#// and he probably has for certain shades of red

[reiderwriter]

Hii! Could you write a Spencer x fem reader, she's extremely confident & forward and Spencer gets all flustered, shy and overwhelmed at how forward she is with flirting with him and complimenting him (even tho he loves it), thank you:-)

A/N: This was such a cute request, thanks for sending it in! I love shy and oblivious Spencer he's so silly and cute ㅠㅠ

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: pure fluff

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Spencer Reid is a genius. But if he hasn't noticed you've been flirting with his for a week straight, he must be an idiot. Non-BAU!Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol intake. Kissing. Slightly suggestive ending.

Here's my masterlist, requests are open! 🎉

Working with the FBI as a consultant on a case was practically a dream come true for you, but what was even more dreamy was the man you got to work with whilst consulting. You’d arrived bright and early, really eager to help with the case you’d been called in for. On the phone, Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner had asked for your help decoding some documents that the team thought had something to do with the Literature you were teaching as part of your course at a local university.

In all honesty, you were a massive fan of detective novels, an early love for Agatha Christie and the Golden Age of mystery making you entertain an idea in law enforcement before you decided that really wasn’t for you, so you were eager to help out in anyway you could fathom.

“One of our Special Agents, Doctor Reid, has decoded most of it, but he says there are some key areas he may be missing and he wants to pick your brains, to see if you can help him come up with something,” he said, guiding you into a small sideroom.

Having previously heard that Doctor Spencer Reid had achieved no less than three PhDs and three additional Bachelor's Degrees in varying subjects, you weren’t quite sure to expect when walking into the room. You certainly weren’t expecting one of the prettiest men you’d ever seen in your life to be sat reading through a pretty thick tome at an incredible speed.

“Reid, this is Professor Y/L/N, she’s here to help you decode the cypher. Professor, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.” Hotchner introduced you, but as soon as you picked your jaw up off the floor, you instantly stepped forward.

“Please, call me Y/N. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you… Spencer was it?” You smile and stick out your hand. You notice the flush on the man's face and your grin grows even wider as he hesitates to take your hand.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really shake hands, the number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.” He stutters through the words, almost struggling to get them out, but you don’t falter for a second.

“Kiss me then,” you say smirking up at him and you realise that the other agent had since left the room, leaving you alone with the object of your affections. Ignoring your response, but face tinged such a bright shade of red that you knew he was effected by it, he dives into the facts of the case.

“We think that he’s using some kind of cypher based on some books you’ve been researching recently at the University, which means we think he could possibly be a student of yours. I read through your PhD thesis this morning, and there are certain commonalities that suggest you could be the key to solving some of our unknowns.”

“You read my thesis? What did you think of it?” you ask, moving to sit in the chair directly next to him, scooting it a little bit closer than was polite.

“I don’t have a degree in Literature of the Renaissance Period, so I’m not sure how much value my opinion really holds in this scenario,” he looks at you and you’re pleasantly surprised at how genuine he’s being.

“Well, you’ve seen mine, can I see yours?” you allow the cogs in his brain to keep turning for a few seconds then continue. “I’m sure with three PhDs to your name, you’ve probably got a few research papers floating about, right?”

“Oh….” he blushes again, turning his eyes away from you and doing his best not to make eye contact. “I’m sure I could send them to you after we’ve completed this case if you think they would allow you a deeper insight into any of my fields of study.” He coughs a little to hide the way his voice pitched up as he spoke and kept his eyes trained on the book in his hands.

This consulting role was going to be the most fun you’d had in weeks.

–X–

A week later, you found yourself sat at a bar, surrounded by the members of the BAU team celebrating another case closed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to fully partake in their merryments exactly. You’d assumed, after an entire week of flirting very openly with Reid, that when he’d asked you to the bar that evening to celebrate wrapping up the case, he’d meant just the two of you. Alas, you had discovered over the week that not only was he the most adorable man you’d ever met, he was also the most oblivious. Impressive for a man with an IQ of 187.

You couldn’t complain too much. Your help on the case had meant the rescue of two young girls, two of your students in undergrad courses nonetheless, so you’d at least made a difference. You had nothing against the rest of the team either, having become fast friends with Garcia, and enjoying your twenty minutes of small ltalk in the morning at the coffee station with Prentiss, Morgan and JJ as well. Hell, you even loved Rossi, who gave off the fun Uncle vibe that you found rounded out the team well. But you couldn’t curb your disappointment still, so you distanced yourself from the table a bit and removed yourself to the bar to grab yourself a new drink. You stayed there for a few minutes to nurse it.

“Hello, beautiful,” the man sat at the barstool next to you leered down at you, “you looking for some company in the bottom of that glass tonight?” He winked at you and your skin crawled. It wasn’t just his creepy smile, and the disgusting way he dragged his eyes over your body, it was that he was also very likely older than your own father. Some people were into that, but you certainly weren’t

“Not today, thanks,” you said, hoping that would be enough to get him to leave you in peace, but of course it wasn’t.

“Hot piece of ass like you, you need a real man to take care of you.” He pushed his hand out and for a split second you were convinced he was going to make an attempt to smack your ass. Before he was able to make contact, and, perhaps more importantly, before you could be arrested for aggravated assault, a hand was wrapping around your hip and pulling you away from the man, your back colliding with a firm chest behind you.

“Y/N, Special Agent Hotchner is about to leave and he wanted to thank you for coming to consult for us. The FBI is always really grateful for conscientious citizens like you willing to help us keep the streets safe.” Spencer turned you around and said, emphasising words to make it clear what his job was, speaking loudly enough that you knew the words were only for the creep behind you who’d thought to lay a hand on you.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said as the man downed the rest of his drink and made to leave the bar, obviously embarrassed and threatened by Spencer’s arrival. He made to loosen his grip on you as the man left, but you through your arms around his neck, not letting him leave. If this was your last opportunity to make him realise what you wanted, you absolutely weren’t going to let it get away from you.

“I wanted to thank you for this week as well, Spencer. Hotch said it was you that recommended me for the consulting role.” He blushed and stood there a little awkwardly, but made no move to leave, his hands unmoving from your hips. It reminded you of your middle school prom, in all honesty.

“Oh that’s no big deal. It worked out pretty well in the end, though, right, with your students and everything.” You nodded and thanked him again, but you were still pretty reluctant to see him walk away, back to the table filled with his closest friends and colleagues.

“So, are you looking forward to going back home? I’m sure your boyfriend or husband or whatever will be really glad to see you again.” He mumbled and you felt your heart stop for a second.

“Spencer, I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a husband, or any kind of partner for that matter. I’m sorry if I made you think I do,” you saw his eyes widen in panic a little, and you relaxed a bit yourself as he started to talk again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed that someone as pretty as you couldn’t be single.” He stuttered every single word out, and you didn’t quite register his words for a second.

“You think I’m pretty?” you ask looking up at him and he gapes down at you, realising this conversation is just him shooting himself in the foot over and over again.

“Shit… what I mean is…Y/N you have to know you’re gorgeous, right?” It was your turn to blush then, feeling the sincerity in his words.

“You know, I thought you were asking me out on a date tonight.” You tell him, watching his entire face crumple again in distress.

“But I told you we were going out to celebrate finishing the case!” He spoke in his defence.

“Spencer, what were your exact words?”

“Y/N, do you want to grab a drink tonight? It would be nice to celebrate now that the case is closed and- oh. OH.” The realisation dawned on his face, and you enjoyed the little look of devastation that played out there as his blush deepened.

“It’s fine, Spencer, really. If you’re not interested in me, you’re not interested, I get it.” You sighed, finally moving to let him go, resigned to your fate now.

“Wait, Y/N, that’s not what I meant!” He grabbed you by the hand gently, not quite as close as you were the moment before but still standing notably close. You realised you probably had an audience for this.

“I didn’t realise that you’d want to go on a date with me, you’re so beautiful and smart, I just never thought you’d be interested.” Your brain almost exploded with that, and you had to make a conscious effort to not have your jaw drop to the floor, but apparently the man wasn’t finished. “I just assumed you had a flirty personality, and like, really look at you and then look at me-” you absolutely had to cut him off before he said anything else, so you did.

Crashing your lips up into his was the most sensible thing you’d done since stepping into the bar that evening. He was statuesque at first, unmoving while your lips pressed against him, but he warmed up to it and began kissing you back with equal fervor. You moved the hands that were holding yours to your waist, then moved your own hands up to tangle in his hair, playing with a few curls at the base of his neck.

After a few minutes, you finally pulled away to see a dumbstruck expression on his face.

“Oh. Oh, I see now,” was all he could get out, unable to form more words as he panted into the space between you,

“Yeah? That’s good. I’ve been flirting with you all week, so it’s nice of you to finally notice.” You giggle up at him slowly, and he tightens his grip on your waist.

“What should….what should I do now?” He asked, obviously a little bit unsure of himself, and happy to let you take the lead.

“Well, you can either take me back to your place now, or you could start with asking me out on that date?” He looked like he was seriously weighing up his options for a minute, before he looked you in the eye again.

“Can I do both?”

--X--

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @bluecandycake @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @daddy-dotcom @zaapsite @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @alyssaxstan @ghostheartbeat @beguiling3lavender @Casss2111 @zatannas-wand @rebloggiest-reblogger @kspencer34

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

[149panda149]

TGCF: My theory on the inspiration behind the 4 calamities

In some of the oldest Chinese myths and legends, there are 4 guardian gods of the four cardinal directions - the green dragon, white tiger, crimson bird, and black tortoise, and each have a colour, season and element associated with them. I'm not sure if anyone has made this connection before, but I'm writing it down if anyone is interested. There are spoilers about the calamities' identity.

First, the 青龙 （qing long, green dragon) --> Qi Rong, Night-touring Green lantern.

The qinglong's territory is the East, and its colour is qing, which means green, or turqoise. Its element is wood, and its season is spring. Closely associated with royalty and the imperial family.

Now, for the similarities with our favourite green goblin. "qing" is literally the colour in Qi Rong's title, and his colour scheme. Qi Rong has a habit of hanging corpses from trees, which may be his relation to the element "wood". He does not have any obvious coleration with the season "spring"- perhaps he was born in spring. He is royalty, part of the imperial family as cousin to the crown prince.

Second, the 白虎 （bai hu, white tiger)--> Bai Wuxiang, White Clothed Disaster upon the Earth.

The baihu's territory is the West, its colour is white, element is gold/metal, and its season is summer. It is the king of all beasts, associated with disease and war, often used as a guardian symbol by soldiers.

On the other hand, Jun Wu's title, alias and colour scheme are all white, and has plenty of weapons that may be his link to the element of "gold/metal". I don't think he has anything to do with summer, but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. He is king of the gods, a god of war, and the one to spread the human face disease.

As east and west are considered a pair, the guardian spirits are meant to reflect each other. In Chinese poems and such, symmetry is important, and both Qi Rong and Jun Wu were princes, one becoming revered by the highest of gods, covered with masks and false identities, one becoming the object of disgust by the lowest of ghosts, using his real name and face. There is a certain poetic symmetry to it, don't you think?

To the second pair. The 朱雀 (zhu que, crimson bird)----> Hua Cheng, Crimson Rain Sought Flower

The zhuque rules over the south, its colour is red, element is fire, and its season is summer. It is the king of all birds, more powerful than even the phoenix, immortal and undying. As such, in many places it is also considered a symbol of life.

Now, to the most popular ghost king: Hua Cheng. The english translation of his title is "crimson", and his colour scheme is indubitably red and autumn-y shades. He also re-re-met Xie Lian in autumn ( I think - I mean, the leaves were all red in the donghua??), and has died again and again to return like the zhuque. He is the king of all ghosts, with a great determination to live(sorta? are ghosts alive??) for his love.

Lastly, my personal favourite, the 玄武 (xuan wu, black tortoise)---->He Xuan, Black Water Sinking Ships

The xuanwu, also called a tortoise, is actually the only spirit to be a combination of 2 animals, a snake and a tortoise. It rules over the north. Its colour is black( sometimes depicted as dark blue), element is water, and its season is winter. In earlier legends, he is considered a guide and guardian to the netherworld, of death and of long life.

Thus, to our poor indebted water ghost. He Xuan's name is "xuan", the same! goddamn! character! as the spirit! His title and colour scheme are all to do with the colour black, and he is a water ghost because he died because of the Water Master. He has been marked by death, yet survived and vowed revenge. This, and the fact that his house is called the Nether Water Manor, is probably his relation to the netherworld of the xuanwu.

To the pair of south and north. Both Hua Cheng and He Xuan have suffered and suffered again, yet Hua Cheng chooses to linger on due to hope and love, and He Xuan due to revenge and hatred. But hatred and love are two sides of the same coin. If Hua Cheng hadn't experienced the hatred from his childhood, he wouldn't have thrown himself from the city wall and met Xie Lian. If He Xuan hadn't loved his family, so much, he wouldn't have broken that hard after their deaths to lose himself to hatred and empty vengence.

Aaaaaand that concludes this essay. Keep in mind that this is a theory, and probably even isn't true, but if anybody wants a more detailed description of the guardian spirits, or to know more about the similarities between the mythical creatures of ancient china and tgcf, I will be more than happy to make a part 2.

Thanks for reading!!

#he xuan #tgcf #bai wuxiang #hua cheng #qi rong #four great calamities #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #black water submerging boats #black water sinking ships #night-touring green lantern #crimson rain sought flower #white-clothed calamity #shan hai jing #meta #tgcf meta

[catcze]

It’s Halloween soon, so here’s a Halloween au idea for you: Wriothesley and gn reader as Little red riding hood and the big bad wolf

OH. OH. OHHH IM BARKING BARKGIN ASDNASDKA

Imagine that it's supposed to be any other day for you. You pack your basket full of bread, jams, cold cuts and cheese, and don your red hood and your walking shoes, ready to set out to your friend Neuvillette's house by the lake in the forest. He's a bit of a recluse— he doesn't often venture into the city unless summoned directly, so you often come to say hello so he doesn't get too lonely.

The problem is, on your way there, you got delayed by a while. So when you get to the forest, you debate between using your usual, longer path that merely circles the forest, or one that pases directly though the woods. On your usual path, you'd get to Neuvillette's house late in the afternoon return home well in the evening. If you cut through the forest, though... you were certain you'd arrive on time. Earlier, even. So you gulp, steel yourself, and take your first step into the trees.

It's fine at first. A cooler walk than had you been under the sun, thanks to the shade of the leaves. But then you begin to hear the crunch of leaves behind you, as if there was something trailing behind... you quicken your pace, too fearful to look behind. But as you hurry your steps, so does the rustling and the crunching of leaves and twigs grow quicker as well.

Eventually, you're damn near running through the forest, taking turns, breathing hard and barely able to hold on to your basket. The steps follow you the until... they fall behind, then fade, then disappear. You quickly run behind a tree, leaning against it and catching your breath. When you peek out, you see there's nothing behind you and breathe a great big sigh of relief. Whatever animal was chasing you probably lost interest, you think, turning around and taking a few steps forward—

Then suddenly there's a grip on your hood, yanking you back so hard you stumble back onto the ground. "Hey—!" you yell, only to quiet when you realize who (or what) is standing before you. A man, quite tall, with spiky black hair and sharp blue eyes. There's a frown on his face and a furrow to his brow. Amidst the fluff of his hair, you make out... wolf ears? When you peek a little, you can see a similar wolf tail swinging behind him as well.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Is the first thing the wolf says to you, a brow raised as he crosses your arms. "Running all over the place, causing a ruckus. Not looking where you're stepping." His attitude immediately turns your fear into indignance, and you rise up, pointing a finger at his (admittedly rather sculpted, you can see the definition even though the top he wears) chest.

"You!" You yell, and the volume has his ears twitching. "You were the one chasing me? You gave me a heart attack!"

He snorts. "I was saving you, Red. Not every day a human wanders in here. Most of you fear the dark and the unknown too much to ever step foot in the woods."

"Oh, so scaring the shit out of me is saving me now?"

He rolls his eyes, crouching down to take a large, hefty stone in his hand. Lifting it like it weighs nothing, he tosses it at the place where your foot had almost been—

Snap!

You watch in horror as a rusted old animal trap snaps around the stone with such force that the metal contraption jumps. You gulp, just thinking of what could have happened to you.

"Those are everywhere," says the wolf by explanation, looking at the hunting trap with disgust. "Left a long, long time ago by crueler humans. We try to remove them where we can, but—" he shrugs, "—The forest is a big place."

You can't take your eyes away from the trap, feeling sick to your stomach. You clutch your hood closer to you, a safety blanket of sorts, and feel your hands tremble.

"Th... thank you," you tell him, sincerely.

He just shrugs again. "So. Why are you here? It's unlike you. You're usually seen on the human path, not passing through the forest."

And that snaps you back. You frantically check the contents of your basket, sighing when you see that nothing spilled or broke.

"I'm here because it was getting late and I have to see Neuvillette, so i thought i could take a shortcut" you say. Then your eyebrows furrow. " 'Usually?' " you echo.

"Humans aren't around here often, like I said. You're one of the few that come on a regular basis, though." He kicks away the trap with his foot, feet heading in one direction. You, however, stay rooted to your spot, watching the way his tail swishes as he walks. When he realizes you aren't following, he turns back.

"What, you wanna try getting around on your own? I thought you were late to see Neuvillette." He prompts, and you gasp, hastily bounding (and being careful of where you step, this time) up to his side. you both walk in pace, the wolf leading the way and you trailing slightly behind.

It's... odd. You've never even met him before, but there's something about him that makes you feel comfortable relying on him like this. Relying on him to get you where you need to go, and not lead you into another trap.

"So..." you attempt to ask. "You know Neuvillette?"

"For a similar reason to how we know of you. He's one of the few odd enough to set their place up somewhere like this," he says.

The rest of the trek through the woods is rather comfortably quiet, sometimes broken by you asking a question, and the wolf answering. You learn a few things about him: that he hasn't always been here, but that he came early in his childhood and lived here ever since. That he rather likes the sunshine. And, funny enough, that he also likes bread with honey and jam on it, if the way he took the symbol of your gratitude is any indication.

But eventually the trees give way and you can see Neuvillette's house in the distance. And you're right on time, too! You smile widely in delight, gripping your basket tighter. You turn to the wolf, who leans on the trunk of a tree leisurely, ears twitching atop his head.

"Thank you for saving me. And for showing me the way," you tell him, smiling gently.

The corners of his lips curl up, just a bit. "You're welcome. Be more careful when you walk through the woods, next time. You never know if there might actually be something out there trying to eat you."

You laugh, ducking your head to hide your face behind your hood, just a little. "Noted, mister wolf."

"Or better yet, you can just save us both the trouble and call for me if you want a shortcut," says the wolf, a large hand gently pushing at the small of your back, nudging you on your way. "I'll hear it, don't worry."

"Oh?" you ask, a quirk to your lips as you turn back at him, draped in shadows. "And what might your name be, big bad wolf?"

You see the gleam of his grin. "You can call me Wriothesley, Red."

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #wriothesley #genshin impact #MAN THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO B SHORT ?!?!?! #AND SOMEHOW AN IMAGINE BECAME THIS LONG WHATTT

[eskir]

dusk - sunday x gn!reader

warnings - nsfw, smut, dubcon, and slight yandere?

word count - 864

a/n | i have no clue what i'm doing with this tbh and i apologize if there are any mistakes. this is probably one of my first writing bits for him and my grammar is off, i will admit. was also unsure of whether to keep it in third person or second so i just choose the latter. no explicit details and the first paragraph was just me trying to get into the mood of writing. thanks for reading if you do! oh, also took some inspo from sleepingelvhen's and mimisplayground's posts. i am also so embarrassed by what i wrote at 11pm so take this fever dream.

He smiles down upon you, playing the role of an angel as he extends a hand, a helping hand, as if he had nothing to do with your current situation. As if he didn’t orchestrate it so that you would gratefully take his hand, run into his arms and cling onto him as if he was the only safe thing in your world. And Sunday relished feeling like he was the only thing that mattered. Even more, he loved controlling and twisting events and words so successfully to fulfill his own desires. Sunday loved that you never found out, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

He loved it when you were under him, panting with your face painted a deep shade of red. He enjoyed looking over you, touching you in places that he knew would elicit little sounds. Dragging his finger down your spine slowly, watching your back arch and not caring if you begged for him to hurry. ‘you want me to go faster? you’ll have to earn it,’ he’d whisper in your ears, his voice soft and a smile adorning his face that doesn’t reach his eyes.

He's ruthless, bringing you to the edge, watching you writhe underneath him with a coy smile. Sunday doesn’t do anything except continue, wearing you out. If small tears form, he'll wipe them away and coo at you in a sickly sweet way as he continues. He draws out begs and whines, almost pushing you over the edge until he stops suddenly, a pleasant smile on his face as if he had no clue what he just did. 

He'd make you beg even more, persuading, almost forcing, promises out of you. Making you swear that you'd never interact with those individuals again or that you'd stay by his side forever, whichever suited his mood. And if Sunday wasn’t in the mood to draw out promises? He'd tease you instead, maybe bringing out some toys with the promise of continuing if, and only if, you put it on. So you let him tie you up, placing a gag over your mouth and a blindfold over your eyes. Blind to both what's happening and the manipulation occurring.

And he wouldn’t stop once, he’d do it multiple times over the course of hours. Enjoying the way that you broke down, nearly begging for his touch. He'd find small things to critique you over, like the way that you talked to that one person for just a little bit too long, or the smile you flashed to the person that was obviously flirting with you. Sunday paints those events as things requiring punishment, and what better punishment than delay? After all, you wouldn’t ever want to experience what other punishment he has to offer, no?

The only thing stopping him from continuing this cycle is the exhaustion that he can see building up. Be that the way that your eyes start to close or the subtle shift in your tone, he notices it all. So finally he brings pushes you over the edge.

And at the end of it all, he’s barely tired. You can feel the way that your legs will barely function the next day, a numb jelly like feeling spreading throughout your body. But he doesn't, only watching and finding a certain amount of joy, knowing that you'll have to rely on him the next day. But it’s still nighttime, so he caresses your flushed face, tracing your cheekbones and jawline ever so softly. He takes note of the way your eyes close from exhaustion, wiping away sweat and drawing circles on your skin idly.

He doesn’t often take you this far, but today he didn’t feel like using honeyed words to keep you near. Instead, he now brushes his fingers over your body, a grin forming as you flinch and ultimately move into his touch. Sunday knows that you enjoyed his touches, no matter how little or tiring, still seeming to crave his love. So he uses it against you, under whatever righteous guise he chooses.

But as long as you remain devoted to him, like a worshipper to a god, he will stay patient, follow your whims, and be a 'good' person. As long as you were devoted, he would persuade you in the gentlest way, through soft touches and sweet words. Never mind his demeanor toward others.

So he picks up your tired body, pressing kisses to your forehead as he draws a bath. Letting you rest in warm water, he massages your head, soap bubbles forming. He scrubs your body, maybe a few teasing touches, but nothing more. Sunday understands that you're tired. 

After the bath, he bundles you up in blankets, preparing to clean himself as well. He does it quickly, not wanting to miss out a single moment with you. When he comes back, if you're still awake, he'll cuddle with you, kissing you more. If you try to kiss him back, he'll smile, shaking his head as he motions for you to go to sleep. So eventually you do, warm and comfortable, knowing that the next day will be decided based off of Sunday’s whims.

#what the hell did i just write #sunday #sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #smut #is this really smut? #hsr sunday smut #probably is smut #hsr smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #11pm writing hits different #i'm ignoring my 3am writing

[stareaterau]

Chapter 1 episode 2

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Let me introduce you to our cowboy, as he takes a trip

CW: injury and description of broken bones

Read below↓

Or AO3

A lonely cowboy trudges through the desert, bleary-eyed and hatless. His name is Jimmy.

He woke up not too long ago, face down in the sand and alone. The grains refuse to budge from their places buried between the colourful feathers on his face. With a sigh, he stops trying to scratch at the feathers to dislodge them, resigning himself to the permanent itch. It wouldn’t have helped for long anyways, the wind would soon blow more sand back into the gaps in his feathers, along with just about every other part of his lanky body. Jimmy coughs, dust coating the back of his throat. He pulls up his red bandana, from where it rests around his neck, to protect the lower half of his face. He’s not a stranger to waking up in the desert, it’s always been tempting for him to nap between the dunes, shielded from the winds and the distractions of Tumble Town. These are not those dunes. The land is flat, aside from a cracked layer of earth. The sun beats down on every surface, with next to no trees or bushes to offer much needed shade. Jimmy frowns, trying to recall the events that led him here. He must’ve fallen asleep on his horse and fallen off. He had been riding for a while… and it wouldn’t be the first time. Although, how he didn’t wake up when he fell is still a mystery to him. Maybe he fell head first. The horse must’ve wandered off while he was out… with all his belongings attached to their saddle.

And then there’s the beeping. It started off infrequently, only sounding every couple minutes. Jimmy thought he’d imagined it at first, that maybe he got heat stroke from sleeping under the sun for so long, but he reasoned that it’s far too consistent to be a hallucination. He’s not sure if that even makes sense, but it’s clearly speeding up and slowing down depending on the direction that he’s walking, so he’s sure that it’s leading him somewhere.

His running theory is that, somehow, the beeping is leading him to his horse, who, hopefully, has not managed to lose his stuff in the middle of this vast desert. Or, if not his horse, then whoever has found his belongings. If that’s the case, he hopes they’re friendly— he’s been robbed a few times and he’s not all that excited to add another experience to the list. Jimmy’s second, and just as unlikely, theory is that he’s being led towards water. That somehow he picked up some kind of water detector and managed to forget about it. He thinks this one might just be wishful thinking… or both of them may be.

There’s only one way to find out, and he’s familiar enough with this type of environment to know that meaningless wandering isn’t going to help him.

The beeping increases steadily the further he treks across the sands, dragging his sore, bird-like feet. The makeshift shoes he cut from an old pair of boots, so that they could fit, do a poor job of protecting him from the scorching earth. The more wiry trees and bushes cross his path, the more certain he becomes that he’s in a completely different desert than the one he calls home. He’s never been much of an expert in flora, but he knows he’s never seen these plants before. Their branches are thorny and muddy red, unlike the ones he’s used to. Hell, he doesn’t think he’s seen a single cactus. He probably would have tried to cut it down to see if it was edible if he had.

Despite the beeping leading Jimmy in a straight direction, he has to carefully wind his way through the desert, walking around the trenches that split the ground for miles. He almost broke his ankle in one of the shallower cracks earlier when he misjudged its depth. He pays more attention to them now, observing as they slowly grow deeper and wider, creating the chasms that lead on and on until into the dust clouds and heat waves.

Jimmy misses his hat. He will never again take its wide brim for granted, and how it blocked the harsh sun. His eyes hurt. He thought he’d have more time before the sun reached its peak, but the star moved much faster than expected. Jimmy is tempted to reason that the difference is because he’s on an entirely different planet, rather than just an unfamiliar part of the desert. A planet that rotates significantly faster than the one he calls home. But he’s not thinking that, because how could that even happen? How would he get back home? No, he lost track of time. He’s just been walking for longer than he thought. Jimmy has been living in the desert for years now, and has grown used to the heat— the feeling of feathers damp with sweat and covered in sand is a familiar sensation— but the temperature is starting to get to him. The lack of shade and water make it impossible to find a moment of relief.

The beeping grows faster, and he searches for a change in the landscape around him. The ground remains an empty plane, with nothing but the deep, wide fissures marking its surface. He’s starting to hope the beeping might be leading him to a settlement, rather than his horse. At least then he'll be able to get out of the sun.

Zoning back into the beeping, Jimmy realizes it’s slowed, a notable gap forming between each sound. Whatever he’s been walking towards must’ve changed directions, or maybe he just walked past it somehow. Looking around, nothing has changed. He hasn’t even seen animals skittering across the sand, no lizards— or alien lizard equivalents— basking under the hot sun. Trying to reorientate himself, Jimmy begins to test the beeps, listening for which directions make it speed up. But it keeps shifting. The beeping then speeds up to its fastest speed yet, the separate beeps bleeding into one sound before stopping completely, only for it to start up again a moment later. Maybe it’s leading him somewhere vertically? He looks up.

He starts walking, keeping his eyes on the sky, hoping it might reveal something new to him, but he foolishly loses track of the topography. Before he knows it, one foot sinks into unsteady ground, then the other finds nothing but air, and he’s falling.

Reflexively, he holds his arms in front of him, hoping helplessly that it will slow his plunge into the cavernous ravine.

An old reflex cries out. One long forgotten and useless. He tries to listen.

First there’s the hiss of sand, pattering over the surface below. Then a sickening crack as Jimmy lands on his outstretched arm. Pain shoots through his side.

He opens his mouth to yell, but he’s interrupted by another scream, next to him.

Scrambling to the wall and clutching his injured arm, Jimmy’s mind works on pure adrenaline as he tries to push through the pain, and wills his vision clear enough for him to see his new company.

The figure curled on the floor mirrors him, clutching their own arm to their chest.

Their body is covered in a light yellow fur, which darkens to a reddish brown at the tips of their limbs. Their fiery hair and tail flicker wildly with distress— a blazeborn. They’re wearing a torn sleeveless shirt, with a thick, dark coat tied around their waist. Why anyone would carry a coat like that out here, Jimmy cannot understand.

Their bright yellow eyes are wide like suns, shining right at Jimmy. They let out a quavery wheeze.

Jimmy shakes his head, fending off the delirium.

He coughs a pained, bitter laugh. His ribs ache. “...Hello?”

“Are you okay?” They manage back, looking and sounding like they’re in just as much pain as he is.

“Are you okay?” Jimmy nods pointedly to their broken arm. He can see its misshapen form from here. He doesn’t want to imagine what his own arm looks like.

The blazeborn shuffles tentatively towards him, making sure to not move their arm.

“I don't know- I don't know how it happened. You just fell and then I felt-”

Jimmy's eyes snap open with the realization. “Did I fall on you?! I’M SO SORRY!!”

“No no, you fell nowhere near me-” they shake their head, whining slightly, just as Jimmy feels a pulse of pain and bites back a wince himself.

With that, the look on their face morphs from concern to confusion. They shift closer to him, close enough that Jimmy can see the slight blue wisps in their warm flames. This might be the first time he’s been this close to a blazeborn. He always thought they’d give off more heat than this.

They don’t meet his gaze though, their attention directed elsewhere.

Gently, they pull their good arm from where it rests on their chest. Before Jimmy can question them, they tap his injured arm. A bolt of pain shoots through his body— he pulls back violently.

“OW!! THAT HURTS!” he yells, but his anger dissipates once he spots the blazeborn grimacing from their own pain. They blink rapidly, fighting through the daze. When it passes, they focus on Jimmy with an apologetic expression.

“This sounds crazy, but I think we're- connected.”

“What?! What are you on about?” Jimmy barks, confusion and pain leading easily into anger.

“Look, if I-”

Jimmy catches them by the wrist as they make another move to prod him.

“If you poke me one more time I swear-” Jimmy threatens in his best attempt at an authoritative tone, tightening his grip on their arm, challenging them.

They pause, considering him for a moment. Their eyes, without a trace of fear, flick down to Jimmy’s arm before returning to meet his gaze. They seem to be more intrigued than anything.

“Okay, okay, how about you poke me, then.” They direct his hand over to their injured arm.

"W-why?" Jimmy squawks, resisting.

“You'll feel the same thing. If my guess is right, at least.”

The way they laugh afterwards doesn't exactly fill Jimmy with much confidence. It reminds him of a mad scientist excited to test their hypothesis regardless of their questionable, painful methods. The logic makes his head spin; the stranger’s certainty is a jarring contrast. He feels like he’s out of the loop about something.

”....Okay. Are you sure?”

They grin wildly at him, their sharp teeth on full display.

“Go ahead, I'm giving you permission.”

“HM.” Jimmy hums with audible suspicion, baffled as to why someone would willingly feel that kind of pain. Stumped, he grants them their wish. As gently as he can, he pokes them.

His own arm blooms with pain. The same white hot pain. He pulls back, gasping, faint from the unexpected sting.

“What- WHAT THE HECK-'' Jimmy cries, hugging his arm closer to his chest. Nothing touched him, but that’s not how it felt. His poor arm pulses with pain, and he stares at the blazeborn.

They huff out a couple unsteady breaths, clearing their head before meeting Jimmy’s stricken look with another weak grin. How someone can smile in this situation is beyond Jimmy, and how this stranger’s grin grows wider with each passing second is completely unfathomable. Finally, they explode with laughter.

“AHAH- Welp, this is definitely a weird situation!”

“How-” Jimmy falters, his worry deepening. “Who are you?”

The blazeborn casually pushes themself up against the wall, sitting down next to him. They wipe the sand off their hand onto their coat.

“No idea, and the name’s Tango.”

He smiles up at Jimmy, more genuinely.

“…Jimmy.” He replies, finding the time to properly take in Tango’s appearance beyond the minimum.

Jimmy’s eyes flicker to something tied at the blazeborn’s waist. It was a pair of big, bulky boots. He watches Tango kick at the dust with his bare feet. No wonder he isn't wearing them. They look more suited to insulating the cold and snow, rather than the scorching heat of a desert.

An awkward silence falls over the two, both of them trying to process their situation, and grimacing internally from their pain. Jimmy rests his tail over his own feet, fanning the end towards him to battle the heat. He's not particularly sure what to say, especially to a stranger who is, by some unexplainable magic, connected to him. Fortunately for him, he doesn't have to go first.

“So, Jimmy… What got you here?” Tango breaks the silence.

“I fell.” He replies dumbly, not registering the question completely.

Tango spits out a laugh. “No, I mean- in this desert.”

Jimmy shrugs, recalling all he can. “I don't know… I don't remember.”

He’s beginning to accept that maybe his horse and all his belongings aren’t on this planet at all.

He yawns, “I was just following the beeps-”

His head slips against the wall behind him, neck lolling as a wave of exhaustion hits him.

“Hey, hey, buddy- stay awake for me.” Tango reaches over, snapping his good hand in front of Jimmy and chuckling nervously.

“Mmm… sorry.” Jimmy rubs his eyes, blinking blearily at the blazeborn. “What about you?”

“Pretty much the same.” Tango affirms. “I was following the beeps through the caves and ravines, and then I stumbled upon you- or more like, you stumbled and-” Tango gestures to the top of the ravine, reenacting Jimmy's fall with his hand, complete with cartoonish sound effects.

Jimmy, too worn down to feel insulted, just laughs.

“You think the beeping was leading us to the same thing?” He enquires.

“Probably- or probably to each other, actually. ‘cuz we're linked somehow!” Tango decides, seeming far more alert than Jimmy.

“Who… would do that? …why?” Jimmy asks hazily, stifling another yawn.

Tango lowers his gaze, brow furrowing. He doesn’t reply. Instead, he sinks deeper in thought, mumbling like he’s debating something in his mind.

Jimmy frowns as the moment stretches on, and opens his mouth to ask what's wrong, but Tango interrupts him.

“I think I might have an idea why I'm here.”

“Oh?” Jimmy tilts his head.

“You work with dodgy people, you get into dodgy situations.” He states bluntly, like it’s a matter of fact.

“You- you’re not a robber, are you? Or a murderer?!” Jimmy tenses, not-so-subtly shuffling away.

“Oh, no no- nothing scary,” Tango snorts, offering Jimmy a disarming wink.

Jimmy’s not convinced. He studies Tango wearily.

“I mean-” Tango elaborates, “I'm actually just an architect of sorts. That's not scary.”

“Could be!” Jimmy argues, “You could be making dungeons and torture chambers!”

Tango snaps his mouth shut with a squeak, a chuckle stuttering through his teeth.

"…yeeaah. Nothing like that." He assures vaguely, trying to emphasize his words carefully.

Jimmy squints at him, humming in agreement despite his suspicion. He goes to move so that he can face Tango straight on, but in the process, bumps his elbow into the stone wall.

Both Tango and Jimmy immediately curl into themselves. “Ah- ow ow ow ow.” They murmur in sync.

"Oh, yeah,” Tango wheezes breathlessly, “We should probably do something about these.”

Jimmy makes a small, sad noise to himself. He’s gone a long time without having to deal with a broken bone, and he had been hoping to keep it that way. He looks helplessly at his arm, and Tango follows his gaze.

“Can I see?” Tango asks, in the calmest voice he can muster, though the tension around his eyes betrays his own unease.

Jimmy just nods and moves closer, more carefully this time.

Tango leans over as Jimmy lifts his arm delicately.

“Hmm.” He ponders over the mangled limb. “Haha.” He concludes flatly, “It looks like we might have to set them.”

Jimmy pulls his arm back. “I don't want to do that. You know what, I always wanted a wonky arm, actually.”

“If it's any comfort, you won't be alone in the pain.” Tango tries with a weak smile.

Jimmy pouts. Conceding slightly, he asks “Are we going to do our arms at the same time?”

“Void, no.” Tango laughs dismissively. “That sounds like a horrible idea. The universe might just implode.”

“What?” Jimmy snaps, shooting Tango a concerned stare. Tango rolls his eyes.

“We'd most likely both feel twice as much pain, buddy. That's what I mean.”

Jimmy’s face tightens with anxiety, and he makes another move to scoot away.

“Hey, hey, wait.” Tango placates, looking around helplessly. Rummaging in his pocket, he pulls out two torn pieces of fabric. They look like they used to be the sleeves from his t-shirt.

Tango hands one to Jimmy. “Bite down on this?” He offers.

“Don't happen to have any form of painkillers, then?” Jimmy pipes uselessly.

Tango notices the way Jimmy eyes the dirty fabric. He shrugs apologetically.

“That's all I got, sorry.”

Jimmy sighs, willing himself to accept his fate, and clumsily folds the fabric with one hand. He tentatively places it in his mouth.

“So… who first?” He mumbles defeatedly through the fabric.

“Hmmm… you!”

Before Jimmy can process what’s happening, Tango snaps his arm back into place.

#stareater au #life series au #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #ranchers duo #cw injury #cw broken bones #team rancher #trafficblr

[cupids-chamber]

LEAVING LIPSTICK MARKS/STAINS ON THEM, that they don't notice until someone points them out..

GENDER NEUTRAL READER A/N: Don't simp at 3-4am darlings, it does things to you.. this is exhibit A.

IMAGINE leaving lipstick stains on RIDDLE'S neck, collarbone, or maybe on his uniform by accident, just imagine his flushed reaction as someone points it out, he didn't expect this to happen. He's probably to flustered, trying to figure out a reasonable excuse, but what was he going to say anyways, 'These lipstick stains are from a mosquito—', Heartslabyul isn't stupid nor naive, I can just imagine the sheer amount of teasing Riddle has to go through after this event.. he'd probably recheck his neck and certain parts of his uniform, before dressing for the day, from now on.. what's worse is that his dorm uniform is white, so it would be more than visible, no matter the shade of lipstick you choose to wear, hell is ace wanted, he'd probably be able to realize the slightly tinted shade of lip gloss, just so he could get back at Riddle a little bit, for all the he was collared previously.

OK, now the same concept but with VIL, he'd probably manage to notice the stains and lipstick marks beforehand, but what if he hadn't, maybe it's early morning.. maybe he's still finishing his routine.. or MAYBE... it's Rook who notices, think about it, what if you had left a mark, PERFECTLY hidden from view or public's gaze, somewhere only Vil would've noticed, like on his upper back, something that can be covered, yet Vil wouldn't notice unless he faced his back on something.. but if anything, ROOK WOULD NOTICE IT, the self proclaimed lover of all things beautiful, Rook with his observant nature and striking extinct would most certainly notice, and point it out to Vil.. and if only you were there to see Vil's perfectly composed face crack into that of embarrassment, as he made a quick, plausible excuse.. after all he wasn't an actor for nothing..

OK OK OK, this scenario with IDIA, oh my god.. think about his reaction, Idia wouldn't notice till someone on call points out a mark on his neck, and of course he uses it as an excuse to further keep his camera on.. only to find out.. it was a lipstick stain, oh his hair would be pink on it's corners as he'd most likely turn into a flustered mess.. I can see it now, Idia coming back on call trying his best to compose himself, a part of him didn't want to remove the mark..

MALLEUS, just.. imagine it, a tall, intimidating, powerful dragon, with a lipstick stain on his neck.. that Lilia would probably never point out, as he finds the ordeal priceless, and Sebek would literally be too stunned to speak.. Imagine the amount of SHEER CONFIDENCE, a typical Diasomnia student would have to gather, to face your beloved.. and point out the VERY OBVIOUS MARK. All I can imagine is Silver pointing it out, once he's awoken from his nap.. I can see Malleus getting flustered over this incident pretty easily, just flushing red and getting embarrassed, at least he's not in front of you like this, right now.. he didn't like the idea of you having the upper hand in teasing him this time around, Lilia will already bring this situation up for years to come.

And finally, SILVER.. He'd probably never notice, just falling asleep going about his day, and much like Malleus's dilemma, Lilia wouldn't point it out for Silver either preferring the teasing rights he'll get out of this afterwards. Silver probably finds out, when Sebek see's the stain and blurts it out with much of a thought, rather loudly mind you, thankfully no one was around.. and the two men just stared at each other awkwardly.. Thank God only Sebek saw him in such a dilemma.. he hopes.

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

#vil schoenheit x reader #vil #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia #idia x reader #idia shroud #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle #twst silver x reader #silver x reader #silver #twst silver #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst fluff #twisted wonderland imagines

[winterarmyy]

Behind The Facades | Part I

An unrequited pining over a certain super soldier.

Summary: In which Y/N is pining over Bucky while she watch him wrap his arms around someone else.

Navigation: Part I || Part II || Part III (end)

Words: 1.2k++

Pairings: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: angst. just pure angst and pain.

P/S: i'm feeling melancholy all of the sudden, therefore this idea was born. It's a very short one but I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Never let your true feelings show." was one and if not the most important lesson Y/N learned from where she was trained before becoming an agent under the avengers program.

It was so deeply etched within her very being, that the habit had became as natural as breathing the air into her lungs.

"Keep that mask on, and no one will be able ever break you." They said.

So, she did exactly that.

She giggled when Bucky told her about how he managed to make a fool of himself when he attempted to flirt a girl that he had fallen for at that bar he regularly went to.

He really shouldn't read those random top 10 pickuplines articles on Google anymore.

Tears were threaten to fall, as her shoulders shook in silent laughter, "Really, Barnes? I thought you were the ladies man back in the 40's"

"Exactly. 'Were' . Now, I am clearly not. Urghh, I can't believe I let that birdbrain convince me that these 'pickuplines' would do the trick."

Despite his gruff annoyance towards Sam, she could see a tinge of red shade on Bucky's cheek; probably feel embarrassed from what happened.

Gulping down whatever drink he had in his glass Bucky huffed, "Honestly, I don't think any sane person would even consider to approach me, let alone date me." His sharp gaze wavered into something more vulnerable.

Though he didn't mention anything about his history but when he shifted his view to the metal of his left hand, Y/N knew what he meant.

Y/N gaze softens, "I'm here with you. Am I not?" Her nails dug into the skin of her thighs as she held back from wanting to touch him, kiss him, hold him; to whisper sweet nothings in his ears in hopes that it would shut whatever doubts he has of himself even for just a moment.

There was a swift glaze over Bucky's eyes. As if he realized something but his words seems to deny his revelation, "I said 'sane person', Y/N."

Y/N gasped with an exaggerated perplex on her expression, "Sargent James Buchanan Barnes..." she purposely called him by his title, hoping it will remind him that he should have the reputation of a respectful man, "... are you accusing me of losing my sanity?"

Bucky shrugs with a face of pure innocence, "In this tower? We all are. But, especially you." a playful smirk tugged the corner of his lips as he waited to witness her reaction.

She stifled a laugh when she heard a knock on her door and then greeted by what looked like a mountain flower, and in between them was Bucky.

He had impulsively bought almost half a dozen bouquet of flowers because he couldn't decided which one of them is pretty enough for his date.

He shyly laughed it off when she told him "You could've face-timed me at the shop instead of ended up buying this much of flowers, Buck."

"God, you're right, doll. Why didn't I thought of that?" He frowned as he sighed.

"Because you're old and forgetful, that's why." Y/N teased as she leaned to the door frame, arms folded across her chest.

Bucky rolled his eyes before sending a glare towards her, "You're not going to stop mentioning my age in everything, are you?" he grumbled.

He might not know it but Y/N managed to noticed a tiny pout on his lips; something only, as they said, Steve can notice. That slight difference on his lowers lips; a very minimal protrude, barely noticable.

But secretly, she can see it too. And it was something she wished she could brag about, something she could tell the world; how lucky she was to be able to notice those little things about him.

She chuckled with an answer, "Never."

Another grumble escaped from Bucky somewhere behind the bouquets, before he presented a particular set towards Y/N, "Anyway, this is for you." He acts reluctant but she knew he was always sincere with actions.

Her eyes skimmed through the gorgeous arrangement of daisies; her favourite.

For a mere second, she let her heart flutter and a genuine smile bloomed on her lips; however the truth was not supposed to surface.

If Bucky was not blinded by the bouquet, he would've seen how the joyous glint her eyes faded even if her smile was still intact.

"Bribery is an act against the law, you do know that right, Sargent?" Nevertheless, her hands reached out to take the gift.

Bucky chuckled in response, "Yes, ma'am. I do."

She smiled when Bucky's love-struck gaze shines when he told her about his first kiss with that lucky lady, during one of those midnight coffee trips she share with him at the pantry.

He should've seen how beautiful he looked that night; free of worries and caught in pure joy.

"It was..." Bucky sighed in content; he was so happy he lost his words. As he tried to find the right description of the kiss, she could see his gaze softens.

Y/N knew he was recalling the kiss, but she couldn't help but to fall for him all over again; not that it's not a recurring event everyday but she really did felt as if her heart stopped for more than necessary.

'He's so happy.' She thought to herself. 'Then, I should be happy for him too'

So she did exactly how it supposed to be done.

"Mirror their feelings; that way your true feelings will never show."

Y/N did exactly that.

That one habit that had lead Y/N to countless of undercover missions.

The same missions that left Y/N with one of the highest rate of successful inflitration, unharmed.

And yet, the facade she wore seemed to failed her this time.

Why didn't work?

Why does it hurts?

The longer she kept the mask on, the more it burns from within.

"Keep that mask on, and no one will be able ever break you."

Then, why does her heart aches as if it was falling apart?

Y/N could feel how weak her knees were becoming, she had to lean on counter tops for support. The slow ballad filling the living room, leaking to the pantry from where she stood and watched.

Oh, she loved this song.

She wrapped her shivering hands around the warm cup of coffee that she made as she watched the couple danced. And the longer her longing gaze linger on Bucky, the blurrier her vision get.

"Y/N..." Natasha softly grazed the side of Y/N's arm. How could she not notice Natasha coming in. Must have been her widow effect.

"You're breaking, honey." Natasha was meaning to imply about Y/N's heart but she was so set on hiding her feelings she thought Natasha meant differently, "I know." She replied as she sipped on the warm drink.

Her facades are breaking.

Her hazy vision remained on the, now shadows of the dancing couple, "I will put up a new one." She didn't even notice how her own voice cracked.

Tears overflowed from the corner of her eyes, "Just let this one crumble." Her lips trembled as she told the truth, "Cause I don't think I can fix this."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I'm thinking to have more of this couple; should i do it? Any thoughts?

#winterarmyyfics #behind the facades au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky #bucky angst

[kazbrekkerscrutches]

Xavier Thorpe - Take my hands

Warnings: Mention of burial, dark humor(like at one place), overall fluff, scratches

Words: 1.8k

GN PRONOUNS

Trope/Context: Reader is antisocial, not related to Wednesday Addams, but is the MC (storyline modified), Childhood friends to lovers <3, slowburn (A/N: One of my favorite tropes lmao, enjoy!)

Black settled into my room. Not the usual morning sunshine.

Rain and clouds.

Ever since I got to this school, nature has been turning darker and darker everyday. My own room, shared with dear Enid feels even more hollow than usual.

“You have to wake up, Y/N!”

“Yes Enid, you could wake up the dead with that perfume you spray on everyday.” I replied snarky.

“Rude.” I watched her get out of the room after I took off the covers from me.

I liked her, maybe it was a secret to anyone in my life, but I do like her. She is nice. Probably the nicest person you could ever meet that doesn’t kill people for fun.

My visions have been more intense recently. Anything I touch makes me afraid that I will discover something about it. It is scary; that pleasant feeling of being touched by a live wire, but not every minute of everyday.

For some obscure reason, I could not get a certain person out of my head.

Not Enid, you may ask, but a certain seer.

Xavier.

It is not for the usual teenage gossip type of thinking. He is my prime suspect as of whom the beast may be. The Hyde. The hidden Jekyll.

Everything about his behaviour, timing, thinking seems to fit so perfectly. Too perfectly.

“Thing. Please write something to you know who. Don’t make it cheesy. Make it brief.”

I turned my head to look at Thing only to ear a thumbs up from him. Well, that may be good enough to talk to a hand.

As I walked to go to class, that darkness felt even more closer. Like it was following me from behind my back. It felt like a tick was tickling my brain, to try and tell me something.

I arrived in class, only to find Xavier sketching something in his book. I approached silently only to find him adding shading to a cello.

My cello.

My instrument.

My brain cannot deal with this right now.

“Hi Y/N, always a pleasure seeing you around.” Xavier turned around, offering me a warm smile. That turned something in a stomach. Good? Bad? Weird?

I’ll take weird.

“Felt inspired by my serenade?” I offered him my signature glare, looking over his shoulder to see his drawing.

“Truly inspiring.” He turned back to his drawing, leaving me behind him.

Those scratches on his neck, so curious. No wonder he is my primary subject.

“Stop glaring and sit down. I don’t bite.” He whispered. I snapped out of my mind, sat down besides him.

“I do like biting.” He looked up from his drawing, my Y/E/C eyes. His beautiful green eyes. He smirked a little bit before Ms. Thornhill started her class.

I don’t know what I was supposed to feel. How I was supposed to feel. Yes, he is my prime suspect but he saved me from Rowan. He was always somewhere, lurking in the shadows. My shadow not longer felt like one.

[Flashback]

“Help! Please someone help!” I heard screams coming from the casket. Hell, did that boy’s godmother come back from hell?

That thing did not sound like a women. More like a boy. I moved around the purgatory only to find a big red button with STOP on it.

“Ridiculous.”  I pressed on it; the coffin stopped its way into the pit of fire. I opened the coffin only to find the boy. We were supposed to play hide and seek.  

“What are you doing in here? This isn’t a place to hide” Xavier looked up at me with weary eyes.

“I thought it was original. Thank you though.” He got out of the coffin, still towering me with his height.

“You lost.” A smirk appeared on my face and we both walked away to back out there.   

[Present, time skip]

I was wondering where Xavier had run to. He always abandons me for some random artistic calling of his. Thing appeared before me, updating me with some desperate news.

He handed me the note I had mention to give to Xavier.

Awn, Y/N Y/L/N has feelings for me.

Cute, though I know Thing wrote that.

Meet me in the cabin. 9 p.m.

Xavier

Weirdly, I felt my heart beat way faster than it normally should. I feel ill, not in a pleasant way, terrible ill way.

“I will end you, Thing.” He apologized immensely before pointing to something around the place.

He pointed the note, which looked like it was covered in some kind of dust. I did not look like dry paint or led dust. Ashes. How thoughtful.

He must know that I am suspicious of him; that I think he is the Hyde.

The darkness settled again, as if it was telling me that I was wrong; that my track was far from where I was headed. I pushed it away, snapped a glace at my clock only to find the time running fast. 8:51 p.m.

I have to go. Hopefully I make it out alive, and sane.

[Xavier’s art studio]

I knocked two times.

I’m hilarious, I’m aware.

“My favorite dead body has arrived!” He almost screamed as he opened the door.

He was wearing a red shirt, hair still damp and sweatpants low on his hips. As much as I hated to admit it, he had some sort of effect on me. I suddenly felt hot, uncomfortable in my own skin. I almost felt a smile creep up on my face.

“Tad bit dramatic.” I snarked, passing through him and the door. “I hope those weren’t you godmother’s ashes you sent.” His clean and fresh scent filled my head. Comforting.

He turned to me, closing the door behind him. He leaned on the door frame, crossed his thin long arms around his chest.

“Maybe, maybe not.” He looked at me dead in the eye. “What did you want to talk about?” The paintings surrounding me were dark and were all filled with the Hyde’s face. I had never actually been in here before but he caught me trying to get in.

“What is it of the Hyde that captivates you so, Xavier?” I turned around every wall to have a better look at his artistry.  

“I keep having dreams about it. The only way I can get it out is by drawing it, even if it ends up with me getting scratched by my own drawing.” I snapped around to look at him rubbing his neck. There were three long scratches along it. I had noticed.

“Do they hurt?” Is a question I never thought I would’ve asked in my entire life. He tilted his head, approached me softly. He towered me even more than I would’ve thought.

He bent down to whisper in my ear. “Why aren’t you asking if I did this to myself?” He bent a little; looking at me dead in the eye.

“You have no reason to do this to yourself. I know you.” His gaze softened.

“You don’t think I’m the Hyde, then?” Shoot. He figured it out.

He stayed right where he was and I did not give him the satisfaction of fear or yet defeat in my eyes.

“Prove me you're not the Hyde, Xavier. Tell me I’m wrong.” I almost pleated, blinking endlessly.

“How can I prove this to you, Y/N? You are stubborn yet so deep into your theories.”

“Where were you when Eugene was attacked? If you tell me, you were here, and not wondering in the middle of the forest, I will believe you and drop this.” I sighted. “Please, tell me you weren’t out there.”

He stared almost blankly into my eyes. He stood up straight, passed his hands into his long hair and turned back to face me. “Take my hands, seek your answers.”

I could tell he was disappointed that I had asked him that. I dropped my bag on the floor, approaching him as slowly as he was.

His touch felt comforting and warm against my feverish skin. My head pulled back as I felt myself going under.

…

I woke up only to find Xavier hold me in his lap, passing his fingers in my hair softly, still holding one of my hands with his.

“Did you get your answers?” I nodded, proving to myself that he was not the Hyde.

“I’m… I’m sorry I doubted you. I shouldn’t have. You were the only person loyal to me, maybe except Thing.” I sat up from his lap, looking at him, both of us sitting on the floor of his Art space.

“Don’t be. We aren’t ten anymore. You know I’m innocent and I would’ve never, on my godmother’s grave have hurt all of those people and I think you may know that better than anyone.” Thunder roared behind us, I still felt his hand on mine but I did not pull away.

His Adam’s apple bobbed down a couple of times, as he looked at me deeply in the eyes.

“What did Thing tell you, in the note?” I nervously swallowed, his presence making me feel like a hormonal teenager.

“He told me that you, missy, have the biggest crush on me but is way too shy and antisocial to tell me. Is that true?” He tilted his head a little, making his hair brush his cheek.

I felt my own heart rush out of my chest. Thing was not lying.

“Thing isn’t lying.” I whispered lowly, tilting my head down. He reached his hand to tilt it back towards him.

As we were still close, he bent down to reach my ear, breathed in, and out making shivers run down my back.

“I hope you liked my godmother’s ashes or shall I say charcoal powder in the reply note.” He paused. I smirked slightly against his fiery skin.

“I like you too, Y/N.” He didn’t pull away but tilted my head once again towards him; making me look at his lips, green eyes, soft yet strong features.

I breathed shakily and leaned towards him. I felt his lips brush my own before he softly placed his lips upon mine. Electricity ran through me, with the satisfying after burn which was my heart heating up.

The darkness I had felt slowly pulled away, leaving my soul, and leaving at a certain state of peace.

His hand was soft against the skin of my cheeks, his lips soft yet delicate and passionate felt incredible on mine. He pulled away only to do it again, and again, and again.

I pulled away after a few second, feeling my heart flying like a hummingbird. “Not so bad?”

“Not bad at all, incredible if I must.” His gaze lightened, as he pulled me to kiss him again.

Two teenagers kissing on the floor of an art studio, two childhood best friends turned into…

Lovers.  

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe x you

[boyfiejay]

Next door hottie neighbour

PAIRING : nonidol! Sunghoon x gn Reader

GENRE : next door neighbour / hottie, bad boy x good girl (kind of)

Warning : reader is mentioned to be wearing a skirt, sunghoon can come off as too pushy but reader likes it (ig?), sunghoon has a bike🤩

Word Count : 0.8k

Author's note : this active era of sunghoon is making me feel very delusional and i really needed to let it out or i would simply combust, so here it is 😁 it isnt the new year for me yet so here is my last fic of this year. Happy new year to everyone! <3

Suddenly moving away from a place you've grown up at makes you feel very sad. A ton of memories left behind because your mom's boss thought transfering your mom from one branch of her company to the other would just be no hassle at all. Now, you and your dad can never survive without her and so the logical decision was to move away.

And unlike your parents, you were very excited for new things. It was not that they werent excited, but they were a lot more worried than they were excited.

The result of your mom's worries was that you would be going to give your neighbour an apple pie 'to get on their good side' as your mom claims. After her stumbling across the kitchen, getting mad at your dad for forgetting to buy certain stuff and making sure the pie looked absolutely perfect, you were on your way to deliver it to your new neighbour. (i mean youre new here but they're still new people to you..)

On the way to the house beside yours, you noticed a matte black bike standing in the doorway of said house. And one of the things you're obsessed to is pretty bikes (just anything pretty in general ) and you were definitely going to rant about this to your mom.

You knocked on the door, but what you were not expecting was for a half naked guy around your age to open the door. And he was so handsome.

Despite your face turning a concerning shade of red - because did you mention he had a such a toned torso? - you introduced yourself, "Hi. I just moved next door. My name is ___. Ni-" before you could even finish your sentence, your stupidly handsome neighbour cut you off with a teasing smile, "So you're the pretty girl from yestrday, huh?" he said, probably mentioning you moving your stuff. 

His eyes suddenly shifting lower noticing your ruffled skirt, okay maybe that wasnt a good idea but he wasn't looking at you in a creepy way so it was fine you thought.

Desperately trying to change the topic you said, "My mom made an apple pie and she wanted to share it with our new neighbours." You didn't mention his parents, incase he lived alone and you looked like an idiot. He muttered out a 'thank you' and took the pie from you. The whole atmosphere suddenly turning too awkward to bear.

In hopes of starting a conversation, you said, "Is that bike yours," he nodded, maybe you were also going to give him a lecture on how dangerous it is, "its so cool." Sunghoon was going to sound like such a loser but maybe it was because you are the first girl who had something good to say about his bike (his baby), or maybe the way your eyes twinkled when you looked at the bike and he knew you were being genuine with your compliment. Park Sunghoon wanted to kiss you so bad in that moment.

And he decide he was going to shoot his shot, and not care if he would appear desperate. You were too pretty to regret. 

Reluctantly looking away from your lips he said, "How rude of me. My name is Sunghoon. You're new in this area right? How about we hangout sometime? You know, so i can tell you who to avoid," he said taking a step closer to you, suddenly the distance between you two seeming too small for mere strangers, "and who you should be close to." he said, with that same teasing smile.

You felt like you were in a daze, his naked chest suddenly so close to your red face. You took a step back and realized a little too late that there was no ground beneath your feet. But just in time Sunghoon put his arms around your waist preventing you to fall flat on your ass.

"Careful there, we dont want you injured before the date, do we?" This guy and his smile were going to be the death of you.

"Huh? What... Date?" you asked, bewildered at what was unfolding.

"You heard me. Here-" he said, taking his hands off your waist (finally‼️) and handing you his phone, "put in your number."

Not knowing what to say, you wordlessly put in your number. Well what were you supposed to say? No?? To such a handsome guy?

You gave him back his phone and you saw him putting a little heart beside your name (this one ♡︎).

"See you then." he said, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

As you were walking back home and reached the gate of your house, you curiously looked to see if Sunghoon had went inside. But he was still there, half naked, leaning on the doorframe, holding the pie. With that damn smile.

Your face burning up again (it should be permanently red by now) as you almost ran to your front door.

Moving away wasn't such a hassle, especially if your neighbour was so hot.

Proceed to part 2 ?

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #Enha #enha fanfic #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon fanfiction #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagines #This took way too long #Mostly because i was thinking whether i should do it or not

[pandorasprongs]

CHAPTER ONE | nothing good starts in a getaway car.

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

SUMMARY: after attending the last richmond match of the season and being stranded in nelson road, reader has to hitch a ride with an old friend, jamie tartt.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: welcome to chapter one! the title of this makes it seem a little more dramatic than it actually is, but i just thought the lyric fit haha. hope you all enjoy!

“Oh my God, I really can’t believe it. AFC Richmond might actually make it back into the fucking Premier League!” Liv exclaimed, and you playfully rolled your eyes while putting on your shoes. “And I can’t believe my awesome boyfriend got us tickets to the finals!”

“What better way to spend the eve of our anniversary, yeah?” Freddie pulled his girlfriend into a side hug before helping her put on her jacket.

You hold back from smirking at the couple. If only your best friend knew what was about to go down, you'd probably go deaf from all the additional squealing. Even now, she was way too excited about the game to even notice how shaky her boyfriend was acting and the small bump on the left side of his jacket.

You never really liked watching football anymore, let alone going to games, but after Freddie told you a month ago about his plan, you just had to be there for his proposal. Well, possible proposal. The whole thing hinged on Richmond being promoted, so he needed at least a draw to get down on one knee. Of course, if the team lost, the two of you had already planned a backup proposal for their dinner tomorrow — which was the whole reason Freddie asked for your help in the first place.

You were so excited for the two of them, but it wasn’t enough to stop the pit in your stomach from forming. While you hadn’t been following football as much as you used to, you knew at least that Jamie was back at Richmond. You’d sometimes see your co-workers watching their games and praising the guy for being such a great player. They never asked you about your own thoughts cause they just assumed you didn’t know anything about the game, given you never talked about it. And that was good enough for you. But this was for Liv, and you’d do anything for that girl.

As you exit onto the sidewalk, Liv leans in to whisper, “Sorry about the shirt, by the way. It was the only one available at the stand. Apparently, there’s a surplus of Tartt shirts in stock.”

You had been friends with Liv since university when you became dormmates, so she knew about your former friendship with the player. Who else would know better than the girl who comforted you as you wept that night in your second year? But that was years ago, and you’ve been doing your best to put that in the past.

“It’s fine,” you laugh it off as you interlock your arm with hers. “It’s just a shirt, anyway. And not to mention, pretty low likelihood of him seeing me specifically in the crowd.” At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You weren’t exactly sure where in the stands your seats were, but even if you were right near the dugout, wearing this shirt meant you’d just blend in with the sea of red and blue. Plus, it was sunny out, so it was socially acceptable for you to wear shades to the game, too.

The three of you load into Frankie's car, with you in the back seat. During the ride, you started to tune out whatever the couple was talking about and mainly focused on trying to stop your legs from bouncing. You try and admire the surroundings, but you've lived in London for so long that the touristy effect has worn off. If anything, looking around Manchester would excite you more.

It was a short ride to Nelson Road, but there was still a hefty amount of walking given that cars weren't allowed past a certain point. You'd tried your best to get there as early as possible, but there was already a swarm of fans heading to the stadium.

You'd already claimed your tickets a few days ago, so you only had to push your way through the crowd once to get to your seats. Frankie managed to get tickets for the ones right behind the net, so you had a pretty good view of the game. If only that was all you were worrying about.

As you settle down in your seats, you try and shake it off. This isn't about Jamie; it hasn't been for years. You're here for Liv and Frankie, and that's all it was.

Though, after that terrible first half, you were wondering if the results would be too disappointing for the couple to even enjoy.

"What the actual fuck is going on with them?" You question as the teams return to their locker rooms.

Neither Liv nor Frankie gives you an answer, but the latter leans into you and whispers, "You double-checked the reservation for tomorrow, right?"

You sigh and nod your head. No matter the outcome, Liv was going to have a great proposal story, but wouldn't it be nice to tell everyone you got engaged at the same place and time as Richmond's promotion?

When the game starts again, you join the rest of the fans at the edge of their seat. Despite your efforts to distance yourself from the sport, — and in turn, Jamie — you couldn't deny the rush you got from watching it, especially in the stands. So when Sam Obisanya manages to score a goal, you're up with the rest of the crowd celebrating.

"Christ, I didn't realize you such were a big fan of Richmond," Frankie jokes, but you're quick to deny it.

"I'm not!" You cool down your tone when you see him widen his eyes and explain, "My formative years were spent in Manchester, so I know enough about football. Haven't been to a match in so long though," All of that was true, but you hold back from telling Frankie about your history with a certain player.

He seems satisfied with that answer and you go back to watching the match, your hands curling on the railing.

"Tartt is there. Is this the moment for Richmond?" You hear one of the sports commentators say and that gets all three of you out of the chair.

"Come on, Jamie." You whisper under your breath, and for a moment you forget everything that's happened between the two of you. He's just a football player and you're just a fan watching.

So when an opposing player tackles him, you're quick to shout, "Referee!" with the other people in your section.

"And it's a penalty!" You turn to Frankie and Liv as the crowd starts cheering, before turning your focus back to the teams getting ready. His cockiness wasn't always a good look, but it's kept him winning his entire career.

Jamie walks up to the net and you get the urge to keep your head low and avoid eye contact. But he hands the ball over to Dani Rojas, and so you look back up to watch the deciding goal, joining hands with Liv. You watch Dani mumble something under his breath before he kicks the ball right into the net.

"Richmond have done it!" You and Liv hug in celebration, but after a moment, you quickly separate. Your best friend keeps her eyes on you, but you watch as Frankie gets into position.

"You're gonna have another thing to celebrate." You say and before Liv can even give you a confused look, you turn her around to face her boyfriend, who is down on one knee.

Some of the other fans in your section started watching the proposal, with varying expressions. Some of your fellow hopeless romantics had a fond look on their faces, while the people who just wanted to watch a football game couldn't wait for it to be over so they could get back to celebrate in peace.

You knew Liv well, so it was no surprise when she started jumping up and down again, shouting "Yes!" repeatedly. You smile and let the couple have their moment before your best friend turns to you. "I can't believe you managed to hide this from me."

"I told you I was a good liar." You joke, then pull the two of them into a group hug. Now, today had two celebrations.

As the team headed back to their locker room and the crowd started to disperse, the three of you start heading back down Nelson Road to the car. You were lagging behind the couple and crowds of people around you made it harder and harder to keep up.

It's their special day anyway, you think, and once you manage to catch up to them, you say, "I'll find another way home! You guys enjoy yourselves,"

"You sure?" Frankie asks and you nod enthusiastically. The couple start walking to the car and you look around to find a shop to wait out the crowd in.

Luckily, there was a nice bakery on the other side of the road with a good number of people. You order a chocolate muffin and a caramel macchiato before settling down in one of the seats near the window. You decide to start booking a taxi now because judging by the crowd, it was going to take a few tries.

As expected, you managed to find a driver after twenty minutes. Most of the crowd had already left, so it would've been easy for you to find the car. Then, the driver canceled.

You went through that routine two more times till this point, where you were waiting outside for the fourth and final driver you booked. You were starting to regret letting Liv and Frankie go off on their own and promise that if they cancel again, you're walking.

When you hear someone call out your name, you sigh in relief till you realize that the map showed the taxi wasn't anywhere near Nelson Road yet. You turn to see Jamie Tartt peeking his head out of his car window. The look on his face is a mix of surprise and confusion.

Well, shit.

"Is that you?" His Mancunian accent catches you off guard after years of not visiting your childhood town.

"Hi, Jamie." Words you didn't expect to say ever again. You're not sure what else to say, especially since it's your first time seeing him since you were 19.

After a few more quiet moments, Jamie looks around the empty walkway before he asks, "You waiting for someone?"

"Yeah, I just," You glance back down at your phone to find the driver canceling on you once again. "Nope, the driver canceled for the fourth fucking time," you swear and instead of a sympathetic look from the footballer, he just laughs. 

Your expression morphs from disappointment to judgment, while Jamie remarks, "Christ, is your rating that bad?"

You roll your eyes. "Fuck off, will you?" You may have said it harsher than you intended. Well, that's on him for joking around like nothing ever happened. Not just that, but you were clearly not in the mood for it, especially from him.

You watch the footballer's expression falter but he quickly bounces back. "Deserved that." In more ways than one, you think to yourself. "But I didn't mean it like that. I probably have a shittier rating than you do after the times I've vomited in a taxi."

That makes you crack a smile, though you hide it from Jamie. He didn't need any more reason to think it was fine to joke around like you were seventeen again.

"Well, it was nice seeing you again, Jamie." You move to turn around and start walking home when he calls out to you again.

"D'you wanna ride? You always hated exercise, even walking." Jamie offers.

"Bold of you to assume I haven't changed in half a decade." You try and keep a straight face when turning to him, but you think about it. You squint at the accuracy and sigh. "Even if you're right. Thanks,"

You head to the passenger side and get in the car, and when you do, you encode your address in the GPS. As you lean towards the console, you can't stop yourself from tensing up. This is the closest you've been to Jamie in years. After, you tuck your hands under your thighs — a nervous habit of yours since childhood — as the car starts heading off Nelson Road.

The footballer notices this action but decided not to say anything. The fact he was even able to get you to accept his offer was a miracle in and of itself. He didn't want to make you more uncomfortable than you already were. He was just glad to see you again, after everything. 

Maybe he did come off a little strong earlier, and your response to his joke was warranted, but seeing you in a Richmond jersey — specifically his — brought him back to his teenage years, filled with happy memories with you. He almost completely forgot about how things actually ended between the two of you.

And when a Taylor Swift song starts playing in the car, you start to feel Jamie's eyes on you.

Nervous about his reason for staring and possibly crashing, you decide to ask, "What? Is there something on my face?" Your tone wasn't playful, but it wasn't hostile either. An apathetic sweet spot, you might call it, even if it's far from what you're actually feeling.

"No," Jamie answers quickly. "It's just... Taylor Swift," he nods towards the console. "You used to love her back then. Wouldn't let me get near the controls when a song of hers was playing, so you could sing along."

"Yeah," You start getting flashes of fond memories involving driving around town when you were bored on weekends, specifically, the time when Jamie officially got his license.

"Are we breaking the law?" You ask hesitantly, as you buckle your seatbelt. "You sure we're not gonna crash?"

"Hey! You're acting as if this is the first time I'm driving you." He protests and you shake your head.

"You picked me up from a failed date. We just drove home and even then, you almost drove off the road, didn't you?" You recount the memory.

Jamie scoffs. "In my defense, you asked me if I thought you were hot. Any guy would've lost control too!"

"Excuse me, I was very vulnerable that time because of stupid Tim. And, all I asked was if you thought I was attractive." You're practically gripping the seatbelt with your left hand, your knuckles turning white.

"Same thing," Your best friend rolls his eyes, but seeing as your nerves haven't subsided, he raises his right hand and promises, "I solemnly swear that I will not crash the car. If I do, (Y/N) will be permitted a lifetime of 'I told you so's,’ so help me God."

You try and act annoyed but you soon let out a chuckle. "Just drive the car, Jamie." As he backs out of the driveway, you turn on the radio, and just your luck, it's Taylor Swift's newest song.

"Christ," you hear Jamie mutter under his breath. Despite how he reacted, Jamie loved listening to you sing. Even if you only ever did it in front of him and your respective families. It always gets you into a good mood, even if you said it made you look goofy. He was just happy to see you like that.

You laugh at Jamie's supposed annoyance. "If you want me to calm down, you have to let me do this." You say, before breaking into song, matching the lyrics word for word.

You stop yourself from smiling at the memory when your chest starts to ache at the reminder of how things used to be. You quickly change the topic, pushing that flashback to the back of your mind. "I forgot to say, congrats on the promotion. It was a really good game, especially as a spectator."

"Yeah, thanks. The team really stepped up today," Jamie says, sounding like he's answering one of those after-match interview questions. It wasn't like before, when after every game, he'd recount every feeling and thought he had to you, mentioning even the smallest details like how blades of grass managed to get into his sock and he had to power through the inconvenience for the second half of the match.

"Thought you'd still be off celebrating with them. I mean, don't football teams usually go out for drinks after wins, especially promotions?" You point out, before turning to face Jamie for the first time. You realize how much he'd grown up since the last time you'd seen him. 

He changed his hair, you note. Well, it was closer to what it was before he joined the league. You always cringed when you saw his spiked-up hair from last season and even more so when you would see pictures of his fully slicked-down hair when he went back to Manchester City. It was the same kind of hair he had when the two of you were eight because his mom was always too scared that the loose strands would get in his eyes and he'd get into an accident.

This suited him, but you think a middle part would be better. You get the urge to reach out and move his hair around just to see how it would look, but Jamie's response snaps you back to reality.

"Yeah, we do. We're meeting up at a pub later tonight, but everyone wanted to head home first." He explains, and you turn back to the road. Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie sees you nod at his answer. 

There are a few moments of quiet silence before he finally asks. "Did you come to the game," to see me play? he almost adds before backtracking. "alone?"

You're slightly taken aback by the question, but when you remember how Jamie found you, — alone in the walkway, staring at your phone, — then it doesn't seem like such an obnoxious assumption.

"No, I went with my best friend and her boyfriend." Ten year old you would be heartbroken to hear you refer to someone else as your best friend, but that was the reality now. You explain your presence at the game, "He was planning to propose to her after the match, as long as you guys got promoted. So thanks for that."

"Oh, that was them?" He turns to face you as he stops at a red light, before expounding. "Dani and Sam saw it happen and mentioned it on the way back to the locker room. They were 'aww'ing the whole time."

"It was pretty cute," you add, smiling and remembering the feeling of witnessing it. "But honestly, I didn't really think it through 'cause then I would've had to third wheel them for dinner. Which isn't the first time, but newly engaged people can be so fucking horny."

You're not sure why you added that, but it causes Jamie to chuckle. "Guess you dodged a bullet there, yeah?"

"Yeah," you laugh as well until you remember you're supposed to be mad at Jamie. Your smile disappears quickly and you swallow the feeling.

Jamie watches your expression change, but he continues to drive until he finally has enough of it. This might be the last time he gets the chance to do it and he has been on a self-improvement kick these past few months. Might as well try and fix one of his oldest relationships. And if not fixed, at least improve it enough to let yourself laugh around him.

The car arrives in front of your building, but before you can leave, Jamie says your name. Softly, softer than his voice has been this whole ride, and you already know what's going to follow this.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for," Jamie pauses and swallows the lump in his throat. "That night. It was a real prick move, especially after I gho—"

"Jamie, can we not?" You interrupt him before you even comprehend the words coming out of your mouth. Jamie backs up slightly, taken aback by your statement, but he shuts his mouth.

You sigh and close your eyes for a second. You didn't realize how much harder it would be to actually confront him about it, despite your harshness towards him earlier for acting so chummy with you. Maybe Jamie was on to something, pretending as if nothing had changed. That you guys were just old friends who were catching up after ending on good terms.

And you thought you were ready. You've spent multiple nights imagining how it would be to hear him apologize, to talk about what an arse he was back then, and how he never meant to hurt you. You imagined slamming the door in his face, shutting him out, and hurting him in every way that he hurt you. But as you’re faced with it at this exact moment, the thought of going through all of that makes your chest heavy. Almost heavier than it was that night in the pub.

"Look, I'm sorry if I'm been weird this whole time." You start, shaking your head. "But you don't have to explain anything. Honestly. These past few years, I've just been trying to forget that night." And you. "Because if I did, then it wouldn't ruin all the memories we made as kids. So, let's just not talk about it, yeah?"

Jamie still seems to be processing your words, but you continue on and propose, "We can pretend the last time we saw each other was when I left for uni."

Dr. Sharon told Jamie that avoiding conflict will never actually solve it and he's tried to internalize that. That's part of the reason why he wanted to apologize. But at this point, if you didn't want to talk about it, he wasn't going to make you.

"Sure," he finally says and you feel your muscles relax. "If that's what you want."

Was it what you wanted? It was the easy way out, but easy wasn't always the best way. Then again, Jamie always brought out your less logical side, even after all this time. Maybe knowing that he was sorry was enough. And after the whole drive, you were starting to believe those articles that said Jamie Tartt was no longer the prick he was before.

"Okay then," you say. "Thanks for the ride. And uh, good night, Jamie." You smile at the footballer, a genuine one to try and convince him — and yourself — that all was well in the world again.

And maybe it was. At least, for now.

"Wait," You sense Jamie reaching out to you, but you turn before he can actually grasp at your shirt. "Could I have your new number?"

You hadn't actually changed your number since you were 15, but things seemed to be going well, so you decide not to mention it and type it into his phone.

"Thanks," Jamie flashes you a smile and your heart swells, just like it did when you two were kids. Maybe it was going to be okay.

"I guess, call me when you're missing an old friend," are your parting words with the footballer. You miss his reaction when you slide out of the car and walk into the building resisting the urge to look back at him.

A/N: yay, first chapter! just a warning, things are definitely not going to be resolved this easily.  this denial thing is actually gonna make it so much worse later on but! right now, things are looking up for reader and jamie. also, you'll find out about that night in future chapters hehe. :) i hope you guys liked it and stay tuned for chapter two!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt angst #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #it's nice to have a friend series

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Night Moves 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, stealing, crime, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Many might complain for the short attention span of the male kind, but you can't agree. In your experience, their lack of focus is a blessing, a profit even. You just need to show them something shiny and let them trip over themselves. So far, that's worked for you.

You giggle, certain to push your chest out just so as your latest mark tells a lame joke. He's kind of cute behind the frameless glasses and questionable choice in facial hair. Easy, is how you'd describe him best.

He reaches across the bar to slide the drink he bought for you closer. You wink at him and pick it up, pouting just so before sipping from the brim.

He watches your lip, hypnotised by your act, by you. You touch the front of his button-up shirt, ignoring the sweat stains under the arms. He nervous and jittery like a puppy. You put your drink down and lean closer on your stool.

"So, IT, sounds interesting. I'm no good with tech," you call over the music, running your hand up and down his lapel. "Do you do house calls?"

"Well, um, I work in an office, I don't... install," he stutters as you play with his top button, flicking it undone and giving an 'oops' expression. He doesn't fix it as you sit back and take another drink. "But if you need something done, I could probably, er, help.”

"Oh yeah, you're so sweet," you dab your mouth with your knuckles daintily, your third drink of the night hitting just right. "How has someone not snatched you up?"

"Uh," he chuckles and looks around, "really?"

"Sure, honey," you touch his collar again, "you're a cutie."

He turns red, a shade to match his garish satin shirt. You're not sure who suggested that but you've seen worse. You drain your glass and fan yourself in the heat of the club.

"Oh, no," you say dramatically, "Jamie, I gotta hit the ladies..."

"Uh, yeah, that's fine, but er, it's Jake, whatever, I'll be here," he grins.

"Amazing," you snatch up your clutch, "I'll be right back, kay, baby."

You pull him close as you hover on the edge of the stool and plant one right on his lips. He's too stunned to react as he lets you kiss him sloppily. You let your hand wander down and snake it around him. You squeeze his ass and purr before popping your mouth off his and dragging your hand away.

"Don't go flirting with other sluts," you hop down off the stool and strut away, sure to swing your hips to distract from the plastic against your palm.

You bring your hand up as you turn down the hall towards the bathroom and admire the golden lettering of his credit card. The dumbass didn't even bother to put it back in his wallet after buying you a cocktail. You roll your eyes and tuck it away in your purse.

You enter the bathroom and check your reflection. You daintily touch your lashes to fix them as two drunken girls argue over the next sink. Twins, huh? Don't see that every day.

Time for a new mission. You hike your tits up and turn to check out your ass. You're not vain but you work hard to maintain your figure. It's part of your work, you have to keep everything in tiptop shape.

You head back out, swaying to the music as you blend back into the crowd. You stop to dance on a few guys, sizing them up as you toy with them. There's only so much BO you can put up with, even if they have a black card.

As you scope out the room, your eye is caught by two watching eyes. Bold and blue and alluring. Attraction is less than intrinsic with these things but damn if this man isn't stunning. You smile at him, tilting your head coyly as you look away.

When you look back, he's still staring. You bite your lip and push away from the guy trying to hump your ass. Animals. Actually, animals have survival instincts, these idiots are all too hammered to smell a fire.

You weave through the crowd as you keep your sights on the man in-- Gucci. Ooo, big spender. The jacket is sleek and cut perfectly to his form. He's fucking hot. You wouldn't mind doing more than fishing in his pockets.

You near, a bit shy as you twist your hands together, leaning on one heel. You bat your lashes as he angles his jaw, "hey."

"Um, hope I'm not stepping on someone else's territory," you grip your clutch tight, "I mean, you're too cute to be here alone."

"I could say the same," he counters, his eyes flicking up and down your body. "Thirsty?"

"I'm a bit parched," you answer.

"After you," he waves towards the bar.

You glance over and see Jamie or whatever looking for you. You smile and smush your lips together, smearing the gloss around.

"Actually, the bar upstairs has better drinks. Doesn't cheap out on the liquor."

"Lead the way," he shrugs.

You push your shoulders up so your chest bounces just a little and you turn on your stilleto. You pass between the bodies as he stays close behind, his shadow looming in the flashing lights. You head upstairs, certain that he's getting a good view of your ass, he might even be able to tell that you have no panties on.

You get to the next floor and head to the bar. The burly blond recognise you and gives a smile as he approaches. The handsome stranger rests his hand on your lower back as he leans over the bar top. "Scotch, and whatever the lady likes."

You order another gin and tonic with lime. You turn to the man as you wait for your drink, his hand dragging to your hip and lingering there. You admire the way his shirt clings to his broad chest.

"You from the city or visiting?" You ask.

"I'm in and out," he says evasively, "do I get a name, beautiful?"

"Roxy," you offer your alias, "and you, sexy?"

"Nick," he answers and he reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out his wallet. He swipes his card as the bartender holds out the machine.

"Nick, I like that," you preen as he hands you your drink.

"Wanna sit down?" He asks.

You shrug and let him take you to a booth in the corner. You slide in close to him and set your drink down. He casually sips and stretches his arm over your shoulders. Okay, he means business. Maybe it's worth the long con.

"You come here a lot?" He asks as he leans in.

"When I'm bored. Unfortunately, I don't find much fun," you touch his thigh as you shift to face him, "maybe you can change that."

"Maybe," he rubs your shoulder as he draws you even closer, "you're walking around this place with your ass out... I might just have to put it to use."

You brush along his jaw and tilt your head to kiss him. You pull him into a deep embrace, running your hand up and down his chest as you moan into his mouth. He melts into you and you catch yourself doing the same.

Your hand wanders subtly across his jacket. You could probably get his wallet out right there, he has one of those ridiculously slim ones made of metal. Just a little–

His hand fists around yours as his lips part and he curls his arm tight around the back of your neck. You squeak, caught, and he presses his wet lips to your temple. You fucked up, you should've waited, you should've enjoyed that genuine bit of tension a little longer.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he growls.

#dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #the 355 #au #the club #drabble #series #night moves

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

oh my destiny, how far you have sprung now ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru gojo goes north.

word count; 5.3k

contents; satoru gojo, canon divergence, HEAVY jjk spoilers (for chapter 236!! but also kinda 237), fix-it fic, me coping w/ the manga for 5k words straight, canon-typical violence and death, implied stsg, probably non-canon compliant use of binding vows (but do i care? no), gojo satoru lives.

a/n; yeaaa this is literally just me coping <3 needed to write this for my mental health. he’s fine guys trust me

the experience is not altogether unfamiliar, on its own.

he’s felt it before. even now, he can still vividly recall it; a girl he failed to protect, a boy he failed to save. a man with a scar on his bottom lip.

that sickening numbness, as he lied in a pool of his own blood. sticking to his hair and tattered clothes, the colour red flooding his subconscious. that cold, cold sensation — a jarring shift, chilling and ruthless, going from everything to nothing. tiptoeing the line between life and death. 

emptiness. sinking deeper into the abyss, that all-enveloping darkness. that awful feeling of pure helplessness.

(he could never forget it.)

back then, though, gojo is certain he didn’t feel this way. all he could think about twelve years ago was survival — clinging to the weak flutter of his heart, a dying butterfly. clawing his way up to the skies. anything to escape that harrowing sensation, a kind of desperation all humans feel in the face of certain death, spurring him on. but now —

he almost welcomes it. nearly content in its approach. it should frighten him, but it doesn’t.

through half-lidded eyes, vision blurred by sweat and blood and dust, gojo watches the sky.

it's beautiful, he thinks. as beautiful as ever. peaceful, unchanging, soothing in an eerie kind of way. that clear blue, fading a little at the corners as his muddled mind grows just a little darker, a little more fatigued. he can barely gather the strength to keep his eyelids open. 

yet he keeps his gaze on that endless sky, as if it’s all he’s ever known.

with every passing second, the world grows just a little more blurry. pale dots spread around the corners of his vision, like grains of stardust in an ever-expanding cosmos, clouding his senses. there’s a buzzing in his head that won’t go away. everything looks as if it's spinning, and he can barely tell left from right, north from south. everything is growing darker, so fast that it’s alarming, and gojo can’t seem to even think clearly.

but he can still see that blue, blue sky. bluer than he ever remembers it being. even as snow begins to fall, descending upon shinjuku as if bidding him farewell. the sky takes on a gray hue, but that shade of blue is still all gojo can see, as he takes shallow breaths and half-heartedly attempts to remain conscious. willing himself not to give in just yet, choking on his own blood. 

and it's an odd feeling, really. one he never thought he'd meet again, but here it is, it's back — and it's all-consuming. beckoning him into a place he’s never been before. the unknown. 

it's not scary. gojo doesn’t think he has it in him to feel fear, anymore. but it's a strange sensation, as death kisses its way up his neck, sending shivers down his spine; as the numbness spreads, devouring him whole.

it’s unknown. thoroughly and wholly. and that unknown is overwhelming, all-encompassing, it’s all he can see before him, it's —

ah.

gojo takes a deep breath. the air burns his lungs.

everything's ending, isn't it?

it would be so easy. to simply close his eyes, let them flutter shut as that all-encompassing sensation takes him down to earth. to allow himself to simply rest, for a moment. wouldn’t that be nice?

it would be so easy.

gojo watches the sky. it's all he can do. 

the numbness keeps spreading throughout every cell of his body. he can barely feel the blood trickling down his chin, or the harsh bite of the winter cold, his skin buzzing with ache. he can't feel his arms or his legs, and he knows exactly why. everything in the world is closing in on him and god, he just feels so fucking tired.

ah. ah. more darkness. more numbness.

everything and nothing, all at once. slipping away into oblivion. the snow keeps falling but he can't see anything, can't hear anything, can't feel anything, anything at all.

nothing. nothing. less than nothing.

— and then, suddenly, an airport.

"yo."

gojo blinks.

a boy. a boy with black hair, tied into a small bun. a dead boy. his best friend.

suguru stands before him, and he looks exactly the same as gojo remembers. young, bright, with those awkward bangs still hanging over his face. grinning boyishly, and greeting him with youthful cheer. 

gojo feels young, too, he realizes — the weight on his shoulders a little less heavy, the familiar black of his sunglasses obscuring his vision. but he can still see the flicker of suguru’s cursed energy clear as day. as if it never left him.

feigning a mild displeasure, gojo makes a face. he hears himself speak, but his mind and six eyes continue to spin in circles, trying to comprehend the sight in front of him. trying to make it understandable, figure out what’s going on. 

but he doesn’t succeed. because it’s impossible to understand. and, really, that’s answer enough. 

huh.

so this is what the afterlife is like?

he inhales through his nose, basking in the clear air, and it doesn’t burn his lungs. his chest feels lighter than it’s been in years.

that seems a little too good to be true. 

"you’re kidding me. this sucks.”

suguru makes a kind of face like he’s pouting, plopping down in the seat right next to gojo’s. the white haired boy stretches his limbs out and huffs, pretending the sight in front of him doesn't send a tremor running through his very soul.

suguru continues to speak and gojo continues to listen, all while observing the scenery in front of him.

the airport looks familiar. through the glass windows he can see a glimmer of the blue sky, and a plane waiting to take flight into the clouds. the air smells of summer and jet fuel and new beginnings. it’s pleasantly cool, a light breeze caressing his skin and coaxing a hum from the confines of his throat. 

(he remembers this airport. remembers having his arms full of vending machine snacks, trailing after suguru as he dealt with all the annoying technicalities. amanai was there, too, watching a plane soar up into the sky with childlike wonder. a little anxious, as she boarded the plane to okinawa, and then back to tokyo.

her first and last flight.)

suguru is there, right next to him, and he’s speaking. breathing. like something out of a dream, the kind that always haunts gojo in his sleep.

he breathes in, and then out. 

suguru is there. and not just him – nanami and haibara are, too. all young, all dead. all somehow breathing; he sees them inhale and he sees them exhale. he hears them speak and it’s like nothing ever changed. 

they speak of regrets, of south and of north. nanami doesn’t seem to regret a single thing, and gojo is glad. even yaga is there, he notices belatedly. even amanai, and her maid, and a certain man with a scar on his bottom lip. everyone all together again.

the airport buzzes with warmth. nostalgia, as suguru’s laughter rings in his ears. and gojo grins, in tandem, bright and childlike. wallowing in the tender atmosphere. 

the sight in front of his eyes is perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect. a glimmer of spring, one he never quite managed to forget. a vibrant flicker of blue, one he thought he’d lost forever.

his one and only blue spring of youth, right in front of his all-seeing eyes.

a little too good to be true.

with a sigh, gojo stretches idly, smiling a little to himself. his joints don’t ache, his head isn’t buzzing with fatigue, and his heart feels lighter than it's been in recent memory. 

“now i’m hoping this isn’t a dream,” he hears himself mutter, allowing his eyes to flutter shut at last. he can still see suguru’s cursed energy, and everyone else’s. he isn’t alone. what a nice thought. 

and it’s strange, gojo thinks. it really is. he’s dead. sukuna killed him. he’s dead, his remains are lying somewhere in the streets of shinjuku, and that should bother him. he should be punching the floor and screaming, cursing sukuna’s name with every fiber of his being — it should frighten him, the realization that everything has ended.

but it doesn’t. 

gojo isn’t afraid. and he isn’t upset, either. he bears no grudge against anyone, just like that day twelve years ago.

he’s with suguru, now, and his juniors. his old teacher. the people he cares for are with him, and the airport smells so nice. everyone is young, and happy, and none of them will ever have to kill or be killed again. 

calling it anything less than heaven would be doing it a disservice. 

gojo smiles, exhaling a relieved breath. one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding til now, stuck in the back of his throat for the past decade. a tiny thought makes it to the forefront of his brain, like a spring breeze flitting in through an open window.

like this, he thinks, i could die with no regrets.

“— except that’s not true.” a voice proclaims. “is it?”

gojo opens his eyes.

suguru looks at him. everything goes silent. everyone else has already gone blurry, a little faded, as if they aren’t what’s really important. as if the entire world has narrowed down to just this; him, and suguru, in the corner of an airport too precious for words. that one decisive slice of heaven. 

suguru opens his mouth, and speaks, and his voice has a finality to it that fills gojo with a mellow kind of dread. 

they look into each other’s eyes, and both know what’s coming.

“the students are outclassed.” suguru rests his chin on the heel of his palm. ”you said it yourself — sukuna wasn’t giving it his all when he fought you. he still has more than a couple cards up his sleeve, doesn’t he? like his incarnation.”

gojo listens to suguru speak, not saying a word.

“they’re no match for him,” he continues, unperturbed. “all of them are going to die. every single one.”

suguru leans back in his chair, still looking straight into gojo’s eyes. seeing through him, gaze filled with a certain sharpness. a little cruel, but there’s a kindness there, too. as if he’s simply ripping the band-aid off, trying to make it as painless as possible. 

he clicks his tongue.

“and you still haven’t buried my body, either.”

a moment passes. then two.

gojo smiles to himself, rueful. a little saddened. 

“.. damn,” he grins, weakly. leaning back in his chair, slumping against the soft leather. “couldn’t you have kept indulging me for just a bit longer?”

suguru smiles. a soft thing, in the flicker of the light. a little too good to be true. “sorry,” he chimes. “but the plane is leaving soon.”

as if on cue, the pa system sounds.

flight to okinawa; departing in nineteen minutes.

“it hasn’t left, yet,” suguru hums, and it sounds like an inevitability. ringing in gojo’s ears. “you know what that means, don’t you?”

he does. he does, but it still hurts. gojo looks into suguru’s eyes, and sees himself reflected in them — young, transparent. blue. fading, but not quite faded. not quite dead.

and maybe it’s to be expected. maybe he was just trying to delude himself into believing the alternative, into believing that an afterlife as sweet as this could really be waiting for him. maybe it was naive, a childish fantasy. 

but still —

”haah.” a heavy exhale, fatigued. gojo slumps even further into his seat, squeezing his eyes shut. running a hand through the soft strands of his hair. ”oh, gimme a break. and here i thought i could finally relax for once.”

a chuckle flows from suguru’s lips, amused. ”you aren’t the type to go down like that,” he murmurs. ”c’mon, satoru. there are still things you need to do.”

”how?” gojo scoffs. ”i’m split in half. and i’m too exhausted to use my reverse cursed technique.”

”eh,” suguru shrugs. ”you’ll manage.”

gojo shoots him a dubious look. ”you’re acting like it’s a papercut,” he huffs, crossing his arms. ”my guts are on the fuckin’ pavement.”

”oh, quit your complaining already," suguru rolls his eyes, and shoots him an accusatory glance. "i died with a hole through my chest. at least your heart is still intact.”

”i wanted to make it painless for you!”

”well, it hurt like a bitch. so thanks for that.”

gojo pouts, fighting back a smile. he thinks suguru must be doing the same. and it’s juvenile, a little twisted — but then again, weren’t they always?

suguru cocks his head. beckoning gojo into taking action. ”you’ve still got some fight left in you,” he says, and there’s a fondness to it. ”you always do.”

”get up, satoru.”

silence. unbroken, unperturbed. if he focuses enough, he thinks he can hear the distant buzzing of cicadas, the crinkling of soda cans. the whistling of the wind. placebos; memories ghosting his subconscious. 

it’s quiet, for a while. gojo stares into space, blinking slowly. then he parts his lips.

”suguru.”

the boy in question turns towards him. but gojo looks up, instead — eyes set on the roof, like he’s trying to see beyond it. into the comfort of the blue sky. 

suguru hums, a cue for him to follow. and gojo closes his eyes.

”i think… i might be tired.”

silence. no one says a thing.

”i think i’d prefer to stay here,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. tapping his fingers on his knee. ”in the past, like this.”

the scent of jet fuel and summer lies heavy in the air. gojo inhales it, greedy. as if savouring it. trying to make it a part of his being, filling his lungs with sweet nostalgia so it never goes away.

”we could just stay here. together,” he muses, barely above a whisper. there’s a kind of longing to the tilt of his voice, something soft. ”couldn’t we? never moving forward, or back.”

the words taste salty, on his tongue. an ocean breeze. a whisper; ”we could just stay like this.”

suguru’s gaze trails from satoru, down to his lap. his bangs follow the slow movement, silky strands falling over his eye. the chuckle that drifts from his lips doesn’t have much humour to it. 

”haha… you’ve never been the type to stay in one place for too long, satoru.”

gojo clenches his fist.

a moment passes.

”you want me to go back,” he hears himself say, somewhat bitter. ”you want me to go back, and then what? there’s nothing i can do. i’m not the strongest, anymore.”

”you are.” suguru’s voice is firm, decisive. ”you can still win. you know exactly what you need to do. there’s only one way to get out of this.”

gojo sighs. one hand in his hair, tousling it. mildly frustrated. ”… it’s risky.”

”you’re bleeding out.”

”if i do this — i won’t ever be the same.” gojo turns to look at suguru. ”i sure as hell won’t be the strongest, anymore.”

”and would that be such a bad thing?”

silence. the two boys look at each other — one dead, one half-alive, both connected to the other. for eternity. suguru’s eyes are full of understanding, as they look into the blue of satoru’s. 

”there’s always been a gap between you and everyone else. that’s what you said, before. aren’t you tired of it?”

a brief intake of breath. gojo closes his eyes.

that’s right. that aching gap. the solitude that comes with absolute strength — a weight he’s borne all his life. doomed never to connect with others, never to be understood. doomed to always live in the sky, far away from the earth and the ocean.

the title of the strongest. a cross he alone had to bear.

(did he ever really want it? or was he just resigned to it, conditioned from the very beginning?)

the feeling of isolation that’s been haunting him for decades seeps into his skin. the cruel knowledge that no one will ever truly know him; even worse, the knowledge that it’s all for the best. you can admire a flower, and help it bloom, but you can’t ask it to understand you.

such a cruel curse to be born with.

suguru’s voice fills his mind, his senses. the flicker of his cursed energy is gentle, like an ocean wave rolling in right before the sun sets. ”you said it yourself, satoru.” gojo can hear the smile in his voice. ”you love everyone.”

love. it always comes down to that, doesn't it? the greatest curse of them all.

(but he could never bring himself to fully throw it away.)

”there are still people waiting for you, out there,” suguru reminds him. and gojo knows that he’s right.

he still hasn’t buried suguru’s body. that thing is still inside his head, doing god knows what. and his students — they must be fighting sukuna, right now. if he’s lucky, no one’s dead yet. if he’s lucky. then there’s shoko, of course. and ijichi, everyone else from the school.

not just that — the world itself is waiting on him. waiting for him to pass on, so it can crumble away. waiting for him to make it, so he can stitch it back together. 

dying isn’t a luxury satoru gojo can afford. he knows that, he does, but —

(dammit.)

”suguru,” he starts, hesitant. voice more feeble than he ever remembers it sounding. almost childlike, in its uncertainty. “what… should i do, from here on out?” a beat. ”where should i go?”

suguru raises a single eyebrow, and then tilts his head. ”do you really need me to tell you that?” he asks, a little teasing. gojo’s reply is instantaneous.

”i do.”

the airport falls silent, again. 

”i’ll listen to you,” he elaborates, tapping the edge of his chair, absentminded. eyes shining with a glimmer of something awfully tender. ”so… it has to be you.”

suguru inhales, softly — fresh air wafting through his transparent lungs. breathing out in a meek chuckle, with a soft shake of his head. almost in disbelief. ”well, in that case…”

a smile. he meets gojo’s gaze. ”then i think you should go north.”

gojo looks into his eyes. a moment passes, slow, detached from space and time. a moment that matters more than anything. their eyes meet, and in suguru’s eyes, gojo sees a reflection of their youth.

what a shame.

”alrighty, then.”

placing his palms on his knees, the white haired man gets up from his seat. stretching his arms with a soft groan. a sigh flows from his lips, drifting out into the clear air. 

”so much for finally getting a vacation,” he huffs, frowning as he casts a jealous glance at his best friend. ”you dead people have it easy, you know that?”

suguru’s still smiling, but he’s not getting up from his seat. the pa system sounds, again. a little louder this time.

flight to okinawa; departing in six minutes.

a deep breath. air flows into his lungs, and then back out; soaking up the summer air he knows he’ll never quite get a taste of again. no summer will ever feel as warm as this one did.

suguru stays right where he is. young, dead. smiling. the same smile he wore when gojo killed him, framed by the setting sun. the same kind of sunset that’s beginning to form outside the translucent windows of the airport, nostalgic and sweet, dyeing the clouds in a soft pinkish hue.

it’s breathtaking. 

”will i see you?” gojo asks, before he can stop himself. eyes still stuck to the setting sun. ”when everything ends.”

…

suguru chuckles, once more. rueful. gojo thinks it sounds just a bit meek, a little like he’s holding back tears. ”maybe,” he breathes, shrugging halfheartedly. not meeting his eyes. ”who knows?”

it’s not the answer gojo wants to hear. but he’ll take what he can get.

and finally, suguru gets up. slowly, methodically. elegant, in the way he moves, the way he brushes non-existent dust off his baggy pants. smiling, hair swaying softly with the breeze. gojo finds his gaze, and that smile shifts into a lazy grin. one so distinctly suguru that it can’t possibly be just a figment of his imagination. 

”don’t find out too soon,” he quips, teasingly. ”alright?”

a slap. gojo doesn’t see it coming, and it knocks him forward — he stumbles slightly, lanky legs moving clumsily, sunglasses falling off at the impact. his back stings, a little. 

over his shoulder, he looks back at suguru. the boy has a hand raised, and his grin is playful, brimming with warmth. except he’s no longer a boy — now he’s wearing traditional robes, hair much longer, face a little more hardened. but that grin is still the same as ever. gojo thinks he looks almost proud.

”go get ’em, satoru.”

gojo blinks.

the grin that breaks out across his lips, then, is wide. bright, brimming with youth, lighting up every corner of his face. almost overwhelmingly sweet. it envelops his very being, as he stands there, clad in his black compression shirt and baggy pants. hair a little less messy than it was in high school, face a little more hardened — but he hopes his grin, at least, looks the same as ever.

he turns his back on suguru, and puffs out his chest. trying to hide the sappy smile still lingering on his lips, the glassiness of his eyes. his voice comes out loud, cheery, echoing throughout the airport — but still somehow so tender.

”roger that!”

gojo looks ahead. the airport is blurred, a little hazy, but a bright light shines farther up ahead. a beacon for him to follow, one that blinds him if he looks at it for too long. blue, white, golden — the colours of the sky. beckoning him forward, to a familiar place.

he takes one step north.

”ah, satoru. one more thing.”

the sound of suguru’s voice stops him in his tracks. ”hm?” gojo turns on his heel, white hair tousled by the soft breeze. a little confused. ”what is it now?”

suguru grins. the whole airport smells like spring. 

”—, — —.”

…

one long, tender moment passes by. gojo doesn’t even breathe, mouth falling open slightly, in a way that must look comical to the man in front of him.

the airport glimmers like a marble in the sun. transparent, blurred, but still somehow so real. suguru’s words echo in his mind. 

then gojo laughs, the sound bubbling up from his throat like seafoam on a scorching summer day. hearty and deep, coaxed out from the very bottom of his gut — genuine. a little breathless. he can’t wipe away the grin on his face, wouldn’t do it even if he could. his blue eyes crinkle, as he looks at suguru, showing off his dimples and teeth.

”so corny,” he teases. suguru rolls his eyes.

”hey, don’t blame me. this is your imagination.”

a huff slips from his lips. ”yeah, yeah…” gojo waves him off. then he meets his eyes, again, still grinning boyishly. ”i’ll hold you to that, okay?”

”got it,” suguru chirps. ”good luck out there, satoru.”

”pssh. who do you think you’re talking to?”

the men exchange smiles, one final time. funny, how that’s always how their story ends; with a heartfelt smile. even if it’s coated in blood, or nothing more than a figment of their imagination.

then gojo turns around, again, and takes a step forward. not looking back this time. trusting suguru to still be there, watching over him. like always.

the bright light at the end of the airport glimmers, tantalizing, mesmerizing. suguru is right — there’s only one way to get out of this. only one way to make it back alive.

and it’s risky. very much so. it’s a gamble, the greatest one gojo’s ever made, even worse than that time twelve years ago with the reverse cursed technique. 

it’s a gamble, all or nothing.

binding vows are dangerous, fickle things. built on equivalent exchange. give something and get something, of equal value. sacrifice and gain. 

gojo’s thought about it, before. a morbid curiosity.

what could he possibly gain by offering the greatest treasure of the jujutsu world? 

he lifts one hand up, to caress his face. lingering over the skin of his eyelids, now closed. but he can still see the cursed energy around him. burned into his retinas. 

the six eyes. the blessing of sight.

a blessing. a blessing he never once asked for, one he was simply born with. born with all this power, doomed to live above the rest. all for a pair of eyes that never seem to see the things that really matter.

and, really, it’s a gamble.

gojo takes a deep breath, and then one large step forward.

(buddha left the royal life behind him at 29 years of age, he recalls. and then he sought out enlightenment.)

the light comes closer, and closer. lotus flowers bless his path. he takes seven steps forward, and his path blooms out before him; one flower blooming by his feet for every step he takes. seven steps north.

i’ll give you everything, he speaks to the someone watching the world. a god, a natural order, himself — it doesn’t really matter. i’ll give you all six. 

in exchange — 

the light is close, now. so close he can almost touch it. it burns his skin, but he doesn’t falter. he doesn’t look away, eyes seeing through the blindness and reaching out for something. something alive.

don’t let me die, he bargains. give me enough of it to kill him.

i still have things i need to do.

one more step, out of the airport —

(and satoru gojo makes a sacrifice.)

a binding vow is made.

the six eyes dissipate, like vapour drifting off into the darkness of a never-ending cosmos.

when gojo opens his eyes, he’s met with a cold, gray sky. 

the world shifts on its axis before him.

everything looks different. he can’t see, but he can, it’s just not the same as before. it’s naked, and raw, and surface-level. not enough to sink his teeth into.

he can still see cursed energy, feel the flicker of it all around him, but it’s hazy. it’s not clear enough, not enough for him to get a good grasp on — like the world lost its saturation. like everything got tilted slightly to the left. an eerie feeling that something isn’t as it should be.

and wow, okay. this is new.

but gojo parts his lips, weakly, and breathes in — and the air tastes the same as ever. cold, crispy. it fills his lungs and he exhales it through his nose. a human act. a breath of life.

i’m still alive.

it’s an odd feeling, like someone took a heavy weight off his shoulders. like someone stripped him of everything that makes him him. an strange sensation, heavy, entirely impossible to ignore. however —

the gain after the loss hits him almost immediately, embracing him with a burst of cursed energy so violently overwhelming that his sight becomes entirely irrelevant. it devours his very being.

everything becomes a blur. 

— i’ll give you everything. 

so, in exchange…

give me enough cursed energy to go on a good rampage.

the cursed energy within him spikes, so sudden and violent that gojo fears his skin might break open. buzzing like flies inside his veins, a vibrant burst of life, every colour in the universe. all the power one can expect from willingly casting away the greatest jewel of the jujutsu world.

gojo moves his fingers. he can feel them, finally — all limbs intact. positive cursed energy flows from his brain, no longer exhausted beyond comprehension. enough, more than enough to give him access to every possibility within his soul.

belatedly, he realizes that his sight isn’t the only thing that’s been weakened. the control he’s grown so used to having over his cursed energy is dwindling, and fast; that firm grip seems to have left with the six eyes, replaced by a set of shaky hands. gojo has experience, and for now, it’s enough. but he still has to concentrate to contain the nearly overwhelming flicker of his cursed energy, stinging his skin as if it can’t fully be contained by his body anymore. prickling his veins. it feels a little like trying to keep water from running through the gaps between your fingers. 

and he feels naked, in a way, suddenly living without something that defines his very being. a little hollowed out. a little wrong, like someone reached a hand through his ribs and pulled out his heart. 

but damn, does it feel good.

his cursed energy output is all-encompassing. his mind feels more clear than he ever remembers it being, and it’s like the world is at his fingertips. something similar to what he felt twelve years ago, but still so different. 

it isn’t ascension, not even close. quite the opposite. but that feeling of freedom is still so abundant. it’s all he can see before him; endless possibilities. 

twelve years ago, satoru gojo faced a certain man, and rose to the skies. he will never, ever forget it. that flicker of eternal solitude, the burst of overwhelming euphoria. that sense of everything being just right.

twelve years of living in the sky, and now his feet meet the ground, at last.

everything feels different. everything looks different. things won’t be the same, ever again — but maybe, suguru was right. maybe that’s not such an awful thing.

to be reborn. to be given a choice.

gojo opens his eyes, and finally takes in all the sights before him. everything happens in a blur, so fast he can barely catch up — his body acts before his mind, and suddenly he’s face to face with sukuna.

not megumi, but sukuna. fully incarnated.

and he looks displeased. almost frustrated.

”how?” 

the look of pure shock on his face is more satisfying than gojo could ever put into words; the satisfaction of seeing a king fall to his knees.

somewhere in the background, he thinks he hears a cacophony of voices, awfully familiar in a way that has warmth blooming in his chest. the students, he assumes — voices of shock, and something he tentatively recognizes as relief. but he doesn’t have the time to let his guard down, just yet.

(no matter how much he’d like to look back at them and give them a self-assured peace sign, bask in their smiling faces.)

instead, he answers sukuna. ”a binding vow,” he grins, and he thinks he must look a little manic, gesturing towards his eyes with his thumb. ”gave these puppies away. didn’t expect that, did’ya?”

sukuna looks at him, for a second.

then he laughs, loud and ugly, grotesque. taunting. he looks at gojo with something that almost resembles pity, something bordering on disappointment.

”pathetic,” he spits, all teeth. ”what good is living if it’s not at the top?”

gojo simply smiles.

he recalls that one question. eleven years ago, somewhere close to the ruins of the very street he’s standing in now. the question that flipped his entire world upside down.

(are you the strongest because you’re satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you’re the strongest?)

a grin breaks out across his lips. his cursed energy pulsates inside his veins, eager to be let loose, and he takes on a fighting stance. parting his lips to speak, unsure of whose question he’s answering.

”well, we’re about to find out.”

the sky is gray, grayer than ever. even so, all he can see is that familiar shade of blue. as clear as it’s always been, even without the six eyes. 

gojo smiles. 

just keep watching, suguru. 

this time, i definitely won’t lose.

#if gojo comes back at the cost of his six eyes i expect a personal letter from akutami #dont lose hope gojo nation has our man ever failed us before??? #im in so deep in my delusions that i dont even see them as delusional anymore im like yea he'll be fineee #its just a lil scratch!!!! #title taken from king oedipus... btw..... pls appreciate my commitment to the symbolism #cuz yknow. gouging your own eyes out as a symbol of your weakness and blindness to your destiny <333 yea. im normal abt this concept #i just think gojo is soooo protagonist of an ancient greek tragedy coded............. #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru angst #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jujutsu kaisen 236 #jjk 236 #satosugu #jjk 237 #jujutsu kaisen 237 #that should b all the tags.... #im not used to writing non-x reader stuff i feel so vulnerable and lost without that tag

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

How I long for the time, when your lips would kiss mine

Mihawk x reader.

Title is an excerpt from Blind and Frozen by Beast in Black (again).

This brief fic is the conclusion of a story that started with Built a haven for your love (until I let you fall apart) and continued with (and if nothing brings you back) Surely, I'll roam through life in black.

*****

Three months later.

You smile, more satisfied than greedy, as Vice-Admiral Garp slids a parcel across his desk, close enough to let you take it.

"Thirteen million berries, including the bounty you were owed since last year." he explains as you lift the parcel to stash it in your satchel, without bothering to open it to count the bills neatly stacked inside: you know you can trust the Navy - regarding the money you are due even if not about everything else "Don't take it the wrong way, (name), but I was surprised you had decided to take on this assignment: it is quite a bit below your usual level."

"I am aware. I have been... in poor health, which is why you haven't seen me in a while, and I wanted something simple to make sure I had gotten back to full fitness. From now on I'll be only taking on level three bounties, as usual."

Garp nods, promising to call you when your services will be required. "Got plans for tonight?" he idly adds, leaning back in his chair as he observes you rising from yours.

"I am flattered, Vice-Admiral, but I never mix business and pleasure."

"That was not what I meant. I was simply wondering if there was a reason why a certain man who never spends a minute more than he has to here at our HQ has been sitting in the waiting room for almost two hours twiddling his thumbs."

The mental image makes a smile blossom on your lips; you don't bother trying to deny it, since it would be clearly pointless. "Figuratively, I imagine."

"Probably. Still..."

"Still, thank you for your time. I'll see you soon, Vice-Admiral."

Garp laughs; he seems to find the whole matter highly amusing, which means it is probably a good thing he is discussing it with you and not with the other interested party.

"He was very worried about you; I could feel it in his voice." he suddenly adds, almost as an afterthought.

Mihawk is alone in the room most of your (less memorable, but still dear to your heart) meetings have taken place in, an half-empty glass of red wine in front of him. He is perfectly still, sitting and apparently lost in his thoughts, but the moment you appear at the door he turns to look at you, relief evident in his gaze... or maybe, just maybe, it is you who are able to perceive it.

A simple, inscrutable smile is the only answer he receives, and a moment later you have left his office and are walking down the corridor toward the room Garp mentioned.

"Hello."

He reaches you at the door a moment later, Yoru hanging from on his shoulders, and for a moment you remain face to face, silent as you simply relish being in each other's presence once more. His hand brushes against yours; holding back from hugging him is the hardest thing you have ever had to do.

You happily follow him when Mihawk suggests you go outside to talk, but once you have reached the plaza facing the Marine HQ neither feels the need to actually speak; night is falling, a beautiful sunset painting the sky of a hundred shades of red.

"Has your leg healed?" he asks after a while, as you unhurriedly walk down the pier, the salt-laden air making you feel at home; after all, you were born on an island.

"Perfectly, thank all the Gods. And I took down the pirate i was sent to kill in two days, which means I haven't gotten rusty despite fifteen months of indolence." you happily inform him "I have started with something easy, so as not to overexert myself, but I am tired of sitting around doing nothing; I am ready to get back to business."

"That is good to hear."

You smile, finally taking his hand. "I have missed you." you murmur; it is easy, even pleasant, to utter those words, because no matter how usually strict Mihawk is in judging others, you know you don't need to hide from him, not even the most fragile, most painful part of you "I am so sorry I never called or wrote, I... I needed to be alone. To come to terms with what I had discovered."

"I know, (name). I am not crossed, and..."

"And?"

He sighs; for a moment you simply know he wants to ask whether those three months actually helped, if your heart healed along with your leg or the pain of knowing you will never be a mother, never raise the children you have wanted for nine years, is still part of you, slowly gnawing at your heart like waves gradually wearing away the sturdiest rock. If he did, you are not sure what answer you would give, because you don't have one for yourself. Rationally, you know the passing of time will help, at least a little, and since you have always thought suicide is not the answer you can't help moving on, or at least going on, by inertia if nothing else, and the occasional moment, hour, or even day, of sadness and complete despair doesn't prevent you from cherishing the small and great joys life still throws your way, from the gentle, protective hug of your mother to the pleasure of seeing your bullet, shot from half a mile away, hit the bullseye in the middle of the target's skull... to being finally back in the presence of the man you have never stopped thinking about, even though you had forbidden yourself from using him as an incentive to get back to what you had been. You don't want to be the sort of person who needs her loved one's affection to carry on; you want to be better than that, for yourself first of all and for him as well.

"It is good to see you." Mihawk says after a while; he can't read your mind (or at least, you have no reason to suspect he can; on the other hand, you wouldn't be too surprised...) but you could swear he knows what you are thinking, what you are feeling, or maybe he simply has the gift to say what the person in front of him needs to hear "I have missed you. Again."

"I'm sorry..."

"You don't need to apologize. I just meant..."

"I know, Mihawk. And... I feel the same."

Silence falls between the two of you, and while it is not uncomfortable or tense, as usual when you are with Mihawk, you perceive you can't simply enjoy it as you let time pass you by. You have already wasted so much of it, fifteen months after your first night together (a night thinking back to which makes you still shiver in such a pleasant way; a night that was the beginning of something marvelous, even if not what you hoped) and three after you had quietly confessed to each other you both wanted to be more than simple acquaintances and drinking buddies. You are still young, and rushing things rarely helps, at least when feelings are concerned; but as you said, you have been idle for so long, and you want, you need, to regain control of your life.

"A new restaurant has just opened not far from here; it is pretty good, I am told." you mention after a moment, suddenly thinking back to Garp's conjectures "Would you let me buy you dinner?"

Mihawk grimaces. "I'd be more than happy to dine with you, but you have to let me take the bill."

"I have earned thirteen million berries twenty minutes ago. I think I can afford a dinner for two." you point out, relieved that scowl was not due to the prospect of spending the evening with you.

"That changes nothing. I would have imagined a noblewoman would have been keen on respecting traditions."

You smile; Gods, you are so happy to see him your heart is singing. "Then..." you begin, lowering your voice to an intimate murmur as you take both of his hands in yours, the distance between your bodies reduced to a breath "What if I let you pay for the dinner, and then I take care of dessert? In my inn room?"

Mihawk sighs, his usual serious demeanor betraying his actual feelings: amusement, and relief, and desire. "I suppose an after-dinner drink wouldn't hurt."

"Great."

He kisses you - on the forehead, since you're still in public; when you raise your eyes to his, you can see him smile. "Let's go, then."

The descending night hides you in its dark mantle as you set off along the pier, your fingers still interwined.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Dracule Mihawk #Mihawk #Dracule Mihawk x reader #Mihawk x reader #Steven John Ward #Bellona's stuff

[crypticdesire]

you, me, and the sea are meant to be

MINORS DNI

dom amab reader x yandere!mermaid rook (around 3.5k words)

cw: rook is a little insane, yandere behavior, almost causes reader to drown, rook has an ovipositor and cloaca, ovipositioning, mention of baby trapping, face fucking, ...mmmm i think thats all....

You couldn’t decide if it was a good idea to come out here today. Wind mixed with briny mist causes your shirt to billow out away from your skin, and your pants slowly become damp from the cool wet rock you’re sitting on. Despite this you can’t help but enjoy looking out across the ocean on an overcast day, the muted grey tones of the sky and sea lulling you into a state of serenity.

Though there are some certain shades of vibrant colors you wouldn’t mind seeing. You stare intently at the water directly below you lapping gently against the low sides of the rock, a growing temptation to dip your feet into the water. It would no doubt be cold and you might get sick, but ever since you met them it was like the water was calling out to you.

Growing up on the hill above this rocky shore, you had spent plenty of time playing in the ocean, but now when the salty water met your skin it felt like you were being wrapped in some form of mystic energy. You liked to think that the sea acknowledged your presence and somehow made them aware of it too, although you were sure it was a foolish thought you should never voice to anyone else. Still, you find yourself allowing the small waves to lightly splash against your shins as you sway your feet in the murky water below you.

After a while goosebumps cover your skin, and you decide it’s probably time to accept they won’t be here today, and make the trek back up the steep rocky path that almost no one but yourself found worth the trouble to use to access a shore that seemed to be more rock than sand.

Just in time to stop you, however, something grabs your ankles causing your heart to leap out of your chest, half of a scream stuck as a lump in your throat.

Damn it. You should have gotten used to this by now, but at least your reactions aren’t as dramatic as they were before. You don’t even pull your feet out of the water as the hold on you is released, waiting for Rook’s head to pop out of the water. He was the only one out of the three that ever tried to catch you off guard like this, claiming it was a great source of amusement. And just like usual he has a coy smile on his face when he surfaces.

“Oh, mon joyau terrestre. I told you to always be prepared for the unexpected when you venture into our murky depths, non?” He casually adjusts the wet strands of his bangs before resting his elbows on the rock you sit on. His vibrant tail with a mix of purple and red scales bobs on the surface of the water, a tug of awe still pulling at you despite how many times you’ve seen it.

“It is really unexpected if you do it every time?”

“Perhaps not, and yet you still make yourself vulnerable every time” His sigh is not one of curiosity or disappointment but fondness. When you ask him about Vil and Epel, his smile remains but his eyes slightly narrow.

“My beauty isn’t enough to satiate you, mon joyau terrestre?” He rests his head on one of his hands, batting his pale lashes that still have small droplets of water on them.

“You know your company is always enough for me” You nudge his bare shoulder with your knee. “I was just wondering if I should expect someone else since you’re always the first to arrive”

“Maybe I just can’t break the cold surface of the water fast enough to feel the warm embrace of your smile” He gives you a toothy grin, a smile filled with more sharp teeth than you ever thought a mermaid would have. Rook let your curious fingers touch them once, maybe a little too eagerly, and you found them to be razor sharp just like the talons on his hands. Natural features for an omnivorous creature that lived in the depths of the ocean where they weren’t at the top of the food chain they assured you. But something was alluring about the juxtaposition between their delicate beauty and threatening features. A tingle went through you each time your skin was touched by one of Rook’s talons.

As if noticing where your attention has gone, Rook adds to his poetic words. “And scope out any threats of course”

Looking at him, it was hard to believe anything would faze him; however, from what they’ve told you their habit is to always avoid the dangers of land and its humans. Why they chose to continually interact with you is a question that goes unanswered. Migrating to your tiny corner of the world every summer maybe meant they didn’t fear a person they perhaps watched as a child stumble on the rocks and talk to any little creatures they came across. You met them as an adult a year ago, but Rook always talked like he already knew you.

“But to answer your question, the others won’t be joining us today. Vil has some matters to attend to, and Epel has been dragged along with him as punishment for going into the waters of the snatchers” You know he’s talking about the area the local fisherman frequent. “Just insists on staying in trouble I suppose” he sighs insincerely.

“I came today to give you something” he continues, taking a chain off his neck you didn’t notice before. As he pulls it out of the water you see the gold chain holds a jewel in a deep shade of purple. You aren’t familiar enough with jewels to know what it is, but it’s in a beautiful teardrop shape.

After dropping it into your hand, Rook pulls himself up so he can sit on the rock beside you. He insists on putting it on for you, your eyes intently studying his blue ones as he does. His touch lingers at your neck, talon grazing your skin as he follows the chain from your neck to your chest. You try to subtly adjust yourself to hide the fact the tingle has traveled down below your waist as well.

“I like there being something close to you that makes you think of me. Something close to your heart…” he trails off voice sounding mesmerized as the back of his hand caresses the place over your heart. He stares at the spot with yearning, almost like he wants to caress your actual heart.

You two had undeniably gotten closer this summer, this not being the first time he has visited you alone. You’ve learned that mermaids’ forms of affection, even platonic affection, centered around physical touch. But Rook’s touch had begun to feel different at some point, something more intimate about it that too easily stirred a desire in you. Unable to resist these urges, one day you two crossed the line of what could be considered platonic and never had any regrets.

You expect him to kiss you now, but any evidence of lust is gone in an instant as his expression morphs into one of pure delight, asking you to swim with him. Despite your reservations about the cold water before, it takes little convincing from Rook to coax you out of your clothes and into the water. You remind yourself that the end of summer will come and so will your time with Rook. Of course, your undergarments don’t help keep you warm at all, but Rook’s playful nature distracts you just enough so you’re not unconformable as your body adjusts to the cooler temperature.

“I love watching you swim mon joyau terrestre! The rhythmic movement of your legs is so adorable” he gushes. He dips underwater, and you feel his fingertips caress the length of your leg, from ankle to upper thigh. You tense when that touch extends to your clothed cock, that tingling sensation returning. When Rook resurfaces, however, he doesn’t acknowledge the intimate touch and instead engages you in more of his games.

After a while you give your body a reprieve, the sea calm enough to float on your back. You bask in the peaceful quiet, your ears submerged underwater and Rook idly playing with your fingers. A muffled sound tells you he’s starting to say something so you ask him to repeat it, slightly turning your head so one ear is above the water.

“Que c’est beau” he says “It’s like you were meant for the ocean. Such a shame you need air and swimming is so exhausting for you. I wish you could stay in the sea swimming with me all day” he pouts.

“Even with my pruney fingers” you joke, waggling your wrinkled fingers in front of him.

“I’ll take you pruney fingers and all” he gently presses a kiss to each fingertip. “If you could, would you go with me? Let the ocean be your home?” You smile at the thought.

“It’s certainly appealing” you reply not wanting to dwell too long on the impossible.

“I want that.” His grip tightens on your hand. “I want it so bad” Not knowing what to say, you let the quiet return, both your ears back underwater. Rook’s hold is still tight but you don’t mind. You don’t mind that is until he uses it to drag you underwater.

At first, you think it’s one of his games aimed at getting you to start swimming, but his grip on your wrist is ironclad as he pulls you deeper than expected. You try to grasp his wrist with your other hand to let him know you want him to stop, but he doesn’t even look at you. You don’t know what his goal is, but the surprise dive gave you little time to fill your lungs with air, and you close your eyes struggling to hold your breath.

All of a sudden he stops and lets go of your wrist. You open your eyes again to reveal the blurry image of his face smiling back at you, the momentum of the dive causing you to bump into his chest. You point to the surface, indicating you need air, and begin to kick your legs, catching a glimpse of Rook’s smile morphing into a frown. You don’t make it very far, however, his hands grasping you again. This time, he wraps his arms around both your arms and torso, holding you close to his chest. You can feel him nuzzle his face into your neck, but your body has gone into survival mode and you struggle against him. With little control over your arms, you desperately kick your legs, feeling them make weak contact with his tail.

Panicking you forcibly bite down on his shoulder without thinking about the consequences, his surprise loosening his grip around you. You immediately push yourself away from him and try to ignore the burning sensation in your lungs as water enters them. You can’t gauge how far away you are from the surface, so you just continue swimming. Your thoughts become unclear, the pain in your chest ebbing away but hopefully, the movements of your legs haven’t slowed. If only you could reach the surface. Black spots float between you and the surface. You think you’re still swimming.

You feel slightly detached from your body, but you feel the cool sensation of air as your hand breaks through the surface. When your face surfaces you flap your arms wildly looking for something to hold on to, coughing and spluttering as you barely keep your face above water. Your limbs are growing heavier and you can feel your body giving out when a sudden force propels you out of the water. Your mind is slow to catch up, but a few moments later you feel the rough surface of a rock beneath you, your insides burning as you violently cough up water.

You feel weak. Your body. Your breathing. Your ability to think and process what happened. All weak.

Eyes closed, you try to focus on your breathing first, opening your eyes again when you have it steady. You’re only able to squint at first, your eyes stinging and sensitive to the light even with it being overcast, but you can eventually open them wider to see the blurry form of Rook sitting beside you. You expect yourself to have some kind of reaction. You still can’t think clearly, but he almost drowned you, right? Do you even let yourself think that he was trying to drown you?

If Rook sees that you’ve come to, he doesn’t acknowledge it, simply humming as he gently traces circles into your thighs with his fingertip. Your eyes drift to his shoulder, the place where you bit him already becoming a bruise.

“You-“ your voice comes out hoarse and can’t even say another word before you go into another coughing fit. It at least gets Rook to talk to you.

“That was unexpected, non?” he softly smiles. He waits patiently for you to respond.

“I could..” You take in a shallow breath. “..have died” Your voice is quiet, not holding any of the rage or fear that would be logical to feel.

“At least a dead body doesn’t need air” he giggles. Your chest becomes tight like it’s feeling with water again. You try to discern the emotion behind his eyes, but find that you’re unable to do so.

“Relax,” he squeezes your thigh affectionately. “I’m only joking. Of course, I prefer you alive. I get to enjoy you more that way. I thought about it and in the ocean, the skin of your dead body would peel away too quickly, and I’d hate to share pieces of you with bottom feeders.” His mirthful laughter can’t erase the truthful tone of his words.

“Plus, I’d miss the way your body reacts to my touch” he looks at you through his lashes, the fingertip that was formerly on your thigh now rubbing the length of your cock over your soaked underwear. You feel the slightest tingling sensation, but you’re not even sure you could get hard right now. But you also don’t ask Rook to stop.

“Are you in pain?” He questions, which is a question you have to take a moment to think about, still not feeling completely connected to your body. The worst feeling right now is the painful raw feeling inside your throat and nose from having the salt water in your body. Your limbs feel weak and heavy, but you’re sure the soreness will hit you with its full force tomorrow.

“Just a bit” you decide to answer, voice still raspy.

“Do you want me to make you feel better?” He teases the band of your underwear. The logical part of your mind, though still dull, is saying that you should get away from him as soon as you can, but could your weak body really make it up that steep hill right now? He did admit he prefers you alive, so you can’t be in danger anymore, right?

You end up nodding your head, and Rook beams at you, immediately moving to remove your underwear. You let him do all the work, of course, watching every movement of his hands as he tosses your underwear to the side and wraps them around your flaccid cock.

He lets his spit drop onto your tip, spreading it down your length as he strokes you. He kisses your tip before taking you into his mouth, making sounds of pleasure as he tries to take you fully into his mouth. He’s careful with his teeth, but you feel a gentle scrape on the underside of your dick occasionally, causing your thighs to tremble.

His tongue is warm as it roams your cock, and you can’t help but let out a moan of pleasure when he gives the same attention to your balls, sucking on them gently after he’s licked their surface. There’s the smallest tug in the pit of your stomach to let you know his ministrations are working. You even lift your hips a bit to push your cock deeper into his mouth when he takes it between his lips again. Spurred on by your actions and the potential of getting you hard, Rook pleasures you with more fervor, hands circling the base of your cock while he bobs his head taking the rest of you.

As you become more vocal, Rook becomes more sloppy, his drool coating your cock as he continues to suck you off. He whimpers when he feels your hand grasp his hair and tries to deep-throat you again. You attempt to thrust into his mouth again, but his lips leave you too soon, hand rubbing your tip again.

“Your mouth doesn’t deserve a break” you grunt using your grip on his damp hair to force him back down on your cock. You feel him moan around your cock as you bob his head up and down your length, and then you bury his face in your pubic hair as you try to hit the back of his throat. He doesn’t resist you so you continue to pull his head up a bit before roughly forcing it back down until he’s coughing and spluttering like you were earlier.

“I’m close,” you tell him when you let go of his hair.

“I want to taste you in my mouth” he pants, fondling your balls with one hand as he goes back down to swirl his tongue around your tip. He then takes your tip into his mouth sucking as he strokes your base with his hand, and it doesn’t take long for you to approach your climax, hand twisting itself back into Rook’s hair as you come into his mouth. He whines, sucking you harder, and he doesn’t take you out of his mouth until he’s sure you’re done.

“Mmm. I love the taste of you mon joyau terrestre” he looks almost delirious as he takes his thumb to push some cum that leaked out onto his bottom lip back into his mouth, eyes fluttering as he savors the taste.

“I can’t seem to control myself around you” he keens, laying down beside you, and you prop yourself up on your side so that you can watch his hands trail down his abdomen and go to the scales of his tail. His fingertips begin to gently massage his half-extended ovipositor. Adjacent to that is his slit, which you wouldn’t even know how to locate if it wasn’t for him showing you a couple of weeks ago. He let you slip your fingers into his squishy insides and explore his cloaca just as eagerly as he let you explore his teeth.

You trace your finger along the edge of the slit now, causing Rook to whimper and beg you to touch him. He whines as you dip your finger just over the edge, fingertips roaming his cloaca before teasing his entrance.

“Please” he begs again, still massaging his ovipositor and you push the tip of your finger in, watching Rook’s expression as his eyes roll backward in pleasure. You wiggle your finger in the wet warmth of his entrance just in the slightest to stretch him out a bit.

“Ah you feel perfect inside me” he praises as you continue stretching him. “I wish you could fertilize my eggs, so I know you’d have a reason to see me again. I need you to be here every migration season waiting for me” His tail squirms as you push the rest of your finger into him. He’s so wet now, that his insides make a squelching sound as you thrust two fingers into him.

The end of his tail firmly slaps the surface of the water a few times, back arching off the rock as he climaxes. You slip your fingers out of him as he quickly turns on his side and watch as he gasps in pleasure letting out a series of three eggs. After he’s done he gently caresses the eggs with his fingers, looking up at you with adoration.

“Que c’est beau” he smiles leaning forward to brush his nose against yours, and you hold your breath until he relaxes his forehead against yours. Heat rises to your cheeks at the intimate mermaid gesture he’s shown you before, that heat being one of a burning need to have more. He seems prepared for the moment when your lips meet his, tongue probing your mouth, movements much more natural to him now than the first time you kissed.

“I know you can’t fertilize these eggs,” he says sadly when you pull apart. “But you will always wait for me, non? I want you all for myself all the time, but the sea doesn’t seem to want to grant that wish." he sighs wistfully.

"The only way I leave you is if I know you’re always thinking of me. Promise you’ll never take that necklace off” his eyes shine with desperate need as he places a hand on your shoulder, talons slightly digging into your skin. You weren’t sure what your life would be like in a year, but given what happened earlier today there was only one right answer.

“I promise”

#twisted wonderland #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt #dom reader #cw oviposition #cw yandere

[thisisallthehattersfault]

The Sunshine Man has been with Luffy for as long as he can remember. So long, in fact, that Luffy has never thought to question where he came from, or where he goes when he’s gone. He is a fact of Luffy’s world, like the bugs that scuttle in the grass around Party’s Bar and the scent of salt off the ocean. As certain as the sun, there is The Sunshine Man.

He’s there when Luffy has bad dreams, singing without words or a voice to shape them, his fingers that aren’t fingers brushing through Luffy’s hair until the top of his head feels sun-warmed and he’s slipped back into sleep. He’s there when Luffy tumbles into the thorn bushes near Woop Slap’s house and gets covered in prickles, and he’s there when Luffy gets pinched really hard by a crab at the beach. He’s there when Makino has to work and Luffy can’t be in the bar and old Mrs. Kingston promised she’d watch him but she falls asleep on the couch and leaves Luffy all alone again like she always does. He’s there when Luffy can’t make friends and when his Gramps only spends three days in Foosha before leaving again (and when he spends all those days dragging Luffy up to the edge of the woods to make him fight Monkeys and then yelling at him when he loses).

When Luffy curls up in the back of the closet and buries his face in his knees and wonders if he disappeared how long it would take anyone to even notice, when Luffy cries and cries and can’t breathe and wants somebody to come hold him but Makino is busy and nobody else even cares and --

When Luffy needs him, The Sunshine Man is there. He doesn’t do much, really. He can’t talk to Luffy, because he doesn’t have a mouth, and he can’t give Luffy hugs, because he doesn’t have arms. But he is there and he loves Luffy like dawn loves the sleeping, and anyway it wouldn’t be fair to hold any of that stuff against him. He isn’t a real man, he is a man made of sunshine, and he keeps Luffy warm and chases away the shadows at night and is always there when Luffy feels like loneliness is a weight pressing down on his chest. Luffy loves The Sunshine Man with all his heart!

He tells him this sometimes, even though he knows The Sunshine Man already knows, because he likes to hear The Sunshine Man laugh. It isn’t a noise, and it doesn’t really come from The Sunshine Man. It’s like the whole world laughs for a minute, the sky bright and the waves frothing and the ground under Luffy’s feet bouncing-soft, trees reaching their branches down to cloak him in cool shade. The wind will tug playfully through Luffy’s hair, even if it was blowing the other way a second ago, and Luffy will laugh right along.

Luffy talks to Makino about The Sunshine Man sometimes. When she asks how he slept, he’ll tell her if The Sunshine Man came to sing to him. When she asks what he did that day, he’ll say The Sunshine Man came to walk along the beach with him, and helped him look for seashells. Makino says The Sunshine Man is Luffy’s imaginary friend, and Luffy figures that must be right. The Sunshine Man is not a real man, he is a man made of sunlight, and he lives inside Luffy’s mind. If Makino says that makes him imaginary, then she probably knows what she’s talking about.

When Luffy is six, the Red Hair Pirates come to Foosha. They don’t stay more than a few days before they leave for two weeks, but then they come back again. And again. Luffy likes the Red Hair Pirates. He likes Lucky Roux, who is always grinning and never shares his food but pretends he doesn’t notice when Luffy steals bites off his plate. He likes Yasopp, who tells him stories — mostly about his son Usopp, who’s about Luffy’s age. He likes Bonk Punch and Monster and the music they make.

He likes Shanks, even though Shanks picks on him all the time. He’s so cool, and he tells the best stories and he’s a real life pirate captain and Luffy is gonna be just like him when he grows up!

The Sunshine Man likes Shanks, too, Luffy thinks. It’s kind of hard to tell. The Sunshine Man doesn’t seem to really notice people most of the time, and when he does, it makes him really tired. Luffy knows The Sunshine Man likes Makino because one time when Luffy was really little a friend of hers went to sleep in the ground (died, but Luffy didn’t understand that at the time) and Makino was sad and tired for weeks, and The Sunshine Man went to sing to her one night the way he sang to Luffy.

She couldn’t hear him, because The Sunshine Man isn’t a real man, and he lives in Luffy’s mind, but The Sunshine Man sang without a voice or mouth, and he ran his fingers that aren’t fingers through Makino’s hair until the top of her head felt sun-warmed and she slipped back into sleep.

The Sunshine Man went away for a while after that, all curled up small in the back of Luffy’s mind like a little seed, but Makino was much happier the next morning, and The Sunshine Man came back after he’d gotten enough rest anyway.

The Sunshine Man doesn’t sing for Shanks or any of the other pirates, but he does pay attention to them like he doesn’t pay attention to anyone else. Luffy always knows the Red Force is coming into port hours before the ship can be spotted on the horizon, because The Sunshine Man can feel them coming. Luffy would go and see them anyway, but it’s fun, how The Sunshine Man flickers and glows in the back of his mind, urging him to run faster, faster.

Then comes the fruit.

Luffy can feel it coming closer, because The Sunshine Man can feel it coming closer. It starts as a restlessness in the middle of the night that has Luffy running in circles around his bedroom because he can’t sleep, and then by morning Luffy’s so excited his stomach is clenching. The Red Hair Pirates don’t even come into port until the next day, but Luffy spends that whole day and the following morning squirming with impatience and he doesn’t even really know why.

Shanks is bringing him something wonderful. Something that belongs to Luffy, and Luffy alone. It’s kind of a gift! Sort of. It’s not a gift from Shanks, because Shanks doesn’t know he’s bringing it to Luffy. It’s almost a gift from The Sunshine Man, sort of? But actually it already belongs to Luffy, so it can’t be a gift at all…

Luffy doesn’t understand, and The Sunshine Man can’t explain it because he can’t talk, but he doesn’t care because something amazing is coming Luffy’s way and he can’t wait!

When the Red Force does finally dock at Dawn Island, The Sunshine Man takes Luffy’s hand in his, and guides him through and around the crowd of pirates to a chest, and inside the chest is a round, dark fruit. It’s skin is the color of the sky right before dawn starts, blue-purple and hiding gold in the swirls. It gives under Luffy’s teeth like an apple, a crisp snap. It tastes...

Later, Luffy won’t remember what it tasted like. He’ll tell people it was gross, because Devil Fruit are yucky and so his Devil Fruit must have tasted yucky, and he won’t think about it any deeper than that.

In the moment, Luffy swallows bite after greedy, starving bite, and his mouth is full of citrus, tart and sweet. It tastes like oranges and star fruit and kiwi, and it drips juice down his chin and forearms that he chases with his mouth. There’s something almost savory to it, under the sweet and tart. Something rich and… coppery. The juice puddles on the floor, red and dark. The last few bites are warm and tender and pulsing under Luffy’s teeth.

Luffy forgets all about The Sunshine Man, after that.

#One Piece #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #Joyboy #Sun god nika #fanfiction #reincarnation au #wips #god AU

[mylenapony11]

Ok I have some brainrot that’s been eating away at me for a bit now.

So ima write what I think the Obey me characters taste and smell like. Minus Luke for taste. Cuz he’s our son. And that’s gross.

And when I say taste I mean kisses. Not anything else.

Edit: to see Luke check the reblog. Tumblr is being stupid

Lucifer

This man works very hard

Yet he does greatly care about his appearance

I think that Lucifer smells like smoke. Not in a bad way of course.

He spends so much time in his office, and I 100% believe he has a fire place in there.

His smell is probably comforting to a certain degree.

As for taste…

100% he tastes like demonous and really dark chocolate

I don’t think he’d eat milk chocolate

Mammon:

I’ll probably get some shade from this, but I think Mammon probably smells if cash and cigarettes. Maybe a bit of motor oil too.

I’m not saying it because I think he smokes, no

I’m saying this because I think he’s offer around people who smoke

I would think during his many, often, casino outings he plays with smokers

Perhaps people who smoke only to show their wealth

Or perhaps folks he owes money too.

And money has its own weird distinct scent.

The man might be broke 24/7 but I can almost guarantee he smells like cash.

As for taste, I’m not exactly sure how to describe it.

I think Mammon would taste cheap, but in a pleasant way.

Like how some convenience store food is just so comforting.

Like that

Leviathan:

I love Levi, and I don’t think he’d smell bad necessarily…..

But I don’t think he’d smell pleasant either.

Kind of an in between

A love it or hate it kind of sent.

Honestly I can see him smelling the most natural of everyone. Like maybe on occasion he’d put on perfume (anime themed of course) but very rarely.

I don’t think he’d put on scented deodorant or anything, instead opting for more scent less stuff.

Taste however

Bitch most certainly tastes like Cheetos, or some sort of chip. Also some soda

Think of Doritos and Mt. Dew Baja Blast

Like, this would most certainly be an o sticks for others.

I myself might not mind, but ugh it makes me shiver

Satan

He totally smells like old books

The amount of time he spends reading and looking through old books and stuff, the smell has definitely seeped into his clothing.

I personally enjoy the smell of books, be if new or old.

As for taste, it might not make much sense, but I think he’d taste like red wine.

I don’t think he really drinks like that, but it just makes sense to me.

Asmodeus:

His smell changes so often it’s overwhelming

Honestly he probably just smells overwhelming

I strongly believe that he naturally has a seductive scent, being the avatar of lust, but he also uses perfume.

I think those scents mixing creates a nauseatingly potent miasma that either smells really good to people, or it’s so overwhelming it makes you puke.

Think of going into a bath&bodyworks

As for taste, I’m not to sure. I originally wanted to say strawberry but I don’t think that’s correct.

My next thought was pink, but that’s not right either.

I believe Asmo tastes like cherries. Unexpected, but let me explain

To me, the taste of strawberries and the color pink are cutesy. That’s all they are. Cute, mellow, a shy chaste kiss on the cheek.

Cherry however is passionate to me. Sure of itself, assertive, yet so full of love.

A cherry kiss makes me think of a passionate meeting of lips, perhaps dipping the other.

A kiss that leaves you breathless and swooning

A kiss that isn’t just a kiss, but says so much.

A kiss that confesses a love so deep, it hurts.

Beelzebub

His scent changes based off what he’s doing.

Sometimes he’ll smell pretty “gross”, such as when he finished working out or playing a game and hasn’t showered yet.

But when he’s clean I believe he smells faintly of coconut and cucumbers.

The scent would be so so faint, but it’s there.

And I find that nice.

As for taste, I’m not to sure.

I don’t necessarily think Beel tastes good in all honesty. He eats so much, and so many different things.

Even things that aren’t food.

So I can’t say for sure with this.

Belphegor:

To say I dislike him would be accurate. I don’t particularly enjoy him. Amazing character, but if I was MC (so my personal MC lol) I wouldn’t be friends with him.

I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him.

But needless to say, I think he smells like cotton or something similar. Not washed linens, no no no

But definitely a soft smell that makes you think of a comfortable bed.

As for taste, I’m not to sure. I’m thinking blackberries

It’s a bitter berry, yet delicious all the same.

Kind of how I think the fandom sees Belphie.

Diavolo:

This will probably be an unpopular opinion

But I think Diavolo would smell like roses, specially the roses if the Devildom that grow in the palace gardens.

I would think he could have custom perfume made from it, and use it.

The smell would probably be pretty calming and comforting.

Something to try and offset how scary and intimidating he is.

As for taste, I think his taste is very mellow. Perhaps some sort of tea, like chamomile with honey.

Barbatos

He smells like clean laundry

I will not change my opinion on this.

He has to smell like clean laundry with a hint of lavender

There might be a bit of dust mixed in there, but not much.

As for taste, I know it would make sense for tea, but I think he tastes like macrons. Because macrons are his favorite food, or sweet at least.

I think he’d eat them whenever he could. Perhaps raspberry is his favorite flavour?

Simeon

Simeon almost certainly has a faint floral smell, though not of any specific flower.

It’s calm, and peaceful you know?

But not being able to pin what flower it is can elude to his shady nature.

I personally don’t believe Simeon is this pure, all forgiving, perfect being.

Honestly I think he’s on par with, or potentially worse than, the brothers.

But that’s what makes him so interesting.

For taste, this will make little to no sense.

I think he tastes like the sky. Just the vas openness, the clean blue, the freedom.

But perhaps I think that because loving Simeon is a sin.

Solomon

Another one that smells like smoke.

But his smoke is a little different.

It’s putrid in a way, hints of magic and ingredients lingering with the smoky smell.

He is a scientist to an extent, doing many experiments.

And those experiments don’t always work, sometimes they explode.

As much as I’d like to say he’d taste nice, I don’t think he does.

I can’t shake the feeling that Solomon tastes of newts and frogs.

See reblog for Luke, Tumblr won’t let me write for him here

See reblog

Character limit, see reblog

That’s why I can vividly see him running up and hugging MC, assaulting their nostrils with the smell of sugar, dust, and sunshine

Which is why I can vividly see him running up to hug me, and my nostrils are immediately assaulted with the smell of sugar, dust, and sunshine.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me Levi #obey me Satan #obey me Asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me Beelzebub #obey me Beel #obey me belphegor #obey me Belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me Simeon #obey me solomon #obey me Luke #lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #Levi x mc #Satan x mc #asmo x mc #beel x mc #belphie x mc #diavolo x mc #barbatos x mc #Simeon x mc #Solomon x mc #platonic Luke x mc