#⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ i don't want to think of anything else now that i thought of you [ answered ask.]

[antiquatedmagic]

“What are your thoughts on Aesop?”

@oldmaqic "my thoughts on aesop (@stillsails) ? hina, why are you---" oh heavens, as hard as she's trying to act nonchalant the redness of her face is giving her away. "i think he is a good man. he is intelligent, and kind and has always been respectful. is this what you meant?" dancing around questions has always been her strongest suit.

#oldmaqic #⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ i don't want to think of anything else now that i thought of you [ answered ask.]

[proudahgase-exol]

My pretty girl

Hyunjin x plus size! reader (fluff)

Summary: your Stray Kids makeup artist you are close to the boys but mostly Felix and Changbin they both know you have a massive crush on Hyunjin and they try to help you but you think he doesn’t like you like that and you feel like he will never like a girl that looks like you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　≫∘❀♡❀∘≪　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Your pov:

I have been working under jyp for a few years now I started as a makeup artist for twice then they moved me to Stray Kids. I became friends with all the boys but two of them were my best friends.

Changbin and Felix were my best friends out of the stray kids boys they were so sweet and kind always asking me if I wanted to hang out with them. One day I was doing Hyunjin’s makeup for an interview they had and I guess I was staring at Hyunjin a lot when it was Changbin’s turn to get his makeup done he told me what I was doing.

Binnie ended up telling Felix about my crush and they teamed up to tease me every chance they got they tried to make it obvious to Hyunjin but he was clueless.

As time passed they tried to help me confess my feelings to Hyunjin but I couldn’t not because I was shy but because I was scared of rejection.

I was a bigger girl I wasn’t skinny or fit and every time I tried to confess my feelings to someone they always rejected me because of my size.

I thought Hyunjin would be the same I mean he’s an idol he will go for a skinny girl over me but the boys try to tell me otherwise.

≫∘❀♡❀∘≪

Today Felix texted me asking if I wanted to go shopping with him and Binnie, and I agreed.

When we were at the mall the guys and I were having fun chatting and cracking jokes it was a good time until I saw Hyunjin at the mall with a girl they looked like they were on a date.

“Hey isn’t the Hyunjin over there?” I asked trying to hide my hurt

“Oh yeah I didn’t know he was gonna be here today,” Felix said feeling bad

“Hey how about we get out of here and go get ice cream” Changbin requested trying to change the subject

“Yea that sounds good,” I said taking Felix's arm and walking away

≫∘❀♡❀∘≪

When we got to the ice cream shop we ordered and took a seat and we chatted for a while we were having a good time until I asked them.

“Didn't I tell you guys that Hyunjin will never fall for a girl like me I mean look at me I'm not pretty or super skinny” I said looking down at my body

“Hey don't say that about yourself you are pretty in your way,” Changbin said

“He right plus we aren't sure he was with her for a date or if she was just a friend or something,” Felix said smiling down at me

“ maybe but still won’t change the fact that he might not be interested in me” I replied

“Hyunjin can be a bit awkward so sometimes he doesn’t know what to do or say, that’s why he may act like he doesn’t like you but I’m sure he does,” Changbin said

“How about I ask him what he thinks about you then if he likes you I’ll tell you than you confess,” Felix said looking between Changbin and I

“He’s gonna ask you why so what are you gonna say?” I asked him

“I’ll come up with something don’t worry” Felix replied smiling

After we finished our ice cream we left for our places when I got home I took a shower and watched a movie not feeling like doing anything else.

≫∘❀♡❀∘≪

Felix pov

When we got home I went to look for Hyunjin and found him in his bedroom so I walked and closed the door

“Hey we saw you at the mall with This girl is she your girlfriend?” I asked getting straight to the point

“No, she’s just a friend she wanted help to get a gift for her boyfriend why?” He asks sitting up on the bed

“Ah just curious hey um I have a few questions….. what do you think of y/n?” I ask seriously

“Well, she’s sweet, cute a bit shy around me why?” He said looking down at his his hand

“Well just curious so if you had the chance to date her would you?” I smiled

“What’s up with all this questions? What do you want to get at?” He asked getting curious

“Okay don’t tell her I told you but she has a big crush on you Changbin noticed the way she looked at you when she started working with us but the thing is she doesn’t want to confess out of fear or rejection” I replied smiling

“Why would she be afraid of rejection?” He asked looking up at me

“Well she’s Kind of insecure about her looks she thinks and I quote “an idol like Hyunjin will never like a girl like me I mean I’m not pretty enough or skinny enough I’m not like the girls he’s always around with” That’s why she’s scared of confessing to you,” I said after giving my best impression of y/n

“The girl is clueless I don’t care about her weight or if she’s not like those idols girls were always around she’s beautiful, sometimes I can’t look her in the eye without wanting to pull her in for a kiss,” he said blushing

“Wait you like her?” I asked confused

“Yeah since I first saw her when she used to do Twice’s makeup up,” he said smiling

“Wow, that long, and why didn’t you say anything or flirt with her?” I asked curiously

“Well I thought she was into Changbin since I always saw them laughing and whispering to each other,” he said

“Well now you know she likes you so what are you going to do about it?” I asked

“Well I will confront her about her insecurities than tell her I like her and not any other girl obviously,” he said happily

“Well good luck now I’ll be going bye,” I said walking out of his room

When I went to my room and sent a message to y/n letting her know that the girl we saw Hyunjin with at the mall was just a friend who had a boyfriend and didn’t say anything else so Hyunjin could get the chance to confess to her himself.

≫∘❀♡❀∘≪

Hyunjin pov

When Felix left I just stayed on my bed thinking of ways to confess to y/n I always wanted to do it but I thought she liked Changbin but now that I know that’s not the case I was confident enough to confess.

The next day we didn’t have anything planned nor did we have anything important planned for Wednesday and Thursday only dance practice so I knew I would not see her until Friday so I had more than enough time to prepare.

I didn’t know how I should tell her I had planned to ask her to meet me at the rooftop of the Jyp building on Friday after we had finished with our schedule I knew she always stayed later to clean up and prepare for the following day so I knew she would be at the building when the guys and I are done for the day.

I had asked Changbin to help me get y/n up to the rooftop I had prepared what I was going to tell her hopefully it’s enough to convince her of my love for her.

≫∘❀♡❀∘≪

When Friday arrived I was nervous the whole day and excited at the same time after so long I will finally confess to the girl who always made my days just by seeing her face or hearing her laugh I love the way Seungmin would crack jokes that made her laugh till she got red she truly is amazing and I couldn’t wait to tell her my feelings.

When it was time to meet her up at the rooftop I had asked Changbin to tell her to come up here and as I waited I was feeling nervous but confident I usually never talk to her unless is for work-related stuff few hellos here and there so I hope o don’t mess this up.

When she got here I was looking down at my phone and didn’t hear when she asked if anyone was there. I looked up put my phone away and replied back

“Um hello y/n,” I said awkwardly

“Oh hey Hyunjin did you ask to talk to me” she said shyly

“Yes I did um I- I don’t know where to start,” I said looking down at my feet

“Is everything okay did something happen are you okay?” She asked worried

“Oh yeah I’m okay I just want to tell you something important,” I said smiling

“Okay what’s up” she replied

“I’ll go straight to the point….. okay So Felix told me the other day that you have a crush on me and that you don’t think I would like you back but your wrong because I do I liked you I had a crush on you back when you used to work for Twice and when I heard that you will be working with us I got so happy but every time I try to talk to you I got shy than I thought you liked Changbin so that’s why I never showed any interest in you because I thought you don’t like me,” I said looking at her in the eyes

“Wait what you have a crush on me and for that long,” she said in disbelief

“Yeah sorry it took This long to confess” I replied smiling

“You like me it doesn’t bother you that I’m a bigger girl?” She asked looking at me

“I don’t know what size you are that’s the least of my worries I look at you and I see a sweet kind pretty girl that is friendly to everyone you are beautiful the way you are and to me, size doesn't matter you are the most Beautiful girl I ever meet,” I said blushing

“But why me I mean you are an idol you could have anybody why me what’s too attractive about me” she said still not believing my feelings

“I like you because you never treated me like an Idol you never hide your feelings you speak your mind, you are truthful and never sugarcoat anything your smart and funny,” I said putting her hand in mine

“You notice all that about me,” she asked smiling

“Of course I did you know, the highlight of my day is when I get to see my favorite pretty girl I love seeing your smile and your cute cheeks you make me smile every time I see you I always turn into a high school boy when I’m around you,” I said laughing

“Omg stop that you're making me blush,” she said covering her face with her free hand

“ y/n, I like you and if you could give me a chance to prove it to you I would like to make you mine and take you on so many dates and make you the happiest girl ever so will you be my girl my pretty girl?” I asked her looking down at her

“Oh my god I must be dreaming… y-yes I- oh god, “ she said smiling

“Good now let’s go get dinner what do you say” I ask pulling her towards me

“Yeah sure,” she said following me

After we left the rooftop I took her to my car and took us to a restaurant I knew she would like we ate and talked. I was so happy I had finally confessed now I’d go home and tell the boys that I was no longer single and that I finally had her.

After we ate and chatted I took her home said good night and drove back home I was so happy that I knew I wouldn’t sleep tonight I was scared that this was all a dream. When I got back home I texted her because I ready missed her.

My Pretty Girl ☺️😍

Me: hey🙈 …..

Y/n: hello missed me already? 😚

Me: yes I can’t believe you're mine

Y/n: me too I feel like I have been dreaming

Me: I know right by the way what are you doing tomorrow at 6?

Y/n: nothing i get off work early tomorrow since I only have to do Chipmunk’s makeup

Me: my omg you call him that 😂

Y/n: yes he asked me to call him by a cute nickname so I do 😂

Me: 😂😂

Me: I feel like we have been friends forever it’s so natural to talk to you I feel so comfortable talking to you

Y/n: me too I always feel comfortable being in your presence even if we don’t talk much

Me: I’m so glad I asked you out I won’t know what to do if I waited longer I have to make you mine 😅😅

Y/n: I’m glad you did I was too chicken to confess Felix tried to help me but I always chicken out last minute

Me: aw cutie 🤏🏻

Y/n: 🥲🫣

Me: it’s getting late go to sleep I’ll see you tomorrow for our date I’ll call you or text you so you can send me your address okay?

Y/n: okay can’t wait 🫠🤭

Me: good night pretty girl see you tomorrow 😘

Y/n: see you tomorrow handsome 😩💕

I turned my phone off and lay on my bed I was so happy and excited I couldn’t believe I asked her out I felt so happy as I started to fall asleep I couldn’t help but smile I was so excited for tomorrow I couldn’t wait to see my pretty girl again I was feeling like the luckiest guy ever.

I was supposed to post it on Thursday but a few things happened that I couldn’t but I finally got it done I’m sorry if it’s trash I low key hate it but I hope you like it :)

#stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz hwang hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n

[damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog]

Song of Crickets

AO3 Link

MC is having trouble sleeping

Ominis x fem!MC

SFW

Good ol' angst and comfort

Word count: 1,928

A/N: I wanted to polish this and post it during breaks while working on the bigger fic I'm finishing up atm. I was cleaning out my drafts and found this short, self-indulgent fluff thing that's been sitting mostly finished for a long time. Sorry if it's boring! I like it even if nobody else does :)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The sounds of night had once lulled MC to sleep, but that time was long gone. She used to be enchanted by the sounds of crickets and the distant cries of owls, but nighttime had become a harbinger of terror. She did everything in her power to put off sleeping until the wee hours of the morning when her body physically refused to continue on. Even when she did let sleep's grip pull her under, she would only last a few hours at a time. Her dreams were filled with visions of everything terrifying, violent and regrettable she had done that year to earn the regrettable nickname of "Hero of Hogwarts." Her waking hours were spent preparing for OWLs and drowning out her thoughts spending time with friends.

MC and Ominis had spent the entirety of their Friday evening together in the Room of Requirement. Their friends had invited them to the Three Broomsticks for butterbeers, but the pair had politely declined. MC and Ominis had scarcely gotten the chance to be a typical adolescent couple after everything that had happened in their fifth year of school. MC could think of nothing better than an evening spent in each other’s arms, kissing his perfect lips and talking about nothing in particular.

The late May air had drifted in through opened windows in the Room of Requirement for hours, and when the sun had fully set and the air turned chill, MC nestled into Ominis' side under his robe. As she listened to his voice echo in his chest while he described a particularly devious prank on Duncan Hobhouse, she felt at peace. The pair had enjoyed an evening of conversation and romance, talking about everything from their most embarrassing mistakes in class that year to what they wanted to do as adults. Ominis had reclined against the couch and pulled MC to his chest, arms around her lovingly as he reached one hand up to indolently run his fingers through her hair and kiss the crown of her head now and then.

As the evening drew to a close, Ominis rolled to lay MC gently on the couch, stood and stretched. "I suppose we ought to go back to the dormitories. I don't even want to know how late it is."

MC looked up at him and felt a tug in her throat. Her blissful thoughts evaporated as quickly as his warmth fading from her skin. "Just a while longer couldn't hurt, could it?"

Ominis chuckled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You've said that at least three times now, my little hummingbird. I adore spending time with you, but I’m very tired. Perhaps we should pick this up tomorrow morning. We can find more things to do, just you and I. What about a walk to Hogsmeade? I would love to find some sweets to buy for you, and I certainly wouldn't be opposed to a butterbeer or two."

MC stared off into nothing. Spending more time with him in the morning was exactly what she needed, but it was the interim that gave her distress.

When he didn't hear her say anything, Ominis grew concerned. "What is it, MC? Are you feeling all right?"

MC’s words became stuck in her throat and, knowing he could not actually see her, she shook her head as she sat up to draw her knees up to her chest.

Hearing nothing, Ominis reached a hand out and placed it on her head. "It's only a few hours. Surely you can wait that long," he said reassuringly as he ran his fingers over her soft hair. When he heard quiet sniffling, he froze. "MC, please, speak to me—did I say something wrong?"

"No," MC furiously wiped her tears away, embarrassed at her outburst. "You've done nothing wrong. I'm being selfish, and you already have so much on your mind... never you worry. I think Hogsmeade is a lovely idea."

Ominis sighed and sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms again. Her body went limp against his chest. "Please tell me what's on your mind. The others tell me you look as if you haven't been sleeping well lately. I thought you might just be anxious about your OWLs, but now I'm worried. You're never like this."

"It's just..." MC paused to sniffle, "I haven't been able to sleep properly for weeks now. It’s selfish, but I don't want this evening with you to end because I'll be alone again."

Ominis leaned back and held her by her shoulders. It was almost as if he was staring directly into her eyes, and it was utterly haunting. His face darkened with worry. "What happened to cause this? I might be able to pull some strings and get favors at St. Mungo's. If it's an illness or a curse, I would talk to them in a heartbeat for you and—MC, has someone hurt you? If someone has hurt you, I need to know. Merlin help the wretched soul who dares lay a hand on you and think they can get away with—"

"It's because of everything that’s happened," MC interrupted quietly. "Ranrok, Rookwood, even that slimy Harlow... and dear Sebastian, too. I'm terrified of being alone in Hogsmeade, especially near the wandmaker's shop. I can't stomach my memories of Rookwood... and the things I've seen—Merlin. Lodgok, the dozens of poachers I've simply extinguished without a second thought, the innocent victims of Ranrok... and Uncle Solomon."

"You should have told me." Ominis tried to admonish her, but the words came out as despair. "I care about you as much as life itself, and I think I ought to know things like this."

"But you seem to have taken things so well," MC mumbled. "I didn't want to bother you with my own troubles. Before tonight, we hadn't had a romantic moment together in so long. I didn't want to ruin our evening with something like that."

"Taken it well?" Ominis felt a twinge of frustration. "How could I have taken any of this well at all? I lost Solomon as well, and now that I've lost both Anne I might as well have lost Sebastian, too. He never speaks, barely attends classes... How could anyone take that well?"

His scolding surprised MC and, realizing she had ruined the end of their evening despite her best efforts by frustrating him, felt utter despair. In a selfish moment, she wished he could see the tears that welled in her eyes. She leaned forward and buried her face in Ominis' shoulder, gripping the back of his robe over his shoulder blades and letting loose sobs that shook her entire body as weeks of anguish, frustration and exhaustion finally boiled over. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

In a panic, Ominis immediately held her tight and rubbed her back, hushing her and rocking her gently. "It’s all right. Please, don’t worry. Just breathe.” With every shudder, every shake of her breath, he felt a sting of her pain. He held her head to his shoulder, tenderly pressing his lips into her hair. "You must be feeling tremendous stress. It has been difficult, hasn't it?" A lump formed in his throat so quickly, he could do little to stop his voice breaking. "Unbearably difficult."

The only other sound in the room to accompany MC’s tears was the dull thrum of crickets and the night breeze from outside, and Ominis suddenly felt as if they were both impossibly small against the rest of the world. He thought of the scriptorium, Aunt Noctua, the catacomb and losing the entire Sallow family in three separate, cruel ways. Neither he nor MC had been the same since winter, and he felt tears sting his own eyes. He melted into MC, holding her as if he might lose her, too. "I'm here. Please, you don't have to do this alone... I don't want either of us to be alone. Not after everything that’s happened to us.”

“All I seem to do is tempt danger and pain. There are so many people I couldn’t help, and now I see them every night. I’m scared that, eventually, I’ll fail you, too. I don’t want to only see you in my dreams.” MC’s tears began anew, unable to form words. Ominis gathered her up in his arms and pulled her onto his lap. He rested his chin on her head and noticed how small she felt, still shivering and crying.

“Hush, my darling,” Ominis whispered. “You don’t need to be perfect. Protecting others is noble—I admire you more than you could ever know for it—but please don’t throw your life away needlessly for it. Remember that I want to be with you, too. Were you suddenly not in it, my life would be little more than a pale shadow of what it is now. I promise you won't fail me like that. I need you.”

“I need you too,” MC’s voice quavered as she gripped the hem of his robe.

Even as their breathing eventually slowed and their trembling faded, his hold on her remained fast.

“I’m sorry you have to think about this too,” MC finally mumbled. “I know you suffer because of your family and everything that’s happened. I don’t want to burden you.”

Ominis squeezed her shoulder. “Please don’t hold these things inside you on my account. I love you, and while I wish the circumstances under which we met were better, you are a light in my life. You mean an indescribable amount to me. I would do anything if it meant you were happy.”

Ominis could feel the muscles in MC’s back begin to soften at his words, and her grip on his robe loosened. He traced a hand up the side of her face and lovingly swept away whatever tears he could find. She sighed deeply and held his hand in place.

“Shall I stay with you here tonight? I promise I’ll chase off any bad dreams I can,” he said with a small smile.

MC sniffled once more. “Only if you want to. I would feel terribly if you didn’t sleep as well here as in your own bed.”

“Something tells me I’ll sleep quite well with you next to me,” he smiled.

Slipping his hand away from her face, Ominis unclasped his robe and let it fall from his shoulders. He draped it over MC and she nestled into it instantly. His robe always smelled freshly laundered with hints of his cologne and the sweet skin she had kissed so many times. She stared off into the opposite corner of the Room as she listened to his heartbeat.

“Now please, lay your weary head to rest. I'll be here by your side the whole night through. I promise.”

Ominis guided MC to lie down on her side, and he followed close behind, pressing himself to her back and draping an arm over her.

“And if I wake you with one of my bad dreams?” MC asked hesitantly as she took his hand and held it in both of her own.

“Then I shall hold you and kiss you until you are asleep again,” Ominis replied matter-of-factly. “Tonight, you needn’t worry about frightening dreams. I am your protector.”

For the first time in many nights, MC felt sleep come to her peacefully and quietly. The songs of crickets lulled her as she listened to Ominis’ breathing become slow and steady, and she closed her eyes with the confidence that the two of them would be all right.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #Isabel Greymoore

[ametistacollinsworld]

☾ N x Nezuko like! Reader x Uzi 2 ☽

My 36 request! Hope you like!

•─────✧─────•

You were in the present time sitting on the floor, just silently watching as N and Uzi had a sentimental moment, gently playing with the edge of your [Formal Wear] that N had found especially for you.

" Anyway- Where is that thing?- The human?- " Uzi asks looking at N with a serious expression, which he smiles excitedly.

" They're over there! Look at them! Come here (Y/n)! " N exclaimed looking at you, soon giving a small wave for you to come closer. Uzi blinked, giving the two of you a questioning expression.

" How do you know their names if they don't even speak? Or did you just name them? " Uzi asked crossing her arms with a questioning expression, which made N laugh nervously.

" No, no! I.. just asked them to write in the snow Uzi! " N explained giving a smile, which Uzi snorted.

" That was smart, I guess… now let's go! We need to stop V's plans!" Uzi spoke slowly, soon changing to a determined tone. You and N nodded, now starting to follow the female drone through the walls of the colony.

Thus, the three of you soon arrived at the prom together, with Uzi unleashing her catchphrase making everyone look at you in fear or simply not giving a damn.

That way, Doll wasted no time impaling V and literally exploding anyone in her path, which made Uzi and N look confused and surprised.

" Holy crap, what is she doing? " Uzi asked with surprise and fear looking at N pointing to Doll.

" This wasn't exactly what I expected.. I think we should- " N spoke in a confused tone, only to be interrupted by Uzi snorting.

So you guys run to the stage, staying in front of V to protect her, which N also made a point of leaving you behind them, just wanting to make you safer from Doll.

Then, after a few minutes of monologue Doll seems to finally snap, sending two fan blades towards you three, which N quickly pushes you and Uzi away, leaving only him and V to be decapitated.

You and Uzi fell and rolled across the floor, which Uzi coughed up oil as you approached her with concern, helping her to get up, which she nodded in a short thanks.

Doll wasted no time throwing a knife towards Uzi, which she parried using her hand, then walking towards the other female drone as she drew the knife with an insane little laugh. Doll even tried to throw another knife towards Uzi, but that proved useless, as he still blocked it by throwing the knife to the side with the first knife.

Doll threw another knife at Uzi, which she gave a spinning dodging the attack, then kicking a microphone stand in the direction of the russian drone that blocked the attack with her powers.

When Uzi thought she had everything under control, Doll managed to pin her to the ground, starting to multiply knives to throw at the poor emo drone, which finally you took the lead going towards the two.

As N protected and helped Uzi to get up, you entered your demonic form, letting your vine marks take over your body in addition to your single horn spike all over your forehead, making you look more menacing and demon like.

You ran towards Doll, making the female worker drone stumble for a second in surprise, then shaking off that feeling, using her powers to throw you across the room doing a big damage to the wall.

" (Y/n)! " N and Uzi shout together looking in your direction surprised and worried, wich Uzi growled jumping between the tables, trying to get to Doll.

The time seemed to go in slow motion, with Uzi countering Doll with her own knives, and you, who managed to sneak up behind the russian drone, giving a big kick to her back sending her in the direction of Uzi, who gave her also a big kick, but this time in her face making the drone roll across the floor.

You've taken your place at Uzi's side, preparing to protect her in case Doll tries anything else, which was not the case, as V shot her in the head, presumably killing her.

" V! We needed her for answers! " Uzi shouted with an unimpressed and irritated expression.

" What? She's fine- " V started to speak, but decided against it, seeing the state the drone was in.

" Good job there (Y/n)! That was very brave of you " N congratulated you with a soft tone, soon patting your head, which made you return to normal with a smile.

" Yeah.. lucky for you we're not done yet " Uzi said giving V a sour look, then picking up a key that was on the floor.

Seeing that you were tired, he let you climb on his back, which he hold you carefully not wanting to hit you with his tail. You sleep for a while after that.

You guys would still have many challenges ahead of you together, but what would they be? Who knows...

#md n #md uzi #murder drones #murder drones x reader #murder drones uzi x reader #murder drones n x reader #md n x reader #md uzi x reader

[sinsandsuccubus]

TOMBOY - Urban Wyatt

Context: You're not the girl he makes you out to be.

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairings: Urban Wyatt X Fem!Reader

Warnings: light talk of sex.

A/N: The song I got the title (and the gif) from is Tomboy by (G)I-DLE, the lyrics don't make sense, somewhat? But you'll get the gist from the story.

Check out Part 2 here!

-

Masterlist ☽☾

“Do you want a blond barbie doll?

It's not here, I'm not a doll”

                                          ☽ ☾

Looking at Urban from your spot across the room, you held off the strong urge to rock his shit. You were leaning up again the wall to the kitchen, running your tongue over your teeth as you drilled holes into the back of his head. Whenever he would catch you, you would simply smile at him, giving your fingers a little wave before changing your face back into disgust.

You were angry at him.

No, scratch that. You were furious.

-

“Y’all, what do you think of Y/N?” Sunni asked, none of the men taking notice to your hiding position between the doorframe.

“She’s pretty cool, I like her vibes.” Jack spoke, nodding his head at his friend.

“Yeah, she’s alright.”

“Alright?” Druski spoke, questioning Urban at his comment.

“Yeah, she’s alright.”

“Well, what do you mean?”

“Well, she’s cool, just average I guess? Boring?”

“Woah, what’s with you Urb?” Jack spoke, punching his man on the shoulder.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty cool, but she’s just… a goodie goodie. Homegirl has done nothing exciting in her life, and she’s around our age. Like, come on, live a little.”

“Well, not everyone lives the whore life Urban.” Sunni spoke, stepping away from the group, however, not without noticing you lingering by. He shot you a look, to which you rolled your eyes, shrugged your shoulders and put your finger to your lips.

You swore if Sunni said anything, he’d never live to see another sun again.

He knew you had a crush on Urban, in fact, he’s the one who introduced you months ago. He had did it purposely, as on the occasions before where you had met him in passing, you thought he was cute. You made mention to Sunni, who filled you in on his life style yet still introduced you to him.

Now you seen why he was hesitant.

-

As you stared into the back of Urban’s hair, you couldn’t help but feel a presence behind you, Jack’s hand on your shoulder taking you by surprise.

“Sunni filled me in. I’m sorry Y/N.” Jack spoke softly, your head swiveling around to meet his gaze.

“Sunni doesn’t know when to keep his mouth fucking shut.”

“Yeah well, he’s just looking out for you.”

“I can look out for myself.” You announced, folding your arms as you looked back out to your group of friends.

Everyone else had given you a warm welcome in the group, appreciating you, your kind words, and your wisdom. Jack often called you the “mom” of the group, outside of Neelam, as you always made the rational and best decisions. You knew when to step in for people, when and where to draw the line, and how to tell a bitch off if needed. You were perfect.

But obviously, not in Urban’s eyes.

“Y/N…”

“You know what Jack, I’m fine. I'm actually fine.” You began to laugh, spinning around as you moved into the kitchen. You grabbed a wine cooler out of the fridge, popping the top, and taking a large gulp.

“Y/N, it’s okay to be upset.”

“No, no, I’m not. I'm fine.” You laughed some more, Jack looking at you with concern. Sunni walked up to you, leaning against the counter beside you.

“What’s got you giggling?” He asked, Jack stepping in before you could speak.

“Urban and his ridiculous accusations.” Sunni looked at you with concern, placing a hand on your back.

He knew, as your bestfriend, that you laughing at something dramatically only could mean a few things.

A) You were about to fuck someone up.

B) You were about to tell someone off.

C) You were plotting a course of action.

Sunni took one good look at you and put into context your choice. Letter C.

“Y/N, you don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to live up to his expectations.” Sunni spoke, spinning you to face him. You downed the rest of your drink, the bottle landing on the counter with a loud clank.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not.” You laughed a little, Jack looking at Sunni now with confusion and concern.

“Im just gonna, live a little.”

                                          ☽ ☾

It had been three months since that party.

Three months.

And to say you made a change was an understatement.

You started going to the gym, working out more often as well as picking up cool hobbies. You went out with your coworkers, often telling crazy stories about the crazy things you had done to the group of friends Sunni had introduced you to.

One was about how one of your guy friends got drunk and slid into a pole.

Another was about how you fucked some guy who didn't make you cum, and how you told him off and kicked him out of your apartment.

Naked.

You changed your hair, got a couple of piercings, and even got a tattoo.

You were living a little.

And Urban couldn’t help but take notice to the sudden changes.

“Have y’all seen how Y/N’s changed?” He pointed out to the group of men, watching you as you stood at the counter talking to a friend you’d bought along.

A guy friend.

“And who’s that guy?” Urban asked additionally, looking at Sunni.

“That’s some guy she met at work, they’ve gotten close over these past few months,” Sunni spoke, sipping on his beer. “Why do you care?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, because she looks fucking hot and I'm interested.” Urban announced, taking a drag of his blunt.

“Yeah, you didn’t say that a few months ago.” Jack commented, promoting a look from his bestfriend.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N heard what you said about her needing to “live her life” Urban. And she took that to heart.” Sunni spoke, placing his beer bottle down on the table.

“Okay, and that matters because?”

“Because she has a fucking crush on you, you fucking dumb ass.” Druski spoke, rolling his eyes at the latter.

“Wait, seriously? Y’all could tell?”

“Yeah, we’re not blind. Maybe you should get your eyes checked instead of Jack.” Copelean spoke, passing Urban back the blunt.

“Fuck you Cope.”

“Nah I’m good, I’m not into that type of shit.”

“Alright Red Robin.” Jack responded, Druski snorting at the comment.

“Anyway,” Urban broke through the two. “That’s good for me right?”

“Nah bro, I don’t think so.” Druski commented.

“Why you say that?”

“'Cause the way she menacingly laughed after talking to Sunni and me, I don’t think she wants anything to do with you.” Jack spoke, clapping his best friend on the shoulder before walking off to the restroom.

“Yeah? Well, watch this.” Urban spoke, moving over to you. By that time your friend had decided to go home, you double checking to make sure they were okay with going home alone and demanding they text you once they got back in.

“Hey Y/N.”

“Urban.” You spoke, taking a sip of your drink.

Here we go.

“I heard you got a crush on me. I’d like to take you up on that.” You looked at Urban and burst out laughing, holding your stomach as you doubled over. Some people at the gathering looked at you, Jack and the guys eyeing the two of you from across the room, as he had returned from the bathroom.

“He just had to say something, didn’t he?”

“E-Yup.” Druski spoke, Neelam now joining the group.

“Urban making a move on Y/N?”

“Yeah, but she’s gonna reject his ass in a few minutes, watch.�� Copelean spoke, taking another hit.

“Well, he shouldn’t have said that shit about her.” Neelam spoke, fanning at the smoke Copelean blew out. They all watched from a distance, Sunni catching your eye as you smirked.

Urban was in for it.

“What’s so funny?” Urban questioned, folding his arms over his chest.

“Me, taking you up on a crush? Why would I do that?”

“Uhh, because you like me? That’s the point of a crush Y/N.”

“Liked, Urban. I liked you. That was until you said I was basically a goodie good, and that I needed to live my life.”

“Look Y/N,” he ran his fingers through his hair. “M’sorry about what I said. But clearly, it did you some justice, cause look at you. You’re glowing.”

You looked at him and laughed again, slapping your hand on the counter.

Urban didn’t find this funny. At all.

“You’re right Urban, I did need to live a little. Thank you for the heartfelt advice. But you were being a little bitch boy, who had to say that shit behind my back. I was too much of a goodie goodie for you, and now, all of a sudden because I’ve changed, you think you can wiggle your way over here like the snake you are?” You spoke, raising your eyebrow at him, waiting for a response.

You chuckled, stepping to him, looking directly in his eyes.

“You’re wrong Urban. You can’t have any of this.” You laughed again, moving to whisper in his ear.

“And you never will.”

-

Tags ♡︎:

@heavyhitterheaux

#urban wyatt #urban wyatt concept #urban wyatt fic #urban wyatt fanfiction #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt scenario #urban wyatt imagine #urban wyatt fan fic #urban wyatt x y/n #urban wyatt x you

[tenderlicksdaddy]

Corrupt

Requested: No

Word Count: 2167

Summary: Father Paul wants to speak to you, but it turns out you don't do much talking.

Warning(s): Smut, 18+ content, priest kink (I guess that's kind of obvious), corruption kink (?), Father Paul losing his virginity, Father Paul is not Monsignor Pruitt, AFAB reader, Sub!Paul, Dom!Reader

This absolutely sucks and I sincerely apologize, but it's my birthday and I thought I'd treat you guys to a quick smut about our favorite priest. This is my first time writing for him so if this sucks please let me know. Constructive criticism is very welcome!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You stepped off your porch and took a deep breath in. The salty morning air that had always surprised you somehow. You had lived on Crockett Island for a few months now, but you still got caught up in the small beauties the island had to offer. There wasn’t ever anything new, but the daily things that happened were always a treat.

Such as daily mass, which had quickly become your favorite thing. Father Paul was to blame for that. From the moment he had arrived, he had mesmerized you. His dark eyes that held mysteries beyond your wildest dreams and the way his smooth, velvety voice commanded everyone in a room made you wonder what he was like in bed.

It was a sinful thought, especially when it was all you could think about while in church. It seemed as though he could read your thoughts because every time you remind would wander to those sinful thoughts he would look right at you. Or it was your imagination.

As you walked up to the large church doors your mind had already started to wander. The idea of ruining the pristine image of Father Paul was one that plagued your mind the most.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Erin sat next to you in the pews.

“Good morning.” You smiled at her. “How did you sleep last night?” 

“As good as I can. Between my cravings and Littlefoot moving so much it’s a little difficult.” You nodded.

You continued your conversation until mass began. Mass had always gone by quickly for you. Between your constant thoughts of corrupting Father Paul and avoiding his gaze, everything seemed to fly by. When it came time for communion you stayed seated. It’s not like you didn’t want to, but the fact that throughout his sermons you would get hot and bothered made it impossible for you to go up to him and allow him to place the eucharist into your mouth seemed like taking it a step too far.

Plus, you highly doubted it would be appropriate.

When everyone started to leave you stayed behind for a few moments, hoping to not get caught in conversation with anyone as you tried to leave so you could fix what you started at home. Once you had decided you were in the clear you stood and as you made your way to the doors, you were stopped by the man himself.

“Good morning, Y/N.” His smile made you feel like you were about to burst.

“Good morning, Father.”

“I was hoping I would catch you before you left. Usually, once everyone else is gone you rush to get home, so I’m glad I could catch you.”

No, please not now.

“Of course.” Why would you say that? “What is it that you needed?”

“Do you think we could speak in my rectory?”

Say no. Come up with an excuse. If you do this you won’t be able to go back.

Ignoring your thoughts you agreed and followed him outside and around the back of the church. As you stepped up on the porch of the tiny building you started to reconsider. If you were to walk in, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself, then you’d be known as the girl who turned the priest away from God and you’s surely be run off back to the mainland.

“Actually, I have to go… do something.” You mentally cursed yourself for not coming up with a good excuse. “Do you think we could do this another time?”

“It will only take a moment. I promise.” He opened the door and allowed you to step inside first. “Just give me a moment to change then we can talk.”

He stepped in after you and made his way to the room in the back of the building. After he closed the door behind him you sighed and ran your hand over your face. You could just walk out right now. You could turn around and leave the building and if he asked where you went, you could say there was an emergency. Yeah, that could work.

As you turned to the door, ready to leave he stepped out of his room.

“Have a seat.” He gestured to one of the few chairs and you gulped before taking a seat.

He sat in a chair opposite you and leaned forward. Your back straightened and your heartbeat picked up.

“Did I do something wrong?” You know you did, but he didn’t know that yet. “If I did, I apologize, although I’m not too sure what it was.”

He chuckled and sat up. “No. As far as I’m aware, you haven’t done anything wrong. Although the confessional is always open.” You quickly looked away from him, which was an obvious indicator that you had something to confess, but he ignored it.

“What I wanted to talk to you about was your presence in the church. You come to mass every day without fail, but you’ve never taken communion. Why is that?”

Because if you had to walk up to him and let him put the eucharist in your mouth you wouldn’t know how to act?

“I just never deemed it as appropriate. Especially considering I’m not even Catholic.” He nodded.

“I didn’t know you weren’t Catholic. I assumed you were since you attended daily mass.” You cleared your throat.

“Am I free to go, Officer?” You smiled at him, and when he chuckled and smiled back your heart thumped louder in your chest.

“Not quite yet.” Your smile dropped. “I noticed during mass, you seem to be uncomfortable. It’s mostly when I look at you.” You looked away from him once again, instead fixating your gaze upon the old TV. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” You might have said it too quickly. “You don’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

You looked back at him. His brows were furrowed in confusion and his eyes stayed on yours.

“You make me the opposite of uncomfortable.” Stop talking. “I feel the most comfortable when I’m around you.” Please stop. For the love of God stop talking. “In fact, Father, you make me so comfortable-” well there’s no turning back now “-that you lead me to have sinful thoughts.”

The moment those words left your mouth, you knew you fucked up. He didn’t say anything, he just sat there, even more confusion etched into his face as his eyes bored into yours. You were definitely going to be run out of town for what you were about to do.

You slowly stood up and stepped closer to him, his eyes stayed on yours the whole time. Your eyes wandered his body for a second before they stopped at his lips and you slowly leaned down, giving him enough time to push you away or say something before your lips touched. 

Once your lips did touch, he pulled his head back and you sat up quickly, a string of apologies left you as you scrambled for an explanation for what you had just done. He calmed you by grabbing both of your hands in his own, making you look at him. He stood up and pulled you closer to him. One of his hands came up under your chin and lifted your face towards him as he bent down and connected your lips once again.

This time you wrapped your arms around his nack as his went to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You pulled away and looked up at him before stepping away and grabbing his hand in yours, leading him to his room. Once you made it past the doorway you pushed him down on the bed and climbed on top of him.

You left kisses along his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair. He let out a low moan and gripped your hips in his large hands. You grinded down into him, making him gasp and close his eyes.

“Bless me, Lord, for I am sinning.” You sat up and looked at him.

“You’re going to have to pray a lot more than that, Father.” You pulled your t-shirt over your head and leaned back down, pressing your lips to his once more.

You grabbed his hands and placed them on your chest as you sat up again, beginning to unbutton his shirt. He squeezed your breasts lightly, earning a small moan from you. You pulled his shirt open, revealing his chest. Your hands roamed up and down his torso, letting your nails dig into his skin lightly every now and then, and when you did he would buck his hips up into you.

You reached behind your chest and unhooked your bra, pulling it off and hearing a small gasp from Paul. A smile formed on your face as you stood up. Paul leaned up on his elbows and watched you as you kicked off your shoes and pulled your pants and underwear down. You were completely naked in front of the priest.

“Do you like what you see, Father?” He nodded as his eyes roamed your bare body.

You stepped towards the bed once and reached out towards his belt. Your nimble fingers quickly undid it and unbuttoned his jeans. He sat up fully and kissed you. It was a slow, soft kiss. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him.

“Do you want to continue, Father?” You pulled away from him and ran a hand through his hair.

He nodded eagerly and kissed your collarbone, eliciting a moan from you. You gripped the back of his head and pulled him away from you.

“Strip.” He pulled his shirt off the rest of the way and pulled his pants down, leaving him in nothing but his briefs.

You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. You pressed your lips just above the waistband of the briefs and he threw his head back and sighed. After teasing him for a few more moments you pulled his underwear down and climbed back on top of him, your legs on either side of him. He looked up at you with half lidded eyes and you kissed him.

This time, the kiss was filled with pure lust as you lined him up with your entrance. His mouth fell open as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. He was big, bigger than you had expected and he filled you up perfectly. His breathing was heavy and his hands were gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles were white.

You grabbed his hands in your own and he released his grip on the bed, allowing you to hold his hands. You pushed them up and held them by his head as you began to move. His mouth dropped open and a low, gutteral groan left him. You leaned down and started kissing his neck and kept your pace slow, keeping yourself under control. He bucked his hips up as you lowered yourself once again and you moaned into his ear.

“Please.” He was so quiet you weren’t sure you heard him. “I’m not going to last long.”

“It’s okay, baby.” You kissed his cheek. “I’ll make you feel good.”

You picked up your pace and his moans got louder. His grip on your hands tightened and his brows furrowed as the pleasure drove through him in waves. The sight of him under you, completely at your mercy was something you loved. Sadly, you couldn’t enjoy it for long as you didn’t want to tease him too much.

You felt the familiar tightness in your stomach become more and more, but you didn’t want to come until he did. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long as he came.

He threw his head back and his body squirmed under you, as if trying to get away from the pleasure that overtook his whole body. You kept moving, chasing your own high even after his ended, and when you finally reached it, you fell over on top of him, slowing your movements once again.

Once you stopped moving, you both just sat there, trying to catch your breaths.

“Are you okay?”  You asked and kissed his cheek.

“Yeah.” His breathing was still very uneven, and his voice came out in a whisper. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I asked if you wanted to speak to me.”

“Yeah. We didn’t do a whole lot of speaking anyways.” You chuckled and sat up, looking down at him with adoration in your eyes. “You know I’m going to be run off the island if anyone finds out I corrupted their new favorite priest.”

He sat up and kissed you softly, his hands roamed your body and you sighed into the kiss.

“I won’t let them.” He smiled at you when he pulled away.

“Good.” You pushed him back down and held his hands beside his head again. “You wanna go for round two?”

#father paul hill #father paul hill imagine #father paul hill x reader #father paul hill smut #midnight mass #midnight mass imagine #midnight mass x reader #midnight mass smut #i think i might have a priest kink #and maybe a corruption kink

[nexusnyx]

1 Year Sleepover 🌙

Hello, lovelies, and welcome to my 1 Year Sleepover and 7k Celebration Party!✨

First of all: thank you from the bottom of my heart to every single one of you who's followed me so far. To the ones that comment, talk to me, share, and give me new ideas for stories and more reasons to keep coming, posting & sharing my silly little scenarios: you're my MVPs. I love you. Here's me magically smooching your forehead: *mwah*.

Second: to my adored mutuals, the tag in this post is no pressure, of course! I come here to cordially invite you all thought to my sleepover — welcome to my cabin, make yourself at home, can I get you anything? — and tell you all that we can do together. Also, a big shout out to @buckysbarnes and her immensurable talent for making me my sleepover gif! I love you, Malin.

Last but not least, I just wanna say that this safe space and little corner of the internet has made me happy and smile a lot this past year. I hope you know I mean it :)

Without further ado, let's go ✨

(Everything I post from this sleepover will be tagged: #nyxieparty7k. From posts to one-shots, drabbles, questions asked & answered—everything will have the #nyxieparty7k tag, so if you don't like this kind of thing, feel free to mute it :D)

⋅☾ The Night Sky Challenge ☽⋅

— #nightskychallenge —

I present to you my 1st Writing Challenge!

The theme is inspired by me, clearly :) I'll list below the fortnight challenge I intend to follow for July. The idea is for me to post a scenario, either a short blurb or a longer one-shot with each prompt for two weeks straight (11—25), giving me some time to work on other things if I want to, but I may not be able to do all of them.

If you want to write any of these, I'll be honored to read them on the day of the Challenge. Tag me with #nightskychallenge and I will read and share them. The settings for (almost!) all of them will be my realm: the night. Any characters are welcome, any amount (or lack of; smut writers, gimme your all, too) plot, as well as a range: if you want to write something platonic, friendly, enemies to lovers, just enemies, long lost lovers—everything is on the table.

The prompt is given to you in bold (i.e. The Night I said 'I love you first'), and in brackets, I added a sentence prompt (i.e. ["I can't believe you said it first. Of course you would."] that you may or may not use. It's up to you.

Without further ado, here's The Night Sky Challenge:

The night we first met. ["Who the hell are you?"]

The night your lips touched mine for the first time. ["Wait. Come back here. Do that again.]

The night I just couldn't take it. ["I usually keep quiet, but... not today."]

The night I left and came back hours later. ["I had to think."]

The night I saw everything in your eyes. ["It's like looking in a magic pond... there's so much hidden."]

The night we said goodbye. ["This is harder than I thought it'd be."]

The night I lost a bet. ["You know what this means, don't you?"]

The night it finally happens. ["I've been waiting for this for a long time now."]

The night you make a decision. ["You told me to think about it, and I did."]

The night we broke a lot of things. ["I don't care about any of that. Are you okay?"]

The night we were remembered where everything started. ["I think about it a lot, you know? This, right here. You."]

The night where rain poured, but my thoughts still remained louder. ["C'mere. I know that look on your face."]

The night we shared all the secrets. ["Why are you looking at me like that?"]

The day when our love shone like the brightest star in the sky. ["Just—shut up and kiss me. Oh my god."]

If you participate, I hope you have fun!

⋅☾ Sleepover Fun ☽⋅

As usual, there are also fun games we can play if writing is not what's on your mind. Here are some ideas:

🎵 We can talk song recs, playlist recs, I can give you a song from my playlists put on shuffle, or anything else on your mind.

💌 Ask me for fic recs, recommend me stuff, talk to me or just ask me random things. I love talking to you!

🃏 Games: FMK, Would you rather + Character, cast your mutuals as, this or that.

💭 Tell me a headcanon about a character, and I'll say if I agree or not, maybe add a little something to it ;)

Lovely mutuals no pressure tag:

💗 @mrsmischief209 — @cordiformity — @fandoms-writings — @buckspumpkin — @buckysbarnes — @theokatz — @mysticatto — @foreverindreamlandd — @zellington — @sweetdreamsbuck — @shawnie--jo — @bvckysmoon — @cocoamoonmalfoy — @lex-the-flex — @pellucid-constellations — @cityofstqrs !

(whispers: i adore each and every single one of you all, you super talented and incredible beings. mwah!)

#usernexusnyx #nyxieparty7k #writing challenge #writing prompt #writing scenarios #writing schedule #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #nightskychallenge #joel miller imagine #eddie munson imagine #joel miller fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

[ellieloverr]

My strange addiction P. 2

Ellie x Reader

Warning ⚠ Language, Body image issues (that's all on this part at least.)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓

Ellie had came in the bathroom and noticed you crying. She quickly walked over to you and wiped away your tears making sure you were ok. You were not able to say anything because you were worried that she would make fun of you so you just told her that your parents were fighting and that your siblings need you over there.

"Hey, hey, your ok your gonna be ok I promise."

"I- I don't know Ellie."

"I promise you everything is gonna be ok your gonna be ok. You want me to drive you?"

"Yea s-sure..."

"Ok I'm gonna give you space ok."

You nod as Ellie brushes back a strand of hair behind your ear. As Ellie walks out you make sure nobody except for Ellie knows you were crying. You walk out of the bathroom looking like nothing ever happened. You stur around your milkshake but not drinking it. You guys were ready to leave, you put the money out for you and jesse. You don't get your milkshake to go you and Jesse walk out leaving Dina and Ellie behind you guys.

"Hey el?"

"Yea D?"

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing why?"

Dina looks at Ellie like she's stupid.

"Ok.. I like(name) but I don't think she's into me ok."

"You want me to ask her for you El?"

"Nah I got it."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It was Wednesday meaning you had one more day till you had to leave. You get your apron on(you work at a coffee shop). Dina was at her class and Jesse was at work. So you were alone with your thoughts once again. As you clock in you switch with this guy named Eric.

"Hey take this order(name)"

"Got it."

You were handed pancakes and a iced Carmel late. You notices the name on the order seemed familiar. It was your female exes order (Monica). You sighed as you walked up to her table.

Once your shift was over you went to Jesse's dorm. You and him talked and watched movies. You went to his kitchen and had gotten chips for the both if you.

"So you ok?"

You looked at him in confusion.

"I mean about yesterday"

"Oh.. Yeah everything is somewhat good"

You had told him what had happened, he comforted you by hugging you and joking around with you. After sometime you decided to pack your bag. As you open the door you accidentally knock into Ellie.

"Holy shit I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine."

You didn't really want to talk to anyone except for Jesse and your siblings. Later on you were trying to sleep because you had a flight from Jackson to Las Vegas. You couldn't sleep. You tried calling Jesse but he was already asleep. Dina was in her bed sleeping so you couldn't talk to her. You decided to try Ellie.

Ellie 🥱

2:33AM

Hey Ellie you awake ?

2:34AM

Yea wsp?

Sorry if I'm bothering you but I just needed someone to talk to but everyone else is asleep.

It's alr your not bothering me. You do realize that we have to wake up at 4:00 in the morning so I can drive you to the airport right?

Yea I do so shouldn't you be asleep Ms. Williams?

Shut up

Make me.

You guys spent an hour texting untill you guys decided to actually go to sleep. In the morning you had taken a shower and gotten into a oversized shirt and grey sweats and a your favorite soft shoes. As Ellie was driving you noticed her hair is always in a specific half up half down bun style that you have been admiring for a while now. Ellie had you strangely addicted to how her eyes shined and how her hands looked. As she dropped you off at the airport she had stared at how you look just simply walking and wish she had admitted to you right then and there. While in the airport you changed Ellie's name in your phone from "Ellie🥱" to "Els🤍".

#Spotify #ellie tlou #ellie williams #tlou part 2 #ellie x reader

[night-garden-fic]

Chapter Eleven: Unwinding in Red

(Read on AO3)

"I can't die here!  I need to get home!"

Part Three

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"I've been looking for the ending my story lacks

A strong enough magnet to pull me back

Oh, you are that

Oh, you are that"

-"74 Willow," Ednaswap

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Chapter Eleven: Unwinding in Red

     The first color to disentangle itself from the stygian black of Russell's mind was a violent, arteric red.

     His whole body lit up with a violent flash of it; the searing crimson radiating hotly from a single sharp point between two ribs.  The few thoughts that could fight their way to the surface—through all that bright red pain—were sluggish and chaotic from the trip, his body spinning somewhere in uncertain space, vision blurry and distorted.

     (Lost.)

     But the mental image of a Sechs broadsword, polished to a fierce gleam, was as clear and vicious as the pain itself.

     They came back for me.

     (I think I'm dead.)

     Dead or alive, it surprised him when his body began fighting back of its own accord.

     Russell was exhausted, and prepared to let nature take its course, but his hands had other ideas, and he felt one of them land a blow against the swordsman's sturdy body.

     "...Lara!  We need to hold him down!"

     Like hell you do!

     His mind, it seemed, was now in league with his body.

     (You don't get to decide when you're done!)

     (You can't leave her!)

     Even working together, his body and mind couldn't quite muster the vigor he'd need to escape.  Russell squirmed beneath the four firm hands that held him, but it was like sinking in thick mud.  The more he struggled, the stronger the grip seemed to become, and he was tiring quickly.

     I can't die here!  I need to get home!

     Russell summoned the last of his fading strength, but it was to no avail.  The exertion and dizziness only made him begin to retch, and the nauseating wave of panic when he felt the hands turning his body and pinning him face down didn't help matters.

     Nor did the swordsman's raised voice.

     "While we have him on his side, Lara!"

     He felt a vile wet heat rising in his throat, and the sudden stabbing pain and hot pressure in his left thigh sent him over the edge.  He vomited something thin and caustic into a clanging metal basin, with so much force that he swore he felt his muscles begin to tear.

     Then the swordsman spoke again.

     "I'm sorry, Russell...  That was probably pretty startling, but your lung was collapsed, and I had to let the air out of your chest cavity."

     No.  They're both collapsed.  That's what happened.  I remember.

     You don't forget something like that.

     And why does he know your name?

     (Swordsman?)

     Suddenly, Russell wasn't sure.  He knew the voice, but his mind couldn't quite hold on to it.  Or, for that matter, to anything else.  Everything was red and slippery; quicksilver, crimson ink, a line drawing of the heart made to beat by a strange trick of the light.

     If only the room would stop spinning.

     (The room?)

     He was, he realized, in a room.

     So he wasn't in the trenches, and this couldn't have been a swordsman.  Or at least, it was seeming more and more unlikely.

     Where am I?  What's happening to me?

     The not-swordsman's grip relaxed.

     "There you go.  Easy, now."

     With his limbs now freed, and the strange pressure in his chest slowly fading, Russell curled himself into a tight shivering ball, straining to speak.  He didn't have much breath, so he would have to carefully choose what he wanted to communicate.

     "...Cold in here..."

     ...Where's "here?"  Why didn't you ask?

     (I don't think I'm thinking straight.)

     That familiar voice again, sounding sympathetic and faintly weary.

     "You came in with hypothermia, but you spiked a high fever after we got you warm.  I'll get you a blanket when it comes down, but we need to keep you cool for now."

     I came in too cold.  Now I'm too hot.

     I think I know where I am.

     Time, it seemed, had unwound.

~*~

     Russell was twenty-one when it happened, and he had already been having a bad day.

     It had begun as the ordinary sort of bad day; the kind that one could have anywhere, despite the distinct militaristic flavor of his particular complaints.  There was a rock in his boot, and no break long enough to get it out.  He'd had nothing to eat all day but a chalky ration bar that stuck in his back teeth and left a bad taste in his mouth.  The damp chill of the trenches had settled in his lungs and bones, as it often did, and he was fighting a cold; feeling sweaty and clammy under his uniform despite the weather.

     And, as if all that wasn't bad enough, his constant unchosen companion—the boy who hung behind him and whispered inane comments—had been particularly chatty that day.

     "...Sechs battlemages."

     Russell shifted in the cold mud, willing the feeling to return to his numb behind.

     "Hmm."

     He obviously wasn't interested in this conversation, but the other boy, insistent or merely oblivious, was equally uninterested in letting up.

     "No, seriously.  I heard from down the way that there's a whole line of them up there on the other side."

     Of course, this young man was always hearing things from "down the way."  Russell was skeptical.

     "What?  No.  Why would they send battlemages to deal with us?"

     The boy shrugged.

     "Look, it's just what I heard."

     Russell—who was slightly feverish, and more than a little bit cranky—had heard about enough of this.

     "Yeah, well, you hear a lot of things."

     His companion remained undeterred.

    "Fine.  I'll go have a look for myself."

     Russell thought that sounded like a terrible idea, but he knew this fool wouldn't listen to him anyway, so he said nothing.

     To a chorus of whispered protests from the cohort of young soldiers around him, the talkative boy peered above the rim of the trench.  Then he sat back down next to Russell and resumed his muttering, voice quivering with a strange mix of terror and self-satisfaction.

     "...I told you!  Go look if you don't believe me!"

     In all the years that followed, Russell could never figure out why he did what he did next.

     It was idiotically reckless, and completely out of character.  Perhaps he simply wanted the annoying chatterbox to shut up for a few minutes, or perhaps he was just responding to a preexisting need to stand and stretch his aching hips.

     Most likely, he was curious.

     The only time Russell had ever seen magic up close was a brief flirtation of his own at fifteen; when he'd gotten hold of a spell tome, managed to make a trickle of water glide down his fingers, and wound up needing a three-hour nap afterwards.  He decided it probably wasn't for him, but the fascination still remained.

     So he went to have a look.  And he figured that, while he was taking the risk, he might as well make it a good one.  It took all the strength he had in his tired limbs, but Russell managed to hoist himself up into the open air.

     The sight that greeted him was almost beautiful.  Even the vast horizon itself was heartbreakingly lovely, after several days spent squatting in a muddy ditch.

     And then there were the mages themselves; a line of stoic hooded figures like a grim rainbow, each dressed in a robe the color of their chosen element.  Their otherworldliness captivated him, and Russell ended up lingering just half a second too long.

     Long enough to be sighted by a single mage in black.

     The stranger who—though Russell didn't know it yet—was to shatter his world.

     It happened before he could react.  He'd glimpsed the mages, then realized too late that he was being pursued by what appeared to be a hole in reality itself; gleaming violet around its sucking edges, ready to swallow him whole.

     Except, he wasn't swallowed.

     This was a void with substance, and it barrelled into Russell at an incredible speed, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying back into the sticky mud of the trench.

     He couldn't move.  He couldn't breathe.  At first, he assumed the fall must have broken his neck.

     No, that's not right.  I can feel everything.

     And, if he tried, he could move his fingers.  He just didn't seem to have the strength to do anything more.

     What did...

     By now, the whole unit was crowding around him, and the lights in his mind were beginning to burn out.  Russell wanted to say that he was okay, that he could clench his hands in loose fists, that nothing was broken.  But he lacked the breath for speech, and words were beginning to feel slippery and strange.

     "Is he breathing!?"

     "He's freezing cold!"

     "...Oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods..."

     "Rufus, say something!"

     "Wrong name, moron!"

     "Quit bickering and get him out of here before he drops dead!"

     A series of men managed to relay Russell to the field hospital; where a medic tapped both sides of his ribcage with a horrible tool that felt like nothing so much as a rusty icepick, returning air to his deflated lungs in an agonized heaving gasp.

     And that was the last thing he remembered for quite a long time.

~*~

     When his memories picked up again, Russell had no idea where he was.

     It was somewhere pale and blurry, and he seemed to be in bed.  He still didn't have enough strength to move much, and felt as though he were drowning.  Something dense and semi-solid filled his lungs, and pulling air into them was too great a task for his weakened chest.

     (You can give up.  It's okay.)

     Just as he was about to close his eyes and slip under again, the animal panic of near-suffocation invigorated him just enough to prop himself up slightly and begin to cough.  Once he started, it seemed nearly impossible to stop, and it frightened him to realize he was bringing up chunks of something tar-black and glistening.

     The memory of the void that took him down came back to level him a second time.

     What did they put in me?

     He felt sickeningly violated and corrupt, until he gradually realized that the strange black substance was only his own clotted blood.

     No sinister magic had put it there.

     He had merely bled.

     Gods, how much did I bleed?

     At first, there seemed to be no end to it; not until the black gave way to a watery, streaky red, and the strain caused the entirety of his body to begin working in reverse.  Russell gagged painfully, bringing up what must have been the sour watery ghost of that vile ration bar.

     Then, strength spent, he collapsed back on the bed, shivering violently with exhaustion.

     Before long, figures in white began to gather at his bedside.  They were as blurry as everything else, and he finally realized that he didn't have his glasses.  His compromised vision terrified him, almost as much as the near-immobility itself.  The figures might have been speaking to him, but his head was still fuzzy, and his heart was beginning to pound in his ears.

     Just do whatever you're going to do.

     The figures began muttering amongst themselves.  They dug Russell out from under layers of muffling white, lifting him off the bed and placing him on the chilly wood floor.

     At the touch of the cold, slickly varnished planks, he realized that—save for a gauze wrap around his chest—he was completely naked.

     And even that frail layer of gauze, it seemed, was being undone.  He gasped as it came painfully unstuck from his skin, recoiling slightly when two of the strangers began going over his body with wet cloths without even asking him, then recoiling further as one of them crept up between his legs.  He felt invaded and exposed, wanting nothing more than to curl into a tight ball.

     Then Russell's rational mind—ever the bearer of bad news—began to return to him.

     You've just been coughing blood and throwing up.

     And you can't move.

     Russell unclenched, allowing the two strangers to wash him.  It was over soon enough, and he was bandaged up again, then dressed in a sharp-smelling white robe and finally placed back on a bed fitted with fresh sheets.

     The figures seemingly forgot him after that, moving onto other tasks and leaving him with who must have been their leader.

     The doctor, he presumed.

     "Do you know where you are?"

     Russell shook his head once, managing to find a weak, hoarse voice.

     "I don't have my glasses."

     He thought the doctor might have nodded.  Though, without the aforementioned glasses, it was a bit hard to tell.

     "They're pretty badly cracked, but they're with the rest of your things.  I'll have a nurse fetch them."

     The doctor mumbled something to one of the white-clad strangers, then went on to explain Russell's situation.

     Russell was told that the blank white space surrounding him was a Norad military hospital, several miles from the border, and that he was in a ward with twenty other injured men.

     Then he was told that a powerful Dark spell had drained a considerable amount of his life energy; leaving a deep wound that resembled a severe burn or minor necrosis, which had needed to be debrided.  Additionally, he'd developed a bronchial infection while lying near-comatose, and was still running a low-grade fever.

     He was told, almost as an afterthought, that he had been unconscious for nearly a week.

     And, finally, he was told that his unit's archers had managed to drive back the mages, but that hardly seemed relevant.

     Abruptly, and seemingly without a proper conclusion, the doctor stopped his telling, giving Russell a few minutes to process what he'd learned.

     "If the spell drained my energy...  That's why I can't move, right?"

     Again, he wasn't sure if the doctor had nodded.  Except this time, he couldn't fully put the uncertainty down to his bad vision.

     "Partially, yes.  But it's difficult to tell where the drain ends and ordinary exhaustion begins.  When you were brought in, your general condition was...  Pretty poor.  But either way, your Runes should replenish themselves with time.  Even the fact that you're awake now should be a sign you're on the mend."

     Russell didn't feel like he was mending.  He couldn't so much as lift his head off the pillow.  Simply breathing took an onerous amount of effort, and he was increasingly aware of the smoldering crater in his chest.

     Everything hurt.

     Everything felt irreparably broken.

     The nurse-stranger returned with his glasses, gently positioning them on his face.  For the first time since his awakening, Russell was able to get a decent look at his surroundings.

     The lenses, indeed, were badly cracked, rendering his left eye almost useless.  What's more, the prescription was several years out of date; enough that he'd been struggling to read for quite some time.  But they worked well enough to show Russell that he was just one in a long line of broken young bodies in sterile white beds.

     Though still distressed at his body's weakness, he began to feel grateful that he was relatively intact, surrounded as he was by missing limbs and bandaged faces.

     When he healed—if he healed—there would be, he assumed, relatively little to relearn.

     Of course, the first thing he would eventually learn was just how wrong he had been.

~*~

     Over the course of his lengthy hospital stay; as he went from scarcely able to roll over in bed unassisted, to propping himself up and drinking water from a glass, to sitting up in bed and straining to read what little he could get his hands on through his ancient damaged glasses, Russell began to realize that he wasn't as whole as he'd first thought.

     Reading and thinking now seemed to require physical energy, and his injuries were strangely slow to heal.  The infection in his lungs reoccurred twice, leaving him fighting for air in a cold sweat through delirious fevered nights.  His baseline mood was one of dull, leaden apathy.  Milk had never really agreed with him, but it now took only a miniscule amount to double him over with agonizing cramps.

     The individual difficulties may have been small, but added together, they all left Russell fighting against a body that simply didn't function as well as it had before. 

     And, worst of all, the new skin that had begun to form over his flayed chest was paper-thin and translucent, hardly a skin at all.  It frightened him to even move too quickly; lest his ribs pierce that friable membrane, spilling his slippery contents all over the white sheets.

     I feel like I'm about to fall apart.

     (I feel like I already have.)

     The doctor told him that all of this would improve with time, but what abated and what lingered, in actuality, seemed completely arbitrary.  Russell's fatigue improved, but his digestion never did.  His mental state plateaued at "unpredictable," but he eventually regained most of his ability to shake off infections.  And that new scar burned and ached like hell.

     He began to wish that he had lost a limb, or an eye, or half the skin off his face, just so his obvious brokenness could be seen for what it was.

     But, in spite of it all, Russell's mind did begin to quicken somewhat.

     And, once it did, it was immediately consumed by a singular, hopeful thought.

     Maybe they'll discharge me?

     It seemed to make perfect sense.  Though he could now imagine going on to live a relatively normal life, there was no way he was still in fighting shape.  Even when he had mostly recovered from the worst of the drain, surely the deconditioning alone would disqualify him from a return to combat.

     Russell, it seemed, had been wrong again.

     First, before he knew what was truly going on, an oculist was brought in to see him; examining him right there as he sat up in bed.  Then, a week later, he was presented with his new glasses, told to collect his things, and put on a carriage with several other only-slightly-broken men from the ward.

     Russell held the new glasses in his hands for a moment, examining them as well as his under-corrected eyes could manage.  They were oval, rimless, and terribly cheap-looking.

     I hate them.  I want to snap them in half.

     Instead, he slipped them on, and suddenly saw everything in brutal, unforgiving clarity.  The villages, growing ever more run down as they approached the border.  And his fellow soldiers, so painfully young.

     Russell decided to fold the glasses into his shirt pocket for the time being, and spent the rest of the ride in an uneasy half-sleep.

     Just enjoy these last few sane hours of your life.

     (I have such an awful feeling about this.)

     Going back to the front was bad enough in itself, but the unit to which he'd been assigned was, to put it bluntly, a nightmare.  It seemed to be where Norad's army stuck all its odds and ends, which created a poorly-matched company of deeply miserable men.

     There were returnees with barely-healed injuries, like himself.  Several recovered prisoners of war; even a few former Sechs soldiers who had defected after being taken prisoner themselves.  Men who'd been kicked over their way after a few too many demerits.  Fresh recruits who didn't themselves add up to a full unit, terrified teenagers in over their heads.

     Easy targets.

     (Poor things.)

     And Russell, it turned out, was proving something of an easy target himself.

     He'd never been particularly physically robust, and had entered the war as a scrawny, languid adolescent who preferred to spend most of his free time sprawled out on his bed or the floor, a book in hand.  Even after basic training, he wasn't exactly strong.  But—though still awkward and accident-prone—he had grown stringy and deceptively tough, with a surprising amount of endurance and tolerance for pain.

     Now, all but the pain tolerance was gone; his body weakened by the energy drain, and what muscle he'd managed to build lost to nearly three months of bedrest.  His hands and brain had all but forgotten the rhythms and intricacies of military life.  He was no longer a soldier in any meaningful sense, and had no business anywhere near a war.

     But somehow, in spite of that, he had found himself in one; with someone always getting on his case for holding things up, or generally not pulling his weight.  Surrounded as he was by short fuses—including his own—these altercations often grew heated.

     And, if nobody bothered to de-escalate them, they could easily become physical.

     Russell, even at his best, had never excelled at hand-to-hand combat.  And now, at his worst, he was all but unable to defend himself.  That is, until the drizzly restless day when he found himself pinned to the ground by a nineteen-year-old former Sechs crossbowman who thought he'd taken one trip too many to move a pile of gear.

     The boy seemed to be, quite bizarrely, trying to dislocate Russell's shoulder.

     Instead, he'd managed to snap his mind.

     Russell used the slick, yielding mud to his advantage, and rolled his assailant off of him.

     How does it feel to be the one getting held down!?

     (Put your hands around his throat!)

     Russell recoiled at the thought, mostly in shock that it had really come from his own mind.

     In the end, he didn't throttle the boy; opting instead to release him after an ineffectual slug in the stomach.

     But the next man to step to him, Russell decided, would be the last.

     And so, when one of the young men he'd left the hospital with—a particularly nasty creature still nursing his rage at the loss of a left eye—moved to grab Russell by the collar, Russell simply took out his utility knife and held it to the boy's throat.

     Luckily, there were witnesses.

     And, though the small blade didn't particularly frighten them, the coldness in Russell's eyes certainly did.

     Everyone mostly left him alone after that.

     Which is to say, they not only stopped picking fights, but stopped engaging him all together.  There were no more attempts at conversation, and nobody seemed to want to come within arm's length of the pasty bookworm who might open a man's neck without a second thought.  Even eye contact seemed to be regarded as risky.

     Russell could never figure out if this was true fear, or mere disgust at something abject and atavistic within him.

     Either way, it suited him just fine.

     In all honesty, he loathed the entire group.  They were petty and violent, and most of them had an irritating tendency towards self-pity; which was often itself sublimated into yet more violence, yet more pettiness.  All of them seemed to be missing something inside them.  Several not only killed civilians, but openly bragged about this.

     And he'd never heard any of them mention a book they'd enjoyed.

     Yes, Russell hated these men.

     Every last miserable one.

     He would live and fight among them for the next two years.

~*~

     By the time the last day arrived, Russell had already felt it coming for a good, long while.

     What he didn't expect was that he would, when the sun had set and all was said and done, have to go on living.

     Until that pivotal point, the working assumption was that he would be dead within the year.  He had no concrete reason to believe this, other than it feeling somehow right.  The logical conclusion to his situation.

     Young men die out here all the time.

     There was no end in sight to the war, and it didn't seem like he himself would be discharged any time soon.  There would be uncountable close calls in the future.  And, if he failed to defend himself only once...

     ...It will all, finally, be over.

     This, to Russell, was not a terribly distressing thought.  Rather, he welcomed it; having grown, by now, fully tired of life.

     Tired of waiting all day in the mud and muck for something to happen, tired of having to fight when it inevitably did.  Tired of the sad, furious men that surrounded him.  Tired of the terrible food, a good portion of which he couldn't digest and had to avoid.  Tired of feeling perpetually achy and under the weather, no longer sure where the old energy drain ended and seven-hundred-and-thirty additional days of simple wear and tear began.

     Just tired, period.

     Moreover, he couldn't stand what he'd become.

     It was bad enough that he'd taken human life at all, but worse still that he had taken several, and had indeed lost count after five.  After that, he felt it no longer mattered.  And he hated himself, with all of whatever still remained of his heart, for that lack of feeling.  For all his wretched deeds.  For having committed them in the name of a cause in which he'd never really believed.

     (In instinctive defense of this awful life that I don't even want.)

     Russell decided, rather abruptly, that his days of self-defense were over.

     Even if his will to live had held out, he knew he never wanted to raise a hand against another human being again.  Not hand, nor sword, nor arrow, nor even voice.  He would go quietly, and he would let it end.

     And then, of course, it finally ended.

     But it wouldn't be the ending he'd been counting on.

     The last day began like any other.  Even if it had, to his mind, begun the day before.  No one had slept in 24 hours, having spent the entire night in a particularly violent skirmish.  And, when dawn broke, it seemed as though they had won.

     At least, Russell assumed they had, seeing as his pitiful company were the only ones left standing.  But, in truth, he hadn't paid much attention.  He was too busy pretending to do the bare minimum; bringing up the rear while fantasizing about arrows through the temples and swords in the gut.

     Of a void that might swallow his life whole, instead of merely taking a big bite and leaving him to stagger around wounded for years.

     I probably shouldn't even be here.

     (Please, don't leave me unfinished!)

     Then, before he knew it, the battle was over, and Russell was one of the men left standing.

     What was it he said to you back then?

     "You just don't break!"

     (The longer I live, the more it sounds like a curse.)

     Several weren't so lucky, including the violent young crossbowman.  Russell found it difficult to even want to mourn him.  They'd never liked each other much.  And besides, the young man was at peace.  He'd never have to hurt anyone or cry out in anguish in the night again.

     He won't have to live with himself.

     Russell, it seemed, would.

     (For just a little while longer.)

     Long enough, at any rate, to help his unit clean up their mess.  They would bury their dead, salvage what equipment they could, and then move on, skirting the ever-shifting border.

     At the beginning of the end, Russell was digging a grave.

     It was backbreaking work, and his own back was ill-used and unstable enough by then.  But it was the work he'd chosen, over the less taxing scouting or salvage duties.  For he had seen a number of what appeared to be civilian bodies crumpled in the mud, and he didn't feel like accompanying his fellows on what he knew would become, essentially, a graverobbing expedition.

     So instead of robbing graves, he dug one instead, with the help of two other men.  Their silent fourth companion, the one to be interred, was a new recruit; some poor child of seventeen or eighteen, who had been gutted from hip to hip by—judging from the mess he'd made of things—an incredibly clumsy swordsman.

     Someone like me.

     Russell had never been able to put a man down cleanly.  It was always horrible, and there was always screaming.

     (It would be horrible regardless.)

     And now, standing over this poor gutted boy, cruelly opened by someone else's sword, he couldn't even think of something to say.  None of them could.  The kid had been with them for less than a month, and had spent most of that time staying well out of the way, lest his seniors pointlessly torment him for sport.

     It really was pointless, wasn't it?.

     All that heckling, all that effort to uphold their messy little pecking order, and for what?

     It certainly didn't matter now.  The boy was lying at the bottom of a dank hole, with three apathetic strangers slowly heaping dirt on top of him.  None of them—once it had been obscured by soil—could even properly remember his face.

     The grave was halfway full when they heard the wailing.

     It was an unmistakably human sound; infantile, terrified, wanting.

     Russell decided he would rather be anywhere other than standing at the edge of a gaping hole in the Earth, throwing heaps of black mud onto a man who was too young to be dead, so he volunteered to investigate.  He stepped out onto the battlefield; over the bodies and debris, past his graverobbing fellows, following that mournful noise.

     As he got closer to the source, the wailing grew louder, and Russell soon began to cry himself.

     Perhaps this shouldn't have startled him as much as it did, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually cried.  A slight watering of the eyes back at the hospital, when a nurse had to remove a dressing that had begun to stick to the open flesh of his chest?  He couldn't quite recall.

     All he knew was that he had been numb for quite some time, and was now weeping with someone else's incoherent sorrow.

     His eyes grew so blurry that, when he finally arrived, he almost missed it.

     Almost missed her.

     Sunken in the mud was the cold body of a woman; tan skin gone ashen, long golden hair, pointed ears.

     Not Human, not exactly.  But something close.

     And, swaddled and strapped to the dead back of what had to have been their mother, there was an infant.

     Who was very much alive.

     And with, Russell noted, very strong lungs.  It had taken nearly forty minutes of screaming to call him to their side, and they were still going strong.  The child had their mother's pointed ears, but was fairer and more pink-skinned, with hair the color and texture of a particularly fuzzy peach.

     Russell had no experience with babies or children.  Indeed, he'd practically been a child himself when he was jettisoned into this eerily homogenous world of young men.  But he couldn't bear to hear this small creature suffer, and wouldn't dream of leaving them to their fate.  With careful, shaking hands, he loosened the carrier's straps, then took the small bundle in his arms.

     "Hey...  Um...  It's okay...  I'm sorry.  I don't know why I said that...  Of course it isn't.  But I'm going to get you out of here, all right?"

     For a while longer, the child went on wailing.  But, as Russell held them, they must have realized that he wasn't going to let go.  Gradually, the screams slowed and quieted, and the infant drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep in his arms.

     "There you are...  Get some rest, now.  That must have been hard work."

     Wet-eyed and stumbling, achingly slow and careful, Russell retraced his steps until he was back at the camp.  If anyone looked at him and his new charge strangely, he simply didn't notice.

     After a moment of deliberation, Russell decided the sensible thing would be to take the child to the medical tent.  There, she was pronounced healthy, physically unharmed, and apparently a girl.  The medic told him that she would be looked after, and would soon be shipped off along with several of their injured men.  Presumably, the staff at the hospital would know what to do next.

     Russell winced at the thought of the hospital, but thanked the doctor anyway, and returned to his duties.

     The child was safe, and he wouldn't have to worry about her anymore.

     Except, of course, he did.

     As he struggled to sleep that night, curled in a ball with his forehead touching the cold wall of the trench, she was all he could think about.

     She's sleeping all alone over there.

     Why does she have to go to that awful place?

     I held her.  Does she know me now?

     Does she wonder where I went?

     As he curled further into himself, Russell felt his hands gripping his upper arms.

     Those cold, treacherous hands.

     Hands that dug graves, swung cold clattering steel, drew blood, once held a knife to a man's throat.

     Hands that, somehow, managed to soothe a child who had lost everything.

     Whatever bad blood flowed beneath their sallow skin and calloused palms, she didn't seem to be able to feel it.

     Russell wasn't sure if the surge of emotion this invoked in him was disgust at his own unintended deceitfulness, or something that he still, after all these years, recognized as hope.

     I have to go to her.  I have to make sure she's sleeping okay.

     And indeed, that had been his original plan; to check up on her, maybe whisper some soothing nonsense, and then crawl back into what passed for bed, where sleep would never find him.

     But when Russell arrived at the child's makeshift bedside, finding her sound asleep in a cargo crate piled with blankets, he realized there would be no crawling back to any of this.

     He thought of the hospital, which he remembered well.  The horror of white walls, of lonely nights, of being picked over by hurried doctors with a hundred other patients waiting to be prodded.

     No place to start a life.

     And he thought of his own rootless upbringing; his massive extended family where everyone passed their children from house to house, relation to relation, one huddled border village to another, hoping against hope to keep them safe from the ever-encroaching horrors of war.

     It came for me anyway.

     (It swallowed me whole.)

     Last, he thought of the Elven woman's still body, cut down in the mad dash for a better place, a better start.

     I, quite literally, picked up where she left off.

     (And then you dropped her child here, in this sad place.)

     I don't have to.  I can lift her up again.

     As if to prove himself, Russell reached into the crate, wrapped one of the blankets around the infant's body, and gently tucked her under his chin.

     She fussed slightly upon being lifted.  But, as on the battlefield, it didn't take long to soothe her back to sleep.  His hands, to his amazement, seemed to know what to do; better than they had ever known a sword or a bow, or the cruel blade of the knife.

     And then the pair departed, quiet as moths, into the dark of the night.  Away from the border and the trenches; away from the scent of rot and blood that even the heaviest rain never seemed to fully clear.

     Russell didn't know how long he walked, but it was dawn when he saw the cart trundling down the road.  A humble farmer transporting a small group of Woolies, a sight so ordinary that it almost took on a storybook quality.  The first thing he'd seen in ages—excepting the baby herself—that had nothing at all to do with war.

     Cautiously, he raised his hand.

     Will you take me back to the real world?

     The cart slowed to a stop, and the farmer took a minute to size them up.  Seeing the filthy, hollow-eyed young man in his rumpled Norad uniform, protectively clutching a sleeping infant to his chest, she must have been able to piece together at least part of what had transpired.

     "Hop in the back.  I assume you don't mind critters!"

     Russell thanked her profusely, then climbed into the cart; where he immediately collapsed with exhaustion in the soft hay, still cradling his tiny companion.

     It was the best sleep he'd had in years.

~*~

     He called the child Cecilia, a name that he recalled from a childhood book about a fairy child found in the trunk of a hollow tree by a hermit woodsman while gathering firewood.  The Cecilia in the story grew up spirited and optimistic, despite the isolation that came with living deep in the woods and knowing no others of her kind.  She had the creatures of the forest, the love of her father, and the sense that every day would be an adventure.

     He hoped that his own daughter—if that was indeed what she would become to him—would have all of that and more.

     Later, of course, he found out that the true origin of her name was a little more complicated, something to do with blindness and fire and tragedy.  But the image in his mind remained that of a pair of curious eyes peering out of a dark stump, taking in the enormity of the outside world.

     My Cecilia!

     (My girl from the rotten hollow.)

     The pair traveled together for nearly a year, with Russell doing whatever he could to scrape by and provide for Cecilia; considering his own wellbeing only in the context of his ability to care for her.

     To his own surprise, he rarely faltered, even when he felt like he was falling apart.

     Russell begged, and occasionally stole.  He slept on the cold dirty floors of barns and sheds, and frequently went hungry so his child could eat.  He ran fevers, and seemed constantly on the verge of coming down with something nasty.  Many nights, he woke up screaming.

     And, through it all, Cecilia thrived at his side.

     I made sure of that.

     Before too long, it began to rub off on him.

     Gradually, Russell remembered how to smile.  And, eventually, he remembered that he used to want things out of life.

     Of course, the last time he had truly wanted anything for himself—beyond escape or a quick death—he had been little more than a child.  So his wants were a child's wants; simple, but all-encompassing.

     Mostly, he wanted books.

     Books, and the time and space to read as many of them as he could.  He couldn't remember ever wanting anything else; not since he was four years old, when he got his first set of glasses and began to read.

     And so, upon arriving in a small seaside village and immediately noticing its dark, shuttered Library, Russell didn't wait to start asking around.

     Are you ready, Cecilia?

     We can start our lives over now.

     (I really am just like a child.)

#rune factory #rune factory 1 #rf1 #rf1 russell

[antiquatedmagic]

Hermione Granger fucks.

@oldmaqic "which thanks to you the whole school now knows, hina." still she can't help the laugh that bubbles and escape. there's no doubt in her mind that this is the LAST time hermione (@bccksmarts) is careless with her wardrobe.

#oldmaqic #hina stop telling the world!!! #⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ back when i was living for the hope of it all [ verse: after fifth year.] #⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ i don't want to think of anything else now that i thought of you [ answered ask.]

[shiroi---kumo]

@lunaferrous has some options:

"Mm. Have you given any thought as to your wardrobe while you're here?" She wondered out loud, hand grasping at her chin as she looked him up and down, closely inspecting his manner of dress. She could see the use of his tactical gear, as she could feasibly work around that. But everything else made him stick out like a sore thumb, and the primary goal when interacting with humans was to blend in. Make them feel at ease, so one could easily slip into the herd undetected--like a wolf among sheep. Well, the latter was more so for her benefit, but the principle was the same. She twisted her lips off to the side, humming in thought as she turned on her heel to start rummaging through her closet. She had some nice blazers, maybe a fashionable jacket or even a tail coat that might suit him. Clearly, white was his preferred color, but she was open to experimentation.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ The offense at her words is written clearly across his face at the very moment she's done speaking them. Given thought to his wardrobe?! He is practically blowing mist from his nose at the implication - though it is all firmly caught behind his mask.

"No, I haven't given thought to my wardrobe." The Misterican nearly hisses as his arms come up to cross over his chest. "What pray tell is wrong with my clothes, Miss Luna? This is standard clothing of the Misterican Royal Family I'll have you know, there is nothing wrong with them."

Perhaps she means for Earth. The humans always had a way about things and they were always weary of those from Wonderland. He's noticed that full well from his interactions when he was looking after the Hayakawas. The other children from their school never did seem to take well to himself or Black Wind.

There's a low Hmmmm sound coming from him as he thinks about it and all the problems it's caused in the past. But the humans would know he was a Wonderlander just from looking at him. He could don himself in their way of dress all he wanted. That wouldn't change the make up of his eyes or do anything for the horns on his head. He couldn't very well go without his mask either.... and certainly not the Maken.

And he absolutely under no circumstance would be taking off his sielun värit. Absolutely not. There was no way he was ever taking it off. Not unless ceremony dictated it, and the humans didn't have a single ceremony that he obeyed, so it would not be coming off for any reason.

"Are you even listening to me?" He sounds as he notes how she's already started rummaging through her closet as if to find something better suited to the humans taste. Well he doesn't dress for the humans so that's just unfortunate for them, now isn't it?

"Why would I need to change how I dress? I didn't the last time I was on this planet, so I don't see why it matters now. Besides, different clothing isn't going to do much for my eyes or my horns....or did you not realize these are attached?"

#lunaferrous #v; sheep in wolf's clothing #// me laughing a little because Kaze calls him a 'lamb' all the fucking time and Kaze is very much the 'wolf' of their little duo #// oooh she gets to deal with offended kumo #// he absolutely hates being mistaken for or compared to a human #// he has no problems with humans #// he just doesn't like being called one because he is very much not #// he gets so puffy about it lol

[damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog]

hello again ~~ 👋🏼

if ur requests are open, can i request some fluff of Ominis bonding with his new born son (who is also blind in ur headcanons) but like... just to two of them. maybe Isabel is sleeping or away for some errands. just Ominis trying to bottle feed his baby or change their diaper or bathing them in a small baby tub. 😭 i've been watching a lot of youtube shorts about daddies having good quality time with their infant babies and i immediately rushed to your page cause i can't take Ominis being a dutiful father to his child.

also, i don't like it when people try to ship Ominis with Anne 😩 sorry but i just don't see it

AAAAAA 💚💚💚

I had just woken up when I saw tamayula’s new art, so yeah I’ve been thinking about stuff like this all day lol

I don’t ship Ominis/Anne either, but it doesn’t bother me. As long as that ship makes someone happy, I am happy. I’ve been on the receiving end of judgment for ships I like in the past and it’s not fun. Fandom should be about having fun. :)

Just Before the Dawn

AO3 Link

Omnis bonds with his firstborn child

Ominis x MC (married and new parents)

SFW

Discussion about Ominis' childhood with the Gaunts. A bit sad, but the ending is happy

Word count: 1,162

A/N: WOW, ok this got a little heavier than I anticipated lol oops. Nothing serious happens, Ominis just has first-time-parent jitters in his own, Ominis-y way and works through some of that. :)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The peaceful ticking of a clock was the only sound in the room when Ominis awoke.

It was still dark, judging by his wife’s unintelligible mumbling in her sleep and the absence of warm morning sunlight on Ominis’ skin. Sitting up in bed, he picked up his wand from his nightstand and pointed it in the direction of the ticking. 5:03 a.m., the wand’s little voice announced in his mind. Ominis groaned. MC would be asleep for another few hours, and Ominis considered curling up around her to drift off again, but he felt too restless.

Ominis was unsure why he had awoken. It had been a long while since his last nightmare. After so many years waking up next to MC and hearing increasingly less from the Gaunts, the violent and frightening birth family he had long abandoned, he slept quite peacefully most nights. Perhaps it was instinctual drive that motivated him to push the covers aside, find his slippers on the floor and kiss MC’s head as he stood to cross the room.

There, on the opposite side of the room in the cradle with whimsical little carvings of mooncalves and hippogriffs lovingly etched into the wood by his family in-law, lay their baby son nestled in tiny blankets. Ominis could hear soft rustling as his son stirred and began to fuss. He probed with his hands until they found the impossibly tiny head and body, scooping up his son with gentle hushes.

Had Ominis really been this small once too? He could scarcely imagine treating his own child the way his family had treated him as a boy. He would do anything for the baby he now rocked in his arms, whispering soothingly.

The baby began to cry, and Ominis felt some hesitation. He was quite used to taking care of the baby while MC was awake to help him, but he had not yet attempted it alone. He did not want to wake MC after hearing her tell him how exhausted she was and how desperately she needed sleep as she had drifted off the night before.

More than MC's exhaustion, however, Ominis felt guilt claw at his chest as he considered passing the baby off to MC. How many times had his own parents ignored his desperate cries? How often had they simply handed him off to someone else to deal with? He physically recoiled at how easily he could fall into the same habits his parents had. With shaking arms he held his son closer and pressed his cheek to the little head resting on his shoulder, as if to shield his tiny son from the horrific thoughts.

"I'm here," he whispered. "And I won't let you go."

Ominis knew not if he was soothing his son, or himself.

The kitchen was even quieter than their bedroom, with only an occasional drop from the sink faucet to fill the silence. During the day, a pair of staff would work and happily chat away—but for a few more hours, the room would stand still.

Ominis had pulled a chair up to the counter and attempted to give his son a warmed bottle. The baby fussed, unable to find the bottle any better than Ominis could guide it, and both father and son were growing frustrated.

"I'm sorry," Ominis murmured, frowning at himself. He felt distressed little hands as they knocked against his own, grabbing at nothing while the fussing turned to wails that squeezed his throat painfully. Tears sprung to his eyes.

"I'm so sorry... This is my fault."

Ominis once again held his son closer, cradling him protectively against his chest with one arm as he continued to try to unite little hands with the bottle. He was to blame for more than just the bottle, he mused somewhere in the back of his exhausted mind.

When the healers had broken the news to Ominis and MC, MC was almost completely unbothered. She had never been the kind of woman to respond with fear, of course; she merely held their son closer and, with a smile on her lips, gently murmured that their son had his father's eyes.

Ominis, on the other hand, could only stand in shock as the healer's words echoed in a suddenly empty world around him. The Gaunts’ dark magic that had irreparably injured him before he was born was still coursing through his veins—and it was now his son's grim birthright.

The weeks after MC had given birth had been confusing for Ominis. He loved his son unconditionally. He would do anything for those giggles, for the chubby fingers that grasped at his own as the little family would rest together on the bed, talking and laughing without a care in the world. But Ominis also mourned. He mourned for the sight his son would never have—for the fact that it was the final curse the Gaunt family would place upon Ominis. They had touched his baby despite his every precaution, and it was a knife through Ominis' heart he could never remove.

Ominis was pulled back to the surface by contented noises as his son had finally grasped the bottle and was drinking hungrily. A shaky sigh left Ominis' lips, and shoulders he had not even realized were tensed began to loosen.

Ominis allowed a faint smile come over him. His son was at peace despite his father's anxiety. Ominis allowed the little glimmer of hope to peek though in his mind.

"Well, aren't you the hungry little one," Ominis mumbled, amused. "It seems you aren't particularly cross with me anymore, either."

Ominis' baby made no acknowledgement of him and continued to drink. Ominis chuckled and began to hum a soothing tune.

By the time the little boy had finished his breakfast, Ominis could faintly hear the first songs of birds from the kitchen windows.

"Do you hear that?" Ominis gently asked as he propped the very satisfied infant up on his shoulder and patted his back. "That's a robin. When you're older, I'll teach you all the birdsongs I know so you may appreciate them just as much as your mother when she sees them flitting across the garden… In fact, I'll get to teach you many different things. I'll give you your first wand, teach you to read as I do, and I'll be there to catch you when you fall as you navigate with your new wand. But for now, we ought to rest, don't you think?"

The baby cooed in reply, merely happy to be in his father's arms.

When MC awoke, sunlight was streaming in through the windows of the bedroom. It was quiet, save for the ticking of the clock—and the slow, deep breaths of both her husband and baby. She turned to kiss Ominis good morning and saw him sound asleep on his back with their baby perched carefully atop his chest, wrapped in his father's protective arms and some blankets pulled from the cradle.

There was a little smile on each of their faces, and MC wondered what the two had gotten up to to still be asleep at this hour. There would be time enough to ask later. For the moment, MC kissed them both.

"You have such a good father," MC whispered with a smile.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #requests #Isabel Greymoore

[pariahsparadise]

mirrors and shivers | j. m.

nav. | m. list

part one / part two / ?

word count: 1.3k 

pairings- jj maybank x fem!reader, slight rafe cameron x fem!reader (past)

author’s note- you guys wanted this so here lol

warnings- unedited, swearing, kissing

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"I don't know about this-"

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect!”

JJ tugs harshly at the collar of the fancy shirt he’s wearing, meeting your eyes in the mirror as you clap your hands delightedly. The two of you are out shopping for Midsummers, which you somehow talked him into attending. JJ silently wonders if it’s too late to back out now, but one look at your happy features as you look him up and down, your hand feeling at the hem of his shirt and picking imaginary flecks of dirt from his sleeve, has his mouth clamping up, cementing shut. 

He changes tactics instead, saying, “There’s no way I’m going to be able to afford this.”

You simply wave him off, “Don’t worry, I’ll sponsor you. We can even discuss a pay increase, or at least a bonus, as I’m sure attending a stuffy dance filled with snobs isn’t something you really want to do.”

JJ simply bites his lip and nods, ducking his head a little as his heart winces. Hearing you refer to your deal so casually, going as far as to even joke about it, hurts him more than it probably should, but what can he do about it?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

So he stays quiet as you buy the suit for him, opting to thank you instead with a quick kiss on your forehead and a flash of a smile- one you can’t help but notice doesn’t reach his eyes.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It’s the night of Midsummers, and you’re nowhere in sight. JJ itches to fix that.

He’s at your house to pick you up, dressed up in a way that would invite ragging from Pogues back home. JJ makes awkward, stilted conversation with your parents, who seem genuinely fond of him, but he can’t interact with them without feeling insanely guilty. They’ve taken to him quite nicely, and he can’t help but feel like a fraud, sitting here in your living room with his stupid jacket and stupid suit and stupid, stupid tie. Vaguely, he wonders if it would be possible to strangle himself with it. Anything to get him to stop feeling like he’s in someone else’s skin.

He excuses himself with the motive of finding you and rushing you along, when in reality, he thinks over how to break it to you that he can’t go through with this, he can’t go to this dance with you, he just can’t-

Your bedroom door flies open as JJ’s foot meets with it, but he stops in his tracks, greeted with the sight of your bare back.

“Sorry, sorry,” you whirl around, but JJ’s eyes fly to the mirror directly behind you, unable to tear his eyes away from the reveal of your skin. Your dress clearly needs zipping up, but he can’t help but think it looks better like this.

“Can you- can you help?” You ask meekly, turning around so JJ’s revealed to the glorious expanse of your skin again and he swallows, hard.

“Sure,” he says a little shakily, stepping up behind you, all thoughts of ditching you and this dance already fading away, faster with every millimetre your dress shifts. A shiver goes through your entire body when the pads of his fingertips slightly brush against the small of your back, and it takes all of JJ’s restraint to stop himself from tearing off your expensive dress right then and there.

Slowly, with care he didn’t know he possessed, he works the zipper of your dress up the back, even though his body screams louder protests with every millimetre of your skin he covers up. When he’s done, his eyes flick up to the mirror to meet yours, already studying him. 

You immediately avert your eyes, turning around yet again, and JJ takes the opportunity to scan your outfit, hands tightening into fists as he realises how well the dress fits you, accentuating your features in the best possible way.

“Well?” you ask, a slight tremor in your voice, and JJ just smiles at you, bending to sneak a small kiss on your bare shoulder, his eyes shut so he misses how you tense up. 

“You look beautiful,” he says, and the raw earnestness in his voice has you relaxing again. He opens his eyes to find you gazing at him intently, his mouth drying as the intimacy of the situation you’re in hits him. He clears his throat, taking a step back and tries to lighten the atmosphere, “Now, hurry the fuck up, otherwise I’ll have to take your mom to this stupid dance.”

You fake offence, but break character to laugh, and he grins as he leads you out of the room.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

JJ has kissed you before.

Smashing his lips on yours just as the music reaches its peak at parties, the bass rumbling through the floor as he invades you, exaggerated make-outs in the corner of rooms, positioned exactly so Rafe, your ex-bitch can see you and fume into his drink. It’s always electric, but there’s still something fake about the way your head tilts, your hands exploring his body. It’s like you’re putting on a show, an act, which you technically are. JJ can’t complain, though, it still gets the job done.

He can’t help but wonder, however, what it would be like to really kiss you. Just the two of you, no ruses or ex-boyfriends involved. 

He finds out soon enough.

It happens when he’s dropping you off at your house, the two of you completely exhausted after an entire night of acting. You rub at your eyes tiredly, smudging your eyeshadow slightly, which JJ finds endearing. 

“Had fun?” he asks, one hand loosely linked with yours, the other tucked into his pocket. He hopes you did, JJ knows he wasn’t that convincing in selling your facade today, barely spending more than a few minutes on the dance floor before tugging you away to the concessions stand, wanting nothing more than to just talk to you. The two of you ended up having a blast, quietly poking fun of all the other attendees from your little corner, earning dirty glances and disapproving glares, but JJ didn’t care about them when your eyes were shining like that.

“Yeah,” you say simply, and it’s enough. The two of you are standing on your porch now, but you stall for time, softly wrapping up unfinished conversations from earlier.

“Well,” you say after a few minutes, “I should probably head in, then.” You nod towards the door, and maybe it’s just JJ’s head playing tricks on him, but it seems like you’re asking for a reason to stay. 

So, he gives you one.

“Probably,” he echoes his agreement, but his hand tightens its hold on yours, pulling you to him in one smooth motion. He lowers his head to meet your eyes, and when he sees the want in them mirroring the ones in his own dilated pupils, he connects your lips.

You let out a soft gasp, but reciprocate almost immediately, hand leaving his to cradle his jaw ever so gently. He deepens the kiss, his arm twining around your waist to pull you impossibly closer, and it’s everything he could have ever imagined. Because he’s kissing you, and it’s real.

At least, until he hears your mom shout through the door, “Okay, buddy, mind letting my daughter breathe now?”

The two of you pull apart quickly, and you let out an awkward chuckle. “Good one,” you tell him in a whisper, and his jaw ticks with understanding and hurt- you think he kissed you just to sell the act to your parents.

There’s not much he can do except nod and bid you goodnight, walking away from your house with his hands tucked into his pockets and his lips tingling. So, that’s what he does.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

tagging: @fairyprincess223 @emberdaybreak @totallynotkaibiased @criesinlies

a/n part two: i actually do not have a taglist, but i tagged the people who asked to be tagged anyways. probably won't do it again lol sorry. anyways, i hope you guys liked this part, i might do a part 3?

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fluff #jj obx #jj obx imagine #jj maybank x y/n #obx #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank angst

[lokifromvalhalla]

A poisoned mind

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗ Ivar The Boneless x Reader Genre: Comfort / Fluff Words: ± 2 000

(Y/n) can't help but to wonder whether Ivar really trusts them, what they don't know it's that everything is just a matter of insecurity.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

“Ow!” A cry brings me back to consciousness at the same moment and I gasp, looking around to spot the possible invader, but before my hand finds the handle of the ax under the furs, I notice nothing goes on aside from Ivar with his finger pinched around the bridge of his nose whilst glaring at me. “What the fuck was that for?”

“What do you mean?” I let out a breath, pushing myself closer to him, and slowly pull his hand down to reveal his scowl—well, it’s barely able to see anything, though it is not as dark as in the beginning of the night nor as light as the last moment before the sunlight, still enough to make out some of his features, and I’m sure his scowl is there.

“You fucking punched me!” He clicks his tongue, and I can’t help but to chuckle at the thought, how his face must’ve looked with it as he jumped awake.

“Sorry, it wasn’t meant to be you.” Not like the dream I was having is anything but faint memories in my mind now, nonetheless I know for certain that Ivar wasn’t my aim. He grumbles something under his breath that I don’t catch on, and he doesn’t demand an answer, falling silent as he presses himself closer and makes himself comfortable pressing his face to my neck with an arm wrapped around me. His warmth is very much welcomed; my eyelids feel a little heavier, even, as I wrap my arms around him in return.

“(Y/n).” Ivar’s voice pulls me away from my almost asleep state, and I hum in response, blinking a couple of times not to fall asleep again. “You’re going to be by my side when I become King. I know Harald wants to take you with him to command his army when it is over, but it’s not going to happen.” He speaks through his teeth like whenever someone irritates him, even if there’s no one else but us here, even if he’s sleepy, to the point his words almost run one into the other.

A sharp exhale through my nose is the most I can do to demonstrate the humor the subject brings me, letting a small smile tug on my lips. “You know I’m not going anywhere.”

“The dumbass seems not to see you’re mine,” he sighs, shifting lightly as he buries his face in my neck for a moment then nuzzles a spot under my jaw. “But make sure to come back if he kidnaps you or something, man is mad.”

As much as I want to chuckle and roll my eyes, all I can bring myself into doing is to smile more. “Don’t worry, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

Ivar hums in approval. “I better.” He presses a few kisses to my neck, growing longer and gaining more pressure according to how they go lower, reaching my collarbones.

Why did Ivar make sure to ask me about it, though? Who does he not trust, is it me or himself? It is not possible that he still has the same mindset after all of these years, the false concept I’m here for more than just him or maybe of needing to deserve me, in some way I could never comprehend.

“Do you still doubt it, Ivar?” My voice cuts through the thin silence of the room in a simple whisper.

It takes him longer to answer, with a quiet hum coming from him first. “Do I doubt what?”

“That I don’t want to leave.”

“Are you getting things in your head again, (y/n)?” He replies a little too fast, a little too sharply. “You know that I’m just asking! I know your head is not weak enough to let you fall for some fool’s words, but you surely can poison your own mind, can’t you?” It’s almost funny, even.

“Right,” I sigh.

⟐

“What’s it that clouds your mind?” The voice cuts through my thoughts and I look up from my sword to see Heahmund looking at my direction from his place on the ground—I throw a glance over my shoulders, then turn back seeing I’m the only one here.

“Why do you think there is something?” I scoff, shaking my head as I continue to run the rock against the blade. “And why would you care, priest?”

Heahmund scoffs, tilting his head as he adjusts his position to rest his elbow on the knee he brings closer to himself, leaning in a little closer to me, but not enough, not like he can get here with his wrist chained to the wall. “Who said I care? It’s mere curiosity for the reason that has such an attentive warrior so... lost.” He raises his eyebrows, eyeing me up and down. For the gods, fate works in such ways, we have to go through such things.

A sigh escapes my lips and I hum, cogitating to answer, but I shake my head with a roll of eyes. “Why don’t you go pray or something? Talk to your god?” I toss the rock on the ground again, by the foot of my bench.

“Praying too much drives one into madness,” he breathes, “it’s wise to know when to observe your surroundings and let God speak to you in other ways.”

“Wise, indeed.” I snort a chuckle, looking away from the priest to our surroundings, seeing people coming and going with the preparations for the battles, and it’s easy to spot Hvitserk and Ivar talking near the boats in the distance, with Harald mostly nodding whilst Astrid stands behind him, hands clasped in front of her and looking around with... distress? I still wonder what made her leave Kattegat, I didn’t think she ever would, with the passion she defended it with. Still, there she is. Something Hvitserk says catches her attention, though, and she starts to say something along with Harald and Hvitserk just to be interrupted by Ivar, who glares at them and leans against his crutch to use his hands to explain whatever they’re arguing about.

“Not by his side today, hm?” Heahmund says again, and I wish the ground would open and swallow me whole. I save myself from using my voice with him and simply raise an eyebrow. “What’s it that happened between you?”

A hum comes from me as I let my sword’s tip against the ground, resting my hands against the handle for a momentary support, leaning my head against them and finally letting my eyes close, something I’ve been trying to fight against for the past minutes. I wish I could just lie down and rest for days, sometimes, but then, again, I wouldn’t be able to, not with how I ache for fighting, not without going through what I’m fated to.

I stand up with a groan, my legs going numb for a moment along with my vision darkening, which I hope he doesn’t notice. “You better be useful for something if your god let you live for so long.” I nod before walking away, seeking some entertainment at least until Ivar decides to call for me, telling me to stay by his side if I’m not doing anything, as I’m supposed to. Whatever Heahmund says, it’s left for the gods to hear since I’m already making my way down the harbor, the way opposite to where Ivar and the others are. Just like they say; a warrior’s own enemy is their own mind.

The sun takes its place down the horizon not long later, and with it comes another one of Harald’s supper that quickly takes another way as soon as the barrels of ale are introduced along with music, but I doubt it’s not something everyone is used to.

“Oh, you disappeared for most of the day!” Hvitserk catches my attention, standing there with a small smile on his face and also a horn of ale in hand, but a little past sobriety. “Where were you?”

“I was just around.” I shrug a little, and I helplessly wonder if the priest will even open his damn mouth to cause unnecessary fuss over my exhausted mood of today.

“Yeah, right,” he sighs with a nod, shifting his weight from leg to leg as he looks around. “We were seeing what we can fix regarding where to attack from.”

“Where we—”

“Oh, there you are!” Ivar sighs as he approaches, with an expression that resumes something between boredom, annoyance, and relief. “Don’t mind me, don’t mind me, just continue your conversation.” He wraps an arm around me, supporting himself on me in a way I need to lean back a little against the table behind me, but I still wrap an arm around him, letting him rest there with his head against my shoulder; his legs are probably hurting or something.

I sigh with a roll of my eyes, but Hvitserk doesn’t even react. “Honestly, I’d help more with it if I had any other knowledge about Kattegat that any of you don’t, but...”

“Just being there can be helpful.” He furrows his eyebrows and sniffs, bringing the horn to his lips for another sip of ale. “Maybe you can come up with something, see it from a perspective we can’t, hm?”

“Tomorrow, maybe.” I sip on my ale, and set the almost empty cup down on the table, beside me. “It was almost like I didn’t sleep last night, I don’t think my presence would really have added up to something, today.” I offer him a half smile. Meanwhile, my fingers trace the details on the back of Ivar’s clothes, trailing up and down in a patterned motion, whilst my free hand holds onto the edge of the table. It doesn’t escape my attention, though, how Ivar’s lips trail against my neck, going up and down the skin a few times before settling down and giving it a kiss.

Hvitserk raises an eyebrow at me, but hums with a nod. “Make sure to take care of yourself. We can’t have you falling sick.”

“And you won’t,” I reassure with a nod. At the same time something catches my attention from the corner of my eye, Hvitserk’s focus seems to be snatched by something near where the music comes from, and I believe he got entertainment for the night, given the small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Well, I...” Hvitserk mumbles, “I’ll talk with you tomorrow! Take care!” He doesn’t even throw a last glance at me, already ankling away to the direction he had been staring at so much, and I doubt Ivar notices his absence.

I carefully look over my shoulder again, but the person who once stood off to that direction isn’t there anymore, and Ivar’s lips tickle against my skin in what I presume to be some sort of whispering. “Ivar.” I tap his back lightly, and he shifts, startled, compelling me to chuckle lightly as he pulls away enough to look at me, twisting his mouth. “Too tired?” I raise an eyebrow, unable to stop smiling.

“Not at all! Barely did anything today that would take that much energy,” Ivar sighs, adjusting his hand around my hip, keeping the closeness. His eyes momentarily avert to somewhere behind me, observing the setting before they meet mine again and widen a little. “What is it?” He glares, though all I can do is to snort, looking away. “What’s so damn funny?” He hits my shoulder lightly.

“You’re jealous,” I state, though I actually had meant to ask it. “That’s what’s funny.”

The confusion that took over Ivar’s features slowly gives place to annoyance and unamusement, followed by quiet grumbling as his gaze drifts away from mine yet again. “And what about it?”

“Nothing.” I shrug, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer, trying not to demonstrate how it makes something flutter in my chest. “Nothing. I’m just mentioning it.” I observe him from close as I press my forehead to his, and he hums, still sounding a little grumpy.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, letting his lips meet mine for a brief second. “Some people need to know what’s off limits,” he whispers then leans in again, though for a deeper kiss this time.

#fan fic #fan fiction #vikings #vikings show #vikings fanfic #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless x you #ivar x reader #x reader #x female reader #x male reader #x gender neutral reader #x nonbinary reader #ragnar lothbrok #ubbe lothbrok #bjorn lothbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #sigurd lothbrok

[sincerelythedarkside]

Who We Are || Part IV

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Dark!Reader

Summary: You know what you want out of life. You want to be loved—to be safe. You want to be taken care of and to take care of someone who will appreciate it. But you’ve been shackled, trapped in a never-ending nightmare. And your only saving grace will be enticing the dark side of America’s golden hero to want you—a game of who’s manipulating who.

SERIES WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI. Dubcon sex, noncon/rape, somnophilia, manipulative behaviour, possessive behaviour, dark themes. Do NOT read if these are triggering for you.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: kidadultnapping.

[Set after Civil War & the Accords were abolished]

Note: I'm h word for these two. Things are ✨happening✨

PART I || PART II || PART III

Count: ~3.2k

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

The night was breezy, chillier since you were zipping through the streets on the back of Steve's motorcycle. Before leaving, Steve took off his leather jacket to let you wear it.

Even without his jacket, he was warm, and you wonder if it was because of the serum.

So many thoughts were running through your head, but mostly what should you do now.

Steve would take you to the Avengers Compound, and then what? He would help clean your cuts. You needed to use the time wisely.

You wondered if you should stay the night. It was quite late after all. But you supposed it depended on many factors and all of them revolving around Steve.

What if you bumped into another Avenger?

Should you ask him why he was at your work at this hour?

You had so many questions for yourself and no answers. It wasn't long until Steve pulled into a long driveway and parked his bike. He gets off first before he helps you, taking off the helmet gently.

Patting down your hair, he looked into the Compound.

"I don't think there's too many people up right now," Steve said as he helped you off the bike.

When you walked into the facility, you noticed someone sitting at the front desk right away.

"Cap'n," the person greeted. "Surprised to see you here."

"Hey, Happy," Steve greeted. "Just here to help a friend 'cause she's all banged up. We probably won't be too long. Anyone still up?"

"Tony's always up. Bucky's up, too, I think," Happy shrugged. "Want me to buzz them?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah, I'm sure we'll bump into them," he smiled charmingly, and Happy waved the two of you off.

Despite Steve's words, he walked you briskly into the elevators.

"Take me to my room please, FRIDAY," Steve requested, and you tried not to jump when something responded.

Steve grabbed your hand, and you turned your head to look at him. He seemed to be taking in your appearance, like the way you looked in his leather jacket.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"I don't know," you answered honestly. "Nervous, I guess. In case we bump into someone."

"You don't want to meet the rest of the team?" He asks with a head tilt and a slight frown.

"Not like this," you shook your head.

"They wouldn't judge, you know," Steve gives you a light smile. "Bucky is my best friend."

You nod and squeeze his hand. "I'm more nervous they won't like me," you half-lie.

Them not liking you would make it that much harder for you.

"How could they not?" Steve shook his head. "You're the sweetest person ever."

You demurely turn your head away, cheeks blushing for Steve to see. The elevator stopped, and Steve pulled your hand to lead you out of it, walking down the dark hallway. It wasn't long before he stopped, reaching his room. His door is locked by a padlock that he enters a code into to open.

You're pretty relieved that you hadn't bumped into anyone tonight as you walked in. The room is cool, seemingly having the AC on at all times. You look around, noting the king-sized bed with simple blue and white bed sheets. The walls are notably decorated with meaningless art, most likely provided by Stark.

Walking around by yourself, you try to see if there's anything else. A few forgotten sketches are on his desk, but you're sure any personal things have been moved to his new apartment with Sharon.

Either way, this room still felt like Steve.

Simple and clean.

"I'm pretty sure I have a first aid kit somewhere in here," Steve grips his chin in thought. "Do you want to take a quick shower?"

You turn to him and nod with a tired smile.

"I'll get you some clothes you can borrow. Hold on," Steve tells you as he opens his closet, pleased with himself that he had left some things behind.

"Have you eaten anything?" Steve asked, and you shook your head.

"I'm not really hungry..." You purse your lips.

"I'll get you some water then," Steve sympathetically offers.

While he leaves, you walk into the washroom and shut the door. Taking off all your clothes, you hop into the shower, turning the water on to a decent temperature where it wouldn't hurt your cuts.

It's a quick shower with just rinsing since you can't stay in there too long with your cuts and can't get any soap into. You take the most time trying to detangle your wet hair because Steve's the kind of man who uses two-in-one shampoo, and you're not that desperate to use it.

When you get out of the shower, you wipe down the light fog from the mirror and stare at yourself. You're wet, and when you gnaw enough on your bottom lip to make it swell, you look innocent and tempting.

There had been a reason you chose tonight.

Henry was out of town on some business trip and wouldn't be back until late tomorrow. Steve didn't seem to know since when you made the comment of not bringing him over because your stepdad didn't like unannounced guests over, he didn't bat an eye.

You towel dry your hair the best you can before you brush it out, leaving it to air dry. Putting on the soft, silk dress shirt Steve gave you on backwards to leave your back exposed, you moved your hair to your front to avoid touching the cuts. It stung a lot more now that it was clean and out in the open for the air to brush against it.

You look at yourself once more in the mirror before you turn and open the door.

Steve was sitting on his bed, a glass of water on his night table and his first aid kit splayed out on his bedsheets. He turned to you, breath hitching when he saw you in his shirt, but realizing you didn't bother to put the shorts on since the shirt was big enough to hang low to your mid-thighs.

"Shower, okay?" Steve asked, his voice slightly husky.

You pull the shirt up slightly, but with the way you're wearing it, it droops down, exposing your bare shoulders.

Nodding, you tentatively take a step towards Steve and sit next to him on the edge of his bed before turning your naked back to him.

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

Steve licks his lips.

You're so trusting of him, sitting there nearly naked. His shirt is the only thing that's covering your modesty at the front. Your underwear nearly makes Steve feral.

It's lacy and white, and he can see part of your asscheeks when you sit.

But all of it falls second when he sees the tiny cuts and scrapes on your back. He's glad they're not serious, and all of them were small.

"Does it hurt?" Steve asks as he gently touches it.

He feels you flinch.

"Sorry," Steve mumbles as he pulls his fingers back and starts ruffling through the contents he spilt out over his bed.

"S'okay," you mumble back.

Steve starts to apply a healing cream, his jaw clenching when you let out a soft whimper.

This was a bad idea, Steve thought. There was no Sharon to keep him good, no one to interrupt him. He was starting to think about what it would feel like to start kissing your neck, place his large hands on your sides, caressing the naked skin there before moving to your front and up.

What would it feel like to cup your breast and press you against him? You'd probably make those same soft whimpers you were making right now, wouldn't you?

But he remained still, taking care of you diligently as he bandaged you up.

"There," Steve says as he puts everything away and sets his first aid kit on the ground. He turns back to see you sitting in the same spot before you rearrange his shirt to wear it properly and button yourself up.

You turn around, and Steve gets a good view of the dip of your chest since you didn't button it all the way up. Your hair is still damp, and you look so soft.

"Thank you, Steve," you lick your lips as the tip of your tongue pulls your bottom lip into your mouth.

They hadn't bothered to turn on the light, letting the moon illuminate the room as you lean forward.

Steve thinks you're about to kiss him for a split second before your forehead drops against his broad shoulder. He blinks before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

"Are you still scared?" Steve asks as he strokes your arm gently.

"...No," you mumble as you turn your head and your forehead pressed against his neck.

You're so...warm. And pliant in his arms. You were in the space between his legs, and Steve wanted to keep you.

"I'd never let anyone hurt you, you know that, right, sweetheart?" Steve lifted his hand and stroked your head, feeling your content sigh.

"I know," you mumble. "But it's not like you can watch me all the time. I was really lucky you were there last night."

Then, you pull back and look up at him. "What were you doing there anyway? It was pretty late."

Steve momentarily is alarmed at the question, but the lie comes out easily. "I sometimes take late-night drives on my motorcycle if I can't sleep. I thought since I was out, I'd come to pick you up after your shift and surprise you. Maybe make up for calling your cocktails terrible," he teases.

He watches you tilt your head, dread filling him you'd found him out—that he was watching you when he could, that he was obsessed with you. You'd pull back and reject him.

But you merely tilted your head with a lopsided smile, lifting your hand to brush at his brow again.

"You're so silly," you quietly say. "Thanks for coming."

And something just breaks inside of Steve, and he's surging forward to capture your lips, swallowing your gasp.

You taste good, just like he always imagined. Steve's pushing forward until you fall on your back against the bed, and he can cover you with his own large body. Soft and warm. Delicate and perfect.

You feel just right underneath him, the way he wriggles and settles flawlessly between your legs. He's hard when he hears you moan between his kisses, gripping at his shoulders.

It was making sense now. It all made sense.

You were made for him. You're his doll, his perfect girl.

And he was made for you, has been waiting for you. Peggy, Sharon—they were just passing interests. They could never compare to what you were—could be to him.

Steve grinds his erection against the gusset of your panties—against you.

"Ohh," you groan low, trembling against him.

Steve grinds his hips into you over and over, starting to feel you soak your panties.

Gentle, Steve tells himself. He needs to be gentle because you've been hurt, and he needs to make you feel good. Steve needs to make you understand that he can make you feel good.

Steve wants you to belong to him.

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

For a moment, you're swept up in all that is Steve Rogers.

You knew the kiss was coming. How could it not? His hand was slightly trembling when he touched you. You were looking up at him through your lashes and in his arms.

But still, you had been unprepared to taste the mintiness of Steve. To smell in detail of the fresh grass and laundry that he smelled like.

He was warm and heavy on top of you, and when he ground onto you—horror swept through as you felt something you haven't felt in a long time.

True and pure arousal.

You had actually wanted him.

But you hadn't—it had been so long since—you couldn't.

"Stop," you break the kiss and pull back, pushing against Steve's chest.

It takes a few more kisses until Steve lets you push him away.

"What?" Steve asks as he blinks back to reality. "What's wrong?"

You push him off of you until you can sit up, breathless and flushed.

"We can't," you shake your head, pulling up his shirt that was slipping from your shoulder.

"Why?" Steve frowned, grabbing your hand. "You...you liked it, didn't you?"

"That's not the point, Steve," you pull your hand back. "I—It's wrong. You're dating Sharon and I..." You trail.

"I can leave Sharon," Steve promises you. "Sweetheart, I like you so much. I've never felt this way about anyone."

You shake your head.

"No, Steve, you can't just leave her," you sighed. "It'll never work out between us anyway."

You start to get up, trying to find your pants, when Steve gets up and grabs your hand again.

"How can you say that?" Steve frowns. "We haven't even tried."

"I don't have to try," you throw back at Steve, turning to him with wet eyes.

Steve is shocked to see the tears well up in your eyes but never fall.

"Sweetheart," Steve said softly, pulling you closer, cupping your face and then the tears started to fall. "Tell me what's wrong. I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong."

You try to turn away, but his hands hold your face, wiping the tears away.

"You can't fix it, Steve."

Steve's heart feels like it's breaking.

"I'm Captain America," he tells you. He used to always hate it, using his persona like that. But being Captain America fixed so many of his problems. "There's nothing Captain America can't fix."

You lift your hands to grasp his and pull them off of you.

"Captain America can't fix this problem, Steve," you vaguely say before you turn back to him. "Just take me home."

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

Steve turns off his motorbike, and you get off without his help.

"Goodnight, Steve," you tell him softly as you start to walk off, but Steve grabs your hand again before you can walk away from him.

"This won't change us, will it?" Steve asked with a frown, hope in his chest.

You shake your head, squeezing his hand. "Of course not, Steve. You're my friend and you're important to me. Nothing can change that..."

"But...?" Steve senses the word at the end of what you said.

"But we won't work," you tell him with a sad smile. "Sharon is a really lucky girl."

With one last squeeze, you let go of his hand and make your way through the gates and into your house, greeting the dogs along the way.

Steve watches you leave, a hard tick in his jaw.

No, no, no. This isn't how it was supposed to be.

You want to be with him—Steve could tell. You liked him. You liked the kissing and the grinding and being in his clothes.

So how could you be saying that it wouldn't work? That Captain America couldn't solve your problems?

The only thing that could make sense was that you were hiding something. Something that was keeping you from him.

It wasn't about lack of chemistry.

It wasn't about Sharon.

It was something else.

And Steve was determined to find out whatever it was.

And get rid of it.

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

Friday comes easily.

You're sitting at some high-end restaurant for lunch.

It's a date.

With some guy Steve's never seen before.

Oh, sweetheart, Steve thinks as he stares at you six tables away. 'Was this what you meant when you said it would never work? Because of this nobody?

You couldn't have liked him; there was no way. You were barely smiling as he spoke to you. You didn't react when he brushed his hand against yours on the table.

Steve adjusts his earpiece, the one that allowed him to listen clearly in on your conversation with a bug he planted at your table.

"How's the food?" Blake asks.

"It's good," you say quietly.

"Thank you so much for coming to meet me for lunch today. It's hard to meet up when our schedules are so different, huh?" Blake says, seemingly harmless, but Steve scoffs.

How backhanded.

"I suppose," was all you had to offer.

"Have you ever thought about quitting your nighttime job? It can't be all you've got planned, is it?" Blake asks, and Steve can hear your fork scrape across your plate harshly.

"I currently like what I do," you say calmly, and Steve can see you stare at Blake subtly challengingly. "Henry is supportive of it."

Steve frowns. Henry? Your stepdad?

"Right, right," Blake says placatingly. "It's not a problem. We can just have lunch dates. It doesn't really matter."

Sweetheart, Steve almost groans. This guy is a total chump. There's no way you could see anything in him. Why was this man keeping you away from him?

Steve doesn't like any of this. You look uncomfortable, just begging him to save you again. You give him smiles, but they're nothing like the ones you give Steve.

Wrong. It's all wrong, Steve thinks.

Steve wants you to be patient. He can fix this.

Picking up his phone. He dials before he presses it against his ear.

"Hey, Buck, listen. Could you do me a favour?"

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

Just as quick as Friday came, it was starting to go.

The night breeze is cool, and the streets are emptying out.

Steve's almost surprised and impressed with how late Blake works.

Must be a hardworking fellow.

But when Steve sees Blake walking out the front door with some secretary, he's no longer impressed.

Oh, you really had no idea how horrible this man was, didn't you? You were so lucky to have Steve. This man clearly could never make you happy.

Blake seems to be trying to convince the secretary to go home with him but the woman giggles as she shakes her head, insisting she needs to go home since she has an early day tomorrow and all.

With that, Blake pouts but lets her go with a chuckle. He bids her goodnight with a kiss on her cheek before hopping into his waiting cab.

"To Greepoint," Blake directs as he puts on his seatbelt.

"Yes, sir."

The drive is quiet, and Blake stays on his cellphone, texting multiple people and his Facebook feed.

It isn't until the driver takes a turn that Blake looks up.

"Hey, you turned the wrong way. Greenpoint is the other way," he says with an annoyed voice.

"Oh, I know," the driver says from the front.

"Then why are you going this way?" Blake rolls his eyes. "Having that slow of a night you need to run your meter? Let me tell you now, pal, you ain't getting any tip."

The driver with a cap turns around with a tiny gun, smiling before he presses the trigger.

Blake feels a needle prick his neck, and his hand goes to it immediately.

"What the hell—" Blake starts to say before his words slur and everything begins to mesh together. Darkness hits almost instantly.

Steve sighs as he watches Blake slump in his seat, his seatbelt preventing him from falling over.

"It was a slow night, you're right about that, Blake. But I think you'll still be giving me a tip—at least about what I want to know."

PART V

#dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #dark steve rogers fanfiction #dark steve rogers imagine #dark!reader #dark fic #s.myfics #series.whoweare

[glitterge1pen]

I Only See You In The Sun

Iwaizumi Hajime x reader, word count 2,838

In the afternoon the dust particles swirl in the library air, the dust from the books. Iwaizumi knows that his teacher making him cite a book on his essay is actually a practical idea, but he resents it still . He checks what section he should be looking at and makes his way to the far corner of the library. There are only a handful of students around, most studying, there is one group chatting lazily in hushed whispers. Iwaizumi sets his bag down on the nearest table, the one right in front of the window and starts searching the shelves for what he's looking for.

"Do you need some help?"

Iwaizumi turns to see you standing right by the table.

"I'm the library assistant this semester so I know where everything is, bet I can find whatever you're looking for faster than you"

Iwaizumi thanks you and accepts the help. You crouch down to inspect one of the lower shelves. Iwaizumi keeps talking, explaining the project more than he needs to. He gets down to the same height you are at. The two of you are huddled pretty close but you don't seem to mind, you're too busy trying to find him a good source for his essay. The sun is coming in through the window and he tells himself that's why he feels so warm.

"Here you go, this should work perfect but if you need anything else just ask"

"Thank you so much this really helps"

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

Iwaizumi comes back at the same time, two days later. He only has so much time before practice but he wants to see if can work up the courage to talk to you some more. Something about you had drawn Iwaizumi in completely. Being around you for that short time had imprinted itself into his thoughts. He found himself thinking about the library assistant far too much all throughout the day. Not that he hadn't had crushes before but already the feeling he had for you was so strong.

When he went into the library, it felt stronger. Like the library itself had ate something different. It had a different scent, not bad or good, just not what it usually was. It smelled like those first few days back at school, when no people had been in the library for a long time, so it was just a carcass.

Iwaizumi started looking for you. He went to the desk first but the only one there was the librarian. He went to where he saw you last. He could see you from a distance. Sitting at the same back table. Your head laying on your folded arms, it was like you were taking a nap in the sun. He watched, just for a second. You were radiant, literally radiant, the glow of the sun reflecting off of you in a hypnotizing way. Like one of those things you hung in the window to catch the sun and it would send rainbows all over the room. You were a sun catcher.

He pooled all the courage he had from his chest and willed himself to talk to you. He had to he decided. He was going to talk to you. When he approached the table you pulled yourself up. When you pushed the chair up to stand it bumped into the plant pot behind it, you held your hand on one of the leaves as if to steady it.

"You need some more help?"

"Not really"

Iwaizumi said. You looked at him puzzled, not sure what he was trying to say or do now.

"I wanted to return this"

He said holding up the book you had helped him find.

"Oh I can take it then, I can stamp it and everything when I leave"

Iwaizumi should have thought this out more. He searched his mind for anything to say to you.

"I didn't know you guys still stamped the books"

That warranted another puzzled look from you.

"Yeah we gotta stamp the dates in, it's probably one of my favorite things to do around here"

"Really? You like being a library assistant then?"

He asked.

"I do, it's nice in here, quiet, it's like an independent entity in here you know, separate from the rest of the school. Plus I have an excuse to leave class early"

Iwaizumi mentions that when he gets to leave class early for a volleyball game it's one of the best feelings. You ask him about volleyball, if he's into it or if he's just in it to get out of class. Then he starts telling you about this story about Oikawa and Hanamaki. You laugh at the end like he'd hoped you would.

"You should come to a game sometime"

"Yeah maybe I will"

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

It's after practice when Iwaizumi's head is the most clear. He can just sit and feel content, no worries or thoughts. But after having met you even in these moments of mental purity he used to have, there is now you. He has stopped by the library every day before practice for a whole week now.

"Oikawa"

His friend was the last person on the volleyball court, tossing up his few remaining serves of the day. Oikawa stops, catching the ball and spinning it between his hands.

"Is it-"

"It's not you, you’re playing fine"

Iwaizumi says, struggling to get the embarrassing words out of his throat. The ones he actually wants to say. Oikawa is waiting for him to say something, hand on hip, eyebrow raised in question.

"There's someone I like"

Oikawa tosses the ball aside with fever.

"Who! Who! Holy shit this is-"

Iwaizumi cut him off with a few threats to shut up. Oikawa had come to sit next to Iwaizumi on the bleachers in the gym, where Iwaizumi shoved his shoulder.

"You know the library assistant?"

"You would, wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Iwaizumi said, his voice booming harsh, Oikawa only waved his hand, like by doing so Iwaizumis loud angry sounds would fade into the air like febreze.

"Just seems like a situation you'd get yourself into. But I dont think Ive met them before. I don't remember seeing anyone in there that much. What do they look like? What class are they in?"

Iwaizumi found himself struggling to clearly see your face in his mind. This really bothered him because he had spent plenty of time at this point staring at you. That night when he was in bed he still couldn't see you in his head. It was like you were just a fuzzy memory. He wondered how he hadn't noticed the haze in all of his day dreams that hung around you. Like the particles dancing in the library sun.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

The next day when Iwaizumi comes to chat with you he tries to remember to focus on your face. But he gets so wrapped up in himself when it's just the two of you. And you are so fucking light. Everything about you. The way you talk, your laugh. It makes him feel like he isnt even there. Like there is a place that is just you two. It's always the afternoon too. When the sun is most glaring and bright. Your features a mix of shadow, sunrays, and that dark space that Iwaizumi only ever sees on old film photos. Especially because of where you sit in the back of the library. Where the lights don't reach, and the sun is all that's left.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

Oikawa is insisting that he meet you. Iwaizumi tries his best to bite his tongue when he gets into the library. But Oikawa has that shit eating grin on his face. All Iwaizumi can do is step onto his shoes and push into him as they walk. Oikawa knows the table you like to sit at because of how much Iwaizumi talks about you now.

"They're usually back here"

Iwaizumi says as he moves around some nearby rows of books, trying to see if you're around.

"Iwai, did you just make this person up to mess with me"

Oikawa is joking, Iwaizumi knows he's just joking, but suddenly it does feel like that a bit. Oikawa is on the other side of the shelf, he's gone from view now behind the tall shelf that hides the table from the rest of the library. Iwaizumi has this sinking sensation in his stomach, like something is wrong, like he really is alone. Like Oikawa is there, and the other students are too, and the librarian, but you arent and he's alone.

"Hey Iwaizumi!"

The terrible is gone. The terrible is gone he realizes. He turns around to see you standing very close behind him. He freezes up, shy knowing that Oikawa is eavesdropping on the two of you on the other side of the shelf.

"I didn't see you"

He says.

"Yeah I was off shelving. It's a pretty good work out, I think you'd like it"

"I actually got getting going, we gotta get to practice a bit early today-"

You interject, hopeful Iwaizumi notes.

"We?"

"Right, Oikiawa wanted to meet you"

"I wanted to meet him to, you talk about him a lot, and I want to meet your friends"

So Iwaizumi calls Oikawa over, even though he's positive that Oikawa had just heard everything you said. Even that thing about Iwaizumi talking about him a lot. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at Oikawa's need for an entrance like this. Iwaizumi turns over his shoulder to make sure that Oikawa is coming and when he turns back you're gone.

"Where'd they go?"

Oikawa asks, just as confused as Iwaizumi.

"I don't know? They were just right here?"

"I'm not an idiot. I heard them talking, I would have saw them if they went around to the other side of the shelf right?"

The boys once again search for you. It feels useless though, Iwaizumi wonders if Oikawa has the same sense as Iwaizumi. That this is like flipping through the pages of a book trying to find one word without actually reading. You're gone.

"Maybe they got embarrassed? They did say some pretty, revealing, I guess things about the way they feel about you"

"What do you mean?"

Iwaizumi says to Oikawa as they push open the library doors into the cool air.

"They way they said I want to meet your friends, it was very sweet don't you think?"

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

"You know I never see you around anywhere else? What class are you in?"

Iwaizumi and you are eating lunch together today. He had gotten some extra snacks for you guys to share from the vending machine. You are trying to open a bag of chips but it's not popping for you. You hand the bag over to Iwaizumi for him to try.

"3C"

You say nonchalantly. Iwaizumi assumed you mean 2C. Because 3C does not exist. When the school was still using the old building they had "3" classes, but now there were the "D" and "E" 1 and 2 classes instead. Iwaizumi makes a mental note to ask Matsukawa about you because he's in class 2C as well.

"These are delicious"

You say, putting another one of the chips into your mouth.

"You've never had that flavor before?"

"I've never even seen it before"

You say with a little laugh. Iwaizumi and you swap morning stories. He mentions how he took shit notes in class today, and you ask what chapters they went over. Your class, you said, was ahead so you let him scribble a few things down from your notebook. Then you show him a book you recently started reading. As you're talking to him Iwaizumi pushes open the window. A gust of air washes over the table.

Later in the day when Iwaizumi is telling Oikawa about how lunch went with you. He will say that it felt like you and him were floating in the air, contained by the wind, like you were in your own bubble. That when he opened the window it was like an endless wave and it washed over you. He says in a whisper, so only he himself can hear,

"It was like real water, they shone like how clean water does in the sun"

Oikawa doesn't know what to say. Letting Iwaizumi's profound words hang in between them as they walk home.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

Iwaizumi is leaving for a game. He's late to catch the bus with his team mates though. He hadn't been paying attention and let too much time slip by. He's jogging past the library when he steps on one of his shoe laces, it having gotten trapped between him and the concrete. It had made him lose his balance, he sighs in annoyance as he bends down to tie his shoes. The grass is sticky and wet from rain the night before, he really is lucky he didnt fall and fuck his shit up before a game.

He's starting to get uncomfortable in the heat of the sun when he sees you. You're standing in the library window watching him. When you see he's noticed you, you wave and smile. You mouth something to him, he gets closer to the window, trying to get what you're saying. He cups his hand around his ear. You say it again but he still can't understand. He's about to take another step when he's hit by a jolt of anxiety.

A big cloud had passed overhead, one that could have been drawn, it was so perfect. It had covered the sun though. You were no longer standing in the window. You had simply ceased. You hadn't walked away. You weren't there, at all. Iwaizumi didn't know what to do. He waved to the now empty window, telling himself it was just because the clouds shadow was messing with the reflection. But ran as fast as he could to the bus.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

Iwaizumi came into the cold air conditioned library and felt relief from the hot temperature outside. These days talking to you was exhilarating. It left him feeling hollow, weightless, and he told Oikawa you made him jump higher in practice but his friend only laughed.

"Hey wanna help out?"

Sometimes Iwaizumi would help you organize a cart of books before you had to shelve it, or put the "no longer property" of stamp on books that were falling apart. But today you had a big cardbox you were shuffling through.

"This stuff is gold come look"

It was old yearbooks.

"The school doesn't really have any good place to store these. The really old ones are up in that display case at the front of the school. But these ones aren't old enough to be artifacts yet."

Iwaizumi sat on one of the chairs, while you sat on the table. You took your time looking through each yearbook. Showing each other bad yearbook quotes, photos people should have re-taken. You handed Iwaizumi another four books from the box. The top two were duplicates so he put one of them into that pile and handed the other one back to you.

The next one he started to flip through. It was the 2000 year book. The cover had reflective silver lettering and the whole thing was celebrating the new decade. Lots of computer space alien gags and hair gel. Iwaizumi was about to show you a photo of the dance club and the tacky outfits they had on. But his thumb slipped and the next page flipped itself over.

You were busy laughing at something you were looking at. Iwaizumi tried to hone in on that sound. Maybe it would help push back the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was you. A two page spread after the club pages.

In big blue letters at the top of the page were the words ``IN MEMORIAM OF" and there were scanned photos of notes from you friends, teachers and classmates. Photos from a memorial the students had held. And your locker, open and stuffed with flowers and photos, candles spilled from the metal tomb out onto the hallways floor. There was your school photo from that year. So indistinguishable from the other dozens of school photos he had just looked at, but unmistakably you.

Slowly Iwaizumi closed the book. Zipped open his bag, and tucked it inside.

"You know I think if you went back in time a couple years you totally could have rocked the frosted tips, would you ever dye your hair red or something?"

Iwaizumi looked up to you, the teasing smile you were showing to him was so familiar now.

"Did you just say I would look good with frosted tips?"

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: bruuuhhhhh IM SUPPOSED TO BE ALSEEP RN

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EUE9rA86EXf8sPFGJ47yL?si=-hD2r_SATTGn5u1nTjIwhA

#iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #Iwaizumi Hajime #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq iwaizumi