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thetravelerwrites · 3 years

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Bashir (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Troll (World of Warcraft Design) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Fake Dating, Hired Boyfriend, Fake Boyfriend Content Warnings: Stalker Ex-Boyfriend, Stalking, Mention of Guns, Brief Violence Series: OkCryptid Words: 6365

A commission for @floral-and-fine! A woman getting out of a bad relationship has moved across her home state to get away from her controlling ex-boyfriend, only for him to show up at her job. Scared, she goes on OkCryptid to recruit a "boyfriend" in hopes of frightening him off. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

>Hi. I know we don’t know each other and this is pretty sudden, but I have a proposition for you, and it isn’t what you think.

Vague, yes, but it would catch his attention quickly enough, you thought. You were desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

>Oh, He messaged not long after. >What would that be?

>I want to pay you to go out with me for a while.

>I’m not a prostitute. Lol

>That’s not what I mean, You replied, rolling your eyes. >I know this sounds weird, and if I had more money I’d probably just hire a bodyguard, but I don’t.

>Why would you need a bodyguard?

You sighed. >I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about five months, but he was really possessive and crazy so I broke it off, and now he won’t leave me alone. I moved here last month from across the state and he followed me. He showed up at my work today.

>Ah, I see. So you want me to rip his arms off?

>No, I just want him to see me with someone who is big enough to rip his arms off. Maybe it’ll scare him away. You’re the biggest guy I could find on here. Well, I did find a cyclops that was pretty big, but she wasn’t interested.

>Have you gone to the police about this?

>Yeah, but they said unless I get proof he has intent to do harm, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get a restraining order unless he hurts me or causes property damage. It’s like he has to beat me up before they’ll do anything, and I’d rather not let it get that far.

>Gotcha. Why don’t we don’t meet for coffee tomorrow and talk it over?

>That sounds great. I’m free at lunch.

>Me too. I’ll meet you at Leo’s Diner, you know that one?

>No, but I can Google it. See you tomorrow at 11.

Bashir arrived right on time at eleven the next morning. He was a large troll, dark blue in color, with large, off-white tusks jutting out from the sides of his mouth and his long red hair braided in several placed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. He was muscular, thick in the waist, and around nine feet tall. He wore a suit, which was finely tailored to his body. You raised your eyebrows: his profile was sparse, so you didn’t know what kind of job he did; you’d only chosen him because of his picture. But dressed like that, you were surprised he even agreed to take this “job.”

“Hi, you’re the one I’m supposed to meet today, right?” He said, extending his hand.

“Yes,” You replied, standing and shaking his hand. Your hand was dwarfed in his. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“It’s no trouble,” He said, gesturing for you to sit back down as he took a seat opposite you. “So tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You said. “His name is Jake. I met him at work; we worked in the same department. He seemed nice, so when he asked me out, I didn’t think anything of saying yes. The first two months was fine, and were got along really well. As soon as we decided to be exclusive, he got really clingy really quickly. Every time I’d try to pull away, he’d clutch at me tighter. He started pressuring me to put distance between me and my friends, he wanted to know where I was all the time, he was constantly texting and calling and got mad when I didn’t respond right away. I got sick of it and broke up with him.”

“When did the stalking start?”

“Almost immediately. It didn’t help that we still worked in the same department, so I had to see him every day. He’d show up at my house after work and on the weekend. He’d either be super angry and demand that I let him in, or he’d be there with flowers and candy and cry and tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was sorry and he’d do better. He kicked my door in a couple of times and I had to call the police. I finally managed to get a restraining order against him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t come within five hundred feet, so he would stand on the curb exactly five hundred feet from my house and just watch the house. I was scared for my life. So I quit my job and moved across the state with just my savings. I found a job and I started last week. And yesterday, they said I had a new client, and it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I freaked out and called security, telling them I had a restraining order against him. He mistakenly thinks the restraining order is void because I moved, but I called and that’s not the case at all.” You sighed in aggravation. “I really hope this asshole doesn’t get me fired.”

“Hmm,” He said. “So what’s your offer?”

“Hmm?” You asked.

“You said you’d pay. What’s your offer?”

“Oh,” You said, surprised. “Uh, fifty bucks per date, plus the date expenses. I can’t really afford more than that.”

“That sounds fair. Okay,” He said. “I’ll do it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Really?” You replied. “You’ll take the job?”

“Sure,” He said. “I’ve got some free time, and the extra money will be nice. I could buy a new suit in a month.” He grinned and plucked at his own, no doubt worth several months of dates.

“That’s great, thank you,” You said, sighing in relief. “So, Friday night? Around six o’clock? Would that work?”

“Absolutely,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your phone number. I’ll add it to my contacts. That way, if you see him, you can call or text and I can head over and do the arm ripping thing.”

You laughed and took out your phone.

After exchanging information, the two of you had lunch and discussed the finer points of the job. PDAs were acceptable, but you’d prefer if he didn’t kiss you. He had a nine-to-five job, just like you, but his position was flexible and let him leave the office for errands, as long as he didn’t abuse the privilege. You left the lunch feeling a little safer.

Friday night, you met him at a nice Greek restaurant, and he wore another nice bespoke suit. He offered to pick you up at your home, but you didn’t really want him to know where you lived. You were still pretty paranoid about Jake finding out.

“I’m surprised you chose this place, considering you’re footing the bill and everything,” Bashir said, looking around. “It’s pretty fancy.”

“It has to look believable,” You reasoned. “And I do like Greek food. If you like, you can pick the place next time.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever had Mediterranean troll food?”

“No, I haven’t,” You said, interested. “What’s it like?”

“It’s very similar, except there’s no bread of any kind.”

“So what do you eat the hummus on?”

“You drink it like sauce.”

“You’re not supposed to drink sauce!” You protested.

He snickered.

“I feel like you’re making this up.”

“Maybe, but you’ve never met any Mediterranean trolls, so you don’t know.”

“Are you a Mediterranean troll?”

“I am, actually,” He said. “My parents came over from Morocco when I was a tot. I don’t remember much about Morocco, but I’ve always dreamed of going on a trip there, I’ve just never had the chance.” He gave a cursory look over the menu. “Maybe that’s what I’ll use this money for.”

“Sounds nice to me,” You said. “If we both get something good out of this, then that’s a plus.”

“What do you get out of this, other than getting rid of a bothersome ex?”

“Security and peace of mind,” You said, picking up your own menu. “That’s worth the price.”

He looked at you seriously. “This guy really shook you up, didn’t he?”

You set the menu back down and sighed. “He’s never hit me or threatened me verbally. The most he’s ever done is break my door, but…” You looked out of the window. “I feel like… it wouldn’t be hard, you know? It wouldn’t be that much of a leap from breaking my door in to doing something worse. If he gets mad enough, if he gets obsessed enough, who knows what he could do. All I know is that I don’t want to find out.”

“I understand,” He said. “I’ve never had to deal with something like that, because… well, look at me…” He gestured at his massive body. “But I do know people who have, and it sounds terrifying. I’m glad I can help, even if I am getting paid to do it.”

You smiled. “Well, it helps that you’re good company.”

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know,” He teased. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I will throat-punch you,” You said with a grin, and he laughed.

The next date was the following Saturday, and he chose to go to a concert. He wore a black v-neck shirt and a pair of black slacks, which was as dressed down as you’d seen him, but still very business-casual. It was a showcase of up-and-coming local bands, and they were all pretty good. You didn’t know that he liked Djent and progressive metal, too, but you were happy to have a common interest.

In truth, Bashir was pleasant to be around, and you were relieved that this entire thing wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. It definitely helped make this “dating” business look real from an outsider perspective. He held up his end of the bargain really well over the next dozen dates, holding your hand and putting an arm around you as if it was perfectly normal to do so. Thankfully, it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable when he did it, as he was very warm and the height difference meant he couldn’t be too cuddly naturally. You hoped that if Jake was watching, he believed you’d moved on and had no thoughts for him.

Unfortunately, if he was watching, he didn’t take the hint.

One night, as you were turning off lights and getting ready for bed, you looked out of your bedroom window and there he was, standing on the curb across the street, Jake stood in the shadow of a tree, vaping, and looking toward your house.

Panicked, you didn’t your best to stay calm while you were at the window, not wanting him to know you had seen him, but as soon as you walked away, you turned off the bedroom lights, snatched up your phone, dashed downstairs, and frantically checked the windows and doors, making sure they were all locked.

You meant to call the police, but instead, you dialed Bashir’s number. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?” He asked, sounding caught off guard. You weren’t surprised, you never called or texted him unless it was about the next “date.”

“Jake’s outside,” You whispered. “He’s across the street, I’m looking at him right now from my living room window.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’d recognize that stupid snakeskin vape box anywhere,” You said.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m heading over. Stay on the phone with me until I get there. Do you have a landline?”

“Yeah,” You replied.

“Get it and call the police. Don’t tell them he’s stalking you because, well frankly, they won’t care. Say you’re a concerned member of the neighborhood and there’s a suspicious man hanging around outside and you’re worried about a break in.”

It wouldn’t have been a lie. “Okay,” You said, picking up your cordless phone.

After calling the police, you waited with your heart in your throat, listening to Bashir get into his car and drive. He’d heard you tell the operator your address. He arrived before the police did, his vehicle a nondescript SUV, and he got out wearing sweat pants and a tank top and pulled a duffel bag from his passenger seat. He didn’t acknowledge Jake at all, simply walked up to your door and knocked. You went to open the door for him.

“Hug me and kiss my cheek,” He said in a low undertone. Gulping, you did as he said with him turning so that your display of affection was clearly visible to anyone watching from the street. You let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What now?”

“Let’s turn on the lights and make some coffee while we wait for the police,” He said.

“Okay,” You said, your voice shaking. You went to go into the kitchen but he stopped you by taking your hand.

“Hey,” He said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, and the police are coming. You’re safe.”

Tears came to your eyes and you nodded, wiping them. He released you and you went to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

The police arrived. You and Bashir watched covertly from the breakfast nook. Eventually, Jake walked to a car and got in it, driving away. The police followed him.

“They let him go?” You asked, worried.

“Well, they may not have know he has a restraining order, and even if they did, he looked plenty far away enough to not have violated it. He wasn’t breaking any laws other than loitering, so they couldn’t arrest him. At least they made sure he left.”

You held your head in your hands. “God, I don’t want to have to do all this over again.”

“It’s okay,” He said. “I’ll stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back tonight.”

“What about tomorrow? Or the next day? You can’t be here all the time,” You said, your voice shaking.

He sighed heavily. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

You scoffed in disgust. “I don’t want a fucking gun.”

“Okay,” He said. “Then, I’ll put up a security system. I brought one with me; it’s in my bag. I’ll set it up tonight while he’s not here.”

“It’s late,” You said weakly.

“Do you want to sleep or do you want peace of mind?” He asked you levelly.

You scrubbed your face, took a deep breath, drained your coffee cup, and stood up. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

It took a few hours, but he managed to get several security cameras fixed to the building, focused on entryways and the front and back yards. You helped him by holding the equipment and tools for him as he worked, handing up what he needed as he needed it. By the time the two of you were done, it was three a.m. and you both had to be at work in mere hours.

The two of you fell into an exhausted sleep on your bed. You didn’t even have the energy to be affronted by the fact that you were sharing a bed with him. The next morning, before he left to go home and get ready for work, he downloaded the security camera app onto your phone and showed you how to use it.

You went to work, checking your phone surreptitiously to see if Jake was outside of your house. So far, he hadn’t reappeared.

>Today’s Friday, You texted him. >I know you’re probably tired after last night, but do you want to have a date today?

>What about a home date at my house? He replied. >I’ll cook dinner and everything. I don’t want you to be at your house at the moment.

>I can’t argue with that, You said in return. >Sounds good to me. What are you cooking?

>I was thinking a kefta meatball tagine with couscous on the side, and a snake pastry for dessert.

>That sounds amazing. Thanks for putting me up. I know this all is a huge inconvenience, and I really appreciate it.

>It’s no problem,” He said. >It’s what I’m getting paid for, right?

You sighed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he was getting paid for. How much would an overnight stay cost you?

He sent you a message with his address and you went home after work to shower and pack a small overnight bag. You snickered, pulling out your pretty underwear and a sexy negligee, wondering if you should pack this, too, before putting it away and just throwing some pajamas in your bag.

Checking the cameras before stepping outside, you left the house and hurried to your car, heading to Bashir’s house. His place was a two-story, bungalow style house with a dark brown cliffstone brick pattern and a detached garage. It was charming, and a lot cuter than your tiny yellow ranch-style house. The yard was well kept and three were full flowerbeds next to the wide porch. You wouldn’t have imagined he lived in a place like this.

You knocked on the door and he answered it quickly, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and pair of tight jeans. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His clothes left very little to the imagination. His hair was also down and cascaded down his back and shoulders.

“Come in, come in,” He said, taking your bag for you.

“Thanks,” You said. “Your house is really pretty.”

“Oh, thanks!” He said. “It was actually condemned when I bought it. I basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. I’m not quite finished with it yet, but I’m happy with the progress.”

“You should be, it’s amazing,” You said. “I’d never have guessed it was a fixer-upper.”

He grinned at you, showing off his sharp teeth. “Come on, dinner will be ready soon.”

“It smells great,” You said, inhaling the savory smell of lamb and vegetables.

“All my mom’s recipes,” He replied, heading into the kitchen. “She owns a restaurant three towns over.”

“I’ll have to go and visit it sometime,” You said.

“Maybe I’ll take you myself one day,” He said, smiling as he stirred the couscous. Your heart fluttered a little.

How long were you going to have to keep this up? “Dating” Bashir was fun, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Either Jake would give up or get arrested, so either way, it would be over. Maybe you could stay friends. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed hanging out with him. But still… why was he talking about things that might happen in the future if there was no future for the two of you?

Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert, and afterward the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie. He even put his arm around you, since the window was uncovered and anyone could look in, he said, and you felt comfortable enough to relax into his side. It almost did feel like a real home date.

After the movie, though, you both decided to sleep, since you were still tired from the night before. You decided that you were both adults and could share a bed without it being awkward, and besides, his bed was huge and could fit five of you easily. You both fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime during the night, you got a ping from the motion detector on your phone, but when you checked the security system, it was just a raccoon in your trashcan. You sighed and put your phone down, rolling over.

Bashir was on his back, asleep, with his face turned toward you. He was breathing deeply and relaxed with one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach.

You couldn’t help but stare. He really was an attractive guy, and if circumstances had been different, you might have dated him for real. But… until Jake left you alone, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. Bashir didn’t have any emotional connection to you, so Jake couldn’t affect whatever “relationship” you had.

But maybe things could be different after? You weren’t sure. He hadn’t expressed any interest in you other than what he had to to make the job believable. He hadn’t been flirty or more affectionate than he needed to be. You couldn’t afford to develop feelings for Bashir, not right now.

Even still, you brushed your fingers gently against the skin of his arm, feeling the hairs that covered it, and followed the curve up to his hand, allowing yours to rest on top of his for a moment or two before retracting it and trying to fall asleep again, sighing heavily.

The next morning, Bashir recommended that the two of you spend the day together, to keep up the weekend stay appearance.

“How much is this ‘weekend getaway’ going to cost me?” You asked dubiously.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, today’s a freebie, since I suggested it. You still have to pay for last night, though. The normal fifty bucks is fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” You hummed flatly, fishing the money out of your wallet and handing it to him. “Well, what do you want to do?”

“Ah, it’s a freebie day, right? You get to choose this time.”

You smiled. “Well, let’s start with breakfast. I’ll cook it. I can cook breakfast blindfolded.”

“If you like,” He said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen and watching you putter around, looking for cooking tools.

After breakfast, you decided you wanted to go to the local botanical garden, which you hadn’t been to in some time.

“Your flowerbeds outside reminded me of this place,” You told him, walking slowly through the rows of Japanese maples. There was a beautiful and an extremely rare Chinese Red Maple behind a gate at the end of the row, the centerpiece of the garden. “Did you plant them yourself?”

“Yep,” He said with a smile. “I helped my dad do a lot of gardening when he was still alive. He had a landscaping business, but he was really passionate about it. I actually inherited the business. Gardening helps me keep his memory alive.”

“That’s really sweet,” You said, smiling softly. “Is that what you do for a living, the landscaping job? I’ve never actually asked what you do for work.”

“No, actually. I mean, I own the company, but I don’t work for it. My actual job is something else entirely.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me.” Before you could ask, he took you by the hand and said, “Let’s take a break and get a coffee. I have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” You said, letting the subject drop. For now.

You got to the food court outside of the botanical gardens and sat down at the outdoor cafe.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He said, putting some money down on the table. “Can you order me a large black coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said. He smiled and headed off. You got up and put in your order, then sat back down at the table and opened the security app, looking through the cameras and checked to see if anything was out of place.

The chair opposite to you was pulled out and he sat back down while you were still looking at your phone.

“The coffee should be out soon,” You said.

“I didn’t order coffee,” A voice said. It wasn’t Bashir.

You jerked your head up and saw Jake sitting across from you. You stood up so fast that you knocked the chair over.

“Get away from me, Jake,” You said.

“Look, just talk to me,” He said, standing up and advancing on you. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Get away from me!” You shouted. “Bashir!”

“Are you calling for that monster?” He sneered. “You could do so much better than him. Besides, you’re not even really dating him, you’re just paying him to keep you company, you slut. You think I wouldn’t figure that out?”

“Fuck you!” You back up. “Bashir!”

Jake was snatched back and slammed down onto the cafe table. Bashir had him pinned down with a single hand. It wasn’t hard to do: Bashir was almost twice the size of Jake in height and weight.

“Let me go!” Jake said, struggling against Bashir’s iron grip. “I’ll have you arrested! My brother’s a cop!”

“Ah, that explains how you got her address so quick,” Bashir said. “I don’t really care if your brother’s a cop. Actually, I think I do, I think an internal affairs investigation is warranted. Regardless, you’ve just violated a restraining order.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Bashir snorted. “I’m FBI, dickless.”

You gaped at him.

“Bullshit!” Jake said. “I’ll fucking sue you! I’ll ruin your fucking life!”

“Whatever you want, you’re still under arrest,” Bashir said, pulling out a set of handcuffs from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re kidding,” You said slowly, staring at Bashir.

“I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me,” He said, grinning at you sheepishly. He jerked his head at his jacket. “My ID is in my pocket.”

You reached in and fished it out, opening the leather fold to reveal a… rather official looking ID and badge.

You laughed in disbelief. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

The police arrived to detain Jake and took him to the station. Bashir drove you to the station, as well, so that you could make a statement.

Later, Bashir drove you back to your house.

“I’ll bring your bag over later,” He said. “He’ll probably get ninety days in jail for violating the restraining order, and hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Although, if you hear from him again once he gets out, let me know, and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” You said. “Really, thank you for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” He said, handing it to you. Inside was all the money you had given him for the dates, plus some. There had to have been almost two thousand dollars in there.

“But this is…”

He laughed. “I’m a federal official, you know. I can’t take bribes. I’d get fired.”

“This wasn’t…” You started, but stopped yourself. This could absolutely be seen as a bribe. “What do I do with all this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Go on a trip. Buy something nice. It’s your money, after all.”

You sighed a little sadly. “I guess this is it, then.”

He sighed, too. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward, bent down, and kissed you on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Jake did end up getting three months in jail, which made you feel a lot better. You were worried that he would come after you, but the three months passed and when he was released, he moved clear across the country and you never heard from him again.

Finally free of him, you thought you might try actually dating again, but you could only think of Bashir. You and he had only spoken a few times, mostly him checking on you, but you hadn’t seen each other since Jake’s arrest. You missed him, but you couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have any feelings for you, anyway. If he did, wouldn’t he have asked you out after Jake was out of the picture?

Even still, you wanted to see him again. So once Jake was gone, you texted Bashir.

>I have something for you, You told him.

>Oh? What’s that?

>I want to give it to you in person. Would it be okay to come over this weekend?

>I’m free now. Why don’t you stop by?

>Okay. I’ll be there soon.

Before leaving, you hesitated and decided to throw on your best, sexiest underwear. Just in case.

You arrived at his house to find him out in the front yard. He was digging a hole in the yard with a sapling sitting in a bucket, ready for planting. There were also stones and gravel he was going to use for a decorative barrier. He stood up and waved as you drove up into the driveway.

“Hey!” He said, pulling you into a hug. Well, as well as he could, being so tall. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” You said. “What kind of tree is that?”

“A Chinese Maple,” He said. “I got inspired when we went to the botanical gardens that time. It cost a pretty penny and I had to wait for the cutting to grow, but it’s finally ready to plant.”

“That’s so cool,” You said. “Can I help?”

“Really?” He said, grinning. “Yeah, sure! There’s a pair of gloves over there on the porch. They might be a little big, but it’s better than blisters.”

You ran to retrieve them, and picked up a trowel. “Why did you decide on the maple?”

“Cause it reminds me of you,” He said, digging. “When I look out my window every day and see it, I’ll think of you.”

Your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t look at him.

It only took about an hour to dig out the hole, plant the sapling, fill the hole with soil, lay the stones, and spread the gravel. Thankfully it was a cool day and you didn’t sweat too much. The two of you caught up on what had happened in the three months since you’d seen each other. You wanted to ask if he had started dating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“It looks great,” He said, standing back and grinning. “Thanks for your help! We got it done in record time. Let’s get cleaned up and have a drink.”

“Okay,” You said. “Let me grab my purse from the car.”

“Oh, right, you had something to give me, right?”

“Yep,” You told him, grabbing your bag.

He laughed. “Sorry I side-tracked you.”

“It’s fine, I had a good time,” You said. He opened the door for you and let you go into the house before him.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up and when you looked down, you realized your toothbrush was in the holder, the one you had forgotten when you’d stayed over. You had bought a new one and figured he’d just throw it away when he found it. Why had he kept it? Why was it in the holder with his?

You went back out into the kitchen and found him shirtless, water beading down the muscles of his back, and you stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, sorry,” He said, laughing and throwing on a clean shirt. “Needed a quick wash. I felt a little grimy after the yardwork.”

“It’s okay,” You said, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Iced tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” You replied, sitting at the bar. He poured you a drink and sat at the bar opposite you.

“So, what was the thing you had for me.”

You swallowed your tea a bit too hard and reached into your purse, handing him an envelope.

“This isn’t the money, is it?” He asked, smiling.

“No, it’s not money,” You said. “Open it.”

He grinned playfully at you, but it slipped from his face when he looked inside the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets.

“Morocco?” He asked, looking up at you in surprise.

You nodded. “Those are good for a year, so make sure you get some vacation time soon,” You said, anxious.

He stared at them. “There are two.”

“Yes,” You replied. “In case you wanted to take your mom. Or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend or something.”

You kept your face as neutral as possible, but he was staring at you.

“The extra ticket is for you, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

You looked down and away. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s okay. You can take whoever you like. I just wanted you to have the trip you always dreamed of.”

He got up out of his chair, came around, and got down on his knees, so that he was face to face with you. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was firm and testing, and you responded, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I missed you,” He murmured against your lips.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” You asked him, pulling back to look at his face.

“I thought you weren’t interested in a real relationship,” He said, pulling you against him. “If I had any inclination you did, I would have asked you out on the spot.”

“I thought the same thing,” You said. “I never expected you’d actually like me.”

“I do,” He said, kissing you again and standing up. “I like you very, very much.”

He walked you into his room and lay you down on his bed, stripping your clothes off your body.

“Pretty,” He said with a grin as he came across your lacy black underwear. “Did you wear this for me?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Well, it would be a shame to take it off so soon, then, wouldn’t it?” He said, palming your breasts over the fabric of your bra. He touched your slit over your underwear, and you gasped. You lifted your leg and rubbed him through his pants, and he grunted. You felt him harden under your touch. He was… uh… large.

You pulled off his shirt and ran your nails down his chest. He moved his hand away and pressed himself against you, still clothed, grinding himself into your clit, and you moaned. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoning it, and pushed his pants down with your toes. Because of his long tusks, he couldn’t bend down to kiss you in this position, so he picked you up as if you were a doll, kissing your body. You were always a little self conscious about your weight, being a big girl, but he seemed not to notice.

He lifted you all the way up to his face, kneeling down so that you weren’t so high up, and licked the cloth covering your slit, putting your legs over his shoulders and his tusks under your body. Using just his tongue, he moved your underwear out of the way and teased your clit. His tongue was long and thick. You whimpered and rocked your hips against his tongue. He pushed it in side of you and thrust it back and forth, and you writhed in his grip.

Carefully, he pulled you down and eased you into his lap, pressing himself against your entrance. You pressed your hands against his stomach and watched him disappear slowly inside you. He couldn’t go all the way in, but once he reached the back and knew where the limit was, he pulled back out slowly and thrust in again slowly, easing you into it. He must have had a similar size problem in the past and had learned how to overcome it in these situations. You were glad for it.

He lay you on the edge of the bed and pressed your knees back, thrusting a little faster, and you reached down and touched yourself, rubbing quickly as he sped up. He pulled the cups of your bra down so that he could grasp your breasts, squeezing gently, and grunted. You held his hand there with your own, pulling up your head and sucking on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing was erratic and he watched you hungrily, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip and pricking the skin.

“I’m so close,” You moaned. “I’m going to cum.”

He nodded as if in agreement, squeezing his eyes shut. He grimaced as if in pain, but then shouted, roaring, and released inside of you. It was a torrent, spraying out of you. Another few hip thrusts and circles around your clit, you came too, your head thrown back against the bed, crying out.

He pulled out and turned his head, resting it against your stomach as his arms gripped your sides, breathing hard. After a moment, you both sat up, and you realized that his legs were covered with his own release.

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said dreamily, standing up and leading you into the bathroom. You took a shower together, helping him clean himself. He did the same for you, kneeling down and washing your body. The way he knelt in front of you combine with the way he looked at you, it almost felt like he was worshiping you. Honestly, you didn’t mind that at all.

Your underwear would have to be washed, but he said you could borrow one of his shirts, if you wanted to. Honestly, you were happy to lounge in his bed naked. He seemed happy with that, too.

“When would you like to go?” You asked him, laying on his chest and playing with his chest hair. “To Morocco, I mean?”

“Soon,” He said, entwining his fingers in your hair. “I’ll put in for vacation time as soon as I get back to the office. I don’t really take vacations, so I’m sure my colleagues will be surprised.”

You smiled and kissed his skin. “I’ll have to put in for time off, too,” You said. “Although, I only just started working there six months ago, so they may not approve it.”

“Let me know when they do and I’ll schedule for the same time,” He said.

“Sounds good to me,” He said, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking down at you. You posed a little for him and he grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of your torso and belly. “You know what I’d like to do right now, though?”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“I want to take you on a date,” He said, smiling softly. “A real one. I'll pay and everything. And I want to be able to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Deal.”

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Troll #WoW Troll #World of Warcraft Troll

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

While You Sleep

Chapter 9

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff this time! Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

(a/n: yes i really used some cliche scenes expected from a bucky fic but come on you have to, right?)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

If you thought you were scared before your first encounter with Bucky, your feelings as you got ready for this date were unbelievable.

The pressure really felt on this time.

In the anxiety of nervousness and self-doubt, you had bought a whole new outfit for this date. You stood in the mirror, checking yourself over as you adorned a lovely knee-length, flowy dress. It had little flowers decorated all over it. The fabric was soft and comfortable, easing worries just a bit more - if you felt good, all would go good, right? The entire thing was complimented by a new pair of flats. You even spent more time on your make-up, making sure everything was just right and accentuating all your features pleasantly.

The more you did, the better you felt, until you realized there was no more to do. Once your hair was laid gently over your shoulder in a cascading braid, you had to face the fact that it was almost game time. Glancing over, your clock told you Bucky would be here any minute.

Still, back at the mirror, you couldn’t help yourself from fidgeting. You tweaked your braid, fixed the invisible wrinkles on your dress, even reconsidered your lipstick color choice… But then it happened. Your phone’s ringtone sang throughout your room, giving you a jumpscare. You had to take a deep breath before crossing the space and answering the call. Bucky’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hi, Bucky,” you said.

“Hi, doll,” Bucky responded, a little sing-songy tone in his voice. His cheeriness was practically contagious through the phone. Your heart fluttered. “I’m outside whenever you’re ready.”

“O-Okay,” you sputtered out, letting out a cough to cover it but it didn’t work well as Bucky let out a light chuckle at your nerves. You chose to ignore it and continued, “I’ll be down in a second.”

“Alright,” he said. “See you soon.” The line disconnected. You sighed, gripping your phone probably too tightly. Closing your eyes, you inhaled then exhaled, centering yourself, letting your pounding heart come down.

One last look in the mirror and you realized that it was game time. There were no more preparations you could make. Your soulmate was waiting downstairs and off you went to get swept away.

Bucky wasn’t the only thing that greeted you when you exited the apartment building. He was standing by a taxi, one arm leaning against it like it was the world's most romantic chariot. A smile broke out on your lips as you approached him.

“Good evening.”

Bucky gave a nod, “Good evening.”

He kept staring at you, taking you in fully and shamelessly. You blushed under his focused eyes and quickly looked away. Motioning towards the taxi, you said, “Is this our ride for the night?”

Now he was smiling as well. “Just to get us there.”

You hummed, interested. “Where is ‘there?’”

“Gotta get in the taxi and find out, sweetheart,” Bucky said with a proud smirk as he opened the door. He extended his arm out dramatically, motioning for you to slide in. You mumbled a shy thank you, still feeling your blushing was out of control and got comfy in the cab.

Once Bucky was also settled in, he leaned in very close to the driver and whispered the destination. You pretended not to notice but had to admit, he sure was sticking to the whole surprise thing. It made you feel quite giddy inside knowing he was going through all this just to surprise you. To give you a (hopefully) nice date.

Once the taxi driver understood the address, Bucky leaned back and the drive began. You stared out the window, watching your neighborhood pass by, as you tried to ignore Bucky still staring at you. It was like he was really focused on you like he was searching for something. It made you feel all kinds of warmth under your dress.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky finally said, breaking the backseat silence. Your heart that was once pounding suddenly was going a million miles an hour. Uncontrollably, you whipped your head to look at Bucky. You met his eyes which were looking at you with such wonder and longing. Oh yeah, it was getting warm in this taxi, you thought.

“Thank you,” you said, shyly. You still didn’t understand where this nervous, antsy of you was coming from. You had been around him plenty of times, even had a bit of a fight that night in your fucking apartment, but now this was what you were scared of? A date? You had to shake your head to literally shake off the nerves, something that was becoming a habit of you now.

Eventually, you forced yourself to add on to the conversation, “You look great, as well.” And that certainly was the truth. Bucky had cleaned up nicely. His hair was slicked back casually. He wore a soft sweater and black slacks. The outfit was paired with dress shoes. The entire look just felt… Classic but in the best way. In a way that was Bucky at heart.

You two fell into silence again but it was more comfortable, like Bucky’s words had hidden messages telling you to calm down. This was just another date, as couples do, and you two had been through crazy stuff - cough, cough… the fucking apartment showdown. Well, maybe that was a bit dramatic, you thought, but it sure felt hostile in the moment.

Moments later, the taxi stopped outside some… dance hall? You peered up at the sign, quizzically. You had no idea these places even existed anymore. This was already turning out to be the most unique you had ever been on but it wasn’t like you had been on many.

You were about to get out when Bucky stopped you. Confused, you watched him run around the front of the taxi and stop at your door. He opened it for you, as any gentleman would. He offered you his hand and helped you out. After paying for the cab, he came back to join you, offering his arm for you to take.

“Dancing?” You asked as you two walked towards the entrance. “You’re taking me dancing?”

There was a faint blush creeping up on Bucky’s neck. “I am,” he said. “Back in the day, when I wanted to woo a girl I took her dancing. I hope that’s okay with you.”

You giggled, “Yeah, it’s...” Your words abruptly stopped as you were suddenly hit with the realization: you didn’t fucking know how to dance. Even in your own time period, you couldn’t be thrown out anywhere expecting to bust some moves. Your feet stopped moving before you could enter the hall.

Bucky turned to you, concerned. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

You wouldn’t look at him and instead looked past him, through the clear doors of the dance hall, watching the couples spin and twirl about. “I don’t know how to dance.”

Bucky waved a hand in dismissal and continued walking. “There’s no need to worry, doll,” he said as he opened the door for you. “You can follow my lead and you’ll be just fine, okay? I’ve got you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Bucky placed a hand on your lower back, leading you around the hall. The music was loud, more on the big band side, though. You saw up-close now as the couples flung each other around, laughing in awe at one another. There was a bar off at one end where patrons moved around it with beverages. The place was fairly crowded as well, something you didn’t really peg Bucky for being enthusiastic about, but his face lit the second you two walked in. There was something like a sense of familiarity in his eyes.

You didn’t comment on it, though, and instead took his arm again, letting him guide you to the bar first. You were silently thankful, hoping a nice drink would loosen you up - at least, enough to actually get you on the dance floor.

Bucky ordered for you two which you actually appreciated. Part of you enjoyed seeing him take charge like this. Plan the date, open your door, order a drink you might like… The care of it all made your heart sing.

Retrieving the drinks, he handed you one. You thanked him as you took the drink and looked it over. The drink was something dark poured over ice. An orange peel and cherry bobbed in the liquid, next to the ice. You sipped it, letting the taste of whiskey and orange essence hit your tastebuds.

“It’s lovely,” you said and took another sip. For as nice as it was, you weren’t exactly well versed in cocktails. “What is it?”

“An old fashioned,” Bucky answered as he took his own sip of the drink, letting himself lean in closer to you as you two stood at the bar. He still watched you with a curious intensity that made your skin all kinds of heated. “I-I’m glad you like it.”

A silence fell over you two once more as you sipped your drink and let your gaze wander back to the dancing pairs. They moved so majestically and vibrantly across the hardwood floor. Engrossed with one another, trusting as they spun about. You had to admit, it did look quite fun.

“Up for a bit of a dance after this, doll?” Bucky drawled, a hint at what sounded like a little Brooklyn accent peaked out, making you grin. He must’ve been absolutely transported back in time and you were so thankful you could be there with him.

You took a drink, probably more than you should’ve in one gulp, and said, “Maybe if this drink kicks in soon I’ll let you show me a few moves.” You smiled to yourself. “That is, assuming you still have moves.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at you as he stared at you above his glass. “Excuse me?”

You giggled, “Well, you’ve got a few years in you. Just want to make sure you can show a gal a good time.”

Bucky scoffed and then, without any other warning, he grabbed your drink from your hands. Slamming both the glasses on the bar counter, he gripped your hand in his and dragged you out to the floor. You shuffled to keep up, giggling loudly at the fire you had sparked within him. It was amazing what a little banter could do to him. Once he picked an area, the band began playing a new song and Bucky fell into the rhythm quickly.

You stared, a bit stunned watching him move. But Bucky wouldn’t let you just stand there for long. Getting into the beat, he grabbed both your hands and began instructing you on the steps. Thankfully, it wasn’t as serious as you thought it would be. This was just a dance hall, after all. Everyone was too caught up in their own lovers to pay attention to others. You watched his feet intensely, as you kicked and stomped, feeling a bit clunky but Bucky, you glanced at him every now and then, was watching you with a hint of pride in his eyes.

Suddenly, he decided to get daring and spun you out, quickly pulling you back into his arms. You let out a laugh, enjoying the spontaneous move of it all and reveling in the feeling of his arms around you. Following that, you fell back into the rhythm. As you got more confident, you could actually look at Bucky better and saw he looked just as pleased and excited as you were. You felt you two had melted into the crowd well despite you feeling like a sore thumb.

The twirling was probably your favorite and you were very pleased with your dress choice. As he moved you, it would flare just slightly around your thighs, making you feel like fabric just drifting in the wind. Bucky seemed to like it as well as his hands felt like they made a point to never leave your body, always prying and begging for you close.

Eventually, after a couple of upbeat songs, the music turned down, now on the more slow side. Bucky, however, seemed very prepared for this as he pulled you into his body without a second thought. His hand landed on your lower waist, your front pressed to him securely. His metal hand was entangled with yours, lifted away from your bodies, as you two moved in a small circle.

You and Bucky finally really locked eyes for what felt like really the first time in the entire dancing sequence. His eyes looked at you so softly, so in total awe. Maybe there was even a hint of admiration just lurking, you noted. You felt yourself blushing intensely, but then again, when weren’t you like that around Bucky?

Bucky eventually spoke. “You were a natural, sweetheart.”

You shrugged, a small smile on your lips. “I think I just had a really awesome teacher.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grinned. “He must’ve been great. Taught you some nice moves.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “he’s the absolute best. Really good-looking as well. That’s a nice bonus.”

“You’re making me blush, doll.”

“Good. That’s how I get all the time around you. It’s time you had a taste of your own medicine.”

Bucky threw his head back, letting out a loud laugh. “Really, honey?” His eyes met yours again. You jumped at the new pet name. It felt so much more...domestic. “I make you blush? Make you feel a bit warm?” His tone got lower as it was just above a whisper. A shiver ran up your spine.

You bit your lip, contemplating how far this was going to go. “You make me feel many things, Bucky. Good things.”

His grin had turned to a full teasing smile now. He didn’t respond, though, just nodded with a mischievous expression now coming across his features. You were going to ask what he was thinking about when the music stopped and the band announced they would be taking a break. It sounded like Bucky let out a sigh of relief as he promptly took your hand and began leading you off the dance floor.

“You hungry, doll?” He asked, stopping next to the exit, hands in his pocket now, looking all casual. But the casualness was a nice cover, you thought, as his expression held everything but unsuspecting.

You hummed. “I could go for something.”

He nodded, still smiling. “I planned to cook you dinner. Is that alright?”

You gasped, “I get to go to your apartment now?”

He laughed as he took your hand again, now leading you out of the dance hall. You two began making your way down the street, hands gripped tightly together.

“You will get to see my apartment but fair warning, it’s nothing special.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, like mine was a real looker.”

“At least yours looks lived in.”

You looked up at Bucky quickly, mouth open now as if you wanted to say something but you didn’t really know what. He wouldn’t look back at you now and instead just kept leading you to presumably his apartment building. You turned your sights back on the sidewalk, watching the cars and people rush around in the nighttime landscape of the city, as you let Bucky guide you.

It was a fairly nice area he lived in, an estimated taxi ride away from you. The area was really bustling with people now and there were shops and eateries galore to browse. You glanced in the windows as you passed, watching others mingle about and eat their dinners.

Eventually, Bucky stopped in front of a building and pulled open the door. He let you in first, still ever so the gentlemen despite you not knowing where the hell you were going. Neither of you dwelled on this though as Bucky took your hand again and led you to his apartment. You felt yourself getting antsy the closer you got but you didn’t understand why. As much as you wanted your flirting to get you a little bit somewhere, this was dinner. A nice lovely dinner with your soulmate. One that he planned to cook. (Could he actually cook, though? You debated this as you went.)

Bucky unlocked the door and let you in. Sadly, he wasn’t too far off from the comment about it not looking lived in. There wasn’t… much of anything. There were the essentials - kitchen, couch, stools, television - but nothing that screamed Bucky. Or that he even actually stepped foot in here.

But you weren't about to say any of this. You lingered by the kitchen counter. “It’s cozy.”

Bucky chuckled, “Thanks for trying, doll.”

You frowned. “I-I mean it. It’s nice. Clean and… and formal.” Well, you thought, what could you expect from a former soldier?

Bucky raised his eyebrows, though, not buying it.

“Alright,” you sighed, “it could use maybe some personal touches but your space is your space. Who am I to judge when mine looks like it's falling apart?”

“Yours has personality,” Bucky shrugged as he slowly took steps towards you. You were leaning against the counter now, arms crossed watching him approach.

“That means it's a trainwreck.”

He smirked, “It means it fits you and I like you, so, naturally, I’m going to like your apartment.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “You like me?” You asked and winced at your words. Apparently, you were having a hard time growing out of this silly schoolgirl crushing phase.

Bucky nodded, now pretty close, staring you down. One hand came to rest on the counter beside you, slightly trapping you in. “I do like you.”

You couldn’t get over how close he was now. Even during your slow dance, you don’t think he was like… this. Towering, confident. Your eyes flicked to his inviting lips quickly before returning back to his eyes. They held amusement and… Was that a hint of amorousness in them? Your pulse was racing.

“Enough to make me dinner?” You let out a breathy chuckle, trying your hand at humor to figure out what was going on here. You didn’t mean to be practically dismissing these advancements but you also couldn’t believe they were happening. You thought it was just some sweet back and forth in the dance hall, a possible side effect of the adrenaline from dancing getting to you two. But, no. This fact was simple. Bucky wanted you.

“You know,” he sighed, “I don’t think I’m really hungry.”

“Oh?”

“At least not for dinner.”

You were barely able to let out a gasp at his confirmation before Bucky’s lips were on yours, hot and heavy.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #mcu #mcu fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers #soulmate au #fluff #writing*#the winter soldier #fanfic #fanfiction

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lunaastoir · 3 years

Text

cute things i think the genshin characters would do

characters included: diluc, kaeya, venti, and albedo

****minor lore spoilers for diluc!****

an: i’m thinking of making this into a series bc this was such an adorable concept to write so lmk if you’re interested 👀 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

diluc

sorry kind of starting off with something a little sad

i think diluc would have a habit of rubbing his vision

ok seems kinda dumb at first but let me elaborate:

after the death of his father, diluc was quite obviously devastated

he basically withdrew into himself after letting all the grief, pain, and rage flood his senses

i think during this time of grieving, he would’ve developed this habit of running the pads of his fingers across his vision to calm himself down

(v similar to katara from atla)

since his father had always been proud of diluc’s vision, the thought of touching something that reminded him of his father has always been able to bring him some sort of relief no matter how short lived

it serves as a constant memory of his dad and i think being able to have that kind of connection - no matter how small would hold a significance to him

stressed? you’ll see his fingers dance across his vision as the crease between his eyebrows gradually loosens

ok here’s a bonus habit (bc the previous one was sad)

whenever he’s bartending at angel’s share, he always flips the bottles in this cool bartending way before pouring the drinks

like the whole shabang - flips in the air, shakes it in a way that the drink foams just right

people are usually v surprised when they see this bc woah mans has got some sKILLS

but also bc he’s known for being pretty serious and reserved so seeing a “trick” is kind of breaking the stoic image they have of him

after he’s done pouring the drinks he’s also really precise about closing the bottles

he makes sure that the caps are on tightly and that nothing is leaking (which ig is another reason why he does flips with them so he can make sure that the bottles are tightly closed)

yes he’s rich but he also wants to make sure the drinks don’t go bad bc 1) kind of a loss if they do and 2) his customers deserve the best

sweet man pls protect him <3

kaeya

when he’s sitting down at his desk, he brings his legs up so he can sit on his chair criss- cross applesauce

since he’s in his office and the only other person who’s in there with him is jean, he feels like he can drop the suave, charming cavalry captain facade he puts on when he’s in public and just dial it down slightly to who he really is in that moment

jean doesn’t say a word the entire time even tho she quite obviously notices

don’t get me wrong, he’s still the smooth talking kaeya but just,,, more relaxed and comfortable?? if that makes sense

so since he’s a lot more comfortable in his office, he usually folds his legs into his chair bc damn they hurt from walking around all day

this is kinda dumb but i also think he has a lot of ink stains on his hands from writing so whenever he sees a fresh one he just likes to stamp it onto a piece of paper

usually that piece of paper ends up being an unimportant report that goes to jean

dw he also has a bunch of pretty small towels in his bottom drawer that he uses to wipe his hands on bc the public can’t see the pretty cavalry captain w ink stains!! the world would end!!

oH kind of a side note but i also think he would keep a small folded up picture of something klee drew him in his pocket

he thinks it’s very sweet and he periodically takes it out just to look at it soft for this man

last one for kaeya but since he wears boots that have the little lip on the bottom (not really a heel but enough to make some noise) he makes sure to always try his best to walk quietly around the streets of mondstadt at night

if anyone catches him doing it he’ll wave it off and say something like “oh me? i’m just practicing my stealth - it comes in handy when you have to sneak up on enemies you know?” but in reality that’s just bs

he really just doesn’t wanna risk waking people up <3

venti

this adorable man is obviously notorious for drinking

he loves alcohol!! i mean he’s the anemo archon of the city of wine and freedom so is anyone really surprised 💀

anyways venti always jokes abt not having any mora (he really doesn’t he’s not wrong) but he always makes sure to pay his tab at angel’s share

the only reason diluc lets him drink sm is because at the end of the day, venti always comes through w the mora

he really is a talented bard so everything he makes in singing and composing music for other people to listen to always goes straight to angel’s share (debatable if that’s for the best or not but i’ll leave that one to you)

so yeah <3 basically venti pays back his tabs even tho he’s an archon since he doesn’t want people to experience a loss bc of him

it’s the archon nature coming out but also the venti nature bc he’s a sweet boy

anyways getting onto the actual habit 🕺

he has a tendency to skip/hop regardless of wherever he’s going

he uses his anemo elemental skill a lot while doing this just he can feel a light breeze whenever he skips around

i also think he carries around extra bard strings in his hat bc he thinks it’s a cool party trick to take them out and be like tada i have extra strings no need to worry!!!

people are usually not that amused but he does it anyway

also yeah uh those strings sometimes fall out when he’s skipping 💀

he’ll be hopping and suddenly bOOM they fall out, he loses them, a kitten by the name of prince takes them, and he has to ask for help to find his strings (i believe this is exactly how venti lost his strings to prince during the windblume festival and no i will not take any criticism and if venti says something different he is lying 🔪)

also has a habit of putting his hair into a bun sometimes!!!

he loves his pigtails but he finds that he gets bored of them occasionally and his hair needs a break from its wavy tresses so he just plops it into a bun instead

so so cute 10/10 hairstyle he can do my hair

anyways love this man thanks for coming home <3

albedo

i had a feeling i would kind of have a hard time w albedo since he is a little hard to read so i hope this is ok LMFAO

he has paint stains. everywhere. no you cannot change my mind.

they are subtle tho i will give him that

you can’t notice that anything is amiss until you really pay attention and then you’ll start to see the pretty pastels and greens of the sunset he was painting up on dragonspine softly smeared across his clothes

very rarely you’ll see a cute swipe of paint across his cheek or neck and it’s honestly adorable

he was probably pushing his hair out of his face while he was painting and some excess paint on his finger landed on his cheek :,)

he doesn’t really care tbh he thinks it’s just a part of him and it really isn’t that noticeable so he just leaves it

also!!! since he is a big alchemist and he’s constantly working on labs and experiments i think he would accidentally misplace a lot of his written work

he seems very organized but w someone as intellectual as him w his brain running miles a minute, i’m sure he has definitely forgotten where he’s put stuff away

so!! in order to help him remember, he has little notes across his lab detailing where everything is

if he was working on something and he immediately has to put it on hold bc something came up (klee came in demanding attention or sucrose needs help) then he’ll quickly jot down a note and stick it to his desk so he’ll remember when he comes back just in case he forgets

sucrose as a result has noticed A LOT of notes across the lab and it’s simultaneously funny and endearing

“started experiment with sweet flowers to try and turn them into a youth elixir: papers --> on the desk right next to klee’s photo”

final point: he lets klee braid his hair sometimes if she wants to

she doesn’t really know how given how young she is so she ends up messing up but albedo always walks her patiently through the steps again

always makes time for klee no matter what bc he really does care a lot abt her :,)

i love him sm pls

#diluc #kaeya #venti #albedo #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin venti #genshin albedo #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich

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stucky-starnes · 3 years

Text

Gleam and Glow

Chapter 1

Pairing: Grey! Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3,374

Description: The reader has been held captive by their own mother their whole life, taught to believe the world is bad and that they need to be protected from it. That their gift needs to be protected from it. They possess 70 feet of hair with healing properties and some people will do anything for a chance at peace.

General Warnings: This story contains dark elements and various dark characters!! Do not read if this makes you uncomfortable!!!, kidnapping, violence, language, angst, whump, for the purposes of the story the reader has 70ft foot long hair that glows gold- this does not change regardless of hair color or texture, inspired by the movie Tangled.

Chapter Warnings: kidnapping, manhandling, betrayal, mention of trafficking (selling/buying of a human), John Walker, very naive reader, brief sexual implications,arguments, un-gendered pet names,choking, illusion to sexual harassment, language, please read at your own discretion.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK, REBLOGS ARE WELCOME AND APPRECIATED

A majority of your childhood was peaceful. You got to do all the normal kid things- of course you were never totally sure what a ‘normal’ kid thing was on account of the fact that you’d actually never met another kid but, it felt normal enough. Aside from the very abnormal ‘birth defect’ you were ‘gifted’ with. You stopped considering your magical abilities as a gift by the time you were seventeen, when your mother made it abundantly clear that you could never leave the tower, you could never go outside, and you could never cut your hair.

The only thing more annoying than the seventy foot long tresses was your mother. According to her, your father was a sloppy one night stand she found in a tavern. He was a love em’ and leave em’ type of guy; he gave your mother one great romantic night and then disappeared off the face of the earth. You’ve never met him. You’ve never met anybody. Your mother has always been your only companion. She was a beautiful woman, she said you take after her more than your dad. While she was gorgeous and protective, she was also passive aggressive, rash, and ostentatious. If it was possible for her to get out of being “the bad guy” she lunged, dragging you under at the first chance. When you were younger she would tell you stories about the outside, she made it seem like a gorgeous place. She described the kingdom and the many villages outside its walls. She started with all the good things until you showed interest in escaping, then, she gave you the truth. She began to spin tales of roads rich with crime, vigilante gangs, covert groups of thugs, and rebel Viking camps. From what you could piece together, the rebel Viking camps were the greatest concern.

The rebel Viking groups weren’t actually Vikings. Your mother had said they called them The Vikings because of their rugged and brutal lifestyle. The camp they occupy is more like a small village, the structures following Norse architectural style, chalk-full of criminals and runaways. Runaways. Your mother had always explained to you that when young girls ran away from their mothers they ended up in that village living a life of crime. The very thought of falling into the wrong hands has kept you from sneaking out or from begging to leave the tower. You found ways to be content, ways to keep busy.

The tower wasn’t as big as it looked from the outside, the only living space was at the very top of the tower. The top of the tower had about two floors worth of open space, minimal and organized in the lower level and very maximalist in the bedrooms and wall decor. Mother said the rest of the tower below was sturdy white brick and vine, aged by time and the weather. Most of the exterior bricks were cracked or crumbling, so all the support for the turret came from the tower’s solid core. The roof was a chipped and rusty blue color mostly concealed by untamed ivy growth, which also hid the entrance to the tower’s turret. To your home. The only way in and out of the tower was an intricate pulley system made from twisted vine and rope. Originally, mother had used your hair to get into the turret, until one day a strand snapped from the pressure, dying and losing its magic. In an effort to protect your gift, you helped your mother make the pulley.

Crafting things was just one of the many ways you spent your time in the tower. After you’d turned eighteen your mother didn’t stick around much, if at all, leaving at night to go to the palace or the tavern, sometimes coming back in the morning and sometimes being gone for a day or two. With so much time alone the only option was to learn how to entertain yourself. Reading books, cooking, painting, testing the information you soaked up from all of the books, sewing holes in clothes, polishing leather, polishing silver, dusting, drawing in the dust. It’s a really long list. If there’s more to add you add it, forever stretching the possibilities. As the sun started to go down however, it started to seep in just how repetitive and predictable your daily activities had become. While you knew leaving the tower would be a horrible and dangerous mistake, you couldn’t help but long to be outside. To feel the grass between your fingers or to stand out in the sun, somewhere other than where it leaks through the turrets window entrance. It could never happen. Knowing this was an impossibility kept an icy grip on your stomach, a lonely sort of feeling, naturally touch starved by fate. It’s been years since the last time you asked to leave. Much before you knew how dangerous it really was out there. Asking one more time couldn’t really hurt could it? You’d be twenty soon enough, just one touch wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Mother had left early in the morning, off to do some much needed grocery shopping; if she hadn’t decided to stop by the tavern she would be home very soon. Too soon to come up with a better plan. Quickly you started to prepare for her to come home, sweeping the dining area and pulling out the utensils needed to make a special stew recipe you remember she had enjoyed. If she was going to say yes she needed to be buttered up first. Once the cooking utensils were nicely organized on or beside the unlit stove, and the dust was done away with, it was time to make quick work of anything she could use against your argument. Rushing to one of your most treasured bookshelves you pulled a discarded velvet scrap from the back of one of your more worn astronomy books. The midnight blue fabric had been torn from one of your favorite dresses when you were sixteen, unwilling to part with the shredded material, it was quickly fashioned into a long braided bookmark. Since then you’ve opted for shorter than floor length gowns or comfortable riding pants and tunics. The supposedly “masculine” style annoyed mother to no end but then again she really couldn’t understand how suffocating the corsets could become, or how difficult it was to fasten them without getting hair caught beneath the strings.

Unbraiding the bookmark allowed it to become one long thick strand, setting it on the dining table, you went to gather your hair. For the most part, you tried to keep it close to yourself. Getting any part snagged or wrapped around something was more of a pain in the ass than taking the time to gather it together. Gathering so much hair was difficult, it took time and it was unbelievably heavy. Once you were finally able to get it all in one place you started the tedious task of braiding. In order to braid it up enough to keep it off the floor you split it into three sections, braiding those separately before braiding them up into a complex Dutch braid. It took nearly two hours to finish so you could finally tie up the end with the dismantled bookmark. The complexity allowed the braid to settle halfway down your calves, keeping it neat and off the ground. Now all that was left to do was light the lanterns around the room and wait. Waiting for mother to get home was nerve wracking, if possible you’d busy yourself with starting the stew but you were fresh out of the most important ingredients.

“Y/n let down the vine!” Mother yelled from the bottom of the tower and the tension finally broke.

“Coming!” You sighed out in relief rushing to the window and lowering out the vine life you had made.

Once you were sure she was safely in the lift’s sling, you utilized the pulley system to begin pulling her up. The tower was around forty feet tall, making the trip up lengthy and difficult. When she was close enough to the window entrance you hooked the vine slack onto the wall hook, keeping it stationary, before quickly coming to help her in with the groceries. Taking the canvas grocery bags from her arms and into the kitchen, you started pulling out the items to take inventory on what she’d bought at the market.

“How was the market? Did that man give you trouble on the celery prices again?”

“Ugh doesn’t he always? Absolutely exhausting, he wanted double, and then there was a fight at the tavern again which I always have to break up.” She pulled out a chair at the dining table, sitting into it and slinging her feet up into the neighboring chair.

You slowed for a moment, pulling the bundle of carrots from the bag slower as you processed that she may be intoxicated which meant there’d be zero chance of having the conversation you desperately desired.

“You went to the tavern?” You asked, feigning excitement.

“Of course sweetheart, I promised that I would but I wasn’t there for long I promise.” She got up to meet you in the kitchen, resting her hands on your shoulders.

“Now what are we having? I’m absolutely starved.” She smiled.

“I was going to make that stew from last winter that you liked so much. Now that fall is settling in.” you started to add broth and small peeled potatoes to the pot.

“That sounds delightful darling, I’m going to go rest my eyes, call me when it’s done?” Mother started to walk away. It was now or never.

“Actually!” You cleared your throat., “Actually I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

“Alright but let’s make this quick, mama’s feet are aching.” She turned back around to sit in another chair.

“Well as you know I’m almost twenty, an adult really and I’m already very responsible around the tower-“

“Y/n where is this going?” She interrupted, rubbing her temples.

“I want to go outside.” You turned to look at her.

“We’ve talked about this! It’s far too dangerous! You know what would happen if anyone discovered your gift!”

“I know, I know, but I’ve thought about it and no one would even know! I won’t tell anyone about it, and if they don’t know I have it then they don’t know how to use it, so it’s useless to them. If I just keep it braided I’ll be completely normal!” You came to sit across from her, hoping it’ll be convincing.

“No absolutely not, it’s much too risky! I have kept you safe for nearly twenty years! I am not stopping now! You’re far too young to understand but this is what’s best for you!” She got up and started to walk away again.

“But it’s not! I’ve never met anyone else! I’ve never had friends or met other people my own age! I’ve never even seen a real man!” You were absolutely desperate.

“Oh a man?! This is about men huh?! So you want to leave the safety of the home I built for you to go whore around for a man?!” She was absolutely furious, beyond cooling down.

“Mother no!” Your face was burning with embarrassment at the very suggestion of sexual activities.

“No truly I understand! You would rather leave this place and be used by men! Drained of your power in one of those Viking camps no doubt! I won’t hear another word, I’m going out for air and your attitude better be gone by the time I get back!” She walked over to the vine, untying it from the wall and setting it into a rustier pulley wheel that would let her down slowly, she was gone just as soon as she’d finished her sentence.

You had no choice but to sit in utter silence and shame. Swallowed by guilt that mother could ever consider you’d do that to her. As much as you wanted to leave and experience the real world, you desperately didn’t want to disappoint your mother or end up somewhere bad. Very quickly you dissolved into regret, backing over to try and undo what’s already been done, planning a way to forgiveness. Finishing the stew was the only way you knew how to start so you got to work, making this the best stew you could ever devise. Having never written the recipe down you had to go solely based on flavor and gut feeling. That was the best way to cook anyway. Once it had been spiced to taste you put the lid on the pot to let it simmer.

Almost immediately you found yourself overrun with anxiety, filled with a need to do something with your hands. To occupy your mind. There really wasn’t much to do in the tower to occupy you enough to erase this from the forefront of your mind. So you opted for the only thing that you could: cleaning. Your started polishing, dusting anything that you could and when there was nothing left you sat and you waited. The silence was absolutely deafening. You’d totally zoned out until you heard the rattling of the pot lid on the stove, snapping your head to it only to see the stew boiling over.

“Shit!” You rushed to turn it off, burning your hand in the process as you cleaned up the mess. Suddenly you were no longer hungry.

Opting to leave the stew on the stove for whenever mother would return you left the kitchen, going to your room as you cradled your hand gently. Tears stung your eyes, threatening to drip through your lashes and you curled up on your bed. Reaching for your braid with your uninsured hand, you gently took the end and rested it over your burned palm, reaching to wipe away some loose tears. Whether the tears were from the pain or from emotional discourse you couldn’t be sure. After drying your tears you closed your injured fingers around the large amount of hair, and began to hum a soft familiar melody. As the melody continued your hair began to glow a brilliant gold, almost glittery in color. Once the shimmer reached your palm, the heat faded and the wound healed. You were able to breathe. You looked to your palm, it was as soft and unharmed as it had been that morning. As it had always been. No scars or leftover pain. Just smooth healthy skin.

You couldn’t be bothered to really prepare for bed. The dress you wore was moveable, the corset easily undone as it tied in the front rather than in the back. Laying back you took a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily to let go of all the stress that you could. After a minute of peace you pushed yourself up and off the bed, walking over to the dark wood armoire, opening it to look in the mirror, you sighed looking at your dress. There was stew on the navy skirt and what looked like a sizable carrot. You’d have to change to sleep. Lifting the skirt up closer you plucked off the carrot and disposed of it in the nearby waste basket. Returning to the armoire you flipped your braid back over your shoulder and checked the white sleeves of the off the shoulder blouse, slid your hands over the black corset, grabbing the tied strings from the vertex of the sweetheart neckline you untied the knot. Just as you’d finished untying the security knot you heard a loud grinding bang from the lower level. Pausing to listen you grew concerned.

“Mother? Are you alright?” You called gently.

When you didn’t receive a response you dropped the corset strings and left your bedroom, looking over the bannister you were met with the worst sight you could possibly have imagined. A large piece of the stone floor was broken and pushed out of the ground, slid off to the side and two large men climbed out of the dark hole below. Half a million questions filled your head. How was there a space under the floor? How did these men find you? Did they know who you were? There wasn’t time to think, you had to act. Silently and quickly you snuck back into your bedroom, burning out the lamps and climbing into the armoire as best as you could. Tilting your chin up to silence your breathing you listened. Waiting. Thinking. The men were much bigger than you thought a man would be. From what you could make out they dressed in dark clothing. Leather. Worn and hardly taken care of if at all. They were similar heights. One a redhead and the other blonde, both with rugged facial hair. You only had a brief look and the adrenaline pumping through your veins was making it difficult to focus.

“I am never doing that shit again, forty feet of crumbling bricks and thirty feet of rope, you seriously didn’t think that through?!” You could hear them arguing.

“It didn’t look that tall alright? Can we just find the chick and get out of here? I lost my good boots in a poker game with trash panda and if I don’t win them back he’s gonna tear them apart.”

It was clear they were coming for you. The only thing you could do was hope mother came home or that they didn’t see you behind all the other clothing in the armoire. The stairs creeped. Once. Twice. There was only one creaky step. They were both coming up. You held your breath.

“Food on the stove and the lamp in here is still warm. She was here recently.” They made it into your bedroom.

“If I had to guess I’d say she’s still here.” The footsteps stopped. It was silent.

Suddenly, the hem of your skirt was yanked-it had been caught in the door-and then the armoire burst open. The blonde man grabbed your arm as you struggled, ripping you from the small dark space and out into the open. He spun you around, pressing your back to his chest, his left forearm braced across your neckline and gripped your right shoulder. His right hand held a sharp silver blade to your heart.

“Well, well, well, Princess did we catch you at a bad time? These corset strings are so very loose for company.” The blonde man taunted, using the tip of his blade to pull on the cords.

You gripped this forearm, pushing back closer to his chest in an effort to get away from his blade as you struggled.

“P-please just leave me alone, I won’t tell any-anyone.” You stuttered, trying to stay calm the way your mother had taught you.

“We have plans for you, this hair of yours… hear there’s some people willing to pay a pretty penny for just a touch.” The red headed man stroked your braid, you jerked your head away.

“Oh oh oh” the blonde man laughed. “She’s a feisty one, are you sure we have to deliver her so soon? Could be fun…”

“Oh c’mon man don’t be gross he wants her unharmed. Mostly. C’mon just cloth her so we can go. Boots remember??” The red head said, grabbing your wrists and tying them together roughly. He took the dagger from the blonde, continuing to hold it in its position as the blond reached into his pocket.

“No no no no no please please I’ll give you anything you want just leave me alone!” You begged, swerving your head away from the blondes clothed hand as it moved towards your mouth.

“Bitch stop fussing around!” He slid his left forearm up to your throat, both choking you and effectively stabilizing your head long enough to clamp the cloth over your mouth and nose.

It hardly took thirty seconds before your vision started to swim and your vision started to fade to black.

“We’re already late. He’s waiting.” One of the men said as he slipped a cloth bag over your head. Your hearing went out, senses dulled as you gave in the the dark.

#marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #reader insert #x reader #bucky x reader series #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #grey!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Gleam and Glow #bucky Barnes tangled au!#tangled au!#marvel au

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

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Fic: Love Languages

Headcanon suggested by a lovely anon, which spawned into a fic. Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

Words of affirmation

Receiving compliments or words of encouragement are not uncommon for Namaari. She has gone through life aiming to be the best at everything she does – the best leader, the best warrior, the best Princess – and along with her success come compliments on her fighting techniques, her decision-making skills, and even her ability to look formidable in her formal attire.

As royalty, people lavish her with praises when they see an opportunity to get into her good graces, despite the obvious lack of sincerity behind their words, and it tires her to deal with fawning citizens. She loves her people, but she’d rather they’d love her back truly; false words mean nothing.

Chief Virana does not give out compliments easily, and is often faster to critique than to encourage. Namaari pretends her mother’s approval is nothing more than something important to receive from her Chief, but in reality, she craves hearing soft words such as ‘well done, Morning Mist’, whenever she is lucky enough to have them bestowed upon her.

As she grows up, she decides that sweet words are nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary – nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement is needed, before one can place it aside and move on to more important things. And then Raya comes back into her life.

Raya, who can flirt endlessly with elaborate innuendos until Namaari rolls her eyes at her ridiculousness. Raya, who is quite happy to press herself closer than absolutely necessary in their sparring sessions, just to set out some unspoken physical challenge.

And yet, when it comes to providing a genuine compliment, Raya practically freezes.

‘I like…like your hair,’ she mumbles one day to Namaari, glancing off to the side in order to avoid making eye contact. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, even though earlier in the day she had made a lewd comment about a sword which didn’t even have her blinking.

For some reason, Raya’s lack of suaveness when it comes to providing true compliments delights Namaari, and she hoards each instance close to her heart, happy in the knowledge that every word spoken was genuine in its meaning.

In return, she starts to gift Raya with compliments of her own.

For Raya is not used to receiving compliments, at least not in a long time. Her Ba used to provide encouragement and compliments often, but that was many years ago, and now he hesitates to put them into words sometimes, unsure of how this new dynamic works when he’s looking at a grown-up daughter rather than a small child.

Namaari has no difficulty in sharing them though.

‘You look very beautiful today,’ she tells Raya softly one evening, when they are having dinner. Raya stammers out some incomprehensible response, and spends the rest of the meal staring down at her bowl, occasionally darting her eyes over to Namaari.

‘I love that hairstyle on you,’ Namaari says to her a few days later, watching as Raya braids her hair back with expert precision.

‘Umm…thanks?’ Raya squeaks.

‘Your techniques were excellent today,’ Namaari informs her after a sparring session. This time, Raya just nods, and clears her throat before trying to awkwardly change the subject. Namaari can still see the smile on her lips though.

Eventually, Raya becomes better at both giving and receiving words of affirmation. Namaari learns how true compliments can be more meaningful than expected.

It isn’t the most important aspect of their relationship, but they like to encourage each other all the same.

Acts of service

Raya sees how much of a burden Namaari perpetually takes onto her shoulders, in her duties for Fang. She is so focused on helping her people rebuild and expand, or going away on diplomatic missions to help form better relations with the other lands, that she forgets to take a moment to breath sometimes.

Raya wants to take some of her stress away, by helping her carry out some of her duties or at least be involved in organizing certain aspects of the expansion projects, but she discovers quickly that Namaari is somewhat of a perfectionist. It is almost more stressful for her to find herself out of the loop or uninformed about decisions, than it would be to allow her undertake the duties in the first place, and so Raya finds it more helpful to just back off from the work unless asked to provide support.

It’s also a way for Namaari to feel as if she is atoning for her past actions. Raya wishes she wouldn’t feel the need to do so, but it is something they’ve argued about before, and they always end up stuck in a perpetual loop.

One of the ways Raya can help however, is with her cooking.

Namaari is an awful cook (something Raya unfortunately discovers herself with one ill-fated meal), but she is fascinated by watching Raya conjure something up in the kitchen.

Gone are the days of living off jackfruit jerky; with so many fresh and interesting ingredients at her disposal, and with the occasional reminders from Ba when she is unsure about something, Raya makes a whole array of different foods over the months.

It’s one of the best ways of getting Namaari to relax, Raya finds. Every mealtime when Raya is behind the pot, Namaari will abandon whatever work she is doing, and will sit and watch Raya finish making the dishes. They’ll always eat it together, and for a short while, Raya can feel the stress lift free from Namaari as she laughs over Raya’s words and enjoys good food.

Gifts

The first gift Namaari ever gave Raya has almost become a symbol for their entire complicated history. It represents new friendship, betrayal, and after so many years…forgiveness and a fresh start.

Namaari gives it back to her not long after the return of Kumandra, before she can second-guess herself.

‘It was a gift,’ she says, half-expecting it to be thrown back in her face. But Raya runs her finger gently over the surface of the dragon pendant, and then sends her a small smile. The next day, Namaari sees it hanging around her neck once more.

Once they start dating properly, Namaari can’t get it out of her mind how much the gift seemed to mean to Raya, both times.

‘She still doesn’t have that many personal belongings,’ Namaari informs Sisu, as an explanation as to why she was forcing the dragon to accompany her around endless market stalls in Talon, looking for the perfect gift for Raya. ‘I figure it’s because she was on the move so much in life, she couldn’t carry a lot.’

Sisu makes an ‘mmm’ sound, clearly not buying her reasoning completely, but allows the topic to drop when she’s distracted by shiny objects at the next stall.

Namaari finds a small knife that can be strapped to a wrist and slipped up the sleeve. She knows how much Raya prefers to be carrying at least one weapon with her at all times, and this would be perfect for diplomatic meetings – subtle, and easy to hide. And indeed, Raya wears it continuously after receiving it as a gift.

On another visit to another market, this time in Spine, Namaari spies a comb with a beautifully carved handle.

‘For your hair,’ she says in an attempt to be casual, thrusting it awkwardly in Raya’s direction that evening. Raya loves it, and it is indeed used every night before bed to comb out her braids.

Every time Namaari has to travel on diplomatic missions, she now ensures that she brings back something small for Raya.

‘I love the gifts,’ Raya tells her one day. ‘But I love even more how it shows you’re thinking of me when you’re away.’

One evening, as they are getting ready for bed, a small golden ring drops out of Namaari’s pocket by mistake.

‘Is…is that my old hair band?’ Raya asks, peering over the side of the bed as Namaari scoops it up in a hurry. ‘I thought I’d lost that years ago.’

‘I found it,’ Namaari says defensively, clutching it tight in her fist. ‘I guess…I never asked you if you wanted it back?’

Raya shakes her head with a smile, but the following evening, she steps up behind Namaari, sliding her hand into her pocket. Namaari watches as she pulls out the hair band and threads it onto a small gold chain.

From then on, they both wear a gift from the other around their necks.

Physical touch

Sometimes, everything can become overwhelming, the past traumas so great that it seems suffocating. And in that darkness, sometimes the gentle touch of another is the only thing keeping the world grounded.

Raya goes six long years without receiving a hug. At the time, she doesn’t see it as a big deal – she’s grown up fast, and learnt that the world isn’t the welcoming place her father once hoped it could be. Even moreso, her Ba was the last one to hug her, and she doesn’t mind keeping it that way.

Now though, she finds comfort in the small touches. It’s in the featherlight way Namaari’s nose brushes against her neck as they curl up together in bed, waiting for the morning sun to rise. It’s in the gentle trail of Namaari’s fingers across her back, as they stand talking to others, and Namaari absentmindedly reaches out for her. It’s in the soft kiss against her temple, when Namaari has to go back to work after lunch.

Occasionally, she will need to be encompassed by that comfort, and in this moment, she will go and find Namaari, stepping closer until her forehead rests on her shoulder. No matter what she was previously doing, Namaari will pause everything, wrapping her arms tightly around Raya, and they stand there until Raya can feel as if she can breathe again.

Namaari has a habit of falling too far into her own mind sometimes. She is an outwardly composed and pragmatic individual, but internally, all sorts of doubts and guilt still plague her, and there are days where she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t doing enough in her life to atone for her past, or that she is a fraud who has no right in stepping up and trying to lead her people when her previous actions cost them so much.

It’s difficult for her to ask for help in these moments. Raya learns instead to notice the signs of a bad day, or whenever Namaari gets trapped into a downwards spiral, and she will take Namaari by the hands and sit them somewhere quiet.

There they can actually talk, and sometimes Namaari feels comfortable enough to share her fears. But the most important thing, Raya finds, is to slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight and peppering her cheek and bare shoulder with small kisses.

Raya refuses to let her go until she sees at least one small smile.

Quality time

In the early days of the relationship, there is still so much separation between the two of them. Raya is in Heart, helping her Ba welcome back everyone to their lands, fixing up the buildings, ensuring the harvest gets started…There are so many jobs to do, and Raya knows Namaari is undergoing the same issues back in Fang, coupled with an expansion of their kingdom.

On top of all of this, there are endless council meetings and diplomatic missions, so if it isn’t Namaari being busy with politics, it is Raya, much to her annoyance.

Whenever they do get to spend time together, they ensure no minute is wasted. They have meals together, and spar together, and find all sorts of random ways to entertain themselves. Namaari loves to go out in the evenings and watch the night sky, attempting to teach the constellations to Raya; but Raya decides that these constellations are ridiculous, and so they create their own. Raya meanwhile loves to go for hikes in the woods, dragging Namaari along to discover new plants and wildlife, and occasionally climbing the trees.

They both love to sit in bed next to each other, quietly reading their books, or discussing their day. Sometimes, Raya will lie sideways on the bed, her stomach across Namaari’s legs and her arms hanging over the edge, so she can carve pieces of wood into intricate shapes, with Namaari reads out loud for the both of them.

Even after several years, and living together permanently, Raya finds herself reflecting on the fact that she never gets bored as long as she’s with Namaari.

They are currently lying in a field somewhere in the depths of Heart land, enjoying the sun shining onto their faces and the grass tickling their skin. She lazily wiggles her hand until it makes contact with Namaari.

‘Dep la?’ Raya whispers, and Namaari grunts in response. ‘You don’t get bored with me, right?’

Namaari merely shuffles closer without even opening an eye, resting her cheek against Raya’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she mumbles, and she’s curled up so close that Raya can feel the vibrations of her voice on her skin.

‘Didn’t think so,’ Raya says in satisfaction. They continue to enjoy the peace.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #raya and namaari #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari fic #rayamaari #this was supposed to be a headcanon #but it all was just like 'hello must get out of the brain'#some fluff to keep you guys happy #while i work on the concept au angst

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candychronicles · 3 years

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bodyguard // s. todoroki

A/N: my take on the rockstar/band/performer au for bnharem! i’m not a big fan of au’s normally but this one was a lot of fun to write! todoroki is definitely ooc in this one but i took a lot of liberties with his character in order to better fit the au storyline.

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,091

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, gore, fighting, death, oral sex (f!receiving)

SYNOPSIS: you were in it for the money, he was an unhinged popstar. how could you two ever possibly get along?

want to read more rocking stories? click HERE !

the days at work were tiring, the nights even longer, but the pay was good and it was always satisfying to make a grown man cry as you knocked him to his knees and manhandled him away from your client.

Todoroki Shouto, one of the elite, the famed, the rich, and absolutely fucking annoying. sure, he was hot (anyone with an eye could see that) but he was just like everyone else in his industry: a cocky bastard. you didn’t mind his lifestyle too much except when it interfered with his job, like having to pry off whiny people who clung to him like their life depended on it, and for some, it probably did.

his biggest claim to fame was being in a now wildly famous band, namely the main singer. he was charming with a sultry voice and a personality that oozed confidence but he wasn’t always that way. in fact, he was originally a shy, anxiety ridden teen when he first joined, not sure how to use his voice or deal with people coming up to him in the streets. the life he lived was sheltered before that, training under his dad to take over the family business, but when sweet, innocent Todoroki confessed that he much rather be artsy and sing at the age of sixteen, things quickly changed for him. his father, Todoroki Enji, tried to convince him otherwise, told him that he didn’t know how the real world worked and that he would never be successful, but Shouto wouldn’t budge and eventually Enji caved in, or so it seemed.

Enji immediately enrolled Shouto in lessons, instructing him to shape up or ship out. if he couldn’t become successful in the industry, he would take over his father’s business instead, but that didn’t happen. Shouto excelled in lessons, blowing his instructors away with his timbre and control. he was a natural, and frankly, good enough to be a star. they weren’t so concerned with his stoic yet endearing personality. they had broken enough pop stars, molded them to be perfect model citizens, so what was one more?

the plan backfired immensely. as Shouto’s talent grew, Enji seeked out the biggest in the game, convincing them to give his son a chance at stardom. while reluctant, the board agreed, not wanting to piss off one of the most powerful men in Japan but were thoroughly surprised at the fact that his kid didn’t suck at all. in fact, he was actually good, really, really good.

they signed him immediately, whisking him away into the life of fame and fortune at the young age of seventeen. his range, the slight rasp to his tone and the ability to reach into somebody's soul and pluck the very feelings they try to hide so deeply from it’s depths pushed him towards the life of a rockstar. the freedom he had never been able to experience living at home pushed him over the edge and spiraled him out of control.

Todoroki drank, smoked, and fucked his way through cities big and small, getting himself into a lot of trouble along the way. the behavior went on for years, only getting worse as time went on. nobody seemed to be able to get control over the boy with the pretty hair and wild scar. after almost killing several women and one of his bandmates in a drunk driving accident, his team, label, and most importantly his father had enough.

the conversation between the two did not go well. Shouto was now an adult, legally free and clear from his father’s power. he had his own money, enough to live comfortably for awhile, even if he dropped the band, and all of the repressed rage, longing and anger that was pent up from his childhood. he was not stopping his lifestyle for anyone. that was, until you came along.

you were always a scrapper, getting yourself in trouble more times than you could count. it was just in your nature to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves and you spent many days on the playground beating up the bullies who picked on the sweet girl braiding flowers into her hair, or the boy who liked to play with baby dolls instead of trucks.

as you got older, your fights got fewer and farther in between, at least when it came to the public.

when you turned sixteen and kicked some kid who was trying to look up your skirt so hard in the chin that he saw stars, you were approached by a few men who slid you a card and told you if you wanted to make money fighting, come meet them.

you were a dumb kid and instead of running in the opposite direction and telling the police, you showed up at the seemingly dingy door behind the alley of a fairly run down ramen restaurant. knocking on the door and rocking back on your heels, you waited to see what would happen. it took a few seconds before a panel slid open, allowing you to see nothing but someone’s eyes peering at you in the mid-afternoon sun. hesitantly, you raised the business card in your hand, showing it to the person and jumping in surprise as the panel slammed shut and the door creaked open, inviting you in.

you nodded your head politely at who you realized was a rather bulky, burly man, before a woman dressed in a silky black dress plucked the card delicately from your hand and led you through the hallway. when she opened the door, you were taken aback by the scene.

people of all shapes and sizes stood cheering as two rather muscular men fought in an arena across the room. spit and blood flew across the floor as the two pummeled each other over and over again before one tapped out, the other man raising his fist in the air in victory. you stood, gaze fixed on the scene in front of you, blood racing at the thought of you being in the ring.

“addicting, isn’t it?” the woman whispered in your ear, a knowing smile on her face before she gently took you by the sleeve and guided you away from the screams and shouts into a private room that was much quieter.

you sat down in front of a man who was rather tall and thin, graying hair across his head and a clean shaven face.

“so, i heard you’re a good fighter. how good do you think you are?”

“uh-” you stuttered, not sure how to respond, “i think i can kick someone’s ass if i have a reason to.”

“is money a good enough reason for you?”

“money is a nice reward, yeah, yeah it is,” you confirmed, not pondering the question over for a second.

“good, you start on Saturday. come in comfy clothes that you won’t mind getting sweaty and dirty in. you’re my new ace, a secret weapon. give it six months time and you’ll be defeating guys like that out there in seconds.”

and defeat you did. over and over again, men, women, anyone who thought they were better than you were defeated by your own fists. you worked hard and then some, through literal sweat, blood and tears, to reach the status of champion of the underworld by the age of eighteen.

you were a wild card, unpredictable in your stature. you didn’t have hulking muscles and a sturdy frame, but what you did have was speed, the element of surprise, and the ability to calculate in a split second, all of which allowed you to defeat your enemies time and time again. this relative victory didn’t come without your share of sacrifices: hiding the bruises, blackened eyes and bloody lips from your family as you trained relentlessly, having to figure out a way to manage the steady flow of income that started coming your way as you fought in your first official matches, defeat after defeat as you trained, chipping a tooth and having it promptly filled in like nothing happened, having to learn how to disarm and fire a gun, work with knives and most importantly, losing a bit of your empathy along the way.

it came as no surprise when people who were much more powerful and much, much richer started taking an interest in you, placing large bets upon your head at some of the higher staked matches, a feat you worked your way up to after many years. you never failed to disappoint, knowing that these fights were the ones that mattered the most, the ones that brought you, and your boss, the biggest pools of money.

it was at one of these fights on a dreary, rainy night that you met Todoroki Enji, a hulking man that failed to intimidate you. you were used to people his size and bigger thinking he could take advantage of someone like you and it only made you chuckle thinking of how easy it would be to have him on his knees in seconds.

“i’ve made a proposal to your boss that he couldn’t refuse. he said he couldn’t and wouldn’t force you to do anything, but since you’re quite motivated by money, i think you’ll be intrigued by my offer,” he started, sitting down next to you in one of the VIP booths, sliding his business card on the table with a sly smile.

you were interested and entertained him, listening to him ramble about his shitty kid and his bad behavior. amused, you sipped on your drink as you absorbed his rants and whines about the negative reputation his kid was creating for himself, how he abused his freedom and power to the fullest extent and how his life was spiraling out of control.

“what does this have to do with me, exactly?” you finally questioned, setting your drink down and turning to face him, eyes met squarely with his own.

“i’d like to hire you to be his personal bodyguard.”

“sounds like he needs a babysitter, not a bodyguard,” you retorted, getting ready to stand up and move away from this blathering idiot.

when he spit out a number so outrageous, however, you sat back down, now thoroughly intrigued by the situation at hand. satisfied that he had your full attention, he went into details, laying down a fairly thin stack of papers in front of you as you listened to every detail.

“so let me get this straight. i’m to be his personal bodyguard, keep his shitty behavior a little more under control, whip him up into shape sort of situation. that’s it? and i’ll get paid that much for being a glorified babysitter?”

“you will have to protect him, of course. there are some crazy fans out there that climb windows, seduce themselves into his bed, stalk him, chase him down, but i don’t think it’s anything that, with your expertise, you can’t handle.”

you continued to ponder the situation before gesturing him to continue with his story. he rambled for another moment or two before picking up the papers and going over them with you: standard non-disclosure agreements, a detailed list of your job description and a contract agreement that he was subleasing you through your boss.

after a few minutes of reading the contracts over and discussing them with your boss, you agreed to the scenario, locking yourself into what would be a rather entertaining six months.

the first time you met Todoroki, he instantly tried to hit on you, but when his hand lowered down to grab your ass, you had him on his knees with his left hand behind his back before he could even blink. after that encounter, your conversations were curt. he knew what you were here for and he wasn’t about to let you get his way.

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be so relaxed about the whole situation. he still drank, still partied, fucked almost whatever girl or guy he wanted, but anytime things got too out of hand, you stepped in, firm but gentle, guiding the crying groupies out of his bedroom after their time was over, driving him every time he got too drunk, cutting him off from any supplies when he was getting out of hand and most importantly, keeping him safe during his travels.

he never realized how much danger he was always in until you mitigated the problems with ease. he just assumed that being assaulted on the daily was something that came with being in the public until you broke some robbers finger when they tried to swipe the wallet out of his own back pocket. after that, he almost clung to you like a koala on a tree anytime he was out in public. you provided stability in a time where he was drowning in his own worries.

that didn’t mean he was ever nice to you though. in reality, he was actually sometimes meaner to you, the simple fact that some girl could be stronger than him set him off, always feeling on edge around you. you weren’t necessarily quiet, offering up any and all small bits and pieces about yourself that he ever wanted to know, but he never really knew you: not your last name, where you were from, if you had any siblings, parents, where you went to school, what your job was, who you were on the inside. it bugged him like crazy to know what your favorite color was and that you liked cheese on your ramen but not anything important, anything he wanted to know.

you liked to keep it that way, however, and would stay as friendly yet aloof as possible. this was a job to you, a job that would set you up easy for awhile and gave you a break from fighting for the most part. you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you liked the man more than you would’ve expected. you felt the way he clung to you as fans swarmed him, the way he always looked to you in reassurance as you walked the streets at night, hearing his sobs in the shower, sobs that were so broken and confused. it showed to you a side of him that was vulnerable, that showed emotion.

he broke down towards the end of your stay, realizing a little too late how much easier it was for you to do your job when he was cooperative and nice. in fact, he began to be more open about enjoying your company and spending time with you. it made it harder for you to continue with your job knowing you were falling for the pretty rich boy, for the man you were hired to protect, for the man who looked at you like you could do no wrong but vehemently would deny it. you began enjoying the little moments with him, the stolen glances, the laughing. you didn’t know what changed in him but you were glad he was someone you could get along with. underneath that crazy exterior, he was just a guy who wanted a friend.

your six months came up relatively quickly. it sucked that your cushy job living in five star hotels, eating decadent meals and working out in state of the art facilities would be over soon but you felt yourself getting lazy, weak and losing your rather sharp edge. it was time to get back into the grind and despite your heart panging at the fact that you would leave the pretty boy with the angry and sad heart behind, you were ready to go.

your last night of work consisted of the final show in Tokyo. tens of thousands of guests were set to attend what would be the bands biggest concert ever. you were calm, cool and collected as always, but the singer, not so much.

he spent the day pacing back and forth, warming up his vocals, hydrating himself, stretching and generally doing his best to calm his nerves.

in a rare act of affection, you reached out to grab your hand with his own, looking him dead in the eye and telling him that this night would be one he would remember forever; and you were right, just not for the way either of you thought.

the show went amazing, the crowd loud and receptive, the choreography flawless, the singing perfect. Todoroki ran off stage with the biggest smile he had ever seen and in his own rare display of affection, twirled you around with ease, adrenaline still pumping through his system.

you congratulated him on the great show and waited patiently for him to remove all the makeup and his costume. he emerged a little while later, hair flat against his head, wet from the shower, sweatpants and an inconspicuous gray hoodie donning his body. you bid a pleasant farewell to his bandmates before escorting him back to the car. he had requested that you drive him back to the hotel and spend one final night in the comfortable hotel beds before you headed back to your hometown.

when you arrived, however, things felt quiet, a little too quiet, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

“Shouto, you need to get into the driver’s seat right now, turn on the car and lock it. do not let me in until i tell you to. do not get out of the car, okay?”

he began to question you but before he had a chance to argue, you were pushing him out of the way as a knife sliced towards him, figures cloaked in black emerging from the shadows.

one, two, three, four.

you counted out the four assailants as you shoved Shouto against the car, prompting him to unlock and scramble in through the back seat. only when you heard the click of the lock did you breathe a sigh of relief and begin your attack.

the first man with the knife was tall and lanky, using his height to his advantage, trying to overwhelm you, but with a quick kick to the back of his kneecaps, he went tumbling onto his knees. now shorter than you, you were able to control him by grabbing onto the top of his head and slamming it into the ground, effectively knocking him out.

one, two, three.

the next man thought his muscles would save the day, but his size lacked any true speed, and you were able to land fingers to his eyes, a punch square to his nose. a quick chokehold and he was knocked out against the concrete as well.

one, two.

they both came at once, knives flailing in the air as they sliced your way. one managed to gouge out a chunk of flesh in your arm but you paid no mind, too focused on the task at hand as you grabbed the knife with your hand and used the other arm to knock into their elbow, making them loosen their grip enough to let go of the blade that you then embedded into their shoulder. the other assailant took your distraction to swing the knife your way and as you were trying to dodge the serrated edge, used their other fist to swing up into your chin. you felt your teeth chatter against each other, blood mixing with saliva as you bit your tongue. spitting, you slammed your hand down against their wrist, grabbing the knife with your hand and yanking, not caring that it sliced into your palm as you flipped the weapon around to shove it into their abdomen.

with both men distracted, you slammed your fist against the car door, telling Shouto to quickly unlock it so you could get in. when you heard the telltale click, you instantly dove into the backseat, yelling at him to lock it and drive as fast as he could back to the hotel. he did as he was told with an eerie calmness to him, backing out and around the attackers that were attempting to survey the damage that had been dealt to them.

once you had made the relatively quick trip back to the hotel, you hurriedly jumped out of the car, telling Shouto to carry his own bags so you could be on alert if anything were to happen, scanning each and every corner for a possible other attack. thankfully, everything was safe as you made your way into his hotel room.

you dropped him off quietly, not even attempting to walk into his room, but only fifteen minutes had passed before he was knocking on your door, a first aid kit he had gotten from the front desk securely tucked under his arm.

you let him in without a word, locking the door behind you and turning to face him. before you had a chance to ask what he was doing there, he had dragged you into your rather grandiose bathroom, sitting you on the steps leading up to the jacuzzi tub and pulling out the contents of the kit onto the floor.

he began by assessing the damage to your wounds, cleaning and disinfecting them before wrapping both your hand and arm rather efficiently.

“i had to wrap a lot of my own wounds as well as my siblings. dear old dad let the temper get the best of him sometimes and it wasn’t always so pretty,” he explained, teeth clenching together in an attempt to remain calm.

“thanks for this. i’m sure they’ll heal just fine,” you replied, not wanting to put him in a situation where he had to talk about his troubling past.

“you could’ve died protecting me today, you know?”

“that’s my job Todoroki. i was hired to protect you, i protected you, and i’m fine, thank you very much. this is not my first fight and it definitely won’t be my last.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat down on the marble floor in front of you, holding your wounded hand in his own, tracing the fabric that surrounded your palm.

“i recognized one of the cars in the parking lot. it was a company car, one of my dad’s cars to be precise. i know they can seem relatively inconspicuous but i memorized every car my dad ever had, big or small. it was definitely his car.”

you mulled over his words for a moment before sighing yourself, slumping against the stairs as your head rested against the rim of the tub.

“your dad sent those men, huh? that’s why you were so eerily calm driving away. you knew you weren’t really in any danger, that those men were secretly there to kill me,” you finally concluded, anger boiling deep within the pit of your stomach.

“yeah, i think they were. i don’t think dad is too fond of the fact that you and i got close. i-i like you a lot more than i let on, i’ve told him so. i thought that would make him happy, knowing i have someone in my life that i could rely on and trust, but he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t control you after these six months were up, think he wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“wouldn’t be the first time i’ve had a hit out on my head. this one, however, is probably going to be a lot tricker to deal with.”

Shouto sunk deeper into himself, body shaking with rage as he saw the fight flash in his head over and over again.

“i’m going to protect you. if you want to, that is. i’ll sign you on as my own bodyguard, however much money you want. i’ll be by your side always, make sure that nobody tries to kill you, tries to hurt you like that again.”

“i can fend for myself Todoroki.”

“it’s Shouto. and why won’t you let anyone else take care of you? listen, i know i’ve been kind of an ass but i thought we were at least friends, and yet i know nothing about you. i know your favorite color, your favorite animal, that you like sunsets and the rain and snuggling under comfy sheets at the end of the day, that your eyes sparkle when you get a chance to fight but secretly crave peace and comfort, but i don’t know who you are. your name, your story, why you’re really here.”

you heaved as you sat back up, staring him straight in the eye to find no malice, no anger, only confusion, empathy and maybe even a bit of longing. so you told him, you told him everything: who you were, what you were, where you grew up, about your childhood dog and all the scraps you had as a kid, how two strange men in suits approached you and groomed you to fight at the age of sixteen, how it was the only thing you knew how to do, the only thing you were good at, how you scared yourself sometimes because you enjoyed the pain that came with the fights. he sat there watching, eyes wide and unblinking as he absorbed every word you said, every bit of pain and anxiety, of longing for someone to love and understand you, of not having to fight all the time, of wanting to be vulnerable for once.

“let me take care of you,” he declared, standing up and outstretching his hand towards you, helping you up from the cool tile, hand coming to rest behind your head once you had steadied yourself.

he leaned forward, unsure and hesitant, before placing his lips against your own, soft and gentle, tasting of mint chapstick and coffee. you were unsure of yourself, awkward, full of aches and pains, wanting so badly to let go but never wanting to get hurt.

“it’s okay, you’re safe with me. let me take care of you, please.”

that was all it took for you to open up, looping your arms around his neck as he led you back to the bedroom, careful to not run you into anything. your knees hit the back of the bed and you reflexively tensed up, like a deer in headlights.

he shushed you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, heeding the bandage and wound underneath. you laid back after that, body attempting to relax as his hands ran themselves soothingly over your body, across your breasts, the flesh of your stomach, your thighs, the corded muscles in your calves, slipping your shoes off, your socks, kissing every inch of your body along the way, making sure you were comfortable. you shimmied out of your pants, your tight shirt, bra, underwear, finally bare for him to see, scars, bruises, all the imperfections of your life.

“so, so beautiful,” he murmured, taking his time to kiss every single blemish and scar that you had, wanting you to feel his dedication.

after what felt like hours of soft kisses, his thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing in quick and precise circles, fingers gently parting your folds to press into your body, back arching at the feeling of him already.

“it’s all about you tonight, okay? just relax, let me show you how much i appreciate you.”

and appreciate you he did. he dropped to his knees, nose nuzzling into your pubic bone as he kitten licked your clit once, twice, three times, testing your reaction. you whined and squirmed at the feeling, already overwhelmed by his fingers lazily dragging in and out of you. you wanted, needed more, but Todoroki wouldn’t hear any of that. you deserved to be treated right, treated gently tonight, to allow your worries to melt away, if only for a few moments.

his fingers began picking up pace, pistoning in and out of you, his fingers curling in all the right spots, fists clenched into the downy comforter as you attempted to ground yourself from the overwhelming situation. his tongue worked against your clit, changing speed and pressure, trying to find what was the right combination to set you off, watching your every move intently as you squirmed around on the bed. before he even got a chance to get into a routine, you were already cumming over his fingers, creamy liquid coating the digits.

he hummed in contentment, pulling his fingers out to lick up the syrup, you watching with your pupils blown wide.

you went to sit up, body aching from the adrenaline of the fight, but he pushed you back down into the plush bed, tutting as he settled his head against your thigh, kissing, sucking and biting along the plump flesh, leaving little marks only he would know about.

his tongue began lapping at your clit again, this time harsher, more in tune with what your body wanted. you clenched your legs around his head, fisting his hair with your good hand as you tried to ground yourself yet again to reality. his velvety tongue felt like heaven against your body, coaxing moans and sighs out of your mouth. you felt your second orgasm hit you like a freight truck, tingles running up your spine. you tried to push his head away but he only held your body down, a frighteningly feral look on his face as he continued to lap against your clit, unrelenting in his pursuit to pull orgasm after orgasm from you.

after, two, three, four more highs, you couldn’t tell where one began and one ended, he was finally satisfied, pulling his face away, chin glistening in the dim light. your eyes were teary and red, overwhelmed by everything he had put you through. you had never been more satisfied in your life, and by the look on Shouto’s face, he knew it too.

your eyelids began to droop and your body relaxed into the mattress as you came back down into reality. Shouto shuffled around the room before settling you into your bed, tucking the sheets around your body and propping your head against your pillow.

he was enamored by your, by your story, how you opened up so willingly to him after tonight. nothing would get in between you two now. he was just starting to truly know you, know the real you, and nothing was going to stop him from wooing you until you were his, not even his father., and if her life was ever threatened again by him, well, Shouto would just have to kill Todoroki Enji.

#todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnharem collab

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caitsyoi · 3 years

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I have a lot of thoughts on the WLF and the Seraphites, which means I think I'm going to break them down into smaller posts like I have been doing with my map posts.

So, this post is going to be about the Seraphite prophet. Specifically, I collected every picture of her that I knew of in game. I've also shared my thoughts about the depictions of her and her origins. If that is your sort of shit, click below.

This is probably the most common pose you see her in, whether it is a painting (like in this post) or carved into trees. She is also almost always depicted in a simple white shirt, and her hair is always braided. In most pictures she also appears to be middle aged.

The depictions of her do vary a bit, which makes me wonder if they have any actual pictures of her. One of the core beliefs she preached was the importance of moving away from modern technology and back to nature. Did she throw away any cameras, and all the pictures of herself?

She is often portrayed leading others, with the sun behind her head or behind her raised hand. Some real Holy Spirt stuff, basically. Or maybe I just think that because I was raised catholic...

"May she guide you" is a super common Seraphite saying, usually said when people part ways. One interesting thing is you often see these words before entering a dangerous area, whether that is the sky bridge or a contested area of Seattle (more on that later, but you can see my post about the layout of Seattle here).

This is one I almost missed, located on the building between the two sky bridges. The Seraphites sure lugged a bunch of stuff up there: all that wood for the bridge/structures/ladders, rope, nails, and paint. Not to mention food, weapons, and and stuff to sleep on. In another post I'll probably talk more about Seraphite society because it is just so interesting to me.

We don't know a whole lot about her. She was a prepper before the Outbreak, but she prepped enough to feed all the survivors from her community. This is all based of a scrap of a newspaper you can find in the tunnels. I wonder just how much food she hoarded though. There are four named areas in the NW part of Seattle that formed Scar Island: Queen Anne, Magnolia, and two other areas I can't quite read. Did she have enough to feed all these suburbs, because holy crap how big was her house? Did she have a warehouse of food somewhere?

Then again, she also preached reliance on nature and not machines, and her followers were quick to listen to her because she did so much for their community. She likely pushed them all to farm, and had enough food reserves to cover them until they could get things up and running. Also, a number of people probably fled or were killed in the early stages of the outbreak, so there probably wasn't as many people to feed as you would think.

Her followers choose to stick with her in the NW part of Seattle, which lead to some tension with FEDRA. Then, after the WLF took out FEDRA, the competition over land and resources lead to the on and off war with the WLF that was going on when Ellie got to Seattle. This was about 25 years after Outbreak Day, and it's not known how long FEDRA was in power, or how long this war with the WLF was going on. At some point, flooding turned NW Seattle into an island (which probably helped fuel the belief that she was a prophet even more), and it seems like that occurred before the WLF replaced FEDRA.

My guess is that FEDRA ran the QZ for anywhere from 5 to 15 years (based on what we know from the game). All the while, the Seraphites grew in size and power. It's not known when exactly she died, but we know she was executed by the WLF at Martyr's Gate, so she died once FEDRA was out of the picture.

Now, Seraphite soldiers make a pilgrimage to Martyr's Gate, and it's an area that is won and lost in battle relatively frequently. Seraphites can leave these prayers in any of their temples, but this seems like a special place that you only bring a prayer to once. For whatever reason, they focused on this truck for their shrine. They built a wooden structure over it (they friggin love wood), and they brought a fuck ton of white flowers (this is another common thing you see with her).

Lev states that she didn't teach violence, that it wasn't included in the scripture. Perhaps this is true, the little we know of her writings make them seem like more of a self-help book ("Only when weak may I carry my true strength"), and she also probably spoke a lot about the need to live free of machines and rid the world of "demons".

Regardless, and perhaps in response to violence from FEDRA and the WLF, she did turn to fighting. I guess that could fall under self-reliance though.

In some of these paintings she definitely seems more aged, which makes me thinks that she was around for many years. Someone like Lev or Yara were probably not born or too young to remember her, but she would be in the memories of many Seraphites (there are around 1,000 of them when Ellie gets to Seattle).

An interesting thing about these paintings is that they are all found outside of Seraphite territory. Granted, we only see the southern and northeastern parts of Seraphite Island, but I don't recall seeing any from the places we do visit. Instead, on the island you tend to see a lot of carvings of her in trees (more on this later).

The Seraphite religion is one of expansion. It's necessary to branch out in order to clear the land of the demons. She probably preached about saving people too, although that seems to have been corrupted by the Elders (more on them later too). Both this and the first picture from this post were from Capitol Hill, on the way to the TV station. Definitely WLF territory. In these cases, "Feel her love" is probably more of a threat than a call to conversion.

So, what do we know about the Seraphite prophet? We know she preached that the outbreak was a punishment for our reliance on machines, and the only way to get rid of this plague is to clear the world of demons and go back to living simply. We know that she lead her community, and was martyred by Issac during their still ongoing war with the WLF. We know that much of what she taught was then corrupted by the people who took power after she died. That's why when I talk about the Seraphites next, we'll be talking about the Elders.

#If you read this whole thing you are now my people #Was her name Sera or something?#I wonder if Lev still believes #Heygaymayday wrote some ficlets about Lev in the future and I sometimes think about those #the Elders are dicks just fyi #the cults of us #the last of us 2

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misslovasstuff · 3 years

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Dazai hcs

How does he act around children/ Dazai as a parent:

isn’t very fond of kids

but kids are very fond of him

once a little girl followed him around calling him ‘Giant mummy’

at first Dazai was like ‘hehe that’s right. I’m a giant mummy.’

then he got annoyed

‘where’s your mommy sweetie?’

although he isn’t very fond of kids, deep within him you can find that Dazai is actually the one you’d probably trust your child to

he doesn’t spoil them, only if the kids’ interests are the same with his

interacting with a child, Dazai can be either very caring (holding them by their hands, patting their head and smiling to them) or annoyed and chaotic (sighing from time to time, being to lazy to keep up with the energetic kids, probably distract himself but never loosing sight of the kid)

As a parent, he’d be the overprotective one.

Although, I imagine Dazai having a daughter who’s as intelligent as him and who drives him crazy.

He’d be the sweetest dad because he would understand his child better than anyone

Dazai would be more of a listener. The kid would easily spill the tea to him.

Dazai would be the strict parent. Of course, he knows what’s the best for his kids. However, he respects the wishes and desires of his child, as long as those do not cross any of his boundaries.

Believe it or not, Dazai would be very touched whenever his child would gift him something for his birthday or draw him a portrait of their family.

Although Dazai may not appear very affectionate, he’s just taken aback from people’s reactions and his reputation.

When his kid is sleeping, Dazai would kiss their forehead and whisper kind words to them.

“You’re my whole world, little one.”

Dazai may be a lazy dad, so their kid would probably jump on his bed in order to wake him up.

Before starting their day, he would cuddle with his little one and they would start to giggle while playing around.

As I said, Dazai doesn’t like to spoil kids (he’s broke but that’s not the prime reason) but he will buy them their favorite things when they are well behaved.

Now, let’s divide things. If Dazai had a daughter, the relationship would be just adorable.

Dazai would probably force himself to learn how to braid hair or do make up. However, I headcanon that Dazai’s daughter doesn’t even need those things from his dad because she got the guts and wits to do everything herself.

They’d play chess together and Dazai would be amazed and horrified at the same time.

She’s the one who stops Dazai from drinking as much as he used to.

“I’m daddy’s girl” is what she says to the armed detective agency members when they meet her for the first time.

Fights between them are a battle of sarcastic comments.

“You didn’t tell me you had a crush on a guy?!”

The protective dad is mode whenever his daughter goes out on a date.

Would totally follow her.

What happens if a boy breaks her precious heart?

Oh boi

He’d play it cool in front of his daughter, comforting her with words, hugs and hot tea.

Then, he’d face the bastard and give him the creeps.

Everyone at his daughter’s school is afraid of her dad, but some friends do fangirl about his handsome looks which she finds very irritating.

Dazai does the shopping most of the time and he always does her favorite dish on saturdays.

All in all, a very wholesome relationship.

If he had a boy, he’d be more careful.

A boy can be easily influenced by bad company, thus Dazai is very careful.

I headcanon that Dazai’s son would be more like his mother, traits such as caring, calm, introvert and optimistic. He may not have the same intelligence as Dazai, but he has in charm and good looks.

Dazai understands that girls chase after his son and he usually tease him about him.

His son adores Kunikida for some reason. Perhaps because he was rasied by him as well.

Kunkida gave Dazai’s son the passion for books and writing.

He writes stories which Dazai reads. Every time, this proud father is amazed by his son’s ability to write.

“You should be a writer.”

His son would remind hi of Odasaku, which brings him close to tears every time he celebrated his kid’s birthdays because coincidentally, he has the same birthday as Odasaku.

Although young, his kid understands Dazai almost without effort.

“Daddy you look exhausted.”

The ability to read people easily comes from his father.

Because of the kid’s soft and introvert nature, he may be prone to bullying at school.

Dazai would not tolerate even a single word against his little boy.

He’d rather teach his son how to deal with it because he wants him to grow strong and pass difficulties by himself, or he’s straight up confront the kid’s parents.

The thing is, that Dazai’s son has an amazing voice and can easily play the piano.

Surprisingly, Dazai is a pianist himself but never found it interesting enough to pursue.

So he taught his kid how to play on his free time.

His son calls Atsushi ‘big bro’ and always seek his advice rather than Dazai’s because he’s always afraid of disappointing his dad.

Dazai notices such thing and tries to grow closer with his son, because Dazai’s the type to talk about important things not straight ahead, but within the context. And his kid is smart enough to read between the lines.

Their kids may have a very hard-to-cope ability, and having a dad that helps you with it is very helpful.

If one of them follows his footsteps into the agency, he wouldn’t stop them.

He’s train them properly and always have them into his vision rage.

Dazai can be a great dad, what he may struggle with is coping with his kid’s emotions.

He may find himself incapable of showing them that he truly loves and cares for them and that his spirit has joyous days only because of them.

In concluison, Dazai with kids is an adorable concept. I love him.

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai headcanons #dazai hcs #Dazai Osamu #dazai bungou stray dogs #dazai bsd #bungou stray dogs headcanons

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lizhly-writes · 3 years

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i do not have anything very new for you this week. i do, however, have this revised version of the first chapter of the ‘villainess’ side of my heroine-villainess isekai bodyswap story, which is, essentially, a full rewrite. i have made some changes that have brought our pov character a little more in line with my mental image of her. to quote someone that i had look at this: ‘Before mina seemed more refined like she kills u by poisoning u thru ur tea and then "ohoho"ing as u slowly lose consciousness and die, and now mina seems like she kills u by straight up ripping ur spine out lol’

i always did wonder why i never saw the ‘original’ villainess in otome isekai stories do some major physical damage for funsies, y’know?

warning: this thing is 2k+ words long.

Why’s it so fucking loud. Who’s screaming bloody murder in here? Shut up, I got the worst headache and whatever slick steaming pile of shit you think you are, you ain’t making it better. If you won’t keep that hole in your face quiet, what if I just heal it closed? You won’t get a choice then, how about that?

I’m laid out flat on the floor, too. It’s wet, there’s something soaking in my shirt and my hair. It better not be vomit. Three fucking faces of Knight, how much did I drink last night.

I crack an eye open. “Th’ fuck’s goin’ on.”

There are people with the dumbest fucking faces staring down at me. “You’re awake!” one of them exclaims, like everyone else has useless holes for eyes. Course I’m awake, that something you really feel you gotta tell the world?

“Shit, really? Wow! Never woulda guessed,” I say as I drag myself to my feet. Urgh, feels like I drank my way through the entire bar. Did I get run over by a carriage or something too? I’m real fucked up — balance off, arms and legs ain’t landing right, everything aches, and I got clothes on that look like I stole them from a crackpot fashion student.

Though, hey, looks like everyone here is dressed like that. Maybe it’s the crackpot fashion student side of campus. I’m in some really shiny cafe, by the looks of it. The aesthetic here is… really something. Didn’t know we had this kind of place at the university.

Let’s put that aside for now. I crack my neck and ignore everyone talking at me as I give the entire place a once-over. No sign of Emily or Asher, which doesn’t sound right. If I’m this messed up, normally Asher’d be right there with me. Emily, at least, would’ve tracked me down and tried to kick me in the head or something. Not that I’d need a kick in the head, it hurts bad enough as it is. Maybe enough that I can say that I’ve knocked something loose. Hearing’s definitely off, it’s doing funny things to my voice. Not liking that very much at all.

“How much is a drink ‘round here?” I say, because while alcohol got me into this, I’ve heard great things on how alcohol can get me out of this.

“I don’t think you need a drink,” says an absolute fucking killjoy from somewhere behind me.

“‘Scuse me?” I say as I do an about-face. The killjoy in question looks boring enough that I’d forget him instantly if it weren’t for the eyes. Real pretty shade of blue, nice enough that probably some asshole’s tried yanking them from his skull. It’s a wonder he still has them! Maybe he’s a good enough fight that people don’t bother, huh?

He doesn’t react when I step in for a closer look — yeah, there we go, left eye, the scars are barely there, but it looks like someone’s been using their nails to make an attempt. Honestly, you’d think he’d flinch a little with me getting that close to his face, it’s not like his glasses’ll be any good at protecting him. But no, he just stands there and says, “I think you need first aid. You might have a concussion. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re bleeding. A lot.”

…Hmm.

“Am I?” I say. I reach for the bits of me that I’d hoped hadn’t been sitting in vomit and… yeah. My fingers come away red.

Trace a little further up to the back of my head, and there’s the head wound. Not as deep as I’d think, but it’s there, along with a very long braid I don’t remember getting.

Maybe I am concussed. Should’ve noticed both of those things a lot sooner.

“Yeahhhhh, okay,” I say. “Lil later, then.” After I fix myself up, maybe.

“I think you’re actually supposed to avoid drinking after a concussion altogether,” says Absolute Fucking Killjoy.

“Fuck you,” I say. Of all things, that’s what gets him to flinch. Interesting priorities he’s got there.

About the drink, though. He ain’t wrong. I know how head wounds work. But those rules on what to do with them? That’s for other people.

“You need a doctor—”

Please. Last time I needed a doctor was years ago.

This kind of thing, it’s easy enough to take care of. So easy that it should be already healed up, but whatever. Just a little concentration, and —

And.

...What's this?

“That’s new,” I say, squinting at the crackling light running over the palm of my hand. Real fancy, real nice to look at. Doesn’t feel like much, but I bet I could make something like this hurt if I wanted to. Nice little add-on, this. I like what I got — I’m the best with what I got — but power is power. Nothing wrong with having a little extra in your punches.

Except this ain't anything I can do. This ain't anything I should be able to do. That’s pretty fucking strange, isn’t it?

“What are you doing,” says Killjoy, voice sharp.

The face he’s making is probably hilarious. It’s less interesting than the way light curls over my fingers, trailing over my wrist as I twist my hand this way and that. If I let it, maybe it’d spread further up my arm. How much higher could it go, really?

I don’t get to find out, because Killjoy snatches my hand, snapping his own fingers over it until only light you can see has to fight its way out from where skin meets skin. And then it’s not even that, dying away until it goes dark completely.

Oh this bitch.

“Well, ain’t you forward, huh?” I say, baring my teeth. “What d’you think you’re doin’?”

“You’ve got a concussion,” Killjoy reminds me, like he thinks I forgot. I ain’t forgetting nothing, got it? It’s easy to take care of — just a little thought, and maybe it’s taking a little more effort, but the skin knits up just fine.

I sweep a hand lightly over the back of my head, just to make sure everything’s in order. The swelling’s gone down, the bruising’s gone, eyesight seems pretty clear. Headache and bodyache’s still there, which is annoying. There’s been some improvement, but that’s not what I’m looking for. It should be gone. Is it not physical damage, then? What, is it psychosomatic or something? That’s a shit explanation.

It’s only after my self-checkup that I realize that Killjoy is still talking. “— can take you to the clinic,” he’s saying, sounding very earnest. He’s still holding my hand.

I shake him off impatiently. “That’s unnecessary,” I say, and push open the shiny glass doors so I can find Asher or Emily or someone and go on with my life.

I don’t get more than a few steps outside before I realize I’m running headfirst into a problem. Namely, that the outside that greets me is not the university. Not even close. Not unless the mayor sent the entire city crashing down and decided to rebuild from the ground up. Not unless everyone collectively decided to take overly-caffeinated fashion students’ advice when it came to everyday wear. Not unless somebody made far too many innovations in automobile development and decided to implement them on every vehicle I can see here. Not unless all of that happened while I was passed out.

No. I should have noticed that before, too. I don’t pass out. Alcohol fucks me up, sure. But I’ve never drunk so much that I got knocked unconscious. I’ve never been able to drink enough to knock me unconscious.

…I remember now. I didn’t go out drinking last night. No, what happened was that some asshole attacked me— or, you know, tried to attack me for maybe a solid minute before I started beating the shit out of him for daring to ambush me. I was doing quite a good job, if I do say so myself. I know I broke some bones, broke his face, had my hands around his neck, and it would have only taken me a second or so more -- just one good squeeze! -- to pulp his windpipe, and he would be dead.

But I didn’t get to that part. The last thing I remember was putting just enough pressure on his throat to make him choke, and then… nothing. That’s it. That’s all I have before I woke up in the cafe.

I’m missing something. I know I am. It’s pissing me off.

That fuckwad. What did he do? Clearly I made a mistake letting him breathe for more than a minute or so, I should’ve just killed him on sight. If I find him again — no, when I find him again — I’m going to squeeze the answers out of him and grind his skull into paste, I’m gonna make him wish he was never born, I’m gonna make sure he’s in so many fucking pieces no one can tell his —

“Hey,” says Killjoy, because I suppose he followed me out or something. “We really need to get you to a doctor. I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but even if it’s not a concussion, it’s safer to get it looked at, you know? You said you were on university insurance, right? So it’s not like it’s even going to cost —”

And then he shuts up, because I have him by the collar of his shirt and he’s suddenly bent over enough that he’s barely an inch away from my face.

“Please. Would you kindly keep your mouth closed,” I say. “If not, I’m afraid I’ll have to make you choke on your own teeth. Do I make myself clear.”

Killjoy doesn’t close his mouth. It’s hanging open gently, his pretty blue eyes wide and shocked. But I suppose he understands the spirit of what I’m asking for, because he doesn’t say anything, even when I let him go and kindly push him back upright.

Well, no, actually, there is one thing. There’s a name he whispers: Allison. But it’s so quiet that I can generously pretend I can’t hear it and let him keep his mouth in one piece. I leave him standing there, and set off.

Where? It doesn’t matter. I walk through black-paved streets and stone-slab sidewalks, speed past too-tall buildings and too-bright colors and hoping for — I don’t know. One familiar building. Something, anything, that I can recognize.

But… nothing. It’s like I’m an entirely different country. An entirely different world.

How long was I out? Am I missing memories? What did that sad excuse for an ambusher do?

As if this day couldn’t get any better, Killjoy finds me at the entrance of a tiny, cramped alleyway, shadowed by buildings rising tall around.

“You just never fuckin’ give up, do you?” I say, sharp smile sliding easily across my face. I don’t know where I am, but I know I’m a fair distance away from where I started. He can’t have just coincidentally run into me. He had to have either followed me or known where I’d end up. It doesn’t matter which. Either option means that he’s still thinking of me.

He starts when I turn around and face him — he probably didn’t expect me to figure out he was there that quickly, huh? Well, I have to give him credit, he really is quiet. And he stays quiet, too, even as he scrambles backwards when I start stalking towards him.

“You gonna tell me I need a doctor again, huh?”

Go on. Say it. I gave you a warning, I told you what I’d do to you, it’s not my fault you can’t listen. I’m looking forward to it, actually! Thank you for showing up just when I needed stress relief!

“… not Allison,” Killjoy says, so softly I barely hear it.

“Pardon?”

“You’re not Allison,” he hisses, and oh, is that a sight — his eyes are aglow, the light behind them illuminating their blue so that it shines against the darkness. How pretty. How valuable. Even more so than when I thought the only thing that stood out about them was the color. Really, how good of a fight must he be that he still has them?

I’m gonna find out.

#original fiction #my writing #isekai #otome isekai #writeblr #everything #violence #implied violence

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queenofthefullmoon · 4 years

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An exhaustive list of Dark Souls 3 bosses I would or would not date

Iudex/Champion Gundyr

We’re starting off this list with a strong yes. Our boy Gundyr has had a hard, difficult life, and he deserves some good company. He’s tall, strong, and I trust him to protect us as we set a lovely camp site outside of the fire link shrine.

Vordt of the Boreal Valley

Vordt is big and he is feral which are truly the only two qualities I look for in a man. Together we’d be unstoppable. I mean, think about how easy it would be to go around with him: just climb on his back and let the rodeo begin, baby. This argument alone should be enough to convince you that Vordt is a suitable boyfriend, but here’s another one: if you get too hot in the summer, worry fucking not for your gigantic man can hold his equally gigantic hammer over you and cover you with snow like an italian man covering his pasta with parmesan.

Cursed Rotted Greatwood

Now while I’m certain it would be a perfect partner for some people, the Cursed Rotted Greatwood isn’t for me. For one, I am not fan of curses, or rot, or weird sticky balls, or strange orange acid, or pale white and slightly viscous hands bursting through a living tree. Secondly, I feel like the crowd of Hollows who group up around the tree would be a big impediment to our intimacy, and I’m not ready to be the mother of 20 Hollows.

Crystal Sage

No offense but you’d be an idiot for not wanting to date the Crystal Sage. All wrapped up in one package, you get a super competent sorcerer bf, who wears the coolest hat in the galaxy and an equally cool cape, and who overall looks like the upgraded version of a plague doctor. In addition to that he also has a pretty rapier so you can both engage in some sparring (which we all know is the most romantic couple activity).

Deacons of the Deep

Probably one of the worst options on the list, they’re all crusty, rotting men moaning around a biggass coffin. There are many technical questions. If I dated a deacon, would I have to date all of them? Can we go out on dates or are they obligated to stay next to the coffin at all times? Can I even date them at all?? Not that I would, because I have standards. The only pro to entering this relationship(s?) would be that I’d probably get one of their robes for free, but the cons are so numerous that I’d rather buy it myself.

Abyss Watchers

Let’s be real and honest even if it hurts. Would I date an Abyss Watcher? Yes. Maybe I’d even date two. However, would an Abyss Watcher date me? No, because they’re all in love with Artorias, and I can’t blame them for that.

Old Demon King

At first I considered dating the Old Demon King like a Russian Instagram model dates an old, rich American man: with a great deal of fake love but above all great patience in order to be the only person on the will. But then I thought about it more, and what does the Old Demon King have to offer, really? A big firework show that will leave him exhausted like the old creature he is, and maybe some pyromancies. Truly, it is not worth it, especially since I’d have to take residence where he lives, in a big old room filled with the corpses of his kin.

High Lord Wolnir

I’ve got nothing against Wolnir personally, but I have no interest in skeletons, nor in his army of skeleton children. As stated above I’m not ready to be a mother. I feel like if we got in an argument and he sighed, he would poison me with his awful breath and I would die a horrible death. Also, living on the brink of the Abyss doesn’t appeal to me that much. However I would like Wolnir to be a good friend I can talk jewelry with because let’s be honest, the man (skeleton?) is blinged the fuck out even in death and I respect that.

Yhorm the Giant

Yes, I would date Yhorm. He was nothing but a sweet, misunderstood giant who always tried to get people to trust him and he convinced me. I would put my life in his big hands. Think of the possibilities. Just like with Vordt he could carry you everywhere but in a less reckless way if you prefer proper manners. You’d never have to worry about not seeing anything at a concert. Also, may I add that waiting for you to show up while sitting on his biggass throne is an absolute power move? Yhorm is a Lord of Cinder, but above all, a Lord of this heart.

Pontiff Sulyvahn

Would I date him because of his appealing aesthetic? Yes. Would I date him for anything else? No. Sulyvahn is absolutely terrifying, completely unhinged in the most frightening way, which is that he doesn’t look bat shit crazy. I could be thinking that everything is going well in our relationship then suddenly he’d lock me in a dungeon then would feed me to his weird friend because I put a fork in the knife drawer. He could pretend to propose and give me a weird fucked up ring with his eye in it and the next thing I know I’d be running in a field on all fours. I don’t trust like that.

Aldritch, Devourer of Gods

I’m so sad about Aldritch because literally everything about him is completely unappealing, unacceptable, unnatural, unholy, abhorrent, but he has the delicate and beautiful face of Gwyndolin. While our lovely Gwyndolin looks gorgeous as ever it doesn’t make up for the fact that Aldritch devoured people and probably wouldn’t find love to be a good reason to not eat his partner. The only reason I can find to have a friendship (not even a romantic relationship) with him is if you really like experimenting with cooking and you really, really need someone to taste your inventions.

Dancer of the Boreal Valley

I feel attraction, which means that just like any other being who feels attraction, I would date the Dancer. She is beautiful, graceful, a bit feral, and would not hesitate to put a flaming knife to my throat, which is the description of my dream woman. Imagine walking the streets with her, trying to hold her hand while it dangles 3 feet above you and she insists on holding her sword, actually, so she might slay anyone who tries to approach you, which she communicates through icy breaths and murmurs. The date of a lifetime.

Oceiros, the Consumed King

Another awful choice on this list, Oceiros is RABID and also, as far as we know, still a married man. You really want to date a man that hasn’t even gone through his divorce but already looks like this? Me neither. I’m already not big on dragon fucking but the fact that he’s all viscous and has weird growths all over him is not helping. Also, he has children, and we know how I feel about that — although, given how he treats them, he probably won’t have kids very soon (too far?).

Ancient Wyvern

So I’ve stated that I’m not very big on dragon fucking. With that said, do I think the wyvern is sexy and beautiful? Absolutely so. You’re probably like « Blue you’re sending mixed signals, are you gonna date the lizard or not? » and to that I say, date? Perhaps not. I would however like to form a lifelong bond with this wonderful force of nature and fight by its side, live a long and fulfilling life travelling along with it, only to die at the same time atop the tallest mountain in the world, where our skeletons will be discovers hundreds of years in the future by brave explorers, who will confirm that the legendary songs that were written about us were in fact not just a myth.

Nameless King

You’ve just read what I said about the wyvern. I feel like the Nameless King really understands me and would respect me for that. We could bond over our love of dragons and other flying scaly beasts and perhaps share some chaste kisses while soaring the sky on our companions. It’s nice to date someone who loves pets as much as you. I feel like he would be a fun guy to hang around in general, maybe he’d let you braid his hair or try on his crown. He can arrange personalized fireworks shows for you with his lightning powers. I don’t think you’d ever be bored around him.

Dragonslayer Armor

Dating an empty suit of armor has never bothered me (see: ds2 Ruin Sentinels), however I have beef with the dragonslayer armor. Is it a beautiful armor? Perhaps a bit worn off, but the reply remains affirmative. However, it is controlled by Pilgrim Butterflies, which basically means I’m dating one to multiple of these things in the shape of an armor, and I’ve gotta confess that I’m not down for that.

Lorian Older Prince and Lothric Younger Prince

Here comes the delicate moment where we have to make a choice without offending anyone. I personally, speaking for myself, in my own opinion, would rather date Lorian. Reason: he is big, strong, and a bit rabid, which I’ve made very clear is my type. I don’t dislike Lothric, but I feel like we’d be better off as best friends who have a really snarky group chat where we shit talk the entire kingdom. That’s pretty good because if I even just slightly disliked Lothric I’m pretty sure Lorian would sense it and would not hesitate to murder me on sight.

Champion’s Gravetender and Champion Greatwolf

Well the full name is just a formality here, I’m not completely insane so I don’t want to date this rabid wolf. I feel like the Champion’s Gravetender is just a normal dude who’s a bit in over his head and it’s not his fault but he just seems a bit boring compared to all my other options. Instead of a date I think he’d be more of an awkward flirt I had when I was bored and then I came to my senses but didn’t know how to disengage, but in the end it worked out because he was more interested in his work anyway.

Sister Friede and Father Ariandel

Again a choice has to be made and I will have to be predictable and say I’d date Elfriede. Just like Dancer she’s what the woman of my dreams is made of. She’s graceful and could easily take my life and I think it’s awfully sexy of her to be like that. I think I’d be accepted into the family pretty easily, which is important since Father Ariandel cares about Friede so much. I’d go visit him sometimes, play chess with him, bring him his flail, normal interactions with your girlfriend’s dad.

Soul of Cinder

I’m gonna be a tiny bit freaky here and say I’d date the Soul of Cinder. Dating it is just like opening a Kinder Surprise egg, you never know what you’re gonna get (sorry Americans for excluding you here). That makes life exciting and doesn’t let routine stall your relationship. Every day you can wake up with the question « What weapon will my darling walk around with today? The flaming sword, or the sorcery staff? » and be surprised by the answer. Truly ideal, but I understand it’s not for the faint of heart.

Demon Prince

I’m gonna go with a maaaaaaybeeeee? leaning towards no. I mean yes, the Demon Prince is a weird fleshy flaming demon, and that may be a bit gross, but I’ve gotta admit I admire his style, the drama of it all. The care he puts into his entrance, the attitude in his moves. If we don’t date I’d at least want to be friends so he can teach me his ways.

Darkeater Midir

I have very intense and contradictory feelings towards Midir. In one hand, holy shit, absolutely epic dragon, the spirit of companionship is growing in me. On the other hand, this beast is RABID and pretending I could tame him is foolish, and pretentious. I guess in the end the answer remains that I don’t date dragons, I just want to adopt them as my extremely exotic pets.

Halflight, Spear of the Church

Yeah I’d date Halflight, I know it’s the easy answer but look at him. I mean shit he’s walking around like a little thotty with his shirt open and you mean to tell me I’m not supposed to wanna date him because he looks pretty much like a regular dude? My boy Halflight WANTS me to date him or else he would not show up with his tiddies out to a sword fight, which as an activity already has enough erotic implications on its own.

Slave Knight Gael

I’m gonna say it unashamedly and I’ll say it again: I would date Gael. He’s been nothing but helpful and when he tries to attack you it’s to help his little lady that he’s adopted as his niece. We love a chaotic parental figure. Maybe he’s a tad bit old and dirty but there’s nothing a good bath can’t fix and I’m sure he’d appreciate having someone taking care of him for once. Again, he’s got that slightly unhinged quality to him that makes him delightful. When I walk around with my partner I want us to instill both fear and fascination in people which we would be able to accomplish perfectly well.

Dark Souls 1: Remastered date list // Dark Souls 2: Scholar of the First Sin date list

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itsthestutterforme · 3 years

Text

Undercover (Supernatural)

Redeemed Circuit 3/4

Summary: The Winchesters owed Rowena a favor for saving their tails on a previous hunt. She needed help hunting down a witch that stole from her. In order to do that, she needed Y/N to slip a truth serum into a sponsor's drink. //SMUT Warning 18+

Characters: Dean x POC! reader, Sam x POC! reader, Rowena x POC! reader, Chris Evans as Damien Datson x POC! reader

"This is not what I signed up for," you say with a huff. "I'm here to translate the demon tablet, that's it. No undercover work," you add. "I know but wouldn't it be nice to get your eyes away from those screens and slap on some nice smelling perfume?" Rowena suggests with a smile.

"No." Rowena's smile falls and you add, "Why don't you do it? You're fancy and bougie enough for a gala, aren't you?" "I am dearie, but there's a slight problem with me going." "And what's that?" "I lack melanin, sweetheart." You look up to meet Dean's and Sam's gaze. "This is a load of crap, you know that?"

"So is that a yes?" Sam asks with a small, nervous smile. "Oh my God, fine. But I have a feeling that I'm going to regret this." Rowena laughs and grabs your hand. She stands and drags me into the miniscule bathroom of the hotel.

Apparently, I have to attend this Gala and give a particularly rich sponsor, Damien Datson, a truth serum. This guy has connections to very powerful witches, but there's one that stole something important from Rowena.

A crystal of some sort. The Winchesters owe her from help saving them and their loved ones from the other world. Blah, blah, and here we are.

Once she was done with you, you could barely recognize yourself. Your thick, 3b curls were pulled into a throughly braided bun and your make up matched one of a hot villain you would see in the movies. Rowena did a smokey eyes look with glitter on the outer crease of the eye. She topped the entire look with black lipstick and a satin, maroon dress that dips dangerously low into your breasts.

And of course black, sparky pumps because you refused to wear heels. "You guys owe all the ice cream in the world after this." You snarks as you walk out of the bathroom. "Well, how does she look?" "She looks amazing. You did great, Rowena." Sam says. "I know I did,"

Words were trapped in Dean's throat as he stared at you. There were scars littering her body from when he had the Mark of Cain and tortured you go near death. It was a long time ago and there was a huge misunderstanding.

They moved past it now but it still weighs on him. "Oh look, you made Dean speechless." Rowena taunts. You look to him and his gaze fell on your scar on your leg.

"Hey, come on, let's get this over with so I can get out of these pumps." You say, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You got it," You all walk out of the hotel and hopped into Impala. You let out a soft sigh when Dean pulls up to the steps.

"Remember, darling, smile and slow down your blinking if you want to get a man's attention. It works every time." Rowena suggests. "Got it. See you in a n hour," "Be safe," Sam says.

You nod before leaving the Impala and holding the clutch close to your chest. You walk up the steps and approach the check in table. Rowena mutters a small incantation and the man at the desk let's you in.

"She's good to go," Rowena says and Dean pulls off. "So when are you going to tell Y/N that you're in love with her?" She adds. Dean looks at her through the rear view mirror.

"I've been telling him the same thing but he's hell bent on denying it," "Eh, well I'm sure she'll find a suitor in there who knows what he wants,"

Dean tries his best to suppress a snark remark that would only confirm their suspicions. You walk into the gala and instantly smell champagne and grapes. "Great, there's not even decent food here," you say. "That's exactly what I told my sister when she showed me the menu," a deep voice booms behind you.

"Oh, I wasn't aware I said that aloud. My apologies." You turn around and meet the sparkling navy orbs of beautiful vanilla skinned man. He wears a suit that matches the color of his eyes and tops if off with a black dress shirt and bowtie. The scent of his cologne is alluring and turns something in your stomach I haven't felt before.

"Don't be, you are probably the most honest person at this Gala," "That is saying something," you say, tugging at a loose curl in front of your ear. He tsks lowly and tucks the curl behind your ear. The touch of his hand on your skin sends chills down your body. What the hell is happening? "I'm Damien," "Y/N,"

"Would you like a glass of champagne, Y/N?" "That sounds great," "I know a place that is a lot more interesting. Care to join me?" "Why not?" His hand falls to your lower back and you couldn't help the gasp that left your lips. He hums in response before adding, "You're so responsive."

"I'm a lot of things, honey." You say before taking a sip of your champagne. You follow him up the stairs and into an office. The office looked like something you would find in the Victorian era.

Shelves were littered with thick, colorful books and there was a goregously large window with a bench built right below it to comfortably look out of it.

"It's beautiful," "I would have said as beautiful as you, but it's not even close." "Ha, such a flirt." "You're not the only one that's a lot of things. So are you going to tell me what you're really doing here?" "Beg your pardon?" "No offense, baby, but that make up and that dress has Rowena written all over it."

At this point, you were ready to practice what Dean taught you with a groin kick, right hook and an uppercut. "And I have an inkling on what she wants. But I've got to hand it to her, she sent the perfect distraction."

He steps closer to you and something else awakened in you. Something that your brother taught you after he came back from his first tour as as a Marine.

You grab his arm and swept your leg under his as you twist your body. He falls to the ground and you straddle his waist as you take the dagger from your thigh holster and press it against his throat. "So you like to be on top huh?"

"Just give me Percival's number and nobody will get hurt," you state. "Oh I'll give your her number willingly," "Why?" "You don't believe me, understandable." "Either you never liked her or you rat out your friends when a threat shows up," you state.

He chuckles and grabs your hips before pressing you against the floor. He pins your wrists above your head and the knife falls out of your hand.

"Threat huh?" You send him a glare and he adds, "I never liked her. That's why I'm willing to give you her location." "And what else do you want?"

"That entirely depends on what you agree to." He takes his grip away from your wrists and stands up from the floor. He offers his hands to you and you allow him to lift you off the floor effortlessly.

You brush off the dirt on your hands and dress. You crossed your arms over your chest and he says, "Relax, doll. I won't touch you unless you want me to." You look to him and his face was calm but his eyes still twinkle with amusement.

You brush past him to look out the telescope and smiled when I saw a constellation, one of my favorite ones. "Is that the big dipper and littler dipper side by side?" "I was mesmerized by it too," "Does that normally happen?" "Nope, it's a rare occurrence,"

"Wow, well I'm glad I could see it." You stand upright and turn around to nearly run into his lips. "I thought you said no touching," "I'm not touching you.. yet." You were boxed in against the wall. He's right, he wasn't touching you. But if you moved even an inch, you would touch him.

What the hell? You only live once and he is an extremely attractive man. You tug him closer by the hem of his jacket and lean up to kiss him. He hums lowly into the kiss and his hands slowly slide up your waist. "Damn it, you're intoxicating." He says as he pulls away from your lips.

"Sit down baby," he motions to the desk. You sit down on the of desk and he rubs your thighs. He ducks his head under yours and presses a soft kiss on the base of your neck. His fingers near closer and closer to your clothed heat and you moan in anticipation.

He smiles against your neck and he slowly slides your underwear off. He pulls you to the edge of the desk by your ankles. The nerves get a hold of you and your legs started to shake. "Already, I didn't even get a chance to taste you."

He lifts up the dress and balls it around your waist. He licks his lips before taking you into his mouth. A loud moan leaves your lips as his tongue laps your folds and he sucks at your clit.

His beard scratching against your skin stimulated your body even further. His tongue curls at just the right angle and your legs tremble. He sucks as he pulls back and curls when he goes back in. He stays in the cycle and you buck your hips to find a deeper g-spot but he holds you down.

He twists his tongue so it brushes against your g spot and stimulates your clit at the same time. "Oh fuck." Your hands find his hair and pulls him closer your pussy. You buck your hips again and ride out your first euphoria. He licks up all of your juices before pulling away.

He lifts you into his arms and walks you to the bench. You unzip your dress and pull it over your head. You toss it to the floor and he takes all of you in. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, touching one of your scars. Not wanting any more attention to them, you cups his cheeks and lock your lips with his.

He grabs a hold of your ass and squeezes it tightly. You moan into his mouth and rock your hips against his crotch. "Fuck, doll," he moans as he leans his head back in pleasure. You stop your movements and unfasten his belt to open his pants.

You take his semi hard dick into your hand and give it a few pumps while stick rocking your hips. "You keep that up and I'll finish before we even get started." He says breathlessly. "Do you have a-" you were cut off by him pulling out a condom from his pocket.

You take it and peel it open to wrap it around his member. You sit up a little to line yourself up with him before sinking on him until he bottoms out. "Fuck, you're tighter than I thought," you jerk your hips a little and flex your inner walls when you bounce up.

The grip on your ass tightens and you lean forward to hold onto the wall for balance. You bounce faster spell the world coconut on repeat until you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

Your thrusts became slow and hard until you feel the warmth of his seed. He lifts you up and lays your back on the bench cushions. He pulls out of you to take off this condom and put on a new one. Your back arches when one of his hands slide between your legs and rubs your clit.

He unclips your bra to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You yell out in pure bliss when his covered dick rams into your g-spot that made your walls flutter. Your rolls your hips to match his thrusts and your nails dug into his lower back, sinking himself deeper into you.

You two moan in unison and your second orgasm washed over you. He puts one of your legs on his shoulder to fit the both of you on the bench. Then without warning, he rams into you hard and fast.

Your body was bouncing and shaking under his touch and her rubs harder circles on your clit. Your eyes are pressed shut and you turn your head to the side, unable to form words. Your third orgasm came quicker this time but he keeps thrusting into you. He twists his hips at a different angle and you pull him deeper inside of you by pulling his hips.

You could practically feel him in your cervix. "Oh God," you whimper when he takes your nipple into his mouth again while he pounds into you. Your stomach did flips and you moans matched with his thrusts until pinched your clit, sending you over the edge for the forth time. Soon after, he came again and pulls out of you.

You sit up on opposing ends of the bench and you stare out the window. He stands from the bench and puts his pants and boxers back on. He pulls out a handerchief and hands it to you.

"Thanks," you say, gently taking it from him and wiping off the slickness from your thighs and stomach. A warm blanket is wrapped around your body and you feel his hand brush a loose curl from your face. "You okay?" He asks, softly. "Never better," you say with a smile.

"You mind if I hold you?" he asks, taking you by surprise. Out of all of the sexual experiences you've experienced, none of them were as considerate as Damien. "Sure."

"You seem surprised," he states as he slides behind you and pulls your back against his chest. He wraps his arms around you and draws small, soft circles on your stomach. You close your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder. "You're good at this,"

"Hm?" "At making a woman feel cared about," "Is that your way of saying you're taken for granted?" "How did-" "I'm a witch, remember?" "Ah, mind reading," you say. "It definitely helps at times, but no, I can see and read your aura."

"Okay, and what does mine tell you." "It tells me that you feel like a broken glass, and are fearful that you'll never be your version of fixed. You feel guilt but you're having trouble understanding why,"

You twist your body to meet his gaze and he adds, "Am I right?" "I should head back," You take the blanket with you and gather your clothes. You pull on your underwear and dress, careful not to smear your make up. You find a mirror and reapply your black lip stick.

You take out a few bobby pins and clips and your damp, curly hair falls to your shoulders. You feels his hands on your hips and he pulls your hair from your shoulders. He presses a soft kiss to the curve of your neck and says, "If you really feel that way about who you are with, then don't go back."

"It's not that simple," "Sometimes it is. Just think about it." He says before handing me a burner phone. You look from the phone to him before gently taking it. "I will," You turn and he cups your cheeks to kiss you but you pull away.

"Ah, ah, you should have kissed me before I put my lip stick on." "Is that so?" He pulls you to his chest and lifts you up around his waist. You could feel his hard on against your thigh and moan softly.

"I'm pretty sure they're waiting in the.." You trail off when his neck kisses became more sensual. "Make it quick," you say, finally giving in.

Fast forward to walking down the stairs and out of the gala. You tuck the burner phone into your purse before hopping into the Impala. You had a feeling that you would get busted, even after fixing your make up and spraying some perfume.

"Hey," Sam says. "I got a burner phone with all of his contacts and he told me which one was Percival," "I have a feeling you didn't even need the truth serum, did you dearie?" Rowena asks. "No, I didn't. Can we go please?"

"Why the rush, darling? Wait, is that.. cologne?" Embarassment burned your cheeks and you didn't open your mouth to defend yourself. "Y/N, you vixen." she says, nudging your shoulder. Not wanting to meet anyone's gaze, you look out the window.

They finally pull off and you hear your phone chime.

"You'll thank me later," -Rowena.

You look over your shoulder at her and she sends your a playful smirk.

"What are you talking about?" you text.

"You'll see," she responds.

We pull into the garage of the bunker and the first place you go is the bathroom to rid yourself of the hairspray, make up and Damien's scent. Although you still found it intoxicating.

You walk out the bathroom as you dry your hair with a smaller towel. You find Rowena on your bed with the burner phone next to her. "Is there a problem?" "No, just curiousity. How was he, you know, in bed?" "Rowena," you scold.

"Oh come on, I've seen women kill just to be in the same room as him. All you had to do was show up and he was all over you." "He was.. the first actual gentleman that I slept with. He cleaned me up and held me afterwards. It was like he truly cared about md,"

"But I don't know, it was probably some ploy to make me feel better about myself," you add. "On the contrary, he actually texted you a few minutes ago. "What?" "Yeah, he seems interested. I would definitely set up another date,"

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?" Dean says, annoyed from listening to the conversation about another man touching you. "Good luck," Rowena mouths before leaving the room. Dean walks into your room and shuts the door. "Dean?"

#dean smut #dean winchester #sam winchester #rowena #supernatural #chris evans #chrisevans x reader

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mypimpademia · 4 years

Note

can i request a shoto x (black if you can) reader reacting to fanfiction like one of those videos on youtube 👋🙈

Todoroki x black!reader

TW: Swearing, the ending is like sort of suggestive?? Like the fic theyre reading is suggestive

Note: youre a youtuber in this fic. I felt like it'd work better if it was a fanfic about you and Todoroki and not an x reader too. And I felt like this would work better as a one shot instead of a hc which I usually do. Also this is really bad and I apologize bc this is definitely not my best work but I tried- (this was sitting in drafts for like 2 days bc I wanted to find a way to make it better but I still hate it but I hope its not unbearable for yall)

Key: F/n = fan names (the name of your fanbase); italics = whats being said in the fic that you're reacting too; F/f = favorite food

"Hello F/n's, welcome back to another video. As you can see, my amazing boyfriend is here with us again today." You said enthusiastically, hugging Shoto.

He waved at the camera, not knowing what to say. "Me being, I haven't told him what we're finna be doin. So, what do you think we're gonna do?" You asked him.

Shoto looked slightly distressed, because last time you did a whats in the box challenge, and he ended up touching a raw, dead, squid.

"I have no clue, but I'm scared as hell." He said, leaning his head into the palm of his head, while his elbow rested on his knee.

"Don't be, its nothing bad." You reassured him. You received nothing but a look that said 'you sure about that?'.

"We're reacting to fanfiction of ourselves." You told him. "Fanfiction?" Shoto asked.

"Yes." You said, earning another questioning look. "Anyways, let's start before he quits." You said, pulling out your phone.

"Youre reading first, babe." You handed him your phone.

"Chocolate bunny, where are you, baby?" Shoto read, only to pause, and squint at the screen.

"I dont call her that." He said bluntly. "Hes not that corny." You said. "I'm not corny at all." He objected. "You call me Hersheys Kiss, Sho." You corrected in turn. "Yeah, but thats cute, I wouldn't out right call you 'chocolate'." (I'm putting this in because I personally hate when a fic refers to a black reader as 'chocolate' and im doing it twice to be cringy <3)

"'I'm in the kitchen!' Y/n shouted to him." Shoto said, attempting to do a female voice. "Is that how I sound to you??" You asked him, scruncing up your face. "Well, I cant exactly sound like you." He said. "Fine, we'll read our own parts." You offered in compromise.

"'Hey, baby. I know I've been busy with hero work, but since I'm off, lets spend the day together.' Shoto said, wrapping his arms around Y/n's waist." Shoto read enthusiastically, in order to give the story feel. "'That'd be great. And I made you cold soba, eat up.' Y/n told him, placing his bowl on the counter.'"

"That's more accurate." You said, referring to him offering to spend a day at home and giving him cold soba. "Except, I wake up first." Shoto added.

"After eating breakfast, Y/n and Shoto lounged around. Talking about nothing in particular, bouncing around topics like their future, movies, and even local food places." Shoto read, seeming at least slightly interested now.

"'Shoto, you'd probably have catering bring the best cold soba to our wedding, even if its from all the way around the world.'" You stopped to look over at Shoto, you could tell he was genuinely thinking of that idea. "We've actually had this talk, im not sure what he's going to do, but i found a sticky note that included a giant bowl of cold soba." You said, shaking your head.

"Im doing it." Shoto confirmed. "But why..?" You asked him. "Why not?" He asked in response. "Then I'm getting a giant f/f." You told him. He gave you a short shrug, silently compromising.

"'Yeah, but you'd probably let me.'" Shoto smiled at how accurate the story was. "'Whatever. By the way, your favorite China shop is open, how about we go get you another soba bowl?' Y/n suggested, propping her head up on her palms." You read aloud, feeling a tap on your shoulder.

"Can we actually do that after this, baby?" Shoto asked, giving you a specific look that he knew you couldn't say no to. "Sure." You sighed.

"'Yes, please.' Shoto cheered in agreement, getting up to get dressed."

"Now I just know that this is finna be one of those fics where its like, 'Y/n threw her hair up into a messy bun, slipping on a big shirt-'." You predicted, as you skimmed through the text, proving yourself correct.

"Y/n styled her braids in a low ponytail, throwing on a pair of ripped, skinny, blue jeans, and a tank top." You read through slight snorts.

"Shoto put on his usual going out outfit, black jeans, a white shirt, and a light blue jacket." Shoto cringed, eyebrows twitching as he read.

"Do I really wear that specific outfit that much?" He asked. "Yes, Shoto, you do. That's why I always try to get you to change." You told him, rolling your eyes.

"And you just didn't say anything?" Shoto retorted. "Bro, I just-" You paused when he started laughing. "Fuck you." You huffed. "Later." He mouthed.

You blinked, taking everything in for a second. "Bet- but back to the story."

"At the China shop, Shoto had stacks on stacks of expensive soba bowls. Y/n pointed out which ones she thought he'd like, while looking at a few cups and tableware at the same time."

"After buying everything and loading into to the car, Shoto made a suggestion. 'How about we go get you some more clothes, Bunny?' He asked Y/n. 'Sho, you take me clothes shopping every other week.' She replied. 'Yeah, but I like buying you things.' He huffed, with a pout."

"This is exactly, how shopping with him is." You said, shaking your head. "I really do like buying you things. My baby deserves everything, so thats the best I can do." Shoto cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his head on your shoulder.

"I love you, Hersheys Kiss." Shoto said, kissing your cheek. "I love you too, IcyHot." You said back.

"'Fine Sho, but only a few things. And we're buying for you too.' Y/n compromised. Shoto smiled, and nodded his head."

"After shopping, Y/n snd Shoto came back with bags from stores like Fashion Nova, Sephora, Bath & Body Works, etc.. After setting their bags down, Shoto fell backwards onto the bed, a sigh leaving his lips."

"'All tired out, Sho?' Y/n asked him, laying on top of him. He nodded, sitting up straight, making sure to keep Y/n on his lap. 'But.. I know something that could wake me up.' Shoto whispered, red painting his face. He pulled out a Victoria's Secret bag from one of the other bags. Y/n was curious as to how he got it, considering that they were together the whole time. But her thoughts were cut short from hearing Shotos voice. 'Put this on for me?'"

"And then it just ends? How did you feel about this, Sho?" You asked, turning to meet his eye. Shoto grumbled, saying something under his breath that you couldn't hear.

"My father told me fans could get like this... but I didn't think I'd ever see it outside of crazed fangirls on the streets." He grunted, a slightly uncomfortable glint in his face.

"You know some go past that, right Sho?" You told him. Shoto narrowed his eyes, giving you a side glance before looking back at the camera.

"Anyways, enough of torturing Sho for this video. Please like, subscribe, and comment, hit the bell to turn on notifications so you can stay tuned. I'll see you next time, bye F/n's." You blew a kiss towards the camera before turning it off.

"Can we go get my soba bowls now?" Shoto asked, wrapping his arms around you, as you checked the cameras files to make sure nothing crashed.

"Yes, and we can get you more clothes." You told him, pecking his cheek. "I dont really wear the same thing that often, do I?" He questioned you, and himself, eyebrows threading together.

"You do, now let's go IcyHot." You ushered him, taking him by the hand.

"If you call me IcyHot again, I will start calling you Chocolate Bunny.

#shoto x poc #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #shoto torodoki #todoroki x poc #todoroki x reader #todoroki family #todoroki shouto #mha todoroki #mha headcanons #mha #mha x poc!reader #bnha hcs #bnha headcanons #bnha #bnha x poc!reader #i hate this

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jeonggukookies · 4 years

Text

too young || three

summary: jungkook tells you the truth about his “daughter” and the girl’s mother

word count: 3,003

genre: parent!au, single dad!jungkook fluff/angst/slow burn

one || two || three

“Jungkook, look!” Lifting your head up from your book, your eyes watched Jules drag Jungkook into your direction. You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing as he and Jules stumbled onto the light blue checkered blanket. “Wow! Small world, am I right?”

“Indeed,” you joked.

Jungkook was wearing a long-sleeve yellow button up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His shirt was tucked into his ripped light jeans. His outfit matched Jules; she was wearing a white t-shirt with yellow checkered shorts. For the first time in forever, her hair was down.

“Do you mind if we join you?” He asked while Jules put her hands together and gave you a begging look. He ran his left hand through his brown hair as his other hand held a large picnic basket. “If not, it’s cool.”

You let out a small laugh and rolled your eyes at his attempt of being a cool guy who didn’t care. “I mean I suppose if I get something from the basket.”

“Yay!” Jules cheered as she sat down right away across from you. “I’m glad the three of us are having a picnic.”

“What are you reading?” Jungkook as he sat down. He put the basket lightly in front of him and opened the lid. He gave you a teasing look. “Let me guess: E. L. James?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” You lifted the book from your lap to show him the cover of the book you were reading. It was a graphic novel that documented a life as a refugee escaping the Great War. He stared at your book for a while before taking out the first container out of the basket. “Not what you expected?”

“I don’t know actually.” He opened the lid of the container, revealing chocolate covered strawberries. “I mean, I don’t really know you.”

“You will soon,” Jules whispered under her breath. She shoved a strawberry in her mouth. “Soon.”

“What was that, kiddo?” Jungkook asked as he grabbed hand sanitizer and squeezed some onto his hands.

“Nothing.” Jungkook then started parting Jules’s hair into three sections and began braiding her hair. “I’m eating strawberries.”

“Who taught you how to braid?” You asked, getting a strawberry from the container. Once you tasted it, you knew you couldn’t stop; they were that good. “I feel like you can braid better than most people.”

He laughed, and just like Jules’s laugh, it was like hearing the most precious sound ever. You just wanted to listen to it over and over again, and you would never get tired of it. “I asked Jin to teach me how to braid when Jules started living with me, but then I taught myself how to do the fancy ones.”

Trying to hide your confused facial expression, you closed your book. Jules didn’t always lived with Jungkook, and he had moved and changed his job in order to fit around Jules’s schedule. Did that mean Jungkook and Jules’s mother were divorced? Did her mother suddenly not want her anymore?

You watched as Jungkook carefully and gently braided Jules’s hair without hurting her. “I wish I knew how to braid.”

“You don’t know how?” Jungkook asked as he grabbed the brown hair tie from his left wrist and wrapped it around the end of Jules’s braid. Again, he put santizer onto his hands and then reached to grab a strawberry. “You never learned?”

“I’m just really bad with my hands,” you said without thinking.

“Oh god,” Jules mumbled as Jungkook bit his lower lip, trying not to laugh. “What does that mean?”

“That’s not what I meant.” You let out a laugh. “I just couldn’t braid, so my mom or my friends would always do it for me.”

“Maybe one day, I’ll teach you.” Jungkook offered. Jules gave him a ‘what is this’ kind of look. You watched Jungkook nudge her, and Jules got back to eating the strawberries. “Perhaps, I’ll be the teacher, and you’ll be the student.”

Before you could reach for another strawberry, Jungkook reached for one and handed it to you. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like them,” he said. “Jules and I made them.”

“They’re delicious.” Jules smiled and patted herself on the back.

“Do you like coming to the park to read alone?” He asked.

“I’m fine by myself.” You shrugged. “Even if I didn’t want to be alone, I couldn’t invite someone. No one would want to come just to be with someone who’s reading.”

“I just think you haven’t found the right person for that.” Jungkook’s alluring eyes met yours. He was looking at you as if he was trying to look into your soul and understand what was going on in your head. “I know you said you were okay with being alone, but don’t you feel lonely sometimes?”

You knew that he asked with concern and wonder, not with the intent to hurt you, but somehow, it did hurt a little. You never thought too much about it, but you were amazed he could read you that easily.

“And what makes you think that?”

“I mean, you’re reading a book alone where someone is seeking asylum in a new foreign place, and I just had this feeling,” he explained. “Do you feel like you’re alone?”

You didn’t like depending on anybody else, but there were times where you did feel alone, even when you surrounded yourself with a bunch of people. You just distracted yourself away from that feeling by talking to other people. The feeling of loneliness eventually does go away, but it eventually did come back. It was just a cycle you had to deal with.

“Way to go, Kook,” Jules gritted through her teeth. “You know how to make a person feel good about themselves.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be nosy or anything. Or sad. I wouldn’t want that on you.”

“I’m fine, really. I’m just thinking.” Jungkook was practically a stranger to you, yet you felt comfortable enough to share personal information with him. Your feelings towards Jungkook were changing. You knew that you started to like him and trust him. “I think that’s why I wanted to work in a school environment. I’m able to connect with a bunch of people who have different stories, so it makes me feel less lonely and alone. And I want to help them, so they don’t feel like that.”

“Did you feel like that growing up?” He asked.

“I mean, a little.” You thought about your childhood. “I was an only child, and I didn’t have a big family. I grew up with my parents and spent a lot of time at school with some friends, so when I wasn’t with them, I did feel alone. But I knew there was always someone there.”

“I get it.” Jungkook gave you a small smile and reached your shoulder to rub your upper arm in soothing circles. His touch felt like a thousand bolts went through your system. It was like he made your senses stronger. “Thank you for being comfortable enough to share that. Especially with me.”

He had the kind of energy where you felt like you were at home; you felt comfortable, safe and at peace. You were so used to being that type of person that you weren’t used to seeing other people like that too. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you needed that. “Thanks Jungkook. For listening. For not judging.”

“Are you always that brave?” He teased. “Like I’m glad you trust me and all, but you took a risk by telling me. What if I run away this instant and tell the whole world how you felt?”

”Ha.” You released another laugh. “My mom owns a casino, actually.”

“Oh?” He said, not getting your point. “You go to casinos, and that’s why you like taking risks?”

You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him. “She told me to always take the chance even when I’m afraid and don’t know. She didn’t think I would want to lose what I could have had,” you explained. “I took the risk to tell you, and hopefully you don’t run away from me.”

He smiled. “She’s smart.”

Jules then cupped her hands around Jungkook’s ear and whispered into his ear. She was terrible at it as you heard her ask, “Jungkook, when are you going to do it then?”

He looked at you and said, “Monday.”

___

That following Monday, you looked up from your laptop once you heard a knock on your office door.

There, at the door, Jungkook, in a cotton candy blue long sleeve button up and white pants, had a bouquet of purple Alstroemerias in his left hand. He gave them to you, and before you could say anything, he asked if he could cook you dinner at his house on Friday night.

You didn’t have to say anything. The smile on your face was your answer, and Jungkook knew it.

“I took the risk.”

“Are you glad?”

“Hell yeah.”

____

“Yeah, so I actually can’t cook.” You were with Jungkook at his home theatre room. You two were lying on your sides, facing each other under the big pillow and blanket fort that Jules was still setting up. Just like kids, you three were having a sleepover.

“I can tell,” you joked as you looked down at the leftover pizza on the paper plate that outside the fort. You arrived earlier than what Jungkook told you, and he tried to rush you into the theatre room. As you went into the room, you saw the pizza delivery guy come to the door with a box of pizza in his hand. You kept teasing him about it as you both ate the pizza. “It’s okay. I like it still.”

“Jules, do you want to join us?” Jungkook asked.

“I’m still setting this whole fort up, Kook!” She yelled from outside the fort, adjusting the sheets above your head. "I’m almost done! One more thing!"

“Do you guys always make forts?” You heard loud footsteps run towards the other side of the room, and the lights are turned off. Then, a switch is turned on, and you looked up to see stars through the blankets and sheets. "Fancy."

“Probably every other weekend.” You nodded. “Just to keep things interesting.”

Jules then got into the fort and laid between next to you and Jungkook. Jules then wrapped her arms around Jungkook's body. He laughed, rubbed her back and quietly sang her a soft lullaby. You couldn't help but to smile at how precious they both were.

"How's work?"

“Bearable,” he joked. "I get to see Jules in the morning and after school now, so I'm glad."

Despite the fact that Jungkook forgot to pick up his daughter, you knew he cared about her deeply. There was no way he couldn't. He took the time to learn to braid her hair, sacrificed his career and always made sure she was okay.

"Look at you being a cuddler."

“I like you a lot, ya know?” You let out a small giggle.

"I sure hope so," you teased back. “The pizza really shows.”

“I want to get to know you better.” Jungkook began asking questions. He didn't ask you the simple things like your favorite color, food, movie or any of small talk. He knew he could always ask those later. Instead, he asked you questions that made you think and see what kind of person you were; he really wanted to get to know you and how you see life. He asked questions like lyrics that stood out to you the most, what you thought your purpose was, your worst habit and more.

You told him that you always wanted to help kids. To you, kids were special, and you wanted them to be on the right path as they grow up and develop their own ideas. You wanted them to be in a safe environment, wanted them to learn and be happy. You thought your purpose was doing that: making others live happy and shaping their lives, so they choose the path to do something great.

Jungkook told you that he had a similar purpose. He told you that he thought his purpose was to make art with words and sounds; making music was perfect for him. He loved the idea that people turned to music in times of happiness, sadness, needing of comfort and more, and he wanted to make all kinds of music that people could turn to. It was a small thing, but he believed he could help people.

You liked that about him a lot. He wanted people to be happy, just like you did.

"Do you think your purpose changed with Jules in your life?" You asked. “Do you think it shifted towards to Jules instead of your career?”

He looked down at Jules who was peacefully sleeping in his arms. "A little. I still make music, but I still want the world's happiness for Jules. I guess it’s having multiple purposes in life."

You couldn't help but to ask him. “Why does she call you Jungkook?”

He raised his eyebrows, scrunching them together. “Because that’s my name? Is she supposed to call me Martin or something?”

You rolled your eyes causing him to smile at you. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

He took a deep breath, and his facade of being happy and a joker came off. He became serious. “Ask me what you really want to know.”

“Why doesn’t she call you Dad?”

"Because I’m not her dad." He started stroking the back of Jules's hair. "I thought you knew that."

"What do you mean?" You tilt your head, confused. “How would I know?”

“I just thought Jules would have told you by now, or you looked into her file at school.” He started to explain. “"When I was growing up, my family was close to Jules's mother's family. They had a daughter about four years younger than me. Her name was Sarah."

"That's Jules's mom's name?"

He nodded. “Jules looks just like her. Brown hair, hazel eyes, and the dimples.”

“Same personality too?”

“I think she’s more like you.” He chuckled, having a small smile on his face. “Jules has a big heart, is smart and knows what she wants. For her age, she’s not afraid of anything. Sarah wasn’t quite like that. She struggled a lot in school and really was more of a follower than a leader.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Right, but I think it just led her to make the wrong choices. She partied a lot, argued with her parents and wasn’t responsible. I was like her older brother. I had to take care of her and made sure she was coming home at night, alive and breathing.”

“So what happened?”

“Sarah told me everything. Seven years ago, she told me the night before her graduation that she was pregnant.” He paused. “But she didn't know who the Dad was. It was a one night stand."

You felt bad for Sarah already, having to raise a child at such a young age and all alone. Although Jules seem to not mind about not having a Dad, you felt bad that she never had the opportunity to meet him. She was left with a lot of questions not answers.

“I already graduated university and had my own career ahead of me.” Jungkook continued his story. "I didn’t do much, but I tried and helped Sarah here and there once Jules was born. I bought diapers, paid for babysitters and visited like once a month and on birthdays.”

“You did that even though you didn’t have to.”

“I cared for the both of them.”

“Where is she now?” This story could go anywhere, and you weren’t prepared at all. Did she become an alcoholic and was deemed unfit to parent Jules? Did she leave Jules? Did she just give Jungkook a baby and walked away?

He took a deep breath. “A couple months before you were principal, Sarah was on her way to pick up Jules and got into an accident. Nothing could have been done to save her.”

“How did you get Jules then?”

“Jules didn’t have any other family but her uncles, and in Sarah’s will, she entrusted me to be Jules's guardian."

"Oh, Jungkook." You knew Jungkook adored Jules, but it wasn’t the life he planned or wanted; it just happened. “I’m so sorry.”

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Y/N." He kissed the top of Jules's head and held her a little tighter. "I'm glad Jules is in my life, but there are some days where they are harder than others."

"I mean, that's still a big adjustment." Jungkook agreed with you. "You had a whole life already, and now you’re living a life you didn’t think you were going to live.”

“It wasn’t something I wanted to choose, but there was no other choice.” He sighed. “Life is crazy and works in mysterious ways.”

“You asked me if I felt alone.” He nodded. “Do you feel like that?”

“Sometimes when I am lost and confused,” he answered. “I have the boys, but sometimes, I don’t know what I’m doing with Jules. I feel like it would have been better for Sarah to raise her, and I wouldn’t have to be hard on her sometimes when she misbehaves.”

“You’re just doing your job,” you assured him. “She loves you and knows you love her.”

“But on good days, I’m glad I have Jules. I know then I’m not alone.”

“But you still miss what you had before.”

“Missing my old life won’t change anything. It’s not going to bring me back my old life or bring back Sarah. It’s better just to move on,” he said. “Besides, I’m really happy with what I have now and Jules. And I am definitely happy that I met you.”

#bangtanwriters-net #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #too young

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star-spangledstud · 4 years

Text

PARADISE

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The Avengers enjoy a hard-earned vacation.

Word Count: 3700-ish

Warnings: Fluff (None)

Blistering heat. Skin sticky from several layers of coconut-scented sunblock with built-in self-tanner, causing a dewy glow to set upon your bronzed, heated skin. A bright pink cocktail stood beside the tanning bed you were laying on, a slice of fresh lime and a tiny blue umbrella hanging off the side of the glass. Drops of condensation made their way down the length of the fishbowl shaped glass, collecting on the palm tree coaster it sat on. You sipped it every minute or so through a neon yellow plastic straw, allowing the icy drink to cool you down while the alcohol warmed the back of your throat as it went down.

You turned the page of your romance novel, green doe eyes covered by large black sunglasses following along the words written on the tattered paper. A glance up from your book to the pool area in front of you revealed toned bodies in brightly colored swimming trunks and skimpy bikinis sprawled everywhere. Natasha sat beside you on Wanda's sunbed. She'd braided her hair and was busy putting flowers in it. Fake daisies by the looks of it, made of cloth with little plastic stems. You smiled and took another sip, savoring the sour taste and slushy texture and took a mental note to order the same thing over dinner later. Then, you turned back to your book.

Steve loved summer. Perhaps it was the stark contrast provided by the sun's rays to the ice he was trapped in for so long or the scent of nature in bloom all around him that sparked his admiration for the season. He wasn't sure. All he knew is that he enjoyed the blistering heat and the breeze carrying the scent of fresh flowers across the resort.

His skin had become wrinkly from spending hours on end in the pool with the guys, but he was finally starting to win the game of volleyball against Sam and Thor, and Captain America did not like to lose. He'd tried to convince Tony and Bruce to join them but they were sitting in the shade, stacks of paper and two laptops covering the sunbeds around them. You smiled and shook your head at them, but didn't comment on their constant need to work, even though it was Tony's idea to take everyone away for a two-week paid trip to paradise in the first place. Maybe he just really loved showing off his money. You didn't care, because you were sipping on your fourth free cocktail.

Your eyes drifted back to the water glistening beneath the rays of the sun, to Steve, who was laughing so hard at something Peter said his hand went to his chest.

Steve felt your eyes on him as soon as you lowered your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose so you could watch him lose the game. He held his hand up to the guys, motioning for them to continue without him. Peter begged him to stay, knowing he could never win the game by himself, but Steve already waded to the edge of the pool. Instead of using the metal stairs, he gripped the edge of the pool and lifted himself out in a fluid motion. Water dripped from his torso and out of his shorts, leaving a trail of it on the marble tiles as he closed in on you.

He softly took a hold of your calves, lifting your legs and placing them into his lap so he could sit down on the sunbed. You placed your book on your chest, marveling at drops of water that ran down his milky white torso. That boy did not tan.

"Tired?" You teased, eyes drifting to Thor smashing the ball across the water.

"I can go all day, remember?" He replied, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Sore loser then," you retorted, "nothing wrong with admitting defeat."

"'S not in my genes, I'm afraid," he paused, "so, what' cha reading?"

Even after the sun had set behind the palm trees, the heat remained. The air was still heavy and humid by the time you woke up from your pre-dinner nap and the second you stepped out of your shower, your skin was sticky again. You'd already given up on washing your hair. It would just get greasy again.

It was nearly nine when all of you met up at the restaurant. Overlooking the beach, you had a perfect view of the waves that crashed upon the shore from your seat at the table. You ordered the same ridiculous cocktail and were sipping it quietly, listening to your teammates conversating. Shadows of the palm trees waving gently in the breeze cascaded across the candlelit tables, hypnotizing you for a moment.

Tony's laugh broke your trance and you smiled, not really having listened to the joke. He stood up, scraping his chair back across the cobblestone. His glass of white wine swirled when he rose and he used a fork to tap the side of his glass. Silence immediately fell over the table.

"A toast, to the most annoying yet best teammates a guy like me, could ever ask for," he grinned, "the only reason why I'm saying this is because I've been day-drinking. They make hella Pina Coladas here."

"We know," Natasha said, grinning widely, "we love you too, Tony."

Waiters circled around the tables that had been pushed together to accommodate all of you, plates filled with various kinds of gourmet dishes balancing on their arms and in their hands. You raised your glass, smiling while everyone else did the same.

You looked at Steve, who had taken a seat beside you. He'd traded his swim shorts for a pale blue button-up shirt of which he'd rolled up the sleeves. A shark-tooth necklace, courtesy of one of the salesmen down at the beach who just wouldn’t leave him alone, hung around his neck. It was perfectly visible through the undone buttons on his chest. His hair was fluffy and soft from being in the water all day. You could tell he hadn't tried to style it with gel.

You almost hated yourself for watching him, even from the corner of your eye. It was a habit that had crept into your system over the course of four months. A habit that resembled an addiction to drugs. It was just fun at first, but your constant need to have your eyes on Steve had turned into a necessity, into a way of life.

The two of you had always hit it off. He was the first person to introduce you to the rest of the team when you were initially hired and he had taken it upon himself to show you the ropes and guide your training after that. He made you feel comfortable in an environment filled with strong, confident people during a time in which you felt like a small fish in a big pond. He watched your back on missions and took you to the city on days off - although admittedly, he mostly brought you along for his own selfish reasons.

He forced you to take him to places like McDonald's and KFC, not because the food - although advertised as such - was finger-licking good, but because he'd missed out on the experience of greasy fast food when he was growing up in the previous century. He forced you to take him to BestBuy, not because he was in the market for a new smart-fridge, but because he needed you to explain the appliances that had been invented after he went into the ice without judging him for his continuous stream of questions. It wasn't until your throat was sore from all the talking that he would take you to a coffee shop so you could sit down and enjoy a hot beverage. Not Starbucks though. Way too crowded and the drinks were too complicated. What the hell was a Frappuccino, anyway?

It was during those days where you began to glance at him. Peaks, out of the corners of your eye when he was trying to figure out whether to order a Quarterpounder or a Big-Mac. Admiration for adjusting so quickly in a world so far away from his own, for accepting it. Glances turned into zoned-out stares that focused on his features until he'd wave his hand in front of your face and ask you what planet you were on. Your cheeks would heat up every time, a sight he loved - but would never admit - and you would stammer and make up a stupid excuse about being tired.

You hated the feeling of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach whenever he would brush his arm against yours during the movie nights, or when his knees would hit yours as you sat opposite each other in the coffee shop. You hated the lopsided smiles he gave you when he thought you weren't looking and hated how close he would stand to you in the kitchen when you were making breakfast, shirt off and sweatpants riding low on his perfectly sculpted hips.

You hated how you'd begun to develop a crush on Steve Rogers. It just crept up on you, silent and deadly like a black viper. It had wiggled its way into your heart and settled there, causing it to hammer skip every time you were near him. You wanted to punch yourself for acting like a lovesick puppy because you were sure it was a one-sided thing and yet even as you laid in bed at night with thoughts racing and images of Steve flashing before closed lids, you couldn't turn your fucking brain off long enough to think clearly.

You and Steve were friends. Not just friends, either, but best friends. You spent so much time together it made Tony gag. Natasha couldn't stop obsessing over the two of you, constantly trying to prove that you were secretly dating. Even Bruce caught wind of the closeness of your supposedly platonic relationship and when he caught the two of you in the common room late one night doubled over in hysterical laughter, piles of blankets and fluffy pillows surrounding you on the couch you were sitting on, even he was convinced there was more going on than you were letting on.

As you were sitting on a tropical island, surrounded by the people that you cared for the most, a part of you wished there was. How nice it would be to experience a vacation at a fancy resort in the tropics with a romantic partner. You snorted, picking up your knife and fork while shaking your head. There was nothing going on between you and Steve and as far as he was concerned, there never would be. You were friends, after all, best friends at that, and there was no way that Steve could be interested in you in any other way. He was so perfect in every way and you were just, ordinary. Plain, a Big-Mac without toppings.

Dessert came before you even realized what was going on. You were buzzed at this point from all the cocktails you'd consumed and instead decided to order a glass of ice water to accompany the chocolate lava cake you had ordered. You only ate half, stomach feeling like it was going to burst at any point if you ate any more. Steve, being the gentleman he was, took the fact that you placed your spoon down as a sign and finished it for you.

"Y/N?"

You hadn't heard him coming.

He was standing behind you suddenly, shirt unbuttoned further than before and hair blowing in the wind that had started to pick up. Of course, it had been Tony's idea to host a private party after dinner in the club that was attached to the resort. Employees of SHIELD and the Avengers were dancing inside, booze flowing just as smoothly as the music. You'd stepped outside for only a moment in desperate need for some fresh air and time to think.

It was still warm outside, the soft breeze feeling wonderful on your slightly reddened skin.

"Hey," you said, elbows leaning on the railing that separated the resort from its private beach, "what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," he said smartly, offering you a sip of his sprite, "This is a nice place."

"It's beautiful," you mused, watching the gentle waves and the pearly white sands ahead.

"Yeah," Steve mumbled, "it is."

Seeing you in a white triangle bikini was the single most amazing thing Steve had ever seen. It had taken all his strength not to rip you from the beach and into your bungalow where he could kiss you and have you all to himself at last. The salty water had transformed your hair into waves, and the sun had kissed your skin and made you glow. You were on a towel on your stomach, book in front of you and sunglasses hiding your eyes. A bottle of sunscreen poked out of the tote bag you brought and a bottle of water stood perched up into the sand. It had to be warm by now, but you didn't care.

He loved seeing how much you enjoyed this. How naturally you adjusted to the change of pace, how you blended in with the scenery as if you'd always been there. He got to see a side of you he'd never seen before when you were in New York, where the rain seemed to permanently hang over the city. He loved how you interacted with people you were so used to seeing only at work, but this also made him jealous. He was used to being one of the only people you would hang out with in private but now, you'd practically been glued to everyone but him. How badly he wanted to take you out for a stroll on the beach alone or enjoy a cocktail with you with no-one else watching. Hell, he'd even dance for you at that club with the music he could hardly call music if it meant he got to spend more time with you alone.

He was playing volleyball again, on the beach this time. Half of your party had gone out on scooters for an island excursion, but not you. You had decided that your book was more important, and so you were reading the final chapter with the sun cascading on your back. He'd tried to get you to join him earlier, but once again, you'd declined. Not now, when you were so close to finishing the book. The main character was about to confess her love for the man she'd been chasing for years. She had finally built up the courage to tell him how she really felt. Her words caused your stomach to clench and your heart to pound. You had to know how it would end.

But even the most experienced of readers required a break every once in a while. You were hot, extremely hot and in desperate need of something to cool you off. Alas, the water you'd brought had warmed up, offering no relief from the constant heat blazing down on you. You got up, placing the book into your bag so it wouldn't get covered in the sand and stretched your limbs.

You looked around the beach for a while, noticing it was a lot quieter with half the staff gone for the day and exhaled, allowing a deep breath to escape your lungs while you began to jog across the hot sand.

"When are you going to tell her you're in love with her?" Tony asked with a smug smirk on his face and the ball in his hands.

Steve swallowed, catching the ball with ease.

"You're supposed to hit it back, not catch it and stand there like a dead guy," Tony commented, "Anyway, you dig her and for some reason, you're too afraid to just man up and tell her. Why?"

"Because," Steve said, "we're just friends."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Look, nothing's ever gonna change unless you act and you're an idiot if you think she doesn't feel the same way. Plus, I made a bet with Tash, so you better step up your game and get to it. Like, right now."

"Tony, I can't do that."

"Give me one good reason. Go on, I'm waiting." Another cocky smirk.

"We're coworkers."

Tony rolled his eyes, "Oh please, Fury doesn't give a shit and neither do I. Sign a couple of forms if you have to. Listen, pal if you don't make a move soon, someone else is bound to come in and sweep her off her feet and you'll be sorry forever."

Steve thought for a moment, watching as you walked further away from him and cursed Tony for being right. Again.

"She's the only one who can tolerate your shit, Rogers. Don't let her get away so easily."

Your feet were just touching the water when a hand around your upper arm stopped you from walking into the ocean. You'd ventured out to a more quiet area of the beach, where the only sound audible was the crashing of waves and seagulls over your head. You could still see your towel from where you stood, but the details had become blurry. Perfect.

"Hey," you said, voice sounding startled after you'd turned to look at whoever was holding you.

"I don't know why I allowed Tony of all people to convince me to do this, but I wouldn't be here if what he said to me didn't have a truth to it so I suppose it was for the best." Steve stammered, hands now on your shoulders as if to shield them from the sun.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, confused.

"Do you like me?" He asked, cheeks reddening more and more with each passing second. You couldn't tell through the darkness of your sunglasses, but he didn't know that.

"Of course I do Steve, you're my best-" He cut you off, testosterone and adrenaline taking over now.

"Not like that. Listen, you make me happy. Like, happy, happy. I don't mean the kind of happy that I get when I run into Sam at the gym and he has a fresh smoothie and a bagel for me, or when we successfully complete a mission and return home safely. It's not the kind of happy I get when I drink my favorite coffee, or when I see a dog at the park."

"What are you saying?" You whispered, eyes hidden by tinted glasses sliding across his face for any sign of fuckery.

There was none. You're suddenly painfully aware of the water swishing against your legs, aware of the grains of sand beneath your feet and his touch, which burned hotter than any sun in the universe could ever do. It's like you'd taken a step inside the book you were just reading.

"You make me feel things I haven't felt before, but want to feel all the time. I crave you when you're not there. The brush of your fingers, the softness of your voice and your laugh, Y/N, I need to hear it all the time and hell, I don't want to even think about having to share it with anyone else because I can't stand to bear the thought." He realized he was being dramatic, but he didn't care.

It disgusted him how easy it had been for Tony to convince him to tell you, but he was right. Walking on eggshells around you was ridiculous and even though Steve realized that being this honest could ruin everything in a matter of seconds, he also knew that lying was a habit he hated and he had been lying to himself for far too long by pretending to accept your friendship as the endstage.

Your hand was on his chest before he knew what was happening. A small smile played on your rosy lips, yet there was hesitation hidden behind those sunglasses. Hesitation, because what if the only reason why he said those words to you was because of a stupid bet? You were almost convinced of it, but his blue orbs told you the truth far better than any of his words could ever do. He was searching for confirmation, waiting for you to tell him you felt the same. Hell, they were begging you to say something, anything just to get the anticipation out of the way. It was like a horror movie, where you knew a jump scare was coming but you didn't know when.

"I do like you," you said finally, "more than dogs at the park."

An amused expression on your face allowed him to finally breathe again. Bright blue eyes still intensely scanned your face, just to make sure you too were telling the truth. He wasn't a walking lie detector - unlike Natasha - but he could tell you were honest.

"I want to take you out," more adrenaline, "properly. Not a coffee shop date, but a real date. With flowers and dinner."

Your heart clenched, second hand finding his chest, "I would like that."

It was hard to stand on the tip of your toes while being in the sand. You sank a little, so it kind of defeated the purpose, but still, you did your best to gain some height on the tall man in front of you. His piercing blues traveled across your shoulders, followed a trail of glimmering sunshine along your body and you sighed, almost fearful you ended up with a heat stroke and were currently delusional. Or drunk. Or both.

But his lips, salty from the ocean water he took in when he went under a while ago and soft, felt very fucking real. You could hardly believe it because did dreams really come true, but hell yeah they did, because you were in one right now and you were not asleep. You were kissing, mouth on mouth and it didn't stop there, because your tongue soon slipped in - you blamed the alcohol you had earlier for your sudden boldness. Blamed him too, for overwhelming you with it.

You didn't even care about the fact that Tony and some level 6 SHIELD employees were watching you guys make out on a private beach. Didn't give a damn about the fact that Tony picked up his phone to call Natasha about how she now owed him $200, or how your sunscreen was starting to wear off and your skin would soon turn red. You finally had Steve right where you wanted him, really had him now, and you didn't plan on letting go anytime soon.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #imagines #steve rogers imagines #captain america imagine #steve rogers #captain america #captain america smut #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel smut #marvel #avengers imagine #avengers smut #avengers imagines #steve rogers fic

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