#but maybe theres a glimmer of light

[joannasteez]

sing, just for me

pairing | roman reigns x black reader warning | explicit content, including descriptions of sex. minors please do not interact. if you count flirting as fluff then sure i guess, theres some of that. supernatural element, so yes, its an AU!!! word count | 5.8k ... quiet nights of quiet stars, quiet chords from my guitar, floating on the silence that surrounds us... lyrics in red (corcovado by stan getz and astrud gilberto)

the strum of a spanish guitar and a sweeping staccato, these quaint bristling eruptions that pulse the room to life with a softened awakening. long aged spirits and slow to sip lips. abstract mosaic tilings glimmering with the paling yellow of lowlights. and through lush rouge lips comes a haunting melody. a song of lovelessness, to stain his spirit with a sorrowed tenderness. easing his bones till he lulls into a deep surrendering. and his fingers prick with warmth, alive with a daring sort of desire to touch and embrace. to console. the gentle silk dressing your skin parting and draping over in reverence of the high slit at your thigh, seemingly for him. to have, to hold, to care for.

but isn't that what every man thinks? that your crooning is for them alone. that when the passion of the melody becomes too great and your fingers begin to roam, nails sharp but feathery and caressing about the air and your own skin, that it is them you're thinking of. and when you shudder, when you hiss, breathy and overcome, isn't it them you imagine? touching and pleasing till that wordless teeming desire is fulfilled? because the allure beyond the burning in their eyes scorches your skin, forcing a craving in your bones. such lustful men, bound by the sin of their own dreams, and the ego that makes them believe all this grace and flare is made pure for them alone. but how can they not think those things? how can he not think these things? when you go on about so sweetly, eyes flitting to theirs, to his. and here he's caught. rapturous and silently pleading that you never look away. 

roman knows you, but not in the common way that a man knows a woman. not by name or by touch, or the familiarity that comes with soft spoken passions and loud terrible expressions. he knows your voice and your sultry little songs. and in some small, hidden, back alley lounge just on the pensacola panhandle, he comes nightly to hear you sing. just as the burn of the sun falls behind the horizon, till the early morning hours, where the sky pulls out from darkness into a paled blue. 

he sips at his dark liquors, tucked partly in the shadows of ill lit corners, bathing in the light of your songs. 

but even in his silence, he shares the depths of his appreciation. flowers to match the rouge of your lips, the petals tender to the touch and blooming prettily. and every other night, they appear, at the foot of your dressing room door, waiting to be swept up in the caress of your fingers. and just before every show, as the audience waits with bated breath for you to take the stage, he sends a shot of liquor your way. 

"courtesy of your admirer. for your nerves", the young bartender gives after pouring. the short glass filled with whiskey. 

and though your nerves cry from the bitterness of it, you take the taste in stride. feeling the warmth of it in your belly, just as high heels click toward center stage. 

stringy flicks of guitar, short clicks of percussion and the gentleness of your vocals smoothen the air once again. an intimate warmth he won't get used to. days, after weeks of a far away admiration and here he is still, drawn in quickly by the mystic of a woman he'd never known. 

but you thought of him too. of the whiskey he drank as his eyes lingered, and whether not the bitterness was as terrible in the glass as it was on his tongue. or maybe it didn't linger so heavily there, undone by warmth and the teasing slips it took over his teeth as your palms caressed over your hips. lips parted, singing wispy, slicing faint into the heavy silence of the room. and how could you sing about such a lovelessness, when his hands— fingers locked in with one another, long and heavy— trouble your imaginations as you go on raspy and impassioned. thinking of where they could roam and what they could do. 

surely his ego would take to a bursting if he knew. 

but it didn't. 

the bristling staccato of the drumming brush rustles the air but your voice fades with the spanish guitar to make way for the brassy float of a saxophone.

and there he is, sipping his whiskey, lulled into the atmosphere. 

your heels clicking over the floor, a surety laid in your bones. slipping easy onto the leather seating beside him. one leg crossed over the other, the high slit in your dress draping to reveal soft tempting skin. and his eyes take to you there leisurely, not overly greedy, but enough to indulge an obvious show of your own play of desire.

his eyes flit to your lips, the rouge color similar to blood. he wondered often, since his first time here, what they might taste like. the pull of them. 

"enjoy the show?"

your voice, this slow slip of honey. 

"it was nice", roman says simply. as if that pitch and tone hadn't stained his every roaming thought and daydream. 

"for all my hard work i figured i'd get higher marks. with how enthralled you are, nice is just a little to plain for my taste", something like a pout forming your lips, not too deep less you have him believe you actually care.

"you have a beautiful voice".

his own. deep. rich. binding to your bones. 

your fingers play with his pour of whiskey. the liquor swirling as your wrist twist the glass. the strength of it hitting your nose. "as beautiful as your taste in liquor, so i guess you hated it".

he grins, clutching the glass to finish his drink. body closer. the brown of his eyes clearer as he comes just under the dim casting down of the yellow lowlight. an arm stretching behind to lay against the top of the leather seat. becoming comfortable. 'thats good', you think. comfortable is good.

"you should know by how often i'm here that i enjoy you very much".

and there is a quiet here, among the soft sing of music. his eyes looking into yours and yours into his. a moment to allow the settling of words, once before a mere silent admiration, now formed whole with letters and persistence to bring about a more complete desire. it is, maybe an invitation. an open palm, waiting for assent, the soft embrace of the other.

"enjoy me more". you stand. reaching out to pull him with you. "no more flowers and hiding in the shadows. dance with me". 

his touch is colder than your imaginings but kind all the same. scent warm and autumn inspired despite the swelter of the summer season. a sweet spice that lulls you closer. a soft slow swaying together, intimate in it's own silence. and beneath stylish expensive feeling fabrics, you can sense the strength of him. lips lined soft and kissable, tempting. and his eyes from here, where you press into and sway with his embrace, are familiar. intense and consuming. a thorough take to your own eyes, as if to remember the little things. the shape of your lips, and the brown apples of your cheeks. the coy look up from under fanning lashes. an easy trailing over him, to note and remember in your own way. 

"your songs", he starts.

you hum. "what about them?"

"they have a... somberness to them". 

he leads your body gently behind a floor to ceiling oak pillar, done up with abstract relief carvings. a corner all to yourselves. you feel his hand maneuver, trailing to a less innocent placement. fingers long as they spread and sweep along the spine, pulling in till you flush softly to him. 

you make no struggle to stop him, to pull away. you lean in even. 

"i sing what i know". 

the intensity of him breaks with a softening. "have you never been in love? has no one ever made you feel love in that way?" 

"if they have, i don't remember". 

pain corrals in him. spills over into his chest and his words. makes the utterance thereof small and aching. "thats a shame". 

"is it?", thinking over what possible shame could come from something never had. "seems burdening to me. i have bills, i have enough things to cry over". 

"things? you mean love?" 

the way you speak so flimsily about it. is there really nothing of your memory? nothing of before? 

"better to have never loved, than to love and have lost". 

he smiles. "i don't think that's how the poem goes". 

"ooohhhh", you tease. "he's well read". 

he spins you. slips his embrace under your arm so that his hand meets the other at your lower back, at that less than innocent placement. 

you take the time to breathe him in again, to smoothen your touch over the ways of his arms till they join lazy about his shoulders. nails roaming his nape in such a teasing fashion that it shivers his already cold skin. he's closer here, just enough to share his breaths. to see the freckles in his cheeks. 

"he, is roman". 

spine throbbing as his thumbs caress. his name slipping over your skin till its beneath and staining. and the spill of the saxophone is melodic. pleasant and soothing as he watches the rouge of your lips part. you tell him your name.

"we're on a first name basis now". 

"we are". 

the rumblings under the softness of his voice is divine. disrupts your skin till the hairs stand and nerves rush. memory washed with a familiarity you can't place. 

his tongue peaks to slip over his lips. "can i ask you to do something for me?" 

"what?" 

his cheek presses to yours. and you feel the beginnings of a trembling. something ancient and belonging set into your bones. 

"sing quietly. just for me". 

mirth slips into your lips. the skin of your cheek rubbing against the hairs of his. lips breathy and teasing at his ear. "personal performances are expensive". 

"i'm worth my weight in whatever way that pays you". 

and even the angels, in all their majesty, can not delight nor arrest him so sweetly. with such a devastating gentleness of spirit. for the heaven in them, could not possibly do well to understand the haunting of this solemn summer song. a wispy falsetto, and the plucking of that spanish guitar once more. a soft sweeping melody into his ear. here, the sing of your voice is the tenderness of roses, having died once and remembering the pain of such a silent wilting, rising in spite from the earth again to bloom beautiful but with a familiar weariness. roman lulls, eerily surrendering, with the ease of a taken sailor by the song of the sea. 

his touch is an endearing press into your body. no more of that idleness as they curl. dull and gripping into silk covered skin. 

his eyes shine. taken. raptured. 

your foreheads touch fondly. your nails still doing well to caress his nape. something like nostalgia corrals in your belly. in the rushing of your blood. his touch new but old. 

his breath on your lips. close and sweeping against your face. his nose plays into the soft of yours. this finding of intimacy easy, as if it has existed before.

he hums. hearing the echoing of your singing still. 

"so much like a siren". 

"they're killers". your nails sharp with a slow sinking into his skin. enough the prick. to have him feel the possibility of pain. "of men specifically". 

his own fingers curl inward again. endeared to your warmth. "i guess i'd be susceptible then". 

you smile. thumbs running from his neck to the work of his jaw, where the hair is thick and bristling, till you find your self soothing over his freckles. his own touch soothing just the same into the line of your spine. his lips planting into your palm. into your wrist, lingering to feel the pulse of your blood against his mouth. 

"you're too warm", kissing your wrist once more. "too welcoming to be so cruel", he says. as if he knows you well enough to know such things. 

"and what if that's the act before the inevitable?" you gaze flickering up through your lashes. touch slipping again, along his neck, thumb over the apple of his throat. palms coming down to hold at his arms. feeling the thickness of them beneath his clothes. you smile. "i sink my teeth into you before ripping you apart". 

the music is light. eases your bodies into a swaying still. alone together in this little corner of the lounge. of the world. 

"you make it sound like a good time". 

"depends on what you're into i guess". 

"you seem to like to play with your food". 

your lips grow closer. the seam of them faint and teasing against his. sharing breaths and the thinning control to not act so suddenly on long built desires. 

"a bit of patience makes for a better savoring". 

he grins. wide and daring. "i just like to go for what's mine". 

"whats yours?", you laugh. so typical. you play an eye roll. "who knew men could be so possessive".

he lips take their own gentle trailing. from near your mouth to the supple skin of your cheeks, steady and light, soft at your jaw till they go about your neck. the tip of his nose pressing into your pulse. fingers deepening into your back, urging an arch into your spine as you cling to him gladly. 

your blood thrums harshly. thrilled. he hums, licking his lips, and the slight of his tongue wets your skin. and there he is warm, that much you can feel. 

"as possessive as the day is long. you're not wrong about that". 

"but it's night time now". 

he kisses your pulse. the touch of his mouth sweet. stirring. the mantle in your belly burns. 

"that's when the pursuit is sweetest". 

he spins you again and you take the time to breathe. to gather the restlessness in your body that longs for him to do something undoubtedly amorous. and that same hope dances in him, plays about his nerves and the set of his eyes. 

"where do i know you from?", too troubled by the possibility to ignore it. 

"nowhere". 

"then why is your face so familiar?" 

he grins. "you wouldn't believe how many women have stopped me to tell me the same thing. maybe i just have that face".

'bullshit', you think. the idea laughable. "you're too handsome to be familiar. maybe it's just them easing their way into trying to fuck you. compliments and a sense of familiarity go a long way".

his forehead rests to yours, his throat humming. mulling over your words. guiding your hips through the melody still. 

and when he speaks, the lewd make of his words stick to your lips. 

"do you want to fuck me, angel?"

your breath hitches. lightly trembling again in his arms. in the tightening bind of his fingers. your blood sweetening in his nose, like the first drips of honey. 

"is it not obvious enough? do you have to ask?"

and no he does not make you suffer. does not force the words off your lips, to soothe the width of his ego. it would only sour the warmth in his hands, for a woman such as yourself should not beg. should not reel with an exposing desperation, even amidst the shadows of such ill lit corners. she should be taken as she so coyly wishes, with firm sweeping tongue and the powered grip of an impassioned lover. and roman had no qualms of doing such, of kissing you greedily and forming your body to his. of curling his hands to bruise the silk of your dress, fabric crushing in his fingers till the high slit ran into his palm, leaving your skin bare. whiskey on his tongue, slipping lewd, with much method, to leave you drunk off the wet roaming of it as he buried into your skin else where. 

your back roughs into the oak pillar, carvings kneading into you. the brush drum steady, louder, accompanied by the bright trill of a piano. 

roman moans into your mouth. light and deep. breathing tensely through his nose. your hands take his, searching over skin to guide him. the heat nestled between your thighs coaxing his tongue to lick into your mouth. 

he smiles. your breaths rushed and ragged. a lone finger taking a simple glide till he slips through your slit. and the silk of your heat is something memorable. a soft warmth he's known once before. groaning, mouth open to breathe into you till he's ruffling into your neck. 

your hands cling to him and your hips chase him. whimpers singing from your throat. 

"you'll have to forgive me, but i need you quiet", he gives. feeding the long tease of his touch pass the tight ring of resistance, till he's seated deeply. steeping his finger till satisfaction bruises his nerves. he wonders, after having you tremble again under him, if he'd ever be satisfied. "charge it to my own possessiveness, but i can't have them hear you. hear how pretty you sound". 

he retracts, to join in another finger. a thicker stretching that leaves you to struggle against the breaking of a moan. your face hot and damp. the air thick and his mouth at your pulse urging your blood to rush, as if it knew it was him nestled against it. 

"okay?"

he strokes wet, firm feeling and slow. a patient working in that reverences the wild throbbing you take to it. an uncontrolled, mindless pulsing about his fingers. 

"need you to answer me when i speak to you". 

and his voice grows dark. controlled but undefiled still in the depth it holds to. it sinks into your flesh, commands your lungs to breathe, for words to form. shy and pliant. "okay". 

he moans again, licks into your skin, savoring the salted taste of sweat. and his touch feeds into you, roams into a roughness, the staccato of the brush drum blending seamless with the arousal coating his fingers. a sticky, pitchy mess singing lewd from your pussy as you struggle not to curse brightly into the thick air. but he makes it nearly impossible to breathe, to collect even the smallest sense of control. and his pleasure works over your body in familiar ways, remembrance sullying your bones till they surrender from some odd far away sense of knowing. as if all the skin and bones and nerves that make you have found something long lost, teeming with joy at such a faithful reunion. 

his lips pull into yours once more. your fingers holding over his face, keeping him there, to suffocate under his tongue. a sweet sweeping in, lapping lazy over yours in his own delirium. you suckle over the whiskey taste, thumbing into his cheeks. 

your core tightens. a salacious warning. burdening and hot as his thumb joins in to push against your clit. 

your forehead knocks gently into his cheek. nails sinking into his thick neck. unable to speak by his request but so desperately needing to express the weight nailing over your nerves. 

the tension, unreleased, builds over. pricks your eyes with a glassiness. you tremble still. "roman please", wispy and small. 

his skin delighting with the brush of your breath. desperations of pleasure bleeding into his skin. the ache and the burden of your arousal seeping hot over his fingers. clutching onto the thick of them. needy and mindless. 

his eyes meet yours. breaths stuttered and words ill formed as the heat of his staring pierces. flecks of red revealing before their disappearance. your mind too muddled by pleasure to care. 

"have at it", he whispers. thumb rolling over your clit as he deepens the ways of his fingers. "it's yours". 

your mouth presses into his shoulder, to muffle the cry that comes with that wild bursting heat. the pulsing in your skin and the heaviness in your chest. fighting for air as his mouth sweeps to kiss over your lips. fingers reveling in the messiness of your release. playing through your slit, soothing over your clit till he pinches the pearled nub, wringing out the remains of arousal. your hips rutting to chase the sensation, insatiable and wanting still. 

you whisper to him, rushing and grinding your hips still. "i'm renting upstairs. s'not too big, but it's not bad, if you-if you wanted to come up-"

"lead the way". 

and not much goes into the song and dance, of feigning interest about egg shell white apartment walls, and the color of your furniture. or how your place is just a greater carrier of the way your skin smells. comfortingly sweet and all consuming. his eyes not minding the antique lamps and neither does he care too much for the stacks of books and large hung up paintings. because he remembers these things quite clearly —your knack for artistry and your mind for words in books— of the woman he knew before you, the one with a different name but, her, your face all the same. the innocence of your forgetfulness twinging where his heart used to be. because how could he be angry, at the things you fail to remember, when now the peace upon you rests so dearly. years of waring with himself about ancient decisions long forgotten, as he spreads his tongue through the swollen slick parting of your folds. enraptured still, after all this time, by how your taste coats his tongue. arresting even the sharpest parts of him. 

the lay of your body picturesque along the kitchen island counter. and the marble top is not nearly as cold as his skin, but it shivers you all the same. late night, early morning, summer breeze willowing over you. 

the drawling alto of your moaning much different from earlier. something rawer and less refined but angelic all the same. a blend of feathering whimpers and ill controlled swearing, ravishing his ears. coaxing them to burn red as they rest between the heat of your thighs. and when he dips over the swollen nub of your clit, lips kissing messily, his eyes take to the curves of your skin. supple plans of warmth that leave him aching. 

your mouth opens lax, devastated by pleasure. fingers twisting against the hard peaks of your nipples. rutting up against his wet mouth for more of his good torture. his tongue invasive and exacting. thick and stroking against the lush opening of your body. and your moving is mindless, driven by blood lacing lust. the ball of your foot hooking into the broad muscles of his naked back as the other aches idle under the weight of his fingers. pushing into him, holding him hostage. 

the soft sweat dampened slope of your back arching. fingers curling into the edges of the kitchen island. "you're so damn greedy for it", toughing out of your mouth. words cutting through short breaths. 

he moans. dipping his fingers where his tongue had been. eyes casting over the swell of your breast, where your breaths shudder outward. delirium overtaking, slowly, steadily, dulling your eyes and the manner of your nerves. his thumb finding your clit with ease. pressing firm. "can't be a bad thing, not when you're shakin and tightenin up for me like this".

your head rolls straight, to find his eyes dilated. near black even. "you like it".

"no, angel", that delicate term returning to wreck havoc over your skin. "i love it". his lips pursing as he gathers a sticky line of spit, letting it drip to your clit. a man possessed, watching you pulse about his fingers. "real sensitive to my touch". and the kiss he leaves along the mess of your folds is terribly gentle. something like a gift. lips pursing, sweeping with tongue, as if he were taking in your mouth. and there he stayed for sometime, tonguing over the swollen bundle of nerves, nailing into your thighs, and breathing in the essence of your warmth. "y'sound so sweet when i have my tongue on you", going on like a man long starved of touch, passion unsullied by time. and when he parts, mouth and the bristling hair of his beard soaked over, the groaning that draws up from his chest proves to be uninhibited, a bout of impatience slipping in his blood to poison his resolve. 

his vision fights for sharpness, for control over more primal urges. "wanna hear you when i make you come".

you smile. overdone with pleasure. "so many request". 

"request can be denied". his tongue laps lazily, in a means to savor, and he moans till it shakes into laughter. amusement coursing him as your thighs flex in attempt to close against him. "you have yet to deny me". 

and his truths are proven. the spasm seizing your nerves and the drool pooling from your pussy enough to satisfy the surety of his words. the lithe forming together of a speechless pleasure breaking from your throat like feathered little songs. an ensemble of gasping and whimpering brighter than the day sky. and when you fight for air, to reel in the overtaking frenzy, the coarseness there in your throat rumbles beneath your skin, till its a deep resonance slipping into his ears, daring to drip into his blood. an everlasting poison. 

a siren indeed. 

roman plants kisses into your skin, a slow trailing up towards your navel. face planted into the heat of your belly. the scent of your arousal, a sweetened ambrosia. his chilling hands roaming over the aching in your thighs till their kneading reaches your hips. your numbed fingers run into the roots of his hair, circling over his scalp tenderly. 

"c'mere". 

you sigh. blissed and pliant. legs and arms shakily wrapping over him till they cling for fear of letting go. your nose tucked into the thick of his neck as he carries you to the soft leather couch. 

and he just barely overtakes the quaint little furniture, nestling into its corner to spread his leg out as the other bends to hang over comfortably. 

you waste no time. lips molding over his dewy ones, your taste steeping into your tongue as you suckle over his. nimble fingers undoing his pants till his cock is heavy and hard in your palm. his dull nails threatening to bruise your hips as he flushes your pussy over him. breathes undone and stuttering, mindlessly working your still swollen clit over the thick of him. tip pink and aching for something more than the tease of your folds. and a nostalgia takes to his bones, a similarity of passion paining him, memory this boundless flooding. the sinking in of your nails as you kiss his mouth and the heat of your skin, clinging to him for fear of losing him, all too agonizingly familiar. he can feel it beneath his toes, amongst the sensations of bliss, the sand of summer beaches and with the burning at the tips of his ears a bright bursting laughter. far away memory comes to him here, flowing along a breeze. 

a fist takes to his stiffness, the other hand holding up your hips. your lips trembling, one against the other. sharing thick intimate breaths. and amongst the late night silence, he stretches you delicately. a leisure, deft upstroke that waits with patience to feel your warmth. a steady handling of your hips as you attempt to settle him in. 

your jaw opens lax, gasping as the knocking out of wind leaves your words broken. 

"shhhhh", mouth pursing into yours. kissing into your cheek. once and then twice. his hips winding up into you. and the racing of your heart echoes in his ears, forces his tongue into a craving. your blood sweet in his nose still. "take me slowly", palms working your hips to grind into him again. spine throbbing, dazed even as your throat sings with little pleasures, heavy breathed and delirious. "relax into me", a soft command that overtakes the stiffness in your body, coaxing you to settle, molding into the thick mass of him. nearly impossible to tell the beginnings and endings of your bodies. "breathe". and your lungs open, the headiness of him delighting your nose. 

and the tenderness here is similar to gentle rain. the light kissing of lips and the working in of pliant fingers, caressing soft blissed skin. your heart beating with vigor against his chest, strong enough that it feels as though one exist within himself, pulsing about and filling him with life. 

his sharp teeth pull at your bottom lip, edging there just enough for a shiver and a moan. for the quick thoughtless rutting of your hips, squeezing against his cock, steeping him in a wet heat that left a terrible aching in his balls. he wanted to fuck you madly, suffer you to take him in his fullness till neither word nor thought could ever exist long enough to leave you. he wanted to consume you, enough that you would not forget him again. but this intimate savoring was too rich for him to just abandon on the account of wanting to run your pussy ragged. he could possibly do that another time, if you would have him. if you would cradle his head like you do now, letting his tongue lead over your skin till it prodded and sucked over your nipples. growing greedy, palming your breast to adore the sensitive skin. if you would have him, he would treat you with his urges, charm your body with anything you wanted. 

your clit pulses, urges a grinding to knock softly against his hard body. and the insatiable need teeming in your blood is nearly unbelievable. never having felt so wanton and filled with desire. 

his lips gentle still and unchallenging as they meet yours again. unhurried but sure. like he'd kissed you a thousand times. 

your eyes flutter open. forehead resting against his. and when the earthy brown of his stare burns into you, the familiarity of him burdens your spirit so. a deep, undefiled pressure that flutters your heart. 

the grainy sand of a summer beach and bright bursting laughter. 

your thumb caresses the freckles at his cheeks. "i know your face". thumbing over his mouth. "your tongue. your hands. your eyes". 

he sinks further into the couch, lets his head rest against the arm of it. pulls you into him. "where from?"

his inky hair, long undone in the midst of passion, falling about him. his gentle kissing mouth and his hands. his penchant for whiskey drinking and the unforgettable way he feels, filled to the hilt. 

"from dreams". 

he hums, indulging the thought. collects your hips with a covetous touch. torturing the dulling ache in your clit to flare with a renewed sense of life, fingers curling in to work your pussy over him, stroking up to meet you with a tenderness that reddens his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

his words a gruff escaping. 

"how can you dream about a man you don't know?" 

the drool of your heat coats him with its own spirit of endearment. dribbles out till its slicking over the tuft of hair just where you meet him. your teeth taking to your lips, a feverish excitement lacing your pleasure still, beautifully undone, and becoming undone still at the splitting stretch of his dick. you slur even in your delirium, assailing the leather of your couch's arm as you bounce against him. knees bent and thighs aching, but still, he opens you fully, feeds into you like he belongs there. 

you stitch words together drunkenly. 

"how can you... how can you kiss a woman, fuckk!..kiss her so lovingly, when you've never met her". your teeth clench. touch playing over the dampness of your skin. a taut nipple caught over your thumb, encouraging the pulsing warmth that greedily clings to him. "why would you want to do that?" 

and if he had a heartbeat, it would burst with a raging. leave a vicious pounding into the ways of his pulse at the utterance of such a question. if only you knew. 

"your dreams are just desires. they'll pass". 

"and when they don't?"

you fight. for answers that don't leave a bitterness on your tongue. for his touch to become this great staining. a deep enough stitching beneath flesh and bone. 

"they will". 

you voice small. near fearful. "i don't believe you". 

roman corrals you. faster than the air can refill your lungs from such an abrupt shifting. laying under him, heavy breathed and trembling, your shoulder blades resting over the arm of the couch. his eyes splitting into your skin, roaming, as always, as if to remember for the sake of forgetting, this soft surgical tearing through till you can feel the influence of him. a stuttering in your heart. fear and excitement one and the same. and when his cock ruts, slipping in wet and nearly unforgiving, you gasp into still thick air. his body hard and fluid, hips working deft, tongue running over the ways of his teeth. 

his palms form over your thighs, pressing in to curl at the pliant flesh. 

his heavy breaths take in the scent of you. sticky arousal and the tempting sweetness of your blood. he groans, fucks into your pussy with a toppling desperation. 

his hair falls over him. raven colored and silky. his stitching together of words slurring. pleasure mounting his bones. taken by the dripping clutch you've suffered him to endure. but he's taken freely. gladly even. 

"what do you want?".

his eyes glazing over. and you reach to nail your fingers over him. over taut tough muscle. a harsh prickling that feels delicious in his skin. 

roman feels alive. like he could do anything. could give you anything.

thrill in your eyes and the heat in your skin, moaning beautiful, and if not for his deadness, it would surely be fatal. your lips now rouge-less, but addictive all the same. he wants to consume you. 

"you". nothing more sure could ever be said. "i want you". 

he grows faint in his control. words near a whisper. 

"you don't know what you're asking for". 

a breeze indulges the room. cuts into the thick air. 

"please". 

your body seizes. bursts hot and wild. and here he growls, dark and unbound from control. 

red flecks spot his eyes, his breath oddly warm as he lowers his lips to kiss yours. tongue sweeping in, rough and rolling over. 

your body preens, hitching and pulsing still. his nose nestling into where he can feel the beating of blood along your neck.

you sigh. content. arching your body into the weight of him. 

a paining tear into your skin. sharp teeth into delicate supple flesh. blood slips over onto already tainted leather and the wide flat licking of his tongue. he moans, drunk, weighted against the abrupt shock of your body. drinking in the fast drip of red as he comes undone.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns smut #very very very slight supernatural elements #joannasteez

[fruit-salad-ship]

Oh oh does dragon Peach have the standard hoard of gold and gems or does she keep other things?

Peach goes to great lengths to prove dragons are not the way the books describe. She doesnt just randomly eat people, she's not fussed by fighting knights,not driven by rage or the need to destroy, she takes what she needs food wise and hunts in areas where theres a lot of one thing like deer or boar. A creature of balance, not nearly as menacing as people assume. When plum asks about kidnapping princesses, Peach responds that not all dragons do that either, and often its because they adorn these humans with such shiny trinkets dragons are drawn to them. So plum prods a bit. 'so...you do like to hoard gems and gold then?' Peach eyes her for a moment, looks away. 'No. Not all of us do that.' Later, irked that this supposed monster is so well behaved and functional, not at all like the stories, she noticed Peach slip away from the house, and decides maybe it'd shed some light on a more dragon-y habit. She sneaks behind and sees Peach now in her more comfortable full dragon form cautiously exit the swamp, finding a close by fallen tree, old and large, tucking up wings tight, almost crawling and slipping underneath it, entering a hollow beneath. Plum has to follow, has to know what she's doing. For her the entrance is easy enough to manouver, dropping into a cave, clearly dug out over time. The tunnel is small but leads along a dark path, she has a hand on the wall, stumbling her way down to follow a warm light ahead, where theres suddenly quite the change in scenery.

The cave opens out into a glimmering, glistening gold laden den, all surfaces dripping with anything that shines. Sconces and a large ornate light fitting have been lit, dragon fire, it smells different to normal flames, and in the mountain, rolling around in the clinking shiny trinkets, her supposed 'not at all dragon-y' dragon companion. There is great joy in this behaviour, she's genuinly happy to be here, a little secret she thought she could keep. Peach stops moving, the sound of falling metals subsiding, sliding her huge body to the bottom of a pile with ease, suddenly hearing breathing, smelling human. She opens her eyes still upside down and comes face to face with plum, smug look on her face.

'Not all of you huh?' A quiet second ticks by, peach figuring out what to do, as a dragon, she cannot speak, choosing to simply huff.

She'd been caught out.

Y'all know she'd find the finest things for Plum to try on tho. Maybe it's one "princess" she'd be tempted to steal away in all that glittery finery.

#i considered giving her a different hoard but i like the idea that its the one traditional dragon trait she has #the rest are long gone #fruit salad #dragon au #brainrot

[lunarifie]

Rewatching Ninjago

(With no context other than the episode)

Sons of Garmadon episode 5-6

FIGHT SCENE FIGHT SCENE

Mr E: (Cracks his neck)

Zane: Are you the quiet one??? ARE YOU THE QUIET ONE

Omg I forgot Zane used a bow and arrow for a while.

I love his fighting style, and weapons.

I like how we only see Zane fight seriously when its with other nindroids and powerful villains.

Because, you know, hes made out of titanium.

This scenes so cool. No joke, just Zane and this guy fist fighting it out as Zane screams for answers.

It just feels so real

Zane (sparking and injured): You dont have to do this….

Mr E: (kicks him off the cliff)

WHAT

NO.

the way Zane was so quiet, so pleading and understanding

I hate this

I remember seeing a post that says the animators were allowed to put more injuries on Zane since hes a robot and there wouldnt be as much gore.

Which is so true, because theres a huge gash on Zanes face and the only thing thats showing is wires.

Like imagine that sort of injury on the other ninja. Blood would be flowing.

DID ZANE JUST DIE!?!!?!?

HE LIKE, POWERED DOWN, HIS EYES WENT DULL.

I hated that so much he looked like he really died.

Stop. What is Mr. E putting in Zanes chest. Istg if thats a tracker im going to shit myself.

STOOOP. 😭😭😭 THE CAMERA PANNING OUT FROM ZANES BODY TO SHOW IT ALL CUT UP AND SCUFFED.

Even the intro music changed…

God, all of them finding Zane like that. They sound so scared.

THEY HAVE A GURNEY FOR SITUATIONS LIKE THIS?!?!?!? HOW MANY TIMES HAS THIS HAPPENED????

The transition from the bright spotlight to the doctor/mechanic lights was so good

Jesus christ Zanes in actual bad shape. Like actually. This is what would happen if one of the other ninja got hurt this bad. Zanes in a coma and its up to him to get better and wake up.

This is scary I dont like this 😭

It makes you think. That whole fight and falling off a cliff probably hurt a LOT

Wait so theyre LEAVING ninjago city? As in abandoning everything? I mean, thats the right move, but thats just crazy to me. Its been so long since theyve been outside of ninjago.

Baby Wu: WAAAAAAA

Jay: Maybe hes thirsty! Give him some milk!

Cole (handing Wu to Kai): I tried that! He doesnt like milk!

Jay: WHAT ELSE DO BABIES DRINK?!?!?

Kai (handing baby Wu to Jay): Dont ask me! Ask him!

Cole: HES A BABY. HE HASNT LEARNED HOW TO TALK YET.

Jay (handing Wu to Cole): Oh! maybe he needs a diaper change!!!

Cole (holding Wu as if he has a disease): ohmygosh, DO WE EVEN HAVE DIAPERS?!?!?

Lloyd: We’re NINJA, WE DONT NEED DIAPERS.

Jay: What if we used one of our hoods!

Kai: NOT MY HOOD!!!

HFDJFFJJDNNGNDGNLMAOOO

i love them all sm

Theyre all idiots

THEYRE TRYING TO DRAW STRAWS 😭😭😭

I love how Harumi is the one calming baby Wu down with a lullaby. Now we know she probably did this so if she ever needed to steal Wu he’d be comfortable going with her.

The fact that Harumi and Lloyd are comforting each other on their parents makes me so sad

She obviously asked him just so she could know more about Garmadon.

UHHH DID HARUMI JUST GO FOR A KISS??????

Lloyd: Uh! I um, better go see, uh. I have to go. That way.

AWWWW HES SO AWKWARD 😭 LOOK AT HIS LITTLE AWKWARD WALK.

Ok I get that Lloyd fell first, (which I like to pretend never happened) but if Harumis whole thing is becoming Garmadons daughter. Why is she making moves ON HIS SON. like thats so weird 😭

I get it tho, shes probably trying to gain his trust, and if they were involved, that realization would probably hurt a lot more.

Cole (watching over baby wu): awwww

Baby Wu: Wa… wa… WAAAAAA

Cole: no no no please dont cry!!! I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE. haha! Look at me! Hey! Lala! See, im not crying!

Baby Wu: WAAAA

Cole: Ughhhh FINE. but this is between you and me. 😒

Cole: shine little glow worm glimmer glimmer. Dont get dimmer dimmer

AWWWWW cole is so cute with kids

My favs for this season are definitely him and Lloyd.

THE BLANKY.

Pls tell me it has Wus name on it and thats why Cole gasped

Jay: Woaah… look at that storm!

Nya (navigating the ship): You know, there was an ancient tribe in ninjago that worshipped a storm spirit called Wohira.

Yayayayay Nya and Jay time :)

I love them sm and small moments with them are so cute

Look at Jay listen to his girlfriend infodump 🥺

Nya: They believed Wohira protected them.

Jay: Wohira? Haha thats silly.

(Storm crackles and shakes the ship)

Jay: AAA NOT SO SILLY ANYMORE

Just googled what who wohira is and apparently its woJira.

“Wojira (also known as the Sleeper in the Deep, the Great Serpent, or the Mighty Serpent of the Wave and the Storm) was a storm spirit in the form of a giant sea serpent. Before time had a name, she used the Amulets of Wojira to rule the seas of Ninjago.”

Huh, I hope Wojira comes up in the show she seems so cool

Ok so the ninja are all gathered up, and they learned that a trap was set from an audio recording Zane took. Ofc that trap is the thing Mr. E placed in Zanes body. But they think they can track the quiet one with the recording.

Its so funny to think that rn Harumi is probably shitting herself. She looks so scared 😭

Pixal: We need to go under the storm, its interfering with my signal and i cant trace the recording

Harumi: UM! wont we be spotted if we go under the storm 😀 we’ll be seen by the sons of garmadon!

Lloyd: Harumis right.

GODDAMMIT

Jay: So where do we go?

Cole (barges in holding a map): HERE! it was with the baby the whole time!

Ohhhh so the blankey was a maaaap

Kai: I dont get it? Why was the baby wrapped in a map?

Cole: I dont know, maybe they didnt have any diapers either.

Harumi (sick of their bullshit): THIS, part here looks like it can be the central part of ninjago 😀

Which in harumi translation is: hurry the FUCK up and stop MESSING AROUND so we can find the MASK.

Jay(trying to stab his meatball): Haha! Come here you little sucker!

Jay: (stabs kai)

Everyone:

Cole: (covers baby Wus eyes)

Jay: I… am so sorry….

Kai: Dont. Just dont.

Uhhhhh zane?

Holy shit holy shit holy shit

What THE FUCK is that

IS THAT THE TRAP SET BY MR E?!?!?!?!?

I THOUGHT IT WAS A FUCKING TRACKER NOT A MECHANIC SPIDER WTFFFF

It looks so creepy i hate it

It reminds me of coralines other-mothers hand.

The way it walks against the floor ughhh

i hate it so much

Nya: What are you feeding him?

Cole(feeding baby wu): tea!

Nya: WHAT?!? you cant feed a baby tea!?!?

Cole: He wont drink anything else!

Ooooo the lights went out….

Awww the way they abandoned everything to see if Zane was okay 🥺

Lmaoo Harumi going back for the map

God this is actually so scary, the background music was perfectly picked for this scene.

Pixal sounds so scared and frantic :(

Wait so they lost control of the WHOLE ship?!?!?

Cole: Samurai X is on their way? They must be here to help!

Wait so Pixal transferred herself to samurai x already?

Pixal: Im afraid that is unlikely…

Wait what

Pixal: Because my system is overrun…

Kai: Youre making no sense Pix.

Pixal: Now… would be a good time to make a minor confession.

Pixal: I am Samurai x…

Ohhh so shes overrun. so someones controlling her body!?!?!?

Everyone:

Cole: Are you serious???

Nya: How is that possible?!?!

Jay: Totally called it!

Cole: You did NOT

Jay: Did too!

(explodes the fucking air thruster)

Istg if they destroy the destinys bounty AGAIN-

Awwww Cole cares sm about the baby 🥺

Jay redirecting literal solid lightning is crazy to me

AND KAI MAKING A FIREBALL TO LIGHT THE SKY?!?!?

Lloyd: Harumi! Take this! (Hands her a sword)

Harumi: But I don’t know how to fight 🥺

Omfg

I hate that Nya is the one stuck looking for that disgusting ass metal spider

UGHHH I HATE THE SQUEAKING AND SQUERLCHING NOISES IT MAKES

NOT THE SPIDER CLIMBING ON ZANE

STOP DID IT JUST JUMP AT HER?!?!?

okay but who is controlling Samurai x specifically. Is it Mr E?

Im gonna be forever confused by the small things Harumi does, like saving Lloyd when he could have easily died and no one would suspect anything.

Aaaa so she was ‘kidnapped’ by Samurai x.

STOP NOT LLOYD JUMPING AFTER HER IN THE STORM.

LLOYD PLS

Jay: He did not just?!?

Kai: He just did!!!

Hfjdntdjnsn

Lloyd: Pixal stop this!

Samurai x: There is no pixal, only the quiet one.

Okay thats actually so smart though. With Harumi right there too.

Lloyd: (stabs the suit)

Samurai x: (ejects from the suit landing on the ship.)

Lloyd: I did not think this through…

NCJDNGJDJT

Harumi: We’re gonna…

Lloyd: Were not gonna die! You hear me?!?!

Harumi: The map! Maybe we can use it as a parachute!

Lloyd: WHAT IS THIS?!?!? A CARTOON?!?!?

LMAOOONFISNGJDNDNS

Lloyd (puts harumi in the samurai x suit): the suit should break your fall!

Harumi: What about you?!?!?

Lloyd: sorry only room for one…

Harumi: NO I NEED YOU!!!

This scene would have been so dramatic and touching if Harumi wasnt who she was 😭

Also the ‘I NEED YOU’ makes me wonder if Lloyds a part of her plan. Like she actually needs him for everything to work.

Lloyd: And I need that map.

HE ACTUALLY USED IT AS A PARACHUTE

Harumi was probably so pissed at that moment as she crashed in the suit and Lloyd swung down.

Nya (getting strangled by a spider): AAAAAAA

(A spear stabs the spider with perfect aim)

Zane: what in the name of ninjago is happening around here???

ZANE❤️

We missed you 🥺

Pixals back!!!!

Samurai x: (throws sword at the last air thruster)

Pixal: (Back online.)

Pixal as samurai x: (watches as her body throws the sword into the air thruster just a little too late)

God that must suck for her. To imagine your seconds late to having saved them all.

Everyone: (holding onto the ship as it goes down)

Jay: She got the last thruster!

Kai: Any ideas!?

Zane: Not one!

Kai: Yeah me neither…

Jay: PRAY TO WOJIRA!

Nya: That is NOT helpful!

HFJDJFNF I love them all

Zane: Maybe we can create enough drag with the sails!

Kai: WHAT SAILS!!?!?

(Their sails completely destroyed)

Zane: 😶

Wait wait wait okay Jay might be onto something

Jay: The rain! It could slow our fall!

YES NYA YES USE YOUR AWESOME FUCKING POWERS!!!

JUST LIKE THE VERY FIRST TIME, SHE WAS TAUGHT TO CHANGE THE WATER FLOW TO RUN UP

I LOVE THIS SHOW SM

this is actually so cool

Like the way the rain is going under and hitting the bottom of the ship.

Nyas such a girlboss

WAIT BABY WU

Good job Cole, like honestly. If he hadn’t gone straight for the baby. Wu would probably be dead, A baby would not have survived that impact.

Awwww Jay helping Nya up.

The forest they landed in is actually gorgeous

Pixal: Zane?

AAAAAAA

THEIR REUNION

Pixal: I needed to keep my identity a secret, to protect the ones I care about…

Zane: You dont need to lie to me, you didnt like being stuck in my head :)

Pixal: that too. ☺️

AWWWWWWW he knows her so well 🥹

Kai: Wheres Lloyd and Harumi?

Oh god theyre alone.

AND NOW THEYRE RUNNING FROM A DINOSAUR????

Omfg and to think its that stupid ‘extinct’ one that was in the episode that had Lloyd magically age up

Pixal and Zane are genuinely so cute

awwwww Cole with baby Wu :)

Cole: What do you think the babies name is?You think he’s a Cole jr?

Ik ppl say that the show writers kinda just threw Jays inventing quirk away which makes me rlly sad but its nice to see that they sometimes show him fixing stuff, like the crashed bounty.

The dinosaur: RAAAAAAH

Cole: …what do you think that was…?

Kai: Probably just some cute little critter?

Jay: Or a big critter… A great big vicious critter with lots of teeth and claws and pinchers—

Cole: You cant tell all of that from how it sounds 🙄

WAIT THE THRUSTERS WORKING?!?!?

nvm lol

Jfjebfjdnf wish I could screenshot on netflix, Jays covered in soot and id love to draw him

AWWW ZANES GIGGLES SO CUTE

Jay: IVE HAD IT. FIRST WE CRASH LAND IN WHO KNOWS WHERE AND NOW ARE SURROUNDED BY WHO KNOWS WHAT

Cole: Look on the bright side! Cole jrs okay! so you can change his diaper.

Jay: ha. Ha. Ha, hilarious.

GOD NYAS SO COOL

She looks awesome in her samurai x mech

Pixal: My suit! I mean— your suit.

Nya: Its okay Pixal, its yours now :)

AWWW I LOVE THEM

lloyds actually super smart to put a note on the mech

Aaand the sons of garmadon are coming

Keep forgetting the place theyre in is Primevals eye.

Harumi: I didnt imagine myself here.. But, Ive always dreamed of being with you 🥺

That was cringy as shit thats when you know shes overdoing it 💀

oooo now theyre on their way to Stranglers Path

Lloyd: Naaah, the name doesnt mean anything. Just some bored map maker— (Gets fucking snatched)

HOLY SHIT IS THE TREE GONNA EAT HIM?!?!?!!?

Omfg I hate that Harumis sword throw was actually so cool

Also why does she keep saving him when its most convenient to just let him die?

Like, she had the map, she had the sword, she couldve continued on.

Im assuming the “i need you” scream she did when they were falling to their deaths has smth to do with her plan.

Lloyds voice actor is actually really good

Lloyd: How did you learn to throw a sword like that?!?!

Harumi trying to cover her ass: I- I dont know! I just saw you in trouble and I… I guess it was luck

Lloyd: LUCK?!?!? That wasnt just LUCK! That was—

Harumi: (kisses him on the cheek)

SHE ACTUALLY KISSES HIM

I THOUGHT THERE WERE ONLY ROMANTIC IMPLICATIONS NOT AN ACTUAL KISS

im gonna kms

Zane and Pixal working together inside the bounty is so cute

Maybe I shouldnt kms

Zane: Is it working?

Pixal: No.

Zane: How about now?

Pixal: NO.

Zane:…

Zane: I detect frustration from you, yet that emotion is not needed for this task? Is something wrong?

Pixal: No…

Pixal:…

Pixal: Yes.

I love how Zane acts all calculating and ‘different’ than an ‘average’ human, which ppl would usually chart it up to him being a robot.

But then we have Pixal, a whole nother example and she acts just like everyone else 😭

I love how thats just how Zane is

AWWW I FORGOT PIXAL HAS HALF OF ZANES HEART/LIFE SOURCE

Pixal: Was i more useful in the computer…?

Pixal: I like having a body, but if I was more useful in the computer…

Zane: The choice was always yours pixal. And I for one, like seeing you like this.

AWWWWWWWWW

i love robot love

The way they just went back to working 🥺

The levitation oni mask is genuinely awesome. And the way it looks like it has no drawbacks. Amazing.

I dislike the ninja talking about Lloyd having the hots for the princess VERY much

Cole: Pliers.

Kai: Pliers?

Jay: I dont have the pliers! (Someone hands it to him) oh, why thank you!

Baby Wu: (walking with two legs)

Jay:

Jay: hehe, COLE. I thought you put the baby down for a nap.

Cole: you mean little Cole jr? Yeah i did, but he was a little restless.

Jay: Uh huh yeah. Then why is little Cole jr standing in front of me and PASSING ME THE PLIERS.

LMAOOOO

the way they all ran

Cole: Im no expert… but do babies do that?

Kai: No. No they do not. And they also dont know what pliers are.

I keep forgetting that Kai like, RAISED Nya, so he definitely knows all this stuff.

Baby wu: (grabs a hot cup of tea and blows it)

Kai: And they DEFINITELY dont do that.

HFNDKFNDJDNFNR

Jay: Okay! Now ive seen it all! Now i REALLY quit!!!

Baby wu: aaaa. Ninja neva quit.

Everyone:

HFNDNGNDJNFT I KNEW IT WAS THIS EPISODE THE MINUTE HE GOT TWO LEGS

Harumi: AAAA (screaming at the sons of garmadon insignia)

Shes such a good actor i hate her 😭

Ohhh i forgot Lloyd and Harumi find a boat and like ride it or smth

Harumis giggle is so cute ☹️

I think Harumis trying to recruit Lloyd, which is why shes saving him and manipulating him. If she plans on keeping him long-term thats the only reason I can think of.

Harumi: Garmadon wasnt the greatest villain…

Lloyd: Oh, no? You probably grew up thinking it was Morro, or the devourer. Wait, don’t tell me. Pythor!

Harumis probably thinking ‘this bitch’

Harumi: no. Its the one you never even knew was there in the first place. The one who gets away.

Lloyd: The quiet one…

Okay this scenes actually really creepy when you know

I love how skeptical Nya is until Wu says his catchphrases

Nya: But how did he get so… Young?

Jay: Haha! Who knows! Hes a living fortune cookie. Everything he does is a puzzle MEANT TO TORTURE US.

Jays got his facts straight

Ohhh okay so it was the reversal blade that made Wu young, got it.

I love how the animation makes this feel like a new show but they always tie things back together.

Jay: But when is he going back to good old Wu?

Jay to the baby: No offense, you look good for your age.

hes so funny

Ughhh the sons of garmadon

Why am I pretending I dont like them I actually genuinely like their characters 😭

HELL YEAH! THE BOUNTYS FIXED

Cole: Let us take care of this wu, you looked after us, let us look after you.

I mean honestly, Wu didnt do much ‘taking care’ of you guys

I love when the ninja bicker in fight scenes

Okay but Lloyd is genuinely smart, the way he noticed there were no rocks and had Harumi stop the boat.

I hate that Harumis so cute, i hate that she has a nice singing voice, i hate that shes such a girlboss gaslighter

And i hate that theres a giant fucking dinosaur fish in the river 💀

ITS A FUCKING CRAB WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?

Theyre gonna be pulled to a waterfall by the current

Knew it.

Nya: Look! The signal to search for the quiet one is working! But thats weird, it says it originated from the bounty…

Kai: but thats impossible…

Zane: The only ones on the ship were us, Pixal, and…

Everyone:

Nya: Harumis the quiet one.

THATS HOW THATS REVEALED,!?!?!?

OKAY BUT THATS ACTUALLY SO GOOD. THEY DEMOLISHED THE ‘VILLAIN REVEALS THEMSELVES’ TROPE AND ALLOWS THE HEROES TO USE THEIR INTELLIGENCE. STILL LEAVING STUFF AT STAKE WITH ANOTHER CHARACTER STILL UNAWARE

Zane: We must warn Lloyd!

Ultra Violet: I wouldnt do that if I were you…

OMFG.

Love the ninja protecting their friends. Cole was holding baby wu and Jay jumped in to save them 🥺

I love crowd fight scenes. Just the heroes having to fight off groups of henchmen

Aaaand they lost.

And Lloyds with Harumi.

This is so great.

They made it to the temple with the mask 😐

OKAY NOOOOW THEY SHOW HARUMIS EVIL MISCHIEVOUS FACE

#ninjago #lego ninjago #Rewatching Ninjago

[akamikazae]

Your most recent drawing of Akami, Kakashi and Sasuke is so cute! Love Akami’s outfit!! She looks great in the hues of the Sharingan

Out of curiosity, do Akami’s eyes glow in the dark? As far as I am aware, most reptiles don’t have tapetum lucidum so I assume she would not but I am very curious about her snake resembling ocular design! (I can’t help but say again I love Akami’s design)

Also since she has vertical pupils would they expand (atleast slightly more) in the dark, or perhaps depending her emotional state?

I am by no means an animal expert nor any form of expert in this context XD just an admirer for all the effort and talent you gifted us with!

Thank you for sharing your work with us! It brightens my day :)

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! <33 I just love her complexion in red!! And maybe to match a certain someones vibrant red eye lol I always thought snakes were cool from like an aesthetic pov. But when I made Akami I dug more into them, because I love an excuse to do research, so my very long-winded answer is under the cut

I don’t think they necessarily glow, they way a gators would. Snakes' level of vision varies species to species, and when they tend to hunt, snakes that hunt at night have a little lens that will let more UV light in so they can see better in the dark/low-lighting. I like to think that Akami has that lil lens, so it would probably pick up light a bit better than a human eye would in the dark, so because of that I do try to make em' shine a bit when I draw/write about them. So no lol.

But also it depended who you’d ask . If you asked Kakashi or Sasuke or Gai they’d tell you they were the most beautiful pair of glimmering eyes you'd ever seen . If you asked someone like Tenzo or Genma they’d say her, and her eyes were kinda creepy lol

Orochimaru’s eyes are a bit more of a yellow/green compared to Akami’s, hers are a bit warmer, because her mother's eyes were a soft brown. But I like to think that they do shift colors a bit depending on her mood/mental state. 

There's a type of snake called a ‘mock viper’ that will typically have a more rounded, fuller pupil but when it feels threathened the pupil contracts to become more slitted and scare off predators. So Akami’s pupils would react similarly. Though hers are slitted all the time—if she was very angry, upset, feels threatened they contract like a sharp razor straight line.  And on the other hand if Sasuke were to do something very cute and sweet I imagine they’ll expand and fill out a bit more too--because she loves that lil baby with all her heart. 

But mainly they look a lil glowy because I just think they’re neat! And with all the fancy dojutsu in naruto I thought it would be cool that she had fun eyes—even though theres no real power behind them.

thank you thank you for your very kind ask---I could ramble about my Kami all day lol! it is very sweet of you to say, and I am honored my lil doodles can brighten anyone's day<33 --you give me far too much credit my sweet anon

take care !

-🐍

#ask #oc: akami #akami ketseuki #orochimaru #kaz blabs #v kind anon<3 #excuse the typos #my dyslexia is showing

[meili-sheep]

ONE MORE!!! ONE MORE WORK AND IM FINISHED!!!!1

Also yes i agree with the Jean slander but there must've been a source of why she's like,,,, That.

you know, Jean "I take up all the paperwork the knights have and then complain about being overworked even though i put it on myself" Gunnhildr.

Fredrica Gunnhildr.

it makes sense right??? because it seems the Gunnhildrs are the opposite of a patriarchy aka a matriarchy and so that phrase "All for Mond" or something has definitely been drilled into Jean's head since she was young because shes the eldest, i also think Barbara is an unexpected child because due to their likely age gap- around 20 and maybe 14-16, which is 6-4 years, probable time for unexpected births, my little sister is only 4-5 years younger and she was unplanned so yes very likely Barbara was unexpected.

And i really dont think Fredrica was a good mom... just look at Jean! She overworks herself constantly and is probably ready to throw her own life away for Mondstadt at any given moment and theres Barbara feeling inferior to Jean and doubts any ability of hers that doesnt make others happy

And Barbara may have been pushed aside by Fredrica because of her focus on Jean instead and so thats most likely why Barbara feels so much lesser than Jean. And I also think that to make really complex shapes with a catalyst is a high skilled thing, it wouldn't seem much on the surface but Barbara's attack particles Glimmer

To achieve that effect she must've had to practice how to make the water she produces from her vision to refract light in such a way that it changes color, sure it may just be a gameplay thing but at the same time its too deliberate and fits her job as an idol so yes im taking that to account.

sure she may be weak in lore but because of her inferiority complex where she most likely pushes down her skills in fighting and defense and such for healing because to her, her healing is more benificial that those other things.

I also have a Genshin oc! His name is Anatoli

to explain more, in my au's, Abyss Barbara and The Pegg twins aus. Anatoli is Barbara's younger twin brother made him to add to the Jean and Barbara's distanced relationship issue

sorry if this has almost all have been about Barbara

I do have a part about diluc tho

Barbara and Anatoli wouldve sought comfort in Diluc due to their situation(emotional neglect basically) and they see a big sibling figure in Diluc, not as a replacement for jean but for the comfort and love they werent really given because barbara and anatoli were both ignored much more

btw Anatoli is his chosen name, no he(sadly) isnt trans its more of a Fischl situation bc he was named Anne at birth even though he was a boy and he got the name Anatoli via suggestion of Barbara during a trip to Snezhnaya

i might explain more abt Anatoli next time

-Leyline!Anon whos very clearly a Barbara kinnie 9and also wants to castrate Albert)

Well let me say the netiher Fredrica Gunnhildr or Seamus Pegg was a good parnet. And well I think Jean does have her problems from that. She still has agency as a person and her dicisous to continue to support the knights after all they did to Diluc is totally on her.

And not making time to be with her sister is also on her. And jean not doing anything to help Barbara feel that there isn't a competition between them is also on her.

Well Barbara isn't my favorite characters (I might have been a little more warm had they kept her original voice) But I do really sympathize with her.

Oh your OC is very Cute though! And very interesting!

#Leyline!Anon #i've been thinking about a fatui OC #recently #but yea #Very neat #barbara pegg #barbara #barbara headcanons

[eliias-bouchard]

which ones most embody each of the fears from the magnus archives

hmm im gonna just assign them fears under the cut cus i have a lot of ocs

solace group

a glimmer of seasalt - lonely. she's too far away from anyone to be on the main communication network, so fox has to forward any messages to her, and after communications broke down she was just alone.

three tears of a fox - corruption. this girl is Literally infested. she is Literally rotting. very corruptioncore

rising birds - mmmm very tentative hunt, maybe end. ive mentioned before that her whole thing is trying to figure out how to kill iterators so that she can protect people so. yeah

stormclouds overhead - eye? maybe? during his collapse he lost lots of memory so he's using. basically feral cats as librarians to rebuild his memory. thats decently eye

cold water rushing - stranger methinks but possibly spiral. its name is a pseudonym and it hides its face i couldnt make it more stranger w/o making it an actual clown

seven crowns of bone - buried. my guy literally got eaten by a sinkhole

chorus group

collector of caged kismet - vast! he's trying to get a slugcat to go down to the void sea and then come back up which like. can you even get more vast

bells of other ballads - very tentatively flesh. she's trying to train a slugcat to be an engineer to repair iterators, and iterators are biomechanical, so i guess flesh?

caught under null thorns - im gonna be real i have no idea what CUNT is like. no assignment because of lack of personality

forgoing all glory - honestly very difficult. extinction is the closest. FAG was built to be self repairing to a fault, and designed to be an everlasting monument to the ancients, so that he'd stick around Literally Forever. which is kinda vast now that i think about him but him and his mindset is closer to extinction/end/desolation

does your kin endure - uhhhh. im giving her an honorary potential dark/desolation alignment im gonna be honest i havent thought much about her either

to reinvent as new, not yours - flesh baby!! literally a trans surgery machine, flesh as hell

69 weed leaves - corruption? hes pretty much falling apart and theres plants and shit in his machinery which is pretty corruption

equinox group (+ winters group which are technically separate)

no peaceful ending - end. no question. she died, she came back wrong, oliver banks is high fiving her as we speak

fibres of silence - im honestly gonna say slaughter. silence is VERY mad for what winter did to peace. if not slaughter then lonely

hallows of fate, damned - uhhhhhh. buried? maybe? in the sense of more metaphorical pressure. fate has very bad imposter syndrome stemming from one Really bad fuckup that ended up harming a lot of his colony, so i guess i could see her being buried.

glowing wind between speckled trees - she's probably kind of like adelard dekker or mikaele salesa in that she interacts with the entities without being bound to any of them. my girl just cares about tea. if i really really had to, maybe eye

dappled light over decaying leaves - web or eye. i dont know how just yet but this girl knows things she is not supposed to

winters group

awakening winter - web. no doubt. this man manipulates other people to his own end so much. hes also got some desolation/hunt spice in there from all the killings and ruination

nebula of snow eternal - hmm. end? possibly desolation. he was winter's first victim, and he collapsed and was literally crushed by his can (similar to how peace was) so. yeah

cycles within cycles - end! this guy was a sliverist, meaning that he believed death was the means to ascension. trying to stop winter was a win-win scenario for him; either he stops winter, or winter kills him (thus ascending him). he gave no shits

revent chorus, the silence calls - slaughter slaughter slaughter slaughter my guy went mad and started killing for as of yet unknown reasons. slaughter as hell

#my rw ocs #im Not tagging all of them #answered asks #i swear i had a mutuals tag lying around here somewhere #snowstorm local group #<- i dont think thats their final name (winter's local group) but i need a tag for em #equinox local group #chorus local group #solace local group

[celestialcomedy]

What does your muse think is my muse’s most attractive feature?

@gonnachasethestars​:

"Definitely your eyes. It's like you have an entire galaxy in them."

“ Oh? Maybe its from the galaxy I was from, a souvenir ~” 

A soft and light chuckle escapes the maskless Jester. Slightly hiding his face with his hair with the action. If Kounosuke believes theres a entire galaxy in Jesters eyes then the rest of him is Space. Each light twinkling and glimmering against the midnight sky of Jesters form. 

#gonnachasethestars #[ pretty eyes jester strikes again! ] #[ though now im wondering what would his reaction be if seeing cosmic horror jester? since he has no eyes :o ]

[staceybombacey]

#mondays #it wasnt stress free #there was still moments i had to breathe so i didnt cry #my heart still feels like it resides in my stomach #but maybe theres a glimmer of light #in what feels like the longest darkest tunnel #selfie #smiles #personal

[kio-may]

Part 3 ー The Sky Darkened

----

Maleficent!AU Malleus x reader

A/n: aaaahhhhhhhhhh hope yall like this one 😎👍 its like 1.2k words

Also the timeline is kinda chopped up theres flashbacks theres future backs theres everything thats set in a certain way so like read til the end before saying anythinf 😭 u will understand it better then

also, please do send in an ask if you want to be tagged for a specific post. i will soon be making a proper taglist where i mention everyone.

Taglist: @candyk0rn​

-----

He remembers that day.

"There they are!" The gruff voice boomed through the dry grasslands, grey and soft clouds covering the sky. The grass swayed gently with the cold air. A storm was coming.

"The mysterious Moors, where no one dares to venture!"

His wings stiffened, his eyes widened. This was not your voice. 

"Well I say, crush them!"

He took off, his wings moving swiftly in the now suffocatingly thick, icy air. He landed on a rock, right across the army.

The King's army.

His pupils were slitted, and shone with an ominous, dreadful green color. He glared at the King in disgust,

"Go no further!" He shouted, his voice basically vibrating through their bodies. The King was shaken for a moment. Fae were truly much more different from humans.

"A king," he hesitated, before a foolish and smug grin stretched his wrinkly face, "does not take orders from a winged elf!"

The army laughed, and the air seemed to drop in temperature even more.

"You are no king to me." 

His voice cut through the field, and the laughter quickly turned into hushes and became silent.

"Bring me his head."

A war cry.

--

"My lord?" Red eyes peered from the dark, an unusual ruby like color, that somehow glimmered even in the shadow. "There seems to be a celebration."

Malleus glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "A celebration? Curious." His fingers dragged along an old brick windowsill-like structure, a continuous scratching sound following. He rested his chin on the back of his hand,looking at the sky and sighing deeply. 

The pain on his back still ached.

"Yes there seems to be.." the boy hesitated.

"Yes? Go on." Malleus now played around with green aurora-like flames that delicately balanced on his fingertips, no longer interested in the ugly,grayish-yellow sky.

"There's been a boy. The Queen has had a child."

"Oh" Malleus blinked for a moment. He thought of you. For a moment his chest hurt. He took a deep breath.

Malleus paused for a second, the green flames absorbed into his palm once again, he stared expressionless at his empty palm.

"A grand celebration; for a baby." He said out loud. The boy stepped a bit closer, coming into the little light that slipped in through the rough brick like windowsill. Red, slitted eyes looked expectantly. 

---

"You will not have the Moors! Not now; not ever! You!-"

He flew backwards, a sudden flash of pain stung his skin.

Iron.

The skin promptly healed, but the pain still echoed through his body, dull and unbearable. He stared at the struggling body of the King, as one of the Dark creatures approached his side, the army retreating and distant cries of anguish.

---

It was only a few days later after that. He should've seen it. He should have known better. They're humans, after all; what can you expect?

He never suspected you. A part of him wishes bitterly, that he should have. That he should have turned you away, that he should have never met you, that maybe, just maybe, that day he should have let the guards just kill you instead. 

A different part of him does not wonder. It stays silent, and it pushes down the horrible thoughts he has, it tugs on them violently, ripping and dragging,until they quiet down, like a feral dog left to a wicked hunter.

Like a crow caught in a net.

"Ha! I've got ye!" The man smugly spoke; rather barked, at the crow that helplessly flauntered in the net, desperate to get out. The dog also growled at the crow.

"I'll whack ya-"

"Into a man" a flick of his wrist, and the crow started to enlarge.

The man sputtered and stumbled back, looking in sheer terror at the crow that started to deform and grow, it's "caw"s deepening and its skin stretched as its feathers brittled off what seemed to be its back.

The man ran away with his dog, and the crow- boy, now, pulled the net over his head, staring at his fleshy, new hands in horror. Malleus moved out of the dry tall grass and approached the short boy.

The boy eyed him suspiciously. "What have you done to my beautiful self?"

"Would you rather I let them beat you to death?" Malleus responded, coldly.

"I'm not certain" the boy looked over at his new body.

"Stop complaining. I saved your life."

…

"Forgive me"

"What do I call you?"

"Lilia", he turned to face him directly, "and in return for saving my life, I am your servant."

Malleus simply looked at him expressionless.

"Whatever you need." His ruby eyes lowered in respect.

"Wings." He whispered. "I need you to be my wings."

---

"She did this to me, so she.."

Lilia stood across, his eyes lowered. Of course, he thought. He was the only fae without wings.

A loud, thundering beam of vicious green light roared into the sky, swirling the clouds violently. It flashed across the windows of the castle. Malleus gripped his staff in a death-like grip, his knuckles white. The beam slowly retracted into him again, a bit of the magic gently wavering and trickling around him, greatly contrasting the violent shock that stretched the sky apart a few seconds earlier.

"Now what, my lord?" Lilia's voice was barely above a whisper. 

Malleus turned around and walked towards the heart of the Moors, thundering, dark clouds taking over the sky.

---

"The Queen seems to be sick"

"Oh?" You looked at Sebek, hint of concern in your eyes.

"Of course her highness is being tended to, but.." Sebek was gazing in the distance, lost in thought

Your hand trailed across the Palace walls, bedazzled window frames to sturdy and smooth gaps between them. The weather has been very bad recently, and the windows would sometimes vibrate from harsh gusts of cold air blown at them. You'd suspected a storm was coming, for a few days now, but it only remained the same, constantly teetering on the edge.

"It would be most unfortunate if she were to have gotten a bad case of the flu." You commented.

"No, some of the nurses suspect she's pregnant."

You stopped for a moment, and Sebek stopped beside you. No one else was in the hallway. "She is?" You didn't bother hiding your surprise.

"They suspect so. Some of the castle workers are hoping for some sort of celebration, either when she's announced to be pregnant, or when the child has been given birth".

You turn your eyes away for a moment in thought. A child.

You continued walking ahead, not giving it more thought. Sebek followed close.

---

"They've named him Silver"

The window in your room creaked a bit. The weather had calmed down a bit during the previous 9-10 months, and it was finally safe to open the windows without strong wind sloshing everything around in your room.

You overheard from one of the Palace maidens. The boy had beautiful, aurora colored eyes. Speckles of silver dotted his head, where hair had started to grow. The boy got most of his features from the Queen.

"They- they're going to hold a celebration!" He looked at you, frantically tapping his pockets to check for something, "they invited fairies from the Moors!"

You stilled for a second. It must have been the Queen. Only she may have known about it. Or the King was simply mocking you.

"Yes, Sebek,and we ought to welcome them.", you got up from your chair and walked towards the door, and Sebek followed closely behind as he stumbled on his words. You didn't quite notice the crow on your windowsill, or it's unusual red eyes.

----

#twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst au #my writing #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland malleus #twisted wonderland au #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x you #twst malleus #malleus x reader #malleus #malleus x yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x you #twst x reader #twst x you #twst x y/n #twst x yuu #twst x mc #twst malleus x reader #twst malleus draconia #twst yuu #im going to die #what am i doing #oh god oggod

[g3nosarchive]

titled  ❝ good kisser ❞

✧ pairing leone abbacchio x gn reader 

✧ genre fluff

✧ warning wine, being a tiny bit drunk, mentions of sex but definitely not smut 

✧ extra close friends drink at 1 am and reader gets a lil bold .. abbacchip’s character took me a minute for this is way later then it’s meant to be, finally got a title before having to add it to my masterlist <3 feedback appreciated 

“leone.”

“what?” he doesn’t need to glance at your face to know it’s a question, staring up and out the window to the glimmering web of stars outside.

his almost empty glass of wine reflects the moonlight and you massage your temples.

“are you experienced?”

he takes a moment, a particularly long moment before you see him blink in your peripheral vision, his right eyebrow cocked up.

“experienced with what? sex?”

you laugh, much more naturally than he’d ever thought and shake your head. “not sex, i mean are you experienced?”

“with what,” he sighs, still stuck on the visage of the stars.

“with hmm.. matters of the heart. or love? pursuing? courting. that stuff.”

turning to you slowly, he gives you the most incredulous look you think you’ll ever see in your life. you smile sheepishly as his mouth drops open a tiny bit, and the words ‘mind boggling’ appear in your head.

“are you sure you’re alright in the head? you’re asking if i’m a romantic.”

you laugh into your elbows away from his gaze before looking up to meet him, still shocked and confused.

“yes i’m very aware. i asked my drunk and broody goth friend if he has a sappy romantic history.” he blinks and you laugh a little more, “yes, the one with the potty mouth and the potty tea pots and other clear issues. really nice lips, currently staring at me like i ate his tea pastries with a broken spoon and dipped it in rotting fish flavored gelato.”

he cocks his head slightly to the side, an innocent instinct, confusion and amusement twinkling between blinking lashes.

“you have a very unique way of talking and describing huh.”

“i think you mean.. a different kind of bullshit, but flavorful and easier to tolerate. everyone seems to say something like that after an average of three conversions.”

now he laughs, but not audibly - his shoulders rise with a rare animation and a smile hides beneath his hand, nothing but hushed breaths tumbling out. you lean forward, balancing on your elbow and your chin jutting into your palms, observing him in full, a much free-er abbacchio.

"hey. kiss me.”

his shoulders shudder this time while he chokes not-so-silently on the wine in the back of his throat. your eyes connect and at the sharp twitch of his left eye you laugh just a tiny bit - 

“what? why?”

somewhere in the back of your mind you think it’s cute how his whole body follows your every movement while you shift to rest against the headboard with a sigh of comfort. “you should be asking me how, but i’m a very magnanimous person, so you can choose.” he makes a grunt-ish sound and your eyelids start to droop on their own, closing down on your somewhat magnetizing eyes, and thankfully so he thinks.

maybe the wine’s finally got to you, maybe the darkening of the street lights made you feel a bit drowsier than normal, but now it’s his chance to study your face. your brows are relaxed, and the usual, as slight as it was sometimes, tension gone, the moonlight set upon your lips like a halo...

“kiss me, leone.” he wonders if this is your idea of a joke but it doesn’t matter, third time really was the charm. the harsh clink of a wine glass on the nightstand sets off something in your stomach; dormant butterflies decide that now’s the time to play hopscotch in your belly, delightful, but your heart was pounding like a festival drum, so equally nerve-wracking.

the heavy depression in the bed moves closer, the scent of something that sounds like it’d be named magenta darkwood dances to the tip of your nose and a body of heat settles beside you. the dozy pull on your eyelids go slack with the addition of a sliver of adrenaline, and you pop your eyes open to meet his cloudish blue irises, much closer than you’d expected.

he jumps back, both of you furiously blinking before a hand gingerly covers your eyes.

“i can’t do anything with you staring at me, so..”

the signal in your head to respond with a nod, a hum, or something comes way too late, his scent floats around your face and a calloused delicate pinch on your chin guides your lips to meet his. waves roar in the back of your mind as you sit there, mind promptly turned to mush.

the kiss felt generously sweet and much softer than anything you could manage to think of.

he pushes just a bit firmer, and the tingly buzz from his lips joins the firecrackers going off in your head, a dazzling spectacle if anyone could see, before pulling away and lightly removing his hand from over your eyes. you can’t bring yourself to look up - still processing the feeling of it all  - even as his gaze burns into your face.

a minute passes like this when he shifts to your side, to your surprise, also leaning against the headboard, eyes closed.

“what, now you’re nervous?”

no, that’s not it, you think, padding a finger over the lingering warmth on your lips. i just never expected to be such a soft kiss, especially from you.

“you were the one that had to cover my eyes to actually do it,” he hears you murmur, “but still, i never expected you to do it like that..”

“what do you mean ‘like that’? you didn’t like it or what,” he says, and normally he would be mad, or stony faced, but there’s a tiny curve to his mouth in the corner of your vision.

theres a pause and you blink, warmth pricking your cheeks like a dull needle. “i just never expected you to kiss so gently. that’s all. you look like the type to kiss roughly you know, ‘fierce’ written all over you - bite my lips off and all.”

he’s silent, just listening and very obviously staring and you share a glance for exactly two seconds. 

“...i did like it, if you’re wondering. i don’t think i’ll ever uh, forget it, so don’t worry. plus, you’re a good kisser -”

a dull thump sounds out as he lightly tosses a pillow at your head, his eyes dark but his voice clearly amused. “you think i was worried about that? go to sleep. of course i’m a good kisser. it doesn’t even sound right to question it.”

“don’t pretend like your shoulders didn’t relax until i said it,” you smile, throwing the pillow back at his chest, “and you go to sleep too,” turning over on your side, “and don’t hog the blanket.”

the pillow ends up pushing at your back as he lies down as well, quick to snatch just enough of the comforter to get you to turn around. 

“what?”

“goodnight.”

for the at least 7th time that night you share a deep look before turning around, returning the same word and pulling a slight bit of the covers away from him. the lights are off and his breathing evens and the sleepy actually starts to encase you in it’s arms - until you’re actually encased with arms, giving a stunned side eye glance back. in his sleep it seemed his hand unknowingly wandered over to your waist, and you didn’t have the heart to move it so you let it be. (truthfully, it was comforting. and who were you to refuse comfort?)

mere seconds later he shifts closer, separated by the pillow but still close enough to feel his body warmth, wrapping his arm tighter around you. 

who was it that said he was asleep.. asleep my ass.. he’s clearly awake you conclude, the deep rumble of a laugh reverberating through the pillow separating you both a dead giveaway.

#abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio #leone abbacchio x reader #abbacchio leone #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #jojo vento aureo #jjba golden wind #jojo abbacchio #jjba fanfic

[dracolucius-abraxusmalfoy]

I would LOVE to read more of the golden trio cuddles, they are so tender💖❤️💖maybe them at grimmauld together?

It gets worse before it gets better.

That is— Grimmauld Place is lovely when it’s just the three of them, and the house, sensing their joy, is joyful too. It is warmer, softer, almost over night. The shifting floorboards and peeling wall paper look brand new, glimmering gilded in the soft late summer evening light that new windows, appearing out of thin air, let into the previous gloomy and lightless interior. All the things that Sirius hated lessen and all the good things, the fond childhood memories he had shared are highlighted. 

Mornings in the kitchen with hot food and hotter coffee— the smell of it permeating the air— the bright sunlight through kitchen sink windows and the French doors that had appeared their third day in the house after Harry’s casual mentioning of their historical presence and currant absence. 

Cozy evenings in front of the crackling parlour fire place, the faint sounds of tripping classical piano echoing through the room (Harry swears, sometimes, that he can hear Sirius’ voice yelling at Regulus to hush up) and the rustling pages of Hermione’s latest book.

Grimmauld place loves them, and it lets them know it. 

When Harry gets anxious by himself in the kitchen, flashes of war torn safe-houses and the eerie silence of the basement grating his nerves, suddenly Hermione’s tuneless humming can be heard all the way from the third floor library and the clang of the pipes— long silent— resume when Ron is in the shower. A mantle clock, much the same as the one in the burrow, appears one day in the sitting room, has a habit of following Harry through the house when Ron and Hermione are out, clanging obnoxiously each time they change location, and chiming a pretty muggle tune Hermione used to sing them on late nights in the common room whenever they arrive back home. 

It’s wondrously domestic, all of it, but their closeness, once necessitated by the vastness of Hogwarts castle, has lessened in the presence of Grimmauld’s determination to please them. 

Harry once again finds himself alone, even when he can hear their breathing, their heart beats, almost synchronous, from his room across the hall, he is still alone, and he hates it, just a little bit. Hates Grimmauld place for allowing it (he tries to be extra kind to the house in his guilt) and hates them, just a little, for having each other (tries to be extra kind to them in return.)

He does want them. Just not the way they want each other. The closest he has every gotten was Ginny, perhaps, and that had faded quickly in the wake of a coming war, in the aftermath of trauma, and even before, when the novelty of someone wanting him had worn off. Or Draco Malfoy, who he loathes with a vehemence that surprises him, but who he sometimes found himself watching, admiring the glint of white gold hair and silver eyes in Scottish highland sunlight. But he did not want them, not really, not even then. He sometimes thinks he is incapable of it, and so he says nothing and stays silent. 

Ron and Hermione represent a different kind of want. He wants their closeness, their friendship, their ever presentness. He likes when they are his as well as each others, when he can claim them, needs their warm thereness to fall asleep. 

He doesn’t… He knows they are together, as much as they try to keep it to a minimum (he suspects Hermione thinks him jealous— he is not) and he is pleased for them, truly. He just did not expect that the togetherness of the three of them, the smooth triangle forged over the course of eight years, burned into shape over the last two, would suddenly shift, that a fourth corner would appear to them where he could not follow. 

He does not want what they have, has frankly always been a little repulsed by the idea of physical intimacy, but he wants what they had before back. 

He misses them. 

It gets worse before it gets better. 

He’s always hated the part of him that can’t seem to get past the sulky teenager-ness of his personality even he still is. Still a teenager, still adolescent by definition even though he is two years past adulthood. No matter what Hermione says about brain formation and the effects of trauma he will never not wince at himself. 

And thats the problem— most of the time he can see it happening, see it coming even and yet can do precious little to stop its rapid advance. The precocious silences that fill the house with drooping ceilings and dirty window panes and the snappy remarks when Hermione gets just a little too close to a problem. The creaking door frames and floor boards this brings out. He feels too seen by it, the vulnerability of having a house too closely tied to his emotions and he knows its normal, for a given value. The burrow shudders violently in Molly Weasley’s anger and has a habit of shaking children loose from hiding spots. He knows that muggle houses, even, have a tendency to absorb magic and emotions, the little bits of it that muggles give off, or the small amount from singular Wizarding children. Knows that if one or two more Wizarding affiliated families happened to pass through their thresholds they may very well develop personalities too, might start adapting in increments to the needs of its muggle residents. Knows that at 4 privet drive the cupboard under the stairs is glued shut now, won’t open anymore for all the misery it absorbed yet in his childhood- he sometimes felt it sigh around him, caress his hair and sing him gentle lullabies, humming in the cover of night, the walls glowing softly with the magic of him. He remembers that now, what he used to think were probably dreams. 

He knows all this, and yet he wishes Grimmauld place would stop. Not because he doesn’t appreciate it. Sometimes he pictures Sirius’ grin at finding his posters still glued to the walls or remembers Remus’ smiles when in the morning, a pot of tea would be waiting, not quite hot enough or sweet enough but Remus would smile and brush the walls gently with his finger tips, like he was thanking it, even while Sirius muttered insults under his breath. 

It’s only that the house is too close to his heart. Wishes it wouldn’t feel his anxiety the way it does. Feel his sadness in it’s creaking stairs. 

He does not explain, because he can’t yet, not quite, doesn’t know how to verbalize what he wants, only knows its a bone deep desire for warmth. But Hermione comes home from the market to peeling paint all the way into the sitting room and curls herself around him without asking. Ron brings home Hermione’s favourite flowers but he also carry a box of fresh pastries, steaming treacle tart front and centre. And when he finds them, too warm but snug in front of a broiling fire that should have brunt out ages ago but that the house keeps adding logs to, he does not frown or go blank, the way he used to the way he did in the tent in the forest. But he smiles instead and slots himself in between Harry and the couch arm, barely enough space. He’s really much too big, but somehow he gets all of himself there with them, arms reaching around to brush Hermione’s shoulder, an ankle hooked between Harrys to keep his legs from sliding off the couch. 

He asks what are we doing? And Hermione only shrugs and nuzzles deeper into Harrys side Rons hand. And Ron rests his other elbow on Harry’s shoulder so he can reach his hair and they sit like that for a long time. Too warm and silent. Unwilling to let go. 

Harry goes to bed by himself that night. 

But he wakes to them, Hermione tucked up against his back, forehead pressed between his shoulder-blades knees curled up by his spine, and Ron sprawled starfish on his back across the rest of the bed, one foot still dangling over the edge. 

The loneliness abates, just a little. 

He wonders if it was the house, or if they’ve maybe missed his warmth too. 

#this got long #another fic thats been hanging in my inbox for months #(over a year im so sorry) #golden trio #queerplatonic #aro/ace harry #writing #my writing #fanfic #harry potter #hp #we all know I can only do angst so #very sorry #have some sad harry and a nosy house

[flecks-of-stardust]

sometimes reading other people’s fics is helpful because it made me realize a REALLY crucial thing. like holy shit. i cannot believe this did not occur to me. major spoilers under the cut

i think a good few of you have seen the posts ive made about the cultures of the different kingdoms and domains, and that they have their own languages. ive also alluded to there being trade and shit.

what i havent said is that this little group of kingdoms isnt the only group to exist, and there are other patches of kingdom clusters elsewhere too. in effect the wastelands are like oceans for humans, and the bugs have definitely invented a relatively safe way of traversing the wastelands by the time of dreamless’ events.

this Also means that hallownestian had the opportunity to spread to other kingdoms, some of which may even have adopted it as their primary language (though with regional differences, of course; im just going to pretend dialects aren’t a thing or ghost trying to communicate with hallownestian bugs is going to be a mess). hallownest was a really big and prosperous kingdom for a while, so theres ample opportunity for its language to spread. the same is probably also true of arcleomen? but to a lesser extent; im still debating on how much arcleomen ghost knows, if at all. maybe a few words they’ll recognize and stuff

this... does imply that ghost did not start off understanding hallownestian. they had to learn it, after they got out of the kingdom.

which means orchid isnt going to know hallownestian.

like. they have void talk, which will circumvent them not understanding hallownestian, but holy shit. i now have more ideas to play with. im just floored at how i didnt consider this at all and it took another fic bringing this up for me to realize.

on a similar note, lheki and glimmer both know hallownestian due to being raised in the white palace for at least a while. hornet actually primarily speaks hallownestian, and her arcleomen is really broken; its kind of a minor plot point for her to practice with monomon. light’s echo may get taught a little just to make communication easier, but i havent gotten to that point in the story yet so i dont fully know right now.

just. holy mother of god. i think i accidentally dug another angst pit

#the vessels #dreamless spoilers #dreamless au #as always im happy to offer more information in dms but you have been warned that there are tons of spoilers #im just. going to scream to my beta reader about this

[chemiste]

Voicemail. ~part 2~

a/n : you want it? go get it! heres the second part to voicemail!! I’m thinking a 3rd and final part for this??? if y’all want it tell me! ALSO I’ve linked what the reader is wearing and maybe what others are too so if you see a link thats what it is. also wanted to say thank you so much for the support on this one shot!! i would put those big eye emojis but im typing on a laptop and i dont think O.O is the same....

first part!!!! go read

mah masterlist

“Next on the red carpet is singer/song writer Y/N L/N, wow look at that beautiful dress!! This year at the Grammys she is up for 3 awards, Song of the Year, Best Dance Recording, and Best Solo Pop Artist!” 

The interviewer exclaimed excitedly from her podium along side the paparazzi wall. It had been a week since the songs were let out for the world and so there was definitely an electricity in the air at the awards ceremony.

“All you fans are probably watching for the most anticipated performances of tonight! Harry Styles will be singing one of his new songs from his album FineLine! Twitter is going ballistic from the recently leaked songs about is break up with L/N, we all know the cameras will be on her tonight whenever he’s mentioned! Oh look, here she comes now!”

You walked over in your beautiful award dress, safe to say you were the best dress star there. Your hair was done up and the red long dress seemed to flow around you effortlessly as you walked. 

“Hello Diane, it’s lovely to see you again.” 

You said in a polite voice, smiling to her and the camera, she handed you an extra mic, ready to drown you with questions.

“I’m going to cut to the chase— did you listen to the songs?”

Wow, this lady’s cut throat I’ll give her that.

“Oh yes! I’ve listened to all the albums nominated this year and I’m so excited.”

“Oh I was talking about—“

“I’m so incredibly grateful for the nominations, I put my blood, sweat, and tears into this album and I’m glad the fans love it as much as I do.”

You could see the Diane deflate a little, understanding you’d keep dodging questions about Harry until it was over so she moved on. 

“Yes, you’re nominated for Best Dance Recording, the music video for your song Clouds was crazy! How long did it take you to figure out how to dance while flying?!” 

You laughed, thinking back to the many rehearsals of choreography on the ground and then being connected to cables and hoisted into the air to perform it. 

“A girl never tells her secrets,” you said with a wink. 

“Well speaking of flying in a music video, I know one performance tonight will be—“

Cheers and hysteric screaming filled the fan area as someone came on to the carpet. 

“Is that? Oh look, Harry Styles enters the stage in a—, my goodness! You and him are matching!”

You couldn’t believe it.

Harry was decked out in a full red suit, hair beautifully fluffed and glimmering in the light. He had red heels that looked like Dorthy’s slippers.

And he had the faintest amount of red lipstick on, making him look like an ethereal being in red.

“Wow, we really are matching.” 

You mumbled to yourself, half forgetting you were being filmed. 

You turned back to the camera the moment you remembered, making your face emotionless so hopefully the interviewer wouldn’t pick up on your thoughts at the moment. 

You quickly thanked her and slipped off into the sea of celebrities, hearing his voice ‘hello love! So happy you could come’ to the fans hoping he would give them a signature.

You entered the award room, looking for your assigned seat. Luckily you were strangely one of the only people in there aside from a few techies working on the stage lights.

“Lady Gaga, Taylor Swift, Selena Gomez, Billie Elish, Kahild… Harry….” 

You gasped, basically scoffing at what you saw next. 

“Y/N L/N? Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

You started to breathe a little faster, “Oh god, I don’t think I can do a whole ceremony next to him, after the whole thing online… and not responding to his texts.”

It’s true, when he had texted you that morning, it took you 5 hours and a shot of tequila to actually open his messages.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Hey… I don’t know if you’ve gotten a call from one of your PR people yet but, I just wanted you to know I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I don’t wish to put you through anymore than what I already have…

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Um, but uh, if you’ve listened to the songs, just know that I really do mean the words I sang. I wish we could have, uh talked, but I understand I’m not in any position to ask for that. Just, there were a few others songs that didn’t get leaked, and uh, I’d like you to have them. You don’t have to listen to them but, it would mean a lot to me if you did.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

“Mrs. Styles.”M4A. Click to open.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

“I Should Have Fought.”M4A. Click to open.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

“I’m Sorry.”M4A. Click to open.

You didn’t listen to them, like the others. 

You just… couldn’t. 

It had taken you so long to get over him and grind it into your head that you didn’t do anything wrong, he did. 

Your PR team decided the best thing to do was acted like nothing had happened because if you didn’t give a response the public would have nothing to go off of, so here you were, looking at one of the scheming ideas from someone on the Award Team to see if they’d be the first to get some action between the two of you.

“Fuck that.” 

You said to yourself, looking around to make sure no one was looking, you snatched your name paper and walked about 15 seats over and changed with Lana Del Ray. 

Because you were all in the front row, you couldn’t get farther than that, but this would have to do. You quickly put Lana’s paper in your previous seat and walked out of the room, escaping the ‘crime scene’.

At least I’m sitting next to Shawn now.

You and Shawn had gotten to be friends around a year ago when you bumped into him at the recording studio and....maybe spilled your marshmallow milkshake down his shirt.

“I’m so fuckin sorry! Oh god please don’t sue me for this, or worst, tell your fans!!” 

You rambled, padding him off with the napkins from your fast food bag. You looked up at the tall Canadian in front of you that just had a smile on his face.

 “Hey don’t worry about it, uh, I’m Shawn but I guess you already knew that.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been listening to your music for a while its fantastic, I’m—“ 

“Y/N L/N, America’s Favorite Child and Feminist thats not faired to fuck you up?” 

You grinned, “Oh you saw that video?” 

He laughed, “Hell ya I did, You punching that old misogynist groping that girl on the street is one of the videos saved on my phone!”

After that day, you both caught on like a house on fire since you seemed to be in the studio at the same time, it was great having someone to throw ideas around with at 3am when everyone else had left the studio.

“Y/N! Girl! I haven’t seen you in forever!” 

You looked up from the corner of the red carpet you had been hiding standing in. Hailee Steinfeld made her way over to you in a black dress that hugged her perfectly. 

You let out a sigh of relief, you gave her a big hug, breathing in her sweet perfume. 

“Hailee you’re a life savor, I feel so out of it here.” 

She gave you a soft look, “Cause he’s here right?”

You clinched your jaw, “And we’re fucking matching! How did that even happen? It’s literally the same shade of my dress and everything! There are so many shades his team could have chose but they went with that one! And the lipstick! He’s basically a devil personified! But he’s got style!”

You quietly rambled to your fellow singer, she squeezed your hand when the bell chimed telling everyone it was time to enter. 

“Y/N, before we go in I wanted to ask if you had listened to the songs.” 

“Uh, no… I… I couldn’t hear his voice staying those things to me so I just read the lyrics.” 

Hailee gave your bare shoulder a squeeze, “Well, I don’t want to play devil’s advocate,” you smiled at her little quip, “but I did, and what’s not in the lyrics just written is the emotion you could hear in his voice. During Drunk Thoughts, theres a part that people are speculating he’s crying while recording, trying force sing it out and, it’s just, I think it’s time you spoke to him.”

Hailee was one of your most trusted friends and to hear her say this, wasn’t surprising.

You were starting to think it too.

“But, I’m scared H, what if makes it worse?”

The final bell chimed and you both started to walk inside. “I have a feeling it won’t."

                                                        ........

“What an incredible performance by Ariana Grande, next up is the show we’ve all been waiting for, or well I’ve been waiting for, here’s Harry Styles performing a new song from his nominated Album, FineLine!” 

James Corden announced from the side aisle. You felt Shawn subtly queen your hand, knowing there was bound to be a camera on you the whole time while Harry sang.

You took a deep breath,

No facials.

No twitching.

Calm.

The curtain came up from the stage, the set was a back cube cut diagonally so the audience could see the inside. 

Harry stood in a white suit sans a shirt. He wasn’t wearing shoes so you could see the painted red toe nails peeking out from underneath the too long suit pants. 

His hair had been messed with a bit, giving it a soft and fluffy just out of bed look.

Now he looks like an angel.

He held a red mic in his hand, and spoke into it.

“Before we start, I’d like to inform you that I will be singing an unreleased song not from my album called.”

He took a breath.

"Red.”

You curled your toes in your heels the only way you’d be allowed to release the tension you felt in your body since they were covered by your dress.

Fuck, that’s why we match.

A piano started playing, a sort of dark melody that reverberated through your bones and into your soul.

It’s all I can see,

It’s all I can hear,

The sound is loud,

But it’s not clear.

The tone of your voice,

Plays in my head,

That look in your eyes,

I can tell you want me dead.

Grays are the only color I see,

Black and white and in between.

But then I saw you in that dress.

The color of blood always suited you the best.

You and your red dress.

You and your red…… dress.

Thoughts swirl around, in my mind.

Pretty eyes and satin clothes,

They plagues my dreams, in the night.

Grays are the only color I see,

Black and white and in between.

But then I saw you in that dress.

The color of blood always suited you the best.

You and your red dress.

You and your red…… dress.

You watched as he struggled to hold back the emotion in his voice, you sucked in a small breathe when his eyes made contact with yours, unwavering.

Oh… I wish could take it back.

Oh… I wish I could take it back.

Oh… I wish could take it back.

Oh… I wish I could take it back.

You and your red dress.

You and your red…… dress.

You and your red dress.

You and your red…… dress.

The song ended and the audience was silent.

 Everyone could feel the tension in the room, so you did the only you could do.

You stood and started to clap.

Shawn and Hailee immediately followed your cue and soon the rest of the auditorium was erupting with cheers and roars of excitement.

But all you could focus on was the smile on his face, looking down at you.

And the one forming on yours too.

<3

3rd part right here!

alsoooo i’d like to say a big wtf to people that white wash reader inserts! it’s so damn easy to just put a little colleague together like i did and add it so everyone can envision themselves and like,,, need a hairstyle? literally say ‘you did your favorite hairstyle’ thats perfect and a neutral way to keep everyone happy!!! people that bitch about going the extra mile are worthless writers smh

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry x famous!reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #one direction #h s #1d x reader

[englishmuffinsrd]

Don’t Stop Believing

Pairing: Bakugou x reader (I guess)

Genre: fluff (I guess)

Word count: ...

Synopsis: U.A is on Fall break and, wanting to take his mind off things, Katsuki takes the midnight train- meeting a girl he doubts he’ll forget.

——————————————————————————

On nights like these, Katsuki’s mind is loud. Cities come alive, unfold before him, Street lights glimmering like the golden stars people no longer see these days. Students sit at their desks diligently working on school, somewhere some boy walks out of a bakery, coffee in hand, another coffee, he doesn’t even like coffee, you know. He curses himself for not being able to confess to the cute girl behind the counter.

Katsuki’s mind is loud, walking on the wet pavement, the only noise the sound of a distant horn and his boots but it all means nothing, not to him, not right now, beacuse it’s late and he’s tired, no where to go to calm his mind.

It was August and U.A was on break, most students, including himself left the dorms to be with family. And as cheesy as it sounds, the only reason he’s out and about is to take a midnight train, get out of this damn city. How the hell is he supposed to train to be a hero if he’s not doing anything? And besides, his mom was pissing him off tonight.

Katsuki knows better than anyone else. Theres a ludic... something about the eerieness of a scarcely inhabited train station at the cusp of midnight, not that he’s even the slightest bit scared, but it still stands to mention the uncomfortable silence that surrounds him. Believe me when I tell you he’s been here before; Bakugou could make it to the subway with his eyes closed. Reaching his destination he knows so well he spots an unexpected face. And her face shows the same expression he holds, ‘you too?’ He thinks to himself, ‘is your mind loud, like mine?’but her eyes are on her phone, reading somthing with her earbuds in.

The fact is Kachaan is just a really deep thinker, some may argue that his abrasive demeanor shows just how unthoughtful he is but that just isn’t true, one may think his mind is simply full of crushing extras and becoming number one but that too, would be false. Katsuki is a deep thinker (maybe the cause of his loud mind, but we have no time to discuss that, do we? Perhaps some other time) anyone could see through the unsaid emotions in his eyes. But he’s got no one to look, nobody to see his eyes and read his emotions, his fault too, he’s the only one to be held accountable for pushing every living being away, so there he sat, nearly empty train stations at approximately—

A big woosh of air breaks through the lonely station, whipping his hair slightly. The girl sat beside him takes out an earplug and listens to the loud scream of the train, there’s a light and there it is, the metro they had both been waiting for. They stand up, together, and makes there way to the opening doors.

Sitting down they realize just how empty even the train was-only to then be surprised-jumping at the loud drunk yelling in the passenger car, the man promptly gets up, ‘He probably fell asleep here and missed his stop’ Katsuki thought. Grumbling the inebriated manmoves to the agasent car, tossing his limbs slightly. But not before the girl and Katsuki lock eyes, both showing equal shock maybe a little amusement there too. She puts her earbud back in, looks him in the eye and smiles at him, a genuine-beautiful smile. And for the first time, in a long time, Bakugou’s mind quites.

(This is unedited and my first fic please me nice to me 🥺 I also did this on my phone so I think the layout might be weird)

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #mha #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo fic #bakugou fic #my writing #katsuki x y/n #katsuki fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fanfiction #fluff #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

[lewismonochromepepper]

(viviskull) 💭 *Lets see how this man drowned*

Send me a “💭“ and your Muse will experience one of my Muse’s Memories

((Heyo it gets a lil intense so be careful!))

@viviskull

Mono had been asleep for the past few hours. Curled into his corner of the living room - despite having been given a space for him to sleep on the couch - wrapped in one of their many quilts. His knees were drawn up and wrapped in a hug close to his chest... Not the weirdest position, since Mono typically nodded off while curled into some sort of ball. What was weird, was how much noise he was making. Sparky was prepared to leave him be and return to bed when Mono’s breath suddenly hitched. 

The gray spirit’s teeth ground together to the point where Sparky could hear its whine, followed by a tight gasping that became a pant. 

The crease in Sparky’s features deepened, and he reaches out, lightly brushing his palm against Mono’s shoulder.

He wasn’t in his home anymore, instead, he’s staring at a pile of mud he just stepped in and surrounded by shadow

Theres a chitter of laughter, and Sparky lifts his gaze to Vivi, who had a smirk on her face, lifting her own foot to show that she also made a similar mistake. Her torch glimmered beside her head, and Sparky’s grip tightens on his own- his torch smoked lightly from something dripping from above them. Onto their shoulders. Sparky’s heart thrummed something fierce as he lifts his head.

Above him, stalactites, dripping with an almost greenish slime and reflecting their fire, adding jagged depths that Sparky would much rather not have seen. A cave. They’re in a cave. Why does it look like this?

“Why of all the places,” Arthurs voice pulls him from the thought, “it had to be the slip n’ slide from hell.” He grumbles, wiping droplets of slime from his hair and shoulders. Vivi cackled a laugh, and Sparky felt like he should too, but he doesn’t even make a peep.

He can’t feel... anything. Like his chest had been hollowed out and every thought silenced, replaced by the drip, drip, drip and rushing of some sort of current. 

“Well, if you want to get out so bad, we should hurry it up. Shall we?” Sparky nods thoughtlessly, turning his head to the familiar split in the road to their left. Mystery was sniffing carefully, scrutinizing the molded boards. A thin layer of fog drifting all around it, leading to the left where it grew and to the right where it slid down to some sort of bottom. 

A hand brushes his bicep, and he cant stop himself from flinching. Arthur jolts as well. “R-ready to get this over with, big guy?”

A nod. Silent steps to the left. Vivi and Arthur exchange a wave and fish out their walkie-talkies for good measure, before Vivi vanishes into the entrance of the lower path. Arthur’s foot steps scramble after his, and his fingers catch Sparky’s sleeves. 

“You okay?” 

No response, hardly a grunt. Sparky could feel the bags under his eyes as his face twists into something almost sympathetic, meeting Arthur's worried gaze. It doesn’t look right on him. He shouldn’t be doing this.

Despite the lack of response, Arthur nodded. “Episode, then? Shit... let’s get this over and done with then, one quick look around. Then we can heat up some leftovers and pop in a few CD’s to watch. That sound good?” Arthur lightly squeezes his hand- when did that get there? 

Nonetheless, Sparky nods without thinking, and his cheeks hurt as his lips pull back into a soft smile. Then, a croaky, “Okay.” 

The further they walked, the louder the drips became. It echoes in Sparky’s ears and his grip tightens on the torch while a swirl of annoyance grew. Jaw stiffening. God, I hate that noise. Arthur must have noticed, because theres another squeeze, and Sparky nearly pulls it away. 

The fog and slime seemed to grow the further in they got, and it became more of a struggle to not step in any slippery pitfalls. The two of them keep caution and hook each others elbows, with Lewis holding the torch high and Arthur shining a flashlight across the surfaces. The fog only grew, and they pass through it. 

Sparky’s eyes drift to Arthur, to a jagged part of the wall just a few steps away. What if I grabbed him by his hair and smashed his fa-

What. What kind of thought is that? Keep going. 

I would never do that. I don’t want to do that. 

I would never. 

Sparky repeats the mantra in his head, hoping to shove down the guilt bubbling in his stomach. Arthur, oblivious, does pause to look back. “Mystery? Why are you following us? You’re supposed to be with Vivi...” Arthur unhooks their arms, and undoubtedly shines the beacon on the dog’s face. His voice became a mix of muffled and echos.

No matter, Sparky kept walking ahead. The ground was even more slippery the farther he went, but Sparky kept going into the overwhelming darkness- a hole, perchance? Why can’t he see much of it-? 

His breath catches in his throat, foot catching on something and nearly sending him forward... 

A cliff. Sparky lowers his torch, and sure enough, he found himself at a ledge. The ground- water? - was shone upon by Vivi’s flashlight, just beneath him. He could make out her blue form among the dank greens, and his breath catches in his throat when she turns up and waves at him. She shines the light on his legs, and then back to the water. 

From up here, it was entirely black, although Vivi traced several stalagmites jutting out from under the surface. Ones Sparky could barely make out until she had done so... 

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the drop. The pool of water was directly beneath them... 

What if I just jump? 

Sparky blinks slowly, a tightness restricting his lungs, and he swallows anxiously as he continues to stare at the still water.

I can jump right now, and maybe nothing will happen, or maybe, maybe I’ll die.

“Lewis?”

Arthur’s voice. Sparky glances behind him. 

His heart drops. 

There’s a smear of green, and Arthur’s face is contorted and shadowed. His hand is reaching out, it looks dark and sickly. Reaching for him-

“P-please-” Arthurs voice rasps, but its not his, his eyes are black. Black and green. 

Arthur lunges, and Sparky’s torch drops. He winds his hands back, and it one quick motion, Arthurs thrown back. Another lurch, and Sparky’s heart pummels. Adrenaline soaring, he did the first thing he thought of, and kicks Arthur back. This time Arthur folds, something’s behind him. Something large and gleaming. Something. What is that-

Sparky cant stop shaking. Backing up. Backing away. Until the ground before him is drenched and his soles can’t keep him steady. Over the ledge. 

Over the ledge. The stalactites smiling down as him as his own hands claw at nothing. His stomach and lungs pushing up and gravity slamming him down. The ledge vanishes, a crash of water erupts in his eardrums and nothing saves him from his body being swallowed. 

Pain. Pain. A sharp, crackling sensation tears through him. Its both dull and sharp, and Sparky’s mouth opens to release the scream ripping through him. Something swarms in. Small bits flood his mouth and eyes. Dark greens swish around him, and his heart beats painfully against something hard and jagged and refusing to offer any relief. 

The stabs stretch his flesh, pressure builds under his ribs before snapping. Sparky’s eyes feel as if they’ll pop from the desperation of his mind. He wanted out, he needed to gte out, swim to the surface, escape, breathe-!

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t, something’s touching him, stretching him open, ripping him open. Long, feathery snakes dance in his view among dots of white and red and copper, and they coil around him. Yank him further. And Further. And further until the pain explodes into fire and is swallowed by the dark fluid.

His ears roar and scream, and it fills his head and clashes along racing thoughts. He’s being pulled and its not to the surface, only deeper.

How was he even awake right now? A small thought asks, and somehow his vision clears the smallest bit. His limbs were weak, and the strain didn’t stop. His gaze shifts and stares up-

Something blue crashes into the water. Somehow, somehow he knows what it is.

Vivi. Her blue sleeves clawing out, her voice lost in the bubbles of the current. She was reaching, reaching out for him, how. How.

The snakes, threads of plant life notice her as well. Dark straps stabbing into her, wrapped around, pulling her down-

No…

Something else dives into the water. It snags the blue and in one quick motion she’s gone, the green dangling there helplessly before sinking back to the depths.

He couldn't breathe. The swarms kept flying into his mouth and eyes and ears. He kept being stretched until pressure broke and pain shot out of him like a fireworks.

And then it was over. Finally.

No more stank and filth, but just a soft scent of febreeze in the air.

Sparky's hand sits on Mono's shoulder, and finally he can feel the fast trembling. Mono's eyes meet his, and Sparky is met with a twisted look of anguish and pain.

"G-go, go away." Mono pleads, voice raspy and quiet and scared.

#answering asks #viviskull #ic #canon #save for later #graphic descriptions of injury CW #death cw #drowning tw #impalement tw #((yeah bad news bears man))

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

It’s so dark - pt 2 (Spike x Reader)

Warning: Mentions of death, swearing, angst 

word count: 1,576

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You don't know how long you had been lying on the cold sodden cemetery ground staring up at the balls of gas in the sky we call stars. They were so beautiful. You'd never really taken the time to appreciate the little things in life. You were dying. 

You could feel you body getting colder, could almost feel the blood draining from your body and seeping into the earth beneath you. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and you looked up blinking, staring into the eyes of your crying vampire. You shakily lifted your crimson palm to cup his stoney cheek. 

“Shhhh Spike, It’s okay, it’s okay.” You could hear Giles and everyone talking behind you, Willow and Tara were sat on either side of you chanting something gibberish and Buffy had just finished off the vampire that did this to you. God, you'd think with all your training or something you would have been able to stop this but it all happened too quick, you just had to save spike. You loved him too much to see him turn to ash. 

Spike brought you into his arms and cried into your hair, his firm hands gripping onto your bleeding body for dear life, you were crying because this was it, as much as you had hated your father in the beginning for being away with the slayer you wanted to get to know him and reconnect, you thought you had all the time in the world. Then there was Spike, your leather clad knight in shinning armour, the love of your life and you his. The greatest love in his lifetime. You cried into him as you felt your soul slipping away, your eyes blurry, looking up at the night sky, one last sigh. 

“I love you William.”

- unknown p.o.v.-

“Hybrid, you shouldn't be here, it is not your time yet, you’ve not realised your true destiny, born of Slayer lineage and Warlock, you harness great powers that with this love sacrifice will be fully realised when you rise from the earth re-born!”

You woke with a start. God what a weird dream…. until you realised, it wasn't a dream at all as you stared up at the lid of the wooden box that encased your very much alive body. You gasped and your hands flew to where the metal rod had once protruded from your skin. Nothing, no mark, no hole, like nothing ever happened. You started to panic.. You were in a coffin and everyone thought you were dead. What did that voice mean destiny? Slayer and Warlock lineage? You looked down, your body clad in your favourite black dress and on your chest.. spikes pendant he always wore around his neck. Your eyes welled up and you screamed as it started getting harder and harder to breath. You needed to get out, you punched the top of the lid with all the strength you could muster from your lying position and much to your surprise you heard a loud crack. You coughed and blinked as earth fell on your face, you hated to think what creepy crawlies were in the box with you. 

It had felt like a life time but you had managed to completely break through the layer of wood holding you hostage. The earth was hard and cold, your fingers racked the earth urgently, holding your breath as much as you could. It was like trying to swim to the surface of a pool but you never knew when you'd break through the top. You started panicking as the breath slipped away from you bit by bit. You just wished the ground would open up and let you out. You dug harder and harder and all of a sudden you felt a breeze, the earth had opened up…. as if by magic. Your fingers tingled, you watched what looked like purple smoke recede into your mud covered finger tips. Right now, you didn't question it, all you knew is you didn't like being buried alive. Your body squeezed from the hole in the ground and on tired achey arms you pulled yourself up and rolled onto your back, this time very much alive, and once again looking at the stars. 

You had tried to brush as much mud and leaves off as possible, but it wasn't worth trying. You stood slowly, scared your legs might give, turning, you glimpsed the white pearly headstone with your name engraved. Normally it would take a while to get a headstone when someone died, however, given Sunnydale’s reputation for people dropping dead every to minutes, there were a few places you could get one from around here. You gulped and held back tears, oh god, everyone must be out of their minds. How has this all happened. 

You didn't know where to go first, your heart knew where it wanted to go… to your platinum blonde boyfriends crypt, but you also didn't want to freak him out, and part of you wanted to find out what was actually happening to you incase this was all some sort of twisted trick and living wasn't the permeant situation… You found your legs carrying you towards your fathers house before your brain realised what was happening. You must have thought subconsciously that, surely, your father should know all about this? But what if seeing you alive puts him into shock… I guess it would be a risk you'd have to take unless…. there was always Willow and Tara… 

Before long you had changed direction and you were headed to the apartment that Willow and Tara shared. It was the middle of the night, the town roads lit up by nothing but the dull amber glow of street lights, the wind rustling through the bitter air and you, alone, barefoot, hopefully walking towards some answers and a much needed shower. 

Stopping, you looked up at the apartment building, part of you felt guilty that you were probably about to wake them but then you shook yourself remembering you just rose from the dead. Scoffing, you reached for the door handle that lead you into the block of apartments, locked. Of course it’s locked. You tried it again but no use… god, if the thing about having witchy powers was true then they sure would have been helpful now.. You felt stupid but you focused, placing your hand on the door knob, thinking and challenging some sort of energy into the door handle. You didn't have a fucking clue what you were doing but you had been around Willow and Tara to know a small thing or two. Before you knew it, the same purple smokey tendrils present at your gravesite, pulsed from your palm and the door flew open with a bang. Whoops… 

You'd only been to Willow and Tara’s apartment once, it was fairly new and they hadn't been there very long. You still remembered the way, following the grey marble tiles down the second story corridor to door number 3. You hesitated, you were nervous, scared… all of the above, but with a deep breath you took the plunge and rapped your fist on the door. At first you didn't know if anyone was in, no lights, no sounds of movement, but then a glimmer of hope as you heard a groan and the side light next to the sofa switched on. Here goes.. 

To say they were shocked was an understatement.. Tara was the one who had answered the door, she had screamed and knocked the lamp of the side table while staring at you with wide frightened eyes. Obviously all the commotion alerted willow who was in the other room, and she came out magic at the ready, poised to fight anything evil at the door. She too was shocked, disbelief fluttering across her facial features, then a grin and she was hugging you tightly and ushering you into the dimly lit apartment. 

After they had helped you wash up, brushed the twigs and dirt from your hair and sat you down with some coffee, you filled them in on everything that had happened. Explaining the weird voice, the prophecy, having to claw your way out of your coffin after you woke up again. Willow was healing your hands with some charms while Tara scoured through book after book, trying to find anything that might explain what had actually happened. But nothing. It had been hours and there was nothing. Yous sighed falling back into the sofa only one person on your mind. You sadly looked at Willow. 

“How is Spike?” She turned to you slowly.

“He’s not in a good way Y/N, Maybe you should go and see him, the last time I saw him he left your grave plot and went back to his crypt demanding to be left alone.” You couldn't help but let a couple of tears fall. 

“Theres nothing more I want than to go and see Spike, b-but what if this isn't permanent, what if this is some cruel joke and I see him and then I just die again..” You were really crying now, the full weight of what had happened setting in. Without saying anything Tara and Willow enclosed their arms around you and held you… for how long you didn't know.. all you knew was the sun rose and you were living to see another day.

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Okay so this is wayyyyy overdue.. but it’s here at least! Let me know what you think in the comments below and please tell me if you want to be added to a tagging list for future parts!  

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