#responding to this several months late sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkykeiji · 3 months

Text

what now?

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking

words: 8.8k

It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.

Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.

You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side.

Yet.

It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you.

“Touya.”

He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons.

It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.

“Hmm?”

“That’s my real name. Touya.”

“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”

“Todoroki Touya.”

Oh.

“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”

And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on.

He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you.

But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.

The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame.

Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.

He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.

He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer.

The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.

You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips.

“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.

“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”

“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”

Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.

“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!”

Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.

“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!”

“Shouto?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.”

His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling.

“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”

“Oh, I can only imagine…”

…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.

“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!”

“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull.

“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”

Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors.

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.

“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”

“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”

You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.

He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him.

And your heart sinks.

New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye.

“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.”

“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.

“And you’re hurt.”

He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!”

“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”

“But it isn’t even painful.”

“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.”

Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.

Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech.

And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute.

He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.

And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.

What now?

It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten.

What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process?

Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?

Does Dabi even care? Does Touya?

You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him.

You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly.

You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times.

You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man.

So what now?

“He tried to cool me down.”

The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw.

“What?”

“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.”

His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder.

The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.

“During the fight?”

His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once.

“I was overheating, and he…”

Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.

“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours.

Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice.

Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.

“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”

It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—

“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”

Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.

“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”

“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.”

You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…

What now?

It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat.

Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.

You refuse to steal this moment from him.

“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.

Always for him.

And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.

Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.

“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?”

The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face.

“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?”

“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.”

Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin.

“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”

“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.”

His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever.

It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you.

Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.

You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it.

You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.

But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.

Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much.

He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine.

“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.”

Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face.

The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh.

The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up.

Sicko.

His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.

Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.

His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams.

Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.”

A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth.

He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin.

His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.

Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt.

It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.

You need more.

“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction.

“Uh-huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?”

Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.

“You want something? Huh?”

Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think?

“You know.”

He does, of course he does.

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.”

Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny.

“W-Want your cock.”

His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring.

“That’s not asking, sweetheart.”

Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.

“Can I please have your cock? Please?”

“Please what?”

And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.

An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action.

He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.

As expected.

“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”

Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.

“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”

Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.

The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full.

And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.

“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.”

“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”

A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.

“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?”

“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips.

Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.

“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?”

The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him?

The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.

“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!”

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.

“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”

God, you hope not.

“Please, please—”

And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar.

Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.

But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.

“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”

Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips.

Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.

It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything.

“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”

A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs.

“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.”

And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him.

And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.

It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.

Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.

Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.

It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.

“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul.

Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable.

“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”

“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.

“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.”

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”

“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”

Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues.

“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.”

“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!”

The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.

“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”

Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.

You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock.

“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.”

A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.

“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”

“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!”

“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.”

Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue.

His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat

It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!

“Gonna—gonna—!”

A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls.

“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?”

Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues.

“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.”

“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”

“Yeah? Yeah?”

His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly!

Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat.

“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?”

He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue.

“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples.

He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction.

Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you.

“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!”

The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords.

“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?”

“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.”

Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.

The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact.

He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails.

No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit.

Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.

You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling.

“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively.

“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?”

“I always do, don’t I?”

And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.

Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.

“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”

The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone.

He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking.

Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips.

“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.”

In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.

You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin.

Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.

His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt.

Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more.

So cute.

Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips.

It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.

Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole.

It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal.

A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis.

“Fuck, f-fuck—”

His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.

Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch.

Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever.

The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name.

But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm.

“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum.

“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!”

A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.

“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!”

And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix.

He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs.

You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one.

Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs.

“What now?”

You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.

What now?

They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin.

His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.

What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?

What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.”

You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob.

“The dream, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.”

A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.

“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.

He does.

You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude.

You know.

But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.

You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.

And you hug him tighter.

You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him.

#dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x you #todoroki touya smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya x you #dabi angst #bnha smut #bnha x reader #happy belated birthdaaaay dabi i love you so much #eeeeee feel free to let me know what u think!!! i hope u enjoy it!!!

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judithhhh · 2 months

Text

valentine (one-shot)

jude x reader

summary : when your boyfriend forget about you on valentines day, all you have to do is call jude to help you

( late valentines day post!)

three hours. that was how long you had been waiting on the couch of your home for your boyfriend. you were all dressed up in a dark red dress and a matching pair of heels, your makeup perfectly done as well as your hair, the perfect valentine's day outfit. and even with all those efforts, your boyfriend still forgot. the first hour you told yourself that maybe he had been held back at work but you had been given the confirmation that he had forgot, or just did not care, when he viewed your instagram story of you in your outfit and the caption "valentine's ootd" and he still didn't come home. you debated just getting back into your pyjamas and crying yourself to sleep or find some use to the outfit you had on. all you had left to do now was take revenge right?

that's how you found yourself back into your old fling's dms, asking what he was doing on this special day. jude had already viewed your story, and he had already imagined you infront of him in your tight little dress, so he didn't hesitate to cancel his plans with the random girl he was supposed to meet up with and answer your message. he knew he would end up seeing you anyways.

messages :

jude

not doing anything special, u?

you

got stood up :(

so you're free?

jude

knew that boyfriend of yours couldn't treat you right

but yh im free

you

stop chatting shit and come over

jude

omw

he hadn't been to your house in months, last time being the day you ended things with him after getting with your boyfriend officially. you opened the door as you saw his car park in your driveway. you bit your lip, observing him walk up to you, as nonchalant as ever. you had missed the way he radiated confidence, something your now boyfriend seemed to lack. he greeted with a simple smirk, looking you up and down, his eyes practically drinking you in. no words were exchanged between you two as you let him settle on your couch and served two glasses of wine. he took a few sips, his eyes still devouring you before saying the first words of the night.

"am i here to make him jealous or to help you get over him"

he was direct, that's what you loved about him. and even months after, he still continued to always know what you needed, physically and mentally.

"both" you admitted, your lips up in a smirk

he simply smiled at you before dragging you from next to him to his lap. he teased you, his hands not quite touching you, his lips ghosting over yours.

"what should i do first baby? mark you all over so he knows you're mine yeah? " he whispered, his hands stroking your thighs, bringing up your dress at the same time

you struggled to respond under his touch as he started kissing all over your neck

"yeah jude please" you barely managed to respond.

he did as you told him, covering your neck and chest in hickeys. his touch was like torture, and you were a moaning mess underneath him. the months you spent with your boyfriend maybe made you forgot how good jude felt but now you were rediscovering it all, and you loved it. he pulled away from your body, your dress now discarded on the floor, and sighed at the sight of you.

"can't believe you kept that body away from me for so long"

"im sorry love, please don't stop" you practically begged on top of him

he didn't stop his touches or his kisses for the rest of the night, making sure that each inch of your body was his again. it was only several hours later that you woke up from yet another orgasm that put you to sleep. you wiggled yourself away from jude that was sleeping on top of you and walked to the bathroom to admire the work he had left on you. you smiled knowing that you had obtained the perfect revenge against your ex and the best sex you had in months. taking pictures of your marked neck and jude's naked back, you hurriedly posted the pics on insta before midnight wanting to get the perfect valentine's day post to piss off your boyfriend, or should you say ex now.

yourusername

liked by judebellingham and 1738 others

yourusername did what you couldn't

comments are turned off

#football #jude bellingham #football imagine #jude bellingham imagine #jude x reader #football x reader #jude bellingham x reader #hey jude :)

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moralesmilesanhour · 4 months

Text

It would be so fucking funny if the Spidey Gang had like significant gaps in how online they are between them and how niche their humor is.

Miles is always exactly one month behind the latest meme cycle (not always significant but can be lethal depending on how long a joke lasts before getting run into the ground. He once said 'boy math' too late and almost didn't make it out alive)

Pavitr is very online but has what the kids call 'local' humor. His 'For You' page is as mainstream as they come to the point where no more than two people at a time understand his jokes

Margo is online in the exact opposite direction. She is absolutely on stan twitter (sorry) with a header and profile pic that match perfectly. She is the only one who knows what a fancam is

Gwen is a longtime tumblrina and hit post limit several times during the MCR tour making theories about Gerard Way's costume decisions. Reblogs a lot of Hayley Williams gifs. Literally no one laughs when she responds to random statements with "likely place for it to be"

Peni is only ever online to give coding and robotics advice anonymously on Reddit. She doesn't even use streaming services

Hobie not only doesn't know what the fuck a "social media" is but doesn't want to know. Ever. Margot tries to explain recent celebrity dating gossip? He plugs his ears. Gwen tries to explain Goncharov? No thanks. Every time someone utters the word "Tiktok" while in his flat they have to put money in a jar.

#dont take these seriously i am typing this at hell hours in the morning because a vision struck me #shitpost #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv headcanons #miles morales #hobie brown #gwen stacy #pavitr prabhakar #margo kess #peni parker #blabbering

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reputationmunson · 1 year

Text

Brought Me Back to Life | S.H x fem!reader

Summary: The suspicion of your boyfriend cheating grows and grows causing you to go get a drink, or several, at a local bar. What happens when you meet a man with the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen?

Content: SMUT (18+ ONLY), modern!au, infidelity, flirting, drinking, swearing, oral (f&m rec), fingering (fem rec), oral (m rec), slight exhibitionism, protected sex, multiple orgasms, titty sucking, missionary position, sort of rough, slight choking, dirty talk, praise, fluff, pet names, use of y/n, afab!reader, she/her pronouns, barely proofread

word count: 4.8k

a/n: In honor of it being Steve’s birthday and also high infidelity day i figured this was fitting! Enjoy! (sort of based on high infidelity by t swizzle)

ANY MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WITH THIS POST WILL BE BLOCKED

The noise in the bar drowns out as you stare into your drink, hoping it will magically give you some sort of answer to your problem.

You were supposed to have a date with your boyfriend tonight, but apparently he had “stay late at the office” and by that you’re pretty sure he means he has to bury himself in his secretary.

It’s so cliche, isn’t it? A man having an affair with his secretary while you stay at home being the so-called perfect girlfriend. It’s ridiculous.

“Why don’t you just leave him?” your best friend asked you the first time your suspicion appeared and isn’t that the question of the century?

At first, the thought of leaving him seemed scary and it still sort of is. He’s your first serious boyfriend and the beginning of the relationship started off so well. He was kind, affectionate, and treated you like you could walk on water. It all seemed too good to be true. Turns out you were right.

Now, he barely touches you, he only tells you he loves you when you say it first, and you can’t remember the last time he did anything nice for you. You keep hoping he’ll change at that it’s all just a phase, but there’s only so much hope a person can have.

A man you’d seen in here a few times before sits next to you at the bar. You’d never properly met him, but he seemed kind. He was never creepy or crude. There were even multiple occasions that you’d seen him order a girl an uber when she was far too gone to do it herself and he waited with them to make sure they got in safely. It was endearing.

He lets out a defeated sigh and you turn to look at him. “You okay?” you ask and his head whips up to look at you. “Me? Yeah, sorry. I’m here for my birthday and all my friends are gonna be here late so I’m kinda bummed”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Happy birthday, though” you smile and he smiles back. He’s cute. Way too cute to be sad on his birthday. “Thanks. I know it’s totally lame to be a grown man and be upset about this” he chuckles. “No, I get it! I’d be sad too. You’re never too old to wanna have fun on your birthday, right?”

“Right. I’m Steve, by the way” he introduces himself. “y/n.” you respond. “I like that name. Suits you” Is he flirting with you? Is it bad that you hope he is? “Thanks. Had it my whole life” you say and he laughs.

“What are you drinking, birthday boy?” you ask due to the lack of alcohol in his glass. “Jack and coke. Why?”

“Hey, Tony!” you get the bartender's attention “Can I get a jack and coke and two tequila shots with limes, please?” you request. “On it, sugar” Tony replies before going to fetch the drinks.

“You know him by name? You always come in here to cheer up sad guys on their birthdays?” he teases and you shake your head. “No” you laugh “I, um, I come in here whenever I have a fight with my boyfriend, which is pretty often. I guess I should get some better coping habits, huh?”

Boyfriend. ‘Of course you have a boyfriend’ Steve thinks to himself. Just his luck that the pretty girl he’s been admiring from afar for two months has a boyfriend.

“What was it about? The fight, I mean” He wonders and hopes you don’t get upset with him for asking. “Oh, I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on me” you say it so casually Steve assumes this isn’t the first time you’ve had this thought. “Shit, I’m sorry. Why do you think that? If you don’t mind me asking”

“He’s been having a lot of late nights at the ‘office’ lately and when he isn’t there, he’s always on the phone at two in the morning claiming it’s the office, but why would they need him that late? He’s shit at his job so he’s the last guy they should call. Oh, and I found an acrylic nail in his car that most definitely didn’t belong to me.” you sigh and feel a little embarrassed about the admission. You get enough judgment from yourself and you really don’t need it from the handsome man sitting next to you.

“Shit, that sucks. I got cheated on once and, god, it was rough”

“Yeah, it is. Are you in a relationship now?” Wow, subtle you think as soon as the question leaves your mouth. “Nope. Single as a pringle over here” he cringes when he says it, but you laugh and he realizes it wasn’t that bad if you thought it was cute, even if he feels like an idiot for saying it.

The bartender comes back to set your drinks in front of you and you thank him.

“You didn’t have to get me anything. I should be buying you drinks” he says and you shake your head at him “No way. It’s your birthday. I hope you like tequila. I didn’t even ask!” you exclaim and hand him the shot glass. “Are you kidding? I love it” he raises the shot glass to his lips but you stop him.

“Are you a neanderthal? We gotta lick salt off of our hands first”

“Oh we do, do we?” he cocks his head and raises his eyebrows. He’s so pretty that you feel like you’re already tipsy before you’ve even had one full drink. “Yes, obviously. Salt, tequila, lime. It’s math” you state. “The only math I know is me plus tequila equals bad decisions” he responds and you lean in close to him. “I’d like to test that” you whisper and he gulps. His cheeks flush and you can’t help but smile. “o-okay, so, um, salt first?” he stammers.

You grab a salt shaker and his hand. He feels dizzy from your touch and he can’t imagine what it’ll be like after he’s had a few drinks. “You gotta lick your hand” you move his hand near his mouth and wait for him to do so.

“You don’t wanna do that for me?” he smirks “Mm, you’d like that. Maybe the next one, though” you playfully wink.

“I’m gonna hold you to that. Permission to take the shot?”

“Permission granted”

You clink your glasses together and throw the tequila back. It slightly burns your throat, but oddly in a good way. You feel warmth spread throughout your body and you aren’t sure if it’s from the alcohol or from the way Steve hasn’t stopped looking at you.

“Next rounds on me and no way we’re getting another shot of that” he grimaces. “I thought you said you loved tequila” you pout and he wants to kiss the expression right off your face. “I like when pretty girls take tequila shots with me” he corrects and you roll your eyes. “Alright, casanova. Unfortunately, this place doesn’t let you buy your own drinks on your birthday. Weird, right?”

“So weird, considering I bought my first drink all on my own. How about I play you in a game of pool and loser buys” he suggests. “But I suck at pool” you whine and he stands up from his seat. “C’mon, I’ll go easy on you” he offers you his hand to help you down from the stool and you gladly accept the offer.

“Do you wanna break?” he asks as he lines up the solids and stripes in formation. “No, you can. Might put you at an advantage and you’ll probably need it” you tease. “Oh really? Thought you said you suck at pool?”

“I suck at pool, not trash talk” you clarify. “Ah, I see how it is. Watch and learn, pretty girl”

Steve breaks and of course one of the balls goes into a pocket because he’s annoyingly good at everything from what you’ve seen so far. “Solids it is. You might wanna take a seat, I think I’m about to be on a streak” he jokingly gloats.

Steve makes three in a row and it’s finally your turn. You assume what you thought was the correct position because it’s 8-ball and there’s really only one way you can do this.

“That’s your form? No wonder you suck”

“How many forms are there? This is, like, standard form” you defend and he tsks. “You gotta- hold on, I’ll show you.” Steve sets down his cue stick and walks over to you.

“First, you’re kinda hunched over weird” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, signaling for you to arch a bit more and you comply. “y-yeah.That's good. Next, you gotta position your hips in line with the ball. It helps with aim” He doesn’t actually know if that’s true, but he still gently grabs your hips to position you. When you move, your ass brushes his crotch and he lets out a small gasp at the contact.

“Now what?” you ask since Steve hasn’t moved or said anything in about ten seconds. “Oh, um, now the way you hold the cue stick. It’s abysmal the way you do it”

“Show me then?” you ask, sweetly and look over your shoulder at him. “Here, like this” He moves his arms to position them with yours. “This” he starts and you can feel his breath on your neck, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin “helps you keep it steady. Look what happens when we go to shoot”

He moves the cue stick to demonstrate and pushes himself closer to you. “You wanna keep a nice grasp on it- yeah, just like that- it can be kinda hard at first, but once you find a rhythm it’s simple. You don’t wanna be too rough or too soft with it, either. Gotta find the perfect in-between”

“You’re still talking about pool, right?”you kid. “Do you want me to still be talking about pool?” he whispers in your ear and it’s so difficult to keep your composure. “Mhm. Still gotta kick your ass, don’t I?”

You do, in fact, kick Steve’s ass.

“I told you I’d win!” you exclaim, jumping with glee. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I owe you a drink now”

Truth be told, Steve let you win. Not only did he want to buy you a drink, seeing pure joy on your face is worth the relentless teasing he's going to endure for the rest of the night.

“Yeah, you do” you respond, stepping closer to him so there’s barely any space between your bodies. He wants to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him so badly, but he worries he’s crossing a line. Sure, you’ve been flirty with each other and a little touchy, but you’re still in a relationship. What if you’re just trying to have a little fun before going back to your douchebag of a boyfriend?

“What’re you thinking about?” you ask “You look all serious with a hint of confused”

“Just wondering how the hell you beat me in pool” he lies.

You take the plunge and wrap your arms around his torso. He feels drunk on your touch. The scent of your perfume and the way you’re looking up with him with your alluring eyes is driving him crazy.

“I’m just that good” you boast. “I think you just had a really good teacher” he moves his hands to rest on your waist, gently moving his hands up and down to rub your sides. “yeah, he is. He’s too handsome, though. Makes it hard to focus”

He puts his hand under your chin, keeping your head tilted up so he can look at you. “I think I might be able to make that up to you”

Your eyes flutter close as Steve leans in so slowly that it’s almost painful. His lips brush ever so slightly over yours and the anticipation is killing you. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers, lips hovering over yours. “Please”

He graciously presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, simple yet effective. The kiss isn’t heated or messy, but you can feel the passion. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this, like everything else around you has become insignificant except for this one moment.

Steve’s nerves get the best of him and he pulls back sooner than you’d like him to, causing you to whine at the loss of contact.

“Why’d you stop?” you pout. “I just can’t think of the last time a girl made me this nervous” he confesses with a nervous chuckle. “I make you nervous?” you ask, surprised. “Are you kidding? It took me two months to even work up the courage to just sit next to you.”

“Two months? I think we have a lot of lost time to make up for”

“I’m gonna tell my friends not to bother then we can get outta here” he says, pulling his phone out. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not going anywhere, so we can stay”

“Good, because they’re already on their way” he tells you once he reads a text from Robin that says:

on our way, dingus. prepare to throw up tonight

“Dingus, huh? Suits you” you giggle and he presses a chaste peck to your lips to avoid more teasing, and also just because you look so pretty right now that he couldn’t resist.

“Oh, you’re gonna fit in with them perfectly”

Steve was right, you fit in with his friends like you’ve known them for years.The introduction felt a bit awkward at first, but after that it was smooth sailing.

You seemed like a completely different person tonight, compared to the melancholy girl he’s so used to seeing drink alone at the bar. You’re fun, witty, and you have a smile that lights up a room. It unfathomable to him that someone who’s lucky enough to call you theirs would fuck it up so badly. He admits he’s crossing his fingers that you’ll give him a chance to show you how you actually deserve to be treated.

You and Steve are currently watching Robin beat Eddie in their fifth game of 8-ball. Steve hugs you from behind and you both sway to the rhythm of the music. He occasionally presses a delicate kiss to your neck, or shoulder, or cheek, basically anywhere he can kiss. It makes you shiver every time.

“Can we go sit on that stool over there?” you ask, pointing to a stool not too far from the pool table. “yeah, let me go grab another chair”

“I don’t know. Looks big enough for the two of us, don’t ya think?”

And that’s how you end up sitting on Steve’s lap. Your ass is pressed against his crotch and he swears that if you keep moving, he’ll finish before anything has even started.

“Baby” he whines, hands gripping your hips to keep you in place “you gotta stop moving”

“Sorry, handsome. Am I hurting you?” you ask, voice filled with concern. “No, no. It’s just your keep grinding-”

“Oh! well, I’m not sorry then” you smirk and he can’t wait to get you back for that.

His hand trails up your leg and stops once he reaches your inner thigh, leaving his hand to rest there after giving it a rough squeeze. His thumb occasionally rubs your skin and if he was just a few inches higher, his thumb could brush your clothed core. He wants to so badly. He wants to tease you until you can’t take it, but he knows you’re waiting for him to do so and he decides he’ll let you wait in anticipation instead.

The corner you’re in is barely lit and the bar itself is already dark, it’s practically begging Steve to make you whimper while he has his hand in your panties.

Steve buries his face in your neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the column of your throat. His index finger plays with the hem of your panties and you let out a small gasp.

“You want me to touch you?” he mutters through kisses. “Yes” you breathe out. “Ask nicely”

“Please touch me, Steve”

He pushes your panties to the side and his finger glides through your slit and grazes over your clit causing you to let out a moan that’s a little too loud. “Quiet, baby. You don’t wanna get caught do you?”

“n-no. I’ll be quiet” you answer without trying to moan again. “Good girl”

He rubs slow, tight circles on your clit and you grasp onto him tightly to avoid falling off the stool. “already so wet. what’s got you so worked up?”

“you, steve. Just you”

You can’t recall the last time you had been touched like this, in a public place nonetheless. It’s exhilarating. His touch feels like it’s brought you back to life. You’ve been spending the last three years of your life in a dark night, waiting and hoping for someone to bring you daylight.

You aren’t the sad girl who stays at home while her boyfriend is out doing god knows what. Right now you’re Steve’s girl and it’s the best thing you’ve felt in a long time.

Steve’s pace grows faster, causing you to let out a whimper. His other hand comes up to your mouth to try and muffle your noises, but he’s so desperate to hear them.

“I’m gonna make a deal with you, okay?” he begins “if you can be quiet when you cum, I’ll take you back to my place and make cum over and over again until you’re screaming. that sound good?” you nod rapidly at his words and he goes back to kissing your neck.

He presses another finger to your clit, giving it a few more quick rubs before moving his fingers down to your entrance. He slowly inserts his fingers, curling them to hit the right spot. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet. Can’t wait to see what you feel like around my cock” you clench at his words and he lets out a low chuckle.

“You like that baby? Thinking about my cock?” you nod again, scared if you try to speak you’ll let out an emphatic moan. His fingers pump in and out of you, his pace almost relentless “What are you thinking about? How deep inside you I’ll be? How hard I’m gonna pound you?”

The thought of his cock is enough for the feeling in your abdomen builds and builds. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers. Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

As if on command, your sweet release hits you and you cum around his fingers. He peppers kisses along your jaw to soothe you through your orgasm, which is the first one you’ve had in a long time that you didn’t have to do yourself.

Steve removes his hand from your mouth and withdraws his fingers from your soaking core. You grab his hand and suck off your juices from his fingers. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so hard in his life.

“Holy shit. I need to fuck you now” he groans and you let out a laugh while trying to catch your breath.

Once Steve requests an uber and you say you’re goodbyes, you both stand outside, kissing each other like your life depends on it. You fist his shirt to pull him as close as possible. His hands rest on your ass, occasionally giving you a rough squeeze. Your legs are still a bit wobbly, so he has his thigh between your legs to support you. You can’t help but grind against his thigh and moan into his mouth at the sensitivity.

Your uber pulls up and Steve is definitely going to have to give the driver five stars for what he just witnessed.

It’s hard to keep your hands off each other in the backseat, but you keep it to a minimum due to the poor stranger who was unlucky enough to be the driver for two very horny individuals.

“We’re about three minutes from my place. Think you can handle another one?” he mutters in your ear before gently nibbling your earlobe then kissing down until he reaches your collarbone. “I think the real question is if you can handle me, Stevie”

You and Steve hurriedly get out of the uber before it even comes to a complete stop. He kisses you all the way up to his door and struggles with the keys, making you giggle into the kiss.

“Shit, sorry. Hold on” His hands are shaky as he tries to open the door. “Steve, relax. I’m not going anywhere”

The door finally unlocks and you’re back on each other as soon as you’re inside. His hands travel down to the back of your thighs and you jump to wrap your legs around his waist.

He carries you all the way to his bedroom and you both flop down on his bed. Steve’s weight on top of you feels so familiar, despite this being the first time you’re sleeping together. In this moment, it feels like nothing bad could happen to you. You’ve never felt more secure with someone.

Your hands fly to the hem of his shirt and once it’s removed he wastes no time kissing you again.

“Take your clothes off for me, gorgeous” he demands. As you take your top off, Steve slowly drags your skirt down your legs before tossing it on the floor. “Can we take this off too?” he slides down the strap of your bra and you reach behind your back to undo the clasp.

“Oh my god” he groans once your tits are free. It’s almost like an automatic response when his hand massages your tit, thumb brushing over your nipple, causing you to whimper. “Lay back. Gonna make you feel so fucking good’’ he practically growls.

Steve wants to tease you a little, but he can’t resist the urge to wrap his lips around your breast while his hand massages the other one. You feel wetness pooling in your center and you need him to touch your pussy, but he looks so fucking enthralled with your tits that you can’t even complain.

He eventually trails kisses down your stomach, pulling your panties down while doing it. “Bet you taste so fucking sweet. Can I find out?”

“yes, steve, please!” you cry out. He licks a stripe through your slit and you shiver when his tongue catches your clit.

He presses a kiss to your bud before devouring you. No teasing, no anticipation, just him licking and sucking your clit like a man starved. Two of his fingers slowly enter you and his eyes roll in the back of his head when you let out a guttural moan.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum and even when you do, he doesn’t stop.

“Steve!” you yelp at the overstimulation. You’ve never felt anything like this before. Your boyfriend rarely goes down on you and you also rarely even cum from sex. Even times when you do, it’s a one and done situation.

“Fuck yes” you cry. Tears begin to fill your eyes and he hasn’t even been inside you yet. You can’t imagine how good it’s going to be to have his cock fill you up.

Your third orgasm of the night approaches even quicker. You have to practically pry Steve off your pussy so you can recover.

“Holy shit” you say, breathless. “So that was good?”

“Oh, don’t even try to be modest. I think my soul ascended for a second. I’m gonna need a minute to recover though” you laugh and he has a smug look on his face that makes him look devilishly handsome. “We don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to”

“Shut up and take your pants off, big boy” you respond and he wastes no time fumbling with his jeans to get them off as quickly as possible. “Boxers too, please” you add.

Your mouth drops once his cock springs free. You honestly just thought he just had something in his pocket when you were sitting on his lap, but that clearly wasn’t the case.

“Is that reaction good or bad?”

“It’s good and you know it. Do you have a condom?” you ask and he nods, opening up his nightstand drawer to retrieve it.

He positions himself between your legs and sits on his knees. “Can I put it on you?” you ask, shyly. “Go for it”

You wrap your hand around his cock, giving him a few pumps. He throws his head back and moans “That feels so good, but I wanna cum in your pussy, not your hand, baby”

Your core throbs at his words and the excitement of having him inside you builds and builds. You slide the condom on his length before laying back and spreading your legs for him.

He swears he could cum right now just looking at you. Your dripping pussy on display for him and only him. Your sweet tits just begging to be in his hands and the look of pure lust on your face is enough for him to lose his mind.

“Ready?” he lines his cock up with your entrance and you moan out a ‘yes’

You both moan in unison when he puts the tip in. Slowly and inch by inch, his cock fills you up so perfectly. Like you were made for each other.

You gasp when he begins to thrust. He’s slow at first and you need him to go faster.

“Faster, please”

“Wanna hear you beg for it. How badly do you need it?”

“So fucking bad. Please go faster, I’ll be so good. I promise” you beg. “How hard do you want it?”

“I want it hard, Stevie. Don’t wanna be able to walk after”

That was all he needed to hear before he starts pounding into you at a ruthless pace. His eyes focus on the way your tits jiggle and his hand that isn’t on his headboard grabs your breast, squeezing and massaging at just the right amount of roughness.

“You feel so good, y/n. Could live in this fucking pussy, shit” he says through gritted teeth when he feels the way you squeeze his cock.

“Fuck, right there!” you exclaim as he hits your spot over and over again. You feel like you’re seeing stars. It’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that it feels this good.

“I’m so close” he moans “you gonna cum with me, sweetheart?’’

“Uh-huh” you barely get out. “What do you need? Want you to cum with me”

“Choke me, Steve. Please” It’s nearly impossible for him not to cum when you ask him to choke you. He wraps his hand around your throat, not squeezing, but keeping it there to remind you that you belong to him now.

“I-I I’m gonna cum” you stammer. “Me too, fuck. Let go, baby”

Steve collapses on top of you as he cums and you gush around him, your hips thrust so you can work through your orgasm on his cock. He moans in your ear over and over at the sensitivity and you come to the realization this is the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Shit, it’s the best sex you’ve ever had.

As you both come down from your highs, you play with his hair and he presses kisses along your collarbone. You lay in a serene silence and you both have loopy smiles on your face. His room smells of sex, sweat, and his cologne. You’re both severely dehydrated and exhausted, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Leave him” Steve says, his words muffled by his face being buried in your neck. “I can’t understand you, Steve” you giggle. He moves his head to look up at you. You get lost in his eyes. They’re beautifully golden and you truly believe you could stare into them forever. You could connect the freckles on his face like a constellation and he’s truly the most mesmeric person you’ve ever seen.

“Leave him” he repeats. “For you?” you ask, hopeful he says yes. “Not just for me, but for you too. You deserve the world, y/n, and I’m not saying I could give it to you, but I’d try a hell of a lot harder than he would” he promises.

You feel like you could burst into tears. You’ve known Steve for less than twelve hours and he’s made you feel more than your boyfriend ever did throughout three years.

“Okay” you whisper “I’ll do it for me and for you”

“yeah? you wanna be my girl?” he beams. “More than anything. Can we take things slow? well, starting now” you chuckle. “I’ll do whatever you want me to” he kisses the tip of your nose before laying his head on your chest.

You fall asleep in each other's arms that night and you break up with your now ex-boyfriend the next day, like you should’ve done a long time ago.

Who would’ve thought April 29th would change your life forever?

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington #18+ only #18+ fic #minors go away #mdni

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cocteaucherry · 3 months

Text

angst cuddling with suguru

cw- slight obsessive suguru at the end, depressed suguru, depressive episodes, slight allusions to not eating due to depressive episodes, gn!reader

{Just small thing I wrote! if you have any requests send them in please <33

This summer was tougher than usual

The rise of sweltering heat, the uprising in curses, and dealing with the lasting effects of Riko Amanai’s death. All these factors held the deadly combination of a horrific melancholy summer, the month filled with fun festivals and late nights turned out to be an inconvenience.

You remember the first day Suguru laid on your bed that summer, the sun was setting and the harsh heat blew more mild and humid. He briefed you on the short missions he was sent on, (coming to an all-time low now that Satoru had taken over all his serious missions)

“So Satoru is representing all of us at this point” you giggled toying with the air conditioner valve that sat on the wall, “Yeah. Guess so,” Suguru said rather dimly, he wore a shirt that used to fit perfectly on him now it was slightly baggy, his collarbone making a more outward appearance than usual.

“Why sound so glum about it? We get more free time now! Or are you upset that you can't hang with your soulmate all day?” you teased walking towards your plush bed, Suguru stood next to the foot of the bed, his knees buckling from the tired strain he put on them every day. It was getting harder for him to stand these days due to his lack of sleep and his small appetite. He was severely malnourished.

He didn't respond to your comment, instead standing in silence, you cleared your throat and collapsed on the bed as the AC finally kicked to life, a strong breeze of cold air filling the space. “You know you can sit down right?” you pulled your legs onto the bed glimpsing up at him through your eyelashes.

“I'm good really, I'm leaving soon anyway.” he offered a weak smile, “Come onn Suguru! Just relax!” you smiled brightly watching his lip twitch as he sat down. He refrained from making eye contact with you instead just staring at the wall.

“Are you okay Suguru?”

You were the first person to notice or ask him that.

Tears began to pour from his eyes as he harshly grasped the material of his sweatpants, “I'm not..” he mumbled and immediately felt the warm embrace of your arms around his torso, “Sugu…Why didn't you say anything..?” you whispered to him brushing his hair out of his face.

“I-I can’t,” he cried tilting his head up, “Everything I've built here would be for nothing..”

“You don't have to tell me.. Just stay here for right now.” you smiled softly moving to the right side of the bed as he followed, “is this why you've been so dismal Sugu?” you laid down picking at the lint on your cat plushie. “I look that bad?” he chuckled quietly trying to cover up his emotions, “I'm just tired… Exhausted from everything really.”

“I'm sorry Sugu..” you sighed, taking him in an embrace, his muscles loosened as his head fell to your shoulders. Your scent was calming to him, the smell of warm caramel and toasted vanilla filled his nose. He was deeply infatuated love with your scent.

“Can I stay here a bit longer..?” he whispered his tires eyes looking into yours, his dark circles being accentuated by the setting sun peeking through the blinds. “Of course Sugu..” You hummed with a smile as he slumped down further into your bed.

Hours later the sun had set and the alluring sound of summer cicadas filled the silence, Suguru felt at peace, the soft blow of the AC and the moonlight cascading across both of your bodies. He wished he could stay here forever, have the world stop and just sleep with you forever.

He knew he couldn’t, if he were to go about showing his true feelings. Maybe you would accept him and his view, be with him forever maybe?

His hand reached around your waist to pull you extremely close, Geto’s nose plunged into your hair taking in your scent once more.

“please..” he whispered quietly.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto angst #gn reader #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader

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agaypanic · 3 months

Note

Adam makes a friend in the cheerleading squad and introduces her to Bree and Chase but Chase kinda keeps his distance because hes so used to everyone having a crush on Adam or Bree and pushing him aside even though reader is very open about her crush on him and she gets so frustrated that she just kisses him

I Like Nerds (Chase Davenport X Cheerleader!Reader)

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Summary: Tired of history repeating itself, Chase doesn’t even bother trying to get to know you when Adam starts bringing you around. But when you ask him to help you out with an upcoming test, he realizes that you might not be so bad.

A/N: first fic post of the new year!!! also sorry it’s taken me so long to post something, writing’s been feeling so hard lately lol

***

You don’t know what you did wrong, to make Chase treat you this way. So cold and distant, when all you tried to be was nice. He’d been like this since the day you met, and the behavior never seemed to falter for a second.

It was really unfortunate. All you wanted from him was to like you. You were so excited when Adam invited you over to his house, because you’d finally get a proper introduction to the nerdy boy you’d been crushing on in the hallways.

“I hope they like me.” You murmured, more to yourself than to Adam, as you reached the front door of his place. When Adam invited you to hang out and meet his siblings after practice, you immediately said yes. You and Adam had gotten along the moment he joined the cheer squad, and his family seemed nice from your observations from afar. But seeing the giant house in front of you and thinking about what was on the other side of the door was starting to make you nervous.

“Don’t be silly; of course, they’ll like you!” Adam said with his usual cheerful demeanor. Without warning, he opened the door, dragging you into the house. “I like you!”

“Well, you like everyone, Adam.” You said with a laugh, the chuckle soon turning timid as you realized that Adam’s siblings were all sitting on the couch looking at the two of you. You absentmindedly smoothed out your cheer skirt, doing your best not to look at Adam’s nerdy brother too much. “Hi.”

“Guys, this is-”

“Y/n L/n.” Adam’s other brother Leo cut him off, standing up and walking over to you with a sly smile. “Best flyer on the cheer squad and Captain Stacy Brookfield’s right-hand girl.” You giggled at the description he gave you as he shook your hand. “I’m Leo Dooley. Now… about Stacy Brookfield-”

“Okay.” Adam pushed Leo’s shoulder. “That’s enough of that.” You did your best to stifle a snort as Adam ignored Leo’s whiny protests, pointing to his sister. “This is my sister, Bree.”

“We have got to hang out; I need girl time,” Bree said in a severe tone, making you grin. “I’m surrounded by these guys every day; I’m getting so sick of it.”

“Well, I know all the best spots for good girl time.” You responded, happy that Bree had seemed to take a liking to you already. “I’ll give you my number before I leave so we can set something up.”

Bree clapped gleefully before Adam stole your attention, pointing to who was sitting on the furthest seat on the couch.

“And that’s my brother, Chase.”

He looked up at the sound of his name, eyes landing on you. You wiggled your fingers to give him a small wave.

“Hey.” You smiled, glad you were finally getting a good introduction to this cute boy. He looked you up and down for a second, took a deep breath, and then looked back at the homework he was working on.

“Hi.”

So much for a good introduction.

That was about a month ago, and not much seemed to change. It’s not like Chase was mean, just… indifferent. He was polite enough to give a short wave back to you when you passed by, but he never did anything beyond that. He didn’t feel like trying to converse with you beyond pleasantries. When you came over to the Davenport household, usually for Adam or Bree, he seemed to busy himself with homework or something else so he wouldn’t have to interact with you.

You tried to tell yourself that he was like that with everyone, so the standoffishness didn’t hurt you as much.

But now you had a chance to maybe change Chase’s attitude. Or at least find out the reason behind it. You had an upcoming test in your math class, probably your worst subject. You knew that Chase was smart, most likely the most intelligent guy in school. So, when you were in the living room waiting for Bree to get ready to go to the mall with you and saw Chase walk into the kitchen, you decided to seize your opportunity.

“Hey, Chase.” You said, a pep in your step as you walked to the kitchen and sat on one of the bar stools. He looked up at you, seeming surprised, like he hadn’t noticed you were there.

“Hey, Y/n.” His voice was timid, a bit confused.

Before he could get the chance to run off, you leaned forward on the counter.

“Chase, could you do me a favor?” You rested your head in your hands, giving him a sweet smile.

“Maybe…” He grabbed a drink from the fridge and faced you, picking at the bottle cap. “What is it?”

“Well, I have a math test coming up, and I’m, like, the worst at remembering all the formulas and stuff. So I was wondering if you could maybe help me?” You bit your lip in anticipation, hoping he’d say yes.

Chase had a feeling you’d ask him something like this at some point. Whenever his siblings brought someone new around, more often than not, he was eventually asked to help the friend either get with his brother or sister or help them with some homework.

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, I really-”

“If you need me to pay you, I totally can!” You quickly added. “I don’t wanna, like, take advantage of your brain or anything.” You said with a nervous laugh.

“No,” Chase said without thinking. He mentally kicked himself; why would he say no to money? Although Mr. Davenport was rich, that didn’t mean Chase was. He cleared his throat. “No, you don’t have to pay me. I mean, any friend of Adam and Bree’s is a friend of mine, right?”

You grinned, happy that he was willing to help you. It stung a bit that he considered you a friend by association instead of just a friend, but you were sure that that would be fixed after a few study sessions.

“Great! Thank you so much, Chase!”

“Y/n, I’m ready.” Bree came bounding down the stairs, and although you were excited to go out with her, you were a bit disappointed that your time with Chase was being cut short.

“One second, Bee.” You said, giving her a smile before turning back to Chase. You dug around in your bag for a loose piece of paper and a pen. “Here’s my number.” You said, scribbling it down along with a smiley face before handing it to him. “Text me, and we’ll set up a date.”

Chase’s cheeks seemed to redden as he took the piece of paper from you, giving it a quick glance before smiling at you.

“Got it.”

“Y/n, come on!” Bree took hold of your arm and started to drag you out of the house. You gave Chase a quick wave and grinned when he waved back to you with slightly more enthusiasm than before.

***

A week later, the day before your test, you were about to have your third study session with Chase. You were happy to see that Chase had been warming up to you a bit. Maybe you just needed some alone time with him to get him to open up. He was starting to make small talk with you when you saw each other, greeting you first when you’d come through the door. You were honestly a bit baffled when you came over one night to watch a movie with him and his siblings, and he moved his homework out of the way instead of focusing on it so you could sit next to him.

You came to the Davenports with Adam, coming straight from cheer practice. When you got close to the house, you suddenly realized you didn’t have any comfortable clothes to change into. Sure, you had the clothes you wore to school, but you didn’t feel like going back into your jeans and top that wasn’t the best for lounging around.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked, spotting the pout on your face.

“I just realized I forgot to pack something comfy in my bag.” You groaned. “Now I either gotta stay in uniform until I get home or put my jeans back on.”

“You can borrow something from me, if you want,” Adam said.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah, sure!”

You and Adam went inside and saw Chase sitting on the couch, a math textbook and some paper on the coffee table. He perked up at the sight of you.

“Hey, Chase!” You greeted, setting your backpack next to him. “I’m gonna get out of this real quick, and then we can get started.” Chase nodded, flipping the textbook open to the page you ended on from your last study session.

“Come on, Y/n. My room’s this way.” Adam’s giant hand clasped around yours, leading you down the hall, and you missed Chase snapping his head to look at the two of you walking away.

When you came back to the living room about ten minutes later, you missed the way Chase clenched his jaw at the sight of you. You were wearing Adam’s clothes, almost drowning in his oversized shirt and sweatpants, with your cheer uniform neatly folded and tucked under your arm.

“Hey.” You smiled at Chase, taking your math notebook out of your backpack and stuffing in your uniform. You settled next to Chase and grabbed a pen. “So, what are we working on?”

Chase stared at you for a second, and you started to feel a bit skittish under his gaze. He took a deep breath before looking away from you, giving a half-hearted gesture towards the open textbook.

“Just review.”

You frowned at the lackluster response from him. You wondered what had happened between ten minutes ago and now to dim Chase’s mood. But you didn’t want to poke and prod, so you simply nodded and started looking at the textbook.

A few minutes passed, and Chase was filled with thoughts that needed to be let out.

“So, what’s up with you and Adam?” He asked, trying to appear nonchalant. You looked at him confused, before looking back at your notebook, trying to work out a problem.

“What about me and Adam?”

“Are you guys like… together, or what?” You dropped your pen at the question, not expecting it at all. You snorted, and Chase frowned. It was bad enough that you were wearing his brother’s clothes, but laughing at him dampened his mood a bit more. Until you responded.

“God, no!” You laughed. “I mean, I like Adam, he’s really nice. But not like that.”

“Really?” Chase asked, watching you pick your pen back up.

“Not at all! I like nerds.” You didn’t mean to let that slip, but you tried not to let it show.

“Really?” Chase asked again, only this time sounding more interested.

“Yeah!” You smiled at him. “Muscles are cool and all, but I dunno. In this world, I think smarts should be considered superior.” You scribbled a few more things down before showing Chase your notebook. “Is this right?” You asked hopefully.

He only needed to take a quick glance to see whether you were correct or not, and you were. He nodded and smiled at the tiny squeal you gave out in celebration before moving on to the next review question.

***

“I’m sure you did great, Y/n,” Chase reassured you as you paced back and forth in the hall. Your eyes were glued to your phone, waiting for a notification. “You worked really hard this past week; there’s no doubt you got a good grade.”

You had taken your math test today and were now impatiently waiting for the results. Your teacher said she’d have the tests graded and put into the gradebook by the end of the school day. But it’s been fifteen minutes since the last bell of the day rang, and there’s still been no change in your grade or notification of your test results.

“No, Chase. I, like, totally blanked on half the questions. There’s no way I passed.”

“Y/n, if you keep walking around like that, you’re gonna burn a hole through the floor.” Chase grabbed your shoulders and turned you to face him. You would’ve been flustered by the close proximity if you weren’t so worried about your academic standing. If you did about as bad as you think you did on this test, there’s no way you’d be able to cheer at the next few football games. “I’m sure you did really good.”

“But-”

“I know you did.” Chase looked like he was about to say something more when your phone buzzed. You looked down fast enough to see that it was a notification about your grade, and although you had been so impatient for it, now you didn’t want to look.

“You look at it.” You shoved the phone into Chase’s hand, clasping your own together as you waited for the blow. “Well? What did I get?”

Chase looked at your phone to see the grade and grinned up at you.

“You got an A.”

“What?”

“You got an A!”

“Oh my God!”

Any people passing by probably thought the two of you were going crazy, but you didn’t care at all. You were beyond thrilled, and Chase was so proud of you. You clapped and jumped on the balls of your feet before roping Chase into a hug, which he eagerly returned.

“Thank you so much! I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, Chase.” You pulled back and, overwhelmed by the moment of ecstasy, pecked Chase on the lips. It was quick, but when you realized what you had done, you gasped and covered your mouth. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I-”

Chase didn’t let you continue. Instead, he pulled your hand away from your mouth and kissed you, this time longer and more focused. The hand that wasn’t still wrapped around your waist buried itself into your hair. You tried not to smile too much as you kissed him back.

Smarts were definitely superior.

#agaypanic #chase davenport x reader #chase davenport #lab rats x reader #lab rats

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jellyfishoreo1206 · 11 months

Text

WE ARE NOT SEEING ENOUGH OF MIRAGE GUYS

So I'm taking matters into my own goddamn hands-

Meeting Mirage ;)

Either Noah or Mirage might be a little OOC, but I'm giving it a shot

Takes place after the movie, with fem pronouns

Enjoy!

-------

Dude, where the hell are you?

Y/N was currently sent a page to Noah, her best friend of 3 years. He was suppose to pick her up from work, as her car broke down and is still getting fixed at the mechanics, but it was well over 20 minutes and he still hasn't showed. He was suppose to be there at 7:30, and now it's almost dark.

I'kl be there in 10 minutes! Domething just csme uo

Several typos, whatever the hell is happening over there is really making him either rush or panic... actually those are both kind of in the same sense.

Letting out a sigh through her nose, Y/N quickly typed out a response.

Yeah, yeah. Better keep to your promise, Sonic.

Not even letting him respond, the H/C-nette shoved the device into her coat pocket. Sure it may be the beginning of the summer, but she get cold easily.

And I mean very easily.

"Man, I really need a hot shower right now."

10 minutes breezed by quickly, seemingly in a blink of an eye. About to page Noah again, Y/N stopped in her tracks when a honk sounded in front of her.

Looking up, her eyes widen in complete surprise at the image in front of them. Her best friend, Noah Diaz, in a fucking Porsche. Well, it looked like it seen better days, but still.

"Yo, you gonna get in or are you just gonna stand there looking so surprised?" Noah shouted from inside the car, a smug look on his face.

Snapping out of it, Y/N got inside the car, buckling in her seatbelt.

Once the seatbelt clicked, Noah started the car onto the route back to Y/N's apartment complex. 5 minutes in and the two are making small talk and all that before Y/N asked him a question.

"So, what happened?"

"Hm?"

"To the Porsche. Looks like Frankenstein's monster."

Noah let's out a small chuckle at the comment, "Oh uh, some guy sold it to me for a good price. Because it was all banged up and stuff. Couldn't even start."

"When did you get it?"

"Got it 2 months ago, still has some kinks that need to be fixed. But we've made some progress." He patted the dashboard in a comforting way, a somber smile on his face.

"2 months ago? Weren't you in Perú during that time? Also is Reeks helping you fix the car?"

"Yeah. I think I made a pretty good decision going there..also Reeks is just helping me get the parts, I'm mainly doing the fixing."

"Mm, pretty good job so far. I could help with the paint job? The blue and silver seems to be fading out, but I think it a fresh coat will make it look gorgeous."

After she finished that comment, the car felt like it heated up a little. Not too much to notice, but just enough.

"By the way, what did you do in Perú again?"

"Oh, to study for a job I was doing..got to see some of the landscapes and all that..and nearly died-"

"What was that?"

"Wha-nothing! Don't worry about it at all."

A silence fell between you too, an awkward silence to be exact. He's a little more fidgety than usual.. probably from exhaustion. It's something he does whenever he's very tired. Man, he must be more exhausted than usual.

"Sorry I called you so late, like right after your new job and stuff. It must be tiring."

"Nah I don't mind, you're my best friend after all. Just returning the favor when you babysat Kris last minute." Now Y/N absolutely loves Noah's family. First time she met them, it felt like a bond just, instantly clicked within. So from that day on, she makes a little time out of her day just to visit the Diaz family, especially Kris. He was so sweet, and like the little brother she never had. So whenever Noah or his mom were busy, she babysits him, and brings some food so they can enjoy together.

"I don't mind babysitting Kris at all. He's like a little brother to me anyway."

"Yeah, that's Kris. Best little brother I could ever ask for." A soft smile comes to his face, maybe he should bring some food from that burger joint his family likes, before he goes home so his mom doesn't have to cook tonight.

"Yeah..Hey do you mind if I put in my playlist?"

"Go for it."

Grabbing a mixtape from her pocket, she inserts it into the slot right above the radio, turning the knob to hear what was currently playing.

The familiar rhythm of Virgen by Adolescent's Orquesta brings a smile to your face, increasing the volume as one of her favorite songs plays through the car. Every so often, she would sing along to the lyrics, taping her fingers against the door.

What Y/N didn't know, was a certain Autobot mech was observing her in the passenger seat mirror, noticing the small things about her that seemed to have caught even more of his interest. The moment she got in the car, Mirage had to admit, she was PRETTY. And the compliments she said? Wooo that was feeding his ego.

And she was drop-dead gorgeous, in his optics, he doesn't even know her one bit and he's on his knees just from the sound of her voice. Oh her voice, don't even get him started on her voice. Most purest thing he has ever heard since he had stepped foot on Earth. Got her filling his tanks with a fluttery feeling, or as Noah sometimes likes to refer to, butterflies. What a weird thing to say. (Ngl, I head cannon Mirage to fall in love FAST)

After those few thoughts, the mech started observing her other features. Her eyes, hair, lips, cheeks, hands, even the smallest of moles/freckles that were dotted across her face. Oh and when her smile plastered her face, Mirage felt his spark beat faster.

She was a beauty, a beauty in her own category..

Sadly he wasn't able to admire her much longer, as they stopped in front of her apartment, the sky now completely dark. About to open the car door, the lock clicks, preventing Y/N from getting out. Thinking nothing of it, Y/N goes to unlock it, but it keeps repeatedly locking itself. With a huff, Y/N turns to Noah.

"Dude can you stop that shit?"

"It's not me I swear! Li-like I said, Mir-! The car was all banged up when I got it, still got a few bugs in it.." And as subtly as possible, kept kicking right above the pedals. Not to harshly, but to get the message across to stop messing around.

Finally after what seemed to be forever, the car doors unlocked, with Y/N getting out of the car, making sure to grab her tape. Running a hand over the hood, not noticing the shudder of metal, Y/N waves goodbye to Noah before entering her building, already getting excited for her hot shower.

When Y/N was out of sight and earshot, Noah turned to the radio, somewhat pissed.

"Mirage, what the hell was that??"

"Whaaaat? I did nothing wrong. Also, ouch. Do you have to kick me that hard? I'm still recovering y'know." You could hear the teasing smile on his face, pulling the recovery card whenever.

"Mirage you can't do that."

"Why not? Not like she noticed anything."

"You just can't!"

"Aww but I wanna keep admiring la angel bonita un momento más."

"..what."

"I wanna keep ad-"

"I know what you said, but, seriously?"

"You gotta introduce me to her one day, Sonic."

"Mirage she's going to freak out!"

"Mm but what are the chances she won't? Pleaseeee? I won't stop bothering you unless you say yesss~" He coos in a sing-song voice.

"Nu uh, ain't happening. Just because you're acting like a kid doesn't mean you're getting it."

"Fine. But whenever you give her ride home, I'll just keep locking the doors."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Noah leaned back into the recliner, pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration. Whenever Mirage says he'll do something, he will follow through. He's ambitious like that. So either; Stay with the no but have Mirage be a brat for who knows how long, or, just get it over with.

"Sooo..Is that a yes?"

He was quiet for a bit, before letting out a sigh,"Fine, fine! Yes, it's a yes."

"Hell yeah, baby! Oh I already have so many places to meet up for dates-"

"DUDE."

------

So that concludes my first post! I like how this (somewhat) turned out, but it's a first. I've made some edits to this and the second part will be out soon, so I'm sorry for keeping you guys waiting!

Part 2 here!

#rotb mirage x reader #rotb mirage #hes so bbg fr #wanna kiss his dumb cute face so much #transformers #transformerstheriseofbeasts #x reader #first post #transformers x reader #mirage x reader #bayverse

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yougottalovebuckybarnes · 2 months

Note

Hi, I’m so sorry that you have been having a hard time and that you can’t graduate when you wanted to I know that must be hard but you’re taking the time to look after yourself and that’s the most import thing!!!!

If and when you’re up to it I’d love to see a part 3 of forgive me, also maybe with a bit of Sam included? I’m a strong believer that Sam would 100% be on Bucky and Y/n side

Forgive Me, Pt. 3 (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: This request for a third part was from AGES ago, so I apologize for the long delay lol. On the plus side, I’ve finally graduated from college so that is no longer a worry! :) Anyway, this series will definitely be getting a Part 4. I couldn’t stop writing and coming up with more ideas lol. I hope you all enjoy!

==========

“Hate” had always been such a harsh word to me. Of all the feelings that existed, that was the one that I never could seem to grasp fully. Perhaps my heart was too soft or my nature too forgiving, but I had yet to find a person that I truly hated.

I could not even find it in me to hate Steve Rogers, despite all that had happened. Forgiveness was still a work in progress, but perhaps one day I would forgive him completely.

It had been three months since Bucky had found me in our bathroom with an open medication bottle in my hand, and it had been equally as long since he had spoken to the rest of the team. While I found it impossible to hate any of them, Bucky could not stand to even look at them. We had moved out of the compound within twenty four hours of his confrontation with Steve and hadn’t been back since.

Our little apartment in the city was comfortable, but it was not home. I knew that Bucky felt the same, but he refused to admit it out loud. Several attempts to urge him to reach out to Steve had not gone well, and my heart ached as I witnessed his anger consume him. Bucky had reassured me that I was all he needed now, but I knew deep down that he needed his friends, especially Steve. This anger would destroy him if not confronted properly.

And that was why I reached out first.

I found myself in a quiet little cafe in the city on a early Tuesday morning, sipping on an iced late as I watched people make their way down the street to work. The chair across from me scrapped on the ground, and I looked up to find Steve Rogers taking a seat. His face was solemn, almost shameful as his eyes made contact with mine. It was a version of him that I was unfamiliar with. The weeks of sneering and secret glares had melted away into shame and regret.

Part of me thought I should be content, seeing him humbled in this way. But I could not find it in me to rejoice in this. Steve Rogers was doing just as bad as Bucky was, losing his best friend the way that he had. There had to be a way to remedy this.

“Good morning, Steve.” I spoke softly, watching him evenly.

“Good morning.” Steve nodded in response, looking a little uneasy. “Look, Y/N-“

“You know why I asked to meet with you.” I prompted, pushing past the need for small talk to get into what really mattered. I was also quite honestly not ready to accept his apology either, if that was what he trying to do.

“Yeah.” He sighed, looking away briefly. “I don’t know what else I can do. Bucky won’t respond to any of my messages and I wouldn’t dare show up uninvited to your apartment.”

“That would not have gone well.” I agreed, sipping again on my beverage. “But we need to fix this, Steve. I’ve never seen him like this before. He needs you.”

“No, he needs you.” Steve replied, his voice remaining even. “And I realize that now. I didn’t know how much he cared for you until that night. Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t tell me that you two got married.”

“That really surprised you?” I asked with a slight scoff. “After how you all treated me?”

“I’m not looking for a fight.” He held up his hands slightly. “I’m just wanting to fix things.”

It was silent for a moment, and I let out a small sigh as I nodded in agreement. We were both in agreement for at least this one thing. While I did care for Steve and the others like family before this mess, all I cared about now was making sure Bucky was cared for and supported. In order to do so, we had to work together.

“Is Sam in town?”

“He is.” Steve nodded. “I’m thinking he might be able to help best since he was nutural in this whole thing. Just talk things over with him. If it doesn’t work, we can figure something else out.”

“I agree.” I glanced at my phone, seeing a text from Bucky asking where I was. I began to rise from my place at the small table. “I have to go now. Let me know when Sam can come over to see him.”

“Wait.” Steve’s voice caused me to stop and I looked over at him. “I…I never gave you a chance to explain your side of things, and for that, I’m sorry. I should not have treated you the way that I did.”

I looked at him evenly, my heart aching in my chest at the memories of the day prior to my attempt and Bucky’s hospitalization. After a few moments of silence, I gave him a sad smile. “If you want to know what happened, look at the Tony’s camera feeds from that day. The journalist stopped me at the front entrance to the building so you should have clear audio. It’ll tell you all you need to know.”

And without another word, I grabbed my purse and made my way back towards my apartment.

===========

Bucky’s POV

It had been odd waking up without Y/N by my side. That had been all but established as part of our routine, early mornings spent together in bed. But for some reason that had been broken on a random Tuesday, and part of me wanted to investigate why.

But her return only an hour later had washed all my worries away and our regular life routines resumed as normal for the next week. Part way through the week, Y/N had left the apartment to run a few errands so I was left on my own on the couch watching reruns of ‘The Office’. But a sharp knock on my door interrupted my plans of relaxation.

I approached the door, assuming that Y/N had forgotten her key inside after I had locked it behind her. But the familiar face of Sam Wilson surprised me as I found him on the other side. “Sam?”

“How’ve you been, man? “ Sam smiled.

“How do you know where I live?” I returned a smile hesitantly, wondering if the others had sent him as one last resort to connect.

“I saw Y/N on the street.” He replied casually, and my shoulders relaxed slightly. “She thought it would be a good idea for me to visit!”

“Of course. Come on in.” I stepped aside, letting him into our apartment and shutting the door gently. “I haven’t heard from you in months. Where have you been?”

“Long term mission abroad.” Sam sighed, sitting down on the couch. “It was quite an interesting experience. But not as interesting as finding out you moved out of the compound. What happened?”

I froze slightly at his words. “Did Steve send you?”

“Can’t I just be concerned about my friend?” Sam replied, scoffing slightly.

“I’m not saying you can’t.” I snorted, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “But this feels like an interrogation. I have had enough of those to last a life time.”

“I did speak to Steve, but he only gave me a few details. But I also don’t want to hear just one side. I want to hear from you.” Sam replied, glancing at me. “You two are incredibly close and now you live far apart from each other. What happened?”

All that had happened began to play again through my mind. The article published, the attitude shifts from the others, the gunshot to my shoulder, finding Y/N with the medicine bottle in hand. It was almost too hard to handle. But I willed myself to speak, telling my friend all that had happened.

“How can I forgive him for this?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly. “How can I forgive all of them for this? They did not give her a chance to explain herself, and made her feel like she was worthless. I could’ve lost her forever.”

“How does Y/N feel about this?” Sam prompted gently.

“She wants me to reach out to Steve.” I sighed, sinking back into the couch. “I don’t know how she can forgive him so easily, after all that has happened.”

“Y/N talked to me too, Bucky.” My eyes flickered over to Sam, surprised by his words. “She is worried about you, deeply. “

“I’m doing just fine.” I scoffed, but slightly concerned by his words. How had I not known she was worried about me?

“So you say.” Sam replied, almost skeptically. “Don’t you miss everyone? Steve at least?”

“Of course I have!” I bristle slightly, my metal fist clenching slightly. “But how do I move on from this?”

“I know you can’t immediately forgive the others for this, and that is understandable.” Sam spoke firmly. “But you can’t stay this angry forever. It will destroy you.”

“I can be as angry as I damn well please!” I snapped, glaring at him. “They almost caused her to end her life!”

“Bucky-“

“No!” I rose from the couch, a wave of rage flowing over me. “You don’t get it, and why would you? It wasn’t your wife!”

“No, but she is my friend!” Sam did not move, keeping his gaze steady with mine. “And she is scared that she is losing you, Bucky!”

“I need you to leave.” I shake my head, walking to the door and pulling it open. “Now.”

Sam clenched his jaw slightly but did not respond as he rose from the couch before walking to the door. Just as he was about to step through into the hall, Y/N appeared with a handful of grocery bags in hand. Her smile of greeting faded as she sensed the tension in the room. “What’s-“

“Please leave, Sam.” I repeated firmly, watching him leave before shutting the door behind him. “Why did you invite him here?”

“Maybe because he’s one of your friends and you could use a visit from one?” Y/N walked into the kitchen, placing the groceries on the counter before turning to me. “Why did you throw him out of our apartment?”

“Because everyone is insisting that I must forgive Steve!” I snapped, my jaw clenched. “I can’t even fathom how you can stand the thought of him!”

“Bucky, I still haven’t forgive him yet! It’s too hard!” I shake my head as I watched him through pained eyes. “But I’m not as angry anymore. You can’t let this anger consume you!”

“I heard the exact same thing from Sam.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I can be as angry as I want!”

“Bucky…”

“Did you coordinate this with Sam? Steve too?” I scoffed, not even hiding my anger anymore. “Why are you working with the people who want you dead?”

Y/N’s face went blank for a moment before her eyes filled with hurt. Deep hurt. I had never regret speaking as I quickly as I did in that moment.

“Alright.” Her voice was quiet, trembling slightly as she picked up her purse from the counter. “Dinner’s on the counter. I’m going to go stay somewhere else for the night.”

“Y/N…” My voice cracked as I reached out to grab her hand, but she slipped away from my touch and out the door, slamming it hard behind her.

I walked over to the couch, sitting back down quietly before the first tears began to fall. I could not remember when they stopped, if ever. Perhaps the anger had already destroyed me. And perhaps I had already lost the love of my life because of it.

=====

TAGLIST (from the last part! If you wanted to be added or removed, just let me know lol)

@missvelvetsstuff

@erinallene

@ladyalexandranna

@angelwatson

@buckyalpine

@ada728

@bwhitewolfbarnes

@kjah97

@ineverybreathofyou

@sarbear94

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #buckybarnes #buckyxreader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #buckybarnesimagine

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iri-2 · 5 months

Text

I Love You Like That

Rating: Not Rated Category: F/F Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Relationships: Mother Miranda/Reader Characters: Mother Miranda, Karl Heisenberg, Salvatore Moreau, Eva

Summary: As a scientist in The Connections, you and Miranda work together in a laboratory. Over time, you develop feelings for this somewhat harsh but seemingly vulnerable woman. One day, she "takes" you to her hometown.

You find yourself falling for Miranda.

A few months ago, she was just a somewhat sharp-tongued colleague who had recently joined. You don't know why you are attracted to her and trap so deeply.

"I think I might have some feelings for you, Miranda." Your fingers tightly gripping the edge of the notepad.

Miranda's scalpel pauses on the corpse. "Why?"

Why?

How would you know? Most of the time, she doesn't seem that friendly towards you. Until recently.

"Lab romances aren't a good idea. Shouldn’t we just focus on researching the combination of the E-type fungus and cadou?" Miranda rejects you directly.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you, you’re too cold to everything." you mutter, the tip of the pen you're holding trembling on the experiment log, leaving messy ink stains.

Several months ago, the leader of The Connections suddenly announced with excitement that they had found a scientist to join the project you were working on.

As the team's most outstanding researcher, you were assigned to the same laboratory as this scientist, in Romania.

Passing through the purification facility at the entrance, you enter the room. You see a woman already dressed in full lab attire, examining a small piece of tissue under a microscope.

"So, you're THE best researcher? You're here REALLY early," the dark-haired woman says.

"You must be Dr. Miranda? I firmly believe that I arrived on time." You try to ignore the unfriendly sharpness in her tone. This new scientist seems to have no understanding of interpersonal communication.

"In my sense of time, you are late." She doesn't lift her head from the eyepiece.

That’s quite rude.

"Okay, first, you’re new. Second, I’m on time. Third, I hope we can get along well at work," you put on your lab coat.

She takes off the slide and finally wants to take a look at you. "That'll take a while."

… For the sake of the experiment's progress, you silently endure her occasional criticism.

She’s mean all the time. She even uses you as her assistant, handing you the used experimental equipment for cleaning.

"For a hundred times, I'm NOT your assistant! I’m a scientist as you." You can't bear it anymore.

She shrugs her shoulders and remains silent.

… One day, she directs her accusations at you again.

"Did you touch my culture dish?" Miranda accuses you without any evidence.

"Why would I touch your culture dish?" you respond, feeling puzzled.

"It's just the two of us here. If it's not me, it must be you. No one else can come in."

"So, you blame me when your experiment doesn't go well?" You're annoyed.

Every time she starts an experiment with anticipation, but after a failure, she becomes unusually desperate.

Her blue eyes dim a bit, and the wrinkles at the corners deepen.

"Sorry." You hear her say the word for the first time.

She looks vulnerable. She has never revealed to you the purpose of her research. However. every time the experiment fails, the gloom in her eyes deepens a bit. She doesn't seem to have only seen biochemical experiments when she looks at the tissues and cells. When the experiment fails, she seems to have lost her most precious thing.

"It's okay," your anger subsides slightly.

In the next few days, Miranda's accusations against you seem to decrease. Once, while testing the biological activity of one kind of cadou, you were about to cut a small piece when Miranda suddenly stopped the next move of your scalpel.

"Put this on." She hands you safety goggles.

You put on the goggles, and soon you understand why.

This type of cadou sprays green slime when stimulated, splattering on your goggles and mask, and it smells awful.

"Well, thanks, Miranda."

"No problem." Miranda says gently.

In the following weeks, she finally treats you completely as a colleague. Sometimes she will leave some very clean culture dishes and test tubes by your side. Once she suddenly appears behind you, tidying up the collar of the lab suit you hastily put on in the morning, and then goes to do her experiment as if nothing has happened.

You have become accustomed to her harshness towards you, and recently her tenderness and concern for you have made you start to worry about her situation. What makes this woman who always uses ridicule and condescension to communicate with others like this? And what makes her depart from her normal behavior?

Sometimes when you observe your chemical reaction, you feel someone looking at you from behind. When you turn around, you only see Miranda writing the experimental report seriously.

… You shouldn't have started caring about her. This has kept your gaze on her for too long, so long that you realize you have fallen in love with her.

But out of professionalism - or more importantly, you still think Miranda will treat you with her cold attitude, just like she has built a defense line in her heart, making your heart break, so you just hold your feelings.

… Six months later, when you place the cells you cultivated under the microscope, you witness unprecedented success.

"Miranda! Come here!" you wave for Miranda to come over.

She observes the cell activity under the microscope.

"These are cells I cultivated with an entirely new serum," you say with joy in your tone.

"Eva…" Miranda murmurs.

"Our project has finally made a breakthrough." You write something in your experiment log.

Miranda looks up, muscles twitching on her face, as if suppressing ecstasy. "You’re better than I thought."

"Let’s just pretend I didn't mention this," you place the notebook on the desk. You regret your impulsiveness. What were you thinking?

Miranda holds the equally cold surgical knife in her cold hand and hovers over the body for a while before continuing with the dissection.

Miranda doesn't speak much that day. At the end of the work, she takes off her lab uniform and speaks to you as if she has made up her mind, "I didn't tell you and most people about my research purpose because people would think I was crazy and that I just needed to find a psychologist,"she continues,"I want you to know my purpose."

"But this is a surprise, and you might not like it."she adds.

"Try me," as someone who has just been rejected, you speak weakly.

Miranda takes a step towards you, and you see her hand getting closer to you, then it lands on your face.

And then you plunge into darkness.

"Wake up, wake up." You hear Miranda calling your name.

"What?" You open your eyes and find yourself leaning on her.

She sees you awake, coughs awkwardly, straightens your body, and steps away from you.

"Is this your idea of a 'surprise'? The best I could think of was that you blindfolded me and took me somewhere, not something resembling a kidnapping." You're a bit annoyed and confused,"How did you make me faint that quick?"

"I did say you might not like it," Miranda avoids your question.

"Where did you bring me?" You glance around, it looks like a vineyard.

"My hometown," she replies.

Miranda guides you out of the vineyard and onto the road.

The houses around are very low, the highest looking like it has only two floors. Some houses have adjacent livestock sheds with pigs and chicks.

The villagers here wear clothes from the last century, some grinding flour, others rolling hay. They stop their activities in surprise when you pass by, and when they see Miranda beside you, surprise turns to fear. They quickly return to their work.

"Don't be surprised, they rarely see outsiders, so they react like that," Miranda calmly explains to you.

"But they seem scared of you," you turn to Miranda.

"Probably because I look different from usual. This village is conservative, and they're not used to new things," Miranda tries to explain.

What is she like usually? Does she wear the same clothes as the villagers? You rarely see Miranda in anything other than a lab coat, and today she wears a simple solid-color cardigan. You can't help but imagine Miranda wearing the villagers' clothes.

"Why don't they go to the outside world?" you mutter.

As you go further, people become scarce until you enter a field where there's no sign of villagers.

"We're here," Miranda leads you to a house.

This house is built against the mountainside, away from the village center.

She opens the door and enters with you. The furnishings inside the house match the vintage theme of the village.

"Is this where you live?" you ask.

"Yes, not used to it?" she gazes at you.

"I just didn't expect someone like you to be so unmodernized," you murmur.

"Come see my lab." She ignores your sarcasm.

"You also have a laboratory here?" The size of this house doesn't look like it can accommodate a laboratory.

She opens a door deep inside the house, leading to a bedroom.

"Well…?"

She goes to a corner and pulls down a switch.

There's a click, and the blank wall in front of you starts moving to the sides, revealing a laboratory still marked by the passage of time.

"I see. But why do you hide the lab?"When you think this woman is strange enough, she still has surprises waiting for you.

She gestures for you to enter her laboratory. A damaged wooden table is scattered with various books and a few black-and-white photos.

You see a photo of a dark haired woman holding a little baby. "Is this you?"

"Yes."You never see her this emotional before, her blue eyes slightly dimming.

"This child…"

"She was my daughter."Miranda's voice carries endless sorrow. "She died when she was ten."

"Oh, I’m sorry, Miranda." You look at her, your voice softens.

"That's why I'm researching the Megamycete; I want to bring Eva back." Miranda's hand holds your arm.

"That's why when your experiment failed, you were like a soul being pulled out of your body?" You feel the coldness of her hand. Has she always been this cold? "I believe you can succeed, our research is progressing well."

Her blue eyes have returned to their original state, looking at you with immense tenderness. "You've helped me a lot. Thank you." She seems to find it awkward to say such things. She lets go of your arm, her cheeks slightly flushed.

She appears so fragile.

"You know, you can tell me directly in our laboratory." You don't think she needs to use "kidnapping" to take you to this village surrounded by deep mountains to tell you this.

"There are still some things that I will let you know here," she doesn't think she does this with great fanfare.

Miranda insists you stay overnight in her bedroom.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll rest on the couch." Miranda is about to sit down.

"Miranda?" You call her from the bedside.

"Hmm?"

"I'd like to hear Eva's story."

Miranda freezes in her movements, then stands up and says, "Not many people ask about her."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to force it." You see sadness engulfing her again.

"It's okay, I don't mind talking about her." She slowly walks towards you and sits beside you.

"Eva was born in August. I remember it was a hot day, and giving birth to that little one exhausted me." Miranda's gaze focuses in the distance as she smiles.

"Her eyes were blue…"

"Like her mother."

She looks at you gently. "Yes, just like me."

"She was the smartest among her peers, learned things quickly. She got along well with other kids, everyone wanted to be friends with her." Miranda speaks softly.

"She even learned carving from the village carpenter. One day, she excitedly ran home, holding something in her hands, shouting, 'Mom! Look at what I made today!' She raised a wood carving in front of me, which was in the shape of a goat. The head and body were divided into two parts and pieced together. I held little Eva in my arms and praised her for doing so well. She was thrilled."

A wood carving of goat? You seem to have seen something similar in the village.

"She used to visit various houses in the village every day, helping them with chores. She was so energetic." Happiness surrounds Miranda as she speaks.

You listen attentively to her storytelling. This is the most time Miranda talks, maybe too much.

After that, it's not your fault. The day-to-day research makes you sleep very little. In Miranda's gentle voice, it feels like listening to a bedtime story, and you grow sleepy.

Your head tilts to the side, hands on your stomach, breathing steady.

Miranda lifts you gently from the bedside, letting you lie down on the bed. She covers you with a blanket, arranges the pillow, and sits by your side, watching you sleep peacefully.

Lab romances? Sounds fun.

You wake up from Miranda's blanket, and the scent of her woody perfume lingers in the air. Getting off the bed, you walk to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Miranda sits at the dining table.

"Good morning." You lazily reply.

"Your breakfast." She points to the apple pie and fried egg on the table.

"What about you?" You look at the complete apple pie and ask her.

"I've already eaten." She picks up her tea and takes a sip.

"Any plans for today?" You cut a piece of the fried egg and put it in your mouth.

"We're going to Heisenberg's factory."

"Heisenberg's factory?" You question.

"Yes, Karl Heisenberg is my… assistant. He's advanced in bioelectric research."

"Oh, you have 'assistants' here too? I thought I was the only one of yours." You tease her.

"They are indeed my assistants, but you you're different." She awkwardly coughs.

You feel a bit pleased that you successfully teased Miranda.

"Have your breakfast now, we'll head to the factory. It's located outside the village, a bit far." Miranda gestures towards your breakfast.

"Why not 'kidnap' me there? Seems quicker." You take a bite of the apple pie.

"I could, but I prefer you to walk there with me consciously." Miranda finishes her tea.

"What do you mean by 'I could'?"

"Eat your breakfast."

Miranda and you walk on an ancient bridge. In the village, you still feel the strange gazes of the villagers, but after Miranda glares at them, they dare not stare at you anymore.

"Miranda?" You tilt your head to look at her.

"What's wrong?" Miranda softly responds.

"Why do I feel like the villagers are afraid of you?" You ask her.

"We'll talk about it later." Miranda doesn't want to say more.

Outside Heisenberg's factory, wild grasses are overgrown, and abandoned metal parts are scattered in the bushes.

As if predicting your arrival, the factory gate slowly opens, revealing a man standing at the entrance.

He wears a dirty light green trench coat with a tattered wide brim fedora, but his sunglasses are polished to a shine.

"Ah, Miranda, you're here. Welcome." The man opens his arms to welcome you.

"Heisenberg, this is my colleague." Miranda informs him of your name.

"Hello, Miranda said I should show you how bioelectricity works." Heisenberg produces a cigar from behind his back.

"Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg."

In his workshop, you see various large instruments emitting orange lights, indicating their operation. They are quite different from the precise instruments you are familiar with in your laboratory.

You swear you hear a hissing sound coming from some tightly closed doors.

Heisenberg leads you and Miranda into a dimly lit room with many surgical tables. On them lie many gray-skinned… people?

"These are my experimental results." Heisenberg proudly says. You can see excitement gleaming behind his sunglasses.

"Are these people?" You point to one with an iron drill replacing its arm.

"They used to be. Don't worry, I only experiment on them after they've passed away. They've been implanted with Cadou, and with some electric stimulation, they’ll 'come alive'."

Like Galvani's frog experiment?

"Although the electricity used now is external, in ongoing research, I've enabled them to gradually activate their own neural potentials, making them have life activities, just like a resurrection." Heisenberg explains.

Your understanding of bioelectricity is limited, but you listen to Heisenberg's enthusiastic explanations, occasionally nodding along.

"Perhaps this can help with your research?" Heisenberg finishes his grand speech and hands you a development notebook.

"Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg."

"Call me Karl." Heisenberg corrects.

You filter out his self-praise in the report, summarize the key points about the experiment in your head.

Heisenberg finishes his cigar, casually tossing it on the ground and extinguishing it with his boot. Taking a step forward, he places his hand on your shoulder — the glove he wears is oily, much like the messy strands of his long gray hair.

"I believe Miranda wouldn't choose the wrong person. She never used to wander around the village with outsiders." He gives you a positive look.

Your gaze shifts to Miranda, who is staring at your shoulder. "HEISENBERG! I appreciate your help today, but it's getting late. We should go."

"But it's only noon. Don't you want to stay for lunch or something?" Heisenberg asks you with a smile.

"No need. We have other things to do. You should focus on your own tasks," Miranda immediately rejects him.

"Alright, suit yourselves." Heisenberg walks towards his workbench, starting to clean a metal hammer.

"What else do we have to do?" You ask Miranda as the factory gate behind you automatically closes.

"We're going to the reservoir."

"The reservoir? I guess it's not for some leisurely fishing."

"No, just taking a walk."

"So, this is the 'other things' you mentioned. Sounds important," your tone carries a hint of mockery.

Miranda purses her lips. "It's important to me. Perhaps to Moreau as well."

"Moreau?" A new name.

"He's another assistant of mine, living near the reservoir. We can pay him a visit."

You follow Miranda towards the windmill. Does Moreau live in a windmill? That’s so weird.

Miranda leads you into an elevator, descending into a cave-like area.

Wow, this guy lives in a place even more unusual than Heisenberg.

You hear the sound of someone vomiting.

You see Miranda frown.

Sounds emanate from a small house in the cave, like a comedy show. You hear an odd laughter, followed by chewing noises.

Miranda knocks on the door.

A peculiar-looking guy opens the door.

"Mother!"

You see Miranda shoot him a fierce look.

Mother?

"Oh, no Moth… Mo… Mi… Miranda, you came! Moreau welcomes you to my reservoir! Y…You brought a newcomer." This hunched-over guy speaks with a strange voice, containing a gurgling element, reminiscent of fish blowing bubbles.

After the door is fully open, you see his face clearly under the indoor lights. Wow, his features seem… really bizarre. His eyes are swollen, half-closed, his nose is short, and below, his mouth is wide open, with teeth seemingly having a mind of their own, growing in various directions.

Oh, God bless him.

He acts unusually excited, his skinny arms trembling. He invites you into his house. Miranda looks somewhat reluctant, but she follows you inside.

"Miranda, you're actually here to see me. You rarely visit me!" He's excited like a child, reaching out to you. "And you brought a newcomer!"

"Salvatore, stop. She's my colleague, here to help me with experiments. We just came from Heisenberg's place. We need some data on Cadou." Miranda halts Moreau's action.

"W…Wait for me here. I'll fetch the experimental data right away." Moreau rushes into the inner room and comes out with a stack of documents.

Miranda takes the documents and hands them to you. You carefully avoid touching the suspicious green marks on top and put them into your backpack.

Miranda seems ready to leave, and so do you.

"Miranda! Newcomer! Stay for lunch with me." The person with a strange appearance shouts.

"No, thanks, Moreau." Miranda replies coldly.

Moreau leans forward and grabs something. You follow Miranda and turn around, seeing Moreau holding onto the corner of Miranda's cardigan hem, hunches his back, appearing so small and weak.

"Fine. I can accompany you for a while. Let go." Miranda pulls out the hem from his hand, speaking extremely reluctantly, "No lunch."

She looks at you inquiringly. You nod.

"Just one episode, just one episode like always," Miranda tells him.

Moreau tries to jump up excitedly, completely unaware of the stiffness in Miranda's tone. He continues playing his comedy and starts chewing on the cheese on the plate.

You and Miranda sit side by side on the stools behind Moreau, facing the TV. The comedy is amusing, Moreau giggles, and at one point, he accidentally chokes on the cheese, producing a loud cough. Miranda sits straight, showing no reaction to the comedy.

Is this cave well-ventilated? Why do you smell such a strong fishy odor?

You frown in disgust, praying for this episode to end quickly so you can leave this damp and gloomy place.

The unpleasant smell allows you to catch a faint fragrance from Miranda, like her blanket, woody and pleasant — something you like.

After another ten minutes, the fishy smell intensifies. Unable to bear it any longer, you start moving closer to Miranda, attempting to use her scent to mask the fishy odor.

The fishy smell is really strong, and your face is almost buried in her neck. When your nose brushes against her skin, she slightly recoils.

Miranda speaks.

"Moreau, control yourself."

"Mo… Miranda, I didn't mean to!" Moreau immediately apologizes.

After a while, you feel the fishy smell diminish significantly. You turn your head to rest it on Miranda's shoulder. She doesn't move, lets you lean on her.

The episode finally comes to an end, and you feel relieved.

Miranda says to Moreau, "We should go now."

You stand up quickly, ready to escape.

Moreau appears reluctant, and there seems to be tears in his eyes. "Goodbye, Miranda. Goodbye, newcomer."

Before you can say goodbye, Miranda, without looking back, pulls you away, leaving Moreau behind.

Leaving the reservoir, the air suddenly becomes incredibly fresh. You feel like your foggy brain has been liberated.

"Miranda? Shouldn't we go for lunch?" you poke her arm.

"Sure," Miranda nods.

"Are we going to the restaurant in the village, or…?"

"We'll buy ingredients and cook ourselves."

"Getting another meal from the great scientist? Looking forward to it! The apple pie and fried eggs you made this morning were just perfect." You recall their aftertaste.

Miranda smiles at your reaction. "Let's go and get some ingredients."

You can also find me here.

Thanks for reading!

#re8 village #resident evil village #re8 #resident evil 8 #mother miranda #resident evil #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #mother miranda x reader #she's a poor little bird

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months

Note

Digital Circus with a Mime Reader, who CAN speak but prefers to use sign language and gestures: they find find Kaufmo in the middle of abstracting and try to calm him down (against their better judgement). It doesn't go well, ending with them locking and closing Kaufmo's door, and running to find Caine... Only to hear the theme song suddenly stop and Jax say something about a "new character" as they approach...

Ough finally some Kaufmo angst-

........

Approaching Kaufmo's door, you stopped in front of it and politely knocked, wanting to check up on him before Caine could summon everybody to perform the Digital Circus' "theme song" musical number.

As of late, your fellow clown hasn't been feeling up to snuff, since apparently nobody was laughing at his jokes anymore...

Although said jokes have all mentioned something about an exit--a way out of the digital realm you've grown quite comfortable living in. But even when he is dead serious, the others are convinced he's only kidding around, pretending to laugh and sometimes asking him if he could joke about something else.

Least to say...it grew frustrating for him.

The only reason he hadn't totally lost it yet was because of you, a mime who has lived in the circus for the past five months and befriended him quickly. Together you've put on many acts: with his wacky props and your invisible techniques, your shows were amusing to all.

That being said, you didn't want your longtime partner to think about any exits too much, as you've lost several friends in the past when they started talking about the same thing.

It happened to Queener, Kinger's beloved wife, and the poor chess piece has been on the brink of abstraction ever since (honestly, it's a miracle he didn't immediately follow her).

Fortunately, he remained stable enough to be around everyone.

As for Kaufmo?

He didn't look so good last night at dinner, and you haven't seen him all morning. Normally he'd be up and about, juggling random things as he walked or approaching you to brainstorm new acts to perform.

Him locking himself away in his room was not normal.

Especially when he knew this musical number was super important to Caine.

After waiting a minute or two, you perked up as he finally answered the door.

At first you smiled in greeting, although that was quick to fade when he only kept it open just a crack--enough for you to barely see his face...

Which bore a terrified expression underneath his runny makeup, making his frown look worse than it actually is. His hat was nowhere to be found, either.

''Are you okay, Kaufmo?" You signed, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

That was your usual way of talking, despite knowing you could very well speak freely. You had no clue if you were proficient in sign language before entering this circus, but regardless it always came in handy, and everybody did their best to communicate with you that way (or at least those with fingers, unlike Zooble or Gangle).

Since your performances usually involved silence and expressive gestures, you didn't see a need to talk often--and that was usually fine with Kaufmo, who'd always chatter with you in sign language right back.

But when he attempted to respond, you swore you both saw his own hands glitching, before he quickly retracted them, clearly frightened.

You, on the other hand, wanted to believe it was just a "digital hallucination".

That's all it was...right?

"I-I'm sorry, [y/n]..haven't been..feeling like myself-f-f lately.." Even his own voice was betraying him, as it sounded distorted, lagging as though he was a slow computer program. "But you believe me, don't you?"

"Believe what?"

"The...the exit, of course! The thing I've been talking about this whole time!! It's real! There IS a way out!! I-I can show you!!"

You blinked, before shaking your head. "Kaufmo, let me in."

"Oh no, I think that's a bad id--wait! Wait!!" Despite his pleas for you to stop, you forced your way into his room, shutting the door behind you so nobody else could intrude or eavesdrop.

The last thing you needed was Caine listening in.

Yet after taking a look around at the state of his quarters--with everything being a complete mess and the word "EXIT" scrawled onto every square inch of the ceiling and walls--you were nothing short of terrified for his mental well-being.

'My god....what has he done..?' You thought to yourself, mortified.

"No, no, no, no!!"

Looking back at Kaufmo, you saw him back up against the wall, holding his face as black glitchy polygons started appearing on his body. He gasped in horror, looking at his hands...and then up at you.

"What's..h-happening to me-e-e?"

Your heart sunk, knowing exactly what was going on.

"You're abstracting.." You whispered, your voice small yet shaken.

"I-I didn't...think I'd be next...it hurts so much! Christ-!!!" He began crying, his makeup oozing as he stared at you with empty, soulless black eyes. One of his arms was already taken over by the glitches, morphing into a large one covered in jagged polygons.

"Make it stop..MAKE IT STOP!!!" He screamed, slumping to the floor.

You were frozen in a state of panic, unsure if you should go get Caine or stay here and try to pull him out of his abstraction.

Either way, you had to do something fast...lest you lose him forever or become infected yourself.

"Just focus on me, pal. I'm here. I'm here." Kneeling down, you grasped his non-glitching hand tightly with both of yours, attempting to guide him through a breathing exercise.

"You'll get through this." You mouthed, but he just shook his head, noticing a single glowing eye forming on the surface of the glitchy flesh.

"Wh-Whatever you do...don't tell Caine, I beg you-u.." He pleaded. "He'll lock me away...a-and I'll be all alone in the dark..I don't wanna be alone.."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head, and he gazed at you in confusion. "What do you mean "no"? You'd let him throw me into the cellar with the rest of them...?" He started to grow angrier, feeling betrayed. "I thought we were partners!"

"We are partners, Kaufmo. Always will be." You sighed, wishing there was another way to stop this from happening. "But there's nothing more I can do...he needs to know-"

"Fine...maybe things will be better if I'm not around to tell my stupid jokes anymore."

"Kaufmo-"

"Go....run, [y/n]...run-n-n-nnNNNN------"

Immediately after he said that, you let him go right as his other hand quickly became overtaken by the abstraction, almost taking you with it.

You got up and took a step backwards, watching in mute terror as he rapidly grew in size, turning into a massive amalgamation of glitch black polygons. Even more glowy-trippy eyes were popping up in different places, looking in every direction.

Within seconds, Kaufmo no longer resembled the clown you once knew (or a person, in general)....but was instead replaced by a horrific digital beast with a long neck, standing on four legs.

You gulped as every single eye on his body suddenly shifted to stare directly down at you.

'Uh-oh-'

You hastily created an invisible wall just as he lunged at you with a ferocious roar, slamming right into the illusion like a bird smacking into a glass pane.

'He still falls for the oldest trick in the book..oh Kaufmo..'

Although it pained your heart to abandon him like this, he was too far gone to be saved. He didn't even recognize you anymore.

The only thing you could do now was get Caine before he harmed you or anybody else--even if it means you never saw him again. He could very well threaten the entire stability of this world if he got loose.

You quickly ran out of the room just before he could break through the "wall" and go after you, slamming the door shut and locking it tight.

Moments later, you heard him ram into it, the hinges damn near breaking off (but by the grace of cartoon physics, that didn't happen).

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, making a mad dash out of the dormitory section of the tent in a desperate search for Caine.

Unfortunately, you could already hear Bubble's singing in the distance as the gang's musical number routine was already starting:

"Gangle, and Zooble, and Kinger, too~!"

You ran as fast as your legs could possibly carry you. They were already aware of both of your absences, and they chose to go on with the song anyways.

'Jerks..they couldn't at least wait for me?' You huffed. 'Caine never tells us when we're doing these musical ditties-'

By the time you arrived, however, you heard the music abruptly cut out.

You stopped upon seeing your friends tumbled over each other on the floor, with Gangle's comedy mask being broken and Jax picking himself up in annoyance.

"Caine, is this one of your NPCs or is this a new sucker?"

Blinking, you glanced at the new person he was referring to, surprised to see a girl dressed as a red and blue jester.

"........."

Now you couldn't say anything to Caine.

Not right now, at least.

#clanask #anonymous #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc kaufmo #clown reader #mime reader #angst #platonic

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obsessedelusional · 7 months

Text

Internets Favorite Fangirl

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x Fem!Reader

summary ✦ You are the internets most famous fangirl. You were a famous actor with no shame in thirsting over celebrities. So naturally you’re very public about your love with Pedro Pascal. Only to switch up when watching TLOU, fancying Bella. What happens when you show up to an award show they’re both attending? poorly proofread

word count ✦ 3,700ish

authors note ✦ hey sorry I’ve been mia I missed all y’all and want to start posting again anyways here’s a bellaxreader I wrote several months ago lmao im gonna post a few bella things I’ve been working on and even venture into tlou ((Abby Anderson is the love of my FUCKING LIFE)) ily bye

masterlist

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated ♡

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

It had become a reoccurring theme in your press interviews to be asked who your recent celebrity crush was. It started when you landed your first big movie. Shortly after the release in a chance to find out more about you fans search the internet for any crumb they could find. Someone found an old Harry Styles fan page you had when you were a teen. You were absolutely mortified by the stuff they were finding. Deleting it wouldn’t undo it so you learned to embrace it. Quickly becoming the internets most famous fan girl.

Making TikTok’s and tweets thirsting after unattainable celebrities. The whole internet eating it up and thirsting along with you. Your most recent viral moment was a TikTok you made featuring the infamous dvcree Pedro Pascal edit. Your face green screened over the original with a caption talking about this singular edit has taken over your for you page and you were enjoying every second of it.

With the upcoming release of the anticipated second movie to your most popular role you were busy doing press work. Sometimes by yourself but mostly with the rest of the cast. Today you were invited to do an google auto complete video with you male costar, Johnathan, who plays your love interest.

The first board asking where your from, then your age, and other basic questions. The next board is handed to you all the google searches begin with ‘who’.

“Who is y/n?” You read aloud laughing as you read.

“I am. That’s me. I act sometimes but mostly embarrass myself on the internet.” You costar laughs agreeing with the last half of your statement.

“Who is y/n dating?”

“I wish I had some juicy gossip to share but I’m as single as it gets.”

“Who is y/n’s celebrity crush?” You sit there and think, your smile grows bigger when it comes to your mind.

“Oh this one’s easy. I know.” Jonathan says.

“Who?”

“Pedro Pascal.”

“Pssssh that was so last week.” Jonathan audibly gasps.

“Who then?”

“We’ll it’s actually his fault.”

“Who’s fault?”

“Pedro’s.”

“Please explain.” Jonathan says confused.

“Well I’m late on the train but I just binged watch The Last of Us. I was the last of us to watch it.” You laugh at your own joke, Jonathan doesn’t only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“Anyways I started watching it for Pedro but stayed for Bella Ramsey.”

“Bella? The one who played Ellie?” Jonathan asks, his face telling you he doesn’t get it.

“Yeah them. You may not understand but the girls will get it.” You respond.

“Okay you heard it here first y/n is single and wants Bella Ramsey. My turn.” He says as he reaches for his board to read off the questions directed at him.

—

A few days pass before the video is released. Your publicist notify you it’s out and you don’t dare watch it, just pray that you didn’t do anything to embarrassing this time. It doesn’t take long before your notifications are flooded with people talking about the interview. You read a few before realizing a theme, Bella.

Everyone is tagging Bella in clips of you gushing over her. An edit of you saying the girls will get it followed by edited clips of Bella to the beat of a song. You may have watched it one too many times before favoriting it. Just as you about to close TikTok you get an Instagram notification from a verified account. It’s Bella following you, you click the notification not believing for a second it’s real.

But it is.

—

Two weeks ago Bella had made the first move by following you on Instagram. The internet went crazy when they realized quickly shipping the two of you. No one realizing that was the extent of your relationship, mutually following each other on instagram. It had crossed your mind at least a hundred times, you had drafted plenty first messages. Always deleting your words before you could muster up the courage to press send.

Tonight no different, you were in the process of preparing for a movie and tv awards show. In your dressing room being pampered by your glam squad. Clicking away at your phone looking for any sign that Bella was going to be here tonight. If they were you’d have no choice by to say hello. Cursing yourself because if only you had messaged Bella beforehand this would be less awkward.

A knock at your door steals your attention and your crew stops what there doing. The door opens revealing your manager, the biggest grin on her face. Something was up.

“We have a surprise for you.” She sings with a soft smile.

“So finish what your doing and meet us in room A3.” She says before shutting the door. You ask your team if they know what’s happening but they all answer with a shrug of the shoulders.

—

“Why are there cameras?” You ask as your guided to room A3. The door is shut, your mind races wondering what it could possibly be. Everyone around you is looking suspiciously excited for what’s about to happen. Your instructed to open the door so you do so, peaking your head in as it creeps open.

With nothing more than your head in the room, you peek around into the darkness. Blinded momentarily when the light turns on from inside. Blinking as an attempt to get your sight back your greeted by none other than Pedro Pascal.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You spit following with a squeal as you shut the door. Leaving Pedro alone in the room with whoever else in there. He erupts into laughter, a sound you had heard many times online.

“There’s no fucking way this is real.” You turn around ready to run greeted by the camera shoved in your face. Realizing you have no choice in this matter. With a nervous breakdown around the corner you open the door. Peaking your head once again making eye contact with Pedro.

“I’m sorry.” You say too afraid to approach already had made a fool of yourself.

“Don’t be.” Pedro laughs, calming your nerves temporarily.

“Hi.” Is all you can manage to spit out.

“Hi honey,” he smiles and waves, making you melt. The two of your still stood a few feet apart. You’re looking him up and down and moving your gaze onto your manger who’s sat in the corner motioning you to get closer.

“You can come closer. I don’t bite.. I mean unless…” His voice trails off and turns into laughter. You laugh before closing the gap, hugging Pedro. After you pose next to Pedro as photos are taken. His arm rests on your shoulder. You look up at the man next to you he’s already looking down at you.

“I was so excited to meet you a few weeks ago.”

“How long have you guys been planning this?” You ask.

“A little over a month.” Your manager answers.

“Yeah then you had to go and switch up on me.” He sighs dramatically, letting his arm fall from your shoulders.

“What did-“

“Don’t act so innocent Y/N. Don’t think I didn’t hear about your new found love for Bella.” Your eyes go wide realizing what he’s talking about.

“They better not pop up out of nowhere. I can’t handle two surprises today.”

“See exactly it’s like I don’t even matter to you anymore.” Pedro whines face falling.

“You do matter but…” You start to go on about Bella but stop your self.

“But what?” Pedro must notice your the worry in your face because he takes it back.

“I’m just giving you a hard time.” He teases.

—

“It really was nice meeting you.” You say your goodbyes but decide to follow it up with an apology for your actions when you were surprised. The cameras were gone now.

“Don’t worry about it. If anything I should be worried. Bella’s not gonna be happy with me.” Your ears perk up at the mention of Bella not being happy.

“Why?”

“I’ve said to much.” He attempts to change the conversation.

“Wait you can’t just say that and pretend like you didn’t.” He let’s out a defeated sigh in response.

“Bella has not shut up about you in weeks. I tried to convince them to tag along but they refused. Which turned into a whole thing. Bella made me promise several times not to embarrass them.” Pedro rambles on before stopping face full of regret.

“I won’t say anything if you won’t.” You respond.

“Deal.”

Maybe you don’t plan on repeating the words that had come out of Pedro’s mouth but they surely lit the fire in your self to finally message Bella or maybe even say hello if you saw them tonight. Your rushed to finish getting ready before being instructed to walk the carpet. Taking pictures first and then stopping to do mini interviews.

Your in the middle of the red carpet where your stood answering questions for some publication. When you hear the crowd and paparazzi roar. Bella is stood next to Pedro, they’re holding hands. Pedro giving his full attention to the cameras while Bella is sneaking glances at you. In front of the camera still and the interviewer waiting for an answer you smile one last time, waving softly before going back to answering. Your whole demeanor changing from the subtle interaction with Bella, suddenly a little more smiley than before.

Eventually you’re seated at table, you say your hellos to the few people sitting with you. The seats next to you empty, so you take a peek at the name tags on table. Pedro is suppose to be sat right next to and Bella next to him. You don’t have time to process it because you hear the voice of the man who’s suppose to be sitting next to you. You turn around and he’s busy talking, no sign of Bella. You face forward in your seat, pulling out your phone to distract yourself.

“Told I’m sitting next to you but I don’t want to.” Pedro says from behind you. You smile politely kind of confused watching as he changes Bella’s name place with his. Sitting down where Bella was suppose to be. He sports the biggest grin as you realizing what he’s doing. He whispers you’re welcome before averting his attention else where.

Within seconds your planning your escape but it doesn’t matter because the familiar British accent fills your ears as they chat up some other people at a nearby table. If you left now it’d be too obvious, so you sit there painfully waiting for Bella to sit right next to you. A few long minutes pass before you fill the seat being pulled out and someone sitting down. You look over and smile, making eye contact with Bella who’s a few inches away.

“Hi.” Bella says with a shy smile.

“Hi.” You say back, barely a whisper.

“This is kinda crazy. I’ve never been to an event this big. Especially in America, this is on a whole other level.” Bella explains, staring a conversation.

“Oh yeah you’re probably far from home. Where do you live?” You ask, you already know the answer but Bella doesn’t need to know all that.

“The UK.” Bella responds.

“Oh damn. I’ve had to make that trip a few times. Absolute hell.” You say causing Bella to laugh lightly.

“Yeah kinda. Getting used to it after so many times. It’s usually worth it.”

“Well I hope this time is worth it.” You respond, you haven’t stopped smiling since Bella sat down.

“It already is.” Bella teases, their tone a bit flirty causing you to temporarily malfunction unable to come up with a response. Thank god some camera man comes by asking Pedro and Bella to take some pictures before the show starts.

As soon as Bella’s attention isn’t on you anymore your aggressively messaging your best friend, freaking the fuck out. As you’re typing some one grabs you hand, trying to get you to stand up. It’s Pedro and he’s begging for a photo with you. You happily oblige standing up but Pedro has a plan, posing you next to Bella. He takes a few photos with the two of you before stepping out of the way. Your unsure what to do but without notice Bella arm is around your waist. Pulling you a little closer, you smile for the picture and then look to Bella who’s already looking at you causing you to smile even bigger than before.

—

You two spend the beginning of the award show chatting in between breaks and sneaking glances at each other. Pedro constantly giving you looks, letting you know he’s happy with what’s happening. About half way though the show, a member of the shows staff comes to grab you and Pedro. Apparently the two of you presenting a reward.

You were not prepared for this in the slightest but it’s not the first time, you’ll be fine. You keep telling yourself that. It’s your time to go out, Pedro follows closely behind. You smile as everyone starts to cheer, when your finally to the podium Pedro begins reading off the teleprompter. You can’t help but cringe as the words as they come out, praying that it’s not too obvious.

“Today we’re here to present the award for break out actress.” Pedro says.

“Yeah… it’s been so amazing watching these nominees make their dreams come true.” You say through gritted teeth.

“With enough hard work and dedication, your dreams are possible. Just like her dreams.” He laughs, pointing to you.

“What do you mean Pedro?” You read off, sounding entirely out of touch with the words coming out. Confused where this could possibly going.

“Your hard work at being a fangirl, has finally paid off. You got to meet me. The man of your dreams.” Pedro can barley finish, laughing harder than he should be. Stopping every other word to laugh or catch his breath from laughing so hard. You don’t have any words being prompted at you, so you laugh and agree. Being shut up by the sound of your own voice being blasted from behind you.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You hear and followed by the sound of a door being slammed. You turn around in horror seeing yourself, on the biggest screen freaking out about meeting Pedro.

“There’s no fucking way this is real.” Plays on the screen, your curse words being bleeped. This is more embarrassing than anything you could’ve imagined that they had planned for this footage. You watch in full disgust too afraid to face the crowd of thousands. You hear them laughing at every stupid thing that leaves your mouth in the video, adding to your embarrassment.

When the video finally ends, Pedro gives you a hug. Saying something about how it’s okay in your ear but you’re far too gone from the moment to understand him. You turn to the face the crowd, the actor in your turning on.

“Well that was embarrassing.” You laugh.

“It’s okay, everyone loved it.” Pedro responds.

“Yeah everyone but me. Anyways, the nominees are…” You say as at attempt to make this end sooner. The nominees play in the background as you avoid eye contact with everyone in the crowd, just kinda looking off in the distance. Especially Bella because you two were hitting it off so we’ll and now the whole room, including Bella, just watched Pedro talk about your new found love for them.

Pedro starts ripping at an envelope letting you know it’s time to announce. The both of you read of the winner and start clapping. When the winner gets to the stage, you hug them before moving out of the way. Listening intently as they give their speech. It’s finally time to leave and you waste absolutely no time getting off that stage. Once backstage your overwhelmed by the sheer amount of good jobs and laughs at what just happened to you. Your manger tells you that was perfect.

“No more suprises please that was horrible.” You mutter, embarrassed and ready for the night to be over. Your manager apologizes. You make the walk back to the table, being stopped several times on the way. When you finally see your seat, Bella sees you. They flash a smile at you as you sit down. Pedro following close behind.

“That was something.” Bella says teasingly.

“That was embarrassing, I’m sorry.” You say not finding it funny.

“Why are you apologizing?” They ask, face full of concern.

“Because I opened my big mouth and dragged you into this.”

“I don’t mind. I actually kinda enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it?” You ask, your sour mood suddenly disappearing.

“Who wouldn’t enjoy one of the most beautiful and talented actors out there publicly simping for them?” Bella says, bringing your smile back.

“Beautiful?”

“Mhmm and talented.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night talking whenever you can. Pedro often inserting himself, neither of you minding. When it finally ends you can’t help but feel sad. Wishing the night could some how continue. You say your goodbyes, hugging Pedro. Then hugging Bella, a little longer than the hug with Pedro.

“It was nice meeting you.” You say as you pull away.

“You too.” Bella smiles as you walk away, your manager hounding you to get back to the dressing room so you can leave.

“How long are you in town?” You ask.

“I actually have to get on a plane back tomorrow afternoon.” Bella responds, sadness apparent in their voice.

“Oh well, shit that sucks.”

“What do you normally do after an award show?” Bella asks.

“Normally I get some terrible fast food and rot in bed until I fall asleep.” You respond honestly.

“I could go for some terrible fast food..” Bella says, with a hint of hope you’d understand what they were trying to say.

“I’d love it if you joined me.” You say, blush appearing. You make plans with Bella, letting them know you’d have to go to dressing room and unglam yourself. Bella understands following you to the dressing room, waiting for you outside of it. Eventually you come out in sweats, hair tied up and no more makeup.

“We’ll now I feel overdressed.” Bella teases, noticing your causal attire.

“You can borrow some clothes at mine.” You say, not realizing that you’re unofficially inviting Bella over to your home. Bella nods yes, biggest smile plastered on their face as they follow you out of the venue.

—

An hour later, Bella and you are laid up in bed. Tummy’s full watching some bad reality show. Doesn’t matter because you two can’t stop talking, not paying much attention to the tv. The conversation flows naturally, never missing a beat. Little did you know the internet was actively loosing their shit over all the content of the two of you tonight. Unaware of all of it, neither of you feeling any need to check your phones.

“I’m so glad I got to meet you tonight.” You say when the conversation starts to lull.

“Me too. I’ve been wanting to message you for weeks but I was absolutely terrified.” Bella admits.

“Me too. I was scared shitless when I realized you were sitting next to me. I’ve made a complete and utter fool of myself.” You say, looking at Bella who suddenly seems way closer than before. Tension between the two of you is heavy.

“Not at all.” Bella reassures you for what feels like the hundredth time.

“You sure? Because I still can’t believe-“ Your words are cut off by Bella kissing you softly, pulling away quickly.

“I like you. Okay? Please don’t fret over it.” Bella laughs, your laid there in shock. The biggest stupidest grin on your face.

“I like you too.” You whisper barley audible cause you’re quick with pressing your lips to Bella’s. This kid lasting a lot longer than the first.

—

The next morning, you two sleep in after staying up late. Only giving you two an hour before Bella has to get on the plane. You offer to drive Bella to their hotel, so they can pack and end up dropping them off at the airport too. Saying goodbye with a sweet kiss and plans to see each other in the near future.

You get into your car and pull out of the airport. A whole mix of emotions. Happy because of the prospects of a relationship with Bella but also sadness because Bella lives so far away. If the two of you do end up making it official, it’ll be long distance. The short drive home is spent in silence trying to figure out of the feelings your currently experiencing all at once. When you pull into your garage, your phone goes off its Bella.

Bella: thank you for last night, had so much fun and I can’t wait to see you again

You: is it stupid that I kinda miss you already?

Bella: I miss you too xxx

You catch yourself smiling so hard at your phone. Before you can respond Bella messages you again letting you know that their getting on the plane, they’ll message you as soon as they can. You shoot a short sweet message back and close the messages app.

You start opening your social media apps and your mentions are flooded with Bella and you at the award show. Hundred of photos from the event. People taking notice of the way you two were looking at each other. Then photos of you two leaving together. Most recently blurry photos of you off someones phone, outside of the airport saying goodbye to Bella.

“That was fast.” You groan aloud to yourself. Everyone is assuming the two of you are dating and you can’t blame them. You have a dozen unread messages from family, friends and people on your team.

A notification lets you know Pedro tagged you in a story. You click it and it’s the blurry photo of you kissing Bella outside the airport, with text that says ‘you’re welcome’. He tagged you and Bella in it. You can’t stop the laugh that leaves your mouth. Praying that Bella has knowledge of all this and isn’t blindsided when they get off the plane.

#Bella Ramsey #bella ramsey imagine #bella ramsey x you #bella ramsey fluff #bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey x y/n

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