#but only in the reflections of each others eyes.. and they’re sitting on a bench when the sun rises and finally… everything is alright | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waklman · 10 months

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the way bobby is so hot and doesn’t know it,,, the “oh yeah” and teasing him back making him stutter IM KICKING MY FEET!!!!! he’d be such a blushy mess whenever you call him pretty baby 🥺

im telling u…it’s something about shy men who don’t know they’re hot that just 😁 anyways here’s olympic swimmer bob getting shy for you

“This isn’t fair,” you draft a sigh, holding onto each end of the towel hanging around Bob’s neck.

Sitting on the plastic bench, the athlete only gives you a curious smile and gently curls his large hands around the back of your thighs, inviting you to stand in the space he’s made between his legs.

“What’s not fair?” He hums lowly, running his palms up and down the skin of your legs soothingly.

Another dramatic sigh slips when you notice that the blue hue in his eyes sparkles even brighter than the reflective surface of the pool behind him.

While your giant puppy of a boyfriend couldn’t fully understand why girls would yank at each other's hair to catch his attention—you understood them more than anyone.

Once, you even found yourself wanting to join in on the skirmish when they screamt because he was looking in your direction when you used to sit amongst them in the stands.

You two haven’t even been dating at that point, which only made you want him more back then. It’s a good thing that you have your own reserved spot on the bleachers now.

“Champ,” he laughs at the wistful look on your face, slightly tempted to kiss away your pout. “What’s not fair?” He sweetly prompts you again, pinching the flesh of your thigh instead.

Unintentionally, you start a study of his face, heart dully throbbing in your chest whenever your eyes land on another feature that makes him look so effortless.

There’s no way you weren’t dating a Greek God pretending to be an olympic swimmer to live out normalcy. The crows feet resting by the soft curl of his lashes can’t belong to a human. He’s not real. He can’t be.

“S’not fair that someone could look this good soaking wet.” Too caught in a trance by the delicate chisel of his jaw, the words tumble out your mouth without shame.

“Actually, I know someone who,” he starts, tongue lined with a dirty joke.

Bob barely gets the chance to throw it out, because you’re cutting him off through your haze.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” you finally confess, the iris of your eyes contorted into the shape of a heart.

After getting no answer from him, you snap out of it, hands dropping from his towel and the imaginary cupid’s arrow disappearing from your butt.

“Bobby? Are you oka—,” you stop to guffaw at how pink his entire body went. “You look like—like a tomato!” You say through a sputter of laughter, anchoring your hands onto his bare shoulders for support.

In front of you, Bob can't even bring himself to say a word while you catch your breath.

It’s nearly impossible to hide what your compliment does to him. Because it does a lot. Probably more than his body can physically take. With the amount of adrenaline rushing through his veins, he can probably dive back in and do another 200m swim.

In a desperate attempt to hide himself, Bob grabs your waist, stuffing his flushed face into your stomach. “Stop, please,” he whines into you.

Looking down at the top of his head, you massage his red shoulders.

“You’re pretty,” you repeat, wide grin stretched onto your face.

“Champ seriously, I—I can’t. stop.”

It’s reassuring to say the least, that you’re the only girl who could have the famous swimmer blushing like this.

#ears open #the last lap #the last lap asks

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little-cereal-draws · 5 months

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Details I noticed in Nimona pt 5

It was mentioned in this post on Instagram that Nimona was there in the crowd before the knighting ceremony. A person blocks her from view for a second and she emerges on the other side as a rat

In the video clip the news anchors play of baby Ballister hopping the fence, the Queen is there. She's sitting in a booth on the bottom right of the screen so she's slightly blocked by the crowd watching the news but she sits forward as Ballister runs in. The Director is in the upper right as she leads the class

During Ambrosius' introduction, there's a clip of him taking a selfie with a kid in the Glorodome. There are two men wearing red coats behind them who hug/lean into each other in a very couple-y pose. Are gay relationships ok here?

Ballister smiles when Ambrosius calls him "thinky face." At this point he hasn't even looked at him yet but Ambs can still make him smile

The knighting ceremony must have been done in alphabetical order by first name because that's the only way you would get Ambrosius and then Ballister right after each other

Ballister is definitely bleeding after the jumbotron falls. It looks like dirt in the shadows but he's got a huge scrape on his forehead that is red in the light

There's a reflective piece of glass or metal right by Ballister's work bench. You can see his reflection in it as he makes his arm and then Nimona's reflection as she sits in the chair, playing with the knife

The papers Nimona drew her "resume" on have the Institute logo on them. Somehow she got ahold of Institute letter paper lol

Everyone likes to talk about the symbolism of the eye highlights so here's something interesting. In the scene where Nimona declares herself his sidekick, Ballister's eye highlights are the same shape as hers. His highlights go back to squares in the next scene

A nice bit of character acting- Ballister holds his wounded shoulder as the knights shove him in the holding cell

I know people have already pointed out that you can see Nimona as a rat as the Director leaves his cell but there are also normal rats and you can hear them squeaking

Ballister's prosthetic has a ball at the top of it that mimics the ball and socket joint of the shoulder. That means that it would need something to attach to. He’s probably got a metal bit on his torso that the ball has to go into to be able to have the full mobility of a shoulder. Meaning… Ambrosius took off his arm and a chunk of his torso

As they’re walking past all the knights Nimona beat up during the jailbreak and she says “They were like this when I got here,” there’s a knight stuffed inside the vending machine and a sword sticking out of the filing cabinet

When Nimona’s cooking the mushrooms for the breakfast tacos, she breathes fire on them but her back is to the camera so that ability is still a surprise to the viewer later. You can tell it's her though because her fire is orange and the fire from the stove is blue

When Ballister takes the arrow out of Nimona's leg, she's sitting on an old car seat(?) and he's kneeling on the ground next to her with one leg up. He's got her injured leg resting across his knee. Idk maybe ppl already knew that but I always thought he was sitting on the seat next to her

The knight that Nimona points to when she says, "He just peed his armor, he peed his armor!" is the otter knight with the cast on his arm (rip that guy lol)

The Institute has a motto that's four words in Latin. It's on the Insitute's logo but is most visible when the Director does press conferences. It reads, "Trad?m?? Securitas ???????? ???????" (The bottom two words get cut off by the podium) I'm pretty sure it translates to "Keeping our way of life safe" which is the tagline on the picture of the Director Ballister has on his murder wall

After the Kingdom rebuilds, there's a shot of hover cars going in and out of the wall. On the wall, they've laid the stones to make a phoenix pattern

When Ballister hangs up Nimona's headphones when he's cleaning up the tower, her sunglasses are hung above them

pt one, pt two, pt three, pt four

#nimona #nimona movie #nimona 2023 #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #the director #queen valerin

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apocalypse-shuffle · 1 year

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light work w/ JASON•T & DICK•G

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this is part of the “long overdue” series

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Jason follows a ways behind Nightwing in silence right after they’ve flung themselves over the first building.

Pretense of playful riffing over and done with there’s just…nothing.

Nothing to talk about - or too much to pack into their relatively short journey from The Hill to the cave - and nothing to do but focus.

He swallows down the stiffness in his throat when the thought that a different less tainted less damaged him and Nightwing would’ve made a game out of this. Joked with each other. Laughed.

The reflection he catches of himself in the window of a yellow cape catching the air makes him cut that whole string of thinking.

Jason lands on paved stone in silence and watches Dick get another swing in before activating his coms. The separate unit could only be used sparingly (too easy to attach onto the frequency) but Jason wouldn’t need it to work that long.

He rolls his left ankle, testing the stiffness while waiting for his contact to pick up. It’s mild at best. He’s sure he wouldn’t have even noticed it until he was in his apartment if he hadn’t dropped so specifically as to not catch Nightwing’s attention.

Jason’s just gotten on the line with one of “his people”, a runner who he only bothered to remember the name of because they’d stay useful, when Nightwing finally catches on that it’s only one grapple he’s hearing.

The man retracts his grapple and does a series of flips to land on a roof four buildings away. Jason absentmindedly rolls his eyes while instructing Mensa on what cache to slip into. He’ll have to burn that safe house but he needed out of the area anyway. The clock tower was gone but that didn’t negate the fact that people now thought of The Hill as implicitly bat territory.

He’s instructing where he wants Mensa to leave his equipment when Nightwing finally decides to come over to him despite the way Jason cuts a hand through the air to wave him off.

“Bats, I swear,” he grunts. He tests his ankle one more time to get rid of the crink and watches Nightwing run over.

“What?”

He has enough time to turn his head and prattle off: “Nothing. Just do what I said.”

The vigilante lands in front of him nearer the edge of the roof from Jason’s position in the middle as the call disconnects.

“But you didn’t say anything?”

The other’s voice lilts upward at the end and Jason schools his face, letting himself scoff. He runs his hand through his bangs to swipe the com unit out as he does so.

“Course I didn’t, I couldn’t choose just one.”

Nightwing lets his head tilt, still lost but not nearly as much as he’s letting on. Jason answers his unspoken question anyway.

“They’re not enough words in the English lexicon to describe how annoying you are, Dickhead. I got distracted.”

He doesn’t wait for whatever playact his reaction will be, throwing himself off the building and shooting his line in a slightly altered direction.

Of course Nightwing follows him but it’s not like Jason can’t work around his tag along.

He doesn’t start talking to him again but the man’s gaze setting his back on fire feels even more analytical than his words would have.

Jason grumbles to himself about it but is otherwise perfectly content to let the problem be one of the future. Preferably not his future, but when has Jason ever gotten what he wants?

Jason would never let the other know, but the face he makes when Jason drops down to the street a few blocks later and there’s conveniently a helmet sitting all snug for him on a bus bench is kind of worth the harassment.

He has to tamp down with his jaw until he slips the apparatus on so he won’t laugh right in his face. The helmet’s speaker systems keep his mirth strictly for Jason’s ears only.

His shaking probably gives him away regardless, but he covers it up by letting Nightwing come to his own conclusion that Jason is only taunting him.

And his conclusion’s not wrong per say but - you know? - Jason’s not going to tell him that.

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NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! This takes place in between part one and part two before the guys get to the Cave.

I’ma be honest with y’all I don’t know if the clock tower was located in The Hill during War Games but I do know that I’m tired of looking for the answer. It doesn’t matter anyway I can do whatever the fuck I want.

Is this a little more than 500 words? Yes. But I made the rules and as such I can break them.

Edit: edited this bitch and now it’s 700+ words ????? (pretend it’s 500 tho)

also leave a comment I like them, I just won’t respond cause this is a side blog

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theclaravoyant · 8 months

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Fluff prompt #15 + ineffable partners???

15. "I wouldn't trade you for all the stars in the sky"

AN ~ that's the thing I'm sensitive about !!! This is distinctly more hurt/comfort than fluff, but I swear it's heavy on the comfort. Set Post-S2/post-canon, established relationship. Read on AO3 (~800wd) prompt me

The planetarium show opens with what he has to assume the humans are using ironically: in the Beginning. Crowley leans over and whispers something about “having it on good authority…” and Aziraphale has to chuckle. He swats Crowley on the arm, and leaves his hand there, and if it gradually makes its way to being intertwined with his then well, that’s just a bonus isn’t it.

This is nice, he thinks, being an us.

But he has a feeling that’s not what causes Crowley’s running commentary to die on his ever-snarky lips as the humans weave their stories about the stars and the telescopes and rockets and the formation of the Earth and the heat death of the universe. Space dances around them in the highest definition and farthest-reaching images that have yet reached the human eye. By the time the show is wrapping up Crowley is staring, silent, reverent. Naked yellow eyes, positively enraptured.

“They’re bloody brilliant, aren’t they?” he murmurs.

Aziraphale longs to capture this moment. He could sit in it forever.

The house lights have other plans.

“We should-”

“Right. Yes.”

Crowley’s eyes snap away and hide as he clumsily shoves the dark lenses back onto his face and all but charges out of the room. Aziraphale’s heart seizes, and he can only follow, brushing through thank-yous and vague excuses for missing the impending canapes and he’s not sure what to say- not sure what to say- not sure what to say. He’s always been so clumsy with intimate moments and he’s quite sure it’ll kill him if he somehow makes this worse.

He catches up with Crowley, where else but the Bentley. He’s waiting outside of it, on a nearby bench, safely obscured behind his glasses even as the long stretch of a mirror-like water feature ahead of him reflects a black and blue and sparkling night.

“Sorry,” he says, barely looking as Aziraphale comes to take a seat. “Didn’t mean to leave you alone in there I just- I haven’t seen them like that in quite a while.”

Aziraphale frowns. “How long might that be?”

“Well.” Crowley waves a hand. “The light’s a little strange with these things, you know, and they’ve never been very good with distance.”

Aziraphale has a terrible feeling, a terrible knowing, that he’s not talking about the glasses.

“Oh, Crowley.”

“There’s no need for all that, angel,” Crowley insists. “Honestly. It’s a very old wound. It just took me a little bit by surprise.”

Part of Aziraphale wants to gush love and apologies and try and heal that innocent little angel with the tuft of red hair. Another firmly reminds him that he’s promised (himself, more so than Crowley) not to bring up who Crowley insists he isn’t and doesn’t want to be. Mostly though he’s more than a bit shocked, a bit hurt, a bit sorry that he somehow didn’t know that all this time. They’ve really got to stop doing this to each other.

But then Crowley smiles. It’s a smaller smile, but it brings a bit of sparkle back that had been temporarily chased away.

“Actually I can sort of see it in ultra-violet instead, which is pretty cool. Can I show you?”

He offers his hand and Crowley takes it. They take a deep breath together and a miracle works, and the world fades and changes around him. It looks mistier like this. A strange and beautiful blue. It reminds him of somehow standing under an ocean rather than a sky, the pinpoint lights don’t stand out so much but rather merge and combine and gently glow, swirling around them like the softest fabric.

They let the breath out, and it is gone. The sky rearranges itself to the way Aziraphale is more familiar with it. His chest aches a little, bittersweet.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes.

“Yes.” Crowley still hasn’t let go of his hand, or his smile. “See? I told you. I’m alright.”

Aziraphale shifts in his seat so that he can lean a little more against Crowley’s chest. He rests his head back. Their breathing is the only sound for a long stretch, until some waterfowl alight in the reflection of the sky. He’s always been clumsy with intimate moments. But something - surely not The Spirit - compels him eventually to speak.

“I never meant to imply that you were not.” He swallows. “Or - I suppose I did, but I only ever wanted to help. But I understand now. I never meant to undo you or change you or… I mean, I never wanted you to go back to being them. I only wanted you to be happy. Safe, as much as I could make you.”

Alright.

It’s something that’s been understood between them better for a long while now but still, something heals putting the words to it. “I only ever wanted you, Crowley,” he vows. “I wouldn’t trade you for all the stars in the sky.”

#aziracrow #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands #good omens #gomens fic #prompt me stuff #clara's fic tag #@ just a funny i've MISSED writing fic for you <3

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howdoyoudothedew · 4 months

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Cardin (Little Miss Perfect)

Rated: G

Pairing: Archester (Jaune Arc/Cardin Winchester)

Word Count: ~700

Despite having blackmailed Jaune, Cardin was rarely ever alone with him. As was his own plan. If he ignored Jaune as much as possible, he could ignore the way his heart fluttered around him like something small and weak. Cliched. Falling for the straight guy. Even after they formed a weird friendship, after Jaune stood up to him, after Cardin apologized, he kept that space. Still, they end up alone in Cardin’s team dorm, at the little bench he’d set up next to the window within his first week at Beacon so he could watch the stars. Neither of them are in armour. Like they can actually trust each other enough to be vulnerable. Though Cardin knows it’s only because it is night. As soon as Jaune leaves this room, he’ll probably get ready for bed even if he won’t sleep. A socked foot nudges his own. Cardin looks up to see Jaune standing over him. Wisps of blonde frame his face unevenly and the lights from outside play in his eyes like glowing stars. There’s a chuckle. A smile much softer than Cardin could ever deserve gets directed down at him. His body warms, spreading out from his chest and into his extremities like a campfire. Jaune tilts his head and his hair brushes his collarbone.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” Jaune’s voice isn’t accusatory. If anything, it’s amused. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “Am I not entertaining enough? Do I have to get you to blackmail me again?”

Cardin snorts. A harsh, inelegant sound that makes Jaune’s smile widen so Cardin can see the incisor that grew in crooked. Whatever breath that’s in his lungs feels like it gets stuck there. Jaune’s eyes are closed. He reaches out and his hands grip onto the collar of Jaune’s shirt. There’s a confused noise from Jaune, but it gets cut off as Cardin pushes up at the same time he pulls Jaune down. Their lips connect. His brain blocks everything out except the pressure. Except warmth. They're soft. They’re chapped and smooth in uneven patches. Just as Cardin figured they’d be from all the times he’s seen Jaune biting at them. Once they part, the air stuck in Cardin’s lungs finally releases. Opposite it a shaky breath is taken. Cardin’s eyes snap open and all he can see is his own reflection in Jaune’s wide eyes as Jaune stares down at him.

Every bit of warmth leaves at once. He pushes Jaune away hard. No no no. This isn’t something he can do. He can’t. It’s not- It’s not good, it’s not worth it, he won’t be the gay guy who falls for the straight guy. He won't be. He can’t be. Love isn’t even anything he really knows, not like this. Jaune looks confused and Cardin turns his head to look out the window. “Get out.”

“Car-”

“Get out!” Cardin barks. It’s quiet for a moment, an audible indicator of Jaune’s hesitation, before footsteps and the door closing. The second it does Cardin curls into himself. The glass is cold where he presses his side to it. He breathes deeply until it stops hitching oddly.

In the quiet he drifts. Eventually the door opens behind him again, but he’s not clear on how much time passed. It feels like a lot. At the same time, it doesn’t feel like enough. He doesn’t look over. The possibility is so low because of his actions tonight, but he doesn’t want to take the chance Jaune actually came back. A hand settles on his shoulder. He glances at it just enough to see chipped, sparkly silver nail polish. Like a balloon he deflates.

“Cardin?” Russel asks.

“What did I do?” Is all Cardin can say. There are no tears in his eyes nor emotion in his voice. When Russel sits down next to him and wraps an arm around his shoulders, Cardin leans into him.

#rwby #jaune arc #cardin winchester #archester #link writes #light angst

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sidewingho · 1 year

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snippet from post-canon akeshu reunion fic i still hope to finish one day (◡‿◡✿)

The bench is cold. It’s the kind of cold that seeps past layers upon layers of clothes and makes Goro question whether it may actually be wet. But Akira’s sitting next to him, seemingly unbothered, so Goro pushes his concerns away. He stares ahead and pretends not to watch the mist of breath that floats out each time Akira exhales.

A finger swipes against his cheek. It takes him a second to register what just happened, and he goes rigid once he does.

Apparently unaware of Goro’s sudden career shift into performance art—namely impersonating statues with a dying, trapped soul—Akira calmly says, “You have freckles.”

Heat spreads rapidly from the point of contact, frazzling Goro’s brain and rendering him incapable of speech.

Akira takes his silence in stride. He doesn’t say anything, so Goro can’t not turn to look at him.

He’s met with a hint of a smile and bright eyes, and, oh, Goro will have to quickly get used to the fact that Akira no longer wears glasses or he’ll run the real risk of fainting every time he looks at his bare face.

“Did you always have them?” Akira says and lifts his hand again, fingers drawing closer—as if he’s just going to casually touch Goro again.

Goro leans back on instinct and covers his face with his own hand. He can feel his traitorous skin torching underneath his palm. “I—yes—ever since I was young.” Goro internally curses. He thought he’d grown out of stammering years ago. Trust Akira to reduce him to a babbling idiot within minutes.

Akira’s hand is still hovering near him, and he’s staring at Goro unabashedly, pinning him to the spot. “It’s the first time I’ve noticed them.”

“I hid them,” Goro blurts out. Whatever, it’s not like he hasn’t shared more personal things in the past. “Talk shows, well, any media outlets—they want you to have a spotless complexion.” His teenage years were composed of endless tasks: detective work, interviews, schoolwork, and assassinations, among other things. Adding an hour in his already busy schedule to apply a full face of makeup was just another daily annoyance he simply had to deal with.

He used to cake on concealer and foundation to cover his ever-present freckles and grey circles. He used to have a near breakdown every time a new pimple formed. He used to check available mirrors any chance he had to ensure his makeup was still intact.

Nowadays he only really uses a mirror to check his teeth and anything glaringly disgusting on his person. Acne still isn’t fun, but he can’t be pressed about something that’s natural and out of his hands.

Akira finally puts his hand down, thank god, so Goro puts his hand down as well. He knows his face must still be red, if the sweat forming under his scarf is to go by. He wonders if Akira’s too polite or too dense to point it out.

“It’s cute,” Akira says (dense then, and making it everyone else’s problem), unknowingly almost killing Goro a second time in the time they’ve been sitting here. “I like them.”

They’re just freckles. He doesn’t even give them a passing thought anymore, forgetting they exist now that he refuses to stare at his reflection for too long. But the way Akira says it, it makes Goro so damn happy he has these dots scattered across his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he mutters. “I like them too.”

#my writing #long post #akeshu #shuake #i posted this on my twitter maybe a year ago. maybe two? whichever it is it's been too long for this wip christ #that i still haven't been able to get back into but want to one day #i deleted my twitter account last month so you won't find me there

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triple-fanged-threat · 2 months

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Kai Huan - Biography

Is that LEE DO-HYUN? No, that’s KAI HUAN. The 30 year old AIR VAMPIRE ALPHA MALE is a THEATER PROFESSOR. If you ask their friends, they’re known to be CAREFREE & UNPREDICTABLE, but beware, they’re also known to be AMORAL & DEVIOUS. Can you believe they’re from THE PAST? Me either.

tw: physical + sexual abuse; murder; death

Life is so much more fun when you just don’t care anymore. That was the lesson Kai learned early on.

His life was never smooth sailing. When he was born, the young vampire quickly realized that he was never meant to exist. Neither of his parents wanted to raise a young vampire like him and decided that it would have been better if he hadn’t been around at all. Kai was therefore the perfect candidate for both of them to take out any of their frustrations they had against each other. The young boy was quite familiar with pain and various forms of abuse, with his father going so far as to use sunlight to burn him when one of his fathers was feeling particularly sadistic and angry.

In order to preserve himself, the young boy learned to seal away his emotions deep inside his chest. Locked deep away like a safebox hidden underneath his heart, Kai became quite numb and oblivious to all the things that were being done to him. Of course, it only meant that his parents viewed him like a broken toy, no longer making the same cries of pain that they so enjoyed hearing. Deciding that he was unfit to be around them anymore, his other father decided to sell him away for a hefty price. If he wasn’t a usable toy, then at least he could help make some profit. And that was how Kai was shipped away to be the personal assistant to the ringleader of a circus troupe.

The ringleader was an equally cruel man, taking advantage of Kai as a young, fresh-faced boy. The fact that he was a vampire only made it that much more fun to toy around and experiment with what would make him curl up in pain. Night after night, the young vampire learned all the things that would satisfy and please the man in charge. It was the only thing he knew, locked away in the main tent like some animal. But on one fortuitous night, the ringleader forgot to keep Kai locked away during the big performance. Curious as to all the pretty colors and whimsical sounds, the young vampire snuck in to take a peek at the performance. And what he saw dazzled and amazed him.

His eyes glittered with fascination as he saw just how beautiful the circus troupe was. The colors, the sights, the scents. Everything from the performers putting on great feats of acrobatics and strength to the clowns donning various masks to evoke feelings of laughter, fear, and sadness from the crowd. It was all so mesmerizing for the young man, and inside the pain-filled mind of his, something snapped. Why take everything so seriously and endure the pains of life when you could have so much fun like this? Kai couldn’t help the soft giggle of elation that slipped past his lips, his eyes glazing over as if he were in a trance. Life would be so much more fun like this. He wanted to have fun.

When his eyes slowly cleared again, the vampire saw that the main tent was bathed in red. Amidst his bloodlust, he had slaughtered everyone in the tent. The audience, the performers, the ringleader, the animals. Everything that could breathe was dead. And Kai couldn’t help but enjoy just how pretty it all looked. So this was what it was like to have fun. Wiping his mouth from the blood that coated his lips, the young man packed up what little belongings he had and walked away without looking back.

Over the years, Kai developed quite a reputation for himself. Becoming adept with adopting various personas, he never let anyone see the true reflection of himself. He wasn’t even sure what that was at this point. But what he did know was that he enjoyed having fun, and the hungry vampire wasn’t going to let anyone stop him from having his fun. Sometimes, it was just sitting by the park bench, eating some sweets and watching the sunset. Other times, it meant killing the next ten people who looked at him funny in the most gruesome, yet artistic ways possible. His unpredictability and unclear persona always made it hard to pin down just who was performing such fearsome crimes.

And just when life was starting to become a bit dull for him, Kai felt himself being whisked away by some strange time portal. The vampire didn’t understand what was happening, nor did he understand where he ended up. Some new town, unlike anything he had seen before. A place called New Haven, where people like him would look out for each other. Or at least, that he was told. To be honest, Kai was barely listening. All he could see were plenty of new people to have some fun with. It looked like they were just taking life a bit too seriously, and Kai wanted some more playmates. Life was always more fun that way. Wouldn’t you agree?

#biography #wtnhintro

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bridgyrose · 1 year

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Grettings and Slutations, Bridgy! Might I possibly, maybe, remotely pretty please request some more of Blind!Weiss?

Blake came to in a large warehouse, her head pounding from the smoke induced headache. Her body shook as she looked around, eyes hesitating on her reflection. Her clothes had been changed out for a White Fang uniform with a mask sitting next to her on the ground. The last few hours had felt like a blur to her, lungs still burning with each breath. Her voice sounded hoarse as she spoke. “Anyone there?”

The room was silent for a few moments before the door to the office she was held in finally opened, a familiar voice ringing through her ears as her body went stiff.

“Its good to see you again, my darling.”

“A-Adam…”

Adam walked in and closed the door behind him, a smirk crossing his lips as he looked Blake over. “Just when I thought I had lost you forever, a human came knocking on my door to let me know that he had found my prize. I told you I wasnt going to let you go.”

A chill ran up the back of Blake’s neck at being called a prize, ears twitching as she listened to the sounds of footsteps outside her door. “I told you I didnt want anything to do with this anymore. We’re not being respected, only feared!” She paused for a moment and looked away. “Besides, why are you working with a human? You hate humans.”

“The human I’m working with has a few similar goals as I do.” Adam made his way over to Blake and gently caressed her cheek with a gentle hand. “She also promised that you’d be mine again. And I think its safe to say that she’s delivered on that promise.”

Blake quickly retracted from Adam’s hand, then winced as she felt the sting of a slap against her cheek. She tried to move her arms, hands bound against the chair she was in. “I wont be yours!”

Adam nodded and started to make his way out of the room, pausing as he opened the door. “If you ever want to leave this place, you wont have a choice.”

“My friends will come find me-”

“Your friends? You mean the Schnee that hates you and the Blonde that stayed with her? Or do you mean the human that was with you? Little Red isnt going to be able to help you, she cant even help herself. Face it, no one is going to care that you’re missing and no one is going to come help you.”

Blake’s ears folded as she watched Adam leave, her thoughts turning towards Ruby from what Adam had said. She hated the idea that someone had gotten hurt because of her, someone that she could consider as a friend. Her eyes went back to the White Fang mask sitting on the ground, her body trembling more as she slowly reached for it with her foot.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weiss quietly paced outside the elevator to Ozpin’s office, her cane tapping around in front of her to make sure she didnt hit any of the furniture or other students that came and went. Everything had gone so wrong so quick and she still hadnt quite understood how. Sure, she was technically at fault for having yelled at Blake, but that didnt mean she had to run off with Ruby and get herself taken who knows where.

The elevator dinged and she paused for a brief moment to tap her cane against the wall to make sure she hadnt been in the way of the elevator. She struggled to push her aura out to see who was coming off, her heart skipping a beat as she saw the outline of Yang. “How’d it go?”

“He cant help us.” Yang made her way to a bench and dropped with a heavy sigh. “We dont know much about what’s going on and while he’s sure they’re in trouble, we cant follow if we dont know where they were taken. To make matters worse, since the dock is already under police investigation, if we interfere with anything they’re doing, we’ll get expelled.”

“So our options are to get expelled or do nothing and wait?”

“Pretty much.”

Weiss sighed and leaned against the wall and tucked her cane to her left hip. “Then… we dont have a choice. If we get expelled, we get expelled.”

Yang paused and looked over at Weiss. “Are you serious? I thought you couldnt risk that.”

“I still cant, but… you’re right.” Weiss gently thumbed her cane and closed her eyes. “I was a bit… harsh on Blake and I could’ve done things better. When we find her, then I can have that chance to make things right.”

“And how do you expect to find her?”

“I dont know… yet. I’m sure if we do a little looking around-”

“I think I know where she went,” Sun said.

Weiss quickly raised her cane at the new voice, not quite glaring in his direction. “Who are you?”

“Down Weiss, let’s hear him out before you attack him.” Yang sighed and gently pressed on Weiss’s cane to lower it. “And were you eavesdropping on us?”

“No, I just happened to come by and hear you guys talking,” Sun answered.

Weiss rolled her eyes and spoke under her breath. “So you were eavesdropping.”

Sun smirked and pulled out his scroll to pull up a picture of a warehouse. “But I know where the airship you’re looking for went. Its over at an abandoned warehouse at the edge of the industrial district. I would’ve gone after those two myself, but its crawling with White Fang.”

Yang looked at the picture and nodded. “And you’re sure this is where they’re at.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Sun said as he motioned with his tail.

Yang nodded and grabbed Sun by his collar to drag him. “Great, then you’re coming with. And then you’ll have to explain how you knew what we were talking about.”

#rwby #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #sun wukong #drabbles #blind weiss redux au #blind weiss redux

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bethiewhimsy · 2 years

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happy birthday, moxie !!

@neonganymede, it isn’t much, but i hope you enjoy this little something i wrote for you! you deserve an incredible birthday! i hope this at least makes you smile <3

i wrote you a little ranpoe !! i also made it a little ‘summer date’ vibe, because your birthday’s in early june and there is literally nothing fluffier than a summertime date wjsiiskwks ive never written for the lads before, so i hope it’s all right! i wrote it to resemble one of those rom-com montages yk?? i hope you enjoy!

they’re sitting knee to knee on the train; ranpo oblivious as to how to get to where they are going, poe oblivious as to where they are going.

it’s quiet between them and it’s comfortable, yet awkward, and poe’s dissociating the entire ride while ranpo empties his pocketfuls of sweets.

some minutes later, the locomotive finally stops and poe is quick to drag ranpo into the summer air. it’s humid and the sun is bright, but ranpo seems happy enough with the weather, so poe finds that he is too.

“okay!” ranpo chirps, making a big scene of looking around. “show me the way to the market!”

“ranpo, i do not know where the market is.”

“of course you don’t.” ranpo tuts, but he’s already grasping poe’s hand to pull him along. “i suppose we’ll happen upon it sometime.”

ranpo’s sounding irritated, but it’s light and fun, the way that poe secretly loves.

poe lets himself be swept along down the streets.

they walk awhile underneath the trees, karl dancing about their feet, the breeze dancing in their hair, and their hands still intertwined. it’s a warmness they both miss when they are absent of each other.

“i must lend you my new collection of poetry.” poe says, a small smile accompanying the small blush on his cheeks.

ranpo whines, swaying their arms. “i’d much rather a mystery! poetry is so dull.”

“i was hoping you’d read it anyway.” poe replies softly. “it’d be important to me.”

ranpo huffs, rolling his eyes. but it’s the same irritation as before, fun and light, and poe smiles a little more. he knows ranpo will read it. he knows even still that he will cherish it.

they stop by the park, just so ranpo can stick his hands in the fountains’ waters, playfully splashing droplets at karl. poe doesn’t mind it when ranpo buries his wet hands in his hair, mussing his silky locks out of his face. as they stare for the fraction of a second into each other’s eyes, poe swears he has never seen a soul so beautiful.

they wander out of the park, their hearts a little warmer.

ranpo steers off the path and to the ice cream stand that caught his eye. poe only slightly stumbles along after him.

poe ends up paying for ranpo’s triple scoop cone, a cup of one scoop for karl, and a popsicle for himself.

ranpo perches on the nearest bench and poe sits gingerly beside him. karl’s ice cream is already a little melted, but that does not detour him from burying his little snout into the treat.

the frozen treats weren’t near as refreshing as the kiss the two shared; with chilled, sweet lips that couldn’t stop the laughs that tumbled out from in between them. chocolate and citrus, a heavenly pair.

ranpo speaks of his colleagues, poe speaks of his writing; they both speak of the mystery of life, of love, of loss.

they wander amongst the people and their homes, trees and streets, the breeze seems to drift them along, hand-in-hand, never wanting the sun to set.

the sun still sets and it’s still beautiful.

ranpo’s admiring the colors reflecting off the world around them. brilliantly, boldly.

poe watches the radiance. the sky he lives beneath, the man that makes it worth living under.

#i kept it short and sweet (maybe a little too so)#this was rlly sweet to write #i love them your honor #i suck so bad at dialogue rip #i hope you like it moxie !!! happy birthday!!!

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awrldalone · 2 years

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10th June 2022, 9.47pm

I am eating a shattered fortune cookie on the floor of my bathroom. My sister has just returned from a sushi dinner with my father and the slip of paper tells me that my pace is very strong. The sweet plasticky taste of the cookie lingers in my mouth.

I have a lot to say tonight. A lot to tell. A lot of memories I need to write down as they’re still fresh. It’s only been a week yet the corners of the pictures are fading. Water damage, I guess.

Last Thursday, I was happy for a few hours. After waking up, my gut full of love and anticipation, I started washing fruits, packing for a picnic; I shaved, meticulously analyzing my body and comparing it to the twisted idea that I have of it from the last time I shaved fully. It was a month prior, it was also before seeing M.

I always feel bigger than what I used to be; my reflection always feels more carnal, every time I look at it I gain substance, both in a bad way and in a good way. My ass definitely looked rounder, softer, and I thought that I hoped he would notice, and that I hoped he would like it.

All clean, I left the house. My bag was heavy, the bottle of rosato - I thought it was rosé, his favorite, but once he saw the pink sparkly wine he laughed like he only does, and he said it was not rosé, at least not the real kind; I liked this sunset-colored prosecco better, though - was cold and the cover of my copy of The Virgin Suicides was starting to get wet. I bought him flowers. I was scared all the stores would be closed because of Republic Day, and they were, but a man in a cap was selling fresh flowers underneath a tree.

I got colorful ones, small little buds, tiny petals. I prefer the flowers that look wild; ideally I would have gotten him daisies, his favorite, but they do not sell them this time of year.

The bus came late. I was at the airport early. Checking the arrivals timetable frenetically, incessantly, I waited. Next to me another boy, with a prettier bouquet of flowers, was standing patiently. Fortunately, his girlfriend arrived before M. I listened to the conversations of a bleach-blonde lady in her fifties who was waiting for a group of American tourists and a man with thin dark-brown hair holding a sign written in Chinese. They said nothing. They complained. I did not register their words. His red shirt was the first thing I saw, in the corner of my left eye.

And I hugged him. He held me tight, I wanted to be held tighter, I wanted him to never leave, I wished his arms never untied from my waist. Once we pulled apart, like a ripe peach, he smiled. I like his teeth, pearly and joyous. I offered him the flowers. It was the first time someone had ever done it, and I knew it and I wanted to be the first to do it. After all, he came all the way here for me.

He seemed taller, and I realized it was because I was not wearing my platform shoes. The bus arrived twenty minutes later, while we sat on a wooden bench, and his head rested on my shoulder. His curls tickled my neck, he slightly smelled of salt, sweat, laundry detergent. We held hands. I held his he held mine we held hands. Even when we sat next to each other, he laid his hand on top of mine, he laid his forearm on top of mine, saying he wanted to feel more of me. I had waited, I had dreamt for a whole month for that moment. To feel his heat, his mellow skin.

The park was sunny, and we found a tree to sit under. I unpacked my back, displaying the picnic I had prepared. The French have a verb for having a picnic. Pique-niquer. It sounds funny when I say it out loud.

He does not like Italian bread. He likes pistachios, I love pistachios, he loved the wine, I liked the hummus. We cuddled on the grass, despite the fact I had brought my bedsheets there. His heartbeat was strong, real, and everything lead me to his mouth. It is much easier to describe what fingertips feel rather than the thoughts racing through my head. The longing for more, and for nothing more than what I had. The fear of losing everything, the fear of his shirt slipping through my fingers, or the grass disappearing from beneath us. The need to let that moment be crystallized in eternity. Like an insect in amber resin.

He asked if he could treat me to a drink in Venice, with enacted gallantry, funny over-formal manners, and I said yes. I cleaned up everything, he threw away the trash – a boy stopped us, and my heart sank. Because what if he saw us? What if he was about to punch us, him, me, call us faggots, tell us not to do that shit on the street? I clenched my jaw. He spoke Spanish, then Italian, then English, and all he wanted to ask was whether M. was single, because his friend, a girl hidden behind a tree, was interested.

My stomach felt heavy. He said that he was not interested. We laughed about it later, because did that guy not see us cuddling?

And then I tripped on my own feet. We were walking on a bridge, the one that connects the park to the tram station to get to Venice, and I asked him. I wanted to do it at the airport, but I had not had the guts to do it. It felt like the perfect moment, right there: he had his flowers in his hand, the sun shone on him, painting him warm colors and making my words look sparkly. I asked him to be my boyfriend.

He said no. I held my breath, the blood pumping in my temples, my eyes immediately running away from him because he suddenly was shining too bright for my sight. My lips were glued together.

He explained himself. He said it was because of distance, because of the future, because it was uncertain what would be of us next year. He said he would have asked me in a few days, after receiving the results from the French universities we applied to, because he was not sure he could deal with us being so distant, and seeing each other so rarely. I said I understood, and even thought I did not, because in that moment I would have risked it, I would have wanted him to be my boyfriend despite everything, despite the rational response, I stayed quiet and let the subject drop. I did not want to ruin our time together.

The results for our applications came out that day. On the tram, he checked his account, and he got accepted or waitlisted in a lot of his choices. I could not check, since I had forgotten my password, which was saved on my laptop.

By the time we got to the hostel he was spending the night in, it was already eleven p.m. He was so sleepy, his eyes were cute and sweet. He kissed me before going to his room, and he left the bouquet with me, keeping only a few flowers, which I still have. They dried like pink tissue paper. I threw the rest in a bin; not in a mean manner, not in the heartbroken anger that should have filled my heart, but rather in the pure practicality of having to go back home.

I checked my results, still fully dressed, my shoes dirty on the floor. I applied to only one university. And I got rejected. So that means I am going to the Netherlands next year. I started at the white screen until my eyes ached, waiting for the tears to come.

My bed was cold and lonely that night.

-c.

#diary

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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The Brother's Keeper

A Dick Grayson and Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, References to Past Abuse

Author's Note: Another story edited and re-posted! Enjoy! -Thorne

Despite having not lived at the manor for almost a decade, she still knew every hallway and room like the back of her hand, every sound was a familiar net of reassurance she could count on. The hum of the hidden wall closing behind her, the creaking of the third step from the top that they always avoided, the clicking the bats above made. She descended the steps into the cave, balancing the heavy manila files in one hand, the other holding two protein shakes, knowing her father probably hadn’t consumed nutrition in at least a few hours since he called her.

Her eyes fell on him where he sat at the Batcomputer; he’d changed out of his suit and was in a pair of joggers and a long sleeve shirt. She walked over, setting the files down beside the keyboard. “Here’s the files you asked about, dad. I alphabetized them too…and color tabbed ‘em but that’s not important.”

He glanced at her with a warm smile before nodding and turning back to the screen. “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you doing so.”

She leaned an arm on the back of the chair, propping her chin on his shoulder as she stared at the screen. “New antidote for Scarecrow’s toxin?”

“He’s synthesized a new formula, so I need to make a new antidote in case anyone gets gassed,” he replied, tapping at the screen until the numbers were apparently in approval with whatever he was thinking about—who knew.

She hummed, taking note of the lack of noise. “Where’re the chuckle-heads?”

He chuckled and tipped his head towards the locker room. “They put their suits away and went to change.” She nodded again and patted his shoulder before walking off in the direction of the room.

When she got there, she didn’t see them, but she could hear them harking on one another in the locker room, and she moved in that direction. She stepped into the room and took in the image of the four of her brothers standing in front of the mirrors in their underwear, pointing at each other like they were shocked to see the other.

“Do I even want to know?” she asked, unblinkingly.

Their heads shot up and they saw her; Dick greeted, “(Y/N)! What are you doing here? You usually don’t come to the manor.”

(Y/N) shrugged and stepped inside, taking a seat on one of the cool metal benches. “Dad needed some files over a few previous encounters I’ve had with galactic enemies. And me being here brings me back to my original question.” She gestured to them with a wave of a hand, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you guys in your tighty-whities?”

They snorted, and Jason turned around. “We’re comparing scars.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’. “Of course, you are.” She paused for a second and observed them. “Who’s got the gnarliest one?” Immediately, they pointed at Damian who simply motioned to his chest, and she looked at the faded scar that rested over his heart.

A frown instantly drew her lips, and Damian, being ever so vigilant, caught it and shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, sister. You tried to save me.”

She met his eyes and murmured, “I didn’t try hard enough.” She glanced at Jason, seeing the scars line his chest, her voice just as soft. “For either of you.”

Jason’s lips pulled downwards, and he walked over, sitting on the bench beside her. “The fact that you tried is good enough for us, Queenie.” He reached out, patting her head.

She sighed and shook it off, giving them a smile before she turned to Tim. “Any on you Nerd-bird?”

He grinned and turned around, running his hand along a scar that rested along the left side of his ribs. “When I fought Ra’s, he got me right here.”

(Y/N) looked at it, then leaned back, a curious look in her eye. “Other than dad, aren’t you the only person he’s called ‘detective’?” Tim gave her a firm nod and she pulled a grin, nodding at him. “Look at the Nerd-bird kicking all our asses in the game. I’m proud of you.” He gave her a sheepish smile and she turned to Dick. “We’ve all had brushes with death, but I don’t think you have a lot of noticeable ones. Which is surprising because out of all of us, you’re the most reckless.”

The others laughed while Dick glared at her, then he shrugged and showed his back, and they saw faint white lines that resembled lightning strikes. “When Wally came back out of the speed force, he accidentally shocked me. Of course, it wasn’t enough to damage me severely, but it’s here.”

They looked at him once more, then Tim tipped his head to the side. “What about you, sis? You’ve been doing this longer than we have. Do you have any good ones?” (Y/N) looked at him before pulling off her jacket and pulling off the tank top she had on. She stood up, walking to the mirror and staring into it.

She pointed to one that lined across her left breast. “Even covered by my bra, you can see how badly this one was.” She paused running a hand down it, gaze far. “When Jason died, I got into it with Joker some time after.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted to Jason’s, who’s were wide with shock. “I beat him worse than dad did, but he left me with this one before I did.”

“I…didn’t know you did that, Queenie.”

“Of course not Jason. I didn’t tell you.” (Y/N) pointed to a patch that rested on her right hip. “Took a bullet for Tim a few years ago.”

“That was when Deadshot was running around, right?”

She nodded, answering his question. “Mhm. They say he never misses. But that day, he did.” Her hand moved and she touched a curved scar that ran down her neck. “After you died, Damian, I found Talia and we had it out.”

“What happened?” he questioned curiously.

(Y/N) met his eyes in the mirror and frowned. “She and I gave each other a fair share of wounds…but I think the ones I gave her hurt more than the ones she gave me.”

“And those were?”

(Y/N) looked back at her reflection and stared at herself. “The infuriated words of a grieving sister.”

Silence enveloped the room and after a few moments, Dick pointed to a particular scar on her back that ran down the length of it. “How in the world did you get that one?”

She looked over her shoulder and reached behind her, fingers brushing over the raised, jagged skin that had sealed unevenly. “On my back?”

Dick snorted and nodded. “The only one on your back sis.”

She went silent for a moment then she admitted, “…Tarantula gave it to me a few years ago.”

No one noticed the way Dick froze for a split second at her admittance, and Jason asked, “Why did you and Tarantula get into it?”

Her eyes met Dick’s for a flash before she looked at Jason. “She killed an informant of mine and I got even with her.”

“Looks like she rocked your shit, Queenie.”

The others laughed, save for her and Dick, then (Y/N) muttered darkly, “I beat Catalina Flores within an inch of her life that night.” Her statement brought their laughter to a grinding halt, and she continued. “Hell, I almost killed her. But I didn’t.”

Damian crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And why not? It would not be the first time you’ve killed someone.”

(Y/N) rolled her shoulders and moved back to her clothes, pulling on the tank top and jacket before turning to him. “Because then she would’ve gotten of scot free, and she wouldn’t have to live knowing what she’s done.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed and he followed Damian, crossing his arms and leaning against the lockers. “Not to be nosey, but the way you’re talking about her almost seems like you’ve got a vendetta against her. And I mean like, me to Bruce vendetta.”

(Y/N) met his gaze before reaching down and tossing his muscle tank to him, then passing the others their shirts. “The informant she killed was a good friend of mine. There was…a lot of fury.” She paused, meeting Dick’s gaze once more. “There still is.”

The others simply stared at her before pulling on their shirts, and she looked at them. “I’m gonna get dad to go out and eat somewhere with me. You guys go on out and start working on him, would you?” The three nodded and started towards the door, (Y/N) following.

She was almost out of the door when Dick’s voice reached her quietly. “…(Y/N)?” She paused, turning around, and looking at Dick, who wore an unreadable expression; he glanced up at her, his eyes searching as he inquired, “Was there another reason that you two fought?”

“Me and Catalina?” He nodded and she shrugged. “There might’ve been. But the immediate fight was about my informant.”

Dick stared at her for a few moments before whispering, “…You didn’t start your informant network until I donned Batman.”

(Y/N) tipped her head back and leaned against the door frame, eyes narrowed as she mentally picked his words apart as only an older sister could. “What are you getting at, kid brother?”

He fell silent all at once, but when he finally found it in himself to bring his eyes to hers, she saw such pain in them. “Did you fight her…because of me?”

“No,” she immediately replied, firmly and confidently.

Dick’s eyes widened momentarily, but he looked down and nodded. “I see.”

She kept staring at him, then cleared her throat and turned, grabbing the doorknob. She pulled the door open and stopped, murmuring, “Dick.” He glanced up at her, but she faced forward and said, “I don’t know what happened to you in Blüdhaven all those years ago, and frankly, it’s none of my business.”

Dick’s heart sunk at her words, but then she looked over her shoulder, a solemn tone matching her stance and gaze as she affirmed, “But I am your sister…and I run the best damn informant network this side of the galaxy.” She paused, her words taking on an underlying tone. “There isn’t anything that happens in Gotham and our sister city that I don’t know about.”

Something passed between their eyes and she declared, “I am the family keeper. And I will always be the safety net that catches everyone when they’re in their darkest hours. When there’s something you can’t handle, I will for you.”

Her words made his eyes shine with unshed tears and she gave him a faint smile and a wink before she stepped out of the locker room, leaving him sitting alone, his thoughts drifting back to the rooftop in Blüdhaven.

***

She walked across the floor of the cave to see her father standing there, Jason and Tim hanging off his arms and Damian around his neck; he wore the expression of a tired dad and she couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Having fun, dad?”

He shifted slowly as to not knock one of her brothers off and glared at her. “This is your fault.”

“Guilty as charged father dearest! But it’s food time! Let’s get street tacos.”

Jason grunted at her and shook his head. “No, let’s get gyros!”

“Gyros are disgusting, Jason.”

His features contorted in something only described as an insulted disbelief and he declared, “Just because you don’t like limes and lemons, does not mean gyros are gross, (Y/N).”

“We’re not getting gyros, Jason,” she shot back.

“What about Chinese food?”

(Y/N) looked at Damian and nodded. “I’m down for tacos or Chinese.”

“Can we stop and get some shawarma?”

“Tim, which part of tacos or Chinese sounded like shawarma to you? It’s one or the other. Take your pick.”

“But last night was pizza night! And if I eat Chinese or tacos, I’m going to eat more carbs than I need!”

“You do need more carbs, twig-boy.”

“That was mean, sis.”

“Truthful. I mean how have you not been snapped in half yet? You look like a toothpick.”

The others laughed at her comments, and Bruce looked at her. “Where’s Dick?”

(Y/N) tipped her head back to the lockers. “Still changing.” She motioned to the stairs. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait on Dickie.” They nodded, and she watched her father trudge past with her three brothers hanging off him.

A smile crossed her lips and a few minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her. “Where’d everybody go?”

She turned around and nodded to the stairs. “Told them to go ahead and get ready.” (Y/N) had barely made it up the first ten steps when she felt Dick stop beside her, and she glanced back at him. “Dick? You good?”

He gazed up at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

She gave him a knowing look and said, “I didn’t do anything, Dick.”

“You did.”

“Agree to disagree.” They stared at each other for a second then she tipped her head to the stairs. “Let’s go get some food, kid brother.”

He nodded and started climbing the steps beside her. “I don’t tell you enough, sis…but I love you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “God, you are so sentimental.”

“It’s one of my perks.”

“More like a curse…but yeah…it is.” She paused and he stopped beside her, and she reached over, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you too, little brother.” His arms wound around her, and they shared a moment before she patted his back. “Alright. Let go. I’m done being overly affectionate.”

He laughed, letting her go and she walked up ahead of him. He kept his eyes trained to her back, and he remembered something she once told him.

The two of them walked silently down the twisting and turning garden path, following the little white concrete plates that made the trail. Dick looked up from his hands, calling out to the older girl in front of him. “(Y/N)?”

She hummed in response but didn’t look at him. “What is it, Dickie?”

“Why won’t you let me walk beside you?”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. “Because I’m protecting you.”

His head tipped to the side and he stopped walking. “But were at the manor?”

“And something could always happen. I’m in the front, so that if something comes, I can protect you while you run.” She turned around and looked at him. “One day you’ll be old enough to walk beside me instead of behind me.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he jumped excitedly. “When! When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind!”

(Y/N) giggled at her little brother and reached out, holding his shoulders to stop him from jumping up and down. “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore…you can walk beside me.”

“When will that be?”

(Y/N) pulled her hands away and spun back around, continuing her walk. “When it happens…you’ll know.” It was all the answer she gave the young boy, but he continued following her, still behind.

Dick blinked, the memory flashing away as fast as it had come, and he saw her back once more; he called out to her. “When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind?”

(Y/N) halted, mid-step and she glanced over her shoulder, a faint smile playing her lips as she replied, “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore, you can walk beside me.”

“And when will that be?”

She huffed a laugh chuckled at him before she turned back around, though she paused just as she was about to cross the threshold and peered back at him. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to that one, sis.”

(Y/N) shrugged and turned back around, declaring, “Then I guess you still need me to protect you.”

Dick watched her disappear into the manor, listening as she got into the argument that her brothers were bickering about with each other, and he smiled faintly. “Yeah…I guess I still do.”

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mikkomacko · 3 years

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So not sure if you’re going to understand this but here’s my idea: the team not knowing that the reader is dating both Bucky and Steve (Stucky) and they confront her and say some awful things like she’s using them, a cheating wh*re etc. and she just starts crying and runs and locks herself in their room (or whatever you’d like). Then Stucky comes back or out from somewhere looking for her and then they ask the team and the team tells them that she was “cheating” on both of them with each other and then they’re like no we’re all dating each other and the team feels all bad and you can end it how you want lol. You don’t have to do this and sorry if it’s bad.

A/n: Sorry it took so long! Hope it's ok! <3

Two Avengers dating would cause enough gossip in itself, but three Avengers? Two of which have been best friends since the 40s? She can't imagine what kind of reaction that would get out of Sam or Nat who have always teased Steve and Bucky about being really good friends.

So when y/n, Bucky, and Steve made their relationship official, they kept it as low-key as possible. Anything beyond cuddling was reserved for the privacy of their rooms, flirting had to be subtle, and all dates were far from the Avengers compound.

They just had to pray they could follow the rules and keep their hands to themselves when others were around.

Drumming her fingers on the folder, y/n heads up HR to submit her latest mission report. It was simple surveillance mission, nothing exciting to report on but she'd been gone for over a week and wanted to get the report in asap so it could be done with. Dropping it off on the incoming desk, she promptly turns on her heel to head to lunch but is stopped just outside of the doorway by a hand on her bicep. She's tugged into the hidden corner before she can even react, two strong arms caging her against the cool wall.

Bucky, dressed for a training session, stands before her, blue eyes sparkling and lips smiling. Immediately, her guard falls, lips widening into a smile that reflects the same love shining through Bucky's.

"Careful Barnes," she teases, "next time I won't be so kind about ya pawing at me."

He clicks his tongue. "Wouldn't be pawing if you'd come to see me as soon as you got back."

"Paperwork waits for no one. Not even Cap and Sarge."

He sighs playfully. "Damn doll, that hurts. Think ya should kiss it better."

So she does. Cupping his jaw between two soft palms, y/n seals their mouths together in a tender kiss, completely blind to Bruce and Tony who have just caught sight of them from down the hall.

Bucky heads down to the gym and y/n heads to room to clean up before lunch, ignoring his pleas for her to join him. She's technically on recovery from her last mission and she's definitely going to milk that for a day off. She's approaching her door when one just down the hall opens, a familiar blond head of hair coming into view.

She pauses, leaning her shoulder against the doorway and smiles at him. "Hey Cap, fancy seeing you here."

He lifts his head, soft blue eyes meeting hers and he smiles that cute little smirk only Steve Rogers could smile. "Hey, heard you got back early this morning."

"Yeah, way early." She laughs, tilting her chin up as he moves closer.

"How'd it go?"

He stops in front of her, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head. It's his typical go-ahead-I'm-listening stance but by the way he's eyeing her mouth she knows he doesn't actually want to hear it right now. Steve always tries to hide the fact that he's just as clingy as Bucky.

"Is that really what you're going to ask me, Rogers? After being gone for so long you want my mission run down right now?"

He chuckles, dipping his head and lightly shaking it. "No not really."

"So what's your real question?"

Bashful, he meets her eyes again. "Can I have a hello?"

Y/n laughs, butterflies fluttering in her chest as she rises on her tiptoes to kiss him. He gently grips her waist, pulling her just the slightest bit closer and humming in content. She throws her arms around his neck, fingertips shifting into the hair at the base of his neck, once again too caught up in her boyfriend to notice Nat and Sam have just spotted them from the end of the corridor.

"You'll never believe what we just saw!" Sam shouts, hightailing it into the kitchen with Natasha hot on his heels. Bruce and Tony both startle in their seats at the table, water sloshing over the edge of Bruce's mug.

"Nuh-uh, we're first." Tony says, shaking his head.

"No we are." Sam insists, Tony opening his mouth to continue the argument but Natasha cuts him off.

"Rogers and y/n are together."

And that makes Tony and Bruce pause. Sam whoops proudly, smirking at the two as they share looks of confusion.

"Steve and y/n?" Bruce confirms, eyebrows pinching together when Nat nods firmly.

Tony sighs. "Well that puts us in a bit of pickle because we saw Barnes with his tongue down her throat."

Sam's jaw drops. "What? When?"

"Earlier today!" Bruce exclaims, motioning towards the HR department. "She was dropping off paperwork and he just grabbed her and kissed her."

"Well we just watched Steve pin her against a door and kiss her not even ten minutes ago." Nat exclaims, anger building up in her veins. "Which means we've got a problem."

Sam turns to her, just as angry. "Damn right we do!"

Bottom lip between her teeth, y/n attempts to hide the giddy smile that's been plastered on her face since her reunion with her boys. It's a weak attempt because she's practically as bright as a ray of sunshine but she doesn't really care. She's happy. She's so incredibly happy and she wants it to last forever.

Unfortunately for her, the feeling is cut short far too soon because as soon as she enters the kitchen, 4 pairs of eyes are glaring at her.

"Hey everyone," she says tentatively, slowing to a stop. "what's going on?"

Sam scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why don't you tell us what's going on?" He says coldly, "You know besides you macking on our friends."

Macking on his friends? Oh god, Steve and Bucky! They found out about their relationship...

Her jaw drops, cut-off guard. "Wait! I can explain-"

"Cheaters don't get an explanation." Nat cuts off, eyes mean and piercing. Y/n heart sinks into her stomach. Cheating? She'd never cheat in her life, especially not on Bucky and Steve.

"Cheating? I'm not-"

Tony rises from his seat. "Save it y/n. We know you're cheating on Bucky and Steve with each other. How could you do that? They're like brothers and your just using them-"

"No I'm not!" She insists, panicking under the hateful gazes. "You guys don't understand. Just let me-"

"No!" Sam cuts off. "Bucky and Steve have both gone through so much. Do you realize how difficult it must have been for them to open up to you? And you thew it all away. You hurt them. You're a bitch y/n, full honestly."

Tears sting her eyes. Sam's never said anything like that to her let alone anyone they know. He's always been so kind and welcoming so to hear such hurtful words from him has her stunned. She can't even think of anything to say to defend herself.

"Y-you really think that lowly of me?" She sniffles, "That I would do something like that?"

"We saw it, y/n." Banner responds, nose scrunched in disgust. "Now get outta here before we throw you out."

Insulted and insecure, she shakes her head. "I can't believe you all." Then she turns on her heel, running to the safety of her room.

Bucky's spotting Steve on the bench press when the foursome of Avengers walk in, somber looks on their faces.

"Steve," Bucky says, gaining his attention. Immediately the super soldier is setting down his weights, sitting up to look at their friends.

"What's going on? Is someone hurt?" Steve asks, rising to his feet. Sam shakes his head, smiling sympathetically.

"No one's hurt," he assures "but we've got something to tell you."

Bucky swallows nervously, something in him going on high alert. He knows that this is about y/n, that something's happened and it makes him anxious. Where is she?

"What?" Bucky asks, noticing the lingering anger in Nat's eyes.

"It's y/n," she says "she-"

"She what?" Bucky interrupts quickly, readying himself to sprint upstairs.

"She's cheating," Tony says, eyes flickering between the two men. "On you two. With each other."

Oh, Bucky wasn't expecting that. He turns to Steve, the two sharing a silent conversation between themselves. They know? Looks like it pal. How'd that happen? I told you to be careful...

"Don't worry, we already gave her a piece of our minds-"

"You what?!" Steve suddenly asks, finally realizing what they're saying. They think y/n cheated on them because they don't know they're all three dating each other. And they confronted her about it.

"What did you say?" Bucky asks lowly.

"The truth," Sam says proudly. "that she's a bitch for using you both."

Before anyone can react Bucky is rushing towards the doors, abandoning his belongings in favor of checking on y/n. Steve doesn't mind, knowing that when it comes to being emotional and open, Bucky is typically the one she leans on. He's good at being a comforting shoulder.

"Oh god Sam," Steve sighs. "Y/n isn't cheating-"

"Yeah-"

"No she's not!" He shouts, startling them. "She's not. For the past few months we've been dating. The three of us."

The silence is almost amusing if Steve wasn't too busy thinking of his girl upstairs, upset.

"Like a throuple?" Bruce asks, confused.

Steve nods shortly. "Thanks for accusing her instead of talking it out. Appreciate it." He says icily, pushing around them. Stalking towards the exit, he calls over his shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a girl to go check on."

Bucky has wrapped her up like a burrito in the comforter from his bed on the floor of her room, leaning back against the side of the matress with her sat between his parted thighs. Her eyes are still wet and swollen but she's giggling through her sniffles, a spoon hanging out of her mouth and a bowl of soup in her lap. They both look up when he enters the room, Y/n smiling shyly and Bucky relieved.

"We ok sweetheart?" He asks, waiting for her nod before looking to Bucky.

"We're good Steve," he promises, sweeping her hair over her shoulder with his hand and brushing his fingers through it. "She was just frustrated. Didn't know they could think she'd do something like that."

"That's because she wouldn't," Steve says firmly, sitting on the floor next to them. "and we know that y/n. We know you'd never hurt us like that."

"I love you Steve," she swears, resting her head on his shoulder. "And I love you Buck. Thanks for doing this for me."

"Course doll," Bucky says, kissing the side of her head. "Don't have to thank us for loving you." Steve hums his agreement.

"But..."Bucky quickly adds, "you can thank me after I beat Sam's ass for calling you that."

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes. "Buck..." He says warningly but he doesn't even finish the scolding thought because their boyfriend's threat has made y/n smile and that's all they could ever ask for.

#stucky x reader #stucky blurb #Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes blurb #steve rogers blurb

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iguessweallcrazyithinktho · 3 years

Text

𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

I want to hold your hand while sitting by the river on a bench at night, looking at the city lights reflect in the water and admiring how lovely you look. I want to kiss you while I sit on my hands so you don't notice how much they're shaking.

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒚

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓, 𝒄𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: 𝒏𝒐 𝒊 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈😶

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕.

𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑹𝑬𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑺 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬

Chris didn't expect this outcome when he chose the movie he was currently playing in the you. He didn't expect to fall in love with you but he did. At first it was scary, but as he spent days with you he knew it was nothing to be scared about. You were delightful, beautiful, smart; everything that Chris wanted. And he was happy you both found each other.

First day on set

The place was crowded with people talking and fixing things up for scenes. You made your way over to the director which you've met a few weeks before.

"hi." You smiled not paying attention to the other person beside her. "Hi, y/n. Welcome to set."

You chuckled, "thanks, thanks." You turned to the guy beside her. Your breath hitched in your throat as you saw who it was. Chris Fucking Evans.

You keep it together despite being next to the very popular bachelor. "Y/n this is Chris. Chris this is y/n."

The director introduced you both. Chris smiled and stuck his hand out. God his smile gave you butterflies.

"hi y/n, nice to meet you." You chuckled softly, shaking his his. Your chuckle it came out more nervously then you intended it to. "Hi, nice to meet you too."

Chris looked at you. There was no denying you were a beautiful woman, and your cute smile was the cherry on top for him. He could tell you were nervous but he didn't make it obvious to you; he was nervous himself to be honest.

You started to notice you were shaking Chris hand for a while now. You cleared your throat and pulled your hand from his soft hand.

"so as you know, you two are playing love interest in the movie. It's a romantic movie and there's lots of kisses and intense scene. I hope you two are ready for this." The director widened her eyes at you both. You nodded your head peering over at Chris who was also nodding.

"well I got your scripts in your trailer for you both. Have fun you two." She walked away leaving you and Chris standing together. You hesitantly turned to Chris. "Well... Uh, I'll see you later then." You laughed turning around.

"yeah, I will too."

Chris watched as you Walked away to your trailer. It's something about you that made him feel flustered, something that made him nervous and shy. He wasn't sure what it was he was feeling but it was a feeling he didn't want to let go of.

End of that week

After many hours and scene the end of the week rolled through. It was nice Because you only had to do a couple of more scenes before you got the weekend off. Even though that was exciting, the last scene you were doing that week was a scene of you kissing Chris for the first time.

It made you fucking nervous. What if you messed the kiss up? What if you get so nervous you throw up? What if Chris hated it? So many things ran through your mind as you sat aside on the set.

Chris walked on to set a few minutes later parking himself right beside you. "Hi." He mumbled bumping your shoulder. You looked over at him, trying not to smile so hard, "hi."

"you ready for this scene?" Chris asked, looking at you. You sighed, "um I guess so." You placed your hand under your legs that were starting to bounce.

Chris noticed, "hey, don't be nervous." You looked up at him, "I'm fine just never kissed Anyone on screen before."

Chris sighed, "it was a little awkward for my first kissed on screen but once you do it y'all be fine."

The co-director came up to you both saying it was time to film. "Come on, let's get it over with." Chris voice was soft as you both got up. It relaxed you a lot.

You walked over to the set, standing in front of Chris. He took your hand as told and looked into your eyes. The director yelled action and you began your acting.

Chris leaned in settling his lips on yours. Your eyes fluttered close as you began to Kiss him. Right away you noticed his lips were extremely soft. It made you get butterflies; Chris was feeling the same way.

Chris slipped his tongue into your mouth making you moan before he pulled away and placed his forehead against yours. The director called cut and you slowly pulled away. Chris ears were red and he looked flustered.

You smiled at him. "Was that good?" You asked Chris. He chuckled, "that was perfect darling." You breathed a sigh of relief. It was finally over.

Later that night

Chris couldn't stop thinking about the kiss you both had earlier that day. The way you kissed blew him away, he wasn't sure why you were so nervous.

He threw his coat onto the trailer couch before he sat down there with a sigh. He was happy he was getting the weekend off, but he hated how he wasn't going to see you for those two days. He grew so attached to you throughout the whole week it was insane. Chris Decided that he wasn't going to spend the weekend alone, he was going to invite you to spend it with him.

After a call with Chris, you agreed to spend it with him. He took you out to breakfast Saturday, took you to Disneyland with him. You were scared to go on the rollercoaster unless you held chris' hand.

He Brought you lot of sweets and by time you made it back to your hotel you were out. It was just one day and it was clear you both were getting comfortable with each other.

Sunday, Chris Decided to go easy on you. Around 7pm he invited you out to go eat street food near a lake. You agreed and waited for 7 to roll around.

When it was about half past 6, you got yourself ready. You put on some blue jeans and a simple Graphic shirt.

You left your hotel Room and made your way down to the lobby. Chris was already waiting there. When he saw you, he smiled.

"hi." He hugged you and you hugged him back. "Ready to go?" You nodded, "never been more ready."

Chris nodded, "okay, let's go then." You walked out of the hotel with him and down the streets. It wasn't busy, a few people here and there which was nice. Chris stopped at a food truck and you both ordered some amazing food. You both ate it as you Walked to the bench where the lake was.

You took a seat on the bench as soon as you both reached it; Chris sat beside you. You looked out at the beautiful landscape in front of you.

The city was lit up in front of you, it reflected off the lake. It was beautiful and it was amazing to admire it. Chris noticed.

"it's beautiful isn't it?" You looked over at Chris, "yeah it is." You chuckled placing your empty food tray on the ground beside your chair.

"I always come here when I need to clear my mind. LA is crazy so it's nice." He peered over at the scenery before looking at you.

He had a soft smile on his face. It wasn't a lot but it made you flustered. It was clear you weren't good around guys.

Your hands slipped under your thighs. Chris chuckled, "why are you so nervous? Keeping putting your hands under your legs."

You shook your head. "You make me nervous." You honestly said. Chris grinned, "you make me nervous too."

He bumped your shoulder laughing. You looked at him. "you know what, I want to try that kiss again. You know the one we did two days ago beca-"

You were cut off by Chris lips. He kissed you hard. You moaned as his warm tongue slipped into your mouth. After two minutes Chris pulled away. It was clear his lips were red from how hard he kissed you.

"Because what?"

"Because I love it."

A little fluff for you

Chris beamed, "I love it too." You laughed before you kissed him again. Yeah, you really loved it.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagines #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans x black reader

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

ok but what about going to the gym with boyfriend!tom (i always workout alone and i have my gym crushes here and there) and Tom gets so worked up about it and when she notices she begins teasing him.........and smut happens 👀

obsessed with this.... i love a gym/post-workout moment... nsfw! minors dni <3

✧———clearing out my askbox!———✧

smut warnings ↠ semi-public sex, shower sex, hair pulling (ft brief pain kink), fingering, unprotected sex, cumshot.

——————

“Another five, darling. There you go. Keep going.”

Sweat prickles along your hairline, your face pulsing with hot blood. With each burpee, you feel your heartbeat quicken and your body get more tired, but you aren’t about to give up. Not with Tom, your boyfriend, poised in front of you, jumping up and down in sync with you.

He’s ridiculously attractive, even when he’s bossing you around in the gym. It’s been the cause of a few teasing comments from him already, as he’s caught you out taking breaks to ogle him. In your defence, it’d be hard not to look.

Tom is in a pair of shorts and a tight black tank top, his biceps out and flexing every time he swings his arms around. His hair lies over his head in messy heaps, and his cheeks lie flushed with a healthy glow. Adrenaline looks good on Tom, and you can’t even be annoyed that he’s pushing you to go further because it’s so attractive coming from him.

“Fuck yeah,” he says finally. “We’re done.”

You finish your set and release a sound of relief, sagging forward and falling into his embrace. Tom laughs, his chest heaving as he holds you in a loose, sweaty hug. His neck is hot with perspiration, but you don’t hesitate to curl closer, savouring the brief moment of respite in his arms.

“You’re so mean,” you whine. You finally fall back, just to bend over and grab your water bottle from the spot on the mat. You take a few deep swallows of cool water before Tom grabs the bottle from your hands and shoves it past his own lips. “I’m so tired.”

Tom hums, jaw tensing as he swallows down mouthfuls of the water. “You’ll feel good, though. All those positive endorphins,” he says, grinning slyly. “I want to do some weights before we go, but I think that’s enough cardio for today.”

You make a loud sound of agreement. “Definitely,” you agree. You wave your hand at the exercise mats. “I’ll just do some stretches and wait for you.”

He nods and darts forwards to kiss your cheek before letting you go. “Okay, love,” he says. “I’ll just be over there.”

The gym is fairly empty this morning, and you’re able to find a spot on the edge of the exercise mats without much trouble. As you sit down on the squashy sprung mat, you pull your arms above your head and start to stretch out your shoulders. The weights station is directly opposite the mat zone, so you’re able to watch Tom as he browses the weights trolley before picking off a large dumbbell.

You find yourself biting your lower lip as you watch him sit on the edge of a bench and start to pump it. Tom spots you staring, and you watch him smirk. He wiggles his brows before sitting up a little straighter to flex his muscles with more vigour. If you weren’t in public, you’d growl, the sight of his pulsing arms, flushed face and ripped figure making a hot flush travels out from your centre. As Tom licks his lips and intensifies his smirk, you find yourself shivering.

Two can play at this game.

You stand from the mat, biting your lip as a devious thought tickles you. Meeting his eyes, you raise a brow in question before turning around and facing the wall. You can feel Tom’s gaze on your figure, burning intently as you start to do some squats. The exercise is his weakness, especially when you do it, and you’re cruel for exploiting that information, but you find yourself smirking as you continue to drop low, arching your back and taking your time.

To any casual observer, it’d just look like you’re very attentively exercising, but to Tom, you know you’re driving him mad.

There are mirrors set into the wall, and you watch as Tom abandons his exercise in favour of sitting there to watch you, jaw tensing. You meet his gaze through the reflection and flash a teasing smile, only for it to melt into fulfilment as you watch Tom mutter something to himself then stand up quickly. He hurries to put away the weight before picking up his phone and stalks towards you, his lean figure stacked with sweaty muscles.

He lingers behind you for a moment, eyes taking you in as you do a few low squats. Through the mirror, you can see his nostrils flare, his eyes shifting dark and heady. When you finish your set, you straighten up before stepping back a few paces to press your back against Tom’s front. He mutters a low, “fuck,” and you feel his member, quickly hardening as his crotch rubs against your ass.

“Darling,” Tom mutters, scooping your hair out of the way until he’s able to kiss your neck. Your skin is hot and sweaty, but he doesn’t hesitate to nibble up and down the side of your throat. “‘M so hard right now.”

You shiver as he laps over the sensitive skin of your neck. “Do you want to go home?”

Tom grumbles into your ear. “I can’t wait that long,” he complains, voice low and accented. “You look so hot, love. I’ve got a stiffy.”

Biting your lip, you turn around and take his hand. “Well,” you tease, “have you got anything in mind?”

He nods his head. “Yep,” Tom says. “Follow me.”

Tom takes you down to the unisex changing room, and you catch onto his idea as he points at some of the large shower cubicles. They’re each caged in with frosted glass, and like the gym had been, the room is unusually empty. There are a few people milling around, but no one else is in the shower room.

You bite your lip as you look at him. “Really?” you ask, but you’re already pulling off your shirt. Tom stands across the bench from you, similarly jerking off his tank top.

His eyes sparkle. “Fuck yeah,” he growls. “Did I tell you how hot you look in those leggings?”

After a little bit of negotiating with your clothes, the towels and the lockers, Tom pulls you into the shower cubicle. He turns on the water before pushing you up against the wall, caging you in with an arm planted on either side of your head as his lips find yours. You’re both naked now, your clothes discarded back in the locker, and you have to bite back a loud moan when you feel Tom’s hard cock slide to rest between the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Shhhh,” he murmurs, speaking into your ear. Tom pulls one arm away from your head and snakes his hand between your legs. He smirks as his index finger slips between your folds, rolling over your clit before shifting down to tease your entrance. You’re already wet, your body hot and aching from the time spend watching him work out upstairs, and you feel your hole pulsing and spasming against his finger as he curls it into your heat. “Anyone could walk in, baby... you’ll need to be really quiet.”

“Okay,” you manage. Your head falls back against the cool tiles of the back wall as you part your legs, allowing Tom to feed two of his fingers into your pulsing cunt. His lips close over your neck as he works you open, cock still brushing up against your thighs. You have to swallow a moan when he adds his thumb to your clit. “Shit,” you whine.

You reach up and run your hands over his shoulders, momentarily getting distracted by the muscles on his form. Tom’s been working out consistently for the past six months, and the evidence can be found in the definition of his shoulders and biceps. His muscles are so firm, and as you appreciate his strength with your hands, you feel yourself clench around his digits.

Tom smirks, leaning up to nose at your cheek. “Are you okay there, lovie? You seem a little distracted.”

You scrunch the tip of your nose as you twist a hand into Tom’s hair. His strands are saturated with droplets from the shower, and he’s still grinning as you bring him closer to kiss him.

“Fuck me,” you mutter against his lips. You gasp softly as he curves his fingers up towards your stomach, the tips of his slender digits caressing your g-spot until you whimper. You feel so slick, the space between your thighs coated with your arousal. “Do it hard. From behind.”

Tom licks his lips. He captures your mouth in a final kiss as he pulls away from you. An annoyed whimper slips from your lips as your cunt throbs emptily, but your mood is soon to pick up as he turns you in his arms. With his back pressed to yours, you can feel Tom’s erect cock, standing proud against your lower spine.

“You’ll let me hit it from the back?” he mutters, nipping at your neck. Tom’s large hands swoop around to cup your breasts, his fingers toying with your nipples as you gasp.

“Yeah,” you say. You bend over, reaching out to hold onto the metal control taps of the shower as you spread your legs and arch your back. You look back over your shoulder, eyes darkening as you watch Tom situate himself behind you, pumping his flushed cock in his hand as his jaw tenses. He curses as he meets your eyes. “Hard and fast,” you request. “Please.” You’re buzzing from the endorphins from your workout, and you find yourself craving your boyfriend’s firm touch.

Tom nods his head. A focused expression finds his face as he steps closer, resting one hand on your ass as the other stays wrapped around his length. You bite back a soft moan as he slides his tip between your folds, teasing your clit for a second before guiding his bulging crown up to your entrance.

“Are you ready?” he asks, voice barely audible above the stream of water pounding down beside you.

You bite your lower lip. “Fuck yeah,” you mutter. “Give it to me.”

Tom slips into you with ease, and your eyes drop shut as your head falls forward.

“Oh god yeah,” Tom mutters, burying himself deep within your heat. You bite your lower lip to muffle your cries as his thick cock presses your walls apart. “You’re so tight, darling. Oh fuck. Cunt feels like fucking paradise… Always so snug around me, isn’t it?”

You’re glad for the loud stream of water and the garish pop tunes that stream through the air because the noises of skin slapping against skin are audible to you. Your fingers wrap around the cool metal of the shower controls as you cling for dear life, your breathing laboured as Tom thrusts into you like a demon. As he shifts both hands down to grasp at your hips, the engorged head of his cock brushes up against your g-spot. Your back arches when he hits against your spongy back wall, causing your heat to tighten.

“Oh fuck,” Tom murmurs from behind you, his voice sharp and breathless. He squeezes your waist as he continues to pull you back to meet him, each rut of his hips against yours propelling him deeper. After a while, he shifts one hand away, hot fingertips dancing up your spine before burying into your hair. As Tom tugs on your strands, the ache in your skull makes you whimper. “Touch your clit, darling,” he asks, keeping his voice quiet.

When he releases your hair, you follow his instructions blindly, unable to think of anything beyond how good it feels to get railed like this. It’s clear that both of you are riding on the highs of your workout, Tom’s pace brutal as he spends all his leftover energy on you. You’re willing to take it, your greedy cunt revelling in the bruising pace he’s set and basking in the glow of his length stretching you out so well.

Mixing in with the sounds of water thrumming against the tiled floor comes the sound of your puckering heat, clinging to his cock each time he buries himself in you. Quiet expletives tumble from your lips as you get to the edge, unable to vocalise your enjoyment but instead falling into the rhythm of pushing back against Tom every time he snaps his hips. With the way his fingers grow needier, holding at your hips with a slippery grip that only grows messier, you can tell he’s just as close as you.

It doesn’t surprise you at all when Tom suddenly gasps, then you feel his cock start to throb inside you as his rhythm falters. The sensation of him shooting his seed into your desperate heat makes you spiral over the edge. You grip the bar of the shower tighter as you bite into the top of your arm to muffle your moans.

Tom slowly evens out his pace, continuing to fuck into you until you stand up a little straighter. He runs his hands over your ass and waist before stepping back, the discomfort of him pulling out quickly smoothed away when he gently coaxes you up and into his arms.

“So good, darling,” he whispers, holding you to his chest. His lips come down over the side of your face as his hands play with your wet hair. When you shiver, Tom walks both of you back, helping you into the stream of warm water. “You always do so well for me. Best girl, aren’t you? My best girl.”

He’s cooing and gentle, holding you with love in his arms and tenderness shining in his gaze. When you’re more stable, you pull away from his chest, feeling beads of his cum dripping down your inner thighs as you lean up to steal a kiss from his lips.

“Love you,” you mumble, folding into his arms.

Tom’s hands gently caress your spine, and you can feel him smile against your lips. He squeezes your ass with the palms of his hands before releasing you.

“Love you too,” he says. He reaches behind you and pumps the soap dispenser, lips brushing the top of your nose as he runs the lathering liquid over your wet form. “I’ll clean you up now,” he promises.

You bite your lip as you look up at him, blinking innocently. “You made a mess,” you say, thinking about your pussy, still clenching around droplets of his seed.

Tom arches a brow, eyes momentarily dipping down to your legs. A shadow of a smirk crosses his lips a moment later, then he’s pressing them back against your ear.

“Well,” he purrs, tone heavy and suggestive, “I think I know what I can do to help clean you up…”

#this is 2.5k !#tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland smut blurb #tom holland fanfic #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.filth #q

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled, not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It’s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

#my writing #orc x reader #reader insert #female reader insert #orc/human #monster/human #monster x reader #monster/reader #angst #orc

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