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lovelybrooke · 3 months

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Platonic Yandere Hazbin Hotel Concept (pt.1)

Hello, this is based on this post here. Hope you enjoy, also feel free to request for Hazbin Hotel if you want.

Also, fair warning for hints of bad parenting and descriptions of death.

edit: no one mention I spelt the name wrong, got it?

masterlist

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You weren't normal, you knew that from a young age. From when you fell out of a tree that you knew you shouldn't have been in, feeling the bones snap in your legs and your heart race. Even as a child, you knew you were doomed, watching as the sun slowly set, the stars grace the sky, and you alone as your breathing slowly stops.

You wake up in the hospital, days later, with your mom asleep beside you. Apparently your legs were fine and you passed out from shock. Your mom found you in your backyard hours later, cold and barely breathing. When you didn't wake up when the sun rose, your mom took you to the hospital, and now you're here.

You could barely hear you mothers lecture on the drive home as you sat in the back seat, thinking about the pain you swear you felt when you feel from that tree. Thinking about the snap you heard when your legs hit the ground. Thinking about the fear you felt when you remembered your mom wasn't home, and that no one was coming for you.

Things like that day would happen again and again. You'd cut your hand, bandage it, and the next morning you'd wake up with it completely gone. You'd eat something that your stomach and throat didn't agree with at all, only to be gifted with a beautiful breath of fresh air at the very last second. You'd once even got into your mom's wine when she was sleeping, feeling completely sick but too scared to tell her, only to wake up the next morning completely fine.

You weren't normal, you knew that from a young age. And when you were in your junior year of high school, you knew that the best. When you were walking home from school, it dark and cold in the winter night. You traveled along the road looking for any sign of your mom's car, but in the dark you couldn't see anything, not even the car swerving right towards you. The headlights were so bright that in those last few seconds, you felt warm. But then you were cold again, as you lay on the icy road, the blood left your body and you breathed your final breath.

You awoke in a strange and unfamiliar place, the lights bright but radiating no warmth. It was like the cities you see in movies, strange people and sounds everywhere. You were still recovering from the shock, your breathing quick and erratic. You tried to ignore the stares on you as you raced to find a place to hide. You could hear people scream at you, try to grab on to you, but you just keep moving.

Eventually you find a door, and despite your better judgement you went through it. As you slammed the door close behind you, you couldn't help realize that this place was much calmer. It was so strange, how instantly you felt like this place was so different. For a moment, all you did was stand and look around the room, noticing a bar, a fireplace, and a front desk. You've never been to a hotel before, but this is what you imagined it would look like, minus all the macabre imagery. You would've just remained there in the entrance if wasn't for some strange looking creature, pink with four arms, entering the room and giving you a strange look.

"Charlie? What the fuck is a human doing here" he yelled, and for a second you wanted to crawl into your skin. He was so tall, nearly blocking your view of the much more normal looking woman crashing in, looking just as confused as the man in front of you. Followed by her was yet another woman, who looked more angry than confused. The original woman, the one you assumed to be Charlie, carefully stepped up next to the strange, four armed creature.

"Uh--I don't know..." She mumbled, staring you up and down. You don't know what to do in the situation, what to say or even what to do.

"Where am I?" You whisper out. It felt like the first time you talked in hours, your throat sore a rough. "Why am I here?" you whisper again only slightly louder. You could feel their judging gazes on you.

"Sorry buddy, you're in hell." The pink one said, getting a side eye from Charlie. "Angel!" She yelled, clearly wanting him to shut up. He, Angel, shrugged, clearly loosing interest and walking away. Charlie could judge by the look on your face that you were clearly distressed, sweat deeding down your face while you stare into space.

"Hey, don't worry, we all have to die sometime." She attempts to comfort you, rubbing you back gently. You don't feel comforted though, you feel confused. You don't feel dead, more like your mind is in a different place, separate from your body. "You don't...look dead though." She wondered aloud.

"Charlie, what are we gonna do with them." The other woman said. She looked more intimidating than the others, her voice alone making you shiver slightly. "We can't just--keep a human here." She tried to whisper the last part, but you heard it clearly.

"Vaggie! We can't just abandon them!" Charlie exclaimed, grasping the other's shoulders tight. At this point you felt like more of a side thought. "Plus, if a humans down here, they're probably dead so..." Neither of them were good at being subtle were they. After whispering a bit to each other, Charlie took a deep breath and faced you. "Hi! My Names Charlie Morningstar! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!"

You introduced yourself, explained you situation, keeping out your suspicious history of not really being able to die. Maybe you were just really lucky, you thought, and that your luck just ran out. The Hotel wasn't that bad, and out of all the places you could spend you time, it was probably the best. You still couldn't get over the fact that you really didn't feel dead, almost like you were lost but couldn't remember where you trying to go in the first place. Everyone in hell looked so--unique was probably the best word, but you looked the same as the day you died. Charlie told you that it wasn't anything you should worry about, but it still made you stick out like a sore thumb.

Speaking of Charlie, she became a really great friend. She was very concerned with you fitting in with the others at the Hotel, even if it was a struggle. You mainly just sticked to yourself, since you didn't feel comfortable leaving the hotel. Every once in a while, you'd hang out at the bar, where you met the bartender Husk. He was nice, at least nice enough to make you alcohol free drinks, almost being able to sense your aversion to alcohol. Sometime you'd see Angel there, mainly after work. He never told you what he did for work, but you could assume, not like it was your place to judge him. You grew closer to Vaggie as you grew closer to Charlie. They cared about each other, it was very nice to see. It made the Hotel feel just a little bit warmer. You even got to meet the little housekeeper named Niffty, who was definitely a character.

Though you often have the feeling that you're missing someone. It wasn't until a few weeks into your stay at the Hotel that you actually got to meet Alastor. He was--creepy, and you couldn't get over the feeling that he knows too much about you. You don't miss the scared looks the others have then he's around, or the predatory gaze he gives you often. But you choose not to think about it, since other than his more than strange behavior, he's pretty kind.

Your stay at the Hazbin Hotel is overall, a nice one, though pretty reliant on you ignoring the whispering in the walls and the strange feeling that you're always being watched. Every day you're here, you feel your mind become more hazy, barely being able to pay attention, and if it wasn't for the others, you feel as though you'd loose yourself completely.

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A/n: sorry for the abrupt ending, Tumblr couldn't handle my ramblings. I'll try to get part 2 out soon, which will focus more on the characters rather than lore. Sorry if this wasn't what you expected.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel

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exhaslo · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 21- Yandere!Miguel x Reader (Breeding/Lactation Kink)

(Requested by reader, also early update bc I'm playing Spiderman 2 all weekend)

It was no lie to anyone that Miguel was a stressed man. His eyes packed more bags than someone did for travelling. You knew better than anyone the pent up tension that man carried. Miguel had the fate of the whole multiverse on his shoulders, plus his shitty Alchemax job. The man barely had time for sleep and himself. Even so, he always managed to find time for you. Miguel had to since he was your loving husband, after all.

You were just a regular person, but you worked with Miguel at the Spider Society. You were the front desk receptionist. Your job was basically to turn people away who accidently entered the building. Apparently which happened a lot. It was an easy job and one where Miguel could keep his eyes on you at all times.

You had been with Miguel for over two years. The man was head over heels in love with you. The moment he proposed you immediately said yes. You were happy to live a life with him. You shared his burdens and he with you. Miguel always said that you were his only stress reliever. Just seeing you each day made his tension melt away. He always joked about locking you away so no one but him saw you. It was cute.

That and the hours of dumb fucking sex. Miguel had a breeding kink. He was always determined to fill you to the brim with his cum, always threatening to get you pregnant. It turned you on so much. Miguel would fuck you anywhere and everywhere. One time he was so horny that he was drilling your pussy right at your desk. He did not care if anyone walked in, just as long as he got to fill you. There have been says where you couldn't move because of how much he fucked you.

"Amor (love), what are you thinking about?" Miguel asked as he approached you from behind. You jumped,

"Miggy, I told you not to scare me!" You whined before hugging him, "I was just thinking about getting a new dress for our date night."

"Hm?" Miguel glanced at the website you were looking at, "But we're having that at home, amor." His eyes glowing bright red towards your exposed breasts,

"Awe, but Miggy, ca-W-Wait," You pouted softly as Miguel's hands already started to roam your body, "S-Someone almost walked in on us last time!"

"Then they'll know that you're mine." Miguel hissed lowly, sucking against your neck, "Nadie puede estar cerca de usted. (No one is allowed to be near you.)"

You trembled under his touch as Miguel already started to pump your pussy with his fingers. Miguel refused to teach you Spanish, saying something about him enjoying your confused expressions. When in reality, he did not want you to know about his dark secret. Placing you against the desk, Miguel inhaled to the sound of your moans. Those sweet, sweet cries, only for him. Miguel made sure that no one got to touch your body.

When Miguel first laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. He did everything in his power to keep other men away from you. He was Spiderman after all, what's an injury here or there? Miguel just pushed you in the right direction for him. Playing the perfect boyfriend until you were convinced that he was. You were so cute as you fell into his trap. Miguel had you all for himself and he was going to make sure it stayed that way.

"Mírate, chupándome la polla tan bien. (Look at you, sucking my dick so well.)" He groaned as he started to pound your pussy from behind. "What is it that you want, baby? Tell me."

"N-Need you to fill me," Your moans were getting louder as he pressed you into the desk. Miguel brought your waist closer to his, making sure to hit you deep each time,

"Te he entrenado muy bien. Todo lo que quieres es que te derrame mi semen todos los días. Te doy mi hijo. (I've trained you so well. All you want is for me to pour my cum into you every day. Give you my child.)" He groaned lowly, giving you his first fill, "Gotta make a mami out of you, right?"

"Y-Yes!" You moaned out.

Miguel licked his lips as he kept going. One was never enough. He needed to make sure you knew your place. He flipped you over, placing you in mating position. Your breasts were bouncing out of your top. Miguel licked his lips as he went to squeeze your breast. You let out a sharp gasp as a sudden release of tension was given to you. Miguel's eyes sparkled as your tender breasts started to lactate. Your adorable face screamed embarrassed while he chuckled,

"Don't look away," Miguel leaned down and started to suck against one of your breasts.

"H-Hah, M-Miggy...T-That-"

You squirmed under Miguel, a new sensation burning throughout your body. Miguel was sucking against your breasts hungrily. You were reaching your orgasm and fast. Miguel felt you squeeze against his cock and continued his harsh pace. He switched to your other breast, wanting to share the love.

"Miguel!" You cried out, panting heavily after your orgasm.

Miguel released your abused nipples, watching your milk drip down your body. He pumped you a few more times with his dick, making sure to fill your womb. Once he was done, he fixed your attire and sat you back down in your seat,

"That was delicious, mi amor. We'll continue this later."

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It hadn't even been an hour since Miguel filled you that he was back. He caught you leaving the bathroom and proceeded to fuck you in the stall, giving you another few pumps of his cum, while enjoying your milk. You body was starting to grow sore and it was no where near time for you to go home. It was like Miguel was under a spell. He kept groping your breasts, wanting you to cum from just his touch. You weren't sure if you were going to last the day.

"I need more water," You sighed softly, feeling dehydrated.

Right as you were about to stand, someone walked into the building. A young confused looking man approached you with what looked like a file in his hand. It was probably another lost interview candidate for the building behind the Spider Society. You told the young man that he was in the wrong building and when you went to stand, you fell. Your legs had given up on you from all of the rough sex Miguel gave you today.

"Are you-"

"Back off." Miguel hissed as he towered over the young man in his suit.

The young man fled in terror. Miguel cussed under his breathe and went over to you. He grabbed your arm before lifting you into his arms. You knew he was mad. Miguel always hated it whenever any guy talked to you. He wouldn't even let you order food if it was a male cashier. He was so protective and jealous that you found it cute, but annoying sometimes.

'Sorry," You apologized as Miguel took you home, "I was going to get a water."

"Then let me know. I'll do that for you," He grumbled.

You pouted towards his childish behavior. Once you arrived home, Miguel made sure you got hydrated. He took your pants off, massaging your legs to try and give them feeling again. His eyes trailed towards your pussy, seeing his cum still leaking out of you. A low growl escaped his lips as he pushed you against the bed. His suit disappearing before he started to stroke his dick,

"¿Por qué sigues desobedeciendome? ¿Ni siquiera puedes guardar mi semilla dentro de ti y dejas que otro hombre te hable? te voy a castigar amor. (Why do you keep disobeying me? You can't even keep my seed inside you and you let another man speak to you? I'm going to punish you, love)" He spat, shoving his dick inside your drenched pussy.

"M-Miguel! N-No more...It's too much," You whined. Miguel groped your breasts, giving them a good squeeze, "Hah~ Ah~"

"Voy a hacerte madre. Darte una muy buena razón para mantenerte alejado de los demás. ¿Tienes esperando en casa toda hinchada por mi culpa? (I'm going to make you a mother. Give you a damn good reason to stay away from others. Have you waiting at home all swollen because of me.)" He groaned, ravishing your cunt.

Miguel ignored your cries as he took your nipple in his mouth. The warmth of your breast milk going down his throat. How could he ever let you leave the house again after this? Miguel needed to be stricter with you. Gripping your hips tightly, Miguel let out a grunt as he filled your womb once more. Your body arched, moaning out in pleasure. Despite your cries, your body always told Miguel what you wanted. You could never be too full.

"Are you learning your lesson?" Miguel asked, releasing your nipple for the other one. You shuddered in response, "I can't hear you,"

"Y-Yes, Miggy."

"And what is it you learned?"

"Mhm, I-I won't," You whined as he kept bullying his cock into you, "I-I'm yours. O-Only yours-"

"And?" Miguel rubbed your clit as he pounded you harder. You gasped, moaning louder,

"I-I'll do as you say. N-no talking to other men, a-and...ah...ah~ M-Migu-" You shook as you reached another orgasm. Miguel chuckled as he gave you another fill of him,

"Good girl,"

Picking you up as he finished, Miguel carried you to the bathroom. He sat you between his legs in the bathtub, messaging your breasts. His whispers about how sexy you were made your brain foggy. Miguel loved the fact that you were lactating for him. His hands kept wandering all over your body, marking you as his.

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You ended up working from home afterwards. Miguel said it was for your protection. You were so madly in love with him and blinded by his true nature that you obeyed him. Miguel always rewarded your obedience. You were his good girl. He made sure you got what you wanted as long as it did not involve leaving the house without him. Miguel made sure that you were always with him everywhere else. If you even stepped out for mail without him, he would punish you.

"Now, what is it that you did wrong?" Miguel asked as he pounded you from behind harshly. You gripped the bedsheets, sobbing from the overstimulation he was giving you,

"M...Ma..." He had made you cum so many times you lost count. You could barely form a word.

"Can't understand you when you're so fucked out and full of me," He said with a smirk, "Oh? You're lactating even more...I wonder if this means I succeeded." He hummed lowly. You moaned loudly as he went to fill you again,

"Mig....s'much....mhm..."

Miguel lifted you up as he gave you one last load. He turned you around, holding your waist up so nothing would spill out of your pussy. He licked your breasts, enjoying the lewd expression on your face. You learned your lesson alright. You were never going to disobey him again. You were his good girl. Miguel smiled as he rubbed your belly,

"You're going to be a mami, amor. I'll have to reward you later,"

"Mhm,"

You just laid against the bed, slowly falling asleep from exhaustion. You were happy and contempt with your life with Miguel. Even if it meant losing your freedom to him. Miguel could have never been happier, especially after finally breeding you. And he wasn't going to stop after just one. You were stuck with him forever.

#kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel

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lioniheart · 1 year

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(It was based on a take I saw earlier today but I think it got deleted)

"Why don't you like me?" Steve asks, not meeting his eyes.

They were on the new Hopper-Byers's back porch, a little bit after dark. The rest of the party had gone inside a while ago but Steve wanted a smoke and Eddie decided to have one as well. It was quite chilly for a summer night, and the wind made both of them shiever a bit.

"Excuse me?!" Eddie replied, after a half a minute of confusion. "Who said I didn't like you?"

"C'mon, man, I know the kids say it a lot, but I'm not actually an idiot!"

"What the fuck are you talking about, princess?"

"See?! Right there! Look, I just don't get it. I know you overheard that conversation I had with Will last week, but I thought you were all for that non-conformist bullshit, and let me tell you, fucking with someone because of their sexuality is very "the man" of you!" His voice was still hushed, but Steve had turned all the way to Eddie's direction now, glaring at the metalhead with what he tried to make look like defiance on his eyes, but were clearly just hurt.

"Steve-"

"The thing is, you've been treating Will just like always, so maybe that isn't it, wich is so more confusing, because I really thought we were getting closer, but now you keep making these jokes and... I don't get it! Did I do something wrong?"

"What?! No--" the other tried to interrupt, but Steve's rambling just kept on coming.

"Is it because of high school? Is the ‘princess’ thing some kind of payback for the whole King Steve bullshit? Dude, I know I was a douchebag- hmpf!"

Eddie, sensing Steve was about to spiral, clasped his hand on top of the boy's mouth.

"Stevie, I'm going to need you to stop right there, okay?" His voice was calm, but his heart was racing. Steve's eyes were wide, his cheeks pink, and Eddie couldn't help but notice how much closer they were now. "I'm so sorry I made you feel like I was mocking you. That was definitely not the intention. The total opposite, actually.” Steve made a questioning noise behind the ringed hand “The princess thing was me being an idiot, actually. I was just..” Deep breath in, deep breath out. “I was trying to flirt with you, sweetheart. Apparently, I’m really bad at it.”

#i was gonna write more but i got sleepy #steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steve harrington is a very confused guy #toxic masculinity and billy hargrove are to blame #pre steddie #post vecna #idk i never actually write anything but here we are #steddie ficlet

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sophiethewitch1 · 3 months

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What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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suzukiblu · 8 months

Text

Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.

(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"

"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.

"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.

"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.

". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.

Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.

"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."

"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"

"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"

Kon . . . blinks.

"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"

"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."

"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"

"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?

"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."

"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.

Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.

Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .

Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?

Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.

Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.

It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.

But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?

Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.

Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.

Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.

. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.

Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.

Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.

Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.

"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.

"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"

She stares at him.

"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."

"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."

"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"

"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.

"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.

Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.

"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.

"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.

"Definitely not," Kara says.

"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.

"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."

"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.

"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"

"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.

Eh, whatever.

He calls Tim.

"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.

"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."

". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"

"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."

"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."

"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?

Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.

. . . then again, Bernard did ask.

"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"

"Yes," Bernard says.

"Bernard," Tim says.

"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.

"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.

"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"

"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"

"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"

"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."

". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."

"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."

"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.

"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."

"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.

"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."

"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."

"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."

". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."

"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."

"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."

"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.

"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.

"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."

"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.

"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.

"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.

"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."

"Kon!" Kara chokes.

"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"

"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.

"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."

"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"

"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."

"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.

"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."

"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.

"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.

"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."

"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.

"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.

Spoilsport.

"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.

"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."

"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."

"How is that obvious?" Tim says.

"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.

"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"

"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.

"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.

"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."

"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."

"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.

"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."

"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.

". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.

"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."

"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.

"You kinda implied–"

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.

So it definitely happened to her, yeah.

"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"

"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.

"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.

"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.

"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."

"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."

"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"

"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.

"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"

"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.

"I'm just asking," he huffs.

"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."

"Right?" Kon says.

"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."

"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"

". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."

"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.

"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.

"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"

"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.

"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."

"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.

"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."

". . . um," Bernard says.

"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."

"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."

"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.

"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"

"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"

"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.

"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."

"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"

"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.

"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"

"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."

"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"

"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."

"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.

"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.

"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.

"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.

"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."

"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"

". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.

Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".

"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."

He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.

"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."

"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.

Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?

Definitely best.

#kon el #tim drake #bernard dowd #timberkon #timkon #timber #superboy #dc robin #rinfic #wip: think pink

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7ndipity · 10 months

Text

When they call you clingy

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: different scenarios in which they've called you clingy.

Warnings: angst, swearing, depression, jk calls himself an idiot, not proofread.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon for this request! I'm gonna be honest, these are all over the place. Some are angsty, some are fluffy, Jimin's is just straight-up comfort because apparently he's part of my emotional support squad. Idk, I hope you like them anyway!

Masterlist

Requests are open

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Seokjin: Bickering with Jin was something that happened often, usually over something you both knew was ridiculous to fight over, like the validity of mint chocolate as an ice cream flavor, but both of you were too stubborn to back down.

Tonight's argument: whether holding hands while sleeping was clingy or not.

"I think it's nice." You argued.

"That's because you're clingy!" He retorted.

"I'm clingy?" You asked, offended. "Have you seen you?"

"What?"

"Last week at that party, you couldn't stand me being more than five feet away from you!"

"That's cause Wooseok kept staring at you and I didn't want him trying to make a pass at you." He exclaimed.

You blinked. "That was why?"

"Yes!"

You paused, caught of guard by his admission. "That's kinda sweet."

"Because I'm a sweet boyfriend." He said, still slightly defensive.

"You are." You assented, coming over and kissing him, making him finally crack and give you a small grin.

"Can we please just go to bed now?" He asked.

"Will you let me hold your hand?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"Then yes."

Yoongi: It was late in the afternoon when you brought him a coffee while he was working on his laptop and, noticing the concentrated frown on his face, leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Agh, clingy." He grumbled, not with any venom, just his usual tone, but it was still enough to make you draw back, excusing yourself so he could work.

Were you clingy? You knew you were more physically affectionate than he was, but he'd never seemed to find it bothersome, but you couldn't help second guessing yourself after his comment.

Later, when he came through to join you, he noticed you were a bit quiet, but didn't think much of it at first, until you sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from him.

"C'mere." He said, patting the space next him.

"I'm good here right now." You said, making him frown in confusion.

"Is something wrong?" He asked.

"No."

"Then why are you way over there?"

"I'm just trying to give you some space."

"I don't want space." He pouted.

"But you said I was clingy."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing." He said, sliding over next to you. "You know I'm not the best at showing my feelings, but that's one of the things I admire about you. You're not afraid to be the one to reach out first, and sometimes I need that. I need clingy."

"Really?" You quirked a brow at him.

"A little, just a little." He warned, trying to hold his hands up in defense, but it was too late, you'd already tackled him.

Hoseok: It was a clear night as the two of you walked around the city, enjoying one of your first proper date nights since he'd got back from tour, and you were taking full advantage of it, trying to keep as close to him as possible, whether holding his hand or wrapping your arms round his waist.

"My clingy baby." He chuckled as you wound yourself around him yet again. It wasn't said unkindly, but for some reason the word kept bouncing around in your head, making you self-consciously shift back to just holding hands. Were you being too clingy? You had always thought that Hobi liked your affectionate nature, but now you were worried if it was a little too much, even for him. Noticing your change in mood, he gave your hand a little squeeze. "You okay?"

"Mhm." You hummed, still thinking.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Am I being too clingy?" You asked, glancing over him.

"What?! Of course not!" He said, stunned. "I was just teasing you earlier, Baby. Trust me, you could never be too clingy for me."

"You sure?" You asked.

"Definitely." He said, opening his arms. "Now get back over here."

Namjoon: Joon had been working almost non-stop for weeks and you could tell it was taking a toll on him, the fatigue clear on his face, but he rebuffed you at every attempt to try and help him relax.

"Can you just give me some goddamn space, you're so clingy!" He'd finally snapped one evening, the final straw in your mind.

That was three days ago, and you hadn't been back to his place since, ignoring his calls and texts. You hated shutting him out the same way he had done you, but you also weren't going stand by and put up with his behavior anymore. If it was space that he wanted, he could have it.

Until you open the door the next morning to a very disheveled looking Joon.

"What are you-?"

"I'm sorry." He blurted out. "For acting the way I have, and for yelling at you like that. I know you just trying to look out for me, you didn't deserve any of that." He paused to catch his breath, seeming to brace himself before looking back up at you. "The past few days have been absolute hell without you, but it made me realize how much I love you, and I know it's shitty timing to say that, but I-"

You shut him up with a quick kiss, knowing if you didn't stop him, he would probably keep talking for at least a half hour.

"You wanna come in?" You asked, to which he quickly nodded.

He still had some apologizing to do, but it was a start.

Jimin: Some day are just shit. Some days feel like you're just circling the drain, constantly the verge of tipping over the edge into the deep abyss, and all you want is something to hold onto and keep you from falling.

Which is why, when Jimin came home late that evening and fell on the bed next to you, you had immediately wrapped yourself around him and refused to let go.

"What's got you so clingy?" He'd teased, trying to tilt your chin up, but you wouldn't let him, tucking your face further into his neck.

"Babe?" He asked, more worried now, noticing you shaking slightly against him. "What's wrong?"

You just shook your head. "Bad day."

"I'm sorry." He said softly, understanding the situation now. "Can I do something? Do you need anything?"

"Just you." You mumbled, your breathing unsteady as you tried to keep from crying.

He held you tighter. "I'm here. I've got you."

Taehyung: "I like this." He mumbled, tracing patterns along your back with his fingers.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm, I like it when you're clingy."

As soon as he'd walked through the door, you had latched onto him, having not seen him in over two weeks while he was traveling.

You frowned, propping yourself up on your hands to look at him. "I'm not clingy."

"That would sound a lot more convincing if you weren't laying on top of me right now." He chuckled.

Shooting him a look, you moved to roll off of him, but he stopped you, holding you tightly by the waist. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't wanna be clingy." You said stubbornly.

"But I like it!" He laughed.

"Well, I don't! Being clingy isn't supposed to be a good thing!" You said.

"I think it is, at least the way you do it." He said, rubbing circles on you sides with his thumbs. "It's nice to know that you like me as much as I like you."

"So, you're admitting you're clingy too?" You poked him.

"You had to ask?" He suddenly rolled till you were pinned under him. "Darling, you have no idea how clingy I can be."

Jungkook: It had caught you off guard when you overhead him talking to one of his friends after dinner. "Y/n's the same way, they're so clingy!" He'd laughed. It might have only been a joke, but it cut you deeper than you cared to admit.

You knew you tended to stick him more when you went out, but he'd always seemed okay with it. Till now now anyway.

For the rest of the evening, you couldn't help but shy away a bit from him, keeping a little distance between you, causing him to grow increasingly confused.

"Are you mad a me?" He asked, once you were alone in the car.

"Do you really think I'm clingy? You asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"What?"

"That's what you said to Mingyu." You said, looking down.

"That was- I was just joking around." He said trying to keep his tone light, but it became clear by your lack of response that you weren't amused. "I don't think you're clingy."

"Then why say it?"

"Because-" He sighed. "Because I'm an idiot. I was just trying to be cool, and I know that sounds dumb and childish, but I don't know how else to explain it." He looked over at you. "I'm sorry."

You studied him for a moment. "I expect cuddles as compensation for this."

"Of course." He agreed.

"And don't call my boyfriend an idiot."

"You got it." He grinned at you, starting the car.

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radiant-reid · 1 year

Note

just saw the post abt having to explain to spencer the talking stage then an actual relationship and how he overhears her telling someone she doesnt hv a bf maybe a blurb/fic on that idea?

Spencer steals glances at you every morning while you make your coffee and chat with Emily. It's so apparent to everyone what he's doing that JJ and Morgan have taken to stealing things off his desk, seeing how much they can take before he notices.

One day, when you're walking back to your desk you make a comment that has his interest piqued even more. "No, I don't have a boyfriend at the moment. I'm enjoying being single."

Spencer's heart sinks at your words, his mind instantly conjuring images of your dates. Dates that should mean he's your boyfriend, right? So why are you telling everyone you're single?

His head is spinning with confusion, and it's turning to anger pretty quickly. Are you ashamed to be with him? Surely if you're enjoying being single, that means you're dating other people or that you're not even interested in him.

He can't believe it, his emotions swinging from anger to sadness. It's unbelievable and you're breaking his heart.

Before you're even sitting down, Spencer's getting up and rushing to the bathroom to calm his racing heart rate before he has to be sick.

Your conversation doesn't even remain in your mind while you continue your day. What feels odd is Spencer freezing you out. Usually, on boring paperwork days, Spencer will tell you fun facts or dumb science jokes just to break up the repetitive work and horrific nature of your files.

He doesn't. Not a single comment comes your way, not even when you ask very open-ended science questions, basically inviting him to ramble about his favorite topics. None of it entices him.

His sarcastic remarks come just after lunchtime with a snappy attitude that irritates you. You're worried about him, firstly. Something must be wrong in his personal life to have him like this, but you can't help feeling a little angry that it's all being directed at you.

You were just starting to really like him and now he's turned around and shown you who he really is just because you're arguably who he's closest with. He's quickly becoming not the type of person you want to be with.

When you're the last two people in the bullpen, you realize you can't let him stay there all night. No matter how annoying he is, you're his friend, first and foremost, and he's clearly going through something.

So you approach him. "Hey, do you want to get dinner?" You ask.

"Not with you," Spencer replies coldly and totally uncharacteristically.

That's your breaking point. "What's wrong? Seriously, you've been horrible to me all day and I can't think of anything I've done to offend you."

Spencer sighs and it's weirdly more regretful than angry. "I... do you remember what you said this morning?"

You frown, unsure of what exactly he's referencing. "No?" Then you quickly add, "But I want to make things right."

"You said you didn't have a boyfriend." He feels pathetic saying it. The idea that someone like you would never be interested had been slipping from his mind, but now that concern is at the front of his mind.

You're only more confused then. "I don't."

"I thought I..." His cheeks flame up with embarrassment and he puts on a front of nonchalance. "I thought I was your boyfriend, okay? That's it."

Oh.

You wish you could have given Emily a different answer that morning. You would have proudly told her that Spencer Reid is your boyfriend, but you couldn't.

"You never asked me." You say softly, shuffling awkwardly on your feet.

"Did I need to?" He wonders dumbly, and it's very obvious that he's just unaware.

You shrug, explaining your point of view. "I thought we were still at the talking stage."

"The what?" Spencer asks.

"Like when you're just talking and casually dating, trying to work out if you're friends or if there's a romantic connection." You describe.

He nods softly before his heart sinks again. "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot." You're easily the best thing that's been in his life for a long time, and now he's totally ruined it. If you didn't think he was too inexperienced before, you do now.

"You're not, not provably." You break the awkward silence and tension that's fallen over the room, making him chuckle a little. "And I like you, exclusively."

Spencer's frown is adorable but it's concerning large this time. "Really? Still?"

"Mm-hmm." You assure him. "As long as you promise to talk to me when something's wrong instead of icing me out."

He stands up quickly, nodding. "I swear and I'm really sorry." He promises you. "So would you like to go to dinner? As boyfriend and girlfriend?"

You try to suppress an inappropriately large grin. "I would."

Spencer doesn't hide his smile and he's awkwardly tripping over his bag and feet to meet you around his side of the desk. "Let's do it." He smiles softly at you, offering out his hand for you to hold.

You take it happily, walking to the elevator with him. "Let's do it, boyfriend."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid blurb

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reiderwriter · 5 months

Note

May I please request a fic where Spencer finds out about the new female team member’s love for gaming by seeing her play her Nintendo Switch on the jet? Bonus if he sees her struggling to beat something like Five Nights At Freddy’s or Catherine Full Body and he helps her out much to her shock

A/N: Thanks for requesting! I'm not much of a gamer myself, so it took a while to figure out what I should write. I went with FNAF because I’ve literally been held hostage by that Josh Hutcherson Whistle tiktok for the last seven days, so I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: mild spoilers for FNAF 4 Night 8, fluff.

“What is that?” Spencer asked casually, glancing over at the screen from his seat on the jet.

For some reason, despite facing monsters in real life, you'd been addicted to horror games in your downtime. Apparently, it was better for you if the crazy murderers were actually sentient animatronics possessed by the ghost of murdered children.

“It's a Nintendo Switch. It's a video game.” You replied without looking at him, heart racing from the pressure of the level.

“Like pacman?”

“Yes, Spencer, like pacman.” You sighed in frustration, trying to avoid running into the animatronics running around the building your character was supposed to be guarding.

“Then why is the screen black,” he said, just as Mad Freddy snuck up on you in the game and you lost the level. You sighed, head falling back in defeat.

You'd been stuck on night 8 of FNAF 4 for at least a week now, but who could blame you? You had to play completely in the dark, and you were dealing with some of the worst animatronics, too.

You'd been so happy to discover 20202020 mode, and you'd passed night 7 easy enough and they were honestly pretty similar, but one week into consistently playing it in all of your downtime, and you were seconds away from sacrificing your switch to the animatronic gods.

“It's supposed to make it more challenging. I think it's just impossible.” You threw the switch down, making sure all your progress (or lack of it) was saved.

“Can I try?” Spencer curiously asked from beside you, smiling at the soft pout on your face.

“Are you sure? It's not exactly your style…?”

“Humor me.”

You passed him the switch, showed him the controls, and snuggled back against your seat, eager to catch some sleep now suddenly. You had just closed a long case, and you may as well try to sleep now before the pile of paperwork made that impossible.

If it was easy to fall asleep, it was impossible to drag yourself from sleep.

You'd felt the familiar movements of the jet jostle you side to side, but you also felt a warmth next to your body that was too comfortable to convince you to even crack an eye open.

After a week on the case, plus a week trying to solve the game level, you really hadn't slept soundly in some time.

So when someone shook your shoulders, you simply ignored the motion again and cuddled closer to the arm and chest you'd wrapped yourself around.

Until you realised that the arm and chest had to belong to a person. And the only person that could be was Spencer Reid.

“It's okay, I'll wake her up, you guys go ahead.” You heard him say, with a few muffled voices agreeing.

You decided to just play dead as you heard the shuffling sounds of the rest of the team climbing off the jet. At which point you just happened to stretch yourself naturally out of your peaceful sleep.

“Spencer?” You yawned, trying to sound confused. “Did we arrive?”

You disentangled yourself from his body, realising that in facing him, your faces had hovered centimetres apart from one another. His breathing was calm, but you could feel his heart beating hard as you pulled away from him, mind racing at the not so innocent touches he traced down your skin as he let you go.

“Yeah, the team got off already. We should probably head out, too, before the cabin crew comes through to reset.”

You stood yourself up and grabbed your things, including your switch, now packed carefully into its carry case.

“So, you gave up as well, huh?” You laughed at the obvious sign of Spencer's white flag.

“What do you mean?” He said, grabbing his own bags now he was free from your grasp.

“The game? It was hard, right?” You smiled at him as he collected himself and turned back to you, pausing slightly.

“I finished the game.”

“What?” You whirled around on him, voice breaking through your lips before you could control it.

“I finished the game. I was just watching the credits when you… made yourself comfortable.”

You felt embarrassment spread through your body but pushed it down to make space for the sheer disbelief that known technophobe Spencer Reid had completed the video game you'd been struggling with for the past week.

“How?” was the only word that would leave your mouth as you froze in the aisle.

“There was a pattern to it. I realised if I went between the left door, the bed, and the right door, the fox thing-”

“Nightmare Foxy.”

“Right, Nightmare Foxy wouldn't come out of the closet. And then the others wouldn't pop up until 4am, and after that, it was pretty easy to get through.”

“Oh my god.” You stood in awe, blocking the aisle and forcing Spencer to stop next to you as well.

“You have to show me how. Please, Spencer, I need to see it.”

You hadn't realised your hand had crept up to grab his sleeve, pushing closer to him slightly.

“Are you free this weekend?” He whispered back at you as you realised that the space between you was miniscule. You could only nod your confirmation enthusiastically.

“Then it's a date.” He whispered again, pushing past you and letting himself off the jet.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #fnaf

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imtryingbuck · 6 months

Text

Oh, He Cheated

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader walks in on her boyfriend cheating then confessions are made

Word count: 919

Warnings: angst? fluff? ima say both, idk. stds are mentioned, swearing, somebody gets punched, and I think that’s it – oh a protective bucky

Masterlist

Walking into your apartment, you come to a halt. You hear noises of pleasure. Looking into your bedroom you see your boyfriend of 3 years having sex with your best friend. You should be devastated of the betrayal, but you simply can’t however you do have to stifle that booming laughter from clawing its way out. You just walk back out the door quietly shutting the door and head back to the tower.

You work for Tony as an “assistant” more like you get paid a ridiculous amount of money just to make sure Tony eats and drinks and not sleep in his lab. Curtsy of Pepper. Both look at you as their daughter which is great as you don’t have a good relationship with your parents. You absolutely adore them and the team. They are your family.

Speaking of family, they’re all sat in the common room talking about something you can’t quite hear. Sam’s the first one to see you, smiling wildly he then looks confused. “What you doing here sugar mama”.

“Yeah thought you headed home”. Comes the voice of your red headed friend Natasha.

“Oh yeah um I walked in on Joe fucking Stacey in my bed so thought I’d come back here, didn’t want to disturb their romp”. You say it like it’s nothing, and if you’re completely honest it’s true. It doesn’t bother you that your boyfriend is sleeping with your best friend.

It’s not the first time he cheated, it happened once and he told you afterwards apparently the guilt got to him. That was a lie, the other woman found out about you so she blackmailed him to tell you. Ever the fool you forgave him he promised not to do it again. You found out about him and Stacey two months ago when Stacey gave you her phone to look through a photo of you two and that’s when you found the videos of them going at it. Then that night whilst he was passed out next to you, you went through his phone to look at his messages between them, they’d been sleeping together for 3 months, he needed his needs to be met and ever the desperate mess she is she let herself be the other woman. You had been busy everyday with the team rebuilding the tower after the latest attack so naturally sex was the last thing on your mind. At first it hurt because she’s been your friend since you were little and you were very much in love with him but now you find it funny. Funny because she told you three months ago she had STDs. He obviously doesn’t know. And that’s why it’s hilarious.

You tell your family this, they’re angry. But you told them you didn’t care anymore the only reason why you was still with him was because of the lease of your apartment. You told them that every time you saw him you wanted to laugh. And that it didn’t matter anyway as you was in love with someone else.

Tony being Tony had already got in touch with your apartment manager to get you off the lease then an hour later you’re back at your apartment with your family behind you. Walking in you see Stacey still there, she smiles at you but you don’t give the gesture back. “Hey boo I just got here wanted to see if you wanted to g-“ her sentence is cut off by Natasha slamming her into the wall. Nats never been a fan. Joe stands frozen looking confused as everyone starts packing your stuff for you, he pathetically attempts to talk to you but gets cut off by Buckys metal fist to his mouth. The team don’t even bat an eye to it but you’re slightly taken back by the punch.

“You ever go near her again or even look at her I will kill you. Try and talk to her I will kill you. Do you understand?” Bucky growls “do you understand”. He shakes Joe by his shirt.

“Yes yes I understand!” He then looks at you “baby what’s this about” he spits the blood out of his mouth.

You look around checking your stuff is gone before you step over to him and Bucky. “If I was you I’d get yourself checked, she’s riddled with stds” Nudging you head in the direction of your now ex best friend. “Oh also the moans she was letting out an hour ago was fake. Your little pecker isn’t great. Ok bye bye” You laugh as you hook your arm with Bucks left one and all of you take your leave.

Later that night you’re on the rooftop admiring the view when you hear someone clearing their throat behind you.

“Hey I didn’t mean to startle you”

“You didn’t Buck”

“So I um who’s the person you’re in love with?”

“You” Why did you just admit that god damn it now he’s goin-

He kisses you. The kind of kiss that’s full of love and passion the kind that takes the wind out of you. “I’m in love with you too”. His voice is raspy before you can speak he’s talking again “will you go on a date with me?” You can’t vocalise your reply so you nod enthusiastically.

Tony finds you both the next morning curled up asleep on the couch, covering the two of you with a blanket he had in his hand he can’t help the smile on his face.

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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golden-cherry · 7 months

Text

deal - cl16 (17/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: That's definitely not the goodbye you wanted.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, swear words

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: sorry for this shitty chapter and sorry for keeping you waiting! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

It's not long before Charles falls asleep next to you.

You hear his soft breathing, the way the bedspread rustles as he slides his arm under the pillow and bends his right knee. Apparently he's lying on his stomach, snuggled tightly in the warmth of the bed you'll share for the second and last time.

That Charles has grown so close to your heart in exactly three days is something you would never have thought was possible in your life.

After Raphael cheated on you and your friends let you down, you vowed to take better care of yourself and your heart and never let anyone into your life so easily again. You resigned yourself to the fact that you would spend the next time alone until you could put your trust in someone again. And that had been perfectly fine with you, as long as it had kept further pain at bay.

But the brunette Monegasque, without making any particular effort, has walked into your life as if God personally had opened the gates for him, and has taken up residence with you as if he were a virus that is taking you over completely.

You turn away from him, but you can still feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of fabric that lie between you.

The fact that he will spend the next few days in Italy is a good start to building the wall that will keep your heart from great harm. It will create some distance between you, buy you more time in which to figure out your feelings. And if it really comes down to you feeling more than simple friendship for your roommate, you'll still have plenty of time to think of some way to handle the situation.

You're about to press your face into your pillow so it can stop the whirlwind of thoughts in your head when your cell phone lights up.

Lando: Did you know that the Eiffel Tower is about six inches taller in the summer than in the winter?

Confused, but grinning, you glance at the screen. It's the middle of the night - why is he sending you such a strange message at this late hour?

You cast a glance over your shoulder to make sure Charles is actually asleep before releasing the key lock, lowering your phone's brightness to its lowest setting, and starting to type.

You: Didn't know that. Why is that?

The "seen" with the little checkmark appears directly under your sent message, and a few moments later the typical three dots that appear when a reply is composed flash.

Lando: Due to thermal expansion, meaning the iron heats up, the particles gain kinetic energy and take up more space.

You have to smile, even suppress a giggle.

You: You googled that for sure.

Lando: You got me. I didn't know the best way to start a conversation.

You: I'd say the middle of the night is generally not a good time to start a conversation. What if I had already been asleep?

Lando: Then you would have woken up confused for sure and blocked me right after the message.

You: Then you're lucky I'm still awake.

Lando: I'm definitely lucky.

Behind you, Charles moves a little, but doesn't seem to wake up. You feel him scoot a tiny bit closer to you, as if he realizes you're still awake.

Lando: Have you ever been to Paris?

You: Unfortunately not. I'd like to go there sometime, though. And you?

Lando: I've been there before. Maybe we can go there together? Then I can show you the most beautiful places.

You have to grin. Straightforward guy he is.

You: Do you really think I would just travel to Paris with a semi stranger?

Lando: You're right about that. But that can easily be changed. You and me, tomorrow, dinner at 8?

You feel Charles rest his hand on your bedspread. It's like he subconsciously realizes you're about to go out with one of his friends. He exhales deeply, but doesn't move any further.

You: That was very smooth, Mr. Norris.

Lando: So is that a yes?

Without giving it much thought, you answer the Brit with a "Yes, I'd love to," whereupon he responds with a "Great. I'll get back to you tomorrow. Don't stay up too late and sleep well" back. You press the key lock on your phone and put it back next to your pillow.

Time you do have. Charles isn't around, and you don't have a job to go to every day, so your days are as free as the beach in winter. And for sure it will do you good to spend time with someone other than the Monegasque. Lando is nice and friendly and funny. And since the two of you don't live together, and the level at which you're getting to know each other is much more superficial than the one Charles and you are on right now, you shouldn't be in danger of taking him to your heart as quickly as your roommate.

Who by now has moved so close to you that you can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck. It's steady, coming in waves and brushing your skin like a warm summer breeze. For sure he is sleeping well, maybe even having a nice dream. He doesn't even know yet that it's the last time he'll sleep next to you.

You close your eyes, almost press your eyelids together and force yourself to fall asleep. With the ulterior motive that the person who is dearest to you right now is exactly the one with whom you will soon have to keep the most distance.

Something rustles.

The sound is close, but not so close that it could find its origin right next to your ear. It also sounds muffled, as if there is a thick piece of soft cotton between the sound and your eardrum, so you can't really hear what exactly is making that sound.

You press your face a little deeper into the pillow.

The rustling becomes louder.

Tired and with your eyes closed, you pull the blanket higher to your chin to cling to sleep. And for a brief moment it works, your mind slips back into a gentle slumber - until you hear a loud, unmistakable rumble.

Annoyed and above all confused, you open your eyes. Your cell phone reads 6:15 a.m. Who's making that kind of noise at this hour?

You sit up abruptly, as if you've been electrocuted, and the covers fall into your lap. Charles.

For sure he is packing up the last things before he wants to wake you up. To say goodbye to you. You're surprised you didn't hear his alarm clock. For sure he only rang it once briefly before your roommate turned it off so it wouldn't wake you up. Very kind and considerate.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and slip into fuzzy socks so your feet don't freeze. As you tie your hair so it doesn't look like you've touched an electrical socket, you hear keys jingle.

Charles wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to you, would he?

Hesitantly, you go to the door of the room and open it slowly to make sure he's still there. And indeed, he hasn't left the apartment yet.

But he has shouldered his travel bag, his feet are in shoes, and the apartment door is open, as if he is about to take the first step out. When he hears you, he turns around.

Confused and still slightly sleepy, you stand in the doorway. You point your finger at the large bag. "Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" you ask him, rubbing the heels of your hands over your eyes. Damn, it's definitely too early to be awake.

Your roommate steps unsteadily from one foot to the other. "I didn't mean to wake you." In his free hand, he holds his key.

You screw up your face. "But you wanted to say goodbye." You cross your arms in front of your chest. "You said you'd set an alarm so you could get up on time and we could say goodbye properly."

The situation is strange. You're standing in the doorway to the room where Charles shared a bed with you, as he stands on the threshold that separates this apartment from the rest of the world. It feels like he's trying to escape from what's happening inside these four walls. Like he can't wait to leave and leave you here.

He doesn't even want to say goodbye to you.

"I know, but-" he begins, but doesn't seem to know how to finish the sentence, which is why he just falls silent. His gaze wanders from your face to the room behind you before he lowers it to his shoes. He swallows once before looking at you again. "Can we talk about this another time?" he asks quietly. "I have to go."

What happened in the last few hours you were asleep? Did you do something to make him want to run away from here? To want to flee from you? The way he's standing there, he seems like he can't wait to finally leave the apartment. As if he had to quickly put as many kilometers as possible between you.

The fact that he doesn't want to talk to you about it unsettles you more than you'd like to admit.

When you were with Raphael, there were many arguments, after which you both went to bed without clearing up the situation or talking things out. That oppressive, stomach-churning feeling was so devastating and caused such nausea in you that you told yourself that you will never again let an argument or difficult situation just stand.

You don't want to go to bed angry. And you don't want anyone to go to bed angry and mad at you either.

"Did I do something?" you ask, letting your arms, which were crossed just a moment ago, fall to your sides. As a sign that you're ready to face whatever may follow. "Talk to me, please, Charles."

Of course, neither of you would go to sleep now. But the very thought that you won't see each other again for another four days, and thus parting, leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. Which you naturally want to get rid of as quickly as possible.

Demonstratively, he glances at his wristwatch. "I don't have time. Let's talk about it another time."

"It's 6:25. I thought you didn't have to leave until 7?"

He clenches his teeth. "I want to drive now." He's visibly tense, his hand almost tightening around the key. Charles doesn't want to drive. He wants to run. From you. And you don't know why.

Somewhere inside you, a small crack is opening up, uncomfortable, pressing on the pit of your stomach. Your discomfort worsens with each passing moment.

"What have I done?" you try again to get him to talk. You cross the room until you're standing in front of him. "Whatever it was - I'm sorry. I don't know what it is that I could have done that upset you so much. But I don't want you to leave now and be mad at me when we won't see each other again for another four days. Let's talk about it. Please."

It's almost pathetic how desperate you sound. Your voice trembles like it's going to break at any moment, and you can feel tears gathering in your eyes. You try to blink them away.

There have been countless situations like this with Raphael. It was always you who wanted to solve an argument. The one who tried harder. Who sacrificed more. And it has brought nothing.

Even though you two have only known each other for a few days, this argument is much worse. Because you don't know what you have done, and therefore you can't change anything. You can't find a solution here.

Charles doesn't seem to care that you are on the verge of crying. His gaze is hard and cold as he looks down at you. He looks at you as if you were a stranger just standing in his apartment.

As you reach out to him, he takes the last step over the threshold. The small crack inside you grows larger, now seems to have reached your heart, forming a great chasm. The wall that has been built so far has been of no use. It is completely useless.

"If you really want to talk to someone, why don't you talk to Lando?" His tone is icy and his gaze sprays venom.

Lando?

Charles seems to have picked up on your confused look. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes, which stings you further. "Now don't act like that. He texted me in the middle of the night asking what culinary cuisine you prefer for your dinner tonight." He raises an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd already had an extensive conversation about it. What was it again? Canned soup and BigMac?"

Your discomfort gives way to an even more rotten feeling. Anger spreads through you like a wildfire you can't stop it. How dare he?

"What are you trying to say?" you ask calmly, even though everything is burning inside you. Charles interfering in this matter when he has no right to do so makes your anger spill over, but you know better than to take it out on him directly. You pull yourself together. Even though you'd like to strangle him, you don't want you two to fight.

"Come on, Y/N." His smile is spiteful and ugly - even though he's the most beautiful man on the planet. "We both know he's just trying to fuck you. So what's the point of dinner? It's just a waste of money."

Excuse me?

"What do you mean?"

He seems to think for a moment, as if he were struggling with himself to say the next words. "After all, what Raphael did to you doesn't seem to bother you much if you're going to date someone new right away. And you said yourself yesterday that you weren't going to meet anyone on this couch." He extends his free arm and waves it in a semicircle in front of him. "Let's do it, then. Monaco is full of rich men. Then you don't exactly have to hook up with one who's my friend."

Never in your entire life have you wanted to smack someone so badly as Charles at this moment.

He knows what Raphael did to you. And he also knows why your ex cheated on you. The fact that he now assumes that you would just jump into bed with Lando like that upsets you so much that you're at a loss for words.

You don't recognize him. The Charles who lets you stay with him for free, who makes you laugh, and who is so close to you at times that you have to consider how to protect your heart, has dropped off the face of the earth.

Opposite you is a mean and ruthless man you can't get away from fast enough. His words hit you harder than any blow could, and the tears in your eyes no longer originate in discomfort, but in pure rage.

You don't care what you did to make him act this way. You don't care what exactly happened between you that caused this argument to degenerate like this. And you don't care if you go to bed tonight mad at him.

This argument is different than the one over his phone call with Raphael or the one at dinner with his friends. It's too close, too personal, and for Charles to think of you that way, after everything you've told him about yourself, chokes your throat and makes your heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

"You can have the apartment," you say emotionlessly. Your fire is extinguished, your anger is suffocated. The only thing left is a dull feeling of grief.

How could you think Charles would be any different? That he would actually be a friend to you? You even showed him your favorite place. That wasn't even twelve hours ago.

"When you come back, I'll be gone." Your gaze is fixed on Charles, letting him know how serious you are. Something flashes in his eyes, but whatever it is - you don't care. "I hate you."

Without waiting for an answer, you close the apartment door. As you turn around, you feel like an intruder in your own home.

Which, theoretically, isn't even your home. It's Charles' home, it's his apartment. He's just been nice and let you stay with him. And he didn't do that because he saw a friend in you, but because he felt sorry for you, as you must now realize.

Did this "good deed" make him feel better? Did he let you stay here to prove to himself what a good guy he is after everything with Annika? Is he really that selfish?

Who exactly is Charles Leclerc?

You would like to leave the apartment immediately, because there is nothing that doesn't make you remember Charles. The couch reminds you of the evening when you drank wine and watched Cars. The kitchen table is where you eat pain au chocolat and croissants. The bathroom is where you grin at each other in the mirror as you brush your teeth. Charles is everywhere.

He's especially in the dark bedroom, too, when you return to lie down in bed. His sheets are still where you found them when you woke up, and his smell is all over the room, making it hard for you to breathe.

Pulling your own blanket up to your chin, you lie there staring at the ceiling, racking your brain as to where exactly you took a wrong turn. But for the life of you, you can't think of anything.

You turn on your side and take a deep breath. Charles' smell hits your nose and only now, surrounded by darkness and silence, do you allow yourself to cry. Tears roll down your skin and one sob after another escapes your sore throat, which feels as if it has been laced shut. Your body shakes like it's electrified and somewhere inside you think your heart has stopped beating.

The person you trusted the most has let you down. Your closest friend has dropped you without explaining himself to you.

But that's not what hurts so indescribably.

It hurts so much because it's Charles. The Charles you saw as your best friend after only a few days. The Charles who didn't judge you.

You slide to the other side of the bed and slip under Charles' covers so that you are now completely enveloped in his smell. You feel so close to him, even though he's so far away, and even though the warmth feels like a hug, you feel lonely. You cling to that hug that isn't a hug, because that's the closest thing you have left of him.

Tomorrow you would look for another apartment, maybe even move away from Monaco. And then you would pack your things and leave, just like you promised Charles. And you wouldn't break that promise - that deal, the way he broke his.

Not long ago, you didn't want to share the bed with him anymore, braced yourself for it to be the last time you'd be this close. You wanted to build the wall that would protect, should protect your heart.

But it's no use building a wall when your heart hasn't been yours for a while.

next part

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc headcanon #lando norris #Charles Leclerc fluff #Charles Leclerc angst

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baby-yongbok · 7 months

Note

OK I saw an anon asking for another hyunjin fic bc of the vmas (tbfh same) and have an idea for another vmas hyunjin fic (if you’re up for it) hear me out:

apparently people were freaking out the other day bc there was this video going around of Sabrina carpenter waving at hyunjin when it turned OUT she was actually waving to Dixie damelio bc they’re friends…what if y/n saw that and thought she was waving at hyunjin too and got super jealous? I know I would even though I love Sabrina lol. so she starts giving hyunjin the cold shoulder and answering in one word responses etc and he’s confused so she says something like “why don’t you ask your new girlfriend” and he thinks it’s cute that she’s jealous and reveals Sabrina was waving to Dixie not him. And even if she did wave to him, he’s 10000% in love with you and absolutely does not want anyone else. Then after their performance and skz is backstage he pulls you into a closet/private room, locks the door and proves to you just how much he wants/worships you and no one else, in his sweaty state 😫 something like that? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about vmas hyunjin either and who can blame me

ps I’ve written to you before and idk if you take emojis for anons but if so can I be 🪽 anon? I love your writing sm and I know I’ll be back! I wanna be friends but I’m a lil shy lol… 🙂

I DID IT. IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, DON'T HATE ME. 😭 Here you go, my love ❣️🪽

Let Me Show You

Hyunjin × Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3,442

Warnings: Semi-public sex?, Cum tasting (That should be it ❣️)

✨️Masterlist✨️ ✨️My First VMA Fic✨️

Surely you were seeing things right? You had to be seeing things. Maybe it was the stage lights or the adrenaline from the boys' win getting to you but you swear that the very beautiful and very talented Sabrina Carpenter just tried to shoot her shot at your equally as beautiful and talented boyfriend. Maybe it was harmless, Sabrina is a K-pop fan so maybe she was just trying to grab his attention and give him a friendly thumbs up or something.

You check your phone while you make your way backstage to meet the boys, of course they’re trending on every app that you have but a particular twitter post catches your eye. You stop in the middle of the very busy backstage hallway as you read the video caption for the third time, ‘Are Sabrina Carpenter and Hyunjin flirting?!’. You click on the video quickly, bringing the phone closer to your face as if you could zoom in on the interaction. It’s right there, it’s in very poor quality but it’s there nonetheless. Hyunjin definitely gave Sabrina a look and according to the video he did it more than once. You can feel your stomach turn as an emotion runs over you but you can’t figure out if it’s anger or jealousy, maybe it’s both? You take a deep breath and start walking again, you stuff your phone into your purse and shake your head a bit to try and get your thoughts together. This is a big night for the boys and you don’t want to ruin it for them by having an attitude but you also don’t know how to deal with this cocktail of emotion bubbling in your veins.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Baby, can you help me put this on?” Hyunjin holds his necklace out in your direction and you take it from him quietly. He furrows his brows a bit before turning around and allowing you to put the jewelry on him. He noticed your shift in attitude since they got their award but he thought that maybe you were just overwhelmed. He watched you as they got ready for their stage, you laughed with everyone and were talking to staff casually but when it came to him you were silent and short spoken. He instantly started replaying the last hour or so in his head. What could he have done to upset you?

“Thank you.” He turns to you and leans in to kiss your cheek but you pull back slightly, looking in the opposite direction. “Angel, is everything alright?”

“Yup.” Your eyes look everywhere but at him, even when he moves to your side to sit next to you.

“Are you sure? You’ve been quiet, did I do something to upset you?” He places his hand on your knee and you promptly cross your legs to get him to move his hand. You shrug your shoulders in response. Your gaze falls on Felix as he takes pictures of everyone in their finished looks. “Baby, come on.”

“Don’t you have someone else to talk to?” You huff, an over exaggerated sigh following your statement.

“Hm? What do you mean?” Hyunjins brows knit together as he racks his brain trying to understand what you’re referring to.

“Why don’t you ask Sabrina? You seem pretty interested in her.” You roll your eyes and Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at your sharp remark. Felix had shown him a couple of the trending tweets along with the video of Sabrina waving in his direction, they laughed about it and Hyunjin told the guys that she definitely wasn’t waving at him and if she was he didn’t even notice her.

“Ah, you saw that video?” You shift in your seat scoffing at his question. A small smile pulls at his lips as he watches you, you don’t get jealous often but gosh was it hot. Something about you giving him the cold shoulder turned Hyunjin on, maybe it was the way you rolled your eyes at him and how sassy you were everytime he tried to touch you. Whatever it was, he was enjoying it.

“Everyone saw the video, so yeah.” You bite back, glancing at him for only a second before looking back over towards the rest of the boys.

“Baby, she wasn’t waving at me and even if she was I didn’t notice her. I was looking at the Stays that were seated in that direction.” Your heart starts to hammer in your chest as his words sink in. You can feel a blush spreading over your cheeks and a tinge of embarrassment in your core. He had pointed out the row of Stays in that direction earlier in the night but in the heat of the moment you completely forgot about it.

“Why would I look at her when I have the most stunning woman in the world here with me tonight, hm?” He snakes his arm over your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. “Is my jealous girl blushing?”

You hide your face in his chest, trying to avoid his gaze. How embarrassing is this? Looks like you got jealous for nothing.

“Look at me, angel.” Hyunjin tries his best to gently pry you away from him but he’s interrupted by Chan calling everyone to get ready to go over to the stage. You look up, only because you know he has to go but his fingers catch your chin before you can look away again. Your shy gaze meets his and he smiles down at you, but it’s not a regular smile. It’s the type that he uses when he’s up to something. He plants a quick kiss on your lips before standing and holding his hand out to you.

“Come, you can watch on the backstage monitor.” You take his hand reluctantly, an apologetic smile on your face. He shakes his head, chuckling a bit.

“My possessive baby.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The boys absolutely killed their set but that was to be expected. You heard loud clapping and cheering as they made their way from the stage, a mixture of praises both towards the boys and the dancers. You join the busy crowd, clapping and looking through the sea of people for Hyunjin. Suddenly, you feel large hands on your waist and you turn around to see your boyfriend looking down at you with a grin. He’s sweaty and his breathing still hasn’t calmed down completely, He’s discarded the vest that he had on during the performance leaving him in only his black tank top. You open your mouth to congratulate him but he puts a finger over his lips, hushing you before taking your hand and pulling you with him. He makes his way in the opposite direction of the boys, towards the quieter part of the venue. You recognize the hallway from when the boys took pictures earlier, Hyunjin leads you into a small cut off hallway where some extra supplies seem to be stored. He closes the door behind you, placing a piece of paper over the latch so that you two don’t get locked in. He turns to you and you look up at him with confusion woven in your features.

“What are we doing here?” You look around thinking that maybe you missed something.

“You know that you mean the world to me, right?” Your heart starts hammering in your chest again, your grip on your clutch purse growing tighter as embarrassment washes over you again.

“I know, I’m sorry I should’ve asked you instead of drawing conclusions.”

“Don’t apologize, you were being protective of what’s yours.” Hyunjin takes a couple of steps towards you, one hand sliding into the pocket of his brown designer pants.

“You know that I’m yours, right?” Your mouth goes dry when you take in his deepened tone, what exactly did he bring you here to do? You press your thighs together, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Your black form fitting dress rides up a bit from movement. “Answer me, angel.”

“Yes, I know you’re mine.” You clear your throat, trying not to show how much his words are affecting you.

“I only want you, you’re the only woman I ever think about, the only woman I ever look at.” He steps closer, reaching up to cup your cheek. You close your eyes and lean into his hand. His fingers brush against your lips. “Do you believe me?”

You shake your head, opening your eyes to meet his. He smiles at you before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, melting into him. Your arms find a home around his neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue parts your lips, slipping into your mouth and stealing a taste of you. You moan into his mouth and he smiles against your lips. He pushes you back gently, prompting you to take a step back. He leads you backwards until your back hits the wall, you gasp, breaking the kiss and Hyunjin takes it as an opportunity to trail soft kisses over your jaw and down your neck.

“Hyunjin…we can’t do this here.” Your words are anything but convincing and you know for a fact that you don’t mean them. After the rush of jealousy that you felt earlier topped off with the breathtaking performance that he just put on with the boys’ you know that your body is more than ready for him.

“Let me show just how much I love you.” He plants a wet kiss right below your ear before whispering. “I want you to feel how much I want you, only you.”

Hyunjin presses himself against you and you moan at the feeling of his hard dick straining against his pants. “Only you do that to me.”

“Hyunjin.” His name leaves your lips in a breathy moan, you can’t think of anything else to possibly say. He’s completely fogged your mind.

He starts leaving sloppy open mouth kisses on your neck, rough yet slow actions of affection. His hands trace up your sides, lightly scratching at the fabric of your Versace cocktail dress, dragging the fabric up your soft skin and exposing your plush thighs.You trail your free hand down his arm, moving to palm him through his pants but one of his hands swiftly grabs your wrist, pinning your arm to the wall behind you.

“This is about you, baby. Only you.” He whispers against your skin before his lips make their way down to your chest, sucking and biting at your skin leaving red marks in his wake. His other hand grips at your waist, pulling you towards him and making you arch your back off of the wall.

“I’m all yours baby.” He slides down onto his knees. Sitting in front of you, his large hands trailing down the soft skin of your legs. He looks up at you, his sparkling eyes surrendering to you. “I would never worship another woman like this in my life.”

He leans forward, pressing soft kisses to the outside of your thigh and making his way to the sensitive skin leading to your core. You spread your legs a bit to give him better access and he groans at the gesture. His hands snake up under your dress, he hooks his thumbs into the thin straps of your thong and leads the garment down your legs. You step out of them, and Hyunjin wastes no time bringing them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale.

“Fuck, I love the smell of you.” His words are breathy yet stable, he stuffs your thong into his pocket, a treasure for him to remember this moment by. He peers up into your attentive yet fucked out gaze, watching you as he sneaks the pad of his pointer finger up to caress your soaked folds. You jump at the contact, a deep moan leaving your throat, you hadn’t realized how much you needed his touch until now. You relax as he runs his finger up and down your heat, circling your clit and teasing your entrance a bit. Your hips buck against his hand, silently begging him to stretch you. Small whimpers fall from your parted lips as you keep your eyes on his.

“You sound so beautiful, angel. You’re so fucking perfect.” He pushes his finger into you slowly, curling it upward to caress your g-spot. You bring your hand up to your mouth in an attempt to drown out your moans. Hyunjin shakes his head, fucking his finger into you a bit faster. “Let them hear you, I don’t care who it is, Let them hear what I do to you.”

“Hyun- Fuck” He adds another finger, scissoring them inside of you to stretch you out. “Oh my god, that's so good.”

“Only the best for you, this is only for you.” He leans up on his knees, sticking his tongue out and licking up the wetness dripping down your inner thigh. His tongue works its way over to your cunt, flicking your clit at a delicious pace that makes your back arch off of the wall further. He hums against you as you buck your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling as you beg him to keep going. He keeps up the pace, his tongue never stopping until you're finally pushed over the edge. You cry out in bliss as you cum hard, your body trembling with pleasure. He laps up every bit of your arousal that he can catch, leaving light kisses on your swollen clit as he allows you to come down from your high just a bit.

“You taste like heaven” Hyunjin groans as he pulls away from you, licking his lips to clean up the mess you made. Your mind is clouded with lust, the jealousy from earlier nearly forgotten. The only thing on your mind now is how badly you want the man in front of you. How badly you need him inside of you.

“I can feel like heaven for you too.”

“This is about you, angel.”

“Then fuck me, please. If this is about me then make me forget about that stupid tweet. You’d do anything to please me right?” Hyunjin, stands from his position in front of you. Your eyes stay locked on his dark ones as he towers over you.

“I’d do anything to please you.” His words are soft and strong, he leans into you, catching your lips in a sweet kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue as the kiss deepens, the gentle nature that Hyunjin held seconds ago melting away into a frenzied lust.

“You drive me insane.” He whispers against your lips and you moan into his mouth. Your hands run down his clothed chest, taking in his firm core and his shirt damp with sweat. You run your hand over his hard cock, palming and stroking him. A pornographic moan erupts from his throat, he breaks the kiss and his jaw hangs open in bliss. You look up at him, watching as he bites his lip with his eyes shut tight, concentrating on the way your fingers move against him.

“I want you to fuck me like she’s watching.” Hyunjin groans deeply, furrowing his brows at your words. “Show her that you’re taken.”

Your words flipped a switch in Hyunjins head, he grabs your hip, turning you around and swiftly pulling your dress up to expose your bare ass. He lands a firm smack on both of your ass cheeks, the sound echoing throughout the room.

“I’ll show her.” He presses his clothed bulge against you and you can feel him unbuttoning his pants with one hand. “I’ll show her who I belong to.”

He runs his hands over your bare skin, his touch gentle yet possessive. He leans in and whispers in your ear “I’ll let everyone know I’m yours.”

You gasp as you feel his cock part your dripping folds, stretching you out deliciously. He pushes in slowly, allowing you a bit of time to adjust to him. Your moans fill the air as he slides into you, once he bottoms out he leans forward, pressing you into the wall so that you’re flush against him.

“I’m yours” He moans as he starts to move, his hips pushing against yours in a rhythm that intensifies with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping echoes through the hallway but is easily drowned out by your shared moans. Your head falls back against Hyunjin’s chest giving him the perfect view of your fucked out expression. He leans down, leaving soft kisses on your forehead, a sweet contrast to the rough thrust of his hips.

“You’re mine.” Your words make Hyunjin’s hips stutter, pushing into you deeper, he bites his lip as he takes it all in. The way you’re clenching around him, your moans mixing with his, the way the head of his cock hits your sweet spot. It all drives him closer to the edge.

“You were right.” His thrusts become faster and harder and you squeeze around him as you draw closer to your release, meeting his rhythm with pleasure. “You do feel like heaven.”

His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he comes undone, his moans mingle with yours as he fills you. The feeling of his hot release throws you over the edge, you fall apart seconds after him, his name falls from your lips like a chant as your pleasure washes over you. You both still, his dick stays deep inside of you as you both try to catch your breath.

“Thank you.” Hyunjin hums in response, soft pants falling from his lips.

“For what?”

“For showing me that you’re mine, this might’ve been the best type of reassurance ever.” You chuckle and he follows, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself. But, please remember that I mean this, there’s never anyone on my mind but you. You’re all I think about.” His sweet words send a shiver down your spine and you can’t help but to clench around him.

“Oh fuck.” Hyunjin groans with a chuckle and you can’t help but to smile. “I need to pull out, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself if you do that again.”

He slides out of you slowly, whines escape both of you from the sensitivity of the action. He tucks himself back into his pants and you turn around to face him, still leaning on the wall for support.

“How am I supposed to go back out there with your cum dripping out of me?” You look down at the mixed arousal running down your leg and Hyunjin smiles at you.

“Here.” You watch him as he kneels before you, dipping his tongue out and licking the stream of cum running down your leg. A groan falls from your lips as you watch him taste your mixed arousals. He trails his tongue up your leg, collecting all of the juices that drip from you until he reaches your swollen cunt. He runs his tongue over the sensitive flesh and you shiver in response, your head falling back against the wall and a moan escaping you.

“Baby, I’m so sensitive.” Hyunjin hums in response and the feeling of the sound vibrating through you makes you clench around nothing. He dips his tongue into your hole, lapping up most of your arousal and cleaning your cunt to perfection. Once he’s satisfied he pulls away and stands, wiping his chin clean and smiling at you. He gives you a moment to recover before taking your chin between his fingers and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Next time that you get jealous just remember that you and I are made for each other. We’re perfect together.” You smile up at him and he leans forward kissing you with wet lips. He parts your lips with his tongue and gently runs his over yours. The taste of your mixed arousals flood your mouth and you relish the flavor. He breaks the kiss just as you move to deepen it, a slight whine falling from your lips. He grins down at you before running his thumb over your swollen bottom lip

“See? Don’t we taste good together? I only want you to mix with me, no one else, okay?” You nod your head, a sweet fucked out smile pulling at your lips. “I love you, angel”

“I love you too, baby.”

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seonghwaddict · 9 months

Text

forget-me-not — kim hongjoong

in which the wall separating you and him is very thin, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

neighbour!kim hongjoong! x fem!reader. genre. fluff, comfort. warnings. a storm. wc. 1k

lilo’s notes. happy birthday @pocketjoong!! a little hongjoong drabble to celebrate sky’s birthday!! i also have a permanent taglist now so if you’d like to be added please let me know :]

listening to. round and around, jo yuri.

masterlist

you really hated thunderstorms.

as you lay in bed wide awake a little past midnight, you flinched as thunder roared outside your window, the soft pitter patter of rain hitting the glass not easing your anxious mind. usually you’d be able to handle it, but since you moved into your apartment only two months before, there was a minimal sense of comfort.

despite living here for four months, you hadn’t quite settled in. the furniture from your previous apartment was still on the other side of the country, complications with the transportation preventing you from receiving it until september. but, nevertheless, you did enjoy living here.

sure, the walls were quite thin and most nights you could hear commotion in the neighbouring apartments… but the complex was well kept and the people in the surrounding area were friendly enough. you had even gotten somewhat close with one of your neighbours.

the first time you met hongjoong was in a park just around the corner of the building 3 months ago. you had reached down to pick a flower, unaware of the handsome man reaching for the same one, vision somewhat blocked by the large box of utensils in your other hand. when your fingers brushed against each other, the two of you jumped apart as you realised what had happened.

“oh- um… you… you can have it.” you’d muttered, gesturing to the beautiful white flower.

he had merely smiled and shook his head, a soft smile stretched on his lips. “ no, no, it’s ok. you should take it. i think you would’ve reached it first anyway.”

still unsure, you furrowed your eyebrows and looked around in determination to find an equally pretty flower. finally, your eyes settled on a bundle of baby blue forget-me-nots, setting your box down and walking over two small steps to crouch and pick them. after standing up, you held the bundle of flowers out to him.

“you can have these, then,” you had smiled at him warmly, “they match your sweater.”

he bowed politely and walked away with a small smile after accepting the pretty bundle of flowers while you picked up your box in one hand and the single white flower in the other and walked to your new home. soon enough, you realised you’d have to encounter the cute silver-haired man more frequently than you expected.

this became apparent a day later when you stood in the lobby and called for the elevator to go up to your apartment. once it reached your floor and the doors slid open, there he was, standing on the other side and waiting for the same elevator.

“oh, it’s you,” you wanted to smack yourself in the face for not coming up with something better to say. but, nevertheless, that still got his attention as he glanced up from his phone screen.

after a moment, a look of recognition passed over his face and his eyes seemed impossibly soft. it had something stirring in your stomach and you weren’t sure if you welcomed it. it was then that you learned that he was the one who lived in the apartment on your right and frequently had his friends over who were sometimes so loud you could hear them through the wall of your bedroom. but you didn’t tell him about that last part.

from then on you’d see each other more often, whether it was in that same park, leaving your place as he enters his, small talk in the elevator.

eventually, he even realised how thin the walls were. one night you were scrolling through your phone in the comfort of your bed when you heard a loud thud followed by a “SHIT!” through the wall. You say up, confusion written all over your face as you tentatively knocked on the wall.

“you okay?” it took him a second to respond, looking around his room with just as much confusion to see where the voice came from until his eyes settled on the wall separating his and your bedroom.

“yeah, i’m okay.” he sat cross legged on his bed facing the white wall. then he spoke with a slight laugh, “i knocked over my lamp.”

after that incident, it wasn’t unusual for you to have late night conversations through the wall. sometimes you’d be writing your book, asking for suggestions and forgotten words through it and he would help you out. other times he’s be working on his music, playing it just loud enough for you to hear so you could give him a second opinion.

but now as you lay flinching and sobbing in your bed, everything was silent and you were alone. well… until there was a small knock on the wall by your head.

“you okay?”

you pulled the covers closer and nodded your head, soon realising he couldn’t see you. “yeah, i’m good.”

“really? because i can hear you sobbing through the wall.” you couldn’t see him either, but his face was so full of concern it was obvious he actually cared. “you can talk to me, you know…”

when you didn’t respond immediately, he thought you fell asleep. but your small, shaking voice said otherwise. “i-i’m gonna sound stupid…”

“try me.”

his answer was so sure and caring it nearly brought heat to your face. nearly. because as you opened your mouth to respond, another boom of thunder crashed outside your window that has you cursing loudly. he tilted his head, brows furrowing.

“are you scared of the storm?”

“no… okay, yes maybe a bit… a lot actually.” you admitted, squeezing your eyes shut at the prospect you just might have embarrassed yourself in front of your super handsome and pretty much perfect neighbour.

“that’s okay, there’s no need to be ashamed of it.”

you could hear the caring smile in his voice and could almost picture it as well. so, you relaxed. unsure of how to respond, you stayed silent.

“tell me about your day, y/n.”

you knew damn well he was just trying to distract you and talk you into forgetting about the weather, but you answered. and then it turned into another meaningful conversation as he kept your mind too busy to worry about the thunder and rain and lightning. your crying and flinches and shaking subsided quickly and you relaxed as you listened to the voice of the man you were beginning to fall for.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu

#bjnet #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong fluff #hongjoong fluff #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez au #kpop writers #kpop writing #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong drabble #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong scenarios #cromernet

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cupid-styles · 7 months

Text

you're my last shot

second blurb of my fall/halloween series ! this one honestly has nothing to do with halloween but imagine it happens in fall :) there will be a halloween-themed blurb for them coming on sunday!

word count: less than 1,000

content warnings: pregnancy, discussion pertaining to abortion (no action taken)

masterlist | talk to me

fall blurb masterlist

. . .

Y/N isn't quite sure when she and Harry started hating each other so much.

It's been months, probably. Maybe a year? She doesn't really remember; all she knows is that the second he melded into their friend group, she thought he was cocky and annoying, flirting with every person who so much even looked his way, and she didn't like that. She didn't like him.

The mutual hatred between them was fine up until now, but... now, it seems like it's a major inconvenience, because Y/N is standing in her bathroom staring down at four positive pregnancy tests and Harry — she shudders — is the only person she's slept with in the past three months.

It had been a moment of weakness. A huge one. Massive, really, fueled by a few too many drinks at the bar, a shared spliff outside, an alcohol-fueled decision of, "well, we live in the same neighborhood, may as well just take an Uber together" that ended in a heated makeout session, followed by one of the most passionate nights Y/N has ever had. (She'll never admit that to him, but she swallows it down for herself.)

There was something about that night. He was being less... awful than he typically was when their friends went out. He didn't eye fuck the entire bar, didn't buy any drinks for the cute girls flirting with him. He was tolerable and apparently that was enough for Y/N — well, drunk Y/N who gets a little too horny when she has rosé in her system, and when she eyed his large hands and tattoos in the Uber, and she felt him shift just a little bit closer to her in the backseat, and when he whispered "just for tonight, no one has to know" into her ear, she was a goner.

And now she's pregnant with his child.

What the fuck?

. . .

It turns out that that's Harry's exact response.

"You said you're on birth control—"

"I am."

"So what the fuck happened—"

"It must have failed, Harry, there's still a chance of conception even with the pill."

"Are you serious—"

"Do you think I would joke about this?"

He's pacing around the diameter of his living room, trying to digest the news. She understands. It took her about 48 hours to process that this was happening to her, and then an additional 24 when she realized she had to tell Harry. She hadn't told anyone else — not any of their friends or her mom, because she wasn't sure what she wanted to do and she didn't want her decision to be fueled by any outside opinions. As much as she despised him, she believed Harry was the only other person who had a say in this.

Finally, he sits down. Well, it's more a noisy thump as he crosses his legs on the carpet, burying his head in his hands. She sighs, feeling marginally bad for him, even if she was having the same response a few days ago.

"Listen, I'm fine to have an abortion. I know we're both pro-choice and we really don't have to do anything with this... thing. Just, like, Venmo me half the money for one and I'll get it done."

Harry looks up at her, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Why would you get an abortion?"

"Why wouldn't I get an abortion?"

"Because I want to be a dad," he says with a shrug, as if it's a given that he'd want Y/N to mother his child, "You may be my only shot. We all know I have a shitty relationship history, who knows if I'll be able to have another kid."

"Harry, this is insane. We can't stand each other, this would never be a healthy situation."

"Why not?" he presses, and Y/N seriously can't believe he's fighting back on this, "Co-parenting is totally normal. We don't have to be married to have a kid together. I'm ready."

Her eyes widen. "I literally watched you funnel a bag of wine last week, and you're 29 years old."

"I only do that shit because I have no reason not to. If we're having a baby, I'm more than happy to stop partying and focus on becoming a dad."

"Do you— like, do you even know what being a parent requires?" Y/N asks, "You would be committed to dealing with me for at least 18 years. Money, emotional support, being there for everything. Soccer games, school shows, parent-teacher conferences, graduations, doctors appointments..."

"I want kids, Y/N. And if you're my only chance, I'm not gonna say no."

She thinks she might puke on the spot.

"You look like you're gonna pass out. Are you okay?" Harry questions, standing from his spot on the rug and stepping towards her. She puts her hands up, a silent and invisible boundary. He stops.

"Are you... set on having an abortion?" he asks quietly, "It's okay if you are, that's your choice."

She sighs. She hates to admit that she's not. That over the past four days, she's envisioned what it would be like to snuggle her sweet baby, to kiss them and hold them and be a mom to them. That, worst of all, her dating history is just as glum as Harry's and, whether she likes it or not, he may be her only shot at parenthood, too.

"I guess I'm not," Y/N breathes, setting her eyes low to the ground. "I know I only have so much time and... I do get scared that I'll miss my opportunity."

"Yeah," he nods in understanding, "Do you wanna... like, take some time to think then? Maybe reconvene in a couple of days?"

Reluctantly, she agrees. But she already knows that she doesn't need any more time to mull it over — she wants to have this baby with Harry.

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x oc

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morgana-ren · 9 months

Note

Has your opinion/understanding on Astarion's character changed much as you play through the full game?

Actually, yes! Big spoilers again btw.

So, I will admit, my perception of characters is always slightly biased. It's always tilted in favor of my own predilections and desires, so I tend to see things in a skewed way. The less information I am presented, the more my brain will fill in the gaps thusly.

In the early access, Astarion is presented as a selfish vampire spawn clawing for his own survival from the vicious vampire lord that spawned him and has held him captive for centuries. It should be noted that he is one of the only companions open to the idea of abusing the tadpoles rather than removing them and only seeks to cure them if they cannot be controlled. It becomes apparent that he craves power above all else. He dislikes altruistic speech options, tends to veer directly towards ones that bolster said power, especially at the expense of other people. He seems the closest to a stereotypical 'chaotic' follower that you really get.

However, he isn't evil. He's a very rounded character despite his inherent selfishness. He is manipulative and vicious, but he is also desperate and afraid and slow to trust. Most of what he does, he does for his own survival and comfort rather than active malevolence-- though that isn't always the case.

You get an alright idea of him in the early access, as in enough to know if you're going to want to keep him around and invest time into him as opposed to just dropping him at camp perpetually. You catch glimpses of the man he is behind it all, but mostly he appears flamboyant, resourceful, flirtatious, and of extremely dubious morality. Fun, right?

Very, very wrong, actually.

As you progress through the game, you come to understand him better, and it's... tragic.

The first thing to slip is his explosive temper. He is confused, bitter, and frightened. He expects Cazador around every corner, stalking in every shadow, watching and waiting to sling the collar around his neck and yank once more. Paranoid. He has mystery scars painstakingly carved into his flesh that he cannot see because of his condition, in a language he cannot read, with horrible memories he doesn't want to recall. He is angry, and he isn't in the company of people he trusts even remotely at first and literally cannot remember the last time he was in centuries. He bottles up all those emotions to avoid the devastating vulnerability of showing emotion and shoves them down beneath his posh and nonchalant facade, and eventually, it finds a way out.

Occasionally, he snaps. He becomes enraged and has these moments of intense anger.

And then, there is what you might think to be a moment of connection.

Astarion, once he decides that he approves of you, will make a move to seduce you. Should you accept, you might find that he says something along the lines of "Isn't that why you came? To lose yourself in me?"

It seems like typical seduction dialogue at first, but this is very deliberate. The wording is very deliberate as is everything he does. Like a choreographed waltz that he has danced again and again and again--

Until it comes as natural as breathing.

After your night together, he evades a conversation that would take anything any further. No relationship, no nothing. Just a one off that turns you into the equivalent of ye olde fuckbuddies. He stays by your side, of course, but nothing changes between you other than him acknowledging what happened.

So, you progress a little more.

Eventually, both through necessity and happenstance, he does end up opening up little by little. And you find out bits and pieces about him. But there's one that stands out to me:

The crazy blood bitch in Moonrise dehumanizes him, speaks down to him, and refuses to even acknowledge his personhood. She only speaks to you, and makes you an offer regarding your 'property.' An invaluable potion for a moment with 'your pet vampire spawn.'

And he has a visceral reaction to this.

If you have a fucking heart and you don't make him do this, he comes to speak to you later and confides in you. Cazador had used him essentially as a honeypot, forcing him to use his body to lure unsuspecting citizens back to the vampire's den-- against his will. He was so degraded, so dehumanized, and so looked down on for so many years that he has genuinely come to believe that it's the truth. He thanks you genuinely for considering him and viewing him as a real person with emotions and feelings, but is also... confused. He doesn't understand, because that rotten, stagnant belief is still a truth to him: That he is nothing but a tool and a means to an end; that he doesn't matter. That he is a filthy thing to be used and cast aside when convenient. He doesn't understand why you didn't make him do it when it was only his comfort on the line.

And if you ask him to drink from her, he will. He stiffens his upper lip and drinks despite the fact that something is wrong and he knows it. He does it because you command him to. Because that's what he has done for so long that you don't have to have the lord's control over him anymore for him to follow orders.

There is a moment of stark, dreadful realization that sex and seduction have an entirely different meaning to him but he has still been doing it. That the love and connection that he truly needs might be support and a friend and not a bedfellow. That his agency and personhood have been stripped away for so long that he doesn't even recognize them anymore. He is bitter and mean but vulnerable and confused and terrified and he doesn't know how to seek comfort, so he resorts to what he knows while simultaneously distancing and degrading himself.

He does not believe that he is worth loving or caring for, or anything but being an object to be molded. Used. Discarded. He suffered for so long that this is a fundamental truth to him. He is a monster. A filthy vermin barely a step above the rats he's been fed.

You do what you should do: You give him the power. You try to build him back up. Try to help him understand that he isn't a monster or a tool. He is a man; he is a person, and he deserves a say in his own fate. His wants and desires matter. What he wants matters.

If you've done things right, he will take a gigantic leap of faith. He will be with you-- truly be with you. It's slow and he doesn't understand, but he knows he wants it, and you take it as slow as he needs-- but he's still hurt. He is still scarred.

In the Sharess Caress, there are a pair of Drow twins that will attempt to seduce you into what is essentially a foursome. If Astarion is there and he is a love interest and you attempt this, he will say "I'm really not ready for this." while looking extraordinarily uncomfortable, and almost panicked. The scars are still there, and they're barely healing over, and still so, so tender. Easy to tear right back open. Easy to push back into his shell to never come out again, because he tried vulnerability and it burned him.

He does not think he is worthy of love or happiness. He doesn't get to have a loving partner who adores him. Even slipped free of Cazador's yoke, his claws are still stuck steadfast in his soul. He is taking it slow and barely learning to trust another being again, leave alone put his neck out and care for one. He wears his misery as a shield because it cannot hurt him that way. He is a monster who has done horrible things and deserves to be alone forever. And even if that isn't the truth, then Cazador is still lurking out there, waiting to strike-- to rip away that newfound happiness.

Astarion is, above all things, a truly tragic character, and one that I empathize with. It makes my adoration for him slightly guilty. I'm not all the way through the game quite yet, but what I have seen hurts my heart something dreadful. With my character, he is slowly learning to trust and love again, but it's painfully apparent that he thinks he doesn't deserve this, and he is simply waiting for something to fall apart and send him back into the spiraling black chasm that is his life. He still believes all these miserable things about himself. He was forced into immortality, and he believes he's going to spend it alone, reviled, and wretched - not to mention enslaved.

As fun as it is to have a sexy, dark, controlling Astarion, I don't think it's necessarily true to his character as he is presented if you choose to do things right. He isn't evil - he is a complex, tragic man who desperately needs to be able to see his own reflection in a way that isn't horrifically warped by everyone else's eyes.

Vampire. Monster. Killer. Slave. Pet.

It's been so long he's lost track of himself. Of Astarion the man.

He needs to find himself and find peace. He asks to view himself through your eyes, maybe because he's looking for something-- anything-- within himself to hold onto.

If you ask me again in a few days, I'll probably have a fully fleshed out idea of his character, since I'll probably have completed the game or at the very least gotten a bit further, but this is what I have at the moment. Doesn't mean I'll stop writing Astarion as I adore, but I've always openly admitted that my writings on characters are skewed despite their actual content lmao.

#morgana and friends #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers

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pedge-page · 9 days

Note

I can imagine preggo wife literally talking and talking and talking in the middle of a movie and gets offended and leaves when Joel tells her to quiet down

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife : Yapper

notes: Oh I had fun writing this! no warnings (maybe some Fugitive and Raiders spoilers), Enjoy!

- - - -

Joel’s pretty excited for movie night. It’s one of the few films the two of you don’t argue over and can pretty much watch the entire way through without disruption.

Or at least, it used to be.

Joel settles against the couch armrest with his feet propped up, knees bent slightly so you have room to sit in front. He’s got any snack you could think of within an arm reach away, and he’s got the title on pause so you can scooch your fat booty and big belly comfortably. Usually takes about 15 minutes of squirming, smacking his chest to “fluff” it up, adding a pillow at his crotch, then taking it away because you like his hard cock there instead, elbow in his groin and then his knee, then you gotta get up to pee before starting the whole process over.

“OK Im ready!” You say after 15 minutes on the dot, snuggling close to him with the back of your head rested against the crook of his neck.

He finally hits play, and the Lucasfilm logo flashes across the screen. The tropical forest and ominous music plays as the familiar font of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark fade on to the screen.

“Joel. Joel. Hey Joel.”

“Y-yes?”

“Did you know Indiana was named after George Lucas dog? Who also was the physical inspiration for chewy?” You ask rhetorically.

It takes him a second to understand you’re asking him a question. “What?”

“Chewbacca! From Star Wars!”

“Oh ok neat,” he says with some enthusiasm, but quick to end it and get back to watching the movie—

“Yeah also Sean Connery is also apparently—well guess how much older he is to Harrison Ford.”

“Um—I don’t—I don’t know.” Joel says slowly, watching as Indy carefully removes the sand from the pouch and weighs it to the gold idol.

“C’mon, guess!”

“I really don’t know, can we—“

“12 years older than Harrison in Last Crusade! My mom was like ‘WHAT no way’ and I was like ‘Yes way’ and she was like ‘He's his father and he's got all that white in his hair and receding hairline’ and I was like ‘Joel's only in his late 30s and he's got white in his beard.’”

Joel can’t hear a damn thing happening on screen except the shouts about hating a pet snake named Reggie. “Wha—“

“Not that you look anything like Sean Connery in Last Crusade. Maybe in like Bond —oof he was the hottest Bond. Plus you got like a receding beard-line with all the patches, I don’t know, but my mom was like ‘Ya know Joel's got more white hair lately since you've been pregnant’ and I was like ‘Nah uh’ and she was like ‘Ya huh’ and I was like ‘Huh I wonder why that is…?’ Anyway but nope only 12 years between him and Ford—“

Joel turns to look at you with a frown, a bit confused and amazed at how you have so much to say, right now, oblivious as ever.

It doesn’t phase your rambling one bit: “—Like damn, but you know Harrison Ford has always been handsome. But like in the bad boy kind of way, not like handsome upstanding like Christopher Reeves? When I saw The Fugitive, I was like ‘oooohhhh I'll be his wife now’ hahaha! no no I’m sorry, he’s famous and I’m not so that’s why I married you, but that's such a fall film don't you think? Minus the murder and betrayal and fucking Dr Charles Nickles like was he British or not? He was in and out of an accent the whole time? Didn't make sense to me but yeah, it's just such a fall Cozy film.”

Joel looks back at the screen and realizes Marion is already being cornered by the Nazi creep: “Ah huh—honey—“

“OH! I Love her song! It’s kind of like Leia and Han’s from Empire except the last notes are different, like it goes do doooooo instead of da dat dada daaaaaaa, That’s just John William’s for ya, but you’d never notice they were so similar!”

Joel opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out as you continue:

“—Also I know you said my mom made good apple pie but I really wanna try to make it because I want you to like mine more, so I need you to get some apples and pie crust and butter and stuff from the store, I’ll make a list so you can get it. They said we need ground cinnamon but I think ours expired like 5 years ago so don’t forget that. And then I'm gonna tell you how to slice the apples since I can't handle sharp objects and then oh I need you to get the mixer from the top shelf and then you have to mix it all together and slice the top with like little heart patterns and then put it in the oven n stuff ‘cause it's hot and I don't wanna burn OH and that reminds me—!”

“BABE!”

“Hmm? yes?” You ask with a innocent smile.

“Let's try to be quiet and watch the movie ok?”

He offers a gentle smile and nods, pointing towards the TV again and settling to watch it with his beautiful wife.

His very very very unhappy wife. Your eyes haven’t left his, face now downturned in such a scowl, he should be shitting his pants.

You roll your jaw at him once, teeth grinding against one another with slitted, murderous eyes. Joel gulps, too afraid to glance back at you again. His eyes are wide staring at the commotion on the television but, now in your deadly silence, he can’t seen to focus on it at all.

Instead of saying anything, you roll polly up to your feet, arms crossed over your chest defensively as you utter a loud “Hmph!” before storming away from the living room.

He’ll have to deal with groveling tomorrow morning when you might be a little more welcoming. But on the bright side, he’s got way more room to spread out on the couch and he can hear the movie much better now!

.........

He switches it off and runs upstairs to get on his knees by your side of the bed, begging for your forgiveness and promises of a Clyde's milkshake to go.

- - - -

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