an eager smile, luggage bags weighing heavy in your hands before you allowed them to slip off your fingertips and land on the ground with a soft noise of impact. She met your eye for a fleeting moment, and she unconsciously took a small step toward you. Her lips began to pull back in the soft grin that you always told her you loved, mimicking the happy expression on your face. For that foolish second, she was transfixed. Foolish.

It was as if you were looking through her; you hadn’t actually perceived her at all, really. She was a passing face as you searched for Y/BFFs/N’s, only caring to register hers. 

Just before Jiu could utter a word or reach you, a loud cheer rang out from behind her. The entirety of the group had picked up on your arrival, word spreading fast throughout the living room once one of them caught a glimpse of you. 

She cursed quietly and retreated a few steps, allowing the excited crowd to gather around you and visit. 

You happily shared the story of how your boss – who’s always regarded you with a distant indifference – finally showed her humanity and adjusted the schedules so that you could have some time off. Not the entire week, of course, but a few days to go and be with your friends. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to see you; even the ones who barely knew you, having only heard of your existence through the stories that Y/BFFs/N had told them. It all made Jiu feel like the odd one out.

But she could remember a time when just hearing your name made her heart flutter, too, so she couldn’t exactly fault them. 

From a distance, she watched you. How you moved. How your hands danced around as you explained your stories. The way your lips pouted and pursed with every syllable, almost taunting her. 

She thought she had gotten over you months ago, after things ended. She thought she was stronger than this; but clearly, moving on would be impossible with you around. That was to be done separate, no more strings attached. The idea of having to look at you, to hear your laugh, to be near you in such a way and pretend like everything was fine seemed unfathomable. With every trace of you gone, maybe, maybe then she could move on. 

Anything less destroyed even the chance of closure for her. But, she supposed, closure would just have to wait a week or so. 

—

25 Minutes Later

Put lightly, Jiu is avoiding you. 

After washing the grill and dishes, she took her time with leading a groggy Sua back to her room and making sure she got settled fine. She made some small talk with some of the other girls in passing, but nothing as serious as she was looking for.

She’d be happy to debate the meaning of life right now if it kept the two of you apart for a little longer.

But with lights out rapidly approaching and everyone dragging themselves to their respective rooms, she knows the chances of that are nearing zero. So, begrudgingly, she makes her way up to the suite. 

With every step she takes, she wonders what you’re doing in there. Are you already asleep? Reading? Watching television? Maybe you’re scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Maybe you’re not even in there at all. 

The questions pile up in her mind until she eventually gets fed up and decides to be unaffected for once. Or, at least, to appear that way. She shouldn’t care regardless, and she reminds herself of that fact. All the two of you have to do is make it through the night, and then something can be arranged so that you can stay far, far away from one another. Not so hard, right?

Wrong. Certifiably, absolutely, unequivocally wrong. 

When Jiu opens the bedroom door, she finds you fresh out of the shower. A lacy bra adorns your upper half, while a towel is wrapped around your waist; you’re bent over your suitcase in search of some shorts to wear.

She looks away quickly, but it’s too little too late; even as she shuts the door and turns around, pressing her forehead to the wooden surface, she can picture your body. 

She mentally curses the water droplets that run their paths down your chest and abdomen, free as they edge closer and closer to where the towel meets your waist. They touch you in a way that she never can again, and she hates that.

More specifically, she hates the fact that she wants to.

Your eyes land on her as you stand up, shorts in hand. A heavy feeling of embarrassment settles over you. 

“Uh, sorry,” you mumble, not knowing what to do. 

She turns back around to face you after a moment, but she refuses to meet your gaze. If she does, her resolve will surely falter and crumble.

“There should still be plenty of hot water left if you’d like to take a shower,” you offer, extending an olive branch of sorts. From the angle you have of her face, you can see relief spread across it. 

She wastes no time in sending you a quick thank you and slipping off to the safety of the bathroom, leaving you to question what the hell just happened.

Most of the time, she’s engaging and bold; her liveliness is one of the things that made you fall in love with her. Even at the end of your relationship, when things were falling apart, it was never like this; she never refused to look at you as many times as she had today, or been so weary anytime you entered a room. She never used to despise you so much, and as that sinks in you realize just how much it hurts.

Despite everything, you hate how unbothered she is. 

While you’ve watched her from afar all day, agonizing over the curl of her lip when someone said something witty or the sound of her easy banter with the other girls, she’s clearly been fine. Paying you no mind doesn’t seem to be a challenge for her anymore, and you dislike that more than you thought you would. 

Truth be told, you hadn’t prepared yourself for that. With the scope of your relationship and the lack of closure you received, it only made sense for you to assume she’d miss you as much as you miss her. To be just as affected now, by it all, as you have been. 

But that’s clearly not the case. 

—

Once she’s alone, Jiu takes the opportunity to steady herself. Her hands find their way to the cool marble countertop of the sink, and she draws in a deep breath. 

She can’t stand you. 

Now, from just that small interaction, all she can think about is you. The subdued lighting of the room only brought out your features more, leaving shadows to fall across the parts of you that were untouched by it. Your muscles pulled and strained as you sifted through your bag, parting clothes left and right in search of your shorts. She could see your face, too, looking just as kissable as always. 

She really can’t stand you. 

Defeatedly, she turns the water on. The cold streams down, unaccompanied by any real heat whatsoever; this will be a freezing shower, she’s decided. She doesn’t trust what she might do otherwise, alone in here with her thoughts of you and steam clouding her judgement. 

The subtle throb between her legs is enough to warn her; she knows she’ll do something stupid if she doesn’t stop herself now, before it has the chance to start. 

When she strips out of her clothes, she does her best to think of anything other than the way you used to undress her. How you sat on your knees before her, slowly inching her pants down as your warm lips left kisses in their wake. How you’d take your time with her panties afterward, holding eye contact with her and stopping your motions anytime she looked away. 

Even now, goosebumps rise to her skin at the memory. It was torture then, but for entirely different reasons. 

She was promised sweet release then, no matter how much you may have edged or tested her. Now she'd consider herself lucky to even be rewarded with a conversation. 

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she steps into the tub. The frigid water makes contact with her back, and she has to sink her teeth into her lower lip to keep from shouting. But if this is what it takes to keep you out of her mind, then so be it. 

–

The muscles of your neck and shoulders ache as you sit at the mahogany desk on the far side of the room, half-heartedly working on the report your boss asked you to start. It was what you had to give in order to take the time off, which is only reasonable. Even still, you're having a hard time staying focused. 

The desk faces one of the large bay windows of the room, overlooking the forest and mountains that surround you. Darkness completely envelops the land, save for the occasional house light far off in the distance. Moonbeams hit the treetops, coating them in a sparkle that contrasts with the midnight sky. 

Nearby, an electric fireplace crackles, reminding you of its presence. It's situated as the centerpiece of the lounge area of the suite, providing the room with some additional warmth and light from its place beneath the television. Faux flames waver within it, vibrant as they mingle with one another. Some burn brightly while others glow dimly; the wild versus the tamed.

Despite everything, maybe this trip will do you some good. Escaping the hustle and bustle of your life back home is always a plus, and being in nature never fails to ground you again. Some circumstances might be unsatisfactory, sure, but you're determined to not let that stop you from enjoying this time away. You deserve it, after all.

Just as you find the inspiration to start your reporting again, another one of your distractions makes herself known. 

From the bathroom, a pleasant humming fades in; it's Jiu, reciting the chorus to one of her favorite songs. She breaks into vocals occasionally, switching between the two. 

No matter how much you wish you could, you can't deny that it sounds perfect, coupled with the atmosphere that surrounds you. Given its range and ease, her voice has always been a comfort; getting sick of it is simply impossible. That fact annoys you, but at the same time you give up trying to fight it; you know there's no use.

It takes you back in more ways than you know how to handle, but you don’t complain. For now, you’ll bottle up this feeling and store it away for later, when you part ways and return to the chaos of your own lives. 

Maybe then you could open such a Pandora’s Box.

-

A few minutes later, she finally emerges from the bathroom; you attempt to ignore the urge to perk up. It's difficult, no doubt, after being left to your own devices for so long. Knowing she's so close and yet so unattainable doesn't help either. 

You don't turn around, just in case she isn't fully clothed.

It isn't anything you haven't seen before, but you're afraid you don't have that kind of permission anymore. The last thing you want to do is overstep.

Jiu wishes you'd look at her.

One thing she misses the most about you is your attention. You always paid it so freely – so willingly – rarely taking it off of her. It was ready for her anytime she wanted it, mainly because she had you so enraptured. 

Just the same as you’d always watched her, she watched you. She lived for the way your eyes lit up whenever she smiled or laughed, shining beautifully in a way they never did otherwise. She ached over how they darkened when she'd strip, parting her legs for you and putting herself on display. 

She was the art and you were the beholder. The only one she ever wanted to share herself with.

But now is a totally different time. You don't even so much as glance in her direction when she comes out, with her towel draped precariously around her body in a way that she was sure would drive you crazy.

It’s disheartening, but it doesn't make her want you any less. As she opens her bag and retrieves her clothes, slipping them on, she keeps an eye on you through the standing mirror in the corner of the room. 

Your legs spread as you readjust in the chair, making an attempt to rid your muscles of the tension within them. They're tight with the culmination of all the stress you've felt lately. 

When you allow your head to loll back, rolling from one side to the other, Jiu has to stop her wandering hands. The angle of the mirror allows her to see the way your brows knit together, pain and pleasure intermingling. She doesn't know how much longer she can stand this. 

One of your hands finds its way to your shoulder, rubbing a knot there, and Jiu gets an idea. Is it wise? Not in the slightest. But is she going to give in and go with it? Absolutely. 

What was it that Sua said earlier? This is a vacation for a reason. She can escape sound judgement and reason for now. Surely they'll return in full once you're out of the equation again, anyway.

She deserves to be a little reckless for once.

"Y/N," she calls, getting your attention. You wordlessly turn to look at her.

A bottle of lotion rests in her hands; she nervously toys with it.

"You can use some of this for your shoulders, if you want. It works pretty well." 

You consider her offer. "Thanks, but I'm alright," you declare, turning her down. "I can't reach what really hurts anyway." 

A beat passes before her eyebrows gently raise. "I can help you," she says, trying to keep the eager tone of her voice at bay. 

You pull a face. "Are you sure? You don't have to do that."

I want to, she thinks to herself.

"It's not a problem." She shakes her head, cementing her decision. "Just come here and lay down." 

You stand and relent with a soft noise of acceptance, almost imperceptibly. She takes notice of the way your eyes track down her body before dropping to the floor, lingering just a second too long for innocence. 

She dismisses the thought at once, not wanting to give herself hope.

When you cross in front of her and pause, though, slipping your shirt over your head with a subtle glance at her, it’s all she can do to restrain herself. The fading sunburn that you received earlier in the day, stretching across your nose and cheeks, looks like a natural blush from this close. 

She wants to kiss it.

“Thank you in advance,” you say over your shoulder, carefully laying down on your stomach. The fluffy comforter welcomes you in full, partially distracting and preventing you from overthinking what you’re about to experience.

She takes a steadying breath and releases it, glancing up at the ceiling like she’s pleading with a higher power. 

"Don't mention it," she dismisses, getting on the bed after you. 

In her mind, she debates the best way to go about this. Where should she sit? Overstepping the unspoken boundaries you've established isn't something she wants to do. 

Her fingertips play with the hook of your bra, sliding over the material. "Can I…" she trails off, both of you aware of what she's asking. 

"Go ahead," you permit.

She unclips the fastener and watches as the two sides fall down, fully exposing your back to her. Once you slip it off of your arms and toss it towards your suitcase, her fingertips ghost over your skin, tracing the gentle curve of your spine. 

She dons a musing smile when she notices goosebumps appearing in their wake. 

Perhaps she was wrong. Maybe all along, you've been the art and she the beholder. 

Her knees go to either side of your waist as she moves to straddle you, settling down onto you. Once she's sure you're comfortable, she retrieves the bottle of lotion from its place on the bed and squeezes some out onto her fingertips. 

It's smooth as it slides against them, medicated and cool. Her favorite brand makes it, and she never leaves the house without it. She'll be thanking her lucky stars endlessly for that habit after tonight.

Something crossed between a hiss and sigh fights past your lips when she makes contact for the first time, spreading the chilly cream across your shoulders. The attempt she made to warm it beforehand clearly didn't work as well as she thought, and she has to stifle a laugh at your reaction. 

Beneath her fingers, your muscles tense and jump; you do your best to relax them as she pushes harder, kneading them with care. She does so with a steady rhythm, using the base of her hands to loosen you up first before focusing her fingers on the more persistent knots. Every circle of her hands against you warms the lotion up more, convincing you to relax and give into the relief she’s able to provide.

You close your eyes, wanting to focus on her motions. 

What you failed to prepare yourself for, though, is the notion that she’s closer to you than ever. Only separated by the material of your shorts and hers, she sits atop you, her warm thighs trembling slightly with effort anytime she has to push herself up to reach you better. 

When she steadies herself on your lower back, splaying a hand across it, you can feel the subtle way her hips rut against your ass as she readjusts her position. 

Maybe you're just imagining it.

Serious work is put into leaving that idea behind, but at every opportunity she gets, Jiu seems to enjoy feeding your delusion. 

When she accidentally gets too much lotion at once, her solution comes in the form of leaning down and running her hands up your outstretched arms, reaching as far as she can to further spread it. In the process, her front presses against the length of your body; her breathing is shuddered, too, just like yours. 

Did she do that to show you it’s mutual?

If only you knew.

Her eager eyes rake over your body, pleased to have you like this in front of her. At her mercy, reacting to the faintest of touches. Possessing this kind of power again makes her feel brave in a dangerous way; should things continue like this unchecked, she might do something impulsive.

But, is she to be blamed? No; she rejects that. 

The subtle rock of your hips is far guiltier than her, adding fuel to the fire of her imagination. The way your hands fist in the sheets, fingers twisting in a show of pain and pleasure whenever she hits a particularly sensitive spot, are in the wrong; the sight makes her wonder, for a desperate second, how they would feel in her hair. 

Her motions – now more wanton, unafraid of touching you – grow a little more rough, shying away from demurity. They’ve arrived at your waist now; a risky place to be. 

She can tell that the appropriate amount of time for two exes to spend doing something like this is dwindling fast; the window of propriety will be closing soon, leaving any further contact between the two of you up for suspicion. She’s aware of that, and yet she has no desire to stop.

In this game of yours, she’s merely a pawn; that’s something she realizes when the sound of a guttural, appreciative moan from you makes her heart flutter wildly. 

She freezes in place, taking a cautious breath; she shouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as she did.

A few beats pass… one…. another…. before you ultimately take her stunned reaction as a sign of discomfort.

“Uh, thanks again,” you say quietly, suddenly feeling ten times too exposed and five hundred degrees too hot. A couple taps to her leg gives her the memo, and she climbs off of you.

Embarrassed and upset with yourself for doing such a thing, you refuse to even so much as make eye contact with her again. 

An apology from you fizzles into the air, but she’s still too overwhelmed to fully process what just transpired. It all happened too fast; she wants to go back and relive it, but it’s too late. You’re already slipping your shirt back on and burying yourself under the covers, humiliated. When you cover your face with the pillow, debating on smothering yourself, she spares you by reaching over and turning the lamp off. 

She lifts her side of the covers afterward, getting in beside you. You face away from one another, back to back, establishing distance once again.

This night is proving to be anything but predictable.

—

2:07 AM

Insects perform their songs outside, languidly calling to one another from high above – nestled in the leaves of the tree tops – and far below, amid the grassy trails and branching networks of hills. All is calm… until it isn’t.

Suddenly, the stillness of the night is interrupted by a recurring, unintelligible noise. 

The first time you hear it, you ignore it, opting instead to bury your head a little deeper into your pillow. It's probably just the house settling or something outside, you reason.

The second time, you're annoyed enough to pause your attempt at restful sleep with the hopes of discovering its source and stopping it.

It comes again a little later, but from somewhere you never would've expected. Rather, you suppose, someone.

Your name takes the shape of a mumble as it slips through Jiu's lips, altered slightly from how her cheek is pressed to her pillow. Any other time you might find it exciting to hear her say it, but here and now, you can't say you do. 

Warmth spreads to your cheeks as your sleepy mind recalls what happened just a few hours ago, making you relive your embarrassment.

The noise comes again, and a little louder this time; an irritated groan leaves you as you take one of the throw pillows and nudge her, attempting to quiet her. It seems to work for a minute, but just as you settle back down to rest again, something even worse happens.

"Y/N… ah," she moans, her voice breathy and ragged. 

Is she...?

Your eyes open wide when you realize what's taking place right beside you.

Jiu is totally having a sex dream about you.

What a revelation to have.

She writhes in search of relief, causing the covers to fall down her body and expose more of it. Her pajama top, too, has ridden up and ruffled in her pursuit of friction. 

She looks an absolute mess, you realize, as you roll over to look at her. Her hair splays across the pillow in every which way, her chest rises and falls at a faster rate than normal, and her thighs push together to lessen the throbbing between them. Your blood runs cold when you notice that she isn’t wearing her shorts anymore. Only a pair of lacy, white panties conceal her, gleaming in the moonlight with a softness that begs to be touched.

Hot and bothered is the only way to describe her.

"Please," she whines, desperation hanging heavy on the tones of her voice. 

Selfishly, you don’t wake her right away. Seeing her like this, so close and beautiful, is something you don’t want to give up again. At least not yet.

Her full lips part as her head pushes into the pillow, exposing her neck. Her muscles are pulled taut as she squirms; her hands fisted in the sheets at her sides. A thin sheen of sweat is visible on her forehead, showing just how affected she is. 

Maybe you should play nice and put an end to her suffering…

Her hips begin to rock, slowly at first; the motion draws a soft sigh from her as she finally gets some relief. Your body begs you to touch her in some way, feeling your own desire grow at the sight of her. 

Unconsciously – and to prevent you from reaching out to her – your fingers thread themselves in the cover that's thrown haphazardly over you. You bite your lip to keep it busy; otherwise you'd be tempted to wake her up with your mouth, as she's asked you to before.

Only when your own arousal becomes too much to bear do you decide to end this little game. 

She whimpers when you move in closer, still a world away. Her hand falls on your thigh, however, making you falter for a moment. It's warm and dangerously close to your center, trembling slightly against you. Her nails threaten to leave indentations, should she flex her fingers the right way.

Unable to deny yourself such a simple pleasure, you allow it to stay where it is. 

"Jiu." 

She doesn't stir. If anything, the sound of your voice only drags her further under. Her breath hitches in time with another stutter of her hips.

You'll have to try harder.

“Jiu, wake up,” you whisper, leaving a kiss on her cheek. Your lips hover nearby to utter her name again, should they need to.

Gently, you bring a hand to her shoulder and shake it, hoping to coax her out of her dream and back to reality. After a moment, your plan works; her eyes open gingerly, blinking a few times to adjust from her daze. 

“Y/N?” Confusion is prevalent in her voice, coupled with her drowsiness. It’s cute, really, and it takes you back to all the mornings you would wake up by her side. 

“It’s me; I'm here,” you reassure her, moving your hand to her hip. Now with your arm stretched across her body, you can feel the warmth radiating from her. It starkly contrasts with the chilly air of the room, making you want to hide away under the covers and pull her in close. 

But, of course, you refrain. That’s not something you can do anymore.

Her dark eyes shine in what little light the room has to offer, gazing up at you with a sweet innocence that you find endearing. She's vulnerable in this state, and yet by the way she shifts closer in your arms, she makes it known that she trusts you. 

You watch as her gaze travels down your arm, towards where your hand still rests against her hip. Momentarily, she looks as if she's questioning something within her mind – attempting to piece something together. 

"Y/N, did we…?" She trails off, unsure. 

"Did we what?" You push, testing the waters. You have an idea of what she wants to know, but hearing her say it would be so much better. 

Surprisingly, she puts her hand over yours, keeping it in place. 

"Did we have sex?" The question comes out in a husky whisper as she makes an effort to be quiet.

You shake your head in reply as a slightly humored smile works its way onto your lips. 

The movement draws her attention to them; they're a beautiful shade, with the moonlight hitting them just right. She can't find it in herself to look away. 

A few seconds pass before you speak again; her hand grips yours a little tighter. 

"It was just a dream. You–"

Your explanation is cut short by her lips as they press to your own in a swift kiss. 

Reckless. 

You pull away at once, almost like you've been burned. Why would she do that? 

Both of you pause, regarding one another. Your eyes work hard to decipher her intentions – what she wants – through the darkness of the room, as if they have such a gift. Hers do the same, searching your face for the answer she wants.

She gets it in another form, however, as your hand slides higher on her waist. Her heart lurches in her chest, its rate increasing somehow. Part of her is afraid you can feel it; but, truthfully, that's exactly what she wants. If you could feel how badly she needs you in this moment, maybe you'd show some mercy and help her. 

Maybe.

Tension hangs heavy in the air of the room as she slips her hand higher, too, moving it between your thighs. The heat that's come to pool there encourages her, compelling her to cup you through your clothes. 

You gasp, earning a smile from her. You clearly aren't as over her as you pretend to be. 

Empowered, she rolls you over, trading your positions. Now she hovers over you as you lie on your back, waiting with bated breath to see what she'll do. 

Her hand slides up and over the waistband of your shorts slowly, edging closer and closer to your center with only your panties separating her from you. Your eyes flutter closed in response.

"I'm going to kiss you again," she whispers, sounding more confident than ever. "If you want me to stop, tell me. Okay?" 

You nod, trying to stay still. Fighting the urge to rock your hips into her hand is easier said than done.

She leans into you, letting her body mold into yours as she shuffles closer. She replaces the hand between your thighs with a leg, giving you something to grind against. You thank her by slipping your hands beneath her top and pulling it over her head.

"Beautiful," you whisper against her lips, as she presses them to yours again. You take her into your arms in a safe embrace, sighing into her mouth when her bare chest rubs against you. The thin material of your shirt does little to obstruct the feeling. 

Though the shadows hide it, a deep, crimson blush warms her cheeks. She can taste the cinnamon toothpaste that you used earlier and smell the familiar scent of your hair products. You still use the same ones, she realizes. 

Her leg flexes instinctively as you cup her cheek and deepen the kiss, tilting your head to the side. As you raise your hips to meet hers, she slides a hand up to your chest to offer it some attention. A pitiful noise leaves you when she makes contact, cupping your breasts. She pulls away from your lips to admire you, wanting to see the effect she has.

“Such a pretty thing,” she compliments, feeling arrogant when you bite your lip to stifle a moan. She toys with you like a plaything, switching her movements every so often to garner different reactions. You’re restoring her confidence without even trying; such sweet oblivion.

What she doesn’t fully grasp in the moment, though, is that your arrangement is very much so a two way street. You demonstrate the power you still have over her as you take hold of her hips, pulling them down as you thrust up to meet them. 

Just as her thigh is between your legs, so is yours between hers; the mutual relief you receive at the motion entices you, making you repeat it.

She curses into your ear, the sound so full of raw desire that you nearly lose all sense of reason right then and there. Her head falls against your shoulder in ecstasy as she revels a little longer, enjoying the heat that spreads throughout her body the more you touch her.

It’s just like it used to be in so many ways, but somehow new. Still exciting. Still everything she hoped for.

Her lips find their way to your cheek in the darkness, leaving a trail of kisses downward, along your jawline and neck. They’re desperate and needy, accompanied by her shuddered breaths as she attempts to convey everything you’re making her feel. She can only cross her fingers and hope that it’s mutual.

“Come here,” you instruct, tapping her leg. She understands in an instant, wordlessly repositioning herself so that she’s straddling your waist now. The new angle is even more comfortable, and she sits back to give you a better look at her body as a way of expressing her gratitude. Her perky breasts are on full display, looking absolutely divine above the lines of her abs. You run a finger over the latter, tracing the hard-earned muscles in admiration. 

Subtly, her hips begin to gyrate. She wants the movement to be tortuous, starting slow and building up until you can’t take it anymore. It’s only fair to give you a taste of your own medicine after all this time. 

“Shit, Jiu,” you exhale, glancing down to where you’re joined. Her panties glisten as she writhes, displaying the wet spot that you’ve caused; when her grinding becomes a little sloppier, you can feel her slick spread to your abdomen. 

"You like that, baby?" She muses, breathing heavy. You nod vehemently, not quite trusting your voice enough to speak yet. 

You splay a hand across her pelvis, using your thumb to tease her clit. 

She shakes as a surprised, broken moan slips out of her mouth. It’s louder than either of you expected it to be, and you find yourselves wanting to laugh for a moment.

“Play fair,” she warns, glaring at you. “...unless you want to wake everyone in the house up?” It’s posed as a question rather than a statement. 

“I wouldn’t be–” you pause, exhaling when she presses into you a little harder, cocking a brow, “...opposed to that, necessarily.” 

A sexy smile plays on her lips, making them look more kissable than ever. “No?” Something dangerous shines in her eyes.

“Try me.”

She bites her lip, weighing her options. You asked for it.

Her voice is whiny when she speaks again, and about five times louder than necessary at that. “I need you, Y/N. Please…” her hands thread into her hair exaggeratedly, playing into the show she’s giving. “Fuck me–”

You sit up at once, clasping a hand over her mouth and using the length of your body to push her backwards and pin her down against the bed. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you remain deathly still for a few tense seconds, trying to make sure her little stunt didn’t actually wake anybody up. 

You didn’t really think she’d do it.

The sound of distant footsteps fills the hall, a series of padding and waiting, before the latch of a bedroom door clicks. The floorboards creak… someone's weight shifting from one foot to the other as they peek into the hall. 

Jiu smiles against your palm, feeling every thump of your nervous heart. 

When she wraps her legs around your waist and slips a hand between your bodies, your eyes screw tightly shut. 

"Stop," you whisper, the noise like harsh wind on a calm night. 

Her wanting eyes peer up at you, observing. The situation is delicate, so that's exactly how she'll treat it. 

Slowly, she places her free hand beside her head on the bed and glances at it, inviting you to hold it. Upon hesitantly removing your own from her mouth, you thread your fingers with hers as you pin it down.

Innocently, she kisses your neck again, just above your pulse point. Her warm breath tickles your skin, only further stirring the fire within you. 

"Do you really want me to?" She asks, voice sinful and rich. Her lips still, full and tempting, awaiting your answer.

Another door opens somewhere else in the house, followed by heavy footsteps. Someone trekking to the kitchen, it seems. Your mouth runs dry.

Her fingers toy with the hem of your shorts, edging them down little by little. "Say it again and I will," she promises. "Tell me you don't want me and I'll stop." 

You sigh as she pulls your panties to the side, finally slipping her hand past the material. She finds your clit easily, with no real effort necessary; she knows your body now just the same as she did before. 

"I…" you start, fighting back a stutter. Two of her fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering up some of your wetness. "...I can't." 

"You can't what, Y/N?" She moves her fingers left and right, teasing. 

"I can't say I don't want you," you groan, annoyance bubbling up within you. 

"Why not?" You can tell she's smirking just by the sound of her voice. 

"Because I'm sick of lying," you admit. "I've always wanted you." 

Her cocky attitude falters. 

A beat passes.

All footsteps outside retreat back into their respective rooms, and closing doors resound shortly after. 

Effectively, the two of you are alone again.

Silence prevails following your confession – an eternal moment unbroken by any words of reciprocation from her. It lends your mind to chaos, filling it with worry.

You shouldn't have said anything. This was a mistake. 

Embarrassed, you sit up and remove yourself from Jiu, moving towards the edge of the bed. She reaches out for you, though you don't see it. 

"I'm sorry," your head shakes, discontent. "I shouldn't have–"

"Shush," she commands, surprising you. She refuses to let this end like before, with you retreating and shutting her out.

Your eyebrows raise as you turn to look at her; she still lays where you left her, only now she's propped up on her elbows. 

"Don't say you regret it. Please." Her voice sounds small. 

"But I thought…" 

Her eyes remain on you as she sits up, carefully moving to sit next to you on her knees. 

"I never stopped either, Y/N. I just couldn't believe you've felt the same all this time." She explains, not wanting you to misinterpret her silence any longer. 

Your fingers toy at your thighs, still jittery with nerves. She notices, and lays a comforting hand on top of them.

"I've missed you," she adds. Softly, quietly. So as to not disturb this process. Together, you're beginning to pick up the pieces of what you let slip through your fingers before. 

"Me too," you reassure her, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek. She leans into your touch, letting her eyes fall shut. 

The walls she so adamantly built around her heart are lowering, little by little, and the notion scares her. If she gives herself to you tonight and you end up walking away, she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to recover. 

“I’ve got you." The phrase sounds like a promise from your heart to hers; it’s as if you read her mind. “I won’t let things get in the way like before.”

She looks at you again, peeking her eyes open. The earnest look on your face is sincere enough to convince her of anything. “I’ll spend however long it takes proving it to you, Jiu.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I believe that.”

“Good,” you say, releasing a small breath of anticipation you hadn’t realized you were holding in.

She squeezes your hand three times, reminding you of the past. 

Nostalgia befalls you, both in good ways and bad. So much regret exists between the two of you, centering around the breakup that neither of you really wanted in the first place. Life got in the way, then, and you were both too naive to fight against what you thought were fate’s currents. 

It was decided that if you couldn’t be together, you’d have to settle for the ghost of one another. 

Jiu found you in midnight moonlight, shining brightly amid the darkest of hours. You ruled from high above, with your impact spanning further than you ever realized. 

She found you in the sound of laughter – the kind that starts by surprise, bubbling up from within and spilling out in a way that couldn’t not be contagious. The kind that everyone appreciates when they tell a joke with their fingers crossed, hoping it lands. 

In warm tea and fireside reading you resided; a comforting hug on winter’s coldest day.

But traces of you were left behind in unwanted places, too, like fingerprints on a window. No matter how many cycles of washing and drying her sheets went through, they still smelled like you. 

Her skin still remembered the way you touched her, igniting a fire that only you could put out. Her lips remembered your taste, knowing nothing could compare. She tried, for a time, to replace the imprints you left behind; but her efforts were in vain. 

You were her mirage in the desert; a distant, elusive dream. Glimmering with untapped potential, waiting to be caught. She ebbed, you flowed. That’s how you would be, then and forever.

Or so she thought.

Had she known that she was the Sun to you, perhaps her hope would’ve been restored. 

Or maybe she would have laughed, knowing that you found her in the strangest of places. Like seatbelts, for instance, and napkins; always necessary, and always staving off the bad that the world had to offer. 

She was the chilly blast of air provided by the AC on summer’s most humid day, greeting you at the door of every shop you entered. 

She was the sleepy delirium you slipped into on your days off, all pleasant dreams and comfortable positions.

The flowers and blossoms of the world were all her kisses, like a goddess’s gift to the Earth. Elegant, sweet, perfect. Being showered in them was a good luck charm; they rode the air currents on spring days, fluttering greetings on their way.

Coming home. To you, that was her. The familiarity of the floorboards, knowing where to step to avoid them creaking; the refrigerator light against a pitch-black kitchen, its crescent shape holding the darkness at bay; the support of your bed, offering relief to the parts of you that needed it most.

Truth be told, both of you found each other in everything. Bits and pieces, all fragments far too small to equate to the immensity of what you shared. Glimpses would never do in the long run, and you knew that. But what else were you to do?

Perhaps that silent hope that you held out, all daydreams and utterances of what if, swayed the universe into this. Into giving you an in; an opportunity to right your wrongs. A chance to hold tighter, this time, and accept trials and tribulations as signs of growth to be handled together – not reasons to give up. 

You feel yourself smiling before you realize you’re even doing it. Her presence has a whole new meaning now, a whole slew of possible outcomes. Wherever the two of you decide to take things is up to you again; there’s nothing holding you back anymore. 

She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her thumb across your soft skin. Even just holding you like this, so simply, is something she’s been longing for. Since the day you walked into her life, you’ve ruled her world without even knowing it. Sweet oblivion, yet again.

“Kiss me,” she says, after a moment. It draws you from the hold of her spell, bringing you back down to Earth. 

You obey with a smile, but just before your lips meet hers, she stops you. She didn’t mean there.

“Here,” she corrects, as her hand guides yours back between her thighs. She’s wetter now than she was before, somehow, and you moan against her at the feeling. She muffles the noise with a kiss of her own, knowing how badly you need it. 

She bites your lip as she pulls away. “We’re not leaving this bed until you’ve made up for every night we’ve been apart. Do you understand me?”

You sigh, half-amused. “I’m fairly certain that the group is going hiking in the morning,” you inform, “...so I think it’s important that you’re still able to walk for that.”

“Who says we have to join them?” She raises a brow, pushing you down onto the bed and moving to straddle you again. 

You pull a face, feigning concern. “You wouldn’t want to be improper, now would you?” 

Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, accepting no blame. “What happens is up to you. Take me now or forever hold your peace.” She declares it proudly, posing herself before you. 

The view of her on top of you – nearly naked, her body humming with want, waiting for your touch – dispels any and all remnants of humor. Your shared desire wins out, filling the air of the room; she’s aware of her power over you, but she’d be a liar to act as if watching your eyes darken didn’t make her stomach flip just like it did the first time you ever took her. 

With a hushed curse, you capture her lips in a searing kiss. She gasps into it when you roughly pull her panties down, showing little care in being gentle now. Her response comes in a similar form, with her hastily tugging your shirt over your head; once you’re exposed to her, she can’t help but stare. She admires every curve like it’s the first time she’s seen it; every line like it’s her last. It’s adoration and desperation, all at once; appreciating it all is important to her, but so too is relearning it. 

Luckily for you, she happens to be best at a hands-on approach.

Her nails drag across your abdomen on their way downward, leaving faint marks on your sensitive skin; she can’t wait to see how many she can leave on you. It’s always been one of her favorite things to do.

In one fluid motion you flip her over, cradling her close in the process. Her hands cup your cheeks as she kisses you, and you hurriedly remove any remaining clothes from your bodies. 

She spreads her legs for you as you begin to slide down her body, leaving one final kiss to her lips. 

Her hands hold your hair up as you explore her abdomen, painting her fair skin with an array of love bites. Her nails dig into your scalp when her impatience hits a high, making you smile against her despite the sting. 

She hums appreciatively when you finally slide your hand down, ready to prepare her for what she wants most. She’s absolutely soaked, and by the whine that she lets out when you press your palm to her clit, it’s safe to say that she’ll only get worse. The bed sheets below her have already received some of her slick, proudly displaying a wet spot for you to bear witness to. 

“Enough teasing, jagi,” she groans, breathless and tired of your games. With shut eyes and furrowed brows, she pushes her head back into her pillow and takes up the writhing again that she had become so good at earlier. Her hands fall to your shoulders, pushing you down further.

You settle her thighs on your shoulders, basking in how smooth and warm they are around you. She’s perfection in human form; divinity personified.

“Keep it down, Jiu,” you command, taking control. “If you pull another stunt like earlier, I’m stopping altogether.”

She nods feverishly, lacking the desire to be a brat anymore. If playing nice is what it takes to have you, then so be it. That promise of release is finally back again, after all this time, and she can let herself get lost in you. 

These four walls – what she once loathed – are creating an oasis.

Her personal utopia.

—

The Next Morning

Overzealous birds work as your alarm clock of sorts, claiming the prize of waking you up. You blink the sleep from your eyes and stretch, feeling a pleasant soreness in parts of your body it hadn’t been before last night. The ache reminds you of everything you did just a few hours ago, and you find yourself smiling like an idiot as you roll over to greet the resident sadist next to you.

When your hand meets the cold, empty expanse of the bed instead, your expression sours.

The bedside table is void of any note or message, too, you discover, though your phone sits atop it, charging. At some point this morning she must’ve plugged it in for you. Sweet, but not enough. You wanted to wake up in her arms, or at the very least next to her. 

Grumbling, you sit up and head to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

You have no idea what the day will hold for the two of you.

–

Clean and dressed, you take a seat on the bed. Your fingertips mindlessly press to the hickey on your neck – one of the many, many that you discovered as you got ready – rubbing patterns against the abused skin there.

You unplug your phone and turn it on, mentally crossing your fingers as you scan through your message notifications for her name. 

Your pursuit proves fruitless. Not even a text.

You huff like a child, rolling your eyes. So much for a vacation; now you’re stressed all over again. 

When staring a hole into your phone doesn’t result in her notification magically popping up, you decide to give it a rest.

Standing up, you slip it into your back pocket and head for the door, ready to track Y/BFFs/N down and tell her everything.

However those plans, too, come to a screeching halt right before your eyes as you swing the door open to reveal a shocked Jiu. Your timing truly is impeccable.

“AHHH!” She shrieks, frightened. 

She hastily scrambles to keep the large tray in her hands upright and off of the floor. 

Spilling the spread of foods she just finished preparing for the two of you doesn’t sound too appealing to her, after all.

Immediately, you spring into action and successfully help steady it. Some fruits fell out of their separate containers and a bit of milk spilled over the side of its jar, but all of that is easily fixable. Jiu releases a tense breath as she realizes that the worst case scenario was avoided, but she glares at you as she pushes her way into the room.

“Pabo,” she mutters, striding over to the bed. The slight limp in her step makes you smile inwardly, proud of yourself.

Once the food is safely laid down and she cleans up what spilled, she turns to look at you. 

“Sorry,” you mitigate, grimacing. When you approach her and look at everything she put together, your annoyance from before gives way to guilt. A plethora of your favorite foods decorates the tray, assembled with love.

She regards you for a moment, pretending to be angry. When her eyes land on one of the darkening marks on your neck, pleased mischief comes to gleam in them.

“You’re lucky I like you,” she threatens, pointing a finger at you.

Playfully, you bite the tip of it. 

“I’m aware, jagi.”

Cautiously, you ease your arms around her waist, ready to pull away if need be. Although her lips still rest in an unamused pout, she doesn’t stop you. 

The jackhammering of her heart has eased now, and you can feel its pace returning to normal as you draw her into your arms. She loops hers around your neck and sweetly presses her cheek to yours, content with staying like that for a bit.

You sway gently, rocking from side to side. This definitely makes up for the rude awakening you received earlier.

Once you’re satisfied, you pull away enough to look at her. Your fingertips brush a few stray strands of hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear. She leans in, finally kissing you good morning.

“Ready to eat?”

Your lips purse in mock contemplation as you scan the food again. 

"Mmm, five more minutes?" You suggest, leaning forward to kiss her again. She laughs into the embrace lightly, returning the gesture. 

Her lips taste of the strawberries and cherries that she stole bites of earlier, as she cooked. It's addicting, you find, when she deepens the kiss and wraps herself around you, melting into your arms. You hold her close, just like she wants. 

"Does this mean…" she mumbles between kisses, "we're still gonna room together?" 

You pause to laugh. "Yeah, jagi. We're still roommates. No getting rid of me now." 

She replaces her lips on yours, kissing them again and again as you attempt to control the growing smile on your face. She sweetly cups your cheeks, rubbing her thumbs across them as you continue.

Abruptly, jarring clapping resounds from the doorway. Fake sniffling can also be heard, and so the two of you look up to investigate. 

It's none other than Sua and Y/BFFs/N, standing side by side with their hands clasped tightly together like proud parents. 

"I told you it would happen," Sua wails, dabbing fake tears from the corner of her eye. Y/BFFs/N agrees, nodding enthusiastically. 

“Mission accomplished,” she quips, looking straight at you. 

It seems as though they had been playing Cupid all along…

Sneaky.

#jiu #kim minji #kim jiu #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher x reader #jiu x fem reader #jiu x reader #dreamcatcher x fem reader #sua #kim bora #jiu smut #dreamcatcher smut #dreamcatcher angst #dreamcatcher fluff #jiu fluff #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher oneshots #dreamcatcher au #dreamcatcher kpop #let-them-read-fics #kim minji x reader #minji #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop fluff #exes #exes to lovers

[thequietkid-moonie]

hi!! I was wondering if u could write romantic headcanons of karma with a gender neutral s/o who has both autism and adhd? (This slowly became a personal biography I apologize) They have strong symptoms of both, processing things slower than others and having trouble with conversation when they aren’t in the moment. They stim a LOT by nature in very obscure ways that make people stare, including verbalizing, rocking back n forth, holding their arms up while walking and grasping anything. They have a lot of really weird, gross detailed ideas and a sense of style that is meant to confuse and surprise people. They are insanely political and passionate about punk rock and goth values, fashion and music! They have a very logical and organized yet chaotic mind but they are smart mouthed, snarky and easily irritated by errors or uncooperative things. They also like to hold onto people’s sleeves or cling to their arms!! Basically they (me) are the irl entrapta from she ra :) thank u!

Extravagant S/O with autism and ADHD

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Karma Akane ]

[ Assassination Classroom / Ansatsu Kyoshitsu ]

ggggg this is to specific to my liking!! BUT I will do it, I think this goes for comfort and that is why im doing it, still im not going to take it literally! I change some things but I try to keep it as much as I can

I haven't watched She Ra so i can't use it as a reference

I didn't know how else to describe it to the title, I really hope you don't mind

Karma doesn't discriminate, it doesn't matter if you are diferent or too common (for his liking), if you have a disability or not, he treats you just like if you were any other person, also how you are doesn't stop him from seeing you as a enemy or victim (in case you do something against him) or to fall in love with you

Once Karma is interested on you he want to know more about you, and since you are his partner he is specially interested in whatever it has to do with you (still he will try to don't invade your privacy), the moment he knows that you have autism and ADHD he is going to search all the information he can about it and will watch you close to identify different trails of it on you (however he won't never tell you or admit it out loud this)

Karma always says that he has no problem with the way you stim or express yourself, he says that he doesn't even mind but that is a lie because he LOVES the way you express, he really likes seeing you stim he finds it pretty interesting and he doesn't see anything bad on it, if it makes you happy or even helps you feel more comfortable then you should do it whenever you want

Sometimes he stare at you while you stim but never is to make fun of you is just that he finds it kinda funny and amusing, he stare at you with love but if he ever see someone looking at you he will stand up for you quickly, if that person seem confused or intrigued (in a morbid way) he will stare at them until they feel uncomfortable/intimidated and go away, but if that person dares to look at you as if they were watching something disgusting Karma will not have mercy of that person and imediatly goes against them (doesn't go immediatly violent but it isn't like he doesn't want to)

He doesn't let anyone say anything bad about your stim or how you express but he sometimes mess a little with you, like when you hold your arms up he takes your hands and jokinly asking you if it isn't that you were asking for him to hold your hands, sometimes he make little jokes about the movements you do with your body or if you have echolalia he does say different things on purpose just for you to repeat it (however, if he knows that it will upset you or really bother you he won't do it much)

It would take him a while to get used to you clinging onto his arms or even his sleeve still he doesn't mind much, but once he does get used to it he almost expect it all the time, there are moments where he feels like you haven't clingy on him for too long so he will point it out with a teasing voice and even shake his hands in front of you. Also, he may get a little jealous if you were clinging onto someone else for too long for his liking, instead of him or even to someone he doesn't like much, he isn't going to stop you from doing it but he is visibly more irritated

Whenever you have problems to undestand something or get too distracted Karma notice right away, he laughs softly at it before catching your attention and tells you again whatever he or the others were saying, or explaining it in a different way to help you understand it better, also Karma never really makes a big deal of it and even when he is the one catching your attention he does it so naturaly or even jokinly that it could go unnoticed, unless you two are alone, in that case he will tease you a little for it (but not exactly blaming your autism or adhd), he likes teasing you about this kind of thing but doesn't like when others do it

Do you have weird ideas that can be pretty bizarre or gross? fear not because you are dating Karma Akane, the one and only sadistic and charming super smart leader! He is more than happy to hear your ideas, no matter of what they are he is always happy to hear you out (also, he likes to make you feel appreciated and has no problem whit saying that he likes to heard your ideas), also if you ever feel embarrassed or bad for having those ideas Karma is quickly to indirectly reasure you that it isn't anything bad, is just the way you are, and he does reasure you by asking you more details, telling you how good/amazing idea it is or even complementing your idea with his own (whenever he does this is almost like you were making a plan against someone)

Karma is really smart, he pretty much understand that part of you being really organized but still a mess, in his head all his plans and ideas has completely sense, and also he has a really good memory and his plans against his victims do not hinder his studies and all of that it could be seen as kinda weird for others but he has a sistem, so he totally understand you and respect your own way to think and do things

Whenever you get stressed because you or someone else make a mistakes or that things doesn't seem to work if he is with you or you go to him for comfort or to vent he is completely willing to help you out, he sugest to let out all your stress and frustration by complaining about whatever is stressing you so much (even insulting it) or stiming all you need, although if you prefer he can help you either distracting you or helping you fix the mistake

#assassination classroom #assassination classroom x reader #ansatsu kyoushitsu x reader #karma akabane #karma akabane x reader #karma x reader #anime x reader #manga x reader #x reader #x gn reader #x autistic reader

[legendofmorons]

How to fall in love twice (Time, Malon) -Part 4

Pairing : Malon x Reader x Time

Rating: T

Summary: As you and Malon have some bonding time in Kara Kara inn Time gets pissy with the boys.

Warnings: Implied/ referenced child abuse, referenced alcoholism - (Reader had a drunk father that sucked until he was forced to get better or stay gone)

Other: if I missed anything, please let me know.

-------

You spend the two weeks a version of Wild's hyrule. The land is beautiful but the problem say it's only been twenty years since the calamity.

During this, you and Malon spend time talking and doing upkeep for an adventure. You gather rupees for odd jobs and stocking on supplies. With several faries and lots of weapons, you settle for basic food supplies. You leave an adventuring tag for the boys on the off chance they come across it

At the moment, you and Malon are settled inside the in of Kara Kara Buzzar, the busseling groups outside loud.

Inside is a haven of perfect temperature ir, maintained by enchanted sapphires.

"I hope the boys are doing okay." Malon says as she inspects her bow, eyes nothing but calculating.

"Mh, they're fine... By now, they're figured out that we're not coming back and that we got the mask."

"I know. I'm just worried. "

"Can I help?"

"No... It's just weird. I'm not usually the one on an adventure. "

You nod, not quite understanding the sentiment but understanding being on an adventure you weren't expecting or really even supposed to be on.

She looks at you fully, her soft smile a little bitter in the afternoon light. "I'm just glad that it's you that I'm with and not someone else."

"Oh- thanks. I'm glad it's you here too." Yoy say, trying not to come off as the giant smitten crush haver you are.

"You're sweet. It's really no wonder Link likes you so much."

"Oh, yeah... I try."

Malon just laughs, warm and amused. "You're a good person, and I've heard you're a Greta friend."

"That means a lot. Thank you."

She just smiles, pulling her bag onto the bed so she can double-check her arrow supply.

If she's honest- she likes you too. A lot. More than a friend even if it is a fresh crush.

You're funny, kind, and very attractive. She likes how you try to help people and protect those who need it. You're good people.

You turn to the window, watching the sands roll by as chatter sounds around you. The tourists outside are all dressed in linens and silks, seeking refuge from the sun as they browse the stalls.

You can hear Time worrying, even if you aren't actually there. You've seen it enough times, overheard his muttering, he thought no one could hear. You just hope he and the others are okay.

(You can see the pacing and the glaring as he mutters about where you and his wife might possibly be. The way he gets snappy with everyone's. How he takes as many watch shifts as he physically can before royally crashing. Only to repeat the whole process.)

"Hey, (Y/n)?" Malon calls.

"Yeah?"

"What was it like for you growing up?"

You turn to face her, her curiosity evident. And usually you don't just tell people about your past but most people don't ask. To be fair.

"Well... I mean, mom was born on a ranch and grew up there with her siblings. Dad was a royal guard from a long line of them.

"I grew up in castle town, I have three siblings though. And we spent every summer at Mamaw and Papaw's ranch. I did good in school but I struggled to keep up.

"It was okay, dad wasn't home a whole lot... Drank when he was, but he just got loud and angry."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine. The one time he hit us, mom nearly killed him." You give a shrug, "After that, he left for a year and came back better. I still don't talk to him much these days. But I don't feel like he's a danger anymore either."

"He hit you?" Malon asks, furry already filling her. How dare anyone ever mistreated children - how dare anyone mistreated you.

Oh, she'd like to kick your father's ass. That would be fun.

She can only imagine that Time would be on board.

"Once. Never again." You shrug, unphased because honestly you've faced worse on this quest with the boys.

"That's a real low thing."

"It's cool, I can kick his ass now. After learning to hold my own against the boys, I think I could take on Gannon myself." You crack a smile, hoping to distract her with a joke.

"I'm sure you could."

"Maybe that's why we got pulled away, to destroy gannon?" You snort at just the thought.

Gannon is so fucked is you or Malon meet him, but both of you- well he'd be done for. You both have a lot of rage towards him and you're both skilled at fighting.

"Ha! Maybe so."

"How would you do it?" You ask, "Defeat Gannon, I mean."

Malon tilts her head with a hum, thinking about the logistics of her ideal victory. She bites her lip as she does this.

"I think I'd just take my cast iron skillet to his head." Malon says with a shrug, "What about you?"

"Hm- I meN I'd wanna say the sword would let me weird it and go that route... but I'd probably be more likely to fight him with a baseball bat full of nails."

"That's a good choice."

"I think so!"

Malon changes the subject again, this time to the places you've been.

And you just enjoy the downtime with the redhead. You definitely are starting to fully grasp why Time likes her so much.

.......

Time can't stand can't of this, settled at a campfire in the Great plateu of Wild's hyrule is awful. Time's only thoughts are of you and Malon.

The woods are no comfort to him. Only making him more on edge because you could be anywhere in any time, and he'd never even see you if you were here.

Time is so worried. And everything is too quiet.

He's- used to not having Malon around all the time on this quest... But you've been there so long your absence is particularly felt.

The lack of your smile and laugh has been awful. Your help with cooking has been missed. The soft touches as you help him dress wounds -

Oh he's so fucked.

"I'm sure it's fine." Wind says a s he sits down by Time.

"Sailor - you don't know that. "

"I do. You have a type. Stubborn." Wind's smile at the end is a little smug.

"I- that is not my type."

"It's part of it."

"I'm just worried about them. Obviously, something happened. Neither of them would just run away. "Time says as he narrows his gaze on the ground.

"No... they wouldn't. "Sky says, "But they're together, are they're both smart."

"That doesn't mean they are in danger. I'm not even sure the mask is going to be helpful. What if they haven't even found it?"

Wind just listens, not sure how to help but wishing Time eoukd stop being so on edge.

"It will be okay, Time. Obviously you get them back. Or Twilight wouldn't exist." Sky tries to reason.

"That only means I get Malon back- what if (Y/n) dosen’t ever come back? What if It's my fault and I didn't hear them and-"

"Time." Twilight says firmly to try to stop the rambling spiral the man seems set on.

Everyone is worried about you and Malon. Everyone wants to get you all to safety-

"Hey, old man." Warriors calls out, "Come look at this."

Time stands, gaze landing on Warriors next to the largest tree in the forest, roots almost like their own tunnel.

The man was towards the knight, waiting for more instruction.

"These are (Y/n)'s initials, aren't they?"

Time looks, and maybe your hylian and his hylian are very different but you'd taught him how you tagged certain things when lost. A habit picked up from a survivalist uncle.

The tag carved into the tree reads your intials and then 'day 4'.

Unfortunately, the wood is well healed. At least fifty years have passed, probably longer. But the chain hadn't been in the plateu before, which means -

You got pulled away through a portal. With Malon at your side, probably. And you are in the past of the current time the boys are in.

That's some real shit.

"Well... at least we know what happened to them?" Wild trues, not really soundings too confident in it.

"I'm going for a walk." Time says in place of any real answer.

"Should we tag that way?" Wind suggests from behind the group.

"Maybe." Wild says, "So they can at least keep up with where we've been."

Warriors nods, deciding to tag the tree below your carving 'H.C. day 9.'

He just hopes you can figure it out.

Time can be seen going on a walk Allright, a real pissy walk.

Yikes.

#lu #linkeduniverse #misty writes #linked universe x reader #lu time #lu malon #lu malon x lu time #malon x time #time x malon x reader

[multifandomfix]

A Lady Of The Greatest Honor - Simon Basset

Summary: All the other ladies may be charmed by the rakish Duke, but you do not consider yourself among his admirers. Yet somehow he finds your attitude towards him amusing and seeks your friendship if nothing else.

Word Count: 1,191

Warnings: Heavy use of sarcasm

As three of the season's debutantes tittered at a remark one of them made about the newly arrived Duke of Hastings, you merely rolled your eyes at their naïveté. To think any of them stood a chance with such a notorious rake was the stuff of romance novels. You certainly had no intentions upon him yourself. You only hoped to secure a good match that also happened to be an all around good man.

Let the frivolous girls enjoy their senseless flirting. You couldn’t stand to see it yourself, but what concern was it of yours if the other ladies flung themselves at the unattainable Duke? At least it improved your chances of a proposal from a worthy man who actually sought a wife.

You danced with several men at the ball that night. A couple of them were complete bores, but you did your best to maintain a polite smile nonetheless. One or two had potential, but you soon tired of the night's events to warrant going back out onto the dance floor and making another attempt at a connection tonight.

For the remainder of the evening, you retreated to the outer edge of the room in observation of the rest of the ton in attendance. You did not see the ceaselessly spoken of Duke arrive to a halt next to you. "Is the lady not dancing," he asked if you.

"Certainly not with the likes of you if this is your way of asking."

He chuckled darkly. "I was only curious. The rest of the ton seems to be inexhaustible tonight."

"I suppose I just tire more easily," you replied flatly, trying to hide your embarrassment in assuming his intention when approaching you.

"Or perhaps you’re just more sensible than the others," he said. You opened your mouth to reply, but he’d gone before you could utter a word.

It was later, after the ball, that you found your thoughts drifting back to the Duke of Hastings. He was still a rake, that much was an indisputable fact, and one with no intention of taking a wife, but he had surprised you. He wasn’t the villain you made him out to be. You’d judged him too harshly, though you wouldn’t go about admitting as much to him.

The next time you saw him was at another ball, two days later where he approached you again. "I’m starting to think you may be in search of a wife after all, if we keep running into each other like this," you greeted with a wry grin.

"Don’t let the rest of the ton know, or else I’ll never have a spare moment to speak with you again," he teased back.

"Hmm, I’m not sure if that would be a bad thing or not," you pondered aloud, making sure he heard.

"Very funny."

You smiled at this, deciding to quit your endless ribbing at him in favor of a more earnest question. "What does bring you over to my corner of the room again? Surely there are many young ladies demanding your attention."

"That is precisely it. They demand, persistently, might I add. With you there is no pressure to be forcibly kind. You don’t have that expectation of me."

"Don’t I," you asked. "How can you know that for sure? Perhaps this is merely my tactic in attempting to secure you as a husband."

He laughed. "Then it is surely more effective than any other lady's method in getting my attention. Though I truly do not wish to impede your own search for a match, so if you wish me to go, I shall."

You considered it but a moment before offering your reply. "Stay. The lecherous old Mr. Higgins has made himself my pest for the night and I could use a plausible excuse to avoid him."

"Then do let me take you out for a dance. Lady Danbury will be disappointed if I don’t dance with someone tonight, and it may improve your offers if you’re to be seen with me."

"Aware of our own self worth then, are we," you jested.

"Only that of my rumored status, for I do not see myself in the same light as many of the ton do."

Offering you his hand, the Duke led you to the dance floor as you asked another sincere question. "Then how do you see yourself?"

"As a solitary man who has the world at his fingertips." His eyes sparkled with possibility at his own answer and you couldn’t help but smile in response. A family would certainly change his level of freedom to explore as you’d heard he was wont to do.

You danced the rest of the waltz in a comfortable silence, keenly aware of the many sets of eyes upon you. "Your Grace," you suddenly spoke, deflecting to a more formal way of addressing him in your growing unease.

"It is perfectly acceptable for you to address me as Simon when it’s just the two of us who can hear."

You paused when the song ended, and looked him in the eyes. "Simon," you breathed, testing the name on your tongue.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Thank you for the dance." It was the most genuine thing you’d said to him during any of your interactions.

"Thank you for accepting."

The two of you parted for the night after that. You danced with a couple more dashing lords, but none held your attention. It was unfair of you to give them hope of courting you for the season. Your heart wasn’t in it. In fact, your heart was quite confused.

You sat at home the following afternoon, playing piano for your family as you awaited the arrival of any gentleman callers. "There is a suitor for you," it was finally announced, interrupting your playing.

"Did he leave his name," you inquired.

"He refused," came the reply. Turning your head away from curious gazes, you smiled, having a sneaking suspicion of the man's identity.

"Send him in."

Not a minute later you looked up from the piano to find the Duke of Hastings standing in your home. "Lady Whistledown is going to start thinking I’ve tamed the ton's most infamous rake," you teased him.

"Let her think and say what she likes. I simply enjoy your company and wish to spend more time in it. If you have no other callers today, then I’d like to promenade with you if you’ll allow me."

The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop as your family awaited your answer. He’d come here for you and while you couldn’t confirm his intentions in doing so, you would be hard pressed to refuse him and miss out on an evening spent in pleasant company. "I believe my day is quite free," you said at last.

While you used to consider yourself a lady of the greatest honor, perhaps your morals could bend to open yourself to something akin to love if not love itself, even if the man in question was a well known rake. If you could change, was there not a possibility that he could as well?

Simon Basset: @retvenkos, @ladybridgerton39, @riveranddoctorsong123, @idk1323611, @theamazingworldofcarol, @esposamultifandom, @littlsstuff, @danimorgan1708, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @triorio

#simon basset #simon basset one shot #simon basset x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton one shot #request #send requests #requests open

[magpieinstitute]

Part 39 was absolutely fantastic, a great set-up for a series finale. Arthur is woefully under prepared to go into the Order of the Fallen Star, he's got many things on his mind and it's going to crash and burn and I can't wait to see how exactly that will happen.

Oh Noel... What a fascinating character, what a callback to the early days of the story! Finding out that he's Roland's old partner, and that he's been in the prison pits was a shock and a half! I absolutely love all the implications, the shape of the larger narrative that's emerging, it's so good!

I think it was extremely reckless of Arthur to spill the beans on John so suddenly, but I'm so glad it worked out and John got to have an actual conversation, a human connection with someone other than Arthur. He needed that so badly. To hear Arthur verbally thank John for his input in a conversation was especially great! And then John forgot...

This makes me perfectly sure that something deeper is wrong with John. It's not just pettiness, it's not resistance against Arthur's agency overpowering his own that he misses things or doesn't remember, there is something deeply off. He would not voluntarily forget a special experience like a conversation. Ever. It is deeply concerning and it makes me wonder if it's because he's a fragment and not a full Entity? That the further he drifts from the King, the more tenuous and shaky his grasp on his identity becomes until he can develop an actual self-image and form a new identity, free from the King. He cannot do that while he's so bound to Arthur. Arthur and John are individuals, but they're also one and the same. The one's mistake becomes the other's, they cannot be seen as separate beings. And for John especially, I think this is detrimental.

I think they need more discussions like they had in this episode where they ask each other what they're thinking about, what's on their mind. I think John needs to develop his sense of self so he can stand on his own without the King. And Arthur needs to respect that individuality more. Because John is right, he is a prisoner in there, as much as he's essential to Arthur.

Another thing I wanted to point out is Arthur's story. Meeting Percival again was a nice callback to a seemingly throwaway side point in an earlier episode, but the jury is still out on how important this second meeting will turn out to be. I feel like it's too coincidental, but we'll see where it goes. But the way Arthur told that story, it definitely means a lot to him. It's very introspective, and I think it reflects Arthur's fear that his end goals are going to be meaningless. Whenever John brings up separating them, Arthur glosses over it or dismisses it. I think he's gotten used to a passenger in his mind, and we already know he doesn't cope well with the absence of John. The woman is an interesting figure in that story. Is he hoping that something else will fill the void once he reaches his destination? I can't quite put my finger on the whole meaning yet, but I can't wait to return here in a year or so and cry about the inevitable gut punch it's going to be.

I'm also extremely amused by John asking if he's ever been in a fight (cold, calculating demeanour of someone not to fuck with my ass lol), promptly followed by one of the most violent beatings in a while. John's shock was delicious, but I think Arthur overdid it slightly lol. That aside, it was pretty funny overall.

In general, this was a great, well-paced episode and I am really looking forward to the next one. It's gonna be a doozy, I can feel it.

#malevolent podcast #arthur lester #john doe malevolent #part 39 #episode 39 #warning: rambling thoughts